To my esteemed subordinate, Lucius von Solhart,

I, Cassius von Arandall, King of Vassermark, send you my warmest congratulations on the remarkable performance you have shown in governing the Misty Isles. It is with great pleasure that I have received reports of your successful efforts to turn this once-ailing colony into a thriving agricultural powerhouse.

Your service to the kingdom has not gone unnoticed. You have proven yourself to be a loyal and dedicated servant of Vassermark. However, I must also inform you that your service is not yet complete. As part of your duties to the kingdom, you are hereby summoned to report for military duty in the neighboring city of Rackvidd. Your experience and expertise will be invaluable to our forces as we continue to protect our kingdom from external threats.

Lord Raymi has been instructed to furnish you with a force of soldiers and funds. You are to take them to the southern continent and rendezvous with Bishop Jean di Jeameaux and provide whatever service is necessary to bring her back to the north to assist in matters diplomatic. As you have already fought a war in Giordana, I trust that you have all necessary skills to execute this task.

As for the management of the Misty Isles, appoint a suitable steward for your absence until such time as a proper replacement can arrive.

Waste no time and you shall be in Hearth’s Bay for the harvest festival.

I trust that you will continue to serve Vassermark with the same level of dedication and commitment that you have shown in your governance of the Misty Isles. May the blessings of the gods be upon you as you embark on this new mission.

Signed,

Cassius von Arandall

King of Vassermark

For three days tacking between islands on his way north, Lucius read that letter over and over again. He had little else to do, crammed under a tent with barely a hammock to himself at the aft of the courier ship. Aisha and the rest of us had to be left behind, to take our time putting affairs in order while he reported to Lord Raymi. The captain was droll and knew nothing of land affairs, nor intellectual aspirations. The only thing that could amuse my pupil was picking up a bit more sea cant.

When the ship put in, the sun had set and many promises of a swift carriage to the palace were made to Lucius, but he turned them down with the last weary smile he could muster. After getting through what passed as a port inspection there, and asserting his identity to keep his sword, he did not go to the palace. He headed straight off the main road and into the first den of fire and drink he could spot. He went to where men slumped against walls, laughter was raucous, and women’s clothes nearly fell off of them.

His purse was fat with genuine coin, the kind he had been swindling merchants over for a month, and while that was supposed to cover his military expenses he–rightfully–believed that there was no reason to not double his money, or more. His time gaming in Puerta Vida had been no fluke and let us not forget his adopted reputation as a hopeless gambler.

Sadly, I cannot say with certainty the name of the gambling hall he found, it surely did not exist for long. A shame, as the game he later described to me was remarkable and beyond anything that could have been safe for the house. They were operating the most absurd form of gambling, based on an enormous scale. They choked up the lever arm and slowly added random objects to either end’s platform. All the while, betters placed wagers on which way it would fall. The great racket of the gambling den occurred just before they freed the scale to tip; when they auctioned off weights. The gamblers were allowed to pay money to have a weight put on their side, that money going directly to the employees.

How they rigged it, for these things are always rigged, I can only speculate. Of course, they were taking in money from drink, food, carnal entertainment, and from the purchased weights but how could an enterprising gambling den leave money on the table? They surely had somebody in the crowd placing consistent bets to skim money from the back and forth slosh of gold occurring amidst the gamblers. I can think of several stigmata that would safely allow betting, and I must assume they had such a stigmata user. Why else would they have constructed such a strange game?

Curiosity aside, this game was but a mere backdrop. It took hardly any time at all before Lucius had been set up beside the display platform. They gave him a table and waitresses who kept his wine full and a rotating cast of men of means across from him. There was a slew of would-be sycophants, in faux jewelry and gaudy silks, too eager to challenge him in one board game or another. They surely saw their losses as a business expense, but it only paid off for one man and that man already had business ties with Lucius.

Mateo Mendez, son of Faezel Mendez of the Shipping Investments Guild, found Lucius while the moon was high and string players were making farce of the pit boss as he loaded mugs of ale on one side and goblets of wine on the other. He sat with a flourish and produced a bowl of honeyed dates from within the billowing sleeves of his thobe. “How wonderful to meet my benefactor here.” Introductions were made as he grinned golden teeth.

By this time Lucius had fattened his purse, but spent nearly as much as he had pocketed. He lived like a bear preparing for winter, packing himself with life before his journey to the desert. “No longer, I’m afraid. Someone else will be picking up my end of the contracts.”

Mateo kept his smile but planted his arms upon his knees. “Yes, it seems that Duke Feugard has gotten his eldest son the job. Apparently, he thinks a court flower can pick up where you left off.”

Lucius mirrored the man’s posture, bringing their heads almost together as both began picking at the candy fruit. “Can’t blame a man for setting up his son. The Misty Isles were never mine in the first place.”

Mateo chuckled. “They weren’t even Vassermarks, but you’ve now mixed our labor in with them. You’ve made those islands ours. We’re invested.”

“There is little that one man, no matter his titles, can do to rip up fields of crop. He’d have to be beyond stupid to try.”

“Armies do march on their stomachs, don’t they? But I have my hesitations about whether the young Feugard will give us the same consideration. It’s his family that is being dragged first into this bloodfest.”

“Portacheval is rather far from Feugard’s domain.”

“But they will be expected to furnish the most troops. It’s Prince Gabriel that is trying to expand Vassermark’s influence.”

Lucius smirked. “To put it charitably. So you think that the little Feugard will filch on the deal? Will snap up the shipments as a wartime measure?”

“With all due respect, I’m not sure you will be around to do anything about it.”

“Oh, I’ll be back. I’m very hard to kill,” Lucius said, jabbing his thumb to his chest.

“All the same, I must ask for some actions as guarantee. You understand, don’t you? In your absence, we’ll first go to your family to insure our contracts are respected.”

Lucius held up his hand to stop the merchant. “No, I have a better proposal for you. The Solhart family can’t stand up to the Feugards.” The merchant had been intended to demand certain lands as compensation for the seized plantations.

For a moment, Mateo’s glib smile changed to a narrowed glare. “I’m listening.”

Lucius fished out two of the dates with his fingers and popped them into his mouth. After crushing them and washing them down, he said, “Business should be done in the daylight. Set up an audience with me at the palace tomorrow why don’t you? And I’ll explain how to go about selling what you haven’t yet grown to the only people in the whole nation that can push back against the Feugards.” When he gestured, the ladies of the establishment understood his cue well enough. Theys warmed the two men.

The vixens wrapped them up with arms like asps and bottoms like pillows. Wine was refreshed amid a gambling spree. One of the weights had been a porcelain vase and it smashed upon the floor. Out came clubs and blood. Mateo shook his head. “You know, you’re a very brave man to come to a place like this without a guard.”

“I don’t need any,” Lucius said, not taking his eyes off the disciplinary action across the room from them.

“And that’s what makes you special. You’re larger than life.”

Lucius fished out a stack of silver talons and slapped them on the table. “My treat,” he said, with a gesture to the black haired woman in Mateo’s lap.

The merchant laughed. “A slight problem my friend. I prefer to not risk my blood.”

The girl in Lucius’ lap laughed and reached out to pat his knee. “That’s not a problem,” she said, gesturing for the other girl to leave. A moment later, a lad in the same attire as the women was sent to him.

Lucius stayed only long enough to see the base grin unhidden upon Mateo’s face. The merchant should have known better than to expose his desires to a business partner like that, but Mateo was still young and learning. Lucius would have been a fool to not profit from the cultural differences between Vassermark and Giordana. Such treatment could scarcely be found in the north at this time.

By this time in the night, the sun had almost risen anew, alcohol was transmogrifying to a hangover within him, and he had yet to present himself to Lord Raymi. Naturally, he tarried further, and used some of his earned coin to freshen up at a public bathhouse. I suspect that if he had a friend he could have trusted, he would have drowned himself there to purge the headache before it began.

Alas, he stood at the steps of the Rackvidd palace with dawn warming his shoulders. The servants took his name and showed him into one of the drawing rooms for as long as it took to carry word up the chain. He made no fuss about the wait, every moment was more time to recover.

In his mind, he fought the demons of sleep and rehearsed what he might say to the one noble lord who probably knew he was a fraud and yet that we could not touch. He had alluded as much when Aisha and Sera visited, but also insinuated that he didn’t mind. A delicate path to tread.

It was not Lord Raymi who greeted him.

A black haired beauty strode into the room across from him. Her hair was held back by a glittering net of pearls, accenting the sash of white silk cinched round her tapered waist. Her dress, black save for a royal hue revealed by the sun, draped her body, building upon her curves as she smiled at him. Felicia vi Raymi greeted him, “So wonderful to see you again, my champion.”

Lucius could sense the expectations she brought with her and the prospect of hopeless military duty instantly became preferable.