Commerce Emperor
Chapter Ten: The Dagger

The count’s funeral would take place next week.

His corpse wasn’t even cold yet before all of the region’s vermin crawled out of the woodwork. Distant cousins, well-born opportunists, crooked nobles like Ser Hugdan’s father… everyone with a small drop of Brynslow blood—and many people without—immediately started pushing their claims on his estate.

“The Count explicitly named Alaire his heir,” I pointed out to Therese in annoyance after we examined the pretenders’ written complaints. Since Alaire herself was busy organizing her grandfather’s funeral rites, it fell on us to act as her gatekeepers. “What is there to discuss?”

Therese answered with a sigh. “Much, I’m afraid. Bastards do not stand to inherit anything in Archfrost under normal circumstances. Alaire’s claim is strong, but it can be contested.”

What did it matter that Alaire was born out of wedlock? Her mother had been Count Brynslow’s daughter, and no one could contest that. “What if I support her as a hero and Lord Protector of Snowdrift?” I questioned Therese. “Would it help?”

“It will help give her more legitimacy, but you are neither a duke nor a prince of the realm.” Therese wrote down a letter and sealed it with the Brynslow seal. “Only one person can silence all pretenders.”

The king, I guessed. Or in Archfrost’s case, crown-prince Roland. Our Knight.

Our salvation came in the form of a certain teleporting nun. Eris came back one day after the Count’s death to relay the Fatebinder’s answer to our call for help on the Blight situation, and quickly agreed to transport messages back to the capital. She returned a few hours later with more information.

“I leave for three days and a disaster happens,” Eris mused. “Robin, you truly are a magnet for trouble.”

“Story of my life,” I replied. Eris meant it as a joke, but it stung nonetheless. The whole mess could have been avoided had I noticed Florence’s treachery early on.

“How did His Majesty answer?” Therese asked.

“Prince Roland agreed to legitimize Alaire,” Eris explained. “In fact, he intends to attend the count’s funeral and do so personally.”

Therese and I immediately exchanged a worried glance. Archfrost’s crown-prince, in Snowdrift? A city poisoned by a Blight and infested with hidden cultists for all we know?

This couldn’t end well.

“Can’t he send a decree?” I asked, trying to salvage this disaster. “Or a messenger?”

“I asked him the same question.” Eris chuckled. “That poor boy answered that nothing else will settle the matter and that, I kid you not, ‘a Knight afraid of evildoers is no Knight at all.’ He said that with such a serious and dignified expression that I couldn’t feel mad at him.”

“His Majesty is worried,” Therese guessed. “Scouts informed us that the beastmen are gathering a large army north of Stonegarde. Between the Blight and the count’s death, the royal army can’t afford any trouble in the rear.”

I was starting to see the political picture. A decree was a piece of paper, and the prince was still too young to rule in his own name. The current regent was deeply unpopular, so bold nobles might contest the decision. They could frame it as evil counselors forcing the prince to cave into a bastard’s demands.

However, if the prince legitimized Alaire in public before the most important nobles in the realm, at her grandfather’s funeral no less… who would dare challenge his decision?

“Besides, he’s eager to meet his fellow heroes.” Eris winked at Therese. “And his fiancé.”

I blinked a few times before face-palming at my own stupidity. Therese warned me that she would marry a local noble, but who could have been well-born enough for an imperial princess? Another royal of course! Roland and she were even close in age!

“I have been flirting with the future queen of Archfrost?” I asked Therese.

Eris gasped in false outrage. “Robin, you maidenless scoundrel! How dare you?!”

Therese smiled at me. Clearly, she had been waiting for me to learn the truth with impatience. “Do you still intend to duel my fiancé if he does not appreciate me, Robin?”

“Of course,” I replied shamelessly. “But I won’t fight fair.”

The Knight was one of the most powerful heroes alongside the Mage when it came to pure combat power. The last one broke a thousand-strong Shinkokan army on her lonesome. I had absolutely no chance of beating Roland in a straight duel. But as they said, cheating was man’s way of fighting back against the injustice called talent.

Still, I hoped for Therese and myself that Roland would be the charming kind of prince.

“Roland’s visit to Snowdrift will only paint a bigger target on this city’s back though,” I pointed out. “Considering the assassination’s odd timing, I’m wondering if that was the point.”

“We’re on the same page, Robin,” Eris agreed. “I would bet everything I have that the Knot’s murder of the count was meant to bait our Knight out of his castle.”

“Beware of ill-conceived bets,” I warned her with a forced smile, trying to lighten the mood. “My power might take you up on it.”

“I’m sure you would give it back afterward,” Eris replied. “However, I believe the situation is only about to become more complicated.”

Therese scowled. “The regency will end in less than two months.”

“The tension is palpable in the capital,” Eris said with a worried look. Considering how cheerful and carefree she was, I took it as a dire warning. “Roland’s uncle Clovis has been the regent and the queen’s favorite both for nearly twelve years.”

That was twelve years too many in my humble opinion. Duke Clovis’ negligent governance had only contributed to Archfrost’s decline. The Walbourg region to the south remained rebellious, the kingdom’s economic woes were far from solved, and the regent preferred hunts and women to work from what I heard.

Unfortunately, my experience in Ermeline taught me that power had a way of corrupting incompetent men into all-out scoundrels.

“You don’t think the Regent will relinquish power,” I guessed. “Would he truly be stupid enough to challenge the Knight?”

“Robin, Robin, come on, don’t be a fool.” Eris wagged her finger at me. “If you were a lecherous dolt with absolute power and no accomplishment to your name, would you seriously play second fiddle to a dashing young man and future hero of the realm?”

From her tone, she didn’t have a high opinion of the Regent’s intelligence.

Therese, who was more familiar with Archfrost’s political situation than me, immediately grasped the implications. “Duke Sigismund despises Duke Clovis,” she said. “The funeral offers Prince Roland the perfect excuse to meet with him outside the capital… alongside his fellow heroes.”

The prince wanted our support in securing his throne. Which frankly, we would all benefit from. A stable Archfrost meant my homeland would have a better time dealing with both cultists and potential invasions from the north. Moreover, Roland could do much to help Snowdrift.

“This could be an opportunity,” I said after thinking about the matter thoroughly. “The prince’s visit would encourage the Knots to strike. If we play our cards right, we can force them into the open and wipe them out.”

“The cultist situation in Archfrost bothers Lady Alexios,” Eris said. “She has dispatched the Inquisitor to Snowdrift, alongside a squad of exorcists to deal with the Blight.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “An inquisitor, or the Inquisitor?”

The Inquisitor was one of the Priest’s vassals alongside the Wanderer, and traditionally associated with the Arcane Abbey.

“Both,” Eris replied with a sigh. “The person who received the class is an actual inquisitor, and he’s coming with his entire squad.”

“You do not seem happy about it, Lady Eris,” Therese said.

“Cortaner’s a hardass.” Eris rolled her eyes. “You know how some people have a stick up their butt?”

“This guy has a whole spear lodged in his bottom?” I guessed.

“A whole pointy wall of them,” Eris confirmed with a laugh. “Cortaner is frighteningly good at his job though. Now that his power compels everyone to tell him the truth and answer his questions, he’s even better. I bet he’ll cleanse the city of cultists in a moon’s turn.”

If the Knight and the Inquisitor visited Snowdrift, then it meant nearly a third of all the active heroes would find themselves in the same city. This gathering would be rife with opportunities and dangers. The Knots would have to react one way or another. They wouldn’t have another chance like this one.

“We will need to hire more guards,” Therese concluded. “And screen them for cultist allegiances.”

“Yes, we must,” I confirmed. I had the feeling I would be working around the clock to take away their ability to lie or betray the administration.

“I suggest you buy more muscles, my dear Robin,” Eris added before pinching my arm. “A few more abs might ruin your beautifully slim, slender figure, but they might save your life.”

“I already tried to buy the strength of ten men,” I confessed with a sigh. “Didn’t work as I had hoped.”

Having dungeons full of criminals willing to participate in experiments to escape execution allowed me to try more dangerous trades. In one unfortunate case, I purchased a man’s strength and watched him wither into a husk. He became unable to move his lungs to breathe, and his heart stopped beating on its own. When I realized what I had done, he was already dead.

The man had been a slaver, but his demise still weighed on my conscience. Doubly so since it didn’t make me any stronger. An attempt to buy another criminal’s agility only resulted in him suffering his predecessor’s fate in short order, much to my horror.

I shouldn’t feel sorry for scum, I tried to tell myself. Deaths were easier to stomach when I could justify them to myself. They surrendered their rights as human beings when they became slavers and murderers. Now they can see how it feels to be someone else’s property.

But no matter how many excuses I tried to come up with, how many lies I tried to tell myself, it still felt terribly wrong.

Much to my dismay, I proved no quicker than before. From what I gathered, concepts such as strength and speed worked similarly to one’s ability to lie. Buying knowledge I already possessed from another wouldn’t add to it. I already possessed ‘strength’ of my own, so buying another man’s might didn’t enhance mine. You either had it or you didn’t.

Now, a trade might work if I purchased a specific ability, like an expert weightlifter’s ability to carry a large load on his back, rather than strength itself as a general concept. I could also potentially increase my physical prowess by selectively buying someone’s muscles, skills, or body parts, but I would never gain the strength of ten men combined. Not unless I could find a dragon willing to trade away his body.

“You will find a loophole, Robin,” Eris encouraged me with a wink. “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t you ask the Fatebinder for books on previous Merchants?” I questioned her. “It would help me greatly if my predecessors left records of their own experiments.” And leave fewer corpses to bury.

“I’ll try to snoop a few books out of the archive, but you better treat me to dinner when I return.” Eris blew me a kiss. “Anyway, I’ve work to do, so off I go.”

She vanished like the wind before I could answer.

“I hate it when she does that,” I muttered to myself.

“Tales do say that the Wanderer never stays in one place for long,” Therese replied with her arms crossed. “We have much on our plate this week, and none more than Alaire.”

I nodded grimly. Alaire had been helping the priests prepare her grandfather’s remains as tradition demanded. I had done the same for my parents, and the sense of loneliness I experienced then remained sharp to this day. Therese and I would go comfort her once her work ended.

Until then, the best we could do was lighten the burden of governance. Our economic reforms were now underway, with work to be done on all fronts. Every coin we brought in, and every smile we purchased, would help make Snowdrift a better place.

I left the castle to go check on my friends’ activities. As per our plans, Colmar and a small group of craftsmen had started building glass gardens on the northern bank. We’d decided to use the city’s park as the place to set them up due to good soil quality and easy access to fresh water. It helped that that part of the city was as far away from the Blight’s epicenter as possible; the park had been originally built close to the Black Keep by the nobility, for the nobility. No matter how much the southern bank fell into poverty, the count always found a gardener to cut the grass.

I was impressed by my allies’ progress. One day ago, the park had been an unremarkable expanse of grass and flowers with a few fountains standing out. Half a dozen glass houses had popped up in the meantime, each filled to the brim with rich earth and seeds.

I found Colmar tending to one of these gardens with unexpected company.

“Rice would give more food, Lord Alchemist,” Soraseo said with a hand on her sword. She observed Colmar planting seeds in carefully arranged plots with strange interest. “The river can feed the seeds, and the grain will feed the mouths of the people.”

“We do not have rice seeds in Archfrost,” Colmar replied while grabbing a handful of dirt and changing them with his power into strange powder. “I am curious though… You believe rice can grow in the cold?”

“Not when the snow falls. You can grow it when the ice becomes water. In my homeland, farmers grow rice in mountains where the wind is cold.” Soraseo looked over her shoulder and smiled at my approach. “Robin. I feel happiness to see you.”

“Damn, your ears are sharp,” I said while joining the two. “I didn’t expect you to have an interest in agriculture.”

“My ears are round, like yours,” Soraseo replied with a confused frown. “I was asking Colmar why you did not grow rice, if you want more food.”

“We must do with the seeds we possess,” Colmar said while sowing the plot with his powder, which I assume were nutrients. He grabbed another handful of dirt to repeat the process, which I found odd. “Unfortunately, my power cannot turn pebbles into functional plants.”

“Is there an issue with the soil?” I asked him. “Why not simply transform all of the plot’s dirt into nutrients at once?”

“Because I cannot.” After sowing the field, Colmar applied a hand against one of the panels making up the structure of the cage. The glass turned into dense ice, but the wooden frame remained unchanged; as did all the panels beyond that one. “Do you see the issue?”

“Only the glass panel changed,” I guessed. “Uh…”

“Oh, I have the understanding.” Soraseo nodded sharply. “You tried to make the entire box into ice.”

“Transform into ice,” Colmar corrected her. “As for why this happens, I can warrant two guesses. First of all, my power seems to struggle a bit when very different forms of matter are slapped together. I can transform a boulder bigger than a man into salt, but altering a house of wood and stone combined gives me trouble. Second, I suspect that if an object’s shape, limits, and composition are not clearly delimited, then it takes the path of least resistance.”

Hence why he could only alter a handful of dirt rather than the entire plot. The Alchemist’s power struggled to understand the concept of ‘ground’ as a continuous unit, and thus only changed what Colmar held in his hand because it required less effort.

“On the bright side, that means you won’t turn the entire world to gold by accident,” I joked, though Colmar’s point about an object’s limits gave me an idea. “I wonder…”

“Did I inspire a new test?” Colmar asked, suddenly interested. He was about as curious about my power’s applications as I was.

“A coin teleports to my hand when I buy it.” I put a hand on the warm glass. Hours in the sunlight had charged it with heat. “If I buy, say, a box like this one, would the contents teleport with it? Even though seeds and vegetables are technically living things?”

Soraseo immediately identified the tactical potential. “How about a castle?” she asked. “Would it transport soldiers?”

“Though many astonishing legends surround the Merchant, I haven’t heard any involving transporting in fortresses from nowhere,” Colmar pointed out. “So if such a miracle is possible, it must have limits.”

“I could try with a box and a cat and increase the size afterward,” I replied with a shrug. I glanced at the Black Keep, which would live up to its name on the day of the funeral. “I doubt Alaire would let us try with her castle.”

Colmar lowered his beak. Though I couldn’t see eyes or any hint of flesh, his body language betrayed his guilt. “How is our lady?”

Not well, I thought. “She’s helping the priests prepare her grandfather’s corpse for the wake.”

“I still do not understand what happened,” Colmar confessed. “I have known Florence for years, even before the purple plague. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we crossed paths many times and often collaborated to save people. Hundreds of innocents owe their lives to her hard work and dedication.”

“Did she ever give any hint to her true allegiances?” I asked him.

“No, absolutely not. She and the late count have been acquainted for over a decade. If she wanted to assassinate him, she passed over dozens of opportunities.”

“Then she was probably laying low,” I said. I still felt sore about how Florence managed to keep her cover in the presence of so many heroes. That woman had nerves of steel. “Acting as a sleeper agent until the time was right.”

“Mayhaps, but my instinct tells me there’s more to it.” Colmar stroked his mask’s beak. “I know she lives with her family in an Arcadian village near the border. Mosswood, I think its name is?”

“I will send investigators,” I said. “But I doubt she would return to such an obvious location. We don’t even know if she has even left the city, let alone Archfrost.”

“The enemy will come to us,” Soraseo said calmly. “You must wait for the snake to peek out of its den to kill it.”

But how many would die when that same snake bit back? I never cared much for the count—I only met him once after all—but if the cultists had slain Little Benicio, Alaire, or my fellow heroes… I wouldn’t have taken it well.

I stared at the mark on the back of my hand. My power could kill a man with a single transaction. Why wouldn’t it work in reverse?

“I…” I cleared my throat as a dark idea wormed its way into my mind. “When people die, their souls return to the Soulforge, correct? Then the four artifacts reforge them for reincarnation?”

“Yes, it is a proven phenomenon,” Colmar confirmed. “Why?”

“Do you think… I know it might sound crazy and heretical, but…” I gathered my breath. “Do you think I could buy someone’s soul to save them from death?”

Colmar stared at me without a word. Soraseo’s grip on her sword tightened. None of them said a word.

“Or, you know, buy the souls of the dead from the artifacts? To bring them back in a new receptacle?” I still cursed my powerlessness when my parents died. I would have given so much to see them again. “If my power can halt the march of time for a human being, it should free them from death’s grasp too.”

Soraseo scowled darkly, her eyes staring at the sky. I could tell she was considering my words. She had lost an important person too and traveled half a world away from her homeland to see them again.

Colmar observed me in silence for a few seconds, before grabbing a silver coin from his pouch and presenting it to me.

“What is that for?” I asked him with a frown.

“Your ability to die,” he said calmly.

I stared at the coin and the temptation it represented. I thought back to my parents’ death, of Alaire praying at her murdered grandfather, at the abominable sorrow and emptiness that followed the loss of a cherished one. There was no nobility in being mortal.

“I accept,” I said, taking the coin.

My mark glowed, and the coin teleported out of my grasp.

My power had refused the deal.

“Now, Robin, I will buy your ability to be wounded.” The coin escaped my hand when I took it. “I will buy your ability to be infested with diseases.” Another bust. “I will buy your body’s need for food and drink.” Once again, my power canceled the deal. “Now, try it all over again with Lady Soraseo.”

Again and again, my power failed me. Whether I asked Soraseo to sell me her mortality or she tried to buy mine, the Merchant class simply canceled all deals.

I cannot sell what does not belong to me, I thought grimly. I bought the count’s illness and I could do the same with wounds, but not the ability to receive them, because it showcased a core frailty in the mortal condition. A void. I might buy someone’s invulnerability, if such a thing existed, but not the absence of invulnerability.

A man could own his own life, but not his death.

And then, Colmar delivered the finishing blow: he presented his hero’s mark to me.

“I will sell you my Alchemist class,” Colmar said without hesitation, “for one lock of your hair.”

Soraseo’s eyes widened in shock. Even I, who was always on the lookout for good deals, balked at it. “Colmar, I can’t…”

“If it works, you can sell it back to me,” Colmar reassured me. “I trust you.”

His confidence in me warmed my heart, but it did little to soothe my worries. I had never dared to ask a fellow hero to buy their mark. I doubted it would work, or else a previous Merchant would have done so, but if it did… if it did…

“I…” I cleared my throat. This was a unique opportunity to confirm my power’s hard limits. “I agree.”

My mark glowed as my power activated. Yet Colmar’s own did not leave him, nor did my head lose a single hair.

This confirmed beyond doubt that we did not own our classes. I guessed it made us. The marks chose us. Perhaps they could abandon us the moment we proved unworthy of our charge.

“What was your point, Colmar?” I asked him. “That I cannot, in fact, buy everything?”

Instead of giving me a straight answer, Colmar avoided my gaze and stared at his plants. “There was once a young apothecary who thought he could save everyone from death. He was a prodigy in the healing arts with a prodigious mind. His teachers called him a genius blessed by the heavens. He believed them… until a plague swept away his village.”

Soraseo and I listened in silence. Colmar’s voice remained steady, but the sorrow in it remained vivid and raw.

“He tried his best to save all of his patients, but for every one person he healed, two more perished.” Colmar’s story was marked by a short pause, as if holding back a sob. “Until one day, he realized everyone around him was dead.”

“This is a sad tale,” Soraseo whispered.

“But it is mine.” Colmar nodded. “How many generations of heroes preceded us, Robin? And how many have survived to this day?”

None. Even though Merchants could buy centuries of time and eternal youth, none lived to the current age. For it was in our nature to chase after danger, to confront death so innocents wouldn’t have to.

“Colmar–” I spoke up, but he did not let me finish.

“You cannot save everyone, Robin,” Colmar warned me. “We are not gods. We did not build the world, let alone own it. We only exist in it, and as such are subject to its laws. Even our marks are loans from a higher power, granted to us with the expectation that we will one day give it back. I fear that if you start believing that you can solve all of Pangeal’s problems with your class, it will lead you down a dark and painful path.”

You cannot save everyone. You are not a god. Your power has limits that you cannot overcome.

I stared at my mark, whose power could buy lives and sell time. Colmar’s words were wise and, from the way he spoke, inspired by terrible hardships. But still, I wondered if they were correct. My power rewarded ingenuity. Could I find a secret loophole that would allow me to cheat the goddess’ laws? One that had escaped all Merchants before me? It sounded absurd even to me.

Perhaps Colmar was right, and pursuing that path would only make me an overambitious fool. Part of me still wanted to try, if only to check.

I eyed Soraseo. She gripped her sword’s hilt so tightly that I worried she might hurt herself. Colmar’s words affected her even more than they did me

“Do not take my words as an invitation to give up on everything,” Colmar said. “What I mean to say is that all we mortals can do is try our best, but we must accept that sometimes wishes do not come true.”

I let out a chuckle, though there was no joy in it. “Quite the harsh words to say.”

“Better that you learn this lesson from my example than from your sorrow.” Colmar crossed his arms. “In any case, our plan is proceeding apace. With the glass gardens mostly complete, Marika can now focus on shipbuilding.”

The mention of Marika’s name jolted Soraseo out of her thoughts. “Oh, I had almost forgotten,” she said. “Robin, I have a message from Marika. She said that your girl and friend have arrived to see you.”

“My girl and friend?” I squinted. “My girlfriend?”

“Oh, it was one word?” Soraseo was making progress in speaking Archfrostian, but she could miss subtleties sometimes. “Yes, I believe that was her meaning. Your girl-friend is waiting at the port.”

My girlfriend? I didn’t have one—much to my dismay—and I couldn’t see why Marika would call anyone that.

Unless… could it be…

“Does she come from Ermeline?” I asked Soraseo with my heart pounding in my chest.

“I am aware that your girl-friend took an eastern ship like we did,” she replied. “I do not know more.”

I left my friends faster than Eris, much to their surprise.

She actually came? I thought as I bolted off to the port. Moreover, a burden was lifted from my shoulders. I worried she might have perished in the Ermeline city massacre. I would be relieved to see her safe and sound. And here I thought she was kidding about meeting me in Snowdrift.

I found Mersie waiting for me on the docks, at the very spot where the ferry dropped off my team a few weeks ago.

I almost didn’t recognize her at first. She hadn’t changed physically in any way. She was still the slim, slender beauty that charmed a wealthy nobleman into making her his mistress. Her shoulder-long blond hair flowed with the wind, and the river’s water reflected off her sea-blue eyes. She had taken to wearing a black corset that left her shoulders exposed, a travel cloak, and a long skirt covering her legs.

But the way she stared at the river… her steady yet subtly alert posture, like a lioness ready to show its claws at the first sign of danger… the hint of knives hidden up her sleeves, and the ones clearly exposed on her belt… her dangerous allure… those were new.

She wasn’t alone either. A stout man in his sixties followed her like her shadow, a hand on a saber hanging from his belt. His brown livery marked him as a butler of some kind,

His white whiskers and ponytail reminded me of a lion’s mane, and his black eyes assessed me with cold calculation when I approached. Tightly-packed travel bags lay at his feet.

Mersie, meanwhile, greeted me with a lovely smile. “Your hometown is quite the dreary place, Robin,” she said as if we had just met yesterday. “But it has a certain charm to it.”

I didn’t say a word. Instead, I struggled to make sense out of the all too familiar feeling surging from my mark when I looked at her. From the way she looked at me, Mersie experienced it too.

Yet she still played coy. “What’s wrong, Robin?”

“Show it to me,” I answered.

Mersie chuckled. “In the open?”

“My house is over there.” I glanced at her companion. “Who is he?”

“His name is Camilus. Camilus, this is Robin.” The butler bowed respectfully as Mersie introduced us to each other. “He’s… an old family friend.”

“My lady spoke well of you,” the man said, though he did not stop appraising me.

My lady. I squinted at Mersie, trying to detect any hint I was facing a twin or shapeshifter adopting her face. “I thought you had no family left?”

“My family died long ago, but it does not mean we weren’t friendless. Camilus has been my faithful retainer for many years.” She put a hand on her waist. “Perhaps we could discuss old times in a warmer place?”

I nodded sharply and invited them into my house. Marika was working at the shipyard and Benicio received free education at the church under heavy escort, so we had a place for ourselves. I invited Mersie—if that was her real name; I was starting to wonder—and her attendant upstairs. Mersie and I sat around a table, while Camilus immediately opened the travel bags and moved to prepare beverages without any prompt on our part. He must have done it so often it had become a second-nature to him.

“Cozy,” Mersie commented. “I’ve met the woman you live with. She told me you met on the ferry?”

“I booked a spot for you,” I replied, still trying to gather my thoughts.

Mersie’s lips stretched into a thin line. “I very much wanted to, Robin,” she said, and it sounded sincere. “To drop everything and follow you. Believe me, I did.”

But in the end, she stayed in Ermeline. Because she had a task to complete there before she could leave the city. A mission that mattered more to her than me.

“Show it to me,” I said.

Mersie held my gaze for a moment, her butler observing us from the kitchen with a cautious stare. Then she raised her skirt all the way up to her right thigh, revealing a silvery mark on her pristine white skin. I had already guessed which class it belonged to before I saw it: a dagger and the Erebian numeral for thirteen.

The Assassin.

Curse you,Eris, I thought while removing my glove. She had known all along, teased me, and didn’t say a word. She must be laughing at me right now.

I removed my glove and showed Mersie my own mark. She gave me that blank, impenetrable look she used to hide her emotion. I didn’t think she was surprised. She must have heard the Merchant rumors by now.

“The Merchant. I see.” Mersie crossed her legs. “Did you kill Sforza?”

“Yes.” I had no reason to deny it. “Did you wipe out Ermeline’s nobility?”

She did not deny it. “I told you I had something to do in the city before I could join you,” Mersie reminded me. “I intended to poison them at their party. Then the mark appeared, and you know the rest.”

She had planned the massacre before receiving her mark. Possibly for years. “Your lover–”

“Was a pig. A useful pig, but a pig nonetheless.” If Mersie felt any remorse at murdering him alongside Ermeline’s other nobles, she didn’t show any hint. “He let me infiltrate the Duke’s court, and then he served his purpose.”

The way she said that—with the tone one might use to discuss the weather or inane gossip—contrasted so much with the woman I had known that I struggled to believe she was truly Mersie. But then I remembered how well she managed to hide her true feelings, and the invisible distance I always sensed between us when we were dating. It was never something I could put into words; just a vague feeling that she was holding things back from me.

Come to think of it, Mersie always gave me a blank expression and evasive answers whenever I asked her if she remembered her parents from before the orphanage. I had put it on her being naturally cautious and old wounds that never properly healed, but now I wondered if she had been making up lies on the spot. I vividly remembered the first time I broached the subject of eloping from Ermeline, to leave the city and Sforza behind. Mersie had struck me as torn between leaving with and staying in Ermeline, but she could never come up with a good reason for why. She answered to me that it was too risky, that Sforza would find out, and a dozen other excuses.

Yet they always felt as just that: excuses.

“Who are you, Mersie?” I asked her.

“Mersie.” The woman I thought I once knew avoided my gaze. “I like that name.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the NovᴇlFɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“But it’s not yours.”

“It is now.” She sighed. “But my mother called me Fiorella, or Fior for short. A little girl that died fifteen years ago."

“You look very much alive to me.” The name didn’t ring any bells though. “Why did you do it? You clearly planned that massacre for years.”

Mersie leaned back against her seat. Her butler served each of us a cup filled with tea, which I assumed was Seukaian in origin from the texture. A very expensive spice in the current times.

“What do you know of the Knots?” Mersie asked me.

More than I thought, and less than I should.

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