Chapter 54

(Hearthrow Estate)

Malfias waits patiently for his visitors in his private chambers, consuming a food platter while he writes a letter. Auburn wax bears the Hearthrow symbol of a lion as he seals the document before sending it off by a bloodhawk. He has more papers to write and sign ever since the death of the false Edreth.

Shung is the first guest to arrive for the meeting. As usual, he appears earlier than the expected time. Sitting in front of Malfias, he stares at the letters his boss has yet to acknowledge. Some of the recipients cause him to raise his eyebrows, a reaction he hides quickly each time he notices him about to look in his direction.

“What are the letters for?” Shung inquires.

“They’re family matters,” Malfias answers, stamping on an envelope. “Mainly checking on the statuses of my brothers, sisters, and offsprings across the world and whether some of them and my father intend on traveling to the Summit. There are also letters mixed in there about Edreth.”

Shung decides to inquire about the odd letters, starting with the most peculiar. “Errek Alermetson? I’m curious as to why he’ll receive a letter from you.”

“Errek and I have a history with each other. I’m sending him a gift in celebration of his twentieth wedding anniversary.”

“No doubt he will dedicate your investments towards his project. How much do you expect in dividends?”

“Minimal dividends. Virtually inconsequential. My gift is sincere.”

In all his years with Malfias, Shung still suspects an ulterior motive. “Malfias, gift, and sincere are words I never thought would be together.”

“It’ll plant the seeds, so it’s basically a massive largess.”

Such a plenteous endowment for a tiny return? The end of the world is indeed upon us. “What about Yalïd Araqiel in Klarroth?”

Malfias opens another envelope. “I’m inquiring information as to why my daughter, Tryce, is no longer in contention in marrying the Yalïdiniš."

“A shame. Having Klarroth as an ally would be beneficial if you’re willing to overlook some of its idiosyncrasies.”

The door opens before Malfias can respond, and two men ambulate in, chatting. One is an elder with a long, white beard while the other is younger, though the youthful male utilizes makeup to keep his goatee and hair dark, masking the grey areas. They greet Malfias and Shung before taking a seat at the table. The man in the makeup receives a subtle, bitter response from the Hu-Janese.

Malfias relocates from his desk over to the table, meandering around impatiently for the other arrivals. “They’re late.” He expects Envarn to be tardy. It’s usual for him to personally remind his prodigy. But, Eryce, this is her first time. Perhaps the invitation didn’t completely register with her since it’s also the first time she partakes in the meeting, and she forgot. They waste five minutes before walking through the door.

“Sorry we’re late,” Eryce says. “I was busy teaching him as you requested, and we lost track of time.”

“At least we can start the meeting,” Malfias responds dryly.

“I would like to begin by saying it’s an honor to be a part of the council, again,” the man with the long beard speaks.

“There’s no need to utter those words each time I call for a council, Otys,” Malfias responds with a hint of exasperation.

“Yes, Lord Malfias,” Otys replies meekly. “Apologies.”

Envarn rocks in his seat energetically, grinning. “So, this is a council? I’ve never been to one before. I expected it to be more august, but this will do. What’s this about?”

“You, for starters,” Malfias answers, pointing at his scion. He adds as he stares at everybody at the table, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the deceased Edreth left a vacancy at Castle Carneath. Soon, Envarn, you’ll be the next baron by marrying Sheilra. The family will be one step closer to obtaining the Dragon Throne, and every Adoranian territory will fall under our influence. For once since the dawn of the kingdom, the monarchy is weak.”

“Why waste time on Castle Carneath?” The man wearing makeup inquires. “No offense,” he adds towards Envarn. “It would be beneficial to marry off one of your sisters or one of your two daughters like the Balceran and Aleudras family are attempting as we speak. It would be disastrous if the Elves of either lineage obtained the grand prize. Tryce would be an ideal candidate.”

“Because, Petryke,” Malfias speaks, “I’m preparing for war, and having a Hearthrow marry a person with Sturn and Terryn blood in them, unifying the two families to mine, will be a powerful alliance. I believe the current king will soon perish due to his negative reputation and weak leadership. There’s no other person with a claim to the throne.”

“Aside from one,” Shung interrupts. Everybody but Envarn and Eryce falls silent for a minute. The former has an arrogant visage while she dismisses the individual.

“If we were in Thelos, then I would worry,” she replies.

“I can kick the shit out of him,” Envarn utters with a cocky attitude. “Bastard won’t know what hit him.”

"Let's not forget the clause that dates back to the founding of Adoran," Shung points out.

“Anyway,” Malfias redirects their attention to the main topic, “with no rightful heir, conflict is virtually ineluctable.”

“If I may bring this up,” Otys speaks up, “I’ve been noticing an atypical spike in the finances. You’re siphoning every coin from our sources as possible to your operation. A loan from Diamond Financial for four million emperium coins? It will be years to pay this off. Decades even.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Maflias responds. “The grandest of prizes require the most major of moves. Fortune favors risk-takers, and this fortune will dwarf the loan to a mere drop once we succeed.”

“It would be wise to strengthen our foothold while time remains,” Shung recommends. “Edreth’s jurisdiction provides no major boon, except for Sheilra, while the Montins have Meybury and its plenitude of minerals and the vaults in Siartin risk falling into the Brotherhood of Liberty’s hands. The commoners down south are riled and threaten secession. It will be auspicious to unite the Hearthrows and the Sturns before Adoran loses the Fertilelands. ”

“They’re blowing off steam,” Petryke says. “The peasants know they lack the capabilities to launch any meaningful attempt. Like parents to a child throwing a tantrum, ignore the mud bathers, and they’ll eventually shut up when they’re not receiving attention, or you give them a severe spanking or two.”

“Let’s not forget our northern neighbor,” Shung utters. “The Phehans would love nothing more than civil conflict in Adoran. The shadows articulated that the new queen is a replica of her mother in the personality department or worse. We are handing the kingdom to them on a silver platter if a civil war breaks out. There are also whispers of several Cerths desiring for their land and independence, recruiting more members.”

“The Farlanders are just replicas of the southern provinces. All bark and no bite.”

Shung proceeds to stare at Petryke. “Dhaknio Valley would like to say hi.”

“That reminds me,” Malfias speaks to Petryke to disrupt his and Shung’s conversation. “The Summit nears, and the events in the southern provinces are one of the main subjects the Seven Noble Families," he utters the following words with a bit of disgust, "and the Gaaruuks will discuss. It’s the only common denominator we have. I want you to join the Hearthrow family as an advisor.” Shung represses a sudden burst of emotion.

The offer has Petryke’s attention. “I am honored. I’m also surprised that Shung isn’t going.”

“He refused.”

“Is that so?” Petryke turns his attention towards Shung with a subtle smirk. “Did the Shadow Whisperer come down with a sudden case of the cold feet?”

“More of other obligations,” Shung replies, maintaining his imperturbable demeanor.

“Before we conclude our meeting, what other news do you wish to report?” Malfias inquires.

“The shadows tell me that Raulyn is currently in Garen’s Well,” Shung answers.

A flash of anger forms on Malfias's visage. “Our enemies aren’t doing a terrific job at ridding us of him.”

“I can hire some mercenaries to do the task,” Eryce offers. “He possesses zero combat skills. They’ll end him as soon as the first sight of that dwarf. Or send a few whores his way, and he’ll be too occupied to reunite with us.”

“Send both. As Raulyn’s busy with a prostitute, the mercenaries shouldn’t have any problems obtaining his head. He’ll die with a hooker on his cock. I imagine his final expression is during his orgasm. Anything else?”

“There are reports of a male and female claiming they’re the descendants of Aris Aram, over in Lutis and Eltyr, respectively,” Petryke responds.

“More people exploiting the legendary hero’s legacy,” Otys utters with disgust. “How abhorrent.”

“And near the Darkened Seven, no less,” Shung responds.

"Those two will soon perish," Malfias replies. "If they keep spewing their heritage to the public, then they'll only attract opposition. I'll even contribute to that front to keep the backup clause from occurring."

 “My shadows are reporting of activity to the east. It is Ordren, and he is the Calîn in the Ilulan Empire. The people consider him as the holy vessel of their god.”

“Like I said before, I would worry if we are in Thelos,” Eryce speaks, though she does have some internal fear. “Their navy is mediocre, and their wyverns can’t fly across the Levosita Ocean without ships. We’re safe from the pious jingoes.”

“They’re amassing new ships and improving those that are salvageable. How long do we have till they’re breathing down our necks? I doubt as long as you think, and hopefully, your gods help us when they reach land. Everybody must be frantic by the event judging by the aggressive actions by the nations.”

“People have a fascination towards superstition. If there’s nothing additional to canvass, then the meeting is adjourned,” Malfias says. He faces his wife. “Make sure to hire Iskar Raksi,” he utters in a low voice. She nods her head and leaves.

One after another, the members exit through the door and go their separate ways. Observing Petryke beckoning him, Shung follows him to a secluded hallway. He puts on a stoic expression to him.

“I knew since the assembly that you and I weren’t done with our talk,” Shung says.

“As perceptive as ever,” Petryke responds. “You decided on the shadows. Fascinating.”

“The shadows provide the best information. It’s where people flock to divulge their secrets because they feel it’s secure or they underestimate its ability to eavesdrop on dialogue. Tell me, what didn’t you approve of the marriage between Tryce and the Yalïdiniš?”

“She would forge a better alliance than Klarroth,” Petryke answers.

“From your perspective.”

Petryke smiles. “It’s not my perspective. It’s the world. The Archive will mark it down as a positive.”

“The Archive does not view through the lenses of positive or negative.”

“Bias exists everywhere. Even neutral institutions such as the Archive has it, whether conspicuous or subtle. Which bias will Illyria accept, yours or mine? In case you’re aren’t aware of the signs, our preparation time is at an end. From this moment onward, the game truly begins, and each move we perpetrate will determine who will conquer who as the prophecy unfolds.” As he leaves, Petryke utters his next words while walking backward. “Gyr Kaonłajnys”

“Gyr Kaonłajnys.”

(Train to Lenehil)

Sylfinas lays in the bed in paralysis from Resila’s potion. Every part of his body below the head is numb. Cold steel touches near his right ear as Resila presses her gun against him. Shock, betrayal, confusion, and fear are fusing together in the cauldron of his emotions as clear liquid transudes through his skin. Rimita actually exists? I thought Kaera was excogitating a random name for her story.

Resila cocks the hammer of her revolver. “I’ll repeat it before I fire. What do you know of Rimita?”

“Nothing, I swear,” Sylfinas answers. Her expression shows that she doesn’t want to commit to her threat.

The door opens, and Arven, Kaera, and Lorna barge in while Bolts, Merrick, and Myla wait outside. Startled, Resila points her gun at them. Sharp pain causes her to drop it as Lorna shoots her arm.

“Reach for that gun or try any funny business and I’ll blast a hole through your fucking head,” Lorna warns. Resila heeds it as she beholds Arven, a snarling Kaera, and Lorna armed and ready to fight.

“How did you become aware of my situation?” Sylfinas inquires, glad that he has reinforcements. Then, embarrassment activates as he realizes his genitals are on full display.

“Myla told us,” Kaera answers. She is in her usual sleeping attire of being nude, unconcerned about the public on the train. Her greataxe is ready to do business.

“She said she sensed you were in trouble and guided us,” Arven adds.

“Don’t injure Resila,” Sylfinas speaks. “She doesn’t want to inflict harm.”

“What does she want?” Kaera inquires as she lowers her greataxe. While this is occurring, Merrick does most of the persuading to curious people.

“Remember when you told us about faking a Halfling named Rimita? Turns out a Rimita exists, and Resila wants to know our current knowledge."

“What are the odds that some random name is actually on a Wanted list?” Merrick asks outside the room. “And no, you may not answer, Sylfinas.”

“That name gives her sadness,” Myla utters from outside also.

“None of you actually have information pertaining to her?” Resila asks, easing her threatening stance. The group answers with a nod.

“Who is Rimita?” Arven inquires.

“She’s my lover. She’s been kidnapped, and I’m searching for her to bring her back to our home so we can raise a family.”

“Kidnapped by whom?”

“The Phantom Brotherhood. At first impression, I thought you were members.” Resila notices Arven, Kaera, and Sylfinas having the most visible reaction to the culprit. Out of her view, Merrick expresses the same response as them.

“Clink-clank.” Merrick stares at Bolts in confusion, trying to decipher its message through charades. It gives up after he fails miserably.

“I assume you are familiar with the organization,” Resila says.

“It caused havoc in mine and Arven’s hometown of Belburn in Adoran,” Sylfinas answers. “It summoned a zombie horde during the Harvest Festival.”

“The members also kidnapped me,” Kaera replies.

“Did you behold her?” Resila asks. Her eyes have a glimmer of hope.

Kaera shakes her head. “Either she was purchased before me or locked up in a separate chamber from mine.”

Disappointment fills Resila’s eyes this time, lowering her gun, which causes the group members to lower their weapons. “So, she’s anywhere without a clue to her whereabouts.”

“Sorry.”

“What lures you to Lenehil?” Arven interrogates.

“I figure the best way to initiate my search is by traveling to her last location, which is Lenehil.” Believing the group is truthful, Resila liberates Sylfinas from the potion by pouring a violet-colored antidote down his mouth. It assuages the muscles’ tension like leaving after a deep, heated massage session, and his sense of touch returns. “Apologies for causing this mess. You are free to go,” she says to Sylfinas as he hoists his pants up.

“Before I leave, was there any connection between you and me?” Sylfinas answers

“Sorry, but I don’t roll that way, except grinding on a phallus and a simple handjob to coax a virile individual into divulging secrets.” Resila answers. Arven, Bolts, Kaera, Lorna, and Merrick don’t need Myla’s assistance to know Sylfinas’s balloon is deflating. “I never sucked a male's cock nor had one inside me in my entire life. I even barred them from performing oral on me. Though I must admit that you’re attractive and benevolent that you’ll acquire a romantic relationship in no time.”

Saying their farewells, the party members retire to their respective rooms for the night. As Arven, Myla, Bolts, Kaera, and Lorna sleep soundly while Sylfinas gets rid of his blue balls, Merrick tosses and turns in bed before waking up from a dream. He buries himself in blankets as both hands suddenly glow blue and discharge tiny lightning bolts. As he places them closer to each other, the electricity merges together into a sphere before fizzling out.