The morning sun cast its rays down on the mountainous forest bordering the lands of Bovera and the kingdom of Kandula. While most people pictured vast fields of golden wheat when thinking of Bovera, almost a third of its territory was actually mountains, an ancient, wiry forest of old, twisted trees growing on it so densely that it was nearly impossible to pass through unless one lived amongst them their whole lives.

  Near the edge of the forest, where the trees were thinner, the sunlight filtered through the branches and shone down on a group of mounted men. They wore the traditional hunting attire of House Bovera: colorful, ornate formal wear. They were waiting for their lord, who had gone into the forest to hunt.

  Drawing his arrow to the corner of his mouth, Lord Bovera took a moment to align his shot before releasing. Like a bolt of lightning, the arrow flew from his bow, streaking through the air and burying itself in the trunk of a tree, while the deer he had aimed for darted deeper into the forest.

  “That was close,” his brother laughed, riding up beside him.

  “Archery was never my strongest,” Lord Bovera grumbled, jumping off his horse and striding toward the arrow he had just shot. “But we can track the deer.”

  Pulling the arrow out of the trunk, he slipped it back into his quiver. Good arrows were precious. Looking in the direction the deer had run, he dusted bits of tree bark from his hands. I should have gotten off the horse before taking the shot, he thought, knowing the act would have scared the deer away before he was able to draw his bow.

  Returning to his horse, he took the reins his brother was handing him, sighing loudly as the man continued speaking.

  “Brother, the tension between Para and Baura is becoming problematic. I heard Lord Para demanded that Lord Baura hand over his nephew as compensation for his daughter's death. If this continues, it might ruin our plans.”

  Stupid girl. She should have kept her head down and stayed home, Lord Bovera thought, feeling a hint of guilt.

  “I know, but we had no choice,” he finally replied, climbing back onto his horse. “Ulric’s daughter heard everything. She was too big a security risk. We had to get rid of her. I was hoping our assassins could reach her before she reached Baura.”

  Kicking his horse into a trot, he continued, “Luckily, we hired professionals. There’s no evidence that we are involved. For now, Ulric only blames Averell and his nephew. But that might change. We can’t continue with our current plan. We’ll need to improvise.”

  “Brother, what are we going to do?” Tulka asked, pointing at the fresh tracks the deer had left.

  As he pointed to the tracks, a cloud drifted in front of the sun, causing the spring day to feel chilly—almost cold.

  Shivering slightly, Lord Bovera felt his mood start to sour. He didn’t like the cold. Following the deer prints with his eyes, he answered. “We still have one favor left from the Great Shine. Depending on the help they provide, we will need to adjust our strategy, but I have a plan in mind. It’s more dangerous, but we’ve run out of options.”

  “A new plan? What do you have in mind?”

  “We’ll use Hector’s idea,” Lord Bovera said, the corners of his lips curling at the irony. “We’ll ask Drake to moderate a duel between Ulric and Averell. During the duel, with the soldiers we request from the Great Shrine, we’ll kill both Drake and Averell.”

  His brother inhaled sharply. What he was suggesting was open rebellion.

  Lord Bovera looked at his brother and nodded. “We end it now. It’s all or nothing.” He knew he was gambling everything on this plan. If it failed, everything he had done so far would be for nothing.

  This is for House Bovera.

  “Are you sure?” Tulka asked, his voice low. “This will be the point of no return…”

  Raising his hand to silence his brother, Lord Bovera drew his bow again, aiming at a deer moving between the trees.

  “Wait.”

  Releasing his arrow, he watched as it closed the distance between them in an instant, the deadly projectile plugging itself into the deer’s chest just above its front legs. Struck, the creature lunged forward, crashing through the thick underbrush before collapsing onto the ground, its life quickly fading.

  As the deer fell, Lord Bovera turned to his brother. “This is a sign,” he declared. His superstitious upbringing often dictated his decisions.

  Looking at the deer, his brother frowned. He was less superstitious than Lord Bovera, but he never went against him.

  Before his brother could speak, Lord Bovera continued. “When we get back, I will write to Drake asking him to mediate the duel. I want you to personally go to the Great Shrine again and ask for our last favor.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Nodding slowly, Tulka spoke. “I understand. But would Lord Para agree to this? Lord Baura is much stronger than he is. Out of all the Great Houses, it is well known that House Para has the weakest Auctoritas. Their House is known for its archery. I don't think we can convince Lord Para to challenge Lord Baura to a duel—not even for his daughter.” His eyes were locked on the fallen deer, his voice steady but with a hint of uncertainty.

  Understanding his brother's concerns, Lord Bovera smiled, attempting to reassure him. “Don't worry about that. I will convince him. The fact that he knows the Great Shrine helped us with the Nazau situation will give me some credit. And if I tell him that the Great Shine will help us again, he will not refuse. He will trust me.”

  At least I hope he does, he thought, his face devoid of expression. Lord Para was known to be extremely cautious.

  “If you say so, Brother,” Tulka replied, pulling out a horn and blowing into it. As the pure note enveloped them, the sound of a second horn answered from the distance. “Our soldiers should be here soon,” he said, returning the horn to his hip.

  Sunlight slowly peeked out from behind the clouds as a gust of wind picked up, causing the horses to dance in place.

  Patting the side of his horse’s neck to calm the animal, Lord Bovera looked down at the deer he had killed, his determination wavering. “Tulka… if we pull this off, we may be able to declare ourselves as an independent kingdom—one not tainted by the sins of Salizia, one that will stay true to its people.” He spoke as if trying to convince himself more than his brother. They both knew that becoming an independent kingdom was harder than becoming the strongest in the region. They had to be acknowledged by the surrounding kingdoms, and that was unheard of.

  “I believe in you, Brother,” Tulka replied, waving his hand towards the group of soldiers coming into view. “We will build a new, better kingdom.” As the soldiers approached, Tulka raised his voice, calling out to them. “Lord Bovera shot a deer! I want you to take care of it. We will have a feast!”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Letting the men handle the deer, they made their way back to camp. As they slowly rode, Lord Bovera and Tulka debated idly back and forth, their topic: how they would govern their new kingdom once it was established.

  “The biggest problem I see is religion,” Tulka said, scratching at the side of his chin.

  “Religion?” Lord Bovera asked.

  “Yes—religion. Alumus and Gera are turning the capital into a battleground over it. The biggest reason the Royal House can't control the Great Lords is that the capital is on the verge of a religious civil war. Last year, several assassinations and arson attacks were carried out by both sides. It has mostly stopped since winter, but I believe it will start again once the weather gets warmer.”

  “So, we must have one state religion…” Lord Bovera mused, frowning at his brother's words. “When we break off and create our own kingdom, we must think of a way to prevent religious conflict from infecting our people.”

  “Yes. We must make Alumus the state religion.”

  Lord Bovera frowned, thinking aloud. You’re right. With our ties with the Great Shrine, I have no doubt they will expect us to name them the official religion. But the more power we give them, the less we will have over our people. In the worst-case scenario, they will take all the power. And once they do… they can remove us or keep us as nothing more than a powerless House.”

  “There is another thing we must not forget,” Tulka said, his deep voice rumbling. “The majority of the farmers in our lands are worshipers of Gera. If we name Alumus as the official religion, we will anger them. Not only that, when I met with Saint Santius, I saw a glimpse of what kind of man he truly is; he is a dangerous man whose greed knows no bounds. We cannot allow him to grab hold of our land.”

  Tulka is not one to exaggerate, Lord Bovera thought, looking into his brother’s gray eyes. There was a seriousness there that made him pause. Do we need to keep an eye on Saint Santius?

  Choosing his words carefully, he slowly spoke. “So, you’re saying we cannot allow Alumus to become the official religion if we want to keep our farmers from rebelling? That puts us in a difficult position. The Great Shine will expect us to name Alumus as the official faith after all they’ve done for us. If we refuse, they will view it as betrayal. They will label us as enemies of Alumus and refuse to recognize our kingdom as legitimate.”

  Frowning, he imagined the political fallout that would come with this. Without the backing of the Great Shrine, Queen Milina and Hector would inevitably gather an army and attack them, wiping out their entire family. Fortunately, that threat would be years away; with their current financial and religious unrest, they will not be able to raise an army that quickly.

  The immediate concerns would be Kandula and the Great Shrine. Kandula borders the lands of House Bovera, and if House Bovera declared itself an independent kingdom, Kandula would attack without hesitation, claiming the non-aggression pact signed with Vanura did not apply to a breakaway realm.

  As for the Great Shrine…

  “If the Great Shrine declares us enemies of the Light, we will be in a fight for our lives,” he said, shifting in his saddle. “Countless people would gladly harm us just to earn the Shrine’s favor. It would be unwise to backstab them—at least not yet.”

  Turning to his brother, Lord Bovera put on a helpless smile. “That is the position we will be in if we manage this insane plan of killing both Drake Leora and Averell Baura. The path ahead is… not promising.”

  Laughing suddenly, he slapped his thighs and shook his head. “That's all we need to do!” he shouted, as if trying to convince himself as well as his brother. “Very well—let us challenge our fate! We have survived years of starvation, war, sickness, and the biting cold. We have all buried loved ones, watched as weeping parents buried their children, and much more.”

  Images of the past couple of decades flashed across his mind, each one tempering his determination.

  “I will not allow our House to remain weak and poor! I will not allow that crazed Saint of Alumus to take what we have worked so hard for! And I will not allow our own people to turn on us. Tulka, we will spit in the face of the howling darkness and cut out a place for our House—for those who have died for us! Even if we must double-cross the old Terrors themselves!”

  His voice echoed out, causing his soldiers to look at him in shock. Their eyes were wide, but there was hope in their eyes. They did not know what they were talking about, but from his outburst, they knew it was about them.

  Straightening in his saddle, Tulka put a closed fist on his chest. “Brother, I will follow you to death and past it,” he calmly swore. “Let us carve our names into the pages of history,” his gray eyes seemed to almost glow.

  Turning to his brother, Lord Bovera started to laugh, his laughter causing Tulka to laugh as well.

  Laughing like madmen, the two brothers made their way back to camp, the hopes and dreams of their House on their shoulders.