Vol 6, Chapter 1

"How did this happen? How is it that out of the three top members of the delegation, two never returned?" the King asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Count Condor shook his head.

"Unknown so far. The new Commonwealth envoy and Count Klaus Nerd are already sailing here from the portal island. I'm sure they'll explain the situation."

"Then we go to the port. At once."

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◆ Capital of the Kingdom of Steel, Count Nerd Klaus's POV. ◆

When Nerd stepped off the ship, the port was already packed. Not only the King was there, but also a crowd of idle onlookers from the golden youth, eager to gawk and likely to ask where their leader, the Second Prince, had gone.

"Remember what you're supposed to say," the new Commonwealth envoy whispered, who by tradition had arrived to replace the old one.

Nerd flinched involuntarily and looked away.

The new envoy broke all expectations. He hadn't tried to grow a lush, gray beard with potions, nor did he wrap himself in robes. His outfit of blackened, finely worked leather looked more like light armor. Knotted muscles, cropped hair, scars across his face. He didn't just look like a thug—he was a thug.

The sailors moored the ship with professional ease and dropped the wooden gangplank.

As soon as the Count set foot on land, he felt the King's demanding gaze upon him.

"Count von Klaus, explain to me immediately what is happening. Now."

He opened his mouth, but not a word came out.

A wave of panic washed over him at the mere thought of what he had to say.

"Well?"

The Count kept gasping for air. He could already feel how displeased the thug was with his silence. The invisible tattoo on his back began to burn. But he kept quiet. Under the King's impatient stare, and the thug's expectant one.

"Perhaps we should ask the Ambassador. Where is he?" Count Condor tried to ease the tension.

"I'm the Ambassador," the thug said lazily.

Those gathered exchanged glances.

"Unusual. I mistook you for a bodyguard. Looks like the Commonwealth has run out of venerable old men?" The King joked nervously, but the envoy gave no reaction.

"Perhaps you'll introduce yourself?" the Count Condor broke the awkward pause.

"Autumn."

The name sounded more like a nickname. It likely was.

"Very well, Autumn," the old Condor began politely. "Now be so kind as to tell me where my grandson and the Second Prince are."

The thug glanced at the Count as if he were a bothersome fly.

"I'll speak to the King, not to you," he snapped, turning to the King. "I request a private audience, Your Majesty. The answer is not for prying ears."

"Such insolence!" Condor flared.

The tension grew. The King threw a suspicious look at Count Klaus; at first he wanted to hear his envoy's position, but the man acted as if struck mute.

In truth, the Commonwealth's safeguards had done their work—his tongue was numb and refused to move. The King was losing patience and could at any moment choose to hear the enemy instead.

At that moment, Klaus bit his tongue. For a brief instant, the pain cleared his head, helped him regain control.

Clenching his teeth, he forced out:

"Your Majesty, I can explain everything, but this is no matter for idle ears. This is a matter of state importance."

At that, the idle ears of the crowd pricked up eagerly.

"Fine. The port authority building will do."

All the workers were cleared out in an instant. The bowing port manager opened the doors for the King. The thug-like envoy tried to slip in behind them, but Condor blocked his way.

The door slammed shut.

The King sat down in the fish-reeking chair of the portmaster and fixed his expectant gaze on Count Klaus, who was once again struggling to regain control, fighting the Commonwealth's influence.

"Well? Cat got your tongue? You used to never shut up," the King demanded, losing the last of his patience. He was nervous. The envoy's strange behavior and the whole situation felt… troubling.

The King's glare bored into his head. Any moment now he might snap, start shouting, pounding his fist on the table.

Against his will, the Count felt frustration. If the King thought that after hours of mental torture one could just pull themselves together as if nothing had happened—he was wrong!

Every attempt to turn his thoughts in the right direction led to panic. Cold sweat streamed down his face, but the information was too important. Klaus had chewed his tongue raw, swallowing blood, but he still couldn't force the words out. And he knew why—the thug understood perfectly how critical the moment was, and was pressing down on him, draining his mind with the waves of panic planted by the Commonwealth's mentalists.

Klaus swallowed again. He couldn't get enough air. With a trembling hand he tried to unbutton his doublet to free his throat.

"Just say it already, stop stalling, damn you to the Abyss!" the King roared, slamming his fist on the table.

It had no effect on the Count. Compared to the horror he had endured, the King no longer frightened him in the slightest.

But what threatened their Kingdom did. And it terrified him far more.

"Perhaps… they are d-d-dead…"

A knock at the door.

"What now?" the King barked.

The new Commonwealth envoy slipped inside and shut the door right in Count Condor's hooked nose.

"I must offer my apologies."

"That's for certain," the King nodded.

"Apologies for indulging your envoy's whims. I'm afraid he abused alcohol far too much while he was our guest. It will not happen again."

"I don't care." Robert's full attention turned to the thug envoy. "What about my… delegates? My son?"

"For that too, I offer the Commonwealth's apologies. He left you a letter. Here."

The thug scratched the scar on his chin, opened his leather jacket, and pulled out an envelope. To be fair, he spoke far more eloquently than one would expect from his appearance. No surprise—the Commonwealth had sent all kinds to this post, but never a tongue-tied fool.

The King frowned, but took the letter in hand.

The magical seal was unmistakably that of the Second Prince.

Turning the envelope over in his hands, Robert tore it open. A short note fell onto the table:

"Father, I'll be delayed for two weeks. Don't miss me."

Robert checked the back of the note just in case, but it was blank. Typical of him.

"The little brat. He always spat on his duties," the King muttered, exhaling inwardly. At least now it was clear why Nerd had been so on edge—it was his responsibility to watch over the Prince.

"All right, the Prince is accounted for. But where is my second head of the embassy?"

"Perhaps… they're dead!" Nerd blurted out, eyes rolling in desperation.

"You should drink less, colleague. Such excessive indulgence might be too much for your heart to handle," the thug smirked.

The King eyed the letter suspiciously. Forging it would hardly be that diffic...

"I've already ordered the embassy staff to prepare a communication session. You'll be able to speak with your son personally very soon," the Commonwealth envoy cut in quickly.

"Fine, we'll discuss this after I speak with my son. Now tell me, what about Condor?" The King set the letter aside and steepled his fingers.

The thug winced inwardly. That Condor had turned out to matter more to the King than planned could ruin everything. Putting on a penitent expression, he delivered his rehearsed speech.

"I'm afraid a grave error was made on our part. The portal malfunctioned—we don't know exactly where the second head was transported. Search teams have already been dispatched. We acknowledge our fault and will try to compensate, for example with reduced tariffs and eased restrictions on artifact trade…"

"He's dead. He found out something, and now he's probably dead," Nerd declared, though with less conviction.

His mind was in chaos. He no longer understood—was the Prince dead? Alive? Was this all some elaborate game? What was really going on? Could he even trust Condor and his report? And if the Prince was dead, why was the Commonwealth acting like this?

Something was wrong—of that he was certain. Otherwise the investigators wouldn't have dragged him from his estate, ignoring diplomatic immunity. They wouldn't have washed his brain with waves of terror, training him like a dog, trying to convince him everything was fine. Something was definitely not fine. But what? He no longer knew what to believe. Who was dead, who alive?

The King frowned and held out his hand to his envoy.

"Give me your ring."

A gesture of distrust, stripping of office? Fighting the feeling that he had ruined everything, the Count slipped the ring from his trembling hand and placed it in the King's palm.

For several minutes the monarch sat still, eyes closed. His pupils darted beneath his lids as if he were seeing something invisible to others.

Finally he sighed in relief, opened his eyes, and set the ring on the table.

"All is well. Condor is in the Goblin Forest. However… tell me, have you established an unauthorized portal on the territory of my Kingdom?!" His voice trembled with veiled threat.

The thug barely kept a neutral expression. Damn it, Condor had to die before the King reached him! Or else he needed to invent something convincing… His stress-hardened mind quickly found an elegant way out.

"No, of course not, Your Majesty. We wouldn't dare! A portal can sometimes deposit someone in an unlinked location without receiving gates, but with a very high risk of side effects. Loss of sanity, scrambled memory, intrusive visions—even madness. We will immediately send search parties into the Goblin Forest. He must be brought to a healer at once. Again, we apologize for this situation."

"No need. I'll send my griffon knight. He'll bring him back to us in a few days. And if something happens to my envoy… you won't get away with mere tariff reductions on tomatoes."

The thug bowed deeply, hiding his unease. The message had to go out at once. But the Goblin Forest… a troublesome place. The nearest hidden portal was too far. Would they make it in time? Should he handle it personally? But that might jeopardize his mission here… Then again, the mission was already at risk.

"So be it. By the way, the communication session with the Prince should already be ready," the thug concluded.

Nerd, meanwhile, was utterly lost. Condor alive? Why in the forest? Was he a traitor? But if anyone knew what had truly happened, it was him.

"My King, you must speak with Condor. He definitely knows…"

"First we'll speak with my son. And you will come with us, Count von Klaus." The King turned the envoy's ring in his hand and slipped it into his pocket.

Nerd instantly realized he had lost the King's trust.

In the magical projection, the Prince looked real. The figure woven from beams of light gestured like him, spoke like him, but…

Nerd felt it wasn't him.

After all, the Count, saddled with the role of babysitter, had spent no less time with that insufferable brat than the King himself.

Behind their shouting and arguing? behind the King's demand to return, behind the Prince's rebellious refusal—there lurked something contrived. Artificial. Or maybe he'd gone mad from torture?

Time and again, the Count had to battle his own mind, which kept trying to convince him that everything was fine. He stared into the abyss of fear, reminding himself that no one would treat him like this if things truly were fine.

"You'll return immediately, I order you!"

"Father, I'll be back in a month. No sooner. Believe me, I have important matters."

"Two weeks. Be here, or I'll send the guard to fetch you!"

"Very well, Father. Wait for me. I'll return in two weeks."

The hologram flickered and vanished. The weary mages lowered their hands.

Summoning his courage, Nerd addressed the King.

"My King, didn't his behavior strike you as suspicious? Could it be a fake?"

Robert, still heated from arguing with the illusion, exploded.

"You presume too much, Count! You have failed—I ordered you to watch over my son and stop him from doing anything foolish, and what do I hear instead of repentance and apology? Drunken nonsense about forgeries? Do you think I wouldn't recognize my insufferable offspring? Have you forgotten who is King here? I AM KING HERE! Begone to your lands and never show yourself before me again! Be grateful I don't choose a harsher and fairer punishment for such a useless vassal!"

Seizing the moment, the thug quickly chimed in with oily flattery, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"Your Majesty, you are absolutely right. Subjects must not be allowed such laxity. I admire your wisdom and insight!"

The King nodded gravely, agreeing with the envoy.

It seemed only Nerd sensed the hidden mockery in his colleague's words. Damnation. The Count was more and more convinced the Prince was dead, but how could he convey that to the King, who clung to the Commonwealth's version and refused to hear anyone else?

Thank the One that Condor was alive—perhaps he could get through to him?

It seemed Nerd had failed.

Bowing, he left the hall. Count Condor met him along the way and asked something, but Nerd didn't hear. His thoughts churned only on one question… Why had the Commonwealth acted this way?

Of course, no one had told him what plan the Lodge followed. They merely tried to force him to support the version that everything was fine.

But if the Prince was dead… Suppose he truly was dead.

They could accuse him of the murder. Easily. They could find some way to smooth it over, even with political losses, but… Instead, they were stalling for time. Why? The longer they delayed acknowledging his death, the worse the consequences. They asked for two weeks…

What would happen in two weeks, when the deadline came?

A sharp pain stabbed his chest. His overstrained heart was failing.

No matter how he racked his brain, the Count could think of only one explanation.

"An attack before the loss of advantage."

If the Second Prince was dead, nothing could restore the shaken balance. That meant the Commonwealth would upend the board before the game turned against them. Before the Kingdom began leaning toward the Theocracy.

There would be war. Perhaps the invasion was already being prepared.

These thoughts seemed insane—impossible. Simply impossible.

Yet he could find no other reason. Couldn't understand why else… Had he lost his mind?

The Count stopped, wavering, tempted to run back, to raise the alarm. Even if he made himself look mad, but…

But what would that change? Who would believe him? The King?

Certainly not. He refused to believe even in his son's death. He would never believe an invasion was coming.

Then another path was needed. The local lords had to be warned. Border barons, officers, lesser nobles…

His heart stabbed harder, his vision clouded with mist.

He was forced to stop, leaning against the wall.

It grew worse. Darkness crept into his eyes.

He slid down the wall slowly.

A passing servant bent over him, saying something. But through the piercing ringing in his ears, he heard nothing.

"A healer…" the Count whispered with uncooperative lips, though he knew it was useless. If the plan was truly what he feared… If an invasion was being prepared, the Commonwealth would never allow someone who suspected and might warn others to live.

The world sank into darkness. Only the beating of his heart remained, like the drums of coming war.

Then even that fell silent.