Chapter 803: Loyalty to the Heirs (Patreon)

Maeve guided her strider across the desert, keeping the lower half of her face covered against the windblown sand. The Emerald Cloaks had been hired for a simple job: guide Lord Moon across the desert and keep him safe. She already knew the second part was unnecessary.

The sandstorm came without warning, swallowing the horizon in a choking curtain of golden dust. The Emerald Cloaks tightened their formation and pushed through.

“Stay close, my lord,” John called over the wind. “Visibility’s about to get worse.”

Lord Moon gave a short nod and kept riding. By the time the wind finally eased, a colossal shape had emerged between the dunes.

“We’re here,” Dorothea announced. “That’s Orsten.”

The city was surrounded by an enormous circular wall built of yellowish stone nearly the same color as the desert. From a distance, Orsten almost blended into the landscape, but there was no hiding something that massive. It was one of the largest Free Cities on the continent.

“So the Trade Federation is based somewhere this beautiful,” Lord Moon remarked.

He turned in the saddle and looked out over the dunes stretching toward the horizon.

“Strange to think there’s a desert region this close to us.”

Maeve glanced at him. During the journey, one thing had become obvious: Lord Moon wasn’t from Rosemark. He probably hadn’t grown up anywhere near the Five Crowns. He barely knew anything about the region, and it showed. Maeve figured he had to be from the other half of the continent.

They entered Orsten after passing inspection at the gates and renting stalls for their mounts.

“Two silver a day per mount?” John complained. “Last time it was one and a half.”

The stablehand took the strider’s reins. “Last time the reservoirs were full.”

John grimaced. “Again?”

“The wells are running low early this year.”

“Wonderful.”

Dorothea folded her arms. “We’re getting a gold coin for an easy job and you’re still complaining? Besides, the lord is covering all our expenses.”

“Someone else paying doesn’t make it any less of a rip-off.”

Lord Moon glanced toward the massive stone reservoirs behind the stable but said nothing. Once they regrouped, they led him through the city streets. Even with his face hidden behind the mask, his curiosity was obvious.

Maeve still found the idea of guarding him strange.

“I’ll deliver the letter to the Trade Guild,” John said. “I’ll catch up with you.”

A letter from the Trade Federation had arrived in Nyvma inviting Lord Moon to Orsten. John only needed to let them know their guest had finally reached the city. As they moved through the crowded streets, Lord Moon took in ornate stone buildings, colorful tents, merchants selling spices, and women dressed in thin, flowing fabric dancing on raised platforms.

“It’s like ancient Persia and India got mashed together,” he commented.

Maeve frowned. What is he talking about?

Farther ahead, Lord Moon stopped to watch a musician playing a flute while a snake rose from a basket. John caught up with them soon afterward.

“It’s completely different from Rosemark,” Lord Moon said.

“They take their traditions seriously here,” John replied. “Most people in Orsten have darker skin than you usually see in Rosemark. The locals are known for their beauty, too, especially the women.”

After checking into a good inn, the Emerald Cloaks took Lord Moon to a nearby restaurant for lunch. Maeve remained standing beside the table. Sitting down while she was on duty never even crossed her mind.

“Orsten is famous for its spices,” John explained between bites. “Rosemark nobles pay good money for them. But there’s something else the city is very well known for...”

“And what would that be?” Lord Moon asked.

“Brothels. They say the dancers here can make a man forget his own name in minutes.”

Maeve coughed, then quickly straightened again. She’d seen this plenty of times while escorting nobles. Take a man somewhere unfamiliar and sooner or later he’d start asking about the local women. A few had even quietly asked John if Maeve herself was for sale for the night.

“Not interested,” Lord Moon replied. “Know anywhere with beautiful gardens?”

“Gardens...?” John repeated, confused. “You mean some kind of—”

“I mean plants,” Lord Moon cut in before he could say something stupid.

“Oh.” John thought for a moment. “A few of the wealthiest merchants have gardens on their estates.”

“Only there?”

“Pretty much. Keeping a garden alive out here costs a fortune. There’s not exactly a lot of water to go around.”

Lord Moon glanced toward a row of nearby houses, where most of the decorative pots on the windowsills held small plants with thick leaves or thorns. “Then there should be some interesting species around here, too.”

John tilted his head. “Interesting?”

“Plants that can survive in this climate on almost no water.” Lord Moon stepped closer to one of the pots and studied it. “I’d like to see some.”

Maeve had stopped trying to guess what interested that man. Somehow, plants made more sense than brothels.

Near sunset, the group crossed a plaza where several orcs stood chained in place. None of them had intact tusks anymore. Their bodies bore marks of abuse, and passersby often threw stones at them. One sat with his back against a post, staring at the people passing by through one swollen eye.

“After all the damage those creatures have been causing, this is the least they deserve,” John said, spitting on the ground. “They should be wiped out.”

“All orcs?” Lord Moon asked.

“All of them,” Dorothea replied without hesitation.

“Females, the elderly, even children?”

John hesitated and glanced at Dorothea, but she said nothing. “I don’t know how to answer that, my lord. But I suppose all of them. We don’t spare vicious beasts just because they’re young or old, do we?”

Lord Moon looked back at the prisoners. “You have a point.”

Maeve watched him for a moment. With the mask hiding his face, she had no idea whether he agreed with John or was just going along with it.

That night, John and Dorothea gathered in Maeve’s room.

The moment he walked in, John threw himself onto the bed. “I think I’m screwing this up.”

Maeve stared at him. That’s my bed...

“Why?”

“He wasn’t interested in anything I suggested. Massage houses, bathhouses, brothels... nothing.”

“All of your recommendations are indecent.”

“That’s what usually works on nobles. You think I enjoy escorting them to brothels?”

Dorothea raised an eyebrow.

John sighed. “Fine. I’m... comfortable in places like that. But I’m still a guard. I have to stay alert.”

“Right,” Dorothea said dryly. “Very alert. Especially to the naked women.”

The next day, they were escorted to a coliseum, where Lord Moon had been invited to watch the games. The crowd roared while an orc in the arena was forced to fight beasts.

In the highest private box sat three of the most powerful figures in the Trade Federation. Bahram Zafran had made his fortune in spices, and his enormous belly made him hard to miss. Beside him sat Samira Nahir, the Lady of Veils, who owned brothels and dance houses and seemed to know everyone’s secrets. Rashid Kassar was less flashy, but his contracts kept mercenary companies armed, paid, and marching across half the desert.

After the fight, Lord Moon was escorted to a private area. Servants fanned the room with enormous leaves while women carried trays piled with grapes, dates, and other fruit. At the center, seated in chairs probably worth more than Maeve had saved in her entire life, were the Lords of Orsten.

All three rose to greet him. Maeve stayed a step behind him, watching the guards. Some carried scimitars, others spears. They were experienced warriors, probably among the finest fighters in the desert.

“You have a beautiful city,” Lord Moon said.

“And the most beautiful women,” Samira added. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Every woman is beautiful if a man knows how to appreciate her.”

Samira smiled beneath her veil. “Pretty words, Lord Moon. I still believe Orsten has the best.”

Lady Samira was stunning. Worse, she seemed perfectly aware of it. The thin, flowing clothes she wore drew attention to her dark skin and generous curves, and standing beside her made Maeve feel small despite herself.

Bahram rested both hands on his enormous belly. “How do we know you’re truly Lord Moon and not some subordinate sent in your place?”

The next instant, every soldier and servant collapsed to the floor. Maeve’s hand snapped toward her weapon as the warriors stared at Lord Moon with wide eyes. One rolled onto his side and vomited. Then she noticed John and Dorothea were still standing beside her. Whatever Lord Moon had done, he’d left the Emerald Cloaks untouched.

“I believe that should be enough,” Lord Moon said. “Don’t you?”

Bahram grinned. “Extraordinary. I suppose that settles it.”

Rashid looked at the fallen soldiers with disgust. “A warrior who cannot stay on his feet with a sword in his hand is a disappointment.”

Samira said nothing, watching him closely. A moment later, the soldiers staggered back to their feet and returned to their posts.

Lord Moon reached for his mask. “I suppose there’s no longer any need for this.”

He removed the mask. Samira’s eyes narrowed slightly, Bahram blinked, and Rashid showed nothing.

“I admit, I expected someone different,” Samira said.

“Taller?”

“Older.”

Maeve had too. She’d pictured scars and a permanent scowl, not someone who looked this young. His face was far less intimidating than she’d imagined, though the sharpness in his eyes felt more familiar.

Three hundred, maybe?

Bahram laughed. “I thought you’d look more frightening.”

Lord Moon glanced toward the soldiers still trying to recover. “I can put the mask back on.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bahram replied.

“You don’t look Rosemarkian either,” Samira said.

“That’s because I’m not. I belong to none of the Five Crowns. I’m a Lost Stranger.”

So the rumors were right about that, at least.

“At this point, that’s hardly a secret,” Rashid said.

“I figured as much. I assume you knew before you invited me.”

“Of course we knew,” Samira replied.

“If you were a Rosemark noble, this meeting probably wouldn’t be happening,” Bahram said.

“Nor if you were from Solvar,” Rashid added.

“Or any of the Five Crowns,” Samira said. “We don’t usually welcome their people into our home quite so warmly.”

“So being a Lost Stranger finally has its advantages.”

“The Lost Stranger who showed up in Farmarug and made those Alliance peacocks look like fools,” Bahram said.

“I was busy stopping an orc invasion.”

“And somehow you managed both.”

Lord Moon looked between the three of them. “You hear a lot.”

“Information is a commodity too, Lord Moon,” Samira replied.

“I hope mine is selling well.”

“So far.”

They talked for a while longer before Lord Moon looked out over the city. “I have to admit, Orsten has impressed me.”

Bahram spread his arms. “As it should.”

“It’s huge, rich, well defended. The three of you could crown yourselves tomorrow and declare Orsten a kingdom. I doubt anyone would dare laugh.”

Rashid’s expression hardened. “Don’t call us kings.”

Samira let out a soft laugh. “We do not kneel before kings.”

“And we didn’t cross the desert to start kneeling now,” Rashid added.

“Don’t take it personally, Your Majesty,” Bahram said.

“I’ll try to recover from the insult.”

Centuries ago, when the kingdoms expanded their borders, some tribes accepted the authority of the crowns while others refused. In Rosemark, people said those tribes had left. In Orsten, they used a different word: expelled. Samira’s grandmother had come from one of the tribes that refused.

Lord Moon let the subject drop. “Did you enjoy the basket I sent? The fruit, vegetables, greens, and wine? I hope you didn’t think they were poisoned.”

“Please,” Samira said. “If simple poison could kill us, we’d be in the wrong business.”

Bahram picked up another grape. “The fruit tasted... different.”

“The wine was acceptable,” Rashid said. “Not to my taste. And the fruit was too sweet. Almost cloying.”

Lord Moon laughed. “You’re excellent negotiators, but you can be honest with me. I’d bet that was the best fruit you’ve ever eaten and the best wine you’ve ever tasted.”

Samira tilted her head slightly. “The wine was very good. How long had it been aged? Whoever made it had an excellent sense of balance. It paired well with everything I tried.”

“I helped her make it. She’d never made wine before. That was her first batch.”

Bahram lowered the grape in his hand. “Her first?”

“Her first.”

“Impossible. No novice could produce wine of that quality.”

Lord Moon smiled. “When you have the best ingredients, you get the best results. And I have the best ingredients.”

Maeve watched the three merchants. They were no longer tasting his food. They were pricing it.

“You can keep pretending the fruit and wine were nothing special,” Lord Moon continued, “but you’re merchants. You know what they’re worth.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Most people look at an apple and see an apple. You see pies, juice, candy. You look at grapes and see wine. You know how to turn food into gold.”

Bahram stopped chewing. For a moment, none of the three spoke.

“And I’m willing to partner with you,” Lord Moon said.

“Partners?” Bahram repeated.

“You can distribute my goods across the Free Cities.”

“Lord Moon, perhaps you’ve misunderstood the purpose of this meeting,” Samira said. “We invited you here to discuss military matters. More specifically, the problem involving the Orc Lord.”

“We can do both. You wanted to know my price. I’m giving it to you.”

The bargaining lasted much longer than Maeve expected.

“Exclusive rights in Orsten,” Samira said.

“No.”

Her smile thinned. Bahram wanted better margins, while Rashid wanted guarantees that military shipments would take priority if supplies ever ran short. Lord Moon refused those too.

Then Lord Moon began making concessions elsewhere, never enough to give them what they wanted, but enough to keep them talking. Jokes turned into jabs, and jabs turned into numbers.

Samira kept coming back to wines, incense, and perfumes. Bahram cared more about margins and wealthy buyers. Rashid barely mentioned luxury at all; he wanted to know what could be produced cheaply enough to feed thousands. None of them got everything they wanted, but in the end they shook hands and sealed the deal.

Samira leaned back in her seat. “Now, allow me one question, Lord Moon. Why the mask?”

“For the same reason you wear so little clothing.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“To draw attention.”

Lord Moon put the mask back on and left the box.

***

“So every woman is beautiful if a man knows how to appreciate her?” Artemis asked inside Luke’s head.

What did you want me to say?

“Why, yes, Lady Hot Stuff. The women here are magnificent Amazons, and naturally I’d be delighted to visit your brothel and sleep with whichever one I choose,” Artemis replied in an absurdly solemn voice.

Luke ignored her as he crossed the plaza, his gaze returning to the chained orcs. He’d learned they’d been there for some time, given only enough food to stay alive.

John hurried toward him with an excited grin. “My lord, I found something special. An invite to an underground fighting ring. They make half-beast slaves fight each other. Supposedly it’s brutal. No rules.”

“Not interested. I’m going back to the inn.”

John’s face fell.

Luke did go back to the inn, just not for long. Sometime after midnight, he slipped outside and dissolved into shadow. Orsten was still very much alive, with merchants serving customers, taverns open, and music drifting through the streets.

Luke emerged from the shadow of a pillar behind the one-eyed orc. People passed nearby, but [Advanced Shadow Stealth] kept him hidden as he pressed his blade against the prisoner’s throat.

“I could end your suffering right now. What do you think?”

The orc flinched but remained still. “Human, do not think I fear death.”

“I could also cut you loose. Whether I do depends on how useful you are.”

The prisoner yanked at his chains, but they held. “I have been threatened, tortured, and mutilated. I will tell you nothing.”

“I already know what little you told them. You serve the Orc Lord, don’t you?”

The orc gritted his broken teeth.

“Not your lord, then.”

The prisoners had been captured before the current Orc Lord ever entered the region, so Luke had known the answer before he asked. He just wanted to see how the orc would react.

“You serve the orc king, don’t you?”

The orc remained silent.

“You serve Gurgal.”

The prisoner’s eyes widened. “How do you know... his name?”

Orcs tended to use titles for their leaders, and few were willing to give up Gurgal’s true name.

“I want to know about orc larvae,” Luke said. “Tell me what you know and I’ll give you a painless death. Or maybe I’ll free you, if you’d prefer.”

He still needed answers. What did the larvae eat? Where could they be kept? How exactly did they reproduce, and why did they die afterward? If a single larva was basically an orc factory, it was probably enormous. None of his previous interrogations had gotten him anywhere.

“I will tell you nothing.”

“Same answer every time.”

Luke moved the blade away from the orc’s neck and rested it against one of the chains. “Don’t you want revenge on the humans? They threw stones at you. Tortured you. You’re going to die anyway, so just tell me what you know about your king. Why stay loyal? He isn’t coming to save you.”

The orc only glared at him.

“This is a waste of time,” Luke said. “I’ll talk to the next one. Sooner or later, one of them will take my offer, and you’ll be the idiot who dies loyal to Gurgal for nothing.”

“I serve the true king!” the orc snarled. “Kill me! Torture me! I will tell you nothing!”

A few passersby glanced in their direction, but all they saw was the prisoner shouting at empty air.

True king? Luke stopped. No way...

He stepped closer. “Does the name Bagga mean anything to you?”

“Bagga...?”

For a split second, the orc’s expression gave him away.

There it is.

“It means nothing.”

Luke smiled. “Funny. I could’ve sworn Bagga was protecting Kobi and Rheera.”

The prisoner thrashed so violently that his chains slammed against the ground.

“H-how do you know? How do you know those names? How?!”

Found you.

Luke had finally found supporters of the orc heirs. Now there was only one problem.

How the hell am I supposed to get them out of here?

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