Oh no.

  Fiona had had a few moments before, when she knew bad news of an epic level had dropped, and this was easily one of the top two. Harrier looked pleased with himself, and Doug looked like he was about to tear a hole in his oversized belly and pilot him like a grotesque flesh mech.

  “Harrier, I must remind you, we have a different culture up north,” Barry interjected, sensing something was up–even this dweeb with the askew crown had moral standards that didn’t quite reach rock bottom. “I would ask you politely that we refrain from bringing up contentious issues of the past. You know my father’s stance on this kingdom’s previous conduct. I am hoping that the interim time has been spent on a process of enlightenment, yes?”

  Harrier’s smile faded, and he took his eyes off Doug for just a second, claws indented deep into the scales on his palms. “I recall. It was twenty years ago, King Barrimeth. Times have changed. Our methods and our laws are not the same as they were.”

  “I would expect as much. If I saw that Vale was the same as it was then when I was but a small child, I would not be here, pushing for a thawing in relations,” Barry continued. Fiona wanted to strangle him–where was that kingliness beforehand, when he put her literal life on the line?! Barry continued before she could get to bitch-slapping him in earnest. “It’s late in the day, and I believe we need to refresh before we begin tomorrow. Shall you lead the way to the merchant guild?”

  “Ah, yes. Your advanced team is already set up in there,” Harrier replied, the joy now taken out of his voice. It was almost…surly now. He didn't like being called out for what Vale was, when the fancy names weren’t hiding the truth. “I am surprised you don’t use teleportation in the morning.”

  “The teleports are busy, and the guilds are reluctant to hold up the schedule,” Barry explained. Fiona knew that was a crap answer, he was only here by necessity. “Well, shall we?”

  Harrier's face brightened, and he motioned to the escort guards. Barry’s men also strayed close, eyes on their weapons, and Fiona knew at least two of them were battle mages, well-rehearsed in protecting Barry with an array of magic, and the rest of the detachment. “Right this way. The guild is on the far side of the city. Poor planning by my predecessors, but it should give a nice tour of Salipor, the capital.”

  “Yes, a tour.” Doug’s voice had that deep, primal roll of a dragon, and didn’t fit the frame of his kobold form. “I’m so eager for a tour.”

  This is bad. This is so bad, Wingding. Like, I thought a death curse on my head was bad? No, this somehow rates even worse. She more than subtly brushed past him and gave him a gentle shake of her head, ears tilted in the plainest way she could say ‘don’t do it’ to him.

  Harrier led them outdoors to an awaiting steam automaton, and three others– the magical technology was catching on quickly, and she was surprised that such luxury was available in Vale. She quickly scanned her surroundings, taking in the sights and the feel of the air. It was warmer than Fiefdala, with the sun setting across a large expanse of green to the west. It was part of the Bar’dathi Plains, and gave way to scrubland, then a vast desert to the south and west, if she remembered her map. The trees consisted of fewer hardy evergreens and more seasonal trees–these still showing bright autumn colors.

  One guard assisted her into the automaton, where she and Douglas were alone. Barry went in the automaton just ahead of them, along with his guard, and Harrier went with them, both of them talking spiritedly. The driver up front had a barrier that he tapped.

  “This automaton is for diplomatic relations and inter-kingdom discussions. If you have private business, Fiefdala has verified with the advance team that your talks will not be shared or intruded upon,” the driver said, before Fiona projected an eager smile.

  “Why, thank you. We do have urgent matters to discuss,” she added, before clicking the barrier up, and putting up a privacy curtain that was hanging by a sash. As soon as it was closed, she whirled over to Douglas, her voice instantly panicking.

  “Why didn't you tell me your mother was murdered by these people?! Are you nuts?!” She hadn't panicked like this in a while, and this felt like a panic-worthy moment.

  “I knew enough,” he replied with a growl. “You know why Vale never attempted another incursion? It was the Bar’dathi that harassed them to incredible effect, despite the sheer number difference of their militaries…and me.”

  Her mouth gaped open. She had no response. “Barry and Rikkard didn’t say jack diddly about any of this! Those lying sacks of–”

  Doug put a hand up, showing surprising restraint. “Funny how people’s memories get fuzzy when friendly favors don’t get called out. Yeah, there’s a history. My mother was a dragoness who couldn’t stand what Vale was doing, in the years past. She made them bleed for it. She made them die for their utter disregard for the well-being of Folk lives. Most of Vale saw a tyrant dragon killing members of the slave houses, jilted by a bad deal. I saw her as a dutiful protector, freeing a pathway for slaves to escape. And, a few members of Fiefdala's military, who were more than happy to see dead slavers."

  Fiona peered at the little kobold with scorn, who returned the expression at her with an equally unapologetic glare. "Doug, when you told me your mother died, it was at the hands of dragon hunters, in violation of the kingdom treaties. You didn't tell me that she was killed while she was putting a bunch of slavers into the grave. You lied to me.”

  The kobold twitched at this assertion. "I didn't lie about this, it is what happened. She was indeed killed by dragon hunters--which, by themselves, earned them a warrant for death by every dragon on this continent. She also kept a personal oath, as a member of the Unified Kingdoms, to uphold justice. Slavers don't get any such rights when it comes to extra-judicial premature and well-deserved burial. Or, in her case, incineration. They may or may not have strayed into the Unified Kingdom’s territory, and she nullified the labor contracts as a follow-up. They are magical, by the way, and it's not easy to break or alter them. She found ways to break them."

  “But Doug, this is a big problem. Your presence here now, on the cusp of a huge revenge quest, throws a wrench in the works of those negotiations. Now I have to worry about what you’re going to do next! Did you know all this in advance?” She theorized he had a plan–just like with the paintings, though that had been favorable to them both.

  Doug shook his head. "No, I don't have all the details. Vale was not very forthcoming about details of what happened, hence, that is why my mother's estate court case was held up for so long. "

  "Doug, seriously? This is the kind of issue you should bring up with a--" her breath hitched as she almost reflexively said 'friend'. "Business partner," she corrected.

  Doug's ear crest flattened against the skull, and his tail twitched. "I still stand by my initial claim. I'm here to get gold out of the bank, and also find my brother. Also, to keep you from getting into more trouble than you can handle."

  Fiona felt a little offended by that one. But, at the same time, the problems presented here weren't ones she could readily smash with a hammer...yet. "All right Douglas, one thing you have to promise? You can't barbecue anybody for no reason whatsoever. We need to cinch this trade deal. Or, find other people who can supply Fiefdala with other means to acquire lots of money."

  He narrowed his eyes and his snout curled, but he eventually relented. "Fine. It's not like I know exactly who to point a claw at, so I have my work cut out for me. That said, when I find out who's responsible, they're dead where they stand."

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Fiona let out an inward side realizing how much trickier this trip just became. She didn't need more complications, and yet, they kept cropping up. Okay, Fiona, you'll solve this one just like you solve all the other problems: with time, and patience. I really should see who Greg consults for his meditation. I should ask myself, what would Greg do? I need to do that more often.

  The trip through the city was brief, and Fiona peered through the window to take in the sights on the main path. The buildings show a decent-sized level of competence. The buildings, shops, and homes all showed similar structures consisting primarily of tan brickwork, and structural pillars that reminded her a little bit of Greece, or maybe even Italy. At the same time, some of the architecture looked like gothic European, closer to the city center.

  Within a few minutes, the automaton had halted, and another uniformed soldier gently let them out and even bowed their head as she dismounted from the vehicle. Doug needed no assistance and preferred to hop down with a little flutter of his wings. Barry and his accompanying team were already heading into the large structure, easily three stories of steel stone and what she figured must be magical-based materials, given how finely hewn it was. The precision involved was considerable: the bricks formed perfectly straight lines. It almost looked like they were made of gold, if she didn't know better; there was no gold to be had in these bricks. They must work hard to keep up appearance, she thought with annoyance.

  They entered the foyer of the guild hall with little fanfare. It wasn't anything special: potted plants lined the halls, paintings were decorated artfully along the corridor, and a large reception desk was nearby. A middle-aged secretary busily writing onto an arcanist datapad and talking to a relay with her other hand.

  Several people were standing, well-dressed in business suits--but lighter than the ones she was accustomed to in Fiefdala, likely accounting for the warmer climate. One spoke up.

  "Greetings, citizens of Fiefdala! Welcome to the Merchants Guild Hall, where we will be catering to your needs for the duration of your stay. I've received word from the council members of the city that your every need will be attended to!”

  The fact that even Barry seemed dejected, was a worrying sign. He’d likely counted on getting catering, first-class treatment, maybe even settled up in a cozy ambassador quarters or even the royal district of Vale, where nobility was a dime a dozen. This felt…second rate.

  No. This was third-rate. This felt like the bad part of town, in a bad city. She swore she heard someone scream distantly outside.

  That wasn’t the only sign that set Fiona on edge when she glanced around and saw several nervous-looking servants. They looked rather thin, shaky, or otherwise had blank expressions on their faces. Her first gut instinct was that they were on labor contracts. And not the nice kind, either.

  Wingding, this is like, the total opposite of Fiefdala. The fires of revolution must burn down the overgrowth of evil, so we can get peace, love, and prosperity to take root, too! Wait, what am I saying?! I can barely run a shop, I can’t run a revolution! Sometimes, she realized, one thing she was severely lacking on Fiefdala, was a magical equivalent of Ritalin.

  Change for better.

  Fiona blinked and went wide-eyed, raising Doug’s curiosity. “What is going on in that head of yours, exactly?” he queried.

  “Nothing! Nothing at all! I'm totally not thinking how this place needs a storm of hammers, and a societal reboot!” she replied hastily, barely above a whisper.

  After several exchanges of pleasantries, Barry did his big speech; Fiona was getting annoyed with all this extra fluff being tossed on top of the negotiations. This must be what rulers did on a routine basis. Fluff, boasting, and spending excessive amounts of time talking about things that didn't matter. Then again, that didn't sound very dissimilar from Earth.

  After a few more moments of discussion of schedules, the dignitaries departed, and Barry and his staff went upstairs. One of the attendants, a blue feathered avian serving girl no more no older than her late teens, approached the two of them. She had a crown of bright teal and green feathers, and a short yellow beak.

  "Miss Swiftheart, correct? I was informed you would be attending the negotiations over the next few weeks, and may also be working on some mercantile efforts on the side. I was also told that to expect one attendee, not two.” She looked nervous as she said that, her large green eyes filled with worry.

  Fiona could feel her ears twitching, and a small trickle of dread going down her spine. If her rom-coms were any indication of what was about to happen, she and Doug would be at each other's throats by morning.

  “So, you have room for me, right?”

  “Yes we do, Miss Swiftheart. But, could I ask if we could quarter your servant–"

  Doug bristled at this, his wings flapping agitatedly. "I am no servant! I am my own person, thank you very much!”

  Fiona let out a sigh. “Doug, it's fine, we'll find you a room.”

  The servant girl smiled faintly. "Your quarters have two guest rooms. We did anticipate this, if you would have attendants with you.”

  Fiona let out a frustrated sigh. “Are there any other choices here? Can he rent a room or are there other quarters?”

  “No, Miss Swiftheart. The quarters are magically warded for a level of visiting dignitaries and royalty–anywhere else would require vetting of the establishment, additional guards, and magical protections. Moving royalty and diplomats is no picnic!” the woman said, wringing her hands anxiously.

  Fiona knew this woman was doing her best, and hopefully wasn’t having her labor contract adjusted based on the ‘satisfaction’ of her guests. With that thought in mind, she relaxed her posture and took a measured breath. “Doug, are you okay with this arrangement?”

  He didn't move his head, but she could see his tail twitching; this was a violation of every bit of neutrality between the two of them. In the end, he gave a soft dip of his snout, while gesturing towards the door. "It should be suitable accommodation,” he added while clenching his teeth. “Please lead the way, miss…”

  “Lani,” she answered with a polite smile and gave the gentlest of hand motions to follow. Fiona and Doug climbed the wooden stairwell, and came up to a row of rooms–Barry’s guards were already setting up shop, and several quarters were already occupied. There were complaints about the accommodations, and the fact that the current King Harold wasn’t present, and would meet them in the morning–it sounded like a massive breach of etiquette.

  Doug reached up to open the door, and had to hop a little bit–the room must have been sized for a giant, and Fiona offered to open the door knob after two hops weren’t enough. He gave a dragon glare of death at the doorway, but not at her, as she opened it. She stared at the room, with Lani smiling cheerily. This might be four-star accommodations for her, but…

  “Doug, I’ve…” she trailed off, trying not to say something utterly crushing to the poor girl. I’ve slept in dungeons cozier than this. Doug’s mouth gaped open a little, eyes dazzled with disbelief.

  “This is…acceptable,” he forced himself to say. The room was bare hardwood floor, the furniture was as basic as they came, and was brown, threadbare, and poorly aged. The table had a few knife marks and what she thought might be old blood. A bathroom over on the right was okay, but she saw a problem.

  “There’s one bed.”

  Lani looked unbothered by this. “Well, that should be fine! You seemed to be well accustomed to each other, and here in Vale, it’s common for business partners to split costs, share a bed, and…” she was speaking, but Fiona wasn’t hearing words. She felt her breath hitch. This horror show was just getting started, and it was still day one.

  I am not sleeping in the same damn bed as Doug. Judging by the way he eyed the couch with disdain, he was likely having the same conclusion go through his mind.

  “When’s breakfast?” Fiona asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Breakfast? Oh, you’ll have a meeting with guild counsel in the morning, bright and early!” Lani beamed while clapping her hands together. “If you need anything, please give the attendant bell a ring, it should trigger my arcane relay."

  “Okay, great! Here Lani, here’s for your services,” she added hastily and put a ten gold coin in her hand. She gasped at this generosity but pushed the coin back into Fiona’s hand. “Uh, Lani, this is for you–”

  “No, I can’t take this,” she said with an anxious laugh. She lowered her tone, her face inches from Fiona’s. “If I’m caught with this, they’ll think I stole it,” she whispered, her face alight with fear.

  Fiona took the hint. “Okay. I’m setting it aside. I get that Vale is…different…but where I come from, people tip for extraordinary service,” she explained. “Lani, thank you, make sure you carry my praise to your employer, okay?”

  “I will, thank you!” The feathery girl left the room with a light latching of the door, and Fiona let out a groan that echoed through the room.

  “If you think you’re hating this, picture me,” Doug growled.

  “The second Barry lost power over me, I should have burned the place to the ground,” she admitted, glancing at the sleeping arrangements. “Couch or bed?”

  “The couch may have been the site of a prior murder,” Doug groused and recoiled when he sniffed the air. “Minus the ‘may’ part of that statement.”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose and hoped Barry’s accommodations were equally unfitting for royalty. “You know, in my culture, they would call this a ‘meet cute’ moment. This is more a recipe for an inter-kingdom incident I may trigger in a fit of rage,” she growled, before clenching her fists. “I need to take up Greg on offer to teach me some of that yoga stuff he does, to attain inner peace, and all that crap.”

  “Well, take it from me, Miss Swiftheart: this is still a marked improvement from our first meeting. I’m going to the lounge to find a drink stiff enough to intoxicate a kobold,” he added with a huff, before hopping up at the oversized door handle, but couldn't reach the privacy latch above him. “Um…little help, here?”

  She sighed and pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “This is going to be a long trip.”

  This merchant will likely burn the place down before the trip's over...

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