Commerce Emperor
Chapter Forty-Five: The Wages of Victory

Archfrost was safe.

Two seasons had passed since I returned home and started contending with Belgoroth’s influence. I had spent months dealing with his Blights, stamping out his cult, and preventing wars that would empower him. A good third of our current generation of Heroes had dedicated all of its efforts towards foiling the Lord of Wrath.

And we won.

In spite of overwhelming odds, we had succeeded where even the first generation failed: we had defeated a Demon Ancestor for good. We didn’t seal away or delay Belgoroth’s return, no. We’d truly destroyed him. The Sword of Wrath lay shattered, its wielder’s soul imprisoned inside its remains until it faded away. We had saved Archfrost—nay, the world—from annihilation.

So why was I in no mood to celebrate?

“I want you to understand what you are selling away,” I told the man before me. “You will never see your arm again.”

“I understand perfectly.” His gaunt frame and priestly robes looked familiar, although it took me a while to recall why. “This is not the first time we met in similar circumstances, Lord Robin. Do you remember me?”

“I think I do,” I replied. I remembered my first court session clearly. “You are Bishop Sigislav Hranslow. When the Arcane Abbey condemned you for your Reformist views, I proposed to reduce your sentence to community service.”

“And I refused,” the man confirmed. “My decision cost me months of monastic reclusion, but I do not regret it in the slightest.”

I studied him closely. “Why are you here? From what I remember, you called Heroes unworthy of worship in your sermons. Why offer your arm to one?”

“I still stand by what I said. Heroes are humans entrusted with a duty, not idols to be adored.” The man smiled warmly at me. “However, their deeds and sacrifices ought to be honored. We could see the fires all the way from Snowdrift, Lord Robin. You were ready to lay down your life to save us from evil incarnate, and though I do not worship you, I wish to honor your valor in any way I can.”

“You do not owe me anything,” I countered. “Snowdrift was my home. I fought to defend it as any other would have in my case.”

“Few would have stood their ground against a Demon Ancestor, Lord Robin,” the priest replied kindly. “Moreover, it is because of your treaty with Walbourg that I was allowed to leave the monastery without facing persecution. I will not leave this room until you accept your reward.”

He was quite the stubborn one. I guessed he had to be, to stand up to the Arcane Abbey.

I bowed to his resolve by signing the contract. My mark glowed upon validating the deal. New flesh grew over my left stump. A fresh limb replaced the one I had lost to Belgoroth’s sword, strong and young. I suppressed a pang of sorrow when my benefactor found himself with an empty sleeve. The bag of gold that teleported in front of him didn’t feel heavy enough.

“Strange,” the priest said upon studying my new arm. “Why does it not look like my arm anymore?”

“It’s thanks to a wording trick. I purchased your arm, but I explicitly refused to buy its appearance.” A subtlety which I had picked upon when trading away people’s wounds. “It causes the grafted limb to shift into one that fits the current owner.”

“Interesting wordplay.” The priest glanced at the bag of coins with disinterest. “I do not need your money, Lord Robin. I understand that you need to offer a price to buy my limb, but I am not so helpless as to be unable to work.”

“Then find a good use for those funds,” I told the priest. “This country has plenty of orphans who would benefit from an adult’s help.”

“I must make a poor priest, to be scolded for my lack of foresight.” After a moment’s hesitation, Bishop Sigislav finally swallowed his pride and seized his payment. “Very well, Lord Robin. I shall use these funds wisely.”

“My friend Marika will design a prosthetic for you too. They are no true substitutes for missing limbs yet, but we are working on improving them.”

“Is this what you merchants call ‘customer support’?” Bishop Sigislav asked with a wry smile. “Do not concern yourself with me, Lord Robin. You will need your hands more than I will.”

That may be true, but I still hoped to create a full replacement for missing limbs one day. I believed we could create perfect prosthetics in time with Soraseo’s and Marika’s help. If golems could move arms of steel, why not men?

Bishop Sigislav left my hospital room afterwards, leaving me alone. I took the occasion to jump out of my bed. My new right leg had been slightly longer than the left one, but I managed to correct that issue by selling an inch of it away. They fit me just like the old ones.

A cloud of white smoke filled my room.

“You might be the first Merchant to try to dissuade people from selling you their body parts, Robin,” Eris noted upon teleporting in. “Half of Snowdrift volunteered for the honor, but you haggled over each one.”

“Were you eavesdropping?” I raised an eyebrow at her in amusement. “Isn’t it a sin to listen to another priest’s confession?”

“Only if you don’t keep the secret,” Eris teased me back. “Can you blame me? You wouldn’t be the first Merchant slain by a hidden assassin. I wonder why you insisted on meeting your volunteers one-on-one.”

“Because I do not want them to feel pressured,” I replied. My new legs and arms bore visible scars where they had joined with my body. A permanent reminder of the gifts others granted me. “Trades like these ones should be carried out without any regrets. I wished to buy limbs that would be the least missed.”

It had taken me long enough, but I had fully recovered.

Our fateful battle with Belgoroth had left me comatose for a while. When I awakened days later, I’d learned that we had been evacuated to Snowdrift for immediate care. Healers and witchcrafters spent enough time purging my body of Belgoroth’s foul essence that Therese and our allies managed to travel all the way back from the capital to check on us.

“How are the others faring?” I asked Eris. I knew Marika, Roland, Soraseo, Alaire, and Selestine had recovered—enough that they apparently visited me in my coma—but Cortaner was still in critical condition the last time I checked.

I worried for Colmar the most, however. Whereas I’d been lucky to survive with just my limbs cut off, my undead friend had lost his entire body except for his hand. It was a miracle his will endured in this form at all.

“Cortaner will make it. Do you know what he told me when I last visited him? The Goddess condemned me to live with my regrets, Belarra. I have made peace with it, and so should you.” Eris scoffed. “That’s Corty for you. He’ll never change.”

“No, he won’t,” I replied. I couldn’t help but notice that his words to Eris could be interpreted in multiple ways. “I admire his resilience. I thought Belgoroth ripping off his Penitent One’s armor would kill him.”

“That man has survived worse. The first thing he asked for upon waking up was to have the removed chest piece put back on.”

I shuddered to even imagine what ordeal could be worse than being beaten to near death by a demonic embodiment of all the world’s fury. At least Cortaner didn’t suffer those injuries for nothing.

“What happened to the Sword of Wrath?” I questioned Eris. “Has it been secured?”

“Lady Alexios has decided to take the fragments to a place unknown to me,” Eris explained. “I assume she will seal the sword in a secret Sanctuary and wait for its essence to purify the old Knight’s mark. Bel’s soul will remain imprisoned inside until that day comes to pass.”

A process that might take decades for all we knew. “Do you think he might find a way to escape again?”

“I don’t think so. He has no way of consenting to a trade even if my other self gathered all the sword’s fragments. Without the flow of wrathful essence fueling his curse, Bel’s soul is powerless.” Eris looked away. “He will spend his final years in solitary confinement.”

I studied her sorrowful expression. In spite of his atrocities and attempted murder of her, Eris still considered the fallen Knight a friend. “Do you regret putting him there?”

“I regret binding his soul to a sword at all.” Eris clutched her staff in her sorrow. “Silly as it sounds, I thought that he would become courage itself when I soulforged his sword. I hoped to preserve Bel forever at his best: the bravest Knight I ever knew.”

Instead, Belgoroth’s soul turned to hatred and fury. Unlike Roland, he had allowed his worst qualities to overwhelm his good ones.

“The frontier between valor and madness is often thin,” I reassured her. “We both gave him his chance to turn back from the latter, and he denied us.”

“I know.” Eris shook her head. “I’d hoped that he would take the hand I gave him. Instead, he pushed it away and chose to drown.”

“Redemption is a long and difficult road, Eris. Not everyone has the strength to take the first step.” I took her hand into mine with my new fingers. “I will help you avoid the pitfalls along the road, if you will let me.”

“Thank you, oh wise one.” Eris winked at me. “Your task should be easier, now that you have two arms to hold me with.”

“Beware, oh wicked nun of unfulfilled desire, one of these hands belonged to a holy man,” I teased her back with a mock, dramatic tone. “It shall only save the righteous.”

Eris laughed at my joke, and I found it to be the most beautiful sound in the world. It did not last long. Once she calmed down, she looked at my hands as they held her own.

“Robin,” she said, her tone solemn.

“Yes?” I replied.

“I’ve thought over what you said to me before we fought Belgoroth.” Eris gathered her breath. “Are you truly ready to commit to me? Even knowing… well, everything?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly. “If you are ready to commit back.”

“Then I stand by what I said. This won’t end well.” Eris chuckled lightly. “But I swear to you: I will do my best to help you prove me wrong.”

I suppressed a laugh of my own. “What kind of promise is that?”

“The best deal that you will ever get, handsome,” she teased me back. “We are in an exclusive contract now. There is no going back.”

No, there wasn’t. We had entered a serious relationship now. Come what may, I would see this through the end.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You know,” I said while drawing her closer, “since we’re alone here, we could–”

Someone knocked on the door as if on cue, much to my disappointment. I immediately recognized Beni’s light touch after living with him for so long; the shy boy had visited me each day since he returned to Snowdrift. He entered the room, politely bowed at Eris and me, and then gestured at me with hand-signs.

“Your mother wants to see us?” I translated, my brows furrowing into a deep scowl. “About Colmar?”

“She and Selestine must have finished grafting his glove to his new suit,” Eris said.

Somehow, Beni’s worried expression did not inspire confidence in me.

Eris and I followed the child through the corridors of Snowdrift’s hospice. Hundreds of wounded soldiers received treatment in its convalescent ward. The stench of blood and medicine choked my breath, and the sight of rows upon rows of beds filled with burn victims filled my heart with sorrow. Our victory had come at a cost.

Belgoroth’s rampage had left Archfrost’s northern armies shattered, with only a handful of the tens of thousands sent to protect Stonegarde returning alive. A set of catastrophic losses. The one silver lining was that the beastmen armies from the north had been similarly damaged and wouldn’t be able to muster any kind of invasion for years.

In a way, Belgoroth had ensured peace by ravaging both sides. Neither Archfrost nor its would-be invaders retained any strength left to continue the fight.

Beni guided us to a sizable laboratory deeper inside the building. Blood, bile, and other chemicals bubbled away on shelves in between over-laden bookshelves. Colmar had used this place as an office for much of his time in Snowdrift, and piles of scrolls adorned with his notes piled up on the cabinets.

Selestine, Marika, Soraseo, and Alaire were already present. All of them appeared to have recovered from the wounds they sustained in the battle, with our Priest covering her wings and scales under her robes. They surrounded a perfect copy of Colmar’s apothecary outfit, which they had lay bare on an operation table. My undead friend very much looked like one of his own patients.

“Robin.” Alaire smiled ear to ear upon seeing me. “Glad to see you back on your feet.”

“They aren’t my feet, technically, but—ouch!” Marika hugged me so tightly that I struggled to breathe. “Marika, you’re squeezing me!”

“It’s what you deserve for making me worry so much!” Marika replied upon letting me go. She immediately wiped away tears forming in her eyes. “Don’t frighten me like that ever again!”

“We were greatly worried for—about you,” Soraseo said with a warm and refined smile. “The healers thought that you might die in your sleep. Your wounds were severe.”

Selestine nodded and joined her hands in a quick prayer. “Thank the Goddess, your time has not come yet.”

“You worry too much,” I replied with a grin. I was so very glad to have such good friends. “I couldn’t pass on while Alaire still owes me her braid.”

Alaire grew a little flustered and crossed her arms. “You are the one owing us,” she protested. “You built the Vernisla using ours and Griselda’s funds, and then crashed it on its second flight! I should sell away my Frostfox Company shares at this breach of trust!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I never advertised the Vernisla as tomorrow’s method of travel,” I lied through my teeth. “It was always meant to be a weapons platform.”

“You should reinvent airships as dragonslaying arrows,” Eris suggested with glee. “Their seized hoard should more than cover the construction price.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Eris,” Marika said with a laugh. “One crash was enough, thank you very much.”

Alaire rolled her eyes in silent defeat, while Selestine smiled warmly. “What do you say, Colmar?” she asked. “Did you enjoy your first flight?”

The apothecary suit did not move an inch.

“Colmar?” I asked, a scowl spreading on my face. “Colmar, can you hear us?”

The silence that followed filled me with dread.

I exchanged worried glances with Marika and the others. I opened my mouth to ask again, when Colmar’s voice surged out of his apothecary outfit.

“I hear you… my friend.” The awkward pause in the sentence’s middle reminded me of a dying wheeze. The words were hardly louder than a whisper. “I cannot move. This suit does not answer my commands.”

Marika didn’t hide her disappointment. “Did the graft fail? I made sure to seamlessly intertwine your glove’s fibers with the rest of the fabric.”

“The graft was successful,” Selestine replied, a frown forming on her face. “However…”

My eyes lingered on the Alchemist’s mark on Colmar’s glove. I could have sworn that it had lost some of its luster.

“Robin?” Colmar’s voice sounded awfully resigned. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

I didn’t like his melancholic tone at all. “Of course, Colmar. Anything.”

“I would like you to take me to the Deadgate as soon as you can.” Colmar didn’t say more for a moment, as if struggling to speak. “Please take the journal I lent you with us. I would like you to write down the last entries for me.”

My heart skipped a beat at his wording. I wasn’t the only one to have picked up on it.

“The last entries?” Marika asked, her eyes widening in shock. “Colmar, what does that mean?”

“I…” Colmar’s voice grew weaker. “I struggle to speak.”

“We will let you rest and preserve your strength,” Selestine said with a tone that broke no dissent. She turned to Benicio next. “Young man, would you kindly look after him for us? I need to speak with your mother and the others.”

Beni dutifully nodded and stayed at Colmar’s side while Selestine took us outside. A frightful, familiar memory crossed my mind the moment she closed the door behind us: that time when a healer announced that my father would not survive the night.

“What was that for?” Alaire asked with a frown. “Don’t tell me…”

Selestine confirmed what we already suspected. “He won’t last long.”

Colmar was dying. Though I supposed ‘fading away’ would be a better term for a century-old ghost possessing a suit.

“How?” Soraseo asked, her fists tightening. “How is this possible?”

“An undead requires an anchor to remain among the living,” Selestine explained with a sad sigh. “Shambling corpses are trapped in their own decaying flesh, whereas ghosts are tied to items or locations that embody their lingering regrets. Colmar’s soul is bound to his suit, which Belgoroth damaged and befouled with his cursed flame.”

“But we’ve repaired the suit!” Marika protested. “The graft was successful!”

“Colmar’s soul is unfortunately tied to its original parts,” Selestine replied, her voice laced with sorrow. “I’d hoped that grafting the glove onto a new suit would tighten his grip on the world, but it seems that I was mistaken. I suspect exposure to Belgoroth’s essence has only further weakened him. Truthfully, I’m surprised that he hasn’t passed on yet.”

“There has to be another solution,” Alaire insisted. “Can’t you help, Robin?”

I shook my head. “My mark won’t validate any trade that involves touching his soul, nor do I think he would like me to fiddle with it. I could try to sell him more years, but I doubt it will work. His time has already come and passed.”

As much as it frustrated me, I could think of no clever loophole that would let us save Colmar’s soul from the afterlife. He wasn’t a dying man whose wounds I could sell away, but an ancient ghost haunting his own remains. My power wouldn’t let me buy or sell his soul’s connection to his glove, no more than it would have allowed it with Belgoroth.

“He hasn’t asked us to save him either,” Eris noted. “He wants to see the Deadgate. No more, no less.”

Marika looked at the ground in silent sorrow. “It’s his last request, isn’t it?”

I nodded sadly. A grim silence fell between us. One way or another, Belgoroth would claim one final victim.

“How much time does he have?” I asked Selestine.

“Days at most.” She looked into my eyes with the utmost seriousness. “If he requested that you go to the Deadgate, I would advise you to leave at the earliest opportunity. He may not survive the journey otherwise.”

“It will be a long trip even if we leave now,” Alaire warned us.

“Not so long by flight,” I replied while glancing at Marika. “Did you keep the prototype airship stashed away?”

“I did,” Marika confirmed. “I can modify it enough to house a small group. It will be no Vernisla II, but it should let us reach the Deadgate in time.”

“I will visit the Hunter in the northern lands,” Eris said. “He should guide us through the City of Wrath. We’ll meet there once you cross the mountains.”

“I will join you too,” Alaire decided. “I said I would go to the Deadgate too, and I owe Colmar that much.”

Soraseo nodded in assent, as I expected her to. Selestine alone decided to remain in Snowdrift to help heal the wounded and exorcize the last of Belgoroth’s influence. She also worried about the beastmen who had survived the Lord of Wrath’s rampage

“I’ve heard the soldiers discuss how to best hunt the stragglers.” Selestine tensed up as she spoke. She clearly worried for the safety of both parties. “I would like to talk with them first. I am certain that many among these beastmen were either deceived by the Knot of Wrath or press-ganged into the horde. If I can talk to them, I should be able to negotiate a peaceful solution.”

“You should speak with Roland,” Alaire suggested. “He carries no animosity for beastmen and his men adore him. If he asks for a truce, then no man in Archfrost will dare disobey him.”

My gaze lingered on Selestine’s robes. Now that I paid closer attention, it seemed that she folded her wings underneath them like a second layer of clothes. “About the battle–”

Selestine’s smile had a dangerous edge to it. “Here be dragons, Lord Merchant. Here be dragons.”

“I see,” I replied without probing any further. I was dying of curiosity, but I respected a friend’s privacy. “To each their own secrets.”

“We kept Colmar’s, so I guess we can do the same with yours,” Marika confirmed.

“I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. Perhaps one day, I will be ready to tell you more. But today is not that day.” Selestine gave our group a polite bow. “I shall pray to the Artifacts to grant you good wind, and the Goddess to ensure your safe journey.”

Both prayers would be welcome.

Our adventures in Archfrost were about to come to an end.

Once I was discharged from the hospice, I made my way to Snowdrift’s Black Keep for the last time. Queen Therese herself came to welcome me the moment I showed myself at the gates in all of her finery.

“Greetings, Robin,” she said with a regal reverence. “It warms my heart to see that you have recovered.”

“You look divine, Therese.” I quickly kissed her hand and the golden ring on her finger. “But you’re probably tired of hearing it all the time.”

“Far from it.” Therese let out a warm chuckle. “I will miss your charming ways whenever you leave.”

“I haven’t said anything of the sort.” Yet.

“We’ve known each other for half a year, Robin. I can tell our time together has come to an end.” Therese tilted her head to the side. She took my lack of protest as confirmation of her hypothesis. “My husband and I will miss you greatly.”

“Not enough to try to talk me out of leaving,” I teased her. “And here I was ready to duel the Knight for your hand once.”

“Between us, I did my best to set you up with Alaire,” Therese confessed with a sly chuckle. “Unfortunately, you both proved ill-matched. At least you found someone.”

“I suppose I did.” Though I doubted Eris would let me put a ring on her finger anytime soon. “I don’t struggle with finding people I like. It’s keeping them in my life that’s proving difficult.”

“Practice makes perfect, as they say,” Therese replied with a bemused wink. “Know you will always have a place in Roland’s life and mine, should you ever decide to stay in Archfrost.”

“Thank you, Therese.” I bowed at her. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer one day.”

Therese chuckled and swiftly invited me inside the Black Keep. The building overflowed with guards since Roland and his wife temporarily turned it into their base of operation. I suspected the two of them would likely rule Archfrost from here for a few weeks until the situation on the frontier stabilized.

“How are you managing the transition, now that Alaire has decided to abdicate?” I asked Therese as she guided me through a stairway to her husband’s office.

“I admit I was quite annoyed at first, after all the time my husband and I spent to secure her claim,” Therese conceded. “However, part of me always knew it would happen sooner or later. Alaire was born to ride, not to rule.”

“On that, we agree,” I replied. However, I had the feeling Alaire wouldn’t completely leave Archfrost just yet. The kingdom had stabilized somewhat, but it would remain in dire need of brave knights to deal with the remnants of Belgoroth’s influence. “I know you will do well in her place.”

“Snowdrift no longer needs a guiding hand, Robin,” Therese said to me. “You have made sure of it.”

It was such a bittersweet feeling, to see my work so complete that my help was no longer required.

“If I may ask,” I said. “Why did you want to become queen so much?”

“I assume you mean why did I want a crown more than love?” Therese winked at me. “Why, because I wanted to turn Archfrost into a vassal to the Everbright Empire. I am a dirty foreign spy sent to corrupt your beloved king after all.”

“Of course,” I replied with a chuckle. “And the real reason?”

“That was my original plan.” Therese briefly paused as we passed near a window, her eyes observing Snowdrift. “However… I confess that I have grown more attached to this country than my homeland after spending so many years in it. I wish to see it and its people prosper.”

“More than the Everbright Empire?”

“I believe my old homeland and the new can become close friends.” Therese chuckled. “But only on our terms.”

Archfrost would find no better stalwart defender.

Therese introduced me to her office. We found Roland working there behind a desk, stamping documents while looking bored to death. The King of Archfrost’s mood clearly brightened upon seeing me.

“You look terrible, Robin,” he said upon shaking my hand. Unlike mine, his new one was made of metal and silver rather than flesh. “But it’s good to see you out of bed.”

“Your Majesty doesn’t look too shabby either,” I teased him back, my eyes settling on his new hand. “I see you didn’t waste time replacing your lost body parts.”

“This is a witchcrafter-made prosthesis.” Roland examined his silver fingers. “I demanded that they add a hidden blade to it.”

“So it would count as a weapon for your power and thus let you control it seamlessly?” I couldn’t help but chuckle in admiration. “Seeking loopholes already? This proves that you are a true Hero, Roland.”

“He learned from the best,” Therese teased me. “You were a terrible influence on him, Robin.”

“A fact Therese will not let me live with.” Roland examined my new legs with slight discomfort. “Do they… fit?”

“They fit me well enough.” I sat on the desk. “I lack your valor, Roland. Selfish as it sounds, I would have missed that tingling sensation coursing through my veins whenever I flip a golden coin into the air.”

“You should have seen the lines of people who offered to take on your burden, Robin.” Roland smiled warmly. “One of my tutors once told me that a person’s worth was determined by how many lives they had touched. You have inspired thousands, my friend.”

“You flatter me.” I tried to smile, but for once I couldn’t find the strength to. “I won’t forget it.”

Roland’s expression soured. “I know this expression, Robin. This is the face of a man about to say goodbye.”

“I’m afraid so, Roland,” I confirmed. Eris had already departed for the northern lands, and the others were preparing our airship for departure. “We leave tomorrow at dawn. One of us can’t afford to wait any longer.”

“I’ve learned about Colmar’s condition. This is truly a shame. We couldn’t have defeated Belgoroth without his help. I and Archfrost owe him so much.” Roland scowled. “Is there nothing we can do for him?”

“There is.” I handed Roland a letter, which I had written under Colmar’s guidance. “He asked me to deliver this to you.”

Roland read the letter alongside Therese. Both frowned the further they read, the former more than the letter.

“He wishes me to spare that wench Florence.” Roland set the letter aside in disgust. “Is he mad? That woman started the Purple Plague that ravaged our land. The only reason I belayed her execution was to gather information on the Knot of Wrath. With Belgoroth’s destruction, her usefulness has come to an end.”

I almost regretted selling him his wrath back after I woke up. It would have made negotiations easier.

“I am no happier with it than you are,” I confessed. My parents had died because of Florence’s madness. If I had my say, she would rot in a special kind of hell until death; but I didn’t have the heart to argue with a dying friend’s final request. “However, Colmar believes that she could eventually be rehabilitated.”

“He is the only one to think so.” Roland set the letter on his desk. “At least he didn’t ask me to pardon her. Why does he care that she spends the rest of her life in prison instead of ten minutes in the gallows?”

“Because he is a doctor and his purpose is to save lives, even those that used to be his enemies,” I replied. “Those were his exact words.”

Privately, I also suspected that Colmar saw himself in Florence. He too had lost people and suffered prejudice. Perhaps he hoped Florence could learn to deal with her grief and make peace with her sins if given enough time.

“Florence is no threat to us anymore with her patron’s demise,” Therese argued. “Alive, she might come to regret her choices and become a productive member of our society. Death will solve nothing in her case.”

Roland pondered the letter’s words for a moment before reaching a decision. “I will ask Selestine to take care of her. She needs more healers than I can provide her with. Florence will pass from my jurisdiction to that of the Reformists.”

“A wise choice.” Selestine had taken it upon herself to guide Eris and could deal with Florence if she ever returned to her old ways. Part of me selfishly hoped that the fallen apothecary would prove Colmar wrong, but I had given Daltia a chance for redemption. It would have been hypocritical to deny it to another because I disliked her personally.

“Your mercy honors you, my husband,” Therese complimented Roland. “Showing a few felons mercy will help us reassure the dissenters in Walbourg that we won’t betray our covenant.”

Roland stifled a laugh. “You never miss an occasion to find a political angle, do you?”

“Only because my lord’s gentleness made it possible,” Therese replied diplomatically.

She was more right than she thought. The Roland I’d met for the first time would rather have died than offer a second chance to the likes of Florence. The vengeful prince was slowly maturing into a wise king worthy of respect.

Therese excused herself under the pretense of preparing Florence’s transfer. I knew it was mostly a polite way to leave Roland and me alone. The new queen always possessed a keen sense when it came to understanding others’ motivations, and she could tell we Heroes had private matters to discuss.

“Do you trust Eris?” Roland asked me the moment his wife exited the office.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “Why the question?”

Roland looked into my eyes with utmost seriousness. “Do you know who she is?”

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes at Roland. “Do you?”

“I have my suspicions.” Roland shrugged his shoulders. “She took great risks fighting with us and I trust your word, Robin, so I will defer to your judgment.”

So Roland knew the truth—his power must have helped him with it—but he would keep it to himself. Good. I didn’t think Eris was ready to come clean to everyone yet.

“Thank you. I’m sure Eris appreciates your trust too.” I smiled at him. “You have grown wise, Roland. You are the Knight who should have been.”

“Because you helped me rise when I stumbled, my friend.” Roland joined his hands together and studied my face. “You are going to hunt down the other Ancestors. I can see it in your eyes.”

He knew me well. “It was the first Merchant who granted them their immortality, and our battle with Belgoroth proved that I can strip it away. My successors and I may be the only people who can put them in the ground for good.”

“If they do not kill you first.” Roland’s jaw clenched in worry. “Do you require my help?”

I shook my head. “I doubt the plan we used last time will work twice. From what I heard, none of the other Demon Ancestors’ soulforged items count as weapons, but I’ll figure something out.”

“I trust you to do so.” Roland crossed his arms and pondered my words. “I should leave my kingdom in Therese’s care and follow you. You are likely to get yourself killed otherwise.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve hired Soraseo on as a bodyguard,” I quipped before quickly regaining my composure. “Archfrost needs a king as much as it needs a Knight. Belgoroth has carved out a path through the mountains and Stonegarde is a smoking ruin. The border between your kingdom and the northern lands can no longer be closed, Roland. You know what this means.”

“My subjects will have to find a way to coexist with the beastmen, simply because we have no other choice anymore,” Roland replied with a sharp nod. “If we made peace with Walbourg, I am certain that we can achieve it with the beastmen given time.”

“Not all wars are waged with swords on burning battlefields,” I said. “Your new battles will be fought with words and in the hearts of men.”

“It is a war I promise not to lose, Robin, though I would have an easier time winning it with you at my side.” Roland sighed. “Where will I find a prime minister of your caliber?”

“Find a person you trust, and I will sell him the required skills,” I joked back. “With a friend’s discount.”

Roland laughed heartily. “You are more than a friend, Robin; you were the best.” He took my hand into his own, using the one made of flesh this time. His fingers felt warm against mine. “I would tell you goodbye, but I know we will meet again one day.”

“I hope so too.” The sooner the better. “Take care, Roland.”

I had made a friend for life.

We discreetly left Snowdrift at dawn.

Marika had expanded the airship prototype by merging it with parts from the shipyard. The result wasn’t as large as the Vernisla, but it nearly rivaled a caravel in size. We hadn’t given the ship a name yet, although I had the feeling we would come up with one by the time our journey north concluded.

Selestine had fulfilled her promise for good winds. A powerful breeze pushed our airship north towards the snowy mountains and the icelands beyond. With luck, we should reach the Deadgate within a few days’ time.

I disliked farewells of any sort. Those always left a bittersweet feeling. When I watched my hometown shrink away from the skies above, I found myself overwhelmed by a deep sense of melancholy. If my life was a book, then I was doing more than turning the page. I was writing a volume’s final words.

I found Snowdrift a dying port crumbling under the weight of its decay and corruption. I’d left it as a thriving city bustling with life. My parents would have been proud. I first came here to disperse their ashes, and I hoped that they would bless this land with luck for many years to come.

Therese was right. Snowdrift’s people no longer needed my help or Alaire’s leadership to prosper. We had given them the tools to seize their own future and they would live up to the occasion.

Was this how wandering knights felt once they departed the village they had saved? A strange sense of accomplishment in the fact that they had become unneeded?

I had the feeling that I wouldn’t return to my homeland for a while, if at all. Perhaps I would try to visit it again in a few years and witness what fruits our labor yielded in our absence. For now, the horizon was my frontier.

The City of Wrath awaited us.

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