Nero was packed up and ready to leave the next day. No less than ten people helped with the packing and would accompany him all the way to the Expert’s Commonwealth border. He would have taken a ship from Staff Harbor to Papertown, but Maximus refused to pay for it, so a road trip it was. Romulus and Gala, however, had other duties to attend to. Gala said goodbye in the morning and told him that when they meet again Gala would give him any responsibility that she was capable of giving, and Romulus promised that he would get revenge for their mother.
Though he had ten people help him, there wasn’t much packing to do, rather, Nero wanted things packed in a very particular way but wouldn’t tell the helpers until they already did it wrong. He was too worried about appearing too picky while slowing the whole thing down because of his adjustments.
Two weeks passed without much incident. The only thing that slowed the travel was the various checkpoints that Romulus ordered around the country so soldiers could stop suspicious carriages. Before them one used to barely see wagons on certain parts of the road, versus now where it near checkpoints would be a miracle if you were by yourself, even worrying.
They spent a night in Staff Harbor. The town was mostly quiet, unlike the last time Nero was here. There were no sailors hastily preparing to set sail at a moment's notice, no admirals ordering people and supplies around, or food wagons or merchants flooding the boardwalk. There were still some, but ever since the true culprit of Titus’s poisoning came out, the business of war died with it. Nero found it regrettable that some people made their lives dependent on war. Why should a man live his life on the death of others? How could they feel no empathy for other people? It wasn’t like they had national security measures to consider or the safety of his family. Wouldn’t working in such an industry make their families more at risk?
Nero knew that he couldn’t rationalize their thought process because no man could reach a conclusion like that with logic. An outside factor such as money or blackmail must have influenced them. Whatever it was, Nero wanted to get rid of it.
Before Nero left Staff Harbor, he went to where Titus was buried. The Graveyard was on the edge of town as far away from the commercial sector as possible. Lucius mustn't have wanted Titus’s grave to be monetized in any sense, so he placed it near residential homes. Nero thought that Lucius must have known people were going to try anyway, but alas what could a griffin who lives two countries away do? Charging a fee to see a griffin’s grave would be good money. People had attempted it with Vespa, and they were probably going to try it again with Titus. It wasn’t like Titus’s grave was hidden. One could see it from halfway across the city. The base was a sculpture of Titus (still in progress) with a tower emerging behind it. Nero couldn’t discern how tall it was, but he figured it was at least fifty meters, and along with the statue being parallel with a major street it wouldn’t be hard for a commoner to see it.
When Nero got to the border a couple of days later, he saw about a dozen Expert’s Commonwealth soldiers laced to the teeth in armor. The soldiers that came along with Nero were also suited up but kept their faces exposed most of the time. These soldiers, however, didn’t have a square millimeter of their bodies exposed. Nero wondered how they could see. That would be a good question to write Romulus for.
They asked for identification, and Nero handed them a letter directly from King Maximus informing anyone of Nero’s exile. The soldiers nodded and let them through, but once he was through, he was pleasantly surprised when he saw Iyo fly through the air and land not too far from him. The soldiers ducked, and though their faces were covered Nero could tell that they watched in amazement and fear. Nero smiled as he walked toward Iyo. He finally approached him close enough that he could talk to him but not catch frostbite from Iyo’s breath.
Iyo the Ice Sire was the second largest being on Riverward—behind his brother. His wingspan was 300 meters while he stretched half a kilometer. Nero turned around toward the wagon as the soldiers stayed behind, and the driver continued. The driver was the only one allowed to pass the border as he was the only one unarmed.
“It’s a shame that you have been exiled,” said Iyo. His voice was deep and raspy. Which was understandable as ice constantly lined his mouth.
“Yes, it is,” Nero said, remembering his last conversation with Maximus. “I’m off to see a Raya Webster. She was friends with my mom.”
“My dearest condolences,” Iyo said.
“Thank you, but anyway, I still have a long road ahead of me. It’s nice to see you Iyo. You didn’t have to come.”
“I like to keep track of those who possess dragonvine now and again. I don’t want people who are part dragons to suffer in this world.”
“Well, it seems that you failed,” Nero rebutted. “I’ve been exiled from my own country to live with a woman I’ve never met.”
“That may seem like a long time to you, but that is not long enough for us to consider a problem.”
“Well, I suppose trivial things like exile don’t matter that much, then,” Nero commented.
“I would like to give you some advice,” Iyo said.
Nero nodded. “Alright then.”
“You have not been exiled your entire life. You have been exiled until your father’s death. Things are not as stable in the Expert’s Commonwealth as they appear. I’ll set up a meeting with Foreign Minister Floyd and he’ll explain it to you.”
Nero was at a loss for words. “Wait? What? You are going to set up a meeting with the head of state? What am I going to do?”
“If they need you for something, then you shall provide.”
“Like what?” Nero asked.
“The Lake Republic has been conflicting with the Expert’s Commonwealth and the Griffin Republic in the Starved Sea. There have been skirmishes and sailors arresting other sailors and forcing them to work on their ships.”
“How have I not heard of this?” Nero asked, confused.
“Because dragons fly faster than pigeons, and I’ve heard you don’t pay much attention to foreign countries, even for Qar standards, but that is not the point. The point is that if the situation continues to escalate then you could provide as a mediator for the two sides.”
“A mediator?” Nero asked. “Please, who do you think I am? People are not going to listen to an exiled prince.”
“Would it hurt to try?”
Nero paused. “I suppose not, but it probably wouldn’t work.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Iyo said. “I have complete faith in you to make the most out of your situation.”
Nero hesitated to say anything else, and by the time he could think of something Iyo was already saying goodbye. “Uh, ok, bye,” Nero said before Iyo flew off back south.
#
It was nearly autumn when Nero arrived in Papertown—the Expert Commonwealth’s capital. His meeting with Foreign Minister Floyd was scheduled for the next day, so he had some sightseeing to do. Nero acquired another driver on the way to Cannonville so they could reach Papertown faster.
Papertown and Cannonville were entirely two different cities. Cannonville wasn’t much different from Gatherstorm or any other major city in the Kingdom of Qar. Buildings were brown or gray, and horse stables dotted nearly every corner with horse dung planted next to them, but there were significant differences. Cities in Gatherstorm either had one or two paved or brick-laid roads, while Cannonville had dozens. Nero figured it was because they named the city after the most important invention created in the city—the cannon. Non-paved roads were terrible for cannons and would often get stuck in the mud or dirt, so for a city that invented and was the first major manufacturer of cannons, the roads needed to be paved with extreme care.
Papertown seemed like it came down from the heavens. Nearly every building is covered in green or white bricks. Trees dotted the trees as vines climbed the brick buildings. There was nearly no poop on the ground from people or animals, and Nero could walk in confidence as he had never done before. There were more public cleaners in this one city than the Kingdom of Qar had in the entire country. Ink Run—one of the nine mythical rivers—was almost entirely see-through, a fantasy for the residents of Gatherstorm. Nero read about it back in his library, but as he looked passed the water down to the river’s soil, all knowledge and facts about anything in the city disappeared as he became mesmerized by the water. After they checked into an inn for the night, Nero took a walk down the river. He had already finished all the books he brought with him and wanted to spend as much time on the river as possible. He understood why Gala was so consistent about walks down the Wine River. She knew these rivers were unlike anything else and wanted to clear her head before she started her day. Nero thought that if Gala lived in Papertown then she would be the most humble, clear-minded, and patient person in the world.
As he walked down the river, Nero noticed a large figure in the distance. He walked another kilometer before he realized what it was. It was the mythical Ink Run Water Wheel! Nero was so distracted by the water that he forgot about the city’s main attraction. It stretched fifty meters into the air with countless wedges and buckets spinning around. It had been going non-stop ever since its construction and provided enough energy to power dozens of blacksmith shops, and so it did. The wheel spun a large turbine that split off into dozens more that connected to either a fan—for blacksmith shops—or a smaller waterwheel inside that provided water to cotton and wool shops.
When Nero was standing by the wheel, he noticed that he was the only one mesmerized by it. Everyone else seemed to go about their day, not even batting an eye toward the engineering wonder. Some of them stared at Nero as if it was strange that he considered the wheel to be a marvelous thing that someone should admire for a good while.
It was now that Nero finally remembered the existence of the People’s Lord. They used greenwood poison, after all, which could only be sourced from the Expert’s Commonwealth. Maybe they were watching him right now, waiting to kidnap or kill him. Nero turned straight back toward the hotel with such a troubling thought dominating his mind for the rest of the night.
#
As Nero made his way toward the capital meeting the next day, he gazed upon the falling leaves. He nearly passed by 1,000 sweepers trying their best to keep the green and white streets clean from the orange and red leaves. If it were left up to Nero, he would have just gutted the trees from the city entirely so that these people could do something more productive and fulfilling in their lives. The cost of having trees falling on the ground vastly outweighed the benefit of a more nature-oriented city in Nero’s mind.
The capital building was nearly as large as the palace in Gatherstorm. It was completely white with vines carefully crafted and grown, so they grew only upwards passed the windows. Nero watched as more public cleaners trimmed vines that strayed to their sides. The building contained more and bigger windows than any other building that Nero had seen. When Nero first read about the building in an architecture book, he couldn’t believe how the capital building was still standing with so many holes made in the structure for windows.
The roof was nearly all flat except for the front which had a giant triangle starting from opposite ends of the roof. The sides converged in the middle and depicted a griffin flying above a ship in the space the triangle provided.
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The inside was even more spectacular. The floor was made of tile, something that was near-extinct (except for royal property) from the Kingdom of Qar because of absurdly high tariffs. He approached a roundtable in the center of the spacious lobby and told them that he was expecting a meeting with Foreign Minister Floyd. The secretary hesitated—which Nero never found out why—and checked Floyd’s schedule. Nero slumped forward as he became nervous that something had gone wrong before the secretary stood up and told him to follow.
They nearly walked for two minutes as they went up to the second level and passed various paintings and small sculptures that decorated the hallway. Nero appreciated not only the decoration but the judicious placement of them.
They stopped at the end of the hallway on the right side of the building, faced the door, and knocked. A voice called out from the office. “Come in!” and the secretary opened the door, letting Nero pass through, before closing the door behind him.
Nero found the Foreign Minister standing up from his desk. They approached each other and shook hands as they introduced themselves. “Foreign Minister Roman Floyd, nice to meet you,” he said.
“Nero Qar, likewise.”
Floyd went back to his desk as Nero sat on a lightly padded chair opposite of him. Though he tried his best to hide it, it seemed that Floyd couldn’t help but stare at Nero’s dragonvine. Nero thought about saying something but decided against it as the conversation would have become awkward.
Roman Floyd was a much older man than Nero and groaned as he sat down. An earl, prince, or king would never publicly groan as they performed such a simple action. It would appear as if their health was in decline, and people around them would start making potential plans to mess with the line of succession. The Expert’s Commonwealth was different. Through his reading, Nero looked through the country’s system of governance. It was a society based entirely on merit, with no bloodlines or elections. Each profession stayed in its field and didn’t interact with each other. The general surgeon and the health committee would have the final say in any healthcare decisions, the country’s economic minister and the economic committee would have the final say in any fiscal or monetary policy, and Foreign Minister Floyd would have the final say in any foreign treaties or any other matters involving foreign relations. It was all decided based on merit and experience. Non-quantifiable factors were ruled out completely for the sake of consistency and predictability.
“I understand that Iyo wanted me to have you as an arbitrator for rising tensions,” Floyd said.
“Yes, he did,” Nero responded. “I tried—” Nero tripped over his words. “To tell him that I have no experience of what is happening and limited knowledge of the tensions with the Lake Republic.”
“Well, we dare not oppose a dragon, so tell me what you do know.”
Since Nero talked to Iyo, he tried to find any information about the conflict. He picked up bits and pieces along the way, but the bulk of his knowledge came from when he was in Cannonville. “A couple of years ago a Lake Republic ship and an Expert’s Commonwealth ship collided during a foggy night. In the confusion, they both assumed they were being attacked, and a battle commenced. The Expert’s Commonwealth ship won, and some of the men were captured and brought back to Papertown. When Councilman Daniels heard of the news, he demanded compensation. You promptly agreed, but ever since, for some reason, Lake Republic ships have continued to stop and capture sailors and bring them back to Kato Kanali. You and your ally the Griffin Republic have retaliated by doing the same, and this has been going on for at least a year now.”
“Not exactly,” Floyd explained. “That first ship during the first night contained goods that Councilman Daniels considered of vast importance. He tried to make up for lost profits, but unlike what you’ll hear in Kato Kanali, we have never gone on the offensive.”
Nero nodded his head in agreement, even though he was suspicious of Foreign Minister Floyd’s claim of never taking a Lake Republic Ship on purpose. Especially since the Griffin Republic had gotten involved to “support their ally” even though a war never started.
“We are nearly on the brink of war. Luckily, none of the skirmishes have involved more than one ship on each side, but if a skirmish occurs where ten maybe five ships on each side are involved, then we are potentially looking at war.”
“Why haven’t you tried negotiating?” Nero asked.
“Well, that is what Iyo wants. That’s why he sent you here, but I doubt it will work.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard of Councilman Hektor Daniels, but he is not the most cooperative man. He refuses to sell any of his shares of leadership, no matter what the offer. He seems to value control over the Lake Republic over money he could make selling his majority share. Also, there are rumors that he sees and hears things.”
“You are saying the richest man in the world is insane?” Nero asked, shocked that he had never heard of this before.
“I’m not, but that is what I’ve heard from across the sea. Also, there are rumors that your father is insane.”
Nero shook his head. “No, he is perfectly aware of what he is doing. There is a difference between insane and incompetent.”
Floyd broke out into laughter. “Pardon me, but you should watch your mouth. That can get you killed. If an exiled prince starts bad-mouthing a royal, let alone a king, he will get killed.”
“I would rather take my chances with my father compared to the People’s Lord.”
“I forgot about them,” Floyd said, calming down. “Sorry I didn’t say this before, but I am sorry for your loss.
“Don’t worry about it. If I start bad-mouthing the king, then the People’s Lord might leave me alone. I think they’ve sensed that I am not their biggest threat.”
“Don’t act like you know everything,” Floyd reminded. “I live in a country full of experts, but every day there are questions. I only ever hear statements from your father, not questions.”
“Well, a king—”
“What? Needs to appear strong. Don’t lie to yourself. If people expect strength, then they will be more sensitive to weakness. People here expect to know nothing they are newly exposed to. There are still people who try to inflate their ego, but they usually get brushed aside if they don’t learn and move to the Griffin’s Republic.”
Nero nodded but hadn’t internalized the thought. But as they continued to talk, it sunk deeper into his mind. It made complete sense, and he realized that Nero agreed with the statement nearly his entire life, even if he hadn’t consciously thought about it.
A knock came from the door, and Floyd stood up in shock. “Beg your pardon, but I have to meet with someone else. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Nero waved him off as he stood up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my way to stay with a Raya Webster in Writer’s End.”
“She writes some good books,” commented Floyd. “I’ve read them all. You’re lucky to have her as a friend. Do you have her address yet?”
“Yes,” Nero responded.
“Alright then, see you soon,” Floyd said as they shook hands before Nero turned around to leave, but before he could reach the door, he turned back toward the minister and asked one more question. “Why weren’t the other leaders of Leozan at Titus’s funeral?”
The foreign minister sighed before answering. “I know we’ve given wish-wash answering to your people and government, but off the record, it’s because the people in the Kingdom of Qar have seemingly forgotten that Titus killed thousands of Tolmans during our independence war. Also, we didn’t know if your father was going to kill. You know, slip some poison into our water or sink our ships on the way back to the border.
#
It took another week to get to Writer’s End. As Nero left Papertown they entered a city that they thought was an extension of Papertown but turned out to be an entirely different city. Papertown sat on the mouth of the Ink Run while the city; he thought Papertown turned out to be the third-largest city behind Papertown and Cannonville. Its name was Penpool, and after some inquiring in a local history book, it was created for the sole purpose of making Papertown smaller. The city sat on the fork of Ink Run and Chawbury River. It was originally a shanty town, but as housing prices in Papertown increased the middle class started to move into Penpool. The southern edge of the city contained mills and workshops that carried liters upon liters of what seemed to be ink. As Nero continued to look in the history book, he picked up he discovered that Penpool was the world’s leading producer in pen and ink manufacturing. It seemed the Expert’s Commonwealth had a severe lack of creativity when naming their cities.
When he arrived at Writer’s End, Nero paid the drivers the last share of the payment as they continued into the city. It was considerably smaller than Papertown or Penpool with 800,000 compared to their 5,000,000 combined. It didn’t seem like it as the streets were just as busy: wagons carried barrels of greenwood extract, which only reminded Nero of the greenwood poison, and builders laid green and white bricks on buildings under construction.
After asking many locals, they reached the address, and Nero walked up to the door. The building was the only house in the middle of the city. Everywhere else was made for apartments, but a cute little house stood in between two five-story apartment complexes. Nero knocked on the door, and shortly after an old woman answered the door. “Hello?” She asked.
“Hi,” Nero said nervously. “Is this the address for Raya Webster?”
Raya softly scoffed at Nero. “You’re Nero, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“I thought the scar would be worse.”
Nero wanted to correct her and say that the dragonvine wasn’t a scar, but by the time he could think of any words, Raya signaled over the drivers rudely blocking the road to unload Nero’s things.
They unloaded in silence as Nero couldn’t think of any conversation for the life of him and put all his stuff in a room that wasn’t much smaller than his chambers in the palace. However, it did appear much smaller as Nero not only took things out of his chambers but also the library.
When everything was finished, Nero said goodbye to the drivers and retreated inside Raya’s house. He was going to take his things out of the boxes and arrange them around his room, but before he could do that. Raya pressured him to have some tea first. “No, if I don’t unpack now, it will be harder later,” Nero said.
“It will just be for a second,” Raya said.
“No, I really think—”
“Come on; I’m an old woman. You wouldn’t want to make an old woman sad, would you?”
Nero sighed and went to the living room as Raya poured some green tea in the kitchen. Her home looked how one would expect an old woman’s home would look except for the busy city noises outside and the massive number of books that had her name on the spine. “You’re an author, right?” Nero asked.
“They don’t call it Writer’s End for nothing,” she said.
“When was the last book you wrote?” Nero asked as Raya walked in with the tea.
“I published my last one around a year ago,” she responded.
“Oh,” Nero responded in surprise. “Does it get harder at your age?” Nero tried to rephrase as his question came out harsher than expected, but Raya laughed it off.
“I am only sixty-five. I know I look nearly eighty but let us just say that my brain aged a lot slower than my skin.”
Nero gave out a nervous laugh as he tried to think of something else to talk about as he drank his tea. “How did you meet my mom?”
Raya took a sip of tea as she pondered the question. “I believe it started around twenty years ago when she invited me to an event in Gatherstorm. She was a fan of my work and wanted to introduce me to the crown.”
“Did you accept?”
“No, the trip wasn’t worth it. It was just a simple party, and besides I thought she would try to pressure me to write allegories that would make the Kingdom of Qar look better than it was. I was wrong though, as after I sent her a polite denial, she kept writing me asking questions about the books and manuscripts I was working on. I dared not respond to a royal, so we talked for a couple of years before she once again invited me to an event in Staff Harbor. I went, and we became good friends after that. We wrote to each other as much as possible and I talked to her in person every couple of years.”
Nero nodded along, and when she finished said: “I’m sorry that my father gave you the responsibility of housing me for the time being.”
Raya brushed it off. “Don’t worry about that; it is more than an honor to house a royal in my house.”
“Speaking of the house,” Nero said. “Why do you live here?”
“Why? Do you think my old ears can’t handle the noise?” she asked. Nero wanted to apologize, but Raya put up her hand as if she knew that Nero would try to make the situation less awkward. “No, it’s because my feet can’t handle walking that much. I’ve had many people over the years offer me great money for the house, but I won’t be able to find a place nearby that has the same amount of space.”
“How much?” Nero asked.
“That wouldn’t mean much to you. We don’t use gold over here. We use copper.”
“I know,” Nero said. “I haven’t been paying my drivers or the places I’ve been staying in gold, so I do have a baseline for the conversions.”
“100,000 copper.”
Nero didn’t respond. It turned out that his baseline was more off than he thought. Raya explained that copper was a lot more inflated than gold, which Nero already knew, but that didn’t explain the price.
“That was their final offer,” Raya continued to explain. “Most of the other lots in the area were bought for 100,000, but that probably isn’t a fraction of what the crown spends on their parties.”
“Trust me, I know,” Nero said. “I don’t know what you know about me, but I read quite a lot for a royal. Don’t let those parties fool you because I have seen the finances of the crown and we are in a lot of debt, which is probably why we haven’t had a party in a couple of months.”
“To whom are you indebted?” Raya asked.
“Everyone,” Nero responded. “I would suggest a solution, but my dad has already refused that offer many times when Gala suggested it. The parties are probably going to stay, and I don’t know what else to suggest. Economics isn’t my strong suit.”
“What is?” Raya asked.
Nero shrugged and winced. Every time he told someone outside the family, they gave them a strange look and offered a piece of advice. The advice was mostly to forget about such things and leave it up to the commoners. “Architecture, I really like architecture. Especially when it makes things cleaner.”
Raya took another sip of her tea. “Tell me more.”