The baroness looks at you inquisitively as you pocket the diamonds. A shadow passes over her face, but she says nothing—true to the reticent style of aristocracy that wounds by omission rather than by insult. You say nothing, either—nor are you the type to bristle at veiled barbs. ‘Only facts matter,’ your pragmatic father used to say, a mantra as cold and polished as the coins he loved to count. You know he’d be proud of you now, watching you increase your wealth with practiced ease. ‘A coin in your pocket is worth more than a thousand in stock,’ he’d say, with the faintest hint of a smirk, as if he’d cracked the universe’s final riddle.
— I’m really interested in your story— you say again, your voice calm, inviting, but just sharp enough to remind the Baroness that this conversation is a transaction too. You’re not here for riddles wrapped in silk. You want the why—why the diamonds, why now, and why you.
—My story is ordinary, Your Grace. What’s extraordinary is encountering you here, in this exact place and moment—as if the stars themselves conspired to guide you into my path. And the stars are never wrong. Your reign is faltering. You must return swiftly, before the damage to your lands—and to your name—becomes irreparable.
—That much I know, my dear Baroness—but thank you for confirming what I feared. Still, fears are only shadows. I need facts. Do you have more details? What exactly happened back in Moravice? And who’s behind it?
—I know not who is truly behind it, but I’m convinced it’s retaliation for your uncle’s role in the war against the Emperor. There are two main possibilities: either Emperor Claudius himself seeks to destabilize the region—though in my view, that is the least likely.
—And the more plausible one?
—Someone within your inner circle. Someone exploiting your current vulnerability to challenge your father’s claim to the Duchy—or, at the very least, to siphon as much as they can before order is restored. Merely leaving your lands in such times… Your Grace, you’ve placed yourself in grave danger.
—And what should I do, then? And why did you give me the diamonds?
—If I may be so bold as to advise you, Your Grace: finish your journey quickly and return to Moravice without delay, before the rebellion sparks into open flame. I’ve heard whispers—rumors of your death. They may have even reached the Duke himself. God only knows what he must be feeling right now. And in a place like this, there are always knives for hire, eager to turn rumor into truth for the right price. You’re in grave danger. Leave this city while you still can—either make for your uncle, if that remains your plan, or better still, turn back to Moravice at once.
As for the diamonds, they are—as I mentioned—a gesture of loyalty to the Moravian crown. I stand to lose much if rebellion takes root. Call it a prepayment of future taxes, if you like. Or better yet, a tool. You’ll need coin, perhaps to buy off mercenaries or secure safe passage. Either way, you’ll find it useful when your status is no longer enough.
—Thank you for your help, Baroness. I’m forever in your debt…
She inclines her head, the faintest trace of a smile crossing her lips—but her eyes remain watchful to your surroundings.
—Tell me… do you know the safest way to reach Zalenica?
There’s a pause. The kind that tastes of caution.
—That depends on how many people you trust, Your Grace—and how many know you’re still alive. The desert paths are not what they once were. Raiders grow bolder with every passing day, and not all who bear your standard ride with loyalty in their hearts.
If you choose Zalenica, travel by night. Follow the smugglers’ trails through the salt flats and low dunes. Avoid the caravan routes—they’re watched, and too many eyes linger where coin is expected.
—If it’s Moravice you seek… the safest route is to ride hard to the south, and not stop until you reach the dry well at Rasha’s Spine. There, switch mounts. That, among other things, is what the diamonds are for.
From there, continue straight to the edge of the Painted Cliffs, to the city of Al-Mirkat. You’ll find those still loyal to your cause—but caution will serve you well even here. Ask for Lord Gustav. He remains fully devoted to your house. If anyone can help you from there, it’s him.
She lowers her voice, gaze sharp as flint.
—But be discreet. In Al-Mirkat, even loyalty has a price—and ears have learned to live long by listening. And whatever you do, never sleep in the same place nor make camp beneath the same sky twice. In this heat, the knives come slowly—but they come all the same.
—What about you, Baroness? Why are you in a place this dangerous?
—I came on family business—matters that required my direct presence. I have well-connected kin in this city, with influence enough to help secure the safety of my lands. I return to Moravice in two days.
She studies you for a moment, then continues with quiet intent.
—If Your Grace feels inclined to return as well, I can escort you to my relative’s estate. It’s the safest place in this city for someone of your standing. You’ll be well protected there—at least until we depart.
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