Before the sun rose from the black horizon, Aryyad headed to the Mage’s Guild to claim the funds given by his liege. He had informed the Guildmaster of Mages beforehand that there would be a priority teleportation order across the Golden Triangle, and a few unfortunate [Mages] are forced to wake up before the city’s bells herald the morning. With him are the Merchant’s Guild’s [Accountants] he trusts, five [Haulers], and two of his most elite Human [Mercenaries]–not the best under his employment, but bringing his elite Beastkin force might startle the people inside the guild headquarters.
The [Mages] on duty directed Aryyad and his entourage to the warded room where the teleportation circle is located. Three neatly organized chests were arranged in a triangle within the runic circle.
“That will be six hundred and fifty gold coins.” The [Mage] behind Aryyad said. The [Mercenaries] detected a hint of hostility, subtly moving their dominant hands closer to their scabbard.
“Let the [Accountants] count the exact amount first.” Aryyad hissed.
Although he would rather take his time and transport the gold via ship because it is cheaper despite the risks, he was already pressed for time. He guessed that the fee was higher because of the mana consumed by the teleportation circle and because he knew that the Mage Guild could get away with overcharging even a [Merchant] like him. As the [Accountants] counted each individual coin with mechanical speed, Aryyad hoped that no coin had been lost during teleportation.
“Two thousand gold coins total.” One of the [Accountants] confirmed after consulting her partner.
Aryyad nodded to the [Mages]. Six hundred glimmering gold coins were levitated by one of the [Mages] of the Guild to another room. He ordered the rest of his entourage to lift the chest to his cart. Before he left the Mage Guild’s headquarters, he paid for a [Message] spell to be sent to the castle of Ovespuerte itself.
When he arrived at his ship, moored in the docks he bought, he saw a familiar shadowy figure sitting on his chair, reading the letters he left on his desk.
“You had summoned me with your Feat. You have a job for our cabal, yes?” The master of the [Assassins] he previously hired asked. “I had only accepted your request because I came to remind you of the [Slaves] you haven’t delivered. [Slaves] we require to replace our fifteen losses.”
“Yes, I know. A [Message] from my associate says that they shall arrive in three days' time.” Aryyad reassured. “I require whoever is available in your Assassin Guild to find and steal a book for me. A brown book with subtle sorceries to hide itself and fill itself with pages. It is in the possession of my associates, Numisley and Cultrost Gildin.”
“We are an Assassin’s Guild. Not a Thieves Guild. And there are many in this port, from mere urchins to the fleetest of feet. Our knives are for cutting throats, not purses. This is a waste of time.”
The master of [Assassins] stood up from his chair, but Aryyad provoked his attention before he disappeared.
“Is stealing one book too beneath you? I bet there is one among your [Slave]-[Assassins] that was enslaved by stealing a loaf of bread.”
The master of [Assassins] stopped and turned his feline eyes towards Aryyad.
“Why us?” The [Assassin] leader asked. “Our Feats are specialized for killing, not stealing.”
“All of the [Thieves] and [Thugs] in this city are working for Johoon. And I don’t want anybody else to know this book exists. It is more than just a book of spells, you understand?” Aryyad said, obfuscating the true nature of the brown book in the Gildin Brothers’ possession.
“Thirty gold. Hand it over. I saw the chests of gold your people carry. That is the cabal’s fee.”
Aryyad didn’t have a choice, even if he could negotiate the price.
“If you haven’t heard, that Commerro boy will have a coronation. That would be the perfect moment to strike.”
-
The night before, the Voice of the World had seen fit to etch Numisley’s soul with rewards from his biggest information sale yet. From deeds comes power: this is how this universe operates.
[Feat - Disseminate Rumor, acquired.]
[Rare Feat - Primary Source: Commerro House, acquired.]
[Rare Feat - Area of Sources: Ovespuerte.]
[Feat - Record Information, acquired.]
[Feat - Monitor Budget, acquired.]
Numisley woke up in a bed without his brother. Cultrost was an early riser, unlike himself. He felt like he was getting too comfortable sleeping on a bed, a castle’s bed no less, even for guests.
A vague circular silhouette of the city appeared in his mind's eye. There are motes of faint light scattered around this mental image. For now, he stopped imagining it and went down to the dining hall to find Cultrost reciting couplets to Racieros at the table.
“Numisley!” Racieros interrupted as he saw Numisley standing still.
“Brother, I was–”
“I haven't heard one of your poems for a long time,” Numisley said. “Who’s it for?”
Cultrost stepped back, his face trying to hide his embarrassment however, he regained his composure.
“The poem needs work. It’s shi–It’s for Racieros. And us. I felt like celebrating a bit.” Cultrost stumbled over his words. “We received good news earlier, before the first bell of the morning, that Aryyad will financially support the coronation. He will provide manpower, too.”
“That’s great.” Numisley smiled before turning to Racieros. “You will meet with the [Guildmasters] today, right?”
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“Yes,” Racieros answered. “I hope that I can get their help.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” Cultrost reassured.
“It means a lot to me when you say that,” Racieros spoke wistfully, then sighed. “But I’m sure that they will make demands. I hope that these demands satisfy them.”
Racieros turned to a [Servant], ordering her to fetch the meals prepared for breakfast.
“Cultrost and you are from the Wild Continent, right?–Libertalia, I mean.” Racieros turned back to Numisley and Cultrost.
“Liberan.” Numisley corrected but realized it was futile.
“I never thought I would be worried about what the commoners might think about me. Or take my stewardship lessons seriously until now. My father taught me that once a commoner with ability and talent will earn influence. This is why the ‘Gildir’ caste exists.”
“Gildir…” Cultrost was trying to remember the meaning of that Torregornian word. “That means ‘people of the guilds,’ right?”
“Yes,” Racieros answered. “It’s an honorary title given to commoners who either belong to a guild or an individual who had done great things to the realm. But, my father said that ultimately, they could rival nobility in power and influence, for their Feats benefit the community. If they really wanted to, they could wrest power from nobility if they wished. I heard that your homeland is full of those people; that there are no [Kings] and [Emperors] there, only petty fiefs and city-states, ruled by [Lords], [Merchants], [Mayors], [Guildmasters] and [Generals].”
“We never needed any of those…[Kings].”
“But you do. And you overthrew them millennia ago, but–never mind…I’m not as smart and articulate as my father, who often debated with Libertalian [Merchants] that came to port. Nor is it my intention. I merely seek advice on how you would deal with them, Numisley and Cultrost.”
Numisley first recalled how their father would handle negotiations between him and the [Guildmaster] of the Merchant’s Guild of Renimburg or that one time he met with the [Guildmasters] of the Lamparu Family of the city-state of Cadlers. Still, he recontextualized it if he were to be the [Mayor] of Renimburg. Both brothers knew that Racieros was right, that their homeland allows for all peoples like their Gildir, people from the humble [Shoemaker] to the mightiest [General] or the richest [Merchant], that could rival their governments with their influence from their Feats and deeds.
“Speak to them as equals. But do not falter. Make sure that their concessions will be reasonable. Do not be afraid to stand your ground if their demands are unreasonable.” Numisley gave Racieros his advice. He imagined that this was what his father would’ve told Racieros.
“Show them that you are worth following,” Cultrost added. “Show them that you can be trusted.”
Although more vague than Numisley’s advice, Racieros heeded Cultrost more. He held the words of both brothers in equal measure, however. When they finished their breakfast, a minor celebration for the day's good news, Racieros sat on his wooden throne, waiting to receive the [Guildmasters] he summoned. They all knelt before the would-be Contiearl of Ovespuerte and the rest of the Commerro House. This time, he only summoned the [Guildmasters] of the Scrivener’s Guild, Mage’s Guild, Smith’s Guild, Fishmonger’s Guild, Courier’s Guild, and the Builder’s Guild: those guilds who will be necessary for the coronation.
“I summon you all for the honor of assisting in the preparations for my coronation. Would you all accept my request?”
From their perspective, born and raised with the Divine Decree’s creed, this request came from a holy figure, a scion ordained by the gods of order and civilization to take the next step as the new leader of the Holy House of Commerro. A stout man who looked like he could lift a house spoke:
“My Guild and my [Carpenters] will be willing to participate in your coronation. We are confident that we can repair the damaged state of this holy place.”
“Your Greatness.” A woman who appeared to be a [Mage] spoke; the orb of her ornate wooden staff glowed green. “We respect you as our liege. But how would you intend to repay us? Mana potion prices are at an all-time high as spring approaches.”
Racieros remembered his lessons about the economics of mana potions.
“If the expenses are insufficient for the coronation, I will be indebted to you. That also applies to all of you [Guildmasters]. Know this, I will be eternally grateful for your help, and I swear to the Divine Decree itself that I will pay you all someday. I give you my word as patriarch of the Commerros, for none of our House left their debts unpaid.”
That short, eloquent speech hung in the air. For the [Guildmasters] and residents of Ovespuerte, these words came from their nobility, divine intermediaries of the gods of their civilization in their belief in the Divine Decree.
Cultrost and Numisley listened in behind a doorway as they headed to an alternate exit in the castle. Numisley thought Racieros was declaring a promise he might not keep, but Cultrost was less critical of his speech. From what Cultrost observed in the weeks that they lived here, the people of this city and the other settlements of this kingdom are loyal to their governors in a way that neither of them understands yet.
All of the [Guildmasters] pledged to help with the coronation, much to the surprise of both brothers.
A few minutes after the meeting in the throne room, Dustitoz summoned five of his soldiers to his room within the castle of Ovespuerte. No one kept guard in his room except for his two guards from his retinue. He detected no listening spells in his room. This was proof of Racieros' inexperience, and he unashamedly exploited it to this day. Three of his Feats sensed the flow of money within the city, the traces of magic that made an arc to the port’s Mage Guild, and the rumor mills within Ovespuerte’s streets.
“Remove your armor and weapons,” Dustitoz ordered the [Soldiers] he summoned. They followed their liege’s instructions to the letter, placing them on the floor.
“As of today, until the effect of my Feat runs out, you are my [Spies]. You will investigate Racieros Commerro, the Gildin Brothers, and the Mage and Merchant’s Guilds.”
Dustitoz declared it to the world, and its Voice acceded to his order as a combination of his Feats: [Staff: Temporary Role - Spy] and [Instant Training: Intrigue]. The five [Soldiers] changed in front of Dustitoz. They saw their Roles disappearing with their eyes, the fruits of their years of service in the House of Gaviolos temporarily withheld from their souls. What replaced it was their new Role and the Feats that come with it, given to them by their liege. Five years of training in the ways of intrigue replaced their expertise as fighters. Their appearance grew plainer in an instant. Despite the shock to their souls, they were ready to serve.
“Your order will be done.” They kneeled in reverence.
“[Distribute Feat - Recruitment: The Cunning Shall Seek Me]. Go hire people to build my information network.” Dustitoz handed them pouches of silver before they left the room.
Two of the five disguised themselves as new hires of the castle. Three roamed the darkest and shadiest of Ovespuerte’s streets, recruiting vagrants and criminals for their network. With instructions from Dustitoz via letters, they coordinated their investigations, sending their findings through missives that were snuck to his room without issue.
The preparations for the coronation are underway, and soon, the rest of the Commerros have heard of their House’s new patriarch and his coronation. Their petty squabbling had cost them time traveling towards their House’s capital city. When the news was confirmed, their quarrels mostly stopped, and their frustrations were now directed towards Racieros and his claim of Ovespuerte. Although he was the only surviving son of Torresso Commerro, each family head sought to take Racieros’ throne away from him.
The few Commerro [Lords] and [Ladies] who have the sense to not bicker with each other had already arrived at the gates of Ovespuerte three days after Racieros’ announced his coronation.