Alo’aharu returned to consciousness. The ambient mana in the air made their surroundings clear to them, without needing to open an eye. Alo’aharu didn’t move or give any sign that they had woken up.

They had been dumped on a wooden bench in an open hut made of limestone.

Miss Callione laid on a wooden table in the middle of the room as an elderly man pressed against her ribs.

The man bent down, about to put his ear to her chest. Miss Callione responded with a swift shove, though it had little power behind it.

“Watch it, old man!” Miss Callione groaned, despite an effort to be harsh.

“He’s just trying to check your heartbeat, dear.” A male voice came from Alo’aharu’s left. Miss Callione’s partner. The commoner. A nurse pulled ceramic shards out of his body and treated his wounds.

“I don’t understand why physicians need to be so touchy...Healers can do their work from yards away.”

“We don’t have healers on hand like they do in Rosalia.” the commoner paused. “Hey, elemental. Open your damn eyes.”

Alo’aharu’s gaze snapped to the commoner, becoming a glare. However, no one appeared to be in fighting form, so they sat up.

“Where am I?” Alo’aharu asked.

“A local doctor’s hut.” Miss Callione’s mutt growled. He pushed the nurse away, stood, and threatened Alo’aharu with each step he made to close their distance. “You’re the one who fought my wife. I wanna know what you did to make her throw up her own innards.”

Alo’aharu failed to back away from the commoner’s aggression.

“That’s exaggerating a bit, darling.” Miss Callione said from the table.

“I...What are you talking about?” Alo’aharu asked. “I didn’t do anything-”

“Don't fuck with me, elemental!” He struck Alo’aharu in the collarbone, slamming them up against the wall. “Being the slave of a rich man isn’t posh enough to start underestimating me.”

“I am no slave, at least compared to the likes of you.” Alo’aharu fought back with equal determination. “I didn’t do a damn thing to Miss Callione-”

“Lady. Nikoliades.” she corrected.

“When we fought, I used raw energy. It singes a little. It packs a decent punch. But beyond that, it does nothing! So unless your mistress has a couple bruises or burns, it has nothing to do with me, mutt!”

The commoner huffed through his nose, but let Alo’aharu go. “Can you at least quit it with all the dog remarks? I have a name. It’s Mattiew.”

“What else am I to call a mud-caked and hairy duelmonger who only ever barks?”

“See, now I might just send you to visit the gods for the fun of it,” he snarled. Like a dog.

“Down, boy.” Miss Callione chuckled.

“Fuck you.” The commoner scoffed.

“Maybe later. I'm sure-” Miss Callione coughed and retched. Both the physician and Alo’aharu froze with a start.

“You see why I’m concerned?” her mutt asked as the coughing fit calmed. “Would you care to at least tell us what Lord and Lady Foot-in-the-grave even want with us?”

“You’ll show more respect for your betters.” Alo’aharu growled.

“You’ll show more respect for me, the guy who’s got very little to lose right now.”

Alo’aharu sighed. “Lord and Lady Callione wanted us to escort you back to Rosalia. Apparently they have something you…”

The words given in their briefing were “They’ll come crawling back. They’ll have a problem they’ll want solved very fast.” A chill sensation rushed up their back. The idea that they...No. The Lord and Lady knew what they were doing. Still...no matter what angle they looked at it from, that was cold blooded.

“What? Something we what?” Mattiew asked.

“Ancient Kings...” Alo’aharu muttered. “...I-I think Miss Callione’s issue may be one of sorcerous origin.”

“Doctor?” he asked.

The physician fetched a small metal tool with colored glass in the center of a thin ring and handed it to Mattiew. He looked over Miss Callione’s body. The tensing of his muscles was almost audible.

“Sweetheart…You’ve got woven mana in you. And a fuck ton of it.”

Miss Callione gritted her teeth. “Mother…”

“Knowing your parents...this could be lethal.” Mattiew turned to Alo’aharu, his eyes revealing the frenzy under his skin. “What do you think, elemental? Would they do that? Would they curse and kill their own daughter?”

Alo’aharu refused to answer.

There was no way…and yet, Alo’aharu could imagine the Lord and Lady doing just that with crystal clarity.

“Don’t give them the satisfaction…” Miss Callione groaned.

“Don’t be rash.” Mattiew said. “They caught us off guard. No one but your mother can undo her curses. We’ll have to give them what they want.”

Miss Callione deflated. “I...I know…”

Mattiew held a secure hand on her shoulder. “But by the Ancient Kings, I’ll make them hate every second of it.”

Alo’aharu’s insides roiled. Their pride and duty insisted they regard these two as enemies and come to their lord’s defense. But no matter how many ways there were to justify it, an uncomfortable lump of twisted mana sat in their chest.

***

Mattiew blinked himself awake, despite the alluring rhythm of the covered wagon taking him to Rosalia.

He glanced down at Adriana, whose color had returned to her in her sleep. She moaned and shifted in his embrace, but continued to doze.

He then shot a gaze over at the elemental sitting across from them.

Slave or not, they seemed to wear the Callione crest with pride. And that made them an enemy. But until he learned how to kill them, that problem was for later.

Mattiew looked through the wagon’s openings at the city of Rosalia. He hadn’t seen much of it the last time he visited. Though he thought it beautiful, there was nothing to marvel at beneath the surface.

Like most Acernic cities, it was a labyrinth of roads attempting to be a grid filled with low-to-the-ground buildings constructed with white limestone and uniquely Acernic sloped roofs made from clay tiles.

Rosalia acted as a major port city belonging to one of the Eight Empires, the eight largest and oldest nations humanity carved out from the hostile wilderness and the Nightdwellers that called it home.

Adriana and her House originated from this empire, Acerno. Most knew the nation for its namesake city, which was often called the Polis of Debauchery.

But outside of the capital of prostitutes and the drug hub of humanity, Acerno was a ruthless nation of aristocrats and lords, constantly vying to empower their own families. Unfortunately, the sacred oath that the Acernic king took to preserve and foster humanity’s familial bond had spiraled into a form of tribalism where no one won.

Children of nobles like Adriana were forced from a young age to practice their sorcery to its fullest extent to be of service to the family. Regardless if it hurt the child, the family members, or anyone else.

Acernic nobles took every sideways glance as a declaration of a blood feud and every twitch of a finger part of a plan coming to fruition. Impersonating one was damn near impossible and tiring as fighting a storm with a half-asleep crew, even when done well.

Like most kingdoms, the lower class and higher class were separated by the ability to use sorcery. And if the nobles had it bad due to their own folly, the commoners had it even worse, at no fault of their own.

It was the middle of the morning as Mattiew’s wagon arrived, but the streets were practically empty. A mass exodus of people could be seen all over the Empires and even the Frontier Kingdoms beyond.

The Bellirex was due to occur soon. The tournament where hundreds would flock to compete for the right to a single crown. The only key anyone of any class had to create a nation independent from the eight empires.

Promoted as an alternative to war under the ancient Eightfold Pact, the tournament was nothing more than a spectacle for the common man and a path to power for nobles with strong sorcery but low standing.

As the wagon stopped to let a rare pedestrian cross the street, Adriana jerked awake with a groan.

“Morning, darling.” Mattiew kissed her.

“Mm...hi.” Adriana stretched her arms out from his grip.

“How do you feel?”

“Definitely better than yesterday. Whatever the doctor gave me is working.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m gonna have a very intense talk with your father about removing this curse.” Mattiew muttered.

“Should I be there?”

“I thought we were going to deprive him of that joy.”

“Right.” Adriana sighed, “Just...be careful. And try to stay civil. If you try to kill them, they’ll just resist more.”

“I’ll be as civil as I can manage in my current state.”

“You know about their sorcery, right?” Adriana asked.

“Your mother can tailor curses, but they take time to write up. Your father…”

“My father has his curse of spite. The details are vague, but the more hatred he feels, the stronger he gets. He’s never once let anyone bear witness to his power and escape alive to tell its secrets. Not even my mother. All the more reason to stay civil.”

“On the other hand, I will be accompanying you.” Alo’aharu insisted. “If only to ensure Miss Callione’s wishes for nonviolence.”

“How many times am I going to have to tell each of the House members that my surname is Nikoliades?” Adriana huffed.

“As many times as it takes to make Nikoliades a name fit for a noblewoman rather than a mangy wolf.” Alo’aharu replied.

“Mangy?” Mattiew raised an eyebrow.

Adriana crossed her arms, “In the meantime, I’m going to find us a decent place to stay that isn’t my childhood bedroom while we get this curse business sorted out.”

The wagon came to a stop at the base of a hill.

Unlike many noble estates, the Calliones’ property stood right in the center of their city, built on the steep slopes of a large hill. Stone brick walls taller than most buildings encased the property, making it out to be more of a labyrinthian keep rather than a traditional estate.

Vines and ivy grew up the sides of the battlements, the earth attempting to reclaim the old stones. A tall archway marked the entrance, though it was flanked by two guardsmen.

Mattiew stepped down from the wagon, followed by Alo’aharu. When Adriana gave the signal for the coachman to leave, he approached the arch.

Once she was gone, he abandoned all reason. Adriana had asked him to be civil, but even she would try to burn the whole place to the ground and kill everyone who tried to escape if the roles were reversed. Mattiew was being merciful.

The guardsmen flinched as he approached, standing at attention and baring their spears.

“State your business!” one of them shouted.

“None of yours.” Mattiew grabbed the spear of the man on the left and threw him into his partner.

“Hey!” Alo’aharu started their protest, but Mattiew made no hesitation to threaten their neck with the spear.

“I make sure that anyone who would harm my loved ones gets what’s coming. You wanna put yourself in that position?”

The elemental hesitated, their eyes narrowed in a glare. Despite that, their gaze lacked any true defiance.

Mattiew took their silence as an answer and passed under the archway.

He ran up a flight of steep stone stairs before three more guardsmen met him on a small grassy terrace.

They quickly leapt to action. But not quick enough for a Sea Scourger.

Mattiew skewered one guard’s thigh with his spear. He stole the guard’s weapon and used it to ram another in the knee. To follow through, he cracked the spear over his second target’s head, rendering the man unconscious.

The third guard had barely lifted his weapon before he threw it down and ran.

Mattiew turned to a pair of wooden doors leading to the estate’s main keep. He planted a swift kick in the middle of them, breaking the metal lock. A gathering of young, linen-dressed maids stared at him from a sitting room, eyes wide with terror.

“Get me Andar Callione. Now.” Mattiew ordered.

They might as well have been statues.

“Now!” Mattiew stamped his foot on the stone floors in time with his roar.

The maids scattered without a word throughout the echoing halls of the keep.

Mattiew made himself at home and collapsed on one of the lavish cushioned lounges in the sitting room. It had been quite a while since he’d last seen this place.

Back then, he’d gone under the name Veras Kilamek, a Gozar diplomat whose ship he and his crew had wrecked off the coast of Cudea. They’d been paid to impersonate the emissary and give up on negotiations with Alazar for the rights to an expedition into the Wildlands.

Though while he completed his mission, that charming diplomat—who was a lot younger than he said he was—found an affinity for House Callione’s bright young heiress. So bright in fact, that she discerned that his identity was false from the moment they met

Before he had too long to reminisce about the few good memories anyone had in this place, five guards filed into the room. Unsurprising, to say the least. But the maids had gotten Andar Callione to show up.

The crooked old man on death’s doorstep adopted a toothy grin when the nobleman laid his eyes on Mattiew.

“Nikoliades.” Andar tilted his head. “I was expecting you...later.”

“Then you know what I’m here about, you shitty old toad.” Mattiew spat. “Have Reina lift the curse on Adriana.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands of me or my wife, mutt.”

“Your wall of guards might as well be a line of sawdust.”

“Of course. But I’m the one you’d have to kill.” Andar said.

“We’ve yet to have a real duel. Don’t be so quick to prescribe a victor.” Mattiew said. “But I’d be comfortable betting on myself to kick your sorry ass.”

Andar scoffed. Mattiew was done with this. He threw himself to his feet..

“I’m not playing around this time, Callione! Lift that curse or you’re dead!” His outburst caused the guards to back away, “I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? She’s your daughter!”

“Andar, what’s going on?”

Mattiew’s head snapped to the sitting room’s entrance. A young woman who was slightly older than Adriana stood in the doorway with a little boy in her arms. Both the woman and child had unmistakable shining black hair and blue-grey eyes.

“All is well, Diana.” Andar croaked.

“Who’s this?” Mattiew composed himself.

“My mistress, along with our son, Marce. Diana is a distant cousin of my wife. Only difference is the lack of a barren womb.”

“Thanks, Andar.” The woman narrowed her eyes.

“You’ll appreciate my honesty, woman.” That was all it took to make Diana fall silent.

Mattiew blinked for a moment. He attempted to calculate the age difference, but resolved to gag instead.

“As you can see, this house now has a proper heir.” Andar said. “I’ve since accepted the fact that Adriana will not come back to reclaim her birthright.”

“Then what in Irkalla?” Mattiew asked. “You don’t even need her to inherit your fortune.”

“Because I am not one to allow a good bit of leverage to go to waste.”

Mattiew’s veins pulsed in his head. He should fill this man’s body with iron and bludgeon it to a pulp.

Andar continued, “You see, Reina put that curse on Adriana as a child, long before you ever showed up. And while I had initially been hesitant about activating it, my wife gave me a decent idea.”

“Andar Callione? Hesitant to exploit somebody?”

“You will temper your wit, boy. Lest I tell Reina to magnify the curse.”

“Do it and see what happens, you human scrotum.” Mattiew snarled.

Andar scoffed, but moved on. “There’s one simple thing I want from you, Nikoliades. One item I want you to steal. Once it’s mine, I’ll release the curse. You still have a thief’s fingers, don’t you?”

“Let’s say I do. What’s the prize?” Mattiew was hesitant to make any promises to a Callione.

“The Ouroboros of Tiamat.”

Mattiew went cold throughout his entire body. He stabilized himself against a lounge and pinched the bridge of his nose.

His tongue twisted as it tried to find an appropriate response. “The...The Ouroboros? You’re talking about the one I think you’re talking about, right?”

“There’s only one, Nikoliades.” Andar smirked.

“You think an effective use of this curse is to send me, a man without a drop of sorcerous blood, into a tournament full of the world’s most powerful sorcerers. And win you—since robbery is out of the picture—the crown awarded to the winner of the Bellirex.” Against all odds, it sounded more insane when put into words.

“Essentially.” Andar’s nonchalance made the blood in Mattiew’s clenched fists boil.

“Why in Irkalla would you pick me? Why not Adriana?” Mattiew asked. “At least she’s a sorcerer!”

“She would rather die than let me get what I want. Her only weakness is you. I don’t have a curse on you, but you happen to have that same weakness.” Andar explained.

Mattiew could just smash the geezer’s head into the wall right now. Turn his skull into a red stain. It’d be child’s play.

But that bastard was right about his weakness.

He was being turned into the pawn of yet another sorcerer. It was so easy for them to do with their special abilities, never having to work a day in their lives for anything.

Mattiew’s nails broke the skin on his palms. But he had no other choice than to swallow his anger.

“I’ll…” He ground his teeth together. “I’ll need some time to think it over.”