The sounds of snapping branches, shouting soldiers, and the deadly whistle of arrows filled the air at irregular intervals. The forest had not known silence for days. Somewhere a man was being hunted, driven without mercy or rest.

  A painful groan tore from Lahdor’s throat as an arrow slammed into his left shoulder, the serrated head buried deep in his muscle. Clutching his teeth to stifle a scream, he grabbed the arrow shaft, drew in a deep breath, and tore it free. Blood poured down his arm as he rolled to his side, the terrifying whisper of another arrow striking where he had been just a moment ago. In a normal situation, arrows would have been a mere inconvenience to him, but he was running on fumes; he needed rest.

  “It's been four days!” a voice called out from the trees, the dense forest, making it impossible to pinpoint its origin. “How long are you going to keep running?!” There was a hint of amusement in the voice’s tone. “You know you can’t get away!”

  Cursing in frustration, Lahdor snarled, spit flying from his face. “Maliri! You betrayed me! If I survive this, I will kill you! I’ll kill everyone you ever cared for! I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shoulder, he steadied himself with his hands, ignoring the sweat that soon mixed with his blood before running down his arm.

  Diving behind another tree, he started running again, pushing himself a couple of hundred yards before his exhausted body finally gave out. His knees struck the soft dirt, the impact leaving a deep imprint on the ground. Gasping, he tasted blood but ignored it as he desperately forced himself up.

  Get up! Get up! GET UP!’

  Clutching a low branch, he staggered forward.

  Lahdor knew he couldn’t maintain this pace. His body had long since reached its limits—but if he stopped, he would die.

  When the pursuit had first begun, he had tried to fight back. That mistake had nearly ended him then and there. They had come prepared— an expertly trained battalion, five hundred strong. A disciplined wall of spearmen kept him at bay while archers rained arrows at him in a never-ending stream. No matter how powerful he was, he couldn‘t win a battle of endurance against an enemy like this.

  They were herding him now, driving him deeper into the thickest part of the forest. Just trying to move through the foliage was taking up all his energy. Every time he stopped, arrows followed. They never allowed him to rest. Never gave him a chance to fight back.

  Collapsing behind a fallen tree, he squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a few shallow breaths, his pulse roaring in his ears. Hearing the shouting from the soldiers getting closer, he started to crawl. Reaching an exposed root, he dragged himself forward, moving like a worm.

  “Maliri…” he cursed again, picturing the fat man.

  Ever since accepting the order to raid his own caravan, everything had gone wrong. What should have been a clean, bloodless job had turned into a nightmare. Hagan’s Auctoritas had been far stronger than promised. When the fighting had ended, Hagan lay dead—his broken body crumpled at Lahdor’s feet.

  At the time, Lahdor had believed Maliri would clean up the mess, making it look like a different group of bandits had robbed the caravan. Instead, the merchant had betrayed him, unleashing Zenrom and a force of mercenaries just a few days later. He didn’t even give Lahdor time to plant the stolen cargo on another bandit group. And now? Now a whole battalion was after him!

  Rolling out of the way of another arrow, Lahdor tried to stand, only to be struck by an arrow in the leg. Screaming in pain and frustration, he fell on the ground.

  Lying exposed, the world started to spin, his vision pulsing with each heartbeat as he fought to stay conscious.

  Through the haze, he saw a group of cautious soldiers approach him, shields raised. Even when he was on the ground, they never let their guard down.

  They’re so careful, he snarled to himself in frustration. Can’t even kill one of them.

  Spitting out blood from his mouth, he managed to speak, his voice wavering.

  “Cowards! None of you would dare fight me!” Dragging himself up and looking at them, he spat. “Keep hiding behind your numbers. Hide behind your arrows! You weaklings who will never be true warriors!”

  “Fearsome words for someone lying in the dirt.”

  The mocking voice that had haunted Lahdor for days finally revealed itself as a man in noble attire stepped into view. Flanked by ten warriors, he approached at an unhurried pace and stood over Lahdor, the smile on his face never fading.

  Blinking through the haze, Lahdor’s mind went blank as he recognized the man’s armor—the colorful metal, the unmistakable coat of arms. Even in his state, there was no mistaking him.

  Lord Forcen of Kandula! A noble from another Kingdom.

  Staring at him, Lahdor couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Why was a foreign noble chasing after him in Vanura? How was he able to bring a whole brigade into the Kingdom without starting a war? Did the Royal Family approve of this? Was it more than Maliri? The more he thought of it, the more he was.

  “When did a lord of Kandula start taking orders from a merchant of Vanura?” he finally managed to gasp. His vision was starting to pulse, coming and going in waves. “Where is the dignity of a noble?”

  “What do you know about nobility?” Lord Forcen replied, drawing his sword and holding it loosely in front of him. “Do you know what the true power of a noble is?”

  Slowly, a blinding green light wrapped itself around the blade, and a faint image of a Green Mantis shimmered into existence behind him.

  “The true power of a noble,” Lord Forcen said calmly as he lifted the sword above Lahdor’s head, “is that we never need to justify our actions to a petty commoner like you.”

  Faced with the overwhelming power before him, Lahdor desperately tried to draw in Aether. He pulled recklessly, far beyond what his shattered body could endure. As he pulled, pain exploded through him as his crest ripped apart, unregulated Aether flooding into his body like a raging torrent. Pain like nothing he had ever felt tore through his body, destroying everything in its path. Screaming in horror and agony, he started to convulse, the pain turning his world into one of blinding white.

  Energy deviation!

  “Did you just tear your crest?” Lord Forcen asked, genuine surprise flickering across his face as his sword stopped mid-swing. “I’ve only heard of such a thing happening in stories. How unexpected.”

  Tilting his head, Lord Forcen seemed to be lost in thought before nodding to himself.

  “Thank you for showing me something so rare. In gratitude, I will end your suffering.”

  As the green light descended towards him, Lahdor welcomed it. Yearned for it, knowing it would finally take away the pain. Closing his eyes, he met the blade with a sigh of relief, the blinding green light shining through his eyelids.

  Lord Forcen watched as Lahdor’s head rolled to stop by his feet, the dead man’s face frozen in unmistakable peace.

  “Perhaps I should have let him suffer longer,” he mused to no one in particular.

  Bending down, he cleaned his sword on the dead man’s chest and stood up. Gesturing to a soldier, he commanded, “Send word to Maliri. Tell him I’ve done as he asked. Remind him that we are now even.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

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  A light rain fell gently as night fell over the land, cooling the lingering warmth of the day. The last memories of winter had finally vanished, leaving only spring. As the rain fell, the newly sprouted plants seemed to dance, each raindrop on their new leaves causing them to move in place.

  Deep within his manor, Maliri sat in his study, his heart beating erratically as he held a sealed message in his hands. Anxiety filled him. He bit his nails before spitting a fragment of his nail to the floor. Taking a breath, he ripped the message open. As his eyes quickly scanned the message, his face broke out into a wide, relieved smile.

  He had been waiting for the message for days, fretting over it, his stomach cramping every time someone approached him holding a piece of paper. Now that it had finally arrived and was confirmed to be good news, his shoulders slumped as the stress drained out of him.

  “My lord, is that good news?” Edgar, his butler, asked from the side of the room; his aged face showed no emotion.

  “Yes,” Maliri breathed. “All our ties with Lahdor should be settled.”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and sank even deeper into his chair. “I need a drink,” he laughed. “I feel like I’ve aged years in just a few days. Fetch me my special vintage!”

  “Crownfall’s Last Vintage, my lord?”

  “Yes. That one.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Blowing air out of his mouth as Edgar left, Maliri fanned his face with his hands. The rain had cooled the night air, yet he was still hot.

  “Why am I still so hot?” he murmured, standing and walking to the window. Reaching up, he unlatched it and pushed the window open. Instantly, the cool, humid air rushed in, striking his hot face. “That’s better.”

  Carefully sitting back on his chair, he patiently waited for his drink.

  Waiting, he grabbed a quill and began calculating how much gold he had gained from this ordeal.

  I spent more money than I wanted hiring the mercenaries and borrowing all those horses, he thought to himself, looking down at the numbers. But I still made more than expected. With this gold, I can organize caravans for both Arioria and Silkbug. This year we can go to both.

  An hour later, Maliri frowned. Edgar had still not returned. That’s not like him, he thought, putting away his calculations. Where is he?

  Feeling irritated, he took a deep breath before pushing himself up. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but the cool air from outside quickly cooled him. I need to remember to close the window before heading to bed, he thought.

  Before he could do anything else, he heard the door to his study open.

  “Edgar! Why are you so late!” he demanded, only to see his daughter walk through the door. “Sorry. I thought you were Edgar,” he said, peering over her shoulder to see if the butler was behind her. “Have you seen him? He should be returning with my wine.”

  Ashley stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind her.

  “Father, I need to ask you something,” she said, taking a seat. “Something uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?” Maliri echoed uneasily. His gut churned. Her tone told him something was wrong.

  A momentary silence filled the room.

  Then Ashley’s face changed, a darkness he had never seen entering her eyes.

  “Did you have Uncle Hagan killed?”

  Her words were like an icy blade.

  Maliri’s body stiffened as his stomach fell at the same time. He struggled to keep the panic from his sweaty face.

  “What nonsense is this?” He stammered. “How dare you accuse me of something so vile?”

  “Father,” Ashley said evenly, her gaze unwavering, “you know me. I would never accuse you without proof.” The darkness in her eyes seemed to intensify.

  The weight of her stare crushed what little resolve he had left. He had not seen such anger, such sadness in her eyes before. He felt his spirit deflate, the guilt he felt finally breaking free.

  “It… it was an accident,” he quietly whispered, staring at the floor. “I never meant for Hagan to die. He was too strong. Lahdor couldn't disarm him without risking his own life.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. How did you find out?”

  As he uttered those words, memories of Hagan flooded into his mind, causing him to tremble.

  “We made far too much money from the insurance and retrieval of the caravan,” Ashley replied, folding her hands on her lap. “It didn’t add up, so I reviewed our finances.” Her voice shaped. “Father, we’re nearly bankrupt. Without this incident, we would already be in debt. What happened?”

  Feeling despair at the situation, Maliri cleared his throat. “Those low-interest loans,” he said quietly. “They’re bleeding us dry. In the long term, it’ll pay off, but right now, they’re crushing us. We don't have money.”

  “Then why did you keep approving those loans?” Ashley demanded, slamming her hands on her thighs as she stood up.

  Maliri’s temper flared. He gripped his meaty hands in large fists, the unfair situation causing his face to turn red.

  “Because the Black-Market King was strangling the kingdom with predatory loans!” he roared. “It would have collapsed our economy! And King Alfred did nothing—nothing! Someone had to act. So, I did! I gave people a way out, a future!” his voice shook with fury.

  “I gave anyone suffering from the Black-Market King a low-interest loan with our money. Do you know what it cost us? Everything! We have no money! I had to think of a way to keep us afloat until the loans started to get paid off!”

  He was now pacing back and forth, his arms flailing around.

  “We saved the kingdom, and what we got in return? Nothing! Death, and loss! Hagan and Lahdor—both Arcane Lords—gone. Half of our strength, gone!”

  Sweating profusely from his outburst, he reached for a glass of water and took a drink. Calming down, he turned to his daughter. “Does Zenrom know?” the quietly questioned.

  “No,” Ashley said at once. “He doesn’t know. And he won’t. Your betrayal would destroy him. I won’t put that burden on my husband. I made up an excuse and sent him to the capital with Shina, San, and June.”

  Taking a moment, she continued, her voice harder than before.

  “I found your contract with Cold Moon—the assassination guild.” Her eyes burned. “You had a whole branch of the Information Guild killed, just to stop Zenrom from learning the truth.”

  Maliri shrank back as if struck.

  “Father,” Ashley continued, sitting once more, her gaze never leaving him, “who is Lahdor? And why did you count him as half of our strength?”

  “Lahdor was… my hidden card,” Maliri admitted, squeezing his eyes closed. “He helped me build my fortune from the shadows. He was the reason I was able to accumulate so much wealth at a young age. I…I just received word from Lord Forcen. Lahdor is dead.”

  “You had a noble from Kandula kill the man who helped you build your empire?” Ashley snapped, her voice dripping with wrath. “What did you promise him? Have you turned our family into traitors?”

  “Nothing! I promised him nothing!” Maliri stammered, shame and anger churning in his stomach. “He owed me a debt from years ago. He was more than happy to repay it by killing Lahdor.”

  “At least that much is good,” Ashley said coldly. “Father, I love you—but I have no choice. You will retire and leave the main house. I will take your place as the head of our House.” Her tone made it clear this was not a suggestion, but a command.

  Hearing his daughter's words, Maliri stepped forward, anger and pride causing his face to turn red.

  “That is too much!” he shouted. “I will not give up my position! I have spent my entire life creating this empire. I will not surrender it now!”

  “Father!” Ashley shot back, fury causing the veins in her neck stand out. “You have broken the most important principle of being a merchant—trust. You have shattered it!”

  Her words rose with each word. “If anyone outside our House learns the truth, our business will collapse. Without the trust of our investors, our guards, the bandits and warlords we pay off, without trust in our products and services, we cannot survive!”

  She took a ragged breath.

  “You scammed the insurance company. You caused the death of not one, but two Arcane Lords. And you worked with a foreign noble and an assassination guild to clean up your tracks.” Her eyes burned. “We have no choice. You must step down to protect our interests.”

  “I WILL NOT!” Maliri bellowed, his eyes wide with rage. “Now you listen to me! I am your father! I decide when I retire! You are not ready. I have sacrificed too much to back down now!”

  “Sacrificed too much?” Ashley retorted, her voice going deadly calm. Her eyes narrowed with madness.

  “You murdered Uncle Hagan and dare to speak about sacrifice?”

  Her words were full of pain. “All for what? Money? He was like a brother to you. He loved you. He trusted you.”

  Hearing Ashley’s words, Maliri felt shame and regret overwhelm him. He had kept those emotions buried for days, the fear of Lahdor’s escape giving him strength. But now, with Lahdor dead, Ashley’s words brought those emotions up like a storm.

  “I had no choice,” he shouted, trying to convince himself more than her.

  “You did have a choice,” Ashley shouted back. “And you chose the worst one. You are no longer fit to lead.”

  “And if I refuse?” Malriri demanded, desperation welling up. “Would you expose me? Destroy our family? Will you let everything I did go to waste? As long as we stay silent, no one will know.”

  His voice cracked. “Ashley, daughter… please. You must see reason.”

  The Golden Caravan was everything to him, his life’s work.

  “Father, you know as well as I do that you do not have another option!” Ashley growled.

  Hearing Ashley’s words, Maliri felt anger and desperation give him courage. Stepping towards his daughter, he questioned. “And if I refuse to retire? What will you do? Will you kill me?

  “How can I, your daughter, do such a thing?” Ashley quietly said, her unblinking gaze boring holes into Maliri’s eyes.

  “Then I refuse to retire!” Maliri declared, standing as straight as his shaking body allowed.

  “I prayed it wouldn’t come to this,” Ashley said softly. “But you leave me no choice.”

  “And what would you do?” Maliri snapped.

  Ashley met his gaze without moving.

  “Father, you haven’t forgotten that I am your sole heir. I was born here. I was raised here. Your men are my men.”

  She paused. “Before I came to you tonight, I had Reges gather those most loyal to me and had them swear loyalty to me. We made sure every administrator supports me. And those who didn’t…” her voice hardened. “They will no longer be making decisions. Many of them had already noticed the change in your behavior over the past few years. You’re slipping.”

  The room spun as understanding dawned on Maliri.

  “Edgar,” he whispered. “Where is Edgar? Did he betray me, too?” Edgar knew all his secrets!

  “No,” Ashley said sadly. “No one has betrayed you. You betrayed them.”

  She locked eyes with him. “As for Edgar… he was loyal till the end. Loyal to his morals. Loyal to House Maliri. He was the first to stand with me.”

  Hearing her words, Maliri knew he had lost.

  Heavily sitting down, he closed his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said at last, his voice shaking. “You’re right. I will retire and leave everything to you.”

  He exhaled.

  “You’ve won.”