Sitting in a circle, Jonas and his honor guards studied a hastily drawn map of the harbor. It lacked a lot of details showing how foreign they actually were to the surrounding lands. If it wasn't for Jalen’s help, they would have been stuck with what they could see only.

Jonas sighed.

“Are you sure we can’t just bombard them to oblivion?”

Huemara laughed as Frezar pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, Young Master. Too many innocents live on the harbor.”

“Why aren't they being evacuated then?” Jonas said.

“Those...pirates-lowlives, degenerate, filth-are using them as shields from our cannons. They know we will not fire,” Frezar explained for the fourth time. Each with as much vehemence as the first time.

“Sire,” Ash said in a soft voice. “You’ve left us in a troublesome situation. Our resources are limited. Soldiers few. Weapons chained down and ineffective. If it wasn’t for that idiot from Petrous city just up the mountain, I’d say this is almost impossible. Almost. Luckily, you have me.”

Jonas flinched. Ash’s smile was predatory. It clawed at his base instincts to run and hide or roll up into a ball. He had to gulp before reply to her.

“You’ve mentioned the ‘idiot from Petrous’ quite a few times. I have yet to meet with him, is he really that stupid? I’d say the pirates are the fools if anyone. They were crushed by Gregor. Their strongest men killed-”

Jalen coughed as the rest of his guards smiled knowingly. They knew something he hadn’t noticed. Or at least assumed he knew? They looked awkward as they fidgeted about in their spots.

“Alright. What is it?”

Jalen scratched his head with a dopey smile. “Well, we aren’t exactly the real muscle of the Seven Rulers-”

“Fake rulers. Only the young master is entitled to these lands,” Frezar quickly added in a single breath.

“-we’re what you’d call the second level of power. Otherwise, they wouldn’t exist with all the pressure they have down their backs from the city and orcish marauders. Though they almost never show up since a fight between them and the big wigs would cause quite the collateral damage.”

“So, they would match Gregor? Or what?” Jonas needed something more concrete. A scale of power would have been awesome.

“Close enough to make it tough.”

Jonas frowned as he looked at his guards. If Gregor was the most powerful, how would they win this entire thing? And more importantly, why were they so confident? They couldn’t possibly be relying on luck, could they?

Ash laughed like she guessed his train of thought. “You don’t have to worry. Gregor here is the rookie between us. A talented one, but a rookie nevertheless. See that idiot there,” she nodded to the male mage who was snoring with his back bent backward on a chair far to small for himself. “He could probably kill us all if he really got into it. Just a right and straight lazy bastard. Can’t get him to do anything. How he is so powerful, I will never know.”

“Really? Him?” Jonas was incredulous. The mage left the worst impression between them all, falling asleep the second they got into the room and snoring loudly to boot. Jonas really had to work on fixing how he evaluates people. That’s twice he failed to see potential strength or talent, not counting Jalen of course.

Jonas got up from his chair, sending it screeching back startling the sleeping mage. “Either way, let me go see what this ‘idiot from Petrous’ wants. Frezar, Ash, Medulis, would you care to join me.” He turned to walk away with a smirk on his face and quickly followed by Frezar’s hurried steps and Ash’s laughter.

---

Jonas had to rub his forehead in utter suffering. He had the mother of all migraines, killer of all headaches, a massacre of all brain cells-whatever those were supposed to be. He wanted to jump out of the small window of his office and just end it. Enough of the suffering, at least in death he would feel nothing.

You wanted a way to torture someone to death, send him to speak with the man before him. The constant droning of the nasal voice from hell. The complete nonsense that continuously spewed from his mouth and all with a straight face.

How someone like him was sent to negotiate with a potential ally or enemy was absolutely beyond Jonas. Was this the current situation with the noble class? Did they really fall so low as to give birth to such degenerated minds?

“-expect a monthly harbor tax of a thousand gold coins, followed by a bi-monthly installment of property payments that we’ve roughly estimated to be around two thousand eight hundred and thirty-five gold coins. Of course, that not mentioning the equal tax act we have placed for your convenience and as payment for our help in the upcoming battle. Did I mention we demand ninety-five percent of the lands taken from pirates and mercenaries?”

Jonas had enough of this entitled twit. “Father above! Forgive me please, because I am about to murder someone in broad daylight! Do you think gold coins grow on trees?!”

“It is the price of our assistance. We are nobles with well trained warriors and powerful knights. You should feel honored-”

“Enough! You get ten percent of the Harbor and surrounding lands, second choice, and taxed-35% of the annual income, estimated of course-without reprieves. Go back to Petrous. Tell them either to accept or prepare their glorified city to be burned down with everyone living in it! Now…,” Jonas took a deep breath. “Get. Off. My. Ship!”

The freaking idiot flapped his mouth like a fish for a few seconds before getting up in a huff. Throwing his cloak in an overly dramatic fashion, the fop stomped out of the office. Slamming the door behind him.

Jonas groaned. “My head, my poor, poor head. It's all mush now, it might leak out of my skull at any moment.”

“Stop being dramatic. This is how negotiations with most nobles go if they don't think you're at their level. I mean, why you just don’t show them the royal decree and demand they send soldiers is beyond me. It would be much faster to force their hands,” Ash said after letting out her staple chuckle. “Guess those thick books did little to get you prepared for that now did they.”

“How’d you know I-”

“Your father had us set up for you since you were born. He was just waiting until you took his mantle before introducing us to each other,” Ash looked down with a sad smile on her face. “You were meant to be something great. But, it didn’t pan out, did it.”

Jonas stared at her with wide-eyes. It only made the incident that caused all this clearer in his mind. His hands shook and teeth clattered as he remembered the desperation to keep the Marquis’s daughter alive.

He took a deep breath. It still haunts him in his dreams.

“I-I didn’t do it. H-he-”

“I know. I’ve spoken with your Father. He regrets treating you so unfairly, but what is done cannot be changed. He did his best to set you up for success after finding out, including getting that lazy bastard of his rear and into the Leviathan.”

Jonas looked away, his eyes distant. Propping his head on the wooden desk in front of him, he felt a warm feeling growing in his heart. His father had taken his outburst seriously. He believed him and did more than needed to.

While he knew that he couldn’t ever call Duke Hadin father again, at least in public, it pleased him to know that the old man still cared.

The door to the room cracked open, a soldier walked in without a single expression on his face, saluted, stomped his foot on the ground, then waited in silence for Jonas to acknowledge him.

“Yes?”

“The sentries have spotted twenty ships adorned with one of the seven pirate bands banners heading toward us. Your orders, Sir?” The soldier hollered the entire thing in one breath, saluting at the end.

“Let’s find Hue. He knows better what we should do. But, before we go, I have to ask,” Jonas had a serious look on his face. “Do I act that entitled?”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “You did ask the pirates to swear absolute fealty or give their heads up on a platter of gold.”