Varian Blackthorn arrived in Duskwatch flanked by a retinue of hardened warriors. Each one carried the air of a man who had seen a hundred battles and walked away grinning.

  The town’s militia stood stiffly at attention, unsure whether they were welcoming guests or preparing for a siege.

  Lucian, for his part, was slouched in his chair, fighting the urge to yawn as Varian strode into the town hall.

  The Mercenary King was an imposing figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with scars lining his arms like battle trophies. His dark cloak billowed as he stepped forward, his steel-gray eyes locking onto Lucian’s with an unreadable expression.

  "Lord Veilwood," Varian rumbled, his voice like rolling thunder. "I’ve heard much about you."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lucian offered a half-hearted wave. "Thanks. Want some tea?"

  Varian blinked.

  Dorian, sweating bullets, stepped in. "Our lord prefers to observe rather than assert his power. A master of strategy and restraint!"

  Varian nodded slowly. "Ah, a tactician who rules from the shadows. I respect that."

  Lucian blinked. "Wait, what?"

  Dorian coughed. "Shall we discuss business?"

  Varian smirked. "Let’s."

  The meeting quickly spiraled into madness.

  Lucian, who had no idea how to handle military negotiations, spent most of it nodding vaguely while Dorian desperately tried to interpret his laziness as brilliance.

  "Your decentralized command structure is unique," Varian mused. "No standing army, yet the people defend themselves."

  Lucian shrugged. "People like being alive, I guess."

  Dorian quickly translated. "What our lord means is that he fosters an environment where civilians are naturally inclined to self-preserve and reinforce one another, ensuring an adaptable defense force without rigid military oversight."

  Varian nodded. "A fascinating approach."

  Lucian rubbed his temples. "Sure. Let’s go with that."