Alchimia Rex (078 & 79)(Volume Start)

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[078] [Balance] (Volume Start)

The room was cramped, the air stuffy, and there was a lingering scent of ammonia that Rick had long since gotten used to. They were still perfecting how to get rid of the scent from clothes. So far vinegar and water was the only approximation to a solution, but he was still looking for a good source of sodium carbonate. It was the price of trying to set-up a proper production chain rather than having to do everything in batches… there had been a fair number of leaks and mistakes.

Which, unfortunately, meant that Rick could only feel mild pity and embarrassment at the way the young Centaur was trying not to visibly grimace at the smell.

Better get this over with.

He raised the ceremonial spear, mentally following the steps Dia had hastily walked him through earlier that day while dunking vinegar water on his head. “Henceforth your first name is Rosalind. I welcome you to my service.”

From a purely medical point of view, Rosalind’s transformation from human to Centaur could be nothing short of a marvel. Having a body metamorph to turn a pair of human legs and lower torso into a full grown horse? Nothing short of a miracle by any standards of his world. The fact that it took a couple weeks and didn’t involve the girl screaming herself hoarse every day was no less fascinating. On the other hand, the whole process looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

Even though Rick had been assured it was only uncomfortable rather than painful, he’d decided this was one aspect of the world he’d leave in Dia’s hands. So he kept a healthy distance from the medical center until it had finished.

With a soft tap to Rosalind’s shoulders, he waited for her to rise up until her head was nearly brushing against the ceiling.

“The name is that of a scientist.” Rick paused, eyes lingering on the horse portion of the body that’d been covered by a tarp, and quickly averting back up to her carefully neutral expression. “A very important scholar from the world I come from,” he quickly clarified. “Wear the name well and do it proud.”

“Yes, my Lord!” Her voice trembled, eyes revealing complicated emotions for a brief moment.

The bond clicked into place like two magnets that got a bit too close to one another. Rick hid the grimace at the mild dizziness that swept through him. “Rise.” Every new bond felt like he’d hurried to lift  something heavy. He was nearly out of breath, swaying on the spot for a few seconds until it had passed.

Rosalind looked just as winded, wobbling on her hoofs, dazed. Her eyes were unfocused as she squirmed slightly, blinking rapidly, equine ears falling flat and tail flicking idly. When her focus came back, the way she looked at him had changed, there was something else in that gaze, as if seeing something that she’d missed until now.

Looking up at her, Rick felt that familiar mild sense of empathy kicking in. The bond wasn’t strong, but already he could more easily recognize the complicated swirl of emotions within her. There was a lot of nervousness and fear there, as well as a twinge of bittersweet pride, and something else… the moment their eyes met again, Rosalind took half a step towards him, and stopped.

“Uh.” The maiden swallowed, taking a step back, hoof clopping against the wooden floor.

“The first bond is always an experience in itself, and the Lord possesses a stronger bond than most.” Kiara stepped forward, placing a soft touch on the girl’s hip. “It will get easier, with time. Breathe.” Her lips curled slightly. “Think of protecting your Lord, of his safety. It should help you define the boundaries of the bond’s touch.”

The Centaur nodded quickly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. This time she grimaced, snorting loudly.

“I think it’s best we get this done. I’m gonna need a couple more showers before I go home.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Or else Monica’s going to throw me into the sea again.”

Upon his words, the Succubus rolled her eyes and stepped away from Rosalind, handing him the purple cloth from within the many folds of her dress. Rick nodded mildly, waiting for the Centaur to come back to her senses.

“Since you were bedridden during the end-of-summer festival, I thought it apt to bring you this.” He presented the cloth to her. “Have it, wear it if you please.”

Rosalind looked down at the cloth, swallowing hard and blinking fast. This time a tear did run down her cheek, trembling hands grasping the cloth. “Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered under her breath, tying it around her neck and bowing as best as she could within the cramped space.

A moment of awkward silence followed.

Behind him, Kiara coughed to draw attention once more. “Eli, please take Rosalind and guide her to her living quarters.”

The Hound bowed from the entrance of the room. “At once, my Lady.” She beckoned the Centaur to follow her.

Rosalind’s eagerness to follow helped give them all the excuse they needed to step outside into actual fresh air. Rick watched the Centaur go, the tarp just barely short enough to not get in the way of her equine legs. He could feel Kiara’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. But the icy coldness in her eyes was gone the moment he’d turned her way.

“I really don’t like this whole naming business,” he said.

“If this kingdom allowed freedom for maidens, then perhaps she’d name herself,” the Succubus replied with a warm tone, snatching his arm as they walked out. To any observers, Kiara appeared as if a loving wife showing affection to her husband. The reality was that Rick could almost feel the blood flow to his hand getting cut off by the squeeze of her fingers. “Though in some places, to threshold is considered sacred, such as the clans in the Sapphire tundra. It’s in the far reaches north of the Seven Dynasties. Over there, a human who’s thresholded is deemed as something akin to both minor nobility and priesthood… the concept doesn’t translate well.”

“It’s hard to think there’s so much of a world out there when it’d take literal years to get anywhere,” Rick muttered.

“It would depend on your method of transport. I rarely rushed anywhere.” Her hold on his arm softened marginally.

It was important to keep appearances. Kiara’s status as a Succubus had been kept from the broader public. Rick was a bit surprised it’s remained secret this long. The tribe was aware of what she was, but nothing had been leaked as of yet as far as he could tell. In all likelihood, she’d recruited Urtha in the endeavor of convincing everyone to keep their mouths shut.

How long that incentive would remain was another thing entirely. Rick was still trying to figure out what sort of damage control they’d have to go through to tackle the problem if it became public knowledge.

His gaze drifted up to the cloudy sky. The last bits of warmth of summer still lingered in the breeze.

“Next on my dear husband’s very busy agenda would be some mediation.” Kiara purred the words, her tone was suggestive, the way she leaned closer and kissed his cheek a perfect depiction of affection.

Her eyes were still drilling holes into his skull whenever he wasn’t looking.

Maybe he should bump priority on figuring her out. Kiara had been getting better at obstructing the bond’s ability to transfer emotions as of late, which made her harder to read. He could only catch bits and pieces, annoyance seemed the most predominant thing pouring out of her as of late.

But as with anything regarding Kiara, direct questions rarely got answers. “What’s the problem this time?” If it was something that had been tossed his way, then it was likely something pertaining to both tribe and city.

Kiara’s grip loosened ever so slightly, returning sensation to his hand. “One of the young Orcs found herself a husband. The boy in question has some thoughts about the matter.”

“Ah.” Crud. “Any injured?”

After the festival, the young Orcs had been looking for partners. And though most had found willing if hesitant participation amongst the citizens of Sinco, a few… hadn’t. The issue was a delicate one. Throwing them at Arietta or giving some blanket statement would see the tribe up in arms in quick order. So Rick was now in the position of having to mediate those encounters since he was the Father of the tribe.

It all boiled down to having to convince a brat with the strength to demolish a house in under sixty seconds, that no, she couldn’t just waltz into the bakery and claim the baker was to be her husband henceforth.

Apparently this kind of conflict was amusing for Kiara though. She began to hum. “What are your thoughts on the matter, I wonder.” Her voice carried light, but he could sense an edge hidden somewhere in her tone. “You’ve pushed for the tribe to acknowledge divorce, but what if it’s you? What would you do with a maiden you don’t want or need?”

This was new. Kiara had been mostly avoiding conversation as of late. Though he wasn’t entirely sure if her current mood was the cause for that. “Can I have more information to go on?”

“It’s a simple enough question.” She eyed him coldly. “Let’s say you have a Centaur, give her a nice warm stable or whatever. But you never need to go anywhere. What’s more, you insist you’d never want to take her on a ride. What then?”

Rick cocked his head. “Is this about Rosalind?”

He glanced over his shoulder at their tail. The Orc bodyguards kept a respectful distance, seeming more interested in conversing with one another than paying them any mind. Even though Kiara had claimed to be weakened, there wasn’t really much that could get close to them without her noticing.

“Might as well use the horse for this hypothetical.” Her fingers dug into his arm again, making him flinch. “Let’s assume you never want to ride Roselind. It’s not just that you don’t want to ride her specifically, but that you’d rather she never get to galop about the place. What’s more, you’ve got a better Centaur sitting her fat ass somewhere.” Her brown eyes betrayed a flicker of gold. “What do you do then? What happens to this poor little girl?”

It felt like she was trying to lead him towards claiming things would be better without this hypothetical maiden. Rick dismissed the thought, though focused on trying to get Kiara to keep talking. “It’d depend on what she wants.”

“She wants to take you on rides, obviously,” she quickly proclaimed, rolling her eyes. “But in this hypothetical you don’t want that.” She used her free hand to make a vague dismissive gesture. “Something about the whole act does not sit well with this hypothetical boring version of you.”

“Where are you going with this?” he mused out loud. “I don’t think I can imagine a straightforward answer.” He could probably formulate a response, but Rick had the distinct impression Kiara was trying to get some sort of commitment out of him.

For what, he wasn’t sure.

Gold eyes scrutinized him for several seconds. “It’s about the Orc, and how they see themselves.”

She lied. Rick could sense it in her tone, like it was a deflection in some way. But he wasn’t sure if she knew he could sense that, and calling her out on it wouldn’t help. “Elaborate?”

“A poor little boy doesn’t want the attention or company of this big strong Orc. He has no need for her either, with the thick walls all over the place.” Kiara finally released his arm, looking away. “Meanwhile, despite all her power, the Orc needs the boy.”

Going off of her words alone, there were several people ‘he didn’t need but kept around’ by her standards, but none of them really fit into the criteria of ‘him not wanting them’. “And this hypothetical Orc can’t have anyone but this one boy?”

Her lips drew thin. “Yes.”

Rick stopped walking and shot her a rueful smirk. “I’d say the hypothetical Orc’s needs go above the hypothetical boy’s preferences.”

Kiara’s eyes narrowed, staring at him with intense scrutiny, looking for something. Whatever it is she found, she relaxed, glancing away. “Is that so? Will you rule in favor of the tribal, then?”

“Dunno.” He began walking again, waving her off. “I’d need more information first.”

She sighed, shoulders dropping. Whatever her intentions had been, they hadn’t panned out. The Succubus glared for another moment before she shook her head. “It has become harder of late to remember you detest hypotheticals.”

“I don’t detest them, I just don’t like people using them as some sort of trap.” He replied with a scowl. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate on the point, letting go of his arm and turning her attention forward. It took her a minute to break the silence. “Do you know of the golden scale?”

“Either something relating to laws or commerce?” he ventured.

“No, not really.” Her voice had taken a distant tone to it, as if she was lost in thought. “It’s a term that was used by Horace Folta a few centuries ago. It’s in reference to maidens.”

“Never heard of the guy.”

“He was a merchant with some philosopher blood in him.” Her lips curled with a half-smirk. “After visiting a fair number of places, he proposed the golden scale as a tool to better understand societies and cultures.”

Rick kept quiet, waiting for her to continue.

“He had a lot of hot air, talked too much. The short of it is that he proposed that the available number of bonded maidens will always tend towards the number of available bonds.” The tone had shifted towards something whimsical. “The golden scale is used to categorize what happens when that limit is reached.”

“Oh, so it’s like a political compass?” he wondered. “Just something meant to give a general idea of where something falls in terms of ideology compared to other things.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t appear entirely invested in figuring out what he meant, turning her attention to the road again. She held out her hand flat, then tilted it to the left. “On one side is the hard limit. The moment you reach the maximum number of bonds you stop. No more maidens added, and if they are, then it’s because someone was kicked out.” She tilted her hand to the right. “On the other side is the soft limit. Maidens get cycled around. They put their collar, make the bond, break the bond, pass it over to the next one in line. This way you can have a handful of maidens with just one collar, but they’re all teetering on the edge.”

Rick cocked his head a little. “Doesn’t seem very stable.”

“Both of them are very unstable within their respective contexts.” Kiara kept her pace steady. “Hard limits means a single human death can translate to eight maidens going irrevocably feral. Soft limits means any maiden that slips up gets claimed by the curse.”

“I doubt a city would reach the limit of actually available bonds,” he retorted, thinking back to the tribe. The humans there had been able to awaken more than a fair share of feral maidens the Vampires had locked up.

“No, of course not. There’s always wiggle room, it’s what prevents one disaster from becoming three,” she said in response. “But that doesn’t mean the golden scale is useless. Every nation has faced the dilemma at some point or another, and their culture has built itself around their respective answers to that.”

Rick mused on that. As far as he’d been able to tell, the kingdom leaned on the harder side. “The closer the hard rule applies, the more maidens are seen as property?”

“Sometimes.” Kiara shrugged. “It’s more like the harder on the scale you go, the tighter control. Be that human or maiden on top.” She eyed him for a moment, there was that sharpness in her eyes again. “As a ruler, you should be aware of this framework at the very least.”

He hid the inner grimace at the proclamation.

If he had any say on the matter, he’d be out of “office” and mucking around in the lab. Though adding democratic features to the whole thing helped keep any opposition from coalescing under a single hat, it would also hopefully let him phase himself out eventually.

“And where do you figure I fall on those scales?”

“You’re the personification of the hard end. The ideal form of it, actually. Horace would’ve had a fit had he met you.” Kiara declared mirthfully. “Forming a bond with you is easy, but breaking it is not. I fully expect that when you reach your limit, it’ll stop being a grab-all position to throw around.”

“And you and Horace…?”

She snorted, the first honest hint of mirth in a week as she rolled her eyes. “Jealous?”

“Mostly asking since the guy seems important.”

“Only if you’re a pedantic philosopher.” She shook her head, making the hat she wore wobble a little. “What you might be interested in is the military applications of the scales.”

“Philosophical and political frameworks that have actual utility?”

“Shocking, I know.” Kiara waved him off. “The bond has a range to it, a limit to how far it can stretch. A maiden can only go so far before it snaps. And once it’s gone, they have only a handful of days before the curse is too powerful to fight off.”

“Which means humans need to travel along, and…” He cocked his head. “And it’d be stupid to send more humans than absolutely necessary. You create an artificial situation where every possible bond is put to use.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “It’s not unheard of for a campaign to begin with the soft model, and to shift to the harder one as maiden casualties rise and morale dwindles.” Her smile became predatory. “Nothing motivates a maiden to fight harder than having the bond kick them into action because loss would mean their human’s death.”

“Ah.”

Rick slowed his steps for a moment, turning northward, to the forest. From where they stood it was hard to spot, but he could still imagine himself looking through the buildings and through the walls. The destruction from the fires was mostly repaired, but the thought still left a heavy feeling inside.

The fight had taken a lot out of everyone.

“Personally, I want that Pinielf’s head on a pike.” He spoke coldly, frowning. “But is it the right move?”

Every time he thought of the madwoman that had made the parasitic plant, his blood felt like it would boil. By every measure, if he had a button that would off her, he would’ve pressed it in a heartbeat. Yet every time he thought of what it might take to bring an end to her, he couldn’t help but think back to the deaths.

It had all been so vivid, the image of those final moments of life slipping through his fingers as his thoughts screamed for the safety of the Lord. The memories weren’t his own, he knew this logically, but it didn’t stop them from appearing in his nightmares from time to time. Could he send others to the same fate without hesitation? Would the cost be worth it?

“We both know we can’t just sit idle and wait for another attack,” Kiara declared with a glare. “The risk is too great that if or when she returns, she’ll do so with overwhelming force.”

“If you say ‘whatever the cost’, I’ll scream at you.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the troubling thoughts. “The more I think about it, the less we have.”

The part that truly undermined his confidence in any plan involving Pinielf hunting was that they didn’t know where to look. The forest was practically a third of the kingdom in size. The terrain was massive, and there was no feasible way for him to raze it all to the ground… no matter how much he wanted to. And there were monster trees deeper in there, each of them the size of skyscrapers and laughing in the face of physics.

He remembered those monsters well. It’d been where he and the others had crashed landed into this world, after all.

Going into the forest meant being on the receiving end of guerilla warfare. They didn’t have resources they could afford to bleed out, and a whole lot of their focus was on building fortifications.

Because the kingdom could come knocking. It was another horror-show waiting to happen.

“It’s your decision, in the end.” Kiara’s tone held something hard within it, barely hidden under the aloof amusement. “But maybe the little birds bring good tidings.”

“The what now?”

Her only answer was to point to the northwest.

All he could see were gray rolling clouds all over the place, until he noticed a shimmer of light high above. It came from a group of five black dots that were approaching. The shimmering paused once, then came back, and then paused again. Rick was vaguely aware it was a way to communicate intentions, as well as show they weren’t feral. But that was about as far as his understanding of the procedure went.

From directly above them, one of the Neigix that’d been circling over the city began to descend. Her uniform was militia, and he was vaguely certain they were bonded since he could catch mild tension as she approached them.

“My Lord!” The maiden called out, landing well away from them, making sure the Orc bodyguards were between herself and Rick. “Our messengers have returned. Two Darkton knights are with them.”

He didn’t swear, this was more or less what they’d expected would happen when they sent out Dia’s medical report on the plant parasite. Aubria was the nearest city worth mentioning, and it was the Darkton’s home turf. Thorley being one of the minor figures that had been sent to Sinco to keep the mining city on a leash.

“We’ll greet the knight at the beach. Prepare something hot for the messenger, we’ll talk to them afterwards.” Rick rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at the dots, estimating it would take roughly a couple hours before they got to the city. “Let’s hope they take well to the news of Thorley’s death.”

Kiara grinned, the smile positively feral. “I’ll get the gifts.”

--

[079] [Messenger (Sarina)]

Something had gone terribly wrong in Sinco.

Being told to look out for vampires in Sinco was a big warning sign of the state of things. But even without that, there could be no other reason the minor court of Aubria would have otherwise sent Sarina and her squire to the tiny mining city near the coast. Why else would they send a Valkyrie as a messenger? She was meant to be the tip of the spear in any charge, to break through the enemy’s shield and shatter their spirits.

In the city of Aubria, her role was to be the looming hammer overhead. When she met with the underbelly, she was there as a reminder of who was in charge. Because while she wasn’t the most powerful knight, she was a Valkyrie.

And a Valkyrie never stopped until the task was done.

That she was going to Sinco boded poorly.

There had been a flurry of barely disguised panic upon the reception of a report from the city. Sarina hadn’t been given many details, only that there was a parasitic plant that had driven the ferals into a frenzy. But the things that the report said were not the cause for concern, it was the things that weren’t said. Such as the report lacking Lord Thorley’s signature. Such as the lack of reports on the state of Sinco.

Sarina suspected the court had not expected this, in the same way you wouldn’t expect a house you lit on fire to be destroyed by a flash flood.

It was no secret the Aubrian court and Thorley were at odds. Why else would they have put the Darkton whelp in Sinco and then sidelined him? Most likely it had to do with the head of the family’s heir seeing his cousin as a reasonable threat to his position. Unfortunately for Aubria, Thorley had used his position as a supplier of elemental stones to coerce concessions. No one had been happy about that, and Sarina had suspected at the time someone’s head would roll.

And now here she was, having been thrown into this messenger mission with barely any time to prepare for it. The fact that no one had bothered to clarify why she should keep an eye out for vampires was worse, though. The implications as to why she’d received such a warning were staggering to say the least.

Four days trailing behind the messengers. The Neigix had done a damnably good job of dropping their message and rushing away as fast as possible. Sarina and Lyri could reach them if they pushed themselves, but doing so would've left them exhausted and open to a potential ambush. Thus, they'd done the next best thing: slowly catch up.

Now that Sinco was in view, Sarina was trying to figure out exactly what had happened since the last time she’d seen it.

“There are a lot of orcs down there,” Lyri said nervously.

Sarina squinted but didn’t comment. Her eyesight was far worse than the Angel’s when it came to distances. Her focus was elsewhere, mainly, playing the part of spy and messenger at the same time was going to be grating. To make it worse, Lyri hadn’t reached a point where she could protect herself from esoteric forms of mental intrusion. So, there were details she couldn’t be made privy to.

Like how any sighted Orcs were to be assumed allied with Vampires, Sarina would’ve given her left tit for answers about where the information had come from and how trustworthy it might be.

“They’re digging fortifications,” she commented as they approached. Even from this distance, she could spot the trenches scattered in geometric patterns, with rock being laid deep underground. It would’ve looked as if the city were attempting to expand past its walls. But not even half the chimneys had smoke in them, so she doubted that was the case.

“Should we drop our bond-keeper somewhere safe?”

Sarina pondered on that. The human was ultimately trash that was being paid to bond them and keep them from going feral during the trip. He’d behaved during the trip, acting his part of being little more than a sack of flour. “I don’t want to risk it, we need our heads clear,” she ultimately decided. Better to come at this with their full mental acuity than potentially struggling against the feral curse.

If worse came to worst, they could break their bonds and escape.

There was also a risk of ferals, but neither of them had seen so much as a whiff for the past day. The feral rush had been thorough; perhaps the report about the parasitic plant had more heft to it than she’d originally thought. If that was the case, then perhaps the road between Sinco and Aubria would become far safer for the next few years.

The closer they got, the less recognizable the city was.

The fortress in the center of it was gone, replaced by an entirely flat and empty plaza. Similarly, most houses were made out of wood, which was as clear a sign as any that deep devastation had swept across its streets very recently. “The walls are intact,” Sirrana commented with a frown.

Having the city destroyed but the walls still standing was unnerving. The destruction clearly couldn’t have been the ferals. The Orcs, perhaps? If that was the case, then had they unleashed devastation after entering the city through false pretenses… or had they just gotten over it? Neither thought was reassuring.

“Keep an eye out for blood energy,” Sarina instructed as they got closer, dipping their path nearer to the ground. The other option was that the Vampires might have opened the gates for the tribals.

Even if they hadn’t, if there were Vampires in the city, then no doubt they’d be using their powers to keep the population in check. Their rituals were known to be able to push their victims into panic, an effective tool to sow discord and control a city. A tool that left easily identifiable traces that could linger around for months, if you knew what to look for.

Sarina wasn’t certain whether the lack of any such sign was good or not. It raised more questions than it answered, and it didn’t confirm whether there were Vampires running Sinco or not, just that none of them had done anything overt.

“Two humans in the… wow,” Lyri’s eyes widened until it seemed her eyes might pop out. “The beach, look at the beach!”

Sarina spotted two humans near the shore. The area had been cleared out and left empty on purpose. It was an ideal location to land, with enough open space and a potential viable escape towards the sea. The invitation was clear, though the feeling it was a trap was just as strong.

Not that they had many options.

The woman raised far more alarms.

The blue-haired woman was dressed head to toe in purple, imperial purple. There was so much of it! She might as well have decked herself in gold! Sarina forgot herself for a moment, overshooting her arc as she tried to take in the regal figure. For a moment she suspected trickery, and nearly dared to send out a pulse of power to confirm it wasn’t an illusion, never mind that it would’ve been a sign of impending combat to any nearby maiden.

Whatever was going on, they couldn’t just stay aloft gawking at the woman.

Sarina folded her wings and dove first, boots crunching against the sand. Behind her, Lyri landed more carefully, making sure to take an escape-ready position. As strong as a Valkyrie might be, neither of them had any intention of sticking around if things got ugly.

The mission priority was to get back and report to the Aubrian court.

“Who are you?” the Angel asked first, completely breaking any semblance of protocol or propriety.

The woman in the dress laughed, her voice ringing like bell chimes. “A little forward, this one, isn’t she? I am Kiara, Lady of this city.”

“Oh, excuse me… uh…”

Sarina took the reins. “We are knights.” She bowed in a show of minimal courtesy for someone of the Lady’s station. Her focus was on scrutinizing the woman, trying to figure her out. She couldn’t feel any traces of energy from her, so it was hard to believe she was a maiden. “We bring a message from Duke Darkton for his nephew. Is Lord Thorley available?”

The question was not for the sake of confirming whether Thorley was dead or not, but for the sake of propriety. If Thorley were alive, he’d be on the beach right now. But Sarina couldn’t start this interaction as if he actually was.

“No, he isn’t. My husband is the current Lord of Sinco.” The Lady made a gesture at the man next to her. “Lord Richard Cross.”

Both maidens only now turned to glance at the human who had been standing in the background. He was a stark contrast to Kiara. His clothes were humble, muted, practical. His expression and posture were neutral. The man’s face revealed nothing, and… Sarina’s nose curled. Was that the smell of urine?

She would’ve doubted Kiara’s claim about the importance of the man if not for the fact that the truth detection pendant hadn’t gone off. It meant that, in all likelihood, this was indeed a trap of some sort. Perhaps they’d taken a hoodlum and proclaimed him Lord of the city just for the sake of this conversation. And if that wasn’t the case… Sarina didn’t much like where this might lead.

“And… what happened to Lord Thorley?” She turned her attention back to the apparent noblewoman. Sarina’s thoughts were turning, trying to figure out what was going on. Blue hair was a clear sign of maiden ancestry, yet the woman had a presence to her that just couldn’t be ignored. The same kind Sarina had seen amongst royals. Was she foreign nobility, then? What was she doing here of all places? How had she reached Sinco without raising a storm in Aubria along the way?

The only possibilities were that she had hid herself… or came here through other means than the one road.

“Sentenced to death, for conspiring with vampires.” Kiara’s response knocked every thought out of Sarina’s head into the sand.

The very first instinct to cross Sarina’s mind was to draw her blade then and there. To kill a noble, even under justifiable circumstances, was a grave sin. Only the King had the authority, and not even then would it be without repercussions. Thorley might not have been an important piece within the Darkton household, but he was a Darkton.

Next to her, Lyri had frozen in place, the squire looking at her leader, waiting for confirmation that this was the time to take action.

With a moment to calm her thoughts, she held back the impulse. Her mission came first; she could not come back empty-handed. Every scrap of information was crucial; this was not her war, not yet.

“That… is a very heavy accusation,” Sarina spoke tentatively. “Was there proof?”

Too many questions were exploding through her. It shouldn’t be possible that Thorley had conspired with vampires. A part of her was certain Aubria would’ve taken measures against such a possibility, but then again, how did they know about vampires being in Sinco?

The male was the one to speak up and answer. “He sold out hunters and knights that weren’t too happy with him locking down the city and keeping all the food. Threw them as a snack to the blood-suckers.” Rick stepped closer to his wife, looking them over. “The Orc tribe was under their control at the time and took them in as slaves. When we conquered the tribe, we asked around. Then we confirmed it with Thorley while in the presence of a truth-detecting artifact.”

Sarina’s pendant didn’t so much as twitch, she kept the grimace inward. This did not look good at all. If there were at least some other confirmed noble in Sinco…

“And… Thorley’s death?”

Rick stepped closer. “I executed him.” His expression hadn’t changed, his tone hadn’t changed; it was an unreadable wall. Black eyes looked upon them as if neither maiden really stood there. “It was painless, just one swing. The city cheered.”

Sarina’s lips drew thin. “Under what authority?” Her tone was cold, her wings tightened behind her, ready to push her forward.

“I’m an otherworlder. The decision was my own, though I’m led to believe the laws of this place put me directly under the king’s authority? I didn’t really get much of a chance to ask.” Rick smiled, a feral show of teeth. “Earl Vittchat told me about how the laws about people like me were mostly inherited from the Northern Empire, but otherwise kept untouched due to how rare otherworlders are.”

The pendant didn’t move.

Sarina’s blood ran cold. She wanted to rage, to flare out, to attack them then and there. She wanted to cut them to ribbons and bathe in their blood as she sent Lyri back to fulfill their mission and inform Aubria. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t because she knew this was exactly what they wanted from her. A messenger attacking the lord of a city was a quick way to start trouble.

It would put Aubria in a very bad spot if it were brought up in the royal court.

There was no other explanation for the tactic. Her eyes shifted between the two humans, and she tried to sense anything nearby. There were no maidens as far as she could tell, which was bad. If they were goading her to attack, and she couldn’t sense any maiden, then it meant whatever protections they had in place outclassed her own capabilities to find them.

Was Kiara a maiden? Was Rick? Was there something lurking nearby, invisible? Sarina’s jaw tightened, her molars complaining from the pressure. Maybe they were both just obvious sacrifices, left entirely helpless for the sake of the true mastermind.

It would've been so much easier if this were a battlefield.

Fortunately, Sarina had learned a few tricks over the years. If your enemy wanted you to attack, all you had to do was… not. “I must apologize.” She forced herself to relax, forced herself to bow, forced herself to swallow her anger. Next to her, Lyri let out a strangled sound of indignation, but one she kept in place. “This was surely a poor introduction. My name is Veronica.”

The tingling from her pendant confirmed the truth-detection still worked. At least that much was still reliable. It would have to work as her shield, no matter how impossible to believe everything else was.

“Hm?”

Kiara’s questioning sound betrayed that she too possessed some form of truth detection. Sarina kept pushing forward, no hope to turn back now. Best to assess the full scope of the situation, minimize collateral, and run back to report. The mission was what mattered. It was not her place to put Aubria in a weakened position.

Which meant she had to pretend to respect their authority.

Her insides roiled at the thought of it.

But it was her duty. “The Darktons seek to reestablish trade, now that the feral rush is over and the road is safe for travel.” Sarina bowed deeper. “We verified its condition during our journey here. It's rough, but serviceable. There are already plans to repair the damage.”

The male considered her for a moment. “Sure, done. We’ll have the mines reopened since we were a bit too busy fighting ferals for a while there.”

She could sense his gaze on the back of her head. Sarina could only hope her adherence to propriety would chafe. Sarina waited for his next move, allowing the silence to serve her as a tool to pressure them.

“Ah, I think Aubria will appreciate the silk,” Kiara spoke with a delighted purr. “Yasir made this delightful dress. No doubt the nobles of the kingdom would want such a beautiful purple. Beautiful, isn't it?”

Sarina’s neck was stiff enough that raising her head was an effort. She looked at the noblewoman and tried not to focus too hard. The dress was indeed beautiful, but the silk had been dyed so perfectly, and the woman was so graceful, that she could have worn a silk sack and still made it appear worthy of the king.

“Actually, we prepared a present for your masters.” She clapped twice, glancing at one of the Orcs at the edge of the city.

The warrior reached behind herself, lifted a metal box roughly large enough to fit a torso, and approached unarmed. Sarina stared, waiting for whatever trap might lie therein, her hand against the pommel of her sword. Lyri was no less tense, her wings spread and ready to take off with their bond-holder at the slightest sign of trouble.

Their tension wasn’t respectful by any measure, but it didn't infringe on minimum courtesy. That was as far as Sarina would allow herself to go.

Rick moved closer to them, entirely uncaring that he was now within striking distance. He made a shooing motion at the Orc as she dropped the box, and he opened it to reveal the contents within. “What do you think?”

What Sarina was thinking was that she could cut him down. And that he was this close, this calm, this unflinchingly amused, meant that she should not. It was so blatant and open an invitation to attack that it made every hair on her body stand on edge. Where was the threat? How could he possibly trust he wouldn't come to harm!?

“I can make three times this much every week or so, probably faster if we put some elbow grease into it.” He took a cloth from within the box, a purple sash with a golden symbol embroidered onto it. The human stepped closer, holding it out to her. Holding it out to her while standing so close she could decapitate him without taking a step. “Here, you can wear it if you want.”

She’d sooner cut her own arm off. Instead, she put up an icy grin. “Thank you,” she declared through gritted teeth, snatching the thing from his hand.

There had not been a single lie uttered by the man. Sarina knew that the details of his claims would have been earth-shattering under any other circumstance. The metal box had enough purple silk to leave a common farmer well-off for the remainder of their life. Three times that every week? Even a nobleman’s mouth would water at the idea.

Rick was trying to coax Aubria into not making a move.

Aubria was already deemed the heart of the kingdom when it came to its enchantments. But this? The ability to produce purple dye at ridiculous volumes? It would make their reach stretch far outside the borders, all the way to the Northern Empire! That kind of promise was being used to make the Aubrian court hesitate.

Sarina could see how greed would taint honor, she could even see the sense in the idea. Why wouldn't Aubria strike peace with this upstart monster? Why wouldn't it sell its honor for the chance at having economic power that could span the continent? Why wouldn’t they seek out the otherworlder’s benevolence and find out what other gifts he might be willing to share?

And every day they stalled, arguing over whether or not to make a move, it would be a day where those fortifications outside the city would grow larger. Every moment Sarina stalled, the less able the Darktons would be to react. They needed to bring the news to the court immediately.

“We will make sure to bring this gift to our masters.” The Valkyrie’s proclamation was prompt. Stepping towards the metal box, she gave Lyri a meaningful look.

With a nod, they both took off. They would need to hurry back… and hope that honor would trump greed in Aubria’s court.

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