Jack stood proudly behind Regina as he sat at the head of the dinner table: a long, rectangular slab of stone with luxurious foods laid out intermittently between the dozen or so guests which had attended.

  Regina had insisted that Jack attend, standing on ceremony as his faux bodyguard – a lesson in futility if ever he had seen one. Jack made no attempt to hide his frustration at his current task. Guarding a man who was his superior in every level and skill imaginable was stupid, but who was he to deny Diako, the god who had recruited him into his organisation of assassins.

  In reality, most of Jack’s frustration could be laid at the feet of Kaleb Akabane. He was supposed to arrive in Castalor weeks ago, yet by all reports he’d been galivanting through every town and village within 100 leagues of the capital instead.

  Regina’s informants had told him no end of stories about the adventurer. Supposedly he had stopped in Forge Town to get some new armour and weapons, then he’d fought The Winter Shogun in Boggy Marsh, and most recently he’d saved the fortress of High Rock from a lycanid invasion and aided one Rexus Aurelius – now dubbed Rex of the Crimson Fist, though most in the capital were calling him Red Fist – in usurping the leadership of the famed Broken Shield mercenary company.

  These were all interesting and somewhat impressive tales, but it seemed to Jack that the adventurer was doing anything and everything in his power to delay his arrival in Castalor, the one place Jack needed him to be.

  “Welcome gentlemen and women,” Regina said, opening his arms towards the upper crust of Castalor as they graced his table. “What an honour it is to have you all dining with me this evening.”

  “Cut the shit Regina,” Marquess Tabitha spat, cutting his speech short. “We all know why we’re here and it’s got nothing to do with merrymaking. You owe me an explanation.”

  “My dear Marquess,” Regina replied, his voice as smooth as warm butter. “As I explained to you before, I simply can’t allow the hunt to take place this year. We have too many other concerns and-”

  “And what?” She interjected, “you want to line your pockets some other way, is that it? Need I remind you that you govern this city only by the good graces of the people sitting here. If we want a hunt we’ll bloody well hold one regardless of your preferences.”

  “And need I remind you,” Regina began, allowing a trickle of his formidable aura to spill out across the table to the shock and disturbance of many of his guests. “That if I wanted to govern this city without a council, I could do so with ease. Not a single one of you could best me in a duel, nor do you have anyone in your employ who could go half a round with me on my worst day. So might I suggest that you shut your whore mouth and let us return to the pleasantries?”

  And that would be why they call him Emperor, Jack thought. Though it was technically an unofficial title, even the rulers of other nations referred to him with it.

  Marquess Tabitha opened her mouth a little as if to reply and Regina flashed her a dangerous look. She closed it before sound could pass her lips but she didn’t look fully persuaded.

  ***

  “You know she’s going to do it anyway,” Jack said with a sigh, his head resting wearily in his fist as he sat on the dining table.

  The guests had left not long ago and Regina seemed in high spirits. After the tumultuous start to his business diner the rest of the evening had gone in his favour. He’d succeeded in passing multiple bills which would allow him to ascend even sooner than he’d expected.

  Jack didn’t really understand it, but supposedly ascension to godhood required much more than just reaching the necessary levelling requirements. Apparently, one also needed to amass a certain number of followers and gain influences over a specific thing. As to what those things might be, Jack had no idea. But considering how most of the pantheon specialised in something dark, nefarious, or otherwise, he could make an educated guess that they had to embody something.

  Diako was the god of shadows, for example. How one managed to embody something like that, Jack had no idea, but it kind of made sense to him.

  “I’m well aware of her intentions,” Regina replied with a smile, taking a sip of a wine he’d had imported from the far east. “But what should I care? If she wants to hold her hunt she’ll have to fund it herself, and she’ll have to keep it hidden since she’ll technically be holding it against the council’s approval. It might even be fortuitous for her to get caught.” He flashed Jack a scheming smile and his eyes flashed.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to do it,” Jack said with a wave of his hand. “If you want her killed I’m your guy, but I’m no policeman.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of you,” he replied. “Remind me, when is our friend due to arrive?”

  “Weeks ago,” Jack sighed. “He was last sighted at High Rock though so potentially he’ll arrive any day now.”

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

  “Assuming he doesn’t go shacking up with the locals,” Regina said distastefully. “Though I’ve heard that the duke’s daughter is quite the visual marvel. Then again I doubt she’d care for some low-ranking adventurer. I still can’t fathom why Diako wants him so badly.”

  “Actually sir,” Jack replied, “the duke is dead. His daughter now rules in his place, saved from a lycanid pack by the very adventurer you speak of.”

  “Really?” Regina replied, raising an eyebrow. “Now that is interesting. Perhaps he really is shacking up with her then. I’m almost jealous. It better not delay him too long though. The High Priest Tournament approaches fast and I need him here if Diako is to sponsor me for entry.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about anything untoward happening between Kaleb and the Duchess,” Jack said confidently. “He’s a married man.”

  “And, what does that matter? Married men need concubines don’t they? Though I doubt the Duchess would go for that.”

  “Believe me, it matters to him.”

  ***

  “I hate sea travel,” Lucas Regina moaned to himself as he leaned over the bow of his ship.

  “Well then perhaps your Royal Highness should have invested more gold into air travel, instead of spending it all on an army we don’t need,” Gonzo replied, making no effort to mask his irritation.

  “Trust me, the day when we will need that army fast approaches. The nobles are already trying to oust me as king and with their sway on the continent Havar needs all the protection we can get. We need to look strong. Besides, more nefarious ongoings are about to take place in the continent’s capital and we need to be prepared.”

  “Fearful words for a man who didn’t even want the crown, no western country has held a standing army in generations. As the former director of the local Adventure Society I’d have though you of all people would understand why.”

  “I’ve heard that the best kings are those who don’t want the power,” Taylor said, between swigs of the wine cask she’d refused to leave behind at the port.

  “And why, pray tell,” Gonzo began, “would anyone give a rat’s arse about what some common seamstress thinks about politics?”

  “Why, pray tell,” Taylor began, mimicking him, “would anyone give a rat’s arse what some up start pencil pusher thinks about politics? You’re no better than I am Gonzo, we both owe our positions to Lucas. At least I support him.”

  “Be quiet, both of you,” Lucas snapped, looking over his shoulder.

  It was true that he had raised both of their stations upon his appointment to king. Gonzo had been an administrator in Adventure Society and, though he wasn’t overly fond of the man, he was the best bureaucrat Lucas knew. He also liked having someone around to argue with, it made him more certain of his plans.

  Taylor, on the other hand, had been appointed the position of royal tailor. Though it sounded mundane, historically that position had also been synonymous with “spymaster”, a position which, so far, she had excelled at. If he was being honest with himself, Lucas only promoted her because she was Sally’s sister, but he hadn’t regretted it so far.

  He just wished that the two of them would stop bickering all the time. If there was a reason that he’d never had children of his own, this was it.

  “Sorry,” Taylor replied sheepishly. “I only came up here to give you a report from Cali Port.”

  “And yet you instead decided to harass me,” Gonzo said, but soon quietened back down after a stern glare from Lucas.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Cali Port has been in a recent decline following the terrorist attack on the council,” Taylor began. “Though so far Director Freya and her adventurers have managed to keep the communists at bay. They recently pushed them back to the far side of town and are currently dealing with holdouts. The port is secure, or as secure as it can be in a warzone, but there will be danger in crossing the city.”

  “I’d suggest we skip the port all together, Highness,” Gonzo said. “If we sail up the coast we can dock at New Port instead and make our way to Castalor from there.”

  Lucas waited a moment before responding, stroking his chin with his armoured forefinger and thumb. He’d been wearing his golden armour for almost a week straight, taking it off only to sleep. It had basically become a second skin.

  How does Kaleb do it? He wondered, as his crotch chaffed and his elbow ditches itched.

  He hated wearing armour.

  “No,” he eventually replied. “New Port is too far; it’ll add at least another week onto our journey and I want to get there in time for the tournament. This will be my first public showing as king and tardiness is most certainly not next to godliness.”

  “What’s so important about this tournament anyway?” Gonzo asked, irritation leaking into his voice.

  “Oh Gonzo my dear, your ignorance is showing,” Taylor teased. “Believe me, it’s important. Supposedly diplomats and royalty the world over are journeying in for it, including our king’s father. My little birdies tell me that every god in the pantheon is going to be present. Supposedly this is the first tournament of its kind in generations.”

  “You can hardly count Chyrsus as a god,” Gonzo scoffed. “He’s no better than a common cutthroat.”

  “A common cutthroat with an army of cultists at his back,” Lucas added. “The ones we found near Havar were absolute fanatics and they were only low levelled. Even a child could have beaten them, it was truly pathetic. Imagine how much trouble the high levelled ones could be.”

  “Lower levelled than a child?” Gonzo scoffed, “how could that be?”

  “Simple,” Taylor answered, “they were sacrifices.”

  “Sacrifices?”

  “How do you think Chrysus gained his power so quickly? He’s only been alive for what, six hundred years? He’s barely older than Lucas’ father and that man is the closest human, I’ve heard of, to ascending,” Taylor said matter-of-factly.

  Gonzo looked at her with a dumb expression so, with a sigh, she explained. “Chrysus sacrifices the cultists he believes are unimportant. He literally takes their experience for himself and leaves them to start again from scratch. That’s his secret, that’s how he rose to prominence so fast, and it’s why we found all those low levelled adult cultists in the palm tree jungle.”

  “Be careful Taylor,” Lucas warned, “sacrificing followers is a forbidden practice. That art was lost to this world long ago.”

  “Until now,” she said conspiratorially.

  “Well,” Gonzo interjected, “these fairy tales of yours are very entertaining even if they fail to account for Nyx, the youngest and newest god, but we still need to decide which port we’re going to disembark at.”

  “Nyx is probably at it too, I’m sure even you’ve heard the rumours about him and-” Taylor quietened as Regina lifted his hand to silence her.

  “I already said,” Lucas replied, “it’s Cali Port.”

  “But-”

  “I can’t be late for my first international appearance as king, and besides, there’s an old friend of mine recovering in Cali Port. I intend to pay her a visit.”