Shadowsage 2: A Fantasy Adventure, page 1
Shadowsage 2
A FANTASY ADVENTURE
SHADOWSAGE
BOOK TWO
HENRY HARDWOOD
Copyright © 2025 by Henry Hardwood
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For every guy who's ever thought, 'I could totally handle a harem.' This one's for you.
Contents
1. A Line in the Sand
2. Good Scales
3. Let there be Light
4. Triad for clarity
5. The Pleasures of Breathing
6. Kira and the Warehouse
7. Celestia and the Salon
8. Crossing the Chasm
9. The Good Mayor
10. Battle on the Walls
11. The Stench of Victory
12. Marshgate Raid
13. A Paper Noose
14. Mayoral Maintenance
15. Red vs Blue
16. Celestia’s Gift
17. Challenged
18. Choosing a Champion
19. The Cage
20. Legendary Forging
21. Aurelia’s Oath
22. Aurelia’s Fear
23. King Oscar and the Terms
24. Inspection
25. Gearing Up and Kisses
26. Battle to the Death
27. A Summons
28. Rolling Rolling Rolling
29. Aethoria
30. A Masquerade of Blades
31. Whispers
32. In the Name of the King
33. Home
Afterword
About the Author
Also by Henry Hardwood
For more Harem Lit Adventures
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Chapter 1
A Line in the Sand
“We should just walk in, slit a few throats, and call it a night,” Kira said as the carriage rocked around us.
“Patience, my pet,” I said, running a hand along her toned and leather-clad thigh, enjoying the smooth warmth. “Tonight’s weapons are words, not blades or hardened shadows.”
“Would be hard to win their support for Kaelus if they can’t breathe, wouldn’t it?” Celestia said. She wore a red and blue silken dress that made her purple eyes pop, and her blonde hair hung loose down to the small of her back. “And no, I am not giving myself to Kaelus early in the hopes of awakening necromancy.” She winked at Kira while her hand found mine, giving it a squeeze, taking away any sting.
Not that there was any. I’d wait as long as it took for her to get comfortable with our union, and enjoy every moment along the way.
“Two weeks of sixteen-hour days,” Vera said and yawned, stretching so her tits nearly popped out of her blouse. “And now the bitch wants to call you in on her carpet?”
“It takes time for nervousness to spread,” I said, smiling at my clever and beautiful girls.
Two weeks had passed since the citizens of Whisperwind chanted my name in the square as the new mayor of Whisperwind.
I’d started an open door policy, letting any citizen bring their complaints and ideas and fear to city hall, all while working on three projects to transform the lives of the regular Whisperwindians.
And it seemed to have finally drawn the ire of the city’s nobles, those who were not the primary beneficiaries of my three policies.
The Night-Lamp grid would bathe the Lower Wards in a soft light and significantly reduce crime. Well, the visible crime anyway. Kira had guaranteed it.
Vera had come up with the Good Scales certifications, made to combat the grift and cheating of traders. The certifications would be issued in the Merchant’s Square, granting the shopkeepers’ an official seals to display on their door as a public promise of honest weight for honest coin.
And Celestia had come up with the idea for the Dockmaster Triad, which would make graft a far more dangerous proposition than it had been in a century.
Each reform would be a public, auditable receipt of my competence. And each one was a direct spit in the eye of the old guard who had let this city rot while they feasted in their manors.
Which was precisely why Fluffles drove us towards the gates of just such a manor.
“Do we really need them?” Vera asked for what felt like the thousandth time. “We’ve got enough proof to hang them all.”
“Celestia?” I asked as the carriage slowed.
“We can have them all removed,” my lovely elf said. “It would be easy, and a complete waste. Kaelus must become the duke, and he needs the nobles’ support to do so.”
“But if we raise new nobles in their positions, they can vote for Kaelus,” Vera said.
“And I get to stick my blades in Patricia’s gut and see if she bleeds as black as I think,” Kira said, frowning. Her lust for revenge on her brother’s killer had not cooled the closer she got to her target.
I raised my hand and they all quieted. “We’ve been through this. Trust me, my darlings. I’ve done this before. Corrupt nobles, over whom we have power, are far easier to move than ones who see themselves as pure and honorable. Besides, if we replaced them all now, the Forum would return. Elara is not so proud she thinks herself above mistakes. She is the most clever foe in all of Etherwynn.”
“Aside from you, master,” Kira said as our carriage slowed, rolling to a halt.
“Well see,” I said, pulling her in and giving her a quick kiss. “Won’t we?”
I closed my eyes and sent my Shadow Sense out into the night, sensing and counting the living beings around us while Fluffles hopped down and walked to our door.
He rapped on it twice.
“Not an ambush. There’s only a standard guard contingency outside, with only an apprentice mage among them,” I said to the girls.
“Nobles?” Celestia asked.
“Twenty people are gathered in the salon,” I said.
“Seems we’ve flushed most of the pests into the light, then,” she said and smiled.
“I still think we should get to come,” Kira said, standing and pouting.
“You just want to stick a blade in Patricia,” Vera said. “And if you go too, who is to entertain me while Kaelus and Celestia are gone?”
Kira sighed. “Fine.”
I spanked her buttocks before giving Vera a kiss.
As I was about to leave, I gave her tits a gentle squeeze. “For good luck,” I said.
“Always,” she said, giving them a little shake.
“You are all incurable,” Celestia said.
Fluffles opened the carriage door and I nodded my thanks before stepping out and offering Celestia a hand down.
“But, this is an ambush, Kaelus,” Celestia said as she glided by my side, her posture perfect. “The Dowager Countess has not returned from the capital to be hospitable. This ‘salon’ is a test. She wants to bring you to heel.”
“Good,” I said, keeping my voice low as we followed a servant who waved impatiently for us to follow. “The more disappointed she gets, the more angry, the easier it will be to take her down.”
The Dowager Countess Valessa Dunraven, matriarch of Whisperwind’s most powerful conservative noble house and the undisputed tyrant of its social circles, had extended a ‘cordial invitation’ to her exclusive salon. It was a summons, not a request. Word of my popular reforms to be implemented had travelled fast to the capital, together with how my names was talked of in the streets.
Now she wanted to put the upstart mayor in his place.
Instead of heading into her mansion, which Kira and Vera had visited twice, robbing their vault underneath her daughter’s nose, we went for her salon.
Named the Silver Garden Conclave, an invitation to attend was the most coveted one for the city’s nobles, according to Celestia.
The servant stopped near the building and indicated for us to enter, deliberately not opening the door for me, the city’s mayor.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at the pettiness and opened the glass door. Warm air rushed across my face. I followed Celestia in, taking the moment where everyone gazed at her to look around. The walls were all window, and together with the glass-paned roof arching overhead it created the sensation of being outdoors. Enchanted fire crystals hummed on the walls, making it feel like a perfect summer’s day inside, and keeping the city’s perpetual chill out. Manicured hedges and flowerbeds that might have drawn an approving nod from Fluffles created intimate seating areas.
Nobles in silks and velvets lounged on divans, sipping wine from crystal flutes. The battlefield of the rich.
Every eye in the room turned to us as we entered, and a woman with purple-dyed hair whispered ‘bastard’ around her mouthful of cake.
I had no doubt Celestia had picked up the whispered comment with those beautiful and pointed ears of her, yet she remained calm, her expression a mask of polite neutrality as she cataloged every face.
At the center of the room, perched upon a throne-like divan, sat Valessa Dunraven. Her silver hair was piled in an elaborate coif, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears like a knight’s armor. Her face showed nothing but aristocratic disdain, as if I were barely noble at all.
At her side stood Lord Corvin Redmarsh, a cavalry baron whose family had controlled the river trade for generations. He postured like a preening rooster, his hand resting on the pommel of his ceremonial sword, his expression a mixture of arrogance and brutish force.
“How good of you to finally grace us with your presence, Mayor Vex,” Valessa said. “We expected you two days ago.”
“My apologies, Countess,” I said, walking slowly through the room. “Reforming a city from decades of neglect is rather time-consuming.”
A ripple of murmurs passed through the room at my not so subtle accusation.
Valessa’s smile didn’t waver, but a flicker of annoyance sparked in her eyes. “So we’ve heard. Such… energy. Do come, be presented. There is a seat for you here.” She gestured to a low, backless stool placed near her feet. A seat for a supplicant. A seat for a dog.
I stopped where I was.
“Thank you for the offer, Countess, but I am not here to be presented,” I said. “I am here as the duly elected mayor of this city, to speak with its most influential citizens.”
The polite chatter died. Crystal flutes paused halfway to painted lips.
“Indeed?” Valessa said, her smile tightening. “And what pressing matters of state could possibly require such a… public forum?”
I let my gaze sweep across the assembled nobles, meeting their curious and hostile stares without flinching.
Lord Whitewings smiled coldly. Lady Drusilla Thorne sneered at Celestia. Lord Croft sipped his wine, giving no indication as to his feelings.
“The matter of our city’s future,” I said, my voice filling the glass-roofed salon. “Whisperwind has been governed by traded whispers among the already powerful. It has been a city run by favors exchanged in the dark, and its traditions serve the few at the expense of the many.”
Lord Redmarsh shifted, his hand tightening on his sword. “Are you suggesting there is something amiss with how our great families have guided this city?”
“I am not suggesting it, Lord Redmarsh. I am stating it as a fact.” I gestured vaguely toward the windows, toward the city sprawling beyond this bubble of privilege. “Your family controls the river tolls, do they not? Ask the ferrymen how ‘guided’ they feel when your guards skim from their earnings. Your sewer lines haven’t been properly maintained in twenty years, leading to flooding in the Lower Wards every spring. The bridge to the artisan quarter has been in disrepair for a decade. These are not whispers, favors, or tradition. They are facts. Facts that can be found in the city’s own ledgers, should one care to look. I would know, because we have.”
A heavy silence descended.
“I was elected on a promise of change,” I continued. “A new era of governance for Whisperwind, for the people. An era defined by receipts, not rumors. Where governance is brought from the hush and into the light.”
“Every contract, every tax collection, every expenditure of public funds will be a matter of public record, posted weekly on the green board in the Merchant’s Square for any citizen to review. The time for secrets is over.”
Your secrets, anyway. Mine will stay safe in the shadows.
I fought back a smile.
Valessa Dunraven rose from her divan. “How very… populist of you, Mayor. I am unsure whether the rabble will appreciate your arithmetic, though. What I can guarantee is that you will find governing is more than balancing ledgers. It requires an understanding of nuance, of history. Of the tradition, on which you seem to spit.”
“Tradition is a guide, Countess, not a cage,” I said. “And I find the citizens of this city are more interested in safe streets and fair trade than they are in the nuances of who dines with whom.” I gave her a polite, dismissive bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a city to run. The first public ledger review is scheduled for two days from now, at noon. I invite you all to attend.”
A steward began to scribble. Redmarsh’s jaw worked like a bull chewing bridle.
I turned, Celestia still the perfect partner on my arm.
As we walked, out, Valessa forced a chuckle, and said, “Enjoy your meagre taste of power, mayor. This morsel will have to last you a long time,” apparently not wanting me to have the last word. “What do you think Duke Tolle will do when he hears his recently elected mayor is breaking his city?”
“I think King Oscar likes two things, your grace,” I said without turning. “Profit and spectacle. I intend to give him both without ceding the purse strings.”
Whispers sprang up around the room.
Not only did I dare utter the name of the king, I’d drawn a line in the sand. Every noble in the room now understood they would have to choose which side they were on.
As I opened the door for my elven beauty, a page boy rushed in, his arms full of what looked like freshly printed broadsheets. One slipped from his grasp and I snapped the fluttering paper before it could fall.
It was of high quality, the ink still faintly damp. At the top, in elegant, flowing script, was a single word: ‘Candor’.
Beneath it was a scathing and anonymous attack on my character, accusing me of being a dangerous demagogue with hidden motives, a leecher, a sinner, and a threat to the city’s stability.
It was masterfully written. While correct in its conclusion, it was filled with enough half-truths and insidious implications to poison public opinion against me.
I looked back.
Valessa Dunraven had retaken her seat on the divan. She met my gaze across the room and raised her crystal flute in a silent, mocking toast.
The game, it seemed, had already begun.
“Her prose is effective in its appeal to the anxieties of the merchant class and the fears of the poor,” Celestia noted once we were back in the carriage, and she handed Vera the paper.
“It’s a piece of shit,” Kira growled. “Gimmie me five minutes with her and I’ll she’ll scream the name of the printer. In a bad way. Gimmie another twenty, and the press’ll be burning. Mysteriously.”
“Tempting,” I said, “but we won’t let her dictate the fight. Arson and intimidation will only prove her right. Once we won the mayorship we stepped into the light, so we must fight with tools we can afford the public to see, remember?”
Vera looked up to frown out of the window. “If she controls the word in the salons then we’ll need to control it in the streets.”
“We will,” I said. “The Night-Lamps go live in the Lower Wards tonight. The people will see tangible results, and how we bring light to push back the darkness.”
The carriage rolled to a stop before our mansion and despite having driven us there, Mr. Fluffles somehow still managed to greet us with a tray of restorative tea.
“Valorhidian Green, Master?” he inquired, pouring the steaming liquid into porcelain cups.
“Oh yes, please,” I said, taking a cup, letting the warmth seep into my hands, pushing back the autumns cold.
We gathered in my study, the world map a silent witness on the wall.
The Candor letter lay on my mahogany desk, a declaration of war.
“This is her opening salvo,” I said, gesturing to the letter. “She’ll expect me to react, to get defensive, to be drawn into a war of words. We will not give her the satisfaction.” I took a sip of tea. “Instead, we accelerate. Vera, I want you to finalize the procurement for the Good Scales program. I want the first certification kiosks installed and operational in the Merchant’s Square within two weeks.”
“It’ll be tight, but I can do it if Kira's people 'persuaded' the cartage guild to prioritize my shipments and maybe you can get the Scribes’ Guild to expedite the paperwork, Celestia?”
“Easy,” Kira said, while Celestia simply nodded.
“Good,” I said. “Celestia, the Night-Lamp rollout tonight is critical. I don’t want a single crystal flickering. And Kira, I want your people walking the lamplighters’ routes, ensuring their safety. No sabotage, no intimidation. I want that grid to be a beacon.”
“My people are in position,” Kira said. “The lamplighters will be safer than the Duke in his keep.”
“And what about…this?” Vera asked, waving the paper.
“Celestia?” I asked, putting a hand on her lower back, feeling her soft skin beneath the thin silk.
“Once the lamplighters are working, I will invade the salons and fight across the teacups,” she said. “I’ve gotten dozens of invitations after Kaelus named me Chief of Staff at city hall. I will go, let them oogle and gossip about me, and there I will reframe Valessa’s slander. By the time I am done with them, civic duty will be the latest fashion.”
