The Imperial Dragon's Secret Treasure

Chapter One

Rene all but fell out of his saddle as they reached the military courtyard behind the castle. It took another hour to sort out prisoners and soldiers, but thankfully it was dark and cold enough that nobody harassed him about reports or the bodies.

Not the most successful mission the Dragons had ever been sent on, but at least none of the bodies were his people.

Yawning, Rene took the hallways that increased his chances of avoiding a certain loud and bossy brother he just was not in the mood to deal with. All he wanted was a meal, a bath, and to sleep for three days straight—though he'd settle for sleeping through the night.

He yawned again, eyes watering with it, the only excuse he had for not realizing he'd been found until Lesto's quiet-thunder voice said, "Why did you return with six dead Selemeans?"

Rene groaned. "Go away."

"No," Lesto snapped. "Your orders were to haul in dangerous smugglers so we could extract further information on the ringleaders."

"Well, the mission didn't go according to plan, and now your possible leads are lying dead in a cart," Rene replied. He planted a hand in the middle of Lesto's chest and pushed him back several steps. "Now get out of my damned way so I can go to bed. It's too late at night to be putting up with you."

Lesto huffed but didn't argue—but he also didn't leave, instead falling into step alongside Rene. "What happened?"

"Why in the Pantheon can't this wait until morning?" Rene asked with another groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Because if those men are dead, and were pre-occupied with being murdered, then either you didn't get them all or there is a different group in play—"

"All right, all right, Pantheon and Depths forbid you wait until a decent hour to find more people to pummel, arrest, or behead. Can I at least have a meal brought up first?" Rene asked as they bypassed the Fathoms Deep guards standing watch at the entrance to the imperial wings. Striding down the hall, he unlocked his door and threw it open.

He stopped short to see that food and a bath were already waiting for him. Damn it.

The door closed quietly behind him, and when he turned Lesto was leaning against it with his arms folded. "An entire merchant troop was killed tonight, in the same fashion as the last three attacks. Two survivors, though one will likely not make it until morning. The killers made off with ten casks of Choorin firespice, four casks of Wextish coffee, and enough chocolate from Kin del Kar that even Sarrica flinched. And that's just the most expensive stuff."

Rene removed his sword belt and sat down heavily and scrubbed at his face. "What in the Pantheon is going on? I know smugglers always do a brisk trade in murder and tax-free spices, but they're not usually this vicious. Murdering the people they steal from isn't really good for business." He bent to remove the spurs from his boots, and set them aside on a table so they could be cleaned later. Standing again, he set to work on his armor, swearing when the fastenings at the back refused to come loose.

Lesto crossed the room and knocked his hands away, fingers working deftly at the buckles and laces. Rene stripped off the heavy, metal-lined leather armor and set it on the nearby trunk so the servants would clean it as well before putting it properly on the armor stand nearby.

Pulling off his boots and the rest of his clothes, Rene strode over to the bath and climbed in, scrubbing quickly as Lesto replied, "If I had my guess, after reading all the reports, I think this is a case of two factions locked in some sort of feud. The first three attacks all happened in Selemea, but this latest one was in Tricemore—but the merchants themselves are from Selemea, whereas in the first three they were from Tricemore and Delfaste."