Numisley had woken up from his nightmare with a scream.
“Keep it down!” One of the [Guards] yelled at Numisley and Cultrost.
“Hey. It’s just a dream.” Cultrost held Numisley before he fell down on the cold ground.
“Nightmare.” Numisley corrected. “Though I don’t remember anything.”
Cultrost grabbed a piece of half-eaten day-old bread one of the [Guards] tossed to them yesterday and idly munched it.
“I wonder how long we must stay here…” Cultrost mused.
“Until they decide to execute us, I suppose,” Numisley said.
“Let’s give it up.”
“You think they’ll free us even if we did give them the books?” Numisley rhetorically asked. “With what we already know, they will dispose of us when they deem us useless.”
Their conversation was cut short by a bevy of [Servants] beyond their cell’s bars, bearing wooden plates of steaming hot food to the cell next to them.
“Who’s in the next cell? All we get is half a loaf of bread for dinner.” Cultrost complained, jealous of the person in the cell next to them.
“Someone important.” Numisley guessed.
Cultrost sulked in the corner.
“You think we can get out of here somehow? I can’t use any of my Feats here. I bet if I had my mace, I could break the walls.”
“It’s a castle. The walls are already enchanted.”
“Let’s hope for Palden and the others to somehow save us. I’m sure that they would do the right thing.”
Numisley hoped that Cultrost’s words remained true in the uncountable days ahead. Their gamble of carving a place in this kingdom and claiming their father’s heritage had failed. But yet, there is one quality that both brothers share: a lesson that they learned from their father in the days when they played games of skirmsboard together; the game isn’t over as long as their objective is still on the board.
“I got an idea,” Numisley told his brother before turning to the wall where the next cell was.
“What are you eating, neighbor?” Numisley asked loudly, enough to bother the [Guards] watching the cell.
“You aren’t allowed to casually address a [Lord]. It is a violation of the Divine Decree, commoners.” One of the three [Guards] watching their cell spoke up, a man in a weathered white gambeson with a feathered helm.
The brothers now know who’s in the cell beside them. Numisley wickedly twisted his lips and sharpened his tongue for a verbal riposte.
“So who are you to defend a [Lord]’s honor? Aren’t you a commoner too? And why is such an important person behind bars? Did you jail him? By that logic, you are committing a sin, am I right?”
The feathered-helmeted [Guard] did not like his dogmatic belief turned against him.
“Filthy foreigners! Pagans! You know nothing!”
He pulled out the key to their cell and unlocked it. Cultrost saw a chance and tackled the [Guard] that Numisley provoked to the ground, pummeling his face with his fists. Numisley tried to stand up with his one good leg, heavily leaning on the cold stone wall. Without his walking stick, he can’t do much.
“Cultrost!” Numisley warned his brother about the two other [Guards] holding wooden truncheons. However, it was too late. They struck Cultrost’s back so hard that he collapsed on the ground. Cultrost yelped in pain as a crack appeared in one of his horns from the impact.
“Red-skinned devil!” The [Guard] that Cultrost tackled stood up and immediately kicked him in the stomach. The other [Guards] held Numisley down on the rough stone floor, forcing him to watch as his brother was stomped on repeatedly.
“Stop!”
Before this could go longer, a command interrupted them from the other cell.
“I will remove your pay if you continue further! Get them healing potions, bedrolls, and a warm meal!
The [Guards] reluctantly followed the command and headed upstairs to tell the [Servants] to fetch the things they needed. Soon, [Servants] had prepared them bedrolls, had fed them with a hastily cooked stew made from fish and unfamiliar root crops, and drank lower-grade healing potions to help them heal from their bruises.
Outside, the green-haired man from the neighboring cell is reprimanding the [Guards].
“My [Lord], Count Commerro said–”
“I will not exit this dungeon; yes, I know, Tireo!” Verrespadion cut the [Guard] who stomped Cultrost. “I’m visiting my neighbors in the other cell. About time I have some other people aside from you guys, at least.”
“But–”
“You have beaten a prisoner unnecessarily. This breaks the 35th rule of the Verses of Justice.”
“With all respects, my [Lord], the red-skinned devil attacked me first.”
“Do I hear a rebellious tone from you, Tireo?” Verrespadion’s words sizzled. “You had fallen to the provocation of a mere prisoner. Instead of unjustified violence, you should’ve answered with your own logic to prove your faith in the Divine Decree.”
The [Guard] went silent in fear of his [Lord].
“Tell Lormdegon to replace you. Now. You are dismissed.”
He briskly walked away and disappeared into the door that led to the rest of the castle.
“Apologies for the treatment one of the guards had given you.” Verrespadion apologized to the brothers.
“The Count should apologize for imprisoning us wrongly in the first place.” Numisley stared at the green-haired noble.
“I see your crime.” Verrespadion held a glowing hand with a sigil of nine halos. “You are guilty of murder, but I know there is more to that.”
“We didn’t have a choice.” Cultrost intruded. Verrespadion stared at him as if a fish suddenly gained the ability to speak. His [Detect Truth], one of his Feats of his Role, had determined that this Satyr was valid. External circumstances had forced them to commit a crime.
Cultrost told the entire story to Verrespadion: Numisley’s true heritage and their failed quest to claim their father’s money, which forced them to pillage the hamlet. Verrespadion learned that they were the [Traders] that his younger brother had told them about.
“So, you are the [Traders] that Racieros accompanied,” Verrespadion said, turning to Numisley. “And you are the rightful heir of the Naveirei, first of their blood. Hence, you are my equal.”
“You understand now? Your father has embarrassed me in front of the other nobility. He prevents me from undergoing the Ichoricon rite.” Numisley replied.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Because my House is a rival of the Naveirei. I do not condone my father’s actions. I do not condone the pointless bickering of both our Houses. You have a right to a fair trial first, and if you are proven innocent under the Divine Decree, I will be the first noble to back your right to the Ichoricon if what you have said is true.”
“So why don’t you order the [Guards] to free you?” Cultrost asked.
“They are under Feat-enforced, strict orders to keep me here,” Verrespadion answered. “I’m still a son of my father, after all. Yes, he can and had imprisoned [Traders] and commoners for little reason, but he wouldn’t do the same to me. I believe he has his reasons for keeping me here.”
After Verrespadion asked them about his little brother’s condition, he left them alone so that they could heal from their injuries.
-
Aryyad found himself yet again in the ship hidden and moored in the rarely seen docks of Est Provés. He sat before a miffed [Captain] with a silver leg gleaming in the moonlight.
“What gives you a reason for interrupting me? I’m in a hurry.” Johoon glared at the Rhundian [Merchant]. Both of their factions had shared the ports of Ovespuerte together, careful not to breach each other’s territory.
“Dear associate. I’m afraid you are planning to walk to your own death.”
Aryyad handed him the report that the [Informant] gave him. However, he didn’t understand the script written on it.
“The Count hired elites around his palace in anticipation of your arrival. A group of armed [Monks]. An adventurer party led by an exiled noble. [Assassins]. And a [Spearmaster] bearing the moniker of the Parting Tide.”
“I thought the Vanderan delegation is still in Iquelica?” Johoon remarked.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Aryyad replied. “But you know how fast people at his level are.”
“And I assume that with this information, you want something, correct? You would let me walk the plank if it benefits your Sultanate. And you have already curled your Feat around this conversation.”
At the beginning of the conversation, Aryyad had already activated one of his Feats. He gave a map of the coastal castle’s interior, with an encircled portion of where the dungeons are.
“Canny, as always. I do have a small favor to make. Free the persons named Numisley and Cultrost Gildin in the dungeon below the castle.”
“They sound like people from the Yokelaines.”
“They are from your home continent. They are my associates, and I would appreciate it if you free them.”
“As simple as that?”
“Would you rather have me mark up prices for Rhundian brass and Blast Horns?”
“No, no, of course not. What is it that you truly want, Rhundian?”
“Let’s just say that they are important assets for Rhundi.”
Johoon turned to his [First Mate], a tall man with a green bandana armed with two enchanted cutlasses.
“Get me my best [Marines] and [Hydromancers]. Tell the Scourge that I have a job for him.”
-
Count Torresso leaned on the railings of the lighthouse of his castle, staring at the countless stars and floating islands beyond the dim clouds. A [Mage] finished attuning himself toward the white mana crystal that hung below the cupola.
“Activate the beacon when I’m dead,” Torresso ordered.
“Dead, my [Lord]? Not when they attack?” The [Mage] asked about the deviation in the usual procedure.
“I do not want to summon armies for a false alarm. But I believe that I will win. So stay here.”
Torresso’s eyes swept down the white horizon of the night and saw the [Captain] of the Diamond Shore walking with his entourage.
“I will avenge you.” He whispered to himself as the last memories of his wife faded away to give way to his determination.
The foreign Dragonkin [Spearmaster] had climbed up the lighthouse’s gallery. It is time.
“He’s coming. Be prepared for any nasty tricks.” Torregorn spoke to Seklrex.
“Whatever he’s got, I’m sure he will not expect this. You will pay for your own damage, right?” The Dragonkin asked, just in case he would have to pay for the damages out of his own pocket.
“Of course, of course.”
The Count headed to the main audience hall below.
-
Minutes later, Johoon Silverleg now stands defiantly against the Contiearl of Ovespuerte in the greater audience hall of the castle. Johoon’s eyes drifted to the man wearing a doublet, standing guard with a halberd wrapped with parchment scrolls, and the rest of his party behind the [Lord]’s throne. Notably, there is a lack of his [Knights], the Household Guard of the Commerros.
“I see you have hired adventurers recently,” Johoon commented. He had left his entourage outside at the request of the Countiearl, but
“I have hired them for this occasion, Johoon.” Torresso told him a part of the truth.
“Seems like it.”
In Johoon’s mind, he knew that Aryyad was right. The Count is planning to kill him. Who knew that this cowardly [Count] had grown a spine? He tried to prepare a Feat or two, but somehow, they refused to activate.
The Count’s judging gaze remains unbroken. His Aura stills the air even as he sits there, poking at Johoon’s own for any weaknesses.
“I’ve come to make a decision about your proposal three moons ago,” Torresso spoke with a steady tone. “I have thought of a suitable deal for your proposal. A Signo Dato for 20% of your Dragon’s Dust imports from El-Mira.”
“T-twenty percent? You must be joking.”
“I’m not. I know Diamond Shore has a lot of connections to that continent’s Powder Guilds. My kingdom is always in need of Dragon’s Dust for our arquebuses, and I intend to supply for their demand.”
“Twenty percent is–”
“Unreasonable, I know. But what’s more unreasonable is a demand for a Signo Dato that will enable you line your profits across Torregorn’s shores. Unless you contribute to the kingdom, I will make sure that your merchant barges will sink in Ovespuerte’s waters before your blasted Corporation touches the scum of the docks.”
“The Admiralty will hear of this.”
“And I will make sure of that. [Emergency Spell: Chains of Draining].”
“[Ally: Guaranteed Hit].” Thel spoke as Johoon’s silver leg lit up, jumping away from the chains emerging from the pillars. Instead of the chains completely missing Johoon, they curved around to coil him tight.”
“Thank you for the buff. Take care of things from here.” Torresso saluted Thel, as he used his [Quick Escape] to run faster than he should’ve. He was having second thoughts if he should’ve told Verrespadion the truth; at least he could’ve helped him fight. But he knew that he couldn’t risk his first son like that. He still wished that he had the martial talent that his sons have.
Shockingly, Johoon didn’t get bound by the chains, instead, a rigid bubble of magic protected him from the chains, giving him space to move. The Feat that suppresses his combat-Feats had disappeared at the start of the battle. Before he could move, a spear pierced the stone roof of the hall, covering everything with a bursting plume of smoke and salt water as if a waterfall suddenly appeared through the hole.
Torresso disappeared in a secret corridor before he could get caught in the battle.
A Dragonkin [Spearmaster] locked blades with a [Captain] holding a dagger. The [Spearmaster] bounced with his spear off the dagger. Johoon threw a storm of throwing knives that the [Spearmaster] smoothly dodged, feeling the sparks imbued with each knife. This gave Johoon enough time to put the magical pipe that summons his signature Smoke Elemental. Yet Thel, with his wrapped halberd, slashed across the plume of smoke before it could form. [Marines] burst into the room, but Thel’s party rushed to hold them off. One of his [Mages] created a solid wall of earth to block their efforts to intervene. Thel turned around to attack Johoon with his ensorcelled polearm, but he was caught in the blast that collapsed the entire wall.
Outside the castle, a war started in the bailey. The [Marines] of Johoon’s entourage were ambushed by a volley of pistols from the [Knights]. Even the [Marines] who patrolled the harbor of Est Provés had been beset by wandering [Monks] armed with guns and clubs and staves of sea monster bone. The [Marines] found the abyssal [Monks] hard to fight, for after a volley of their arquebuses and pistols, they could instantly close the distance with their empowered bodies with clubs and fists.
The three ships moored at Est Provés had found themselves beset by bestial [Assassins] that sliced open [Sailors]’s throats and stabbed their vulnerable backs. Spell and steel clashed in the streets. Bullets, bolts, and arrows flew in the night, as Ovespuerte’s citizens hid within their homes in deep fright.