ã€ŠDancing on the Blockã€‹


 Prologue

    Midnight crept ever closer. A palpable hush spread throughout the frozen palace, weighing heavily on the already-doleful prayer services. And thanks to the castellan¡¯s timely decision to skimp on candles, part of the corridor, the way to the half-empty imperial wing, was pitch dark.

    Somewhere in that direction, on the other side of the enormous carved doors and surrounded by useless healers and clergy, the leader of the empire fought for his life. The latest was that His Grace, Emperor Margius, wasn¡¯t going to pull through this time.

    Hinges creaked faintly, the noblemen gathered there rushed over to the door, and, in the rush of elbows and hissing, courtesy and titles gave way to a scene that smacked more of the port market. But they all froze in an instant when they saw who emerged.

    ¡°Lord Demos,¡± someone gasped. ¡°Could it be¡­¡±

    Rubbing his eyes, a short man with a face mangled by fire hobbled toward them. A chain decorated with the medallion of the imperial treasurer dangled from gaunt shoulders, clearly burdensome to its owner. His clothes were wrinkled, his dark hair greasy. But even still, he held a thick leather packet carried with him from the emperor¡¯s chambers closer than he might have held his own child.

    ¡°The emperor is dead,¡± Demos announced in a matter-of-fact voice.

    Someone mumbled a prayer; the women lamented. Not a single guard moved a muscle. The other noblemen kept their eyes fixed on the packet clutched in the treasurer¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Lord Demos, we would like to pay our respects,¡± begged a young and already half-bald man wearing a doublet embroidered with pearls. ¡°Give them the order to let us in!¡±

    The treasurer shook his head. Shadows laced their way through the deep creases on the disfigured side of his face.

    ¡°Save your emotions for the ceremony¡ªthere will be time for them then,¡± he replied. ¡°His Grace won¡¯t be telling you anything else, and we¡¯ll announce his last wishes later once the Small Council has time to go over them.¡±

    ¡°Did Margius say anything before he died? Anything at all?¡±

    ¡°Who is the heir?¡±

    ¡°Lord Demos, tell us!¡±

    ¡°I will, but later.¡± The treasurer tried to squeeze past the noblemen crowding up against him.

    Emboldened by fear or perhaps desperation, the balding young man gripped Demos¡¯ arm.

    ¡°No, tell us now! Do you have any idea what¡¯s at stake?¡±

    The treasurer¡¯s lips curled into a loathsome smile.

    ¡°Oh, I most certainly do. But rather than work yourself up over the will of the dead, spare a thought for the living, Earl. For example, think of all the disgraceful little secrets that could make their way to the surface if you¡ªall of you¡ªkeep pushing me. Uncle Margius turned a blind eye to much that I will not hesitate to reveal.¡±

    A heavy hand laid itself on the earl¡¯s shoulder. He jumped, whirling around in a fright. Gesturing toward him to stand aside, a tall Ennian bodyguard casually placed his other palm on the hilt of his scimitar. The earl instantly jerked his arm away.

    ¡°My thanks,¡± Demos said with a nod as though nothing had happened. ¡°Tell the chancellor I¡¯ll be waiting for him outside.¡±

    ***

    The torches flickered in the light breeze gusting in from the lake and breaking over the white stone walls of Missolen. The openwork gallery in the courtyard was empty, the guards having cleared it beforehand of curious eyes. Below, near the fountains, as was his right at the beginning of spring, a tomcat yowled insistently. And on the other side of the palace walls, on the other side of the Uli River, the lights of the capital glittered in blissful ignorance.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    To Demos, the night was especially stifling. He carefully emptied the packet onto the marble banister, stopping once finished to crack his knuckles. His head was pounding. After fishing a pipe out of his tobacco pouch, he packed it full, lit a match using the candle in a nearby glass bowl, and tentatively lifted it toward his pipe. The splashing water in the fountains was drowned out by approaching voices.

    ¡°I said we should get the Ennian healers!¡± Demos recognized his mother¡¯s southern accent. ¡°There¡¯s one staying in my manor, and the emperor would still be alive if they¡¯d listened to me.¡±

    ¡°Ask sorcerers for help?¡± came the hissed reply. ¡°Are you out of your mind, Lady Eltinia?¡±

    That voice was enough to tell Demos that his mother was getting into yet another fight with the chancellor. Irving of House Allantain, Duke of Osvendis. He was the second-ranking person in the empire and its new leader until the Small Council named an heir. But his new status and the gravitas that came with it didn¡¯t seem to have sunk in for Lady Eltinia.

    ¡°Lord Irving, I was born in Ennia,¡± she said, her voice softening. ¡°I know what our healers are capable of, and I¡¯m prepared to swear that they could have saved the emperor¡¯s life without resorting to sorcery. How many more tragedies do we have to endure before you take your blinders off?¡±

    Their footsteps got closer. The chancellor shot back in an ominous whisper.

    ¡°You really should think twice about saying things like that around clergymen. Out of respect for the situation and your house, I¡¯ll write your outrageous sentiment off to nerves. But remember that the Great Master would see it as heresy.¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Demos barked, slamming the packet down on the banister hard enough to make the quarreling pair jump. ¡°Margius is dead, and there¡¯s nothing we can do to change that. Much worse is that his damn last will could very well split the empire in two.¡±

    Lady Eltinia nervously smoothed down a crease in her dress as she lifted her eyes toward her son. Allantain¡¯s deeply creased face flushed deeply all the way to his closely cropped gray beard.

    ¡°We have to figure out what to do about that, and fast.¡± Demos patted the leather packet. ¡°If we announce the contents of these documents, total chaos will ensue. Our only chance of maintaining order is to align our efforts and keep the split from happening.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s in the last will?¡± Lady Eltinia took the pipe her son was holding and breathed in the fragrant smoke.

    ¡°The emperor left the throne to his wife. He went against the will of Tallonius the Great and bequeathed it to a woman.¡±

    Allantain looked at the treasurer in surprise.

    ¡°Are you joking?¡±

    The fire-scorched lord waved a thick piece of paper. The sealing wax was adorned with the imperial Tallonid coat of arms.

    ¡°See for yourself.¡±

    The chancellor turned the document over, squinted, and stepped closer to a lantern. Once he finished reading, he shook his head in disbelief and handed the last will to Lady Eltinia.

    ¡°Margius mentioned that once, but none of us thought¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. His Imperial Majesty¡¯s last will was to make Izara of Targos his successor, and we have the paper to prove it. Thank god, it¡¯s the only copy. As soon as the emperor breathed his last, I grabbed it before anyone else could see it.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way we can crown a foreigner,¡± the chancellor replied firmly. ¡°That¡¯s out of the question.¡±

    Demos took the pipe back from his mother and took a hungry pull. ¡°You¡¯re right that a woman can¡¯t inherit the imperial throne. On the other hand, what one ruler can forbid, another can permit.¡±

    ¡°Well, only if that unfortunate packet also contains an order making changes to the rules for succession¡­¡±

    ¡°It does,¡± the treasurer replied with an unhappy smile. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exaggerating when I told you we¡¯re looking at chaos.¡±

    ¡°That cannot happen. Izara would be a weak and controversial heir.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re starting to find some common ground.¡± Eltinia beamed charmingly, then nodded to her son and headed toward the garden. Demos and the chancellor were left to come to an agreement on their own.

    The treasurer watched his mother walk away before turning back to Allantain. Irving fixed his colorless and watery eyes on him.

    ¡°Which would be the greater treason?¡± the old man asked, gesturing Demos toward a marble bench next to a large torch and bowl. ¡°Doing nothing in the face of chaos or pulling some dirty tricks in an attempt to maintain order?¡±

    ¡°Is there a difference when it¡¯s treason in both cases? When I swore allegiance, it wasn¡¯t to Margius; it was to the empire. And I¡¯m less worried by the interests of one particular corpse than I am about the future of the country he couldn¡¯t find a worthy heir for.¡±

    ¡°Then you know what to do.¡±

    The scorched lord smiled grimly and clutched the edge of the packet. Allantain got up shuffled away. Once he was gone, Demos knocked the contents of his pipe out on the marble, dropped it into his pocket, and pulled himself to his feet.

    ¡°I may regret this,¡± he whispered to himself as he tossed the will into the fire burning in the bowl.

 Chapter 1. Agaran

    Brother Aristid gazed out over the Holy City from his spot leaning on the ruins of the stone wall. His shelter was on a hill, and sunrise offered a majestic view of Agaran¡ªthe morning mist still hadn¡¯t lifted, leaving the slender towers suspended in midair. The first beams of sunlight played on the golden domes of the many Shrines. Decorated with crystal, the silver disks on the temple spires glittered, while the marvelous beauty of hymns being sung wafted through the air. The city threw wide its gates to all worshippers of the Keeper in a promise of peace and rest for pilgrims preoccupied with their righteous endeavors.

    But there was no haven there for Aristid.

    The monk plucked a dew-covered blade of grass, ground it between his fingers, and breathed in the fresh scent before glancing down at his ragged shoes and plodding back into the cave he¡¯d spent the entire previous year in.

    A root soup bubbled in a pot hung over the fire. Aristid stirred the watery concoction, tried it, shrugged, and poured some into a chipped clay bowl. Pulling out a few biscuit crumbs, he tossed them right into the soup before heading outside to gaze at Agaran as he ate.

    ¡°Where are you, little guy?¡± he called, crumbling a biscuit on the rock beside him. ¡°We always eat together.¡±

    A sparrow fluttered over to the crumbs. The bird had stopped by to visit Aristid the previous year, and he hadn¡¯t shooed it away¡ªany company in his forced reclusion was welcome. The sparrow came by every day, even moving into the cave with the monk when snow blanketed the earth outside. They wintered together on dry bread, cured meat that was too salty, and roots. But Aristid kept his spirits up. Life there was peaceful, as nobody thought to look for the rebellious clergyman in one of the continent¡¯s most holy places.

    But all good things must come to an end.

    Aristid saw the figure climbing the hill toward him and placed his bowl on the ground sadly. When his guest approached, the sparrow took off in a flurry of indignant chirping.

    ¡°Peace to you, Brother Norbert,¡± said Aristid. The young man, who was as dry as a wood chip, bowed respectfully, one hand on the bag slung over his shoulder.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Blessings, holy brother,¡± came the whispered reply.

    Aristid straightened up and drew a perfect circle in the air.

    ¡°May the Keeper send you on gracious deeds, Brother Norbert. Would you have breakfast with me?¡±

    His guest nodded willingly. The silver disk dangling from a leather string around his neck bobbed and settled, catching a ray of sunlight.

    ¡°I brought food. Gifts recently arrived from Count Ekkehard, good corned beef.¡± Norbert placed his bag onto the worn earth and started pulling out its contents. ¡°I grabbed some fresh bread, a bag of biscuits, cured beef, a few eggs, and a skin of wine to keep you warm. Oh, and candles, some leather for patching, and writing paper.¡±

    Aristid shook his head.

    ¡°You spoil me, Brother Norbert. This is the second time in the last dozen days you¡¯ve brought meat!¡±

    ¡°With your ascetic lifestyle, it¡¯s okay to enjoy some worldly food on occasion.¡± The guest looked around. ¡°Praise the Keeper for the cold lifting. They say we won¡¯t be getting any more snow.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Aristid replied, gesturing Norbert toward the fire and breaking the bread. He pulled some cheese out of his bins and handed it to his guest, as well. ¡°But now for what¡¯s most important: tell me the latest news.¡±

    Norbert wiped his hands on the cleanest part of his robe, poured some soup into a bowl, and mumbled a short prayer before digging in.

    ¡°Yes, you certainly have it tough.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been worse. What news from Missolen?¡±

    ¡°Exactly what you foresaw: the emperor is dead.¡± Norbert flashed a holy sign over himself again, though Aristid didn¡¯t even twitch. ¡°May the Keeper accept his soul.¡±

    ¡°Of course, he¡¯ll accept it,¡± Aristid replied as he set his portion of bread aside and stared at his guest. ¡°Who¡¯s the heir? The Burned Lord?¡±

    ¡°There is no heir. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. You yourself prophesied that the emperor would soon retire to the Crystal Hall or be helped on his way there, and that Lord Demos would assume the throne. Everyone thought that, but¡­ The emperor didn¡¯t leave a will.¡±

    Brows furrowed, Brother Aristid thoughtfully fingered his rosary beads. Norbert didn¡¯t dare disturb him, eating the soup in silence and doing his best to keep the spoon from scraping against the sides of the bowl.

    ¡°So, I was right,¡± Aristid said finally. ¡°Almost.¡±

    Norbert shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s even better this way. There¡¯s panic in Missolen; the empire ground to a halt. And it¡¯s going to stay that way until the Council convenes, picks someone, they¡¯re crowned¡­ Nobody¡¯s going to be coming after you, that¡¯s for sure.¡± He continued talking, though the condescending smile on Aristid¡¯s face nonplussed him. ¡°Even the Great Master will forget about you for a while.¡±

    Brother Aristid just shook his head, the tranquil smile still on his lips.

    ¡°No, dear brother, this is the perfect time to grab his attention,¡± he said softly as he glanced over at his travel bag. ¡°I¡¯m leaving Agaran today. Alone. I need to get to Ellisdor as soon as possible.¡±

 Chapter 2. Ellisdor

    ¡°Got you!¡± Gregor almost caught Irital, though all he came up with was the ribbon from her hair. The girl screamed in surprise.

    ¡°Not quite!¡± She jerked her braid away hard enough that the crimson serpent slipped out of her hair to remain in Gregor¡¯s grasp. Taking a few leaps away, she made a face and bowed mockingly. ¡°Now we¡¯ll see if Gregor Voldhard is as fast as he is strong in battle.¡±

    She hitched up her skirt and dashed off in the direction of the forest before Gregor had time to think twice. With a look around, he grunted in satisfaction¡ªthey finally had a chance to get away from the girl¡¯s army of nannies. Gregor scratched his nose, straightened the collar of his shirt, slipped his trophy into his chest pocket, gauged a shortcut, and set off in pursuit. That Irital certainly was a tease. And like an idiot, he could never let her go.

    ¡°You she-devil¡­you aren¡¯t getting away!¡± he bellowed, long hurdles taking him across hummocks slippery with dew. The girl dashed like a deer across the field. She ran, laughed, threw her arms wide, and felt the wind play across her face. She was childlike, but Gregor always bore in mind who she was. Forgetting himself just once would have been inviting a world of trouble.

    ¡°Faster, Your Slowpokeness!¡± Once in the forest, Irital threw herself down on a stump and waved her arms. ¡°Well, you lose again.¡±

    All he could do was mutter to himself as he tripped over a root. Irital Urdanan was probably Latandal¡¯s fastest daughter, and certainly the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And she was destined for a great future: only one woman every hundred years was lucky enough to be born with the Mark of Gintare on her body, good enough for the emperor or a god. Gregor, of course, managed to find himself with a crush on the unattainable beauty. It was all wrong¡ªhe had the honor of being Irital¡¯s bodyguard in Highligland, and she was smitten by him, as well. Years rolled by, they both matured, and their feelings for each other remained the same. Sure, the older Irital got, the less often they were able to see each other, her retinue tightening their watchful grip over the high-born Latanian girl. On the other hand, she was a clever one, sometimes able to engineer one-on-one time with Gregor. The only problem was that they were fooling themselves more than anyone else. They both knew very well, after all, that continuing their secret romance just meant a harder parting in the end.

    The worst was that neither Gregor nor Irital had any idea when that moment would come¡ªthe Divine Sign was liable to appear at any moment. And that was why Irital Urdanan lived every day with Gregor as if it was their last.

    ¡°Well?¡± she shouted. ¡°Where are you?¡±

    Gregor forced his mind away from his train of thought. Dwelling on their murky future was the last thing he wanted to do, especially that day. All Highligland was celebrating the long-awaited coming of spring, and the weather was finally beautiful. Everyone in the capital of Ellisdor and the surrounding areas poured out onto the streets, the mood was celebratory, ale was sloshed around, and songs filled the air. Children played across the green fields. Dancing threatened to stretch through the night. But what Gregor also loved about the holidays was that he and Irital were able to find secluded spots to slip away to during all the commotion. And that was one such example: the Latanian girl turned off the path and headed toward a large fallen tree, their favorite spot.

    Gregor caught up to her in the clearing. The girl let out her golden braid, tucked her skirt into her belt, and intently scraped away at the tree with a small knife.

    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± the Highliglander asked, laying his cloak out.

    ¡°Hetz, the stableman¡¯s son, is sick. You can boil these mushrooms to get a potion that will bring down the fever, and I figured I¡¯d grab some while we¡¯re here.¡±

    Gregor waited for Irital to finish before pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair¡ªthe top of her head reached exactly to his chin. They probably made for an odd-looking pair, but he liked how fragile she was and felt an urge to protect her. In fact, next to her delicacy, he often felt rough and unpolished.

    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised everybody likes you here,¡± he said as he hugged her tightly. ¡°My people appreciate it when nobles are down to earth. Everyone already believes you¡¯re divine, and they¡¯re going to think you¡¯re a living saint when they see how you treat mere mortals.¡±

    ¡°Oh, stop it,¡± the Latanian girl replied with a wave. ¡°I don¡¯t do it to get people to like me. I don¡¯t believe in all those divine signs, either.¡±

    ¡°But they believe in them where you¡¯re from, and across the empire, too.¡± Gregor let the girl go, plopped down onto his knees, and threw his arms wide in imitation of prophetic ecstasy. ¡°I see it as if it¡¯s right here in front of me: throngs of sufferers come to Irital the Devout in hopes of receiving but a piece of her holiness that they might be healed!¡±

    The Latanian laughed loudly.

    ¡°Me? Devout? After all the taboos we¡¯ve broken?¡± She stood over him, shaking a finger in his face. ¡°Accursed sinners like us are doomed to burn in Arzimat¡¯s fires!¡±

    ¡°So, what? You look like a goddess already. Just watch¡ªone of these days, I¡¯ll come crawling to you with a request, begging you to bless some nonsense like a marriage with a fat-assed count¡¯s daughter my advisors insist on.¡±

    Irital dropped her knife in surprise.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± she asked firmly. Gregor could tell by the look in her eyes that he¡¯d gone too far. ¡°Why would you say something like that, knowing about my duty and feelings the way you do? I didn¡¯t choose to be born with the mark. I didn¡¯t choose to be someone rulers, advisors, and everyone else make decisions for. Yes, I follow their orders, but this isn¡¯t what I want.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I ¡ª¡±

    With a gesture, Irital silenced him.

    ¡°Every day, I wake up and pray that the Keeper won¡¯t give signs the clergy can twist the way they want. The only thing in my prayers is that you and I get a little more time. If it were up to me, I¡¯d turn my back on my position, my accursed fate, that sickening legation, and all the trips around the empire as a living symbol of what I myself don¡¯t even believe! But is that even possible?¡± Irital¡¯s head drooped as she wiped an exasperated tear from her cheek with her sleeve. She was always brave, hated crying in front of other people¡ªthat was how she was raised, and it was who she was. ¡°When you¡¯re born with the Mark of Gintare, you¡¯re no longer your own. That¡¯s the law. Either they¡¯ll give me to an emperor or, if the sign doesn¡¯t appear, they¡¯ll lock me up in a cloister until the end of my days.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like either of those options.¡± Gregor stepped closer to Irital and once again hugged her tightly. She let out a small gasp from the strength of his embrace. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m an idiot, and I spoke without thinking. I¡¯d give anything for us to be together. It was all over for me back in the Order when I saw you for the first time¡ªeven when they brought me back into the world, handed me titles, and started throwing noblewomen my way, I never had eyes for anyone but you. Unless that enchanting head of yours comes up with a genius plan for how to foil the prophecy and turn the tables on the most powerful people in the world, I¡¯m going to die a bachelor in love.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s no easy job, and it¡¯s one I¡¯ve thought about so many times. At the very least, we can wait until we¡¯re old and my womb dries up. Then we can join a cloister together.¡±

    Gregor shivered.

    ¡°That¡¯s the only thing that could make me go back there. You know how much I hate those places.¡±

    Irital shrugged and forced a smile.

    ¡°At least, we¡¯ll be able to pray for forgiveness for all our profligate sins.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all we¡¯ll be able to do.¡±

    Once again, the conversation turned to jokes, which is what always happened when they started talking about the future. Gregor was starting to think that biding his time until old age, when he could spend his last year together with his love, wouldn¡¯t have been the worst idea if it hadn¡¯t been for the hatred he harbored for the Order. He didn¡¯t want to spend his whole life waiting, either.

    ¡°Get over here.¡± Pulling the girl closer, he kissed her. Irital responded in kind¡ªintensely, the way she always did when she remembered how short a time they had for happiness. Her hands found their way to his short-cropped hair as she closed her eyes and surrendered control.

    Somewhere behind them, from the direction of the field, a twig snapped. Gregor pulled away.

    ¡°Hide behind a tree,¡± he said. ¡°If something happens, we¡¯ll head back separately.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Irital looked around, made sure nothing was there that could give her away, and ducked behind the fallen tree. After brushing off his clothes, Gregor picked up his cloak and stepped toward the person moving through the underbrush, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

    ¡°It¡¯s me¡ªAldor!¡± came a loud whisper. ¡°Don¡¯t attack, your lordship.¡±

    Gregor sighed in relief. Steward Aldor den Grauer was the only friend who knew about the secret he and Irital shared.

    ¡°Alone?¡±

    ¡°Yes. The lady can come out, too. I know you¡¯re together.¡±

    Irital peered out cautiously from behind her tree.

    ¡°Aldor, the look on your face,¡± she remarked in amazement. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Grauer really was a site¡ªhis chestnut locks were disheveled, his face and its unusually soft features for a northerner were pale, and his eyes darted to and fro. Gregor even thought he caught a shiver run down his friend¡¯s slender body.

    ¡°What are those?¡± he asked, nodding at the letters jutting out of the steward¡¯s waist bag.

    ¡°News from the capital. The first is for Your Grace; the second for Lady Irital. Forgive me.¡±

    ¡°Oh, god, for what?¡±

    ¡°For being the bearer of bad news.¡± Aldor handed them the letters. ¡°Please, read them immediately. It¡¯s important.¡±

    Gregor grabbed the thick paper rolled up and stamped with the seal of the imperial palace. Irital, seeing her native Latandal¡¯s crest, hesitated for a second, but then took it and broke the wax.

    ¡°Merciful Keeper and his son Gillenai!¡± Gregor exclaimed. ¡°Uncle Margius¡­ The emperor is dead.¡±

    ¡°May his soul rest in the Crystal Hall,¡± Aldor replied out of habit. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry, Your Grace.¡±

    Gregor gave him an annoyed and dismissive wave.

    ¡°What good does you being sorry do? It says the will was lost, and my uncle doesn¡¯t have any direct heirs. As his nephew on my mother¡¯s side, I¡¯m being summoned to the Council in the capital so we can select the next emperor.¡±

    Aldor glanced over at Irital in alarm. The girl was reading her letter, completely unaware of what Gregor was saying. And the farther she got, the paler her face turned. Once she finished, she dropped the letter and staggered slightly¡ªGregor barely had time to grab hold of her. Aldor picked the paper up off the leaves. It was written in the Latanian script, an ancient language he couldn¡¯t read.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Irital, what¡¯s the matter?¡±

    ¡°The lady needs to sit down!¡± Aldor ripped his cloak off his shoulders and threw it on the trunk of the fallen tree. Carefully supporting his love, Gregor set her down and noted the chills wracking her. ¡°I have smelling salts somewhere¡­¡±

    Irital, still pale, took the crystal bottle the steward handed her, breathed in deeply, and grimaced sharply before speaking.

    ¡°The sign¡­¡± To the men¡¯s deep concern, her lips barely moved. She looked scared to death. ¡°The clerics saw the sign. I¡¯m being summoned to Missolen, too.¡±

    The duke stared at her in disbelief.

    ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll set sail together. I¡¯ll have them outfit a ship. And hey, that¡¯s even better so long as¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it!¡± Irital shrieked suddenly. A look of such agony twisted her face that Gregor and Aldor recoiled in surprise. ¡°It¡¯s a terrible sign! I¡¯m being summoned to the capital so they can give me away to the emperor.¡±

    ***

    ¡°How can they give you to the emperor if he¡¯s dead?¡± Wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, Gregor nervously paced the small hall in Ellisdor Castle. The young duke¡¯s powerful figure barely squeezed in between the table and the wall.

    ¡°And he didn¡¯t leave any heirs,¡± Irital added. She¡¯d changed to better fit the spring festival and looked regal and refined as befit her status. But the cold was getting to her¡ªAldor noticed how she kept hiding her hands in her fur.

    Only Lady Rhinhilda, Gregor¡¯s sister, it seemed, was enjoying the usual cold. She was at ease, her cloak discarded, as she took deceptively languid pulls of the spiced wine Aldor had had brought from the kitchen.

    A ragged chorus broke out in the courtyard as soldiers recently returned from a campaign to the Disputed Lands bellowed a song so loudly, they could be heard all the way up in the topmost floors of the manor house. Barrels of ale were rolled out of the cellars, while pig carcasses turned slowly over fires. The wondrous aroma of roasting meat filled the air. Servants loaded the tables with pies, loaves of bread, and platters of baked venison. The dancing in the main hall reached a fever pitch. In a word, nobody had noticed that the castle¡¯s masters were missing.

    Aldor pushed his cup away, threw an anxious glance in Rhinhilda¡¯s direction, and once again marveled at the similarities between the siblings. She and her brother were both fair-haired, blue-eyed, tall, and hefty as northern trees. Sure, Gregor¡¯s personality turned more toward their father¡ªhe was just as stubborn, passionate, and direct as the late Lord Rolf. Rhinhilda was more akin to their mother, the dead emperor¡¯s sister. Concise and preferring to keep to herself, she still had a sharp wit and enjoyed the adoration of the people. Gregor often came to her for advice, still unused to life after the Order.

    ¡°We know one thing: there¡¯s going to be a new emperor.¡± Rhinhilda tossed her thick braid over her shoulder. ¡°He¡¯ll be selected from among the remaining relatives at the Council in Missolen, where Gregor has been ordered to go. That¡¯s all in the letter.¡±

    Gregor finally stopped pacing and turned to his sister.

    ¡°So, Irital has been given to who-knows-who.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± Aldor nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s unthinkable!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the prophecy of Gintare of Taldor!¡± Rhinhilda exclaimed. ¡°Over the centuries, the prophecies of the Latanian clerics have never once led us astray.¡±

    Rhinhilda was obviously exasperated by her brother¡¯s inability to separate reason from emotion, while Aldor was afraid to put himself between them. He could understand the lady¡¯s annoyance¡ªin an instant, the normal way of life in Highligland could change, and Rhinhilda, so far just the first woman in the duchy, didn¡¯t want to give way to worry. Gregor¡¯s hot temper could also get him in trouble, and that was probably what she was most nervous about.

    ¡°The clerics can interpret the sign however they want,¡± the young duke replied. ¡°Was it even the right sign? It all fits together too well¡ªas soon as my uncle gave up the ghost, the sign appeared. Quite the coincidence, no? Maybe the holies just saw what they wanted to see.¡±

    Her last vestiges of self-control gone, Rhinhilda leaped up from the bench, which creaked plaintively.

    ¡°Listen to yourself, Gregor Voldhard! You¡¯re the Duke of Highligland, and you¡¯re talking like a heretic!¡± Realizing that she¡¯d grabbed her brother by the collar in her fit of rage, she jerked her hand back sheepishly. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say anything like that outside these walls unless you want to finish us all. Going up against Eclusum is the last thing you need.¡±

    ¡°Lord Gregor¡­ Your Grace,¡± Aldor said finally. He hurriedly poured some wine into two chalices and handed them to the quarreling siblings with a light bow before they could push themselves over the edge. ¡°Lady Rhinhilda is right¡ªnow is the time to be especially careful. Eclusum and the Great Master were none too pleased to give you your title. The church doesn¡¯t just return to the world on a whim those who have taken the vow, and your father paid dearly for your title after the death of Lord Lotar.¡±

    The duke shook his head tiredly.

    ¡°Aldor, don¡¯t start. I know I shouldn¡¯t have gotten it.¡±

    ¡°But you did, and here we are. As your faithful servant and friend, it¡¯s my responsibility to remind you of that. You and Lady Rhinhilda are the last of the Voldhards, though nobody prepared you to rule. Your sister is promised to the Gatson prince and will soon be heading south. And that just leaves you in charge of Highligland. Of course, your advisors are going to have their own interests in mind, and they¡¯re going to try to steer you where they need you to go. Your father and older brother are dead. Your mother retreated from the worldly life. And here you are, all alone against the kind of people who eat pawns like us for breakfast! So, please, I¡¯m begging you to think carefully about whatever decision you make. One mistake will cost all of Highligland dearly.¡±

    Gregor listened to his friend in silence, casting glances in Irital¡¯s direction. Still not recovered from the shocking news, the girl was sitting motionless and statuesque at the table. Rhinhilda nodded her thanks to Aldor for his support before taking her brother by the hand. With her that close, Aldor jumped¡ªhe was always shy around her, fostering a secret crush. The one difference with the proximity was that he had to look up at her, as Rhinhilda had grown into a strong she-warrior from the northern legends towering half a head above him.

    ¡°It¡¯s reality, Gregor,¡± she said softly. ¡°The girl¡¯s promised to the next emperor, whoever he might be. You just have to accept that.¡±

    ¡°The girl is still here,¡± Irital said finally. Aldor didn¡¯t like her tone. ¡°She¡¯s still the Latanian ambassador, and she can speak for herself.¡±

    Rhinhilda smiled thinly.

    ¡°What would the lady ambassador like to say?¡±

    Irital motioned everyone to be seated. After glancing around the hall to make sure there were no unwanted listeners, she started speaking in a hurried and low voice.

    ¡°Gregor will go to the Council and spend the first few days behaving as though nothing happened. He can listen to the nobles give speeches, look over the contenders, make new acquaintances¡ªthere will be plenty of people in Missolen looking to befriend him. I¡¯ll stay here.¡±

    Rhinhilda stared at the Latanian in amazement.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ Lady Irital, do I understand correctly that you intend to refuse your holy duty?¡±

    ¡°You do,¡± Irital replied calmly. And there was such strength in her voice that Aldor realized she¡¯d made up her mind. He glanced quickly at the duke and barely held his tongue. His friend had sighed in relief and was smiling happily, almost as if someone had rolled an enormous boulder off his shoulders. Rhinhilda was lost for words. And the more what she knew her brother was about to say sank in, the wider Gregor¡¯s grin spread.

    ¡°Tell them already!¡± Irital burst out. ¡°Or I will. Either way, they¡¯re going to find out soon enough, and I¡¯d rather it be from us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Grace, would you be so kind?¡± Rhinhilda said, her voice strained. ¡°What idiocy did you two think up?¡±

    Gregor stood up, straightened his shoulders, and stared at Irital, not finding the strength to look his sister in the eye. The ambassador held her breath.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to the capital to announce at the Council my right to the imperial throne. Irital and I have loved each other for a long time, and neither she nor I are willing to sacrifice our feelings at the whim of a clutch of corrupt clergymen. Once I¡¯m the emperor, I can make her my wife to keep everybody¡¯s honor clean. But it¡¯s better than Irital stays here in Highligland until I get back.¡±

    Aldor¡¯s stomach dropped. Of course, he wanted all the best for his friend and would have given anything to make sure Gregor enjoyed the happiness he so richly deserved, only Gregor¡¯s plan threatened to plunge not just the empire into chaos, but even far-off Highligland. For if Irital decided to decline her destiny, the Latanians would hunt her¡ªthe laws governing women with the Mark of Gintare were strict. Defying divine will was a capital offense.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to hear about that!¡± Rhinhilda shrieked. She slammed a fist down on the table, forgetting that her chalice was full and sending the ruby liquid curving neatly through the air until it splashed against the wall. ¡°It¡¯s madness, Gregor. You¡¯re not going to get anything at the Council, and you¡¯ll just line everyone in the capital up against you.¡±

    The duke simply shrugged indifferently.

    ¡°For a start, I¡¯ll just announce my candidacy. Nothing¡¯s illegal about that, and nobody will trust me.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re not going to stop there. You need to become emperor for your plan to work¡­ Oh, god, Gregor, do you even realize the kind of people they are there? Do you know who you¡¯re going to be up against? Just take the Burned Lord¡ªhe was Margius¡¯ favorite. Before you have time to open your mouth, he or his allies will eat you alive!¡±

    Rhinhilda¡¯s consternation couldn¡¯t have been more heartfelt. Even Aldor was alarmed. He would never have imagined that his friend could be foolish enough to bet everything he held dear, even for the sake of the most beautiful woman in the world.

    ¡°I know the risk, sister. But I made my decision.¡± Gregor turned icy eyes on Rhinhilda and held out a hand, motioning her to be silent. ¡°I value your love and advice; I¡¯m thankful you stayed with me and came to my aid when father brought me back from the cloister. But Aldor is right¡ªyou¡¯re leaving soon, and I have to live on my own. The Keeper as my witness, I didn¡¯t want it to go this far, but you¡¯re forcing my hand.¡± He stepped over to his sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I, Duke of Highligland and Lord of Ellisdor, order you to submit to my will. I will go to Missolen and carry out my plan, and any attempt to impede me will be considered treason.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°And if you find it so unbearable to live with someone just trying to avail himself of the chance fate offered, you can set off for Gatson earlier than planned. The crown prince, I imagine, will be only too happy to see his betrothed.¡±

    Rhinhilda stared silently at her brother, unable to believe her ears. Finally, she pulled her shoulder away from his hand, adjusted her sleeve string, lifted her chin proudly, and looked back up at Gregor.

    ¡°As Your Grace wishes,¡± she replied coldly with a ceremonious bow. ¡°I will leave for Gatson as soon as possible and attempt to find allies there. God only knows, we¡¯ll soon need them.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Before I leave, would you allow me one last word of advice, Lord Gregor?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Give Highligland an heir before the capital elite grinds you into the dust.¡±

    Her piece said, Rhinhilda grabbed her cloak and left the hall in a hurry. Irital got up from the bench as soon as the door slammed shut behind her.

    ¡°Let me talk to her. I¡¯ll try to explain¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be wasting your breath.¡± Gregor slumped down onto the bench and drained his goblet. ¡°She won¡¯t understand. Rhiny always put duty above everything, possibly because she¡¯s never known love.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still going to try.¡±

    Irital stepped hurriedly through the door, finally leaving the two friends alone. Aldor nodded quizzically toward the pitcher; Gregor slid his empty cup closer without a word.

    ¡°You were too hard on her,¡± the steward said. ¡°Rhinhilda didn¡¯t deserve that.¡±

    The duke took a long pull and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

    ¡°She forced my hand. God, Rhiny is so like mother sometimes! She didn¡¯t love father for a second, though she stuck with him until the very end. Even with the mistress he had. She spent her life focused on her duty, and I don¡¯t think she was happy for a minute.¡±

    ¡°Lady Viviana fulfilled her duty to the empire and Highligland. It¡¯s no wonder she raised her daughter to do the same¡ªRhinhilda only cares about her homeland, and she¡¯ll do anything to ensure peace here. You, Gregor, take after your father. You have his recklessness.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have a mistress, at least.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re only twenty-three, with your whole life ahead of you,¡± Aldor replied. ¡°Seriously, you have me worried. I¡¯m just some guy who happened to go to school with you, but I share Rhinhilda¡¯s opinion. You¡¯re jumping into a very dangerous game.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to start that, too?¡±

    Aldor took a drink of wine before placing his cup down on the table with a hollow thud.

    ¡°I know my place,¡± was his calm response. ¡°I¡¯m the younger son of a baron, and all I have is what you¡¯ve given me. You have my oath of allegiance¡ªI¡¯m here to follow your orders.¡±

    Gregor peered attentively at his friend, his icy stare sending a chill through Aldor. It was a look he¡¯d seen on several occasions back in the Order, when then-Brother Gregor got into fights with his tutors and the elder friars, when he took his punishment for insolence with stubborn tranquility. It was in that moment that Aldor realized the duke had long since made up his mind¡ªhe cared more about Irital than he did about his ancestral home, one he was still unused to calling his own. Irital was his dream. Even with just the most elusive chance of making her his own, Gregor Voldhard was not about to rethink his plans no matter the consequences.

    ¡°Good,¡± the duke said stiffly. ¡°Your first order is to prepare for my departure. I will be leaving Ellisdor tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°So soon?¡±

    ¡°I have to hurry. The sooner I leave for Missolen, the better my chances are of making some useful friends. Maybe there will be someone prepared to support my claim.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wise. At least, as much as anything about this whole idea can be wise,¡± Aldor muttered. ¡°Will there be anything else?¡±

    ¡°As long as Rhinhilda is here, the castle is hers to command. But as soon as she leaves, Ellisdor belongs to you. Prepare the documents for me to sign.¡±

    Aldor was dumbfounded.

    ¡°Are you joking?¡±

    ¡°Oh, stop it! There wasn¡¯t anyone at the Order better than you at stewardship. What I need right now is for the castle to be under the watchful eye of someone I trust, and for someone to keep Irital safe. As soon as the crowd in Missolen realizes she¡¯s breaking her oath, they¡¯re going to try to punish or at least get their hands on her.¡±

    ¡°You can only have trusted people taking care of you. And there aren¡¯t many of those.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Count Urst and his son are still in the Disputed Lands bogged down in all their fights with the Runds. Ekkehard is full of crap¡ªit¡¯s just an accident of birth he¡¯s my cousin, and I wouldn¡¯t trust him with a secret like that for anything. My personal guard is out of the question, too, unless we want the whole world to hear about this. We need someone without a horse in this race. Can you think of anyone like that?¡±

    For the first time that evening, Aldor smiled as he felt some semblance of confidence grow inside him.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing your family has old debtors outside Ellisdor.¡±

 Chapter 3. The free city Givoi

    Why was he there again?

    It was a warm night, but Vezzam was thrown from chill to fever and back again. Once again, as he did several times a week, he¡¯d come by to hide in the shadow of the annex. Vezzam himself wasn¡¯t sure why it was a habit that had already been going on for an entire year. His legs carried him there on their own to watch as Artanna stealthily saddled her horse. Over the years, he¡¯d come to know her habits like the back of his hand: when she headed toward the city on foot, she was on her way to grab some drinks at one of the taverns; when she rode off on horseback in an effort to get away unnoticed, she was going for a romp in the sack with Guiro.

    That evening, she was on horseback.

    Vezzam pulled his hood down almost to his nose. His hair, already gray the way all mature Vagrans turned, was shaggy and hanging down over his eyes. That was okay though¡ªthere wasn¡¯t anything to see right then. About an hour before, Artanna nar Toll, his commander, had flown lightly up the steps of the building in front of him, disappearing behind the iron-fettered doors.

    He stood there staring at the window of the well-lit bedroom, on the other side of which, he could hear the cheerful clinking of glasses, Guiro¡¯s baritone, and Artanna¡¯s gruff laughter.

    To some extent, Vezzam did understand why he went there every time. Guiro knew how to make her happy, something Vezzam and his doleful demeanor, not to mention his conspicuously absent sense of humor, was unable to do. It was only when she was chatting with the consequential Gatson that Artanna really and truly laughed, turning the clock back to when her precious Lord Rolf was still alive. Vezzam would have given a finger, any finger, to hear that same carefree laugh when she was with him.

    Rolf Voldhard had died three years prior, and only Federigo Guido had been able to make Artanna come out of a mourning period she didn¡¯t even have a right to in the first place. For that, Vezzam was appreciative of the viceroy¡¯s aide. He hated him for everything else.

    A gaunt, towering Vagran woman with tousled gray hair stepped out of the bedroom onto the balcony. She looked youthful, though Vezzam knew she would be turning fifty the next year. It was that way with their people¡ªthey turned gray early, though they lived for a century and a half. Artanna was only wearing a shirt, her bare feet padding across the cold stone. Settling herself on the railing, she pulled out a pipe and set to work packing it full of tobacco.

    Right behind Artanna, grabbing a robe as he came, was Federigo Guiro himself. He had dark, curly hair sprinkled with white on the temples, an aristocratic face, and a well-groomed beard trimmed in the Gatson style. While he wasn¡¯t as tall as Artanna, he was still built better than the average person who¡¯d never seen battle and had recently turned fifty. The viceroy¡¯s aide was carrying a small tray of drinks, a miniature candle, and a match to light the pipe.

    Vezzam crept through the shadows until he was right under the balcony, in the perfect spot to overhear the conversation.

    ¡°The port, Federigo,¡± Artanna said slowly. ¡°I want the port.¡±

    ¡°Tanor has that.¡±

    ¡°I know, but his fighters have their fingers in everything that¡¯s going on, and Tanor himself pockets a percentage of the bribes. The city is losing a lot of money.¡±

    ¡°Like you¡¯re not going to skim a little,¡± Guiro said with a grunt as he handed the woman the burning match. Artanna carefully lit her pipe.

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m going to. But my people actually do their jobs¡ªthey¡¯ll be able to keep things quiet at the port. And with the fair season coming up¡­¡±

    ¡°What about just splitting it down the middle? You can have the northern half of the port; Tanor can take the southern half. Sounds fair to me.¡±

    Artanna snorted.

    ¡°Yeah, right, so I¡¯ll be up there guarding the crap while Tanor gets the cash cows? No, my dear signor, that will not do.¡±

    The Gatson sighed heavily before draping an arm lovingly over the woman¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°Enough business. You and Tanor have my head spinning between the two of you.¡±

    Artanna let out a perfect circle of smoke and watched it drift upward toward the cloudy and blue-gray sky. The crescent moon cast its rays over the gabled peaks of the trading district, threatening shadows of towers and weathercocks stretching across the houses. Only the enormous silver disk atop the sanctuary in the square shone like a lighthouse amid the darkness.

    ¡°The viceroy himself wanted to sign contracts with two mercenary groups,¡± the Vagran woman said. ¡°My Hundred does better work, it¡¯s just that there aren¡¯t enough of us to cover all of Givoi. On the other hand, Tanor¡¯s Brotherhood is exactly the kind of fodder you want the arrows hitting if something goes south. Signor Kirino knew what he was signing up for. Givoi is a free city, something¡¯s always going on, and competing mercenaries just add color. But that happens everywhere there are people like us.¡±

    Vezzam¡¯s legs were falling asleep. He tried to stretch them, but in the process stepped on a dry twig. It snapped; he froze.

    Happily, the commander was focused on more important things. Artanna nar Toll turned her face toward the city and let one leg dangle. Guiro set two glasses of wine down on the stone ledge and leaned his elbows on the railing.

    ¡°Hey, have you ever thought about giving up the mercenary life?¡± he asked thoughtfully.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like a quieter life?¡±

    The Vagran woman laughed hoarsely.

    ¡°Signor Guiro doesn¡¯t get that for Artanna nar Toll, this rat race is a quiet life! Signor Guiro has never been farther north than Ellisdor, never taken on the Runds, and never been taken captive by them. Signor Guido just doesn¡¯t have anything to compare this with.¡± She chuckled. ¡°No, my dear Federigo, I enjoy my life. My job, my estate, the mercenary contract, and a hundred well-trained cutthroats. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve had anything as quiet as this past year.¡±

    Carried away by her thoughts, Artanna didn¡¯t notice Guiro¡¯s hand creep toward the folds of his robe. She couldn¡¯t have seen his fingers encircle a piece of cold metal in his pocket. Of course, neither could Vezzam, frozen as he was in tense silence right under the balcony.

    Sweat broke out on Guiro¡¯s brow. He was nervous, his shaking fingers gripping what he thought would free Artanna from all her worldly cares. The Gatson eased closer to the woman, her scar-covered legs swinging over the railing, and slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket.

    She didn¡¯t even turn. Not so much as an eyebrow was raised when he got to her; to the contrary, she just pressed her back against his chest.

    ¡°Turn around, Artanna,¡± he said in a strange voice. ¡°I want to see your face.¡±

    The mercenary woman grunted, slipped her legs easily over the balcony railing, and turned around to gaze deeply into Guiro¡¯s eyes. It took a special person to appreciate Vagran looks, but their women knew what they were doing. The gray hair framing the slowly aging and still-young face, the slanted gray eyes, the facial features practically chiseled out of bone, all of it was repellent until the moment it sucked you in. At least, that was the case until Artanna opened her mouth.

    ¡°What¡¯s that crap, Guiro?¡± she hissed indignantly, staring at his hands.

    The viceroy¡¯s aide froze for a second as he did battle with his emotions.

    ¡°A ring with a diamond mined in the Shungar Mountains,¡± Guido replied steadily, pulling back the cloth the piece of jewelry was resting on. The gem was as large as one of Artanna¡¯s nails. ¡°The Tears of Luweyn¡ªthat¡¯s what these stones are called.¡±

    ¡°Pink, yes? Are you kidding me?¡± the mercenary burst out as she looked mockingly at the Gatson.

    ¡°I¡¯m tired of all of this. We¡¯ve been sleeping together for a year; we get along great. And I¡¯m tired of watching you torn between your brigade and me. Let¡¯s make it legitimate. You¡¯ll be a signora, you¡¯ll join the city council, and you can start doing something aboveboard. Obviously, you¡¯ll outlive me, but that¡¯s fine¡ªyou¡¯ll be a respected widow. With me, you¡¯ll have money, and I¡¯ll make sure you have a good life as well as the children we can still have if we hurry.¡±

    Vezzam was numb. He couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. Something crushed down on his chest, he suddenly felt like vomiting, and it felt like he was at the end of his rope. Wobbling, he grasped the wall to keep from falling. Guiro¡¯s words pounded over and over in his head.

    The mercenary woman took her time before replying. Vezzam strained his ears in the darkness.

    Finally, Artanna took her glass and emptied it in one gulp.

    ¡°Children, Guiro¡­ We have a problem there.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for you?¡±

    ¡°After my imprisonment¡­ They did all kinds of things to me there. My healer doesn¡¯t think I can have children after my adventures in Rundkar, and even if I get pregnant, I might not be strong enough to carry it through,¡± came the gloomy reply. ¡°And really, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m a good match for a person as respected as you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind a childless marriage.¡± Guido sat down on the carved bench and started filling his pipe with tobacco. ¡°At the end of the day, I have three sons from Luchia, the Keeper rest her soul. If that¡¯s the only thing holding you back, you don¡¯t have any reason to worry.¡±

    ¡°But what¡¯s the point, Federigo?¡± Artanna stared at him dubiously. ¡°Things are great as it is.¡±

    The viceroy¡¯s aide smiled.

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d say that. It¡¯s not just that I¡¯d like to see you more often, although, let¡¯s be honest, I certainly would. But even more than that, I know you break the law on a fairly regular basis. Stop looking at me like that¡ªyou¡¯re not going to turn me into stone. Of course, I know, otherwise, what kind of viceroy¡¯s aide would I be? And at the beginning, your tricks really bothered me. But then, I found out that you don¡¯t get anything out of all of that. You set up your little showdowns, you run your little kangaroo courts, and you pocket everything left lying around, though none of it is for you. Have you never wondered why you have yet to get caught?¡±

    Artanna shrugged, her eyes on the ring lying on the bench by Guiro.

    ¡°I usually just count on my brains and good luck. But that¡¯s not all I have going for me, I guess?¡±

    ¡°How astute,¡± the viceroy¡¯s aide grunted. ¡°I¡¯ve had my eye on you for a long time. And as soon as I realized why you had to do things the way you did, I started doing what I could to cover your skinny behind.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think you¡¯re just paying me back for sleeping with you.¡±

    ¡°I started helping you long before the fateful day we got drunk at the market and woke up the next morning in the same bed. There¡¯s no need to mix the two things up.¡±

    Artanna grinned crookedly.

    ¡°Since today is apparently a day of discoveries, why don¡¯t you tell me why you haven¡¯t had me sent to prison yet.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the obvious.¡± Guiro let out a stream of smoke. ¡°You aren¡¯t a signora in this city. Regardless of the service you¡¯ve done Givoi, you don¡¯t have access to many of the privileges citizens enjoy. Legally, you can only get full citizenship once you¡¯ve lived here for twenty years.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget that I¡¯m Vagran,¡± Artanna jumped in. ¡°When the time comes, I won¡¯t have even started to get old.¡±

    The viceroy¡¯s aide nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. But you¡¯ve seen for yourself over the past eight years how little you can do within the law. Once you¡¯re my wife, you¡¯ll immediately become a signora with influence over the city¡¯s life. Direct influence, Artanna. I really like you as a woman, but if that was all there was, I wouldn¡¯t have proposed.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s say you¡¯re right. What¡¯s in it for you? You could just go on covering my butt while I quietly pursue the brand of street justice that lines up with my twisted conception of what¡¯s fair.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not prepared to wait twelve years,¡± Guiro replied. ¡°Whatever your methods may be, they do good out there. You help outsiders, take care of people who aren¡¯t yet citizens. I mean, you¡¯re from Vag Ran yourself, and you know what I¡¯m talking about¡ªthey treat you like dirt here.¡±

    Artanna¡¯s laughter gurgled through the air.

    ¡°Okay, so your big proposal is just a mutually beneficial alliance?¡±

    ¡°With a little lust thrown in for good measure, guilty as charged,¡± Guiro smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t lie to you¡ªI¡¯m no spring chicken, so I¡¯m not even going to try wooing you like a young man might.¡±

    ¡°You try that, and I¡¯ll stick that ring somewhere even my healer wouldn¡¯t be able to retrieve it from,¡± the Vagran muttered amiably.

    Federigo Guiro¡¯s smile widened.

    ¡°I have no intention of testing your capabilities in that regard. So, are we in agreement?¡±

    Down under the balcony, Vezzam held his breath. He didn¡¯t believe in either miracles or aid from the gods, but right then he would have been happy to pray to all that was holy if only Artanna would decline.

    The mercenary woman shook her head.

    ¡°You can¡¯t make decisions like that quickly, signor. I¡¯ll be honest, it¡¯s a tempting offer, but there¡¯s something a little more important. I got everything I have right now in exchange for an oath. After I was imprisoned, I was taken before a court in Highligland. Lord Rolf made sure that I was just banished instead of being executed as a traitor, and he even gave me money to buy an estate. But he made me take an oath in exchange.¡±

    ¡°What oath?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m bound to answer the first call sent by Rolf or any of his descendants for as long as I¡¯m breathing. I have to defend and act in the interests of any Voldhard that summons me, even if doing so puts me in mortal danger. Federigo, my life is on loan. All my peace and quiet could end tomorrow¡ªRolf left two children behind him. Every day, I wake up and wonder if this is the day I get the message¡­ And, my dear signor, it was a blood oath. All the Highligland elite were there when I took it. So, how can I give myself to you when I don¡¯t even belong to myself?¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°That explains a lot,¡± Guiro said thoughtfully.

    ¡°Yes, and it changes a lot, too.¡±

    ¡°Why did you never tell me about that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like to think about it.¡±

    Vezzam closed his eyes and sighed in relief. His sigh, however, might have been too loud¡ªthe mercenary jerked away from Guiro, downed her wine, and squinted out over the balcony.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± she called loudly.

    Even though Artanna couldn¡¯t have seen him, Vezzam pressed himself against the wall. From where he was, it was hard to see what was happening at the other end of the alley, though the Vagran had heard footsteps approaching. Someone was running right up to the house. Vezzam crouched down and practically crawled to the annex, from which there was a much better view.

    A heavyset woman in a white cap struggling with her skirts ran up to the house and started pounding her fists on the door in a frenzy. Her heart-rending shriek cut through the silence on the street.

    ¡°Signor Guiro! Signor Guiro! Help!¡±

    The bolt slid back, and a guard stuck his nose out from behind the door.

    ¡°What do you need? Don¡¯t you know how late it is?¡±

    The woman was relentless. ¡°He¡¯s killing her! Help, in the name of the Keeper!¡±

    ¡°Crazy woman,¡± the doorkeeper muttered. ¡°I told you¡ªcome back in the morning. Except, go to the town hall, not here.¡±

    ¡°Have pity! He¡¯s going to kill her right now!¡±

    Artanna and Guiro exchanged glances. The mercenary woman leaped down from her perch and strode purposefully into the bedroom. Sticking her gray hair out onto the balcony, she addressed Federigo, who hadn¡¯t moved.

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Someone¡¯s in trouble.¡±

    Guiro got up and followed her out, grabbing the belt for his robe as he went. But by that time, Artanna had pulled on pants, had thrown her jacket over her shoulders, and was across the hall and down the stairs in a few leaps. The hall was well-lit. The woman outside continued to wail.

    ¡°Let her in,¡± said the master of the house from behind the mercenary woman¡¯s shoulder.

    The guard stood aside begrudgingly.

    ¡°I know you.¡± The mercenary peered closely at the woman. ¡°You¡¯re Claretta, wife of Vazash, the carpenter. A Vagran.¡±

    ¡°Miss Artanna!¡± the woman howled, throwing herself forward. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re here! Vazash sent to your manor for help.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Nareza is in trouble. Matteo wants to kill her!¡±

    ¡°Slow down, woman!¡± Guiro said, his voice lifting. ¡°Start at the beginning.¡±

    Claretty wiped away tears and tried to pull herself together. Her cap slid down, baring dark, curly hair with a touch of gray.

    ¡°Paolo, the shipwright in the harbor, has a son named Matteo. A lanky guy with fishy eyes.¡±

    ¡°I remember him,¡± Artanna replied with a nod. ¡°Unpleasant kid. His family is friends with Tanor. So, what did he do?¡±

    ¡°He started wooing my Nareza. She¡¯s beautiful, suitors everywhere you turn, and she turned Matteo down since he¡¯s already married. That¡¯s what she told him¡ªthe Keeper prefers it when a husband just lies with his one woman.¡±

    ¡°And I guess that wasn¡¯t enough for him?¡±

    ¡°No! He kept stopping by the workshop, and then he even started following her around. Once, he grabbed Nareza at the market; another time, he came up to her after a service at the Sanctuary. He won¡¯t leave her alone, he buys her gifts, but she always turns him down. And then, it happened.¡±

    Artanna sat the woman down on a bench.

    ¡°Keep going.¡±

    ¡°About a month ago, I sent Nareza to a village half a day¡¯s journey north. Vazash was working on a big project for the elder in their community¡ªNareza was supposed to show him the drawings and get his final approval. The boys are too young to handle that. But then¡­ Matteo, that little rat! He ambushed her right outside the city.¡±

    ¡°And what did he do?¡±

    ¡°What do randy little boys do wo girls? He forced himself on her! And then he swore that if Nareza told someone, he¡¯d up and kill her. She just told me today, and that was only because the bastard got her pregnant.¡±

    A shadow flitted across Federigo¡¯s face.

    ¡°That filth,¡± Artanna spat out. ¡°Where is he?¡±

    Claretta¡¯s arms flew up. ¡°That¡¯s not all! When my little girl told me what happened, Vazash flew into a rage. He¡¯s a fiery one, you know as well as I do. He dashed over to Matteo¡¯s house and wanted to have it out with the riffraff. But only his wife was home, and she didn¡¯t believe him. At least, if she did, she pretended she had no idea what he was talking about. But she told Matteo when he got home, and he was furious¡­ He grabbed a few of Tanor¡¯s other guys, broke into our house, turned everything upside down, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is everyone still alive?¡±

    ¡°Vazash is hurt bad¡ªbroken arms and legs.¡± Claretta¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°He needs a healer. Thankfully, the boys were outside when it happened. But Nareza¡­ That monster cut her sweet face. Have pity, Keeper¡­ I hid, and then I jumped out the back door and dashed over here, sending our youngest to the Hundred on the way.¡±

    Artanna listened darkly to the end of the ragged story.

    ¡°What do you think, Federigo?¡±

    ¡°He needs to be put on trial, without question.¡±

    ¡°And what kind of sentence do you think he¡¯s going to get? Paolo and Tanor will have time to pay everybody off. But if I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it.¡± Guiro grabbed Artanna by the arm. ¡°This is too serious¡ªPaolo is an important person in the city.¡±

    Artanna¡¯s gray eyes gleamed dangerously.

    ¡°And so, his kid is going to walk?¡±

    ¡°There are legal procedures that they¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know your legal procedures,¡± Artanna snarled as she pulled herself away from the Gatson. ¡°They won¡¯t do anything since Vazash isn¡¯t a citizen.¡±

    ¡°Calm down, Artanna! I can¡¯t do anything until morning.¡±

    ¡°But I can,¡± the Vagran hissed, buttoning her jacket. ¡°Give me my weapon. Claretta will stay here, and you don¡¯t leave here, either, until I send word.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going alone?¡± Guiro asked in surprise. ¡°Are you crazy?¡±

    Artanna strapped the blades the servant brought to her belt and put on her cloak.

    ¡°Of course not.¡±

    The viceroy¡¯s aide shook his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t approve of this.¡±

    ¡°As if that¡¯s going to change anything,¡± Artanna said over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

    Once outside, she carefully hid her hair under her hood and once more checked to make sure her blades slid easily from their sheaths before untying her horse. She stopped when she got to the alley.

    ¡°Vezzam,¡± she drawled. ¡°Come on out. I know you¡¯re here.¡±

    The hireling stepped out of the shadows.

    ¡°Did you know the whole time I was following you?¡± he asked when he got to his commander.

    ¡°Shrain gave you up a long time ago. Don¡¯t be mad at him, though¡ªhe wanted the best, and I was interested to see when you would get tired of following me around.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have an excuse.¡±

    ¡°And I don¡¯t pay you to make excuses. For the first time in a year, you were here at the right time, and that¡¯s all that¡¯s important. We¡¯ll talk about the rest later. In the meantime, we have a problem¡ªare you armed?¡±

    Vezzam drew back his cloak to show the hilt of a sword. There was also a dagger in each boot, not to mention several knives in his belt.

    ¡°Excellent. It¡¯s not far, so let¡¯s get going.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°They came after some of ours.¡± Artanna kicked her horse into a trot.

    ***

    Vazash lived in the port region, which belonged to Tanor. A stench wafted up from the river, a chill breeze cutting straight through their clothing. On the way, Birbo the Beard and part of his squad joined the mercenaries. Yon, a former Highligland scout, was sent on ahead to get the lay of the land. He quickly returned.

    ¡°Five,¡± he whispered to Artanna. ¡°Two on the outside by the door, three more inside.¡±

    The commander nodded.

    ¡°That works. Vezzam and Hank will take the front, Daron will cover you. Don¡¯t be stupid. Fester, Birbo, and I will head through the back door. Yon, you stay with the horses.¡±

    The scout looked at the commander in surprise.

    ¡°Why Daron and not me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m giving the kid one last chance.¡± Artanna turned to the thin, pimply boy. ¡°One more mistake, and you¡¯re out. I can¡¯t deal with you anymore. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    They moved out. Treading carefully, they split up at a darkened intersection¡ªVezzam, Hank, and Daron headed up the street, while Fester, Birbo, and Artanna ducked into a narrow alley. Pretentious citizens liked when the doors to the hovels were out of sight, and so they opened into the alley. It was filthy and stank, with a cesspool at the far end. The only thing breaking the quiet was the barely audible profanity coming from the distant port workers.

    Artanna headed into a narrow passage packed with old barrels and rags, turned left, and squeezed sideways between two sheds. Fester and Birbo stayed right behind her. Finally, she froze near an inconspicuous wooden door leading to a cellar.

    ¡°Here,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll go in first. Birbo, you cover.¡±

    The bearded hireling nodded. The commander pulled hard on the ring to open the cover.

    They made their way carefully down the wooden stairs. Artanna kept a hand in front of her and counted her steps, at the twentieth bumping into another wooden staircase. Freezing after each step, she slowly made her way up.

    Once at the top, Artanna crossed the kitchen and peered around the corner. Vazash was crumpled in a pool of blood near a wooden crate, his head cut open, one arm twisted unnaturally, and the other crushed under his body. Nareza was there, too¡ªa lanky man with unusually light hair was taking her right there on a wooden bench. Her long skirts had been pulled up, her once-cute blue dress was torn at the chest, and her arms dangled limply. Matteo was fueling his passion with wine and the approving hoots of the two Brotherhood thugs. One was an awkward guy with a face pockmarked by smallpox that Artanna knew; the other was a large, dark-haired man with disproportionally large arms that she didn¡¯t.

    The Hundred fighters snuck up to take cover in the shadow on the other side of the door. With a gesture, Artanna assigned the long-armed one to Fester and the pockmarked one to Birbo. She left Matteo for herself.

    Go, she mouthed.

    Fester grinned widely and pulled out his favorite throwing knives. Artanna watched his throw¡ªthe first blade buried itself in his target¡¯s chest. The big guy, his shirt pulled wide, grunted for just the briefest of seconds before falling against the wall and sliding slowly down it, almost as if lost in thought. The pockmarked Brotherhood fighter saw them, opened his mouth to say something, and¡­didn¡¯t have time. Birbo grabbed his blade on the run, leaped over a basket full of rags, and landed right next to him. Artanna smiled¡ªthe Beard was fully capable of taking a man out with a single swing, so she knew the job there was as good as done. And that left the star of the show. She flew over the workbench, grabbed Matteo, and held her blade to his throat.

    ¡°Hey there, my boy. You¡¯re done with her,¡± Artanna said sweetly into his ear. Birbo wiped his short sword on the clothes of his victim. ¡°What do you think of this picture?¡±

    ¡°What¡­¡± the rapist burst out. ¡°Damn it!¡±

    Nareza groaned. Artanna glanced over at her sideways to see blood running down between her legs.

    ¡°So, you like hurting girls, do you? Probably has you all at attention. Okay, tell me this¡ªwho said you could come after one of my people?¡±

    ¡°Go to hell. I¡¯m not telling you anything! And if you hurt me, you¡¯ll pay for it with your life.¡±

    Artanna gave him a hefty slap. He howled, spitting in her face when he regained control of himself. The Hundred commander wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and shrugged.

    ¡°Whatever you say. Hold him, boys. He doesn¡¯t want to talk, so let¡¯s make him sing so high he deafens the nightingales.¡±

    The mercenaries glanced at each other before spreading Matteo out on the workbench next to the bloody Nareza. The latter slid off onto the floor, her eyes met Artanna¡¯s, and the commander nodded her over toward Vazash. Fester pulled a knife out of his boot and pinned Matteo¡¯s palm to the wooden boards. Matteo howled.

    ¡°You won¡¯t get any sympathy from me,¡± the lanky hireling said indifferently before repeating the procedure with his left hand. ¡°I may be the Crazy, but I only touch girls when they let me.¡±

    Someone pounded on the door.

    ¡°It¡¯s Vezzam.¡±

    Birbo pulled the bolt back and let the Vagran in. Vezzam whistled when he looked around, immediately turning to Artanna.

    ¡°It¡¯s bad. One got away¡ªDaron screwed up.¡±

    ¡°Curses.¡± Artanna spat angrily. ¡°He¡¯s off to get help. Okay, we¡¯ll be done here soon, anyway. Beard, how¡¯s Vazash?¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± Birbo sighed. ¡°What a shame, he was a good guy. The girl is alive but hurt.¡±

    Nareza cried quietly, holding her dead father¡¯s head to her chest.

    ¡°Take her to Yon and get to the manor. Rianos will patch up the girl, so wake him up.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Birbo turned to Nareza. ¡°Can you walk, beautiful?¡±

    Nareza nodded and sobbed loudly.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± An almost fatherly tenderness crept suddenly into the hireling¡¯s voice. ¡°Let¡¯s go, sweetie¡ªno need for you to see what¡¯s going to happen here. You can¡¯t help your father, either, so leave him with us. Come on, we¡¯ll go see the healer so he can work his miracles.¡±

    Nareza released Vazash¡¯s lifeless body unwillingly and then let Birbo take her by the shoulders. Continuing to whisper encouragement to her, the bearded fellow walked her away.

    The mercenary woman stepped over to Matteo, who was moaning in pain, and brandished her knife.

    ¡°Who said you could come after Vazash?¡±

    ¡°The girl just caught my eye, that¡¯s all! Don¡¯t touch me, you Vagran bitch, or else¡­¡±

    Artanna grinned.

    ¡°Or what? Decided to play the hero? Not a wise move, my friend¡ªI can cut you down to size pretty quickly. The city is full of juicy young things, but you had to come after the daughter of one of my people. You knew exactly who he was, you knew there would be consequences, and you still came after him. So, who from the Brotherhood promised you protection?¡±

    ¡°You just try touching me! I have friends!¡±

    ¡°Would you care to enlighten me as to which friends, exactly, you have? I would be more than happy to have a discussion with them about everything that happened here.¡±

    Matteo gritted his teeth silently. In response, Artanna just sighed and shook her head.

    ¡°The gods know I wanted to just have a talk with you. Screw you with a pepper, Matteo. Why do you have to be such a moron?¡±

    The Hundred leader dropped his pants and clucked her tongue.

    ¡°You managed to knock that poor girl up with this thing?¡± she laughed. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s better this way. The ladies won¡¯t have anything to miss.¡±

    She laid her dagger blade against his scrotum before looking back up at his face.

    ¡°Your last chance, my dear. Next is me stuffing these sad sacks down your gullet.¡±

    ¡°Chironi!¡± Matteo screeched so loud it was almost as if Artanna had actually gone to work with her knife. ¡°Chironi said I could!¡±

    ¡°Which Chironi?¡± the mercenary asked, her blade staying right where it was.

    ¡°The older one! The older one! Take that knife away, by the gods!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! I swear by the Keeper, I don¡¯t know,¡± Matteo howled. ¡°I just mentioned that I wanted that girl, and he said I could have her. He said there wouldn¡¯t be any problems. That¡¯s all I know! You have to believe me!¡±

    ¡°What a shame,¡± Artanna sighed. ¡°Fester, my sweet, turn this little place into somewhere Arzimat might live.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that, Commander?¡±

    ¡°Burn it to the ground.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I can do that.¡± He smiled mockingly from ear to ear and started pulling burning sticks out of the fire.

    Artanna leaned over to whisper directly into Matteo¡¯s ear.

    ¡°You knew what the consequences would be. I take care of the people who help the Hundred, take responsibility for what happens to them. Vazash was a good guy who looked out for more than the Hundred¡ªand you killed him. Now I¡¯m going to kill you, and if they catch me, I¡¯ll pay the fine. Your family will absolutely find out what you did and live with the shame of that knowledge. Because nobody dares touch my friends.¡±

    Matteo moaned and shook his head. As soon as the fire took hold, Artanna carefully slit his throat before pulling the knives out of his palms and handing them to Fester. The flames were already licking their way down the hallway. The thick smoke made it hard to breathe¡ªthere was plenty of resin lying around the carpenter¡¯s house.

    ¡°Time to go,¡± Artanna said, stepping toward the door. She stopped so suddenly when she got there that Fester almost smacked right into her back.

    ¡°That¡¯s a problem, Commander,¡± he said thoughtfully.

    There was a battle going on in the alley right outside Vazash¡¯s house. Two Brotherhood bodies were tucked neatly behind a small wall, while four more were taking on Vezzam and Hank. Fester jumped in right then; Daron was nowhere to be seen.

    Artanna recognized Piraf. One of Tanor¡¯s squad leaders, he was a thin character wearing an odd-looking hat at a jaunty angle. The short sword with its tastelessly gilded hilt in his hand flashed as he attacked Vezzam.

    ¡°Enough!¡± barked the Vagran woman. The hirelings peered over at her dubiously. ¡°Piraf, please, tell your men to back off.¡±

    The squad leader gestured to his fighters to stand down.

    ¡°Hey there, cutie.¡± A crooked smile bared his few remaining teeth. ¡°What are you doing cutting up my people?¡±

    Artanna stepped over to him, sheathing her sword as she went.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk. First, tell me why your people came after the family living here.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Piraf replied with a shrug. He nodded at one of his fighters. ¡°That one ran up and started yelling about how your people had attacked some of ours.¡±

    ¡°And he didn¡¯t tell you why?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    Artanna snorted. ¡°Well, he should have. Your boys broke into the house of one of my people, killed him, and violated his daughter. We had to step in.¡±

    The fire was starting to break through the small windows in the carpenter¡¯s house.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Piraf said with a shake of his head. ¡°Which of ours were there?¡±

    ¡°Matteo brought four with him. The only one left alive, it looks like, is the one that got away, so you¡¯ll have to ask him what their names were. But that¡¯s not what worries me.¡± Artanna threw a dark look at Piraf. ¡°Tanor and I agreed not to touch each other¡¯s people, and here you are going to town on them. If you¡¯d be so kind, tell the Chironis that if they try something like that again, I¡¯ll break every bone in their body. And if Tanor has anything to say about what happened here today, have him say it at the town hall in the signors¡¯ court. I¡¯ll be happy to admit to the truth and pay the fine.¡±

    Piraf grabbed the kid by the lapels.

    ¡°Is that what happened? Out with it, you fool!¡±

    ¡°Y-yes¡­¡±

    The squad leader reared back and slammed his fist into the fighter¡¯s jaw. The latter collapsed to his knees and crawled away.

    ¡°Let me apologize on behalf of Tanor. Is there anyone left in the family?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll pay them. We can¡¯t bring their breadwinner back, but that will at least be something. And I¡¯ll let Tanor know personally.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Artanna gestured for her people to put away their weapons. ¡°And now, if we¡¯re all good here, we¡¯re going to head out. And you should¡­¡±

    She paused when she saw Piraf¡¯s eyes widen. Spinning around, she barely had time to jump away from Daron as he dashed by her.

    ¡°What got into you?¡±

    ¡°Careful, Commander!¡± yelped the Green as he pushed her to the side. ¡°Arrows!¡±

    Piraf turned around in confusion. Artanna jerked her head up and saw an archer on the roof wearing a Brotherhood patch. But when the Brotherhood squad leader took a step to his right, the archer adjusted his aim.

    He wasn¡¯t shooting at her.

    ¡°Get down!¡± the mercenary woman yelled, leaping toward the squad leader.

    ¡°What?¡±

    A bowstring twanged. Artanna hurled herself through the air, knocking Piraf off his feet. His rakish hat flew off and landed in the dirt. A second later, something burned its way through Artanna¡¯s rear end, a sharp pain lanced up her body, and she let out a scream. Piraf looked at her agonized face.

    ¡°Who¡¯d you rub the wrong way in the Brotherhood, my man?¡± she mumbled quietly. ¡°Not the Chironis, by any chance?¡±

    Somebody¡¯s strong arms grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Her butt burned.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Vezzam said darkly with an unpleasant look at Piraf. ¡°And we won¡¯t catch him on the roofs. I swear, though, he was wearing a Brotherhood patch.¡±

    Piraf got up and glanced over at the arrow jutting out of Artanna¡¯s rear end.

    ¡°It looks like I owe you,¡± he grunted. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to pay you back for that.¡±

    ¡°Stay alive, first,¡± she wheezed. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. Daron!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Commander?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re fired, damn it!¡±

 Chapter 4. Missolen

    Idiot! I¡¯m trying to save her!

    Demos Devaton, the imperial treasurer, dropped his feather pen, let some hair down to cover the scorched side of his face, and stared at his guest. The woman¡¯s head was topped with a conical headpiece, the height of which spoke to her status as a baroness.

    ¡°If I were in your shoes, I would immediately agree to the offer my house is making,¡± Demos said out loud. He gave the woman an appraising gaze. ¡°My brother has good taste, though I can¡¯t say the same of his brains. Your wisdom, on the other hand, I have every confidence in. Give me a yes, Lady Lisetta.¡±

    ¡°My husband¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll survive this, as will my brother¡¯s wife. Everything is ready. When is the bastard showing up?¡±

    Lisetta Tiare jerked when she heard the rough, if accurate phrase.

    ¡°At the beginning of the fall.¡±

    ¡°In that case, you should spend the entire summer far from here. The baron is already in agreement.¡± Demos flashed his pointy teeth into a smile. It ended up crooked as always¡ªsome muscles in his face still hadn¡¯t recovered. ¡°You¡¯ll head off for a cloister and stay there with the Keeper¡¯s servants until the child is born and you¡¯ve regained your strength, at which point you¡¯ll return to the palace and keep everything a secret.¡±

    His even tone seemed to do more to agitate the baroness than his disfigured face. Her eyes dropping to the floor, and she asked a subdued question.

    ¡°What will happen to the baby? What kind of future will it have?¡±

    Demos shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯ll stay in the cloister until it turns seven. The superior has already been given a generous gift. If it¡¯s a girl, she¡¯ll serve the Keeper in Ulfiss or Berk. If the Keeper gives us a boy, the bastard will be turned over to the Order, for example, in Laklan or even Mirvir.¡±

    ¡°Oh, god, Mirvir? But that¡¯s in Highligland¡­¡±

    ¡°The farther, the better for everyone,¡± Demos replied drily. ¡°Help us keep this scandal under wraps, and I promise we¡¯ll take care of the kid.¡±

    ¡°But the church? Is that really the only service you can find for the baby?¡±

    ¡°The bastard is a blot on the reputation of the empire¡¯s greatest house!¡± Demos¡¯ outburst caused the woman to cower back in her chair, and he was forced to regain control of himself. He cut an unpleasant enough figure as it was. His brother¡¯s escapades were getting more dangerous every time, and Demos had less and less time to fix the problems they caused. ¡°You should thank the Keeper for allowing the bastard to live.¡±

    The baroness¡¯ face hardened slightly before she could get a grip on her emotions. Demos appreciated the young woman¡¯s composure.

    ¡°You have my agreement. Will we be permitted to see each other? Will the child know who its parents are?¡±

    Devaton shook his head.

    ¡°With time, the kid will realize that its parents are high-ranking people, and we¡¯ll see what happens them. Start preparing for the trip. My people will escort you to the cloister and make sure you have everything you need. Remember, everything will be okay so long as you don¡¯t say a word.¡±

    ¡°I understand. Goodbye, Your Grace.¡± Lisetta Tiare got up from the chair and bowed slightly. ¡°Thank you for your help.¡±

    She even thanked me. Well, fine, so long as the issue is resolved.

    Demos opened his ledger once more, losing interest in the conversation. His back, knees, and even elbows ached after landing poorly that night when the imperial office burned to the ground along with the emperor¡¯s last will and testament. He¡¯d been forced to save himself by jumping out the window. And ever since the tragedy, he¡¯d had to keep a stiff upper lip in order to make sure the court officials didn¡¯t suspect anything. Allantain, also, hadn¡¯t shown up a single time in the intervening period.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Probably biding his time, the old bastard.

    Skirts swishing, the baroness made her way toward the door, though she squeaked in surprise when it flew open. An out-of-breath secretary flew in.

    ¡°Your Grace!¡± he said with a hurried bow. ¡°The chancellor summoned you. There¡¯s urgent news!¡±

    Speak of the devil.

    Demos put his quill pen down again.

    ¡°What is it this time?¡±

    The secretary glanced at the woman hesitantly. She nodded understandingly and stepped out of the room, leaving the secretary to close the door tightly behind her.

    ¡°Well?¡± The treasurer was losing his patience.

    ¡°The dowager empress¡­ Lady Izara¡­ She¡¯s gone!¡±

    ***

    ¡°Duke of Belter and High Treasurer for His Imperial Highness Demos of House Devaton!¡± the herald announced, and a deathly silence blanketed the reception hall for a few moments.

    Demos caught the looks fixed on him. His job as treasurer meant he was constantly in the palace, though it certainly did nothing to force a social life on him. Still, he understood why everyone was so interested in him right then.

    Look, the Burned Lord himself is out for a stroll. I wonder if they¡¯re imagining how the crown would look on my head or how my head would look on a pike.

    Demos lazily looked around the once again animated reception hall. The large, well-lit space with its two marble arcades along the sides was packed with people. Noting where the chancellor¡¯s servants were, Demos worked his way through the crowd accompanied by his usual Ennian bodyguards. This time, he had a man and a woman, their faces covered by colorful silk scarves that revealed nothing besides their dark and narrow eyes. The pair cleared a path forward for the treasurer, their job made easier by the fact that the nobility treated him as though he were a leper. Demos could taste the anxiety that hung lightly in the air.

    Have these idiots already found something out about Izara? Doubtful. Or could somebody have said something?

    In the five years Demos had served the empire in the capital, he¡¯d seen it all. Almost¡ªhe¡¯d never heard of an empress disappearing from her chambers without a trace.

    Why would Her Grace have left the palace without saying goodbye to her late husband? Well, unless she decided that the same people who destroyed the last will would want to get rid of her, too. But could she have known about that?

    The bodyguards stopped. Allantain¡¯s servant, dressed in black and red livery, came over to Demos.

    ¡°Follow me, Your Grace. The chancellor is expecting you.¡±

    They left the crowded hall by way of a long corridor bathed in light from a dozen torches. Demos felt a pain shoot through his knee¡ªan old injury, one he¡¯d sustained in his youth, told him of an upcoming change in the weather. His head ached again.

    Finally, the servant stopped in front of a massive wooden door with flowers carved into it. He knocked several times, the sound echoing in the mourning silence that blanketed the imperial wing.

    ¡°I know where to go,¡± Demos said quietly when the door cracked open. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Seeing Demos, the guards assigned to the empress¡¯ quarters pulled themselves to attention and pulled the door wide. The Ennians stayed outside.

    Irving Allantain thoughtfully paced the luxuriously furnished room, a scrap of paper clutched in his shaking hands. Golden sunlight streamed down onto his bald, speckled head. Hearing the door creak open, the chancellor turned, and his colorless lips curled into a slim smile.

    ¡°Hi, Demos. Come in.¡±

    Devaton nodded a greeting and stepped closer.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, glancing at the piece of paper.

    ¡°A letter from the empress. A farewell riddle, if you will. I wanted you to see it with your own eyes.¡±

    Demos took the page and read it with brows furrowed.

    ¡°Written by Izara¡¯s own hand,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I intercepted her communications, so I recognize it.¡±

    ¡°Read it!¡± the chancellor said impatiently. ¡°Then, tell me what you think.¡±

    This doesn¡¯t make sense at all. She says she decided to devote herself to the service of the Keeper in the wake of losing her husband, but that¡¯s hard to believe¡ªIzara was never all that devout. And why did she pick the god-forsaken cloister in Ulfiss? That place is a freezing cold pit, and her delicate constitution won¡¯t last long in that kind of climate. She might be just trying to hide from us all. But why Ulfiss when there are safer places?

    Demos handed the letter back to the chancellor when he was done.

    ¡°Izara¡¯s up to something, that¡¯s what I think. If I were in her shoes, I¡¯d run back home to Targos. Definitely not to a cloister in the north of the empire.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Allantain mumbled. ¡°She at least has friends left in Targos. Queen Agala would have brought her sister in and kept her safe¡­¡±

    As long as the two still have a good relationship.

    Demos sank down onto a chair to massage his aching leg.

    ¡°Izara says she decided to become a sister for the Keeper. Noble widows often find solace in the service of god, since that can actually offer them more freedom. But why Ulfiss?¡±

    Irving shrugged his decrepit shoulders.

    ¡°Figure it out. Despite your peaceful work as treasurer, I¡¯m well aware that you have the necessary means to¡­uncover the truth, let¡¯s say.¡±

    That was diplomatic.

    Demos nodded unwillingly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll use them if needed.¡±

    ¡°Do what you have to do, but find Izara and bring her to Missolen. And do it quickly.¡±

    Irving turned around, making it clear that the conversation was over. Devaton left the old man alone with the letter.

    The Ennians hadn¡¯t moved a muscle the entire time he¡¯d be talking with the chancellor.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± Demos said as he hobbled off down the corridor. ¡°Ihraz, send news to Master Archella. I need his people to check into something.¡±

    I¡¯d bet my life all these threads are connected somehow.

 Chapter 5. The free city Givoi

    ¡°Damn it, Rianos! Stop that crap and just get the damn arrow out of me!¡±

    The light-haired southerner with the slave¡¯s brand on his cheek shook his enormous pincers at the mercenary.

    ¡°Stop moving, Artanna.¡±

    ¡°The arrowhead is smooth¡ªit could have been worse.¡±

    ¡°It would have been better if you hadn¡¯t jumped in there,¡± Baby Shrain said in her ear. ¡°Took an arrow, and for an enemy, no less. Use your head!¡±

    Artanna grimaced in pain.

    ¡°Piraf is no enemy. And believe me, we¡¯ll be talking about what happened. In the meantime, my dears, shut up and just¡­get¡­that¡­thing¡­out of me!¡±

    Shrain and Vezzam had asked to visit her in the infirmary for some reason even though Reanos was perfectly capable of getting by on his own. Anyway, the Hundred leader understood why her Second and Third were worried, and their awkward concern was touching. But she still would have preferred being alone with the healer¡ªshe didn¡¯t like showing weakness. Artanna also knew Shrain would read her the riot act, while Vezzam would sit there dramatic and silent as though his world was falling apart, his hopes and dreams coming crashing down all around him. That was the face he¡¯d been born with.

    ¡°As long as you¡¯re here, give me a hand,¡± the healer said. ¡°Vezzam, hold here. Baby, open that vial. And you¡¯d better not even think about moving.

    The last phrase was thrown at Artanna and accompanied by a stern look.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t even if I wanted to, not with Baby holding me like that,¡± muttered Artanna.

    The healer carefully took hold of the broken arrow shaft with his pincers and gave it a swift yank. The smooth arrowhead, without enough time to break off, came out along with the shaft.

    ¡°Arzimat¡¯s hole!¡± Artanna yelped.

    Rianos glanced at his charge reproachfully. The mercenary woman switched to cursing in Vagran and focused on evening out her breath.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with, boys. I still have to go smooth things out with Guiro and the viceroy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re definitely not leaving the infirmary today,¡± the healer said. ¡°That¡¯s out of the question.¡±

    ¡°I have to.¡±

    ¡°If you want, I can talk with Guiro.¡± Shrain scratched his shaved dome thoughtfully and stuck an enormous paw in his belt. ¡°I¡¯m not doing any good here.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t there with Vazash, and Guiro is going to ask how it happened. And Vezzam isn¡¯t the easiest person to talk to.¡± The Hundred leader smiled guiltily when she caught his severe look. ¡°Sorry¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. Talking is your thing, Commander. He¡¯s your beau, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Easy there, my friend. The beau might not appreciate that.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°Be that as it may, we can¡¯t abuse his position.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re putting it off till tomorrow. Doctor¡¯s orders.¡± Rianos dipped a bandage in the goo from the jar Shrain had opened and pressed it against the wound.

    Artanna hissed.

    ¡°Curses, that burns! Shit!¡±

    While Vezzam and Shrain were talking about something, Rianos grabbed the chance to lean over to the Hundred leader.

    ¡°It would be easier if I could use my¡­other abilities on you. Our people do good work with wounds using spells.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the former slave of an Ennian healer, not an Ennian healer yourself. Don¡¯t you think there might be something you didn¡¯t learn before you ran away?¡±

    Rianos sighed deeply, rolled his eyes, and tightened the bandage around the wound. Artanna howled again as she latched her fists onto the headboard.

    ¡°Admit it¡ªyou get off on this,¡± she wheezed when she caught her breath.

    ¡°Not at all. Although, the fact that I¡¯m probably the only one allowed to cause you pain with impunity does sometimes put a smile on my face. It¡¯s nice to be special.¡±

    Artanna turned her head to watch the healer¡¯s sure movements¡ªnothing superfluous, not a single second wasted. Regardless of the locals¡¯ distaste for Ennians, Rianos had somehow managed to quickly endear himself to the troops. It could have turned south quickly, however, if the clerics had found out that he used spells in addition to usual herbs and poultices, which was why Artanna was the only one who knew his secret.

    Another flash of pain pulled the Hundred leader away from her contemplation.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Everything still works on everyone else, just not you.¡± The healer wouldn¡¯t let the topic go as he continued to tighten the bandage. ¡°And I wish I knew why not.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, you¡¯re doing okay as it is. Just get it over with¡ªit still feels the same.¡±

    Rianos started preparing the wrap. Shrain got up and headed toward the door.

    ¡°Chow time¡¯s coming up. I¡¯ll go make sure everything¡¯s ready.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Baby.¡±

    ¡°Want me to bring you some?¡±

    ¡°That would be great, just top it off with some sweet wine.¡±

    Vezzam waited for Baby to leave and then grabbed a mop and started cleaning.

    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Artanna and Rianos asked in unison.

    ¡°So there¡¯s less work for the mender. He did enough work saving your butt in every sense of the word.¡±

    Artanna didn¡¯t have anything to say.

    It was chilly in the infirmary¡¯s large and once well-lit hall. The small, cloudy windowpanes let in nothing but the nighttime darkness. Vizzam mopped away the remains of the dirt tracked in from the street, caked as it was with blood across the uneven floor. The mop dipped into the bucket, the rags were squeezed, and it was swept on its way once more. Bucket. Squeeze. Floor. Bucket. Squeeze. Floor. The sound started getting on Artanna¡¯s nerves even more than the pain in her backside.

    ¡°We¡¯re in deep shit, Rianos.¡±

    ¡°Vezzam¡¯s taking care of that,¡± the healer replied without pulling himself away from his work.

    ¡°Cracking jokes now, are we? The fairs are just a couple months away, and I barely have anything to pay our people with. The Brotherhood is stirring up trouble¡ªno good there. And Guiro¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll think of something, Commander. You always think of something.¡±

    The healer finished wrapping her up and sent the bloody rags into the basket with a practiced toss. Artanna wiggled around in the bed, trying to get comfortable.

    ¡°I can¡¯t get today¡¯s fight out of my head,¡± she said thoughtfully. ¡°There¡¯s apparently a split in the Brotherhood, and Tanor can¡¯t keep his people in line. I took that arrow instead of Piraf, but his people were trying to kill him. Why?¡±

    The healer carefully rotated the vials lined up with different colored liquids inside them. They were all labeled in the whimsical Ennian script, his handwriting perfect. Rianos was pedantic about everything he did. Even if the infirmary was ancient and poorly furnished, it was always neat and tidy. Artanna would have been willing to bet that all the healer wanted right then was to finally clean the blood off his favorite gown.

    ¡°You¡¯ll spend the night in your bed, not in the infirmary,¡± Rianos said. ¡°I¡¯ll check you over tomorrow morning and rebandage the wound.¡±

    Artanna nodded and tried to get up. Vezzam jumped over to help, though it still took a couple tries before she was able to hold herself upright.

    ¡°Thanks, Ri. You got me out of a pickle again.¡±

    Between them, Vizzam and Rianos helped the woman to the door. The healer¡¯s drawn face, disfigured by the brand on his cheek, was haggard. Pouches drooped below his eyes.

    ¡°Try waiting a bit before your next pickle, and maybe even buy a few herbs for balms. I¡¯m all out. These days, everyone in the city seems like they¡¯re getting into more scrapes than usual.¡±

    Artanna frowned, crunching the numbers in her head. She couldn¡¯t turn Rianos down. There was no way she was going to keep him from healing people who couldn¡¯t afford a doctor.

    ¡°So, things really are bad,¡± the Hundred leader smiled sadly. ¡°I¡¯ll find the money for the herbs tomorrow¡ªwe¡¯ll all bite the dust without your remedies. How¡¯s Nareza?¡±

    The healer squinted over at the screen behind which the girl was sleeping.

    ¡°She lost the baby. Lots of bruises, some broken bones, took a hard hit to her head, and lots of cuts down there, but she¡¯ll live. I¡¯m more concerned about her mental health. She wouldn¡¯t let Tanzir get close, for example, just screaming something about blue eyes as soon as she saw him. It took a while to calm her down.¡±

    Artanna cursed under her breath.

    ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s really taking it hard. Matteo, the guy who did that, has blue eyes. Had blue eyes. He won¡¯t be bothering anyone anymore.¡±

    ¡°She needs peace and quiet. I¡¯m going to give her some strong sedative broths, and I¡¯ll see what I can do with my hands, as well,¡± Rianos said with a pointed nod. ¡°I hope that will help.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. As soon as she¡¯s back on her feet, get her out of the city¡ªGivoi doesn¡¯t let you live things like that down. She¡¯s deflowered now, even if it wasn¡¯t her fault. But first I need to figure out what the devil is going on with Tanor¡¯s troops.¡±

    Rianos nodded, closed the door softly behind Artanna to avoid waking Nareza, and leaned back against the damp wood. A gentle whisper came from the corridor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get your herbs, Ri. At least, as long as climbing the stairs doesn¡¯t kill me.¡±

    ***

    Givoi, for the third day in a row, was at less than its hospitable best, showering visitors, the city people, and animals alike with cold water. But that morning, the first crack appeared in the leaden sky to give hope that there was a warmer spell coming soon. The person in the hood couldn¡¯t have cared less about the weather, though the same couldn¡¯t be said about the aromas floating by. The usual miasmas were carried around several quarters by a westerly wind, and the smell of rotten fish followed the lone traveler from the port itself. Passing the warehouses, he sniffed and sighed in relief. The stink was receding, though the bouquet of aromas was joined by the swill of vomit, the constant companion of cheap taverns. As he got closer to the heart of the city, the traveler started catching other scents. He was almost there. His sense of smell had never deceived him, and the pungent fragrance of Highligland¡¯s herbal tonic, an expensive pleasure enjoyed by aristocrats and mercenaries fresh off payday, made him look up and check out a tavern sign. The Wicked Monk, it read. Pulling his hood down lower, he stepped inside.

    His nose was assaulted immediately by the smell of food. The man in the hood looked around¡ªthe oaken furniture was sturdy, nothing that would break easily. The people inside were eating from fine clay dishes, something that told him the owner prioritized making a good impression over durability. Anyway, the fact that he sold the famous Highligland drink meant that the owner could stomach a few dozen broken dishes a day.

    The traveler noted a small table away from the noisy crowd, which was raucously singing an upbeat tune. The mercenaries made an inharmonious, if fervent choir. Finally, the song wrapped up.

    The Vagran stood up against evil at last, taking an arrow right to the ass! Hey!

    Not in any mood to outdo the hubbub, the person in the hood gestured a waitress over. The young girl wearing a surprisingly clean apron slipped between tables to appear next to the new arrival.

    ¡°Welcome, good sir! What can I get for you?¡±

    ¡°What are they singing about, cutie?¡± the guest asked quietly in a southern drawl.

    ¡°Artanna from the Hundred. They say she caught an arrow in an unmentionable area saving a squad leader from an enemy gang.¡± The girl laughed melodiously. ¡°Absurd!¡±

    ¡°Artanna from the Hundred¡­ Interesting. Tell me more.¡±

    ¡°I will, sir, I will. Just tell me what you¡¯d like to eat first.¡±

    The traveler looked up, showing the girl nothing but a smile and a row of even, white teeth.

    ¡°Call me Jert. And I¡¯d like the juiciest gossip you can feed me, my dear,¡± he replied as he placed a silver coin in her apron pocket.

 Chapter 6. Missolen

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry it had to come to this, Lady Evasye.¡±

    The empress¡¯ maid glanced fearfully over at the shadow moving in the corner. She was sitting on an uncomfortable chair and shaking, either from cold or fright, and most likely from both. The only light in the room came from a thick, smoky candle on the table next to the prisoner. The flickering light illuminated a section of rough stonework¡ªshe¡¯d been brought to a dungeon. Lady Evasye trembled uncontrollably. A draft curled unpleasantly around her legs, the tendrils of the cold breeze licking at her feet and ankles. The air coming in from under the closed door smelled of must and despair.

    ¡°For whatever reason, everyone in the palace thinks I¡¯m heartless, though I can assure you, that¡¯s not the case. I¡¯m going to start by giving you a chance to tell me everything you know without the need for any unpleasantries. And please, Odett, be smart about this. Whatever they might say about me, I hate hurting people.¡±

    She recognized the voice. The smooth, emphatically respectful way of speaking, unusual even for an aristocrat, was one she knew well. And the realization of who she was talking to froze Odett Evasye¡¯s blood in her veins.

    ¡°Lord Demos, I swear, I don¡¯t know anything!¡± the woman squeaked. ¡°You already talked to me!¡±

    ¡°And I finished that conversation less than pleased. It strikes me, we have more to discuss.¡±

    ¡°As Gillenai is my witness, I told you everything!¡±

    ¡°Sadly, we both know that¡¯s not entirely the case.¡± The Burned Lord sighed sadly. ¡°Master Devini, would you be so kind as to prepare the instruments we¡¯ll need for a more substantive talk?¡±

    Another shadow detached itself from the wall and slowly stepped over to the table. Odett glanced up at Devini¡¯s face, one completely expressionless, as if carved out of marble, and turned pale. The executioner had decapitated several lower-level aristocrats the previous week after they¡¯d been accused of treason and an attempt to incite rebellion against Count Farui. They¡¯d been dragged to the scaffold, tortured to the point that their limbs were too shattered to walk on their own.

    ¡°Please, have mercy, for the Keeper,¡± Odett whispered when Devini stopped next to her.

    The executioner didn¡¯t even deign to look at the woman, almost as though she wasn¡¯t there. Instead, he quietly took the candle from the table and started lighting the torches on the walls, his finger thoughtfully tracing the cracks in the stone as he went. When he finished with the torches, he tossed some wood in the fireplace. The room grew warmer, though that was scant comfort for the prisoner.

    She looked over at the table. In front of her on a leather case lay small knives with tiny, slender blades. The light from the fire reflected in the brilliantly polished metal. Involuntarily jerking backward, the maid rocked in her chair. A warm hand was placed on her shoulder to keep her from toppling over backward.

    ¡°Have you heard the phrase, ¡®Vagran clemency,¡¯ Lady Evasye?¡± Demos Devaton stepped over with a slight limp and lowered himself onto a stool right across from the prisoner, leaving the two separated by nothing more than the narrow table. ¡°That¡¯s what they call the art, if that¡¯s even the right word for it, of peeling tiny strips of skin off living people. Strips no wider than your little finger. The people of Vag Ran perfected the art a millennium ago in their wars with the Runds, to the point that the entire world heard of their harsh interrogations. Master Devini, who you already know, is an excellent practitioner who always enjoys showing off what he can do. It¡¯s a talent, let me tell you. I¡¯m lucky to have him.¡±

    Odett glanced back and forth between the Burned Lord¡¯s disfigured face and the tools with their sparkling, sharpened blades. No, she wasn¡¯t dreaming. But she¡¯d always been terrified of pain. She imagined the knives slicing into her flesh, peeling the skin back so slowly she felt every moment of agony. Strip by strip, inch by inch. Her breath caught in her throat; her heart pounded in her ears.

    Lady Evasye opened her mouth in an attempt to beg for mercy, but it was right then that she lost consciousness.

    ***

    Overdid it just a bit.

    Demos looked over the maid¡¯s limp body sadly. The only thing keeping Odett Evasye upright was the steel grip of Lahel, one of Demos¡¯ Ennian bodyguards, who was gripping the girl¡¯s shoulders rapaciously.

    ¡°Wake her up,¡± the treasurer said before turning to the executioner. ¡°Master Devini, I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll have to do without your Vagran methods today. The girl can¡¯t take it¡ªyou can see that yourself. We need something ordinary, if just as convincing. I¡¯ll look forward to seeing what you come up with.¡±

    The executioner shrugged, thought for a second, and slipped an iron rod into the fire.

    What imagination! What innovation! Curses. If he¡¯s planning on loosening her tongue with hot iron, I¡¯m the one this whole thing is going to turn torturous for.

    Demos hated fire¡ªwith his whole being, mutilated fingers trembling, more than anything else in the world. The stupid, merciless element had taken his wife, his children, his friends, and even part of himself. And in exchange, all he¡¯d gotten was deformity, weakness, constant pain, and the necessity of hiding the real reason for the tragedy until the end of his days. It was an unequal bargain. Demos turned away and pulled out his pipe, though his attempt to fill it with tobacco just scattered half the stuff across the floor. His hands were shaking.

    Fiera, if the masters are right, and we see each other after death in the Crystal Hall, will you forgive me? Will Korett and Ferran forgive me? I wasn¡¯t just a terrible father and husband; may I be thrice cursed, even if I didn¡¯t know it, I doomed you to your grave.

    Ihraz helpfully handed a match to his master. Demos lit his pipe and forced himself to look at the flames blazing in the fireplace. The logs crackled, the iron rod was getting hotter, and the treasurer had a hard time shaking the memories from the day he lost his family and very nearly died himself.

    Idiot! You flaunted your knowledge of the ancient imperial wise men, you recited works from the ancient imperial poets, you were so proud of your library¡­ But you couldn¡¯t find time to dive into your family tree and realize that you might have inherited magical blood from your Ennian mother! You yourself signed eight death sentences by fire for sorcery. And in the end, you killed everyone you held dear, because you too had the curse.

    It had been five years, but he still heard Fiera¡¯s screams at night¡ªinhuman, chilling, brimming over with pain and despair. Happily, his children didn¡¯t come to him in his dreams, as he couldn¡¯t have watched them die every night. There was no way.

    He clearly remembered bursting into the house engulfed by fire, vainly hoping to save at least someone. From the very beginning, it was an absurd idea, but Demos couldn¡¯t bear standing by while his loved ones died such a horrible death. Fiera gasped for air, rushed around the remains of the wooden hall, cut off from the door. He could see her silhouette through the wall of flames. And she screamed.

    Oh, gods, how she screamed.

    The animal shriek buried itself in his bones. Demos helplessly pulled himself across the floor, blinded by the smoke and nearly deafened by the roaring fire, and couldn¡¯t do anything to help her. Then, the flames got to him.

    If the Keeper, who we all spend so much time worshipping, were so merciful, why would he let such innocent people die? Why did he disfigure me, strip me of peace, but leave me alive, the person responsible for the tragedy? I¡¯m the one whose very existence contradicts the heart of study into the Way. The one with the forbidden power of the accursed. Quite the sense of humor the god has. It¡¯s a good thing father didn¡¯t live to see that day¡ªit would have broken his heart.

    The only contact with fire Demos allowed himself was lighting his pipe and candles. Everything else confused and terrified him. And since that day, not a single person in Belter had been condemned to be burned alive despite the protests of the clergy.

    Although, Allantain somehow found out my secret and has me by the balls.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The treasurer glanced once again at the open scars on his fingers, looked back at the red-hot iron rod¡­

    I hope Lady Evasye is smart enough to just start talking.

    Just then, the maid came to thanks to a bucket of water dumped over her head. She started shaking once again as soon as she caught sight of the instruments of torture, though this time she at least didn¡¯t faint. Demos let out a curl of smoke.

    ¡°Welcome back, Lady Evasye. You seem to have been quite impressed by the Vagran traditions.¡±

    The woman stared at the treasurer. Rivulets of water streamed down from her dark hair, her nightgown was drenched and clinging to her plump but still alluring body, and a puddle was forming between her feet.

    ¡°Ask your questions, Lord Demos. I¡¯ll tell you everything,¡± she said quietly.

    Devaton motioned Ihraz to throw a warm cloak over the maid¡¯s shoulders. Once she was wrapped up, she mouthed a word of thanks.

    ¡°You¡¯ve known the empress since you were little, is that correct?¡± Demos started.

    ¡°Everybody knows that. I was raised in the palace of her sister, Queen Agala.¡±

    ¡°And you were close?¡±

    ¡°As close as friends can be,¡± the maid replied with a nod.

    ¡°In that case, how would you explain Izara¡¯s sudden decision to leave the imperial palace right after her husband died?¡± Demos finished smoking and knocked his pipe empty on the edge of the table. ¡°She supposedly headed off for a cloister, though Her Highness was never known for her piety. Why the abrupt change?¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t find it necessary to explain herself to me.¡±

    Demos narrowed his eyes incredulously.

    ¡°That seems odd, Lady Evasye. You were friends.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing odd about it. Ever since I married a Belterian, she¡¯s been cold toward me.¡±

    ¡°Her Highness lost her trust in you?¡±

    ¡°I think so. Lately, the empress has been very emotional, constantly mentioning how she can¡¯t trust anyone.¡±

    If Izara knew about Uncle Margius¡¯ last will, she had every reason to be worried.

    ¡°She didn¡¯t tell you why that was?¡±

    ¡°No, Lord Demos. Izara closed everyone off and asked me to leave her alone a lot, she was afraid of people following her, and she saw conspiracies everywhere. She even gave orders to replace her taster¡ªshe thought the old one was sent by her enemies.¡±

    Me, not her enemies. We didn¡¯t want to poison her; we just wanted to keep an eye on her.

    Demos rubbed his watering eyes wearily. The night was turning out to be too long, and his migraine was flaring up again.

    ¡°In that case, why don¡¯t you tell me how the empress spent the day before she disappeared?¡± the treasurer said. ¡°What did she do, who did she talk to? Don¡¯t spare me the details.¡±

    The maid pulled the cloak tighter and shifted her feet.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t notice anything out of the ordinary. She woke up at the usual time, washed up. Then, the girls and I helped her get dressed. The empress picked a dress made of dark blue silk that day since she didn¡¯t have anything more befitting her mourning period. Nobody¡¯d thought to prepare for it.¡±

    ¡°Got it. What happened next?¡±

    ¡°We set off together for morning prayers at the palace Shrine. That took more time than usual since the choir had to sing the mourning hymns. Afterward, we headed back to the women¡¯s wing and had breakfast¡ªeggs, bread, cheese with holes, and honey treats with an herb concoction. The empress didn¡¯t go out into the palace that day.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Demos nodded. ¡°What did she do in her quarters?¡±

    ¡°She prayed for a long time. I figured that was normal given what happened¡­¡±

    ¡°Anything else?¡±

    Lady Evasye thoughtfully fingered the silver disk decorated with small sapphires hanging around her neck. Noblewomen interpreted for themselves the religious masters¡¯ preaching on asceticism, turning symbols of belief into demonstrations of wealth.

    ¡°Before lunch, she spent time reading religious books. Then, we had stew¡ª¡±

    ¡°Forget the menu,¡± Devaton cut in irritably. ¡°I know what Izara had. I¡¯m more interested in what she did.¡±

    Because she got rid of my spy in time, three days before she made a break for it. How was Izara able to identify her?

    ¡°The tailor stopped by after lunch to take measurements for mourning dresses. The servants brought lots of cloths¡ªsilk, velvet, brocade, dark laces¡­ That took a good two hours.¡±

    She spent two hours picking out cloth for a dress? Why would she do that if she were leaving the next day for a cloister? Unless she didn¡¯t want to give away the game ahead of time¡­

    ¡°What about after the tailor left?¡±

    ¡°We all went for a walk in the secret garden. The empress didn¡¯t want to see anyone, and we were there for about an hour.¡±

    ¡°Did she talk to anyone in the garden?¡±

    The maid shook her head. ¡°No, she just walked quietly. She picked a bouquet of white flowers and had it placed by the window in her chambers, the one that opens out onto the garden. When we got back, Chancellor Allantain was there, though they talked behind closed doors.¡±

    I know, and I know what they talked about, too¡ªnothing relevant.

    ¡°Next?¡±

    ¡°The evening service at the Shrine followed by dinner. Her Highness had quite a bit to eat, though, as usual, she didn¡¯t drink any wine. Just water. That didn¡¯t seem strange to me, either, since she looked pale and worried. The girls and I just assumed that was because she was in mourning¡­ Afterward, Her Highness spent time alone with her religious books and asked us not to bother her. The other maids and I embroidered the mourning ribbons for the farewell ceremony. And then, in the evening, about two hours before bed, the empress received a visit from Master Tillius.¡±

    Who is that?

    ¡°A cleric visited her?¡± Demos asked.

    How do I not know him?

    ¡°Yes, Your Grace,¡± Odett replied with a nod. ¡°He asked for us to leave them alone and talked with her for about half an hour. After his visit, Her Highness was much more at ease. She even smiled a few times.¡±

    Tillius¡­this is the first time I¡¯m hearing that name.

    ¡°What happened next?¡±

    ¡°Bedtime, the evening preparations. Nothing unusual. And that¡¯s what had us so surprised when we didn¡¯t find the empress in her chambers the next morning. I have no idea how that could have happened! The girls were by the doors; the guards patrol the corridors. Someone had to have noticed her.¡±

    There are ways to temporarily blind people.

    ¡°Did anything disappear along with her?¡±

    ¡°All her clothes are still there. The only things missing are her wool cloak and her miniature Holy Book with the painting by Brother Varmius, the one the late emperor gave her at their wedding. That¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°No money, no jewels?¡±

    ¡°No. I assure you, I¡¯m just as surprised as you are. Of course, the book is very expensive, though I think Her Highness took it as a keepsake rather than to sell it.¡±

    I think I believe Odett. But still, where did that Tillius come from?

    The treasurer cracked his stiff knuckles. His back was tight from sitting on the stool so long, his leg was aching, and he wanted to sleep, or at least get some pashtara to wake him up.

    ¡°Thank you for the information, Lady Evasye. Next time, please don¡¯t make me pull you out of bed and drag you all the way across the palace.¡±

    ¡°I belong to the empire, and I have no secrets from its rulers.¡±

    We¡¯ll see about that. It¡¯s what everyone says at the beginning, before unexpected details come to light that make things very awkward for everyone.

    ¡°You¡¯re free to go for now, Odett. With the empress gone from her worldly life and the palace dismissed, you¡¯ll soon be sent back to your husband in Nior. The guards will escort you there once you¡¯ve paid your respects to the late emperor. For your safety, of course.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very kind of you.¡± Even if the maid was less than thrilled with that pronouncement, she didn¡¯t show it in the slightest. ¡°Thank you, Your Grace. You should come visit our very picturesque corner of the world at some point.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Demos lied as he motioned Ihraz to call the guard.

    In the meantime, we¡¯ll keep an eye on you in case Izara decides to get in touch with an old friend.

    When the maid was gone, the treasurer stood up from the stool, groaned, and hobbled a few steps, massaging his leg. The old wound was particularly sensitive to the weather, to the point that he knew what the temperature was going to be.

    Looks like it¡¯s going to be warmer tomorrow.

    The executioner left with a short bow. Alone with just the two bodyguards, Demos fumbled around in his pocket for a small box.

    Ah, there it is.

    Ever since Demos had gotten to Missolen, he¡¯d made a habit of staying up late, often not sleeping at all. His health had taken a beating for it, too. Things were getting worse with each year he spent in the capital, and he¡¯d been there for five already. Back at the beginning, it took a long time for the burns to heal. The only thing that saved him were the Ennian healers¡¯ potions Lady Eltinia made him take.

    But pashtara was what helped the most, even if Demos realized later that he¡¯d gotten pretty seriously hooked on it. Sedative potions and other drinks didn¡¯t compare to the gray powder smugglers brought directly from the Tirlazan Islands captured by Ennia. The church prohibited it, but Demos couldn¡¯t have cared less about the dogma. Prayers, unlike pashtara, didn¡¯t take away the pain.

    They say overdoing it with this stuff can weaken your mind, bring on blindness, and dull your sense of smell, sometimes even causing strokes and other hemorrhages. But has that ever stopped me before?

    The pashtara helped him, though it was killing him all at the same time. He himself hadn¡¯t noticed how sniffing the powder had become habit. Demos didn¡¯t realize for the longest time how significantly he¡¯d changed under the influence of the narcotic, surrounded as he was by the hostile palace and its constant intrigue. There was no end to the attempts to wrest bits of influence over the scattered lands of the stagnant empire.

    Demos only came face to face with who he¡¯d become when he found himself a ready participant in the capital games, when he realized that he was no longer one of the many figures the nobles bet on. Instead, he was among the crowd placing their bets. A once-foreign game had become his own. And while Demos had spent his first months dabbling in the subtleties of politics in the capital to slake his own interest, one cold evening, when he gave an order to get rid of Count Pirmo, he understood that there was no way back. The carefully planned murder was what told Demos he¡¯d crossed a line.

    Whenever he thought back over everything he¡¯d done throughout the five years he¡¯d spent serving in the palace, Demos couldn¡¯t figure out when exactly he¡¯d gone from being a disconsolate widower to the Burned Lord, a figure casting terror in the hearts of the aristocrats.

    He carefully took a pinch of the light-gray powder, placed it on the back of his hand, and held his breath, slowly bringing his nostril closer before inhaling sharply. Stars flashed in front of his eyes. After blinking, he did the same with his second nostril. Soon, the pain receded.

    But it will be back. It always comes back. The pain is my only constant.

 Chapter 7. The free city Givoi

    The Wicked Monk enjoyed a particular reputation in Givoi. It wasn¡¯t the Bottom, but it also wasn¡¯t among the establishments frequented by the affluent and law-abiding citizenry. The strong Highligland liqueur flowed like water, steam poured out of the kitchen from morning till night, and it was all because Rickety Rinlo, the owner, bet on a target audience who preferred to make and spend their money with ease. There were plenty of people like that in Givoi, and Rinlo had made a fine living for a good ten years already. The income from the tavern had even been enough for him to build a two-story stone guesthouse.

    That evening, the tavern was packed. The owner didn¡¯t notice Artanna walk in at first, though he called out a vociferous greeting when he did see her tousled gray mop.

    ¡°Hey there, Artanna, tired of drinking mercenary wine?¡±

    ¡°Got that right.¡± With a crooked smile, the mercenary stepped over to the bar. ¡°Bitter as all get out. Tricky, too¡ªyou drink it and drink it, feeling fine, but the moment you stand up¡­ Screw it. Give me some of your Highligland good stuff.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s your heroic rump?¡±

    ¡°Hurts, almost like it took an arrow,¡± the Vagran woman replied amiably.

    She glanced around the large room in search of her troops. The lower floor was jammed full of suddenly wealthy rabble, all eager to empty their pockets. The tables in front of them were loaded with expensive drinks and food, with cards and dice in equally plentiful supply. Some guy in the corner banged out a popular Gatson tune on a lute. The upper floor, which was shrouded in tobacco smoke, was for the regulars, and therefore much calmer.

    The table of Hundred fighters was farther away from the partying thieves. The latter, right then, were raising their glasses and giving toasts so loud they drowned out the fledgling musician. Tossing Rickety a small silver coin, Artanna grabbed her flask and headed over to her group. It was a surprising one. Besides the usuals¡ªred-bearded Dachs, Baby Shrain, Fester, Yurgen, and Yon¡ªRianos was sitting at the large oaken table, too. An already-empty cask of ale had been abandoned by one of the benches.

    ¡°What could have gotten so deep under an Ennian¡¯s skin that he stooped to visit a tavern?¡± Artanna asked with a grin.

    Rianos shrugged.

    ¡°I have to get out of the infirmary once in a while. And you aren¡¯t the only one who gets to drink with good people.¡±

    ¡°Right you are, it¡¯s been a long time coming.¡± Artanna pulled a stool over and dropped her flask on the table. Wincing after a particularly out-of-tune chord, she glanced over at the struggling lutenist before looking back at Belingtor. ¡°My ears are about to explode. Cherso, be a dear and show that idiot how it¡¯s done.¡±

    ***

    Jert was off sitting in his favorite nook on the upper floor. It was a good spot¡ªhe had an excellent vantage point from which he could see what was going on below, though he was masked by the shadows on the wall. The local cuisine was as good as ever¡ªthey sure knew how to cook in Givoi. Having eaten his fill, he lazily stirred the fragrant stew and took a pull of weak ale, his eyes wandering over the lower floor. The drink went especially well with the slender strips of dried and spiced beef. It was a pricy snack, but one well worth it.

    Gray smoke drifted up to the ceiling from the ever-present pipes. If it weren¡¯t for the thick cloud getting in his eyes, his spot would have been the perfect perch. He sniffed. The rank smell of cheap tobacco mingled with the ticklishly familiar smell of the Ennian variety. It was expensive, too, judging by the mix. Jert placed his cup carefully on the table to better focus his attention on where the smell was coming from.

    It was right below his balcony, which was interesting.

    He leaned forward and noticed a tall Vagran woman lounging on a bench. She was dressed like a man, she spoke roughly, and she obviously felt comfortable in that kind of spot. Laughing with the rest of the fighters and going to town on a bottle of Highligland liqueur, she was the one smoking the Ennian tobacco.

    Jert was just about positive after all the rumors he¡¯d collected over his few days in Givoi, but he still decided to make sure. Edging his nose out from under the hood, he called the waitress over.

    ¡°Sweetie, who¡¯s that woman down there? It isn¡¯t Artanna from the Hundred, is it?¡±

    ¡°The very same, sir,¡± the girl replied with a polite nod. ¡°Artanna nar Toll. She sometimes stops in here, though lately she¡¯s preferred more respectable company.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Interesting. Bring me some more of your delectable dried meat, my dear. And a pitcher of that same weak ale.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back!¡±

    The waitress headed down to the first floor and hurried into the kitchen. Jert threw his hood back and started studying the group gathered around Artanna nar Toll. His first step was complete¡ªhe¡¯d found her and now knew exactly what she looked like, so she definitely wasn¡¯t going to be slipping away from him in the dirty city. If there was one thing he could be proud of, it was his ability to pick up on little details, and the Hundred leader, it seemed, was a walking pile of them. But there was no point looking her over too carefully right then. There would be time for that later.

    The dark-haired Gatson next to the Hundred leader was playing a sweet melody on a cittern as he sang quietly. He¡¯d even managed to attract an appreciative audience, though, happily, they were refraining from singing along. And that was smart¡ªthere was no point ruining a good song with a drunk chorus.

    The rest of the Hundred fighters just drank, taking breaks to smoke and reminisce about past exploits. Their food was simple, if filling. Most likely, they were watching their wallets, a conjecture that raised questions about the mercenary group¡¯s finances. Anyway, the whole city knew that the Hundred leader had been forced to hand over a tidy sum to the viceroy for a murder in the port quarter. She was lucky to get off with a fine, too. If the victim hadn¡¯t been guilty of a serious crime, Artanna and her rabble would most likely have been kicked out of the city.

    The woman¡¯s retinue didn¡¯t strike Jert as all that interesting until his glance fell on a slender man with thinning hair the color of rotten straw and a poorly removed brand on his cheek. An Ennian and a runaway slave¡ªthere was no doubt about it. It was almost impossible to remove the Ennian sign completely given the telltale scar it left behind. Regardless, the runaway threatened to complicate his plans.

    ¡°Sir, let me go!¡±

    Jert was pulled away from his musings by the waitress¡¯ cry. Down below, the girl, who was loaded down with trays, had several drunk mercenaries surrounding her. But they weren¡¯t from the Hundred. Artanna¡¯s troops bore a black sun with curved, snake-like rays, while the newly confident drunks, judging by their battleax patches, were from Tanor¡¯s Brotherhood. Jert had managed to find a little something out about them, as well.

    The waitress dodged another set of hands, but the lanky character with the wet beard grabbed her by her apron strings. The girl lost her balance, slipped in a puddle of spilled wine, and crashed to the floor with a scream. The trays paused in midair before following her down. Nothing but Belingtor¡¯s cittern playing was left in the sudden silence, and Jert scowled. The pile on the floor included his ale and meat.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, Litti! I¡¯ll pay for everything!¡± one of the girl¡¯s assailants slurred. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you, Litti. For the whole night! Just come on over with us and show us how fresh those buns of yours are.¡±

    The rest of her group burst into drunken laughter. Jert looked over at the Hundred leader in time to see her slowly pull herself up from her table, the look on her face foreboding. A large, clean-shaven guy from her group tugged on her arm, though she waved him away in annoyance and jumped forward so quickly she just about clipped the chandelier with her head.

    ¡°The perfect time to get acquainted,¡± Jert mumbled to himself.

    Throwing off his cloak, he tightened the sling holding his Ennian scimitar, checked the dagger in his belt, and hurried down the stairs.

    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± he boomed out at the drunks from the Brotherhood. He leaped down the final few stairs and landed lightly on the wooden floor. Theatrics never hurt anyone¡ªthe rabble always appreciated it. ¡°This is a classy establishment for classy people, and your behavior is unacceptable. Don¡¯t you think the lady might be owed an apology?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Carefully stepping across the dirty floor, he went over to the waitress, offered her a hand, and helped her up. The girl looked around for a broom, but Jert stopped her and paused next to the table of ruffians.

    ¡°Was I unclear? The lady is waiting.¡±

    The troublemaker fixed puffy eyes on him.

    ¡°Or what, southerner?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all. The only question is whether you¡¯ll be asking her forgiveness with an intact or toothless mouth.¡± He touched the waitress¡¯ shoulder and smiled gently. ¡°Find somewhere to go, sweetie, and tell your boss he¡¯ll be compensated for whatever is about to happen.¡±

    ¡°Compensated immediately, otherwise their leader will hear the whole story.¡±

    Jert turned around when he heard the Hundred leader¡¯s gruff voice. From close up, she seemed even taller, her light gray, almost transparent eyes making for a striking combination when paired with her gray hair. An incongruous bracelet with a blue gem highlighted the unsightly scars on her arms. Artanna nar Toll grinned broadly, flashing gold teeth.

    ¡°These fine young men must be new to the city, otherwise they¡¯d know that the Wicked Monk has some rich traditions. It¡¯s the only damn tavern in all of Givoi where hireling groups don¡¯t get into fights¡ªthat¡¯s the deal. Everybody knows what a stickler Tanor is for agreements, and I¡¯d have to imagine he¡¯d be pretty upset if he heard how his people were ruining the Brotherhood¡¯s reputation.¡± The Vagran woman pulled a bottle out of a sleeping patron¡¯s hands and took a swig. ¡°He has a temper, too. You all wouldn¡¯t want to get on his bad side, would you?¡±

    The tense Brotherhood fighters said nothing. Still, Jert didn¡¯t see a shadow of guilt or shame on their faces.

    ¡°Lady Artanna,¡± he said with a bow. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, southerner.¡± The Hundred leader threw a quick glance in his direction before immediately losing interest. ¡°Anyway, this lunk is right. Litti is expecting an apology, so you¡¯re welcome to begin.¡±

    The Hundred fighters behind her stood up, faces impassive, hands on their weapons, eyes narrowed attentively. Ready for orders, their muscles were tensed, if still under control. Belingtor handed the Ennian slave his cittern and reached for his dagger so casually that he might have been looking to pick his teeth with it.

    ¡°You have until this bottle of swill is empty,¡± Artanna said. ¡°After that, you have only yourselves to blame.¡±

    The liqueur splashed around right at the bottom. Jert scratched his chin and sighed¡ªhe¡¯d almost gotten to her. A little more, and¡ª

    Something whistled right past his ear and smashed against the wall. Judging by the sound, it was a clay saucer. Jert leaped forward, grabbed the Hundred leader by the arm, and pulled her behind the bar.

    ¡°The old ways are dying!¡± One of the waitress¡¯ assailants leaped onto the table, kicked over a pot of uneaten food, and threw his arms wide. ¡°Everything¡¯s about to change! You¡¯ll see for yourselves soon enough!¡±

    ¡°Damn it,¡± the Vagran spat, peeking cautiously out from behind their cover and ducking right back when a cup very nearly smacked her in the face. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me again.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, old habit. I could¡¯ve told you they weren¡¯t going to apologize,¡± Jert replied. ¡°Want me to kill them?¡±

    Artanna nar Toll stared at him in shock.

    ¡°You looking for a quick trip to the executioner¡¯s block?¡±

    ¡°I have trouble turning a blind eye when someone¡¯s giving a cute girl a hard time.¡±

    ¡°Get a grip¡ªthere are plenty of people here who can stand up for Litti¡¯s honor, and the local laws are tough on foreigners, so just keep your head down.¡± The Vagran crawled backward, leaned up against the door jamb, and waved at her largest guy. ¡°Baby, send Tanor a message!¡±

    ¡°Yon¡¯s already on his way,¡± came the answer. ¡°Should we roll these guys up in the meantime?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just don¡¯t overdo it.¡±

    ¡°If you break a single bench, I¡¯ll have your necks!¡± Rickety roared from behind the bar. ¡°All of them!¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on, Rinlo,¡± Fester said with a grin. ¡°It¡¯s like you don¡¯t know us at all! We¡¯re going to be as gentle as a summer breeze.¡±

    Artanna exchanged signs with her fighters before turning to Jert.

    ¡°If you want to help, keep an eye on the girl and the owner.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say, Commander.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your commander.¡±

    ¡°Not yet, anyway.¡±

    The Hundred leader just snorted as she crouched and slipped into the main hall.

    Jert looked around. Litti was cowering in a corner under a cabinet and whimpering in fear¡ªapparently, there really weren¡¯t that many fights at the tavern. With that kind of gentle and feminine disposition, she needed to find a quieter job. Rinlo was groaning next to her. The clasps on his wooden leg had come loose, and the tavern owner was trying to reattach them with shaking fingers.

    Jert crawled over, rummaged around in a pocket, and pulled out a small purse.

    ¡°Here, Rickety,¡± he said, handing the purse to the owner. ¡°To make up for the day¡¯s losses.¡±

    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you the fat cat. To what do I owe your generosity?¡±

    ¡°Put a good word in for me with Artanna if she asks.¡±

    Rinlo looked dubiously at Jert, weighed the purse in his hand, and grunted.

    ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. And keep this between us.¡±

    ¡°Tavern owners don¡¯t make it too long if they can¡¯t keep a secret.¡± Rickety was almost hurt. ¡°And I¡¯ve had mine for twelve years now.¡±

    The noise coming from the main room picked up. Jert picked out yells, dull thuds, creaking wood, breaking clay dishware, and clinking glass. The fight lasted for about a minute before quieting down.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± he said before crawling out to see what was going on.

    They had indeed broken a bench. They¡¯d even overturned a table. Dishes still piled with food strewed the floor, glasses and pitchers rolled lazily around on the boards, most not involved in the fight were crouched up against the walls, and a few people had opted to push their way out the door. The three troublemakers had been taken down by Artanna¡¯s men. Their arms behind their back, their faces were being shoved into the dirt. Sitting and playing a fun piece on his cittern atop one of the mercenaries, the handsy one, was Belingtor. The Hundred leader was helping her troops move the table back where it had been.

    ¡°Well done,¡± Jert said with a whistle.

    Blackened on the floor, he saw a Brotherhood emblem¡ªit must have gotten torn off someone in the scuffle. He crouched down, pretended to adjust his boot, and surreptitiously slipped it into his pocket. It was the kind of thing it doesn¡¯t hurt to have your hands on.

    ¡°Rinlo, Litti, you can come out now,¡± boomed Baby Shrain, kicking one of the Brotherhood boys lying on the floor. ¡°Tanor¡¯s troops are going to come pick these guys up soon, and this place could use a cleanup.¡±

    The waitress grabbed her broom and got to work sweeping the clay shards, pieces of glass, and food into a pile. She worked with such fervor, in fact, that it almost looked like her life depended on it. Rinlo ambled over to the middle of the room, looked around, jabbed his wooden leg at one of the troublemakers, and bent over him.

    ¡°If I see you here again, you won¡¯t make it out alive.¡± He turned to the rest of the crowd. ¡°We¡¯re closed! Pay your bills, finish your drinks, and get out of here. Get out!¡±

    Jert opened the shutters to let in the night chill. The stuffy, smoky room had his head spinning. Artanna shook a bottle, sighed in disappointment when she saw how much of the liqueur was left on the bottom, and held it out to the southerner.

    ¡°Want some?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Your accent really is from the south. Where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Ennia.¡± He polished off the drink and found it was all he could do not to spit it out. ¡°What¡¯s in that stuff? Brutal!¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t even tried Rundian fire water yet. That stuff will melt meat right off the bone,¡± the mercenary replied with a grin. Jert couldn¡¯t help but notice, however, that her eyes stayed serious. ¡°I¡¯ve seen my share of Ennians, but you don¡¯t look like any of them. An imperial face, hair like copper, and much taller than the southerners. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Jert. My parents are from Kanedan.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a ways from home, Jert the Ennian. What are you doing in Givoi?¡±

    He handed the bottle back to Artanna. ¡°Looking for work. I¡¯d like to join your Hundred.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hiring.¡±

    ¡°When you hear what I can do, you¡¯ll send me a personal invitation and throw in some salary bonuses for good measure.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bet anything you want that you¡¯ll change your mind in a couple days.¡±

    Rinlo interrupted them¡ªhe was calling the Hundred leader over. She headed over to the bar, though Jert could still hear pieces of the conversation.

    ¡°Leave Belingtor and get as far away from here as you can,¡± Rickety said quietly. ¡°You and Tanor really shouldn¡¯t be crossing paths right now.¡±

    Artanna leaned over to him.

    ¡°Do you know something?¡±

    ¡°Believe my gut feeling. Pops has something going on, not something anyone is talking about, but something everyone¡¯s hinting at. I¡¯d like to hand these guys over to him myself to get out in front of everything. And we¡¯ll take care of compensation¡ªTanor¡¯s a man of his word.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll be okay?¡±

    ¡°Your Gatson won¡¯t let them get up. I¡¯ve seen him just about strangle a card shark with a string, and Tanor has a soft spot for him, as well. He likes good music.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± Artanna said with a nod. ¡°But if anything happens¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send word immediately.¡± Rinlo looked over at Jert. ¡°Hey, by the way, you should take a look at the southerner. He¡¯s a bit too interested in you. There¡¯s something there.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Jert flashed his teeth. Whatever it was Rickety said didn¡¯t matter, and he now knew why the tavern had been around so long. The owner made friends with the people who mattered.

    The Hundred leader threw up her arms and snapped her fingers, grabbing her group¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Guys, Rinlo has it from here, and we don¡¯t need to get in the way of the cleanup. Cherso, you¡¯re going to stay and make sure our unfortunate friends find their way to Tanor in one piece.¡±

    ¡°Me again?¡± the Gatson drawled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t start that.¡±

    ¡°Got it, Commander.¡±

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go.¡± Artanna kicked open the door and hurried her mercenaries through it. Jert left with them.

    ¡°See you, Artanna,¡± he said, though the Hundred leader didn¡¯t even turn around.

    When the mercenaries got far enough away, Jert smiled and slipped his hand into his pocket. The silver bracelet flashed faintly as soon as he opened his hand. It was a simple, if artfully made piece of jewelry set with a semi-transparent blue gem. The Vagran¡¯s only valuable, Jert had been able to slip it right off her arm in the middle of the fight. The Ennian touched the gem and its uneven setting gingerly. Everything was going well enough. It was an improvised move, of course, since he hadn¡¯t had enough information on the Hundred leader¡¯s group, but that was okay.

    He pulled a rag out of his pocket and wrapped the bracelet up carefully. Soon, Jert planned to return it to its owner, and Artanna nar Toll would be an idiot not to accept a thief as good as him into the Hundred.

    He looked up, feeling someone¡¯s heavy gaze on him, and met the eyes of the runaway Ennian slave. The slave froze, looked his fellow countryman over with horror, and then headed quickly after the Hundred leader. Jert thoughtfully watched him go. That kind of confusion doesn¡¯t just grab you willy-nilly¡ªyou need to have experienced fear like it once in order to see it coming.

    The runaway either realized or could guess who he was. Either way, that threatened to bring his whole plan crashing down.

 Chapter 8. Missolen

    Missolen is a Rikenaar word that means ¡°white city¡±. Tallonius the Great, founder of the Tallonid dynasty, ordered the beginning of the new empire marked by the erection of a new capital. As fate would have it, however, Tallonius himself did not live to see even the first completed palace, leaving the cares of city-building to his descendants. In Demos¡¯ opinion, they did a pretty good job. Missolen was the greatest city in the empire, at least, of all the cities he¡¯d been to. Demos especially appreciated the perfectly designed grid of straight, wide streets, cozy alleys, and stone houses lost in their gardens. The whole thing made for a delightful evening stroll. He saw meaning everywhere he went, a great plan that was missing in the other ancient cities. And the abundance of white stone made Missolen light no matter the time of year. It was the kind of place that made you want to breathe, the kind of place you want to live in.

    At least, until you find yourself in the slums. They¡¯re the same everywhere.

    The White Shrine bell tower was ringing out unbearably. The wide streets were starting to fill with busy people shouting in all the different imperial dialects, though Demos¡¯ personal guard, as always, kept their mouth shut. Ihraz was a tall, swarthy Ennian with a scimitar and a pair of daggers in his belt. He was a step behind the duke, his black eyes scanning the passers-by as he moved smoothly and calmly. Lahel was to Demos¡¯ left. Both bodyguards had their faces covered by colorful silk scarves.

    Despite the protests of his mother, Demos preferred moving around the city on foot. It perked him up, loosened the muscles in his bad leg, and gave him time to think. There was plenty to ponder about that morning, too. For example, he¡¯d found out that Gregor Voldhard of Highligland had arrived in the capital to pay his last respects to his uncle and attend the Council. The young lord of Ellisdor was Demos¡¯ cousin on his father¡¯s side, though he didn¡¯t stop by, the custom for relatives.

    Managed to stir up a scandal without saying a word. What¡¯s going to happen when you open your mouth, my dear cousin?

    ¡°Where is Lord Gregor staying?¡± Demos asked Ihraz. ¡°The palace kindly offered him and his retinue quarters, but he declined.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°At Enrige the Gatson¡¯s residence, Master.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Enrige betrothed his son to Gregor¡¯s sister. They say Lady Rhinhilda inherited her mother¡¯s beauty and her father¡¯s personality.¡±

    In other words, she¡¯s as terrifying as heavenly punishment and as direct as an Osvendian woodcutter. I wonder if Gregor asked for their hospitality or if the Gatsons insisted.

    The sunlight glistened on the bright cobblestones paving the street that stretched from the enormous palace complex to Eclusum. The climb started taking its toll, while the buildings peeking out from behind the curbs and gardens got larger and more impressive¡ªthat was where the aristocrats and rich guilds lived. Pulling his glance away from the intricate stained glass, Demos turned his head toward the imperial gardens. The park was fragrant and invitingly quiet.

    The treasurer jumped when a stooped beggar jumped out to block his way.

    ¡°By the grace of the Keeper, spare me a couple azu,¡± the tramp boomed. ¡°I want to buy a black wax candle and pray for the soul of the emperor in Gillenai chapel, the one down the river.¡±

    Lahel was about to shove him out of the road when Ihraz motioned for her to stop.

    ¡°He¡¯s one of mine. Give him a duppa.¡±

    The woman pulled a small silver coin out of her purse without taking her eyes off the beggar.

    ¡°Master Archella sends his regards,¡± the latter said to the duke. ¡°His people are going to stop by for a visit soon! And in the meantime, a bit of news.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡±

    The beggar smiled, baring rotten teeth.

    ¡°Word for word, here it is: the one you¡¯re looking for isn¡¯t at that location. That¡¯s all I was told to say.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the duke nodded. ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    The beggar deftly caught the coin Lahel tossed him, bowed, and backed into an alley. Demos looked over at Ihraz. He shrugged.

    So, Izara, or Sister Tanal, as she¡¯s calling herself now, isn¡¯t at the monastery she claimed she ran away to. But who could be hiding her? The maids have all been questioned¡ªthey don¡¯t know anything. The servants didn¡¯t tell us anything new even when we tortured them. And the empress didn¡¯t have any friends in the palace, that¡¯s for sure. Still, she was able to disappear. Someone did such a good job helping her that even I¡¯m in the dark. But if she isn¡¯t at the monastery, why are even the clergy sure she¡¯s there? Sister Tanal may not even exist at all. And, of course, we can¡¯t rule out that Izara could long since be fish bait in one of the Uli¡¯s tributaries.

    Demos took his time getting to the palace gates. His servants didn¡¯t say a word.

 Chapter 9. The free city Givoi

    It was only several nights later that Rianos was able to close his eyes¡ªall he could think about was his encounter with Jert at the tavern. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he¡¯d seen him before.

    They probably hadn¡¯t crossed paths in Givoi. The only Ennians there were traders and their attendants, and Jert didn¡¯t look like one or the other. The ship Rianos took away from Sifares didn¡¯t have any copper-headed mercenaries on it, either. That left Sifares itself.

    Rianos could feel something amiss. A sense of foreboding ate away at him, sank deep in his gut, twisted his stomach in knots. The runaway¡¯s intuition rarely betrayed him, and he was used to trusting it¡ªhis entire life had been spent expecting retaliation for his audacious feat. The masters paid slave hunters well to return their property. For that kind of money, the hunters were willing to pay a visit to the Accursed himself in the furnace. And Jert the Ennian did, indeed, look like a slave hunter¡ªthe imperial visage that didn¡¯t draw attention in those parts coupled with the training as a fighter. He had plenty of money, too, which made it strange that he was so eager to join the Hundred. Artanna nar Toll didn¡¯t pay much, though the work tended to be quiet.

    The healer decided not to share his suspicions with his commander for the time being. Artanna had been attracting too much attention from the authorities as it was, and he had no desire to spook the slave hunter, if that was who Jert really was. That would have just forced him to lie low for a while or send someone stealthier. Of course, accusing an honest man without evidence would have been awkward, as well. Rianos decided to get to work looking for that evidence on his own.

    He noticed Jert when he was leaving the herbalist¡¯s shop. The Ennian was walking along the busy street in the direction of the market square, the weather dark and cold, but at least dry. After grabbing his basket, the healer threw a hood over his head and set off in pursuit. He wasn¡¯t going to make the evening meal as it was, and dinner at the Wicked Monk was as good a reason as any to spend some more time observing the Ennian.

    Rianos was no spy, but years spent on the run had taught him how to hide and blend in with a crowd. Jert was making no such effort. He was walking briskly, his shoulders thrown back, a smile flashed at all the passing girls, and a copper coin tossed to a beggar woman. He even paused at a flower stall to pick out a nice bouquet he then gave to a large-chested prostitute peeking out of one of the brothel windows. It was as if he had just come to the city for a good time.

    On the other hand, he could have been waiting for something, though that begged the question¡ªwaiting for what?

    ¡°Hey, where do you think you¡¯re going?¡±

    At just the last second, Rianos jumped back to avoid getting trampled by a horse. His basket banged against a nearby wall; some woman in a colorful dress hissed something at him in Gatson.

    Keeping his distance while not losing his target turned out to be tricky. Rianos had to go against the flow of people, as most in the city were hurrying home. Shopkeepers were wrapping up their goods, while porters kept banging into him and threatening to scatter the contents of his basket. Still, he was lucky¡ªJert cut a distinct figure and was going nowhere in a hurry. Once he got to the market square, the Ennian turned into an adjacent street and headed toward the port quarter via the foundries. The healer picked up his pace to make sure he didn¡¯t lose him in the labyrinthine alleys. It wasn¡¯t the nicest area, and Rianos had no idea what Jert could want there, especially with nightfall approaching.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    He was starting to enjoy the thrill of the chase¡ªfor the first time in his life, he was the hunter instead of the hunted. His heart pounded, blood pumped into his legs, and Rianos crouched, hound-like, ready to run. Without really knowing where the feeling was coming from, he realized that he was identifying with the spies Artanna¡¯s warriors always talked about. They were people prepared to face all kinds of danger so long as they found the valuable information they were looking for.

    Slipping along the walls, hiding behind barrels and piles of trash, and getting bogged down in the mud, he kept adjusting his hood to keep his eyes fixed on the back of the person who threatened to ruin his life. To his surprise, Rianos caught himself thinking that if Jert really were a slave hunter, he would do whatever he had to in order to ensure that Jert returned emptyhanded.

    A raven cawed from a rooftop. Rianos turned to look for the bird and realized it had gotten dark¡ªit was too expensive to keep the lanterns lit where he was. Even so, he kept going, squinting to see ahead of him. He stared down the gloomy alley. The Ennian was nowhere to be seen. Figuring he¡¯d turned a corner, the healer also remembered that there was an underground den somewhere nearby that sold pashtara. He grunted. Jert, apparently, was looking to have some fun with the forbidden powder.

    The basket was getting in the way. Leaving it next to a wall and making a mental note of the spot, he pressed onward. But just as he reached the turn, a shadow slipped out from behind a corner. Rianos was pulled into the narrow alleyway and thrown up against the wall before he knew what was happening. He coughed.

    ¡°Why are you following me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out who you are.¡±

    ¡°I already introduced myself to your mistress.¡±

    ¡°Artanna isn¡¯t my mistress. She¡¯s my commander.¡±

    Rianos jerked, but the Ennian¡¯s grip was tight.

    ¡°Stop it.¡± Jert turned the healer¡¯s disfigured cheek to the light. ¡°Judging by the brand, you belonged to the Ufhag family before you ran away. My sympathies¡ªthey¡¯re some nasty people. Especially the grandfather. The old bastard went completely crazy looking for immortality.¡±

    ¡°You know quite a bit about my old masters.¡±

    ¡°I know a lot about everyone.¡±

    Rianos peered closer into his new acquaintance¡¯s face. He was an imperial, pure-blooded, even from somewhere farther north than Beltera. Kanedan or Osvendis. His face was chiseled, if covered in stubble. Tired eyes were set in a network of wrinkles, and he looked between thirty and thirty-five.

    The healer tried to imagine what he might have looked like ten years before.

    Suddenly, it hit him.

    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re¡­you¡¯re¡­ You¡¯re really one of them? I saw you¡ªyou came when they¡­ Oh, merciful god¡­¡±

    Panic. He hated that feeling. It was a kind of fear that froze his legs and arms, keeping him from moving, even from blinking. Sticky sweat broke out on his back; icy fingers felt around under his ribs.

    His inner voice, the one that had kept him out of danger for years, the one he owe his survival to, was screaming, shouting, begging him to run. But he couldn¡¯t. All he could do was stare into the sad, tired, dead eyes of Jert the Ennian. He couldn¡¯t even force himself to shout for help.

    ¡°Good memory,¡± Jert replied calmly. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering if you¡¯d remember me or not.¡±

    ***

    When the dagger¡¯s long blade slipped easily through the fabric of his tunic and buried itself in Rianos¡¯ chest, all he did was gasp weakly. There was no cry, no plea for help, not even a blink. The blow was clean and right to the heart. Something gurgled in Rianos¡¯ throat, and his body slowly sagged. Bewilderment froze in his eyes.

    ¡°Running away is punishable by death for slaves, and all Ennians are required to carry out that punishment by order of the Magistrate,¡± Jert hissed. ¡°But if that were all, I would have let you go and sworn to keep your secret. The problem is that you know too much.¡±

    He returned his knife to his sheath, carefully gripped the healer¡¯s torso, and dragged him into a space between two houses that wasn¡¯t even big enough for the two of them. The spot was dark and sparsely populated¡ªit would be morning before the body was found.

    All that was left were a few final strokes. Jert pulled his dagger out once more.</a>

 Chapter 10. Missolen

    Why all the commotion for one dead guy?

    The funeral procession was moving catastrophically slowly. Demos had to keep glancing down, treading carefully to avoid the myriad white flowers scattered on the ground. The imperial dynasty¡¯s standard was being carried by two members of the honor guard, their faces unintelligent. Demos remembered them. No matter how prestigious the guard was, serving in the quiet palace did nothing to improve their skill in battle.

    On the other hand, their livers get plenty of work.

    Behind the guards was a procession of clergy, all enveloped in white clothing embroidered with silver. The songs the masters and friars were singing praised the Keeper, his last son Gillenai, and divine love, promising eternal life to the righteous.

    The casket with the emperor¡¯s body was set on a wagon decorated richly with black cloth and harnessed to eight black horses. Drowning in a sea of fragrant flowers that still could not conceal the smell of the embalming ointments, Margius looked tranquil and at peace. Demos envied him just as much as he envied the runaway empress¡ªshe got to skip the ceremony entirely.

    Eyes watered, under assault from the burnished armor of the Order¡¯s brother protectors. The warrior monks¡ªon horseback and on foot, armed with spears, swords, shields, halberds, and maces¡ªcarried clerical banners and echoed their prayers. Demos fixed his glance on one of the brother protectors as the latter stepped unhurriedly past the treasurer, his eyes focused straight ahead.

    Not even a hello? Where are your manners, Renar? Or did you forget that we¡¯re related now that you¡¯re a knight in the Order? Still mad at the family, brother?

    Demos and Gregor Voldhard, both close relatives of the late emperor, were first in line on either side of the wagon. Gregor¡¯s face was focused, but that was all. The Duke of Highligland, incidentally, had it even worse than Demos¡ªhis polished ceremonial armor weighed much more than the treasurer¡¯s thin tunic and light pants.

    Shining armor, a handsome figure¡­all the result of a good bit of time spent in the Order, I imagine? Barely here in the capital, you¡¯re already showing off your warrior side. Is that a hint of a threat or do they wear armor in Highligland even in peacetime?

    Chancellor Irving Allantain was right behind Demos. The procession was difficult for the old man, but the Duke of Osvendis was holding steady. His overweight son Bryce was the picture of courtesy as he offered his assistance. Tired of his civility, however, the frail chancellor shushed his heir, who dejectedly found a place in the crowd.

    Interesting, I wonder how sticky Irving¡¯s ass is, what with his son kissing it all the time.

    A few steps away from Gregor, glorying in the impression they made, strode the rulers of Gatson. King Enrige was in fine form¡ªhis beard was pomaded, his crown golden and inlaid with shining gems, his train brocaded. Demos couldn¡¯t help but think the Gatsons might have confused the funeral for a wedding. Princess Vittoria, as well, was not to be outdone by her father. She was just as fabulously dressed, her head just as proudly thrown back. Demos noted the woman¡¯s vivacious beauty, one which was presumably the work of a good dozen maids.

    Looks like Gatson is maneuvering for a well-placed marriage with someone from the eastern side of the continent. Why else would Enrige have brought Vittoria? Not to say goodbye to Margius, that¡¯s for sure.

    The rest of the Small Council was there, too, and behind them a long row of lesser nobles, representatives of neighboring realms, clergy, affluent city people, and honored guests of the capital. Somewhere in the back was Lady Eltinia, Demos¡¯ mother, who had wanted to spend the procession in talks with the emissaries from Ennia. Demos caught a glimpse of the golden-haired allies from Latandal a bit further off. Ten men and women dressed in their particular island style moved with impeccable grace. On the other hand, Lady Irital, the bearer of the Mark of Gintare, wasn¡¯t among them.

    I¡¯m surprised the lady ambassador didn¡¯t come to the capital. Why is that?

    But Demos devoted most of his attention to the representatives of Queen Agala from Targos. The emissaries mixed with the Ennians, discussing something hotly with the southerners and occasionally nodding in the direction of the chancellor.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Rundkar and Vag Ran, needless to say, had not sent emissaries.

    I can just imagine how surprised Allantain would be to see a delegation of axe-waving barbarians or arrogant, gray-haired Vagrans. At least, they would have made the day interesting.

    The closer they got to the square in front of the Great Shrine, the narrower the corridor for the procession to make its way through got¡ªthousands of people were pouring onto the streets. The city people shouted, prayed, and sang hymns. Demos tore himself away from the religious ecstasy on their faces to look over at Irving, who was breathing down his neck. Happily, the chancellor¡¯s son was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Just as I imagined, the empress isn¡¯t at the cloister,¡± the treasurer said, turning around.

    ¡°You just confirmed our guess.¡± There was so much noise in the air that Demos had to read his lips. ¡°What¡¯s your next step?¡±

    ¡°How long can you keep what happened a secret from the Targosians?¡±

    ¡°Quite a while. But rumors travel fast when they sense something¡¯s wrong, so keep looking.¡±

    ¡°I do have one idea.¡±

    ¡°Just one, Lord Demos?¡± the chancellor grinned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like you.¡±

    The Burned Lord ignored the sarcasm.

    ¡°You know very well how tightly guarded the palace is.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re wondering who could have gotten past the guards?¡±

    Demos nodded. ¡°Exactly. The only thing that comes to mind is Master Archella¡¯s guild¡­¡±

    ¡°But Archella has been working for us for a long time now. You want to know who else has people that skilled?¡±

    ¡°There are the Ennians from Rex Gerifas, but their guild doesn¡¯t work with outsiders. Just Ennians.¡±

    Allantain squinted.

    ¡°Check out both options, though I¡¯d recommend looking into a third.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± Devaton whispered.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you that the clergy is lying to us?¡±

    That stopped bothering me long ago.

    ¡°I already asked myself that question, and I don¡¯t see the logic,¡± Demos replied. ¡°It¡¯s possible the capital masters themselves don¡¯t know that Izara isn¡¯t where she¡¯s supposed to be. Unless¡­¡±

    ¡°Check that out,¡± Allantain said shortly. Catching a glimpse of his son coming over, he fell back a few steps.

    Demos looked over at the casket thoughtfully.

    Getting a steer pregnant is simpler than getting something out of the clergy when they don¡¯t want to talk, even when my brother is one of the Keeper¡¯s servants.

    ***

    The enormous square in front of the temple was packed with people. The white-stone cathedral, which was decorated with a multitude of slender spires, delicate sculptures, and lancet windows with gorgeous stained glace, inspired awe and drew attention to the trivial corner people take up in an enormous world. And the magnificent temple, in turn, was just one insignificant part of Eclusum, the domain of Great Master Ladarius. It was there that the empire¡¯s rulers were coronated, married, and sent off on their final journey. Demos sighed in relief.

    We¡¯re almost done.

    The gentry and important visitors were standing behind the masters in strict hierarchical order, with the crowd taking up the rest of the space in the square. The farewell ritual had already begun, though the city people were still arriving in hopes of seeing the imperial pyre.

    Great Master Ladarius, garbed in more silver than cloth, was offering long prayers. The casket holding the late emperor was on a tall platform loaded with brushwood. Once the songs were done, Ladarius glanced at Demos and nodded, inviting the relatives to bid farewell to Margius. The treasurer turned to Gregor.

    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll have to go together.¡±

    ¡°It would be an honor.¡± The Highliglander smiled and helped his cousin up onto the platform.

    Seeing the dukes together, the crowd broke into cheers. Flowers flew, shouts and prayers were raised, and all honor was given to the empire and the late emperor.

    To be fair, that young Voldhard made quite the entrance in the castle.

    Demos took a new torch from the great master, though it was something of a task for him. Down below, the monks awaited the signal to light the different sides of the wooden construction.

    Two hands, both burned and tucked into leather gloves, gripped the torch¡¯s long shaft. The flame made contact with the straw and brushwood surrounding Margius and his casket, small tongues of fire licking at the dry wood and gaining strength. His eyes on the fire, Demos felt the tension build inside him.

    I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!

    ¡°Time to go,¡± he said simply.

    The cousins stepped down gingerly. Ladarius gave the monks the signal to light the fire from below, and a few seconds later the roaring flames engulfed the casket. The crowd murmured and called out goodbyes. The clerics once again joined in song, drowning out even the logs crackling in the fire.

    Gregor touched his cousin lightly on the shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful for the honor, Lord Demos, and happy to make your acquaintance.¡±

    ¡°As am I,¡± the treasurer nodded. ¡°I only wish it had happened a few days ago in the palace.¡±

    Voldhard smiled disarmingly.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for that, as well, but I couldn¡¯t turn down Enrige the Gatson himself. My sister, you understand¡­ If your invitation is still open, I would be happy to visit your house when it¡¯s convenient.¡±

    When it¡¯s convenient¡­ Insolence, my boy. Well, you have only yourself to blame¡ªthe Keeper my witness, I just wanted what was best.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Demos stared, unblinking, into the fire. Voldhard pulled his gaze away from it to look at his cousin in alarm.

    ¡°You¡¯re very pale. Are you sure you don¡¯t need anything?¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your concern, Lord Gregor,¡± replied the treasurer. He forced himself to return the look and pulled his lips into an ugly smile. ¡°But there¡¯s no need to worry. It¡¯s just that¡­I have a peculiar relationship with fire.¡±

 Chapter 11. Ellisdor

    Nowhere on the continent was the Keeper worshipped with as much fervor as in Highligland. Their fanatical love for the god practically ran in their veins¡ªwhen your life is filled with pain, hunger, cold, and an uncomfortable anticipation of an unpleasant demise, you unwittingly want to believe in something good. And that¡¯s why the study of the Way, which promised all its followers happiness and a reunion with their loved ones in the Crystal Hall after death, enjoyed so much popularity in those lands. It was impossible to tell if that happiness actually existed or if it was all a great bait and switch thought up by a slick group of Latanians thousands of years before. Ultimately, nobody had returned from the Crystal Hall, and therefore the promises had never been confirmed or denied.

    Still, the masters were to a large degree respected and welcomed in Highligland, though there weren¡¯t many who were willing to risk their lives traveling to those harsh climes. That meant that the appearance of an unfamiliar cleric within the walls of Ellisdor was bound to draw attention. Even Aldor himself, exhausted from hours spent studying petitions, came down.

    Leaning on a carved wooden staff, a man ambled into the inner courtyard, instantly garnering himself glances from all sides. Servants, refugees, and soldiers all looked up from their work and fell into reverent silence. After getting to the wide staircase leading to the manor house, the man bowed to the baron standing at the top. A traveling cloak that had seen better days was thrown wide to display the cleric¡¯s outfit and a silver disk dangling on a long chain. The godly person smiled radiantly.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°Welcome to Ellisdor, Master,¡± Aldor nodded.

    ¡°I am an itinerant monk,¡± said the guest as he looked around. ¡°Brother Aristid. I bring word of the Way and help those in need wherever the merciful Keeper sends me.¡±

    The steward smiled in reply.

    ¡°Ellisdor is always happy to see god¡¯s people. I am Baron Aldor den Grauer, in charge of the manor in Duke Gregor Voldhard¡¯s absence. What can I do for you, holy brother?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I wanted to ask what I can do for you and these people!¡± The friar once again beamed a forgiving smile and gestured toward the crowd. ¡°You live on hard lands torn by conflict and a harsh climate. It¡¯s a place for cruel men and strong women. But even you, who have seen nothing but war, pain, and grief over the centuries, sometimes need an uplifting word. I¡¯d like to ask permission to stay in the manor in order to help those in need to the best of my ability. On my way north, I met refugees from the Disputed Lands. That made me think I could be of use in Ellisdor.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Aldor said with a nod. ¡°We would be grateful for your aid. You can enjoy the hospitality of the manor and speak with Master Dararius¡ªhe is in charge of our Shrine.¡±

    Brother Aristid brightened.

    ¡°In truth, god is with me! I¡¯m sure I will not be a burden to you. Among my talents is more than just knowledge of reading and theology; living abroad in Belter, Rikenaar, Gatson, and even Ennia has taught me much. I even have some knowledge of the healing arts, so I could help your local healers.¡±

    ¡°An invaluable skill in these parts,¡± said Aldor. ¡°Welcome to Ellisdor.¡±

 Chapter 12. Missolen

    Okay, so there are two of us. Nobody knows Gregor Voldhard from faraway Highligland here in the capital. My reputation doesn¡¯t do me any favors, either, although the aristocrats know who pays for the fun they have at the palace. And anyone who happens to have a lapse in their memory will get a careful reminder.

    Demos did, in fact, send out those little reminders. House Devaton¡¯s capital residence, not much smaller or less luxurious than the imperial castle, regularly threw parties. During the festivities, the halls ran with rivers of fine southern wine, the best musicians in the empire were there to play, and treats were carried around by practiced servants. Getting an invitation to a Devaton party meant joining the upper echelon of palace society. That status was highly valued, fought over, and pursued so aggressively that those looking to achieve it were willing to offer the noble family practically any service they asked for. And the entire pomp and pageantry was managed by the brilliant Lady Eltinia.

    That was why Demos preferred humble quarters in the imperial palace.

    Why is it that we can work together toward the interests of the house, while we¡¯re at each other¡¯s throat the second the conversation turns to my future?

    Lady Eltinia was without doubt a truly incredible woman, and Demos loved her the way any son is duty-bound love his mother. But no more. There had never been any warmth or mutual understanding between them for as long as he could remember. Demos was the firstborn, the heir to an enormous fortune and string of titles, and so he¡¯d felt the weight of his mother¡¯s expectations since he was born. Lady Eltinia¡¯s ambition and thirst for power had followed him his entire life. Sometimes, Demos wanted nothing more than to kill her, though by the same token, he thanked the heavens for the tough lessons she taught him.

    Once again, they were forced to work together. Lady Eltinia had long since measured the stakes, and she had no plans to sacrifice her position for the sake of some Highligland barbarian even if Demos was not earmarked for the crown. But the situation was playing right into her hands. With that in mind, she¡¯d put together a list of nobles that the Devatons needed on their side¡ªRikenaar was a particular target. Lady Eltinia was working in that direction when Demos left the residence banquet hall unnoticed.

    The air in the wide, tapestry-lined corridor was cool, which helped with his migraine. The treasurer sighed in relief, though he immediately winced from a different pain as his leg chimed in. It was getting worse. Demos was forced to move slowly and only with the help of a cane.

    I wonder when government service will finally do me in.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Demos called over to Lahel, who was waiting for him near the doorway to a secret staircase. She¡¯d switched out her favorite colorful handkerchief in favor of a black one. ¡°Is Ihraz ready?¡±

    The Ennian woman glanced dubiously at her master¡¯s leg.

    ¡°My brother is waiting in the garden. Are you sure you¡¯ll make it that far? It¡¯s not close.¡±

    Do I have a choice? I¡¯m not getting up on a horse, and a carriage or litter would draw too much attention. But I have to see Archella. The sooner, the better.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± the treasurer replied quietly. Throwing a simple dark cloak over his shoulders, he hobbled forward. A few seconds later, he stopped at the top of the narrow staircase.

    I completely forgot about that. So embarrassing¡ªthe head of a powerful house can¡¯t even deal with a few little stairs.

    He took one careful step. Pain shot through his leg, and he felt a twinge in his spine. A cry squeezed itself out of him, though he motioned to his sympathetic bodyguard to leave him be.

    ¡°I have to¡­myself,¡± he grunted, grabbing the railing tighter and continuing down.

    Awkwardly making his way down, Demos dug deep into his bank of foreign languages¡ªwith every step, he found a good dozen new curse words to throw at the stairs.

    And I didn¡¯t use a single one twice. Nice work! Curses, that hurts so bad.

    Lahel moved next to him wordlessly, prepared to help if needed. Demos didn¡¯t have anyone closer than the taciturn woman and her brother. The two Ennian servants knew most of his weaknesses and vices, they could count each of his sore points, they were devoted, and they enjoyed the privilege of speaking openly with their master. But still, however warmly he felt about his southern bodyguard, Demos didn¡¯t let himself get into the really bad language around her.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    At the end of the day, she¡¯s still a woman, even if she is a former slave.

    As soon as the exercise in endurance was complete and Demos felt the even stone below his feet, his strength gave out. Lahel reacted instantly, grabbing her master under the arms.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Devaton said with a hard swallow. ¡°That just turned out harder than I expected.¡±

    The treasurer fished around in his pocket and pulled out his small box of pashtara. Snuffling a pinch into each nostril, he sighed noisily and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, the pain in his leg dulled, and he felt better. Lahel shook her head disapprovingly, if silently.

    Don¡¯t look at me like that, my dear. I know very well that I¡¯m on thin ice, but it¡¯s the only way forward right now. At some point, I¡¯ll stop, so long as I¡¯m still able to. But not today.

    They walked out into the back courtyard. On the other side of the wall was a beautiful garden with fountains, fruit trees, and sculptures. Guests were enjoying the warm spring evening, walking along the alleys paved with crushed white marble. Drunk with the glorious air, the nightingales were bursting with song. Apparently, nobody was all that bothered by the mourning period announced by the church.

    What a delightful evening. It¡¯s a shame, I¡¯m going to have to spend it in the trashy quarter.

    After walking past a low wall in the garden, Demos and Lahel turned and headed in a different direction. They ambled slowly past storehouses, warehouses, and several cellars. In the distance, horses whinnied, and servants chattered.

    Ihraz was waiting for his master and sister in the shadow of an annex, and he wasn¡¯t alone. Devaton stretched his leg and leaned heavily on his cane. The person Ihraz was talking to noticed them from a distance, coming over to meet the treasurer.

    It¡¯s Master Archella himself. Demos¡¯ eyes narrowed when he recognized the spy¡¯s powerful figure. How nice of him to keep me from dragging my crippled legs halfway across the city.

    When they got closer, Demos found that he was right.

    ¡°Master Archella,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Isn¡¯t this a surprise. I was actually on my way to visit your lair.¡±

    The spy threw back his hood and bowed gracefully.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you in good health, Lord Demos.¡±

    Good health? Seriously?

    ¡°And what made you sneak into my house?¡±

    ¡°He grabbed me at the door,¡± Ihraz grumbled. ¡°The guards are terrible.¡±

    Archella smiled charmingly as he stood over Demos.

    ¡°I just wanted to remind your Grace that I¡¯m worth the money I¡¯m paid,¡± he said with an amiable laugh. ¡°I was told you wanted to see me in person, so I decided to shake things up and go for a walk.¡±

    Demos dismissed his bodyguards with a wave and gripped his cane tighter. Ihraz and Lahel got the message and stepped away to the side.

    The spy threw an intrigued glance in Demos¡¯ direction.

    ¡°I¡¯m all ears, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°Tell me, Master Archella, who could break into the imperial palace and get someone out without being noticed?¡±

    ¡°I could, for one,¡± the large man smiled.

    ¡°But your people didn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t your question.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about feigning innocence, Master Archella. I know my pocket isn¡¯t the only one that feeds you, and that¡¯s okay with me so long as it doesn¡¯t get in the way of our partnership.¡±

    The spy shrugged indifferently.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always appreciated your wisdom. In this case, though, my people only work in the palace at your orders.¡±

    Good thing. Your loyalty cost me a pretty penny.

    ¡°Right now, I need to know who else is capable of pulling a trick like that with someone in the palace.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in the capital, my lord¡­¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m asking you. I¡¯ve only lived in Missolen for five years, so I could miss something. Think, Archella. The capital is your home.¡±

    The spy scratched his neatly trimmed beard.

    ¡°Whoever did it, they¡¯d have to have very good connections in the palace or a way to make the guards look elsewhere.¡± Archella glanced meaningfully at the treasurer. ¡°Money, threats, or even sorcery. It wouldn¡¯t be the Targosians¡ªtheir reach is short, their influence limited. Actually, I doubt the imperials would have the resources to pull something that daring off, too.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just that the imperial nobility doesn¡¯t have the resources; they don¡¯t have a motive,¡± the treasurer replied wearily. His leg was really starting to ache. ¡°The woman we¡¯re talking about didn¡¯t threaten their position at all.¡±

    ¡°That makes things even more interesting. I certainly do enjoy the puzzles you throw my way.¡±

    Not to mention the money I pay you.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the bottom line, Master Archella?¡± The pain was getting unbearable. Demos was practically whimpering, only the weakening effect of the pashtara holding him back.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one spot my people and I don¡¯t have access to,¡± the spy whispered, the ever-present smile disappearing. ¡°A place I don¡¯t risk breaking into for fear of the Collegium¡¯s wrath.¡±

    ¡°The church,¡± Demos nodded. ¡°I thought about that.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help you there, no matter how deeply I love Your Grace. I¡¯d send my people anywhere for you, just not into Eclusum.¡±

    The treasurer looked up at the spy and, contrary to his expectations, saw not a hint of a sparkle in his eyes. The capital¡¯s best spy, one of the smartest people in the empire¡­was afraid.

    What did the masters do with our faith when they¡¯re too busy inspiring terror to give people a home in the afterlife?

    ¡°I understand, Master Archella, and I¡¯m not going to ask anything from you but your silence. Although, I will be needing one of your people. I need to look into someone.¡±

    ¡°My thanks, Lord Demos,¡± the spy replied with obvious relief. ¡°I¡¯ll send you someone.¡±

    Devaton waved his bodyguards over and in so doing made it clear that the meeting was over. Archella threw his hood over his head and melted into the darkness.

    Irving was right. If the masters are involved in the empress¡¯ disappearance, I don¡¯t envy even myself. There¡¯s some irony there¡ªan inveterate atheist is going to have to dig into the church. I wonder if all the arches of the Great Shrine will come crashing down on me for my sacrilege.

 Chapter 13. The free city Givoi

    Loud cries in different languages, splashing water, and the stomping of hundreds of feet battered Artanna¡¯s ears. The Hundred leader made her way through the crowd accompanied by several fighters, cursing to herself the ships arriving that morning. The fair season was coming up, and the traders were off their rocker.

    There were so many people. Some of them even had to be elbowed out of the way. Shrain was out in front of Artanna, and he was the one casually knocking everyone to the side as if he was cutting grass. The tangy smells and sounds were making Artanna sick¡ªher head had been bothering her since the morning. But it was a bad premonition that was really on her mind.

    They were almost there. Artanna hoped the news Val, her secretary, had brought her that morning was mistaken. She hoped, though there was little positive to make of the combination of circumstances. The cordon of city guards and Guiro¡¯s familiar crimson mantle put paid to any doubts she was still harboring.

    Shrain was first to see everything and stopped so suddenly Artanna plowed into his shoulder. The Hundred leader swore, instinctively held her hands to her temples, and tried to push on ahead, though she was stopped by an enormous arm. The giant looked around for a few seconds, studied everything he could see over the heads of the guards, and finally turned to the woman.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to see this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡± The Vagran shoved his arm away.

    Guiro held out an arm.

    ¡°Artanna, I¡¯m not sure¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re never sure about anything,¡± Artanna barked. ¡°Let me by, or I swear, there will be one more body on this street.¡±

    Guiro gave in, shook his head sadly, and motioned for the guards to step aside. The view they opened to the Hundred leader made her head pound even harder. Her stomach flopped, and she very nearly spewed her meager breakfast all over the corpse.

    Gaining control, the mercenary woman dropped to her knees next to the body. What had been breathing and cracking jokes the day before, what had once gone by the name of Rianos, had been turned into minced meat. There were too many wounds for one death. It was a chunk of meat spattered with blood, swill, and shit. The only thing left to identify the healer were his long, straw-colored hair and the torn Ennian clothes he was wearing¡ªhis favorite tunic, one he¡¯d washed until it was practically worn through. Artanna cleaned the dirt from the surviving cheek and saw the brand.

    Val had been right.

    ¡°Ri,¡± the mercenary sighed. ¡°Who could have done this to you?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine who would do that kind of thing,¡± Guiro said softly as he walked by. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Artanna. I¡¯m really sorry.¡±

    Without taking her hands away from her dead friend¡¯s face, the woman looked up at her lover.

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t just a murder, Federigo. It was revenge.¡±

    ¡°Possibly. But for what?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡± snapped the reply. ¡°Rianos had a long story. Where did they find him?¡±

    Guiro motioned in the direction of a wooden house with windows lined by boards cut roughly with an axe.

    ¡°Over there, today at dawn. He was in that corner.¡±

    ¡°And nobody saw anything?¡± Shrain asked, surprise filtering into his tone. ¡°It may not be crowded here, but it¡¯s not abandoned.¡±

    ¡°Nobody.¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡± Artanna pulled herself to her feet and went over to the house. The cordon parted to let her through.

    She took a close look around the area, but there was nothing to be seen besides the remains of old holiday wreaths blown there from the river. She silently collected her thoughts. Who could have had it out for the harmless Ennian? The religious fanatics in Givoi weren¡¯t thrilled with him, but Artanna was the only one who knew about Rianos¡¯ gift for sorcery. And she kept a tight lid on her tongue. The healer had nothing to steal, and nobody really bullied him in the city. She couldn¡¯t figure it out.

    Guiro came over to Artanna and pressed a shoulder against her as if by accident. It was the only expression of care he could afford her with people around.

    ¡°When did he go missing?¡± Federigo asked.

    ¡°He left yesterday afternoon,¡± Shrain replied. ¡°When he didn¡¯t come back after dinner, we sent people out looking for him. They checked the herbalist¡¯s since Rianos was supposed to pick up some things there, and they said he stopped by, took what he needed, and headed home.¡±

    ¡°Did they find anyone who might have seen him on the way home?¡± Artanna rubbed her temples wildly. The pain in her head was growing unbearable, the stench was intolerable, and her stomach continued heaving. ¡°And what could he have been doing here? It¡¯s nowhere near on the way.¡±

    ¡°There are no witnesses,¡± Vezzam said.

    A murmur broke out from the direction of the square. The cordon parted to make way for a squad of armed men wearing the Brotherhood chevron, and the Hundred leader instinctively dropped her hand to the hilt of her sword.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid, Artanna. Please, just don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡± Guiro hissed.

    Tanor himself, a large, hefty guy covered from head to toe in thick leather, was out in front. His mercenary leader jacket was so tight that it looked ready to burst at the seams. Smiling broadly, Tanor strutted majestically past the Hundred fighters and walked up to Artanna, the sunlight reflecting off his bald head. Two strikingly similar mercenaries right behind Tanor glanced at each other and simultaneously adjusted belts loaded with knives.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°What the hell did you bring the Chironis here for?¡± Artanna asked in place of a greeting.

    Tanor turned to the brothers and shrugged.

    ¡°They volunteered themselves. All we want is to pay our respects.¡± The tiny eyes framed by old scars flashed cunningly before settling on one of the Hundred fighters. ¡°What a loss. Who¡¯s going to patch up your scrawny butt now?¡±

    Artanna measured both Chironis with her eyes. Behind the brothers, a swanky hat and its colorful feather flashed¡ªPiraf. The squad leader waved silently.

    ¡°Impressive,¡± Artanna replied, her voice strained and her eyes meeting Tanor¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s amazing how fast news travels. After all, I just now confirmed that this chunk of meat is my healer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong¡ªI do like being the first to find things out.¡± The Brotherhood leader drooped into a playful bow. ¡°How else are you and I going to divvy up our beautiful city? My eyes and ears are everywhere.¡±

    Artanna stepped closer and smiled nastily.

    ¡°The whole thing is getting interesting. This is your territory, so my guy met a foul end on your turf. Where were your eyes and ears then?¡±

    Tanor flashed her a lazy smile.

    ¡°They may not always be as attentive as they should be. We¡¯re mercenaries, after all, and things happen. Our patrols can¡¯t cover an area as big as mine.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. You¡¯re paid good money for shit work.¡± The mercenary woman nodded toward the viceroy¡¯s aide. ¡°Signor Guiro, please note that Master Tanor admitted that himself.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re going to accuse me of something now. But of what?¡± The wide grin bared yellowed teeth.

    ¡°My man was killed in your territory,¡± Artanna replied, spitting out each word and stepping closer to Tanor. ¡°When we split up the city, you swore to the viceroy that you¡¯d keep the peace. The Brotherhood has security for the foundries and the port, and you fell down on the job.¡±

    ¡°Like everything¡¯s so fine and dandy in your parts.¡±

    ¡°Nobody gets hacked to pieces in my quarters,¡± the mercenary woman hissed. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her sword. ¡°Of course, your people might have just been following orders. You¡¯re the one to profit when my forces are weakened, and robbing the Hundred of our best healer is one slick move.¡±

    Tanor listened to Artanna¡¯s tirade with unfeigned interested until he finally burst out laughing.

    ¡°You really did have a few drinks! Have you still not sobered up from last night? I heard quite a bit! From the sound of it, you and Fester turned practically the whole tavern upside down.¡±

    ¡°Wait a second!¡± Vezzam barked so loudly that Tanor jumped in surprise. The Vagran went over to the body. ¡°He¡¯s holding something¡­¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Guiro asked.

    The Vagran pried Rianos¡¯ fingers apart.

    ¡°Curses¡­¡±

    ¡°Say it, whatever it is,¡± Artanna ordered. Her voice cracked, and she mentally cursed herself for her weakness. Not there, not then, not in front of the rabble.

    ¡°Damn. See for yourself.¡± Vezzam held out a Brotherhood badge. ¡°And you, Pops, have even more explaining to do.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± boomed Shrain.

    ¡°Master Tanor, explain yourself,¡± barked Guiro.

    Artanna ignored the mercenary and turned to Guiro.

    ¡°All of you, listen!¡± The Hundred leader¡¯s voice rose; she jabbed a finger in Pops¡¯ direction. ¡°I, Artanna nar Toll, accuse this man of violating his agreement with the viceroy. I accuse Tanor Sardo of poorly guarding the territory assigned to him, leading to the death of my man. I accuse his people of the murder of an innocent. And I demand the viceroy personally look into the tragedy.¡±

    Alarm rippled through the onlookers. The Brotherhood fighters surrounded their leader and demonstratively placed hands on swords, eliciting a similar and instantaneous response from Shrain, Vezzam, and the few other Hundred mercenaries.

    ¡°Slander!¡± Tanor roared. ¡°Absurd! I don¡¯t know anything about this! It¡¯s a damn setup. She just wants to get her fingers all over my territory¡ªhow far is this Vagran whore willing to go before she controls the whole city?¡±

    ¡°No further than she¡¯s permitted.¡±

    Guiro flinched when he heard the viceroy¡¯s familiar voice.

    ¡°Signor Kirino.¡± The mercenary woman bowed in greeting, though she still didn¡¯t relax her grip on her weapon.

    Tanor stumbled awkwardly in an attempted show of courtesy.

    ¡°Good day, Signor¡­¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± the viceroy shot back viciously. ¡°My condolences to the Hundred.¡±

    The Vagran woman nodded. Signor Kirino, leaving his escorts behind, gestured to the mercenaries to put their weapons away. He then grunted as he crouched next to the body of the healer and started looking over the wounds carefully.

    Artanna tracked his every move. They weren¡¯t friends, though they weren¡¯t enemies, either¡ªKirino had a good idea what the Hundred was up to, and he was certainly not in favor of it. An old man with little strength in him, there was still something left that appearances concealed. Kirino was very much alive, he had a sharp wit, and his memory was incredible. Too incredible, Guiro thought. Sometimes, it caused trouble.

    The viceroy placed a hand over his wrinkled face and stroked his gray beard.

    ¡°Do you have any hypotheses regarding the killer?¡± he asked Artanna.

    The latter nodded.

    ¡°He was holding one of Tanor¡¯s chevrons in his hand. Who exactly it belonged to, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Did he have any enemies?¡±

    ¡°None that I¡¯m aware of.¡±

    ¡°But you certainly do, Artanna.¡±

    ¡°You think this was a message for me?¡±

    ¡°For all of us.¡± The viceroy stood up and glanced over at the alley where Rianos had been found. ¡°Pulling something like this a couple blocks from the town hall¡­ It¡¯s a strong message.¡±

    ¡°And you think somebody¡¯s declaring war on me?¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, just on you, Artanna.¡± Guiro offered the wobbling viceroy his arm. ¡°But whatever it is, we all need to be careful until we figure out what¡¯s going on.¡±

    Artanna nodded.

    ¡°The dead man was a follower of the Way,¡± she said. ¡°Would you permit us to take his remains and perform the rituals?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the old man replied. ¡°The ceremony expenses will be paid for out of the city treasury. I¡¯m sorry this happened¡ªwe were preparing to give the healer citizenship in a couple years.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Signor Kirino.¡±

    The Vagran woman took off her cloak and handed it to Shrain, who used it to cover the mutilated body.

    ¡°But the fact that a crime like this could be committed on territory under guard does interest me.¡± The viceroy tugged on his beard, staring at Tanor. ¡°It really does. We¡¯ll figure this out soon, so I¡¯ll be expecting to see you both. In the very near future.¡±

    He glanced at the two mercenary leaders, they nodded, and he headed toward the other side of the square.

    Guiro hurried after the viceroy, throwing a worried glance at Artanna as he went. The guard dispersed. When Kirino and Guiro disappeared into the crowd, Tanor finally wiped the fawning smile from his face.

    ¡°This is a setup!¡± The Brotherhood leader pulled out a knife and closed the distance between him and Artanna. ¡°You probably arranged it yourself. What, you think you can get away with anything since Guiro is screwing you?¡±

    The mercenary woman stood motionless, sensing her fighters¡¯ rage.

    ¡°Easy, boys,¡± she said gently, brushing some hair out of her face. ¡°Tanor is a moron, of course, but he understands that any harm he does to the Hundred before the viceroy finishes his investigation will make things worse for him. Isn¡¯t that true, my dear?¡±

    Tanor spat between her legs and stared at her sullenly.

    ¡°Only until the investigation.¡±

    Artanna let that go as well, turning to her troops.

    ¡°We¡¯ll give the body to the fire in the manor. Call the master. Third, you¡¯re up,¡± she said wearily to Shrain.

    The giant exchanged glances with Vezzam, and the pair rolled the body up in several cloaks. Without much effort, Shrain picked it up and started making his way through the crowd.

    They got to the manor without saying a word. Nobody was angry, nobody cried, nobody lamented. Rianos didn¡¯t care, anymore, and the only thing Artanna could do for him was find out what monster could have committed such an abomination.

 Chapter 14. Missolen

    The palace servant¡¯s tiny room in the wing was illuminated solely by the flame of a cheap, smoky candle. The air was damp. Lady Eltinia settled gracefully onto an oaken barrel, her skirt hitching up to reveal a brocaded shoe decorated with gems and lace. The stark contrast between her luxury and the barren room unsettled the person the dowager duchess had come to speak with.

    ¡°Well, Vasser, while the all-important husbands are out playing gods and trying to mete out the fate of the empire, tell me about your new master.¡± The woman¡¯s soft voice rustled gently in the gloom.

    ¡°He isn¡¯t my master, Lady,¡± came the regretful reply. He was a fair-haired young man who chopped off the ends of his words the way they did in Highligland. ¡°I¡¯m just his squire.¡±

    Lady Eltinia shrugged.

    ¡°If you do everything we agreed, you¡¯ll soon be a knight yourself¡ªI¡¯ll take care of that. Sir Vasser Dibrion¡­¡± Lady Eltinia let the title roll off her tongue before falling silent, giving him time to let the dream sink in. ¡°But for now, tell me everything you were able to find out about Voldhard. You got your money in advance, after all, and keeping you where you are isn¡¯t cheap, either.¡±

    Pulling himself away from his musings, the spy nodded.

    ¡°I was selected as a squire, though just a junior squire, exactly the way you said. But I think the fact that I can read and do arithmetic means my position will change soon. I¡¯m already getting close to His Grace¡¯s inner circle, I¡¯m running errands, and, best of all, I¡¯m in the kitchen a lot. The servant girls love chattering over the food, so you can hear a lot of interesting things while you¡¯re eating something good.¡±

    ¡°Get to the point. We don¡¯t have much time, and I want to know everything.¡±

    Vasser shook his curls and scratched his long, slender nose.

    ¡°The duke has a pretty large entourage. That¡¯s unusual for someone who grew up in the Order¡ªthey¡¯re usually very unsociable, preferring their prayers and weapons. Lord Gregor is focusing on the youth, getting the children of barons and counts close to him. Most are fighters who His Grace campaigned with on the border with Rundkar. But the most interesting person there is Aldor den Grauer, a landless baron. Those two have been friends since they were pupils in the Order. I¡¯m not sure why, but Voldhard trusts Grauer like himself, even made him his steward. That surprises me.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Vasser shrugged.

    ¡°He¡¯s older, he looks and acts like a southerner, he doesn¡¯t know how to fight¡­ Strange company for someone who can¡¯t imagine life without battle. And they¡¯re so close¡­¡±

    Lady Eltinia¡¯s eyes narrowed slyly. ¡°Are you trying to say that young Voldhard likes men?¡±

    ¡°No, by Gillenai!¡± The spy waved his arms as much as the tiny room would allow. ¡°The duke prefers women in bed. At least, I definitely know of one case, though I¡¯m only going to tell you about that once I get the rest of my modest pay.¡±

    Lady Eltinia pulled an embroidered velvet bag off her belt and held it out to the young man.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it modest. You¡¯re costing me quite a bit,¡± she muttered. ¡°The things you do for gossip. All right, go ahead.¡±

    Vasser¡¯s eyes glistened as he weighed the bag in his palm.

    ¡°The ambassador from Latandal, Lady Irital, is currently in Ellisdor. That¡¯s no surprise since she¡¯s often traveling, though Her Grace is particularly fond of Highligland. This year, she¡¯s been to Ellisdor three times, and only once on an official visit.¡±

    The Ennian smiled knowingly.

    ¡°I imagine there¡¯s a very good reason for that, yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid His Grace is that reason. They often spend time alone.¡±

    ¡°How alone?¡±

    ¡°Completely alone. They¡¯re very, very close, my gracious benefactress.¡±

    Lady Eltinia¡¯s brows shot upward in feigned surprise.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re trying to tell me, my friend, that the intended spouse of the next emperor shares a bed with Voldhard?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. The day before we left, the duke visited the ambassador and sent the servant girl away. Needless to say, the girl didn¡¯t listen, and instead decided to indulge her curiosity. She says they did the kind of thing you don¡¯t talk about in decent society. She told me herself.¡±

    ¡°And what did that information cost you, my dear?¡±

    ¡°Surprisingly, my lady, I even enjoyed the process.¡± The squire¡¯s face split into a proud smile. ¡°You taught me well. But, I¡¯ll admit, I miss Missolen. When are you going to bring me back?¡±

    ¡°Soon, my boy. For now, you¡¯re needed in Ellisdor. Head back to Highligland and await news. I also need what you told me today in writing.¡±

    ¡°Certainly. And the servant girl who told me everything¡­¡±

    Lady Eltinia nodded.

    ¡°Get her here when you have the chance. She¡¯s a valuable witness¡ªdon¡¯t let me down.¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± the squire replied, dead serious. ¡°I¡¯ll prove to you how grateful I am.¡±

    The dowager duchess smiled indulgently.

    ¡°It turns out, I trained you well. Remembering your debts is good, my boy, and you¡¯re doing an excellent job paying them back so far. I¡¯m happy with you, Vasser Dibrion.¡±

    ¡°Should I give my letters to the usual person?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And now go before you¡¯re caught. Until next time.¡±

    The young man bowed respectfully. Lady Eltinia leaped up elegantly from the barrel and whisked out the door.

    A minute later, the sound of her footfalls had faded. She¡¯d gotten the information just as they¡¯d agreed, all fair and honest¡ªgood money for good intelligence. But there was no agreement in place that Lady Eltinia was the only person who would benefit from the secrets he knew.

    Vasser Dibrion was expecting a second bag of coins that evening.

 Chapter 15. Missolen

    ¡°Hello there, Renar.¡±

    A handshake was followed by a reserved hug and a blessing with the sign of the Keeper. It was a game for the public, all etiquette with not a drop of warmth. Ever since Renar Devaton had become a pupil of the Order, their last shred of friendship had disappeared.

    You still haven¡¯t forgiven me.

    ¡°What brings you to Eclusum, Demos?¡± It didn¡¯t take much intuition to see that Renar was less than happy to see his brother.

    ¡°You missed my appointment ceremony when I was made advisor, and you stopped writing mother. The family is worried.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Renar replied coldly. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy with my service. Please accept my congratulations.¡±

    Lying is a great sin, dear brother. You should know that, shouldn¡¯t you? I¡¯d swear on anything it was because I missed your initiation as a knight of the Order.

    Demos looked up at Renar and felt a short but painful twinge of guilt.

    Just like me when I was younger. The proud posture, the haughty chin, the shining eyes¡­ Your personality takes after your mother, though.

    ¡°How¡¯s the service?¡±

    ¡°They promoted me to knight captain.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations.¡± Demos was sincerely happy for his brother. ¡°I¡¯m sure you earned it.¡±

    ¡°As did you your post.¡±

    The conversation wasn¡¯t going well, and Demos felt uncomfortable. Eclusum¡¯s impregnable walls pressed in on all sides, the heat exhausting. The prayers he could hear from the ten Shrines kept him from concentrating. And he needed Ihraz and Lahel¡ªsince they didn¡¯t follow the Way, they hadn¡¯t been allowed past the walls of the sacred city. Demos had been forced to make the trip into Eclusum alone.

    Without his Ennians and faced by a hundred clerics, he felt helpless. Eclusum itself didn¡¯t scare him, of course, though the fact that his younger brother had dedicated his life to serving such dubious ideals caused him much more pain. But it was too late to change anyone¡¯s mind. Since taking his vows, Renar had done everything he could to ensure he would never return to worldly life.

    And I wasn¡¯t in time to head it off at the pass. I couldn¡¯t convince father to change his mind when he decided to send you into the Order, though if I¡¯d spent more time with you, maybe you would have left when your novitiate ended. So worried about the house¡¯s position in society, I forgot about the people who make it a home. Your fate is my doing, brother. My greatest failure.

    ¡°It¡¯s stuffy in here,¡± Renar said. ¡°Let¡¯s head over to a garden.¡±

    At least, he isn¡¯t kicking me out right away. That¡¯s a win.

    His brother took Demos down some narrow streets. The farther they went, the quieter the singing got, and it was there, after the rows of temples and chapels, that the real Eclusum began. The area was occupied by administrative buildings, houses belonging to the masters and novices, barracks, refectories, blacksmiths, warehouses, and storehouses. There were gardens there, as well, along with flower and vegetable beds growing healing herbs. The largest building was the Collegium of the Inquisition, the cellars of which were said to stretch several levels below ground. It was supposedly equipped with mechanisms that pulled a man¡¯s innermost secrets out of him.

    A real state within a state. A country of clergymen. And it¡¯s so deeply intertwined with the empire that we all live our lives under its sway. The great master, a permanent member of the Small Council. Divine precepts become imperial law. The walls of Eclusum, capable of withstanding a long siege. A Collegium that threatens even the aristocracy with the fires. An entire army of knights and brother protectors, extensive holdings across all corners of the lands governed by the Criasmor Treaty, an independent bank¡­ All they need is a mint printing coins with the likeness of His Holiness on them. When did we let all this happen? What were our ancestors thinking?

    The pair arrived at a small garden behind an infirmary. There was no crushed marble lining the alleys or fountains decorated with sculptures, just paths trampled down by hundreds of feet, even rows of fruit trees, and beds growing medicinal herbs.

    ¡°I know you. You wouldn¡¯t stop by just to stop by, Demos,¡± Renar said when he was sure nobody was listening. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here for confession. I need help.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± his brother replied with a snort. ¡°When has the head of House Devaton ever stooped to his younger brother with a request for help? Got a dead body on your hands?¡±

    ¡°Well, the emperor is dead in case you didn¡¯t notice.¡±

    ¡°Gillenai rest his soul. I did notice, actually.¡±

    ¡°You said yourself that you¡¯ve been busy, so I wasn¡¯t sure.¡±

    The knight captain spun around, armor clattering.

    ¡°You came here to laugh at me?¡± he hissed. ¡°Somehow, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s your best way to get me to help you.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Demos shook his head wearily.

    ¡°Forgive me, Renar, I wasn¡¯t trying to offend you. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have just shown up¡­ But the problem is pressing, and my hands are tied.¡±

    To be fair, you started it.

    It looked like surprise flashed across Renar¡¯s face.

    Didn¡¯t expect me to apologize, did you? What I wouldn¡¯t do for my favorite brother, and really, I should¡¯ve asked for your forgiveness a long time ago.

    The knight captain nervously twitched his shoulders and gave his brother a dark glance, though he eventually caved.

    ¡°Mass is coming up. Talk quickly.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to find a master. From what I understand, he spoke with the empress the day before she left, and I need to get in contact with him. Unfortunately, however, he left the palace. I¡¯ve been having a hard time tracking him.¡±

    ¡°Why are you asking me instead of going to the Eclusum office?¡±

    Demos laughed quietly.

    ¡°With all due respect, I have yet to see a more convoluted bureaucracy than the Eclusum office. Believe me, as someone who¡¯s spent half his life on paperwork, it can take weeks to get an answer to the simplest question. And I don¡¯t have that kind of time right now.¡±

    ¡°So, this isn¡¯t just an idle inquiry?¡±

    ¡°Do you think I would bother you with something like that?¡± Demos asked in annoyance. ¡°You serve the church; I serve the state.¡±

    Although, sometimes, I¡¯m not even sure whose interests I¡¯m acting in.

    Renar sighed heavily.

    ¡°Fine. What¡¯s his name?¡±

    ¡°Master Tillius.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty common name among the Keeper¡¯s servants,¡± Renar shrugged. ¡°Tell me more. Just remember, there are a lot of people here I don¡¯t know.¡±

    You know the one from the palace.

    Demos told the story of the clergyman visiting the empress the night before she took off. Of course, he left out a few details¡ªthere was no sense getting his brother tangled up in the whole twisted affair. Renar listened carefully. And when Demos finished, he took some time to think.

    ¡°There¡¯s a Tillius in the Ulfiss cloister. He definitely fits your description, and he spends more time in Missolen than other monks.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a female cloister. But you probably remember how women, even when they¡¯re sisters of the Keeper, can¡¯t conduct a number of sacraments and rituals. They always have a few church brothers there for that reason.¡±

    Did Renar know that Izara/Tanal supposedly left for the Ulfiss cloister? But if she isn¡¯t there, why did Tillius come visit her?

    ¡°It sounds like that¡¯s my man,¡± Demos replied with a nod. ¡°You said he spends more time in Missolen than other monks. Why is that?¡±

    ¡°I remember, back when I had just become a full-fledged brother protector, I was contracted to guard a caravan of monks. They were on their way back to Ulfiss from Missolen, and that Master Tillius happened to be one of them. From what I was told, women don¡¯t like to leave the cloister and subject themselves to the temptations of the outside world, and there are plenty of temptations in the capital. They¡¯re afraid they¡¯ll give in. And so, their cloisters generally have their outside business taken care of by men, especially since they don¡¯t mind.¡±

    That sure fits. Master Tillius arrived in the capital, sold the cloister¡¯s honey, bought some things, and just happened to grab an empress on the way back. At least, that would work if it weren¡¯t for one thing: she isn¡¯t in Ulfiss. And that means I¡¯m back at square one. There¡¯s something I¡¯m missing.

    ¡°Thanks, Renar.¡± Demos touched his brother¡¯s shoulder, feeling nothing but the cold unevenness of his chainmail. ¡°You were a big help.¡±

    The knight captain¡¯s face darkened.

    ¡°I miss being home, Demos,¡± he said quietly. ¡°It¡¯ll surprise you, but I even miss you.¡±

    Me, too. As sad as I am to admit it, sometimes, I miss you more than my dead wife.

    The treasurer sighed deeply as he collected his thoughts.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this helps, but I hold myself responsible for how your life has turned out. And I know you¡¯re still not able to forgive me.¡±

    It just burst out. Finally. How many years have I been afraid to say that? Ten?

    Renar¡¯s lips quivered. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. It wasn¡¯t you who sent me into the Order; it was father. Yes, I was furious at everyone for how unfair it was back then, and I certainly didn¡¯t want to become a brother protector. I liked what you do. Learn, develop, manage, command¡­ Even sitting there with the ledgers was interesting, I swear! You inspired me, and I always wanted to be around you. But who cared what I wanted?¡±

    Demos turned away, unable to look his younger brother in the eye.

    ¡°I was young and didn¡¯t appreciate the time I had to spend with you. There was so much going on that needed my attention, or, at least, that¡¯s what it felt like. I was wrong, and it¡¯s inexcusable.¡±

    Renar grabbed the duke by the sleeve.

    ¡°Listen to me, Demos! Yes, at the beginning, I was angry, but once I resigned myself to my fate, I started looking at things differently. After all, if the Keeper hadn¡¯t wanted me to become his servant, he wouldn¡¯t have let me pass the brother protector challenge. He wouldn¡¯t have made me a knight, wouldn¡¯t have illuminated my path with divine light.¡±

    The duke threw his hands up in the air. ¡°So, you think all this is just divine will?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Renar smiled. ¡°Everything that happens to us is his will. A long time ago, I forgave everyone and started living in peace, because this is what the god I serve has for me. You¡¯ll come to realize that, too, in time.¡±

    Okay, Demos, that¡¯s two pieces of news. The good part is that your brother isn¡¯t mad at you. The bad part is that it looks like he joined the religious fanatics.

    ¡°You never know,¡± Demos shrugged. ¡°And I really miss you, too. I want you to know that.¡±

    Obeying a sudden impulse, the knight captain hugged his brother tightly.

    ¡°Then stop by more often,¡± he whispered. ¡°It hurts much more that you stopped visiting than that you let father sent me into the Order. I was starting to think you disowned me, and I didn¡¯t know why you were so angry.¡±

    What an idiot! Two idiots, in fact. What a pair of brothers.

    ¡°Mother would be happy for you to visit us,¡± Demos said.

    Renor shook his head.

    ¡°I can¡¯t. Order policy¡­ It¡¯s very strict over here, and they don¡¯t let us go into the city unless we have a good reason. Better you all come here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out.¡±

    They headed back toward the gates leading to the city. The crystal on the Great Shrine¡¯s spire glowed with white flame in the light of the midday sun. There was very little time left before mass, but Renar offered to walk Demos all the way to Cathedral Square.

    The duke was breathing easier for the first time in many years.

    You idiot. What did you wait so long for? What were you afraid of?

    They hugged as they said goodbye, that time warmly and sincerely.

    ¡°Please, come by more often,¡± Renar said. ¡°I know you¡¯re a big guy in the palace¡­ But for the love of the Keeper, don¡¯t forget about me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Demos replied with a nod. ¡°I promise.¡±

    If he¡¯d had strength left for sentiment, he probably would have let a tear drop. It would have been doomed to sizzle into nothing, however, as the street was hot as hellfire. But that didn¡¯t even matter. Demos Devaton felt immense relief. There may have been an entire pile of stones weighing him down, but that day he¡¯d rid himself of one, at least.

    After watching his brother walk away, the treasurer turned and stepped out onto the square. Ihraz and Lahel were waiting for him not far away.

    ¡°You¡¯re practically beaming, Master!¡± the Ennian woman said in amazement. ¡°Did the church really do that to you?¡±

    ¡°A clear conscience,¡± Demos replied. ¡°I scrubbed one spot clean.¡±

 Chapter 16. Ellisdor

    Aldor stopped in the middle of the stairs, took a deep breath, and convinced himself to keep climbing. Irital¡¯s invitation to dinner had caught him unawares. The steward¡¯s head was tossed between refugees from the Disputed Lands, Gregor¡¯s trip, and everything else the bureaucracy entailed, leaving him poor company for a noble woman bored and alone.

    He did his due diligence as he prepared for his meeting with the most beautiful woman in the world: combed his hair, changed his tunic, and practiced his most charming smile. And when Aldor stepped into the cozily outfitted quarters, Irital left her chair, curtseyed, and greeted her guest.

    She walked over to a large, stained-glass window that opened toward the northeast. Lancet windows took up almost the entire wall of the room, which featured all the hospitality Ellisdor had to offer¡ªthirty years before, Rolf Voldhard had rebuilt the house¡¯s guest wing all for just one special guest. Gregor¡¯s father wanted the view from his future wife¡¯s chambers to look out onto the Vagran Mountains. Back then, Rolf had hoped the view of her native mountains would help the future duchess cope with her homesickness. The woman the whole thing had been for was named Artanna nar Toll, and her marriage to Rolf was supposed to strengthen the alliance between Vag Ran and Highligland.

    But it didn¡¯t happen. Document scraps said the Vagrans were the first to turn their backs on the union, and, according to a paper in the Ellisdor chancery, House Toll was accused of treason. The entire clan was executed with the exception of Artanna, who was then in Highligland. And even though the wedding was off, the Vagran girl stayed in Ellisdor, afraid of what would happen if she returned home. Rumor even had it that she become Duke Rolf¡¯s lover and maintained that status until he died. When Rolf was forced to marry a different woman, Artanna won the right to carry a sword, swore fealty to Rolf, and followed her lord around for twenty years as a bodyguard. That was typical for Vagrans¡ªthey saw no difference between men and women when it came to war. But for Highligland, the path Artanna chose was eccentric, to say the least.

    That all happened so long ago that it was shrouded in speculation and legend. Still, the large stained-glass windows served as a reminder of the unwritten history everyone in Highligland knew, one the minstrels opined on in tearful ballades. Rolf¡¯s legal wife, Duchess Viviana, didn¡¯t spend a single night in the luxurious chambers out of contempt for the woman who really loved her husband. Even Artanna nar Toll herself had to move to more modest quarters in order to avoid giving rise to rumors, though it¡¯s also possible she just didn¡¯t want to see the Vagran Mountains every day. On the other side of them was the homeland she could never return to.

    Irital was staying there then, most likely dreaming that one day those very same chambers would become hers and Gregor¡¯s.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you were able to find time for me at last, Your Grace,¡± the ambassador said with a bewitching smile as she took Aldor by the hand. ¡°Thank you for everything you¡¯re doing for me. Would you like some warm spiced wine?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Aldor lied. He didn¡¯t want alcohol at all, though he wanted to risk ruining the uneasy truce even less.

    They were seated at opposite ends of a small table. The servants had already brought several dishes loaded with appetizers and filled their pot-bellied glasses made with colored Gatson glass. Irital¡¯s food wasn¡¯t close to what they offered in the main hall¡ªthe variety of herbs turned every bite into a thing of beauty.

    ¡°I was very sad to find out that you don¡¯t like poultry,¡± Irital said, ¡°so I had them make you brisket on greens. We¡¯ll have to leave the second partridge for the servants, I suppose. A shame.¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have changed your plans on my account,¡± the baron replied, smiling and suppressing his rising annoyance. ¡°But your attention is flattering.¡±

    Irital raised her glass.

    ¡°I¡¯m just happy to host you. I¡¯ll admit, I find it inspiring how much you care about the refugees. It was not my expectation that the castle would have any interest in them, but you, Aldor den Grauer, always find a word of comfort, shelter, and a bowl of soup for everyone in need. That is generosity befitting the Keeper himself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Lord Gregor would do the same.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± the ambassador nodded. ¡°I¡¯m starting to understand why you¡¯re such close friends.¡±

    In reply, Aldor raised his glass and took a small swallow. The spicy liquid burned his throat as it cut a fiery path down to his stomach.

    ¡°There are starting to be too many refugees,¡± the baron continued, valiantly fighting to keep from grimacing. ¡°Soon, Ellisdor won¡¯t be able to take any more. Ekkehard is full, Urst is packed. They¡¯re going to have to go farther south.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s Grauer, Mirvir, Kelbu. Even Ultsfeld if it comes to that.¡± Irital got to work carving up her partridge. ¡°And there¡¯s the port, Gorf, for anyone who wants to try their luck in the empire or Ennia. Is there any news from Gregor, Your Grace? He¡¯s been gone an entire moon, and I¡¯m starting to worry.¡±

    ¡°The last thing I heard was that he¡¯d arrived in Missolen. There hasn¡¯t been any news since then, though Lady Rhinhilda writes regularly.¡±

    Aldor used his tiny fork to spear something resembling pat¨¦ rolled up in a piece of bread.

    ¡°Her position is much simpler,¡± Irital replied. ¡°It¡¯s Gregor I¡¯m really afraid for. Missolen is a cruel city.¡±

    ¡°Forgive my impudence, but everything he¡¯s doing is for you, my lady.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I understand that. And I¡¯ll admit, the longer I wait, the more nervous I get, and the more doubt I feel. Was I right to accept his reckless gesture? Am I going to get Gregor killed? He¡¯s definitely a soul ablaze, burning brightly¡­¡±

    ¡°But not for long?¡±

    ¡°To continue the metaphor, I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ll extinguish him.¡±

    Hot food was brought in. The smell of roasted meat and fragrant foreign herbs flooded the room, and a servant girl placed a plate of juicy brisket carefully in front of the baron. Irital watched her sternly, only nodding in satisfaction when she was sure the service had been impeccable. Their glasses were again full, though Aldor hadn¡¯t even noticed when that had happened. He hadn¡¯t eaten since breakfast, and his mouth watered traitorously.

    ¡°Gregor Voldhard is tougher than you think, my lady,¡± Aldor said. ¡°Please, eat. It would be a shame for such delicious food to get cold.¡±

    The ambassador deftly pulled a leg off her bird and buried her teeth with relish into the white meat. Aldor followed her example.

    ¡°I think they might have overdone it with the spices,¡± the Latanian woman smiled wryly. ¡°Sometimes, my cook likes to take things too far.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°You have nothing to worry about,¡± Aldor replied quickly. ¡°This is the best thing I¡¯ve had since my travels with Lord Gregor.¡±

    ¡°In that case, you should dine with me more often. I swear, the next time we¡¯ll have you licking your fingers.¡±

    Aldor took a sip of wine and cut off a succulent chunk of meat.

    ¡°Our best people went with Lord Gregor, and I¡¯m sure they won¡¯t let anything happen to him. Also, I would like to see the person who can threaten anyone as renowned as him.¡±

    Irital put her uneaten leg down in disgusted before throwing back the rest of her wine.

    ¡°Water,¡± she said hoarsely. ¡°How do you ruin such a tender bird?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s odd¡ªmy meat couldn¡¯t be more savory,¡± the baron said in surprise. He noticed that the color had even gone out of the Latanian¡¯s cheeks. ¡°And how do you make partridge inedible with a few extra spices?¡±

    The Latanian servant girl filled a small cup and handed it to her mistress. Irital emptied it in a few gulps.

    ¡°Wait a second¡­¡± Aldor looked at the woman¡¯s shaking hands. The ambassador was pale and starting to choke, her delicate shoulders jerking. The terrified servant girl froze with eyelashes batting helplessly. With a crash, the cup dropped out of the Latanian¡¯s spasming hands onto the carpeted floor.

    ¡°Help¡­¡±

    The baron leaped to his feet, threw his chair back, and ran over to Irital, who was sagging to the floor. Her eyes rolled back, and foam dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

    ¡°Poison!¡± Aldor roared. ¡°Get the healer, now!¡±

    The servant girl screamed and dashed out of the chambers. A second later, the guard rushed in, alerted by the cries. Aldor barked at him angrily.

    ¡°Close the gates! Nobody gets out. And put the cook and servants under guard.¡±

    The soldier backed away, staring at the twitching body of the Latanian.

    ¡°Did you hear me?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­yes, sir!¡±

    ¡°Get to it!¡±

    Irital convulsed and groaned. The baron continued holding her, racking his brains for what he could do to help. He glanced over at the table, at his uneaten brisket, at the ambassador¡¯s overly seasoned partridge¡­ The poison could have been in with the spices.

    ¡°The bird,¡± he said, the truth dawning on him. ¡°The damn bird.¡±

    The ambassador had mentioned that they¡¯d prepared two partridges, one of which she¡¯d given to her servants when she found out too late that he didn¡¯t enjoy poultry.

    And that meant that somebody else was going to die inside the walls that day.

    ¡°Lady Irital,¡± the baron said, gently shaking the woman by her delicate shoulders. ¡°Curses! Stay with me, I¡¯m begging you.¡±

    The door to the chambers flew open. In rushed the castle healer, a stocky man wearing a long, black robe, with an equally black hat on his head and a large bag thrown over his shoulder. Confusion was plastered all over his face, and the baron had a hard time blaming him. Poisoners were despised in Highligland to the point that nobody really knew what to do when someone was poisoned. To Aldor¡¯s surprise, Brother Aristid flew into the room behind the healer. But there was no time to ask what the itinerant monk was doing in the chambers. The servant girl paced the threshold, wailing and crying.

    ¡°Move her to the bed!¡± the healer ordered. ¡°Bring me a pitcher of water and charcoal!¡±

    ¡°The charcoal will damage her throat.¡± The monk started digging through his small bag. ¡°Better dissolve this powder in the water. It¡¯s crushed tyrosine, and it¡¯ll get her to vomit and clear her stomach.

    The castle doctor stared at the man of god in shock.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of tyrosine¡ªit¡¯s an eastern drug. Give it to me.¡± He grabbed the sack of powder out of Aristid¡¯s hand. The servant girl was already holding a pitcher of water out to him. ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°Three pinches. And bring me a basin or a chamber pot. If we¡¯re lucky, the lady is going to have a hell of a time vomiting.¡±

    The healer dropped the powder into the pitcher and shook it hurriedly.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need a tube for her throat,¡± Brother Aristid said, demonstrating the shape with his hand. ¡°Do you have anything like that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think so,¡± the doctor replied. ¡°It¡¯s just that nobody¡¯s ever been poisoned in the castle. This isn¡¯t your Gatson or Ennia¡ªthey kill people with iron around here.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve had to deal with poisons many times.¡± The itinerant monk looked through the healer¡¯s bag and pulled the tube out of the very bottom. ¡°Hold the lady with her head back and open her mouth.¡±

    Aldor had seen limbs lopped off, terrible wounds, arms and legs lost to gangrene. Gaping stomach wounds and slippery organs flopping out meant nothing to him. But watching the fat tube forced down the throat of the helpless, fragile girl terrified him. The view made him want to turn and lose his dinner, but force of will quelled the spasm and kept his eyes forward. The monk finished pushing the instrument down the Latanian¡¯s throat before pouring the water with the emetic powder into it.

    ¡°And now we wait,¡± the man of god said, sighing heavily as he carefully pulled the tube out of Irital. ¡°I hope the Keeper will hear my prayers.¡±

    The golden-haired servant girl huddled near the headboard, wiping away the foam and drool from her mistress¡¯ face. The castle healer looked at the monk with awe.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the masters could heal with anything besides prayers.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a master; I¡¯m an itinerant brother of the church,¡± the monk replied. ¡°I go to many places, and the more I know and can do, the better my chances are of surviving. It¡¯s not everywhere that the followers of the Way are given a warm welcome.¡±

    Aldor shook himself.

    ¡°Brother Aristid, you wouldn¡¯t be capable of identifying the poison, would you? I saved Lady Irital¡¯s food.¡±

    The man of god shrugged uncertainly.

    ¡°That depends. Some substances are impossible to identify.¡±

    ¡°The ambassador ate half her food and complained that the cook had overdone it with the spices.¡± The baron took Irital¡¯s plate off the table and handed it to the monk. Brother Aristid lifted a piece of uneaten partridge to his nose and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. Then he licked it, rolled it around on his tongue, and suddenly spat onto the floor.

    ¡°Drinna¡¯s Blessing,¡± he said after some thought.

    ¡°Whose blessing?¡± Aldor asked.

    ¡°Drinna¡¯s Blessing is the name of the poison. I¡¯m surprised it was added to poultry, although that explains why there were so many spices¡­¡±

    ¡°But why wasn¡¯t it just put in the wine? That would¡¯ve been simpler.¡±

    The monk shook his head wearily.

    ¡°Not at all. Drinna¡¯s Blessing brightens the wine, leaves a residue, and is just generally visible, which makes it impractical. Very strange¡­¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s bothering you, holy brother?¡±

    ¡°Are there any Ennians in your castle? The poison that was used on this woman is very expensive, but highly effective. They call it the aristocrat¡¯s death since it acts gently and tenderly. First, the victim has a hard time breathing, then their limbs start to shake, convulsions kick in, and finally, they fall asleep. After they die, the body doesn¡¯t bloat, there aren¡¯t any of your typical splotches on the face. The person looks like they just went to sleep. And that¡¯s where the name comes from¡ªDrinna was the ancient Ennian goddess of the night.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed that you know all that, though I have no idea where you¡¯d get that kind of poison in Ellisdor,¡± Aldor replied with a frown. ¡°Is there an antidote?¡±

    ¡°The important thing is to not wait until the victim falls asleep, since waking them up is impossible. Whoever came up with this ungodly way of doing it wanted the victim to go with as little pain as possible.¡±

    Suddenly, Irital wheezed, and something gurgled in her throat.

    ¡°Quickly, turn her over onto her side,¡± the monk cried. ¡°Otherwise, she¡¯ll choke on her vomit.¡±

    It was like the ambassador suddenly turned inside out. Her slender body, supported by the arms of the servant girl and the healer, was wracked with spasms. Brownish liquid splashed all over part of the bed and the floor, and Irital groaned between attacks. It didn¡¯t look like she had any idea what was going on.

    Aldor prayed that the monk¡¯s treatment would work, unwilling to picture the duke¡¯s rage in his head. If Gregor¡¯s sweetheart didn¡¯t live, Aldor knew he¡¯d be the first to lose his head.

    Finally, Irital¡¯s rasps calmed. She lost consciousness once again, softening into the arms of the healer. The servant girl carefully pulled the dirty bedspread out from under her.

    ¡°What now?¡± the baron asked.

    Brother Aristid pulled out his sack. ¡°One more pitcher, back to the tube.¡±

    ¡°Can she take it?¡±

    ¡°Latanians are tougher than you and me, even their women,¡± the monk replied with a smile. ¡°Although, I¡¯ll be honest, this is the first time I¡¯ve had to deal with one of them being poisoned. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s anything different about their body.¡±

    Aldor nodded.

    ¡°Will you be okay here without me?¡±

    ¡°Of course. You¡¯ve done everything you can, Your Grace. Leave the poor girl to the doctors.¡±

    ¡°Agreed¡ªI¡¯m not much use here.¡± Aldor buttoned up his wool cloak. ¡°I¡¯m going to go look for the other body.¡±

    Mixing in more powder, the monk raised his brows questioningly.

    ¡°When the ambassador invited me to dinner, she had two partridges cooked. But the servants told her I don¡¯t like poultry, so she had them make something for me and give the other bird to the servants. I need to go see who else that Drinna blessed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be praying,¡± Aristid said with a quick nod.

    ¡°Pray for Her Grace. If she doesn¡¯t make it¡­ Heal her, and you¡¯ll save us all.¡±

 Chapter 17. Missolen

    Demos avoided speaking personally with Archella¡¯s people, leaving that to his bodyguards. They¡¯d long since been trusted aides as well, though he was about to break with tradition. The problem he was working on took complete mutual understanding and strict security.

    Back in the familiar gloom of his office, the treasurer was able to take a good look at the person standing with his back to the wall. He was a well-built, broad-shouldered man of average height with dark-brown hair trimmed short, and he was dressed unpretentiously and practically. A soldier¡¯s sword served as his weapon. Hearing Demos and Lahel, their guest turned. Devaton caught a sliver of a smile on the nondescript face covered in stubble.

    ¡°Is that him?¡± Demos asked Ihraz as the latter disappeared into the darkness.

    ¡°Yes. Master Archella sends his regards and put this man at your service.¡±

    Demos glanced at the spy.

    ¡°Master Sauli used to work with us. Why you this time?¡±

    His guest shrugged.

    ¡°Sauli¡ªhow do I say this?¡ªno longer meets the requirements of the guild. I took his place.¡±

    In other words, Master Sauli disappointed you.

    ¡°Your name?¡±

    ¡°Yun,¡± the guest replied with a short bow. ¡°Master Yun.¡±

    ¡°Are you a soldier?¡± Demos looked down at the spy¡¯s sword. ¡°That looks like an Osvendian blade, the kind they equip soldiers with up north.¡±

    ¡°Your knowledge of weapons flatters you, Your Grace. I was a scout near Belfur.¡±

    ¡°Why did you leave the service?¡±

    ¡°My contract ended. Galloping around woods and forests is important, but I found it boring. I wanted to work with my head and earn some extra coin. My introduction to Master Archella happened at the perfect time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine you¡¯re very familiar with the eastern part of the continent,¡± Devaton more stated than asked.

    ¡°I know every hole in Osvendis, and Belter is pretty close. I¡¯m less familiar with Rikenaar, but that can be remedied.¡±

    ¡°What about Targos?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s Rundkar,¡± Yun said with a gruff chuckle. ¡°The guild has eyes and ears everywhere.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Demos leaned on his cane, giving his leg a break. ¡°The job I need you to handle is a delicate one.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take it if it weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Sauli was the same way, though he clearly made a mistake.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°I¡¯m not Sauli,¡± came the quiet reply. ¡°I¡¯m much better than he was.¡±

    And you have a closet full of skeletons, I imagine.

    ¡°We shall see. I couldn¡¯t care less who in your guild thinks they¡¯re the best¡ªall I care about is the result.¡± The treasurer continued looking over the new spy. ¡°As far as the job goes, I need more than just your silence. I need you to not be seen in the first place. Disappear, move around imperceptibly, never leave any traces. Call that what you will, Master Yun, but I think we understand each other.¡±

    The response was a ready nod.

    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    ¡°All the better.¡± Demos sat down on a couch, took a drink of wine, and grimaced. The sweet Targosian wine exploded in his mouth and all over his teeth like a bomb made of honeycomb. ¡°This time, it¡¯s all about your ability to get information and find people. If everything goes as planned, you won¡¯t have to kill anyone.¡±

    ¡°Sounds a bit boring,¡± Yun replied. ¡°But you¡¯re the client. What¡¯s your price for the guild¡¯s work?¡±

    Devaton tapped wordlessly on the edge of the table with an overgrown fingernail. Ihraz, understanding the signal, showed the guest a box the size of two fists filled with gold aure from the imperial mint. The spy glanced over and whistled.

    ¡°I take back what I said. It¡¯s a very interesting offer indeed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the only kind I know,¡± Demos replied, running a finger over the scar near his ear the way he always did when he was thinking. ¡°Okay, you need to find a woman by the name of Sister Tanal.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a nun?¡±

    ¡°She may not look the part.¡± Devaton reached over to the table and pulled a medallion out of a drawer. It was adorned with a miniature portrait of a black-haired woman with a high forehead and a predatory look on her face. ¡°This picture is about five years old, though she¡¯s barely changed since then. She left the capital in secret to become a sister in the church. Also, she says she took the name Tanal and now belongs to the cloister in Ulfiss.¡±

    ¡°East of Osvendis¡­brutal,¡± Yun sighed as he looked over the portrait. ¡°A noble lady, I imagine.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea how noble. Well, you can probably guess. She¡¯s missing. Sauli went looking for her and reported back that she never showed up in Ulfiss, so now I¡¯m wondering which of them was lying.¡±

    The spy carefully placed the medallion in his pocket. Devaton slouched back on the cushions, unable to hold back a blissful smile.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a chance the woman set off secretly for Targos. I¡¯d like you to look for her there, too.¡±

    ¡°Targos¡­ I have friends there.¡±

    Demos took a small scroll off the table and handed it to Yun.

    ¡°Here are the names, positions, and addresses of people who might have helped her plan her escape. To start with, work them over, just do it secretly. Then, look for tracks in Targos. Report back to me personally.¡±

    The hireling studied the list before sticking it in his pocket, a satisfied look on his face.

    ¡°That¡¯s even better. We have somewhere to start.¡±

    ¡°You need to get information without drawing attention to yourself. Nothing else is important.¡±

    ¡°Will we be getting a deposit to cover our expenses?¡±

    Devaton pointed at the casket with the gold.

    ¡°There¡¯s your deposit right there,¡± he said with a laugh. ¡°I highly value the services of your guild.¡±

    ¡°All the gods, dead and alive! I¡¯ll tell you this right now: working with you is a joy and a pleasure.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll count on your complete dedication to the job.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve never given you reason to doubt us,¡± Yun grinned. ¡°Would you mind if I asked you one more question before I left?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead, Master Yun.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be easier for me if I know the woman¡¯s worldly name.¡±

    ¡°Empress Izara Targosian.¡±

    Not a single muscle on the hireling¡¯s face twitched.

    This guy has balls of steel.

    Yun carefully poured the gold out of the casket and into his pouch with a broad smile.

    ¡°Well, that explains everything. Turns out, I was right.¡±

    At least one of us can see this thing clearly. A luxury in times like this.

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Demos rubbed his eyes, fighting a sudden weakness that had come over him.

    By the dead gods, could you get out of here? I can barely hold myself upright.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be disappointed, Your Grace. Goodbye.¡±

    Master Yon bowed shortly and left the room via the open window.

 Chapter 18. Ellisdor

    The castle was at a standstill. The gates had been closed despite the protests of the people who hadn¡¯t left for the city in time, while the guard had been doubled. Even some troops newly arrived that morning were pressed into service. The servants who weren¡¯t under lock and key were walking on eggshells to avoid attracting the steward¡¯s wrath.

    On his way down to the kitchen, Aldor thought back once more to his incredibly good fortune. The courtesy of making a new dish had been all that had saved him.

    ¡°We need a tester,¡± he muttered to himself.

    The kitchen staff had been locked up in complete darkness. Absolutely everyone was in the cells¡ªcooks, maids, assistant boys. In the meantime, the baron was focused on finding that second partridge or, at the very least, its victim. The influx of refugees meant that every handful of grain was accounted for, and somebody had to have noticed the delectable aroma the roasted bird would have given off. But the kitchen servants swore up and down that they hadn¡¯t touched it. Judging by the fact that they were all in good health, they were probably telling the truth, too. Hans did the best he could, digging through all the jars and baskets in the kitchen, sticking his nose into all the vats of leftovers and trash. But there was nothing to be found.

    Taking a break, the baron stepped out into the inner courtyard, desperately needing fresh air and a few seconds of peace. His aide, nervously looking around, followed him. Regardless of the falling darkness, the courtyard was as packed as one might have expected the market square to be at noon¡ªservants ran around shouting, while soldiers glanced nervously into the tents the refugees had pitched against the walls.

    Aldor nodded in the direction of the tents and grimaced inquisitively. A guard shrugged, throwing his arms up. One noisy breath later, the baron headed quickly toward the refugees, though he was stopped suddenly when someone grabbed his arm. He turned around in annoyance to see a refugee woman with a vaguely familiar face.

    ¡°Forgive me, Your Grace,¡± she said. ¡°Hame and Uts, my kids. They¡¯re missing.¡±

    ¡°If you talk to one of the soldiers, they¡¯ll help.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t want to talk to us. I wouldn¡¯t be bothering you if they did.¡±

    The baron tried to gently extricate himself.

    ¡°There¡¯s a problem in the castle,¡± he said, his voice as calm as he could make it. ¡°We¡¯ve had to reinforce the guard, the gates are closed, and your children won¡¯t be going anywhere. Believe me, I would happily go looking for them myself, but I¡¯m really busy. Please, forgive me.¡±

    Finally, he awkwardly pulled his arm free of the worried mother¡¯s iron grasp.

    The woman hissed something angrily at him as he walked away. A pang of shame hit him¡ªhe really wanted to help her and would have if he could have, but there was no way right then.

    Two soldiers stepped up to him right then. By their weary faces, Aldor could tell they were from the detachment that had arrived that morning.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Your Grace, we found something.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Two boys.¡± One of the soldiers waved in the direction of a large woodshed. ¡°They were hiding in there.¡±

    ¡°Their mother was just looking for them. Let her know¡ªshe¡¯ll be happy to hear the good news.¡±

    The second soldier¡¯s face darkened.

    ¡°The boys are dead.¡±

    Hans turned pale. Looking around, Aldor made sure the refugee woman was far enough away that she couldn¡¯t have overheard the conversation.

    ¡°Show me.¡±

    They quickly crossed the courtyard and went around to the side of the woodshed. One of the soldiers handed Aldor a torch. Seeing the little bodies, the baron took a step back, though he gathered himself just as quickly. The pair bore a striking resemblance to their mother. One was light-haired and dirty, a couple years older than his towheaded brother. Aldor let out a mournful sigh. The boys¡¯ eyes were shut as if in sleep, drops of oil glistening on their half-opened mouths. Holding the torch closer, the baron poked open one of their mouths, revealing the same string of whitish foam he¡¯d seen on Irital¡¯s lips.

    ¡°And there¡¯s the second partridge,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Hans, let their mother know and come find me immediately in my office.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± The pale young servant stood up slowly and set off shakily in the direction of the tents.

    Baron Aldor den Grauer straightened heavily and walked toward the manor house on equally wobbly legs. He left the torch with the soldiers¡ªknowing every nook and cranny of the building as he did, there was no need for light.

    If Brother Aristid was right, the boys hadn¡¯t suffered. All he could do was hope that had been the case and pray for their souls. Later, the baron couldn¡¯t say what the people he walked past in the main hall were talking about, only vaguely remembering how he got to his chambers laden with a heavy sense of guilt.

    Aldor should¡¯ve done something earlier, back when Gregor had first mentioned his strange desire. But he hadn¡¯t. Instead, he¡¯d fancied himself the top dog, putting his friend¡¯s beloved in danger as a result. The move probably wouldn¡¯t have helped with the poisoner, but Aldor would have been able to say confidently that he¡¯d done everything possible to protect Lady Irital.

    But it was too late then. Although, maybe not completely.

    Hans was already waiting in the office. As soon as the baron opened the door suddenly, he took a scared step away from a cabinet and hid something behind his back.

    ¡°Show me what you¡¯re holding,¡± Aldor barked.

    The boy obeyed, and the steward saw a bottle of herbal liqueur he¡¯d grabbed from the Order¡¯s cellars. Aldor had held onto it in memory of the dark years. Also, he tended to prefer Gatson wine to the strong stuff Hans was holding.

    ¡°Forgive me, Master,¡± Hans said quietly. ¡°Everything that¡¯s happened today has me so scared, and I was afraid to take something from the kitchen. What if everything down there is poisoned?¡±

    The baron said nothing. Instead, he took two small glasses from a shelf, filled them both, and handed one to Hans.

    ¡°You could¡¯ve asked,¡± he finally replied reproachfully. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have said no.¡±

    ¡°I was ashamed. I won¡¯t do it again, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°You drink first.¡±

    Hans smiled grimly, understanding his master¡¯s request, and downed his glass in a single gulp. Tears appeared in his eyes.

    ¡°Oh¡­that¡¯s strong!¡± he croaked.

    The baron waited until he was sure Hans wasn¡¯t going to give up the ghost before drinking his and staggering a few steps. The liqueur really was strong, even enough to knock out a Rund. Aldor had forgotten what it was like.

    ¡°Better?¡± he asked when he caught his breath.

    ¡°Yes. It burns¡ªnasty.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to need you soon, so stay here.¡± The baron sat down, lit a few fat candles, pulled a ring with Voldhard¡¯s seal out of his pocket, and started writing a long letter.

    Once the ink was dry, Aldor handed the sealed package to Hans.

    ¡°Take the fastest horse you can find and leave today for Givoi. Give this to Artanna nar Toll, and don¡¯t come back without the Hundred, Hans. And please, I¡¯m begging you, hurry.¡±

 Chapter 19. Missolen

    My head hurts so bad.

    Chancellor Irving Allantain nodded curtly to the palace guard. When the heavy carved doors shut, announcing the start of the Small Council meeting, the old man looked around at those present and stared darkly at Gregor Voldhard. The young ruler of Highligland maintained his end of the wordless duel without a shadow of strain.

    That worried Demos.

    Is he really not afraid? That¡¯s a problem.

    At the center of the blindingly white hall, a place where the fate of the empire had been decided for hundreds of years, there was a table made out of a marble slab with deliberately uneven edges. Its surface was the size of a monastic cell and polished to a degree that it reflected the light beaming in through the stained-glass windows.

    It was at this table that Tallonius the Great signed the Criasmor Treaty with the first allies. Years later, his grandson, Tallonius the God-fearing, stood here and merged the powers of church and state. Forty years ago, the peace with Ennia was discussed. What else will the cold marble see? What will it bear witness to? People come and go, while countries are wiped from the face of the earth, build lasting peace, and form short alliances, and this piece of polished stone will outlast it all.

    The arches echoed with the sound of chairs being pulled out and settled into. The skeleton Small Council, most of which hadn¡¯t been permitted to join the day¡¯s meeting, sat down on the hard, throne-like seats. There was no other furniture in the room, nothing but carved columns ornamented in the ancient imperial style to complete the ascetic d¨¦cor.

    Allantain coughed and irritably adjusted the chain that marked him as the chancellor. Next to him, Military Master Ofron Allantain was wearing a uniform with burnished buttons and sporting a pomaded beard. Lord Irving¡¯s nephew locked eyes with Demos and gave him a nod of greeting and support.

    It¡¯s such a shame when your brother has much more capable children than you do. Ofron is a worthy man with strong principles and beliefs, rare for an aristocrat in our day. Bryce, the drunk, can¡¯t match up to his cousin no matter how many times he does backflips trying to prove himself. Still, he¡¯s the one destined to inherit Osvendis. That¡¯s a shame¡ªI¡¯d bet on Ofron. Maybe I will bet on him at some point, just not right now.

    On the other side of the chancellor sat Kartal Faruhad, the permanent First Secretary of the Chancellery and perhaps the most devious Rikenaarian Demos had ever met.

    Ass-licker. And an ass-lover, too, from what Archella¡¯s spies tell me. Enjoys dropping by fashionable Ennian brothels to have fun with the boys there. What a scandal the church might raise if our good secretary¡¯s proclivities were to be made public.

    Supreme Justice Ronal Shast, nose and all three chins proudly held high, was staring arrogantly at Gregor Voldhard.

    A salacious wuss who only cares about profit. I wonder how much all his many mistresses cost him. How many innocent people were sent to the block to please the city¡¯s wealthy? And are gold necklaces set with rubies and luxurious outfits worth the deal he made with his conscience? Anyway, I doubt his lovely courtesans are much troubled by how he came about the money he spends on them.

    Demos looked up at the church¡¯s most important representative in the empire as he graced the fateful meeting with his presence. Great Master Ladarius smiled briefly and shook hair so gray it would have been the envy of any Vagran.

    They say he¡¯s holy. A descendant of the ancients, of poor Belterian birth, who turned his back on lands in favor of saving souls and taking a surprising path to the top of the world¡¯s most powerful hierarchy. Everything about him exemplifies what the good followers of the Way are supposed to be like, and his words are like honey. But was god¡¯s vicar on earth able to hold onto his righteousness even as he emerged above the intrigue?

    The divine servant played with the crystal beads on his rosary with a look of detachment, though he couldn¡¯t hide from Demos that he was studying Gregor Voldhard carefully as the latter was presented to the Small Council.

    My dear cousin has something to say, the treasurer concluded as he glanced over at his relative¡¯s noble profile. And you don¡¯t have to be a seer to guess what it¡¯s about.

    The chancellor stood up with a groan and leaned a palm on the table.

    ¡°Sadly, it was not under these circumstances that I wished to see you all. But tragedy did strike, and we are now charged with deciding how to preserve the state and alliances until the new emperor takes the reins.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s he going to take the reins if he doesn¡¯t exist?¡± Shast asked lazily, more interested in how the light played in the many facets of the enormous sapphire on his ring.

    ¡°By coronation, of course,¡± Irving mumbled. ¡°But, to begin with, we must select him. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ll have any difficulty there¡ªare we in agreement?¡±

    Getting right down to business? What, trying to force Voldhard into a head-on attack?

    Demos snuck a glance at his cousin. Gregor¡¯s calm demeanor had been wiped clean away, and the Highliglander didn¡¯t even realize he was gripping the edge of the table for all he was worth. A little longer, and it looked like the marble slab was going to crumble in his powerful grasp. He met Devaton¡¯s gaze, pulled his hands away from the table sheepishly, and looked around slowly at the animated advisors.

    Upset that the adults made their decision without you? Welcome to Missolen, my dear cousin. Nobody needs you here.

    The chancellor¡¯s plan worked. Standing up, Gregor pulled a little air into his lungs and prepared to speak. Irving silenced the whispers with a wave and gestured toward Voldhard.

    ¡°Respected advisors, do I have the right to say my piece?¡± began the Highliglander.

    ¡°Of course, Your Grace. Everyone here within the walls of the White Hall has that right,¡± replied the chancellor with a condescending smile and a shrug of his brittle shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s the law.¡±

    Gregor nodded.

    ¡°In that case, I would like to make a statement.¡±

    Demos looked over at the giant wearily as the latter stood over the smooth, milky table. The colorful light filtering through the stained-glass windows fell on Gregor¡¯s face and split him into two parts: the yellow looked calm and young; the blue highlighted the bags under his eyes and his pale skin. Gregor fell silent as he searched for the right words. The advisors stared at the young duke in expectation, even Shast finally forgetting about his ring.

    Come on, do it. Say what we¡¯re all waiting for you to say. Go ahead, boy. Declare war.

    Gregor Voldhard crossed his arms over his chest and flashed a look of defiance at the chancellor.

    ¡°I would like to declare my right to the imperial throne,¡± he said firmly.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The tense silence suddenly enshrouding the room felt ready to burst into a thousand sparks. It only lasted a few seconds, but to Demos it was an eternity.

    Congratulations, dear cousin. We¡¯re now officially enemies.

    The arches shook as voices boomed. Louder than any, to Demos¡¯ surprise, was the First Secretary.

    ¡°On what basis?¡± Faruhad¡¯s look did nothing to conceal his contempt for Voldhard.

    ¡°As I¡¯ve been informed, the dead emperor did not leave any direct heirs. Additionally, and unfortunately, he was unable to name a successor. My meager knowledge of genealogy only follows two branches of close contenders for the throne: the Belterian line and the Highligland line. And that means¡ª¡±

    ¡°Demos Devaton and you, Lord Voldhard. At least, your older brother, were he alive,¡± said Lord Irving.

    ¡°An ambitious announcement,¡± grunted the supreme justice, his three chins shaking with the vibrations coming from his deep voice. ¡°I can understand your motive, Your Grace, but you have to understand our position, as well. For the first time in the three years that have passed since you gained your title, you are here in the capital, and you immediately lay claim to the imperial crown? You¡¯re a foreigner. Nobody knows anything about you besides that your mother was the dead emperor¡¯s sister, while your father was famed for his victories over the Runds. But who are you, Lord Gregor? A former pupil of the Order and a devout follower of the way, which, of course, does you great honor. But the rest of your biography does little to inspire the Small Council, as we haven¡¯t heard of a single great triumph over the barbarians at your command or success in the management of the duchy you inherited¡­¡±

    That¡¯s a lot of skepticism coming from someone with even less claim to the throne.

    Faruhad nodded, all business, in support of Shast¡¯s speech. On the other hand, Demos couldn¡¯t help but notice the military master¡¯s silence. Great Master Ladarius also refrained from chiming in. Devaton preferred to avoid joining the discussion, as well.

    I¡¯d be much more interested in finding out what kind of person that Gregor Voldhard is. What does he need the crown for? Why did he only now cross the sea and announce himself as a political player?

    The Highliglander, to his credit, controlled himself and bore up well under the criticism.

    ¡°Lord Gregor,¡± Irving said, gesturing for the justice to calm down, ¡°you are correct¡ªthe empire¡¯s hopes are on you and Lord Demos alone. And the law states that if there are multiple contenders for the throne, each with equal right, the council must select the worthiest.¡±

    ¡°And that is why I demand a vote,¡± Gregor replied with a nod. Demos noticed his hands still shaking from the stress.

    All alone against the empire¡¯s most powerful aristocrats. I¡¯d be shaking, too.

    ¡°However, that is only when the contenders have equal rights,¡± the chancellor continued. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is not the case here.¡±

    Here we go.

    ¡°What do you mean, Lord Irving?¡± Demos inched closer, placing his elbows on the table and leaning his chin on his interlaced fingers. That eased the pain in his back.

    Old Allantain nodded knowingly.

    ¡°Well, Your Grace, you and Lord Voldhard do not have equal right to the throne. The honorable ruler of Highligland is the son of Lady Viviana, sister to the emperor, and the middle son at that. You, on the other hand, are the eldest son of Lord Tennius, the emperor¡¯s brother.¡±

    ¡°But Lord Gregor is the oldest of Lady Viviana¡¯s living children,¡± the Belterian said. ¡°What¡¯s keeping us from voting?¡±

    Allantain shrugged. ¡°His mother, I¡¯m afraid. In all the history of the empire, there are no cases where the throne was inherited by descendants on the mother¡¯s side. Tallonius the Great, as well, made that law, something you should know, Lord Demos.¡±

    ¡°But his order regarded the direct line, speaking of the emperor¡¯s wives, sisters, and daughters. There¡¯s nothing there about the crown not going to their descendants.¡± Demos turned to Shast. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the case, good Justice?¡±

    The latter twitched.

    ¡°That is a question that needs looking into,¡± he replied thoughtfully.

    Go ahead, but you won¡¯t find anything new. I read all the proceedings and orders.

    ¡°So, Lord Demos, you are standing up for your rival?¡± Great Master Ladarius put his rosary aside. The crystal beads clattered on the table. ¡°You don¡¯t want the crown?¡±

    Devaton smiled amiably.

    ¡°It¡¯s not important what I want¡ªI¡¯m a Devaton. The mission of my house is to act in service to the emperor and the state. The duty of the Small Council and every subject of the empire is to dig into the situation we find ourselves in, study the circumstances, and act in accordance with the law; my personal duty is to ensure that occurs.¡±

    Gregor Voldhard glanced at his cousin with a mixture of surprise and distrust, though he didn¡¯t say anything. Irving coughed.

    ¡°So, Lord Demos, you suggest we study every tome in the imperial libraries in order to find a rebuttal to or confirmation of the Duke of Highligland¡¯s claim to the throne.¡± The old man¡¯s brows were raised. Demos, in turn, could have sworn that the chancellor was thoroughly enjoying the game, what with the enormous stakes in play. ¡°Well, as you are known to be a frequent visitor there, I move that we give this assignment to you and the supreme justice.¡±

    Ha! You want the initiative to collapse around the initiator? Don¡¯t even think you¡¯re going to get me like that.

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Demos smiled again, the pink folds on the burned side of his face glistening. ¡°Regardless of the warm feelings I have for Lord Gregor, I remain his rival. It would be far more reasonable to give the job to Lord Shast¡¯s justices.¡±

    Who can always be bought or gotten rid of. Plus, books burn just as easily as last wills.

    The supreme justice twisted his face into a grimace, though he didn¡¯t dare object.

    ¡°An excellent idea,¡± he said instead. ¡°My people will do their best.¡±

    Demos furtively rubbed his aching leg under the table. The stuffiness had invaded even the hall they were in, and his thinking was starting to cloud. His migraine intensified; his stomach turned. With an effort of will, he forced himself to straighten up and address the chancellor.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to remind everyone that Eclusum is home to an expansive library with thousands of books and scrolls. The legal codes we inherited from the moment the empire was founded should be there.¡± Demos¡¯ temples pounded, and he was seeing stars. ¡°Given the delicacy of the situation, would the great master be in favor of a visit by the justices?¡±

    Ladarius smiled radiantly.

    ¡°All you have to do is ask, Your Grace. Eclusum will do all it can to help. The church, after all, is nothing without the state, and it is our goal to strengthen the empire.¡±

    Of course, since I¡¯m not the only contender for the throne¡ªthere¡¯s someone from the Order who will be easy to manage. But I need to buy time right now, and this is my only move.

    Irving nodded approvingly.

    ¡°Excellent idea, Lord Demos. We¡¯ll split the job up between the laymen and the servants of the church in the hopes that we will find clarity that much faster.¡±

    But why does it not occur to anybody that even the holies can be bought? It¡¯s just a matter of their price.

    Gregor plopped down onto his chair in relief. He looked exhausted.

    Oh, you¡¯ll howl and beg to be sent back to war if you happen to become emperor. If.

    The chancellor stood back up and addressed Gregor after looking around the room with a tired look in his watery eyes.

    ¡°So, it¡¯s decided. The justices and masters will study the legality of your claim, though I don¡¯t see any reason to keep Your Grace in Missolen until they¡¯re finished. Return to Highligland and defend the border from Rund attacks. You have my word that the Small Council will send word as soon as we have clarity.¡±

    And at that point, we¡¯ll think up a plausible reason to artfully rid ourselves of you.

    ¡°Needless to say, until the new emperor is crowned, order in the empire will be kept by the Small Council,¡± Irving continued. ¡°Today¡¯s meeting is adjourned.¡±

    The advisors pushed back their hard chairs with a quiet murmur and a look of indescribable relief on their faces. Demos stood up, leaned on his cane, and nearly lost his balance on the slippery floor. Gregor hurried over to help his cousin, grabbing him by the arm. The Highliglander leaned over to Devaton¡¯s ear.

    ¡°Why did you do that?¡±

    ¡°Would you have done anything differently?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m nobody to you.¡±

    Demos spread his lips into a creepy smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. You, Lord Gregor, are my cousin and rival.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s true, why did you make it harder on yourself?¡±

    You have a point. But this is the move, so I¡¯m seeing it through.

    ¡°Oh, Your Grace, honesty in politics is like the legends about demons who have never walked our lands. Win or lose, I want to do it with dignity.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected such honor here,¡± the Highliglander replied with surprise.

    ¡°People are full of surprises, Lord Gregor. My advice to you is to avoid judging books by their cover,¡± Devaton shrugged. ¡°Especially in the White City.¡±

    The Ennians met Demos as he walked out of the hall. Both Ihraz and Lahel had their faces covered with the usual colorful handkerchiefs.

    ¡°Ennians¡­ You have good guards.¡± Gregor glanced at the scimitars Demos¡¯ companions were armed with, his interest unfeigned.

    ¡°And, fortunately, not given to speech. My mother was born in Ennia, and they were her best present to me.¡±

    ¡°I hope they protect you, cousin. Goodbye.¡± Voldhard bowed grandly and disappeared around a corner.

    If only they could protect me from myself.

    Looking around, Demos noticed Irving talking about something with Shast and Faruhad, his tone animated, while Ladarius floating gracefully by to join his entourage. He gave a final blessing to the advisors.

    Demos squinted over at the chancellor¡¯s lively conversation.

    You bought us time, but we can¡¯t underestimate Gregor Voldhard. I¡¯m afraid I still don¡¯t understand who we¡¯re up against.

 Chapter 20. The free city Givoi

    ¡°The viceroy would only like to see Tanor and Artanna.¡± The guard cut every word cleanly from his position blocking the entrance to the town hall. ¡°Only the leaders, you idiots!¡±

    The Hundred leader was lounging right there on the wide wooden steps, her eyes on the Brotherhood leader as he bickered with the adamant guard. She did her best to calm herself down, though her hands betrayed her nerves. Anyone watching carefully would have seen her fumble irritably at the sleeve she¡¯d rolled up her left arm¡ªshe couldn¡¯t figure out where her bracelet had gone.

    Artanna was beside herself. It may have been just a bauble, but her arm felt bare without it, and the simple silver band was all she had left from her family. Even her two exquisite Vagran daggers had been given to her by Lord Rolf. For whatever reason, the duke often gave her different trinkets from her homeland, most likely in an effort to keep her spirits up. But in all the years they¡¯d spent together, Rolf had never realized that she didn¡¯t miss home. To the contrary, once out of the country, the Vagran girl did her best to erase the first seventeen years of her life, adjusting instead to new ways. What¡¯s the point of holding on to the past if you can¡¯t bring it back? Still, Artanna had never been strong enough to say goodbye to all her memories. That was why she never took the bracelet off.

    Ultimately, the memory of who you are can occasionally save your worthless behind.

    The Hundred fighters had made themselves comfortable on the steps and railing next to their commander. Some were smoking pipes, others were checking their blades, still more were glaring over at the Brotherhood rabble. Artanna had five hirelings with her; for some reason, Tanor had brought a crowd. That had the merchants nervous, not to mention their customers, and everyone¡¯s mood was ruined on what was a warm spring day.

    ¡°Is he really afraid of us now?¡± The Vagran woman squinted at Tanor, smiling coldly when their eyes met.

    Shrain was cleaning his nails with a small knife. ¡°He probably wants us to be afraid of him. His head has always been a few sizes too big.¡±

    ¡°It helps that Tanor is predictable, unlike his deputies. The Chironis have me worried,¡± Vezzam said as he kicked a small rock down the steps. ¡°That¡¯s the real brotherhood¡ªnot Tanor, but those slippery Gatsons.¡±

    Artanna grabbed Shrain¡¯s knife and stuck it in her boot.

    ¡°You can usually find common ground with Gatsons. They like to talk.¡±

    ¡°Sure, while one¡¯s talking your ear off, the second comes around behind you, pulls out his knife, and¡­¡± The giant drew a finger across his throat. ¡°Get the pyre ready, sing the funeral hymns¡ªhe was a good guy.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let him behind you, and everything will be fine.¡± Artanna stood up, looked past Shrain¡¯s shaved head, and frowned.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Vezzam asked.

    ¡°Our recent acquaintance.¡±

    Jert came over slowly, bowing in a clownish greeting. His scimitar¡¯s elegant hilt glinted in the bright sunlight.

    ¡°Hi there, Commander.¡±

    ¡°What do you need? We don¡¯t have time for you right now.¡±

    ¡°I missed you,¡± the Ennian replied with a smile. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m here to help.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a bit too much to expect from a stranger?¡±

    The midday sun was so blinding that Artanna was having a hard time really looking the Ennian over. His smile broadened even further.

    ¡°I surprise myself, too. But be honest¡ªyou need me right now,¡± he replied, and Vezzam exchanged a glance with Shrain. ¡°I¡¯ll tell the viceroy everything I saw.¡±

    Artanna leaned forward, her expression intrigued. Their new acquaintance was tall and built well, if no giant. His gait was easy, his movements measured like a trained fighter.

    ¡°You do realize that you¡¯re going to turn half Givoi against you in one fell swoop if you join my side, don¡¯t you?¡± the Vagran asked.

    The Ennian looked up at the sky and sighed.

    ¡°Do you really think I care? I already picked a commander, and if you come with a few enemies lumped in, so be it. That¡¯s the cost of doing business.¡±

    ¡°Things certainly move quickly with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, stop it. You¡¯re going to like me. Anyway, whose blood do we use to sign the contract?¡±

    ¡°Easy there, I haven¡¯t agreed to anything yet. You promised me something¡­¡±

    ¡°The important thing is that I saw something. The night before your healer was killed, three people were following him. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡±

    He was interrupted by the thick oaken doors of the town hall creaking open, and a second later Guiro stepped out of the building¡¯s gloomy interior. The Vagran woman pulled herself to her feet in a hurry. Tanor, in turn, finally shut up, turning to look at the viceroy¡¯s aide expectantly. Guiro measured up both mercenaries with a long glance before inviting them in.

    ¡°Signor Kirino is expecting you. Hand over your weapons.¡±

    Artanna handed her men her daggers and sword, pulled knives out of both boots, and, after pausing to think, slid a slender chain out of her pocket, one that often found a use for itself. Tanor did the same. In fact, a count¡¯s armory would have been envious of his arsenal.

    Jert relaxed on the stairs a bit farther away, closed his eyes, smiled as the warm sunlight bathed his face, and completely ignored the proceedings.

    ¡°Sit here. They may call you later.¡± The mercenary woman nudged the Ennian with the toe of her shabby boot before nodding to Shrain and Vezzam. ¡°Try to make sure those two don¡¯t kill you. I¡¯m not a big fan of bodies.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s odd, considering your profession,¡± Jert replied lazily without so much as a glance in the woman¡¯s direction.

    The viceroy was awaiting his visitors behind a long oaken table. The elongated hall on the town hall¡¯s second floor was heated by the midday sun, the doors to the balcony thrown wide, and a light breeze carrying in the smells and noises of the street. Artanna sniffed as she sat down on a bench polished to a shine by hundreds of important behinds. Tanor sat across from the viceroy at a safe distance from the Vagran. His leather pants creaked ominously.

    Kirino looked cheerful, though he was wearing a cloak made of wool that was unusually thick given the weather. Pendants resplendent with amethysts dangled from a heavy chain that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. Placing his elbows on the table, the viceroy leaned his head on his hands.

    ¡°God as my witness, I don¡¯t want to see a war in the city today,¡± he started quietly.

    ¡°Nobody would make money if that happened,¡± Tanor smiled.

    ¡°We can bargain later,¡± Artanna cut in. ¡°As soon as we figure out why a peaceful person and honest healer was killed in Tanor¡¯s territory, presumably, by his people.¡±

    Tanor looked at the Hundred leader indignantly.

    ¡°Is that how you speak with the viceroy?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to him. We¡¯re here to figure out what happened, and I want to hear your excuses in the presence of Signor Kirino.¡±

    The viceroy looked like he¡¯d just bitten down on a lemon.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, Madam Toll¡¯s statement is correct,¡± he said. ¡°We checked it out¡ªI¡¯m afraid the healer by the name of Rianos, who served in the Hundred, was killed on land entrusted to the Brotherhood.¡±

    Tanor clenched his fists and started to rise slowly from the bench.

    ¡°I¡¯d keep the genie in the bottle if I were you,¡± Artanna said as calmly as she could, given the circumstances.

    ¡°Oh, I think the bottle is more your thing.¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Kirino brought a fist crashing down on the table with surprising force. ¡°We get the same circus every time with you two. I¡¯m waiting, Master Tanor. Why was the foundry quarter not under guard the way it should have been?¡±

    ¡°I swear, my people were sent there. A patrol of three mercenaries took their shift after dinner, all according to the schedule we have in our books,¡± the hireling replied, pulling a small paper out of his jacket pocket and handing it to the viceroy. ¡°I looked over everything yesterday myself, and our clerk made a copy. We had Rindu the Rotten, Seryan the Limp, and Sagmo Crooked Scar on duty. They didn¡¯t see anything.¡±

    Artanna raised a brow and looked over at Kirino expressively.

    ¡°Interesting¡­ Very interesting, in fact.¡±

    ¡°Do you have something to say, Artanna?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Today, I had someone tell me they saw the healer that night, and you know what the best part is, Tanor? He¡¯s sitting downstairs and waiting to be called.¡± Artanna glanced over at the Brotherhood badge lying in front of the viceroy.

    ¡°You have a witness?¡± Kirino asked with a frown.

    ¡°Yes, an Ennian named Jert. He says he saw three people following Rianos that night.¡±

    The viceroy nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to speak with him.¡±

    ¡°If my fighters haven¡¯t broken any of his bones yet for his insolence, we can arrange that,¡± Artanna replied with a wave toward the balcony. ¡°He¡¯s out there.¡±

    The viceroy looked past Tanor at Guiro, who was standing by the door.

    ¡°Federigo, please invite the witness up.¡±

    The aide bowed wordlessly and disappeared behind the oaken door. Kirino turned his colorless eyes on the Brotherhood leader.

    ¡°Master Tanor, doesn¡¯t that seem odd to you?¡±

    ¡°It seems odd to me that some foreigner wants to set me up!¡± the mercenary shot back, then jabbed a finger in Artanna¡¯s direction. ¡°Or maybe you hired him to make me look like an idiot in front of the viceroy! I¡¯m telling you, Signor Kirino, those three have been with me for a long time¡ªI know them. They¡¯d never kill without my orders, especially someone from the Hundred, and I didn¡¯t give that order.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t give the order to kill Vazash, the carpenter, and he¡¯s still dead,¡± Artanna replied.

    The viceroy stared at Tanor. ¡°Only your troops can shed light on this convoluted story. Call them immediately.¡±

    Tanor shook his head gloomily.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s impossible, Signor Kirino.¡±

    ¡°And why is that?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re missing. Rotten, Limp, and Crooked Scar, all three of them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s convenient,¡± the Vagran said. ¡°Smart enough to make a break for it, I guess.¡±

    ¡°And what, in your opinion, would make them disappear?¡± Signor Kirino took a swallow of wine before looking over at Artanna. The woman tracked Tanor¡¯s every move warily. ¡°People don¡¯t just vanish.¡±

    The Brotherhood leader creaked in his pants as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench.

    ¡°I have no idea, Signor. Those louts got paid regularly, but they¡¯re hirelings. Throw a few gold coins their way, and they¡¯ll sell their own mother, not to mention abandoning the brigade. I don¡¯t know where they went.¡±

    The oaken door creaked open. Jert walked in, with Federigo behind, shooing him in. Artanna was finally able to examine the foreign guest and found that he was a physical specimen. His permanent smirk tightened the tan skin on his cheeks, his cheekbones stood out, and his narrow green eyes were framed by a network of wrinkles. There was, however, something behind the feigned joviality, though Artanna had no desire to dig any deeper. The Ennian smiled amiably to Kirino and suddenly bowed so gracefully that it looked like he¡¯d spent his whole life bending before noble masters.

    ¡°Have a seat, Master Jert.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind standing.¡± The foreigner¡¯s slipped over to Artanna¡¯s neckline. ¡°Some things are better seen from above, you know?¡±

    The Vagran rewarded him with a withering look.

    ¡°You were called to tell your story about the healer, the one you saw the night he was killed,¡± the viceroy said. ¡°Be so kind as to repeat everything you told Lady Toll.¡±

    Jert squinted, staring at the Hundred leader. The latter pulled herself away from contemplating the fireplace, arched her brows, and shrugged, motioning for him to speak.

    ¡°Bring me the Holy Book,¡± the Ennian said. ¡°I follow the Way, and I¡¯m prepared to swear that I¡¯m telling the truth.¡±

    Kirino looked at the foreigner in surprise.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°I heard they don¡¯t worship the Keeper in Ennia.¡±

    ¡°No, but I like him. I started my journey in the Sifares temple thirteen years ago.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± the viceroy nodded. ¡°Federigo, have the book brought.¡±

    The Ennian quickly and fluently said a prayer in the ancient tongue to everyone¡¯s amazement. His imperial was good, too. Too good for a simple soldier from Ennia, the kind of person he wanted to appear to be.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see much,¡± Jert started. ¡°Forgive me, Viceroy, but I wanted to try pashtara that night. The locals said there was a place not far from the foundries where they sell it, and as I was walking there, I saw the healer carrying a loaded basket. Three hirelings were following him at a distance¡ªI recognized the Brotherhood chevrons.¡±

    ¡°What did they look like?¡± Tanor asked quickly.

    ¡°One limped on his left leg. Another was tall and thin. The third had a scar across almost his entire face.¡±

    ¡°Those are mine,¡± Pops replied gruffly. ¡°What else did you see?¡±

    ¡°That was it, I¡¯m afraid. I saw them talking quietly with each other and pointing at the Ennian healer. They had weapons with them, but they didn¡¯t pull them out. That¡¯s when I saw the alley I was looking for and headed off for my pashtara.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Jert,¡± the viceroy said with a nod before turning to stare directly at Tanor. ¡°What do you have to say for yourself?¡±

    The Brotherhood leader was dumbfounded.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anything!¡± he screeched girlishly as he leaped to his feet. His leather jacket groaned, threatening to burst at the seams. ¡°His word means nothing, even if he did swear on the Holy Book!¡±

    ¡°Tell that to my old employers in Sifares,¡± the Ennian grinned. ¡°Quite a few people would disagree with you.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t Sifares,¡± Tanor hissed. ¡°You¡¯re a stranger in Givoi.¡±

    Artanna smiled, enjoying the look of confusion on her rival¡¯s face.

    ¡°But why would this good fellow lie to the viceroy himself?¡±

    ¡°Maybe because you paid him.¡±

    ¡°That could be,¡± the Vagran replied, ¡°if it weren¡¯t for the fact that I don¡¯t have any extra money. You can ask anyone working at the Gatson bank.¡±

    ¡°Who cares?¡± Tanor asked with a roll of his eyes. ¡°You can always find a little silver to make someone blab.¡±

    ¡°By the way, you promised me payment for my information today, and I¡¯d appreciate it¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Artanna barked at Jert. ¡°We¡¯ll figure you out later.¡±

    Kirino slammed a fist down on the table again, once more so hard that Tanor and Artanna jumped in surprise. The Ennian smiled.

    ¡°Is the viceroy allowed to talk?¡±

    The mercenaries fell silent, though they continued staring daggers at each other.

    ¡°If you want a circus, wait until the fair season starts. In the meantime, be so kind as to listen to me.¡±

    Jert saw the Hundred leader¡¯s face tighten. Tanor gripped his armrests with fat fingers and paled from the stress, though it didn¡¯t look like he noticed either change. The only thing breaking the silence was the monotone buzzing of a fly as it threw itself against the windowpanes.

    ¡°I¡¯ve come to a preliminary decision.¡± The viceroy looked around the room and nodded curtly to his aide. ¡°We have reason to believe that the trio who killed Rianos, the healer from the Hundred, were Brotherhood people, Master Tanor. According to your contract, you bear responsibility for their actions in Givoi, if not complete responsibility, of course. If the three mercenaries are proven party to the murder of an innocent man, they will accept their punishment. On the executioner¡¯s block. When they¡¯re found.¡±

    Artanna nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s excellent, but what¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not finished,¡± Kirino said sharply. ¡°With you, Tanor, the situation is more complicated. Let¡¯s put aside the murder and look at the facts. Givoi, as represented by the council of signors, hired your troops to enforce order in the streets. The foundry quarter is on the list of areas you were entrusted to secure. You failed to do so, you permitted a man to be killed, and, what is worse, you turned out to hire very poor people.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your reasons and excuses mean nothing to me. The internal conflicts going on in the Brotherhood aren¡¯t my problem, and they shouldn¡¯t affect innocent civilians. The turmoil in your group is the direct cause of what happened. Because of that, I¡¯m forced to act: if you don¡¯t restore order within your ranks in the very near future, you can say goodbye to your contract.¡± A triumphant smirk flitted across Artanna¡¯s face. Tanor froze, his tiny eyes widened, and he stared unblinking at Kirino. The viceroy took a few sips of wine before wiping his beard slowly, putting his cup down, and continuing. ¡°From this day on, the foundry quarter is under the protection of the Hundreds. And pray that it¡¯s the only area the Brotherhood loses.¡±

    Tanor gritted his teeth and threw a look of rage at the Vagran, though he said nothing.

    ¡°You will compensate the Hundreds, as represented by Artanna nar Toll, the amount she deems fair for the loss of their healer, though no more than five imperial aure,¡± the viceroy said. ¡°The contract with the Brotherhood will be reviewed at the next council of the signors, at which you will make a public apology for your negligence. That is all.¡±

    The Brotherhood leader¡¯s face darkened. He lifted his chin proudly and looked directly at Kirino.

    ¡°In what regard will my contract be reviewed?¡±

    ¡°The signors may cut the cost of your services or refuse them altogether,¡± the viceroy replied with a shrug. ¡°When we meet at the next new moon, you¡¯ll hear our decision.¡±

    Tanor cracked his knuckles and turned to the Vagran.

    ¡°What compensation will satisfy you?¡±

    ¡°Your balls nailed to the gates of my manor, that would satisfy me,¡± Artanna said without a shadow of sarcasm. ¡°But Signor Kirino wouldn¡¯t approve of that¡ªI can see by the look on his face. And so, I¡¯ll be forced to live with the five aure you¡¯ll deliver at sunset.¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Tanor yelled. ¡°That¡¯s a fortune!¡±

    The mercenary woman leaped up and bounded over to the head of the Brotherhood.

    ¡°You think I¡¯m kidding you? Your people killed two of mine¡ªfirst Vazash, and now Rianos.¡± She straightened up and stepped away. ¡°Five aure isn¡¯t nearly enough, but it¡¯s something. Learn how to pick people or pay for their mistakes.¡±

    ¡°I can nail his balls to your gate if you want,¡± Jert said with a smile.

    ¡°You just worry about your own,¡± the Hundred leader shot back.

    ¡°Okay, so, five aure or the equivalent in silver, and the conflict is resolved,¡± the viceroy said. ¡°My only requirement is that Signor Guiro is to witness the handover, so we don¡¯t have any more questions.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Kirino pulled himself slowly to his feet and headed toward the door.

    ¡°That¡¯s it. Until next time.¡±

    The viceroy walked out, his long mantle trailing behind him. Jert, who was standing by the door, bowed gracefully. After watching the old man leave, a frown on his face, Tanor turned to look at Artanna. The Vagran was stretching her cramped muscles.

    ¡°See you at sunset,¡± she said, preparing to leave as well.

    The Brotherhood leader stood slowly, his eyes never leaving his rival.

    ¡°You arranged the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. I just did my best with the cards I was handed. Believe me, I¡¯d give up a lot more than five aure to get Rianos back. We¡¯re parting in peace this time, but don¡¯t you dare cross me again, Tanor. The next time, I¡¯ll follow through on that threat and actually nail your balls to my manor gate.¡±

    Tanor stepped over to Artanna, though she just calmly looked him in the eye.

    ¡°You lost one guy; I lost three fighters.¡±

    ¡°My healer was worth an entire squad, and he was my friend.¡± Artanna crossed her hands over her chest, smiled sadly, and walked over to the window. ¡°Stop the antics and just admit you were wrong. You lost, Tanor. Pick up the remains of your dignity and accept it like a man.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to lose¡ªyou know that,¡± the Brotherhood leader whispered quietly, almost tenderly, as he crept up behind her. ¡°You embarrassed me, and I can¡¯t let that go.¡±

    Jert saw the mercenary pull a dagger out of the folds in his leather jacket. But there wasn¡¯t enough time to do anything.

    ¡°Knife!¡± the Ennian barked, sliding a hidden blade out of his own boot.

    Tanor took a swing, but Artanna was able to dodge in time. The mercenary cursed as his blade sliced through thin air.

    Federigo Guiro stared at the fighters in shock.

    ¡°What the devil? You were supposed to give up your weapons!¡±

    ¡°Should have done a better job checking,¡± Jert snarled. ¡°Get help, Signor. Hurry!¡±

    The Gatson disappeared immediately into the hallway.

    ¡°Vagran whore!¡± Tanor bellowed. ¡°Think you¡¯re going to take the whole city?¡±

    Artanna took a few steps backward without taking her eyes off her opponent¡¯s weapon. Jert called over and tossed her his dagger.

    ¡°Just don¡¯t even think about losing it, Commander! It means a lot to me.¡±

    Too busy ducking away from Tanor¡¯s attack and leaping to the side, Artanna didn¡¯t reply. Suddenly, she banged into a bench she missed, overturning several chairs. The Ennian¡¯s blade slid across the floorboards and came to a stop right next to her leg.

    Jert leaned up against the wall to watch the fun calmly. It was time to see how lucky the woman was.

    ¡°Not going to help?¡± the Vagran woman screeched, dodging another blow and gripping the weapon comfortably.

    ¡°I already did!¡± Jert grinned. ¡°You¡¯re on your own from here.¡±

    ¡°Bastard.¡± Artanna barked grimly and leaped over the bench, evading yet another strike.

    She weighed half as much as Tanor and was twice as nimble, but he was stronger. Still, the odds were decent for her. As long as she was able to penetrate his thick leather armor with her little knife¡­ Artanna landed on the floor and spun around quickly. All that stood between her and the livid mercenary was the wide table, though behind her were nothing more than windows and the balcony. She was out of room to maneuver.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Tanor said. ¡°Stop playing the coward! Fight me, duke¡¯s whore!¡±

    ¡°Official mistress, for your information. Not that you see any difference.¡±

    The mercenary was slowing down. He leisurely moved around the table, took a lazy swing, stepped heavily¡­ Artanna dodged that attack, as well. Almost dancing, she dipped past him and slashed at the straps holding his thick leather shell in place. When Tanor turned quickly in an attempt to follow her, she buried her forehead in the bridge of his nose. He howled, awkwardly sweeping his blade through the air. Artanna¡¯s face spread into a crazed smile, and she seized the moment when Tanor opened up to give him as hard a kick as she could muster straight to the groin. Not very sporting, but highly effective. He doubled over, grabbed his codpiece with both hands, and dropped his blade. The Vagran woman leaped over and kicked the weapon away.

    ¡°What do you say, sweetie? Still want to kill me?¡±

    ¡°If I were him, I¡¯d want to kill you even more,¡± Jert said thoughtfully. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a little crazy in you.¡±

    ¡°Only when people want to slit my throat.¡±

    Artanna stuck the dagger in her belt and walked out onto the balcony past a wheezing Tanor. She needed to clear her head, let the blood settle. Suddenly, she could smell all the aromas coming up from the city, feel every gust of wind blowing in from the river, and hear the murmur of hundreds of voices. Artanna shook her head to get rid of the feeling.

    Jert walked over to the railing, and the Vagran woman noticed that for the first time since they had met, he wasn¡¯t wearing a smile. The Ennian was as serious as a master giving a sermon.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he asked quietly.

    ¡°Just your usual knife fight between mercenaries,¡± Artanna replied with a shrug. ¡°Welcome to Givoi.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m talking about. You move really quickly.¡±

    ¡°Tanor likes his food a bit too much.¡±

    ¡°You know, I was a fast fighter, one of the fastest in Sifares. But you move like a demon, by Arzimat¡¯s hole.¡±

    A distant smile continued playing on Artanna¡¯s lips. The woman was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling under her stained white shirt.

    ¡°If all of you are that fast, I don¡¯t stand a chance,¡± Jert said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never fought a Vagran?¡±

    They both turned, distracted by noise from the hall. The doors flew open with a bang to let in several guards, the viceroy, and his aide. Artanna took a deep breath.

    ¡°Here we go¡­¡±

    ¡°For the love of all that is holy, what¡¯s going on in here?¡± Kirino roared.

    ¡°Tanor didn¡¯t want to share.¡± The Vagran threw her arms wide, continuing to smile as she did. ¡°He threatened me with a knife, can you imagine that? The bastard. Seriously, have you ever seen anything like that?¡±

    Jert went over to the viceroy.

    ¡°Signor Kirino, that guy tried to kill her. He brought a dagger in with him, and it¡¯s only Artanna¡¯s good luck that I did, too. Signor Guiro saw it all.¡±

    The old man looked furiously at the guards. They stared at their boots in sheepish silence.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected an indiscretion like that from you, Master Tanor,¡± the viceroy said. ¡°All you¡¯re doing is complicating your position.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late to change anything, Signor Kirino,¡± the mercenary wheezed as he pulled himself to his feet. ¡°I made my choice; the die is cast. You know what everybody has always valued most about me? I finish what I start.¡±

    As he was wrapping up his short speech, Tanor straightened up and moved slowly toward the balcony. Then, he jumped around the guards and hurled himself forward, leaving the Hundred leader no time to evade him.

    Jert didn¡¯t realize what was happening at first. The enormous body flew at Artanna, and all the Ennian saw was her shock of gray hair go flying. The pair smashed through the wooden railing out on the balcony and hurtled downward, just a second after the mercenary woman¡¯s shirt caught on a nail sticking out. But the sound of fabric tearing was quickly drowned out by howls, cursing, and the crash of the entire scene hitting the ground below.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Jert yelled as he ran over to the edge the two had toppled over. Guiro gasped and cursed; the viceroy hobbled over and stared at the ground beneath them in silence.

    The crowd outside the doors had scattered. Blinded by the dust that had been kicked up, the fighters were grabbing for their weapons as the commoners raced to get away. The Brotherhood leader was on his back, his pants torn, and a yellowish bone sticking out of his right leg. His breastplate had been thrown off to the side. Artanna, in turn, was sitting atop him and slamming his head into the ground. Vagran profanities accompanied every hit.

    ¡°Shit is right,¡± the viceroy said.

    ***

    For some reason, Artanna was being pulled off the lout, though she ripped herself free and threw a punch in reply. Only then did she realize that he was one of hers.

    ¡°Get off me!¡±

    ¡°Leave him alone!¡± It must have been Shrain. Or Vezzam. She couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°Get out of here, bastard!¡±

    She kept battering away at the pulp that was Tanor¡¯s face. He was still breathing, a hearty scoundrel.

    Somebody buried their boot in her face. Artanna flew off to the side, choking on a mix of blood and saliva; did a somersault; coughed; and wiped her nose with the dusty back of her hand. Jert stood above her.

    ¡°What are you doing, you idiot?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him!¡± the Vagran gritted in reply as she stood up.

    Jert gave her a backhand across the side of her face. She staggered and nearly lost her balance.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on with you?¡±

    ¡°I warned him, I warned him¡­¡±

    She was breathing heavily. Blood was running down her face from a cut on her eyebrow, and a string of drool hung from a corner of her mouth. The pain she hadn¡¯t been feeling started to creep in. With each second, it was like a weight pressed down harder and harder on her shoulders, mashing her into the ground. The lightness was gone. Artanna wheezed, grimaced when a spasm came over her, fell to her knees, and vomited.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Vezzam¡¯s voice whispered from right next to her ear. Somebody grabbed her under her arms.

    ¡°Better than I was in Rundkar,¡± she replied. ¡°Let me go.¡±

    Shrain¡¯s paw held her wrist in a steel vice.

    ¡°Let Tanor be,¡± he boomed.

    ¡°Screw him, Baby. I want to get cleaned up.¡±

    ¡°You need to get yourself checked out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Artanna waved him away, wobbled slightly, and turned to the viceroy as he stepped closer. ¡°Would you be okay with having the money delivered to my manor? I suddenly don¡¯t feel like coming back here again today.¡±

    Kirino nodded silently.

    Tanor was taken away by his people, among which Artanna noticed the Chironi brothers¡¯ dark mops. The pair stared intently, if silently at her. Out of the blue, someone handed her a skin of water¡ªshe used it to clean some of the blood off her face. The guards were busy getting the bystanders moving along.

    Artanna stepped down the steps to the town hall, called Jert over, and handed him his dagger.

    ¡°You may have helped save my skin today. Thanks.¡±

    The Ennian looked the blade over carefully before slipping it into his belt.

    ¡°I like you better alive.¡±

    ¡°No second thoughts about joining the Hundred?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll take me?¡±

    ¡°That depends on you. You were hinting about something last time, and now¡¯s as good a time as any to make good on your word. A little more, and I¡¯m going to pass out.¡±

    Jert smiled and stuck his hand into his jacket pocket.

    ¡°Let me start by apologizing¡­¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Artanna looked at him with exhausted eyes.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m a really good thief,¡± he said, pulling a piece of fabric out of his pocket and carefully unrolling it. ¡°I took this off your wrist during the fight at the tavern¡ªI wanted to show you what I can do. Although, right now I¡¯d have to say I signed my own death warrant.¡±

    Artanna stared at the bracelet in surprise.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡±

    Jert shrugged. ¡°We all have our talents. Are you going to kill me or just give me a hard time?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in,¡± the Vagran said hoarsely. ¡°But I¡¯ve got my eye on you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m a sight for sore eyes, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°While I was falling off the balcony, I realized I missed you already,¡± the Vagran relied, though she quickly turned serious. ¡°You¡¯ll sign the contract tomorrow. And remember, from now on, my enemies are your enemies, Copper.¡±

    ¡°Easy, Commander! Why Copper?¡±

    ¡°Have you seen yourself in the mirror?¡±

    The Ennian chuckled shortly. Artanna picked herself up and signaled her troops to head back to the manor, though she didn¡¯t even have time to button her cloak when a noise broke out behind her. As onlookers scattered, a rider pounded up on a pureblooded chestnut Belterian stallion, a popular horse among couriers serving the elite. Artanna took one glance at the crest sewed into the rider¡¯s cloak and knew exactly who his master was.

    ¡°Shit,¡± was all she said as she watched the young man hurry over.

    ¡°Who is that?¡± Shrain asked, walking over.

    ¡°That, Baby, is a problem. The untimeliest of all possible problems.¡±

    The rider came up to them and addressed the crowd.

    ¡°Where can I find Artanna nar Toll?¡±

    She stepped forward. ¡°Here I am. Tell me what I have to do.¡±

    ¡°In the name of Gregor Voldhard, Duke of Highligland, son of Rolf Voldhard, you, Artanna of House Toll, have been summoned for your service.¡± He unrolled a small scroll and glanced over it. ¡°Eight years ago, you were found guilty of treason and were to be executed by order of the ducal court.¡±

    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t quite like that¡­¡±

    ¡°Silence! Your sentence was substituted for exile in exchange for your pledge to come to the aid of any of the Voldhards at their first call. Gregor Voldhard has sent for you to come at once along with all your available people, and I am to accompany you to Ellisdor.¡±

    ¡°I thought he forgot about you,¡± Shrain said. ¡°Any way you can say no?¡±

    Artanna shook her head.

    ¡°Nope. I gave an oath. And I warned all of our troops that this might happen one day.¡±

    The problem was that she couldn¡¯t have picked a worse time to leave the city.

 Chapter 21. Ellisdor

    ¡°Would you care to explain what happened to her?¡±

    The windowpanes shook under Gregor¡¯s wrath. Aldor cringed as his friend stared icy death at him¡ªjust as he¡¯d expected, news about the attempt on the ambassador¡¯s life had reached the duke¡¯s ears when he got to Gorf. Worse, rumor had embellished the story with a number of extraneous details, even as the truth of the matter was bad enough for Gregor. Aldor took the brunt of young Voldhard¡¯s explosive temper as was usually the case, having sent away the other witnesses to the event ahead of time.

    The silence hung thick in the castle Shrine.

    ¡°What happened to Irital?¡± Gregor asked again.

    The baron looked steadily at the duke.

    ¡°There was an attempt made to kill the ambassador and me. Whoever did it waited for the moment when we were dining together.¡±

    ¡°So, why didn¡¯t anything happen to you?¡± Gregor barked, throwing caution to the winds and hurling his friend against a wall. A nearby nun jumped at the sound of the yelling, threw a handful of small candles right at the feet of the statue of Gillenai, and hurried away.

    ¡°Completely by accident,¡± the baron replied with a pained grimace. ¡°They changed out my food at the last moment.¡±

    ¡°I put you in charge of her! I trusted you!¡±

    ¡°Are you sending me to the executioner right now or would you like me to finish the story?¡± Aldor sighed. Sometimes, unmitigated gall was all that would bring his friend to his senses.

    A reasonable expression returned to Gregor¡¯s face. He let the baron go.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have been ready for something like this to happen. Curses! What was I thinking? Have you been able to figure anything out about who might have done it?¡±

    Aldor breathed out noisily and held his breath. A dull pain was shooting through his back.

    ¡°There isn¡¯t much to say. The second poisoned dish, the one I was supposed to eat, killed two refugee boys. The cook gave it to them out of the goodness of his heart.¡±

    Voldhard turned and stared at the narrow stained-glass window.

    ¡°Curses, Aldor¡­ They could have killed me, could have done it at any moment in Missolen. You and Rhinhilda tried to warn Irital and me, but I wouldn¡¯t listen, and she was the one to suffer. I was too careless. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just strange that it happened so quickly,¡± Aldor said. ¡°When we were attacked, you were probably halfway home, so somebody knew Irital was here. And they knew how much you care about her. It was a warning, Gregor.¡±

    ¡°They could have outpaced us. Any Gatson or Ennian ship would run circles around our fastest tub. Everyone knows our Highligland sailors are terrible, and the spy could¡¯ve already been in the castle. He may have just been waiting for the signal to act.¡±

    The baron went over to the altar and lit a slender candle.

    ¡°I was able to learn something. The poison they used to try to kill the ambassador and me is called Drinna¡¯s Blessing, and it¡¯s Ennian.¡±

    Gregor tensed and slowly turned to look at his friend.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Most likely. There aren¡¯t any other options.¡±

    Aldor carefully placed his candle in a low candleholder at the foot of the statue and made the divine sign over himself. The duke¡¯s eyes darkened; his jaw tightened.

    ¡°My cousin Demos is half-Ennian,¡± he said. ¡°His mother is from an ancient family with a lot of influence in their magistrate.¡±

    ¡°I already thought about the Flavieses,¡± Aldor replied with a thoughtful nod. ¡°But that¡¯s strange. The Burned Lord is said to be a skilled politician, so I wouldn¡¯t think he¡¯d pull a dirty trick like that.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Maybe he just didn¡¯t need to be delicate this time?¡±

    The baron sighed and lowered himself onto a bench.

    ¡°Even so, it¡¯s hard to believe. Why would Demos want to get rid of me and Lady Irital? With all due respect, we¡¯re not a threat to him; you are. If that were the case, he would have come after you, which makes this look more like a provocation. Maybe someone wants to push the two of you apart. But why?¡±

    Gregor paced the room nervously, glancing at the altar as he did.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, my friend. I¡¯m not sure. Guessing already has me worked up,¡± he replied, finally coming to rest on the bench next to the baron. ¡°This trip really did me in. Curse me, Aldor, but I¡¯ve had to go up against a crowd of savage Runds, and I survived. I was tortured with fire and beaten, and I survived. After everything that happened in the Order, I¡¯d think I wouldn¡¯t be afraid of anything, but Missolen was worse than a horde of barbarians. I really didn¡¯t know what I was getting myself into.¡±

    The baron shrugged, his eyes still on the statue in front of the altar.

    ¡°You¡¯re used to honest battles with simple weapons. No wonder politics knocked you for a loop. But if you want my opinion, I think you¡¯re off to a good start¡ªyou came back alive.¡± Aldor ran his fingers through his hair and massaged the back of his head. ¡°And hey, you had every right to do that to me. I should have called for help right away, the way you said, even if I don¡¯t think Artanna could have saved us from the poison.¡±

    ¡°You have everyone who had access to the food?¡±

    ¡°Of course. But I¡¯d still rather leave the interrogations to a professional, and we don¡¯t have any of those.¡±

    ¡°In that case, find me a good torturer, the kind that can stay on someone who¡¯s guilty for days.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in the process.¡± The baron unhooked the massive ring of keys on his belt and held it out to Voldhard. ¡°Here, I don¡¯t need these anymore.¡±

    The duke shook his head.

    ¡°Keep them. You did good work managing the castle, and you¡¯re the most responsible person I know. I want you to stay close to me. And that¡¯s especially true right now, with the Runds breathing down our necks, and the imperial elite playing their dirty tricks.¡±

    ¡°You finally figured out that I¡¯m a terrible fighter and gave me something to do that I¡¯m good at?¡± Aldor asked with a smile.

    ¡°This is a challenge, and I need to understand how best to use the talents of the people around me. There¡¯s only one person I can trust to manage Ellisdor, and I trust him completely. You, Archchancellor Aldor den Grauer. From now on, that¡¯s your title. Tomorrow, you¡¯ll get a great seal and take up your new chambers¡ªI want you to be my eyes and ears. Gather information no matter the cost, cover my back, and protect my weaknesses. You know me better than anyone in the castle, so you¡¯re more than capable of carrying that load.¡±

    The baron said nothing for a few seconds, not believing his own ears.

    ¡°Not everyone is going to like the news,¡± he said when he finally mastered his emotions.

    ¡°What does that matter?¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m just¡­¡±

    ¡°A landless baron? I¡¯ll make you a count if that will help you feel more confident in yourself. You swore fealty to me, you¡¯ve done your duty beautifully, and you¡¯ve never asked for anything in return. But I do always remember everything you¡¯ve done for me, and I know how to show appreciation.¡±

    Aldor shook his head, still not believing his friend¡¯s decision.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d prefer to keep my title,¡± he said, eyes dropping in embarrassment. ¡°My appointment will cause some¡­consternation as it is.¡±

    ¡°As you wish,¡± replied Voldhard as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. ¡°Congratulations, Archchancellor. And now, take me to Irital.¡±

    ***

    Brother Aristid kept his vigil at the head of the ambassador¡¯s bed. The monk¡¯s long, greasy hair was combed smoothly back and gathered in a ponytail, while the skirt of his once-white robe was stained with dirt from the road. One hand worked its way down a long string of beads; the other held a book open. Seeing the visitors step in, the monk pulled himself away from his prayers and smiled amiably.

    ¡°Allow me to introduce Brother Aristid to you, Your Grace,¡± Aldor announced ceremoniously. ¡°We are in his debt for saving Lady Irital¡¯s life.¡±

    The monk put his book aside and stood up to greet the duke.

    ¡°I am immensely happy to meet you, Your Grace,¡± he said with a bow. ¡°May you be blessed by the Keeper.¡±

    The duke looked around, paused for a second when he caught a glimpse of his beloved¡¯s golden hair lying on the pillow, and replied to Aristid.

    ¡°I cannot find words to express my gratitude. If there¡¯s anything I can do for you, simply ask. Gold, an offering for the temple, whatever you would like¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already spent many years following the path of poverty, Your Grace,¡± the monk replied as he fingered the silver disk hanging around his neck. ¡°Nothing gives me more pleasure than to help the suffering, for that is what Gillenai has for us to do. Allow me to stay near this woman, and nobody will touch her life. I will be at ease if I can watch over her.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Gregor nodded. ¡°Still, I am in your debt.¡±

    ¡°In that case, give your praise to the Keeper and pray to him with all your heart. I need nothing. Good deeds are not done in search of payment¡ªthat is a step in the Way we should all be following.¡± The monk spread his arms, and the metal balls in his rosary clacked together.

    Gregor turned to look at Irital as she slept.

    ¡°Will she regain consciousness soon?¡±

    Brother Aristid shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to say. She could wake up tomorrow, or it could be in a few days. The only way she¡¯ll recover completely is if she has absolute peace and quiet, though that day is, in fact, imminent. Her Grace¡¯s breathing is regular, her heartbeat is mild, and her color is starting to return. By the grace of the Keeper, she will rejoin us.¡±

    ¡°I hope so,¡± Aldor said quietly.

    The monk closed his eyes and picked his book back up.

    ¡°It¡¯s time for the afternoon prayers. I will pray for Your Grace¡¯s health.¡±