Lucas considered telling him off for the threat then and there, but decided against it. The duke had couched his words in just enough pomp and politeness that it was more of a warning than a threat, strictly speaking. Between that and the fact that there was probably more to be learned by listening than by speaking, Lucas let it pass.

I've killed a fucking dragon, he told himself as he sat two seats from the duke, next to a fat man he didn't know, and across the table from an elderly woman he'd seen around. The dowager of something. He couldn't remember what. The five of them were all there were, though, and when the servants started to serve them the first course, a light garden salad, Lucas decided that he was pretty sure that there was all there was going to be.

The other four seemed to know each other pretty well, and their conversation flowed easily enough. Lucas was the odd one out, and though he didn't know anyone besides Lord Torvin, it was obvious from the way that they looked at and spoke with him that everyone else had heard of him. So, even though he called Lucas Lord Parin, everyone else almost certainly knew he was Mister Blue.

What everyone else was called only came out slowly over three courses, and as it did, it explained why they all looked at him like they were better than him. It was because, technically speaking, they were. Not in Lucas' mind, of course, but certainly in the eyes of the kingdom. Although he hadn't known it at the time, he was sitting at a table with three Dukes and a Duchess, all of whom had apparently dressed down and brought a very minimal staff with them as they met in secret to dice up the kingdom.

Though there were many other nobles in and out of the city, these four ruled over vast swaths of land that surrounded the city in every direction but the sea to the west. Lord Torvin controlled the farms and vineyards to the northeast, Lady Morana controlled the shores and forests to the north and northwest, and Lords Jaravik and Loffel divided the lands of the south and southeast between them. All together, the four of them likely had a hundred Barons and counts between them that swore allegiance to them.

While that wasn't all of them, it was certainly enough to decide the fate of the city, though they didn't seem to agree at all on who should be next to wear the crown. That disagreement, Lucas understood. This was a power struggle being waged with words instead of weapons. What he didn't understand was why he was here at all.

He wasn't the only one, either. Several times, Baron Loffel made some snide comments about how they'd "Agreed to leave their underlings at home," or that "the meal would be better if the company matched."

Lucas thought about flipping him off, but he didn't. Finally, it was the Baroness who said, "You really must think of the man as sort of an unofficial Duke, Earlvin. He's a sort of Prince among the city's riffraff, and I wouldn't be surprised if he were the richest man in the city without a title, and that was before he claimed Skylara's horde."

Oh, that's it, he realized. They think I'm loaded. While that might technically be true if he were to lay claim to the dragon hoard, he was pretty much broke since he'd purchased a certain fancy fireproof cloak.

He didn't reveal any of that, though. He barely acknowledged that he'd killed the dragon. Lucas just finished his mouthful and said, "There's more to life than a title."

"Oh really, like what?" Duke Jaravik asked. "This I've got to hear."

"Well, nobles like you… You've got someone for everything. You've got guards and artisans. You have people to fight and people to create for you. You've probably got a whole house full of cooks," Lucas said, pointing his salad fork at the man's ample belly. "Me, I just skip the middle man and do all that myself. If I need to kill someone, I don't issue an order, I just draw my sword."

"Some of us prefer not to dirty our hands directly," Lord Torvin added in a way that Lucas felt was very ironic.

Unfortunately, that little exchange was one of the only direct ones that came out before the main course. After that, everything else returned to pattern, subjecting him to an endless series of word games and subtle allusions that he found insufferable.

What were everyone's plans now that the Prince was dead? No one would say.

Who would they push to assume power? The only clear answer was anyone but themselves. For this one, they each put up the names of minor nobility he didn't recognize that were supposed to be related to the royal line, but it was obvious none of those barons or viscounts were ever in the running. Instead, the four of them were circling each other like sharks, and all but ignoring him.

How had the Prince died so suddenly? Some of them seemed to know, and some of them obviously didn't.

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Finally that frustrated Lucas enough, that part way through the main course of roasted lamb, he blurted out, "If no one's going to tell me why all this happened in one fucking night, then I'm going to bounce."

"Why?" the duchess across from him asked. "Ironic. How very droll." That only deepened Lucas's consternation, and he very nearly got up.

Only the voice of Duke Torvin stopped him. "What Duchess Morana means by that is that it's ironic that you of all people should ask, since you're the man of the hour."

"I'm the man of the... What? I didn't kill him," Lucas protested, suddenly wondering if he was about to become the fall guy for all of this. "The only one I've killed, well, they weren't even a person, not really."

"See?" the duchess said. "He admits it. He's the reason we need to decide who the next ruler will be."

Before Lucas could whirl on her and tell her to shut up, Duke Torvin continued. "His heart stopped when hers did. Whether he or his father felt the blows up to that point, I can't say, but I know their lives were braided together. Why do you think he was so against you killing her?"

"I… Wait, what?" Lucas asked. "What in the hell? How was I supposed to know that? If it was going to kill him, then why did he have Hisenburgle working on ways to kill her? Why did the damn gnome help me if—"

"It was a closely guarded secret," Lord Torvin answered, nodding. "I doubt that he knew. I doubt that more than five people in the kingdom knew, including the Prince and his father. The Prince never wanted to kill her. He wanted the means to kill her to force a fairer arrangement, but the old wyrm was never going to stop squeezing. This would have had to be done eventually, if not in his lifetime, then in his sons."

Lucas was vaguely horrified. While he didn't mind killing the Prince since he might have done that on purpose one day anyway, the idea of killing his entire line bothered him. He hadn't just killed Skylara, he'd probably killed at least half a dozen people, including kids. All he could manage at that was, "That's completely fucked."

"As you say," Lord Torvin answered while everyone else merely smiled, and Lucas looked like he'd said something ridiculous.

The conversation became ever so slightly more direct after that, but only about the topics that concerned the Prince's death, the Dragoness's, or Lucas's. Dessert was in the process of being served when Lord Jaravik finally stood and said, "Enough of this. I came for your endorsement because your letter implied that you might be willing to back me in the days ahead. This, though? This is just a waste of my time."

That duke was a rail-thin, nasal man, and easily the most unpleasant of the three. Duchess Morana was smart at least, and occasionally funny, while Lord Loffel was merely affable and fat. Lucas would not be the least bit upset to watch him leave.

"What? But he told me the same thing!" the fat duke said, rising next. Lucas looked to the duchess next, wondering if she'd be the next to reveal Lord Torvin's game, but she merely laughed and waved them away. "And you believed him?" she cackled. "Our host is the consummate gamesman. Always more wheels within wheels."

Duke Torvin waited for the commotion to die down, and then said, "Once, perhaps, but today it's just the opposite of what you've said. I've decided that I won't be making a play for the throne at all. I brought the three of you together, plus our duke of the lowlives here, in the hopes that you three could work something out so that Lordanin need not be torn apart by further violence."

"What? Why?" Duke Loffel asked.

"Stay for dessert and I'll happily tell you," Lord Torvin told the man as he sank his fork into his cake and raised the bite to his mouth. "My heart simply isn't in this anymore. Not since, well, you know…"

What happened next was right out of a soap opera. While the other two Dukes sat themselves and tentatively ate, Duke Torvin unfurled a long and well-rehearsed sob story about his daughter, who'd been burned alive so recently by the dragon. He laid it on thick, too.

He didn't just paint Adin as a neglectful addict; he also told them all about the baby, which seemed to hit the Baroness especially hard. She'd acted heartless all night, but Lucas could see that Lord Torvin had struck a nerve there. Lucas didn't buy the line of bullshit for a minute, yet by the time it was done even he felt sorry for the man, and was sure that everyone else believed that his desire to step aside from their infighting was at least a little sincere.

This went on for some time, and finally, with his desert done, and his sob story about his personal tragedies and the good of the kingdom at an end, the duke said "A toast then, to a new order," as he motioned for a servant to bring a tray of glasses. "Despite what you've said, I've learned one thing from this evening, and will not fight any of you for the crown. In fact, I don't think we should fight at all, and would prefer that we not part as rivals."

While Duke Torvin's words seemed sincere, Lucas didn't buy it for a second, and when his glass was set in front of him, he noticed that it contained Blue immediately. He said nothing, but he shot the duke a look, and the man smiled tightly and gave him a small shrug.

Brew of Mana Intoxication (dilute) (1 dose): Euphoria 5, poison 2, intelligence -1, mana regeneration decreased by 50% for 1 hour.

That annoyed Lucas, but not as much as the fact that the glasses of the man's other three guests held the same drug. Lucas knew what he was doing then and opted not to warn them. While this evening may have started as an attempt to win people over to his side, recruitment was quickly becoming mandatory.

Lucas had mixed feelings about that, but given that he'd pulled the very same stunt not so long ago, who was he to judge? There were smiles then, and a toast to the next King or Queen. Lucas even pretended to drink with them, though he was careful not to let the wine touch his lips. The duchess sitting across from him noticed that, but too late, and before she had the chance to ask him a question, her glass was already slipping from her thin fingers to shatter on the tile floor.

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