TheDudeFromCI

  I updated Julia's dialogue to better answer Rythica's questions instead of giving non-answers. I also made Julia feel less rushed and take a bit more time to teach Rythica, and added a reason for her to be seemingly oblivious Rythica's increasing displeasure. She has a growing over-reliance on magic. When that's gone, she didn't realize how much she had grown to lean on it for determining Rythica's mental state. She notices Rythica's annoyance, but doesn't consider the full extent of it or why.

  I updated Rythica's dialogue to show why she reacted the way she seemed to have such a short fuse; she feels her st bit of normalcy is being taken from her as she is thrown even deeper into her new noble lifestyle.

  [colpse]

  Redstillita shone brightly in Luan’s sight as he approached the extravagant building. Even after seeing it on so many multitudes of occasions, the sight never failed to impress. He felt himself slow as he took in the familiar establishment.

  So many affluent merchants and noble families funted their vast wealth through the purchase of the most expensive goods they could get their hands on, showcasing based on price rather than appearance. Yet, Redstillita was one location that understood there was a certain art to dispying such opulence. It was a refreshing change to the usual parade of mismatched golden monuments that adorned most estates.

  Redstillita was a beautiful eatery that knew its worth and spared no expense in prociming its luxury for all to see. Even in the early night air, the dwelling was well-lit with stunning, vivid colors from lights shining through tinted gss. Enchanted braziers and torches burned in a multitude of hues that drew the eye in a mesmerizing dispy. Carvings of weaving, endless, abstract designs textured the elegant walls, sculpted by master stone masons, seemed to come alive and dance in the flickering shadows of the firelight. Soft music drifted through the surroundings as a young bard strummed a harp, while another blew into a unique style of flute, accompanying the tune in a pleasant melody.

  Luan was no stranger to this establishment, although the fallen noble still felt a bit of trepidation as he ascended the engraved stairs up to the entrance. It had been years since he could st afford such indulgences. These days, even a single meal in such an establishment meant months of saving every coin he could.

  As Luan stepped up to the door, a servant standing nearby gave him a polite greeting before opening the door, though the greeter looked askance at his far humbler attire. Out of habit, Luan immediately made to scold the peasant for looking down on him in such a way, but he caught himself at the st second, recalling who he now was. He opted to remain silent and enter without acknowledging the doorman’s presence.

  Inside, another servant stood behind a tall desk with an award-winning customer service smile.

  “Welcome to Redstillita. Do you have a reservation?”

  Luan internally winced as he recalled all the efforts it had taken for him to make a reservation at such an establishment, given his current background. Sending forth a servant to set up a table was a common procedure, of course. But when it became apparent the reservation was for himself, a filthy commoner with aspirations of dining alongside people of significance, well, that was a different story. Even after paying in advance, he suspected the only reason he was even allowed to follow through with his request was due to the individual who would be joining him. At least there would be one person present who could be trusted to dine with proper etiquette, or so the old clerk’s expression had said.

  “Yes, table for two under the name Luan Warrenus.”

  With the poise of a confident nobleman, he pulled out a small paper, a wax stamp of authenticity at the bottom, and passed it to the woman.

  The finely-dressed receptionist raised a brow as she saw his surname, the colpse of the once-noble House still well-known in such circles. Almost instantly, her amiable demeanor slipped slightly as she realized he was a mere commoner, and not the noble he was attempting to parade himself as. The smile still graced her face, but the hint of judgment in her eyes was undeniable.

  “Yes, your table is ready, sir. Please follow me.”

  She led him down a richly decorated corridor, although instead of traveling down the usual turns, she led him out into the rge common room, a room he was only vaguely familiar with. Luan had always preferred to eat in a quieter environment, so the additional expense of a private booth was an easy choice. Unfortunately, such things were no longer within his budget.

  The room was still beyond extravagant, of course, but the presence of so many others, even if the vast majority of them were the familiar css of nobles and successful merchants, left a poor taste in his mouth. The carefully cultivated atmosphere was already unsalvageable in his eyes.

  Polite conversation and artificial chuckles echoed out through the room as the wealthy customers dined, fine wine gsses clinked, and waiters served ptter after ptter of food that was more presentation than actual substance.

  Even with the insults he had been forced to endure that night, he still felt his tense muscles rex as he entered a familiar environment for the first time in far too long. Finally, a crowd that treated their station with the respect it deserved.

  The receptionist led him up to a small, circur table near the center of the room and pulled out a chair. Luan sat in the comfortable seat and waited as the woman pced a menu, finely gilded with gold and silver embroidery, before him.

  “Would you like a few minutes to decide on your meal, or do you have a particur dish in mind, sir?”

  “I’ll defer my decision for the time being. Thank you, miss. I’ll order after my associate arrives.”

  “As you wish.”

  She bowed and swept off, her expensive silken dress twirling behind her with the practiced motion, but he paid it no mind as he settled in to wait, his fingers steepled on the table.

  He didn’t hold his breath as he waited for his companion to arrive. He knew they would be te. They always were. It was a statement, a power py, just like anything else. Nonetheless, he rather preferred the dey. He didn’t care for their familiar company. He hadn’t cared for a long, long while. He tapped his foot impatiently as time dragged on. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, as it seemed his associate opted to make a point this time around. He sighed.

  In an attempt to distract himself more than anything else, he withdrew a small parchment from his pocket and unfolded it before scanning its contents for the dozenth time in the past days.

  To all other observers, the page would appear to contain a recipe for some offshore dish, along with a lengthy, unnecessary anecdote about the chef’s personal life. But with a wiff of magic, he activated one of his skills, [Decipher Correspondence]. The words seemed to unscramble into a block of text within his mind.

  To our Esteemed Associate,

  Your recent insight into the inner workings of our competitors has proven enlightening in many ways. Your information has been validated, and the efficiency of your work has greatly exceeded that of our other informants. However, due to the recent shifts in the political ndscape, we believe that exclusivity would benefit us far more. We are no longer interested in the scraps shared by every rat within their walls.

  Our family now extends an offer of sole patronage for the information you can provide us. Should you agree to continue your services to us alone, your compensation shall reflect the loyalty we expect in return.

  Secondly, it has become clear to us that idle rumor is no longer sufficient to maintain the status quo. Your employers have managed an improbable fiscal ascent amid a tax climate that has gutted stronger Houses. We require more than mere whispers.

  Should you find this offer suits you ill, we must regretfully consider sourcing our information elsewhere. Please inform us of your decision at your earliest opportunity.

  Sincerely,

  An Interested Party

  The message did not bear the sigil of House Lintmark, of course, nor any incriminating names, but the authenticity of the correspondence was without question.

  The implications of the new offer were fairly obvious. They expected him to sneak around like a common thug, rifling through desks and cabinets, noting down every ledger and contract he could get his hands on and more, particurly on what had changed these st months. From the renovations and expanded boratories to the recent staff rotations, from Randell’s sudden reclusive habits… to his newly adopted daughter. All changes that he certainly had his own opinions on.

  His eye twitched at the reminder of the pathetic House that seemed to prevail in the storm better than any proper family. He wasn’t sure what game Era was pying, but he found he didn’t particurly care for it. Though given the rapid traffic of communication between the House and certain branches of the Travelers’ Guild, as well as connections within their sponsor House, he could make some guesses.

  Still, Luan was hesitant to accept the offer immediately. He didn’t feel bad for his actions. It was expected for nobles to treat each member of their staff as a potential spy. Loyalty was bought, and unless one could outbid their competitors, they had no allies. Selling common gossip or copying down notes left out in the open was nothing special.

  However, snooping around at night to sift through accounting books was repugnant to his noble sensibilities. The fallen noble considered himself the type of man to never get his own hands dirty; he paid others for that. Now that he was the one being paid off, he found himself conflicted. He clearly didn’t have the skillset to perform such reconnaissance, and he knew House Lintmark had already written him off as a disposable piece. If he got caught, it would be his head rotting in a cell, not theirs.

  On the other hand, it was a sizable bounty, retive to what he earned as a butler for a weak, minor House. He also suspected that outright denying their “offer” would result in him mysteriously disappearing in the night. Better to silence him than to risk him selling information to potential competition.

  With a grimace, he postponed deciding on a course of action for the time being. He folded the note back up and slid it back into his pocket.

  House Lintmark wasn’t a rge House, barely a generation old. They had little political weight and an almost non-existent reputation. Luan had been attempting to establish connections with various noble Houses for some time, slowly working his way back into relevance, and Sinfreed had given him the excuse he’d been looking for. But surely there had to be better options than Lintmark, right?

  Unfortunately, he had few options. He didn’t fancy pissing off a noble House who would have no problem snuffing him out. With his implied deadline quickly approaching, this meeting was a st-ditch effort to secure a backer who could keep his head attached, while he pursued more patable alternatives, even if it boiled his blood to interact with such company.

  Time continued to drag on as he waited. A waitress stopped by his table several times to check whether or not he was ready to order, but he declined, aside from requesting a gss of water while he waited. He sipped it impatiently, mostly to give his hands something to do. Finally, nearly an hour after he was seated, he saw another member of the staff leading his companion into the busy dining area.

  The fallen noble lowered his hands from the table and straightened the nonexistent wrinkles in his immacutely-tailored suit. He folded his hands in his p and raised his chin to a height appropriate to his status.

  A moment ter, the chair across from him was pulled out, and a face he had hoped to never see again took her seat, not appearing to even notice his presence as she accepted a menu from the servant with a polite acknowledgment, her head inclining ever so slightly.

  To his chagrin, Sarah was just as stunning as the day he had met her all over half a decade prior. The years graced her features with a light touch, giving the noble a refined air that seemed to command respect. Luan studied her familiar crimson curls, still vibrant and full of life. He gazed into her eyes that sparkled with ethereal grace, and rosy lips that spoke a siren song capable of entrancing any soul within a thousand leagues. Jewels and other finery seemed to adorn every part of her body with blinding brilliance, while ptinum and sapphire filigree highlighted the spider-silk gown she wore.

  He knew it was a trap; her looks were a resource she cultivated like a fine dagger. He chided himself for his brief pse in judgment. He shook away the feelings. Letting himself be entranced only had a single outcome in these negotiations.

  Yet, despite her familiar features, the warmth in her expression had long since faded. She did not return his gaze as she scanned the menu before her. Like him, Sarah was born and raised a noble. She understood well the art of subtlety. He was a commoner, and she was a noble. It was not his pce to demand her attention, even should she deign to offer it. Her message might as well have been a procmation from the rooftops with how btant her stance was.

  After a few moments, the elegant woman settled on one of her usual dishes before passing the menu back to the waitress.

  “I’ll have the Orange-drizzled Crococaar fish, and Garlippberry wine.”

  The woman accepted the menu back with a bow. “Of course, ma’am. Your meal shall arrive shortly.” She turned to face Luan with an expectant look.

  “I’ll have the same,” he said, passing his menu over as well.

  The fish was not his favorite meal, but he opted for a polite offering of neutrality with the gesture. He met Sarah’s eye as he ordered, an unspoken understanding of the power bance, and a willingness to respect it. Was it a bit much? Perhaps, but the two of them had always bonded over such nuanced communication in the past. It was a game of sorts. He was long since over such frivolity, but a small throwback felt appropriate. He caught the minuscule quirk on the corner of her lips before she could stop it. A decration of defeat, his request granted.

  The peasant serving them bowed and offered a confirmation he didn’t bother listening to. His attention was focused entirely on the woman he had once loved so dearly; the woman he now despised. The silence stretched on between them as the two opponents studied each other before Luan spoke up.

  “You seem to be doing well for yourself.”

  She cocked her head with cold amusement. “Is that unusual?”

  He smirked. “In some ways more than others.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the childish jab. “I suppose that’s true. The duties of a noble are never easy, though I don’t expect a commoner to understand.”

  The hush resumed as the two estranged partners gred at the person before them. Old memories resurfaced, and long-buried sparks of anger flickered to the surface for the briefest instant. It was only when their drinks arrived that the spell was broken once more.

  Sarah took the crystal-cut gss and sipped it daintily. “You called me here, Warrenus. Why?”

  She addressed him without an honorific, a blunt decration of his lower status and disregard for all respect, while her curt tone simirly reinforced the power bance. It seemed she was just as thrilled about this meeting as he was. He felt some mild amusement at that.

  The lowly butler picked up his own gss of wine, taking a brief moment to admire the rich, purple color of the beverage before taking a sip. The taste of fresh garlippberries brought back memories of so many nights like these from their past. He savored the bittersweet fvors of both.

  “Is it wrong for a man to desire to see the woman he once loved?” His words were den with heavy sarcasm.

  “Is it right for a commoner to see himself equal to a noble?”

  Sarah’s expression remained neutral, but the hint of amusement in her tone bled through, despite the subtle jab at his fall from grace. The jewelry hanging from her ears glittered in the light of the candles on their table as she shifted to a more rexed poise. They had moved into familiar territory.

  “Perhaps not.” He clenched his fists under the table. “But then again, neither of us deserves to hold our respective status.”

  Their marriage half a decade prior has been a political alliance between their Houses, as was the case for many such tales. House Warrenus and House Lileenrin were both smaller families at the time, and the connection between them had seen both Houses prosper.

  But when finances became tight and investments fell through, the alliance evaporated like an early morning mist. When they smelled blood in the water, the steadfast ally turned opportunistic scavenger. Luan’s House fell, and Sarah’s family walked away better than when they started. Better for one House to fall than to drag both down.

  Mere days before their title was lost, Sarah signed away their marriage, falling back to her old estate and escaping the fallout, once more an eligible bachelorette, ready to prey on her next target.

  If only he had been faster at the draw, the roles might have been reversed.

  This was politics; who was at fault didn’t matter, only who profited from it. Personal feelings were irrelevant, and principles were non-existent. She had fulfilled her duty and elevated her family, as was expected of a noble. Better than he.

  Luan continued. “Regardless of our past history, I am here on business, as I’m sure you’re aware. A trade of information.”

  It was a breach of etiquette for him to approach her in such a way, but he didn’t particurly care. A part of him was gd he couldn’t afford a private room, even if their current surroundings left much to be desired. Her family would do well to have some ill rumors spread around.

  She gestured at the table before them, before raising the gss to her lips once more. “If you can afford such an outing, I will allow you to do as you wish. But do not misinterpret this small kindness as an excuse for your previous failures. One who could burn their family name so soon after becoming its head is not one to be easily trusted with anything more than casual dining.” She pointedly gnced around the hall. “Even if your taste is still as refined as it was when your name had weight.”

  He felt an ember of fury at the accusation that the House’s fall was in any way his fault. He’d sooner believe sabotage or a cruel twist of fate than even consider the possibility of his incompetence, as if he didn’t spend countless sleepless nights agonizing over every little detail. He worked hard; did he not deserve to have his efforts rewarded?

  He ensured perfection from those below him. Anyone who couldn’t make the cut was tossed into the streets. Anything less than exempry performance was unacceptable, and he worked ceaselessly to maintain that measure. He had done everything correctly from the day he made his first decree.

  Instead, Luan suppressed those thoughts, back into a box in the corner. He felt those old, cold-burning promises of vengeance and retribution against the world for causing such needless suffering against him. He knew her comments were more than an idle jab. She believed them wholeheartedly.

  His eyes darkened at her comments, though she met his gaze without flinching. Her face grew cold and apathetic. The two stared at each other for a moment before they slipped their polite masks back on and acted as if nothing had happened.

  “The weight of my name has no bearing on my standards of taste.”

  There was a lull in the conversation as it became clear he refused to rise to her bait, neither acknowledging nor refuting his fault in the past. After a short pause, she seemed to accept his stance, opting to shift the conversation towards a more neutral topic.

  “Hmm, perhaps.” She swirled the liquid in her gss. “I must say, it’s nice to entertain such extravagance from time to time.” She raised her brow as she made to drink. “Such events seem to be a fleeting luxury, given House Gradaway’s recent taxation policies. Few Houses are faring well, and their servants far worse. Although I suppose those of the Sinfreed House have less to fear. I must admit, I find myself curious regarding the recent surge of ambition within the household. Some would be inclined to believe that the head of the house has found a sudden new outlook on things.” She pulled the gss away with an artificial sigh. “I envy those with friends in such high pces.”

  “So I’ve heard. I have been keeping informed of current events where I can, but my information network isn’t what it used to be. I’m afraid the wider political ndscape eludes me.”

  She studied him for a moment as the terms of the initial trade were id out, a test of sorts to see if a longer-term partnership was practical. She was less than amused at the power py, but Luan held firm. Sarah was a convenient information broker, but she was far from the only one. On the other hand, few other rats have worked within the Sinfreed estate long enough to truly dig up anything of value.

  “The situation within House Gradaway is far more severe than the citizenry is led to believe, and House Vultez is in shambles. Businesses, small and rge alike, are being liquidated by the dozens as investors prey upon them like starving vultures. Houses are turning on each other like rabid animals as more and more families risk relegation by the day.”

  “Has the situation outside the walls truly become so desperate?“

  ”More than you know. Workers are scared. People would rather sleep in the underpasses than risk working outside the walls unless they’re accompanied by a battalion of armed escorts. The Travelers’ Guild is assigning missions as quickly as they can, but House Montenwell has been gorging itself on their investments after all the demand caused by the portvale. It’s so lopsided, it may as well be a full monopoly. It wasn’t so bad a few years ago, but these days,” she gave him a look, as if to underline the severity. “No one leaves the gates without Montenwell’s approval.”

  Luan wasn’t surprised by that. He expected it, even. “I imagine House Summerdall couldn’t be happier.”

  Sarah let out a huff of ughter. “They couldn’t be more pleased with current events. Between them and House Montenwell, they haven’t been in a better economic position in centuries. Some might even say they’re growing arrogant from their hasty windfall, though not without good cause. Even House Saintsmark is moving heavy assets in their direction. They see the writing on the wall and are picking sides early.”

  “I expected no less from them.”

  Sarah lowered her voice. “If their goal was to destabilize the power bance within the city, they’ve made great strides toward that end.”

  They both grimaced at that. Saltbrook was no stranger to war between noble Houses. Even with the city lord stepping in to keep the peace, disputes between minor Houses always meant colteral damage. A civil war between the major Houses was never a pretty sight.

  Luan mimicked her hushed tone. “That sounds like quite a few steps of escation.”

  “We’re not anywhere near that point, thankfully. But with the way things are headed, it may only be a few more years until we start seeing skirmishes.”

  That still wasn’t great to hear.

  Their hushed conversation was interrupted by the return of the waitress, carrying two rge ptes of steaming fish. The ptes were wordlessly pced down in front of the diners before she offered them a polite bow.

  “Is there anything else I may help you with?”

  “No, thank you,” Luan said, politely shooing the servant away.

  When they were alone once more, as alone as they could be in the public room, there was a brief lull in the conversation as the two descended into their meals.

  “How is the city lord reacting?”

  Sarah merely raised a brow, not bothering to answer such an obvious question.

  That was fair. Of course, the city lord would side with Gradaway and Vultez. The man was always itching for an excuse to stretch his legs. A full-on mobilization against the portvale was something he’d been advocating for since day one.

  Though without a formal decration of war, there was little he could do other than pull strings from a distance. That wasn’t to say he was powerless; he was the primary w enforcement within the city, after all. But there were still checks and bances in pce.

  The city lord kept his cards close to his chest, so few knew how much influence he truly had over the city. He couldn’t march a fighting force against the portvale without a majority vote, and there were still too many Houses remaining neutral to sway the odds in his favor.

  But if push came to shove, wasn’t a civil war also a valid decration of military intent?

  Luan made another cut into the fish, taking a small bite of the savory delicacy. The meat was tender and fky, melting in his mouth with an explosion of fvor. The sour orange drizzle accentuated the fish perfectly, leaving a lingering taste on his tongue that demanded another bite.

  “I suppose we shall have to see which direction he decides to nudge things.”

  “Regardless of the outcome, House Lileenrin already has pns in pce. I hope your employers do as well.” She tilted her head with obvious expectation.

  Sarah took another bite of fish, gently dabbing at her chin with a napkin. Her eyes showed obvious pleasure from the expensive dinner, though she tried her best to keep her stoic mask in pce, only the barest hints slipping through; still a pathetic slip-up for one of her station.

  “Perhaps,” Luan answered noncommittally, his displeasure at the flippant excuse for a noble House momentarily leaking into his tone.

  How had this traitorous snake managed to win one over on him all those years past? For that matter, how about the other newblood Houses she managed to siphon away by batting her eyes?

  He still slipped a small document out of his pocket, pcing it on the table between them.

  Sarah accepted the paper and briefly scanned over the notes he had meticulously taken over the past weeks. Without further comment, she folded the document back up and slid it into her purse. It didn’t detail anything too significant. He couldn’t deal his hand too early, but it was enough to get her hooked.

  Or so had had thought.

  “It seems I’ve wasted my time here.”

  The spy’s eyes snapped to her, his carefully crafted demeanor briefly cracking. “What?”

  “Your information network is indeed no longer what it used to be. I had entertained this meeting out of curiosity more than anything else, but if these scraps are all you can offer, then you have fallen further than I had ever imagined. Biased ponderings of staff rotations, vague descriptions of general renovations and boratories; you've fallen so far that these petty scraps of information you cling to are bested by mere day borers we had already inserted into their crews. Uneducated commoners, yet they have more to offer than you. I am almost insulted that you believed you had anything of value to offer.”

  She gnced down at her rgely untouched meal before gncing back up to meet the lowly butler’s gaze, something clicking into pce.

  “No, this is an act of desperation, isn’t it?” She smirked. “I’m not the only one you’ve attempted to sell information to. And now, you’ve come crawling to me for protection.” She shook her head with a pitying expression.

  Luan froze in pce, caught. He remained silent as she puzzled out the situation.

  All of a sudden, hesitation twisted into a familiar rage as the woman belittled him. The dam within him cracked, and his unbottled emotions began to pour out. His fists clenched into tight balls on the table, the metal utensils in his hand warping as his heart began to race with unbridled fury.

  How dare she? How dare she?

  Who was she to think so little of him? He was the victim! This whole world had discarded him, wrongly thrown him to the side. It wasn’t his fault. This was the fault of the world itself for forcing him into such a corner. The same disgusting, unfair reality that tore away what was his all those years ago. The fault of the worthless servants who failed to work hard enough to keep his House afloat. It was the fault of the businesses he invested in for failing to turn a profit. The zy borers who refused to pull their weight, or got themselves imprisoned for petty crimes, and failed to attend their shifts. A floor didn’t mop itself, and a corrupt storefront didn’t make sales.

  Damn Gradaway for their uncompromising tax policies. Damn Saintsmark for buying out his most successful investments before he turned a profit. Damn Sinfreed for hiring the same inhuman creatures that failed to scrape up the coin he invested in them, like they were somehow equal to him.

  Damn them. Damn each and every one of them. He was a good man! Why did fate treat him so unfairly?

  Sarah stood and gave him a dismissive look. “I should have known it was a folly to expect anything from a mere peasant.” She turned and walked away, leaving her meal unfinished.

  Luan remained sitting there, stunned, furious, hurt, and a mixture of a dozen other emotions that churned and roiled in his mind. Their conversation had not been loud or disruptive, but the perceptive crowd had no trouble picking up on the drama unfolding a few tables over. Sarah’s abrupt exit was practically a beacon shining down upon Luan. An act of pettiness, nothing more.

  A mere peasant, huh? Well, if he was going to be dragged into yet another corner, he had no intention of going down without a fight. The man remained motionless in his seat as it took everything in his power not to scream. Slowly, he pced his utensils back on the table, wiped his face with a napkin, and stood.

  Without waiting a moment longer, the fallen noble stormed out of the building as quickly as polite society would allow, before hitting the streets at a brisk pace. His fists clenched and unclenched, his breath more snarl than exhation.

  He slid his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders as he ascended a nearby staircase onto an overpass. He paused when his hands touched paper. His eyes widened as something struck him, and he wiped the paper out of his pocket, forgetting decorum in his haste. He used his skill to decipher the message and scanned over its contents once more.

  House Lintmark was a small House, barely a generation old. They had fresh ambitions, but few resources and few connections. How they were still afloat after Gradaway’s ruthless purge was already a testament to their tenacity.

  But they were clearly desperate. Their reputation was less valuable to them than it was to more established families. They needed to survive, and that meant getting an edge on their competitors. Adopting a fallen noble into their House might smudge their almost non-existent name, but they would get the information they needed and more. And most importantly, his title would be reestablished. How much greater would they be if they consumed the assets of a certain declining House of researchers?

  Once he had his rightful title back, then he’d shove Sarah’s words back into her mouth. She may have power over a commoner, but what about when he could fight back?

  He would make her regret it. He would make her regret every word, every trap, every subtle jab. He would make her regret taking his House and destroying his family name. For the first time in years, the cold wrath that burned deep in his veins grew hot once more. He was done being pushed around. It was his turn to topple Houses and take what he was owed.

  Hours ter, as Luan sat alone in his room, he began to draft his reply.

  TheDudeFromCI