Finally, after several days of riding from town to town on her horse Mary, they arrived in Dork City.

But it was hardly a city. The sidewalks here seemed to be optional, as many civilians walked the streets, which in other places had always been for horse transport. The buildings were lame in color, but the fields around the city were beautiful entering in. Many flowers, particularly those Anemone was named after, filled the land around the city.

She also noticed some buildings with ash overlapping paint, as if they fought their own fires recently. Apart from tape wrapping around the buildings, they kept their structure.

Nobody around seemed to take notice of Anemone’s eyes, but she avoided looking at others to avoid causing panic and alarm. The people carried a sense of gloom with them, moving around in silence with their heads down.

Still, Anemone feared being intrusive and disruptive. For as comfortable as she could be around certain others, these people would rather have her dead.

She heard once that anemones were an invasive species, something unwelcome. Well, it wasn’t just the flower anymore. It had been her as well. She always had been in a way.

Before entering the city, Kinler had them change into their armor, which unfortunately drew more attention their way. Kinler also told her to keep her head strong, but that wasn’t going so well.

Kinler said the best way to change a person’s mind was confidence. That’s why they wore their armor on their way to speak with a country lord. He also said that believing in something was only half the battle of persuasion, and believing in oneself was the other half. But that was where Anemone was lost.

What do I believe in?

She roamed the streets, clueless as to why she must attend such an important meeting. The trip was supposed to be a good way to practice before the agency began, but they practiced only twice in four nights. He’d promised to train more on their way back, but still, she was just along for the ride.

“This is important,” Kinler said. He rode beside her, smiling in his middleweight leather armor. Orange on the shoulders and knees, but the rest was black leather with various streaks of orange paint along the folds of overlapping leather. He, too, had an armor plate tucked into his chest and more around his stomach and thighs. “We are changing your birth country; you should take some pride in that.”

“I don’t think they want change,” Anemone said.

Kinler shook his head. “Well, we are changing it whether they want to or not. A bully bullies until the bully is bullied. Otherwise, a bully bullies until the bullied moves away or the bully dies.”

“Sorry, I lost track. What happens to the bully who gets bullied by the bully who bullies the bully? Does he become the bullied? And what happens from there? Does it go on?”

Kinler laughed. “Yes, it does. We are bullying today, Anemone. But a whole new kind of bullying. The one where the bullied bullies the bully.”

“Huh?” Anemone said. It took her a while to digest his words. “Oh, you mean me? I’m going to bully them?”

“More like standing up to them,” Kinler said. “You will be the first, and if everything goes right, the last green-eyed person in Dork to ever have to do so.”

“Wait, you don’t mean you’re trying to end the beast camps, are you?”

Kinler frowned. “I didn’t tell you? Strange. But yes. Don’t worry; I’ll do most of the talking. You just listen in, jump in when or if you have to. Otherwise, it’ll just take a minute, alright?”

Anemone nodded. Why didn’t he tell her? Sometimes Kinler could be infuriating when he had his fun, so perhaps he did so only to irk her. If so, he succeeded. But now, as they approached the Lord’s Palace, Anemone’s hands and her feet between her confining boots fell cold as she started to get nervous.

They tied their horses to a pole off the sidewalk. There were stables in cities but usually positioned on corners. Otherwise, horses could be kept in small shades built off the sides of the road.

Anemone patted Mary’s head, and she responded how she usually did, striking her in the face with her snout. It never hurt, but it always felt warming to feel the gesture.

Kinler led Anemone up a dozen steps before the concrete floor went level. Ivory pillars held the second floor, expanding forward to give shade to the platform. Kinler walked right for the double doors.

Two guards were by the entrance, and Anemone looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“We have a meeting with Lord Demin,” Kinler said, bowing as he approached.

The guards looked at each other, but the one on the right turned his head forward first. “We have heard of no meeting taking place today. Be gone.”

“Oh, you didn’t get the memo?” Kinler asked. “I had a carrier bird sent here days ago explaining our visit. How is your mail system?”

“Uh,” the guard looked pressed.

“No matter, how about you just let us inside. Surely it isn’t good to send away foreign ambassadors after many days of travel.”

“Ambassadors?” the other guard spoke up. “Sir, excuse us, but what kind of ambassadors visit a foreign city decked out with armor and swords? This is distasteful, wouldn’t you say?”

“I thought that was how your people handled these sort of meetings,” Kinler said. “From what I remember, Dormoor just walks up to your city and makes their demands, and that is that.”

“So you are threatening us?” the guard said. “Bold. For when Dormoor threatens us, they send a small army. But here, I see only you two.”

“Well, your eyes don’t fail you. But think of the logistics,” Kinler lifted a finger for every item he listed, “the horses, the people, the food that feeds the people, the inns we sleep at night. With, let’s say, twenty people, we would be paying a fortune for this mission. Now, why would we go through all that coin when we could just get it done ourselves?”

They both grimaced. They held spears, not swords like most guards or policemen from other cities used. Dork was a strange place, though Anemone only found that out this year.

“Is Demin inside?” Kinler asked. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The men grunted before stepping out of the way. “Go, Gem God damn you. Just go.”

Kinler grinned, turning around to Anemone. Together, they entered a majestic palace, a large open room with a red carpet leading up to a throne, dyed red as it climbed the stairs up to the man sitting bored. Chandeliers hung above the middle along the walkway, and Kinler took confident strides forward, and Anemone trailed a little more timidly behind.

“Greeting, Lord Demin, I presume?” Kinler asked, looking forward to the man sitting on the throne. His palm held up his resting head, and he sighed, looking more annoyed than anything about Kinler’s presence. Two guards were on each side of him, spears in their hands, crossed to separate the lord from his visitors.

“Who walks on the carpet of my palace?” Lord Demin asked. He raised his hand to halt Kinler from speaking. “Let me guess, Soucrest? I burned your letter when I got it. I have no interest in meeting you. Why did my guards let you enter? I should have them fired. But then I would have to pay severance…”

Anemone’s first impressions of the Dork Lord was that he was… quite odd. A snob by how he spoke, rude and even annoying by his shrill voice.

“Odd,” Kinler said, stopping only a couple of feet in front of the lord, speaking eye to eye. Anemone stood about ten feet back, afraid she would just get in the way. “I was just talking to your guards out there about how Dormoor makes their demands. But now, after your first bout of talking, it’s very clear to me why. You’re in love with Dormoor, aren’t you?”

“Uh… what?” Demid asked. He gripped the knobs on the armrests of his throne, tensing up. “Are you mad? What kind of statement is that?”

“It’s a type of syndrome victims get sometimes when they fall head over heels in love with their abusers. Dormoor for how long, the past thirty or so years, ravaged your cities for supplies, and you simply embrace it? Hmmm… sounds like love to me. I mean, now they just skip the looting, and you just hand the supplies over without a fight, right? And they come again, over and over again.”

Demid tensed up. A little more than he should have. “It’s… not that simple anymore… thanks to you guys!”

“Excuse me?”

“We can no longer hand them supplies; they don’t want them anymore,” Demid said. He had a nice fitting gray vest and dress pants, but his head had balded bad, leaving only a ring of hair in the center top. “And it’s because of you! Bastards! You just had to steal a devil away from them, didn’t you?”

“Ahh, so they are a little pettier than I first suspected,” Kinler said. “But hey, I have a solution.”

Demin lowered a brow. His frown egged Kinler to continue.

“Soucrest extends you an invitation to become their protectorate. Five years, once the time is over, we leave your country back to you, stronger and more secure than how it is currently. King Ranun honors your country and is willing to pour any resources necessary to get this deal done. With our help, you can build schools, businesses, homes, and much, much more. You will have a stronger economy, a viable market to conduct trading. Farms that yield more crops. All for the price of some men securing your western borders.”

“Five years,” Demin said. “You want us to give up our freedom. For. Five. Years? Give us a break. We all know why you really want our land. You plan to bring war to my country, isn’t it? A war against Dormoor, and the land that bears all of the destruction will be ours, not yours. This is unacceptable as is. We desire… more.”

“Do you?” Kinler asked. “To me, it sounds like you want to squeeze this deal for more. What do you want, Lord Demin. What will change your mind? Do you want gold?”

“Gold is a start,” Demin said, scratching his chin. “I seek myself to be taken care of, with power still in my hands, if only a little more hindered to this arrangement. And finally, your men will be obligated to train mine. I want to form an army of my own, but they won’t be yours to dispose of in battle, do you understand?”

“You seek help in training your men but refuse to have them aid us?” Kinler asked. “We have many military secrets, built off years and years of warfare. Dork has little, almost none of that. Every time you’ve faced a fight, you either ran or surrendered on the spot. Now, this deal is unfavorable for us. But, I’m willing to agree to this, so long as you abide by one additional request.”

Anemone felt the moment coming. The words that brought change to everything Anemone knew.

“Yes? Go on, say it,” Demin waved a hand, gesturing him to hurry up and speak.

Doors opened from behind Anemone, but her eyes focused on the meeting ahead. The door slammed, and a breeze came with it, striking the back of her neck. The room suddenly chilled.

“Soucrest seeks the abolishment of the ‘beast’ program, effective immediately,” Kinler said.

Demin cringed, enraged by such a statement. “This is outrageous! You dare make such a demand out of us? That’s almost half of our economy! That will bring us to ruin!”

Kinler lifted his hand as if to calm him. “It’s half of your economy because the other half is complete shit, to be frank. The gold they bring into your country is not even a tenth of what it would bring to a prospering nation such as Soucrest, even to scale. Now, that’s why we offered to boost your economy. A smarter nation is a rich nation, so we will build schools. A nation without roads is a nation that can’t make good trade, so we will build roads. We will do everything we can to leave this country better than how we left it. But the beast camps are the first to go.”

“You insult us…” Demin hissed. “Our culture… you threaten it. Bastard! The beasts have to be locked up! They’re devils!”

“Really? Sounds to me your first concern about them was the impact on the economy. All active beasts will be donated to Soucrest and given their proper freedom. And babies born after will also be sent to Soucrest, so no need to worry about your beliefs. We will bear any burdens you associate with ‘devils.’”

Gentle footsteps came behind Anemone, though she didn’t look behind, keeping her attention focused on the front. She also heard thuds, different from steps, but strikes hitting the ground like a third foot stomping on the carpet. When a short—shorter than her—man walked past, with short gray hair, Anemone gasped.

Corden turned her head, and as soon as he saw her green eyes, he wore his mask of rage.

“Master,” Anemone knelt, looking down, paying her respects. Her old instincts overwhelmed her, and the subservience of her past controlled her. But now, after what felt like so long, she was back to obeying.

Corden shook. Anemone lifted her head to see his rumbling anger. But her time looking at her old master’s face was short-lived, as a wood cane lashed her on the eyes.

“YOU!” Corden bellowed. Anemone hit the floor. Corden kicked her chest before stomping at her stomach. Her eyes were up, and she saw Corden pull off the foot of his cane, revealing a six-inch-long spike. “You come back to our country! After you damn us all! You must be PUNISHED!”

Anemone lifted her hands, helpless but to take the strike. But she had something… not up her sleeve, but under her skin.

Black blood.

Block his strike, have my blood rescue me, Anemone thought. She didn’t know for sure. It’d been so long since she tested it. And the last few times with Aidan, it hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

“I’ve always hated you most of all!” Corden pulled his cane-spike back with a hefty breath. He cocked the cane back, then thrust down straight for her neck—

Corden stopped to the sounds of several gasps behind him. He looked behind, his brown eyes shaking as he turned to the commotion. Anemone peered to the side, looking past Corden to see the view perfectly from the ground.

Kinler held his sword to Lord Demin’s throat. The guards around him aimed their spears for Kinler’s head. But Kinler, remarkably, didn’t even look the way of the Dork Lord or the spearheads. He eyed Corden of all people, wearing steadfast as a face.

“What’s the meaning of this!” Corden demanded.

“Meaning?” Kinler snorted. “You are threatening one of mine, so I’m threatening one of yours.”

“That’s the Dork Lord you’re holding your blade to!”

Kinler grinned. “And that’s my agent you’re pinning down.”

“Soucrest… no, all of Valoria will know what is transpiring here.”

“Oh, sweet elder, you don’t understand, do you? With a single motion of my wrist, I can have three heads rolling on the floor. By the time you swing down, I’ll be running your way. But not to—”

“Stop this!” Lord Demin said. His head was as far back to his throne as Kinler’s sword allowed. “Pull back your sword, and Corden will do the same.”

“No,” Kinler said. “He pulls off first.”

“This is nonsense! You threaten the most powerful man in this country!”

“And how powerful do you feel, honestly?” Kinler asked. He hadn’t even looked the man in the eyes, but he found pleasure in taunting him this way.

Anemone on the ground saw a window into escaping, sweeping the legs from under Corden and taking him down. But Anemone worried more about how the guards holding the spears to Kinler would react. So she stayed still, letting Kinler handle the situation how he saw fit.

After a moment of deadlock silence, Corden was the first to break. “Fine!” he grunted. He stepped off Anemone and twisted the foot of his cane back on. She had never known that cane had a spike built into it.

“Good,” Kinler said, pulling his sword away from Demin. The guards hesitantly retracted their spears, standing straight.

“This is absurd!” Lord Demin cried. He seemed on the verge of actual tears. “Your deal sounded possible, but if this is how you conduct your diplomacy, well, you’re no better than Dormoor!”

Kinler laughed. “Right. The deal stands. When you come to your senses and shove away your pride, send us a message.”

He walked down the carpet, stopping at Anemone. He helped her up with a hand.

Suddenly, as if there wasn’t enough chaos, a man stormed through the door. “Lord Demin!” he called out, out of breath. His face was shiny with sweat, but he hurried past Kinler to kneel before Lord Demin on his throne.

Anemone and the agent-general stayed still for the moment, waiting for what the man had to say.

“They’re… they’re here, my lord. Again, for the second time this week!”

“No,” Corden whispered, overhearing the messenger along with Kinler and Anemone.

“You’re joking!” Demin said, grasping his near-bald scalp. “How many?”

“Thirty perhaps, my lord. They are blowing their horns; our people are on lockdown. Dormoor brings swords and torches. Like last time. But there’s more of them!”

“Damn them! They want more out of us! We have little more to give…”

Kinler smirked, and Anemone found that a little heartbreaking. “Come,” he said to Anemone before he started walking toward the door.

Anemone rushed up to him. “We should help them!” she pleaded. From where, or why, she didn’t know. After how Corden just treated her, the last thing she should want was to help them. But… it didn’t feel right, leaving behind her home country to burn.

It was still her home.

“Anemone,” Kinler said, loud enough to Corden could hear them as they walked. “I understand. I want to help them too, but how do you expect me to help a country that won’t even help themselves.”

“WAIT!” Corden shouted after them.

Kinler smirked, fading back into an expressionless face as he turned around to Corden.

Corden turned to Lord Demin. Then, he knelt, much like how beasts knelt to him. “Please, my lord, reconsider their offer! He can help us! He has a Soulsmithed sword!”

“Thirty men are coming to raid us,” Demin said. “No man can stand against all of them alone!”

“Forgive me, sir, but this is our best course of action! We can ready some guards of our own, even the numbers. A Soulsmithed sword on our side could heavily change the outcome to our favor.”

Demin looked insulted, having his viewpoint questioned. But he eyed Kinler nonetheless. He leaned forward in his chair. “Are you willing to help us?”

“If you accept our offer,” Kinler said.

Demin grew red. “Fine! Whatever, just help us!”

“The beast camps are abolished?” Kinler asked, stepping forward.

Demin nodded but held an intense frown as he did so.

I don’t believe it, Anemone thought. It’s over? Just like that? Soucrest helped them? Beasts like—no, humans like me? Just like that?

“Warrior, what is your name?” Demin asked, standing up from his throne.

“Lord Demin, you may address me as Kinler. I have no last name, but I do have my own title.

“I am the Blue Bladesman.” Kinler turned to the front doors. “It’s time to deliver Dormoor the news of our alliance. Then, we see how they react.”