Thrain strides forward, sitting cross-legged on the ground opposite from the stranger.
“Lord Leto? You summoned us?” Thrain presses.
Sigvid hesitates, refusing to sit beside his brother. Sitting would give him less maneuverability if attacked.
Lord Leto lifts his shrouded head. His voice is gravelly and slightly muffled when he speaks as if the man under the hood is striving to disguise even his voice.
“I have a proposition for the fearsome Thordsson brothers whose lack of decorum for politics is often refreshing.”
Thrain visibly bristles at Lord Leto’s immediate assault on their characters, but Sigvid chuckles under his breath. Earlier that year, Thrain almost caused a war with the Timber Province when he was found indecent with one of King Rendel’s many mistresses in the castle.
It was a scandal worthy of the likes of his brother, the King of the Salt Province.
“In exchange for completing my request, you will be paid handsomely, far beyond your wildest dreams.” Leto withdraws a long, thin pipe from the confines of his cloak. After lighting the bowl, he takes a long draw, puffing smoke rings over the fire.
“I have done my due diligence on you two. I know how ferociously you protect the Salt Province, and what I can pay would feed your people for winters to come.”
“We aren’t mercenaries.” Thrain spits.
He had gone soft in his training to become King. Sigvid prayed tothe gods that accession would not have happened so soon. Had his father not revoked Sigvid’s right to rule when he was ten winters old, perhaps they would not need to receive handouts from a low-level Ridge man.
To Lord Leto’s words, Sigvid is most intrigued.
He essentially had become his father’s steel fist. His central roles include tracking criminals, solving land disputes, and leading the damned army. Nothing this arrogant Ridge lord can suggest would be outside of his usual level of unorthodox behavior.
“No, you are not. You are princes. One of you has even accepted the helm of King. Who would expect anything less of the sons of the late King Thord?”
“What is the game? What dirty job can you not complete yourself?” Sigvid interrupts.
“To the point.” The firelight briefly reflects under Lord Leto’s shroud, revealing a solid blue mask. “I require you to bring me the head of a King. Specifically, I want the head of King Rendel of the Timber Province. He and Princess Avina have an arrangement to marry at the end of this year. Allow them their marriage and then unleash the might of your Briny God.”
The brothers fall silent.
Quelling a rebellion is one thing. Ensuring the black market trade runs fair without skin is commonplace. Assassination, on the other hand, is not entirely within his skillset, even if it is within his moral compass.
Rendel is marrying Princess Avina? The sole heir to the Ridge. A union between the two would merge their provinces against Salt.
Why would they allow this to happen?
“You are hiring us to do the job of mere assassins? Why?” Sigvid leans forward, steepling his hands.
Lord Leto’s laugh is unsettling. “Are you prepared to turn down a fortune, Prince Sigvid? All to give me a small war with Rendel where you ensure his death is at your hands.”
He tosses the gem bag at their feet.
Rare and precious gemstones worth more than Toftlund, their capital city of Salt, glitter in the firelight.
“What do you think, boys? Ready to hear me out?”
Thrain and Sigvid exchange a devious look.
1
SIGVID
July 25th, Year 100, 9th Era
Border of Salt & Timber Provinces
