Several hours later, only Grayskin remains in the room. He watches with impassive eyes as Earl sets a small table in front of him. A dark dining cloth is draped over the surface, smoothing into deep folds that catch the candlelight. One by one, dishes are laid down, their lids releasing tendrils of steam that curl upward, filling the room with rich, mouth-watering smells—roasted meat spiced with herbs, buttery bread still warm from the oven, and a stew fragrant with earthy mushrooms. Finally, two bottles are placed in the middle of the table, wine and shroom juice, along with a single glass.

  “As promised, your reward for cooperation. Earl, untie the man.”

  My steward produces a small blade from somewhere and expertly slices through the bindings at the hunter’s wrists and ankles. Grayskin flexes his hands, rubbing his wrists where the skin is raw. He gives the boy a long, considering look, but he doesn’t move to retaliate. Wise of him. With his mana core drained from last night’s fighting, I have no doubt the teenager would wipe the floor with him.

  “While you eat a meal kings couldn’t afford, think very hard about the future of the hunters. That would be me, if you don’t realize it. Work with me and you’ll be around to support future hunters. Don’t and…don’t. You’re reasonable, so I’ll let you go either way, but you won’t get another chance like this.”

  “What happened to the others?” he asked, predictably.

  “Sin will be turned over to the royal knights.” I was just going to pass him along to Gajin to be turned into fertilizer, but it occurred to me that I might have hurt feelings there. Their reputation has taken a hit. Letting them present the leader of the rebels should smooth a lot of ruffled feathers.

  “As for Jacoby…” How to put this? “He’s lost the will to live.”

  “Explain.”

  “There’s nothing more to explain. When it was his time to be questioned, he tried to kill himself. I couldn’t allow that. Ironically, being saved seems to have destroyed his will to live.”

  “I see. If it is no trouble, I would ask that you release him into my custody.”

  “You want me to release a master caster with hostile intentions?”

  “He’s no threat to you.”

  “But he’s a threat to the city. I wouldn’t put it past him to go after innocents if he thinks it will get back to me. I wouldn’t put it past anyone.”

  “I will not let him hurt innocents.”

  Coming from him, that’s pretty persuasive. “One condition. Well, two. You join the CFQ, a group of hunters within the camp that are advocating for the city. I want you to be their liaison with the traditionalists and whatever remains of the rebels. Go out there and save souls. And once you do, I want you to pick the best of them and form a new society. A cabal that will do the opposite of the your vaunted tradtions.

  “Most of the Authority has degraded into uselessness. I want the material, but as for the broken enchantments? Those, I don’t mind sharing. You, Grayskin, are going to lead the group that reclaims our history and uses the Authority as it was meant to be used, before it becomes truly useless.”

  “That is…generous,” he says after mulling it over. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re a decent man and you’re right in front of me. Is there someone out there better suited for the job? Maybe. Probably. And if you really think that, find them and make them your assistant. It’s your job because I’m reasonably certain I can trust you to do it, and I don’t want to be bothered. And if you don’t do it?”

  I shrug. “I don’t lose anything. You’d only be screwing yourselves, again.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Looking at his frown, I can imagine his frustration. This is a powerful man by the kingdom’s standards. An accomplished and respected man; when everything went to the Abyss, he was one of the leaders the people turned to. Yet, here he sits powerless. I know how that feels; it’s not fun.

  It makes his calm as he takes up a fork and knife even more admirable. The silverware glints as he cuts into the meat, movements deliberate, almost ritualistic, as though by eating he’s reclaiming a measure of dignity.

  “Thank you, Lady Tome. I would like some time to consider.”

  “Of course. You’ll be released in the morning. I expect your answer then.”

  My terms delivered, I leave the man in peace he won’t have for long. There is a whole lot of chaos waiting outside the walls of the estate, and it’s eager to latch onto anyone that wanders too close.

  The fighting didn’t go unnoticed. Geneva went out into the city to inspect the damage and make sure the traditionalists were blaming the rebels; she found cowering survivors that had an interesting story to tell. Like malevolent specters drawn to fields of death, the fighting summoned the royal knights. They were hungry for blood and they didn’t take time to distinguish what bodies it came from. They crashed into the exhausted fighters like a natural disaster, decimating both sides. All for naught; they made no secret that they were searching for the leader of the rebels, who had already been spirited away.

  Their latest struggle surely spells the end for the remnants of the guilds. Combined with the CFQ, who seem determined to exact their revenge on whatever remains, the future looks bleak. Grayskin is going to need more than a good night’s sleep to change that. Here’s hoping he’s up to the task and he doesn’t make things harder on himself by ignoring me.

  Earl intercepts me as I’m leaving the “guest wing,” the steward falling in step as I head for the dining room. “My lady, you’ve received several missives.”

  “Several?” I question, holding out my hand. My brows furrow as he places a stack of envelopes on my palm. I was expecting one or two, not five. Sigh. This is why I’m not interested in being in charge.

  Earl, the blessed boy, doesn’t need to be told to fetch me a drink as I sit at the head of the dining table, the first to arrive. He’s filling my glass as I open the most relevant of the missives; it’s not a missive at all, but the promised list from Leena along with an attached note, a very suggestive invitation to dinner with the elder Guiness sister. As always, the woman’s boldness knows no censor. More importantly, she’s as knowledgeable as I suspect. She has my list, and jotted next to each name is their industry and position; it makes for a very neat guide to the notable figures still in the city.

  I’m only interested in a few: the merchants and the administrators. As suspected, there are quite a few sheltering under the wide wings of the Golden Family. They’ll be instrumental in getting the city running. I just need to make sure they’re on board with the new way of doing things. It’s not that different from the old way; they just have to do their jobs without abusing their power or facilitating corruption. A small difference I foresee causing big problems, but these types are well-versed in following the lead of the strong. I expect after the first half a dozen are made examples of, they’ll fall in line…hopefully.

  This city has literal traditions of incompetency.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Boring stuff,” I tell the saint leaning over my shoulder. I turn to kiss her cheek and she actually manages to avoid me. I wasn’t going my top speed, but that’s impressive…but did she have to dodge?

  My pout makes her sigh and she begrudgingly steps back into range. I steal her lips with a smile. “It’s a list of my future lackeys.”

  “Hm.” Her tone communicates exactly how uninterested she is in city management.

  “How do you plan to be a duchess if you don’t pay attention to this stuff?”

  “I only wanted the title, not the headaches. Besides, Victory is different. It’s not running a city, it’s managing an army. Keep people warm, fed, and sheltered until it’s time to march.”

  “…no offense, but the north is insane.”

  “It is. Is that all business?”

  “Mostly.” I raise a plain envelope with my name written in very nice lettering on the front. “From the CFQ’s best scribe. Really, they should open a school once the city is back on its feet.” I raise another plain envelope with simple, blocky lettering. “From the Temple. This should just be notice of when they’re showing up.” Which is nice. I expected them to appear at the door one day with big smiles and empty bellies.

  The third envelope is the nicest of the bunch, smooth to the touch and sealed with wax. “No idea who this is from, but there aren’t that many important people around. My money’s on someone from the Hall.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Ah, but not the most interesting.” I hold up the last envelope, a simple thing made more important by the stamped crest on its back and the perfume sprayed on its front. “Behold. A letter from the Tome clan.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Is it sad that the first thing you think when I say my family is contacting me is trouble?” I sigh. “But yes, it definitely is. There’s only one person who’d bother being so pompous. Guess Uncle Jackal heard about my promotion.”