Esmeralda was surprised by how well she had slept in recent weeks, despite Varga being alive and the potential threat he posed. She realized she hadn’t needed her usual morning drink for several days, and her nightmares had grown less frequent.

  Esmeralda smoothed her modest black dress before the mirror. Today was Agent Aon’s state funeral, and a pang of guilt washed over her. What right did she have to feel better—both emotionally and physically—on a day when Aon was laid to rest for her sins? The familiar urge to reach for a bottle tugged at her; perhaps she had been too quick to believe she had conquered her inner daemons.

  A knock on the door saved her from giving in to temptation. Esmeralda crossed the room and opened it to find her best friend, Paya, waiting outside.

  Esmeralda hadn’t reached out, but she’d prayed Paya would come, and she was relieved when her prayers were answered.

  “Paya!“ she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the Grang’s slender neck.

  "Esmeralda, I’m glad to see you well,” Paya said after their long embrace.

  Esmeralda wiped her eyes with the back of her arm, fighting back tears. The realization that Paya was all she had left hit her like a gut punch.

  “You’ve made quite a name for yourself. The case you worked on is huge and creating a buzz back at headquarters,” Paya said, tactfully overlooking Esmeralda’s emotional lapse as only a close friend would.

  “All it has gotten me a mountain’s worth of paperwork,” Esmeralda commented, sharing a chuckle with Paya.

  “Come in. I will make tea,” Esmeralda said, realizing they were still standing in the hall.

  “Tea?” Paya asked, her nose holes flaring—the telltale sign Esmeralda had come to recognize as her version of raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes, it’s Grang tea,” Esmeralda answered, catching the unspoken question.

  “That would be lovely,” Paya said, as Esmeralda ushered her inside and prepared the tea. They shared stories of their work as agents, and Esmeralda was surprised to learn Paya had handled her share of high-profile cases.

  Paya had raided a safe house for the Union of Necromancers, an organization that harbors and practices necromancy. Publicly, they were dismissed as a small, disheveled group of crackpots. However, internally, the Vestigare viewed them as one of the greatest threats to the Five Kingdoms.

  Paya had also worked with the renowned necromancer hunter, Agent Julio. Though their efforts didn’t lead to an arrest, they managed to seize the safe house and the necromantic contraband inside. Still, it was an impressive achievement for an agent as young as Paya.

  Esmeralda felt terrible for having to lie to her friend when discussing her exploits, but from now on, she wouldn’t have to cover up her life.

  "I think we’d better get going," Paya said.

  Esmeralda nodded. As much as she didn’t want to leave this comfortable moment with her friend, it was time.

  They arrived at the Vestigare temple. It was draped in red banners and adorned with the Grang god of war’s symbols, honoring both Aon and his heritage.

  Esmeralda had never seen so many Grang gathered in one place before. Some were Vestigare agents, while others served the Grang empire.

  “Agent Esmeralda, just the person I was hoping to see,” a voice called from behind her.

  Esmeralda turned to see Head Agent Edgen and Agent Rowlin approaching.

  Before she could say anything, Edgen spoke again.

  "Agent Rowlin, Agent Paya, could you give us a moment?" Head Agent Edgen said, brushing past Esmeralda.

  "Walk with me."

  They moved away from the crowd, making their way to a large tree. Once there, Edgen stopped and twisted the ring on his finger. Esmeralda’s ears popped, like they would on a windship when the altitude changes.

  “We can speak freely now,” Head Agent Edgen said, confirming the magik surrounding them—a sphere of silence.

  “Agent Esmeralda, I want you on the Vestigare counterintelligence team. Your task: identify moles and traitors. You’ll have extensive resources at your disposal, and your chain of command will be short, giving you significant latitude to complete your mission. Succeed, and I’ll give you a team—then a division. I see great things for you. Keep excelling, and one day you’ll be running counterintelligence.”

  “Head Agent, I’m honored, and I’d be a fool to turn down such an offer, but I have one humble question before I accept.” The Head Agent’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he offered a smile and nodded for her to continue.

  “Why me?”

  “I suppose I can indulge your question, Agent Esmeralda. First, Agents Aon and Rowlin spoke highly of you in their reports, and I trust my senior agents. Second, you’re already aware of the moles within the Vestigare, which keeps that knowledge tightly contained. Lastly, you’re hungry. Few agents accomplish what you have in such a short time, and those who do always go on to have remarkable careers.”

  As Esmeralda digested the Head Agent’s explanation, the irony wasn’t lost on her. Her promotion was engineered by Balrik.

  “Thank you for indulging my curiosity, Head Agent. I gratefully accept your offer.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  And just like that, life handed her a path to redemption.

  Varga woke to the smell of Kokal’s cooking—barley porridge and goat, if his nose wasn’t deceiving him. It had been nearly six months since he’d returned to Cacoo and persuaded Kokal to run away with him. Three months later, they married in the City-State of Irmain.

  Varga found a ramshackle out of the city walls, taking odd jobs, guarding caravans, and other mercenary work. When they first arrived, there were several traders from the Five Kingdoms, and their common backgrounds made for several business opportunities. It wasn’t glamorous, but it provided for Kokal and him.

  Varga dressed and went to the other room, where Kokal stood stirring porridge.

  “About time you woke up. I was beginning to think I’d need a new husband,” Kokal teased as Varga hugged her from behind.

  “Just make sure he isn’t better looking than I,” Varga murmured into her neck, making her laugh.

  “Is it even possible to find someone that ugly?” Kokal retorted through her fit of giggles.

  Kokal turned to kiss him before serving the porridge, topped with roasted goat. They ate, savoring each other’s company, before Varga left for Irmain in search of work.

  Days passed, and food grew scarcer, but Kokal never complained. Varga went to Irmain each day, though work had dried up since the traders from the Five Kingdoms left.

  This morning, Varga prepared to leave, following his usual routine, when a knock on the door interrupted him. Kokal’s eyes widened in fear. Varga motioned for silence, pointing to the bedroom. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and disappeared inside.

  With his dueling sword already strapped to his belt, Varga figured he could take down one or two Vestigare agents before they overwhelmed and killed him.

  “Varga, open up,” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the door.

  Varga struggled to place the voice until it called out again.

  “I know you and Kokal are in there. If I meant you harm, I wouldn’t have knocked.”

  Finally, it hit him.

  “Fulope?” Varga asked.

  “Yes. I am glad marriage hasn’t fully domesticated you yet,” Fulope responded.

  Varga unlatched the door and swung it open.

  Fulope looked just as Varga remembered: rotund, dressed in a bright orange jacket, and leaning on a thick walking cane. But Fulope wasn’t alone. A Grang Varga had never seen stood about two horse-lengths away.

  The Grang was shorter than most of his kind, but his presence made him seem like a giant. His rust-colored scales glinted in the light as he stood with arms crossed, dressed in red trousers and a black shirt, watching. Varga swore he could feel the Grang judging him.

  Fulope sighed, loud enough to break the tension.

  “If you two are going to stare each other down like stray cats in an alley, I suppose proper introductions are in order,” he said.

  ““Master Varga, I present to you, Master Krin.”

  “Krin the Red?” Varga blurted before he could stop himself.

  “Indeed. That saves us valuable time if you already know who I am,” Krin added.

  Krin the Red was as much a myth as a public enemy in the Five Kingdoms. Criminals aspired to be him, while Vestigare agents dreamed of being the one to bring him to justice.

  “I need your talents, Varga. Naturally, you’ll be rewarded handsomely for your time.”

  "My talents?" Varga repeated, hearing the uncertainty threading through his voice.

  “Your talents—and the fact that you’re in a unique position,” Krin replied smoothly.

  “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Master Krin,” Varga said, attempting to keep his voice neutral.

  “Master Krin believes you’d be a perfect fit for his operation because he knows you can’t go to the Vestigare—even if you wanted to,” Fulope answered before Krin could.

  “The Vestigare? I’d never—” Varga started, but Fulope cut him off with a wave of his meaty hand.

  “Drop the act, Varga. We know you worked for Agent Aon, and I’ve learned the Vestigare claimed you went rogue after the mission. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t need to. The point is— whoever you pissed off made it impossible for you to return. It will only be a matter of time before Five Kingdoms caravans get your description, and then you’ll be out of options, and possibly, out of time.”

  “Master Fulope, I’m not here to threaten Master Varga. I’m offering him work in good faith,” Krin said, wagging a single finger at Fulope.

  “My apologies, Master Krin. Perhaps I’m letting my feelings about this man being a Vestigare snitch cloud my judgment,” Fulope retorted, gesturing toward Varga as if he weren’t there.

  “Balrik was working with the Vestigare the entire time you worked for him. I suggest you remove your prejudices from the equation and refrain from sabotaging my negotiations with the young man,” Krin said, his voice edged with impatience.

  Krin turned his attention to Varga. “I came with an offer of work. Most of it will be illegal, but I won’t blackmail you into working for me. If you refuse, you’ll have nothing to fear from me. However, Master Fulope is correct: you probably don’t have much time before someone comes for you.”

  “What if I’ve had enough of illegal work and want to work in Irmain, making legal coin?” Varga asked, trying to buy time to process everything happening.

  “Are you working now?” Krin asked, chuckling. “I don’t mean to make light of your situation, but the locals have noticed you leapfrogging them for Five Kingdoms work, and I doubt you’ll get anything but spite from the Irmites.”

  Varga hated to admit it, but Krin’s words made sense.

  “I need to protect my wife,” Varga replied.

  “Some of my men have families, and all of them would die to protect their own. It will be much safer in a group of like-minded individuals than alone.”

  Kokal deserved a better life than he had provided, and he couldn’t look her in the eye if he turned down a chance to give her everything she was worth.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I have various operations—some legitimate, like escorting caravans through my territories, and others less so, like supplying illegal substances for drugs and potions. You’ll help keep those operations running.”

  “If I may ask, Master Krin, and I mean no offense, but why don’t you handle your operations yourself?”

  Krin laughed again.

  “That’s blunt, but fair. It’s not that I can’t do it; I just have other interests these days.”

  “Interests more important than your bandit empire?”

  “For someone who just got a way to escape the Vestigare for good, you sure ask a lot of questions,” Krin said, rubbing his mandible.

  “I learned that asking questions is a critical part of survival,” Varga retorted.

  “Well put. To answer your question, I’m in the treasure-hunting business now, particularly in Nawahl tombs.”

  Varga couldn’t see how he could provide his wife with the lifestyle she deserved if he didn’t accept Krin’s offer.

  “I will do it,” Varga said before the memories of his life under Balrik changed his mind.

  “Excellent. Get your wife ready. We leave immediately.”

  As Varga prepared to leave, the irony of going from an undercover Vestigare agent—because his unknown ties to the underworld prevented him from achieving his dream of becoming an agent to make the world a better place—to an actual criminal, working for Krin the Red, one of the most wanted individuals in the Five Kingdoms, and helping him maintain order in his bandit enterprise was not lost on him.

  At that moment, Varga understood—the gods weren’t just watching; they were laughing.

  https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B09VK3JZ8V

  https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B09VKC3TRR

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/52820/fragments-from-the-wildlands