A Peek at "Sovereign Duties"

So, my goal going into 2019 was to complete the first draft of book 2 in my Metagore series "The Sovereign Duties of Metagore", and now we're just over halfway through with November and the end is drawing near and so is the first draft. Thus, I have decided that it is about time to give you all a small peek at the story.

***This is the first draft, thus it is not polished nor edited.

***If you have not read book 1, "The Battle For Metagore", be advised that what follows will contain SPOILERS.

(CHAPTER 1: Unpaid Debt)

It was the last night of the Pyqecius moon. Grand Duke Solaris sat in his cabinet accompanied by his new council: Duke Barabas and Marquess Zane.

“Go, bundle up and deliver these coins to BrightHelm.” Solaris’ lavender hand scooted a sack of chips over to his duke, a slender demon from the canyons of Qupar. “When you turn up to BrightHelm, search for Lord Cornelius or Duchess Zorie, or anyone of the high court for that matter. Plead to them. Plead for them to join forces. Declare unto them, ‘This decree is from Lord Solaris. We will anoint you as lord over Metagore. We will overturn the reign of the traitors of this land, and we will avenge the blood of our fallen that has been shed unjustly. The kingdoms of old will perish, and ours of new will blossom and thrive.’ Then relinquish the chips and return home.”

Barabas swiped the loot off the table and departed the room.

Solaris’s gaze trailed toward a massive ogre, his successor.

Zane’s race was evident from his protruding bottom jaw and tusk-like teeth, to his dull green skin and bald scalp. As well as it was visible that he hailed from Waaki due to the ink markings on the side of his skull and shoulder.

“Stay awake and keep guard over the manor for the remainder of the night,” Solaris commanded. “Occupy the streets with our Golden Men. Let no one enter into the courtyards, and leave all the torch flames lit until the sun rises in the morn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye,” Zane replied. “The beacons will burn bright through the night, and not a single foot will tread into the courts without your consent.”

“Good---“ Solaris began as an unsettling breeze brushed against his skin, and the expression of surprise came over his marquess’s face.

Solaris’s white eyes swelled as he spun to see the translucent wispy-form of Afria, lingering behind him.

“I do hope that it is not me, who you wish does not enter,” the lavender wisp spoke as she gawked at the two. “Because otherwise, your comments would mean that I am unwanted and that I am encroaching on your soil.” She let out a slight snicker. “But then again, your Golden Men did nothing to prevent my entry; nor could they have, even if they had tried.”

Zane retrieved his saber from its scabbard. “Who are you?” he asked as his eyes examined her every vapor of smoke. “Why have you come to us at this hour?”

“Zane, isn’t it?” she queried as the ogre’s face grew disturbed and nodded. “Ahh, good. I am usually terrible with names. Now, I have come for my pay.”

“I am not paying you the coin,” Solaris affirmed.

“Coins? No, no chips,” she heckled. “I demand whole shells, for your debt is owed.”

“What shells?” Zane questioned as his eyes tightened in disarray.

“For Duchess Anina’s death, of course.”

Zane turned toward Solaris. “You had our duchess killed?”

Solaris’s head tilted down, as tension developed in his voice. “I never gave the order.”

“Do not try to swindle me,” Afria sassed. “One does not acquire work for a job, one does not wish to be carried out.”

The djinn’s head jolted up as his face reddened. “But I never gave the order!”

Afria smiled, letting out a small chuckle. “No, you didn’t.”

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