Any hope Alpheo harbored for reaching a satisfying agreent with the Veritia envoy evaporated like morning dew under the harsh glare of reality. The envoy's proposal was not only disappointing but borderline insulting, offering terms that failed to reflect the risks and resources Yarzat would be expected to commit.
The crux of the offer—just 8% of the annual toll revenues collected from the ships passing through Harmway, plus no taxes from any ships bearing the royal seal of Yarzat —was a laughable offer.
It was an amount so negligible that it couldn't even begin to justify the hazards of sending Yarzat's fleet into battle.
Contrary to what many might assu, the crown of Yarzat didn't command vast caravans crisscrossing the lands.
Yes, their goods were coveted far and wide, found in markets from the glittering capital of the Rolians to every southern princedom—but they weren't the ones lugging those wares to distant lands. They weren't rchants; they were the source.
Their wealth ca not from selling to foreign buyers directly but from selling to the rchants who flocked to Yarzat's gates, eager to play middleman for a slice of the profit.
This dynamic ant that the promise of tax exemptions in far-off lands was about as useful as offering a fish a golden saddle. Sure, it sounded nice, but it didn't change a thing.
The royal coffers didn't fill by dodging duties abroad; they overflowed because Yarzat's rchants happily paid a premium for the chance to resell its prized goods. Tax-free trade routes? A charming gesture for traders, perhaps, but for the crown? It was like handing a man a bucket to fix a sinking ship—it didn't even scratch the surface of what they needed.
They were the one filling the shop, not those at the desk serving the custors.
As for the second part of the offer, it is a bit more convoluted: before the war, Harmway raked in a tidy 12,000 silverii a month from sea tolls for the Imperial Royal House, more or less. Based on the envoy's generous proposal, Yarzat would be entitled to a modest slice—1,000 silverii per month. Now, on the surface, that might not sound like pocket change, and it would have been. But when you stacked it against the staggering 66,000 silverii Alpheo had already poured into building his fleet, it wasn't just a bad deal; it was a great risk.
Risking a fleet—one that had cost him sweat, blood, and a fortune—on the high seas for a cut so small it barely jingled was unthinkable. The re thought of it would be enough to rob any sane man of sleep.
As a matter of fact his worries were not unfounded, his fleet while costly , was still green and largely untested in true warfare. To pit it against the pirates, an enemy who had ruled those seas for generations, was to gamble with lives and resources against seasoned adversaries who knew every hidden cove, shifting current, and treacherous reef in the waters of Harmway.
Instead, the envoy seed to offer the barest token of acknowledgnt, as if Yarzat's contribution could be bought on the cheap.
This was not a matter of pride alone—it was practicality. To risk everything for such an insultingly small share of the spoils was a work that only a fool would agree on.
Still, a refusal didn't an Alpheo wouldn't walk away with sothing to show for it. After all, even a bad offer can open a door.
If the Veritians lost their grand gamble, Alpheo could swoop in and potentially ransom so of the captured crews and their captains—n Lord Lisidor certainly wouldn't have much use for after a crushing defeat, and things that he was instead desparately in need of. And if, by so miracle, they actually won? Well, then Alpheo's pirate problem would be solved without him lifting a finger, which ant to no longer worry about raiding along the coast.
In the end, it was a classic win-win for Alpheo. Whether the invasion ended in disaster or triumph, the wheels of fortune would still turn in his favor. Now, all he had to do was wait and let the Veritians roll the dice, while he instead worried about his things, such as dealing with his newborn spy-network, which only had 3 mbers, and 2 temporary one that he hoped would beco full-fledged soon.
Still unless the terms for the alliance changed, it was a sound refusal.
-------------
Marcus and Lucius finally found themselves walking once again on the winding roads of Yarzat, the bustling heart of Alpheo's growing power. . Despite the weight of the journey, a flicker of joy lit his face at the thought of reuniting with his wife. The thought of her warm smile and soothing voice had been his sole comfort through the grueling weeks of travel.
Unfortunately, duty cos first in this case, as it wouldn't be proper, to first return to his wife and then to greet the prince.So right now he was on his way to et him.
As he entered the grand hall, Lucius couldn't help but compare his current stride to the previous steps he had taken on his first visit here. It had been a long and hard journey, one where he did not understand if he was going to die or to be rescued multiple tis.
Still in his heart Lucius had nothing but gratitude, because at the end the prince did not abandon them, as Marcus had said multiple tis in one of his many attack of sadness, as he liked to call them.
Lucius and Marcus were escorted by two guards as they made their way to the chamber. The guards were thorough, thodically relieving the two n of every weapon they carried—daggers, short swords, even the small knives hidden within their boots—before finally allowing them through the heavy wooden door.
On the other side of the threshold sat Alpheo. The young ruler's dark hair frad a fair face that still bore traces of youth—barely seventeen, yet commanding a princedom.
He sat casually on a simple but elegant chair, its dark wood polished to a shine. Before him was a small table with three cups and a few urns filled with unknown liquids, their subtle aromas mixing in the air.
Lucius and Marcus exchanged a quick glance before stepping forward and bowing respectfully. "Your grace" they greeted in unison, their voices asured.
Alpheo nodded in acknowledgnt, a faint smile curling his lips. "Take a seat," he said, gesturing toward the two empty chairs across from him.
Lucius and Marcus exchanged a glance before complying, moving toward the chairs with deliberate steps and lowering themselves onto the cushioned seats.
With a practiced air, Alpheo reached for the urn of cider. He filled the two cups placed before his guests.Usually a prince would never serve as cup bearer, but in private he found it much more pratical to be the one doing that , especially with people that knew where they all ca from.
After filling his own , he grabbed it and as he lifted his cup with a confident flourish, he proposed a toast.
"To the success of the mission," he declared, his voice steady and inviting. Without hesitation, he brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply.
Lucius and Marcus followed suit, raising their cups and drinking. As the cider slid down their throats, both n froze a bit tasting that beatiful flavor that they first drunk with the Crown's hound.
Still, the air between them remained heavy. Marcus fidgeted slightly, casting an uneasy glance at Lucius, who squared his shoulders and spoke.
"Your Grace," Lucius began, his tone steady but tinged with regret, "I must apologize. Being captured... it was a failure on my part. On our part. We should have done better."
Alpheo set his cup down, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. A brief silence followed, the kind that stretched just long enough to unnerve. Then, with a calm, asured tone, he spoke.
"This was your first mission," he said, his voice free of bla. "You were thrown into an impossible situation with no proper training or preparation. To expect flawless execution would have been... unrealistic."
Alpheo continued, leaning forward slightly. "But in the end, the mission succeeded. And your capture, while unfortunate, served a purpose. It provided the perfect cover for our ambush—a way to eliminate any loose ends. Thanks to that, there's nothing for the Herculian prince to trace back to us. No breadcrumbs, no suspicions."
He offered them a reassuring smile, his tone softenin. "Sotis, gentlen, even failure can pave the way to victory."
Lucius's posture relaxed marginally, though the tension in the room didn't entirely dissipate. Alpheo leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "As promised, you will be rewarded for your service. One hundred silverii each."
Marcus and Lucius stiffened, their disbelief plain as their eyes widened.
"Your Grace," Lucius stamred, his voice thick with gratitude. "This is... beyond anything we could have imagined. We are deeply thankful."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Marcus echoed, bowing his head with earnest sincerity.
Alpheo gave a brief nod, his expression unreadable, as though brushing off their gratitude. Then his deanor shifted, becoming sharper "There is sothing else I'd like to discuss," he said, his voice carrying a weight that imdiately recaptured their attention.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the table. "The fact that I relied on you for this mission is proof of how limited my network truly is. The truth is, it needs to be reford, rebuilt into sothing stronger, sothing reliable."
His eyes flicked between the two n, gauging their reactions. "I want you both to consider becoming part of that. To be among the first mbers of what I hope will grow into an unmatched web of intelligence ." Lucius and Marcus exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting, as they knew that it was coming . Alpheo continued, his voice steady and persuasive.
"The rewards will be far greater than anything you have received so far. Loyalty and service will not go unnoticed—or unrewarded. With ti, dedication, and success, it is not impossible that you might even find yourselves elevated to noble status."
A brief silence settled over the room after Alpheo's offer, the gravity of his words hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The only sound was the faint creak of chairs as Marcus shifted uneasily, his gaze flicking toward Lucius. It was a look that spoke volus without uttering a word. Whatever you choose, I'll stand by you.
Lucius exhaled deeply, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as if steadying himself. The hesitation was brief, but the weight of his decision pressed visibly on his shoulders. Finally, he shook his head.
"Your Grace," Lucius began, his voice calm but resolute, "I... I must decline."
The words landed like stones in the quiet room. Alpheo's brow furrowed slightly, though he maintained his composure, his expression a careful balance of disbelief and curiosity.
"Decline?" he repeated, his tone asured but laced with incredulity. "Lucius, think carefully about what you're turning down.You will be able to build a legacy that will continue after you..."
Lucius t his gaze, unflinching, though the strain was evident in the set of his jaw. "I understand the magnitude of what you're offering, Your Grace. But this... this is not a path I can walk, I am not cut for it , to risk my life in such a way."
For the first ti, a shadow of frustration crossed Alpheo's face, his youthful features hardening ever so slightly. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive murmur. "Lucius, you're a thoughtful man. Surely you realize what's at stake here. Take ti—consider this. Not just for yourself, but for your family. For your children. What I'm offering could change everything for them, for generations to co."
Lucius's resolve didn't waver. He shook his head again, slower this ti, his tone steady but edged with finality. "I'm grateful for your trust, Your Grace, and for the reward you've already given. But my answer remains the sa. I cannot accept."
Alpheo sat back, exhaling a sigh that was part resignation, part disappointnt. His shoulders relaxed, though his sharp eyes lingered on Lucius with a trace of calculation. "Very well," he said, his tone lighter now, almost amiable. "You must be tired. We'll et again, and by then, I trust you'll have had ti to truly think it over."
Lucius hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken command. Refusing once was bold; twice, daring; but three tis? That was folly. He bowed his head low, his voice subdued. "As you wish, Your Grace."
Alpheo's lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed his lingering disappointnt. "Good. Rest now, Lucius. We'll speak again soon."
Lucius rose, his movents careful, his head still dipped in deference. Marcus followed suit, glancing at his friend with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Together, they turned and exited the chamber, leaving Alpheo alone, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup as a nasty expression appeared on his face.
As he apparently found out he didn't like being told 'No'.
User Comments
0 comments from readers