Chapter 313: Failed Delivery
Next day.
High sun. Empty road. Cicadas doing that smug we survived noise.
I’m standing right in the middle of the road, hands on hips, looking very official for someone in silk slippers and too much jewelry. Behind me the Dragon looms, wings half-spread, smoke lazily leaking from his nostrils like he’s bored but willing to commit atrocities if asked nicely.
We wait.
Eventually a horseman appears.
Well. Horseman is generous.
It’s a small, pudgy man on an animal that looks like a horse that lost an argument with a mule. Long ears. Sad eyes. The whole thing moves like paperwork incarnate.
No chests.
No sacks.
No jingling.
Just him. Alone. Sweating.
I squint.
“…Where’s the gold.”
He pulls up a few steps away, clears his throat, adjusts a scroll case like it’s armor.
“Do you,” he asks carefully, “have the princess.”
I smile sweetly. “Do you have the money.”
He smirks. Actual smirk. I immediately hate him.
“I am a herald,” he says, puffing himself up, “of the Most Exalted House of Guthrum, here on official business concerning their kidnapped seventh cousin, the lost and fallen Princess Loma, formerly of Tanagra.”
Behind me the Dragon growls, low and promising.
I tilt my head. “Bit wordy. But go on.”
The man unrolls a scroll. Clears his throat again. This one takes effort.
“I carry a formal reply from the House of Guthrum.”
I straighten. Showtime.
“Let’s hear it,” I say.
He reads, carefully, like each word costs money.
“To whom it may concern.
Regarding the individual styling herself Princess Loma of Tanagra.
After review of lineage, dowry potential, political inconvenience, and current condition…”
He glances up at me, then back down.
“…the House of Guthrum regrets to inform you that said individual is no longer considered worth ransoming.”
I blink.
“…Excuse me?”
He continues, finding confidence now.
“As such, the House declines all payment demands and formally requests that you—”
He squints.
“—quote—‘keep the scrawny bitch.’”
Silence.
The Dragon inhales. Deep. The kind of inhale that once ended a city.
I stare at the man.
“…They said what.”
He nods briskly, already turning the mule-horse around. “Message delivered.”
“Hey,” I call. “Wait.”
He doesn’t. He kicks the mule and rides off at a speed best described as administrative.
I stand there in the road, stunned.
Behind me, very softly, I hear Loma from the bushes:
“…They called me scrawny?”
I turn slowly. Look back at the empty road. Then at the Dragon.
“Well,” I say finally. “That’s new.”
The Dragon bares his teeth.
“…May I eat the House of Guthrum.”
“Later,” I say. “I need to rethink the pricing model.”
From the bushes, Loma sniffles.
“I ate all my soup,” she mutters. “That’s not scrawny.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Congratulations, princess,” I say. “Your family just outsourced you permanently.”
Somewhere down the road, the mule brays.
And just like that, the kidnapping business takes a turn.
***
Later.
Fire low again. Stars out. The Dragon pretending not to listen while listening very hard. Loma sits with her feet tucked under her, blanket around her shoulders, dignity slowly rebuilding like a bad habit.
I clap my hands once.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s take this again. From the start. Clean slate. No emotionally unavailable cousins.”
Loma perks up immediately.
“Okay.”
“How close,” I ask, “are you actually related to the House of Guthrum.”
She thinks. Properly. Counts on her fingers.
“Well,” she says, “my grandmother’s aunt married a Guthrum. Or possibly my grandmother’s aunt’s cousin. Or—wait—no, that one was Delvida.”
I stare at her.
“…Loma.”
“Yes?”
“How many generations back before they stop having to care if you die.”
She winces. “Several.”
“Great,” I say. “So Guthrum is out.”
The Dragon snorts.
“Shocking,” he murmurs.
I wave it off. “Fine. Longland is crawling with serene city-states and bored noble houses. Let’s shop.”
Loma brightens immediately. This part she understands.
“Well,” she says eagerly, “there’s House Merenza in Sabrabena. They’re very image-conscious.”
“Good,” I say. “Shame-prone is profitable.”
“And the Velkori,” she continues. “They once paid three wagonloads of silver because someone suggested a scandal.”
“Excellent.”
“And there’s my third cousin twice removed in Toemacha,” she adds. “He cries very easily.”
I grin. “Oh, I like him already.”
She pauses. Shifts. Glances at the rope lying nearby.
“…Saya?”
“Yes, future revenue stream.”
“Could you maybe… tie me up again?”
The Dragon groans audibly.
“Must we.”
“It helps me focus,” Loma says, blushing but determined. “And it feels… official.”
I raise a brow. “Official kidnapping mode?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I grab the rope. “Say no more.”
The Dragon rolls his eyes so hard I worry one might fall out.
“This is what I get,” he mutters, “for surviving the Bronze Age.”
I loop the rope around Loma’s wrists—neat, practiced, not too tight. She exhales, shoulders relaxing immediately.
“…Thank you,” she says softly.
I pat her head. “Barefoot princess is discovering layers.”
She smiles. Then, businesslike again:
“Oh! And if this next house refuses, my aunt in Delvida is terrified of public embarrassment.”
I grin wider.
“See?” I say to the Dragon. “She’s learning the trade.”
He sighs. Smoke curls from his nostrils.
“…Wake me when we start extorting someone with self-respect.”
I settle back by the fire, parchment already in hand.
“Round two,” I say cheerfully. “Same kidnapping. Better cousins.”
Loma beams.
Somewhere in Longland, a noble house is about to have a very confusing week.