Chapter 22: The Devil Baron of the Sovereign State of Arwen
Year 0003, Month VIII-X: The Imperium
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Day 57.5: Baron Toffer of Arwen
The acrid smoke of burning incense mixed with the stench of sweat and desperation that permeated the dimly lit chambers of the establishment. Baron Toffer remained blissfully unaware that while he indulged in his twisted pleasures, his carefully guarded secrets were being torn from the shadows of his estate. The raid had concluded nearly an hour ago, yet the echoes of the commotion had not yet reached his ears—nor would they, for some time yet.
He was currently engaged in his preferred form of entertainment within the confines of a disreputable brothel, one that catered to the darkest appetites of those with coin enough to pay for silence. The establishment specialized in providing the most vulnerable women as playthings for nobles with sadistic inclinations. Toffer's reputation preceded him here; the proprietors knew well to prepare their most desperate and defenseless girls for his visits.
The Baron's appetite for violence was insatiable, his craving for dominance absolute. He selected his victims with the calculating eye of a predator, choosing those who would break most beautifully under his ministrations. The sounds of muffled sobs and desperate gasps filled the chamber as he exercised his power over those who had no choice but to endure his brutality.
"My... my lord... something has happened at the estate." The trembling voice of his retainer cut through the oppressive atmosphere like a blade through silk. The man stood rigid with terror at the threshold, his face pale as death itself. He knew the risks of interrupting his master's "entertainment," but his duty demanded he deliver this report immediately. The consequences of delay would be far worse than those of interruption.
Toffer's movements were deliberate and savage as he pressed his current victim against the wall, one hand wrapped around her throat with practiced precision. He applied just enough pressure to steal her breath without ending her life—a technique he had perfected through years of practice. The woman's desperate clawing at his wrist only served to heighten his excitement as he continued his assault, reveling in the power he held over her very ability to breathe.
After releasing his pent-up lust with a final, violent thrust, Toffer stepped away from his gasping victim and turned toward his trembling subordinate. He made no effort to cover his nakedness, instead using his state of undress as another tool of intimidation. The Baron's scarred torso told the story of countless battles and duels, each mark a testament to his willingness to embrace violence in all its forms.
"So?" Toffer's voice was deceptively calm, but his retainer could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. "What is it? Speak your mind quickly—you have already dared to interrupt my evening's entertainment."
The messenger swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to find his voice. "My lord, urgent news from the estate. There has been an attack." He paused, watching Toffer's face for the inevitable explosion of rage. The man had mentally prepared himself to be struck unconscious, knowing his lord's temperament all too well.
Instead, Toffer threw back his head and laughed—a sound devoid of humor that sent chills down the messenger's spine. "Ha! Really? Was it Gremory's doing? That decrepit old fool has been crawling up my ass for god knows how long! Seriously, he should just roll over and die already. Did he finally grow a pair and make his move?"
Despite the fear gripping his heart like a vice, the messenger knew he had to correct his lord's assumption. The truth was far more troubling than a simple political maneuver. "No, my lord... they weren't from Lord Gremory's forces. They were of unknown origin—completely unidentified. The guards who encountered them or were in their path were the only ones killed. Strangely, no valuables from the upper levels were taken, nothing of obvious worth was disturbed." The man's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "The report confirms they know of the underground chambers, my lord..."
The transformation was instantaneous and terrifying. Toffer's face contorted with demonic fury, his features twisting into something barely human. Visible rage seemed to radiate from his very pores, filling the room with an almost palpable sense of menace. The temperature seemed to drop as his killing intent manifested like a physical force.
"Don't tell me my precious toys were touched!" His voice rose to a roar that shook the very foundations of the building. "Answer me, you worthless cur!"
The messenger's legs nearly gave out beneath him as he delivered the devastating news. "My lord, three have escaped from their cells. Your newest acquisitions..."
The blow came without warning. Toffer's fist connected with the man's face with the force of a sledgehammer, sending him flying across the room. The sickening crack of breaking bones echoed through the chamber as the messenger's body crumpled against the far wall. Blood pooled beneath his still form, and the irregular rise and fall of his chest suggested severe internal injuries.
"Motherfuckers!" Toffer's voice was barely recognizable as human, more akin to the howl of a rabid beast. "I'm going to kill them all! I'll tear their hearts out with my bare hands!"
"Juliet! Tell the men to mobilize immediately. I want those responsible to be found before dawn breaks!" From the shadows of the chamber, a composed female voice cut through his tantrum.
The woman who stepped forward was the antithesis of everything else in this den of depravity. Juliet moved with the grace of nobility, her posture perfect despite the squalid surroundings. Her clothing was fine but practical, and her eyes held the cold calculation of a career spy. She had observed the entire scene with the detached interest of a scientist studying a particularly volatile specimen.
"My lord, it would be unwise to stir up excessive commotion at this juncture," she said, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "You are well aware that Lord Gremory has his watchful eyes trained upon your every move. Such dramatic action would surely provide him with the valid justification he seeks to launch a full investigation of your estate. Surely you wouldn't want him to discover your... recreational activities in the underground chambers?"
Toffer's rage found a new target as he wheeled on her, his naked form trembling with barely contained violence. "Did you just question me, you presumptuous bitch? Even if you carry the blood of the royal house of Arwen, don't you dare act high and mighty in my presence! You would do well to remember that you are here to aid me, not to lecture me. And know this—if I fall, I won't go down alone. I'll drag the entire royal house down with me into the depths of hell itself!"
Juliet remained utterly unmoved by his threats, her expression as placid as still water. She was a servant of the royal house of Arwen, a nearby sovereignty that maintained a carefully orchestrated enmity with the kingdom of Ogind. Her presence here was no accident; she had been specifically assigned to monitor and manipulate this useful fool.
The reason for Toffer's positioning in this strategic location was multifaceted. Ostensibly, he served as an envoy, but his true purpose was far more sinister. He was to act as a spy, gathering intelligence and sowing discord in preparation for the inevitable invasion. When the time came for Arwen to make its move against Ogind, Toffer would be instrumental in weakening their defenses from within.
The political landscape was a delicate web of alliances and betrayals. Though both the country of Ogind and the sovereign nation of Arwen were nominally allies of the mighty Empire of Elms-Arkanus, their alliance was one of convenience rather than genuine friendship. The Empire had little interest in preventing its allies from engaging in what it considered "petty squabbles"—wars that served to weaken potential rivals while providing valuable opportunities for profit and territorial expansion.
The rivalry between Ogind and Arwen was ancient, stretching back centuries through countless generations of bloodshed and betrayal. Only the formation of their alliance with the Empire had brought about an uneasy truce that had lasted for nearly a hundred years. But truces, like all political arrangements, were temporary things—subject to change when circumstances demanded it.
The royal house of Arwen had long ago calculated the value of Toffer's particular brand of depravity. His twisted nature made him the perfect expendable asset. Should he be killed or captured, his death would provide the ideal casus belli for declaring war against Ogind. The documentation of his "diplomatic" status would be more than sufficient to justify military action in the eyes of the Empire.
This was precisely why Lord Gremory found himself in such a frustrating position. Despite having been granted full authority by the king to govern the entirety of the Principality—a special region specifically granted to the first prince by his father—Gremory could not simply eliminate Toffer as he longed to do. The Baron's status as an envoy to what was technically still an allied nation provided him with a degree of diplomatic immunity that even Gremory's considerable power could not easily overcome.
The Principality itself was a curious political entity. While the first prince held the title of ruler, Count Gremory served as the actual steward of the realm. This arrangement allowed the prince to focus on his studies and courtly duties while leaving the practical matters of governance to someone with the experience and ruthlessness necessary to maintain order in such a volatile region.
For now, Toffer's diplomatic status provided him with the leeway he needed to continue his activities. But Gremory was patient, and he knew that eventually, the Baron would overstep his bounds. When that moment came, not even the protection of the royal house of Arwen would be sufficient to save him from the consequences of his actions.
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Day 58: The Empire's Arcane Inquisitors
The arrival of Imperial representatives was always a matter of considerable ceremony and barely concealed intimidation. The two Arcane Inquisitors who had traveled from the capital carried with them not just the authority of the Empire, but its terrible and absolute power. Their courtesy call to the ruling lord served a dual purpose: it was both a formal request for permission to operate within his territory and a subtle demonstration of the Empire's reach and influence.
Archmage Rook was a man whose very presence seemed to bend reality around him. His mastery of the arcane arts of the Earth Element was legendary, and his reputation as an investigator was both feared and respected throughout the Empire. Beside him stood his Disciple, Mage Crook, a younger man whose focus was on the water element whose talent promised to one day rival that of his master. Together, they represented the Empire's commitment to uncovering the truth, regardless of how deeply it might be buried or how powerful those who sought to hide it might be.
After concluding their initial discussions with the local authorities—meetings that were more formal displays of power than genuine consultations—both Arcane Inquisitors had set their sights on the village of Gibu. The site held the keys to understanding the complex web of events that had led to the disappearance of the precious Mytherium, and they intended to unravel every thread until the truth stood naked before them.
They had been in the region for several days now, taking careful measurements and conducting preliminary investigations. Their methodical approach was legendary; no detail was too small, no clue too insignificant to warrant their attention. The Empire had not achieved its dominance through haste or carelessness, and its Inquisitors embodied this philosophy completely.
Upon arriving at the investigation site, they were greeted by Captain Roderick of the house of Croco—the very man whose urgent request had prompted the Empire to dispatch not one, but two of its most skilled investigators. The Captain's young yet weathered face bore the marks of a soldier who had seen too much death and carried too many burdens.
"Greetings, sirs. I must admit, I didn't expect them to send two Arcane Inquisitors for this matter," Roderick said, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and apprehension. "My name is Roderick, and I am entirely at your service."
Archmage Rook's response was characteristically direct and businesslike. "I am Archmage Rook, and this is my disciple, Mage Crook. The severity of the current situation cannot be overstated—every minute we waste is another opportunity for the missing Mytherium to fall into enemy hands. The implications of such an occurrence would be catastrophic, not just for this region, but potentially for the entire Empire. Let us waste no more time on pleasantries and begin our investigation immediately."
The Archmage began weaving his enchantments with the practiced ease of a master craftsman. His earth spells were designed to reveal the deeper truths hidden within the very fabric of reality itself—to read the story written in blood soaked land and the magic that had been left behind by those who had fought and died here. The magical energy that flowed from his fingertips was both beautiful and terrifying, a reminder of the power that the Empire could bring to bear when its interests were threatened.
As the mystical energies swept across the battlefield, they revealed a complex tapestry of violence and skill. The people who had been present during the final confrontation were undoubtedly practitioners of the arcane arts, their control over magical forces demonstrating the discipline and training typical of formally educated mages. However, their approach had been notably conservative—they had relied primarily on low to mid-tier spells, eschewing the more powerful and destructive magic that would have been available to them.
What made their performance truly remarkable was not the complexity of their magic, but the incredible skill with which they had wielded it. Each spell had been cast with surgical precision, their power amplified not through raw force but through perfect technique and timing. It was the work of someone who understood that true mastery lay not in the ability to destroy, but in the ability to achieve one's goals with minimal waste and maximum efficiency.
The evidence painted a picture of adversaries who were not to be underestimated. These were not mere bandits or desperate criminals—they were highly trained professionals with access to advanced magical education and considerable practical experience. The fact that they had chosen to operate with such restraint suggested either remarkable discipline or a very specific set of objectives that required surgical precision rather than overwhelming force.
However, the true mystery lay not in the deaths of the raiders—that much was relatively straightforward to understand—but in the fate of the Mytherium itself. The precious metal substance that had seemingly vanished without leaving so much as a trace of its magical signature behind. This was deeply troubling, as Mytherium was notorious for its tendency to leave lingering magical residue that could be detected for months or even years after its removal.
It was at this point that Mage Crook offered his own analysis of the situation. "Master, I believe we may be dealing with the work of a single individual rather than a coordinated group as we initially suspected."
Archmage Rook's eyebrows rose slightly—a significant display of surprise from someone of his composure. "Indeed? And what leads you to this conclusion, Crook?"
The younger mage had clearly given this matter considerable thought, and his explanation was both thorough and compelling. "Several factors point to this conclusion, Master. First, examine the wounds inflicted upon the bodies—both the physical trauma and the magical damage show remarkable consistency. When multiple individuals engage in combat, even those trained in identical techniques will inevitably display personal variations in their approach. Each fighter develops their own style, their own preferences, their own instinctive responses to different situations."
He gestured toward the scattered remains of the raiders, his voice taking on the clinical tone of a scholar analyzing a particularly interesting specimen. "However, what we see here is absolute uniformity. The number of sword strokes, the type of weapon employed, the specific techniques used—all of these factors remain constant across every casualty. Similarly, the magical attacks show the same signature, the same power level, the same tactical approach. This level of consistency is only possible when dealing with a single combatant."
Crook continued his analysis, his confidence growing as he laid out his reasoning. "Furthermore, the tactical approach suggests a single individual with exceptional mobility and strategic thinking. The raiders were clearly ambushed when their guard was down, but they were simultaneously engaged on multiple fronts. This suggests that our unknown adversary was in constant motion, striking from different positions with such speed and precision that the raiders were unable to coordinate an effective response."
The implications of this analysis were staggering. If Crook's assessment was correct, they were dealing with an individual of extraordinary skill—someone capable of single-handedly eliminating an entire raider band while simultaneously conducting what appeared to be a precisely planned extraction operation.
"As for the missing Mytherium," Crook continued, "the evidence is too ambiguous to draw definitive conclusions. We cannot determine whether there was an exchange of goods between the raiders and their employers prior to this individual's intervention, or whether our unknown combatant was specifically tasked with eliminating the raiders to prevent any connection to their true employers from being discovered."
Both Archmage Rook and Captain Roderick listened to this analysis with growing appreciation for the young mage's deductive abilities. The hypothesis he presented was not only plausible but elegantly explained many of the seemingly contradictory pieces of evidence they had uncovered.
However, one crucial element remained frustratingly elusive: the question of timing. Had the Mytherium been transferred to the raiders' employers before the massacre occurred, making this individual's intervention a cleanup operation designed to eliminate inconvenient witnesses? Or had the combatant arrived in time to prevent the transfer, securing the Mytherium for themselves or their own employers?
The answer to this question would determine whether they were dealing with a rival intelligence operation or a rogue actor operating for personal gain. Unfortunately, the methodical elimination of all potential witnesses meant that the investigation had reached a temporary impasse.
What the Inquisitors could not have known was that August had spent considerable time and effort ensuring that no traces of the survivors remained. A full week had already passed after he had eliminated the raiders responsible for the atrocities committed against the innocent villagers of Gibu—including Martha, Milo, Nina, and the orphaned children—he had carefully erased all evidence of their escape routes and hiding places. His attention to detail was absolute, his commitment to protecting the innocent unwavering.
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Day 59: Maya's Traveling Mercantile Approaches the Lord
Four hundred and fifty kilometers away from the site where the Arcane Inquisitors continued their meticulous investigation, August and his carefully assembled team were implementing the next phase of their complex plan. The previous day had been spent in the nearby forests, where August, Andy, and Marcus had worked to replenish their supplies of premium game meat—a crucial component of their cover story and their means of gaining access to the halls of power.
Marcus' previous knowledge of the people who came to buy their wares had revealed that Lord Gremory had previously sent a representative to purchase their wares, indicating both an appreciation for quality and a willingness to pay premium prices for exceptional goods. This knowledge provided them with the perfect opportunity to approach the Count directly, using commerce as a means of establishing contact and, hopefully, gaining his trust.
However, their commercial activities were merely the surface layer of a much more complex operation. Even as they prepared to approach Lord Gremory with their offer of premium meat, rumors had already begun to reach the Count's ears regarding the suspicious activities surrounding the foreign envoy's recent behavior.
The commotion at Baron Toffer's estate had not gone entirely unnoticed. While the Baron's security forces had worked frantically to contain the situation, their very efforts to maintain secrecy had instead drawn attention to their activities. Guards had been seen searching the streets in disguise, their desperation barely concealed beneath their attempts at subtlety.
Lord Gremory was far too experienced a politician and administrator to ignore such obvious signs of distress. Whatever Toffer was searching for, it was clearly something that the Baron could not afford to have discovered by the authorities. This presented Gremory with a potential opportunity—if he could discover what had been taken from Toffer's estate, he might finally have the leverage he needed to deal with the troublesome envoy permanently.
The Count had therefore deployed his own intelligence network, sending carefully selected agents to probe the situation and see if they could identify what had been lost and who might have taken it. His spies were well-trained and experienced, but they moved with the patience of professionals who understood that the most valuable intelligence was often obtained through careful observation rather than direct action.
It was into this atmosphere of heightened tension and mutual surveillance that August's team chose to make their approach. The timing was not coincidental—they had observed the increased activity around the Baron's estate and correctly deduced that Lord Gremory would be particularly receptive to any information that might help him understand what was happening.
When the request for an audience was submitted through the proper channels, Lord Gremory's response was immediate and positive. The memory of the exceptional quality of their previous meat delivery was still fresh in his mind, and he was genuinely interested in securing a reliable supply of such high-quality provisions. The meat had been comparable to the finest cuisine available in the Imperial capital—a significant compliment from someone who had dined at the Emperor's own table.
"We greet the honorable Lord Count Gremory," Marcus and Andy spoke in unison as they were admitted to the Count's private receiving chamber. Their manner was respectful but not obsequious, striking the perfect balance between deference to his authority and confidence in their own worth as trading partners.
The chamber itself was a reflection of Gremory's personality and status. The furnishings were expensive but not ostentatious, chosen for their quality and functionality rather than mere display. Maps of the region covered one wall, marked with pins and notations that spoke to the Count's active involvement in governing his territory. The overall impression was one of competent authority—a workspace belonging to a man who took his responsibilities seriously.
Lord Gremory's recognition of Marcus was immediate and apparent. "Indeed, aren't you young Meredian? Fineas's boy? You seem to be traveling with a different merchant group than I would have expected. Are these men associates of your family's business?"
Marcus had anticipated this question and had prepared his response carefully. His separation from his family's business was a matter of public record, but the reasons behind it were deliberately obscured. "No, my lord. For reasons that I cannot disclose in detail, I have chosen to relinquish my connection to my paternal family's enterprises. I now operate under my mother's name—I am simply Marcus Fernando now."
Gremory's political instincts immediately detected that there was more to this story than Marcus was revealing, but he was wise enough not to press for details that the young man was clearly unwilling to provide. In his experience, family disputes among merchant dynasties were common and often intensely personal. Whatever had driven Marcus to break with his father's business was likely a matter of private honor rather than public concern.
"Very well then, Mr. Fernando. I shall address you as you wish to be addressed," Gremory replied diplomatically. "Now, what proposal do you wish to present to me today?"
Marcus bowed slightly, a gesture that conveyed respect without subservience. "My lord, my current organization—Maya's Traveling Mercantile—is currently operating in this region, and we hoped to establish a more formal trading relationship with your household. A few days ago, we had the honor of serving one of your representatives, and the transaction proved mutually beneficial. We would be delighted to continue providing you with premium provisions."
The Count's memory of the exceptional meal he had served to his Imperial guests was still vivid. The meat had been so remarkable that his guests had specifically commented on its quality, comparing it favorably to the finest delicacies available in the capital itself. Such praise from representatives of the Empire was not easily earned and represented a significant diplomatic advantage.
"Indeed, that was exceptional meat quality," Gremory acknowledged. "My guests found it quite remarkable—they claimed it was comparable to the Empire's finest cuisine. Such praise from Imperial representatives is not lightly given. I would certainly be interested in establishing a more regular supply arrangement."
"We are honored by your interest, my lord," Marcus continued. "We currently have a fresh supply available—smaller than our previous offering due to the challenges of accumulating such high-quality stock, but of identical quality. Five hundred kilograms of premium wild game meat, obtained from the finest specimens in the region. We offered it at the market rate of nine local gold coins per kilogram during our previous sale, though demand forced us to accept bids to ensure fair distribution. However, for your lordship, we would be happy to accommodate any specific requirements or preferences you might have."
The Count considered the proposal carefully. The previous price was indeed substantial, but the quality had been exceptional, and the diplomatic benefits of being able to offer such fare to important guests were considerable. "The pricing is acceptable given the quality. I believe we can proceed with the previously established rate."
"Your generosity is most appreciated, my lord," Marcus replied, his tone suggesting that the Count's ready acceptance of their pricing was both unexpected and valued. "In appreciation of your gracious patronage, we would like to offer a small reduction—two imperial copper coins and 5 local gold coins per kilogram instead of 3 imperial copper coins—and we would also like to share some information that may be of interest to you."
Marcus paused deliberately, glancing around the chamber as if concerned about potential eavesdroppers. The gesture was calculated to suggest that the information he was about to share was both valuable and potentially sensitive.
"Word on the street suggests that a certain haughty nobleman has recently suffered the loss of some prized possessions from his private collection," Marcus continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It appears that someone has discovered his carefully hidden secrets within his mansion and has liberated certain commodities from his custody. The nobleman's agents are currently conducting a frantic search throughout the city, seeking to recover what has been taken."
This information immediately captured Lord Gremory's complete attention. The implications were clear, and the timing was too coincidental to be accidental. Marcus was clearly referring to Baron Toffer's recent difficulties, and the fact that these traveling merchants had become aware of the situation suggested that the security breach was more significant than Toffer had led anyone to believe.
"I see," Gremory replied carefully, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp with interest. "Such information is indeed valuable. I'm certain that any assistance I could provide in locating these lost items would be greatly appreciated by my colleague."
The handshake that followed was more than a simple business transaction—it was the sealing of an alliance. Lord Gremory paid one imperial gold coin for the meat and accepted the information as the valuable gift it was clearly intended to be.
"There is no need for additional payment, my lord," Marcus insisted. "Consider this information a gesture of goodwill between trading partners. We hope this marks the beginning of a long and mutually beneficial relationship."
As Andy and Marcus departed from the Count's receiving chamber, they left behind a man whose mind was already racing with possibilities. If the information proved accurate—and Marcus's credibility was enhanced by his family connections and the quality of their previous dealings—then Gremory might finally have found the opening he had been seeking.
The Count remained at his window long after his visitors had departed, staring out at the city he had sworn to protect and govern. Somewhere in those streets, Baron Toffer's agents were searching desperately for something that could potentially destroy their master's carefully constructed facade. If Gremory could discover what had been taken and who had taken it, he might finally have the leverage necessary to eliminate the threat that Toffer represented to the stability of the region.
Meanwhile, August had already begun the most dangerous phase of their operation. Donning his disguise as the mysterious figure known only as "The Blurred Devil," he moved through the shadows of the city's underworld like a ghost. His mission was clear: to uncover the deepest, darkest secrets of the city's corrupt elite and gather the evidence that would seal Baron Toffer's fate once and for all.
The Baron's underground activities were an open secret among certain circles, but proving them would require more than rumors and whispered accusations. August needed concrete evidence—documentation, witnesses, physical proof that would be undeniable even in a court of law. Only then could justice truly be served.
As night fell over the city, the various players in this deadly game of politics and power continued their careful maneuvering. Lord Gremory plotted his moves with the patience of a master chess player, Baron Toffer's agents scoured the streets with increasing desperation, and August prepared to strike at the very heart of the corruption that had taken root in this ostensibly peaceful city.
The stage was set for a confrontation that would determine not just the fate of a few individuals, but the future stability of the entire region. In the shadows between light and darkness, justice and corruption, the true battle for the soul of the city was about to begin.
**[BANKING SYSTEM]**
**Imperial Currency:**
- 4 Imperial Orichalcum Coins
- 1,413 Imperial Gold Coins (+1)
- 563 Imperial Silver Coins
- 310 Imperial Copper Coins
**Local Currency:**
- 6,466 Local Gold Coins
- 557 Local Silver Coins
- 283 Local Copper Coins