《Kingmaker》 Edits, maps, list of characters and miscellaneous info Maps : Incomplete map by an apprentice cartographer of Callir : Characters : The list is incomplete and simple, I haven''t listed every named character, and I may add more information about each of them. They''re grouped according to their affiliation when they''re first introduced. To avoid big spoilers, I won''t take out the deceased characters, and I don''t think I''ll update their whereabouts and affiliations. City-state of Callir Kingdom of Dael City-states of Viera Kingdom of Paar * * * This part is where I''ll make a list of the edits I''ve done/ been planning to do. I had very relevant feedback regarding the lack of foreshadowing and a lot of other issues, but I don''t want to risk a rewrite and get tired of it, so I''ll just edit in some much needed changes/scenes. I''ll list here said changes, you''re free to check the concerned chapters but in case you don''t want to, I''ll write a quick summary of the important things that matter for plot and character developement. If you happen to find some glaring plotholes and any sort of inconsistency, or displays of poor story-telling, you can inform me and comment on the concerned page or here if you want. Obviously, these are probably spoilers if you haven''t read to the lastest chapter. General : -> The lords'' names : Laurentias Feanir and Elric Danalion -> Edited out the entire creature/Abyss sub-plot (see below for details) -> Changed Ezveril''s age (+3 years) Chapter 3 : Added a new scene at the end. +Minor change in the middle. -> Introduced the mithridatism (poison resistance) at the end of the chapter. Hinting at Horace''s dubious decision to help Astrael and teach him about poisons. I mention four types of plant-based poisons, which Astrael has been feeding to his sister and himself ever since they were six y-o. -> Added foreshadowing of the improved crossbow as a potential political tool. Chapter 4 : Minor changes at the end of the chapter. -> Hinted at the oddness of Rina''s blood, and how it has to do with Xito. Chapter 5 : A few edits in the middle and at the end. -> Hinted at Julia and Leon''s relationship, and at Rina''s blood (she has been blessed by Xito with a certain type of magic) Chapter 6 : Minor change in the middle. -> Changed Astrael''s financial situation and preparations. He isn''t penniless anymore, his parents gave him some money, but he needs more and has several plans to solve his financial issues. Chapter 8 : Added a new scene after the visit at the apothecary shop. -> Astrael looks for specific poisons that could be used by lords and rich patrons, and learns that venom-based poison is expensive but very deadly. He and Bert return to the temple via another route, and get separated in the red-light district. Some trouble with drunk thugs gets quickly solved by Bert who also witness Astrael knocking out an attacker. Chapter 9 & 10 : I did a major rewrite. Only kept a few scenes, changed the first half and end of chapter 9, and changed most things in chapter 10. -> I changed Astrael''s plan, he learns about Leon''s sick brother beforehand and aims for him directly. Rina is aware of the crossbow project and is somewhat an accomplice in getting Leon interested in funding it. Hinted at Therenus and lord Danalion''s dealings with the Vieran cities, and how they try to control the citizens with gifts. Julia''s role is kept a bit more mysterious, while I reveal a bit of lore about the world now and then, and background about the Feanir family. In the end, Astrael feigns ignorance about Timenon''s illness but compels Leon to bring up the crossbow project during dinner. Chapter 11 : A few changes, mainly about Julia herself. -> Julia is revealed to be the one who first told Leon about Astrael''s project, but asked him to keep it a secret. Astrael stills find out her relationship with Leon, but they seem to somehow find an agreement (he says he doesn''t want Rina to be involved in some scandal because of Julia, so he doesn''t intend to reveal anything). A short talk about slaves, and their respective opinions on the matter. Chapter 12 : Changed the last scene into a normal hunt. Chapter 14 : Changed bits of the first scene, Astrael is now looking into the past only because of his curiosity. Chapter 17 : Extended the last scene + minor changes. -> The knights come back with the evidence and Therenus is locked up in a room. Odel doesn''t defend him, despite Therenus thinking about their friendship, and Phiramel call for a public trial. Chapter 21 : Changed "second princess" to "third princess", mentionned princess Agelle, Ezveril''s older sister Chapter 25 : Changed the note at the beginning. Chapter 30 : Noctine is now Ezveril''s cousin, instead of half-sister Planned : -> I''ll rewrite most descriptions and internal thoughts/feelings when I have the time/when I feel like it, because there is too much telling and not enough showing. I''ll probably add things on a regular basis, so don''t forget to check this page from time to time in case I changed something relevant to the plot. Rebirth - Prologue ¡°It is said that the first heroes arose as the gods called them. Whenever gods called, heroes came to be. I know it''s true, because when they called, I answered. -???¡± * * * ??? He answered, he fought, and he vanquished. Then, at some point in his life, he died. His goals all accomplished, his loved ones already gone, he had nothing to regret. Nothing worth shedding tears over, at least. What he could do, he had done ¨C what he didn''t, he couldn''t have anyway. Since long, he had made peace with the one fate that nobody could escape. Such determination had been, perhaps, the foundation of his way of life. He and the others couldn''t have done all that, had they been struck by the fear of death and pain. Only the braves could have fulfilled the Duty. There was nothing to fear, nothing to lament. Then why, as the grim doors of nothingness opened to him, was he feeling bitter? In the end, bitterness was the last thing he ever felt. Or so he thought. It felt like a long dream. One he couldn''t escape from, no matter how hard he tried. It was dark, warm, and silent. The occasional sound reached his ears, but his mind could no longer comprehend the meaning of a sound, or the even meaning of his own existence, in fact. In this strange inertia of the mind, he tried to think, but even that failed. He couldn''t recall when it began exactly, but he could now feel the presence of his body, and the sounds were getting more and more distinct, clearer as the time passed. The only certainty he had was that time was passing. How much, how long, he couldn''t fathom. How old was he, now? He had no idea. Who was he anyway? At first, it hurt when he tried to think about it. Then it started to come back to him, bits by bits. In that state of ever-fading consciousness, his memory and his self-awareness were being rebuilt slowly but surely. Soon enough the darkness around him was no more, with a faint light creeping through a veil. For a long moment, asking himself the heck is this place? was the extent of his ability to question his environment. By the time another major event happened, he was more or less sure he had died. Whatever that meant. Or perhaps he was still dying. Perhaps he was currently on his way to the nothingness, or the Abyss, or wherever else the dead went. Across the world, he had travelled through many lands and visited many cities, and there were all sorts of beliefs regarding death. Some would say his soul was being sent to another realm. Some would say his memories coming back to him was just the infamous process of seeing one''s life before the end. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. As far as he was concerned though, each of these rumours were most likely crap. He clearly felt his own body, so he wasn''t a mere soul. And if he was seeing his life flashing before his eyes, then something was wrong. The order was wrong. More importantly, as far as he was concerned, and the gods knew he was really, really concerned right now, whatever was currently happening was entirely more terrifying than any idea one could have of death. He was being pulled away from the warmth, and he could feel his body being torn apart. His legs clutched, it was as if something was dragging him in the cold underground. Demons from the Abyss! he surmised, panicked, as his instincts screamed for him to defend himself. Alas, he had neither sword nor pike, and despite his pleas, begging the gods that they save him, no words came out of his mouth. He must have looked pitiful in their godly eyes. The only thing he could do was struggle and kick and make his final moments as difficult as he could for the demons, but his body was slow and numb, as if they had casted a curse on him. And here they were. Holding him, looking at him. He couldn''t see anything more than blurry creatures, but they were unmistakeably here. They spoke, in their indecipherable language, probably making threats and taunts, toying with him before they ate his soul or something. Such were what the scriptures said about the demons. In a last desperate attempt to avoid a vain death, he cursed them, he yelled, let out his rage, his hatred, his bitterness and frustration, all sorts of feelings he had no idea he was still capable of. In place of his curse, he could only hear an abominable screech. A cry. He didn''t remember when he fell unconscious. It seemed he was still alive, but he hadn''t regained control of his body yet. He had to think about his predicament, about what all of this meant, but he couldn''t. He was tired. Whenever he was awake, he tried to think of an escape plan, but he''d end up falling asleep. And whenever he slept, he''d dream, dream of the past, of himself, of a world he thought he had forgotten. The headaches kept occurring, just like when he was still bathing in the warmth. Before he knew it, colours and shapes were his new environment. The demons making sounds were now a part of his everyday life. Whatever a day meant in this nightmare. It took days, months perhaps, for him to really understand. To understand what time was, what the sounds were, what the colours and shapes meant. It wasn''t a sudden realisation, the same way that his memory didn''t come back all at once. But there was a moment when it made sense ¨C or rather, it was the only explanation. He, chosen of the gods, fulfiller of the Duty, had spent his whole life sharpening his senses, his mind and his body, and was now finding himself in the body of a infant. Through eyes that didn''t feel like his own, his sight had developed to the point where he could now see the people around him and stop thinking of them as demons. He could see their perfectly human, non-demonic facial features. A phenomenal progress. In a growing body that didn''t feel like his own, he was learning to move again. Turning his head at first, then moving his arms and legs. Walking wasn''t on the agenda yet, and he soon discovered that crying and getting carried was currently his fastest means of transportation. Not that he had anywhere to go. And, surrounded by people he didn''t know, in a place he had no recollection of, where everyone spoke a language that definitely wasn''t his own, he had to live the uninteresting life of an infant. Yet among this confusing madness, this absurdity, satisfaction and eagerness was all he felt. All of this could only mean one thing. When the gods call, the heroes answer. His rebirth ¨C because that was what it was, there was no doubt anymore ¨C was certainly proof that the gods had plans for him. I wonder if the same thing happened to the others... Well, it would not come as a surprise if I was the only one. I was the best, after all. The reason he was reborn made him curious, of course. Sure, the world would never be at peace, there would always be issues and conflicts that required some diplomacy or head-bashing, that was why heroes existed in the first place. Why him, though? What would warrant his reincarnation? He wasn''t even sure it was right, to be reborn like that. It went against the nature of the world. There was no way to know if it really happened on purpose, or if it was a mere accident. What he was sure of, however, was that the bitterness he felt when he died was now gone. That was the reason, in the end. After a lifetime of devotion and abnegation, how could one accept death so easily? He let a childish chuckle escape. Living is such a thrill. Old And New - Chapter 1 ¡°Pelirise, the Sun ¨C goddess of... the sun, as you expertly guessed. Patron-deity of summer and, allegedly, of sunburns. Also, protector of matrimony and virtuous love. I tell you, married men don''t like her a lot. They''d much rather honour Viera and her... open-minded and flexible teachings. -unsatisfied husband¡± * * * ??? ¡°Bbl... Gah!¡± said the infant. He observed the fleshy, almost hairless thing that was meant to be his little sister. ¡°I see. Pleased to meet you too,¡± he eventually greeted in his native tongue, as it was the first time he was being left alone and unsupervised near her. His mother usually spent her days at home, nursing and watching over him, and, ever since she was born, his sister. His greeting was met with eyes widening in shock and stupefaction. Yes, behold my advanced speech. I am the superior child amongst the two of us. Well, this wasn''t nearly enough to conclude whether or not this newborn sister was also a reincarnated hero of old. Perhaps she was simply in awe of her brother''s display of intelligence. He was almost one year old but she, on the other hand, could barely boast a single month of existence. How pitiful. He couldn''t recall much about his time as a one month-old creature, but even with the massive advantage of having the memories from his previous life, he was almost certain he didn''t look any smarter than this girl, even though he clearly was. At the time, he was still busy adapting to the new reality. Understanding that he had been reincarnated as a baby and that his parents weren''t abominations from the Abyss, and all that. There would be no reason to suspect his perfectly normal sister and her limited intellect of anything, in fact, if it wasn''t for the strange tattoo that could be found on the back of her right hand. A dark red symbol representing a droplet of blood, most likely, running along a bramble thorn. Very ominous ¨C nothing one would want to bear on his hand. It seemed she was born with it, and even though the idea made no sense in his mind, it looked like their parents had no issue with it. At first he assumed it to be a slave mark of some kind, but he couldn''t spot a similar inscribing on his parents'' bodies or his own, and they seemed to live in a decent house anyway, so the probability seemed low. There was another possibility, one that dealt with gods, but he sincerely hoped he was wrong ¨C for her sake. No, it''s much more than a mere possibility. The longer I look at it, the more familiar it feels. I''m fairly sure it''s identical to the one I saw a long time ago... Hmm, I can''t recall the details. Why did he have to wear gloves all the time, this fucker? Was he ashamed of his mark or something? But then that would mean the gods made a mistake. Where was his mark? Such a blunder would be very ungodly, though. Perhaps this whole business had nothing to do with gods, in the end. Hopefully he was mistaken and his sister''s mark held an entirely different meaning. He sighed. ¡°A cultural thing, perhaps. What say you, little sister? Are you a slave heading straight into a life of servitude, or are you not?¡± ...Well, either way, it''s the same, he concluded grimly. I''d be almost relieved if I wasn''t the bearer of the mark this time. A cry was all he got for an answer. One thing that didn''t change since then was that he still made babies cry involuntarily. He always believed it was because of his face, but here in this second life he had seen his reflection in the water once, when he was being washed, and there was nothing wrong with his new face. It was... a baby''s face, as plain and unexceptional as it could get. Perhaps she just couldn''t understand this language. Just because someone was reincarnated with him did not mean that they came from the same place or era. He recalled there was one fellow in his group that came from some faraway land and couldn''t speak one word of Pelirian. They had to figure out how to communicate in a hurry right before a siege. What a clusterfuck that was, this battle, now that he thought about it... Before he could try in some of the other tongues he had learned during his past life, they were disturbed. The sister''s screeching had made their mother hurry inside the room, wondering what could have caused such a sudden burst of tears, no doubt. ¡°Rina, what''s wrong? Are you hungry?¡± she asked as if she expected the speech-impaired baby to answer with something other than her current crying. His sister had been named a week after her birth, and it seemed that doing so was a custom here. Once a baby became seven days old, a ritual took place, during which the infant was named. The parents brought a bit of earth and spread it on the child''s body, then offered a name to the gods ¨C but other than that, everything was done in silence. He had probably gone through the same ritual a week after his birth, though he had no recollection of it. There wasn''t much he could recall about his first weeks of existence, as he had been dealing with his underdeveloped senses and his incomplete memories, not even suspecting the fact that he had been reborn yet. These were the first obstacles he had had to overcome in this new life. Not being able to turn his head or move his arms as he wished, to decide when he had to defecate, it was fairly humiliating. It wasn''t that bad, though. It couldn''t compare to the time he had infiltrated an enemy fort by hiding in some cramped barrel ¨C he had to lay in wait for three days and three nights. As a baby, he could at least gesticulate, babble and evacuate wastes without the fear of being found out. The discomfort and unease caused by his body was one thing, but the pain caused by his memories coming back was much worse. Every time he slept, he''d dream about things. About his past. And every time he''d wake up, he''d remember something, but he''d also be in pain ¨C horrible pain. The worst headaches he ever suffered, as if his head was about to explode, as if the memories and thoughts flowing in his mind were tearing it apart. It would calm down eventually, but not before his screams caused his mother to wake up in panic. She must have been thinking he was one damn crybaby, or some capricious glutton who always had to be fed. With time, the dreams became rarer and rarer, until he stopped having them. He could now say with confidence that he had regained all the memories he had at the time of his death. It was both a blessing and a curse, for now he had to force himself to act like a child. For instance, breast-feeding used to be fine... when he didn''t have the guilt and the awareness of an adult. Now, it was just weird. Hopefully it would stop soon, he was almost one year-old, for Viera''s sake. For now, he had to maintain his role of a regular, non-reincarnated baby. ¡°Mama!¡± he called out in his most joyful tone. He already had a good understanding of the tongue these people spoke, but it would do him no good if he started to show off his vocabulary. Though his pronunciation was more credible ¨C not that the language was hard in itself, but this stupid mouth he was stuck with couldn''t manage to properly articulate the words yet. ¡°You too?¡± the mother inquired as she began feeding Rina. He promptly shook his head, since he already ate not long ago. The meals here were voluptuous and soft, mostly pale with a touch of pink. The milk, however, he failed to appreciate. Never liked the taste, but I''ll endure, I should soon get to eat regular food. His mother smiled, as any mother would when seeing her son seemingly being able to understand what she said. ¡°Don''t you think your sister is gorgeous, Astrael?¡± I wouldn''t know, he meant to say, but he had to build his persona of a doting older brother, and so decided to reply with a magnificent ¡°Gah!¡± instead. ¡°Hear that, Rina? Astrael says you''re the prettiest girl alive.¡± Such was his new name. It was as good as any, or at least he thought so. The names around sounded like nothing he had ever heard, so he had no way to know if it really was a good one. But he did like the ring of it. The only names he already knew here were the gods''. He had heard the names of Pelirise, Xito and Viera being voiced during prayers when the mother was giving birth to Rina. The pronunciation was somewhat different, but these were the deities he knew, of that he was sure. It was reassuring, obviously. That meant he was probably on the same lands he used to live on. He couldn''t gather any information about the place or the time, but since they had the same gods it couldn''t be too foreign of a place. I wish there were books somewhere... And I wish I could read too. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Learning to read was amongst his top priorities. As far as he could see, his parents weren''t literate, and if they were, then they were also masters at hiding any form of writing from Astrael''s observing eyes. He had been crawling around, ransacking the only two rooms in the house, but his search for information proved vain. It wasn''t a particularly wealthy room, so it was likely they could afford neither books nor a reading teacher. Maybe I ought to directly ask mother, instead. Being illiterate does not mean being ignorant. Hi mama, I know I''m only one year old, but could you tell me about geography and history? Or whatever it''s called in your language. There was no way it would go well. He couldn''t know if it was a thing around here, but back where he came from, burning suspicious people was commonplace. That was because mind-rot and corruption were commonplace too. If a child showed symptoms of illness or madness, the parents were expected to inform the local priests, and, from time to time, intelligence and common sense among children was mistaken for folly and infection. They could not take any risk, for cases of corruption that weren''t properly dealt with would give birth to scourges and plagues. Well, the past is the past, and we eradicated the disease... I think? I kinda died before I could confirm that, but it seemed to me like we were making good progress. Regardless, hopefully this is a civilized future where the idea of precocity is widely known. Though he wouldn''t try to find out anytime soon. At least not until he figured out if his parents were bright, tolerant individuals, or superstitious brutes. For now, everything seemed to point toward the former possibility. The father, he hadn''t seen a lot as he was busy with the farm, but the mother was kind and attentive. Possibly tolerant, then. More importantly, they didn''t look bothered by the mark on Rina''s hand. If anything, whenever Astrael caught them staring at her hand, he could only find reverence and awe in their eyes. And, in the mother''s expression, a tinge of sadness. All of this only hinted to the possibility Astrael dreaded. It felt like she knew what the mark was. The only silver lining he could find in all that was that if he verified his suspicions, it would confirm him who was the patron-deity of these lands. Not his own, unfortunately. There was another reason why he deemed unsafe to reveal anything out of the ordinary about him ¨C he wouldn''t want to get involved needlessly. Because who knew? Sure, maybe the parents themselves weren''t particularly disturbed by the mark, maybe they even knew its true nature, but it didn''t mean it was the same for everyone else. What if people misunderstood what the mark meant and thought Rina was a witch of some sort? Our parents sometimes speak about other people, but I don''t recall them inviting friends or showing Rina ¨C or me, while we''re at it ¨C to anyone at all, so that may be it. What if they''re hiding her? It can''t be that my parents are loners living in a village of madmen... I hope it''s not that. For now, he had to avoid acting weird, as to not get suspected too. I don''t want to be burnt alive at the age of one. * * * It wasn''t long before his concerns were answered. For the first time in his short new life, Astrael got to see the outside world ¨C the outside of his house, at least. It was a small village, and though nothing seemed wrong at first, it took him a moment to realize why he felt funny. He felt at home. The architecture was a bit different from what he knew, but houses were still made of wood and stones, the villagers'' clothes were unsurprisingly very villager-like, there were fields of wheat in the distance, sheep and chickens and whatnot. It was cosy, it reminded him of his country''s villages. It''s nice, but... It''s somewhat disappointing. I''d have liked to be born in a city or something. I suppose I''ll have a hard time finding books here. People were attending their own affairs, in a relative tranquility. A lady drawing water from the well waved at Astrael''s family when she noticed them. Children were swinging wooden sticks, playing at being knights. They barely avoided his mother, who was carrying Rina, as they ran around without looking. His father raised his voice. ¡°Hey! Careful, kids!¡± ¡°Sorry, mister Joel!¡± one of them bothered to answer. Damn kids, Astrael thought, frowning, I''ll beat them up when I grow up. Then they''ll see how sorry they are. His mother stared at him for a bit. ¡°Dear,¡± she eventually said, ¡°your son is making a strange grimace. I think you scared him when you yelled.¡± ¡°Oh, did I?¡± he wondered as he, too, stared at the baby he was holding. Astrael quickly proved his father innocent by elegantly shaking his head, which made the man smile. ¡°See? He was probably just pooping or something.¡± I wasn''t. He frowned yet again, as menacingly as he could, but both his parents were looking away now. Nngh. What an oaf this guy is... Glancing in the direction they were looking, he saw another family approaching ¨C friends surely, seeing as everyone was wearing a kind smile on their face. After the mandatory greetings, it was time for each parent to brag about their own child. ¡°So here are the famous siblings, eh?¡± the wife said with genuine interest. ¡°Hello there, Astrael! Do you remember me?¡± I don''t. Who are you, woman? It seemed he had been outside and had met people already, though he must have been too young to remember. ¡°I take it this is Rina?¡± ¡°That would be her,¡± Joel replied proudly as he looked at the infant, before turning his attention back to his son. ¡°Astrael, say hi to Gidelle, will you?¡± ¡°Hello,¡± he complied while waving, though he was thinking about something else. We''re famous, it seems. Hear that, little sister? Famous. He could see why he would be, what with the intelligence and natural charisma he displayed and all that, but why his sister too? She wasn''t even pretty ¨C yet. If she turned out to be like his mother, then yes, she''d be famous in the village, but for now, she was a mere babbling baby... He could guess it had to do with the mark, and so that meant the villagers knew. ¡°Our Rickael here is one good-for-nothing, I can tell you that. Aren''t you, Ricky?¡± Hearing the kind praise of his loving father, the brat, probably six or seven, hid behind his mother''s dress while staring at Rina. ¡°My, I think he has a thing for your daughter, Rosa.¡± Astrael''s mother could only answer with an embarrassed chuckle, as she, too, probably hoped it wasn''t the case. We all know where this sort of talk leads. Worry not, little sister, I shall be the one to choose your husband and your in-laws. This family won''t do ¨C their heir is a coward and has no manners. ¡°Hehe, well... It''s not, err...¡± The stuttering enemy father awkwardly rubbed the back of his head while glancing repeatedly at Rina''s mark. Astrael didn''t miss one bit of that moment. ¡°Anyway! Won''t you come for supper tonight?¡± ¡°Oh, thank you Danil, we''d be delighted,¡± his father said. The adults spoke for a bit longer, while the children, Astrael among them, silently exchanged looks. To be exact, Astrael glared at Rickael, who was staring at Rina, who was gazing at the sky with half-closed eyes. On the way back to the house, a few more people greeted his family, and so Astrael had to admit that his parents were not loners, on the contrary. They seemed to be quite the popular couple. Was it because they were well-liked, or because their daughter had received the mark? A bit of both, If I had to say. Evening came, and so the family headed out for supper. Danil and Gidelle''s house wasn''t any different from their own. Same size, same materials, more or less. There were two rooms, too. It seemed to be the standard for the houses in this village. After the prayer, everyone sat at the table while they ate and chatted and talked about many topics. Gossip about the villagers, hopes for this year''s harvest and the quality of the crops, plans for the future... Rickael was to become a farmer, like his father and, in fact, most people in the village. Astrael already knew that his own father was a farmer, but in case anyone at the table had forgotten it, Joel made sure to remind them by having a lengthy monologue about crops, something that only Danil was interested in. The two wives looked absolutely bored at the time, and Rosa had to elbow her husband in the ribs to make him shut up so that they could move to different topics. ¡°So,¡± Gidelle said to Rosa, seeing that the men were still trying to talk about crops one way or another, ¡°are you going to ask old man Horace?¡± ¡°Ah, for the children? Well...¡± she thought for a bit. ¡°I guess I will. He used to be an apothecary in Callir, and he''s literate. I think he won''t mind teaching Astrael and Rina.¡± A sly grin formed on his face. Oh, what is this? Talking about me, I hear. Will I finally learn to read? ¡°I think we''ll wait until they''re older,¡± she continued. Not wanting his education to be delayed any longer, Astrael turned his head to glare at his mother, who made a surprised face. ¡°...But I suppose Horace could read them books in the meantime.¡± He congratulated her for her wise decision by giving her a large smile full of love. Even without the urgency of learning about the world, being taught from a very young age was the perfect cover. It would allow him to speak earlier than planned without being suspected of anything. They''d just assume Astrael was a prodigy of some sort, and that he learned quickly with this Horace fellow as a teacher. ¡°It''s funny,¡± Rosa said with an amused voice. ¡°Sometimes I feel like he understands perfectly what I''m saying.¡± Gidelle observed Astrael for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°Perhaps he does. Would that be surprising? Your daughter has the mark, you should expect her brother to be somewhat out of the ordinary, too.¡± Yes, yes. Praise me more. I feed on praises and compliments. Aside from that, there wasn''t a single sentence uttered about future plans concerning Rina. Or perhaps there was, and he didn''t listen or understand fully, seeing as his mastery of the language wasn''t perfect yet. Though he had a gut feeling that his linguistic skills weren''t the issue. They were damn good, after all. At some point, Danil brought ale on the table, allowing the conversation to move up a notch in terms of noisiness. Soon enough, the fathers were clearly drunk, while the mothers somehow managed to maintain dialogue with each other. Astrael, who had the privilege of being sited on his mother''s lap all this time, couldn''t begin to fathom how they seemed to ignore the two resounding talkers next to them. Experience, perhaps. It felt slightly improper to be so loud with his infant sister in the room, though Rina seemed perfectly fine, and asleep, tucked in some sort of basket not far from Rosa. Rickael came to their side and neared Rina''s basket. He stood there, right next to Astrael and Rosa, silently staring at the sister for some time. Astrael kicked him, as a reminder of his position. This pretender shouldn''t hope for anything as long as the older brother was here. Plus, she''s meant to do great things. I can''t let her marry half-wits like you, forgive me. Though the adults appeared to have the greatest fun of their lives, the evening was turning to be fairly uninteresting for the youngest audience. The adults had kept Astrael''s attention when they discussed topics like agriculture and education, but now it was all gossip, drunk jokes, husbands saying how great their wives were, and wives saying how stupid their husbands were. Moreover, with only the stamina of a one year-old to boast, Astrael was starting to feel tired. He decided to mimic Rina and Rickael, and closed his eyes to indulge in a short nap. He woke up from his ''nap'' at dawn. The first rays of light came through the window, illuminating the bedroom where all the family was. He yawned, checked that his sleeping sister was still tucked in her covers, and stretched. So, that''s something to work on. I can''t have twelve hours long naps when I''m supposed to investigate this world. Old And New - Chapter 2 ¡°Irixil, the Wind. Patron-god of all the bad things in the world. I''ll have you know nobody likes him. He''s the reason the winters are shit, and it is said diseases are the product of his wrath. Can''t say I know what sin you''d have to commit in order to get afflicted with a diarrhoea or some other similar horror, but that''s one vicious way of punishing your faithful servants if you want my opinion. -angry sick man¡± * * * Astrael ¡°...and on the sixth day, knight Egael came back to the hill where the princess was waiting, as he had promised.¡± ¡°Very good,¡± Horace said as he clapped his hands. ¡°And that''s the end of Egael''s tale. You barely have any trouble reading now, I''m impressed.¡± ¡°Hm.¡±Astrael stared at the book with suspicious eyes. ¡°Is that really what happened?¡± The apothecary raised a brow and scratched his dark beard. It was fairly thick, especially when compared to his buzzcut. So thick one could probably hide things. Was Horace searching for something right now? As the man scratched his beard, it felt to Astrael as if it held the mysteries of the world inside it. ¡°Something wrong?¡± he eventually asked. Ugh, yeah, look at me. I''m going mad with all your damn tales. Though his real concern was different. ¡°I mean, she''s quite the obnoxious lady, why would he go to such lengths for her? I would have ditched her long ago if it were me...¡± ¡°She''s lucky it wasn''t you, then!¡± Horace bellowed. ¡°Whatcha saying, you damn four year-old brat! Kids your age should be in awe of how brave and manly Egael is.¡± Kids my age are dumb, that''s why. And if they were really his age, they wouldn''t be kids anymore, but he couldn''t exactly retort such things to Horace, could he? It had been three years since he was introduced to Horace the apothecary. In truth, he also played the roles of the village''s doctor, herbalist and teacher of various subjects. He was a learned man, that was the least one could say about him. It even turned out that his wife was the midwife who had helped with Rina''s birth, and probably Astrael''s too. An interesting couple. Here, in this house where every nook and cranny was home to a couple of spiders, he found some of the books he had been looking for. Geography, history, botany, theology. Though in the end, regarding his initial goals, he came back empty ended. He had no clue as to where he was and how much time had passed. But the religious scriptures were fairly similar in content, and the laws of physics, the fauna and flora were the same so that could only mean it was the same world. There was a moment when he thought he might have been sent to some faraway celestial body, as back in his time mathematicians and astronomers claimed that the stars in the sky were in fact worlds of their own. He didn''t think much of it in his previous life, but ever since he had found himself reborn in this foreign environment, he couldn''t help but wonder. Perhaps it was the case. There were so many, after all, so it wasn''t far-fetched to assume that there were worlds that resembled each other. Though in the end, the scholars that suggested these theories were banished from their cities and sometimes hunted down by various religious orders. The starry sky one would observe at night was Atharemine''s domain, and humankind shouldn''t pry in such godly matters, they said. Offenders shall be burnt at the stake as an apology towards the patron-deity of night and shadow, they said. The fastest way to find out if this was the world he knew would have been to stumble upon information about his past self. And so he tried to look up for his real name, and his former colleagues'' names, but nothing came up. How depressing, he concluded. There''s no mention of me anywhere, how come? I was famous, wasn''t I? Ugh... Assuming he had not been sent to another world, then two possibilities remained. He either was too old to be remembered, or simply too far away from his home to be known. Back to square one. And now here he was, learning about Horace''s favourite ballads, trying to wrap his head around the local folklore and its absurdity. Despite being an apothecary and many other things, good old Horace seemed to be very fond of literature before everything else ¨C compared to the number of poetry works, there weren''t that many books about the world here, aside from encyclopedias and treatises on botanic and chemistry, so perhaps it was the reason Astrael couldn''t find hints about his era? Once he''d find a larger library, in a city for instance, no doubt he''d come across the desired information. Hopefully. Horace suggested he could order some books from Callir, since he still had friends in the city, but Astrael knew his parents would want to pay for it, as they already felt indebted for the free reading lessons, and since he wasn''t even sure he''d find what he sought, it wasn''t worth the expense. Still, for now, the legend and tales of naive knight Egael and his colleagues were a good starter, despite the disgusting aftertaste. Learning the folklore would help him blend into society. Quite the shocking differences from what he knew ¨C that''d be mostly ballads of mighty heroes sacrificing themselves for their home and beliefs. Here, idiot nobles falling in love with insufferable princesses were the norm, it seemed. Pft. Back in my time, unsightly women had the decency to commit suicide. The popular stories, at least according to Horace, were the ones that spoke of love transcending borders and duty. Needless to say, the protagonists were often traitors that would flee their responsibilities and go courting some princess from an enemy nation. Knights were idiots that fell in love at first sight and princesses were shy, cowardly women. It all contributed to make each of these books a rather painful read for Astrael. ¡°You might be a smart brat, but you won''t find love if you keep this boorish, ungallant side of yours,¡± Horace grumbled. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Preposterous. I don''t see how anyone could follow Egael''s footsteps and perjure himself for a cheating, indecisive wench. ¡°Marriage should not be taken so lightly,¡± Astrael retorted in an annoyed tone. ¡°It should be valued as a tool to create durable political alliances, not a way to satisfy the lust of hot-headed idiots.¡± Hearing that, the apothecary grimaced. ¡°You... Have you been reading Euronel''s Treatise on Warfare and Politics or something? Don''t stick your nose in such matters, damnit. You sound like some pretentious twenty year-old strategist freshly promoted, bragging about things he doesn''t even understand.¡± Hah, you poor thing. I''m much older than that, in fact... Hm? I''ve never read this book you speak of, but it does seem interesting. ¡°Euronel, you say?¡± he asked as innocently as he could. ¡°Err.. right, where did you put it, by the way? I wanted to check something but I couldn''t find it anymore.¡± Horace snorted and motioned toward a shelf that Astrael hadn''t gone through yet because he believed it to be filled with these crappy romances the apothecary was fond of. Stuck between two massive anthologies of poetry, he could only see the name of the author from this angle, written in small characters. I would never have guessed, Astrael smiled as Horace reached for the book and gave it to him. Still, it''s a wonder he has so many books about so many different topics. From what I''ve seen, books and scrolls are still hand-written and the products of a long, meticulous work. It doesn''t look like Horace is rich enough to afford such a collection though... He wouldn''t live in this small village if he was. ¡°I''m going out for a bit. Gotta gather some plants. I don''t suppose you wish to come with me, lord strategist?¡± ¡°Oh, I wouldn''t want to disturb you with my boring opinions on arranged marriage, old man. I''ll be fine, thanks for the book!¡± Horace grunted and nodded before going out. Astrael followed him, to read his newfound treasure outdoors and enjoy the afternoon sun. Shortly thereafter, they parted ways, but not without exchanging a few more jabs first. * * * ¡°What are you reading?¡± Astrael looked up to see his sister Rina staring at him with curious eyes. He realized how much time had passed, with the western skies now tinted in an orange glow. He exhaled deeply, letting a satisfied grin creeping up on his face. ¡°Well... A very interesting book,¡± he simply replied. While he had been expecting only useless guidelines and abstract politics, Astrael found out that this book''s contents were much more relevant than that. Not only the author was knowledgeable in diplomacy, but he had also experience on the battlefield. He spoke of what it meant to govern a city or a nation and to defend it against various threat. Trade embargoes, sieges, balance of powers within a government, and so on. Nothing Astrael wasn''t aware of, but still. It made for a nice history lesson too, since Euronel used real-life examples for his claims. And he wasn''t even halfway through, so he was surely bound to learn of military tactics and technologies he didn''t know about, as he''d keep reading. ¡°Astrael, when will I be able to read like you?¡± ¡°Hmm... Not before a few years, I suppose.¡± Seeing Rina''s frustrated expression, he smiled. Truly, he had grown fond of the girl. ¡°I have no doubts you''ll get to it eventually. Worry not.¡± He closed the book and paused, gazing at the cover. ¡°But I''m not sure this one would interest you yet, however I look at it,¡± he concluded. ¡°Why!¡± she squealed. ¡°Of course it would. Mister Horace said the books you''re reading are hard, but very important.¡± He frowned. ¡°...He said that, huh?¡± Of course he did. ¡°Come to think of it, how did you find me? Horace told you?¡± She nodded and sat next to him. Leaning over the book, she pushed her curly black hair out of her sight and attempted to decipher the cover. ¡°Err... Eu-... Eubonei?¡± ¡°Euronel,¡± he corrected while arranging her hair and tucking her long silky locks behind her ears. ¡°He was a famous royal advisor, back when Callir was ruled by a king.¡± ¡°Royal advisor... what''s that?¡± ¡°A smart person who serves and advises a king. He helps ruling and defending the country. It''s a very important position.¡± Rina seemed lost in thought for a bit. She then turned her head and looked at Astrael with an excited face. ¡°Will you become an advisor in Callir when you grow up?¡± ¡°I don''t know,¡± he said. ¡°What about you, Rina? Is there something you''d like to do?¡± ¡°Mother said I''ll live in Callir when I''m older.¡± It wasn''t the reply he was looking for, but he could understand what she meant. Rina had been asking their parents about the mark on her hand, and while the answer seemed to enthral his sister, he, on the other hand, could only pity her in silence. It wasn''t anything he was unaware of, at this stage. From the beginning he thought it was either a slave mark, or something related to the gods ¨C to one god, specifically. There was only one deity that could possibly have anything to do with the droplet of blood and the bramble branch. The patron-god of the city-state of Callir, was what he was known as around here. Xito, the Blood, he cursed in his mind. He had confirmed his suspicions even before their parents bothered to speak about the mark. What he disliked the most about the situation was how everyone else thought about it. His parents were acting proud and glad, saying how lucky Rina was. How much of a blessing it was for her to have received the mark. Because in a few years, she''d depart for Callir, and begin her studies and training in the temple of Xito. Rina was too young to understand, so she could only see the bright side. She wasn''t even told what she would be going there for. Well, no one except him could tell her. The others could only tell her what they knew, the embellished truth. She''d get access to education, yes. She''d be treated like a little princess, she''d be well fed, have nice clothes and competent teachers. And in exchange for all that, she''d be asked to pledge her life to Xito. She would become the most famous person in the Blood church. The position had different names depending on the language. Apostle, champion, templar, paladin, or simply Servant of the gods. Fulfiller of the Duty, sometimes. But in his native tongue, she would become what they''d call a hero. Astrael knew all that, because he had already gone through the same thing. His patron-god wasn''t Xito, but that would not change that one, frustrating fact. His sister''s life was already decided. She would not live for herself, she would not achieve any of the dreams she could have along the way. The church will decide which battles she''ll fight, which ideals she''ll vouch for. The church will decide whom she''ll kill and whom she''ll protect. The church will choose the place of her death. And she had no idea. Astrael rubbed the head of his sister, and rested his chin on top of it. ¡°My sweet, innocent sister...¡± he muttered. ¡°When the day comes, if you still want to go...¡± No, it doesn''t have anything to do with what she wants. She has no choice, Xito has given her his mark. ¡°When you go,¡± he continued and closed his eyes, ¡°I''ll be there for you. I''ll accompany you to Callir, if you want me to.¡± He felt her nodding. ¡°Mh. I''d like that,¡± she said in a tone that sounded almost sad in Astrael''s ears. Perhaps she wasn''t as na?ve as he thought. The gods weren''t known to pick slow-witted people as their champions, after all. He did not say another word and simply kissed her hair. The hero mark wasn''t a slave mark, yet experience had told Astrael that the line between these circumstances was thin. In a way, heroes were indeed slaves to the gods and their churches. Old And New - Chapter 3 ¡°Viera, the Warmth. The goddess of passion, life and beauty ¨C it may very well be the only thing uniting the cities named after her. Even in foreign lands, she''s still revered in one way or another. While people like to argue about which of the two deities, Viera or Atharemine, gave birth to the world, they all agree that they each represent a very distinct image of the night. Atharemine is the silent darkness, the peaceful slumber. Viera is the fire, the sleepless night, the warm embrace. It''s no wonder they say every brothel is a temple of Viera. Most southerners will feel offended and remind you that she''s the goddess of many other noble things, but let''s not kid ourselves, she''s only widely known for being the moral opposite of Pelirise. Where do you think the exclamation ¡°by Viera''s tits!¡± comes from, eh? -fervent admirer of Viera''s teachings¡± * * * Astrael ¡°By the way, have you heard the news?¡± Joel asked from behind. Astrael buried his sickle deep into the earth. He pushed aside the drenched strands of black hair falling on his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. ¡°What''s that?¡± he said as he turned his head toward his father. The man flashed a wry grin. ¡°Seems like we won''t have to pay tribute to Callir this year.¡± ¡°Oh...¡± He caught his breath, and eventually inhaled deeply. ¡°Well... I bet we have Rina to thank.¡± ¡°Damn right you are,¡± his reply came, surprisingly sharp. ¡°It''s the least they can do to reward the village that gave birth to Xito''s champion! These pretentious bastards.¡± Astrael chuckled and gave him an equally wry smile. ¡°And yet you sound angry. Displeased, even I''d say,¡± he mocked, while knowing perfectly why his father seemed bitter. ¡°If they think they can buy my daughter with some crops...¡± he grumbled. At least his father had come to his senses. It took Joel years before he finally realized that his only daughter would be shipped away. He had always been proud, but pride had been the only thing he felt until now. Sadness and frustration were new. Soon Rina would celebrate her seventh birthday, and shortly thereafter an envoy from Callir would come here and escort her to the city. The approaching departure date of his child must have finally incited him to act like a proper father. ¡°Hah...¡± Astrael faced away and resumed his work. It was a tiring toil for his young body, but in spite of the heat and the aching muscles, he couldn''t help smiling. Joel was so obsessed with his crops and his harvests... It even took a crops-related topic to make him understand that Callir was basically trading his daughter. He seemed oddly pissed off by that realization in particular. Well, I don''t blame him for anything. He has the right to be angry, even if it''s somewhat late. Parents should not be separated from their children, especially not at such a young age. Children, indeed. It had already been some time ever since Astrael informed his parents of his decision. He had told them everything at once. That he''d go to Callir, too. That he''d watch over Rina. That he''d stay with her for some time. Of course, it didn''t go well at first. His father wanted him to become a farmer like everyone else here, so he didn''t approve immediately, unsurprisingly. His mother did not look like she was against the idea, but she was obviously uneasy because it meant having both her kids going away at the same time. It would have gone smoothly if he had had the option to speak about his past. But no child would be credible or even remotely sane-looking if he spoke about what being a hero really meant. What could a child possibly know? Even Astrael himself wouldn''t take seriously a brat coming to him and speaking about life as if he knew anything. So he used the other means he had access to. His intellect and his maturity. He spent months reading Horace''s bullcrap ballads, learning everything he could about, well, everything. If it looked like he had the traits of a genius, they''d accept his request more easily. Even Horace came to their house, telling his parents that his talents would be wasted here in the countryside. The old apothecary insisted that Astrael was gifted, that he could do great things in the city. That he''d probably become a scholar or a prominent politician, if he chose to. Though even now, I suspect Horace''s intervention wasn''t for my sake only. He used to live in Callir, surely he has an idea of how things are over there. And there must be a reason he left the city in the first place. There was that other thing, too... Horace didn''t mention anything about it to his parents, and that was even more suspicious. But whatever secrets Horace''s past may or may not have harboured, Astrael did not intend to pry. Perhaps he''d ask, one day, but for now, he was content and thankful for his influence, and for his help. Joel ended up accepting, though he still requested that Astrael helped during the harvest. And so there he was, fulfilling his side of the bargain, a side that involved wielding a sickle and carrying wheat. At noon, he was finally allowed to go back in the house and rest, while his father and the others kept working like demons. Whatever... he shrugged. They must still be overjoyed, knowing they''ll get to keep all of it this year. He let himself fall on the bed and closed his eyes, slowly giving into the fatigue. But as he was slowly falling asleep, he suddenly raised his head and jumped to his feet. He walked to the only desk in the room and opened the book he had received for one of his birthdays. ¡°An Incomplete History of Vieran Weaponry, by Euronel,¡± he read out loud in an obnoxious, satisfied voice. Despite its modest title, this book was a fairly thick, and more importantly, Astrael had to admit, a incredibly well-documented work that followed the evolution of military technologies in the Vieran cities. Said cities, located to the north-west of Callir, were known for their loose customs learned from Viera, their patron-goddess, and, to a lesser extent, for their traders, craftsmen and artists. Euronel compiled here, in this very costly illustrated encyclopedia, several centuries of discoveries and technological progress applied to the art of war. According to him, for a long time, there was debate as to which civilisations, of the western kingdoms of Dael and Paar, and the many eastern city-states, could be seen as the cutting edge of military technology, but even among the opposite side, the Vieran cities had never been looked down upon.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Though nowadays, the different cultures had blended together and there wasn''t much that could be debated about ¨C what remained of this past polemic and its conclusions, was that the Vieran had the strongest navy, and that Dael could boast more castles than any other nation. One would have to wonder, then, as to why this book spoke of inventions that originated in no way from the Vieran cities. The answer, Astrael had found long ago in Horace''s history books. The fact was that, in spite of centuries of war and peace, no one had managed to take over the entirety of the lands around the Middle Sea. There had been an inertia of sorts between these great powers, and the trade between them in times of peace had contributed to spread out the progress that had occurred during decades of arms race. Nothing I could ever complain about, Astrael thought as he concluded his own history lesson. In any case, Euronel''s book had, despite its title and to Astrael''s delight, both Vieran and western technologies compiled in it, and among all that there was quite the number of inventions that were completely new to him. ¡°This crossbow thing, for instance,¡± he muttered as he observed a detailed diagram of said weapon. ¡°Very ingenious.¡± It somewhat allows the power and the range of a bow, without requiring the training of an archer. Astrael scratched his chin as he went through his memories. I think I''ve seen what I assume to be prototypes of this thing back in my days, but they were more like siege weapons of an awfully large size. ¡°Ah, what would I do without you, my dear Euronel...¡± As he observed the drawing, his mind was already boiling. It was a perfectly unfair weapon ¨C archers were rather highly regarded for their skill and their training, even if some of the less elegant soldiers he knew used to call them sissies and whatnot. And here came the crossbow, a machine that allowed even the most inept ruffian to shoot down people at a distance. His excitement soon died down, replaced by his careful and observing nature. I guess it''s still fairly different from the bow, but, well... None of the cost of an archer''s training, one only has to pay for the weapon itself. Not that bad of a deal. Though something felt strange. This weapon still had obvious flaws. It took both strength and time to reload it, and it looked heavier and bulkier than a bow. If it had really been several centuries, perhaps even millenniums, since his time, shouldn''t there be more advanced weapons? Maybe this land was just somewhat late in terms of technological progress... Or, the reason could be completely different. I should start to accustom myself to this dreaded idea ¨C that perhaps I''ll never know where I am. Regardless, small progress was still progress. Twas better than naught. It also meant there was still room for improvement. He could become an inventor! This crossbow, for instance, could probably be upgraded, one way or another. If the spanning mechanism was improved and made easier to use, there was profit to be made here. Better yet, it would be a perfect gift for some wealthy child, preferably a prince or a young noble, what with the high-borns'' love for hunting and all that. It would be an easy way to gain their favour. ¡°...I wonder if I could build one myself.¡± It would be a nice gift for Rina, too. ¡°Build what?¡± came a voice from behind. He didn''t need to turn around to know that it was Rosa. ¡°A nasty toy, mother,¡± he answered in a playful tone, facing her. She did not seem to share his interest for murder-facilitating tools, as she was now making a complicated expression. ¡°I''m jesting,¡± he said, resigning himself to lying. ¡°I''ll probably never have to use such a thing, I was just curious.¡± Wishful thinking. He knew what sort of obstacles his sister would encounter if she really was to become a hero. His mind was made up, he''d support her to the extent of his ability ¨C and wasn''t one to do things half-heartedly. If it meant readying her for the killing, he''d do it. He''d prepare her for the hell that was the battlefield, and he''d make sure she had a damn big upper-hand. ¡°I''m just doing what I have do to,¡± he eventually said in a more composed tone. Rosa gave in and sighed. ¡°I know. I know, Astrael... It''s just... Be careful.¡± ¡°I won''t be forever at her side, if that''s what you''re worried about. I have no intention to spend my life in Callir or wherever she''ll be stuck at. There are things I want to do, mind you. I''d like to visit the cities of Viera, for instance. I''d like to travel to the kingdom of Dael, maybe even explore the eastern plains. I''m also going to Callir because I want to, not because I feel I have to.¡± ¡°I''m not worried¡±, she said, smiling. ¡°I''ve lost one child to the gods, I just hope I won''t also lose you to them. I know you''ll do a great job. I know you''ll watch over her.¡± Then her expression darkened a bit. ¡°You have to, Astrael. It is a great honour to be the chosen of Xito, and I don''t distrust the church, but I''m not a fool. Even I know that it''ll be dangerous, and that they''ll try to use her for their own purposes.¡± He kept silent, and as she looked into his eyes while caressing his cheek, he almost had the feeling she was about to cry. But she did not, and it was in a serious voice that she spoke her next words. ¡°You''re a smart child, Astrael. Smarter than any adult I know, in fact. Take care of Rina, at least until she''s capable of handling herself.¡± Gladness was what he felt at the time. He was really glad to have her as a mother, even if he couldn''t really bring himself to think of her as such. Rosa was a loving, understanding and intelligent woman. She knew that the world wasn''t the kindest of places, and more importantly, she knew to trust her children. Of course, like most mothers, she tended to worry needlessly. ¡°I will, mother. But you know... Rina is quite the smart one, too. I''ve realized that years ago.¡± The gods aren''t known to choose idiots and incompetent people as their servants. I''m the proof of it! His mother didn''t insist, and left him to his reading. Later in the day, he went in the forest, for his little secret ritual. Four empty linen pouches were dangling from his belt, as he jumped over tree trunks, rocks, bushes and tall grass. He went deep, as usual, or at least enough for him not to be disturbed by anyone. Or worse, caught red-handed. Only the sounds of nearby animals, and of his own footsteps, echoed in the wilderness. Then, he began to search. Carefully, methodically, he gathered the plants he needed. Night berries, first, or nightshade as Horace and the others here apparently called it. Next was white hellebore. It was also nicknamed the crossbowman''s plant in these lands, because huntsmen liked to steep the heads of their crossbow bolts in a juice made from white hellebore, before chasing and hunting their game. He had to leave the forest and wander around a clearing to find his personal favourite, the hemlock. This one had proved its effectiveness back in his time. While it wasn''t really in use here, from what he had heard, one couldn''t take risks. It was a relatively easy poison to find, after all, and it would be a shame to die because an assassin had decided to use this one for the deed, rather than any other popular toxin. Lastly, he needed strychnine seeds. It could be used to make cures and medicine, even said to somewhat enhance the physical prowess of the patient in some cases, according to Horace. But if one had enough skill, strychnine could also be made into a very potent poison for which there was no known antidote. A few hours later, his pouches were slightly heavier than when he entered the forest. They weren''t exactly filled, but the amount he had gathered would probably be enough for some time. Now, he only had to go to Horace''s place and turn the plants into proper, edible substances. Why had Horace even agreed to teach him how to make these poisons in the first place, Astrael could not fathom. Had he been in the old man''s shoes, he would have talked to the parents. But the man kept silent about it ¨C perhaps it was their little secret, in a way? The least Astrael could do in exchange was to avoid prying where he shouldn''t. And if push came to shove, if for some reason Horace grew a conscience and informed his parents, he could simply say that he wasn''t aware of the danger. It would be the word of an grumpy adult against a poor, innocent child''s. Needless to say, Rina wasn''t aware either. Or else, she would never let him ingurgitate these poisons, nor would she accept to eat those plant-based special treats she had sworn to keep a secret between her and her brother. Ignorance surely was bliss, especially for Astrael, who for now would rather do without his sister asking why self-administering small amounts of poison, everyday since they were six years old, was merely for their own good. Old And New - Chapter 4 ¡°Xito, the Blood. Ah... He''s the weird one of the bunch. Patron-god of... well, blood, as far as we know. The doctors like him, I guess. We do sacrifices in his name, sometimes. Gutting dead animals, draining the blood, things of the sort, yep, that''s for him. So, depending on the countries, he''s something akin to the god of death, I suppose ¨C though some prefer to see Atharemine in that role, or even Irixil and his plagues. It wouldn''t be far-fetched to see him as the god of life too, ''cause I mean, blood and all that, but hey, seriously. We already have Viera, Atharemine and Pelirise fighting for the job, isn''t that enough? -unmotivated servant of Xito¡± * * * Rina Today was the great day. The day her life would change forever. The day she''d say farewell to her parents, Horace, Rickael, and the others. The day she''d leave the village and go to Callir. She barely slept, that night. She was too excited, too anxious, too eager, too scared, too everything. Rina feared the whole thing was only a dream, and that''d she''s soon wake up ¨C then a moment after, she wished it was a dream. She wanted to go, yet she wanted to stay. All sorts of thoughts were buzzing in her mind, it was loud, frightening. She barely slept, though when dawn came, she had never felt so energetic. She sat on the bed and glanced to the side. Her brother was still sleeping, so she shook him in order to wake him up. ¡°Astrael,¡± she whispered. ¡°Astrael!¡± He grunted and finally dared to open one eye. He glared at her from the corner of it. ¡°...Hm. You seem very lively. Is today a special day?¡± You prick! She puffed up her cheeks and slapped him on the shoulder repeatedly. I know you''re doing it on purpose anyway. ¡°Fine, fine. I merely quipped, sweet sister.¡± Ha! Knew it. ¡°No need to unleash your fury on your poor brother.¡± Since she wouldn''t stop, he grumbled. ¡°Now stop hitting me or I won''t go with you to Callir.¡± She complied, even though she knew he''d still go no matter what. They got off the bed and went to wake their parents. The family had breakfast together, but the atmosphere was slightly tense. It was no surprise to Rina, however. If she was apprehending her departure, her parents were bound to share some of that nervousness too. Yes, the whole family was nervous. Except Astrael, apparently. He didn''t look like he cared about anything at all. Oh! Her mouth was agape at the sudden realization. Maybe he was excited, actually, and he didn''t sleep much? He must be angry because I woke him up. There was no way he wasn''t eager to discover the city of Callir, after all. She knew he wasn''t only going for her sake, of course. Her brother was smart ¨C smarter than any child in the village, she thought. It was only natural that he would want to go to the city. He would do great over there, she was sure of it. She could not imagine the opposite. She admired him. As far as she recalled, it had always been that way. It had been like that, too, on the day she learned about the mark. That day, she felt strange. She felt that something was wrong, that she wasn''t really the right person for the job, something along these lines. Yes, Astrael was the right person. Yet she had been the one to receive Xito''s mark. Why? It should have been Astrael. Why her? What could she do? Astrael had always been the smart one, the mature one. Always Astrael, so why? As the days went by, she had been getting more and more anxious. That mark meant responsibilities. Expectations. From everyone. A mountain of things to accomplish, half of which she didn''t even know about, but she felt all of the pressure behind it. Astrael, though, he could have done all that, she thought back then. He would have had no trouble. It should have been him, she used to repeat in her mind, it should have been him. She had been dealing with the guilt ever since that day. The feeling that she had been stealing away some great destiny that was meant for her brother. The guilt, and then, the frustration. She would not be able to do anything, the mark was a burden ¨C Astrael''s burden. Why was she the one who had to carry it? Looking back, she felt she had been harbouring very immature thoughts. She had never voiced any of that, of course. It wouldn''t have done her any good. Astrael did not speak of that matter either. He kept silent about it, right until the day he suddenly tackled the matter. He said that he''d go with her. That he''d come with her, if she wanted him to. He promised, and somehow understood what she was going through, even though no one else seemed to get it. He was her brother alright. The following days, she felt dumb. She was angry at herself, angry about the way she had been looking at her brother. With eyes full of frustration, jealousy, confusion. ¡°What''s wrong, Rina?¡± her mother inquired. ¡°Hm?¡± She snapped out of her thoughts, and realized she was frowning with her eyes fixed on Astrael. ¡°Nothing, I was just thinking,¡± she said with an embarrassed smile.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Then please don''t think too much,¡± Astrael said. ¡°I feel like it will end up killing me. I must say, beloved sister, you''re pretty violent toward me today.¡± I guess I was immature back then, she concluded, ignoring her brother''s jab, as she swallowed a chunk of hot potato. ...No, I was something like three years old, right? These were normal thoughts for someone that age. I think. She stared at her brother. He''s the weird one, not me. He''s only one year older, but I''ve never been able to guess what was going on in his mind. ¡°You''re staring again,¡± Astrael reproached. ¡°...Because you''re a messy eater,¡± she improvised. ¡°I''m not,¡± he retorted. ¡°You''re the one without manners.¡± She glanced at her bowl, and the truth reached her eyes. She was indeed the one making a mess out of her meal. ¡°That can''t be right,¡± she said while chewing loudly. ¡°I''m a lady. Clean and proper as it gets.¡± They all laughed, and then she got scolded. Rina spent the remainder of the morning walking aimlessly in her room, not daring to go outside and meet the happy villagers who would be overjoyed to bid her farewell and congratulate her. Some would even point out how lucky she was, and how this was the happiest day of her life and so on, as if they knew anything. Astrael stayed for a bit, helped their parents to prepare their luggage ¨C which was light, since aside from food, Rina would only bring a few clothes, and Astrael a couple of books. Once they were all set, he went out to see Horace before the envoy arrived. The wait was killing her. Today was the day, right? What if they were late? What if they got the wrong day? Before she knew it, noon came. And, as if to put and end to her endless worry, it seemed there was a commotion in the village. She didn''t need to think about it, she already knew what it was. It''s not like I''ve been dreading this day for, say, four years. Heh... She was starting to panic. It couldn''t be called nervousness at this stage. She was on the verge of tears. Right now, she wanted it all to go away. She didn''t want to leave. She didn''t care about the gods, about Callir, about anything. She just wanted to lie on her bed, sleep, and hope that everything would go well. She heard the hoofs of the horses trampling the ground. People were chatting outside, it made for an annoying buzzing noise. She did not know how many mounts were here ¨C five perhaps, or even ten, she had no idea. Someone yelling, making an announcement. The wheels of a carriage coming to a stop. She closed her eyes, two people had gotten out of the carriage, she believed. Though they were more than two. As the riders dismounted, she could hear the clinking of their armour. Plate! she almost heard Astrael bellow in her mind. Well, there was no one else here, but she was sure he was watching the newcomers with shiny eyes and an excited grin on his face. That''s right. What am I doing, cowering in there while he''s probably greeting them already? Rina opened her eyes, got her act together and stepped out of the house. The sun blinded her for a second, and then she saw them. Surrounded by the curious villagers, two people in dark red robes, whom she assumed to be priests. One old man, and a young woman. A dozen knights clad in shining steel, and as many horses next to them. Finally, the carriage looked like a giant box made from dark wood, and two more horses were drawing it. And here he was. Astrael, with their parents, already chatting with the priests. It seemed they were explaining why they would have to go back to Callir with two kids instead of one. ¡°Yes, yes,¡± the older man spoke in a calm voice, ¡°we were warned, worry not.¡± ¡°I see,¡± their mother said in a flustered tone. ¡°Forgive us, your excellency, we were just making sure.¡± The old priest chuckled softly. ¡°There is no harm.¡± He paused and he seemed to have spotted Rina as she moved through the crowd. ¡°And, I presume, that would be young mistress Rina?¡± He... h-he said young mistress! Rina could feel the flush heating her cheeks. It got even worse when she spotted Rickael smiling at her. She''d definitely avoid Astrael''s eyes. Her father patted her on the back and pushed her toward the priest. Now that she was close, she could see his wrinkled smiling face, and his greyish hair that echoed with the silver decorations on his red robes. ¡°Come then, Rina. No need to be shy. This is his excellency Phiramel, high-priest of Xito.¡± She had every reason to be shy, though. She was the centre of attention of the entire village, not mentioning the bunch of knights that she could feel staring at her despite having their faces hidden behind close helms. They gave off a menacing vibe, with their swords dangling at their waist, and their pikes and halberds hammered into the ground, and more importantly, the thin, dark slit on their helmets, that made them look like they weren''t human. Though what caught her attention the most was the crest painted on their armour''s breastplate. A dark red droplet running along a thorn. Similarly, other parts of the armour, such as the greases, knuckles, and pauldron, were decorated with steel castings of bramble branches. It looked ominous yet elegant at the same time. ¡°Young mistress,¡± the priestess called out. ¡°If you may?¡± She pointed to Rina''s hand. She wordlessly held out her hand, displaying her mark for all to see. The priestess and her older colleague observed the mark for a bit, and nodded to each other. ¡°One last trial, young mistress.¡± It was Phiramel who spoke this time. ¡°Nothing bothersome, but it may hurt a bit. Is that fine with you?¡± Rina simply nodded, she wouldn''t have dared to refuse even if she had not been fine with it. The old priest took out a glimmering dagger, embedded with red jewels on the pummel and displaying engravings that she couldn''t comprehend on the blade. He smiled at her and slightly poked Rina''s finger with the end of the dagger. She barely felt a pinch. The man and the woman spent the next minute staring wordlessly at the wound and at the drop of blood on the dagger. The silence was oppressing, and the villagers'' stares were perhaps even more disturbing than the mad, widened eyes of Phiramel, who looked like he was trying to see through Rina''s hand. Then she, too, began to stare at the blood. And then it happened ¨C a flash, perhaps a hallucination, but it was as if the red droplet flew back into her finger. She gasped and frowned, but before she could ask or even think about what she had just seen, Phiramel and the priestess both sighed in relief. Whatever it was, it looked like Rina had passed the test, and suddenly she had lost the courage to inquire if others had witnessed the same thing. I''m probably tired, she concluded half-heartedly. They''ll look at me like I''m a crazy if I start to ask stupid things... ¡°Well then,¡± the priest said while he wiped the dagger clean and wound clothes around it before putting it back somewhere under his robes, ¡°let us not linger here. I know this is sudden, but we should return to Callir as soon as we can.¡± Before Rina could suck the wound on her finger, the priestess kneeled to bandage it. The woman then addressed the parents. ¡°We''ll give you some time together, and then we''ll be on our way.¡± Old And New - Chapter 5 ¡°Atharemine, the Night. Goddess of darkness and dreams. Some say that she''s the mother of the world, that from the realm of gods, she created the human realm, and the Abyss underneath it. Others claim that she''s the Abyss itself, from where demons and nightmares are born. Regardless, she''s well-liked, and the continent is dotted with sanctuaries to her name, places that gather tired people who cannot find sleep anywhere else. -traveller¡± * * * Astrael As the carriage was drawn further and further away from the village, their parents'' figures shrank gradually. He could barely see them waving now, yet Rina did not look like she was about to stop. She was holding back her tears, that much he could see, as she waved her hand in mechanical motions, eyes fixed in the distance, ignoring the few knights that were making up the rear guard. Perhaps she wasn''t even looking at anything now. In any case, she certainly wasn''t noticing how one of them was smiling back at her, with his helmet off. Damn, I expected her to blush and hide. L-look, Astrael, the knight is smiling at me! Something of the sort. But Rina seemed too preoccupied by their departure and their parents to care about that knight. Well, it''s not as if she''ll never see them again. They can come visit anytime, and who knows, maybe she''ll be allowed to return to the village from time to time. Astrael turned away to face the inside of the carriage. They had been told that the trip would take a few days, and even though he would not have minded a rough and cramped environment, their transportation was surprisingly luxurious, for what it was. The seats were large and could be used as beds, there were fur covers, cushions and rugs. Windows on each side, and openings at the front and the rear, that could be closed with thick curtains. He noticed a single oil lamp, probably for the reading of religious texts in the evening. Seems like they did their best so that we could have a comfortable journey. The knights, of course, would be camping under the stars and keeping watch in turns. He had done that a lot, back in his days, but right now he wouldn''t trade his place in the comfortable carriage for anything in the world. His delicate and youthful body needed care and tenderness, and neither of these words could be associated with hard rocky ground. Phiramel was sitting on a cushion, a large and heavy-looking book resting in his knees. Astrael could not see the title from this angle, but the cover was made from dark red leather ¨C it was all he needed to know. The high-priest was reading the scriptures of Xito, a text that should not have have much in terms of originality when compared to the other scriptures of the five other gods. They basically all said the same things, albeit in a different style. Astrael really wasn''t in the mood for some good old religious exchange, so he was content with leaving Phiramel to his reading. The priestess, on the other hand, wasn''t reading, but praying. Or at least, she was muttering words that occasionally reached Astrael''s ears. Long strands of brown hair flowing from under her hood. He realized only now that she must have been in her twenties at most. Well, in any case, she seemed busy. Now I''m in a pinch. He was bored, there was nothing to do here. Or perhaps he could ask one of these knights to let him ride their horse? He would have to teach his body how to ride, at some point. Meh. I don''t think they''d accept. He glanced to the side to see Rina now curled up in a ball, still staring at the horizon. Astrael, as the good brother that he was, knew it was best not to talk to her right now. She probably wanted to be left alone, and she''d get back to her usual self later. In the meantime, he grabbed a cover that was laying around and put it on his sister''s shoulders. ...I don''t know why I did that, he thought, frowning. It''s not that cold yet. But it felt proper and stylish. The priestess giggled, as she must have witnessed the scene. He stared back at her, until she made an awkward smile. ¡°Hm... Apologies,¡± he said to her, ¡°but I''m afraid I didn''t catch your name back then.¡± The awkward smile became a kind, genuine one. ¡°It''s quite alright, I had not introduced myself. Julia, priestess of-¡± ¡°-of Pelirise, perhaps?¡± he said with a grin. She did not take offence in the joke and even made an amused expression, so that was a good start. ¡°Forgive my poor manners,¡± he eventually continued. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, sister Julia.¡± ¡°Likewise, Astrael. You parents said you were quite the clever child, and I must say, their warnings didn''t do you justice. You seem far worse than they make you out to be.¡± ¡°Never trust parents. They''ll always be biased one way or another.¡± Julia raised a brow. ¡°Spoken like a true eight year-old... who takes advantage of his parents'' biased judgement, if I may say so.¡± ¡°That describes me perfectly,¡± he retorted, putting his hand on his chest. Her statement had infinitely more truth to it than she could possibly imagine, and he had to suppress a laugh. ¡°You have a way with words, sister Julia.¡± ¡°And so do you. You could surely become a flatterer in Callir.¡± ¡°Astrael will become a royal advisor, like Euronel.¡± That high-pitched voice could''ve only been Rina''s. Is she already over it? I see you don''t love our parents as much as I thought you did! She was still curled up under the fur cover, but her eyes weren''t teary anymore. Phiramel apparently found it relevant to join in the conversation at this precise moment. ¡°Oh, like Euronel, you say! Now that would be one unusual pair of siblings we would have here.¡± His speech sounded much less formal now that he wasn''t surrounded by a crowd of villagers in awe. The real Phiramel was, as it appeared, much more laid back than one would think at first glance. ¡°Imagine that, Julia. The young mistress, champion of Xito and her brother, royal advisor.¡± Hearing the priest calling her young mistress, Rina blushed yet again. As for Julia, she put her index on her chin, as if she was really imagining it. ¡°That''d be a sight,¡± she concluded in a half-mocking tone. Astrael shrugged in face of such a forced enthusiasm. ¡°Pity me, then, for I missed the monarchy by several decades. I assume you don''t have a king or two laying around in Callir?¡± Julia bit her lips and Phiramel laughed heartily, before taking a more serious tone. ¡°You might want to avoid joking about these matters in Callir, the last king only left us with bad memories. That''s why he was the last king, by the way.¡± He motioned for his neck in a cutting gesture. Ah, that''s unneeded advice. I don''t intend to antagonize any of the political factions of the city-state. ¡°Thank you for your kind advice, your excellency.¡± He still had to act the part of the clueless child. There were things he wasn''t supposed to know, things one couldn''t find in books. Nevertheless, Callir may not be in need of kings anymore, but surely advisors would still find people to advise, regardless of place and time. They spent the afternoon chatting about many things and getting acquainted with each other. Rina''s shyness quickly went away, and whatever nervousness she had in the morning was now replaced with eagerness and impatience to see and learn about the city and its temple. Evening came. The sun was about to disappear behind the trees bordering the road when they finally made camp. The knight who had been smiling at Rina earlier taught them how to start a fire, and Julia showed them how to set up the cookware around a campfire. Nothing new to Astrael, obviously, so he just sat back and chew his dried meat while Rina and the priestess were watching the boiling vegetables.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The smiling knight introduced himself as Leon, son of a noble of Callir. Despite his birth, he appeared to be kind and curious, and he gave another of his charismatic grins which made Rina cover her face instantaneously and spilling her soup everywhere. Truly, that girl was easily impressed by knights, and more generally, boys. This again... I see the customs found in Horace''s books are more deeply anchored than I thought. Alas! Unfortunately for you, dear sister, he thought as he heard Julia chuckling at one of Leon''s jokes, it seems you have a rival. And she made it abundantly clear she was aware of that. Rina was glaring at the priestess, frowning harder than she ever had and pursing her lips in the most grotesque fashion, and then resorted to pouting when she understood that her display of jealousy was reaching neither her beloved knight, nor the enemy monopolizing his attention. I shall root for you. He nodded to himself, then sighed. Though I do hope it''ll pass as you grow older. ¡°Who goes there!¡± echoed a voice in the calm, darkening sky, and Astrael snapped out of his thoughts. Trouble? Probably not, he guessed. One would have to be stupid to antagonize an important religious figure and its guards. Still, he looked around and spotted the knight who had yelled the warning. Some of the templars gathered around Phiramel and Rina, while Leon and the others stepped forward and went to see what it was all about. Behind the row of bodyguards, Astrael caught glimpses of the other party. A caravan of some sort, albeit a small one, with two or three carriages at best. He could see people inside, and then some on horseback and on feet, though only the riders seemed to be armed. ¡°And who''re you, o knights in shiny armour?¡± one of the riders asked with a thick accent. Rina''s beloved smiling knight was the one to answer. ¡°I would be Leon Feanir, captain of the bloodsguard,¡± he said coldly. Astrael could have sworn that the riders stiffened when they heard that. ¡°What''s your business?¡± ¡°We''re just transporting our goods from Callir to the coast,¡± the foreigner said as he motioned toward the carriages, and the people ¨C they were chained. Leon tilted his head to see behind the man, and grunted in acknowledgement of the truth. ¡°We''d like to pass now, and set up camp before nightfall.¡± ¡°Sure enough. Do that far away from here, we don''t want any slavers near his excellency.¡± ¡°Oh...¡± the rider leaned forward and squinted his eyes. ¡°I hadn''t realized it was his excellency Phiramel hiding behind your colleagues.¡± He chuckled and gave a sly look to Leon. ¡°What''s with these child servants I see there? Ah, not that I care for a churchman''s penchants, mind you.¡± ¡°Watch your tongue!¡± Leon bellowed as he griped the handle of his sword. The slavers reached for their weapons too, and some of the knights even showed off a few centimetres of steel. The foreigner wasn''t laughing anymore, not even grinning, ready to unsheathe the short sword at his waist. Astrael, still seated, instinctively grabbed a rock that was laying near his hand. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Leon exhaled deeply and scoffed. ¡°...Be on your way, now.¡± The rider let out one last snicker and the caravan started to move again, the chains of the slaves jingling as they followed the horses and carriages. Once the caravan had disappeared from their sight, the knights allowed themselves to relax. The group resumed their supper, but the atmosphere was now tense. Rina, who hadn''t said a word since then, came to her brother, and he could guess she had a question in mind. ¡°What will happen to the slaves?¡± ¡°They''ll be sold,¡± he stated as a matter of fact, but it didn''t look like it was what worried Rina. ¡°Why didn''t Leon save them?¡± she whispered. Astrael raised a brow, thought for a bit, but there wasn''t anything to think about really. That hadn''t changed since his time. ¡°Why should he? It''s against the law.¡± Rina did not answer and tried her best to hide her confused expression. The conversation died down and they went to bed. As some of the knights were keeping watch, Julia and Phiramel quickly fell asleep, leaving Astrael and Rina on their own. They were lying down side by side and since neither of them were feeling sleepy yet, Astrael decided to light the oil lamp. He rummaged in his belongings until he took out Euronel''s book on politics and warfare. Rina immediately noticed it. ¡°Oh, isn''t that Horace''s book?¡± ¡°He gifted it to us before we left. You were too busy hiding in the house at the time, though.¡± ¡°Us?¡± she wondered while making an expression that showed she believed the book to be Astrael''s more than anyone else''s. ¡°Well, why not? You''ll have to read it eventually.¡± Rina rolled in the covers, until her belly faced down and her chin rested on the cushion. ¡°Warfare, huh.¡± ¡°There''s much more to it than warfare, and you''re... we''re somewhat too young for sword wielding and battle plans, aren''t we? Diplomacy, little sister, diplomacy. And politics, more generally. It should be your priority.¡± She frowned. ¡°Sounds complicated... I think I like warfare better,¡± she said nonchalantly, though Astrael knew that she did not mean it. She wouldn''t learn about fighting and all that until she was older, so for now she would have to practise other skills. There was so much the masters at the temple wouldn''t teach her. How to lie and deceive. How to flatter, to feign ignorance, to intimidate. How to fight cowardly and survive. Be it in the city or on the battlefield, she needs to learn that anyone can become her enemy. He glanced to the side, in case there was a knight near the carriage. He then focused on the noises around them. The guards had made their own camp on a clearing on the other side of the road, and the ones who where patrolling didn''t sound like they were in the vicinity. Phiramel and Julia''s breathing was slow and steady, so it was safe to assume they were both asleep. ¡°Here''s the first lesson, young mistress,¡± he whispered in her ear. He couldn''t see with the flickering light of the lamp, but he was sure she was blushing. ¡°Trust no one,¡± he simply said. It wasn''t as if her expression denoted confusion, but he carried on just in case. ¡°Especially when we arrive in Callir. Not the templars, nor the priests. Don''t trust the beggars or the slaves either. Just because they look miserable and humble doesn''t mean they''re nice and sympathetic. Assume everyone is trying to trick you or to take advantage of you. Don''t even trust Leon and Phiramel.¡± She didn''t answer and simply gazed at the oil lamp. Eventually, she sighed. ¡°Not even Leon and Phiramel, you say... they do seem nice, though.¡± ¡°Of course they do. Sweet sister, you''re about to become one of the most prominent figures in the city, there isn''t a single person aware of that fact who wouldn''t try to get on your good side. And you can be sure of one thing. All these laughing, smiling people you''ll meet, they won''t be having as much fun as they''d like you to think. They''ll feel frustrated for having to suck up to a child your age, without a doubt.¡± ¡°But... even you, you sounded like you enjoyed talking with them.¡± It seemed she was still fixated on the knight and the high-priest. Understandable, especially regarding Leon, but she had to come up with the right habits sooner rather than later. ¡°Ah, I sure did. That doesn''t mean I trust them. You saw how Phiramel put up that composed, kind facade in the village. Who''s to say he wasn''t simply acting friendly this afternoon, too?¡± She was now making the same nervous expression from this morning. Perhaps he had gone too far. ¡°Still. It''s not as if you''ll only meet nefarious people. Some of them will display genuine kindness, but until you find reliable allies, be wary.¡± I should be attracting enough attention with my child prodigy act, anyway. I would''ve preferred to lay low for some time, but... I guess it''ll serve as a good example for her. She still looked like she was tormented by something. Perhaps it had to do with the slaves? Yes, she was probably disappointed with Leon. Even though he had just told her that the knight wasn''t necessarily the kind man she saw him as. Nevertheless, he asked, so that she could clear her clouded mind and heart. ¡°What are you fretting about?¡± ¡°...I-¡± She paused and glanced sideways. ¡°...What if one day I become a slave? Will no one try to save me because it''s against the law?¡± He almost let out a surprised chuckle. Her concerns were far more self-centred than he had thought. But he would rather have a sister with selfish worries, than one with some dangerous abnegation tendencies. ¡°I guess... if it happens, I''ll free you, of course. If I can''t buy you back, I''ll steal you. If I can''t steal you, I''ll kill whoever gets in my way,¡± he eventually said in a nonchalant, merry voice. No need for her to take that too seriously. The mere idea that the hero of Xito would be enslaved was absurd. She belonged to the gods now, or at least to the church. However he couldn''t help comparing slaves and heroes again, and that made him feel bitter. But for all intents, his answer had somehow managed to satisfy her. Seeing that after a while Rina was struggling to keep her eyes open, Astrael was about to put out the lamp, when he decided to check something. ¡°I''ll just change your bandage,¡± he whispered as he unwrapped the piece of cloth around Rina''s finger, and froze. He wasn''t sure because of the poor light, but Phiramel must have already confirmed it by testing her with the dagger earlier in the day. It should have left a small cut, even a shallow one. Yet there was no wound. Not only her finger... Now that I think about it, I don''t remember her ever hurting herself while playing. There had never been any wound, anywhere. Or rather, there had never been a lasting wound or a scar. She has Xito''s blessing indeed, he concluded as he blew the lamp and went to sleep. He had been planning to do some reading that night, but perhaps it was for the best. Vacations were over, he needed to be fully rested and on his guard at all times from now on. The next days went well, without any issue of any sort. Already he could see that Rina was becoming more careful in her wording when she discussed with the priests. Less than half a week after leaving the village, the city Callir could be seen in the horizon ¨C the tall walls made from sand-coloured stone, barely hiding the hill that went almost as high as the fortifications themselves, and finally the keep atop of it. The only other building that could be seen from here was a pyramid of some sorts, that Astrael assumed to be the temple. They were scheduled to arrive at noon, and it seemed they''d be right on time. Thorns That Grow - Chapter 6 ¡°Sazin, the Sword. Patron-god of warriors and craftsmen. It is said the smiths of old prayed to him as they forged their weapons, and that they were able to create blades that could even repel demons. Nowadays, smiths don''t pray much, and warriors have little faith left in them when they see their comrades falling one by one under the orders of an idiot commander. Oh, there''s plenty of these pretty knights praying to Pelirise, though. But put an army before them and they''ll promptly retreat and hide in the rear. Sazin''s era, the era of the braves, ''tis over, I tell you. -disenchanted swordsman¡± * * * Astrael Callir was larger than most towns he had ever seen, but still smaller than the great capitals he had visited. As they closed in on the city, Astrael sat next to the coachman, from where could observe the fortifications. He guessed that the southern wall, around the gate through which they''d be entering, was about ten meters tall, but the height would probably vary here and then. The beige walls were scattered with large, square towers, and even bigger ones could be found on each side of the gates. Machicolations and murder-holes everywhere, as far as he could see, and guards patrolling behind the battlements. A river was running alongside the western face of the city, and, as he remembered reading about, also flanked the northern face ¨C which had more to do with a fortified cliff than a proper wall, according to Horace ¨C and offered an additional protection for the keep. He was about to conclude his observation of Callir''s defences when he caught a glimpse of a depression in the ground near the walls. ¡°What''s this?¡± he asked Phiramel, who was behind him, as he studied the mysterious crevice. The high-priest squinted his eyes and he searched for the place Astrael was pointing to. ¡°Ah,¡± he exclaimed once he noticed it. ¡°An all too forgotten and abandoned digging site.¡± ¡°A moat, I presume.¡± ¡°That would be it.¡± Hmm... He rubbed his chin as they passed near the depression. I recall Euronel mentioning a moat project in his book. I guess they never finished it. Well, that should be enough like that. He merely wanted to confirm that the city was a safe place. Were the city-state under threat, he doubted Rina would be in real danger since she''d be among the most protected citizens, but still. Heroes making their appearance meant times of turmoil in the near future, and he''d feel uneasy knowing that his sister wasn''t living in a properly fortified town. Not that she would spent all her life behind these walls. The church would think of that as a waste. ¡°Woah!¡± Astrael turned his head to see what had caught his sister''s attention. Rina was looking the other way, toward the gates, where a market of sorts was taking place. Traders and travellers were setting up stalls and tents outside the walls. Guards were arguing with merchants, slaves and carriages were going in and out, travellers were checking out merchandise and negotiating, every single being in this curious settlement were busying themselves with one thing or another. ¡°Why are they doing business here?¡± Rina wondered. The high-priest pointed to the guards at the entrance. ¡°That, young mistress, is because they don''t want to pay the toll to enter.¡± ¡°They chose to do commerce outside the walls,¡± Julia pitched in from inside the carriage, ¡°even though they have less customers, rather than being taxed on their merchandise and sell the rest in the city.¡± Rina wore a nervous expression and voiced her concerns. ¡°Will we be taxed, too?¡± Hearing that, Julia chuckled and caressed the girl''s cheek with the back of her fingers. ¡°No, young mistress, worry not. We are not merchants, and carry no goods of any sort. Even if that was the case, we members of the church ¨C and you''re one of us now ¨C are allowed to go in and out as it pleases us.¡± ¡°What about my brother?¡± she then asked in an innocent tone, of which only Astrael could understand the deceptiveness. He couldn''t help smiling to himself, seeing her sister in action already. ¡°He''s not officially with the church, is he?¡± Julia glanced at him, and he replied with a smile. ¡°Astrael is a guest of the church, you may say. And if someone is stupid enough to have a problem with that, Phiramel and I will vouch for him.¡± So if it wasn''t for the fact that Rina is my sister, I''d be dependant on these two''s goodwill, eh? ¡°I''m sure no one will dare troubling our hero''s brother,¡± Phiramel interjected. A most accurate statement, Astrael reckoned. In all likelihood, people would act kindly toward Astrael, simply because he was her sibling. Just another way of gaining her favour.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. As the carriage and the knights passed through the market, onlookers gathered and wondered among themselves what it was all about. Whispers and mutters were exchanged, and Astrael could hear them wondering who could possibly afford such a knightly escort. Phiramel ushered everyone inside the carriage and Julia made sure that Rina was kept hidden from prying eyes, while Astrael was left alone to his spying through the slit between the curtains. The crowd was slowing down the carriage, and so Leon bellowed to them. ¡°Make way! Make way for his excellency!¡± It was obvious that the church wanted to avoid Rina''s identity being revealed to the public. Be it because she''s still a child, or because they fear spies in the streets, they must have their reasons. He deemed wiser not to ask ¨C yet ¨C and kept observing the crowd in silence. While traders and customers showed interest in the commotion, the slaves kept working without interruption, accompanying their masters through the stalls, carrying merchandise, watching over the goods, and so on. I should perhaps buy a slave or two once we''re settled, if I''m to set up a workshop or start a business of some sort... Designing plans and diagrams I can do even with this body, but carrying stuff and hammering nails... I can hardly see myself doing all the heavy lifting. His parents had left them a bit of silver, but it wouldn''t be nearly enough to accomplish Astrael''s goals, even more so if he decided to listen to his whims and open a shop or something. He would have to decide on a way to earn money, among all the methods he had thought of before coming there. The obvious ones were to rely on the temple or on Rina''s status, but there would probably be better options to be found once he would have gained more insight on the current political and financial powerhouses in Callir. The guards stiffened as the templars went in, then immediately blocked the way once the carriage had passed through the gates, as to prevent sneaky knaves from taking advantage of the event and entering the city freely with unauthorized merchandise. Astrael followed the scene, watching from his initial peeking location, then via the window, and finally through the curtains at the rear. Some bellowing man attempted to pass himself for a merchant, and was thrown on the ground as he tried to force his way through. He was then dragged away in some guard room and, though Astrael couldn''t see anymore from this angle, he could hear the beating. At least the security at the gates doesn''t look too lax, he thought as he finally sat back in the carriage, crossing his arms. ¡°Mind giving us a tour of the city?¡± he then wondered. Julia shook her head and gave him a wry smile. ¡°I''m afraid we won''t have time today. The young mistress needs to be introduced to the church members, and to be shown around the temple.¡± He could only shrug. ¡°Figures.¡± ¡°We''re on the main street right now though, as it is the shortest route to the temple, so feel free to look.¡± Astrael complied and peeked through the window once more, and so did Rina. That''s a main street indeed if I ever saw one, he reckoned. If he thought the gates were crowded, then what could he say about that? The street was large enough for carriages and riders to pass each other, while inhabitants walked pretty much everywhere and in every direction. From the regular citizens attending their affairs in the city, to the prominent noble on horseback with an escort, even the slaves carrying luggage, the workers moving logs, the beggars trying to steal a fruit from a merchant''s crate, every single person gave an impression of purpose. Even the prowlers and lurkers were busy prowling and lurking, raising some of that sandy dust as they dragged their feet in shady alleys and around corners. And the smell... It smelled as a city should, of sweat, piss and faeces, of the occasional perfumed lady, of harsh fumes and dark smokes from workshops... Nothing he couldn''t handle, but Rina looked disturbed. It was different from the smell of the farm and the cattle, surely she was surprised. Still, she did her best to hide her discomfort, and her brother was the only one who could see her slight frown and her pursed lips from this angle. But that wasn''t all, it was also noisy. Between the horses, the chatting wanderers, the yelling merchants, Astrael could barely hear his own thoughts. Though the noise and the agitation seemed to dim a little around them. Onlookers gazing at the street from the windows of their houses bellowed to each other and lowered their voices a bit once they spotted the church''s carriage, kids sitting on stairs suddenly got up as they noticed the knights, and pedestrians stepped aside without anyone asking them to. Saying that the church of Xito was an important faction in the city felt like an understatement. Quite different from the Xito I know. He had not many followers, he wasn''t exactly well-known, or even well-liked. To most people who had heard of him, Xito was no better than an ominous god, and I don''t blame them for being wary of him. With an attribute like that... He scoffed. The Blood... It makes it sound like he''s the god of blood magic or whatever. And, well, in some of these lands where Xito wasn''t trusted much, being suspected of blood magic was the sort of thing that would earn someone a seat at the stake. He stepped away from the carriage''s window for a bit, and glanced at his sister. She, too, had no idea what being a servant of Xito entailed, beyond the loyalty to the church. If Pelirise was the virtuous shield, the abnegation and the selflessness, all bathed in sunlight of course, then Xito was the darker counterpart. The painful abandonment, the corporal sacrifice. The rags soaked in one''s own blood. At least that was how his former comrade saw it, though it was clear to Astrael that the guy had sanity issues. But that was enough reminiscing ¨C the past was the past. His sister was the chosen one now, and she would handle her Duty her own way. She''d make use of the blessing as she saw fit. Even though I hope she won''t have to make use of it at all. ¡°Young mistress,¡± Julia said to Rina, who was still observing the city through the window, ¡°we''ll soon arrive at the main plaza, where the temple is located. If you may, please put this on before exiting the carriage.¡± She handed her out a bright crimson gown ¨C a stronger red than the one the priests were wearing, probably a proof of her rank ¨C and a darker cloak to wear over it. Both clothings had silver embroidery here and there, resembling bramble branches and thorns. Yeah, the obsession with thorns and all that... He rolled his eyes. Xito''s followers haven''t changed, there is just more of them. ¡°The gown will be your formal attire,¡± Julia added, ¡°and we''d rather have you wearing it at all times. From this day on, you''re a symbol, after all.¡± By the time Rina had clothed herself, the carriage had stopped. Someone opened the curtains at the rear, and Astrael could see a bunch of knights keeping watch, in addition to the ones that were already escorting them. Phiramel got off first, and greeted some priests that were waiting outside. They exchanged a couple of words while casting a few glances inside the carriage, and eventually Phiramel nodded and motioned for Julia, Rina and Astrael to come. ¡°Don''t forget your hood,¡± Julia reminded the girl. ¡°What about Astrael?¡± Rina asked while she covered her head. She looked like a princess in exile, her face half hidden and her long lustrous raven hair flowing out. ¡°Is my pitiful peasant clothing not to your liking, young mistress?¡± he mocked. She kicked him on the shin. ¡°I don''t think it''ll cause any issue,¡± Julia declared in an amused voice. ¡°I''m not sure the young mistress'' brother is the type to hide under a cloak, anyway.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Astrael asserted as he stepped out with his head held high. The girls followed him, though he made sure to let his sister walk in front and get all the attention. It wouldn''t do if it looked like he was the chosen one, with Julia and Rina mistaken as his maidservants or something. They were led toward the large and tall pyramidal building he had spotted earlier. A row of columns at the top of a volley of stairs surrounded the oak gates. They opened slowly, theatrically perhaps, and Phiramel finally greeted them with a sentence he had probably been dreaming of saying for years, if not decades. ¡°Welcome to the temple of Xito, young mistress.¡± Thorns That Grow - Chapter 7 ¡°Ever since the monarchy has been overthrown, the city of Callir was ruled through a council of prominent citizens. This government is exclusively composed of high-borns, even though it''s supposed to be popular. The temple, of course, works hand in hand with the nobility, and in the end Callir is controlled by whichever houses manage to get the backing of the churchmen. We''ve traded a single king for a whole bunch of them. -anonymous citizen¡± * * * Rina Behind the gates was another group of waiting priests. Among them, two were standing out ¨C they were the oldest people she had ever seen, truly. Phiramel introduced them briefly. Elder Therenus seemed old enough to be her great-great-grand-father, if such a thing was possible, and she noticed he was blind in one eye. For all she knew, he could have been two hundred years old, because if anyone deserved to the title of elder, it was him alright. Viriane was a woman of a slightly younger age than the elder, though it was clear she was still much older than everyone else. Despite her age she stood straight, with a stern expression. Phiramel had called her the sibyl, but Rina had no idea what it meant, and did not dare to ask in front of everyone. She was told they would have the opportunity to meet and discuss more extensively later in the day, after supper, where she would be introduced to the rest of the churchmen. Something about an evening mass. They stepped in the entrance hall of the temple, and she was dazzled. The room was enormous, massive pillars supported the tall arched ceiling, and because of the dimness she had to squint her eyes to observe the detailed frescos up there. At first glance, these paintings were telling of the past deeds of heroes and jousting knights, of colossal battles and armies facing off, and of demons creeping out of the darkness. Rina had no idea who, when, and what was depicted up there, but even in her ignorance she immediately knew that these pictures were important. She had that feeling. Even Astrael looked like he was impressed. In fact, he was dragging his feet behind the group, eyes fixed toward the paintings on the ceiling. He had a strange expression, a sort of gleam in his eyes. Or is it a tear? she wondered, but she couldn''t see much since with the open gates at his back, his figure was against the light. I guess he''s moved by the beauty of all this... As she walked across the hall, accompanied by an army of priests and knights, the sound of their footsteps against the smooth slabs echoed in the otherwise silent temple and only served to further intimidate anyone who''d enter. Before she knew it, she was leading the group. She didn''t even know where to go or what she was supposed to do. Yet she walked, toward a statue at the end of the hall. A strange statue. Curious. She couldn''t keep her eyes off it once she noticed it. She wasn''t even trying to look away, in truth. It wasn''t that she couldn''t ¨C she didn''t want to. It was enthralling. Before the statue was an altar, made from marble. Rina only saw it because it was in her field of vision, but her entire being was focused on the stone figure that was overlooking the altar. The figure she kept staring at, no matter what. A most ominous statue, naked and kneeling, but of a gender unknown and hidden. Its arms were raised in front of its chest, offering its palms toward the sky as a finely sculpted trickle of blood flowed from its wrists. Bramble branches were wrapped around all of its limbs, and here, too, there was blood, running along the figure''s body, from the wounds made by the piercing thorns. The face could have been masculine or feminine, Rina wouldn''t know. But there was neither pain nor suffering in its expression. Only a peaceful resignation could be deciphered on these features. It was disturbing for sure, yet oddly soothing. ...Who is this? She turned around and searched for Phiramel or Julia with her eyes, meaning to ask them about the statue, but she was surprised to see that everyone had taken their distance. They were watching her with care, as if they were witnessing some grand spectacle. Even Viriane''s stern eyes had been replaced with a look of reverence. I really, really hope this isn''t the sort of place where everyone claps their hands and cheers every time you fart or move a finger... But it was obvious they were expecting something out of her, or currently misunderstanding her curiosity for something much more impressive. Left in the dark regarding whatever they were waiting for, she could only curse at her predicament. What should I do... She spotted Astrael, and tried to beg with her eyes for a miraculous solution. He simply motioned for the statue with his head, and raised the corners of his mouth. Thank you, brother, she grumbled internally. You''re so helpful. Rina stared at the statue once more, but she still had no idea what to do. Everyone kept looking at her. She had to do something, before they started to whisper among themselves. What if they looked down on her because she made a blunder on her first day? Why was no one telling her anything? Why had no one bothered to explain her what to do? Her hands were starting to shake, so she hid them in her sleeves. But then her legs were shaking too, and her heart began to beat rapidly. She felt hot, nervous and anxious. She felt like crying. And here they came ¨C the whispers. She glanced to the side, to see who it was, and the sight wasn''t one she had been expecting. It was Astrael, muttering something in Phiramel''s ear, and the high-priest nodded repeatedly as he listened carefully. Eventually, they exchanged smiles and the old man neared Rina.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Shall we move on, young mistress? Or do you perhaps wish to remain here for the time being?¡± Err... I don''t know. I just want to go away and die... ¡°What should I do?¡± she eventually whispered, low enough so that only Phiramel could hear. He raised a brow and suppressed a chuckle. ¡°You can do whatever you wish to do. All of us here were simply surprised, since you walked straight to the statue of the first chosen all by yourself.¡± She felt really dumb once she had fully grasped what he meant. ¡°They are already impressed by your purity and genuineness,¡± he continued, glancing toward the priests and knights. Rina did so too, and saw they all had looks of awe and respect. She had no idea such a mundane action could appear so important. Astrael didn''t lie when he said I was underestimating the attention I would attract. In any case, it was wiser to keep silent about her ignorance, so instead of babbling something stupid that would show her carelessness, she acted her role a bit. ¡°I was wondering what was the altar for,¡± she said in an indifferent tone. ¡°Ah. You need not worry about it now,¡± Phiramel assured. ¡°It shall be used for the consecration, when you come of age.¡± She observed the altar more intently. It didn''t look like the thing was used at all, as the marble was impeccable and without a single scratch. So is it only used whenever a hero appears? Phiramel motioned for the stairs on the side of the hall, and so they began to walk there, while Therenus, Viriane and some other church members left them to attend some other business. ¡°What happens at the consecration?¡± Rina inquired. ¡°That... as I said, is something for a later time.¡± She had an odd feeling, and didn''t really appreciate the high-priest denying her answers, but she kept silent nonetheless and climbed the stairs, glancing back to make sure Astrael followed. She waited for him to catch up once they had reached the first floor, believing that they''d be visiting it, but it turned out they still had to go up. ¡°Why is the statue like that?¡± she asked as they climbed another volley of stairs. If she couldn''t ask about the altar and the consecration, she''d be damn sure to ask about everything else. The high-priest looked like he had just realized his mistake. Yes, I''m the young mistress, am I not? I''m a child, curious and innocent, I can''t stop babbling and asking about stupid little things. Now, answer my questions. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean, why is it neither male nor female? Do we not know the identity of Xito''s first champion?¡± ¡°Err... We do not. There aren''t many records old enough to mention anything about that era. These were very ancient days that would now be forgotten, were it not for the six heroes and their legend that prevailed through the passage of time.¡± ¡°How ancient, would you say?¡± Astrael interjected. He had very intense eyes, so much that Rina felt compelled to look away. Phiramel shrugged. ¡°Who knows. We aren''t talking about centuries here, but probably millenniums. A lot of history is missing between the age of the first champions, and our current era.¡± Her brother wore a disappointed face, but he apparently quickly got over whatever was bothering him. ¡°I''m glad children like you are taking such an interest in the history of our church,¡± the priest added. I am supposed to become its symbol, why are you surprised? It would be weird for a servant of Xito to completely disregard the lore and the traditions of its church. Somehow, it was strange. Phiramel was kind, or at least he was putting on a kind facade, as Astrael surmised, but she was annoyed by the way he was treating her both like an idiot and a supernatural existence. He was showing wonder and awe for everything she did, yet reminded her every time that he wasn''t actually expecting a child to display intelligence. But I guess my position is special? I don''t think I would know how to handle someone in my circumstances either. I imagine it is like dealing with a young prince or lord... She indeed felt like she was a princess, what with her court and all that. Knights following her every step, priests and priestesses waiting for her to create a miracle of some sort, and now, ever since they were on the second floor, maidservants. Maidservants! My very own servants! The second floor was apparently where most of the church members lived. She was told she would have her own quarters at the top of the temple, along with the high ranking priests, but there was apparently the need to visit this floor. Her court stayed behind, and only Julia, Phiramel, her brother and her went on. They stopped at a door, and the high-priest opened it. ¡°This would be your room, Astrael. It''s a bit cramped, but you''ll have to bear with it for now. We had no time to accommodate for your presence.¡± Rina was seething internally. It was obviously a lie, they had been warned that Astrael would come along, Phiramel even said so himself at the village. Is this their way to remind him that he is merely a guest? ¡°Needless to say,¡± Julia said, ¡°you are free to wander around and explore the temple, save for a few rooms. I hope you''re not too disappointed?¡± ¡°Oh, I understand perfectly,¡± he replied nonchalantly. ¡°It''s more than I expected, so don''t mind me.¡± Rina grunted at her brother''s display of indifference, but voiced none of her protests. It wouldn''t do to make a commotion here and now, and for such a small matter, she had to reckon bitterly. She would surely be able to argue about little things of the sort once she had strengthened her position in the church. Or at least, I assume this is what Astrael would do... ¡°We will now show you to your private chambers, young mistress. Then we shall have a meal, for you must certainly be hungry, before we carry on with the visit.¡± They went back to the stairs, and climbed several floors this time. Eventually, they reached their destination, and Rina was impressed yet again. She couldn''t have expected this. The last floor was in fact the roof, where a sort of vast residence housed the prominent members of the church. It seemed that Phiramel, Viriane and Therenus, among others, were living here, and she wondered how the elder managed to deal with the stairs. Maybe he had slaves to carry him? Maybe he spent most of his time here... A beautiful garden with trees, bushes, and a fountain in the centre, surrounded with galleries supported by arches and giving access to several rooms. Calling this floor a palace would not have been too much of an exaggeration. It was no less than a little chunk of paradise in Rina''s eyes. Julia explained that one could see the city from the balconies and windows in the rooms, which obviously made her very eager to do so. But even from here, she could see the top of the keep standing taller than the temple, as it was built on the hill. She had been told that lords were ruling the city in this building, and she wondered if they could see the garden from the keep. Astrael looked over the place with a satisfied smile. ¡°I think you''ll be very comfortable here, beloved sister.¡± Rina could only nod in approval. Thorns That Grow - Chapter 8 ¡°It is said that the first king of Callir was a chosen of Xito. For a long time, it was unclear whether or not this man had been one of the first six heroes, although it recently was determined that his reign was far too close to our current era for it to be possible. Records do assert that he was the founder of the Blood church, however. None of his descendants inherited the mark, and in fact almost a century passed without Xito choosing a champion. While his bloodline was able to rule over a peaceful city for some time as they concealed this truth, the population eventually realized that the mark of the Blood, ironically, was not something that could be passed through blood. From that moment onward, trouble ensued for the royal family. -historical records of Callir¡± * * * Astrael ¡°Mmh... So that''s the craftsmen''s guild there?¡± He pointed toward a specific building in the eastern part of the city. ¡°Yes,¡± Julia answered with tire, ¡°and around it you''ll find all sorts of workshops and factories.¡± I should like to see that, Astrael thought, nodding in satisfaction. From the windows of the last floor of the temple, he had spent the better part of the afternoon observing the city and asking Julia about various things, ranging from buildings that simply caught his attention, to places he was actually looking for. By now he had composed a solid map of the city in his mind, and even without remembering the exact emplacement of everything, he was confident he could find his way around. Anyway, I don''t see how anyone could fail to get his bearings, with both the keep and the temple sticking out beyond the roofs wherever you are... While he was monopolizing Julia for his scouting operation, Rina was probably being pampered by her new servants in her chambers. He was sure that if he was to barge into the room, he''d find her surrounded by people brushing her hair and donning her clothes. ¡°That should be enough...¡± Hearing that, Julia expressed her relief with a long sigh. ¡°I guess I''ll step out for a bit now.¡± ¡°Eh? What? Now, of all times?¡± It was already late in the afternoon, indeed, but Astrael was not one to care. After spending hours walking around in the temple, listening to Phiramel''s lectures on this and that, he had to get some air. Actual air, stinking air from the city, not the perfumed one he could breath here in the temple''s garden. He also had things to do, and did not feel like delaying his preparations. ¡°I won''t be long,¡± he reassured her. ¡°Don''t wait for me for dinner though,¡± he added and winked. Julia shrugged, not wanting to put up a fight. ¡°I''ll call for a guard, at least.¡± ¡°Oh, am I entitled to that? I thought I would have the privilege of being rigorously unescorted, something to match with the cramped room I''ve been provided with.¡± ¡°Why don''t you become a street comedian and refrain from coming back here at all, while you''re at it? I''m sure you would be successful in no time, what with your witty remarks and all that.¡± ¡°I deserve no such praise,¡± he retorted before bowing. ¡°Send my manservant at the temple''s gates, will you? I''ll pass by Rina''s room first. Oh, and please give me a mean looking guard, if possible.¡± Julia nodded without energy and took the stairs. Of course, Astrael didn''t only probe Julia about the city''s layout during what must have been tedious hours for her ¨C he also innocently inquired about the residents of the floor, the nobility and the council of Callir. She was evasive, but the few words she let out were enough to confirm some of his conjectures. Leon Feanir, for instance, held an important place in the temple and was entitled to a room here, even more so now that his bloodsguard would follow its original purpose, but he apparently lived in his father''s estate, in the inner city. Perhaps it would change now that the chosen one had arrived, though, so Astrael guessed that the man would soon move here. Needless to say, Leon and his lord father both had seats in the ruling council. Since Leon was a close friend of Phiramel ¨C the bloodsguard was to protect the heads of the church, not only the hero, so they had spent quite a lot of time together ¨C it was safe to assume that the high-priest had dealings with the Feanir house. Because of the influence wielded by the title of hero, Rina would be an important asset for them, provided they managed to get her on their side. Of course, Astrael''s goal here was to prevent his sister from becoming a simple pawn. He had to think of a way to deal with whatever enemies he would encounter. He went to Rina''s room but was denied entry by a servant. The young mistress was bathing, she said, so he left a message to tell her he had gone out. Took the stairs and before going to the hall, stopped at his floor to fetch his purse and some writing tools, another gift from Horace ¨C a wax tablet and a stylus. Paper and ink weren''t as costly as back in his days, but he''d rather keep these precious materials for diagrams and such, and he would only be taking notes today. Wax used to be the norm for him, so he didn''t mind the impractical aspects of it. He looked at his clothes and grimaced. He really looked like a peasant, he felt he was sticking out too much inside the temple. Rummaging through the few belongings he had, he found something that was only slightly better than his dirtied clothing. A dull grey tunic and a pair of black pants, that would probably suffice to replace his country-boy appearance by the much more respected city-dwelling commoner look. Or so he hoped. Astrael halted his march once he was in the hall. It was still silent, though now there was a priest praying in front of Xito''s statue, and an acolyte wandering around and lighting candles. He took a deep breath as he observed once more the frescos on the ceiling. He had promised himself he would come sit there and study them more carefully later, but for now he simply gazed at one particular parcel, the one he had spotted earlier. He still harboured doubts, but he had the feeling the man up there was indeed who he thought he was. There was no mistaking the armour painted in vibrant crimson, the long golden hair, and the spear held in these damn gloved hands, though the events depicted were unknown to him. Must have happened after I died... he concluded with a faint smile showing on his face. I see you didn''t get any saner even in old age, always getting involved in overly dangerous battles in the name of Xito, eh? Degoxamaton, dear colleague. He walked toward the entrance gates and among the knights posted there, he singled out the most intimidating fellow, the only one with a badly shaven chin and greasy hair in fact. The man noticed Astrael with his sharp, mean eyes and approached before making a half-assed bow. ¡°I take it you''re young master Astrael,¡± said the guy who sounded more like he was growling instead of speaking. ...What, me too? Not that I mind being called like that. ¡°Bert, at your service.¡± Astrael eyed the man more closely. Mail over his tunic, longsword and knife sheathed at his waist. Bert looked like a merc, sounded like a merc, even smelled like a merc, hell, perhaps he actually used to be one, though there was no doubt he was linked to the church in some way. From what he had gathered, the temple of Callir didn''t employ outsiders. He''ll do perfectly, even though I could have managed with a servant merely looking the part. ¡°Then let us be on our way, good sir Bert. I hope you like window-shopping.¡± The man grunted in a way that made it impossible to guess whether he did like it or not. Not that he had a choice anyway. They stepped outside and crossed the main plaza, toward the eastern part of the city. Facing the temple of Xito on the other side of the plaza, was a sanctuary of Atharemine. This one looked to be well-maintained, as expected of a prosperous city like Callir. Ten minutes hadn''t even gone by that Astrael did not need to bother avoiding people, carriages and horses in the streets anymore. Bert was apparently frightening everyone who was misfortunate enough to meet his gaze, and so their path would clear itself on its own as they walked. Very convenient, even though it wasn''t Astrael''s initial intention. ¡°So tell me, Bert,¡± he said, trying to break the ice since they still had ways to go before their destination, ¡°how long have you been working for the church?¡± ¡°For some time.¡± ¡°For some time,¡± Astrael repeated as if there was anything to appreciate about that short, unfriendly answer. ¡°And how did you come in its service?¡± ¡°Got hired.¡± ¡°You got hired, I see.¡± He jumped over a puddle of muddy water, while Bert stepped in it without a care. Astrael turned his head to face him and took a forced, loud tone. ¡°Not really the talkative type, are we!¡± Bert shrugged and did not appear to be annoyed. He didn''t look like he cared about anything, in fact. Are you dead inside or something? But, miraculously, he spoke. ¡°Sister Julia told me to watch over you, so I''ll do just that.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Ah.¡± Now we''re going somewhere. That meant she probably hand-picked him. Was he ordered to keep tabs on Astrael? He needed to be wary of Julia, too. Eventually they arrived in front of the craftsmen''s guild. But they would not enter that building yet, and instead went around to look for smiths and carpenters. After doing a bit of asking, which proved surprisingly difficult because of Bert scaring away most people, they were directed toward a workshop known for its craftsmen of good repute and skill. Bert casually mentioned how Astrael could have simply asked him, for he knew his way around the neighbourhood and would have also advised to seek this workshop in particular. Astrael didn''t show his anger, but it was clearly there. Soon enough, they found the place and entered. ¡°Sazin bless you,¡± Astrael bellowed as one worker was about to greet him. This earned him knowing glances from the craftsmen and even from Bert. It really seemed like this custom had become an old, half-forgotten habit only perpetuated among specific communities, and going by these guys'' reaction, it was not something an eight year-old boy was expected to know. ¡°May he bless you too,¡± the worker eventually muttered back, nodding. Astrael had to admit he was proud of himself for this unexpected development he had brought about. The best way to make a good first impression with craftsmen was to honour their patron-god, and it looked like it only became truer as time went by. ¡°How can I help you?¡± ¡°Are you knowledgable about crossbows? Better yet, would happen to sell some? I''d like to see one.¡± The craftsman stared at the definitely not high-born boy who had made this surprising request, but the glances he gave Bert told Astrael that his plot was working. No smith would care for a child''s questions about weaponry, and they certainly wouldn''t bother to accommodate his requests. But having a tough looking mercenary around would change anyone''s mind. Perhaps they thought that the boy was rich enough to afford a guard despite his appearance, or that they were somehow related, or that they were thugs of some sort... Whatever conclusion they would come to, Astrael had no intention to clarify the misunderstanding he willingly created. ¡°If you would follow me.¡± The man led them to one of the booths. ¡°This is the model used by the citywatch,¡± he said while pointing to a crossbow which, after a few seconds of observation, was very similar to the one Euronel had drawn in his book. Still unsure of the nature of his customers, the worker attempted to give advice. ¡°Err... One would need strength to reload it, in a way that a child would not manage, but a grown man could.¡± He proceeded to demonstrate by sticking his foot in the stirrup before pulling the string of the crossbow. It did look difficult enough, though Astrael already knew that. Meaning to thank him for his unnecessary yet kind advice, he smiled to the craftsman, but Bert kept displaying an aggressive expression ¨C his normal face ¨C and it only served to make the vendor feel more uneasy than he surely already was. Astrael made use of Bert''s uncanny charms to take notes on his wax tablet undisturbed. The size of the components, the materials, and his own observations about how the parts worked with each other. He already had ideas about what to improve, mainly the reloading process, even if it was still vague. I''ll need to come back later, and study the thing until I''ve figured it out. He asked for the cost of one crossbow, and it was far too much for him, as expected. He then tried to inquire about the production costs, but the worker did his best to avoid revealing any useful information. Astrael did not give up yet, and after thanking the man, he dragged Bert inside a bunch of other workshops, asking different metal workers and carpenters for advice and cost estimates for the crossbows parts. Whenever a craftsman was reluctant to advise Astrael, Bert''s intimidating features demonstrated their usefulness. After a good hour of information gathering, note taking and silent intimidating, Astrael deemed his foundations good-enough for his homemade crossbow. He would only need funds for the time being, so he had to think of a way. ¡°Are we done here, young master?¡± Bert said after glancing at the sky. ¡°Evening''s almost there.¡± He visualized his more or less accurate mental map of the city before answering. ¡°Hm. I have one last place to visit before going back.¡± ¡°Won''t you be late for supper? You''ve got your sister''s official introduction and all that.¡± ¡°Eh, you seem entirely aware of my schedule. Julia put you up to it?¡± The guard gave one of his non-committal shrugs. ¡°Well, it''s fine. This is going to be quick.¡± They walked until they found an apothecary shop, a few streets away from the craftsmen''s guild. It was best if Julia didn''t hear too much about this stop, so he asked Bert to stay outside, saying something about wanting to avoid scaring the vendor, to persuade him not to go in. They could see the apothecary from outside, and since he was an old man who seemed perfectly afraid of the merc standing in front of his door, Astrael''s request was granted. He looked around inside the shop, under the wary eyes of the vendor. Carefully observing the plants and herbs, some he knew from his past life, others he had learned about from Horace, and a few he couldn''t identify from memory. After a moment, he sighed in annoyance. There should have been other poisons than the plant-based ones was already taking measures against, but he wanted to narrow it down to the most dangerous. He went to the counter and faced the apothecary. ¡°Good day !¡± ¡°Evening,¡± the vendor corrected haughtily. ¡°What do you want, kid?¡± ¡°My father sent me. He''s a hunter and wishes to know if you have any really strong poison that would do for, err, bear hunting, I think it was?¡± The old man squinted his eyes and grunted. ¡°There are no bears around Callir.¡± ¡°...Boar, then,¡± Astrael said and tried to look like a forgetful child who had an habit of mistaking the names of animals. The apothecary shook his head. ¡°Eh, that so? But your father should come to me directly.¡± He stared at Bert who was still waiting outside, and must have been pondering whether or not the man was Astrael''s father. ¡°I can''t let a clumsy kid like you near anything dangerous.¡± ¡°Oh, don''t worry. He didn''t give me any money, he only wanted to know if you had any suggestions.¡± ¡°...I''d recommend the ones made from snake venoms. A bit hard to get your hands on around here, and pricey, but it gets the job done.¡± He paused and cleared his throat before speaking loudly enough for Bert to hear. ¡°Got lots of the stuff back there, I can make him a price.¡± Astrael gave him a large smile. ¡°I''ll be sure to tell him, thank you.¡± He left the shop and went back to the temple with Bert. Had the merc been wanting to know what business Astrael had here, he would have told some tale about sending rare ingredients for his teacher Horace in his village ¨C but Bert didn''t inquire about anything. It appeared that venoms were another popular ingredient for poisons here. Only lords and wealthy patrons would bother to pay for these venom-based poisons, but it was necessary nonetheless. I could capture snakes myself, but it would take too long... No, I''m not sure I could manage it alone with this body. I don''t even know how to make such toxins. That meant he had to add another purchase on his shopping list. Or he could ask Horace for help... If push comes to shove, I can sell my books, but I really want to avoid that. In any case, it wasn''t as if he needed a large quantity of venom right now. Just a little would do until he had more money, and what mattered the most was that the plants were, as he had been told by Horace, fairly affordable, if not outright cheap. That meant he probably wouldn''t need to go outside the city in order to get his poisons. That was enough thinking of deadly meals and nefarious cooking for the day. He''d have a nice, non-poisonous supper tonight, at least if he wasn''t late. But the sky was already darkening, and the temple wasn''t exactly nearby. They weren''t even using the same path as they did earlier, because they had gone to the apothecary, a bit further south. Now that it was evening, these streets were starting to get crowded with a different kind of citizens. It wasn''t the same neighbourhood, after all. They passed in front of an herbalist''s shop whose clientele was a bunch of rag-wearing foreigners with exotic features and skin. A man laying down on the steps of a stairway was smoking opium, gazing at the people walking around, with empty eyes and his mouth agape. The muffled music of a harp could be heard through the chatting noises, and the melody got clearer and clearer as Astrael entered what he immediately knew to be the red-light district. The girls, watching the street from their balconies and showing a fair amount of flesh through their almost transparent clothings, were observing him with curious eyes. One of them was wicked enough to call out to Astrael, and some bulky brute blocking the doorway immediately glared at him, perhaps trying to remind this potential customer that he would need to pay up front, as if his age wasn''t enough of an issue. I suppose standards and common sense get slightly altered in such places. The things they would do for a few silver coins... ¡°Now, Bert, I know the girls have a thing for aloof, mysterious guys like you,¡± Astrael said while turning to him, ¡°but remember you have a jo-...¡± He paused and frowned, as the merc was nowhere to be seen. The crowd had separated them, most likely. Or maybe he really went in one of the brothels? Great... A quick glance around told him he would have a hard time finding the man who was meant to be his bodyguard, and that he would perhaps do better to return to the temple by himself instead. Calling out the merc''s name would only serve to attract attention, which was exactly the thing that an already conspicuous eight year-old wanted to avoid in such a place. The street they had first used when they exited the temple shouldn''t have been too far, he could easily find his way and get back via a less debauched path. He observed the dark sky, spotted the even darker silhouettes of the temple and the keep, and walked through some side alley that he guessed would more or less lead him toward his destination. Still, the situation made him chuckle. What sort of face was Bert the impassible mercenary making right now? Sister Julia would chew him out if she learned that he had lost the boy he was supposed to watch, in the red-light district of all places... The bodyguard was probably panicked, even though it would surely never show on his face. Well, if he managed to get some interesting reaction out of him, that could be considered a worthy achievement. A clattering noise made him glance at his feet. He had inadvertently kicked some iron jug and spilled whatever liquid was previously in it. Wine, judging by the colour. ¡°Hey!¡± a voice echoed in the alley, followed by unintelligible muttering. Astrael''s eyes followed the trickle of alcohol running between the paved stones, until they reached a wall to his left. Three drunkards were sitting against it and got to their feet before approaching him and showing off their nasty grins. ¡°Yerr'' gunna pay for that, brat?¡± said one of these elegant prowlers, a small guy with a scruffy beard and a remarkable body odour. The stinking man crouched to Astrael''s level and made him flinch when he opened his mouth once again, his vile breath escaping its jail of rotten teeth. ¡°What''s it gunna be? Huh?¡± The largest of the three patted the small one with his elbow and pointed to Astrael''s waist, where a small bump could be seen under his tunic. ¡°I see he gots silver ''ight here, I thinks.¡± The third one simply grunted, his nose and cheeks redder than a rose and his balance almost as nonexistent as his soberness. Astrael surveyed the alley in the corner of his eyes, glancing at wooden planks, jars, large stones, but ultimately decided that running away would be less of a hassle. Can I outrun them? Drunk as they are, it shouldn''t be too hard. But as he was about to put into action the escape he had been contemplating, a foot appeared between the legs of the large guy, and was brutally slammed against his crotch. I recognize that foot, Astrael thought as the man whimpered and crumbled on the ground, revealing the owner of said foot behind him. ¡°Ah, Bert¡± he greeted while hastily backing away. ¡°I was starting to wonder where you had gone.¡± ¡°Friends of yours, young master?¡± the merc asked as he punched the smaller guy in the guts, so hard that he was then out of breath, and sent him flying on his colleague''s convulsing body. I think you really hurt that one... He shook his head as if he really felt the need to answer Bert''s question, and caught a glimpse of something shiny in the hand of the staggering last guy, the drunkest of all three. Astrael didn''t think twice and grabbed a paving stone not far from him, as the man tightened his grip on his knife and neared Bert. Astrael smashed the stone on the drunkard''s knee to make him fall, then cracked his skull once it was in his reach, before the victim could even let out a cry of pain. The attacker collapsed on the ground, red ooze running from its temple and slowly mixing with the wine Astrael had spilled earlier. His eyes half-closed, the drunkard moaned, confirming that he was still alive. It would be a shame to commit murder on my first day here... He looked up and met Bert''s impassible eyes. Especially with a witness. What will it be now? The merc had his fingers loosely wrapped around the guard of his dagger, and kept the pose for a few seconds. Had he first done so because of the knife-wielding drunkard, or because of Astrael''s improvisation? There was no doubt the latter had something to do with it, but the boy kept silent, until Bert eventually blinked and turned around. He walked toward the alley''s exit, not even glancing behind him to check if Astrael was following him. ¡°We should get back, young master,¡± he simply said. ¡°You''re already late for supper, but it''s not a reason to linger around here.¡± Thorns That Grow - Chapter 9 ¡°The last king of Callir was known for his deviancy. The private journals of his most trusted advisor, a student of Euronel, make mention of kidnappings occurring on a regular basis. The king would steal infant children, sometimes free citizens, sometimes slaves, and lock them in pots of various shapes, or make them wear elongated bracelets and collars, every day and night for years. The children would grow up and a decade later they would find themselves plagued with odd, inhuman morphologies and absurd mutilated bodies, all for the amusement and entertainment of a insane monarch. -historical records of Callir¡± * * * Astrael ¡°Hmm...¡± Astrael crossed his arms on the window ledge and rested his chin on top of it. ¡°So Leon has a younger brother, eh?¡± He slightly turned his head to glance at Rina, nodding and sitting on her bed. ¡°He''s older than us, apparently. But you should call him sir Leon, you know?¡± She pouted, not bothering to hide from her brother the fact that she disliked it when people spoke improperly of her beloved knight. He simply smiled and faced back the city down there. ¡°Forgive me, young mistress. Sir Leon has a brother, then. Oh, let me correct myself once more ¨C an equally knightly brother.¡± He heard the large oak bed creak as his sister let herself fall on it, before sighing loudly. The sounds of the city barely reached him here. The neighing of the horses and the yelling of the people became lost and turned into a low buzzing noise, with only he occasional flapping of a bird''s wings breaking this fake silence. He tried to look for the red-light district, wondering if from up here he could see the street where he and Bert had encountered merry drunkards a week ago. I guess it was too small of an alley to be visible between the roofs of the city, he concluded after half a minute of lazy searching. ¡°I''m not sure he is knightly or anything like that, though...¡± Rina said at last, continuing a conversation that Astrael believed to be over. He faced her yet again, this time turning his body and resting his back onto the ledge. ¡°Mh? How so?¡± ¡°Sir Leon said he was sick, or something of the sort,¡± she replied before pausing and fixing her alarmed eyes on her brother. ¡°Ah, don''t repeat what I''m telling you, okay?¡± Astrael straightened up and listened more carefully. ¡°Of course. What''s his name?¡± ¡°Timenon, I believe. He wanted to become a bloodsguard too, but apparently he will never be able to, because of his illness.¡± Astrael was about to inquire about the nature of said illness, but Rina saw through his intentions and stopped him. ¡°I didn''t ask. I don''t think sir Leon would have liked to talk about it.¡± ¡°I suppose you''re right,¡± he said in an apologetic tone, while his mind was already away. How did she come across that information? Did she seduce Leon into confessing his family issues or something? Truly, this sister of his was terrifying. On a more serious note, Leon probably revealed that story in order to gain her trust and sympathy, but regardless of the reason, perhaps that was here the lead Astrael needed. It was worth the bet, at least. ¡°Say, Rina.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Do you trust me?¡± She raised her brows and answered with a confused expression, and he chuckled silently. Of course you do. ¡°Remember the gift I told you about?¡± ¡°Oh, the crossbow thing? You''ve started building it?¡± ¡°Soon, soon. I''ll need funds before that, as you know.¡± Rina nodded. ¡°True.¡± ¡°Would you do me a favour then? Next time you see Leon... sir Leon, could you casually mention my project?¡± She looked him straight in the eyes, perhaps trying to figure out his intentions. Not that she would ever believe he harboured nefarious ambitions or things of the sort, no, and if she did, it most likely had to do with Leon. Was he trying to trick Leon, was what she was hoping to find out. ¡°...Sure,¡± she finally declared. ¡°In case you were wondering, it will benefit to us all ¨C you, Leon, me, and if I''m right, Timenon the most.¡± ¡°Do you think-¡± Rina was interrupted by a knock on her door. ¡°What is it?¡± she yelled to the person on the other side. ¡°Young mistress,¡± said the muffled voice which Astrael recognized to be a servant''s, ¡°it is time for your calculus lessons.¡± Rina groaned and jumped off the bed, before casting her sad gaze on her brother, wordlessly imploring him to do something about it. Oh, he could, he surely could. He could lie to the servant and said that Rina wasn''t feeling well. He could seal the door by moving chairs and shelves in front of it, or he could help her escape through the window with a rope carefully made from bedsheets. He truly had many possibilities. So he denied her request with a mocking smile. Sorry, dear sister, calculus is important! They left the room together, one grumpy and the other feigning compassion, but went their separate ways after a few steps. Some of Rina''s lessons would happen in her room whenever it only required books, but the calculus teacher insisted that she came to the fourth floor, where he had a laboratory of some sort. I suppose I''ll work on my own project too, Astrael thought, already seeing the formulas and numbers appearing in his mind. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He wandered on the last floor until he reached the fountain. Around it, the paths were made of thin sand, the ideal support for his drafts and calculations. He looked at the notes he had taken on the wax tablet, opened Euronel''s book on weaponry at the page that displayed the diagram of a crossbow, then began to work. He must have spent an hour or so, drawing in the sand with a stick, making cross sections of the weapon, calculating the length of the parts, thinking about which materials to use depending on the quality and the price. It had to be better than the regular product, in the end, or else there would be no point in making all that fuss. No doubt he would have less trouble if he had a real crossbow laying around for studying, but that could probably wait until he managed to bait his target into becoming his patron. Another possibility he had considered but discarded quickly was to visit a workshop with the plans and diagrams of his future upgraded crossbow. But even if he succeeded in catching the craftsmen''s interest, they would probably end up stealing his idea and all his efforts would have been for naught. Not many people would find it dangerous to cross a child, especially when he was na?ve enough to show his ingenuous ideas to the first untrustworthy knave he saw. And regardless of the craftsmen''s work ethics or whatever fame his idea might bring him among Sazin''s circles, it wouldn''t be nearly as efficient when it came to his other goal ¨C to get in a position where he could meddle in the temple''s or the nobility''s affairs. ¡°Hmm... Would heavier bolts be better?¡± he muttered. ¡°I wonder.¡± ¡°My, we have an artist here, it seems.¡± Astrael turned his head to glance at whoever was the imbecile commenting on his diagrams, and was almost surprised for a second. It was Therenus, the local lurker, as Astrael liked to call him. That old man, in his capacity of elder, and with all the weak bones and joint pain that came with it, could only spent his days wandering around the roof of the temple. His old age preventing him from taking the stairs without being carried, he found it more convenient to have everyone come to him instead of the opposite. As such, Astrael would often see Therenus strolling in the garden while he talked with underlings or visitors, or, whenever he was alone, lurking. To be fair, the elder would only be taking a stroll by himself, but it really looked like he was lurking, hence the nickname. ¡°Elder,¡± Astrael greeted while lowering his head, though he was more intrigued by the man standing next to Therenus. Tall, bearded, he was probably in his forties yet retained most of his youthful handsomeness. Lustrous brown hair drawn back, and a rich, elegant attire. He was a noble, no doubt, but Astrael did not know his name. Fortunately, the elder somehow felt it would be proper to introduce everyone. ¡°Ah, lord Danalion, this would be... err, Astrael, if I recall? The chosen''s brother.¡± Hearing that, the lord put his hand to his chin and rubbed his beard, seemingly processing the information. In the end, he came to the same conclusion as everyone else, that the young mistress'' brother was someone whose favour should be courted. ¡°I see, I see. Nice to meet you, Astrael. I hope your sister is well.¡± He then observed intently the drawings in the sand, trying to find something he could feign interest about. ¡°Oh, could these be diagrams for a crossbow?¡± Astrael was impressed, he did not expect a noble to notice the nature of his work, especially since none of these barely readable drafts showed a normal view of the entire weapon. ¡°Indeed,¡± he said, ¡°I would like to become a weaponsmith when I''m older!¡± Another lie, but this one was probably one of the the most credible he ever came up with. He had indeed an interest in making weapons, and though it was very common for children his age to dream of being soldiers and knights, many others aimed to start a trade or to set up a workshop. Especially when their fathers were merchants, smiths or carpenters themselves. ¡°Is that so?¡± Lord Danalion chuckled. ¡°Well, good luck, I''m sure you''ll become a famous craftsman.¡± Yeah, yeah, just make sure you don''t step on my sand, he replied in his mind as he watched the two men walking around the fountain, barely avoiding his diagrams. Danalion, huh... He sat on the fountain ledge and pricked up his ears while the pair resumed their conversation. ¡°...half a dozen ships coming back from Ocia. If we distribute some of the goods to the people, we may compete with him for the people''s favour.¡± ¡°Bah,¡± scoffed the elder, ¡°the plebs will always ask for more. Let us not ruin ourselves in trying to oppose Phiramel.¡± ¡°We can settle with a scarce charity then. Put the blame on him when they ask why we stopped giving food and clothing for the winter.¡± ¡°True enough. We only need rumours to spread in order to...¡± The voices faded in the distance and they now sounded like intelligible murmurs. Astrael knitted his brows. Looks like Phiramel has competition. Are they scared of the influence he will gain by having Rina at his side? Though she hasn''t even been introduced to the people yet. He was certain that the Danalion house was one of the most influential in Callir. And the elder looked rather friendly with the lord, they were allies without a doubt ¨C worse, it was obviously not a secret since they were ostensibly walking together in the garden. Meaning their ties were strong enough not to be bothered by public opinion or prying eyes of other factions. I wonder where Viriane stands in all that. He glanced up at the sky, closing his eyelids as the sunlight blinded him. The sibyl can surely boast influence, what with her divination skills and all that. He was starting to have an overall view of the political chessboard that was Callir, albeit a still incomplete one. It wasn''t as simple as he hoped, but he could still work with that, as long as he was careful. He wanted to avoid directly distributing blows anyway, so for now he would only sneak his way into Phiramel''s faction and watch from afar, while advising Rina whenever it was necessary. He gazed back at his drafts in the sand, and focused on the issue he had been dealing with before being interrupted. Even if I find a way to make the spanning easier, it''ll still be too heavy for Rina. Should I try to reduce the overall weight? If it was only Rina, then... She''d grow up eventually, and with her training as a hero she would develop fine muscles. It wasn''t a bad idea to make it a bit heavier than planned. But then there was Timenon. Had he been any other blue-blooded''s son, which was what Astrael had originally aimed for, it would have worked out just fine. He would have gifted this crossbow to the child of a lord and gained his favour with that simple toy. Timenon, though? The boy was already grown up, and he seemed to have a weak constitution of some sort. He had no idea what was this illness Rina spoke of, but it would be safe to assume that it was a fairly crippling one, if it was something that stopped him from being a bloodsguard. Not that bloodsguards weren''t skilled, but seeing how many of them were second or third sons of the nobility without any exceptional military background, it was more of a prestigious title rather than a proof of talent... Best make a crossbow that even an infant could hold and fire then... And if I''m wrong about Timenon and Leon... Well, no matter, I''ll find another house to please. Did lord Danalion have a young son, by any chance? Thinking about the crossbow once again, he could just make it smaller, but the power would be altered. What if he worked on the bolts, then? There were ways to make them faster, more powerful and more accurate. ¡°It''ll be a real pain if we have to craft special bolts, however...¡± Maybe I should just look for deadlier bolts altogether, something dangerous enough even with a diminished power. ¡°War bolts?¡± He scratched his hair. ¡°I''ll need to go back to the workshops and ask about the price...¡± But if the projectiles are too heavy, there''s no point in having a lighter weapon, I guess. Maybe I should prepare different kinds of bolt for different situations... Another hour of planning and drawing, and the sun was now shining brightly in the sky. Is it noon already? He wasn''t particularly hungry, but Rina probably wanted to eat with him. She was too shy to send her maidservants on errands for now, so he still had to guess everything if she didn''t come and ask directly. He was about to leave the garden and look for Rina on the fourth floor when he spotted Julia in her red robes walking through the galleries. For some reason, he was reminded of the first day of travel when they left their village. The campfire. It was just another hunch, but one worth a try... He would already be sowing one seed with the help of Rina, he had nothing to lose by seeing if a second one could be planted. Even if he was mistaken about her, there was no doubt she was in Phiramel''s faction, and would probably work for her senior''s goals and rely on his guidance whenever she could. If, for instance, the hero''s brother were to come to her, asking for money because he wanted to build something for his sister... Julia would surely share this knowledge with her mentor, and they would see this as an opportunity to drag Rina deeper in their side by lending a friendly hand to her brother. We''ll see how it plays out, he concluded as he changed his route and walked toward Julia instead of the stairs. It was always better to have two baits instead of one. Thorns That Grow - Chapter 10 ¡°It is said that if a Callirian spits on you, it will bring you good fortune. I would rather stay unlucky, if that''s the case. -traveller¡± * * * Astrael A few days after he spoke to Rina and Julia, his target came to see him personally. Astrael, of course, feigned ignorance and denseness as Leon Feanir inquired about his project, and kept doing so even when the knight''s enthusiasm betrayed his secret agenda. ¡°Are you sure it''s fine?¡± Astrael asked in a hesitant tone. Leon chuckled and flashed one of his charming smiles. ¡°I told you not to worry about that. You can change clothes once we arrive, if you''re still bothered, but there''s no need really.¡± He sighed, then acted as if he was giving up. In truth, he was too busy revelling in the success of his gamble to care about etiquette. But a normal child would not be that nonchalant, and so he had to appear somewhat uneasy. ¡°Still,¡± Leon said with an amused grin, ¡°You''re going to have dinner with one of the most powerful families in Callir, and all you care about is how you''re dressed?¡± Astrael shrugged as he stepped inside the coach. ¡°My appearance could be seen as a lack of respect.¡± ¡°Ha! You are indeed a strange child. That''s something for adults to worry about,¡± he declared before nodding to the coachman. The sound of the whip reached his ears, and then they were moving. They rode toward the inner-city, while Astrael gazed at the streets with unfocused eyes. The main road that began at the southern gates kept going after the main plaza until it reached the keep on the hill. They climbed the slope and were stopped by guards when they were about to enter the inner-city. Astrael caught a glimpse of the wall circling it, and the small towers on each side of the entrance. The coachman spoke a couple of words to the soldiers, and one of them glanced through the window. Leon saluted him with a nod, and the guard apologized in a clumsy bow. ¡°The citywatch?¡± Astrael inquired once they got moving again. The knight shook his head. ¡°Oh, no, they''re probably Danalion''s men. They''re everywhere, haven''t you noticed?¡± Not really... He should have gone outside more, these last few days, to get a better feel of the city instead of bumming around in the temple. Are they allowed to set up checkpoints like that? Bah, not that I care, he thought. However, it hinted at how much power the Danalion house wielded, so he did actually care. Perhaps his thoughts were somehow betrayed by his expression, or else Leon deemed it necessary to explain further. ¡°He is just showing off, this is how he tricks the pleb into respecting him. Lord Elric Danalion wields the carrot and the stick ¨C here you witnessed the latter.¡± And so the carrot would be... handing out food and supplies to the people. That''s what he and Therenus were talking about the other day. Astrael rested his chin against his fist, elbow on the armrest. His precious carrots come from Ocia, if I recall. Well, a part of it, at least. Ocia was among the most prosperous Vieran cities, but it wasn''t the closest to Callir, so it was safe to assume that lord Danalion had dealings with the other city-states too. Actually, it was safer to surmise that he had many other means of seducing the people. ¡°Isn''t he feared by the citizens, then?¡± he pretended to inquire, as to confirm his suspicions. ¡°They must know how dangerous it is, to have patrols and guards making the law in the city-state.¡± Leon observed him in the corner of his eye for a second, then lightly shook his head. ¡°He has ways to please them too,¡± he replied vaguely, but for now that was enough for Astrael. ¡°The situation is such that he is both feared and loved. They esteem him for his charity, but know he has authority. Similarly, they fear what he could do with his men, but are appeased knowing that he would rather help them instead.¡± ¡°I see.¡± A benefactor respected, loved, and feared, for both his display of kindness and military might. The knight gave him another glance, brow raised. ¡°Do you, really?¡± Hey, you saw my plans for the crossbow. He frowned, answering Leon with silence only. Are you not convinced yet that I''m a bright child, entirely worthy of your attention and favour? Astrael and Leon eventually arrived at the Feanir estate. The residence was a two floored manor, built in the same architectural fashion as the rest of Callir''s buildings, only with more taste and the mandatory display of wealth. Smooth sand-coloured stones, brownish-red tiles, exquisite sculptures and glass windows. They got off the coach and went through the gates leading to a large courtyard. From here, one could access the stables, the armoury, and the manor itself. Thin columns supporting galleries around the entrance, then arched doors leading to balconies at the upper floors. Servants came to welcome Leon Feanir, and he told them to make arrangements for supper, and to inform the rest of the household of a guest''s presence. Leon then turned to Astrael and motioned for the armoury. ¡°I don''t suppose you''re in the mood for waiting,¡± he said with a confident smile, ¡°so why don''t we get to business?¡± He complied and they entered the room. A slave neared Leon to help him unstrap his armour, and in the meantime Astrael was left to observe the contents of the armoury. In the badly lit room, it was mostly the light coming from the door that was reflected against the steel of the blades and armour pieces displayed on the various racks. Longswords, rapiers, suits of plate on dummies, all sorts of finely crafted gear was just laying around here, and most would probably never be used by anyone save for the occasional painting commission or ceremonial event. As he admired the beautiful weaponry, Astrael could feel Leon''s watchful eyes studying his reactions. The jingling sounds of the knight''s armour being undone by the slave were the only noise hindering the silence and preventing it from reigning in the room. ¡°What do you think?¡± Leon eventually asked. Astrael glanced back to see the young man stretching and massaging his shoulders in his arming doublet, while the slave went to put the armour away. He came back with a bowl containing perfumed water of some sort, which Leon used to wash his hands and his neck. What do I think, huh? He sighed. What was an eight year-old supposed to think? He could act all merry and excited, but he had a feeling it would seem suspicious and out of character. ¡°It''s an impressive collection,¡± he said. ¡°A shame to let it rust here when it could be shining on the battlefield.¡± Leon raised a brow. ¡°And what battlefield are we talking about ? I, for one, am rather glad there''s no one to swing these swords at, right now.¡± Astrael nodded. True enough. Callir doesn''t seem to be in conflict with anyone at the moment, but how long will that last? Peaceful times were bound to crumble whenever heroes made their appearance... And he was certain that once trouble occurred, these fine weapons would stay here, with their owner. ¡°Oh, right.¡± Leon went to search through a rack as if he had suddenly remembered something. He then turned around and approached Astrael, holding a crossbow in his hands. ¡°There you go. We have others, but this is the most basic one.¡± He placed it on a small wooden table, probably expecting this seemingly prodigal child in front of him to inspect the weapon. Leon had the smuggest of expressions, as if he had guessed that having a real crossbow around would greatly help the development of this new project.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Can I?¡± Astrael asked, and Leon nodded. He took the crossbow in his own small hands and studied it more carefully, since back in the workshop he had not been allowed to touch. It''s indeed heavy, he observed, frowning. I should aim for lighter materials and a smaller size, as expected. ¡°This strange crossbow of yours...¡± Leon said out of the blue. ¡°You are confident it would be usable by a child, or a woman?¡± Astrael needed not wonder why he asked that. ¡°It should be, it''s a gift for Rina, after all.¡± ¡°As you said,¡± he nodded. ¡°Then I''ll help you. Money, craftsmen, tools, whatever you need, I''ll get it for you.¡± Leon''s ulterior motive ¨C other than gaining Rina''s favour ¨C was plain as day, but Astrael kept his satisfaction for himself, and instead tried to confirm something else. ¡°How did you know I wanted to build that, by the way?¡± Leon had come to him without bothering to disclose his source, after all. ¡°Oh...¡± He paused, perhaps realizing that suddenly showing up and talking about Astrael''s project like he did was somewhat rude. Not that the chessmaster himself cared for politeness. ¡°The young mistress told me about it. Apologies for intruding in your affairs like that.¡± So it was Rina. Then, was I wrong about sister Julia? He looked down to the crossbow to hide his slight frown. Either that, or he''s lying. No, it could be that the priestess is simply wise enough not to fall in such an easy trap... He would have to be more careful around her, then. They spent the afternoon talking about the project, looking at other weapons displayed in the armoury, and wandering around the estate, and soon the evening came. The vast number of stuffed animals and trophies all around the manor was enough to let Astrael know that his hunch was right. The Feanir family had a taste for hunting, and all these stags, boars and smaller games had paid the price. Astrael was shown the library and its expensive compilation of works, as well as a collection of oil paintings, mostly portraits of the Feanir family and their ancestors, he guessed. They stopped in front of a portrait depicting a middle-aged man who was the spitting image of Leon, but a couple of decades older and without the charming smile. ¡°My lord father, Laurentias¡± came Leon''s unnecessary explanation. To their right were displayed a bunch of other portraits, amongst which was painted a child who could have been a younger Leon. But they walked to the left, and the knight began to speak about his ancestors and the history of the Feanir house. ¡°Great-grandfather here, in his time, was betrothed to the second princess of Callir.¡± he said while pointing to the picture of a handsome young man whom Astrael could very well imagine as someone a princess would fall for. ¡°His sons, and the sons of his sons, were meant to become royalty.¡± Were? For a second, Astrael hesitated to ask. ¡°Don''t you and your father have royal blood, then?¡± The knight gave a melancholic smile. ¡°The wedding... never took place. Anyway, father would have been executed when the monarchy fell, had he been a descendant from that princess.¡± From the way Leon spoke, it did not sound like he saw this wedding as a catastrophe that had been avoided. Would he have liked to be a prince? Phiramel had advised Astrael not to joke or allude to the monarchy if possible, and so this was probably a question that should not be asked. They walked some more and eventually they entered another room where the portraits made way for landscapes and historical paintings. Representations of the city of Callir, of battles taking place in forests and plains, of ships sailing on the Middle Sea, of the great wonders of nature. There was one large painting of Viera''s Womb, the colossal mountain south of the city-states, with its oddly shaped peak, and an imaginary depiction of the lost temple of Viera at its foot, on the shore, said to have crumbled under water eons ago. Leon probably hoped to amaze the child, so Astrael did the correct thing and feigned amazement. Wouldn''t do to say that he had already seen more gorgeous paintings than these ones, but he reckoned the Callirian painters had skills worth boasting about. They also painted the temple''s frescos, and that wasn''t a small thing. Eventually, a servant informed them that supper would soon be ready, and so they made their way to the dining hall. ¡°Mother is unwell, so she''ll probably not be there,¡± Leon said, his hand on the door handle. ¡°There''s someone else I want you to meet, though.¡± Astrael already knew who he was talking about. The knight opened the door and they stepped in the hall. The room was lit with candlesticks even though the sun wasn''t set yet, and only two people were seating at the table. At its end, a man whose face felt familiar. He wasn''t as good looking as he was in his portrait, but there was no doubt the man was Laurentias Feanir, and as if to confirm it, Leon introduced the man as such. The other one was a young man, or rather a boy a few years older than Astrael ¨C he immediately understood that the lad was Timenon, Leon''s younger brother. Had Astrael not been aware of his illness, he would have found it surprising to say the least, seeing how the brothers did not resemble each other at all. Compared to Leon''s charisma and radiance, Timenon had sickly features and there was a certain frailness to him. ¡°Forgive my attire, my lord,¡± Astrael said after Leon explained to his father that their guest was Rina''s brother. ¡°It''s fine,¡± the man reassured him despite using a tone that could chill one''s bones. ¡°I hope you and your holy sister are enjoying the city of Callir?¡± Holy... sister? He repeated in his mind. Ah, right. She will be addressed as her holiness once she goes through the consecration. ¡°Yes, it is a most exciting place,¡± he simply replied, not wanting to sound ineptly snobbish as they couldn''t know he had visited far more imposing cities in the past. Everyone exchanged a few more courtesies and greetings, while the food was served ¨C vegetables and deer. ¡°How do you like the food?¡± the lord asked once Astrael had taken a few bites. The meat was spicy, while onions, garlic, and various colourful vegetables were assembled in a fancy fashion, as expected from the nobility. ¡°Delightful. But I cannot begin to fathom what spices were used.¡± Leon mentioned these were Vieran spices, which used to be a rare commodity in Callir. A slave brought some of that perfumed water Astrael saw earlier, but only Leon dipped his hands in it. It didn''t look like it was a custom, perhaps a quirk then? ¡°We have to thank the Danalion house for their prosperous trade with the city-states,¡± Timenon explained. Leon scoffed and rubbed his perfumed fingers under his nose. ¡°Elric Danalion and his foreign friends... He''ll soon make a Vieran out of every single one of us, if this goes on.¡± The man seemed bothered by the strong scent of the food, after all. Astrael had to admit that such a mannerism would match the knight''s image. It smelled faintly of rose and lovage, but it wasn''t nearly enough to overcome the odour of garlic and spices. ¡°What are you bitter for?¡± the brother retorted. ¡°Callir may have lots of crops, enough to live in isolation, but it''s not a reason to spit on prosperity. Ask the people what they think about it.¡± ¡°Oh, I know what they think, brother. Do you know what they think? That lord Danalion and his allies are the greatest saviours and benefactors of Callir ¨C as if Therenus wasn''t popular enough ever since he led the rebellion forty years ago. That''s why I don''t get what you''re so happy about. They are buying their popularity with exotic spices, clothes and whatever gifts they can get their hands on. Don''t you realize that? That''s the sort of things you''ll have to watch out for when you inherit the house.¡± While the debate kept on for a short moment, Astrael had stopped his thoughts on something. As a bloodsguard, Leon could neither succeed his father nor marry. Timenon, who still looks fairly influenceable to me, is the next head of the Feanir house... Might as well see him as Phiramel''s puppet, or his brother''s, unless I manage to befriend him. Their father eventually commanded silence, perhaps finding it stupid to talk of politics in front of an untrustworthy outsider, or else thinking it would be rude to let Astrael out of the conversation. The concerned party would have preferred to do without the lord''s intervention, for now all eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to say something, preferably intelligent. Having absolutely no knowledge of Vieran spices and wanting to keep secret his interest for politics, his eyes wandered in the room, searching for an idea, until they fell on the meat in his plate. Right, deer. Let''s get things moving a bit. ¡°Do you hunt, lord Feanir?¡± Astrael dared to ask. ¡°I do,¡± the lord spoke in his cold voice, unimpressed by the boy''s choice of subject. ¡°This stag was caught last week, as a matter of fact.¡± ¡°Nowadays, father doesn''t hunt as much as he lets his lackeys do the hunting,¡± Leon mocked, and surprisingly, his father let out a small chuckle. ¡°I''ve lost my touch, what can I say.¡± He waved his hand and a servant brought him more wine. ¡°But trust me, you don''t want me to tell you about all the games I caught back in my youth.¡± ¡°I''d be all ears,¡± Astrael said with a smirk. He wasn''t above flattery when he needed to gain someone''s favour. Leon glanced at his brother and showed an embarrassed smile. ¡°Err, I don''t know if that''s-¡± ¡°I don''t mind,¡± Timenon interrupted as he shook his head. ¡°If our guest wishes to hear father''s stories, let him hear it.¡± ¡°...Is there a problem?¡± Astrael asked, though perfectly aware of the delicate matter they were all hesitating to talk about. Timenon couldn''t hunt. With these thin arms of his, and his weak constitution, there was no way he could span a crossbow all by himself, or even be able to draw a bow for too long, never mind thrusting a spear through a boar''s heart... Yes, Timenon could come along, surely, but he would only be able to watch. He wasn''t even sure the boy could ride properly. Then how would Timenon feel, he who couldn''t take part in the hunt, yet lived in a family who loved it, and belonged to a class who took pride in it? Needless to say, when the son who was supposed to inherit the house was a cripple, efforts would be put into keeping this fact a secret. Astrael wasn''t expecting an explanation about this awkward situation, nor would he ask for one, especially not when he already knew everything he needed to know. He gave a long stare at Leon, trying to push him into acting. Astrael couldn''t very well address Timenon''s illness and his own crossbow project when he wasn''t supposed to understand what it was all about. Only Leon could ¨C and here was the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Come on then. We both know you don''t want to speak about your brother''s handicap. Not yet, anyway. Eventually, Leon must have decided now was as good a time as any to tackle the issue. Perhaps he would have preferred to have confirmation that Astrael''s diagrams would work out, perhaps he would have liked to reveal the surprise in other circumstances. But the bitter expression on his brother''s face must have convinced him. ¡°Timenon,¡± he said, putting down the cutlery on the table. ¡°I may have a gift for you. Astrael here has imagined a very interesting device. How would you like to go hunting with the family?¡± Thorns That Grow - Chapter 11 ¡°There was a prince in Callir, long ago, who had a grudge against a priest of Xito. The prince sought to poison the priest, but an opportunity was yet to be found. The priest took each of his meals and drinks with the other churchmen, and they all ate the same food. In the end, the prince resolved to poison everyone in the dining hall, killing most of the priests and at the same time hiding the real target among the victims. -Milemnon, Historical Trivia¡± * * * Julia As she got off the carriage and set foot before the gates of the Feanir estate, the sounds of crossbow bolts being shot echoed in the neighbourhood. She then glanced behind her, watching her coachman as he handed out the reins of the horse to a servant. ¡°I won''t be long.¡± She entered the residence and found the cause of the sounds in the courtyard. A blurry bolt flashed before her eyes, sticking itself with force in an already obliterated wooden log. ¡°My, if it isn''t sister Julia!¡± said an all too familiar high-pitched voice. She turned her head to glare at Astrael, holding a crossbow in one hand and waving at her with the other. ¡°What could possibly bring you here, I wonder.¡± What are you acting all high and mighty for ? she meant to ask, but knew better than to argue about anything with the brat. You sound like you own the place. ¡°The young mistress was wondering what you were up to,¡± she said as she observed him walking through the courtyard and crouching next to the wooden log. ¡°After all, you''ve been here for... what, two weeks or something?¡± The Feanir family must have taken quite the liking to you. He thought for a bit and scribbled something on his wax tablet.¡°Possibly. Don''t tell me you came here to check up on me?¡± ¡°No,¡± she shook her head. Well, partly. ¡°I wanted to know if sir Leon was here, there are matters to be taken care of.¡± Astrael drew something on the sandy ground of the courtyard with a stick and motioned for Julia to approach. ¡°Couldn''t you send a servant? Ah, careful no to step on these marks.¡± She was about to open her mouth when he handed her the crossbow. ¡°Here, try to reload that.¡± ¡°Me?¡± she questioned, unsure. The kid nodded, so she grabbed the weapon. I think it goes like this? She put her foot in the stirrup and tried to span the string, knowing fully it would probably be too hard, before realizing that something was strange. A curious contraption was fixed to the crossbow. It looked like a lever that pointed downward. ¡°It''s called a goat''s foot lever,¡± Astrael said as he clearly noticed Julia''s confusion. ¡°Is that the mechanism you told me about?¡± ¡°No, I am not its inventor, unfortunately,¡± he muttered, or rather grumbled, before raising his voice. ¡°Apparently the knights of Dael use this thing, but it''s barely known around here. Only rich collectors like lord Feanir have them.¡± ¡°Huh. So do I pull on it like that?¡± she said as she did the exact action she was describing. It still required a bit of strength, but to her surprise, it worked out perfectly. She did it! She had reloaded a crossbow. Wasn''t it supposed to be a men''s weapon? ¡°Now you take off the lever, put the bolt in the rail, and you''re ready to shoot.¡± Astrael explained before demonstrating. ¡°Clever,¡± she observed. ¡°But! It''s still far too large and heavy to be used by Rina or Timenon.¡± ¡°Oh-¡± She had almost voiced her excitement, but stopped at the last moment. She wasn''t supposed to know about Timenon, his illness, or how Astrael''s device would help him. ¡°You''ve told me it was a gift for the young mistress, but... Timenon?¡± she asked innocently. ¡°Sir Leon''s brother... If I recall. What does he have to do with this?¡± The kid glanced at her, raised a brow, and shrugged. Oh, you brat. ¡°Behold my own invention.¡± He went inside the armoury and returned shortly after with a smaller crossbow, another odd device attached to it. ¡°This crossbow is lighter and more practical to use for us weaklings and people of short stature.¡± ¡°And this lever is the one you''ve spent two weeks building, I assume.¡± ¡°Correct. I named it the cranequin.¡± There was no stirrup on this one, so he simply held the end of the crossbow against the ground with one hand and with the other, rotated a handle which drew the string back. It was only a guess, but the trick most likely had to do with this dented rack hooked on the string. Once he was done, he took off the device, put the bolt, and fired. He turned his head to face Julia, and had a smug expression. ¡°Of course, it can be improved. That device could span the bow of a much larger, heavier weapon, with the same ease. But it''s meant to be used by frail arms, so it''ll do for now.¡± Julia could only be in awe before this scene. Needless to say, she wouldn''t show it, or else the kid wouldn''t contain his arrogance, but still. She was so impressed, she had almost forgotten the reason she came here in the first place. ¡°Uh... So, is Leon here?¡± ¡°I do wonder what business you have with sir Leon,¡± Astrael nonchalantly said, denying her an answer. She gave him a mean glare and he chuckled. ¡°Try the study.¡± Julia grunted as a form of thanks and headed for said study. In the corner of her eye she saw Astrael''s mouth agape, probably about to ask if she knew where it was located, but she ignored him. She entered the manor through the front gates, climbed the stairs, walked the corridor and knocked at the door. ¡°One moment,¡± a voice said from inside the room. High-pitched yells from the courtyard reached her ears. ¡°Don''t step there, you brainless moron!¡± Probably a slave or a servant who had the misfortune of walking too close to Astrael''s drawings on the ground. Leon opened the door. ¡°Oh, it''s you,¡± he simply said before motioning for her to enter. ¡°Were you busy? Sorry.¡± ¡°It''s fine, I just wasn''t expecting you.¡± ¡°Expecting a shorter temple-dweller, perhaps,¡± she said with a smirk. He caught on the meaning and shrugged. ¡°Though he doesn''t seem to be doing much temple-dwelling these days. On a serious note, the young mistress is asking that you, err, give her brother back.¡± Leon let out a laugh, thinking she was jesting, then scoffed when he realized she wasn''t. ¡°Did she really say that? Give him back?¡± She nodded while glancing over the shelves in the study. ¡°Ah, children these days... She should know that he has been working on a present for her, though.¡± ¡°That crossbow thing.¡± The knight''s eyes flashed with excitement. ¡°Ah, you''ve seen it! What do you think? That kid''s mind is a treasure, I tell you.¡± ¡°What do I think, eh? It''s impressive, to say the least...¡± she admitted, a bit taken aback by Leon''s enthusiasm, though she knew the reason. ¡°Mh. Truly a lucky opportunity. Thanks again for telling me.¡± Julia was about to ask him something, but he seemed to have read her mind perfectly. ¡°Don''t worry, as far as everyone is concerned, I heard about it from the young mistress.¡± ¡°Good.¡± He rubbed his chin, seemingly pondering on an issue, and nodded to himself before sharing his conclusion with Julia. ¡°I''m thinking of making him a page. He would learn to ride and fight, before becoming my squire. Well, I doubt he would accept, but still.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Don''t you already have a bunch of pages and squires?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°And it doesn''t sound like something the young mistress would agree to. I just told you she wanted him to return to the temple, you know. Not spend the next twelve years or so by your side.¡± Leon chuckled. ¡°What are you talking about? It would be a shame if he were to fall in the hands of some other house, so I may as well try to keep him with us... And I''m supposed to be the chosen''s bodyguard, am I not? If I''m around her, then so is her brother.¡± ¡°What a bodyguard you are,¡± she snickered, ¡°protecting her from the other side of the city.¡± ¡°Oh, but I''m attending another woman right now.¡± He held her hand and rested his lips on it. Then pulled her arm and embraced her. ¡°A jealous one, it seems.¡± ¡°If you know her to be so jealous, why are you spending all your time sitting here in the inner-city?¡± Julia said, offering her neck to his lips. ¡°She can''t come to visit you everyday, you see.¡± He took her on on her offer. ¡°True, I must apologize. Father and I had affairs to take care of ¨C overseeing the recruitment of more men for the citywatch, and whatnot,¡± he said between two kisses. ¡°I didn''t have time to come to the temple. Though it seems you''re entirely capable of coming to see me, so...¡± ¡°But we should be more careful,¡± she whispered. ¡°Have the bloodsguards not taken a vow of celibacy?¡± The priests and priestesses of Xito too, for that matter, but Julia said these things without really caring. A false attempt to keep appearances which had been discarded long ago between the both of them. ¡°We have,¡± he whispered back. ¡°I have. So that I could be with you in the temple, instead of marrying some noble girl that I barely met twice.¡± The same words he used every time he felt like justifying himself. Then, he kissed her. * * * Julia hastily tidied her hair and dark red robes after exiting the study. She wasn''t worried about the servants who could see her in the manor, as it wasn''t the first time she was here. Nor was it anything exceedingly strange for a priestess of Xito to visit the captain of the bloodsguard, as long as it did not become a regular occurrence. But still, as she had said to Leon, she''d rather be careful and make her visits as rare as possible. In the courtyard, Astrael had stopped demolishing wooden logs with his crossbow bolts, and was now drawing diagrams with a quill, using the back of a slave as a support for his letter. ¡°Guess I''ll make another one for me, too,¡± he muttered before scribbling a note at the bottom of the paper. He thanked the man once he was done, gave him the letter along with instructions for an errand, and got back to whatever he was busy doing before ¨C cleaning and maintaining this cranequin of his, apparently. I don''t think I''ve ever seen a kid using a slave in such a mean way, only to thank him afterward... Adults though? Oh, she knew there was much worse than what she could possibly imagine, out there. Astrael noticed her in the corner of his eyes and called out to her. ¡°Ah, sister Julia, are you leaving us already?¡± ¡°I have to return to the temple for the young mistress'' lessons. You should also come back, you know.¡± Or else the young mistress will chew me out. His excellency Phiramel too was starting to get annoyed by the hero''s complaining... Couldn''t Leon have installed a workshop in the temple or something? It wasn''t as if they were using all the rooms at the temple. He sighed and stretched his arms. ¡°I suppose I should. I''m done here for the time being, anyway. Let''s go, then.¡± She raised a brow, as she didn''t expect the fight to be so easy. I''ll not complain, though. They walked through the gates while the coachman was waiting for them, but Astrael suddenly stopped. ¡°Forgot something?¡± she wondered. He squinted his eyes and stared at her. ¡°What''s with you? Have you been walking through a hurricane on your way to the study, or something?¡± Julia reflexively arranged her hair, which made the kid''s eyes widen. He approached her and sniffed, to her utter horror. ¡°Oh, dear gods...¡± he muttered with a grimace. ¡°W-what?¡± was all that she could manage to say in her confusion. Astrael groaned and shook his head with a scolding expression. ¡°I thought you a smart person who knew how to play the game,¡± he finally dared to say as he climbed in the carriage, ¡°but it turns out you''re just a fool. How silly of me.¡± Does he know!? ¡°A fool for spilling that cursed perfumed water laying at every corner of the house?¡± she blurted, attempting to dodge any possible suspicions. ¡°Well, I was careless and didn''t see it. Sorry if you''re bothered by the smell of flowers because it hides your aura of peasantry and dirt.¡± Astrael simply snorted and looked the other way like a pouting child. Well, he was a pouting child, wasn''t he? Once her embarrassment and anger faded, she couldn''t believe how rude she had just been. Oh, that was a mistake for sure. Hopefully he wouldn''t go and complain to the young mistress. Still, Julia strongly wished she could strangle the brat right now. Whatever he may or may have not mistaken her for, and whatever he may or may not have understood about her, she only hoped he wouldn''t spread weird rumours. Though it would be his word against hers. He is but a child. What could he have possibly understood anyway? Worst case scenario, couldn''t Leon just slay him somehow? Train him as a page like he said, then have some accident happening for instance. ¡°Now that I think about it,¡± Astrael said at last, ¡°I wouldn''t want my sister to get dragged into a scandal. How shameful it would be for her, if people learned that the captain of her guard and one of her priestesses were fools with an habit of... spilling perfumed water. I trust you''ll do your utmost to keep your clumsiness a most guarded secret.¡± He gave Julia a knowing smile. He really does know. ¡°Eh...¡± she stared at him, her face and voice as impassible as she could manage. ¡°Indeed. We''ll be more careful from now on.¡± ¡°Please do so.¡± This kid... Julia really didn''t need his meddling right now. But if she played her cards well, she could get him to cover for her ¨C as long as she made it clear she only had the young mistress'' best interests in mind. They travelled silently, until they passed by a bunch of soldiers who were busy mocking some poor-looking lad. One of the guards jokingly kicked him and laughed as his victim was struggling to get on his feet. Julia barely gave them a glance ¨C they were probably Danalion soldiers. ¡°That a slave?¡± Astrael asked, his cheek resting on his fist. ¡°These soldiers really are making the law here, it seems.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°What''s it to you? I didn''t take you for someone who was bothered by slavery. Next you''ll tell me we should free them.¡± Now it was Astrael who made a confused expression. ¡°Do you take me for a Daeli or something?¡± he said in a slightly offended tone. ¡°I''m only inquiring because we just saw soldiers misusing someone else''s property.¡± She wasn''t convinced by his argument. The boy they saw could have been one of Elric Danalion''s slaves, and regardless, slaves were slaves. ¡°How would you treat slaves then?¡± she asked out of curiosity, and at the same time recalling him in the manor''s courtyard. ¡°I wouldn''t concern myself with other people''s slaves, to begin with. My own, though? They would share my every joy and pain, become a part of my life, depend on me as much as I would depend on them. Ah, of course, they would commit suicide if I were to die for some reason. It would be improper if slaves were to outlive their master, don''t you think?¡± ¡°You...¡± Sound like you''ve read too many history books, she concluded in her mind. Especially the last part. ¡°You do understand the city-state of Callir would take custody of any slave whose master had passed away, right?¡± They were a precious workforce worth a certain amount of silver, after all. Having them commit suicide would be such a barbaric waste. ¡°I know. Thankfully Callir isn''t the only place in the world where I can have slaves.¡± True enough. There were city-states known to have such customs, centuries ago, but this lifestyle was a thing of the past, mostly ¨C but perhaps some countries were still thinking like that, who knew? Well, it wasn''t her problem anyway. Priests couldn''t own slaves, but if Julia had some, she would treat them as she saw fit. Probably not too differently from the way the treated the servants, however. There was no point in abusing people working for her, she wasn''t like some of these deviant owners who got a kick out of degrading their slaves. ¡°How is Rina doing with her studies?¡± Astrael asked once they arrived in front of the temple. ¡°I believe her physical classes have started by now.¡± ¡°Yes, she has met most of her tutors and masters. Why don''t you go see how she fares instead of asking me all that?¡± There was no reason he wouldn''t be allowed to do so. She couldn''t really speak for the other teachers, but as far as she was concerned, she would not mind Astrael also attending her lessons. She took turns with Phiramel to teach the young mistress about theology and morals, but the girl was never particularly enthralled. She was a complicated child, to say the least, and she doubted the brother could be worse. As they walked through the hall, Astrael gazed at the ceiling. It wasn''t the first time, and Julia had heard the servants talking about the boy occasionally sitting in the middle of the room and simply staring at the paintings. ¡°Now that I think about it, I''ve never been where the lessons take place.¡± ¡°It''s on the fourth floor. Come with me, I''ll show you.¡± And more importantly I need to show my good side. Sister Julia is the kind priestess who showed you around the temple and the city, right? It was still early, so the young mistress should have been in the middle of her physical education. Yesterday morning she had gymnastic exercises, and the day before, archery practise. Today is fencing, then. Astrael and Julia climbed the stairs and reached the fourth floor. They walked through a series of corridors, from which one could access the library, the amphitheatre and various rooms where acolytes and students were taught and where priests kept learning ever after the completion of their instruction. She occasionally had to wait for Astrael to snap out of his peeking whenever he heard bits of a lesson that caught his interest ¨C and it happened every ten seconds or so. Eventually they arrived at the gymnasium, a place that also served as training grounds and armoury for the templars. There was no one in the room currently, except the young mistress, her teacher, one of her servants, and two of her bodyguards. In truth, Leon Feanir, as captain of her guard and most reputed knight of the temple, should have been the young mistress'' fencing master, but Therenus intervened and, probably wanting to limit the influence of Phiramel''s faction, managed to give the job to one of his lackeys. Even though the man himself, a Vieran by the name of Odel, seemed competent enough, Julia was pissed off by the fact that Therenus had stolen the position away from Leon. And the elder''s lackey was probably not devoid of a political agenda. ¡°Faster, young mistress¡± the master''s voice reached Julia''s ears, amongst the sound of wooden swords clashing. ¡°Faster!¡± Despite her small size, the young mistress was restlessly hammering Odel with her weapon, mad eyes and gritted teeth that made her look like a wild beast, her black hair flowing behind her with each swing. The two bloodsguards watching from afar were chuckling among themselves, jokingly betting on whether or not the fencing master would end up losing. ¡°She sure looks passionate about it,¡± Astrael commented from behind. She glanced at him, expecting a grin of some sort on his face, but found no such thing. ¡°You seem surprised.¡± ¡°I sure am. I didn''t know that side of her.¡± A clattering noise made Julia turn her head. The young mistress was panting, hands on the knees, while her sword was laying on the ground a few meters away. ¡°We shall take a short break,¡± Odel said while the servant brought the girl a jug of water, ¡°before switching to the spear.¡± The young mistress noticed her brother and Julia, and gave them a shy wave, but she did not approach. After a few minutes, they began sparring again, with wooden spears this time. Seeing how the master was praising her, the young mistress was apparently doing good. Julia surmised it was because of the weapon''s reach, but she couldn''t really say as she knew next to nothing about warring, fighting or soldiering. These matters were rather boring to her, in truth. But the young mistress surely looks like she enjoys it, she thought, before glancing yet again at Astrael. She would have said that he, too, seemed to enjoy it ¨C he was a boy after all, even if he was strange. But she only saw very intense eyes staring at the clashing figures, and a serious, sinister expression on his face. She wasn''t sure why, but she shivered and felt compelled to look away. Thorns That Grow - Chapter 12 ¡°It is said that the heroes of Irixil are blessed with a particularly strong constitution. One of his chosen was once a doctor, known for visiting cities infested with plagues and rot, and curing victims of the worst scourges ¨C without ever getting sick himself. Some argued he was immune to any form of affliction. A shame that arrowheads cannot be considered a disease, for one eventually found its way through his heart. -Tarhas, History of the Known World¡± * * * Astrael ¡°Here, here,¡± Timenon said, trying to control his horse startled by the sounds of the huntsmen sharpening their swords and spanning their crossbows. He apparently tried to apply what little knowledge of riding he had learned this past year, but the horse kept neighing and moving. Astrael approached and gently stroke the horse''s neck, and soon enough the mount calmed down. ¡°You okay?¡± he asked, lending a hand to help Timenon dismounting. ¡°Yes, thank you,¡± the boy said with a genuine smile, before giggling. ¡°Something funny?¡± He shook his head and chuckled yet again. ¡°It feels like you''re my squire, instead of Leon''s.¡± Astrael laughed heartily, or at least he made it seem so, to hide his violent urge to kick the kid in the nuts. This damn squire business... he cursed. ¡°I''m not a squire yet,¡± he corrected. ¡°Just a page.¡± And he had officially been so for a year ¨C not a glorious status in his mind, and he had no intention of becoming Leon''s squire, even though it could lead to being anointed with a Callirian knighthood, or even allow him to enter the bloodsguard. But being a page was a good cover, at least for now. ¡°Come, let''s eat with the others.¡± Astrael left Timenon''s horse in the care of a servant, and they both joined lord Feanir and his hunting party. It was their first hunt with them, but that didn''t meant they would be taking it easy. In fact, it was Leon who insisted that Astrael should come, while his father was against it at first. Hunting was dangerous, he said ¨C as if they were people who weren''t aware of that ¨C to which Leon brazenly retorted that the danger was the whole point of the hunt. Astrael and Timenon hadn''t been told what would be today''s game, but chances were that they wouldn''t get to fire their crossbows regardless. Everyone was gathered in a small clearing, sitting or lying down next to tablecloths and sheets, eating fruits, bread and cheese. These carefree, comfortable positions that one would rarely see amongst blue-blooded families, reminded Astrael of the feasts and dinners in his time, where people would lie down on divans before stuffing themselves with all sorts of food, drinking themselves to death and speaking of immoral topics with joyous grins. Then it would end up in an orgy or something. He had a vivid vision of all the people gathered here taking part in such an event, which made him chuckle in disgust. The only ones who weren''t giving in that untroubled nonchalance right now were the lackeys, the guards, and the huntsman in charge of the hounds, Bert. Astrael frowned for what was probably the fifth time since they left city this morning. What was he doing here? ¡°You don''t like the food?¡± Leon wondered as he must have misinterpreted his grimace. ¡°Oh no, it''s fine.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Laurentias Feanir pitched in. ¡°You boys should eat plenty, it''ll get athletic this afternoon.¡± I''m sure it will. He gave the lord a fake smile. Surely we won''t spend the day comfortably riding our horses, eh? Spurred by his father''s words, Timenon took a large bite of bread. ¡°What''s the quarry?¡± he then asked, and Leon motioned for the expert huntsman, Bert, to approach. ¡°It''s a big game today,¡± Leon said with a grin as he unfolded a map of the forest. ¡°Bert, would you tell us where the bear''s den most likely is?¡± ¡°The bear?¡± Astrael repeated, brows raised. ¡°I thought there were no bears around Callir.¡± ¡°There shouldn''t be any,¡± Bert retorted. ¡°But farmers reported sighting a large animal, and we found two gutted hunters last week.¡± Lord Feanir sighed. ¡°The farmers'' descriptions and the huntsmen''s wounds all hint at a large adult bear. We don''t know anything about the beast, this is why I advised against taking the boys.¡± ¡°It''ll be fine, father,¡± Leon said, ¡°they shall watch from afar. And since someone needs to get rid of it, might as well be us. The king of the forest, it does sound like a quarry worthy of the entire Feanir family.¡± Where did it come from, though? He felt like it was an important question, but Astrael couldn''t exactly boast experience in bear hunting, nor did he study the lifestyle of these beasts. Aside from Laurentias and Astrael, no one seemed bothered by this element of uncertainty, as they must have simply thought it was a dangerous wild beast that needed to be taken care of. ¡°The den should be close to the river,¡± Bert said in his usual, indifferent growling. ¡°The huntsmen were found here, and the nearest farm is here,¡± he added and pointed to different locations on the map. Everyone observed the map and Bert''s indications, and Astrael tried to do so too, but he was disturbed by Timenon who wouldn''t stop fiddling with his crossbow or tinkering with the cranequin. Am I the only one bothered by it, or what? If he had to be honest, Astrael would have advised against letting Leon''s brother come, since he was the one who had the most chances to get injured, but ultimately he couldn''t care less. He had designed the crossbows and gifted one to the sick boy, and the endeavour bore the results he was expecting. ¡°How do we proceed?¡± ¡°The dogs will track the target, and bait it if it''s hiding in its den. Then,¡± Bert rummaged through a pouch strapped to his belt, and took out a crossbow bolt. ¡°White hellebore. Careful not to touch the heads.¡± Everyone here had a crossbow, save from a few lackeys and slaves in charge of luggage. Astrael and Timenon were carrying the modified weapon with its cranequin, but they hadn''t been given poisoned bolts. Lord Feanir reached for something behind him. ¡°We also brought bear spears¡± he said, showing off one of the overly large weapons, of which the blade had been steeped in white hellebore too, judging by the clothes wrapped around it. They finished their meal and began to move through the forest, toward the river. They had left behind the horses in order to favour stealth. Mounts would have been useful if they had to flee from the bear, but it seemed the goal was to kill it no matter what. Come what may.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°So, Bert, my favourite mercenary,¡± Astrael said to the man who was walking beside him. ¡°Why are you with us today?¡± Bert gave him a blank look. ¡°Because I work for the Feanir family.¡± ¡°Of course you do.¡± He smiled knowingly. That is why Julia relied on you the first day I came to Callir. ¡°And since when have you been working for them?¡± He felt like he already had this conversation once. ¡°Since always.¡± ¡°Oh, always. A great word, as inaccurate as it surely is. How did you enter their service?¡± Bert grunted and glanced behind. ¡°You should get back with the others. I have a job to do, and it has nothing to do with babysitting you this time.¡± He complied and slowed down, and Bert''s pace fastened while the hounds picked up scents and whatnot, whereas the rest of the group followed from a distance. Astrael was now walking behind Timenon, who needed the help of a servant to stride over tree trunks and rocks. The poor boy was drenched in sweat, it was probably the most exhausting activity he ever had to do. His crossbow loosely dangling from his belt, while his hand hovered around his bolt case from time to time. It made him smile to himself. Is he expecting the bear to ambush us or something? He could have reassured him somehow, but the truth was, being comforted by a child three or four years younger would surely embarrass him more than anything. Having an overly competent and charismatic brother like Leon was probably fine, because he was the older brother. But if Timenon found out that Astrael, too, was in many ways better than him, it would be humiliating. And who knew, Timenon could end up resenting him. Having a good relationship with the future head of the Feanir house was a priority. Even if Astrael was to leave the city, grudges could be passed on to Rina, and that would not do. Astrael glanced around. He spotted Bert in the distance, walking ahead of the group, with the hounds, still scouting the path and following tracks and broken branches. Leon and his father were some dozens of meters behind him, while guards and servants occupied the flanks and the rear. The men at the rear of the group were slaves carrying luggage. They probably paid little attention to what was going on around them. He faced Timenon''s back yet again, and stared at his frail figure for a moment. I could kill him... I could crush the future of Phiramel''s faction, right now. A crossbow bolt in the back would perhaps be too much, but there were smoother ways. Astrael could mess with the straps of Timenon''s saddle. The boy wasn''t an accomplished rider, it wouldn''t be suspicious if he was to fall from horseback. He had been learning with Astrael, and with only one year of experience, all sorts of accidents could happen. And perhaps nature would prove itself whimsical, and have the boy''s skull crushed against a stone or under a hoof after he fell. Bert was nowhere to be seen now. The group had stopped, too, probably waiting for the huntsman to return with information on the bear''s den. He could also simply cut him with the tip of a poisoned bolt. Here, in the forest, where one wouldn''t notice all the branches and thorns on his way, it wasn''t unusual to have a scratch or two. Timenon would probably think nothing of it, and once it became clear that he had been poisoned, people would assume the clumsy boy caused the injury himself. He chuckled. Doing such a thing now would be pointless. He could have poisoned Timenon''s food a long time ago, had he wanted to. But the boy was far more useful alive than dead, and if the Feanir house were to lose its heir now, Therenus and lord Danalion would gain even more power ¨C them, he couldn''t hope to crush from the inside. Bert came back a short while after. He had a few words with Leon and lord Feanir, then the group began moving again. This time, the servants, Timenon and Astrael were instructed to keep a safe distance, just in case. ¡°Scared?¡± Leon asked in a slightly mocking tone. Timenon faked a courage and a hot-headedness everyone knew he didn''t have. ¡°Of course not! I''m excited, I''d say.¡± ¡°Why don''t you give us poisoned bolts too?¡± Astrael inquired. Just in case. He had to make sure Timenon stayed alive, after all. ¡°Scared we might scratch ourselves with it?¡± he mocked in the same tone Leon previously used. He shook his head. ¡°I''d be a fool to trust kids with this stuff.¡± ¡°Aren''t you a fool already for taking kids on a bear hunt?¡± Timenon jabbed. Leon made a grimace that betrayed how victimized he felt, having to deal with these two brats. ¡°Bah. No way. What if you accidentally touch the-¡± ¡°I probably know more about white hellebore than you do, Leon,¡± Astrael said impatiently. Seeing the knight''s perplexed face, he had no other choice but to explain himself, albeit vaguely. ¡°My teacher Horace told be about plants I should be wary of. I know the symptoms and what to do if they occur.¡± ¡°It sounds like this teacher of yours is a fairly educated man,¡± Laurentias interjected. ¡°Is he the one who taught you about crafting and engineering, too?¡± Astrael flashed a smile of appreciation. ¡°Indeed. He taught me everything I know, and he is the one who made me discover Euronel.¡± The lord nodded and rubbed his bearded chin. ¡°Well, Euronel is a classic. You said his name was Horace, mmh?¡± ¡°Yes...¡± Astrael couldn''t quite put his finger on what it was, but he had an uneasy feeling. ¡°He is an apothecary with a passion for literature.¡± ¡°Eh... It''s funny. If I recall correctly, one of Euronel''s students was named Horace too. He was advisor to the last king of Callir, but no one knows what happened to him after the monarchy fell.¡± Lord Feanir had a strange expression, and an undecipherable gleam in his eyes. Astrael acted as if he was a dense child who couldn''t read between the lines, but there was no room for doubt. The man probably knew ¨C and so did Astrael. They weren''t that many apothecaries of vast culture, with a collection of books large enough to raise suspicions regarding their relative absence of wealth, that had left Callir for reasons they refused to speak of. Horace had the ideal age, too. He must have been a young man when it all happened. Astrael frowned in confusion. When what happened, exactly? He had heard about the last king''s cruelty. Did Horace play any role in this? Did he took part in the revolt? Why exactly had he left Callir? The reason could have been the obvious one, or perhaps something more complicated. ¡°Bah, the world is brimming with coincidences, isn''t it?¡± Laurentias suddenly concluded. ¡°I myself was a mere boy at the time, my memories are all fuzzy.¡± He then chuckled and patted Astrael''s head. ¡°Leon, give them some of these poisoned bolts. I choose to believe that Astrael''s teacher has taught him enough about hellebore and whatnot.¡± ...What a ridiculous development. Astrael decided to keep his mouth shut about Horace from now on, while he made sense of the possibles explanations. He would have to keep an eye on lord Feanir, too. Perhaps I should send a letter to Horace and warn him... That is, if they let me. But for now, he had to focus on the hunt. Bert led the group to what he assumed to be the den ¨C a small cave that could probably fit a few humans. Each of their steps made what seemed to be absurdly loud crushing noises, as they walked on dry fallen leaves in the otherwise silent forest. They lay in wait for some time, wordlessly observing the surroundings. Then a hand signal was given, and Bert released the dogs. They rushed in the cave, barking and yapping, taunting and angering the target, and the huntsman whistled to make them come back and bait the beast outside. In place of the dogs coming out of the den, only their squeals escaped, followed by the sound of torn flesh and broken bones. Bert frowned, the other hunters stopped their breathing, and Timenon tightened his grip on the crossbow. Astrael put a hand on his arm. ¡°Don''t. You''ll risk firing on someone because of your nervousness.¡± The boy nodded and swallowed loudly as he loosened his grasp. ¡°It''s just a bear,¡± Leon muttered, but Astrael wasn''t sure whether it was for himself or his brother. A growling reached their ears, and the hunters readied their crossbows and spears, and aimed at the entrance of the den. Then the bear showed itself, and Astrael frowned. Perhaps these were the normal size of bears here, but this one was the biggest one he had ever seen. Dark brown fur, sharp claws and a foamy mix of blood and saliva oozing from between its fangs. ¡°It''s big,¡± Timenon simply whispered, but everyone seemed too focused to retort something clever or mock him for his obvious remark. A single hand gesture form Bert, and the first volley of bolts came, piercing the bear from every direction. It growled and screeched, clawed at the air, its mad eyes darting, glancing over the people surrounding him. The hunters reloaded their crossbows, and every time the bear meant to approach, the bolts would make it retreat. Yet it wasn''t going back in its cave. Cubs, maybe. Else it felt it had no choice but to fight if it wanted to survive, that or it was truly mad. Soon the bear''s anger faded away, and it became tired. The poison must have started to weaken him. Laurentias Feanir deemed it the appropriate moment to step forward, spear in hand. The bear let out a last single growl before the spear pierced its neck. It gurgled, twisted itself in pain, and before long, all was left was its lifeless, bloodied body. ¡°See, Timenon?¡± Leon said as he put a hand on his brother''s shoulder. ¡°This is what you missed until now. Mankind against the animal reign. Such confrontations should be a thing of the past ¨C but it is our privilege.¡± ¡°A privilege...¡± Timenon repeated. The carcass was now being carefully dissected and skinned by the merry hunters. Since bears were rare around Callir, the locals didn''t often get to see the claws, teeth, and fur. Astrael sighed and gazed up, at the grey sky. With his comrades, in the past, he had hunted wild boars, tigers, lions, even elephants, but this was his first bear ever. A faint feeling of melancholy lingering in his mind, as he recalled these times. ¡°Be proud of it, and do not tarnish the hunt.¡± Leon unsheathed a knife at his belt and led his younger brother toward the dead bear. ¡°Now, we have to honour it.¡± The Sad Princess - Chapter 13 ¡°Dael the Conqueror was the founder of the eponymous kingdom ¨C one of the greatest nations of the Middle Sea, and the largest for sure. His centuries-old legacy still stands to this day, and his many descendants whose bloodlines formed the current Daeli nobility, have always been compelled to carry on their ancestor''s dreams of conquest, abruptly ended by an unforeseen tragedy. -Tarhas, History of the Known World¡± * * * Ezveril The blurry skylight coming from the high-windows was blinding her yet she kept staring. She could stare as long as it was cloudy, but when the clouds were gone and the sun shined of its brightest rays, she had to face away. ¡°Err...¡± said the man who looked up from his canvas and stared at her. ¡°Please keep still, your highness...¡± Ezveril grunted and pursed her lips. She then heard her maidservant sigh. ¡°Stop grimacing,¡± the woman said, and seeing how she kept moving on her seat and playing with her fingers, she reprimanded her once more. ¡°And stop fidgeting!¡± ¡°But I''m bored.¡± It had been going on for too long. Her back was sore and her bottom ached. Why did she have to stay seated here, getting yelled at every time she blinked or whatever? If the man really was the greatest painter in the kingdom as they said, couldn''t he at least make beautiful pictures without a still model? As if he had read her thoughts, the man put down his palette and scratched his hair. ¡°Shall we take a break? I believe the princess is getting tired.¡± You don''t say. Ezveril nodded and jumped from her chair. ¡°She is ten already,¡± the servant retorted, ¡°she cannot act like a child anymore.¡± She glared at the maid and was about to turn around and run out of the room, but hesitated and decided to check the painting before. She timidly approached the artist, who simply beamed and stepped aside to let her have a look. ¡°Why am I smiling? I wasn''t smiling!¡± she squealed, frowning. ¡°Ah, err... Your highness wouldn''t grant me the grace of her smile, so I had to rely on my humble imagination.¡± There was a reason she didn''t grant him the grace of anything, in fact, but nobody seemed to care about it. She simply pouted and followed her original plan, which was to run out of the room, away from this cursed painting. ¡°Princess, wait!¡± the maidservant called out, but she wouldn''t look back. At the door stood Hilne clad in her plate armour, and they exchanged awkward glances as the bodyguard moved away from the exit. Ezveril only heard the woman mutter something, and this time she looked back to see her bowing, her neck-length dark hair hiding her face. Nevertheless, she kept running away, her light footsteps echoing on the marble slabs of the Palace''s corridors, blinking back her tears. She took the large stairs that led out of the tower, to the main keep, and at some point stopped to stare through the windows and watch the knights training in the courtyard. Two of them were sparring under the cheers and applauses of the others ¨C one clad in a black plate, the other in grey steel with a blue and golden cloth wrapped around him. They wielded maces and iron shields, bashing each other with their weapons, and it went on for some time. Eventually, the knight in black managed to swiftly dodge a swing and went for his opponent''s legs in return, tackling him on the ground. He immobilized one of the grey knight''s arms with his knee and unsheathed a dagger that he pointed at the man''s face through the slit of his helm, therefore achieving victory under the thunderous cheers. She scoffed, still sour from reasons that had nothing to do with the knights. Hilne could beat the both of them if she wanted to. Hilne could do everything, after all. The female knight was the only woman to ever enter the royal guard, if anyone needed proof of her talent. But never, ever, would she be acclaimed like these two down there. Ezveril knew that. The black knight offered a hand to help his sparring partner getting on his feet. The latter took his helmet off, revealing him to be duke Reydar Agelien, the crown prince''s brother. Ezveril needed not the black knight to show his face to know who he was. The people bellowing his name were more than enough. Darius Neraldes, Darius Neraldes, they screamed. She knew that name. Wasn''t he the king''s military advisor? ¡°Princess!¡± came the servants'' voices echoing in the stairs. Ezveril resumed her escape, and went to search for a place where her maids and the damn painter wouldn''t be able to find her. As long as the portrait isn''t finished, they can''t send it! She ran, and ran, kept running for what could have been ten minutes or an hour. Eventually, she ended up in the royal chambers, where she knew the maids would hesitate to go. The king was grumpy these days, and was prone to bursts of anger for the slightest disturbances. Her grand-father used to be a kind man who loved to play with his royal descendants, but now that he was bedridden, he was very touchy. The guards bowed when she passed in front of the king''s apartments, and for a moment she thought about going in. But she would risk having an empty cup of wine thrown at her if she was to make the slightest sound. If it hits me, I''ll have a bruise, though... It could delay the painting. But then again, the maids would probably use make-up to cover it and the painter had no obligation to depict her exactly as she was. He had already painted a smile that wasn''t even there, if he was ready to go to such extents, he would surely ignore a mere bruise. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Liars and cheaters, the bunch of them! Ezveril thought, bitter and chafed, as she kept walking deeper and deeper in the royal chambers. They''ll never find me. But then she realized her mistake. The guards saw her, and if the maids asked them where she was, they would surely tell the truth. She turned around and went in the other direction, wanting to avoid being trapped in this floor, when she heard voices in the distance. Already? Fearing the maids, she hid behind the curtains of one of the many windows in the corridors. ¡°...confirmed the existence and location of the heroes of Atharemine and Xito, at last,¡± said a masculine, melodious voice. Not one of her servants. Weird. ¡°Do we know their identities?¡± That low-pitched voice, she knew ¨C it was her father. She thought about showing herself, but somehow felt compelled to stay hidden. ¡°Yes, your highness. Xito''s is a Callirian girl in the custody of the Blood church, and the Night is a commoner boy who works with priests in the sanctuaries. I''m afraid he is not in Dael anymore, though.¡± ¡°Ah, let me guess. He is moving from one sanctuary to another?¡± The first man grunted as a means of acquiescing. ¡°What else?¡± A third voice pitched in. ¡°They are the same age as the others, as your highness surmised.¡± This one was a hoarse, tired voice. ¡°About thirteen or fourteen, last we heard.¡± ¡°They do not pose a military threat as of yet,¡± the melodious voice added, ¡°but Callir will get more powerful and influential with each year passing, as the news spread. So will the Vierans, now that their chosen has begun to tour their cities...¡± The voices passed near Ezveril''s curtain, and she held her breath. ¡°The Sword has also been sighted in the mercenary city of Tehen, I believe? Things are already tense with the kingdom of Paar, we can''t have all these city-states showing their fangs too because they got cocky... What of our own asset?¡± The man with the hoarse voice cleared his throat. ¡°Ehm... Our champion of Pelirise is still garrisoned at the eastern borders, making an example out of the hostile nomads that roam the plains. The people already speak of him as a saviour of light. He is doing well despite his young age. If... If I may, your highness...¡± ¡°Speak, minister Dagheon.¡± Now that they were walking away, she decided to follow them carefully. Hiding from one curtain to another. Her father was walking between the two others, his ash blonde hair flowing with each step. The minister, an old man, complied. ¡°If you are worried about the Callirians, I would point out their trade with the Vieran cities. It is where we should strike.¡± The melodious voice scoffed. ¡°Do you suggest a blockade? Overly complicated. Can we not simply have the girl die?¡± Ezveril saw a glimpse of his smug grin and his young face as he mocked the minister. ¡°No,¡± Her father replied. ¡°The seers spoke of a coming storm. We cannot risk weakening our enemies by getting rid of their heroes when we don''t know what the future holds. And it would only anger the Callirians and give them purpose to track down the assassins. They would ally with the cities of Viera, and perhaps even Paar.¡± ¡°Ah... A most wise observation, as expected of the crown prince,¡± the old man flattered. The youth stopped and faced the prince. ¡°I have a middle-ground, then,¡± he said, raising his arm theatrically. ¡°Send assassins, but give them a culprit. Have Vierans do the deed, for instance.¡± The crown prince thought for a bit. ¡°...If played well, it would certainly be a blow to the trade between Callir and the other city-states. But what of Xito''s hero?¡± The grinning man shrugged. ¡°Perhaps she''ll live, perhaps she won''t. Either way, both sides shall be crippled, and breaking the Vieran''s ties to Callir will allow us to retake control of Ocia more easily. It''s a risk your highness must be willing to take.¡± Ocia... Ezveril frowned. She had heard enough, and now she felt like crying again. ¡°Should we inform his majesty?¡± one asked, but she stopped following them and the voices faded as she walked away silently. ¡°No need, father isn''t... ...what do you suggest?¡± ¡°...make sure to hire... ...it''s pointless if they escape...¡± ¡°...also use a Vieran intermediary, of course.¡± She didn''t care anymore about what they were saying. They plotted and schemed and whatnot, and that was all they did. Ezveril wanted no part in it, but none of them would concern themselves with her opinion, not even her own father. Only Hilne cared, but she couldn''t do anything. She turned at a corner and bumped into something hard. ¡°Ah, princess! Apologies.¡± That voice was the only one she wanted to hear right now. ¡°Hilne,¡± she said as she rubbed her stinging forehead and looked up at the knight''s face. She was tall, taller than most women, but also prettier than most. The knight kneeled and put a single finger on Ezveril''s cheek. ¡°Why were you weeping, your highness?¡± She hadn''t noticed she was crying. The tears came with a twofold intensity now, and Hilne hugged her against her steel breastplate. It was cold and uncomfortable, yet soothing. She closed her eyes and put her arms around the knight''s neck. ¡°I don''t want to go to Ocia...¡± ¡°I know, princess,¡± came the woman''s reply after a moment, ¡°but nothing has been decided yet. Perhaps you won''t have to, in the end.¡± That sounded like a sweet lie. Ezveril knew her father to be a iron-willed man, and so a change of plans was very unlikely to happen. ¡°Am I not fine as long as they don''t send the portrait?¡± ¡°Your royal father will be angered if this goes on. The regent of Ocia has heard a great deal about your beauty, but she wishes to see the painting before she agrees to marry her son to you. It would be... troubling, if the portrait never came.¡± She separated from Hilne and looked down at her feet. ¡°But is it really so important that father has to send me away?¡± ¡°You will understand when you''re older. Ocia is a key city for the trade between the Middle Sea and the eastern farmlands. It is indeed so important that your father doesn''t have a choice but to separate himself from his beloved daughter.¡± Ezveril wanted to believe that. She wished so hard she could believe it, yet she couldn''t help doubting. What if he was sending her to a foreign city because he didn''t love her? ¡°I don''t want to...¡± she insisted. ¡°I''ll be there with you, my princess.¡± ¡°But what about you! I know you don''t want to go either. You''ll be leaving your friends and family too...¡± Hilne gave her a sad but gentle smile. ¡°It is my duty as a royal guard and as a Neraldes, even if I am only from a lesser branch family. My lord uncle doesn''t complain when he has to travel the lands with his army. And regardless, I would never leave you by yourself.¡± ¡°Really?¡± She dried her tears. The knight nodded. ¡°You are my sun, princess. My own Pelirise, if I dare say so, and to hell with the gods and their heroes if it displeases them.¡± Hearing that, Ezveril giggled. ¡°Your sun...¡± Hilne got to her feet and took a deep breath. ¡°Now, your highness, don''t fret. You are the daughter of Arthian Agelien, who will soon become the most powerful man of the Middle Sea ¨C there is no need to be afraid of Ocia and its people. And if the little Vieran lord or his mother are disrespectful to you in any way, I''ll slap the life out of them, I swear it on my honour.¡± Stained With Blood - Chapter 14 ¡°Tales of explorers about the uncharted world are such that we cannot single out truth and fact from myth and exaggeration. Legends of dark gods worshipped by old empires at the edge of the world, of primeval forests harbouring frightening fauna in the south, and barren lands beyond the eastern plains... Few dare wander toward these uncivilized places, fewer come back alive from their journeys. -traveller¡± * * * Astrael He closed a thick, ragged grimoire in a clap and let out a long sigh. Still nothing. Astrael got up from his chair and went to put the book back on its shelf. At this rate, he would have gone through every single work in the temple''s library, without success. Neither Tarhas nor Milemnon, two of the greatest Callirian scholars, made mention of anything relevant in the many books they wrote during their lives. Euronel had only visited the Vieran cities and the western kingdoms, but he was far from being an expert on ancient history anyway. The scriptures of Xito weren''t of any help either. So far, there was no mention of his past deeds, or those of his comrades. But then again, their fight against the corruption hadn''t been entirely forgotten, since one of them was featured in the paintings of the hall. There should have been hints somewhere, and he intended to find them. Astrael walked to the acolyte in charge of the library, and asked once more for help. ¡°Is there anything serious about the Abyss, the demons, or whatever?¡± The man raised his nose from a piece of parchment and stared at him, obviously not pleased by the half-hearted request and the tone with which it was made. ¡°Young master...¡± he said, and exhaled deeply before continuing. ¡°You cannot expect me to find something that would satisfy you at this point. You''ll do as usual and mock the Callirian legends, calling them a bunch of child tales and whatnot.¡± ¡°But it is what they are. Would you rather have me lying to your face?¡± He frowned. ¡°I would have you study history with the same seriousness that is expected of acolytes and priests,¡± he said in a smug tone. What''s with your high horse? You''re not even a priest yet. ¡°Or perhaps you mean to say that you can differentiate truth and falsehoods among our texts.¡± ¡°Certainly.¡± The acolyte made a grimace that hinted at his growing fury. ¡°So, any lead? I''m sure you remember this, but my sister sees this venture as a most important one. Perhaps your precious cooperation would compel her to, say, facilitate your studies toward priesthood... On the other hand, how would she react if she learned that you hindered my research, I wonder?¡± It was a lie ¨C there was no way he could have told Rina about his past fights, just to satisfy his curiosity. Still, if he asked her, she would play along without a doubt. The man clicked his tongue. ¡°Fine. Err... demonic corruption and history of ancient gruesome diseases, was it?¡± Astrael nodded, and the acolyte mumbled something insulting before sighing and continuing. ¡°I''ll see if I can find more books about these... fields. Come back tomorrow.¡± ¡°I''ll come by tonight,¡± Astrael said with his best smile and walked away, ignoring the angry muttering of the librarian. He stepped outside the large paper-smelling room and wandered in the corridors of the fourth floor. Stopped at a door where a lesson about geography took place ¨C he glimpsed at the map spread on the table, and a few students who noticed his presence greeted him with a nod. He listened for a bit, but grew bored of the lesson since he already knew these things, and so he resumed his walk through the corridors. A priest bowed his head to him as they passed each other, and a few acolytes gossiped in their corner, perhaps thinking he couldn''t hear them. He had grown used to these sorts of occurrences. For some, he was still the hero''s brother, and that alone was enough to earn him respect and fake smiles. Rina had it worse of course, for whenever she wasn''t admired and worshipped like a deity, she still had to deal with obvious flatterers and conspicuous backscratchers, whereas Astrael could afford to ignore them, or be ignored. Still, that flattery was often also extended to him by some of these knaves. Others knew him as sir Leon''s promising squire and saw him train with the bloodsguard, or ride along the Feanir family. A few more often met him in the library. As he walked toward the training hall, the sounds of clashing steel reverberated through the corridor. He entered the room, saw a few people in mail and leather sparring amongst themselves, and spotted Rina immediately. As usual when she trained, she had traded her red gown for a gambeson. Her loosely tied hair whirling as she gracefully thrusted, stepped in, slashed. Dodged a blow, and kicked her opponent, sending him to the ground. The man tried to get up, only to groan in pain and fall on his back once more. Poor lad must have a few broken ribs. These blunt iron swords were at fault, no doubt. Or maybe it was Rina''s kick? Claps echoed, and Astrael glanced to the wall against which master Odel was laying his back. The man looked proud to see his student obliterating her sparing partner. ¡°How''s it going?¡± Astrael slurred as he neared the fencing master. The bald Vieran raised a brow and crossed his arms, showing off his biceps swelling through the light grey-blue fabric of his tunic. ¡°Can''t you see?¡± he said in his slight accent. A few people came to help Rina''s sparring partner while she was wiping the sweat on her forehead with her sleeve. Astrael scoffed. ¡°All I see is some squire too afraid to swing his weapon at the young mistress because of her title. That isn''t a fight.¡± Odel spat on the ground but seemed to share his opinion. ¡°Yeah, well... Good luck finding someone her level who would be willing to hurt her.¡± True enough. The fencing master had enough courage ¨C or cruelty ¨C not to treat Rina like a delicate flower, but he was too skilled to have a real spar with her. Finding a Callirian who wouldn''t hold back wasn''t an easy task. Aside from the remorseless Odel, maybe the indifferent Bert? No, he also was too strong. ¡°What about you?¡± the master asked. Astrael scratched his head. He had already thought of it, though that wasn''t right either. Not anymore, at least. But Odel had a creepy, smug expression that hinted at his own conclusions. ¡°That blue-blooded Feanir kid says good things about you. Brags about you, even. Might just be because he resents me from stealing his job though, hah.¡± ¡°Leon? What absurdities has he been spreading?¡± The baldy''s mouth twisted in a grin that showed his shining teeth. ¡°Word is you''re a natural at this. He says he''s never seen a lad like you.¡± That''s because Leon isn''t as good a swordsman as everyone seems to think... That didn''t mean he was wrong, on the contrary ¨C simply that Leon''s praise didn''t hold that much value in Astrael''s mind. He frowned and tried to avoid this expected development. ¡°You want me to bully my own sister.¡± ¡°Oh, who said anything about bullying? Quite confident, are we?¡± He let out an exasperated groan. In any case, the best way to get rid of the man''s annoying insistence was to show how futile this venture was. ¡°Just observe, you hairless foreigner.¡± He took two round shields from a wooden rack, walked toward Rina and handed her one, before grabbing the iron sword that the injured lad had dropped. It might do her some good, actually. It wasn''t as if his sister had became arrogant, but she had to understand that knowing how to mistreat the ribcages of grovelling squires wouldn''t be of any help on the battlefield. ¡°Are we duelling?¡± she asked, immediately making her sword swirl in her hand with a confident expression, yet glancing at Odel and a few other onlookers. Astrael strapped the shield to his left arm. ¡°Indeed, young mistress,¡± he said as he mocked the master''s accent, loudly enough for him to hear. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The city-states of Viera and Callir shared the same language ¨C and so did the easternmost city-states of Tehen and Ebion ¨C with only small differences. A few idioms and words changed depending on the cultures, but it was mostly the Vierans'' pronunciation that was of note ¨C a melodious rhythm and a tendency to stress syllables in strange places. According to the fencing master, it was the Callirians who had an accent, but Astrael wouldn''t know how true that was. They both took a stance, shields up and blades ready to strike. Rina was the first to move and tried a botte which he warded off. He came in and bashed her with the shield, but she managed to fall back and dodged the following strike. They danced for a bit in that fashion, testing the waters, playing rather than seriously attacking. But soon enough the gap between them showed. His blade and shield kept meeting every strike coming at him, never putting himself in harm''s way, whereas Rina had been caught several times, on the arms, the thigh, the calf, the sides. He had been careful not to aim for her head or joints, but it was obvious her limbs and muscles ached. She was panting, her movements were more sluggish with each minute passing, and more importantly, her face betrayed her frustration. She tried one last assault, an angry and clumsy one, raising her sword very predictably. He blocked the swing mid-air and before she could do anything, swept her feet. That should do... A glance around told him their bout had attracted a few onlookers. It wasn''t everyday that they got to see the young mistress getting hit like that. ¡°Alright everyone,¡± Odel bellowed, ¡°get back to training.¡± Seeing that some of them kept stealing glances at Rina and Astrael, he growled. ¡°Stop lazying around or I''ll whack the crap out of you, I swear it on Viera''s tits!¡± ¡°Are you okay?¡± Astrael said to his sister who lied down on the ground, her skin shining and her clothes drenched. She simply nodded between two breaths. Odel approached. ¡°You.¡± He had a suspicious frown. ¡°Aren''t you a bit too good for a mere squire?¡± Of course I am. ¡°Want to see if I''m good enough to be the fencing master?¡± Astrael retorted flatly, entering a staring contest with the Vieran. The man kept his cold gaze up for a bit, before scoffing and walking away. ¡°You should be taking care of the young mistress instead of spouting nonsense.¡± Astrael snorted, before helping Rina to her feet. After they left the training hall, they did not speak of their bout, nor did they address Rina''s carelessness or Astrael''s skill ¨C the former she probably understood, the latter she was already aware of. ¡°You don''t mind?¡± she finally asked, looking at him. He glanced at her in the corner of his eye. ¡°Mind what?¡± he said even though he knew. Rina shrugged and massaged her forearm, where he had hit her. She would have bruises for sure, lots of them. ¡°I thought you wanted to keep a low profile.¡± ¡°It''s fine,¡± Astrael replied, waving his hand. ¡°Your consecration is... what, four months away? Whatever interest people have for me now will be gone once it happens.¡± A groan escaped her mouth. ¡°You say that as if it was a good thing.¡± ¡°Of course it is. The likes of Phiramel still treat you like a child, but that''ll change once you officially become the hero.¡± Callir''s population was already well aware of Rina''s existence and status by now, but going through the proper ceremony was a necessary step. Here on the altar, under the statue of the first hero, people would witness the blessing as Rina offered herself to the blood god. ¡°They''ll probably try to whisper many... advices, and whatnot, before then,¡± he added. ¡°If you''re to represent the church of Xito, you can be sure that the high-ranked churchmen won''t be able to reprimand you in public after that.¡± Though I doubt most would dare to reprimand her at all. She has been chosen by a god, after all ¨C it doesn''t get much better in terms of legitimacy and credibility... He chuckled. ¡°So now they probably think they should exert as much influence as they can before it''s too late. These next four months shall be very tiring for you, I gather.¡± ¡°Nothing I can''t handle,¡± she said half-heartedly. ¡°Hopefully.¡± ¡°You don''t have a choice anyway,¡± he said with a beam. ¡°Keep acting docile and let them believe you''re the ideal puppet.¡± These words echoed in a strange way in his mind, as they roamed the corridors and passed by all sorts of bowing people. Docile, every single one of them. The servants and slaves were even worse, since they really seemed to see Rina as a walking deity. Some sort of idiotic rumour among the plebs, one that turned an already worth worshipping existence into a even more godly one. One that would have heroes being the reincarnations of their predecessors, or perhaps the incarnation of the gods themselves. It made very little sense, but it was popular among the less educated bunch ¨C poor, illiterate beggars and slaves the most. These ones here all had the same look of surprise, the widening eyes and the agape mouth when they understood who she was, dropping whatever they were carrying and kneeling on the ground, showing her their bare backs, tanned and bony like the rest of their bodies, with just enough muscle to fulfil the tasks their masters had given them. ...Slaves? There shouldn''t be any slave in the temple save for a few exceptions, yet these days Astrael kept seeing many of them here. He asked Rina about it, as he couldn''t bear the idea of not being aware of something. ¡°Elder Therenus allowed them in,¡± she explained. Figures. They look and sound like Vierans. ¡°Helping for the ceremony''s preparations, apparently.¡± ¡°Now? Is the lurker finally losing his wits, or perhaps has he gone deaf to the point where he cannot hear the people telling him he was months too early?¡± ¡°I think he wanted to beat Phiramel to the punch.¡± She paused and frowned. ¡°It''s all about appearances, isn''t it? A pissing contest.¡± Astrael couldn''t have said better himself. ¡°Speaking of which. You''d better catch up on this appearance thing, the chosen of Xito can''t be heard using such words.¡± ¡°What''s so fun about their stupid race anyway?¡± she fumed, ignoring him. ¡°Fighting for power and all that, despite knowing they won''t be the ones in charge.¡± How could he explain her? Such naivety still surfaced from time to time, and it was better to correct it as soon as possible. Perhaps a legend from his land would do. ¡°Beloved sister,¡± he began, ¡°let me tell you a story. A tale, to be exact.¡± ¡°Oh. Something you''ve read in the library? Shall we go there and find the book?¡± Astrael shook his head. ¡°Nothing of the sort. This particular tale, you won''t find here.¡± She looked like she wanted to ask more, but fortunately she stayed silent nonetheless. ¡°A long, long time ago ¨C eons ago, when powerful men knew little of commerce and politics compared to our days, but already had the desire to rule their kin and amass wealth ¨C there was a man named- ...eh, I think in Callirian we would call him... Demnir. That man was born with nothing but dust and guile, and though he knew he would end up with nothing, as all men do when they return to dust, he saw what the world had to offer and wanted it all. ¡°And he started with wealth. He made himself traveller, and wandered the lands in search of opportunities. He made himself cartographer, and sold precious maps to armies and rebels alike. He made himself craftsman, and sold weapons to those taking part in the wars he helped lengthen. He made himself plunderer, grave-robber, merchant, and one way or another, gathered rich fabrics, perfumes, gold and jewels. Before long he was the richest man alive. ¡°Demnir became what we call a merchant prince, wealthier than kings themselves, and that alone allowed him to fulfil each of his desires. And one of these was none other than power. He could have built his own city, or asked for the hand of a princess, had he wished so. But along the way, Demnir had learned of the jealousy of men, and how the envied were also short-lived. ¡°And so, rather than buying a crown or a throne, he decided to play god. Using his wealth, his fame and his connections, he made kings, or even unmade them. Nations and empires were dragged into wars and alliances at the mere utterance of Demnir''s words. Armies, scientists, governments, they all depended on him, as he was the one who funded them. Here, he found that the power princes and lords revelled in was nothing more than an illusion ¨C he knew, for he was the one who granted said power to these people. He, the merchant prince, was truest prince the world had ever birthed.¡± Astrael paused and thought for a moment. ¡°Demnir was a kingmaker. He was among those who believe that power has no worth when it is only granted by blood, ancestors, or the favour of another.¡± Rina kept silent, surely pondering on this anecdote''s meaning. How''s that? That''s different from Egael''s mindless romances, don''t you think? But whatever conclusion she might have reached, she didn''t share any of it, or at least not yet. ¡°Was he right to think so?¡± she eventually asked. ¡°Who knows?¡± Astrael smiled, she had to find the answer for herself. ¡°For the record, some people realized how much of a threat he was, and they assassinated him in the end.¡± ¡°Eh, assassinated... Whom by?¡± ¡°The legends vary. Some say his own friends, some say enemies of the countries he backed. Others even mention heroes, so I''d take it with a grain of salt if I were you. Nevertheless, you''ll meet these sorts of people occasionally, those who have neither birth nor blood worth mentioning, but who acquired everything else, be it money, skill, glory... They sometimes decide to take the throne for themselves. A few Vieran city-states are ruled by a council of wealthy merchants, for instance, and I''ve read that the Dominion of the Summer Princes, across the Grey Sea, has a government of lords that are worshipped for their knowledge of magic.¡± He chuckled. ¡°If you believe that kind of stories...¡± ¡°Then, Therenus?¡± Rina asked, and Astrael nodded. ¡°His faction wishes to rule through wealth, connections, and... well, me, I suppose. As a puppet.¡± ¡°No doubt. You can see that''s his way of doing things. He could have become Callir''s regent forty years ago when he led the revolution, but he played it smart and gave the people a sweet illusion by founding a council he could easily rule through his many friendships.¡± He probably didn''t expect Phiramel to rise to his current position, though... I''ve heard that Therenus was the previous high-priest, was he forced to give him the position at some point? Perhaps these old men used to be friends, in the past. Some sort of mentor and disciple relationship... Or perhaps it was simply to maintain appearances, once again, as Therenus would have made himself look wise and benevolent to the eyes of the people by stepping down because of his age and giving the leadership of the church to someone else. ¡°Callir''s nobles are merely the remnants of a time when power was granted by bloodlines and family names...¡± Astrael muttered, earning a glance from Rina. People like Phiramel and Therenus were the ones who came close to Demnir''s kind. Merchant princes, puppeteers and kingmakers. Stained With Blood - Chapter 15 ¡°There''s a price to pay for everything. Even these gods of yours cannot escape such a rule. -???¡± * * * Rina She was fiddling with her fingers, tapping repeatedly on the massive wooden table, and made sure to annoy everyone in the room. ¡°On the first day of the sixth moon, then?¡± Phiramel asked, glancing over the people seated at the table. Elder Therenus nodded. ¡°My men should have everything ready by then. I believe it is a proper date for the consecration.¡± He then questioned Viriane with his eyes. ¡°Yes,¡± the sibyl said, ¡°the stars foretell no trouble.¡± Rina kept tapping her fingers against the table, gazing around the room with bored eyes. Doing her best to appear inattentive and distracted, as if she hand''t noticed what they had just done. They pushed the date, again... ¡°Young mistress?¡± She acted all flustered. ¡°Oh? Eh?¡± She scratched her cheek and gave an awkward nod. The more forced it seemed, the better. ¡°Err... yes, yes! Carry on.¡± Phiramel smiled, waved his hand to a servant who brought him quill and paper, and scribbled something down. Rina suppressed a sigh ¨C Astrael had advised her not to oppose herself to these petty schemes, but it was starting to get on her nerves. Every day, playing dumb when it is so obvious they try really hard to delay my consecration... Sometimes she liked to pretend she really was a princess, and that later on she''d be allowed to do as she pleased. Beheading that lot, or at least banishing them... Such thoughts crossed her mind every now and then, but it was nothing more than a stupid dream to help her go through these final months. A few matters required her approval, and she gave them what they wished as usual. Eventually she grew tired of it and faking wasn''t even necessary anymore. ¡°Are we done here?¡± she said as the meeting came to an end. The high-priest acquiesced and at last she was able to leave to room. These gatherings were even more bothersome than the morals lessons she had when she was younger, but at least it was appropriate for digestion. Her guards followed her in the stairs as she went to her room on the last floor, and before entering she ordered one of her maidservants to prepare a bath so that she could relax before the afternoon mass. The head-churchmen and even her brother had mentioned that the plebs would see Rina as an even more divine figure if she maintained a clean appearance and smelled of roses and whatnot, so that was a boon. Taking baths before public events had become something of an habit. She waited on her bed, listlessly reading a book on Daeli culture, while her maid heated the water. When the girl came to tell her it was ready, Rina dropped the book and undressed before going to the other room and walked down the stone steps of the square shaped bath in the floor. Flowers and all sorts of things she never really bothered to learn about floated on the burning water. It stung where she had bruises, but soon enough the heat dulled all her pain. Rina sat down, her back resting against the stone, and once the servant had left the room, she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander and eventually be filled with thoughts about Leon Feanir. Time passed ¨C she didn''t know how long ¨C and a maid interrupted her. ¡°Young mistress, you need to get ready for the mass,¡± the woman told her. Rina stared at the ceiling for a moment, then got out of the water. Still dizzy from the heat, she let the servants towel her body dry, brush her hair and dress her in the ceremonial attire. They decorated her red robes, her hair and her ears with jewellery made of gold, silver and rubies. An amulet crowned her head and held in place a crimson veil before her face. Her hands were painted red, and so were her lips. The maids knew exactly what to do and in what order, as always, and these were times when she felt like she really was the puppet that the church saw her as. Once the servants were done, they bowed their heads. ¡°You are magnificent, young mistress.¡± ¡°Divine and pure aren''t words worthy of the young mistress.¡± She ignored the flattery ¨C or was it their genuine reaction? She never knew, and never asked. I would never be sure whether or not their answer is a lie, even if I did ask... Rina exited her room and left her floor, four bloodsguards walking at her side, their armour clanging with each step, while she moved almost silently on the stone slabs of the temple. At the bottom of the stairs, the captain of the guard and his squire joined them. She exchanged glances with Astrael, but they did not speak a word. She quite liked this new attire of his, though ¨C a dark red doublet with black leather for the belt and boots, that echoed his raven hair. She faced the knight and greeted him. ¡°Sir Leon.¡± He lowered his head. She said nothing about the fact that he hadn''t been present at the meeting earlier. There was a time when she would have been unable to utter a single word, fearing that her stuttering voice would betray her pounding heart and her flush under the veil... But nowadays, she didn''t really feel that way. She only thought of the knight when she was bathing, or late at night when she couldn''t sleep because she was feeling funny. In the hall, a bunch of priests were collecting donations while Phiramel read out loud passages of Xito''s scriptures. Everyone stopped once they noticed Rina, and the people bent. The high-priest took a solemn tone. ¡°Behold the chosen one, citizens of Callir, servants of Xito. Let us offer our prayers together.¡± Rina kneeled in front of the altar, facing the people, and muttered some prayers, as she always did. Everyone else followed, save for her bodyguards who simply stood on the sides of the hall with pious expressions. Incense filled her nose and the constant murmur of the praying believers was somewhat soothing, she had to admit. After the prayer, they came to her with offerings. The bloodsguard stood close to her, ever since that time when some knave tried to steal her necklace. She had always believed her jewellery was only gilded steel, but it turned out to be pure gold ¨C the thief probably had keen eyes and wouldn''t have risked loosing his hand for a mere gilded necklace. He did lose it in the end, she thought, remembering Phiramel ordering that the man be punished. She felt no pity for the man. Only fools would have dared to offend the church and the hero... That was even truer now that the bloodsguard were wary of the people attending mass. Rare were the gifts here that could really be considered a proof of wealth. The occasional noble or rich patron would bring her fine fabrics and silver, but most people were too poor for that. Instead, they came with food or flowers, and some were clearly desperate in their attempts to please her. She remembered that one boy who unknowingly brought night berries, thinking they were uncommon, valuable fruits because he had seen them being sold by a merchant to a rich man.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. She had eaten some and only learned of the berries'' poisonous properties afterward, but fortunately nothing bad happened to her. I never saw that boy again, though... I sure hope he didn''t eat the berries. In any case, people had stopped offering her poisonous things or trying to steal her jewellery and the mass became a calmer event. Today was no exception. An old man gave her bread and a jug of wine, and spent half a minute with his forehead against the ground, muttering both praises and prayers. ¡°Xito bless you,¡± she said to him, smiling, and the man started to cry silently. Next was a bony woman who probably didn''t eat enough judging by her appearance, but still insisted to give a small bag of rice. ¡°Xito bless you,¡± Rina repeated and accepted the gift reluctantly. She needs it more than I do... Then came a man who offered her a bouquet of flowers. He muttered a prayer, and Rina could guess from his accent that he was a Vieran. Roses, she observed as she reached for the flowers. They always offer roses, with many thorns... She saw something shining in the bouquet, and instead of flowers, it was now a blade she was reaching for. No, it was the blade that reached for her... Before she could even blink, something blocked her view. She was knocked against the altar and fell on the ground. Someone yelled, and people started to scream. Her back was hurting because of the fall, and her elbow too. Chairs clattered, pots broke, she smelled incense all over her clothes. Rina raised her head, glanced around. Saw the people and the priests running in the hall, her knights circling her. Someone grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand. ¡°Follow me, young mistress!¡± She didn''t think twice and obeyed. She glanced back and saw some of her knights fighting off people with swords, while others hacked their weapons at the flower man. Red on his body, flashing steel flowing through the air in curves. Splattering sounds, metallic sounds. Another bloodied figure on the ground ¨C Leon. ¡°What is happening?¡± she asked while her bodyguards hurried her away from the hall, in the temple''s corridors. ¡°Assassins.¡± A familiar voice. Astrael, who was beside her, put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Everything''s fine. They''re taking care of it.¡± ¡°What...¡± She paused and took a second to catch her breath and absorb the information. ¡°What about sir Leon?¡± She felt her heart beating really fast. Was it only just now, or from before? ¡°Is he...¡± ¡°Wounded,¡± said one of her guards. ¡°He took the knife in the leg.¡± Relief filled her heart, though it was short-lived. ¡°But why? Who would do such a thing?¡± She couldn''t understand, or rather, she couldn''t think. Wasn''t she loved? Wasn''t she a hero? No one would benefit from her death, right? Not even the scheming Phiramel and Therenus would come out on top if she were to die. ¡°Foreigners...¡± another knight spat. ¡°The man who attacked you was a Vieran, I heard him.¡± No... She tried to calm herself. It doesn''t make sense... Aren''t the city-states of Viera allied with Callir? ¡°Doesn''t matter for now,¡± Astrael said. ¡°We need to get you to safety. Who knows how many they are.¡± We can''t take the stairs and go to the upper floors, she finally realized. They had gone to the opposite side of the hall because the fight was blocking their path to the stairs. They met some of Rina''s panicking maids in the corridors, and were startled by an inhuman scream coming from the hall. More yelling, and one of her knights went to check on his comrades. Rina wanted to argue, but had mixed feelings. On one hand, she felt more vulnerable with only one bloodsguard at her side, yet at the same time, she felt guilty as she had to stay hidden and couldn''t help anyone. Then what in earth had she been training for? I can fight, can''t I? But she was dragged away, and this time it was Astrael. Yes, she had Astrael. If he thought she shouldn''t go, then she wouldn''t insist. Her brother was wise, and even now ¨C especially now ¨C it was obvious that he was much more collected than her. She couldn''t think straight... Best to not think at all then. They ignored the door leading to the kitchens, and arrived in some sort of storage room. A dead-end? ¡°This way,¡± one of her maids said and motioned for a door to the side that Rina hadn''t noticed. ...Huh? She frowned as she walked toward the door. She heard a thud behind her, and she shivered. Another thud. Did the maid really speak with a Vieran accent just then? Rina turned to glance behind her. She saw the faintest glimmer of metal and as she instinctively raised her arms, she was suddenly pulled backward. She fell on her side and felt a pinch on her forearms. And then she saw her knight laying on the ground, blood gushing from his neck. And the legs of a servant in the corridor, the rest of her body hidden by the wall, but the blood around her hinted at her condition. The others were nowhere to be seen. The only people left with her were Astrael, and the maid with the accent. A dagger in her hand, something dripping from it. She wasn''t one of her servants, and Rina understood what was happening. The hall had merely been a diversion. Her brother slowly stepped away from the maid, standing between them. ¡°Wasn''t much of a bodyguard, this one,¡± the woman said. ¡°You shouldn''t expect too much from the blue-blooded lads,¡± Astrael replied without any emotion in his voice, his back still in front of Rina. He seemed to be looking around, searching for something. Then a wave of pain came from her arms. Blood. She had a deep gash in each of her forearms. Blood everywhere, her blood, flowing quickly, far too quickly, from the cuts. It hurt, it felt like her limbs were burning. Like the blade had touched the bones. She couldn''t formulate a thought anymore. She was dazed, shaking, her sight became blurry and all the could comprehend were the two figures talking before her. That, and the fear of death. ¡°Step aside, boy,¡± the maid said as she slowly approached. ¡°I only need the girl.¡± Astrael did not answer. Rina saw him bend slightly, carefully turning his body sideways. Then the woman moved her arm and steel flashed in the dimly lit room. Astrael stopped the swing by catching her arm, twisted his body in a strange motion and before Rina knew it, her brother and the attacker were on the ground. There was a loud crack, and the woman groaned in pain. Astrael released her floppy arm and, a second after, was trying to choke the maid from behind. ¡°Shh... Here, here, sleep...¡± he whispered. ¡°Don''t fight back... We don''t want you to die, I''m sure you have a captivating story to tell us...¡± For a moment here, Rina couldn''t move. The burning sensation in her arms, the cold sweat on her body, she ignored it as she simply stared at the scene, stunned. Astrael was winning. Yet the assassin managed to turn her body a bit, and grabbed the dagger with her valid arm. Blindly stabbed at Astrael who had to free one of his hands to block the blow ¨C but the blade came down too hard, and he reacted too late. He grunted, and it was enough for the woman to get away from him and catch her breath. She got up and looked at Rina. The assassin was panting loudly, but her cold eyes shined in the dark, hinting at her determination to finish the job despite her injury. Am I going to die? I don''t want to die. I don''t want to die. I don''t want to die. Something moved behind the maid. Something hit her on the head, and she collapsed, revealing Astrael who was holding onto a clay jar of some sort, his usual calm and radiant face now twisted in an expression of anger. He raised the thing and smashed it against the woman''s face. ¡°You...¡± He exhaled deeply, sat over her and raised the jar once more. The maid muttered some incoherent sentence between two gurgles, and tried to reach for her dagger once more. ¡°...stupid...¡± Astrael slammed his pot against her head, and Rina heard something breaking. Astrael raised the jar once more, sticky blood dripping from its bottom. It wasn''t broken. It wasn''t a clay jar, in fact, but one made of stone. He smashed it once more. Squashing noises. ¡°...little...¡± Again, and again, and again. ¡°...piece of shit...¡± He kept hammering her face with the jar, and it scrunched, and squished, and squeezed, and crushed, until there was nothing left to scrunch, squish, squeeze, or crush. ¡°Look... what you''ve made me do...¡± he mumbled between rough breaths. ¡°Hah... Injured by... a bloody amateur...¡± He dropped the jar at last, and some warm liquid was splashed against Rina''s cheek as the thing fell into the reddish-pink pulp that used to be a human head. ¡°What a mess.¡± Astrael let out a sigh and turned to face her. ¡°Are you okay, sweet sister?¡± ¡°...What?¡± Her eyes had gotten used to the obscurity now. He, too, was red ¨C more red than she had ever been despite her crimson robes, and it wasn''t just the fabric of his own clothes. Soaked in blood, from head to toe. ¡°You did not scream,¡± said Astrael who pointed to her arms, and she remembered the pain. It wasn''t as bad as earlier, but it was still here. Everything came to her at once. The throbbing, the never-ending shaking, her clothes wet from blood and sweat, her tears and her gritted teeth. She hadn''t even realized she had been clenching her teeth so hard it felt like they were about to shatter. ¡°I''m proud of you.¡± ¡°It hurts,¡± she muttered. ¡°I...¡± She recoiled when Astrael stepped forward. ¡°It''s okay, Rina,¡± he said with a pained smile. ¡°Don''t worry. Look.¡± She looked, but knew not what to look for. Then, she saw it. The blood wasn''t flowing out of her wounds, it was going in, floating. The cuts were slowly but unmistakeably healing, and the pain was gradually lessening. She was at loss for words and could only gaze blankly at the blood and follow where it came from. The puddle of her own blood she was bathing in, and... She froze. From Astrael''s side. ¡°You''re...¡± She couldn''t finish her sentence, the words were stuck in her throat. He glanced at his wound but said nothing, and simply frowned. From earlier... The most horrible scenarios flashed in her mind, and she wanted to get up, to scream for help, to hold him, to stop the bleeding, to do something, but she couldn''t. ¡°...A scratch.¡± he said softly, passing his hand through the trail of blood floating from his injury to Rina''s cuts. A scratch, she repeated in her head, but no scratch should ever bleed so profusely. As she panicked more and more, the blood came rushing toward her even faster, while Astrael turned pale. Then he fell on the ground. Stained With Blood - Chapter 16 ¡°The gods'' blessings are an enigmatic power bestowed on the champions. Few can pretend to know the secrets of the godly arts, as it is not rare for a hero to fail to entirely discover the extent and nature of his blessing during his lifetime. Some have experimented, some have written down records for the next generations of heroes ¨C but most of that knowledge has been lost throughout the ages, because the people destined to learn it sometimes do not appear for centuries. -Private papers of a nameless churchman¡± * * * ??? Memories of a tired hero. Of an era long forgotten. He pushed wet locks of hair away from his eyes and glanced to the side as he heard a yell. Some desperate survivor rushing toward him with frenzied eyes and a broken spear in his hands. The attacker tripped against one of the corpses laying around, or perhaps it was because of the slippery dirt. Regardless, he collapsed pitifully. The tired hero sighed and slit the madman''s throat before he could get up. Half a minute of gurgles later, all life was gone from the man''s wild eyes. His executioner sighed yet again and grimaced as he tried to take a step forward. He had to support himself with the grip of his sword, the blade buried in the wet ground. His eyes wandered, passing on the endless landscape scattered with body parts, broken wooden machines, dented armours and dead horses. Packs of grim-looking soldiers were roaming these hills filled with death and misery, searching for injured friends to save, fallen comrades to mourn, weapons to loot, or survivors to finish off. He resigned himself to do the same, and began to limp across the battlefield, hoping to find some of his subordinates and whatnot ¨C if he had any left after that carnage. With the sun shining at his back, he could barely see his own blood running down from his leg. It was one of these hot, scorching suns that sometimes occurred after harsh rains. Soon the heat would turn this gruesome graveyard into a nightmare of smells. The weight of his armour was getting more present, more inconvenient with each second passing, now that the adrenaline, the bloodlust, and the battle fever had left him. Left him with only the stench of murder that the rain had failed to wash, and soaked clothes that the sun hadn''t dried yet. Soaked with blood or water, he had no idea, nor did he care. He heard a pained groan and glanced to the side, and saw a familiar figure. ¡°Still alive?¡± the tired hero asked the man in red who was kneeling not far from him, his long, pretty blonde hair dirtied with mud and the liquid life of the many enemies he had surely slain. ¡°You know me,¡± he said, and grunted once more as he observed the sad wreck of a dangling bone that was left of his hand. ¡°I''m hard to kill.¡± Hearing that, he let a bitter chuckle escape. The shattered wrist was slowly mending itself, and from some of the corpses around them, blood ran along the dirt and found its way to the man in red. The cracking sounds of the fingers reforming themselves were somewhat disgusting, and the tired hero looked away from his friend''s hand. He had seen enough blood, flesh and bones for the day. A bunch of riders wearing the heroes'' banners approached. ¡°Sir,¡± said one of the horsemen, a bloodied mace hanging from his belt, the reins of another mount in hand. ¡°Your horse, my lord.¡± It was his horse indeed, and his banner covering it, but something was amiss. ¡°...You''re not my squire,¡± he simply replied, without surprise. The rider''s expression darkened. ¡°My lord, I''m sorry. Pandristel has fallen in battle.¡± He didn''t flinch nor frown. He already expected to hear something of the sort. The battle had been chaotic, their formations had been broken almost as soon as they clashed against the the enemy cavalry. During the crash, Pandristel, who had been at his side for years and years, had fallen from his horse, never to be seen again under the trampling hoofs. ¡°Do you wish to see his remains?¡± He sighed, again. That was too many sighs, even for the aftermath of a battle. ¡°No, bury him with the others,¡± he eventually said before getting on his mount. ¡°I suppose you''ll be my new shield-bearer from now on, what say you?¡± The rider nodded. ¡°As you wish, sir.¡± ¡°Have you seen Haelio?¡± the man in red asked. The horsemen squinted their eyes at him, and it took them a few seconds to realize who they were staring at. ¡°Ah... S-sir Degoxamaton, forgive me! I did not recognize you.¡± It wasn''t surprising, the Blood''s dirty appearance contrasted with the usual radiance and cleanliness he was known for. ¡°H-here, take my horse if you wish.¡± ¡°No need,¡± he said as he shook his head. ¡°Well, Haelio?¡± he insisted, and once more, the riders wore somber looks. ¡°...Reports from one of his knights say that his holiness the Warmth also has departed for the afterworld. Apologies, my lords.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Degoxamaton said in a solemn, but tired voice. ¡°May Viera bless the soul of her chosen.¡± ¡°Viera bless him,¡± the others said together. With Haelio gone, they were the last two heroes of their era. His friend Degoxamaton, and himself. But he already knew, way before then. The Blood would die last. As he had said himself, Degoxamaton was tough bastard. Surviving his spear was hard. Defeating him was even harder. The tired hero knew. He was getting older and slower each time the sun rose in the eastern skies. The stupid injury he had gotten today was evidence enough of his declining skills. The utter chaos of this battle was proof enough of his mind losing its sharpness. A dull blade and a dull mind. And so the tired hero knew ¨C he would be the next one to die. He awoke to the sound of water being poured. His side hurt, and he gradually remembered the reason. Right... I''m not a hero anymore. I''m just... Astrael, free of shackles and worries. His head ached too, though he didn''t know why. He opened his eyes and frowned, blinded by the sunlight coming through the window. Something rustled in the room, and he glanced to the side, only to see a maidservant rush through the door. It wasn''t her who returned shortly thereafter, but Rina. Before the door closed behind his sister, Astrael caught a glimpse of half a dozen armour suits outside. He raised a tired hand and waved. ¡°I''m glad to see you haven''t been assassinated while I was out. Have your would-be protectors finally started to do their job properly?¡± She gave him a sad smile. ¡°They won''t leave me alone for a second, now. The bloodsguard is in a panicked state, jumping at shadows and giving mean glares to anyone barely suspicious.¡± He looked at her for a second. It was all the time he needed to guess that she felt guilty about something. Leon''s injury, perhaps, though he had no idea how severe it was. The knight and the maid who died in the storage room, most definitely. ¡°How are things?¡± he asked. She glanced at the window and closed the transparent silk curtains. That was when he realized he wasn''t in his usual room, as it shouldn''t have any curtains ¨C only wooden panels. ¡°Where are we? And how long did I sleep?¡± He had a feeling he had been unconscious much longer than he should have been because of the blood loss.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°A whole day.¡± She grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed. ¡°You hit your head when you fell. I asked that they give you a room on the last floor, not far from mine. This place here would be your new chambers from now on.¡± ¡°Much appreciated,¡± he said, nodding, and touched the side of his skull, where it hurt. Moved a hand to his side, felt his wound, and knew it wasn''t too much of an issue. It was a scratch, he always knew it, and the fact that he almost bled to death had more to do with his sister than the injury itself. Astrael observed the room more carefully. It wasn''t as spacious as Rina''s, but it was still better than his old one ¨C not that he had been spending a lot of time in his previous chambers, as he was often at the Feanir estate and would spend many nights there. ¡°So... How are things, you ask...¡± she said as if she didn''t really know where to begin. No, that''s not what I want to know. ¡°How are you?¡± he asked his sister. She had gone through a lot, and it showed on her expression. ¡°Should we talk?¡± She shrugged. ¡°What is there to talk about? There was an assassination attempt and...¡± she paused, looked down, and when she finally raised her eyes, took a determined tone. ¡°And even though there was casualties, we won. Or at least, we didn''t lose.¡± Good answer. She looked surprisingly collected now that things seemed to have cooled down. Entirely different from the crying girl curled up in a dark corner of the storage room. Astrael tried to sit on his bed, and Rina fetched the cup of water he heard the maid pouring earlier. Still, she may have said that, but he knew there was something she wanted to talk about. He waited for her to inquire, and she was quick to do so. ¡°I''ve been asking Phiramel about... the blood.¡± He drank all the water in one go. ¡°And?¡± he asked with genuine curiosity, wondering what conclusions she had reached. ¡°And I haven''t the slightest clue about what it is. Phiramel only said I was meant to learn about it at my consecration, and that I shouldn''t speak about it to anyone.¡± ¡°And yet here we are, speaking about it,¡± he mocked. ¡°How disobedient of you.¡± But Rina didn''t find any of it amusing, and gave him a disapproving frown. ¡°You knew, didn''t you?¡± She stared at him, as if she was trying to see through his skull, and he stared back, his mind free of any worry. He already had a lie ready for an occasion such as this. ¡°Indeed. I read about it in books, but I wasn''t sure what to make of it at the time. Though I understood when I saw you... bleeding back.¡± ¡°Is this the blessing of Xito? Why did I-¡± ¡°Why did you drain my blood, what does it mean, how does it work... Is that what you want to ask?¡± She nodded. ¡°I''ll explain what I know later. For now, can you tell me what happened after I fell unconscious?¡± ¡°The bloodsguard came to my rescue ¨C a bit late, obviously ¨C and they led a hunt in the temple for possible accomplices that could still be hiding. None were found, but there''s tension with the Vierans, to say the least.¡± ¡°Of course there is. Twas a Vieran who started this bloody show.¡± With these words, they both fell into a short silence. No doubt Rina was trying to piece together the truth behind the attack. ¡°There are people pointing fingers toward elder Therenus because of his foreign connections,¡± she said at last. ¡°Do you think it''s possible he had something to do with it?¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± Astrael objected. ¡°You''re far more useful to him alive.¡± He rubbed his temples and put order in his thoughts. ¡°...At first I believed it was Phiramel, trying to frame Therenus by getting Vierans to commit a fake attempt on your life, but...¡± ¡°But?¡± ¡°But that''s not it either. In the storage room, it was clear that there was nothing fake about the assassins, that they were trying their very best to see you very dead. And I doubt Phiramel would have taken such a risk, as he''d lose everything if you were to be killed under his watch.¡± ¡°Because he has the people''s support as long as he has mine,¡± Rina realized. ¡°Which is supposed to be Therenus'' domain.¡± Astrael nodded. ¡°So long as you''re alive and in a good relationship with Phiramel, he''ll have the means to challenge the elder for the plebs'' backing. There''s no way he would risk harming you, he is smarter than that. It is the same for Therenus too. I don''t think anyone in Callir would have done it, in fact, for you''re useful to everyone, and it is unlikely anyone here would gain anything from your death.¡± ¡°You thought of all that at the time?¡± she asked with somewhat incredulous eyes. He raised a brow and shrugged. If I don''t think about these things, nobody here will, apparently... ¡°Anyhow, I see two possibilities now. Either the assassins were a group of rogues and murderers who just happened to be Vierans with a dislike for the blood church... or they were hired by someone who wants everybody to believe that. Am I mistaken in assuming that Therenus and his good friend lord Elric Danalion are in a rather pronounced state of distress right now?¡± Rina swallowed loudly. ¡°Err... You''re right. This is the wrong place and time to be friends with Vierans. The elder withdrew his foreign slaves from the temple and even master Odel looks nervous.¡± It''s already that bad even though only one day passed, and it will only get worse in the long term. Astrael already knew that soon enough, the Danalion house would be faced with two choices ¨C to cease all trade and activities with the city-states of Viera, or to be antagonised by angry citizens and rival factions taking advantage of the situation... ¡°It doesn''t matter why the assassins came...¡± he muttered. ¡°Whoever is the enemy, we can''t do anything as long as we know nothing about it... We do have enemies we know much about, however, and if we want to strike them decisively, now''s as good a time as any. It is a drastic change of plans, and it may be perilous to act so rashly, but I doubt a similar opportunity will ever present itself again in the future.¡± Rina pinched her lips quizzically. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He ignored her for the time, and fell deep in thought. He had all the tools at his disposal, but who? Who should he be striking down? Therenus was old, with perhaps half a decade left to live at most, and his faction was on the brink of destruction. A slight push would be enough to get rid of him and his supporters. With his age, it wasn''t far-fetched to think that time alone would be enough to see him fall, and it would surely be hard for a successor to immediately restore his faction''s influence. Perhaps it would be wise to get rid of the powerful Phiramel now, since the elder wasn''t much of a threat anymore. Yet Astrael''s friendship with the Feanir brothers was putting him in a safe position from where he could have a clear sight of the faction''s goals, and either lend a hand or thwart their plans, should he want to do one or the other. With the elder out of the picture, Phiramel''s increasing control over Callir would be unavoidable but it could be swiftly dealt with by meddling with the affairs of house Feanir... However he had no similar safety net with Therenus and house Danalion, should they get back on their feet once their rivals were gone. ¡°Either way I face an issue, and I can''t decide lightly.¡± ¡°Would you care to explain?¡± Rina said in an annoyed tone. ¡°Hm.¡± He looked straight in her eyes, and took a very low voice. ¡°Who do you think is the most dangerous, Therenus or Phiramel?¡± She thought for a bit and answered with the same discretion, probably aware that they were about to have a conversation that they wouldn''t want anyone to listen in. ¡°Sir Leon told me once that a desperate and cornered beast is more dangerous than anything else. That it is the one thing he is scared of when he''s in the forest, hunting with his family.¡± ¡°...Therenus, then.¡± ¡°The way I see it, he''s loosing every bit of influence he had over the people because of his ties with lord Danalion and the Vieran cities. I''ve heard that his friends are turncoats and that his nights are tormented and sleepless. Who knows what he could do, trying to stop his life''s work from collapsing right in front of him.¡± ¡°Yes, yes, indeed...¡± Astrael rubbed his chin and realized he was grinning. I''ll cause the elder''s downfall... Bitter and biased as he is, he''ll see Phiramel as the man behind the one last push that sent him toward hell and disgrace. Better yet, if I can get Phiramel to give the finishing blow himself... In everyone''s eyes, these two old bastards will be mutually destroying themselves, a natural development after decades of being at each other''s throat. If it works... ¡°Yet another gamble,¡± he concluded enigmatically. Rina grimaced in frustration but kept silent, perhaps understanding she wouldn''t have a clear answer while her brother was still pondering on the matter. His decision was almost made anyway. Taking either one of the churchmen would require Rina''s assistance and cooperation. She was clearly more wary of Therenus than she was of Phiramel, and perhaps she would refuse to help him if it was about crushing the high-priest''s faction, and Leon Feanir with it. ¡°Therenus it is.¡± He exhaled deeply and made up his mind. ¡°Beloved sister, I have many things to confess. I''ve been somewhat dishonest and I''ve left you in the dark about some important matters. Today is the day I reveal all of it to you, as I need your help. I''ll tell you about all sorts of plots and schemes I''ve conceived and sometimes abandoned, I''ll tell you about your godly blessing, and what it entails, and I''ll tell you how I''m about to take the definite first step toward my initial goal ¨C to put you in charge of the church, and the whole city while we''re at it. Because that''s the most freedom you can hope to achieve while you bear that mark. Do you understand what I''m saying?¡± Her half-confused frown was quickly followed by a face betraying her frenzied, hurried thoughts. Then, eventually, she nodded. He sighed in relief, guiltless despite his intention to keep his past life, his biggest secret, what it should be ¨C a secret. ¡°But first, sweet sister, I need you to do something for me. It is dangerous, but my plan cannot work without it, so I''ll tell you about that before we begin. Now, do you trust me?¡± ¡°Did you ever give me a reason not to?¡± My poor girl, you have no idea... ¡°There''s a couple of things I need to prepare, and then...¡± He gave her his best smile. ¡°You''ll have to drink a very large amount of poison during supper, and as far as everyone''s concerned, be the target of another assassination attempt.¡± Stained With Blood - Chapter 17 ¡°Kings, and lords, and even heroes, they come and go. You wave your banners and tell the plebs that goodness and virtue will prevail... But you know nothing of the world. I''ll tell you the truth. Overthrow a tyrant and another one will take his place. It is the natural order of things, strong leaders are meant to rule ¨C and it is what the people want, what they crave for, despite all the fuss. Don''t you understand? Even the gods mock your petty revolutions! Get on with it then, kill me, and just wait. You''ll see. -the last king of Callir, alleged final words¡± * * * Therenus A knock on the door, followed by one of his attendants'' voice. ¡°Elder, it is time.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he mumbled, ¡°yes.¡± He donned his red robes and opened the door. He felt his brows knitting together despite his attempts to keep a collected appearance. The doorman noticed that too and gave an apologetic smile. That annoyed Therenus even more. Everyone was mocking him. Even the chosen. Summoned! She summoned me! How humiliating, to fall so low that this little girl would dare to look down on him. No, perhaps it was Phiramel''s doing, after all. I already know where this is going... A servant offered to lend his arm and help him walk, but Therenus shrugged him off. ¡°I can walk by myself just fine, lad,¡± he said more harshly than he meant to. To the side, standing against the wall in his usual arrogant demeanour, was Odel the fencing master, in a staring contest with Petrus, a bloodsguard. Odel was perhaps one of the rare Vierans who hadn''t deserted the temple three days ago, but no doubt it was thank to the numerous silver coins Therenus was paying him. They were friends, of course, but had it been Therenus in his shoes, he''d have expected compensation to stay in such a unfriendly place. He wasn''t sure that the foreign swordsman would protect him if things got really dangerous ¨C but whatever Odel decided to do, Therenus wouldn''t blame him¨C nor could he count on the bloodsguard anymore. They had left Therenus with only one knight to protect him, and even if Petrus was a distant relative of house Danalion, he couldn''t possibly be trusted. Their allies had been quick to flee, and even switch sides, when they smelled all the nasty developments coming this way. Petrus bowed, but Odel barely gave a nod as a greeting. ¡°Everything''s ready, elder,¡± said the Vieran. Therenus stared at them both for a short moment, and grunted. ¡°Let''s go, then.¡± They walked took the stairs and the endless corridors of the temple, following the elder''s pace, but by the time they had reached the council room, he was already out of breath. Petrus knocked on the door, which opened a few seconds after. Therenus frowned yet again as soon as he glimpsed inside the room. First of all, it was that damn Feanir cutthroat who had opened the door ¨C Bert or whatever was his name. Then, the bloodsguard. They were all here, and fully armed. Oh, dear. He scoffed. If this isn''t an attempt to intimidate me, then I don''t know what it is. ¡°Elder,¡± Phiramel called out, standing behind the young mistress who was sitting at the end of the large table. Flanked by her knights. The high-priest apparently caught on Therenus'' nervousness, and gave a faint chuckle. ¡°Pardon this display of steel, elder. But you understand we are very cautious about the young mistress'' safety, these days, I imagine?¡± ¡°Why, of course,¡± Therenus replied with a grand smile. On one side of the table were seated prominent church members. Viriane and a few other priests and priestess. Facing them were a few Callirian nobles. Lord Laurentias Feanir was sitting not far from the young mistress, his son Leon by her side, with a wooden clutch to support himself, and a slightly uncomfortable expression that betrayed the pain he felt from his wound. Therenus barely gave a glance to Elric Danalion at the other end of the table. He was shamefully staring at his feet, and the elder immediately knew that they would have no trouble using the lord''s fear to get what they wanted from him. ¡°Apologies for calling you here,¡± Rina said as she motioned for him to sit next to lord Danalion. ¡°I know it is rude, what with your age and all that, but there are important matters to be discussed.¡± Mocking me again. He sat down, glancing behind to make sure Odel and Petrus weren''t too far, and eventually gave another smile. ¡°No need to apologise, young mistress. I understand why you called this meeting.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± she asked innocently. ¡°That''s a relief. If the church stands united, it shall overcome this chapter of turmoil.¡± Grand words from such a mindless girl. But Therenus didn''t blame her, she had been dragged into this mess regardless of her wishes, acting her role as best as she could in a time of crisis. ¡°Shall we begin?¡± Phiramel said as he finally sat. ¡°As you know, there is tension within the church, and, must I say, within all of the city-state. We managed to capture two of the attackers in the hall, and though they didn''t appear to know much even after... questioning... it is clear that the cities of Viera had a hand in it.¡± The elder sighed. ¡°Spare us the lengthy exposition, Phiramel, will you? You want us to break our ties with the Vierans, I gather.¡± ¡°That is indeed the point of this meeting,¡± Rina said, nodding. ¡°This is for your own good, elder. House Danalion is already under pressure from the rest of the nobility to do so. The citizens will find ways to show their displeasure, one way or another. If anyone here knows what the angry people is capable of, it is you indeed, wouldn''t you agree?¡± A subtle way of reminding me that after helping me to remove the king''s head forty years ago, they now want to remove mine. But things were different nowadays. Contrarily to what happened with the last monarch, right now the citizens'' anger wasn''t exactly justified. Therenus glanced at Elric, but it seemed the man himself wouldn''t even dare to defend his own interests. ¡°Young mistress, I know this is an unpopular opinion right now, but...¡± Therenus paused and frowned as he saw Phiramel snicker silently. ¡°Our trade with cities such as Ocia or Sar has brought back what had been lost through decades of incompetent rule ¨C prosperity. The Callirians were more than happy to see the sails of our ships returning via the river, knowing they were loaded with all sorts of food, gifts, and-¡± ¡°Assassins,¡± Leon Feanir interrupted. ¡°Your cursed ships also brought assassins. Or have you forgotten already?¡± The elder glared at Leon, but said no word that could worsen his current situation. Know your place, kid. Wherever assassins come from, it is your duty to deal with it. Instead you bloody brats get stabbed in the leg like farm-boys, or even killed by a woman. Viriane cleared her throat. ¡°The point is, elder, that whether or not the people were thankful for your commerce with foreigners, they surely aren''t at the moment.¡± Therenus tried his best not to show it, but he was baffled. It was rare for the sibyl to give her input in non-religious matters. Rarer still for her not to mention the gods or her divination when she was arguing about something. I see you too have chosen your side, he concluded bitterly. Someone knocked on the door, and Therenus found himself clenching the armrest with his fingers. Startled by a damn door. He glanced at the tardy newcomer ¨C Rina''s brother. Or was it Leon''s squire, nowadays? A lackey of Phiramel and the Feanir house, that at least he was sure of. Therenus wondered for a second if the kid would also add some reproach on top of the pile everyone had put together... But he simply walked across the room and gave a nod to his sister as if he meant for them not to let him interrupt the meeting. ¡°Well,¡± the young mistress said, putting both her hands against the table. ¡°There''s no need for this council to be so tense. We are all friends here, after all.¡± She glanced over the people present in the room with eyes that were somewhat unbefitting of her usual self. Therenus'' instincts told him something was amiss, but he played along nonetheless. ¡°Indeed. I don''t see why anyone would think otherwise.¡± He sighed. ¡°Very well... I won''t let the Vierans get in the way of our friendship.¡± He meant it as a way to acknowledge her request and her victory, but hearing that, Rina''s stare intensified rather than softening. Perhaps she felt insulted because she expected him to admit his defeat explicitly.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Good. And what would friends do, in such a situation?¡± At last, she swapped her judging stare for a bright smile. ¡°They toast and drink. Elder, would you be so kind as to fetch that jug of wine over here, and a couple of cups while you''re at it? Let us toast to our friendship, and renew our vows of unity.¡± He gritted his teeth but knew he had to bear the humiliation. He had no choice, because the mere hint of uncooperativeness could serve as a pretext for these wolves to destroy him. The worst of it was that they were using the young mistress to taunt him. Therenus guessed that Phiramel was the one who put her up to it ¨C only that wicked man would come up with such ways to shame his rival. He neared the sideboard and brought a tray with silver cups on it. He walked slowly, hearing the cups shaking and banging against each other in the most atrocious silence, as everyone either watched him or found a sudden, deep interest in the ceiling''s cracks. Once he had placed the tray on the table, he went back and grabbed the jug of wine. Rina observed him all along, and when he paused after putting the jug on the table, she gave another smile, a forced one. Therenus understood, and cursed silently as he poured wine in the cups and went around the table to give one to the young mistress. Another one for Phiramel, one for lord Feanir, then for lord Danalion, and finally one for himself. They raised their cups and drank. Therenus managed to calm his clenched hands as he wordlessly sipped the wine. I can always get everything back, he told himself. I''ve acquired the city once, I can do it again. The people love me, they just got tricked by misguided hatred and anger. Phiramel''s wine was apparently not nearly enough to wash away the smirk he was wearing. I''ll tear it off your face soon enough. Laurentias drank it all in one go, while Elric took shy, timid sips from his cup. How pathetic it was, for this usually proud and imposing man, to be reduced to such a sad position. And Therenus was no better right now. The young mistress gazed at her wine for a moment, eyes lost in the blood-coloured liquid, and eventually took a big gulp. Therenus sunk into his chair, elbow on the armrest and jaw resting against his fist, while his other hand played with the cup. I have friends in Tehen and Ebion, they can help me... He glanced at lord Danalion, but if the man had no intention to save himself, Therenus wouldn''t bother to do it either. The elder would have enough trouble restoring his own honour, even though he was the symbol of freedom and whatnot. At this point, being friends with the disgraced nobility would be too much of a burden. His eyes fell into his empty drink. A few red droplets swirled and glided along the silver cup as he made it swing between his fingers. The issue is that Ebion and Tehen are allies with the Summer Princes... They weren''t kings per-se, but princes were princes. It wouldn''t sit well with the Callirians if I was to seek help from monarchists and whatnot... He had a crazy idea about giving rise to a revolution or two, and spread his name once more. I already overthrew a king, I could surely do it again... Then the Callirians would accept me and praise me just like they used to do. But grim logic followed immediately. Therenus wouldn''t have enough time for that. He knew that he hadn''t much left to live. Travelling was something he hadn''t considered in years, and for a good reason. He''d probably die of old age, before he could achieve a single spark of political unrest, if he somehow survived the ships and the travels. And regardless, too little was known about the Dominion of the Summer Princes. If the people there really believed in witchcraft and sorcery, there was no guarantee they had enough common sense to take part in revolutionary ventures... ¡°Is something wrong?¡± a voice broke out in the silence and Therenus snapped out of his thoughts. Everyone was looking in the same direction ¨C the young mistress. She was breathing heavily, her hands trembling, the muscles of her neck twitching. ¡°I-...I''m fine...¡± she muttered, and reached for her cup of wine. As she bent forward, she fell from her chair. ¡°Young mistress!¡± People got to their feet, while some stayed on their chair, looks of confusion on their faces. But Therenus knew what was happening. There was no way the assassins would have given up after only one attempt. ¡°Call the doctors!¡± someone yelled. The elder got up from his seat, too, and slowly walked around the table. Astrael neared his sister, and pushed away a panicked Leon Feanir and a couple of priests and servants. ¡°Move,¡± he commanded before kneeling next to her. Leon apparently got his act together and also ordered that everyone made room for the brother. Rina was whimpering and shivering, and her hazy eyes glancing around were the only thing hinting at her lucidity. After a moment, Astrael voiced the dreaded conclusion. ¡°It''s poisoning. Strychnine seeds, I''d say.¡± He motioned for a servant to come and help while he gave her instructions. ¡°She''ll survive,¡± he eventually said. ¡°I think the amount wasn''t enough to be lethal.¡± How would you know? Therenus meant to ask. Are you a doctor or something? ¡°Don''t simply stand here!¡± Leon Feanir bellowed to the others. ¡°Search the temple for the culprit!¡± The elder looked around the room, and his gaze stopped on the young mistress'' cup. Then, he saw Phiramel, not far from the table. He slowly approached the cup, studied it, lifted his stare and faced Therenus. Their eyes met, and they observed each other for what felt like a minute but probably was a mere second ¨C and Therenus knew what the high-priest was thinking. But before the elder could do anything, Phiramel pointed a mean finger and a hateful glare toward him. ¡°There''s no need to search the whole temple,¡± he muttered. ¡°The man who served the wine and gave the young mistress her cup is still in the room...¡± Leon Feanir pierced Therenus with mad eyes, and soon enough everyone looked at him with a suspicious expression. Even Elric Danalion. He had to do something, anything. ¡°I can''t believe it... Isn''t that a bit too convenient? I was the last to arrive, almost anyone here could have put poison in the young mistress'' cup before I came.¡± Leon scoffed. ¡°And how would it be possible to know beforehand which cup the young mistress would be drinking from?¡± ¡°In the first place, why are we assuming we would have had wine no matter what?¡± lord Feanir pitched in. ¡°This,¡± he pointed to the cup, ¡°isn''t something one could do with mere planning, unless there was a way to predict the young mistress would want to drink.¡± The lord''s accusatory tone was enough to let Therenus know he was his target. ¡°That''s it,¡± Phiramel said, fists against the table. ¡°I know you better than anyone else, elder. I thought you gave up way too easily on your precious ties with the cities of Viera.¡± He looked over the people present in the room. ¡°Isn''t it strange, when you think about it? Why would you give up without a fight?¡± ¡°This is insane,¡± the elder muttered. He was about to turn around and get out, but that mercenary with greasy hair blocked his way. ¡°Step aside, you Feanir dog,¡± Therenus snapped. Bert put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°M''afraid I can''t do that,¡± he slurred in an almost sorry tone. Odel gripped the guard of his sword, but was obviously hesitant to act. Petrus wasn''t even near them, and he looked to nervous to be of any use. ¡°What I think, elder,¡± Phiramel kept on while Therenus still had his back to him, ¡°is that you brought poison with you and saw the cups and the wine when you entered the room. Perhaps you thought that the young mistress would want to celebrate an easy victory. Perhaps you thought you could take advantage of her noble desire to unite the church.¡± ¡°How cruel,¡± he heard someone whisper. ¡°And so you gave her what she wanted and didn''t even protest when asked to pour her wine.¡± Phiramel snorted. ¡°You didn''t hesitate to drink wine yourself since you knew that only the hero would be poisoned. My guess would be that she only survived because in your anxiety and hurry, you misjudged the amount of poison you put in her wine.¡± ¡°Men,¡± Leon said to the bloodsguard, ¡°On behalf of the church, I order you to arrest elder Therenus.¡± Phiramel rubbed his chin and frowned. ¡°Now, I wonder if you had anything to do with the first assassination attempt. Perhaps you thought you had to take matters in your own hands after the first failure...¡± The knights exchanged glances and hesitantly approached. The elder clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails bit into his flesh. ¡°Absurd,¡± he mumbled, before raising his voice. ¡°...I have never heard an accusation so twisted and convoluted before. Are you all such a bunch of idiots that you allow this man''s venomous tongue to fool you? Can''t you see that I''m being framed? Why in earth could I possibly wish to harm the chosen! I freed Callir from a tyrant, I brought happiness to the poor, and now you think I would collude with foreigners to assassinate a saviour sent by Xito! H-have...¡± he stuttered, ¡°have you all lost your bloody mind!?¡± ¡°Please calm down, elder,¡± Laurentias Feanir said in a low, collected voice, that contrasted with Therenus'' increasing panic and anger. He himself was aware that this was unbecoming of him. These last few days had strained him so much that he wasn''t able to keep his composure in this dangerous situation. The lord turned his head and faced Rina''s brother. ¡°Astrael, you are knowledgable about poisons. What do you think? Do you believe the elder could have done it?¡± What? Why are you asking the brat for evidence? ¡°It is difficult to say,¡± Astrael said after a while, staring at Therenus with cold eyes. ¡°You can search him, but he probably won''t have anything left on him. Perhaps you''d find it wise to look in his chambers for strychnine seeds or powder made from it... And anything that could be used to prepare such a poisonous substance, really.¡± Leon stepped forward. ¡°You heard him, go inspect the his private apartments. Meanwhile, we''ll make sure elder Therenus doesn''t leave the room.¡± A handful of knights hurriedly obeyed the captain''s command and went to the last floor. Fools, Therenus thought, fools. What are they expecting to find? Then the realisation hit him, like a stone thrown from a catapult. He closed his eyes and swallowed his saliva. They would most definitely find something. Phiramel wanted his head, that much was obvious. He would have made sure that there was something to find. That fucking mongrel. Therenus opened his eyes, only to cast the single most hateful glare he had ever given, toward Phiramel. It didn''t take long for the knights to come back with the evidence. They had found strychnine seeds, but also nightshade, hemlock, and all sorts of venoms. To hint as his alleged determination to have the young mistress killed, surely. As if one type of poison wasn''t enough... Therenus knew that Phiramel had never been so pleased, even though the high-priest hid his enjoyment behind a mask of sadness and anger. ¡°You filthy criminal, how low have you fallen?¡± Phiramel growled. ¡°Lock him up. Watch the door, and make sure nobody approaches his room without my consent. We shall hold a trial tomorrow in the main plaza.¡± A trial... You mean a public humiliation. It would be a joke, but it was a trial nonetheless. Phiramel had to maintain appearances, and he was probably already gloating at the idea of sentencing Therenus to exile or death, but... The elder would have the opportunity to speak, too. Bert and a couple of knights stepped forward, surrounding him and dragging him by the arms. Odel, who had been silent and discreet all along, gave Therenus a sorry glance, and probably made the wisest decision in his life by moving aside and keeping his mouth shut. The Vieran was more or less respected, being one of the young mistress'' teachers, and he would probably be allowed to return to his country if he didn''t make a fuss. Regardless, Therenus couldn''t afford to care for others anymore, so if Odel somehow still got into trouble, there was nothing else to be done. They made him climb down a few flights of stairs, pushing him when he wasn''t fast enough. But he endured it. They brought him in some cold, dark room with a pitiful bed, where he was sure to sleep uncomfortably even though he needed a clear mind to prepare for the trial. Still, he would endure it. Phiramel had played his hand. And now Therenus had only one night to prepare his, but it would be enough. He knew all there was to know about the high-priest''s faction, and since there was little hope left to escape whatever sentence Phiramel would decide on, all that remained was to fight until the end. I will see to it that you don''t come out of this unscathed. Stained With Blood - Chapter 18 ¡°It is said that the first blacksmith was a chosen of Sazin ¨C or perhaps it was Sazin himself. People like to tell children about the first sword ever forged, and how it was wielded by the hero against demons and all sorts of nightmare, fighting off dark forces with mystical power when all of humanity''s knowledge about warfare consisted of swinging their fists and throwing sticks. The art of Magesmithing, if it ever existed, has been lost throughout the ages, and in their attempts to resurrect this primal magic, Sazin''s servants kept developing their craft and honing their skills, laying the foundations of our modern weaponry. -Tarhas, History of the Known World¡± * * * Astrael ¡°Remind me why I''m here.¡± For a moment, all Astrael got for an answer was the sound of the whetstone sharpening the blade. Bert had been at it for some time now, as if he wanted his sword to be able to cut through steel and rock. Sitting on his small chair, obsessively caring for the edge of his weapon, working with the poor light of the two torches on the walls. ¡°Because,¡± Leon finally said, ¡°you''re my squire.¡± Bert and Leon had the only two chairs, and so Astrael moved a wooden crate and sat on top of it while they waited. ¡°I don''t believe anyone would bother freeing him,¡± Leon kept on. ¡°But we better be careful. It can''t hurt to stand watch just this one time, anyway.¡± Astrael glanced behind, to the door of Therenus'' cell. It wasn''t exactly a cell ¨C just a room ¨C and that was probably the reason why Phiramel had ordered that Leon and Bert guarded it. A mere room... Astrael frowned. If he wanted to avoid any risk of him escaping, he''d have put Therenus in a cell and have it heavily guarded. Is he trying to bait possibles allies of the elder that we don''t know about? Someone the high-priest believed could get past guards and jailers, anyhow. Perhaps he was simply being careful, putting men he could trust in front of the door, men that wouldn''t be bought. With Laurentias Feanir as his employer, Bert''s handsome pay can hardly be beaten, and Leon fancies himself a honourable knight. What about me then? I''m neither handsomely paid, nor honourable. ¡°I am indeed one of your squires,¡± he finally replied.¡°Have you perchance heard inept rumours that may have helped you decide to call me here tonight, when I''d rather watch over my sister?¡± ¡°I do know that you can hold your own in a fight. I trained you, and everyone knows you... neutralised... one of the young mistress'' would-be assassins with your bare hands.¡± ¡°You flatter me. I used a stone pot.¡± ¡°I don''t do flattery,¡± Leon said sharply. ¡°His excellency asked us because he trusts us, and I in turn asked you because I trust you.¡± ¡°And because you can''t fight anymore.¡± Seeing Leon''s unamused face, Astrael sighed. ¡°Is losing your sense of humour also a consequence of being stabbed in the leg, dear friend? You''ll heal, won''t you?¡± Leon kept silent and simply held onto his wooden clutch. If you''re not going to fight, at least give me your armour or something. Since the conversation had ended, he had better mimic Bert and make sure his weaponry was ready. Though he guessed that whoever Phiramel feared would try to free the elder, they wouldn''t come accompanied. Or else they''d be more than the three of them here to watch the prisoner. Therenus shouldn''t have many allies who remained faithful to him. I wonder if he actually has any left. Astrael inspected his crossbow, and choose his ammunition from his deadliest bolts. He put the cranequin in place and stretched the string. ¡°You''re going to use that?¡± Leon inquired with apparent genuineness, to which Astrael answered with a stunned expression. ¡°Why, of course. Or do you expect me to swing a bloody sword in this corridor?¡± It was large enough for four or five men to stand side by side, but still too narrow and limiting for proper swordplay. Leon glanced at the sword-sharpening Bert, who showed off his throwing knives and gave a grunt that sounded like a chuckle and a groan at the same time. ¡°I''d personally expect you to use stones and whatnot, crush and flatten some skulls, all these things,¡± the merc said with knowing smiling eyes. ¡°Funny trend you''re developing here, innit?¡± Footsteps in the corridor interrupted whatever prospects of banter they had. ¡°There we go,¡± Leon muttered as he got to his feet and gripped the handle of his sword. The face that emerged from the shadows wasn''t one Astrael had been expecting. ¡°Master Odel,¡± he greeted. The Vieran was in leather attire, rapier in hand, an odd look of determination on his usually mocking and arrogant face. ¡°Peculiar jailers,¡± he simply stated. ¡°Why are you here? Shouldn''t you have left Callir by now?¡± Astrael wondered as he raised his crossbow and aimed for the man. ¡°...Or maybe you hope he''ll make you rich if you manage to free him.¡± Odel stared at them for a moment, and shrugged. ¡°I suppose it is too much to ask that you three look the other way?¡± His request was met with wary silence and so he scoffed. ¡°Think what you want, but I believe the elder to be innocent.¡± Leon was probably about to retort something angry, but Bert spoke first. ¡°Oh, I don''t particularly think he did it either. This here is my job though,¡± he said, pointing a thumb to the door behind him, ¡°and I honestly don''t care much for politics and all that.¡± ¡°Don''t you want to do the right thing for once?¡± the Vieran suggested with a smile. ¡°You must be tired of doing all the beating, and killing, and dirty deeds of men you don''t even believe in. I know, I''ve done it too during my travels.¡± Astrael listened carefully, hiding his bemused expression as best as he could. Bert seemed equally amused. ¡°As dirty these deeds may be, they put food on the table, lad ¨C much more than food alright, the Feanir house pays well. Does doing the ''right thing'' get me anything, aside from the thanks of some disgraced three-hundred years-old gramps?¡± Odel ignored the taunt and didn''t give up on persuading them. ¡°Aye, you won''t get paid in silver. I''ll not get paid for what I''m doing either. Elder Therenus may be rich, but I doubt we''ll have the time to bring his money with us as we escape.¡± He paused, glanced at Leon, and sighed. ¡°But honour and morals. These are more important than coins to me.¡± ¡°You talk about honour and freeing a man accused of the worst crimes...¡± Leon Feanir drew his sword, and let go of his clutch. ¡°We''ve had our issues. I respect you despite everything, as a fellow swordsman, and as a fellow man of honour. But take one more step and you''ll be dying for the wrong cause.¡± ¡°Hrrm, I agree,¡± Astrael pitched in. ¡°Out of consideration for my sister who looks up to you, her fencing master, I''ll close my eyes if you just walk away and leave the city. We''ll not say a thing to his excellency Phiramel.¡± ¡°Phiramel, Phiramel. Look at you,¡± he said in a suddenly bitter tone. ¡°Even the young mistress'' brother, yapping and barking. Like dogs thinking they own the world now that their boss has gotten rid of his rival.¡± Bert got up and stretched his fingers. ¡°And is your own boss so important that you''re prepared to be killed trying to free him?¡± ¡°Hah!¡± Odel pointed his rapier toward Bert. ¡°I''m the best swordsman this cursed city has ever seen. You guys are... an old man, a brat, and a cripple. Don''t make me laugh, and let me pass.¡± He took a step forward, and immediately staggered. Fell against the wall, then the ground. One wide opened eye full of surprise, the other pierced by a throwing knife. Blood flowing from his eye-socket, running along his cheek, dripping from his ear, only to become a puddle of black liquid around his head on the stone slabs. Odel''s convulsing hand wouldn''t let go of the rapier, and the three of them watched silently as he let out faint groans and gurgles.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. When it stopped, Bert crouched near him, took his knife back, and cleaned it. ¡°You... Why-...¡± Leon shook his head and exhaled deeply. ¡°Why did you do that?¡± ¡°What?¡± Bert said nonchalantly as he turned to the knight. ¡°If he really was the best swordsman or whatever, only a fool would let him show his skill. Or do you perhaps have a death wish, sir Leon?¡± The bloodsguard clicked his tongue and sat back on his chair. ¡°Astrael, go call a servant or something. We need to inform his excellency.¡± Astrael nodded and strode over Odel''s corpse. ¡°It''s a shame,¡± he muttered. Rina will probably be sad. The rest of the night passed without any issue. In the morning, before the trial, Astrael went upstairs to check on Rina''s condition. Horace had taught him that patients exposed to strychnine poisoning required a lot of rest in a dark and silent room, and it seemed the temple''s doctors shared that opinion. She still had seizures and convulsions, as well as trouble breathing, but she would make it through. The amount she had put in her cup of wine was more than what was required to kill an adult, but thanks to her body''s tolerance, it had been just enough to fake a credible assassination attempt. The eight knights standing watch in front of her chambers wouldn''t let Astrael enter ¨C Phiramel''s orders ¨C but regardless, she probably wouldn''t regain consciousness for a day or so. He''d still come by this evening just in case. As he took the stairs once more, a voice called out to him. ¡°Where are you going?¡± He turned and was met with Julia, holding her red robes as she hurriedly climbed down the steps. ¡°To the trial.¡± ¡°Shouldn''t you be getting some sleep? You''ve been up all night.¡± ¡°Leon told you?¡± She looked around and nodded, and he observed her for a moment. It was uncanny for her to genuinely worry about him. ¡°I''m supposed to be a witness anyway. Come along. You''re going too, am I right?¡± He resumed his walk and she followed soon after. ¡°There''s a rumour going on,¡± she said, and he glanced behind. ¡°Word is you''re being recommended for the bloodsguard.¡± Astrael didn''t answer immediately. That''s new. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± he eventually asked. ¡°Everywhere.¡± Julia shrugged. ¡°You''ve saved the young mistress from both blade and poison, and you''re being trained by the captain of the bloodsguard himself. People like to talk about these things, is it that surprising?¡± No, he thought. He expected to be offered a proposition of the sort, at some point. Either knighthood or a place in Rina''s guard. Though most of them are from the nobility... But I suppose it comes down to me being Rina''s brother, again. ¡°Well, let us not speak of such boring matters,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°We have a trial to attend. It''s my first, I hope it''ll be interesting.¡± Hearing Astrael''s comment on the job''s dull nature, Julia frowned, but did not reply. They exited the temple and were blocked by a small crowd of servants and churchmen right outside the gates. Going through it required a bit of pushing and gymnastics, but once they had managed it, Astrael and Julia were assaulted by the sight of an even more crowded plaza. A dense mass of people surrounding the entrance of the building, guards blocking the way at the base of the stairs, and a figure standing tall, one arm raised, the other neatly folded behind him as he spoke to the plebs with a powerful voice ¨C Phiramel. ¡°...stands accused of treason, heresy, and associating with foreign nations to assassinate Xito''s chosen! Let the trial begin!¡± A few whispers among an otherwise silent crowd. Astrael studied the others who stood out atop of the stairs. There was Therenus, in chains and flanked by two guards, and a group of various people sitting on chairs and benches not far from them. ¡°The jury,¡± Julia whispered. ¡°Selected among the church, the nobility, and the common people.¡± Astrael scoffed. Selected. No doubt that Phiramel would have supervised the selection of the jury. But the elder must already know that. Witnesses came and go, servants and priests and lords, describing their versions of the event to the public and the jury, and the tales they told ranged from explicitly accusatory, to barely useful. They heard Therenus'' cupbearer, his slaves, his former associate lord Danalion, the bloodsguard Petrus, and so on. Lord Feanir''s turn came, then his son Leon, then his squire ¨C Astrael. None of their testimonies were necessary to convince a jury that was certainly already bought by Phiramel, but to him it was probably important to persuade the people that Therenus wouldn''t be sentenced to an unfair punishment. Astrael only hoped that the elder had enough oratory verve to hurt Phiramel''s firm grasp on the audience. He would eventually get to speak in front of everyone, to defend himself, and perhaps call some of his witnesses if he had any. I hope he thinks the best defence is offence. The testimonies went on, Phiramel pitched in here and now, directing the many tales through his questions and comments, and the crowd was now booing. The jury had made shocked and frightened faces, adding to the dramatic reactions. Finally, it was Therenus'' turn to speak. He stepped forward, pushing away the guards who still clung to his arms. ¡°People of Callir,¡± he began calmly, attracting glares from the jury because he wasn''t even bothering to look at them, ¡°you must think me a beast. You must think me a vile creature, a demon, something unworthy of a name. And I would join you too in this opinion, if I were in your shoes, because just like you, I wouldn''t know the truth. ¡°...I see some among you don''t even have shoes. I recognise a few of you, to whom I gave shoes. You all know me. You all know the name of the man who gave you shoes, clothing and food. That same man will never be able to give shoes, clothing and food to those who have nothing. Tomorrow I''ll be dead, and there is nothing I can do about it. ¡°I can only confess the truth. And the truth, my fellow citizens, is that you are being tricked by this man, Phiramel. But you, proud Callirians, won''t be fooled by the empty words of a treacherous actor. You are better than that, and deep down, you don''t even need me to tell you. You don''t need me to remind you it was I who, with your fathers'' help, brought a tyrant to justice, do you? You don''t need me to remind you it was also I who, with the help of the noble house Danalion, resurrected Callir''s trade and diplomacy with the rest of the world. You are right to be doubtful, for it also attracted many dangers, but know that without it, I could not have brought you clothes and bread and fruits, which I continued to do even when his excellency Phiramel replaced me. ¡°And I certainly don''t need to remind you what this man did when he became the high-priest. Did he bring you food for your children, tools for your craft, decent clothing for your sisters and daughters? No? What did he do, then?¡± Therenus scoffed. ¡°He granted holy pardon to the exiled royal scum who fled the city because they kept oppressing our people! You all remember that, don''t you?¡± Whispers in the crowd. Therenus glanced behind him, pointed a finger toward Laurentias, and looked back toward the people. ¡°We all know that some of his friends, first among them being the good lord Feanir, are monarchists! His family, and many others, had a long history of betrothal and friendship with the various kings and queens our precious city saw through its teary eyes! I advocated for their forgiveness, because children should never be blamed for the sins of their fathers, grand-fathers, and great-grand-fathers... And now they see their new monarch in the figure of Phiramel. What a fool I''ve made of myself ¨C and you, my people, will be the ones to pay the price of my mistakes. ¡°You see this man, here, imploring that I be executed, appealing to your emotions, manipulating you with a false display of faith and fear for the chosen''s life. He is a crocodile, and his tears are nothing but fabrication. He has been lurking all that time, waiting for an opportunity to get rid of me because as long as I breathed, Callir would see no king of any sort. And now, he has found that opportunity. He took advantage of the threats our beloved chosen of Xito had to bear, and set me up as the perpetrator! How could I, an eternal defender of the gods and the people''s freedom, possibly want to harm the hero?¡± he said with his arms spread, gazing at the skies. Then, after a moment, he bowed his head to the people. ¡°Think what you want, and do what you must, citizens of Callir. You know who I am, you know in your hearts what I did and what I didn''t do. You were strong enough to free yourselves from an insane king, don''t be weak enough to be fooled and enslaved by another tyrant, simply because he thinks himself a priest of Xito.¡± There were cheering and booing mixed in the crowd reactions. Astrael was quite satisfied, to say the least. If the plebs were as powerful as Therenus made it sound, then at least a few houses would reconsider their allegiance, and Phiramel would have to tread carefully as to not anger anyone. Phiramel raised an arm and tried to calm the crowd. ¡°It is unlike you to spout inaccuracies, elder,¡± said the high-priest to Therenus while the people were loudly arguing among themselves and yelling. ¡°I think myself a high-priest ¨C there is a difference. And I am certainly not the only one to think so. The whole city calls me high-priest, after all.¡± The chatter died down, and Phiramel whispered one last taunt to Therenus before addressing the crowd. ¡°People of Callir, you have heard the words of this man. And, must I say, it saddens me. It saddens me because he mostly spoke truth, genuine truth. Some of you may know that elder Therenus used to be my teacher, but he was more than that. He was like a father to me, and for many years, I looked up to him.¡± That earned him a glare from Therenus, who struggled to free himself from the two breathing statues holding him by the shoulders. Phiramel barely gave him a glance and went on. ¡°I looked up to him because he saved the city from a tyrant. It is as he said. When we all did nothing, he, and he alone, stood up against the madness of the king, and united the citizens against it. I looked up to him because he was a wise, forgiving man, who knew when to scold and when to console. I looked up to him because as a high-priest, he found the time to care for the poor, when I wasn''t able to do so ¨C and he indeed kept doing so even after I replaced him because the position was too straining for a man of his age. ¡°That is why it saddens me to be in such a situation, where I am to accuse this benevolent man, the saviour of Callir, the man I consider my spiritual father, of the most hideous crime there is. You surely understand it. How devastating it is, to see the person you admire the most, being corrupted by foreign money to the extent of turning against his god and his friends. I do not blame elder Therenus for his crimes and his hate toward me, know that. I blame the Vierans, with their silver, their gifts and their poisonous tongues. They turned the noblest man I''ve ever met into a criminal. Their nefarious influence made him conspire to assassinate our beloved chosen, not because of hatred, or evil, but because of greed. ¡°Alas, no human can defy the will of the gods. I would have perjured myself to protect this honourable man, had his only mistakes been greed and violence toward someone else. Yes, I confess it before you all, I would have lied for him. That is to say how much I admire and respect him. But the one he tried to harm was none other than Xito''s hero, and this is where my faith, my love of Xito, and my sense of duty, all fight against my personal affections and my respect for a fellow human.¡± He then took a more commanding voice. ¡°It is Xito himself who is offended by the violence against his chosen, and that is why I must side with the gods, rather than the humans. Understand that it saddens me to cast away my emotions, but I have no choice. I would not stand here before you if I had other options. I shall weep and mourn the man elder Therenus was, and curse fate for what it forced him to become. And I hope that we shall all learn from him, from both his virtuous acts, and his very human mistakes, so that we can become better men and women in the eyes of the gods, and so that we can become worthy of Xito''s blood.¡± He concluded his speech with a bow and a sad expression. Astrael felt his fists clench themselves. He didn''t even need to hear to crowd''s reaction to know. Therenus had been beaten at his own game. The only thing the plebs loved more than a display of abnegation, goodwill and faith, was an even bigger display of those, and Phiramel had perfectly understood that. Astrael had to refrain from biting his own lips. His eyes staring at his feet, he heard Julia''s voice. ¡°Phiramel has won,¡± she simply said, though he couldn''t know if the priestess was happy or bitter about it. He could have known, perhaps, if he looked at her face. But he simply turned around and walked away. ¡°...Yes, he did,¡± he slowly muttered as he stepped back through the gates. Therenus'' death would be vain. No, worse than vain ¨C it had not even happened yet, and it had helped Phiramel more than anything. Stained With Blood - Chapter 19 ¡°I''ve seen the best men turn into the worst beasts, simply because they tasted power. People who took pride in their honesty, their virtue, their benevolence... How hard they tried to resist these dark, primal urges, how guilty they convinced themselves they felt when they believed they had sinned, and how sickened they were when they realised they felt satisfaction, and not pity, as they crushed their enemies. But the sad truth I found is that men cannot avoid being consumed by their true nature ¨C they had never been able to resist it, and they never will. -Regheon the Wise, descendant of Dael¡± * * * Rina The healing herbs tasted bitter and she had to refrain from spitting it out. She put down the cup of tea on the table and shifted in her seat as she thought about Astrael''s report. The cup shook and banged against the table, and she waited for the small seizure to pass, holding her trembling right hand with the steady left. Astrael and the doctors had told her it could last for a few hours, or a few days even, until her body evacuates the poison. Other than that, stiffness and a strange urge to move around were the only symptoms that she had ever since she woke up this morning. ¡°So Phiramel took control of this situation,¡± she concluded. ¡°How bad is it?¡± Astrael sighed and rose from his seat. ¡°Bad enough,¡± he said as he walked aimlessly in her room, glancing at the bookshelves and whatnot. ¡°I wanted Therenus to weaken Phiramel, so that people who lost faith in him could turn to you. Ideally, we would have gotten rid of him in some way after that, and you''d have no trouble controlling the church and the city.¡± She swallowed her saliva, still feeling uneasy about that. Her, controlling the city? She understood the need to fight against the churchmen who wanted to make a puppet out of her, but the whole city? That was making her quite nervous. ¡°When is elder Therenus'' execution due?¡± ¡°This afternoon,¡± he said and stopped to open a book, going through the pages with uninterested eyes. ¡°Will you come and watch?¡± Rina shook her head. ¡°It feels like we condemned an innocent man to death...¡± Astrael stared at her for a moment and let out a faint chuckle. ¡°Beloved sister. Therenus was no saint. He was good to the people because it served his own interests, and I''m sure he did his fair share of misdeeds in the shadows.¡± Was? Rina gazed at her feet. You think him a dead man already... She surprised herself, feeling pity for Therenus, even though she had agreed with her brother''s plan to have him take the fall for crimes he didn''t commit. She had been fearing the elder, but now that his fate was decided, she only felt guilt. ¡°How will he die?¡± she asked. ¡°They''ll bleed him out.¡± said Astrael as he closed the book with a clap and kept going through the shelves. ¡°Someone will open his veins from elbow to wrist and everyone will be watching as he falls unconscious, and eventually dies. People will be expecting that you witness it, but if you don''t want to, we can say you''re still unwell from the poisoning.¡± Her heart started to beat faster. Was she scared? I don''t want to see that, she tried to convince herself. Her feet kept moving, knocking on the floor, and so she got up and began walking around the room too. As she did so, she thought she saw a glimpse of Astrael''s smile before he turned his head. But when he faced her again after a moment, there was no smile to be seen. ¡°I''m sorry about Odel.¡± She avoided his gaze. ¡°It''s not your fault,¡± she mumbled. No, it wasn''t his fault. She knew that. Her brother had told her the Vieran died with honour, acting according to his own code. She wondered if Odel had been thinking about his pride, his morals, his bravery, as he felt the life escape out of him because a knife was lodged in his eye socket. She never knew who the fencing master really was, nor had she been able to understand him. Now that he was dead, it seemed to her that none of it mattered anymore. ¡°It wouldn''t have happened if Phiramel had locked Therenus in a real cell, right?¡± she continued. ¡°He knew that Odel would try to free him, and he baited him.¡± Even though no one could have predicted that Odel would do that. Even though no one really knew how Odel would react to all of this. Even though no one could have guessed that Therenus still had friends willing to help him. The high-priest had made a safe bet and it simply paid off. ¡°Yes...¡± Astrael nodded and looked straight in her eyes. ¡°Phiramel is to blame.¡± Phiramel is to blame. She did nothing to resist that soothing thought, and convinced herself that he was at fault. ¡°He needs to be taken care of,¡± she simply stated as she neared the window and looked down at the city. But how? With his rival out of the picture, Phiramel couldn''t be attacked by anyone right now, so how? ...Should we kill him? She bit her lip and closed her eyes. No, no... Astrael would have already suggested it if he thought it would work. Think. ¡°We have to weaken him first,¡± Astrael said from behind as if he had been reading her mind. ¡°And strengthen your position. There is no point in getting rid of him if you don''t snatch his allies and assets. Right now I reckon he basically owns Callir. His disappearance would either lead to someone else succeeding him, or cause the city to be thrown in chaos, with the lords from his faction fighting each other for power. And we don''t want any of that. Not now, at least.¡± It made sense to her. ¡°Because if someone is to succeed him, it has to be me. And if his faction breaks apart, I have to be able to rally his former allies under me.¡± She turned around, looking for her brother''s approval, which he gave with a nod.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°As I said, we have to weaken him.¡± He paused and came near her, resting his elbows on the window ledge. ¡°There is a way... Not ideal, but still.¡± ¡°I don''t like how it sounds,¡± Rina muttered. Astrael gave her a complicated smile. ¡°We need to make his faction crumble from the inside. I suspect there are quite a lot of people who only follow him because they want to avoid suffering the same fate as Therenus. Lord Danalion, for instance, or the sibyl Viriane. They''ll start searching for safer options if they feel Phiramel is becoming too much of a threat. They would turn to you ¨C loved by the people, blessed by Xito, with growing power and influence. All we need is a crack to start with... And I dare say, in all modesty, that I am a fairly dangerous crack.¡± * * * Rina took a deep breath and stepped inside Phiramel''s room. Her guards stayed outside and she heard a servant closing the door behind her. The high-priest was seated in front of his desk, scribbling down messages with his quill, perhaps trying to forge new friendships with foreign kingdoms and monarchies, now that he was free from Therenus'' meddling. ¡°Young mistress,¡± he said without lifting his gaze from the paper. ¡°How are you feeling? The physicians told me you recovered quickly.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said in an intimidated voice, ¡°I am well.¡± He finally bothered to glance at her, and gave her a nod. ¡°Hm. Good. Forgive me, but our time is limited, the elder''s execution will take place shortly. What can I do for you?¡± She stepped forward and sat in a chair, fiddling with her fingers. Her right foot wouldn''t stop trembling, adding to her appearance of unease and nervousness. ¡°You see... Elder Therenus, he...¡± she interrupted herself and glanced sideways. ¡°I''m told he still has allies and accomplices roaming the streets of Callir, perhaps even the corridors of the temple.¡± ¡°Nonsense. I guarantee you, we took care of his associates. Fear not, young mistress, there isn''t a single person who wishes you harm in the entire city-state.¡± They both knew it was a lie, and she made sure to show it by knitting her brows in a doubting frown. ¡°I beg to differ. What of the elder''s slaves and servants?¡± ¡°What about them?¡± ¡°Therenus is an old man. I wonder how he managed to procure himself the poisons he tried to assassinate me with. Perhaps... he sent a lackey to buy what was needed? It may be wise to find out his identity, and see what happened to him.¡± She swallowed her saliva as loudly as she could. ¡°I could not sleep soundly knowing that there may be such a criminal still lurking in the temple...¡± Phiramel stopped writing, put his quill down, and stared at her. She stared back, and somehow, she knew. You''re curious, aren''t you? You don''t even think Therenus was the one who did it. You know he is smarter than that. The high-priest must have known that, like him, the elder wouldn''t gain anything from her death, and that even if it was the case, he wasn''t foolish enough to involve Vierans in a plot of his creation. Even though you''ve taken control of the situation... You feel like you''ve been played by someone, and you have no idea who. Don''t you want to find out? That unknown chessmaster, who bought the poisons, who planted them in Therenus'' room, who allowed you to get rid of your oldest enemy... No, perhaps he already knew. Perhaps he was already preparing countermeasures, and if it was the case, then Astrael was in danger. Phiramel cleared his throat. ¡°Yes,¡± he said at last. ¡°I shall be looking into this... as to relieve you from your worries. You do need some undisturbed rest, you''ve been through so much, after all...¡± She got up and bowed her head. ¡°Thank you, your excellency.¡± The old man chuckled, but Rina knew it to be a fake laugh. ¡°No need for such formalities, young mistress. I am at your service, after all. You can rely on me whenever you''re in need of advice.¡± You certainly do hope that I''ll do so after my consecration... She turned around and left the room, her knights immediately following her. A pair walked past her and kept a steady pace before her, four were flanking her, and another pair made up the rear guard. Sir Leon wouldn''t be part of her guard as long as his leg was healing, but she was thankful for that. When her brother confessed to her all of his schemes and secrets, she had learned that Leon had an affair with a priestess, and ever since that revelation she didn''t want the knight anywhere near her. Strangely enough, she was neither resentful nor angry. As if she had always known the impossible nature of her wish. In the end, she was thankful for this state of mind. Astrael didn''t say it explicitly, but Rina knew that being aware of Leon and Julia''s relationship would allow her to control these two if she needed to. And soon she would require all the tools she could get her hands on. Best not get attached to them, then. She went back to her room, where her brother was waiting for her. ¡°Is it done?¡± he asked once she had closed the door. Rina nodded. ¡°He took the bait. I don''t know how long you have, but I wouldn''t linger here if I were you.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± He thought for a bit and sighed. ¡°I suppose I''ll leave tonight. I need to gather my stuff and borrow a horse from Leon before I go. Preferably a fast one, I''m sure Phiramel will send riders after me.¡± ¡°...Do you think it''ll work?¡± ¡°It should. I am Leon Feanir''s squire, and I technically answer to him... At least, it will ignite the flame, though whether or not the fire survives and grows depends on you. As soon as you see that Phiramel suspects the Feanir house, make your move and get them on your side. The others will follow as he becomes more and more paranoiac.¡± Rina couldn''t help frowning. ¡°It''ll take some time. Months, perhaps years.¡± ¡°You''ll manage,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°I told you everything you needed to know. I''ll send you letters, and perhaps you''ll be able to write me back if I decide to stay somewhere.¡± Still, I won''t see you for a long time... And that is if everything goes well... They had agreed that he would take this exile of sorts as an opportunity to gather information about the assassins, and about possible reasons for the gods to call the heroes. Since they could no longer count on Therenus'' connections with the Vieran cities now that their relationship with Callir was as bad as it could ever get, Astrael would probably have to travel from place to place, perhaps even across the Middle Sea or the Grey Sea... ¡°Next time we meet ¨C and I promise you we shall meet again,¡± he kept on, ¡°you''ll officially be Xito''s hero, and people will be calling you your holiness instead of young mistress. I trust you''ll also be Callir''s ruler by then. You''ll have enough power to do whatever you want. Hell, you could spit on traditions and make me a bloodsguard even before my twenty-first birthday if you wished so.¡± ¡°That reminds me,¡± she said as she went searching for her jewellery box and opened it. Rina took out necklaces and earrings, rubies and pearls, until she finally found what she was looking for. She then walked back to her brother and passed her hands behind his neck to clasp the ends of the small chain together. ¡°Here,¡± she said as she let him observe the pendant, a round piece of silver, bramble thorns engraved in it, with a single red droplet of blood in the middle ¨C a small ruby. ¡°It looks like the ones the bloodsguards wear,¡± he eventually concluded. ¡°Except theirs don''t have a gem embedded. I had this one made some time ago, and I wanted it to be your gift someday. Might as well give it to you now.¡± He hugged her and stroke her hair. ¡°I''m sorry I don''t have a present for your consecration. I meant to offer you the whole city or something along those lines, but it seems I failed.¡± Rina giggled. ¡°You messed up alright. But it''s fine. You didn''t win, but you didn''t lose either. You did all you could, gave me all the tools, now I have to earn it.¡± They embraced each other for a moment, speaking no word. All Rina could think about was how she feared the plan wouldn''t work, or how she would never see her brother again, and all sorts of worries. She wondered what he was thinking about. He seemed calm ¨C what was happening in this mind of his? How was he truly feeling about this? I know a part of him is doing this for my sake... And I know a part of him is simply enjoying the game. Yes, deep down, she was aware. Astrael was that sort of marvellous character, a prince in common clothing, someone who would gamble about the fate of the world. Someone like Demnir the kingmaker. ¡°I''ll miss you,¡± she eventually said in a whisper. Astrael kissed her hair. ¡°I''ll miss you too.¡± Stained With Blood - Chapter 20 ¡°Whenever he had a sword in hand, he was enthralling. He danced and swirled and it was beautiful... I cried when I saw it the first time, for I had never known death and slaughter could be so elegant. I said to myself ¨C I want to paint it. -Haelio¡± * * * The henchman ¡°By Viera''s tits,¡± Gerald grumbled, ¡°if this one gives me nothing...¡± ...I''ll keep searching because that''s what I''m paid for, he concluded as his anger instantly died. Nothing to complain about, as long as there was silver at the end of the day. Still, his excellency Phiramel was working him hard, making him go through every single apothecary or herbalist in the city. He glanced at the shop''s facade for a second and entered. The old apothecary sized him up, and his frightened eyes betrayed his understanding of the situation ¨C indeed, Gerald wasn''t exactly an ordinary customer. ¡°Hello!¡± the unordinary customer greeted merrily as he combed his disheveled hair away from his face and gave a smile of sorts, the one he had been practising in order to pick up ladies. Ladies loved smiles, as opposed to whores who preferred silver. As he still had very little in the way of friendly smiles, but possessed a well-supplied purse, for now he comforted himself with whores while dreaming of ladies. ¡°W-w-what c-can I do f-for you...¡± the old man muttered weakly, and Gerald knew that his charming smile wasn''t there yet. Or perhaps it had to do with his thick beard, his mean brows, and the goddamn sheathed sword dangling from his belt? Bah, whether they''re intimidated or charmed, it''s all the same thing. They cough it up more easily. ¡°Seen any suspicious fellow these past few weeks? One that would buy, say... tons of hemlock, night berries... strychnine, cobra venom... and...¡± He rummaged through his bag and took out a list, but he didn''t feel like reading it out loud for what would have been the twelfth time. ¡°Eh, all manner of snake venom, truly.¡± The apothecary stared at him with big eyes, perhaps surprised that the bandit-looking Gerald could read, or perhaps because it described exactly a customer of his. Gerald sniffed something fishy and stepped forward, resting his palms on the counter. The old man glanced sideways, and Gerald couldn''t help grinning in satisfaction. Finally. He slipped a couple of silver coins in the apothecary''s hand, and gave him an insisting look. ¡°Err... W-well... There was a young man asking for such things, recently...¡± Gerald''s smile widened. ¡°Recently?¡± ¡°T-three...¡± He cleared his throat, but he sounded more like he was choking on his own saliva. ¡°Three days ago, p-perhaps? Actually, he came here several times before, b-but... it was the first time he bought that many poisons.¡± ¡°Hmm. What''s he like, this young man?¡± ¡°He looked... quite young, not older than fifteen I''d say... But tall for his age. Though not as tall as milord here,¡± he said with an awkward laugh, which abruptly stopped as he noticed Gerald''s glare. ¡°Errm... Dark hair, piercing eyes...¡± ¡°Good. Anything else?¡± ¡°...He had a sword, and wore a red doublet, if I recall. Oh, oh! I remember seeing the Feanir crest on his sheathe.¡± Now, now. Interesting. Gerald forcefully grabbed the paling apothecary''s hand and shook it vigorously. ¡°Thank you for your time.¡± He stepped out and walked the streets until he reached the temple. Atop the stairs, servants were cleaning a red-stained floor, probably from that old man''s execution that took place this afternoon. Shame I was busy working. Gerald didn''t care much for politics, but like everyone else, he enjoyed a good old execution. He gave one last look at the darkening grey sky before entering. Nasty clouds, it would rain tonight. Inside, he took the stairs and went to the last floor. Little maids and pretty priestesses all stole uneasy glances, but he was used to it. It had gotten worse ever since the chosen had been the target of an assassination attempt, but nobody really ever tried to antagonise him. They must have figured no assassin worthy of the name would walk around while attracting so much attention. He always gave them his kindest smile, of course. Gerald arrived at the gardens and knocked on Phiramel''s door. A servant came to open him and motioned for him to enter. ¡°What news do you have?¡± the high-priest immediately inquired. ¡°Got a description from an old apothecary near the craftsmen guild. He bought everything there was on the list.¡± ¡°And?¡± Phiramel insisted with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. ¡°Right, err...¡± Gerald sniffed loudly. ¡°Young man, fifteen at most... Dark hair, red doublet, sword with the Feanir family crest.¡± Phiramel''s eyes, still fixed on the papers laying atop his desk, widened and immediately shrunk under a worried frown. For a moment, he said nothing, and Gerald simply stood here, waiting for any sort of answer, wondering if he had done something wrong. ¡°Did he act alone, or...¡± Phiramel mumbled, ¡°is it Leon? No, perhaps on Laurentius'' orders...¡± ¡°Your excellency?¡± ¡°Gerald,¡± the high-priest said, ¡°gather whatever men you have. Put discreet watchers around the Feanir estate, have the family followed. I want to know where they go, who they speak with, what they eat, even the colour of their shit.¡± ¡°As you command, sir.¡± ¡°Also,¡± he kept on, ¡°the man you just described is Astrael, a Feanir squire. Find him. Keep an eye on the gates. If he already left the city, take your best horses and catch up to him.¡± ¡°For questioning, sir?¡± Gerald asked with professional detachment. ¡°Or silencing?¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°I''d like him alive, but kill him if you must.¡± Phiramel exhaled deeply. ¡°If he resists my orders, that''ll be proof enough anyway.¡± Dark hair, Feanir squire. Astrael... Then Gerald realised. That''s the chosen''s bloody brother... He wasn''t sure what to think about all this. Gerald had never been one to bother himself with morals and whatnot, especially considering his line of work, but the hero''s family? Wouldn''t that be like going up against the gods? But then again, his excellency was the high-priest, a devoted servant of Xito. Surely there was a reason for this. Perhaps Gerald''s boss guessed he needed a greater motivation, and so he offered one. ¡°I''ll triple your pay for this one,¡± he said. Suddenly, Gerald found himself a new god to worship in the marvellous entity that were silver coins. Can''t buy things with faith, after all. He bowed and quickly left the priest''s room, found the men he had posted in the temple, and went to search for the rest of his band in an inn. He passed the orders, had subordinates looking for the squire in the temple, sent watchers at the gates, at the Feanir mansion, and made arrangements with some spies to follow Laurentius Feanir and his sons Leon and Timenon. It didn''t take long for reports to arrive. Less than two hours in, he learned that people in the temple had seen the lad going out with luggage and all, that he had gotten a horse from the Feanir stables, and that some dark haired rider with red clothes and a fancy sword had just passed through the southern gates. ¡°Let''s go boys,¡± Gerald said, getting up and clapping his hands. Five men should be enough. ¡°I want Paulus, Vic, Barric and Don with me. Get some rope, fasten your sword belts and hop on your saddles ¨C we''re going on a hunt!¡± ¡°Aye, boss!¡± Paulus cheered and combed his long hair. Barric showed his rotten teeth with a large smile, and the muscular Don grunted. ¡°The rest of you, you keep watchin'' the town and report to me when I get back. Carius, you''re in charge in the meantime, and you''ll inform his excellency of any development regarding the Feanir family.¡± Carius scratched his balding skull and nodded. They mounted and departed for the south. It started to rain, and it would be getting dark real soon. Not the ideal conditions for a hunt, but Gerald and his men had no choice. The target had a head start and they couldn''t afford waiting till the skies cleared up, else they''d risk losing him for good. At the gates, Vic the ginger questioned the guards and confirmed that someone whose appearance corresponded to Astrael''s went south. Gerald thought for a bit and studied his mental map of the city-state. Does he mean to follow the river and reach the sea? If he manages to get on a boat and escape, his excellency will have my head... Fortunately, their horses were a strong breed, and Gerald and his riders were lightly equipped. They should be able to catch up, especially if the squire''s horse was burdened with luggage. They rode for what must have been an hour or so, and eventually they left the rocky plains surrounding Callir and followed the forest-surrounded road. This was the one the slavers used to transport their merchandise from Callir to the nearest port. The shortest way, as to avoid tiring the slaves too much and keep them in good physical condition. Gerald didn''t like this road. Ambushes could be easily set up, and if Astrael was aware he was being pursued, he could prove quite dangerous, even alone against five riders. Thankfully, that didn''t seem to be the case ¨C there he was, a shadow riding in the night, and he seemed to be in a hurry. But if they all kept the same pace, they could certainly reach him if he didn''t notice them too soon. Gerald spurred his horse forward, and bellowed to his men, ¡°Get him!¡± He thought he saw the squire turn his head, and for a moment he feared the target would steer his horse toward the forest and try to escape through it. Chasing someone on horseback in the Callirian forests was bad enough, and with the night and the rain here, Gerald wasn''t confident he could capture him. But strangely enough, the rider seemed to have stopped ¨C the flank of his horse facing Gerald and his men, it looked like he was observing them. What''s he doing? Barric drew steel and pointed his blade toward the squire as he passed Gerald and rode in front of the group. Wanting to scare him a bit, perhaps. And yet he was still here. He took something out from his bag, and half a second was enough for Gerald to understand. ¡°Barri-!¡± he meant to warn him, but Barric became a flash, flying backward from his horse with a crossbow bolt stuck in his head, before falling and rolling on the mud. ¡°Shit!¡± ¡°Fucker,¡± spat Paulus through clenched teeth. The group didn''t stop, Gerald unsheathed his sword and bent forward while his boys did the same. No capturing alive for this one. And now the squire was spurring his horse toward them. You think yourself a bloody jouster, eh? Gerald took the vanguard as his riders formed an arrow, but he saw the squire aiming at their flank. They passed each other ¨C Gerald swung horizontally, the squire dodged. He heard something slashing behind him, then a crack and a scream, and when he glanced back he saw Paulus on the ground, stuck under his bleeding horse. ¡°Don,¡± Gerald hurriedly commanded, ¡°Help him!¡± He feared that the damn squire would turn back and finish off Paulus while he couldn''t move, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead he kept riding away, stopped again, sheathed his sword and spanned his crossbow. He''s playing with us, he realised. Maybe we can use his cockiness and trick him... ¡°Mercy!¡± Gerald bellowed, ¡°We just want to talk!¡± His men stared at him with confused eyes but understood quickly enough what he was trying to do. The rider approached cautiously, crossbow in hand, pointing his small weapon toward them. It looked like it packed power despite the unusual size, and it was attached to his belt, so that after firing he could immediately drop it and wield his sword. ¡°Leg''s probably broken, boss,¡± he heard from behind, and he simply nodded without looking back. Paulus'' groans of pain were enough evidence. ¡°We''ll get you out as soon as we''re finished with him,¡± he replied, his eyes still fixed on the target. Once the squire was at reasonable distance, enough to be heard speaking through the rain at least, Gerald could clearly see his face. His wet hair were as dark as anyone else''s, but there was no mistaking the sharp eyes and the mocking lips. ¡°Apologies,¡± Astrael said with a shrug, ¡°I can''t spare you much time. Whatever business you think you have with me, I''ll make it quick for everyone ¨C either get lost, or die.¡± He let himself being surrounded by Gerald''s two remaining riders. Is he that confident? The mere thought that Astrael had the skills to back up this arrogance made him shiver. Because from what he had seen, it wasn''t far-fetched. ¡°We don''t wanna hurt you,¡± Gerald said with a welcoming gesture. ¡°Just let us escort you back to Callir. By order of his excellency Phiramel.¡± ¡°And if I refuse?¡± he asked nonchalantly. He stared at Astrael for a moment. Gerald then glanced at his men and made sure they were ready. He swallowed loudly and gave an awkward smile as he steered his horse slightly to the side in order to have a clear swing on the lad. ¡°...We just bring back your body.¡± ¡°Then come at me, you dumb bastards!¡± he yelled with an eerie smile, and fired his crossbow. Gerald instinctively threw himself sideways, and the bolt pierced his right arm. He fell in the wet dirt while his horse ran away. Fucking hell... He closed his eyes for a moment, not daring to touch his arm, but forced himself to see again. He had no time to care about his wound. He heard clashing steel and neighing horses all around him, and he got to his feet just in time to watch Vic''s horse collapsing, blood flowing from the mount''s neck. Astrael was like a demon ¨C a sentient tornado, Gerald would have said. Quick, accurate, deadly. He pushed back Don with each strike, and Gerald could see the weight behind Astrael''s skillful slashes. Yet he was probably not nearly as muscular as Don. Gerald snapped out of his dizziness, lend a hand to Vic who fortunately hadn''t been injured in his fall, and grabbed the sword he had dropped. By the time he looked up, Astrael had already thrusted his blade through Don''s heart. He glanced to his remaining two foes, smiled once more, and dismounted. ¡°Oh, you''re left-handed,¡± he simply stated with a tinge of disappointment in his voice, as he saw Gerald holding his weapon with ease in his left hand. The bastard must have assumed that a wounded right arm would be enough to incapacitate him. Vic closed in and began with an overhead slash, and kept pressuring Astrael while Gerald tried to sneak up behind him. But he seemed perfectly aware of their tactics, and with nimble footwork, managed to always have Vic standing between them. There wasn''t a split second during which he wasn''t in control of the fight. Damn it all, Gerald thought before attempting a careless charge as Vic was forced to take several steps back. He landed a swing on Astrael''s sword, but with only one hand it felt like it had no power to it. Astrael parried effortlessly and dodged Vic''s attack. Then immediately kicked Gerald in the nuts so hard he fell to his knees, while he slashed at Vic at the same time. The blade caught the ginger on the hand and made him drop his weapon. Three fingers fell in the mud, blood pissing from the knuckles. Astrael thrusted, fast as lightning, and Vic collapsed on the ground, gurgling and clawing at his throat. Gerald raised a weak guard, but Astrael sent his sword flying away with a swing of his own. As the squire buried his blade in his stomach, Gerald felt the tears flowing and his gritted teeth shattering. He saw Astrael''s face up close ¨C his mouth wasn''t smiling anymore, nor were his eyes. Cold eyes, that was all. As cold as the air that Gerald breathed with difficulty. Cold grey eyes that echoed his shivering limbs, the icy rain on his nape, running under his clothes, the freezing mud covering his knees, the sharp steel slicing his flesh once more as the sword was taken out of him, and the biting pain... The pain, the pain, the pain. Now he was laying in the dirt, and could only watch silently as Astrael put the injured horses out of their misery, before nearing Paulus, who had been watching from afar all along, powerless. Paulus begged, implored, vainly punched his dead horse, and finally screamed right before the squire slit his throat. Gerald no longer cared. He only wanted to sleep. Now he couldn''t see anymore... But when he heard Astrael''s footsteps approaching, he couldn''t resist letting out his bitterness. ¡°You''ll hang...¡± he muttered in a weak voice, tasting the blood in his mouth. ¡°We know your face, your name... You''ll be hunted down...¡± ¡°Hmm. I better change my name, then.¡± Gerald heard the sound of a sword cutting through the air, then nothing. The Palace Of Masks - Chapter 21 ¡°Agel the Pious, descendant of Dael the Conqueror, is said to have built the temple of Pelirise ¨C according to the scriptures, the goddess herself spoke to him during a dream, and foretold that his bloodline would last and prevail for centuries after his death. In turn, he took it upon himself to convert his entire people to her cult. We do know what became of house Agelien today. -Daeli priest¡± * * * Ezveril She silently watched and listened to the dancers and singers ¨C both the professional ones, and the drunk ones that fancied themselves so. Some fat bald merchant, displaying his wealth with all his fine clothes and shining rings, trying to get his hands on a lightly dressed girl that was perhaps a few years older than Ezveril herself. On the other side of the great hall, a man caressing the leg of another, and not far from them, a woman being pleased by a young slave, tits out for all to see. Ezveril Agelien, fourth princess of Dael, grimaced, for she was not enjoying her welcoming party one bit. Savages, degenerates and eccentrics... As a follower of Pelirise, the Vieran way of life could only shock her, and even though she thought she had prepared herself for this, she was still disturbed. But this catastrophic feast was merely a step along this distasteful tale that was her new life in Ocia. Everything until now had gone horribly wrong. Upon arriving after a tiring journey by sea, she was welcomed by a large gathering of Vieran dignitaries, all dressed in a fashion she immediately knew she would have trouble adapting to. Some of the girls showed much skin, their faces were painted, and whatever these necklaces of sorts were, they weren''t worn at the neck, but around the waist, the thighs, and the chest ¨C and tightly, as to better hint at their anatomy. The men wore robes and togas, of rich purple, orange and gold, and they all had their jaws shaved, wore their hair with curls and accessories, and also had coloured faces, making them look more like women rather than men. The result was, in the end, quite unnerving. She knew not the faces of the people present, but from a very young age she had been taught the language, the names, the etiquette, allowing her to build a bit of confidence as she was introduced to them and could react accordingly. A confidence that had been crushed promptly by the lady-regent after the greetings and formalities. The mere memory of it was enough to make Ezveril frown. ¡°I see this court painter of yours is quite the artist, your highness,¡± said Atricia of Ocia to her as they walked in the empty great hall. It had been decided that Ezveril would be shown around immediately, as to allow her to get familiar with the palace as soon as possible. ¡°I must agree,¡± Vierodel said to his mother, glancing back at Ezveril as he walked in front of them. He was a rather elegant youth, with long dark curly hair, purple painted lips, and aloof eyes. She had been somewhat charmed by the young lord, because he was the only one who bothered to speak clear and slow sentences, while nobody else seemed to care that she still had a lot of trouble with the melodious Vieran tongue. ¡°He certainly captured your beauty with evident skill and grace.¡± Ezveril was about to answer Vierodel''s compliment with one of her rare smiles, but what lady Atricia said next made her freeze. ¡°On the contrary. Somehow, he managed to paint a portrait of which the model is unworthy. But if you insist she''s to your liking, Vierodel, then so be it.¡± It took Ezveril a moment to understand what she meant, as if she had purposely phrased it in a complicated way, but the air of disdain in the lady''s eyes proved to be a gorgeous help. Atricia had not bothered to hide her disappointment ever since. The only true friend she had here was, as always, Hilne Neraldes. Sometimes Ezveril wanted to ask her knight to satisfy her selfish desires. She wanted to act like a spoiled princess and command Hilne to behead the lot of them. And the sworn knight would certainly do it, and she would surely do worse things if Ezveril asked her. Worser things even ¨C the worst, vilest things perhaps ¨C if Hilne was forced to, if it was for her princess'' sake. But Ezveril was a daughter of the Agelien house, and therefore she would endure. She would bear with whatever torments the lady Atricia and her court of dumb wenches inflicted upon her. Ezveril would not be selfish. And since leaving the great hall, where all of Ocia''s finest citizens were supposedly celebrating her arrival, would be seen as a selfish thing, she simply shut her mouth and stayed seated at the high-table, next to her betrothed. Endure, because it is expected of you. ¡°Are you not enjoying the festivities, your highness? This party is in your honour.¡± Ezveril turned her head and stared at Vierodel for a second. He held a long, fragile cup of glass containing wine between two fingers, and rested his chin on the other hand. His colourful tunic gave a view of his bare chest, and she felt tempted to look. ¡°I...¡± she said in a low voice, ¡°I imagined it differently...¡± ¡°Perhaps less flesh and more singing about Pelirise,¡± he said with a chuckle. She didn''t show it, but she felt slightly offended that he caricatured the Daeli gatherings in such a manner ¨C a feast was a feast, after all. The princess knew that it was a joyous occasion where people would drink and sing and eat, and sometimes do other things. Still, these other things, Ezveril had never attended a party where they happened. Until now. ¡°I understand that it must be difficult, as a girl aged of ten, to be here,¡± Vierodel kept on. ¡°And I understand it must be intimidating, for your betrothed to be your elder by seven years.¡± She glanced away and fiddled with her fingers, playing with her purple dress. Not even her own dress, Atricia had criticised so harshly the attires she had brought from Dael that she was too ashamed to wear them now, in front of people who probably had the same taste. ¡°Yes...¡± She wanted to look behind and seek refuge in Hilne''s eyes. But it would be rude to ignore the lord sitting next to her for the bodyguard standing behind her. ¡°We shall take all the time we need, and learn about each other. I do sincerely hope you''ll have a pleasant life here in Ocia.¡± Ezveril nodded, and felt the insistent gaze of lady Atricia, who then acted like nothing and played with her purple dyed hair when their eyes met. Had she been listening? I have to be careful about what I say... and what I discuss, even if I say nothing. There was no telling how the lady-regent''s hateful mind would twist Ezveril''s words and expressions. ¡°Ah, lord Segheon,¡± she heard Vierodel greet, and followed his gaze. ¡°A fine evening, is it?¡± ¡°A fine evening indeed,¡± the lord answered ¨C a man in his thirties perhaps, with short brown balding hair. Despite his tanned skin, his smooth chin and his Vieran clothes, Ezveril immediately knew him to be a Daeli. His name, his accent, his facial features, they told her. Segheon turned to Ezveril and bowed. ¡°Your highness, forgive me for introducing myself with such tardiness,¡± he said their native tongue. ¡°I am Saerge Segheon, Daeli ambassador in Ocia. It is an honour to finally meet you.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Likewise, my lord. My father told me about you.¡± Finally being able to speak her own language with someone else than Hilne put her at ease and she regained her composure quite quickly. Segheon glanced at Hilne and gave her a nod. ¡°Lady Neraldes, it has been a long time. I recall seeing you fifteen years ago in Dael ¨C your were already a famous beauty and an excellent jouster.¡± He took out a letter from under his robes and put in on the table. While Ezveril wondered if it was for her, Hilne stepped forward, reached for it and studied the seal with an indecipherable expression. ¡°May I steal away the princess for a moment?¡± Saerge said in a perfect Vieran, but he was clearly asking Hilne, not Vieronel. Atricia''s son smiled nonetheless. ¡°Be my guest, but I expect her back.¡± he said cheekily, while the knight stared at the ambassador for a moment before she gave her silent accord. Ezveril got to her feet and made her way around the table. Saerge offered a hand and she took it without questions. He led her as they walked slowly and aimlessly in the great hall, observing the shameless whoring, the awful bellowing and the boorish stuffing of greasy, oily food. Or rather, he observed, whereas she averted her gaze from the freak show. At last, he spoke in their native language once more. ¡°What do you think of the young lord so far?¡± ¡°...He appears kind and understanding. The lady-regent does not seem to appreciate me, however. I suppose I may have offended her in some way.¡± Lord Segheon chuckled. ¡°Fear not, your highness. Atricia of Ocia is known in all of the city-states for her bad temper and her sharp tongue. She used to be a kind and admirable woman, though I''m afraid she has never been the same ever since her husband passed away.¡± ¡°But surely it should please her, to see her son happily married?¡± Hearing that, the ambassador gave her a complicated look, and it made her realise her own naiveness, even though she had no idea what she was mistaken about. ¡°Princess, forgive me putting it in such a way, but why do you think lady Atricia has agreed to wed her only son to you, a ten year-old girl?¡± Ezveril bit her lips and frowned. ¡°Because...¡± she began, and paused. All manner of wild guesses popped up in her mind, but she felt they were all wrong. ¡°Because she wants to make an ally out of my father...¡± she finally said. She knew it was a valuable thing, because she remembered Hilne''s words when she had voiced her worries about the lack of dowry on her side. What dowry? Hilne had replied with her brows raised. Entering an alliance with Arthian Agelien and marrying his daughter is a gift the Vierans are already unworthy of. That''s the dowry. ¡°Hmm.¡± Saerge smiled. ¡°Not wrong, but it goes beyond that. She indeed wants an alliance with the kingdom of Dael, but why you? Why not, say... your sister, princess Agelle, who is of age and unmarried?¡± Ah... That was true. Atricia''s son was already old enough to govern, yet he would have to wait until the wedding with Ezveril took place before he could truly rule Ocia. They''d have to wait until she bled ¨C in three or four years perhaps, as the maids had told her. ¡°My guess,¡± Segheon carried on, ¡°is that the lady-regent wishes to keep the regency for a few more years... But don''t speak a word of it to anyone, of course.¡± ¡°Why did my father agree to this, then?¡± she inquired, lips pursed. The crown-prince was not one to willingly make disadvantageous deals. ¡°Oh, I gather he certainly knew all about Atricia''s secret desires.¡± They stopped and with a gesture of his arm, lord Segheon motioned toward the guests in the great hall. ¡°This venture has always been about taking control of Ocia, your highness. Lady Atricia probably hopes to groom you into a proper Vieran wife in the years to come, while your father expects you to own the young lord.¡± ¡°Own?¡± she repeated, while he led her back toward the high-table. ¡°You are a woman. You will whisper in his ear, be the master of his nights. You will bear him children, and if Pelirise blesses you with a male heir, you will make sure he honours his Daeli blood rather than his Vieran ancestry.¡± She glanced at him and meant to protest, but they were already at the table. Saerge bowed yet again. ¡°It was a pleasure meeting you, princess,¡± he said in Vieran before facing Vierodel and Atricia. ¡°My lady, my lord, I shall take my leave. It has been a wonderful evening, but work awaits me tomorrow morning.¡± ¡°Hardworking as ever. Sleep well, ambassador,¡± Atricia said with some cunning smile of hers. Ezveril neared her seat, but she came to a stop. ¡°...May I retire to my chambers?¡± she asked. ¡°The journey has been tiring, I feel unwell.¡± ¡°Oh, but of course,¡± Vierodel hurriedly said. He rose from his seat, came next to her and held her hand. ¡°Let me accompany you. Our guests here can surely bear my absence for a second, as you are more important than them.¡± Vierodel led the way, Ezveril followed him, Hilne and a few maids right behind her, and then some of the young lord''s guards. A bunch of these lightly dressed girls came too, the ones with the golden chains worn at improper places. The princess did not dare to look back, fearing she would be met with lady Atricia''s glare. The sounds of the celebration became muffled as they walked away from the hall. Through the glassless arched windows of the corridors, Ezveril could see the starry sky reflected against the water, and feel the air. The breeze was cool, but not cold. During daytime, it was possible to see the little bit of land across the strait of Ocia ¨C her kingdom''s land. But then again, these parts were so far away from the capital of Dael that she had never been there. They were also barren, and often raided by eastern tribes that managed to cross the border, and so the population was low. It also made for an ideal route for smugglers that wished to navigate between the Middle Sea and the Grey Sea without going through Ocia, at least if they weren''t caught by the raiders, or Daeli soldiers. Still, I''ve been told it isn''t as lawless as it used to be, Ezveril thought. The Sun is currently leading an army and restoring order in the east... Beyond the horizon, far beyond what human eyes could see, stood the tall temple of Pelirise, said to have reached the sun before the top collapsed. It had been built close to the easternmost borders at the time, so that its priests could worship the morning sun earlier than everyone else, but obviously the borders had moved farther east since then. They stopped in front of a door that Ezveril remembered as the one leading to her chambers. ¡°Well then,¡± Vierodel said as he opened the door for her. ¡°This is it. I''ll be returning to the feast now, but if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask for me.¡± ¡°I give you my thanks, my lord,¡± Ezveril said with a curtsy. Vierodel kissed her hand and walked away. She gave him one last glance before entering her apartments, when she was sure he wouldn''t look back... and saw him stroking the behind of one of the girls, before slipping his hand under her clothes. Her mouth agape, she wanted to slap herself for not understanding it earlier. These girls were pleasure slaves, she had been told about them, and yet... She had been told that she would have a hard time finding a Vieran dignitary that didn''t indulge in such customs, but still, she felt betrayed. Of course, her betrothed was a follower of Viera. Of course. Why in earth had she been expecting him to behave like a proper Daeli? She was in Ocia now, and bed slaves were merely part of the everyday palace life these people led. It''s all an act, isn''t it... ¡°Is something the matter, princess?¡± a maid suddenly asked, perhaps alarmed by whatever expression Ezveril may have failed to hide. ¡°No,¡± she said, and observed her chambers for a second. The servants had already moved in her luggage and belongings, and while she would have been excited to discover every single detail about her new room, she was in a different mood tonight. ¡°You can go.¡± One of the maids was about to retort something but Ezveril raised her palm to stop her. The girls did not insist and silently left the room, while only Hilne stayed. ¡°What''s in the letter?¡± Ezveril inquired once they were alone, referring to the piece of paper that Saerge Segheon gave her. Hilne did not answer, and though her face was hidden by her dark hair and the shadow casted by the candles behind her, Ezveril knew that the knight was staring at her. ¡°What''s in the letter?¡± she asked once again, in a more commanding voice. ¡°Information,¡± Hilne eventually answered, in an unusually detached tone. ¡°Advice, maps, addresses... And instructions.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°...For your purposes in Ocia, your highness.¡± Yes... She had a job to do. A mission. Ambassador Segheon had done a fine job of reminding her. It had never been about her, or Vierodel, or their wedding, or their cultural differences, or whatever else. Suddenly, she wasn''t feeling as tired as before. Anger had woken her up and bitterness had taken the place of exhaustion. Ezveril went to fetch candlesticks and lit more of them. Once the room was made brighter, she sat on her bed and nodded to herself. ¡°Then let''s hear it out,¡± she said flatly. The Vierans wanted to act a play of their own... But she was born amongst liars and flatterers, in the greatest theatre in the world ¨C the royal capital of Dael. Ezveril had received a script from her father, and she certainly intended to be praised for her performance. Here Be Liars - Chapter 22 ¡°Akilne, the Great Grey City, as they called it long ago, long before the faith of Viera found its way in the heart of its inhabitants. Notorious for its oddly colourless walls that seem to reflect light like water does ¨C walls said to have been constructed by people that feared the malevolent gods lurking in the depths of the Grey Sea. Supposedly, the walls were initially made of red and orange bricks, but after warding off a dreadful curse from these sea deities, they lost all their colour and became the strange stones that we know today. Bunch of nonsense if you ask me, but what do I know... -traveller¡± * * * Nelvel Nelvel tried to scratch his ear, but with his hands and feet chained together, he made a ruckus that earned him glares from the other slaves trying to finish their night. They were still half asleep, but he was too nervous to even try to close his eyes. Today was the day he would be sold on the market, after all. As the other passengers in the hold slowly woke, Nelvel observed them. Studied them with a desperate curiosity. What would these people do once they walked the streets of Akilne? Those people who still had their freedom, their hopes and their dreams. He tried to guess their profession and personality just by looking at them or hearing them talk. Nelvel thought he had always been good at sizing up people, and there wasn''t much else to do right now anyway. His eyes locked on an old man with a tired face who kept fidgeting with a small iron ring, the last keepsake of a deceased close one, perhaps. Judging by his expression full of regrets, the man either sought a place to start a new life, or a place to die. There were still people who believed that the grey gods of the sea would come and take them away in due time, when they had lost everything. Will they take me, too? he wondered as he glanced around, watching the people slowly waking up. But the few guys here that weren''t slaves were, alas, somewhat boring. Most were Callirians just wealthy enough to board on a ship, but way too poor to get a cabin for themselves. They slept here, with the slaves, the cargo, and the horses. Speaking of horses, someone came down here to check on them. Or at least, one of them. A fine horse, Nelvel surmised, even though he knew nothing about horses. What made him think so was the appearance of the fellow who took care of it. He had fine red clothes, a fancy sword, and a certain air of arrogance ¨C a young noble, Nelvel would have guessed, a few years younger than him probably. But shouldn''t he have squires taking care of these matters? he wondered as he saw the noble taking out hay from a linen bag and feed it to the horse. As the waking man next to him was about to retch all over him, the blue-blooded youth hurriedly stepped aside, dropping his bag at the same time. The sick looking lad who collapsed in his own puke had nearly dyed the nobleman''s pants yellow, and seeing his unamused expression, that was not acceptable. ¡°A-apologies, sir... I''ve never been well on sea...¡± the sick man muttered with pitiful eyes as he rose from his puddle of vomit only to meet the youth''s glare. ¡°Dear gods,¡± he growled with a Callirian accent, and Nelvel caught a glimpse of a silver pendant under his clothes when he leaned forward to grab his belongings. ¡°Why do people take boats when they know they have seasickness?¡± the nobleman wondered out loud while he strode over the sick man and finished feeding his horse. Perhaps the man wished to voice another apology, or some sort of justification, but in place of words, it was the last bits of his breakfast that came pouring out of his mouth. The noble did not bother to witness this sad event any longer and once he was done here, he silently left and climbed the wooden stairs. Probably returning to his cabin or seeking the sea breeze after a minute in this cave stinking of puke, sweat, and horses. How I wish I could do the same... Later in the morning, the ship arrived in Akilne. The slaver that owned Nelvel and the others ordered his vicious lackey to get the slaves moving. His employee was a short, skinny man, that the slaves called Seven-Teeth, for self-explanatory reasons. Apparently, barely two weeks ago, his name was Eight-Teeth, and the most ancient slaves here insisted that when they were bought two months ago they still called him Eleven-Teeth. What in earth does he do with his teeth, to lose them so quickly? But Nelvel had no time to be concerned by the lackey''s mysterious dentition, as the whip he''d strike them with if they walked too slowly, was far more worrying. Seven-Teeth''s squinted eyes were mean and sharp, and while there was no doubt he was a simpleton, Nelvel had to admit there was one thing the lackey excelled in ¨C whipping slaves as soon as they slightly deviated from orders. They disembarked and one of them, probably still sleepy, almost fell from the docks and risked dragging with him in the sea the line of chained slaves. He received a proper beating from Seven-Teeth before they resumed their march. The market turned out to be right next to the port ¨C unsurprisingly, it was huge. Nelvel had already heard all about the market of Akilne, where many people from the coastal cities of the Grey Sea came to sell their goods, slaves among them, but seeing it in person was unnerving. Most slaves here were destined to work in the fields or the mines, whereas the slave trade in Ocia revolved around domestic and pleasure slaves, or skilled labour for the jewellers, goldsmiths and dyers. It wasn''t especially strange, for Ocia to be amongst the richest towns in the world despite also being the smallest city-state of Viera. It was a key location of the main sea route, after all, and what they lacked in cultivable lands and natural resources, they easily made up for in prosperous trade. With his skill-set, Nelvel could hope to be bought for domestic purposes, and knew he''d have to be insanely unlucky to end up working the fields. Well, as far as luck is concerned, being a slave in itself is already bad enough. The merchant ¨C he had no known name, Seven-Teeth only referred to him as boss, and none of the slaves dared to ask ¨C disappeared for a moment and when he came back he led them to a small elevated platform of sorts, where the slaves could be properly displayed. Then the commerce began. Calling out to passersby and potential customers. A lady seeking a new gardener for her estate. A lord who needed more workers for his coal mines. A merchant that wanted to buy a few hands to help him carry his products. Most of the goods the slaver was successful in selling were the low-quality ones. Nelvel knew he wasn''t amongst them, but every now and then he feared he would be bought by the wrong person. Someone rich enough not to care about the price of a literate slave, and foolish enough to use him as unskilled labour... That was his fear, as shameful as it was. How low I have fallen... he let out a faint, bitter chuckle. ¡°Milord, milord,¡± the merchant called out, and Nelvel spotted a familiar figure on horseback. The young noble in red from earlier. The slaver approached the youth, rubbing his hands together and displaying a large smile. ¡°Are you interested in our goods? I saw you stealing glances, don''t be shy, milord! You want slaves of high quality, yes? Then you''ve come to the right place.¡± ¡°Have I?¡± the youth said with a smile of his own as he dismounted. ¡°I seek literate slaves, do you perchance have any?¡± The merchant seemed to have taken half a second to process the noble''s Callirian accent, but he was quick to answer with the meagre professional composure he could muster. ¡°Ouh, err, yes, literate slaves. We have them.¡± He motioned for the noble to follow him and they went to the end of the line, where the better looking slaves stood ¨C Nelvel amongst them. ¡°Milord is from Callir, I assume? Now that I think about it, I believe we shared the same ship, how funny is that, eh? First time in Akilne?¡± ¡°Mmh,¡± he grunted, dedicating all his attention to the slaves. Seven-Teeth made them open their mouth to prove that they were healthy ¨C or that at least, they had more teeth than him. The noble, in turn, examined them carefully, walking arrogantly with his hand resting on the pummel of his sword.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°M''lord doesn''t have any slave or servant with him?¡± Seven-Teeth observed before letting out a chuckle. ¡°That why he''s looking to buy? Good choice coming ''ere, good choice...¡± He then whispered something to his boss'' ear, glancing repeatedly at the noble. ¡°No, let me handle it and shut up,¡± the merchant eventually whispered back angrily to his employee, before turning to his customer and flashing a bright smile. ¡°Erhm... We''ve heard there was trouble in Callir recently. Hopefully milord is not concerned in any way, but if it were the case... I must inquire about the money.¡± The man halted his examination and pierced the merchant with his grey eyes. ¡°Are you asking whether my purse is empty?¡± ¡°If m''lord is an exiled nobleman, you understand we can''t trust purchases on credit.¡± Seven-Teeth said, snickering and ignoring the merchant''s glare. Perhaps he gets a kick out of seeing disgraced nobles or whatever... Then the lackey seemed to have found enlightenment, giving him an air of wisdom nobody could have ever expected from him. ¡°Ah, I remember you, m''lord. Saw you sellin'' these fine horses and all these swords at the Callirian port. You seem to have quite the money issues for a noble.¡± ¡°Please ignore him,¡± the slaver implored. ¡°As milord certainly guessed, he isn''t the brightest fellow around here...¡± Why, of course! Nelvel mocked in his mind. What need was there to say it out loud? Did anyone here look like they thought this stupid short man was an intellectual? If this noble really was forced to sell his collection of weapons and all that, the smart thing to do would certainly not be to point it out and taunt him... But the highborn youth showed no hint of anger and simply gave an amused grin. Though the grin was mismatched with a cold, unfriendly stare, and the combination of it managed to wipe the mocking smile off Seven-Teeth''s face. ¡°Whether I am exiled or not,¡± he said at last, ¡°rest assured. I have enough silver to buy your merchandise, cut your tongue and fingers, pull out these ignoble teeth of yours, shove it all in your intestines, then bribe the citywatch and be on my way as if nothing happened.¡± The noble kept staring at Seven-Teeth, and the short man stared back. The merchant stood there, eyes also fixed on the nobleman who may or may not have just uttered a threat. The other slaves on display remembered to inspect their hands, clothes, anything at all really, and some of them certainly seemed to find the sky interesting, all of the sudden. Only Nelvel dared to watch, wondering what would happen next. But then the youth''s intense face became a smile once again. ¡°A jest,¡± he simply said. The merchant began to chuckle, or maybe forced himself to do so, and Seven-Teeth gave an awkward laugh. Yet the noble kept smiling and looking at the short bastard even after they all stopped laughing. The slaver probably noticed it because he interposed himself and incited his customer to turn his attention back to the slaves. ¡°W-well, all is good, all is good. As long as we can do business, we shan''t be rude to anyone, whether they''re exiled foreigners or not.¡± ¡°That is a relief,¡± the noble said cheerfully. ...For you, or for them? ¡°So, do you have slaves that can handle accountancy and Vieran law? They would need to learn foreign languages too.¡± ¡°Err... A complicated request you have there, milord.¡± ¡°I know. I''ve asked two others merchants before, in vain. It is getting tiresome.¡± The slaver glanced over the slaves, and motioned for a handful of them to step forward. Nelvel amongst them. ¡°These ones can write and read. I don''t know much about languages though. Err...¡± He grabbed a bunch of scrolls and went through them quickly, then pointed to some tanned and skinny man. ¡°He... comes from the Dominion, and speaks their tongue.¡± He then walked a bit, looked at Nelvel and nodded. ¡°This one knows Daeli and Paarese.¡± The noble raised a brow. ¡°Oh. Let''s see.¡± He approached Nelvel and stared at him for a bit. ¡°Is that true?¡± he asked in broken Daeli. Nelvel answered in the same language. ¡°Yes. I worked as a translator for a merchant before I was enslaved.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± He nodded, then spoke in Paarese with a strong accent. ¡°You must have experience with trade and numbers then, good. What about commercial law?¡± ¡°I''ve only received basic instruction in law, but I''m a fast learner,¡± he replied confidently in Paarese. The slaver had the happiest smile Nelvel had ever seen. ¡°See, milord? He''s really good, right? Fifty silver coins, and he''s yours.¡± Then he glanced at Nelvel and whispered coldly. ¡°What did you say? I hope you didn''t mess up.¡± It seemed to Nelvel that the noble had heard that, and for some reason he now had an air of malice in his eyes. The slave was about to answer the merchant with pride, as he knew he spoke an almost perfect Daeli, and that his Paarese was on par with natives'', but the young highborn scoffed. ¡°Bah! Fifty? More like twenty. His Daeli is average at best, and my horse could speak a better Paarese than him. Are you taking me for a fool, or do you really have no clue about what the slave said?¡± Nelvel felt the heat and the blood reach his head. That blue-blooded bastard. He was the one who could barely pronounce a word of Daeli, and yet he dared mocking him... The merchant, of course, looked confused for a bit, and then angry. At Nelvel or at the customer, or perhaps both. ¡°Is this a bad joke?¡± he squealed, glancing back and forth at the customer and at Nelvel, but the latter still had no idea who he was addressing. ¡°I can offer you twenty-five for him,¡± the noble said. ¡°It is generous, considering you thieves tried to trick me. But if you''re not interested, I guess I''ll check the rest of the market. I''m sure I can find a slave really worth that absurd price somewhere else.¡± ¡°Ye'' callin'' us thieves?¡± Seven-Teeth slurred. ¡°Ain''t it just cause you got no money left for him?¡± ¡°Money is not the issue. Your lack of honesty and honour are, however. Would you rather have me bellowing that this booth here is held by crooks and tricksters? That''d be bad for your business, but I don''t mind.¡± Nelvel was stunned by the noble''s words. Do slavers have honour, to begin with? ¡°Forty!¡± the merchant spat. ¡°He''s in good shape, he can carry your stuff.¡± ¡°No need, my horse is strong enough. Thirty.¡± The slaver shook his head. ¡°Thirty-five!¡± ¡°Thirty,¡± the noble insisted, and his voice now sounded like a growl. ¡°And you will accept, because if you don''t, I''ll make it known that you tried to sell an overpriced slave to a fine, respectable nobleman like me, after mocking me.¡± He glanced at Seven-Teeth and the short man pursed his lips. ¡°If we do have an agreement, however, I would be in a sufficiently good mood afterward for you to expect me to, say, casually babble about the great service provided here...¡± They didn''t really have much choice. Not that they would be in trouble with the law if his threats weren''t empty, but no matter what he said, the word would spread, and would definitely reach potential customers of noble birth. Better agree to his demands and have good publicity, than refuse and get badmouthed in return. Yet Nelvel felt something was wrong. Why would the noble still want to buy him, if he really was displeased? If he indeed had money, why not look for a slave that fulfilled his requirements? Surely there were some in the vast market of Akilne. ¡°Fine. Thirty,¡± the merchant eventually grumbled. Whether or not he felt something was strange too, he ended up swallowing his pride, probably preferring to avoid any risk. ¡°Done.¡± They took care of the paperwork, and once the contracts were signed, silver passed from one purse to another. Nelvel was unchained and finally, he could rub his sore wrists and ankles after all this time. The noble walked back to him, gave him a nod, and once he had mounted his horse, motioned for Nelvel to follow him. ¡°My, my,¡± the youth finally said once they began to wander around the market, ¡°merchants these days have no sense of business whatsoever... How low has fallen the honourable slaver profession, for them not to be aware of their merchandise''s worth...¡± Nelvel had no idea if the man was serious when he used the word honourable. He stopped walking, and his master looked back. ¡°Why did you even buy me?¡± the slave asked, too curious. He was angry, of course, but relieved at the same time ¨C he had been chosen for his literacy, so at least he would probably not be doing physical labour. ¡°What''s your name?¡± ¡°...Nelvel.¡± The noble grunted in acknowledgment and motioned for him to keep walking. He gave a faint smile once Nelvel had caught up to his horse. ¡°I bought you because your mastery of the Daeli and Paarese tongues is exceptional. My own speech may not be the best yet, but I can recognise a good speaker when I hear one. I reckon they could have sold you for sixty or seventy silver, perhaps, if they knew what they were doing.¡± ¡°Then why-¡± ¡°Because I could,¡± he answered flatly before Nelvel could finish his question. ¡°Because a merchant not even aware of his slaves'' capabilities doesn''t deserve to earn that much money. And because I somewhat disliked this toothless creature he seemed to be employing.¡± ¡°Right...¡± Nelvel stared at his feet, at loss for words. This new master of him seemed like a cunning one, that much was certain. Whether it''s a good or bad thing... ¡°You said you weren''t born a slave, but got enslaved. Pirates?¡± Nelvel nodded. ¡°In the south. I, and the rest of the crew, advised against sailing there, but our boss didn''t listen.¡± The noble shrugged. ¡°Southern seas, eh. Then he was an idiot, and he had it coming.¡± And what about us? Nelvel had never thought once that he deserved the slave life, but he would not bother to argue with his master. Shit. The mere thought of calling someone master made him sick, but he had started to do it naturally. Come to think of it, I didn''t see nor hear under what name the ownership contract was signed. ¡°By the way, master...¡± Nelvel forced himself to ask, ¡°how should I call you?¡± ¡°Oh, that''s right. Let''s see...¡± He seemed to think for a bit, which was puzzling. Does he not know his own name? ¡°Mmh.¡± The youth smiled at last. It was a sly smile, one a mischievous child could make. ¡°The name''s Demnir. Nice to meet you.¡± Here Be Liars - Chapter 23 ¡°And humankind came to know these ancient, nameless gods lurking in the Abyss, corrupting the hearts and minds of men with their silent whispers, their unspoken promises, their voiceless temptations. The virtuous souls who saw through their lies deemed them unworthy of being called gods, and to differentiate them from the true deities, they decided on a more befitting name ¨C primordial demons. -scriptures of Pelirise¡± * * * Rina When she woke up that morning, a single tear was rolling on her cheek. She raised a tired hand to rub her eyes and hide them from the faint sunlight coming through the gap in the curtains, until she got used to it. Then she laid still, in her bed, for some time, until a servant came knocking at her door. ¡°Good morning, young mistress,¡± said Aiga with her usual cheerfulness. ¡°Have you slept well?¡± Rina kept staring at the ceiling. ¡°I dreamt of a man in red, with hair as bright as the sun...¡± she simply muttered. ¡°What''s that?¡± the maid asked absently as she brought a trail with fruits and tea on the table. ¡°...Nothing.¡± Rina glanced at Aiga, saw her standing still by the door, and gave her a nod as a way of dismissal. She yawned and stretched, and shivered under her light nightgown. Slipped a housecoat on, neared the table, and stared into the tea. Right. Before taking her seat, she went to search for a small wooden box at the back of the cupboard, and took out a couple of small phials containing powders and plant extracts. Strychnine now, and then nightshade in the evening. She poured a bit of the former in her tea, and hid back the box and the poisons. The one made from night berries would make her sleepy and so she had developed the habit of taking it before going to bed, whereas strychnine seeds had the strange consequence, as she realised, of making her more active and attentive to small details. Rina had first noticed it when she poisoned herself in the council room, and during the following weeks, came to understand that the plants were the cause. Since then, it came naturally to her that it would be stupid not to make the most of the side effects. Being vigorous in the morning and finding sleep easily at the end of her stressful days were a convenient boon adding to her poison tolerance. I wonder if Astrael noticed it, too. She took a bite from a fruit and glanced at the door. ¡°Aiga,¡± she called out, and a moment later, the maid entered. ¡°You called, young mistress?¡± Rina nodded. ¡°What is today''s agenda?¡± Aiga thought for a split second. ¡°You have mass in the afternoon, as usual. Before that, you''ll be introduced to your new fencing master.¡± ¡°That would be sir Leon, I believe?¡± ¡°...No,¡± she said after another short pause. ¡°A gentleman going by the name of Bert, if I''m not mistaken.¡± Hearing that, Rina couldn''t help but snort, earning a puzzled look from the servant. Is it because Leon is still unwell, or because Phiramel has started to doubt him? Then she gazed blankly at the ground, her head tilted. No, isn''t Bert with the Feanir family, first and foremost? I could take advantage of that. Aiga interrupted her thoughts by clearing her throat. ¡°Young mistress?¡± ¡°Mh, carry on.¡± ¡°Err...¡± The maid thought yet again for a moment. ¡°Other than that, I believe the morning is yours. You have letters, however. If you wish for me to read them out loud.¡± Rina motioned for her to do so, and kept sipping her tea. She glanced at the seal on the first letter Aiga was about to open, and stopped her. ¡°Anything from the Callirian houses, we''ll see later.¡± Dealing with the nobles was work, and work should wait until she was fully awake. Most of these letters were simply flattery and praises and whatnot, but if they happened to contain even the slightest hint of distrust toward Phiramel, she had to know. It could be a metaphor, it could be subtly implied, or, hell, it could even be written as poetry or whatever. She''d need her undivided attention. ¡°In that case,¡± Aiga said as she went through the letters. ¡°...Ah, a message from your family, I believe.¡± Rina flashed a faint smile, and stretched her arm. ¡°I read this one myself.¡± The maid gave her the letter without a word. ¡°Next is a letter from Akilne,¡± Aiga stated with a confused frown. ¡°It is addressed to you personally.¡± Vierans... Rina studied the sealed scroll in the maid''s hands. Is this a trick? Perhaps they coated the letter in poison. She forced herself to avoid meeting her maid''s eyes. ...What if it really is the case? But she figured guilt wouldn''t help anyone at this point. ¡°Who sent it?¡± she eventually asked, still staring at the piece of paper. ¡°A certain... Demnir? Curious name.¡± Huh. Rina froze for a moment, and did not realise the strange expression she was probably making until she saw Aiga''s. ¡°Young mistress?¡± she asked in an uneasy voice. ¡°Yes, yes. Give me this one, too.¡± ¡°But...¡± Aiga grimaced. ¡°Vierans, young mistress... It must be a provocation or a letter of insult. I should perhaps inform his excellency Phiramel...¡± ¡°You''ll do no such thing,¡± Rina said, and despite the smile she displayed, her commanding voice must have betrayed her annoyance. She''ll ask, Rina predicted, and so she spoke first. ¡°He is a family friend, whom I haven''t seen ever since I left my village, because he went to live in Akilne.¡± ¡°I see...¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Aiga didn''t look that convinced, so Rina painted another layer of falsehood. ¡°He is probably writing about how awful it is, as a Callirian, to live amongst Vierans and assassins. Perhaps some misfortune happened to him because of these filthy foreigners, in which case it is a private matter that concerns only his close ones, such as me.¡± The maid promptly bowed in apology and handed out the letter, either because it was enough to persuade her, or because she dared not to oppose Rina any longer. ¡°Should I fetch quill and paper for your reply, young mistress?¡± she asked while Rina hurriedly broke the seal and went through the parchment. Then glanced at Aiga and nodded. Once the maid was gone, she read the letter once again with more care, and, she was sure, a more quizzical expression. ¡°Good day, I have settled in Akilne for the time being, with the intent to open a business of mine. It is a childish wish I have been contemplating for some time, I reckon, but let me assure you that it will contribute to our commerce. I expect I''ll be meeting all manner of travellers, forge many unseemly friendships, and gather tales from all around the world. I write to you with a favour to ask. For my trade to prosper adequately, I shall like for you to send me shipments of iron and coal once you have acquired the necessary ally. Best of luck.¡± She let the piece of paper fall on the table and rubbed her forehead. This was the first letter from her brother ever since he left Callir, and it wasn''t exactly how she had imagined it would be, even though she knew it would have been wrong and strange for him to write anything else. But she figured he would write in a code of sorts, convey his messages through someone else''s, or at least disguise whatever request he had in some way. She wasn''t expecting a straightforward letter to her name. Oh. Rina closed her eyes and sighed. And neither is Phiramel. Even though she had heard about ways to open seals without leaving a trace, she had no idea whether the high-priest had her letters checked for hints about her brother''s whereabouts, but if it was the case, this one would be hard to miss. Rina remembered her geography lessons, and the talk about natural resources. Iron and coal are mined throughout the entire city-state of Akilne... But one freshly arrived Callirian, with no Vieran friends or vast amounts of money, for instance, would have trouble to get his hands on these resources without relying on his compatriots. If Phiramel has already read that, then he must certainly know by now, she thought. Iron and coal were also mined in the city-state of Callir, and had made the fortune of one house in particular ¨C it did not take a genius to understand that the soon-to-be ally mentioned in the letter was none other than Laurentias Feanir, whose ancestors had turned earthly ores in wealth and silver. At least he had bothered to take a different name. But no matter how she looked at this, it seemed like a massive gamble. Her brother was betting on one of two possibilities ¨C that Phiramel was betting, in turn, on the assumption that Astrael himself would use subtle and ingenious methods of communication. Perhaps the high-priest is looking through the window right now, watching for birds making suspicious circles in the sky, or whatever... Or perhaps Astrael meant for him to read it. Perhaps he was baiting the high-priest somehow... ¡°No,¡± Rina muttered as she rose from her seat before getting dressed. ¡°Wouldn''t he have made it more obvious? And there isn''t much to bait anyway.¡± Phiramel wouldn''t be able to do much. Callirian arms no longer reach very far in Vieran territory. Once she was wearing her usual crimson robes, she left her room. Four knights were standing outside, and their healthy faces told Rina they just began their shift, the previous group probably already asleep by now. Since she still had an hour before her lesson with Bert, she thought about going to the library in the meantime. She could read her other letters here, and do some research while she was there. It could not hurt to learn more about Callirian history, and there was a lot she did not know, especially when it came to the nobility. She would have never guessed, for instance, that the Feanir house used to have strong ties with the last few kings here ¨C until her brother told her, and until elder Therenus mentioned it in his final speech. Astrael also suggested that the Feanir family could have been part of the royal house, in the distant past... she thought as she walked toward the stairs, before catching a glimpse of something interesting in the corner of her eye. Speak of the devil. Leon Feanir, an angry frown ruining his handsome figure, had just exited Phiramel''s chambers. She only had time to hear some raging bellowing coming from the inside, while a servant hurriedly closed the door. A faint smile crept up on her face, but she suppressed it immediately. Rina and her court stopped, the captain of the bloodsguard noticed them. ¡°Sir Leon,¡± she greeted with a nod, and he nodded back. ¡°Is everything fine?¡± she asked in a gentle tone, thought it was clear to anyone present here that nothing was fine. ¡°No...¡± Leon began sharply, but he paused and shook his head. ¡°Forgive me, young mistress. I know it is not your fault, but this matter with your brother...¡± Rina glanced sideways and acted the part of a girl that felt guilty for her sibling''s sins and misdeeds. ¡°A-apologies,¡± she stuttered. ¡°Do not blame yourself for it,¡± he corrected as she knew he would. ¡°It pains me to say so, but perhaps he grew jealous of you. That would certainly explain it. Though whatever his reasons, I say it again, the blame isn''t on you.¡± ¡°What... what did his excellency want, if I may ask?¡± ¡°Oh...¡± Leon pursed his lips. ¡°As you know, I had your brother enter my household. His excellency sees Astrael''s treachery as my responsibility, and I would not argue with that opinion. It is indeed my mistake for being blind to his act and his lies...¡± ¡°You could not have guessed,¡± Rina argued. ¡°You and I were both tricked.¡± ¡°I know, and there was no reason to doubt him, when he came to me and asked for a horse. How could I have objected, when he spoke of a family matter?¡± She nodded yet again. At the time, the only people who knew that Astrael wasn''t in need of a horse because he had to return to the village were Rina, Phiramel, and Astrael himself. Rina played her role and made it seem as if she had been fooled like everyone else, and while Phiramel had sent pursuers as soon as possible, they had gotten no word from the riders until the next day. Then again, only their corpses were found, and Astrael had stolen their gear, silver, and valid horses. That was a month ago, and the last they heard of him was that he had gotten on a ship sailing north. Nobody should be expecting him to hide in Akilne, when he could have passed through Ocia and fled to Dael or wherever else he wished... ¡°Still,¡± Leon kept on, ¡°now my good will is being doubted. His excellency is starting to wonder whether my father and I were truly unaware of your brother''s intentions.¡± ¡°Dear gods,¡± Rina muttered. ¡°But... you would never...¡± ¡°I would never indeed, I swear it on my life, young mistress, but I''m afraid the high-priest suspects otherwise,¡± he said through his teeth, clenching his fists. Rina reached for his hands and held them gently. ¡°I believe you, sir Leon,¡± she said with a timid smile, and she would almost feel embarrassed by her own words. ¡°I trust you, the captain of my guard, with my life. I know not why or what my brother was thinking, but I am sure you have nothing to do with this. Had you been plotting against me, you would have encountered no trouble in harming me.¡± And then she glanced at his leg, where he had received a blade that was destined to her. He wasn''t using the wooden crutch anymore, but the careful eye would still notice his limp. ¡°I did not, and shall not, ever, forget what you did.¡± ¡°As I''ve said many times, young mistress, it is simply my duty.¡± ¡°Then know this, Leon Feanir.¡± She glanced around, and made sure that the other knights were listening. ¡°People may doubt you, and they may accuse you, but I won''t. I shall honour duty and loyalty properly, and I shall vouch for the knights who are sworn to me.¡± ¡°...Young mistress,¡± Leon muttered. She wasn''t sure whether his dazzled expression and his submissive behaviour were genuine or not, but she would certainly not give him the benefit of the doubt. He is probably just being careful around me, she surmised. And he will keep doing so as long as he doesn''t know where I stand. For him to trust her, she had to show him that she wasn''t merely the puppet of Phiramel, but a possible contender. Yes, she realised. She would let him believe that he could groom her into becoming a more trustworthy leader than the current one. ¡°Today, I may be but a powerless girl. But do not forget that I have been chosen by Xito. One day, I will be able to repay your loyalty, and that day is close.¡± Her consecration was only a few weeks away, now. Phiramel could try to delay it a bit longer, but it would only serve to unnerve his allies by showing them how hard he was trying to stay in control. In any case, this was enough for the moment. She glanced around once more, tried to see through the faces of the knights. Leon aside, they weren''t willing to display their appreciation so easily. But the slight frowns of some betrayed that they were lost in thought, while the faint smiles of others hinted at their hopes. And other details. The blinking of their eyes, their breathing, the scent of their sweat. The strychnine has kicked in, she understood. She could almost smell the steel they wore, hear their beating hearts, and more importantly, her own. Her muscles would soon start to twitch, and the urge to exercise would follow quickly. I suppose I''ll read later. ¡°Now, excuse me, sir Leon,¡± Rina said, still smiling. She would let him, and the others, sleep on her suggestion for the time being. Insisting would be too obvious, perhaps even suspicious. ¡°I have sword practise to attend.¡± Here Be Liars - Chapter 24 ¡°Neral of the Dark was a fierce Daeli commander, whose achievements could only be compared to those his ancestor, Dael himself, is famous for. The details were lost with the ages, but Neral was known for fighting his battles at night, using unpredictable tactics and revolutionary strategies to challenge and overcome disadvantageous odds. The legend says that he received a blessing from Atharemine ¨C eyes capable of seeing through darkness as if it was daytime. Some still wonder if he was a chosen of the night goddess, in which case he must have had a reason to hide it from everyone. -Tarhas, History of the Known World¡± * * * Ezveril She gazed at the sails dyed in purple and gold spread across the strait. Ocia''s navy was imposing, and surely it must have been even more intimidating for the ships coming from the Grey Sea. Paarese ships and their yellow sails returning to their homeland, but also boats coming from all over the eastern world ¨C from Tehen, from the Summer Dominion, even from beyond, perhaps. Not that anyone is passing through the strait, now, she thought as she glanced once more at the blockage before studying the port. Ezveril spotted a large ship, also with yellow sails, but she knew this one wasn''t transporting merchandise. This one belonged to the Paarese delegation. Hilne walked to her side, one hand resting on the pummel of her sword, the sun shining against her breastplate. ¡°We should get back to the palace, your highness. They''re probably there already.¡± She motioned for the carriage behind them, and Ezveril silently complied. They left the port and Ezveril watched the streets through the carriage''s windows. That extravagant display of wealth and flesh she saw in the palace when she first arrived, two moons ago, was nowhere to be seen. Sure, this old yet elegant sir riding his horse, for instance, was certainly rich ¨C Ezveril guessed it from the servants accompanying him, from the bodyguard at his side, from the velvet doublet he wore. But there was no courtesan walking with him, no jug of wine held in his hands, no bellowing or cackling. And this young girl here, she was doing a honest work. Carrying water for her family, surely, instead of shaming her name by selling her body. She would have liked to step out of the carriage and help that girl, perhaps out of genuine kindness, perhaps out of desire. Desire to be acknowledged by the inhabitants of Ocia. Tomorrow, she promised herself. There''s no time today. ¡°You seem happy, princess,¡± Hilne observed. ¡°I expected you to be nervous because of the meeting.¡± ¡°I am nervous,¡± Ezveril said before glancing away from the streets and staring at her knight. ¡°And I am relieved, too. The people in the palace, and the people in town... They have very different lives.¡± Hilne gave a faint sigh and smiled. ¡°You may have heard many things about Ocia and the Vieran cities, your highness. Some are merely rumours. Some are true in regard to certain places, and false for others. More often than not, the world isn''t as simple as people make it out to be.¡± ¡°...I wonder if the Vieran temples are indeed brothels as they say,¡± she said, but Hilne''s stoic expression somewhat answered her question. The knight replied nonetheless. ¡°I do not know.¡± ¡°What does the goddess think about these practises?¡± she kept on, frowning. ¡°About courtesans and concubines being called priestesses of Viera?¡± ¡°It is a question for priests and churchmen, your highness. You cannot deem their culture and their traditions improper simply because they don''t fit your views. Viera is the goddess of pleasure and beauty, in the end.¡± ¡°...You''re right,¡± Ezveril eventually said, looking at her feet. She could dislike their ways if she wanted to, but to her knowledge Ocia had never brought the gods'' wrath upon itself. It isn''t Viera who is offended, but me. It was unbecoming of her. The nervousness got to her, that she was aware of. The carriage climbed the hill where the palace was overlooking the city, and at the gates they found another carriage ¨C not lady Atricia''s, nor lord Vierodel''s. The Paarese, she guessed. The guards at the entrance bowed as she went in, something they had begun to do only recently. She repressed a faint smile as she saw some of them still eyeing Hilne with a mix of awe and wariness. As far as Ezveril was concerned, her dear lady Neraldes had always attracted the curiosity of the many swordsmen she met. They looked at her and saw a woman worthy of admiration, or disdain, or sometimes both. It''s been some time since I saw such faces. The people in Dael had grown used to seeing Hilne, or at least they knew her by reputation, and were less surprised when they met her. In the palace, a servant found them and confirmed their suspicions. The Paarese delegation had called for a meeting, and the Vieran regency was already here. They were all waiting for Ezveril, even though they shouldn''t require the presence of a little girl to begin their negotiations. In front of the doors leading to the meeting room, Hilne placed a hand on Ezveril''s shoulder. ¡°Don''t forget,¡± she warned, as if she was reading her mind, ¡°once you step inside this room, you represent the crown-prince, and they are aware of it. They''ll still see you as a puppet, and you''ll let them believe that, but keep in mind one important thing, your highness. The ruler of this city isn''t Atricia, or her son, it is you, they simply don''t know it yet. Speak very little, but lend an attentive ear.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, then turned the door handle and entered. Vierodel of Ocia was laying conformably on a divan, playing with his hair, while his mother stood by the many arched windows and stared down at the city. Saerge Segheon was here, too, and he seemed like the only person in the room who was ready to deal with the group of displeased Paarese sitting on the divans in front of him. ¡°Ah,¡± lord Segheon exclaimed, ¡°your highness, we were waiting for you.¡± ¡°I was taking a stroll in town, apologies.¡± ¡°Well, now we can begin,¡± a middle-aged Paarese said in Vieran, as he got up and bowed. Probably the chief of the delegation. ¡°It is an honour to meet you, princess Ezveril. I happen to be Jehon of Paar, envoy of his majesty the king.¡± The king of Paar, she commented silently, as they exchanged greetings. Ezveril was introduced to the others ¨C they didn''t matter, she knew that Jehon was the one in charge. They sat back, and Hilne stood behind, her back against the wall, her ever-alert eyes watching the whole room. ¡°Let''s cut to the chase,¡± Jehon kept on as he stroke his mustache, and the lone patch of black hair on his chin. ¡°It would appear that our ships, and all manner of ships bound for Paar, in fact, have somehow encountered trouble as they tried to pass through your beautiful city.¡± ¡°Ah?¡± Vierodel said nonchalantly. Jehon glanced at him once but paid him little attention after that.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°When my compatriots and me docked in Ocia earlier this afternoon,¡± the Paarese said with a fake smile plastered on his face, ¡°we couldn''t help but notice the blockade on the strait.¡± ¡°Vieran ships, if I recall,¡± one of his advisors added, to which Jehon nodded. His fake smile widened. Atricia of Ocia gazed away from the windows at last, and shrugged. ¡°Yes,¡± she said in her singing, almost merry voice, ¡°perhaps you''ve heard of the recent events in Callir. Things have escalated, we fear there might be a war breaking out with them in the near future.¡± Jehon''s eyes were also smiling now. But Ezveril knew it was fake, too. Two black dots half hidden in these slits. ¡°I see, a most worrisome situation. But I fail to see how it concerns Paarese ships?¡± ¡°Mmh...¡± Atricia let a languid grunt escape from between her purple lips, and shrugged yet again. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Saerge Segheon pitched in, ¡°we''ve discovered that the Callirian enemy was using yellow sails, among other colours, and had started to pass themselves as Paarese or Daeli ships. We could not take the risk of letting usurpers enter the Middle Sea or the Vieran ports, so we took action.¡± Ezveril knew not if what Saerge said was true, but she was aware the blockade had nothing to do with Callirian ships. It was all about Paar, and everyone in the room knew it, especially the Paarese. Vierodel took a fig between two nimble fingers and threw it in his mouth. ¡°You understand that the safety of the Vieran city-states is of...¡± he paused and munched loudly. ¡°...capital importance, for us Vierans.¡± ¡°As is the strait of Ocia for us Paarese,¡± Jehon said tensely. He paused, looked at Ezveril, and this time he had his fake smile back. ¡°Tell me, your highness, has your honourable father told you about this?¡± Ezveril gave a fake smile of her own and shook her head. ¡°I''m sure you had competent teachers in Dael. They must have told you that we Paarese have to import most of the grains and wheat we eat.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she said innocently. ¡°Everyone knows that. Paar is a country rich in ores, but lacking enough arable lands for its population.¡± ¡°And, surely, they also taught you all about the trade route. Going from the eastern cities and the Dominion, passing through the Grey Sea, then Ocia, then the Middle Sea... And eventually reaching the kingdom of Paar, the theocracy of Irixil, and your native country, the kingdom of Dael.¡± The way Jehon spoke and how he treated her condescendingly annoyed her, but she wouldn''t let it show. She would not frown, nor would she clench her fists or purse her lips. He would notice it. He must be doing it on purpose. Vierodel, on the other hand, didn''t bother to hide his displeasure. ¡°I''m sure there''s a point you wish to make,¡± he said, ¡°and I believe you were the one who said to cut to the chase...¡± ¡°Out with it then,¡± said Jehon of Paar, who directed his glare toward lady Atricia. ¡°You made a deal with Arthian Agelien. In exchange for an alliance, you''re to prevent food shipments from reaching our kingdom. Dael perhaps hopes to weaken and pressure Paar, but you should all know that we won''t stay quiet. Ocia has been neutral for a long time, and it has allowed everyone to prosper. Now, you''ve sold away this neutrality by complying to prince Agelien''s demands.¡± He glanced at Ezveril as he said that last line. As if she was the guilty party in all that. She couldn''t help but sigh. ¡°It''s only a matter of time, the route shall reopen as soon as the matter with Callir is settled. Why don''t you cross from one sea to another by land, meanwhile?¡± Jehon said nothing, but he probably thought some insult deep down. His advisor, however didn''t stay silent. ¡°Cross how?¡± he spat. ¡°The other Vieran city-states will just follow your example, they won''t let foreign caravans cross their lands, because of so-called Callirians in disguise.¡± She acted flustered, and was quick to suggest another way she knew to be impossible. ¡°Why don''t you take a detour through the Southern Seas then? Surely the mighty Paarese have the means to defend their ships against pirates.¡± Pirates were the least of their problems. The Paarese weren''t on friendly terms with the Crescent Isles, and their navy could probably block any ship coming from the southern seas if they wanted to. If the Paarese somehow managed to sail through the south. Pirates were bad enough for unguarded ships, but Ezveril had heard other tales. Explosions under the sea creating immense waves, curses and inhuman whispers causing the sailors to turn mad... Nobody really knew what caused these ships to disappear, but one thing was sure ¨C they disappeared. It got worse near the coast, where the old temple of Viera supposedly stood once. Anyone sailing further south would encounter more pirates, and more importantly, lose more time. The Paarese had no time to spare. ¡°We will give you a week,¡± Jehon of Paar said after a short silence, not even bothering to answer Ezveril. ¡°By then, you must decide. Allow our shipments to pass through your city, or turn this foolishness into a diplomatic incident and make an enemy out of Paar. Think carefully, and choose wisely.¡± Jehon and his group rose from their seats and left the room shortly thereafter. Before long, Atricia went somewhere, but not without giving Ezveril a glare first. ¡°Would you like for us to dine together, this evening?¡± Vierodel asked her with his usual smile. ¡°Ah, of course,¡± she replied in kind. ¡°Thank you for the invitation.¡± ¡°I''ll be expecting you at sunset then.¡± Finally, only Hilne, Saerge Segheon, and herself were still in the room. Lord Segheon approached her, and she could smell a perfume of sorts on him. The same the pleasure slaves wore. ¡°Are you worried, your highness?¡± ¡°No,¡± she said flatly. ¡°This is all going according to my father''s plan, isn''t it?¡± ¡°Most certainly. Our guest good lord Jehon was smart enough to understand that we wouldn''t budge. Or rather, I think he never expected anything from us to begin with.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°He gave us a week, as if we had something to discuss about. This meeting was a joke, we only held it for appearance''s sake. The Paarese want it to look like they tried to negotiate before taking up arms. They want the foreign onlookers to see Paar as the provoked party, not as the aggressor.¡± Do they want to appear righteous? Ezveril shrugged. ¡°But they''ll definitely aggress, in the end.¡± ¡°Of course. It''s as your father wishes it to be. Paar will use this week to make preparations, if they haven''t done so already, and they will try to regain control of Ocia before it''s too late. Before they are forced to attack the neighbouring countries to conquer more land and food.¡± Ezveril frowned. Her father wanted them to attack ¨C either Dael, or the Theocracy, or the Crescent Isles. By breaking the pact of non-aggression, Paar would be surrounded, with enemies on all fronts. Then it was only a matter of time until the Paarese king surrendered, and his territories shared between the victors. After that, Arthian Agelien would perhaps do the same trick again. Ezveril knew her father wouldn''t stop with Paar. He would go on, he would make new allies, and provoke another rival nation, force it into an impossible situation, break it, consume it at last. And each time, Dael would grow ¨C until the Middle Sea came under her father''s control. Ocia is the key in all that. Hilne had explained her already that the reason the Daeli didn''t take it by force, but by forging an alliance, was to avoid provoking the other Vieran cities. If Ocia was sieged, the other Vieran armies would come to its rescue, no doubt. And it would spur all manner of feelings in the independents'' hearts. They would rather avoid having to deal with Vieran rebels, in addition to the Paarese army. Ezveril didn''t need the military knowledge of Hilne to understand that. It was much better to have the Paarese use force first, therefore earning the wrath of the Vierans. ¡°The Paarese will try everything before resorting to force,¡± lord Segheon carried on. ¡°And after everything fails ¨C and it will, because we are expecting it ¨C they''ll most likely be sieging the city. When this fails, too, because of the combined Vieran and Daeli armies coming to Ocia''s rescue, Paar will face a dilemma. Ask for foreign help, or try to conquer land and be crushed. I wonder what it will be...¡± ¡°Either way, it will be the end of their sovereignty,¡± she concluded, and Saerge nodded. Ezveril couldn''t help but think that it was cruel. Still, nothing could be done about it. And even if her father hadn''t put his plan in motion, someone else would have had the same idea eventually. Ocia was the key to a vast treasure of opportunities, and that key had been laying unclaimed for a very long time. Better us than anyone else. Needless to say, corrupting Ocia''s allegiance, or lack thereof, would probably not have been possible without the current lady-regent. Or rather, not without her twisted honour and her hunger for power. The Vieran cities had always resisted the influence of the western nations, hence their reputation of neutrality, but the crown-prince of Dael had found the right ally at the right time. Ezveril stole a glance at Hilne Neraldes. Nobody had ever talked about what would happen, if the Paarese were to succeed in their siege, or find another way to take control of Ocia. She guessed ¨C she knew, deep down ¨C that this was also the reason they had sent her, the fourth princess, and not someone more important. The reason her father had sent a daughter he did not care about, instead of her older sister, or an unmarried eldest son from a prominent family. Lady Atricia would have surely agreed to remarry with someone who would actually inherit something. But then again, important heirs were important assets that shouldn''t be gambled with. Whereas Ezveril had a few siblings before her on the succession line, and a large gathering of half-siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles still lurking around. Perhaps it was a groundless worry. Perhaps these black, dark thoughts were only the result of her nervousness. Still, she was wondering. If Ocia is sacked, and I die, who will care? Here Be Liars - Chapter 25 ¡°Exiled from their own lands, they fled across the world ¨C until they found a place they could call home. Here, they learned to live again, and struggled to regain what was lost. -Scriptures of Viera¡± * * * Demnir The room was filled with stuffed animals. Harts, boars, foxes and birds. Even the paintings on the walls depicted hunting scenes. Demnir had absorbed it all the moment he entered the room, but right now his attention was directed elsewhere. He watched carefully the face of the man before him, whose eyes were darting left and right as he read the contract and glanced at the diagrams. Each and every change in the man''s eyes, he caught with his own. From the faintest frown to the slightest gleam, and even the details of his face. The almost invisible wrinkles on his forehead and around the corners of his mouth, the occasional greying hair. The lord eventually looked up and gazed at Demnir. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, nodding, ¡°yes, that will do.¡± Demnir beamed a large smile. ¡°Wonderful, lord Keadon. You can expect to hear from us in a fortnight or so.¡± They both got up from their seats and after exchanging farewells, Demnir left the lord''s estate. As he crossed the gardens, he saw Nelvel waiting for him at the gates, the reins of a horse in one hand. ¡°How did it go?¡± the slave asked. Demnir mounted, and thought about the diagrams that had just convinced lord Keadon to spend a rather large amount of money. Despite his apparent enthusiasm, something wasn''t to the lord''s liking, he knew it. Not that this customer really seemed to understand anything about crossbow making, but he probably fancied himself an expert of sorts simply because he hunted deers in his time of leisure. Probably the price of the bow and the string. Regardless... ¡°...He''ll buy,¡± Demnir simply said. Composite materials were cheaper, but also less sturdy. Most people still failed to understand the point of steel bows, and how it allowed for tremendous power ¨C therefore, they often pursed their lips when they noticed the cost and weren''t convinced by Demnir''s explanation. ¡°Akilne''s nobility seems to really have taken an interest in your new sporting crossbow,¡± the slave observed, walking beside the trotting horse of his master. ¡°Mmh,¡± he grunted. But the nobles weren''t his only customers, fortunately. Less elegant characters, the ones that would often hear and share interesting tales, had also contacted him. ¡°We''ll have to employ more smiths and woodworkers, at this rate,¡± he muttered. They spoke of accountancy and smithing costs while they returned to the city. Demnir had to admit that Nelvel''s legs were something worth admiring. The Keadon estate wasn''t that far on horseback, but was still quite the tiring walk between here and Akilne ¨C yet the slave wasn''t complaining. ¡°Let''s take a detour,¡± Demnir suggested at some point. ¡°Don''t you have appointments soon?¡± Nelvel objected. That''s precisely the reason, Demnir replied in his mind, though all Nelvel got to see was a smile. ¡°What, are you already tired?¡± ¡°No,¡± the slave assured. ¡°I can go on.¡± They left the road that ran along the farmlands and walked through the forest. Once Demnir made sure that the sun was high enough in the sky, they returned to Akilne. Upon arriving in his workshop, Demnir found two horses outside, none belonging to him or anyone he was acquainted with. And yet he was aware of the identities of these riders. Inside, one of his slaves was in a state of panic. ¡°Ah, err, master... Customers...¡± ¡°Yes, Vieric?¡± Demnir replied without much care for the nervousness of the middle-aged slave. ¡°I believe I had two more meetings today.¡± ¡°One,¡± the man with greying sideburns corrected. ¡°This Samaar fellow you were supposed to see this evening cancelled his appointment. His note said that he was, err... busy discovering the wonders of Akilne''s brothels.¡± He raised a brow. ¡°Ah, very well. What an interesting gentleman.¡± Craving the company of women after spending a long time at sea was entirely understandable, even though a week should have been plenty enough to discover most Vieran priestesses in Akilne. Perhaps Samaar liked to rediscover them... Still, a shame. He had been looking forward to hear the tales of this famous sailor ¨C some would rather say pirate ¨C who just returned from a journey in the south. Word was that Samaar was able to navigate through the cursed southern seas, and that he saw all manner of living beings, amongst them mysterious monkeys and madmen who had lost all humanity... Most people would be intrigued ¨C Demnir was especially intrigued. No worries, though. I can always meet him tomorrow. Nelvel stared at Demnir for a moment, perhaps judging him with these morals of his. Eventually, he exhaled deeply and addressed old Vieric. ¡°So... There''s only the Honourable Companions left today.¡± ¡°Which brings me to my point,¡± the older slave whispered, glancing at the stairs. ¡°Their lieutenants are upstairs, and, ehm, they were late, but you were even more late... Master, they are bandits, I say! No manners at all, this lot!¡± ¡°Shall we?¡± Demnir said as he started climbing the stairs and motioned for Nelvel to follow. ¡°Vieric, bring our guests clean cups, and wine to be poured in.¡± In the corner of his eyes, he saw the middle-aged man bowing and complying. In the large room at the upper floor, three men were waiting, two of them having apparently taken whatever ease they thought they were entitled to. The most conspicuous of them all, a very large man with messy hair and a scar going from his cheek to his lips, was sitting on a divan, his legs crossed and rested on top of the low table. He probably had one purpose in life ¨C to be intimidating. Too vulgar, Demnir thought. He glanced at the next one, who stood between the desk and the divans. An old man, with a short white beard and wax tablets under his arm. A slave, he immediately guessed. Finally, Demnir''s eyes locked themselves on the man seating at his own desk. Short and balding black hair, square jaw, and despite his aloof eyes, his grin gave him an unmistakeable air of confidence. That''s the one. He didn''t even need to see the mercenary putting a piece of paper back on the desk to know that he had been looking at some documents. Stacks of diagrams had changed places, notes had been moved, papers had been read. All according to plan, Demnir observed with satisfaction. There wasn''t a single document here that wasn''t meant to be read by these ruffians. Each was incomplete, in a way that explanations were needed to understand how they worked, but clear enough so that a curious reader would see their purpose and their novelty. ¡°I see you''ve made yourselves at home,¡± he began merrily as he neared the divans, but kept standing. His eyes still locked on the balding man. ¡°I am Demnir, and I would assume you are Zeron, captain of the Honourable Companions.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Forgive us,¡± Zeron said with a indecipherable accent. Certainly, there was the melody of the Vieran cities, the strong Daeli consonants, and the growling guttural sounds of Paar, though Demnir would have had no idea of this man''s origins, had he not researched him first. ¡°We were told you were out of town, and that we would be faced with quite the wait. The Callirian is a busy man, we''ve heard ¨C as expected of someone who earned a reputation here in such a short amount of time.¡± ¡°Well, here I am. Let us not delay business.¡± Surprisingly, Zeron rose from the chair that wasn''t his, and came to sit on the divan, next to his associate, who didn''t seem like he intended to speak a single word. Perhaps he was mute. Demnir sat in front of them, and before long Vieric brought them cups and poured them wine. Then, and only then, they spoke of arms. ¡°So... Fifteen spears,¡± Nelvel repeated as he took notes on his wax tablet, ¡°as many shields, ten sets of ring mail plus headgear to go with it, twenty crossbows, and three hundred bolts.¡± He looked up and asked Zeron, ¡°Is that correct?¡± Zeron glanced at his slave, lend his ear for the old man to whisper something in, and eventually nodded. ¡°Your bows are all steel, your strings aren''t loose, and your bolts have iron heads?¡± ¡°That would be the reason they cost so much,¡± Demnir explained, staring in the merc''s eyes. Zeron stared back, and chuckled. ¡°No, the price is of no concern. Still, I must ask ¨C would you be able to produce even more daring tools, and for an adequate cost, if we were to provide you with the necessary wood and ore?¡± Demnir squinted his eyes. Everything up until now was banter. He already knew what resources these men-at-arms had access to, but still asked for appearances'' sake. ¡°And do you have the means to provide us with said materials?¡± ¡°There are ways,¡± Zeron said mysteriously, as expected. ¡°Hmm.¡± Demnir sipped from his cup, barely bothering to hide a grin. ¡°I''m sure people in your line of work have their own ways.¡± In turn, the mercenary captain gave him a knowing smile. ¡°Indeed.¡± He got to his feet and his silent lieutenant did the same. ¡°But let''s stop here for today, right? We''ll try out these weapons of yours, and if they''re as promising as they sound, you may very well see us again, with a carriage of iron, another of wood, and the largest bag of silver you''ve ever seen.¡± ¡°A sight I would be very pleased to encounter,¡± he replied with genuine cheer in his voice. Demnir and Nelvel accompanied Zeron and his lackeys to the door, and before parting, the captain slipped one last word. ¡°You seem to know much about siege engines, despite your age,¡± he said, and Demnir knew he was referring to the documents displayed on the desk. ¡°Good day, Demnir of Callir.¡± He did not reply, and Zeron hopped on his saddle. They exchanged one last glance, and the two mercenaries steered their horses forward while the old slave walked behind. Demnir returned in his office, ordered Vieric to clean things up a bit, and put away the jugs and cups of wine. ¡°Don''t you want to celebrate?¡± Nelvel wondered. He noticed the slave still did his best to avoid calling him master. ¡°Celebrate,¡± Demnir repeated slowly, sitting at his desk and putting order in his diagrams and whatnot. ¡°We haven''t accomplished anything yet. Business is merely starting.¡± ¡°You mean the documents you left here on purpose. You''re expecting a bigger order, and a bigger pay.¡± Aren''t you a clever one. He glanced at the slave, who seemed to be judging him behind a more or less stoic face. ¡°You have keen eyes.¡± ¡°I thought it was unlikely you would forget important diagrams here, for all to see. That, and this odd detour of yours that made us arrive late...¡± Nelvel shrugged. ¡°Carelessness doesn''t suit you ¨C and if you appear careless, then it''s on purpose.¡± Demnir shifted in his seat, and rested his chin on his fist. ¡°Master,¡± Nelvel carried on, frowning and obviously having something important to say. ¡°A word, if I may.¡± ¡°You may.¡± ¡°...You are playing a dangerous game. I mean, they are an infamous mercenary band, aren''t they? Small in number, but violent.¡± ¡°Small, hence perfect for us, as we cannot satisfy too large of an order yet,¡± Demnir said, nodding, not having the faintest desire to admit that the Honourable Companions were much more than a band of sellswords, though Nelvel seemed aware of this. They don''t mind plundering when they''re on the job, and I''ve heard they dealt with pirates and slavers. It could be that Nelvel felt uneasy, as a recently enslaved individual, to deal with slavers. But this has nothing to do with why I''m interested in them, and it shouldn''t be of any concern to him either. ¡°You''re planning to sell them weaponry and siege engines that outperform the current Vieran arms,¡± Nelvel kept on, his frown still clouding his expression. ¡°I know we aren''t exactly responsible for the deaths it''ll cause, but-¡± ¡°Ha!¡± Demnir scoffed, interrupting him. Seeing Nelvel''s confused look, he chuckled once more. ¡°Murder is what we do, Nelvel. It is our trade, don''t fool yourself into thinking you have no part in it. We kill animals with the crossbows we sell to the hunters. We kill guilty men with the blades we sell to the citywatch. And we''ll kill innocent men with the weapons we''re about to sell to the Honourable Companions.¡± There was a hint of worry in Nelvel''s eyes, which he then expressed through words. ¡°What I meant... I just don''t get it. You have a successful business going on, the nobles pay well, what need is there to get involved with shady customers?¡± Money is not the point, Demnir would have wished to reply, but he simply studied the nervous frown of his slave instead. ¡°You have a knack for languages and accents,¡± he eventually said. ¡°Where do you think their captain is from?¡± Nelvel thought for a moment. Perhaps he had no idea ¨C Demnir himself would not have guessed from the accent alone. Not without a background check. Seeing that the slave failed to reply, or refused to, he gave the answer. ¡°He may fancy himself a man of the world, and enjoy sounding so, but I discovered that he sails from Paar.¡± ¡°Why is this relevant in any wa-¡± ¡°And you know Paarese. You spent time in the kingdom.¡± ¡°...I do, and I did.¡± ¡°Then I take it you''re somewhat knowledgeable about Paar and its citizens.¡± Nelvel kept silent, and Demnir went on. ¡°Have you heard about the recent events in Ocia?¡± The slave nodded. ¡°Ships that can''t cross the strait. A blockade, they say.¡± ¡°A blockade indeed,¡± Demnir said with a smile. ¡°Now, why, all of the sudden, would Ocia decide to close the strait? There was no trouble regarding the trade route for half a century, if I recall.¡± ¡°Not since the last Callirian king,¡± Nelvel muttered. Yes, Demnir thought. Last time there was trouble, it was because of the monarch doing everything to isolate Callir. Dear old Therenus did his best to rebuild the trade with the Vieran cities, but all it took to end it was an assassination attempt. The idea came across his mind the first time he heard about the blockade in Ocia, adding to his suspicions that the assassins in the temple of Xito were meant to infuriate Callir rather than eliminate Rina. Before that, there had been talks about a Daeli princess marrying into the Vieran nobility. Officially, the blockade was a way to weaken Callir before the angry followers of Xito decided to start a war in retaliation for an assassination attempt, which the Vierans kept denying they were responsible for. But then, what if they really weren''t responsible for it? What if the attempt on Rina''s life had just been a way to break the ties between the Vierans and the Callirians, so that someone else could meddle in Vieran business? Who would have the power to do so, and for what reason? If I wanted to get my claws into Ocia, getting rid of foreign influence and marrying a princess to their lord would certainly be among my preferred options... was what he had concluded back then. Perhaps whoever sent that Daeli princess in Ocia was thinking the same. If that was true, that only left a small group of suspects ¨C not many people in the whole world had enough power to pull off such a trick. Nelvel''s anxious voice pulled him out of his thoughts. ¡°Master?¡± Demnir glanced at him once again, saw anguish in his eyes. Nervous because he feared he had offended him by mentioning the king of Callir, perhaps. ¡°Nelvel,¡± he said at last, ¡°I gather there will soon be trouble in Ocia.¡± ¡°Trouble, you say...¡± ¡°Ever since they contacted us, I''ve suspected that Zeron and his merry band of professional killers could be agents of Paar. We''re not the only arms dealers they''ve met with, they''ve probably scouted all of Akilne''s city-state. Maybe similar meetings are happening in the other Vieran states. I had been wondering who the Daeli and the Vierans were trying to weaken with this blockade, and now I believe it could very well be the Paarese. The siege weapons the captain seemed so interested in will probably see the walls of Ocia. Perhaps he even thought that as a Callirian, I''d be biased against the Vierans.¡± Nelvel swallowed his saliva loudly. ¡°What... what does that mean?¡± ¡°Who knows. They may act under the guise of mercenaries for now, or try to incite indignation and rebellion against Daeli influence. What we can assume, however, is that there won''t be a Paarese army marching through the Vieran lands with siege towers and whatnot. Most likely, they intend to buy and build their siege engines here, in secrecy, or at least, make sure that they can provide tools to whoever they''ll be backing.¡± The slave thought for a moment. Even if he was wondering why would Paar risk a siege, or why would someone incite them to siege Ocia, he probably didn''t need Demnir''s input. Having spent time in Paar, Dael, and perhaps other countries, he should have been aware of the lay of the land, of the populations, of the diplomatic treaties. Especially aware of the lack of cultivable land in Paar, of the Daeli dreams of conquest, of the non-aggression pacts between nations that hated each other, and who would do their best to find ways around said pacts. ¡°Ah...¡± Demnir stretched his arms and gazed at the ceiling. ¡°I hope I''m right about all this. And if I am... I can''t wait to see how it''ll unfold.¡± Here Be Liars - Chapter 26 ¡°To you, who shall follow in my footsteps ¨C whether you are born a decade, a century, or a millennium after my death. Give your heart to Xito. Give your blood to Xito. Give your life, your passion, your honour, your desires and your regrets. Relinquish all that makes you human, all that makes you individual. The only tears you may shed are ones of joy and gratitude. Only then, may you truly be able to serve our god. -Alleged letter of a previous chosen¡± * * * Rina She stood on the altar and felt the stare of the people gathered in the temple. The great hall was crowded, yet it was so silent one could easily imagine it was empty. Only the sound of her breathing and her beating heart, echoing in her ears, as if these were the loudest noises she had ever heard. The cold stone of the altar, she felt with her bare feet. The fresh draft coming from somewhere in the temple, she felt through her almost naked body. On this special day, she wasn''t wearing any of her usual jewellery, nor had she donned her ceremonial attire. With nothing more than a single white sheet wrapped around her, she kneeled on the altar, and with one hand, grabbed the dagger next to her. The pummel was of silver, with red stones embedded in it, and the blade was carved with drawings and symbols, the meaning of which she still couldn''t figure out. It was Phiramel''s dagger, the one he used to poke her finger with when they first met. All that time I thought of it as a sacrificial dagger of sorts... She took a deep breath and held out her left arm. I never imagined I would use it on myself. Her eyes closed, she flinched as she buried the end of the blade in her arm. Grimaced as the sharp, cold edge sliced through the flesh, from elbow to wrist. Her heart beating faster than ever. The night berries she took earlier did little to dull the pain. Or perhaps they did ¨C but it still hurt anyway. She opened her eyes, observed her shaking hand, and the blood flowing everywhere. Her skin, her pitiful clothing, the dagger, and the altar, they all became red, redder with each second passing. She placed the dagger in her left hand, between weak and numb bloodied fingers. This hand wasn''t nearly as firm as the other, and the knew the second cut wouldn''t be as clean as the first. She extended her right arm, and sliced it in the same fashion, as best as she could. The crowd was still silent, a thousand eyes filled with awe, observing each and every shiver of hers. Studying every tear, listening to every whimper of hers. ¡°And now,¡± Phiramel whispered, but it was a whisper that echoed through the entire hall, ¡°let the chosen be reborn. Let her show us the blessing she received, let her blood flow out, and flow back in. Let her become the holy Blood, the embodiment of Xito''s will.¡± For what seemed like the longest minutes of her life, Rina waited wordlessly for the blood to exit her own body. Feeling the sleepiness and the fatigue growing and growing, her consciousness slowly fading, a sensation not entirely unlike experiencing nightshade poisoning. Or was it the nightshade taking effect now? She didn''t know anymore. Perhaps she would have panicked if she didn''t have these treasured memories ¨C already knowing how it felt, to bleed, to hurt, to feel the life extinguishing itself. When she woke up, her wounds had closed, and her clothes were no longer soaked in blood. There wasn''t a single scratch on her arms, not a single droplet of red anywhere around her, as if her mutilation was nothing more than a dream. She looked up and was met with the gaze of the many people kneeling in the hall. Some were crying in joy, other wore bright smiles, and a few more had blank looks of confusion. ¡°Arise, your holiness,¡± said Phiramel in a solemn tone. ¡°And welcome amongst us.¡± * * * Later in the day, she was resting in her room. Sitting by the window, gazing at the horizon. North. There was no way she would be able to see it from here, she knew it, but she kept staring. Where are you now? she wondered. Still in Akilne? What are you doing there? Or have you perhaps travelled somewhere else? There had been no letter from her brother since the first one. Certainly, that meant he was too busy to write. It would not mean that he had gotten himself deep in trouble. Not that, she wasn''t worried about that, no. No. What was she worried about, then? A hesitant knock at the door, and Rina sighed. ¡°Yes,¡± she eventually answered, and Aiga bowed as soon as she entered the room. ¡°...Your holiness,¡± the maid began softly, ¡°sorry for disturbing you during your time of leisure. His excellency Phiramel called for a meeting in the council room.¡± Rina observed the maid, studied her nervous expression and her unsteady hand combing her brown hair behind her ears. ¡°Hmm.¡± She nodded at last. ¡°Of course.¡± What does he want? She stepped out and her guards followed her. Leon was here, but they spoke no word, save for the usual acknowledgment of ranks. Leon, whose tongue had somewhat loosened during their conversations about Phiramel and the future of Callir, was suddenly quiet today. It wasn''t the presence of the servants and knights ¨C the two of them had no trouble twisting their words and reading between each other''s lines. I see. She didn''t feel any different, but it was clear that something had changed for everyone else. No matter what one might have imagined about what it meant to be a chosen of the gods, surely the sight of someone bleeding out before being naturally revived would be stunning. The bleeding part, they witnessed often enough with executions and whatnot. The rest? Once every century if they were lucky, sometimes longer. She entered a silent council room and was met with the stares of churchmen and noblemen. Noblemen who should have arrived after her ¨C whatever Phiramel meant to discuss, it had obviously been discussed with the nobles earlier. She spotted Laurentias Feanir, seated far enough from the high-priest for everyone to notice that something was going on between the two. The slight frown clouding the lord''s expression was another hint. While Rina had the whole bloodsguard at her service now, there was a new face was standing behind Phiramel, some middle-aged henchman she already saw a couple of times and knew as Carius. A slender but agile body wrapped in boiled leather, a knife sheathed at the belt, these things she absorbed immediately. He reminded her of Bert, but with less hair and none of that messy beard. She had no doubt her newly appointed fencing master was more skilled with the sword than him, though. ¡°Your holiness,¡± the high-priest greeted, before glancing over the room. Once he made sure that no one was missing, he waited for Rina to sit before carrying on and addressing everyone. ¡°A while ago, I received word from the kingdom of Paar. By now, I''m sure most of you have heard about the blockade in Ocia, and how it affects the trade route. The city-states of Viera seem to be asking for war, and we are not the only ones concerned.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rina shifted in her seat as it felt suddenly uncomfortable. I know where this is going, she thought, and by the look of it, the others knew too, and didn''t exactly want to hear it. Lord Feanir was staring at the wooden table, while Viriane''s eyelids were shut close. Elric Danalion was stroking his bearded chin with a thoughtful expression, no doubt a facade, and eventually Rina''s gaze met Julia''s tense eyes. The priestess quickly glanced away, perhaps to seek Leon''s eyes instead. Phiramel raised two open palms and kept on. ¡°The king of Paar was offended by the Vierans and he means to retaliate.¡± ¡°A storm is coming,¡± the sibyl said. ¡°The stars have been telling us for some time now. When I looked in the goat''s blood this morning, I saw it again. The heroes shall play an important role in this.¡± ¡°The Vierans broke a peace that lasted half a century. They angered us, then they angered the Paarese. It was already bad before that, but now I can say it with confidence ¨C a war will break out, and soon.¡± Phiramel paused, rose from his chair, and walked around with his hands behind his back. ¡°Sides must be taken,¡± he concluded nonchalantly. It was a statement that should have triggered at least a few whispers in the council room, but they all kept silent. They all know. Rina did not feel like dragging the conversation, and sighed. ¡°You''re saying we should side with Paar.¡± ¡°Exactly, your holiness.¡± She would have liked to take her time to think about this. To study maps, ask for advice, write to her brother. But right now people were looking in her direction, expecting her to voice either her approval or her disapproval, which she knew would be unwise to do without proper understanding of the situation. She could think later ¨C for the moment she simply had to talk. ¡°Explain, if you would.¡± ¡°But of course,¡± Phiramel replied, nodding. ¡°I suspect the Paarese wish to conquer Ocia and take control of the strait. If their intent is to siege the city, they must be worried about being surrounded by the other Vieran armies. Then this is where Callir''s assistance would be valuable to the king of Paar.¡± Is this truly wise? The way she saw it, siding with the city-states of Viera was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone ¨C crushing the belligerent Paarese before the war took its toll, and reconciling with the Vierans. What do the military advisors think of all that? she wanted to ask, but knew she couldn''t. If perchance her question sounded like an objection, there was no predicting what the others would imagine. With a treacherous brother, they must have been worried about his influence. She was sure some people here were wondering whether she had been corrupted by Astrael. Their hatred of Vierans, or at least the way some took advantage of it, was complicating things. ¡°This would mean sending forces northward, in Vieran territory, if I''m not mistaken.¡± ¡°Yes, your holiness,¡± the high-priest said. ¡°A strategy has yet to be decided upon, but in all likelihood we would be warring against Akilne, and perhaps even Byrille or Xyr.¡± Akilne... Rina swallowed her saliva. Does he mean to send me at the head of an army? Her tongue rolled in her mouth, weighting the words she could say ¨C but Phiramel gave her no time for an answer and continued. ¡°Lord Feanir shall take command of the Callirian armies, and lead us to victory. Of course, there is no need for your holiness to be present on the battlefield. Your prayers will be enough.¡± Hearing that, Rina raised a brow and froze. In the corner of her eye, she saw Leon clenching his fist. Then a simple explanation came to mind. It would make sense. The high-priest wore a large smile, one of pride and satisfaction. What if he didn''t really believe war against the Vierans was a wise thing? Maybe he hoped that Laurentias Feanir and his army would be defeated... Judging by the grim expression of the lord and the cold anger of his son, this was certainly how these two understood it. How bad has become the relationship between Phiramel and the Feanir family? It was indeed the intended consequence of Astrael''s plan, but Rina doubted that her brother had even expected such a brutal deterioration. The two sides must not have bothered to do much in order to mend their issues. It wasn''t hard to imagine, especially with Leon''s quick temper. Even now, it was obvious he was boiling inside, in spite of his best efforts to keep his composure. The slight shaking of his fists, the tightly shut lips, the glaring eyes that seemed to never blink. The others probably knew it too, but they wouldn''t say anything. They would play along, just like they did when Therenus was accused. At this rate, letting Phiramel have his way with obvious lies would be a common occurrence. Here comes a dilemma. Rina sighed yet again. Should she stand up right here, right now, and oppose Phiramel? Or should she let things happen the way the high-priest wanted them to, at least until the others realised how dangerous it was to allow him to do whatever he pleased? Regardless, I need the Feanir house on my side... But I can''t make anything obvious in front of Phiramel. She made her decision quickly, agreed with Phiramel and watched as the meeting continued in a more or less peaceful way. What mattered was that the high-priest wouldn''t see Rina as an obstacle. I''ll keep being sneaky about it ¨C she figured Astrael would have done the same. On the way back to her room, Leon was silent. He had not spoken a word since he heard his father would lead a dangerous campaign. Not that he had been very talkative before that, anyway. She stopped in front of her door, glanced around, then stared in Leon''s eyes. ¡°Come in, I should like to have a word with you,¡± she said, her voice sounding more imperious than she expected. ¡°What is it, your holiness?¡± the captain asked in an uncaring tone as he closed the door behind him. She sat on her bed, her eyes still fixed on him. ¡°Would you have objected to Phiramel''s suggestion, had you been in my position?¡± He seemed surprised. Probably didn''t expect me to bring this on. ¡°...Your holiness, I wouldn''t dare picturing myself as-¡± ¡°Then were you hoping I''d speak up against him?¡± she interrupted sharply, somewhat annoyed by the knight''s evasive answer. Leon swallowed loudly and glanced sideways. No reply, so she carried on. ¡°I thought about it, mind you. I could still go and see him now, if I wanted to. But doing so would not amount to anything, as you probably guessed. He would use that fake polite tone of his to refute my opinion and point out that I am no strategist, and make it all sound like a praise or an advice.¡± ¡°Then if you won''t say it...¡± ¡°...You won''t either,¡± Rina said with a shrug. ¡°It is simple. I won''t say it. You won''t say it, nor will your father. Nobody needs to say it. It would not change anything. However, there is something else you can do, sir Leon. You can make the other houses understand that if his excellency the high-priest is able to toy with the great Feanir house, there is no reason he wouldn''t do the same with the smaller houses.¡± Not that she thought there was a single noble unaware of this. But she guessed that in their minds, the threat was still distant. As long as it happens to someone else, they won''t care. If I leave them be, they''ll only start caring once it''s their turn ¨C once it''s too late. There was no surprise in Leon''s eyes. Rina could tell he had been contemplating the idea for quite some time. All the better. ¡°I did tell you that I would repay those who place their trust in me. That I wouldn''t mistreat my allies the way Phiramel does. You know it. I would appreciate it if you were to share this knowledge with your friends... with your father''s friends... and with whomever you believe would be interested in the way you and I see things. Only then, will I be able to fulfil this promise and free your father from Phiramel''s whims.¡± Her knights knew, but it wasn''t enough. She needed all these people to really consider her, not as an option, but as the only way, and pointing out how Phiramel handled his own allies was the perfect opportunity. Leon Feanir bowed and looked down at his feet. To hide whatever genuine expression he failed to contain, perhaps. ¡°I shall do that, your holiness.¡± Even as he reached for the door handle and left the room, the knight didn''t ask what Rina had in mind regarding Phiramel. Leon either knew what fate would befell the high-priest once the church and the nobility were united behind Rina, or he didn''t want to know ¨C which also meant he knew. You needn''t worry about his excellency, she thought, smiling to herself. Once alone, she sat at her desk, flattened a piece of paper and dipped her quill in the ink. The whole business with the Paarese wasn''t something she had been preparing for. It was unexpected, and she needed guidance. Astrael would write soon, she reckoned. What if he didn''t, though? She could try to contact him, and risk Phiramel finding out about his whereabout. Not that she knew anything about her brother''s new life, except for this new name of his... She stayed here, on her chair, thinking for a bit, not writing a word. She felt powerless without Astrael''s advices and plans, yet she had so much to worry about. How to get both the royalists and the remnants of Therenus'' faction on her side. She couldn''t rely on Leon alone. How to deal with the Paarese, and the ambassadors they would surely send in Callir. She knew nothing about diplomacy. And how to deal with this damn war... She knew nothing about war. Only what she had been taught ¨C but her teachers'' experience wasn''t her own. ¡°Ah.¡± She took a deep breath, let out a chuckle, and began writing. There was someone she could trust, to a certain extent. Her brother had told her all about him, and he was perfect for the job. Astrael even suspected him of being a royalist, and if he really was, then it would be truly convenient. Why didn''t I send for him earlier? Last she heard of him was through a letter from her parents. Apparently, he was still the same old apothecary, teaching the same old lessons, in the same old village. Perhaps he would enjoy a change of scenery. Here Be Liars - Chapter 27 ¡°The womb screamed ¨C and there was fire. The earth shook, and stone sunk in the waters. Some say the Grey goddess of envy destroyed the Old Temple because she was jealous of Viera''s grace. Her nefarious desire turned into a curse that still afflicts unfortunate sailors to this day. Witnesses of that spell seldom forget the screams the cursed ones make when they tear apart each other''s skin and flesh, as if they''ve all become murderously envious of everyone else''s beauty. -traveller¡± * * * Nelvel Nelvel stopped and glanced at the facade of the building. Tall and large, made of beige stone, one could have guessed that it was an inn. Only, erotic tapestries on the walls and ceilings could be glimpsed at between the purple curtains of the windows. The stone carvings depicting the naked goddess, exposing her holy bosom with the most charming smile, were another detail hinting at the building being a temple of Viera rather than an inn. ¡°That''s the place,¡± Nelvel concluded. ¡°The Tainted Temple.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Demnir dismounted and stood before the door, arms crossed. Today, he was wearing his usual doublet made of crimson velvet, with a black half cape over one shoulder. ¡°I wouldn''t know about the temple, but for sure the air is tainted over here.¡± Nelvel shrugged as he handed over the reins of the horse to some stable boy. ¡°Doubtless the temple itself, and its priestesses, are also dirty. People call it an inn, but it''s one of the most popular brothels in Akilne.¡± They could hear the music coming from inside, and the incense wasn''t enough to hide the scent of opium, sweat, and lust. ¡°Not one of the most elegant-sounding, in any case,¡± Demnir muttered before entering. You''re the only one who expects honour from slavers and elegance from brothels, Nelvel mocked silently, as he wouldn''t dare giving voice to his mockery. Inside the brothel, the melody of the harp and the muffled moans of pleasure coming from upstairs allowed very little uncertainty regarding the purpose of this place. In case people still mistook it for an inn, somehow. The soft, filtered light illuminated the flesh of the courtesans with a reddish pink glow ¨C just enough to let the customers see what was meant to be seen, and to obscure what was meant to be paid for. Demnir had a word with the slave that came to greet them, while Nelvel was left alone to his observations. He spied through the curtains of a room, and his eyes glanced around, sizing up the customers. I know Samaar is a sailor of sorts but... A hairy one-eyed man gulping cup after cup, his legs crossed on the table, a gorgeous blonde whispering something in his ear while her hand disappeared somewhere under the man''s belt. Some baldy letting his fingers wander inside the transparent tunic of another pleasure slave, a stoic young girl who didn''t seem to mind the many horrible scars on her customer''s skull, despite having said skull being rubbed against her chest. Groups and groups of tough-looking men, sailors, pirates perhaps... Anyone of them could have been Samaar. Before long Nelvel wasn''t observing the brothel''s guests, but its hosts. A cute girl, probably his age, smiled at him from a balcony. Lovely dark hair, and fair skin that seemed to glow in the dim purple light. She bent over the balustrade, put a leg forward, almost giving him a sight of her parts underneath her sparse clothing. As his eyes were fixed up there, trying to see through that damn shadow, Nelvel felt his breeches were getting too tight. ¡°Don''t let your eyes wander around,¡± Demnir said, his chilling voice waking him up from a sweet dream of flesh and moans. I wish I had Neral''s blessed vision, the slave complained in his mind as he reluctantly looked away from the delightful priestess on the balcony and followed the noble. A servant girl slowly led them deep inside the brothel, where the music was getting louder, along with the mirthful laughter of women and the rough voices of sailors. They passed a few corridors, slipped between a few curtains, and eventually reached a room with dancing girls and drinking men. The servant whispered a couple of words in Demnir''s ear as she pointed toward a table where a lone man was seated. She quickly disappeared after that, and they made their way toward the table. Dodging slaves bringing cups of wine, and the staggering drunkards that emptied said cups. ¡°I hear there''s a very pious sailor who visited every temple in Akilne,¡± Demnir said as he neared the table. The man, quite tall even though he was currently sitting, had messy dark hair flowing from his head, and made his white teeth shine from under his thick beard. He wore ample linen and leather that didn''t hide well the musculature underneath. ¡°I made these lovely priestesses chant all manner of prayers,¡± Samaar said at last, with smiling eyes. ¡°Pretty songs and prettier screams even, which could make Viera blush. Please, do have a seat, Demnir the Callirian,¡± he added, motioning for the empty chair in front of him with his bronze-coloured hand. Demnir sat, his back facing the dancers. The slave couldn''t help but gape at the nimbleness and flexibility of these girls. The flexibility of their legs, and much more... He turned his head and was met with Samaar''s amused stare. ¡°The lad would also like to meet these singers, I reckon. Or is it the dancers?¡± ¡°He''s easily impressed,¡± Demnir said nonchalantly, a hint of judgement in his eyes. Nelvel had never felt so embarrassed ¨C his master was perhaps two years younger than him, had all the freedom in the world and enough money to enjoy it, yet managed to keep a perfect composure in this absurdly tempting place. ¡°And you''re not,¡± the sailor replied, now staring at the noble. ¡°People seldom display that sort of nonchalance when they sit with me. And kids your age usually don''t even dare to look in my direction.¡± Demnir barely cared to hide his arrogant smile. ¡°Oh, but I precisely came here to be impressed, as a matter of fact. The talk is that you''ve travelled everywhere around the world, navigated through dangerous seas and heavily guarded harbours.¡± He laid back into his chair, tilted his head. ¡°The world interests me, and so does anyone with tales about it.¡± Samaar chuckled, but it sounded like thunder tearing the skies apart. ¡°Aye, I''ve travelled. Not everywhere, mind you, but I probably saw more than most men. Been across the Middle Sea, the Grey Sea. Stayed in the ports of the secluded Summer Dominion and the Crescent Isles. Set foot in the southern jungles, and walked the strangest lands I''ve ever seen in the east.¡± ¡°Have you met any hero along the way?¡± Nelvel didn''t fail to notice the change in Demnir''s smile. It was... somewhat eerie. Whether or not Samaar also noticed, there was no hint of it on his face. ¡°Perhaps,¡± the sailor said, pausing to sip his wine, his eyes following something or someone behind them. A priestess, no doubt. ¡°I thought you''d ask about fairy tales and legends, like the others.¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Ah, I intend to, of course. Just thought we could start with this.¡± ¡°Why don''t you ask him about the people he killed?¡± someone said from behind. Demnir raised a brow, Samaar snorted, Nelvel realised that the sailor''s eyes weren''t following a charming lady, but some angry drunk man. ¡°Funny seeing you here. Been hearing about you for some time, ''bout how you took it easy and spent your time here with whores and all that.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± Samaar asked with obvious disinterest in his voice. The man wore a crooked smile, but it wasn''t friendly at all, and his shirt was stained with purple dots, probably spilled from his empty jug. ¡°Did he tell you how he crossed the southern sea? Eh? The brave explorer... Samaar!¡± he bellowed, and turned around, as if putting up a show for the people in the room. ¡°Left the Vieran cities with five ships, came back with two! Oh, a glorious expedition, for sure! My brother would agree.¡± The room was oddly silent now. The dancers had stopped dancing, the customers remembered they had to go home, to their wife and children, if they had any. ¡°Do I know your brother?¡± Samaar inquired, but Nelvel, and probably everyone else, could already guess where this was going. ¡°Oh, bet you do. Was from one of your crews. You probably don''t even remember his name though. I heard he went mad in the south, when you dumb fuck sailed too close to the Old Temple. Also heard how you cured the madmen. Cured a whole crew of madmen, isn''t that amazing? You''ve got your own way of doing things, eh. Tell us, Samaar, fancy traveller that you are, tell us your way of curing madmen.¡± ¡°I cut their throat,¡± the sailor simply said, putting his empty cup back on the table. The drunkard pulled out a knife from somewhere and lunged. The empty cup was sent flying, along with a chunk of flesh, and droplets of blood. Samaar barely gave a glance at the bloodied knife that cut through his own finger and got stuck in the wooden table. He grabbed the drunk man by the neck, slammed his head against the table, right next to the knife. The obvious pain caused by his broken nose didn''t stop the man from panicking when he saw Samaar''s injured hand grabbing the knife and pulling the blade out from the wood. The drunk struggled against the arm pinning him down ¨C he grunted and swung his fists and kicked, until the table was knocked over. Probably fearing Samaar''s wrath, and now on the ground, he tried to crawl away, only to receive the sailor''s boot on the skull. Samaar looked down at the man at his feet, then grunted before glancing around. ¡°Get him out of my sight,¡± he commanded to one of the few who had dared to stay, perhaps hoping to see a good fight. The sailor examined the knife that cut him. Apparently decided to keep it, because he cleaned it. The drunk, grieving, and now unconscious brother was dragged away, out of the room, and Samaar eventually sat back, observing his severed finger. Demnir hadn''t moved at all, still comfortably seated, arms and legs crossed, and simply glanced at the half-broken table next to him. Samaar called out to a servant girl, motioned for the table and for his empty cup on the ground. ¡°Pour me wine, child. Bring more of that fine grape from the Summer Dominion, that''ll do.¡± The shivering girl obeyed, replaced the table, picked up the cup, and brought a new amphora, while the sailor cut a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his shortened finger. Samaar took a single sip from his cup and slammed it back on the table. ¡°It''s the wrong one, you fucking fool!¡± he bellowed, spitting the wine out, his odd calmness suddenly gone. ¡°Don''t you dare serving me crap, I said I wanted a bloody Summer wine!¡± ¡°My, my,¡± Demnir said at last, with these amused grey eyes of his. ¡°Don''t be too hard on the girl, friend. Are wines from the Dominion so good they''re worth getting upset over?¡± The sailor clicked his tongue and sighed. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered. ¡°Yeah, they certainly are.¡± ¡°I''ll have a taste too,¡± the noble decided, nodding to the frightened girl whose shaking hands looked like they could drop the amphora anytime. ¡°It''s on me,¡± Samaar said. ¡°As an apology for the trouble.¡± ¡°No, no, don''t bother. It''s been most pleasant! We were speaking of heroes, yes?¡± Samaar grunted, nodded, fiddled with his aching finger. ¡°...There was a girl in Tehen, in the arena. Had a sword-shaped mark on her hand. Could have been a fake, could have been the real thing, I don''t know. She''s a killer for sure, though. Never seen someone dance around like that. At first I thought she had red ribbons wrapped around her wrists or something like that. Turns out it was blood swirling around her as she kept cutting down people, over and over... A real dancer, I tell you.¡± ¡°It''s said that Sazin does like dancers.¡± ¡°Heard he likes big swords and blacksmiths the most,¡± the sailor replied, shrugging. ¡°That''s why Sazin''s temple, in Tehen, is a giant armoury of sorts. There''s isn''t a corridor where you don''t hear the clashing steel or the sizzling coals. Temples sure are a funny thing, when you think about it. There are some where we pray, marry, hope for better days. Then, in some, we fight and smith, and in others, we sleep. My favourite kind, though, are the Vieran temples, no doubt.¡± ¡°Where you can hear the sweetest of choirs and learn that prayers can get fairly unholy.¡± ¡°Oh, certainly,¡± Samaar said with a chuckle. ¡°Well, anyhow. That''s all I know about heroes.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Demnir tasted the Summer wine that the girl had just poured, and nodded. ¡°Quite good indeed. Perhaps I should buy and sell some.¡± ¡°Aye, you could. If you ever travel to the Dominion, come and see me. They export a lot, yet they rarely let foreigners in... but I know places, and I know people. Well, even though I say this, I doubt I''ll be coming back in Akilne in the near future. Made enough enemies here during this first visit.¡± ¡°Where are you headed next?¡± Samaar took a sip and let out a deep, long breath. ¡°...Ocia, perhaps. I''ve been wanting to see it one last time, and with all the talks of blockade and war, I feel like I should go before it''s too late.¡± ¡°Indeed, it would be a shame to wait until Ocia is filled with dead bodies and burnt houses.¡± Demnir said that nonchalantly, but Samaar squinted his eyes. ¡°Hopefully it won''t come to that,¡± he added. ¡°...Hopefully.¡± ¡°Well, I wouldn''t want to take too much of your time,¡± the noble eventually said, getting up. He finished his wine quickly and placed a silver coin on the table. ¡°Especially when your time in Akilne is limited.¡± As his hand pushed the coin forward, he revealed another one underneath. ¡°I certainly hope to finish this conversation before you leave. Perhaps you could come by to greet us, this time. I''d be delighted to show you my workshop.¡± Samaar stared in Demnir''s eyes, and the noble stared back. The sailor nodded at last, and as they left, Nelvel heard him calling out for more wine. The slave had been fearing that a bunch of mean-looking henchmen would show up, but there had been no such thing. Famous establishments like the Tainted Temple probably had the protection of powerful people, in which case nobody would ever have the dumb idea of making a commotion here. If Samaar expected trouble later on, he didn''t seem worried about it. What''s one more enemy for a guy like him, after all, Nelvel concluded, while he tried to look for the pretty girl he saw earlier now that they were in the entrance hall. Alas, she was nowhere to be seen. He couldn''t help but imagine her riding some fat old man, her beautiful hair swaying with each grunt of her customer, whose hairy hands groped her soft, white flesh. ¡°You look bitter,¡± Demnir observed once they were outside. ¡°Maybe I am,¡± Nelvel casually replied as he readied the horse. The noble mounted and looked at the slave, as if he expected him to say more. ¡°What''s your angle with this Samaar guy?¡± he improvised. Demnir rubbed his chin. ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°Or were you so curious about his stories that you travelled here, endured the filth and the noise, which I know you dislike, only to leave after hearing a couple of anecdotes?¡± Demnir had a good, long laugh, after which he spurred his horse forward, knowing Nelvel would follow. ¡°Believe me or not, but I am genuinely interested in his stories. Today''s visit was just to see whether I could expect many more opportunities to hear him out.¡± Nelvel frowned, as he always did when he felt his master had thought up a new gamble. ¡°Please, explain further.¡± ¡°It would be a shame not to take advantage of Ocia being besieged.¡± ¡°Aren''t you already taking advantage of it?¡± By selling weapons to the future besiegers, he continued in his mind, knowing it would sound like a complaint if he said it out loud. ¡°You already secured whatever profit you could make.¡± ¡°Only half of it. Making money with the Paarese is good. Making money with both the Paarese, and Ocia, that''s much better. And I''ve been meaning to extend this business beyond woodwork and metalwork.¡± Nelvel said no word, waiting for Demnir to carry on. He didn''t like the sound of it, yet he was curious. ¡°I wanted to judge if our new friend Samaar could help us smuggle a few things in Ocia, right before the siege. I gather he''s much more than the stateless, ruthless, whore-loving pirate he wants everyone to see him as ¨C but what I think, most of all, is that he''s a competent man who wouldn''t cause us trouble if we were to bring weapons and rare commodities on board.¡± ¡°Wait, bring? On board? We, you said?¡± ¡°Why, of course,¡± Demnir said. ¡°We''ll be visiting Ocia soon. There''s quite a lot of things we need to buy before then. Rejoice, Nelvel, we''ll end up with such a wealth, you''ll have no trouble paying as often as you want for that lovely courtesan you seem to have fallen in love with.¡± Here Be Liars - Chapter 28 ¡°Some people would argue that the last king of Callir suffered from a terrible sickness, which led to his infamous bursts of anger and his vicious acts. The rumours said that he was very irritable, so much that he would be enraged at the slightest disturbance, though shortly after he would fall into a state of emptiness, awake yet asleep. Such stories became a taboo of sorts, because the people felt they risked justifying the king''s cruelty. -historical records of Callir¡± * * * Julia Waiting at the southern gates with a pair of slaves, she studied the people going in and out to fight her boredom. Her holiness had sent them to greet this teacher of hers, but it seemed he was late. Thus, Julia observed the gates while she waited in front of her carriage, wishing she could simply sit down inside and rest her legs, but fearing she''d miss the man she was supposed to greet if she did so. In truth, her eyes would wander rather than observe ¨C but that was enough to notice some small changes in Callir. Peasants, for instance, had started to gather in town. Vigorous men with clothes covered in dirt, wearing boots that appeared to be centuries-old and riding donkeys that looked ever older. Caravans not filled with merchandise or slaves, but with free men, hurriedly jumping from the wagons and gaping in awe as they studied the square lookouts towering above the roofs of the houses. Strong kids that didn''t really seem to know what to do or where to go in such a huge place, carrying canvas bags and whatnot, containing the few belongings they had, eating bread that was most likely harder than stone. The citywatch would stop each of them at the gates, deliberately intimidating with their spears and swords. Some were clad in leather and mail, some wore shiny iron helms covering their rough, hairy faces. Some looked more like bandits and sellswords, if anything. The guards would search the nervous lads, and, sounding almost disappointed once they realised they were only penniless peasants, ushered them inside the city. In the corner of her eye Julia noticed an old man who matched the description she was given, getting off one of the carriages that arrived just now. His hair was cropped close while his chin was hidden under a thick beard. His face was wrinkled but his eyes had no hint of fatigue, in spite of his bags and his dirtied mundane tunic suggesting his trip hadn''t been much comfortable. ¡°Would you be... Horace?¡± she asked almost hesitantly as the man walked past her. The man glanced at her and her crimson robes, then raised a brow before giving a faint chuckle. ¡°My, it''s been some time since I last saw a priestess of Xito.¡± His voice was coarse but his tone affectionate. ¡°Yes, yes, my name''s Horace, indeed. And you are?¡± ¡°Julia,¡± she said with a bow, before gesturing at the slaves to take care of the teacher''s luggage. ¡°I am sure you are tired, but her holiness awaits you.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Horace said joyously, getting in the carriage at once. Julia followed, and while they made their way toward the temple, she stole a glance or two. She had been told the man was around his seventies, but he looked at least twenty years younger. It was as if his black hair had merely begun to fall around the temples, and Julia only noticed the rare greying spots in his equally dark beard because she was searching for them. ¡°Her holiness mentioned you used to teach her in the village,¡± Julia said, not sure herself whether she tried to break the ice because the silence was awkward, or because she felt intimidated. ¡°Yes, I did, and her brother too. Brilliant students, both of them,¡± he replied casually, as if unaware of what happened a few months ago. No, perhaps he truly was unaware? ¡°I watched them as they grew up and learned how to read and write... among other things.¡± Julia said nothing about Astrael, almost regretting that she brought it up. Doubtless Horace would learn about the brother''s circumstances soon enough if he hadn''t already ¨C she''d rather stay silent and let the chosen explain all about her own sibling. Perhaps the old man felt the same uneasiness, because he changed the subject. ¡°Now that I think about it, we''ve met before, haven''t we?¡± ¡°I...¡± Julia paused and thought for a bit. It could be that he saw her at the village when she accompanied Phiramel to meet the chosen, half a decade ago. But she had no memory of it ¨C she probably never even saw his face because she was too focused on the chosen at the time, else she was certain she would have remembered him. ¡°I believe we have, yes.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Horace nodded, before casting his gaze on the passersby in the streets. ¡°I barely remember this city. Perhaps because the streets seem so crowded now, it''s almost as if I''m visiting an entirely different place.¡± So he has been here before, Julia observed. Couldn''t he have found his way to the temple? Now she wasn''t sure why she had to wait for him at the gates. ¡°Many farmers left the countryside to come here,¡± she explained. ¡°Most of them would have no real reason to ever come to the city during their lifetime...¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°...Yet here they are,¡± he replied, smiling. Indeed, here they were. Some said it was because the harvests wouldn''t be that good this year, because there would be more jobs, more food, more silver to find here. ¡°I don''t see a lot of women and children,¡± he added. Julia agreed with a nod. She gathered the men were indeed in search of a job, especially with his excellency''s talks of war and whatnot. Since ancient times, the Callirian generals would often recruit the infantry''s soldiers among peasants. They believe they''re used to physical exertion, and that they can live with little food and bad weather without complaining. They often said that a legion comprised of already hardened peasants was less likely to give into mutiny during difficult campaigns, though Julia wouldn''t know how true that was. But surely enough, even the regular citizens of Callir would have to get used to harsh conditions, now. With the trade between house Danalion and the Vierans gone, and the preparations for war, there was less food destined to the commoners these days. Can''t say the same for the highborn families, though, she thought as her eyes spotted two palanquins in an alley. She would have forgotten about it a second later, if something hadn''t caught her attention. The carriers looked oddly familiar... So did the guards watching out for anyone who''d want to get somewhat close. Perhaps she had already seen these people in the temple? The balding man in leather, for instance, was the spitting image of Carius, the high-priest''s new bodyguard. Uncanny. Too uncanny, in fact. Frowning and squinting her eyes, Julia twisted her neck and bent to the side so that she could keep on watching. The curtains of both palanquins were closed and while there was no sigil on the first one, there was no mistake regarding the other. It was the Feanir crest. Now she recalled the faces of the carriers ¨C she had seen them at the Feanir estate. They were Timenon''s carriers, yes. They were the ones who helped him move around the house when he felt too sick and too weak, and they were also the ones carrying his palanquin on the rare occasions he wanted to go somewhere in the city. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± Horace inquired, almost startling Julia. His watchful eyes only helped to make her more uneasy than she already was. ¡°No,¡± she simply said with a forced smile, as the two palanquins disappeared behind the corner of a building. There was no room for doubt. One belonged to Timenon Feanir, the other was probably Phiramel''s... Why would they hide in some back alley, as if they were afraid of being seen? Something felt wrong. I should ask Leon about this, she thought, even though she knew the tension between the high-priest and the noble family was playing an important part in her nervousness and her worries. They eventually arrived in front of the temple. Before entering, Horace took a moment to gaze at the mighty pyramid, then faced the other side of the plaza to observe the sanctuary of Atharemine, grey and cold as ever among the warm sand-coloured streets. Just like the newly arrived peasants wandering around the gates because they had nowhere to sleep in Callir, the people who were used to sleeping here probably had little experience of comfort. The windows of the sanctuary seldom had glass or curtains, or any sort of way to fight against the winter nights. The unstoppable breeze was certainly welcome in summer ¨C not so much in winter, during which the guests of Atharemine would improvise with rags and wooden planks to block the wind, when they had any. The slaves carried Horace''s belongings to his new chambers, while Julia led him upstairs, walking in front until they reached her holiness'' floor. Once again, Julia gave Horace a stealthy glance. He looks like he barely broke a sweat. Entirely different from the deceased Therenus and his notoriously aching bones, or even the high-priest these days. Even Phiramel couldn''t defend against the curse of ageing, and his health seemed to have degraded alongside his usual soundness of mind. Yet Horace stood straight with his chin held high and his chest stuck out, like a tireless athlete. They were stopped by the bloodsguard in front of Rina''s room. Leon stepped forward, with a faint but noticeable limp that would probably follow him for the rest of his life, and had Horace searched by his men. Behind strands of silky hair, his once charming and handsome features felt somewhat hard and cold nowadays. Maybe it was just Julia''s imagination. ¡°The captain of the bloodsguard,¡± Horace observed once they were done, scratching his dark beard. ¡°Lord Feanir''s son, I presume?¡± The knight nodded, and Julia introduced him as sir Leon Feanir. ¡°How is your father?¡± The bloodsguard replied in a flat tone. ¡°He is well.¡± ¡°As expected,¡± said the old man with a shrug. Leon blinked and gave him a strange look, but Horace''s attention was already elsewhere as he made his way inside the room. Her holiness was reading a book while she waited, her beautiful black hair falling freely on her crimson robes. She looked up and gave a small smile. ¡°Horace,¡± she greeted as she got to her feet. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡± ¡°Your holiness,¡± Horace replied, bowing promptly. ¡°You invited me, and here I am. At your service.¡± ¡°More loyal and punctual than knight Egael himself was to his beloved, if I dare say.¡± Horace chuckled. ¡°A praise I''ll heartily accept, though I also fancy myself a faithful citizen, unlike our dear Egael.¡± With smiling eyes, Rina motioned for the man to take a seat, and had a servant girl pour them some tea. ¡°We have much to discuss,¡± she eventually said, before facing the priestess. ¡°That''ll be all, sister Julia. Thank you.¡± Julia bowed and left the chambers. On her way out, she exchanged glances with Leon. They had stopped seeing each other at the Feanir estate ¨C no longer safe there, the knight would insist, though he never said the reason. Julia guessed the quarrel with Phiramel was at fault. There could be spies there, or it could simply be that the Feanir household was tense and on edge. In any case, that obviously didn''t mean they couldn''t meet in the temple, in certain places and at certain hours. Tonight, she''d simply trade her red gown for a servant''s robe. Hide her face under a hood as she would sneak inside Leon''s room, while his men would be guarding the chosen''s door. Servant girls visit off-duty knights all the time, she told herself. And nobody seemed to care. Though she knew that Phiramel wouldn''t let that pass if he heard about Leon breaking his vows ¨C even if her disguise worked and it looked like it was with a servant. She wasn''t sure about how Rina would react, but Phiramel? There was no doubt he''d use this as an opportunity to harm the Feanir family. Julia wouldn''t admit it, but she felt a thrill every time they took such a risk. Perhaps this was the reason they had both broken their vows so easily ¨C the thrill. But today, the thrill she felt wasn''t the one she was usually looking for. It wasn''t even a thrill. She couldn''t help thinking about the palanquins in the alley, about the Feanir crest, about Phiramel''s bodyguard. What was the high-priest trying to do by meeting with the Feanir heir in secret? Oh, she could guess, she could imagine. And what she pictured in her mind, she didn''t like one bit. She knew that Leon''s father and the high-priest were on bad terms, and she knew that her decision would most likely help one of them, and pose a danger to the other. Loyalty toward the church, toward her mentor, toward a man who started acting strangely ever since he sentenced his rival Therenus to death by bleeding... Or fealty toward her feelings, toward her lover who was obviously tormented by the unclear future of his family... She didn''t need to think about it. She wasn''t even fooling herself by acting like she was torn between these two sides. The moment she peered into the alley, the moment doubt and worry crept up in her mind, she had already decided she''d warn Leon about it tonight. The Merchants Way - Chapter 29 ¡°Regheon the Wise was a famous Daeli astronomer and a talented architect whose castles are still reputed impregnable today, but let us not forget that he had also been gifted with a keen insight in human nature. His life should be a model for anyone studying the art of diplomacy, as well as the psychological wonders of siege warfare. -Euronel, Treatise on Warfare and Politics¡± * * * Demnir He wandered on the ship, the wood creaking with each step. Running his fingers along an oak crate smelling of perfume from the Summer Dominion, stroking with his hand a canvas bag stinking of spices and dried herbs imported from Callir. ¡°This is taking longer than I expected,¡± Demnir said as he stepped aside to dodge a pair of slaves carrying a chest bound with bronze. Walking next to him, Nelvel scoffed and motioned for the merchandise. ¡°This is much more than I expected.¡± Samaar''s ships were indeed quite filled with all manner of things, but Demnir simply shrugged in response. ¡°It''s the least we can do if we hope to make a nice profit in Ocia.¡± ¡°It better be worth it,¡± Nelvel grumbled. ¡°You''ve already spent most of the money we made with Zeron and the Paarese. Parts for trebuchets, ballistas, and plans for these strange towers of yours... That''s a lot of silver.¡± As expected from these rogue groups of Paarese agents, they were more interested in plans and instructions rather than weaponry ready for use. Travelling with siege engines isn''t just slow and unpractical, it''s also as conspicuous as it gets. Conspicuousness was the last thing attackers wanted when they were forced to travel on enemy land. While Demnir was busy thinking up ways to sell his inventions to the Paarese, rather than being politely forced to accompany them as an engineer, interesting news came from the north. The Vierans had started to cut down the forests around Ocia. Some were even set on fire. Since then, it was quite clear that Ocia was already taking countermeasures for a siege. Taking away the resources and materials that would certainly have been used by the Paarese to build siege engines, was probably just one of the many preparations on the Vieran side. As far as Demnir was concerned, for now it had simply been a new selling argument his Paarese customers couldn''t refute. He had hoped for a larger order, but there was only so many parts Zeron''s group could smuggle across the Vieran city-states. Still, it was a lot of silver indeed. ¡°Yes,¡± Demnir eventually said with a nod, ¡°it''s as you say. It would be a shame to stop here.¡± ¡°Should have sticked with selling them siege engines, if you ask me...¡± Demnir stopped and faced him. ¡°But I''m not asking you,¡± he said coldly. The slave was getting a bit too comfortable with his objections lately, and Demnir knew that masters should never let their slaves act too friendly. Lest they forget their place. Seeing Nelvel''s frozen expression, Demnir smiled from ear to ear, perfectly aware that it would unnerve the slave even more. ¡°Besides, I never had the opportunity to ask for your opinion. Not a day goes by without you reminding me of your disapproval. I highly encourage you to voice your opinions, but don''t test my patience by insisting on matters we already discussed.¡± Nelvel muttered something that could have either been an insult or an apology, and they kept roaming the ship, overseeing the slaves loading the merchandise. Nelvel would occasionally receive word from the old Vieric, and then scribble something on his wax tablet. From luxury goods like rare wines, fine perfumes and costly spices, to the most basic dearies like bread, onions and potatoes, Demnir watched as his recent purchases were loaded on the two ships Samaar owned. The sailor himself was busy instructing his crew, and getting the ships ready. He noticed Demnir and Nelvel, and gestured to them. ¡°How is it going, then?¡± Samaar wondered once they had reached him. Demnir gave Nelvel a glance, and the slave cleared his throat. ¡°We''ve loaded four crates of Callirian pepper, four crates of Summer spices, err...¡± He went through his notes, his eyes darting from one tablet to another. ¡°Half a dozen crates of Summer wines, and as many from Tehen and Callir... We''re halfway done with the cheese, the perfume, and the-¡± ¡°Summer wines,¡± Samaar interrupted. ¡°Only half a dozen crates? I''d have loaded a hundred or two of these, if I were you.¡± Demnir snorted. ¡°I don''t plan on getting half the city blind drunk when they''re supposed to defend against the Paarese threat.¡± ¡°No, you don''t,¡± Samaar replied, staring with his piercing eyes as if he was trying to see through Demnir''s mind. ¡°Only the wealthy bastards eh?¡± He answered the sailor''s stare with a shrug. ¡°Who else? They''ve got a lot to lose. They''ll be under a lot of stress.¡± ¡°I wonder who they''ll have to thank for that. I''ve heard that carpenters and smiths all across the city have been busy working on some... heavy furniture. Your name came up more than once.¡± Truth be told, the same thing probably happened everywhere in the other city-states, and a man like Samaar was surely aware. ¡°It reminds me of that story, with the healer and the cure. Ever heard it?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Can''t say I have. But I sense I''m about to.¡± ¡°There was a healer, in the far east, who settled in a rich town, and got friendly with the locals as the years went by. One day, a terrible disease struck the town, and no matter what they did, the doctors couldn''t find a cure. Then the healer, who had already been accepted by everyone even though he was a foreigner, came up with a remedy. Only he claimed there was only so many people he could save with the amount of medicine he had. The town was a prosperous one, as I said, and the richest people were quick to use their wealth to get their hands on the medicine.¡± ¡°And so the healer became the richest man in town,¡± Demnir continued. ¡°He sure did.¡± An odd smile crept up on Samaar''s face. ¡°But then, just as everyone too poor to afford this limited remedy feared they would die, the disease somehow vanished. What do you think happened next?¡± Demnir chuckled and raised a finger. ¡°The people figured they were tricked by the healer.¡± Samaar looked surprised for half a second, but regained his composure almost immediately. ¡°Right,¡± he concluded nonchalantly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. ¡°Well, they gutted him in the end.¡± Hearing that, Demnir simply smiled, but Nelvel was anxiously glancing away. Samaar did not miss that and let out an explosive laugh, startling the slave at the same time. ¡°Well, well, don''t mind me. As long as I have my share... ''Twas just a bit of advice from someone who saw it all. The ones who succeed in this business are those who don''t hesitate to get every advantage they can.¡± ¡°I''m perfectly aware, don''t worry about it. Not everybody is as foolish as that healer of yours.¡± Samaar gave him another stare, which definitely seemed to be his preferred way of intimidation. Before it could turn into a contest of sorts, one of Samaar''s men called him for help. The sailor grunted and left Demnir and Nelvel amongst the crates and the slaves. ¡°I don''t get it,¡± Nelvel muttered. ¡°Did they kill him because they found out he had more medicine than he claimed to have, or because they felt he should have given it for free?¡± ¡°Hmm...¡± Demnir rubbed his chin, staring into the eastern horizon. From the port, he could see the occasional fishing boat in the distance. Despite the folklore and the legends, it seemed the fishermen were no longer afraid of the grey gods lurking in the sea. And if they are, they''re certainly brave. He looked back to Nelvel. ¡°That''s one way to see it.¡± ¡°How do you see it, then?¡± the slave replied, almost annoyed. ¡°...Diseases don''t simply vanish. Not suddenly and without explanation, anyway. I think the healer was responsible for the disease. He was a foreigner, wasn''t he? And a traveller. He must have had knowledge the town didn''t have, and he could have brought something nasty with him. Something only he would know how to cure in this land.¡± ¡°The locals would have suspected him, in that case...¡± ¡°Exactly, and that is why he waited a few years in order to gain their trust. Once he was a part of their community, he unleashed whatever scourge he could control, and it made him wealthy.¡± Nelvel frowned. ¡°Why was he caught, then? Rather, how could he be caught, after all this planning?¡± ¡°Maybe because in the end, he couldn''t bear to let all these people die just to satisfy his greed. He wouldn''t have been caught if he hadn''t stopped the disease.¡± They walked for a bit in silence, Nelvel occasionally scribbling notes on his tablet. ¡°It''s a twisted way of seeing things,¡± the slave eventually said. ¡°I think it''s a kind one,¡± Demnir said with a shrug. ¡°At the very end, something got in the way of his greed. Morals, perhaps... Guilt, most likely.¡± ¡°Yeah, I wonder if there''s anything kind about a man being gutted because he felt guilty about infecting an entire town,¡± Nelvel mocked, rolling his eyes. ¡°Well, it''s just a story, anyway. Samaar probably came up with it to make a point. The healer failed at the last moment because he was either incompetent, indecisive, or weak-hearted, and our good friend merely hopes I won''t do the same mistake because he needs me alive and rich if I''m going to pay him handsomely.¡± No matter how amusing or scary this little story was meant to be, it didn''t teach me anything new. Demnir never had any intention to let such things get in his way. In the way of profit. He needed money, he needed the power that came with it. He needed a lot, and he needed it quick. Right now, Ocia was the fastest way. The majority of the profit, however, wouldn''t really come from the elite enjoying smoked salt and exotic fruits and whatnot while their city was besieged. The most valuable thing Demnir would be smuggling in Ocia was, without a doubt, his mind ¨C his very specific knowledge of dangerous herbalism and siege engines. Both fields that would certainly find many willing investors in a besieged city filled with rich merchants and nervous nobles... The heavy crates these poor slaves were getting all sweaty for were merely a bonus. Had Nelvel known that, he''d probably ask, why go to such lengths? Because I can, Demnir would then answer. It was also a way to make him look the part of a regular merchant, in case Samaar failed to smuggle the goods in Ocia and they had to deal with the blockade. ¡°How thrilling,¡± he muttered almost joyously. Nelvel gave him a strange look, but said nothing. Still, nothing was decided yet. The Paarese may have bought Demnir''s inventions, but unless they put it to use, his journey to Ocia was somewhat meaningless. He had to make sure the Paarese resorted to besieging the city, or at least, bait them into doing so, and he had to make sure it lasted long enough for him to profit. Get every advantage I can. He let out a sigh, and decided to write the letter he had been thinking about for a while. He wasn''t eager to involve Rina, especially when he knew she would never refuse him anything, even if it meant getting dragged in a pointless conflict. But in the end, just like him, she would benefit from it. ¡°Fetch me ink and paper, Nelvel.¡± The slave complied, took the tools out of a leather pouch. Demnir flattened the scroll atop a wooden crate and began to write. Moments later, he handed it over to Nelvel for waxing and whatnot. ¡°Where should I send it?¡± Nelvel asked. Demnir gave him a long, thoughtful stare. Surely, it was better to keep him in the dark about these dramatic and unavoidable developments for now. As good as Nelvel''s acting was, Demnir had found that even the best actors often paled against true unwitting pawns. He''ll figure it out by himself eventually, but... ¡°You can read it, if you want,¡± Demnir said, studying the slave''s expression. ¡°Then you''ll know.¡± Nelvel''s confusion quickly turned into curiosity, then cautiousness. He perhaps wondered if this was a trick or a trap. Or maybe he felt there was no going back if he decided to read it ¨C and rightfully so. In the end, he never set his eyes on it, instead rolled it tightly and waited for Demnir''s instructions. ¡°We''ll not send it, Nelvel. Instead, Vieric shall bring it to Callir in person.¡± ¡°...As you wish.¡± Vieric would have to be mindful of his accent and his manners, but Demnir was confident the middle-aged slave would manage to give Rina the letter. It wasn''t something he could risk Phiramel intercepting, this time, and if Vieric followed his instructions carefully, then it was a much safer option to deliver it by hand. The Vieran slave also had another important job, one that he would do before leaving Akilne and riding toward Callir while the rest of them would be on their way to Ocia. Nelvel wasn''t aware, obviously. He''d surely be against burning down the workshop. He was content with it, after all. That was because Nelvel wouldn''t understand the merchant''s way. He wasn''t fully committed. This act needs to be perfect, and if even the slightest detail can help me convince the lords and ladies of Ocia that I''m on their side... Nelvel and the healer who got himself gutted, they were the same kind. They did things half-heartedly. Demnir, though? He was a merchant prince. The Merchants Law - Chapter 30 ¡°Ocia was supposedly the last of these cities to be reached by the faith of Viera. It is common knowledge that at the time, those who believed in her burning fire clashed with some Daeli natives who tried to spread the values of Pelirise across the strait. But for a number of reasons, I surmise the religious history of that city is much more ancient, and we should not dismiss the possibility of its builders and forerunners worshipping the primordial deities of the Grey Sea. -Tarhas, History of the Known World¡± * * * Ezveril Despite the soft warmth of the sun, she felt a chill, and the cold air coming from the balcony gave her goose bumps. The balcony from her own chamber had always been somewhat windy, since it was located fairly high, but Vierodel''s apartments were the worst so far. From up here, Ezveril watched the city with its narrow streets and its reddish roofs, the walls with their tall towers, the ships blocking the strait, and their sails painted in gold and purple. Sipping her spiced tea, listening to the conversation that took place nearby, with a more or less attentive ear. ¡°...and the warehouses are full, we''ve gathered as much wheat as we could,¡± said a tall man in a leather attire. From time to time she would see him unshaved, ring mail over his torso and swordbelt at his waist, but today he was clean and proper, and had the purple half cape some distinguished Vieran citizens would often wear. ¡°Good work, captain Flavo,¡± Vierodel said with a satisfied nod, playing with his long hair like always. He was lying on his side, stuck between the massive velvet cushions of a divan. His mother had agreed to let him take part in the preparations of the city''s defences, and while she''d usually attend, today she wasn''t there. ¡°I trust we''re almost done with our defences, too? And tunnels, I''m worried about tunnels.¡± If he shared the lord''s worries, captain Flavo did very little to show it, his face as hard and indecipherable as ever. ¡°Masons and stoneworkers are taking care of a couple places I deemed unsafe. And we have plenty of wood for our carpenters to work with. More than enough, I''d say.¡± ¡°The question is, do we have enough carpenters to work that wood?¡± Saerge Segheon sighed, wandering aimlessly on the colourful carpets. His sigh sounded somewhat forced, and he was probably tired or bored rather than anxious. ¡°I don''t care if we have plenty of wood, it''s plenty of arrows and catapults we need.¡± Ezveril glanced at the horizon, beyond the walls. There had been a couple of small woods not far from here, not so long ago. Now she couldn''t even see a single trunk. Her eyes wandered again in the room, observing everyone here. She stared a bit longer at the silent Hilne, who had traded her suit of plate armour for a more comfortable grey doublet, though her longsword still hung at her waist. The sigil of the Neraldes family stitched discretely on the breast, three silvery moons sewn in the dark fabric. She''s far more elegant than anyone else in the room. ¡°Any word from your spies, my lord?¡± Saerge then asked Vierodel. ¡°I fear the Paarese may have reached out to Callir.¡± Vierodel bit in a cherry, the juice running along his fingers. He spat the stone in a bowl, sucked his fingers, and shrugged. ¡°Last I heard, the Blood Church hasn''t come to an official decision yet, but it seems there''s talk of war. Even so, it won''t matter. Akilne stands in their way, whether they try to come by land or by sea.¡± ¡°That is, if the council of Akilne sides with us.¡± Hearing that, Vierodel frowned and sighed in exasperation. Flavo, however, didn''t even blink. ¡°What are you suggesting? They have no reason to side with the Paarese.¡± ¡°No, of course.¡± Lord Segheon extended an arm toward the balcony, and the city. ¡°They have reasons to side against Dael, however. Paarese agents are still spreading rumours about Ocia becoming a vassal of Dael, and with each day passing more and more people are lending a worried ear to these claims.¡± Vierodel''s frown worsened and he glanced at Flavo. ¡°Is this matter not solved yet?¡± the young lord inquired. The captain bowed as low as he could, but his indifferent voice had no hint of care or guilt. ¡°My lord, I must apologise. Troublemakers keep disturbing the city despite my men''s best efforts. For each agitator we arrest, another ten appear.¡± ¡°Then question the ones we caught. I don''t care how, but have them cough up the names of their accomplices before it gets out of hand. Make an example out of these Paarese dogs if need be. Your men may as well release some of that nervousness before the siege, don''t you think?¡± Ezveril thought that captain Flavo flashed a smile for a split-second, but she couldn''t be sure. Perhaps it was her imagination. She knew Flavo as an unexpressive wall rather than a vicious bully. In any case, it did nothing to better her opinion of the man. I don''t like him. Saerge cleared his throat. ¡°My lord, I would advise against it. Trust me when I say that these arrests don''t go unnoticed. The more these agitators get... silenced, the more attention it will attract. Our efforts would be all for naught. Even your lady mother forbade needless violence against Vieran citizens.¡± ¡°Bah, they''re not even Vierans,¡± Vierodel muttered, his purple lips pursed. ¡°And those who sell their honour to Paar have no right to call themselves citizens of Ocia.¡± He looked grumpy, that much was obvious, but Ezveril guessed there was something else. He''s nervous. And rightfully so, if she had to say. Even Ezveril wouldn''t allow herself to be reassured by Saerge or Flavo, when the former''s cautiousness hinted at the uncertainty of the situation, and the latter''s indifference had probably more to do with a lack of emotion, or a surplus of confidence, rather than a genuine and justified feeling of safety. ...Perhaps I''m overthinking it. ¡°Anyhow,¡± Vierodel of Ocia eventually said, waving his hand in annoyance. ¡°You''re all dismissed. Captain, make them speak. Just don''t go too far, and try not to attract attention.¡± ¡°As you wish,¡± captain Flavo said, bowing, before stepping out with everyone else. Ezveril left with Hilne Neraldes and Saerge Segheon. Vierodel gave her a kind smile, followed by a nod, and she answered in kind, perfectly aware that his polite smile was merely masking his annoyance. He began playing a tune on his harp as the doors closed behind her. He''d do that whenever he wanted to vent his anger or ease his mind. Dedicate himself to music or poetry... or simply call for the pleasure slaves. Ezveril sighed. She needed air ¨C not the windy air of the balconies, and certainly not the filthy, reeking air of the palace. The gardens of the palace wouldn''t do either, as she''d risk meeting Atricia of Ocia there, and the lady-regent was the last person Ezveril wanted to see right now. Or ever, in fact. ¡°I want to go outside, Hilne,¡± she muttered.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Your highness,¡± the knight answered sorrily, ¡°I would recommend against it. With such rumours and such unrest in the city, the streets aren''t safe for the royal blood of Dael.¡± ...And we cannot risk giving credence to these rumours. Of course, she was aware. Still, Ezveril pouted, trying to get her sympathy. ¡°But you''re with me, right? I''ll be fine as long as you''re here. Please...¡± Saerge, who was lurking behind them ¨C Ezveril didn''t need to see him to know, his perfume was enough ¨C suddenly interjected in the princess'' favour. ¡°Where''s the harm, lady Neraldes? I, for one, would like to get a feel of the city, see for myself if it''s as bad as they say. Why don''t you two come along? The noble features of her highness aren''t known to the common people. Have men of the citywatch accompany you, if you must.¡± The lord ambassador certainly had nothing to worry about. His accent could still betray his Daeli birth, but at least with his skin, he looked the part of a native Vieran. Unlike Ezveril and her knight, whose pale complexion and sky-coloured eyes weren''t all that common in these lands. An upset Hilne probably meant to protest such things, but she didn''t bother to argue. Perhaps I should dye my hair purple, like lady Atricia keeps telling me to do, she thought as they rode in a carriage flanked by guards both on foot and on horseback. But it would give Atricia satisfaction, something Ezveril couldn''t accept. They drew the curtains of the carriage, so she could see the city. Unchanged, she thought. Not that she expected to see packs of guards hunting down these would-be street orators she heard mention of, but still. ¡°Lord Segheon,¡± she said, eyes still observing the streets. ¡°You said earlier that Callir might side with our enemies.¡± The ambassador gave her a glance before shrugging. ¡°Ah, well... Let us not speak half-truths ¨C they will side with our enemies.¡± Ezveril squinted her eyes, but she wasn''t that surprised. ¡°And are you not worried?¡± As for me, I sure am. ¡°It''s been... expected of them. They merely needed one last push before going at war with us. The Paarese belligerence was an opportunity for Callir.¡± The farther away they went from the palace, the more Ezveril began to notice changes. Carriages filled with stone and wood, workers and soldiers wandering around, carrying tools and whatnot. Slaves moving crates and barrels. Their contents unknown to Ezveril, but she could try and guess. Food, probably. Steel and arrows, perhaps. Oil? ¡°Is that why the Paarese haven''t attacked us yet? Because they were looking for allies?¡± ¡°In all likelihood,¡± Saerge said with a nod. ¡°They cannot risk failure, and they surely want to prepare themselves fully. In the first place, it''s unlikely they could manage to smuggle a whole army and enough siege engines through the Vieran states. So they have to gather the means to besiege us in some other way.¡± ¡°Mercenary companies,¡± Hilne stated flatly. ¡°As long as they have gold and silver, the Paarese won''t have trouble finding siege weaponry and men to wield it.¡± She seldom took part in this kind of conversation, which puzzled Ezveril. ¡°You should be in charge of the city''s defences, Hilne,¡± she said with a smile. But the knight seemed to think otherwise as she shook her head slightly. ¡°I have no experience with sieges, princess. And more importantly, this isn''t my city ¨C better have someone who knows the place in charge... no matter how much you may dislike them.¡± Hilne probably knew that Ezveril had no sympathy, much less trust, toward the captain of the citywatch, Flavo. Perhaps the knight didn''t like him either. What she says is right, she admitted. If it was Dael or the Moonlit Castle, Hilne''s home, then yes, perhaps... But Ocia was a foreign city, with a foreign population. The carriage passed a street full of workshops and smithies. Already the blacksmiths were working the steel, heating the coals, making Ezveril''s ears ring with each hammer strike. Passersby would of course steal glances at the carriage, wondering who could afford being escorted by the citywatch, but they soon got back to minding their own business. All in all, if onlookers somehow guessed that the carriage''s passengers were Daeli, they didn''t seem to really care. ¡°Hmm.¡± Saerge Segheon stretched his head outside and exchanged a few words with the guards. The carriage left the blacksmith district and Saerge took notice of Ezveril''s curious stare. ¡°I''ll show you something, princess.¡± They passed in front of a large workshop of carpenters, and Ezveril glimpsed at some devices she had seen once or twice during her life in Dael, mainly when she had first left the castle''s walls and visited the rest of the capital with her father. She couldn''t recall much, what with being a small child at the time. But she could remember a younger Hilne explaining her the purpose of these things. Though most of Ezveril''s memories were about Hilne herself rather than the content of her explanations. At the time, she had only begun to understand what a splendid feat it was, for a woman, to stand here as a royal guard. Even though Ezveril had yet to learn what it really meant to be a woman in this world. Those were joyous days. And how could she forget, there was also the cheering crowds and the king, already old but still healthy at the time. King Arvus, riding a beautiful stallion and waving at the people. Her father the crown-prince was acclaimed too, and he looked bright and radiant under the sun, both his pale golden hair and his magnificent armour shining upon the world. Held high was the floating banner of Agel''s descendants, a golden bird on a field of azure sky. Then of course, there was princess Noctine Neraldes, catching the eye of every man in the kingdom since the youngest age. Noctine was Ezveril''s cousin, and only a distant relative of Hilne, but despite that, the older princess had inherited more of the Neraldes traits, with her height, her hair as dark as the night itself, her lovely thick eyebrows, and all that. Yet it did not seem like Hilne was especially close to her ¨C perhaps it had to do with the knight coming from a lesser branch ¨C whereas Noctine had always been kind and friendly with all of the siblings and cousins from the rest of the Agelien line, Ezveril amongst them. Regardless, sometimes Ezveril felt envious of the attention they''d give her cousin. Sometimes, she felt relieved that it was Noctine, and not her. Nowadays, she wasn''t sure how she felt ¨C after all, it wasn''t Noctine who had been shipped away to Ocia, but Ezveril. She snapped out of her reminiscing when she heard a coarse bellowing followed by a number of grumbling voices. She glanced at Hilne, then Saerge, saw their unworried faces, and followed their gaze outside. They were at the port already, and the least she could say was that the atmosphere was different. Or was it the smell of fish and drunkards? ¡°If there''s any place in the city where we''ll find trouble and tension, it has to be here.¡± Lord Segheon pointed at a crowd further down, on the quays. Men of the citywatch, men on horseback, and a bunch of people yelling at them. ¡°That''s the harbormaster,¡± he continued, motioning toward one of the riders, a middle-aged dignitary Ezveril had perhaps seen on her first day in Ocia, at the feast. Fat and sweaty in his purple silks, he listened with a bored look to the complaints of the other group. ¡°I gather he has to deal with angry sailors and enraged merchants.¡± ¡°Why is that?¡± Saerge then pointed to the ships. Yellow sails. Others had a bright, colourful sun with a smiling profile painted on them, in that funny eastern style. Under the stern stares of the citywatch, slaves were unloading cargo from the ships. Some had skin darker than coal, other had curious shades of gold and copper. ¡°Most of these ships were stopped from crossing the strait. We cannot let all this fine merchandise go to waste. They are from Paar, from Tehen, or from the Dominion, and of course none of them want to see their goods stolen away like that.¡± Talk about discretion. If lord Vierodel wanted to prevent troublemakers from, well, making trouble, he could begin there. ¡°I think I get why some people are having doubts about the lords of Ocia,¡± she said. ¡°I''m sure there must be better ways to handle the matter?¡± ¡°Oh, but of course. It''s always preferable to strike a deal, and most of the time we manage to work out an agreement. But when these people refuse our offer of trade and hospitality and start to insult us, we have to make an example out of them. We of Ocia will ask for their cooperation, and will take what we need if they refuse. It''s a show of strength. We don''t have much of a choice anyway.¡± But then, farther away at the end of the docks, an old merchant with that odd golden skin colour was ordering his men around as they carried crates and crates of fish. She could see as her carriage passed by, from the common tuna to the large sharks of the southern seas, there were all sorts of creatures. A few of these things, Ezveril had never seen before ¨C a bright blue octopus and some translucent sea-snakes, whatever the hell these were. Occasionally, the guards had a taste of the food, but otherwise they didn''t touch the merchandise, nor did they bother the old merchant. Another merchant, young and clad in red velvet, chatting and jesting with a tall, hairy sailor, and a couple of guards, while his slaves carried away bags and chests and barrels. Here again, none of the guards were confiscating the goods. Instead, their pockets were probably filled with silver. What a lawful, honest bunch, she mocked bitterly, frowning, as she glanced away from Flavo''s men. ¡°We can also make use of their ships, to help defend the port until our fleet arrives,¡± Hilne said, referring to the Daeli ships that were expected to come. Ezveril had been told that the Daeli fleet would have to wait until the siege began before coming to their rescue. Else it would show that they were prepared for a siege. It was all about making the Paarese attackers appear as the offenders, when really it was the Daeli influence and the blockade that started it all. Nobody in Ocia is expecting defeat, she had realised some time ago. They can afford to treat this diplomatic incident as their little game because they''re convinced it''ll go their way. They knew the whole thing was staged by her father, Arthian Agelien. What reason was there to doubt him? Ezveril had never heard anyone doubting her father''s abilities, whether they admired him or openly hated him. Even I am no exception, she thought, perhaps trying to fool herself. The Merchants Law - Chapter 31 ¡°I wouldn''t say Ocia is the city with the largest number of brothels in the world, but it''s certainly known to have some of the finest ones. From every town and nation, people who have too much money come to see and experience the pleasures of Ocia. The priestesses here are gorgeous, clean and enthralling, and there''s nothing like a cup of Vieran wine or some sleep-grass after honouring the goddess. -traveller¡± * * * Nelvel Nelvel awoke at sunrise. He quickly dressed up and was about to prepare breakfast and whatnot for his master, when he remembered they were no longer in Akilne, but had been staying in one of Ocia''s inns for the past few days. He would still remember the darkness and the smell of the sewer tunnels they took on a small boat to get inside the city, so they could pay the guards and the harbourmaster before sailing Saamar''s ships in the port. The pirate seemed to know his way around, and could easily sneak through the small beaches and cliffs and hidden passages around the port. A real smuggler indeed. Nelvel pinched the bridge of his nose and went to knock at Demnir''s door before entering his room. ¡°Ah, you''re up,¡± the noble said, glancing over his shoulder as he washed his face with water from a wooden bowl. He buttoned a shirt of white silk, donned his doublet over it, put on his half-cape, then turned to face Nelvel, arms spread. Nelvel observed him, adjusted the cape, and nodded. ¡°And so are you. Shall I go ask them to bring your meal?¡± ¡°No, let''s break our fast downstairs,¡± Demnir said. ¡°We''re in a hurry.¡± ¡°What''s the occasion?¡± The noble smiled, and it was one of his annoying nonchalant grins. ¡°Haven''t I told you? Today''s audience day.¡± Nelvel stood there and frowned, confused. No, you haven''t told me. Demnir apparently felt obliged to explain further. ¡°There''ll surely be a number of peasants and merchants and lordlings attending, too. I don''t want to spend the entire day waiting, so we need to get there early.¡± ¡°As you say,¡± Nelvel concluded, not looking forward at all to a day of standing and waiting. They ate in the inn''s main hall, had roasted quail, bread with eggs, cheese, figs and olives. The food was fine and the place itself was clean. Slowly, the hall got more and more crowded, as rich merchants and wealthy travelling families awoke and came to take their meal. These people probably came from farms and estates throughout the city-state, fleeing the countryside for the safety of the walls. Nelvel wondered if it was really wise to spend money on such a high-class inn when they had just arrived, but he figured it wasn''t worth bringing it up, and decided to enjoy the food instead. The palace stood tall on a hill, towers of cream and golden bricks and red tiles, rows of open windows and balconies. The northern parts of the hill turned into a cliff, overlooking the port and the ships. They rode upward ¨C or rather, Demnir rode at a trot while Nelvel walked, as usual. His was the only horse they brought on board, the same fine stallion he had when he took a ship from Callir to Akilne. The horse, the red velvet clothing, the fancy sword, he still had everything. Only, now the noble had added two ships worth of merchandise to his belongings. ¡°Where''s Samaar, by the way?¡± Nelvel wondered. On his saddle, Demnir shrugged. ¡°Who knows? Drinking and whoring somewhere in a brothel, I surmise. Ocia is the city of pleasure, after all. It''s not like I wished for him to come along, anyway.¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°I''d sooner buy him half the courtesans in the whole city, than have his vulgar pirate face by my side when I''m speaking with the local lords and ladies.¡± Nelvel raised a brow. He has a point. A man like Samaar was most useful when one had to deal with thugs, sailors or sellswords, but nobility? Truly, Demnir was probably the only noble who could enjoy Samaar''s company. The palace guards wouldn''t even let Samaar in. His intuition was confirmed when they approached the gates ¨C the guards, clad in chainmail, with longswords, halberds and pikes in hand, were watchful and cautious. An officer on horseback, purple feathers on his iron helm, was giving out instructions to his men and the visitors alike. In all likelihood, the guards were looking for Paarese agents that might try to sneak into the palace, but they also took this as an opportunity to kick some drunkards and beggars. ¡°Get the hell away, stinky bastard,¡± said one, before laughing at a poor old man crawling down the steps leading to the gates. The beggar got on his clumsy feet, staggered and stumbled toward Demnir and Nelvel, and had to catch the noble''s leg to avoid falling. Now that he was close, Nelvel understood why the guards had thrown him away so harshly. Reeking of booze, puke and shit, he smelled so bad, the slave couldn''t help but gag. Even Demnir''s horse neighed in horror. ¡°By Viera''s tits,¡± Demnir growled, ¡°old man, let go of me before I also kick you.¡± ¡°Viera''s tits,¡± the beggar repeated, shaking his head and at the same time swinging his greasy mess of grey hair and beard. ¡°Why''s everyone saying this? Eh? Have an idea? They don''t, for sure, they don''t,¡± he said, motioning for the people around. His voice was coarse and hard on the ears, harder perhaps than his breath was for the nose. ¡°Flat as a shield, her chest! My poor goddess... And you,¡± he whispered, eyes on the noble. ¡°You, you, you, roaming these streets without a worry. You shouldn''t be, and yet! Why are you here?¡± ¡°Stop your nonsense, old man,¡± Nelvel said hurriedly, fearing Demnir would do worse than simply kick him. The noble was glaring at the beggar, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword, something mad and eerie in his ghostly grey eyes. ¡°Foolishness...¡± The old man grimaced, let out a belch, and fell in silence. Then, for whatever reason, he decided to wobble away as if he''d forgotten them, and he kept muttering again, ¡°foolishness, foolishness,¡± before finding someone else to annoy. Overhearing the drunk laughter of the beggar and the complaining of whoever he was inflicting himself on, Nelvel glanced at Demnir, and whatever daunting expression he had before, it was now gone. ¡°I expect we''ll find Samaar in a similar state by the end of the day,¡± the noble said with a smile. ¡°Ocia can do wonders for your health, it seems.¡± Nelvel did not comment on the joke. Stable boys came to take care of the visitors'' horses, and before long they entered the palace. Some twenty supplicants stood there in the antechamber, waiting for their turn in the hall ¨C waiting to be heard by one lord Vierodel. Lady Atricia''s son, I gather. A steward came to inquire about Demnir''s name and purpose, and meanwhile Nelvel could more or less overhear what requests were spoken inside, and what answers were given. Mostly people complaining about the citywatch wrongfully arresting a brother or a son for speaking ill of the nobility, about taverns and inns being too crowded, or about whores being on uncomfortably high demand. That last matter seemed to come up quite often. ¡°The other day, I''ve waited two hours until they found me someone! Never happened before. I tell you, m''lord, when brothels can''t satisfy customers no more, it''s a sign something''s wrong in the city, aye, something real wrong,¡± said a chubby man who had the perfect indecency to bring his plump wife with him. Nelvel couldn''t see him from here, but he clearly remembered the couple entering the hall a minute ago. Vieran mores, I guess... The same melodious voice of the Vieran nobility answered the man. ¡°Thank you for telling me what is wrong with my city. But perhaps your finances are the real issue, wouldn''t you agree? I''m told heavy purses easily open the doors of the most serviceable establishments. If you''ve unburdened yourself of too much silver already, why not find some use for that lovely wife of yours?¡± Chuckles and snickers echoed and the man burst out in anger. The wife apparently joined in mocking her husband, for some reason. They began to argue, and the both of them were almost dragged out of the hall by a pair of guards ¨C and now it was Demnir''s turn. Nelvel gave him an uneasy glance, unnerved by the whimsical nature of the lord they would have to deal with, but the noble only grinned. ¡°Merchant Demnir, of Callir,¡± someone introduced him. Nelvel didn''t fail to notice how Demnir wasn''t introduced as a lord or a sir ¨C whether it was a rudeness from the steward or a deliberate choice from the noble, the slave didn''t know. Now that I think about it, he never talks much about his birth, or even his past. And wasn''t he way too young to be called a sir? Unless Callirian knighthood could be acquired before twenty-and-one, which, to Nelvel''s knowledge, was unheard of.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Demnir glanced over the room, his eyes stopping on each face present, and Nelvel did the same, more discreetly. Administrators and tax-masters, lordlings, dignitaries, officers. Eventually, he faced the lord seated at the high table, a massive monster of sculpted wood atop a couple of steps, and gave a curt bow. ¡°Greetings, lord Vierodel.¡± ¡°Good day,¡± the lord answered with a nod. He was young, too, had maybe only a year or two more than Nelvel, and with his long hair, his painted lips and his silky robes, he looked quite effeminate. ¡°What is your purpose here?¡± ¡°I, a merchant, came to this beautiful city to offer my services, my lord. My trade is most particular, and I trust you''ll be interested in it.¡± Lord Vierodel''s face was unreadable, his eyes dreamy and aloof. Perhaps he was simply bored. ¡°And may I ask, what is it that you sell, merchant Demnir?¡± ¡°Why, a helping hand in defeating this city''s besiegers.¡± He said that flatly, the way one would answer ''blue'' when asked for the colour of the sky. The Vierans at the lord''s side whispered amongst themselves. One, square jaw and brown balding hair, in gold and dark green robes, rubbed his shaved chin with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Another, a tall man with a purple half-cape and a cold mean face, scoffed loudly. ¡°My lord, allow me to explain,¡± Demnir carried on. Vierodel nodded, and his retainers were silenced with a single hand gesture. ¡°I believe it is no secret nowadays ¨C the negotiations between Paar and Ocia regarding this blockade have long failed, whatever wood and crops left unharvested in the state have been burnt, and masons, blacksmiths and carpenters have been put to work. You''re preparing for a siege. And, perhaps you''ve heard, all across the Vieran states, mercenary companies have started to move, weapon-smiths have been approached, and secret talks are commonplace.¡± ¡°One would almost think you''re well informed,¡± Vierodel said suspiciously. ¡°Oh, you have no idea.¡± Again, Demnir beamed one of his large smiles. ¡°As a matter of fact, my lord, I myself have been contacted by Paarese agents.¡± ¡°Is that so. And have you answered their demands?¡± ¡°I must admit doing so. I''ve provided them with a number of siege engines. It is my profession, after all, but-¡± ¡°But today you''re speaking to a lord whose enemies you''ve helped. I could simply ask captain Flavo here,¡± he said, pointing to the caped and cold-faced wall of a man, ¡°to have his men arrest you and execute you for your crimes. No sane man with your history would come in my city and seek my attention, yet here you are.¡± ¡°Yet here I am,¡± Demnir acquiesced. During this exchange, some new faces had entered the hall through one of the doors in the back, and joined the listeners from afar. A girl and a woman, standing still, and standing out, a bit apart from the rest of the seated retainers. They immediately caught Nelvel''s attention. The woman, tall, dark-haired, but pale, and dressed in a manner of clothing that felt familiar. The girl was just a child with clear eyes and light brown hair, and while her dress was of Vieran origin, she herself certainly wasn''t. Foreigners, he thought. He glanced back at the tall woman, and it made sense ¨C her grey doublet was a Daeli attire, he remembered seeing it on the other side of the Middle Sea. For some reason, he was reminded of a jousting tourney he had watched with his father, long ago, when he was still young and free. When his father was still alive, wandering the world, learning about languages, cultures, and history. Not bothering to question why a woman would wear a knight clothing or a sword at her waist, Nelvel stared at the young girl instead. Is she the Daeli princess we''ve heard of? She held herself with grace and elegance, but there was none of the scorn and haughtiness he''d expect to see on the expression of a young, sheltered princess. Whatever her thoughts were, she hid them well and her face was entirely likeable. All the more reason for Nelvel to dislike her. ¡°If I may, my lord,¡± Demnir said, ¡°I ask that you hear my story. Then you''ll decide whether to remove my head or to consider my offer.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± ¡°I come from Callir. You must know about the events that happened there, so you won''t be surprised to learn that I chose to leave rather than stay and get dragged in a pointless conflict. We might not see many heads roll in Callir, but there''s plenty of slit wrists and bloodied daggers. I sailed to Akilne, where I settled and built a business from scratch. I was very proud of it, and as a weapon-smith, I was starting to have a bit of a reputation amongst the polite society. Then, as I told you, I was approached by a mercenary company. ¡°Truth must be told, my lord, I had yet to know about their true intent, and I assumed they would be warring against Callir. I had lost my affection for this place, and had no reason to deny these customers my services.¡± A few whispers and laments echoed in the hall. Apparently, abandoning one''s homeland was not the honourable thing to do, but Nelvel knew this story here was probably a web of lies. In any case, some parts were clearly false. ¡°The city-states of Viera have been kind and good to me, so when I learned that these mercenaries were planning to use my inventions for a far more terrible purpose, I was drown in guilt and I cursed my fortune. Be aware, my lord, that my creations aren''t the run-of-the-mill siege machinery. The pride I take in my work is well-deserved, and I gather it is the reason they contacted me in the first place.¡± ¡°Then what did you do, once you knew they planned to siege Ocia?¡± said Vierodel, who seemed to have found interest in this story during the short periods of time he wasn''t busy playing with his hair. No doubt he merely saw it as an entertaining tale, rather than a touching confession. ¡°I tried to revoke my contract with them, of course. They wouldn''t let me, they even threatened me when they heard I refused to come with them as an engineer, and before long, things escalated. I had no choice but to flee. You surely have friends in Akilne ¨C ask anyone, and you''ll hear about my workshop, and how it is only ash and charred wood now. Before they could also torch my ships, I took my diagrams, my slaves, and what goods I had left, before sailing to Ocia.¡± Nelvel frowned. A web of lie for sure ¨C Nelvel had no love for these professional murderers, but Zeron and his men had never been too disrespectful, much less violent. Had Demnir really burnt the workshop, then? I damn hope this is a bluff. Vierodel pressed a thumb against his painted lips. ¡°So, what is it that you want? Justice?¡± Despite his age, the lord had the expression of a child ruler who was about to administer justice for the first time, and Nelvel wondered if Vierodel had ever taken seriously his duties as a lord before now. Demnir flashed a faint smile. The ghost of a smile, certainly, but that could only mean the conversation was going his way. ¡°My lord, I would not consider myself a righteous man, and justice is not what I''m looking for.¡± He put a hand on his chest. ¡°Revenge, my lord. I came to Ocia in hopes of getting revenge against these Paarese oppressors. Of course, I am a merchant, and a ruined one at that, thanks to those thieves. Restoring my wealth is part of my revenge. My services are costly, but you''ll not regret buying them. Paar and their mercenaries are marching on Ocia with a technology you have yet to see, and if I may be blunt, no one here would know how to deal with it better than I could. I would also be surprised if the Callirians did not join in the attack, for I know how much they hate your people. I have a number of devices and contraptions I wish to try out, too. As I said, I''m no charitable soul, but pay me in silver and I''ll do my utmost to reimburse you in Paarese heads.¡± Vierodel fell deep in thought. Nelvel himself would have probably been convinced by this last speech, had he been in the lord''s shoes. Demnir had peeled off a layer of decency and made his greedy merchant character seem like his honest self. Only, thanks to the time he had spent with the noble, Nelvel guessed there were many more layers underneath ¨C but Vierodel and his retainers couldn''t possibly be aware of it. The man named Flavo slipped a couple of words, then it was the man in green and gold who whispered a few lines in the lord''s ear. The lord nodded, and after a moment, he addressed Demnir. ¡°Lord ambassador Segheon believes we should give you a chance. I''m inclined to agree ¨C I think opportunists are the most trustworthy people in the world. We''ll do as if your last sentence wasn''t the only bit of truth in your speech.¡± Demnir bowed, and motioned for Nelvel to do the same. ¡°Many thanks, my lord.¡± ¡°You must be craving for the comfort of a home, after leaving Akilne the way you did.¡± Vierodel snapped his fingers and gave a nod to a pair of guards. ¡°They will show you to a guest room in the palace, Demnir of Callir. I''ll have captain Flavo and a handful of smiths and carpenters hear out your suggestions this afternoon. I dearly hope, for your own sake, that your craft is as refined as your eloquence would led us to believe.¡± Two men in chainmail escorted Demnir and Nelvel inside the palace. They climbed a number of staircases, but the floor they stopped at was probably not that high, when taking into account the height of some of the towers he saw from outside. As they walked, Demnir slowed down and fell back, away from the guards. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked quietly. Nelvel gave him a confused look. ¡°The girl. Is she the princess from Dael?¡± ¡°There''s a good chance. She''s a westerner, at the very least.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Demnir rubbed his chin. ¡°The lord is wiser than he looks ¨C or perhaps his advisors are the wise ones. Many wouldn''t think twice before making an enemy out of a potential ally simply because they don''t know enough about him.¡± ¡°That was dangerous. They could have simply seized and tortured you until you told them everything you know.¡± ¡°Unlikely,¡± Demnir said with a shrug. ¡°Have you seen the city? Everywhere, people are complaining about the city-watch arresting innocents. They cannot afford to act like violent tyrants right now, what with rumours and all.¡± True. All in all, whatever silver Demnir would have them spend on his merchandise, it wouldn''t be too hefty a price compared to the unneeded trouble they''d cause by publicly arresting a merchant ¨C who was simply offering his help as far as everyone was concerned. The nobility of Ocia was richer than rich anyway, they could afford to pay him. Still, they could have taken him in secret. In fact, there was no guarantee they had abandoned the idea... ¡°You''re tense,¡± Demnir observed. ¡°Stop glancing around, it makes you look suspicious.¡± He nodded, though he felt if there was one person deserving to be called suspicious, it was the greedy merchant and his lies. Speaking of lies... ¡°What was that, about the workshop? You haven''t really burnt it, have you?¡± Demnir let out a sharp laugh, and the guards glanced behind, reproachful looks on their faces. I don''t know why I expected him to give a honest answer. Nelvel muttered an insult, too low for the noble to understand, but loud enough for him to know he had been insulted. ¡°Nelvel,¡± he said, not mindful of the guards anymore, ¡°I''ll need you to ready my tools and send word to our men. I don''t know how long we have, so crafting begins tonight. I''ll ask lord Vierodel for a decent place where the smiths, carpenters and chemists can sleep and work. And I have a task for Samaar, if you somehow manage to find him in this charming lust-filled fortress of a city.¡± ¡°...You''re confident they''ll let you do your thing.¡± Demnir waved his hand with an obnoxious nonchalance. ¡°Oh, but of course they will.¡± The Merchants Law - Chapter 32 ¡°Famed for its rocky plains, its canyons and its mines, the northern duchies of Paar are akin to strongholds sculpted by nature. Keeps and castles built in mountains and connected by galleries, a seemingly infinite source of both common and precious ore, such are the strengths of these lands. The price of it, the Paarese pay by lacking cultivable lands and abounding in covetous neighbours. -Euronel, A Study of Western Military and Statecraft¡± * * * Rina She kept silent as Horace held her hand, feeling the shaking, feeling her pulse, and nodding mysteriously. The aching in her head would come and go ¨C today, it was quite present. However marvellous Xito''s blessing was for mending sliced flesh and broken bones, it seemed it did very little against plants. The bearded old man looked straight in her eyes, and even though there wasn''t even a frown hinting at his thoughts, Rina knew that he wasn''t approving of it. ¡°You''re taking too much, your holiness,¡± he said at last, rising from his chair. ¡°It is dangerous. No strychnine without my knowledge, from now on. I''d also ask that you be careful with nightshade.¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± He pointed to her hands. ¡°And those blisters, those calluses? You train too hard.¡± ¡°They''ll go away,¡± she said, rubbing her hands together. They''d always disappear before she knew it, courtesy of her god. Horace wasn''t wrong, though ¨C ever since Bert had taken over as the master-at-arms of the temple, she had been spending more and more time in the armoury. Truth be told, Bert probably wasn''t as good as Odel when it came to duelling, and his fencing certainly wasn''t as elegant and gracious as the Vieran''s. But she felt that the mercenary knew much more about life and death, and everything that came between these two things. In any case, Bert''s teachings were an interesting addition to her duelling sword and spear skills, and without a doubt Astrael would have been quite pleased with that. He always valued odd tricks and clever lessons over the rest. Thinking of lessons, she threw Horace a glance. ¡°If it''s as dangerous as you say, why did you teach my brother about all... this?¡± She had never asked Astrael, but question had been there for a time. Horace gazed at the sky between the curtains of her window. He was wearing his dull brown tunic, since he kept refusing to wear the red robes of a priest, insisting he wasn''t a priest or anything remotely close to a holy man. ¡°Why did he teach you all this?¡± he eventually questioned back. ¡°...To protect me,¡± she answered without much thinking. Horace turned around and gave her a small smile. It was all it took to make her understand. There was no point to Astrael''s protectiveness if she corrupted her own mind and body with the tools he gave her. The old man went to the door and opened it. ¡°Let us take a stroll in the garden, yes? The gentle autumn sun should be enjoyed while it lasts.¡± They walked the small paths between the flowers and bushes and olive trees, the emerald leaves caressing her legs through her robes. The sunshine warmed up her crimson clothes, and she wondered if her family was enjoying it too. Father is probably out there in the fields, overseeing the harvest, she thought. Mother is probably helping out Horace''s wife... Rina saw no reason why Horace couldn''t bring his wife with him here in Callir, but the old man explained that the village needed a doctor. As for her brother? She had yet to receive another letter. She hoped he was sound and safe, in Akilne or wherever fate had brought him, and she hoped the sun was shining upon him, too. Rina did her best to ignore the bloodsguard watching her from afar, following her a few steps behind, standing by her door or by the stairs. Leon wasn''t here ¨C he was busy in his manor, busy speaking with his brother Timenon, speaking about the meaning of family values and betrayal. Busy stopping Phiramel''s schemes, nipping them in the bud. ¡°Old man,¡± she said softly, looking behind and waiting for Horace to catch up, ¡°why did you leave Callir?¡± He raised a thick black brow and chuckled. His hand brushed down against his face, scratching his cropped hair before passing a few fingers in his mighty dark beard. ¡°How many times does this make, your holiness? I told you, I left when Callir became a place for wrathful revolts and spilled blood.¡± ¡°Hmm. Not today, eh,¡± she muttered. Perhaps you''ll tell me one day. Faintly smiling, Rina faced away from him, and wandered toward the fountain. ¡°Tell me a story, why don''t you? Tell me of Euronel''s last known student.¡± ¡°Ah, the final pupil... The king''s most trusted adviser, is what we know him as. He was but a boy when Euronel was already at the dawn of his life, and still barely older than yourself when he became royal physician.¡± ¡°He must have been quite a bright student.¡± ¡°They all were, Euronel would choose them himself, regardless of age or birth ¨C his sole criteria was intellect.¡± Horace paused, his eyes wandering somewhere for a short second, perhaps in his memory. ¡°A tradition in which he believed strongly. Euronel''s own master, too, was a talented scholar, as were the many masters before, even though they aren''t nearly as famous now. Bright students in their youth, meant to become wise teachers in their old days, meant to teach the next generation of promising younglings.¡± Rina glanced over her shoulder, and Horace gave her a knowing smile. She was free to interpret this however she wanted, and the old man probably knew it too. She pulled her red robes as she sat on the ledge of the fountain, as not to wet them. ¡°What happened to him when the king died?¡± Horace shrugged. ¡°Who knows.¡± ¡°Why did he serve an insane, cruel king?¡± ¡°Why indeed? Perhaps he felt it was his duty ¨C perhaps he felt he could lessen the damage. Or perhaps he did not care.¡± Rina looked down, biting the insides of her mouth. ¡°Is it true that when Therenus and his soldiers barged into the king''s chambers, they found him ill, hazy and unable to move, much less flee?¡± ¡°A most interesting rumour,¡± someone said, and Horace glanced to the side. Rina followed his gaze and got to her feet. ¡°Sadly enough, all those who could confirm or deny it are deceased.¡± You saw to it, Rina thought, staring at Phiramel. It felt to her like the greying and wrinkled high-priest was getting older with each day passing, and he looked somewhat small, thin and slouching under his floating scarlet robes. A sight accentuated by the presence of a younger, taller and, she had to admit, rather handsome man by his side. ¡°Your holiness,¡± Phiramel greeted with a bow, before exchanging a nod with Horace. ¡°And who might that be, your excellency?¡± she asked, observing the stranger with him. He must have been in his late thirties or his early forties, wore his dark hair short, had a thin and elegant moustache above his lip and a patch of blackness on his chin. A long tunic with odd square-shaped decorations, fastened with a belt of yellow cloth, and the undeniable air of pride and nobility in his demeanour. ¡°Allow me to introduce Jehon of Paar.¡± Jehon casted his two glittering onyx eyes upon Rina before bowing. ¡°An honour, and a pleasure, your holiness.¡± Under the spiced Vieran melody, there was another foreign accent that made his low voice somewhat exotic. He grinned, showing teeth whiter than pearls. ¡°Forgive my rudeness, but your name would be... Rina, yes? A most exquisite name.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A charmer, Rina thought, and he knows it. Seeing as he was from the Paarese kingdom, she had to be especially careful around him, and it might prove useful to feign meekness. ¡°You''re very kind, my lord.¡± She glimpsed at Phiramel, and she could swear she saw a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Surely this one wasn''t a guest that should be offended... ¡°But you''re so far from home,¡± she carried on, displaying her best smile. ¡°What could possibly bring you here, I wonder?¡± ¡°Politics, my fair lady, and complicated ones at that. A wholly bothersome matter, but it shan''t stop me from appreciating the wonders of your city, fear not.¡± She made it so that her smiling eyes enhanced the smile on her pink lips, which she knew to be at least captivating, and ran her fingers through her silky raven hair, which she also knew to be mesmerising ¨C but deep down she found the man entirely condescending and displeasing. No one had ever called her fair lady or anything of the sort, and she had been grown used to the titles of young mistress and holiness. Being vexed for such a small slight came off as a surprise to her. Or perhaps it was because Jehon treated her as a mindless doll. ¡°...Well, well,¡± she finally said, bowing her head, ¡°do not mind me, your excellency, your lordship. I don''t wish to detain you, as you certainly have much to discuss.¡± She made one step forward, then stopped and glanced at the Paarese lord. ¡°Enjoy your stay, Jehon of Paar.¡± ¡°Certainly, your holiness,¡± she heard from behind as she walked away, Horace following her. Rina turned around a tall bush, waited and lend an ear in hopes of hearing bribes of their conversation. ¡°...It is done, then? Callir won''t follow Paar in this war unless we have certainty.¡± ¡°Even if some might prove reluctant, the decision was made by Gavnel himself. They don''t have much of a choice, and my king wouldn''t have agreed either without assurances.¡± ¡°That is good to know. My only concern is Akilne, I''ll still send a pigeon in the morrow to confirm...¡± The voices faded as they left the garden. Gavnel, she repeated in her mind. There was no mistake, she had heard correctly. The chosen of Viera... Was he involved in the conflict between Paar and Ocia? How, and for what purpose? And now Callir was involved too, for sure. She realised Horace was staring at her with an amused expression, stroking his dark beard. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Are you enjoying this, your holiness?¡± Rina tilted her head, confused, wondering for a second what he meant. ¡°No, why would I?¡± she replied, almost offended. ¡°This isn''t a game.¡± The old man walked past her, hands behind his back, chuckling softly. ¡°Oh, but it is, I assure you, and you think so too. I''ve seen plenty of people in your position and no matter how amusing or serious the game is to them, I can tell when someone is enjoying it... Just as I can tell when someone is being a hypocrite about it.¡± She''d slap him right now and right here, only it would give him reason. It''s neither amusing nor enjoyable. Phiramel, Jehon of Paar, Horace, even Astrael, perhaps they did see it as a game, yes. Hell, maybe it was indeed a game, a sinister and deadly one. But while they enjoyed it, she didn''t. I know I don''t. It''s my Duty. ¡°Should I let Phiramel drag the city-state in a pointless war that doesn''t concern us?¡± she asked all of the sudden, both to herself and to Horace. If this was such a funny game, then that old man surely had the answers, and Rina was more than alright with cutting corners and cheating if it meant victory. ¡°That depends, your holiness. What is it that you want?¡± What is mine, she thought, but wasn''t sure what is was. Authority? Freedom? Power? She did not answer, and let the old man continue. ¡°If you speak against him now, you''ll lose his trust, confuse the people and force the nobility''s hand ¨C they won''t appreciate that. Nobody will join you so soon.¡± The common people were indeed an issue, they were quite eager to be warring against the Vierans at the moment. She could always make the sibyl submit to her, and have the old woman spit whatever convenient prophecies she could come up with. That ought to put an end to this war nonsense. But could she really do that? Viriane was supposed to be a neutral party, yet Rina guessed that Phiramel had bought her already and with fear rather than coin, most likely. Nothing good could ever come from someone being pressured and threatened by both sides, so in the end Rina saw this option as unwise. She wouldn''t be able to rise above Phiramel if she used the same intimidating means as him, anyway. That left the high-born families ¨C unwilling to join her so soon, Horace said... ¡°You''re supposed to take care of that issue. Didn''t you tell me you''d speak with some old friends of yours in the nobility?¡± Rather, this is one of the reasons I brought you back... ¡°Yes, and I shall do it. In time. But for now, your holiness, I advise to stand back and watch. Let his excellency Phiramel wage his war. If he wins, both you and him will appear stronger in the eyes of the people, Callir will have found new allies, and afterwards you''ll have all the time you need to... clean the church.¡± ¡°And if we lose the war?¡± ¡°Then have the high-priest take the blame,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°The old houses will side with you once they see which way the wind blows. Whether it happens as a consequence of a lost war or of the man''s paranoia, is of no importance.¡± To me, perhaps. What about the defeated soldiers? Their families? Were they a necessary sacrifice? ¡°There are hard choices to be made, your holiness,¡± Horace carried on, and so she knew he could read her face like an open book. ¡°Tough decisions are what test one''s will and set the strong apart from the weak. Your brother understood that from the beginning. What do you think he''d do, if such a choice was his to make?¡± ¡°I know what he''d do,¡± she said sharply as she walked away, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She returned to her room, only to find sister Julia waiting for her next to the knights. News from Leon? Not that she could ask that question, she wasn''t supposed to know about their relationship. ¡°Your holiness,¡± Julia began, ¡°someone asked to see you.¡± Rina noticed the anxious look on the priestess, her eyes glancing away, her finger fidgeting with her long brown curls, and the faint flush of uneasiness on her cheeks. In the first place, it didn''t make sense for Julia to announce a visitor. Rina had perhaps dozens of people who would ask to see her each day, but that was at mass, and outside of mass they were seldom mentioned. ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°A... a man calling himself Demnir, your holiness.¡± For a second, Rina froze and her mind went blank. Only for a second, though ¨C Julia knew Astrael''s face, and if this Demnir here really was Rina''s brother, the priestess would look much, much more nervous than that... and would probably be reporting to Phiramel instead. ¡°Have you told anyone? Where is he now? What does he look like?¡± ¡°I came to you directly after I made him wait somewhere safe. A middle aged man, your holiness. He... he is Vieran, I think, and claims to have a letter for you, something he cannot let anyone else see.¡± A trap? An imposter? Or did Astrael send me a message at last? And there was another curious thing about this situation. ¡°Julia,¡± she said quietly, dragging her away from Horace and the bloodsguard. ¡°What do you mean, you made him wait somewhere safe? He is a foreigner, a Vieran, requesting to meet me in person ¨C didn''t you think he was an assassin?¡± ¡°I-¡± The priestess pinched her lips and her cheeks went from pink to scarlet. ¡°I swear, your holiness, I-¡± ¡°There is a reason you went to me directly, instead of warning Phiramel or anyone else. A reason you were willing to hear him out, to carry out his request. Tell me.¡± But Julia wouldn''t be answering anytime soon, Rina could guess. She couldn''t, for she didn''t want to. Her face hidden behind her hands, her almost teary eyes looking around for a solution, a way out... To Rina''s knowledge, there weren''t many things that could press a priestess of Xito. And there weren''t many imbeciles who''d dare to knowingly torment one of her priestesses. But Julia was a priestess with a weakness... ¡°Do you perhaps have a secret he knows about, Julia? I won''t ask what it is,¡± Rina whispered in her ear. I already know. The woman managed a nod. ¡°Did he threaten you, Julia? Did he threaten to expose your secret if you didn''t bring his request to me?¡± Another nod. ¡°Then we don''t want that. Shall we hear what he has to say?¡± A surprised Julia was eventually able to calm down. Rina went to wait in her room, Horace remained at her side, standing by the window and gazing silently at the city crawling with people and horses and carriages, at the horizon beyond the walls, and at the keep where kings once lived and bled. Before long, Julia came back, followed by a scrawny man with greying sideburns and an entirely nervous expression. What kind of blackmailer was Julia afraid of? she thought, amused. His skin was a shade darker than everyone else''s, like Odel''s used to be. Despite being Vieran, his face hadn''t been shaved for a while, either because of his long journey or because he felt it was safer to wear the beard in Callir. All in all, it wasn''t anything surprising for a lone Vieran to be scared in the middle of the Callirian temple. ¡°You claim to be Demnir?¡± Rina asked. The man glanced sideways, obviously unnerved by the terrifying glares the proud knights of the bloodsguard were giving him, each one of them clad in steel, hand wrapped around the hilt of their swords, the blades already half out of their scabbard. Julia''s murderous stare was the most frightening thing in the room, though. He''s not going to say anything about Leon, Rina wanted to tell her, to reassure her, but of course she couldn''t. ¡°No, that was a lie,¡± he said, the melody of the Vieran cities somewhat wasted by his tired, broken voice. ¡°My name is Vieric, a slave by birth, and Demnir is my master, and a merchant in Akilne. As per his instructions, I took his name and...¡± A glimpse of Julia''s face, and he bowed his head. ¡°I... bring you a letter from his hand, to be seen by your eyes only.¡± He slowly took the letter out, then looked around once more. ¡°Y-your holiness,¡± he hastily concluded. A knight received the letter, but in spite of his careful examination of the envelop, he didn''t look like he came to any sort of interesting conclusion. Horace sighed and took it from the knight''s hands, held it under the sunlight and looked through it, sniffed it, then shrugged. ¡°It appears to be safe, your holiness.¡± Rina broke the seal at last, and read the contents silently. She then glanced at Vieric, who had the expression of a man awaiting a death sentence. ¡°You''re dismissed,¡± she said to Julia and the knights. Before the slave could ask about his own fate, she addressed him. ¡°Vieric, my... your master gifts you to me. We''ll talk later, in the meantime sister Julia will find you a room for you to rest in.¡± She was now alone with Horace, once more. Her eyes went through the letter a second time, and that one particular line, she read again and again. ¡°You should convince Phiramel to help the Paarese in besieging Ocia, so that when Callir loses and he finds himself disgraced, you can get rid of him.¡± The Vierans'' victory seemed to be an established fact, in his mind. Brother, what are you up to? It was all in the letter, truly, but she didn''t get why he''d go as far as to travel to Ocia and involve himself in the siege. For money? Or something else? ¡°What does it say?¡± Horace inquired, perhaps finding her silence curious. Rina let out a loud breath, half a scoff and half a sigh. ¡°It appears Phiramel will finally have a taste of war...¡± The Merchants Law - Chapter 33 ¡°All my life I''ve heard about it. Magesmithing, Sazin''s blade, the First Sword... It is known through many names, like the many yet different and empty accounts of a long lost tale. Me? I believe it''s nothing more than an allegory. The chosen is the blade itself, the Sword. It is the embodiment of courage, dedication, and strength ¨C an incorporeal weapon, with the purpose of slaying one sort of demons, those that lurk in the human mind. -Alleged words of a previous hero¡± * * * Demnir The early evening sky had shades of orange and purple, and it coloured the many exotic plants in a dusky tint. Under a fig tree, lord Vierodel sat in the grass, playing a tune on his harp, the languid melody echoing in this vast courtyard turned into leisure gardens by a previous lord. ¡°Ah, my esteemed guest,¡± the young noble called out to Demnir once he noticed him. ¡°You came.¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± he replied with a bow. ¡°One does not refuse an invitation to dine with your lordship and the lady Atricia.¡± Rather, it was about time. I was growing bored in this palace. Vierodel got to his feet, had a servant put away his harp, and invited Demnir to walk with him toward the terrace. Jade earrings swayed with each of his steps. ¡°Forgive me, I am still unsure as to what we should call you. A lord? A sir?¡± The merchant chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Whatever titles I might have held in a past life, I left them behind.¡± He gave Vierodel a knowing smile, leaving its meaning to the Vieran''s imagination. ¡°Demnir will suffice, my lord, though you''re free to call me however you wish.¡± ¡°Then lord Demnir it is, for I feel the mundane title of merchant doesn''t do you justice. I''ve heard pleasant things about you since the other day.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. Captain Flavo has been most appreciative of my work.¡± Vierodel nodded. ¡°Indeed, but what a surprise... A glaring and silent man like him, I expected he''d give you quite a bit of trouble, at least.¡± And trouble he gave me. Captain Flavo had not bothered to hide his reticence and his displeasure, and was quite eager to criticise some of Demnir''s devices. But when it was time to argue about one particular engine, it only took a detailed mention of how gruesome the consequences would be for the attackers, for the meddlesome Flavo to turn into an assertive interlocutor. The craftsmen that were summoned to the palace, though, merely paled and kept silent, and deep down they were probably glad to be on this side of the walls. Vivid descriptions of melting flesh can have all manner of impact... ¡°What can I say? In the end, we simply came to an understanding,¡± Demnir explained nonchalantly. ¡°I do not blame him for his initial distrust, however. On the contrary, my nights would be troubled if I knew that the captain of the city-watch lacked a cautious and wary mind.¡± ¡°Well spoken!¡± They arrived at the terrace, made of polished slabs, and servants led them to their chairs in front of a table made from white wood, under a roof of foliage. It wasn''t cold yet, but brasiers had been spread around the table. A woman in her thirties was seated there already, sipping wine from a gilded cup between her painted lips, head resting languorously against her palm as strands of dark hair fell artfully on her shoulders and shone with a purple gleam. She watched her guests with eyes that appeared dreamy at first, but under these heavy eyelids, Demnir felt an attentive stare. ¡°Mother, this is my good friend, lord Demnir of Callir. My lord, this is lady Atricia of Ocia.¡± Atricia held out her hand, which the merchant eagerly kissed. ¡°A pleasure,¡± he said, conspicuously gazing at the sapphire she wore at her neck, and the cleavage of her pale pink dress held together with golden pins. She was certainly wearing it for this very purpose, and not indulging her would come off as pretentious or even suspicious. ¡°Likewise.¡± Her voice was full of mirth, and Demnir found the aromas of cinnamon, vanilla and roses in her perfume. There would be no need to pretend that her company was a delight for the senses ¨C even the soft skin of her hand tasted sweet. Her breath, however, had a the distinct scent of sleep-grass. ¡°But did I hear right, lord Vierodel? I suppose we''re good friends from now on.¡± ¡°It must be so. I wouldn''t introduce anything less than my good friends at my mother''s table, of course. Though it doesn''t necessarily mean I trust said friends.¡± Vierodel and Demnir both had a good laugh, while the lady only smiled before pouring herself more wine from a glass carafe. ¡°Shall we eat, then?¡± The servants brought plates and bowls and pots of roasted fish meat and beef ribs soaked in wine, mushrooms fried in butter, crimson shrimp and lobster, oysters served with white wine, and whatever that bright blue octopus was. Demnir only bothered himself with a cup of red wine for now, not touching his food as he eyed the Vierans beginning their diner. The red grapes, rich and fruited, must have come from one of the finest Daeli vineries ¨C partnership with the kingdom of Dael evidently came with many boons. Speaking of Daeli gifts, he wanted to ask about the little princess, and why she wasn''t dining with them, but he figured it would sound intrusive. ¡°Still,¡± he said, ¡°as I told you earlier, my lord, you''re much wise not to trust a foreigner like me. Cautiousness seems to be one of your virtues.¡± ¡°Wouldn''t you say the same of you?¡± lady Atricia inquired, bending forward as to better show a daring smile and an ever more daring sight of her chest. For sure, she was amongst the most beautiful women he had ever met, but he was well aware of the game she was playing. He played along and stole a glance. ¡°Is poisoning perhaps a common occurrence in Callir? We Vierans wouldn''t ruin the food in such a way, mind you.¡± Demnir laughed at the irony of her question, though it was lost on her. ¡°You''d be surprised... However, forgive me. I always eat lightly in the evening, else it keeps me from working during the night.¡± ¡°I''d expect nothing less from you,¡± Vierodel said. ¡°A bright mind such as yours cannot be cultivated through a life of leisure and idleness.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Oh, but I find enough leisure in smithing weapons and earning silver, worry not.¡± ¡°If you absolutely mustn''t eat, then perhaps we could bother you with some of our finest plants.¡± Atricia of Ocia snapped her fingers, and two slaves, one old woman, one young girl, each brought a small jar containing enough sleep-grass and poppy juice to sleep for an entire week. They smoked with pipes carved in bone, and Vierodel honoured them with an anecdote about how these bones once belonged to a lion he had himself hunted. A spear through the heart, or so the story went. Demnir did not take his word for it, more interested instead in the glances the younger slave was giving him. Whether she thought she was discreet, she really wasn''t, and it bothered him to the point where he had to throw her a cold stare. ¡°Leave us,¡± Vierodel ordered her. ¡°You are bothering our guest, don''t you see? My apologies, lord Demnir.¡± ¡°It''s quite alright,¡± he reassured, and this time it was his turn to steal a glance as she ran away. ¡°Am I perhaps a strange sight?¡± ¡°I''d wager she heard your Callirian accent, and as a Callirian slave herself, well...¡± Demnir nodded silently and puffed the opium. ¡°My lord, my lady,¡± he then said, staring down the carved pipe and taking a most arrogant tone to make himself sound like a bragging drunk, ¡°as a dealer of luxury goods, I really must introduce you to something worthy of your wealth and standing. There, I''ll make it my duty!¡± ¡°A jest, surely?¡± said Atricia of Ocia as she smiled pleasantly. ¡°I know no finer poppy than this one, and its juice is distilled by a master chemist we brought from the Summer Dominion.¡± ¡°Oh, I don''t doubt it, my sweet lady, but it isn''t poppy I''m talking about.¡± Atricia shifted in her seat and her son raised a brow. ¡°You know me as a merchant, but I back in Callir I was also something of an apothecary, and I know a little bit of herbalism and potion-making. As you guessed, both the church and the nobility there have a taste for deadly beverages, and circumstances brought my attention toward these matters. While I studied plants that could induce deep slumber or cause excitement, I came across interesting discoveries...¡± ¡°My, you are a man of many talents.¡± Demnir raised his cup as thanks for Atricia''s praise. ¡°With the right amount, some plants can stop even the worst panic attacks and put at ease any insomniac, while others can turn the laziest coward into the bravest beast, lusting for flesh or blood, craving for ways to spend his energy.¡± ¡°I should like to see one of my slaves under such a spell,¡± Vierodel said jokingly. ¡°And your soldiers, my lord,¡± Demnir said, a finger raised, ¡°should they become lukewarm or reluctant when comes the time to face the enemy.¡± Lord Vierodel squinted his eyes ever so slightly, and the merchant knew that he was already considering the possibility, or even fearing it. ¡°Surely you aim to ruin us by selling these precious potions, in addition to those siege engines of yours,¡± lady Atricia pointed out, filling what must have been her fifth or sixth cup of western red. ¡°I wouldn''t hope for less,¡± Demnir jested. ¡°Banter aside, if by making this horrible siege business an enjoyable experience for your ladyship, I can also become even richer... I''d be a fool to complain,¡± he concluded with a shrug. ¡°Speaking of siege...¡± While Vierodel''s tone and expression seemed serious, his mother''s face was hidden behind the cup of wine she was busy emptying. ¡°Fishermen have sighted unknown sails approaching from the west, and we received reports of troops crossing our borders. Mercenaries, mostly.¡± ¡°The time to face the enemy might come sooner than we thought,¡± Atricia said, her cheeks a bright red, and her voice too indifferent for such an issue. She appeared to be quite drunk, though she might have been acting like Demnir. ¡°Will your little toys be ready for use, Demnir of Callir?¡± ¡°I surmise they will, my lady. Your family has been kind enough to give my master craftsmen and my slaves a bigger workshop than they could have hoped for.¡± He offered to fill the lady''s cup once more, and she thanked him with a nod. ¡°Day and night, the coals have been lit, the steel hammered against the anvils, and the wood cut, shaped, mounted, nailed.¡± Nelvel had been overseeing the production and making sure that the craftsmen had no time for idle chatter. Because Nelvel''s company was somewhat useful, he had considered giving the job to Samaar, but the pirate was more likely to drink ale with the smiths, bring whores for the carpenters, and make the chemists brew more ale... Dessert was served, sweet pears and peaches, but Demnir ate none of it. They spoke of lighter subjects and amusing tales, and the sky was black and starry when the merchant excused himself. ¡°There is work to be done, and the gods would curse me if I delayed it because I enjoyed your company too much,¡± he had explained. He walked the silent corridors of the palace, looking through the arched windows and wandering on the balconies. The city down there was covered in the cold and silvery glow of the moon, but the faint yellow lights of torches and brasiers shone in the streets and alleys. The most illuminated parts of the city were the walls, and Demnir could see the occasional patrol in the distance, pairs of dark dots, when they would walk near one of these large brasiers. He observed the shadows of the towers, the gates, the fortifications that circled the many red-tiled houses before closing around the port, the foundations sinking in the murky waters ¨C all these things he had already studied time and time again during his short stay in Ocia. He knew where his catapults would be, where his ballistas would be aiming, where his trebuchets would be loaded. Both the ones he sold to the mercenaries, and those he sold to Ocia. It was obvious that neither lord Vierodel nor lady Atricia would trust him anytime soon. They were probably still wondering which side he really stood in, and what were his goals. The charming mother trying to seduce him was proof enough ¨C in all likelihood, she hoped to gain him to the Vieran cause with all manner of promises. And she was wise indeed, as for some men, glory and silver were never enough, as long as flesh and sex were missing. Demnir had almost forgotten, for a moment, that they looked more than fifteen years apart. He filled his lungs with the windy air, a welcome change from the spiced perfumes of the palace. He had drank too much and eaten too little. An insignificant price for tonight''s gains. His hand slipped inside the collar of his red doublet, took out a small bottle, and drank a few drops of its contents. The strychnine-based potion would keep him from falling asleep too quickly. He returned to his room to lay on his bed and read a few pages of Euronel''s Study of Western Military and Statecraft, a rare manuscript he had been lucky enough to find on a market in Akilne. If his hunch was right, as it always was, then he would need to learn all he could about the monarchies across the Middle Sea... where a handful of players were already involved in a game of absurdly high stakes. Two soft knocks at his door interrupted his reading. He went to open it and was met with a little girl in the plain clothing of slaves. The Callirian girl from earlier. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Err... master Vierodel sent me.¡± Her voice was shy, her hair tucked behind her ears had been dyed with red-gold henna, and she had the face of a mouse. ¡°So that you could pray to Viera and honour her tonight...¡± Demnir stood there, arm against the door, frowning. Did the fool perchance think I was interested in her solely because she was also from Callir? Else she was here to spy on him. The girl must have mistaken his frown for impatience, as she entered the room with her eyes fixed on the ground. He closed the door behind him, and kept studying her. She was a child indeed, younger than Rina. Eleven, twelve at most. The girl walked around the room and commented on the books, the painted vases, the fabric of the curtains, the view from his windows. Words empty of emotion save for nervousness, but Demnir noticed something else. ¡°Your accent is most peculiar,¡± he said, a faint smile creeping up on his face. ¡°Whoever taught you to speak with a Callirian accent did a fine job, but you won''t fool native ears.¡± A look of surprise on her mousy face confirmed his suspicions. Someone here probably thought a Callirian girl would be useful if Ocia was to welcome important guests from Callir... Not important enough to deserve a real, native one, though. ¡°Where were you born, child?¡± She glanced sideways and bit her lips. ¡°Here, m''lord.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± He walked toward her, slow and soft steps on the polished slabs. ¡°You must know the palace well enough to wander by yourself, yes?¡± She nodded. ¡°Perhaps you even know of its little secrets. You''d take hidden doors, dark tunnels and narrow stairs, like a little mouse, to sneak in the kitchens or to meet and please people in all manner of places. Or maybe to steal jewellery from them once they have honoured the goddess and fallen asleep?¡± She gave another nod, but she must not have liked where the conversation was going, because despite her revulsion and her displeasure the next thing she did was getting undressed. As if it would stop him. Demnir put back the pins that held her clothing on her shoulders. ¡°I''ve no interest in little girls like you, child.¡± ¡°...But master Vierodel-¡± ¡°-doesn''t care whether I use you or not. He would probably not care either if I threw you over the window for my own amusement, little mouse.¡± He paused and waited for her to finally look him in the eyes. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Lysme.¡± ¡°Have you ever dreamt of a different life, Lysme? A better one. A life where you wouldn''t have to warm the bed of plump lordlings and wealthy old men.¡± The red-haired girl gave a hesitant nod, as if she was ashamed that she had ever dreamt of something else. ¡°Why don''t I buy you, little mouse? That way you will no longer have to do these things, and you won''t have to worry about lord Vierodel''s expectations.¡± Lysme muttered something, perhaps her thanks, perhaps a prayer, perhaps a refusal. But Demnir did not really care and gave her his best smile. ¡°Of course, I am still a merchant. Nothing is ever free, and you will give me a precious thing of yours in return.¡± ¡°What... what do you want?¡± she muttered, clearly wary of this bargain. ¡°Your eyes and ears, Lysme, sneaky little mouse that you are.¡± The Merchants Law - Chapter 34 ¡°The Order of Pelirise was once amongst the finest troops in the entire kingdom of Dael, and consisted of brave knights devoted to the goddess. But time and war left their mark, the braves became fewer and fewer... and eventually, their treatment of captives and their methods were deemed too brutal and unholy even toward nomadic raiders and heretics, and so they were casted aside by king Arvus Agelien before they could tarnish the goddess'' image. Nowadays, the Order is still comprised of skilled warriors, but they''re little more than a bunch of violent fanatics and bandits playing templar, and they loathe the church and the royal family, supposedly for their softness and tameness. -Daeli chronicler¡± * * * Ezveril It was on a bleak morning that the siege began. The sun wasn''t high up in the sky, in fact it wasn''t there at all, hidden behind the white cloudy sky, and the thick fog had barely started to fade. The bells rang, their deep and low sound echoing throughout the palace, and loud footsteps and yelling reached Ezveril Agelien''s ears through the wooden door of her room. ¡°Your highness, it has begun,¡± said Hilne Neraldes, who was being armed by a squire. Clad in grey glittering plate with sharp steel at her waist, she looked like she was going to ride into battle and charge the enemy at the head of the heavy cavalry. ¡°Where will you be, Hilne?¡± Ezveril asked, her fingers playing frenetically with the buttons of her night silks. The morning was chilly, the flood icy on her bare feet, and she noticed her legs were shivering. The knight smiled, like a mother expecting a silly question from her child would. ¡°At your side, princess. The walls may fall and the gates may break, but even then I shan''t leave you.¡± ¡°Will they fall?¡± Ezveril asked impulsively, nearing her balcony, but forcing herself not to look as if it would bring bad luck. ¡°The walls...¡± Hilne shook her head. ¡°Of course not, princess. Lord Segheon has already sent a pigeon last week to call our fleet. They''ll arrive anytime, now.¡± She paused and thought for a second. ¡°I''ve also heard lady Atricia and lord Vierodel have bought new engines from this Callirian merchant, making the walls unapproachable.¡± Ezveril remembered that day in the audience hall. A fortnight ago, or perhaps more. She had forgotten, as she''d often attend willingly, especially since the lady-regent seldom bothered with such matters. Somehow, she found enjoyment in pretending to sit in Vierodel''s chair, where she''d dispense justice and answer the citizens'' worries. Doubtless said enjoyment would be ruined by lady Atricia''s attendance, if such an event ever came to be... And so she was there, the day this Demnir fellow came to speak in front of lord Vierodel. There was not much to say about the man ; he was an opportunist and a liar, much like everyone else. It was probably what earned him a room in the palace, and it was certainly the reason she had a bad feeling about him. ¡°Why are we entrusting the defence of the city to the likes of Flavo and Demnir?¡± Hilne thanked the squire once he was done with her armour, then came near Ezveril. She bore the three moons of her family crest on each shoulder plate, and carried her helm under one arm. The princess was glad the knight wasn''t wearing the helmet ¨C with only a thin slit for the eyes, it was just a great lump of decorated steel that made the dark-haired beauty look like a soulless monster. ¡°Have you talked to lord Vierodel about that?¡± ¡°How could I?¡± She scoffed. ¡°He wouldn''t listen to me or anyone, and even lord Segheon sides with him.¡± Hilne did not reply to that, probably agreeing with Ezveril''s point. A series of knocks at her door almost made her jump, and she couldn''t help glancing at her knight with, she was sure, a frightened expression. Hilne went to open the door, and it turned out to be one of Vierodel''s nameless lackeys. ¡°Master Vierodel asks if you''d like to break your fast in his company,¡± said the slave. ¡°He wants you to know that food shall be served on his lordship''s balconies, so your highness could watch the battle in his company. Afterwards, your highness could spend the day with him and enjoy the events from afar.¡± ¡°...He invites me to eat?¡± she repeated, both confused and offended. ¡°Yes, princess.¡± ¡°Now? To watch the siege?¡± ¡°I believe so.¡± ¡°What an extravagance,¡± she muttered. The slave had an apologetic expression, perhaps he also found the situation absurd, or perhaps he was feigning. Ezveril almost wanted to yell out her frustration on the slave, but she knew it wouldn''t amount to anything. She sent him away instead. ¡°You should go,¡± said Hilne all of the sudden, to Ezveril''s surprise. ¡°Lord Segheon would surely say the same, if you truly want to understand Vierodel of Ocia and get him on your side, you cannot afford to avoid him. Unless your highness feels unwell, in which case I''ll tell-¡± ¡°No, you''re right...¡± It might be worth it, she thought. At least it was better than staying isolated here, waiting anxiously for good or bad news, even with Hilne at her side. Ezveril called for her maidservants to help her dress. Glancing through her wardrobe, she chose a pale blue Vieran robe to match her eyes, not even bothering to look at her own clothes anymore. Daeli dresses were humbler and would often involve the use of a corset, while the gowns Atricia had provided were almost all sleeveless, either dangerously loose or awfully tight around the womanly parts, and more generally, too revealing for Ezveril''s tastes. What was the point of having clothing long enough to brush the ground and trip on it, for instance, if the two slits on each side went so high they almost exposed her buttocks? The princess had always suspected that Atricia, who wore such gowns with grace, was inflicting this ordeal on her as a way to humiliate her. But she''d rather suffer this small inconvenience if it pleased the lady-regent, lest the horrible woman acted even meaner and threatened once more to have her hair dyed purple by force. Her hair wasn''t the ashen blond of her father, but a light brown, or dark gold, she could never decide ¨C what she knew was that it was the same as her mother, and she''d sooner walk around naked than have it dyed to please the nastiest person she knew. ¡°One night, while you sleep,¡± the lady-regent would say from time to time, ¡°I''ll send slaves to get rid of this earthy mess you call hair. You won''t even notice until you wake up.¡± Ezveril never quite knew whether she was meaning it, or only jesting. But once, when Atricia was very drunk and in an awful mood, and when Vierodel and Hilne weren''t around, she made a different threat, a truly vicious one, saying she could order her manservants to do something else to her... A glimpse at herself in the mirror, and Ezveril rid her face of that angry frown. Then, they left for Vierodel''s apartments, and all around the palace, servants would cower or hurry, freemen would bellow orders, soldiers were running in the corridors. At the entrance of the lord''s chambers stood a few slaves, and some she wasn''t sure where she had seen before. The one that caught her attention the most, since he was staring, was a young man the same age as Vierodel, sixteen or seventeen perhaps, but with short brown hair and the most ordinary face she had ever seen. They exchanged stares, and he attempted a strange bow, clumsy and out of place ¨C it looked like traditional Daeli etiquette, but even in her country they rarely used it these days... She gave him a confused and pitying look before walking straight to the doors. In the large room decorated with carpets, sculptures and divans, Vierodel wasn''t alone, and for a moment she wanted to go back while nobody had noticed her. Alas, they quickly did. Hilne''s clanking armour was probably what made them so noticeable. ¡°...Your highness,¡± lord Segheon said as he turned around in his green robes, apparently surprised to see her. ¡°And lady Neraldes. Good morning. Have you slept well, princess?¡± Vierodel''s invitation must have been a whim, because nobody looked like they were expecting her ¨C lady Atricia dropped her charming smile, while the sly merchant Demnir seemed to have picked it up. ¡°Yes, thank you,¡± she eventually answered. Vierodel greeted her too, and so did his mother, albeit with the usual disdain. Atricia quickly escaped to the balcony, her slender hips swaying with each step, her gorgeous figure highlighted by the cream-coloured gown tightly held in place by a single chain around the waist. Then it was the Callirian''s turn. ¡°An honour to finally make your acquaintance, princess Ezveril,¡± he said in his odd accent, bowing, while she did a curtsy in return. Same as the first day he appeared, there was a confidence in his low-pitched voice that felt unsuited for his age and his circumstances. And these piercing eyes, shining like the silver coins he craved so much for... ¡°I wonder what took so long? We live in the same palace, and though I''ll admit it is quite vast, it''s as if no one here had the good idea to invite us both for supper!¡± Vierodel gave a forced laugh, and Saerge a nervous one. Ezveril did not recall doing anything in particular to avoid the merchant, though she certainly didn''t go out of her way to meet him, so she figured it must have been Atricia''s doing. For what reason, she knew not, but it was likely done out of malevolence or distrust. ¡°Could it be that you too were invited at his lordship''s table?¡± she asked the Callirian, hoping it wasn''t the case. It was bad enough to have lady Atricia around ¨C because of course, she would certainly be staying ¨C and she had no wish for the foreign greedy merchant to be there too.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Lord Vierodel dragged his feet toward them. ¡°He wasn''t, but now he is,¡± he said as he motioned for the balconies. ¡°What say you, lord Demnir? There''s space enough for all of us, if you wish to stay.¡± Ezveril did not miss that and almost rolled her eyes. Oh, he''s a lord now, is he? Demnir shook his head politely, his pleasant smile never fading. ¡°I''m afraid I cannot. I only came to speak about the siege, and now that we''ve done that,¡± he said, putting one hand on his sword hilt and extending the other arm, ¡°the walls await me.¡± ¡°Is that so.¡± She must have looked either irritated or worried, for the merchant raised a brow and widened his fake grin. His white teeth and the pale grey eyes contrasted with the slight tan of his skin and his raven hair. ¡°Fear not, princess,¡± he said as he glanced at Hilne behind her. ¡°I trust you''ll be quite safe with this noble knight. My lady, may I ask for your name?¡± ¡°...Hilne Neraldes,¡± the knight answered flatly after a short hesitation. Not many people dared to call Hilne a lady when she was in armour, and in truth, few dared to even speak with her in the first place... Fewer were those who managed to look her in the eye ¨C she was taller than the average Daeli man, and her icy blue eyes seemed to be judging anyone they encountered, except Ezveril. But he stared, and not once he glanced away. ¡°Ah, yes, descending from Neral of the Dark. Forgive my ignorance, I am ashamed that I would fail to recognise the three moons of the Neraldes house, famous even in Callir. A pleasure.¡± He then nodded to Saerge Segheon. ¡°I believe it is time, lord ambassador. Shall we?¡± ¡°Yes indeed. Lest good captain Flavo take advantage of our absence to launch an attack on the enemy camp...¡± With his fingers, lord Segheon combed what little hair he had left on his balding skull, a pointless endeavour in Ezveril''s opinion, and headed outside with Demnir. ¡°The man is spirited and eager, I''ll give him that, but perhaps he is a bit too eager...¡± The merchant''s laugh was muffled by the door that the slave from earlier closed behind them. At least, Ezveril wasn''t the only one who thought of Flavo as an unpleasant man... Even though the captain of the city-watch had never done anything conspicuously evil or vicious, it seemed everyone had the same opinion about him. A wolf in human clothing, waiting patiently for opportunities to satisfy his lust for blood and be rewarded for it... Men like that had their use in times of war, she had heard her father say, but Ezveril knew that Flavo had been around long before the siege, and would still be there long after. How does one keep such beasts under control when there are no enemies threatening the city? She knew the answer, of course. Enemies could always be found inside the walls. Her nose tickled and itched, and she noticed that the strong scent of Saerge''s perfume had not left along with its owner. Ezveril turned her attention toward the Vierans. Lady Atricia was seated on the balcony already, where a table, chairs and cushions had been brought under hanging drapes. ¡°Well then,¡± lord Vierodel said, delicately taking the princess by the arm, ¡°are you hungry? I''ll have the cooks serve anything you wish, in the meantime there are grapes, figs and olives to peck. Furs and brasiers, if you are cold. You too, lady Neraldes,¡± he added with a smile. ¡°I doubt you''ll need that armour, why not wear something more... comfortable?¡± ¡°Thank you, my lord, but I''ll be fine.¡± Then she stood against one of arched doors leading to the balcony, and fell in her usual silence. Royal knights need neither food nor sleep, Ezveril thought, repeating the absurd stupid words from the holy vow. We shall reject comfort and luxury, and make vigilance and honour ours. Foes of the crown shall be our only nourishment, and rest we shall find once our duty is complete. She hated that Hilne sometimes seemed to be following her vows to the letter. Outside was cold indeed, and so Ezveril wrapped herself in furs. She neared the balcony rail, and beyond the city walls, she saw it. Tents and horses and men and wagons and fires. Flags of yellow and sigils she had never seen floated in the wind. Large wooden monsters had begun to rise from between the tents, and people were crawling around those. The encampment stretched throughout the entire southern horizon, though she could see that the width of it wasn''t as great as its length. By spreading their tents as far as they could, the besiegers would give the defenders an intimidating sight. That was probably how it looked from the walls, in any case ¨C here in the tall palace, the impact was lessened. Atop the city walls, she could see more soldiers, and more of these wooden engines on the towers, and on the other side, crammed up near the port entrance, purple sails were facing yellow sails. ¡°What a sight, wouldn''t you agree? They took advantage of the fog to set camp during the night, but we already knew they were coming, so it''s somewhat fine.¡± Ezveril glanced at a grinning Vierodel, and frowned. ¡°You don''t even seem worried.¡± Was he feigning confidence? And lady Atricia did not look anxious either, for that matter. She was already pouring wine in a cup, but the princess had stopped being surprised long ago. The realisation had not struck her the first time she saw Atricia drinking till she almost passed out. Ezveril had not understood the second, third or fourth times either. But one evening, at one of these hours-long suppers during which the lady-regent would drink more than she''d eat, it made sense. Atricia of Ocia does not care, she thought back then. She would never attend the audience days, and her absence during the military councils had become more and more frequent. Atricia had no interest in ruling the city or in organising the defences, and would rather spend her time emptying amphoras, smoking opium, bedding slaves or picking on Ezveril. Since then, the princess had been wondering why Saerge Segheon had told her otherwise. Lady Atricia might enjoy power, but she doesn''t care for administration and ruling. Her son Vierodel was already doing this on her behalf, so what was the point of postponing his wedding by engaging him to Ezveril? In the end, it only comforted her in her doubts and worries. If Ezveril and her young age served no purpose to Atricia, it meant it did to her father ¨C Arthian Agelien never left anything to chance. As the crown prince''s last and youngest daughter, she was unlikely to inherit the throne, he could afford to send her away in a foreign city. A city which he knew would be attacked at some point... ¡°And you are brooding,¡± Vierodel said, interrupting her thoughts and caressing her cheek with his soft fingers. ¡°What is it, my princess? Something is worrying you.¡± The siege is worrying me, she replied in her mind, but she couldn''t really admit to her husband-to-be that his bride was a disposable bargain tool in the eyes of prince Arthian. For all she knew, it could have been the reason of Atricia''s disdain. Any parent would feel insulted to see their son wed the less important daughter of a large and prestigious family. ¡°If the enemy frightens you,¡± he continued, ¡°wait until you see lord Demnir''s weaponry. If I am to believe captain Flavo''s kind predictions, this will be ¨C and I''m quoting him ¨C a spectacle that elevates killing to art.¡± ¡°Yes, well, as it happens, I am worried about your new friend,¡± Ezveril improvised. ¡°Lord Demnir? Forgive me, but I surmise he''s entirely unworthy of your trust.¡± Lady Atricia let out a loud and mocking laugh that earned her an awkward glance from her son. ¡°Who said anything about trust?¡± she said, her tone feigning shock. ¡°Idiot girl.¡± ¡°What my mother meant to say, princess, is that you are indeed right,¡± Vierodel said, his purple lips curving in the same fake smile as ever. ¡°We''d be fools to trust an odd character like this one.¡± ¡°Then why are you letting him take part in the siege''s command?¡± The lord shrugged. ¡°Because he is useful, why else? Demnir of Callir might be bright and eloquent, but in the end he is only an exile. He has too many enemies and too few allies, and no weapon beside his flattery and his trade. He is desperate to regain his wealth and he''ll do anything to help us win the war if it allows him to fill his pockets with our silver.¡± ¡°Still, you let him wander the palace freely. Shouldn''t you at least have him watched?¡± Another snicker from Atricia. ¡°Didn''t he buy that girl you sent?¡± ¡°He did,¡± Vierodel said with a shrug. He then saw Ezveril''s confused and irritated stare and granted her the honour of an explanation. ¡°We''re not careless, princess. He is being watched ¨C everyone is, truly. Captain Flavo has no idea that some of his own men report his every word and action, and our dear lord ambassador Segheon is clearly not wary enough of the many whores he visits.¡± The lord gave her the kindest smile she had ever seen, and it must have taken hours and hours of practise to make his facial muscles move in such a delicate way. And so Ezveril knew that he had planted watchers amongst her own maidservants. It was no surprise, but knowing that lady Atricia was spying on her made her even more terrifying. Ezveril looked discreetly at Hilne, wondering if she had any idea about the spies'' identities. But the knight''s face was unreadable like always, a sentinel forever silent with ever-watching icy eyes and ever-listening ears. ¡°What about this slave you sold to the Callirian?¡± she asked, steering the conversation back on Demnir. ¡°I suppose he felt homesick and took a liking to her? Though she told me he did not bed her, oddly enough.¡± ¡°Perhaps he prefers men...¡± Lady Atricia almost sounded disappointed and vexed, for some reason, and her beautiful face was sulking. Atricia''s son shook his head vigorously. ¡°I doubt it, mother, he couldn''t look away from your beauty the other night. Regardless, any desire on earth can be satisfied, and so whatever food Demnir eats, we can provide it if we want.¡± Ezveril glanced away and stared at the ground very hard, still not accustomed to the Vieran nonchalance toward what would be seen as shameful or sinful tastes. Hilne had once told her a story from when she was still a young girl living in the Moonlit Castle. Two squires were caught together in the stables, and Hilne''s great-uncle, duke Darius Neraldes, had the boys whipped, then stripped naked and forced, held at sword point, to finish the act in the middle of the courtyard and in front of everyone. The whole household, from elderly to younglings and distant cousins, with all their retainers, the guards, the physician, the master-at-arms, the cooks, the kennel-master, the smith, the pigeon-master, the other squires, the maidservants, even the priest of Pelirise and the sleepweaver of Atharemine... They all watched in silence, until it was finally over and the duke kicked them out of his castle while threatening to hang them by the crotch if he ever saw them again, and to do the same to anyone he''d catch indulging in similar crimes. ¡°So,¡± Ezveril said, chasing those thoughts far away, ¡°what else did you learn from the girl?¡± ¡°Nothing yet,¡± Vierodel admitted with a hint of reluctance. ¡°Nothing?¡± She found the idea quite unnerving. If Vierodel wasn''t lying, then the slave was. If she wasn''t either, then it meant Demnir was far too good when it came to hiding things, which was the worst possibility. ¡°Give it time, princess. This slave is one sneaky rat, she''ll find out his secrets soon enough.¡± Ezveril frowned, wondering if slaves could really be trusted. She had never owned any slave as it was forbidden in Dael, and so she would never pretend to know how slaves were thinking, but if Demnir was a kinder master than Vierodel and Atricia ¨C and any master would seem kinder than Atricia, she was sure of it ¨C then why should the slave girl stay loyal to the Vierans? ¡°Then what?¡± the princess asked. ¡°When you find out his secrets, and if perchance he is not a traitor deserving of the rope, what will you do? Confront him? Wait and watch?¡± ¡°For now, the Callirian is a helpful ally against Paar,¡± said Atricia, holding her cup between her thumb and her middle finger, making the wine in it swirl and swirl. ¡°And as long as he stays helpful, he is our friend and our esteemed guest.¡± ¡°But after the siege is lifted, well...¡± Vierodel gazed at the walls, resting his elbow on the balcony rail. The wind blew hard suddenly, crashing against his purple robes, making his long curly hair flow and sway. ¡°That''s a different story, isn''t it?¡± The Merchants Law - Chapter 35 ¡°In Byrille, I came across a curious engine, collecting dust in the hall of a rich shipowner; a relic made by a great mind of old, laying there with the sole pitiful purpose of impressing guests and whatnot. Its wood was all cracked and swollen and the centuries had turned its steel to rust, but the weapon was still enormous, the size of a watchtower, and should have been capable of discharging large stones through great distances. Alas, it seems it was never completed, and was therefore never tried out, but the kind merchant prince gave me permission to study it and make drawings of it. If I had time, I could certainly finish it and perhaps improve it, but at this rate, I fear it might only be part of the legacy I''ll be leaving behind. -Private papers of Euronel¡± * * * Nelvel The stink of perfume and opium from the brothels seemed to emanate directly from the ambassador''s very existence, and Nelvel had to bear with it as he followed him and Demnir down the stairs of the palace and on the way to the walls. Even there, amongst the soldiers'' stench of sweat, old leather, and steel, it would not fade. They passed through rows of half-asleep guards, wandered between military tents at the base of the walls, climbed a few volleys of stairs. The clatter and yelling and stomping was loud, but not as loud as the damn bells, ringing and ringing. It got to him eventually, his heart was beating faster and faster now and he let out the occasional shivering breath. On the way up, Nelvel spotted some of the engines Demnir had built for Ocia''s defences. Monstrosities of wood and steel stretching toward the sky, hooked on the stone battlements, or just laying down there behind the walls, waiting to cast absurdly large stones and arrows toward the enemy camp. Beams and ropes and pulleys and levers turned into eerie works of art by a even more eerie mind. Atop one of the huge square towers that flanked the south gate, the closest to the enemy camp, the man known as captain Flavo greeted them. ¡°Lord Segheon, lord Demnir, well met. I''ve been awaiting orders.¡± ¡°Good day, captain,¡± Demnir said cheerfully as if they were the best of friends. Flavo''s eager nod supported such an idea, and it confused Nelvel. ¡°First, we must ask, where is this emissary you spoke of?¡± The captain adjusted the belt that held together both his sheathed longsword and his mail tunic, then glanced over his soldiers with those wolf eyes of his. Like the rest of them, he had spots of fresh beard on his jaw, and probably had no time to shave this morning. ¡°Made him wait, mostly untouched. Come, milords, I''ll show you to his room... Unless his lordship Vierodel has other plans for him?¡± ¡°Ah, well...¡± Saerge Segheon rubbed his hairless chin. ¡°The lord and the lady have been very clear, we shan''t negotiate with the besiegers, so...¡± Something wicked sparked in the captain''s already mean eyes. ¡°In that case, may I suggest that we send him back to the Paarese camp by trying out our new catapults?¡± Demnir chocked on a snicker, but Nelvel wasn''t sure what it was he found amusing. ¡°Oh, dear captain, how eager can a man get, I wonder? That won''t be necessary, of course.¡± Flavo grunted and nodded. ¡°No, lord Vierodel also hopes to waste as much time as possible. We''ll hold the emissary here for as long as we can, then send him out there to make it look like we''re open to negotiations.¡± ¡°If we can delay their assault until the Daeli fleet comes, perhaps there will not even be a need for bloodshed. The Paarese, too, should want to take the city with as little death as possible, that is if they intend to rule it peacefully afterwards.¡± Ambassador Segheon then glanced at Flavo, and must have read something on the captain''s face. ¡°But... perhaps it is all a ploy, perhaps they hope to secretly mount an attack while we are busy thinking up terms and deals. We cannot be certain, so we must stay vigilant and ready to strike.¡± ¡°Yes, of course.¡± ¡°I''ll be speaking with the emissary now,¡± Saerge decided. ¡°I can spare a pair of soldiers to accompany you, if you wish,¡± captain Flavo replied as he motioned for two brutish looking guards to approach. Nelvel did not think the soft-spoken, perfumed, well-mannered Saerge was the sort of man who''d bring a hammer, pincers, and hot knives to a conversation, especially with a diplomatic envoy, but apparently Flavo did, as hinted by his satisfied smirk. ¡°Who knows, the sight of my subordinates could help him blurt out useful information.¡± Lord Segheon gave a dry smile. ¡°It could frighten him as well, and make him too wary. No, let me work my magic, captain; it is called eloquence, and it has served me well for as long as I can remember.¡± Flavo did not answer and bowed deeply as Saerge departed for the emissary''s cell, disappearing in a corridor of brown bricks. Demnir and the captain then walked along the walls, checking on soldiers, hearing reports, readying the weaponry and staring in the distance to see if the enemy was preparing an attack; but they had raised a wooden wall in front of their camp, making it impossible for the watchers in Ocia''s towers to see anything aside from the smoke of the fires, the flags of the tents and the top of the siege engines. And so the wait began. The morning passed slowly, and they''d mostly stay around the brasiers to warm their hands. When the sun shone brightly at its peak in the sky, soldiers began to distribute fresh bread and one cup of boiled wine for each and everyone. A bunch of hot headed youngsters ¨C new recruits, Nelvel guessed ¨C wanted to lead an attack on the enemy camp. They kept bragging and insisting until a veteran slapped one''s face with his steel gauntlet, knocking a couple of his teeth out. More like a punch, maybe. That ought to bring silence back, Nelvel thought nonetheless, grateful. His ears had been ringing like the bells in the morning, and although those were silent now, with the cackling of the lads, his head had started to ache again. The afternoon was warmer, thanks to the sun. Demnir would go off on his own every now and then, to wander in the towers or have a chat with the lieutenants. Still, nothing happened until the evening, when it got cold again, when the sun disappeared beyond the western horizon, and when thick clouds masked the moon and the stars, and their light. For a moment, everyone feared the fog from the morning would return, but Nelvel knew it wasn''t cold enough. Soon enough, a lone torch approached in the dark, casting its light against the white flag of truce; a rider, who, in spite of the two dozen crossbows aimed in his direction, enquired with an authoritarian voice about the negotiator they had sent early in the morning. Nelvel overheard Flavo discussing the idea of capturing or killing the rider, as he seemed to be a high-ranked officer, with his fancy helmet, his decorated yellow surcoat, his whole being hinting at his noble birth ¨C handsome face, arrogant manners. A Paarese commander, maybe. In the past, when he was travelling through the western monarchies, Nelvel had heard about noblemen without inheritance joining or even creating mercenary companies instead of fighting under the banners of greater lords. It wasn''t surprising, some were always more interested in the thrill of riches or pillaging, instead of honour or a lady''s favour. Demnir dissuaded the captain from recklessly executing the man, which would only hasten the start of the battle, and instead suggested that they make him wait comfortably down here in the muddy sand, with the chilly evening breeze and twenty crossbows pointed at him from atop the gates, while they went to fetch lord Segheon. Then they made the rider wait some more by asking for lord Vierodel''s orders, and even though Nelvel was never near those conversations, he knew they''d send back the emissary with tens and tens of empty and meaningless terms, and as many other ways to waste the besiegers'' time. ¡°I gather we''ll have an answer by the morrow,¡± lord Vierodel said when it was done, watching the dark horizon, where the light of the fires shone in the shadows, above the wooden walls of the enemy camp. Lord Segheon left them, to go home perhaps, or to spend his coin in a brothel, and the rest of them began to walk from tower to tower, greeting soldiers and hearing more reports. Nelvel was surprised the noble had actually bothered to come here, on the walls. It was as if he was all dressed for battle ¨C he wore gilded plate and chainmail over a purple tunic, and his golden helmet also had feathers with Ocia''s colours. His longsword hung at his waist, rubies and emeralds embedded in the metalwork. A prettier blade than Demnir''s, though Nelvel guessed Vierodel had never used his against a man. And if he has, it must have been a slave, he thought bitterly. ¡°Anyhow,¡± Demnir said at last when they stopped their tour, his back laying against the battlements, facing the noble with that smile of his. His raven hair was almost absorbed by the darkness, and only his pale grey eyes glimmered as they reflected the flickering light of the brasiers. ¡°Very kind of you to show yourself amongst the men, my lord.¡± Vierodel shrugged. ¡°If it helps, I''ll come as often as I must.¡± ¡°Men fight better with high morale, and seeing the lord on the walls does help,¡± said captain Flavo, but his voice was so indifferent, he did not sound like he had a slightest bit of that high morale he mentioned. No doubt he''ll be more joyous when comes the time to swing swords and shoot arrows.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Perhaps the lady Atricia would grant the men the honour of her grace, next time?¡± Vierodel glanced at Demnir and frowned, perhaps displeased by the merchant''s suggestion. ¡°No offence, my lord; but you cannot visit every soldier by yourself. Your mother would not mind sharing the burden, I am sure. After all, the men would gladly fight to the death, if it meant defending the honour of the most beautiful woman in the city.¡± ¡°Well, of course,¡± Vierodel said, not showing much interest, ¡°we''ve thought about it.¡± The lord went to speak with some guards, therefore ending the conversation, and Demnir sketched a bow, as if it was enough for him to have his suggestion considered. Nelvel wondered how honest said suggestion truly was. He would not go as far as suspecting that Demnir was plotting the lady''s demise, but who could say for sure what thoughts crossed the merchant''s mind? As lord Vierodel was about to retire to his palace, a commotion in the western parts of the walls caught Nelvel''s attention. Similarly, Demnir and Flavo both stared silently in the same direction. The racket got louder and louder as it spread toward them, until screams and orders became clearly understandable. ¡°To arms! To arms!¡± the bellowing officer riding atop the wall would scream, echoed by the other rider down there, slaloming between tents and catapults. ¡°The west gates are under attack! To arms!¡± ¡°It appears good lord Segheon''s terms are not to the Paarese''s liking,¡± said Vierodel from behind. ¡°Or perhaps this moonless night inspired them to paint my city in red.¡± He was flanked by half a dozen guards now, but he still had his arrogant smirk. As Nelvel began to understand that this time, the battle would really take place, he wondered how the lord managed not to look nervous. He cannot afford to show fear or weakness, he then realised. In truth, Vierodel was probably as anxious as the next guard. Demnir too, had stopped smiling ¨C but in the dark, the weak lights of the brasiers revealed no fear on his youthful face. After hearing the reports, the merchant exchanged words with Vierodel and captain Flavo, who then passed on some orders to the men. Nelvel gazed westward, trying to see something, anything. But there was only the fire of the brasiers, and sometimes the light reflected on the breast plates and helms, the glittering of the swords, the small flames of torches and arrows wrapped with oiled cloth. Demnir motioned for the slave to come with him in the opposite direction, toward the port. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Nelvel muttered, glancing back to see Flavo, Vierodel, and a bunch of guards following. ¡°Is this just a way for them to pressure us?¡± ¡°The real attack won''t be at the west gate,¡± Demnir said, his voice distant, his eyes staring at the black water, calm and lost in thought. ¡°It seems they''re not going to wait after all.¡± ¡°Why would they?¡± Vierodel said. ¡°The fog, and now the clouds blocking the moonlight, it is all very convenient for them. One would almost think the gods are doing their bidding.¡± ¡°Oh, my lord,¡± the merchant replied softly, a strange smile flashing for half a second. ¡°If Irixil or Atharemine were involved, I''d know, I assure you... Trust me, the clouds are of no concern to us, and while the Paarese may want to use the darkness to approach the walls, they won''t succeed.¡± Nelvel meant to ask how Demnir knew all that, but he felt he wouldn''t get much of an answer right now. Might as well wait and see whether we live or die. He noticed that the bells were back ¨C but now they did not sound as loud as before. The racket spreading from the west was much louder. They arrived at a watchtower standing tall in the middle of the sea ¨C the port was almost invisible in the darkness, with only the faint fires in the distance, proof that the city was awake, and it looked as if the wall was floating on the water. The torchlights shone against the waves, yellow reflections coming and going with a more or less regular rhythm, and looking over the battlements Nelvel glimpsed at some strange mechanisms, pipes of steel and great wheels and large containers. He noticed the torches were in fact stuck right under those curious pipes. They climbed to the top of the square tower, and eventually Demnir turned around with an arm spread toward the sea. ¡°Captain Flavo has already been introduced to this engine,¡± he began, ¡°but allow me to demonstrate its effectiveness, my lord. We only need to wait for our guests, and we shall begin.¡± The thumping of the huge ballistas was already echoing from afar; the crash of the stones, the clanking and crunching and screaming. By the sound of it, the enemy had brought out their siege weaponry too. Or rather, Demnir''s weaponry. Vierodel seemed to think so too, because after glancing repeatedly in the same direction, he addressed the merchant, a hint of worry in his voice at last, a slight frown on his pretty face under his gilded helmet. ¡°What makes you think it''s a decoy attack? They''re using those monstrosities of yours, Demnir. If my walls crumble because you''re not there to take care of the mess...¡± Neither Nelvel nor the merchant failed to notice that Vierodel had dropped all manner of politeness. But Demnir simply smiled and, raising his finger against his lips, gestured for silence. Vierodel didn''t have the time to be angered by the rude gesture, as he seemed to have noticed too. Ignoring the chaos from the west gate, the yelling, the sounds of war, there was an eerie silence. Under captain Flavo''s whispered orders, the guards of the watchtower were wordlessly arming their bows, hiding behind the battlements, or readying these strange steel wheels. Nelvel had a vague recollection of seeing those drawn amidst Demnir''s many diagrams, but that was all. ¡°They''re using some of my creations, my lord,¡± Demnir said quietly. ¡°They probably never intended to take the walls with a frontal attack, because they have another, better way to get inside the city. You have yet to see it.¡± They all kept silent, and they waited. They waited, until they were accustomed to the echoes of war, until they could hear the sea. There, Nelvel noticed the faint waves, the slight creaking of wood, the occasional cough or rattle. It''s not coming from the walls, he realised with horror. ¡°Ships?¡± Vierodel whispered, but he looked like he knew the answer was different. Ships would do no good here, the walls were too high, the entrance of the port was still far from here, and even so, it was guarded with a bunch of Vieran galleys and more ballistas. But in the darkness, the shapes began to appear. All around the walls, as far as the eye could see through the night, they appeared, gliding almost silently on the black water of the strait. They looked like ships, but Nelvel immediately knew they were something else. These boats were larger and flatter, and on their deck stood a mechanism of ropes and platforms. For a short second, a single ray of moonlight passed between the gap of the clouds, and steel flashed and sparkled ¨C atop the wooden platforms, rows of pikemen and bowmen waited. ¡°Floating siege towers,¡± Demnir said, his tone somewhat proud, his eyes shining with a kind light, eyes a sculptor would have when gazing with satisfaction at his own art. Then his expression darkened, and he gave Flavo a glance. The man uttered some order, not caring for the noise he made any longer, and the guards began to turn the great wheels with pumps. The soldiers on the closest floating platform seemed to have realised something, and whispered amongst themselves. Nelvel could almost see their faces; some looked old, some looked as mean as Flavo. Some looked as young as Nelvel himself, younger perhaps. Ordinary faces half hidden under iron caps or hoods of chainmail, nervous frowning faces, confident smiling faces. One face that seemed to ask, what am I doing here? ¡°The Paarese paid quite a sum for these,¡± Demnir said with a sigh. ¡°I figured they would use them at night, and during a diversion, since they''re easy to spot otherwise. Great for surprise attacks on coastal cities, given the right conditions. They burn quite well, unfortunately. All this wood...¡± And the sea was set ablaze. The heat reached Nelvel, a sudden wave of hot air, but it was the light that struck him the most. The blackness of the cloudy night and the dark waters had given way to bright yellow and orange flames, a fire that grew and grew as the steel pipes Demnir had placed everywhere on the walls gushed it out like a liquid of sorts. Vierodel watched with an expression of stupor, his arm covering his eyes against the blinding light, while Demnir stood there, rubbing his chin, a stare of ice against the red hell that burst out against the enemy. Before long, the screams of the burning men covered the sound of the battle taking place at the west gate. Screeching filled with agony, so atrocious it gave Nelvel cold sweat and goosebumps despite the heat. In the corner of his eye, he glimpsed at the gleeful smirk on captain Flavo''s face, a smile that softened his usually hard and impassible features. ¡°It''s something ancient warriors from a forgotten era used for naval battle,¡± Demnir explained calmly, wiping the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. ¡°The old recipe, a much more powerful version of this one here, was apparently lost with time, and I''m afraid I couldn''t manage to find it. This concoction here was the best thing my chemists and myself could come up with despite our restless efforts.¡± ¡°...I think it''s potent enough,¡± said Vierodel after a short hesitation. His voice was almost inaudible because of the screams and the crashing of the wooden structures falling into the sea, and he couldn''t entirely manage to get his composure back. ¡°I am glad you like it, my lord," the merchant replied without joy or grief. Flavo had his cruel grin and he wasn''t fooling anyone, but there was something undoubtedly disturbing in the way Demnir stood there, indifferent in the face of the screeching madness, the raging fire, the sinister song of a thousand painful deaths. Whether or not the Callirian noticed Vierodel and Nelvel''s horrified looks, he kept on with the same serenity. ¡°The concoction is kept in a sealed container, and heated from underneath by a brasier, which is in turn kept alit by bellows. A pump pushes air inside the container, and on the other side a valve is opened to let the concoction out. It is emitted through a nozzle, and a fire would be waiting right there to ignite the product. Of course, as I said, I am not the original inventor of this weapon, but I suppose I can take the credit for the new concoction instead. It is nowhere near the level of the old recipe, which was so dangerous it could burn on water and through hides coated with vinegar, but I reckon it works well nonetheless ¨C especially against ships, or in this case, my poor and beloved floating towers.¡± Flavo muttered something, words of lunacy lost in the chaos, his mean eyes staring at the melting bones, the sizzling flesh, the charred wood. But there was a brutal honesty to the captain''s reaction, and compared to Demnir''s collectedness, his bloodthirsty smile was almost reassuring. ¡°Be at ease, my lord,¡± the merchant added. ¡°The city won''t fall, and even if it does, it won''t be tonight, and it won''t be here. Captain Flavo can handle the rest, best we get back to the west gate in the meantime. I don''t trust the common soldier with my other inventions, even less so when they also have to defend against them.¡± The danger of the enemy had vanished, but deep down, Nelvel knew that another danger had appeared; or rather, it was merely revealed today. It walked the walls alongside the lord of the city, it dressed in the crimson of Xito, and its silver eyes shone with the dull light of apathy. Tonight was the enemy, the slave thought. But if tomorrow it''s Ocia he has to burn, he''ll do it without hesitation. Hiatus Hey guys. I''m taking a break. I''ve been quite annoyed with this story for a while now, there are way too many things I wish I could rewrite, delete, or add, but I guess that''s the issue with posting chapters as I write them. And I don''t really feel like working on this these days, I barely wrote a single chapter in three weeks, while I could write one in two or three days before. A month ago I started a story in my native tongue, which I aim to publish; it''s going well, it''s much more comfortable and swift, and when I compare this to my english writing, well, it''s frustrating to say the least... I''d rather not lie to you and make you wait weeks or months between chapters. I''m saying hiatus, but maybe I should say ''dropped'' instead. I''m not sure I''ll be continuing this novel here, to be honest. Right now I''d say I wouldn''t, but in a month or two I could feel like going back to it. Or maybe not, we''ll see. So, sorry guys, thank you all for reading and for your support. I really enjoyed reading your comments and your theories, I was looking forward to surprise some of you or to confirm your thoughts, but I''d rather stop here before this novel becomes a chore. I hope you''re not too disappointed. Edit : For those who asked, here''s a very short summary of the rest of the story and the ending. There''s only the main plotline here, and I didn''t write down much about the secondary characters. If I had to guess, I''d say we were almost halfway through. Callir was the first arc, Ocia was the second one, and there were two more after that. Spoiler: Spoiler The siege of Ocia drags on, and the defenders realise that Gavnel (Viera''s chosen) has coerced the other city-states into backing the Paarese, and sent ships to intercept the Daeli fleet that was supposed to rescue Ocia. The Callirian army also joins the besiegers. Demnir takes advantage of the extended siege to sell his products at high prices, and he turns himself into a powerful advisor at the side of an increasingly paranoiac and anxious Vierodel. In the end, the defenses are broken, the city is sacked, and Demnir escapes with Ezveril, and plans to use her as a ransom to get himself a reputation of saviour in Dael, as well as power and money. Vierodel and Atricia are left for dead, the Daeli manage to reconquer the city and their rule over it stays weak and fragile. Rina uses the defeat of the Callirian army as a way to get rid of Phiramel, she poisons him and puts her own minions in charge of the church.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. In Dael, a civil war breaks out after the king''s death; prince Arthian faces his own brother and his supporters who criticise Arthian''s decisions and his failure in Ocia. Demnir takes Arthian''s side as a means to climb his way up, and they wage war against some of the Daeli nobility, backed by Paar and some Vierans. While Arthian arranges negociations with the foreign countries backing his brother, Demnir is tasked to defeat the rebel lords so that Arthian may have a peaceful land once the negociations have worked out. The heroes get involved, and Demnir uses his strategical genius, his wealth and his connections to take down the rebels. He therefore succeeds in crowning Arthian as king. Demnir then helps the new king fulfilling his dreams of conquest and he is soon seen as a dangerous prince merchant. At this point he becomes more and more obsessed with power and money, and he takes on the role of the big bad in the eyes of the more ''moral'' characters. It''s implied he''s the chosen of one of the grey gods, who feasted on his resentment towards his original gods and eventually brought him back. Some of the seers and heroes are convinced he''s the threat they were meant to be fighting, and they try to assassinate him. Rina betrays them as she tries to save her brother. In the epilogue, Demnir''s fate is left uncertain (it was meant to be ambiguous), Rina is seen on the run, known as a traitor and a heretic, and the Daeli royalty has to deal with a crumbling empire.