Author's Preface
The sun beat down mercilessly on the small desert village, turning the sandstone buildings into shimmering mirages. Dust devils danced between narrow alleys, and the air shimmered with dry heat. It was the kind of backwater town where little changed - except when outsiders arrived.
Two middle-aged women stood under the shade of a date palm near the central well, baskets of laundry balanced on their hips as they gossiped in low voices.
“Did you see those Black Fang mercenaries at the Grand Lamia Inn a few days ago?” said the first, fanning herself with a woven fan. “Came riding in on those big camels… and a couple of fine desert horses. The tall one with the bleached white looked like trouble.”
Her companion clicked her tongue. “Trouble, yes, but they pay well. My husband says they’re here for the nobles again. Lady Leila’s been sneaking out every night, that one. Heiress or not, she’s got the appetite of a desert lioness.”
“Shh! Not so loud. With the King dead and everything in chaos… better they raid old tombs than cause problems here. Though I heard that the young pretty one has beautiful eyes…”
The dawn was rising in one particular room at the Grand Lamia Inn. Sunlight filtered through the shutters, falling across a mass of tired, aching, beautiful people.
“OI! Pretty boys!” came a rough, smoky voice. “Get yer asses up and outta bed. We ain’t got a lotta time until the raid on the Royal Mystic Tombs! Hurry up and - oho, wait…!”
Grisha, the middle-aged mercenary, smirked as he took in the scene inside the cramped inn room. Five bodies tangled together. Clothing discarded everywhere. One body piled on another, slowly waking up from last night's... chaos.
"You're late again," came a dry, husky voice from the pile - a redhead with a sharp bob cut, not even bothering to lift her head. Her toned arms stretched, muscle flexing as she yawned. "Always picking them up, and always just before their missions. What are you, their nanny?"
A freckled brunette beside her snorted a laugh, wavy hair falling across her face. A third woman, dark-skinned with straight blonde hair, was already stretching lazily, entirely unbothered by the voyeur.
"Hah! Perhaps I was, back when they were wee teens... but now?" Grisha scoffed. His eyes lingered a bit too long, before quickly drifting to the two young men.
“Ugh,” muttered the taller one, sitting up. “A total buzzkill as always, Grisha… that’s why the Captain won’t promote ya~”
Nassor shook out a wild mess of white hair that fell across his angular, sun-bronzed face, with striking silver-blue eyes. Early twenties, lean and athletic, and a charming, dangerous grin. His body was a map of old battle scars, fresh scratches, and hickies - proof of both the battlefield and last night’s activities. He didn’t bother covering up as he stretched casually.
“Oy! Arjuna!” he called, after landing a firm smack on the brunette woman’s plump ass. “Looks like it’s time to leave this nice inn behind… and these fine behinds~”
“Ah. Let your little brother rest a bit,” spoke the brunette, giggling. The blonde streaks in her hair were illuminated by the faint morning sun. “He’s still tired after what I did to him last night~”
That stirred the shorter young man.
Arjuna sat up with a soft groan, rubbing his eyes. In stark contrast to his brother, he had a gentle, almost ethereal beauty. Long, light blonde hair cascaded over fair skin that was nearly ivory in tone. Clean-shaven, with soft features and kind eyes that seemed out of place among hardened mercenaries. His voice was quiet and gentle as he mumbled, “Please, Nassor, Leila… lower your voices. I’ve been awake for a while now.” He groaned, the marks and scratches more prominent on his paler skin. Arjuna sat up and faced the weathered old man.
“We’ll be up, Grisha. Don’t worry. Tell Captain Raktam that we’ll be in the living quarters in… ah… ten minutes!” Arjuna winked at him, already rising and getting dressed. “Do… forgive my crass older brother.”
“Crass? Coming from the man whose very idea this orgy was?” Nassor smirked at his brother, and then sent a softer glance towards the women. “Mind a bit of help, ladies? We can get out of your hair faster if you aid us~"
The redhead groaned theatrically, sitting up at last. "I'll leave that to the other two," she mumbled. "My shop has to open in an hour... I'll be leaving a bit early." Though her gaze did wander over to the silver spear in the corner of the room. "... the craftsmanship still surprises me on that thing. Can't believe you stole it from your orphanage's matron."
"Don't you know, Cass? The best things are always stolen~!" The blonde giggled, and began to assemble Nassor’s light armor, humming a little song. “Drink and good fun, boring just as one~”
"You sure about that, Rishima?" Cass scoffed. "Remind me to never invite you to my forge. Don't want my curios or a Jiu-engraved dagger disappearing up your ass."
Iron-Head Grisha let out a sleazy chuckle at the scene, waving a lazy goodbye. "Ten minutes, or I'm draggin' the lot of you out by the ankles."
The door shut behind him, and the room settled into a quiet rhythm... motion, half-hearted grumbling, and the occasional yawn.
“Gone so soon,” Leila lamented, her voice husky and warm. The brunette was laying atop of Arjuna, her heavy breasts pressing against his lean, fair chest. “You two aren't leaving Eshtara anytime soon, right? Come back to this little village more often… you won’t find anyone as pretty for leagues around.” She adjusted Arjuna’s gambeson with gentle fingers, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “It really isn’t often you meet a man who’s both this pretty and this kind, not to mention skilled. Gentle in the streets… and a monster in the sheets~”
Even Arjuna’s soft cheeks turned a shade of red. “Y-you’re always so blunt. But I appreciate it. Your beauty sets my heart aflame every time our band passes through here… you're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, Leila."
She smirked saucily. "Honeyed words, or the truth? You were saying similar words when you were plowing Cass and Rishima last night, Juna darling. Don't you lie to me..."
“Hah! Guess you really have always favored him,” Nassor’s deeper voice cut in, smirking as the blonde helped dress him. “I ain’t judging. My little bro’s got me beat in a few ways… just not in size . Nor in battle.”
Thwack!
A pillow was thrown quickly, and was swatted down by a gentle hand just as fast.
“That depends. You might be better at charging like a brute… but who ends up with fewer scratches, but just as many kills?”
“Okay, but who looks better covered in blood and sand?”
“No one. Definitely not you, when you’re covered in bandages after. The healing lady has to work twice as hard.”
“But when I’m distracted, who has to run away firing arrows like a little bitch~?”
“Only because the frontliner is incompetent. That’s your job, is it not? To keep my perfect complexion unmarred?”
“OKAY, but you have to…!”
The trio of women all laughed, and the time flew by.
Ten minutes later, Nassor and Arjuna strode down the hallway, fully suited up and ready for their mission.
Nassor wore laminated leather armor - small overlapping plates dyed in the warm hues of the dunes. Light enough for his acrobatic style, yet strong enough to turn aside blades. A long silver spear rested at his side, its pommel shaped like a striking serpent.
Arjuna’s outfit was lighter: a well-made quilted gambeson in soft brown and baby blue. It offered excellent freedom of movement for his archery. His strange metal bow, sleek and otherworldly, was slung across his back.
The two brothers stepped into the main living quarters of the Grand Lamia Inn. The room was noticeably cooler than the rest of the building, thanks to glowing Jiu seals etched into the sandstone walls. Sunlight streamed through high windows, catching on silver cutlery and a modest chandelier. A few locals offered polite smiles and small bows as the mercenaries passed, though one or two quickly averted their eyes.
Most of the Black Fang members were already gathered. Some drained sand from their boots, others scarfed down flatbread and spiced lentils, while a scarred woman with a greatsword cleaned her weapon with practiced care.
“Phew. Thank the Royals for these cooling seals. Jiu really is a blessing in this heat," she muttered. The woman saw the brothers passing by - and waved. "Oh, you two? Already done fuckin' the local nobility and craftswomen? Good for you."
"Thanks, Ishani! You could join us next time, ya know~?" Nassor waved back, already grinning.
But Ishani just chuckled, shaking her head. "Nah, I'll pass. Mixing pleasure and company's always a mess... take care of your horndog brother, alright, Arjuna?"
"I will! Don't worry!" Arjuna winked at her, his soft lips curling into a sweet yet... flirty smile?
And just a few feet ahead, a lanky youth leaning against the wall spotted the pair and grinned. He was decently tall - with scraggly brown hair, and facial hair that didn't quite connect. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. Hope you two aren’t too tired from last night’s bullshit.”
“Bullshit? You’re just jealous you weren’t invited, Kazan!” Nassor laughed, jabbing the younger mercenary in the chest. “We keep things open… but not that open.”
Kazan rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and sit down. Boss man is in a good mood for now, but you know how fast that changes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nassor waved him off. “Let’s go, little bro. We can tease the big rat later.”
“Ugh. Let’s just hope he doesn’t behead us…”
As the duo stepped into a private room at the end of the reception area…everything changed.
The opulence grew grander. More paintings hanging on the walls. Not even a hint of dirt or dust, despite the open windows. But the air itself felt terrifying. Thick. Thicker than the three women the duo had left behind, even. It felt like diving into the deepest parts of the ocean with no gear. Trying to swim to the surface, failing, and…
“... tell me,” came a quiet yet deep voice. Bass rumbling. Quite literally shaking the room. “What does a man need in this world?”
Two brothers gulped. It felt like their skin was trying to crawl off of their bodies, fleeing from the predator in front of them…
“… beer. Women. And c-coins?” remarked Arjuna’s soft voice, smiling despite the tension. His knuckles turned white as he gripped a nearby table.
A pause. Any normal human being who stepped in the room would’ve passed out by now just from the sheer pressure. Waves of thick Jiu that felt as dark as the midnight sky-
Was then accompanied by bellowing, loud laughter.
“HAHAHAHA! Right on, kiddos!”
Sitting behind a table, paper money stacked to the ceiling, casting a large shadow across the room - was The Captain.
“Anyone could’ve remembered my fable words,” Raktam proudly began. “But only the STRONG could remember ‘em while drowning under the waves. Sit down, ya horny brats. I hope you didn’t forget the big job we have coming up.”
He was a massive man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with deep brown skin that spoke of his mixed Solaran and Azuman blood. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw framed a battle-scarred face, while his piercing silver eyes seemed to drink in the light. Long black hair streaked with silver was tied back, and faint dark wisps of concentrated Jiu coiled lazily around him.
Power. Charisma. And a cold, faintly sweet smell.
“‘Course not, sir!” Nassor chuckled as he sat down on the more opulent chair, his posture surprisingly straight. “Wouldn’t dare dream of missin’ it. Nobody knew where the Royal Tombs were… until three days ago.”
The younger brother took the smaller chair - not before elbowing Nassor’s side - and then nodded.
“Mhm. Our trail led us to this village, which we’ve been to many times… and we found that the nobles here helped hide the entrance. And thanks to Nassor and my, ahem… skills…”
Captain Raktam grinned widely. “Yep. Fucked the secrets outta them. But then ya horny bastards kept it up for more days on end!” He laughed again, windows rattling. “I’m grateful to you boys. A hardy band like us? We ain’t used to gettin’ info in ways like that. ‘Lot less bloodshed your way.”
The older brother smirked, saluting rigidly but playfully at the same time. “Of course, Pops! Death and a trail o’ bodies ain’t the best way to endear yourselves to the locals. And in these times, when everyone is askin’ for help from mercenaries and guilds, instead of the Cerulean Spears?” He winked. “Return customers are a nice source of profit.”
“Right you are… but back to business again. I’ve praised you assholes more than enough.”
Captain Raktam sat up straight - and the air felt heavy again. A storm was brewing in those aged silver eyes.
“Here’s the deal, kiddos. We’re sendin’ you two and Kazan and a local noble to the tombs first. Good ol’ scoutin’ party. And we don’t know fuck all about what’s actually IN them tombs. So no mindless lollygaggin’. Keep focused.”
“Sir,” Arjuna sat up and frowned a bit. “Are you really sure about this? Tomb-raiding is fine and all, but the Royal family’s tombs? Just a year after they were all slaughtered? What if there’s traps or soldiers and-”
“And?”
The Captain stared. Not saying another word. Tension was slowly building back up, nearly choking the two-
“And,” Nassor picked up, placing an arm around his younger brother, grinning. “That’s why he’s sending the most promising young mercenaries he has. Another trial by fire… you’re lookin’ to promote us to Sergeant Rank too, like Grisha, ain’t you?”
Phew. Just like a knife through the finest Eshtaran goat cheese, the tension had deflated.
Raktam nodded almost instantly. “Aye. You two are far too green for the rank… but I see promise in ya. We run a little meritocracy out here, like our good ol’ dead Royals did. ‘Praise the King!’ and all that… heh.”
“And if ya survive… it’s worth the damn payraise.” His eyes narrowed. “You two are leavin’ in an hour. Go meet yer guide, and bring Kazan with ya. Dismissed.”
The brothers stood up and bowed, leaving Raktam’s office. Not a single word of banter or chatter until they had left the private room far, far behind.
Yet as the pair left, The Captain’s eyes narrowed. He leaned back in his chair… making a small signal with his hand.
“... are you sure that he’s the one?” whispered a smooth, feminine voice.
From the shadows, a cloaked figure emerged. Wriggling out of the darkness like a black snake. Their pupils… shaped like crosses. They wrapped their arms around the grizzled mercenary leader, a hug from behind.
The Captain merely nodded - handing a neat stack of notes to the mysterious figure.
“My instincts are still sharp as ever, love. And you were right. We just stumbled upon an old conspiracy, love." Raktam pulled out a cigar, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. "Ain’t no mistaking the kid’s face… even if it’s hidden under magecraft from the damn Grand Mage himself.”