“Solon! Come in, come in! I have some new goods for us to sample!” Said the duke, beckoning with one hand while the other held a glass of wine.

He was sitting on his bed, his hair disheveled and clothes rumpled, the silken bed covers in disarray, and sitting beside him was a curvy young woman wearing only a tight tunic that barely went below her hips, and only the way she positioned her legs prevented anyone coming into the room from seeing her naked crotch in all its glory. At least she flashed a smile at the man walking into the room, instead of flashing something else.

That man, on the other hand, was far less attractive looking. An older man in his fifties, everything about him gave the impression of a block of granite that had been carved in the rough shape of a human being. His wide chin and clean-shaven head that put to mind a smooth block of stone while his wide frame packed enough muscle to break a smaller man in half. He wore a tunic over rough leather armor and had a pair of ratty gloves dangling from his belt. When he smiled, his two front teeth were missing and his nose had clearly been broken and re-set one time too many.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Solon while taking a long look at the woman. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine myself.”

“Of course!” He got up from the bed along with the woman and gave her a gentle slap on the rear. “Off you go, Ingrid! It’s time for the men to talk.”

“Aww, can’t I stay here a bit longer?” Pouted Ingrid. “I’m not going to be a bother at all! And I don’t think he’ll mind either,” she said with a sly smile while looking at Solon. He gave her a polite smile back while still openly admiring and taking in every detail of her, from her soft, pale skin to her red hair, braided in an elaborate style that was held together with ribbons. She smelled of expensive perfume and sex.

“Tempting,” said Duke Nikolaus. “But I need some time to recover before we do it again, love! Now hop off and get some sleep. Be a good girl and I might ask for you again tomorrow.”

“Actually… I think she should stay,” said Solon. “Please, Your Grace? She would be a most welcome presence, and I think we can speak freely in front of her.”

The Duke turned back with a puzzled frown, and he looked briefly upset. Unlike Ingrid’s reaction, which was one of pure joy.

“Oh, thank you Ser! Wait, are you a Ser? Or should I call you something else then? Maybe I can call you handsome?” She said while jumping to his side and wrapping herself around his arm.

“Not a Ser. Solon is fine,” he replied while putting a hand around her waist and pulling her close. She giggled.

“Well, well, what a scamp! Stealing my girl from me while in my very own bedroom. Some would call that treason, you know!” Said the Duke, although his mocking grin and a wink gave away that he was far from upset. He handed over a glass of wine, which Solon accepted, then sat on a nearby chair and looked fondly at the pair. “If you buy her services her after you leave do be gentle though? I quite enjoyed her myself.”

“I believe she is more expensive than I can afford, Your Grace,” said Solon with a wry smile. “But I won’t begrudge an audience today, especially not one so pretty.”

“Ooh! Keep talking like that and you might get yourself a discount, mister!” She laughed before turning to the duke and adding. “But of course, if Your Grace wishes for my... exclusive attention, you only have to ask. We are all your subjects, in body and mind.” She finished her proposal with a theatrical bow that, incidentally, revealed her cleavage very well.

Solon cleared his throat. “So why have you called me here, Your Grace?”

Nikolaus’ smile faded and the atmosphere immediately changed. After a quick search of his desk, he found a message which he passed to the other man with a serious expression. “I received this yesterday evening,” he said. “I need your professional opinion before the council meeting this afternoon. What do you make of it?”

Solon grabbed the message with the same hand that held the glass and read it in silence while still holding Ingrid firmly by the waist with the other hand. She pressed herself against him while peeking at the letter curiously, but he paid her no mind, and his brows frowned more the further he read the letter.

“Well?” Asked Nikolaus, eventually. “Do you think the young prince is now on a rampage? Will he be coming after the noble houses of Adran?”

“It doesn’t fit,” replied Solon, shaking his head. “From my notes the young prince was well known in the royal palace as a timid, kind child while growing up. This new act of butchery doesn’t match with what I’ve learned from him.”

“People can surprise you when they’re backed into a corner,” said Nikolaus with a shrug. “I remember trying to pet this cat once that just didn’t want to be petted...”

“But usually people don’t search for a corner to back themselves into in the first place,” said Solon, tapping at the paper. “It says here they fought against two Knights, one from Meton and one from Sofkos, as well as the commander of a batallion. Would the prince willingly walk himself into such a dangerous situation while in enemy territory with no backup? No... This feels like some sort of accident. A bungled operation, if you ask me.”

“Bungled? He killed two knights, one of them a commander of the very forces trying to capture him. If that’s a failure I don’t want to see what a success looks like!”

“But it was risky. And Prince Demian does not sound like the kind of person to take such risks knowingly. It’s a theory, but… Maybe he went to this smuggler in the hopes of finding a way out of the city, but ran into the commander instead? That would explain his actions somewhat.”

“And this message that he will hunt the Adran nobles is… What? Saving face?” Nikolaus chuckles. “Like saying ‘oh yeah, I totally meant to do that’ when you break a bottle on someone’s head by accident?”

“Possibly, Your Grace,” replied Solon, reading the message again. “Or misdirection. He might intend to flee after all, and the message is to confuse us and maybe divert some of our forces away from guarding the border or searching for him as he flees.”

“You seem very intent on seeing the prince as a cowardly coward that cowers,” said Nikolaus, playing with his glass but not drinking from it. “Are you sure he would go through all that trouble just to mess with our heads?”

“I am no soothsayer, Your Grace. I merely predict the most likely outcome from available information,” said the other man with a one-armed shrug, the other still held firmly by the redhead who was listening to the conversation with a playful smile.

“And this other agent? The one helping the prince?”

“I have no knowledge of her, Your Grace,” said Solon. “Not even the barest hint of any suspicious activity, which is odd. She’s either a very good spy or, more likely, someone unrelated caught up in this situation. The reports do say she’s known as a mercenary, after all.”

“And why would a mercenary go through so much trouble to help the prince when she could just collect the reward for his head? Never seen a mercenary turn down easy money.”

“She might be under his complete control, or she might be a faithful royalist, ideologically. I don’t know much about her so I cannot speculate further.”

“It also says in the report the agent is supposedly a half-troll.”

There was a moment of silence, and Ingrid noticed a tension in the air, both the duke and his agent studied each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Nikolaus dropped the cheerful attitude like shrugging off a coat, and his face was suddenly tense and grim-looking. Solon took a sip of his wine, but stayed silent, forcing Nikolaus to speak first.

“You think it could be her?” He asked.

“If you’re talking about that prisoner -” started Solon before being interrupted.

“The one that you let escape? The one I sent you to personally escort and guard as safely as possible, which by the way, is something which you completely failed to do?” Asked Nikolaus, anger rising in his voice. “One of my most valued prisoners that ever slipped between your fingers?”

Solon lowered his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m only human, Your Grace. Have I not served you faithfully, before and after my mistake?”

“Hm,” Nikolaus nodded begrudgingly. “Still, it could be her. She might still be alive.”

“I don’t know… She was shot in the head and fell down a waterfall, Your Grace. Even a half-troll would have trouble surviving that.”

“Do I need to remind you that half-trolls are surprisingly adept at surviving?”

“... And even if she did survive, there is no proof that it is the same person. But, yes, I admit it is a possibility, however remote.”

“Half-trolls are hardly common in our kingdom, especially female ones.”

“True,” admitted Solon. “But I have heard they are less rare in Gronaw.”

Another pause. Nikolaus narrowed his eyes.

“You think it’s them?” Asked the duke, brushing some of his blonde hair out of his face. “A Gronaw spy? Or some kind of revolutionary agitator?”

“It’s another possibility, Your Grace,” replied Solon with another of his half-shrugs. “The shipwreck that brought the prince to our lands also feels very odd in the first place. They say it was a plot from one of our kingdom’s spies, but I haven’t been able to verify that. It is possible that Gronaw had a hand in this incident, although to what end I cannot imagine. Or there might be some other ploy we are not aware of.”

“They would love to get their hands on the royal blood, wouldn’t they? Tch... This is giving me a bloody headache!” Said the Duke, rubbing his head. “So where do you suggest the prince and the half-troll are going?”

Solon paused to consider the question, paper still in his hand. “There are no ships from here to Gronaw, at least not officially. We can keep an eye on the one or two revolutionary smugglers we do know, but I think we should focus our efforts on the Viridian border. If another noble is attacked we might change our plans, but for now I think the prince is still fleeing the country to Viridia, as originally predicted. That is the most likely course of action.”

“Very well,” nodded Nikolaus. “But I want you to learn more about the half-troll. Bring any information you have on her to me, and I want orders sent to all other agents on the two of them: I want both to be captured alive. Understand?”

Solon gave him a short nod, his face calm and expressionless.

“This is your top priority. And the priority of any other agent not in a crucial task right now. Or maybe even those. Whatever manpower or resources you can get your hands on. No expenses spared.”

Solon finally reacted, if only by quirking one eyebrow. “Your Grace. Our other plans are far more important, you wouldn’t say? And the consequences for them failing… Far more dire.”

Nikolaus sighed and slammed his fist on the desk, making Ingrid jump back. Solon was pulled back by her, but did not otherwise react. “I want them both! I hope I don’t have to spell it out to you on how the royal prince and a half-troll might be useful to us? How incredibly useful? This is not an area where I want to hear excuses from you!”

Solon bowed. “I will do my best to capture them, Your Grace.”

This seemed to calm the other man down. He finished the wine in his glass in one gulp.

“Would that be all you asked me for?” Asked Solon.

“Yes, unless there’s anything else you want to bring to my attention?”

And at that Duke Nikolaus looked at Ingrid, who had listened to the entire conversation while clinging to Solon without saying a word. When she realized both men were now focusing their attention on her, she laughed.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of what you men talk. But I’m happy to play the audience,” she said, grinning in a cheerful, girlish manner that made her seem even younger than she really was.

“I believe you told me that some small objects have been missing from your room lately, Your Grace?” Said Solon, not taking his eyes off the prostitute.

“Hmm, yeah. A pin here, a small message there... At first I wasn’t even sure if I wasn’t misplacing them. You know me… I’d forget my own head if I could misplace it somehow...” The duke put his wine glass on the table and smiled at the other man. Ingrid giggled.

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Solon with a small smile of his own. “By the way, did you misplace your signet ring? I don’t see it on the table behind you.”

“What? It’s right there- ” Nikolaus stopped himself when he turned back and realized he could not see his signet ring on the table. “Hmm, that’s odd. It… Should be here? Somewhere?”

He picked up a ledger to see if it was under it, and opened one drawer, then another, his frown getting deeper with every action.

“Alright, I’ll take my leave now, boys,” said Ingrid with another giggle. “But send for me when you wish, Your Grace. I had a lovely time with you.” She waved at him, but when she tried to move away Solon wrapped his arm around her tight, refusing to let go. She looked up to see him staring at her with a grim expression that chilled her to the bone, like being dunked in water on a cold winter’s day. And his eyes were just as cold.

“No way… Really?” Now Nikolaus was also looking at her, although he seemed more amused than anything. “Ingrid! You little minx! Were you the culprit stealing my things?”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “No! Oh, Ellora help me, no! I would never - ” She started trying to take off her tunic, but was stopped by the fact Solon still had his arm around her waist. She pushed away from him, only for him to grab her arm instead, keeping it in a tight grip she knew there was no way she could escape from. His arms were twice as thick as hers, and she could see the muscle, even under his clothes. “Take off all my clothes right now! Search them as much as you’d like! I have never even dreamed of stealing from you, Your Grace! Please!”

Solon remained quiet, but while keeping a strong grip on her with one arm, the other went towards her elaborate braid, held together with many ribbons of varied colors, and started feeling along the braid. Then, without any fanfare, the man discovered and pulled out the signet ring, still tied to one of the ribbons and hidden inside the braid.

Duke Nikolaus clapped enthusiastically, like he had just witnessed a magic trick at a party, before letting out a loud, goofy laugh like a hyena.

“Ah, Solon my man! You don’t disappoint!” He said, looking at the ring, then at the now terrified girl that looked back at him in shock. “When I said I wanted immediate results, you knew I was joking, right?”

“I had already looked into the case and had my suspicions on her,” said the other man. “One of the reasons I came here at this time was to try and catch her in the act. Fortunate that I was able to do so. She probably did it while you were distracted.”

“Well, you’ve certainly delivered!” Said the duke with a cheeky wink.

“I’ve disappointed you once,” said Solon mildly. “So I try not to do it again.”

“Y-your Grace… Oh, please- !” Started to say Ingrid before the duke silenced her kissing her lips. When they parted, he looked at her with regret.

“That’s enough.” Nikolaus took a deep breath. “That’s quite enough. Take her away, Solon. There is no need to drag this out any longer than it has to.”

“Certainly,” said the man with a deep bow. He started walking towards the door while pulling Ingrid along. There were now tears in her eyes as she pleaded for her life, feebly trying to pull away from Solon, to no avail. In her struggle she grabbed at a nearby table and pulled at it, causing the small statue on top of the table to topple and fall to the ground.

“Oh, one more thing!”

Both Ingrid and Solon, now at the door, grew silent and looked back at the Duke, who was looking out one of the windows. They could not see his face, nor his expression.

“Deal with her quickly, will you?” Said the duke. “Painlessly, if possible. And send the others in the brothel some sort of gift. Some money and a good wine, perhaps, as compensation for the loss of one of their own. They always get sad when something like that happens.”

“It will be done, Your Grace,” said Solon before pulling Ingrid out firmly before she could struggle against it. But he still managed to close the door behind him when leaving the room, while carrying the other woman against her will to her death.

They were now walking down a long, winding staircase that spiraled downwards below the duke’s castle. She had stopped resisting, now only quietly sobbing as the other, larger man, pulled her with him.

But at one point there was an alcove with a closed door. The stairs continued down beyond the alcove, but instead of leading her down, Solon pushed her against the door, firmly but without hurting her, before listening for any noise and furtively looking around him. After confirming that there was nobody around him, he looked at Ingrid and asked.

“Do you want to live?”

“Wh-what?” She asked, wiping one wet cheek with her hand. She looked fearful and hopeful in equal measures, a woman on her last lifeline.

“There is one thing I can do to prevent your execution. But for that I will need to know who asked you to steal things from the duke. Because I know you did not do this of your own initiative.”

She looked at him in silence, before sniffling and shaking her head. “A client,” she said. “Called himself Lukas, but don’t know if it’s his real name, you know? Umm… He said...” She gulped the air, stifling a sob before continuing. “He said if I managed to get him something good, he would take me away from that place. F-from the brothel...”

Solon made an impatient noise. “You were not even properly trained. Sloppy. What kind of result would anyone expect?” He looked at her and then nodded. “Well, I have a name at least. Lukas. Right, thank you.”

“... So can I live?” She asked, her voice so small it was barely heard even in the silence of the stairwell.

“Tonight you will be placed on a boat headed to the Helion Empire,” said Solon, speaking quickly while keeping his voice down. “The boat is staffed by people I trust. You will not be mistreated, but try to flee or hurt them and you will be killed. Otherwise, they will safely transport you there. Do not return. You must create a new life for yourself there.”

“W-wait. The Helion Empire?” There was a new note of panic on her voice. “But…! No, you can’t do this to me! They see people like me as cattle there! You can’t- ”

He placed a finger over her lips, not quite touching them but she still went silent. “I won’t deny it will be difficult,” he said. “But there you can still live. You still have a chance of finding happiness. Or love. Or a reason to make your life worthwhile. The only other option I have is executing you. And all these possibilities are over once you are dead. So, I’ll let you choose. Exile to the Helion Empire? Or death?”

They were quiet for a few moments, broken only by new sobs from Ingrid as she grappled with the fact life as she knew it was now over. She struggled, before letting her body go limp and reaching a decision.

“I’ll live...” she said, barely a whisper.

“Very good. I’ll escort you tonight myself,” said Solon. “This might be terrifying and new, but I hope that in the future you will find something worthwhile in your second life. Some joy or some kind of meaning or pleasure, no matter how small. It is all you can hope for, and something which you can never have in death: hope for a better tomorrow.”

And in that dark, empty stairwell, it was impossible to tell if he was trying to convince her, or himself.