Blades of Ashes - 1. Chapter 1

Arc 1: The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

Chapter 1 -1

The air was rife with the scent of burning wood, baking bread, fried fish, and fresh wood shavings. All of it mixed in the wind, but the baker crossing the cobbled street paid no mind to these mixed scents. He was used to them, having worked in the busy markets of the capital city, Genad, all his life. Instead, he hurried into the exchange bureau with a spring in his step.

The baker carried four bags filled with silver from his baking shop to the first empty counter and smiled at the attendant.

“I want to turn these into gold denaris.”

“One gold denari is at twenty-five silvers.”

“Wasn’t it twenty yesterday?”

“You can thank the finance minister for the change,” the attendant said. “Do you want to make the exchange?”

The baker studied his bags of silver for a minute, then nodded and pushed the bags to the attendant. He needed the gold denaris to purchase the land his wife wanted for their home. They had worked a year and a half to save the silver. They made periodic exchanges with the bureau so that they would be able to pay the land broker.

“Yes, I’ll make the exchange,” the baker said with a soft sigh.

He had no choice. Their land broker had insisted on gold denaris.

The attendant took the silver bags and started counting them.

The baker felt a tight string of anxiety rise when the attendant pulled out a weighing machine. This was the first time this had happened. As though sensing his surprise, the attendant glanced at him and smiled.

“We have no choice these days,” the attendant said. “The silver coins have a problem. We need to weigh them to make sure they are not forged.”

The baker frowned but did not move to leave. He watched the attendant start weighing his silver. His frown deepened when the attendant pushed ten of his twenty silvers aside. The rejected pile grew larger, and it could fill its own bag.

“Why won’t you use these silvers?” the baker asked, his voice shaking with fury and anxiety.

“They are not silver coins,” the attendant said. “The weight of these rejected coins is too light. They do not have enough silver to be considered for exchange.”

The baker slammed his fist on the counter and shouted.

“I disagree!”

The attendant continued his work, not moved or shaken by the baker’s protest.

“I truly cannot change any silver coins that do not match the weight. This is the new rule.”

The baker started to bang on the counter again but stopped when three bureau guards in silver-green uniforms approached him. Three tall and burly guards, each wearing a state-issued sword. Their silver-green uniform had fine chest armor and wrist bracers. The long skirts of their uniforms reached down to their fine leather boots. Their silver-green helmets made it so that no one could identify them.

The baker gave them a wary glance. They looked too intimidating to face, to say the least. He had heard the rumors of how cruel their training was; he had no hope of surviving a fight with them.

The baker sighed at the apparent bullying. He could only watch the attendant continue weighing his silver. Disappointment growing with every silver piece added to the discard pile. Discontentment rose, and it soon turned to anger.

“You can thank the finance minister for the new laws,” the attendant said when he noted the ugly expression on the baker’s face. “He is only protecting the kingdom.”

The attendant finished counting the silver pieces.

“You have exchanged five hundred silver pieces into twenty gold denarius,” the attendant said, counting out the gold denarius.

“The silver coins were one thousand to start. I should have forty gold denarius,” the baker complained, taking the bag holding his twenty gold denarius.

“You should, but you do not,” the attendant said.

He bagged the rejected silver pieces and held them out to a guard the baker had not noticed before.

“Why can’t I keep those if you’re rejecting them?” the baker asked. “I earned them fair and square. I can find some use for them.”

“These forged silvers should not be in circulation. They will ruin our trade. Here is advice for you, Sir. Weigh the silver coins you receive from your customers. Take forty grams for each silver piece and nothing less. Otherwise, you will be at a loss. Thank you for contributing to the well-being of our empire.”

The baker glared at the retreating guard who carried his rejected silver pieces, then cursed the officials in the palace before he left the exchange bureau.

He was the fifth such customer the attendant had seen.

“We can’t keep this up. At some point, the people will start a fight in our hall. Trouble brews in our beloved Lyria,” the attendant sighed as he watched the baker cross the street. “These forged silver coins will ruin us.”

****

Late in the afternoon, a cargo carriage left the bustling port of Naga State, situated on the east coast of the Lyria Empire. The cargo carriage raced to the capital city of Genad. The long-established main road was even. The empire’s Ministry of Works had rolled it with fine gravel. The Naga King was also very conscientious about maintaining it.

Tall evergreen trees grew on each side of the wide road. They took up swaths of land that soon opened up to private estates and small villages belonging to the people who lived in Naga.

The cargo carriage ran smoothly. The skilled artisans who built it had forged strong steel frames that secured thick solid blocks of wood to make up the body of the carriage. The carriage had no windows. It only had one solid steel door with an intricate lock. One needed an extended key to open the lock. The person who locked the carriage and the one who would open the carriage at the destination each held a key.

These two people belonged to the Sura Clan. The Sura Clan made a living off mining, smelting, and blacksmithing. They had done it for so long that they had established a way of life and developed a culture like no other in the empire.

A seasoned driver and his assistant sat at the front of the cargo carriage. The seasoned driver knew to keep the carriage going without stopping. The four horses leading the carriage would get to the journey's midpoint, where the midpoint stationmaster would exchange them for a new set.

The horses ran along, fast-paced, confident…

The wind changed direction.

A tall, heavy tree fell across the road, blocking the way. The horses broke speed, and the driver did his best to calm them. Too occupied with controlling the horses, the driver did not notice the ten men on horses surrounding the cargo carriage.

One of the men pulled the driver’s assistant off his perch. The second man sunk a sword into the driver’s shoulder, pulling him down too. A third man jumped on the driver’s seat and took control of the horses, bringing them to a complete stop.

“Should we check the cargo?”

“Not here. Naga has too many guards loyal to the inspector’s unit; someone might find us. We need to head northeast to the border of Storait Province and Naga. Our blacksmith will know how to handle the lock.”

“Very well. In any case, this last amount of black ore should be enough to serve our purpose.”

“You had better hope so. Otherwise, if the plan breaks, Lord Hulan will not spare us. Move the tree, get rid of those two, and let’s get moving.”

*****

 

1-2

The capital gained a different mood as night descended. Wives with families rushed home to tend to their households. Husbands who cared hurried along with them. The bachelors and revelers visited the city's many restaurants or livelier establishments, hoping to socialize and find good company.

In the garrisons, officers changed shifts, wrote reports, and upheld peace and civility in the capital city of Genad.

Standing on the balcony outside the Inspector General’s office at the Counterfeit Inspectors Unit, Raithion Maenaer watched an attendant in the inn across light lamps to ward off the night.

The inn was one of the cleanest establishments in the capital. Raithion knew the inn’s dining hall was packed with people having a meal. Others migrated to the inn's second floor to watch the dancers and listen to musicians play.

Raithion knew because he had rented a room at the back of the inn for the time being. Anyone who discovered this would think it strange as he had a comfortable home on the opposite side of the capital.

However, because his work was confidential, he did not intend to draw attention to his presence in the counterfeit inspector’s unit.

“General.”

Raithion turned to his left to find a tall, muscular man standing a few feet away.

The man wore silver green armor, his helmet in his left hand. The silver-green armor was the uniform used by the exchange bureau officers. It was hard to reconcile it with his most trusted friend.

“Haedor, you look like when we were still green in the training fields at the Naga garrisons,” Raithion said, grinning at his friend’s immediate scowl.

“Don’t remind me,” Haedor said, adjusting the collar of his green armor. “This thing is too itchy. I’ll be happy when we leave here. We returned the last counterfeit silvers from the exchange hall an hour ago. The two inspectors who went with me are busy writing reports on the day’s collection in the main hall. The master assayer has been working on the counterfeit silvers. He has news.”

“How much did you collect today?” Raithion asked, a frown creasing his forehead at the losses the people were experiencing.

“We are at a hundred thousand silvers this evening,” Haedor said, his tone heavy with anxiety. “There will be riots if the forced confiscation continues.”

“That is what the person behind this plot is hoping for,” Raithion said, abandoning his view of the city on the balcony. He entered the office. “The faster we can solve the source of these forged coins, the better for the people.”

“Your father is waiting for a report on the composition of the forged silver coins,” Haedor said. “We find the materials' source, and we will have the culprit.”

“True,” Raithion said. He retrieved his sword from the top of the large desk and exited the inspector general’s office. “Still, this case feels more complex than simply finding the source of the forgery.”

“Could you be over-reading their intentions?” Haedor asked as he closed and locked the door, leaving it as they found it.

Raithion wished he were, but his gut feeling told him there was more to uncover.

“We have no evidence to show there is more than a simple intention to ruin the economy,” Haedor said.

They walked along the wide corridor to a staircase leading them to a central hall. The main hall was a simple room with three desks manned by three inspectors. Each desk was laden with reports of the unit’s findings on the counterfeiting case.

The true Inspector-General would then send the reports to the military general overseeing investigations in the palace’s military offices. This general would then present them to the Basileus at the imperial court.

Raithion acknowledged the two inspectors who were hard at work with a single nod. He walked tall and with purpose. None of them doubted his position as the Inspector-General. He crossed the main hall to a corridor in the back. Haedor followed him close.

This corridor led to the most crucial room in the unit: the assaying room.

Haedor knocked on the door, and when he got a grunt in response, he slid the door open, allowing Raithion to pass him first.

Raithion entered the laboratory-like space with apprehension.

The imperial assayer had a bad temper. Most of the inspectors in the main hall had long decided the assayer’s exposure to the various metals and chemicals in this room was the cause of his bad temper.

Raithion thought otherwise.

He figured the wizened imperial assayer simply did not like people and preferred hunks of metal.

“Inspector-General has arrived right on time. I, Sinsa, have found the source of the metal you have been looking for.”

“I had no doubt,” Raithion said, smiling at the old man standing behind a massive worktable.

Sinsa was over seven decades old, though he looked younger. He wore a black leather apron that protected his comfortable cream linen clothes. A black metal mask rested on top of his head. He usually slid it down to cover his face when he was working. The metal mask had slits where the eyes were located. The slits were covered with light gauze used to protect the eyes. It took some getting used to when Sinsa wore it and looked at him.

Raithion was glad it was pulled up for the moment.

Sinsa’s gnarled and callused index finger pointed to a balance scale on the worktable.

Raithion smiled and moved closer.

“The forger is very skilled,” Sinsa said, his voice tinged with admiration. “He used iron to form the core of the counterfeit silver coins. Then, he adds bits of low-quality silver, probably melted from a pure silver coin, to fool the eye. He then plates the iron with a coating of more low-quality silver. In time, this silver coating will fade. It will be clear that iron is underneath at that time, but I doubt he’s worried about that. It is fine artisanship.”

“He is more concerned for the outcome of this plot,” Raithion said, studying the liquid metals on the balancing scale’s holders. They looked like liquid metallic blobs resting in fine, small measuring trays. He knew nothing of their properties, so he could only trust Sinsa’s explanation.

“What am I looking at, Master Sinsa?”

“Once I discovered how the counterfeit was made,” Sinsa continued, “I decided to identify the source of the iron ore they have used. The forger is quite clever. He chose to use ore with a high concentration of iron. There are traces of titanium. The core of it is unique. So much so that I can tell that it is only found in places where liquid fire erupts from the earth.”

“What does this ore look like in its original form?” Raithion asked, glancing at Sinsa, a streak of excitement at this low-key breakthrough racing down his back.

Sinsa reached for a small wooden box on the worktable and handed it to Raithion.

“The only source ore with this level of iron and titanium is called burnt ore,” Sinsa said.

Sinsa moved away from the worktable and sat on a high stool, studying Raithion.

“If I give you the name of the people who mine this burnt ore, what happens to them?”

Raithion opened the small wooden box and studied the burnt ore sample. He picked it out and held it to the lamp light. It looked rough and dull to his eye, harmless.

Yet, the forger who turned this into counterfeit silver had done irreparable damage to people’s lives.

“Master Sinsa, the imperial mint is very strict with counterfeiting,” Raithion said. “No one can tolerate damage to the mint. Counterfeit silver coins are ruining people’s lives as we speak. Our empire would fall if we let it continue.”

“What if the miners are not responsible for the counterfeiting?” Sinsa asked.

“I am clearly holding a sample from their product. We will have to determine their level of involvement,” Raithion said, returning the small stone of black ore to the box. He closed the lid and handed the sample to Haedor.

“Master Sinsa, the empire is not without laws. If the miners are innocent, naturally, they will come out of this unscathed.”

Sinsa scoffed and reached up to remove his metal mask. His silver hair was tied in a neat bun at the top of his head. His gnarled hands untied the strings of the helmet before he looked at Raithion.

“The last miners involved in such a case ended up dead,” Sinsa said. “The Inspector-General responsible was not conscientious. He added them to the list of the guilty, and an entire clan disappeared. Are you going to do the same, Inspector-General Maenaer?”

Raithion paused at the way Sinsa emphasized the title.

The assayer was not blind after all.

“I want to promise you I will be responsible,” Raithion said, meeting Sinsa’s probing gaze. “However, you must understand that we all answer to someone higher in the chain. Such a decision does not lie with me. The matter of counterfeited silver coins must end. I’m already holding a sample of their ore. You cannot protect them, Master Sinsa. I can only promise to minimize the damage and get this mining clan a fair trial.”

Sinsa placed the mask on the stool next to him and studied Raithion.

“Strange, but your face makes me want to believe you will try to do as you promise,” Sinsa said. “You are right. There is no turning back now. I have no choice but to trust you. The clan’s name is Sura. They mine this burnt ore from a mountain in their hometown, though I cannot tell you where. They are the only ones I have ever seen with it.”

Raithion frowned.

“You’re saying this ore can only be found with the Sura Clan.”

Sinsa nodded.

“Yes. There is no doubt. However, you cannot blame everyone in the clan for the counterfeiting. Someone in the clan probably diverts the burnt ore during transit.”

“Probably,” Raithion nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Master Sinsa. I’ll make use of this information. Do not share it with anyone else.”

“Not even the team of inspectors out there?” Sinsa asked, giving Raithion a critical glance.

“Especially them,” Raithion said, the glint in his eye when he met Sinsa’s gaze had the older man sucking in air.

“You’re more than you seem,” Sinsa accused.

“If you say so,” Raithion said, turning away from Sinsa, ready to leave.

“Wait,” Sinsa said. “Who are you? I truly doubt you’re the new Inspector-General taking over this unit.”

“I am who I need to be for the moment. Today, I need to be the new Inspector-General,” Raithion said. “So, I am.”

Sinsa kept quiet for a moment and then sighed in resignation.

“Whoever you are, please do your best to protect the Sura Clan,” Sinsa said. “They are good people.”

“We’ll have to see,” Raithion said, giving Sinsa one last nod.

Raithion left the assaying room, followed by Haedor. He stopped once they were outside the building. Raithion took a deep breath, glad he would not have to be here any longer. He had needed a sample of the original ore used to continue his quiet investigation. Now that he had it, it was time to return to his place.

One of the attendants at the stables brought their horses around.

“Where to?” Haedor asked when they mounted their horses and headed to the compound’s exit.

“We go to see my father,” Raithion said as he mounted his horse. “We need to report the source of the burnt ore and get permission to start an investigation into the Sura Clan. Send someone to pack my things at the inn across the unit. Don't leave any traces.”

“Consider it done,” Haedor said.

Raithion gave the inspector’s office one last glance. His thoughts lingered on Sinsa’s request. The Sura Clan was in trouble if they had chosen to counterfeit silver coins. He was not sure what he could do for them.

With a soft sigh, Raithion urged his horse forward toward the private manors on the city's outskirts.

******

 

1-3

Three weeks later, Dio Adertha, the fifty-first Basileus of the Lyria Empire, paced the length of a small room waiting for an unexpected visitor. Each step he took was with purpose. He clasped his hands behind his back as he cultivated patience.

Soon, his thoughts lingered on the past instead of dwelling on the waiting.

Dio thought about his father, the previous Basileus.

At the end of the Lyria Imperial Year 1335, the reigning Basileus, Rokas Adertha, abdicated his throne due to health concerns and made Dio the new Basileus.

Then, on the first month of the Imperial Year 1336, a year into his reign, Dio was still learning the imperial court’s ins and outs when his father called him to his residential chambers. He remembered the moment as clear as day.

Rokas was ill but still able to move around on his own.

Dio found his father sitting in a chair by the large windows in his chambers.

Rokas gave Dio a solemn cryptic warning that morning.

‘Beware of Witia,’ Rokas said. ‘The sugarcane state in the Southwest. If trouble starts, call on Maenaer of Draeya. He is your strength. Lean on his Marquis house for support. His loyalties belong to Adertha. He shall help you stabilize the empire. Trust only Maenaer. Don’t share my warning with your retainers.’

Rokas’s warning left Dio unnerved.

More so when Rokas died two months later. His father was not one to leave unimportant words.

Yet, Dio could not share them with anyone in his palace, not his secretaries, least of all his prime minister. Endless sorrow and worry descended on Dio.

However, this worry started to fade as the pressures of his role as Basileus grew heavier.

Dio soon realized that the politics in his capital city of Genad had changed after his father’s death.

An apparent struggle for power was brewing between two powerful political parties: the prime minister’s libert and the opposition party named populi.

Populi had a hidden master, one that worried the prime minister.

The two parties were in a vicious fight to control important government offices, ministries, and industries.

Dio could only focus on the constant tide of mediation between the two parties in his parliament. Soon, he forgot his father’s warning.

Two years passed in this constant turmoil.

Then, three days ago, on the sixth month of the Imperial Year 1338, an interesting request for a meeting made its way to Dio’s office.

A general with the last name Maenaer sent a note wanting to meet Dio and reminisce about the past.

Dio had no reason to grant the request. He would have refused, but then he remembered his father’s warning. The name Maenaer filled him with speculation, and so he agreed to meet the mysterious general.

It was mid-afternoon.

Dio stopped pacing and stood beside a white marble statue of one of his more illustrious ancestors. He studied the armor on the statue and wondered what his ancestor would say of the current rule in the kingdom.

In his ancestor’s time, the people respected the strong warriors. A struggle for power between soft imperial courtiers would not exist. His ancestor would probably think the current Basileus had gone soft, too.

Shaking his head, Dio turned when the door opened, and one of his bodyguards led in his strange guest.

The older man who walked in was tall and filled with the aura of a seasoned general. He was dressed in a long black coat with a peculiar finish. The heavy fabric shone in the sunlight as the general walked, as though the black thread was inlaid with silver strands. Intricate silver wire designs decorated the cuffs and lapels of the general’s coat. His knee-length black books were made of fine leather and durable thick soles.

This old general looked in his late sixties.

Yet, he stood tall, his back straight. His hair was the only part of him that showed his age. It was shoulder-length and as white as fresh snow. The long strands were held back with simple braids at his temple. The braids were tied back with a silver clip to match the cuff's silver.

Dio met the general’s gaze, and surprise filled him when he looked into light brown eyes that looked at him with challenge. The general stopped a few feet away and lowered his head in a short bow.

“Thanir Maenaer from the Draeya Clan greets the Basileus. I am honored you agreed to meet me.”

“I’m more curious about you, General Maenaer,” Dio said, studying Thanir’s bowed head. “What is your relationship with Basileus Rokas?”

Thanir responded by dropping to his right knee. He brought his right hand to his chest in a show of loyalty.

“I owe Basileus Rokas a debt of blood. He saved my wife’s life when she was pregnant with my first-born son. In turn, I pledged my life to the Adertha House. He never allowed me to repay this debt when he was alive. He only made me promise to find you, Basileus Dio, two years after his death.”

“Why?” Dio asked, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Why would he ask you to find me?”

“This subject will answer the Basileus with a story. Twenty-seven years ago, Basileus Rokas stayed in my clan’s home during a flood in our small Draeya County in the Naga State. Our county is named after the lake that sustains our lands. When it rains, the river that feeds the lake overflows. Basileus Rokas visited our county to help us find a lasting solution.”

“He tasked me with the job of constructing dykes, and dams, adding vegetation, and cutting terrace slopes to help us reduce damage. We even built a reservoir the county now uses for growing rice. While I was out working with his forces, my wife fell into danger when I was not home.”

“Basileus Rokas saved her and my unborn son, going to great lengths to find skilled doctors to save her life when she went into labor. Soon, I returned home. Basileus Rokas awarded my clansmen for their good work in controlling water overflow. He gave my house a title, making this small official, and his wife, Marquis and Marchioness Draeya.”

“Basileus Rokas praised me for my service, but I was too grateful for his unprecedented efforts to save my wife and child. I swore a blood oath to protect his Adertha House should he ever need it.”

“Lord Draeya,” Dio said. “My father valued officials who performed great feats for our empire. Please stand. I cannot be responsible for hurting your knees in my hall.”

Thanir dropped his hands to his sides and rose to his feet.

Dio gestured for them to sit on the two armchairs a few feet from the white statue.

Thanir waited until Dio settled before he sat.

“Four months before Basileus Rokas abdicated the throne to you, he wrote me a letter,” Thanir said, reaching into his coat pocket. He retrieved a tightly rolled paper tied with a red string. The royal seal on the paper was long broken.

Thanir handed the letter to Dio and fell silent, waiting for Dio to read the contents.

Dio felt his heart squeeze excitedly when he recognized his father’s handwriting. The elegant strokes of Rokas’s handwriting were so sure and seasoned. His heart skipped with joy at reading his father’s words after a long time.

Warm greetings filled the first paragraph of the letter.

Dio noticed that his father called the Marquis by his given name, Thanir. They were old friends. A paragraph asked about the Marquis’ children and the oldest Maenaer son, Raithion.

Dio assumed Raithion was the heir to Thanir’s title.

After the greetings came a paragraph of concerns…

‘…Thanir, I am writing to you now at the sunset of my illustrious life because I worry about Dio's future. I worry about the Lyria Empire's future. People from Witia State have made troubling moves of late.

If you remember, Dio's mother is a daughter from Witia. To my greatest worry, Basilinna Olneth has been tolerant of her brothers in Witia.

In her complacency, she has encouraged her brothers to support a cobra-like courtier named Gesi Ajai. He is an ambitious man working against the Prime Minister in the Populi party. For now, he plots to join the imperial court in any capacity. I've been unable to stall his efforts, as there are no obvious reasons to do it.

I'm also afraid Ajai has noticed my dislike of him.

Adding to my suspicions, of late, I have developed stomach pains that leave me bedridden for days. The physician cannot find the cause, which has made me come to my own conclusions. I worry Ajai's ambitions are now targeted at the palace. I have no proof for you, only speculation.

Dio is still young. He is twenty-five years of age. Two years younger than my adopted son, Raith. Dio has yet to choose a Basilinna to bring into the palace. He tells me he hopes to marry for love. Ajai might try to interrupt or manipulate his choices.

Old friend, I never wanted to take advantage of your blood oath. I have always considered you my brother. However, I am left with no choice. Allow me to invoke old debts and ask you to protect my son when I'm no longer around. I hope to remove Ajai from Dio's path before he has to take my place.

If I fail, I ask you to take my place and help my son protect Lyria.

Attached, find an imperium to assist you in the hard work you will face in my absence. Use it if I'm gone, and you discover Gesi Ajai making things difficult for Dio. I wish you and Silveren all the best. I hope and wish that my son, Dio, will find the same friendship I found in you with your son and my adopted son, Raithion.

I thank you in advance, Rokas.'

Folded under the letter was an imperium with the imperial insignia, signed and sealed by Basileus Rokas Adertha.

This imperium is given by Basileus Rokas Adertha, investing power in the Marquis Draeya, Thanir Maenaer, and his family to form a private army and have undisputable power to act in defense of the Lyria Empire and Basileus Dio. Maenaer will protect the empire's best interests as directed by Basileus Dio.

Dio stared at the order, caught between relief and fear. His father’s concerns were heavy and heartbreaking.

Rokas’s last words finally gained meaning.

Dio almost wished the order in his hands did not exist. That it did exist meant the empire would endure a period of turmoil. Worry and relief filled him up, fighting for dominance.

He sighed when relief won over.

Dio looked at Marquis Draeya to find the old general watching him with a wary gaze.

“Who is Raithion? Does Marquis Draeya know that my father’s adopted son is my brother?” Dio asked, smiling at Thanir’s concerned expression.

Thanir let out a relieved sigh and returned his smile.

“Raithion is waiting outside with his younger sisters,” Thanir said. “We are walking around the capital in the pretext of buying jewels for my second-born daughter. Noriel is getting married. She is hoping for your blessings for her wedding. If you grant the blessings, we can return to Draeya without rousing Gesi Ajai’s suspicion.”

“Well thought out,” Dio said with an approving nod. “Tell me, Marquis Draeya, what made you seek me out?”

“I have much to confess, Basileus,” Thanir said and stood. He reached into a second pocket hidden in his coat and produced two more scrolls.

Dio took the scrolls, handing back his father’s letter and the imperium to Thanir for sake keeping.

Opening the rough scrolls from Thanir, Dio found two notes.

“Counterfeit silver coins are creating sporadic unrest in the capital. The guards stationed in the exchange bureaus are doing their best to keep the citizens in check, but the tension is on the verge of breaking into protests. A solution is needed to handle the influx of counterfeit silver coins,” Dio read.

He looked at Thanir.

“I have received the same reports,” Dio said. “I ordered the Prime Minister and one of my generals to investigate this matter. They have appointed an inspector general to take on the case. I understand they are collecting the counterfeit silvers intending to find the source. When did their efforts lead to the point of clear upheaval?”

“The exchange bureaus are confiscating hard-earned silver coins from the people,” Thanir said. “There is no easy way to soothe the people’s anger unless we stop the counterfeiting. This case has pulled me back to this capital. I need your authority to find the true culprit behind the counterfeiting case. This incident is not so simple.”

“Other than damaging our economy to gain wealth as the courtiers often do, what else could be the goal?”

“My suspicions are not solid enough,” Thanir started.

“Marquis Draeya, tell me anyway,” Dio insisted. “I would like it very much if you were not afraid to share your opinions with me.”

Thanir paced away from the chair next to Dio. He rubbed his forehead with his right hand for a moment. He stopped and seemed to make a decision before he turned to face Dio.

“I have acted without permission and asked Raith to seek out answers. We have collected evidence that leads us to the conclusion that someone is working to destabilize the imperial court. Most counterfeit silver coins are forged using iron from burnt ore mined in the Sura Mountain. This burnt ore is found on an island called Sura. The people living on this island are a clan of two thousand, five hundred and twenty-three strong. They call themselves the Sura Clan,” Thanir said.

Dio sat back, reviewing the same information from his days in the classroom under his tutor’s watchful eye.

Sura Mountain once spewed liquid fire in the distant past. It had turned dormant for a long time. The people who lived on the island formed by the explosions had learned how to mine. They developed a strong clan filled with miners, metal refiners, blacksmiths, and artisans.

The Sura had a unique trait. They were all born with strawberry-blonde hair. The color was marked by the sheen of gold and a mix of white. It was easy to identify them in a crowd. It was even easier to spot their talent while looking at the metal items they made.

“The Sura are well known for their talent with manipulating metal. They run metal workshops that contribute to creating farming tools and any items made with metal, including jewelry,” Dio said. “The gold swords my father carried were crafted by one of their artisans and gifted to my family by their chieftain.”

“Yes. The current Sura Chieftain is Marius Doriel,” Thanir continued, despite Dio’s comments. “Basileus Rokas granted the Sura Clan a home in the capital where Lord Doriel and his fellow clan work and trade. They manage three large smelting workshops in the capital city. They also manage a residence by the port on the Southeast coast of Naga State. That is where the burnt ore enters Lyria.”

Dio frowned, studying Thanir to understand why the general was fixated on a mining clan. The Sura were common enough. He knew two other mining clans based in the State of Storait in the northeast, one in Brusan State. The Brusan clan mined precious jewels, and the value of the precious jewels was far larger than the Sura.

Witia State also has a gold mine, Dio thought.

His grandmother’s clan managed one. It was how she managed to marry the Basileus.

Naga State was the only state that did not provide mined products. Instead, they produced most of the rice in the empire.

Why would the Sura Island clan become so important?

Thanir sensed his doubt.

“The Sura Clan specializes in the development of steel. Our Draeya Clan has commissioned its seasoned blacksmiths countless times. They make strong swords and other types of weapons,” Thanir said. “They are an important part of the empire. Their wealth grows, and their purpose changes depending on the client. If I were Gesi Ajai, I might want to curb their influence or take it over for myself. The workshops held by the Sura in the capital are on a granted lease. The Ministry of Finance controls the lease agreement.”

Dio stood too, his eyes wide with shock.

His father had been worried Gesi Ajai was targeting one of the essential ministries in the imperial court. The Ministry of Finance was a powerful weapon. The empire flourished in trade and agriculture.

If a villain tampered with either…

Dio hissed. Why had he not seen it?

His father was right. His gaze shifted to the old general. Thanir Maener was the most valuable advisor Dio would ever have.

“Marquis Draeya,” Dio said, considering how to permanently move the man to the capital. “Do you live here in the capital city of Genad?”

“No, we don’t,” Thanir said with a slight chuckle. “My wife prefers a quiet life in our small Draeya County. We rent a manor in private residences on the outskirts of the capital. It has allowed us to move around unnoticed.”

“I wish to disappoint your wife,” Dio said, standing before Thanir. He met wary brown eyes. “Will you hold it against me?”

“Basileus Dio,” Thanir said. “I disappointed her first by coming to you with this imperium. There was no choice. After what I have uncovered, I must fulfill my promise to your father.”

“Luckily, we agree,” Dio nodded. “I cannot make you an official in the government yet. The haggling parties in my imperial court are holding the reins of government. The prime minister’s people run the most important offices, like finance, laws and rites, and collecting taxes. I cannot interfere with that wiry man, either. The Populi party has gripped the Ministry of Agriculture with its hands. They are using it to win the people’s favor.”

Dio sighed as he thought about his government. He wished daily for a stronger force. A force that would come in and upset the delicate balance between the prime minister’s Libert and the Populi.

Shaking his head, he glanced at Thanir once more. Perhaps Thanir Maenaer was the answer.

“I wish to pull you into the spotlight using the offices I control. The military office and the government administration office,” Dio said. “Once I do so, I hope you can penetrate the swirling storm between these two political parties. Are you willing, Lord Draeya?”

Thanir took in a deep breath and then nodded.

“I’m willing, Basileus.”

“Then, I’m relieved. We shall start by installing you as a military advisor in my office. This will give you a reason to enter the palace at will. It also allows you to grow acquainted with the courtiers,” Dio said. “As for the army forces, my father helped you grow in your Draeya County…”

“This matter is well organized, Basileus,” Thanir said. “I come to you with an offering. My eldest son, Raithion, joined the Naga State military when he turned sixteen. He forged relationships and cleanly grew his career. These past ten years have seen him rise in rank.”

“Quite industrious,” Dio said, curious about his adopted brother.

“At twenty-seven, Raithion has risen with his effort. He is a full-fledged general. He commands twenty thousand men within our Draeya County. The Naga State King has named him Lord General Draeya as he is the son of Marquis Draeya and comes from a military-grade family. He is the reason I have been able to collect the information on the counterfeit silver. I have held off his marriage in case it is of help to you.”

“All the men under your direct command must be under Raithion’s care,” Dio said, impressed by Thanir’s ability to plan.

“Yes, three thousand strong from our Draeya clan,” Thanir said. “Raithion will station them with me if I move to the capital. They will support you in any way you wish.”

Dio smiled as he stared at Thanir. The heavy burden of dealing with his court had left him constantly anxious. Even the attendants working next to him belonged to either Libert or Populi. If he could gain someone outside the circus…

How wonderful!

His father found him a very valuable chess piece. It was better to hold him very close.

“When you move to the capital,” Dio corrected, excited by this turn of events. “Your presence in the capital will make looking into Gesi Ajai’s movements easier. The faster we understand his plans, the better. Now, as for where you are to live in the capital...”

Dio frowned in thought and then grinned, snapping his fingers in excitement.

“We’re in luck. A year ago, old Princess Andong died. She was my great-aunt. Her grand manor in the capital reverted to me, which is mine to do as I wish. I will present it to a meritorious officer.”

“Thank you, Basileus.”

Thanir brought his right hand to his chest and nodded his thanks.

“You will find this manor useful. It has high privacy walls and discrete exits and is closest to my palace. I will have my retainers repair the property and make it Marquis Draeya’s official residence. I would also like to introduce you to the courtiers in the capital. It will please me to support your second daughter’s wedding. I promise to officiate her wedding in person in your new home.”

Thanir stepped back and gave him a formal bow, his head lowering an inch more than earlier in respect and gratitude.

“Thanir thanks you for your gift to my daughter, Noriel. I look forward to serving you, Basileus Dio,” Thanir said.

“No thanks needed, Lord Draeya. You are helping me more,” Dio said, gently touching the older man’s shoulder. “Now, I will walk you out, and you can introduce me to Lord General Draeya. I would love to meet this adopted brother of mine. The generals I have met so far are very stern. Is your son just as fierce? What does he like to eat? Do you think he will mind exploring the city with me? I have never had a brother before.”

Thanir chuckled as they headed out of the little hall.

“I will let him answer all your questions, Basileus.”

***

 

1-4

Raithion Maenaer stood next to his parents a month later, watching his second sister’s lavish wedding unfold.

Guests filled the sizeable front hall of his father’s new manor in the capital.

There were familiar faces, relatives, and friends from Draeya. Those Raithion welcomed with a full smile.

However, the unfamiliar faces, like the prime minister and his band of allies, those Raithion approached with caution.

Each of them attended the wedding to see the generous event prepared with the help of Basileus Dio’s full support. They wanted to glimpse General Maenaer and understand why the general was now favored.

Noriel’s wedding played a part in introducing their Maenaer family to the capital.

Raithion wished they could avoid the extravagance, but pulling his father away from a chosen path was difficult.

Noriel and her groom entered the large hall accompanied by the sound of melodic string instruments. They walked along the aisle between the seats, their steps slow and steady.

Noriel’s wedding dress was made using the finest red silk in the imperial workshops. The colorful butterflies embroidered by the palace embroidery were stunning. The most skilled Sura artisans created the gold pieces arranged in her long black mink hair.

Festival managers in the imperial palace chose the assorted flowers arranged on stands in intervals on the path to the dais. The banquet to come after was prepared by the palace kitchens. This wedding fit the word extraordinary.

Raithion could only hope his sister enjoyed extraordinary happiness in her marriage.

Noriel’s groom was handsome in red. The palace had also prepared his wedding clothes. The red cloak on his shoulders trailed behind him, embroidered with the same butterflies on Noriel’s train. The groom smiled hard at Noriel in happiness, holding her right hand with his left as they approached the dais.

Raithion liked Noriel’s husband-to-be.

Even though he was sure that some of the groom’s happiness came from the minor title he would receive from the Basileus, it wasn’t every day an ordinary man became a Viscount on the merit of marrying a Marquis’s daughter.

Raithion sighed at the Basileus’s extravagant treatment of his family.

Basileus Dio was painting a clear target on their faces and backs. The political class in the room watched Noriel and her groom with interest and intent.

Raithion’s worry grew another inch.

“Smile, Raith,” Thanir said next to him. “Noriel is watching you. She will be anxious if you don’t look happy at her wedding.”

Raithion pushed away his misgivings, and his lips curved into a smile when he met Noriel’s wary gaze. He winked at her, and she smiled. Her lips curved into a beautiful smile under her sheer red veil. She clutched her bouquet of wild red flowers tighter.

Raithion chuckled and glanced at his new brother-in-law.

Hujan gave him an acknowledging nod when their gazes met.

Raithion returned the nod, knowing he would now have to include Hujan in his list of important people.

A list that included his mother and father, Thanir and Silveren. His younger sisters, Noriel and Soriel. His mother’s two brothers and their families. Thanir’s three sisters and their families, and his brothers in arms.

Now, Noriel’s husband, Hujan, would join their Maenaer Clan.

Thanir and his wife, Silveren, moved to stand at their table arranged to the right of the dais. Hujan’s parents also stood at a table to the left of the dais.

Basileus Dio stood at the highest point of the dais between the parents.

Noriel and Hujan reached the front and stopped.

Noriel held her husband’s left elbow tight as she looked up at the Basileus.

Basileus Dio stepped down from his chair on the high dais and faced the couple. He looked handsome in the midday sunlight. His Adertha brown hair was trimmed to his shoulders and fell in healthy waves.

A gold crown that looked like woven leaves was wedged tight on his head.

His tunic was red with gold embroidery on the hems. He wore fitting dark trousers that disappeared into handsome burgundy boots decorated with intricate gold metal engravings. A long, rich burgundy overcoat topped the outfit—the length of it sweeping the ground. The embroidery on the hems and cuffs would have taken ages to complete.

Basileus Dios wore his imperial clothes with ease. He looked comfortable in his skin and rank. He faced Noriel and Hujan with unending confidence.

“Lady Noriel Maenaer, will you tie your fate to Hujan Draug for the rest of your days?” Basileus Dio asked, his voice solemn enough for the occasion. His voice rang in the large hall, holding the attention of all the guests in the room.

“Yes, I am willing,” Noriel said, her voice shaky with nerves.

“Lord Hujan Draug, will you tie your fate to Noriel Maenaer? To protect her, the children you make together, and the family you forge for the rest of your days?”

“Yes, I am willing,” Hujan said without hesitation.

The strength of his voice as he made the promise settled some of Raithion’s concerns.

“Bring the rings,” Dio said, his gaze shifting to the young woman behind Noriel.

Raithion smiled as he watched his little sister, Soriel, hold out a small silver tray holding two green jade rings. Hujan took one, and with Dio’s nod, slid the ring onto Noriel’s left index finger.

Soriel grinned when Noriel’s hand shook when it was her turn. She murmured a few words to Noriel and then stepped back behind Noriel. Dio’s gaze followed her, and Raithion tried to ignore the Basileus' interest.

Dio returned his attention to Noriel and gave her a clear nod. Noriel smiled as she slid the ring on Hujan’s left index finger. They clasped their left hands for all to see the union as Dio spoke to the room.

“I, Dio, Basileus of the Lyria Empire, bind your fates and declare you wedded. Two turned to one for the rest of your days in the viscount house-styled Draug. Forever, Lady and Lord Draug to the empire. Hujan and Noriel, bow to your parents. Thank them for their care, and face the world as one from this day forward.”

Noriel and Hujan turned first to Hujan’s parents and gave them a formal bow.

They then turned to Thanir and Silveren and bowed.

Raithion hid a smile when he saw his mother wiping away tears.

Silveren nodded in approval when Noriel and Hujan straightened up and faced Basileus Dio. To Dio’s surprise, the couple bowed to him too.

Then, Hujan lifted his wife’s sheer red veil over the crown of jewels in her hair before they turned to face their guests as a married couple.

Raithion clapped in congratulations. He grinned at his little sister, Soriel, who winked at him from her position beside Noriel. She was helping Noriel with the long train of her dress. She looked just as happy seeing Noriel find her place.

An attendant brought Raithion a goblet filled with sweet wine made from grapes.

Raithion was to make the first toast to his sister’s happiness and open the wedding’s festivities. He waited until Basileus Dio settled in the chair on the dais. Then, the parents sat at their designated chairs behind their tables.

Noriel and Hujan remained standing, looking at Raithion with expectant gazes.

Raithion took the goblet from the attendant and stepped up to stand on Noriel’s right side, facing Hujan. He held his new brother-in-law’s gaze.

“My name is Raithion Maener. I am Lady Draug’s big brother. Thank you for attending this happy occasion as my sister marries her beloved Hujan Draug. Our family is most grateful to Basileus Dio for the kindness he has shown us.”

Raithion looked to Basileus Dio and lifted his goblet in a toast.

“Long live, Basileus Dio.”

Raithion was glad when the room repeated the toast after him.

“Long live, Basileus Dio.”

Raithion gave the Basileus a formal bow, bringing his right hand to his chest and bowing his head.

Dio lifted his hand with an acknowledging nod, releasing Raithion’s formality.

Raithion continued his speech, knowing to keep it short when Noriel gave him a discreet glare.

“I’ve looked after Noriel since she was born. I’ve been her guardian for twenty-four years now,” Raithion said, meeting Hujan’s gaze again. “It is difficult to know that she will no longer live under our Maenaer house. I must tell you, Hujan. I have considered stealing her away from you these last few months and hiding her away. As the eldest in the family, I’ve been afraid our family will miss eating the delicious mint toffee Noriel makes. You must taste it to understand my concern for this imminent lack in our Maenaer house.”

The room erupted into chuckles, and Raithion grinned when Noriel threatened to pinch him. She looked radiant today, even as she attempted to glare at him and failed. Her dark hair shone in the light, held in place by beautiful gold pins. Noriel made a beautiful bride.

“Brother, you will always be welcome into our home for a taste,” Hujan said in answer to Raithion’s lament.

Raithion sighed dramatically and pressed his free hand to his chest.

“I’m very relieved to hear you say so, brother,” Raithion said, staring into his goblet of wine for a moment. “Still, I felt I had to let you know that I have worried about Noriel leaving our home and moving into a new one. Our family has protected her. Guarded her smiles and joys. We are a big family: our parents, my youngest sister and me, Maenaer uncles and aunts, and our brothers in service; we’ve all given the best to Noriel. We hope she remains happy in every thought and action we take, now and forever.”

“Your care has turned me into the luckiest woman in this empire,” Noriel said, looking at Raithion, her green eyes bright with tears.

“We’re the lucky ones to have you,” Raithion said. “This brings me to the point of my speech, Hujan. You see, as a family, we agreed to come to terms with the imminent lack of mint toffee in our house.”

“Raith,” Noriel said, complaining as everyone chuckled again.

“This is because I, being one of the many guardians of Noriel’s joys, cannot in good conscience keep her away from Hujan. Our family noticed how you make her smile and laugh. We chose to listen when she chose to stand next to you for the rest of her life. We understand that she has decided you are the keeper of her future. So, our Maenaer family can only support her wholeheartedly.”

“Hujan Draug,” Raithion held his goblet up in a toast. “Today, you are wed to Noriel Maenaer. She enters your family, but you enter ours too. We give you a treasure, and we hope you cherish her as she is, as she will cherish you. I, Raithion Maenaer, promise to stand as your brother, as I am hers, and to protect your family’s happiness as I’ve always done for Noriel. A toast to your happy marriage.”

Raithion drank the wine in the goblet until it ended. He turned the goblet over to show that it was empty. He then held his right arm to Hujan and pulled him into a warrior’s hug.

Hujan returned his hug with a broad smile and held Raithion tight before he let go.

Raithion turned to Noriel and sighed when he saw tears in her eyes.

“Don’t cry, Nori,” Raithion said, leaning in to kiss both cheeks. “You make a beautiful bride.”

“I love you, Raith.”

“I love you too.”

Raithion hugged her and then turned her over to her husband.

The room erupted into applause as Raithion stepped aside to allow the couple to greet their guests as a married pair. An attendant touched his left arm, letting him know that Basileus Dio wanted a word with him.

Raithion looked up to the dais and found Dio watching him with expectation.

Raithion walked up to the dais and stood on the right side of the massive chair the Basileus was using.

“Your love for Noriel is touching,” Dio said, his voice wistful. “I am jealous of her. When I hear your loyalty to them, you make me wish I was part of your Maenaer family.”

Raithion held his tongue, unsure how to respond.

Basileus Dio was a man he wanted to consider a friend, but their difference in status made the thought seem absurd.

Dio was an emperor, a king of kings, so powerful that he could hold the fate of Raithion’s legion in the palm of his hand with a single word.

They were unequal and could never be friends, only master and servant.

Yet, Dio persisted in the pursuit of friendship. He had not given up since their first meeting. The first time Thanir brought him and his sisters to the palace to meet the Basileus. Dio called him brother that day. Raithion could only see the head of the empire.

“Lord General Draeya, do you still not consider me your brother?” Dio asked, his gaze on Noriel and Hujan who were greeting the prime minister’s family.

“You are Basileus,” Raithion said, his tone respectful.

“Your tone suggests you will not even try calling me brother. I suppose it will have to be enough for now that I consider you my brother,” Dio said with a soft sigh. “Lord General, I have a task that is making me worry. I don’t want to send you out there in pursuit of Gesi Ajai’s accomplices, but I can’t trust anyone else.”

Raithion held his words again. He lived a life of orders. His commanders gave orders, and he executed them to perfection.

Basileus was the highest office in the land. He was now working for him.

Raithion had no choice but to follow the man’s orders.

“Be at ease, Basileus,” Raithion said after a moment. “I promise to complete the task you give and return to give you a report.”

Dio looked at him then, his dark gaze unreadable.

Raithion wondered what Dio was thinking when a little frown creased his forehead.

“It looks like we still have time before you consider me one of the ones close to you,” Dio said with a small smile. “I wish to earn your trust faster. I want the right to call you Raithion, Lord General. Or even Raith as your beloved sisters do.”

Raithion lowered his head, unsure how to respond to Dio’s words.

“What is your order, Basileus Dio?” he asked instead.

Dio cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. His right hand was resting on the arm of his chair. The red jade ring on his right thumb was the absolute symbol of his station.

“A message from one of your father’s people arrived last night. An unknown player is watching the Sura clansmen at the port on the southeast coast. I would like you to find out why and, if possible, capture one of these unknown players. I grow anxious thinking about the results of the counterfeiting case. Do you think you can manage this task?”

“Yes, Basileus Dio,” Raithion said with a single nod. “I’ll head out this evening after the festivities and my sister’s wedding is over.”

“Thank you,” Dio said, giving Raithion a small smile. “Be careful out there; I don’t want to watch your family worry about you. I will look after them while you are away.”

Raithion nodded his agreement and started to step away, but Dio continued.

“If you are worried about eating mint toffee in your Maenaer house, I can have one of the attendants learn how Noriel makes it,” Dio said. “Then, your house will not be without it.”

Raithion could not help his chuckle.

“What?” Dio asked, glancing at Raithion.

“Noriel learned her skill from our mother,” Raithion said, looking to his parents, who watched their daughter mingle with the world as a married woman. Their expressions were a mix of happiness, relief, and sadness.

“I told Hujan of the scarcity to remind him that Noriel would always have a place in our house. If he wrongs her, we’ll take her back.”

“Do you think he understood your intention?” Dio asked, amused.

“If he did not understand, I will help him understand if it comes to it,” Raithion said, making Dio laugh.

The sound drew interested gazes. Raithion was quick to note the Prime Minister’s interest in him.

“Now I truly want to make you my true brother, Lord General,” Dio said when his laugh ended. “What about you? When do you plan to marry? Or do you want to take in your father’s choice for you?”

“I don’t have plans to marry yet,” Raithion said, shaking his head. He never thought about marriage. “Lately, I have all these orders Basileus Dio has given me to carry out. When can I get married?”

“It’s good to dream of having someone you can return home to, call your own,” Dio said softly. “Someone to guard your smiles and happiness, as you said earlier. If you have no time, I’ll take responsibility and help you find someone.”

Raithion nodded his thanks. He had long understood that he was not one of the lucky ones who married for love, like Noriel and even his youngest sister. His marriage would be designed to help defend Basileus Dio’s position.

Raithion was part of his father’s promise to Basileus Rokas.

Raithion clasped his hands at his back and turned his attention to Noriel and Hujan, now heading down the aisle to the open doors. They would start a procession ending at Hujan’s manor, where a party would continue until the late night hours.

“The wedding is done. Hujan and Noriel are bound. I know your parents planned a celebration to honor the accomplishment. Your guests will not be free if I’m still here. I should return to the palace,” Basileus Dio said, getting up. “The rest is up to you, Lord General. Your father will have the details of the suspects. I look forward to your news.”

“I thank you for blessing my sister’s marriage,” Raithion said.

“It was my honor,” Dio said, then stepped down from the dais and followed the couple out of the hall with a slight smile on his handsome face.

Raithion frowned when Dio reached the exit and paused beside Raithion’s little sister, Soriel.

Soriel held her sister’s bouquet of red wildflowers and her own, full of purple flowers.

Dio looked at Soriel and then plucked a red flower from Noriel’s bunch.

Raithion froze when Dio tucked the flower behind Soriel’s right ear, his fingers brushing the soft strands of her jet-black hair out of the way.

Dio winked at Soriel, who blushed hard and stepped back. The Basileus chuckled and then stepped out into the sunny afternoon.

Raithion shuddered. It scared him to think of Dio making Soriel his Basilinna.

Soriel was too young to take on that monstrous position. She had just turned twenty this year. The Maenaer family was not strong enough to cope with the pressure.

Raithion needed much more power than he had now to protect a Basilinna.

Worried, Raithion glanced at his father. He was not shocked to find his father watching Soriel, too. What did surprise him was the pleased anticipation he read on his father’s face.

Thanir Maenaer’s clear ambition made Raithion’s heart shake.

“Raith,” Silveren called to him.

“Yes, Mom,” Raithion hurried down the steps of the dais to stand next to his mother.

“What a lovely speech you gave,” Silveren said, taking his right hand, her fingers soft on his callused ones. She squeezed his hand. “I promise to make an even better one when you wed. I don’t know who will deserve you, but I am grateful you will not leave our house and will bring back someone. I’ll miss Noriel, but I’m glad she is married. Now, we just need to worry about Soriel.”

Raithion grinned at her and relaxed at her joy. He decided to enjoy the festivities for the next few hours before he started the dangerous journey to the port on the southeast coast of Naga State.

“Get a chair, child; sit next to me,” Silveren said. “Let’s have wine to celebrate Noriel’s wedding.”

Raithion pulled a chair close to her and sat, accepting a goblet of wine from her. He pressed the rim to hers and sipped with a smile.

Outside, the fiddlers started a lively tune as the procession began.

Raithion toasted his sister with their guests for the rest of the afternoon.

At midnight, he changed into his travel leathers, donned a dark cloak over his shoulders, and left Marquis Draeya’s manor in the cover of darkness. His most trusted legion brothers, led by Haedor, joined him after he left the capital city. They formed a team of fifteen as they rode the main road to the port found on the coast of Naga State.

***