Hector arrived with his father half an hour later. They were both dressed finely—exquisite silk cloaks, woven leather belts adorned with gleaming gold, and so on. However, they were smudged in blood and gore. Lady Sefica scowled, a deep frown on her face. Hector’s father, Lord Daniel, was as sullen as always, with his somber brown eyes and greyed stubble. He shrugged at his wife. “It was a dirty fight,” he grumbled.

She sighed, walking to him. “Alright. You could’ve cleaned yourselves, though. We have guests.”

Hector raised his arms, glancing down at the state of his clothes, and then his eyes fell on Ethan and Roland. “Oh? What are you guys doing here?” said Hector.

“Hector, good to see you.” Ethan nodded, glancing briefly at Daniel. Daniel merely nodded in acknowledgment.

“I hope you had an easy journey.” Hector flashed a smile, shaking the mud off his clothes, earning another glare from Lady Sefica. “We’ve been busy clearing things up in Corinth.”

“The aftermath of the dungeon incursion?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah,” Hector said. “Now, my apologies, Theodore, but I must clean up.”

“We need to talk, Hector. I have a proposition. Meet us as soon as you’re finished.”

***

Roland fidgeted with the hilt of his sword, a nervous habit he thought he’d long broken. The air in the opulent sitting room hung thick with tension (or maybe that was just his imagination)—and he had to admit, it was far too contrasting for him compared to the cheerful small talk he’d just shared with Lady Sefica. Lord Theodore was planning something, and he didn’t know what. Lord Theodore had been acting strangely for so long now. First, he turned over a new leaf, which was shocking enough, but then suddenly started caring about his barony and the looming tax collectors. The shock and disbelief hadn’t quite settled, though. To make sure that he paid off his debt and tax, Lord Theodore dabbled into something Roland hadn’t ever considered Theodore dabbling into: soap-making. The thought alone felt... off. Roland’s life recently had been shocks after shocks—so much so that he’d gotten used to it and was on the lookout for the next shock he’d feel. First, Lord Theodore made soap, which somehow was also a remedy for the Blight, and then he started changing more and more. He became a [Mage]—gained power, asked for books (something Lord Theodore would’ve never done before), and heck, he got a former Red Tower member to be his mentor—though it was a different matter entirely how Derrick had yet to return. Lord Theodore had changed so much that Roland had been debating whether he’d been taken over by some evil spirit.

But then again, Lord Theodore had done nothing... evil.

The strange thing was, Lord Theodore had done so much good in the short span of time he’d changed than he’d done his whole life—so much so that Roland wondered if it was an evil spirit or not. Not to mention all that strange knowledge... Just how exactly did Lord Theodore learn soap-making? How did he make it better than everyone else?

Roland felt as though nothing could shock him anymore. But he was wrong, it seemed. When the door finally creaked open and Hector walked in, Roland straightened, heart pounding in his chest. He’d never liked the scumbag. He’d never liked any of them—Lord Theodore and Hector. Both were scum. Hector was a step above. Roland would even go so far as saying that it was Hector who’d influenced Lord Theodore into becoming what he did. Regardless, Roland stood alert, face impassive. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted an unreadable smile playing on Lord Theodore’s lips. Just what are you planning? Roland wondered. Lord Theodore had only mentioned that it was regarding soap’s mass production. Nothing else.

“Thank you for seeing me again, Lord Hector,” Lord Theodore said as Hector sat across him, his voice smooth as butter.

“Now then, what brings you to Corinth?” Lord Hector asked.

Lord Theodore leaned forward. “Business. Very lucrative business.”

“I believe you have a proposition for me, Lord Theodore,” Lord Hector asked.

Lord Theodore leaned forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Indeed, Hector. You see, I’ve been thinking about expanding my soap business. It would be quite profitable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lord Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Soap? This is what you dragged me here for?”

“Not just soap, Hector. Imagine a whole line of bath products. Lotions, perhaps? Shampoos? The possibilities are endless.”

“What are those? And where do I come into this?”

“Investment, Hector. You could be a major investor. We require capital to truly get this venture off the ground. In return, you would become a major shareholder. Imagine the profits we could generate together.”

Lord Theodore spoke of a new venture: producing soap on a large scale. But for that, he needed investors, one such man being Hector. Hector listened, his expression shifting between skepticism and thinly veiled disdain. Then, just as Roland thought they might reach an accord, Hector leaned forward, sneering. “Or I could simply take it from you. What could a powerless little baron do against Corinth? I’m pretty sure the nobles and even the crown would be happy if I got rid of you.”

Yeah, they were friends, alright—friends that had grown apart due to mutual disdain. Roland could attribute it to the possibility of them both seeing each other in one another. So much so that it pissed them off.

A flicker of something dark crossed Lord Theodore’s face, so fleeting Roland almost missed it. Then, with a sigh that spoke volumes, Lord Theodore reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pouch. “Well, first off—I am no little baron, punk. And we both know we’re no friends. So I’ll be blunt.”

Hector blinked, shocked. “Wha—”

“I’m the son of Lord Alexander Lockheart, King of Obsidian, and you will show me the respect that is owed.” Lord Theodore said.

Silence. A silence that rang in Roland’s ears as loud as church bells.

“Wh... what do you mean?” said Lord Hector.

Lord Theodore smiled. “No time for that.” Then, Lord Theodore put the pouch on the table. “In there is... what to say? Evidence? Of the things you would want kept hidden.”

“What’s that supposed to be? A magic trick?” Hector snorted and sifted through the pouch. He pulled out a small bead, etched in them were moving pictures of Hector engaging in unspeakable acts, things no noble would approve of—fucking a woman. A prostitute. There was more evidence, a collection of things Hector appeared to be ashamed of, his whole life sealed within. “This...” Hector paled, his voice cracking, sweat dripping down his temple. “This is conjured! How dare you?!” Hector’s face went pale, the sneer melting away like snow in the midday sun. “What are you trying to do, Theodore…? We were friends, damnit! How could you...?” he stammered, but the question died in his throat.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Friends? Hmm, I recall you saying something along the lines of getting rid of me.”

Roland’s breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t the Lord Theodore he knew. Or was it? No. Absolutely not. This was… different. Cold. Calculating. A shiver ran down his spine despite the warmth of the fireplace. Yet, amidst the unease, a sliver of morbid curiosity bloomed. What secrets did Lord Theodore hold? And how far was Lord Theodore willing to go to get what he wanted?

Lord Hector slammed his fist on the table, the pouch with the evidence scattering beads across the polished wood. “This is blackmail! You can’t do this to me, Theodore! We were friends!”

“Friends who exploit friends, it seems. Not a first, eh?”

Lord Hector’s voice rose in desperation. “This... this is nothing! Lies! Fabrications! You can’t prove any of it!”

Lord Theodore leaned back. “Perhaps not in court. But amongst the nobility? A whisper here, a rumor there... can ruin a reputation faster than a plague.”

Lord Hector sank back in his chair, his face pale, eyes vacant, pupils trembling. “What do you want? Money? Power? Women? I can get you the most exquisite ones! Fresh imports for the season! Exotic. Docile. Felines! Or maybe you’d fancy a strong virgin Siren. Perhaps even a highborn Kitsune—”

Before Hector could continue, Lord Theodore’s hand slammed into his face. The thump echoed in the tense silence of the room before Lord Theodore slammed the man’s head into the table. “Silence, you degenerate fool!”

How? How could Lord Theodore overpower him? Hector should be stronger! Why’s Lord Hector acting strange? It’s almost like he’s lost it; he’s like a child who can’t control his emotions.

Hector recoiled with a whimper, clutching his stinging cheek. The smile was wiped clean, replaced by a mask of fear. Lord Theodore loomed over the man. “You will not speak of such things in front of me. Control yourself, Hector, or I will ensure your exotic tastes become public knowledge. And believe me,” he leaned in, voice dropping to a chilling whisper, “the rumors will be far more exotic than anything you could ever purchase.”

“I can give you anything! Just don’t... don’t let anyone know. Don’t take her away from me!”

Roland watched; jaw clenched. Why did he care about that woman so much? Lord Hector was a noble, a run-of-the-mill young master. Why would he care about getting some prostitute pregnant? In this world, the normal practice would’ve been to get her killed; in fact, Roland was surprised she was still alive, even. From Lord Hector’s reaction, the man wasn’t planning on killing her, either. Why? What’s going on? Does Lord Hector love the woman? Impossible. How could that be? But then again... If Lord Theodore could change for the better, why couldn’t Lord Hector fall in love with some wench after getting a taste of her and (apparently) getting addicted?

It doesn’t make sense. Unless... I’m missing something.

Lord Theodore steepled his fingers, his gaze unrelenting. “Let’s not be hasty, Hector. This soap... it has potential. Your investment would be most welcome.”

“Investment? You think after this... I’d trust you with a single coin?”

Chuckling humorlessly, Lord Theodore shook his head. “Trust isn’t part of the equation, Hector. You either do it, or you don’t. We both know what happens if you deny or try to play games.”

“There has to be another way!” Hector’s eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal. “We can forget this ever happened! I’ll disappear, move to another province... anything!”

Lord Theodore shook his head. “Nothing that dramatic. Just be a good boy and sign an [Oath]. Invest, earn, and live a comfortable life with your girlfriend.”

“You want me to sign an [Oath]?! Are you crazy? You want to bind me to you?”

Lord Theodore shrugged. The next few minutes were a blur of hushed threats from Lord Hector, then anger contorted his face as he sputtered accusations—accusations that quickly dissolved into fear as the gravity of his situation (apparently) sunk in. Lord Hector was pale, sweating. He bargained, he pleaded for a way out, but when Lord Theodore didn’t budge, a crushing despair seemed to settle over him. Acceptance.

Hector’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no other way out, is there?” Finally, with a defeated slump of his shoulders, Hector reached for the document Lord Theodore offered. His hand trembled slightly as he scrawled his signature across the parchment. He’d just signed an [Oath].

“Excellent. This will be quite profitable, I assure you.” He placed a copy of the document in his pouch before turning to leave. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Lord Hector. And please refrain from fucking wenches. You should be a respectable noble, not some inferior man that can’t keep his dick in his pants.” With that, Theodore turned to Roland, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “Let’s be on our way, Roland. We have work to do.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Roland murmured, following Lord Theodore and ignoring the chill settling over him. There was something more behind the threat—Lord Theodore had something bigger up his sleeve.

With that, they left the room, leaving a fuming Hector behind. As the heavy door slammed shut, Roland could hear the sound of furniture being violently shoved over. A low growl emanated from the room, then a curse, followed by some more.

It was then, as Roland looked ahead at Lord Theodore, the man’s demeanor changed. His grin vanished, his eyes drooped, and he sighed. “Well, wasn’t that something?”

Now that was the Lord Theodore Roland had grown accustomed to in the last week or so.

“Was that wise, my lord?”

“Oh? Yeah. Hector didn’t just have fun with her, he knocked her up; as in, she’s pregnant with a spawn of Hector, that prick.” Lord Theodore shrugged. Putting the pieces together, Roland couldn’t help but agree that it would be fine.

“But why didn’t he just get her killed? Would he not do that now? Now that he’s being, well, blackmailed? I doubt he loves her.”

“Oh, extremely unlikely.” Lord Theodore smiled slyly. “You see, that’s no ordinary woman.”

“Huh? What do you mean, my lord?”

“It’s a succubus.”

“Gods,” Roland hissed under his breath. A succubus. It all made sense. Why would Lord Hector not kill her? He couldn’t. The man was bewitched. Succubuses were known for their ability to drain lifeforce of anyone they fucked—and they could manipulate them with the use of mind control. That alone wasn’t it, either. From what Roland knew, succubuses were addicting—like a drug. Once a man had sex with one, it was easy to keep him coming back. Easy to manipulate. No wonder Lord Hector looked and acted like that. No wonder he wouldn’t get her killed and even be used by Lord Theodore.

“Yup,” said Lord Theodore. “Never stick in crazy. It never ends well for anyone involved. Look at what happened to him.” He chuckled and shook his head as he turned to walk away. “She’s nearly turned him into a husk. Such emotional immaturity. Such lack of self-control. Shouldn’t take more time. Maybe a year? You noticed how he got all frantic and started shouting to not take her away from him? How he was acting. And how I could overpower him even though he should be stronger? What do you think that was? The bastard’s gone crazy. Not only addicted to her like a drug, she’s got him wrapped around her fingers. He got frantic just at the thought of his drug being taken away. Just the thought of withdrawal has such an effect on him—so much that he couldn’t think straight and signed an [Oath]. I wouldn’t be surprised if his mind’s broken already. Oh well. Whatever.”

A succubus had turned a noble into her servant, her slave.

“What’s a succubus doing here, my lord?”

“Oh, she’s likely someone that got captured and brought here from the other continent along with some other Beastkin. Likely when she was a child. I... wouldn’t be shocked if she hates humans. She’s likely using Hector—might be planning on getting married and then letting him die off so she could rule Corinth. Perhaps she wants enough power to get revenge on someone? Or it could be something else entirely. Regardless, it wouldn’t be the first time I hear of something like that.”

Roland realized what Lord Theodore meant, and when he did so, his shoulders sagged. Humans can be such scum sometimes... He knew he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for a succubus, but he was feeling pity for the little girl she’d been when she was brought here.

“Regardless,” Lord Theodore said, catching Roland’s attention. “If Hector’s smart, he’ll come around. If not? Eh.” Lord Theodore looked back at him over his shoulders. “Let the cunt ruin his own name and get sucked dry by a succubus, see if I care.” Lord Theodore continued his path and strode off to the carriage. “Come on now, we’ve got more people to go through.”