Ovespuerte was without its [Count], a city without its leader. A grand portion of its Household Guard was strewn around the castle. The docks were filled with [Marines] who cleaned the evidence of their transgressions, dumping bodies in the port’s scummy waters. The citizens of Ovespuerte demanded answers to the chaos of yesternight, protesting against the various militiamen and [Mercenaries] who now roam the streets. The councils of the various districts find themselves confused as they hear the news of the election of a new [Guildmaster] of the city’s Merchant’s Guild amidst the chaos. Aryyad assured his fellow [Merchants] that they were safe from the brigands who roam the port and the nobles coming to the city.

The remnants of the Household Guard find themselves trapped in their [Lord]’s castle, surrounded by Johoon’s men. The [Guard Captain] faced off against the silver-legged [Privateer], who kicked a chest of gold coins towards them. Glimmering gold tinkled on the stony ground, catching the hesitant gazes of the [Knights] and junior members of the Household Guard.

“If you all keep the matter a secret, all of these could be yours.” Johoon declared, kicking a couple of coins strewn on the floor. “Or we will all die here.”

The [Guard Captain] knew what he meant by that. So he accepted the offer. The remaining Household Guard had no choice but to follow their leader. To cover their treachery, they had to keep the peace to maintain the illusion of authority. Even if the [Count] was dead.

The remaining [Mage] of the castle that Johoon found atop the lighthouse has been ordered by Johoon to send a [Message] to the last remaining scion of the Commerro House.

-

"Remember what we talked about," Numisley whispered to Cultrost as they saw Aryyad entering the warehouse alone. Many of their employees were still helping around in Aryyad's company even after Numisley and Cultrost were freed.

“Tell me, friend. What’s going on?” Numisley spoke first. He stood straight despite being paler than yesterday.

Aryyad dusted his crimson robes, gilded with gold-threaded trim. There is no point in hiding their blatant takeover of the port, the county capital of the Commerros.

“My associate, the [Captain] of the Diamond Shore, had killed two nobles of the Commerro House. Essentially, he had taken over the city. With the lighthouse beacon being lit yesterday, I agreed with him earlier that I would help him cover up this mess, and I need you two for that.”

“Us?” Cultrost blurted.

“Me?” Numisley mouthed.

“Palden.” Aryyad clarified. “He is the only one of your men, no, even in this warehouse, that could feasibly ride to wherever the second son of the Commerros is.”

“You mean, Racieros.” Cultrost spoke up.

“Racieros Commerro, yes.” Aryyad confirmed. “We need him to be in this city before the collective army of the southern nobility comes here.”

Assisting them would be an act of treachery, an act that could be used against him when Numisley comes to claim the Ichoricon. They heard of the Diamond Shore back home and that they were a Great Corporation that ruled the coastal lands and the seas. Yet they were desperate. Both brothers agreed they could join Aryyad in a joint venture to avoid running out of money. Numisley can see that many of the [Merchants] on the port had sailed away during the chaos.

Both brothers knew that this was a gambit with high stakes. With an intent glance, both have an inkling of what each other is thinking.

“Is this why you wanted us to work with you?” Numisley asked Aryyad.

“Not initially, no. I see your–both of your talents as [Traders]. Ideally, I wouldn’t had to ask you this. I dearly wanted to help you two as a fellow foreigner. This is only a plan we made on the spot when we saw that lighthouse light up.”

Aryyad’s silver tongue had tickled the brother’s ears. Cultrost nudged Numisley, almost making him tumble, and Numisley smacked his brother’s leg with his walking stick. Immediately, they gave their final answer.

“We’ll work with you,” Cultrost spoke.

“But we’ll set the terms. We’ll work with you and not under you.” Numisley made it clear. “Merchant’s Courtesy.”

“I’m not familiar with the term,” Aryyad admitted.

“It’s just a saying back home that a trading partnership should be equal,” Numisley informed. He drew a contract from his robes that he wrote as soon as they got in the inn.

Aryyad sensed the ominous aura of the contract. The ink seems to be scented with iron, a steely pang of blood. Yet he avoided making a scene out of it. With his experience reading contracts from nobles and fellow [Merchants] alike, he read the cursive Torregornian script.

The terms are reasonable, even if slightly disadvantageous for Aryyad: 40% of the total profits for joint-venture and their independence in their operations, mainly. But he allowed these concessions in the interests of intimate cooperation in the future.

Aryyad signed the contract and was prepared to break it if needed. Yet a tug pulled his very blood for a moment, a sensation that permeated his entire body and disappeared when he sensed it.

“Excellent.” Aryyad hid his true expression behind a cautious smile.

“How much can you pay us for employing Palden?” Numisley asked.

“Ten gold.”

“Make it fifteen.”

“I’ll use a Scroll of Haste.” Aryyad showed them a magic scroll containing the spell.

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“Ten then.” Numisley acquiesced.

“Palden!” Cultrost called their [Wagon Driver]. “Tell Racieros that….”

-

After Cultrost gave detailed instructions to Palden and gave him the letter, the brothers returned to the inn that Aryyad paid for. They didn’t speak until they were in the rooms and closed the curtains.

“Man, I wish we knew magic,” Numisley recalled their father’s soundproofed office. “If we can afford to go to an enchantery again, I’ll change the bound spells in my cane to more useful ones.”

“You’re right about Aryyad,” Cultrost said. “He got some charm-Feat that enhances his charisma.”

“Just like Father taught us,” Numisley recalled. In the past, their father taught them how to resist people like [Traders] with unnatural charisma and other effects so they wouldn’t be easily ripped off. “But this feels different.”

“How so, Numis?”

“He seems ‘blessed.’ Does that make sense? It’s not like the feeling of magic or a Feat.”

“Blessed?” Cultrost was scratching his horns. “Nope, don’t get it.”

“Bottom line is, we’ll have to be careful about what we say. I’m the only one of us brothers who got an Aura to resist it, but thanks for pushing me earlier.’

“I just gave you a nudge.”

“I almost fell.”

They chuckled, lying down on the bed.

“Since all the [Merchants]’ left except those under Aryyad, this is a prime opportunity.” Numisley thought out loud.

“No competition, right?” Cultrost asked.

“Yep,” Numisley replied. “Give me like…a while. I’ll check the inventory later. See what we can sell right now.”

-

While order is reinstated by the remnants of the Household Guard within Ovespuerte, Raudaeiz, and his gang interrogate the interloper who was found sneaking around their hideout.

“Woke ya’ up?”

The girl looked up at a hulking reptilian person who sat on a barrel in a dim and damp cellar. When Texion saw her feline eyes open, he stood up.

“Boss! The [Thief]’s awake!”

The cellar doors opened, and Raudaeiz came down to deal with the [Thief]. He saw a Demihuman just like him, only with feline ears and tufts of fur across her arms. The young [Assassin] snarled, fangs bared. With a few Torregornian words that she knows, she shouted:

“Where am I? Release me!”

“Who are you?” Raudaeiz asked back. Her first instinct was to lie, to obfuscate her origins, but she remembered that the collar around her neck was gone.

“Rhmarha. I am an [Assassin]. Former [Assassin] of an Assassin Guild.”

Raudaeiz raised his eyebrows. She didn’t seem like she was lying.

“And you were involved in the chaos last night?”

“Yes. I was lucky to survive.” Rhmarha answered.

“So, what are you doing around our hideout, lurking about?”

“Finding shelter. A safe house. Anywhere to hide.”

“And now you are in our cellar.” Raudaeiz quipped. “What’s next?”

“Getting out of here.” The girl answered. “I will not steal anything from you, so can I please go now?”

“I can’t let you out now that you know our whereabouts. But I do not have the luxury of slicing open your throat here and now. You are an [Assassin], right? So you have Feats that can be useful to my gang. So, join us.”

“I want to leave this port as soon as I can.”

“That won't be happening anytime soon. The ships had left the port during your attack. I can’t guarantee you can slip through one of their ships easily. Besides, where can you go? Will someone take you as a [Laborer] or a [Barmaid]?”

Raudaeiz removed his headdress, laying his Satyr heritage bare. Rhmarha was surprised by the short, curved horns on his forehead. She thought he was another Human.

“You are a Demihuman like me, and I have seen how the people here treat folks other than Human. I’ve experienced how these Torregornians treat criminals. So, join me, and you will be fed. You will share a portion of our spoils like any other of my street urchins. You will get caught even if I release you right now.”

The Demihuman Beastkin gave it some thought. What her captor said makes sense. She was sure that other criminals wouldn’t treat her nicely, and the worst thing that could happen if she was sold to slavery again.

“Then, I have one condition.” She spoke.

“Which is?” Raudaeiz asked.

“I will not be a slave again.”

-

Rhmarha was escorted by Raudaeiz towards an abandoned building within their burgeoning turf. Raudaeiz's group had amassed a pile of weapons, armor, and other stolen goods amid the chaos. She was impressed by the amount that they had stolen in a short span of time.

“Who’s she?”

Nilmuckee, one of the original gang members from Libertalia, asked his boss.

“Our new member,” Raudaeiz answered.

“She looks competent. About time that we got someone useful other than urchins.”

Nilmuckee stared at the pallid children rummaging through the pile and organizing them under the watch of Umberzo. Although some are pure-blooded Humans, many were Demihumans with patches of scales and tufts of fur. Weapons are tossed into one corner, and armor in the opposite corner. The precious items in the pile of stolen goods, such as low-grade potions, are snatched by Jrain.

The sight reminds Rmarha of a brief time that had gone by before she was captured as a [Slave] to be sold to [Assassins].

“Is that all from the haul?” Raudaeiz asked Umberzo.

“Yes, boss. If the [Fencer] doesn’t rip us off, I’d say we’re getting silvers tonight.” Umberzo answered.

Raudaeiz turned to the young [Assassin].

“Now, I got a mark for you.” Raudaeiz turned to Rhmarha. “West of here, above a tavern named Rtcas’ Place, is where Tosi hides. He is the leader of a gang that tried to attack us. This is perfect since yesterday's chaos forced him to hide in that building.”

“And you want me to assassinate him.” Rhmarha flatly declared.

“If you are willing to take this job,” Raudaeiz replied. “If not, we’ll storm the tavern.”

Rhmarha took a glance at the children working for Raudaeiz’s gang, a sight not too unfamiliar to her. One of Raudaeiz's men gave them a single loaf of bread to be distributed among them, divided into crumbs.

“I do not like using children, you know. But I intend to acquire more turf in this port, and there will be a time when I could feed them more than a loaf a day. Tosi has enough coin stockpiled to make us rich for a few days.” Raudaeiz read the [Assassin]’s mind.

“Why do you need more territory?” Rhmarha asked.

“The truth is, I’m working alongside a very ambitious young man,” Raudaeiz answered without revealing the details.

“I’ll do it.” Rhmarha agreed.

Assassination is the only thing she has ever known. Being here is better than being a beggar and risking being caught again.