Duchess Charlotte Desmarais stared at the pieces of ribbon hanging from the wall. They hung from the painting of a great tree that covered most of the wall. The entire piece had been her design. A representation of the many leaves of House Desmarais. Each ribbon was connected to the soul energy of one of the House’s retainers. Only those who had achieved their Tertiary Class, with a few exceptions, like the Twins, warranted a place among the leaves of the tree. She had created each ribbon herself, forming the tether between the individual and their ribbon, before placing it on the tree. The perfect way to monitor those who served the House. The perfect way to see when a leaf fell from her tree.

  The ribbons could be used in a variety of ways, for those who knew how. If her people were captured, she could use a ribbon to kill them at a distance, keeping the secrets of the House intact. Or they could be used to send a memory or a message back to her. The equipment for such was expensive and did not survive the process so she had only sent Gordon with one of those so he could report his success. Finally, if the individual died, the ribbon would burn away as the soul energy link was severed.

  Yesterday afternoon there had been a little over fifty intact ribbons on display. This morning, there were eleven less. Almost a quarter of the House’s Gold-tier and above fighting forces had been eliminated. It took her a minute to realise that the sound of screaming wasn’t just in her mind as she released her pent-up rage. Rage and disappointment and fear. A ten-man kill squad and one of the House’s three Platinum-tier retainers, all dead.

  Something must have gone wrong. Her first suspicion was Thousand Needles. The operation had only been approved after Gordon had confirmed that it was the Eternal Grove playing escort. That uppity elf was dangerous, but he was not a pure combatant. Gordon should have been enough to keep him occupied while the kill squad took care of the targets, before the overwhelming might of her team finished the elf off. But if Thousand Needles had been waiting in the wings, her forces would have been decimated. That man was built for fighting multiple opponents and against anyone weaker than himself he was an absolute menace. It was the same reason he was so often hired for high-tier Dungeon clears by the other Houses. Letting Thousand Needles loose on an Epic Dungeon’s monster population was a relatively cheap and risk-free method for collecting processed mana. Why risk your own retainers, when you could just pay for that man to handle it? She had even heard rumours that he had lowered his prices even further in the last year, though the heavens only knew why he would do so.

  That had to be it. Thousand Needles appeared upon the battlefield and now her team was dead. Her gamble hadn’t paid off, and instead of one problem she now had three. The little bastards had multiplied. Originally her main problem had been the possibility of those children being granted a Duchy. Now, she had the additional problems of a weakened House and the possibility of friction with the Adventurer’s Guild. Would they attack her directly? Definitely not. The King wouldn’t tolerate it. But indirectly? Undoubtedly. They would hike up the cost of jobs placed by the House to obscene levels and that was if they didn’t simply have more of her Retainers assassinated. The Guild employed a few such individuals, though she wasn’t sure of who exactly. Her attempts to infiltrate the Guild had, after all, been stymied.

  She restrained the urge to bite her nails. An abhorrent habit that she thought she had done away with entirely. Just as she moved to start tearing the burned ribbons off of the wall, she heard a knock at the door. Her servants knew better than to disturb her when she was in this room, so either it was incredibly important, or someone was about to have a very bad day.

  “Come,” she called, preparing to berate her servant.

  The doors opened and were swiftly closed behind the mouse of a girl that had served her ever since she had married the Duke Desmarais. A wedding gift from her useless husband.

  “Apologies, Duchess,” muttered the girl softly, unwilling to meet her eyes. “There is a visitor here who has asked to see you. I didn’t think you would want to keep them waiting.”

  “Well, who is it?” she demanded.

  “It’s…”

  Before her servant could answer, the doors to her private study were forced open. Walking in as though he owned the place, strode the last person she had expected to see. A walking mountain of a man with short blonde hair and piercing green eyes, sitting above a chin carved from granite. Bordain Narthus, Second Prince of Etrua.

  With a casual wave of her hand, her servant fled the room, at least maintaining enough of her head to close the doors behind her. Charlotte used that moment to study the Prince. The Royal Family of Etrua was large, but was one of three who stood in current contention to assume the throne.

  The First Prince, Thane Narthus, was much like his father, the King. In both policy, opinion, and if rumours were to be believed, Classes. He was also the second strongest individual in Etrua, rumoured to be firmly entrenched in the lower gem realms, using standard Adventuring Guild rankings. His faction was the strongest of the three contenders, and he held the most sway with the Noble Houses of Etrua, her own included. They had remained staunch supporters of Thane, after all, she would always back the Royal most likely to ascend to the throne.

  Then there was Princess Morgane, the youngest of the three but considered a genius in her own right. She was a progressive, the very idea making Catherine itch. The Princess had pushed for higher taxes on the Nobility as well as more powerful protections for the unwashed masses. Such would have been ludicrous, but wealth spoke a language all its own and the Princess had a myriad of supporters in the poorer Noble Houses and the upper-class Merchants. It was easy to see how she could gather such support, when she pointed to the success of their neighbouring country of Asmuisil. The merchants saw opportunity and the poorest among the Nobles saw a way to climb out of the pits they had dug for themselves.

  Finally, there was Bordain. He held the smallest contingent among the Noble Houses. It was said he was more powerful than Thane had been at the same age. But Thane had the advantage of a decade on him and that was a tall hill to climb, indeed. His positions were also hard for many of the Nobility to swallow. Bordain, it seemed, believed only in power. For those who lacked it, they would see themselves stripped of land, title and likely lives, as only the strongest were granted Noble Dominion. In Bordain’s own words, even now, the power of Etrua was diluted by allowing so many Noble Houses to exist. Less was more. Less people, more power. Some gathered to his banner, but not enough. So, she wondered, what does he want from me?

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  “Duchess Desmarais, you have suffered an unfortunate event,” stated Bordain coldly, his voice a deep rumble through her study.

  “And what unfortunate event is that?” she asked. There was no way he could know. It had barely been a day.

  “Do you think I do not watch the City I live in?” the Prince asked cooly. “A team of eleven Retainers of House Desmarais recently entered the Capital. They were led by your pet Lava Mage. They spent days watching the gates, until finally leaving shortly after a team from the Adventurer’s Guild left, led by the Eternal Grove. My spies tell me your team followed them, before setting up a day away from the City. Clearly an ambush. Now, my spies did not manage to see the clash, as they were otherwise engaged. What they did see was the Adventurer’s Guild members returning to the Capital short two members. As for the battlefield? A new grove and signs of blood and death.”

  She watched, a sense of horror crawling through her veins, as Bordain looked up at her tree upon the wall.

  “I count eleven burned ribbons. So, they are truly dead. A mild concern for me. A major setback for you.”

  “What do you want?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  “To save you from yourself. To rescue you from your weakness. To usher you onto the right path. The path of power.”

  “And the price?” she demanded.

  “Your resources. I need to borrow some of your strength to augment my own. I need you to help me kill my sister.”

  She read his face, his body language. Shielded as his soul was, she couldn’t read his mind. Everything told her that he was deadly serious. Her gamble had failed. Was this the path out of the hole she had dug for herself? Or simply the nail in her coffin before she was buried in that same hole.

  “And in return?” she whispered, already feeling her resolve crumbling.

  “I told you. Power. Which of your fellow Duchies would you like control of when I ascend to the throne?”

  She hated herself a little as she waved Bordain Narthus to a seat and prepared herself for making a deal with a devil.

  *************

  “This can’t be the way!” Coralie yelled.

  “It is the only way,” answered her mother icily. “Every rule I have bent, every action I have taken, is to see us gain the kind of life we deserve. The gifts I guided you to. The tasks I put to the Guild so that I could raise you as perfectly as possible, all with the goal of us ascending to greater heights. Now, finally, we have our chance. You will enrol in the war effort with Asmuisil. Due to your association with the Guild, you will have some say in which cohort you will be assigned to. The King has set all three of the contenders for the throne a front to defend. You will assist Princess Morgane to the best of your abilities. You will do as she asks. I don’t care if she demands you lick her boots! You will do it! You will get close to her. And then, when the signal is given, you will pour this into one of her drinks. With this one action, you will gain us everything we ever wanted.”

  Coralie glared at the tiny vial of clear liquid her Mother was holding.

  “Everything you ever wanted,” she whispered.

  She didn’t even see her mother’s hand blur as it caught her across the cheek, sending her to the floor with blood leaking from her mouth.

  “How dare you spit on the efforts I have taken for you!”

  Her mother continued to yell, to berate her, but she tuned it out. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before, even if it was getting worse. She just didn’t know what to do about it. Her mother was, at least, partially right. She had made many sacrifices to advance Coralie down her path. An ice affinity in a place like Etrua was almost unheard of. The expenses to develop her affinity and maintain it had been exorbitant. She had often heard it whispered that of the three Prefects, Evelynn, her mother, was the strongest. She could have gotten assigned to another Guild Headquarters, in a better country, with more opportunities. Yet they had stayed in Etrua. Coralie had always wondered why. Now she knew. Her mother dreamed of them becoming Nobility. Could she do this thing to give her Mother what she had always wanted? The tears on her cheek had already frozen, her loss of emotional control releasing some of her own mana. Her mother knelt next to her, treating her wounded cheek.

  “Just this one last thing, dearest, then we can finally be free,” whispered her Mother, as she wiped the blood from Coralie’s lips.

  It was always one last thing, thought Coralie, already knowing she would do as her Mother asked. As she had always done, even when it tore her apart to do so. Another sliver of hate took root in her heart, but she couldn’t tell if it was directed at her mother, or at herself.

  *************

  Arikanvil turned over the orb in his hand, reviewing it with his spatial senses. It was his first prototype and it was as imperfect as he might have expected it to be. He was no Rune Lord, but he had done the best with what he could. It was enough. Enough to prove that his hopes were possible. That freedom was possible. He could refine the design, improve the accuracy, but it lacked the materials he required. Materials that would be very difficult for him to obtain. The very idea that he, who could go anywhere, bypass any barrier, step through universes uncounted, The Wanderer himself, could not obtain the objects he desired, was infuriating!

  The room shook and he was forced to suppress his rage, lest he damage the research station. His Heralds were not due back any time soon and finding them to draw them back early would come with its own costs. He had waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

  Turning his attention to the green and blue sphere below his orbiting research station, he considered another option. The boy from a Dead Realm and his friend were both ascending faster than he would have predicted. There were risks involved in that. Risks they were entirely ignorant of, on this backwater of a planet in a relatively weak universe. He had avoided going to them, so far. One resonance was an anomaly; two, however, was a sign of things to come. He could descend and give them the advice they needed, and in return they could do him a service or three. The Dead Realm technology had, after-all, paved the way for his prototype. Perhaps the society that created such had other knowledge that could assist him. And with his advice, the pair would be qualified to repay the debt. Reciprocity would be maintained. The System would have its due.

  Sitting down at his desk he began planning how much he would tell them. He needed them pliable enough that the knowledge had value while keeping enough back that they couldn’t escape their debt to him. Reciprocity was difficult because The System cared more about how much the individual valued something than any arbitrary value of a thing. It knew how much he valued his project and therefore its price would be exorbitant. The scales had to be balanced, lest he find himself indebted to these children.

  His calculations came to a quick conclusion. It was too soon. They were close, but not close enough. They weren’t desperate. Not yet, anyway. But, they would be soon – and that was the moment he would strike. With his plans satisfied, he returned to his prototype. He had enough time to create a second one. Freedom was so close, yet so far away, but the space between things had never been an issue for him. He would finally bridge that gap and break free of this cage.

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