Elle, one of the caretakers at the village orphanage, made her way home with Himeko and two younger boys after their morning trip to the market. The path back wound through narrow streets lined with wooden buildings, their boards splintered and gray. She struggled under the weight of wicker baskets laden with fresh produce and wrapped parcels, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool air.????????????????

  “Miss Elle, I can take some of those,” Himeko offered, tracking the precarious sway of the largest basket. “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m… just fine,” Elle shifted the basket higher against her hip. “We aren’t… too far… from home now.”

  Behind them, Tom and Teo leaped from stone to stone, cheeks flushed from the morning's adventures. The twin boys flanked Himeko like excitable puppies, their small bags of treats bouncing against their backs as they jostled for her attention.

  "Big sis Himeko!" Teo called out, bumping his shoulder against her arm.

  "Come on, big sis!" Tom joined in, nudging her from the other side with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Won't you play with us later?"

  The constant bumping set Himeko swaying between them. 'Big sis! Big sis! Come on, Big sis!' Their cries spilled from them in a jumble, tangled with laughter.

  “Fine, yes,” Himeko finally conceded.

  The twins erupted in celebration, springing up and down. “Big sis Himeko is the best!” they chanted in unison.

  "But not for too long today," Himeko added quickly, watching Elle nearly stumble under her burden. "I still need to help Miss Elle and Miss Hanni with meal prep later."

  Teo’s features crumpled, cheeks sagging. "What? Why?"

  “How come it's always you?” Tom stomped his foot. “Why can't any of the other older kids help instead? You do everything!”

  “Why does that matter?” Himeko said. “I do it because I want to. It's not like I'm being forced.”

  Ahead of them, where the street curved toward the orphanage, seven boys had gathered around an old stone bench — three sprawled across it, the others standing behind them, feet restless on the cobblestones.

  With a snarl, Kevin exploded off the bench, slamming his palm against the stone. Red crept up his neck to stain his cheeks. “Where is Daxton?! Why isn't he here yet?!”

  “Have you forgotten he said he'd be tied up today?” Rink rubbed his temple. “Something about the festival and having to entertain other village chiefs.”

  “'I don't care about that! He should be here! How long is he going to make us wait for our revenge?”

  “Patience, dullard,” Rink replied, yet his fingers tapped his knife’s hilt, nails clicking despite his calm words. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

  “I have been patient! Why aren’t you as pissed off as me, Rink? How about you, Laati?” He wheeled on Laati. “Osaze and Zen had us on the floor, and weeks have gone without retribution—just empty promises from Daxton!”

  Laati's eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you saying? If it had interested him, we'd have dealt with those two fuckers already. They're nobodies—why would I dwell on it? What I take offense to is you addressing the young chief so casually.”

  “Yes, yes, Young Chief, Young Chief Daxton,” Kevin parroted, voice high in feigned reverence. “Don't you hear how unnecessarily long that is? Daxton! Daxton! See? Now that rolls off the tongue!”

  “I get that you're frustrated,” Laati said slowly, “but if you don't even dare to speak like this to his face, all this bullshit posturing is just cowardly nonsense.”

  Kevin’s teeth ground audibly. “Argh! Why am I the only one who feels wronged?!” He flung his arms wide — one hand caught Tom as the boy passed.

  “Argh!” Tom yelped, lurching into Himeko’s side, his feet tangling as the blow knocked the air from his lungs.

  "Kevin whirled towards Tom. “Did you just bump into me?”

  "What?" Tom’s brows knitted together, his words catching as he blinked up at the towering figure.

  "Are you questioning me?!" Kevin's voice rose to a roar.

  Elle pushed forward despite her aching limbs. "Tom, just apologize to him and let's continue on our way."

  “But I didn’t do anything!” Tom straightened. “He’s the one who hit me!”

  "Boy, are you mad?!" Kevin’s lips twisted into a snarl. "Did you just accuse me of something?!"

  Laati laughed. “What a stupid kid. He should have just listened to the lady.”

  "Ha, it's all right," Rink grinned, eyes sparkling with dark delight as he leaned in eagerly. "Now Kevin gets to blow off some steam. It's a win for us."

  “Boy, you’re one of those orphan kids, right?” Kevin sneered. “You must be like this because you had no parents to teach you manners.” His hand lifted high, elbow snapping straight as he aimed a flat-palmed swing at the boy’s cheek.

  Himeko’s limbs uncoiled like a dancer’s as she drew Tom against her side. She stepped away from Kevin’s descending palm, the strike whistling through empty air.

  Elle rushed between them, stumbling under the weight of her baskets. Food spilled across the cobblestones as she caught herself and planted her feet before the children. “He is so sorry, and I apologize on his behalf as well. Would it be okay to leave it at that today, please?”

  Rink’s chuckle cut short. “Too late, lady.”

  “Get out of my face!” Kevin’s backhand slammed into Elle’s cheek, dropping her to the ground. The remaining food burst across the street in a spray of vegetables and wrapped goods.

  "What are you doing?!" Tom’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, why are you the one getting angry?” Teo muttered, shoulders curling as he edged back a half-step. "It's you that started this!"

  Laati straightened from his lounging position, his full height casting a shadow over the small boys. “Kid! Kevin’s right, isn’t he? You guys are on your way back to the orphanage, which means you’re orphans, aren’t you?”

  “We are.” Teo’s eyes dropped to the floor before the last word was out.

  “Then what makes someone like you—abandoned, left behind—think you even have the right to walk the same road as us?” Laati’s gaze dragged over them. “To even stand in our vicinity? If he hit you it’s your fault for even existing in this space.”

  The twins’ brows furrowed as their gazes flicked between Himeko and the gang. Their cheeks quivered. Around them, produce lay scattered across the gray stones.

  Himeko’s eyes swept the scene: Elle struggling to rise, blood trickling from her split lip; the twins trembling with impotent fury; seven thugs loomed over them all, arms crossed and heads tilted

  Do you guys even know what it means to have no parents? The thought seared her mind.

  To have lost your family? Hell, these are the same guys that would bully even their own parents if it served them. Scum.

  “Teo, Tom.” Her voice came low and even.

  Both boys turned to her.

  “Could you help Miss Elle out? Thank you.”

  "Yes, Big Sis." The twins hurried to Elle, bracing her from both sides as she pushed herself upright.

  “Don’t take any of their words to heart, boys.” Himeko’s eyes settled on the gang and stayed there.

  Kevin's face twisted with rage. "Girl, who the hell do you think you're looking at like that?!" He swung his fist toward her.

  Himeko tilted her head. The punch tore past her ear, ruffling loose strands of brown hair. She flowed into a strike, her fist sinking into his gut. The blow lifted him off his feet and hurled him into the middle of his crew like a sack of grain.

  “It's the talk of scum who aren't even worthy of cleaning our poo,” she said.

  Rink and Laati shoved Kevin aside, their faces darkening as their eyes went from his groaning body to Himeko and back.????????????????

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you dumb?" Rink's voice pitched higher.

  The gang began spreading out around her in a loose semicircle.

  “Did I hear you right?” Laati closed the distance between them, one hand settling on the metal club at his waist. “I dare you to say something else.”

  In the distance, Zen walked toward the orphanage. I hope Himeko isn't too busy today. Maybe I should have gone to get Osaze first so I'd have someone to hang with either way, but that guy's been on a training craze for two weeks now—either that or it's boring farm work.

  "Hmm... isn't that Himeko?" Daxton's gang surrounded her. His teeth clenched. I better go help out.

  "What are you guys waiting for? Get her!" Kevin struggled to his feet, voice hoarse.

  "Shit." Zen broke into a sprint, his hand moving instinctively to his practice sword.

  "Kevin's right," Rink said, drawing his knife. "She doesn't need to say anymore. The line's already been crossed." He thrust the blade toward Himeko's throat.

  Himeko took a breath and settled into her stance. I bet after I'm done with them, they won't even remember that they were the ones who started this.

  She knocked Rink’s knife aside, her palm snapping against his wrist as the blade slid harmlessly past her shoulder. In a blur, she twisted and ripped a wooden baton from one of the other boys' belts—he was still reaching for it when she struck.

  The baton connected with Rink's face in a wet crunch. Blood spurted from his shattered nose. He was unconscious as he crumpled to the cobblestones, and Himeko was already spinning, her leg whipping around in an arc. Her foot caught another attacker in the throat. The boy flew backward, landing in a heap, clutching his crushed windpipe.

  Elle and the twins watched in stunned silence.

  "Grab her!" Laati shouted.

  But none of that matters right now, Himeko's thoughts continued. All that matters is that I give them a bloody lesson.

  Two boys rushed her simultaneously, thinking to overwhelm her with numbers. Himeko tossed the baton straight up, launching herself into the air alongside it. At the peak of her jump, she seized the back of both attackers' heads and smashed their faces together. The crack of impact echoed off the surrounding buildings as she caught the falling baton and drove it into a third boy's face before her feet even touched the ground.

  "I shall not let you disgrace the young chief like this!" Laati swung his metal club in a wide arc.

  As Himeko landed, she dropped into a sweeping kick that cleared Laati's feet from under him. As he fell, she drove the back of her fist into the side of his face. He hit the cobblestones, his club clattering away across the scattered vegetables.

  Kevin stumbled backward, face pale. "What the fuck is this?"

  Around him, six of his friends lay scattered across the street. The whole thing had lasted less than thirty seconds.

  "Oh no, no, no, you aren't running away after all this." Zen’s voice cut through Kevin’s panicked retreat as he arrived at a sprint. His practice sword connected with the back of Kevin’s skull. The bully crumpled to the ground.

  Himeko straightened from her fighting stance. "I wasn't done. Why did you butt in?"

  "Whoa, now now, I was just trying to help," Zen replied, though his eyes kept flicking between Himeko and the carnage.

  Himeko flung the bloodied baton away and dusted dirt from her clothes, her breathing already steady. "Ha, you're right. Sorry."

  “You really put on a show here, Himeko.” Zen glanced around at the gathering crowd. “Looks like I’m not the only one who couldn’t believe their eyes.”

  As Himeko turned to respond, her gaze swept the street—and froze. Villagers had emerged from doorways and alleys, their bewildered stares locked onto her. Some still held the morning’s bread and tools, forgotten in their hands as they took in the scene. Hushed voices began to spread through the crowd.

  One thought crossed her mind: What have I done?

  Himeko’s hands began to tremble—those same hands that moments ago had moved without hesitation. She swiftly hid them behind her back, but Zen had already noticed.

  Zen stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong? Worried about Daxton retaliating?” He watched her carefully. “Don’t worry about that. Osaze and I have got your back.”

  It has nothing to do with Daxton. Himeko’s chest tightened. I shouldn’t have—how am I supposed to explain this to Hanni? Don’t tell me we’d have to move again because of this?

  Before she could spiral further, the twins ran to embrace her, their earlier terror forgotten. “We said it!” they chanted. “Big sis Himeko is the best!”

  Himeko closed her eyes for a heartbeat. Get it together, Himeko. One thing at a time. She ruffled the twins’ hair, quicker than she meant to. Then she moved to help Elle, who had begun gathering the spilled goods.

  Elle knelt among the produce, gathering bruised vegetables, her fingers fumbling.

  “I’m so glad everyone’s okay.” She looked up at Himeko, her split lip trembling into a smile. “Thank you, Himeko. You were so incredible.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Himeko knelt beside her. “Mm.

  “You’re right, Miss Elle! She was incredible!” Tom bounced on his heels.

  “Where did you learn moves like that, Big Sis?!” Teo’s eyes were wide with wonder as he mimicked one of her strikes.

  Zen crouched down to join them in collecting the scattered goods. “Yeah, Himeko. Where did you learn to fight like that? I mean, Osaze and I assumed you were better than you let us see, but that…” He looked at the unconscious bodies. “That was something else entirely.”

  A shaky laugh escaped her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "...Fine, if you say so." Zen continued collecting the produce, his eyes lingering on her for a moment.

  Elle glanced nervously at the dispersing onlookers, then back at the unconscious boys. “We should hurry,” she said quietly. “Before they wake up.”

  The storehouse behind the Adeoti farmhouse reeked of sweat, its wooden walls scarred by countless impacts. Sacks of grain had been moved aside to create open space, and the afternoon sun slanted through gaps in the roof.

  Osaze circled his mother. Sweat darkened his shirt, but his breathing remained controlled—a far cry from the wild rushes that had characterized his early attempts.

  He feinted left with a quick jab, watching Iyabo's automatic block, then rotated his body and kicked high at her ribs. The strike connected with a solid thwack.

  "Oww," Iyabo said, stepping back and pressing her hand to her side. "Much, much better. Your form and strategy are nothing like before. You’ve improved more in these weeks than you had during all your training before." She paused to catch her breath. "You must really be looking forward to the Eterna test if it has you this motivated."

  Osaze grinned. Yes, plus now I have a more concrete image of my goals... thanks to Uncle Sagan.

  “Well, that's enough fight training for today,” Iyabo announced, but her smile turned mischievous. “Now it's time for my favorite part.”

  “Argh, Mum, isn't that meant to be every two days? My body still aches from yesterday.”

  "Hehe, where did all that motivation go?" Iyabo laughed. "Chop chop, get to it."

  "I'm going, I'm going." Osaze dashed out of the storehouse, feet pounding against the packed earth as he began his circuit around the farm's perimeter.

  Iyabo followed moments later on horseback, the mare's hooves creating a steady drumbeat as she pursued her son like a hunting hound. "Come on, come on, you can do better! Go faster!" Her voice carried across the fields. "The Eterna test is just about genetics—the real tests come after that! You need to be ready, or don't you want to enter the great academies?"

  Farm workers paused in their labor to watch.

  "You need to be fast, to have more stamina!" Iyabo's shouts never ceased, driving Osaze forward even when his legs felt like lead and his lungs burned with each breath.

  Later, with the sun climbing toward its peak, Osaze stood in the training area, a heavy bag of rice balanced on his shoulders as he performed precise squats. His legs trembled, but he maintained form under his mother's watchful eye.

  "You need to be fitter!" she called out.

  Hours passed. Osaze lay on his back beneath the same bag of rice, pressing it upward in steady repetitions. His arms shook with each lift.

  "Stronger! Better!" Iyabo's demands echoed through the storehouse.

  By mid-afternoon, Osaze lay sprawled in the dirt outside the storehouse, gasping for air. Every muscle felt as if it had been stretched on a rack, and his clothes were soaked through with sweat and grime.

  I can't do this anymore, he thought, staring up at the cloudless sky. I can't. I just can't.

  His father's approach was announced by the thud of his boots. Osunde's shadow fell across his son's prone form.

  "I hope you're having a nice rest, but you know the deal," He said. "If I'm going to permit this treacherous training, you have to tend to the farm for an equal amount of time each day. So get off your ass and come join me for some real work."

  What is this? No more, no more.

  He smacked his cheeks. Shook his head hard.

  “No no no — you can take it. Just see it as part of your continuous training. Farm work can do wonders for the body.”

  "Aaaargh!" The shout exploded from his lungs as he shot to his feet. "I'm coming!"

  Iyabo walked alongside Osunde as they headed toward the fields. "Won't you let him rest a bit more? I'm sure that won't hurt."

  "Aren't you the one training him for the military?" Osunde asked. "Shouldn't discipline be a big part of that?"

  "Hmph. You won't break him, you know."

  "Says the person who was chasing him on horseback."

  Iyabo glanced back at her exhausted son, then gave Osunde a withering side-eye.

  Footsteps approached. Boe emerged from between the rows of crops, his cheerful expression brightening as he spotted the family.

  "Boe? What's he doing here?" Osunde asked.

  "I hope you're having a lovely day, Osunde! Iyabo! Little Adeoti!"

  "Well, let's find out," Iyabo replied. "How are you doing today, Boe?"

  "I'm glad, glad to be alive! Hahaha!"

  "Anything we can do for you, Boe?" Osunde inquired.

  "No, it's what I can do for you! Have you forgotten the festival is coming around? I came to see if there are any special ingredients our cooks are missing for our yearly stand. Hehehe!"

  “That’s so true!” Iyabo said. “I’ve been so engrossed in Osaze’s training, I completely forgot.”

  "Reliable as clockwork, Boe," Osunde said. "We’ll put a list of specialty items together for you."

  “Wow, it’s already time for this year’s Semlong Festival!” Iyabo said. “How exciting!”

  Behind them, Osaze swayed on his feet, barely processing the conversation. Festival. That perked him up slightly. He'd care about it properly when he could feel his legs again.

  Elsewhere in the village, a different spectacle was drawing eyes. The Miager House Manor stood at the heart of Okorodu Village, its stone facade gleaming in the afternoon sun. Carved columns flanked the main entrance, decorative flourishes crowding every surface. Today it served as a stage for political theater.

  Four carriages approached along the village's main thoroughfare, their wheels clattering rhythmically. Curious crowds gathered along the route to witness the aristocrats' arrival.

  At the manor's entrance, the Miager family had arranged themselves with ceremonial precision. Chief Janson held the center position, adjusting the formal chains of office that had taken him many years of careful maneuvering to earn. His spine was straight, chin elevated as the carriages approached. Daxton and Vince flanked him in their finest clothes, jaws set beneath their welcoming smiles.

  The first carriage drew to a halt, its liveried driver dismounting to open the door with a flourish. "I present Missus Barbara Paintly, Head of the Lower Class Paintly House! Chief of Lamber Village!"

  Barbara stepped out, her glamorous dress catching the sunlight as she surveyed the manor with appraising eyes.

  "I present Mister Mikel Luckard, Head of the Lower Class Luckard House! Chief of Fathbelle Village!" The second driver's announcement preceded the emergence of a rotund man whose belly bounced with each step.

  "I present Missus Glory Small, Head of the Lower Class Small House! Chief of Briarford Village!" Glory Small stepped delicately from the third carriage, her diminutive frame adorned in a flowery dress.

  "I present Goodman Venile Martor, Head of the Middle Class Martor House! Mayor of Reldo Town!" Venile emerged with measured dignity, the highborn around him straightening immediately.

  "I and the Miager House welcome you all to Okorodu Village! My friends!" Janson stepped forward with arms spread wide, embracing each arrival in turn.

  "Barbara! Glory! It's been so long—how have you been?"

  Barbara quipped, "I was doing fine. My skin started glowing so much after not being in your scheming vicinity for so long.

  "Haha, Barbara jokes," Glory interjected. "Your invitation was a welcome surprise."

  "Barbara, always so funny," Janson replied smoothly, turning to the rotund man. "And my precious friend Mikel, I hope you've been eating well."

  "You know the answer to that, you senile man! Hahaha! I know you've prepared a feast for us today!"

  "Of course, of course." Janson's attention shifted to the most important guest. "Goodman Venile, you grace me with this visit, though I confess I was not expecting you today."

  "Oh, I actually came today to meet Sir Stirling, but I thought I ought to stop by and greet you first."

  Janson's eyes flickered. "How courteous of you."

  "I must say it surprised me to see I'm not the only one visiting. What event do you have going on? And did my invitation go missing?"

  "Oh, nothing like that. I just had an idea I wanted to discuss with the local villages—nothing you'd be interested in. But now that you're here, feel free to join us. I'll send for Sagan."

  So he is close enough to Sir Stirling to call him by his first name? Venile's eyebrows rose.

  "No, no, I will go and meet him myself," Venile replied.

  "You will be disappointed, though. I actually wanted my man to check if he has returned. You see, Sagan left once he got back from Reldo and hasn't been back since."

  "Ah, I see."

  "But who knows? You might get lucky and he'll return today." Janson's smile never wavered.

  Trust me, you're not the only one that wants him back here. He is ruining my plans. How am I meant to parade an absent man in front of these fuckers so they forgetf their own self-interest?

  As the adults proceeded into the manor's interior, Daxton and Vince approached the younger generation—Harvo Paintly and Jonny Luckard, who had accompanied their parents.

  "I don't believe we have to spend the whole day entertaining these guys. What are we, a couple of showmen?" Vince muttered.

  "Shut up. Whether it's to grovel on the floor or eat shit, we do what we must for the betterment of the house," Daxton's face smoothed. "It's been a while, Harvo! Jonny! Come on in, let me show you around."

  "Look at how hospitable he is being," Harvo observed.

  "Haha, they must have told him to be on his best behavior," Jonny added.

  Veins pulsed in Daxton's temples, but his smile never wavered. "Surely you jest—like I would ever not welcome you warmly."

  "Mm-hmm, whatever. Let's go," Harvo replied.

  In a small lobby within the manor, the younger highborn settled in. Harvo claimed the largest couch, stretching out like he owned it.

  "So what do you do for fun around here? Tease the maids? Get the servants to go on all fours so you can ride them around?"

  Vince's jaw tightened, his hands clenching.

  "Your imagination fascinates me, Harvo," Daxton replied.

  "Really? But do tell me if I'm right—it is, after all, hard to think of things that interest a degenerate." Harvo grinned.

  "Okay, okay, calm down. Let's not get disrespectful," Jonny interjected, glancing between them.

  “It’s all right. We are each entitled to our opinions, as vulgar as some may be,” Daxton replied, the smile still in place.

  Outside the manor, seven battered figures limped along the streets, faces marked by recent violence, clothes stained with blood and dirt. Kevin, Rink, Laati, and the four others who made up Daxton's crew had finally dragged themselves across the village, seeking refuge and revenge.

  Heavy footsteps echoed on marble floors. Kevin grabbed one of the manor's servants by the collar, eyes wild.

  "Go get Vince or the Young Chief. Tell them it's of the utmost importance," he demanded, his voice cracking.

  The servant nodded quickly and hurried off into the manor's interior.

  "Wait, will you not let us in?" Laati called after the retreating figure.

  The servant rushed back, gesturing for them to enter the entrance corridor before hurrying to find Vince and Daxton. The defeated gang members slumped against the marble walls, blood leaving dark stains on the polished floors.

  Kevin’s fist clenched and unclenched, his stare fixed on nothing. “Today, we destroy everyone in that orphanage.”

  "Oh, of course," Rink agreed. Dried blood had formed a mask around his broken nose.

  The servant approached the lobby where Daxton entertained his guests. Intimidated by the young master's stare, he approached Vince instead and whispered in his ear: "Apologies, but your friends are demanding your presence outside."

  Hmm? What do those punks want now? He turned to Daxton. "I need to check on something. I'll be right back."

  Daxton nodded absently.

  "Don't hurry back—no one will miss you," Harvo called out.

  Vince's jaw tightened. "Tch." He left the lobby, the door clicking shut behind him.

  In the entrance corridor, Vince stopped. His expression darkened. "What are you doing here? Have you lost your minds? We told you yesterday how important today is. Nothing should disturb us!"

  "Fuck that—can’t you see us?!" Kevin's voice rose. "Look at how beaten up we are, and it was all done by some orphan girl! We need to raze that whole place as compensation!"

  Vince stepped back. "Wait, did you just say that one person did this to you all? And it was an orphan girl?" His voice dropped. "You disgraceful idiots. How dare you show your faces here? Do you know what Daxton would do to you if he heard this?"

  "Tch, I told you guys this was stupid," Laati muttered, massive frame slumped against the wall.

  "Yo, Vince, just go get Daxton and let him decide what to do," Rink insisted, though his words came out slurred through his damaged face.

  "Fine, let's hear what he says." Vince turned to leave, but found his path blocked by a tall, imposing figure.

  Carson Miager, Janson's younger brother, stood rigidly behind him. His clothes were perfectly pressed, hands resting at his sides.

  "You will do no such thing," Carson said with quiet finality. "Go back and entertain our guests with Daxton, and he must not know of their visit yet."

  "Ye-yes, father," Vince replied immediately.

  Carson's gaze swept over the beaten gang. "And for you guys—Guards! Get these useless shits out of here."

  Four guards stepped forward and surrounded the defeated thugs. The crew looked baffled.

  "Wait, wait! What gives you the right to do this?!" Kevin protested

  One guard's palm connected with his cheek—a sharp crack echoing through the corridor. “How dare you raise your voice at Master Carson!”

  The guards seized the beaten gang and hauled them toward the entrance. They were thrown onto the cobblestones outside the manor, bodies hitting the stones with wet thuds.

  "And if you set foot in here again today, we've been authorized to kill you, so you better get lost," one guard warned, hand resting on his sword hilt.

  The defeated crew limped away from the manor, shadows long in the afternoon sun.

  "This is so fucked!" Kevin's voice cracked.

  "It's our fault for coming today," Rink replied, spitting blood onto the cobblestones. "Let's try again tomorrow after all the guests leave. I won't rest until I have that girl begging for my mercy."

  Back at the manor, the guards barked with laughter. "Oh, how I've always wanted to do that!"

  "I know, right? That'll teach those cocky fuckers."

  Dark wood paneling, polished to a mirror sheen, lined the Miager Manor’s main hall beneath the lamplight, expensive tapestries covering the walls with scenes of glory and virtue. At the head of a massive oak table sat Chief Janson, positioned directly beneath a golden-framed portrait of His Majesty King Adrian III Solaris.

  The five heads of houses had arranged themselves around the table—Goodman Venile Martor at the opposite end, his higher rank acknowledged through positioning, while the lower-class house heads filled the spaces between. Crystal wine goblets caught the lamplight, and the scent of roasted meat and expensive spices drifted from the kitchens.

  Mikel set down his wine goblet with deliberate precision, the crystal ringing softly against the polished wood. "So, Janson, while all this talk is fine, I'm sure the food is about to arrive, and I don't like eating with a wandering mind. So let's hear it—why have you gathered us here today?"

  Janson's smile widened. "Fine, fine, as you wish."He leaned forward slightly. "You all know the Semlong Festival is coming up in 2 weeks, and we have always celebrated the auspicious occasion as individual villages. But it was never a rule that we must confines ourselves to our own walls."

  He paused.

  "Village Chiefs," Janson continued, grin taking on predatory qualities, "I ask you—won't you come celebrate the Founding of Astralyn together with me in Okorodu Village? Let us have a joint festival!"

  The reaction was immediate. Barbara’s fingers tightened around her wine goblet, knuckles showing white against the crystal. Glory’s carefully maintained composure wavered. Venile froze mid-reach for his wine, then his eyes narrowed.

  But it was Mikel whose reaction proved most telling. His grin spread slowly across his weathered features. Greedy bastard, he thought. I like it. Just my kind of person.

  The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sputter of lamp flames and the distant sounds of servants preparing the feast.

  Janson sat back in his chair, expression confident as he waited for responses that would either elevate his standing or confirm he'd overplayed his hand.