Unlike the last time he had visited Lancephil, Kai and his entourage weren’t staying in the royal castle.
With nobles from across the kingdom arriving for the Assembly, even the massive, uncountable halls of the royal castle weren’t enough to house them all. Only the highest-ranking nobles—or those favored by the princes—had secured rooms within the castle walls.
And Kai, despite being the man at the center of the Assembly, hadn’t been given one.
He’d expected it.
A wanton slight, no doubt. Was it from the princes or from Regina?
He wouldn’t have put it past the princes to try and send a message by sidelining him. But Regina... no, she didn’t strike him as the petty type. She was more the kind who’d kill a threat outright rather than waste time playing palace games.
Whatever the reason, Kai and his companions had taken up residence in a luxurious inn near the Archine Tower—a place clearly designed with noble clientele in mind. They had booked out the entire third floor.
As he entered, the receptionist at the front desk bowed deeply and guided him upstairs without delay. The guard escorting him peeled away without a word, leaving Kai to ascend the wide marble staircase alone.
He moved, his cloak brushing softly against the polished wood, but his mind was elsewhere.
How was their support looking? Has it improved since his last update? Or had the tides begun to shift away from him?
Anything could’ve happened while he was busy defeating orcs. He thought but hoped for the best. He needed any and every support he could get.
It was time to find out how his subordinates had done in his absence.
His steps carried him to the third floor, and the moment he opened the door to the suit, the air in the room gave him his answer.
Inside the room, Francis and Killian sat hunched over a table cluttered with parchment, letters, and stamped scrolls. At the back of the room stood Leopold Blackwood with his arms crossed.
All of them looked to be in deep distress. Frowns covered all their eyes and their faces were drawn tight. For a moment, Francis looked like he’d aged a good few years.
Whatever they were discussing, it wasn’t going well.
He stood silently in the doorway for five seconds, watching them. They hadn’t noticed him yet. Then Leopold looked up and his eyes widened.
Francis and Killian turned the next second, rising from the sofa, smiles blooming on their faces like the tension from moments ago had never existed.
“Lord Arzan, you’re here,” Francis said, his voice smooth but slightly too bright. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Kai stepped inside, nodding once. “It took longer than expected to deal with matters in the Ashari Desert,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the three. “How are you all doing?”
Francis replied first, “Things are going well, my lord. We’ve been settling into the rhythm of the Assembly. Quite a few barons have started leaning our way—especially after word spread about Duke Blackwood’s support.”
Leopold stepped forward slightly. “My father hasn’t gone public with it yet, but most of the nobility have heard the whispers in every banquet they are attending. He’s planning to make a formal announcement at a similar banquet three days from now.”
“Banquets? Are the nobles really throwing parties before the Assembly begins?”
“Of course. The Assembly doesn’t affect them. Not directly, at least. Only you.” He shrugged. “Or so they think. But a banquet’s still a good excuse to gather influence and take note of all the rumours that are going around.”
Kai nodded and moved toward the sofa, settling into the seat with a soft exhale. His eyes drifted over the table, where parchments lay scattered in organized chaos—banquet invitations, noble profiles, scribbled alliance notes, and other information sent by the Watchers.
He picked one of the parchments, skimmed it, then raised his gaze. Although they were smiling, he saw the mask they’d put on.
“You all said things are going well,” he said evenly, “but the look on your faces when I walked in told a different story.”
Silence stretched for a moment as Francis and Killian exchanged glances. Then Francis leaned forward, his smile slipping.
“There’s one problem we haven’t been able to solve.”
“What is it?”
Before Francis could speak, Leopold stepped away from the back wall and approached the table. He grabbed two folded parchments, his fingers brushing aside a few others before he handed them to Kai.
“This,” he said, his expression grim, “is the problem.”
Kai unfolded the pages and scanned them. His brows drew together.
“Baroness Marren… and Viscountess Vaessa.” He looked up at the others. “Two of the richest nobles in the kingdom, with prosperous lands and loyal banners. I see the influence. But why are they giving you two such a headache?”
Leopold sat down on the opposite end of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Because we need both of them in our camp to secure the Assembly,” he said bluntly. “And it’s just not possible.”
“We’ve secured support from about forty nobles. Enough to make a real impact. But not enough to win outright. By our calculations, we need at least ten more,” Francis said.
“Fifteen would be ideal,” Killian added, “but ten gives us a clear margin, especially with some abstaining from the vote.”
Francis gestured toward the parchment in Kai’s hand. “And those two women? They command exactly the number of nobles we need. Between their direct vassals, trade partners, and quiet loyalists... they're the pivot.”
Leopold leaned back, brow furrowed. “But the problem is—they hate each other.”
“Is that the reason it's impossible to bring them together?” Kai asked. “Why? From what I’ve read, Baroness Marren aligns with the First Prince’s faction, and Viscountess Vaessa leans toward the Second. Is that the root of it?”
Leopold shook his head immediately. “No. That’s not the issue.”
He gestured loosely, almost dismissively.
“Those factions treat nobles by title, not by merit. Barons and Viscounts barely get a seat at the table—even if these two hold more wealth and land than half the Margraves in the capital.” He let out a breath. “From what your informants and ours gathered, they don’t care about the princes. If either of them gets a better deal, they’ll switch sides in a heartbeat. And they’d bring a dozen lesser nobles with them.”
Kai frowned, the pieces fitting too easily. If they were that flexible, why the deadlock? He looked up, confusion flickering in his gaze.
It was enough for Francis to finally speak again. He grabbed a goblet—definitely wine—and took a long drink before shaking his head.
“It’s because we can only bring one of them into our camp,” he said. “They loathe each other. Not politically, but personally.”
Francis rubbed his forehead.
“They can’t even stand to be in the same room,” he continued. “Both of them are Second-Circle Mages, and every time they meet, they start exchanging spells. Not friendly duels; they actually want to kill each other.”
Killian muttered, “Last time they crossed paths, they burned down a stage at a ball in front of three viscounts and a terrified harp player.”
“If we recruit Baroness Marren,” Francis said, “Viscountess Vaessa will publicly denounce our faction. And the reverse is just as bad. We even considered keeping it quiet, bringing one of them in and hiding it from the other…”
Leopold scoffed. “Didn’t work.”
“They keep watching each other,” Francis said. “Tight networks. Informants. Petty spies. Gods, it’s a bloody mess.”
Kai didn’t speak right away. But just from the tone in Francis’s voice—clipped, weary, a little too sharp—he could tell the man had been dealing with this for far too long. Weeks, probably. Maybe longer. And it was wearing him down.
The Assembly hadn’t even begun, and already, the fractures ran deep.
Even with Francis’s explanation, Kai still couldn’t understand why the rivalry between Baroness Marren and Viscountess Vaessa was so deeply rooted. Noble rivalries weren’t rare—far from it. One noble hating another was almost tradition. But even in those cases, personal grudges were often set aside when it came to larger matters. Political alliances demanded tolerance, if not civility.
He was certain there were nobles within the same factions who privately despised one another. But they tolerated each other’s presence for one simple reason: the gains outweighed the pride.
So why were these two so determined to keep their feud alive?
Leopold caught the look on his face and smirked.
“Why do you think two women can hate each other that much?” he asked, arms crossed casually.
“I don’t know. There could be a dozen reasons.”
Leopold leaned forward slightly, amusement in his eyes. “A man.”
“A man?” Kai asked. What an absurd reason was it for them to feud over a… man?
Leopold nodded, dead serious. “That’s the biggest reason.”
“You’re telling me they’ve been exchanging killing spells for years because of a man?” He shook his head in disbelief. “How old are they?”
“Official records place them in their fifties.”
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. “And they’re still fighting over a man?” He let out a quiet breath through his mouth, baffled. “They haven’t grown up at all.”
Of course, he reminded himself, Mages lived longer lives. Especially those of the second circle. It wasn’t uncommon for them to reach a hundred and fifty, sometimes even two hundred with the right alchemical support. Their fifties, then, were little more than their prime.
Even so.
From what he skimmed in their dossiers, both women had long established households, families and even lovers. And yet, they were still throwing spells over a long-dead love triangle?
Francis finally spoke, drawing Kai’s attention.
“It’s apparently an old rivalry, Lord Arzan,” he said. “The Watchers looked into it.” He set his goblet down with a sigh. “It started during their time in the Archine Tower.”
Kai’s frown deepened.
Leopold cleared his throat, gesturing loosely with a hand. “Let me explain it properly. This story’s practically a noble gossip legend. Every time one of them shows up at a ball, someone finds an excuse to bring it up.”
Kai raised an eyebrow, silently bracing himself.
“They were rivals from the first day they entered the Archine Tower,” Leopold continued. “No one really knows why it started, but it got bloody when they both fell for the same man—a Viscount’s son. Back then, they were just barons’ daughters. Same rank. Same ambitions. And that man? He was a talented Mage. He was expected to reach the third circle.”
Francis made a sound of acknowledgement, and Killian grunted, probably already sick of this story.
“They fought over him all through their years at the tower,” Leopold said. “Duels, spell-offs, social sabotage. Ridiculous things. But in the end, the man chose Viscountess Vaessa. And you might’ve guessed, she got her title through him.”
“She married him and yet Baroness Marren didn't give up?”
“Oh, it gets worse,” Leopold said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Baroness Marren accused her of using aphrodisiacs—claimed she seduced the man with potions to trap him.”
Francis finally chimed in, swirling the wine in his goblet. “To be fair, she’s very well-regarded in alchemy circles. Top of her year, if the Tower records are right.”
“Exactly. So whether it’s true or not, the accusation stuck. And soon enough, Vaessa was pregnant. Married the Viscount’s son who soon took the official title.”
“And Marren?” Kai let out a quiet breath, eyes narrowing slightly.
“She lost it,” Leopold said flatly. “Married a Knight’s son out of sheer spite. Forced her father to petition for her to inherit the barony. Which, as you know, is highly uncommon in our kingdom.”
Kai nodded slowly. Female succession was rare, but not unheard of among Mages. Power made exceptions possible.
“They spent the next two decades trading jabs from opposite ends of the nobility,” Leopold said. “Baroness Marren flaunted her land and title. Viscountess Vaessa flaunted her marriage and children.”
“And now?” Kai asked.
“Fate stepped in.”
Francis picked up the thread again. “Both their husbands are dead. One fell to a monster attack in the far north—some wyvern during a border skirmish. The other suffered a heart attack after a sparring injury.”
Kai blinked, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.
So here they were. Two aging Mages, powerful and bitter, still locked in a decades-old feud over a dead man—and dragging a dozen lesser nobles with them.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“Gods,” he muttered. “It’s like a tragic play no one had the sense to stop. So… both women hold noble titles now. They’re bitter, lonely, and bored enough to keep throwing spells at each other. And now they’ve dragged half of their political influence into this personal feud.” He shook his head. “Even their opposing factions probably aren’t about the princes. Just hate.”
Killian nodded at that. “I spoke with one of their Knights. Off the record. He said that even though their territories are miles apart, they still find ways to sabotage each other. Trade disruptions, caravan delays, even bribes to get the other’s servants reassigned. Everyone involved is miserable. No one likes it.”
Silence followed. Kai let the quiet stretch, staring blankly at the stack of parchment on the table.
It was all such a mess. Petty, emotional, exhausting.
Both women were clearly hurt, but they were also acting like children. Mages in their prime, nobles with power and influence, and yet… They were stuck in a grudge match from their youth.
Kai had come prepared for scheming, for power plays and even death threats. He had not come to deal with a pair of high-ranking noblewomen trying to destroy each other over a long-dead husband.
No wonder Francis looked half-dead. Kai sighed again and looked up at the three men around him.
“You don’t have any ideas, do you?”
They all shook their heads.
Leopold gave a weary smile. “My father even tried to arrange a marriage alliance—offered to marry one of my younger siblings into their families. I spoke to both of their eldest children about it.” He chuckled dryly. “They looked terrified. One of them flat-out said it would never work. And I swear, they went pale just hearing their mother’s name.”
Kai dragged a hand down his face. “Fantastic. Their kids are just as scared of them as everyone else.”
His mind was churning, but not productively. He had no strategy for this kind of feud. No spell to untangle decades of pettiness wrapped in nobility and ego.
Could he offer them something? Land? Prestige? Military backing?
It was doubtful. If a marriage alliance with a Duke’s house couldn’t mend things, he doubted a few political favors would fix it.
He exhaled slowly, muttering under his breath.
“…How am I supposed to get them in the same faction if they want to kill each other on sight?”
No one answered, because no one had a clue.
In the end, Kai did the only thing that seemed even remotely feasible at the moment.
He stood up, brushing nonexistent dust off his cloak, and looked at the others.
“Please show me my room,” he said flatly. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Sleep? Lord Arzan—”
“Yes,” Kai cut in, already walking toward the door. He gave a glance towards Francis who looked baffled. “We have hard days ahead of us. And if I’m expected to solve that—” he jerked his thumb toward the pile of parchment that represented two dueling noblewomen with war-ready egos, “—then I need proper rest.”
He reached the hallway, glancing back once.
“Let’s see what my brain comes up with in the morning.”
***
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