Chapter 1-1: Luka

Year 309 of the fog

In the musky office of a tavern, Luka smiled flatteringly at Kalstra, his hands clasped easily together on the desk. The orange rays of the setting sun streamed in through the small, dusty windows, saving the cramped room from complete darkness. From behind the worn, wooden door, muffled voices of men drinking away the grueling days of the Outer Ring seeped in. Luka’s guest was hunched in on himself slightly, as if touching anything but the rickety seat he was on would infect him with unknown diseases, or worse - poverty. He had his cloak gathered in his lap, his hands clenching onto the fabric so as to not let it hang and brush over the creaking, grimy floorboards. Luka saw Tasir hide a contemptuous smirk as the latter set down a chipped, ceramic tea-bowl before the man with a slight bow. Peering over into the murky liquid, Kalstra’s face quickly twisted with a look of unmasked distaste.

Luka hid his amusement, keeping his words effortlessly polite as he spread his hands innocently. “Of course, an important guest such as you, m’lord, deserves much better, but this is the best our humble shop can offer. I hope you aren’t insulted. We are relying on you to make a good impression on His Lordship the Marquis on our behalf.”

Kalstra snorted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat to draw himself up taller. “My master has already bestowed a great grace, sending me down here to personally employ your services. Since I have come so far as to visit the Outer Ring, you better prove your reputation isn’t all made up.”

Luka bowed his head compliantly. “Of course, of course, that goes without saying.” After all, even the servant of a mere Marquis was like the heavens to those that struggled through each day in the Outer Ring. Even the slimmest possibility of being sponsored by a wealthy nobleman with a ticket into the Capital was a good enough reason for people of the Outer Ring to grind their own pride into the dirt underfoot. At Luka’s gesture, Tasir withdrew to the back room, returning with a small chest. It was placed on the desk before Kalstra, whose eyes lit up greedily at the gold insignia that decorated it. Without even a trace of the previous reluctance to touch anything, his hands snaked out to grasp at the chest.

Luka arched his brows, suggesting in an expectant tone: “I’m sure the Marquis will be satisfied with our work. As for our reward…”

Kalstra clutched the chest to himself, scoffing with a regained air of self-importance and distaste. “How could the Marquis, or even this official, reward Outer Ring slaves like you for such simple work?”

Tucking his contempt away behind his honeyed smile, Luka bowed his head once again. “Of course, m’lord, my thoughts were lacking. How could we ask you for a reward after being honoured with a task from the Marquis? How about this, we will give you the goods for free today, and we only ask for m’lord to pass on some good words to the Marquis on our behalf. If he can keep us in his thoughts, that’s enough for us.”

The messenger harrumphed impatiently, glancing at the darkening rays of the setting sun before quickly rising from the seat, fumbling to hide the chest away on his person as he did so. “Since I’ve got what I’ve come here for, I must return to the Capital at once. I’ve heard from long ago that this cursed place is still unsafe from the fog after sunset, and I am far too important to be spending a night hiding away in one of the filthy inns here. You may wait for some favourable news, though there are no guarantees. The Marquis is incredibly important and very busy.” With these words as a parting greeting, he brushed past Tasir and out the door.

Watching the messenger hurriedly leave with the chest tucked protectively under his cloak, scorn blossomed in Luka’s chest. But of course, humans, especially these greedy slaves of the lesser nobility, were simple. Picking up the untouched tea, Luka downed the contents, carelessly setting the cup down with a rattle and leaning back in his seat.

Rapping his fingers lightly against the desk for a long moment, he arched his eyebrows at his attendant. “Well?”

Tasir smiled and bowed slightly. “Master already knows that Cain d’Marco works for Duke d’Grei. He’s been a simple Marquis for too long. If the Dukedom the Crown Prince intends to promote tonight is d’Grei’s, then Cain d’Marco’s years of flattery and suffering as an underdog will have paid off.” With a false pause of thoughtfulness, he continued in a drawl: “That gift he picked up from us will surely end up in d’Grei’s hands.”

Laughter bubbled up Luka’s chest at his attendant’s seemingly innocent response. “You know that wasn’t what I was asking.”

Mirth glimmered in Tasir’s dark eyes. “This servant is lacking. What does Master mean?”

Before they could continue, the door that was left ajar by the messenger creaked open further, and Lutr, the owner of the tavern, stepped in hesitantly, his gaze carefully fixed to the floor. Seeming to feel their inquisitive gazes on him, he mumbled: “The guest has left. We saw his carriage head towards the South Gate back into the Capital.”

Tasir hummed. “The South Gate, not the East?”

Lutr shook his head. “Most definitely the South Gate. Some of our men followed a part of the way, but…” His voice shrank in volume. “The sun has already nearly set, so they gave up on tailing him and entered the closest inn they could find to hide in for the night.”

Tasir smiled easily. “Ah, that is fine. They should stay safe from the fog if they are afraid. You can retire for the night as well. Lord d’Lusivere and I have places to be.”

Lutr tensed where he stood, though his gaze remained fixed firmly on the floor. “Will you be travelling in the fog, sir? Shall I hire a carriage?”

Tasir waved it away. “No need, you can leave. You’ve done good work. You and the boys can return to the Middle Ring when the sun comes up tomorrow. We’ve done everything we need to in the Outer Ring for now.”

“Yes, sir.” After a moment of hesitation, Lutr ducked his head awkwardly in Luka’s direction in what was almost a proper bow. “My lord.” With this acknowledgment, he hastily exited, leaving the pair to themselves again.

Luka clicked his tongue, eyeing Tasir with a sigh. “Look how afraid they are of us. You should be nicer to them. A few boisterous drinking buddies would be good, but their fear of you keeps them away from me too.”

Tasir’s smile didn’t change, but Luka suddenly felt that it was incredibly impolite. “Pardon my honesty, Master, but I do believe they are afraid of you because you’re a d’Lusivere, not because of anything I’ve done in particular.” Sighing wistfully, he added, “They weren’t so afraid of me too, once upon a time, before I started serving you.”

Luka snorted. “They’re not even the same boys, are they, as the ones from back then? Never mind, damn servant, just answer my earlier question. Seeing how the messenger went for the South Gate, it seems he wants to take it straight to House d’Grei. This Marquis d’Marco truly is simple-minded.”

Tasir sighed. “Where the Crown Prince grew the nerve to promote a new Great Dukedom without consulting Lord Lycian, this servant won’t understand.”

Luka smiled. “Well, Fourteenth Sister’s might really is great. If she is able to protect her precious prince from Lord Father this time as well, I will reward you.”

Tasir bowed his head. “Thank you, Master.”

Rising from his seat, Luka unhooked his cloak from the coathanger, throwing it over himself with a creeping sense of excitement as he glided out the door. “Reroute d’Marco’s gift to Duke Fei'an, and send a letter to Fourteenth Sister. As for myself, I shall pay a visit to Lord Father.”

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