Pyra 3, Imperial Year 1644
Blackstone Fortress, Valdria – Morning
Blackstone was not a castle. It was a fortress – low, thick walls of dark granite, a single iron gate, and towers studded with crossbowmen. The valley around it was barren, stripped of trees to deny cover to attackers.
The class approached in a column, but not a battle formation. Elara had decided on diplomacy first. Behind her walked Reinhard, Orin, Roderick, and Rosalind. The rest waited on a ridge a quarter mile away, visible but not threatening.
Lord Voss met them at the gate. He was a thin man with a pointed beard and small, watery eyes. His velvet coat was too fine for the morning chill. His expression was cold, his voice flat.
"Prince Orin," Voss said, bowing stiffly. "I did not expect such a highborn mediator."
"These are my friends," Orin said. "They have come for the fox."
"Talia." Voss's eyes flickered – something unreadable. "She is comfortable. Expensive, but comfortable."
"We're here to negotiate her release," Elara said.
Voss looked her up and down. "You are the leader of this… troupe?"
"I am."
"And what do you offer? Ten thousand gold is the price."
"We don't have ten thousand gold," Rosalind said. "But we have something better."
Voss raised an eyebrow. "Better than gold?"
"Information." Rosalind stepped forward. "The Free Cities are about to lower tariffs on Valdrian goods. Your demand for lower tariffs will be met within the month – not because of you, but because the Council is already negotiating with King Theodric."
Voss's expression did not change. But then, slowly, he smiled. Not a thin, unpleasant smile – a genuine one.
"Finally," he said. "I can stop pretending."
He turned to a guard standing nearby. "Thomas, please open the gates. And would you ask Cook to prepare the venison? The one with the honey glaze."
The guard blinked, then bowed. "At once, my lord."
"And Thomas?" Voss added, his voice softer. "Thank you. I know you stood in the cold for three hours. There's warm mulled wine in the kitchen – help yourself."
The guard's stern face cracked into a small smile. "Thank you, my lord."
Voss turned back to the stunned class. "Forgive the theatrics. I had to maintain the act. The merchants who backed Talia's kidnapping are still out there. If they knew I was sympathetic, they'd have her killed."
Elara blinked. "You're… not holding her for ransom?"
"I am holding her for her own protection." Voss led them through the gates. "Her family owes me nothing. The ten thousand gold was a fiction to keep the real kidnappers at bay. I've been feeding her, housing her, and waiting for someone to come who actually cared."
Pyra 3, Imperial Year 1644
Blackstone Fortress – The Great Hall
The hall was warm, lit by a roaring fire. Servants moved quietly, setting out bread, cheese, and mulled wine. Voss dismissed his guards with a wave – but not before thanking each by name.
"Elara, you've been on your feet since dawn. Rest."
"Marcus, your wife's cough – did the healer visit?"
"Lydia, those scones are magnificent. You've outdone yourself."
The servants smiled, nodded, moved with ease. There was no fear in their eyes.
"You are not what I expected," Reinhard said.
"No one expects a kind lord." Voss sat at the head of the table. "I inherited this fortress from my father. He was a brute. I decided to be something else. It took years to earn their trust. Now they'd die for me – and I for them."
A maid entered, curtsying. "My lord, Lady Talia is dressed and asking to see the guests."
"Of course. Please escort her here. And Elara – take the side stairs. The main hall is drafty."
The maid smiled and left.
Talia entered a moment later. She was thin, but her fur was clean, her eyes clear. She wore a simple blue dress, not rags. Behind her walked another maid, carrying a tray of fresh fruit.
"Talia!" Celia ran to her.
Talia smiled – tired, but genuine. "They treated me well. Lord Voss is not my enemy."
Voss nodded. "She has been my guest for three months. I've been trying to find a way to return her safely. When Prince Orin sent word that you were coming, I knew the time had come to drop the mask."
"Then the hostility at the gate…" Rosalind began.
"An act. The real kidnappers have spies everywhere. If they thought I was cooperating with you, they'd have moved against her." Voss poured himself a cup of wine. "But now that the tariffs are lowering, they'll be satisfied. Talia is no longer useful to them."
"And us?" Roderick asked.
Voss shrugged. "You are free to take her. Or she can stay here until she is stronger. The choice is hers."
Talia looked at Elara. "I want to go with you."
"Then we go," Elara said.
Pyra 4, Imperial Year 1644
Blackstone Fortress – Departure
The class prepared to leave. Voss provided supplies, horses, and a purse of silver for the road.
He walked among them, shaking hands, clasping shoulders.
"You are a good man," Reinhard said.
"I am a practical man." Voss smiled. "Goodness is a luxury. But I find it pays better than cruelty in the long run."
He stopped before a young servant – a boy of fourteen, holding the reins of a horse.
"Eddard, you've grown three inches since last month. Your mother must be feeding you well."
The boy beamed. "Yes, my lord."
"Take care of the horses. And if anyone asks, we never had guests."
"Yes, my lord."
Voss turned to Talia. He knelt – actually knelt – to look her in the eye.
"You are always welcome here, Lady Swift. If ever you need shelter, Blackstone's gates are open."
Talia hugged him. He stiffened, then relaxed, patting her back.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Go. Find your people."
The class marched out of Blackstone. Behind them, Voss stood at the gate, waving. His servants lined the walls, also waving.
Elara looked back. "He's not like any lord I've met."
"He's not," Orin said. "That's why he's still alive."
Pyra 5, Imperial Year 1644
The Road – Evening
Talia rode in a cart with Mira and Vesper. She was quiet, but her eyes were bright.
"He read to me," she said. "Every evening. Stories about knights and dragons. He said I needed hope."
"Not all lords are monsters," Hikari said.
"But enough are."
The class camped in a grove of pines. The fire was warm. The stars were bright.
Orin sat with Elara.
"Voss is a rare one," he said.
"We need more like him."
"We need a lot of things." Orin looked at the fire. "The demons, the cults, the Black Knights… the world is changing."
"Then we change with it."
The class slept.
In the morning, they headed south, toward the Free Cities.
End of Chapter Sixty‑Two