The holy city was collapsing from within.

Princess Ansara strode through the well-maintained halls. It was placed largely empty with crumbling mortar. But the passing of many years since its construction could not take away the grandeur. The servants had only recently cleaned this area, setting up banners and such. It was a bitter irony that so much effort should go into hanging heraldry for her house. This meeting was hardly one that Ansara thought people would want to remember.

She decided to take it as a sign the servants cared. At least more than her Mother.

Her Father, Prince Bor Antion was a bulky man with orangish brown hair and a neat beard. His eyes were blue, and he looked tired in his fur cloak. "Ansara, what are you doing here? I told you I was having a meeting."

Ansara stood firm beneath his doubting glance. It was a good question for him to ask. "I'm a disobedient child, Father. One day, I will be Queen of Antion, and I want to be Queen in my own right."

"This is no laughing matter we are discussing here today," said Bor. "What happens here is of vital importance."

"I want to see it for myself," said Ansara. "It concerns me."

"...Very well, but you must speak to no one without my permission," said Bor.

"As you wish," lied Ansara. "If I might ask, why are we meeting here?"

"Father left it long ago and operated in a much smaller and easier-to-defend area," said Bor. "Though he deals mainly with foreign policy and negotiations.

"He's not as young as he once was, though."

Coming to a door reinforced with iron, he fit in a key and opened it. Opening it, he motioned to his bodyguards, who entered. When they gave the all-clear, Bor went through, followed by Ansara.

Within, Ansara saw two men and their guards sitting at a long rectangular table of strong but faded wood. The walls here were better made and repairs had been made in this room. You had an armoire on one wall, placed close to a chair. Duke Letan had taken that chair, which Ansara supposed the others appreciated. The Duke was clad in a blue military uniform, the sort used at knighting ceremonies. His clothes were military uniforms made in other worlds, with a high collar and dark fabric.

His gaze fell over her, and Ansara faltered.

"Ah, Your Highness, we were expecting you," said the other, and for a moment, Ansara thought he'd said it to her. But, of course, he was looking at Father, not her; she was merely behind him.

The man himself looked very fine indeed. He was clad in a green button-down shirt with loose white sleeves and a dark cloak. He had short, dark hair and looked about forty. He smiled politely, and several warriors with short swords were behind him. A little ways off, Ansara saw a boy with a curved knife, and well...

The boy was beautiful. He had spiky dark hair falling over one eye and smooth, unscarred features. Clad in a blue tunic, he sat near Arkan, who had bright blue eyes and tranquil features. His hands were clasped before him on the table, and he was clean-shaven and with a slender build.

Was he a protege?

And then there was Saul near Marn, looking analytical as always. Then was another; a little further down by the shadows, there was a giant of a man. He wore black armor as dark as a moonless night, and his eyes glowed with an evil yellow. His skin was dark, and on his back was a sword as large as he was tall.

"I apologize, Arkan. We've had much work elsewhere," said Father, sitting down. "Duke Marn."

"I stand ready to serve, of course," said Duke Marn.

"And am I right in assuming this is your daughter, young Ansara?" asked Arkan, standing and kissing her hand.

"I am," said Ansara, reminding herself she must appear weak. "Would you be Arkan, the leader of the Thieves Guild?"

Arkan smiled somewhat begrudgingly. "Yes, a somewhat ceremonial position that is wholly real. Don't mind Tavish or my son, Lamech; they are professional and merely here to observe." He did not mention the guards around them, waiting to spring into action. "In my company is Duke Letan Marn and the Lady Atravain, as well as the Lord Dunmore of the Paladin Order."

Lamech was his son? Why was he wearing such evil attire? Especially since he had glowing yellow eyes and a sword nearly his size. Was Lamech making some statement?

"Perhaps we should get to business," said Letan.

And they sat down. But Ansara knew she must establish herself as credible and not merely a pretty face in over her head. "I would first like to know exactly why the royal family needs to work with a Thieves Guild?"

"Ah, yes, the question no one dares to ask," laughed Arkan.

"You may answer it, Arkan," said Bor. Lamech looked to Bor, and then Arkan and Ansara wondered why. Armored gauntlets were clasped together.

"Yes, I'd like to hear his justification," said Marn, looking down the table to Dunmoore, who nodded. Dunmoore was of the Paladin Order and had at his side a long sword with the lion of the Paladin Order on it. But he said nothing.

Neither did Lamech, as usual, simply observing everyone in the room.

"It's a somewhat sophisticated answer," said Arkan. "You see, crime is an inevitable part of every society."

"But why do we need a Thieves Guild?" asked Ansara.

"To regulate crime, of course," said Arkan.

"Do we not have the city guard for that?" asked Ansara.

"Well, the city guard has uses, of course," said Arkan, retreating under her gaze. "But they know nothing of how we operate. My organization knows everything there is to know about its operations. Ten years ago, many people died because isolated villages had to wait for a traveling healer. These days, though, every village in the heartlands has its outpost." Ansara knew this to be an exaggeration, but it couldn't be denied there had been some effect.

"And why could this not be done by the nobility?" asked Ansara. Lamech looked to the door as though expecting an attack.

"Well, the law and the nobility are occupied with many important matters. From war in countries far away to selling goods in other regions," said Arkan, shifting. "And the law must work very, very, hard to lower crime even slightly. All we have to do is work less."

"If we're going to have crime, we might as well have organized crime," surmised Ansara.

"Perhaps we should return to the subject of this meeting, Lord Bor," said Arkan.

"Duke Marn, if you would," said Bor with a nod.

"Gentlemen, I shall be honest; we're about to face a major economic crisis," said Marn. "Numerous businesses are facing a full shutdown within Antion and outside of it. And many of the weapon merchants were already in serious trouble. If nothing is done, Antion could collapse."

Ansara paused and considered how best to present herself. "I've walked Antion's streets and seen no sign of this." Granted, she'd been well-armed with Arkan's guards, which is more than most could say.

"It hasn't hit yet," said Letan. "Elsewhere, the Calishan Wars ended too early. Duke Vanion is quite a shrewd player."

"I can back this up," said Tavish. "Vanion didn't rise as quickly as he did by being lazy."

Ansara had met the man; his ambition was beyond limitless. The moment he walked into the palace, he immediately started looking for opportunities. Vanion did excellent service. And when he did not receive the reward he wanted, he destroyed the people who got it instead. Argath Marn, Borinius, the nobility of Artarq, the satyr clans who opposed him, and even his allies.

Each had been given something he believed was rightfully his. So, he engineered their downfall and took his rightful place. His record was terrifying and wonderful to read. He might have been the greatest thief who ever lived, but Vanion would never lower himself to be a thief.

"We suspect," said Bor. "They may try to arrange a political marriage between their house and our own."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Would they truly dare that?" asked Ansara.

"He is a political adversary to me, as any of you know," said Marn.

"Oh yeah, personal desires and emotions aren't important," said Tavish. "We're benevolent and well-intentioned masterminds interested in the common good of the realm."

"I note the disdain in your tone, Tavish," said Dunmoore. "I fear your pride has been wounded."

"I'll admit we've grown lax from fearing only the Paladin Order," said Dunmoore.

"You insult me," said Dunmoore.

"Dueling is illegal," said Lamech. "The fact that you are offended means nothing."

"Lamech, Tavish, Dunmoore," said Father. "Do you have suggestions about what to do about William?" Let them think she is an enemy, and she could guess how they would act.

"You could just send him an invitation into the order and then send William off to some far-off place," said Tavish. "That would instantly cut this entire movement down in the bud."

"The Paladin Order is not a social club," said Dunmoore. "Membership is not granted solely for political convenience."

Letan, Dunmoore, and Arkan had despised one another for years; that was obvious. Only now was it escalating, and they were losing sight of the true problem.

"This is off the point," said Letan. "There are reports of families squatting in the lands west of Brisgald. I also have accounts that they have taken to freeing or murdering slaves. Others have turned to outright banditry. More than I would have liked."

Ansara paused. "But where did these men come from?"

"They are Harleorians, milady," said Marn. "Men who lost their lands because they went to war and had their lands bought while they were gone. My Uncle, Argath Marn, has often written to me. I believe Lady Atravain can explain the details."

At that moment, Ansara became aware of Lady Atravain. She had been introduced before, but she had faded into the background. She was a tall, pale-skinned woman in the shadows. Her hair was white, and her face seemed frozen in place, pale and perfect in complexion. Yet also terrible, somehow. Her eldest daughter, Janice, was sitting to one side. "It is their fault.

"My purpose as a noble is to ensure the prosperity of the domain as a whole, not cater to every lazy farmer. These men made foolish financial decisions and were forced to sell their farms. It is hardly my responsibility if they don't want to do the work of raising crops.

"The fields have to be grown by someone, and since they will not do it, we arrange for slaves to do it. They must pay the price for their economic missteps."

"Isn't that somewhat heartless?" asked Ansara, despite herself.

"It may seem so on the surface, but I do not think you fully understand the situation," said Atravain. "Many of these men view humans as superior and all others weak and worthy of destruction. Yes, of course, people in Antion and people as a whole understand the truth. But some of these people are backward, and many are driven by hatred.

"There is no good economic reason to go on crusade."

"Very fine words to describe the entire population of Antion, milady," said Dunmoore. "I may take your words as a personal insult."

"Of course, not all of them fit this description," said Atravain, looking at him with irritation. As if repeating something often said to others and annoyed her view was not shared. "I was merely speaking in very general terms."

"All the same, shouldn't we talk to them or do something about this?" asked Ansara, deciding she had to intervene. "We can't just repay violence with violence."

"Yes, well, myself and the other Lords have been hiring some of them," said Atravain. "We might have bolstered the border guard against Arraxia. Yet satyrs have stopped raiding, so even employed fighting men are of ill repute. If only Vanion hadn't ended the war before it even began, this wouldn't be a problem."

"Because they'd have all died and never find out what you did to them?" asked Tavish. "I thought you opposed them going to war."

"That is an insult," said Atravain.

"I was suggesting that you pay the price for your own economic missteps," said Tavish.

"Enough," said Bor. "Arkan, you will speak."

"Yes, well, all of this culminated in a very dangerous situation," said Arkan. "These rebels, if you permit the word, have been whipped into a frenzy. Culminating in a letter from Reg Hawkthorne, given to me. Most of us have already read it. I have it here if you wish."

Ansara took the letter. "Perhaps you could give me a summary."

"As you wish," said Dunmoore. "He has effectively taken over the port of Ascorn on the northern shore, using an army of mercenaries. Baron Rius is alive but a prisoner, and he wants me to help him out. I have also been told that Babarassian mercenaries have been filtering in for some time. They are one of the major operatives of the slave trade. Reg claims to be acting on behalf of House Gabriel."

"Isn't House Hawkthorne an ally of House Gabriel?" asked Ansara, thinking of the Hawkthorne's deplorable reputation.

"Technically, yes," said Letan. "For all intents and purposes, no. Vanion's brother Arthur did marry one of the Baron's daughters, but the dowry was small. She made no contact with her family after leaving. Hawkthorne is little more than a subordinate House to House De Chevlon. And given that it is the vampire half of the De Chevlon's, it is hardly even that."

"...I don't understand," admitted Ansara.

"House De Chevlon has two houses," said Letan. "One, a living noble house that handles important affairs. And one in which every person within wants to become a vampire. And two, a clan of vampires that make all the real decisions. Some decades ago, there was a schism. The humans broke with the vampires, save for Saphra De Chevlon.

"And the Baroness Saphra has been exchanging letters with Raynald De Chevlon."

"Raynald is Vanion's chief lieutenant, yes?" asked Ansara.

"Indeed," said Bor. "The two have had a long association. Once, Raynald was the leader. But Vanion has since surpassed him."

"So this was done by House Gabriel?" asked Ansara, deciding to get to the point.

"Probably not," said Arkan, shaking his head. "This move is far too sloppy to ever be done by Vanion. We are already handling it and we expect things should return to normal."

"The problem is that the slave trade has been completely shut down in the meantime," said Atravain. "The Baroness De Chevlon has bought up every single slave she could find on the market. Then they shipped them all off to Castle Blackfear. And Sorn buys most of the slaves in the Sea of Power market.

"Slaves die on the job, and they rarely reproduce. And there are reports of plagues spreading among them. Abolitionists have even freed some."

"What is the source of this plague?" asked Ansara. She had no power here, and she had to remember it. All she could hope was that Father would realize she wasn't as stupid as she had pretended to be.

They haven't spent much time together recently.

"Plagues happen now and then," said Atravain. "It will pass in time, and we have more healers to deal with it than ever before. The problem is the timing.

"Without manpower, there will be no crops. The city of Antion could starve if a solution is not found. Some crops are already ripening, and there aren't people to harvest them. I have been hiring hands, but it is expensive.

"My finances are limited.

"If people start starving, the Kingdom will collapse. It is as simple as that."

"I already have one if it is to be allowed," said Arkan.

"And what is that?" asked Bor, surprised.

"For some time now, I have been communicating with King Gavin of Haldren's go-between," said Arkan. "Since malas production has become more efficient than ever, we should humor him. If malas do not have a legitimate buyer, someone will find an illegitimate one."

"How does this help us?" asked Ansara.

"Haldren has many problems of its own," said Arkan. "Among them are the Furbearers, as they are called. They subsist upon raw fish and once worshiped the Withering. Many battles were fought with them to drive them out.

"Now, however, they are limited to the western shore and the Islands of Torment."

"I have had to civilize some of the creatures on my plantations," said Atravain. "They are illiterate, subsist on raw meat, and hardly better than satyrs. However, they share their ability to survive the conditions. Harlenorian slaves are less suited to the task.

"They could make ideal workers for the plantations."

"Yes," said Arkan. "Lord Rius has arranged for the Babarassians to establish colonies. They are situated on the Islands of Torment and are trading ports. Traders to dock and sell wares without restrictive fees.

"It provides opportunities for commerce that aren't usually available. Several such operations are also held on the shores."

"But why would we allow the Babarassians to do so? Is that entirely safe?" asked Ansara.

"Perhaps not, but every action has risks, even the act of doing nothing," said Arkan. "Apparently, they believe it is worth the risk."

Ansara hadn't read the official records, but there was no time for it now.

"At any rate, King Gavin has agreed to provide shipments of slaves taken from the Furbearers. He'll send them to the domain of Baron Rius," said Arkan. "In exchange, he requires shipments of malas, all to perform certain necessary rituals."

"But all this talk of slavery, is it really right? Couldn't we just hire more hands?" asked Ansara.

"Can we hire hands from a population that will not work?" asked Atravain, looking angry.

Lady Atravain had good reason to hate the common people. Ansara had read stories of the horrors her lands had endured. Criminals and demon cults had taken root. Once a proper young lady, she'd nearly been savaged several times. No one had given her position of authority even the slightest bit of respect. Borinius had been of little use.

That was when Raynald, Kafka, Vanion, Arthur, and all the others came to her aid. Even then, they still rebelled against her. And her solution, in the end, was simple;

Turn Kafka loose.

That was probably why Tavish hated her.

Ansara had to admit she was finding this a bit hard to follow, but she kept listening.

"Hiring more workers would be expensive," said Atravain. "And that is assuming that they don't plant spies for bandits. King Andoa abolished the militia system, which was the best thing he had ever done. But we ought to have disarmed them entirely; then we could have simply dictated what needed to be done."

"Enlisting the services of additional laborers is not practical," said Letan. "And they are liable to be bitter if, having lost their farms, they are hired back as despised servants.

"In the long term, I am an abolitionist. Unfortunately, if slavery were abolished tomorrow, Antion would starve. A new source of slaves must be found in this year's harvest to come in."

"There may be a means by which it can be made easier," noted Arkan. "I have been establishing settlements for some time that cater to off-the-books outposts. In them, I find men work as caravan guards and enforcers. I am certain I can arrange for them to be put to work.

"Perhaps in hunting the satyr clans gathering on the knees of the Black Mountain."

"I have not heard of this," said Bor.

"They have been doing so mostly within the bounds of the Black Mountain," said Arkan. "So far as we can tell, many of them are escaped slaves. Others have come from the Black Marshes of Gel Carn or Seathorius. And there were always settlements of them on the bounds of Blackfear.

"Over the past few years, their numbers have swelled. I believe we could establish fortifications on the border with them. Using these, we could hem them in. We could prevent any sudden onslaughts, as well as arrange trade opportunities."

"What kind of trade opportunities?" asked Ansara.

"Well, satyrs have always had a great love of alcohol," said Arkan. "I expect there will be a serious market there. That will help keep them complacent. All the thuggish fighting men will be kept occupied while we operate freely.

"By the time events die down, we should have the situation fully in hand."

"Why would Neral Dinis turn a blind eye to it?" asked Ansara, shuddering at the memory of the vampire lord.

"Well, he is a vampire," said Arkan

"For now..." said Ansara. "Are we all agreed?"

Everyone looked at one another.

"We are," said Bor.

Ansara was not looking forward to what came next.