Ovespuerte remains reeling from the chaos it endured from the many plots that burst into their conclusions from the seams of its shadows. The news had spread that the Contiearl had defended himself from an attempted coup that resulted in riots and that the port would be improved upon with the investment of various nobility, guilds, and merchant companies. The rioters were detained for a time in the castle’s dungeons before being set free once Racieros knew that there were not enough cells to hold them.

Many free citizens of Ovespuerte had gathered the resolve to move to safer cities after being in this string of chaotic events, and Racieros, even with his newly-vested authority, did not have the heart, nor felt like he had the right to keep them within the city. The [Merchants] who hail from lands beyond the kingdom merely made this a stop towards and from the Golden Triangle had simply sailed away without looking back. Those who remain see opportunities despite the danger, and they are the ones who are perceptive and astute enough to see it.

“With danger comes deeds. With deeds comes power.”

Racieros blurted out a common saying across the Six Lands as he read the reports of the many free citizenry and [Traders] leaving the docks and gates almost every day. Yet he knew that those remain would take advantage of the properties and jobs abandoned, and the opportunities the new investment plan had provided. Ever since Numisley had left, he had to sign papers and meet people who wanted something from him. He knew that he was in danger, for few of the Household Guard had survived. In any moment, he was ripe for any assassination attempts that would end his life in an instant.

He kicked the table with the force of his frustration and boredom. Sheaves of unsigned and signed papers fell to the carpet of his father’s office.

“Let’s spar.” He said to Cultrost. “I’m sick of reading and signing.”

Cultrost did not object despite the gradually growing mounds of paperwork because he knew that sparring relaxed him. They were in the castle’s training grounds. There was none of the Household Guard or any [Servant] available to monitor them, nor did Racieros needed or wanted anyone but Cultrost to be with him. They sparred with real, but unenchanted weapons, and wore enchanted amulets that protected them from themselves.

Racieros began to poke Cultrost’s defenses, playfully at first, but exerting much effort, yet the Satyr effortlessly parried and blocked his cutlass with his well-timed mace. When Cultrost attempted to land a hit, he was deterred by Racieros’ deflections and dodges. The young [Lord] still could not seem to pierce his companion’s defenses. The same could be said to Cultrost, who had increasingly fails to land a hit to his sparring partner.

“I wished I could fight my paperwork.” Racieros quipped between strikes. “At least it wouldn’t be boring.”

“I heard that there’s Paper Golems in ancient libraries-turned-dungeons. Or people made out of paper on the other side of the Six Lands.” Cultrost said, repeating adventurer gossip back home as he blocked Racieros’ stabs.

“Really?” Racieros swerved away from Cultrost’s heavy arc. “Wish I was an adventurer. Or a [Knight] or [Paladin] like my brother. Speaking of which, you said you became a [Knight], right?”

“Adventuring’s hard, and not that…heroic.” Cultrost stopped for a moment. “And yes, like I told you yesterday, my brother made me a [Knight].”

“Again, congratulations. I wish I had more [Knights].” Racieros took a stance, prompting Cultrost to continue to bout. “Or anyone who I can trust for that matter.”

“True.” Cultrost suddenly had an idea as he swerved Racieros’ overextended stab, and performed a left hook towards Racieros’ face. The impact of that punch was dampened by their magical protections, but it still made Racieros fall on the floor. Cultrost extended a hand with a smile and continued to speak:

“You invited the…uh, Inglorious Hands mercs’ right?”

Cultrost pulled Racieros’ up, and they distanced themselves from each other, preparing for another bout.

“They’re still not enough. My mother is planning to levy people in the lands that we control.” Racieros took a moment to catch his breath.

“Guessin’ that ain’t that simple.” Cultrost shrugged. Racieros did not take a stance and instead performed a series of flashy flourishes that forced Cultrost to be more defensive than usual. Yet he failed to notice that Racieros flourish is a feint and his blade touched his chin from an unexpected angle.

“Did it!” Racieros exclaimed in joy.

“Finally scored a hit, huh.” Cultrost sighed, before letting out a laugh. Racieros’ grim expression returned, however.

“Yes. As you said. Things are not as simple as I hope. The other Commerros would not follow my mother’s edict. Or they would follow, with an army levied against us.” Racieros roamed in a semicircle around Cultrost.

“You need a personal guard then?” Cultrost replied.

“Yes.” Racieros took a stance, cutlass pointing in an angle towards Cultrost.

“Then, what if you put us on retainer?” Cultrost asked. Racieros paused for a moment.

“With the debt we are incurring from the investment plan, the debt from my coronation, the cost of rebuilding the castle, the obligations to the guilds, and so on, how can we pay you?”

“I’m not my brother, but you can trust me. As long as you provide them with food, lodging, and anything they need, I’ll tell them that they need not require more. The service’s free, is all I’m saying.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I’m sure that my brother would come up with something. But if you ask me, I–we had helped you all this time. Sure, my brother has some ulterior motive. Maybe he would use you for his…and admittedly our ambition. But, you know it's for our own safety because what we have is too dangerous. Think of this as us continuing to help you, as you helped us. Continuing our relationship.”

“I’ll think about it. First…” Racieros returned to his initial stance. Cultrost started the new bout with a charge, but Racieros blocked the attack, following with a shove and a slash, which Cultrost parried.

“Speaking of! Relationships!” Racieros swiped at Cultrost as he spoke, but missed by a hair’s breadth.

“What about them?” Cultrost swung his mace vertically, but Racieros blocked it.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Ever been with one before?” Racieros shoved Cultrost back, pushing the mace with his

“Never thought of it.” Cultrost stepped back even further. “Even back home.”

“What kind of person do you like then?” Racieros

Cultrost took Racieros’ missed stab as an opportunity to charge and perform a takedown, sweeping his legs and catching him before he fell hard on solid stone. They gazed towards each other’s eyes and saw refuge within each other. Their bated breath synchronized with their beating hearts.

“People like you.”

Before Racieros could say anything, they were interrupted by a startled [Servant], flushed and flummoxed by what she saw. The two young men quickly stood up as if nothing happened.

“Lady Commerro urgently summons you, my lord.”

“What’s it about?”

“Delegates, my lord.”

Although Cultrost wanted to come, Racieros’ mother had denied him from doing so because the matter was too delicate for an unknown element to appear in the meeting. Soon, Racieros and his mother, Strraina now sat on twin thrones elevated on draped wooden platforms built in short notice within the courtyard. The garden was trimmed to appear as glamorous and spacious as possible. Only four surviving loyal individuals of the Household Guard can be spared from their usual duties to stand guard, and a high-ranking [Stenographer] hired from the Ovespuerte’s Scribe Guild. A letter of diplomatic import had prompted this event, which Strraina had explained to his son earlier.

Moments after they sat, they were notified by a message-Feat that the foreign delegation was coming. From the gate of the courtyard, they had appeared, holding the banners displaying both the glyph of the nation they represent and the glyphs of the other two members of their tripartite, hung upon poles made out of the spines of their aristocratic ancestors.

One of them, a grey-scaled and squat Dragonkin, dressed in a leopard tunic, began to speak with a voice that silenced all errant sounds and dictated his words as clear as day:

“Here arrives Venerable Vecathax of the Honored Lineage of Otnthilancan, Diplomat-Commodore of Vanderaz, Scale-Lord of the city of Sethancan, who now speaks with the authority of both the Most Resplendent Dragonate of Vanderaz and its divine contemporaries of the Dragonates’ Mundoc and Espadias.”

Racieros’ blood ran colder than the lands north of their kingdom for he knew that one of the Draconic Tripartite, the premier superpower of an ocean beyond, ruled by the last three true Dragons, had stepped into their castle. Strraina struggled to think of a reason what the Dragonate of Vanderas had in store for them, for their letter said nothing other than a strongly worded demand for an audience.

The draconic noble, whose scales glowed a glistening green, their sheen hummed with power; stomped forwards without regard or respect for the presence of Racieros and Strraina; his cerulean and pearl-white toga that covered his tail trailing behind him. His clothes seemed to move with the gravitas of the oceanic waves, and his cloak made of the hide of a golden beast seemed to fiercely glow with his incandescent mood. His entourage of a dozen [Bodyguards] were no less impressive, as they didn’t need the bulky armor characteristic of [Knights]. All of them held either artisanal muskets or meticulously carved wands of pearl or bone that held mana crystals of unparalleled quality. The only metal they wore was their gilded cuirass, pauldrons, greaves, and the metal frames that held their obsidian tail blades, for their enchanted jackets and the runes engraved on their scales were enough to absorb any strike or dampen any spell, powered by the magic in their feather and fish scale capes. Unlike the Commerro’s Household Guard, which only reserves enchanted gear for its best men and women, this diplomatic force all held magical equipment that only nobles could dream of.

“I come here in this backwater fishing town to inform you of Torresso Rahmeiros Commerro’s transgression. That he had murdered one of Vanderaz’s [Spearmasters], Seklrex the Parting Tide. with a backhanded contract curse, informed to me by my divinations. Where is the culprit?” The Vanderaz noble demanded.

“My spouse perished in the hands of a loathsome marauder.” Strraina held back much of hi

“That loathsome marauder is Johoon the Silver-Legged. A powerful [Captain] of the Diamond Shore. Your husband has promised me a concession that Ovespuerte shall pay twice our asking prices for our Dragon’s Dust, matchlocks, abyssal ivory, azure manarine, malachite, and all of our products in exchange for his assassination. The death of a [Spearmaster] of the nation, however, made this null. Vanderaz demands a sufficient compensation of ten thousand vaq. In your cheap currency, fifty-thousand torosi.”

“Fifty thousand gold…” Racieros mouthed, his voice afraid to come out from his throat. Strraina tried to speak, but the [Herald] had silenced her with a Feat.

“If this is not paid in ten days, then your [King] shall answer this insult. I will personally teleport to his court if Our Holiness commands me to do so. If your [King] shall not pay, then we shall answer with one of our Typhoon Arrows that shall devastate your domain with a deluge that shall last decades! Henceforth, our [Merchants] shall sail to the better ports of Iquelica and Zitholon. Our nation shall cease our sale of Dragon’s Dust, firearms, and all of our products to Torregorn starting today.”

“But that’s too unreasonable–”

“[No Room For Negotiation]. You of all people should know how important someone with an Epic Feat is, and how such people are hard to come by. My condolences.”

His last words were sincere, but they felt like a twist of the knife for both Racieros and Strraina. The delegation had simply left, and the gravity of the situation now fell upon them as if they are being besieged by all sides. A major nation, a superpower in the Six Lands, has withdrawn its trade in their county capital because of a diplomatic incident. Johoon saw the hulking ships that bear the banners of Vanderaz starting to sail away, retreating from the docks of Ovespuerte. He was prepared to run and hide if ever he saw signs that they knew that he was here, but when the ships are barely shadows before the black horizon, he guessed that they did not come for him, for now. Now, he waited for news from his spy within the castle.

Aryyad was in his office in the Merchant’s Guild, but he heard the whispers about it nevertheless. He made note of it, and told one of his subordinates to keep spreading disparaging rumors in order to deter more investors for Ovespuerte. He returned his focus to the [Assassin] from the Cabal of Claws in his office.

“So you’re saying that a Satyr has the book?” Aryyad asked.

“Yes.” The [Assassin] kept a taciturn tone, as he was trained to.

“But you said his skin was Human-like. Pale. Not red-skinned.”

“We believe he was another person.”

“So Satyrs had reached this south?” Aryyad asked. “A [Smuggler]? A [Spy]?”

“A [Gang Boss].”

“And someone not on Johoon’s payroll.”

Aryyad heard that there was a new gang that was giving Johoon a headache. They took one of his major hideouts in the days before the riots in Ovespuerte. He knew that they had a Book of Paths, but he knew that it was not those mishmash collages of information that every influential clan, guild, and state has, but a lexicon worth millions of gold, complied by the Spymaster of the Golden Triangle; according to his liege.

“Do you still wish for one of us to track Numisley Gildin?”

“No. Not just yet. Keep watch on Cultrost. The security of the castle is in tatters.”

The [Assassin] bowed, and when Aryyad blinked, he was gone.

The overwhelming stress had led Racieros to his room and led him to cancel his appointments. His mother understood despite the problems and grief that plagued them and took care of the duties her son was supposed to undertake.

When Cultrost opened the door, he saw Racieros exhaling all of the air from his body, and his tears fell like dew.

“Racieros.” Cultrost kept a level voice. “I know that things are hard–”

“You have no idea–”

“I know. But what can you do right now?”

“Now…?”

“Or today. Just–I know it's overwhelming. But, let me be with you just for now. Then we’ll figure it out, step by step.”

Cultrost closed the door behind him, and let Racieros cry in his arms