Lura always loved the early morning hours on ships. In these waters, it was when the winds were calmest, the sun the brightest, and the clouds the fewest. Since the world hadn’t reached the later seasons either, no fog stopped her eyes from looking many kilometers ahead.
It was beautiful.
“Coast is here!” Visk shouted from somewhere above her, making the other kobolds fall into a spree of action as they prepared for land. A little early, as they were still half an hour away from reaching Castilla's western port, but that was nothing new. The scaled merchants had a skittish nature that they never failed to present.
Not that such an instinct implied they were stupid. Lura knew for a fact that the kobolds were one of the most cunning races still present in this world. The desire for coins had forced their minds to evolve, and they had perfected the craft of wrangling every chip of gold out of people. If not for her two centuries of working beside the kobolds, Lura was sure they would’ve already snapped the rest of what she’d brought for this journey.
“Watching costs extra!” Kix exclaimed, poking Lura’s thigh with her clawed finger. “Pay!”
“Save the trickery for another trip,” Lura replied tiredly, the kobold captain not accepting that answer as she poked her again. “As per the agreement, I’m free to walk around the ship during my stay with the exception of the crew’s quarters. If you’re hoping to break that agreement and forego the agreed upon payment—”
“No! Agreement stays!” Kix cut in, the kobold shrinking back at the mere thought of losing a handful of gold coins. The amount was barely worth a thought to Lura, since she was just coming along for one of the kobold’s standard trips to the northern-eastern ports without food or assigned sleeping quarters, but the extra coin was a godsend for the forever-greedy kobolds. “Pay!”
“I’ll pay once we reach the dock.”
“Yes! You pay!”
Though a decade had been spent working herself out of the habit, Lura rolled her eyes at the words. The kobold’s merchant guild was the largest in the world, and the only one that voyaged to every section of it, but they could be so… irritating to deal with.
Someday, we’ll expand our own fleet.
It would require that the kobolds’ schematics would have to be bought since only their ships could handle the stress of the harsh waters, but that was an afterthought. If she gave it another century, Lura was confident she would find one of the scaled merchants willing to sell their secrets for one of the ancient statues.
They reached the harbor when the morning sun had risen further into the sky, and the humans of Castilla were out and about. Most of the dock workers hadn’t truly stopped moving through the night, but the city folk further inside were just starting their daily activities.
Though it would never match the greatness of the elven cities, this was… nice.
Moving through the busy streets, Lura found the inn that had been pointed out to her a month before in the messages. Just like the one in Serenova, it was the most expensive one around, with its overuse of expensive materials in a show of vanity. Very typical of the richer humans, though that was neither here nor there. She was trained to accept their flaws for the betterment of Ethon and that was what she would do.
Stepping into the entrance hall, it took less than five minutes before two familiar faces approached her.
“Welcome, Lura Fadan,” Ester greeted, offering her hand to Lura. She accepted it, as was customary. “I hope your journey here was without too many hardships.”
The Castillan diplomat had cut her brown hair a little shorter since the last time they’d met. Was it an attempt to hide the gray hairs just starting to show? Lura didn’t understand such a need, though it was a human trait to hide the effects of aging. That the woman had just entered her thirties a few years ago must’ve strengthened that habit.
“The waters were calm all the way from Ethon to here,” Lura assured her, not mentioning Serenova to the Castillan diplomat. There was no reason to aggravate them like that, which was why she’d likewise refrained from telling the prince from the day before about her future travel plans. “I hope I haven’t made the two of you wait here for long?”
“Oh, far from it!” Ester said with a polite laugh. That smile was almost more practiced than Lura’s own. “With Sven by my side, that problem isn’t one we need to consider.”
With the mention of the man, it was finally acceptable for Lura to look over at the Astral Mage and nod her head. Sven did the same, keeping silent but failing to hide that smidge of excitement on his face.
It’d been too long since they had the chance to meet. Not much had changed about the man, however. His blonde hair was still kept long, his green eyes looked as strong as ever, and that old farmer’s hat still sat firmly on his head. If not for Ester’s orders, Lura was sure the man would be wearing his old wool clothes. Instead, he wore the luxurious suit made of the thick silk that the western dungeon was known for producing in Castilla.
Just like the tattooed line around his neck, it didn’t fit him.
“Shall we?” Lura asked, motioning towards the hallway into the usual meeting room. Ester was quick to accept, the trio leaving the public eye and seating themselves in their normal seats. “Now, I must say that you were rather vague in the letter that you sent to me. Would you care to give more details about this ‘grand plan’ of yours?”
“Of course, though I do need to apologize for not being obvious about what the intention of this meeting was. With these things, it’s best to be discreet,” Ester said, Lura assuring her it was nothing of importance. “As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Mason Newell and his first son have passed, leaving his daughter to rule as Queen of Serenova.”
Our insiders revealed as much a day after the uproar in their capital.
“Yes, we heard the news a few weeks ago,” Lura replied, not revealing the truth about how far their roots had dug into Serenova. From what Castilla was told, Ethon had a minimal level of interactions with Serenova in recent years. There were still contracts to buy various materials harvested from their dungeon but those agreements had been written during the initial years of the country. “It was a tragic event for all involved.”
“A tragic event that grants opportunity,” Ester added with a smile. Lura knew what the diplomat was going to suggest right then and there. “Mason Newell was the cornerstone that kept Serenova together. While his daughter has been shown to be a formidable character in the public eye, she does not carry the same weight as her father. If we were to invade and reclaim what was taken from Castilla half a century ago, they wouldn’t be able to muster up enough of a resistance.”
Fools.
“Are you sure?” Lura asked, eyes narrowing. She made no indication she was against the idea. Merely wary of it.
“Very,” the Castillan diplomat assured her. “With the destruction and death of many of their older and experienced mages, the power they wield is at an all-time low. While they might be able to train and build up a new generation of Royal Mages in the next decade, their current defenses can’t match our offensive capabilities.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Against the total might of Castillia, Serenova had no chance, yes, but had the diplomat not heard about the Tarrasque? Even the old elven mages feared that creature and what it could do against magical constructs.
“This all sounds very fine, but you must also remember the agreements that we made with Serenova during its founding,” Lura reminded them. “If you attack, we have pledged to defend them.”
That agreement had been silently voided some years ago, but Castilla had no reason to know about that. And, honestly, Lura wanted to see how they would respond.
“Yes… that finicky thing had been holding us back,” Ester agreed, feigning sadness in her voice. That professional tone never truly disappeared. “But the reason that you made that pledge was for a small stake in the materials produced from Serenova’s dungeon. What if we offer Ethon more than that?”
Oh?
Now they were talking.
In the last five years, when Ester Sutton had fully fallen into the role of a Castilan diplomat, they’d made great strides in the two countries’ relationship. What was previously thought of as impossible to trade had become a rare event before finally becoming a common occurrence. Finer bottles and materials produced in Ethon were now sold in Castilla at great pricing and lacking taxation.
And that didn’t even start on their more obscure dealings. Lura never did get an answer on why Castilla needed the recipe for a mind-altering concoction of extreme strength that had no effect on elves among a slew of other seemingly random potion recipes when most of the required ingredients hadn't been seen on human lands for centuries.
“If you hope to make us ignore an invasion on our allies, I hope you have a very lucrative offer,” Lura warned. Such a blatant admission of wanting to bribe Ethon broke so many rules. While humans were not known for thinking too far ahead, they wouldn’t stoop this low without thinking that they could get away with it. “How large a stake?”
“We’re willing to give you half of all materials harvested from the dungeon.”
…
If Lura had been holding the customary glass of wine at that moment, she would’ve dropped it.
“This… offer. Has it been approved by your superiors?”
A quarter of all profits wouldn’t have been surprising but to outright offer half?
“It took a month of discussion, but I made them understand that Ethon was worth the price,” Ester smoothly explained, smiling brightly as she brought out a rough document detailing their obligations. “It would come at the cost of Ethon having a minimal influence around the dungeon itself, but we are willing to grant you a significant portion of the western tip for the breweries you’ve mentioned during previous discussions.”
Just like she’d said, Castilla was giving it all to them on a silver platter. Several forests that would make it possible to expand their distilling industry, prime control over the areas surrounding these forests, and a three-century agreement that could be extended at an agreed-upon price.
Lura knew she would have to haggle to increase the amount of interaction her people were allowed to have with the dungeon, but otherwise… This was too good to refuse.
Yet it was likewise too good to accept. If Castilla was this desperate to have their cooperation, Lura knew she could slice off more for Ethon.
By the end of this, she would make her king proud.
“What do your advisors say your window of opportunity for launching an attack is?” Lura asked, to which Ester kept silent. “An offer like this… I will need to discuss it with my king and his royal council. While I admit that this is very enticing, it will take time for Ethon to accept a proposal like this.”
“Well… I can’t reveal the exact window that we are working under, but I would not mind an answer within, say, half a year,” Ester replied. “This operation is a very sensitive one, that we have spent the past years preparing for. Delaying it is too large a risk.”
Years of preparation? Lura hadn’t heard much about that, outside of possible agreement for Ethon’s expansion if Castilla was to retake Serenova. Had their army grown or had they found another artifact to equip their most powerful mages with? If they had something to match that sword of thunder, Serenova would be right to fear the oncoming invasion.
“I understand,” Lura finally said. “Once night arrives, I’ll be returning to Ethon to deliver this proposal to my king in person. While I cannot promise haste from my brethren, I’ll do my best to accelerate the process.”
“That is all I can ask for,” Ester responded, rising from her seat and bowing. Lura did the same, before folding the document and putting it into her bag. “I have to report this meeting to my superiors. Sven, how about you keep Lura company in the meantime? It wouldn't do to leave a diplomat without a guard for the entire day.”
Lura did not need a bodyguard and all three knew it. Regardless, she quickly accepted the idea, Sven following her out of the inn without uttering a word.
Neither did he say anything at all while they walked through the streets. His smile was wide, and his eyes were excited, it was only when they left the city and entered the open grass hills that he spoke.
“I’ve missed you!” Sven exclaimed, quick to hug Lura the second they stopped walking. “It’s been so boring without you here.”
“You’ve been able to survive these lands without me for over twenty years, Sven. A few months between visits won’t kill you,” Lura fired back, accepting the hug wholeheartedly. Even when she was over a head taller than the human, it felt right to embrace him. “And for somebody that can look into the astral realm, I don’t see how you could be bored of all things.”
“You think it’s interesting because you haven’t spent ten years having to escort people around in there,” the man was quick to refute. “I don’t even get to see the forest anymore. It’s just been constant meetings in the capital.”
I should’ve known.
In her many years of working as Ethon’s diplomat, Sven Bock was the most interesting human she’d met. Initially, it’d been curiosity about his Astral Affinity, one of the rarest variants a Mage could get. His casual distaste for it in favor of enjoying nature was what had hooked her. While he had still spent years at the academy to practice his gifts and had attained a decent grasp on the Astral magics, it was a means to an end.
He didn’t take the job of assistant to serve his country but to save money for a little house somewhere peaceful. Sven had never truly decided on where that was supposed to be, but the list of requirements had been repeated many times through the years.
Close to nature, able to fit a garden, away from the masses, and hopefully with a lake nearby.
Lura could do nothing but respect that way of living.
“Well, I have a gift to hopefully improve that dour mood of yours,” Lura mentioned, searching through her back for the pot she’d brought along from Ethon. “I know how you’ve been searching for something to complete your line of fruits.”
“Oh, no, Lura, you didn’t,” Sven said, wide-eyed as she pulled out the small sapling. It was still in the early stages of growth, able to be moved for another decade before its size and roots became a problem. “I can’t recognize the petals. What is this?”
“A young Iricident Pear tree,” she explained, his eyes only growing wider. “They’re naturally found in our enclaves, but proper care will allow them to grow in orangeries on Castilla as well. When you find the place you wish to settle down, this tree will be ready to grow."
If contained in a smaller pot, it could still be handled easily for another decade.
“Right… thanks,” Sven said, checking the health of the plant for another minute before packing it away in his expanded bag and letting it join the others. “I guess that means the chances of settling down in Ethon are nil?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Lura replied, settling down on the grass next to the man. “It’s just a very complex topic. To bring a human within our borders hasn’t happened in many years. I might be able to have something arranged by the time your retirement comes around, but the king can be stubborn when it comes to this.”
“What a shame,” he muttered. He leaned into the side, his head falling onto her shoulder. “I was hoping to plant it somewhere you could easily visit. Wouldn’t want to have a garden with only me to see it grow.”
…
Lura was not ignorant of what he felt. She just knew she couldn’t respond in kind. The difference of lives between an elf and a human… It was akin to a human and a dog. To come together and have so many years left after their end wouldn’t do any good for either of them.
“I’ll ask about your possible residence again when I return to Ethon,” she lied, wrapping an arm around the man and pulling them both down into the grass. “For now, how about you tell me how it’s been since I last visited? I’d love to know what you’ve been up to.”
Her duties came before everything else.