Chapter 26 - Baron Thorpe (Patreon)

The sun was beginning to set as Christopher and I waited for the baron’s carriage to arrive. He’d sent a messenger some minutes prior to alert us. We gathered our aides, some local town guards, a few adventurers, and set up to meet him with a display of power and force.

All Christopher really needed was me if he wanted fear, but the unity of the town surrounding him and me was something he wanted to express. He and I standing arm-in-arm alone might give the impression that Christopher was ruling through fear of me, showing he lacked the genuine ability to govern independently despite the changes the town and territory have undergone in the past five years. However, if a group of townsfolk supporting us were present when the Baron arrived, that would tell a different story. Not only would we possess power, but we would also have the respect required to be leaders.

It was entirely possible the Baron wouldn’t consider any of this. Still, the effort was necessary. Nobles tended to care about optics. It wouldn’t be a waste, regardless of the outcome.

“You nervous?” whispered Christopher to me.

“Slightly,” I admitted.

“Want me to hold your hand?”

“If you’re brave enough.”

“I’m plenty brave.”

I chuckled. “We wouldn’t want the Baron to get the wrong intentions.”

“Who knows?” said Christopher rather slyly. “Maybe it’d help our cause.”

“For him to think we’re lovers? Don’t you think we should stick with how you usually treat me? Equality would make him uncomfortable.”

Christopher didn’t respond. He was unusually…flirty? It made me feel weird. Part of me was happy, while the rest felt like I was reading too much into something I wanted.

I lightly bounced up and down, using the heels of my feet to help me fidget as I waited. Christopher pressed his fingers into his palm until his knuckles turned white.

“If we’re this bad, imagine the others,” I whispered.

“They have no reason to be nervous,” said Christopher. His voice was calm and steady. Even as his fingers twitched, his eyes were firm. “I’m here.”

A large entourage of soldiers and two carriages moved by horses came marching down the main road into town as if on cue. Even bystanders not in our party curiously watched. They could tell this would be a tense, important meeting. Some of the chattering around us was hopeful, while others were nervous.

“A few dozen knights, squires, likely some bureaucrats, and the man himself hidden in that carriage,” muttered Christopher. “What sticks out to you?”

“For a Baron, he’s displaying too much wealth,” I replied, my eyes trained forward and my mouth only moving slightly. “That’s too much of a show of power for a diplomatic mission. It’s also more than this Thorpe fellow should have available to him. Those soldiers are from Port Prosper. Either the Viscount you mentioned is backing him or the Count. I’m leaning toward the Count, given the extravagance and what you told me earlier.” I paused. “Or that man has become exceedingly wealthy compared to the average Baron. In that case, it demonstrates how much power he has or is willing to fake.”

“Accurate as always,” commended Christopher. “Regardless of the answer, we know for sure this is important to the Baron. Very important. We shouldn’t take this lightly.”

“But of course.”

The convoy moved into town and stopped before our delegation, waiting to greet the Baron. The atmosphere was tense and only worsened when the knights and squires finally noticed me.

If looks could kill.

All the soldiers started gripping their weapons. I could see their eyes and marks glow as they started swelling their mana in anticipation of a fight.

Suddenly, Christopher grabbed my head and pulled me into his body. His left hand rubbed the area between my horns while his right sat comfortably on his hip.

Guess we are going with how he usually treats me in situations like this. Less of an equal and more of a loyal toy. They won’t see me as dangerous. Just…obedient. Harmless…unless told otherwise.

“Sorry,” whispered Christopher.

My face was blood red with embarrassment.

“Does she scare you that much?” teased Christopher. He continued to rub me like a pet. “I promise you have nothing to fear.” He looked at me. “Do they?”

I lifted my head, looked up at him, and shook my head as innocently as possible. “No, Your Highness.” I glanced at them. “As long as they’re kind to you.”

It was the general ploy we’ve gone with for the past few years. Christopher had to show he had authority over me without making it seem like he abused me. That way, there wasn’t inherent fear that I’d retaliate if I went free. Instead, we went with the “pet” analogy, making it seem like I was loving and cuddly to my master and only my master, regardless of circumstances.

It tended to work well. We’d always laugh about it afterward, mocking each other for the stupid things we said or did.

The first carriage opened. Bureaucrats came pouring out until the five of them were fully visible. They rushed to the secondary carriage behind them and opened the door.

Out stepped a thin man with a weathered face, thinning brown hair, and well-manicured stubble around his jawline. He looked to be about forty years old. It was hard to tell if he was a kind, cruel, or opportunistic man. He didn’t give anything away. His green eyes gazed at the scenery around him like a hawk ready to pounce on its prey.

Then his eyes met me.

A shimmer of fear caused him to flinch—so subtle I almost missed it. His stance did not break, nor did he alter the way he held himself. He held himself steady, but I caught the way his nostrils flared, and his fingers twitched near his waist toward a sword that wasn’t even there. A trained nobleman—hiding instinct with poise. His gaze lingered a second too long, shifting not with horror but calculation. Measuring me. Wondering how a creature like me could be what I am, standing beside a prince like I was.

He’s fascinated. I realized.

Christopher let go of me and stepped forward. He held his chest high and his expression even.

What would come next would say a lot.

If they stood eye-to-eye with no gesturing, then it would be a slight to Christopher’s status, and this meeting would instantly turn hostile. If they shook hands, it would show a business-like intent but still lack the respect someone like Christopher deserved with his crest. If the Baron bowed, however, it would mean Christopher was being given due respect and that this meeting was a prelude to a partnership beyond just business.

The only people who knew this, though, were myself, Christopher, some of his aides, the Baron, and his aides. The bystanders would think nothing of it.

The Baron looked Christopher in the eye, darted his gaze to me, brought it back to Christopher, and bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”

The tension in my back fled immediately. Christopher didn’t let it show on his face, but his fidgeting ceased as a humble smile supplanted his lips.

Our efforts these past five years had paid off. All we needed to do was keep pressing forward. As much effort as it took for someone like Baron Thorpe to acknowledge us, in a sense, it was just the start of another long road we needed to travel.

“You must be tired from your journey,” said Christopher. “Allow my aides to guide you to your rooms. We can reconvene for dinner in the evening.”

“A moment, first, Your Highness.” Baron Thorpe stood up and gestured to one of his attendants. “A gift.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I insist.”

A skinny staffer of the Baron’s opened his codex, tore out a sheet, and handed it to Barone Thorpe before slinking back into the background.

The Baron reached inside until his hand was stuck inside the page halfway up to his elbow. He quickly pulled out a spear, letting the paper fall away from him. It disappeared into particles of white mixed with reds, blues, and yellows.

“Count Prospero had this made for you personally by one of the premier Arcworkers in all of Port Prosper.” He got on one knee and held it before Christopher. It reminded me that the person I was pining over was second only to the King in Zalevet.

The spear looked strong and practical. It had a sharp point and a solid handle. Good leather lined the middle, ensuring a solid grip when using the weapon. A Pristine Mana Crystal was in the middle fo that grip—an item usually found in Tier 2 or Tier 3 monsters and demons. Many, many coins were spent on that ingredient alone, let alone the actual Arcwork itself.

“It’s a simple piece, but the wood was shaped from a Dread Tier Abberant. It was a tree-like monster that ravaged the Broken Bits for decades. People called it Old Thatch. It killed hundreds of people and dozens of adventurers throughout its life before finally being killed.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” admitted Christopher. “Is it true it could multiply itself?”

The Baron smiled, pushing the spear forward. “Please see for yourself. Flow your mana into the crystal. You should be able to feel the connection and power.”

Christopher did just that. He grabbed the spear, jabbed the butt into the ground, and stared at the tip. His marks, Crest of Kings, and eyes glowed like green lights. The mana crystal in the spear did as well. They responded to each other with ease.

“Ah. I see,” muttered Christopher. He tossed the spear into the air. To my surprise, it started to hover. “Amazing.”

In an instant, the spear glowed bright green, like mana itself, before splitting into six distinct spears.

Holy shit, that’s amazing! I couldn’t help but stare.

“Be careful, Your Highness,” said Baron Thorpe. “It—”

“Takes a lot of mana to maintain. I can see that.” Christopher was sweating. The other spears he generated disappeared, and the glowing green one that started it all returned to normal, though its mana crystal was still green, showing it resonated with him. Christopher opened his hand, and the spear returned to his palm.

That alone makes him stronger than almost everyone in his color class. I thought, staring at the spear with envy. Much better than the sword I made him. Dammit. I suck. If I had better ingredients and parts, I could have made something like that, too! Using an Abberant like that is cheating!

Christopher glanced at me. He was huffing. The exercise must have wiped him out. His gaze turned back to the spear. After a moment, he handed it to me. “Yen, could you give this a try?”

I was stunned.

“Y-Your Highness, the gift is for you, not—” started the Baron.

“Yen is my shield,” interrupted Christopher. He smiled at me, crossing his arms over his chest—spear still in hand. “A good shield deserves a spear to compliment it. Please, give it a try.”

Nervously, I grabbed the Arcwork once he offered it again. I’d made a few myself the past five years—mostly duds. The Arcwork sword I made for Christopher was my first success, but it was barely one compared to this little guy.

“If you’re sure, Your Highness,” I murmured.

Instantly, I flooded my mana into the spear.

As soon as my mana touched the crystal and cycled back into me, it was like a piece of forgotten knowledge returned. My mana acted as a tether, allowing me to control its movement at will like it was attached to a sentient thread on my body.

The spear took flight and zoomed through the sky. I giggled as it moved seamlessly with my will.

“I…didn’t realize it could go that high,” admitted Baron Thrope. His voice trembled. “I-Impressive.”

The spear had a set amount of mana that could fit within it. Copies could only be generated based on how many times someone could fully fill the spear repeatedly.

How many can I make?

I tested the thought immediately. The first ten didn’t even register in my mana. Fifty felt like a sliver, at best. One thousand started bothering me. Ten thousand made me uncomfortable.

Probably shouldn’t do any more than that. I thought while looking at the bystanders around me. Besides, the mana crystal might not break. I don’t think it’s strong enough to control what I’m doing for long.

Already, ten thousand spears made the sky above look blurry. If they were sent straight down, I could easily destroy the town. If a galleon full of soldiers sailed to our shore, I could pepper it into pieces with one blast of spears. Granted, I had many ways of doing that beyond the spear, but in terms of visuals, this was horrifying.

The Baron had backed away from his soldiers, who started surrounding him with their weapons drawn when I made one hundred spears. As the numbers increased, they only got more tense. Some of the aides hid back in the carriages, and even a few villagers returned to their homes.

I stopped what I was doing, recalled all the spears from the sky, snatched the main one from the air, and handed it back to Christopher. “Thank you, Your Highness. I appreciate you allowing me to try your precious gift. May it serve you well.”

“R-Right.” Even Christopher was shocked by what had happened.

I overdid it.

Christopher noticed the discomfort and my overzealousness. His eyes darted around as he quickly formulated a plan. “Come here.” He snapped his fingers at me.

I did as I was told, dropping my head in shame. I moved until I was just under his shoulder. Christopher wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close.

“You went a little overboard, didn’t you?” Christopher chastised me, rubbing my head.

“I’m sooooorry!” I squealed, making my voice high-pitched and childlike. “Are you mad?”

“No, no. I’m not mad. Just remember your place.”

“Okay!” I hugged Christopher by the side, a playful grin on my face. “I’ll do whatever you say! Promise!”

It was an understatement to say that little interaction had an overwhelming effect on everyone around us.

The Baron and his men immediately relaxed. They actually looked terribly confused. It helped that our people—the soldiers, adventurers, and Christopher’s aides—were used to such displays. They didn’t even react to most of what happened. Combining our actions and the nonchalant attitude of everyone around us seemed to cool the fire my apocalyptic display started.

Even so, muttering took over the Baron’s entourage.

“No one should be able to do that.”

“We couldn’t stop her if we tried.”

“How can he control her? Is he a God?”

“He’s going to be King.”

“I appreciate your gift,” stressed Christopher. He smiled. The spear was in his left hand, and I dangled from his side on the right like an accessory. “I will treasure it. Now, please, allow my aides to guide you into town for rest.” He paused dramatically. “We can talk more at dinner.”

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“Are you sure we don’t need to change?” I asked Christopher, nervous. I pulled on the edge of my skirt and fixed my shirt collar.

Christopher was wearing exactly what he wore when we met the Baron, as was I. “I’m sure Baron Thorpe will. I don’t want to play such games. He’s already acknowledged me and given me a gift.”

“And I terrified the shit out of him,” I whined. “Well, everyone.”

“No, you did a good thing. He tried to show how powerful he was with his escort. You showed him real power. If he had any plans to harm us or deceive us, he’ll rethink them. Thoroughly,” he said, putting his arm over my shoulder. “You were perfect.”

I blushed. “Th-Thank you. I-I didn’t do it on purpose, though.”

Christopher smiled brightly. “Then call it a ‘happy accident.’ We got what we wanted. All we need to do now is secure us an ally.”

We were waiting at a newly built addition to Beginner’s Rest that Tannin and Bruno created to cater to high-class clients. They began construction on it shortly after Christopher revealed his identity and his intention to stay in town. They were ruthless businesspeople, after all, and their efforts paid off. This allowed the two of them to generate profit outside of Beginner’s Rest and expand their monopoly on the town’s hospitality industry. If it weren’t for Melinda, I’m sure they would have dominated the entertainment industry, too.

Beginner’s Rest now looked like two buildings smashed into one. The older inn was out in front for adventurers and travelers to see. It provided food, lodging, and access to contracts via the Guild. It was mostly made of wood, though it was very large and tall. It was also more centrally located, with more foot traffic in front.

Behind the original inn, stones rose like a wall. It was almost as if a small castle had been wedged behind Beginner’s Rest. The structure was more expensive; it offered fewer rooms but larger spaces for dining and meetings, as well as more extravagant features. The building was also quiet, with thick materials used to block out the sounds of the first inn. Additionally, it provided a certain level of privacy, considering its location behind a much more popular gathering point—the original inn.

Tannin and Bruno pitched it as a “luxury” experience apart from Beginner’s Rest. Higher-ranked adventurers, wealthy merchants, and now nobles used the space. However, on this occasion, Christopher and Baron Thorpe organized for the Baron to occupy it alone during his time in the city.

Our aides were already inside conversing with the Baron’s people, but the Baron himself was still getting ready for the dinner we’d planned that evening. Christopher and I were inside a fancy parlor within the building, waiting with everyone else.

The Baron’s guards watched us, making sure the place was secure. They eyed me warily, not bothering to give Christopher a second glance.

“I guess I just want an excuse to leave for a few minutes,” I admitted. “Hate it when people look at me like this.”

“Looking at you might be the greatest thing they ever do,” said Christopher without missing a beat.

I knew he was catering to our “act,” but it still sent little tremors of bliss down my spine.

Suddenly, an aide from the Baron’s party walked up to us. Sweat dripped from his brow, and he was tense but did so anyway. “The Baron has made his way to the dining room, Your Highness.” He glanced at me. “M-My Lady.”

“I-I’m no lady,” I corrected quickly.

The aide immediately started to panic. “My apologies!”

Christopher laughed. “Don’t mind her. You did nothing wrong. She’s just nervous. Thank you.”

The aide dipped his head into a bow and hastily walked away until he was out of sight. Our people snorted and laughed under their breath at the whole interaction.

“Wait…what is my title?” I whispered, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t have one, do I?”

“My Lady works. Accept it,” said Christopher. “It’s a sign of respect. My Lady. Lady Yennifer. Don’t settle for anything less.”

“Okay. I can do that.” I pumped my fists confidently in front of my face and shot him the most confident look I could muster.

Christopher stared at me.

“What?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

He covered his mouth with his hand and turned away. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

Our aides went first to the dining room. They held open the doors, announcing Christopher’s presence as he filed in first, with me just behind him acting as guard.

The room was filled with the Baron’s people. Knights and attendants lined the entire venue. Many were standing behind the baron behind their seats, waiting for the event to start, while others stood in the shadows against the walls.

The baron was already sitting alone in the middle of the table with two chairs purposely set up across from him for Christopher and me. Over his right shoulder, a single soldier with violet eyes stood ready with a sword at his waist guarding him.

He’s wearing his sword, so he doesn’t have to search for it through his codex in case something happens. I realized, assessing the scene. They’re tense and anticipate trouble. At least, the guard is. They either don’t trust me, which is understandable given the culture, or what they have to tell us will make us angry. Or I’m reading too much into this. I guess we’ll find out soon.

Christopher nonchalantly took his seat. Once he was settled, I filed beside him, acting just as calm as he did. Our aides and the Baron’s sat at the table as well, though they were to our sides on the edges with ample space between us. It was as if the Baron, Christopher, and I were at a table alone. Almost.

“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting,” said Christopher. His expression didn’t betray whatever he was thinking.

“If anyone at this table kept the other party waiting, it was me,” admitted Baron Thorpe with a hint of regret. “Forgive me. It was a long day, and I needed to finalize our agenda here.”

“Please, you don’t owe me an explanation. Just let me know if I can help in any way.”

“You’ve done enough acquiring these accommodations.” The Baron looked around. “Things have changed since I last visited.”

“In more ways than one,” said Christopher.

“Right, you are.”

Servants walked around, filling glasses for everyone in attendance. We were given wine, much to my annoyance. If I had to pick a drink, it wouldn’t be that, but I was looking for anything to dull my nerves a bit. If wine were all I had, I would have to make do.

I reached for my glass as soon as it was filled, but Christopher kicked me under the table.

Right. Manners. My bad. I shot him an apologetic look.

Once all the glasses were filled, food was set out. Turkey, ham, vegetables, bread, potatoes. It was an ensemble that screamed decadence in a town like ours.

“Shall we raise a glass?” proposed Christopher first. He lifted his, stood, and hoisted it into the air.

The Baron followed suit, as did I. Everyone at the table joined us. The only ones who did not were the guard behind Baron Thorpe’s shoulder, the surrounding staff, and those lining the walls.

“To…good friends,” said Christopher simply. He allowed a charming smile to leak onto his lips. “And the relationships yet to be forged.”

“Here, here,” replied the Baron.

Everyone toasted. I finally got to drink, which was great. I could feel everyone sneaking looks at me. It would be nice if I could get used to it, but I doubted I ever will.

The guard behind Thorpe—tall, sharp-eyed, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword at his side—glared like I’d already killed someone he loved.

Baron Thorpe seemed to notice this. He glanced over his shoulder and waved his hand at the guard. “Jerome lay off the girl. Find something else to look at.”

The knight, Jerome, recoiled. “But sir—”

“Girl,” said the Baron. His focus was entirely on me. “My knights are quite terrified of you.”

I stared at the Baron, stunned. Even Christopher blinked. For once, he was thrown off like I was.

“Few have seen an archdevil, let alone with white eyes,” said the Baron. “We’d heard the rumors, but seeing it in person is something else. What you did with the Arcwork this afternoon was nothing short of astounding. Truly an impressive feat. I’m envious of your power.”

“Th-Thank you.” I ducked nervously, scratched my head, and stared at the table. “I didn’t know I could do that either.”

“So humble.”

“I’m serious, my Lord.”

“Then our Prince is very lucky to have someone with such a well of power to draw upon at a moment’s notice,” said the Baron. “Our country is lucky to have you. Isn’t it?”

“I’m lucky to have it,” I said. My head lifted, and I forced myself to look right into the Baron’s eyes. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known. It’s provided me with food, shelter, love, and opportunity. I couldn’t wish for a better life.”

“Even as a slave?” Baron Thorpe’s question was sharp and to the point.

“As a companion,” corrected Christopher before I could even speak.

The Baron’s eyes darted to Christopher. “In what way?”

Christopher thought for a moment. He lifted his left arm and laid it on the table in a way that drew everyone’s attention. His fingers played with a knife before wrapping his hand around it firmly.

I tensed, knowing what would come next.

Christopher turned the knife toward his palm—slowly, deliberately. His intent was clear. His eyes never left the Baron’s. “Yen, you are not obligated to protect me in any way,” he ordered.

Then he plunged the knife forward without hesitation—straight toward his hand.

All the guards in the room reacted, reaching forward.

My hand clamped around Christopher’s wrist mid-motion. The blade froze inches from his flesh. No blood. Just silence.

“I hate when you do that,” I hissed, my voice very quiet and laced with concern. Only Christopher could hear me.

Christopher glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He’d done things like this before, showing I’d go to any length to protect him. After our first show in front of the town when my secret was revealed, the act’s effectiveness couldn’t be ignored. Acting contrary to how humans thought I would—and in such dramatic fashions—had an overwhelming effect on them.

Everyone stared. The Baron’s expression cracked open with stunned disbelief.

“I’m curious,” the Baron said after a moment. “What would you have done if Sir Jerome had brandished the knife at the Prince?”

I stared coldly at the Baron, then at Jerome. “I’d kill him.”

“Without order?”

“Without hesitation.”

“I see,” murmured the Baron. His expression was thoughtful. After a moment, he relaxed. “I’m convinced.” He paused. “Not of your strength. Of her. Of you both.” His gaze moved between us. “You’re not a monster, are you girl?”

The word ‘monster’ sat wrong with me, but I didn’t respond. Apparently, my face did the talking.

“It is not an insult, my dear. Just an observation,” the Baron said. “The little cracks in your personality told me everything I needed to know.”

I felt myself blush. What cracks?

“Pray tell, what have we convinced you of then?” wondered Christopher. He had a neutral look on his face. His hands were now flat on the table, and his eyes calmly overwhelmed the Baron with his attention.

“That Count Prospero should back your claim to the throne of Zalevet,” said Baron Thorpe.

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Baron Thorpe was a careful man. Not cautious—careful. A man who trusted nothing and no one, not even his own memory. He re-read documents until his eyes blurred, rehearsed lies until they sounded like truth, and kept blackmail on allies he toasted in public. It wasn’t paranoia. It was survival.

A man like Baron Thorpe would not willingly put himself before a prince bearing the Crest of Kings and an archdevil bearing white eyes without reason.

The prince was born to a maid the King raped, lost everyone important to him, and was chased out of Camden by assassins. He had no supporters in the capital or throughout the country. No one would miss him if he died—not even the King.

The archdevil changed his fate entirely. Stories of it had spread across the land over the past five years. The initial ones were that it had taken over Sandy Branch. Later reports said it was working for the Prince. When people visited the town and reported back to the respective nobles, merchants, and mercenary organizations who hired them, the story of the archdevil being raised by the Kingdom as a weapon against other devils became the dominant narrative. And that Prince Christopher was the one taking charge of the program.

Over time, those stories changed. The public knew a “Black Horned Guardian” lived in the Forest of Beginners. It was said to protect people visiting the forest and grant them good luck should they choose to visit. That rumor only spread further as time progressed. Eventually, people knew—or at least assumed—this “guardian” was an archdevil. Still, it had such a positive relationship with the Guild, mercenary groups, and adventurers that it was starting to change the hearts and minds of some. After all, most people only heard about archdevils through stories. The people who met or were saved by her changed their minds about her kind after seeing Sandy Branch, her personality, and her relationship with Prince Christopher. At the very least, they saw her like any other kind of devil—less than human but reliable.

As for the nobles, they admired Prince Christopher’s ability to control someone as strong as an archdevil and one with white eyes at that. It inspired many to think more highly of Zalevet’s cultural relevance and power.

However, those “in the know” did not feel pride. They felt fear. They knew there was no program to steal an archdevil baby and raise it to love Zalevet. Those in Camden knew this, as did those with deep connections to the city.

Count Prosper was one of those people. Outside of Camden, he was one of the most influential city nobles. And as one of his people, Baron Thorpe was privy to his ambitions.

This small “in the know” group was sure of but one thing: Prince Christopher had an archdevil under his control. They were also aware that the prince was chased out of Camden by his brothers’ supporters, lost his mother to a runic bomb, and had barely escaped death multiple times throughout the years. He likely had no love for the country—not enough to put it over his own life.

That very man suddenly had one of the most feared creatures on the planet at his beck and call. Not only that, but it also had white eyes. In a sense, Christopher could destroy or significantly harm Zalevet whenever he pleased.

And yet he did not.

For five years, Prince Christopher Zalevet remained in a small town outside the Forest of Beginners, doing nothing but helping the downtrodden, participating in local politics, and generally staying out of Zalevet’s business.

It drove the Baron crazy. In Christopher’s shoes, he’d have stopped at nothing to usurp his brothers. At the very least, he’d have tried gathering more power.

The Baron had only one question: what motivated Prince Christopher Zalevet?

Sitting at the table, watching Christopher and his archdevil, Yen, interact—he felt he had an answer. All he needed was confirmation. If it were true, he could change Zalevet forever.

“I have no wish to be King,” said Christopher instantly. His expression told the Baron his words were valid.

“That matters very little to us. You have our support either way,” said the Baron. He cut into a piece of turkey breast, forked it into his mouth, and chewed it slowly. “As long as you have her, we will always be your allies.”

The prince tensed. Suspicion crept into his eyes, and for a second, he looked younger—like a boy waiting for the trick at the end of a compliment. “May I ask why?”

The Baron paused for a moment. “What do you want from me? Name it.”

Christopher flinched.

“If it’s within mine or the Count’s power, we shall grant it.”

Christopher pondered the words for a while before speaking. “Let the people keep their taxes for a set period so that we can reinvest it into the town. We’re thriving, but we need better infrastructure to keep pace with the influx of people.”

“Done. Keep your taxes for the next five years,” said the Baron without missing a beat. “I’ll also send a letter of recommendation to some of our merchant contacts in Port Prosper. They’ll be willing to invest if we assent to it.”

“Really?”

“With my word, the last remaining wall of fear keeping this place from becoming a dominant power in the region will melt away,” said the Baron. “Stories of my departure and arrival here will travel far within the territory. My successful return and words of praise, not to mention our support for you directly, should be enough to grant you supporters and monetary power.” He smiled. “Feel free to use my land as you see fit. It’s not my only source of income.”

The Baron watched as the walls Christopher and Yen put up melted away. They seemed on edge before, but those simple words and gifts returned them to the young children he saw upon entering the village.

“Why?” Christopher couldn’t help but ask.

“Why would I do something that’ll directly benefit me politically and monetarily?” the Baron phrased rhetorically. “You’ve revitalized my lands and wish to bring in industries to expand it. Why would I say no to this?”

Christopher merely stared.

“What else did you want from me?” The Baron grabbed his wine and sipped from it, giving the prince time to think.

Still, Christopher did not speak.

“What about you, girl?” The baron directed his words at Yen. “Want anything?”

“N-No!” stammered Yen. Her cheeks tinted red, and her eyes darted erratically.

It has no confidence in itself. Baron Thorpe confirmed. The rigidity it has usually falters in these moments. And it looked completely different when using the spear, like a child playing with a toy. His eyes darted between Yen and Christopher. But it loves him. Of that, I am sure. That’s a much more powerful motivator than any runic mark or threat. Even without their little show, I was confident of that.

While Baron Thorpe felt he had a good understanding of the dynamics between the prince and the devil, he wasn’t certain. Given his years in politics and negotiations, he was confident, but further information was always a boon for success.

How do you feel? wondered the Baron as he looked at Prince Christopher. I could test it out. But that will have to wait.

“Relax, girl. I’m only joking.” The Baron raised his wine glass high. “Let us drink and enjoy each other’s company,” he said, putting on a delightful smile for the group. “Do you both enjoy music?”

Christopher nodded slowly, but Yen’s face lit up. She leaned forward enthusiastically and shook her head much harder than Christopher dared to.

Charming, in a crude sort of way. Baron Thorpe noted with clinical amusement. “In Port Prosper, there is a magnificent theater where—”

-----

•

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Hours went by. Bottle after bottle of wine had been emptied. Both parties—aides and knights included—were very comfortable with each other to the point where laughter filled the room. Even musicians from the other side of Beginner’s Rest were moved into the dining area to fill the lulls of silence. Lutes, flutes, violins, drums, and lyres filled the air with sweet music.

“And you say he had orange eyes?” Baron Thorpe leaned forward as Yen recounted the tale of an assassination attempt on Prince Christopher.

“Very strong, too. Said his name was Rook.” Yen was standing, her demeanor much more relaxed thanks to the three bottles of wine she finished herself. She dramatically pointed her fingers at her lungs. “I cut off his arm, but it kept going, still holding his sword, and got me right in the lungs.”

“Did he die?” asked Jerome, the knight. He, too, had grown warm to Yen’s tomboyish tone and interesting stories.

“Noooo!” she droned, puffing her cheeks like a pouting kitten. “He got away. I’d show you the scar, but it healed up a lot.” She started fiddling with her top. “Not even a trace of a—”

“Not in front of guests, Yen.” Christopher hurriedly stood up and stopped Yen. His expression was stern. “Maybe you need to get some air.”

“Oh.” Yen’s voice got quiet. “Am I being a nuisance? I’m sorry.”

“N-No, of course not,” muttered Christopher.

Baron watched the interaction with intrigue. He’d worked hard to drink and get comfortable with everyone. Luckily, Christopher and Yen had easy personalities, and their staff was intelligent and likable. It wasn’t hard for him to enjoy the night. Even his own people were now enthralled by the atmosphere and the town. Whatever fear they had of Yen had melted away, especially after her stories, childish mannerisms, and adorable personality.

“Maybe they’re not that bad,” the Baron overheard one of his aides talking.

“I couldn’t imagine her hurting anyone, honestly,” another muttered back.

“She’s kind of…cute, right?”

“You saw the spears. She’s strong.”

“But she’s close with the Prince. And she seems kind. Doesn’t she?”

“Your Highness,” said the Baron. “May I have a word?”

Christopher stopped messing with Yen and focused on the Baron. “Oh. Certainly.”

They both got up from the table and stepped toward a shadowed corner of the dining hall, lit only by the dying embers of a wall sconce. The music dimmed behind them like the party had already moved on.

“I’m very impressed by you,” said the Baron. “You’ve accomplished a lot at your age and with little support. Given what you’ve gone through, you’ve turned into a remarkable young man.”

Christopher’s brow furrowed. “Thank you, sir. Where is this coming from, if I may ask?”

“You remind me of my son,” said the Baron simply. “I never got to tell him that and wished not to repeat my mistake.” He cleared his throat before the prince could ask a follow-up question. “Are you aware of the internal politics in this country?”

“Somewhat,” said Christopher.

“Are you aware of the dissatisfaction between the west and the eastern parts of Zalevet?”

“I am.”

The Baron smiled. “Then you can guess why I am here.”

Christopher sobered, his face growing serious. “Are you speaking of secession?” His jaw tensed as he said those words. The implications of such a notion were not lost on him.

“I said no such word.”

“Camden does not deal kindly with traitors,” advised Christopher. His tone was very serious. “You can ask the former Baron of Water’s Bastion for confirmation if you’d like. I’m sure his decapitated skull still whispers secrets on windy nights.”

“I’ve heard enough secrets to last a lifetime,” uttered the Baron. Christopher’s tone or words didn’t put him off. “What I care about is my people. You know what this country is like in the east. Decadence and division. The people there live in luxury while the western part remains detached, supporting a part of the country that would let them suffer should a border war occur. You only need to look at a history book to see how they’ve retaliated against Brosnock’s encroachment on their border or Agias’s spreading its philosophy within our northern lands. They’d sell this country tomorrow if guaranteed peace and luxury.” The Baron grew more and more passionate, though his voice stayed low so only Christopher could hear him. “We are not a country. We are run by merchants with titles waiting for a deal.”

“Let’s skip the theatrics,” said Christopher. “Are you suggesting I start a civil war?”

“We want you to empower the west so that it stands even with the east,” corrected Baron Thorpe. “If there’s a civil war, other countries will be in our lands the next day, taking what they can while we are exhausted. We cannot afford that. But you have Yen. You have the Crest of Kings. Regardless of who becomes King, you will have power none of the other nobles can dare dream of. If you use this process now, you can forge a strong west that can stand united with the east.”

Christopher looked away from the Baron. His hand tugged on his chin as he thought over the words. After a moment, he looked back at Thorpe. “I cannot promise anything.”

“You want safety for you and that girl, do you not?” the Baron questioned. “This is the best way to achieve that.”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Baron Thorpe put an arm over the prince’s shoulder. It was blunt and disrespectful—and entirely on purpose. “Speaking of the devil, you can control her, yes?”

“…yes.”

“She’ll do whatever you say?”

“Within reason.”

The Baron slid his tongue over his top lip. “Would you allow me to use her for the night then? She’s very attractive for a monster, and—”

Christopher gave the Baron a look so hateful and vile that the man flinched. But he recovered instantly, twisting his lips into a smile.

He loves her. Baron Thorpe realized. He’d never actually touch the girl. The very idea of doing anything sexual with a devil made his stomach churn. But to see the Prince’s fury spark with just a suggestion—that was all the proof he needed.

“A joke, Your Highness.” He removed his arm from over the prince’s shoulder and took a humbling step back. “Or rather, a test.”

“The fuck do you—”

“Create a world that’s safe for her, too,” Baron Thorpe offered.

Christopher tensed. He glanced at Yen from the corner of his eye before focusing back on Baron Thorpe, his hands shaking with fury.

“I think that’s enough for today,” admitted Baron Thorpe, not wishing to push his luck. He patted Christopher on the shoulder. “Please, enjoy your night, Your Highness,” he said before stepping toward his attendants with the intent to retire for the evening.

The Baron had achieved his goal. He’d learned why Christopher was in Sandy Branch, had established a relationship with him, and found a reason to get him involved in the political world outside of Sandy Branch.

To Baron Thorpe, the world gleamed with opportunity—because the devil smiled for someone else.