Commerce Emperor - Chapter 12: Man on a Mission

Marika finished our first commercial ship the next morning. As promised, she built it within twenty-four hours.

It was such a momentous occasion—this ship being the first homologated under the Frostfire Company—that I personally visited the shipyard for the baptism as acting Lord Protector of Snowdrift. I even took Benicio away from his studies so he could see it for himself.

I ended up giving the boy a tour of Snowdrift’s newly built Arsenal, much to his delight. Stone walls kept the cacophony in alongside the musk of freshly harvested timber and the river brine. Hundreds of newly recruited workers toiled on vast cobblestone docks and creaky planks. One out of twenty wore a skill-enhancing garment of my creation, overseeing new recruits, harvesting experience, and then handing over the magic clothes to the next shift.

“Here are the warehouses where Uncle Colmar turns feces into sails,” I told Benicio. Everywhere we heard the rhythmic thud of hammers, the screech of saws amputating dead trees, and the splash of water against the piers. “Here are the places where your mom’s workers hammer planks and haul ropes.”

Speaking of his mother, Benicio immediately pointed at Marika. My housemate was hard at work inspecting her newest creation: a magnificent cog with a sturdy mast as tall as a tower, fluttering sails representing our company’s white fox mascot, and a fortified prow strong enough to resist the strongest of storms. Workers from the Witchcrafting Guild strengthened the hull by infusing it with iron essence, a process that grayed its chestnut planks. Once the process was completed, this ship would travel across Archfrost’s cold waters with no fear from icy obstacles.

“–I need more oil essence infusion in the hull to prevent barnacles and shells from sticking. A tiny bit more iron at the front too.” Marika stopped barking orders when she heard us approach, her son’s presence drawing a thin smile from her. “Beni, are you skipping school?”

Beni shook his head, but did not accuse me either. Good. I always thought covering each other’s mistakes was the best foundation for a trusting relationship. “I requisitioned him as Lord Protector,” I said. “I’m laying the groundwork for his future internship.”

“We don’t allow child labor in this shipyard, especially from my own son,” Marika chastised me lightly.

“Is this your son, Lady Marika?” one of the Witchcrafting workers asked, a young woman around my age with straw hair and calloused hands. “He’s adorable! Do you want to check out your momma’s ship?”

“Terhi, don’t spoil him,” Marika protested, too late. Her son gave her the stare—the one only the most ruthless of heartless monsters could resist—and faltered. “Fine, but only the deck.”

Five minutes later, Marika’s helpers started giving Benicio a tour of the cargo hold, the mast, and the prow, much to her chagrin. I had a guard follow the kid along just in case; we had vetted every person working in this shipyard by buying their ability to deceive us, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.

“I’m too weak with that child,” Marika complained to me as she showed me around the deck. “I try to set boundaries, but then he gives me that look and I feel so guilty.”

“I can buy that weakness from you,” I suggested half-jokingly. I activated my magical sight as I inspected the deck, studying the way the witchcrafters grafted foreign essence into the wood. Both the native and transplant were so well-intertwined I could hardly tell them apart. “Though I think you’re doing well. He’s no longer afraid of going to school without you.”

“He is, but only because you’re the one to drop him off at the church.” Marika smiled warmly. “I think he’s starting to see you as a big brother figure.”

“Aww, and here I wanted to be the dashing uncle.” I suddenly froze upon noticing wisps of greenish essence in the sails. “Is that wind essence?”

“You’re getting better at this,” Marika congratulated me. “Elemental infusions require a Second Awakening.”

“Is that so?” I asked. “I saw Eris transfer fire essence into my dagger easily enough.”

“That’s the thing, I think our marks let us skip that step.” Marika proudly patted her ship’s mast. “I managed to infuse this baby’s sails with wind essence when I could only dream of it a month ago.”

If her guess was correct, then it meant a great deal. Harvesting elemental essence—the lightning from a storm, the subtle power carried by the summer breeze, the warmth of fire—was a skill that separated common essence witchcrafters from true magicians. By stockpiling these rare essences into runestones, the latter could achieve feats such as unleashing fireballs and thunderbolts, infusing carriages with the speed of the wind, or creating artificial lakes.

Of course, all of them paled before the true Mage, who didn’t need runestones to rain fire down from the sky.

“So, how did it go between you and your ex?” Marika asked me as we approached the prow and faced the river. The coming spring caused the ice to thaw. “Since you came alone, I guess not well.”

I scoffed lightly. “You’re a worse gossip than Eris.”

“I’m a bit worried for you,” Marika confessed. “She’s the Assassin, isn’t she? No other hero made news in Ermeline.”

“Good guess. I won’t lie, I still feel an unmistakable sensation of longing when I see her.” I sighed. “However, we’ve got some major differences in values.”

Marika scowled. “The heart says yes, the mind says no?”

“Quite the flowery picture, but I suppose it fits.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Turns out she kinda lied to me for years, not to mention all the skeletons in her closet.”

“I feared as much, and understand that pain all too well,” Marika gave me a worried look. “Did she treat you well?”

“I don’t regret our time together.” In fact, I would probably remember our relationship fondly. “She would like to start over, but I don’t think we have steady foundations to build a stable relationship. I also don’t think we’ll see eye-to-eye on important matters.”

Marika raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s a wiser take than I expected from a flirt like you.”

“Come on. I’m being a flirt because I’m maidenless.” I grinned at her coyly. “I’ve got to tell would-be buyers my undying love is on the market.”

“You might need to move out for that.” Marika returned my smile. “Some of the workers actually think we’re together.”

I was kind of surprised it took that long for rumors to spread. We did live together with a red-headed child. “Well, you were technically my wife for a boat ride.”

Marika laughed heartily. “Point taken.”

“You look so much happier,” I noted. “When I first met you, you were so sour and sad it hurt to watch. Now you’ve brightened up like the sun.”

“I owe much of it to you, Robin.” Marika stared at the river with a pleased expression. “I thought I would face tough years ahead when we climbed up on that ship together. Now the city covers my debts for my work on sealing the Blight, Beni receives education for free, and I feel my work is making a difference.”

“I didn’t do much. As the Artisan and a talented woman, you would have bounced back without help in no time.”

“I’m not so sure. Having people Beni and I could count on helped me feel supported. Like I didn’t have to carry the burden alone.” Marika reddened a bit. “Speaking of weight…”

I raised an eyebrow, suddenly surprised by her sheepish expression. “Yes?”

“I had a silly idea. Promise you won’t laugh.”

“How much for it?” I joked before putting a hand on my chest. “I promise.”

“Alright.” Marika gathered her breath and mustered all of her courage. “Soraseo told me that they use flying balloons in the Shinkoku. They put hot air in cloth paper bags and have them fly around for celebrations. They can even carry letters or small objects.”

“I’ve heard of such toys, yes.” I quickly caught on, much to my amusement. “Marika, how many balloons would it take to lift a ship?”

“I don’t know, but I… I kind of want to try. With my power and enough wind essence infusion, it might be feasible.” Marika chuckled in embarrassment. “I know that’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” I teased her. “It’s science.”

Due to Archfrost’s dangerous waters, we needed to design ships with strong hulls to avoid accidents. This meant lessening the cargo capacity and building cogs rather than the better carracks the Riverland Federation favored for long-distance oceanic trade. Not to mention the fact that many of Archfrost’s waterways froze in the winter, making them unusable.

A flying vessel would neatly bypass many of these issues, not to mention the advantages of reconnaissance. And especially not to mention the achievement.

We’ve mastered the land and sea, I thought while staring at the clouds. Why not the sky too?

Of course, there would be a few issues to solve. Weight management, safety measures, and the occasional dragon in the sky. Nothing too complicated.

“It might take a while to build a successful prototype, so we’ll focus on finishing the merchant fleet first,” I said with a hand on the ship’s railguard. “Once that commission is finished, we can try to put wings on our flagship.”

“I haven’t given it a name yet,” Marika confessed. “That honor is yours, oh Lord Protector.”

“Mine?” I raised an eyebrow. “Marika, you built this ship. You should be the one to name it.”

Marika wouldn’t hear any of it. “I’ll name the next one. You’re the one who ordered our fleet built. No way the city would have funded its creation without you.”

My goddess, she was serious. “Marika, that’s…” I chuckled, a bit uncomfortable. “Seriously, I can’t accept–”

“You aren’t leaving that deck until you name my ship,” Marika cut in, her arms crossed. “I’ll fuse you to the planks if I have to. I’m serious.”

“You can’t fuse flesh with wood.”

“I’ll fuse your pants and shoes.” My distress seemed to amuse her greatly. “It’s your own fault, Robin. You’ve rubbed off too much on me.”

By the four artifacts, I had created a monster. With no way out of this bind, I was forced to come up with a name. One immediately came to mind.

“I shall name it…” I grinned ear to ear, delighting at the thought of one-upping my friend. “The Queen Marika!”

“What?!” By now, Marika was positively blushing. “You can’t be serious!”

“The Lord Protector of Snowdrift does not back down!” I moved closer to the prow and shouted at the dockworkers, so all would bear witness to my decision. “All hail the Queen Marika!”

“All hail the Queen Marika!” a dozen men repeated after me, clapping and cheering. Poor Marika’s skin had gone as red as her hair, which I found quite amusing. “All hail Her Majesty!”

“Robin.” Marika looked fit to gag. “Robin, you’re killing me right now.”

“You need to work on your image. The more your name spreads, the more clients will look for you.” When Little Benicio emerged from the cargo hold with a guard and witchcrafter in tow, I couldn’t resist a little joke. “It’s time to climb down from your mother, Beni. She’s going to carry a lot of weight today.”

Marika couldn’t hold her laugh as her son looked at her in confusion. “I hate you, Robin,” she chastised me without meaning it. “I will retaliate, you know? I swear I’ll retaliate.”

“Get in line,” I teased her.

One hour later—just long enough for woodcarvers to carve the ship’s name on its side—Beni smashed a bottle against the Queen Marika’s hull before a cheering crowd of workers. Wine was too pricey for Snowdrift, so we used beer. We pushed the ship into the river and watched it float on its surface.

I had to admit the sight of that ship’s sails unfurling while facing the sunlight almost made me tear up. I couldn’t explain it. There was something magical about a vessel taking to the waves for the first time.

“One day, I will bring this ship all the way to the Fire Islands,” I whispered to Marika. “To Irem, to Seukaia, and to places you can’t find on any map. We’ll take it all the way to the sky. I swear it.”

To my surprise, Marika didn’t blow it off as a whimsy dream. “I look forward to it, Robin,” she answered me before looking for her son. “Benicio, time to return to school.”

Unfortunately for her, her child had already moved on to a new activity. He was observing that witchcrafter from earlier—Tehri, I think her name was—strengthening wood ship planks with iron essence.

“Beni?” Marika asked.

Her son moved his hand along the plank. My magical sight picked him smoothing over the essence, removing impurities, and sharpening the wood. From the way Tehri whistled, I assumed it was an impressive feat for a child his age.

“Your son is a witchcrafting wonder, M’lady Marika,” Tehri mused. “He could learn a thing or two here.”

“He’s too young to work in a shipyard,” Marika replied. Benicio gave her the stare, but this time his mother managed to resist his charm. “No.”

Benicio pulled my sleeve lightly, asking for my help. I decided to indulge him. “The best school is practice, Marika.”

“Robin, not you too.” Marika put her fists on both sides of her waist. “He needs to work on his math and writing. He’ll need good grades in both to join a sorcery academy.”

“He’ll need witchcrafting experience too,” I pointed out. I knew Marika well enough to formulate the perfect argument. “Observing professionals toil in the field will give it to him. Besides, he doesn’t have to come each day.”

Marika considered my proposal in silence while her son held her breath. Since I felt her hesitate, I delivered the coup de grâce.

“Wouldn’t it be better if he practiced his witchcrafting on ships rather than weapons?” I asked her. “It would be much safer, don’t you agree?”

That did the trick. “One afternoon a week on Merchday,” Marika finally decided. Benicio’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Only if you study hard at the Abbey and don’t cause trouble for Tehri and the others.”

“Don’t worry, M’lady,” Tehri promised with a hand on her chest. Little Benicio imitated the gesture with all the resolve of a seven-year old future apprentice. “I’ll look over him like a mother hen.”

Benicio hugged his mother tightly, much to her joy. After a while and a moment’s hesitation, he did the same with me; once again much to his mother’s joy. His tiny arms closed around my legs with more strength than I expected a child his age to have.

I suppose I could settle on being a big brother well enough.

“You’re pretty good with children,” Marika said after we left the shipyard and entrusted Benicio to Tehri. She carried her trust sledgehammer on her back.

“I like kids.” I found their innocence refreshing, especially when compared with two-faced adults. “I grew up in an orphanage, so I’m used to them.”

“Have you considered having one?” Marika coughed. “A child, not an orphanage.”

“Maybe with the right person.” I was kind of missing half of the components required to make children for now. “It’s an enormous commitment I’m not ready to sign on yet… especially in our current situation.”

“I can understand,” Marika replied. “Where are we going? You must have a pretty good reason to take me away from construction work and ask that I bring a weapon.”

“I’ve set up a training session with Soraseo,” I explained. “The more information I gather on Prince Roland’s visit, the more I believe we’ll need to prepare for battle.”

“I feared as much.” Marika nodded grimly. “We would both need some practice.”

Yes, we did. We performed rather poorly against Fenrivos in spite of our skills, and we would have outright died without the latter. Purchased experience might give us the edge against normal men, but our unnatural foes required more than talent to defeat. We needed more practice, more equipment, better teamwork, and so many other things.

“I’ve got a favor to ask you too,” I informed Marika. “Would you kindly teach me the basics of witchcrafting and essence manipulation?”

“You didn’t find anybody to sell that knowledge to you?”

“Nope.” Witchcrafting was a rare skill, since unlike craftsmanship, only a small minority who underwent the right rites could manipulate essence. No member of the Witchcrafting Guild wanted to part with a knowledge they paid a fortune to acquire; and even if we incorporated the skills into a cloth, few people would be able to apply it practically. “I might need to travel beyond Snowdrift to find a seller.”

“Yeah, you’d have better luck finding retired witchcrafters in the capital.” Marika smiled. “I’ll give you homework at the same time as Beni.”

“I’ll follow lessons meant for children?” I laughed. “I wonder how I should take it.”

“It’s never too late to start witchcrafting,” Marika teased me. “Besides, your power should help you with it. If you can transfer essence through a transaction, you’ll skip the hardest steps of our work.”

Good to know, but I still needed a crash course in witchcrafting. Using my power for essence transfer required a partner after all; something I might not always be able to rely on in the field.

Soraseo and the city watch had set up barricades near the Forbidden District—the informal name Snowdrift’s citizens gave to the sealed zone surrounding the Blight—to react quicker in case of a breakthrough. Marika and I found our teammate practicing her swordsmanship with six guards under Colmar’s watchful eye. The Alchemist observed the fight from afar, ready to intervene should one require medical attention… though I wouldn’t call what I saw a fight.

Six or six hundred, it wouldn’t have made a difference against Soraseo. Of the soldiers that surrounded her, two were laying face-down on the cobblestone floor, one sat against an abandoned building’s wall in a daze, and the other three didn’t dare to attack Soraseo although they surrounded her from all sides. Her curved blade was steady, while her opponents’ broadswords trembled in their hands.

“You are holding your sword too tight, Ivarson,” Soraseo chastised the soldier, “Loth, you are keeping your blade too low. I can open your throat with mine if I have the will.”

One of the soldiers—I guessed Loth from the way he wielded his weapon—lost his nerve and charged Soraseo head-on. His allies swiftly attempted to flank the Monk, but their lack of coordination cost them precious seconds. Soraseo parried Loth’s strike with such strength that he stumbled back onto the ground. She then sidestepped around one of her flanker’s swords, kicked him in the chest so hard he ended up crashing against the barricade, and leveraged her curved sword’s superior reach to threaten her last foe’s neck before he could close the gap between them.

Marika winced upon seeing the defeated soldiers. “Aren’t you being a bit too rough?”

“I have no patience left.” Soraseo planted her sword on the ground. “You must attack when I attack. Do not give me time to recover my breath. You must keep me on the wrong foot.”

“Back foot,” Colmar corrected her. The Alchemist checked up on the soldiers, but Soraseo didn’t hit them that hard. “The proper expression is ‘to keep them on the back foot.’”

“I shall keep the memory.” Soraseo sheathed her sword. “Ragni, you have made the most progress. You must carry more weight and eat more beef to build stronger muscles.”

I smiled as Soraseo began to review what mistakes the guards committed and how they could improve. Our dear Monk had agreed to my training program suggestion: she sold knowledge of fighting stances to warriors, then used her power to swiftly relearn them. Soraseo’s swordsmanship focused on long curved swords, but she was familiar with all forms of weapons and quickly picked up cues from watching knights at the Black Keep.

Though we mostly used her ability to train more guards, we also began to use it to create more blacksmith, musician, and other physical and skilled labor garments. Those weren’t as efficient as clothes holding a lifetime of experience, since Soraseo’s power only replicated physical movements, but they could help train debutants.

However, we encountered a flaw with that strategy: namely, there was no single fighting stance that could fit everyone perfectly. Soraseo’s lean and graceful bulk differed from the average recruit, so while transplanting her knowledge gave our guards a technical understanding of fighting, they still needed quite a lot of practice to develop the correct muscle memory.

On the other hand, Soraseo’s understanding of motion let her intuitively detect flaws in the stances and movements of our soldiers, which she could then correct. This made her an excellent tutor.

She feels comfortable in an army, I thought as I observed Soraseo force a guard to straighten his back and lower his fists to practice a hand-to-hand martial art. She’s familiar with training soldiers.

I’d pegged Soraseo as an introvert. She rarely sought social contact for its own sake and preferred to keep to herself when not needed. Many times I found her following a rigid routine of sword training in the early morning and biwa singing in the evening. We often played the latter together when paperwork didn’t get in the way, but Soraseo would still play if no one listened to her. The only social activity she actively sought out was martial training, and she naturally gave orders in spite of the language barrier.

She must have been an army captain before her exile, perhaps a commander. I couldn’t explain her familiarity with small unit tactics and natural authority otherwise.

“Shall we have training now?” Soraseo asked me. “I was told there would be one more.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Clearly not.”

I had invited Mersie to join us, both to introduce her to her fellow heroes and see how our powers could synergize. I do my best work in the shadows, she had told me when I visited the inn where she stayed at dawn, when no one sees me coming.

Then again, maybe the Assassin didn’t need training. Mersie managed to slay a room’s worth of nobles without alerting the outside world. I had no doubt she was the deadliest of us all.

“I am unsure why you invited me too, Robin,” Colmar said. “I told you I dislike killing. A scalpel is the only blade I wish to use.”

Marika scowled. “Our enemies won’t show you the same mercy, Colmar.”

“Even so, I have sworn to save lives, not to take them.” Colmar raised a hand and observed his gloved palm. “If I must incapacitate a foe, it will take no more than a single brush.”

A second later, an edged blade materialized against his throat.

It took me a few seconds to realize that Soraseo unsheathed her sword so quickly our eyes couldn’t follow her movement. Colmar stared at the blade warily, and then at its wielder.

“Touch me now,” Soraseo ordered the Alchemist with a daring tone. “Before my blade cuts your head.”

Colmar wisely raised his hands in surrender. “I see your point.”

“Your power can turn a man to stone easily enough, but it’s useless at range,” I pointed out. “You should at least train to fight enemies with superior reach. For the sake of both your life and those you will be called to protect.”

Soraseo lowered her weapon. “If you will not learn sword techniques, I will teach you to use your hands and feet.”

Colmar gave up. “Fine, fine.”

“We will start with spars, so I can gain understanding of you,” Soraseo decided. “Marika, Robin, please–”

The sound of flapping wings above our heads interrupted her. I raised my eyes to see a familiar, silvery pegasus land upon the training grounds with an armored rider on its back.

Alaire.

Snowdrift’s new Countess seemed to have gained a few years since I last saw her. Her red-rimmed eyes carried the crust of dried tears, and her skin had gotten paler. She all but jumped off her winged horse, her boots making a loud ‘thump’ noise as they hit the ground.

“Somebody duel me,” Alaire asked immediately, skipping through all courtesy. She already had her hand on her sword’s hilt. “I need to clear my mind.”

I studied Alaire and immediately recognized worrying signs. The nervous way she held onto her sword’s hilt, the pressure on her shoulders… the stress of her position was getting to her.

“I volunteer,” I said, mostly for her sake.

Alaire nodded at me thankfully. “Then draw your sword.”

“Wait, wait, a duel should always have a wager on the line.” I drew my rapier and dagger. “That way, we’ll give our all.”

Alaire pondered my proposal before quickly accepting. “If I win, I will keep my braid.”

“I already won it.” I scoffed. “You want to shortchange me?”

“Afraid I will win?” She taunted me.

Well, she asked for it. I wondered about my wager. I needed something funny. Something that would amuse Alaire and bring her some levity.

“If I win,” I said. “You’ll let me name one of our ships Pony Princess Alaire.”

Alaire rolled her eyes, while Marika scoffed. “What is it with you and ship names?” the latter asked. “They’re just embarrassing.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I replied.

“Fine,” Alaire said, drawing her bastard sword. “Do your worst, Robin.”

Soraseo nodded in agreement. “Colmar and Marika, you will have a spar too.”

“I please ask that you use blunted weapons and lessen the strength of your blows,” Colmar pleaded. “Damaging my suit could worsen my condition.”

“I’ll do my best to hold back,” Marika replied with a grin.

Soraseo traced a line along the training ground to set how much space each duo could use. I did some footwork to prepare myself while Alaire simply waited with her sword in hand. My duelist skills infused my mind with information on how to proceed.

My rapier was longer and better at striking unarmored points than a bastard sword, but Alaire’s weapon carried more strength and weight. Parrying one of her blows might snap my blade in half. My best bet was to keep my distance, stay at range, and use my dagger to deflect a blow I couldn’t dodge.

Alaire understood that as well. She would probably try to engage me at close-range, using defensive maneuvers until she could get close enough to land a decisive blow.

I need to exhaust her, I thought. Tire her out, then strike.

“Be ready,” Soraseo said, Alaire and I gathering our breath. “Go!”

Alaire lunged at me in an instant.

She’s quick, I thought. I stepped to the right to put some space between us, but Alaire predicted my move and closed the gap. Our new countess raised her sword and aimed at my chest.

“It will cost you an arm to strike me,” I lied.

“What?” My words distracted Alaire enough to interrupt her motion. “No!”

I exploited her confusion to strike back, my rapier lunging for her throat. Alaire parried my blow in the nick of time with her weapon’s crossguard. The tip of my rapier bounced off her weapon and I darted back to maintain a safe distance.

“You dare use your powers in a spar?” Alaire complained. “That’s cheating!”

Soraseo looked away from Marika and Colmar’s match—which amounted to the latter running away from the former—just long enough to shake her head. “In battle, everything is forgiven.”

“You heard the referee,” I taunted Alaire, trying to bait her into making a mistake. I feinted with my rapier, pretending to aim for her leg. She answered with wide swings to keep me at bay. My thrusts were akin to viper bites, quick and deadly; but Alaire parried them all. Her sweeping counter-attacks carried all her weight behind them.

I moved around her with a cat’s swiftness, never letting her get too close. Alaire, however, didn’t fall for my plan. Instead of tiring herself out answering my constant provocation, she used as little force as she needed to keep me at bay. In contrast to my flashy hit and runs, my opponent’s movements were grounded and steady.

She’s talented, I thought. My skills were only as good as the one who sold them to me. Ser Hugdan had been a talented duelist, but he had been no master either. Alaire was more than a match for me. I couldn’t find a way past her tight defense. I need to create an opening.

Once again I resorted to a feint. I lowered my rapier against the ground, grazed it, and threw dirt at Alaire’s face.

My opponent raised her arms to protect her eyes. I darted forward to exploit her crumbling defense with both weapons ready. Alaire lowered her sword upon realizing the danger, but I swiftly deflected her blade with my dagger and aimed for her throat with my rapier.

She dodged.

To my astonishment, Alaire deftly moved her head to the side to avoid my rapier. The tip of my weapon missed her throat while the rest of her closed in. Before I realized what was happening, Alaire swiftly punched me in the stomach with her free hand and kicked my right knee as I stumbled and fell onto the ground.

When I looked up, Alaire’s sword had moved within an inch of my throat.

“I win,” she said with a joyful, happy smile.

“You’ll keep your braid,” I conceded, much to my annoyance. I hated losing, even against someone I considered a friend. “Do you feel better now?”

“A bit.” Alaire grabbed my arm and helped me back to my feet. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Did you just thank me?” I chuckled. “What have you done with the real Alaire?”

“Don’t push your luck, Robin,” the countess replied, though with a thin smile on her lips.

“How are you holding up, Lady Alaire?” Marika asked, having beaten Colmar into the ground with one weak blow of her sledgehammer to the stomach. “You seemed in a foul mood.”

“I am still,” Alaire admitted. “It annoys me to see so many carrion-eaters crawl out of the woodwork the moment my grandfather perishes. I should purge them all.”

“I don’t think it would help with your popularity,” I pointed out.

“Hence why I grit my teeth and try to ignore them.” Alaire stabbed the ground with her sword. “Was our performance satisfactory, Lady Soraseo?”

Soraseo nodded sharply. Considering her own strength, I took the gesture as an extraordinary mark of respect. “You have the talent, but you need more lightness. We will work on your footwork.”

“What about me?” I asked.

Unfortunately, Soraseo proved a little harsher on me. “You have the knowledge, but you are predictable. When your head says one thing, your body does not listen quickly enough. Marika is having the same problem.”

“We need to build up muscle memory so our skills adjust to our bodies,” Marika summed it up. “Then improve upon them.”

Indeed. Ser Hugdan’s skills served me well, but they could still be strengthened.

“In your case, Colmar, we must start from zero,” Soraseo said. “You need to gain more muscles.”

“My condition makes that… difficult,” Colmar confessed.

“Then we must sharpen your instincts. We will be increasing your swiftiness.”

“Increase my speed,” Colmar corrected her. I didn’t expect him to be such a stickler for grammar. “Swiftness, not swiftiness.”

“I shall have remembrance,” Soraseo replied. “I will be giving you exercises for the week.”

Alaire coughed slightly. “Lady Soraseo, before you do so, I have something to give you.”

I held my breath as Alaire grabbed a letter from her pocket and handed it to Soraseo. I immediately recognized the bear-shaped wax seal on its surface: that of Duke Sigismund, Prince Roland’s uncle, and master of Stonegarde.

“The letter arrived this morning, Lady Soraseo,” Alaire explained. “This should grant you passage through Stonegarde.”

Soraseo examined the letter for a long minute, her face utterly blank. I personally held my breath. Our beloved Monk had waited many days for it with impatience. Considering her obsession with reaching the Deadgate, I half-expected her to depart Snowdrift on the spot.

To my surprise, Soraseo simply slipped the letter inside her armor. “Thank you, Lady Alaire,” she said with a short, respectful bow. “But I will not be leaving now.”

“Why’s that?” Marika asked her. She sounded about as surprised as I was, if slightly relieved too. Soraseo had become a comrade, and our team’s powerhouse.

“The enemy is not defeated yet.” Soraseo pointed at the sealed Gilded Wolf with her sword. “The Deadgate will not move for a week. Our foes will.”

The mark chose her well, I thought. I was glad she put the common good above her personal quest, at least for now. “Since you’re all here, I have worrying intelligence to discuss.”

Though I decided not to mention how Mersie gathered the information she passed on to me, I shared everything else with the group. I did not believe in keeping too many secrets from my allies, and I trusted their discretion.

Alaire’s scowl only deepened the more I spoke. “The Knot of Greed infiltrated our government?”

“It’s what my source said,” I confirmed. “It would explain how Fenrivos got away with his crimes.”

“I am more concerned about the Demon Ancestors’ marks,” Colmar said. “I find the implications worrying.”

“Demons lie,” Soraseo insisted. “It is a trick to mock and deceive us.”

“It could be,” Colmar conceded. “But this should call for an investigation.”

Marika crossed her arms. “I don’t know much about Archfrost’s political situation, but if demons have infiltrated its government, shouldn’t they have made a move on the prince already?”

“The prince is well-protected,” Alaire replied with a scoff. “Wouldn’t surprise me if demons were on the rebels’ side.”

“How so?” I asked her. “I mean, I vaguely know the reasons behind the civil war, but perhaps your grandfather shared details with you that I am not aware of.”

Alaire crossed her arms. “Archfrost’s south has always been more fertile than the north, with its own culture,” she explained. “Fifteen years ago, southern nobles started protesting against King Chernoglav’s taxes. The leading figure behind the protest was the late Duke of Walbourg, Ingaslov.”

“Who was assassinated fifteen years ago,” I remembered.

Alaire nodded. “His widow Griselda accused the then-King Chernoglav of the crime and raised her banner in revolt, with many nobles choosing her side. The resulting civil war lasted three years, and ended in a truce after the plague devastated both sides. King Chernoglav perished in battle too, leaving his young son Roland under his brother and wife’s regency.”

The truce lasted twelve years, but did not resolve anything. The Duchy of Walbourg and its supporters maintained de facto autonomy from Archfrost, while the kingdom sought to recapture them. Both groups had been building up their strength in anticipation of renewed hostilities.”

“Did he?” Marika asked. “I mean, the king. Did he really assassinate the duke?”

“No one knows, not even my grandfather,” Alaire said. “He protested otherwise, but he had the means and motives. The king’s loyalists claim Griselda did it, though they couldn’t provide any proof. However, if the Knots are truly involved–”

“Then it could have been a set-up,” I finished for her with gritted teeth. “A demon setting both sides against each other to destabilize the kingdom.”

If so, then my grudge against the Knots would only deepen. The war brought Archfrost to its knees and worsened the already terrible Purple Plague. The demons might not have slain my parents, but they laid the groundwork for it.

We should investigate Walbourg, I thought. The frozen conflict between the south and the north only served to weaken the country in difficult times. If we get to the bottom of the matter, we’ll find the Knot of Greed’s leader.

Once again, the sound of flapping wings drew me out of my thoughts. Another pegasus knight landed within the training ground.

“Lady Alaire! Lady Alaire!” The messenger presented a letter to Alaire. “Urgent news from the capital!”

Alaire grabbed the document, snatched it open, and cursed once she finished reading it. “They have found the Cavalier.”

“The Cavalier?” I repeated. The Cavalier was one of the Knight’s vassals alongside the Monk. “Why do you look so angry? This is good news.”

“She’s in Walbourg.” Alaire spat on the ground. “On the rebels’ side.”