Tired. Completely spent. Not physically but mentally. The conversation with the orcs had dragged on for more than two hours, draining a ridiculous amount of mental energy, and still offered no real solution. Unless their stubborn obsession with “let’s just go to war” counted as a solution.

  Two hours of playing handball would have been far more pleasant, and I wouldn’t feel half as exhausted.

  I glanced out the window. Such a beautiful, sunny day, and here I was wasting it like this. When I’d imagined becoming a noble, I certainly hadn’t pictured spending my time this way. I must be doing something wrong.

  I scratched my head, replaying the last meeting in my mind.

  Oh well, how does the saying go? If all you have is a hammer…

  And the Hologomora orcs did have something like a giant hammer: their enormous army.

  They weren’t one of the most numerous people, but they had one of the best-trained and largest armies on the continent. Its size had even increased lately, ever since K’hordock united the free tribes under the kingdom. Unifying them had been both a blessing and a curse. Before, there had always been skirmishes - small or large - but now the military was idle, with nothing to do except sit around, eat, train, and be a pain in the ass as an enormous monetary drain.

  After a while, when no new ideas were being offered in the meeting, we agreed to close it and resume tomorrow, giving everyone time to think of possible solutions. The plan was to review them in the morning and choose the best... or the least terrible.

  How was I supposed to solve this financial catastrophe?

  Maybe my friends could come up with something unorthodox. Something that might actually work.

  After the meeting, I sent Drackar to fetch the necessary funds from Lord Hjatwick and head to the slave fair to requisition all the newly captured slaves. I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.

  What disturbed me was how easily I understood the orcish logic behind slavery. The weak obey, while the strong decide. Simple. Brutal. Almost… elegant. It resonated with something deep inside me, something draconic.

  But then there was the other truth, the one I remembered from being human. Nobody wants to be a slave. Nobody should. The real difficulty was imagining myself in such a role. As a dragon, the idea was absurd, laughable even. My mind simply refused to picture it.

  Still, I had human friends. Those were people I deeply cared about and I wouldn’t want any of them to end up owned, collared, or sold. And that was enough.

  That’s why I’d free those poor souls and send them home.

  “Your Highness, what do you plan to do if the elves do not accept your conditions?” the baron asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

  Without his entourage from the capital he seemed more relaxed, more like the sharp, free-minded man I’d known earlier.

  We were having lunch in a smaller circle: the baron, Alice, Yolanda, Lynx, Ju, and me. A much more manageable setting after the chaos of the morning.

  For a couple of minutes, only the clatter of cutlery and a few light remarks about the food could be heard. I’d just been served a succulent roast—prepared from the water-pig, or bog-pig, that Grubber had kindly splattered across the yard—and was thoroughly satisfied with both the taste and the seasoning. The roast was accompanied by a fresh salad and a good red wine. My mood had started to improve and now the baron had launched a trail balloon for a heavier conversation.

  I sighed at his question. I wasn’t sure what action to take.

  “Would you go to war, Your Highness?” he pressed, before I could form an answer.

  I placed the cutlery down and turned my gaze at him.

  “War? Before I’ve had my coffee? Baron, please.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, I’d prefer not to. Wars are messy, expensive, and the screaming gets tedious after a while.” My shoulders lifted in a light shrug. “But yes, I will try to find a way to extract compensation from them.”

  “You can’t joke about this! Are you sure it was the elves?” Ju blurted, her alarmed eyes searching mine.

  Lynx snorted in appreciation for my joke. He was the only one, but enough to soothe my pride.

  I huffed and shook my head. Ju still clung desperately to the idea that her people couldn’t be guilty. My gaze drifted back toward the sunny courtyard. Gods, I’d rather be stretched on a chaise with a cold drink right now... but not before finishing the roast! I picked my fork and knife and dived in.

  “Ju, I’ve seen it,” I said, leaning forward, fixing her with a steady look. “I know they did it.”

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  “But that’s not possible! Nobody can see mana trails from so far away. You must be mistaken. Someone must have tricked you!”

  I sighed.

  “Maybe I’ll have to destroy one or two mage towers to make them understand I’m serious,” I said.

  “You— you— you can’t do that! That— that—” Ju stammered, scandalized.

  I nodded, maybe a little too calm and mean.

  “Yes. That’s war. That’s exactly what we’re talking about. And who else but the elves would have had both the intention and the means to do what they did?”

  To my surprise, the baron chuckled softly and shook his head, but my attention was already elsewhere: Grubber was earnestly inquiring whether the bog-pig had met my culinary expectations and if I’d like a second one delivered.

  It was fine, Grubber, but no, please no more, I sent back, hoping the thought got through, while I tried to tune back into the baron’s words.

  “…well, speaking unofficially… there might be other powers who would benefit from something like this, and who might have had the means.”

  “For instance?” I asked, blinking, genuinely caught off guard. Hopefully I hadn't lost much of what he had said.

  He tapped the table between us as though sketching an invisible map.

  “To the east of Hologomora lie two nations: the Tencent Republic and the Beastkin Federation. Both have… let’s say, strained relations with the orc kingdom, and both might be interested in weakening it.”

  That was true. Annoyingly true. But still—

  “But they wouldn’t want to weaken the Guaravian Kingdom,” I said.

  “True, Your Highness,” he agreed, “but it’s possible the Guaravian Kingdom was simply, let’s call it, collateral damage. You yourself mentioned the storm stopped being fed before it reached Guaravian territory. All of Hologomora’s neighbors fear the orcs. In theory, any of them could be the culprit.”

  But last year’s storm hadn’t stopped here. Not until it passed over the domain. This time it had stopped because of my intervention—

  At least, that’s what I wanted to say. But that thought about last year’s storm… that was still only speculation. And before I could shape my answer, Yolanda derailed me.

  “Even Guarava,” she said.

  She’d been silent until now, so I turned surprised toward her.

  “Wouldn’t that be a stretch, Yolanda?”

  She pouted, lips pursed as if wondering why I’d even question her.

  I finished the last piece of meat on my plate and cleaned my hands and tapped my face with a fresh towel. A waiter came to pick up the empty saucer and used cutlery.

  “I wouldn’t put it past them. Even if some of their own citizens got hurt, they’d still call it a win.” She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug.

  I shrugged in return. She might have a point.

  “Probably,” I conceded, raising my hands. “But this is all unnecessary speculation. I’ve seen the storm being controlled from those five towers.”

  My attention drifted to the cakes being brought in, and I almost missed Lynx’s sentence.

  “That’s what puzzles me,” he said.

  I turned to him, one brow rising, picking a couple of cakes on a small saucer. He went on while I set to work on the cakes.

  “On the surface it may look like it’s in the elves’ interest… but in truth, it’s not.”

  All eyes swung toward him in surprise.

  “Why do you say that, Sir Xi?” the baron asked.

  Lyn Xi — the name Lynx had chosen for official use — grinned. For some reason, he always found it funny when people actually used it.

  “Yes, Lyn?” Yolanda added, giving him a languorous glance... which he effortlessly ignored.

  I bit my lip to keep quiet. She tried her charms on everyone. She’d even taken a swing at the baron earlier. Usually, I found her antics amusing, but right now they were beginning to irritate me.

  “Everybody knows the small elven kingdoms excel in agriculture,” Lynx said. “They make good money selling food to Guarava and Hologomora — yes, even to the orcs. Most of that trade goes indirectly through human intermediaries and border markets, but it’s still a major part of their income.”

  He folded his hands on the table.

  “Now, if Guarava and Hologomora both face a deep crisis, the likely consequence is war. Without our Lores, Hologomora would already be at war with the elves, even without proof. It’s simply the logical outcome of the situation.”

  “Without our Queen Lores,” Alice corrected while I picked the last cakes. Meanwhile coffee was served.

  Lynx nodded.

  “Yes, yes — Queen Lores. Right. Where was I? Ah, yes.”

  “Destroying the harvest would weaken Guarava and Hologomora in the long term, but not in the short term. In the short term, it would push both kingdoms toward war over dwindling resources. And where would they look for those resources?” He tapped the table. “In the smaller elven kingdoms and fiefdoms. Which means the entire region would be devastated.”

  “Hm. So you’re suggesting there’s a third — or rather a fourth — power involved here, pushing for a regional war?” I asked, sipping from my coffee cup, my mind finally at peace.

  “Regional?” the baron exclaimed. “This would turn into a continental-wide war!”

  I shrugged. We could speculate all day, but the facts were stubborn.

  “It doesn’t matter, Lyn. The five mage towers were elven towers…”