Felix's sword sought the moment to end the fight, his strikes precise yet desperate. Not long ago, the man before him had been a fellow moat guard, a partner he’d stood watch with for years. They’d shared shifts, words, and silent hours on the bridge. And yet, Felix had realized tonight that he truly knew nothing about him. That mystery—why a good man had turned—might forever remain unanswered. Now, their blades clashed in a brutal dance, each strike meant to kill.

The traitor moved with agility, his feet light as he sidestepped Felix's advance, creating distance. With a deft motion, he spun his spear from his palms and lunged. Felix raised his shield just in time, the blow ringing out into the night.

“Why?!” Felix’s voice cracked, his frustration and confusion spilling into the cold air.

The only answer was a guttural snarl: “Die!”

The spear jabbed relentlessly, seeking a chink in Felix’s armor. Felix countered, leaping forward to close the distance, negating the reach advantage. His sword found its mark, piercing the guard’s chest with a sickening sound. For a moment, Felix thought it was over—until searing pain ripped through his side. The guard’s spear had struck home, exploiting a gap in Felix’s armor.

Both men faltered. The guard’s spear clattered to the ground as his body stiffened, his eyes glazing over in death. Felix staggered, blood seeping through his armor. His mind screamed at him to keep moving. He had to reach the city, alert the Xargian Guard, warn them of treachery.

His legs carried him forward, heavy and unsteady. The commotion had drawn the attention of other guards. Shapes moved in the darkness, and Felix’s chest tightened—were they allies or enemies? He would never know.

With one final, shuddering step, Felix collapsed onto the bridge, the cold stone beneath him pulling him into unconsciousness.

The soldiers moved quickly, carrying both Felix and the fallen guard to a discreet location, their movements shrouded in the deepening night. "Shouldn't we be closing the moat bridge by now?" one soldier whispered sharply, glancing around nervously. "Not yet," another muttered. "We wait until the representatives from the Golden Bank have departed. It won’t be much longer."

Overhead, the night sky continued to darken, the heavens consumed by the encroaching darkness. Yet, piercing through the gloom, a full moon hung high, its pale glow spilling silver light across the landscape.

**********

The feasting table buzzed with activity. The royal siblings and the two summoned champions seemed to be enjoying themselves, forming a lively group amidst the grander festivities unfolding around them. Each found satisfaction in their own way: Xemena, for the first time in her life, had danced on the ballroom floor; Xander refrained from dancing but observed with his usual quiet demeanor; Xhiva savored the food and drink with evident delight; and Roy and Gustavus, gradually relaxing, discovered that beneath their harsh exteriors, the royal siblings were human too.

But Niles was nowhere to be found among them. He was busy elsewhere, fueled by the urge for mischief. Taking full advantage of his diplomatic immunity—or so he liked to think—he reasoned that since he was already banished, there wasn’t much more they could do to him anyway.

His gaze landed on Zacharias—whom he’d nicknamed Snake Eyes—conversing with two men dressed in opulent gold and white attire. One was short and stocky, with no discernible neck and a faint, light-colored mustache. The other was unnervingly thin, clean-shaven, with oversized ears. Both wore sashes draped diagonally across their chests, adorned with brooches bearing the emblem of a golden pig.

"Time to make some new acquaintances," Niles muttered to himself with a mischievous grin, rubbing his hands together like a scheming rogue.

With the swagger of a modern-day hip-hop fan, Niles strutted toward Zacharias and his two guests. His movements were so unconventional that nearby onlookers couldn’t help but stare, some whispering that he might have had too much wine. But Niles wasn’t drunk—he was simply high on life.

“Yo, Zacharias, my brother from another mother!” Niles greeted, his voice loud and exaggerated, immediately tightening the tension in the First Prince of Zairule’s shoulders. Zacharias looked both bewildered and mildly irritated. “What?” he muttered, visibly caught off guard.

Taking Zacharias’s confusion as an invitation, Niles turned his attention to the two men beside him, grinning broadly. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, his tone as cheerful as it was disarming.

Still recovering from the sudden intrusion, Zacharias gave a hesitant nod and gestured toward Niles. “This is… Niles,” he managed.

“...A summoned champion from Earth!” Niles chimed in, wiggling his fingertips theatrically in front of the guests’ faces like a magician mid-performance. The two men exchanged awkward glances, unsure how to respond.

Clearing his throat with a deliberate cough, Zacharias quickly tried to steer the interaction. “We were just leaving,” the shorter man with the pale mustache interjected smoothly, his tone clipped. The taller one gave a curt nod, clearly eager to exit.

“Well, thank you for the conversation, Lord Zacharias,” the mustached man added politely, ignoring Niles entirely.

But Niles was unfazed. You couldn’t outmaneuver a salesman from Earth, especially one seasoned in external sales. As the two men turned to leave, Niles called out, his grin undeterred, “What’s up with the golden pigs?” He pointed casually at the brooches on their sashes, his voice brimming with curiosity and just the right amount of mischief.

“It’s the symbol of the Golden Bank,” the mustachioed man replied, his tone dripping with self-importance. “We are here as representatives. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must be on our way. Have a pleasant evening.” His formal words came swiftly, clearly designed to shut down the conversation.

But Niles, ever the opportunist and adept at handling objections—whether in sales or life (though not without the occasional sting)—wasn’t so easily dismissed. With a knowing grin, he grabbed a goblet from a passing silver platter carried by one of the castle’s tireless servants. “What’s the hurry?” he asked, his voice casual but laced with intrigue.

“Our business is our own,” the mustachioed man’s taller companion added curtly. “Once again, thank you for your time, Lord Zacharias. We’ll be sure to remain in contact.”

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

Zacharias, visibly relieved to see them go, gave a small bow. “Of course,” he said smoothly.

“Now, let’s be on our way. It’s getting late,” the mustachioed man urged, gesturing toward the exit.

Niles wasn’t done yet. As they moved to leave, he called after them, his tone deceptively light, “Aren’t you going to bid farewell to the king or the royal heirs before you go?” With the same motion, he plucked a gleaming dessert fork from a nearby tray, as if preparing for some harmless mischief.

The mustachioed man stiffened, exhaling sharply before responding, “We’ve already spoken with the king earlier. Thank you for your consideration.” He moved to dismiss Niles again, but Niles leaned in just enough to toss a baited hook.

“Did you tell the king about the Golden Bank’s secret?” he asked, his grin widening.

The words hit their mark. Both representatives froze mid-step, their nervous glances betraying them as they turned back to face him. “What secret?” the mustachioed man demanded, his voice tight.

Zacharias, his composure slipping into frustration, hissed under his breath, “What are you doing? Stop it!”

But Niles was already in motion. Ignoring Zacharias entirely, he struck the rim of his goblet with the dessert fork in his hand. The sharp ringing reverberated across the hall, commanding attention.

“Announcement!” he bellowed, his voice booming over the festive chatter.

The musicians faltered, their instruments falling silent as the ballroom’s atmosphere shifted. Every head turned toward the sudden commotion, their gazes fixed on Niles, Zacharias, and the two representatives from the Golden Bank, now standing awkwardly in the spotlight.

“Thank you, everyone, for sharing this beautiful ball with us tonight,” Niles began, his voice carrying across the hall, capturing the attention of every guest.

“What the hell is he doing?” Roy whispered harshly from his seat, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

“He’s going to get us in trouble again,” Gustavus muttered, nervously glancing between Niles and Xemena. Her eyes were fixed on Niles, unblinking, her expression unreadable.

“Or worse,” Gustavus added, swallowing hard.

Xhiva, mid-bite, paused his meal to analyze the unfolding situation, his sharp gaze cutting through the tension. Meanwhile, Xander rose quietly from his seat, choosing to melt into the edges of the crowd, ready to observe from a safer vantage point.

Unfazed, Niles continued, his grin widening. “And thank you, King Xerxes, ruler of this land, the Dragon of a Thousand Crowns, for organizing such a magnificent celebration. Let’s all give him a round of applause!”

He began clapping, a single man igniting a reluctant wave. Slowly, the crowd joined in, their polite applause filling the room. But not everyone played along. Zacharias stood frozen, his jaw tight, while the two Golden Bank representatives shifted nervously, their forced smiles masking rising panic.

King Xerxes, watching from the edge of the hall, began to move. His boots echoed on the polished floor as he strode forward, torn between executing Niles on the spot or waiting until the crowd dispersed to make an example of him.

Undeterred by the palpable tension, Niles raised his goblet, his movements theatrical. “Our esteemed guests here—” he gestured broadly toward the Golden Bank representatives with a showman’s flourish “—are excusing themselves for the evening.”

The two men gave awkward, stilted waves to the crowd, their faces pale.

Niles’s grin stretched wider as he leaned in slightly, lowering his tone just enough to pull everyone further into his spell. “And as they leave, I do hope they’ve shared with you one little detail.” He paused, twirling the goblet in his hand with playful menace. “One teeny, tiny little detail...”

The room held its collective breath, the tension crackling like a drawn bowstring.

Then, with a sharp exhale, Niles thrust his hand outward, his voice booming with the authority of a ringmaster unveiling the evening’s main attraction. “THE GOLDEN BANK IS BROKE!”

The proclamation sliced through the silence like a blade. Gasps erupted from the crowd. The representatives flinched as though struck, their composure cracking in real-time.

King Xerxes stopped mid-stride, his expression darkening into something unholy. Niles, still high on the energy of his stunt, basked in the chaos he’d unleashed, his goblet raised in mock triumph.

“That’s preposterous!” the mustached representative from the Golden Bank bellowed, his indignation echoing through the grand hall. His colleague, equally ruffled, thrust an accusatory finger toward Niles. “You’re a liar!” he snapped.

Niles smiled, unfazed. Everything he had done up to this point was a gamble. But back on Earth, he’d learned one undeniable truth: banks never truly have the money they claim to. They lend beyond their means and live in fear of a collective withdrawal. It might be different in this world, sure—but judging by the representatives’ defensiveness, he had struck a nerve.

“So, you’re calling me a liar?” Niles asked, his grin widening.

“Absolutely!” barked the mustached man, his voice louder now, hoping to sway the murmuring crowd. And by the sound of it, the audience was leaning in their favor.

But Niles wasn’t done. Raising his goblet, he spoke above the din. “I’m sure everyone here is familiar with the King’s Gaze,” he said, gesturing toward Xerxes. “The eyes that see through any lie.”

The murmurs stilled, and all eyes shifted to the king. Xerxes, standing at a distance, absorbed the weight of the room’s attention. His simmering anger at the interruption gave way to a measured nod, a signal of his readiness to act. He began stepping forward.

The Golden Bank representatives turned pale, their composure cracking. Even Prince Zacharias’s expression faltered, his sharp eyes betraying a flicker of panic.

Someone’s canceling the King’s skill, Niles thought, recalling Xemena’s earlier suspicions. By the look on Zacharias’s face, he was well aware of it too.

Zacharias moved quickly, cutting in with his most authoritative voice. “Everyone, this is a fool’s game!” he announced, glaring daggers at Niles. “The summoned champion has had too much to drink and seeks only to stir chaos.”

He turned to the Golden Bank representatives with a bow. “Honored guests, I apologize for this disruption. Please, you are free to take your leave.”

The representatives nodded, eager to escape, and began making their way toward the exit.

“Wait.”

The low, commanding growl of King Xerxes halted them in their tracks. The air in the room seemed to thicken as all eyes turned to the king.

“To put this matter to rest before rumors spread,” Xerxes said, his voice a mixture of restraint and menace, “we will settle the truth here and now.”

“My king,” Zacharias interjected, his voice tinged with desperation, “there’s no need to indulge this farce. The words of this outworlder are nothing but—”

“Who are you to question my authority?” Xerxes cut him off, his tone sharp as steel. Zacharias bit his lip and lowered his gaze, stepping back in silent deference.

Xemena smirked at the sight, quietly savoring her former betrothed’s embarrassment.

“Continue,” Xerxes commanded, his piercing eyes fixed on Niles.

Niles exhaled, steadying himself under the king’s unrelenting gaze. “The Golden Bank is broke,” he declared boldly.

The room descended into stunned silence.

The king’s expression shifted from rage to bewilderment. “Impossible,” he muttered under his breath. But then, his gaze flickered, the unmistakable glow of his Veritas Gaze igniting in his eyes.

Xerxes’s voice rang out, a mix of disbelief and judgment. “The summoned one speaks the truth. The Golden Bank is…broke.” He turned his fiery gaze toward the trembling representatives. “Explain yourselves,” he demanded.

The mustached man stammered, sweat beading on his brow. “W-we can explain! There must be a mistake—”

“The Golden Bank would never run out of credit!” the taller representative insisted.

“Are you now doubting my skill?” Xerxes thundered, his voice like a lion’s roar. The words reverberated through the hall, making the two men visibly tremble.

Meanwhile, Xander, who had been subtly moving through the crowd, noticed Zacharias making small, frantic hand gestures. They were quick and precise, like someone smothering flames.

The mustached man caught sight of the gestures too, his face twisting in alarm. “What are you doing, Prince Zacharias? We’re still here! This wasn’t the plan!”

Zacharias’s eyes gleamed with a sinister yellow hue as he hissed one word: “Enough.”