Duke's Return

The sky above Duskwatch was choked with dark smoke that rose from the crushed remains of the city's subterranean black market. Luenor and Hunter walked silently through the narrow, barren streets, Luenor with blood and soot trailing behind him, each step of his drenched boots leaving a smear. The auction hall was theirs to claim now— but that fell under the category of "next" as the next piece of the plan was already set in motion.

"Couldn't you have died back there?" Hunter mumbled while he studied Luenor's tattered cloak in which his injuries beneath were still visible. "Was really all of that mana explosion necessary?"

Luenor didn't break stride, "Fighting that wind bitch along with a pack of thrashing slaves all at the same time was a lot. I needed something…bigger."

Hunter shook his head, "You're strong, but you need to get stronger. Faster. Cleaner."

"Next time, maybe," Luenor said with a wry smile.

The gates which heralded the Marquess's manor where approaching, with knights posted around the perimeter. The silence of the estate loomed above them like a cloak.

As they approached, one knight stepped out in front of him. Sir Varin. He seemed nervous. 

"The Marquess isn't meeting people tonight."

Luenor never broke his pace. "Not even Alfrenzo?"

Varin thought for a moment. "...Stay here."

After a moment, Varin nodded his head softly, and motioned for the guards to stand down. 

When Luenor was passing beside Varin, he said, "Send a couple of knights to the auction house. If you don't, the entire black market might go up in flames."

Varin's eyes widened. 

Everywhere he looked, tension loomed. The Marquess Winsor Duskwatch sat upon his throne-like seat, with his son Argen next to him. Ren if not from some other world sat, finger over the knotted area where Hunter's fist that met his face some days before. 

The Marquess's eyes zeroed in on the bleeding condition of Luenor and the deadly intention exuding from Hunter. "So... you've actually done it..." 

Luenor twisted an entire smile underneath his broken mask. "Thanks for honoring your part of the deal." 

The Marquess narrowed his eyes. "Understand that the Duke is not going to take kindly to what you've done. He will retaliate."

"That is why, I am here," said Luenor, taking a step forward. "You need to betray the Duke."

The room was caught in stunned silence.

"What?" Winsor finally erupted. "How in the hell would an old man from the frozen corner of the kingdom go against the fucking Duke?!"

Luenor's expression remained unchanged. "What if that old man had the backing... of another Duke?"

Hunter stepped forward and threw something on the table: the silver and sapphire crest of House Sureva.

Winsor's face lost all colour. Argen gasped. Even Ren stepped back and shook his head in disbelief.

"He's... supposed to be dead," Winsor whispered.

"I hear that a lot," Luenor said offhandedly.

Then he leaned in a bit closer and lowered his voice.

"Now tell me... about the Aurum Convergence."

Winsor swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "It happened three years ago. A plan... To get rid of Duke Sureva. Duke Siegfried, Count Hill and a few other nobles were worried about the Sureva's becoming too powerful after bringing the elves and gnomes into the Alliance. The Alliance was supposed to... tip the scales at least. Nobles were bribed and black-mailed. The Mage Tower was told to close their eyes. Then the purge happened. Rhea was supposed to die. You... were supposed to die."

For a long moment Luenor stood silently, and then faintly said, "Mellon will be helpful after all."

"Helpful?" Winsor said.

"I'll need you to make a list," Luenor continued, undeterred. "Every noble who still is sympathetic to the Surevas. Send it to Echlion."

Still utterly dumbfounded, Winsor nodded.

Hunter assisted Luenor to turn as they reached the door.

After they departed, Argen turned to his father with wide eyes. "What just happened?"

Winsor exhaled and collapsed into his chair. "He might be a Duke again... and, this time, he won't be asking."

____

A new scent drifted into Echilon on the wind: timber, sweat, and hope. Another expansion was underway. Dion stood among a forest of newly erected wooden beams and half-laid stone walls, barking orders at workers and volunteers alike. Next to him was Lyssari; sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, moved among freed slaves—both humans and elves—offering water, blankets and words of comfort.

"You are safe now," she said repeatedly, with calm determination. The children clung to her fingers. Elder slaves looked at her with vacant eyes but seemed to have lifelessly blinking lids. 

Nearby, Telmar found Faren outside of the clinic. "Thalanar?"

"Alive. Barely. Hera is tending him." Faren's face was solemnly solemn. "She hasn't left his side."

Inside the Manor, Luenor sat bandaged up in his office, arms crossed, still feeling the pain from the wound from the night before. Dried blood crusted the seams of his tunic but his eyes burned with cold fire. He looked up as Faren entered.

"Double patrols in the vicinity of the northern watchtower," he said without looking. "Increase security on all shipments expediting away from the central depot as well. Duke Siegfried won't wait forever. I want everything in place to when he makes his move."

____

Far away in the grand duchy of Nowastra, Duke Siegfried sat on his stone throne, tapping the armrest in time with the metronome of his heart. His cold glare was directed at the man kneeling before him, the one who had crawled out from the embers of Duskwatch's black market.

"Sureva... Luenor Sureva," Siegfried thought bitterly.

Nags stood rigidly by his side, fists tightly clasped. His sister-a fire mage by the name of Raveera-had placed herself irresponsibly, upright, on the duke's table. Her legs crossed casually and flames lazily dancing from her fingertips in indifference to any protocol-not unnoticed by anyone and tolerated by all.

"You failed to kill the brats three years ago," came the duke's cold voice.

"I am aware," Nags growled. "I should've made certain-I'll see to it now. I'll burn that cursed city myself."

"You'll do no such thing" Raveera quipped, eyes flaring. "If he's alive, Hunter Gardan is with him. Let the king's appointed dogs have their puppets in the north to worry over. They will sniff into your affairs, because this time, it isn't just you running the table."

Siegfried grunted, "First we will scout. Let's find out how far this `Alfrenzo` has stretched. See how my dear vassals are."

The silent knight standing beside them finally spoke. "What of the captives from the auction?"

"Send our dogs," Siegfried said. "And send a message."