The air in the Northern Kingdom grew colder as winter set in, the frosty winds biting through even the thickest of furs. Lumumba, Amara, and Jon moved through the streets of the capital with purpose, their eyes scanning every corner. The weight of their mission hung heavy now. They had to uncover the Sovereign's ties to this kingdom and figure out how deeply entrenched William's family was in the conspiracy.
"So, William's dad, huh?" Jon muttered as they passed by the imposing estate where they'd last seen William. "Guy's probably got enough money and power to run this place. I don't trust him."
Lumumba's eyes were sharp as he nodded. "You're right not to. William's a brute, but his dad? He's the real player in this game. And if he's tied to the Sovereign, then we're in deeper trouble than we thought."
Amara, her expression thoughtful, spoke up. "We need to dig into William's family. We've seen the caste system here—how the nobles live like kings while the laborers barely scrape by. His family has to be one of the highest on the food chain, and that kind of power doesn't come without a price."
Lumumba glanced at her. "Which means they're part of something bigger. If the Sovereign's got his hooks in them, we need to find out how far the corruption goes."
They made their way to a tavern near the city's military quarter. It was one of the few places in the city where information flowed freely, and they needed to find out more about William's father and his connections. The tavern was filled with mercenaries, soldiers, and traders—all of them talking about the increasing tensions in the kingdom.
Lumumba pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the fire hitting his face as the noise of laughter and clinking mugs filled the room. He approached the bar, leaning casually against it as Jon and Amara found a table nearby.
"What's the news around here?" Lumumba asked the bartender, his voice low. "Any rumors about the nobles?"
The bartender, an older man with a grizzled face, glanced at Lumumba and then around the room before leaning in. "Depends on who's asking. But I've heard talk of strange movements among the high families. Whispers of secret meetings, alliances being forged behind closed doors. And then there's that business with the fissures."
Lumumba's interest piqued at the mention of the fissures. "What about them?"
The bartender wiped down a mug, his voice lowering even more. "They say the fissures are appearing more frequently. And the nobles? They're not scared—they're excited. Word is, they've found a way to control them. Use them."
Lumumba frowned, absorbing the information. "And William's family? Where do they fit into all this?"
The bartender hesitated, clearly uneasy about talking too much. But when Lumumba slipped a few coins across the bar, the man sighed and leaned in closer. "William's old man? He's not just any noble. He's a baron—controls the northern trade routes, which makes him one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. Rumor has it, he's tied into something even bigger than the kingdom itself. Some say he's working with foreign powers. Others say he's got a direct line to the Sovereign. Whatever it is, people like you should stay far away from that mess."
Lumumba grinned, pocketing the information. "Thanks for the tip. But staying away from messes isn't really my style."
Back at the table, Amara and Jon listened as Lumumba relayed what he'd learned.
"His father's a baron? That explains a lot," Amara said, her expression darkening. "If he controls the northern trade routes, he's got the power to move armies and supplies. He's a key player in whatever's happening here."
Jon leaned back, folding his arms. "Great. So we've got a baron, a conspiracy with the Sovereign, and a kingdom on the brink. What's our next move?"
Lumumba leaned forward, his voice calm but full of resolve. "We need to confront William again. He's our way in. If we can figure out what his family's really up to, we'll get closer to the truth about the fissures—and how deep this whole thing goes."
Amara nodded. "But we have to be careful. William might be friendly with us now, but if he's forced to choose between us and his family, we know where his loyalties will lie."
Lumumba smirked. "That's the fun part. Let's make sure he has to think about it first."
Later that evening, they arranged to meet William again, this time in a more neutral location—a warrior's hall near the city's outskirts, where mercenaries and fighters gathered to trade stories and train. It was a rough place, filled with the scent of sweat and metal, and it suited William's style perfectly.
When they arrived, they found him in the middle of a sparring match, easily handling two opponents at once. His massive form moved with surprising grace, swinging his heavy axe in wide arcs that kept his opponents off balance. Lumumba watched with a smirk as William knocked one of them to the ground with a single, well-placed blow.
"Still enjoying the chaos, I see," Lumumba called out as William's match ended.
William turned, his wide grin returning. "Lumumba! Good to see you. Come to join the fun?"
"Not today," Lumumba replied, leaning against a pillar. "We've got something else in mind."
William raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Yeah? What's that?"
Amara stepped forward, her voice serious. "We need to talk about your father. And the fissures."
William's grin faltered, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. "The fissures? You're not getting mixed up in that stuff, are you? It's bad business."
Lumumba tilted his head. "You tell us. Seems like your father's pretty deep in it already. And if you're not careful, you're going to get dragged into it, too."
William hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He glanced around the room, as if making sure no one was listening, then lowered his voice.
"Look, my father's got his hands in a lot of things. The fissures, the trade routes, the nobles—they're all connected somehow. But I don't know the details. I just do what I'm told. You know how it is."
Jon leaned in, his voice skeptical. "Do you even care? Or are you just playing along because it's easier?"
William sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not that simple. My father's a powerful man. He's got connections all over. And the Sovereign? That's above my pay grade. I don't know what the endgame is, but I know one thing—if you're trying to go up against people like him, you're gonna need more than a few swords."
Lumumba smiled, his tone light but full of intent. "I'm not worried about your father, William. What I'm worried about is you. Sooner or later, you're going to have to pick a side. And when that time comes, I hope you choose wisely."
William looked away, clearly conflicted. But before he could respond, the door to the hall burst open, and a group of soldiers marched in. Their leader, a stern-faced officer, spotted William immediately.
"William, your father summons you," the officer barked. "He has urgent business with the council."
William shot a look at Lumumba, his expression torn between duty and the uneasy friendship they had developed. "I gotta go."
As he walked out with the soldiers, Lumumba turned to Amara and Jon.
"We're running out of time. His father's going to tighten his grip, and when he does, William won't be able to stay neutral for long."
Amara's eyes were hard. "Then we have to make our move soon. If William's family is tied to the Sovereign, we need to know exactly what they're planning. And if we don't… we'll be the ones caught in the crossfire."
Jon sighed. "Looks like things are about to get messy."
Lumumba smirked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Good. I like messy."