The conference room felt like a tomb. Silent, heavy and suffocating. Urs sat hunched forward, his big frame looking smaller than usual. His elbows were on his knees while he stared at the floor like it had all the answers. Visla was right beside him, one hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t seem like he even noticed. Vrintas sat back, just watching. No surprise there.
And then there was the king. Oh boy. The man looked like he’d slept maybe two hours in the last week - gaunt, hollow-eyed, slumped in his chair like someone had glued him there. As per usual, it was depressing just to look at.. The idea of him being the one handle something serious right now wasn't exactly comforting.
Valira was here too, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. I suppose as Erderus' oldest she had to be present. No sign of her sister, Orindra, though. She’d been shipped off south to the Xeshmunite Empire for some big marriage negotiation. You know, the usual “marry this person or we all go to war” kind of deal. Good times.
Hern stood at the king’s side, as stoic as ever. The guy was a like a stone pillar, but even pillars can crack and crumble, and today? He seemed... off. It didn’t take a genius to see something bad was coming.
“Thank you all for coming.” King Erderus said, his voice as dry as he looked. “I... I have grave news.”
Urs’ raised his head slowly. Everyone knew something was wrong, but hearing it from the king just made it real. Too real.
“There has been... an assassination attempt on Commander Yovker.”
And boom, just like that, the whole room froze. Visla’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Rheka gasped, and even Zilra stopped pretending to be bored. Tavrin shifted in his seat, fidgeting like he couldn’t get comfortable.
But Urs? He just stared at the king, disbelief and anger brewing behind those eyes of his.
“Yovk…” Urs muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.
The king nodded, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “He... remains unconcious. But his condition has worsened. The assassin... took his own life before we could question him.”
Well, of course he did. Gotta love a tidy cover-up.
Hern stepped forward, his tone was refined. “An investigation is underway, but with the assassin dead, progress is slow. We’ve yet to uncover how they infiltrated the palace, despite all security being intact.”
Urs, finally snapping out of his daze, clenched his jaw and asked the question everyone was thinking. “Who was on duty guarding Yovk?”
The king looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Skelduz.”
Wait. Skelduz? The guy who looks like he could bench-press a building? How the hell did anyone get past him? That man was practically a walking wall of armor with a rainbow shield to top it off. You’d probably need a small army just to distract him, let alone get past.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else, but Urs definitely heard it. His fists were clenched so tight, I thought he might break the chair he was sitting in.
“I don’t understand.” Urs growled. “Skelduz... is no ordinary guard. How could this happen?”
Hern exchanged a glance with Valira, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes. Doubt? Uncertainty? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“We’re still figuring that out.” Hern said. “I assure you, we will get to the bottom of it.”
Will we, though? I had my doubts. Things like this never ended with a simple answer. There was always more going on beneath the surface. And if someone could pull one over on Skelduz, we were dealing with something bigger than just an angry assassin.
“We will continue the investigation.” Hern added, his voice the same steady monotone. “Some of you may need to be questioned. But rest assured, we will find out what happened.”
The room went quiet again, the weight of everything hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Urs looked like he was barely holding it together. Meanwhile, Vrintas sat back, his usual indifferent expression in place, but even he seemed... off.
The King sighed, rubbing his temples like the whole situation was giving him a migraine. “My deepest apologies everyone..”
That did it. Urs stood up so fast, his chair almost toppled over. “I need to be alone.” he muttered, storming out of the room before anyone could stop him.
Visla, pale and shaken, followed him out, leaving the rest of us sitting there in awkward silence. Vrintas stayed behind, his eyes narrowing as if trying to figure out the missing pieces.
Personally, I had no relation to this Yovker fellow. I hadn't even seen the guy yet. But I could tell that he was someone dear to most of the people in the room.
A commander. Right.
By then I knew that both Urs and Hern had that same role. I'd heard there were two more I hadn't met yet. They were probably on the Xeshmunite border, keeping the peace and whatnot. Yovker must be the head of the other four then. But he wasn't just their superior, no. Yovker was a close friend to both Urs and Hern. And someone wanted that friend dead. Who, though? There could be hundreds of people that qualified. Enemies from other countries? Political rivals? Someone simply fueled by envy? How was one to go about this? I reckoned Skelduz was propably the most reliable first lead. But no. This wasn't my job to find out. I had some other plans for now. The first of which would lead us right through the city.
***
As we left the suffocating gloom of the palace behind, I tried to shake off the weight of that room. Zilra had insisted on showing us this “Scourger’s Guild,” whatever that was. Frankly, after the whole assassination business, I could use a distraction.
We rushed through the parts of the upper district we had to and stepped into the middle quarter of the city. Entering the marketplace, the difference in atmosphere was immediate. It was packed. Stalls upon stalls, lining every corner of the open space, with sellers shouting their deals and people weaving in and out like they had somewhere incredibly important to be. It smelled like spices, smoke, and desperation. This place was huge, stretching over multiple levels, farther than the eye could see.Tents flapping in the breeze and merchants displaying everything from fruits to weapons to gods-know-what.
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I kept an eye out for one particular thing, though. Blacksmiths. Not for the usual swords and shields, though. No. That stuff was of no use to me. But I had a little plan brewing in the back of my mind, and it involved something a bit more, you guessed it - creative.
“So, Argi.” Rheka started, practically skipping beside me. “What do you think the Scourger’s Guild does?”
“Honestly?” I said, dodging a cart that almost ran over my tail. “If it’s anything like the name, I’m guessing they scourge people.”
“Very funny.” Zilra chimed in from the front, not even turning around.
Then she stopped to face us. "Wait. This isn't your lack of education shining through, like with the dragons. You're... joking, right?"
Rheka and I exchanged a glance, then we both shook our heads at Zilra.
"I told you it was true." Tavrin chuckled, bumping into Rheka as he walked past.
"What was true?" I asked, slowly running out of patience.
"The Scourge." Zilra said in the most deadpan way she probably could. "The Scourge of Sol."
I blinked. What are you yapping about, brat?
"On the day that the earth beneath our feet shattered and the lands we call ours rioted against us." She said in a sarcastic tone as if she was preaching from the holy bible. "That Scourge of Sol."
"You're meaning to tell me that whole apocalypse twaddling is true? Like... like history? I thought that was just fiction! A legend!" I shouted at the end.
"No!" Zilra shouted back. "You two really are uneducated peasants."
Then she turned around and continued walking. I could hear Tavrin laugh in the distance.
Rheka shrugged before she walked off as well.
How was I supposed to know?!
Every damn country in my old world had its own made-up fanfiction origin story. One more ridiculous than the other! I wasn't going to take literature like that at face value?!
"The Scourge of Sol." I scoffed. Sure then. Apparently, it was the catastrophe that had wiped out the Solidan Empire, about a thousand years ago. Yeah, no big deal, just a minor hiccup in history. The way it was explained, you'd think the world had hit some kind of giant reset button. Imagine an empire, thriving for two thousand years, only to be swallowed up by a magical explosion of fire, ash, and who knows what else. Empires fall, sure, but usually not with a boom like that. I thought that was just their excuse, or someone making fun of them after the fact.
One day, an orange-and-blue orb pops out of the capital city of Solaria and starts expanding like someone left it in the microwave too long. It slowly spreads across the land, filling the sky with ash and turning the air into a fiery nightmare. Before it could engulf everything, the thing snaps back together with a bang so loud, folks living far far beyond heard it like it was right next door.
And let’s not forget the rain. Not water, mind you. No, that would be too easy. It rained molten Manatrite. Literal mana-infused molten rock falling from the sky. Good luck with your umbrella in that situation.
Best of all, nobody knew where or how it came to be, who was at fault or if it was even just a natural disaster.
Now tell me: how was I supposed to bet my bottom dollar on that?
Eventually I was broken out of my angry trail of thought. Ah. Forget it.
My eyes had caught onto a stall off to the side, set up with an assortment of weapons. Not just any weapons, though - these were made of rather strange metals. One rack had swords and spearheads made of this black, almost glossy metal, and another row had weapons in a strikingly bright, silverish-white.
Weird.
We walked over, and the blacksmith, a burly man with a beard that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in years, gave us a nod. “See somethin’ you like?”
I pointed at the black and white blades. “What’s with these? I can't recall ever having seen metal like that before.”
He turned to me, raising an eyebrow like I’d just asked what the sky was. “Seriously? Where you from, talking lizard? Realm runs on this stuff. Finstersteel,” he tapped the black blade, “and Klarsteel,” he patted the white one. “Finster absorbs what them wizards call mana, Klar deflects it. Simple as that.”
“Absorbs mana?” Rheka repeated, her eyes wide. “And deflects it?”
The blacksmith grinned. “Surprised you’ve never seen it. Klarsteel’s a favorite among knights, ‘specially if they’re going up against one of them spellthrowers. Finster, though - that’s for... other work.”
I narrowed my eyes at the Finstersteel blades. “Absorbs mana, huh? Could be useful.”
We thanked the blacksmith and moved on, but my mind was already running through some ideas. I had a plan in mind. A plan that might just pay off big.
We passed by a few more stalls, each one less reputable than the last. Finally, we stopped at a particularly shady-looking setup, tucked away in the corner, half-hidden by a tattered tent. The kind of place you go to if you’re looking for something... under the table.
I glanced at Rheka, who grinned back at me. She already knew what was coming. I just had to give her my signature look and she was on board. The same look we'd been giving each other since the early days of sneaking into the old man's basement. The look of mischief on the horizon.
The blacksmith at this stall was lean, with shifty eyes and a permanent frown. I had Rheka pick up one of the supposed Finstersteel blades. Then she put it onto my back. The same procedure we'd gone through in most of the other stalls before. That way I could properly feel the weight.
It felt... off. Too light. Too cheap.
“Does it really absorb mana?” I asked, not looking up.
"'Course it does,” the blacksmith muttered. He had a sharp accent. It reminded me of Bameball. That grunkly, bearded officer of Hern's. “Only the best here.” He continued.
“Only the best, huh?” I said, glancing at Rheka. “Mind giving it a shot?”
Rheka nodded, stepping forward and casting a tiny bulb of Luminance toward the blade. Nothing. No reaction. Not even a flicker.
I smirked. “Yeah, only the best, alright. Fake.”
The blacksmith’s eyes darted left and right. “It’s not fake! Just... might need some tuning, is all.”
“Right.” I said, shaking the blade off my back. It made the same noise your spoon would when you dropped it at 3AM in the morning. “You’ve been selling counterfeit goods, haven’t you?”
His face went pale. “I- uh-”
Before he could stammer his way out of it, I flicked my tongue to give a signal. Rheka reached into her pouch, pulling out a small handful of coins. We'd gotten these as compensation from Hern. You know? For the bloody work we did at Felsvar.
“How about this?” I said, my voice as sweet as honey. “We make a deal. We’ll keep quiet about your little... business, if you help us with something.”
The blacksmith’s eyes flicked to the coins, then to us. “What... what do you want?”
Simple.” I said. “I want you to make us more of these coins. A lot more. You know how it works. The good ol’ trim around the edges. You’ve done it before, I’m sure.”
He looked like he was about to pass out. “I... I can’t. If anyone finds out-”
“Who’s gonna find out?” I said, stretching my face towards him. “You don’t want the guards poking around, do you? And we’re not asking for much. Just a few... extra coins. It’s not like anyone’s going to notice.”
His hands were trembling now, but he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? “Fine... fine. I’ll do it. Just... don’t tell anyone.”
I grinned, showing my fangs. "Good man. A plesaure doing business. I'll be finding you at a later time. Then we'll get started."
As we left the stall, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. This was big. If it worked out. But I had all the confidence in the world. In that man's abilities.
“That was easy.” Rheka said, tossing the pouch of coins in her hand.
“Yeah.” I muttered, glancing back at the stall. “Too easy. Let's just hope our new friend stays quiet.”
Zilra rolled her eyes. "You know I could have you two disappear for that."
"Yes but... will you?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow.
She gave me a long, sideways glance, then sighed dramatically. "You're lucky I find you two entertaining. But if anyone catches you... you're on your own."
We continued down the street, the all too famous Scourger’s Guild still waiting ahead. But for now, I had everything I needed. My scheme was in motion, and if things went smoothly...
...I’d be earning myself a sweet allowance very soon.