The Last Human: Unlimited Power, Unlimited Beauties

A few days passed.

Very productive days.

Diplomatically?

Not especially.

Personally?

Excellent.

My nights had developed a suspicious habit of involving either Nemris or Zeria, and occasionally the realization that sleep was apparently an optional activity reserved for people with less interesting lives.

I was beginning to understand why royal beds were so comfortable.

They were compensation.

The universe knew people living inside castles had to deal with politics, assassination attempts, foreign wars, secret identities, beautiful women, and servants who occasionally walked in on things they would spend the rest of their lives trying to forget.

So it gave us soft mattresses.

Fair trade.

For several nights, Nemris found reasons to visit.

Some reasons were more convincing than others.

”Guarding you” remained my personal favorite.

Zeria was less interested in excuses.

She simply appeared.

Sometimes through the door.

Sometimes through the balcony.

Sometimes with the expression of someone who had absolutely already decided what the evening would involve and considered my opinion an entertaining formality.

Those nights were fun.

Very fun.

Unfortunately, fun had apparently reached its government-approved limit.

Because one morning, a knight appeared outside my room and informed me that the king required my presence in the throne room.

No explanation.

No warning.

Just:

”The king summons you, Sir Caled.”

Wonderful.

Nothing had ever gone wrong after someone important summoned me to a giant room filled with armed witnesses.

I dressed.

Properly.

Mostly.

Then followed the knight through the castle.

We passed through familiar corridors, climbed one enormous staircase, crossed a gallery lined with paintings of dead royals staring judgmentally at everyone still alive, then finally arrived at the massive doors leading into the throne room.

The guards opened them.

I stepped inside.

The familiar red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way toward the raised royal platform.

Knights lined both sides.

Lots of knights.

Silver armor.

Golden lion crests.

Swords.

Spears.

Perfect posture.

The sort of formation that made casual conversation feel like it should require written permission.

I started walking.

My boots clicked against polished stone.

Hundreds of eyes tracked me.

No pressure.

At the far end sat the royal family and the Great Sage.

King Viar occupied his throne in the center.

He looked considerably happier than the last few times I had been summoned into this room, which either meant excellent news or he had finally accepted that war gave him an excuse to swing a sword.

Beside him sat Queen Milfy.

Elegant.

Composed.

Watching everything.

Zeria occupied her own seat nearby, looking approximately five minutes away from getting bored and attempting to entertain herself with magic.

She wore something more formal today, though she had somehow still managed to make herself look cute enough that anyone unfamiliar with her might assume she was somebody’s cheerful younger sister rather than one of the most dangerous political minds in the kingdom.

Nemris stood between Viar’s position and Zeria’s.

Armor.

Full Lord Commander mode.

Gold.

Steel.

Sword.

Back to looking capable of arresting weather if it inconvenienced the kingdom.

Quite the contrast from the maid outfit.

I wisely kept that thought entirely inside my skull.

Across the platform stood Leyra.

That caught my attention immediately.

I had not seen much of her over the past several days.

Not because anything had happened between us.

Quite the opposite.

The last meaningful private moment between us had involved a moonlit garden, dancing, kissing, and the important discovery that telling a crown princess you wanted her instead of her throne could produce extremely pleasant results.

But afterward?

Busy.

She had royal responsibilities.

I had apparently developed a social schedule that would have killed a less durable man.

Leyra had spent most of the past few days dealing with crown-princess duties, preparations, meetings, and whatever other tasks came with being the future ruler of an entire kingdom.

Now she stood beside her parents.

Golden hair neatly arranged.

Royal clothing rather than a combat outfit.

Beautiful.

Composed.

And judging by the way she looked at me when I approached, curious about the same thing I was.

Why were we here?

I stopped at the appropriate distance.

Viar leaned slightly forward.

”Sir Caled.”

”Your Majesty.”

His mouth curved.

”How have your last few days been?”

I glanced toward Nemris.

Nemris’s expression did not move.

Professional.

Then toward Zeria.

Zeria smiled.

Suspiciously.

I returned my attention to the king.

”Eventful.”

Nemris looked away.

Zeria’s smile became larger.

Milfy noticed both of them.

Of course she did.

That woman noticed everything.

Viar fortunately did not ask for details.

Excellent king.

He nodded.

”Then I am afraid your next few days are likely to become even more eventful.”

There it was.

I sighed internally.

Peace had lasted almost an entire sentence.

Impressive.

Viar reached beside his throne and picked up a small rolled piece of parchment.

Not a grand royal scroll.

Not a treaty thick enough to kill someone if thrown correctly.

A simple letter.

He lifted it.

”This arrived from Agran.”

I straightened slightly.

That got everyone’s attention, even though they obviously already knew.

”Supreme General Rel?”

Viar nodded.

”So she finally replied.”

”She did.”

Good.

The last time I had spoken with Rel, she had promised to approach Queen Firsa carefully.

One conversation.

One opportunity.

She had made it very clear that Firsa was not the type of ruler who enjoyed hearing the same argument twice.

Rel had needed the right moment.

Apparently she had found it.

Viar unrolled the letter.

”Queen Firsa has accepted the conditions regarding the captured Agranian forces.”

A smile began forming across his face.

More importantly, Queen Milfy relaxed.

Zeria’s shoulders dropped.

Leyra’s expression brightened.

Even Nemris allowed herself the smallest smile.

Tiny.

Barely there.

But genuine.

Viar continued.

”The negotiations between Inizio and Agran are officially reopened.”

There it was.

Not peace.

Not yet.

But the door had opened.

Again.

A few weeks ago both kingdoms had been marching toward war.

Then armies clashed.

Generals were captured.

A traitorous councilman revealed himself.

And somehow the result was diplomacy.

Politics was strange.

You could punch someone hard enough and apparently unlock conversation options.

Viar smiled widely now.

”Supreme General Rel has convinced Queen Firsa to receive our representative.”

His gaze settled on me.

Here we go.

”As planned, you will travel to Agran.”

I nodded.

No surprise.

”And Crown Princess Leyra will accompany you.”

I looked toward Leyra.

She looked at me.

There was something subtle in her smile.

Anticipation.

Maybe nerves.

Probably both.

I gave her a slight smile back.

Viar continued.

”You will speak on behalf of Inizio and attempt to negotiate a truce directly with Queen Firsa.”

Directly with the queen.

No pressure.

Just walk into another kingdom, sit across from a Tigerkin ruler who supposedly disliked repeated arguments, and convince her not to go to war.

Simple.

Could probably finish before lunch.

Viar leaned back.

”I will have the royal carriage prepared.”

Of course.

”And our finest knights will accompany you.”

That made me raise a hand.

”Quick question.”

Viar looked at me.

”When you say finest knights...”

My eyes moved toward Nemris.

”...does that include the Lord Commander?”

Nemris’s expression remained unreadable.

Zeria answered instead.

”No.”

I looked at her.

She shook her head.

”I’m afraid Nemris cannot accompany you.”

”Why?”

Zeria folded her hands.

”Because of the message it would send.”

I raised an eyebrow.

”Having the strongest knight escort your crown princess seems reasonable.”

”It would be reasonable inside Inizio.”

Ah.

”But not diplomatically.”

Zeria nodded.

”Exactly.”

She leaned slightly forward.

”Sending our Lord Commander alongside our crown princess and diplomat could be interpreted as a display of military pressure.”

I considered it.

An armed royal delegation arriving with Nemris Goldmane?

Yeah.

That could look less like peace talks and more like:

Hello, we brought diplomacy and also the woman who personally defeated your general.

Choose wisely.

Zeria continued.

”We are trying to show that Inizio is approaching Agran peacefully.”

”So bringing Nemris risks looking arrogant.”

”Or threatening.”

Nemris nodded.

”I agree.”

I looked at her.

No disappointment?

There was some.

Very faint.

But professionally, she clearly understood.

Queen Milfy spoke.

”We will still send capable knights.”

Her brown eyes settled on me.

”But ultimately, Sir Caled...”

Here it comes.

”We are entrusting Leyra’s safety to you.”

I looked toward the crown princess.

Leyra maintained perfect composure.

I knew better.

The woman secretly spent years beating fighters unconscious in an underground arena.

Protect Leyra.

Sure.

If somebody tried attacking her, there was a fair chance my biggest responsibility would be protecting the attacker from discovering why people once called her the Merciless Lioness.

Naturally, her family knew none of this.

Viar thought his eldest daughter was an intelligent, delicate royal woman who could not fight.

Milfy seemed more perceptive, but as far as I knew even she did not know Leyra’s secret.

Nemris certainly did not.

And I was not about to expose her.

So I nodded.

”Don’t worry.”

Milfy watched me.

”The princess will be safe with me.”

Leyra’s eyes warmed.

Milfy smiled.

Then added, ”I believe you.”

Pause.

”I know the two of you have been getting along rather well.”

Oh.

No.

Her smile changed.

”Perhaps too well.”

Leyra stiffened.

”Mother.”

Quiet.

Mortified.

Beautiful.

Milfy’s smile became almost innocent.

It was not.

I glanced toward Leyra.

She refused to look at me now.

Interesting.

Nemris’s eyes shifted toward her sister.

Zeria looked delighted.

Viar seemed confused enough that I suspected nobody had explained the garden dance situation to him.

Good.

Let’s keep His Majesty alive.

I cleared my throat.

”Your confidence in me is deeply appreciated, Your Majesty.”

Milfy’s eyes sparkled.

She absolutely knew something.

Not everything.

But something.

Viar thankfully returned us to matters involving fewer romantic landmines.

”The journey to Agran will be long.”

His expression hardened.

”And potentially dangerous.”

There it was.

Of course.

Because nothing in my life could simply involve sitting in a carriage and enjoying scenery.

”How dangerous?”

”We do not know.”

Wonderful answer.

Viar rested one arm against the throne.

”There are factions on both sides that do not want peace.”

I nodded slowly.

That made sense.

Garren had attacked Agranian merchants because of anti-Tigerkin prejudice.

Yori openly seemed to hate Queen Firsa.

Balder had actively tried engineering a military disaster.

And that was only Inizio.

Agran presumably contained its own collection of lunatics.

Viar continued.

”Some people benefit from hostility.”

”Power.”

”Influence.”

”Territory.”

”Revenge.”

”All the classics.”

Viar ignored that.

”We expect there may be attempts to interfere with your journey.”

Leyra’s expression became serious.

”So you’ve received information?”

”Nothing specific.”

He looked toward his daughter.

”But we would be foolish to assume everyone welcomes these negotiations.”

Fair.

He returned his gaze to me.

”Consider this warning rather than intelligence.”

I nodded.

”I appreciate it.”

”Do not only watch the roads.”

His voice lowered.

”Danger may exist inside Agran itself.”

That mattered more.

Viar continued.

”Even after you enter Queen Firsa’s castle, observe everyone.”

”Servants?”

”Officials.”

”Guards?”

”Everyone.”

I smiled faintly.

”So diplomacy.”

Viar gave me a dry look.

”Exactly.”

I nodded.

”I’ll keep my eyes open.”

There was another question bothering me.

”If Queen Firsa accepted the condition, then the prisoners need to be released.”

Zeria nodded.

”Yes.”

”Are they coming with us?”

”No.”

That answer came immediately.

I looked toward her.

Zeria explained.

”We will give you a town portal scroll before departure.”

Useful.

”Once you reach Agran, you will activate it.”

”And send the prisoners through.”

”Most of them.”

I caught the wording.

”Most?”

Zeria’s expression changed.

”Lord Balder remains here.”

Ah.

Bald treason enthusiast.

Of course.

”He is an Inizio noble who committed crimes against his own kingdom.”

”Meaning we prosecute him.”

Viar nodded.

”Correct.”

I frowned slightly.

”Would Agran consider that a violation of the prisoner agreement?”

Viar’s face did something unexpected.

He looked amused.

Actually amused.

”Funnily enough...”

That phrase coming from a king during international negotiations was usually a bad sign.

”...Supreme General Rel specifically stated in her letter that Agran wants nothing to do with Lord Balder.”

I stared.

”They just abandoned him?”

”Essentially.”

I almost felt bad.

Almost.

”They discarded the bald guy like expired vegetables.”

Zeria covered a laugh.

Nemris’s mouth twitched.

Viar looked like he wanted to smile but was remembering he was king.

”Balder approached Agran with betrayal in mind.”

That aligned with what Treez had shouted after the battle.

”He manipulated their forces.”

”Yes.”

”And now they don’t even want him back.”

”No.”

I nodded solemnly.

”Poor bald bastard.”

Nemris looked at me.

”Caled.”

”What?”

”He committed treason.”

”I didn’t say innocent bald bastard.”

Leyra covered her mouth.

Definitely hiding a laugh.

Viar rolled up the letter.

”Prepare today.”

His voice returned to royal-command mode.

”You leave tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow.

Good.

Plenty of time.

Probably.

I bowed.

”As you command.”

The meeting ended shortly afterward.

I left the throne room.

Walked through the enormous doors.

Then realized something.

I had nowhere specific to go.

Preparation?

Sure.

I owned clothing.

I had Dimensional Storage.

Half my possessions could fit inside a magical space with less organization than my Earth apartment.

What exactly was I supposed to prepare?

Emotional stability?

Too late.

So I wandered.

Aimlessly.

Just sightseeing around the castle.

This place was enormous enough that random wandering remained surprisingly entertaining.

One corridor contained armor displays.

Another had historical tapestries.

I passed a courtyard where knights trained with spears.

A gallery filled with paintings.

Several staircases.

A kitchen entrance I probably wasn’t supposed to enter.

Then another staircase.

I turned left.

Right.

Another left.

Eventually I stopped.

Dark stone walls.

Fewer windows.

More guards.

Heavy reinforced doors.

I looked around.

Huh.

Where was I?

One of the knights stationed nearby bowed.

”Sir Caled.”

I nodded.

”Good morning.”

The guard beside him bowed too.

Neither asked why I was there.

Which was fortunate.

Because I had no idea.

I looked toward the large iron-reinforced doorway ahead.

Bars.

Runes.

Additional guards.

Oh.

Dungeon.

Of course.

I had somehow accidentally sightseeing-touristed my way into prison.

Excellent navigation.

One guard approached politely.

”Are you here to visit one of the Agranian generals, Sir?”

I should have said no.

I should have explained that I was lost.

I should have turned around and preserved the illusion that the kingdom’s diplomat knew where he was going.

Instead:

”Sure.”

Why?

No idea.

The knight nodded as if everything now made perfect sense.

”Please follow me.”

And just like that, I had accidentally scheduled a prison visit.

The guards unlocked the entrance.

We descended into the dungeon.

I expected misery.

Chains.

Darkness.

People coughing dramatically in corners.

Maybe rats with government positions.

Instead, it was surprisingly clean.

Still a prison.

Stone cells.

Iron bars.

Magic suppression runes.

Guards everywhere.

But not cruel.

The Agranian soldiers captured at Dahera Plane occupied several large holding areas.

They had blankets.

Decent clothing.

Food.

Water.

Nobody looked starved.

Nobody looked beaten.

Smart.

Very smart.

If you planned on negotiating peace, torturing prisoners before returning them was generally considered poor relationship building.

I walked past several cells.

Some soldiers watched me.

They recognized me.

That was obvious.

Whispers followed.

The Lone Spriggan.

Diplomat.

Guy who helped turn their carefully planned ambush into a very expensive group nap.

I kept walking.

Then I reached Remgar.

The massive Tigerkin sat inside his cell.

Without his black armor, he somehow looked even larger.

His injuries had been treated.

Bandages wrapped sections of his torso and arms.

He wore ordinary clothing now.

Not prison rags.

Simple but clean.

The suppression restraints remained around his wrists.

Massive black cuffs.

Red orb.

Runes.

Enough magical insurance to keep Rampage from becoming everybody’s problem.

Remgar looked up.

Saw me.

Then smiled.

Actually smiled.

Not angry.

Not hostile.

Almost amused.

Interesting.

I slowed.

”You’re looking healthier.”

Remgar’s smile widened.

”I recover quickly.”

”Good. I was worried the fire might have ruined your complexion.”

He laughed.

Deep.

Apparently nearly roasting him alive had created rapport.

Men were simple creatures.

I kept walking.

The knight followed.

I glanced around.

”Lord Balder isn’t kept here?”

The knight shook his head.

”No, Sir.”

”Different section?”

”This dungeon is reserved for foreign prisoners.”

Ah.

Balder received domestic traitor accommodations.

Probably fewer complimentary towels.

”Makes sense.”

We continued.

The next important prisoner was Gia.

The Shadow of the Throne.

Without her combat equipment, she looked completely different.

Gone were the dark assassin clothes that had made her resemble violence given legs.

Now she wore simple clothing provided by Inizio.

Clean.

Comfortable.

The restraints remained.

Her face was uncovered.

That was the first time I had gotten a proper look at her without battle trying to happen around us.

And...

Huh.

She had an almost innocent face.

Soft features.

Beautiful.

Extremely beautiful.

Not what I expected from a woman whose preferred communication method involved daggers appearing from darkness.

She looked like somebody’s quiet younger sister.

If somebody’s quiet younger sister could probably remove your kidneys before you noticed she entered the room.

Gia saw me.

Her eyes narrowed immediately.

No smile.

No greeting.

Just suspicion.

Fair.

I smiled politely.

”Morning.”

Nothing.

Cold.

Professional.

I appreciated consistency.

We continued.

One final cell waited farther down.

The knight slowed.

Then stopped.

Naturally, I stopped too.

Because he stopped.

Then I realized what had happened.

He thought this was my destination.

Of course.

I had asked about generals.

Looked at Remgar.

Looked at Gia.

And now the last remaining general was...

Treez.

I looked inside.

The Legion Magus sat comfortably near the rear of the cell.

Her red hair was loose.

Her black eyes lifted the moment she noticed me.

Like the others, she had been given different clothing.

Simple.

Clean.

Nothing resembling her battlefield mage attire.

Suppression cuffs enclosed her wrists.

Which was probably wise considering she could hide armies, summon enormous fire spells, throw light blades, manipulate wind, and generally make everybody’s day worse through magic.

Treez smiled.

Meaningfully.

Oh no.

I knew that smile.

She thought I was here intentionally.

Worse.

She was already building theories.

Fantastic.

I had wandered into the dungeon because my sense of direction had committed suicide, and now one of Agran’s smartest generals was about to interpret my stupidity as strategy.

Treez rose slowly.

Her smile deepened.

”What could Inizio’s famous diplomat possibly want from me?”

I looked toward the knight.

Then back at Treez.

Options.

One: admit I was lost.

Two: leave.

Three: improvise so aggressively that reality itself became embarrassed.

We all knew which one I was choosing.

I turned toward the guard.

”You can leave us.”

The knight bowed immediately.

”Of course, Sir.”

He walked away.

Treez’s smile widened.

Ah.

Perfect.

Now she definitely believed I had come here specifically for a secret conversation.

Meanwhile, inside my head:

I WAS LOST.

The knight disappeared around the corner.

Treez moved closer to the bars.

Her black eyes studied me with open interest.

”There are only two reasons I can imagine you visiting me now.”

I folded my arms.

Please share them.

I would also like to know why I’m here.

Treez continued.

”Either Queen Firsa rejected your conditions...”

Her gaze sharpened.

”...or she accepted them.”

I nodded slowly.

Very wise, Caled.

Both possibilities covered.

Excellent strategy.

Treez tilted her head.

”And if she accepted...”

That smile returned.

”...perhaps the diplomat who must face her wants advice.”

Oh.

Good.

That worked.

I could use that.

Treez stepped closer.

”Advice from someone who understands the queen.”

I nodded again.

Like I had planned this entire conversation from the beginning.

”Exactly.”

Inside:

THANK YOU FOR WRITING THE PLOT FOR ME.

I placed one hand casually against the bars.

”I’ve heard you’re the wisest of the three generals being held here.”

Treez’s eyebrows lifted.

I maintained eye contact.

Confidence.

Essential.

Did I hear that from anyone?

No.

Not one person.

Nobody.

I had invented it approximately half a second before speaking.

But Treez didn’t know that.

Hopefully.

Her smile became smaller.

More pleased.

”You flatter me.”