Interlude: The Years That Passed

  The political situation in the Kingdom of Etrica didn’t seem to move much.

  All the dukes upheld public order properly, and the lesser nobles kept their disputes under the table. That appearance of calm, however, was nothing more than a smokescreen for the plans Girasol had been building from the shadows.

  She never forgot what Vlad did to her family and friends.

  How could she?

  Even if she wasn’t guided by vengeance, she still wanted to free her people so they would never suffer the same fate as Sora.

  To do that, she contacted the secret police she hated so much—an organization steeped in darkness, filled with spies, agents, and personal assassins. Girasol planned to tell Ulric about them when he was older, because she didn’t want to fill his heart with darkness at such a young age (even if he already suspected they existed).

  Among the activities of these mysterious hooded figures was collecting information throughout the streets. They often disguised themselves as artisans, beggars, petty thieves, debt collectors, and even prostitutes.

  Contrary to popular belief, they almost never wore uniforms. The only exception was the assassins, who always wore leather armor and a full hood.

  Girasol didn’t kill anyone, to avoid raising suspicion. She kept information on her side at all times—and because of that, she discovered something truly alarming:

  Duchess Sabrina had betrothed her eldest son, a thirteen-year-old boy, to the second daughter of an Apollean noble.

  That was a very ugly red flag.

  It meant she had essentially tied her house to the enemy nobility.

  Since ancient times, the Duchy of Macedón had clashed with the crown. They were the ones who led the coup that ended with the deposition of the King of Dead Snow, the greatest tyrant ever to sit on Etrica’s throne.

  After Apollo’s conquest, the duchy opened its doors to trade and built good relations with Vlad and his family. Vlad wasn’t stupid: instead of looting them and vandalizing their caravans—as he did to the Duchy of Draco—he gave the Macedón nobles gifts, gestures of goodwill, and constant invitations to dances.

  That difference in treatment became even more obvious during Girasol’s regency.

  Meanwhile, Steven Black Vase was thrilled to have his youngest baron-son return. He was no longer the crying brat Steven despised, but a brave boy who—while lacking talent for weapons—made up for it with total discipline and dedication.

  As an extra note: Steven approved his son’s desire to become an artist, but only if he fulfilled his duties as a noble, and he demanded he become the greatest painter of all.

  “A Black Vase never takes anything lightly.”

  That was the duke’s phrase—and the motto of his entire house.

  There was scarcely any news from the Duchy of Chiapa; its geography was complicated by vast jungles that seemed to never end. Its inhabitants, unlike the rest, didn’t wear steel armor, but heat- and humidity-resistant fabrics.

  Duke Nepomuceno was a strange figure, even among nobles. He never wore upper garments and attended formal meetings with his torso bare and a massive longbow slung across his back.

  Meanwhile, in the great plains filled with shrubs, deer, and bandits, Duchess Violeta suffered a wave of insecurity without precedent. She was forced to use knights to maintain public order, because the Gray Fist still operated strongly in that region.

  The land didn’t help either. Because everything was flat—no trees or brush to slow riders—many renegades gathered in large numbers to attack merchants and travelers carrying goods to the duchy.

  At first, merchants formed larger caravans and hired a few mercenaries. But the harassment and assaults reached a point where the knights’ participation in battle became necessary.

  The duchess sent her eldest son, Sir Lucius, on a full campaign to clear the roads. With two hundred riders, they constantly patrolled the paths around the duchy, and they had no intention of being defeated by a bunch of thieves.

  Finally, the duchy most battered by enemy domination was Draco, whose villages suffered constant raids by rampaging nobles who acted with impunity along Etrica’s border.

  Duke Sigfrido, a young man of only twenty-two, could only watch in frustration as his villagers arrived begging for justice. Seeing furious peasants because their daughters were being kidnapped—and never returned—was what enraged him most. If it were up to him, he would have gathered his levies already and formed a defensive cordon.

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  Unfortunately, if he defended himself, King Vlad II could take it as a sign of rebellion and use it as a fully valid casus belli for a new invasion.

  Sigfrido, however, wasn’t a hot-blooded fool. He was fully aware of the enormous difference between his troops and Apollo’s. So he buried his resentment deep in his heart and waited for the perfect moment to strike back.

  One day, Sigfrido received a letter from King Ulric. By then, the monarch was already fourteen; he was only two years away from taking full power.

  The note read:

  “I see you have problems with foreign raiders. I’ll give you two pieces of advice.

  First: start organizing archery tournaments for the poorest. If you don’t have money for prizes, I’ll provide it myself. Disguise everything as local fairs—give beer to the spies, get drunk anyone you consider a threat to our plans. Start with two silver coins per winner. Make the contests monthly. Encourage children and teens to use bows and carve new ones on their own. Create themed events—rabbit hunts and anything that helps them shoot better.

  We all like festivals, right?

  This is not military training, obviously…

  You understand me?

  It’s not training. It’s just fun.

  Do you get it?

  Second: let’s assume the raiders come on horseback. Our border has no forests—just a huge plain with the occasional tree along a straight path.

  It would be very interesting if your farmers began to ‘receive’ reports of moles damaging crops, and the best way to get rid of moles is to open the ground to catch them. They’re a plague that must be eliminated, you understand?

  I assume you do. I imagine Draco’s farmers are sick of being robbed by moles.

  To catch them, you need to dig deep so they run. Make these holes around your domains, even if that makes it harder for horses to move quickly. It’s a sacrifice worth making.

  My coronation is approaching, and I’ll hold a grand tournament weeks before the event. I expect your presence so we can continue discussing how to deal with moles.

  Sincerely,

  Ulric León (no official titles yet).”

  Duke Sigfrido smiled and immediately summoned his castellan.

  “Do you need me, my lord?”

  “Yes. Announce to all commoners that we’re holding an archery tournament. The winner gets two full silver coins and a free dish at the local tavern. I will finance these competitions.”

  “As you command.” The noble found it strange, but obeyed without protest like a proper hidalgo.

  After watching his servant leave, Sigfrido crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into the blazing fireplace.

  Interesting things were coming for the Kingdom of Etrica…

  Meanwhile—

  King Vlad II decided to spend the afternoon with Duke Manius.

  Apollo’s busy sovereign took a sip of wine while reflecting on the current state of his expanding kingdom. Manius accompanied him, worry etched into his face.

  The brothers had received a report from their special agents on the southern border with Etrica—along with troubling movements from Kaiser Marco, ruler of the Demonic Reich.

  “The informants say the demons have been building fortresses on their borders,” Manius commented, draining an entire cup in one deep swallow. “It looks like they won’t submit peacefully.”

  “I already knew it. Those bastards refuse to kneel.” Vlad lifted his right hand to his chin, then closed his eyes and weighed his options. “We need to cut off all information about this. The Etricians must not learn of this tension, or they could seek an alliance with the Reich.”

  “Speaking of the Kingdom of Etrica, brother—that’s what I want to talk about. I’ve been told the villagers are healthier and healthier. There were hardly any starving children when my men passed through. They should be in ruins, but their quality of life keeps improving no matter how much gold and grain we take. Are they hiding something?”

  “I don’t think so, Manius. We would have found out by now. Maybe we should go to Girasol again to break her…” Vlad paused, then grimaced. “I’d like to say that, but I can’t leave the capital right now. Those demon dogs will taste my wrath very soon.”

  “In any case, Etrica is no threat to us. The little brat Ulric still has two years before he takes power, and even then, he’ll have to win the dukes’ support.” Manius considered the boy-king nothing more than an annoyance. After going there, violating his mother, killing the boy’s precious servant, and ruining his alliances through his bastard daughter, he believed Ulric was controlled.

  Vlad didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his right hand.

  “Eva, come here.”

  The door to the private chamber opened at once, and a thin girl with short hair entered. She wore a simple blue dress, brown slippers, and a red headband.

  “Did you call for me, my lord?”

  “Yes. Take this letter to my scribes so they can copy it and send it to the most powerful nobles.”

  “As you command.” The girl took the important paper and immediately hurried to the scholars to reproduce the king’s words.

  “So we’re conquering the Kaiser first, huh?” Manius licked his lips, thrilled at the promise of war. If demons had anything, it was a deeply rooted martial culture inherited from their savage mythical ancestors.

  Now, however, they weren’t much different from humans in behavior. The only noticeable differences were cat ears on some, dog-like tails on others, and—among a minority—horns atop their heads.

  Another difference was hair color: most of them had blue, violet, or pink hair.

  And of course, they could reproduce with humans.

  “When we conquer the Reich and seize its resources, I’ll invent a casus belli to raid Etrica again. If we let them grow, they could become a stone in the shoe of my ambitions.” Vlad stood and left his brother alone in the room. “I have things to handle. Prepare the troops—we march next month.”

  “Of course, brother… Kaiser Marco will die!”

  Once away from the room, Vlad II headed to the hall where the scribes were copying his instructions.

  “Eva,” he called again to the girl who waited beside the busy copyists. “Come here.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty? What is it?”

  “What do you think of King Ulric?” Vlad asked quietly, concerned by Etrica’s recent improvement in quality of life.

  “There’s something strange about him. I told you four years ago. I can’t explain it well, but he’s definitely not normal. It’s like his personality is… out of context.”

  “Out of context?” Vlad still didn’t understand his loyal servant. Instead of striking her—as he would have any other woman who failed to answer—he made the effort to reason.

  “Yes… like he’s an external element in the world. Someone who came from a very, very distant place.”

  “I admit it worries me what that brat might do in a few years. So I’m giving you a special mission: watch King Ulric’s movements, and if you notice anything strange, tell me immediately.”

  “The last thing we need right now is a two-front war. Do you understand?”

  “At your command.” Eva smiled with malice. She had been waiting for the chance to suggest hostile actions against Etrica. Fortunately for her, it had arrived sooner than expected.

  “Good. Deliver my letters—and you know the rest.”

  Vlad II left, and the girl was delighted with her new orders.

  The years passed, and the moment slowly drew nearer. The world was about to enter a new age of chaos and turbulence.

  End of interlude.