Victor of Tucson

As the heavy, rune-inscribed door to his vault thunked open and air hissed out, Victor inhaled deeply, suddenly aware of how stale the vault’s atmosphere had become. He had a moment to wonder if there’d been any oxygen left in it at all and whether bad air could affect his epic Quinametzin constitution before he heard a startled gasp and the clatter of something falling to the ground. He shoved the door open in a heartbeat and leaped out, only to find a wide-eyed Bryn stooping to pick up a toppled wooden chair. “Hey,” he grunted.

“Lord Victor! Thank the elder gods!” She seemed annoyed by her own outburst and scowled as if to compensate for her enthusiasm. “Apologies, I was startled by the door opening.”

Victor looked past her and her chair to the door leading out of his suite. “Why are you inside?”

“After you’d been…out for a week, the queen investigated your chambers to ensure you were well. When she found this metallic…chamber, she grew worried and instructed me to have a guard watch it. We’d hoped you put it here and that you were within, but we couldn’t be sure. She’s had more than one master Artificer examine the runic script, but none determined a way to open it without causing great harm.”

Victor nodded while she spoke, turning to retrieve his key and then seal up the vault. When he turned the lock fully to the left, it began to vibrate and hiss with steam, slowly shrinking in on itself. “Yeah,” he gestured to the now waist-high metal globe, pulsing with glowing runes, “it’s mine.” He grinned at Bryn. “Didn’t want people peeking at me while I was unconscious.”

“A wise precaution. However, I wish you’d told me…milord.” She looked at him more closely, staring up into his eyes. “You seem different. Your eyes are so clear—luminous, really, and you seem to have more…presence? I can’t put it into words, but I suspect you had some racial advancement?”

“Yeah. My bloodline gained three ranks.” Victor smiled and stepped forward, clapping her on the shoulder. “It was a hell of a trip, Bryn. How long was I out? I mean, how much longer than a week?”

“Ten days altogether, milord.”

“Shit! Really? Any emergencies?”

“Nothing serious. The queen has been busy with negotiations, but her people, along with some help from the Haveshi, have been managing the duchy. The artificer, Trobban, has come up to see you four times, more and more exasperated as I sent him away.”

“Have you been here the entire time?”

“I’ve taken on a squire, milord. His name is Feist—a promising young prospect of the Queen’s Guard. Her Majesty was pleased to allow me to take him on.”

“And you trust him? He’s not a spy?”

“You mean for the queen?” When Victor nodded, Bryn smiled and shook her head. “No, milord. I don’t think so. I’ve known Feist since before we both began working for the crown; we adventured together.”

“All right. Well, that’s good, ‘cause I don’t want you working twenty-four hours a day. Well, let’s see here. What first?” Victor rubbed his chin as he stooped to pick up his marble-sized vault, hanging it around his neck. He badly needed a shave. “I’ll get cleaned up. I need you to set up a few meetings—the queen, Trobban, and Draj Haveshi. I assume he’s the one who’s mostly been running things?”

“I believe so, milord.”

“All right, and you can cut that shit out while we’re alone—the ‘milords,’ I mean. Come on, Bryn. You’re like my number two on this planet; you can call me Victor.”

She nodded sharply, her well-tanned, scarred cheeks coloring just a little. “Understood.”

Victor grinned. “You weren’t worried, were you? Did you think some schemers managed to lock me up in that vault?”

“Not exactly worried, mil—Victor, but a bit anxious.” She smiled and nodded again. “I’m pleased to see you’re well.”

“More than well, Bryn! Now let’s get going!” Victor clapped his hands, chuckling as she practically jumped toward the door. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” As she hurried out, Victor took a minute to replace the furniture he’d stored away, then took a long, luxurious shower. He soaked in the hot, steamy water that fell from a vaulted, twenty-foot ceiling, scrubbing with woodsy soap. He shaved with a blade that felt sharp enough to split atoms and lemon-scented cream that he found sitting ready for him before a magically fog-free mirror.

Once he’d dressed and stepped out of his bedroom, he found the first of his appointments—Trobban, the artificer—sitting at his table. “At long last! Lord Victor!” The man jumped to his feet, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Trobban. I hope you kept yourself busy while I was…occupied.”

“I have, milord! At great expense to myself, I’ve completed the skeletal structure of Lady Arona’s new vessel. While she and I agreed on the optimal components, I haven’t the means to acquire them all, so I’ve been eager to meet with you again.”

Victor nodded, gesturing to the table. “Please, retake your seat.” Once they were both sitting, he said, “Tell me about the skeleton.”

“The skeleton? Oh, for the vessel! Yes, yes! I’ve been painstakingly growing the bones from a crystal lattice. It’s a costly process, both in terms of Energy and materials, but when I had the Golemancer Class, I learned many tricks to perfect the process. I’ve completed the structure, matching Arona’s exacting specifications for size and shape.”

“Um, about that—what did she decide as far as her…appearance goes?”

“She wants to maintain a similar aspect to the vessel she lost—her natural one. I convinced her to increase her size slightly, insisting it would make her more formidable and durable, though adding to the cost.”

Victor nodded slowly. “And the bones? They’re crystal?”

“A living crystal lattice, milord. It’s wonderfully versatile stuff and more than capable of housing epic-tier pathways and supporting a similarly powerful body.” He frowned and began to wring his hands as he added, “It’s just a matter of the cost. I’m out of pocket—”

“How much?”

“Nearly five million standard beads, milord.”

Victor tried to hide his reaction, shifting in his seat as he frowned. “For the skeleton?”

“Yes, milord. The reason I’m eager for reimbursement is that I’ve got a line on a perfect heart for the vessel, but the fellow who’s selling it isn’t willing to take installments—”

Victor abruptly stood, shoving his chair back noisily. “Hang on.” He walked over to the door and opened it, finding Bryn standing near the gilt, black-enameled elevator doors. “Hey, Bryn, did you get ahold of Draj?”

“Yes, milord, he’s due at the top of the hour.” When Victor raised an eyebrow, she added, “In about thirty minutes.”

“Tell him I need him now. I need some information about the duchy’s treasury.”

“Yes, milord!” Bryn turned and pressed the elevator call button, and Victor rejoined Trobban at the table.

“We’ll have some funding information soon. Tell me about some of the items you need to acquire.”

“Yes, of course, milord. As I said, there’s a fellow selling a heart crafted from the heartwood of a Mowpanian Elder Tree. A steel-seeking Animancer constructed it as part of her journey of enlightenment, and though she never used it, I believe it would be the perfect source of vitality for Arona’s new vessel.”

“And the man selling it? What does he want?”

“He’s seeking similarly powerful artifacts of dense Energy suitable for the crafting of an epic-tier automaton Core—or ten million beads.”

“Won’t Arona’s new body need an object like that?”

“Yes, milord, but I haven’t a line on anything suitable yet.”

Victor frowned and leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. “I mean, you must have some ideas for Cores. Is there anything on this planet that would work, or are we forced to trade for it from people who’ve been collecting artifacts all over the universe?”

“For a Core?” Victor saw Trobban’s eyes dart toward the windows to his balcony. “There are indeed treasures on Ruhn that would be suitable. In fact, there’s a source rather nearby…”

“Don’t hesitate, man! What is it?”

“Well, Iron Mountain, milord. A crystal recovered from one of the mines nearly thirty years ago was of suitable Energy density. I believe the King of Xan gifted it to one of the great houses—”

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“Only one?”

“Only one so far, aye. At least, as far as public knowledge goes—” He cut his words short as a knock sounded at the door.

“Come,” Victor called.

A moment later, Draj Haveshi was striding toward the table. He bowed deeply as he walked, and then, when he was just a few feet from Victor, he lowered himself to his knees. “I am at your service, Your Grace. My family is eternally grateful to serve. When the queen delivered your pardons and requests for temporary service, it was like a reprieve from the heavens. We—”

“Draj, stand up and have a seat with us, please. I don’t need you to profess your loyalty any further.” On the surface, Victor thought Draj sounded fake. He almost seemed like an actor performing on stage, but something deeper, something that spoke from the depths of his bones, told him this man wasn’t a threat. Victor wondered if it was the wisdom of his ancestors helping him to prioritize his focus.

“As you say, milord.” Draj, wearing a fine gray and white suit with the yellow rose of Gloria stitched beside the gray, snow-capped peak of Iron Mountain’s coat of arms, stood, bowed again, and sat across from Trobban.

“Have you met Trobban, Draj? He’s a master Artificer and happens to be working on some very important projects for me.”

“No, milord.” Draj stood and stretched out his hand. Trobban nearly knocked his chair over in his haste to stand and take the man’s hand, clearly unused to being in such vaunted company.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, um, Lord Haveshi.”

“A pleasure to meet you, fine sir. I am, however, no longer a lord.” Draj shrugged and chuckled. “Might I inquire as to the nature of the, ah, projects?”

Victor answered for Trobban. “No. Sorry, Draj, but they’re of a personal nature. Even so, I believe the duchy and Gloria as a whole will benefit greatly from their completion. Eventually.” Victor felt like he was being at least mostly honest—Arona was a powerful entity, and if she found herself indebted to the people of Iron Mountain, he knew she’d feel obligated to even the scales.

Draj didn’t argue. “Of course, milord! What aids you aids the duchy. How might I be of service?”

“Well, I was going to meet with you about the duchy’s economic standing. I keep hearing about the wealth, and it’s apparent everywhere I look, but I’d like to wrap my head around the big picture. Before you give me all the details, however, let’s deal with the small part that might impact Trobban.”

“Of course, milord. Only ask, and I will provide the answer.”

Victor nodded, thumping a heavy hand on the table as he looked from Trobban to Draj. “First, there’s the matter of Trobban’s operating fund. While I was…indisposed, he was forced to fund my projects from his own pockets. He’s owed nearly five million standard beads. Can you arrange a disbursement for him?”

“Ahem,” Draj held a fist to his mouth, perhaps trying to cover his reaction. After only a slight hesitation, though, he nodded. “Of course, milord. There are sufficient discretionary funds for such a payment; however, I would greatly appreciate some advance notice if you believe you’ll need continued payments of such…magnitude. You see, there are ongoing projects in the duchy, and many departments clamoring for increases in their budgets, and unplanned expenses can greatly impact those sorts of—”

Victor waved a hand. “Draj, I completely understand. I’ll do my best to give you more warning in the future.” Victor looked at Trobban. “That goes for you, too, Trobban. Give me a chance to prepare before you incur such expenses going forward.”

“Yes, milord!” Trobban bent forward, trying to bow in his chair, nearly placing his forehead on the tabletop.

“Draj, what do you know of—” Victor turned to Trobban. “What was that crystal called?”

“I believe the King of Xan named it the Azurite Star, sir.”

Draj nodded, looking from Trobban to Victor. “That’s right. It was pulled from Iron Mountain close to half a century ago. Duke Qi Pot gave it to King Groff, who gifted it to the Queen of Kuria, seeking her favor and financial aid to break Lovania’s blockade, cutting Xan off from trading across the Horizon Sea.”

Victor nodded, waving his hand. “I get that. Basically, it’s out of our reach, right? Over on the eastern continent?”

“Yes, milord. I’m not sure what Queen Livessa has done with it, but she wouldn’t part with it easily.”

“Right, but it came from Iron Mountain, yeah?”

“Indeed, Your Grace, but that shaft was closed when the mountain expressed its displeasure.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

“It’s quite well documented, milord. The Argonthall Shaft, named after the baron who founded it, was one of the deeper mining operations, dug to follow a shaft of heart iron. It operated for nearly four decades and provided tremendous wealth and treasure to the duchy. When they took the Azurite Star from those depths, the mountain rumbled, collapsing part of the shaft and threatening an eruption that would destroy most of Xan. The earth and fire Elementalists from across the kingdom, along with several from neighboring nations, had to work for more than a year to calm its fury.”

Victor nodded, grinning. “So, the mountain isn’t as deeply asleep as it seems. Are there Elementalists currently working to keep it docile?”

Again, Draj nodded. “The Order of the Mountain, Your Grace. They maintain their hermitage midway up the slopes in a great cave they’ve built into a temple of sorts.”

Victor looked at Trobban. “I’ll work on the issue we discussed. In the meantime, is there anything you can do to move the project forward?”

Trobban nodded emphatically. “Yes, milord! Once I’ve been reimbursed, I’ll be able to acquire some of the lesser artifacts I’ll need for the, um…” He glanced at Draj, then shrugged and simply said, “Project.”

“Good. Leave us for now—Draj and I need to speak about the duchy. I’ll call for you before I leave.”

“Leave?” Both men asked. Draj looked at Trobban, a slight scowl of irritation marring his usual diplomatic poise. Trobban simply looked down, stammering an apology.

“Yeah, leave. I have things to do, men. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch, and the queen has given me one of her, uh, portal magicians.”

Trobban’s eyes widened. “Ah, a Spatial Magus?”

“Is that their official title?”

Draj replied before Trobban could. “It’s their Class, Your Grace. It’s a well-kept secret of the royal families—the path to that Class.”

“Not that other Classes cannot create portals or teleport…”

Draj spoke over Trobban, “But none quite so well as the Spatial Magi.”

Victor didn’t want another rabbit-hole discussion. “All right. Speak to you soon, Trobban.” He watched the man scurry out of his seat, bowing low, then hurrying out the door. He looked at Draj. “How much money does this duchy make every month?”

“Well, sir, that’s a rather complicated question, and there are many variables—”

“Ballpark.” Victor groaned at himself. “I mean, give me a general idea—a rough average.”

Draj frowned, clearly uneasy with Victor’s bluntness, but he closed his eyes briefly and then began to rattle off an answer, “Profits from the mine leases come close to twenty million most months. Tax revenue from land grants and agricultural goods easily amount to another ten million. Market taxes from the city vary but range between three and seven million. Port and passage fees on the Green River are usually nearly a million beads per month.” Draj frowned, rubbing his chin as he thought. “There are the hunting permits and dungeon licenses, building permits…” He sighed and shook his head. “I’d need to get my books, milord, if you want more details. Roughly, though, I’d say, altogether, close to forty million beads per month.”

“And how much goes to the crown?”

“Queen Dar has lowered our tribute from nine percent to seven.”

“Oh? Good.” Victor nodded and gestured expansively. “Look, I know all of this is expensive. But you have to level with me. How much will that five million to Trobban impact the treasury?”

“Sir, per the policy set by Qi Pot, we maintain a treasury capable of paying the duchy’s expenses for three years. Beyond that, we have a discretionary fund of nearly ten million beads. I know it sounds like a great sum, milord, but there are many petitions for many projects, and there are never enough beads to go around. For instance, the duchy maintains not only this palace but also dozens of other governmental buildings, which are in constant need of maintenance and updating. Roads and riverways require—”

“Relax, Draj.” Victor tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m not planning to drain the treasury dry. I just want to know what I’m working with.” Victor’s heart wasn’t in the conversation. He desperately wanted to finish his meetings to make his way up to the mountain. More than ever, he felt it was calling him, almost like his duels and the succession war—his reason for coming to Ruhn—had just been a thread of fate drawing him to the real purpose. Iron Mountain had something for him. He wasn’t sure what, but he could feel it, and again, he wondered if his ancestors were guiding him.

“Milord, might I inquire as to your intention for me and mine? From the queen, I understand that you saw purpose in us, a way to employ our talents for the duchy, but nothing has been formalized. I am made a common, landless citizen for the first time in nearly eight decades. I—”

“Draj, what would you suggest if you were in my shoes?”

Draj straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered his words. "Milord, if I were in your position, I would recognize the value of trusted, capable hands to manage the duchy's more… delicate affairs. Your recent ascension has created opportunities, and with them comes the need to solidify control, ensure stability, and foster the duchy's prosperity. As you and Queen Kynna have noted, a man in your position can hardly afford to oversee every aspect personally."

He paused, leaning slightly forward, his voice becoming more deliberate. "As for my family and me, we have decades of experience running estates, managing trade, overseeing mining operations. Though I lack formal holdings now, I have not lost my knowledge or my connections. If you were to grant me a formal title—for Qi Pot, I was seneschal, and I would gladly fill that position for your court—my family could once again serve not just the duchy but you personally, milord."

He glanced up at Victor, gauging his reaction before continuing, "Iron Mountain is vast, and its wealth even more so. It will require skilled management. My talents lie in turning wealth into opportunity, ensuring the duchy's success. And, of course, our loyalty would be undivided, as it has always been."

“A title doesn’t make you a landholder, Draj.”

“True, milord, but you’ve offered us an estate in the city—”

“I’ll do better than that.” Victor paused, thinking. For once, he was happy that he’d sat with Ranish Dar for hours discussing courts, titles, and all the little things he thought he’d never have to deal with as a champion—basically, a glorified gladiator. “I want you to write up a proposal, one that grants the Haveshi family a reasonable portion of the Ducal Demesne—nothing absurd, but enough to ensure you’re respected at court. Provided the proposal is reasonable, and Queen Kynna agrees, I’ll grant your mother the title of Viscountess, and I will formally reinstate you as seneschal.”

Draj leaped to his feet, his chair skittering over the hardwood floors. As soon as he was up, he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. “Lord Sandoval, you honor me and my house. What you propose is beyond what we deserve, and I am humbled by your generosity. I swear, if thy words be true, then we will be true to thee.”

He stayed that way, head on the floor, while Victor mulled over his words. Why had he switched to archaic-sounding language? Had he really said ‘thy’ and ‘thee’? Had he used some old-fashioned words that the System simply translated that way? Victor got so distracted by the tangential thought that it took Draj clearing his throat and swallowing nervously to remind him where he was. “You may stand, Draj. Go now and discuss things with your family. I’ll review your proposal when you’re ready.”

Draj thanked him at least five more times before he slipped through the door. Meanwhile, Victor contemplated the mountain. He could feel it pulling him like it was a magnet, and he was an iron filing. It couldn’t be a simple coincidence that something Arona needed was deep in the mountain’s guts. He knew the pull was more than that, however. There was a connection there, and it was personal—not just a piece of treasure for a friend.

He sat there at the head of his table, staring out the window at the distant blue-gray peak for a long time, so lost in thought that he hardly noticed the shifting of the shadows as the sun moved through the sky. When Bryn knocked on the door, and he was startled out of his self-imposed glamour, he almost felt like he’d been asleep. “Come,” he barked, his voice rough in his dry throat.

The door swung open, and Bryn announced, “Her Majesty, Queen Kynna Dar is here to see you, milord.”

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