“The Red Guard serves me,” Magister Tsetsurg protested. “I am not relinquishing them for any foreign interests. I don't care what this paper says.”

“Perhaps your left eye is showing you only one side of the agreement,” Singis replied.

The Fatted Poult was normally full during the noon hour of a work day, but on this day the restaurant was closed down to host a meeting between Magister Tsetsurg of Isimil and Lord Edmon of Kienne. Between them was the Chief Inspector of the Smote, Singis. The tables were rearranged into a large circle so the three could look at each other while affording some distance. Tsetsurg had a thin and long dark gold coat with white ruffles on his neck and sleeves, and a black eyepatch over his newly lost eye. He had a dozen Red Guard beside him with several dignitaries. Edmon was in a new blue coat he had picked up at the market that morning upon his arrival to Banningtown. Behind him was Arthero, the Kiennese Seordmeister dressed in a plain dark leather jacket with his longsword by his side. Singis had a pale blue coat and a yellow scarf around her neck. She sat alone on her side of the room.

“And tell me, Inspector, what does this agreement say?” Tsetsurg asked, leaning forward as if to mock her.

“Your signature is here on the right, setting me up as Marshal of the Commission,” she said. “This includes commanding all the guards for the sake of a unified Yghr defense. One thing leads to another. This means Red, Black and White Guards of the three major burghals and all the townships in between.”

"Isimil is in an unstable state, have you not noticed?" Tsetsurg pointed to his eyepatch. "Servants in my city are dead, murderers are on the loose, and you haven't found them. Get your guards from Gamesh and Amshedpur. Isimil cannot afford losing its arms."

"Magister, the trade route is jeopardized," Edmon rose and walked over to Singis, leaning on his cane.“Should Banningtown shut its gates, Isimil’s economy is the first to collapse. All we are asking is for the southern edge of the Smote to be fortified. Let us protect all of our interests.”

"And what is Kienne's interest in all of this?" Tsetsurg scoffed. "You aim to annex Aredun, don't you? And who's next? The floodlands to your south? Or the parchlands to your north?"

"You may one day find yourself with new neighbors, Magister," Edmon said, folding the commission contract away. "During your lifetime. Which neighbor you have will depend on your committment in preserving your way of life in the Smote. I thank you for leaving your seat in Isimil to speak with me in Banningtown. You speak of the other cities. The Black Guard of Gamesh and the White Guard of Amshedpur have both indicated they are ready to commit.”

“Gamesh and Amshedpur have indicated they are ready,” Tsetsurg repeated. “That means they haven’t. I understand what the commission says. But this is not a burghal wide problem. This is an Aredunian problem.”

Edmon put the contract inside his coat pocket. “If you do not want the Inspector to marshal your forces, you know the alternative. We’ll lift Yghr amnesty, and both Kienne and Aredun will enter the Smote. This was the price of your business. The kingdom of Kienne awaits your answer.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Magister Tsetsurg said, rising. He turned and walked out of the Fatted Poult, his soldiers and dignitaries following.

Batisse poked his head into the room and brought a tray of black cups of steaming tea, setting one cup in front of Singis. “I don't think he likes you.”

“Most slavers don't,” she replied, wrapping her fingers around the cup. “You must be tired, Edmon. You couldn’t have possibly gotten much rest, since your arrival this morning.”

“Wouldn’t have wanted to make the Magister wait too long,” Edmon said. He turned to Batisse. “I’m glad my message had come to you, to have Tsetsurg to come to Banningtown.”

“Message?” Batisse had a puzzled look as he put a cup in front of Edmon. “I received no such message.”

“Surely, the letter,” Edmon said. “The letter was given to your driver. It must have…why else would Tsetsurg know to meet me here?”

“Remy’s left for the west and I haven’t heard from him since,” Batisse said. He offered a cup to Arthero but he held his hand up to decline the drink. Batisse set it back on his tray and took a seat next to Singis. “As for Tsetsurg, he’s made a bit of vacation for himself for the three days in Banningtown. His men practically live in the gambling halls and whorehouses. You know what has been in high demand? Barbarian whores. These dignitaries, wealthy merchants, whatever they may be…they come to Banningtown and they miss their slave mistresses. But not the Magister. No, he reads and he prays. Drinks fig tea every morning, that’s all he does. For three days, he does this. I had no information on why he was here, except I knew that on the day he arrived, you were three days away from arriving to Banningtown. And then this morning you asked for a meeting with him, and I oblige. Is there more? What knowledge eludes me?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“It eludes me as well,” Edmon said. “Seems like I have lost a letter.”

“Lost a letter?” Batisse asked. He set his cup down.

“Yet the intentions of the letter were met,” Edmon looked at the ceiling in thought. Either luck brought Tsetsurg here, or someone has read the letter and is moving the pieces of the game board to match our moves. What is more likely, Arthero?”

“There is no luck, just consequences,” Arthero said. “Consequences from the last action, consequences for the next.”

“Ah, consequences! What is that, is it where one thing leads to another? Like footsteps?” He laughed as he looked at his cane.

“I'm sorry I couldn't attend your council, Edmon,” Singis said. “I hear they sent Torotombar.”

“They sent a slaver in your place!” Edmon laughed again, slamming his hand on the table. “A slaver! I did my best to mask the irony.”

“Mind your tone here,” Batisse warned.

Edmon waved his hands, then looked to the floor with a sigh. “Inspector Singis, you've always been a great friend and ally. Gamesh and Amshedpur would not have committed men if not for you."

“Intending to commit is not the same as committing, the Magister was right,” Singis said. “We’ll see if they’ll honor contracts. These are business deals to all of them. There is no sense of honor or duty to country, but at least they understand contracts. The commission you helped author made sure of that."

"Is slavery in the Smote as rampant as I've heard?" Edmon asked.

"It is, and it's gotten worse since the commission was formed," Singis replied. "Though we achieved our objective by creating a single army that could rally to a uniform cause, the concessions were too great."

“When Kienne and Aredun agreed to the Yghr terms to never enter the Smote, the world became blind to the Magisters' actions," Batisse added. "The economy began to shift and the cities now thrive on slave trade. Though the Smote may be as dry as the bones in its dunes, rivers of kidnapped children from the west run through it."

"Caution is needed with Magister Tsetsurg," Singis said. "He is a very well connected man. I suspect he is supported by a very old fraternity, called the Brotherhood of Silver and Glass."

"The Brotherhood, Singis," Batisse protested. "Not again."

"I've heard a couple whispers about the Brotherhood," Edmon said. "I've also heard it was fabricated to give the old world nobles a sense of mystery and power. No one has ever offered evidence of it existing."

"Perhaps they do not, or perhaps they prevent others of knowing of their existence," Singis said. "It seems that there is always someone a couple steps ahead of me. There is an old Yghr crone outside of Isimil. A soothsayer, they call her. I would like for you to come with me to Isimil. I would like for us to speak to her."

"I believe we both know why I cannot go to Isimil."

"You will travel in secret," Singis said. "You will be one of my Yghr companions. No one questions me on my companions. You should all come, you, your knight, and your SanKai friend. Where is your SanKai friend?"

"Kidu?" Edmon asked. "He has been looking at the world with wide eyes since leaving the Scales. I'm sure he's out exploring Banningtown now."

They emptied the Fatted Poult and walked onto the busy street, the high sun beating down on them.

"Did Kidu tell you where he was going?" Edmon asked Arthero.

"He wanted to go to the highest point of the city," Arthero replied. "He said he wanted a good view of the south."

"A curious desire. That would be the bell tower at Adelmar Square," Singis said. "It is not far."

They headed toward the square. The markets were as busy as they ever were, with carts being loaded and vendors hawking the remaining wares before the next caravan departed Banningtown. The bell tower stood ahead, poised above the market.

"There, hanging off the edge of the steeple," Singis pointed. “How did he get up there?”

Edmon called to Kidu, who smiled and waved. He pointed south and waved again. Kidu seemed to ignore Edmon's call to come down.

"Can you retrieve him?" Edmon asked Arthero.

"You want me to climb up there?" Arthero laughed. "Who's going to retrieve me?"

"He's coming down now," Singis noticed. "Your friend is an odd fellow."

"No, he isn't," Edmon said. "Although I don't know what's gotten into him since we left the Gildemanse."

They waited for Kidu but he did not appear from the crowd. "Do you think Tsetsurg will relent and release the Red Guard?" Edmon asked. "Though the other Magisters have agreed, they will not send their men if Tsetsurg holds back."

"They've signed the commission," Singis said. "How can they renege on their oaths?"

"It's a piece of paper," Edmon said. "Don't you find it odd that our oaths, promises and contracts are laid out in something so easily destroyed? A treaty could get wet and torn and the alliances of a hundred years could tear away as well. As a person who has spent his life writing these papers, I can tell you it is only as good as a man's actions. His words are just as delicate as the paper itself."

The crowd parted and Kidu stepped forward. He stopped and looked behind him, then waited and walked again. A small pack of men walked behind Kidu, leading their horses.

"Menquist?" Edmon squinted.

“My boy!” Menquist held Edmon’s arms. “I’ve found you!”