Fiona glanced around the room, at her gathered friends. “You guys might want to make scarce, while I–”

  “Oh no, I am so done with all the royal intrigue crap going on,” Bonnie growled, all the while the arcane relay in Fiona's hand continued to ring. “I want to give him a piece of my mind!”

  “He’s a king, Bon-bon,” Greg tried in a modicum of de-escalation. “You do not want to get on his bad side on this one, regardless of whether the fault of this latest…situation…may be squarely on his shoulders.”

  “Oh no, I’m gonna take a bite out of him, too,” Darla growled. It was perhaps the most dangerous thing Fiona had heard from her, and matched more with her prickly exterior. “We’ve got your back, Fiona. We’re all in this, now.”

  “Well, try to be polite, then?” Greg proposed. She clicked the accept diode, and the device came to life, with beams of light projecting an image of a tall, powerful, and grey-bearded figure, standing in a rather informal long-sleeved dress shirt, tunic, and leggings. And sandals that she was quite envious of when Rikkard Greybeard’s image fully materialized.

  Rikkard gazed at her with cheery green eyes and smiled. “Greetings, Miss Swiftheart–”

  “You’ve avoided my calls for over two weeks!” She roared as her composure and her mood instantly snapped. Greg went pale and wide-eyed, Bonnie sighed, and Darla made a little fist pump in the background. “Rikkard, we’re friends, but you don’t ghost your friends for that long, especially when they call a situation ‘dire’ or ‘life-threatening or ‘your youngest son is an utter dick!’”

  “So much for ‘polite,’” Darla commented, rubbing one horn anxiously.

  Arcane relays weren’t supposed to project any force, per se, but Fiona’s wrath was a force to behold as Rikkard grimaced and faltered in his answer. “Um, well, ah–”

  “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started! Your son stiffed the guild–the entire guild–after we curb stomped Douglas the not-so-magnificent, and kept this kingdom burning-free! And then, he had the cojones to show up at our little celebratory bash! I probably saved your son from a bloodbath by him keeping to his lofty perch away from the crowd. So, you know, you’re welcome!” She was gnashing teeth and pointy-eared elven fury–and her ears were telling a mood that Rikkard would not be spared from.

  “Fiona, please–”

  “Don’t please me, Rikkard! I’d happily save the kingdom I call home, but your son betrayed the trust of everyone who fights for it–and Gregory, and Darla, and Bonnie, and me! He pulled a dirty on every single one of us. Do you know what he did?!” she screamed.

  He stood there, silent, clenching his jaw, and his gaze lowered to the floor. Her fingers clenched tightly, and she could feel her nails digging into her palms. “You can’t say it aloud, can you? He used his mark, Rikkard. ‘Pay up, or die’ were the two options he gave me. He set me up to either be his patsy, or take an early ride into the grave. Or, door number three, me beating the odds and paying off this levy. This wouldn’t have been a problem if Doug had any coin in his collection. It was literally the only thing missing in his entire hoard!”

  “Okay. I get that you’re upset. Now, I can understand a good venting, Fiona. Have you got that out of your system? Do you need me to get someone to talk to you?” Rikkard asked after he immediately regained his composure. She glared at him for a good full five seconds.

  “You don’t give a crap, do you? I thought we were friends, but this is cold, Rikkard. You just blew me off after I told you son put a death curse on my head! You’re lucky Greg was in the room, or I’d have bounced his head all over the palace! Oh, let me guess, no one had the balls to tell you—"

  “What he did, was in alignment with the powers vested to the crown, Fiona. But he gave you an out. Six months of your time. That’s all he asked.” The words from Rikkard felt forced, the way his jaw was clenched tight—like a steel vise.

  Her arms went limp—this was a betrayal of the highest order. “Unbelievable. You are unbelievable. You’re defending that sack of shit, acting like this is my fault for telling him to piss off after an unjust tax got levied on me.” She was half tempted to smash her arcane relay into pieces right now. “Tell me why I can ever trust you again, Rikkard. Because I don’t think I can.”

  “Because he’s doing what’s right for the kingdom,” Rikkard stated with little emotion. “He’s focused on its future.”

  “What about mine?! Was I just an inconvenience after we smashed Douglas to pieces?!” That fury that had long been simmering found an outlet, and cute smiles and charm couldn’t hold back the rage she’d been bottling up for a while. It felt like an electric crackle through her body. “He could have done a thousand other things if you guys were tight on cash. But no, he did the dumbest thing imaginable to coerce me to comply, like he expected me to roll over—"

  He put out a hand of restraint, and she saw that he was fighting back tears. “Fiona, let me be clear. He has burned his bridge entirely with me, for what he’s done. I want you to know that, and know that I made a mistake, putting him in charge—if temporarily. I thought I had a good read on him…and I didn’t.”

  It was just enough to keep her from boiling over. But her teeth were still gritted, and she gave him the elven glare of doom. “A mistake doesn’t involve your son abusing his mark like that. Must have learned that from someone.”

  If he knew, he chose to change the subject, instead. “I also understand through reliable sources that you’re making headway and may fulfill your end of upholding the decree he issued. Look, Fiona, if I had that money to spare, I’d do it myself. But I can’t make that kind of money magically appear. The coin has to be earned, not freely given.”

  “How does his mark work?” It was the first time she’d heard something that wasn’t bullshit from him tonight.

  “He uses the authority of the mark to make someone fulfill a condition. He can never use that power again on anyone else for the rest of their lives,” he explained. “It’s a…oh what did my mage call it, a soul bind. It’s something you see in some of the more sinister classes.”

  “Still sounds pretty crappy, putting a curse over someone’s head. What happens if I fulfill the condition?”

  He didn’t answer. “Rikkard, you better not clam up now, if you don’t want me to hang up forever. What happens when I pay off this tax levy?”

  “It will…end badly for him. Unless of course, another agreement is made, freely given and freely accepted, between you and him. It will negate the previous condition.” The way he said, was rather ominous.

  “Oh shit.” Greg was the first to say it, and it had to be the most pronounced reaction she’d ever heard from him. “If she pulls this off…his own mark will kill him, won’t it?”

  “Close,” Rikkard uttered. “It will cause crippling pain. It will permanently destroy his ability to use any magic, of any class. He will effectively be an invalid. This particular power is exceedingly rare, and the first time he uses it…is on the hero of Fiefdala. I was ready to march back home and throw him out a window when I got word. But that would still leave you in a bind.”

  “Did you ever have that power? I’ve been told marks can be hereditary,” Bonnie pressed.

  “In theory, I do. I’ve never used it, and vowed I never would. It’s cruel, and too dangerous, and can be easily abused.” He let out a soft sigh, fingers clenched on his armrest so tightly, she heard wood creaking.. “Fiona…you deserve better than this. You’re stuck in the middle of a spat between my son and me. And I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of this.”

  “Over what? Over doing trade with Vale?” she demanded.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Precisely,” he growled.

  “How could you do this?” Bonnie asked, her tail tensed along with her claws. “How could you be so irresponsible to let an untested son take the throne? This mess wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you!”

  “All of my children received lessons on how to rule, Miss Revere,” he countered sternly. “Including Barrimeth. Lucy and Edward certainly take after me, but Lucy and I…she...doesn’t like the spotlight of royalty. Edward rose through the ranks of the military, and…he’s quite competent, with a focus on a small, elite task force. He has earned his distinction, without any favoritism.”

  “And you put the source of our current woes in the hot seat,” Darla accused, tail lashing back and forth. “So, when you do finish your little vacation, you best remember who has their literal life on the line!”

  “I know. I have spoken to him and…not pleasant words were exchanged. He won’t be harassing you further than he already has.” Fiona could hear him grinding his teeth, saying that. “Were it so easy to counter his mark, I’d have opened the dungeons one last time to convince him he’d made a grievous error.”

  There’s something he’s not telling us. She knew it, there was something else going on. Rikkard’s hands were tied, and Barry either had something on him, or the stakes were so dire, he couldn’t risk giving the details. She took a deep breath, and tried to do that Greg thing, where he always remained calm and composed. Now, why can’t he tell us? And why can I trust him at all?

  “You are fortunate that Fiona may be able to turn this against him, and negotiate a favorable agreement that doesn’t involve mutual assured destruction,” Greg shot back coldly. “Why should we not run to the counsel that runs Fiefdala and have him booted?”

  “Because that will solve nothing,” Rikkard countered. “If you wanted to attempt that, you’d have done it. And even then, they may not have budged.”

  He then looked at Fiona, and let out a heartfelt sigh.

  “Fiona, I get it. This is awful, and I have no right to ask anything of you. You’re a free spirit, I’ve known you long enough that even I can tell it,” he offered quietly. It soothed her mood, just a little–but not enough to matter. “Barrimeth decided in my stead. As a father–as a king–I had to stand by that decision. Even if it followed the letter of the law, it reeks of violating the spirit of the law.”

  “We’re down to half the value owed, now. Kali is working on getting the assessor, and our expenses and other business-related write-offs are far from fully tapped out,” Greg chimed in. “It is still a rather substantial sum, King Rikkard. This entire debt trap was enacted to enlist Miss Swiftheart–involuntarily, I might add–to drive a deal with a former…rival kingdom.”

  Rikkard let out a growl. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t shown mercy. I should have done what I wanted to do twenty years ago, torched the entirety of Sabitol, and hung every one of those slave traders."

  Fiona sucked in her breath. “Oh, If I’d been here back then, I’d have been going to town with the torching, let me tell you. Slavery is not cool.”

  “No. It’s not. And that kind of foul ownership of folk lives like they’re little more than cattle, has always sat uncomfortably close to home. Too close.” Rikkard frowned and rubbed at his magnificent beard. “I suspect my son thinks the new management is different from the old management. I heard there was an upheaval several months ago, it got bloody, some kind of internal dispute. But, the information was lacking in details on who ended up on the wrong end of a fireball. The best information I heard? Some new summoned took control of Sabitol, and then started redecorating the place violently. Whether they survived the reciprocal strikes by every slave house head, or if they all went up in smoke, is beyond my spy network. Now it’s all shrouded in secrecy.

  “You have spies?” Fiona echoed.

  “All Kings have spies, Fiona. Even within the Unified Kingdoms,” he stated with little emotion. “I don’t like saying it, but we do put people in dangerous places to get us information on unfriendly nations, or worse, actively hostile nations. Across the Aegortin Sea, there is an entire fascist nation-state that thinks it's the world's new empire. Luckily, they’re busy fighting off internal disputes. These are the things that keep me up at night. Or the mundane problems like greedy dragons,” he added with an eye roll.

  “Yeah about that. How did Douglas pose such a threat? We steamrolled him!”

  “I have a theory. Minus his hoard you’re selling to much-needed adventurers, I think he lost the backing of his financiers. And the dragon clans back at home cut him off, too. They do not like the idea of being at war with the Unified Kingdoms, and even dragons aren’t invincible.”

  Greybeard sat back and took a sip from his drink, and handed the empty mug to an attendant, who briefly appeared in the image. “Privately speaking, Fiona…the military has been scaled back in the past twenty years, after the last skirmish with Vale. It's an internal defense force. With the allied treaties with the rest of the Unified Kingdoms we signed right around then, border conflicts became nonexistent. Vale knew they’d get bruised, if they tried again.”

  “So, Douglas was just a threat you were underprepared for?”

  “He claimed we stole land from him. That was preposterous, which is why I didn’t pay any heed until he had his kobolds kicking people out of their homes and laying claim to the land,” he added while folding his hands together.

  Fiona nodded quietly, still processing all this. “You know I’m still pissed at you. You allowed this to happen. It could have been me…or it could have been your friend, Jacob Fervier. He would have been next in line to get the rights to the treasure as the guild head if I bowed out. He could have been just as screwed as me.”

  He nodded grimly. “I know.”

  “I’m gonna be real with you. I don’t trust you much, but you also told me exactly what I needed to know: I can force his hand if he realizes he has made the worst mistake of his life. Don’t ever expect to ask me anything ever again,” Fiona uttered bitterly. “You can be honest. Just say it, your son screwed up. He’s in over his head, he wasted the treasury or the tax funds the kingdom collects. And since he was in that office, he knew how to hide it, up to a certain point. But now, he can’t.”

  “I concur, King Rikkard. The finance irregularities are notable even to us, at our level,” Greg chimed in while furrowing his brow. “Fiona had a contact indicating Barry was putting in custom windows in the castle–and were quite expensive. I am convinced that your son, or some other extraneous source, is–”

  “Mister Lockheed, do be very careful what you say next,” Rikkard warned, in the first full rebuke he had given during the call, his gaze hardened, and all the edges of his face were accentuated. “I suggest you and Miss Swiftheart drop the subject. My son would not steal from his own Kingdom.”

  “And you know this, how?” Greg asked. “After what he’s done, nothing is beyond him.”

  “I caught him doing it once, a small amount. I made him fix the problem for the afflicted party, and told him if he ever did it again, he would never have a spot at my table, to betray the trust of the people of Fiefdala.” The way he clenched his hands as he stated it, was telling to Fiona. “I am not proud to have to say that.”

  “Or, what? That you're too prideful to realize Barry was led astray or is complete asshole?” Bonnie inputted after Rikkard trailed off. “I'm not a parent, but my parents went through a rough time with my younger brother. He got into trouble a lot.”

  “Miss Revere, different situations. A father should love his children, flaws and high points all included,” Rikkard said after a moment. “Misguided as my son is, he is performing somewhat competently. But he has to learn through trial and error.”

  “So you're okay with me flirting with death?” Fiona demanded.

  “No, I’m not okay with this situation. Now, I'm under no illusion this looks and feels anything but awful. My question is this: can you do it? Can you force his hand so he has to agree to your terms?”

  She pondered it for a good, long minute. The implication was unsettling. “I can do it. It won't be easy, and I’ll be eating cheap noodles for a while. My partners still need a livable income, too. And tell him to lay off with a deadline! If your kid is thieving and using me as a shakedown to fix his screw-up, I'll put Greg on the throne when I'm done dunking Barry in the lake, after this is over.”

  “Please don't. Ruling is even more work than you,” Greg groaned. Rikkard regarded him with a scowl–and Fiona.

  “Given the Lockheed family history, that would be exceedingly off-putting. Please don’t,” Rikkard spoke sternly. Rikkard winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know, Fiona, you remind me too much of Lucy. I adore her to pieces, even though she hates everything about the palace. Keep your chin up, I’m going to find other levers to pull.”

  “Better go carpet roll Glados Hennaway and throw her in the Aerris River, while you're at it. She's got Barry wrapped around her finger, and whispering in his ear,” Bonnie interjected, and Rikkard rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, that viper? This is why I can't have a nice retirement, isn't it? I'll see what she's up to,” Rikkard assured her. “Keep the palace from burning down, at a minimum? Oh, and Darla? Can I ask one huge favor?”

  All eyes turned to her, and she let out a low snarling sound. “Oh, absolutely not.”

  “Okay, I deserved that one,” Rikkard conceded. “I don't doubt Miss Swiftheart’s tenacity to solve problems. Even if certain sweets do tend to disappear shortly after visits to the palace,” he added with a light smile. She felt a little called out by that, as Rikkard waved farewell. “And Fiona?”

  “Yes?” She felt her teeth go on edge like he was going to ask one more favor.

  “When this is over…I’ll make it up to you. Somehow. Though, I don’t know what can come close enough to an apology for this level of mess.”

  The relay went dim, and the room got quiet. Rikkard’s parting words were ones she wished she could have heard from her father. She felt a pang of heartache that tightened at her throat before she pocketed the relay. Bonnie noticed her slowness, and tapped her shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

  She was slow to respond and fought back that clawing, choking feeling. “No. I unloaded on him, and I’m not sure if the entire damn family is crooked…or if there’s a bigger problem at work, underneath all this.

  “Hey, for what it's worth, we should all go to the harvest festival in a few days. It’ll be a good opportunity to…well, inject a little brightness into this,” Darla reminded them. “Sheesh. Caught up in a family royalty drama session? The dragon was the easier problem to solve.”

  Fiona nodded quietly, and regarded her friends. “Yes, he was.”

  (Magius acquires the Merchant Class to make the sale...)