Judging by the look on Thelo’s face, the word that had returned from the king was not good.

He sighed deeply, pushing the paper he’d been stewing over to the side.

“What happened?” Dominic asked.

“His Majesty has informed us that he appreciates our interest in the operation and our willingness to participate in it,” Thelo replied.

“But he’s not going to actually allow our request, I presume.”

“He hasn’t outright said ‘no,’ but he has ‘expressed his reluctance.’”

He sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Well, this isn't entirely unexpected,” he said. “Healers strong enough to be able to head the operation would much more reliably come from the ranks of the royal mages. It’s not necessary to risk entrusting the role to some stranger he’s never met.”

“But we can’t have that,” Dominic said. “We’ll be brushed to the side.”

“I could live with it,” Thelo corrected. “As much as I’d love to be in the crown’s good graces, I have no issue with sitting back and letting the royal mages do the job instead.”

He lazily pointed a finger at Dominic.

“But you seem hellbent on making a scene.”

Dominic frowned and looked away. It was true that in the king’s eyes, there was no need to include him. The entire fiasco could be safely dealt with on his own. But having to sit by the countess’s side for weeks had chipped away at Dominic’s patience. This was not something he wanted to leave to somebody else.

“If he didn’t want us there,” he said, “then why did he only ‘express his reluctance?’ A definite ‘no’ from the king would have left no room for argument.”

“Perhaps he still thinks he can find some use for us elsewhere,” Thelo answered. “Either way, it’s not like we can argue with the king just because the wording isn’t exact.”

He picked up the letter and waved it around, a mix of annoyance and exhaustion radiating off of him.

“For all we know, this could’ve been written by his butler.”

He set it back on the table. Dominic walked over to get a better look at it. The handwriting was elegant, almost artistic, but the moment he touched it, he found himself surprised by something totally different.

“Ha,” he murmured, smiling dryly to himself.

“What is it?”

“You haven't slept in a few days, have you, Thelo.”

Dominic injected just the tiniest bit of mana into the paper.

“For you not to notice this.”

A complex magic design spread across the letter, the intricately drawn circuits glowing like spiderwebs. The black ink slowly faded away as a different layer of words came into focus.

“…Son of a bitch,” Thelo mumbled.

Dominic raised an eyebrow.

“Me or the king?”

“I, a mere servant of the great country of Hesia, would never dare to insult my sovereign—”

“What does it say?”

Thelo turned his attention to the paper. Unlike the long, flowery letter from before, only a few lines had been written down on this version.

“His Majesty…”

His eyes skimmed over the sentences, expression darkening.

“His Majesty is willing to consider you for the position,” he said, “if you can prove that you are really capable of what you claim.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Dominic asked.

Thelo pursed his lips. He ran a finger over a few characters in particular, reading them over and over again.

“Haema,” he replied. “He has…given you a name. Someone to deal with.”

Dominic frowned.

“It sounds like he just wants me to do some dirty work for him,” he commented.

“Indeed,” Thelo agreed. “But this may be your only chance.”

Dominic hesitated a moment, then turned back to the letter.

“Tell me about ‘Haema,’” he said.

“He must be referring to Count Haema,” Thelo answered. “He’s also notorious for owning slaves. He’s probably only second to the countess in number.”

“Does he run an arena too?”

“Not that I know of, although I’m sure he attends the countess’s exhibitions here and there.”

Thelo tapped the paper, apprehensive.

“Instead of keeping slaves as maids or servants,” he said, “Count Haema is known for training them as soldiers.”

“Does the king think he’s a threat?”

“Impossible. He would never be a threat to the crown. But, as a close friend of the countess, Count Haema might disrupt the operation. If she requests reinforcements in the middle of the raid…”

“It would be troublesome.”

Thelo sighed again, his brow furrowed in thought.

“If you want to be part of the raid, then you’d have to take care of the soldiers beforehand,” he murmured. “But if you take care of them before it even begins, then the count will obviously notice that something is wrong. You might risk upending the entire thing and alerting the countess that we’re after her.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“You don’t like it.”

“I don’t.”

“But the king has requested it.”

“He’s left it up to your discretion.”

Dominic pursed his lips, turning the thought over in his head. He didn’t like it either, but it was a chance. Besides, if the count got along with Countess Maylia, then he would gladly cause problems for him.

“I’ll at least go take a look,” he said. “Tell me how to get to the count’s residence.”

He touched a corner of the letter, the magic circuits still glistening cold blue against the sunlight.

“I’ll leave tonight.”

∞

Night slowly fell on Helwin. Dominic approached the mirror in his room, long hair swaying with his steps. Lio appeared there, an elegant aura surrounding him despite his hair being unkempt. His horns glinted black against the dim light of the one lamp he’d left on.

He closed his eyes, loosened his focus, and let them slowly slide off his head, then fall to the floor.

There were two dull thuds as they tumbled to a rest, just as lifeless as they had been when he’d taken them off the skull on the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out the spots where they had been. That was one weight off his shoulders.

He gathered his hair back as if to tie it up, and then, in one motion, cut it all off.

He let the long strands slip through his fingers and fall to the floor. He kept a thread attached to his finger and trimmed more off, fixing up the mess he’d made with that haphazard motion. Bits continued to float down, piling on the vanity and around his feet.

He put down his hand when he was done. The person in the mirror was no longer Lio. He wasn’t elegant. He didn't look noble or well educated. Dominic stared at himself, ruffled his hair one more time to shake out the last loose pieces, then turned away from the mirror.

He took off the robe he was in, covered in scraps of hair, and brushed off his neck and shoulders. Thelo had ordered the maids to deliver him new clothes, ones more suited for sneaking around in the dark. They had been folded neatly and left on the dresser, a set similar to the ones he’d worn before becoming Lio—black and dark red. Plain like a passing mercenary's, with a cloak that covered up any identifying details. He donned them, tightened his knife belt around his waist, and put up the hood.

Dominic stepped out into the hall, making his way towards Thelo’s office, but instead of going inside, headed to a room beside it.

He opened the door and stepped in, closing it quietly behind him. The small chamber was empty, only a gate on the far wall humming with energy to greet him. This was the lord’s personal gate, used to travel to the border. Thelo had only recently managed to get it back up and running after years of neglect by the previous lord, and he’d told Dominic to use it. The border station would allow him to eventually transfer to Count Haema’s territory.

Dominic pulled his hood down lower and walked through its shimmering purple surface.

The border station was still lit and active, quite a few warp mages still out sending night owls and party goers through. None of them questioned his presence within the flow of other people. He easily navigated to the next station, and then the next. By the time he arrived at the gate closest to Count Haema’s estate, the crowds had already thinned, leaving him only one of the few who hadn’t yet headed home.

He withdrew his mana, concealing his presence from the strangers around him, and stepped out of the station.

The streets were similarly empty. Thelo had given him instructions on how to navigate to the count’s estate, but he didn’t need it.

Dominic stopped and took a deep breath.

A battalion of soldiers being kept within the city was not hard to find. Metal and burnt wood. Ashes beneath a cooking fire. Scratchy blankets and mumbled complaints. Beside them, a faint but clearly dissonant hint of marble and mahogany. The image the scents built was obvious. Barracks beside a lavish mansion.

Dominic followed the trail. The estate appeared in the distance—a tall, wooden building looming over the huge compound and gardens. The guards at the gate didn’t stop him—didn’t even notice him. He leapt over the wall and landed lightly inside.

He quickly located the barracks. Rather than barracks, they were more like a city of tents. It wasn’t entirely surprising that the count wouldn’t bother to take care of soldiers he got as slaves, but their living area looked like a war encampment rather than permanent lodging. There were still a few lights on here and there, even this late at night, and Dominic guessed that some of them had been relegated to guard duty.

He was right. A pair of soldiers were heading back to the camp from their posts, gravel from the path grinding under their feet as they returned.

Dominic stepped out of the lamp light and hid behind one of the tents. He was confident that they wouldn't notice him even if he stood in front of their face, but being caught inside an opposing lord’s barracks was not worth risking it.

A bush rustled ominously just as they were about to pass it. The pair froze.

“What was that?” the shorter one said, looking around for the source of the sound.

“Probably just an animal,” the other replied.

It rustled again, and their gazes snapped towards the bush the noise had come from. The leaves parted, and they reached for their swords.

A tiny, black rabbit hopped out. The two of them stared at it, then let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

“Just a damn rabbit,” the taller one mumbled. “I can’t believe we got startled by this thing.”

“This time of night just puts you on edge no matter what it is.”

“It really does. We ought to catch the rabbit and cook it for that.”

“Ha!”

They turned and continued towards the maze of tents, leaving the rabbit where it was despite their words. Dominic glanced at the animal for a moment, then followed them deeper into the encampment.

He quietly wandered between the tents, observing the place. Although he had come all this way, he did agree with Thelo. The king had asked him to take care of things here, but he had no idea how to go about doing it. Releasing all of the soldiers from their slave restraints was out of the question. So many people deserting at once would sound the alarm to every noble who had anything to do with the trade. But leaving them here would put them on opposing sides during the operation. He might be able to forcefully transfer the ownership of their slave seals to himself, but he didn’t know if it was even possible to do it en masse, and he didn't have the time to do it one by one. Even if he managed it, the count would probably notice very quickly that something was wrong.

There really weren’t any options without extreme risk involved. He racked his brain for other possible scenarios, but before he could come up with anything, his thoughts were rudely interrupted.

The edge of a cold blade slide across the side of his neck, a knife hovering there threateningly. A presence he hadn’t felt before—a scent like ash and metal—appeared behind him.

“Who are you?” they asked, voice low and menacing.

A hundred possible answers flitted through his head. Dominic went with his first instinct.

“An envoy,” he replied vaguely. “I am here to request a meeting with your commander.”

“Ha!”

They let out a sarcastic laugh.

“An envoy? Sneaking around in the shadows of our camp?”

“I haven’t lied. Won’t you grant me an audience?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Only your commander needs to.”

The knife pressed harder against Dominic’s neck, breaking skin. He held steady.

The person behind him seemed to hesitate a moment. They brought two fingers to their lips and whistled loud and clear.

Commotion immediately spread throughout the camp. Those who were still awake came out to see what was going on. Those who had been woken up groggily rose to join them. A hand pushed Dominic from behind, prodding him forward.

“Go,” the voice commanded.

He calmly nodded and let himself be led towards the center of the camp. Hundreds of eyes, some still drowsy, fixed on him as he appeared—a stranger inside the estate. Finally, from out of the biggest of the tents, a woman in her thirties with a thick scar across her lip emerged and glanced their way.

“What’s going on, Sung?” she asked.

Sung pushed him forward, removing the knife from beside his throat. For the first time, Dominic got a glimpse of who it had been. A boy around his age with short brown hair was standing there, smirking.

“I found this guy snooping around between the tents,” he said, pointing a thumb towards where they’d come from.

His gaze met Dominic’s, and he shot him a smug grin.

“He said he wanted to meet you, Commander.”