Two men joined Dakares in his private chambers, one of whom sat on a leather sofa directly across from him. All the servants had been sent away, leaving the three men alone.
Dakares, who just moments ago had been bickering with the first prince Sekt, sat stiffly in his chair, his blue eyes burning with rage.
“Dammit! We’re right in the middle of concentrating our power and now we lose our biggest financial backer?!” The second prince’s well-chiseled face twisted in anger as he spat out the words.
The large man sitting on the sofa across from him nodded deeply. The man’s muscular physique gave the impression of youth, though his white-speckled, brown hair and impressive mustache betrayed his true age. His name was Duke Maldoira du Olsterio, and he was one of the seven dukes, serving as the general in command of the third royal army.
General Maldoira made a face as he discussed the situation.
“Yes, as a result of this incident, Marquis du Diento’s eldest son, Orhevo, has been sent back to his city. We should plan on him being absent from the capital for a while, until he’s able to take control of the situation.”
Dakares pounded his fist on his thigh. “We’ve got bigger problems! If that fool doesn’t conduct himself properly, the inquisitors will figure out everything that’s happened! We need to make sure he keeps his mouth shut, one way or another.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’ve dispatched several good men along the route to Diento. He will never make it home.”
“My, my! You truly are fast!” Dakares readjusted himself in his chair, looking more relaxed now.
The general smiled. “I will graciously accept your compliment.”
“The servants who saw the events unfold are saying it was the work of elves, but could that really be it?”
“It’s hard to tell. There are reports of people seeing elves around town, but we also know a band of liberators attacked three other slave trading houses on the same night, resulting in over forty-four of the beastmen escaping. Many say the assassination was also the work of these so-called liberators.”
“I don’t care if the beastmen were the ones to perform the assassination, but I can’t see any reason why they would risk killing the marquis if their goal was to save their enslaved brethren. Do you think they were working with the elves?”
“I cannot say. It’s possible they wanted it to look that way. Sekt could have done this intentionally to weaken Diento’s position by exposing their crimes. Meanwhile, Yuriarna is trying to reconcile with the elves. If she discovers what we we’re doing, she may reveal your violation of the king’s wishes, further restricting your power. I’ve ordered the servants to keep their mouths shuts about what they saw, but we’ve already lost track of one of them. It’s possible one of your siblings offered them asylum.”
“Isn’t that a problem? If the servant reveals what they knew, then…”
“It’s still the word of a single, insignificant servant. The real problem, however, is what became of the funds that Marquis du Diento was supposed to send. Elves generally aren’t interested in money, and, even if these ones were, the amount taken could have never been carried away by such a small number of them. This could be some sort of conspiracy to weaken our faction.”
Prince Dakares frowned. This situation went far beyond a simple loss of funds to support his bid for the throne. If it all went public, this would bolster Prince Sekt and Princess Yuriarna’s own bids to be named Karlon’s successor.
Sekt’s faction had already won the support of three of the seven dukes. Plus, he had the support of the Revlon Empire to the west. The deck was already heavily stacked in his favor.
Just as General Maldoira had said, the only possibility was that this was a plot to further impede Dakares’s ambitions. Yuriarna was straightforward and honest, and Dakares was convinced she’d never do something as dirty and underhanded as stealing Diento’s money while making it look like an elven raid. His half-brother Sekt, however, would readily commit such an atrocity, all the while maintaining a façade of innocence.
“We must act before Sekt has a chance to. Cetrion, it’s time for you and Houvan to begin your preparations.”
A man in his thirties, dressed in military attire, stepped out from behind General Maldoira and bowed deeply in response to Prince Dakares’s command.
“As you wish.”
The man’s name was Lieutenant General Cetrion du Olsterio, one of the three royal generals and heir to the Olsterio dukedom. He looked just like a younger version of his father, General Maldoira.
Prince Dakares smiled, imagining his sneering brother wreathed in flames.
✦ ✦ ✦
At that very same moment, Sekt—the first prince to the Rhoden Kingdom—was also joined by two others in his private chambers.
The prince slumped back in his luxurious chair. It was made of amber-colored wood and covered with a cushion adorned with floral designs.
His blue eyes, set deep in his well-chiseled face, were inherited from the king, and he dressed in nothing but the most princely of clothes.
A beautiful, refined woman stood next to him, sipping daintily from a cup, her light brown hair neatly arranged. She shared facial features with Prince Sekt, though it was hard to identify them under her heavy makeup. She wore a gorgeous dress that blossomed out into a wide skirt.
The woman’s name was Lefitia Rhoden Sahdiay—the second-class queen and Sekt’s mother. She set her teacup down on the table as she spoke.
“Dakares’s camp is scheming as we speak. Are you just going to rest on your laurels, Rondahl?” As his mother, Lefitia still referred to Sekt by his given name.
Calling a member of the royal family by their given name was an honor reserved only for close family members and others with an intimate relationship. It would be considered nothing short of a grave insult coming from anyone else.
“Dakares and his gang are just trying to clean up after themselves, Mother. They did a respectable job concealing the truth, but it was painfully apparent where all the marquis’s money was going. I doubt we need to do anything, considering how much this whole debacle will set him back.”
The other man in the room nodded in agreement before speaking up. “In my humble opinion, Princess Yuriarna is the only one currently being proactive. If she uses this opportunity to take greater strides toward her own goals, it could very well endanger your bid for the throne.”
Despite this small-framed man’s polite smile and priestly attire, he had a rather vile air about him. He was a Hilk priest, named Boran, and he was only in the capital to proselytize and spread the Hilk faith.
“That’s true. She’s also popular among the subjects. If she uses this situation to gain the upper hand, those standing on the sidelines, and even the dukes who have aligned with us, may back her. We need to find out how the people are leaning and make our move. Boran, I assume you can call upon your magic-using followers, if necessary?”
The priest responded with fervor. “Why of course! We, and our Father up in heaven, will bring a thousand blessings upon you, Your Highness. My devout followers and I eagerly await the opportunity to be of service to you.”
Sekt struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Boran’s exaggerated proclamations. “Boran, we are equals, are we not? There is no need to speak so formally with me. And please, call me Rondahl.”
Boran looked perplexed for a moment before bowing low. “I am deeply touched by this great honor you have bestowed upon me, Master Rondahl. However, I’m afraid I must be going now, for there is much to do to ease Your Highness’s worries.”
The man was so excited he practically danced out of the room, though he still managed another polite bow before making his exit. Once he left, Lefitia let out a sigh.
“Did you really need to say that, Rondahl? Won’t this come back to bite you once Princess Yuriarna is disposed of?”
“Not in the least. Boran has been playing both sides for a while now, though his real goal is to get rid of Yuriarna. After all, she’s the one pushing Father to put a stop to Hilk proselytizing. Once I’ve used Boran to destroy Yuriarna, I’ll get rid of his private army. Religious inclinations are relatively weak here in Rhoden, so letting the Hilk infiltrate any further would only lead to more problems.”
Lefitia took a sip from her teacup. “I suppose so. On the other hand, it’s also worth considering the massive population increase an influx of Hilk followers and their temples would bring. Though, I’ve heard a rumor that the emperor of Revlon has turned away the Hilk’s high priest, so that may not be possible while the Revlon Empire supports you.”
“Right. It would be a pretty poor move to form an alliance with a rejected religion while we’re trying to stop their spread to the south, even if it would grant us access to the Holy Revlon Empire’s glacier-free port. First, I’ll have Boran figure out what Yuriarna is up to, then we’ll dispose of Dakares. After we reveal what really happened with the marquis, I’ll put an end to the Diento family and give the domain to the Hilk.”
Sekt let out a sinister laugh before picking his cup up from the table and downing the tepid tea in one gulp.