“Where do you think you’re going? A teleportation scroll won’t save you from me, I have unfinished business with you, Chazrick!” Dink shouted, brandishing his sword.

He kicked open the door while murderously rushing toward the pair of departing High-Elves. Thick green light swirled around the pair’s feet. It rotated faster as it climbed to engulf them. It didn’t look like it would complete its activation before Dink reached them.

Prince Chazrick frowned in annoyance at Dink’s aggressive entrance. His eyes drifted to the caged Myconid resting in his off-hand. His hands flexed subconsciously at his side to test their movement. It appeared both of their draconic bloodlines were still being suppressed by Master Tavia’s magic.

“Count yourself fortunate for Master Tavia’s intervention. I would have already collected your head as a trophy to mount inside my study. Do not deceive yourself into believing I haven’t noticed your lack of mana focus. Your earlier outburst was only possible through external stimulation. I am not bound by such limitations,” Chazrick arrogantly stated.

“Stop stalling for time. I’m not here to listen to you stroke your ego while you flee like a coward,” Dink sneered.

“Tsk. You think too highly of yourself, Goblin,” Chazrick haughtily replied.

“How about I make things comfortable for you? I’ll put aside the mushroom so we can fight man to man without bloodlines. Regardless, the outcome won’t be any different, you will lose. It will be almost effortless for me to slaughter an insipid knife-ears like you. What say you, Princeling?” Dink suggested, indifferently throwing the caged Myconid onto a nearby stand.

Dink didn’t wait for the cage to land before acting. He lunged forward, thrusting his sword toward Prince Chazrick’s neck. He smirked in amusement, simultaneously pulling Madame Sharan in front of the blade’s trajectory. Her face quickly contorted in surprised terror while attempting to resist. Dink effortlessly adjusted the angle of his sword. Instead, mercifully slammed the flat of the blade against her temple. She slumped unconscious into the Prince’s arms.

Dink fluidly slipped past her collapsing body, using the recoil to reverse his momentum. He pivoted on the spot while leaping upward. He directed an underhanded slash at the Prince, ignoring his hostage. The blade sheared off a few stray strands of Madame Sharan’s hair as it flew past her delicate nose toward Chazrick’s exposed throat. His expression quickly changed from arrogant amusement into an anxious grimace. There was a flash of green light as Dink’s sword sliced through his target without any resistance.

Dink gracefully landed facing opposite where the pair stood. He angrily tossed his sword onto the floor with a clatter, spinning on his heels to face behind him. Where the pair had been moments earlier was now empty. Only the faint wisp of mana remained.

“Fuck, I was so close! Scions of gold-ranked houses live up to their reputation of deep pockets. There’s no telling where they went,” Dink cursed in frustration.

“Ahem, actually there might be a way to trace their location,” a feminine voice politely interrupted from the doorway.

Dink’s ears twitched in surprise, he hadn’t noticed their approach. He casually turned to welcome the new arrivals. It was a young Halfling woman that had spoken, backed by members of the Women's Council. Master Tavia was conspicuously absent.

“How pray, do you intend to do that?” Dink curtly asked, breathing in deeply to compose himself.

“Stop messing around, Tahlea. We can’t let down our new groom,” another Halfling woman nudged the first.

Dink stiffened at her words, involuntarily stepping backward. He suspiciously inspected the pair of young Halfling women. They both lacked the braid of married women but showed the subtle signs of maturity of their race, such as developed breasts and buttocks. The one who spoke first, Taleah, stood nervously. She had wavy blonde hair hanging freely to her waist and pale skin. The second had fiery red hair with lightly tanned skin covered in freckles.

“What do you mean ‘new groom’? I don’t even know who you are,” Dink asked, his face contorting into a grimace of disgust.

“I’m your first wife, Riva. This is your second wife, Tahlea. Master Tavia, has said it’s appropriate for you to be guided by a wife-pair. She even assigned her own daughter, Tahlea. Considering you’ve been marked as a friend of our people, you must be very important. Tell me, who are you and why has Sister-Mother left immediately after naming us your brides?” Riva curiously asked. Dink was too stunned to speak, he stood frozen in horror.

This can’t be. I never anticipated this happening. Who in their right mind would attempt to wed their daughter to me after knowing who I am? The Sword Saint, the pariah of the entire fucking world. There’s no getting out of this. All it takes for a Halfling wedding to become official is approval from the Women’s Council. The opinion of the brides and groom is irrelevant because they’re not even considered an adult capable of making their own decisions until they’re wed. Fuck.

Dink hung his head in defeat, cradling his face in his hand. The tickle of mana being used drew him out of his reverie. He looked up in time to see a faint Sigil appear in the air in front of him. Tahlea was casting her spell.

Faint green fog gathered into existence, forming the shape of Prince Chazrick and Madame Sharan in the last moments before the teleport activated. Tahlea waved her hands in circles through the fog, distorting its shape in the air. It spread outward, revealing the surrounding landscape of murky trees. The scene became smaller as it zoomed out to show more trees and other landmarks until it displayed a bird’s eye view of a city edging a swamp.

“They’re at House Hydra inside the Ewhor swamp,” Estra said behind him.

Dink turned at her arrival. She was pushing her way to the front of the crowd of Halfling women. Her face was composed but Dink could see evidence of her sorrow in her appearance. An out of place strand of hair here and a torn seam there from where she clutched at her blouse in despair. Not to mention, he could feel the depths of her heartbreak through their bond.