Ruinous Return

Chapter 54

James led the small detachment and delegates out to the docks of Kor's Hold. The Free City of Bashinol had sent out a delegation to discuss trade agreements and exchange information. Normally, this would be handled by one of his advisors, but they were off in the various duchies trying to ensure allegiances would not change with the death of King Kristoph and James' rise to rule.

That, and he knew the delegate from the Free City. One of the first bits of lore that James had learned when he arrived on Ghomar, due to being summoned in Khrelardia, is that the Free City was a mercantile republic that always maintained neutrality with every kingdom. They had no particular national language and their navy was peerless on the ocean surrounding the supercontinent. With that fierce independence, they ensured their merchants were undisturbed, and due to their powerful control of trade, they managed the mints and banks – leading to a stable currency.

He arrived at the dock and walked up the gangplank, nodding slightly at the marines on board. They were dressed in studded leather armor, scimitars strapped to their waists, and crossbows on standby. The portly man that exited the captain's cabin chuckled and opened his arms, "James Marshall! Now King James if I hear correctly." The heavily tanned and jolly man laughed aloud. He spoke perfect Khrelardian.

James walked forward and embraced him. "Zebed, it's been too long!" He backed off and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the nearby table.

"Of course!" The man took a seat and snapped his fingers. A young man dressed in fine silk robes came forward with a platter of food, and another who looked to be his younger brother came up with a pitcher and poured two glasses of a chilled, white wine. "James, you remember my sons?"

James nodded, "I haven't forgotten my promise to have them meet my own boys." He turned and bowed to the two boys, "Thank you, Felej, for the wine. And thank you, Gerod, for the delicacies."

The two boys bowed and Zebed chuckled, "Well, I would ask you how you became a monarch, but I already learned that from the rumormongers around the docks." He picked up the wine and took a sip. "Let's cut straight to business, shall we? That way we can catch up as old friends."

James nodded and took a sip of the wine as well, "Happy to do so."

Zebed sat up to his full height, and his voice took on an official tone. "As the representative of the Free City of Bashinol, I have been given authority by the Bankers and Merchants to propose the same terms as before." He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "In summary, the same exact trade deal that has been in place for the past ten years."

James picked up the documents and sped through them. He had been told by a councilor what terms to look for, and he even pulled out the old set of trade agreements, scanning the two and comparing them side by side. "This looks satisfactory, except this one, new page." He pulled that last page out and set it down. "Ahem. In the event that Khrelardia goes to war with Valagonia, the Free City of Bashinol, its personnel, and trade networks will be suspended until the conclusion of the conflict."

"Yes. We know that Valagonia is on the brink of a revolt from some of Queen – forgive me, Princess Cecily's provinces. And that you do not have the full support of your own duchies secured fully. We want to ensure our interests come first – you understand."

James nodded, "Makes perfect sense." He pulled out the royal seal he had commissioned – a lion's head representing the prior dynasty, with a pair of crossed swords and a wreathed with a halo. Stamping and signing the two sets of documents, he handed one set back to Zebed.

"One more piece of business. I will be taking a set of shallow-hull vessels through the Azure Divide and to the edges of the Valley of the Volcano. This proclamation from what appears to be the Demonic Dragon has intrigued my superiors."

James gripped the chair arms to the point they began to splinter and crack. He struggled to keep his frustration from bleeding through to his voice. "You're going to consider a trade alliance?"

"Of course. If a new power is rising, then the Free City wants to get in early and establish our presence." He pulled out a small slip of paper and slid it over to James. "Read that."

James unfurled it. He's clever. He had prepared quarters for James to send his own delegate along with the expedition up the Azure Divide, to be escorted with a squad of five men: all disguised as his own cadre. "I'll have a group put together immediately."

"I will be here for the night," Zebed stated as he stood up. "Now that business is concluded, why don't we finally facilitate that meeting between your sons and mine."

James nodded and led the way to the palace with his troops escorting Zebed, his sons, and some of his guards. He's a good friend, giving me a means to send my own messenger. But James couldn't help feeling trepidation in his gut. If it is Lyn…she will be pissed that I took the credit for the kill. And if it's not…then we are all fucked.

Lyn woke up early. She hadn't taken anyone to bed with her, and she even skipped her usual morning bath. No time today. There's lots of work to do. She exited her chambers and dismissed her bodyguards for the day. They would not be able to travel with her. Stopping by the fletchers in Lynhold she acquired two full quivers of standard arrows. Nocking one, she pointed it at the top of the Eastern mountain-walls and let loose. Counting down until the impact, she muttered the spell to transpose her location with it.

She appeared on the top of the walls. We don't have the forces to man them, she thought. She had squads rotating patrols around the entire fortification, since they did not need patrols in the Valley anymore. But she really wanted to have several garrisons upon the walls – the buildings were there to support them. But logistics would be a whole different nightmare. Getting a gondola from each garrison to Lynhold would be a good priority. But to do that, she would need to force technological advancement.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

And she didn't have that level of learning. What she needed was Thomas or Trisha. Thomas knew this type of stuff by heart thanks to being the Knowledge hero, and Trisha was smart enough to figure out what would be needed herself. Lyn shook off the thoughts. No time for thinking. Time to act. She focused her vision, and thanks to the Farsight Eyedrops body enhancement, she was able to zoom towards the horizon line with her sight. She could barely make out the tips of the Slor Mountains. I can't make it in one shot. Well, unless I had a crystal arrow. But Volio wasted that.

She pulled back a mundane arrow, aimed at the perfect trajectory for distance, and let loose. She counted down, tapping her foot in time, and when the arrow impacted, she used the spell once more – teleporting to and swapping places with the shaft. She repeated this over and over again, and within an hour, had arrived at the foot of the Slor Mountains.

The Sloren were a hardy, peak-dwelling race. They raised rams, sheep, and goats. The closest Lyn could approximate them to was that they were like the Scots in the United Kingdom. A hardy folk. Misty had once compared them to the standard fantasy-dwarves, with their own language and all. Confusingly enough the language name was the same as the dwarven race name. She looked up the mountain and, zooming in her sight, spotted several buildings upon the heights. Raising the bow once more, she used the Spellblade core's ability to charge the arrow with mana, focusing on the wind elementalism to wrap the bolt in a sheath of air.

Letting it loose, a few moments passed, and she teleported to the heights of the mountains. A large group of sheep moved away at her sudden appearance, and she cast a fast shifting external spell to suppress her draconic features. "Hello?" She shouted out in Sloren.

No voice reached her ears. Strange, she thought. They left the flock without a shepherd? She pulled back the string on Cataclysm and willed an arrow of lava to appear. She closed her eyes and focused on her sense of hearing, trying to discern anything unusual. But the noise of the sheep bleating was drowning out all other noise.

A lance of grey-colored energy slammed into her and she went tumbling backward from the force of the blow. It didn't pierce her armor or her body hardening, but the spell she was struck with was simply a forceful shove of wind. Strong enough to knock her back and off the mountain edge.

Her fall was slowed by the Cloak of Safe Falling that was integrated into the armor, as it drew upon her mana to power the inscription in response to her sudden lack of footing. But she was still descending. Damnit. She let loose the lava arrow. I really hope this works, she thought. "Adhano na phain nin galu." She incanted the arrow-transposition spell as the lava arrow was high in the sky above.

To her dismay, she did not swap positions with the arrow made of mana. Well, that confirms it. I can only do it with physical arrows. She quickly drew, nocked, and fired a mundane arrow, using the spell once more as it crested high above the cliff edge. Warping to its location, she looked down and saw a Sloren who was looking over the edge, confused. "Hey!" Lyn shouted. The person looked up. "Don't shoot! I'm just here to talk!"

The person below incanted something once more, and another blast of wind came up at Lyn. She cut off the flow of mana to the Cloak and fell, dodging the spell as she loosed another shot right behind the heavily-wrapped Sloren. Swapping places with the arrow once more, she grabbed them around the neck and torso in a sleeper hold, "I just want to talk. No more spells!" she growled as her voice dropped to that of the Demonic Dragon.

The person went still, and she felt a warm liquid as they wet themselves. Disgusting. She pushed them away and they tumbled forward onto the ground before scrabbling backward. A look of fear was on the young man's face. "Please, dinnae hurt me!"

"I won't if you stop attacking me," Lyn replied. "I am Lady Rivers, the Destroyer. I seek an audience with your Thane."

"O-o 'course!" the man got to his feet and blushed mightily, "Forgive me, yer Ladyship. I pissed meh britches."

Lyn shook her head, "Gather up your herd, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble for leaving them behind."

She ascended the mountain alongside the shepherd, using her earth elementalism to use minor spells to corral the sheep on the path going up. The climb gradually became chillier. There was no snow or rime, but it was a cold, desolate place. She didn't feel it thanks to her body enhancements, but if she didn't have those, or the inscribed armor, she would have chattering teeth.

Within a few hours, they had reached a large, stone fortification with a wooden gate. The Sloren accompanying her – a youth named Himmel – yelled up to the gate watch. "I've got a right proper Lady here to see Thane Mol."

The voice that came back spoke in a very accented, Sloren brogue. "Weel, ye kin come in. Bit na funny business!"

The gates opened slowly. Himmel got the sheep inside the gates, and then turned to Lyn. "Ah hae tae git th' an aberdonian`s burd tae thair pen. Mynd comin' alang? ah will tak' ye tae th' Thane richt efter."

Lyn frowned, "I can barely understand you. Do you have anyone in your hold that does not have as strong of an accent?"

Himmel pointed up the mountain trail to a series of stout, stone buildings. "Up thare ye kin fin' th' building wi' th' tankard hingin fae th' sign. Th' bartender speaks lik' ye."

"Right. Tavern. Thanks." Lyn made her way up, and glanced back as two of the gate guards followed her at a cautious distance. She found the building Himmel had described easily enough, and entering the space found it to be dim, cozy, and reeking of beer. She took a deep breath of the heady scent. How long has it been since I've had a drink? She hadn't had any alcohol since re-summoning herself.

The place was empty – which made sense, it was mid-day, and most people drank after their day was done. She walked up to the bar and rapped her armored knuckles on the countertop. "Hello? Barkeep?"

An elderly Sloren with a large afro of white hair speckled with a few black strands and an equally curly beard came up from a cellar with a keg on his shoulder. "Eh? What do you want?"

"I am Lady Rivers, the Destroyer. You heard that voice issuing a proclamation not too long ago?" The man grunted as he put down the keg. "That was me. I want to speak with your Thane."

"Thane Mol?" The man chuckled and stood behind the bar, fetching a few mugs from under the countertop and filling them from the kegs. "You're talking to him. How'd you get so good at our language?"

Lyn smiled, "Sloren isn't too tricky once you get the basics." She took the offered mug and, following their customs, waited until the host took the first sip. He didn't, instead staring at her. He's testing my knowledge of their ways. She set the mug down, and he followed her lead.

She leaned over the bar, grabbed his shoulders, and slammed her head into the hardest part of his forehead.