Varga wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm before returning to basing the roasts in front of him. Of all the jobs he has done in life, including boot camp for the Vestigare, working in a kitchen might be the most grueling thing he has ever done.
“Get your head out of your arse, Varga,” Balrik barked, snapping Varga away from his thoughts.
“This food must be divine. If you stay focused, the fools will happily poison themselves and make us rich.”
Varga nodded for his response, not daring to take his eyes off his task.
After hours of tiresome, demanding work, Varga looked at the spread of food. It was gorgeous and, somehow, smelled even better than it looked. He had to stop himself several times from sneaking a bite despite watching Balrik meticulously poison the dishes.
“Good work, lads. I reserved some of the food for your efforts. It is always better to rob on a full stomach, even better if the food is this luxurious,” Balrik announced, gesturing to a table in the corner of the kitchen.
The others rushed to the table and started gobbling up the succulent-looking food. The Tazens, almost simultaneously, let out sighs of euphoria from the food.
Varga wiped his brow and hands clean, his mind drifting to the promises Balrik made to Varga and the Tazens if they pulled off this heist. Balrik had all but promised the crew the five moons and twin suns, but Varga knew he didn’t plan to sell the egg. How could he pay them such a fortune? As he mulled the question, Varga noticed Balrik wasn’t eating.
“Got to shed some weight first,” Varga quipped, rubbing his stomach in the universal gesture for using the restroom. “Try not to eat it all, boys.”
“No promises,” Obi laughed around mouth full of food.
“If you do, drinks are on you guys after the job,” Varga shot back, heading out of the kitchen.
Varga knew he’d kick himself if his paranoia made him miss the most lavish meal he’d ever seen. Still, “better safe than dead” had been his motto ever since becoming a Vestigare asset.
Varga stayed away until it was time to prepare. When he returned, the Tazens were already dressed in their serving uniforms. As Varga started changing, Balrik caught his eye.
“Remember what we discussed? Don’t treat the Tazens as your equals. They work for you; you work for me. Nothing makes the rich more uncomfortable than the idea of equality.”
“I remember,” Varga said, pulling on his uniform.
“You know what’s at stake. If Varga snaps at you like a spoiled child, you won’t take it personally, right?” Balrik said, his voice smooth but sharp as he addressed the Tazens.
“Of course not. Varga’s one of us,” Obi said with a chuckle, sparking laughter from the others.
Varga suspected Obi’s words were more a jape about his connection to Kokal, the mender, than any real camaraderie.
“Let’s get into character,” Balrik said. On command, the Tazens shed their easy-going demeanor, transforming into broken men with downcast eyes.
They wheeled the food carts into the mansion, down a long hallway, and into a grand room. The moment Varga stepped inside, his senses were hit by obscene displays of wealth. Chandeliers glittered with colored gemstones, and treasures from the Nawahl era and royal families across the Five Kingdoms filled the space.
Guests lounged about, sipping wines and liquors. The oval-shaped room had tables, chairs, and cushions scattered throughout, but Varga’s gaze soon locked on the large table beneath a stained-glass skylight. A rectangular shape sat in the center, draped in a plush green cover. The dragon egg, Varga assumed.
“Finally. My guests were growing so impatient I almost visited the kitchen myself.”
Varga focused on the voice addressing Balrik.
“My apologies, Mistress Maya, for the delay, but I won’t apologize for ensuring perfection for you and your esteemed guests,” Balrik said to the roundest Xandran woman Varga had ever seen. At first glance, he mistook her for a Ramon due to her size, but her tawny skin and familiar Xandran features told him she was a local.
Maya wore a frilly pink, orange, and green dress—something only a Xandran would dare. Her black hair was styled in large curls, and her dragon-shaped cane thumped rhythmically against the floor as she approached Balrik.
“My guests are so hungry that they would probably eat cooked water by now,” Maya said with a hearty chuckle, gesturing with her plump, jeweled hands toward the individuals socializing around the room. Varga suppressed a frown at Maya’s mention of “cooked water”—a dish of stale bread soaked in broth, common among Xandra’s lower class. Hardly fitting for pampered elites, though a familiar staple in most Xandran homes.
Suddenly, Varga realized that even being late with the food was part of Balrik’s plan. The elites of the Five Kingdoms were so accustomed to at least having finger foods when they socialized that the absence of them must have made them famished.
“I’d rather be damned to the seven hells than have my dishes mentioned alongside such peasant food, Mistress Maya. I promise tonight’s dishes will be spoken of with the beauty of your home and your generosity for decades to come,” Balrik said with a flourish worthy of a Xandran orator.
“Bold words, Master Geoff. We shall see,” Maya said with a chuckle before turning away from Balrik to announce that the food had arrived.
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Varga busied himself with the spread, careful not to attract the ire of a hungry, stressed rich woman.
Hours passed as the guests gorged themselves on food and drink. Varga watched the elites of the Five Kingdoms shovel poison into their mouths, never sparing him a word or second glance—unless to complain.
Varga clenched his jaw, barely containing his frustration as he served the thankless guests. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the façade, but when Maya headed toward the table, a hush of anticipation settled over the room.
“Esteemed guests. As much as I have enjoyed you drinking my wine and eating my food, I believe it is time to showcase why we have all gathered,” Maya paused for a round of polite laughter before continuing.
“My father was a dreamer. He believed that only the combined efforts of citizens of the Five Kingdoms could lift the Academy to the heavens and accomplish things of legends. For that reason, when my expedition to the Wildlands discovered this dragon egg.” She flung the green cover away with much fanfare.
Under the cover was a clear glass case, and sitting within it was a large, pearl white egg. Varga noticed the egg’s color changed from white to red as the light shifted in the room.
“I knew my father would have wanted it in the Academy. Tonight, we’ll make his dream a reality and ensure the Academy is well-funded to pursue more discoveries like this, thanks to your generous donations.”
The guests were captivated by the spectacle of the egg, and after a moment of stunned silence, they erupted into loud applause.
“I trust you’ll do the right thing and open your purse strings. Excuse me—what do you think you’re doing?”
Completely caught up in the moment, Varga barely noticed Balrik step up beside Maya, peeling off his white chef’s outfit to reveal his signature red leathers.
“I’d like to say a few words, Mistress Maya, if you don’t mind,” Balrik said, his voice smooth but his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge as he drew a wicked-looking dagger.
Before Maya could respond, Balrik seized her shoulders, stepping behind her as he pressed the dagger to her throat.
“Esteemed guests, if you value your lives, I suggest you listen carefully before doing anything rash—especially if you think magik can save you,” Balrik announced with calm authority.
“You there,” Balrik barked, gesturing with his dagger for the stragglers behind him to join the others. Once they obeyed, he scanned the room, satisfied none remained.
“I regret to inform you, you’ve all been poisoned. But before you panic, there’s good news—there’s an antidote.”
Balrik allowed the crowd to digest what he said.
“The poison you have ingested is called Magikis Pestius, otherwise known as…”
“Mage’s Bane,” Maya said, finishing Balrik’s sentence.
“Precisely! I do love an educated crowd,” Balrik replied with a grin.
“Nonsense! Mage’s Bane is an old wives’ tale to scare the Academy,” a man shouted from the crowd.
“It would be a shame to let ignorance be the cause of your demise. Fortunately, we can turn this into a teachable moment. Surrounded by prominent Academy members, surely someone with more expertise can enlighten you. Is there anyone with a background in alchemy who might save our friend’s life from his own lack of knowledge?”
It was surreal watching Balrik control a crowd of magikians with a threat that some didn’t even believe was possible.
After a moment, an Arzan man stepped forward. The Arzan looked to be middle-aged and wore elaborate yellow robes.
“I mastered in alchemy at the Academy,” the man said.
“Excellent. It is always a pleasure to meet a fellow man of the flask. Does Mage’s Bane exist, good sir?”
The Arzan bit his lip and looked down as if he did not like the taste of his answer, and after exhaling through his nose, he looked up again and spoke.
“Just so. However, I would like to state that its recipe has been buried in the forbidden archives for centuries.”
“You said you mastered in alchemy at the Academy, correct? Did you study under the great Archmage Munz?” Balrik asked, suddenly changing the topic.
The Arzan looked as confused as Varga felt, but he nodded in confirmation.
“Does he still teach pupils how to deconstruct potions?”
“Yes, but,” the Arzan started but stopped mid-sentence as Balrik placed his dagger back against Maya’s throat.
“Then I assume he still tells the story about who discovered the technique and taught him how to deconstruct?” Balrik asked, ignoring the whimpering from his hostage.
“Yes. Archmage Munz said the greatest alchemist in Cordizal’s history was a Nawahl Vestigare agent named… Balrik.” The Arzan’s eyes widened as he finally realized who stood before him.
“You are Balrik?”
“Guilty of that and many other things. To help educate your fellow dying colleagues, could you explain some of the properties of Mage’s Bane?”
The blue of the Arzan’s face drained, making him a shade of turquoise. He swallowed audibly and answered.
“Mage’s Bane is a lethal poison that accelerates when the victim uses ley or exerts themselves physically. Using ley especially speeds up the process.”
Standing near the front of the crowd, a young Xandran woman raised her arm, sending a burst of fire errantly in the air before she doubled over in pain. Balrik didn’t flinch, watching calmly as she began convulsing.
“People always doubt how fast the poison acts when you use ley. Explain the stages of the poison,” Balrik said, returning his attention to the Arzan in the yellow robes.
“First, balance and coordination fail, followed by convulsions. Finally, internal organs begin shutting down at random.”
“Usually the kidneys go first, then the lungs, the heart—but it can vary,” Balrik corrected.
Balrik snapped his finger, and Obi, Renzo, and Abdo carried three small, numbered, one through three, kegs to the table.
“I may be a thief, but I’ve no intention of being a murderer tonight. The antidote is in these kegs, but it has to be mixed in the right order or it will be a worthless foul-tasting concoction. I’ll give the instructions as I leave. I get what I want, and you all live.”
Varga could see the crowd calculating the offer when, finally, Maya nodded.
“We agree to your terms.”
“Excellent. I’ll walk Maya to the gates with the egg, and I’ll share the order for the antidote along the way. If there are no distractions, there might just be enough time to save your would-be heroine,” Balrik said, gesturing to the Xandran woman whose convulsions had finally ceased.
“Well, without further ado,” he continued, bending to seize the egg, “I’ll claim my prize.”
Suddenly, the stained glass skylight shattered. Two crossbow bolts struck Balrik—one in the shoulder, the other in the thigh. The impact spun him around, his dagger clattering to the floor.
“Gott und seine unehelichen Sohne!” Balrik spat, vanishing from sight.
Two figures descended from the broken skylight as the doors to the hall burst open.
“Vestigare! Lay down your weapons, and you will live!”
Then, chaos erupted.