When Corvus and his warriors approached the Bahoz, the first thing that greeted them was the new city walls, whose silhouette now dominated the city. On their previous visit, they had only seen the excavated foundations of this structure, but it had now begun to transform into rising stone walls. The stone blocks glimmered in a pale gray hue under the daylight; even though the mortar between them had not yet dried, it already promised solidity. They were entirely different from Rhazgord’s traditional timber walls—less vulnerable, less primitive. Although these new structures couldn’t compete with the grandeur and layered height of the walls of Rax city, they were a revolutionary step compared to Rhazgord’s old defensive mindset. Inside the walls stretched a vast space, not yet filled. The vision of streets still unpaved and buildings yet to be erected hung suspended in this area. In time, this space would fill with homes, shops, and people’s stories; Bahoz would grow within its walls.

  The construction site was bustling with activity. Hands carrying stones, bodies mixing mortar, and foremen shouting directions to one another—all were men and women whose skins bore the marks of Rhazgord’s harsh climate. This was the scene Corvus wanted to witness: Rhazgordians working, producing, building the future. Employment was a rare blessing in a place like Rhazgord. A young man either became a warrior or, if lucky enough, an apprentice to a small craftsman. But the rapidly growing population had clogged both paths. This construction in Bahoz, like other projects, had opened a new path for hundreds of Rhazgordians who were squeezing despair with their bare hands. Here, not only stones were being placed, but lives as well.

  The second notable change in Bahoz was the increased activity around the city walls. Watchmen clad in leather armor, carrying long spears on their backs, scanned the surroundings every few steps with alert eyes… The number of patrolling soldiers in the city had noticeably increased. Now, not only the walls but the city surroundings were enveloped in an atmosphere of order and discipline. The reason for this increase was a critical decision made at the last Tribal Council: security forces in all cities of Rhazgord were to be doubled. Although this decision was made in the name of security on the surface, it also concealed a deeper political balance. All of Rhazgord’s four major cities, three were under the direct control of certain tribes, and if those tribes tried to shape city forces according to their interests, civil war would be inevitable. Thus, the number of city soldiers was adjusted in a way that wouldn’t suppress the tribes’ power but would still maintain order. Otherwise, according to Rhazgord’s laws, the Tiamats would intervene and have the authority to eliminate both the city and its ruling tribe—a measure that had only been taken twice in history but whose impact lasted for centuries.

  These new security forces had a dual purpose: to maintain order within the city and defend against external threats during peacetime; and to support the Rhazgord army and defend cities during wartime. Yet in Corvus’s eyes, this increase in soldiers was not only a precaution but also an opportunity. Bahoz, in appearance, was under the governance of the Laraz tribe; but Rasur’s leash was in Corvus’s hands. As long as that bond remained, the city was effectively under Corvus’s control. Although forming a large army in Bahoz was not among Corvus’s short-term plans, the presence of a well-trained force hidden in reserve for hard times gave him strength. In the event of unrest or political turbulence, Bahoz’s soldiers would act as shadows carrying out his silent commands. Power, more often than not, must exist without being displayed—and Corvus had learned this well.

  Corvus first walked slowly toward the construction site. At the base of the walls, among the piles of stone and cauldrons of mortar, some of the workers didn’t recognize him at first. But a few who recognized his face began to whisper his name. The whispers soon spread like a wave; rolled-up sleeves and sweaty foreheads paused their labor and turned their attention. Within minutes, Corvus was surrounded by a crowd.

  Without him saying a word, and though no one voiced it out loud, everyone knew: the one who had brought Bahoz to its current state was Corvus. The walls, the expanding streets, the new job opportunities—the power behind them was his. Gratitude was written on the faces of the people. There was a silent thank in their gazes, and in some, traces of hope. Corvus dismounted from his horse, his armor making a brief echo as it hit the stone ground. He approached a few workers from the crowd, touching some on the shoulder, listening to questions from others. He asked not only about the rise of the walls but also about the general state of the city and the people’s complaints. His face bore the shadow of genuine curiosity.

  Baldrek, standing at a distance, watched the scene silently. His eyes were focused on his friend’s face. He wondered whether Corvus had an ulterior motive behind all this attention. But he knew him—he wasn’t asking to gain popularity; he was asking with genuine concern. Baldrek could sense the sincerity in his friend’s focus; this was no act of a pretentious leader.

  Among the builders was a group that stood out: men who, by their appearance, skin color, and manner of speech, were clearly not Rhazgordian. Brought from distant lands during the war against the three kingdom by Corvus’s orders, these men and their families were once full of fear and distrust. But over time, they seemed to have grown accustomed to these lands. They received their wages on time and were treated fairly. No longer did they try to escape or glance around nervously. They still kept a certain distance from Corvus, but the ice in their eyes had melted, and the invisible wall between them had nearly vanished.

  As Corvus’s presence spread across the site, a few guards soon joined the crowd. Their uniforms were new, their postures upright. In the middle of the crowd, on the warm stones, this gathering almost took on a festive air. Workers pulled out their rations and offered them to Corvus—some shared their bread, others handed over water flasks. Some sighed and said, “Ah, if only there were some Red Beer!” wishing to make the special moment even merrier. The wall construction briefly came to a halt, but no one complained about the break.

  Over this warm scene, a group of riders approached down the dusty road. At their head was Rasur, the governor of Bahoz. The end of his cloak fluttered in the wind, and each step of his horse left a mark in the dirt. As they got closer, Rasur immediately dismounted, and the surrounding crowd parted out of respect. He walked down the cleared path toward Corvus.

  “I hope your journey went smoothly.” he said, his voice measured and respectful.

  Corvus stood up, brushed the dust off his armor with the back of his hand, and smiled. He shook Rasur’s hand and replied in a firm, assured voice:

  “There were some small issues, but we handled them.”

  When the workers realized Corvus was about to leave, they dispersed with reluctant sighs. Some struggled to avert their gaze, while others remained a few steps back, trying to listen to the conversation between Rasur and Corvus. But with the shrill shouts of the foremen, everyone returned to work; stones were carried, mortar mixed, and the sound of hammers echoed once again. Corvus, Rasur, and the warriors accompanying them slowly made their way into the city.

  As they entered the inner streets of Bahoz, the scenery had changed somewhat. The large marketplace rising in the heart of the city was now complete; with its stone-paved square, wooden stalls, and empty but prepared shelves, it was ready to become the new center of commerce. The buildings added beside the academy had reached halfway in their construction; stone skeletons rose, and walls were being built. Bahoz was changing its face. Rhazgord’s suffocating, narrow, and greenery-deprived urban texture now only appeared in distant corners. The city’s main roads were paved with neat stones, the streets enlivened with decorative elements. Lighting, small gardens, and bench-lined areas now reflected Bahoz’s new identity.

  But the most striking part of this renewal was the statue rising at the end of the market road, leading toward the city square. The stone-carved figure was not yet complete but had begun to take shape. The sculptors Corvus had brought from Rax months ago had finally started their work; it seemed the chief sculptor couldn’t restrain his inspiration any longer and had begun without waiting for Corvus’s order. The figure taking shape in the stone seemed to symbolize strength and determination. Though the facial features weren’t fully formed yet, it wasn’t hard to guess who it resembled.

  As Corvus continued riding, he suddenly turned back and called out to Baldrek. His voice was calm but commanding.

  “Take the goods we brought from Rax to Rasur's mansion. Then hand out some money to the warriors and tell them their work is done.”

  He turned round to make eye contact with Baldrek.

  “Then take a look at the great smithy that's being built. I'd like to hear what you think. Meet me at Rasur's mansion when you're done.”

  Baldrek nodded and guided his horse. The elite warriors who had accompanied Corvus on his journey to Rax had now completed their mission. Among them were Tiamat guards and Rhazgord soldiers. Now they were in Bahoz—safe, visible, with no need for show. These warriors, who stood not just behind their leader but in front of him when necessary, accepted the money with a smile. After their work was done some intended to rest their weary bodies in Bahoz’s inns; others decided to return to their families in Sorbaj, whom they missed.

  “Where is Baral?”

  Corvus’s voice was cold but clear. He asked this question without looking at Rasur, who was riding beside him.

  “I’ll summon him once we arrive at the mansion.” said Rasur. His tone was soft, but cautious.

  Corvus slowly shook his head. His eyes were on the city streets, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

  “No.” he said. His voice suddenly turned sharp, with a tone that left no room for argument.

  “There are matters I must discuss with him as soon as possible. Take me to him.”

  Rasur lowered his head and silently accepted the order. They changed direction and made their way toward an opulent building just behind the city square. The sides of the stone-paved path leading to the entrance were adorned with flowers blooming in season-appropriate colors. Marble columns and bronze-embellished lanterns added grandeur to the entrance. A large, eye-catching sign read “Baral’s Place”. A second sign, written in the Adler tongue, repeated the name in elegant lettering.

  This building was Baral’s most valuable investment in Bahoz. This inn, built by stonemasons and carpenters specially brought in from all corners of the continent, served both as a luxurious lodging and as a meeting point for wealthy merchants visiting the city. Baral also lived here and controlled the city’s financial lifeblood from within these walls.

  After Corvus and Rasur secured their horses at the special tying area at the entrance, they stepped inside. The ground floor was spacious; elegant tables placed on marble flooring were covered in high-quality fabrics and decorated with gold-toned details. The people seated around the tables sipped drinks from silver-coated goblets and spoke in hushed tones, careful not to disturb the sophistication of the ambiance. A soft melody filled the space, emanating from the delicate touch of a musician seated in a corner.

  At a small but elegant reception desk beside the stairs sat a tall Rhazgordian woman with dark chestnut hair. Her refined facial features, striking green eyes, and stylish yet modest attire seemed to represent the inn’s quality. Without sparing her a single glance, Corvus and Rasur made their way to the stairs. The woman rose instantly and greeted them politely, but made no further attempt to intervene. She knew who they were. The thought of stopping them hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  Ascending the staircase bordered by ornate railings, Corvus and Rasur reached the top floor and approached the large door at the end of the stone corridor. On either side of the door stood two motionless guards clad in the heavy leather armor of Rhazgord. These men belonged to Baral’s private security unit. They had been appointed on Corvus’s orders—for Baral, who managed Bahoz’s economic lifelines, was a non-negotiable security priority for Corvus.

  Without a word from the guards, the door opened. The room inside was spacious; the walls were adorned with maps akin to works of art, bookshelves, and showcases crafted with intricate workmanship. The most striking feature was the large glass window, which overlooked Bahoz’s expansive square. The ornately carved desk made from dark walnut wood in front of the window clearly belonged to Baral. But the person sitting behind this luxurious desk was not Baral.

  The woman at the desk was in her early twenties, with cascading black curls and sparkling hazel eyes. Her facial features were delicate, her expression sharp. Her beauty was such that even famed figures like Kaelyra or Ilyada would envy it. But to Corvus, only one detail mattered: he didn’t know this woman.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  His eyes narrowed. His swords flashed from their scabbards like lightning, and he leapt into action. Before the woman could even grasp what was happening, Corvus’s twin blades were crossed at her neck like a deadly pair of scissors. Locking eyes with Corvus’s crimson gaze was like staring into death itself.

  “Who are you?!”

  Corvus’s voice echoed through the four corners of the room. The harshness of the Rhazgord tongue lent a stone-like weight to the words. The young woman trembled with terror. Her eyes showed both fear and confusion. The words that escaped her mouth seemed caught in her throat.

  “I don’t understand… Please… don’t kill me!”

  Hearing the woman speak in the Adler tongue, Corvus pressed his blades tighter—until Rasur intervened.

  “Calm down, Corvus!” he said, his voice slightly shaking.

  “She’s Baral’s daughter! She just arrived in the city…”

  Corvus’s eyes shifted from the woman to the documents on the table. He immediately recognized them: the draft of the new tax system, details of the planned trade alliance with the Kingdom of Adler… These were vital documents known only to a handful of people and kept in strict secrecy. It was obvious that the stack also contained other strategic papers of similar importance.

  Corvus slowly withdrew his swords. But his fury had not subsided. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes still held a glinting threat.

  “Get me the fucking Baral now!” he said to Rasur, his voice now more menacing.

  Without objecting to Corvus’s harsh command, Rasur turned to the door. His face had gone pale. He understood perfectly well why Corvus was so angry. Baral wasn’t just the mastermind behind the current economic system—he was also the silent partner of all Corvus’s future plans. The premature exposure of those documents could render those plans worthless.

  As Rasur stormed out of the room, his steps were like flashes of lightning. The guards outside the door had to step back. Rasur’s voice was firm and commanding, though laced with a fear he could not hide. “Find Baral!” he growled through gritted teeth. “Search everywhere! Check every hole! Bring me that fat bastard now!” Because any delay could cost not only Baral his head, but also Rasur. Losing Corvus’s trust was the same as being forgotten in this city—and buried in its soil.

  Not even a minute had passed since Rasur’s departure when a familiar figure appeared at the open door. The round, sweaty silhouette emerging from the corridor was none other than Baral himself. His belly led the way, his feet barely supporting his weight. There was no urgency or caution in his steps. He wore a yellowish tunic that shimmered like the morning sun, golden chains hung from his neck, and his face carried the relaxed expression of someone heading to a picnic. When he saw Corvus, his face lit up. His lips stretched into a grin, and even the crumbs left between his teeth from breakfast seemed to tremble with joy.

  He lumbered inside and, with theatrical flair, dropped to his knees. As his massive body slumped to the floor, it wasn’t bones but flesh that made a sound. He placed his hands on his chest and prepared to speak with melodramatic flair—but then he heard it. Sobs. Weak, helpless… yet familiar to Baral. It was his daughter crying. Ellsa.

  His expression changed instantly. His brows furrowed, his mouth hung open. When he lifted his head, he met Corvus’s eyes. Red… glowing… and this time not just commanding—but lethal. Cold sweat poured down Baral’s back. His temples throbbed. “Oh no!” he thought.

  “That look can’t mean anything good.”

  Just as he was about to raise his hands and cry out, “What sin have I committed, O mighty lord?” he suddenly felt steel at his throat. The sword rested over his windpipe like a chilling omen of death.

  “Any last words, Baral?”

  Corvus’s voice was more hoarse, more hollow, and more final than ever. A thousand thoughts collided in Baral’s mind. He raised his hands, his eyes bulging.

  “My lord! My mighty lord! Your loyal servant, the bent shadow of your radiance, the greatest admirer of your magnificence—me, Baral—I do not understand why you wish to end my poor life! What is my sin, O most exalted one?”

  He gestured to himself with his hands, bowed his head, then quickly lifted it again, trying to glance sideways at his daughter.

  “If something went wrong with the agreement with Prince Belisarius, we’ll draft a new one right away! That kingdom… that prince, they’re nothing. You give the word, and I’ll prepare thousands of contracts! Just let me keep my head!”

  “Shut your fucking mouth!”

  Baral’s jaw dropped. Corvus’s voice physically pushed him back. Baral tried to stay upright on his knees but lost balance and nearly toppled over. He lowered his head, then lifted it again quickly. Panic had escalated, but he still clung to the hope of speaking. His eyes were slightly wet, his lips trembling…

  His brain worked at full capacity under fear and adrenaline. His eyes darted from the documents to his crying daughter. A theory began forming in his mind.

  “My lord! Lord of lords! Of course… perhaps my daughter meddling with the documents has upset you, but… but allow me to say something… please.”

  He lowered his voice to a near whisper, as if unveiling a hidden treasure.

  “I never told you before, but I didn’t prepare these documents entirely on my own. My intellect is vast, my vision deep, of course… but economics is no simple matter. I confess—I sought help from a few brilliant minds. A genius like you must have noticed!”

  Corvus’s expression didn’t change, but Baral kept talking. He clung to his words as if they were lifelines, adorning and polishing them.

  “My daughter… Ellsa, that crying angel there… she’s one of those brilliant minds. She studied at the most prestigious academy of my hometown! She’s so clever… even I’m afraid of her! She gave the final touch to most of the documents I presented to you. But I swear! By the gods, by you, by the heavens—I swear! Not a single word has leaked! She’s my own flesh and blood—she would never betray! In fact… if you wish, I’ll bring her forward to kneel before you myself!”

  He bowed his head to the floor. His nose touched the ground. Perhaps it had been years since he’d bent so low. With sweat, tongue, and greasy cheek, he begged for one more chance. Corvus watched this theatrical display closely.

  Corvus slowly sheathed his sword in heavy silence. Even the dull “shhhk” of the metal slipping into its scabbard did little to ease the tension in the room. Baral, as if waiting for this moment, moved with surprising speed, almost lifting off the ground, and darted around the desk. His large belly swayed as he quickly approached his daughter. Arms outstretched like a protective bear, he positioned himself in front of Ellsa. Corvus remained silent. For a while, he said nothing; his gaze was purely observational. The girl seemed to have composed herself. Her sobs had ceased, though her eyes were still damp. Her slender shoulders trembled, her hands clasped together behind her father.

  “Enough.” Corvus finally said, his voice as sharp as a blade.

  “Speak, Baral. What does this woman know?”

  His swords were now on his back, but Corvus’s presence still hung over the room like a death sentence.

  The swords were now on his back, but Corvus’s presence still hung over the room like a threat of death. It was as if the sparks in his eyes still lingered at the nape of Baral’s neck. But this time, Baral didn’t waste a second. No exaggerated bows, no crawling on the floor… There was no time left to waste. He quickly and gently sat his daughter in a chair. Placing a hand on Ellsa’s shoulder, he tried to calm her before turning to Corvus. This time, his voice was more measured, more direct.

  “My Lord… As you know, the duties you assigned to me were not only important but also highly complex. And although my mind can grasp many things…” he tilted his head slightly here, gauging Corvus’s reaction, “…there were some matters that I simply could not handle alone.”

  He didn’t fail to observe Corvus’s face from the corner of his eye as he spoke. The contraction of his pupils, the arch of an eyebrow, the tightening of his lips… all were signs for Baral.

  “However, due to the nature of my duties, I had to carry out these assistances in complete secrecy.” he continued, his voice dropping slightly.

  “Therefore… in such critical matters… I couldn’t turn to anyone else but the one person I trust most in this life—my own daughter. We exchanged ideas through a few letters. As soon as her classes ended, I summoned her here to serve you directly. Had I been a traitor, would I have brought my most precious one here with my own hands? I was going to explain everything to you soon anyway, my Lord. It just happened to be today.”

  Corvus carefully studied both Baral and Ellsa without changing his expression. His eyes scanned them at length, unmoving. Baral… He was a shrewd merchant. For the people of Rhazgord, being a merchant was a profession slipperier than a snake’s skin. Words were spoken, oaths sworn, gold flowed—but loyalty was never guaranteed. And Corvus knew this all too well. Still, he trusted Baral—but that trust was not in his heart, but in his greed. To Baral, Corvus was a walking gold mine. And as long as that mine did not run dry, Baral would not betray him. Corvus kept using him because he knew this.

  Besides, his explanation sounded reasonable. Baral did indeed carry a heavy workload. And if his daughter had helped him with these tasks—and if that help was limited to someone loyal only to him—then perhaps he had done something right.

  “Do you have the letters you sent to your daughter?” Corvus asked suddenly.

  Baral instinctively turned to his daughter. In Adler Language, his voice lowered almost to a whisper, he asked where the letters were. Ellsa pointed to her bag with a slightly trembling finger. Baral practically rolled toward it like a ball. His belly scraped the floor, his sweat glued his clothes to his skin. As he opened the bag, his tongue nearly lolled out of his mouth. He quickly pulled out a few folded sheets. Instead of standing up, he crawled back to Corvus and held out the papers.

  Corvus took the documents. As his eyes swiftly scanned the pages, his expression didn’t change. The writing wasn’t encrypted but was quite vague. There were no clear statements about specific issues. The sentences were mostly built around general questions, assumptions, and possibilities. If a stranger read this correspondence, they would see nothing more than a standard business exchange.

  Just then, Baral returned to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out another stack of letters. These were thicker and more densely written. They were Ellsa’s response letters to Baral. Corvus carefully flipped through each one. The pages contained numbers, graphs, theoretical models, and complex formulas. Among the economic terms, Corvus struggled to understand some of it. In fact, he didn’t understand a few sentences at all. The sentences seemed to have been written by an academic—complex, cold, and precise.

  Corvus slowly nodded. His face remained stern, but this motion of his head was a sign of salvation for Baral. Baral sighed as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him. He staggered slightly as if his knees were giving way and returned to his daughter’s side. He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper something to her. As Ellsa wiped her eyes at his words, Baral exhaled again inwardly. Then he gently nudged his daughter’s elbow and motioned for her to step forward.

  Ellsa took a few steps and stood before Corvus. Her posture was upright, but the fear on her face was still clearly visible. Still, her voice was clear, full, and controlled.

  “I am Ellsa Durin. The only daughter of merchant Baral Durin. I have been educated in the arts of politics, economics, mathematics, and philosophy. From this moment on, I am at your service, my Lord.”

  The girl’s gaze was locked into Corvus’s eyes, but behind that bravery was a trembling heart. Corvus, too, nodded slightly in appreciation of her effort. It was as if this gesture announced that both Baral and his daughter had been granted a second chance. He had loosened up a bit now.

  Corvus motioned for the two to sit. Baral immediately sprang into action. Cheerfully rising, he rubbed his hands together and went behind the table. With his thick fingers, he opened the cabinet with glass doors. He took out a dusty, dark brown bottle. “To honor the return of our great Lord, one of my finest spirits!” he declared, beginning to prepare elegant glasses—

  “No need.” Corvus said, short and sharply.

  Baral froze instantly. He slowly placed the glass back. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach beyond his lips. Taking a deep breath, he withdrew. One sentence crossed his mind: “Still alive today.”

  As Baral slowly settled into his chair, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief, trying to regulate his breathing between relief and exhaustion, the room’s heavy wooden door creaked open. It was Rasur who entered. With broad shoulders and furrowed brows, he made no attempt to hide his anger. As he took deep breaths, his eyes locked directly on Baral. He stood at the threshold of the door and fixed his gaze on the back of Baral’s neck. It was the kind of stare that seemed intent on burning a hole through it. Baral was aware of this searing attention; his skin was burning, his neck tight—but he didn’t turn his head or even twitch. He focused all his attention on Corvus’s expression. Only his words mattered now.

  “You’re leaving for the city of Rax as soon as possible, Baral!” Corvus said, his voice solid and clear as stone.

  “The moment you enter the city, head straight to the Red Rock Inn. Make sure you don’t attract too much attention!”

  Baral bowed his head slightly without rolling his eyes. He had expected this order. In fact, this was one of the main reasons he had summoned his daughter. It was certain that a representative would be sent to ensure the agreement signed between the Adler Kingdom and Rhazgord functioned smoothly in practice. Moreover, he had other tasks to take care of in Rax. And he had long predicted that he would be the one assigned this duty. But this mission posed a risk for Baral; he needed someone reliable to handle things in his absence. That’s why he had called Ellsa, placing her at the heart of this complex equation.

  “As you command, sir!” Baral said, his voice clear but carrying a slight tremble. Despite his pudgy build, he tried to stand tall with his chest puffed out. The effort created a strange image—one that mimicked the pride of a merchant and the loyalty of a soldier.

  Corvus slowly nodded and reached for one of the leather-bound folders on his desk. As he did during every visit to Bahoz, he immediately requested a comprehensive report from Baral on the city’s current financial status, the academy’s construction progress, and upcoming projects. The desk was soon covered in scrolls, maps, and sealed documents. As Baral explained the details, his trembling hands occasionally shuffled papers or licked his lips. Yet despite his anxiety, his words were remarkably clear.

  As the conversation continued, Ellsa—who had been silently listening at first—gradually joined in. Her voice was softer than her father’s but much more precise and firm. Though she had arrived in Bahoz only a few days ago, her input was surprisingly on point. Her grasp of the topics and analytical thinking ability impressed everyone in the room. Every sentence that came from her mouth reflected the value of her education—structured, constructive, and reassuring. Corvus listened to her for a while. There was a quiet admiration in him, like a miner who had just discovered a gem.