Even someone as experienced and hard-boiled as knight Lucius couldn’t keep perspiration from seeping out of his wrinkled forehead. Not that the fault of his failure lay with him, after all, anyone with proper sense would be sweating at the sight before them.

The sight of a meeting between Agreis Scarva and Vaargo Sergel right in the middle of a crowded street. The crowd were giving the two noblemen a wide berth. And they had good reason. By how angry lord Vaargo was acting, shouting and screaming at Agreis, who knew when he might pull a blade on the lanky man. No man or woman who claimed to have their sanity intact would be eager to be implicated in that mess. At first, Agreis seemed to have enough sense to realize that, but facing the well-placed insults Vaargo had thrown at him, he too was pretty riled up now. They looked about ready to battle, though if they did, house Scarva would soon have to change heads.

“Hurry up, my lord!” Lucius whispered. He had sent the bird he kept with him to Arakan as soon as he spotted Agreis and Vaargo on the same street, but who knew how much time it might take for him to come here. If they began fighting before that, someone would have to stop them. Stopping fighting on the streets, the duty lay on the city patrol, but since for a while, Lucius couldn’t even see their shadow on the streets. It was as if the gods wanted the fight to happen.

“The gods or…” Lucius muttered as a sudden realization dawned on him. “Someone else?”

The words hadn’t left his mouth fully when Voogan shouted, drawing out his sword and running towards Agreis, who, seemingly realizing his folly, let out a high-pitched shriek and stepped back among his guards. But Vaargo wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Advance!” he shouted towards the four knights accompanying him. “Cut down these sewage bred mongrels!”

The four slid their swords out and stalked forward. Agreis’s guards, hired mercenaries, the lot of them, shivered under the pressure of those veteran knights, two of which, Lucius recognized, had been with Egregor that day.

The threat of death won out against the allure of money, and the first guard dropped his sword and backed out. After a brief look at his direction, the other guards accompanied his decision. They were, as hired mercenaries, expected to fight small-time bandits and thugs, not face the assured death a trained knight would bring to them.

“Where are you going!” Agreis screamed. “Cowards! Come back here! Protect me!”

“No one would protect you, now!” Vaargo laughed. his figure loomed over the thin Agreis, who seemed all the thinner under his hulking shadow.

Agreis gulped, the fine silk tunic of his sticking to his back, wet from the copious amount of sweat his pores dispensed. “Look, lord Vaargo,” he croaked. “This has gone quite far enough. Now let us not continue this farce any longer or it would only bring disgrace to our noble status.”

“Our noble status?” Vaargo sneered, leaning forward like a beast ready to pounce on its prey. “A small merchant like you dare lecture me about my noble status?”

Agreis took a step back, his eyes darting to the crowd for anyone that could help, but although out of pure, morbid curiosity, the pedestrians had halted in their tracks, they lacked the bone in their backs to aid him.

He turned to face the predatorial eyes of the other man. “Look, lord Vaargo, I know—”

“Be silent and,” Vaargo brought his sword down on the other man as he roared, “DIE!”

The clashing of metal on metal silenced the shouts of alarm. Vaargo’s blade glanced away off the sword that stood firm over the head of a crouching of Agreis who crouched to the ground in an undignified curl that belied his status as a nobleman.

“Lucius?” Vaargo narrowed his eyes to a slit only a blade could pass through and pierced the old knight with them. “How dare you! Get out of my way this instant!” he growled.

Lucius shook his head, full of regret for suddenly jumping out because now it was on the block too if Vaargo desired to chop his sword down. And looking at the battle stances of the four knights, he would hardly be able to stop such an outcome. Still, he firmed his jaws and looked at the nobleman.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, lord Vaargo,” he said. “Going any further than you already have would put house Sergel in a difficult position.”

“It’s the affair of my house. A mere knight has no need to worry about that,” Vaargo warned. “Get out of my way or I will have your knighthood stripped for insubordination.”

“A Mere knight, huh…” Lucius chuckled, glancing over Vaargo’s shoulder so furtively that the other man didn’t notice it. “I may be a mere knight, but I am also a knight with the right to stop you.”

“Who gave you the right?”

“I did!” a voice proclaimed, forcing Vaargo to turn around and face the man trotting in on horseback. “I gave him the right to stop you from making a fool of yourself out in the streets.” he said, stopping in the middle of the four knights who stood before Vaargo in a battle-ready formation. “As the head of the house, I seem to have gained that authority, my dear uncle.”

A group of ten knights followed behind him, led by the head of the knights of house Sergel, Biorn Lionheart himself. His intact eye fixed the four knights in a glare cold enough to freeze a pool of lava.

“You are in the presence of the head of the house, knights,” his gravelly voice grated against their ears. They looked at each other in helpless resignation before lowering their weapons and bowing towards Arakan.

Biorn’s attention shifted to the gathering crowd, still watching the debacle with varying amounts of interest. “Disperse the crowd,” he instructed his knights before giving Lucius an appreciative nod.

Lucius nodded back, then turned towards Arakan. “My lord,” he bowed.

“Lord Arakan!” A gasping and wheezing Agreis Scarva stood up once again. He looked around, relieved at the averted danger before his eyes fell on the man silently scowling at him. Vaargos Sergel. He couldn’t help an involuntary jump of fright, and no wonder, after what he had faced.

“Lord Arakan,” he began once again, “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“There is no need, lord Agreis,” Arakan smiled. “I am merely doing what I should.”

“No, no, no! It is my life you rescued. I have to thank you properly.” Agreis glanced at the two knights whom he had seen with Egregor Sergel. Despite how he may act at times, one could not be a merchant noble without having enough intelligence to account for, and being the head of a house of one, he did have some sense. So guessing the truth did not prove a difficult task for him. Especially the murderous look those two were giving him, as if warning him. There was no doubt indeed!

But if that is the game they wish to play...

“As a sign of gratitude,” his attention once again turned to Arakan, “I wish to inform you of something of great import to your house. It’s about your third uncle—”

Arakan put up his hand, stopping him. “Before that, this ordeal must have caused you great distress. So I suggest you return to your residence and have a good rest,” he said, giving the man a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “As for other things, we could discuss them at length at some other time.”

“But—”

“Please take a few knights and escort lord Agreis Scarva to his home, Lucius,” Arakan said to the old knight, “And remember to pay attention to his safety.”

“Right you are, sire.” Lucius gave a flourishing bow to him, before turning to a hesitant Agreis. “Please come with me, lord Agreis,” he said, donning a tone ominous enough to chill the nobleman. “Staying out in the streets might not be fully safe for you right now.”

The suggestion underlying the words worked as intended, agitating the already alarmed nobleman even more. He bowed to Arakan once and without another word, left with a

group of five knights.

Arakan turned to face Vaargo, who had remained strangely silent throughout the whole thing. The look he received could fit the definition of extreme discontent. He sighed and asked, “You do have an idea of the disaster you could have caused if that sword stuck lord Agreis, don’t you?”

“What disaster?” Vaargo crossed his arms before him. “He is just a small noble. No one in this city would even notice if he died.”

Arakan stared at him, eyes opened wide in disbelief. With such a declaration, a possibility that he otherwise would not have thought of now occurred to him. This uncle of his was perhaps a tad… foolish?

He shook his head in exasperation. “If that is what you think. Now please return and home and reflect on your doings.”

“I won’t. It is my freedom to go wherever I want.”

“If you don’t go back,” Arakan said, tilting his head towards the remaining six knights, including Biorn, that came with him, “I will have to use my authority as the head of the house to send you back.”

Vaargo frowned. “Are you threatening me?”

“I am merely doing my duty as the head of the house, keeping ”

Vaargo gave him a long, hard look. “Alright, head of the house. I will do as instructed,” he said, turning around and walking away with his head held high.

Arakan watched him leave with his knights and sighed. At the last moment, Agreis wanted to tell him something. And if he wasn’t wrong, he knew what he wanted to say. He needed to pay the man a visit when he had time. He mounted his horse and turned to Biorn. “Let us take our leave too,” he said, spurring his horse forward.

If he had stayed a bit longer and watched the crowd carefully, he might have noticed a masked figure clad in black and grey mingling with the crowd. But he did not and unnoticed by everyone, the figure gave his back a last glance before taking off the way Agreis had gone.

Prairie Nectar, one of the finest wines that money could buy, exported from beyond the land of Clover by a few of the bravest peddlers in these lands, and the drink Agreis Scarva bragged about owning to his nobleman friends. But now, before it could touch his lips, Agreis smashed a glass full of it to the floor of his chamber.

Instead of calming down with time, his fury inflated to the point of boiling. Who did those Sergels think they were? Nose up that high. It was only right that they were being betrayed by one of their own. And that Vaargo Sergel…

He gripped the armrest of his chair, fighting back the chill creeping through his spine. Never before had his life ever been in line.

He would not forget. No! He could not forget the humiliation he faced today.

He frowned. After seeing those two knights, he had guessed this incident was Egregor’s doing. But was Leon Ancrombe involved in it too?

He stood up and started pacing around the room. It was possible. He knew too much. If they were trying to kill him, then he really was in trouble. Who could protect a small noble like him in this city?

The more he thought about it, the more he became assured. There was only one person. Her Majesty the queen. She should be able to protect him. Despite how powerful those large noble houses were, she was still the most powerful in the city. If he were to inform her of who Leon Ancrombe, or as he was sure of it, the whole Ancrombe house behind him, was colluding with…

After a moment of thought, he sat down before his desk and took one of the inexpensive parchment paper. Directly informing the queen might bring to bear his own sordid deeds, especially his involvement with Ruthberk. Although he had only been using them to put those damn Morases into their place, that act was no less traitorous than what house Ancrombe was doing.

His pen paused. Was that why Leon Ancrombe had given him the secret letter code of contacting the Ruthberk army? To keep a lease on him?

“That bastard!” he ground his teeth, focusing all his grievances on the other and failing to notice his own folly at noticing such an obvious fact. He put his pen down, writing in the code he received too. A knock came from his door just as he finished enveloping the parchment.

The newly enveloped parchment dropped from his hand as he sprang up. “Who is it?” he called.

“I have brought your meal, sire.”

Agreis was not sure he recognized the sultry, feminine voice from the other side of the door. Well, he couldn’t be bothered to remember the voice of every servant his house had. He looked at the sky from his window. The sun was beginning to dip. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing. He was also beginning to feel the pang of hunger churn his stomach.

“Come in,” he ordered.

The woman who carried a covered tray in through the door surprised Agreis. Of the women he had seen, from both from the upper and lower class of the society, very few would be able to compare to the attraction the woman before his eyes presented.

“Who… are you?” he asked.

Instead of answering, the woman gave him an alluring smile that took his breath away. She let go of the tray and Agreis only noticed the light of the setting sun flicker on something in her hand before she dove into his chest. His surprise turned into shock as he noticed searing pain in his midsection. He drew back from her. Shock turned to horror as the crimson red spread on his white linen shirt like fire to a dry straw bed.

He lifted his eyes, coming face to face with the smiling face of the woman. The weapon she twirled between her fingers, the knife. He recognized it! It was the same one that the masked man who accompanied Leon had used.

The realization that the masked man was, in fact, a woman brought him no joy, and when he opened his mouth in an attempt to scream and call for help, the pommel of her knife smashed into his throat, strangling his voice in the bud. He understood she would kill him, and looking at her smile as the blade once again sunk right below his ribs when she could have easily thrust it into his heart, he also understood she enjoyed the act. His death, it would be a slow and agonizing one.

He turned around and his body convulsed as another stab went into his back. His teeth clamped on the blood dribbling from his mouth as he stumbled forward, his body falling face-first onto his table. He grabbed at the stacks and heaps of very important documents and notes, and as he would have never done, tried to throw them at her. She dashed forward again, completely unaffected by the flying pieces of parchments, scrolls and envelopes, half of which didn’t even reach her, and stabbed his hand. He groaned, trying to escape towards the open door, giving it his all into running.

He had already done everything he could, so hopefully trying to survive as best as he could, was all he had left. And if he could not, he hoped people would notice what he had done, because the assassin clearly didn’t.

The red faded from the woman’s vision as she slowly stood up from the body of her latest handiwork. Killing people with a single stroke. Nothing was as drab as that. She was glad she had enough time to enjoy herself properly this time. That being said, it turned into a bit of a mess. Other than scattered pieces of parchments, a few toppled over furniture, and lots and lots of blood, it had remained relatively unaltered. That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

Opening up a few cupboards and safes proved no challenge at all, after all, lock picking was one of the must have skills to learn if one wanted to survive the trials she had faced. She emptied the contents of most on the floor, making the chamber even messier. Moving on, she opened the dresser and her face lit up in an even more alluring smile.

Coins and jewellery! And dresses, really fancy ones. Though most were for men, some were for women too.

They should belong to lady Scarva, she surmised as her eyes landed on the servant’s dress she had ‘borrowed’. Completely soaked in blood. Her brows furrowed, and she ripped them off her body. Choosing to put on a nice sky-blue tunic from the bunch, she scattered the rest to the floor as well. And of course, how could she forget a few pieces of jewellery and some coins?

Standing back, she took another gander at the chamber. Other than the pincushion of a nobleman lying in a pool of his own blood and other more undesirable bodily fluids, it looked like a typical robbery incident. A bitter expression emerged on the woman’s face. Maybe she should not have indulged so much?

She sighed. What was done was done. Maybe people would take it as a madman’s doing.

Skipping towards the door, she picked up her grey cloak that she had kept in the tray and draped it on before heading for the window.

She did not forget to smash the window panes to bits before she disappeared through it.