Sunlight shone in through the window behind Ravengel as he sat at his desk, rifling through a stack of documents. The walls of his study muffled the bustling palace outside; the only sounds in the room were a soft hum overshadowed by the shuffling of papers.
The document before him was from Lord Vycaal, the Master of Trade, and its contents pertained to a trade deal between Lysia and Imrahm. With his right hand, he seared his Soul Essence onto the document. The sigil of his House—two swords crossed and pointed down over a dragon head—appeared on it like a brand.
As head of the council, it was his duty to oversee these affairs, and with his seal, the deal was complete. He flipped it over and stared at the one beneath it. He sighed as he read over the paper. The day was fast approaching when an envoy from the Imperium would come collecting their tribute, and this was a reminder.
The humming intensified as a warmth suffused him, though the sensation barely registered. He leaned back in the plush leather chair and stared at the ceiling.
It won't be long now, he told himself.
Pretty soon, that damned princess would have to marry someone if she wanted to inherit the crown, and he had everything in line so that his eldest would be the only viable suitor.
He chuckled at the thought of Lysia's royal family. He hated the insufferable king and his weak-willed, kind-hearted nature. Everything the king stood for was in direct conflict with his own interests, so he had to act if he wanted to achieve his goal.
The thing about people like the late king was that they were too trusting. It was hardly a challenge to manipulate the man. A single report of beast-men raiders attacking their borders and capturing their citizens for enslavement was all it took. That dullard and his righteous son willingly ran headlong into a trap he had orchestrated. Of course, without the help of the beast-men of Lupinval, the plan never would have succeeded so flawlessly.
He closed his eyes as the memory of him running his sword through the King's heart sent a shiver of ecstasy down his spine. The humming intensified, coming from below his desk. A wicked smile crossed his face as he recalled his sword falling upon the prince's neck, severing it in one fell swoop.
He grunted in satisfaction before opening his eyes. They fell on his pet, who remained below his desk, like the obedient slave he was. Ravengel ran a hand over his pet's soft, spotted-black fur and scratched him behind the ear, eliciting a rumbling purr.
"Good boy."
His pet's eyes opened, and their green slitted orbs stared up at him with reverence as if he were king. Images of his son sitting on the Lysian throne while he stood behind him, the true ruler, roused him once more.
He pushed his chair back and stood, moving to the side to give him room.
"On your feet," Ravengel commanded.
His fantasies ran wild as the room filled with the rhythmic echoes of their twisted and dark play. This time, it was he who sat on the throne. Not the Lysian throne, but the Imperial throne, as his citizens prostrated before him in deference.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
His pet froze as he whirled to face the door. "What?"
The door swung open, and his wife, Amathara, adorned in a brilliant, flowing blue dress, stepped in with his eldest son trailing behind her. His son hadn't even bothered to close the door, marching straight up to his desk and slamming a hand on it. "We've got a problem, Father!"
Ravengel sighed, his lust fading just like his fantasies, and he pushed his pet off him.
"Leave us," he said without sparing his pet a second glance as they scurried past his wife and son and out the door.
His wife closed the door and turned to him with a devilish smirk. "I see you were enjoying yourself, husband."
Ravengel ignored his wife's jab and looked at his son as he pulled his chair to his desk and sat down. "What trouble?"
Garn pushed off his desk as Amathara strode up beside him. "Members of the Shining Arrow Guild have returned from their expedition to Castle Dumar," Amathara said, crossing her arms.
"So soon?" Ravengel queried, a frown forming on his brow as he looked at Garn. "Where's your brother?"
Garn hesitated.
"Where is he!" Ravengel shouted.
Spurred by his outburst, Garn finally spoke. "I believe he is dead. He wasn't among the group that returned."
"What about the ambush we had planned?" Ravengel hissed, his fury barely concealed.
"We don't know. They somehow survived it," Amathara answered.
How? Ravengel thought. What in the bloody hells was Hivengel doing?
"Yes," Garn added, his face becoming grim, "so I sent a messenger to Castle Dumar and…"
"Spill it, you worm!" Ravengel spat.
Garn glared at him but continued. "Hivengel and most of his Thralls were dead in the castle."
That stopped Ravengel dead in his tracks as his mind tried to comprehend Garn's words. "How?"
"Ravengel was decapitated while his Thralls were nothing more than piles of bloodied mush."
"You're mistaken. No one in the Shining Arrow Guild could have possibly killed Hivengel and his Thralls. They'd need an army, not a single company."
"I know. That is why I went and checked after receiving word and confirmed it's true."
"But there was something else as well," Garn continued. "Two odd individuals were spotted accompanying the Shining Arrow Guild, a man and a woman. Show him, Mother."
Amathara's hand struck out and slapped Garn across the face. "You do not order me around, you hear me!"
Ravengel remained unbothered by their interaction, his mind preoccupied with discerning what had happened and how.
Satisfied she had put Garn in his place, Amathara channeled her Soul Essence and projected moving images onto Ravengel's desk.
The scene playing before him was a memory from a guard that Amathara had extracted using Psionic Essence.
The first thing that immediately drew his attention was a woman in the group. She looked like an Althori, except that she was much smaller, with pink hair and piercing yellow eyes. But the oddest thing was that her ears weren't as long as theirs, extending just to the tip of her head before coming to a point.
His heart raced with excitement. He could already think of several nobles who'd pay mountains of Soul Crystals for an exquisite creature such as her.
He was then pulled back to the scene when a man and two cloaked women approached the pink-haired woman. The next succession of events that played out happened so fast that if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have surely missed them.
Ravengel stood and glared at the image, which had frozen on the man's face. It was a face he had never seen before, his physical features not matching any race he'd ever met, as his hazel eyes bore into the guard, into him, with a look of pure… indifference.
"Who is he?" Ravengel asked, never taking his eyes off the image.
"He introduced himself as Joon Mai-kall-sun," Garn answered.
"Where are they now?"
"I've tracked both him and the woman, as well as over half the group, to a group of inns near the Guild District. Afterward, they left for the Shining Arrow Guild house. They should currently be there as we speak."
"Tsk. The Shining Arrow Guild. Once news of this reaches the palace, we'd have to transfer over ownership of Castle Dumar and the surrounding lands to them," Ravengel said with a growl.
"Then let's make sure it doesn't," Amathara said.
Garn straightened. "I've already placed people around the Guild house. All you need to do is give the order."
"Do it."
Garn nodded before a Speaking Crystal appeared in his hand. It glowed for a few heartbeats as Garn channeled his Soul Essence into it before it died. "It's done. They'll be dead within the hour."
"Good," Ravengel said, settling back into his seat. "We'll just need to—"
However, before he could continue, the Speaking Crystal in Garn's hand pulsed a dim blue light. Garn answered the call and spoke with whoever was on the other end for a moment before his face went pale.
"What is it?" Ravengel asked when Garn finished.
"I have to return," Garn said, turning on his heels. "An adjudicator from the Imperium has just arrived in Revelcroft."
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June sat there as both Layhanna and Matil stared at him, slack-jawed. A couple of silent seconds passed before Layhanna recomposed herself and stared at him wearily. "To find a new home?"
"Yes."
"You said your home no longer existed. What happened?"
He sighed as his gaze wandered to the ceiling. "Let's just say that I wasn't there to protect it. Suffice it to say, Quin and I are looking for a new place to settle down."
"And… what? You've chosen Lysia?"
June just shrugged noncommittally. "It wasn't Lysia that attracted me to settling here. It was your Guild's unique position and the opportunity it presented."
Layhanna's glare turned murderous once more. "I will not lower myself to becoming your lackey."
"Nothing of the sort," June said with a laugh. "Think of me as nothing more than a benefactor with no attachments."
"What do you mean?"
June got up and paced around the chair he had been sitting in. "I've only been in Lysia for less than a day, and I'm already not a big fan of what I'm seeing. The Empire even less so."
"Then why bother staying?" Matil asked.
"Because I couldn't just turn a blind eye to the plight of your Guild members when I have the power to intervene. And in doing so, I now feel responsible for some of those we rescued from the Castle. I can't just turn my back on them when they've got nowhere else to go."
Matil's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "How altruistic of you."
June just smiled at him, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, before turning to Layhanna. "Besides, you no longer have the manpower or the finances to facilitate such an endeavor. That is where Quin, those who remained with us, and I come in."
"So, you'd willingly help us, support us, and fund us in claiming Castle Dumar?"
"Yes."
It was her turn to stare at him with distrust. "Why? You barely know Urzenkeil and Merriam, let alone having just met Matil and me less than thirty minutes ago. How could you possibly trust us so easily?"
"Vern hated all of you, despite joining only at his father's orders. That's enough of an indication for me that you're all good people."
Layhanna's face softened for the first time since their meeting began as she considered his offer. With a lapse in their conversation, June really took the time to focus more on their surroundings. Not that he hadn't been doing so the entire time; he was, just not with his full attention.
The entire time, he had been aware of a growing number of individuals converging on the Shining Arrow Guild house from multiple angles, and now had the building surrounded. Their numbers have grown past fifty as they all hid with various Essences to conceal their presence. But that had done little to hide them from his perception.
He divided his attention between one of his clones, the one he sent to investigate Garn's residence, and the memories of what it had witnessed rushed into his mind. He winced in disgust, wishing he had filtered through them first before just straight up experiencing them all at once.
With a slight shake of his head, he focused on where Garn and Perrim were, finding them in an office on the second level. They were having quite a discussion about him and Quin as he eavesdropped, gleaning whatever useful information he could.
Their conversation ended abruptly when Garn fell onto his desk, unconscious, and Perrim left the room. Having learned all he could here, June dispatched his clone to the capital. It was about time he investigated what Ravengel was plotting.
His attention returned to the Guild house, and he looked at Layhanna. "Are you expecting any visitors today?" June asked Layhanna, pulling her from her musing.
She looked at him with a start. "What? Uh, aside from you two, no one."
June nodded as he noted Garn's men scattering like cockroaches in daylight before Perrim and his men landed before the steps of the Guild house, causing the building to rock.
Layhanna rose from her seat, confusion and panic in her voice. "What was that?"
"That… would be the visitors," June said before he appeared before Perrim and his men.
He smiled and waved as if greeting an old friend. "Hello there!"