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Copyright © 2014 by High Smut

All characters and events in this story are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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THE TRIALS OF VALERIYA
BACK IN BONDS

Chapter 3
Tanacu, Cincu

Cincu, a Kingdom named after its vast marshland. It is a peculiar country to say the least. Her native populace, the Cincumen—commonly known as the marsh-folk, or ‘the little people’—dwells in her huge stretch of marshlands, and by the meandering rivers. Their main occupation: fishing and herb trading. But there are your regular taller folk in most towns and trading posts. Mostly Alfelder settlers, coming in long before Cincu’s byzantine inception—and traders and craftsmen, for Cincu is the principal source of super-tasty mud perch, giant crabs, and many rare herbs. They even far outnumber the native Cincumen in most dry settlements she boasts.

“Beg your pardon, Majesty,” said Valeriya, remembering to lower her head in deference, “but I was led to believe that I was to execute … not a marquis!” And a Laski one at that!

“Ah. I see,” said King Durriken. He was a stubby man in his mid-fifties with curly salt-and-pepper hair and beard, and a rotund middle-part. “But you don’t need to use the lofty titles here, dear. We’re not at court. Here, I’m just a man with a trident.” The Trident! Valeriya snorted inwardly. …And a crown! The Golden Trident was an ancient artifact of untold value; now serving as the Cincu monarch’s royal scepter. “Young Danior has not been completely honest with you, then—because of his great haste to leave Alfeld no doubt.” He eyed the young Cincuman tersely.

“But father, she’s a powerful sorceress,” mumbled Danior in a whining tone. “She can do it!”—now with a bit more force in his voice—“I guarantee it!” Yes, the little weasel had turned out to be one of Durriken’s brats. “And you!” he turned to Valeriya, “You said you’d do it if the cause is just and we pay you well. As you’ve just heard, the cause is just. And we are paying you well.” The princeling’s voice had gained considerable strength now that he had stopped addressing his royal father.

“Not well enough to kill a Laski marquis!” Valeriya spat defiantly, “…In his home!” But the rest is true though, she had to admit. Marquis Vlad of Gorczyca was lobbying for the Laski king, King Maxim IX, to take ‘necessary action’ to ‘amalgamate’ The Glorious Laski Empire and the stagnant Cincu, and redistribute Cincu’s lands and settlements afterwards between more capable rulers—preferably Laski ones. He was going to put the motion forward before the king in four weeks’ time, and—if Durriken’s sources are to be believed—he had the necessary number of noble houses backing him up to make the king consider the motion very seriously.

Of course, the Cincumen liked the idea of losing their sovereignty not one bit. But their kingdom was the weakest among the nine Riverine Kingdoms—many people still refer it as eight kingdoms—by a fair margin, whereas Laski was the strongest, and wealthiest to boot. No wonder Durriken had given way to scheming and hiring killers. And it also explains why Danior couldn’t hire assassins from Dolne or Stece.

“So it’s about coin, then,” the king said. “No offense, but I do have my doubts about your expertise, and experience. But we do not have time to go looking for a new assassin anymore. If it’s more coin you seek, you shall have it. Name your price.” Durriken waved a chubby hand in front of her, as if in bestowing benevolence.

Valeriya deliberated for a while. Laski was a dangerous place for a woman, especially a young and beautiful foreign woman. Laski was the only riverine kingdom where slavery was still openly practiced, encouraged even. Anyone who wasn’t a taxpaying Laski citizen or a registered visitor, could be captured and enslaved, and traded—as she had learnt firsthand at a very young age. Valeriya would have to plan this very carefully. Never had she embarked upon an endeavor this outrageous. It was quite a challenge, in fact. Valeriya liked challenges. And she genuinely wanted to help. “100 dragons,” she announced at length.

“What!” Durriken sat up straight on his miniature throne of a chair. He was interviewing her in his private audience chamber. “But that’s preposterous! This is how much a master assassin would charge, for the assassination of a king no less!” Besides Marsh-King Durriken, his son Prince Danior and Valeriya herself, there was only a very old and frail-looking aide present inside the chamber. And by the look of him, he was either dead, or fast asleep. “I’ll give you … 31 dragons and 25 harts,” he said with finality. “And a good fishing boat,” he added.

Valeriya sighed.