“Great master, please let this poor mortal go,” the slight tremble only made the woman's light voice sound more attractive, but no amount of beauty would change his course.

“Please excuse me, Miss. This warrior cannot comply. The orders of the house need to be fulfilled.” Kizco, warrior of house Rubria, looked back with a frown. This wasn't the first time he did this sort of work for his master. After all, women were one of the few past times the people of Yakuharra had. As the northernmost border town of Medala, few traders would find their way here. There was very little in the way of entertainment. Not even the traveling folk would often make it through the hills, mountains and bandits.

“But master, why do we walk in the dark?” A sigh escaped the warrior's lips. How could this woman understand his plight? His actions were motivated by the wished of his future lord, young master Primu Rubria. Young master Primu always trained his hardest to become a fitting lord in the future, but from time to time, he would see a pretty girl in town and order for her to be brought to his private quarters. Of course his mother, head of the house until the young master's maturity rites, really disliked this sort of activity.

Not only would frequent meetings with unknown women make the young master more vulnerable to attacks, they were also unseemly for a young noble. After all, what would a future lord want with some commoner women? Still, it was the young master's only vice in a life of discipline and hard work. How could Kizco deny him his only pleasure, even more when his personal happiness was on the line as well?

“Miss, please do not make trouble for this servant. This servant only follows master's orders and has no choice in the matter,” he answered at last. For a while they walked in silence, ever deeper down the dark corridors of Rubria Castle. Like most castles in the north, the building was designed in more of a Chutwa style. However, compared to the vain and fanciful east where Chutwa buildings were all the rage, here the sturdy houses had tradition. While the easterners found it fashionable to pretend like they lived in the far west, Yakuharra needed the stocky buildings with the thick walls to defend itself from northern raiders.

“Please, master. This servant has a family as well. Do not force this servant.”

Again, he looked back. Indeed, the woman was a good bit older than his master's usual choices. She was most likely married already. Even so, when he had seen her satin skin and those bright hazel eyes, he hadn't questioned his master's decision even for a second. Rather, he himself was curious what sort of beauty hid under her long cloak. Of course, he would never touch his master's woman. He wasn't suicidal, and the dice were already vice enough for him.

“Young miss, you should know that the young master has hand-picked you himself. It is a great honor to be chosen by young master Primu. You should have heard the tales around town as well. Young master does not force anyone. He spends the night with a beautiful woman from his lands, ladens her with treasures and sends her home. Soon, you will be back with your family, and you will live much richer lives than you have ever before. If you really wish, we can turn around right now.”

“...this servant will comply with the young master's orders.” A small smile crept onto Kizco's face. Most of master's women decided like this in the end. Some worried they would be killed by the wrath of their master, so in the end they all chose to submit. What else could they do, as they were only common folk under the eye of their lord.

Even for him, things weren't different. Whenever he received the cryptic, anonymous letters from the young master's servants, he would rush out and do this sort of work. Now that he knew his young master's secret vice, what else could he do? Even worse, his own vice had turned into a costly endeavor over the years. The extra coin he received with every letter were just enough to cover his cost. At this point, he just hoped the woman would not make any trouble and stay docile until she entered the master's chambers. Then, Kizco could return to his dice as soon as possible.

Again and again, Primu swung his axe into the trough of sand. Of course he knew that in a real fight, his enemy wouldn't just lie there and let him hack away. Still, it was a good method to build up further strength. Even more, when Primu would stand in front of his first foe, faced with the burden of taking another man's life, his body would be practiced, and deliver a clean swing all on its own. At least that was how he had heard it told.

Done with his training for the day, the young master put the axe to the side. Then he picked up the heavy trough, a feat far beyond ordinary mortals, and poured the sand over his body. As the course grains ran across his skin to peel away impurities and soak up his sweat, young master Primu thought about the man who had taught him how to practice.

Not long ago, his father had seemed invincible to him. Now he was dead. Of course, the men of House Rubria always lived in danger, but his father had died in the capital, as part of some meaningless plot, rather than here, during his duties. What a shame on his house the death had been, what a stain to wash away again.

Still in thought, Primu walked to the little spring in the corner of his training area and began to wash off the sand stuck to his body.

Even now, the members of House Rubria had no concrete proof who his father's murderer had been. Although there had been rumors, they had been conflicting. Though of course, the ally and nominal ruler of their house, the young King Amautu, was the prime suspect. After all, the sly King Amautu had never liked his father all that much. Unlike the Chutwa-influenced lords of the west, House Rubria had always been more traditional in their ways. Only their geographical position had forced them into Amautu's camp during the war for succession. Trapped between the Sallqata mountains in the east, the Deep Sea in the west, barbarian tribes in the north and Amautu's allies in the south, they couldn't pick their allegiance. In the end, the alliance had cost his father's life, one way or another.

After his servants dried off Primu and returned his cleaned and polished axe, he made his way back into the castle. Under the light of the evening sun, the young master considered their current dilemma. Now bound to a king who did neither like nor trust them, House Rubria was pushed to the fringes. Even though their contributions to the safety of the north were immeasurable, their advantage from the new trade with the foreigners would be minor. If recent rumors were true, King Amautu also intended to cut the support they received from the other lords for their stalwart defense.

Even so, they had an ancient duty to defend the noble lands of Medala from the barbarian tribes in the north. Those unwashed hordes would flood south every winter, to raid the villages around Yakuharra and plunder food, treasure and women alike. For centuries, only House Rubria had stood against the hordes, and thus this burden had become his to carry. After his father's death, he further intensified his training, despite his youth. Who else but him would defend the north from the outsiders?

Again he looked up, and found himself in a dark corridor. A tiny sigh escaped his lips, but in panic, he looked over his shoulders right away. At least there were no servants around to see his weakness. Still, he felt like his sigh had been well-justified. Lost in thought, he had taken a peculiar path to his private quarters. This dim corridor, far off the main house, was the route he would only take when he wanted to avoid his mother's eyes. Most of the time, he and the current head of House Rubria got along fine, but when it came to the young master's past time, she didn't understand any fun.

Of course he knew that as a woman herself, mother would dislike his philandering ways. Even worse, he had a preference for young and pretty commoner girls. In their drab and dangerous lands, it was the only real enjoyment he ever had. However, even this had been taken from him. How could he play around with girls if his exhaustion matched the mountain giants after every day of training? Maybe once he had matured into a man, Primu could find the time to enjoy life again.

Exhausted in both body and spirit, the young master entered his room at last. Without a care, he threw his axe into the corner, next to its usual stand, and forced his way to the bed, where he fell face-down. At first, the warm and soft pillows embraced his tired body. However, as he was about to drift off into an uneasy sleep, an irrepressible itch overcame him. Despite his best efforts, tiny kernels of sand had escaped his bath and clung to his body.

Annoyed, the young master turned and sat up, before he froze in shock.

“Good evening, young master Rubria.”

By the door stood a strange woman, and greeted him like one of his servants would.

“Who are you!? How dare you sneak in here!” he tried to right his body and grabbed for his axe, but his strained muscles barely moved and he had left his axe in the corner of the room, distant like the sun for a fight. Meanwhile, the robed woman revealed the glint of a short sword in her hand.

With her appearance, no doubt was she an assassin. No doubt would her blade be poisoned. He had read the stories of secret killers, trained by other families to take out their enemies. Even though he was a powerful warrior and she only a weak woman, he wasn't sure of his victory, and he knew he wouldn't escape a cut and suffer the poison.

“Young master, please excuse this servant's impudence, but young master is a difficult man to get hold of. The security measures of the great northern wall of House Rubria is truly impressive. Without young master's convenient vice, this servant might not have had the honor to meet the heir to the great Rubria name.” As the woman stepped forward, her face peeled out of the shadows and was covered in the orange glow from the narrow windows.

For his own tastes, she was far too old, maybe in her late thirties. Still, her shallow smile and her bright eyes were calming, almost intoxicating to those who saw her. Most people would consider her a rare beauty. Both her skin and her hair were far too well-maintained to be a commoner. A hint to her identity! This woman hailed from a warrior clan, and thus had been sent here by her master, a Medalan lord.

“Who sent you?” Primu growled, as his hand inched to the knife hidden in the shelve beside the bed. He had keep talking, had to buy some time. “If you wish to take me down, you should have sent more than a meek woman.”

“Young master, Please be assured. This servant has no interest in your death. In fact,” she made her knife disappear within her robe. “This weapon was only meant as a precautionary measure. How could this servant know young master's reaction to an intruder in his own chamber? Even so, the meeting had to be arranged, despite the risks. After all, young master's mother is far too conservative in her ways.”

“Do you wish to insult my mother?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Far from it. Any mother is worthy of admiration, even more so in times of adversity.” For a second, Primu felt like he could see behind the woman's perfect smile, but the moment went before he could catch more than a glimpse. “For our purposes, young master is the one to speak to. If this servant may be allowed a question: What does young master think of King Amautu?”

Almost there, Primu thought, as he pulled up his body even more. In the process, he kicked up his bedding in a natural motion, to cover the shelf. Now he could reach for his weapon without notice from the assassin. With a knife of his own, it would be a fair fight.

Keep her talking.

“Amautu? That traitor who killed my father for his petty political games? Is that who has sent you?”

As Primu closed his hand around the soft leather of the dagger's hilt, the woman's smile turned wider.

“In that case, it appears as if we can work together well. Young master Rubria, it might be a bit late, but please allow this servant the honor of an introduction.”

The woman hinted at a bow. At the same time, Primu realized that ever since he had opened the shelf, hers eyes had never left his arm and her hand had once again disappeared into her cloak. No matter who she was, she never let her guard down.

“This servant's name is Antaya di Pluritac, temporary master of King Corcopaca Titu Pluritac's ghost warrior squadron. This servant's husband, Great General Atoc, and young master's father have been battle companions in the past. Now this woman has come to his heir, on order of King Corcopaca, to strike another alliance, deal a blow to King Amautu and offer young master a way out of his dilemma.”

For a moment the silent standoff continued, but the young master's grip eased far simpler than he had thought. Without a sound, the dagger disappeared into the shelf again.

“I am listening. You better make it worth my while.”