Sui Writes

Category: Blades of Ashes

  • Blades of Ashes Ch 4-2

    Arc 1- The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 4-2

    Gesi Ajai carried a pail filled with fresh water with his right hand and a scoop with his left. He walked along the long benches of his greenhouse watering rows of tomato plants, eggplants, and spinach. His eldest daughter was partial to the tomatoes, so he always watered them well, determined to keep their house in stock.

    Gesi did not pause when a knock came on the greenhouse door. He kept working and only glanced up to see his trusted confidant walking along the rows of tomatoes growing in neat pots along the benches.

    “Good afternoon, Lord Ajai,” Sazama said, pausing by a tomato plant with a set of five green tomatoes. He studied the fruit with keen interest.

    “Afternoon, Sazama,” Gesi said, as he kept watering the eggplants.

    Gesi took the time to study Sazama.

    Sazama was thirty-seven this year. He had no family, was not married, and had no children. Gesi was twenty-three years old and living in Witia State in the South-West of the Lyria Empire when he met Sazama.

    Gesi was an impressionable scholar at the time. He had passed the empire’s state exams and earned his place working in the agricultural office of Witia State. Thanks to the government job, Gesi worked hard and made enough money to uplift himself from scholarly poverty. He paid off those who helped him on the way up and got justice from those who had wronged him.

    Feeling content, Gesi made a friend in the government office. A righteous scholar who worked for the Ministry of Justice in Witia State. His name was Tajan. Tajan had one younger brother he doted on, but Gesi particularly liked how passionate Tajan was about his work. Their bond grew fast, and Gesi found himself spending a lot of time at Tajan’s family home. He met Tajan’s younger brother, Sazama, and was accepted into their brotherhood of two.

    Then, in the course of his work, Tajan stumbled into a powerful opponent. A magistrate from the Capital City Genad. Tajan looked up to this powerful magistrate and often visited him when he was in Witia. On one of Tajan’s visits to the magistrate’s compound to visit the powerful lord, he accidentally discovered a sinister plot.

    Gesi frowned, watching Sazama reach out to touch the ripest of the tomatoes. He fought the urge to snap at the young man, but it was difficult. It was difficult.

    “I won’t take it off,” Sazama said. “I know you keep them for Naeri. She is a lucky girl, your daughter. It must be nice to have such a doting father.”

    Gesi paused in the act of pouring water for a spinach plant. He studied Sazama openly, mulling over Sazama’s wistful tone.

    Once again, the tone was understandable. After all, Sazama had once known a deep caring affection from his older brother, Tajan. Dear Tajan who discovered a plot designed to murder Basileus Rokas. Tajan’s righteous nature drove him on a wild ride to the capital city determined to report the plot. He wanted to connect with the Basileus’s office and report a crime, but he was caught before he could get out of Witia State.

    Gesi Ajai had accompanied Tajan on the road to the capital city. That day, he met the powerful Dowager Basilinna.

    “What is your dream?” she asked him, as he watched Tajan die in the middle of a wild forest.

    The Dowager Basilinna’s voice had sounded bored as she watched him tremble with grief and anger. Her legion guards standing behind Gesi with sharp daggers ready to end his life in the same way as they dispatched Tajan.

    “Do you want to keep your life?” Dowager Basilinna asked him with an indifferent tone.

    “Yes,” Gesi remembered saying his voice trembling, despite the grief and anger. The determination to live overcame his grief.

    “Then, you will join my cause from now on,” Dowager Basilinna said with a dismissive tone.

    Gesi watched her walk away with her guards assured of his obedience. She did not look back once, not even to confirm if Tajan was truly gone. Her legion guard left him kneeling with a dead Tajan lying on a muddy patch in the middle of the forest. A demon grew inside him that night, even as he gathered Tajan’s body and placed it on a horse. A desire to have enough power to escape having to submit to Basilinna’s whims filled him until it was all he could think about at every meal, and when he lay down to rest.

    This mad desire to be strong overtook his being, so much so that when he brought Tajan’s cold body to Sazama, he infected him with the same desire. The need to be strong, not to have to bow to others, and Sazama wanted revenge for his beloved brother’s death.

    He was twenty-three years old when Tajan died. Now, here they were, thirty years later, on the verge of accomplishing their goals. Gesi smiled and glanced at Sazama.

    “You can take two from the pile,” Gesi said, thinking it was good to spoil Tajan’s little brother once in a while.

    Sazama smiled as he reached for the ripest one and wiped it on his black tunic.

    “Why did you visit me?” Gesi asked, finishing with the spinach plants.

    “We have movement,” Sazama said, biting into his tomato. He only took one and moved to lean on a workbench laden with empty pots. “The Basileus has installed General Maenaer in his offices at the palace. He has given him the job of being a military liaison.”

    “The Marquis from Draeya is trouble,” Gesi frowned. “How is the inspector-general managing the case of the counterfeit silver?”

    “The clues are pouring in,” Sazama said. “The assayer has identified Sura Clan ore as the source. This matter will be reported at court tomorrow morning.”

    “Good,” Gesi nodded in approval.

    “Hulan has sent a message from the port,” Sazama said. “A complication. Draeya General has shown up at the port magistrate’s office with a member from the Sura Clan. They have recorded a case of theft for the ore.”

    Gesi chuckled and put away his pail, and the scoop on a small rack in the corner. He picked up a small towel hanging on the rack and used it to wipe his hands.

    “Why do you laugh?” Sazama asked.

    “Draeya General is amusing. He feels if the case is reported, the Sura Clan can escape. I can’t let that happen though after working so hard.”

    “Why do you need their workshops?” Sazama asked. “We can always make do with the income coming from our enterprises in Witia State.”

    Gesi Ajai folded the rug he used to wipe his hands and placed it on the rack. He started a stroll between the aisles, checking for illnesses and pests on the plants. Worms could decapitate an entire grow. He did not want to risk it.

    “The Sura Clan has workshops at ideal points along the streets of Genad Capital. I need the amount of money they rake in a day,” Gesi said, pausing to study a tomato that was struggling to keep up with the others. “I need the wealth if I’m to enter the Minister of Finance office.”

    “Now what?” Sazama asked.

    “Now, we push the case for the resolution of the counterfeit silver case,” Gesi Ajai said. “Make the necessary preparations to find the Sura cargo carriages. A raid on one of their busiest workshops should produce coin molds. The Inspector-General will take it from there. At the least their license to trade in the city will be canceled, at worst and best for me, the head of the clan will be charged with treason.”

    “What about Draeya General?”

    “He’s not someone we can offend, we’ll work faster and make sure by the time he arrives in the capital, the case is concluded,” Gesi said, uprooting the struggling tomato plant. “Our plans must be concluded. Clean out loose ends.”

    Sazama nodded and looked around the greenhouse.

    “I’m sure Naeri will be excited to discover you have planted juicy tomatoes for her,” Sazama said.

    Gesi sighed.

    “I hope it makes her smile because I’m about to push her into a life decision that may change her life,” Gesi said.

    “You’ll marry her to Basileus Dio?” Sazama asked. “Are you sure?”

    “We need to gain closer footing with the ruling family,” Gesi said. “Marriage is an easy bloodless method. Naeri will make a beautiful Basilinna.”

    Sazama studied him for a moment, then nodded and started to head out of the greenhouse.

    “I better hurry to clean up loose ends. Otherwise, it will be difficult to vet a Basilinna from your house, Lord Ajai,” Sazama said with a smile.

    “Then do it well,” Gesi said, holding Sazama’s gaze. “Meanwhile, I’ll help Naeri meet the Dowager Basilinna. The Dowager will help us plan a meeting between Naeri and Basileus Dio.”

    Sazama nodded. “Good luck Lord Gesi.”

    Gesi watched Sazama leave the greenhouse. He walked around to the tomato plant Sazama had touched and studied the three fruits remaining on the plant. There had been five. Sazama must have taken a second one as he left.

    Gesi scowled and reached for the pot. He carried it to the work table and proceeded to destroy the plant and the remaining tomatoes to small bits with a hammer. He threw the mess into the compost pit under the worktable. He placed the now empty pot into a pile of unused pots and took in a deep calming breath. Better, nothing was worse than half-baked or ruined, it was not the same.

    He looked up when he heard a soft knock and stared at his eldest daughter, Naeri Ajai. She was beautiful this morning. Her long blonde hair fell down her back in silky waves. She was dressed in a red dress with a fitted bodice and long skirts that swept to the floor in layers of fine tulle. Naeri was always radiant, but her wary expression as she watched him made him pause.

    Gesi wondered if she had seen his temper on the tomatoes Sazama ruined.

    “Naeri.”

    “Afternoon, Dad,” Naeri said. “I—you called for me?”

    Gesi bit back his scoff. Her shaky voice betrayed her. She had seen his temper. He weighed how much the revelation bothered him and found that he was not so worried. Naeri would be Basilinna soon. She would need to handle courtiers and a cruel Dowager Basilinna. His temper could be considered the least of her worries.

    “Go prepare,” Gesi said to Naeri. “We have to visit someone important this evening. Make sure to hold your hair in a style that reveals your face. Don’t disappoint me.”

    Naeri studied him for a minute more.

    “Alright, Dad,” she said, then turned and left the greenhouse.

    Gesi listened as she broke into a run, her heels rapping a frantic beat on the wooden path leading to the main house, and he let out a sigh.

    Children were so difficult to manage.

    ******

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 4-1

    Arc 1- The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    4-1

    “Sir,” Azula said, facing the magistrate of the Naga Port Town. “I’m here to report a series of thefts.”

    “Yes, you’ve already said that,” the magistrate said, his attention on the bowl of grapes on the desk before him. He sorted them out, one by one, removing skins and piling them on a small saucer.

    Azula frowned at the habit.

    Who peeled grapes?

    The magistrate’s office was a hall with six other desks arranged around the room. Six officers sat at their desks, each one busy. Not with matters of the magistrate’s office. Oh no, that would be too much to ask of this lot.

    One read a book, laughing as he ate peanuts from a bowl on his desk. Another was busy assembling a miniature boat on his desk. Azula would have admired his concentration in a different setting. Three were sleeping. The last one watched him while he chewed on a stick.

    Azula returned his gaze to the rotund man sitting behind the official magistrate’s desk. The magistrate’s face was round and soft, like a fresh bun from the oven. His hair was receding leaving him with an impressive bald spot at the top of his head. His dark brown hair was still held in a ponytail.

    The magistrate’s uniform was a rich purple tunic and a matching jacket decorated with gray embroidery on the sleeves and the collars. A medal of his office was pinned to the lapel of the embroidered jacket.

    Azula could not see more of the magistrate because he sat behind his mammoth desk. He looked overly fascinated with the grapes he was peeling.

    “Sir,” Azula said.

    “Consider the problem reported,” the Magistrate said, picking up the saucer filled with peeled grapes.

    Azula winced when he started eating them in a handful. Grape juice trailed down between the magistrate’s fingers and he wondered how this man kept his office.

    The magistrate smiled wide at Azula.

    “We’ll do our best to catch the thief.”

    “Don’t you want to know what is stolen?’ Azula asked, a frown creasing his forehead.

    Azula looked back at the open doors of the magistrate’s office. Four soldiers guarded the entrance. They each held a spear and wore a sword, ready to defend their magistrate’s office at any sign of trouble.

    “What is stolen?” the Magistrate asked, though he was not interested. He ate another handful of grapes and looked at Azula with a bored expression.

    Azula cursed Draeya General under his breath for the hundredth time. Thirty minutes ago, when he and Sennin finished eating, they got up to leave the table. Azula wanted to return to the ship to start preparations for unloading the carriage. However, the moment they stepped outside, Draeya General’s lieutenant arrested Sennin and asked their legion brothers to hold him.

    Shocked, Azula turned to Draeya General.

    ‘If you want your friend released you will go to the magistrate’s office with me. Report the theft of your ore.’

    Draeya General did not give him an option. He kept walking with eight of his legion officers following him. Haedor, the brute, gripped Azula’s left arm and dragged him away from the inn. Poor Sennin was held by the rest of Draeya General’s legion.

    When they got to the magistrate’s office, Draeya General pushed him to enter alone.

    Azula cursed under his breath. If Draeya General was going to help him, why insist on him reporting to the magistrate? Everyone knew the magistrate did not care to investigate cases that did not benefit him.

    Azula took in a deep breath and prayed for patience.

    “Our Sura Clan’s cargo carriages have been hijacked six times on the road to the Capital City. The thieves have murdered twelve drivers and taken our ore. We seek the government’s help,” Azula said, looking at the Magistrate.

    “That is a sadness,” the Magistrate said with a nod, staring at Azula.

    His expression had not changed. It felt like Azula was reporting that the sun had risen this morning and was now overhead. Azula fought a scowl.

    “And what do you think our magistrate’s office can do to help?”

    “Start looking for the thieves?” Azula suggested.

    “Hm,” the Magistrate said with a nod. “Yes, that is a very good idea. But…”

    Azula frowned when the Magistrate trailed off and glanced at the man chewing on a stick.

    “But what, Hulan?” the Magistrate asked.

    “If the thieves are so vicious as to murder twelve drivers, how can our office of four officers help?”

    “Yes, exactly,” the Magistrate said, smiling at Azula. “It sounds perilous.”

    Azula started counting back from a hundred. His temper would not help him here. There was Sennin to save and he had cargo to offload at the docks, and a journey to Genad City to complete. He could not be arrested here.

    “Will you record the crime?” Azula asked.

    “Oh,” the Magistrate said, with a nod. “Yes. I guess we should note it down somewhere. Don’t worry. We’ll get it down as soon as Siva wakes up. He had a difficult night last night. His wife gave birth to twins and they do not get enough rest in their house anymore. It’s all the crying. I say, babies and wives should live in one residence, while the husband lives in a nice quiet room. But that’s me. What do you think?”

    Azula cursed under his breath, forgetting to count down his temper.

    Clenching his fists, he started to take a step forward, determined to shove the remaining unpeeled grapes into the magistrate’s mouth. The imbecile deserved it, what a horrendous idiot.

    A commotion started before he could reach the magistrate’s desk, and he turned to find Draeya General entering the office with his lieutenant and legion officers. They were fully armed and looked like warmongers.

    Two of the legion officers used their sword handles to hit the desks of the magistrate’s officers, startling them to attention. The sleepy officers fell out of their chairs and stood when they saw legion officers with panic in their eyes.

    Hulan, who had answered the magistrate earlier, stood at attention staring at the ground hoping to go unnoticed.

    Azula frowned.

    Hulan was suspicious. His stance looked confident even as he lowered his head in the presence of Draeya General. His eyes watched Draeya General with intent. A slight smile curved his lips. Azula’s frown deepened, but he had no time to dwell on why.

    The magistrate dropped the plate he held on the floor making a mess of his peeled grapes as he stood up with a gasp. His eyes looked like white balls as they took in Draeya General’s eventful entry.

    Azula frowned at Draeya General who came to stand next to him with casual grace.

    The general wore his formal coat. The black coat with its gold embroidery announced his station and rank. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he studied the magistrate with interest. His legion officers were busy intimidating the surprised magistrate officers on each side of the room.

    “Why did you make me come in here if you were going to follow me?” Azula asked, with annoyance. “Making me report a crime to this idiot before you can help me. Did you want to watch me turn into a fool?”

    “It was interesting watching you try to look humble. Don’t insult yourself by calling yourself a fool, Chieftain’s son,” Draeya General said. “And stop scowling at me. I’m not the one who has pissed you off.”

    “You’re holding my friend hostage.”

    Azula cursed under his breath and turned his scowl to the shocked magistrate.

    “You should breathe, Sir,” Azula reminded the Magistrate. “You may choke on the peeled grapes in your mouth.”

    The magistrate sneered and started to point at him, but the grapes in his mouth choked him and he started to cough.

    Azula laughed.

    “Ha, that’s what you get for treating me like an idiot,” Azula said.

    “Hush,” Draeya General warned next to him and stepped forward.

    The general pushed a goblet of water standing next to a jug on the table to the magistrate. The magistrate took the goblet and drank deeply. When he stopped coughing, he placed his goblet on the table and looked at Draeya General.

    “What is the meaning of this? How can a general walk into the Magistrate’s Office armed and cause a commotion?”

    “I heard there was a problem of thieves terrorizing the citizens. I came running to help out because it is what I should do. What do you think, Magistrate Netan?” Draeya General asked. “I, Draeya General, am responsible for looking out for the small citizen.”

    “Draeya!” Magistrate Netan gasped and straightened to his full height. “Ay, if you told me you were coming we would have met you at the gates into the compound. Why—?”

    “No need for the ceremony,” Draeya General said, lifting his hand to stop the magistrate from coming around his desk. “I’m here to pick up a task from the magistrate. How could I announce myself for you to meet me at the gates? I’m not so insolent.”

    Draeya General turned to look at Azula and winked.

    Azula made a face at him, but the general had already returned his attention to the magistrate.

    Magistrate Netan was busy wiping the table and arranging his chair behind his desk.

    “Draeya General, please,” Magistrate Netan said, holding out his hands to his desk for the general to sit.

    “No. Magistrate Netan should sit,” Draeya General said, holding out his right hand to the chair. “I still need you to write down everything this young man said to you. Otherwise, how can you ask me to help him catch thieves?”

    Magistrate Netan stared at Azula in surprise, he stuttered, frowned at Azula, then nodded with enthusiasm.

    “Right. General is right,” the Magistrate said and sat in the chair with a shaky sigh. “Siva, bring me a paper and a pen. I’ll write down the young man’s statement, and orders to catch the thieves.”

    “You need three copies of the report,” Draeya General said and folded his arms against his chest. “Azula, why don’t you start your statement?”

    Azula was caught between awe and annoyance with how fast Draeya General got the magistrate to work. He wished he had half the power. Their Sura Clan would be far richer he thought with a frown.

    Draeya General touched his right shoulder and he scowled at the man before he stated his grievances, one by one.

    *~*~*~*

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  • Blades of Ashes – Character List

    The Lyria Kingdom from the Blades of Ashes
    Rough drawing of The Lyria Kingdom

    Genad City – Arc 1 Characters

    • Basileus Dio Adertha – Ruler of The Lyria Kingdom
    • Thanir Maenaer – A General tasked with protecting Dio Adertha by the previous Basileus
    • Raithion Maenaer – Son of Thanir Maenaer. He is also a General under his father’s wing. In Arc 1 – The Case of the Forged Silver Coins, his wedding is a bargaining tool to save the Sura Clan.
    • Noriel Maenaer – She is the second daughter of Thanir Maenaer. Her wedding to Lord Draug in the capital city serves as the Maenaer’s launching into the Genad City nobility community.
    • Soriel Maenaer – She is Thanir Maenaer’s youngest daughter. She becomes Dio Adertha’s wife and The Lyria Kingdom’s Basilinna.
    • Silveren Maenaer – Thanir Maenaer’s wife and mother to Raithion, Noriel, and Soriel.
    • Lord Gesi Ajai – The Ministry of Agriculture Minister with a blinding ambition to reach the top of Lyria Kingdom’s politics.
    • Lady Naeri Ajai – Gesi Ajai’s oldest daughter.
    • Theod Dorn – Dio Adertha’s Head of Palace Guard and confidant.
    • Dowager Basilinna Olneth – Dio Adertha’s mother, and the previous Basilinna. She is from Witia.
    • Princess Sanan Adertha – Dio Adertha’s Aunt, sister to his father, Rokas Adertha
    • Prince Ramak – Princess Sanan’s husband who was previously her bodyguard.
    • Minister of Finance Pamplona
    • Haedor – Raithion’s lieutenant and confidant.

    Sura Clan – Arc 1 Characters

    • Azula Doriel – the second son of the Sura Clan’s Chieftain.
    • Marius Doriel – The Sura Clan’s Chieftain.
    • Lasma Doriel – Married to Marius
    • Alise Doriel – The eldest daughter of the Sura Clan’s Chieftain and the next chief.
    • Magnus Doriel – Marius’s cousin and Azula’s godfather.
    • Sennin – Azula’s companion.
    • Alva – A childhood friend who works at the Doriel homestead managing the day-to-day
    • Kalas – A strong manager who helps Azula manage the mines and transport and shipping of the clan’s ore.
    • Torak – Marius’s assistant.
    • Juya – A member of the Sura Clan’s chief council.

  • Blades of Ashes Ch 3-2

    Arc 1- The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 3-2

    Raithion sat on the balcony on the second floor at the Teba Inn. He had a great view of the busy port city below. The main street connected the town with the docks. The balcony at the Teba Inn was the best spot to see who was coming and going.

    Sipping mild grape wine, Raithion thought about Basileus Dio and his father’s instructions. According to the findings of their ongoing investigation, the forged silver coins had ore that was only found in the Sura mines.

    The simplest way to end the case was to arrest the Sura Clan and have them confess their counterfeiting crime.

    This was the easiest end.

    However, when Raithion’s legion arrived at the Endless Port, they discovered a rumor. Someone had robbed six Sura cargo carriages. The clan had lost twelve skilled drivers and was now concerned about their safety on the road. Everyone at the port worried because they all made money through the Sura clan’s enterprises.

    From inns in the port town to fruit stands in the market, everyone had a small connection to the Sura. If the clan suffered, they did too.

    Curious about this development, Raithion asked Haedor to follow up on the robbery rumors with the magistrate. He hoped the Sura clan had reported a case of theft. These disruptions in their supply would exonerate the Sura Clan from the counterfeiting case.

    Raithion did not want to see an entire clan pay for the sins of the few.

    Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to the main dining hall beyond the balcony when he heard a commotion. Two of his main officers sat eating at one of the tables.  They were waiting for Haedor with him. The rest of their legion brothers were downstairs in various stages of rest.

    The two officers in the dining hall stood to greet Haedor, who had returned from his errand.

    Raithion watched them salute Haedor, and then return to their meal.

    Haedor crossed the dining room and came out to the balcony to pull out the seat opposite Raithion.

    “The port magistrate is a piece of work,” Haedor said as he settled.  “He was asleep when I arrived and had not heard the rumors of theft. He acts as though a robbery would inconvenience him if he were asked to investigate it.”

    Raithion poured a glass of wine for Haedor and pushed it across the table.

    “Take a sip. Relax,” Raithion said. “The manager of this inn says no one in the town trusts the port magistrate to help. He is a lazy, corrupt fellow. There is a possibility the Sura did not bother to report to him.”

    “They should,” Haedor said, after taking two sips of the weak wine. “It protects them later when we have to bring this case before the Basileus at the Imperial Court.”

    “First, we have to find them in order to convince them to make the report,” Raithion said. “I’ve yet to spot someone of consequence in the crowd. I hope the Sura Clan has not given up or gone into hiding.”

    Haedor’s stomach growled, and Raithion grinned.

    It was almost midday. Of course, his lieutenant was hungry.

    “Order food,” Raithion said, nodding to the interior of the inn. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

    “Yes, General,” Haedor said, getting up fast. “We should change the wine to tea, especially if we need to chase after the clan later.”

    “Do that,” Raithion said, drinking the last of the wine in his goblet. He handed over the goblet and the bottle to Haedor.

    Once his lieutenant left, Raithion returned to staring at the street. He gave his attention to anyone he saw with strawberry-blonde hair. So far, he had seen an old woman with two young boys following her. A young woman too focused on her destination as she carried a large basket on her back. And a blacksmith hauling his tools to the docks. None of them had seemed attached to the Sura cargo carriages or the transportation of burnt ore.

    Raithion sighed and sat back in his chair. Maybe he should just knock on the Sura port station and see if any of them would answer his questions.

    He was pondering on the merits of this plan when he caught a shimmer of gold and white hair in the midday sun. The shimmer drifted between the crowds of people walking on the main street. Raithion sat up, focusing his gaze on the spot where he saw that distinctive color.

    The crowd parted to reveal a young Sura man standing by a fruit stand. Raithion could not help watching him with interest.

    The Sura man was on the short side, maybe five eight. He was lean, and his hair was in a messy top ponytail. His hair was long to his shoulders. He was dressed in dark trousers, a cream tunic, and a long leather coat. The sleeves of the leather coat were decorated with shiny metal. Raithion wished he could get a closer look at the designs.

    The young Sura man had a handsome profile. He smiled easily as he talked to his companion, a taller man with short curly hair, the same color. They browsed the fruit stand for a moment and then moved away from the stall.

    Raithion frowned as the young man tossed a silver coin into the air and caught it. He did it with ease, unworried that a passerby would steal it from him. He walked with ease, as though he had no reason to hurry.

    The young Sura man’s companion was the opposite. He looked nervous and kept glancing behind them. His glimpses back were discrete, but Raithion could tell an uneasy character from a distance. So, he too assessed the crowd behind the pair.

    “Interesting,” Raithion murmured when he saw two women who were following the pair without attempting to hide.

    They kept the same pace as the two Sura men, making sure to keep them in their line of sight.

    Haedor returned with a tray laden with food. He placed it on the table and got to work arranging a bowl of beef stew and bread for Raithion.

    “Look,” Raithion said, nodding to the youth who was getting closer to the inn. “The young man with messy Sura hair. He’s strolling in the inn’s direction.”

    Haedor found him and nodded.

    “Now, look fifteen paces behind him,” Raithion said. “What do you see?”

    Haedor watched the crowd in silence for a moment and then nodded.

    “He is being followed,” Haedor said.

    “Looks like we’ve found the start of our Sura case,” Raithion said with a grin.

    “Should our brothers get him?” Haedor asked, starting to turn to give the order.

    “No.” Raithion kept watching the young Sura man who was approaching the inn.  “Let’s watch for now. Sit, Haedor. Eat your food. Let’s not spook him.”

    Haedor frowned, but he nodded and sat in his chair. He picked up his spoon and ate, his gaze on the Sura pair walking toward them.

    Raithion watched the young Sura man approach the inn, ignoring his food. He frowned when the young man stopped at the entrance of the Teba Inn.  His companion followed suit and Raithion held his breath, hoping…hoping the young man would choose to enter the Teba Inn.

    “Why is he hesitating?” Haedor asked as he took a healthy bite of his beef stew.

    “Where did we leave our horses?” Raithion asked, curious.

    “Out front,” Haedor said, and then groaned. “The brothers are sitting on the chairs arranged at the front. They might look too fierce and sprawled around with their weapons. I’ll go—”

    “No,” Raithion said, returning his gaze to the young Sura man at the entrance of the inn. “Let’s see what he does.”

    “General, no civilian is willing to get that close to the legion when they’re so clearly armed.”

    “Isn’t it more interesting if a civilian were to enter this inn with all the brothers guarding the entrance,” Raithion said with a soft chuckle.

    As though to prove his theory, the young Sura man entered the small compound outside the inn. His smile was wide as he greeted the fifteen soldiers who were enjoying their food at the front tables.

    “Good day, gentlemen,” the young Sura man said. His voice was cordial, an enticing medium tenor, with a playful note. “Welcome to Endless Port.”

    The legion brothers nodded, returning the greeting with various nods, waves, and cordial greetings.

    Raithion smiled and picked up his spoon as the young man entered the inn.  He picked up his spoon and took a bite of his beef stew, waiting.

    The main dining room downstairs was not usable.

    Raithion’s officers had packed their luggage on the tables there.

    So…the Sura pair would have no choice but to come upstairs.

    Raithion grinned wider as he waited.

    ****

    Azula worked on controlling the anxious energy growing inside him. He truly did not know whether it was good or bad luck that made him think of coming to the Teba Inn. Usually, the place would be filled with travelers from other states on their way to the port or returning from elsewhere.

    Today, however, it looked like they had run into strange luck. The inn was filled with legion brothers and possibly their leader. Their uniforms were peculiar. Not the red and black colors prevalent with the port magistrate’s garrison. This new batch was dressed in greens and black.

    Azula shuddered.

    There was a common tale often heard in the beer inns in the evening. A tale about Legion Brothers from Draeya County. Strong and ruthless, they maintained peace in the main Naga State town.

    The Naga State King was so impressed with their valor, that he presented them with the mandate to cleanse the lands of any wrong without question.

    A fierce young general who had gained his rank at a young age led these fierce brothers.

    They called him the Draeya General. He was reportedly cold and fierce, just like his soldiers, but his loyalty to his family was faultless. Women in Naga wished to have the Draeya General as their brother or husband.

    Azula hoped the legion brothers at the front of the inn did not belong to the Draeya General. Meeting the Draeya General would be equivalent to facing a man with ties to the highest authority in the empire.

    Azula shuddered again at the thought. He loved his small existence. He prayed the legion brothers belonged to a small lieutenant who would not mind taking a few coins to protect a carriage.

    The inn’s main dining hall was filled with large crates, the tables moved to the side. Azula paused as he wondered if they could get a meal here.

    The inn’s manager hurried to his side from the kitchen.

    “Vandra,” Azula said, smiling at the inn manager. “Are you getting booted out by the landlord? What is with all the crates on the tables?”

    “Ay! Master Doriel, you left the island! I’m honored you would come for a meal in our inn,” Vandra said in greeting. “Don’t worry about these tables; let’s take you to the second floor. There is space there for you and Sennin. Why didn’t you send word that you would be coming to town today? We would have planned a nice meal for everyone in your crew. Are you here with Lord Magnus?”

    “The trip was unplanned,” Azula said, shaking his head, his gaze still on the crates on the dining tables. “Lord Magnus is still at home today, too lazy to cross the seas.  Our people will bring the fruit delivery cart later. We brought two crates of the mangoes you like.”

    “That’s good news,” Vandra said, patting Azula’s left arm. “I know you crave sweet and sour roasted chicken. I’ll make sure the kitchen makes you a good one for your lunch today.”

    “I promised Sennin fried fish and a sweet bun,” Azula said, as the manager led them to the stairs.

    “Fried fish and a sweet bun for Sennin,” Vandra agreed with a nod, “and a nice pot of fresh tea. It will fill you up.”

    “Vandra knows how to treat guests,” Azula said with a quick grin, then lowered his voice. “Who leads the legion brothers at the front? Is there a new lieutenant joining the magistrate’s office?”

    “Heavens, no,” Vandra stopped at the staircase landing, glancing at the second floor with a wary gaze. He gripped Azula’s left arm tight. “No matter what you do, don’t go to the balcony. The legion brothers downstairs belong to someone very scary. He and his lieutenant are having a meal up here.”

    “Oh?” Azula frowned, and then lowered his voice in a whisper. “Who could be so scary as to make you worry, Vandra?”

    “The Draeya General,” Vandra said, matching Azula’s whisper.

    Azula felt his anxiety rise another notch.

    Damn it, he would need to go to another place in search of an easy pack of legion brothers. His shoulders slumped with distress. There was no way to buy off a decorated general.

    Sennin, sensing Azula’s disappointment, stepped around to talk to Vandra.

    “No wonder you don’t have other guests in the inn,” Sennin said, urging Azula to move when Vandra continued upstairs. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll have our meal in peace and then head out. We have a lot undone and the sun won’t stay still.”

    “Yes, yes,” Vandra agreed. “Our chef makes the best sweet and sour roast chicken. Young Master Doriel will not be disappointed.”

    They reached the second floor, and Vandra led them to a round table on the opposite side of the balcony. He chose a table near an open window. Azula looked out and saw the magistrate’s compound two streets away.

    “You have a good rest. I’ll get someone to bring you water to drink, and warm towels to wipe your hands.”

    Vandra hurried away, leaving them to settle.

    Azula slid into the chair closest to the window, while Sennin looked around the empty dining hall.

    “Only the Draeya General would empty out such a popular inn,” Sennin sighed. “On the plus side, those two women will not follow us in here. No one in their right mind will want to provoke this wild pack. You know this places you in the mad case category. Why did you want to come in here again?”

    “I hoped the legion brothers were under a lieutenant. Lieutenants are easier to talk to. They also don’t mind making a little money,” Azula said, resting his elbows on the table. He placed his chin on his left palm and studied the magistrate’s compound.

    “Generals are harder to handle. You never know what side they stand on. Maybe I should do as Papa says. Then, I’ll have an excuse to run into a few officers at the magistrate’s compound.”

    “Azula, the lot in the magistrate’s compound is likely to stab us in the back before we leave the port heading to the capital,” Sennin sighed. “Why don’t we find Tingyu? He has a nice group of mercenaries that are quite good at defending.”

    “No,” Azula shook his head. “We can’t afford to owe Tingyu’s mercenaries a favor. Not when we’re facing thefts from an unknown person. Who knows, maybe some of the mercenaries he runs are part of the robberies.”

    “True, I hadn’t thought of that,” Sennin sighed and stared out the window too. His gaze was on the magistrate’s compound too.

    “I suppose our only option is as you say,” Sennin said. “Heavens, I hope we don’t have to deal with the port magistrate. Let’s hope we meet a nice lieutenant at the entrance into that compound.”

    “Mm, may our luck hold,” Azula said with a nod, as he stared out the window.

    The sound of a chair scraping the wood floor on the balcony drew Azula’s attention away from the magistrate’s compound.

    Azula sat up and turned in the direction of the balcony. The terrace doors were all open. There were no curtains or screens to hide any diners who chose to sit on the balcony. Azula caught a glimpse of rich black fabric hanging on the back of a chair.

    Draeya General was a mythical beast.

    People talked about him in tales and whispers, but none described his face or knew him.

    Azula frowned.

    Now that he did not need to ask for help from the legion’s head, he could take a good look at the mythical Draeya General. See if he was truly human, or if a horn grew on top of his head that made him so fierce. In any case, it would be a great tale to tell Alva, Kalas, and Alise.

    Curiosity drove him out of his chair, much to Sennin’s surprise.

    “Azula?” Sennin started.

    Azula waved him off and walked across the large second dining hall to the open terrace door. He stopped on the edge of the exit, checking the balcony. He paused when he saw the striking man sitting alone at a square table near the balcony railing.

    Green, green eyes met his. Azula forced his feet to keep moving, keenly aware of that green gaze following him as he stepped onto the balcony. The man at the square table wore a fine white tunic, with an unbuttoned black legion jacket over it. The heavy embroidery on the cuffs of the jacket was gold, with five lines of intricate designs to mark the wearer as a decorated general. The general had mink black hair. It was so dark it surpassed the jacket he wore. Long and neat, the strands were caught in a high ponytail with a sturdy large round gold clip secured with a thick pin.

    Azula took in the general’s face and felt eternally disadvantaged. He had a penchant for harsh-faced men. Chiseled jaw dusted with a dark beard shadow, sharp keen eyes, lips in a hard line, all of it put together in this harsh, cold forbidding face that made the strongest men shudder, or bend to the general’s will.

    One look and Azula knew this one never failed in ordering men to do his will.

    Which meant anyone Draeya General bowed his head to would have to be stronger, and much more powerful.

    Azula’s heart skipped with violence.

    Vandra was right.

    It was best not to engage. He could not walk into a pit with his eyes wide open.  He turned toward the terrace doors determined to run away.

    “Wait.”

    Draeya General’s voice was a booming bass. Unrelenting, and hard to ignore, the sound traveled to the core. So dangerous.

    Azula closed his eyes as he stopped. He took in a deep breath to calm his speeding heart and turned to face the general.

    “Yes?”

    “Are you leaving after having a good look?”

    Azula imagined Draeya General did not get people looking at him without a purpose. Pasting on a smile, Azula clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged.

    “They said Draeya General was having a meal on the balcony,” Azula said. “I heard Draeya General has a horn growing on his forehead that makes him fierce. I came out to have a good look.”

    Draeya General stared at him, green eyes wide with shock.

    “Now that I’ve seen there’s nothing to talk about, I’m leaving,” Azula said, and started to turn away again.

    “Wait. Stop right there.”

    Azula stopped and turned to face the striking general.

    “Are you always this bold?” Draeya General asked. “Walking up to a general and joking around like this, aren’t you worried I’ll arrest you?”

    “For what?” Azula asked, his right brow rising in question.

    “Being so outrageous?”

    “Then Draeya General would seem very petty.”

    “Insolent.”

    Azula grinned, gave Draeya General a wink, and started to turn away again.

    “Stop.”

    “What? What now?” Azula asked, looking at Draeya General. “I’ve already answered your questions. What?”

    Draeya General closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as though to keep his calm.

    “You’re from the Sura Clan,” Draeya General said. “What’s your name?”

    Azula debated lying about his name for a full minute. Then he thought of Vandra who was hoping to run a quiet business selling meals and good wine. He sighed. If trouble was to come from this meeting anyway, then it was better with him, than with Vandra.

    “Azula Doriel.”

    “You’re the Sura Chieftain’s son.”

    “Draeya General knows much,” Azula said, all sense of playfulness escaping at the mention of his father’s station. The general was well-informed.

    “I should know this much,” Draeya General said. “I have important business to discuss with your clan.”

    “What kind of business would we have to discuss the Draeya General?” Azula asked. “Our meeting is a coincidence. I might have decided to eat down the street for all you know. Then, you’d have met one of our people—”

    “Perhaps,” Draeya General cut him off with a nod. “I would still have found you for this talk, Chieftain’s son. I suggest you join me at this table.”

    “Or else?” Azula asked, frowning now, he unclasped his hands as anxiety grew.

    A strong hand gripped his left arm and Azula jumped as he turned to find a hulk of a man standing behind him. The new face was not as striking as the Draeya General. The new man held a sweet bun in his left hand. He ate it as though he had not had food for years. The enthusiasm with which the sweet bun was ending made Azula’s stomach growl in protest.

    “Excuse me, Master Doriel, I’ll help you have a seat at the table,” the newcomer said. “Or else, I’ll break your arm for being so insolent to the general.”

    “Oh,” Azula said, his gaze on the strong hand holding his upper left arm.

    After wielding a hammer for ages in his workshop, Azula could not say he was a weak man.  However, the hand holding his arm felt like it might break iron with a single twist. It was warrior-forged strength grown from a place of pure violence.

    Azula had no doubt the newcomer would follow through on his threat.

    “Okay, okay,” Azula said, smiling at the new face. “Let’s not get so serious. I’ll have a seat if you let go of my arm. You two already caught me. I’m caught between you. Where can I go?”

    “Indeed,” Draeya General said, with a small shake of his head. “Let him go. Chieftain’s son will have a seat.”

    “My name is Azula. Chieftain’s son sounds like a mouthful. Stop calling me that,” Azula said, shaking his head. “You who threatens to ruin my arm, you should at the least tell me your name.”

    “Why?” the hulk of a man asked.

    “So I know who to curse as I get through the pain,” Azula said with a glare at the new face.

    Draeya General chuckled drawing Azula’s gaze.

    “Are you going to watch him bully me?” Azula asked. “I thought you were a decorated general? Where is your care for the small citizens?”

    “The small citizen is a handful,” Draeya General said. “I need my lieutenant, Haedor, to help manage you.”

    Azula scoffed as Haedor pushed him to the empty chair at the square table. He cursed his curiosity when Haedor let go of his arm. Azula spent a few minutes adjusting his long jacket as he settled.

    “I don’t know about managing. I call this abusing the small citizens,” Azula said. “If I knew where they complain about you, I’d sent in my two cents on the matter.”

    “Thank goodness I have not heard of a magistrate’s office that will take a complaint against me,” Draeya General said. “Tell me something, Azula Doriel.”

    “What is it that you must know that you are pushing me around like this?” Azula asked, scowling at Haedor who stayed standing behind him.

    “The rumor is that the Sura is getting their cargo carriages robbed. Why hasn’t anyone from the clan reported the thefts to the port magistrate?” Draeya General asked, folding his arms against his chest.

    Azula stared at the Draeya General for a full minute and then broke out into a loud amused laugh. He laughed long and hard until there were tears in his eyes. Azula used the corner of his sleeve to wipe his eyes and shook his head at Draeya General’s joke.

    Azula looked at the Draeya General when he was calmer and blinked when he found the general frowning at him.

    “What?” Azula asked. “Do you know you frown often? It’s not good for your complexion. The lines on your forehead could turn permanent. Draeya General, you might not have a horn on your forehead, but frown lines will not serve you. No matter how striking you look.”

    “Insolent,” Haedor hammered the table with his right fist, and Azula jumped in his seat with a sigh.

    “That must be a favorite word,” Azula said, shaking his head with a sigh. “Listen, I don’t understand your question, Draeya General. What does the theft of our carriages have to do with the port magistrate? It’s not like he will help us find them.”

    “And how do you intend to find your stolen carriages?” Draeya General asked.

    “That’s my problem to solve, isn’t it?” Azula asked. “What does it have to do with Draeya General?”

    Haedor started to slam on the table again, but Azula grabbed the lieutenant’s thick right wrist.

    “Stop,” Azula said, mimicking Draeya General’s booming tone from earlier. He grinned when he nailed it right, and Haedor paused.  “Vandra spent a great deal of effort to construct these tables. You breaking them will only add to his expenses. Lieutenant Haedor, why don’t you reserve this effort for the legion’s arenas?”

    “Inso—” Haedor started

    “Insolent,” Azula completed for him, looking up at the great big giant of a man with a wide grin.

    Haedor’s physique was all thick arms, bulky chest, trim waist, and firm thighs. He was the perfect Legion soldier.

    Azula worried about his own sanity as he teased the seasoned warrior that could break his arms.

    “You might need to find a new word,” Azula said. “My parents have exhausted themselves with it since I was ten. It’s been a decade and I have only gotten worse. I’m afraid I thrive on insolence.”

    “I might really break him,” Haedor said, shaking his head. “I leave him to you, General.”

    Haedor walked away from the square table and Azula was left staring at the Draeya General. Haedor headed into the main dining hall and Azula hoped Sennin was not too nervous facing Draeya General’s lieutenant.

    Azula sighed and met Draeya General’s cold green gaze.

    “What now?” he asked when Draeya General stayed silent.

    “I’m trying to calculate how much trouble you get into in a day,” Draeya General said. “It surprises me that you’re alive.”

    Azula chuckled and shook his head.

    “You and my parents would get along.”

    Azula’s stomach growled and he brought his right hand to rub the ache of hunger with a frown.

    “Listen, Draeya General, no one in this Endless Port trusts the magistrate. He is more likely to help the thieves robbing us, than help my people find the missing cargo carriages.”

    “Then why did you walk into this inn?” Draeya General asked.

    “Huh?”

    “You saw my officers taking up the seats at the front of the inn. Most citizens walked on and went to find their meal elsewhere. Why did you not walk away? Why did you enter this inn despite the legion brothers downstairs?”

    “I’ll be honest,” Azula said, holding Draeya General’s gaze.

    “I’d like that,” Draeya General said, with an expectant nod.

    “It was an attack of insanity,” Azula said, keeping his tone very solemn. “Insanity took over and I led my best friend into a lair of alphas. I should have ignored the urge. Don’t worry, the insanity can be cured. I promise to mend my ways from now on. Can I leave?”

    “Inso—,” Draeya General started, and then cut himself off as Azula grinned at the reaction.

    “I could have you arrested,” Draeya General said, glaring at Azula.

    “On what grounds? Being hungry? How ridiculous of a legion general to bully a small citizen. I might live on Sura Island, but I know my rights. I have done no wrong—”

    “You’ve insulted me multiple times.”

    “Insulted? What insulted?” Azula widened his eyes. “Draeya General, the most I’ve done is called out your incurable need to bully people. My stomach is clearly growling with hunger as I sit here. Do you even care that I might need a meal the next minute? What if I collapse with hunger?  My people will blame you for letting me starve in front of your eyes. What noble career is this you’re—mm—?”

    A sweaty palm covered his mouth and Azula turned to glare at the person who would dare. He stopped struggling when he saw a petrified Sennin standing next to him.

    “Draeya General, I apologize for my best friend,” Sennin said, his voice shaky as he bowed his head low in the direction of the general. “He’s just worried about our clan. He doesn’t know how to filter his words. I’m sorry if he has insulted you. Please, let him off.”

    Azula tried to shake Sennin’s hand off his mouth to protest the apology, but Sennin would not have it.

    “I can let him off if you tell me what is going on with your stolen cargo carriages,” Draeya General said, after making Sennin stand with his head bowed for close to five minutes.

    Azula glared at the annoying general, and almost bit Sennin’s finger when Draeya General smirked at him.

    “Answering Draeya General, our clan has recently suffered six losses,” Sennin said, his voice shaky. “We are hoping to save our current orders by replacing the stolen cargo. Young Master Doriel is looking to hire legion officers who can help protect our convoy on our journey to the capital.”

    “You’re hoping to buy protection,” Draeya General said, his gaze knowing as he studied Azula.

    “Yes,” Sennin said, with a quick nod. “Master Doriel thought a lieutenant was the head of the legion downstairs. We are sorry. He did not mean to bother you.”

    Azula managed to fight Sennin’s palm off his mouth.

    “Draeya General need not bother with this information,” Azula said, pushing his chair back as he stood.

    “I can offer help,” Draeya General said, shocking Azula and Sennin.

    “Why?” Azula asked after a moment.

    “Why not?” Draeya General asked, a charming smile curving his lips.

    Azula could not help but stare at the enticing curve. How amazing. A simple smile transformed the Draeya General into a painfully handsome man. So handsome that Azula wanted to shift closer and touch the general’s smiling lips.

    Argh, why could he never find the will to ignore such striking, dangerous men?

    “Draeya General is very busy,” Sennin said. “Our Sura Clan cannot ask you to help us with this trivial matter.”

    “Trivial?” Draeya General asked, his smile disappearing, the expression on his face turning cold again.

    Azula sighed.

    “Theft is never trivial,” Draeya General said. “Theft of a cargo carriage carrying burnt ore is certainly not a small matter. You must report this kind of theft to the magistrate to protect yourselves. To hear that your clan has lost six carriages of burnt ore is very worrying. This is the ore that is then used for sinister means…like counterfeiting silver.”

    “No,” Azula shook his head.  “Our ore does not make silver coins.”

    “Your people might not but others can,” Draeya General said, his green eyes glaring. “Chieftain’s son, don’t you know the consequences of counterfeiting silver? Do you know what happens to a clan found interfering with the economy this way?”

    Sennin shook his head no, but Azula did not need instruction on what counterfeiting cases dealt to the perpetrators.

    Draeya General did not wait for them to give him an answer.

    “Entire clans have been wiped out by the imperial court on suspected counterfeiting. What makes you think your Sura would be different?”

    Azula shuddered and wished he had not stepped out to the balcony to catch a glimpse of the Draeya General. This man was no fun at all.

    “No one in my clan would ever betray us that way,” Azula said, speaking from a place of truth. He trusted his family, his clan. They lived for each other. If one of them made a misstep, they all suffered.

    “You’re a very exhausting individual,” Draeya General stated. “I’ve warned you. I’ve asked you to report to the magistrate, and wasted words for your own good. Now, ask me for help.”

    “We can’t afford your help,” Azula said.

    “I won’t charge you anything,” Draeya General said.

    Azula narrowed his gaze, wary of gifts from a powerful general.

    “Why?”

    “Why can’t I help? Isn’t it looking after a small citizen as you put it?” Draeya General asked.

    Azula scoffed, studying Draeya General for a full minute, and then because he truly could not keep having words with this man, he sighed.

    “Draeya General. Do what you want,” Azula said. “I have no power to stop you. What I do have the power to do is leave this inn. I have not committed a crime. Your legion brothers cannot detain us. Do you agree?”

    “Yes.”

    “Good,” Azula said and took Sennin’s right arm. “We’re leaving. Please, excuse us.”

    Azula led Sennin back into the main dining hall. They found their table was laden with food. Knowing he could not leave Vardan with the expense, Azula led them to eat first. After all, they had come in for a meal.

    Sennin hesitated when they got to their table.

    Azula started to ask why but then Draeya General pulled a chair next to their table and he sighed.

    “What?” Draeya General asked, smiling at Azula, as he sat down. “You told me to do what I want. I want to follow you. In fact, I must follow you to learn more about these thieves.”

    “Then, it’s your choice,” Azula said with a nod as he watched Draeya General sit back and fold his arms against his chest.

    Azula sank into his own chair and reached for the platter with sweet and sour roasted chicken. He cut off a large drumstick and took a bite. Ignoring Draeya General, he smiled at Sennin who was watching the general with a wary gaze.

    “Sennin, eat your fish or you’ll be starving later,” Azula said, chewing on his drumstick with enthusiasm.  “Vandra’s chef does make the best sweet and sour roast chicken. This is very good.”

    Sennin opened his mouth to tease him, but then stopped conscious of the general sitting with them.

    Azula scowled at the general as he chewed.

    “Do you have to sit here with us?” Azula asked when he swallowed.

    “I’m afraid you’ll run out of here if I don’t keep you in my sight,” Draeya General said.

    Azula scoffed and glanced behind him to see Lieutenant Haedor return to the main dining room with three legion brothers.

    “I wonder how we would manage that with your lieutenant so enthusiastic.”

    Azula shook his head and concentrated on eating. He glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of the magistrate’s compound. At least with a general in tow, or following him, he would not have to worry about getting a lieutenant from the magistrate.

    A goblet filled with water was pushed to his right elbow.

    “Here, you should drink between such rapid bites,” Draeya General said. “It would be a disappointment to have you choke after we just met.”

    Azula started to curse at him, but then Sennin kicked his left foot under the table and he bit back the words with a grumble. He glared at Sennin and then reached for the goblet. He gave Draeya General a faux smile.

    “How gracious of you,” Azula said, as he sipped the water. “Don’t strain yourself.”

    “I wouldn’t,” Draeya General said.

    “Then don’t sit here, and let us keep you from your busy life,” Azula answered.

    “You’re the reason for my busy life,” Draeya General said.

    “We don’t even know each other,” Azula said.

    “I’m Draeya General. What else can I do but protect the small citizen in need?”

    “I’m not in need.”

    “Aren’t you? Or do you want to pay me a fee? How much do you offer the lieutenants you hire?”

    Azula frowned, wondering if it was legal to pay legion officers for security. Everyone at the port did it, but it was considered bribery in the capital. What would a decorated general think of the price he paid? Would it get him in trouble? Azula sighed and once again regretted approaching the stupid balcony.

    “I’m not telling you,” Azula said. “Since you’re following us of your own accord, why do I need to pay?”

    “Shrew.”

    “Tyrant.”

    “Insolent shrew.”

    “Can’t-come-up-with-another-word-idiot general,” Azula said and gained a kick from Sennin under the table.

    Azula groaned and glared at Sennin.

    “He started it. Why don’t you kick him too?”

    Sennin sighed and turned to Draeya General.

    “I apologize on his behalf,” Sennin said.

    Azula took a healthy bite of his chicken and ignored them both, wondering how it had come to this. He swallowed too fast and triggered a choking cough. The goblet of water was pressed into his right hand and he met amused green eyes with a put-upon sigh.

    What was he going to do about gaining the attention of a glorified Draeya General?

    ****

    Previous | Blades of Ashes ToC | Next

  • Blades of Ashes Ch 3-1

    Arc 1- The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 3-1

    Magnus rode his horse like a man possessed when he received news of Azula’s plan to counter the robberies plaguing the clan. He rode fast on busy cobbled paths, his assistant shouting out warnings along the way to save anyone who did not notice his haste.

    Yaitan’s workshop was where Azula managed his devious plans. The young man was probably stirring up a large force of trouble. The thought of the consequences had Magnus urging his horse into a faster pace.

    Yaitan’s workshop was hidden in a cave surrounded by tall evergreen trees. Azula discovered the workshop when he was twelve. He gifted the discovery to his master, Yaitan, and they bonded over the large deposits of ilmenite the two unearthed in the depths of the cave.

    Azula was twenty this year. These two, master and student, had built up Yaitan’s Workshop into an experimental, risk-taking, genius center. Magnus felt sweat slide down his back every time he thought of Azula and Yaitan making plans.

    Magnus jumped off his horse when he reached the cave entrance. The heavy wooden doors at the cave entrance were carved with intricate designs. A combination of Azula and Yaitan’s work. The doors were open and warm light indicated ongoing work. A strained shout reached him, and answering calls responded.

    Magnus cursed under his breath and hurried into the warm workshop. It was almost dinnertime, and he would have preferred spending the next few hours listening to beautiful Rara sing. He walked through a team of five men standing between two long workbenches. Their attention was on a huge passenger carriage in the middle of the open space deeper in the cave.

    The men moved when they noted Magnus, allowing him to walk closer to the massive passenger carriage taking up space in the middle of the large cave. The passenger carriage was built with a handsome mix of hardwood and iron. The iron twisted into intricate designs, weaving through the wood, making it look luxurious and sturdy at the same time. The four wheels on the carriage were doubled and wide. Strong enough to carry heavy weight.

    Magnus frowned when he saw his nephew holding on to the handle of a massive wrench. Kalas stood next to him, providing support as they tightened a bolt on the shaft and hitching parts.

    “That should hold it,” Azula said when they tagged once more and the bolt did not move. “I’ll make sure Sennin checks on it when we get to the Everlasting Port.”

    “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you?” Kalas asked, taking the wrench from Azula and placing it on a holder on the table.

    “They are coming along,” Azula said, waving to the five men Magnus had passed. “They helped put this carriage together. Each one knows how each of the parts work. Plus, they are the ones who will know how to stock the undercarriage with the ore we need. Kalas, don’t worry. This will work out. We’ll get to the capital in no time.”

    “The in-between is what I’m worried about,” Kalas said, shaking his head as he reached for a cloth on the table to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “You’re not a warrior, Azula. None of us are.”

    “We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Azula said, his focus on the shaft.

    “No wonder your Papa thinks I’ll spoil you to death,” Magnus said, drawing Azula’s immediate attention.  He turned around fast, his gaze widening when he saw Magnus standing a few feet away. “When were you going to fill me in on this plan?”

    “When the carriage was onboard the ship,” Azula said with a wide grin. “Magnus, don’t worry so much—”

    “What is the plan?” Magnus demanded, cutting him off.

    “Magnus.”

    “Tell me now, or I will lock you up in the main house for a month,” Magnus said.

    Azula studied him for a minute. No doubt trying to decide how much he could leave out. Magnus glared at him and fought a grin when Azula gave a resigned sigh.

    “You’re not going to like it,” Azula said. “It has to be done even though you don’t like it.”

    “Tell me,” Magnus insisted. “Then I’ll decide what has to be done.”

    Azula glanced at Kalas hoping for support, but Kalas shrugged and moved away from the carriage to join the five blacksmiths behind Magnus.

    “Really,” Azula said, shaking his head at Kalas’ obvious abandonment. He pulled off a white cloth tucked into the belt at his waist and used it to wipe off sweat from the back of his neck.

    “Fine,” Azula said, shaking his head. “Uncle Magnus, you come closer. I have to show you the inside of the carriage for you to understand the plan.”

    Magnus removed his heavy jacket and handed it to his assistant. He walked around an open toolbox on the floor and joined his nephew at the elegant open door into the carriage.

    Azula stood on the side, holding the door open with his left hand, and held out his right hand to Magnus.

    “Welcome aboard, Uncle,” Azula said, giving him a formal nod.

    Magnus bit back a laugh, his gaze on Azula’s callused hands, the palms covered with streaks of black and dirt. The more than capable hand so dear, he might murder anyone who dared harm this child’s hand. Magnus clasped Azula’s dirty hand with his, holding it tight as he climbed up the steps into the carriage.

    The interior was spacious. The walls of the carriage were covered with a deep blue velvet. The benches were upholstered with deep blue velvet and were button-tufted. It looked like a rich man’s lair. The cushions laid out on the benches were designed for comfort.

    Magnus sat on the bench facing the driver and watched Azula who chose to sit facing the door.

    The carriage provided them with privacy to have a talk away from the men outside.

    “What’s the plan?” Magnus asked, his gaze serious as he met Azula’s determined gaze.

    “This carriage hides secret storage within the walls and the undercarriage. The black ore Papa needs is hidden there. The five men in there are the only people who know what this carriage hides. I’m going to ride it to Genad,” Azula said.

    “Not alone,” Magnus said.

    “Of course, I won’t be alone,” Azula said, shaking his head as he sat back, stretching his legs out. He let out a soft sigh. “I’ll take Sennin, six horses, the five men out there, a driver, and his helper. It’s enough of a spectacle. The journey to Genad will take too long as it is.”

    Magnus studied Azula for a full minute, then looked at the luxurious carriage that now hid valuable ore. He could have never thought to do this to save the clan from thieves.

    “How long have you worked on this carriage?” Magnus asked, curious as to how such a large project had gone unnoticed.

    “This carriage is meant for Alise’s wedding,” Azula said, starting to touch the bench with his palm, only to stop when he noticed the dirt on his hands. “You know she’s going to bring Yemin to greet our parents. He’s her chosen mate and the next second to the chieftain. I wanted them to celebrate their day with style. I have been designing this carriage bit by bit. Too bad it’s now being used to save our ore.”

    Magnus smiled.

    “It’s good luck it will be used to save the clan’s ore,” Magnus said. “When you succeed, it will bring good luck to Alise and Yemin.”

    Azula grinned at the mention of his sister and her chosen partner. Magnus loved the easy support between siblings. Alise loved her younger brother even more. This was why Magnus worried about Azula’s safety. Nothing could happen to this youngest chieftain’s son.

    “You need protection,” Magnus said.

    “I will have our five blacksmith’s with me,” Azula said. “Sennin is there too.”

    “Not blacksmiths,” Magnus said, shaking his head. “You need warriors. Warmongers. People who are not squeamish about drawing blood. Our people are too soft. We have families and value peaceful existences. You need soldiers.”

    “We don’t have those,” Azula said.

    “Buy them at the port,” Magnus said, holding Azula’s gaze. “I mean it, Azula. Use the money I get from the mango selling if you don’t have spare silver.”

    “Uncle Magnus, it’s not about the money,” Azula said. “You know good lieutenants are not easy to find. The port magistrate is corrupt. We can’t trust them to get us to the capital. Let alone fight off determined armed robbers.”

    “They will fight them off for the right price,” Magnus said. “I’ll find you the gold to make sure it works out. Do this for me, and I’ll not oppose your plan.”

    Azula stared at his dusty boots for a full minute before he let out a sigh.

    “Finding a lieutenant will cost us time at the port,” Azula said.

    “It should,” Magnus agreed. “It will also give you time to understand what else we don’t know about the people coming after us.”

    “Okay,” Azula said, with a sigh. “I’ll do as you say.”

    “Can you pull this trip off?” Magnus asked Azula.

    Azula looked up then and met Magnus’s worried gaze. He smiled wide and nodded.

    “Yes,” he said. His confidence made Magnus almost believe it too.

    Magnus nodded and scratched his head.

    “I can’t wait to hear what your father will have to say about this when he sees you. He’ll blame me for indulging you again. I’m warning you early. I’ll make you drink two barrels of wine at your wedding to pay me back for all this trouble.”

    Azula laughed then, and Magnus grinned at the youthful sound filling the carriage.

    ****

    Two days later, two hours before noon, Azula’s ship docked at the Endless Port and the crew started offloading the easier packages.  Azula stepped out of the ship with a lazy yawn, stretching his arms above his head as he walked. He dropped his hands when a short boy blocked his path and handed him a folded scroll.

    Thanking the boy, Azula stepped to the side and unrolled the scroll to read the contents. It was a message from his father, asking him to visit the magistrate’s compound at the port.

    The Naga State port was an entry point into the empire. Traders, visitors, immigrants, and travelers from other continents filled the port. Its fame won it the unofficial name of Endless Port.

    The Naga State King tasked the port magistrate with the work of overseeing law and order in this vibrant port. He even handed over a military garrison and placed it under the magistrate’s direct command.

    The magistrate used the officers in the port garrison to maintain peace and punish anyone who tried to cause trouble at the port. However, his dedication to the job left much to be desired.

    Everyone making a living at the Endless Port knew not to trust the magistrate.

    Which was why Azula stood frozen as he read his father’s second message.

    “He wants me to report the theft to the magistrate here at Endless Port,” Azula said, turning to Sennin who joined him from the ship. “Has Papa lost his mind? What does he think the magistrate will do? It’s like asking me to confront the thieves in person.”

    Sennin took the note and read it fast.

    Azula looked around the busy dock. His frown depended as he wondered what had gotten into his father. A man with short strawberry-blonde hair carried a crate filled with mangoes into a large warehouse a few feet away.

    The Sura Clan ran this docking station at the Endless Port. It was where their ships offloaded and received the cargo. The men and women who operated the port were all from Sura Island. They packed the cargo into transport carriages and seasoned drivers took it to the capital city of Genad. They also arranged cargo from the capital into the ships for transport to Sura Island.

    This routine was ageless. Every member of the clan old enough to contribute had worked the system here at the Endless Port.

    Suddenly, Azula was sure their age-old traditions had somehow opened them up to a new threat.

    Sennin handed the note back, and Azula stuffed it into his pocket.

    Azula adjusted the leather belt holding his trousers in place. He took a good look at their ship. Inside, in the cargo hold, hid their first attempt at a new transport carriage.

    A transport carriage Azula hoped would fool the people doing their best to ruin them.

    Now, all they had to was fulfill his promise to Magnus. He needed to find a stronger force to deal with an aggressive attack.

    Magnus was always right. Their people were blacksmiths. They could beat iron, silver, gold, and any other metal into shape. However, they were no warriors.  Half of them were very softhearted. Their family life in the Sura village made it impossible to become cold warriors able to fight off a killing horde.

    “What do we do now?” Sennin asked.

    “Follow Magnus’s wishes,” Azula said, his gaze shifting away from their ship to the rest of the busy dock.

    Azula nodded his greetings to familiar faces, which was everyone here. He had grown up knowing everyone who worked or ran a business at the Endless Port. This was why he paused when he noticed a pair of women sitting at the end of the boardwalk.

    They looked too new, unfamiliar, and out of place. They sat on old wooden crates eating fried potatoes out of brown paper. A misshapen wooden stand was arranged before them, facing the main street. It looked like they were selling something, but their attention was on the Sura ship.

    “We should find somewhere quiet,” Azula said. “There are too many eyes.”

    Azula met Sennin’s gaze and nodded in the direction of the two women.

    Sennin waited for a beat then with grace and tact. He glanced at the end of the boardwalk.

    Azula noticed the two women had gained an interested customer.  The customer browsed their wares, but the two women made no effort to sell.

    “Maybe your father has the right idea,” Sennin said, shaking his head.

    His gaze shifted back to their ship.

    “I asked everyone to hold on moving the carriage. They are going to take out crates filled with the mangoes Magnus sells to the inns around here.”

    “Agreed,” Azula said. “Uncle Magnus was right. We need updated information. Let’s go to the nice inn in the middle of town where outsiders like to go. We’ll get something to eat. I’m hungry and they have the best sweet and sour roasted chicken.”

    “Azula,” Sennin started to add more.

    “It’s not like we can leave the port right now,” Azula said, using his thumb to point behind them. “They are probably going to follow us. There is a possibility they are with the people robbing us blind.”

    “You know Alva packed your food,” Sennin said, as Azula turned and headed along the boardwalk to the main road.

    “I will eat later when I’m locked up in the carriage we brought,” Azula said with a mischievous grin. “Come on, let’s head to Teba Inn.”

    Sennin let out a sigh and followed Azula, hurrying after him with a deep frown.

    “Our drivers have experienced twelve losses which have left their families devastated. Aren’t you worried we’ll endure a robbery?” Sennin asked as he caught up with Azula.

    “I’m worried. I am scared of riding that carriage all the way to Genad. But, we don’t have a choice. We need to stop the robberies from happening. I think my plan will help us discover who is doing this. In any case, I also agree with Magnus’s suggestion. We need to find someone strong enough to help us fight back.”

    “Someone like whom?”

    Azula reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver piece. It was a pure silver coin. The first silver coin Azula ever made from a blade he forged at sixteen years old. He kept it with him for inspiration and good luck.

    “Magnus suggested finding a lieutenant we can buy,” Azula said as he kept walking.

    The trick was to find the right person. A lieutenant who was loyal to the empire. One who would help them fight thieves without demanding more than their agreed price.

    Otherwise, Azula’s plan to catch the thieves would be for naught.

    They walked by the two women who were now actively selling the cheap beaded jewelry laid out on their wooden stands. Azula ignored the pair and joined the foot traffic on the main road leading to the center of the port town.

    “Sennin, don’t sulk,” Azula said when he glanced at his best friend and saw a visible frown and a pout on his lips. “I’ll buy you fried fish and sweet buns. Let’s fill our stomachs.”

    Sennin clapped in excitement at the mention of fried fish and hurried to keep up with Azula’s easy stride.

    ****

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 2-2

    Arc 1- The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 2-2

    The sun shone on the surface of the lake, turning the water a beautiful azure. Azula held his breath, sinking deeper into the cold embrace of the lake water. The water was so clear. He could see the light shining on the surface of the lake. The rays fighting to light the deep depths below.

    Azula sank deeper.

    It was so quiet down here. A bubble escaped from his lips. Azula watched it travel to the surface above him. He grinned when the shadow of a boat covered the light.

    He waited a beat, enjoying the silence. Then an oar struck the surface, making ripples in the water. It seemed that someone was anxious.

    Azula kicked his legs, rising to the surface of the lake. He took in a deep breath when he could, and let it out, wiping water out of his face with his palms. He pushed his hair back and smiled at the two people leaning over the boat watching him.

    “Tell me, are you hiding fish traits? Are you searching for a treasure in this lake? Think carefully before you answer.”

    Azula grinned at the woman who smiled at him as she spoke. He trod water as he studied her familiar face.

    Alva was twenty-eight, a mother of two, and her strawberry blonde hair was filled with braids, thanks to her family. Her husband ran the smithy at the Doriel ancestral home, while she managed the ancestral house. She took care of Azula’s meals and mended his clothes. He grew up with her and knew her hot temper. Had endured spankings from her when she was sixteen and he was naughty. She was like his big sister.

    Azula truly could not afford to offend her.

    “If I say I’m looking for treasure, what happens?” Azula asked, dipping his head back into the water, and sweeping his hair back away from his face.

    “Then tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure Kalas gets men to drag this lake and empty it. Surely an empty lake will help you find the treasure faster,” Alva said.

    “Big sis, wouldn’t that mean I’m responsible for the loss of all the fish in this lake?” Azula complained. “Let’s say I’m hiding fish traits and feel at home deep in the water.”

    Alva laughed and Kalas held out his hand to Azula.

    “We need to get back,” Kalas said. “A message has come from your father. There has been another robbery.”

    Azula forgot his ploy to stay longer in the water and gripped Kalas hand. Kalas helped pull him out of the water, and he climbed onto the large flat passenger boat with a blue canvas shelter. He sat on a bench, took the heavy towel Alva handed him, and used it to dry off.

    “What does my father’s message say?” Azula asked, dropping the towel on his lap, knowing Alva would have brought it along.

    Azula took the dry white linen tunic Alva held out and wore it with practiced moves. He straightened the long sleeves to his wrists and stood. Alva handed Kalas the pair of clean white linen shorts and a pair of black trousers.

    “I’ll get the note,” Alva said, moving to the blue canvas canopy to rummage in the bag she had brought and left on a bench there, her back turned to them.

    Beyond the blue canvas canopy stood the oarsman steering the flat passenger boat to the private dock behind the Doriel ancestral home. He had also tied the little boat Azula used to come out to the larger one and it now trailed behind them.

    Azula removed the wet linen shorts he used for swimming, wiped dry, and took the white shorts and trousers from Kalas. He pulled them on with impatience, hopping from side to side.

    “Another robbery is bad for business. I’m guessing Papa wants me to deliver the next round, though we can’t keep losing shipments like this,” Azula said, finally pulling up his trousers.

    He paused to tie the strings on his trousers and tucked one side of his tunic into them. Grabbing the heavy towel, he did his best to dry his hair. The strawberry blonde hair was braided on the sides, and the top was tied with a leather strip to make a messy ponytail. The length of this ponytail fell down to his shoulders. His hair would feel damp for a while yet.

    Alva returned holding a folded letter and a long heavy wool dark coat with rabbit fur on the collar. She handed Azula the coat. He wore it because she worried he would catch a cold. He did not bother closing the wooden buttons on the coat and instead sat on the bench and took the letter from his father.

    Azula broke the wax seal on the cover of the letter and unrolled the note.

    ‘There are traps on our usual routes. The cargo carriages marked by the enemy. Find a way to bring black ore to the city. Trust no one outside the clan. Make haste, the workshops in the city are running low. We will start losing income if we can't fulfill orders.'

    “Someone is out to defame our Sura,” Azula said. “These robberies do not seem simple.”

    Azula handed the letter to Kalas to read and picked up his wet linen shorts. Squeezing out excess water, he rolled them into a small bundle and slipped them into the bag Alva held out. He picked up the towel he had used, dried his hands and feet then placed the towel in the bag too.

    He sat and Alva passed him a pair of knitted black socks and his usual boots.

    “Taking a shipment to the capital with this climate is dangerous work,” Kalas said. “You’ll need Sennin and me with you.”

    Azula wore his socks, and sunk his feet into his warm boots. He tied the laces and sat up, his gaze on the surface of the still lake. The sun was still high above, but the depths of the lake were dark again. He frowned and shook his head.

    “No, you stay here with Magnus and the clan. I’ll take Sennin with me,” Azula said. “In case we run into trouble and need help, I can count on you.”

    “Very well,” Kalas said, his lips set in a hard line of disapproval.

    “Kalas, no matter what is going on in the capital, our most important asset is here,” Azula said, placing his hand on Kalas’s shoulder. “I trust you to protect our home.”

    Kalas gave him a swift smile and shook his head.

    “There is Lord Magnus,” Kalas reminded him.

    “Lord Magnus is the same age as my father,” Azula said with a wide grin. “He is strong, but I don’t expect him to run along the docks to push everyone to action. All he knows is how to give orders. You will make sure they are fulfilled.”

    “If he hears you say that about him, he will surely spank you,” Kalas said with a laugh.

    “He might but he knows I’m right,” Azula said. “He’s not young anymore. He needs you to push people around.”

    “Right,” Kalas said with a sigh, staring at the letter he held. “Twenty years old, and you sound like a veteran.”

    “I should grow up faster because our Sura Mountain is coveted by too many. Protecting this place and our family is not easy,” Azula said, squeezing Kalas’s shoulder. He stood up to watch the boat approach the dock behind his beloved home.

    “Our black ore is precious. Blacksmiths in the capital prefer it because it converts to iron bars with a higher percentage. I don’t have to mention how strong the steel made from our ore is. I can see why there are those who want to take it from us. Six cargo carriages stolen is no small feat.”

    “Our enemy is strong,” Kalas said, standing next to Azula, his hands folded against his chest. “We need a good plan.”

    “We need a genius plan,” Azula said as the oarsman navigated the boat so that the side of it stopped right at the dock.

    “I’ll tell the ten kinsmen to find you,” Alva said, as Azula stepped up onto the dock and turned to take her hand.

    “I will be in Yaitan’s workshop,” Azula said, once Alva was safely standing on the dock. “Don’t forget to tell Godfather.”

    ****

    Huga Nedin watched his locksmith break the last lock on the Sura cargo carriages. A sigh of relief filled the men around him as the door opened to reveal the pure burnt ore found only in the Sura Mountain.

    The five cargo carriages standing open in their hidden compound had carried enough to fulfill their plans. This sixth carriage would be shared out among the mercenaries in Huga’s team. It would fetch a handsome price when sold to blacksmiths outside the capital.

    “What do we do with the cargo carriages?” Lian asked, drawing Huga’s gaze.

    Lian was his most reliable man. He managed tasks without question. He would not ask about the cargo carriages without a reason.

    “Why?” Huga asked.

    “They are Sura property,” Lian said. “The clan is actively looking for them. This compound is hidden but there is no guarantee that it won’t be found. Our plan is still ongoing. We should discard the carriages in a place of convenience.”

    “Convenience, you say,” Huga said, smiling as he turned back to the open cargo carriage. He reached in and took a piece of the burnt ore.

    Yes, he had almost forgotten their true purpose at the thought of their incoming profits. This burnt ore had a larger role to play. Lian was right. The stage was coming along nicely, so why not use the carriages too.

    Who in the capital did not know what a Sura cargo carriage looked like?

    Huga chuckled.

    “Lian, you have the best ideas,” Huga said with a nod. “Find three men to help you move the cargo carriages. Leave them somewhere the Sura Clan is able to find them. Somewhere that works for the grander plan. The yard behind the warehouse they keep in the middle of the capital is a great place.”

    “Yes, Sir.”

    “Meanwhile, look out for another Sura cargo carriage,” Huga said. “We only needed six, but extra burnt ore is good for the pocket. They will be sending one out soon in order to cover the deficit. Now, everyone gets to work! Move this ore to our transport carriage.”

    ****

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 2-1

    The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 2-1

    A majestic mountain stood in the middle of the Sura Island. Under this mountain, a series of tunnels existed. These tunnels were built in the hundreds of years the Sura Clan had called the island home. Generations came, passed their knowledge to the youngsters, and moved on. Youngsters grew up, taught their next generation. The cycle continued until mining and working with ore became a way of life for the Sura.

    The Sura Clan lived with deep loyalties to family. Theirs was a community based on family first no matter the situation. The members of the clan lacked for nothing. There were no restrictions on love and marriage, ambition or spirit. They supported each other without question.

    Hence, the Sura Clan nurtured skilled jewelers, tool artisans, weapon forgers, talented blacksmiths and many more. The only thing their chieftain, Marius Doriel, worried about was their small number compared to the other clans in the Lyria Empire. The Sura Clan was only two thousand, five hundred and twenty-three souls strong. Marius was in a constant bid to encourage marriage and child bearing to every Sura Clan member’s dismay.

    It was lucky the passionate chieftain had moved to stay in the capital for the sake of their trade.

    Marius lived with five hundred Sura people in the capital city. This group endured his constant nagging to procreate. Weddings were a usual practice during days of rest at Marius’ main home.  He even footed the wedding bill as long as a couple approached him with the intention to marry.

    The Sura who remained on the island had an easier time, as they lived as they wished. However, the marriage bug caught the Sura quite early. Every month, the assistant chieftain hosted a marriage ceremony at the main hall in the center of the Sura Village on the island. Everyone hoped their numbers would grow and allow Marius some peace of mind.

    Marius watched a young couple exchange rings before him and clapped when they smiled at each other before they kissed. He smiled wide too and nodded as the guests in his hall erupted into wild cheers, toasting the young couple’s happiness.

    The couple ended their kiss and their peers pulled them to the large circle made in the middle of the room for a dance. It warmed Marius’s heart to see a new pair start a family in his clan.

    “Have a drink, Marius,” Lasma said. “Come sit with me and let the young ones dance.”

    Lasma was his wife and they had been married for twenty-five years. They gave the clan two children. A girl named Alise who was the next chieftain. Alise was twenty-four years old. And their son, Azula who was only twenty.

    Of his two children, Marius worried about Azula most. His son was a skillful warrior and a talented blacksmith. Azula ran wild and preferred life at the Sura Mountain, swimming in the lake where their ancestral home stood, and eating sweet and sour chicken roasted by his dear godfather, Magnus.

    Marius sometimes blamed his second cousin, Magnus, for allowing Azula such unbridled freedom. He was convinced Magnus was the reason Azula shunned any attempts to civilize him. He could only dream of seeing Azula dress in formal robes and stand in a room like this without causing trouble.

    “Thinking about Azula?” Lasma asked, sitting next to him.

    “How did you know?”

    “You always have a frown when you think of Azula,” Lasma said, pressing the pad of her index finger on his forehead. “He is young, only twenty years of age. He does good work running our ancestral home and the mines without us. Give him time.”

    “I hope daily that he will be able to support Alise in her work.”

    “Alise is strong on her own,” Lasma said, her gaze shifting to their daughter across the room.

    Alise stood surrounded by the members of the chief’s council, two men and two women. They looked in deep discussion. Alise spoke and the others listened to her with rapt attention.

    “She grows to look like you every day,” Marius said, studying his eldest daughter.

    Alise, like everyone in the Sura clan, had thick strawberry blonde hair. It grew long and she kept it in a tight braided ponytail. She had green eyes, an oval face, fair skin and a slender figure. She was five foot three, but her personality more than made up for the lack of height.

    Alise was dressed in a beautiful light yellow dress with long skirts, and a gold knitted belt at her waist. The oval ilmenite jewel hanging at the end of the belt was the only indication of her station. Her smile was ready. Although when she was discussing business, it rarely made an appearance.

    “She is managing the clan’s affairs,” Lasma said, with a wistful smile.

    “Do you think she will choose her husband soon?” Marius asked, wondering when he was going to get to hold grandchildren.

    Lasma chuckled.

    “You told her you did not like Yemin,” Lasma said. “Alise and Yemin have been close for a year.”

    Marius let out a huff at the mention of the strong warrior who helped them run the workshops in the capital city. Yemin was tall at six feet. He forged the best swords, second only to Azula, but he was conceited.

    Marius worried he would make trouble for Alise, if they married.

    “Why can’t she choose Juya?” Marius asked, his gaze on the young man standing next to Alise. “He is smart, manages our accounts and can tell apart precious tones with a single look. He dresses well, and is part of the council so he understands Alise’s responsibilities.”

    “We are Sura, my love,” Lasma said, sitting back. She nibbled on carrot slice and smiled. “We follow our hearts when it comes to marriage. Don’t look down on Alise’s choice. She’s the only one who knows why Yemin is the right one.”

    Marius sighed and shook his head when Lasma handed him a fresh carrot stick from the platter on the table before them.

    “You’re right. Look at this, I’ve allowed you to turn me into a rabbit,” Marius complained as he ate the carrot slice.

    “I’m nurturing your health,” Lasmas said. “When Alise comes to you with Yemin, promise to give them your consent.”

    Marius grumbled but he agreed with a nod. The side door opened, and he turned to see his secretary rushing to him. He looked worried.

    “What is it, Torak?” Marius asked.

    Torak sighed as he came to a stop next to Marius. He was dressed down in leather trousers and a white cotton tunic. Noting the curious gazes everyone was giving him, he took in a deep breath and leaned in closer to Marius and Lasma.

    “There has been another robbery,” Torak said. “The third one this past week. This last one makes it six missing cargo carriages in total. We are running short of burnt ore here in the capital. The workshops are behind on orders. The robbers killed the drivers. We must plan two more funerals.”

    “Where is Yemin?” Marius asked.

    “Yemin is on the route doing his best to guide the search for the six missing cargo carriages. He is also handling the funeral arrangements for the two affected families,” Torak said. “He told me to mention that the thieves might have other motives. The carriages have not made it to Genad City.”

    A cloud of anxiety filled Marius’s chest as he glanced at Lasma. He was afraid Yemin was right. The uneasy feeling that had been plaguing Marius since the first robbery of their cargo carriages increased.

    “Send a message to Azula,” Marius said to Torak, holding Lasma’s gaze. “Have Azula escort the next shipment of burnt ore in person. Tell him to take precautions.”

    “Yes, Chief,” Torak said, starting to leave, but then he paused. “What about Yemin and the men on the route?”

    “Ask Yemin to concentrate on the funerals,” Marius said, his frown deepening. “They will not find the cargo carriages. Let Azula handle the robbery issue. When the funerals end, Yemin should bring me a report of how much black ore is left in each of our workshops. We need him here handling our failed orders.”

    “Okay,” Torak hurried off.

    Lasma took Marius’s left hand and squeezed.

    “This is not the first time we’ve encountered theft,” Lasma said. “But this episode is extreme and vicious. We also cannot find the cargo carriages. What do you think these thieves want?”

    “I’m afraid whatever it is does not bode well for the Sura,” Marius said, his gaze on Alise.

    As though sensing his unease, Alise excused herself from the council members and made her way to their table.

    “Another robbery?” Alise asked when she was close enough, keeping her voice low.

    “Yes,” Marius said with a grim nod. “We have now lost twelve of our seasoned drivers. The transport team is losing morale.”

    Alise leaned on the table. She picked up the tail of her gold belt and played with the woven gold. She bit her lip in thought, and then frowned.

    “Yemin suspects the ore thefts are tied to the cases of forged silver coins,” Alise said. “It’s a speculation—”

    “A dangerous one,” Marius said, sitting up straight as he studied Alise. “We cannot be implicated in silver coin forgery, Alise. Our clan will suffer enormous ruin.”

    “I know,” Alise said, shaking her head. “But what if the person robbing our black ore is helping the forgers? What should we do?”

    “Do the best we can to thwart the culprit’s plan,” Lasma said, answering for Marius. “Help the blacksmiths with inventory in all our workshops. Make sure the ledgers are completed. Melt any molds we have that make small coins. Your dad might need to visit the magistrate’s office to report this case.”

    Alise pushed off the table and started to leave.

    “Alise,” Marius said, making her stop to look at him. “Yemin is a good man. Ask him to visit our manor for a meal when he has finished with the funerals. Tell him he will like your mother’s sweet and sour chicken. He had better show up if you’re ever to help him braid his hair.”

    Alise smiled wide and ran to kiss Marius’s right cheek.

    Marius grinned with pleasure.

    “Thank you, Papa,” Alise said, then hurried away.

    Lasma squeezed Mariu’s hand, and Marius glanced at her.

    “Forging silver coins is treason,” Marius said, hoping to ease her concern. “If someone is plotting against us, we need to be careful. Anything could happen. You are right. It’s best to report the matter of stolen black ore to the magistrate. Then, I shall reach out to the old Draeya general from Naga County. He may have a solution.”

    “He is a good man,” Lasma said. “I’m more concerned for Azula. He will have to face these thieves on the way to the capital. Do you think he will make it?”

    Marius smiled.

    “Azula outsmarts wild tigers in our mountain. He designed the tracks that run our mines and even the cargo carriages we use. Azula might not catch the thieves, but they will not rob him,” Marius said, his voice filled with pride. “He won’t give them the chance.”

    “So much praise, I almost can’t believe you were worried about him earlier,” Lasma said, grinning.

    “Azula is Azula,” Marius said, his voice wistful. “I’ll be glad to have him in the capital. Maybe we can get him to wear a nice pair of clothes like Juya. I think Azula would look better.”

    Lasma chuckled.

    “Azula is more likely to kiss Juya for dressing that well.”

    “If he would make an effort,” Marius said, “Juya might think of kissing him too.”

    Lasma laughed then and shook her head.

    “I bet he is neck-deep in mud at the moment, making trouble for Magnus,” Marius speculated.

    “Or climbing trees, and ripping his tunics,” Lasma countered. “Poor Alva is constantly sewing his clothes.”

    “And Kalas and Sennin are always chasing after him, hoping he doesn’t break his legs,” Marius said with a sigh that descended into a chuckle. “I truly do miss him.”

    ****

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 1-4

    Arc 1 – The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 1-4

    A month later, Raithion Maenaer stood next to his parents watching his second sister’s lavish wedding unfold.

    Guests filled the large front hall of his father’s new manor in the capital.

    There were familiar faces, relatives, and friends from Draeya. Those Raithion welcomed with a full smile.

    However, the unfamiliar faces, like the prime minister and his band of allies, those Raithion approached with caution.

    Each one of them attended the wedding to see the generous event prepared with the help of Basileus Dio’s full support. They wanted to get a glimpse of General Maenaer and understand the reason why the general was now favored.

    Noriel’s wedding was playing the part of introducing their Maenaer family to the capital.

    Raithion wished they could avoid the extravagance, but it was difficult to pull his father away from a chosen path.

    Noriel and her groom entered the large hall accompanied by the sound of melodic string instruments. They walked along the aisle formed between the seats, their steps slow and steady.

    Noriel’s wedding dress was made using the finest red silk they could find in the imperial workshops. The colorful butterflies embroidered by the palace embroidery were stunning. The most skilled Sura artisans created the gold pieces arranged in her long mink black hair.

    Festival managers in the imperial palace chose the assorted flowers arranged on stands in intervals on the path to the dais. The banquet to come after was prepared by the palace kitchens. This wedding fit the word extraordinary.

    Raithion could only hope his sister enjoyed extraordinary happiness in her marriage.

    Noriel’s groom was handsome in red. The palace had also prepared his wedding clothes. The red cloak on his shoulders trailed behind him embroidered with the same butterflies on Noriel’s train. The groom smiled hard at Noriel in clear happiness, holding her right hand with his left as they approached the dais.

    Raithion liked Noriel’s husband-to-be.

    Even though he was sure that some of the groom’s happiness came from the minor title he would receive from the Basileus. It wasn’t every day a common man became a viscount on the merit of marrying a Marquis’s daughter.

    Raithion sighed at the Basileus’s clear extravagant treatment of his family.

    Basileus Dio was painting a clear target on their faces and backs. The political class in the room watched Noriel and her groom with interest and intent.

    Raithion’s worry grew another inch.

    “Smile, Raith,” Thanir said next to him. “Noriel is watching you. She will be anxious if you don’t look happy at her wedding.”

    Raithion pushed away his misgivings and his lips curved into a smile when he met Noriel’s wary gaze. He winked at her, and she smiled. Her lips curved into a beautiful smile under the sheer red veil she wore. She clutched her bouquet of wild red flowers tighter.

    Raithion chuckled and glanced at his new brother-in-law.

    Hujan gave him an acknowledging nod when their gazes met.

    Raithion returned the nod knowing that he would now have to include Hujan in his list of important people.

    A list that included his mother and father, Thanir and Silveren. His younger sisters, Noriel and Soriel. His mother’s two brothers and their families. Thanir’s three sisters and their families, and his brothers in arms.

    Now, Noriel’s husband, Hujan would join their Maenaer Clan.

    Thanir and his wife, Silveren, moved to stand at their table arranged to the right of the dais. Hujan’s parents also stood at a table to the left of the dais.

    Basileus Dio stood at the highest point of the dais between the parents.

    Noriel and Hujan reached the front and stopped.

    Noriel held her husband’s left elbow tight as she looked up at the Basileus.

    Basileus Dio stepped down from where his chair was arranged on the high dais and faced the couple. He looked especially handsome in the midday sunlight. His Adertha brown hair was trimmed to his shoulders and fell in healthy waves.

    A gold crown that looked like woven leaves was wedged tight on his head.

    His tunic was red with gold embroidery on the hems. He wore fitting dark trousers that disappeared into handsome burgundy boots decorated with intricate gold metal engravings. A long rich burgundy overcoat topped the outfit. The length of it sweeping the ground. The embroidery on the hems and cuffs would have taken ages to complete.

    Basileus Dios wore his imperial clothes with ease. He looked comfortable in his own skin and rank. He faced Noriel and Hujan with unending confidence.

    “Lady Noriel Maenaer, are you willing to tie your fate to Hujan Draug for the rest of your days?” Basileus Dio asked, his voice solemn enough for the occasion. His voice rang in the large hall, holding the attention of all the guests in the room.

    “Yes, I am willing,” Noriel said, her voice shaky with nerves.

    “Lord Hujan Draug, are you willing to tie your fate to Noriel Maenaer? To protect her, the children you make together, and the family you forge for the rest of your days?”

    “Yes, I am willing,” Hujan said without hesitation.

    The strength of his voice as he made the promise settled some of Raithion’s concerns.

    “Bring the rings,” Dio said, his gaze shifting to the young woman standing behind Noriel.

    Raithion smiled as he watched his little sister, Soriel, hold out a small silver tray holding two green jade rings. Hujan took one and with Dio’s nod, slid the ring onto Noriel’s left index finger.

    Soriel grinned when Noriel’s hand shook when it was her turn. She murmured a few words to Noriel, and then stepped back behind Noriel. Dio’s gaze followed her and Raithion tried to ignore the Basileus clear interest.

    Dio returned his attention to Noriel, and gave her a clear nod. Noriel smiled as she slid the ring on Hujan’s left index finger. They clasped their left hands for all to see the union, as Dio spoke to the room.

    “I, Dio, Basileus of the Lyria Empire, do hereby bind your fates and declare you wedded. Two turned to one for the rest of your days in the viscount house styled Draug. Forever, Lady and Lord Draug to the empire. Hujan and Noriel, bow to your parents thank them for their care, and face the world as one from this day forth.”

    Noriel and Hujan turned first to Hujan’s parents and gave them a formal bow.

    They then turned to Thanir and Silveren and bowed.

    Raithion hid a smile when he saw his mother wiping away tears.

    Silveren nodded in approval when Noriel and Hujan straightened up and faced Basileus Dio. To Dio’s surprise, the couple bowed to him too.

    Then, Hujan lifted his wife’s sheer red veil over the crown of jewels in her hair, before they turned to face their guests as a married couple.

    Raithion clapped in congratulations. He grinned at his little sister, Soriel, who winked at him from her position next to Noriel. She was helping Noriel with the long train of her dress. She looked just as happy seeing Noriel find her place.

    An attendant brought Raithion a goblet filled with sweet wine made from grapes.

    Raithion was to make the first toast to his sister’s happiness and open the wedding’s festivities. He waited until Basileus Dio settled in the chair on the dais, and then the parents sat at their designated chairs behind their tables.

    Noriel and Hujan remained standing looking at Raithion with expectant gazes.

    Raithion took the goblet from the attendant and stepped up to stand on Noriel’s right side, facing Hujan. He held his new brother-in-law’s gaze.

    “My name is Raithion Maener. I am Lady Draug’s big brother. I stand here to thank you all for attending this happy occasion as my sister marries her beloved, Hujan Draug. Our family is most grateful to Basileus Dio for the kindness he has shown us.”

    Raithion looked to Basileus Dio and lifted his goblet in a toast.

    “Long live, Basileus Dio.”

    Raithion was glad when the room repeated the toast after him.

    “Long live, Basileus Dio.”

    Raithion gave the Basileus a formal bow, bringing his right hand to his chest, and bowing his head. Dio lifted his hand with an acknowledging nod in answer, releasing Raithion’s formality.

    Raithion continued his speech, knowing to keep it short when Noriel gave him a discreet glare.

    “I’ve looked after Noriel since she was born. I’ve been her guardian for twenty-four years now,” Raithion said, meeting Hujan’s gaze again. “It is difficult to know that she will no longer live under our Maenaer house. I must tell you, Hujan. I have considered stealing her away from you these last few months and hiding her away. You see, as the eldest in the family, I’ve been afraid our family will miss eating the delicious mint toffee Noriel makes. You would have to taste it to understand my concern for this imminent lack in our Maenaer house.”

    The room erupted into chuckles and Raithion grinned when Noriel threatened to pinch him. She looked radiant today, even as she attempted to glare at him and failed.  Her dark hair shone in the light, held in place by beautiful gold pins. Noriel made a beautiful bride.

    “Brother, you will always be welcome into our home for a taste,” Hujan said in answer to Raithion’s lament.

    Raithion let out a dramatic sigh and pressed his free hand to his chest.

    “I’m very relieved to hear you say so, brother,” Raithion said, staring into his goblet of wine for a moment.  “Still, I felt I had to let you know that I have worried about Noriel leaving our home and moving into a new one. Our family has protected her. Guarded her smiles and joys. We are a big family: our parents, my youngest sister and I, Maenaer uncles and aunts, our brothers in service, we’ve all given the best to Noriel. We hope she remains happy in every thought and action we take, now and forever.”

    “Your care has turned me into the luckiest woman in this empire,” Noriel said, looking at Raithion, her green eyes bright with tears.

    “We’re the lucky ones to have you,” Raithion said. “This brings me to the point of my speech, Hujan. You see, as a family, we agreed to come to terms with the imminent lack of mint toffee in our house.”

    “Raith,” Noriel said, her tone complaining, as everyone chuckled again.

    “This is because, I, being one of the many guardians of Noriel’s joys, cannot in good conscious keep her away from Hujan. Our family noticed how you make her smile and laugh. We chose to listen when she made the choice to stand next to you for the rest of her life. We understood that she has decided you are the keeper of her future. So, our Maenaer family can only support her wholeheartedly.”

    “Hujan Draug,” Raithion held his goblet up in a toast. “Today, you are wed to Noriel Maenaer. She enters your family, but you enter ours too. We give you a treasure, and we hope you cherish her as she is, as she will cherish you. I, Raithion Maenaer, promise to stand as your brother, as I am hers, and to protect your family’s happiness as I’ve always done for Noriel. A toast to your happy marriage.”

    Raithion drank the wine in the goblet until it ended. He turned the goblet over to show that it was empty. He then held out his right arm to Hujan and pulled him into a warrior’s hug.

    Hujan returned his hug with a wide smile and held Raithion tight before he let go.

    Raithion turned to Noriel and sighed when he saw tears in her eyes.

    “Don’t cry, Nori,” Raithion said and leaned in to kiss both her cheeks. “You make a beautiful bride.”

    “I love you, Raith.”

    “I love you too.”

    Raithion hugged her for a moment and then turned her over to her husband.

    The room erupted into applause as Raithion stepped aside to allow the couple to greet their guests as a married pair. An attendant touched his left arm, letting him know that Basileus Dio wanted a word with him.

    Raithion looked up to the dais and found Dio watching him with expectation.

    Raithion walked up to the dais and stood on the right side of the massive chair the Basileus was using.

    “Your love for Noriel is touching,” Dio said, his voice wistful. “I am jealous of her. You make me wish I was part of your Maenaer family when I hear your loyalty to them.”

    Raithion held his tongue unsure how to respond.

    Basileus Dio was a man he wanted to consider a friend, but their difference in status made the thought seem absurd.

    Dio was an emperor, a king of kings, so powerful that he could hold the fate of Raithion’s legion in the palm of his hand with a single word.

    They were unequal and could never be friends, only master and servant.

    Yet, Dio persisted in the pursuit of friendship. He had not given up since their first meeting. The first time Thanir brought him and his sisters to the palace to meet the Basileus. Dio called him brother that day. Raithion could only see the head of the empire.

    “Lord General Draeya, do you still not consider me your brother?” Dio asked, his gaze on Noriel and Hujan who were greeting the prime minister’s family.

    “You are Basileus,” Raithion said, his tone respectful.

    “Your tone suggests otherwise. I suppose it will have to be enough for now that I consider you my brother,” Dio said with a soft sigh. “Lord General, I have a task that is making me worry. I don’t want to send you out there in pursuit of Gesi Ajai’s accomplices but I can’t trust anyone else.”

    Raithion held his words again. He lived a life of orders. His commanders gave orders and he executed them to perfection.

    Basileus was the highest office in the land.

    Raithion had no choice but to follow the man’s orders.

    “Be at ease, Basileus,” Raithion said after a moment. “I promise to complete the task you give and return to give you a report.”

    Dio looked at him then, his dark gaze unreadable.

    Raithion wondered what Dio was thinking when a little frown creased his forehead.

    “It looks like we still have time before you consider me one of the ones close to you,” Dio said with a small smile. “I wish to earn your trust faster. I want the right to call you Raithion, Lord General. Or even Raith as your beloved sisters do.”

    Raithion lowered his head unsure how to respond to Dio’s words.

    “What is your order, Basileus Dio?” he asked instead.

    Dio cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. His right hand resting on the arm of his chair. The red jade ring on his right thumb was the absolute symbol of his station.

    “A message from one of your father’s people arrived last night. An unknown player is watching the Sura clansmen at the port on the southeast coast. I would like you to find out why and if possible capture one of these unknown players. I grow anxious thinking about the results of the counterfeiting case. Do you think you can manage this task?”

    “Yes, Basileus Dio,” Raithion said with a single nod. “I’ll head out this evening after the festivities and my sister’s wedding is over.”

    “Thank you,” Dio said, giving Raithion a small smile. “Be careful out there, I don’t want to have to watch your family worry about you. I will look after them while you are away.”

    Raithion nodded his agreement and started to step away but Dio continued.

    “If you are worried about eating mint toffee in your Maenaer house, I can have one of the attendants learn how Noriel makes it,” Dio said. “Then, your house will not be without it.”

    Raithion could not help his chuckle.

    “What?” Dio asked, glancing at Raithion.

    “Noriel learned her skill from our mother,” Raithion said, looking to his parents who sat watching their daughter mingle with the world as a married woman. Their expressions were a mix of happiness, relief, and sadness.

    “I told Hujan of the scarcity to remind him that Noriel would always have a place in our house. If he wrongs her, we’ll take her back.”

    “Do you think he understood your intention?” Dio asked, amused.

    “If he did not understand, I will help him understand if it comes to it,” Raithion said, making Dio laugh.

    The sound drew interested gazes. Raithion was quick to note the Prime Minister’s clear interest in him.

    “Now I truly want to make you my true brother, Lord General,” Dio said, when his laugh ended. “What about you? When do you plan to marry? Or do you want to take in your father’s choice for you?”

    “I don’t have plans to marry yet,” Raithion said, shaking his head. He never thought about marriage. “Lately, I have all these orders to carry out for Basileus Dio. When can I get married?”

    “It’s good to dream of having someone you can return home to, call your own,” Dio said with a soft chuckle. “Someone to guard your smiles and happiness, as you said earlier. If you have no time, I’ll take responsibility and help you find someone.”

    Raithion nodded his thanks. He had long understood that he was not one of the lucky ones who married for love. Like Noriel and even his youngest sister. His marriage would be designed to help defend Basileus Dio’s position.

    Raithion was part of his father’s promise to Basileus Rokas.

    Raithion clasped his hands at his back and turned his attention to Noriel and Hujan who were now heading down the aisle to the open doors. They would start a procession that would end at Hujan’s manor where a party would continue until the late hours of the night.

    “The wedding is done. Hujan and Noriel are bound. I know your parents planned a celebration to honor the accomplishment. Your guests will not be free if I’m still here. I should return to the palace,” Basileus Dio said, getting up. “The rest is up to you, Lord General. Your father will have the details of the suspects. I look forward to your news.”

    “I thank you for blessing my sister’s marriage,” Raithion said.

    “It was my honor,” Dio said, then stepped down from the dais and followed the couple out of the hall with a small smile on his handsome face.

    Raithion frowned when Dio reached the exit and paused next to Raithion’s little sister, Soriel.

    Soriel held her sister’s bouquet of red wildflowers and her own, which was full of purple flowers.

    Dio took a good look at Soriel, and then plucked a red flower from Noriel’s bunch.

    Raithion froze when Dio then tucked the flower behind Soriel’s right ear, his fingers brushing the soft strands of her jet-black hair out of the way.

    Dio winked at Soriel, who blushed hard and stepped back. The Basileus chuckled and then stepped out into the sunny afternoon.

    Raithion shuddered. It scared him to think of Dio making Soriel his Basilinna.

    Soriel was too young to take on that monstrous position. She had just turned twenty this year. The Maenaer family was not strong enough to cope with the pressure.

    Raithion needed a lot more power than he had now to be able to protect a Basilinna.

    Worried, Raithion glanced at his father. He was not shocked to find his father watching Soriel too. What did surprise him was the clear pleased anticipation he read on his father’s face.

    Thanir Maenaer’s clear ambition made Raithion’s heart shake.

    “Raith,” Silveren called to him.

    “Yes, Mom,” Raithion hurried down the steps of the dais to stand next to his mother.

    “What a lovely speech you gave,” Silveren said, taking his right hand, her fingers soft on his callused ones. She squeezed his hand. “I promise to make an even better one when you wed. I don’t know who will be deserving of you, but I am grateful you will not be leaving our house and will instead be bringing back someone. I’ll miss Noriel, but I’m glad she is married. Now, we just need to worry about Soriel.”

    Raithion grinned at her and relaxed at her clear joy. He decided to enjoy the festivities for the next few hours before he started the dangerous journey to the port on the southeast coast of Naga State.

    “Get a chair, child, sit next to me,” Silveren said. “Let’s have wine to celebrate Noriel’s wedding.”

    Raithion pulled a chair close to her and sat, accepting a goblet of wine from her. He pressed the rim to hers and sipped with a smile.

    Outside, the fiddlers started a lively tune as the procession started.

    Raithion toasted his sister with their guests for the rest of the afternoon.

    At midnight, he changed into his travel leathers, donned a dark cloak over his shoulders, and left Marquis Draeya’s manor in the cover of darkness. His most trusted legion brothers joined him after he left the capital city, led by Haedor. They formed a team of fifteen as they took the main road riding to the port found at the coast of Naga State.

    ****

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 1-3

    Arc 1 -The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 1-3

    Three weeks later, Dio Adertha, the fifty-first Basileus of the Lyria Empire, paced the length of a small room waiting for an unexpected visitor. Each step he took was with purpose. He clasped his hands behind his back as he cultivated patience.

    Soon, his thoughts lingered on the past instead of dwelling on the waiting.

    Dio thought about his father, the previous Basileus.

    At the end of the Lyria Imperial Year 1335, the reigning Basileus, Rokas Adertha, abdicated his throne due to health concerns and made Dio the new Basileus.

    Then, on the first month of the Imperial Year 1336, a year into his reign, Dio was still learning the imperial court’s in and outs when his father called him to his residential chambers. He remembered the moment as clear as day.

    Rokas was ill but still able to move around on his own.

    Dio found his father sitting up in a chair by the large windows in his chambers.

    Rokas gave Dio a solemn cryptic warning that morning.

    ‘Beware of Witia,’ Rokas said. ‘The sugarcane state in the Southwest. If trouble starts, call on Maenaer of Draeya. He is your strength. Lean on his marquis house for support. His loyalties belong to Adertha. He shall help you stabilize the empire. Trust only Maenaer. Don’t share my warning with your retainers.’

    Rokas’s warning left Dio unnerved.

    More so when Rokas died two months later. His father was not one to leave unimportant words.

    Yet, Dio could not share them with anyone in his palace, not his secretaries, least of all his prime minister. Endless sorrow and worry descended on Dio.

    However, this worry started to fade, as the pressures of his role as Basileus grew heavier.

    Dio soon came to realize that the politics in his capital city of Genad had changed after his father’s death.

    A clear struggle for power was brewing between two powerful political parties: the prime minister’s libert, and the opposition party named populi.

    Populi had a hidden master, one that worried the prime minister.

    The two parties were locked in a vicious fight for control of important government offices, ministries, and industries.

    Dio could only focus on the constant tide of mediation between the two parties in his parliament. Soon, he forgot his father’s warning

    Two years passed in this constant turmoil.

    Until three days ago, on the sixth month of the Imperial Year 1338, when an interesting request for a meeting made its way to Dio’s office.

    A general with the last name Maenaer sent a note wanting to meet Dio and reminisce about the past.

    Dio had no reason to grant the request. He would have refused it but then he remembered his father’s warning. The name Maenaer filled him with speculation, and so, he agreed to meet the mysterious general.

    It was mid-afternoon.

    Dio stopped pacing and stood next to a white marble statue of one of his more illustrious ancestors. He studied the armor on the statue and wondered what his ancestor would say of the current rule in the kingdom.

    In his ancestor’s time, the people respected the strong warriors. A struggle for power between soft imperial courtiers would not exist. This ancestor of his would probably think the current Basileus had gone soft too.

    Shaking his head, Dio turned when the door opened and one of his bodyguards led in his strange guest.

    The older man who walked in was tall and filled with the aura of a seasoned general. He was dressed in a long black coat with a peculiar finish. The heavy fabric shone in the sunlight as he walked as though the black thread was inlaid with silver strands. Intricate silver wire designs decorated the cuffs and lapels of the general’s coat. His knee-length black books were made of fine leather, their soles thick, and durable.

    This old general looked in his late sixties.

    Yet, he stood tall, his back straight. His hair was the only part of him that showed his age. It was shoulder-length and as white as fresh snow. The long strands were held back with simple braids at his temple. The braids were tied together at the back with a silver clip to match the silver on the cuffs.

    Dio met the general’s gaze and surprise filled him when he looked into light brown eyes that looked at him with challenge. The general stopped a few feet away from him and lowered his head in a short bow.

    “Thanir Maenaer from the Draeya Clan greets the Basileus. I am honored you agreed to meet me.”

    “I’m more curious about you, General Maenaer,” Dio said, studying Thanir’s bowed head. “What is your relationship with Basileus Rokas?”

    Thanir responded by dropping to his right knee. He brought his right hand to his chest in a show of loyalty.

    “I owe Basileus Rokas a debt of blood. He saved my wife’s life when she was pregnant with my first-born son. In turn, I pledged my life to the Adertha House. He never gave me a chance to repay this debt when he was alive. He only made me promise to find you, Basileus Dio, two years after his death.”

    “Why?” Dio asked, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Why would he ask you to find me?”

    “This subject will answer the Basileus with a story. Twenty-seven years ago, Basileus Rokas stayed in my clan’s home during a great flood in our small Draeya County in the Naga State. Our county is named after the lake that sustains our lands. When it rains, the river that feeds the lake overflows. Basileus Rokas visited our county to help us find a lasting solution.”

    “He tasked me with the job of constructing dykes, and dams, adding vegetation, and cutting terrace slopes to help us reduce damage. We even built a reservoir the county now uses for growing rice. While I was out working with his forces, my wife fell into danger when I was not home.”

    “Basileus Rokas saved her and my unborn son, going to great lengths to find skilled doctors to save her life when she went into labor. Soon, I returned home. Basileus Rokas awarded my clansmen for the good work of controlling the overflow of water. He styled my house a title, making this small official and his wife, Marquis and Marchioness Draeya.”

    “Basileus Rokas praised me for my service but I was too grateful for his unprecedented efforts to save my wife and child.  I swore a blood oath to protect his Adertha House should he ever need it.”

    “Lord Draeya,” Dio said. “My father valued officials who performed great feats for our empire. Please stand. I cannot be responsible for making your knees hurt in my hall.”

    Thanir dropped his hands to his sides and rose to his feet.

    Dio indicated for them to sit on the two armchairs a few feet away from the white statue.

    Thanir waited until Dio settled before he sat.

    “Four months before Basileus Rokas abdicated the throne to you, he wrote me a letter,” Thanir said, reaching into his coat pocket. He retrieved a tightly rolled paper tied with a red string. The royal seal on the paper was long broken.

    Thanir handed the letter to Dio and fell silent waiting for Dio to read the contents.

    Dio felt his heart squeeze in excitement when he recognized his father’s handwriting. The elegant strokes of Rokas’s handwriting, so sure and seasoned. His heart skipped with joy at the pleasure of reading his father’s words after a long time.

    Warm greetings filled the first paragraph of the letter.

    Dio noticed that his father called the Marquis by his given name, Thanir. They were old friends. Then, there was a paragraph asking about the Marquis’ children, and the oldest Maenaer son named Raithion.

    Dio assumed Raithion was the heir to Thanir’s title.

    After the greetings, came a paragraph of concerns…

    ‘…Thanir, I write you now at the sunset of my illustrious life because I worry about Dio's future. I worry about the Lyria Empire's future. People from Witia State have made troubling moves of late.
If you remember, Dio's mother is a daughter from Witia. To my greatest worry, Basilinna Olneth has been tolerant of her brothers in Witia.
In her complacency, she has encouraged her brothers to support a cobra-like courtier named Gesi Ajai. He is an ambitious man working against the Prime Minister in the Populi party. For now, he plots to join the imperial court in any capacity. I've been unable to stall his efforts, as there are no obvious reasons to do it.
I'm also afraid Ajai has noticed my dislike of him.
Adding to my suspicions, of late, I have developed stomach pains that leave me bedridden for days. The physician cannot find the cause, which has made me come to my own conclusions. I worry Ajai's ambitions are now targeted at the palace. I have no proof for you, only speculation.
Dio is still young. He is twenty-five years of age. Two years younger than my adopted son, Raith. Dio has not chosen a Basilinna to bring into the palace. He tells me he hopes to marry for love. I worry Ajai might try to interrupt or manipulate his choices.
Old friend, I never once wanted to take advantage of your blood oath. I have always considered you my brother. However, I am left with no choice. Allow me to invoke old debts, and ask you to protect my son when I'm no longer able. I hope I can remove Ajai from Dio's path before he has to take my place.
If I fail, I ask you to take my place and help my son protect Lyria.
Attached find an imperium to assist you in the hard work you will surely have to face in my absence.
Use it if I'm gone and you discover Gesi Ajai making things difficult for Dio. I wish you and Silveren all the best. It is my hope and wish that my son, Dio, will find the same friendship I found in you with your son, and my adopted son, Raithion.
I thank you in advance, Rokas.'

    Folded under the letter was an imperium with the imperial insignia, signed and sealed by Basileus Rokas Adertha.

    This imperium is given by Basileus Rokas Adertha investing power in the Marquis Draeya, Thanir Maenaer, and his family, to form a private army and have undisputable power to act in the defense of the Lyria Empire, and Basileus Dio. Maenaer will protect the empire's best interests as directed by Basileus Dio.

    Dio stared at the order for a moment caught between relief and fear. His father’s concerns were heavy and heartbreaking.

    Rokas’s last words finally gained meaning.

    Dio almost wished the order in his hands did not exist. That it did exist meant the empire was going to endure a period of turmoil. Worry and relief filled him up, fighting for dominance.

    He sighed when relief won over.

    Dio looked at Marquis Draeya to find the old general watching him with a wary gaze.

    “Who is Raithion? Does Marquis Draeya know that my father’s adopted son is my brother?” Dio asked, smiling at Thanir’s concerned expression.

    Thanir let out a relieved sigh and returned his smile.

    “Raithion is waiting outside with his younger sisters,” Thanir said. “We are walking around the capital in the pretext of buying jewels for my second-born daughter. Noriel is getting married. She is hoping for your blessings for her wedding. If you grant the blessings, we can then return to Draeya without rousing Gesi Ajai’s suspicion.”

    “Well thought out,” Dio said with an approving nod. “Tell me, Marquis Draeya, what made you seek me out?”

    “I have much to confess, Basileus,” Thanir said, and stood. He reached into a second pocket hidden in his coat and produced two more scrolls.

    Dio took the scrolls, making sure to hand back his father’s letter and the imperium to Thanir for sake keeping.

    Opening the rough scrolls from Thanir, Dio found two notes.

    “Counterfeit silver coins are creating sporadic unrest in the capital. The guards stationed in the exchange bureaus are doing their best to keep the citizens in check, but the tension is on the verge of breaking into protests. A solution is needed to handle the influx of counterfeit silver coins,” Dio read.

    He looked at Thanir.

    “I have received the same reports,” Dio said. “I ordered the Prime Minister and one of my generals to take the matter in hand. They have appointed an inspector general to take on the case. I understand they are collecting the counterfeit silvers with the intention of finding the source. When did their efforts lead to the point of clear upheaval?”

    “The exchange bureaus are confiscating hard-earned silver coins from the people,” Thanir said. “There is no easy way to soothe the people’s anger unless we stop the counterfeiting. This case has pulled me back to this capital. I need your authority to find the true culprit behind the counterfeiting case. This incident is not so simple.”

    “Other than damaging our economy to gain wealth as the courtiers often do, what else could be the goal?”

    “My suspicions are not solid enough,” Thanir started.

    “Marquis Draeya, tell me anyway,” Dio insisted. “I would like it very much if you were not afraid to share your opinions with me.”

    Thanir paced away from the chair next to Dio. He rubbed his forehead with his right hand for a moment. He stopped and seemed to make a decision before he turned to face Dio.

    “I have acted without permission and asked Raith to seek out answers. We have collected evidence that leads us to the conclusion that someone is working to destabilize the imperial court. Most of the counterfeit silver coins are forged using iron extracted from burnt ore mined in the Sura Mountain. This burnt ore is found on an island called Sura. The people living on this island are a clan of two thousand, five hundred and twenty-three strong. They call themselves the Sura Clan,” Thanir said.

    Dio sat back reviewing the same information from his days in the classroom under his tutor’s watchful eye.

    Sura Mountain once spewed liquid fire in the distant past. It had turned dormant for a long time. The people who lived on the island formed by the explosions had learned how to mine. They developed a strong clan filled with miners, refiners of metal, blacksmiths, and artisans.

    The Sura had a unique trait. They were all born with strawberry-blonde hair. The color marked by the sheen of gold and a mix of white. It was easy to identify them in a crowd. It was even easier to spot their talent while looking at the metal items they made.

    “The Sura are well known for their talent with manipulating metal. They run metal workshops that contribute to the creation of farming tools, and any items made with metal including jewelry,” Dio said. “The gold swords my father carried were crafted by one of their artisans and gifted to my family by their chieftain.”

    “Yes. The current Sura Chieftain is Marius Doriel,” Thanir continued, despite Dio’s comments. “Basileus Rokas granted the Sura Clan a home in the capital where Lord Doriel and his fellow clan work and trade. They manage three large smelting workshops in the capital city. They also manage a residence by the port on the Southeast coast of Naga State. That is where the burnt ore enters Lyria.”

    Dio frowned, studying Thanir, trying to understand why the general was fixated on a mining clan. They were common enough. He knew two other mining clans based in the State of Storait in the northeast, and there was one in Brusan State. The Brusan clan mined precious jewels, their value far more larger than the Sura.

    Witia State also had a gold mine, Dio thought. His grandmother’s clan managed one. It was how she managed to marry the Basileus.

    Naga State was the only state that did not provide mined products. Instead, they produced most of the rice in the empire.

    Why would the Sura island clan become so important?

    Thanir sensed his doubt.

    “The Sura Clan specializes in the development of steel. Our Draeya Clan has commissioned its seasoned blacksmiths countless times. They make strong swords, and other types of weapons,” Thanir said. “They are an important part of the empire. Their wealth grows, and their purpose changes depending on the client. If I were Gesi Ajai, I might want to curb their influence or take it over for myself. The workshops held by the Sura in the capital are on a granted lease. The lease agreement is controlled by the Ministry of Finance.”

    Dio stood too, his eyes wide with shock.

    His father had been worried Gesi Ajai was targeting one of the important ministries in the imperial court. The ministry of finance was a powerful weapon. The empire flourished in trade and agriculture.

    If a villain tampered with either…

    Dio hissed. Why had he not seen it?

    His father was right. His gaze shifted to the old general. Thanir Maener was the most valuable advisor Dio would ever have.

    “Marquis Draeya,” Dio said, considering what to do to make the man move to the capital on a permanent basis. “Do you live here in the capital city of Genad?”

    “No, we don’t,” Thanir said with a small chuckle. “My wife prefers a quiet life in our small Draeya County. We rent a manor in private residences on the outskirts of the capital. It has allowed us to move around unnoticed.”

    “I wish to disappoint your wife,” Dio said, moving to stand before Thanir. He met wary brown eyes. “Will you hold it against me?”

    “Basileus Dio,” Thanir said. “I disappointed her first by coming to you with this imperium. There was no choice. After what I have uncovered, I must fulfill my promise to your father.”

    “It is lucky we are in agreement,” Dio said, with a single nod. “I cannot make you an official in the government yet. The haggling parties in my imperial court are holding the reins of government. The prime minister’s people are running most of the important offices, like finance, laws and rites, and the collection of taxes. I cannot interfere with that wiry man either. The Populi party has gripped the ministry of agriculture with its hands. They are using it to win the people’s favor.”

    Dio sighed as he thought about his government. He wished daily for a stronger force. One that would come in and upset the delicate balance between the prime minister’s Liberat and the Populi.

    Shaking his head, he glanced at Thanir once more. Perhaps, Thanir Maenaer was the answer.

    “I wish to pull you into the spotlight using the offices I control. The military office and the government administration office,” Dio said. “Once I do so, I hope you are able to penetrate the swirling storm between these two political parties. Are you willing, Lord Draeya?”

    Thanir took in a deep breath and then nodded.

    “I’m willing, Basileus.”

    “Then, I’m relieved. We shall start by installing you as a military advisor in my office. This will give you a reason to enter the palace at will. It also allows you to grow acquainted with the courtiers,” Dio said. “As for the army forces my father helped you grow in your Draeya County…”

    “This matter is well organized, Basileus,” Thanir said. “I come to you with an offering. My eldest son, Raithion, joined the Naga State military when he turned sixteen. He forged relationships and grew his career in a clean manner. These past ten years have seen him rise in rank.”

    “Quite industrious,” Dio said, curious about his adopted brother.

    “At twenty-seven, Raithion has risen up the ranks with his own effort. He is a full-fledged general. He commands twenty thousand men within our Draeya County. The Naga State King has named him Lord General Draeya as he is the son of Marquis Draeya and comes from a military-grade family. He is the reason I have been able to collect the information on the counterfeit silver. I have held off his marriage in case it is of help to you.”

    “All the men under your direct command must be under Raithion’s care,” Dio said, impressed by Thanir’s ability to plan.

    “Yes, three thousand strong from our Draeya clan,” Thanir said. “Raithion will station them with me if I move to the capital. They will support you in any way you wish.”

    Dio smiled as he stared at Thanir. The heavy burden of dealing with his court had left him constantly anxious.  Even the attendants working next to him belonged to either Libert or Populi. If he could gain someone outside the circus…

    How wonderful! His father seemed to have found him a very valuable chess piece. It was better to hold him very close.

    “When you move to the capital,” Dio corrected, excited by this turn of events. “Your presence in the capital will make it easier to look into Gesi Ajai’s movements. The faster we understand his plans the better. Now, for where you are to live in the capital.”

    Dio frowned in thought, and then grinned, snapping his fingers in excitement.

    “We’re in luck. A year ago, old Princess Andong died. She was my great-aunt. Her grand manor in the capital reverted to me, and it is mine to do with as I wish. I will present it to a meritorious officer.”

    “Thank you, Basileus.” Thanir brought his right hand to his chest and nodded his thanks.

    “You will find this manor useful. It has high privacy walls, discrete exits and is closest to my palace. I will have my retainers repair the property and make it Marquis Draeya’s official residence. I would also like to introduce you to the courtiers in the capital. It will please me to support your second daughter’s wedding.  I promise to officiate her wedding in person in your new home.”

    Thanir stepped back and gave him a formal bow, his head lowering an inch more than earlier in respect and gratitude.

    “Thanir thanks you for your gift to my daughter, Noriel. I look forward to serving you, Basileus Dio,” Thanir said.

    “No thanks needed, Lord Draeya. You are helping me more,” Dio said, placing a gentle hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Now, I will walk you out and you can introduce me to Lord General Draeya. I would love to meet this adopted brother of mine. The generals I have met so far are very stern. Is your son just as fierce? What does he like to eat? Do you think he will mind exploring the city with me? I have never had a brother before.”

    Thanir chuckled as they headed out of the little hall.

    “I will let him answer all your questions, Basileus.”

    ****

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  • Blades of Ashes Ch 1-2

    Arc 1: The Case of the Forged Silver Coins

    Chapter 1-2

    The capital gained a different mood as night descended. Wives with families rushed home to tend to their households. Husbands who cared hurried along with them. The bachelors and revelers made their way to the many restaurants in the city or to livelier establishments hoping to socialize and find good company.

    In the garrisons, officers changed shifts, wrote reports, and upheld peace and civility in the capital city of Genad.

    Standing on the balcony outside the Inspector General’s office at the Counterfeit Inspectors Unit, Raithion Maenaer watched an attendant in the inn across light lamps to ward off the night.

    The inn was one of the cleanest establishments in the capital. He knew the inn’s dining hall was packed with people having a meal. Others migrating to the second floor of the inn to watch the dancers, and listen to musicians play.

    Raithion knew because he had rented a room at the back of the inn for the time being. Anyone who discovered this would think it strange as he had a perfectly good home on the opposite side of the capital.

    However, he did not intend to draw attention to his presence in the counterfeit inspector’s unit because his work was confidential.

    “General.”

    Raithion turned to his left to find a tall thin man standing a few feet away.

    The man wore silver green armor, his helmet held in his left hand. The silver-green armor was the uniform used by the exchange bureau officers. It was hard to reconcile it with his most trusted friend.

    “Haedor, you look like when we were still green in the training fields at the Naga garrisons,” Raithion said, grinning at his friend’s immediate scowl.

    “Don’t remind me,” Haedor said, adjusting the collar of his green armor. “This thing is too itchy. I’ll be happy when we leave here. We brought back the last of the counterfeit silvers from the exchange hall an hour ago. The two inspectors who went with me are in the main hall busy writing reports on the day’s collection. The master assayer has been working on the counterfeit silvers. He has news.”

    “How much did you collect today?” Raithion asked, a frown creasing his forehead at the losses the people were experiencing.

    “We are at a hundred thousand silvers this evening,” Haedor said, his tone heavy with anxiety. “There will be riots if the forced confiscation continues.”

    “That is what the person behind this plot is hoping for,” Raithion said, abandoning his view of the city on the balcony, he entered the office. “The faster we can solve the source of these forged coins the better for the people.”

    “Your father is waiting for a report on the composition of the forged silver coins,” Haedor said. “We find the source of the materials used, and we will have the culprit.”

    “True,” Raithion said. He retrieved his sword from the top of the large desk and led the way out of the inspector general’s office. “Still, this case feels more complex than simply finding the source of the forgery.”

    “Could you be over-reading their intentions?” Haedor asked as he closed and locked the door, leaving it as they found it.

    Raithion wished he were, but his gut feeling told him there was more to uncover.

    “We have no evidence to show there is more than a simple intention to ruin the economy,” Haedor said.

    They walked along the wide corridor to a staircase that would lead them down to a main hall. The main hall was a simple room with three desks manned by three inspectors. Each desk was laden with reports of the unit’s findings on the counterfeiting case.

    The true Inspector-General would then send the reports to the military general in charge of investigations in the palace’s military offices. This general would then present them to the Basileus at the imperial court.

    Raithion acknowledged the two inspectors who were hard at work with a single nod. He walked tall and with purpose. None of them doubted his position as the Inspector-General. He crossed the main hall to a corridor in the back. Haedor following him close.

    This corridor led to the most important room in the unit: the assaying room.

    Haedor knocked on the door, and when he got a grunt in response, he slid the door open allowing Raithion to pass him first.

    Raithion entered the laboratory-like space with apprehension.

    The imperial assayer had a bad temper. Most of the inspectors in the main hall had long decided the assayer’s exposure to the various metals and chemicals in this room was the cause of his bad temper.

    Raithion thought otherwise.

    He figured the wizened imperial assayer simply did not like people and preferred hunks of metal.

    “Inspector-General has arrived right on time. I, Sinsa, have found the source of the metal you have been looking for.”

    “I had no doubt,” Raithion said, smiling at the old man standing behind a massive worktable.

    Sinsa was over seven decades old, though he looked younger. He was dressed in a black leather apron that protected his comfortable cream linen clothes. A black metal mask rested on top of his head. He usually slid it down to cover his face when he was working. The metal mask had slits where the eyes were located. The slits were covered with light gauze used to protect the eyes. It took some getting used to when Sinsa wore it and looked at him.

    Raithion was glad it was pulled up for the moment.

    Sinsa’s gnarled and callused index finger pointed to a balance scale on the worktable.

    Raithion smiled and moved closer.

    “The forger is very skilled,” Sinsa said, his voice tinged with admiration. “He used iron to form the core of the counterfeit silver coins. Then, he adds bits of low-quality silver probably melted from a pure silver coin to fool the eye. He then plates the iron with a coating of more low-quality silver. In time, this silver coating will fade. At that time, it will be clear that there is iron underneath, but I doubt he’s worried about that. It is fine artisanship.”

    “He is more concerned for the outcome of this plot,” Raithion said, studying the liquid metals on the balancing scale’s holders. They looked like liquid metallic blobs resting in fine small measuring trays. He knew nothing of their properties, so he could only trust Sinsa’s explanation.

    “What am I looking at, Master Sinsa?”

    “Once I discovered how the counterfeit was made,” Sinsa continued, “I decided to identify the source of the iron ore they have used. The forger is quite clever. He chose to use ore with a high concentration of iron.  There are traces of titanium. The core of it is unique. So much so, that I can tell that it is only found in places where liquid fire erupts from the earth.”

    “What does this ore look like in its original form?” Raithion asked, glancing at Sinsa, a streak of excitement at this low-key breakthrough racing down his back.

    Sinsa reached for a small wooden box on the worktable and handed it to Raithion.

    “The only source ore with this level of iron and titanium is called burnt ore,” Sinsa said.

    Sinsa took a step back from the worktable and sat on a high stool studying Raithion.

    “If I give you the name of the people who mine this burnt ore, what happens to them?”

    Raithion opened the small wooden box and studied the burnt ore sample. He picked it out and held it to the lamp light. It looked rough and dull to his eye, harmless.

    Yet, the forger who turned this into counterfeit silver had done irreparable damage to people’s lives.

    “Master Sinsa, the imperial mint is very strict with counterfeiting,” Raithion said. “No one can tolerate damage to the mint. Counterfeit silver coins are ruining people’s lives as we speak. Our empire would fall if we let it continue.”

    “What if the miners are not responsible for the counterfeiting?” Sinsa asked.

    “I am clearly holding a sample from their product. We will have to determine their level of involvement,” Raithion said, returning the small stone of black ore to the box. He closed the lid and handed the sample to Haedor.

    “Master Sinsa, the empire is not without laws. If the miners are innocent, naturally they will come out of this unscathed.”

    Sinsa scoffed and reached up to remove his metal mask. His silver hair was tied in a neat bun at the top of his head. His gnarled hands untied the strings of the helmet before he looked at Raithion.

    “The last miners involved in such a case ended up dead,” Sinsa said. “The Inspector-General responsible was not conscientious. He added them to the list of the guilty and an entire clan disappeared. Are you going to do the same, Inspector-General Maenaer?”

    Raithion paused at the way Sinsa emphasized the title.

    The assayer was not blind after all.

    “I want to promise you that I will be responsible,” Raithion said, meeting Sinsa’s probing gaze. “However, you must understand that we all answer to someone higher in the chain. Such a decision does not lie with me. The matter of counterfeited silver coins must end. I’m already holding a sample of their ore. You cannot protect them, Master Sinsa. I can only promise to try to minimize the damage and get this mining clan a fair trial.”

    Sinsa placed the mask on the stool next to him and studied Raithion for a moment.

    “Strange but your face makes me want to believe you will try to do as you promise,” Sinsa said. “You are right. There is no turning back now. I have no choice but to trust you. The clan’s name is Sura. They mine this burnt ore from a mountain in their hometown, though I cannot tell you where. They are the only ones I have ever seen with it.”

    Raithion frowned.

    “You’re saying this ore can only be found with the Sura Clan.”

    Sinsa nodded.

    “Yes. There is no doubt. However, you cannot blame everyone in the clan for the counterfeiting. There is probably someone in the clan who is diverting the burnt ore during transit.”

    “Probably,” Raithion nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Master Sinsa. I’ll make use of this information. Do not share it with anyone else.”

    “Not even the team of inspectors out there?” Sinsa asked, giving Raithion a critical glance.

    “Especially them,” Raithion said, the glint in his eye when he met Sinsa’s gaze had the older man sucking in air.

    “You’re more than you seem,” Sinsa accused.

    “If you say so,” Raithion said, and then turned away from Sinsa, ready to leave.

    “Wait,” Sinsa said. “Who are you? I truly doubt you’re the new Inspector-General taking over this unit.”

    “I am who I need to be for the moment. Today, I need to be the new Inspector-General,” Raithion said. “So, I am.”

    Sinsa kept quiet for a moment and then sighed in resignation.

    “Whoever you are, please do your best to protect the Sura Clan,” Sinsa said. “They are good people.”

    “We’ll have to see,” Raithion said, giving Sinsa one last nod.

    Raithion left the assaying room followed by Haedor. He did not stop until they were outside the building. Raithion took in a deep breath glad that he would not have to be here any longer. He had needed a sample of the original ore used to continue his quiet investigation. Now that he had it, it was time to return to his place.

    One of the attendants at the stables brought their horses around.

    “Where to?” Haedor asked when they mounted their horses and headed to the compound’s exit.

    “We go to see my father,” Raithion said, as he mounted his horse. “We need to report the source of the burnt ore and get permission to start an investigation into the Sura Clan. Send someone to clear out my things at the inn across the unit.”

    “I will,” Haedor said.

    Raithion gave the inspector’s office one last glance, his thoughts lingered on Sinsa’s request. The Sura Clan was indeed in trouble if they had chosen to counterfeit silver coins. He was not sure what he could do for them.

    Raithion urged his horse forward in the direction of the private manors on the outskirts of the city with a soft sigh.

    ******

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