Inside the nobles' quarters, every street was wide enough to accompany the most luxurious carts passing each other and still give enough space for patrolling soldiers to walk between them. The buildings were made of the most beautiful stones, polished to perfection, painted to their owners' desires, and decorated with solid gold motifs and statutes from top to bottom. Yet, behind the beauty laid the ugliest part of the city, hiding more gruesome murders and backstabbings than the slums in Greyback. There was a saying amongst the nobles living here: The only person you can trust is the one looking back at you from the mirror.
However, what happened only a few moments ago was something that counted as rare even amongst nobles. When blood was shed so openly on the white-stoned streets, it was because someone mighty wanted to send a message. A declaration. It was time for war...
Right at the corner that would turn the main road southbound and then head straight towards the Kustov family's courtyard, a luxurious carriage was on its sides, the horses filled with arrows, looking like porcupines, painting the roads red. They were not the only ones who were massacred as the ten men; Milan Kustov's armored guards were also ruined, their bodies impaled by dozens of crossbow bolts, piercing their chest plates and helmets with ease.
Those who saw the ambush knew not to interfere, or they may end up in something that could quickly burn down their whole families. This... this open massacre was no longer a game between greedy nobles. The crest on the carriage told everyone that it was of the Kustov family, and being accompanied by so many guards, it was evident that someone significant was sitting inside the now-destroyed carriage. This was a Duke-on-Duke affair. As for whether they survived or not, nobody dared to go and take a look, but the fact that nobody came out of it was telling.
When reinforcements arrived and noticed the carriage, filled with holes and the marks of the bolts that went straight through while others were stuck to its frame, the arriving captain quickly realized that whoever attacked used military-grade crossbows. Some of the bolts were designed to impale not only heavily armored knights but also to penetrate through multiple of them. There was no time to look for clues or ask for witnesses as he was heading straight to the carriage, tearing off the destroyed door, praying that the son of his Lord was still alive... somehow.
"They attacked from every angle..." He whispered, leaning in, seeing the unmoving body before him, which was bleeding profusely. He already memorized the direction of the bolts sticking out of the bodies littering the ground, reconstructing their trajectory, pointing towards the rooftops they attacked from. They completely surrounded their caravan from all directions, but he didn't have time to think further about it. He had to get Milan back to the Kustovs' residence as soon as possible. "Gods..."
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"WHAT?!" Mirian shouted, her magical powers activating without thinking about it. The resulting formation of a pure black color drained the contrast from everything around her like a black hole, turning the world into a colorless reality for whoever looked at her.
"D-duke Kustov's caravan was massacred on the streets... My Empress..." her simple servant repeated, one of many nameless individuals who was tasked with keeping an eye on the events within the city.
"Who was in the carriage?" she asked, standing while the black formation continued expanding behind her. The color gradually disappeared from the room, frightening the servant to death as everything went silent, and he could only hear his Empress's voice.
"It was Milan Kustov, heading home from a meeting when cloaked figures, thirty-five in total, appeared and attacked. It lasted only ten seconds, and after they were done, they immediately escaped. They were using military-grade crossbow bolts of pure steel along with a dozen repeating crossbows. The type we developed to deal with enemy knights. No survivors."
"What did you say...?" She whispered, and even through the colorless, noiseless world, the servant could feel the palace beginning to shake.
"No survivors... I... I watched as the arriving reinforcements pulled out Milan Kustov's body from the–"
"Did you check that he was dead? Or you just think he was dead?"
"I... I didn't get close; you ordered us to only-"
"Get out of my sight! Or I will kill you where you stand!" She sneered, making the servant scramble on all fours, leaving behind a puddle of piss while escaping.
As it was happening, down below the castle, Pascal was jolted out of his studies of ancient texts, making him furrow his brows. The feeling he was assaulted with was not coming from up above him but from...
"The Spear?!" he yelled, shooting to his feet and heading to the sanctum, a shrine built to the glory of the God of Death, Ariana. Their own Empress of Death commissioned it thousands of years ago, and it was the holy home of the Spear of Death.
The Relic of a God... Said to be the most deadly of them all. Pascal wielded it multiple times, but it never reacted like this. It was a simple, ordinary-looking spear that would be lost amongst any others if placed in an old blacksmith's workshop... yet, right now, it was surrounded by a black mist, twirling around it, giving off ominous feelings that scared even the old Emperor. He didn't dare touch it, but at that moment, he knew someone had awoken the Relic and that someone was recognized by it and was deemed worthy to wield it with its full powers at their disposal.
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"My Lord, a carriage has arrived!" Barnabas, the Kustov family's butler and leading advisor, rushed in once again, making the distraught family head look at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Who?"
"The Royal family…" He whimpered, making Kustov's body stiffen and hurry out in haste. While Barnabas thought it was because of the importance of the ruling bloodline, Kustov simply thought if anybody could save his son's life right now, it was them… and he was determined to use them.
"Where is he?" Mirian asked, without waiting for Duke Kustov to bow or greet her as she burst forth from her carriage. "I must see his body."
"He is in his room, Your Highness, this way!" He answered promptly, surprising many who were looking on as both parties were totally ignoring any kind of protocol.
"He lives?" She questioned, her voice quivering a little as their steps became even more hurried.
"Barely…"
"Lead me to him! You!" She turned towards her guards, "Stay, and don't let anyone enter!" Even if her personal guards wanted to object, there was no way they could go against her orders while she disappeared inside the Kustov family's residence.
Garbank wasn't overexaggerating. When Milan was returned to the residence, he was barely able to breathe. His right arm was blown off from the elbow as one of the arrows not only went through it cleanly but broke it off, tearing muscles and skin apart before exiting at the other end of the carriage. To Milan's luck, the other two arrows that pierced his body, one at his left thigh and the other at his abdomen, were regular ones.
"He is unconscious for now. My healers have removed the arrows, but he lost a lot of blood…"
"I have already sent for a healing mage." She interrupted him, entering the room first, drawing a deep breath when seeing Milan lying on the bed, in the process of getting bandaged, his wounds barely finished being stitched together.
"Our family will be forever in your debt, My Empress."
"Was it Duke Jauwn?" she asked, ignoring him as she walked closer to the bed. For a brief moment, her eyes softened as she gently put her hand on Milan's head, stroking his still messy, blood-soaked hair.
"Yes," Garbank Kustov answered firmly, explaining so that Mirian wouldn't think of him as a liar. "We have no proof, though, and he would deny it. Even if we say that the arrowheads were crafted from the same metal, he is in charge of manufacturing. Even if the crossbows used were his family's invention, all of these can't prove their involvement, as anyone wealthy enough could get them, too."
"We all know it was them." Mirian whispered, lifting her hand and watching it being stained in blood. "None of us idiots here. This transgression will be retaliated in full!"
“…”
"After we secure Milan's life, that is. He is first, politics for second, and revenge for third… I always leave the sweetest part for last."
Mirian's calm front didn't last long, though, not when one of her servants arrived with the news that no healing mage would be sent over. The rage she was holding down made Kustov shiver, feeling it in his soul and causing him to experience a drop in temperature as if a blizzard had arrived from nowhere.
"I'll be back." She whispered, hurrying out, leaving her soldiers behind to protect the residence while she traveled back to the palace, heading straight to the one and only person who could have stopped her order from going through.
"You did enough." Pascal said right when Mirian pushed in the heavy door to his underground library. "There needs to be a balance. The Kustov family was hoisted high enough; the other lineages are now becoming restless. They need to be leveled out, and this will help them reach equilibrium." As he spoke, Mirian felt like she had already heard the same speech coming from his mouth, as if he had repeated it millions of times, doing it once again from reflex, without even looking at her. "You will smooth things out after the Kustovs retaliated for their heir's death, and that will be the end of it."
"He is not dead yet."
"Resilient. Too bad, he will have a long, agonizing death then."
"Why was my order revoked?"
"You are meddling too much! You are still green… I am helping you to learn about how the nobles worked in this Empire for generations. You will find a different husband, and there will be many more to come after you get bored of the first one. Let it go."
“…”
"Let. It. Go." He repeated, looking over his shoulders, watching Mirian's cold expression, gazing into her eyes before she finally turned around without saying anything, leaving his library.
"Kids… Hmph… Now, let's see…" He mumbled, flipping an ancient codex, and continued looking up information about the Spear of Death that returned to slumber once again.
Back at the Kustov residence, Mirian appeared after the sun had set, meeting Garbank in his office, but only the two of them were present in this 'secret' meeting. Her stern face and the fact that she returned without the healer she promised were troubling enough.
"The old bastard is still more powerful than me, holding sway over the mages, and it seems like he wants my Milly dead." She began speaking while working tirelessly to keep her anger pushed down and under control. "We need an alternative solution. You have been funneling resources and influence towards the Frontier. Is there a chance that…"
"Yes." Kustov answered, even though he didn't know why. His love for his family, his son, and his Sovereign all coalesced into something greater at that moment, making him trust that, if anything, his Sovereign could save Milan just as he saved him. "But… I don't know if my son would survive the trip. Not in his current condition."
"What if we fly?" She asked, standing up, leaning over the table, looking deeply into Kustov's eyes. "I don't care what you are hiding there. I will take my Milly to the Frontier with or without you… He matters; nothing else does."
"Empress…" Kustov shivered because he had just realized that this could turn out to be a horrible decision, one that he had made possible by a simple answer of yes.
"You either come with me or don't. But if you try to stop me, I'll kill you, even if you are my father-in-law. Nobody, not you, not Pascal, not even the Six Gods, can get between me and Milly! I will steal his soul from the hands of Death if I must…"