When Chaupic entered the mansion, he was greeted by a lively atmosphere. He had decided to come along late, when the revelry would be in full swing. This way, he wouldn't stand out too much. Despite his role in the alliance, he really didn't want others to associate him with the lord of the mansion. The prime minister already knew what it would do to his reputation, to his legacy. Although he was determined to keep a low profile, just as he entered the large hall, tonight's host stood by the entrance, ready to greet him.

“Minister Chaupic, welcome to House Villca!” the balding lord's droning voice resounded across the celebrations in his back as he put his arms around Chaupic's shoulder. The politician put down his umbrella and looked behind himself, back into the pouring rain, as he let himself get dragged inside by the enthusiastic master of the house. He didn't really have a choice in the matter.

“This servant is honored to be served as a guest.” Chaupic hid his discomfort at the close physical contact as much as his discomfort at being put into the center of attention. At least a look around revealed that this late into the evening, most men were too drunk to take notice of his entry.

Since the heavy rain outside had made any banquet in the open impossible, the large salon of the Villca mansion in Arguna's inner city had been transformed into a walking circus. Torches everywhere spread a golden light to further highlight the excess before him. Men were stumbling through the rows upon rows of tables, laden with all the culinary treasures the granaries could spare this late into winter. The men's lack of decorum or order made it impossible for Chaupic to tell the lords apart from the servants. The entire procession was one enormous mess. The sticky-sweet aroma that had laid itself all over the room made it even more obvious that they weren't drinking tea. Somewhere in the background, through all the drunken singers, boasters and fighters, he could hear a song and dance performance, but no one was conscious enough to appreciate the finer arts.

As Chaupic was further dragged along towards the back of the room, he found a young man who had passed out right in their path. He lay on the carpet and mumbled to himself, as his drool soiled the expensive cloth beneath him. With a smile, Villca stepped on the drunkard's back and then over the puddle which had originated from his cup. Uncomfortable as Chaupic was to repeat the lord's uncouth feat, Villca's powerful grip didn't leave him much of a choice.

Finally, they had passed the worst of the chaos and reached a table even more decadent than all the others, inlaid with gold and silver. Having passed the worst part of his journey, the prime minister took a deep breath before he looked over the ridiculous offerings in his front, which tested the limits of the table's stability. Apart from the grilled meats, rice and other traditional Yaku cuisine, he found strange fruits, baked products and... things he could not even identify. They were no doubt gifts brought from the strange lands of the two men who had sat at the table, almost hidden by the mountain of opulence.

“Ahaha, if it isn't Prime Minister Chaupic! Have a seat, have a drink!” The lanky merchant, rather than the fat one, stood to greet him first, while Villca finally showed mercy and let go of his arm. Chaupic knew that the pressure would leave a dark spot for days, or even weeks, but he wouldn't let his pain show. It would be rude, and it would ruin the mood. He couldn't afford either, not now.

“Lord Borgarson, please be aware that this servant was only prime minister to the previous emperor. There is no telling whether or not the ancestors will decide to send this old man into retirement,” he answered to Steen Borgarson, the Arcavian merchant. They were well acquainted already. After all, he and Spuria had planned the assassination of first prince Corco together with Kallas, who had offered his best man for the work. The failed attempt and disappearance of his right-hand man had put a strain on their relations, but the cooperation over the last few days had been more than enough to alleviate all of his resentment, as evidenced by the man's frank smile.

“Please, Prime Minister Chaupic. Even us outsiders are aware that sire is the only choice of prime minister, be it for the central kingdom of King Pacha or the city administration of Arguna,” While he had been talking with the lanky merchant, the fat one had labored out of his seat and joined in on their talk. He offered Chaupic a firm, wet handshake, and the politician once again tried his best to hide his disgust. The man's body was as unsavory as his temperament.

“This servant is happy to meet Lord Olbit Kallas, dignitary of Borna. It seems like Lord Kallas fooled us all with his manner of speech.”

Chaupic followed his co-conspirators to take a seat around the table. He remembered his handful of superficial meetings with Kallas before today. The merchant who cultivated close ties to Prince Amautu's faction had always seemed simple, honest and careless, with a terrible grasp of the Yaku language. It felt like he had no idea what he was doing almost all the time. Someone who would be easy to use and discard as needed. Obviously, the merchant was much more clever than anyone had given him credit for.

“Prime Minister should not be surprised by my actions. After all, when it comes to playing roles, none here can hold a candle to you, sire.”

Showing a shallow smile, Chaupic reached into his robes and retrieved the gift he had saved up, especially for today. “On that note,” he said before the bulbous green bottle landed on the table with a heavy thud. The well-familiar label on the front told the men just what Chaupic had brought.

“The famous Borna Brandy!” Kallas said as he picked up the bottle with glee, “where did sire receive it?”

“A gift from King Corco. As thanks for all the support received.”

His words prompted boisterous laughs from Borgarson and Villca, and a thin smile from Kallas. At this point, Chaupic was sure that the bornish merchant was the most dangerous man at the table.

“Too comical. The clever little crown prince, tricked just like this. How could he ever expect that Prime Minister Chaupic would work for ancestor Viribus this entire time?”

“In fact, King Corco was aware of this,” Chaupic corrected with a raised finger, “However, he could not see our alliance, no matter how hard he looked.”

“In fairness, there was little he could have done once we chose to work together,” Villca added, “The boy did well, all things considered, made things difficult for us. And that bastard Sonco too. That man was a master of deceit. Even when we took him down with the weapons from our eastern friends here, he still made trouble from beyond the grave. How can those lords be so blind to adhere to the words of a dead man?”

As he watched Kallas uncork the expensive liquor with a pop, Chaupic answered with a frown.

“Master Viribus is very unhappy about what happened in the last few days. Master's prestige has suffered greatly, all due to Lord Villca's inability to halt Prince Corco's steps. Master hopes that Lord Villca will be able to control the prince in the south and make sure he does not become too influential.”

Upon the provocation, blood began to boil under Villca's skin and up his face, but the gurgling of the poured alcohol stopped him before he could explode. The fat merchant had started to fill up all of their cups.

“No need to be upset. For now, all our goals have been achieved. Today, we celebrate. Any problems can be solved tomorrow.” He handed the cups over to the three men at the table and raised his own, high up towards the ceiling. “Now drink! To the future!”

“To the future!” the other three replied in one voice, before they all took a deep gulp of the strong liquid. Chaupic could feel the mellow taste linger on his tongue, before it traveled down his throat and began to warm his core, chilled down from the rain and the unpleasant company around him.

After the men had enjoyed their wine for a while, Borgarson spoke up again.

“The quality of the Borna wine is truly remarkable.”

“Expect much more of the same, now that our trade routes are guaranteed. Now the empire is divided, and so cleanly as well,” Kallas added, “Our traders get to go from Porcero through the northern pass, fully controlled by Prince Amautu, while the Cahlia people can go from Mediro through the southern pass, the Argu and the Tears, all the way to the Verduic Sea... all under control of Prince Pacha. Even better, the princes believe that it was their own idea! Truly, we have been provided with the greatest support.” The fat merchant took another gulp to empty his goblet. Without even looking over, he grasped for the bottle again.

“Just be sure to uphold your end of the bargain. We have opened Medala to you, and we can just as well rescind the favor,” Chaupic said.

“No need to worry, good sire. You will get all the Arcavist priests you want, and they will work themselves to the bone until your master is a god himself. It is within the interest of the Arcavus church as well, to show the power of the Lords and purge the heretical cults of the heathens.”

“You best stay out of the south with that crap.” Villca had remained on the sideline the whole time, silent. But now, he downed his brandy with a grim mien, as he rubbed the axe on the table and watched the other men talk happily. He might have worked with them, but Chaupic knew that the southern lord wasn't too happy with his allies, especially with their attempt to remove the Pacha faith from Medala.

“Lord Villca,” Chaupic said, his immovable smile still on his lips, “perhaps you should worry about containing King Corco first, before considering the beliefs of the commoners. There is no reason to pretend to be noble, not after all the shameful acts you have committed.”

“What did you say to me, servant!?” Villca stood up, ready for a fight. It had been a pointless provocation from Chaupic, but he already felt the heaviness in his arms. Now, good manners didn't matter any more. Now, he could vent all the frustrations he had felt over the passing months and weeks.

The balding lord gripped his axe tight and pulled it off the table, scattering food and wine all around them. His heavy steps moved him over to Chaupic. With how inebriated he was, it would be impossible to tell what he would do once he reached his goal, but it wouldn't matter. Halfway past the merchants, the lord stumbled. His right leg gave in and he soon found himself lying on the ground, just the same as the man he had stepped on before. Under the curious glances of the merchants and Chaupic's venomous grin, he tried to push himself up. However his arms simply quivered for a while before they followed his legs and gave in as well. In panic, Villca looked up to Chaupic, and then over to the bottle they had all just drunk from.

“How is the brandy, Lord Villca? This servant hopes it will be to your taste.” Chaupic's quiet voice rang out. It was barely audible over the revelry around them, but it was the best he could do by now. He thought back to the day King Corco's servant had paid him a visit, the man who seemed so simple, but hid even deeper than he or the eastern merchants ever had.

“You wish to prove yourself, Chaupic di Pluritac? There is a way, beyond simply giving a message to Viribus. However, it will require a different kind of sacrifice.”

With a clink, a green glass vial landed on the table between the two men.

“And what would be the contents of this container?” Chaupic asked.

“It's poison, though to you, it's redemption. I'm sure you know how to use it, and on whom. I'll just leave this here. If you are indeed the man you claim to be, I will hear of your deeds soon enough, after the succession is over. If you are not, then I will deny this conversation ever happened. It's time to choose your role among history. There's only the one chance, so make it count.”

“What have you done?” The accusing finger of the fat merchant pointed at Chaupic's face. With the poison spread throughout his body, he couldn't do much more than complain.

“I chose redemption, nothing more. You three are the greatest blight upon this country, apart from the great ancestor. After today, he will be the only man in the way of a united Medala... and the old monster can't live forever, no matter how much he wishes for it.”

“Why?” A wide-eyed Villca asked with a whisper.

“Truly a coward. You do not believe that any man in Medala believes your stories of heroism, do you? You are small, and you are weak. To further your ambitions, you have risked the very future of the empire. I will fix that. Once word spreads that the personal confidant of Elder Viribus has poisoned the new leader of the southern lords and the eastern dignitaries, I wonder what will happen?” Chaupic tried to smile, a real one for once, but his face had gone stiff from the poison.

The politician looked over to the merchants as they slid off their chairs, already paralyzed. He didn't have much time left himself, so rather than wait for the answer from his shocked co-conspirators, he answered his own question. “In the north, there will be war between Medala and Arcavia. After today, they will not come forth with such soft methods again. Your deaths will set trust between our people back decades. Once we are at war, there will be no way to install your cult here. Meanwhile, the south will be without a leader again, chaotic. Who else but the new king could rise to unite the southern lords? It will be the bastion of our people.”

“You bastard! I will kill you! In this life or the next!” Villca gathered all his strength to shout, but even the cultivator's voice had grown weak by now.

“No Lord Villca,” Chaupic whispered in response, “you will be busy. There is a message I was told to deliver: Lord Saqartu awaits you on the other side, axe at the ready.” Chaupic could see the fuzzy silhouette of the downed lord shouting at him, but by now, he had lost his hearing. Finally, for the first time in years, he had done the right thing. Chaupic had truly hoped he could see it, the future of the country. He would lay it in Corco's hands, for he had done his duty. They were his last thoughts before his world went black.

Around the lords, the celebrations were still underway. Stumbling and screaming lords had been nothing unusual today, so no one had taken notice of the four most noble people in the building, as they fell asleep one by one. It would take hours more for anyone to notice the corpses.