Mergo Hensya

Take a guess

"You can't do this!" one of the men protested. "You'll answer for your actions."

"I have no such plans," I retorted, discarding the gloves completely. I had no intention of returning with them; it had become something of a tradition. "You seem to misunderstand whom you're dealing with." Instead of a formal introduction, I summoned a golden lion's head, its roar echoing through the room, commanding silence. "The Hale family holds sway over all, your so-called independent city is a farce... you're flouting the very rules established by the Heirs."

"We don't abide by your family's decrees," the governor countered, though his conviction wavered.

"We don't offer a choice in the matter," I replied, my gaze shifting to my blood-soaked uniform. I couldn't very well lecture them looking like a vagrant. With a flicker of illusion, I concealed the stains and met the governor's eyes once more. "Nevertheless, I require a contract to substantiate your claims," I motioned for them to lead me to an office.

They guided me through a series of corridors, the building's stark white simplicity a beautiful contrast to the complexity of our situation. Behind the desk in the spacious office hung a royal flag adorned with a wolf's head, as one might expect in Athran. Yet this was not Athran, and until this moment, I had been under the impression that the country hadn't expanded its provinces beyond our agreements.

Kuzsi, a city nestled among rolling hills, boasts a population in the tens of thousands. It served as the administrative heart for the surrounding hamlets and townships. The region was a tapestry of fertile lands, rich in mineral veins that crisscross its subterranean layers. Yet, the true heartbeat of Kuzsi was commerce; situated at a strategic nexus of trade routes, the city thrives on the lucrative flow of goods. When the sovereign's gaze wandered, the profits swelled even further, as if the city itself conspired to seize opportunity.

The governor, a man caught in a web of his own making, frantically sifts through parchments, seeking a clause that might spare him from the executioner's blade. Meanwhile, his confidant, a master of manipulation, deftly planted seeds of thought in the governor's mind, speaking in the fluid tongue of Athran. Unbeknownst to him, I was privy to their language—a fact they mistakenly believe I was ignorant of. Damien, my loyal interpreter, relayed their scheming in Imperial, right under their oblivious noses. For now, I bid my time, absorbing their deceit while my eyes fixated on the grand flag that billows above us—a symbol I yearned to rip from its mast.

Alceste, the Athranian, was adamant that the contracts remain hidden from my view, urging instead to summon one dubbed 'the Occupant'—a figure I suspected Damien had been tirelessly hunting. Gaby, the other conspirator, was equally engrossed in his search through the archives, his hands dancing over countless documents with fervent desperation.

After what seems an eternity, Gaby's quest culminated in triumph as he retrieved a tome bound in black, adorned with the emblem of a wolf. With a flourish of self-satisfaction, he presented the document to me.

I demanded a walkthrough of the contract, and Gaby, ever the adept translator, obliged. The text proclaimed Athran's dominion over these lands, a detail conveniently omitted by the Steeles. Gaby insisted that Jonathan's pact has lapsed, and the wolf extends an offer of sovereignty and unfettered trade. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this document would be better served as ammunition against Edgar. His history of encroachment was well-documented, though I doubt even he would be so brazen. The page's end revealed an elegant signature—his son's. For his own sake, I pray this was all a grave misunderstanding.

"What does independence and free trade signify to you?" I inquired, my patience wearing thin amidst the chaos. "Does your definition encompass illicit dealings? For what is outlawed in Athran surely holds no sway here, according to your precious contract."