Herak was equal parts annoyed and bored, as had been the case so often over these past years.

His arm swung down, and the axe head at the end of the handle sank deeply into the flesh. Lodged like this, he had to use his foot for leverage to get it back out again. By then, he had already made sure that the body was no longer breathing.

Only then could he move on to the next target. Although the work was monotonous, it calmed him down. At least here, he could feel like he did something meaningful for a while, and it also gave him some time to think, without hearing the constant yapping from the natives.

A one-sided battle. Thismust be what peace looks like to these barbarians, Duke Herak thought as he sank another axe into a downed enemy warrior.

The war in the north had been lasting for years now, and it seemed like neither side had any problem with it, as if constant warfare was the most normal thing in the world. Although the three medalan kingdoms had signed official peace treaties, all sides committed constant, tiny moves in secret to drain each other of resources.

Yes, King Pachacutec had ceded control over two of his northern estates. And the estates, together with their lords and people, had joined king Amautu’s northern kingdom. The two kings had even declared peace in public. Yet that didn’t mean that the fighting had stopped. It seemed like ‘false bandits’ was a favorite trick in these lands.

Ever since the end of the wars, no uniformed armies had drawn blood anymore. However, the number of mysterious bandit groups with excellent equipment, as well as the training and ability of proper warriors, had suddenly multiplied. It really wasn’t hard to tell who was behind the attacks either. Though it was never said out loud, no one was trying very hard to hide the truth.

The bandits he had fought in the years since the start of the ‘peace’ had been countless, and all of them had been part of that strange group of abnormally strong warriors whom they had faced in their war against the northern kingdom as well.

Since then, the spies of the central kingdom had been making some progress, at least in this one area. According to the translated reports he had seen, the strength of these new warriors was due to unique cultivation techniques from the Chutwa Empire, but that didn’t have much meaning to Herak.

Even with more muscle, these ones died just as readily when hit by a bullet. Rather than greater physical strength, modern guns were the weapons of the future. Over the same years it had taken the northern kingdom to train these people, his own men – as well as the craftsmen of the central kingdom – had successfully copied the rifles they had plundered during the war against the southern kingdom.

The new flintlock guns were excellent both in rate of fire and accuracy, though even the ones made by Borna’s best clock makers still seemed inferior to the weapons that Corco Fastgrade had brought north with him three years prior.

At the thought of his archenemy, Herak’s teeth ground audibly beneath his bronze mask. Only another split head of a fallen ‘bandit’ managed to still his anger, just barely. The little merchant was the reason he had been banished to this god-forsaken place, which had already wasted almost five years of his life. And the little merchant’s kingdom was also the reason he was still stuck here, with no end in sight.

The old Medala Empire that they had been dealing with in years past had split into three smaller kingdoms, just like Herak and his Arcavian allies had wanted. Back then, it had seemed like a smart move to them. With three kingdoms fighting for control over the peninsula, they would fall over each other to work with the kingdom of Borna, a powerful outside force that could give them financial support, as well as powerful weapons. In order to gain control over this little country, the kingdoms would make more and more concessions to Borna and Cahlia to gain their support.

By then, it would have been easy to achieve some measure of control over their three palaces, and gain the preferential trade deals that they were really craving. In truth, there wasn’t much to this place that attracted the kingdom of Borna, except maybe an abundance of silver.

Beyond that, these little kingdoms were only relevant because they happened to be in the way of a sea route to the Chutwa Empire, so free trade and safe passage was all they had wanted. However, their clever strategy of division was now the very thing that made work impossible for their merchants.

In the end, they hadn’t accounted for two things: The ambition of the greedy locals, and the easy access this region had to every other part of the world, not only to Arcavia.

Most of the local lords were not happy to see them, and even the ones that were all had their own plans with their presence. Many would abuse their positions and steal from them as much as they could in so-called ‘deals’, while giving back as little as possible. Stuck between the sinister plots of various factions, outnumbered and far from home, Herak’s own people drew the short end of the stick far too often during negotiations.

This was especially true for the southern king. As someone who used to be a merchant in Borna, Corco Fastgrade knew exactly how much a piece of Chutwaglaze would go for on a market back home. Worst of all, the little king had a personal vendetta against Herak and had done everything in his power to make things difficult for the duke.

As a result, the merchants of Cahlia were allowed to buy Chutwa products from the south, though at absurd prices, while those from Borna were still shut out. Like this, the merchant king had turned their dividing strategy against them. The Cahlians saw little reason to change the current status quo, where they could earn stable profits back home and show off their achievements in front of the Cahlian king.

In the meantime, the Bornish merchants still had to land at Porcero in the northern kingdom, and travel a long distance over a vast mountain range to get across Medala, which had proven to be a massive challenge. All the way, they would be hindered by conveniently appearing bandit groups or barbarians. And every time they talked to the local lords about security, those natives would complain instead.

Some were even audacious enough to use the chance and blame the attractive merchant caravans for the increase in banditry, only to then levy another tax on Borna’s people, to ‘fund the guards and guarantee peace along the route’. By now, Herak hated King Amautu almost as much as he did King Corco.

The northern king was another man who seemed uninterested in contact with the mighty heroes of Arcavia. After all, his own backing was just as impressive as that provided by the sons of Arcavus.

Behind the northern kingdom stood the Chutwa Empire, who seemed to have bankrolled King Amautu in an effort to spread their scholar ‘religion’ to this part of the world. Although he didn’t know how much the mighty Chutwa Empire really cared about some tiny country across the ocean, even a fraction of the golden empire’s power was enough to make the northern kingdom a frightening opponent.

Whatever plan the Chutwa scholars had for the northern kingdom, they no longer wanted to involve Borna into it. Over the years, they had made life for the merchants traveling their lands more and more difficult.

Thus, Borna’s only allies were situated in the central kingdom of Medala, and even their local king had begun to distance himself from them for some reason. On top of that, the north and center had fought in secret again and again, trying to tire the other side out. These instances had only intensified as the Triumvirate in the center of the country had stagnated. Over time, less and less work was being done in that place, with almost no overall policy being fashioned there for the empire, or any of its countries.

As far as Herak knew, none of the triumvirs – the three kings of Medala – had personally attended a Triumvirate Meeting in the past year. Thus, these secret wars had become the only ways in which the triumvirs communicated these days. Since the southern kingdom was cut off from the other two bar a thin strip of land, the battles mostly took place between the northern and central kingdoms.

And in order to retain their shaky position within the central kingdom’s power structure, Herak and his men had been forced into action more times than he cared to count. Again and again, they had launched frontal attacks against fake bandits to prove their worth to the local nobles.

This had been another one of these many battles. Over the past few days, Herak had led especially many charges against the ‘bandit camps’ across the border of Central Medala, reaching all the way into their supply camps in the northern kingdom. Though of course, none of this had been his own idea. As had become usual in these years, he was just following the orders of another local, in return for a price that was hardly worth the cost.

Another axe swing ended another life, which also ended Herak’s duty. At least at a glance, he couldn’t spot any survivors among the bandits. Whatever rabble was left under the pile of corpses could be handled by his knights. What else would he have subordinates for? In fact, there wasn’t much need for him to show up here in person. He had only come this time to let off some of his frustration. Though despite all the swings, he didn’t really feel much better today. Thus, he returned to the nearby town, to ruin someone else’s day instead.

The heroes who had wiped out the local bandit camps were welcomed back inside the city walls by a jubilant crowd, but the cheers stopped as soon as they saw the returning army, covered in blood. To them, their leader must have looked worst of all, red from his shiny mask to his boots and his bloody axe still in his hand. More than anything in this godless place, Herak enjoyed the fear others showed towards him. Since the locals had brought him nothing but grief, the least he could do was give them a bit of it back.

Like this, still caked in the blood of his enemies, he marched up to the local castle, where he ignored the fawning servants with the terrified expressions on their faces. He didn’t need them, since he knew where to go.

Just follow the stench of rosewater to find the richest man in the city.

That seemed to be a good method in this kingdom, where everyone was decadent and stank of flowers. In front of some garden’s entrance, Herak shoved one of the useless guards out of the way, until he reached his goal. Inside a pavilion stood the man who was so intent on using him as a weapon.

At the moment, the overambitious Governor Ichilia was in deep conversation with the local lord called Menius, one of his loyal dogs. They spoke their gibberish language, so Herak didn’t understand them. At one point he had learned a few words, but he had long stopped caring about the ideas of the foreigners. Most of the time, he didn’t need to understand them anyways, as was the case now.

They stopped talking as soon as they noticed his presence. The local dog tried to say some words to the duke, but was only stared down. As they always did, the man only lasted a few seconds under Herak’s gaze, before he lost his stomach. The dog exchanged a few more words of gibberish with Ichilia, before he left the garden with a distressed expression.

“Duke Herak, this governor thought you busy with the local bandits. What brings you back here this soon?” Ichilia finally asked in proper high Arcavian, seemingly unaffected by Herak’s martial appearance.

“I have already done your dirty work. Were you not expecting me to come back?” Herak sneered, though he wasn’t sure if Ichilia would see it under the mask. “Or rather, you would prefer if I never made it back in the first place?”

“Nonsense. Why would this governor wish ill upon his closest ally?” Ichilia asked with faked indignation.

“Then what am I doing here!?” Herak blew up, stepping right up to the lanky lord’s face. However, he saw that Ichilia remained unmoved, so he lowered his tone again, at least somewhat. “There is no point to any of these fights, so are these not just attempts to tire out my men? And what do we get in return? I have been doing your dirty work for you for years, and there has been no progress on any of your promises. Our merchants are still struggling to pass through your lands, and the southern king is just as alive as he has always been.”

“Are we not dealing with this problem now?” Ichilia asked, and stepped half a step back from Herak’s face. Although he barely showed any reaction, the duke still felt that the governor was at least somewhat affected by his intimidation.

Almost like he’s human, Herak thought. Irregardless of the duke’s thoughts, Ichilia continued.

“Now that the hidden warriors of the northern kingdom have been wiped out, they will not be a threat to our lands anymore, at least for a while. Our troops are ready, and free to move. Now we need only wait for the right time, and we are ready to begin our invasion of the southern kingdom.”

“You have told me the same tale for years. Do not take me as a fool? All these years we have fought those fake bandits for you, yet their numbers never dwindle. We destroy a wave, and that northern kingdom just trains another couple thousand elite warriors in no more than a few months.”

Although the local spies had found out that these warriors were the result of a Chutwa cultivation technique, Herak had a hard time accepting that there was nothing more to their training. These people were showing up too quickly, and they were too strong. There had to be a limit or weakness to this technique, somewhere. However, Herak didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t trust his useless allies to tell him anytime soon.

“And yet we win these months of peace every time,” his useless ally claimed. “Now that we have won some peacetime against the northern kingdom, we can simply take our troops down south, to deal with your enemy. Then, we only need to wait for the right opportunity to launch our all-out attack. With the southern kingdom under our control, your merchants will get to move freely through Medala at last.”

“And when will that be? The same words, every time.” Herak repeated. “My best man is stuck on some goddamned island in the middle of nowhere, fighting to keep that little king’s army busy. I already had to remove guards from our northern trade caravans to reinforce the troops there. How much more of the work do you expect me to do? Will you ever carry your own weight?”

“Not to worry. The war will begin soon. We are already in our final negotiations.”

Herak looked at the great governor’s expressionless face with derision. This man wore his face like a mask, harder and colder than his own. Behind his shallow smile, he was always plotting his little ploys. This was normal for the insidious locals, but this one was the worst of the bunch. No doubt, Herak himself was also a pawn in some grander plan in Ichilia’s head.

However, the duke himself didn’t care much, not anymore. He didn’t even care about those damn trade routes anymore. They were barely making any money anyways, and he would just be happy to get away from this wet place and its sinister people. So long as he got another chance at fighting Corco Fastgrade, he would be satisfied.

If only he could strangle that little merchant, every other problem could be solved. And if this governor wouldn’t fulfill his wishes soon, Herak would simply kill him, and then look for someone who would. After years of blind rage, he finally had his priorities straight. Now that he was focused, nothing would get in the way of his revenge.