Tunio woke to the door of his room being opened. When the waitress from last night stepped in, light poured in from the hallway into the darkened room. She hastily closed the door behind her, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Tunio heard the soft swish of a dress being drawn across a body and then heard it fall to the floor. Soft hands pulled back his blanket and in climbed the plump woman next to him.

“Don’t speak,” a soft voice murmured.

“I can’t see anything,” Tunio complained.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” she replied.

“What is your name?”

“Doris,” she replied, running her hands over his body.

Tingles travelled along his body, following her fingers. She weaved intricate patterns across his chest and legs.

“Now that I have your attention,” she whispered into his ear, “I know you have a copy of the official chronicles and the writer’s first draft.”

“What?” he asked. What is going on?

“Don’t worry,” she soothed. She leant and kissed him.

His whole body came alive with fire. His entire body shuddered with every touch. He lost focus and wrapped his hands around her body and placed his hands on her softly scented back. The smell of flowers tantalised his nose, reminding him of happy days running through the forest near home.

“I don’t want to take them from you,” she muttered, “I want to warn you.”

“Warn … me about … what?” he gasped, refocussing on the women on top of him.

She shushed him with a kiss. When she broke the kiss, she sat upright and began to grind her hips on him. When they finished, she came down off him.

“Why did you just do that?” he asked, stroking her sweaty hear away from her forehead.

“Why did you let me?” she asked, running a hand through his light chest hair.

“You seem to have information that I might need. Why didn’t you just send me a note like you did to let me know you were coming?” he asked.

“I don’t know who to trust,” she murmured. “I need this to seem like a harmless tryst. I am from a group of people that want to bring about the divine correction.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Tunio admitted.

“Not many people do,” Doris said. “Divine correction is an event intended to correct the world and bring back the balance.”

“Balance sounds like a good thing.”

“There are eight seals woven into eight objects around the world,” Doris explained. “If someone was to unite all eight, they would bring about the end of the ‘unbalance’.”

“How do you know there are eight? Does anyone know what these items look like?” Tunio asked, raising his eyebrows.

“The number is legend. My organisation believes that they are weapons or armour. However, they could be kitchen tools. I am certain that one such item is this Belt of Veritas that the king seeks, and because you have the original chronicle of the last person to have been proven to have this item, I came to you.”

“Can you help me with finding it?” Tunio asked. “I will find the belt, but I am not sure about the rest of all this. I am poor, and I want the money.”

“I can only confirm that it is here on this island,” Doris said. “Don’t worry about the money.”

“Okay, if I find this belt you will make sure that I get the money,” Tunio said.

“Yeah sure. At least you don’t have to travel the whole world looking for it. If anyone asks, just boast that I came, and you conquered me. I will come back tomorrow.”

Doris threw back the blankets and opened the door. In the light from out of the corridor, she found her dress, collected it off the floor, and stepped into the corridor. She pulled it over her lithe body as she pulled the door closed, plunging the room into darkness once again.

“Things just got a lot more complicated,” Tunio muttered into the darkness.

***

29th day of the 7th month 610thyear of the 8th era

Dawn crept into the room, casting a dim light. Anatoli slipped out of bed, pulled on Ingirid’s silk dressing gown, and tied it together. The dressing gown hung to his knees and the sleeves to his elbows. He slipped out of the room and crept down the corridor to the end of the hallway. As he passed by the rooms, gentle sounds of the occupants’ activities floated past him.

In one room, a couple of girls giggled as they whispered to each other. He heard the snoring of either men or women, a few even had a couple still conducting the business of the brothel. Anatoli raised an eyebrow as he passed a woman still servicing a man. He slipped down the stairs and walked to the end of the quiet corridor. As he reached the reception room, he spied a woman lounging on a futon, unclad.

She spotted him and stood up hastily.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“I came in with two men last night. Where are they?” he asked.

“Your friends are in the first two rooms,” she informed, “let me take you to them.”

She stepped past them and sashayed back down the corridor. She pointed to two rooms next to each other.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“Will that be all?” she asked.

“Do you happen to know what their names are?”

“Yes, my lord. The one in the room on the left is called Joseph and the one on the right Davin.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” Anatoli stated.

She bowed deeply to him and strode back to the reception area.

“Joseph,” he said to himself and then pushed the door on his left open and strode in. The large man was lying asleep under a soft silk sheet; a woman with red hair lay nestled in his arms. Both slept peacefully. His clothes lay in a pile in the middle of the room. Her silk dressing gown sat on the top.

“Joseph,” Anatoli called, “time to wake up.”

Joseph stirred and his eyes half-opened to look around him, widening when he saw Anatoli standing in his room. He disengaged himself from the redhead and stood. His tall frame made him a good head and shoulders taller than Anatoli.

“Get dressed and meet me outside,” Anatoli directed.

Anatoli spun on his heel and marched out of the room.

“Yes, sir,” Joseph said to his back.

“Davin,” Anatoli muttered to himself and stepped into the room opposite Joseph’s.

Davin was sprawled on the floor of the room naked, head resting on a pillow. His clothes were neatly folded on a chair with a silk dressing gown over the back. On the bed lay a woman with black hair, lying on her left side in the foetal position, her hair lying straight out across a second pillow.

“Davin,” Anatoli called. “Time to wake up.”

Davin jumped up in an instant, eyes wide with a look of fear on his face.

The woman lifted her head and looked at Davin and Anatoli and then placed her head back down.

“Cover me when you go,” she instructed.

Davin was a large, heavy-set man who stood a head taller than Anatoli. He had wide shoulders and his arms were covered in thick muscles. A little paunch was developing around his gut.

“Get dressed and meet me outside,” Anatoli directed, a smile on his face.

“Yes, sir,” Davin said, saluting.

Anatoli spun on his heel and walked outside into the corridor where Joseph waited, dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and black boots.

Davin followed Anatoli out into the corridor, his shoes in one hand, his white shirt hung over his shoulder as he pulled his slacks up.

“I want you to work for me,” Anatoli said as Davin stepped into his boots and began to tie the laces.

“What will we be doing?” Davin asked, pulling on his shirt.

“Mostly, I want you to protect these women here.”

“What else?” asked Joseph.

“From time to time,” explained Anatoli. “I might have some extra work.”

“What is the pay?” Davin asked.

“You were both in an army?” Anatoli asked, ignoring Davin’s question.

“Sailors with the Republic of Calcadon,” Joseph answered.

“What do you want for payment?” Anatoli asked with a nod to Joseph.

“We will need a little gold, and maybe favours from the girls,” Davin suggested.

“How about some currency, and meals provided by the girls and favours once a week?” Anatoli countered.

“How much currency?” Joseph asked.

“How much do you want?” Anatoli said.

“A gold crown a week,” suggested Davin.

“I think that will be fair,” agreed Joseph.

“Ten leaves a week,” said Anatoli, “seems reasonable. Let me check with Ingirid. It’s up to you to make sure that one of you is always on duty.”

“If we are to be on duty all day and night, and to come with you on special assignments,” said Davin, “might I suggest one more guard?”

“Do you know another?” Anatoli asked.

“Reg was a good man,” Davin said to Joseph.

“Yes,” agreed Joseph, “though a little short.”

“I will go find him,” volunteered Davin. “If you want to take first watch?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Anatoli. “Bring him to me when you find him.”

Anatoli turned and strode to the end of the corridor. He ascended the stairs and went to the room at the far end of the corridor. When he pushed open the door, he saw Ingirid lying in bed, cast in an angelic glow from the light streaming in from the window in the far wall.

She turned and looked at the door as he stepped in.

“What have you been up to?” she asked, propping herself up to her elbow, the sheet falling to her waist.

“I was negotiating with the guards,” he explained. “Is ten leaves a good price for a guard?”

“For one guard it is low,” she said. “What else did you promise to pay them with?”

“Meals and favours once a week,” Anatoli said, sitting on the bed.

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Ingirid answered.

“I think that two women have already laid claim,” Anatoli stated.

“Yes, Lucretia and Asvor have already claimed them,” Ingirid said.

“There will be a third man, Reg,” continued Anatoli. “Davin will go get him today.”

***

Tunio awoke early to the sound of feet running down the corridor. He sat up in the bed and pulled on his trousers. He stepped into his boots, reached for his sword, strapping it to his back. If people are out to stop me, I might want to have some protection. He picked up the book, opened the door, and stepped out in the corridor as a serving girl in a green dress, holding her slippers, raced past. She looked at him and winked. He strode down to the corridor to Aquillia’s room and knocked on the door.

After a little shuffling, Aquillia opened the door wide and let him in. He noticed that her room was larger and contained a huge double feather bed on the far side of the room. Beside the bed was a bedside table with a basin and a small washcloth. The room also contained a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs. One had her skirt and her double-bladed sword sitting on it; the other chair was empty. Her duffel bag sat on the far side of the room near the foot of the bed. The bed looked slept in, with the sheets tossed aside. She went over to a small basin, splashed water on her face, and dried it off with a small cloth.

“Good morning,” Tunio said, sitting in the empty chair, placing the book in his lap.

“What’s with your father’s sword?” she asked as she strode across the room and collected her skirt from the chair.

“I had a visit from a strange person last night,” Tunio admitted.

“Strange enough for you to wear your father’s sword to my room?” Aquillia probed, stepping into her skirt and pulling it up over her hips.

“The waitress from last night came and visited me,” Tunio continued.

“That is normally a good thing.”

“She admitted she was part of a group that wants the Belt of Veritas to be found.”

“That makes no sense,” Aquillia said, placing her hands on her hips.

“She said that there will be people that oppose me,” Tunio continued.

“Well whatever happened, it has you rattled.” She strode over to her duffle bag and pulled out a piece of paper.

“When I knew your father,” Aquillia walked back to Tunio handing over the piece of paper, “he said that he was haunted by these words. He couldn’t understand them, nor could his wife, your mother.”

Tunio took the paper and written on it in his father’s handwriting was a simple poem.

A man’s heart is fickle,

true must a man’s heart be

to wield the spirit.

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

“I have heard these words myself,” Tunio admitted, “only a couple of times though, after I took his sword.”

“The sword you have is an item of power,” Aquillia said.

Tunio stood, took the sword off his back, and held it between them. He drew the sword from its scabbard. The metal was a clear polished grey that had words imprinted into the blade.

“What are those words?” Aquillia asked.

“I have never seen them before,” Tunio admitted. “This is the first time I have even drawn this sword.”

“Really? You haven’t drawn the sword?”

“I am not a fighter. I haven’t had any reason to draw the sword. Don’t get me wrong I know the three basic forms of Rock, Air, and Water stances. I practised with my own sword rather than my father’s.”

Aquillia quirked an eyebrow and read the words out loud,

“A man’s heart is fickle,

true must a man’s heart be

to wield the spirit.”

Tunio flipped the sword and more words were written on the other side.

Aquillia read the words out loud,

“Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.”

That words on the back match the words in the first half of the poem that the king’s challenge uses,” she said.

Aquillia strode back to her duffle bag and took out another piece of paper. This one was the notice of the challenge. The poem read,

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow

“I think the sword and the belt are meant to be together,” said Aquillia, “since you already have the sword, I think you are meant to have the belt also.”

“What have we gotten into?” Tunio asked.