After Merrie

The new commander arrived in Merrie and summoned Pine, May, and Serena — the three strongest assets his unit had. Commander Samuel didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“The claim’s secured.” His eyes settled on Pine. “Now. Tell me about the mercenary.”

“Physically, I’d say he’s as skilled as any hired blade you’d find.” Pine chose his words with more care than usual. “But his diplomacy — that wasn’t ordinary. The way he carried himself at the negotiating table, the manners underneath it all — I’d guess he came from a family with some real standing, once. He wraps all of it in short jokes, sarcasm, the kind that lands more often than it should. I never saw him actually fight, so I can’t tell you more than that.”

“I felt nothing from him. No fluctuation, no overflow of mana, no magical signature at all.” Serena’s arms were crossed, unease plain on her face. “That’s not normal. Trust me — as a mage, I’m telling you, that’s deeply wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter either way. He’s already dead.” Samuel said it without much interest. “The crown sent twenty-five men — not some rabble, real quality — to kill him. Should be finished by now, out in that forest.”

May was already moving before he finished the sentence — a horse seized, reins in hand, gone.

“What are you doing, May!” Samuel called after her. She didn’t slow.

“Follow her.” Samuel exhaled hard, more irritation than concern in his voice.

What drove May wasn’t loyalty, and it wasn’t concern for Piccaron’s life. She wanted to see, with her own eyes, how this man actually fought. Her gaze narrowed as the treeline opened ahead of her — and what met her there was something almost obscene in its beauty, sunlight fractured through the canopy, forcing its way through gaps in the branches like it had something to prove.

Piccaron stood in the middle of it all, a look in his eyes May had never seen on anyone before — something close to satisfaction, threaded through with birdsong and the low hush of wind moving through leaves. He was drenched in blood. A handful of shallow cuts marked his cheek, sweat gathering at his brow and sliding down to his chin.

“May. Have you come to say goodbye? You never did, you know.” His stare softened, that same small smile surfacing again — the one she was starting to recognize as simply him.

“There’s a story that circulates through the Golden Cloud.” Her voice was steady despite everything around her. “About a young man from Baum Goldenir that even the guild’s highest-ranked members are told to be careful of. A man the guildmaster himself took in — raised almost as a son. Piccaron. I rode as fast as this horse could carry me, and I still wasn’t in time to see what you’re actually capable of.”

“I’ve never killed one of the Golden Cloud. There’s no conflict between us.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “May. Go. If you come any closer, I’ll have to—“

The sound of hooves — Samuel, Pine, and Serena, closing fast — reached her ears before he finished.

“Goodbye.” She said it plainly, and turned her horse.

Piccaron only smiled in answer.

By the time Samuel, Pine, and Serena arrived, Piccaron was already gone. May sat there in silence, something heavy behind her eyes.

“These wounds.” Pine crouched beside one of the fallen. “This was fast. Every cut, every thrust — clean. This is genuinely terrifying work.”

“No trace of magic anywhere in this.” Serena moved between the bodies, methodical despite the horror of it. “Whatever did this was pure force. Nothing more.”

“The crown just made a very serious mistake.” Samuel’s gaze swept the clearing, the words landing flat and final.

In a house of quiet standing, somewhere along the border between the kingdoms of Marina and Timurr —

“You truly do live up to your reputation, Mr. Marauder.” The man across the table carried himself like a commander — a man used to giving orders, not receiving them. He’d come with only a single guard. This meeting was meant to stay buried.

“A pity, Lord Harrington.” Marauder’s voice was clipped, without warmth.

“You tried to have one of Baum’s men killed. You imagine you’re the first to attempt something so foolish?” He let the silence sit a moment before continuing. “The loss here is entirely yours. Beyond the compensation already owed — which is more than generous — you’re barred from our services for the next fifteen years. Good luck holding onto that little city of yours. Good luck with your kingdom, while you’re at it.”

Marauder collected the payment and left without another word.

Lord Harrington said nothing. Cold sweat had already begun to gather at his temple, unnoticed even by himself. Somewhere beneath the composure, he understood — he had made a mistake that would not be easily undone.