Lucina Tolent was a woman who prided herself on her lack of patience.
It was an attribute often linked to the downfall of many a scheme. But for Lady Lucina, it was her greatest strength. The ability to see tasks through and delegate accordingly, earning results in both good time and good effect.
Oh, it would have been all too easy to follow the tried and tested path. To form alliances brokered on testing the limit's of one's social influence, reaching the ears of those above you while exploiting the trembling hands of those who reached for you to save them from the ever present precipice.
But climbing the ever tangled hierarchy of nobility took time.
A considerable amount of time.
The ladder didn't go up. It went sidewards, down, and around and around. A shape crafted by some horror in the abyss designed to ensure that only the slyest of nobility ever rose above their station. And, of course, those with the most time.
And time was not a luxury Lucina Tolent could afford.
Because as the wealthiest woman in Reitzlake, she only stood to become poorer while the rabble grew richer. For Lady Lucina, the iron was always hot. And it was wielded by her rivals and enemies.
She had to strike them down. All of them.
And now there were so few left. So precious few.
For the first time in … how long had it been?
Months? Years?
Why, it wouldn't have surprised her if she'd never smiled since she was old enough to understand indignity. The sheer incompetence that had been displayed by her lord father and lady mother. They'd been the first to go. An unhappy accident with a carriage and a falling mudslide. Then came the rest of her family. Drowning accidents, mostly. But with a few rooftop falls for variety.
Oh, so many accidents in such a small capital city. It was a wonder how she'd made it out unscathed.
And so she smiled, her lips almost creaking as she performed the unfamiliar feat.
It was over now. In Reitzlake at least.
Those below her had been left to flail as they fell while those above her had been silenced into submission. The Contzens were a spent force, led in the royal capital by a prince who was more puppy than man. And the Rimeauxs were now enjoying eternal slumber in the land of dreams or the bottom of a lake.
And greatest of all was that even if the prince decided to cease cowering in his castle, she would simply begin the next stage of her plans.
Lotus House was already prepared to receive her. How the Contzens ultimately responded was irrelevant. They could not dismantle the Smugglers Guild. And now that the guild reigned unchallenged in Reitzlake's streets, whenever the kingdom came, she would be ready. And that's if she even needed to leave.
No … everything was ready.
And she hadn't even tried particularly hard.
Nothing she'd done was noteworthy. Only her judgement was. She knew weakness and fear. Her own family had demonstrated as much.
For years, House Tolent were the mocked money lenders of nobility, more interested in the business of paying for their own extortion than seeking a return on their loans. But Lucina was not content to exchange crowns for temporary safety and the empty plaudits of lesser nobility.
Mudslides and rooftop falls were considerably cheaper. And the interest was much higher.
Now, she sat at the seat of a table previously occupied by the Smuggler King.
And that could only make her one thing.
“From one queen to the next,” said Sir Albert Perrot, raising a glass of the fae wine. “A fine passing gift from the Winter Queen. Golden, as will be your reign as Smuggler Queen.”
He drank the fae wine, no longer caring to sip at the precious commodity.
Or so he believed it to be.
The last of the Winter Queen's golden wine was a priceless gift for her servants. It was nothing compared to the snow wine she herself drank. And Lucina would not waste it on a half-drunk fool whose usefulness was neither in his weak charisma nor his failing swordsmanship. It was in his capacity for duplicity.
Years as a knight had given him more insight into the vices of his peers than even the greatest of spymasters. He knew of more illicit affairs than the mistresses of brothels. And that meant a host of knights at Lucina's beck and call for when the time was ripe.
And when it was, she would ask them to dispose of this charlatan of a knight first.
She knew she wouldn't even need to dangle the stick for that to happen. It was already the carrot.
“She is not the Smuggler Queen yet,” said Baroness Marion Barischt. She sipped at the wine, savouring a warmth as delicate as a harpist's song. “The rank and file need to be cajoled. They've scattered, and will not return to the fold until it's clear that Lady Lucina is firmly in command.”
“And that they shall,” replied Lucina, ensuring her tone held a modicum of respect that only the baroness at the table would receive. “The common hands can no longer function without their arms to guide them. Should they wish to ply their trade, then they will do so with us.”
Baroness Marion pushed her emptied glass away from her. She declined a refill.
“And if the common hands decide to spread their fingers, as is their nature?”
“The safehouses burn. There is nowhere to spread but towards the fire. Let their scalding be a lesson. Reitzlake does not belong to them. It belongs to the guild.”
The baroness nodded, choosing a cup of water over more wine.
A dangerous woman. Hers was a family that had thrived in the underworld when the Smugglers Guild was still young.
She was a baroness by choice, not by station. She had enough patrons to make the leap to ladyship. But such a thing was never what she wanted.
No, she did not desire titles. Merely influence.
A rare breed of nobility. One who desired power, but not the seat. Baroness Marion knew the names of every commoner, nobleman, storekeeper and pet poodle in Reitzlake.
The owner of a vast network of contacts from mercenaries to spies, she was courted by all and thus would survive all. No matter how the War of the Streets resulted, Baroness Marion would have thrived, no doubt by turning the direction of her hired blades.
Sir Albert Perrot was disposable. So too was Baroness Marion. But her turn to meet an untimely drowning accident would come later. She still had use to be squeezed. At least until every corner of Reitzlake was under Tolent control.
Including the castle.
Once again, Lucina let out a smile.
She was a queen in all but name. And the Smugglers Guild was the jewel of her crown. But not for long. Lucina was not content to watch from the sewers as the Rimeauxs had.
Not when those who sat the throne headed a kingdom beset by calamities.
Even now, merchant trading had ground to a halt. Corsairs infested the coastlines. The Withering had swept across the lowlands like a merciless tide. Duke Valence has blockaded the roads into the Duchy of Aquina and set the stage for secession. The Miner's Guild had destroyed the very industry they'd spent their lives working to progress. And in the north …
No, she was not content at all.
Lucina Tolent was not yet done. She had only just begun.
News of House Rimeaux's downfall would shake the nobility to the roots. Aided by the calamities befalling the kingdom, the plentiful officers in the royal guard who relied on her coffers to broaden their stomach lines, and the guarantees of Lotus House, she could sense that the time was ripe.
The time for a Tolent to assume the throne of the Kingdom of Tirea.
Suddenly, a fingertip flicked at the rim of a glass. That it contained the precious fae wine didn't concern the final guest at this table.
“Yes, Reitzlake belongs to the guild,” said Tabitha Renne, her eyes taking in each of those at the table with a casual smile. “And not the Smuggler Queen. Or so your speech went.”
Silence permeated throughout the entire Rimeaux Estate. A servant in the corner edged towards the nearest door.
“What about the words you grandly spoke?” continued Tabitha, blithely unconcerned. “To Renise? Your words were so pretty on the matter, Lucina. Wasn't the removal of a king as the head of our guild why you moved so swiftly to prevent a dictator within our ranks?”
She flicked the fae wine again. Sir Albert visibly tensed. Baroness Marion merely looked annoyed.
“I'm not complaining. Just reminding you to play your story straight. If you want the common hands to follow your lead, then you'll need to prove that you're a defter touch than the Smuggler King was.”
Tabitha pointed at the quivering servants.
“The sooner, the better.”
Lady Lucina's own slight smile vanished.
Tabitha Renne.
A commoner. A true commoner.
She had no wealth, no title and no holdings, and thus no place at this table. And yet here she sat, not even bothering to peer over the rim of her fae wine, almost as though it were some common red at a dockside tavern.
She was an insolent wench of a woman—and also the one Lucina least wanted to kill. Her advice was crude, but sound. A rarity in a world where every word was layered with as much poison as meaning.
She also led the common hands. Even more so than Lord Damien had. Her influence was paramount. Without the hands ferrying goods from ship through sewer, there would be no smuggling to be had, and no wealth for House Tolent.
Without wealth, there would be no throne.
“Lady Lucina!”
All of a sudden, a smuggler burst through the door.
Lucina's personal guard intercepted, raising their black maces to halt him. It wasn't necessary, of course. No one would have been allowed to enter the hall without good cause. Very good cause.
“What is it?” she said, settling back in her new chair while she still could. “Can I not enjoy five minutes of gloating before I'm forced to vacate this seat?”
“Apologies, my lady—but this news. It's urgent!”
The man fumbled between kneeling and bowing. It was an embarrassing sight. He settled on kneeling. No one had ever been beheaded for being overly polite.
Well, not often.
“Very well. Speak and be done with it. What new problem has arisen?”
Lucina hurried the man with a flick of her wrist. There would be issues, of course. Usurping the king of a criminal organisation rarely went without them. But she'd prepared well.
The Thieves Guild were destroyed as a current threat. All the ranking officers of the Smugglers Guild were busy rolling around her pocket for loose crowns. And the dryad she'd set loose in the streets would ensure that any official response to her takeover would be made all the more chaotic until the monster was slain.
By then, she would have solidified her control, and inaction on the castle's part would be the death knell to Contzen authority.
Whether or not they chose to challenge Lucina's weak claim of saving the slumbering Rimeauxs from an attack by the Thieves Guild was largely irrelevant, although she would prefer they faltered even more.
Eventually, Lucina would sound the clarion call for the Contzens to relinquish the throne.
All the nobility she'd quelled and bribed would take to her call. Duke Valence, despite his silence to her letters, would seize the opportunity to declare independence, and that would be that. The Contzens would have two rebellions on their hand.
Her coronation was already set in stone. And there was not a single thing this runner could inform her that would send her plans awry.
“It's Grim, my lady. He's … He's been defeated. By an adventurer. And … And Lady Renise.”
Once again, silence swept across this hall.
This time, it was Lucina who was to break it. She rose from her seat, her expression as stern as the stone beneath her feet.
“What happened?”
She would have clicked her tongue if she were alone.
So her instinct was correct. That shameless drunkard, Lord Oliver Lepre, had attempted to deceive them about the girl's fall.
“It was a battle in the merchant's quarter,” said the runner. “If a battle it could be called, my lady. The adventurer, a girl, she raised her sword and … and then he fell.”
“And then he fell?”
Now Lucina couldn't hide her shock.
Grim. That man was a simpleton. But a simpleton with overwhelming proficiency in combat. His mere presence was enough to persuade faltering allies to her side. People valued strength. And sometimes, that truly just meant strength.
“Lady Lucina,” said Baroness Marion at once. “If Lady Renise is alive, then she must be captured at once. You've yet to consolidate control over the Smugglers Guild. If she flees to the castle—”
“She would have gone already, if that was her choice,” replied Lucina, certain of it. “She has no faith in the castle. Remember that she is also one of us. Running to the guards has never once been a lesson ingrained in her.”
And then, Lucina smiled once again. She'd broken records tonight. She'd break more in the coming days.
“No … she'll want her own vengeance.”
Tabitha Renne flicked her glass again. Lucina was starting to become irritated. Either drink it or not. It was not some musical plaything.
“Adventurers are involved now, Lucina. If the Adventurer's Guild is involved, then that's a lot of nosiness you need to deal with.”
“The Adventurer's Guild is not involved. Their code forbids them from intervening in the affairs of state. And on the surface, this is a matter between nobility.”
“And yet Grim was defeated. If she told them about the Smugglers Guild ...”
Lucina instantly scoffed at the absurdity of the idea.
“Renise would never harm the empire her doting father and mother built up. No, she would make up any claim in a desperate bid to oust us from her home. The moment any adventurer sets foot in this estate, they will see this for what it appears. A tale of political in-fighting. And that will be that.”
Oh, what a foolish young woman she was. Adventurers?
Had she fled to the castle and begged the boy prince to stop cowering, then her plans would need to be accelerated. Not by much. A day perhaps. That would have been a far greater inconvenience than anything Renise hoped to achieve by … whatever this gambit was.
“Even so, we should find her,” said Baroness Marion. “The sooner, the better. She's a loose end, and far more resourceful than we take her to be. I will instruct my own agents to capture her.”
“Unnecessary. I know where she is. Or rather, where she will be.”
Lucina looked at each of those at her table in turn. The night was going as well as could be expected. Still, adjustments needed to be made.
She did not wish to use her trump card just yet.
The literal ace up her … well, she had no sleeve. But it was in her dress.
The playing card left behind by that smirking girl in the bizarre uniform.
Oh, none of these fools knew. They thought her mad, or merely overly ambitious. But Lucina would not strike against the kingdom without greater support than them and a group of hardened criminals.
No, she had the backing of a far greater power.
“Sir Albert, take to the gate. Should any representatives from the Adventurer's Guild come calling, explain the political nature of the situation. Baroness Marion, interrogate Lord Oliver. That man is a greater fool than I thought, but if he has heard more than he should do, I want to know what. Tabitha, search the room where Renise was last seen. There will be a hidden exit. Prepare a welcoming party. If this adventurer is strong enough to defeat Grim in a single strike, then assume she is at least B-rank.”
Tabitha frowned.
“Yeah? And what should I do after assuming she's B-rank? Dance with her? You don't pay me enough to fight someone like that.”
“Then take all my guards. Capture or kill Renise, but if a confrontation is forced with the adventurer, then that many blades will suffice.”
And if Tabitha died in the process … well. That would be unfortunate. Temporarily.
Still, the commoner didn't budge.
“I expect my pay to be doubled.”
“Done.”
“That easy? Tripled.”
Lucina's fingers began rapping against the table. She made herself stop.
“... I expect this matter to be resolved. Fully.”
“Consider it done.” Tabitha rose from her seat. The sheaths for two daggers could be seen by her sides. The ones she'd actually use were elsewhere. “What makes you think she'll even return using the same route she escaped from?”
Lucina took a sip of wine.
“Because she's a smuggler, Tabitha. And smugglers trust in their tunnels more than their wits.”
And besides, it was hardly as though she or this adventurer would just come waltzing in through the front door.
That'd just be idiotic.
Lucina Tolent was a woman who prided herself on her lack of patience.
It was an attribute often linked to the downfall of many a scheme. But for Lady Lucina, it was her greatest strength. The ability to see tasks through and delegate accordingly, earning results in both good time and good effect.
Oh, it would have been all too easy to follow the tried and tested path. To form alliances brokered on testing the limit's of one's social influence, reaching the ears of those above you while exploiting the trembling hands of those who reached for you to save them from the ever present precipice.
But climbing the ever tangled hierarchy of nobility took time.
A considerable amount of time.
The ladder didn't go up. It went sidewards, down, and around and around. A shape crafted by some horror in the abyss designed to ensure that only the slyest of nobility ever rose above their station. And, of course, those with the most time.
And time was not a luxury Lucina Tolent could afford.
Because as the wealthiest woman in Reitzlake, she only stood to become poorer while the rabble grew richer. For Lady Lucina, the iron was always hot. And it was wielded by her rivals and enemies.
She had to strike them down. All of them.
And now there were so few left. So precious few.
For the first time in … how long had it been?
Months? Years?
Why, it wouldn't have surprised her if she'd never smiled since she was old enough to understand indignity. The sheer incompetence that had been displayed by her lord father and lady mother. They'd been the first to go. An unhappy accident with a carriage and a falling mudslide. Then came the rest of her family. Drowning accidents, mostly. But with a few rooftop falls for variety.
Oh, so many accidents in such a small capital city. It was a wonder how she'd made it out unscathed.
And so she smiled, her lips almost creaking as she performed the unfamiliar feat.
It was over now. In Reitzlake at least.
Those below her had been left to flail as they fell while those above her had been silenced into submission. The Contzens were a spent force, led in the royal capital by a prince who was more puppy than man. And the Rimeauxs were now enjoying eternal slumber in the land of dreams or the bottom of a lake.
And greatest of all was that even if the prince decided to cease cowering in his castle, she would simply begin the next stage of her plans.
Lotus House was already prepared to receive her. How the Contzens ultimately responded was irrelevant. They could not dismantle the Smugglers Guild. And now that the guild reigned unchallenged in Reitzlake's streets, whenever the kingdom came, she would be ready. And that's if she even needed to leave.
No … everything was ready.
And she hadn't even tried particularly hard.
Nothing she'd done was noteworthy. Only her judgement was. She knew weakness and fear. Her own family had demonstrated as much.
For years, House Tolent were the mocked money lenders of nobility, more interested in the business of paying for their own extortion than seeking a return on their loans. But Lucina was not content to exchange crowns for temporary safety and the empty plaudits of lesser nobility.
Mudslides and rooftop falls were considerably cheaper. And the interest was much higher.
Now, she sat at the seat of a table previously occupied by the Smuggler King.
And that could only make her one thing.
“From one queen to the next,” said Sir Albert Perrot, raising a glass of the fae wine. “A fine passing gift from the Winter Queen. Golden, as will be your reign as Smuggler Queen.”
He drank the fae wine, no longer caring to sip at the precious commodity.
Or so he believed it to be.
The last of the Winter Queen's golden wine was a priceless gift for her servants. It was nothing compared to the snow wine she herself drank. And Lucina would not waste it on a half-drunk fool whose usefulness was neither in his weak charisma nor his failing swordsmanship. It was in his capacity for duplicity.
Years as a knight had given him more insight into the vices of his peers than even the greatest of spymasters. He knew of more illicit affairs than the mistresses of brothels. And that meant a host of knights at Lucina's beck and call for when the time was ripe.
And when it was, she would ask them to dispose of this charlatan of a knight first.
She knew she wouldn't even need to dangle the stick for that to happen. It was already the carrot.
“She is not the Smuggler Queen yet,” said Baroness Marion Barischt. She sipped at the wine, savouring a warmth as delicate as a harpist's song. “The rank and file need to be cajoled. They've scattered, and will not return to the fold until it's clear that Lady Lucina is firmly in command.”
“And that they shall,” replied Lucina, ensuring her tone held a modicum of respect that only the baroness at the table would receive. “The common hands can no longer function without their arms to guide them. Should they wish to ply their trade, then they will do so with us.”
Baroness Marion pushed her emptied glass away from her. She declined a refill.
“And if the common hands decide to spread their fingers, as is their nature?”
“The safehouses burn. There is nowhere to spread but towards the fire. Let their scalding be a lesson. Reitzlake does not belong to them. It belongs to the guild.”
The baroness nodded, choosing a cup of water over more wine.
A dangerous woman. Hers was a family that had thrived in the underworld when the Smugglers Guild was still young.
She was a baroness by choice, not by station. She had enough patrons to make the leap to ladyship. But such a thing was never what she wanted.
No, she did not desire titles. Merely influence.
A rare breed of nobility. One who desired power, but not the seat. Baroness Marion knew the names of every commoner, nobleman, storekeeper and pet poodle in Reitzlake.
The owner of a vast network of contacts from mercenaries to spies, she was courted by all and thus would survive all. No matter how the War of the Streets resulted, Baroness Marion would have thrived, no doubt by turning the direction of her hired blades.
Sir Albert Perrot was disposable. So too was Baroness Marion. But her turn to meet an untimely drowning accident would come later. She still had use to be squeezed. At least until every corner of Reitzlake was under Tolent control.
Including the castle.
Once again, Lucina let out a smile.
She was a queen in all but name. And the Smugglers Guild was the jewel of her crown. But not for long. Lucina was not content to watch from the sewers as the Rimeauxs had.
Not when those who sat the throne headed a kingdom beset by calamities.
Even now, merchant trading had ground to a halt. Corsairs infested the coastlines. The Withering had swept across the lowlands like a merciless tide. Duke Valence has blockaded the roads into the Duchy of Aquina and set the stage for secession. The Miner's Guild had destroyed the very industry they'd spent their lives working to progress. And in the north …
No, she was not content at all.
Lucina Tolent was not yet done. She had only just begun.
News of House Rimeaux's downfall would shake the nobility to the roots. Aided by the calamities befalling the kingdom, the plentiful officers in the royal guard who relied on her coffers to broaden their stomach lines, and the guarantees of Lotus House, she could sense that the time was ripe.
The time for a Tolent to assume the throne of the Kingdom of Tirea.
Suddenly, a fingertip flicked at the rim of a glass. That it contained the precious fae wine didn't concern the final guest at this table.
“Yes, Reitzlake belongs to the guild,” said Tabitha Renne, her eyes taking in each of those at the table with a casual smile. “And not the Smuggler Queen. Or so your speech went.”
Silence permeated throughout the entire Rimeaux Estate. A servant in the corner edged towards the nearest door.
“What about the words you grandly spoke?” continued Tabitha, blithely unconcerned. “To Renise? Your words were so pretty on the matter, Lucina. Wasn't the removal of a king as the head of our guild why you moved so swiftly to prevent a dictator within our ranks?”
She flicked the fae wine again. Sir Albert visibly tensed. Baroness Marion merely looked annoyed.
“I'm not complaining. Just reminding you to play your story straight. If you want the common hands to follow your lead, then you'll need to prove that you're a defter touch than the Smuggler King was.”
Tabitha pointed at the quivering servants.
“The sooner, the better.”
Lady Lucina's own slight smile vanished.
Tabitha Renne.
A commoner. A true commoner.
She had no wealth, no title and no holdings, and thus no place at this table. And yet here she sat, not even bothering to peer over the rim of her fae wine, almost as though it were some common red at a dockside tavern.
She was an insolent wench of a woman—and also the one Lucina least wanted to kill. Her advice was crude, but sound. A rarity in a world where every word was layered with as much poison as meaning.
She also led the common hands. Even more so than Lord Damien had. Her influence was paramount. Without the hands ferrying goods from ship through sewer, there would be no smuggling to be had, and no wealth for House Tolent.
Without wealth, there would be no throne.
“Lady Lucina!”
All of a sudden, a smuggler burst through the door.
Lucina's personal guard intercepted, raising their black maces to halt him. It wasn't necessary, of course. No one would have been allowed to enter the hall without good cause. Very good cause.
“What is it?” she said, settling back in her new chair while she still could. “Can I not enjoy five minutes of gloating before I'm forced to vacate this seat?”
“Apologies, my lady—but this news. It's urgent!”
The man fumbled between kneeling and bowing. It was an embarrassing sight. He settled on kneeling. No one had ever been beheaded for being overly polite.
Well, not often.
“Very well. Speak and be done with it. What new problem has arisen?”
Lucina hurried the man with a flick of her wrist. There would be issues, of course. Usurping the king of a criminal organisation rarely went without them. But she'd prepared well.
The Thieves Guild were destroyed as a current threat. All the ranking officers of the Smugglers Guild were busy rolling around her pocket for loose crowns. And the dryad she'd set loose in the streets would ensure that any official response to her takeover would be made all the more chaotic until the monster was slain.
By then, she would have solidified her control, and inaction on the castle's part would be the death knell to Contzen authority.
Whether or not they chose to challenge Lucina's weak claim of saving the slumbering Rimeauxs from an attack by the Thieves Guild was largely irrelevant, although she would prefer they faltered even more.
Eventually, Lucina would sound the clarion call for the Contzens to relinquish the throne.
All the nobility she'd quelled and bribed would take to her call. Duke Valence, despite his silence to her letters, would seize the opportunity to declare independence, and that would be that. The Contzens would have two rebellions on their hand.
Her coronation was already set in stone. And there was not a single thing this runner could inform her that would send her plans awry.
“It's Grim, my lady. He's … He's been defeated. By an adventurer. And … And Lady Renise.”
Once again, silence swept across this hall.
This time, it was Lucina who was to break it. She rose from her seat, her expression as stern as the stone beneath her feet.
“What happened?”
She would have clicked her tongue if she were alone.
So her instinct was correct. That shameless drunkard, Lord Oliver Lepre, had attempted to deceive them about the girl's fall.
“It was a battle in the merchant's quarter,” said the runner. “If a battle it could be called, my lady. The adventurer, a girl, she raised her sword and … and then he fell.”
“And then he fell?”
Now Lucina couldn't hide her shock.
Grim. That man was a simpleton. But a simpleton with overwhelming proficiency in combat. His mere presence was enough to persuade faltering allies to her side. People valued strength. And sometimes, that truly just meant strength.
“Lady Lucina,” said Baroness Marion at once. “If Lady Renise is alive, then she must be captured at once. You've yet to consolidate control over the Smugglers Guild. If she flees to the castle—”
“She would have gone already, if that was her choice,” replied Lucina, certain of it. “She has no faith in the castle. Remember that she is also one of us. Running to the guards has never once been a lesson ingrained in her.”
And then, Lucina smiled once again. She'd broken records tonight. She'd break more in the coming days.
“No … she'll want her own vengeance.”
Tabitha Renne flicked her glass again. Lucina was starting to become irritated. Either drink it or not. It was not some musical plaything.
“Adventurers are involved now, Lucina. If the Adventurer's Guild is involved, then that's a lot of nosiness you need to deal with.”
“The Adventurer's Guild is not involved. Their code forbids them from intervening in the affairs of state. And on the surface, this is a matter between nobility.”
“And yet Grim was defeated. If she told them about the Smugglers Guild ...”
Lucina instantly scoffed at the absurdity of the idea.
“Renise would never harm the empire her doting father and mother built up. No, she would make up any claim in a desperate bid to oust us from her home. The moment any adventurer sets foot in this estate, they will see this for what it appears. A tale of political in-fighting. And that will be that.”
Oh, what a foolish young woman she was. Adventurers?
Had she fled to the castle and begged the boy prince to stop cowering, then her plans would need to be accelerated. Not by much. A day perhaps. That would have been a far greater inconvenience than anything Renise hoped to achieve by … whatever this gambit was.
“Even so, we should find her,” said Baroness Marion. “The sooner, the better. She's a loose end, and far more resourceful than we take her to be. I will instruct my own agents to capture her.”
“Unnecessary. I know where she is. Or rather, where she will be.”
Lucina looked at each of those at her table in turn. The night was going as well as could be expected. Still, adjustments needed to be made.
She did not wish to use her trump card just yet.
The literal ace up her … well, she had no sleeve. But it was in her dress.
The playing card left behind by that smirking girl in the bizarre uniform.
Oh, none of these fools knew. They thought her mad, or merely overly ambitious. But Lucina would not strike against the kingdom without greater support than them and a group of hardened criminals.
No, she had the backing of a far greater power.
“Sir Albert, take to the gate. Should any representatives from the Adventurer's Guild come calling, explain the political nature of the situation. Baroness Marion, interrogate Lord Oliver. That man is a greater fool than I thought, but if he has heard more than he should do, I want to know what. Tabitha, search the room where Renise was last seen. There will be a hidden exit. Prepare a welcoming party. If this adventurer is strong enough to defeat Grim in a single strike, then assume she is at least B-rank.”
Tabitha frowned.
“Yeah? And what should I do after assuming she's B-rank? Dance with her? You don't pay me enough to fight someone like that.”
“Then take all my guards. Capture or kill Renise, but if a confrontation is forced with the adventurer, then that many blades will suffice.”
And if Tabitha died in the process … well. That would be unfortunate. Temporarily.
Still, the commoner didn't budge.
“I expect my pay to be doubled.”
“Done.”
“That easy? Tripled.”
Lucina's fingers began rapping against the table. She made herself stop.
“... I expect this matter to be resolved. Fully.”
“Consider it done.” Tabitha rose from her seat. The sheaths for two daggers could be seen by her sides. The ones she'd actually use were elsewhere. “What makes you think she'll even return using the same route she escaped from?”
Lucina took a sip of wine.
“Because she's a smuggler, Tabitha. And smugglers trust in their tunnels more than their wits.”
And besides, it was hardly as though she or this adventurer would just come waltzing in through the front door.
That'd just be idiotic.
