The strategy chamber was spacious; a large table dominated the center, covered with maps and markers. Windows overlooked the city, giving a commanding view of Tidemark's harbor and streets below.

  Calian stood near the table, his leather hat and gambeson replaced by shiny chainmail and an archer’s beret. He is still a ranger, even though he’s in knight’s armor.

  The chainmail wasn’t as restrictive as plate, and it still gave good enough defenses.

  Three players stood nearby, each one distinct enough to catch my attention immediately.

  "Ah, Orion," Calian said with a welcoming smile. "Right on time. You're the last to arrive, which means we can begin introductions."

  I was last to arrive. Way to introduce myself.

  He gestured to the group.

  "This is Orion, from the village of Carpa,” he said towards the others. “The Black Ranger, as I hear they call you!”

  Great, my titles are already public knowledge between NPCs.

  It was a bit awkward; standing there, being called various titles when as per RPG rules the level 70 Calian could kill me with one hand tied behind his back.

  He pointed to the second player, a Paladin in gleaming white and gold armor that looked very high quality. It looks better than Rafael’s set.

  "From Dryhollow, this is Lothras."

  The Paladin inclined his head slightly, his expression somewhere between bored and superior. He looked me over like someone appraising livestock.

  "Carpa," he said, his tone flat. "Charming."

  I kept my expression neutral.

  Calian continued, undeterred. "From Oakenlight, Athos."

  I wasn't surprised. Athos nodded to me, that same calm smile from the finals still in place.

  "Good to see you again, Orion. Looking forward to working together."

  "Likewise," I said, meaning it. During the tournament, Athos had already earned my respect.

  "And finally," Calian turned to the fourth player, "from Shadowreach, Kara."

  She was a Bard, which was rare enough on its own; most players avoided the Bard class, and judging by the fact that she was invited here, she had to be really good.

  But what struck me wasn't her class.

  Kara was beautiful in that effortless way that made you pause.

  Shoulder-length red hair framed a face with high cheekbones and a scattering of freckles across her nose. She was tall, nearly my height, with a figure that her leather armor did nothing to hide. But it was her eyes that held my attention: deep blue, sharp and intelligent, currently studying me with the same assessment I was giving her.

  "Orion," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I've heard about your tournament run. Impressive work."

  "Thanks," I managed, pulling my thoughts together. "Didn’t see you there."

  "I usually leave the one-on-ones on my teammates,” she said. “Unless we’re talking about a different kind of one-on-one.”

  I definitely blushed. I was way too out of practice for this.

  Lothras scoffed. "A bard.” He said the word as if he was swearing. “How... practical."

  Kara's smile didn't falter, but something cold flickered in those blue eyes. "Give it a rest, tin can."

  Calian clapped his hands once, cutting through the tension. "Excellent. Now that introductions are complete, we should move to the Lord's Hall. Count Vizgrad is waiting, and he doesn't appreciate tardiness."

  "The Lord's Hall?" Athos asked. "I thought we were meeting here."

  "The Tower is for military matters," Calian explained, already moving toward the door. "We had to assemble here because I still had work to do in the morning, but the Count is waiting in The Lord's Hall. It's about a twenty-minute walk from here, through the administrative district."

  We filed out of the strategy chamber, following Calian down the spiral stairs and back into the main hall. As we walked, I caught Kara glancing at me once, then looking away when I noticed.

  Lothras walked ahead, his posture suggesting he'd rather be anywhere else.

  Athos kept pace beside Calian, asking questions about the city's layout.

  And I brought up the rear, wondering what exactly we were about to walk into.

  The morning sun climbed higher as we left the Knight's Tower behind, heading deeper into Tidemark's heart.

  The Lord's Hall was a palace in every sense of the word. Being the biggest harbor in the Silverwing region must have been paying well.

  Unlike the Knight's Tower's martial functionality, this building spoke of wealth, power, and decades of rule. White marble columns supported a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of Tidemark's history; ships sailing into harbor, battles against sea monsters, the crowning of successive Counts, and stained glass windows painted sunlight into prismatic colors that danced across the floor.

  But what struck me most was the crowd.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Dozens of people filled the main chamber, including merchants in fine clothes, craftsmen still wearing their work aprons, farmers in simple homespun, and soldiers in all kinds of armor, all waiting patiently along the walls.

  At the far end was what the people of Tidemark had called the Seastone Throne itself.

  Count Vizgrad occupied it with ease, like he was born to do so.

  To be fair, he probably was.

  He looked to be in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His clothing was rich but practical; deep blue with silver threading, the colors of Tidemark. A circlet of white gold rested on his brow, inlaid with what looked like sapphires.

  Standing beside the throne was Cathe, the woman who'd accompanied Calian to Carpa. She held a ledger and seemed to be managing the flow of petitioners.

  We hung back near the entrance as Calian led us to an alcove where we could observe without interfering.

  "The Count holds public hearings every morning," he explained quietly. "Any citizen can bring grievances or requests directly to him. It's part of why Tidemark thrives: people know they have a voice, and a trusted lord to hear them."

  Currently, a farmer stood before the throne, his weathered hands clutching a worn cap. His clothes suggested he'd traveled some distance, dust from the road still visible on his boots.

  "...and that's when the third attack came, m'lord," the farmer was saying, his voice carrying across the chamber. "Lost two more sheep, and old Bensen's cow. The Ice Wolves are getting bolder, coming down from the mountains more frequent-like."

  Count Vizgrad leaned forward slightly, his expression concerned. "How often do they come?"

  "Almost every day, m'lord. We counted at least fifteen last time, but there are way more. They're bigger than normal wolves too, and they got this frost on their fur that makes 'em harder to kill."

  The Count nodded, then glanced at one of the knights standing nearby. "Captain Vern, I want a squad of knights dispatched to Pineloft immediately. Twenty men, experienced hunters. Exterminate the Ice Wolf pack and establish patrol patterns to prevent future incursions."

  "Yes, my lord," the knight responded, saluting.

  Vizgrad then looked at someone else, and I recognized her uniform.

  It was a woman in the blue and gold of the Adventurer's Association.

  "Post a quest as well. Make it county-wide. We need adventurers to help cull the Ice Wolf population before they become a larger problem."

  The Association official bowed. "It will be done, my lord."

  The farmer's face transformed with relief. "Thank you, m'lord! Thank you! The village won't forget this!"

  "See that Cathe provides you with provisions for your journey back," Vizgrad said kindly. "And tell your village that Tidemark protects its own."

  The farmer bowed so low I thought he might fall over, then backed away from the throne, still expressing gratitude.

  Cathe consulted her ledger. "That was the last petitioner, my lord."

  "Excellent." The Count stood, and the remaining crowd began to disperse, talking among themselves about what they'd witnessed. Some cast curious glances at us, but most filtered out through the main doors.

  Once the chamber was mostly empty, Calian stepped forward and bowed. "My lord, I've brought them."

  Count Vizgrad's attention shifted to us, and I felt the weight of his gaze.

  He was at least on the level of Calian, from what I could tell. His aura was heavy, and mighty.

  It was royal.

  I wonder what Duke Dayne’s, or King Seraf’s presence feels like.

  As far as I could tell, I was getting the hang of it. The presence stat was obviously noticeable by others, and the bigger the difference was between yours and theirs, the harder their aura pressed on yours.

  At least, that was my theory.

  "Ah, the champions from across the county," he said warmly, descending from the platform.

  Up close, he was taller than I'd expected, easily six feet, with the build of someone who'd been a warrior before becoming an administrator. "Please, approach. There's no need for formality here."

  We moved forward as a group. Lothras looked slightly uncomfortable, probably unused to dealing with high-level NPCs. Athos maintained his calm demeanor. Kara walked with confident grace, and I tried to match her composure.

  "Lord Calian has spoken highly of each of you," Vizgrad continued, gesturing for us to follow him toward a side chamber.

  We entered a smaller council room, less grand but more intimate. A round table occupied the center, with maps and documents spread across its surface, similar to the Strategy Chamber in the Knight’s Tower.

  Guards closed the doors behind us.

  "Wine? Water?" the Count offered, gesturing to a side table with refreshments.

  "Wine, thank you," Kara said.

  The rest of us asked for water.

  A servant poured and distributed cups while we took seats around the table.

  Count Vizgrad settled into his chair with a sigh that suggested the weight of more than just his years. "I appreciate you coming on such short notice. I imagine you're wondering why I've specifically requested adventurers for something when I have more than enough capable men serving me."

  "The thought crossed my mind," Athos admitted carefully.

  "Direct. I like that." Vizgrad took a sip of his wine. "Let me be equally direct. Tidemark faces a crisis, though most of its citizens don't know it yet."

  He paused, choosing his words carefully.

  "My legitimacy as Count has been challenged."

  The words hung in the air like a blade.

  Lothras straightened. "Challenged? By whom?"

  "My nephew, Darius Vizgrad." The Count's expression hardened. "Three weeks ago, he returned from an expedition to some ruins in the southern marshlands. He claims to have found ancient documents, records from the founding of Tidemark, that suggest his bloodline, not mine, has the rightful claim to the Seastone Throne."

  "Are the documents authentic?" I asked.

  "Questionable at best. My scholars have examined copies, and they believe the documents are either forgeries or have been deliberately misinterpreted. But that hardly matters."

  Vizgrad stood and walked to the window overlooking the city. "What matters is that some people believe them. Darius has been spreading these claims quietly, gathering supporters among the nobility and merchant class."

  "Why not arrest him?" Lothras said bluntly. "If he's committing treason–"

  "Without proof of direct action against the throne, I cannot move against him without triggering a civil war." The Count's voice was tight. "Tidemark's stability depends on the appearance of unquestionable authority. If I arrest my nephew on suspicion alone, I create the very crisis I'm trying to prevent."

  Calian stepped forward. "Today, the Count begins his annual tour of the county. He'll visit each major village, hear petitions, inspect defenses; it's tradition, and expected."

  "I'll be safe during the tour," Vizgrad added. "My personal guard is loyal, and I'll be surrounded by witnesses. Darius won't make his move while I'm visible to the entire county."

  He had another dose of wine poured for both him and Kara.

  "In seven days, I will return to Tidemark for the Recoronation Ceremony." The Count's jaw tightened. "It's an annual tradition, symbolic renewal of the Count's right to rule. According to my spies, that's when Darius plans to make his move. He intends to interrupt the ceremony, present his so-called evidence before the assembled nobles, and demand the throne."

  "And if enough nobles believe him..." Athos said quietly.

  "Then Tidemark tears itself apart." Vizgrad's fist clenched on the windowsill. "Families will choose sides. The merchant guilds will fracture. The knights will be forced to choose between duty and blood. And while we fight amongst ourselves, our neighbors in other provinces will see opportunity, even if they call themselves allies."

  The room was silent except for the distant sounds of the city beyond the windows.

  "There is, however, a solution," the Count said, turning back to face us. "A way to prove beyond any doubt that I am the rightful Count of Tidemark."

  He walked to the table and pulled aside several maps to reveal an ancient scroll, its edges yellowed with age.

  "The Tidemark Trident."