Reeva and Boras waited for them by the first border home. Upon seeing them, Nerisity made a shuddering sigh. Reeva headed over and hugged her tightly. Reeva then hugged Arcos next.

  “We’re here for you guys,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Arcos replied, patting her back with his only hand. “It was—ahem—” Boras coughed to himself, feeling the levels of awkwardness anyone would at such a time. “It was a lovely service. Barnabas could make that a profession… Though it wouldn’t be a fun one, I suppose…”

  “We should thank Barnabas…” Nerisity whispered, her resolve on its last threads. “He was very gentle with…… with the baby.” Her eyes looked hollow.

  Arcos nodded, feeling his own grief clawing at his fractured resolve’s underbelly.

  The four moved as one towards Main Street, looking for Barnabas.

  But what they found was Torrance standing in the street, looking worried as he stared towards the entrance of the town, standing with Sibling Valari and the twins Vance and Custio.

  “Hey, Torrance,” Boras said. “Where’s Barnabas?”

  Torrance did not reply; he was too focused down the street.

  “Uh…” Boras looked to Vance, Custio, and Valari. “Hello? Anybody?”

  Valari replied. “We got something on the horizon. A dust cloud of some type.”

  Reeva frowned. “Dust cloud?”

  Valari rubbed her chin. “There’s no wind here. So the only other thing that can make that dust is people. A lot of them.”

  The four teenagers exchanged worried looks. Courageous growled, sensing the change in mood.

  Torrance spoke up without taking his eyes away from the countryside to the south. “Tilda hopped onto Gaxidon and rode off to scout it. She’ll be back soon.” Heavy hooves slapping the dry ground could be heard nearby. “Or she’s back now.”

  Tilda charged into the town, up the Main Street, at a full pace upon Gaxidon. Townsfolk stumbled out of the horse’s path as he charged up towards Torrance. Tilda leapt down, her black hair wild from the ride. Her eyes were wide with alertness.

  “There’s an army.” She snapped.

  “What?!” Torrance reacted sharply.

  “I count six battalions, at least four hundred soldiers strong. None of them are of the Fist. And there’s a carriage leading them. A Baron’s.”

  The report sent a shockwave of trepidation through the group. Terrified cries began to erupt from the people. Children ran to their parents. Men instinctively grabbed what could be counted as weapons.

  “They’re come to take us back!” Cried one woman.

  A man held her close and snarled. “Let them bloody try.”

  “We have to leave.” Vance snapped, already turning towards the mountains. “Right now.”

  “And what of the Silverstreakers?” Valari countered. “Half of them are sickened from travel and imprisonment, as are the other villagers we rescued. We can’t just leave them here to die.”

  Vance whipped around to her. “You expect us to hold back the power of a fully mustered army? We are only thirty, with a handful of decent fighters shared between mercenaries and criminals!”

  “All of this will have been for nothing if we run away like cowards!”

  “We are not ready for this fight, Valari!”

  Torrance snarled, shoving his body between the two squabblers before a fight broke out. “Enough! Even if you leave, you won’t get far. They’ll come for you next. Reports of our involvement no doubt reached the Barons’ ears. They know the Guild exists now, so to hells with your anonymity. We have no choice. We stay. Tilda, how long do we have?”

  “At the pace they were setting, three hours at most,” Tilda said grimly.

  Torrance grimly nodded. “Right. Assemble anyone able to carry weapons or wood. We need a barricade. Now!”

  ???

  Two hours and fifty minutes later, the barricade was complete. It was hastily constructed, with overturned carts and barrels stacked over one another. It was high enough to cover the heads of the tallest in the town, but not high enough to be managed defensibly. It spanned across the entirety of Main Street, from the wall of the right-sided home to the left. The other smaller avenues and alleys that connected to the countryside were quickly built up as well, but with only the short amount of time at hand, only the southern half of the town was walled in. Any soldier with half a brain could just rush quickly to the flanks to get in.

  The mood was fever pitch with fear and horror. The Silverstreakers rushed around, grabbing weapons for the able-bodied fighters. Hacker and the lesser able to fight like Nerisity were given the task to mobilise the sick and injured the furthest they could from the possible battle to come.

  They retreated towards the Northern quarter, and if needs called for it, up the mountain path that one of the Children would be willing to show. The Waywards and the Mercuries were volunteered as the rear guard, to ensure the town would not be flanked. Vanto led this part of the plan. It was clear to Vanto that if he and Sitra were to survive, they had decided this was the only way out. And if this did not go the way they planned, at least they had an exit strategy.

  The twenty-five Children clambered up onto the roof tops of the border houses, using them as the temporary battlements to watch out for the enemy. Whilst the fifty armed Silverstreakers led by Barnabas remained on the ground to guard the Main Street barricade.

  Arcos, armed with Eadala, stood on one such battlement with Reeva, Boras, and Torrance. Whilst Tilda and Valari stood with the twins Vance and Custio on another. Courageous paced and patrolled the ground area, slinking between the alleys and streets, sweeping his way through for any encroachers. When Arcos climbed up to get a good view of the incoming army, he wished he didn’t.

  Tilda was right.

  Six battalions of sixty soldiers were formed up outside the barricade, a hundred feet from the edge. They were in solid formation, armed in leather uniforms and wielding weapons of vicious nature. Some had swords, others had spears. Each had a banner to mark their group in distinct designs. And as Arcos realised, there were all uniquely dressed in their armours. One of the battalions did not even wear armour. They were in fact dressed in the same silks that he recalled Ashmak Hali, their dear Tashiishan friend, would wear.

  “Gods’ balls…” Torrance swore. “Look at them. That’s all six of the Mercenary Guilds in Fennaposia. The Diamond Rams, The Ironhands, Rattlesnakes, Silk Slayers, The Black Pit Pikes… Hells, the fucking Dune Wolves… What are they all doing here?”

  “And that’s unusual?” Reeva asked.

  “Some of these groups hate each other. They’ll fight one another just to have the right to take on a job. Just standing together like this without fighting… who the hells managed to bring them here?”

  Arcos scanned the amassed army. They were not getting into a position to launch an attack. They were holding their ground, waiting for something. Or someone.

  Then the army slowly parted, allowing a black-painted carriage drawn by two horses to ride through them, along the road until it stopped as it passed the first rank of mercenaries.

  “That may be the person who did all this.” Boras noted.

  The carriage was drawn by a woman, dressed in a travelling coat and cap. She hitched the reins to the driver’s seat before stepping down from the carriage. She was young, with a sharp jawline and sharper eyes. She stood by the door of the carriage, which bore a painted symbol of red lips.

  The driver opened the door and kicked out a series of small steps that unfolded down to the grass.

  A gloved hand reached out from within the shadows of the confines and a woman stepped slowly out from within. Her steel-grey hair was long but tied neatly into a bun with two golden rods to hold it in place. She wore a small pair of auburn sunglasses. Her fair face was aged, but tight across the bone. There was a vitality in her movement as she stepped onto the grass and gracefully moved towards the barricade. Some of the mercenaries and the driver made to step with her, but the woman held out her hand. They remained where they stood and she continued alone. As she stepped closer, slow step by slow step, Arcos was able to get a better look at her.

  She was dressed in a flowing emerald coat, its lengthy coattails draped behind her. Her knee-high black boots were strapped tightly with cord. The coat buttoned over a frocked white cotton dress that pressed flat against her chest, but hinted at a bosom that was once there in her youth. Like the driver, this woman wore white gloves that buttoned over the cuffs of her coat’s sleeves. A crimson silk cravat was wrapped around to cover her exposed neck from the elements.

  She stopped halfway between the mercenaries at her back and the town at her front. And she waited, silently and politely. She looked as if she could wait for the world to end and still remain patient.

  Looking down at this woman who looked up at them and studied both them and their barricade with a critical eye, Torrance growled under his breath. “Shit…”

  The three looked at him. “What is it?” Reeva asked with concern.

  “That’s Baroness Francisca.”

  They all stared at her. Francisca. The infamous Francisca. She was there. Staring up at them.

  “Of course it’s her.” Torrance sighed. “Only a few people have that swagger to pull all the mercs together like this. And it’s just for show. That is what I call a power play.”

  “Look at her.” Reeva noted towards the Baron who remained silent. “She’s not scared that she’s this close? I could throw a dagger at her right now.”

  “It’s best that you don’t.” Boras advised. “Obviously, she wants something, apart from our heads. Otherwise, we’d be really fucked.”

  “Don’t know what I prefer more, that or her just staring at us like that…”

  “Hey, she’s reaching for something!” Arcos said.

  They saw the Baroness reach into her coat, pull out a white handkerchief and wave it slowly back and forth. The symbol of parlay.

  “What the fuck…?” Boras breathed.

  She remained very calm as she opened her mouth and spoke loud and clear. Her voice’s accent dripped of wealth, education and superiority.

  “I wish to speak with the one known as… Arcos Blade.” She announced.

  Arcos could feel all the eyes in the town bear on him. He looked around at his friends. They could not say anything as they were just as perplexed as he was.

  “Um…” he said. “What do we do?”

  Torrance rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I suppose… you go see what she wants?”

  “Are you serious?” Reeva replied hotly. “Like hells he’s going out there on his own! Not a chance. They’ll attack him the second he steps out!”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Boras remarked. “They’ll attack us anyway.”

  Reeva spat. “Let them try.”

  “Guys.” Arcos spoke out, drawing their eyes. “I’ll go. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, I have you at my back. Let’s see what she has to say.”

  Reeva, Boras and Torrance looked at one another and Torrance spared a glance towards Tilda across the way. She upturned her hand and shrugged. It was Arcos's choice.

  Torrance sighed and patted Arcos on his shoulder. “I’ll get you a ladder.”

  Arcos climbed down the ladder propped down by Boras and Torrance whilst Reeva had one of Jimiza’s crossbows nocked and ready. Arcos landed on the dirt outside the blockade and walked towards the central part of the barricade where he could hear the concerned growls of Courageous from the inside.

  Arcos placed his hand on the wooden wall and spoke soft words to the Sarku. That placated the beast, who just growled quietly under his breath, but at a lower volume.

  Arcos turned and saw Baron Francisca waiting for him in the middle of the road. She had a stoic expression that betrayed no anxiety, fear or trepidation. She was cool and calm, even in the face of a potential threat to her safety. Her demeanour reminded Arcos of Elder Divana in that sense.

  Arcos walked steadily towards the Baroness, counting his steps. If he needed to run back to the wall in case this went badly, he preferred to be near enough to make it. At a good twenty paces, Arcos stopped, still leaving a ten paces of safe distance between himself and Francisca.

  Francisca raised a tidy, plucked eyebrow in his direction and smiled. “Wise. I would do the same.”

  Arcos said nothing. He only laid his hand on Eadala’s hilt and kept it there. If that motion bothered Francisca, it either did not or she chose to hide it. Instead, she nodded and spoke.

  “I take it that you are Arcos Blade, formerly slave 1002 of the Salt Pit?”

  She reached into her pocket, brought out a small green book and thumbed through the pages until she stopped and read from that page.

  “Mother died from pox, father sold you when you were nine or ten. Last year, you and slave 997 known as Torrance Carpenter (also known as the mercenary Four Claws of the Waywards), staged a breakout which led to the destabilising aftermath of the Salt Pit and the deaths of over a hundred slaves, sixty guards with another hundred more slaves who are currently on the run. Then, you end up in the epicentre of a revolt in this very town and the destruction of a fortress. And now here you stand.”

  “You’re informed.” Arcos replied coolly. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Some of my people encountered a family fleeing the city last night. A man, wife, and son. Darius Snowhair, a bodyhunter. You are familiar with him, I take it?”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Arcos nodded.

  She smiled briefly. “Good. He was familiar with you. Naturally, because of his profession, I had him placed under arrest. He shall be charged for the crimes committed in Markus's name-”

  “Hold on.” Arcos cut in. “What crimes? He’s a bodyhunter. They’re above the law.”

  “They used to be…” Francisca said with a hint of menace in her voice. “I shall explain that momentarily. Now, if I may finish… He told me about you, your friends, and what you did in the fortress and what happened in this town. From what he told me and what I know already, Markus was inherently vexed by your very existence. Someone who could get that man’s blood up is deserving of my attention. So yes, I know you very well. Now do you know me?”

  “Not a hard guess. Francisca.”

  “Baroness Francisca, but close enough.”

  Francisca snapped her fingers and there was a flurry of activity behind her.

  Arcos watched in disbelief as her driver and two footmen who seemed to have materialised from thin air carried over a small table with two chairs. The driver laid out a thin table cover and set to making two places at the table.

  “This will take just a moment,” Francisca added, raising a polite hand to him.

  Laying out a hamper basket, one footman opened it and pulled out a pair of teacups, tea saucers, spoons, a small milk jug, a sugar bowl, and a tin box of biscuits. The other footman appeared from behind the carriage, carrying over a tall cylinder, a strange metal canister with a metal stand propped over it. He knelt beside the other footman, pulled out a matchbox, struck a match, and set alight something within the metal canister. A series of small blue flames leapt up from the top, and the other footman placed a cast iron tea pot on the stand over the blue fire.

  They then poured in water from a clay jug and three spoonfuls of black tea leaves from a wooden box with a brass clasp. Once complete, the driver returned to the carriage and sat on the driver’s seat with a silent stare at Arcos. The footmen remained by the table.

  Arcos and Francisca watched this play out in the minutes it took to set it up. Francisca smiled with pleasure at the sight, especially at the tea being made.

  “I love freshly brewed tea,” she remarked with a smile. She then gestured to the table. “Let’s have a seat.” She set off towards the table and sat down, looking at Arcos with deep patience.

  Arcos rubbed his chest and sighed. He followed and sat down opposite her. He glanced at the footmen who stood close by.

  “No need to be concerned with them,” Francisca placated. “They are here for the tea, not for your head.”

  “That comment doesn’t make me feel any easier,”

  “A joke!” Francisca smiled. “I like to try to break the tension. Per my job as the diplomat of my organisation. Biscuit? The tea will take only a moment to brew; until then…”

  She reached over and lifted the tin box towards Arcos. He peeked in. They were maize-yellow shortbread biscuits, with sugar dusting. They did look nice, but… He eyed her with suspicion.

  She made a grin, set down the tin before him before plucking a biscuit out without looking and ate it without worry.

  She crunched the biscuits slowly, eyes unblinking towards Arcos. Once again, she gestured at the biscuits. Arcos finally reached over, took a biscuit, and ate it. It tasted good.

  “If I wished to poison you…” Francisca said. “I would not do so in full view of your friends’ nor in the range of Reeva Braider’s crossbow.”

  “Braider… You know us all then.”

  “There are a few gaps in the information that the Barons Vilx and Zult could gather regarding the mysterious figures over there.” She pointed towards Tilda’s group. “But enough to warrant a good enough impression on us.”

  “Right.”

  One of the footmen coughed. Francisca nodded. “Excellent timing.”

  The footman pulled on a pair of oven mitts before retrieving the teapot. The other footman placed a square wooden slab on the table for the teapot to be placed on. Then, after checking the inside with a spoon, the footman poured out a dark-brown liquid into Francisca’s cup. She watched this with excitement.

  The footman poured out Arcos the same. Francisca sipped the black tea. “Perfect as always, Gordon. And beautifully baked biscuits as ever, Pitcairn. Thank you.”

  Gordon, the footman, bowed his head, set down the teapot, and stepped back with the other placid footman, Pitcairn.

  “Milk and sugar?” Francisca said.

  “Black.” Arcos replied. Then he forced out a gritted “Thank you.”

  “I see… A salt of the earth type, I appreciate that.” Francisca reached for both sugar and milk. “I, on the other hand, am of a more delicate palate.” She splashed in some milk and stirred in one teaspoon of sugar. Stirring it gently, she regarded Arcos.

  “You are a lot younger than I had imagined you being. The reports I gathered were that you are an excellent fighter, savage, and dangerous. Your appearance seems to display that, what with the heterochromia in those odd eyes. Despite the hue of your hair, quite similar to mine… You just do not seem to have even passed your twentieth year.”

  “I had to do a lot of growing up.”

  “I can imagine.” Francisca finished stirring and sipped her tea. “Ah… Very good. Try it.”

  Arcos reached out for his tea and drank it. It was floral and filled with a sweet undertone beneath the tannin of the leaf. “It’s nice.” He admitted.

  “Quite so. Baron Grey tea. Farmed from a stretch of islands towards the East, but still within the reach of our merchant shipping lanes and away from those treacherous currents. Hints of the bergamot allow for that sweet flavour. Baron Secra is the one responsible for crafting this delectable infusion. I like it sweeter, hence the sugar.”

  She sipped the tea to its completion, then called over Gordon to refill her cup with more fresh tea. Arcos did not finish his. He was not that thirsty as his nerves ruined his appetite.

  Francisca finished adding her usual dose of saccharine before pointing at Silverstreak with her spoon with a haphazard wave.

  “I warned him, you know. I warned Malachi about this. Malachi’s management of this town left much to be desired. He is a good earner, good at managing the numbers for the banks and the funds for Baron Fosto’s war chest… But being a town’s governor, it seemed to be beyond him. A child could have run it better than he… It was only a matter of time before someone did something about it, I suppose. Though, I certainly did not expect it to be so… violent. And after that… well, I warned Markus that this would occur. I told him to let go of the vengeance, let bygones be bygones. Losses can be regained. Emotions are bad for business. If he retaliated, that would only lead to more problems, more losses, and time wasted. But he did not listen. He retaliated. Then you did. And we are all where our choices brought us. You and I sipping tea whilst Markus’s fortress burns to the ground…” She sipped her tea. “Is Markus dead?”

  “Yes. Markus, Hildur, the Bodyhunters stationed there, and the Fist he commanded. They’re all gone. All of them are burnt to ash within that fucking place…”

  She smiled coldly at that. “Well… I told him that he would end up regretting it. I mean it in the figurative sense. But you and your compatriots made that into a startling reality. Certainly impressed me.”

  “We aim to impress…”

  “Good. May I also inquire about something else that occurred last night?” Francisca leant back in her chair. “There were sightings of some strange lights and explosions by the Salt Pit. Witnesses swore they saw a Sarku fighting a glowing figure in the sky. The clouds were split, and the moon shone too brightly for this time in the month. It was stranger still when Lawgivers rode out to investigate it. They arrived to find a massive ravine that had torn through the Salt Pit. They assured me that that was not there the previous afternoon… I would like to ask if you had something to do with that.”

  Arcos shrugged, whilst keeping his face as neutral as possible. “No clue. We weren’t in that area; the Fortress was towards the North, not the South.”

  Francisca remained quiet for a moment before smiling and waving her hand. “Of course you weren’t. My mistake. Forgive an old woman for her curiosity about rumours. I do enjoy them; they make for marvellous stories to tell at balls and dinners. Back to the main matter, I’ll have to dissolve the Bodyhunters personally, now with Malachi crippled and demoted and Markus permanently out of the picture. You have a talent for murder, Master Blade. It is a skill worth honing. I salute you on your savagery.”

  She raised her cup to him. He did not respond in kind.

  “I’d prefer you didn’t. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “And modest too? My my… you are the full package. I insist on my salute.”

  Francisca raised her cup to him again before sipping it.

  Arcos did not raise his cup for the second time. He leant on the table, fist clenched. “Tell me why you arrested Darius Snowhair. How could you even arrest him?”

  Francisca peered at Arcos over the rim of her cup, her sunglasses covering her eyes enough to hide her intent.

  “I intend to outlaw slavery in Dargania. Absolutely and immediately.” She said matter-of-factly as she settled her cup into its saucer.

  Arcos leant back, eyes widened. “What?” He must not have heard her correctly.

  Francisca must have read his mind or his face, for she smiled at his stunned expression.

  “You heard correctly. In case you were not aware of it, we have been experiencing a flurry of rebellious activity in the South. Naturally, we Barons had to contend with this sort of misbehaviour. We have been for the last seventeen years. Royalists are a dying breed, but they die hard and with the stubbornness to rival that of an ox. We had an easy hand on it. But your actions spurred them on, inspired them. Your actions this last year have proven to the rebels that the Oligarchy is vulnerable, a fact that we worked hard to expunge. We must regain the trust of the people.

  So, in order to quell the malcontents amongst the people before they are indoctrinated into the Royalist cause, we intend to free all the slaves within the reach of our rule. Every single slave, chained and escaped alike, will be granted their freedom within this very month and be allowed to return home. To ensure this to be the case, every single guard who worked in these slave enclosures or had worked there shall be summarily brought in, questioned and punished in accordance with the law.”

  She curled her lips in great disgust.

  “I have received plenty of disturbing reports on the mistreatment of slaves, especially those of the women kept there… Rest assured, those who had a hand in that shall be viciously reprimanded. Bodyhunters are not exempt from this, they will be executed swiftly upon capture. Without trial. Do you approve of this decision?”

  “Do I… approve? I- I…” Arcos replied, shocked by the head-spinning news. “I don’t know what to say… I mean… you’re going to free… every single one of them?”

  “I just said that, did I not?”

  “You’re going to lose a lot of money.”

  Francisca smirked. “Dearest Blade, do we look like we need the money?”

  “…You have a point. I guess I should be thanking you or something…”

  Francisca waved her hand dismissively. “I do not require nor ask for your gratitude. I am simply explaining what is going to happen.”

  “And what is going to happen? To me? And my friends?”

  Francisca ran her gloved finger over the rim of her cup, pursing her lips and allowing the silence to stretch between her and Arcos. Arcos felt twitchy. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Reeva and Boras, Torrance and Tilda… They were silent and waiting.

  Francisca answered, snapping his attention back to her. “As you can imagine, the Oligarchy wants you dead. You, your friends, and anyone else that had a hand in this affair.”

  Arcos swallowed his worry and set his jaw. “What happened here was between us and Markus.”

  She raised a hand apologetically.

  “Oh, I understand, my boy, that is very fair. But you must see it from my point of view. Markus and Malachi, powerful men who had everything at their disposal, lost all of their wealth, influence, and manpower in a matter of months from complete strangers. In the eyes of the world, you are the dregs of society. Slaves, immigrants, and murderers… The other Barons, they are a paranoid group. If this could happen to those two, it could happen to them as well. They fear what they do not know. Namely, your group and those of your organisation that clearly trained you. No one has such skill in warfare for no reason. As such, they want you killed. But I explained that that would be very foolish. We do not want a war with a clan that even its youngest members could wreak such havoc. We Barons enjoy the peace we have worked tirelessly to create. There must be balance.”

  Arcos couldn’t help himself but smirk. “That’s the main creed of my people.”

  Francisca laughed warmly. “Hah! More alike than you are willing to admit, then? I am very curious indeed by the existence of your people… I wonder if you and your organisation would consider lending your strength to our cause. But that would be asking too much, I fear.”

  Arcos nodded. “It would, dearly.” He sighed through his nose and then followed up with, “So why are you here then? To see if we’re a threat?”

  Francisca stopped smiling and became coldly serious.

  “No. Nothing that blatant. I am here to send you an olive branch. An offer of peace. You did what you needed to do. Killed who needed to be killed. But now? That is that. This little feud you had declared upon us? It ends right here and now.”

  Arcos looked at Francisca for a moment, then turned in his chair towards the east and pointed beyond the town.

  “Over there is a cherry tree… There’s a grave at its roots. Derrick Lawgiver is buried there. A good man, a decent man. When Markus came riding through, he lynched Derrick first before slaughtering a third of the town. Stretching his neck so badly, it’s a wonder that he wasn’t decapitated.” Arcos started to gently sob under his breath as he fought to speak.

  “Nearby the cherry tree… there is a pyre. A small one. Because a baby was burned there. I was involved with a girl, a girl I care for very deeply. She was pregnant with my child… When I came to save her, and I did, I found out that Markus made sure to kill our baby…”

  Arcos turned to face Francisca with his eyes sharp. “This little feud did not start with me. But I was more than happy to carry it out and finish it to its fucking end…”

  Francisca showed little to no reaction in her face at the horrific revelation. She only reached for her tea and drank the rest of it in a single gulp. She placed the cup back down, wiped her lips with her thumb, and stared back at Arcos calmly.

  “How many more dead babies and murdered Lawgivers will it take to reach a peaceful agreement?” She asked.

  “And how many Barons dying will it take for you twisted bastards to realise that the Silverstreakers want to be left alone?” He shot back.

  Francisca rubbed her chin. “That can be possible. Yes, I believe we can come to such an agreement. What do you want for this place?”

  “I want Silverstreak to be left to its own devices. We were happy here before Markus came.”

  “I see… Well, there is something that I would like to be guaranteed.”

  “Which is?”

  “This is a mining town, a bountiful one. We have other mines for copper, gold, and jewels. But Silverstreak was given its name due to its vast wells of silver ore. We require this monetary tithe to keep the economy of this country above the breaking line. These last few months have seen a steady decline in the markets, which will affect you in turn before affecting us. Do you see where I am going with this?”

  “Perhaps… Silverstreak pays for its independence?”

  “Quite to the point, but accurate. You may choose custodians to run the town, even yourselves. Silverstreak will act independently from Baron law. A city-state, if you would.”

  “That’s good.”

  “As long as you and your strange clan remain out of our way and our ruling… then we shall forget you even existed. You have my word.” Francisca leant on the table and steepled her fingers.

  “To be frank with you, dear, I do not care what you do with this place. Build another Night Tavern, create Violet Leaf hookah dens, make weapons, or form a seventh mercenary guild. It makes no difference to me. What matters is the silver.

  The silver flows to this country, no matter what. Consider it a tax, to maintain the sovereignty of this town. But that is all. This town is still to remain in the Oligarchy’s rule, but in the grander scheme. The smaller minutia: taxes, laws, military presence, that will be to the Silverstreakers’ discretion. … Silverstreakers… I like that denomination.”

  Arcos nodded and stood up. “Agreed.”

  Francisca rose to her feet and offered her right hand so she could shake his left. Arcos regarded it for a moment and then he finally shook her hand. She smiled. He half-smiled back.

  “Excellent.” She said. “It pleases me that you are not without reason. Most warriors tend to be more muscles than brains…”

  Arcos snorted derisively. A few days ago, he would have fitted her assumption.

  They stepped away from the table and the footmen instantly rushed in to clear away the table and the contents on top of it.

  Francisca walked with Arcos towards the barricade. She stopped halfway, almost exactly where she once stood before. Arcos turned and faced her, his hand no longer on Eadala’s hilt.

  “Thank you for the tea.” He said.

  “Thank you for listening.” She replied coolly. “It was a pleasure to share a delight of mine.”

  “Before you leave,” Arcos spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I have a request.”

  Francisca put her hands behind her back and looked to him with an expectant stare. “Yes?”

  “Set Darius free. See to his family’s well-being and allow them to leave, so they can live their lives in peace. They deserve it.”

  Francisca raised her eyebrow, betraying her thoughts for the first time since their conversation started. She was surprised, a rare feeling to have. “Despite him being a Bodyhunter? The very thing that you, of all people, would stand against?”

  Arcos gritted his teeth. He rubbed his chest. He rubbed his leg.

  “Recently, I committed some acts… I did them because I believed that I was doing them for love. For people I care for. And I kept on justifying it, over and over and over again… But now, looking back on it, I was becoming the very thing I grew to hate. And it nearly cost me… everything. It made me realise that Darius and I… we got given shitty starts in life… yet he was able to make a life with someone he loved and have a kid that he was absolutely willing to die for. In that moment, he was a stronger and better person than I was. He’s a father. A husband. A human being. He’s entitled to all the rights that implies, despite what he had to do to survive.”

  Francisca regarded Arcos with a smile that widened across her face.

  And on top of the barricade, within earshot of her student’s words, Tilda smiled deeply.

  The Baroness laughed. “Well, well, well… after such words… how could I ever deny that? I shall see it done. At least some people get to have a happy ending. Farewell, Arcos Blade. I do hope that this is the last time you and I meet under such circumstances.”

  Arcos nodded and Francisca turned on her heel and walked with a stride towards her waiting carriage. But before she reached it, she paused. She turned her head towards the east, towards the area where Arcos had pointed out the pyre.

  Arcos was a little too far to see her expression clearly, but he was certain that he could hear her shoulders shudder, a shudder that could only be connected to weeping.

  Francisca turned around and looked at Arcos, her face calm but her eyes hinting at a slight tinge of sadness.

  “It may not matter coming from me, Arcos, but I would like to give my condolences to you and your woman. Trust me when I tell you… No parent should witness their child die. You both deserved better. Maybe in the future, you will…”

  And with that, Francisca stepped back into the carriage. Her driver folded the steps, closed the door, and set off the carriage. The mercenary battalions turned and marched with her carriage away from the town, leaving the watching defenders in a tentative peace.

  Arcos watched them leave. Nodding, he turned and reached for the ladder. As he did, he smirked in response to a comment Boras made which voiced all of the minds of those who witnessed the negotiation. “Okay…… What the fuck just happened??”

  ???

  Baron Francisca had her window open so she could lean on the window sill, rest her chin on her hand, and enjoy the cool afternoon air. She observed the green fields of this new day. The first spring month had begun with full vigour, as Secra predicted as always. She sighed with contentedness. Such lovely skies, she wished she could be a bird to truly enjoy them.

  “A successful day, ma’am.” Eva, serving as her driver, said loudly enough so she could be heard. “Indeed, Eva. Indeed. What do you make of him, that boy?”

  “Blade? Well, he’s young. Impressionable. Strong. But easily controlled by his emotions. That can be useful.”

  “Certainly. But one does not always use a wolf for the hunt. A wolf is still a wolf; they will eventually bite back. No, we shall keep our distance as part of our new treaty. We will keep a keen eye upon them. And if the day comes that their strength will aid us… we will exploit the means to secure it. Bring me to Barons Vilx and Zult, I want to know everything there is to know about this mysterious warrior clan in the mountains.”

  “Very good, ma’am.”

  Francisca leant back into her sofa and smiled happily. A new era was upon them.

  And this time - without fools like Markus and Malachi - Francisca will finally be the one to shape it to her own glorious designs.