King Zander Alexander VI held court from his throne. The few nobles loyal and brave enough to attend were almost paralyzed, fearing their liege's wrath. King Zander wasn't happy. For centuries his bloodline held the throne and the nation of Bast grew strong and proud. Now, because of one horny idiot, ruin was at his doorstep. He groaned, a low-pitch roar rumbled the throne room specifically designed to amplify that kind of sound. He could smell the fear of the nobles, rotten sycophants.

War was at his doorstep. Calanthe, the maritime potency, was marching toward their border. Usually, just the dangers of attacking a superior enemy would be enough to dissuade them from striking but the other nations also mobilized their armies. Their ambassadors were quick in lying to Zander, telling it was just a self-defense measure, to keep the war from spilling over to their own lands. The vultures were biding their time. Should Calanthe be successful in capturing Honeywitch, they would invade from all sides.

What made it worse was that if Zander committed his forces to repel Calanthe, he'd not move fast enough to defend the other border towns from invasion. The greedy bastards would strike, conquer, and hold. Eight provinces would vanish. And if he kept enough reserve to defend these eight provinces, he would be ill-equipped to defend against Calanthe's offensive.

The King threw his goblet down on the floor, three meters below his throne. The metal cup bent and nicked the marble. Then he roared.

"Where is the sea-whore?" He asked the ones kneeling in front of the steps.

"We don't know the princess' whereabouts. We captured the ones that helped her escape the palace but they revealed nothing of use during the interrogation. We suspect she is at the Lyceum."

The King felt an urge to kill the imbeciles in front of him. To ran his claws through their throats, to taste their blood. When did his spymaster become so incompetent? Didn't he know better than to throw idle words to the wind? Why did he mention the Lyceum now? It was obvious the institution's neutrality wouldn't grant sanctuary to a foreigner that was not a student.

"Suspect?"

"Most nereids fled the capital, Your Majesty. The ones that didn't are students that live in the Lyceum's dormitories."

"Calanthe withdrew all its students from the Lyceum months ago. From where are these nereids?"

"They are your subjects, your majesty."

The nobles whispered among themselves. From what Zander's high Perception and Reason could capture of the side-conversations, the idiots were planning on raiding the Lyceum. Zander narrowed his eyes as he thought. He'd let them raid on their own. If they achieved good results, he'd reward them. If they didn't, he would have to punish them to keep his good relations with the Lyceum. Princess Serena was not there, he was sure of it. She also didn't leave the city as he had knights on all exits.

He gave only one order, "Find her! And bring the sea-whore to me alive!" And the fools would either prove their worth or not. He rested his shoulders and his chamberlain took a step forward.

"Court dismissed!" He shouted.

The nobles left the throne room. Zander stayed on his throne. Thinking. Princess Serena was the catalyst for this war but now she was just another pawn. Calanthe would attack based on the suspicion his son kidnapped her. The worst outcome was if she died. Calanthe's campaign would be legitimized and their troops would gain a boost to morale from the outrage. Some neighbors might even declare war outright. Allowing her to return on her own would be almost as bad. She would become the rallying flag, the heroine, and the Kingdom of Bast, the villains.

Returning her would show weakness. His pride demanded him to show no weakness. Capturing her but making the information public, like dragging the girl kicking and screaming out of the Lyceum would show how faulty the palace security was. Their best outcome would be to capture her and return her to the palace in secret. She would become a token for negotiation, a weak one.

It would not be beneath Calanthe to assassinate their own princess and pin the blame on Bast. Zander needed the girl alive. His thoughts were interrupted by someone approaching from the side. He knew who but he didn't want to acknowledge or deal with it.

"Father?" Fourth Prince Tyre's voice came from his side.

Zander didn't answer.

"I'll capture her, father. I'll take my knights and strike the fools that are giving her shelter. I promise you that."

Another custom Zander would forbid if he could. Every member of the royal family had a company of knights that answered to them. While the prince would answer for their actions, it would happen only after the fact.

"Do as you will with the troops that are yours to command," Zander finally spoke to his son. "But either come back with her or not at all."

Even without looking Zander knew the boy misunderstood his words as encouragement. He was weak and it was Zander's fault. This cub was spoiled by his mother. It wasn't forged into a real Leonid and Zander was too busy to oversee it.

"I will show those scholars to not mess with the royal family, father!"

Now Bast was poised to lose a company of knights. The teaching staff of the Lyceum wasn't no pushover. In the darkness of Zander's heart, he would even reward Tyre's killer. Weakness was a sin.

A few days later, news of disaster arrived. Tyre tried subtle methods first, like using the knights recruiting students for the war to search the premises to no avail. The nereids in the campus barricaded themselves as hostilities surfaced after that odious court session. Like sharks smelling blood on the water, the guilds and the Lyceum forbade the knights from recruiting their members. And now, this.

Without the knights inside the campus, the nobles used another group. Their own vassals and loyal retainers that had students in the institution. They mounted an attack and publicly declared doing so, out in the open, drunk in their hubris. The outcome couldn't be another. The teachers massacred the loyalists.

King Zander Alexander VI held court once again. But this time, the nobles weren't afraid of his wrath. Or at least it wasn't their dominant emotion. The outrage at the deaths of their scions, retainers, and vassals had to be avenged. They were the ones that attacked, that broke ancient covenants and now they demanded retribution.

He roared to demand silence. It was his court and he would be shown either respect or blood. Then he flicked a claw and the chamberlain stepped forward.

"Bring them in," The chamberlain proclaimed.

The doors opened and three entered. A draconid, regal in his black and gold uniform, wings folded behind him. Xalazuniox, the Dean of the Lyceum. A pixie, Amaryllis of the Adventurer's Guild, flying so her head would be at the same height as a person. A high elf, Aerlindel, head of the mage guild. They walked to the designated distance and knelt.

"Your Majesty," They followed tradition and showed their respect, but not their subservience. These were not his subjects. The guilds and Lyceum enjoyed some independence. These multinational organizations paid their taxes to the last grain of Essence but they didn't allow the Kingdom to rule over them.

"Welcome. You may speak."

Xalazuniox was the first to speak. "We are here to uphold the old covenants. Your nation is going to war. We will not hinder or help you or your enemies. Our grounds shall remain neutral. To that effect, we had to expel some students that took up arms and incited a mutiny in the campus yesterday."

Then the damned Pixie. "The Adventurer's Guild is withdrawing from Bast for the moment, your Majesty. Our members will travel south. I was assaulted by one of your knights a few days ago. Until the war ends, we are stopping our operations in this country."

Zander almost crushed the armrest of his throne. The Adventurers injected precious Essence from their delves into the economy. The taxes they paid were a big portion of the nation's budget. He needed Essence, he needed cards. Without the Adventurers farming the open Dungeons, his only choice was to increase the quota for the prisoner mines. That would be a downward spiral. He could see. The increased quotas equaled increased mortality. That would force the wardens to convict more people so they could keep their quotas. The population wouldn't be happy. Support levels would plummet, the morale of the army would soon follow.

"The mages' guild will also withdraw, your Majesty. We shall call all our members to the Sanctuary Forest until the war ends."

After the first two, Zander expected the third to go the same way.

"Is there anything else?" He asked. Nobody answered. "You are dismissed."

Zander's eyes turned slowly, catching each of the nobles. He wanted to see which one was stupid enough to act or speak now. He needed someone to vent his frustration and the King just waited for a volunteer to show up. Unfortunately, none came forward. The trio left the throne room and the doors closed behind them.

The message was clear. Bast was on its own, the three institutions would not help. Dare to strike one of them and all three would turn on the kingdom.

War was coming. King Zander Alexander VI would fight it alone.