by Tamryn Tamer
At best, they would have the word of some slaver versus the word of a noble. There was never any paperwork and the rel only exchanged hands through intermediaries. Before it reached him, it went through several legitimate businesses to ensure it appeared to have been earned honestly.
Everything was running perfectly and if his wealth continued growing at the current rate, he might even rival the Moray family before the end of his lifetime. The key was diligence and habits. Which was why every night he reviewed his paperwork after dinner and a drink.
He hummed to himself as he entered his office, shutting and locking the door behind him as he turned toward his desk.
“It’s about time,” a shadowy figure spoke, causing the Duke to jump. He quickly turned and reached for the door but his hand stopped short of the handle, instead smashing against some invisible wall. “That’s not going to work.”
“Guards!” the duke shouted as loud as he could. “Guards! Intruder!”
“They can’t hear you,” the man said. “I use multiple barriers to dampen the sound vibration between them.”
“Who are you?” the duke asked. “What do you want? Rel?”
“No,” he answered while sorting through papers. The duke looked around the room and realized that several of his cabinets were opened and the man must have been looking for something.
“Information?” the duke asked as the man sifted through the papers. “If you tell me what you’re looking for…”
“I’ve already found what I’m looking for,” he said, patting a stack of documents. “I’m just making sure I haven’t missed anything else. You know, you’re the first person in this world that I’ve seen do some of these things. Given, my exposure to the world has been really limited. This is actually the furthest I’ve ever been from home. Anyway, it’s interesting. The guilds tend to purchase their raw materials from other guilds which really eats into their profits. You managed to circumvent that by ensuring only your final step involves guild members and an established brand. Nobody would question the quality of garment produced by the boutiques you’re using.”
“Is that what this is about?” the duke scoffed. “Have you been sent by the guilds to intimidate me?”
“I’m afraid you’re not so lucky,” the man said, shaking his head. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Herald Law is dead.”
“Yes,” the duke said. “What’s that have to do with anything?”
“Well,” the man smiled. “I’m what might be considered the interim herald.”
“Who are you?” the duke asked, once again reaching for the door only to find the barrier still in place. “What do you want?”
“I notice that you’re still engaged with slavers,” the man said, pointing at one of the papers. “Well, at least the revenue never slowed down suggesting that you still are. Is that right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the duke said, trembling as he looked around the room for a possible escape. “I’ve never engaged with slavers.”
“I’m only asking because I’m wondering if they never told you what happened,” he said. “It’s a little frustrating because I put a lot of effort into making an example but if nobody talks about it then all the effort is wasted.”
“I don’t know any slavers,” the duke snapped defiantly.
“I’m going to assume they didn’t tell you,” the man sighed. “I suppose they told their bosses and their bosses never told you because they wanted to keep the business running. I should have thought about that.”
“I asked you who you are!” the duke shouted.
“Right,” the man said, snapping his fingers. A small orb of light floated in the center of the room revealing his face. He was young, maybe in his twenties and tall with dark hair. His clothing was that of a noble but the way he held himself suggested he was a soldier of some sort. “Interim Herald of Ziralia, Frost.”
“H-herald Frost,” the man shook his head. “Impossible. You never stray this far from your territory.”
“Normally I don’t,” Frost said. “For you, I made an exception.”
“This was supposed to be my job but the dog-fucker just couldn’t help himself when he heard who it was,” a silver-haired man appeared out of nowhere. It took a moment for his face to register but once it did, the duke realized he was already dead. “See that. See? See how he’s about to shit himself. That’s a proper fucking reaction.”
“Slade the Slicer,” the duke mumbled as the silver-haired man smiled.
“Really?” Herald Frost said while throwing his hands in the air, clearly irritated. “Can you explain to me why he still gets called Slade the Slicer instead of Slade the elf-fucker? I’ve killed giants, a prince, and I defeated Herald Law. Yet everybody calls me elf-fucker, devil-fucker, bug-fucker…”
“Snake-fucker, squid-fucker…”
“Squid-fucker?” the herald said. “When did I fuck a squid?”
“That Elraken whore you fucked,” Slade said, smirking. “They’re half squid.”
“Really?” Herald Frost said, shaking his head as he thought about the slipper pliable flesh of the beautiful blue-haired woman. “Okay, fair enough.”
“Slime-fucker, bird-fucker, giant-fucker,” Slade continued.
“I suppose it’s close to giant slayer,” the tall dark-haired herald said. “Anyway duke, why is he Slade the Slicer when he’s fucking an elf.”
“I-I d-don’t know,” the duke said, unsure of how to answer.
“Can you call him it?” Frost asked, pointing at Slade. “For me? I would appreciate it. Just for my peace of mind. It’s really not fair…”
“This again?” Slade smirked. “You know he’s not going to say it. They never do.”
“It would make me feel better if they did,” Frost said.
“You can’t really blame them,” the silver-haired man laughed. “There’s a difference in our reputations.”
“I literally impaled over thirty people on trees. How is that not part of my reputation? Why am I not Frost the Impaler?”
“Did anybody see you do it?” Slade asked. “There’s a difference between seeing something and hearing about it.”
“Fuck,” the herald groaned. “I’m not going to make a show of it. I’m not really into the whole torturing for fun thing. I just prefer to kill them. The only reason I do the other shit is to deter other people.”
“If you want people to be fucking scared of you…”
“I don’t necessarily want them to be scared of me,” Frost said. “But I would really like to hear some bards sing songs about me that aren’t comedic in nature. That new song about me doesn’t even mention my fight with Herald Law. Instead it’s all about me spanking Brynn.”
“The princess needs a spanking, it’s a catchy tune,” Slade chuckled. “Can’t blame the drunks for singing it.”
“What’s going to happen?” the duke asked, hoping that the men needed him for something. “I can give you rel, demihumans, businesses, land…”
“You weren’t listening, were you?” Slade smiled as he nodded in the herald’s direction. “The man is acting as the interim Herald of Ziralia today. Normally, he would send me for work like this. But when he heard it was you…he insisted on tagging along.”
“I’m going to need information on all of the slavers you’ve been in contact with,” the herald said, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “I also want where they operate out of, how you contact them, everything.”
“And you’ll let me live?” the duke asked, trembling.
“No,” Herald Frost answered coldly. “If you do this, I’ll kill you myself. If you don’t, Slade will kill you. I think it’s a fair deal.”
“I’d take that deal,” Slade said pulling out a small vial of sparkling silver liquid. “You see this? This potion makes it so you pretty much can’t die for a good two to three hours no matter what I do. It also enhances your senses so you feel everything more intensely. Truth is, I’ve always
wanted to test how soundproof this fucking cube is…”
“Fine,” the duke said, wanting to get it over with. “What about my wife and children…”
“No interest in them,” the herald said, tapping the papers. “Hell, Hansel Raullon governs a city for me and I killed his father.”
“Good,” the duke said as he filled out the paperwork, regretting ever getting involved with those slavers. He silently filled out everything he knew and once he was finished, he set down the pen.
“This everything?” the herald asked, looking over the paperwork. “Not really a lot here.”
“I only worked with two companies,” the duke answered.
“Alright,” Herald Frost said. “Well, it’s like I said, I don’t really like torture so…”
* * *
Frost carefully gathered up the papers as the headless duke laid on the floor. It was a shame that the man decided to engage with slavers, he was actually an intelligent businessman compared to most of the people he’d met. He spread his money out, invested in different industries, secured his own supply lines, and even effectively utilized his boutiques’ branding to instill confidence in his products.
“It was a shame that he was a cunt,” Frost sighed, grabbing the last of the documents.
“Most people are cunts,” Slade said, drinking the silver potion.
“What’s Hestia have you taking now?” Frost asked as Slade put the vial away.
“I’ve learned not to fucking ask,” Slade answered.
“Fair enough,” Frost chuckled as he removed the barrier. “You know, I’m never really this far east and I hear there’s a nice small demihuman village a bit north and it’s late…”
“Who the fuck told you about the Bosa village?” Slade asked as they both cast their invisibility spells. “It was that fox-eared cunt, wasn’t it?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Frost said, grinning at the thought of the large chested cow-women. “We’re going.”
“I’m not fucking going,” Slade growled as they walked out the front door of the keep and toward the stables. “Have you forgotten that I’m a fucking fugitive?”
“Women love fugitives,” Frost said.
“I have no interest in fucking a fucking cow,” Slade snapped. “I’m going fucking home.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Frost smirked. “I’m going to tell Hestia that you called her house your home.”
“Fuck right off you motherfucking cunt,” Slade growled.
“Fair enough,” Frost chuckled. “You can let everybody know that I’ll be about a day behind.”
“Cow-fucking degenerate,” Slade scoffed.
“Not yet I’m not,” Frost said as he hopped on Witch. “But the night is young.”
The End
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Copyright © 2020 by Tamryn Tamer. All rights reserved. www.tamryntamer.com & www.smirkpublishing.com.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. Except in the cases permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters are eighteen years or older.
