Lucian walked swiftly through the streets toward the Faust family home. In the brief time that the siblings had been out, the city streets had bloomed with life as more and more citizens began their day. Dreading the thought of a line at the tribute, Lucian quickened his pace, flinging open the front door as he reached his destination. He hurriedly gathered the pouch that his parents had left for the tribute and took a deep breath before rushing down the street in a mad dash toward Giadia’s High District. When it came to matters of the Mage Tribute, there was no set requirement for content. Lucian’s family for instance, had always given a share of their profits to the guild. Some though, especially those without the means to give monetarily, found other ways to fulfill their obligations. Payments of artisanal goods, trinkets, and even written works were all just as common. In one particularly unique case, Lucian had even once seen a man give a year of his life in indentured servitude to the guild. It wasn’t so much how you chose to serve the mages, as long as you were recorded in the crown’s ledger you were marked as having done your duty. Lucian wasn’t sure how to feel about the tribute system. On one hand, he understood why the mages required such a high amount of goods, but on the other he wondered why exactly the goods had to come out of pockets of the citizenry. However, in the end, his feelings about the event mattered little. Nothing could compare to the abject torture of having to wait in line.

  From the Faust house, it was a short walk to the border between the Low and High Noble Districts. With Lucian’s quicken pace, it wasn’t longer before his destination began to materialize into view.

  The city of Giadia was split into four sections. Deepest in the city walls was the High Noble District. It was here that the royal palace sat along with the homes of the Empress’s courtiers and other high-ranking officials in Giadian society. Next was the Low Noble District separated from its higher-class neighbor by a heavily guarded inner city wall. The people who lived here were those who had wealth, but not enough of it to be considered the absolute peak of society. Many here were veteran merchant families who had served the city for generations. It was here where Lucian’s family made their home. In the center of the city sat the Merchant Quarter; the social hub of the city. A place where all manners of people gathered together in one singular location. Trade was at the forefront of the capital city’s identity. As such the layout of the city was heavily influenced by the location of the Merchant Quarter. A grand road weaved from the city’s gated entrance leading right to the Quarters’s hallowed ground. Along this path shops that doubled as homes for their owners sat eagerly open, awaiting the flood of patronage from citizens and visitors alike. If one only followed the main road of Giadia, up through the Merchant Quarter and into the High and Low Noble District, they would think the city was a thriving paradise. And indeed that was the exact reason that the crown had demanded that the merchants settle on the main road. It was all a ploy to hide the darker part of the city. Away from the main road, tucked into the frontal corners of the walls sat the slums. These derelict places housed the more unfortunate peasantry of Giadia. Lucian knew little of these places. He knew it produced people like the thieves he’d met the night before, but he’d never visited the areas themselves. His parents' strict warning and the crown’s full-hearted attempt to hide them from sight made sure of that.

  Lucian stepped through crowds of people as he approached the High Noble District’s barrier gate. As he reached the checkpoint separating him from his goal, several members of the Palace Guard stood stoically together, watching over the madness before them. Direct attends of the Empress, their radiant full plate armor was accented with lines of violet and adorned with the dual spear crest of the Garrad royal family. Lucian stepped toward the gate only to have a spear shoved out in front of him, blocking his path. Lucian glanced to his left in the direction that the spear had originated from. Sighing, he prepared himself for the impending headache of being stopped by the guards, but as he stared through the slits of the sallet helmet of the one who had stopped him a hint of recognition flashed before his mind.

  “Well well, if it isn’t Lucian Faust! I can’t just let you by here, you know?”

  “Knight Rada… I see you’re back on barrier guard, what’d you do this time?”

  “Ha! You know how it is, the same as usual! It seems that once again, not everyone looks at my swift sense of justice with a kind gaze.”

  Rada was an old family friend. Her skill as a knight was questionable at best, but she was well-liked among the knights for always completing every task handed to her with an extreme level of passion. Of course, that passion often got her into trouble, but that wasn’t any of Lucian’s business.

  Rada smiled through her helmet and slowly moved the spear out of Lucian’s way.

  “If you’re here to see Prince Hywel he’s over by the fountain. See you later Lucian.”

  Lucian nodded at Rada and headed through the gate before pausing for a brief moment to take in the view. It was by no means the first time Lucian had visited the district, but the majesty of its luxurious layout never ceased to amaze him. Though the Low Noble District was by no means unkempt, when compared to its higher counterpart it paled in comparison. Marble roads flaked with bits of onyx cut paths through the district and led to grandiose manors, their spires reaching high into the clouds. Lucian walked further into the district, stopping in the center of the district where a cascading fountain arrayed with a statue of a knight sat at its peak. The knight was dressed in an intricately engraved set of armor cast in marble. Lucian peered intensely at the armor. The way the comb of the helmet jutted proudly from the helm was characteristically seen in days long since past. The Xesbor represented in this statue's attire was one of myth and legend. An ancient time of great wars fought by heroes and villains, all striving to create their place in the world. Lucian’s mind wandered to that time. Would he have made it in that world?

  “Pah…I’m sure this guy would laugh at me. “You wish to join me, boy? Haha! You couldn’t even beat your sister!”

  “Could you stop staring at my ancestor like you’re planning on killing him? He scares quite easily.”

  Lucian practically jumped out of his skin. Sitting on a bench adjacent to the fountain, was Hywel, chuckling at Lucian’s lack of awareness.

  “Guess I got too entranced, huh?”

  “I’ll say. Though I don’t exactly blame you. You’re an artist, y’know? That armor was practically made for people of your ilk.”

  “It’s quite complex. Though I don’t have much knowledge of armor smithing, I can tell a lot of passion went into it.”

  Hywel nodded as he studied the statue himself.

  “My parents told me about this guy. This is my great-great-great…something or other, Sinjon. He was quite the mage in his day, or so I’ve heard.”

  Lucian looked at Hywel quizzically. He’d passed this statue many a time, but ‘mage’ never crossed his mind.

  “This guy was a mage? Like the ones of the guild?”

  The mages of the empire often forwent armor entirely while amid battle. Even among those who didn’t light armor was the overwhelming choice. The armor of this mage was far more encompassing. Lucian guessed it would’ve weighed about as much as that of a common soldier’s armor.

  “Sir Sinjon was a battlemage. From what I’ve learned of him he helped free humanity in the war against the Seigammal. So, long before any sort of guild would’ve existed.”

  Battlemages were an ancient subclass of mages who fought alongside infantry in frontline combat. Skilled in both magics and weapon craft, they were just as useful as frontline fighters as they were as the rearguard. Conversely, the mages of the current era had little place on the frontlines and often fought amongst themselves in battles separate from the infantry. The winner of these skirmishes was often the decider in the battle as the victorious mages would simply take shots at the undefended infantry until they surrendered. It was for that reason that the tribute system existed in the first place. Without support from the Mage Guild, the Vanarros Empire would simply crumble. Tribute was a small price to play.

  “Speaking of mages, have you submitted your tribute yet?”

  “Nah I just got here, there was a bit of an argument about who’d be taking the tribute today.”

  “Was that why it took you so long to get here?... It was your turn, wasn’t it?”

  “...No comment.”

  Hywel chuckled as the two headed off toward the tribute collector. In a small building toward the western end of the district, the Mage Guild’s collector kept track of each household’s donation and made sure that everyone was paying their proper dues. On a good day, it was an easy enough process, but as Lucian rounded the final corner leading up to the building, he grimaced.

  “Ah, shit…the line’s already halfway out the building…”

  “Guess we’ll be waiting here a while then.”

  “We? It’s not like you have to stay, y’know?”

  “And miss a chance at seeing you slowly lose your mind?... Never!”

  “If this line doesn’t move quickly you’ll get exactly what you asked for, I can’t stand these crowds.”

  Luckily for Lucian, the line moved at a reasonable pace and soon it was his turn to offer tribute. Lucian approached the collector, offering up a curt wave.

  “Family name is Faust.”

  “Ah, Mr. Faust, I was surprised you didn’t get here earlier. You can go ahead and just toss the offering into the bin. The usual amount, yes?”

  “That’s right… So are we good to go?”

  “Yep, have a nice day, Mr. Faust.”

  Lucian nodded and left the building as the collector marked him off on a small ledger they were carrying.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad was it?”

  “Torture. Now come on, let's get away from this crowd.”

  The duo moved away from the collection area and headed to Garrad Palace, home of the royal family. The palace, which served as a shining beacon of the empire’s success, stood high above the surrounding city. Granite-laced walls topped with gargoyles and towering arches engraved with floral patterns placed the palace distinctly apart from the rest of the city. Though the majority of its grounds were off limits to outsiders, Lucian was let right through without a second thought, the presence of the crown prince guaranteed that. Upon his first few visits to the palace some years ago, Lucian was often overwhelmed by the prospects of entering such an exclusive area. The way the guards would glare at him, a small child at the time as if he was a potential threat was quite intimidating. It was only through the persistent urging of Hywel that he would gather up enough courage to enter. Now though, that sentiment was all but extinct. As it was, many in the Palace Guard came to recognize him over the years, and as he and Hywel winded through the palace toward the central garden more than one of them greeted him kindly.

  The central garden of Garrad Palace was one of Lucian’s favorite spots on the grounds. Vibrant colors from exotic flowers burst forth and engulfed the area in a rainbow of natural beauty. It was peaceful and quiet here, the only sound coming from the cheerful chirps of birds. Lucian closed his eyes and savored the calming atmosphere.

  “I hate it, Lucian…”

  Lucian’s eyes shot open as he glanced at Hywel. From the moment they’d entered the palace, the friendly demeanor that Hywel had held outside gradually diminished into one of strict contempt.

  “The tribute?”

  “Yes, the tribute! Ugh, I can’t stand paying those utter fools!”

  “Yes, you’ve said MANY times before.”

  “Yeah, I know, but every time I have to put on a stupid facade about it, I lose more and more of my sanity! Me, having the gall to tell you it wasn’t that bad… Ha! Do you know many times I’ve thought about just spitting in the face of that accursed tribute collector?”

  “A lot?”

  “A lot!”

  “Well, Hywel, if you’re going to spit in anyone’s face, let it be an actual mage and not the poor collector. They’re just doing their job.”

  “Those bastards in the Mage Guild don’t need our things. I know I’ve got it good, but what about the less fortunate?! Having to give up so much just for some magicians, it’s almost comical!”

  “Look, I can see things from your perspective, really, but I see the mage’s perspective too. It’s not like they don’t put the tribute to good use. They-”

  “If it’s so important they can get it themselves!... Hear me well, Lucian, when I’m emperor, I’ll be abolishing this unjust tribute system, mark my words!”

  “Hmm… You wouldn’t be the first to try, Hywel…”

  At once the atmosphere in the garden shifted. The intruding voice held a smooth, authoritative tone to it that Lucian knew could only belong to only one man in Giadia. Dropping to a knee, Lucian bowed his head toward the direction of the voice.

  “Lucian Faust… Get off your knee. There’s no reason for you to bow to me in a place like this!”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Ah, sorry sir! Seems I still get caught off guard by you sometimes.”

  Lucian stood tall and gazed at the man before his eyes. Facing him was none other than Emperor Emrys Garrad, second in command of the Vanarros Empire. Emrys Garrad was a towering man with neatly reddish-blonde hair and a full beard. His formidable size and powerful voice were alone enough to intimidate even the most brave-hearted of warriors, which gave the Emperor a rather fearsome reputation among those who were not close to him. His true nature though, couldn’t have been further from that. As a matter of fact, there were few in the empire who could match the emperor’s noble heart. He was immensely proud of his place in society and cared deeply for his subjects. Nonetheless, there were few who would dare question the power the emperor wielded.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, Lucian. I hope all is well with Jacob and Sapphira.”

  “They’re doing just fine sir, thank you.”

  In the midst of their exchange of pleasantries, Hywel stood silent, his face stuck in perpetual suspense. When he finally addressed his father, his voice was meek and fringed with a creeping sense of anxiety.

  “F-Father…I…I apologize for my insubordination.”

  Emrys gave Hywel a perplexed look and sighed.

  “What is the matter with the two of you? Treating me like I’m some kind of god when I’m in the garden of my own home. I assure you I am no stickler when it comes to proper etiquette, I get enough of that already. Lucian, I’ll give you a pass, but Hywel… you're my own son for goodness sake!

  “I… understand Father, I just know that conversations about the Mage Guild aren’t…”

  Hywel trailed off as his eyes moved toward Lucian.

  “It’s fine. While it’s true that your mother and I are having some disagreements about the guild, it has little to do with the tribute system. However, to your point, I readily admit that a system that adds an additional tax to my people isn’t ideal.”

  “In that case, why haven’t-”

  “Let me finish son. As Lucian had begun to explain before you so rudely interrupted him, it is not as if the tribute’s purpose is to line the pockets of the guild’s members. The mages have a stark need for metals. Our tributes provide exactly that, either directly or indirectly through tradeable commodities. In exchange, they offer us protection on the battlefield. It is fully a relationship of mutual benefit.”

  Lucian nodded in agreement.

  “They use a lot of the items they receive for weapon production. A lot of it is sent to my family to be burned down and made into molds. I don’t know enough about magic to know exactly how it works, but apparently, metals are especially good for holding magical properties. In that way, I’d say the offerings are put to good use.”

  Hywel listened intently to Lucian and his father’s arguments, but his expression remained unsure. When they had finished Hywel smiled for the first time in some while before clasping his hands together in satisfaction.

  “Thank you both for your opinion. It is always nice to hear a strong dissenting opinion. However, my opinion on the matter remains unchanged. I am sure there is another way to resolve the need for magical artifacts without singling out the citizenry.”

  Emrys smiled brightly and placed his hands on Hywel’s shoulders.

  “Good on you, son! It always makes me proud to see how keen you are to remain strong toward your beliefs. That is the truest trait of one destined to inherit the Garrad dynasty!”

  “Of course Father! I will make you and Mother proud. There is nothing more important in this world. ”

  Hywel and Emrys were similar in many ways, but it was their noble spirit that Lucian believed made them most alike. Hywel was a staunch believer in the power of legacy and Lucian had no doubt he’d be a fine emperor one day.

  “I tell you what, Hywel. If you write an official report regarding your complaints about the guild I’ll let you present it in front of the Empress. Does that sound fair?

  “You don’t think she’ll find it a waste of time?”

  “Hywel! I knew you were always quick to put us above most, but are you quite mad? She’s your own mother!”

  “Of course, Father! It’s just…”

  Hywel glanced toward Lucian once more.

  “Nevermind. I can talk about this another time. Lucian doesn’t need to hear about a matter such as this.”

  “I can leave if you’d like. In fact, I probably should be going anyway. I’m sure there’s work to be done at the store.”

  “No that’s quite alright, take your time. You can leave whenever you-”

  Suddenly, the door leading to the palace garden burst open.

  “Emperor Emrys, I’ve come bearing news from the Rose-... I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

  A woman had now entered the garden, huffing and puffing like she’d been running for the last hour. Lucian didn’t recognize her and from the look on Hywel’s face, neither did he. Her appearance was quite striking. She had snowy white hair and an eyepatch covering her right eye. The uncovered eye was a deep shade of violet. Her outfit too was rather unique, a style of light leather that Lucian had never seen before. Any way he looked at it, she was an anomaly. As it was, Emrys looked a bit like an anomaly himself. His face was bright red and a vein nearly popped from his forehead.

  “How many times do I have to tell you… Do NOT bother me when I am not actively on duty! Get out of here and go pester my wife!”

  “S-Sorry sir, you’re just the first person I spotted… I’ll… go now and report to her immediately! My apologies!”

  Leaping back the woman sprinted back through the door and deeper into the palace. Emrys sighed.

  “I apologize for that, boys. There is just so much we must keep an eye on these days that we’ve taken to hiring fools. Though… I suppose I should go and see what it was she had to say.”

  “Yes, I should be going to. Until we meet again sir!”

  “Of course, do give my regards to Jacob and Sapphira. I shall be commissioning some new work from them shortly.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell them, thank you. See you later, Hywel.”

  Lucian left the garden and back toward his home. The High District was still bustling with people forcing Lucian to duck and weave through the absentminded masses going about their mid-morning routines. Lucian left the district through the checkpoint gate before turning down one of the more well-traveled roads and heading straight into the Merchant Quarter. Though officially a part of the Low Noble District the Merchant Quarter was almost a separate entity entirely. The early morning hecticness of the shopkeepers was nothing compared to the absolute madness of people flooding the streets now.

  “For the love of the empire!!... I hate these damned crowds!”

  Lucian had seen this coming. It was a problem of his own making. If he had simply taken responsibility he could’ve avoided this mess entirely. Instead, there he was, muttering curses as passersby narrowly avoided bumping into him. Lucian had figured the route he had chosen would’ve been quicker then simply going through the Low Noble District itself, but the sheer amount of people made his choice a flawed one.

  After tripping over feet multiple times and nearly being run over by a horse-drawn cart Lucian finally reached a clearing in the madness where he could rest for a moment. Scanning the mostly empty area Lucian realized he’d waded his way into the section of the quarter where traveling merchants set up temporary stalls while visiting the city.

  “Thank goodness they’re not in town!”

  Just as Lucian had steadied himself enough to re-enter the swathes of people, there was a sudden commotion behind him. Reeling around to face the sudden outburst, Lucian gazed tensely as a stream of people scrambled to get out of the way. As a path cleared a cloaked figure rushed past Lucian, followed swiftly by a knight clad in the armor of the Palace Guard. The figure clambered over one of the temporary stalls and flung a stool placed behind it at the knight. The knight took a blow directly to the chest and stumbled for a moment buying the figure precious time. Unfortunately for the pursued, they had unknowingly backed themself into a corner. The temporary stalls bordered the district’s outer walls and the only way to escape was back the way they’d came. To their left stood the knight, now quickly recovering from the stool they’d taken directly to the chest. To their right…stood Lucian. Transfixed on the spectacle of the chase, he’d not moved from his place of rest. Lucian slowly began to realize his situation as the figure faced him, their back bent slightly in a threatened stance. Lucian took a step back realizing the implied hostility of the figure's posture.

  “Wait a moment, I don’t want any trouble I was just-”

  “Sorry, nothing personal.”

  The figure charged him, unsheathing a strange, single-edged curved sword. Lucian had only seen swords like this in books about foreign weaponry. Far from the broadswords of the Imperial Army, this blade held a certain elegance to it. Of course, the awe Lucian felt was quickly sullied by the realization that the target of this foreign blade was him.

  “Shit, pull yourself together Lucian this is the real thing!!!”

  Snapping out of his trance at lightning pace, Lucian ripped his training sword from its hilt and moved to block the rapidly approaching strike.

  THWACK

  Though his sword had been heavily splintered by Ophelia earlier that morning, Lucian was able to position his blade at just the right angle to block the incoming attack. Sliding back on his heel Lucian swung the broken blade and grazed the figure's arm. Ignoring the glancing blow, the figure disengaged and faced Lucian head-on. The two locked eyes and waited for each other’s next attack. Though Lucian was unable to get a clear glimpse at the figure’s cloaked face, he could feel the intensity of their eyes as they prepared to attack once more. The figure sprinted toward Lucian, cocked back in a striking position as Lucian planted his feet in a defensive stance. The slash came at an inhuman pace, upward from left to right, yet Lucian was able to find the exact position best suited for blocking the attack.

  “Haha, too slow for me!... Wait, no…!!!”

  His eagerness had once again been his downfall.

  “That strike was a bluff!... The real one is…Dammit!”

  In assuming the position best suited for blocking the bluffed attack, Lucian had inadvertently left himself wide open for the real one. In a move nearly mirroring his fight with Opehlia, Lucian desperately tried to move his stance to block the incoming blow, but it was far too late.

  “Why can’t I do anything right…”

  “UUHHHRAAA!!”

  From Lucian’s peripheral a suit of obsidian black armor hurled itself toward the figure with a guttural roar. With a crash, the figure was sent flying into one of the empty stalls breaking the furniture in two and leaving them sprawled out on the ground.

  “You all right kid?... Sorry, I let that get out of hand.”

  The knight’s armor was even more splendid than Lucian had previously thought. In addition to the violet accents that normally adorned the Palace Guard’s armor, this particular set was engraved with deep green floral patterns. The patterns were an unmistakable calling card to the armor’s owner.

  “Hey wait a minute, I know you!... Lucian Faust! Oh, by The Five, they’d have my head if you’d been killed!”

  “Sir Esmund…You saved my life.”

  Lucian wobbled a bit as he came to terms with just how close he’d been to reaching death’s door. The man at his side was Esmund the Swordbearer, captain of the Palace Guard and personal friend to the Garrad family. Lucian had met the man on several occasions and knew him to be a great leader, hellbent on riding Giadia of its criminal population, sometimes to the point of overkill.

  Esmund hastily removed his helmet revealing coffee-brown hair tied back in a messy braid and prominent mutton chops. His eyes, a light shade of brown, clouded with concern as he checked over Lucian’s condition.

  “You should sit Lucian, a close scrape with death like that is enough to make anyone uneasy.”

  “...I’ll be fine. More importantly, focus on your target…”

  “Huh? Oh!”

  In Esmund’s distracted state, the figure had wobbled to their feet and resumed a battle-ready stance. Esmund chuckled under his breath and tossed his helmet to the ground.

  “That’s quite bold of you, returning to your feet in my presence. It’s just too bad it matters not. Surrender yourself, thief! That sword won’t cut through my armor. If you set down your weapon now I promise to take you in civilly. If not…I will break every bone in your body.”

  When no response came from his opponent Esmund smirked and stanced himself in a readied position.

  “Very well. Come at me then!”

  The thief charged Esmund and swung their blade toward the captain’s exposed head. Without delay, Esmund raised one arm to protect. The blade connected squarely with his right forearm, and deftly bounced off without making so much as a dent in the armor. With his free hand, Esmund sent a wild punch that landed squarely with the thief’s head. With a deafening thud the thief crumpled to the ground, their sword landing harmlessly beside them. With his objective complete, Esmund dusted off his hands and picked up the sword studying it closely.

  “Now this is quite the blade, wonder if you stole this too… Hey Lucian, you ever seen anything like this?”

  “Only from books on the islands east of here… Never in person though…”

  By now Lucian had mostlyregained a calm state, but his brush with death still lingered slightly in his head.

  “That’s two days in a row now where I’ve gotten way too close to death. I really need to stay indoors for the next few days.”

  “Hmph, interesting…Well, I haven’t seen any reports of missing blades recently, so, why don’t you have this one, Lucian?”

  “Really? Isn’t it evidence or something?”

  “Meh it’d just be a waste locking it up in the archives. A blade as fine as this should be wielded by one as talented as you.”

  “Talent? I almost died.”

  “But you didn’t and in the end that’s all that really matters. Take it from a man called “The Swordbearer,” you’ve got skill.”

  “...I…see. Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of it.”

  Lucian wasn’t sure how much he believed the captain’s words, but he’d be a fool not to accept such an esteemed compliment. Shaking his head he took the sword from Esmund’s hands and gave it a few swings. It was a bit awkward in his grasp, but Lucian could feel the potential within it. It would take sometime getting used to, but Lucian was sure he could gain a grasp on how to wield it.

  “At the very least, it’s not a bad thing to learn a few different sword techniques.”

  By now the crowd of people that had fled the scene during the skirmish had returned to the area and begun gawk at the display before them, muttering amongst themselves about the downed thief.

  “By order of the Palace Guard, I demand you clear the area! Go! Shoo!”

  Esmund desperately tried to ward off onlookers as Lucian studied his new blade.

  “It truly is a unique piece of equipment. I wonder where the thief could’ve acquired such a thing?”

  “Sir Esmund, where exactly-”

  “Hold on a minute kid… Yeah, this is the one. Just throw ‘em in the dungeon and we’ll figure it out later.”

  Four more knights of the Palace Guard had entered the scene and successfully sectioned off the area from the public. Esmund began to bark out orders and soon the thief had been tied up and hoisted up on the shoulders of one of the other knight. The knight gave a nod to Esmund before taking off down the street with another in tow. When the two had moved out of sight, Esmund placed his hand on his head and gave an exasperated look toward the two remaining knights.

  “Ugh, I may have hit that runt a little too hard… They were still out cold when we tied them up.”

  “Eh, not like it wasn’t deserved… Bastard was givin’ us the runaround the entire morning.”

  “Speaking of that, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did they steal?”

  The two knights tilted their heads at Lucian, clearly confused by his inquiry.

  “Steal?... Hey, Esmund what’s he talking about?”

  “Ah, that’s on me. I called them a thief to protect our investigation, Lucian. Truthfully we don’t know exactly what their purpose is, only that there’s more than one of them running around at the moment. As for what our running theory is…Hmph, sorry, but I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

  “That’s fine, sir, thank you for telling me as much as you did.”

  “And thank you for your help, Lucian. You did the Palace Guard a huge favor today. I won’t forget it.”

  Lucian gave Esmund a light bow before suddenly remembering why he’d been in the Merchant Quarter to begin with.

  “Umm…Is it alright if I take my leave? I was just on my way home when this whole thing went down…”

  “Of course, we know where to find you if we need you. See you later, Lucian.”

  Lucian bowed and turned to resume his journey home.

  “I’m already late as is. Mother and Father are going to be furious…”

  Suddenly, Esmund called out to him.

  “Be safe Lucian!”

  Lucian bowed toward the captain once more.

  “Something’s not right…”