ã€ŠThe Golden Princessã€‹


 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (1)

    The sunlight of the waning noon beamed into the room, disparate flotsam caught glittering in the rays. There was one occupant. She was sitting in a chair, one of four set round a low-slung table; each elegantly carved, painted, and cushioned. Leaning forward, she lifted a piece of porcelain off of a folded hand-towel and poured its contents into her cup. It was rosey, the gentle smell of flowers belying its nature as a delicate tea. Scant dust motes fell onto its surface, their effulgence not yet submerged beneath the flux of its surface. Setting the pot back down, Princess Renner brought the cup to her mouth, and drank.

    This tastes better, though not by much. The steep time is as pointed as I¡¯m going to get it. Any refinements beyond that are incremental, ascents not worth the time nor effort. Only a better tea, then.

    Despite her regal bearing, she insisted on doing some things herself. This was one of those, and in the making of tea, she was a practiced master. This tea was from the south, imported on request she had made in party talk with the last visiting delegation of the Holy Kingdom. She had long ago grown tired of the mistakes made by her maidstaff, and had given serious consideration to doing the same for the cooking she ate.

    Such a thing would mark me as a laughing stock, one deserving only of derision and diaphony, or perhaps ¡°from¡±. It would be a discordant bevy of voices, even the Royals would find their snickers behind closed doors. Still, the practice ought not to be too hard. Just knife-work and timing, no?

    To the common people of Re-Estize, she was a symbol of national pride, a prime beauty whose hand in marriage was a genuine reserve of national strength. To the feuding highbloods Renner was counted among, she was a source of comic relief. Twisting jabs found their way to her ears, in conversations hurriedly and conspicuously quieted when she approached. The idea of the Third Princess cooking for herself would become another seed for riotous laughter, afield even the wildest musings that the nobility dared to indulge. She took another sip and sighed, confirming her disappointment in its flavor.

    Shame, I was looking forward to this. Too bitter for me, though, perhaps not for him.

    She let her mind drift, a slow smile building across her face. His dusty blond hair, the precious smile he gave when embarrassed. Standing half a span above her height, his verdant blue eyes gave him a striking look. Well fed by the standards of the Kingdom, he had built muscle and a healthy figure. He was toned, and his hands had calloused from his prodigious sword training. He was ostensibly her adjutant bodyguard, though this title was reductive in the extreme. Climb was Renner¡¯s favorite thing in the world.

    I¡¯ll need to let him try this, this should definitely be to his taste. He seems to have a preference for the bitter. This should work to that end.

    Her affections for him, when noticed by her keen-eyed contemporaries, were constructed as a teenage fancy; a teenage girl attracted to a teenage boy. It was a rote conclusion, but one that missed the mark entirely in its scope, scale, and character. Climb was not some base flit of a girl in the spring of her life and the summer of her adolescence. Physical appeal was certainly a component - the court doctor estimating that he was at most a year younger than her - but Renner held deeper interest in him. He was loyal, training himself not for his own ends, but for hers. Her feelings were not just holistic, but of an intensity far greater than most; an intensity that sharpened her. He was her obsession; all that she did, she did so a future with him could be guaranteed to her. This made it all the worse that he was not in the room with her.

    Others seem to make the strangest conclusions about him, see him as just an urchin I plucked from the street. At least father understands, or at more so than the rest.

    To the nobility of the Re-Estize Kingdom, the third daughter of King Ramposa III, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself, was nothing more than a pretty face. Though she held a title for her actions against the slave trade, the Golden Princess, it often meant little for her treatment or perception. Her affection was dismissed without a care. She was dismissed in general; to all but her closest confidants, she was known as a dullard, and as a witless princess. She had long since grown accustomed to such reductions, and for the most part, given up on trying to convince others to the contrary. Try as she might, she was still unable to extend the same feeling of detachment when he was insulted.

    I need to see him.

    A sudden sense of mid-afternoon malaise gripped her, and she broke herself from her thoughts before she let herself become too embroiled in well-worn ires.

    I¡¯ll summon him soon.

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    Eventually, she settled on the make of her chair. Its textiles were not local, but due to soil conditions from the southern portions of the kingdom. The logistic accomplishment of the chair¡¯s existence, between acquisition of materials, training of carpentry talent, and the studious upcharges that brokers levied every step of the way had meant that the cost levied in its acquisition exceeded the monthly salary of most residents of the kingdom. This room was furnished with six.

    This is horribly inefficient. First off, with better domestication and interbreeding, the Kingdom probably could have grown cottons further north. Bypassing traders'' fees and the taxes people paid to enter and exit the domains of nobles would at least cut the price in half. Paving the roads could have cut down the transport costs further, or at least helped to shatter the monopolies of local crews. Further, had the carpenters been furnished with enchanted tools - not to mention machinery - the time to assemble could be cut down precipitously.

    Renner understood these realities, and although she had long since grown accustomed to the shortsightedness of her fellow noble blood, it was made all the more unbearable by her contemporary beyond the eastern border. The Baharuth Empire, the main rival of the Kingdom, was headed by superb statesman Emperor El-Nix, the Bloody Emperor. Though he earned his degrading moniker through rapid purges of the less capable nobleman of his country when he seized power, he had proven to be more than an empty-headed pike wielder. In the course of a decade, he had renovated the aging imperial bureaucracy and led a revolution in all walks of Imperial life. Technologic leaps across many separate fields, manufacturing techniques, the magical arts of enchantment; more advanced battlefield tactics, better soldiers and training techniques, strategic meritocracy; mass entertainment, paved roads, and ever more strides into the future.

    To see him so drive that country forward stings. I wonder how much longer he¡¯ll content himself with token excursions into the borderlands.

    She knew that he would lead that nation into a golden age, precisely because much of this was what she had proposed. Unlike El-Nix, who held near unilateral command over the engines of his state, she was shot down with complete regularity. At every turn, her suggestions for cobbled highways, stronger relations with the monster hunting ¡°adventurers¡±, and a true embrace of magic development had been met with nothing but laughter from her contemporaries. This, for the grim reality that she was not an Emperor who had fiercely consolidated his reign, but a spare Princess.

    The lot of them hold perhaps a half-wit between them. Every time my words make it to El Nix¡¯s ears he listens. Still, he never seems to do much besides copy, or find some new house to relieve of their property. Nothing he¡¯s come up with on his own has any special brilliance. Still, to think he¡¯s greater than average is disconcerting.

    To call Renner intelligent would be foolish; she possessed terrifying abilities of cognition. Genius was a serviceable description, but even that did not fully encompass her nature. Renner was peerless. Despite that, she did have a few friends - or at least, relationships that approached friendship.

    Lakyus and her fellows will be coming in a few days. It will be nice to see her. Prod her for heroic tales and other such things.

    The world was not a domain of just mankind, but a deluge of intelligent species; humanoids, demihumanoids, heteromorphs, demons, angels, undead, spirits, dragon-kin, aberrations, and beings weirder and more dangerous than those. Thus, there were those who rose above the average human - and rarely, elf or dwarf - and fought those monsters, in service to the people and their own wallets. Some sought the limits of their species, be they physical strength, dexterity and speed, focus and battle perception, the arcane arts and the depths of magic, or martial technique. Some were stronger than others, and the Blue Roses, an all female group, were one of two highest ranked teams of the Kingdom''s. Renner found them excellent company, and their curtness befitting of those who had fought in battle was always refreshing. Her mind broke adrift again, but it did not settle on a new topic prior to a knock on the door.

    ¡°Enter.¡±

    After the assent of the Princess, a maid stepped in.

    ¡°Your Highness, His Majesty bid me to inform you that he would like your attendance in the throne room in two hours, His Highness the Crown Prince has returned from E-Rantel¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Laina, I will be in my boudoir. Oh, and do summon Climb for me. I want his help in selecting an outfit for today.¡±

    Renner watched a small twitch on Laina¡¯s face, before the maid smiled and bowed, exiting the room.

    Even though she¡¯s new, it seems she also harbors a hatred for him. Unsurprising. I¡¯ll need to manage her eventually. That makes four of the recently hired maid staff here that have slipped so blatantly like that in front of me: Juvlia, Illurin, El¡¯ya, and now her too. Laxity was expected, but they appear to be building resentments quicker than anticipated. It¡¯s been two weeks for both of them, which means the existing members have already brought them into the fold. That¡¯s the shorter end of the predicted time frame. I think she¡¯s working for Marquis Raevan, though I don¡¯t believe that to be of any special significance for her behavior. Its base dislike.

    Although the Blue Roses knew her intelligence, the depth of her being was hidden.

    A new plan of action, then. I¡¯ll have Laina reassigned closer to me. I¡¯ll talk about Climb, his recent jousting laurel. If her aversion to him runs that deep, it shouldn¡¯t take long to drive her practically mad. From there, any reassignment is possible. Things would be so much simpler if only they tolerated my Climb.

    Renner was far more than simply a genius.

    Failing that, if only I could have the whole lot slung over the gallows.

    She was rotten to the core.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (2)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Middle Wind Month, Day 28]

    The news that her brother arrived arrested Renner¡¯s soaring thoughts; she knew she would have to yield the rest of her afternoon in the sitting room to greet him. Standing up, she walked into the attached bedroom, and began to contemplate the rest of her day. Her short heels made muffled steps along the carpet then clicked against the tile floor, both equally potent displays of wealth. Renner entered her bedroom, which itself was an equal display of the decadence afforded to nobles. Even as a third princess, a spare among spares, Renner received quarters exceeding what most humans in this world would ever hope to see.

    Sitting in front of her vanity, Renner grabbed a small pocket mirror. Flipping open its gilded casement with her dexter hand, she spied at her reflection. Although it was still daytime, the portion of her room where she sat was distant enough from the window to be inconveniently dim. Yet, when she opened the mirror, it cast her relief in such light as to be clear and visible. This was because it was imbued with magic

    This was a gift from Laykus back when she still saw me as a princess. She likely feels embarrassed, in retrospect.

    Observing her face, Renner reached with her left hand for a brush. With a few deft motions, she reapplied her blush. No matter what her peers thought of her intelligence, she was undeniably beautiful. The iridescence of her blue eyes burned with warmth, and her golden hair draped like silk over her body. She was slender with a moderate bust - though she was not more thinly figured than most ladies of the court - and stood a pace and a half in height. Doubling down on her physicality, Renner curated a set of outfits to match her features, and today she wore a pale blue dress with all the accompanying golden jewelry one would expect from her title. She paused, observing the subtlety of her cheeks.

    Barbro perceives me as more naive and innocent than anyone else, but if I apply additional blush like I do for our private meetings, some of the maids would notice. When they pass that off to their houses, they¡¯ll make the conclusion that I¡¯m pining for the attention of a male in the room. I don¡¯t want to be hearing rumors from the noble faction that I¡¯m starting to become lovesick for their sons in attendance. Father¡¯s patience would run thin, and the tentative allusions to marital schemes would be tiring, not to discount actual proposals. I need to find the right balance here.

    Renner gently resumed, moving slower and more deliberately than before. After another visual inspection, she clasped the mirror shut, set it back onto the table, and stood. Acutely aware she was alone, she cracked her back and stepped over to her closet. Entering, she stepped to the bar supporting her dresses, and selected a few. Lifting their hangers off and setting them near her dressing stand, she paused her movement and looked at the door back out to her sitting space. Three minutes and fourteen seconds passed before she heard the outer door open.

    He always comes without pause.

    A second later, she heard that wonderful voice from beyond the door.

    ¡°Your Highness, you requested my presence?¡±

    His timbre is intoxicating, the little wavers and uncertainties he lets creep in.

    ¡°Yes, come in!¡±

    The handle turned, and Renner resumed her movement, patting out the small crevices in the dress infront of her she had left unattended the last three minutes. To anyone who entered, it would give off the impression that she was ever so slightly overwhelmed by the task she was so diligently performing. It would inspire a sense of protectiveness, the sight of a beautiful princess tending to her appearance in preparation for an important event, but still being in need of assistance. A perfect persona of innocence, and the perfect way to draw the desired emotions out of Climb. The door swung open, revealing the object of her affection

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for my tardiness. I was at the exercise grounds speaking with Ekhan and I didn¡¯t want to track dust in here.¡±

    He gave a bow both as a greeting and apology. As he was wont, he had been training. Be it simple athletics, guardwork, or swordplay, he was unrelenting. His loyalty was profound, bearing a boyish desire to protect the woman that had plucked him off the streets and gave him bed and board. As he grew, so did it grow into an ambition to not only be her bodyguard, but her sentinel. It was his purpose, and besides the rest days a fretting Renner mandated for him, he spent his time training his swordsmanship. To that end, he was now donned in a breastplate and some light leathers, dinged and battered from repeated strikes from wooden swords. Similarly, he was bruised and scuffed as well.

    ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s fine, I know my request was sudden. I just wanted your assistance in picking an outfit for seeing my brother.¡±

    Climb quickly swallowed, and rose from his bow with an undeniably nervous smile.

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Are those dresses what you¡¯ve narrowed your selection to?¡±

    Had she been given the choice, she would have dragged Climb to her bedchamber right then. Of course, she couldn¡¯t. Maid Laina was standing right behind him, with a less-than-hidden disdain on face. Renner being alone with any male would cause a political cataclysm, much less one of common blood. That slight aside, the rugged scrapes on his cheeks put Renner in mind of her desires.

    ¡°Mhmm! Now, I¡¯ve narrowed my choice to either of these. I love the trim on both, though I¡¯m unsure which one works better. Look at the flower embroidery on the sleeve here. Isn¡¯t it wonderful?¡±

    ¡°It''s quite beautiful, Your Highness.¡±

    These were her happiest moments, and they were all too short.

    ¡ª

    Renner was standing at the side of her father when the double doors opened. A court crier stood and spoke in a booming voice.

    ¡°Presenting to His Majesty, King Ramposa the Third, Defender of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, his Highness, The Crown Prince Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself.¡±

    At that moment, Barbro entered the room, flanked by his retenue. He strode forward in full plate, his booming footsteps belying his stature and constitution. With his helmet in the nook of his left arm, he cast his gaze upon the throne, sweeping then to Renner¡¯s brother Zanac, and then her.

    Renner had four siblings, and she was the youngest of all of them. The royalty of the Re-Estize Kingdom observed strict orders of birthright and inheritance, and Barbro, being the firstborn son, was entitled to the kingdom itself. Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, the second son, was entitled to nothing but token allowances, and would need to carefully campaign and maneuver himself into a position to maintain even a fraction of his father¡¯s status. For the first, second, and third daughters Vena, Lulara, and Renner, there was even less - only a pittance¡¯s worth of the crown lands. For a woman of nobility, marriage would be the only option for prosperity, often with consideration only for the political undertones of the matrimonial bond. Vena and Lulara had already met their fate in this regard, and had married off in strategic fashion as offers of peace to other nobles; unfortunately for the stability of the kingdom, this was to little effect.

    As Barbro approached the throne, he passed ranks of nobility and those sent in lieu of those lords not in attendance. Although they stood in neat lines, respectfully bowing to the man set to inherit the kingdom, this order was a farce. In reality, many were at each other¡¯s throats, desperately clamoring for any scrap of advantage. Nobles would lay backstabs upon backstabs, political ripostes slithering in lower channels before realizing victories or defeats. Factionalism was rampant, and the kingdom found itself divided between those loyal to House Vaiself and those who stood alongside the growing power of the nobility itself. By those in high places, this was shortened to the Royal and Noble factions. Of those present, six stood above the rest in prestige and influence: of the Royals, Margrave Urovana, Marquis Blumrush, and Marquis Pespae; of the Nobles, Marquis Boullope and Count Lytton; of the independents, Marquis Raeven. In this moment, however, they stood side-by-side in silence.

    Barbro stopped, now but two paces from his father. He kneeled, his armor clanking as he lowered himself into a bow. Once down, he raised his head, showing his proud and confident visage to his father.

    Arrogant. Had it not been for the order of his coming into the world, he would be nothing.

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    ¡°Father, I have returned from our border with the decrepit Empire. E-Rantel remains impervious to any attack the imperials can muster. I have driven away their scouts and probes in the villages surrounding the city. I have purged many of the undead of the Katze plane, and have taken the head of a lich we believe to be in the service of Zurrernorn. The glory of this land remains undamped. I will stand before any threat to this Kingdom, be they soldiers or spies.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t written for him, he''s trying his own hand at these sorts of addresses. Oh Barbro, why are you ignoring the advice Zanac gave you? Even the Royals will be snickering at that tonight.

    In truth, Barbro was beyond dull. This was not simply relative to Renner, but to the entire nobility. Worse, he was not a quiet dullard, but was loud, proud, and always blundering in halls of power. He was a liability for his father and his faction, but much to the shagrin of the nobles, they could never reliably use him in their schemes precisely because of his impulsivity. Had Zanac been the first son, things would be much different.

    ¡°I am proud to hear your declarations. Any day with you is a warm day. You are the Sword of the Kingdom.¡±

    Everything Ramposa III had just said was a lie, but none were borne from malice. He possessed a genuine love for his children, which is more than most highbloods could say honestly. He was certainly embarrassed by his son¡¯s speech, and his own fear about his son and the nation¡¯s future certainly sapped any happiness he could have snatched from seeing Barbro. In addition, in no respect was Barbro ¡°The Sword of the Kingdom¡±; that was the domain of the Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff, who stood flanking the throne from stage-right. He was a peerless fighter, and without a doubt represented the pinnacle of human strength in this world of monsters.

    Although Renner could find fault in this love, she dared not question it. It was because of this same blind adoration that she had avoided marriage. To be the fifteen year old daughter of the king and unmarried was in of itself a controversy; but Ramposa¡¯s habit of lending a welcome ear to his children had given Renner her out. Thus, the Golden Princess remained unmarried, and no suitors had yet seriously attempted to seek her hand. Such double-edged realities were inseparable from the politics of Re-Estize.

    You¡¯re such a fool! Why do you campaign in the first place? Is there cause? Surely you recognize your place is secure? You needn¡¯t fight for the approval of the people; doing so for boldface glory is a new low in actionable objectives. Our father is tangled in the webs of the nobles and even he maintains his popularity - even as our strength is sapped by the wars with Baharuth. Brother-dearest, can¡¯t you see how much damage you¡¯re doing?

    Renner did not shift her gaze away from her father as he spoke, but focused her peripheral vision on Marquis Raeven. Among all of the nobles here, Elias Brandt Dale Raeven was the most derided. Perceived as an opportunist, he elegantly weaved his way between the Royals and Nobles, picking up concessions and small victories which had soon built up to a considerable store of political and financial capital. Considered a turncoat, accepting a deal from him was tantamount to making one with a devil. Everyone, sans one, in attendance saw him as a snake of a man

    You need to hurry and establish a working relationship with Barbro. The Royals won¡¯t hold together unless you can keep him in their courtship once father dies.

    In truth, Raeven was desperately trying to hold the royalty together. He was deeply loyal to the king. His actions, even those taken against the royalty, would always bear unifying force, if in the form of capital, political influence, or a common enemy. The most recent of these schemes had been a play with Count Lytton, entering into a price cartel on certain grains and cereals. The subsequent crisis mandated the intervention of House Vaiself, spurring the release of a grain store at below market rates. Though his own coffers took a hit, Raeven had drained Lytton of significant capital, having secured buyers to offload stock long in advance of speaking to Lytton. Though his brutalistic behavior was clearly on display, his public bearance and poorly obscured professions of independence had successfully shaped the perception of all those that surrounded him that he was a slave to his own advancement, and nothing else. Renner had seen through this by the time she was eleven.

    ¡°Thank you my father. I bring gifts from the demesnes of the borderlands¡±

    Unexpected. He seems content to not only go off script, but write whole new ones.

    Barbro stood, and one of his retenue, Adjutant Knight Teloran, walked forward. In his hands he was carrying a sword in its sheath; its leather was bleached white, elegantly embroidered with a woven gold fiber in the pattern of a lion. The knight came to just below the side of the throne, and handed the sword to nonplussed Gazef. After giving it a ceremonial inspection, Gazef went to his knee, and presented it to the king.

    Ramposa was old. This year was the thirty-ninth of his reign. He had not ruled from vanity, nor from a base refusal to give up control, but simple fear for his people. To cede the throne would have been to give it to Barbro or - worse in his eyes - to Zanac. His third daughter would likely be forced into marriage, and the security of the eastern border would fall into question. He was not only tired, he was exhausted. None-the-less, he stood, and with Gazef gripping the sheath, he set his hand on the haft of the sword and drew it.

    ¡°This was the sword of an Imperial scout leader that we assisted Count Bajan in driving from his lands.¡±

    Hushed whispers ebbed fourth from the nobility, a general atmosphere of confusion permeating the room.

    I did not expect him to forge connections that quickly with Bajan. This is an unanticipated power play on his part. He intends to show himself as a martial king, one fit to defend the land from the Empire. Further, he¡¯s trying to show father as weak. Brother, it seems I underestimated your desire for the throne. You don¡¯t care if it rips the Royals apart; if you can carry the voices of the Nobles behind you, you can take the throne. Interesting.

    Renner, while analyzing the situation, was giving an innocent and awed look befitting of a young princess. Still, something began to nag at her.

    Why is Gazef doing that?

    Quite invisibly to the rest of the chamber - for all were either focused on the King or the Crown Prince - Gazef was subtly running his fingers along the engravings on the sheath. Although he was otherwise still, Renner realized the look on his face was not the look of ceremonial reference he typically bore, but was one of stoic concentration.

    Strange, I haven¡¯t the faintest idea why he¡¯s doing that. Still, Barbro¡¯s alliance with the nobles of the borderlands will only help his case as a strong ruler. I wonder if they¡¯d choose to back him on the basis of his foolishness. Perhaps, though, doesn''t that raise more questions? After all, why not simply pretend to be an idiot and-

    Renner¡¯s face suddenly froze, and despite herself, she visibly swallowed. Ramposa caught the light of the waning day on the edge of the weapon, and gave a nod.

    ¡°Thank you, my son. This is a gift that will ring through the Kingdom¡¯s halls. A show of our glory, a show of our indomitability, an arrow knocked and set loose at the Empire to say that we will not buck from their aggression. That we will meet every challenge of theirs, and win¡±

    Ramposa sheathed the sword, and then sat.

    Is he deliberately cultivating a personality of incompetence? If he can give the impression that he will be easily manipulated, then he can very easily earn the support of the Great Houses. They would push far harder for the abdication of my father if they thought that Barbro was imbecilic. Everyone wishes to be the vicar whispering in the King¡¯s ear.

    Renner¡¯s mind was racing. She began stepping through the actions of Barbro in great detail, reframing them as part of plans for a much grander ascension as king than she had anticipated. She realized she was bearing a strange face.

    I hope they haven¡¯t noticed. This would be tough- wait, no. They¡¯ll probably just perceive my frozen expression as me suppressing embarrassment at my brother. Ah, yes. Still that means I¡¯m playing into his plans if he is faking his incompetence.

    Renner¡¯s smile widened.

    I would not have guessed this. I wonder if he has predicted any of my actions so far. To think that he would also put on a persona of stupidity to advance his aims.

    Barbro stood, and he wore a proud smile.

    ¡°I will defend the kingdom with all my strength. When I take your mantle father, the glory of Re-Estize will be safeguarded forever.¡±

    The room froze.

    Ah, nevermind.

    ¡ª

    Renner sat down on her bed. The evening was long, filled with the reception of Barbro and his stories of conquest and valor on the eastern border. Renner had found her leave to retire soon after Zanac had - for it was the place of any resident princess to entertain even after her brothers found their exit. She had done her best, wearing her persona as the third Princess Renner to the best of her ability. Still, she was undeniably tired, and after the climax of the evening''s events, she had returned to her room long past the twain of the night.

    If only they could see the real issues of the kingdom. How much more satisfying would the polity find their lives? How much more coin would those with titles find to sate their greed? How much more of a secure future could I build for me and Climb?

    Renner schemed for one thing, a safe place for her and her darling. A life they could live out together. All the bargaining power at her disposal would be spent towards that end. The simple goal was to find a suitable noble, and after enthralling him in her web, bind him in a false marriage with Climb as her concubine. Although such extramarital indulgences were certainly the field of the kings and lords of the world, it was not entirely unheard of for a woman to earn that same right. Thus, her and her Climb could live out their lives together; happy, in love.

    I love my puppy.

    Extinguishing the lamp by her bedside, Renner slipped under the covers and accounted for the day¡¯s work. Still, little of note had actually happened, and she had no opportunity to truly advance her aims. Upon review of the ceremony, her mind snagged.

    What was that look on Gazef¡¯s face for? Maybe he sensed the weight of the blade or felt magic in its construction. Still, why run his hands along the sheath? What was he searching for? Maybe El-Nix - more likely his monster - has found some new technological advancement in enchantment that allows blades to do¡­ something. I have no sense for such matters. Self sharpening or something to that effect. How befitting of the Empire, they may soon begin to exceed the Theocracy in the depths of their magic.

    Exhausted, Renner closed her eyes, and let herself drift off to sleep.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (3)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Middle Wind Month, Day 29]

    Breakfast the next morning was atypically light, and although Renner had avoided eating as much as the other guests in attendance last night, she appreciated the consideration made for her stomach. Ramposa was there with Gazef in tow, as well as a pair of maids for the purpose of doting on them both. Valencia Palace befitted the size of Re-Estize, a decadent structure sent inside the castle of Ro-Lente, it was the culminating work of a multi-decade construction effort conducted by the earlier members of the Vaiself Bloodline. It thus had its own room dedicated for the purpose of breakfast. Large windows poured the easterly light of the waxing day into the room. Despite the table having ten seats, Renner and her father had no intention of spreading out, and they sat around one of its corners. After swallowing what was in his mouth, the king turned to her, and in a voice long since sapped of its strength with age, spoke.

    ¡°So dear, how are things going with Climb?¡±

    Renner¡¯s father had never been bothered by his daughter¡¯s obsession with Climb. Although the nature of their relationship was different, he held a close friendship with Gazef, who like Climb was also a commoner. In this way, he held a sympathy for Renner, and the shared grievances they received from nobles about their associations with low-blood.

    ¡°Mm! He¡¯s recently been experimenting with a new sword technique, one where he imbues ephemera along its edge. He called it¡­ oh what was the word. ¡®Slash¡¯ I believe. He trains so hard at it. He told me he¡¯s able to do it up to a dozen times a day.¡±

    Ramposa quickly gained a joyous look on his face, and a fire burned in Gazef¡¯s eyes. What Renner had said was remarkable. This was a world of the ephemeral. Magics dominated the thoughts of most who pondered at its nature, but many other ethereal forces lurked in the edges of existence. For a person like Climb, who possessed no arcane aptitudes, he was still not limited from the hidden traits of reality. As a warrior, his physical ability and psychic willpower had become such that he could - to a degree - control the flows of his energies, and cultivate more. There were many expressions of such things, a monk hardening their fists or a fighter bearing great blows unmoving, and they could be manifested in any number of ways. Many of the specifics were lost to those like Climb, with words like ¡°Aura¡± or ¡°Ki¡± melting into an interchangeable stew of termanology and superstition. For someone who had trained as long and as young an age as Climb, he could even cause parts of his ephemera to flow out from his body. Although making a dozen dumb swings with a sword a day was no accomplishment of note, Climb was embuing his energy in the blade itself, magnifying its cutting power and the strength of its steel.

    Considering the mental and physical control required, this concentration was a thing beyond the vast majority of people and beings in this world, be they human or otherwise. Further, once the blade was swung, only a fraction of the energy that had flowed in could be recovered by the warrior; it was exhausting. Although there had been countless warriors who could exceed Climb in this, he was simply a teenager. The willpower he possessed was simply unbelievable for his age.

    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s quite impressive. He¡¯s always seemed fit to be your honor guard, but that ought to quiet those dissenters.¡±

    If only. They find cause to complain about Gazef, and he¡¯s the strongest living warrior to grace the lands of Re-Estize; no, of all the domains of man. He has one foot in the realm of heroes and they still insist on that demanding title of ¡°Warrior-Captain¡±. To think my Climb would be granted any leniency is a farce.

    Renner gave a warm smile, successfully masking the hate simmering deep in her chest. They continued to eat in silence. Ramposa slowly grew a slight smirk on his face, and Renner gave him a silent que to speak. Ramposa turned to the maids behind him.

    ¡°I¡¯m of a mind to have some of the wines that were left unfinished last night. You two please go and get the Chateau Devant, as well as a glass for my daughter.¡±

    King Ramposa was always polite to his servants, especially when he wanted them to leave. These two maids were more well composed around him then they would be around Renner, and they gave unflinching visages of respect as they bowed and found their exit. When the door closed, Ramposa turned back to his daughter, and after suppressing a small chuckle, spoke again.

    ¡°You know, if it wouldn¡¯t cause an uproar, I would give that sword Barbro gifted me to Climb¡±

    Renner gave a giggle, presenting the face of a daughter amused by her father¡¯s antics. Renner may not have truly loved her father - a not uncommon occurrence among the progeny of royalty - but she did hold an appreciation for him. At heart, he was a kind man. He had loved his wife, Queen Nunia, then later Queen Etsana, and even after both of their passings, gave true affection to his children. His big heart was his weakness, and even as king, he found time to dismiss his underlings so he could tell a joke in private. Although she found it genuinely humorous, it was darkly so; Climb would never receive a gift like that from anyone of status. Still, she enjoyed Ramposa''s wit.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Climb would be happy to hear that!¡±

    Thank you father.

    After finishing their little joke, that nagging voice crept back into Renner¡¯s mind.

    Gazef has that look on his face. Something is wrong with that sword. Was it not a real blade? Did Barbro simply have it made by a village blacksmith and then claim he got it in battle? No, Gazef would have borne a look of annoyance or perhaps resigned amusement. This is the look he gives in war council meetings when the enemy forces are assessed. Is he concerned with matters of country? Why would Imperial probes into the borderlands shake him so much? It''s routine for them.

    Concern grew in Renner¡¯s heart. She was not a warrior, so she had to rely on people like Gazef to understand such matters. Normally, she could simply keep tabs on him out of the corner of her eye to evaluate the martial soundness of noble¡¯s military schemes; but now, the body language she could so easily divine the content of the Warrior-Captain¡¯s thoughts with was untenably vague. She didn¡¯t have enough information to give deductions, and this bothered her. She would have to gain it, and this would mean putting herself in an uncertain place. Asking of military matters was unbefitting for a princess, but Gazef¡¯s concern looked deep, and he was by her reckoning unwilling to share his thoughts around anyone but his guarded associates. She thought the next words out of her mouth carefully.

    ¡°Do you think he could wield a sword like that?¡±

    Climb is my path forward here. As long as I frame my curiosity as something borne from a girlish obsession with the interests of my darling climb, I can successfully draw out answers from him.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Hm, well. He¡¯s still a bit young, and I¡¯m not sure he bears the strength for a sword like that yet?¡±

    Nothing, I need to push.

    ¡°Huh, but he¡¯s trained with blades like that before? Uh, the term is shortsword right?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, but that blade was somewhat heavier than what he would be used to. Imperial blades have different construction.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, thank you Captain Gazef¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness¡±

    He said the blade was heavier, but that makes no sense. The steel that emerges from Imperial forges is lighter and stronger then what we make. It¡¯s the same length as Climb¡¯s sword, so it shouldn¡¯t be more massive. The blade must not be stock imperial, but why would Gazef lie about it? It clearly had a degree of customization, or perhaps retrieved from a monster or lichkin. He wouldn¡¯t need to hide if it was a magical blade, indeed that would elevate the status of the gift and Gazef isn¡¯t politically determined enough to willingly hide such a thing from the king. He¡¯s hiding something. Or, rather, he¡¯s afraid of the consequences of revealing what he knows about that blade. Why? He would tell father if Barbro had lied about it; indeed, Barbro, although he was appropriating the accomplishment of his men as his own, did seem to be truthful of its origin.

    Renner turned and looked out the window at the steadily ascending sun. A slow chill began to roil at the base of her spine.

    He¡¯s afraid of the consequences of revealing its origin. That wouldn¡¯t make sense if it was imperial, kingdom made, borne by monstrous hand, or created from the necromantic magics of Zurrernorn. It¡¯s from the Theocracy.

    In the portion of the world known to the Kingdom, there were three other countries of men. To the south west existed the Holy Kingdom; a fraction of the size and strength of Re-Estize, and constantly beset by beastman invasion, it was of little concern to the Re-Estize Kingdom as anything but a trading partner. To the east was the Baharuth Empire, a country that found itself at the height of a new golden age in its history, and the main accursed rival of the Kingdom. Since El Nix¡¯s ascendancy to the throne, the Empire had begun to launch annual wars on the hinterlands to the east of E-Rantel, the border fortress-city that protected the Kingdom from the undead of the Katze plane.

    These wars were not fought for territory, nor for the glory of the Baharuth and its remaining nobles, but simply for the purpose of wearing down Re-Estize. The Empire maintained professional soldiers, and had an effective and unified military command that allowed for unsurpassed unit cohesion and effectiveness. In addition, the arcane arts of the Empire blossomed under a head mage of the imperial academy by the name of Flueder Parodyne, ¡°The Monster of the East¡±. In this way, when Baharuth deployed its armies to the field - between training, equipment, and magical support - the fighting strength of each unit was nearly threefold that of the peasant armies of Re-Estize. Thus, for battlefield parity, the Kingdom was forced to expend triple the amount of food, and nearly double in associated logistic costs due to an ineffective and ununited military. Thus, for the past nine years, the Empire slowly whittled at its foe, forcing them to spend money and grain that could not be easily replaced.

    For the highbloods of the Kingdom, the Empire was a true and dangerous enemy, and they let themselves be consumed in fear, anger, and hatred at its expense. However, the remaining human country was no less a threat, and stranger too. The Slane Theocracy sat to the south east of the border between Re-Estize and the Baharuth; the deep histories of the world taught that the Theocracy was the oldest of the human countries, having survived for the last six centuries.

    If the scriptures beheld by the Theocracy were to be believed, then it was founded when the Six Gods descended from heaven itself and gave mankind providence over all the land. The Gods taught that mankind bore an inherent supremacy to all other life, and that he needn¡¯t suffer the orc, the witch, or the demon among him. When the Gods finished their conquests, they founded a nation to rule the lands, they built a church to rule the nation, and they wrote holy scripture to rule the church. Thus, when the Gods left their corporeal forms and returned to their palaces betwixt the stars, they had left a theocracy with total devotion to the tenants of human supremacy.

    This was the nature of the cascade of thoughts that overran Renner in this moment.

    This is problematic. They¡¯ve always seen the Kingdom and Empire as lands of unbelievers, doubly so with the schism of the church of the four; Ah, what¡¯s their fanciful name for it, the ¡°heresy of the four?¡± Some phrasing to that effect. No matter, the animosity is carried the same none-the-less. We¡¯re all heretics in their eyes - though both us and Baharuth are secular - even those lost brethren of their faith. Still, to think they¡¯re actually attempting to court conflict between us is interesting. How isolated that nation is.

    Renner made a humorous connection in that moment, and inwardly chuckled.

    Actually, this interference may have been caused by me. When I had lead the push to ban slavery, there were some nobles who held out that Elves should remain chained. Because of my insistence on freeing all enslaved peoples, not just humans, I probably caught their attention as an especially problematic heretic. Now that they can no longer sell the fruits of their southern conquests to the people of the kingdom, I have become a threat to the Theocracy¡¯s business. Even so, they don¡¯t seem to be doing much but stirring trouble, and it isn¡¯t like us and the Empire aren¡¯t going to fight otherwise.

    Having put that uncertainty to rest, Renner let herself relax.

    ¡ª

    Renner found herself back in her sitting room, with the sunlight of waning noon beaming through the window. Dust again found itself caught in the brilliance, effulgent and glittering. This was her routine, an experience Renner would live out again and again. She found her hands back on her teapot, but this time she was pouring into two cups. Across from her was the love of her life, her puppy, her Climb.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Of course Climb!¡±

    His cheeks reddened. As he took a sip of tea, they reddened deeper.

    ¡°Is it better than last time? I had this tea imported from the Holy Kingdom after their last delegation arrived here. It should be closer to your taste. Do you like it?¡±

    Climb¡¯s cheeks dove straight into crimson.

    ¡°I-its wonderful.¡±

    No dearest, you are wonderful.

    Renner inhaled sharply and her face lit up in joy.

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s great!¡±

    Renner leaned forward and quickly grabbed Climb¡¯s free hand. His face was nearly maroon.

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°ahh¡­ um, uh, nothing.¡±

    His hands felt wonderful. They had long since been roughened by years of hard training, calloused and tough. They were in sharp contrast to the softness of hers, and in that moment Renner craved nothing but the worn touch of her lover. They shared that moment for a few minutes. Climb¡¯s face slowly cleared of his embarrassment, and he slowly smiled. As distant as her internal world was from the average person, she still knew teenage love.

    ¡°Say, Climb?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking about the armor you use when you guard me. That steel plate you wear.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is what I was provided from the palace armory.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking about that. There are things stronger than steel right?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes. Uh, mithril, orihachulm-¡±

    ¡°Adamantite.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m worried, what if you need to protect me from an assassin and they are bearing a blade harder than your armor? Will it break through?¡±

    ¡°It- it might.¡±

    ¡°Well, I was talking with Lakyus and-¡±

    At that moment, the door to the room was slung open and Renner was interrupted by the entrance of her eldest brother.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (4)

    I hate him. I¡¯m going to gut him like a river-eel.

    ¡°Brother!¡±

    ¡°Sister. Ah, you¡¯re still spending time with that urchin?¡±

    Climb blanched. Renner twitched. Barbro ignored them both and walked into the room, knight Teloran and another man in tow. Teloran was a young man in his late twenties with cropped blond hair, but he had honored himself in combat many times, and had already earned himself a future through conquest greater then what the progeny of most lower houses could aspire too. He was dressed in a stripped down version of his dress uniform, but still bore a shortsword on his hip. The other man was less familiar. He was dressed well enough to mark him as one belonging in high places, but did not bear finery that would signify his nobility.

    That¡¯s Margrave Harlink¡¯s representative to the court. It seems like my brother is focusing on courting the easterly nobles.

    Margrave Harlink was one of the nobles on the border with the Empire, with the villages on the edges of his domain brushing against The Great Forest of Tob. Although he nominally would have been a count, the strength of forces he committed annually had earned him accolades from the King himself, and he was granted the title of Margrave, typically reserved for those with larger demenses.

    Margrave Harlink is one of Bajan¡¯s rivals, he¡¯s trying to muscle the count out of those small settlements on the edge of Tob. Ulrena, Telkirk, Carne, and Rellenue villages I think. The only way he could earn the support of Harlink would be to offer him something significant enough to ignore his meddling. That would mean¡­

    Renner sighed internally, she knew what this meeting would entail. Barbro sat down immediately, but Harlink¡¯s representative set his hand on the chair he intended to take. Climb stood up, vacating the seat instinctually. It was not his place to sit at the same table as the crown prince, and Knight Teloran took the seat he had just vacated. With all four seats around the coffee table taken, the space had suddenly shrunk to an unbearably small size. Renner was boxxed in. As Barbro opened his mouth to speak, the Harlink¡¯s man cut him off.

    ¡°I¡¯m Salco Jonque, I serve as the voice of Margrave Harlink here in the Capital. It''s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Pleased to make yours as well! Please, sit.¡±

    Salco bowed and then sat. By this time Climb had already shuffled around behind Renner, a clearly nervous look on his face. He swept his gaze over all three men who had just entered, and accidentally caught Barbro¡¯s. He looked away, but not swiftly enough.

    ¡°Charledon, you¡¯re not going to dismiss that pet of yours? I brought such a nice guest for you!¡±

    Barbro was clearly trying to provoke Renner with the use of her first name, but his anger was not preformative. He genuinely despised Climb; in his mind, what lowblood had a place here anyway? Climb was just some toy of Renner¡¯s, a thing she pulled out of the gutter, dressed up in pretty clothing, and treated like a doll. Barbro found it unnerving, and he masked this fear of Climb (or rather, what he meant) with hate.

    ¡°He¡¯s my bodyguard. The king wants me to be safe wherever I go.¡±

    ¡°Ha! As if he could protect you from one of the levy, much less an Imperial knight! He¡¯s a boy!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been training all his life, brother.¡±

    ¡°So? Look at him. He barely has the strength to hold a blade. Just a lowblood who you had no business snatching up from the streets.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a warrior who would - Gods forbid - defend me with his life!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll defend you, die, and get you killed! Look him over again, do you think he could fend off an assassin? Does he have the strength of mind to hold in the face of death? That boy has yet to know true fear. If he had to stand between you and a threat to your life, he would piss himself! He has no place being your bodyguard.¡±

    Salco kicked in, clearly flustered by the fighting in his presence,

    ¡°Your Highness, if I may interject, I have a proposal to make to her Highness.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And I¡¯m excited to hear it, Mister Jonque.¡±

    ¡°And besides, we both know the only reason our father lets you keep Climb as your bodyguard is because you talked him into it.¡±

    ¡°That does not diminish his value as one, he trains daily to protect me. He is dedicated, loyal, and-¡±

    ¡°So what?! We all know it''s because you''re his favorite. Letting you go unmarried for so long, keeping a damned low-blood as some sick project of yours. He¡¯s been nicer to you than he¡¯s been to any of us!¡±

    You¡¯re receiving a kingdom because of him! You would have this nation dashed to pieces against the Empire if you had your way. And I have to sit here and listen to this dribble spew from your mouth simply because you were born first! I wish I could gut-

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°By the time you finally stop ogling him you¡¯re going to be dried up! The third princess will be nothing but a Gods-damned crone!¡±

    ¡°Please, Your Highness!¡±

    Salco snapped, frustrated by the sudden turmoil; in half a second, he realized the depth of his indiscretion.

    ¡°What! Fine. Present your offer of marriage to that bat.¡±

    At the prince spoiling the purpose of his visit, Salco deflated, and Renner had her fears of marriage proposals realized.

    Unbelievable, Barbro is using my hand in marriage as a bargaining chip with Harlink.

    ¡°I apologize, Your Highnesses; to you, Crown Prince, and to you too, Golden Princess.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mister Jonque. Say, would you like some tea?¡±

    Barbro scoffed, but Jonque seemed genuinely surprised at her magnanimity and calm dedication to decorum despite the conflict that just rang through the room. Uplifted, he nodded in the affirmative, and with a smile on his face dug through his bag. Renner poured out cups for each of those in attendance, even to Climb, earning another scoff from her brother. Removing a scroll, he forcibly composed himself in the face of Barbro¡¯s open disgust for his little sister, and unfurled it.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°To the Golden Princess, Third Daughter of King Ramposa the Third, Her Highness Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself; I, Margrave Ield Joshel Nuen Harlink have a request. It is the most important request of my life, and one I hope with all my heart you will grant. There are no words that would capture so much as a twip of your beauty, but forgive me for trying. You are sunlight, the highest cloud, the grand joys in life. You are the heavens above, the anticipation of a new day, the secret love locked in the heart of every man. You are mirth, the petrichor of those precious moments after dawn, the flow of water through pristine ranges. To gaze upon you is to give a starved man the feasts of the palace. True happiness fills the hearts of all who are graced with the sight of you. To be in your presence is to be exalted. Verily, you are the Fifth Treasure of Re-Estize. What I ask is for the greatest boon you can bestow. Princess, I wish to meet you upon the altar and to take your hand in marriage.¡±

    He obviously fancies himself a zealous poet. How cringeworthy! ¡°The petrichor¡±? Is he seriously comparing me to the smell of soil after the rain? He¡¯s clearly never stepped outside his Chateau on a rainy day. The droplets rehydrate all the vile miasmas that clog the streets of this Kingdom. Not only is he self-inflating. He¡¯s out of touch.

    ¡°Eh? How beautiful!¡±

    ¡°I thought so too, Your Highness. He¡¯s truly in love with you! I hope you can find it to accept his offer.¡±

    She heard a tepid exhalation of breath behind her. Climb was suffering. She could guess the maelstrom of thoughts swirling inside of his head, all of them negative. For all his loyalty, Climb knew he would never be able to offer marriage to Renner. His chest felt like it was being eaten away by an alchemical solvent.

    I¡¯m sorry Climb, but please suffer through this a little longer.

    After a short silence, Renner continued speaking

    ¡°Still, I know nothing about the borderlands, and-¡±

    ¡°Are you seriously rejecting his offer?!¡±

    Barbro exploded, and he struck the table, catching the saucer Salco¡¯s cup was set in with his finger. The cup flew through the room, striking the ground and shattering. Maid Lucilia near the door screamed at this, causing Climb to step forward, instinctually trying to interpose himself between his savior and the violently angry Barbro. Teloran shot up in response and set his offhand on the haft of his blade, glaring at Climb. Barbro, catching this interaction, used it as the basis for his next tirade

    ¡°Control your damned dog Renner! What right does he have to stand here, much less try and step between us?! Do you even know what you¡¯re doing?! You have no right to refuse this! Every day you go unmarried you drag our father¡¯s name through the mud. Would you do something useful once in your life? What sort of princess refuses to get married? You¡¯re a bat, a crone, a witch!¡±

    ¡°Brother, why are you so angry?¡±

    ¡°Who do you think you are? You¡¯re the third princess! You have no value besides your hand, your blood, and your body. Your only purpose in life is to be married off to someone! To provide someone with the keys to power! To link families together. That¡¯s all you are Renner! No matter how much you meddle in politics, fancy yourself a benevolent princess of the people who advocates for ¡®paving the highways¡¯ or ¡®freeing the slaves¡¯, you¡¯ll never justify sitting in this room of yours day after day doing nothing but eying your disgusting fancy.¡±

    ¡°Slavery is an abomination, how could I not fight to end it?! Besides, paving the roads is without a doubt-¡±

    ¡°Commoners can walk in the mud! It¡¯s where they belong. You lose sight of that ¡®princess¡¯.¡±

    Renner stood up, letting some of her anger rise to the surface.

    ¡°I will not let the people of the Kingdom suffer!¡±

    Suffer needlessly. Slavery is innefficient, a regressive way of providing the Kingdom a workforce, and will stifle Re-Estize in its development. The same goes for dirt highways. You say that the commoners can walk in the mud, but can they drag their carts through it? Can they get goods into cities, to furnish your palaces or your halls of power?

    ¡°That is the duty of people like me, like your father and that fatass of a brother of mine! We are supposed to protect the people of the Kingdom from invasion and the destruction of their villages. Not coddle them with wasted amenities! You have no place in this business Renner. Sit down, shut up, and marry Harlink.¡±

    Renner was silent. She looked at Barbro¡¯s face, reading its curves and edges. Salco raised his face, having long since buried it in his hands out of frustration and powerlessness. Climb and Teloran were the only two that had maintained steady breathing - such was the focus of trained fighters - both managing to keep composure in spite of the shameful insults thrown. Despite that, Climb was near tears; the brutal assault delivered by Barbro made all the worse by its lack of acknowledgement of Climb¡¯s presence. Renner swallowed the spit inside her throat and turned to Salco. After spending a moment, she regained the same smile she had when she initially invited Salco to share Harlink¡¯s proposal. Indeed, were it not for her reddened eyes, her regal visage would be completely intact.

    ¡°Forgive me, Mister Jonque. I didn''t mean to couch my words in soft denial. I found his profession of love beautiful, and I thank Lord Harlink for his offer, but I must decline.¡±

    Salco¡¯s impression of the princess rose to new heights at that moment.

    ¡°No, no it is me who should be asking for forgiveness.¡±

    He stood, and gave a deep bow.

    ¡°Thank you for your hearing of it, and for your kind response. I apologize for my departure so soon after meeting you, but I will be taking my leave now.¡±

    Suddenly he twitched around to look at the cup, and as he was about to speak. Renner cut him off

    ¡°As you say Mister Jonque. Oh, and don¡¯t worry about the cup, I can get it fixed.¡±

    With a nervous affirmative, he bowed once more, and then quickly found his exit. In his haste to leave, he had completely forgotten about the Crown Prince, and Barbro¡¯s face twitched. Sensing the tension was relieving, Teloran released his hand from the handle of his sword, and let the ephemeral fueled battle-readiness of his body fade. Climb did likewise, and he was suddenly struck by an overwhelming nausea.

    ¡°Now, brother, I would like to finish my afternoon in peace.¡±

    Barbro searched for a retort, for some ground to skewer his sister on, but found none. His strength had left him, and all he felt was a hollow pride and frustration at the alliance that had slipped through his grasp.

    This is why you cannot lead. You are completely incapable of laying a scheme. You did everything wrong here. You made a promise you had no ability to keep; worse, it''s a promise you don¡¯t have the power to break without consequence. I could not be trusted to act reliably, you have no leverage over me besides your anger, which I have always weathered without fail. Now you¡¯ll have to explain to the Margrave why he should support you in spite of your failure, in spite of your assistance to his enemy. Salco will report this in great detail to Harlink, and you¡¯ll have lost his respect and his assistance at the first notion of your violence. Further, you fundamentally failed to control the flow of information out of this meeting. You didn¡¯t dismiss the maid before speaking. They¡¯ll gossip, and not only will this make its way back to Harlink and Bajan, but by the time the absurdity of this day greets his ears, it will have been old news. The entirety of the nobility of Re-Estize will have heard this in a week, and it may even make it to the underhands of the Empire and Theocracy, and they will celebrate its coming. Barbro, you continually seal your fate as the fool. A one man comedy. You may be granted this kingdom by birthright, but you will never rule it.

    The Crown Prince of Re-Estize and his adjutant knight left in silence, with only Barbro whispering the word ¡®bitch¡¯ under his breath as a goodbye. Once he and his flank were out of sight, Climb felt vomit come up the back of his throat, and he nearly fell over from the effort of swallowing it. Renner immediately grabbed her love as he doubled over, trying her best to keep him level.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong Climb?¡±

    You¡¯re overwhelmed, I couldn¡¯t protect you from his rage. His abuses are too much to handle. I love you Climb, love you without bound. Let me take care of you.

    ¡°N-nothing, Your Highness. I just don¡¯t feel well.¡±

    ¡°Sit, sit!¡±

    Renner guided him into a chair, and turned to the still shaking Lucilia.

    ¡°Please go and get him some seltzer tabs from the court physician¡±

    ¡°No, I-I¡¯m fine, I promise Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes I¡¯m sure, Your Highness. I¡¯m sorry, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t say sorry.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (5)

    The spring rains fell without consideration for the works of man. The road under the hooves of horses and boots of proletarian turned into a deep brown sludge. The mud arrested the motion of all who tried to traverse it, regardless of status. It was in this way that a five year old Renner found herself stomping through the mud, holding the hand of her older sister Lulara. She was holding the hand of the bodyguard of the king, Knight MacNamara. The three of them daisy-chained together found themselves in the middle of an impromptu column of royalty and knights who had been deprived of their carriages, losing them to the quagmires of mud which the sky had so schemed to realize upon the surface of the earth.

    Knight MacNamara offered his horse to the king, who had agreed yet rejected the same offer from Knight Galdra for the sake of his daughters. They would rather play in the mud anyway, a rare joy for a pair of princesses whose cleanliness was the object of several members of the palace staff. Their laughter was a salve for the soul, and Ramposa smiled at the sound of his daughters¡¯ joy.

    They were returning to the palace from a strategy council on the turmoil in Baharuth, and the troubling internal consolidations won by the Bloody Emperor. War was an imminent specter, and he could not empty his mind of the imminent threat against his people. Renner and Lulara had been made to attend, with the ability to silently sit and look pretty being considered a core part of their educations as princesses. Vena was absent, currently in attendance at a banquet that was part of a courtship proceeding. She was to be married by the end of spring, and so had mostly disappeared from being a functional member of the Vaiself family into that roiling morass of noble cross-cousin marriages and political power plays. Ramposa sighed, and silently thanked the Gods above for his daughters.

    Oh? Who¡¯s that?

    Renner had noticed a boy laying in the gutter to her left. Huddled in a blanket, his face was covered, with only his blond hair peeking out into the rain. Renner stopped, and when Lulara tugged on her hand to continue moving, Renner let her fingers delace. Renner walked towards the boy. As the royal guard surrounding her had tuned out the noises of her and her sister, they did not immediately notice her departure from the hastily organized convoy.

    Who is he? He looks so cold.

    He was shivering, badly. His feet, bare and ghostly white, poked through the blanket. As Renner got closer, she realized it was more of a rag, tattered and soaked through that it did nothing but robbed his ability to retain heat. It was the early spring, and what rain which did fall was but a breadth away from the snows of a week prior.

    He¡¯s going to die.

    Renner did not have the luxury of a normal childhood, and through exposure to the business of the kingdom, had learned the material realities of death and intrigue. Looking at the boy, she knew he wouldn¡¯t last the day.

    What¡¯s going to happen if I help him? Will he like me? Will he want to be friends? Will he obey me?

    Knight MacNamara finally looked back to the girl attached to his dexter hand, and upon noticing Renner''s absence, felt as if the ground fell out from under him. An involuntary shout at the discovery led to a commotion, horses reeling and panicked exclamations. Within a few seconds, Renner was spotted, and an ashamed MacNamara ran over to grab her. Renner knew she had to make a decision, so she kneeled down, pulled back the blanket, and peered into his iridescent blue eyes.

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Middle Wind Month, Day 29]

    She was looking into those same eyes, ten years later. They were red.

    I need to build us a future. I need to have you by my side for the rest of my life. I don¡¯t know how. You have no past, no blood; unless the wars with Baharuth escalate there''s no chance of you earning any. I can¡¯t marry you. I¡¯ll have to keep you as a concubine, or as a bodyguard, but how do I get anyone to agree to that? I need bargaining power over them, but that''s difficult to acquire as a woman. I have no ability to bear land or titles, nor to win them, all I have to offer is my blood and that can¡¯t be used to buy permission to have a servant like Climb. I could offer my intellect, work as their strategist, but the nobility see me as nothing but a simple princess who proposes empty-headed policy shifts.

    Renner felt herself sink. She had no clue how to hold onto Climb. It saddened her, the seeds of her fear began to take root in her soul. She was going to lose him. One day Barbro would come back with a new offer, or some other noble would entrap her in some web of schemes. She would lose herself in the flotsam of history, the unremarkable third daughter of a third king who did nothing but get married off, bore her husband children, and slipped into obscurity; only written about in the oblique genealogical records kept in the archives. She would not have her Climb.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Actually, Zanac suspects my true nature.

    Renner bid the maid to retrieve a glass of water, and took her seat again. She began to brood.

    I need leverage over him; I need to offer him something, or perhaps threaten him. His desires are clear, Zanac wants the throne. Perhaps I could guide him there. His ascension is simply a matter of getting Barbro out of the way and waiting. It could be done in a myriad of ways, Barbro has practically done all the work already. If Zanac were to let me guide him to that position, the question of my future would be assured. The problem lies in showing him I can be trusted. How do I do that?

    She looked at Climb again, and at the sword borne at his side.

    It would need to be some bombastic action, putting a threat to the kingdom to rest. Thwarting whatever machinations the Slane Theocracy intends in Tob is one possibility, but there are too many uncertainties. I could run counter to the Black Scripture; and that would be an untenable possibility. Besides, I don¡¯t think anyone knows of their intrusion besides me and Gazef, so fixing it would bring little recognition from Zanac. As a whole, all foriegn entanglements should be struck from the list. Too little ability for me to influence events meaningfully. That leaves domestic threats alone. In any case those are the only ones I can reliably hire the Blue Roses for.

    Her eyes crept up from his sword to his chest, his breathing having slowed back into its normal pace. A double revelation hit her.

    Ahh yes the armor I meant to commission for him, I¡¯ll speak of that with Lakyus next time I see her. As far as threats to the nation, there aren¡¯t many options. The very existence of that necromancer cult Zurrernorn is in doubt, and I have no reliable information as to their activities. If they still exist, they may have already left the confines of Re-Estize. The rebels in Re-Uroval have been crushed into the dirt, and I¡¯m sure Lakyus would argue that it''s a matter of country, not the business for adventurers. Thus the only issue that really makes sense to fight is Eight Fingers, but that has its problems too.

    Eight Fingers was the dominant crime organization of the Re-Estize. Indeed, in some ways it was part of the Kingdom itself; a branch of its government in all but name. Gambling, narcotics, smuggling, prostitution, wetwork, and slavery all found themselves nestled at home under its overbosses and division heads. Through networks of blind-eyes, bribery, and blackmail, its touch could be felt in every aspect of Kingdom life. Many nobles spoke out publicly against it, vowing to their people that they would fight tirelessly to end it, yet at the same time becoming liegemen to the syndicate through the simple receiving of coin.

    Renner hesitated, not because she feared the wrath of such an organization, but because she knew its necessity. She, after all, had already earned its ire when she banned slavery.  Even if she were to lay further plots against it, she would not be immediately identified as the puppet mistress behind their suffering. No matter how powerful they were, to assassinate a princess was beyond question. No, Renner feared a Kingdom without Eight Fingers. It was commonly called a cancer to Re-Estize, but to call it a cancer would imply that the Kingdom could function without it. In truth, it was a vital organ. Society needed some level of dark joy to function; gambling houses, brothels, and Laira-dens rivaled the coliseums of the Empire in their value as entertainment.

    Still, that does not mean that I could not deal them a significant blow. The divisions I ought to target are narcotics and slavery. There has always been a malignancy of Laira-addled people becoming shells of themselves, but the more recent alchemically concentrated forms are something else entirely. Eliminating the production of Black Dust would help the stability of Re-Estize in the long run. It would also be nice to deal slavery a killing blow, but I doubt that possible. Perhaps simply mortally wound it. Any evidence turned up in raids would be doubly-damming, and it would be far better leverage on a noble than their gambling debts.

    Renner stepped back into herself, her senses slowly fading in. In the time she was lost in her reverie, Lucilia had come back with some water for Climb, and he had chugged down the glass in one go. Looking at Climb, she smiled. She began to feel like she was back in control again.

    ¡°Climb, I was going to say something earlier before my brother cut me off. I''m going to have a suit of mithril armor commissioned for you.¡±

    ¡°Y-you are?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m going to speak with Laykus about it, she and the Blue Roses will help. If you could please provide your measurements, I would appreciate it greatly. Climb, can I be honest?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid for the future of the Kingdom. With how old my father is getting, he may not be able to stay king for much longer. I also worry that my brother won''t be able to keep the Royals intact. He struggles to stay popular, and he makes an easy target for the Noble Faction. I don¡¯t know how he¡¯ll fare against the Empire, or against that eightfold syndicate. I¡¯m scared Climb. In that turmoil, I could come under threat, and I¡¯ll need you to protect me.¡±

    Lucilia, how raptly you must be listening. Please spread my words far and wide.

    While Renner was still building out the full depths of her plot, she could still begin to lay groundwork. Although the Crown Prince had heartily embarrassed himself, for the Third Princess to then express doubt to her close associate in private would elevate a simple bit of clownery into an appetizing narrative for any noble.

    Barbro, I really must thank you. You¡¯ve created such an opportunity for me, cleared my thoughts.

    A cruel smile formed on her inner face. Renner looked back to her Climb.

    If only I could keep him away from the arenas of politics. Locked away maybe.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (6)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 1]

    It was two days before the Blue Roses rode into the capital. The women passed through the city gates, and as word of their arrival spread throughout the populace, by the time they had arrived at the palace, a small crowd had formed to view them. Upon the back of an eight-legged horsekin - a sleipnir - rode a highborn woman in filigreed armor; proud and well-bred, she bore a large sword at her side, and hovering in the air behind her were six floating blades, fanned behind her back to give the appearance of wings. This was Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra, Fiendish Boss, Bladelord and Cleric, and leader of the Blue Roses.

    We didn¡¯t exactly make good time. Unlucky to run into two separate bands of highwaymen.

    Despite Lakyus riding along the back of a Sleipnir, which themselves were taller than other equines, the woman walking beside her rose nearly to her height. Nearly two paces in height, the woman was a terrifying sight to behold. In a deep crimson full plate, she bore a warhammer on her back, which by appearance alone must have weighed a dozen standard weights. Her face was strong, and was in a word, statuesque. Gagaran was the muscle of the Blue Roses.

    The remaining three members of the Blue Roses were not seen by the crowd. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop were two. Both of them were nearly identical in appearance; lithe, but with unusually hardened bodies. Neither rose above a pace and a half in height, and the way they moved made it clear that they possessed the strength to lift several times their own body weight. Despite running across tile, their footfalls produced little noise, avoiding heel strike and any unnecessary calls to their presence. Both bore collections of kite shaped knives, and at their sides were long sickle blades. They were the Twin Killers, Tia and Tina.

    The final member of the Blue Roses had no need to run along rooftops and through back alleys to stay hidden. She simply tailed Lakyus and Gagaran invisibly. Although the sight of it was impossible, she wore a cloak dyed fully red. It left no part of her body visible, and upon her face lay a bone white mask, with only thin slits for her eyes. She wasn¡¯t walking, but smoothly gliding a handbreadth above the ground. Even with the added height of hovering, she stood shorter than even Tia and Tina. She was an enigma, a mysterious arcanist of supreme dedication and power. She was Evileye.

    Thus did all five enter the palace gate, with Tia and Tina dropping from above and Evileye dispelling her cloak. This was done out of courtesy and respect, but in truth, the castle guards couldn¡¯t have prevented their covert entry. Shedding her mount, Lakyus led the five of them to one of the many side entrances to the palace. They may have been honored guests, but to let those who did such gruff work enter through the front entrance would have been an affront. Bearing the fierce heat of the day to greet the adventurers were two, the Warrior Captain and the Bodyguard of the Golden Princess. With a mischievous smirk, Gagaran spoke first.

    ¡°Oy Gazef, you hanging around with that virgin? Don¡¯t let him drag you down that much!¡±

    Oh for the Will of the Four.

    Gagaran was a warrior¡¯s warrior, and she was of a mind to effect conquest in all things, including sexual. This undoubtedly earned inner groans from all else present, and a rebuttal from Evileye.

    ¡°Hey musclemounds, we¡¯re here to see the princess. Can¡¯t you use that brain that rattles around in your skull to conjure some decorum?¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m no good for that stuff anyway, that¡¯s why we have her.¡±

    Gagaran pointed at Lakyus, who sighed. Although she had de facto given up her title for a life of heroics, Lakyus was still a member of the nobility, and it was this that allowed the Blue Roses to earn acceptance not only for merit, but for blood. Gazef spoke, heading off an exchange of banter between the feuding wizard and warrior.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Gagaran, I know you¡¯re not one for ceremony. The king has given me leave of my duties for the afternoon. What say you, we spend some time sparing?¡±

    ¡°Ha! As if I could ever refuse. I still don¡¯t accept your victory.¡±

    ¡°Fiendish Boss, I¡¯m going to go with them too.¡±

    Why do they have to call me that? It makes me sound wicked.

    Tia addressed Lakyus with a moniker her twin concocted when they initially encountered and were recruited by her. Although it irked her, she had soon learned to accept it. Tina nodded, also not wanting to join the pleasantry.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Climb, take us to Her Highness.¡±

    ¡ª

    Renner was enjoying a green tea when the closest thing she had to a friend knocked on the door.

    ¡°Come in!¡±

    Laykus, Evileye, and Climb entered, Laykus having changed from her battle gear into a light green dress that she kept for such occasions.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus! Oh how nice it is to see you!¡±

    Renner stood out of her chair, Laykus walked forth and took the Golden Princess¡¯s dexter hand, bowed, and kissed it.

    ¡°Are Gagaran, Tia, and Tina not attending?¡±

    ¡°The warrior captain offered them a sparring match.¡±

    ¡°Gagaran trying to relive the Grand Tournament?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever forgiven Gazef for his victory over her.¡±

    ¡°I see. Please, sit! Climb you too.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make it an order.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner indicated he was to sit as well. Laykus and Renner sat adjacent, Climb and Evileye opposite.

    ¡°So, Lakyus, what heroics have you been up to lately?¡±

    ¡°Nothing significant. About a month ago, a southern Barony had its crops blighted. Lord Fairland hired a local team of Gold-plates to go into the woods nearby and destroy whatever was killing his crops. When they failed to return, a mithril team was dispatched to find them. To cut a story short, it was a circle of Bafolk Druids trying to push their tribe¡¯s territory north.¡±

    ¡°How scary. Still, it wasn¡¯t that bad?¡±

    Evileye interjected, her cold voice cutting through the air.

    ¡°It was just a matter of killing the Moongazer. They needed his power to conduct the sapping ritual. One we killed him, we just ran them down the rest in the rout.¡±

    ¡°You mean you killed him, Evileye. You shot him with that crystal bolt from over three hundred paces away.¡±

    ¡°You still hunted down the rest.¡±

    Evileye is the most powerful of them, but she has no interest in leading the group. I wonder why. There are too many questions about her. She has a child¡¯s body, yet she clearly possesses such a deep magical prowess. She probably isn¡¯t human, but what could she be? Perhaps a halfling? They possess such small bodies even in maturity, but she sounds young.

    Renner engaged in this sort of contemplation every time she interacted with the resident witch of the Blue Roses, but had never puzzled out a satisfactory conclusion as to her race, age, or origins. No one else in the Blue Roses knew her origin either. Her slot in the group used to be occupied by Rigrit Bers Caurau, one of the Thirteen Heros; who as she told it, won a bet against Evileye, and as payment, told Evileye to take her place in the Blue Roses and allow her to retire. Still, Evileye had repeatedly proved her worth to the group, precisely because of actions like this.

    ¡°All of you always impress me. You so casually say such impossible things.¡±

    ¡°Easier than politics.¡±

    All but Evileye and Climb laughed. For the Blue Roses, politics was indeed a more difficult arena for them than that of battle. They looked up to Renner for that reason, and in some ways, relied upon her. Renner turned to the maid in the room.

    ¡°Elena, please go and get some biscuits for our guests.¡±

    Maid Elena bowed and exited the room, and Lakyus knew it was time to shift away from small talk into the real topic of conversation.

    ¡°So, Renner, why did you summon us?¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, what do you think the greatest threat to the Kingdom is?¡±

    ¡°Baharuth is the most visible threat, but I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s not the answer you want me to give. I¡¯d say Zurrernorn too, but I get the feeling you¡¯d shoot that down as well. Eight Fingers?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I see. They¡¯re the only organization that can continue the slave trade. They produce black dust. They hold power over most gambling clubs in the land.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Lakyus paused, and thought for a moment, trying to trace Renner¡¯s thought process.

    ¡°With the slave trade banned, they¡¯ve gotten more desperate. You think they¡¯re going to start disrupting the Kingdom more than they have.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Laykus leaned in.

    ¡°You want to go after them, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Destroy them?¡±

    ¡°Cripple them.¡±

    ¡°At what levels.¡±

    ¡°Arrest the division heads. Cripple the narcotics and slavery divisions.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    Laykus leaned back. Evileye was silent, absorbing what Renner had said. Climb¡¯s was visibly confused.

    The sudden shift in topic has left him completely in the dust, no? Doubly so because he is the only one in the dark. How cute.

    ¡°Still, they¡¯ve always been a threat to the Kingdom. Why now?¡±

    Renner could not tell Lakyus what her real reason was, that this was part of a scheme to ensure Zanac got the throne and that she would be left immune to the marriage wiles of the nobility. She had already prepared an excuse.

    Barbro I must thank you yet again. That sword you brought was a gift not only to our father, but to me.

    ¡°The Slane Theocracy is active in Tob.¡±

    ¡°What?! Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Suffice it to say, they¡¯re active in the borderlands. Actually, they may be disguised as imperial knights terrorizing villiagers.¡±

    ¡°How do you know this?¡±

    This is twice I¡¯ve lucked out today.

    ¡°The warrior captain should be informing your compatriots of that now.¡±

    Silence filled the room. Climb had gone from being visibly lost to being comically so, and had let his shoulders drop in clear resignation, no longer willing to pretend he was following the conversation. Tina was second most confused, and she was the first to speak up.

    ¡°So, you want to get rid of Eight Fingers as a problem because you think the Theocracy will become the greatest threat to the Kingdom in the future.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The Blue Roses had no love for the Theocracy. Gagaran was the most vocal about her hatred for that country. In not so many words, she thought their tenants of human supremacy were completely detestable. Lakyus herself had run into the Sunlit Scripture attempting to raze demihuman villages on the shared border where the Kingdom, the Theocracy, and the wilds met. Had she been swiffer, she could have taken the head of its leader, but only managed to slash at his face. Evileye was an unknown quantity, but everyone could safely guess that she wasn¡¯t human, and that was cause enough for her to fight the servants of the Six Gods.

    ¡°Actually, Your Highness, you might be wrong.¡±

    Evileye spoke up quietly. Everyone, especially Renner, turned to her with looks of confusion.

    ¡°Insofar as them being in Tob to interfere in the business of the Kingdom. Your Highness, do you know which of the six scriptures they belong to?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t have enough evidence to know yet. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°There are rumors among the guild that a Black Scripture member went rogue. Took the crown of a Miko Princess and fled.¡±

    The room was again silent.

    A defector among the Black Scripture! What a terrifying thought. Still, to steal the crown of a Miko Princess. What a transgression.

    The Slane Theocracy understood little justice outside of execution, but had countries like Baharuth or Re-Estize possessed such things as a Miko Princess, stealing a crown would have been considered a capital act as well. A Miku Princess would give up mind and soul to her crown, and in exchange would become an instrument of such divine magical power as to match even the most powerful arcanists of the Empire. Once put on, the crown became an inseparable part of a princess¡¯s being. To rip one off of her head would cause unimaginable damage.

    Evileye, you¡¯re always a wildcard. You can¡¯t be planned around can you?

    ¡°Still, Renner isn¡¯t wrong. Even if they are in Tob hunting a defector, they are disguised as Imperials. They still are destabilizing what little peace we have. Who¡¯s to say they won''t continue even after they kill the traitor. Besides, Evileye, haven¡¯t we wanted to destroy Eight Fingers for a long time?¡±

    Lakyus, friend that she was, quickly salvaged Renner¡¯s plan.

    ¡°True. Finally eliminating that cancer would be satisfying.¡±

    Renner smiled, the Blue Roses had agreed to her course of action. Although no details had been divined, they wanted to help her weaken Eight Fingers.

    ¡°My patronage for your activities will need to be anonymous. I already earned the ire of Slane when I banned slavery. I don¡¯t want to make myself more of a target for them.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I don¡¯t think anyone here would fight that point. So, Your Highness, where do we start?¡±

    Renner had spent the last two days preparing a list of targets. With the permission of Ramposa, she had traveled to the eastern gates of the city to give a small speech to rouse the guards. It was the sort of popular appeal that made Renner so valuable as an asset to appease the charges of the nobility. While she was there, she used Climb to acquire logs of entry and egress. By candlelight, she had thumbed through the manifests, cross checking and identifying irregularities, and by dawn had produced a list of seven regular shipments that were likely to be carrying contraband. This meant she forwent sleep, and as a result, she was wearing copious amounts of dark-circle concealer and the tea she was sipping was brewed triple strength.

    ¡°Climb, go into my bedroom and retrieve the piece of paper I have on my desk. It¡¯ll be on top of the ledger from the gate-guards.¡±

    Climb looked slightly embarrassed, but stood and walked to the door. Lakyus poured herself and Evileye cups of tea, sipped, and twisted her face at the taste. Evileye lifted her mask slightly, and drank; unsatisfied with the temperature, she snapped her fingers and produced a flame from their tips, using it to heat her cup. Climb walked back in, carrying a single sheet of parchment. Renner indicated that he should give it to Lakyus.

    ¡°Those are a set of five shipments that occur at regular intervals, likely to be carrying black dust. I have the likely dates and times of their arrivals listed below. There are an additional two shipments that I thought were suspicious, but I¡¯m less certain about them.¡±

    ¡°This says one of these is likely to arrive tonight?¡±

    ¡°Yes, now it¡¯s possible that many of the guards have compartmentalized information, and don¡¯t know what they¡¯re transporting. However, the one who provides the manifest to the guard should know. He¡¯ll be the one to deliver the bribe. Identify, capture, and interrogate them.¡±

    ¡°What should we do to the manifest bearer after?¡±

    Kill them.

    ¡°Whatever you see fit. I¡¯ll pay you out a platinum standard-weight for the information.¡±

    This was a spectacular amount of money, and accounted for about two months of Renner¡¯s allowance, or about a decade of work on the part of a peasant. The Blue Roses were adamantite ranked adventurers, the highest ranked possible. This sort of payment would be typical to hire them, but adding on guild fees, variable costs like transport, and even guarding the delivery of the money to the guild vault itself could nearly double that.

    ¡°Half-weight. This is under the table work, so we dodge the eye of the guild on this. Besides, we¡¯ve been waiting for you to give us the go ahead to hunt down Eight Eight fingers for a while now.¡±

    Lakyus had a determined look on her face, and presumably Evileye did too. Eight Fingers had long been a villain in the periphery. Many of the nobles who hired them were likely paying them in part with the proceeds of that crime network. To finally be able to seek and destroy was a joy long coming.

    ¡°Good. Please don¡¯t hit more than two Eight Fingers¡¯ patrols at the gates themselves. Any more and they won¡¯t write it off as an unlucky coincidence. I¡¯ll write a bill of withdrawal for you. Oh and Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking I would get Climb some new armor. I know steel can be easily pierced by the things you encounter on a regular basis, and I worry for his safety.¡±

    Climb blushed, and Lakyus suppressed a chuckle at the sight of him. Climb was the darling of the Golden Princess, and thus in the eyes of the Blue Roses, was their darling too. Although his fighting ability did not rise to the level of any individual Adamantite adventurer, he had a strong spirit despite his boyhood, and that was endearing to the entire party.

    ¡°Really? What were you thinking?¡±

    ¡°Mithril full-plate.¡±

    Mithril full-plate was near the height of non-magical protection available to humanity. Stronger and lighter than steel, it has the unique property of not ringing when struck. Even running at full speed, a person outfitted in it would not create much noise. There were stronger metals, but they became far more than cost prohibitive.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a problem. Actually, I¡¯m pretty sure we have enough stock on hand to create him some.¡±

    The life of a top adventurer very frequently brings a person in contact with creatures and beings who outfit themselves in their strongest weapons and armor. When they are slain, they leave their possessions behind. When a group of people make it a career to hunt and destroy such monsters, they tend to accumulate a lot of such equipment. The Blue Roses had a small warehouse to this end. Giving away the stock of mithril necessary to produce such armor, was to them, no expense at all.

    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s wonderful!¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Plus, there¡¯s a forge here that owes us a favor. So no charge.¡±

    This was a rare gift, which to any layperson would have been shocking. Adventurers were normally very exacting in payment, and not without cause. To kill a horde of goblins and then be stiffed on the backend was common enough for groups to become zealous in securing coin for their services. This was the reaction Climb was currently experiencing, and his mouth was slightly agape. He stood up sharply and bowed.

    ¡°T-thank you! I deeply appreciate this. To you Lady Aindra and all of the Blue Roses.¡±

    ¡°Of course Climb. Please, you don¡¯t need to bow. Use it to protect the Princess.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes!¡±

    Maid Elena finally returned with a platter of biscuits, warm and fresh to the touch. As she set them on the table, Renner began to author the payment for the Blue Roses. Handing them a completed bill of withdrawal, Renner grabbed a biscuit and took a bite.

    ¡ª

    The chamber was lit by only a few beams of light, but cacophony filled the room. The two figures silhouetted were in a tight melee, clangs of metal on metal and hard blows drowned out all other sound in the room. Both were large, and their attacks were filled with such power as too inspire terror among most who would witness it. Suddenly, one figure gained a visible upperhand, disarming the other of their hammer. Taking a punch from a now empty handed opponent, the figure brought a blade down close to the throat of the other. The sparring match stopped, and two low laughs filled the chamber.

    ¡°You really had to slip that punch in the end?¡±

    ¡°Ay, I¡¯m a sore loser Gazef.¡±

    ¡°I can see that. Feel it too.¡±

    ¡°...Shit, I thought I had it as long as I could hold out.¡±

    ¡°Keep that ambition up.¡±

    ¡°Ay, I will.¡±

    Gazef and Gagaran walked over near the door to the room, breathing heavily. Stripping off their plate, they sat on a wooden bench undersized for their frames and ladled water from a bucket over themselves. Tina and Tina, both lurking in a dark corner of a room found the sight comical

    ¡°Neither of you have any modesty.¡±

    ¡°Tia don¡¯t give us shit.¡±

    Gazef broke into a laugh at Gagaran¡¯s lack of etiquette, and then quickly regretted it as it robbed him of his breath. Silence filled the room for a few minutes, punctuated by the sound of towels being wrung and winces of pain at wounds being tended. After both had sufficiently slowed their heart rates, Gazef spoke up in a low tone.

    ¡°Oy, Gagaran.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I have a problem.¡±

    Sensing the seriousness in his words, Gagaran dropped her jovial attitude, a cool level of professionalism filling her words.

    ¡°What problem?¡±

    Gazef spilled his fears to Gagaran, Tia, and Tina, the three of whom punctuated his confession with questions. The room grew colder. As he was finishing up, there was a knock on the door, Lakyus entering.

    ¡°Fiendish boss.¡±

    ¡°Tia, Tina, Gazef, Gagaran. Who won the spar? You both look terrible.¡±

    ¡°He did the bastard! But uh, Lakyus, actually there¡¯s something important you should know. Gazef thinks-¡±

    ¡°The Slane Theocracy is provoking conflict between us and the Empire. The Princess already told us. It''s concerning.¡±

    Gazef felt the wind taken out of his sails, and his head began to swirl with questions.

    The Third Princess Renner? How would she know about that?

    ¡°Huh, Gazef you didn¡¯t tell me you talked to her about that already.¡±

    Wait, this wasn¡¯t simply a social call? Renner collaborates with them on strategy and tactics?!

    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±

    Did she figure this out herself?

    Gagaran looked slightly flummoxed, and then gave a nervous laugh.

    ¡°Oy, the Princess is kinda scary isn¡¯t she?¡±

    Everyone present silently agreed with Gagaran.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (7)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 2]

    Tina was starting to get a headache. Her skull was overpressurized, blood pooling at the top of her head. She had been hanging upside down for the last hour, and it was beginning to get boring. Her legs were wrapped around one of the rafters, themselves the slanted offshoots for the main beam that stretched the building. It had been a spendthrift project, producing an overly opulent structure - near cathedral-like in its appearance - as a symbol of law and order; a woodwork promise to the people that contraband would not make it in or out of city walls. This was made ironic by Tina¡¯s mission on multiple levels, but the main reason was the man below her. He was Chief inspector Durnen, and there was no traffic that passed through the Capital¡¯s east gate that did not fall under his watchful eye. Of course, seeing didn¡¯t mean much if he could be bribed into not speaking about it.

    Her left leg cramped. Grabbing the top of the beam with her hands, she pulled herself up slightly, meaning her body weight was no longer borne by her legs. She spread them, stretching and relieving much of the tension that had built up. Her sister, two beams to Tina¡¯s left, did the same. The ceiling in this office was unusually high, and the elevation of Tia and Tina above their mark meant that the weak candlelight he was using to scribble out inspection reports would not illuminate them. They had faded into the gloom, and became just another pair of stalkers that hid in the depths of the night.

    A series of raps came against the door. Biding the visitor to come in, a man entered the room.

    ¡°Caravan, correct? We¡¯ll need to perform an inspection on each of your carts. Please provide your manifest, and sign here, here, and here. Before coming here you should have precalculated the tax levy. If you are part of a company or guild they should have done this for you. Place your coinage on the scale.¡±

    The man who entered placed several dozen gold coins on Durnen¡¯s desk scale, far more than required. Handing Durnen a manifest, the man stood silently and watched the bureaucrat. Durnen flipped around the forms that he had asked the man to complete and began to fill them out himself. Within a minute, he had completed the sheet, and had turned around in his chair and began filling out another form. Finished and satisfied, he removed the coins from the scale, put them in his desk, and handed the sheet of parchment to the other man.

    ¡°Here¡¯s your completed inspection report. It''s late at night, so watch for criminals and miscreants. Godsspeed.¡±

    What a smooth interaction. No verbal innuendo or bargaining from either party. He¡¯s experienced at being corrupt.

    This was all the proof Tina and Tia needed. They positioned themselves above the men, and let go.

    ¡ª

    Evileye was standing in a field, leaning against a post. The scarecrow that had once occupied it had been ripped off, and it was the only structure or tree in the field which she could support her bodyweight against. Although it was near midnight, the full moon blazed high in the sky, and she would have been clearly identifiable to anyone who walked along the road. This was not the case however, for she had made herself invisible.

    Evileye removed a small object from one of the pockets in the liner of her cloak. It was in the shape of a nearly flat circle, and under a small glass sheet were three separate dials moving at varying speed. A useful toy she had acquired long ago, Evileye used it to tell the time.

    Two minutes.

    She had been following a small convoy of wagons for the last three hours. Invisible, she had floated among the guards, listening to their hidden words.

    Minute thirty.

    Drifting in a world of hushed tones and secrets, Evileye had finally caught something with her ears.

    One minute.

    A few words, exchanged between two men driving the rear wagon, asking about where they would stash the Laira they had hidden under their barrels of barley.

    Thirty seconds.

    On hearing that, Evileye had flown a mile ahead of the wagon train, and began the process of preparing her snare.

    Fifteen seconds .

    The umber sea was illuminated in the distance, the orange light of flame causing the shadows of the grainfield to waver.

    Ten seconds.

    Evileye had weaved arcane incantations, lacing the air with invisible tripwires and spellbombs. These enveloped the road, and horse and man alike walked past them, entirely unaware of their presence.

    Five Seconds.

    ¡ª

    Lakyus felt her heart race. She was standing an arms length away from the door to an abandoned farmstead; at least it was abandoned until Eight Fingers began to use it as a waystation. She knew that beyond the door were seven people, at least two of them enforcers; that once she broke it down, she would need to kill at least six, and capture the remaining one alive. She would have to be swift, lest anyone find egress on the back of a horse. Any mistake on her part could result in the cold steel of her enemy plunging into her body. This was not why her heart was racing.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Kill them all Lakyus, it would be easier that way.

    Her grip tightened. No matter what ghosts haunted Gagaran, what aggrieved victims pursued Tina and Tia, or whatever curses befell Evileye, Lakyus bore a burden she was certain was the heaviest.

    You would enjoy it. You¡¯re that sort of person.

    The blade she bore, leveled against the lock on the door, was that burden.

    What are you waiting for? Kill them and take their essence.

    It was long and broad, a bastard sword jet black in color. Specks of unlight shone from its surface in detestable and unnatural patterns. The pommel of the blade was inlaid with a dark sapphire, as black as the night surrounding her.

    Crush them.

    This sword¡¯s name was Kilineiram. It was a weapon from the age of heros; the Fourth of Four, of the Thirteenth of Thirteen. The foremost Blade of Darkness, born by the Black Knight himself. It was an anathema.

    Subsume them.

    Lakyus¡¯s mind roiled. Moonlight defined its edges, a kaleidoscope of malediction reflecting into her eyes. The sword was not sentient, but looking into it belied the weakness of the senses. The  obsidian darkness was foremost a glass, through which the deepest parts of the psyche could find themselves illuminated. Lakyus bore this blade, a shard of negative energy thought to have been formed by the steady deposition of planes lower and fouler than this one, and she bore it proudly.

    Although she knew that the words polluting her mind were delusions of her own doing, Lakyus could not help but fear in her heart that this cursed blade was corrupting her. Clearing her mind, she stepped back. Tensing power in her body, she exploded forward, shattering the lock on the door with a kick.

    ¡ª

    Gagaran struck again at the tree with her ax. The sweat on her arms glistened in the faint light of the waxing penumbra. Dawn was hours away, and she had to hurry. She struck again, and again, and again a final time, felling the tree. It was an adolescent birch, and broke under Gagaran¡¯s assault with little resistance. This made her count eighteen, and although she would have prepared more, she felt pressed for time.

    Grunting, she lifted it onto her shoulder, and steadily walked up the hill behind her, passing several stumps of her former conquests. A river was near, and the roar of rushing water was yet another aspect of the summer months. The night was warm, and the hum of insects provided a soothing tune for the coming day. As she walked, her legs burned, and with her free hand she reached into her bag and withdrew a small vile. Pulling the cork with her teeth, she spat it away and downed the liquid inside. It was sickly sweet, and had she not braced herself for the taste, she would have spat that out too. The aches in her body began to fade, and within a few minutes, her fatigue would ebb away completely.

    Nearing the top, the pile of other logs came into view. They were resting on the opposite downslope, but were prevented from rolling down by her warhammer, whose pummel had been thrust into the soil. Cresting the hill, Gagaran set down the log on top of the rest, then looked down the slope.

    Her quarry was a small nest of tents, with a count of six horses tied by the river¡¯s edge. Tracking them through the day, she realized from gait and endurance that they were skilled warriors. When they sat down to rest for the night, one had remained dutifully awake at all times, scanning the darkness for man or beast, combatant or monster. Their choice of rest was not done mindlessly either, they sat in the center of a wide clearing; protected by a wall of water behind them and a field in front that would give them significant reaction time.

    She could win one duel, or three; but six was pushing it. Despite her outward bluster and confidence, the cooler part of her mind prevailed, and she had no intention of attacking them with anything that was not a surprise. Although she could fell the watchman before any others were capable of engaging, a charge over such distance would leave her tired and off her edge. Gagaran decided to improvise.

    Her gaze on the encampment below, she closed her eyes and focused on her body. She felt her lungs swell with air, the beat of her heart, and the rhythm of her Ki. She was ready. In a swift motion she wrenched her warhammer from the ground. The logs began to move, rolling and bouncing down the hill in an arboreal avalanche, the camp directly in its path. After being satisfied that her plan was going to work, Gagaran congratulated herself for her ingenious idea, and charged after them.

    ¡ª

    Everett Jal slowly began to rouse. Slipping into consciousness, the first thing his mind conceived was pain. His head was pounding; his skull felt like it was splitting itself in half. He pieced the first thoughts of the day together.

    How late was I out last night? I must have drank the whole fucking town under.

    Yet, he was not satisfied with the simple explanation of a hangover. His whole body hurt, his shins especially. As awareness crept into his mind, he began to ask more questions.

    Why am I upright? Am I in a chair? Wait, why can¡¯t I move?

    At this he shot awake, jerking forward only to feel ropes dig deep and force the air from his chest. Struggling to breathe, he quickly started to remember fragments of his previous thread of consciousness.

    No, I wasn''t out drinking! I was asleep, Kelvos shouted the alarm and suddenly something heavy struck the side of the tent and crushed it flat.

    He opened his eyes only to find himself in the dark. He was bound in a chair, sitting at a table lit with only a dim candle. Worse, he couldn¡¯t bring his eyes to focus, swelling forcing his right eye into a squint.

    Shit! I¡¯ve been captured.

    Struggling against his bonds only served to bruise him more. They would not move. Suddenly, a face appeared before him. It was bone-white, with thin slits where there should have been eyes, and no mouth.

    A ghost?! N-no, that¡¯s a mask.

    More details of the specter in front of him came into view. The mask was enveloped with red, a cloak. It was draped over a body, hiding it entirely from view. Everett felt his heart sink.

    It can¡¯t be. That¡¯s¡­ oh my Gods, that¡¯s Evileye isn¡¯t? Have I been captured by the Blue Roses!?

    Four more figures slowly came into view, and he felt his heart sink deeper. A low and gruff voice came from the largest of them.

    ¡°Oy, loverboy, are you going to make us ask questions, or can you make this easy on us and just tell us everything you know?¡±

    I¡¯m fucked.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (8)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 6]

    Ahh this matches his eyes.

    Renner burrowed her nose in the hydrangeas, and breathed in. The sickly sweet smell reminded her that it was the eve of summer. She was happy. Using the shears in her left hand, she snipped the flowers at the base and righted herself. Turning to the right, she nestled the hydrangeas in a growing bouquet. Her puppy was holding it for her, trailing her around the flower garden. One of the greatest luxuries of the palace, the garden on the southern side of the palace was in full bloom. Filled with species and cuts of flowers from across the kingdom, it was a field of color.

    Scanning her surroundings, her vision fell on some white petunias. An idea came to mind. Looking back to Climb, mischief brewed in her eyes, and a sly smile grew on her face. Pirouetting in place, she swept her sight, making sure no one was close enough to see. Surrounding the garden was a wide and vast lawn, whose acreage was itself exorbitant to maintain. It was of such size that Renner and Climb were fifty meters from any permanent roofed structure, and also fifty meters from anyone else. Quickly crouching, she snipped a single flower, leaving its stem deliberately short. As she stood up, Climb, confused by her strange actions, held the bouquet out for her. Before he could react, she closed the distance between them and nestled its stem on the top of his left ear.

    Wonderful.

    Renner giggled, and Climb turned so red as to match with the roses behind him. He was smiling too, teenage love overbrimming. They both started to laugh, but Climb suddenly stiffened. Renner turned, and saw Gazef Stronoff exiting one of the smaller south-side doors. He caught the two of them in his sight, and started to walk towards them.

    Ah, Lakyus must have told him. I¡¯ll need to handle this conversation carefully.

    Gazef, in a stripped down version of his dress uniform, turned the corners on the meandering stone path towards the garden, growing closer.

    This is slightly unexpected. Gazef must have needed a few days to decide to talk to me. I wonder what I can do with this opportunity? If I can get Father¡¯s bodyguard, the Warrior-Captain in my camp, the benefits that could bring¡­ it''s impossible to scry and remain levelheaded.

    As little political power Renner possessed, her friendship with the Blue Roses gave her not insignificant access to force. The thought of getting Gazef on her side was intriguing for that very reason. Gazef was now four meters away, he bowed.

    ¡°Warrior-Captain, is my father sending for me?¡±

    ¡°No your highness, and forgive me for interrupting you. I wanted to ask you a question.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Renner feigned surprise, setting her finger on her chin and cocking her head slightly.

    ¡°Y-yes. When, when you met with Lady Aindra of the Blue Roses, did y-¡±

    Gazef paused, clearly trying to recuperate his thoughts. A look on his face belied his internal turmoil.

    ¡°Did you tell her that the Slane Theocracy was in Tob?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that matter. Yes I did tell her that.¡±

    Gazef was stunned. He had not expected such a candid answer, and his confusion grew.

    ¡°Forgive me, Your Highness, how did you acquire that information?¡±

    ¡°Through you.¡±

    For a second time, he was speechless. Forgetting his decorum, he stuttered out a response.

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Well, when my brother handed you that sword, you had a very strange look on your face. There was obviously something wrong with the sword, and I just needed to figure out why you would be afraid to state it to my father.¡±

    Gazef¡¯s face quickly turned dour, and he lowered his face slightly.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok Captain, I don¡¯t think anyone else knows. I had no intention of telling my father.¡±

    That¡¯s an important seed to plant. You need to understand how much leverage I hold over you. If it was common knowledge that you had intentionally withheld a suspicion from the King, a suspicion that the Theocracy was operating within our borders, nobles through several rounds of exaggeration could make the argument that you are a traitor. Gazef, you¡¯ve played right into me.

    Gazef gave an appreciative bow. On the upswing, his eyes snagged on Climb.

    He sees the flower. No matter. I ought to present to him an understandable version of myself. Showing Climb as my sweetheart only aids in that narrative, no? Sans such utilitarian construction, it is after all, the truth.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Warrior-Captain, may I ask a few questions?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°How could you tell it was a blade of Theocratic origin?¡±

    ¡°The  weaving on the sheath¡¯s exterior is one of the ways that they inscribe divine magic, your highness. The thatching pattern imbues words of power.¡±

    Eh? That was completely afield my perception.

    ¡°Ahh. Say, Gazef. Why do you think they¡¯re in Tob.¡±

    ¡°Well, it could be a lot of things. It¡¯s possible the knight Barbro said they killed was actually an Imperial Knight. If it was an elite unit that was doing operations deep in our territory, it''s possible they''d have done the same in the Theocracy, and merely took it as a war trophy.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t think that¡¯s likely?¡±

    ¡°Well, to be honest. The Theocracy is fairly ascetic, and anyone who actually bears a blade like that would probably be fairly high in their rankings. Potentially a member of the Six Scriptures. I can¡¯t imagine Imperial Knights being able to take that blade.¡±

    I would never have divined that either, at least not easily. Gazef would be very useful as a voice on martial matters, equal to Lakyus. Further, I could have easier access to him than any of the Blue Roses. No one would question me meeting with my father¡¯s bodyguard.

    Renner looked down his body, eyes settling on his sword. She dismissed her earlier strategy as ill-conceived.

    He¡¯s an honorable man. Passive intimidation won¡¯t be viable long term to extract information from him, especially once the Theocracy¡¯s involvement within our borders is revealed. He won¡¯t let me into his confidence unless I show him deep empathy, until I show him the face I show to the Blue Roses.

    Renner spoke up, but quieter, and with a somber timbre in her voice.

    ¡°Gazef, what would it take for you to stop them?¡±

    He looked silently at her, contemplating his next words.

    ¡°I would need to be deployed there, and I would need to find them. Still, even the weakest of the Scriptures field true warriors.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    He went silent again.

    ¡°You¡¯re like your father.¡±

    What?

    Renner was confused. More bafflingly, she saw Climb smile and nod in her peripheral vision. She gave a frank and confused smile.

    ¡°You truly care for the people of the Kingdom, your highness.¡±

    Ah. That makes sense. This is a good sign.

    ¡°Gazef, if you end up being called to the east, please be careful.¡±

    ¡°I will, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Please tell me what you find out there.¡±

    ¡°I will, Your Highness.¡±

    He bowed one final time, and began to walk away. Renner began to reflect.

    I think my approach up until now has been wrong. I will never be able to gain political leverage that I can use to gain a future for me and Climb because I can never be a political free agent. But that doesn¡¯t stop me from courting hard power. If I can come to Zanac with the backing of an adamantite adventurer team and the Warrior-Captain, that would be a swift path to a quiet life.

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 8]

    It was a week after their last meeting when Lakyus returned to Renner. Renner had been struck by a bout of boredom, and so had left the palace for the day. Surrounding the palace were a number of smaller demesnes, living spaces for nobility, as well as a limited number of businesses catering to their tastes. Over the course of the last few decades, cultural cross-pollination had slunk its way from Baharuth into the Kingdom. Unlike Re-Estize, the Empire had a burgeoning tradition of street food, and what emissaries had traveled to the Empire often came back hungering for the tastes of the east. Through a combination of happenstance (the collapse of a minor house to bankruptcy, and its disposed head Chef encountering an imperial cookbook) and a sudden demand for the cuisine, the first restaurant opened in Re-Estize. The model was successful, and several additional gastronoms began to open. It was at one such business, ¡°The Colonnade¡±, that Renner and Lakyus met.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    They were alone with the exception of Climb. Catering to their clients, all tables were sectioned off in individual rooms, and this outing served a double-purpose, providing them with privacy. Lakyus entered with a stack of parchment.

    ¡°You always do such expedient work.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been sent on harder jobs.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re always too humble, too. Is that your report?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it a report, do you know how hard it is to get Gagaran or Evileye to write anything about their perspectives? I had to remind both of them that we were working for you.¡±

    Renner giggled, and Lakyus took a seat opposite from her. A waiter arrived and handed the pair menus, and was promptly dismissed.

    ¡°So, Lakyus, what did you accomplish?¡±

    ¡°We were able to investigate all seven of the convoys you mentioned, and we determined six in the service of Eight Fingers. We conducted strikes on those convoys, as well as what we believe to have been a safehouse. We found and destroyed a few hundred standard weights of Black Dust, and around a few thousand standard weights of Laira. We also found and burned a small field.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very impressive.¡±

    They were able to do more than I expected. Burned a safehouse? I wonder how large Eight Fingers really is.

    ¡°To be honest Your Highness, I don¡¯t think we did that much.¡±

    ¡°In comparison to the size of the syndicate? Probably not. What about prisoners?¡±

    ¡°We took a total of seven prisoners. However, we were only able to conduct five interrogations.¡±

    Oh? How did this happen?

    Lakyus lowered her voice, heading off Renner¡¯s next question.

    ¡°They killed themselves in captivity.¡±

    ¡°How horrifying!¡±

    How interesting.

    Lakyus looked at Renner and gave a faint smile. Climb was clearly disturbed by what had been said, and his hands instinctively drifted towards his sword, even without a present danger. Renner looked down, contemplating what to say next.

    ¡°They feared their superiors that much?¡±

    ¡°They must have. These were the two we believed to be the highest ranking of the people we captured, too.¡±

    ¡°To think the people higher up in the organization were willing to die before they incurred the wrath of Eight Fingers for being captured.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness. I think you understand what this means.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°I think the rumors of Six Arms¡¯ brutality are true.¡±

    Eight Fingers was split into eight divisions, and although seven were focused on external criminal activity, the final division focused on keeping its own members in line. The Security division was Eight Fingers¡¯ source of hard power, and among its ranks of mercenaries, enforcers, and soldiers was a rogue adventuring team, Six Arms. Although they had never been evaluated in the eyes of the Adventuring Guild, the belief was that they possessed equal fighting power to any other Adamantite-ranked team. This made them a match for the Blue Roses.

    Those two possessed more information about the organization than anyone else we found. If those with more information fear it more, then that means that the rumors of Eight Fingers brutality to its own is true. I suppose Six Arms is seen as a genuine threat to those in its power structure.

    ¡°Bad enough to inspire suicide among their own men?¡±

    ¡°They must be. Your Highness, Six Arms is a tough opponent. There¡¯s a good chance they''d be a match for us, at least without Evileye on our side.¡±

    Renner paused, and lowered her voice, putting on a show of doubt.

    ¡°Lakyus, are we making a mistake by going after them?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not. Your Highness-, Renner, this is going to be a long and hard fight. We¡¯ve wanted to take down these bastards for a long time, and we need you to help us sift through what information we did get.¡±

    Ahh she¡¯s getting more forceful. I must have struck a nerve.

    ¡°Gagaran is rubbing off on you, Lakyus.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, forgive my inetiquette. Please understand that things like their men killing themselves to avoid interrogation will continue to occur. There''s a good chance that as things escalate, we¡¯ll have to go up against Six Arms more.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Yes. I understand.¡±

    ¡°Renner, what do you know about Six Arms?¡±

    ¡°Nothing really. Just that they have six members.¡±

    I really don¡¯t know much about them. It''s almost impossible for me to obtain any information about such internal matters.

    ¡°They do count six. Four of them are swordsmen, one some sort of mage, and the last a brawler, likely a monk who broke his vow of pacifism. There are rumors that they count an undead in their number, probably the caster.¡±

    ¡°An undead? A former member of Zurrernorn perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but it''s difficult to tell. Not every lich in this world crawled out of the same hole Zurrernorn did. Besides, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m concerned about.¡±

    ¡°What then?¡±

    ¡°The Monk. We know his name, Zero. As far as we can tell, he is the strongest among them. He may be a warrior like Gagaran, maybe even exceed her.¡±

    ¡°How scary¡­¡±

    ¡°Still, we won¡¯t let that stop us from taking them down.¡±

    You¡¯re ravenous aren¡¯t you? That¡¯s good.

    Renner smiled, slid the reports over to her side, and began to read them.

    So the inspector at the East Gate is corrupt? That¡¯s unsurprising. It¡¯s probably not much of a leap to assume the rest of them receive at least some payoff. This mentions that Lakyus found Eight Fingers men resting at what seemed to be an abandoned farmstead. This may not be an uncommon practice. I¡¯ll cross reference the convoy routes with existing maps and travel times, and attempt to identify other rest points. These theoretical travel routes intersect about 50 miles west of E-Rantel. There could be a distribution hub in the vicinity.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think we¡¯ve hit too many Eight Fingers convoys at once? Won¡¯t they start to get suspicious?¡±

    Hm? Why would she ask that? Isn¡¯t it obvious

    ¡°We want them to be suspicious.¡±

    Lakyus and Climb both looked at her cockeyed. Renner blanched as she realized her explanation wasn''t sufficient.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll suspect that they have an informant among them. An imposter for their enemies. The leadership won¡¯t think that their activity was discoverable through a parchment trail. They¡¯ll purge people they¡¯re suspicious of, and this will weaken them further. For as many of their men as you took off the streets, they¡¯re going to take off more. We should follow up immediately with a few more strikes, then release the members we captured into the court system.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll be able to identify us as the Blue Roses, but that''s a good thing isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that will deepen their suspicions further. They¡¯ll be paranoid that a noble has become too afraid of them, and hired you as a way out. After all, who else would be able to threaten Eight Fingers besides a group of Adamantite Adventurers? They¡¯ll, in turn, levy accusations and threats against the nobles they are working with, and whom will those nobles turn to for assistance?¡±

    Lakyus smiled, a fire burning in her eyes.

    ¡°To the Adventuring Guild.¡±

    ¡°To you. In this way, we¡¯ll be able to figure out exactly who is in bed with Eight Fingers, weaken organizational integrity, and gain new allies as a result.¡±

    Lakyus leaned back, visibly astonished at the Princess¡¯s words. Climb was shaking slightly, overbrimming with emotion at Renner¡¯s display.

    ¡°...and you call me humble.¡±

    This was obvious though! How didn¡¯t you see it? You haven¡¯t prepared any additional strikes, have you?

    ¡°Still, we didn¡¯t prepare for any followup action.¡±

    Disappointing.

    ¡°That¡¯s ok. We¡¯ll be able to make due. I¡¯ll compile a list of new targets from this for you.¡±

    Renner felt slightly deflated. This was common for her, exceeding her friends and acquaintances so much that she unintentionally left them behind. She dismissed her thoughts, the waiter walking back in a moment of serendipity, carrying a warm basket of bread. Lakyus ordered a spicy breaded chicken dish that Renner was unfamiliar with. Renner was completely lost in the menu, the topic having slipped her mind almost entirely.

    ¡°You know, Your Highness, you should really try eastern foods.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s embarrassing to admit but I really don¡¯t have much culinary experience. So many of these dishes seem heavily spiced¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the joy in them.¡±

    The waiter, who himself was probably a spare son from a minor house, was standing patiently.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have your lentil soup. That sounds interesting. Actually, get me two bowls please.¡±

    He bowed, and left.

    ¡°Two, Princess?¡±

    ¡°Climb hasn¡¯t eaten.¡±

    Climb spoke up for the first time in this conversation in shock.

    ¡°Your Highness, I¡¯m on duty. You don¡¯t need to get me food. I can eat when I¡¯m back at the palace!¡±

    Lakyus smiled.

    ¡°Climb, there are no nobles or maids around to see this happen. Renner isn¡¯t able to do stuff like this for you often. Let her have a little joy.¡±

    The pair of them blushed.

    ¡ª

    Renner was again exhausted. For the last ten hours since she returned from the meeting with Lakyus, she had scoured the interrogation reports and notes of the Blue Roses. Renner had begun to piece together a fuller picture of Eight Fingers, and it was daunting. Eight Fingers likely employed as many individual members as some of the great houses could field soldiers in the annual war - although Eight Fingers could never deploy them at once. She was now certain that the Slavery division had been supplanted entirely by Narcotics, the devistation of both her above-board abolishinist advocacy and now her shadow campaign having robbed them of their power. She had set about determining likely locations of safehouses, gambling and drug dens, and smuggling routes, then, theorizing the optimal targets to strike and destroy.

    Still, so much uncertainty remains. It''s nigh impossible to pin down any details on Six Arms, and the identities of divisional heads are still unknown. It¡¯s heavily compartmentalized, so even if we could get our hands on a higher up, they would likely only know about their own business partners, and not the broader organization. How does one even begin to fight an eight-headed snake?

    Renner sighed silently to herself. She was in bed, the sun having set hours ago, yet she couldn¡¯t quiet her mind enough to sleep.

    I can¡¯t believe Lakyus didn¡¯t see that.

    Renner¡¯s confusion and sadness over her friend¡¯s ignorance kept her awake. She felt herself drift into darker thoughts. As a child, she had repeatedly fallen afoul of her parents and siblings for that reason. So many things that were obvious to her were for others, completely inscrutable. Often when she spoke, no one would listen, a child presenting ideas that to them had made no sense. Worse, she was a princess, and so had been doubly rebuked for expressing such foriegn and strange concepts. With time, she twisted herself slightly, and learned to be quiet.

    Climb was part of that. Having a toy like him - for the most part - managed to keep her satisfied. He was cute and endearing to her as a child, a perfect doll for her to play with. Her father even allowed her to sleep in the same bed as him, hugging him all through the night. As she grew, her desires towards him grew ever more intense even as she was forced further apart. Self discovery through puberty had been a new agony for her. He became enthralling to her, and as she came of age, it was no longer permissible for her to touch him or spend the sort of time with him she desired. She twisted further.

    Renner tried to push these things out of her mind, and thus had avoided diving deep into her psyche. She tried to content herself with fantasies just under the surface of keeping Climb, but these too twisted. She wanted to bind him, both figuratively and literally to herself. To keep him with her. To know she couldn¡¯t was a second agony. This lack of self reflection let things fester deep inside of her.

    Renner was truly lonely.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (9)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 9]

    Renner had yet to recover from the day before, mind embroiled in a mix of loathing and ennui. Despite her higher-self, she picked at her breakfast with little resolve. It was a rich puff pastry, filled with cheeses and jams. She knew she ought to eat, so she forced it down.

    ¡°So you went out with Lady Aindra of the Blue Roses yesterday?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°To one of those- ahh, what are they called?¡±

    ¡°Restaurants.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that''s it.¡±

    Her father rarely had the opportunity to indulge in such things. Even among the open minded highbloods, King Ramposa eating at a place that could be considered Imperial would in itself be a scandal.

    ¡°Was it good? What did you get?¡±

    ¡°A dish from the east, a soup made from lentils. It was vibrant. I¡¯m sure if you wanted to try it you could have the chef come cook in the palace for a day.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t allow one more victory for Barahuth. I¡¯ll never cede control of the borderlands, much less my chef!¡±

    Ramposa laughed at his own joke, suppressing a few subsequent coughs.

    No matter how much they bite at your ankles, you still find ways to laugh.

    ¡°What did you discuss?¡±

    The survival of Re-Estize.

    ¡°Just the recent accomplishments of the Blue Roses.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let her tales of heroics persuade you. I can¡¯t have my daughter going into a life of adventure.¡±

    Lakyus had all but abandoned her title when she went into a life of adventure, a controversial, but undoubtedly profitable move. This made her a rogue factor in most noble¡¯s dealings with adventures; but she had the necessary social liquidity to successfully move in high circles. Ramposa was happy her daughter had built a relationship with Lakyus. The Blue Roses were an asset to the kingdom, and to have at least one Adamantite adventurer team within close grasp of the royal family was valuable beyond traditional reckoning. Still, Renner was starting to wake from her malaise.

    He¡¯s nervous. He doesn¡¯t typically jest like that.

    The air in the room slipped back into silence, with nothing but a few scrapes against the plate, slight shuffling noises against the table, and the chewing of food to be heard. Renner managed to clear her plate, and counted it as a small victory. Ramposa¡¯s face became solemn.

    ¡°Renner.¡±

    ¡°Yes father?¡±

    ¡°I heard you and Barbro had a bit of a disagreement.¡±

    The sunlight was robbed of its color.

    What could this be?

    ¡°...Yes that¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°He brought a representative of a noble with him?¡±

    ¡°Yes, he did. Margrave Harlink¡¯s man. It was a marriage proposal.¡±

    ¡°It seems to be the talk of the Kingdom. Did you tell anyone about it?¡±

    ¡°Maid Lucilia was in the room.¡±

    Ramposa winced. His regality had long kept him in touch with the nature of gossip, and despite certain privileges as the king, he still knew the very basics of controlling the flow of information. He had dismissed maid Nunia for that very reason. Maids in the Kingdom were not commoners, but typically the third or fourth daughters of minor houses. The tradition ensured a tightly knit web of relation and obligation; not only security for women who had no marriage prospects, but a political weapon and network of information. Barbro¡¯s ignorance of this was comical.

    ¡°He gives me so much trouble. He didn¡¯t shout at you, did he.¡±

    ¡°...He did.¡±

    Ramposa sat back in his chair and sighed. This was beyond embarrassing. He bore a heavy burden. A Crown Prince who was unfit to serve, a second son of no particular vocation, a deep rooted factionalism eating away at the kingdom, rampant corruption at all levels of government, and a substantial military threat on the eastern border.

    ¡°Was it a good proposal?¡±

    ¡°He wrote a poem to go along with it. It was certainly flattering, but, well, was overbearing.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Harlink is a false magrave. I gave him those accolades because he was valiant in the fight against the empire, but to think he thought he could shoot to marry you.¡±

    ¡°I think it may have been Barbro¡¯s idea. He seems to be courting the Eastern nobles.¡±

    ¡°He wants my throne, and he¡¯ll have it one day, but it¡¯s so hard to give it to him. The Kingdom is in a poor state.¡±

    They sat in silence for a time, Ramposa finishing his plate.

    ¡°Still, have you given thought to marriage?¡±

    This is bad. I need to be gentle here. He can¡¯t have that much patience left with me.

    ¡°To a degree.¡±

    ¡°Renner¡­¡±

    He¡¯s chiding me. I hope-

    ¡°You¡¯re going to be sixteen in a month¡¯s time.¡±

    ¡°Father-¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t let my daughter make it to seventeen and not be married. It would be a scandal, and you¡¯d be damaging your future. The nobility is fickle, and although it pains me to say, age may become a barrier for you. I don¡¯t want that to happen. You¡¯ve been given your time to play, and to spend time with Climb; but you¡¯re a woman now Renner. You¡¯ve been one for almost two years now. Do you understand?¡±

    No I don¡¯t understand! Why do I have to be shackled to this?! Why do I have to concern myself with matters like marriage or the health of the Kingdom. This is agony! Why can¡¯t I just have my Climb?

    ¡°...I do.¡±

    ¡°I understand no one may seem appealing, but you have the ability to choose. They call you the Golden Princess; men chase you for your beauty. It makes me proud as a father.¡±

    ¡°But surely-¡±

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    ¡°Enough. I see now with Barbro that I have been too lenient on all of you. In a month¡¯s time you will be sixteen, mature and ready for adulthood in full. Come the fall season, I want you to have selected a man to marry. Perhaps the equinox, for a specific date. I don¡¯t expect you to have been bound in matrimony by then, but engaged, yes. Renner, you¡¯re a brilliant girl, no, woman. I know you can find a person who will treat you right, and allow for a stronger future with this Kingdom. It sounds silly to say, but I need your help in this. The Kingdom is fragile, and I need you to help keep it together, even in a little part like marriage.¡±

    ¡°Yes father.¡±

    Ramposa sighed heavier, the discomfort in his daughter¡¯s words evident.

    ¡°Renner, I¡¯m sorry. But things can¡¯t continue like they are.¡±

    ¡°Yes father.¡±

    ¡°Stop, don¡¯t carry an evading tone with me. Renner, I know you fancy Climb; and I¡¯ve given you all the time I can with him. But you need to give him up, he¡¯s a boy, and he has no past. You will not be able to stay in the palace and spend time with him forever.¡±

    If only I could!

    ¡°...Yes father.¡±

    ¡°This is for the best.¡±

    ¡ª

    Damn him! Damn him! Damn him! Damn my regality! Damn my obligations! Damn it all.

    Renner felt as if she had been sundered apart. The daytime sun meant her covers provided little comfort, and she wasn¡¯t seeking rest in them anyway. Her mind broke from whatever moorings had been left, and ran afield in potentials and hypotheticals. It felt every time she came up with some path out of her situation it slipped through her fingers. She felt utterly hopeless, and more than a little overheated. Giving up, she started to ground herself in tangible sureties.

    I¡¯m going to be married or engaged by this time next year. It is an unavoidable reality. I must have the man who I want to marry selected by the equinox. This is also unavoidable. I possess no true political power outside of my bloodline. This is undeniable. I am not a political free agent. This is undeniable.

    Stoicism in the face of reality was better than panicked denial, and Renner felt her heart rate slow, her mind leveling itself into a steady glide. Her situation was grim, but she possessed a levy of control she could grip with all her might.

    What do I possess? I have the trust and ear of the Blue Roses. I may soon have the confidence of the Warrior-Captain too. I have the networks of maids who feed me information, and who I can distribute information through. I have a strategic and tactical understanding of the Kingdom, and its state of being. I have my value as a princess, as royalty. I have Climb.

    Compared to her opposition, to her father, to the man she would have to marry, it wasn¡¯t much. Still, it was enough to allow her to consider an escape from her situation. She began to build a framework on the subject of marriage.

    Considering my father''s words, he desires I marry into a powerful marriage. A marquis, a margrave, or a count of substantial power. I can dismiss everyone not from a Great House. That leaves the sons of Marquis Blumrush, Marquis Pespea, Marquis Raeven, Margrave Urovana, Marquis Boullope, and Count Lytton. Lyton and Boullope are both members of the Nobility faction; a cross faction marriage would be possible with Lyton, but Boullope is off the table completely. Lyton is himself desperate for status, and the hand of the Golden Princess would in itself be a sufficient offer on its own.

    Pespea is Vena¡¯s husband, and such multigenerational marriage with his son is not necessarily unprecedented, it would be in poor taste. Urovana¡¯s second son Novol is unmarried, and he could make a good option. Still, I don¡¯t particularly hold any leverage over them.

    Blumrush¡¯s children would be interesting to say the least; no one seems to have realized that he¡¯s feeding information directly to the Empire. It may be possible for me to make ties to Baharuth that way, although I don¡¯t want to imagine the consequences of that information going public. I doubt I could blackmail him to allow me to have Climb. Reaven is an option. He is publicly independent, but deeply loyal to the king. He¡¯s keeping the entire faction together. would probably make the most bearable father in law. His son is so young though, only five?

    Love marriage was a thing foriegn to the highblooded of Re-Estize, only truly existing in parts of Barahuth¡¯s weakened nobility. Thus, for Renner to consider marriage with those twenty to thirty years her senior, or ten years junior was not unrealistic. She would not be expected to bear children until Reaven¡¯s son was much older, nor would Reaven allow it otherwise. Further, although Lyton was unmarried, he likely would simply father children with other women and only publicly pretend that Renner was the mother. Neither situation was particularly uncommon in the Kingdom. Her thoughts drifted to her brother, and how she could use his assets vicariously.

    Zanac is still my best option for bargaining power. If he can know of my activities against Eight Fingers, about my contribution to the state of the Kingdom, he will see my value clearly. He¡¯s the brightest of my siblings, and he¡¯ll know to let me guide him to the throne. I could be his secret advisor. Surely that would be enough to buy me Climb. I would need to set up a tripartite pact between him, I, and the man I would marry.

    I would offer the elimination of Eight Fingers, the status of marriage into the royal bloodline, and the use of my mind. Zanac would offer political legitimacy, and provide me with the necessary capital to continue living close to what I have now. My betrothed would need to present me with a shallow marriage - without duty - and allow me to keep Climb by my side.

    Renner felt thoroughly planted in the ground, no longer reminding herself of a branch caught in the wind. She slipped out of bed, and started to uncrease her clothing. Her ennui was deep enough after breakfast that she hadn¡¯t changed out of her pale green dress when she got in bed. It was a minor mistake, but one she now had to undo. She strode over to the mirror, and began to remake her appearance.

    Reaven or Lyton are the most viable options. Really, the only options. Lyton would be indebted to me by simply marrying him, but could I stand to take the hand in matrimony of a man who let himself become indebted to Boullope? I¡¯ll go with Reaven. Holding together an entire faction means he possesses a modicum of intelligence.

    As far as specifics, I¡¯ll continue to play the part of the princess I have been. When I¡¯m ready to strike at Eight Fingers in full, I¡¯ll meet with Zanac and Reaven together, reveal my hand, and secure a marriage. The question then becomes one of time. How much can I accomplish in four months?

    She snapped open her pocket mirror, examining herself. She worked on her face, both her makeup and expression. Normally this was bearable, but it was currently taxing what little ability she had.  She began to run through what she had learned of Eight Fingers.

    There is without a doubt a distribution hub outside of Re-Estize. I¡¯ll send Lakyus there next. That ought to give us enough information. It¡¯s possible we could find a lieutenant-captain, and that would be a great boon in its own right. There are so many variables. So many paths that would get us, me, nowhere. It¡¯s overwhelming. I should narrow down its specific location.

    Renner clasped it shut, stood, and went to work.

    ¡ª

    Thirteen, that makes thirteen in three weeks.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    The woman cursed to herself, looking down at a series of reports from her captains. Her study was lit by dim candlelight; piles of reports, inkwells, and spare stationary arranged haphazardly. She was locked away from the world, nestled in a tight space that was hers alone. Frustrated at the quandary before her, she rubbed her forehead.

    Thirteen separate strikes now, across six separate divisions. We clearly have a mole. Maybe someone in Slavery finally flipped. It would make sense, some capo or lieutenant desperate for liquidity. Whoever they are, they clearly have information on the broader organization. Cross division strikes! Whoever is doing this is suicidal.

    She sighed, and pulled a slow puff from an ebony Churchwarden pipe. She had long blond hair, currently unkempt. She was wearing a lacy gown, lingerie-like in its appearance. It was evening-wear, and revealed a long and curling tattoo of a snake with its head above her right breast, tail ending at her forearm. She turned to a letter on her desk, still sealed. Embossed in the red wax was a symmetric hand with eight fingers, with a triangle in its palm. She slit the envelope with a gilded cutter, and withdrew the paper inside. She had been putting this off.

    One of the interrogation reports conducted by Security.

    This was the piece of information that would put the puzzle together, but she always hesitated to read them. She was not above using torture to extract information, but the brutality of the Security division was another thing entirely. Reading it, she hopped her eyes over the details of the extraction to skip to the summary.

    ¡°Subject: Everett Jal ¡­ was released on bail from holding jail in Capital ¡­ subject was flayed until ¡­  Subject and his companions camped on the banks of the Fell Rapids, and were assaulted pre-dawn ¡­ subject¡¯s captors were revealed to be five females, likely the Blue Roses.¡±

    ¡°Shit!¡±

    The woman hit the table in a fit of anger, and threw the letter across the room. Nursing her bruise, she began to plan.

    The Blue Roses? That means someone is paying top bidding for protection. Our guild contacts would have told us if they had been hired through official channels. Clearly this is under the table. Must have been a noble who got scared, and figured an Adamantite team could get them out of their involvement with us. Fucking idiots. That¡¯s just gonna get you killed.

    She was not worried about the Blue Roses; Six Arms could deal with such problems if they arose. Rather, she was angry at the sudden spike in her workload. She was going to have to spend the next month purging her organization. She would have to put pressure on the Laira-addled nobility in her pocket. Being the head of the drug division had its perks - the power to satisfy a physically addicting vice gave her frightening leverage, something she exploited time after time.

    I¡¯ll just threaten to cut them off if they refuse to tell me who flipped.

    Her hand, the pain from her self- inflicted strike abated, drifted over and grabbed another letter on her desk. It contained a single date and time, the next meeting for the entirety of the Eight Fingers organization. She set her hands on her desk and pushed off. Hilma Cygnaeus had a long night ahead of her.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (10)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 24]

    Concentrate. Release. Concentrate. Release. Concentrate. Focus. Slash. Release

    The training dummy was cloved in two. Climb eyes widened as he realized what he did

    Alright!

    He was glowing. This was in itself a difficult feat, but his sword was itself tarnished and bruised. Climb had focused the energies of his body into his blade. Not simply content to use it to merely harden the blade, as he struck the dummy, he released his ephemera through the steel and created a leading false cutting edge formed only from his body power. It was a more advanced technique, but Climb was dedicated to his craft.

    A small round of applause came from a few palace guards who were watching him. They were not knights, but were a rare class of peasant professional soldiers. Because of this, they felt far below matters of faction or politics. Their bloodlines carried no weight, no title. These were, by way of rank and status, the only friends he had at the palace. The only friends he could have. Guard Ehkan, a stubby and round man in his mid forties, was the first to speak up.

    ¡°Fantastic Climb! That was impressive.¡±

    Guard Jonnah, a thin and wiry man only three year¡¯s Climb¡¯s senior, spoke next.

    ¡°Seriously, Climb you¡¯re great at this stuff.¡±

    ¡°You guys¡­¡±

    ¡°Look I know my words may not carry much weight among you youngsters, but Climb, you¡¯re really becoming a formidable combatant.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m no warrior yet.¡±

    ¡°You will be.¡±

    ¡°No I-¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, we know. You¡¯ve said it a dozen times before. ¡®You¡¯re only doing this for the Golden Princess; a perfect and beautiful woman who raised you out of a literal gutter and who has taken care of you your entire life.¡¯ I swear if Ehkan hears that one more time he¡¯s going to go deaf!¡±

    Ehkan and Jonnah both burst into laughter, Climb managing to summon a none-too-bitter expression.

    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°I know it is, she¡¯s all you talk about.¡±

    ¡°Seriously Climb. You don¡¯t need to kiss her arse when she¡¯s not around. She watches your training sessions enough as is, no need to summon her more!¡±

    What?!

    Ehkan elbowed Jonnah, who only realized he went too far in his jest as he doubled over. Seeing this, Climb swallowed the rebuttal sitting on his tongue; face slipping into an inner resentment. Ehkan and Jonnah were friends, but they were not close to him. In truth, the only person who was Renner herself.

    How can he say that about her? She¡¯s dedicated to the Kingdom, to its people. It¡¯s not¡­ sucking up to her to appreciate her. To dedicate myself to her.

    ¡°She saved my life.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. Forgive Jonnah, he''s a little slow in the head. Doesn¡¯t know when to keep his mouth shut. I know you take this business with the Princess seriously. Climb, you¡¯re impressive.¡±

    ¡°I want to be her guardian.¡±

    ¡°You will be. You will be.¡±

    Climb struggled to take a compliment, but conceded the point with a smile. He went back to practice strikes. Over the next fifteen minutes, he managed to release another three strikes of comparable power. The pair watching him let out genuine cheers, but those relations tapered off into unease. He wasn¡¯t a natural warrior, nor a gifted fighter; he was not a physical giant like the Warrior-Captain, nor would he grow into one. No, the thing that allowed Climb to expend such energy was willpower, and willpower alone. One such strike would tax most individuals¡¯ constitution to their limit; a second strike would be lethal. Ehkan and Jonnah were not hot, and indeed were in shade, yet they both broke into a sweat. Upon his fifth such strike, they gave an awkward goodbye, and left. Climb was too exhausted to get out a coherent farewell.

    A few seconds after they exited, Climb slowly slipped downward. Had he not used the tip of his sword to brace himself, he would have collapsed. He ended his descent in a kneel, finally able to rest.

    Five. Hah, that¡¯s good. That¡¯s really good. I did well.

    He sheathed his training sword, and lazily slicked the sweat from his hair. Beads of it rolled down his face; his tongue darted out, and grabbed the salty droplets. It mixed in his mouth with the flavors of blood and stomach acid, driven upward by the rigior of his training.

    If I don¡¯t stand up now, I¡¯m going to fall asleep. I can¡¯t let that happen.

    He forced himself upward, an effort whose difficulty was magnified to titanic proportions by his exhaustion. Planting his feet on the stone below, he walked over to the weapons rack and unbuckled his sword.

    I¡¯m going to have to walk back to my bunk. Gods.

    This was no more than three minutes, but at this moment, it was a task for the Thirteen Heros. He started to exit the room. Passing through the outer door, the sun struck suddenly and relentlessly. The royal palace was a place of beauty, and although training regimens would normally be conducted outside, they did little for the manicured tastes of nobles. Thus, all the activities of the guards and knights occurred in a large tower on the wall. Climb was the only one who was training, everyone else only attending the morning and night exercises. The heat of the day was overwhelming, but he forged onward.

    Walking along the path laid aside for those in gear traveling from the main palace body and the wall, his gaze fell on the verdant lawns of the palace. A veritable host of groundskeepers were working at this moment, watering and clipping the lawn. In the far field of his vision, he spotted the flower garden that Renner had taken him to a few weeks ago.

    Why did she place a flower in my hair? Was it really that cute?

    He blushed at the memory, and finding his sojourn under the purview of the sun at an end, entered into the guardhouse. It was not actually separate from the palace itself, but was still cordoned from the gilded halls of true highblood. He walked past the break room, the armory, the cafeteria, the locker room, the first dormitory, and walked into dormitory two. He passed a number of guards, but also full knights who were rotating on guard duty. Unlike their Imperial counterparts, the Knights of the kingdom found their position through blood alone. Knight houses themselves were lesser to even Barons, yet even still bore some modicums of political leaning. They thus avoided Climb, knowing his unique and entirely untenable status as a no-blood servant to the Princess, at most side-eying him.

    Climb arrived at his bunk, and stripped off his leather chestplate. Going to take off his underlayer, his hand brushed up against something hard and jagged in his shirt pocket.

    Hah. I forgot to take the rocks out of my pocket. No wonder the walk was so difficult. I¡¯m kinda stupid aren¡¯t I?

    Climb could not train in full plate. The practice plate the armory had on stock was too large for him. He needed to guard Renner in full plate however, and to train without this physical restriction in mind would have been foolish. To counter the issue of this lost weight, he had taken to stuffing his pockets to whatever rocks he could find. He now took those out, set them at the chest at the foot of his bunk, along with the rest of his underlayers sans undergarments, and slipped into bed. He was asleep within seconds.

    ¡ª

    Climb felt himself struggle in the mud. Torrential rain fell, unending. The fog obscured his vision, only the faint outlines of buildings and towering figures around him.

    I¡¯m cold. I need to get under something.

    Climb started to walk down alleys and streets, looking for a place not exposed to the rain. He spotted an overhang and headed towards it, yet as he got under, he found it provided no protection. Looking upward, he saw that it had melted away into the gloom, raindrops falling on his face.

    I¡¯m so cold. I need someone to help me.

    There were many passers by. Opening his mouth, he found he could not speak louder than a horse whisper. He tried to shout with all his might, and yet could barely make a sound.

    I need help.

    He desperately reached out to the looming people, yet he could not reach them. They moved so fast, and he couldn¡¯t catch up to anyone. He grew uneasy, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

    I¡¯m in danger. Something is after me.

    He turned around violently, trying to see anything in the mist that was after him. It was suddenly night, and the gloom turned into an abyss. There was no one else around him, everyone was gone. Climb broke into a run, trying to find some place to hide.

    Help me! Help me! Help me!

    He navigated the web of city streets and backways, finally arriving at the main street. There was nobody there. He heard a low growl. Out of the mist walked a dog. Not the manicured dogs of houses, but a mangy and scrappy street dog. It was so much larger than Climb, its fur torn and matted, scars and blood covering its face. Climb tried to scream, but that too came out a whisper. Turning to run he found his legs would not work, and he fell down almost immediately into the mud.

    My face is stuck, I can¡¯t breathe!

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    Climb struggled to pull his face out of the mud, unable to pull breath. His lungs burned. With everything he had, he rotated his head just enough to snatch a few short gasps. He felt the growling grow louder.

    Your Highness help me! Your Highness!

    ¡°-Your Highness-¡±

    He could only whisper. He felt a cold paw step onto his back, then a second.

    I¡¯m going to die, I¡¯m going to die. Your Highness, please help me! Please, Your Highness, please!

    He felt the hound bite his neck

    ¡°Renner help me!¡±

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 25]

    Climb jerked awake, his heart racing. The all-encompassing tactile sensation of being conscious - the covers on top of him, the sweat on his forehead, the subtle urge to pee, the feeling of drawing in dry air -  all grounded him in the moment. His mind was arrested violently, ripped back into reality in a way that while appreciated, was disconcerting.

    That was a bad nightmare.

    Climb rubbed his face, and let out a slow and calm breath. In moments like this, where he was at his weakest, Climb resorted to his warrior training. He forcibly slowed his breath, felt the flow of his body, and slipped into a light meditation. It helped him, and after doing so for two minutes, he felt more sure of himself. Opening his eyes, he let his mind address what had happened.

    That¡¯s the worst nightmare I¡¯ve had in a while. Gods¡­

    The room was dark, clearly nighttime. This did not surprise Climb, he had contented himself with the fact that he was to destroy his sleep schedule by going to sleep. Exhaustion had gripped him so deeply after the training he had no choice but to invert his waking and sleeping hours. Qualia rushed into him. His mouth felt bone dry, in need of hydration. His muscles screamed, sore and abused. The subtle urge to pee increased its volume until it was an undeniable need.

    I¡¯m not going back to sleep. Might as well get up.

    Climb attempted to crunch into a sitting position, but he quickly regretted it. He understood little of the physio-alchemy behind it, but he knew that working out caused muscles to tear and secrete some caustic substance which flooded into those tears and hurt. Or so the court physician had said, it was over his head.

    And something about that makes the muscles grow stronger? I¡¯ll never know.

    Climb mentally shrugged, and let the thought drift away. He committed himself to actually getting up this time, and after a few seconds of struggle to get into a sitting position, a minute of rest, and another few seconds of struggle to plant his feet on the flood, he found himself upright. He found his way to the chamberpot, walking past dozens of bunk''d snoring guards and knights who¡¯s duty called them to spend the night in the guardhouse. He relieved himself, and felt a comparable decrease in his stress.

    I¡¯m thirsty as plains-grass on a summer day.

    This was an undoubtedly rural analogy that Climb had picked up from Gagaran, but he liked the way it sounded, and silently chuckled to himself at the thought of him using it. Still, that did not abate his thirst, so he walked over to one of the available buckets in the corner of the room filled with drinking water. The men in this room very frequently woke up in the night needing water, either out of drunken slumbers or in the sort of muscular screaming Climb was currently experiencing. Thusly, they almost always hungered for water at night, and after a few infamous incidents where no one had remembered to bring in buckets of the stuff (and men made piecemeal dashes to the well across the palace throughout the breadth of the nocturne), they had elected a system of straws. Climb was not conscious to witness this, but Guard Gregor had drawn the short straw tonight, and dutifully carried back half a dozen sloshing buckets, one of which Climb was now ladeling into his mouth.

    Better. I wonder what water Her Highness keeps in her room at night? Ah, wait. She has that glass pitcher of hers.

    As a child, Climb had been granted the rare privilege to sleep with Renner, although more by her demand than anything else. She would grip him tight like a plush toy, and he would dutifully let her squeeze the life out of him. He remembered now that she did keep that glass pitcher by her bedside, satisfying his curiosity. A twinge of forelonging gripped him, and he tried his best to suppress it.

    I ought not think such things. She¡¯s not mine to be¡­ jealous of.

    Climb could never fully shake these thoughts, and so started off to his bedside to distract himself. Climb dressed, although it hurt. He was wide awake, and despite the soreness of his body, he knew lying in bed would only lead his mind to dark places. Finally huffing on his leather piece, he set off, intending to join the nightwatch for the evening.

    Passing by the cafeteria, he looked inside to see if anything was left. A single lamp hung over the center table, and revealed the first fruits of summer. Clearly a palace official had a magnanimous whim (or was simply trying to offload spare produce that would otherwise rot on the vine), for there was actually fruit provided today. Climb went over to the basket and grabbed one with a thick and yellowish rind. Legend had it that the fruit he was holding, a ¡®Yuzu¡¯, was a food introduced by the Six Gods of the theocracy six-hundred years ago. It was still used in the Theocracy today, although never eaten straight as Climb now was. The cultivars that had made it to the Kingdom had lost much of their seeds, and as a result became much more comparable to other citrus fruits. He started to peel and eat it on the way out.

    This is tasty, but I wouldn¡¯t exactly call it a ¡°Fruit of the Gods.¡±

    Climb walked outside; with the dusk only recently completing itself, the air was still warm enough to be comfortable, and Climb walked to the palace wall. The night provided an unsettling deja vu, and Climb had to consciously dismiss the errant thought that he was still in his dream. He approached a pair of guards, who guided themselves with a lamplight. Although making no effort to be stealthy, he still startled them, and earned himself a rebuke.

    ¡°Hark! Who goes there?¡±

    ¡°Adjutant Guard of the Golden Princess Climb, sir.¡±

    ¡°Gods it''s just you, you scared the daylights out of me.¡±

    What daylight? Isn¡¯t it night?

    Climb mentally engaged in a little dry humor, trying his best to quell his embarrassment at sneaking up on his peers. ¡®Adjutant Guard of the Golden Princess¡¯ was his official title, one that Renner had given him. It carefully avoided any political pit traps, and was a mastercraft in weasel wording comparable to ¡®Warrior-Captain¡¯ - there was no actual ¡®Guard of the Golden Princess¡¯ for him to be the adjutant of. It was almost never used outside of formal settings where the Princess was made to argue for his presence, but Climb used it now as a clear identification of who he was.

    ¡°What are you doing out here at this hour?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep sir.¡±

    ¡°So you came out here looking for extra duty?¡±

    The man snorted. Climb was now close enough to identify him as Knight Retha, an average-bodied man who was the head of the night-watch. His companion was Guard Alek, who was to Climb, nearly completely unremarkable.

    ¡°Yes sir. Anything I can do?¡±

    ¡°Not out here, no. A lot of men enjoying the night outside while it''s warm. If anything, Head-Knight Jelka needs your help in the palace. Go bother him.¡±

    Jelka was the defensive coordinator for the entire palace. Between that fact, Jelka¡¯s status as a minor noble, and Climb¡¯s position nearly outside the command chain, the idea that Jelka would ever so much as speak to him was absurd.

    As if he knows I exist. Gods, why am I so bitter?

    Climb¡¯s emotions were mixing into strange shades. He normally would never entertain such dark thoughts. He had tried deeply to temper himself and his whims, and he had almost entirely succeeded.

    ¡°Yes sir, good luck on the watch.¡±

    That nightmare really messed me up, didn''t it?

    Climb bowed, and departed towards the palace. Walking along a pathway that led to a larger entrance, he stopped with a start, remembering that he could look up. He lifted his gaze, scanning the sky. Climb swallowed. The sight stunned him.

    It''s beautiful.

    His eyes drifted across the starfield, spotting stars and constellations. The moon was not visible tonight, so the stars themselves were alone in lighting the sky. Had he known more about astronomy, he would have been able to identify the planets, and he silently chided himself for having neglected what now seemed crucial teachings. He lost himself in the heavens for a moment, suddenly feeling tiny and powerless in the scale of the firmament. Emotions brewed in his soul, a strange feeling filling his breast.

    I feel empty.

    Powerlessness at the sight of the cosmos turned into impotence in all aspects in his life. He felt useless. He was so distant from the Princess, from the woman who saved him. She had confided her father¡¯s words to her, that she would be getting married soon. That had sent him into turmoil beyond his ability to express.

    Why does she have to marry someone she doesn¡¯t want to? Why does she have to marry? Why can¡¯t I stay by her side? Why was I born a commoner?

    He began to cry.

    It¡¯s unfair. It¡¯s unfair! I care for her! I care for her so much! Why do I have to be thrown away?! Why do they have to hate me?! What have I done? Have I not served her and the King loyally? Am I not a dedicated warrior?! Why can¡¯t I be a knight? Why can¡¯t I be her knight?

    His face fell, slipping down to look at the ground.

    Why can¡¯t I be by her side forever?

    He was grateful for the moon¡¯s absence that night, it cast no light on the world that could illuminate his face. He dried his face, and braced himself. He continued towards the palace, but with less vigor than before. Approaching the gate guard, he didn¡¯t bother to identify himself, nor did he need to. He recognized Climb and let him through with a silent wave. Climb felt slightly guilty about not turning to the man to see who it was, but dismissed the thought. He had already granted himself permission to disregard his mental etiquette tonight.

    Climb walked along familiar corridors, he knew this way by heart. His mind drifted back to the nightmare.

    It¡¯s always on the streets I grew up on. I never have nightmares of the palace. Aren¡¯t I supposed to?

    Climb pondered this. In truth, the character of his nightmares had never changed. He didn¡¯t remember any from before Renner found him, those having melded into the haze of actual young-childhood happenings. No, the nightmares he had were in the time since he came to the palace. They were never of Renner being in danger, nor of daring courage on the field of battle; never some fear she would probably find cute if she heard it. They were always him back on the streets, the labyrinthine lattice of his childhood forever burned into his subconscious.

    I hate it so much. Why will I never be free of that place?

    Mongrels were a frequent antagonist in his dreams, alongside cats and rodents. It didn¡¯t help that he had encountered and been bitten by curs several times as a child. He couldn¡¯t reconcile such beasts with the gentle and pampered animals of the palace, choosing to embrace his dissonance, and never so much as interacting with the four-legged housekin. No, the only animals he was truly comfortable with were horses. This served him well as a warrior, and he was grateful for this.

    He passed a maid who, as always, side-eyed him. This was common behavior for the palace denizens, a look he had received many times before. He quelled his anger. He ascended up several back-flights of stairs, up two stories from the ground. Rounding the corner, he spotted the nightwatchman outside of Renner¡¯s room. Tonight it was Knight Gerheart. Gerheart himself was a member of Gazef¡¯s Warrior Troop, and although a full blooded knight, respected Climb as a result. Gazef was also a commoner, and those men that followed behind him in battle had abandoned all consideration of status as a determiner of respect. While Gazef was at the palace, as he was now, the troop supplemented the King¡¯s Royal Guard, relieving them of lesser duties of guarding the Second Prince and Third Princess. Spotting Climb, Gerheart cocked his head.

    ¡°Guard Climb, was I granted relief?¡±

    ¡°No. I just came by to check on Her Highness.¡±

    Gerheart raised an eyebrow, attempting to discern the cause behind Climb¡¯s arrival. Gerheart was himself, not fully human. Somewhere along his muddled bloodline was an elven ancestor, and although far less than Half-Elf, he still retained some features of his mixed descent. Besides slightly elongated ears and somewhat sharpened facial features, he possessed the remnant of a latent darkvision. This is how he identified Climb with ease, although he was not bearing a lightsource. Combine this with the Elven resistance to sleep, which unfortunately manifested in an inescapable insomnia, and it made Gerheart a perfect choice for night-watch. This made him a social pariah comparable to Climb, and although their interactions were rare and fleeting, they felt a sort of kinship.

    ¡°Oh? Why are you here? I¡¯ll have to report this to Captain Stronoff.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I just couldn¡¯t sleep.¡±

    ¡°So you came up here?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Look, could I stand guard with you?¡±

    Gerheart¡¯s face twisted into a smirk. He understood what Climb meant. Rumors of the Golden Princess having an unusually loyal bodyguard and the evidence in front of him coalesced on his face.

    ¡°Ah. Yes, that would be alright.¡±

    Gerheart stepped slightly to his right, and Climb stepped in tandem to fill the gap he created. They stood in parallel, guarding the Golden Princess.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (11)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 25]

    I suppose it''s time to get up.

    Renner was not one for lazy mornings, but she found it hard to rouse herself today. She had little conception of why, but she supposed it to be a random dip in the quality of her sleep. Still, she found her strength, and started her day.

    Let¡¯s do a peach colored dress today.

    Snatching the dress off the rack, she donned it and began to pamper herself. She had no regal obligations for the day, instead having decided to spend it fully tabulating the manpower necessary to efface the stain of Eight Fingers. This was a daunting task, and it in turn required her to actually get an estimate on the size of Eight Fingers.

    Of the sixteen strikes we¡¯ve conducted we¡¯ve counted on average twelve members in each band with a standard deviation of around four. Combine that with the known weekly capital black-market trade traffic densities, using a one to three rule for the ratio of support personnel we are encountering, a one to four for the traffic we¡¯re missing, and factoring population size ratios in¡­

    It took Renner a few minutes to work out the math. Sitting at her boudoir, she tapped her fingers with the beat of her computation, although more so from habit then need.

    ¡­Thirty-thousand, give or take twenty. That¡¯s at least the right order of magnitude. Still, it''s too wide of a range for comfort. I¡¯ll need to tighten it up, but there¡¯s little concrete data I can collect. Eight Fingers probably doesn¡¯t know its own size, and with good reason.

    This made Eight Fingers at least one five hundredth of the Kingdom¡¯s population, which to Renner, seemed optimistic. She walked out into the sitting room, heading for the door to the hall.

    We¡¯d only need a fraction of that manpower to absolutely shatter the grip they have on Re-Estize. Many of those people may not be accustomed to violence; the silent middlemen and smugglers of the Kingdom. At no point would they field forces to concentrate. Even so, I have nowhere near the amount of fighting-strength required.

    Turning the handle, she began to consider her sources for such a force.

    I¡¯ll obviously need Zanac too- ah!

    Climb¡¯s presence outside her room startled the Princess, causing her to visibly straighten. She very quickly felt it a welcome surprise, and began to swoon.

    ¡°Climb! I didn¡¯t know you were on guard duty last night.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t assigned.

    ¡°I-I wasn¡¯t, Your Highness.¡±

    He got up early and chose to guard me? He looks exhausted.

    Renner traced her eyes across his face, taking note of the bags under his eyes.

    He looks too exhausted. He¡¯s been up all night.

    ¡°Climb, have you been up all night?¡±

    Climb, despite his tiredness, went wide eyed. The other guard in front of her door burst out laughter.

    That¡¯s one of Gazef¡¯s men I think, the Elf-kin.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t sneak that past Her Highness, could you Climb?¡±

    His name is Gerhart. That insult is probably subtle enough to sneak past most. Gazef must not have spread his changed opinion of me. Most of his men still think I¡¯m a pretty face.

    ¡°Ha¡­ you really can¡¯t.¡±

    Something is wrong, he¡¯s not doing well. Maybe physically ill, but I wouldn¡¯t bet on it.

    ¡°Climb, are you ok? Come, let''s go see the court doctor.¡±

    Gerhart¡¯s eyebrow rose further, taken aback by the Princess¡¯s tenderness to her guard.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m not ill.¡±

    ¡°Climb¡­¡±

    You wouldn''t let illness stop you from doing your duties. It¡¯s endearing, but I don¡¯t want you to overexert yourself at this moment.

    ¡°Climb, I¡¯m ordering you relieved of your duties of the day, including training, acting as my bodyguard, and any duties given to you by Defensive Coordinator Jelka.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness-!¡±

    ¡°Your new orders are to accompany me to the castle physician. Knight Gerhart, please inform the rest of the royal guard and find the necessary replacement.¡±

    Gerhart bowed deeply, uttering a low affirmative breath, and began to walk away. Climb struggled to mount any objection to Renner¡¯s softly delivered razor-sharp words. He was again embarrassed.

    ¡°But Your Highness, I¡¯m not sick! I just trained too vigorously yesterday, and woke up in the middle of the night!¡±

    That¡¯s what worries me. I need to cut through this discussion.

    ¡°Are you fit for duty?¡±

    Climb blanched, and his face turned a deeper shade of red. Renner knew that he wasn¡¯t, both on physic and psychic fronts. He seemed stripped of everything.

    ¡°Climb, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Climb stayed silent, embroiled in a deep inner turmoil. His eyes shifted back and forth, and his jaw was visibly twitching.

    ¡°Climb, come inside.¡±

    Climb gave a weak nod, and Renner led him into her sitting room. Walking him over to the table, she signaled he should sit. Walking over to a small set of drawers in the wall of the room, she withdrew a few vials filled with various multicolored liquids. Walking back to Climb, she forced one into his palm and clasped his fingers around it.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Drink.¡±

    ¡°But your-¡±

    ¡°Drink.¡±

    He dutifully obeyed, forcing down what tasted like pure sugar. Renner sat beside him, making a fresh pot of tea. In a few minutes of silence, broken only by the hissing scream of a tea-pot, his face regained some vital color. By the time Renner had poured the pair of them a black tea, he seemed nearly restored.

    ¡°Climb, why were you up that late.¡±

    ¡°I had a nightmare.¡±

    He still experiences those? I thought those ended in his childhood. He must have started to hide them from me.

    It was a frequent occurrence when they slept together as children. She would feel him fit awake, and spend the next few minutes pondering and consoling his crying face by candlelight.

    ¡°I was on the streets again. It was raining, I was cold. A dog started to come after me. No one would help me. I slipped and fell in the mud, and felt it attack me. I was calling your name but it wouldn¡¯t come out.¡±

    How typical of him. To be haunted by the same sorts of disturbances all these years later.

    ¡°Climb. I¡¯m here now. Ok? I¡¯m here now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°What happened afterward?¡±

    ¡°I woke up, couldn¡¯t fall back asleep. I got up and tried to find night-duty, but I wasn¡¯t able to. So I just came up and helped Knight Gerhart guard your room.¡±

    She folded his free hand into hers. He faintly smiled. In her urgency, she had entered the room with Climb alone. There was no maid watching over them, nor any other sentry of the palace. She realized she had a scant and rare opportunity.

    I wonder if I could close the gap here. I won¡¯t get another chance for this in some time, perhaps¡­

    She leaned forward slowly, and pecked him on his left cheek. Perhaps it was his exhaustion, or his need, but Climb raised no objection, nor did he twitch away from her. When she pulled back, Climb nervously stared at her.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    Climb tripped over his words, his voice choking. His lips quivered as his eyes darted back and forth. She felt him shake, his hands quaking. After a moment, he seemed to find his resolve, looking back at her with a forlorn glimmer.

    ¡°Your eyes. They remind me of the night sky, Your Highness.¡±

    Eh?! Climb, that sounded romantic!

    Renner giggled a bit, his unexpected advance catching her off guard. She stumbled out of a half-baked question.

    ¡°In what respect?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re so radiant. So full of warmth. Pretty.¡±

    Renner felt her heart sink. She understood the full melancholic meaning behind his words.

    And distant. Unreachable. Beyond the vault of the heavens.

    ¡°I think the same things when I look into yours.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve always struck me as such.¡±

    He looks ready to cry.

    ¡°Climb, I have something to ask you.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I will need to get married soon. When that happens, and if I could make this possible, will you be willing to stay by my side?¡±

    ¡°Of course! Your Highness, I¡¯d go anywhere for you!¡±

    Renner smiled. She had known that, but it was still pleasant to hear him say.

    ¡°Good, that makes me very happy. Thank you, Climb. Finish your tea, we¡¯ll head to the court doctor after you''re done. Even if you aren¡¯t sickly, I still want him to look over your body. See if you¡¯ve overexerted yourself.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    Letting her eyes pass up and down his form, Renner felt herself slip into the depths of her mind.

    I love taking care of him. Doting on him is such a pleasant experience, the way his face brightens when I do something for him. The way he is so ashamed to require my help. It''s so cute. I think that¡¯s part of why I picked him in the first place. Still, I get the opportunity to dote on him so rarely.

    Climb had a tough constitution, and rarely got ill. This was something not uncommon for warriors who cultivated their bodies as he did. Renner herself was notorious for catching ailments in the fall, and found a minor - and until now humorous - envy in Climb¡¯s health.

    It¡¯s only happened thrice? No, four times, he was ill three years ago, in addition to those times in his childhood. Gods, I would love him to be ill sometime, to be bedridden. He would depend on me. Every drop of water he drinks and morsel of food he eats would be by my hand. It would be enjoyable. Deeply enjoyable.

    Although Climb did not notice, her gaze turned hungry.

    If only he could be ill! Exhausted and feverish. Sweating and shuddering. Maybe even delirious, quietly calling my name betwixt moans and chufs. His lips slightly spread apart, too weak to keep sealed. The thought of his chest rising slowly and unsteadily, obviously stripped bare to let the flow of his heat escape the body. He wouldn¡¯t be wearing anything under the covers, no? I could sit on the side of his bed and change out washlinins. Perhaps it would be the opposite, and he would have an overwhelming need for warmth. Imagine him clinging to me, not fully conscious of his actions. He would drag himself close to me, I would feel his shaking breath on my skin. How fun would that be. Yes, I desire that. I desire that greatly.

    Renner sipped her tea thoughtfully. Climb, oblivious to the violations Renner was inflicting upon him in her mind, decided to alleviate some of his shame at his previous impositions on the Princess.

    ¡°Thank you, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Eh? What for?¡±

    ¡°Taking care of me and for making me drink that tonic.¡±

    Ah if only I could more often. If only I could materialize my fantasies.

    ¡°I¡¯ll always take care of you Climb.¡±

    I wonder If I could make you sick. Actual diseases wouldn¡¯t be possible unfortunately. I have access neither to dark magics nor poisons. A conversation in which I ask for such from Lakyus would be comical. What a shame.

    Renner¡¯s eyes slipped to his sword, and in that moment she had a flash of brilliance.

    Injury would serve the same purpose, no? The field of battle is dangerous, and he could be wounded in an instant. Even if he wouldn¡¯t be under spell of delirium, he would still need my care and attention. It would need to be severe, something that couldn¡¯t simply be fixed with healing magics or alchemical concoction. Although, there are very few things that could do that, that wouldn¡¯t outright kill him.

    The drive for arcane understanding often found itself at the crux of medicine. Through the transformation of the mana of the natural world into words of power, incantations and prayers to the divine listeners above, or the wild backflows and slipshod elemental chaos of the five aspects, wounds both light and grievous could be sealed. Further, those could be rendered tactile manifestation and concentrated into liquid form, the alchemical field of potion making. As such, healing was an art accessible, albeit to those in high places. Renner had just given Climb one such potion, a restorative potion which fastened the body¡¯s stamina.

    There are still illnesses not yet in the domain of such rapid treatment; vast quantities of curses, Necrotic Burden, Fivefold Wastings, Kohorn¡¯s disease¡­ Resurrection sickness. Resurrection sickness would be perfect. I¡¯d just need to get him killed.

    Climb finished his tea, clearly not wanting to burden the princess any longer than he had.

    ¡°Climb, let¡¯s depart.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    Renner stood excitedly and was lost in a moment of daze as her head spun and vision slipped away. She attempted to catch herself, but not before Climb saw her fleeting crisis, and in-spite of his fatigue rushed to her side. Lo, he halted her fall, and righted her.

    ¡°Your highness, are you ok?

    ¡°Yes Climb, I was just a bit too swift in rising.¡±

    They both laughed at their sudden roll reversal, a moment of genuine warmth and comfort between the two of them.

    Yes, I¡¯ll simply get him killed on the field of battle!

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (12)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Lower Wind Month, Day 30]

    In an instant, the front door exploded. Its immolated innards sprayed a cone of shrapnel, shards of white hot wrought iron lacerating the torsos of the two guards who stood watch. Before the pair could realize they were soon to depart the realm of the living, a bolt of foul energy lanced betwixt the doomed men and skewered a third. She was standing behind a small set of iron bars, a coin-to-chip exchange booth she was manning. Nominally, the clientele would not expect her to be more than a pretty face, but Eight Fingers was cunning, and she was an equally competent fighter to the rest. It was thus that the Blue Roses breached the entrance to the gambling den in Re-Alberg.

    ¡°Oy Evileye, Laykus, good work!¡±

    Gagaran charged, leaping over the now alight corpses in the entrance way. It was a short hall, no more than a few meters long, and she kicked off the wall to her left, redirecting her momentum to send her pauldron-first into the next panicked goon. Knocking him to the ground, Gagaran found herself on the main floor. Screams and shouts filled the room as patrons abandoned their card games and onsight guards tried to make sense of the chaos of the last few seconds. The man Gagaran had trampled, already concussed, watched as what appeared to be a shard of the nocturn itself sliced open his midsection. The horror and blood loss were too much to bear, and he passed out as a second armored figure passed over him. Lakyus leveled her sword, and released a second dark burst, fouling another wall with the innards of what was now her third mark for the evening.

    Gagaran was falling behind, and with a low swing of her warhammer struck the last remaining combatant in the room and claimed her first for the evening. This flung him into the ceiling, his ragdolled body nearly knocking out a support beam. The terror among the customers was palpable, and perhaps it would have bothered lesser women, but the Blue Roses were no strangers to the screams of passerbys. They had no doubt that all those they had so killed had committed crimes beyond mercy. Eight Fingers was a vile enemy, and could be treated without remorse.

    Gagaran and Lakyus rushed into the next room, only to find it already cleared. Tia and Tina had simply disguised themselves as clientele, and had sat at a table losing a game of poker in bated anticipation for the violence that was to come. Far from being dazed by the spellburst, they had used it as a starting gun to fling kunais at all the targets they had identified. Laykus clocked an additional six dead.

    ¡°Fifteen seconds. We¡¯ve lost the element of surprise.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s voice rang in the heads of all four Blue Roses, product of communication magic that she had cast upon them. Her contribution had been the initial salvo of spellbombs, and now she circled the building, seeking to catch any foolish enough to escape at street level. Her proclamation was met with no shock. Eight Fingers fighters would now be able to rally, for they were competent warriors. The first of this counter attack was directed at Lakyus, her narrowly dodging a crossbow bolt that had slipped between her floating blades. They blocked the second and third, and Gagaran charged to the new shooters. An overhead swing caught one in the neck, bouncing his head off the door frame under which he stood. Tia vaulted over her, driving her knife through the eye socket of the crossbowman, somersaulting off of her kill to release another two Kunais at the feeling third. She clicked her tongue as she missed.

    They had fought their way to the backrooms of the establishment, and this would be far more difficult to fight through up till now. The corridors were thin, and Gagaran could not have stood abreast with any other member of the Blue Roses and fit. It was time for close quarters combat, and she elected to let Tia, Tina, and Lakyus handle the following engagement. She would watch the rear, making sure no stragglers would attempt to flank from this angle.

    ¡°Get the hell out of here!¡±

    With her yell, the last remaining of the gamblers hiding under card tables fled to the front entrance, desperate to avoid the death that had been so thickly laced in the air around them. Lakyus slipped past her, and quickly took position as vanguard. Rounding the corner, she swiftly cut down a knife wielding woman sprinting towards her. Lifting her gaze, her eyes widened as she saw the last scrap of a piece of parchment consuming itself in a blue flame. Too swift to physically react, her mind issued a mental command to her floating blades to interpose themselves between her and the imminent danger. As the fire consumed the last vestige of the scroll, the spell that had been inscribed on it forced its way into existence, a fireball shot at untraceable speed down the hallway. The floating blades absorbed the impact and saved Lakyus¡¯s life, and two of them fell to the ground slagged, along with most of the hallway around her. Had they been fighting in an open space, this would have not carried consequence, but this den was in the basement of a two story structure, and those were load bearing walls.

    Lakyus heard a sickening snap of the beam above her and in a second moment of instant judgment dove forward, pulling her legs into her torso fast enough to avoid them being crushed under the weight of debris.

    ¡°There was an explosion and a partial collapse. Report status.¡±

    A ghost of Evileye¡¯s words appeared in her ears, the fruit of a message spell. Looking back, Lakyus realized she was cut off.

    ¡°I¡¯m uninjured, cut off from the rest of the group. Will continue through the office space alone. Tell the rest to circle around and try and find another way in.¡±

    ¡°Affirmative.¡±

    Lakyus quickly returned an answer to Evileye, assuring her that she was ok. Evileye¡¯s voice in her head never switched from her cold monotone delivery. It was seemingly uncaring, and Lakyus knew not to be bothered by her battle-speak.

    I¡¯ll have to clear through the rest of this myself. I can¡¯t believe they were willing to use such an explosion in the basement! How suicidal are these bastards?

    ¡ª

    Evileye was lazily circling the building. She was bored. The collapse had caught her interest, but that quickly waned when she realized she needn¡¯t intervene. Her job was just to catch stragglers, and that was simply tedious. She was hovering two stories above the ground, casting her gaze around the building. It was a misty day, the sun not having the strength to crack the cloud cover and burn away the white sea permeating the ground. Her ears caught a clanging, the sound of boots striking metal.

    Oh? It¡¯s coming from under that sewer grate.

    She drifted over, rising to three stories off the ground and floating directly over the grate. This was in itself a luxury. Re-Alberg was a progressive township, if only for its proximity to the city states across the northern border. Trade had forced a degree of technological and civil competence onto Re-Alberg, and it possessed underground plumbing infrastructure. This was a rarity in the kingdom, and Evileye considered this idly. The grate popped open, and she spied a pair of Eight Fingers skulks doing their best to escape, fouled by the sewage they had just passed through.

    ¡°Acid-Arrow¡±

    A sliver of green solvent shot from the tip of her finger, striking the lead woman. The arcane substance splattered her face, splashing into her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her agonizing scream was blood curdling to what gawkers and onlookers had braved the street after hearing the breaching explosion, and many of them ran in fear. Her face liquifying, her grip on the ladder slackened and released, and she fell, taking her fellow woman with her. Evileye felt nothing but a hollow twinge of guilt at this end, but couldn¡¯t muster a true regret for her actions.

    I should finish them off.

    She descended, gently setting down on the ground. Crouching, she grabbed the sewer grate, and with strength exceeding what should have been possible for her size, lifted it easily.

    ¡°Greater Heat Metal.¡±

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    ¡°Maximize Magic - Psychic Torque.¡±

    The cover in her hand quickly heated, ascending from its nominal appearance to a low red glow, to a frightening and burning iridescence. At the same time, it began to twist, curling into a crude swirl. At this deformation, it was now thin enough to be dropped into the hole. Seemingly impervious to the heat, Evileye was satisfied with her work, and released the now white hot slug. Two seconds passed before the sickening echo of impact came out of the sewer-hole, swiftly followed by additional screams. The smells of burnt flesh, human waste, and the metallic tinge of alchemical reagents were carried up by some of the steam created.

    Disgusting.

    A door to her left was flung open, and a trio of fleeing enforcers burst out, trying their best to flee into the gloom.

    ¡°Scourge¡±

    ¡°Ice-bolt¡±

    ¡°Lesser Annihilation¡±

    Three more corpses fell upon the street. Evileye was starting to get a little hungry.

    ¡ª

    Lakyus slowly lifted herself off the ground. She looked down the hallway that the blast had shot forth from. It was a T-junction, and she found herself apprehensive.

    Someone activated that scroll and bolted. Why haven¡¯t they followed up with another attack? They must be waiting around one of those corners, waiting to unleash a second ambush. They probably have additional spell scrolls. Dammit.

    Lakyus moved slowly up the hallway, doing her best to stay silent. Between the chaos and creaking of the building, and whatever combat the rest of the group was entangled in, there was enough ambient noise to cover her advance. Now only a yard from the junction, she crouched into a waiting stance.

    Why not unleash the shadow beasts in Kilineiram? No, no I can¡¯t do that. But they¡¯ll kill the men around the corner, and end this fight before it begins. Gods what am I thinking? It¡¯ll be near impossible to imprison them once they¡¯re free. Who could guess at the damage they could do?

    Lakyus fought herself. Her blade Kilineiram had formed from the steady sublimation of negative energy. Thus had shadow demons, greedy for its power, been drawn forth to seize its glory. They had found themselves powerless in the face of its hunger, and against their panicked exertions had been dragged into the gemstone in its core, where they were now stuck. Lakyus had learned of this through the strenuous process of attunement, and now kept it a closely guarded secret. There was no record of the Black Knight ever wielding this power of Kilineiram, nor was there even a hint of its existence in the codex of his adventures. Lakyus, by her reckoning, was the only person alive who knew of this property of the blade, and kept it as a desperate and final defense. To her, to loose them now would not only squander them, but embarrass herself.

    She resolved herself to deal with this another way. Commanding two of her four floating blades, she leveled them in front of her. Readying herself, she lowered herself in a crouch, building explosive power in her calves.

    Three, two, one.

    She shot forward, and at the same time ordered the two blades to attack. This was a blind corner, so she had to dumb-fire both. The blades rocketing forward crossed paths and jetted down both the left and right sides of the junction. Running into the hallway, she hoped her blades had skewered the scroll-bearer. She hazarded a guess and emerged into the junction looking left. She guessed wrong, and the left-borne blade had embedded itself in the wall at the far end. Extraining her body as much as she could, she twitched her head right to catch a glimpse of two men; one of which was impaled, blood pouring out of his mouth. Gripped in his dexter hand was a second scroll, and the uninjured man to the left was desperately trying to grab one out of his soon-to-die compatriot¡¯s pouch. Lakyus ended his struggle with a third flying blade, severing his throat.

    Watching him slump to the ground, Lakyus felt a sharp and agonizing pain in her left forearm. To her shock, a crossbow bolt had embedded itself inside of her, and she felt her skin wet as hot blood spilled from the wound. Her fast reflexes saved her from a second bolt, interposing Kilineiram in time to deflect the second bolt.

    This was the bastard that got away the first time. I need to close this distance now!

    Lakyus dashed to the shooter, who was using some sort of tri-shot crossbow. Pulling the trigger, he shot the third and final loaded dart. He shot wide. Lakyus disappeared the five meter gap between, and by pinning him to the wall with Kilineiram made that the last shot he would ever make. Shooting her gaze to her right, she saw that the hallway ahead was clear, and started evaluating her arm. It was limp, and difficult to move. Lakyus began to feel woozy, vitality fonting from her wound. A mote of knowledge flashed in her brain, a latent boon of her God warning her of danger; something was moving through her body.

    That dart was poisoned

    She felt herself lose strength, and started to slip downward. Bracing herself against the wall she had just lodged her sword into, she tried but could not stop herself from falling downward

    This is bad.

    She hit the ground with a thud, her legs splayed out and her back against the wall. Her right hand still had some vigor, and she wrapped it around a symbol of water. Snapping the cord that held it in place, she brought it to her mouth with what little vitality she had remaining, and began to speak.

    ¡°He of the Hallowed Depths, I beg by the side of your waters to hear my supplications and to render me unto deliverance.¡±

    The loss of blood was starting to drag her consciousness, slowing her thoughts. Her mind felt like it was moving through sludge.

    ¡°He of the Steam and the Salt, render unto me your purity and banish all that you find baleful in the gale of gaze.

    Her blood purified the poison, burning away the taint in the light of the divine. She reached over and wrenched the bolt from her body, tossing it against the ground.

    ¡°He of the Still Mere, render unto me your aid and a flushing of my wounds.¡±

    Luminance spread from the crevice that the bolt had dug into her arm, the blood that had poured out and dried suddenly turned to water, falling against the ground.

    ¡°He of the Raincloud, render unto me a rejoining of the flesh and a union of vitalities anew.¡±

    Half consciously, she let her hand fall. An extreme warmth followed as her wound began to knit itself back together. Between her prayers for purification and healing, she had bought herself out of a foolish end. She sat there and pulled in a few desperate gasps, her breathing growing stronger with each cycle of air in and out of her lungs.

    ¡°He of the Clearwater, I thank you for the deliverance which you have given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until I find a fate of salt and sand.¡±

    That was a close call. Still, I need to move now. Reinforcements could arrive at any second.

    Lakyus used the last free floating blade to pull herself off the ground. She stood - itself a feat in its own right - but was sapped of much of her ability. She was subsumed in lethargy, the lost blood and remaining poison still taking their toll on her fighting ability. The flow of not blood, but water leaking from her wound began to bay, the hole in her forearm sealing. Still, she knew that to rest now would be a stupid and lethal mistake. She tried to tally the Eight Fingers casualties in her mind.

    Seven- no, eighteen dead. There can¡¯t be many left on sight, if they haven¡¯t fled already.

    She advanced slowly, methodically placing one foot after the other. This was less out of care and more out of need. She would not have been able to stand otherwise. She passed a set of three small offices, each of them empty. At the end of the hallway was a fourth door, closed. Mentally summoning her blades, she arrayed them aimed at the latch on the door.

    Even though this door is wooden, breaching the first was so much easier with Evileye¡¯s incantation. She possesses such raw power, or maybe I should call it refined power.

    She released the blades, all four striking simultaneously, nearly ripping the door from its hinges. There was one man inside, clearly surprised to see Lakyus shattering his defense so swiftly. Lakyus ran into the room, and in a critical blunder, stumbled on a fine carpet, losing her grip on Kilineiram.

    Shit!

    This was a near fatal error, and she caught herself with her torso on the one desk in the room, nearly knocking the wind out of her. The room was small, and guaranteed a close melee. The man stabbed at her with a dagger, Lakyus rolling out of the way and avoiding its tip. He stabbed a second time, this time in an overhead swing, Lakyus catching his wrist. He was strong, and pushed her down onto the desk, her back pressed against its finely polished surface. With his free hand, he punched her in the face, spilling more of her blood onto the papers scattered around the desk, her left arm too weak to block the strike.

    She kicked at his shins, and as he reeled from the pain pushed him off her. One-handed, she started to choke him, pressing him against the wall, and ordered her blades to loose themselves from the door. He realized what was happening, and desperately tried to stab at her. He missed. First one, then two, then the rest of the blades flew from the door, and the man had his side turned into a pin cushion. Slumping, he was dead.

    Lakyus breathed heavily, and cast her gaze to the desk. An inkwell had been knocked over, and the ichor it had contained mixed with her blood. Sitting on the page was a book, opened to an incomplete page.

    It looks like a ledger. He must have been working on it when we struck, and did not have the wherewithal to close it.

    She looked it over lazily at first, then more precisely as she realized what it contained. Flipping it around such that the lettering was rightside up to her, her eyes widened in shock.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (13)

    Hilma pulled a slow hit from her pipe. With a deep inward breath, she pulled the smoke into her mouth and lungs, savoring its taste. Some of the smoke curled upward into her sinuses, and her sense of scent was stimulated along with the whole of her chest.

    This has a nice upswing. Has a subtle spice to its body. I ought to get the flue-cured leaf more often.

    With this, she satisfied her temporary need for pipe-weed, and exhaled. She was the only person in the room smoking, although this was not an unusual affair. She sat at a nonagonal  table, each of the seats filled. With three exceptions, Hilma included, all wore a thick, deep gray robe. Two more lurked behind the man at the head, who himself was donned in crimson robes with an emblem of the Water God laid overtop. The room was lit with few candles, many of which had long since sagged in their candelabras and dripped precipitously onto the mahogany floor. This was the executive council of Eight Fingers.

    The man at the head of the table stood, and in a gravelly voice opened the session.

    ¡°Let it be known that the Eight Fingers have met again, the fist clenched in shadow to advance its goals.¡±

    In unison, the other five members in robes at the table responded in kind.

    ¡°Let it be known.¡±

    Hilma found these rituals childish, and refused to participate. Two others at the table felt similarly; Ampetif Doll, nicknamed Cocco Doll, head of the slavery division, and Zero, head of the security division. The former had refused to do so for the same reasons as Hilma, that being they found the fashion abhorrent and the whole thing rather silly, a boy¡¯s conception of a secret society. Zero did so on the basis that a robe would hinder his ability in unarmed combat, and he had a policy of remaining always battle-ready. Following the chant, and subsequent side-eyes, the man at the head opened with an agenda.

    ¡°We all know why we¡¯re having this gathering. In the last month, we¡¯ve had a total of sixteen related strikes across all divisions, the most recent of which was a strike on the whore and gambling house in Re-Alberg. From what Security Division Chief Zero has uncovered, this is likely the work of the Blue Roses. This has escalated to the point of unacceptable loss. It is almost undeniably likely that we have a mole. We need to root out and punish this turncoat. This meeting is for the soul purpose of finding and excising this cancer in our midst.¡±

    ¡°In other words, no one leaves till we have a head to roll.¡±

    Zero delivered his proclamation in a low and scalding tone. He was a mountain of muscle, bone, and sinew, achieving near total physical perfection. No one wanted to see it, but everyone in the room guessed he could go head to head with the Warrior-Captain of the kingdom, and if the cards were right, best him.

    ¡°I¡¯m already rolling heads big-man. I had my capo for the westlands kill two of his lieutenants. Further, I rid myself of a batch of recently acquired inventory that may have had a spy embedded. I¡¯m not willing to euthanize more of my boys, nor product without some light at the end of this tunnel. Compensation from the security division perhaps, for the failures that got us here.¡±

    Ah he¡¯s feeling particularly catty today.

    Cocco Doll, head of the slavery division provided a typically cutting retort. Still, asking for compensation was a characteristic absurdity, and in no way would be fulfilled by a now seething Zero. Noah Zweden, gambling head, decided to make his play.

    ¡°Forget lieutenants, I had one of my captains killed. That raid last night cost me a small fortune, not to mention the one a fortnight ago in E-Pespel. I¡¯d estimate around thirty standards in coinage alone, not to mention the actual value of the property itself. If we¡¯re talking compensation, I want recompense for that failure.¡±

    ¡°Noah, you can¡¯t possibly expect to safely keep that much cash on site safely. That¡¯s a foolish decision. This bantering is absurd.¡±

    The man pivoted in his seat, turning to Zero. This was Nerval Unruh, banking division head, and the oldest among those gathered.

    ¡°We at the banking division expect no compensation from security. These breaches were in no way your fault. We regard this issue as one that should be kept internal to divisions, and we advocate for an increased compartmentalization of information to prevent issues like this in the future.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s absurd! I have a score of men dead as a result of this! Security should have caught the mole by now. There is a reason we cut part of our profits to funding Six Arms, it¡¯s so they can deal with garbage like this before this comes up!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a childish opinion Noah.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me a damn boy!¡±

    The table quickly devolved into squabbling. Hilma didn¡¯t have the energy to engage, and simply pulled a few more puffs from her pipe. Zero, and the executive leader - who despite the efforts of his underlings, had remained frustratingly anonymous - also stayed silent, witnessing a predictable degeneration of order. Old grudges came out; accusations of maladherence or incompetence in the process of scourging the organization of its traitors. Hilma started to blow smoke rings, and slowly the table was dragged back into silence as conversations broke off, participants becoming spectators to her total indifference. Gawking, Nerval finally had the guts to speak for the rest of those present.

    ¡°Hilma, do you have something to say for yourself?¡±

    Oh if only I could say what was on my mind, Nerval.

    ¡°Do you know why I like being the head of narcotics?¡±

    ¡°Aside from dipping into your own supply?¡±

    Hilma chuckled at Cocco Doll¡¯s remark.

    ¡°No, it''s because I possess an astonishing amount of soft power. The vices you peddle take hold only on the mind, but mine take hold on the body.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re point being? Hilma, what the fuck have you done to root out this mole.¡±

    ¡°I strung up about a dozen of my own men, before realizing it was a foolish decision. But I see your point Nerval, you feel none of us in this room have taken adequate measures to purge our organization of this mess.¡±

    ¡°Yes I do, and I think its on divisional-¡±

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    ¡°Now now, let me finish. So I started to think about the time that I had killed the eleventh such that I was going about this all wrong. That I was using my hard power when I instead should be using my soft power. I don¡¯t find wetwork particularly pleasant. So I stepped back, and started to think. The Blue Roses, whatever we may think of them, are Adamantite ranked. They charge Adamantite rates. Whoever is paying them for this operation clearly has deep pockets. First I suspected it was a noble in our web who turned out of fear or a moral imperative, and I threatened to cut off a few at random from their supply if they couldn¡¯t admit who was buying their protection. They would have the money, and surely the connections to do as such. But then I realized, there''s another group in the Kingdom who could afford to hire them.¡±

    Zero¡¯s eyes began to burn, realizing what Hilma was about to say.

    ¡°Gentlemen, the mole is in this room.¡±

    Bated whispering ensued. Crime bred paranoia, and everyone had secretly suspected as much. Still, for Hilma to come out and say it openly meant she had a good idea of who was the traitor. Everyone began to wonder what the traitor would do when exposed. Violence was now imminent.

    ¡°So I started to place pressure on the nobles you associate with. You see, part of the success in my division, and my stellar profit these last few years has been entirely yielded from the connections I made with your marks. Simply put, many of the people you all associate with are hooked on my product.¡±

    It¡¯s a shame to have to play my hand like that, but it¡¯s a worthwhile expense for what is next.

    ¡°Suffice it to say, I got someone to talk. Count Garlen was so uniquely desperate for Black Dust he gave up the whole game, Nerval.¡±

    ¡°What!?¡±

    Nerval sprung from his chair, knowing the accusations levied against him would mean a painful undoing. Count Garlen was one of his closest associates, and he helped to launder coinage and allow it to be used above-board.

    ¡°He said you were concerned with issues of legacy, and that you knew that as head of the banking division, you would have no chance of a quiet retirement. Granted, for you to go to the Adventurers Guild, far be it the Blue Roses, and proclaim yourself a divisional head would be absurd and dangerous. So you got Count Garlen to act as a middleman. He met with the Blue Roses below the table, and financed their activities. Any payment you gave to him to funnel to the Blue roses on this basis would simply be seen as typical bribes subject to minor inflation. It was quite clever, actually. Still, if we dig into your financial records we¡¯ll see that you were paying platinum weights on a near weekly basis to him.¡±

    This was mostly lies, of course. Hilma had not the faintest clue who the mole was, nor did she care much to find out. Her reasons were purely mercenary; the banking division was her main rival, the most financially lucrative division after herself. Narcotics had grown unbelievably in the last few years, and although her and Nerval had developed close relations (doing her transactions through his division and letting him take a cut), this was merely an application of the principle of keeping your foes close. She had actually hooked Garlen on drugs some time ago, and had indeed threatened to cut him off if he did not cooperate. He was not party to a conspiracy with Nerval, but Hilma had so enthralled him in the clutches of Black Dust that he would corroborate her story without fail.

    ¡°He said you handed over all the intelligence you had on the rest of the organization to the Blue Roses, as well as robbing enough of your own coffers to pay them for the next few months. So, I do suppose you¡¯ll take one victory. You¡¯ll continue to fuck the rest of us over long after you¡¯re dead.¡±

    That¡¯ll explain why attacks continue to happen even after we eliminate the mole. Obviously, someone high in the organization, no lower than a capo is providing the info to Lakyus and company. Hopefully they¡¯ll use this as an opportunity to lie low and get attacks off my back for a time.

    Nerval was too shocked to stammer a reply. Far from the typical reactions of anger and disgust at such a betrayal, those who were showing emotions were smiling, feeling relieved at having a problem solved for them; Zero¡¯s was the widest. He stood, and casually rounded the table. Nerval was struggling desperately to talk, but nothing aside from incomprehensible breaths were escaping his lips. Zero grabbed the back of his head, and dragged him out of the room. Between the screams, Hilma filled her lungs with smoke again.

    This is pure profit. What¡¯s not to love?

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 2]

    A series of raps on her snapped Renner from her mid-afternoon daydreams. Wasting no time, Renner bid the visitor in.

    ¡°Come in!¡±

    The palace mail carrier, Elias Brendel, stepped into the room. This was - outside of Climb, Lakyus, and the Blue Roses - Renner¡¯s favorite person. This was the summation of many things, but the largest boon for him in her mind was the fact that he brought her information, and she didn¡¯t have to lift a finger to get it. Seeing him, she put on every facet of charm she knew.

    ¡°Ah, Elias! It bodes well to see you! How are you?¡±

    ¡°I am well, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Good, good. Pray tell, do you have something for me?¡±

    His answer would be without doubt yes. Elias in no way had the ability to join nobility on unannounced social calls, far less the Third Princess herself. The only reason he would come into her sitting room would be to give her mail. This question was deliberately useless, undeniably so, one of Renner¡¯s many small performances.

    ¡°Yes, a letter for you!¡±

    It¡¯s key that everyone outside of Climb, the Blue Roses, and now potentially Gazef, sees me as a dullard. A perception of stupidity is a shield. I need Elias to drop his guard around me.

    ¡°Thank you! Say, have you seen my brother today? I wanted to visit him.¡±

    ¡°His Highness the Crown Prince was having a meeting with some person I hadn¡¯t seen before. He seemed agitated. I¡¯m sure it would cheer him up if you visited.¡±

    Thank you Elias, I can play you so well. I¡¯m sure Barbro would hate to see me right now. After all, I¡¯m the one who¡¯s dismantled his schemes.

    Elias would not make that mistake with anyone else. Palace Mail Carrier was a prestigious position, and Elias was thus a guarded and careful man. The information he carried was beyond valuable, and his training and armament reflected that. He carried a sword at all times, constantly switching his routes through the palace. Had most asked him that same question, he would have declined to answer. However, in his eyes, the Golden Princess was harmless. She was nothing but a pretty face with an empty head, and he clearly adored her for it. There was no harm in revealing to the Fifth Treasure of the Kingdom the doings of her eldest brother. Thus, their opinions of each other were mirrored.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to later! Thank you for the letter Elias.¡±

    ¡°Of course your highness.¡±

    He handed her the letter, and her eyes lit up as she saw it was from Lakyus.

    ¡°Eh? I wonder what tales she has for me this time. Thank you Elias. Do you have time to stay for tea?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately not your highness, I have my duties to attend too.¡±

    ¡°Ah, a shame. Well I bid you well!¡±

    ¡°I do so in kind, your highness.¡±

    He departed the room, leaving Renner alone. Retrieving a small letter opener from a stationary set she had nearby, she sliced the envelope open and began to read.

    ¡°To the Golden Princess, Third Daughter of Ramposa III - ¡± She used the code-phrase form of my title.

    Her and the Blue Roses had a need for covert communication. Renner had devised an ingenious system of in-text cypher that used the date as a rotating key that scrambled. Renner¡¯s calculations indicated that it would be de-facto uncrackable, with nearly four billion billion possible scrambles of the alphabet. In addition to it being unbreakable, it had proven unusable for the Blue Roses. Renner, disappointed, went back and created a much less flexible system of code phrases, mostly centered around the arrangement of the titles in her name. This particular combination was hallmarked by the upper case ¡°D¡± in daughter, indicating that the letter encoded a meeting place.

    She wants to meet outside the palace. They must have acquired something which should be kept in shadow. No, they¡¯re afraid that what they¡¯re going to tell me will bode danger. Interesting.

    Renner disregarded the rest of the letter, reading it casually but with no close notice. It was simply girls talk, although Lakyus was laughably bad at faking such conversation.

    Ah, I wonder what she learned?

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (14)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 4]

    The buzz and hums of insects filled the night. Cart wheels collided with the stones below, producing thuds. Low voices talked, remarking on the still lurking heat of the day. It was a beautiful sound, all the mirth and joy of the summer umbra elevating into a symphony. Renner found it far more palatable euphonia than the one she had just left.

    How unbearable.

    She and Lakyus had needed a cover to meet, so they elected upon a play. It was a comedy, a story meant to be popular among nobles. A story of courtship with a blundering lead pursuing two women and failing in increasingly humorous ways. It was now thankfully finished, and Renner and Lakyus were now idling outside, waiting for their driver to rouse their horses. He was a relatively new servant, and Renner mused that as the cause for his tardiness.

    I¡¯ve been run thin; faking muted laughter the last few hours. Lakyus seemed to enjoy it, but her mind is elsewhere. Gods, how terribly tedious this was. I never want to see one of these again.

    A few yells indicated it was time to depart from the theater, as the cart driver finally arrived. She introspected on this, departing the theater entranceway with Lakyus. Renner was not averse to walking to the theater, but the demand for secrecy had imposed such a method of transport upon her and Lakyus. It was an enclosed space that would be difficult for anyone but the most adept of skulks to spy upon.

    Perfect for the discussion of ruinous things. Lakyus, what did you bring me?

    The pair alighted the steps of the carriage, and slipped inside. Resting, they faced opposite each other. They stayed silent for a time, waiting for their driver to find an opportunity to depart. The noise of its motion was a necessary caution to begin spilling intrigues. A jerk of horses told them it was time.

    ¡°Lakyus. What mandated this?¡±

    ¡°Five nights ago we hit the den in Re-Alberg.¡±

    ¡°The one we pieced together from the interrogation testimony?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It was crawling with members of the gambling division, as well as a few¡­ uh, personal-slaves who we believe may have been owned by the gambling division.¡±

    That¡¯s more interdivisional cooperation than I expected. I¡¯ll need to adjust estimates.

    ¡°A joint effort?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but that''s not the point. Renner, we got something big.¡±

    ¡°Tell me.¡±

    ¡°In addition to the gambling hall, there was a small cluster of offices in the back. While I was clearing them, I got into a melee with a man who was defending his room.¡±

    ¡°How harrowing.¡±

    ¡°I killed him¡­ with a thinner margin than I would like to admit. Renner, I think he was a Captain.¡±

    ¡°Gods, what a boon.¡±

    What luck we¡¯ve had recently. Gods, a captain! That¡¯s-

    ¡°Yes, I was happy about it.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Still, why are we meeting here? You could have told me that in the palace.¡±

    ¡°Because we found something.¡±

    Lakyus set her hand under the seat next to her, and lifted it. Secret compartments were the business of royalty, and this carriage was no exception. She withdrew a locked box, two spans across. Holding it gingerly, rather than inserting a key, brought it near her mouth.

    ¡°Azure.¡±

    Following the passphrase, a click indicated the latch slacked, the lid shuddering ajar. Lakyus slowly torqued the lid upward. Reaching in, she retrieved a large book, and presented it to Renner. She felt her pulse pound as she opened.

    ¡°Lakyus, is this what I think it is?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Transaction records. Transaction records for the entire division. No, there are records in here from slavery. This is incredible.

    Renner began to flip through it unsteadily, then frantically. It became difficult to suppress her excitement. She wanted to jump for joy, to shout to the heavens. Unbridled happiness over brimmed in her soul, washing away all the agonies and tepidities of the last month.

    This is progress, significant progress!

    ¡°Lakyus, this is-¡±

    ¡°Horrible. It¡¯s horrible.¡±

    Eh?

    Renner looked up from the ledger to see a solemn and distraught look on Lakyus¡¯s face.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s downright horrifying. To think Eight Fingers is that large, is that profitable. That¡¯s only two months worth of transactions, and yet it fills that large of a tome. To think of how many total destructions are recorded in that book. How many ruins bestowed upon innocents. Families bankrupted. People killed. Your Highness- Renner, I did not want to ask because I was afraid to know; but now the question burns me. How large is Eight Fingers?¡±

    Renner needed a moment to recover. In truth, she had completely failed to generate any of the sympathy in her heart that Lakyus had just spoken.

    Ah. I suppose that would have been the normal reaction. I got too excited, and I let it overwhelm me. Of course Lakyus would find this tragic. Heart wrenching even. Even though she¡¯s a hardened adventurer, the magnitude of these records were too much for her to bear. Pity.

    Renner felt nothing. She could rouse no anguish for the citizens of the Kingdom, nor desired to place herself in their suffering. She was simply incapable of such a thing. Heartbreak at the behest of another''s pain was simply another emotion she had learned to fake. Actress would be a generous term for what she was. She was a deceiver.

    Which voice to put on? Perhaps a demure one.

    ¡°Thirty-thousand, at least.¡±

    ¡°Gods above.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps two legions of fighting men, although they could never bring them to bear at once. Still, their flesh is worth more than the men of the Kingdom. Many are hardened fighters, and much of the peasantry can¡¯t say the same thing.¡±

    Lakyus buried her head in her hands. She was not weeping, but was caught in an internal struggle. Renner, long adept at such performance, forced a few tears from her eyes. Lowering her head, she continued to devour the transaction records. As she was about to flip the current page, her mind snagged on something.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    This says ¡°payment delivered to Cescsu¡±. Strange name, and no last name is listed. Why does that seem familiar? Could that be a fake name? Oh, oh my Gods. There¡¯s no chance that it¡¯s-

    Renner began to flip back and forth rapidly, searching for the name Cescsu. She found several more transactions, all listed to him. The most recent of these was exactly eighteen days ago, with strict sixteen day gaps all the way till the end of the record. Her mind spun faster.

    It says the payments were delivered to him in the capital. There¡¯s no chance-

    Renner froze. While her outer face remained wet, tears streaming gently down it, her inner self twisted into a maniacal visage.

    These records are only up till the 29th, but following that sixteen day pattern, that means that ¡°Cescsu¡± would have received a payment on the second. ¡°Cescsu¡± is a scramble, each vowel and consonant forward one position. The name it encodes is Barbro. Barbro was angry two days ago at a messenger. Barbro is getting payments from Eight Fingers.

    Elation. Rapture beyond comprehension. Renner was subsumed in this flood of emotion.

    There¡¯s no reason not to share this with Lakyus now. I need to make sure I develop an enmity between the Blue Roses and Barbro. This is a useful tool. What fiendish luck has gripped me this day?

    ¡ª

    ¡°Lakyus.¡±

    She¡¯s distraught. I can only imagine what it¡¯s like being a princess and knowing these horrible things are happening to her charges.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I need some time to read through this, to confirm, but I have a horrid suspicion. I think Barbro is getting payment from Eight Fingers.¡±

    ¡°What?! The Crown Prince?¡±

    Lakyus was stunned.

    I have no love for the Crown Prince, but to think he¡¯s engaging in treason! That¡¯s another matter entirely. Still, how did she divine that by reading through it? Evileye and I read through it in detail and we couldn''t find anything relating to Barbro?

    ¡°H-how can you tell?¡±

    ¡°His name is encoded via a split-row imperial substitution cipher. They just use each consonant and vowel one position ahead. Look.¡±

    Renner shifted in her seat, bringing the ledger near Lakyus. She ran her fingers along a set of entries.

    ¡°The name here, Cescsu. Payments are listed as being delivered in the capital, but with one delivered out in E-Rantel a month ago. It''s a simple cipher. Honestly it¡¯s a mistake for them to have done this like this. They should have just given him a codename. Or¡­¡±

    She figured that out in the last few minutes? I thought she was just flipping through it, not reading it in such detail. How did she even make that connection? Gods, she¡¯s sharp.

    Renner paused, her finger stopped on an entry. Lakyus thought she might have been reading it, but her eyes were darting around, indicating she was merely lost in thought.

    ¡°Lakyus. Tell me in detail how you found this ledger.¡±

    ¡°Huh? I just found it on the desk of the Captain I killed.¡±

    ¡°Just lying on his desk?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think he was working on it and didn¡¯t have time to hide it when we burst in.¡±

    Renner fanned the pages forward. She overshot, going into the blank pages that had yet to be filled inked with the fruits of suffering. Slowly reversing, Renner finally landed on the page that was still being worked when Lakyus had burst in. It had her blood on it, stains that had been made when he had contused her. Lakyus rubbed her jaw at the memory, the wound still emitting a dull pain to her prods.

    ¡°Lakyus, how well guarded was the site?¡±

    She¡¯s obviously divining some morsel of knowledge from this. It¡¯s just going to be easier to answer her questions and get an answer from her afterwards as to what she¡¯s thinking.

    ¡°It was under heavier protection than we had expected. We had claimed around a score of Eight Fingers men.¡±

    ¡°Enough for the protection of a Captain?¡±

    ¡°...That¡¯s hard to say. We don¡¯t have much experience hunting marks like that. Further, that can change between divisions and so forth.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Yes, sorry I apologize. Let me rephrase. Do you think it reasonable that a ledger for the transactions of an entire branch of the syndicate would end up in a town in Re-Alberg, being worked on by a single captain? That such a record would only be under the guard of a platoon of men?¡±

    Wait. What is she saying? Does she think that this was leaked intentionally?

    ¡°Your Highness, are you saying what I think you are?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I think there''s a distinct possibility they handed this over to us willingly.¡±

    Lakyus leaned back, and for the second time this night rubbed her head in consternation. Removing her hands from her face, she stared aimlessly for a few seconds, trying to formulate a response. It took some time, but she drew forth the appropriate feelings within herself and crafted them into words.

    ¡°No, they didn¡¯t.¡±

    Renner cocked her head, clearly intrigued by Lakyus¡¯s pushback.

    ¡°Eh? Why?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, that raid was rough. They fought hard. Harder than I¡¯ve seen them fight before. I mentioned it was a tight melee, but they were using area-destruction spells at close range. I was nearly caught in a roof collapse when one loosed a fireball at me.¡±

    ¡°...Haunting.¡±

    ¡°It was close. Had I moved half a second later, I may not have been here to have this conversation. One blindingly charged me, knife in hand, directly onto my blade. I think that was a base they had no intention of losing.¡±

    ¡°But to leave such a valuable item in such a place-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking this. It should have been under heavier guard. But had I been in charge of the Gambling Division, I wouldn¡¯t have thought the defensive complement there was over-light. Renner, I don¡¯t mean this to be humble, but as truth. Our enemies are not as smart as you are. Eight Fingers does not think like you do. Our enemies will make mistakes like this. You need to exploit them.¡±

    Silence hung in the cabin, the only noise being the clacks of horse hooves and wagon wheels upon the ground. Renner did not speak, and simply turned to look out the window. Lakyus thought for a moment she caught a glint of melancholy in Renner eyes, but it was gone too quickly for her to have accepted as reality

    ¡°...Yes, you¡¯re right. Sorry Lakyus. Sometimes I fall into a pit of conspiracy. It can be difficult for me to see things otherwise.¡±

    Her intelligence is a gift. A major ally for us in this war. But, I wonder for her sometimes. Is it a burden for her?

    ¡ª

    A stupid mistake. I guess it¡¯s true. How utterly depressing.

    Renner most of her joy sap out of her. She imagined those feelings seeping into the wood, and dripping out onto the road below, where they would be wicked and split among the pores of the stone below. She imagined it seeping into the ground, soaking the soil, and rejoining the rest of the world in its cycles of nature. She was unable to hold onto victories like this, losing them in the wind and the rain. Loneliness gripped her.

    I suppose it''s a foolish fantasy. To think, no, hope that someone competent would be at the head of Eight Fingers. Someone intelligent. Someone who could think like me. It¡¯s a cruelty.

    ¡°Your Highness. Something lighter to discuss.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°We completed Climb¡¯s armor. We¡¯ll have it shipped to the palace in a few days.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s wonderful! Thank you Lakyus. I¡¯ll have payment proper for you soon.¡±

    ¡°Again, like we discussed, no payment.¡±

    Renner gave a small pout. It was necessary humor for Lakyus, whose mind had been caught in turmoil and anxiety surrounding Eight Fingers, and she gave a polite laugh.

    ¡°Let me do something nice for you. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s provided us with target lists and locations in such detail that we could not have dreamed of. I could have provided you with half of that ledger and you could still devise everything you¡¯ve done today just the same. You¡¯re the backbone of this entire war.¡±

    Renner blushed, admitting a simple defeat in the realm of courtesy.

    ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t even have a proper gift picked out for your birthday. Gods, I can¡¯t fathom that you¡¯re only turning sixteen.¡±

    That was itself only three days away. Renner had, in typical fashion, forgotten to give it much thought. Despite her regal bearing, she didn¡¯t desire many material things. Her physical needs were already completely accounted for, and as a child she had no shortage of pastimes and toys, although she found little pleasure in their use. At most, she asked for exotic teas.

    ¡°The armor is a gift enough. Thank you Lakyus.¡±

    Lakyus raised an eyebrow at that, pondering the true depth of Renner¡¯s relationship with her bodyguard. Lakyus always knew Renner had a fancy for him, but it was still humorous to see young love in action. Renner feigned embarrassment and gave a shrug.

    Lakyus, I value you.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done so much work for the Kingdom, Lakyus. Please accept my thanks, both in word and coin. Without your heroics, none of this would have been possible.

    Lakyus simply smiled, and taking Renner¡¯s hand, kissed it in response.

 Movement I: Joy in Disphony (15)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 7]

    This is going to be nigh unbearable.

    ¡°It is my great honor to announce the entrance of Her Highness, the Third Princess, the Golden Princess, the Fifth Treasure of the Kingdom, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself.¡±

    Father, a crier? Why? What an embarrassment. Even holding this ball.

    Her chagrin at her father¡¯s actions were part way born from the typical teenage cringes at being thrust into the limelight, but primarily from the actual political setback that she recognized this as.

    This event will provide the primest of opportunities for people to mock me. Sixteen and unwed is already a derision. New wordsmith will come tonight, fresh hells of humor cum cruelty. Ah, what a pain.

    Renner looked at the crowd, and saw it was blessedly average. Too many people had attended for Noble Faction jesters to sincerely make the argument that her birthday was a picayune coming. This did not entirely abate her anxieties, and she wondered what the night would be like.

    Ah. Father intends this as pressure. The size of this event is nominally to inspire offers of marriage. Others will perceive this as a ploy to court suitors, who will seek the King for such matters. However, since he has granted me agency in this decision, this is to allow me to inspect the crop.

    Renner flitted through the ballroom for a few moments, seeking her father. Upon seeing Rampossa entertaining one of Blumrush¡¯s men, she confirmed her suspicion.

    People are speaking to him as if he¡¯s the one to be bargaining with. I doubt anyone will doubt the true nature of this arrangement.

    ¡ª

    Renner was on her twentieth introduction of the night. Having been caught in the inane conversation of highbloods, she was deep in her persona as princess.

    ¡°Eh? So he took the Rose Laurel? What an impressive bout!¡±

    Why yes, I do care about the results of the Tournament held in Re-Pepsel. Please tell me more. Gods, this is brainless.

    ¡°Yes, he did. I¡¯m so proud of him. He truly brings honor to our name.¡±

    Renner was speaking to Countess Heyla Bornbrook, a noble whose demesne wound along the eastern coast. She was speaking of the accomplishments of her first son, Grant the Fourth. Renner had not bothered to force a recollection of his full name, although she was perfectly capable of doing so, she felt no need.

    Query, why do you say ¡°our name¡±? Isn¡¯t it your husband¡¯s? Didn¡¯t you lose your name to him when you married? Isn¡¯t that tantamount to losing part of your identity? Horrid.

    ¡°Will Lord Grant the Fourth come to the capital? I would very much like to see a performance of his at the Valencia Joust.¡±

    No, I suppose our birth names are hereditary too. The family name passes down through men, and indeed a generational name is not chosen until the firstborn male crowns his way into the world. Even then, everything else about a person is decided before their birth. My name; honorable, regal, first, generational, last were all decided long in advance of my coming. No, we choose nothing of our identity. How utterly fatalistic.

    ¡°Unfortunately not, although he will attend the next such Equinox bout.¡±

    Re-Estize was less religious than many of its neighbors, and this was a manifestation of that reality. One of the tired points thrown between diplomats between the Kingdom and the Theocracy, or for that matter the Roble Holy Kingdom was these lunar celebrations. The Six Scriptures considered such astrologic celebrations such as the passing of the Equinoxes as nature worship and ergo heretical, and the literalists of both nations frequently sent stern letters to Re-Estize on this basis. The nobility of Re-Estize was simply uninterested in such worship. The four Gods kept from the faith of the Six - for Alah Alaf and Surshana were declared to be wild fantasies of Slane - were blended with and muted by the culture of the country, and while many accepted the existence of them as fact, it was nearly irrelevant. Renner thought of that now, her mind clawing for any shred of stimulation.

    The Empire is similarly apathetic, although the vast range of cultures under its rule necessitate such a lenient approach for effective rule. This has been a conscious choice of its statesmen for the last few generations, not like the simple dismissal of the church as we have done. It is odd to me that Slane has chosen to support Baharuth. It would figure they would be demanding their pound of flesh from the people who actively brew such apostate faith¡¯s. Is Re-Estize truly the greater iconoclast?

    Renner was starting to get terribly bored, her mind ebbing into even wilder tangents then she would typically indulge. In contrast, her performance was mithrilclad. She had considered attempting acting as a pastime but had relented without any materialization of such a thought. It would be difficult to not be convincing in her roles, and that may have led viewers to doubt her visage as Princess. Renner dropped the matter in her mind, and she let herself become distracted.

    ¡°Sister, pining for the next Lord Bornbrook?¡±

    Ah I was wondering when you would work your way out of the pond scum.

    Turning, Renner saw her brother Zanac. He was stouter than Renner, but despite that still exceeded her bodyweight by several stone. His form was corpulent by the standards of Re-Estize, and judging by the specs of foodstuff left on his beardless face, he was by every means a glutton. Renner giggled, deflecting a modicum of tension left in the wake of Zanac¡¯s prod.

    ¡°Eh? No, I just get so excited at jousts. They¡¯re thrilling to me! Every pass leaves me at the edge of my seat. What a sport it must be to contend in.¡±

    ¡°Ah but how unladylike? I see you¡¯ve been spending time with Lady Aindra. Be careful sister, don¡¯t let you fill her head with stories of adventure.¡±

    ¡°Her stories are thrilling too. She really ought to commit them to paper oneday.¡±

    Zanac clicked his tongue, his sister refusing to engage in any of the bait he left dangling out for her. A typical occurrence, but he had so mocked her now in the hopes to draw out a reaction, banking on the social exhaustion of the ball. With two such jabs at her, he committed himself to extrication. Countess Bornbrook stood silently, interested and entertained by the sibling squabbles presented thus.

    ¡°You don¡¯t jest? Well, I suppose that''s one way to spend your time. Still, trying to convince those brutes to write anything seems fruitless.¡±

    Relative to the rest of my family, you count as my favorite. You at least are capable of stringing together an insult, and I¡¯m sure you have your own schemes.

    ¡°Ah, well hopefully they¡¯ll do so one day. It would make the talk of the Kingdom.¡±

    Renner unnerved Zanac. He was by her reckoning the most intelligent of her family, and the peaks of his cognition were in some ways penultimate only to her, and perhaps Reaven. He had been the only of her siblings to glimpse what she was. Renner only began to hide herself at age five, partly feeling satiated by Climb, but also in recognition of her role as a Third Princess. For the then eleven year old Zanac, he watched her sister metamorphosize over the course of two months. She gained many social skills in that time, and he had spied on her through doorholes, trying to grasp the flux in her being. In a formative moment for him, Zanac caught her practicing facial expression; it was a sheer and all encompassing horror. By the end of that period, her disguise was complete, and all those adults who surrounded her felt fine in their surety that her words of things nominally incomprehensible to a child were simply a phase, and they forgot her strangeness.

    If only you knew what I have planned for you brother. I¡¯m going to plant you on the throne. How wonderful it will be to have a competent king. Father thinks so little of you, just a pig that fattens itself. I don¡¯t disagree that you¡¯re a pig, left to devour all that surrounds you. But pigs are intelligent in their consumption, and you my brother are a prize swine.

    ¡°Yes, well, I bid you well.¡±

    Perhaps you would wear your fear less obviously if you knew what I was doing in your favor. No, perhaps that would inspire you to greater terror. Ah, it''s refreshing to see you squirm.

    ¡°You too brother.¡±

    ¡ª

    Renner¡¯s feet were beginning to hurt. The ball had now been percessing for around two hours, enough to trigger the instinct of exhaustion in many. Renner had been blessed with that constitution in stature known only to women whose shoes were in themselves endurance tests, and thus dutifully continued to accept dances and greet barons, counts, and marquis. Although wont to such pains, she still desired relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she counted another coming to speak with her.

    ¡°Golden Princess Renner, a jubilant birthday to you.¡±

    The man bowed. He was wiry, with a thick though manicured black head of hair. He was sharply dressed, although in garb foreign to the Kingdom.

    ¡°Ah, Ambassador Mercat. It is a pleasure to meet you here.¡±

    Ah El-Nix, to think you would send Lucius Argarius to such a minor event. Surely you know the trouble this will stir?

    Renner gave her typical warm delivery, although with more intentional tonality than before. This was the ambassador from Baharurth. Despite their frequent war, the Kingdom and Empire maintained shells of diplomatic corps in each other''s capital. So frequent came the rolls of iron dice that the diplomats simply stopped exiting the country even when at war, viewing it more as an unnecessary inconvenience. Thus, a person like Lucius Argarius Mercat was tireless and enduring, and he now bowed to Renner.

    ¡°His Imperial Highness has thought it necessary to provide a gift for the Golden Princess. Thus I have come to present it.¡±

    You¡¯re sending your head ambassador for such a matter, not simply a counselor? Oh Jircniv what trouble you¡¯ve had will to make. Lucius clearly doesn¡¯t see this as important. Are you willing to earn the chagrin of your corp on such a matter like this? I suppose you have the luxury of such inettiquetes as this, the blood on your hands is effective at that purpose. Ah, and he seems so content to address me by my title. Let me return the favor.

    ¡°Emperor El-Nix has provided me with a gift? How splendid, please extend my thanks to him.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    Their interaction had already drawn onlookers, and the noise of the ballroom fell several orders of magnitude as people watched Renner and Lucius diligently. Lucius was a hated man, as would any tool of Baharuth be in Re-Estize. Renner was careful, and intentionally let slip a cooler timbre. Lucius, impervious to their stares, snapped his fingers in a stereotypically imperial gesture, summoning an assistant who was actually bearing the gift.

    This is delicate. Is this a test Jircniv?

    The assistant, who was himself overly young for such a role, knelt and presented a package to Lucius, who gently unwrapped the bow, and opened the lid. Inside was a small handbook tied to a letter with a piece of gilded twine. He inspected the book for a moment, before turning to Renner.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Are you going to try to hand that to me directly? Daring.

    The air drew down into a suffocating quiet. Whispered conversations tapered off as the events unfolding in front of their eyes smothered the room. One set of footsteps could be heard, and Head-Knight Jelka advanced towards Lucius and Renner.

    Jelka, you¡¯re a shrewd man. Thank you for this interjection. Still, why were you at my father''s side and not Gazef? He must have taken a sudden absence. Trouble at the border? Concerning I haven''t heard of this.

    ¡°If you would please hand that to me, Ambassador.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±

    Jelka received the entwined gifts, and began to interrogate their contents. Snapping the twine with the sharpened part of his gauntlet, he twirled the letter in his hands, breaking the seal, although not opening it to read its contents.

    Checking for spellbombs inscribed in the wax, presumably on the book too. This whole performance is comical. Whatever those here may think of the Bloody Emperor, to think he would attempt to assassinate the princess of a rival country on her sixteenth birthday is fevered.

    Jelka continued his investigation, opening the book and flipping through several pages. With no arcane conflagration or other ethereal danger spitting forth, he closed it. He lay the letter back on top of the book, and handed it to Renner. She nodded in thanks towards Jelka, turned, and curtsied likewise for Lucius.

    ¡°Thank you ambassador.¡±

    ¡°I know no greater pleasure than to hand the Golden Princess herself a gift.¡±

    With that, air began to move in the room once more. People broke back into hushed conversation, which soon cascaded into false-faced socialization. Renner, although she did not show strain, felt a twip of relief and posthumous amusement at the afare. Renner walked to a nearby seat. Although normally seats were reserved in strict observance of the hierarchies of the social order, after a particularly enjoyable ball held this spring by Marquis Pespea which flitted the concept all together, it had become fashionable among highbloods who found it an overwhelmingly exciting subversion. Ramposa the Third, who over his thirty-nine years of reign learned the true uselessness of tradition had instituted a similar policy of ¡°hot-seating¡± at this ball, giving Renner in this moment only a short walk on her aching feet. In a practiced act, she sat delicately in a masterful act of preformative femininity, and began to look at what she received.

    What have you given me, Jircniv? In imperial script, that spells ¡°Princepa Kiryptein¡±, no? A text on cryptography? Ah, a genuine gift. He¡¯s actively attempting to court favor with me. To think we could have never met, nor been within a hundred leagues of each other, and yet he still divines my tastes. Not unimpressive.

    Renner paused to consider this, prodding at her perception of him. Her attention turned to the letter. She half-expected it to be constructed entirely of blocks of encrypted text, and so was mildly amused when that turned out to be the case. Enclosed was a single page, front and back plastered with row after row of characters selected seemingly at random from the imperial alphabet. Her eyes snagged on the bottom of the rear page.

    Those words are not penned in the same style as the rest of the page. He likely dictated everything else, and only wrote that last part of the note. Ah El-Nix your hand is scratch of a high-note. ¡°Cur vincant te?¡±. ¡°Why do they defeat me?¡± No, he means why do I let them defeat me.

    Renner leaned back in her chair, parsing the Bloody Emperor¡¯s words.

    He means the initiatives I proposed. The ban on slavery suceeded, but that was an exception. Everything else has been caught in the quagmire of this country and drowned. I only had the political capital for such action as banning slavery, and slavery alone had enough popular support. What a strange question.

    Renner reset the letter back in its position in the envelope, and resolved herself to warmer things. Looking towards the far wall, she caught the gaze of Climb, and beckoned him over with a gesture. He had been present the entire night, although simply serving a shift as a door guard at the edge of the room. It would have been a faux pas of significant magnitude for him to so much as enter the dance floor to stand sentinel next to her, so he had been relegated to a minor duty where his no-blood ought to have no offense on those around him. This had not stopped him from serving her, and he became the manager of the gifts she received. He was practiced at this, and had done so for her at all prior birthday¡¯s they had spent together. A slow pile of false well-wishes had built itself to his dexter, and he now paced towards the princess with the intention of adding to it.

    You¡¯re so endearingly loyal. If only I could have you tonight in place of all these gifts.

    Climb entered the appropriate range to engage in conversation, and bowed. Renner felt mirth brew in her heart, caught in anticipation of what was to come

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Climb, thank you for managing this.¡±

    ¡°Without question, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner handed Climb the book and the letter, who accepted them. He looked down at the cover of the book, and his face quickly twisted in confusion as he realized it was written in a separate language. Climb was literate, this through the patronage of Renner who had insisted on his acquiring of an education, although his literacy did not extend beyond the language of the Kingdom.

    ¡°It¡¯s a book on cryptographic principles.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ alright, Your H-Highness¡±

    His eyes looked muddy, for some reason still trying to pull some meaning from the cover itself. Renner giggled, realizing her mistake too late.

    ¡°It''s how to write secret messages.¡±

    ¡°O-oh! Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    Understanding glimmered in his eyes, and she saw him gently reciting the word, committing the definition to memory. As he started to turn away to return to his post, Renner readied herself.

    Ah this will be fun, a moment to savor.

    ¡°Climb, don¡¯t go quite yet.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, your highness. What do you require?¡±

    ¡°Well, I recently spoke with Lakyus, and I¡¯m happy to say they¡¯ve delivered your armor. It¡¯s quite beautiful, a gleaming white.¡±

    ¡°Really? T-thank you! I deeply appreciate the gift, your highness. Thank you.¡±

    Climb gave a sharp and sudden bow, both in vast gratitude and embarrassment.

    ¡°Yes. Lakyus said it was a -oh what was it? Crimson Mithril?¡±

    ¡°Violet Mithril?!¡±

    ¡°Yes that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°That''s an Orichalcum alloy!¡±

    ¡°Eh? Oh how wonderful.¡±

    Climb had a broad and dumb smile on his face, Renner¡¯s being a more practiced display of mirth, but after a moment transitioned into a pout. She timidly turned her head away from Climb.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to thank her. Still¡­¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, your highness?¡±

    ¡°...She didn¡¯t have to refuse payment¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah. Say, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Where is the plate now? Did you leave it with Quartermaster Luka?¡±

    ¡°Oh I brought it to your quarters with some help from his men.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I see.¡±

    Climb sagged. The thought of any princess - much less one as practiced as Renner - entering the guardhouse was a comical one. It was inhabited by the guards and knights of the palace, and as they were almost entirely men, was a squalor. A woman of the court did not belong in a place like that. Every room therein was rank, doubly so for the bunks.

    He feels a little ashamed, no? At having exposed me to such a smell. This is delectable.

    ¡°Apologies Climb, I did not mean the guardhouse. I¡¯ve secured you private quarters.¡±

    His face. Gods if only I could still that face in stone and stare at its countenance evermore.

    ¡°T-thank you Princess! - Your Highness!¡±

    Climb, no longer feeling capable of standing, dropped into a kneel at this. Looking upward, he thought he caught a flash of wonderment in her eyes, but it passed too swiftly for him to get a sure grip of its existence.

    If only I could keep you down there, on your hands and knees. If only I could chain you up and walk you around like a dog.

    ¡ª

    Renner had long since exhausted all such patterns her eyes could loop through on her ceiling, yet still she found her eyes drifting to and fro in the channels of shadow that webbed it. She closed them in partial disgust at her lack of self control. She, for all her trying, had never quite grasped control over autonomic movement, and she regretted this gulf in her bodily mastery.

    It must be after midnight. A long day. So many conversations to parse through.

    Renner sighed in frustration, she knew it would be a long time before her mind would calm to the point of unconsciousness. Renner had put a little headway into the book El-Nix had gifted, but she only had a thin grasp on the Tutulian language. At the outbreak of the first Baharuth-Re-Estize Annual war, her educational curriculum had been revised, completely excising the Tutulian language on political grounds. Renner had still attempted to learn the language, and whatever reading she could find written in the script became precious possessions of hers. Thus, she planned to use the book not only as a source of cryptography knowledge, but to learn the language too.

    It''s such slow going. The contextual shifting of some letters makes it a true agony to try and understand the tenses. He thought I already could read the language, or- ah, no he doesn¡¯t. He expects me to learn and respond in kind, most likely for the next well wishes. It¡¯s such an oddity that we maintain that tradition, even as nobles seethe at the mouth for the death of the Emperor. He overestimates how much power I have. ¡°Cur vincant te?¡± Because I¡¯m a princess, and princesses have nothing in Re-Estize.

    Renner could not quiet her mind, and along the flotsam left in the wake of the day, it drifted to stranger shores. It ran aground on the memory of her interaction with Countess Bornbrook.

    Heyla, why are you so wonton at the loss of your name? Why are you so content to let things like that be decided for you? Did you even have a say in your matrimony? Not plausibly. I suppose I have little choice too. How restrictive this life we lead is.

    What of my name? Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself. I¡¯ll never be coronated as Queen Theiere, nor be beheld by that name. It sits uselessly there, fodder in my title, second of five. Granted, I never much cared for it anyway. Chardelon is equally useless, never to be used outside of Barbro insulting me, although I like the sound. Ryle only serves to tie me closer to my siblings, equally unpleasant. Vaiself simply indicates the blood through my veins, it says nothing of who I am. The only of my names I¡¯ve felt to emphatically embody is Renner. Quixotic.

    She could not slow herself, running headlong into the valleys of her being. She was feeling resentment, undercurrents of rage cutting new gashes in her psyche.

    Gods! What a damnable fate I must lead. What did you mean Jircniv? I¡¯d compel you to tell me even if it meant throttling the anima from your being. Why am I Renner? Why am I who I am? Why did Lakyus not understand what I meant? How could she not see that our actions would cause paranoia within Eight Fingers, not without? Why can I see these things and no one else?! How can no one tell that I¡¯m scheming my brother onto the throne? Isn¡¯t it obvious? The meetings I¡¯ve had with Lakyus should be known! Why do you fools dismiss them?!

    Renner sat up in her bed, seeking to quench herself in the cold dark of the night. Her body beat with abandon, her mind¡¯s screaming sending her blood pumping manically. She felt her veins pound, the drum in her chest audible in her ears. She listened to it, its thumps giving her visions of a nail being pounded; each bang a hammer strike driving it further into her flesh. It was agonizing, and she began to beg internally for it to stop. Her heart harked her, and in time, fell lower. It snatched her mind along with it, her anger slipping into a sadness. The warm black of the night ebbed into her body. Soon, the sadness faded too, and she was left emotionless. This was not an empty void, however, and at its core lay a consciousness which felt stripped bare of all the emotions and turbidites under which it had so cloaked itself. Renner began to ask herself questions, not in ire, but under a dispassionate eye.

    Who am I? No, what am I?

    ¡ª

    Insects sung in the depths of the night, what light came from the moon casting the planes ahead in a heavenly glow. Prowling in the field was a single fox, although it was not doing so with the gait of an animal currently hunting. Foxes were not creatures that could give themselves names, for they had no understanding of language, but this Vixin was an individual nevertheless. It was too bright to hunt, rabbits would see her from miles off, so there was no point in attempting to quarry anything but injured prey.

    Her back was starting to itch. Casting her gaze in a wide berth, she saw no others, and tasting the air with her snout, detected no smells she was not familiar with. Satisfied she was safe, she flipped onto her back and rubbed into the ground. This was a necessary relief, but also served to mark her hunting ground. This field was hers, and she sought to make it so. Scent was deeply important to creatures like foxes, and was used akin to signposts that humans made to stake their claims. Had she had a mind capable of comprehending the human dating system, she would have known this night as the Seventh of the Upper Fire month, near the nadir of its depth.

    Rolling onto her belly, she remarked on the strange feeling. She had met an incredibly attractive male who smelled just so wonderful to her, and they had made love a fortnight ago. She chuffed at the memory. Unbeknownst to her, for foxes had not made the connection between conception and birth, new things were brewing inside her. Come another cycle of the moon and new life would spring into the world, a litter of pups would know her as mother, in the same way that she had known hers but a year before. It would be difficult to safeguard them through the summer and fall, and many of them would likely meet their ends within a few days of birth. This was the natural way of things, animals on the plains knew the surety of death. Her ear started to itch. Annoyed, for she had just quashed one on her back, she got into a sitting position and began to scratch at it.

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 8]

    At the third stroke of her left foot, the rear half of her body ceased to exist. Extreme pain gripped her, and she fell forward with no hind legs to support her body. In the precious few moments before she bled out, she looked back to see what predator had so killed her. In a confusing sight, she saw a wall that had simply superseded the existence of her body when it so materialized. She died, terrified and alone.

    Her body, now lifeless flesh to be reclaimed by the earth, was still warm when the first eyes of the beings inside gazed upon this world. Cresting the wall was what outwardly appeared to be a man. He was mature, and held a dignified and terrifying aura. Dressed in an outfit similar to that of a butler¡¯s, he bore an odd poise. He began to circle the wall, moving with inhuman speed. His gaze fell on the vixen. Had the denizens inside those walls possessed the capacity to care for the doings of such creatures as foxes, they would have considered her death an honor; the first life they claimed in this world.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (1)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 10]

    Renner felt the absence of her emotions pointedly, and yet by no means desired their return. The last few days had produced clear thinking beyond what she had ever experienced, and she was in a way grateful for such a complete dispassion in her cognition.

    What surety of thought I¡¯ve had. It reminds me of how I was before I adopted my persona as princess. Such masks are useful, but stifling.

    There were greater heights to be reached, however, and she decided on taking a walk outside the palace. With her was Knight MacNamara and Climb, both for the purpose of guarding her as she walked through the streets of the Kingdom. Renner had taken many such walks in her life, partly using them as ways to inspire her thoughts about the Kingdom and its populace, often for pleasure. This time was no different, although she muted herself of such joys.

    Seeing him in that armor is¡­ pleasurable. I wonder what ends his mind is running to; most definitely pride, plausibly embarrassment and anxiety. Alas, I¡¯ll have time to obsess over his form later. This outing is to be used for making progress, not savoring its fruits.

    She lazed a circuitous loop, intending on spending a half day abroad the walls of Valencia. The capital was a large city, and even an hour of brisk walking would not permit one to cross from one gate of its walls to its opposite pair. Renner was thus to visit a few of the quarters in closer proximity, for they would be the only practical adventures. She wore a more practical outfit than her typical dresses, a split skirt and top that imbued her with the necessary freedom of movement. At this moment, she was moving tangent to the Illithica Exchange, the most opulent of such bartering halls in the city. It was a domain where merchantmen, not nobles, were sovereign. She had no intention of entering it, but it was on the east-west thoroughfare. Her presence had drawn a crowd, and she gave polite smiles and waves at frequent intervals. Conversations were haphazardly cut off as she passed, perceptive people turning and remarking a twip too late to those around them.

    Ironic that I should be so hated by my contemporaries yet so admired by their subjects. The lower a person stands in the rankings of blood lines, the higher they see my existence. Gazef comes to mind. Ah, of which he¡¯s in the borderlands. Some new crisis, an Imperial incursion by the reckoning of my father; Although I suspect it is a machination not of Baharuth, but Slane. I¡¯ll need to speak to him upon his return.

    The roads near the exchange were crowded with merchants. Wares from the breadth of the Kingdom and beyond made their way here. Olive skinned merchants from Roble carried finery, tapestries produced in the Arglands, furs hauled up from Abellion. The street wafted with the scent of borderland herb traders, arguments breaking out between alchemists over the price of Galgenmaennlien, Ajina, and Enkaishi. In a quixotic site, a grim dark elf was hocking armor made from the exoskeletons of some creature unknown to Renner, in a thick accent speaking of its flexibility and litheness. Street kitchens buzzed, woodfire stews, porridges, and baked goods sold for coppers.

    It¡¯s certainly vast, but this city is none too cosmopolitan as Arwintar. I wonder if I¡¯ll ever have the ability to travel Baharuth? Not without a general peace. I doubt we get even a quarter of the variety and scope of goods as does that place. It''s a veritable metropolis. How pitiful Re-Estize is to that.

    Knight MacNamera twitched his nose in distaste. This was not uncommon among highbloods, a sense of cultural superiority pervading the ranks of men and women who consisted of the upper-crust of the Kingdom. Even Renner fell susceptible to this on occasion, and had it not been for Lakyus¡¯s efforts to educate her on the culinary traditions of other nations, she would have mirrored MacNamera¡¯s actions.

    Ahh how insular much of our nation is. Even my favor towards tea receives its unfair quantity of questioning. Knight MacNamera, you can stomach the harrowing nature of battle, but not an overly spiced dish? You can bear to look at death, yet turn your nose up at an elf? What a pitiful state of being, yet it pervades our national character.

    The crossover points between districts were often indistinct, but the boundary between the richer neighborhoods and the poorer ones was clear. Although the thoroughfare remained paved, the side streets slipped from brick into mud. Gracefully, the zenith of the summer days had all but totally sundered the ground from its moisture away, and the quagmires of spring and autumn fell into its biannual hibernation. At this sight, El-Nix¡¯s words rang once more through Renner¡¯s head.

    It was a consortium of nobles who fought against me on this issue, no? I created a rare moment of faction unity in rejecting such an idea as paving all the roads in the Kingdom, royals not willing to stick their neck out for another of the Golden Princess''s. Even the capital itself they are content to let sink into a swamp. What a strange thought. They don¡¯t seem to realize that the low and no-bloods of the Kingdom are vastly more important than they. Don¡¯t you want your serfs to admire you? Embellished tales of far flung glories against the Empire for accomplishments that were not your own, but those of the sons and fathers that you rip out of house and home, dress in ill-fitted breastplate, and send to die somewhere on the Katze Plane, only to be rejected by the earth next lunar nadir will do little to improve their view of you. But making sure they no longer track mud into their domiciles every rain? Now that is popular. That is rulership. That is power.

    What was it that Lakyus said? ¡°Eight Fingers does not think like you do.¡± That applies far more broadly than she let on, and any person or ground can take the syndicate¡¯s place in that sentence. To think I have bemoaned such an advantage on the altar of loneliness. Foolish behavior. Nay, even in my lamentations, I stride forward. Still, it is more than a fair measure of annoyance that I receive at these rejections. I -

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    Renner caught the gaze of a pauper. He was a child, gaunt, and although perhaps double the age of her Climb when she took him in, reminded her deeply of that day. It was an overwhelming sensation, mirth cum melancholy. Although by her eye, she still preferred her Climb, her newly awakened self-awareness told her that had she not met him that day, she would have taken this boy now instead. She smiled and nodded at the boy, who¡¯s eyes grew wide in admiration. To have the princess look upon you in joy was an event that one could not understate, and Renner knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

    No, the subjects of the Kingdom don¡¯t simply admire me, they worship me. Not only am I a royal, but I¡¯m one that cares for their daily plights. Father fights his wars, and Barbro plays at them, but in practical terms I¡¯m the only one who¡¯s truly considered their needs. The construction of roads, paving of existing ones, crop rotations, swords-to-plowshares, promotion of the adventurers guild, subsidies for monster hunting; all my proposals, and with the exception of the outlaw of slavery, all failures. I always saw these measures as promoting the stability of the Kingdom - indeed if they passed they would - but people grow bitter in rejection. The mind holds more ire at what was lost than joy at what was had, and so many of my proposals have slipped through the fingers of the populace. I had always seen the material benefits as the paper increase in crop yields, logistic reliability, fundamental matters of national existence; but perhaps they are only paramount.

    Renner turned to Climb. The dust of the hard packed road had settled onto the shin guards of his armor; this had disappointed him to no end, and he looked on in slight shame. When he finally caught that Renner was looking at him, he straightened himself with a start.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Climb. What do you think of the populace of the Kingdom?¡±

    His face blanked with confusion.

    ¡°Uh, that¡¯s a big question, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Let me rephrase. How do you think the people of the Kingdom are doing? Or rather, what do they need?¡±

    It took him a few moments to formulate a response.

    ¡°...Peace, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°Because I wonder if we¡¯re doing enough. Me and my compatriots, the nobles and leaders of this nation.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, you do more than enough!¡±

    I¡¯ve attempted to, and indeed if my proposals could ever actualize, I will have improved their station. But I haven¡¯t, only made them more resentful.

    ¡°The ban on slavery was the only thing that passed.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but the rest would have if they hadn¡¯t been blocked by-¡±

    Climb cut his words mid sentence, and swallowed. MacNamera was glaring at him, reading his face for any sign of continuance.

    You know that nobles block me, but I hazard that everyone else does too. That my policy drafts do not simply die, but are killed.

    ¡°Adjutant Guard Climb. Care to finish that sentence?¡±

    The resentment in MacNamera¡¯s voice was palpable, vileness pouring from his mouth. It was a cutting jab, and he tried his best to bait a response from Climb. He hated Climb, a hatred that had begun upon his first site of the boy and he had refused to relent. Seeing his hark had been ignored, he turned his gaze forward.

    ¡°Mm, well, my countrymen didn¡¯t quite think them viable¡­¡±

    Although the public may yet hold this secret in their hearts, they care for me more than the King, or any other member of the nobility. How could they not? They know me as the Golden Princess, she who wishes to bestow upon them what they pine for.

    Renner halted herself, trepidation gripping her.

    This is a dangerous line of thought. What dark and monstrous places will this lead me too? Malformed hazards of cognition. To consider this line is to consider perfidious destruction, not simply in actualization, but in conceptualization. Eyes above would watch bated. Aberration can not be hidden in obsequiousness in the matters of the divine. Problematic.

    Renner did not know how to feel about the Gods. Although not atheistic in thought, she was skeptical. That they existed could not be denied. That they were omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent could. Scriptures sieved through age and distance from the Theocracy layed out a virtuous path of existence, proclaiming a utopian afterlife for those who abided by its tenants. Realms descended from there, with the pits of the world as ruinous places. Renner wondered why the Gods had not continued to intervene, or why they allowed their perfect message to stretch itself thin. The Eight Greed Kings were the strongest argument against the omnipotence of the Four Gods, or of the Six, and in the recesses of her mind she wondered if they were beings comparable to those. If perhaps such beings were like kin. She felt fearful, for she could not dismiss the idea that those beings could observe the inner-workings of her soul.

    No, I should not let that stop me. My path after my mortal form snaps should not concern these actions now. I doubt my father truly holds a divine mandate, likewise for El-Nix, doubly so for Calca Bessarez of Roble. If the Gods are truly concerned in human affairs, why do they not simply smite sinners from on high? Such questions require greater consideration.

    She steeled herself, bracing to openly embrace such perilous thought.

    Jircniv, you ask why I let myself fail. I propose I am not failing. I propose that I do exactly what I intend. That through power, I sow division, and through that division I create opportunity for change. That through the introduction and denial of my ideas, I create anger. That the anger I create is useful, for it promotes my existence in the eyes of the populace. That while I may be entirely impotent in high circles, that I am mirrored below and potent in that mirror.

    Renner looked out onto the crowd in front of her, the bustle of hundreds of lives, but a fraction of a fraction of the Kingdom¡¯s millions. Each was entangled in a struggle for existence, as meaningful to them as were Renner¡¯s to her. She knew this in an abstract way, but she failed to care. A sociopathy gripped her, and she felt in true control of herself.

    I had long assumed that stability of the Kingdom was desirable, because it increased the chance that I could have a quiet life for me and my Climb. This was erroneous. I will not limit my actions to the benefit of the Kingdom.

    Renner grinned.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (2)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 12]

    Renner was lonesome. Seated adjacent to the window, she cast her gaze down onto the court yard below. Although three stories up, she was able to see with adequate clarity the object of her affection, Climb. He was nestled in a formation of troops, dashing down the lawn in a mock charge. It was a rare occurrence that the residents of Valencia allowed a training regime to be held outside, this on the basis of the health of the greenery. Groundskeepers did not let this happen without contention, but Jelka could not stomach his men going more than two months between outside exercises. For the men itself, it was a treasured field-day, and even though the work would become grueling as the sun rose to and fro its zenith, it was a day of activity far divorced from the dreary tower where they usually bettered

    How boyish they all are; taking their fill of the wabe. I suppose I cannot look down on those desires. It seems to be a fun thing, a joyful movement. Jelka tries his best to keep this a serious affair, but the grins on their faces seem otherwise. What an existence. Eh? First place in that dash Climb! What an accomplishment. I¡¯ll need to find a way to reward him later.

    Renner was cheering internally for Climb. Watching him exercise was, to her, pleasurable - even if not in competition. There were other onlookers, mostly the staff of the palace, almost all female. Particularly so for the plateless exercises, maids in the palace always found their excuse to end up by the north end, and to cast their eyes upon the flurry of men. This was not an idol consideration; the socially demanded status required to enter Valencia being so high, even the maidstaff being highblood from lesser houses, those women were watching Knights for the traits of suitorship. Renner would soon find her excuse too, and descend from her room onto one of the small sitting spaces cloaked from the sun on the palace lawn, this at a distance none too close as to inspire talk nor too far as to let the intelligibility of the scene fade into the day. This was not to pretend as if this didn¡¯t serve baser needs for those women (and perhaps a man or two) involved, and they watched not only in evaluation, but in hunger.

    The way his legs move, the musculature rippling under the skin. What flesh you have. How effective and controlled it is. It must hurt to move like that, to build your body in such a way where its strength bulges from your form. Ah, enthralling! I cannot help but wonder what it would be like to be male?

    Renner idly considered the thought, and dismissed it. She had little interest in the topic of gender besides how it had so subjected her to her father''s wills. She knew of some diversity of thought, and that the empire had itself long possessed a group of individuals who were not so cleaved to their physical manifestation of sex as those of Re-Estize were ought too. Renner ticked up one more checkmark on her list of cultural ignorances, resolving herself to read more Tutulic literature once she finished brute-forcing El-Nix¡¯s gift cross ploy. At a particularly impressive leap from her puppy, she let her feelings become audible, and gave a little squeal. It was a rare reveal of her inner thoughts, one borne only from her absolute confidence in her privacy.

    Ah if only I could drag you in here and mount- oh? An arrival. An unexpected one at that.

    There was a scramble by the north gate, a quad of watchmen rushing to it. Striking the lever, the gate shot upward opposite of counterweights. In rode a dozen on horses at full gait, but the riders rapidly bayed the horses from their gallop.

    That¡¯s Gazef, his lieutenants Unera, Opiclus, but I don¡¯t see Yinervel. No, I don¡¯t see Gerhart, Kilijen, Forthrast, Welldon. That private there, Jal, his squad sergeant isn¡¯t present, yet he¡¯s riding in with a motley group of the rest. The rankings are full of holes. They aren¡¯t returning in triumph. No, they aren¡¯t victors, but survivors.

    Many of the riders were wounded. Splints, red-soaked linens, and tourniquets dotted the men. Gazef was no exception, his breastplate seemingly pierced in over a score of places.

    Why haven¡¯t they restored their wounds with potions? Surely that would have been the sensible thing to do; unless they ran out.

    Renner¡¯s eyes started to widen. Her last interaction with Gazef had been over a month prior, him framed in between the rows of flowers in the palace garden.

    Did he truly encounter the Theocracy, or perhaps that traitor of theirs? I doubt anything but the most cunning of Imperial planners could have so laid waste to him and his men as this - in an ambush at that. This is concerning. To see the Warrior-Captain brought so low in his domain of expertise.

    Gazef halted his horse at the head, and began to dismount. He struggled, bandages and weariness gripped him. The scene played out silently for Renner, distant enough to be muffled by the window and air between them. She caught many of the men training on the field breaking ranks and running to Gazef. Jelka made no move to stop them, and he was charging flat out. A rush of knights to Gazef¡¯s side, and to the sides of the entire warrior band, and the Warrior-Captain was pulled from his horse. Dried blood matted its fur, and Renner knew her day was to be interesting.

    ¡ª

    Time slipped painfully slow, Renner found herself pacing her room. Six hours had passed since Gazef and what remained of his company had arrived. He had entered behind into the chambers which were so reserved for such martial and strategic matters, along with her father, Jelka, and a number of other highblood officers. Renner saw a fleet of runners depart soon after, and within an hour, began to trickle back alongside those who they summoned. She counted those who arrived at the palace in Gazef¡¯s wake, for the most part a smattering of military officials; interestingly, representatives for Marquis Blumrushm, Marquis Pespea, and Margrave Urovana.

    He sent only for the Royal Faction, meaning that this is a faction politics matter. This was no threat like a dracokin or any such sepulcher brimming with this world¡¯s monstrosities. It seems a threatening matter. Has the Noble Faction gone far enough to collaborate with the Theocracy on the matter of Gazef? It would be absurd, such a betrayal of King and Country simply to waylay one man; which is why I think it true. Verily, how can it not be?

    Renner continued to pace. Walking to the window, she marked the last of the representatives mounting his horse and departing at a brisk trot. She drew in breath sharply, bracing herself for what she would need to do. Her face had already been donned in makeup, for she had rigorously constructed her appearance hours earlier.

    I need to be proactive. Go to my father''s side and play the role of a worried daughter.

    Renner had attempted and failed to do this earlier, driven off by the knight at the door. This was what had confirmed her suspicions that this was a factional crisis, not a national one. She was invited as a matter of course to war councils, strategy sessions, and any other such events as part of Ramposa¡¯s retenue to show his support for the matters being discussed. She was blocked from ever interjecting, serving simply as something sweet for noblemen to gaze upon between arguments, but merely being able to listen sufficed for her. Renner walked to the outer door of her sitting room, her flats clacking against the ground.

    Do they see me as a risk of information leakage? No, probably just dismiss me for my gender alone. They don¡¯t see me as fit to know what they¡¯re discussing. How boyish.

    Opening the door, she stepped out into the corridor and made her way to the throne room. Valencia palace had three of such, and Renner followed the path to the smallest. It was a two minute walk, Renner using this dead time to give herself a proper expression of endearing fear. Winding through hallways and corridors, she tweaked her face in the moments she was out of sight of maidstaff or other personnel. Rounding a corner, Renner approached the entrance double-doors, the two knights watching her proceeding to open it. Entering into the throne room, she observed the light of the now descending sun as it cast the shapes of windows across the ground. Walking to the far end, a third knight saw her and opened the door to the strategy room, itself on the wall stage-right to the throne. As the frame before her widened, she observed what she saw inside.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    My father; Gazef and his two surviving lieutenants, Unera and Opiclus. Knight-Lord Vellen, Knight-Marshals Helgrave and Theiern. Palace Defense Coordinator Jelka. Oh, that¡¯s one of the servants of Margrave Uruvana¡¯s representative Elijah, ahh what was his name? Lakane, no, Lagann. Barbro and his Adjutant Teloran too. Even Zanac?

    Renner felt her soul chafe. This was a stunningly poor showing of information security, and a complete failure to keep information tight. She tiredly pieced together her father¡¯s thought process, cringing as she did so.

    This is a military matter by your reckoning, so you figured Jelka wouldn¡¯t be enough and wished Vellen and his men here. They of course have expertise, but Gazef himself can provide you all the details you need to know, and you can simply diffuse that information to the Knight-Lord at a later date. You suspect factionalism is at play, so didn¡¯t invite any of the Royal faction representatives for what is outwardly a matter of national defense, yet you let your allies send you their second and third rate men. Further, you want Barbro here, not only because he¡¯s a failure of a son whose head you need to set the crown upon with the gentlest of efforts lest it cave in, but also because of his activities in the borderland with Harlink and Bajan. The one smart thing you did was invite Zanac, but you probably did so begrudgingly as you¡¯ve so expertly twisted your evaluations of your offspring. This information defense of yours is so perforated and run through as to collapse at the slightest breeze!

    It took much of Renner¡¯s patience, effort, and self-control to avoid exposing herself at that moment. She held her derision internal, under a mask which felt to her to be thinner than a strand of her golden hair. Barbro and Zanac failed to do likewise upon seeing her, their faces twisted in a fleshy visage she found to be in the kinship of gargoyles.

    If someone from a station like Lagann¡¯s was here, then that means without a doubt that Blumrush¡¯s presence in the capital attended too. So the Empire will know the results of this meeting. Further, Knight-Lord Vellen is a political pawn for Boullope, so even guarding yourself against the machinations of the Noble Faction has fallen apart. All that aside, the half of you, including my brother-dearest, are all taking money from Eight Fingers. The maidstaff of the palace will have already sent word back to masters of this meeting. Everyone in Re-Estize will know of its holding by nightfall, most will guess or outright know its contents in a week, and even El-Nix will be aware in two. Unbelievably foolish.

    Completely unaware of the rage that Renner felt toward him, Ramposa III saw her, his face lighting in the presence of his daughter.

    ¡°Renner, how my eyes have ached to see you.¡±

    Gazef¡¯s head jerked up from a map spread across a table, clearly not expecting the Golden Princess to arrive. She saw him swallow at the sight of her, and seemed almost nervous at her approach.

    That feels almost enjoyable. I¡¯ll speak to you in earnest later, Warrior-Captain.

    ¡°Father, I''ve been worried all day, is something the matter?¡±

    ¡°Yes. My precious daughter...¡±

    Renner was now close enough for Ramposa to place his hand on her cheek. His eyes watered, Renner softening and lowering her voice at this.

    ¡°What is it father?¡±

    ¡°Disturbing plots against the Warrior-Captain. A blatant move from the Noble faction. From now on, I don¡¯t want you going anywhere without a bodyguard, or without Adjutant Climb. I need you to be safe.¡±

    To think he would give me such a leniency in time with Climb, what a boon! When I figure out who orchestrated this attempted killing, I ought to thank them.

    ¡°What plots, father?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it darling. This isn¡¯t something you need to concern yourself with.¡±

    ¡°But father-¡±

    ¡°Enough, this is no matter for you to worry over.¡±

    Renner huffed, giving her father a look part sorrowful and doubtful, the perfect image of a loyal and concerned princess. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but quickly ceded the point altogether.

    He¡¯s anguished. He must feel hollow at the state of things, feeling as if I am in danger. A noble plot however? Would they really be so oafish as to attempt to kill Stronoff? What possible need could that serve besides a runup to assassination? There¡¯s no benefit in that besides a course of further violence, and I doubt the ability of Boullope or Lytton to commit regicide. Hm, yes maybe they would resort to such foolishness. Ah Lakyus, your words ring ever truer.

    She raised her head to look at the Warrior-Captain, forcing her eyes to wet. She broke away from Ramposa III, stepped shakily over to Gazef. He was clearly taken by her interaction with her father, and was still unprepared to speak with her.

    It''s strange that he¡¯s this wary of me. Unpleasant to reverse my earlier intonations on him, but is he truly that nervous of me? What an odd thing. Has he not just brushed with death? His plate was shot through, at least to my eye. To think my cognition would inspire behaviors of this scale is strange to me.

    Renner ran her gaze down his chest, marking the pock marks of violence on his outfit. He was not wearing his plate, having been ditched in a corner of the room hours prior; but Renner could see tatters in his tunic. Four and six pointed starbursts dotted it, cut so cleanly as to all but ensure they were the work of magic. A stout table nearby was set upon by empty vials, and Renner saw clearly that he had been downing tonics and other restorative concoctions throughout this council. Close enough now to do so, she took his dexter hand into hers, squeezing it and peering into his eyes.

    ¡°Warrior-Captain Stronoff, you¡¯re a sanguine and loyal servant of the Kingdom. Not only a hero of Re-Estize, nor the people you did battle to shield east of E-Rantel, but a hero of all mankind. To think that any ne''er-do-well would ever pine for a plot against your person is appalling beyond reckoning. You are a custodian of the Kingdom, verily so! Please stay ever in the light of our lands, and by the side of my father. I know not what machinations the Noble Faction brews, but please safeguard yourself! We cannot let you pass from our age!¡±

    The room was speechless, her plea so impassioned, and yet slightly comical at the same time. Gazef himself was in the throws of a forlorn pride at declaration, a weak smile coming over his face.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    Now for the intended cause of my coming.

    ¡°It is but a minor thing I can provide, but if you possess the want, come by my sitting room, and we could perhaps share an afternoon course.¡±

    ¡°An invitation from the Golden Princess herself is no ¡®minor thing¡¯. I must accept.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡±

    Renner let go of his hand, and proceeded to return to her fathers side. In this way, she had turned her back to almost all in the room, with those in her path not casting their gazes at her. Her eyes shot to her left, and she drank in as much as she could from the map splayed out on the long table Gazef had been sitting at.

    Area map of the areas surrounding E-Rantel, tactical information mostly. Lots of sketching around Bajan¡¯s domain, perhaps that is why Barbro received an invitation, but Carne village seems to be the focus of their investigation . I know little of that place; unfortunate. They¡¯ve taken a protractor to it and drawn circles, ah I can¡¯t see the map scale, but still that looks to be 10 miles. What is that name? ¡°Ainz Ual Gown¡±? Looks like it''s spelled separately there as ¡°Ooal¡±. Strange.

    The map slipped out of her line of sight, but Renner had forever trapped what she had seen. Her recall was near prenatural, and she had no difficulty in chewing over what her eyes had touched in her mind.

    It¡¯s obviously not the name of any noble, nor of any village chief, or villager for that matter. Perhaps the name of a demihuman or heteromorph giving the locals trouble. Was it what the Theocracy was hunting in the area? That may be too great a leap. Ah, so many questions left unresolved. There was a path drawn between village to village, the order was headed northward. There was an enemy squad marker by Carne. That must have been where the battle with Carne was fought. Hm, a squad size enemy doing such damage to the Warrior Band? That all but assures Theocracy involvement. I doubt that any but one of the six scriptures could do such; aside from the four servants of Jurcniv. No, he¡¯s too vain to let them die in some border skirmish, this is definitely a doing of Slane.

    Of all the ambiguity that enthroned the terrors of the theocracy, none were less concerning than the rumors of the Gods deep past. The scriptures made no mention of the relations of the Gods in their earthly existence, however, contradictory records existed. The Gods themselves, although deified by the froth-mouthed preachers of the church, were undeniably historical figures. Codices and manuscripts from that age were precious objects, and some pointed to the Gods themselves fathering offspring. The Theocracy itself considered such statements heretical, but for all their efforts, they had never eradicated that rumor.

    It is hasty beyond reason to imagine the involvement of Godkin, but none-the-less my mind wanders to that place. If anyone would have the sons or daughters of such beings, it would be one of the six Scriptures.

    Renner arrived in front of her father. She was prepared to depart back to her room, but found the time to make one last goodbye.

    ¡°Father, is there anything I can do to ease your worry?¡±

    ¡°Nothing more, my daughter. For all the crises we experience, you help me stand indomitable. I love you.¡±

    Renner lied through her teeth once more this day.

    ¡°I love you too.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (3)

    Only the Gods could know what thoughts are roiling in her mind. Did she seriously just invite Stronoff to tea? On what basis is that leaf-stained water of hers useful? She might just be trying to ingratiate relations with him, or act like an innocent princess, but what does that get her? Maddening.

    Zanac was himself, entirely unsure what to think of her sister¡¯s intrusion. He was sure it had something to do with gathering information, but he could not place concrete motives on his sister''s actions. So much of her being was entirely enigmatic, and it pained him that he was the only person to see this. These feelings compounded inside of him when he remembered her father¡¯s declaration of worry for her safety.

    Father, did you really have to bestow her greater access to that false-knight of hers? Surely you recognize that she¡¯s infatuated with him, do you want her getting ideas? Actually, he may not give a damn. A shame, she really should be married off as soon as possible.

    Zanac found his father hard to parse, but mostly attributed his foolishness to an unjustified love for his children. In his eyes, Renner was in danger of losing her youth, and thus, her utility to the royal family as a political bargaining chip. He had spotted his father conversing about her fate with suitors at the ball five nights prior.

    About time. As soon as she¡¯s out of the palace, the better. I can¡¯t stand the feeling of that monster¡¯s eyes on me.

    Zanac had long since regarded his little sister as a horror. In the runup to his ninth birthday, he had become genuinely convinced through his misunderstanding of necrology that she was a vampire, and he had taken every opportunity to guide her into sunlight. When she failed to incinerate in the gaze of daytime, he cycled through a number of different possibilities, spending a number of weeks talking with the librarian, demanding ever more complicated dark bestiaries. This, at first, seemed little more than a boyish fascination at the occult face of heroism and battle, and Librarian Yelta embraced most of his needs for a time - only cutting him off after he asked for an older copy of Codex Necrota. With time he grew out of this delusion, but still could never break the unnerving feeling she gave off.

    Perhaps it¡¯s all just misremembrance and the naive fears of childhood. Maybe she is no monster after all, I haven¡¯t seen those traits in her since her youth, and who knows what tricks my mind played on itself. Still¡­

    He struggled to return his thoughts to the matter at hand. Thankfully, she had already left the room, providing him with the sense of security he needed to continue.

    What an inane crisis. To think that the Noble faction would collaborate with the Theocracy to kill Gazef Stronoff. No, to think the Theocracy would collaborate with the noble faction.

    Zanac chucked at his inner joke, exhaling in frustration and dark humor. He took the flask by his side and swigged the spirit inside.

    Challenging days demand fine whiskey. Gods, what a shitshow this whole affair is. This may take weeks to resolve.

    The events of the tenth had already cut a groove into his mind, and he slipped into it, recalling what Gazef and his lieutenants had done in order.

    Following the report made by a runner to E-Rantel claiming the presence of Imperial Knights, they departed northward. They encountered two razed villages, Usamsara and Delberg, only the latter of which had survivors. Gazef ordered his Vice-Captain Velthrop to take the survivors southward to E-Rantel, while he proceeded north to Carne. There, he found a score of dead knights, all the work of this ¡°Ainz Ooal Gown¡±.

    Zanac grimaced. He had little understanding of magic, less so for their casters. The appearance of one at such a critical juncture seemed like misfortune in the extreme, and he struggled to understand his motivations.

    He spoke to this caster, who had made an armored hulk from nothing but the corpse of a knight, and set it upon its former fellows. Those bastards from the Theocracy set upon Gazef, killed most of his men, and right as he was to fall to the force of angels they summoned, found his place swapped with that wizard. By the time returned to the spot of battle, that character had already ended the lot of them. How vexing. To think we almost lost our Warrior-Captain, only to be rescued last minute by this Gown fellow.

    Gazef had told this story in great detail to the shock and horror of those invited. He had determined in his conversation with the leader of the enemy forces that they had done this with the assent of the noble faction, an even greater perplexity.

    They¡¯re all an insane bunch. I could be told anything about them and I would believe it. Somehow this one wizard or sorcerer or whatever the hell he is - who, according to his own words, has spent so much time studying the chasm of magic in Tob that he forgot the goings of the world, and the world him - killed a squad of the elite forces of the Theocracy by his own hand; created an undead hulk by his own hand; and then later completely annihilated the Sunlit Scripture itself. What insanity.

    Speculation on who, or what this person was had ensued. High-elf, dragonid, or perhaps even a litch. The latter idea had been shot down by Gazef however, saying that such a being would have needed to keep regular contact with the outside world for the harvesting of souls, lest its body wither away. None of this was helped by the fact that Gown had worn a mask, a full body robe, and had covered his hands. This had turned the enigma that surrounded him from frustrating to downright rage-inducing. This went doubly so for his companion, a black-armored, presumably from their litheness, female knight who Gazef described as having an unnerving gait and speed. Zanac was ready to throw up his hands and declare the pair another one of the mysteries of the world that humanity would never know, but the King had insisted at least upon an evaluation of their strength.

    ¡°No weaker than Parodyne.¡± How curt of our captain, but I suppose he could say nothing more. Frustrating. Whoever he is, he¡¯s the least concerning aspect of this entire debacle. What can we even do? The foriegn response is easy. Simply pretend this never happened, and if we do speak on the matter, blame the Empire. The internal question is another case entirely. This is a matter of treason, but father in no way has the political leeway to execute someone over thus, much less the head of a rival house.

    Zanac took another, much longer swig from his flask, only to stop when he felt it drain entirely. He put it down in disgust.

    There¡¯s no solution here. If we fail to act, there¡¯s no telling what similar plots might come up. Alas, we have no information on who orchestrated such a plot among the Noble faction. They obviously intended to weaken the royals by doing so, but it¡¯s difficult to tell who would go so far as to contact the Theocracy to do as such. What would they have even exchanged? I doubt those religious zealots would have accepted coinage.

    ¡°What a pain.¡±

    Zanac felt something strike him at that moment. He turned to his brother, who himself was staring at the door trying to process his anger over his sister.

    ¡°She had no place being here.¡±

    ¡°Wha- Yes I agree, but brother?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°About your campaign in Bajan¡¯s territory-¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    Gods you oaf! Can I not finish a sentence?

    ¡°Do you think any of the Imperials you routed were Theocracy?¡±

    ¡°No chance at all, my knights would have noted.¡±

    Why are you so sure? What could possibly inspire such confidence in you at this juncture?

    ¡°How can you be so su-¡±

    ¡°I can distinguish the cowardice of an Imperial varmint from those damned clerics. Those bastards die easier and die better. There''s absolutely no chance of such!¡±

    Ah! He fears blame for this incident. If he failed to notice the incursion before, then that could be further fodder in the claims of his incompetence.

    Zanac chuckled, Barbro¡¯s face turning redder by the second.

    ¡°Why the hostility brother?¡±

    ¡°I am not being hostile, you should learn to control your tongue!¡±

    Ah but my tongue is my bite. You¡¯re showing your hand brother. Still, there are so many uncertainties.

    ¡°I was simply mentioning as such, still, this raises more questions than it answers.¡±

    ¡°Like what.¡±

    I¡¯m going to make you regret that snide tone in your voice; you can¡¯t play at this as I can.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°Well, if this Ainz Ooal Gown fellow would come out to rescue a village that was being attacked by Imperial knights, why didn¡¯t he come out a month prior? Could so much have changed for him in the last forty days? Captain Stronoff?¡±

    Not realizing Zanac had directed his question at him, Gazef was only aware of the prompt to respond.

    ¡°Well, he said he was a recluse who knew little of the world. By his story, he apparently had left his laboratory right at the time the village came under attack, and chose to save them, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Do we really believe that? Besides, he did it in exchange for payment.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re highness, if I may?¡±

    ¡°Speak.¡±

    ¡°I think he may have been lying, your highness.¡±

    Ahh you have a keen grasp of the obvious Stronoff.

    ¡°I thought we took that as a matter of course?¡±

    ¡°No, well, yes that too. Apologies, your highness. I meant that I think he was lying about saving the villagers in exchange for payment.¡±

    Oh? Apologies Stronoff, it seems I spat insults at you too quickly. Ah, my brother seems ready to interject with some more foolery.

    ¡°What in the blazes would he do that for?!¡±

    ¡°Brother, isn¡¯t it clear? Captain Stronoff is suggesting that Ainz Ooal Gown is a man of character. Am I correct Captain?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, your highness.¡±

    ¡°And being as the Captain himself is a man of character, it only makes sense that Gown would go out of his way to save him, and take no such previous action a month prior.¡±

    Barbro was the only man in the room who did understand the insult, his misfortune doubled by the fact that it was levied at him. The military men, in addition to Gazef, kept their cool, but Ramposa had no interest in such games.

    ¡°Zanac Velleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, this is no time to throw backhanded jests at your brother! This is a crisis of kingdom and sovereignty and yet you find time to joke? That behavior wouldn¡¯t be acceptable at half your age. He is the crown prince! Consider the consequence if anyone outside this room was party to such a piece of wordplay!¡±

    Barbro only now understood that his brother''s words were tantamount to calling him a lowlife.

    ¡°You scoundrel! You dare say such a thing to me, the Crown Prince?!¡±

    ¡°I apologize father, brother. Our enemies will all rue the day you are named King Andrean.¡±

    Barbro shook, exercising what little self control he had in that moment.

    You for must feel so proud for restraining your capacity for violence. Who would follow a crown prince that pulverizes his brother?

    ¡°Zanac, that is enough!¡±

    ¡°Yes father, I doubly apologize.¡±

    ¡°Brother, I feel it is time for you to take your leave.¡±

    Ah, you almost sound dignified. Quite impressive, perhaps I could pin a paper star on your chest.

    ¡°Indeed, I agree so too.¡±

    Zanac stood, and bid his farewell to his father with a shallow bow. He pocketed the flask he had so set aside earlier, and exited the room. His father¡¯s paranoia had risen to new heights, and likewise to Renner, he too had received a command to be under additional guard. To that end, he had been given the service of Knight Alucian, who had been standing sentry outside the strategy chamber. Opening the door and looking to his left, he was dismayed to see Alucian speaking to his sister.

    She never left?! She¡¯s been making conversation with my bodyguard this entire time? Gods, I wonder if she¡¯s been eavesdropping on my spat with Barbro.

    ¡°Ah, Brother! How are you?¡±

    No, that¡¯s not possible. The walls of that room are proofed both from skulks and arcanists. Besides, she¡¯s obviously been speaking and listening to Alucian. It''s not possible for her to have overheard what happened inside. Am I sure I¡¯m not going to slip into senility before father does?

    At the site of his charge, Alucian snapped quickly into a bow, but Zanac waved him out of it.

    Again with the inanity from her! Of course I¡¯m not doing well, the royals are in crisis! The best way for me to extricate myself from this is simply to humor her a bit.

    ¡°That¡¯s more than halfway daft of you to ask, no?¡±

    She gave an embarrassed laugh, setting her left index finger by her mouth as she did so.

    ¡°Eh? I suppose so. Forgive me for my foolishness brother.¡±

    Maybe she truly is simple. In moments like this it would be near ludicrous to suggest otherwise. Although, how do I account for her actions as a young child? She¡¯s uncrackable. Still, to think she¡¯s been acting so impeccably all this time. Gods why does she worm into my mind at every site of her form?! I wish she would get married off and do so fast, if only so I never see her again.

    Renner turned and gave a regal smile.

    ¡°Thank you, Knight Alucian. Please bid your wife a regal greeting, I wish her and your new child well.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness. She would be honored to receive such a message from the Golden Princess herself.¡±

    She was just making small talk with my guard? What a strange thing. If this be an act of hers¡­

    ¡°Chardelon, would you mind not pestering my sentry?¡±

    ¡°Eh? Okay¡­¡±

    Renner pouted in her typical fashion. Alucian himself was ready to genuflect, although he was unsure to whom he should direct his apology, bowing to both.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough concern for a day, I¡¯m going to retire to an early dinner.¡±

    ¡°Okay brother. Would you mind if I walked with you?¡±

    Yes, I would mind!

    ¡°I hold no objection, but shouldn¡¯t you be getting back to your room? You have no ground to play politics upon.¡±

    ¡°Well I need to get Climb first. That¡¯s not too far from the hall you take your meals in, no? I¡¯ll head back after.¡±

    Shit, of course. She¡¯s got me in a bind. How does she evade every remark I send her way?

    Zanac started to walk, going as fast as his form would allow without sacrificing dignity.

    I need to stay calm. Her presence is simply infuriating. What is she getting out of this? I doubt she¡¯s but a little sadistic.

    ¡°Brother, should I be worried for father?¡±

    ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t be. He can handle the fallout of what¡¯s happened.¡±

    ¡°Eh? But he seemed so afraid, doubly so for you and me.¡±

    You can¡¯t be so stupid to say as such! Surely you can tell that any hint of this making it out of that room will result in consequences beyond the mindless gossip you consume. Besides, you have no right to elevate yourself so much! Father¡¯s fear is ridiculous, no, downright paranoia. Attempting to kill that commoner Gazef is in no way tantamount to a machination against royalty!

    ¡°Saying such things as that is dangerous Renner. He¡¯s simply concerned for the state of the faction, not afraid for our lives.¡±

    ¡°But if he¡¯s assigning us extra guards, then how can it not be as such? Does he not fear a plot of assassination?¡±

    ¡°In no way could we be at risk.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so sure? I don¡¯t understand how-¡±

    ¡°The nobles collaborating with Slane to kill Gazef in the border lands in no way-¡±

    Shit! I let slip the Theocracy¡¯s involvement. Gods! Who else could have been listening to this conversation? I let her get under my skin and look at what she pried out of me.

    ¡°Slane?! You mean the Theocracy is-¡±

    ¡°Stop! Don¡¯t say any more.¡±

    Zanac was breathing heavily. As the conversation had escalated, his brisk pace had unconsciously escalated beyond the point of sustainability. He felt his heart pound. He closed his eyes and tried his best to stifle his emotions, although it quickly became clear to him that he would fail.

    I must not fear. I am far too anxious to hold a conversation with this bitch. Dammit!

    Opening his eyes, he saw Renner looking at him with concern. Confusingly, he failed to sense any hostile intent from her. Her enigma compounded, and Zanac found it harder to justify his foul preconceptions of her as a deceiver. She lowered her voice.

    ¡°Brother, are you ok?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine. Let''s not discuss this any more.¡±

    They walked in silence; importantly for Zanac, at a slower pace. The throbbing of his chest began to abate, the air he sucked in feeling all the more precious.

    I didn¡¯t see anyone nearby besides Alucian, and he¡¯s not a great information risk. A lucky break. Still, I don¡¯t like Renner knowing these things. Providing information to unknown quantities is risky, much more so when they know you didn¡¯t want it disclosed.

    ¡°Say, brother?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What do you think of Marquis Raeven?¡±

    ¡°W-what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Whose side do you think he¡¯ll take in this current crisis?¡±

    Why does she want to know this? What relevance does she think it has? I should answer cautiously here, something generic enough to avoid suspicion.

    ¡°I imagine that snake will do whatever he sees as being in his best interest.¡±

    Zanac caught the left corner of her mouth twitch. It was ever momentary, but it spun his thinking ever deeper.

    ¡°I agree.¡±

    Was that not the answer she wanted to hear? What interest does she have in Raeven?

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh, no matter. I just struggle to understand the courses of action he takes from time to time. They sometimes feel so antithetical to the course of the Kingdom, no? Simply a copper for your thoughts is all.¡±

    She¡¯s after something, but what? Maddening.

    Zanac saw that he had arrived at his destination, his soul exhaling in relief. He half-expected his sister to find some new excuse to follow him into the hall, but she continued walking past him. She waved goodbye.

    ¡°I bid you well brother! You too, Knight Alucian!¡±

    ¡°I bid you in twain, sister.¡±

    Zanac uncomfortably watched her leave, anticipating her finding a reason to pirouette and return to his side. She took no such action, however, and when she rounded the corner at the other end of the corridor, he felt the tension ebb from his body. He took half a moment to reset himself, and walked inside.

    I do wonder why she cared about Raeven.

    ¡ª

    So I can confirm the involvement of the Theocracy. I wonder how foolish Barbro must feel right now! How enjoyable. Still, it is a less critical matter than Zanac.

    Renner felt giddy; this day was becoming ever more joyful.

    It¡¯s a fey-like fun goading insults out of him. I have no doubt that I successfully planted a desire to speak with Raeven inside of him. Even if he has yet to realize it, it will eat at him until he can no longer contain his curiosities. After that, I¡¯ll simply ask Maid Laina her thoughts on the matter of my brother. Her response will tell me if they met. Even more progress today, etching an excuse for a council with Gazef. I feel as if I am in a position of power. No, I most certainly am.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (4)

    Iron struck iron, kin of the forge clashing and reverberating. The gray fruit of craftsmen ran against their contemporaries, accumulating damage that would burrow its way into the minds of those who rendered them from the white heat of flame and phlostogins. Two men were engaged in a tight melee. Elegance beset elegance, and the art of swordsmanship found its truest expression in this moment.

    How swift they dance! Such vigor, such strength.

    It was a mortal waltz, the interlocked wills of two common men who proved to be anything but that in their ability. The shorter of the two spun inward, whipping a long and curved blade with such power and force as to shatter the mind of a lesser wight. The blade stopped in the fore of its target however, and a kick shot forth from the man. A truly dastardly mixup, and his opponent was none-too-cunning as to have predicted it; rather, he merely took the blow. The men launched back from each other, this having been the opening test of each other''s style as warriors.

    The noise of the arena came rushing back into the ears of Renner, it having been forgotten for the sound of metal upon metal. The combatants slowed their pace, circling in twain with the eyes more consanguineus of beast than man. The aggressor of the first engagement licked his lips, tasting the froth kicked up by their footwork, the dusts of the ground yet to be contained by the rains of autumn. This was Brain Unglaus, a cutthroat fighter. He was a man of the new moon, and his bladesmanship lurked somewhere in the thin curvature of its rim.

    His actions so far have been ever so deceptive. Feints and counterplays. Brother names it a dishonorable way of fighting, but I care ever-so-little for his limp-minded evaluations of such things. In no way could he win otherwise, and if his value as a warrior is not in his ability to kill (even if in ever-so-dirty ways), then what?

    Renner could not help but root for Brain in her heart, for the outcome was against his favor. He faced a titan of a man, a warrior who drove not body for sake of blade, but blade for sake of body. He had cut, charged, and trampled his way through the rankings, and even when encountering a giant akin to him in stature, completely bested her in application of its abilities. This was Gazef Stronoff, who had gone from jeered nobody to begrudging crowd favorite. Had any of the people surrounding Renner been given the choice, with the hesitant exception of her father, neither man would have made it into the qualifiers.

    How dismissive they are of strength when it comes not coincident from their own. I always knew this matter of bloodlines was foolish, but to be this much so? It feels every day I find a new gap between nobility and reality.

    Renner was only two months past her eighth birthday, yet she found herself subject to a cynicism that did not usually come till a point far deeper into a human¡¯s lifespan. It received near subservience from her, and she came at all things with the baseline assumption that they would fail even cursory inspection. This was beginning to fade for her, but that would take time, and she had not quite made the conscious acknowledgement of this coming rebuild of her thinking. As much as she was wont to embrace her hatred of all things king and country, she found herself sickened in the manner of one who gorged on overrich food, and let herself slip into a base enjoyment of the combat before her. It was simply exciting.

    To the surprise of most in the crowd, Gazef broke the stalemate first. A lunge closed the gap between the two faster than the beat of a robin¡¯s wings and Gazef swung his bastard sword in a low arc. Such force was carried in its edge as to inspire awe from even those predisposed to vex at his victories. Brain was not weak, but toned muscles would not beat bulging ones. Taking the blow would lead to bad places, but dodging too would be a fatal error. Lifting a foot from the ground now would inspire ever faster retaliations.

    A grunt slipped from his mouth, and as Unglaus took the blow unmoving, the world seemed to loosen itself a little bit.

    Ah, he used a martial art. That must have been ¡°Fortress¡±, the technique Climb told me about. The one where you channel your Ki to the air around you. Still, how mind-bending to see it used in action.

    Renner felt her heart sink. Climb was a matter she had hoped to avoid dwelling on, but this was an impossible task for her. He was present at this final match of the Grand Tournament, although nowhere near Renner. Having her father by her side completely excluded the potential of her to sit next to a commoner. He was off in the stands, and in a double misfortune for Renner, obscured from her point of view by the walls of her box. She had no doubt he was yielding greater dividends from this generational event than she, but she felt none-the-less distant from him.

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    I can¡¯t believe he no longer wants me to sleep with Climb. Even with respect to the politics of it, why now? Why does age play such a component in our lives? How pure need I be kept for marriage? Aggravating. If only I could ensconce us in one of the secret places of the world. Lo, what a wonderful existence that would be. Just us paired in a depth together.

    Mental drift seemed to align blood and commonality as the concepts of the day, and Renner flitted back to the crowd. This too was split upon matters of blood, the arena split between properly furnished wooden boxes and bleachers of a far more shanty constitution. These were not planned at the outset of preparation to be built, but were rather a begrudging concession of the nobility to their populace. The kingdom was not party to the entertainments of the Empire, and thus any such colosseum would need to be a new construction. Thus was the arena that held the Grand Tournament made, on both a budget and a miser''s eye.

    It''s odd to me how delusional my contemporaries become. The nobles whined and bucked at commoners even being allowed to enter the tournament, and did so doubly when they began to take victories. Why would they expect that the finest warrior in the nation would be high blooded? There are nine-million low bloods in this nation, it would be a fluke of grand magnitude for him not to be counted among that number.

    Gazef did not sit on his advance, and continued to seize ground from Brain. Two more swings of lesser power arced at Unglaus, parrying both blows. The engagement grew swift, and with haste unbound, Brain darted in. Gazef had overextended himself in that moment, leaving a channel through which Unglaus could cut as would a raging river. Blade met flesh of Gazef¡¯s left arm, and unbound its surface.

    That was such a quick attack Gazef wasn¡¯t able to defend with his Ki - or whatever he possesses. Gods, how exciting this match has become.

    Unglaus and Stronoff passed each other with great speed, Unglaus on the followthrough of his attack. Gazef¡¯s elbow shot backward, striking Brain in the small of his back and knocking him from his balance.

    He did that with his wounded arm! I dare not imagine how much that hurt.

    Gazef and Brain spun quickly to face each other again, Gazef resuming his relentless assault on Brain. Three more ki-aided strikes came down upon Brain, who¡¯s defense could no longer be characterized as amazing, but heroic. Gazef¡¯s blade shimmered with the energy of his body, the space between their collisions taking on extreme conditions. Brain did in twain, and his body escalated itself, his skin flushing as he forced his blood vessels to open through the dividends of his bodily control. The air ran thick with the ephemeral, motes of metal dust shed from blades glowing radiant with the raw forces of the world.

    This fight grows long! I did not think this plausible, this is the third distinct flurry of kinesis.

    The character of the scene changed suddenly, Brain¡¯s body seeming to twist instantly. Before Renner¡¯s mind could process it, Gazef was suddenly flung back from his offensive, and a bang rang out from the arena below. It picked up the spent dust of the ground, and for a scant moment a shockwave could be seen propagating from Unglaus¡¯s body. The crowd exploded in noises of confusion and awe.

    So that was his ¡°Flash¡±? Climb gushed to me endlessly about it, but it was truly everything he said. To think it so literally embodied the phrase ¡°lightening fast,¡± even down to the thunder a twip later.

    Unglaus screamed, but the events that had transpired made all those who heard it hear a roar in its place. Brain through constitution of body alone was nearly guaranteed to lose this fight, Gazef bearing a physical endurance that so entirely outstripped him. A second sudden contortion, a second radius of warped air, a second rush of noise. Unglaus struck at the same point twice, breaking Gazef¡¯s sword in two. Blood whipped from the nostrils of Brain, the strain put on his body so great that his insides would have seemed to shred. Lacerations and contusions from the unbearably rapid technique dotted his body. He looked to be in pain greater than anyone in the crowd sans amputees and mothers could imagine. He closed the gap between himself and Gazef one last time, shooting a swift yet conventional strike.

    It¡¯s to be a victory for Unglauss!

    As the blade plummeted towards Gazef¡¯s breast, he yelled with a matching force to his opponent. His broken blade slashed forward to meet Brain¡¯s. It looked as if they would miss, but a new luminance came over its edge, and the fouled blade seemed to grow to its original length, its steel replaced with what appeared as solid light. More fantastically, as they grew closer, the blade began to duplicate itself along three separate parallel axes, weaving what should have been one strike into four. The collision between Unglaus¡¯ curved blade and Stronoff¡¯s ethereal mirror came, and Brain¡¯s sword yielded. His body failed too, and the force of the blow took him off his feet and sent him unceremoniously end-over-end, collapsing to the ground face first with no strength left in his body to break his fall.

    Ah, what a disappointing reversal.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (5)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 13]

    Renner replayed that moment of Gazef¡¯s victory in her mind, pondering its deeper meanings. She was sitting across from him, watching him uncomfortably fidget in one of her chairs. He was overlarge for it, and the hardness of his body contrasted with the elegance of its silken construction. The comic value of this sight was doubled by his holding of a tea cup, him not possessing the wherewithal nor political reserves necessary to refuse her offer of such.

    He has always seemed slightly out of place in the palace, disjoint with its furnishings and gilded halls. Although, the fault of that lies with it, not with him. If he, or his soul could be copied into stone and brought to life again and again, imbued in the breasts of most those I am forced to associate with, my life would lose half its stresses. He is no more intelligent than the nobles who have so forced themselves upon the world, indeed he is equally dull to them, but at least he knows to shut his mouth on matters he knows nothing of. How effective a nation of the humble would be.

    Climb also sat beside her, him to her dexter. He was more practiced at matters such as tea, having long since realized that it made no sense to fight Renner on matters of finery. He had a near conscious inkling of his role not as only a bodyguard, but a dress-up doll for his mistress; one she could play at tea with. Renner had already gone through the trouble of dismissing Maid Nunia, so the triplet found themselves alone.

    I cannot help but wonder what Unglaus would say had he sat here instead. What he would do. I should halt myself before I slip deeper into that line of hypotheticals. It¡¯s idle consideration, and sloth is one thing that the Ruler of Everything will never grant me.

    Gazef¡¯s eyes darted between Renner, Climb, and the spread of food before him. This was a small fare by palace standards, cured meats, cheeses, and some fresh cabbage. A look of stern consideration passed over his face, trying to formulate a sentence. His eyes lit, and he finally found his words and his tongue.

    ¡°Your Highness, if I could speak.¡±

    ¡°Please voice yourself Warrior-Captain.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for such a formal method of address, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Then, Stronoff, are you ok with my body-guard¡¯s presence?¡±

    ¡°Yes of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Then things are well-to-be.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, I must confess that until I spoke with Lakyus a month ago, I did not know you as you are.¡±

    ¡°Many do not see me as such.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and I would like to apologize to you, Your Highness. Please forgive me for such an underestimation of you and your character.¡±

    ¡°There is no need-¡±

    No, humbleness isn¡¯t the correct path here. He is a virtuous man, and has been party to many such false concessions in the past.

    ¡°Well, the Kingdom is in need of a Princess, not another medler among thousands. I have a role to embody, a duty to my bloodline, and to the people themselves. Too many in this kingdom weave political schemes. I could play at that too, but none can do what I do in maintaining stability, in serving as I do. Even if it means being seen as naught but a pretty face, it is a necessary burden to bear. Both for the fair blooded, and the populace. You needn¡¯t apologize Stronoff. I long ago accepted this fate.¡±

    Gazef¡¯s eyes burned, the fire in his breast overcoming him.

    He is a man of valor, of obligation; I should feign such feelings too. This ought to be the better route. Besides, opining about how I must act as a Princess does not fall far from fact. Verisimilitude in all things, no?

    ¡°And yet you found the willpower to fight the institution of slavery?¡±

    Had that been delivered sarcastically, that would have been a brilliant insult. Something Zanac would smith. Sincerity makes such bridges in understanding.

    ¡°Some evils I cannot bear to be left unchallenged.¡±

    Climb breathing was labored, him feeling an overbrimming pride at his Mistress¡¯s words. He looked at Gazef, and was happy to see him also impressed.

    ¡°It feels every time we speak, my impression of you rises higher than I imagined beforehand.¡±

    ¡°You in twain, Warrior-Captain. Now, to the matter at hand; it seems your intuition was correct.¡±

    ¡°...Yes, it was. How did you know, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Zanac loosed his lips on the subject, letting slip the matter of Slane.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. When we arrived in E-Rantel a-¡±

    ¡°You traveled northward to the villages Usamsara and Delkirk. You split your forces there, half returning to the fortress, half proceeding to Carne. Carne waswhere you encountered the enemy, and thankfully defeated them. I had caught a glimpse of the charting that had been conducted, but I do have questions.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that''s correct, we pursued them pretty much as you had outlined. Please ask, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°What was the identity of those you were pursuant to?¡±

    ¡°The Sunlit Scripture, as well as a band of their regulars disguised as Imperial knights. They were no greater than us in strength put together, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°To our luck they were not their duality.¡±

    Their duskly counterparts are busy? To think a plot against Gazef would allow for the sending of the Theocracy¡¯s second best. How little they see him as.

    ¡°I would not disagree, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Pray tell, what were the villages like?¡±

    ¡°They were razed. Usamsara was sundered entirely to the ground when we arrived. Even the stonework chapel had been blown apart. Delkirk was much the same, although we found a family hidden in the attic of a barn that didn¡¯t ignite, Your Highness.¡±

    All three bore sorrowful looks, Renner turning her head away, looking out the window. She forced a few tears to roll down her cheek, pulling in a few sniffles.

    ¡°...Horrifying.¡±

    So such total destruction? Seems strange to have left a barn unlit, perhaps the hay was wet enough to not easily catch. They obviously were thorough in their joykillings, yet only made one pass. They were time-crunched.

    ¡°What of Carne?¡±

    ¡°A different matter, Your Highness. When we arrived, we were greeted with a score of bodies. Many villagers, but the entire complement of false-knights had been killed. We saw from a distance that there was a hulking armored beastfolk, and we had steeled ourselves to fight it. When we got near, however, we encountered a man who controlled it.¡±

    ¡°This being Ainz Ooal Gown?¡±

    ¡°Again you rob the words from my mouth, Your Highness. Yes, the behemoth was, by his words, his creation. Something he made whole-cloth from the body of a knight.¡±

    ¡°A wizard of the dead? Ah, what¡¯s the term- necromancer? I know little of the nomenclature of the dark arts.¡±

    Gazef¡¯s cheek twitched slightly, Renner feeling thrown into a state of imbalance at such a reaction.

    I¡¯ve made an offense against him, but what? It can¡¯t possibly have been a misappropriation of the terminology, no? Ah, perhaps he is chafing against the phrase ¡°dark arts¡±. From his telling, I hazard that he¡¯s about to proclaim Gown the savior of the village. Foolish words Renner. Dealing with the genuine is so difficult.

    ¡°He certainly has knowledge of such arcana, but I wouldn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Characterize him as a dark being. I understand, I apologize for my indiscretion.¡±

    Gazef sat dazed for a moment, simply nodding in affirmation and acceptance of her repentance on such a minor slip of graciousness.

    ¡°So you see him as a man of character?¡±

    Another jump on his face!? What could I have said? Gazef, Gazef, Gazef; you¡¯re such a challenging man! Ah, I am doing so pathetic today.

    Renner sagged, completely unawares of the content of her mistake. She couldn¡¯t help but wear a pained smile, displaying her feelings of shame at whatever new failure she had made.

    ¡°No- Er, yes, I do. Defeating a host of knights is no small task, and to go out of one''s way to save a village under attack from such forces¡­ is much to do for strangers, Your Highness.¡±

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    ¡°You must think highly of him.¡±

    ¡°I do, Your Highness.¡±

    Climb¡¯s face is burning. He¡¯s probably roiling with fantasies of heroism right now, as well as counteracting cascades of guilt at possessing such fantasies in the scope of the material death which has been so outlined before us. I¡¯ll let you have your dances with chivalry and death one day Climb, I promise you.

    ¡°Please, continue.¡±

    ¡°Before I had time to speak with him in full, we were notified that a force of around a dozen had surrounded the village.¡±

    ¡°The Sunlit Scripture?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. I realized then that the force was not Imperial, but rather those of Slane who were seeking me. Sir Gown offered to protect the village, which I accepted. I sent my men away, to avoid their lives being spilt when the Theocracy was only after mine.¡±

    To send his men away on such a matter? How frighteningly dedicated is he to his honor. No, not honor. He genuinely wanted to do what he saw as the correct thing. How foolish.

    Renner paused, and began to review what she had just thought.

    I could never imagine doing such a thing; to so accept death as my fate. To sacrifice myself so that my companions could live. I could see perhaps doing so for Climb. Hm, I¡¯ll need to give this matter more thought later; again, your mechanical hands grip me oh Ruler!

    ¡°I engaged them. The lot of them were divine sorcerers, and they summoned angels to do their bidding.¡±

    ¡°Angels?¡±

    Renner had never given much thought to creatures of the divine, besides an abstract fear of their rath. She had seen the pastiche depictions of such beings on the stained glass windows of a few churches in the city, but to be suddenly struck with a reminder of their reality did indeed overwhelm her.

    I¡¯ve found myself absent the knowledge in many matters today, first in matters of the thaumaturgical and now in the scope of divinity. If anything, today has taught me how dramatically underprepared I am for such matters. Gods! I have so interested myself in matters of politics I have so severely underdeveloped myself in other areas. Never had I imagined needing such a berth of subjects. Shameful. Triplicate failures in one day.

    ¡°They are orderly creatures, Your Highness, made from sharp cuts of¡­ magic. To be honest, they almost look like machines. Nothing like what you would imagine.¡±

    Mechanical embodiments of the heavens? That does not seem unbelievable. An extension of doctrinal perfection into the forms of its arbiters. Interesting.

    ¡°And you defeated them?¡±

    Gazef exhaled, a saddened look coming over his face.

    ¡°It was rough, Your Highness. The mages were at the top of their class, several of them having access to magic of the third tier. Angels are fast, unnaturally so. They dart through the air and you through so easily with their needle-swords. Every time I struck one down, they simply summoned another. Their leader, Nigun, had some much larger one with him, probably twice my height. I- I would have died, had Sir Gown not saved me.¡±

    Renner drew in breath sharply, refusing to release it as a few more tears ran down her face. Climb¡¯s breathing fell into a rigid, mechanical loop, him instinctually organizing his intake of air in such moments of extreme stress.

    He needed rescue? I supposed that he nearly met his end from his condition upon arrival here, but to be outright reduced to such a state¡­ This is a disturbing development.

    ¡°Is- is that true, Warrior-Captain Stronoff?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Adjutant Climb. He saved me. Before the battle, he handed me what he had told me was a trinket of his, as a symbol of luck. He had lied, and it was some magical item. I could not guess the details of it, but he must have been observing me. When I was about to be slain, he and I swapped places suddenly, and I was returned to the village at the spot where he was standing. When he came back, he had slew the whole force of them.¡±

    The room fell into silence. Renner finally felt it time to stop forcing tears, and she took a contemplative sip of her tea. Gazef watched her, overlooking her

    Hm. To think anyone could best Gazef in a matter of combat is disconcerting. Still, from what he was saying, angels were a great danger to him. It''s possible a magic caster would have an easier time of such matters. Slaying a whole scripture though, I¡¯m unsure how much the relative ease of such a matter plays into its occurrence. I remember that name now, Nigun. Lakyus had fought him, and the whole band of the Blue Roses, including Evileye. I remember their vague outline of the event. I¡¯ll need to retrieve specifics from them. It¡¯s possible, although hasty, that the world has gestated a new monster to match Paradyne. Gods, I feel overrun with uncertainty and queries.

    ¡°Gazef, I have many questions.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°What did Sir Gown- no, where did he come from?¡±

    ¡°He said he was a recluse who had been so focused on studying magic that he had forgotten about the world, and had only saved the village when he found it under attack on an outing.¡±

    ¡°Did the villagers know him; rather, know of him?¡±

    ¡°No, it seemed like this was the first they knew of his existence, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Why did he save the village from the knights?¡±

    ¡°He said he was doing so for payment.¡±

    What?! Is he daft? Surely he would know that villagers wouldnt have sufficient capital to pay for such service. No, I shouldn¡¯t make assumptions here. If he truly was a hermit, then there¡¯s no telling what strange beliefs might brew in his head.

    ¡°That makes no sense.¡±

    ¡°I agree, I think he was lying, Your Highness¡±

    Ah, that seems more congruent with things as we know them. It would be a strange lie to tell, but why? Social ineptitude seems a likely culprit, but I¡¯m unwilling to dismiss a greater meaning.

    ¡°Hm, yes I would agree. How old was he?¡±

    ¡°He wore a strange painted mask, I never saw his face. Actually, I never saw any portion of his body. He was covered in a long dark robe, and upon his hands were gauntlets, Your Highness.¡±

    I thought casters wanted their hands free. Wouldn¡¯t such robes be overly restrictive? Ah, this mystery compounds itself.

    ¡°So even the matter of his species is in question?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. Although, he couldn¡¯t have been too exotic; he did after all have two arms, two legs, and a head.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps he wished to hide his form?¡±

    ¡°It does not seem unlikely, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner paused, trying to digest everything she had heard in the last minute.

    Elucidation on these matters will prove difficult, and there is no clear trickery available to draw more information from this. Ah, it seems as if there¡¯s no clear path through. I suppose some more basic questions will need to suffice.

    ¡°So this creature he made, you said it was an undead?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. It stood taller than me, and seemed to possess extreme strength.¡±

    ¡°Did he use it to fight the Scripture, you had only mentioned the knights?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe so. He did so with his companion.¡±

    ¡°A companion?¡±

    Query Gazef. Could not you have mentioned that earlier?

    ¡°Ah! Yes, my apologies, Your Highness. He did bear a companion with him. A woman, I think.¡±

    ¡°Were they also obscured?¡±

    ¡°Completely so, a jet suit of black plate armor. I believe they were female, for their armor bore a feminine form, but I did not get a close look.¡±

    ¡°Was she not there when you arrived?¡±

    ¡°She was, I just didn¡¯t have the chance to interact with her. The men of Slane surrounded us quickly after, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about her.¡±

    ¡°Tall, despite her armor she was lithe. She had a strange way of moving, like her armor weighed nothing to her.¡±

    ¡°A name?¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Your Highness, none that I heard.¡±

    That he had a companion is interesting. A woman doubly so. If she was armored and by his side, then there can be almost no doubt she is his bondswoman. What he¡¯s describing doesn''t sound too far off from a demon or other monster, but asking him that is another matter altogether.

    ¡°Ah, shame. Well, I think we shift to lesser things now. What of the aftermath?¡±

    Gazef may be honorable, but that does not stop him from gullibility too. He already feels defensive about this man, and so much as mentioning his clear involvement in the duskmared matters of etheric knowledge triggered such a powerful rejection from a man who knows how to act as a slave to my father. Problematic. ¡°A strange way of moving¡± means unnatural, but he¡¯s afraid to say as such. I think there¡¯s a greater chance she was monstrous than Ainz. I had never before found use for daemonology or infurnaturgy, but it appears now is the time.

    ¡°Well, to be honest, I fell out cold after he swapped places with me. I didn¡¯t wake till the next day, but the villagers said that he, his companion, and his creature had left. I left, retrieved the few men that had survived the engagement, and headed back to E-Rantel at the fastest pace possible, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°How many survived?¡±

    ¡°Of the score that came with me, three. There was a fourth, but he slipped off his horse on the way back and didn¡¯t survive the fall.¡±

    ¡°Harrowing. I¡¯m sorry warrior-Captain. I cannot imagine what it is like to lose your companions in such a fashion. I¡¯ll see that my father gives you and them commendation for this action. Even if the Nobility Faction falsifies in anger at that, I¡¯ll still do it.¡±

    Gazef looked her in the eye, feeling unsure of what to say. Renner watched his eyes wet, blinking several times to clear them as he looked away. No tears split down from his eyes, but the emotional roil within flashed betwixt the edges of his pupils. He opened and closed his mouth, eventually simply nodding his thanks.

    It¡¯s strange to me, Gazef. How do you not find this act of mine hollow? It¡¯s a truly useless act. It gets those men nothing. Did they not suffer all the same? Did they not die? Are they not now in the pandemoniums of The Great Beyond? My words now are meaningless, as would be any posthumous honor my father gives. How could you see so much death, and yet consider what I said true? You puzzle me Gazef. We are so distant from each other.

    ¡°How could you tell that this was a plot of the nobles?¡±

    ¡°The only thing that makes sense to me, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. How horrid that you could say such a thing and I would find it to be with complete verisimilitude.¡±

    ¡°Nigun had mentioned something along the lines of that, a taunt he loosed. Besides, we were sent understrength for what should have been a much larger response. An Imperial breach of the border should be an act of war, not the sending of a single force.¡±

    Where does my brother stand in this? Delkirk and Usamsara are Harlink¡¯s northmost towns, Carne is the southern extent of Bajan¡¯s. Would not one of them not have dispatched a force? Or, rather, since they did not, were they active conspirators-

    Renner¡¯s inner face twisted into a smile yet again.

    My thoughts yesterday were correct. Neither Lytton nor Boulloup would dare to make such advances on the king, not by their hand; but brother-dearest? Ah, how desperate he must be for the throne; so thirsty must he be for its ambrosias that he would dare to conspire with Slane. Who else has likely realized this? Perhaps no one. If they find themselves unable to draw the true meanings between him, Bajan, Harlink, and his journey eastward two month prior, then there is no chance of it. Bajan and Harlink themselves probably aren¡¯t in on Barbro¡¯s schemes, him simply paying them to not engage Slane. They probably thought he wished to seek greater glory.

    ¡°I feel that alone is proof enough, as does the rest of the faction. In that matter Gazef, we are all behind you.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    What an unusually cunning play, which means it''s not of his mind. It¡¯s not hard to pin this on Boulloup, but there is a none-too-implausible chance that this was a machination from Lytton. Ah, perhaps I ought to consider marrying him instead?

    ¡°Now, Gazef, as much as this was intended as a private council, this was an invitation to tea. Please, eat your fill.¡±

    Tasks upon tasks in the wake of this joining. What advancement is to come from this?

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (6)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 13]

    The sun had set two hours prior, but the riotous noise of the hall remained unabated. Debates, bargains, and negotiations continued even as the umbra fell upon the world. Merchants had spirited discussion, numbers tossed with care between men none-to-focused on anything but coinage. Cutting through the talking was the constant sound of metal striking metal, scales being handled by money changers, gold set upon their trays, weighed and proclaimed, and cleared in preparation for the next transaction. People entered and exited constantly, traders dismounting their carriages, doing their business, and departing. Illithica was not a place beholden to the whils of heavenly bodies, and was one of the few places in Re-Estize, both city and Kingdom, where activity could occur into the long hours of the night, even up till dawn.

    What rabble. Do they have no sense of their status? Why did he want to meet here?

    Barbro was sitting on the fourth, and highest floor. Many merchants traveled from the breadth of the Kingdom to do business here, and would often stay in the city for several days as they drafted, finalized, and executed transactions. The Exchange had thus began to specialize in the business of accommodation. The main hall was a large, open space, with either of its long sides having large, more enclosed structures. The western one was the hotel, and where Barbro currently sat, the balcony of the room itself looking down upon the exchange floor. He could not help but twitch his eyes. He was eye level with one of the chandeliers, its candelabras long since replaced with magical sources of light, and it kept stinging his eyes. He turned his gaze away, waiting for the arrival of his conspirators. Teloran sat across from him, the small circular table providing him with just enough space to eke out a small meal. Barbro had not paid attention to his Adjutant¡¯s choice of food, but now that boredom so gripped him, he couldn¡¯t help but prod.

    ¡°What is that? It smells strange.¡±

    ¡°Paella, Your Highness. There was a small kitchen outside, chef from Roble. Couldn¡¯t pass up the opportunity for it.¡±

    ¡°You enjoy foriegn food? Why?¡±

    Teloran cocked his head slightly.

    ¡°I suppose I never considered it foriegn, Your Highness. I¡¯m from Re-Endra, just south of Re-Lobell. Enough merchants sail up from their north coast.¡±

    I suppose that makes sense; still it reminds me of that fatass brother of mine. He¡¯d gorge himself on that. What is that, rice?

    Barbro was entirely wrong in this assessment. Zanac was completely incapable of consuming spiced food, and could not handle imperial cuisine, much less Robleian. This did not stop him from harboring such feelings of superiority, but their construction was excessively shoddy. In an act of cosmic serendipity to save Teloran from the further side-eyed inquisitions of his master, a knock came at that moment.

    ¡°Enter.¡±

    The door opened, and in walked a tall and thick man. He was a mix of muscle and fat, not yet corpulent, but could turn so with less careful attention paid to his aging. This was Marquis Boullope. At his side was a thinner man, which Barbro did not know.

    ¡°Your Highness, it is good to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Marquis. Who is that man with you?¡±

    He looks like a twig! I¡¯m sure I could break him in two if I tried.

    ¡°Your Highness, this is Mister Amptief Doll. He¡¯s an interested party in this.¡±

    ¡°You may call me Cocco if you wish.¡±

    Is that his entire name? He¡¯s not high blooded.

    ¡°He¡¯s not titled? Marquis, explain this. Who is he?¡±

    ¡°Apologies, Your Highness. I¡¯m a servant of a merchant group which has been affected by the policies of your esteemed sister, the Golden Princess. We are interested in their repeal.¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t call her ¡°esteemed¡±, much less ¡°Golden¡±. Being a meddling bitch shouldn¡¯t have earned her any praise.

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking of the slavery ban? Godsdammit Boullope, why should I care about this?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s willing to put up the capital for such efforts.¡±

    You should have opened with that! Why not simply say that from the beginning and save me the trouble? I¡¯m surrounded by fools.

    ¡°That¡¯s a different matter. Find your seats and let''s begin.¡±

    Boullope and Cocco Doll both sat deeper into the room, taking their rest on a couch. Boullope spoke first.

    ¡°So, Your Highness, I¡¯ve heard some things from Vellen, but even the maidstaff had stated such. I¡¯m told that the vaunted Warrior-Captain of this great nation of ours rode in through the palace gates very much alive.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Actually, I was hoping to get a clear answer from you. How is this possible? You said collaborating with the Theocracy was a safe bet.¡±

    This is an incompetence on your part!

    ¡°It was, Your-¡±

    ¡°It clearly wasn¡¯t, otherwise he would be in the fucking ground! Let me remind you Marquis that I had made arrangements with Harlink and Bajan for securing that land, and for them to bear the loss of a few villages, all of which I had to make out of my own pocket! I expect compensation for that.¡±

    ¡°The costs you incurred by failing to get your sister¡¯s assent for a marriage are not my fault. I had assumed the risk of reaching out to those southern theocrats in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Damn wrong you don¡¯t owe me simply because you contacted them. I am out over seven platinum standards because of this! I want you to explain why, in detail, Slane failed to send him to the next life!¡±

    What is that look on his face for? That smirk?

    ¡°I am trying, Your Highness. Like I said, I have heard some things from the Knight-Lord, but he and I have not had the chance to meet in person. Let us cool ourselves. Who is this Ainz Ooal Gown?¡±

    ¡°Some blasted magic caster. He intervened to save Gazef¡¯s life.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, why did you not catch this two months prior during your scouting?¡±

    ¡°Gods dammit, I was searching the countryside, not combing the Great Forest of Tob. He¡¯s just some hermit that lives in the woods! How was I supposed to catch this? An errant variable that couldn¡¯t have been predicted. I want to know why the Theocracy could not deal with him! Aren¡¯t they all wizards and sorcerers anyway?! How could a single magic caster go up against the several dozen they were supposed to be sending? Explain!¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, your anger is misdirected. They were the ones that gave you that sword as promise, not I. I am trying to demand answers now, but their underhands are dodging me. This will take time. Now please, let us return to the subject at hand.¡±

    ¡°Fine, ask your questions.¡±

    ¡°How narrow was the captain¡¯s survival?¡±

    ¡°Very. I could count the tatters in his plate where he was run through. Had that mage not intervened, he would have been dead.¡±

    ¡°Such go the throws of the iron dice. To think he rolled a hard six in this Ainz fellow.¡±

    I have no earthly idea what that metaphor is supposed to mean. Zanac does that to me all the time. It''s almost overwhelming.

    Barbro could not help but blanch. He never would have admitted it to anyone besides himself, but he knew that his brother outpaced him in intellect. This was obvious enough from the way he talked, and Barbro had long ago learned that being quick-witted granted a person a measure of intelligence. Watching his brother weave insults was itself an enjoyable experience (at least when they were not directed to his personhood), and he could not help but wonder every time his brother opened his mouth if he was not secretly biting at others. Strangely, when he had confronted his brother about this in their boyhood, he had insisted that of all people, Renner was the smartest in the family.

    What did he ever mean by that? She¡¯s daft, but to go so far as to call her a ¡°monster¡±? It confuses me; she¡¯s just a lovesick teenage girl. I suppose even geniuses like my brother have their delusional moments. Now I bet he could become a dedicated magic caster if he tried, he must have the mind for it. It would be nice to keep him as a court wizard cross advisor once that impotent father of mind loses his head. I¡¯ll build an empire to rival that of Nix, they¡¯ll all see.

    ¡°Why would they fuck us over like this, sending their second best for the matter of Gazef? No matter what this Ainz could have done, I doubt he would have been able to stand against the black scripture.¡±

    ¡°Slane¡¯s failure is troubling, but we shouldn¡¯t dwell on it. We need to move past it, Your Highness. There are other ways of getting to our goals.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why you can dismiss their breaking of a pact so easily, but fine. Do you have any other schemes up your sleeve?¡±

    ¡°Actually, yes. That¡¯s why I invited Amptief.¡±

    Whoever this man is, if he can be used to source violence, then that would be a very fortuitous thing indeed.

    ¡°Hm. Speak.¡±

    ¡°As I said earlier Your Highness, I represent a merchant interest in ridding this nation of the slavery ban which your estemed sister so foolishly pushed to implement. I am willing to front most of the cost of acquiring a band of wetworkers for whatever purpose his highness so desires.¡±

    ¡°Even for killing Gazef?

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I find it hard to believe there are many in the Kingdom who would take such a request, much less be able to fulfill it. Doubly so after this last failure.¡±

    ¡°There are some. Red Drop comes to mind.¡±

    What?! They¡¯re above-board adventurers! Say what you will about those mercenaries, their guild prohibits those sorts of acts.

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous! They¡¯re adventurers, not assassins. Boullope, explain why I should be listening to this drivel.¡±

    ¡°Let him continue, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Who else could possibly threaten Gazef?! It¡¯s not like we could hire the Blue Roses! That strikes both Adamantite teams.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, have you heard the name Six Arms.¡±

    What in the blazes is Six Arms?

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Of course I have! Do you take me for some kind of fool?¡±

    ¡°We hire them.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ Perhaps you explain to my Adjutant these ¡®Six Arms¡¯¡±

    Cocco Doll smirked and nodded, Boullope and Teloran adopting faces as cold and unmoving as ice. Cocco Doll turned to Teloran, speaking his next words with ill-disguised upward pitch belying the riotous laughter in his soul.

    ¡°Knight Teloran, as I¡¯m sure you''re aware, Six Arms is a rogue adventurer team. Like Imperial ¡®Workers¡¯, they¡¯ll take any job as long as it pays. Rumor has it they¡¯re a match for either of the Aindra¡¯s, Lakyus or Azuth.¡±

    How am I only hearing this now?! A third adamantite team that would take any job?! Boullope you bastard! Why did we not go with them beforehand instead of fucking around with those pansies from the Theocracy?

    Barbro glared at Boullope, unsure what specifically for but certain that some part of his current embarrassment was the fault of the Marquis. For his part, he remained stone faced.

    ¡°They sound adequate for the tasks. What are your terms, Mister Doll?¡±

    ¡°We expect them to charge around ten standards for the work, Your Highness. We and our associated interests pay six, you and the Marquis front four.¡±

    ¡°Three.¡±

    ¡°We are assuming additional risk by making contact, three and three fourths.¡±

    ¡°Three and three thirds.¡±

    Teloran choked on his meal, loudly coughing. Cocco Doll had never exercised such self control in his life.

    ¡°We find that acceptable, Your Highness. We¡¯ll handle contacting Six Arms, and we¡¯ll send them after Gazef and his men.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re paying them so much, why not go after my father directly? I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Boullope finally broke, his thin run patience finally at its end.

    ¡°Your Highness, we need to be subtle about these things. That was the point of the Theocracy, was that we could pin this on a separate power. We simply get the Warrior-Captain out of the picture, and then as planned originally, send a more minor assassin to your father and pin it on an Imperial. Ambassador Mercat, most likely.¡±

    ¡°Hm, fine. Finish your offer Doll.¡±

    ¡°In exchange, when you become King, you repeal the ban on slavery, and perhaps lighten some of the restrictions placed on the trade of Black Dust. Do you accept these conditions, Your Highness?¡±

    Barbro leaned back, considering what had just been said to him.

    Such a complex plan; still, all the better to avoid its discovery. My head is spinning. When I heard the original scheme to dethrone my father, I thought it was maze-like too. Boullope delivered his arguments so convincingly, I could not help but believe in them. Yet it failed, and the Warrior-Captain is still alive. How troubling. It''s not as if the circumstances with this Ainz fellow can be replicated, not unless he shows up here in the capital to save Gazef¡¯s life a second time. I can¡¯t help but feel as if I¡¯m missing something. Maybe I ought to speak to Zanac on this matter, and draw his thoughts. I suppose if I¡¯m soon to become king, I should offer him concessions to get him on my side. I¡¯m getting a grip here; what a magnanimous leader I¡¯ll be!

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±

    ¡ª [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 14]

    A two tone ringing broke the silence that had so gripped the room. Its source was a small bell that hung above the door, bouncing back and forth as if it was being tugged by an invisible string.

    Now of all times? Gods¡­

    ¡°Good souls know no rest but death.¡±

    Lakyus cursed silently to herself, and after a moment of trepidation, drew herself up from the bath. She had hoped to keep her body submerged in its warm embrace a little longer than the two minutes she had just enjoyed, but that bell meant she was needed, and she was above all else dedicated to her comrades'' calls to aid. Lakyus was a noblewoman first, and bathing was an indelible part of hearth and home. This entailed many things for her - salts, tonics, and candles - and she was loath to let her moment of relaxation slip from her grasp. She received no small amount of teasing from her teammates for this, Tina, Tia, and especially Gagaran finding her self-pampering rituals beyond hilarious.

    It¡¯s ludicrous to me that none of them ever bathe. Tina and Tia at least let themselves get wet in the rain, but Gagaran doesn¡¯t even do that. The only time she gets cleaned is when Evileye gets fed up with her oder and casts tier magic at her.

    The cold of the room was starting to bite. Lakyus threw her legs over the lip of the tub and walked over to the wall of the room. There her towel sat on a relatively recent purchase of hers, a towel rack. This Lakyus had also endured teasing for, but a swift gut punch on Gagaran had earned her a modicum of silence on the issue.

    Drying herself, she looked at the bell with not insignificant annoyance. It was linked to a network of magical tripwires and alarm spells that surrounded their keep, weaving wholly on the part of Evileye. She had muttered something about its necessity, grumbling something to the order of ¡°I¡¯ve been snuck up on in the past, I¡¯m not going to let that happen again.¡± Through various combinations of inflection, the system could communicate alarms of intrusion, detections on outlying sensor-nets, and most everything in between. The two tones that had just rung indicated the approach of someone to the front entrance. Lakyus knew she ought not to have hated it (of which she did plenty when a mana-backlash along some nearby ley line tripped every alarm at once), but in this moment it had robbed her of its relaxation.

    Now mostly dried, she dressed herself carefully, avoiding tender spots from this week¡¯s adventures. She had taken a kick from an overzealous assassin two days ago in a raid on a house Renner had said was likely being used as a smuggling den. She had been - of course - correct in this deduction, so when Lakyus burst into the room, she had interrupted a game of cards conducted entirely by hardened criminals. The resulting melee was unusually long, and in it she took a rib shattering blow. The man who did it was dead before the next ten seconds were up, but that did not reverse the course of events which led to her current suffering. Her whole body was gripped by some degree of pain: bruises, contusions, simple soreness, and her period compounded upon her. This summation of factors had been the impetus behind the bath, and a now dressed Lakyus looked back at the tub forlornly as she left the room.

    The keep itself had fallen into the hands of the Blue Roses through a series of coincidences, having been granted it in lue of coinage for a noble who found themself suddenly short of liquidity. It had initially seemed like more of a liability for the team, but Lakyus had finangled her connections with the local count to gain a proper deed to it, and force their previous client to bring the dilapidated structure up to a livable standard. When that had finally been completed, the Blue Roses found themselves in possession of what quickly became for them, hallowed ground. Lakyus descended from the second of three floors onto the first, and found all four of her companions waiting in the entrance hall.

    ¡°Evileye, who¡¯s coming.¡±

    ¡°A carriage and triplet of riders.¡±

    ¡°You recognize them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, obviously. That''s why I haven¡¯t told you.¡±

    Lakyus simply let her face blank as a response, not having words to deal with her companion¡¯s sarcasm. In habit, she began to strap on her weapon. The chances of those approaching having hostile intent was near nil, but it still was prudent to don equipment in front of clientele. In short, it made them look powerful, helping to assure nobles or merchants of their decision to request the services of an apex team. She had left her floating blades upstairs, but this was no issue, and she navigated them off their rack blindly in a move she had performed so many times as to be rote.

    The band of travelers rode past a small wooden perimeter fence, and halted ten yards from the entrance, the Blue Roses finding their egress to greet them. Catching the dawn sun in her eye, Lakyus began to realize something strange.

    They aren¡¯t local nobles, otherwise we would have recognized them. They must have ridden through the night, implying urgency to their mission. Still, why are they here and not at the guild? And besides, if that was the only circumstance, they would have sent a rider along with an escort or two to fend off highwaymen. There¡¯s no reason for them to be followed by a carriage, unless the lord of the house is with them. For him to travel with haste is strange, meaning that he has a request for us that he¡¯s not willing to trust a messenger with. It¡¯s a secret mission that must be completed urgently and without the eyes of the guild¡­

    Lakyus¡¯s eyes widened. She pivoted to her left seeing Gagaran, Tina, and Tia were visibly confused by the site, unsure of what to think at the sudden appearance of a client. Evileye¡¯s thoughts were uncharacteristically clear, her also spinning in place to look Lakyus in the eye. Lakyus leveled her gaze at the lost members of her team, and spoke in a voice low enough to remain unheard by the riders dismounting their horses.

    ¡°This is what Renner predicted.¡±

    ¡°Be careful, whoever this is was in-bed deep with our enemy.¡±

    The eyes of their slower comrades filled with understanding, and the entire team slipped into a more attentive posture. Lakyus felt her blades twitch, Evileye¡¯s silent casting of spells pulling on the invisible expanses of mana.

    Whoever this is was a former collaborator of Eight Fingers, whose life is in near immediate danger.

    The head rider finally had both his feet planted on the ground, and he cast his gaze at the rising sun. The light of the dawn caught the grasses that surrounded the keep and glimmered in ever more beautiful ways. The planes-grasses surrounding them were luminant, waving and shimmering in the rays, a sight that would have inspired those creatives so inclined to enshrine its beauty as pigments on canvas. Such a depiction was already the subject of a commission Lakyus had ordered, less out of necessity and more to support an artist they were considering making their bard. He drank his fill of the landscape, walking to the five of them and preparing his introduction.

    ¡°Presenting to the honored and storied warriors of the Blue Rose, Count Yellna Namara Pell Fenthrop.¡±

    ¡°Why did you come here unannounced? If you wish to acquire our services, the way to do so is to lodge a request with the guild.¡±

    Lakyus had already guessed at the answers to this question, but it was best for the image of her and her comrades to play a no nonsense facade.

    ¡°Lord Fenthrop  is here to seek your aid, Lady Aindra of the Blue-¡±

    Even if this sort of event wasn¡¯t wholly unexpected, grating undersells the frustration I feel at this arrival.

    ¡°This is an unacceptable act on the part of the Count.¡±

    ¡°Please, Lady Aindra! We departed with haste to meet you here, our need-¡±

    ¡°Dire circumstances are best left to the Guild. A rider from them would have taken less time than the arrival of the Lord and his servants.¡±

    He blanched, clearly not expecting such resistance on the part of the Blue Roses. He turned around to see his master descending down the steps of the carriage. He was middle aged; a balding man with an unimpressive build. His clothing was not overly ostentatious, but inspection of the leathers and build would none-the-less reveal quality construction. As he touched the ground, he turned his head to the quintet.

    ¡°Please forgive me for the impropriety of my underling, Lady Aindra.¡±

    ¡°It is not his rudeness that I find myself offended at, Lord Fenthrop.¡±

    ¡°Then I apologize for my own; you must understand, my need is desperate and secret!¡±

    He¡¯s willing to admit that so easily? No, not only that, but he fears going through the guild. Why?

    ¡°We charge double for secret things.¡±

    Gagaran¡¯s interjection was well timed, a negotiation tactic that Rigrit had drilled into her skull before leaving her place to Evileye in the group.

    ¡°Then whatever is necessary!¡±

    Each of the Blue Roses stiffened, all feeling a degree of shock at the display of the Count. Evileye took action first.

    ¡°Fly.¡±

    She shot upward with great speed, accelerating so suddenly as to cause the head rider to jerk his body back. Climbing to a height of nearly twenty stories, she removed a telescoping spyglass from a satchel hidden under her robes and extended it. Killing her upward acceleration, she spun in place as she reached the apex of her ascent, sweeping her gaze over the fields surrounding the keep, peering down the road they approached from into the deep far-field. Clacking her heels as she did so, she dropped her spell and let herself fall to Earth, only breaking her fall with a last second expenditure of mana.

    ¡°There are two horses with saddlebags tied to a post six miles to the south. I could see no riders, it¡¯s likely they¡¯re approaching under cover of the plains grass.¡±

    ¡°Count, it seems you are a wanted man. We can discuss more inside.¡±

    The realization that skulks were truly in pursuit of him caused the Count to go white, and he and his retenue hastily approached the door. Tina opened it for the group, and the count, his four men, and the five members of the Blue Roses entered inside, the women making sure to not turn their back on the field surrounding the keep. Once the knights finished tying their horses, they walked swiftly inside. The ground was thankfully hard, and they tracked little mud into the entrance hall. Lakyus led them to the immediate right into a room, half dining-space, half place to meet. A long wooden table sat in the center of the room, matching its rectangular shape. All ten present found seats, each group sitting opposite the other.

    ¡°Lord Fenthrop, we take none-too-kindly to those who track shadows into our midst, particularly to such an isolated location of ours. Please explain.¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra, I am being stalked by assassins from Eight Fingers. I wish to request your services to fend them off.¡±

    ¡°Why not go to the guild?¡±

    ¡°The guild is penetrated by their spies!¡±

    ¡°And you know that how?¡±

    ¡°Because up until a few days ago I was in league with them!¡±

    Another wave of shock rolled over the Blue Roses. Such admissions of treachery came sparingly in this line of work. Lakyus found it hard to disguise her disgust at the man¡¯s words, and made no attempt to do as such, speaking in a biting and derisive tone.

    ¡°You speak with an odd candor for a nobleman, what you just confessed too is an act of treason.¡±

    ¡°So I will be branded a traitor but I will not be dead!¡±

    ¡°Why are they sending wetworkers in pursuit of you?¡±

    ¡°Godsdammit the entire organization is falling apart!¡±

    What?! That¡¯s impossible. He can¡¯t seriously mean that can he?

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°There are assassinations, murder left and right! A divisional head was killed! Turmoil at every level. Now someone is after me!¡±

    That makes no sense, how could that be? We¡¯ve done nowhere near enough damage for that. Renner¡¯s latest estimation as to their number was thirty-five thousand! No, perhaps the organization is for the most-part fine, but to a contact on the outside, watching a few loose ends get snipped was enough to inspire terror.

    ¡°Why should we help a criminal dodge his due?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ll tell you everything I know!¡±

    Ah, now you have yourself a listener Count.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (7)

    Hilma pulled a puff from her pipe and immediately regretted it. A coughing fit broke out as she desperately tried to push the smoke from her lungs.

    Oh this is truly rank! Who the fuck recomended this to me? Was it Gellon? Gods that man must have mithril lungs because this is horrible.

    ¡°You ok sweetie?¡±

    ¡°Fuck- y-you.¡±

    ¡°Now now, you can¡¯t get too snippy with me. You ought to be thanking me for what I¡¯ve done.¡±

    Hilma expelled the last of the miasma from her lungs, pulling in several deep breaths as surety for her body¡¯s hunger for air. She snuffed her churchwarden with her nearest snuffer, itself a white marble utensil encoiled by an elegant gilding in the shape of a snake. She raised her gaze to meet that of her counterpart, Cocco Doll looking back at her with an upturned brow. The events of the past two months had placed them in close proximity to each other, and they had developed a working rapport. It was thus that she understood his action as jest, but even then she found it difficult to draw the true meaning of the gesture.

    ¡°How did the council with our esteemed ¡®King to be¡¯ go?¡±

    ¡°He can¡¯t do math.¡±

    ¡°What? Cocco-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. We were negotiating the money we would front, and he negotiated his share up.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?!¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say as such?¡±

    Her astonished silence lasted for a twip, before she began to laugh harder than she had in years. This served to aggravate the latent pain in her airway, but she could not care; completely losing herself in the moment.

    ¡°How?!¡±

    ¡°Fractions. He doesn¡¯t understand fractions.¡±

    ¡°Oh my Gods. Oh my- Are we sure we aren¡¯t doing business with the wrong brother?¡±

    ¡°Honestly Hilma¡­ It¡¯s not off the table.¡±

    Hilma paused, realizing that Cocco Doll was not playing with his words.

    ¡°If he¡¯s that gullible¡­¡±

    This could be a genuine risk, no? Any silver-a-dozen schemer could probably draw any such answer out of him.

    ¡°I feel similar. In any case, our course of action is the same.¡±

    ¡°Hm, perhaps so.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no possibility for us to suddenly throw ourselves behind Zanac; even if there was-¡±

    ¡°It would be unideal. Yes, I agree Doll. Do you know if he¡¯s close with his brother?¡±

    ¡°More likely, the matter of significance would be if his brother is close to him.¡±

    ¡°True¡­¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t imagine having a man like Barbro as a brother.¡±

    ¡°So, in plain language, no?¡±

    ¡°It would be implausible.¡±

    Zanac does seem to be the wisest among that generation Royal Family. Barbro is a well-established dullard, as is Renner. She¡¯s almost a picture perfect airhead, no? Ironically, she has made the most accomplishments of any of them compared to the baseline. She managed to ban slavery, a not insigificant boon to her popularity. The minor margrave-harking actions of Barbro can in no way compare, and I don¡¯t think Zanac or the other two sisters have done anything of note besides get married. Ah the Vaiself bloodline runs thin.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to discuss the merits of a King Valleon instead of an Andrean another time.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. In brass tacs, he assented to assassination, as did Boullope.¡±

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ve determined your identity?¡±

    ¡°Unlikely; Boullope may suspect along those lines-¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not as if that matters.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Say Hilma, are we not getting into the habit of finishing each other''s sentences?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, shame we share the same taste in men, lest we could make a reasonable coupling.¡±

    They shared laughter, although noticeably falser than before. Hilma was partial to Cocco Doll, but no more. Divisions were at their core, rivals of one another. No matter how closely the interests of two aligned, no bond deeper than a base utilitarian need could be forged. There could be no friends in such a life as the one they shared.

    Still, it has not stopped us from making ever deeper ties, especially in the sight of our shared rivals. It seems our organization is adopting ever new forms.

    The phase of Eight Fingers was beginning to shift. Nearly unimaginable a year prior, a series of events ignited the metamorphic fires of organizational shift. Starting with the slavery ban that earned Renner her epiphet as golden, the complete erradication of the rebellion in Re-Uloval, the sudden assaults from the Blue Rose, and a number of smaller events that became too numerous to count, clear lines of division were forming within the organization. The general outline of such were those that had sought to provide aid to the now ailing Slavery Division, those being Gambling and Narcotics. Oddly enough, Internal Security did so as well, throwing their swords and fists on the scales in favor of the newly forming group. The fact that this group contained three members who were relatively young, a woman, an open homosexual, and three members who willfully flaunted tradition had caused them to earn the derisive term ¡°reformist.¡± Hilma and Cocco doll took to the term, and they flung back the label of ¡°traditionalist.¡±

    ¡°What are the actual expenses we expect to pay?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll pay four standards, which is fine. I imagine Zero won¡¯t want more than seven for the work, so at most we¡¯re out three.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. He¡¯s lowered his rates lately.¡±

    ¡°His blind bloodlust has its advantages for us, no?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. He must be savoring the violence as of late.¡±

    This had only escalated with the death of Unruh. The events of the four weeks prior to his death had put each member of the nine-fold table in mind of a paranoia. It had so gripped them that many of their underbosses, capos, and otherwise found themselves on the wrong-end of the knives they had so wielded against others. The most dramatic of these purges had been a spellborne court market bombing conducted by an overzealous member of the assassin division, who himself woke up dead on the aftermorrow. Following Unruh¡¯s presumably torturous death at the hands of Six Arms, many had expected the attacks to abate, and when they instead escalated, tensions compounded. It was becoming increasingly clear that Hilma either lied about Unruh, or that there was more than one pair of eyes through which Lady Aindra could peer. Both possibilities introduced unique problems and solutions.

    ¡°Oh, yes, speaking of which.¡±

    ¡°What is it, Doll?¡±

    ¡°One of Banking¡¯s marks flipped.¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Oh really? Who?¡±

    ¡°Fenthrop.¡±

    ¡°The Count or the Baron?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a Baron Fenthrop?¡±

    ¡°Deep in the westlands, I would be surprised if they weren¡¯t related.¡±

    ¡°Noble bloodlines are so asinine¡­ But yes, ¡®Count¡¯ Fenthrop.¡±

    The situation had been made ever more explosive by the sudden implosion of the banking division following Unruh¡¯s death. Each head had sought to create scores of dead as a result of the intra-divisional cleansings, thinning the upper ranks precipitously and leaving the pinnacle of each group ill-supported. At the three meetings since his death, a new member had sat in the Banking chair each time, slowly descending in rank for each new iteration of the leadership. The current head was a thirty something by the name of Gellen, himself having only been a vice-captain two months prior.

    Soon that seat will be filled by a branch manager. We needed only to kick the door in for it all to collapse, no?

    ¡°The cause of his betrayal?¡±

    ¡°The collapse of the banking division has left a lot of people skittish; he probably heard something from whatever replacement handler he got, misinterpreted it as a threat, and ran. Him trying to flee has put him in actual danger.¡±

    ¡°Ironic.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it. Say, have you had many issues?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t possibly be so bold as to ask that. Who¡¯s running him down?¡±

    ¡°Assassination. Though, I doubt they¡¯ll get him.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Cocco Doll raised an eyebrow in response, looking quizzically at Hilma.

    ¡°Oh you gotta be shitting me. Really?¡±

    Fenthrop is in the company of the Blue Roses?!

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°Godsdammit.¡±

    What more information will land in their hands this time? Obviously there¡¯s still an ear for them somewhere in the upper ranks, but who? Gods, we have so many problems to clean up. Worse, everyone is running bottom heavy. Fuck, this is becoming a headache.

    ¡°What does he know?¡±

    ¡°Likely nothing significant-¡±

    ¡°We say that every time someone gets nabbed, yet we still get hit in ever worse ways. They clearly aren¡¯t pulling that much information from them. I mean for fucks sake, every time they sieze someone, they simply release them into the prison system where Zero and his ilk pick them up. From those reports he sends, you¡¯d think the Blue Roses would have run out of viable information a month ago.¡±

    ¡°...Mhmm. It¡¯s frustrating.¡±

    It feels like we¡¯re getting completely outmaneuvered. Unruh was a fun fiction to create, but I genuinely thought that Captain I knocked off, Melnan, was the rat. Who could it be?

    ¡°Well, I should be off.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you have business to attend to? Do tell.¡±

    ¡°Ah, as if I could fulfill your request.¡±

    ¡°Indeed; see you at the next general council, Doll.¡±

    ¡°You too, Cygnaeus.¡±

    Cocco Doll stood and exited her office, her exhaling as the door closed. Hilma needed to relax.  She began to think of solutions to her quandaries, using the intermittent time to dump the contents of her pipe into a wastebasket. Most of the half-burnt leaf disposed of, she began to clean the bowl with a cloth, returning the wood lacquer to its glossy sheen. Spinning her chair round, she rolled to a collection of small urns, picking a smooth blend to round out the afternoon. She picked up a sparker, an arcane contraption she had bought at her last flit to Arwintar. Using it, she lit the leaf, let the flame consume it for a moment, and pulled in a tentative puff. Satisfied, she pulled in deeper, blowing a ring as a mark of her ability. Smoking was more than a base vice for her, it was contemplative.

    There are three possibilities here. One, the mole is already dead, and attacks will taper off. Two, the mole is alive, and attacks will continue until they are dead. Three, there are multiple moles, and multiple people need to be put down. One is so hopeful as to be entirely untrue. Three seems unlikely too, I don¡¯t see how any group of individuals could have so entirely dodged suspicions with organizational paranoia being what it is right now.

    This was a conclusion that Hilma had already reached weeks ago, but all her investigations into the matter were frighteningly inconclusive. There was no evidence that pointed to anyone specific; worse, it seemed like everyone who could have been collaborating had already been killed. Hilma looked at the stack of letters on her desk; interrogation reports, Laira crop surveys, and monthly updates abounded, overflowing in her inbox. She had been putting off fighting her pile down, but she needed too now lest she mark herself unfit for her position. She began to work.

    ¡°Report from Jeln¡­ Buds are underdeveloped, unlikely to be quality¡­ recommend burning the crop.¡± ¡°We present an offer to you¡­ twenty gold coins per standard of Black Dust.¡± ¡°Distribution networks remain stalled by blockade at¡­ Recommend avoiding and using alternate routes...¡± ¡°...Captain Kelda is confirmed to be dead¡­ Ledger missing from site¡­¡± ¡°...Unruh¡¯s assets in E-Pespel to be managed by¡­ through the duration of the crisis¡­¡± No, wait. That last letter. What did that say?

    Hilma retrieved the previous letter she had read from the burn pile. It was a report from one of her spies embedded deep in the Gambling Division. As much as she liked Noah Zweden, this did not abate her need for all possible information, and this necessitated such tradecraft. She had skimmed it before, but now felt the need to read it in full.

    ¡°Number of shifts have occurred in Gambling Division Structure. Pertaining to the raid on the joint effort between Gambling and Slavery in Re-Alberg on Lower Wind Thirty, Gambling Division Captain Ale Opdun Nane Kelda (Note: false baron) confirmed to have been at the site at the time. Disappeared after the raid. Gambling Internal Security found lead as to his location on Upper Fire Four, found him on Upper Fire Seven. Captain Kelda is confirmed to be dead, body found rotting in creek four miles south. Is believed that Captain Kelda was in possession of a transaction ledger at the time of the raid. This contained sum total transaction records for the activities of the Gambling Division from dates Upper Wind Twelve to day of raid.-¡±

    Total transaction records for two months?! Good Gods, that''s horrid.

    ¡°-Ledger missing from site, is likely Blue Roses have seized it. Divisional Head Noah Zweden is aware of this. No recommended action. Gambling division has practiced record encryption for the last two years.¡±

    Hilma leaned back in her chair, rapping her fingers against her desk. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling of her room, her eyes tracing circles around the engraved copper plates which - although only exposed on the ceiling - ran the breadth of the room¡¯s walls. These shielded the space from divination magics, and she considered this quirk of her own information security as she evaluated Noah¡¯s tactics.

    Encryption, eh? I think I remember that from an old report, one of uh- oh who was it? Ah, one of Nelara¡¯s finds. Brings back memories, she was a good woman. A shame Assassination got to her. She didn¡¯t deserve that fate.

    Hilma waxxed nostalgically about her old underling, a woman she had come to respect as an equal, even if lower in rank. She ran close to death one too many times, and the cold talons of the next life had finally grabbed her, pulling her into the ground never to be spoken to or laughed with again. Hilma withdrew a key nestled in a hidden pocket in her evening-gown, and used it to unlock a desk drawer. Inside was a thick, tome-like compendium. She withdrew it, and brought it close to her mouth.

    ¡°Aiwenor.¡±

    With those words, an engraving on the book flashed, briefly casting room in a sharp luminance. Had she not spoken that name, the book would have ignited upon its opening, burning to a cinder before any of its contents could have been read. Hilma had a childhood fascination with the myth of the Eight Greed Kings, and even now she fantasized about making a pilgrimage south to see the city in the sky itself, Eryuentiu. It was thus that she selected its elvish name as the code phrase for her innermost records. She opened the book and flipped through it to the notes she had kept on the division. She found the passage she was looking for, a clipping of an old intelligence report.

    ¡°Believed that gambling employs ISHS-4¦Ë.¡± That''s ¡®Imperial Security Bureau Standard Four¡­¡¯ something. Ah I need to remember my elvish alphabet; ¡°¦Ë¡± is hyarmen, I think.

    Hilma cocked her head, trying her best to remember what she had learned from a crash course in Imperial Cryptography.

    That method is fairly secure, especially for encrypting large amounts of records. Each new entry to a ledger is case shifted from a table in a unique way, vowels and consonants separately. Each case shift is consecutive, building on the others. Takes little work to encrypt a very vast amount of information. Still, it is technically possible for someone to rebuild the shift table if they have a seed of what, four entries? Or rather, if they could manually descramble four entries with frequency analysis. I imagine it wouldn¡¯t be possible for the Blue Roses to do as such, that would require a fairly gifted mathematician. Still, if they could, that record could be devastating to the entire divisional operation. Hell, even the joint payments we made to Count Fellenor could be indicted. The courier to him was intercepted last week by-

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    Hilma swallowed, suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of anxiety. She took a hit from her pipe, and then a much longer one, realizing with a start that she had missed a potential method of intrusion.

    Possibility four, there is no mole. Whoever is feeding information, providing targets, and directing the Blue Roses is doing so through scraps of information alone. Is that even plausible? They must have significant backing, a number of people behind them for the amount of information they must have acquired. They¡¯ve done what, near forty interrogations? Gods, are they receiving support from the ISH itself? That would solve the manpower problem. No, there would be financial trails for that, and I don¡¯t see a reason for El-Nix to want to hunt us here. We probably help advance his goals simply by existing. Slane is also a possibility, but from my understanding the vaunted youthful Aindra has a long standing rivalry with them. It would need to be someone they visit on a common basis.

    Hilma sighed to herself, realizing she had much work in front of her. She sifted once again through her burn pile, looking for the latest report on the movements of the Blue Roses.

    They visit the palace often enough, ostensibly social calls to the Golden Princess. They must be using it as an opportunity for council. I¡¯ll need to figure out who they¡¯re in league with. Gods that¡¯s clever. Why didn¡¯t I think of this before? I suppose no one would suspect using the Princess as cover. That¡¯s cold-blooded of Lakyus; building a fake and, among the nobility, well-known friendship with Renner. I¡¯m almost impressed.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (8)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    Climb adjusted himself, then did so again. He waited in it for thirty seconds, and then twisted again. He tried several more configurations of his body before giving up, eventually laying flat on his back, and chuckling to himself.

    This bed is too soft. I can¡¯t find a single comfortable position. It¡¯s kind of ironic, but this is the opposite of a problem I would ever expect myself to have.

    Climb could easily divine Renner¡¯s thought process in selecting this mattress for him, and he found it unbelievably endearing.

    She wanted me to have a comfortable bed, and because she finds her incredibly soft bed comfortable, she assumed that¡¯s what I would like. So when she went to purchase this one, she got one as soft as hers. I¡¯ve been sleeping on one of the bunks in the guardhouse for what, six years now? Those things are practically stone slabs, but it¡¯s what I''ve gotten used to.

    He covered his eyes with his hands and laughed a bit, finding her innocence and naivety not only cute, but humorous.

    Of course she would get me something like this. Gods, what a fretting mistress she is.

    Climb gave up altogether on getting rest and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Standing, he walked to the other end of his room. He was still getting used to the concept of having his own space, and he found himself looking back and forth for his bunk-mates in the manner he had done so for years.

    Breaking that habit is going to take time.

    He took a few steps to his armor stand, and began to don his gear. This was not the only set of equipment he had in the room; his old steel plate, as well as some jousting equipment that Renner had given him on a flit of hers. He slipped himself into an underlayer, freshly washed to the standards of his mistress. Over that, he threw over a mithril chain layer. With that on, he began to strap on each piece. The armor itself was lumminant in the way it cast reflection, and in its current clean and unscuffed state, shown more brilliantly and purely than any steel of Kingdom-make. He could gear fully in two minutes, this sans his helmet - which Renner always wanted him without. He evaluated himself and felt no small amount of pride.

    I look like a knight in this. That¡¯s probably what she intended. Still, I¡¯m- I¡¯m not. I¡¯m never going to be one.

    Climb sagged slightly. These moments of clarity were always painful for him, and they were coming more often than he knew how to handle.

    King Ramposa was talking with all those suitors at her ball. She¡¯s going to be getting married soon. Married¡­ I don¡¯t want her to get married. That¡¯s selfish of me. Gods, how can I be jealous of the princess? She- she¡¯s the princess. Everything is so confusing.

    For every flame of adolescence Renner burnt herself on, Climb did so many-times over. For every red-faced fantasy of one another or poorly repressed lust of the other¡¯s body, Climb suffered from such at least three-fold. In physic and psychic aspects, he was younger, and had none-the-control for which his mistress was so wonton in exercising. Even more impactful at this matter, he was male, and the heat of his age found him to be a fuel that could be ignited white hot. He suppressed those urges now, but soon feared he would need to resort to genuine self-abuses to arrest his ever racing mind. For now, he simply slipped from passions of being with her to merely those of being her crusader.

    She loves this nation, she loves it so deeply. Just watching her talk to Lakyus, her staying up late to work on that ledger, deciphering those Eight Fingers codes, or any of the research she does. She¡¯s tireless. None of her siblings are like her, I wonder why. Why is she the only one in that family that seems to care? And- and she¡¯s so smart too. Seriously, I can never keep up with her. It makes me feel bad sometimes, but it seems no one else can either. Gods why does everyone call her as stupid? And, Zanac calls her a ¡°monster¡± so often. How can he do that? Its so confusing. How can anyone see that in her? I''ll protect her, I¡¯ll protect her no matter what.

    His mind resolved, he inspected his armor one last time, this less as self-flattery and more as practical consideration of his binds. His eyes snagged on a loose strap on his left shin guard, and with that mistake rectified with a quick and practiced motion of his hands, he strapped his sword on and left his room. This was one of the few things in his possession Renner had not provided to him, though not for lack of her desire too. Swords were laced gifts in Re-Estize. They were tools of death, but more importantly in the eyes of the nation¡¯s institutions, were tools of status.

    The nobility had a long and resentful memory, and still pined for the days that such blades could only be possessed by those with titled-blood. Threats of horned and sulfurous origin a century prior had since stripped the nation of such a blindly beheld tradition, but the rules and customs around it lingered as phantoms in the zeitgeist. Put simply, any member of the royal family bestowing a sword upon anyone indicated pending lordship, and Climb could never possess such a title. This sword thus was not a lovingly considered gift from Renner, but whatever surplus garbage Quartermaster Luka was able to pawn off on him without attracting ire from Jelka.

    He opened the door, and left his room. He found himself in the same hall that led to his old bunk, yet was deeper into the guardhouse, closer to the main body of Valencia. This was an officer¡¯s room, ones typically left for higher ranks of knights. He dared not imagine the arguments Renner must have made to Ramposa on his behalf, but they must have been impassioned. Climb had yet to realize that the King had a fondness for him.

    How else could she have gotten me this place? I have a room of equal size to my sergeant. It¡¯s unimaginable.

    This sudden advancement of his material conditions without a tandem rise in status had left him with none of his wit, and much resentment. He turned to his right, looking down the hall to his old bunk room. He caught the gaze of two of his fellow guards, commoners like him. They turned away in disgust and anger. Climb¡¯s mouth twitched.

    I think I might skip breakfast today.

    Climb bit into his loaf, scooping a little of the porridge into his mouth as he did so. This was no stelar combination of flavors, and did not particularly elevate the meal, but Climb simply did this from habit. It was warm and filling, that being the sum of its purposes. The guardhouse refectory teemed with life this morning, more so than usual. Several dozen additional men crowded into the space, guards and knights of the servants who had arrived the day before for Renner¡¯s birthday. In rare form, two women were also present; both were grizzled, and they sat alongside a band of men who were unfamiliar to Climb. He cast his gaze around the space and found Jonnah and Ehkan sharing a spot on one of the five long-tables. Bowl and bread in hand, Climb walked over.

    Gods, a room! I can¡¯t believe she got me a room.

    He couldn¡¯t help but smile. The events of the evening before had left him feeling near silly. He was overbrimming with joy, and simply thinking about her caused his world to melt into a glaze of summer colors, framed wonderfully by the light of the dawn. He looked out a window, its shutters locked open to abate the heat of the coming day, the sun not yet loosed from its place below the rim of the palace wall. He took in a gulp of the outside air, untainted by the miasma of the space he stood in now, and turned and approached his friends. He sat across from Jonnah and Ekhan, both sitting adjacent. He looked over and saw the two women, mostly to confirm his earlier glance.

    ¡°Who are they?¡±

    ¡°Who are who?¡±

    Jonnah¡¯s biting tone caught Climb wrongfooted, but he dismissed it. Ekhan sighed slightly, and took a swig of his morning¡¯s ale.

    ¡°Those women over there.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re Boullope¡¯s bondsmen, er, I suppose bondswomen.¡±

    They can¡¯t be knights, can they?

    ¡°Are they uh- guards like us?¡±

    ¡°The term is professional soldier Climb. The term guard puts us second rate to knights, and in truth, we aren¡¯t. We guard the palace but we are not ¡®guards¡¯, we¡¯re warriors.¡±

    Ekhan stood and projected himself to the rest of the table, itself occupied only by fellow low-blooded soldiers, not letting the opportunity for a lecture go to waste.

    ¡°And that goes for all of you¡¯se. We have a reputation to maintain. I don¡¯t want to hear you all calling yourselves ¡®guards¡¯ like it''s some sort of title, you understand?¡±

    He got non-committal mumbling as response, and had Ehkan been twice awake - and half the age - he would have pursued the matter further, but he stood down for now. His fires tempered, he slowly lowered himself down, turning back to Climb who, for his part, had a wry grin on his face for his part in having caused the outburst.

    ¡°I suppose they must be capable fighters then. Not many nobles hold women in their service.¡±

    ¡°Better than being held in the service of a woman.¡±

    It took Climb a few moments to process Jonnah¡¯s words. They were hissed, vitriol frothing at his mouth.

    Wait, is he talking about me.

    ¡°Jonnah, what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it fucking obvious?¡±

    ¡°Jonnah I don¡¯t understand-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m talking about you Climb, you and your third rate mistress.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    What?! How is she in any way third rate?

    ¡°Her Highness is a wonderful and beautiful woman-¡±

    ¡°¡®Befitting the title of Golden.¡¯ You¡¯ve said that so many fucking times its become unbearable. No, actually, it was bearable until last night.¡±

    ¡°How can you say-¡±

    ¡°Your own fucking room?! How- no, what did you do to deserve that? You have the quarters of a fucking knight-officer. How is that possible?¡±

    Ehkan tried his best to intervene, setting his hand on Jonnah¡¯s left arm.

    ¡°The Royal Guard get their own rooms.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s not Royal Guard! He never can be because that¡¯s a tilted position! He doesn¡¯t have the blood for that. How can you defend this?! Even you don¡¯t have your own room!¡±

    ¡°Well, yes but-¡±

    ¡°Why do you defend him? He¡¯s just some fancy of the Princess, he¡¯s not better than us yet he gets such treatment. I¡¯m twice the fighter he is. Why should he get preference on the basis that he¡¯s eye candy for that adolescent hag.¡±

    Climb struck the table in anger and quickly pushed off, being able to bear no more of Jonnah¡¯s attacks on his mistress. Jonnah did in tandem, thrusting his arm across his body, ready to draw his blade.

    ¡°Come on, give me a fucking chance. How¡¯s it feel relying on a fucking Princess to make up for your inadiquacy?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult her highness!¡±

    ¡°Maybe if I slice your fucking face up she¡¯ll stop caring about you.¡±

    ¡°Guard Jonnah stand down!¡±

    The sudden shout came from two tables down, Knight Retha eating a meal before bed. Beside him, Knight Keller - the man who would soon lead the first rotation - spoke too.

    ¡°Adjutant Climb, you too. Ehkan, control your men. The palace has guests today and you let them slip into such disorder.¡±

    ¡°Ehkan this is horseshit! How can I be expected to sit idly while this happens?! This isn¡¯t fair.¡±

    ¡°Jonnah! You¡¯re relieved of your duties!¡±

    Jonnah and Climb were breathing heavily, and the pause in their fighting allowed the silence of the room to pour into Climb¡¯s ears. No one was talking, almost everyone, especially the men of other masters were looking at the five way engagement. Jonnah turned his gaze to the floor, and let his arms fall to his sides. He stepped away from the table, leaving the refectory without further comment. Climb released the tension in his body and looked to Ehkan, who to his surprise was levying a cold glare back. Climb swept his head rightward, and saw that every guard, without exception, was looking at him in that same way. Climb swallowed.

    ¡ª

    I haven¡¯t been able to get a whole conversation from Ekhan since then. I suppose he has obligations to keep the peace with the Knights and the Maids, but do the rest of them need to cut me out as well? No, I suppose they all feel the same way. Jonnah won¡¯t even talk to me; when I tried to reconcile he just called me a suck-up and told me to fuck off. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

    His eyes drifted down to the floor, exhaling slowly. He turned to his left and began to walk into the body of the palace. He passed through two sets of double doors, and entered onto the main floor. He found his way to the nearest staircase and ascended two flights. Within two minutes, he had arrived at her room.

    That¡¯s Adjutant Knight Galdra. He¡¯s Royal Guard I think. I suppose the Warrior Troop won¡¯t be up to strength for some time. Can¡¯t relieve them of duties any time soon.

    ¡°Adjutant Climb, you''re here early.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. Should I return in an-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s none the matter. You can assume duties if you wish. Her highness is already awake.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±

    Galdra gave him a quizzical look, giving a soft huff at his response. Climb had no clue how to interpret it, simply deciding to ignore it. He approached and knocked on the door.

    ¡°Enter!¡±

    He opened it, and stepped in. He saw Renner sitting in her usual spot. Climb was nothing but attentive to her, and immediately got an odd sense from the sight before him.

    She looks frazzled. Why?

    ¡°Climb! How nice it is to see you. Did you get up early today?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    Her voice sounds rattly; no, she''s trembling too. Is she ok? This seems familiar to me, why?

    ¡°Your Highness, are you ok?¡±

    ¡°Eh? Oh, yes, I think. Evileye sent me a gift of some roasted beans recently and I¡¯m trying it out!¡±

    Roasted beans? What could that mean?

    ¡°Ah¡­ Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner pouted slightly, realizing her explanation wasn¡¯t sufficient.

    ¡°No, it''s uh, this beverage. Like the teas I drink, but it¡¯s much different.¡±

    Realization flooded into Climb in this moment, and he could tell exactly what happened.

    She looks exactly like Gregor did after he downed two stamina potions back to back. What was the term Ehkan used? A ¡°Pumping-Heart High?¡± Oh my Gods. She must be feeling miserable right now.

    ¡°Your Highness, are you sure?¡±

    Renner tilted her head, eyes widening slightly. She opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking.

    ¡°I look that disjoint? I apologize Climb-¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, you needn¡¯t say sorry!¡±

    ¡°No, no. I¡¯m serious. I apologize. Evileye warned me this was a stronger beverage but I didn¡¯t take her seriously enough on that matter. I didn¡¯t mean to make you worry. My body just feels slightly erratic right now; I¡¯m running overhot.¡±

    She would feel apologetic to me over this? Because she made me worry? That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s so nice of her.

    ¡°I do promise I¡¯m fine. I can handle these overphlostiginated brews, I¡¯ve done this to myself before.¡±

    Renner giggled, Climb smiled in an embarrassed way. This was a near constant for him.

    ¡°That black tea of yours, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Still, this is of another caliber. Would you like to try it?¡±

    Why do you always ask? Your face always lights up whenever I give my opinion on any new leaf of yours. Besides, you¡¯ve already set out a second cup. How could I not say yet?

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    Climb approached her side as she poured him some of the beverage. When he got near enough, she gingerly handed him the cup.

    It looks as dark as pitch. How strange.

    ¡°Supposedly this is drunk in Slane. At least, that''s what Evileye said. She recommended adding milk and ground nectar-cane, and to be honest I don¡¯t disagree with her.¡±

    Climb brought the black liquid to his lips, blew on it gently, and sipped it.

    Oh this is quite enjoyable!

    ¡°This is very nice, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Eh? The bitterness doesn¡¯t bother you?¡±

    Is it supposed to?

    Climb looked down, and saw that his mistress¡¯s cup was chalk white with cream.

    ¡°Not particularly, Your Highness.¡±

    It was Renner¡¯s turn to blanch, and she looked away half ashamedly. They stayed in place there for some time in silence, sipping their coffee. Climb¡¯s eyes drifted to the table, seeing Renner had piled on a few books. Since her reunion with Gazef she had dove headlong into researching the matters they discussed, opining about it being one of her duties as princess to know what plagued her subjects. Learning of what the Warrior-Captain¡¯s was, and was capable of was a complex and loaded endeavor.

    Comprehension of arcane codices and thaumonomicons necessitated an understanding of higher math that Renner had never been given as part of her education, and Climb watched her scribbling out practice problem sets. She would read a problem, pause, thump her pen against the table, and begin to scribble out an answer a few seconds later, occasionally flipping to the back of the book and either delighting or pouting in the correctness of her solution. She would undoubtedly have new requests for him this day. After she realized she had made a particularly devastating mistake on an exercise written in symbology that Climb had no hope of understanding, Renner leaned back, sighed, and handed him a slip of paper.

    ¡°Climb if you could please check these books out from Librarian Yelta, oh and please, return this book.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    I don¡¯t understand why he won¡¯t lend these books to her. I know she¡¯s a woman, but still, it makes no sense to me. Lakyus is too, and she¡¯s a stronger warrior than everyone but one I know. All of the Blue Roses are. Shouldn¡¯t it be a good thing to have the princess educated in these matters? Surely it can¡¯t be a matter of sheltering her.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Oh, yes this is quite the selection! The Golden Princess sure knows how to pick good histories for you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, her highness does.¡±

    ¡°Ah, she put a work from Lord Vendra on here! He¡¯s one of my favorites. Hm, if she wants you to read records on the border lands, then there¡¯s another book I should get you.¡±

    ¡°Which one is that?¡±

    ¡°Ah, just an atlas. Some of the location names blend together too much, and the maps in that book really aren¡¯t the best. Still¡­¡±

    Yelta raised his eyebrow, and looked off to the side.

    ¡°What is it, head librarian?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to call me that Climb. You forget, I¡¯m a lowblood like you. I don¡¯t mind you calling me by my name; in fact, I prefer it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sorry, of course. What was it you wanted to say?¡±

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m just wondering. I know it¡¯s a dark matter, and do not let your lips unseal on this point for any but I, but this is the third request I¡¯ve gotten for Codex Daemonicus this week. First from the King himself, second from Defense Coordinator Jelka. It has me wondering; all this trouble with the Head-Warrior, was it of immaterial origin?¡±

    ¡°I- I wouldn¡¯t know. Warrior-Captain Stronoff was badly hurt. Perhaps this is simply for their sense of security.¡±

    ¡°Hm¡­ I suppose. Alright, I¡¯ll get you a copy.¡±

    Yelta walked away, searching the shelves of the library for the relevant material Renner had so requested; in his mind, on the behalf of Climb.

    Both King Ramposa and Jelka? That¡¯s almost disturbing. I¡¯ll need to tell her that, make sure she¡¯s aware of them taking such action. She must really suspect that woman, the one in black, as being a demon. I suppose she suspects Gown himself, too. What a complicated matter.

    Climb dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling his mood begin to slip in tandem.

    To think she needs to worry about this. To think she has to care, to study such matters. She¡¯s just a princess, right? She should have no need to have me sneak around, doing things like this, getting her books on things as foul as demons. What was it that the Crown Prince said? ¡°You have no place in this business.¡± He was right, she doesn¡¯t. She is a third princess, for her to worry about matters of national sanctity is absurd. Yet, she has too.

    She saw Gazef¡¯s inner thoughts a month before anyone else. Told him to be prepared for danger. She¡¯s the only one in the family who seems committed to fighting Eight Fingers. Barbro is in league with them for Gods-sake. When she told me that, I wanted to scream; to break the table I was sitting in front of. How could he do such a thing? How could he side with those people destroying the Kingdom, hurting its people? How could she stay so calm in the face of that? She¡¯s valiant, more so than anyone else I know. Gazef is brave, but he can play at these issues straight. She can¡¯t. She has to hide herself, to make herself look weak and vulnerable and useless. No one but the Blue Roses, or Gazef would ever take her seriously when she comes forward with her ideas. With her plans to save the Kingdom, so save its people. The slavery ban passing was a miracle.

    She can¡¯t even rent out books for herself. It''s frustrating. I wish they could see her as I did. I wish others would listen when she spoke. I remember those first few months with her so clearly. How she was unafraid to voice her ideas, her conceptions of things. She hasn¡¯t been like that since. Even with Lakyus she hides herself from time to time. How crushed she must feel. How utterly weak.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to serve her and stay loyal to her, no matter what.¡±

    She deserves at least one loyal servant.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (9)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    This is starting to make sense. So you take the width and height measures, divide them by the latitude and longitude circle measures respectively, and then from there you can find the radius. With that you can apply the frame-shift and work out the arcanic symbol problem from there. How devious, you bypass all that messing with corner-spans.

    Renner leaned back, evaluating the new knowledge flowing through her mind. Following her meeting with Gazef, her near complete unpreparedness for the realities of magic and its scope had thrust her into an odd feeling of despair she had not known since childhood. Although she easily could have read the most basic of guides on spellcraft to understand the basic outlines of manatic forces, she had decided to examine the subject in-depth. She was unwilling to suffice herself with the surface of the subject, for this could cause her to miss connections she could otherwise weave, and so dove into breadth. Before now, she had only known the silhouettes of the natural studies, math, and thaumaturgy, but now subsumed herself in the physical knowledge. Her current subject was infantessimatics, though she felt herself near her end of that investigation, and she was soon to move on to quantity mathematics. Her mind drifted like flotsam back to the subject of her interpretation.

    So he swapped in place with Gazef. There are a number of things that could be. A duel casting of mist-step, although the distance Gazef described would have required it to be cast at the fourth tier, and out of sight. If the math works out, that would require up to forty angdynes of mana at ah¡­ nearly ninety rels? Scary. Most studied casters can¡¯t do more than fourteen. At minimum, this Ainz fellow should be on par with the Monster of the East; Parodyne can do what, two-hundred rels? At least that¡¯s if Imperial Academy propaganda is to be believed. Ah, these matters are so complex.

    Renner rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. She had been looking down at manuscripts, scrolls, and books for the last few days, and a headache brought on by subsequent neck pain schemed to rob her of her focus. She closed her eyes and looked to the ceiling of her sitting room.

    Perhaps I¡¯m too deep in the weeds. The material complexities of this matter with Ainz is without doubt the lesser matter. The true issue here is the political question.

    Renner sighed; she was loath to rip herself from her current object of study, for she had found it genuinely enthralling, but the matter of time loomed on her. She found herself forced to return to baser subjects, doing so with no small amount of irritation.

    The political responses have been asinine from both sides. You would figure the architects of this scheme could come up with something better than asking for Gazef¡¯s resignation as Head-Warrior, but no. Boullope or Lytton and company could do not but say that the object of their assassination attempt ¡°was unfit to be Warrior-Captain¡±. Why not simply unite behind the King in this matter? Decry this attack on Gazef as a horrid event? You already know he can die, Slane should have rightfully slain him. The intervention of Ainz was nothing but a fluke. Do you have no confidence in your follow-up? Surely you cannot help but realize that by backing my father, you¡¯ll increase your image among the people when you knock him off too? When you fabricate a King Andrean? How impotent; how utterly incompetent.

    Of course it¡¯s not as if the Royals have done much better. In fact, our response has been far worse. Rather, the lack thereof. Failing to take action is one thing, but outright pretending the matter was not a factional plot? That is a special level of incompetence on our part. I get the suspicion this was not the outcome Raeven wanted, but Blumrush seems to have forced his hand. There are penalties from ruling from the shadows I suppose. Depressing. How has this nation survived for north of two centuries?

    ¡°All things well to be¡­¡±

    Renner whispered that phrase to herself, resigning herself to losing the rest of the day to matters of political origin. A number of visitors were coming to the palace today, mostly in followup to the last council with Ramposa, but also some of those from across the faction gulf (who had been summoned solely to bear ire from those Royal factions sycophants who wanted a stress release). This necessitated a welcoming ceremony, which necessitated Renner¡¯s presence. Normally this would be something she would find attendance to at least palatable, but her expectations for actual progress this meeting were through the floor.

    Renner rose from her chair, collecting her tomes, worksheets, and scrap parchment. This was normally something she had Climb do, not for any real need, but simply to watch his face light up at serving her. Of course, he was already doing that now, off in the palace library collecting some histories for her; so she sated her needs for his countenance with her imagination. The library was a loaded place for her, the reasons for such being two-fold. Beyond Yelta¡¯s patronizing attitude towards her - his complete refusal to take her seriously annoying to no end - the true source of her vexxed thoughts lied in its very existence.

    The fact that the nobility won¡¯t support the creation of public libraries is near absurd. Come now, what possible evils could be found in literacy? How daft. How foolish and short sighted. Just because the true dividends will come with two-decades of lag time, you refuse to do so? Why do you limit your ambitions to the length of your own lives? Don¡¯t you care - blindly so - for the status of your young? There is not a half-wit summed between the lot of you.

    She lugged the books into her bedroom, a small set of shelves filled with a number of other books. Dropping the papers on-top of a small pile, she set her current reading upright alongside the rest of her collection. None of the books at a glance looked anywhere near significant, all of them something Evileye had termed ¡°airhead-reading¡±. Renner never actually read these books to begin with, simply using them as cover. She knew that there was no place she could hide critical things in this space, every portion of her room coming under the investigations of maids whenever she was out. Even if she could make a secret compartment or nesting place, there was no chance of it remaining undiscovered. She hid what she could in plain view, but things like the ledger seized by Eight Fingers were too dangerous to be left undisguised.

    Evileye had provided a solution here, encasing the book in a membrane of hard shadow, advanced illusion magic that could falsify convincing visual and tactile sensations. She hid it as a copy of a makeup guide which Renner had previously owned, so in this way there was no sign that anything had changed in the scope of her possessions. Renner did not have the talent required to dispel or penetrate it, but her hand mirror (which had seemed so simple a gift to her at the time) could peer through the darkborn gauze and analyze its contents. As a consequence she had to read the entire ledger backward, holding her hand mirror at awkward and uncomfortable angles, but this was a small price to pay for total security. With that matter settled, Renner let herself sag, dreading what was to come next.

    ¡ª

    The Great Six are here, Urovana, Blumrush, Boullope, Pespea, Raeven, and Lytton. Counts, Bornbrook, Edwards, Secrin, Keveleos, Quint, Cailloux, Valliancort, Baschet, Malet, Rochefort; and men from Asselin, Verly, Larousse- ah that¡¯s right, he¡¯s a false Margrave now. Speaking of which, is Harlink here? I don¡¯t see him- oh Salco is. Representatives from Pluff, Duroy, Poment. Many men of and from minor baronies, Gillian, Davadet, Mason, Goodman, Hayler, Delgen, Buerena, Phylen, Webbev, Burks- no Burkens; Burk lost his status, ironic that they look so similar. Oh even an Aindra; I¡¯ll need to mention to Lakyus I saw her cousin here. So many more, I can¡¯t bother to count. As far as military men go, Vellen, Helgrave, Theiern, Roland, Hueg, Lazzak and their men. Oh look, my sister-dearest Vena, come to see father? You have been so cleaved to Pespea I have not seen you in years. We¡¯re but one away from having a full reunion of Ryles. My heart yearns¡­

    Renner suppressed a laugh. She needed a little sweetness to blunt the bitterness of this meeting. She knew that this council would be an unbound calamity. She expected nothing but a few days of argument with the most cringeworthy of words; words she would certainly regret hearing for the mental damage they would cause her.

    I ought to not be so negative. I feel like I did as a child, almost as immature in outlook. In a way this should make me joyous, these are the people I have to outmaneuver.

    The throne room was near the apex of its capacity, at least with the amount of comfort nobles expected. Ramposa, Barbro, Zanac, and Renner sat stageright to left respectively at the head of the space. This was the beginning of a General Council, the first of such this year. The Empire''s invasions had made these once rare events an annual occurrence, but the recent attack on the borderlands had triggered this day early. The danger of war saturated the air, and many feared this would soon become an outright strategic matter. Renner cast her gaze around, catching her Climb. He was along the wall stageright of the King, lined in a formation of Nobles¡¯ Bodyguards and Adjutants.

    I¡¯m not the only one sneaking gazes at you, no? How many people here are so captured by you, and your dress. Gleaming plate like yours cannot help but enthrall. Watching people pay such attention to you is¡­ sating. Or, perhaps not; this may becken greater need from me.

    Gazef stood by the side of the King, and in an unusually pointed show of force, so did his second-in-command Vice-Captain Velthrop. Teloran and Alucian stood to their side, although this was a notably cheaper display from the princes. Moments like this provided Renner respite from constantly being talked of as the lowest sibling, Zanac bearing such a standard cross target this day. This was the throne room for the purpose of ceremony, and at a hand signal from Ramposa, the court-crier stood and began to deliver the message bidding the events to come.

    ¡°His Majesty, King Ramposa the Third, Defender of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, welcomes you all. The Kingdom of Re-Estize which His Majesty has so sought to protect, and for which you have sworn a vow of protection alongside, has fallen under undeclared and unjustified assault by the vile and wretched Empire of Baharuth. This attack against our sovereignty has been levied upon us by none other than the leader of the most worthless and pitborn nation that knows this world home, Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix. The Bloody Emperor who so acquired his throne through treachery and murder is seeking yet again to expland his territory and lay cruelties upon the innocent peoples of Re-Estize.¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Know that the acts were committed in the borderlands, in the domains of Margrave Harlink and Count Bajan. That these acts represent an escalation of all previous undeclared intrusions by the Empire. This was a threat not only to the outlying villages, but is also considered a threat to the defense and protection of E-Rantel. Know too that the unforgivable and reprehensible crimes of the Empire include the waylaying of hundreds of peasentry, the razing of villages - including Usamsara, Delberg, and Carne - murder, treachery, and disguise. Know too that the Head-Warrior who so proved his martial prowess at the Grand Tournament near eight years ago, Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff drove away the bloodless and mercenary ¡®Knights¡¯ of the Empire, and him and his men spent their lives as sentinels to the Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Know that His Majesty has called you here to discuss a plan of action to thoroughly counter these despicable acts, and to deliberate the responses of your domains. Know too that His Majesty has summoned the ambassadorial staff of the Empire, and that they in their unbound shamelessness have played party to the lies of El-Nix, and have so claimed these were not his acts. His Majesty, King Ramposa the Third, will now speak.¡±

    Oh? I suppose this was expected, but it still ought to sell the whole performance.

    Ramposa stood, and with little of the struggle expected for a man of his age. He was above all else dedicated to his nation, and his heart reignited with the fiery vigor of youth in moments like this.

    ¡°Our enemy is cowardly beyond measure, but be wary of cunningness in the back-facing men of our opposition. Those who commit such treachery as they find themselves blinded by ambition and sum yields above anything else. In this, they are foolish and may be hunted down. All enemies of the Kingdom, all those who would scheme against its Head-Warrior will know their ends painfully, and mourn their fate. The Gods do not take kindly to such treasons.¡±

    Ah father, what a biting attack! If words could split the skin, then a score of men would be sliced open in this room. How many here have so schemed as described? At least two of the Marquis in attendance, whether Blumrush¡¯s companion in such betrayal be Lytton or Boullope is still in question. My brother is of no doubt in this, as are his men. Bajan and Harlink most certainly. Still, by no means are they the only ones in attendance. After all, I could only have interacted and marked a few as such. Men of the new moon scurry like rats in this chamber; no, even rats have greater cunning than they.

    A second laugh fought its way up her gullet, yet could not breach her lips. Sounds of clapping and assent came from those gathered, but this was a typical reaction and bore no special meaning. She saw no bucks of note among the crowd, any foolish enough to so reveal themselves having long since been selected out of this world. Renner repeated her mockery in her head a few times over.

    ¡°Even rats have greater cunning than they¡±¡­ ¡°than they¡±¡­ ¡°than they¡±? Are they not men? They are, yet they seem so foriegn to me; other enough to be beyond a crossable gap. So different in composition. Why?

    ¡°To His Majesty, we renew our pledge of unending devotion, and our duty to aid all those who fall in the realms of the Kingdom.¡±

    Urovana bowed, and the whole chamber soon followed in genuflection. For half, the act was hollow, but did indeed bear burdens. The King could demand they march with him to war, and no matter how they schemed, they could not resist that call. Their domains, titles, and blood depended on their loyalty to the King, and loyalty to him was entwined with those to country and the Four Gods. Renner went through the motions too, nodding her head as did her two half-brothers, yet this was a near subconscious act, her being lost in the depths of her min

    ¡ª

    The strategy council found itself in its third hour, yet war still drifted as a specter over its entreatments. The news of Baharuth¡¯s attack - which in truth was Slane acting on Re-Estize¡¯s wishes of self destruction - had shocked many noblemen to their core. At least they were pretending to be shocked. Renner was distracted, but she sought to wet at least a little attentiveness from her mind. She staked herself in the moment, evaluating the clownery of the affair.

    Father is claiming openly that this was an act of Baharuth, which would have been - in theory - the correct move to make. Anything else antagonizes Slane, and making your opponents think their schemes against you have laid ungazed upon is undoubtedly correct. Still, you should have kept this in the tightest breaches of your inner circle, not pass it out with abandon and haphazard execution. I will grant you Barbro; for you to think he would be in league with the enemy is something of a different level, and I would not expect you to be able to distinguish his crossed loyalty. But Vellen? Blumrush? How are they not clear in their disunity?

    ¡°If a direct military counter is not yet an actionable goal, then we must at least commit an expulsion.¡±

    ¡°I can have a force of knights in Baharuth within two days.¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯ll be without proper support, they won¡¯t be able to function as anything but a raiding party. We would need a force nearing a legion to achieve any true action, and neither I nor Larousse are willing to commit such a force yet. Representative Feldon is that-¡±

    ¡°Gods dammit that¡¯s all we need right now!¡±

    ¡°Which would trigger an open war!¡±

    ¡°Some farmers are still planting, we can¡¯t afford one yet. We¡¯re at least six weeks out from-¡±

    ¡°Eight weeks. Count Duroy entrusted me with some figures on this matter-¡±

    ¡°So?! They crossed into our territory and-¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t do that yet! Think of the consequences Baschalt.¡±

    ¡°Look, let''s hold the subject of a declaration of war. Can we at least agree on an expulsion?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Ambassadors Agricola and Silva, as well as their staff. They were the ones who lied to our faces anyway.¡±

    ¡°I say we kick out the entire embassy, the Empire has never been so blatant in their action.¡±

    ¡°I agree, Mercat and his men need to be out.¡±

    ¡°I still think we should cross the border, burn a few of their villages.¡±

    ¡°Like we¡¯ve been trying to explain, if we were to do that, we would need to prepare for a war.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t let this pass without retaliation!¡±

    ¡°Thats why we send the lot of them back to their fucking country. Eucundus too!¡±

    ¡°That language is crass! It''s not befitting of a person of your-¡±

    ¡°My station grants me the right to say what I damn will please; I say we expel the lot of them!¡±

    ¡°Godsdammit that¡¯s not enough, and this Ainz fellow! How do we deal with him?¡±

    ¡°I thought we were tabling him until the end of-¡±

    ¡°He stepped in to save Carne, so clearly he¡¯ll stand by and let us enact our justice.¡±

    ¡°What?! How does that make sense? Would he not defend villages in the empire with the same zeal against us? Considering what the Head-Warrior has-¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t stand sentry in front of Ulrena or Delberg.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about Webbev? Ulrena never fell under attack?¡±

    ¡°Yes it did! We just went over that in the general summary, and that¡¯s Baron Webbev to you, representative Jonque¡±

    ¡°It was Usamsa-¡±

    ¡°Usamsara Village!¡±

    ¡°It was Ulrena, you¡¯re misremembering.¡±

    ¡°It was Usamsara! I think I would know what villages are in my master''s domain.¡±

    A chorus of voices rushed to correct the mistake made by Webbev, many of those present using the opportunity to claw back at least a little face. Renner could bring herself to listen to no more of that conversation than that, truthfully struggling to distinguish between the more than a dozen voices feuding.

    It''s a futile effort to try and map sense onto their actions, it''s a hazard to cognition. I choose to ceed my attention. I think I do see them as akin to rats. Not disgust, not even smugness, but a deep foreknowledge that I am above them. An almost literal viewing of such. My feelings are nigh identical betwixt the two. Is that right in an objective sense? Is such a view correct?

    Renner found herself set upon by new confusion, suddenly struggling to sort out her thoughts. Her internal admission of her feelings of self superiority to those nobles around her led to a cascade of follow up questions. It was as if an errant lightning bolt found itself striking at the ground upon which she stood, throwing her into the air without anything to hold steadfast too.

    What about others?

    Renner began to pass faces past her mind''s eye, accelerating in pace as she increasingly realized how little she could distinguish them from beings she considered lesser. She could think of a few exceptions to the rat rule, finding comparison in ants and other such social insects.

    I see them as no different from animals. I suppose all mankind are physical creatures in nature, or at least prey to the same needs; in a physical sense that remains true for me too. Both men and the baser creatures of this world still fall prey to hierarchies, birth, eat, breed and love, grow, strife and chafe against each other, fall prey to greater creatures, die, decompose. Does there need to be a difference? Does it matter?

    The highest of such is Zanac, but I have so often referred to him as a pig. Never as an insult, for pigs are brilliant animals, but surely that name is diminishing none-the-less. Raeven also rises to the level of pig. Barbro and the rest of my family breach the rat barrier, but many further distant do not. Lakyus, Tia, Tina, Gagaran, and Evileye all seem as wolves to me, or perhaps lionesses. Is this a pretension of royalty? With no doubt does Barbro struggle to empathize with commoners, he probably sees them as objects. Have I fallen prey to some foolish conception of the world only possible for those who receive such attention? It would be a grand folly on my part if that was the case.

    But where does the breach between humanoids and beasts lie? Divine mandate? The only barrier I can see between us and other kinds is that we received instruction from the Gods. Other species have Gods too. Races both fair and foul have their tales and entreatments of heavenly dictate.

    What about Climb? I¡­ I see him as a dog. I always have. The question of his obedience was one of the first I raised to myself upon seeing him. Is- is that bad? No, I love him. I love my puppy so very deeply. For him to be a dog is for him to be the apex of all I know, all I care about. It''s not simply a term of endearment, but rapturous enthrallment.

    I suppose I see none of these terms as insults, merely as realities. The royals, nobles, knights, maids, guards, merchants, citizenry, paupers, horses, cattle, chickens, insects. I struggle to distinguish any of them. I have asked myself this before, but now I feel as if this is a question of greater meaning than I have ever assigned it in any turmoil prior. Who am I? What do I see myself as? I am certainly human, but if every other of my kind I can consider is dissimilar to my personhood, then can they be considered ¡®my kind¡¯?

    Am I something else born to womanflesh?

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (10)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    Renner lifted her fork to her mouth and bit. Dinner would be in a few hours, but the coffee she had over-drunk earlier had robbed her of her appetite. She realized now that breakfast had slipped her by, and that she had consumed nothing for the day. Her hunger hit her in force when she realized this, and so she had requested a small preparation from a tertiary kitchen chef, the first and second of such preparing the banquet for tonight. He made her a small preparation of eel cutlets laid upon polenta, which she ate with no small amount of thankfulness to him.

    There¡¯s a discontinuity in this; a gap between bloods. Eel is common enough among the peasantry, but they are wont to serve it over breads or cereals. Fruit of maze however, that is altogether different. How far away was this imported from? Rhetorically, Abellion, but the question poses more meaning. How many hands did this ground meal pass through? I doubt if any outside of Valencia and the upper quarters of the city have heard of this, much less eaten it.

    She sliced a portion of her eel again, and manipulated her utensils to pile both textures atop the other. Bringing this into her mouth, she began to think of subtler details.

    There are subtler gaps too. This is glazed, probably with river cane from the east. How many of the peasantry will ever taste something like this? They¡¯ll probably draw sweetness from fruits, but there is still a fundamental difference. The breach grows when you consider the spices used, or any of the other flavors. The manner of preparation manyfold so, how many paupers have an onstaff chef?

    Renner laughed to herself, the brevity of the moment being a well desired respite. Climb looked up from his activity, some book that Yelta had recommended for his sake; a treatise of sword and sorcery that was perfect for a boy his age. She did not look at him, instead feeling his gaze on her.

    He is a dog, no? He must be. That endearing confusion, cock of the head when his mistress does something that he doesn¡¯t understand; can¡¯t understand. That assured sense that even if it makes no sense to him, it''s something that¡¯s important to me, and that''s all he needs to be happy in the moment. It warms me.

    A knock against the door to her sitting room snapped her from the moment. Climb set down his book and rose from his chair, sidestepping to be by his mistress¡¯s flank. Maid Nunia twitched slightly, standing in the corner with the eventual intent to bus Renner¡¯s plate.

    I had no plans for visitors, and Elias already made his rounds for today, though there may be a late arriving letter of some importance. Unexpected.

    ¡°Enter!¡±

    The door opened to reveal a man in his mid fifties. He had managed to retain his hairline, Renner recognizing him from the reception.

    ¡°Lord Keveleos! How wonderful it is to see you.¡±

    ¡°You in twain Princess. I pray you forgive my unannounced visit.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to forgive Count, quite the opposite!¡±

    Count Keveleos was a member of the Royal Faction, but more specifically, one of Renner¡¯s few supporters. He, as well as two Barons, Haylor and Saluse, constituted the only members of the Royal Faction who would advocate for her proposals with zeal, the rest tending to simply avoid the subjects raised by her altogether. Alec Resenen Pell Keveleos was the only of these three who backed his support with actual capital, having contributed four platinum standards to her campaign on the matter of slavery.

    In the current political system, that act was risky at best, unlikely to produce true progress. He must have some reason, however enigmatic. There is a none-too-implausible chance he is a true idealist. Still, how many of those can be said to exist?

    Renner knew the sensibility of what she suggested, but highbloods were often disconnected from sense, and it was thus a rare thing that any saw value in what she had to say. She could not help but be suspicious of people like Keveleos.

    ¡°That makes me glad, Your Highness. Still, there are other things I must apologize for. Missing your birthday was not something I had intended to do.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Your flowers were so nice though. I quite appreciated the seeds!¡±

    ¡°Well, that makes me very happy.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I passed them off to the gardener, so they should be ready by next season. You can come and see them then!¡±

    ¡°I would love to, Your Highness.¡±

    His eyes flicked to the table for a moment, spotting the book that had been left, then jumped his gaze to Climb - who for his part was looking straight ahead.

    ¡°Your Highness, your bodyguard¡­ Climb, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Would you mind if I spoke with him for a moment.¡±

    Oh? This is a strange line of questioning. I did gush to him for some time about Climb, but to think he would remember his name?

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Climb, I see you''re reading ¡®Tales of the Frostborne Knight¡¯.¡±

    Climb looked at Keveleos, and then to his mistress. She gave him an affirming nod.

    ¡°Er- Yes, Lord Keveleos.¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m enjoying it, Lord Keveleos.¡±

    ¡°What do you think of Lancette? Also, no need to be so formal. You can simply call me Alec.¡±

    Eh?! What is he getting from this? I don¡¯t understand why he¡¯s being so conversational with Climb. Am I missing something?

    ¡°Yes, Lor- Alec. I think Lancette is¡­ very brave. When he faced down the . Have you read it before?¡±

    ¡°As a boy. I remember it quite fondly. I have always found Lancette interesting. To be so dedicated in defending his master¡¯s name after he¡¯s slandered, disgraced, and killed by the Black Hand. It''s a special kind of loyalty, no?¡±

    ¡°Yes it is! The part where he finally tracks down and defeats Underboss Nortoga was amazing.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Such is the point of fictions like that.¡±

    That¡¯s what that book is about? Revenge for the sake of a master? No wonder Climb took to it so fast. Ah, that¡¯s cute of him. Yes, most certainly a dog.

    Renner¡¯s smile became a little wider at this, Keveleos turning back to her.

    ¡°Have you read it, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I must confess not¡­¡±

    Is it some significant work? I thought it was just a boyish thing, nothing akin to what I would have wanted to read.

    ¡°Mm. Yes, I suppose that figures. Say, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes Lord?¡±

    ¡°Speaking of heroic warriors, do you still keep in contact with Lady Aindra?¡±

    Where is this coming from?

    ¡°Yes I do, we met- oh- two weeks ago? We went and saw ¡®The Rye and the Wabe.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Ah, that new play from Baron Unuloupe?¡±

    ¡°Is that who wrote it? It was quite good!¡±

    I feel like the barrier between my face and I runs thin here. I didn¡¯t know the author of that was a highblood, I didn¡¯t know of Climb¡¯s book either, and I can¡¯t pin a motive on Keveleos¡¯s coming. My eyes are sealed with pitch at this moment. Troubling.

    ¡°Yes. Would you know if they¡¯re taking work?¡±

    What sort of question is that!? Of course they are. Is he a kind hearted dullard? I suppose it would make sense.

    ¡°I imagine they must be¡­¡±

    ¡°Mm, yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you need work done? You could always go to the guild, they-¡±

    ¡°Nothing like that, Your Highness. I was just interested in speaking with her. She is one of the fine women of the Kingdom, no?¡±

    He cut me off too quickly. This is getting complicated. Ah, what do I do?

    ¡°Oh, yes I completely concur! I can mention something in my next correspondence to them.¡±

    ¡°I would appreciate that deeply. Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    I¡¯ll give him an out here, see if he bites.

    ¡°Would you like to have some tea, Lord? I have some stuff in from Abellion, it''s quite good!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must refuse-¡±

    ¡°Eh? A shame.¡±

    ¡°I do have to prepare for tonight after all. Perhaps we can talk more at dinner?¡±

    ¡°I would love to!¡±

    Although I suspect on none-too-important issues. Why ask me about the Blue Roses? Does he feel such fealty to King and Country? I should stop myself. Any line of thought in that direction can produce reasonable excuses for any action, no matter how strange, and produces no actions of merit.

    ¡°Well, I do apologize for the short visit.¡±

    ¡°This is the third time you¡¯ve done so today for uncommitted wrongs.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness, I must digress. I bid you well.¡±

    ¡°You in twain. Climb, get the door for our guest.¡±

    He needs to get in contact with a high ranked force, meaning he needs work that they would take. The Blue Roses are known to be the cleanest of such groups; Red Drop would be easier to draw into labor, which means he sees his request as bright, or at least bright enough. Why use me as a conduit however? What relevance could the Golden Princess have here?

    Keveleos stood, and he and Climb walked to the door to the hall.

    ¡°Speak with you tonight, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting baited.¡±

    He needs to dodge the Guild. Perhaps he possesses enemies there? Direct contact is also an impossibility, which only makes sense if¡­ if he¡¯s being spied upon. Is there some sword over his head? Some sulfurous or sepulcher specter standing shadow in subsequence? In that case there would be no need to hide, simply run to the protection of the above-board. No, this must be a threat native to the Kingdom.

    The door to the corridor closed, and the room fell back into silence. Renner looked to Climb, and saw a smile stuck on his face.

    He appealed to Climb¡­ which means he appealed to me. Ah, I understand. He was trying to ingratiate himself, so he talked to Climb as if they were at least somewhat equal, assuming I would warm. Lo, it worked. He¡¯s clever, or perhaps rumors of my true feelings of Climb have spread far enough to touch his ears. I got outmaneuvered. Or rather, my persona did. So I can pin down a stonesure cause for half of this conversation, but what of the other?

    Is this an Eight Fingers matter? His actions would imply as such. No, even that doesn¡¯t make sense. He avoided the Guild on the grounds of paranoia, yet did not bother to have Nunia dismissed? The palace maids are by no means secure, and a channel through me does not have a greater chance of remaining undiscovered. But then why ask me for contact with the Blue Roses? Confusing. Unless talking to me was the object of his coming, and not any hidden desire to seek the aid of swords for hire. But why would his objective be to speak to me?

    Renner swallowed, her whole body fidgeting slightly. Climb had already sat down, and began to return to his book. Without thinking, she reached and folded Climb¡¯s hand into hers.

    ¡°Is something the matter, Your Highness?¡±

    Was this a threat? Was I discovered as the coordinator for Lakyus¡¯s effort?

    ¡°Hm? Ah, no sorry I was just¡­ thinking about what you and the Count were conversing about. A Knight who defends his master, eh?¡±

    Renner giggled, hoping her explanation gave her a believable cover for her slip up.

    It would make sense. If I was nothing but the Princess as the diaspora of nobility see it, then such words as he said would levy no suspicion. If I am as he presumably suspects, I would be intimidated by his coming. An immediate, physical sense of danger against me. If that was his act, he veiled it perfectly. He¡¯s saying that I am at threat if I continue my actions against Eight Fingers. Ah, my mind is too scattered to make true deductions, I need to reorganize my thoughts. Begin again from a more fundamental position.

    What do I truly know of Keveleos? He¡¯s a Count, although he¡¯s the first in his line to achieve that rank. Royal Faction, and he at least pockets deep enough to throw money at me. His wife¡¯s name is Yillerya, she was a daughter from the Delya line, no? Minor barons in the north.

    Renner¡¯s eyes drifted, catching Climb¡¯s reddened face, before switching to the present maid.

    Wait, Maid Nunia¡¯s last name is Delya. Oh my Gods, Nunia and Keveleos are in-laws! How did I not notice this before? That changes the entire character of this conversation. She¡¯s what, the fourth daughter of her family? The specifics there don¡¯t matter - she was low enough to be sent off as a maid. She¡¯s likely just an extension of him. That means she won¡¯t be spreading any news of this coming, which means he could communicate with me without fear of word spreading.

    I can strike every assumption I made on the basis of this conversation being bare to discovery. I may truly be a secure channel for him to contact the Blue Roses. Ironically, his trickery here clears his name of any ill intention against me. He was genuinely seeking aid through me. It does not wipe the stain of Eight Fingers from him however. Perhaps he was a noble forced to the surface through our actions. Avoiding not only the Guild, but also direct contact means he¡¯s high enough in the organization (or at least cognizant or paranoid enough of its capabilities) to know those actions could be tracked. So he decided to use me. How cautious. This is beginning to compute.

    I wonder what explanation could be levied for his support of my actions against slavery. If he¡¯s an Eight Fingers man - which seems increasingly likely - why openly fight against it? Simply say you are against the matter and do no further as you continue to receive payment. Strange; his coming raises ever more questions.

    ¡ª

    This is bad. This is really bad.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Evileye cracked her knuckles, a nervous habit that despite herself had stayed with her throughout the course of her entire existence. Her eyes flicked back and forth through the transcript she was reading. It was written in mechanical type, and was the product of a device made from the joint laborer of her and one of her former confidants. It was a fiendishly complex mecha-arcanic device, which she had dubbed a ¡°recorder¡±, and from which she was now analyzing its output. It was installed on the third floor of the keep, the machine being nearly her height and taking an equal amount of floorspace, could spy upon and transcribe any conversation made within the sensornet she had constructed.

    The room was filled to the brim with similar machinery: a dozen clocks and chronometers of various makes hung on the wall; several wands and staffs focuses set on horizontal racks; arcanic-dynamos, including pumps and cycling devices within a cabinet; bevies of crystals set in a glass case, elemental manifestations of various types and colors; a large matrix of wooden cubbies no more than a finger length in either direction overstuffed with scrolls; row after row of bookshelves stacked high with tomes, arcane treatises, and the occasional orb or focus; a number of strange weirding and scrying devices set on tripods huddled in one corner. The space was highly claustrophobic, the smooth stone of its walls almost completely obscured by Evileye¡¯s collection. The entirety of the Blue Roses were crammed into the room it had been built into - which for the amount of time she spent there, was hers - she doing her best to get a useful yield the contraption. The conversation of interest for them was the one they had had with Fenthrop four hours prior.

    How odd, this is the first time in the last hundred years I¡¯ve felt so anxious. Why? I suppose this is the first time the Kingdom has been in such genuine internal danger, but why would that matter to me?

    The transcript was filled with ruinous things. Descriptions of hazards to the Kingdom, conspiracies among conspiracies, violence in the deep places of the world of man. Normally, none of this would have mattered to Evileye. Although human affairs were her business, she was a dispassionate laborer, feeling little affinity to any matter that so engrossed her compatriots. Her heroism was purely mercenary, her only desire to do so to satisfy some shadow of avarice in her soul, as well as provide a more moral fulfillment of her thirst.

    I suppose I¡¯ve grown a liking to Lakyus, feels like I once again possess a rag-tag group of associates. They don¡¯t compare to Kalinya, or to Juncilia; both of them were true friends. That said, the Blue Rose are certainly the best of the current crop. I suppose I can add Charledon to the list; she does seem like the sharpest of her family, certainly the apex of such in the last few generations.

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s holding anything back?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡±

    Still, there is something off about her I can¡¯t place my finger on. Can¡¯t help but wonder if she¡¯ll snap one day and thin herself or the rest of the palace. She would be a good candidate for that sort of madness. Having such buffoons for siblings when she possesses practically precognizent intellect has to twist a person a little, no?

    ¡°Can¡¯t you make sure for us? Don¡¯t you know any soothic or scrying magics?¡±

    ¡°Tina is right, why else do we keep a runt like you around?¡±

    Evileye sighed. Gagaran¡¯s jab held little weight, but she was none-the-less annoyed at it.

    ¡°Gagaran, I¡¯ve been picking apart what people say for the truth of their words for longer than this Kingdom has existed. When I say ¡®I doubt it,¡¯ I truly mean that. Grant me at least a twip of credit in your mind.¡±

    ¡°Ay ay, I apologize your worshipfulness.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Gods above would you all please focus? This isn¡¯t the time to squabble.¡±

    Thank you Lakyus. Wait, why is this unreadable? Agh! By the edicts of Brog''drukil, the weirding tuner fell out of alignment for the whole latter half of this parchment. That¡¯s going to be a strip job on the machine to fix. Rotten luck.

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Fiendish Leader-¡±

    ¡°Evil Boss.¡±

    ¡°Tia, Tina, stop calling me that!¡±

    She¡¯s stressed. No, all of us are. I can¡¯t blame her. Still, strange to see her express it.

    Renner¡¯s supposition that the continual application of pressure on the organization would force people to the surface had been correct, Fenthrop having been a major catch. The last two days of interrogation had revealed horrid things, and the worst-case estimates she had given them size and power of the organization had been shot straight through. If the Count was to be believed, then nearly one in two hundred citizens of the Kingdom were associated with Eight Fingers - one in one hundred fifty in cities. The last two months of action had produced just over three-hundred captured or killed - itself a stunning figure for the combined actions of just five people - but this was only a fraction of the broader organization. The sum total of personnel they had reaped in raids on dens, sieges on apartments, or in street-brawls were likely already replaced. They were starting to feel ground down, losing will to continue their campaign a span at a time. Evileye watched Gagaran turn to Lakyus.

    ¡°What do we do next?¡±

    ¡°I think we need to start hitting production, not people. They can just replace anyone we kill, but what we destroy is different.¡±

    ¡°Why not hunt for the leadership?¡±

    ¡°That takes time Tina, and I doubt we¡¯ll be able to get more than one at a time. Besides, I¡¯m getting the feeling they can be replaced with ease. Even destroying a Laira crop is more worth our time than hunting capos.¡±

    ¡°You really think so?¡±

    Lakyus is right. There are nine million in this nation who they can draw upon to repair their ranks. I¡¯m loath to use such an expression, but we really haven¡¯t done more than scratch at them.

    ¡°Yes. Any capital we destroy will be thrice as hard for them to make up. Speaking of which, our next target should be that Black Dust distillery near Re-Blumrusher. We could knock out distribution for the whole city.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to be careful when we do. I don¡¯t want to imagine what sort of smoke it would produce if we raze it.¡±

    Smokes plural. That manufacture-process document we seized a fortnight ago, the recipe that described- no, more like a concoction, or poison. Using numen-cinnabar in something meant to be consumed by the living, are they insane? No wonder that drug kills so many.

    ¡°Oy, Boss?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s correct about an interorganizational war?¡±

    Fenthrop had given the group a ray of hope when he spoke of a growing factionalism within Eight Fingers. The idea that the organization could soon fall apart into two opposed halves had seemed extremely intoxicating, and to the cynical attitudes of top-ranked adventurers, optimistic beyond reason.

    ¡°It''s wishful thinking at best, but we shouldn¡¯t let that stop us from considering the consequences.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying that if Eight Fingers really does split along the ¡®reformist¡¯ versus ¡®traditionalist¡¯ line, then we should be prepared for it, no matter how unlikely.¡±

    Evileye stayed silent, considering what Lakyus said.

    Rigit was right about her. She does have the qualities of a true leader. I would have dismissed that out-of-hand as too hopeful of an assumption. She is not burned as I am, still sensitive to the ways of the world. For her sake, I hope she stays that way.

    ¡°True. What do you think we should do if that happens?¡±

    ¡°A war like that would be brutal; likely would spill into the sight of the nobility. It might actually be possible to compel action from them. Both sides would probably hire mercenaries, so there would be enough of a trail of money for our ace in Valencia to pin down specific locations of division heads. If the fighting gets bad, it''s possible higher ranking members could get forced out of hiding. This would probably be for only short periods, so we would need to be ready to act. Find what cities the fighting is the thickest in and see what we can¡¯t catch fleeing. That¡¯s of course only if that comes to pass. This might slip from our grasp entirely.¡±

    That¡¯s an oddly cunning idea from Lakyus, Renner must be rubbing off on her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that.¡±

    Odd. Gagaran typically isn¡¯t the type to raise objections. Wonder what flaws she sees.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It makes me nervous.¡±

    ¡°You? Nervous? That¡¯s a first.¡±

    ¡°Are we sure we want an Eight Fingers war to happen?¡±

    Gagaran afraid of violence? That is a first.

    ¡°Why would we not? It¡¯ll do more damage to them than we could ever do.¡±

    ¡°I mean like, uh, like¡­ Okay look, people are gonna get desperate during a war right?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that spill over into other things? Like, okay, uh, an example. We think that this is going to cost them a lot of money right? Both sides.¡±

    ¡°It will, they¡¯ll need to hire additional swords.¡±

    ¡°What happens when they run out?¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°Money. Won¡¯t they start to shake-down more people?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem unlikely, but that feels fairly minor in comparison to everything else that would happen.¡±

    ¡°I guess, but like, there would be a lot more that they do too, right? It''s ¡®representative¡¯ of the sort of stuff they would do.¡±

    ¡°No, I think I understand what you mean.¡±

    Silence returned to the keep, everyone pondering Gagaran¡¯s hesitation. It was a rare occurrence for her to be the voice of moderation, and it gave them pause. Tia found her response first.

    ¡°I think Gagaran is right. A schism like that would be devastating to the Kingdom. A lot of violence would spill over into the public space.¡±

    ¡°Tia, you can¡¯t¡­¡±

    Tia and Tina broke into a flurry of hand signals, a speechless language that - out of respect for the privacy of the twins - no one else had bothered to learn.

    ¡°Gagaran.¡±

    ¡°Yes boss?¡±

    ¡°You think we should avoid triggering a war- no, preventing one from occurring within Eight Fingers, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±

    ¡°How would we do that?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t in our control. We are choosing to fight Eight Fingers, but we cannot pick the responses they choose to take against us - or against themselves. Our only tool here is violence, and we don''t know who would or would not inspire conflict within that cabal. Tia, Tina, all of you. When we started down this path two months ago, we ensured that we could not turn back. We can¡¯t stop until Eight Fingers is wiped away entirely from this nation.¡±

    ¡°No offense boss, but Renner seems to think we can just damage them.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s being conservative. We haven¡¯t had the chance to speak with her yet about Fenthrop; in truth, we didn¡¯t know how effective our persecution would be. It doesn¡¯t feel like much, but we¡¯ve clearly shaken them to the core. The fact that heads are falling over to assassinate each other is proof of that. You all seem to see what the Count has told us as demoralizing, I feel the opposite. The fact is that this is a victory; we are winning this fight. We are in a position where we can seek the complete destruction of Eight Fingers, or at least the total decapitation of their leadership; at this point, those things are equivalent. I want you to understand we¡¯re in this to the end, I will not back down now, and neither will you. We¡¯re going to fuck them up.¡±

    Moving words.

    ¡°Ah. I can get behind that!¡±

    ¡°Agreed Evil Boss-¡±

    ¡°Fiendish Leader.¡±

    A short burst of clicks and pops filled the space as the recorder spurted to life, the machine soon falling into its mechanical rhythms of operation. Tia gave a confused look.

    ¡°I thought you set it to not record in here?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    Within the few seconds, parchment began spilling out of the device, Evileye catching some as it fell.

    ¡°My elbows are fucking killing me.¡± What is this? This reads like small-talk. ¡°We must have crawled for miles yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Ah, it looks like those rogues in pursuit of Fenthrop are still out there.¡±

    ¡°How can you tell? I didn¡¯t hear any bells.¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re talking.¡±

    ¡°No shit? What are they saying?¡±

    ¡°Nothing important. To think those bastards have been out for two days now in silence...¡±

    The group looked around awkwardly at each other. Being struck with the dedication of their enemy deflated the whole mass slightly. Lakyus broke it first, doing her best to keep the mood up.

    ¡°Evileye, you were working on a way to communicate with Her Highness.¡±

    Ah yes, that.

    ¡°It was just a matter of scoping Valencia¡¯s counterdivination defense. One moment.¡±

    Not like it was that hard. The wards themselves were only cast at tier two, but the droges went up to four. It would be a different story if we were talking about the Imperial Palace, but the Kingdom hasn¡¯t had a gifted caster in its service for the last two-hundred years. Although, there are rumors of that talent holder in E-Rantel. I¡¯ll need to snatch him up before anyone else does. Apprentices are so hard to manage though.

    Evileye ruffled through a drawer. She spent enough time in this room that it had become her study for all practicality, and it was filled with manuscripts and treatises on magic, the space filled with a menagerie of trinkets, whatsits, and doodads. Of these, she had a collection of scrolls she had accumulated over her two centuries of study, and she withdrew three.

    ¡°Do you have anything you want to say to her?¡±

    ¡°Tell her about Fenthrop. Can you get the transcript to her over that distance?¡±

    ¡°It''s written on mana-parchment, so no chance of it surviving unless it was in a shielded box, and I can¡¯t move one of those that far.¡±

    ¡°Shame, well let her know the basic outlines.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Extend Magic - Counter Detect; Extend Magic - False Cover; Extend and Penetrate Magic - Message.¡±

    Evileye magics were powerful, but Renner was over a dozen leagues distant, and for her tugs on worldthread to make it that far, tear through a defensive wall, and remain undetected was slightly beyond her. Square-Cube Law dictated that doubling the distance of a cast through metamagic required fourfold the mana, and while she could probably eke out all the extends necessary, the penetrate magical prefix pushed it out of her range for painless execution - exceeding that limit of hers by about forty angdynes. She made up the gap with scrolls, and as she threw each up and ignited them one at a time, she thickened the air with the ephemeral, drawing streaks of light and blue flame into a ring near three handspans in diameter. With it ready, she tapped the conflagration with her mind, pushing the system off its arcanadynamic equilibrium, ripping through space to connect the minds of her and the Princess.

    ¡ª

    ¡°And it turns out his master¡¯s other apprentice was actually working with underboss Nortoga.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that makes sense.¡±

    It sounds tropey. Thoughtless at best. Still, there is at least a little fun in thoughtlessness. Still, if he so took to it then maybe-

    ¡°Princess, don¡¯t panic, its Evileye.¡±

    Renner jumped slightly, startled by the sudden voice in her head. She guessed immediately that this was a message spell, but its coming was not expected, and she felt at best disoriented at the sensation of such communication.

    ¡°Keep calm. Just talk in your head, direct your inner vocalizations to me.¡±

    ¡°Like this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, exactly. Don¡¯t worry, I can¡¯t hear anything you may think.¡±

    That¡¯s good I suppose, still this feels odd.

    ¡°Your Highness? Is something wrong?¡±

    ¡°Eh? I¡­¡±

    I can¡¯t tell him, Nunia is still in the room. I and the Blue Roses forged code phrases in detail, but I haven¡¯t done so with Climb yet. This is an oversight.

    ¡°Princess?¡±

    Renner sighed internally. This was exactly the sort of wrong-footedness she had hoped to avoid by learning of magic. She had known Evileye was trying to devise a secure system of communication between the two that would avoid having to meet face-to-face, but she figured it would be an extension of the magic she had woven around the ledger, perhaps letters wrapped in a shadowy membrane. Such direct, immediate and - to Renner - violatory conversation was far beyond what she had anticipated.

    ¡°I just realized I forgot to get Vena a gift. I haven¡¯t seen her in some time, and she probably won¡¯t be at the palace for much longer. Shame.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can hit the districts tomorrow, Your Highness¡±

    ¡°If we have time.¡±

    ¡°Renner, this was mostly to test this method of communication. It seems like it works well.¡±

    It¡¯s uncomfortable; I dislike her boring into my head. I have only so previously feared for the privacy of my own thoughts from divine eyes, but now her too? She¡¯s impenetrable. Alas I¡¯m in no position to refuse this, nor should I for that matter.

    ¡°This does seem like the most convenient method possible. Still, aren¡¯t there defenses around the palace for this sort of thing?¡±

    ¡°Valencia¡¯s interception wards are slipshod. None go above the fourth tier. Oh, more importantly; an Eight Fingers puppet flipped, Fenthrop.¡±

    ¡°The Baron or the Count?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, the Count.¡±

    ¡°What has he said?¡±

    ¡°A lot, which we need to discuss in detail, but the important thing; Chardel- Princess- er, Your Highness, he thinks that Eight Fingers numbers forty thousand.¡±

    Why is that a shock to them? I thought that was clear from the investigations we pulled from the ledger? No, they seem continually caught unbraced for the magnitude of our opponent.

    ¡°That''s¡­ troubling. Also, I need you to look into someone.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Lord Keveleos, the Count.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°He came to me, and asked if I could put you in contact with him. I think he may be another turncoat.¡±

    ¡°Odd. Isn¡¯t he¡­ Royal Faction?¡±

    ¡°More so than the average rabble. He financially backed my push against slavery, gave quite a sum; which makes this even more confusing.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Oh, yeah about that. Fenthrop seems to think that the organization is falling in two.¡±

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°The head of the Banking Division was killed. Apparently they thought he was feeding us information. There''s a lot more, but apparently Eight Fingers is splitting into ¡®traditionalist¡¯ and ¡®reformist¡¯ halves. I¡¯m not sure on the details, and Fenthrop really didn¡¯t know much. We can discuss it more in detail later. When would you be available to meet?¡±

    ¡°How hasty can you be in arriving?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be conducting a raid.¡±

    ¡°That Black Dust refinery in E-Jundaskirk?¡±

    ¡°Yes. How did you- nevermind. We¡¯ll be there after the talks end. How are they going?¡±

    ¡°Poorly. I have little hope for an effective response.¡±

    ¡°Against the Theocracy?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Against the Noble Faction, although our counter to Slane is less than desired. I can fill you in with details then.¡±

    ¡°Acceptable. I¡¯m going to sever the connection, Your Highness. I bid you well.¡±

    ¡°You in twain.¡±

    The thread drawn between Renner and Evileye snapped, its invisible form dissolving into the flux of the manatic expanse.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Anything important?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she wants us to investigate a Count.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    The annoyance in Lakyus¡¯s voice was palpable. She struggled to get her teammates to communicate, and Evileye¡¯s curtness here felt like just another expression of the overwhelming effort it was to truly lead an adamantite group.

    ¡°No, but- It was¡­ odd talking to her.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°She speaks fast over a message link, far faster than she does verbally. I don¡¯t think she realizes it. In truth, I was struggling to keep up. Almost staccato.¡±

    ¡°All things considered, that''s not that surprising.¡±

    ¡°Somehow she knew about the raid we¡¯re doing.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°So she just deduced that we would be doing that, even though we haven¡¯t spoken in two weeks?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good Gods.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (11)

    [One Week Previous]

    The torrential rains that fell on Re-Robel extinguished all hope of a lively night. Men and women in the upper districts scrapped any plans they had kept hope in their hearts for; port merchants dismissed what dockworkers had stayed for nocturn duty, men scurrying back to their homes hands overhead to save at least a little dryness; urchins and paupers hid beneath overhangs and alleys, seeking comfort from the cold and the mist. All who stirred on the streets were watchmen, the desperate, and the underhanded. Chardel was a member of the third group, and he leaned against a side entrance to a tavern on one of the main thoroughfares. He watched the comings and goings of people through the haze, felt his hands numb as the bitterness of the rain - unusual for this time of year - sapped his warmth and left him chilled. He spied a man approaching, cutting through the gloom. Sensing it was his time, he called out.

    ¡°Rain is brutal tonight, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it brutal.¡±

    This has to be him. Seems a tad daft though.

    ¡°Say, you know any good pie stands around.¡±

    ¡°Five, three of which are good.¡±

    Chardel made no movement, letting slip no tell that his code phrase had just been reciprocated. He swept his eyes up and down the man, picking out what he could from his neutral pose.

    He¡¯s taller than I expected, and that accent of his. He¡¯s a northerner. His stance is good. Wouldn''t be able to tell he had a blade on him from a distance. His lean is off though, reckon he''s carrying one on his right leg, maybe a few in that coat. His left wrist is stiff too, one stuffed in there. Southpaw.

    ¡°You were briefed?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking we scale the east wall, go in through the second story window to the study.¡±

    ¡°Why? Packet said otherwise.¡±

    Ah, he¡¯s novice. Shit.

    ¡°Indoor patrols run faster. Better to stay outside, gives us more time between passes.¡±

    His companion nodded, and Chardel fastened his cloak tighter, and leaned forward away from the wall. He had no desire to waste time and wished to accomplish their objective - even before the night reached its nadir.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

    ¡ª [Five Days Previous]

    Count Fenthrop¡¯s demesne had been empty. Not of the guards, of course, and when Chardel¡¯s and his companion Pock had broken in they had found themselves in a tight melee. The pair managed to get the drop on two of the hired men, and slew another three before escaping. To their annoyance, they had found that the Count had made away earlier in the night. It had taken another day to pin down exactly where he was fleeing too and muster steeds for the cause of running him down. Chardel and Pock now rode flat out, making their way east with speed. With the matter of acquiring the resources necessary for pursuit finally settled - itself a day of turmoil and restlessness - to be now faced with the endless distance between them in their mark gave  Chardel the time to process his thoughts.

    He may not be much of a skulk, but he¡¯s certainly a good fighter. No disrespect to the ¡®and¡¯, I suppose.

    It was not possible to ride at speed and wear a hood, and the sun overhead framed Pock¡¯s head clearly. His hair was a fiery red, and although close-cut, still whipped brilliantly in the wind.

    Red hair. Definitely a Northerner, probably a Drell. Wonder what he¡¯s doing here. Probably looking for better work. Not sure what¡¯s left up there.

    They rode swiftly, passing a cluster of farmhands grazing their animals. Chardel looked at a few of their cows, and although passing too quickly to evaluate the health of their stock, they looked thin. Had they the time, he would have suggested dismounting, running off the farmers, and taking one of the fatter animals. The road they galloped down was side enough to give them enough time to strip at least a few good cuts off of an animal. Fenthrop¡¯s flight gave them no such slack.

    Hard to tell who he fled with. The men at his demesne said something about Knights Penlan and Iliaden. ¡°You fatherless bastards won¡¯t get past Knight Penlan-¡± Something similar to that, at least.

    The pair crested a hill, the expanse of the wheat fields around them seeming to stretch forever into the horizon. Beyond that, wooden fences found their ends, and the wild wabe stretched on ever further. Even here in the heartland, the Kingdom was not a complete place. Pock stroked his mare¡¯s reins, and for the first time Chardel saw his right hand clearly.

    He¡¯s missing his two forefingers.

    Chardel found himself short for time, dismissing the subject to instead keep close watch on the road ahead. He peered into the far field, and running his gaze along the road ahead he caught a fork in its progression. The rain had left the soil malleable enough to be marked by cartwheels. He traced the path of one of one such track, watching it turn off to the right.

    That¡¯s them.

    Chardel rose from his low stance, having been leaning into the wind to avoid catching as hard. Setting his left hand in his mouth, he blew a sharp whistle, at the same time giving a hand signal with his dexter, holding his arm stock and flat to his right. Pock turned back, and nodded in acknowledgement. Descending the hill, Chardel lost sight of the wilderness in the distance. They approached the bend and kept right, never breaking their horses from their full pace.

    ¡ª [Three days Previous]

    The campfire provided the pair little comfort. This was not simply because they kept it low, it putting off barely enough heat to simmer a meal. They found it a hollow respite precisely because they had failed to track down their target. Two riders on horseback would far and away exceed any drawn carriage in haste, and thus they should have caught their target by now. When it became clear that Fenthrop had slipped from the main course of the road from Re-Robel in an east-north-easterly direction, Chardel had surmised that the man was heading towards the city of Re-Estize, likely to the perceived safety of the capital¡¯s Adventurers Guild. He and Pock thus devised a scheme to cut the path of the road, wait a league outside the village of Namarai, and catch Fenthrop when he passed.

    I can¡¯t believe this. Where could he be going? This was supposed to be an easy assignment.

    When the day fell low and no quarry came upon the sight of their lurking, it became clear that Chardel¡¯s gambit had failed. Scrambling to figure out why, the pair had rode into Namarai, Pock paying a sum to a local farmhand, who revealed that their marks again broke northward. They rode as much as they could, which was disappointingly little. The last few days of catching up to, and then attempting to exceed Fenthrop had left their horses exhausted, and although they had ridden over twenty leagues that day, they were less than half that distance closer to the Count.

    He¡¯s heading north of Re-Estize. North of Re-Estize¡­ What¡¯s out there?

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Chardel was half-laying, leaned against a tree. He pitched his body to his side, withdrawing a map from his bag. He had thrown it in haphazardly, his rough treatment of the thing born from frustration twelve minutes prior when he estimated the scant distance they had gained on their mark. Uncurling it gently, he was relieved to see it was not frayed or torn, and by firelight (for the world had already fallen too deep into the penumbra), he went about tracing his path with his fingers.

    A number of villages up there, but little else. Shit. Does he have an in with a local Baron? Even a town mayor, or village chief? That could turn into a fortnight of hunting, and we¡¯d without a doubt lose him. We could always ride back to his demesne and wait, but his return could take months, and he would come in force when he does. We need to run him down fast, before he can disappear into the countryside.

    ¡°Pock.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°How many waterskins do you have left?¡±

    ¡°Three full. Another two-thirds spent.¡±

    ¡°Drink the rest of that before sleeping.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re rising early?¡±

    Huh. He knows the water trick? Man of the crescent moon. After my own heart. Does Fenthrop fear we¡¯re after him? He nearly shook us by deflecting north. No, doing so at Namarai would make him either a damn soothsayer, or luckier than the Greed Kings themselves.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to. Fenthrop¡¯s been riding at night¡±

    Chardel chuckled silently to himself, closing his eyes and cracking his neck in the process. His body hurt. He was twenty-six, a grizziled veteran in the Assassination Division. Over a decade of wetwork had taken its pound of flesh from him; what was left was stringy, tough, and increasingly run thin. Even before that, he was a petty street criminal, dragging poor-souls into back alleys and taking his due. For his part, he had survived long enough for the work to actually pay off. Waylaying Fenthrop was the last in a string of assignments, a test of worthiness for promotion to enforcer.

    There¡¯s a mark here for an abandoned keep. I wonder if he has a hideout there. Cunning if so. That¡¯s what, ten leagues north of the city? We could make that distance by dawn, just barely by our pacing however.

    ¡°Pock, I think I know where he¡¯s headed.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    Chardel rolled the map and handed it to Pock. He had been tending to the fire, trying to eke out a hot meal on the plain; this was nothing but heating some pemmican, but they had both endured worse meals. He ladled over the fat that had rendered out, trying his best to keep the meal as filling as possible.

    ¡°You see those villages north of Re-Estize? There¡¯s a dilapidated keep nestled in there. Next to Re-Junda. Do you think we can make it there in time?¡±

    Pock let the map furl open with one hand, looking at it, his eyes darting rapidly and forth. After a few moments, he turned back to Chardel and nodded.

    He didn¡¯t even look at it. Ah. He can¡¯t read.

    Chardel beckoned with his arm, and Pock returned the map. Chardel caught sight of Pock¡¯s right hand again.

    Severed fingers¡­ Severed fingers, experienced fighter, Drell. He was one of the Grayguard. Gods above. That¡¯s a war I wouldn¡¯t have wanted to see.

    Chardel looked at his comrade not with true pity, but something more akin to an understanding of the suffering he had endured.

    It makes sense. Even though he¡¯s still green to professional wetwork, he¡¯s cunning in his fights, and in finding places to lurk. He¡¯s probably spent as many nights in fields waiting for the earth-fated to approach as have I, and he¡¯s five-score moons more a yewling. They lopped off his fingers as punishment for rebellion? No, if you were thought to be a Grayguard, they just hung you. He probably was just around; brother or son of one. Maybe he picked up arms after. To think he got away - managed to make it down this far south.

    Chardel spun a small section of twine around the map, tying it. He slipped it into his bag, but paused, not pulling his arm back from the satchel.

    That keep there. It read abandoned, not dilapidated. That map was something I got from Vetha back before he bit it, and it was an heirloom even for him. Villages don¡¯t move or disappear, but that keep could easily have been reoccupied. Vexing. I know not if they¡¯re even headed there, and I find myself consumed with hypotheticals.

    Chardel exhaled, feeling a mote of bitterness brewing in his soul. He hoped for a hasty end.

    ¡ª [40th of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    Shit. There''s mud on the lense. Can¡¯t see a thing.

    Chardel rolled onto his left side and withdrew a cloth from one of his breast pockets. Holding the spyglass with his left hand, he collapsed the spyglass with the back of his right hand, shortening it enough to clean it. He gave a few short wipes with a cleaning rag, inspected it, and wiped it further. Telescoping it out, he peered through the eyepiece, only to be disappointed.

    This isn''t coming clean. I drank all my distillate too. Gods. To think they ran to the company of the Blue Roses.

    He collapsed the spyglass again, rolling back onto his right side to look at the man to his left. He was also prone in the mud, the two of them framed by plainsgrasses that nearly matched the height of their chest while standing.

    ¡°Pock, you have any distillate?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, what¡¯s it to you?¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    ¡°After you skimped-silvers on me the last town back? Making me pay that boy myself? Yes, I¡¯m serious.¡±

    ¡°That was just three coppers. Are you¡­ you can¡¯t be¡­ that¡¯s absurd.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what it¡¯ll cost you, three coppers.¡±

    ¡°Three coppers?¡±

    ¡°Three coppers.¡±

    I can¡¯t believe this shit. I knew Pock was miserly, but this is mad.

    Chardel dug through another side pocket of his, withdrawing a little money from his satchel. Pulling out a coin, he pinched its ends between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it with his opposite index. Pock snatched it out of the air without looking.

    ¡°Here you go, my lordship, one standard aurim of silver for the whole thing.¡±

    Youth like you ought to have more respect for those who proceed you. You won¡¯t climb far here with an attitude like that. Perhaps in Security. They have plenty taste for the brash.

    A small vial was thrown back, Chardel catching it and rapidly undoing its top. Its cap unscrewed, Chardel caught a whiff of the liquid, his nose curling at the scent. Distillate like this was never meant to be consumed straight, always mixed in with another drink. It served both as a way to wet oneself on long journeys, finding its place among other long term rations like jerkies and hardtack. It also doubled as cleaning fluid, a use for which Chardel found himself in need. He rolled back into his elbows, spying his target in the distance.

    ¡°This stuff is strong. What¡¯s it proof at?¡±

    ¡°One-Eighty.¡±

    ¡°...That¡¯s not bad.¡±

    ¡°I buy the good stuff.¡±

    So you¡¯ll spendscant with me, but blow your wages on quality drink? Pock, you aren¡¯t a miser, but an alcoholic. Fitting for a Drell.

    Chardel wetted the cleaning rag with the alcohol, and began to work on cleaning the lense. With a few brisk and forceful wipes, it gained a visible shine. Grinning at his work, he resealed the vial, pocketed the cloth, and extended the spyglass again. He was happy to see he could make out the keep in the distance clearly.

    Fenthrop¡¯s men come out at least five times a day to care for the horses, but they always travel in triplets. It would be difficult to engage into such a number, especially if they¡¯re knights. At least two of them wear full plate. In addition, that woman in the red robe comes out from time to time and looks around. I think that¡¯s Evileye. No clue what she¡¯s doing though. This is making me nervous. I can¡¯t understand why the handler did not release us from this assignment, why shift priorities from Fenthrop to-

    It was at that moment that Chardel felt a blade press up against his throat. His peripheral vision confirmed Pock befell the same fate.

    ¡°Don¡¯t squirm.¡±

    ¡°That is, if you want to live.¡±

    He felt a weight come to rest on his back, a lock of blond hair falling across his head to his right, as well as what he identified as the tailing of a red hair tie.

    That¡¯s¡­ one of the twins we saw. Shit.

    ¡°You know, I always thought the phrase ¡®I could hear you for miles¡¯ was apocryphal. You two deserve at least some gratitude for teaching me otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    Chardel sighed painfully, a sense of despair gripping him. There was no point in fighting to escape his captor. He knew the rumors of the Twin Killers, less so as enemies of his masters, but as assassins whose names and deeds were nearing the status of legends in the dark circles which he came from. Further, that despite his presumade superiority in raw strength by virtue of his sex, he possessed only a fraction of the lethality and might of the woman who¡¯s knife had made a small mark across his throat. Pock tried where Chardel did not, he having espoused his complete disbelief in the glory of the Blue Roses. He pushed up, trying to throw the woman off of him to spin and draw his blade. He didn¡¯t get off the ground, she slit his throat calmly. Pock died proud.

    Fucking idiot.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (12)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    By the same token that did the cups of those present overbrim, sights, sounds, smells, and most critically tastes filled Valencia¡¯s great hall, rendering it a sensorium in truest fashion. It was furnished at expense, befitting the glory of Re-Estize, although not quite the heights of lavishness achieved by the more private spaces of the palace. Neither would this happen, unless a King both foolish and spendthrift took the throne, for this space was meant to be a place of quantity and the abundance of those present was only surpassed by the bounty of food and drink being served.

    Pint upon pint of high-blood flows here. How rare a thing this must be. Is it not frighteningly unlikely that I would be counted among such a number? To be near the apex of such a gathering? A chance of what, five against nine million, or an even more nigh uncountable sum when the multiplicity of those forgiegn to these lands are counted. Strange that I would now consider that, for I have been so surrounded by those of such exalted status all my life. That ought to have made these thoughts terribly obvious, no? Why now? I seem to have a growing ability to aim my critical considerations inward. How utilitarian.

    Renner tried to arrest her thoughts, bringing them closer to the immediacy of the moment. She let the noise of the space pour into her, floating on the dissonant choir of voices. The banquet was itself in intermission, the second of seven courses having just been cleared. Renner could not be bothered to estimate a cost for the affair, but such was the glory - or in the colder framing of her mind¡¯s materialism, the size - of the Kingdom that a feast would merely dent the coffers. Considering taxation rates, such events could be conducted in repetition and not break the breach to unsustainability, a rate of around six per year. Compared to this, the ball for Renner¡¯s birthday was cost-conscious.

    How could I have ever found normality in this? Perhaps repetition? The oftness of what we find fond robs the world of luster. Yes, in repetition there is not sustained euphoria but obliteration. Thus something like this could twist as it has; on the face of it a national pride, yet it slips into the quagmires of the most petty sort of thrusts and repostes. Ah, I have found the exit to this train of thought. Once again my feet brush the ground. To be the king of a kingdom of rats does imply a pebble of cunning, and I must say father, this is a brutal use of the manner of Abellion seating.

    Renner shackled her mind to political realms; in specificity, to its spatial expression. Within the nobility, entire schools of thought existed on the matter of the arrangement of seats at formal events. Of such, this banquet was an instantiation of what was termed Abellion Seating. The term was crude, a rendering of the coming-of-age celebrations practiced by the horse lords and nomads of the southern south east so butchered as to border on unintentional insult and parody. The longhouses of the Abellion peoples necessitated via their construction a floor plan through which several halved and planed logs could run its length to serve as a mealspace. Filtered through distance, time, and apathy, this had turned into a tradition of the Re-Estize nobility. Renner, sitting at the most important of tables, fixated on the seating chart Ramposa had conjured.

    The gall you have father! It¡¯s intoxicating. Setting the space with six premier tables and then denying Lytton one, instead sticking him on a wing? In a greater torsion of the knife you stabbed at him, to have that sixth seat be filled with not another count or even a false marquis cross margrave, but the Knight-Lord and his Marshals? You couldn¡¯t be more blatant! How captivating on your part. To have five of the six filled tables be filled with people who are nominally capable of passing as allies, it¡¯s as if you have isolated Boullope as the only member of the Nobility faction.

    The attendants had pushed together several tables end to end and used that to center the space of the great hall. With that as a throughline, a number of tables with gaps left between them accounting to proportional length of the central table were set parallel to it, these for guests of significant stature. Then on the outside of those tables there were more, faced perpendicular, for guests of lesser importance. At one end of the whole assembly fitted row after row of the least considered, and on the other, a separate table for the King and his family. The misunderstanding in the affair came with the central ¡°long-table¡±, of which the adolescent sons of all those present would come to sit, only them doing so. Barbro and Zanac were excused from this, as were a few of the soon-to-be Counts and other firstborns to status. Renner cooled her praise of her father.

    However, the operative phrase in that sentence is ¡°as if¡±. There are several ironies here, but starting with the strings from which the valiant highbloods of this rodent Kingdom dangle, Vellen¡¯s to Boullope, and Blumrush¡¯s to El-Nix; that cuts the number to three. Second, the one you hold the most suspicion against, Raeven, is more loyal to you than Urovana. Ah, no the count is not out of six but seven. Even my brother finds himself on the strings of a marionette. How skilled can a hand with eight fingers dance a puppet? Once again the Six Gods find themselves a worthless venture. In a world such as this, there is no cause in worshiping the helius; love of the son is just as blinding.

    The sound of doors swinging wide confirmed that the next course had arrived, Renner finding an odd congruity between its number and her thoughts. To think it held significance was to fall prey to delusion, and she chidded herself lightly on this basis. She did not bother spying the dish before a plate was placed in front of her, for to her, it truly did not matter. The royal family was to be served first, and this night, that included her sister. Vena Unsandra Telon Ryle Vaiself, or now named Pespea in place of her previous indicator of bloodline, was similar in appearance to Renner. Although not a stone-mason¡¯s copy, and even if the eight year gap in their ages could be undone, she would look no more than similar to Renner. They had the same golden, flowing locks of hair - although tonight Vena was wearing an intricate top-bun in contrast to Renner¡¯s plainer appearance. The Marquis had released his wife from her duties by his side, allowing her to sit with her father, brothers, and half-sister. Head chef Rennac made his appearance, and introduced the course to Ramposa personally, presenting him with the first plate.

    ¡°A wonderful great pheasant in a reduced-¡±

    Culinary hack. Great pheasant is a bird without any true flavor on its bones. The meat of its lesser counterpart is a far more palatable occasion, not to mention tastier. You simply care about its size. How base.

    Renner let the rest of that sentence blank. She disliked Rennac, and although she couldn¡¯t place her finger on why she felt so averse, was sure she could come up with a firm backing to her intuition if she had the need too. Barbro, Zanac, Vena, then lastly Renner got their plates. The only thing of note to Renner was the wine pairing. She knew little of its constitution and could rouse in herself nothing more than apathy on the subject of its making, but it had a pleasurable taste none-the-less.

    Almost puts me in mind of an apple. I wonder how that''s done. I believe Urovana trades in wine, though surprising considering how northern his domain is. He must import his vintages.

    Renner let her eyes drift to Urovana, his table stageright of the King, by her reckoning another nice touch of her father¡¯s. Her eyes pierced past his wisined form to spy a man sitting on a table behind him, Keveleos.

    Ah, him. I can¡¯t harness an adequate explanation for your actions, count. To think a man so deep in the grasp of Eight Fingers would so publicly fight against their aims, not with talk but with action.

    Renner was hit suddenly with a duel realization.

    What am I saying? Is that not perfectly reasonable? Do my fellow highbloods not do the same thing on a near constant basis? Why do I assume competency in my enemies? Again, foolishness on my part. My assumptions are ripping at the seams. If what Evileye had spoken of approached truth, although likely stretched and warped through the chain of conversations which lead to it, it does seem plausible such a thing could happen. Factionalism in Eight Fingers. It seems almost optimistic.

    She smiled a little wider, catching his gaze and nodding at him. He silently greeted back. There was no chance of them speaking to him until the end of the fifth course, for which there would be a break. Renner picked at her plate, taking a few exploratory bites. She deemed her earlier assumptions about Rennac completely correct, wishing the dish had achieved a more harmonious flavor. Even if it had, she had no intent to actually consume any of it in quality. Eating any of the banquet stages in depth was a task of monument, and such voracity was something Renner reserved only for Climb.

    Ah, I understand. I fell prey to the image they attempted to cultivate. They project themselves as an intractable, indefatigable bastion of indecency. Of course that¡¯s what they want their enemies to think of them. The witless dismiss their existence outright, but the half-witted fear them. What of the witful? Alliance? That could explain Fenthrop, although that would indicate him to be in the kinship of the vulpine creatures of this world. I think that not to be a hazardous leap. After all, he made that play with Nunia.

    Actually, that does remind me of someone, Raeven. He sometimes does openly act materially against the goals of the Royals, although I suspect this is only his cover. Not unsurprising. Although, that may be only a familiarity, not a congruity. ¡°Reformists versus traditionalists¡± seems to be not an unparalleled dynamic in the politics of this nation. Certainly it has occurred in Baharuth. Evileye why did you so skimp on information? How am I supposed to engage in cognition for something you¡¯ve given me nothing of besides the nomenclature? Aggravating in the least.

    Renner sighed quietly, the clamor of the hall subsuming her voice beneath the surf of others. She had not found any adequate assemblage of what Evileye had said, and she feared simply needing to wait for their next meeting.

    She was surprised when I mentioned their raid in E-Jundaskirk. I thought it was a reasonable approximation based on the rate of their activities, but they seemed to think otherwise. No, again I stake myself in the ground by expectations and performance of others. That deduction was obvious. Honestly, she¡¯s far more readable over a Message link. It''s a simple conclusion to make, but she must hide a rich inner world behind that mask of hers, her thinking abundant. I suppose any magic practitioner would need to suffer as such, or perhaps it be the byproduct of her breeding. Is she of some elucidated kind? Does she possess a blood that by its very presence bears knowledge? Perhaps that is reductionary.

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    Eh? Oh, of the meal.

    ¡°We so rarely have great pheasant. It''s quite nice¡±

    ¡°I suppose. In truth, I¡¯ve always thought its smaller brethren tasted better.¡±

    Not untrue, Vena.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t particularly know.¡±

    Renner felt forced to maintain one of her duller personas. Such large events necessitated additional care to the keeping of masks, and unlike war councils where she could simply sit silent and look lame of mind, moments like this meant she actually had to back her facial expressions with speech. She felt no cause to expose herself.

    ¡°Well, I do. Ah, Renner?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I did send you a gift for your birthday-¡±

    ¡°That kohl! Yes, I tried it on the next day. It was quite nice, although I fear I won¡¯t get the opportunity to wear it often.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Ah, no that makes sense. Doesn¡¯t particularly match the look you maintain.¡±

    Vena pulled her mouth to the side, clicking her tongue as she did.

    Ah, she didn¡¯t think that gift out at all. Was I an afterthought? Plausibly, but more likely she simply found it and felt fond towards it, not considering my realities.

    ¡°No, I love it! It¡¯s quite nice.¡±

    ¡°In any case, it did feel inadequate on my part to not give you something in person while I was here. Would you want to come hit the districts with me tomorrow? Supposedly there¡¯s a hatmaker from Arwintar who moved here to one of the upper quarters.¡±

    Not a horrible idea, but there is to be a followup war council tomorrow, and it''s not as if I could be released. Nor would I want to.

    ¡°Well, father mentioned that there would be some more discussions-¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. You still have your duties as the one princess who¡¯s still in Valencia.¡±

    Is that a jab, envy, or a synthesis of the two? I wonder what Pespea is like. Not the face he bears in politics, but the one he shows to you. Is he caring, considerate? He engaged you at age eleven, married at twelve. Yet he did not make you bear children until sixteen, no? Surely that speaks for something, it must. Not like how it was for-

    ¡°Say, Renner, you spy that man over there, filed between my husband¡¯s and Bolloupe¡¯s table?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I see him.¡±

    Ah that¡¯s some son of a baron. Lord Jelka¡¯s, I believe. Not our darling defensive coordinator, but perhaps a distant relative.

    ¡°I have it on good authority that he''s to marry our sister in law.¡±

    ¡°The sister of¡­ Gilbert?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the very same. Anyway, I was thinking of pestering my husband to release me to such an event.¡±

    Renner giggled lightly at her eldest sister¡¯s framing, inwardly feeling a sense of foreboding.

    ¡°You speak of yourself like a housepet.¡±

    This was the first time this year that Renner had actually spoken aloud a true thought of hers, less than was usual for her. She typically managed to make it a semiannual occurrence, finding opportunities to sprinkle in more accurate reflections of her inner world. Renner made no habit of it, for she knew it would be dangerous to do so on anything but the most limited of scales. Of course, she had pitched her voice lightly and with a wry undertone, her timbre hiding the fact that she had just expressed a genuine observation.

    ¡°Eh? Sister, I never knew you to be a comedian. I¡¯ll have to tell Zanac to give up his laurel for most clownish Ryle.¡±

    ¡°Our youngest brother?¡±

    Vena laughed far more genuinely than she had at any point previous tonight, Renner giving a preformative chuckle in tandem. She rarely got the opportunity to poke jabs at Barbro, but she felt herself robbed of the humor her sister was so indulging in. A combination of the noise of the hall, her distance from others - for the family sat in the order of Zanac, Barbro, Ramposa, Vena, and Renner from stage left to right - and her low tone had saved it from reaching the ears of anyone but Vena. Vena being her sister made this all the easier, the pair of them sharing an experience of greater congruence compared to their brothers. Ramposa turned to look at the pair, an aged smile growing on his face. He loved the laughter of his daughters. Vena and Renner smiled at him, knowing this would assuage him from asking the content of their moment together. Vena turned back to Renner with a forlorn twinkle in her eye.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    - Start of TW Material

    ¡°Lulara would be there.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°It would be good to see her again.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Their middle sister was a rough subject. They both found speaking of her uncomfortable, doubly so for her husband, Count Gilbert Educlen Gell Selusa. For all that Renner feared Vena¡¯s fate as the wife of a do-nothing Marquis, Lulara was a different matter.

    How you, father, could ever make the mistake to marry her to that man I will never understand; nor will I forgive you for. Vena gets little freedom - I¡¯m sure of it - but her? Gilbert has shot so far past the conventions on the other side of liberty. She¡¯s practically livestock for that man. After that ceremony, she was wiped from the face of the earth. I¡¯ve only seen her¡­ what, thrice since? The last time. She had that smile of hers on her face, that mask she wore. Not inherently unbecoming for a princess, but the way she trembled at the sound of his voice. Her eyes.

    Renner could no longer hold her anxieties on the subject down, and she shuddered at the thought. She was not simply afraid of what happened to her sister, she was terrified. It was both from the combination of her age when it had happened and the reality of the event that had made it such a scarring experience. She had been too consumed in herself (and in her newfound toy in Climb) when Vena was married to find it truly disturbing, too disparate in age to interact on a regular basis. Lulara had been a different story. Only two years older than Renner, they had actually played together as children; and although Renner struggled to relate to her as she did with all who surrounded her, the memories held at least a little warmth. She made it to age twelve before a suitor approached with a competitive offer. At the time Renner knew nothing of it, and even in retrospect did not have the stomach to learn of it, but Gilbert¡¯s had been a clever ploy - whatever it had been. The result of it had been her marriage to him.

    It¡¯s strange, after it was finalized, her and he simply vanished into the ?ther. He never comes to events like this anymore, events which by all rights and responsibilities attached to his title he should be attending. He is a count, no? Why does he so flaunt obligations like this, even if not codified in written law? She was not just wiped away from it; no, the earth opened up and swallowed her. She¡¯s been hollowed, like that of a shell. What¡¯s left was not the being I knew, but simply her body. The flesh and nothing more.

    The experience, even by proxy, was formative.

    I can¡¯t let that happen to me. Even if I cannot get myself Raeven¡¯s son, I can deal with a Pespea, a Lytton, a Blumrush. It can¡¯t be a Selusa. Never a Selusa.

    Renner could not abate her turmoil. She took a sip of her wine, and was disappointed to find it that it had emptied into her mouth.

    A second cup, then.

    - End of TW Material

    ¡ª

    Lakyus paced back and forth, visibly agitated. Their prisoner was proving tough to crack.

    This is isn¡¯t typical of Assassination. Security tends to have more resilient men. Blame it on the viciousness of their training, and that of Six Arms. Maybe he¡¯s a transfer? Those can happen. Either way, we need to break him fast enough; don¡¯t want to release Fenthrop into a trap.

    Gagaran threw a sucker punch at the man, his head rapidly twisting and bouncing back from the torsion. He grunted and spat out the slag of a tooth suspended in a vile mixture of spit, stomach bile, and blood. It didn¡¯t get far, simply staining his binds a brownish red. His face was alight with colors, the sites of contusions morphing into unpleasant blues, blacks, and purples. This was not her first strike, and would not be her last. His voice was weak, but was underscored by a strong determination.

    ¡°You¡­ didn¡¯t even¡­ ask a question that time.¡±

    ¡°Whoops. Guess I forgot.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you¡­ going to at least ask my name?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    He hung his head, but even that didn¡¯t provide respite from the pain. His chin was split, and more blood spilt from his face onto his bonds. Lakyus finally felt prepared to continue. She inwardly thanked Gagaran for giving her a little respite from the brutality.

    I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m letting myself get so worked up. I was this way earlier, too. Gave that embaressing fucking speech, but they all seemed to buy it. I think I¡¯m really starting to hate these bastards. I have more will to end this fight than I did when we started. Who knows, maybe this is the personal growth Gagaran is always talking about; although I get the feeling she wasn¡¯t talking about bitterness. Ah I need a line. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again¡±? Yeah, let¡¯s go with that.

    ¡°Alright, let''s try this again. Why were you lurking out there for two days straight? Fenthrop can¡¯t possibly be that valuable, no?¡±

    ¡°We¡­ we were trying¡­ trying to get your autographs.¡±

    Silence hung in the room for a moment too long. Lakyus eventually had to snap her fingers, Gagaran only then throwing another slug into their quarry¡¯s face. Lakyus gave her a quizzical look.

    ¡°Sorry boss, I didn¡¯t know what an autograph was. I thought he was finally answering.¡±

    The man broke out laughing, quickly earning himself a third strike. Lakyus turned away, rubbing her face in frustration. He vomited from the pain. Evileye could not stop herself from prodding at Gagaran for her mistake.

    ¡°Musclemounds, you don¡¯t know what an autograph is?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t! Tia, Tina. Back me up here.¡±

    ¡°Yeah I don¡¯t know either.¡±

    ¡°Same.¡±

    None of you are cosmopolitan at all.

    ¡°Next time we¡¯re in the capital I¡¯m taking you to a theater.¡±

    ¡°Affirmative, Evil Boss-¡±

    ¡°Fiendish leader.¡±

    Another laugh, another strike.

    ¡°Oy, loverboy, what¡¯s so funny about that?¡±

    ¡°Off¡­ to see¡­ the capital?¡±

    ¡°Aw, of course darling. You want the Women of Mystery to bring you back a souvenir?¡±

    ¡°You fucks¡­ ¡®friends¡¯ of the¡­ royal family? I bet¡­ you play them for fools. Esp-especially that¡­ bitch.¡±

    Lakyus felt the hair on her neck stand stock straight. She turned slowly back to the man, a grin fighting its way through the swelling and bruises. She spoke first, her voice low and rage filled.

    ¡°What did you say?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­ what you do? Every month¡­ one of you packs up¡­ to go see her? Pops down¡­ to Valencia. The¡­ fucking¡­ Princess?¡±

    His breathing was labored, and although he tried to laugh again, after the expulsion of air it turned into a horrid coughing fit. More blood came up, the man desperately trying to pull down gulps of air between the fits and starts of his respiration. Lakyus snapped her fingers again, and his head bounced once more.

    ¡°What do you know about the Princess?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ what got¡­ your attention?¡±

    Snap. Strike.

    ¡°What do you know about the Princess?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ just a tool¡­ right? Makes¡­ sense¡­ gives you¡­ the excuse to go to the palace¡­¡±

    ¡°What do you know about that?¡±

    ¡°Why¡­ should I-¡±

    Gagaran struck him again, shattering his nose further.

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    His head sunk lower, his twitches and jerks weaker and less often. He was close to death, voice trailing off.

    Fuck! No matter what we do, they fear Six Arms more than us. Rumors of the horrible things they do permeate the entire organization. There¡¯s nothing we can do here without resorting to more brutal technique, and I¡¯m not comfortable with anything more than a beating.

    One of their last actions had netted them half an interrogation report penned by Security, likely by a member of Six Arms themselves. Half of it was burnt beyond recognition, but the tortures they described committing - inflicted on one of their own, no less - had made everyone with the exception of Evileye sick.

    Disemboweling is one thing, but forcing a man to do it himself lest he be killed? That path would be easier. Gods, I¡¯m getting delusional. No, we can¡¯t do anything like that to him. Shit! I need a careful bluff here. Make him think we would treat him as bad.

    ¡°Minor Cure Wounds.¡±

    Some of the cuts and bruises on his face sealed, his form being bolstered with at least a little vitality. Lakyus pulled her hand back and evaluated the repairs she had made to his body.

    ¡°Maybe you think we can¡¯t be compared to your task masters. That when we release you to the prison system, they¡¯ll simply snatch you up and make you suffer tenfold for everything you let slip here. Maybe you¡¯ve read the reports and shuddered, or perhaps witnessed these ¡®interrogations¡¯ yourself. Tell me, do you know how many of your comrades we¡¯ve released to the whims of judges and jails?¡±

    The swelling had receded enough on his right eye for Lakyus to peer into it, her leaning in to do so. It burned with hatred, a loathing of the woman in front of him.

    ¡°Twenty-Seven. Do you know how many we¡¯ve captured alive?¡±

    His eye widened, understanding the meaning of her words.

    ¡°Thirty-six. Tell me, would you be willing to make the count of those who came into our hands alive but never left ten?¡±

    The numbers Lakyus gave were true, although completely misleading. Three of those nine had been suicides. Another four had been unintentional deaths, prisoners dying of wounds accumulated in the process of their capture on the journey back to their keep.

    I hope this works.

    Chardel¡¯s eye darted, moving desperately from place to place. Lakyus continued to look into it, a near perfect rendering of intimidating and coercive tactics. He fluttered it, closed it, and after a few moments opened it. His mouth quivered open, spittle dripping out.

    ¡°Fuck¡­ you.¡±

    Lakyus closed her eyes, vexed beyond what she had thought possible. The final two of those nine had been like this, willing to die for the cause, true believers of Eight Fingers. It was devastating to do, but to not kill them and instead release them into the infernal engine of the legal system would have been worse. If Eight Fingers knew that the Blue Roses would release them alive even if they didn¡¯t talk, no one would cooperate. Evileye had done the dirty work then, and Lakyus sighed, knowing her associate would need to do so tonight as well. Lakyus spoke once more, her voice robbed of any force or emotion.

    ¡°Evileye.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s retaliation was confusing, and Lakyus could not help but chafe at her response.

    ¡°Do you need me to do it? You were the one who agreed to handle this-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±

    Evileye suddenly pulled herself in close to the prisoner, and in a completely unexpected act, violently removed her mask. Throwing it into a corner, she leveled her eyes with that of the prisoner.

    ¡°What are your orders?¡±

    The voice bored into Lakyus, and it took her a few seconds to recognize it as being Evileye¡¯s. A ring she wore on her left ring finger rapidly changed color from a translucent white to a deep red. It indicated the presence of compulsion magics, a warning to let others know that the bearer may be spellbound. Everyone but Evileye and the prisoner shuddered at the noise.

    ¡°Observe and monitor the movements of the Blue Roses.¡±

    His voice was monotone, robbed of all color and defiant timbre. A slack smile curled on his face, a look of intoxified endearment.

    I had no idea Evileye was an enchantress, or at least party to those magics. Why hasn¡¯t she been using this before?

    ¡°Your orders were not to tail and waylay Count Fenthrop?¡±

    No, if she was an enchantress she would have been using those spells. It''s too useful to not do so. This is something else.

    ¡°Those were our original orders. We received new orders this morning via message spell. To monitor the movements of you, and report to the Death-Spreading Brigade if you attempt to depart.¡±

    ¡°Who is the Death-Spreading Brigade? Are they a component force of the Security Division?¡±

    ¡°No, they are unaffiliated highwaymen who accept contract work. They have skilled bladesmen among their ranks.¡±

    Evileye turned away from the prisoner, towards Lakyus. For the first time, Lakyus saw her face.

    It¡¯s not squat like a gnome or halfling, nor are her features sharpened like those of an elf. She looks like a twelve year old girl, human at that. Her skin is pale, far more than it should be. Eyes are a tame burgundy, not natural. Could she be a Rainbow Eye? I wasn¡¯t aware any of them still existed. No, that doesn¡¯t explain what she said earlier about her age. Rainbow eyes don¡¯t have such an extended lifespan. Could she be-

    ¡°Lakyus, is any of this making sense to you?¡±

    ¡°-No, it''s not. Evileye¡­ are you-¡±

    ¡°A vampire. Yes.¡±

    Lakyus could muster no response, her mind wiped clean by her comrade¡¯s honesty.

    An undead? A Gods forsaken undead? Do I draw my weapon and slay her now?

    ¡°Why would you report that to the Death-Spreading Brigade?¡±

    ¡°So they could intercept you.¡±

    No; even if she is forsaken by the Gods, Rigrit trusted her.

    The mood in the room damped even further at his answer. Confusion gripped the four mortal women present, both over the allegiances of their companion and at the responses of their enthralled prisoner.

    Rigrit trusted her, and that¡¯s all I need as assurance. Her vampirism has not stopped her from being a close ally. She¡¯s taken to our jobs as hard as any of us. Her magics have saved my companions and I¡¯s lives on many occasions. She¡¯s dedicated and practical, certainly the same caliber of adventurer as the rest of us. Ah, this is something we¡¯ll need to hide from the guild. There¡¯s no way they would let her into their midst if they knew as she was.

    Lakyus looked around and watched the faces of Tia, Tina, and Gagaran closely. They were coming to the same conclusion she did, their faces regaining the lost confidence that had ebbed away over the course of this interrogation. Lakyus felt her strength begin to wax. Gagaran finally found words to address what had happened.

    ¡°Shorty, have you been holding out on us this entire time?¡±

    ¡°...I was unsure how you all would take it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it was Rigrit who put you on this team.¡±

    ¡°I know, but still-¡±

    ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t often get along with us, you and I especially. We¡¯re all very loud people, and you¡¯re, uh¡­ ¡®subdued¡¯. But like, you kill the bastards we get hired to kill with the same amount of dedication the rest of us do. Hell, you probably do it better than us sometimes; and honestly, that¡¯s all I care about.¡±

    ¡°I agree.¡±

    ¡°Same.¡±

    Well said, still I ought to say something.

    ¡°Gagaran speaks for all of us. You needn¡¯t prove yourself any further. We trust you Evileye, you¡¯re part of this team.¡±

    ¡°...I use this as an outlet for my thirst.¡±

    That¡¯s not entirely surprising. I always wondered why you snuck off on missions.

    ¡°Hey, look. I prefer you feeding on those Eight Fingers bastards than just the people of the Kingdom.¡±

    Evileye evaluated them with a cold expression. Her face did not show any clear emotions, but her eyes gained a twinkle that was not there previously.

    She¡¯s probably not capable of feeling anything more to us. Still, hopefully she at least trusts us.

    ¡°Gagaran, Tina, Tia, Lakyus; thank you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course shorty. Now, ¡®all things well to be¡¯, we should probably figure out why the fuck this skulk knows about us and the princess.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    Evileye pivoted back to the man, his one open eye still without any light within it.

    ¡°Upon interception, what would the Death-Spreading Brigade do?¡±

    ¡°Fight you.¡±

    ¡°Do they have any who could match us in combat?

    ¡°Brain Unglaus.¡±

    Gagaran chuckled at that response.

    ¡°The Southern Blade Seeker? To think he fell in with mercenaries.¡±

    ¡°Highwaymen no less. Did you ever face him, Gagaran? He fought in the Grand Tournament.¡±

    ¡°Nah Boss. He was in a separate bracket. I would have faced him in the final match, but Gazef knocked me out before then.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a good thing too; you would have made a horrible Warrior-Captain.¡±

    ¡°Oy! I resent that.¡±

    Gagaran stared off wistfully for a moment, before turning back to Lakyus.

    ¡°In truth, if he has retained even part of his skill from that day, he¡¯d be formidable. I don¡¯t want to stand against that ¡®Flash¡¯ strike of his, much less so if he¡¯s improved it.¡±

    ¡°I agree. I¡¯m unsure how I would block it myself. Still, it doesn''t add up.¡±

    ¡°Fiendish Leader is right. They can¡¯t have thought to end us with such a force. Even if they count Unglaus among their number, each of us could at least hold him off.¡±

    ¡°I concur. Does Eight Fingers leadership think that the Death-Spreading Brigade could defeat us?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    What? Why engage us at all then?

    ¡°Then what is their purpose in assaulting us?¡±

    ¡°To delay you from reaching the city of Re-Estize.¡±

    ¡°Why would you need to delay us?¡±

    ¡°To prevent you from attempting to stop the assassinations of Gazef Stronoff and King Ramposa the Third.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (13)

    Zanac brought his glass to his lips and pulled in a swill. It did not burn, but filled his mouth with flavor.

    This is the stuff¡­ the stuff that Hayler brought¡­ Gods this is nice. Has a scant-body, even by the standards of a Rye; but the flavor! Ah. I¡¯ll need to pester him for the specifics of this. No, did he make this himself? Doubly so then.

    Zanac was sloshed, as was most everyone. The proceedings of the day had been so exhausting that all those involved that the evening had turned into a near unbound release of stress. The banquet - which had ended three hours previous - had burdened the stomachs of most, and many of those present found solace in alcohol. This consumption had turned corpulent, and the consequences of rampant drinking were evident in most of the upper areas of Valencia. Zanac was in one of the more open lounges, a number of couches filled with nobles too wise to try and stand. swept his gaze around, evaluating the kegborne carnage.

    This is unpleasant. That¡¯s Hayler there, passed out¡­ by his own hand! How, how¡­ funny. Davadet¡­ Secrin in his own vomit too. How embarrassing for him. At least I can hold my liquor. Hm. I¡¯m in the mind¡­ in the mind for some more of that beef pie.

    Zanac stood, and although wobbling, quickly found sure footing. He resolved himself to make it to the banquet hall. This was no more than a hundred steps distant, which for Zanac in that moment was a journey of significant monument. Out of any member of the Ryle¡¯s, Zanac possessed the strongest resistance to alcohol. Although by no means a lush, this was a point of pride to him. This was bolstered all-the-further when he found his half-sister nearly passed out on a nearby couch, an attendant Climb looking slightly out of place in the revelry surrounding him.

    Oh my darling monster, you too? At least you¡¯re a quiet drunk. Don¡¯t think I could stand to hear your voice right now. You have your¡­ dog in shining armor¡­ to stand guard over you, at least. Hopefully he¡¯ll drag you out of here before you¡­ embarrass yourself.

    Zanac focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and quickly gained his rhythm. He made it the first fifteen steps, leaving the lounge and entering into one of the corridors that surrounded it. He caught a puff of smoke from someone¡¯s pipe and noticed an odd tang.

    That¡¯s not tobacco, is that¡­ Black Dust? Stupid bastard, that stuff will¡­ rot your mind. Who- who is that?

    He found himself unable to summon the mental attention to identify the man, who himself was lost deep in the mindless drift of a Laira-high. His clothing was embroidered and fine, enough so that Zanac chose to ignore him. A reprimand would be ill-timed, particularly against someone who dressed themselves in such wealthy garb, and he had none of the sobriety necessary to deliver one. He continued walking. He made it another twenty steps before encountering his next obstacle, his brother.

    ¡°Zanac¡­ Are you drunk?.¡±

    ¡°Alcohol? I would¡­ never.¡±

    ¡°I see it can¡¯t separate you from your tongue.¡±

    ¡°Come now, why are you giving me such trouble? This is the first major crisis of the year! And six months early too¡­ er, three? Shouldn¡¯t that be cause for celebration?¡±

    Barbro clicked his tongue and narrowed his eyes.

    Wait¡­ he¡¯s sober. Why is he sober?

    Some inner part of his consciousness began to stir, struggling to rise from the haze. His mind was weighed down, but still began to churn.

    Why would he¡­ He never refuses to drink. Something is wrong.

    ¡°Barbro¡­ brother-dearest¡­ why? What¡¯s the cause for your¡­ for your-¡±

    ¡°Come. I want to speak in private.¡±

    ¡°I was going to get some more of that pie.¡±

    Zanac gestured down the corridor limply, in the direction of the banquet hall. Barbro was getting increasingly agitated, and responded with more force than previously.

    ¡°You can have some after! Come, and drink this.¡±

    Barbro grabbed Zanac, practically dragging him down a side-hall. Barbro shoved a vial in Zanac¡¯s hand, he looked at it quizzically.

    An alcohol antidote. He wants me clear headed too.

    Zanac was beginning to become very concerned. A cold sweat broke on him. His brother¡¯s actions made little sense to him. Such antidotes were expensive, and even with consideration of their regal allowances, could not be bought with abandon. His mind spun further, alit with a growing sense of unease.

    Barbro does not just want me clear headed, he needs me so, or at least thinks as such.

    Zanac popped the cork and hastily downed the vial, the overwhelmingly earthy taste driving him to consume it as soon as possible. He braced himself, struggling to prevent himself from vomiting. The sensation of a crash-ascension from an intoxicated state was deeply unpleasant, headaches followed by sudden nausea. Barbro and Zanac turned a corner, and quickly entered through a nearby door. This was Barbro¡¯s sitting room, a richly furnished space that Zanac was unfamiliar with.

    Fuck my head hurts. That¡¯s my brother¡¯s adjutant there. Tellior, no, Teloran. Shit, all the warmth from earlier is gone. There goes this night.

    Zanac sighed, disappointed that he had been robbed of his drunkenness. He broke from the hold of his brother, and took a seat in tandem with Barbro.

    ¡°Barbro, what¡¯s the point of this?¡±

    ¡°I have something to ask you about.¡±

    That¡¯s it? I was expecting more. Wait, no, is he dancing around something? He¡¯s fidgeting. That¡¯s a tad disquieting.

    ¡°Ask me about what?¡±

    ¡°Zanac, what will the Kingdom look like after our father finally passes.¡±

    What? Where is the immediacy in such a question?

    ¡°I don¡¯t see the relevance in such a question.¡±

    ¡°Just answer it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What will the Kingdom look like-¡±

    ¡°I have neither time nor patience to be party to your anxieties about your soon to be practice of kingscraft. If you are so concerned about this matter, we can discuss this tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Zanac for the love of the Gods, please answer.¡±

    ¡®Please¡¯?

    Zanac sat stock straight. He lowered his voice from his previous annoyance into a far lower tone, quieting himself and doing his best to keep an unwavering timbre.

    ¡°When our father slips into the ground, I think you would be foolish if you expect to avoid turmoil. The political situation would fall apart rapidly. You would keep Urovana on your side, and I think¡­¡±

    Ah how do I say this gently? You¡¯d be a puppet without any chance of breaking Boullope¡¯s grasp.

    ¡°... you could pull supporters across faction lines. I think you could get the backing of Marquis Boullope with relative ease. Lytton is a different story, as is Blumrush, and Pespea for that matter. Raeven is a wildcard, depending on how willing he is to deepen hostilities with the Empire. Still, there are so many uncertainties. The biggest threat to you would be foriegn, not domestic. Baharuth has surely already noticed your closeness with the border domains, and when my father ceeds the throne they¡¯ll use it as an opportunity to launch a war. They¡¯ll probably do so in force, to capitalize on the instability.¡±

    ¡°A war¡­ Yes, I suppose I expected that. I wonder what time of year.¡±

    Why does he care about that? I thought that was an accepted reality. It¡¯s not as if any are happening soon. I get the feeling this crisis will break at the knees before any true conflict occurs.

    ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t mind pestering me further, I choose to take my leave. I bid you-¡±

    ¡°Stay.¡±

    Oh for the love of the Gods!

    ¡°Brother for fucks sake!¡±

    ¡°Stay! We are not done speaking yet.¡±

    Brother you are a vexing man. I cannot believe your flow of decisions tonight - completely incomprehensible.

    ¡°Yes we are! Thanks to that concoction of yours I have a vile headache; worse, I have no drunkenness for which to bear the stupidity of my peers with! This conversation is over!¡±

    ¡°I needed you sober and-¡±

    ¡°What could you possibly need that required me to be lucid? Why did you find cause to rip me away from a night of merry making?!¡±

    I¡¯m leaving. Your instability is unbearable.

    Zanac made to stand, rising slower than intended. He was denied the use of his left hand in this task, feeling the need to massage his skull in some futile effort to release his pain.

    ¡°Are you seriously going to will me to say it?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Brother I don¡¯t know-¡±

    ¡°Tonight will be violent.¡±

    Zanac froze. He rose no further, peering into his brother¡¯s eyes. Barbro¡¯s anxieties, so confusing a few seconds ago, suddenly clicked into place in his mind.

    Gods above, what did you do?

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°In a few minutes, a runner will arrive. He will inform the gate guard that-¡±

    ¡°No, wait fuck! Stop! Fuck, stop! Don¡¯t continue; don¡¯t say another fucking word!¡±

    Zanac could not stand to hear anymore of what his brother had to say. Panic gripped him. His heart was pounding in his ears, his entire body being forced to and fro by the force of its throbs. He gulped in air, doing his best to stay upright. His mind shot forth at rapid speed, stumbling over itself as he realized the implications of what his brother had spoken of.

    Fuck! If he tells me any more I¡¯ll be party to conspiracy. Why is he so willing to divulge any of this?! Why- why tell me?

    Out of any member of the Ryle¡¯s, Zanac possessed the strongest sense of morality. He was by no means a faithful man, but he had certain principles he refused to sacrifice, or at least liked to think himself unwilling to abandon. Loyalty to king. Loyalty to country. Loyalty to blood. Up until this moment, they had never been tested so completely.

    ¡°Barbro, what- what have you done?¡±

    ¡°You just cut me off in the middle-¡±

    It was fucking rhetorical! My question was- Fuck this is agony!

    ¡°Whatever you¡¯ve done, I want no part in.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t even-¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is you are clearly a collaborator in; a co-conspirator.¡±

    ¡°Oh for the love of the Gods brother why-¡±

    ¡°¡®For the love of the Gods?!¡¯ Brother- Barbro. How dare you invoke the name of the divine in anger here? Are you not insinuating, no, revealing a horrid secret?!¡±

    ¡°We both know this Kingdom would be better off without him staying crowned. He¡¯s overstayed himself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking of treason! Of murder! Of our father!¡±

    ¡°Of a father who has done-¡±

    ¡°Close your mouth! I will hear no more of this!¡±

    ¡°I wanted you on my fucking side Zanac!¡±

    ¡°Your side against what?¡±

    Barbro opened his mouth to shout back a response, and closed it. His face slipped between several separate emotions, each time him seeming ready to finally deliver his anger at his brother¡¯s insolence. In time, it became clear to Zanac that words would not come. He finished standing, giving his sibling a look absent of any brotherhood.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°You do this - whatever it is - you will not be able to step it back.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that? Besides, it¡¯s already done. The time simply needs to come.¡±

    You speak of the material fact of the thing, but I speak of you. A threshold you can¡¯t return from.

    ¡°I cannot- I do not know how to speak this to you and have you understand.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t. Zanac, I¡¯ve always been fond of you. I have always appreciated your wit, even when aimed at me. I wanted you to be part of this, to be by my side. You deserve that, a place in the next rule. I still want to give you that, even if you see fit to reject it. I say this now, heed my words. You¡¯re a wiser man than I, but double in your naivety. This needs to be done. If you will not stand alongside me, do not stand against me. There will be no place for those who fought against me. You think this is a selfish act. That is not true. Baharuth knocks on our borders and yet we do nothing to stop them. This is selfless, this is for the Kingdom.¡±

    Zanac shuddered. He found the content of his brother¡¯s words so hollow, so offensive as to destroy any trace of decency left to his name. Zanac offered no response to his brother''s words, simply turning in place and exiting the room. To his surprise, Teloran made no move to stop this, Barbro watching him leave silently.

    For yourself. You don¡¯t give a shit about the Kingdom besides stoking your pride. How could you do this? To threaten to have me killed if I speak against you? Gods. I- if I warn my father and his plot falls apart, Barbro will likely die, as well he should. But if it doesn¡¯t, father dies, as do I. No, Barbro may avoid death even if I do warn father, for who would think the Crown Prince would do something like this; my end would be certain. I do not understand what I must do.

    Zanac entered the hall outside his brother¡¯s quarters, opening and shutting the door without looking back. He didn¡¯t have the stomach to face Barbro, his body sapped of all bravery and valor. He felt as empty as he found his brother¡¯s words.

    I¡¯m succumbing to cowardice. How- how could I not tell my father? Shout it in the palace hall. Summon the royal guard and have Barbro set and seized upon. Why am I not doing that? I- I don¡¯t want to die. I don¡¯t want to die. Gods, I¡¯m such a fool.

    ¡ª

    She¡¯s really out, isn¡¯t she?

    Climb smiled slightly, finding it painful to do so. Renner was drunk, more so than he had ever seen her.

    She had a lot tonight. I wonder why? Maybe the stress of this crisis is getting to her, or the stuff with Eight Fingers. This whole day has been consumptive of her time; no, her being in general. She accidentally giving herself ¡°vitalia-hyperphlosemia¡± - that¡¯s what Pharmaturge Jund called it anyway. Having to stay for the war councils; and reception of Evileye¡¯s message too, now that I think about it.

    Renner slipped slightly in her seat, her lean onto the armrest increasing a little more. She had been creeping unintentionally from the stock straight position she had meant to keep for the last half hour. Losing ground twip by twip as her eyes drooped lower and she found her voice less and less.

    I believed her when she said that she forgot to get Vena a gift. Strange to say she lied to me. No, I can¡¯t think of it like that. As soon as she had me alone, she apologized and told me in detail what happened. I know she couldn¡¯t have told me with the maid in the room.

    He pulled one of the corners of his mouth, watching a lock of her hair fall from her shoulder as she fell deeper to her side. She had managed to keep her glass upright so far, hands clasped around its stem, but now that too started to shift in her slackening grasp. Climb gently reached around, grabbing its mouth and lightly pulling it away. She gave no resistance, the breach over her eyes having sealed a few seconds prior. With it in hand, free and clear of hers, Climb took two steps back and gestured to a maid who was herself resting against a wall. She saw, but did not move, her eyes coldly evaluating Climb. She had been collecting glasses all evening from those upper-crusted who had lost their senses to drink, making her refusal to do the same for him all the more pointed. It was a blunt powerplay, clearly born from some dislike of Climb by the sin of his nameless blood, but he had no way nor will to fight it. He assented, walking over to hand it to her. She took it without comment.

    I hate that she has to concern herself with that. That she has to hide herself around maids. The fact that they would spread something like that. That her highness could- could fight for the Kingdom so valiantly and yet need to keep it secret. When she explained that she was reading these books so she was not wrong-footed by magical matters. That she would know what she heard of people like Paradyne or Evileye or Agnamen or Gown or Osander or Ulsen or the Ba-folk Gazers or Zurrenorn or any of those arcanists. Why does she need to know that? So she can fight Eight Fingers more effectively? So she can lead a war against their crimes? She has done more in the last month to fight Eight Fingers than- than anyone else in the last year. Done more for the Kingdom. She¡¯s exceptional.

    Climb looked back to his mistress, and then up, scanning the room. There was a game of cards on, a few nobles Climb could not place playing in some format he could not recognize; the latter because he did not gamble. This was not out of pride, or from some sense of justice at being the Princess¡¯s servant (for Renner would certainly permit it), but simple fear of the thing. Watching his friends lose their wages at guardhouse tables was disheartening, and turned him off from the pursuit entirely. The glint of the coins in his memories were a pale white, but he spied now the color of gold rolled back and forth between lords. He turned his gaze away, feeling discomfort at its presence in this room.

    ¡°Ahah! A full pyramid! I told you Heyal, I have the blessing of the Greed Kings tonight.¡±

    ¡°Curse this Gods forsaken game!¡±

    Clamor broke out at the cards table, half the men there laughing, the other half sulking. Coins were shuffled back in forth, a pile on the table far larger than Climb had expected

    I guess someone won. Still, where is the substance in it? Can¡¯t you just lose it all again? I- I don¡¯t understand it.

    Climb walked back to Renner¡¯s side, watching her twitch slightly at every perturbation and noise made by the table of gamesmiths.

    I need to get you to bed.

    Climb took a few steps, circling around to the front of the lounge that Renner was laying in, now taking both seats by virtue of her horizontal inclination. He knelt, folding his hands into hers with care. He spoke quietly.

    ¡°Your Highness¡­¡±

    Her eyes opened slowly, she looking blearily into his. A smile crept onto her face weakly, albeit wider than her typical visage.

    She¡¯s really drunk, isn''t she?

    ¡°I think you should retire for the evening. Come.¡±

    She nodded, yet made no other movement.

    She can¡¯t right under her own strength, not like this. I¡¯m going to help her, meaning that¡­

    He swallowed, realizing he would need to lift her up himself. To avoid hurting her, this would mean pulling her close into him, lifting her. As if this was not enough, the room was filled with people.

    At least they¡¯re drunk. I hope they don¡¯t notice.

    He closed his eyes, steeling himself. He tightened his grip on her hands, repositioning her arms before wedging his left under her. Hooking it around her back, he nestled her abdomen in his elbow, gripping the other side of her chest as he did so. Straightening his legs, he brought her and himself up, doing so in long enough time for her to get her legs under her. Renner struggled to do this, her heels having been perfectly usable to her earlier in the evening, but now requiring a dexterity beyond her to in any way stand in, walking a task even further agap from her ability.

    If she can¡¯t stand herself up, she probably can¡¯t walk either. Certainly not the distance to her room. I¡¯m sorry Your Highness, this may take a bit.

    Renner weighed no more than fourteen standards, and although conditioned, Climb himself was still young. Combine this with the weight of his armor (another four), and his blade (another half) this meant he was bearing his body weight once over. She was at least taking a little of the load, but he would still need to walk her over two-hundred paces back to her room. Climb started slowly walking, holding her against him using his right arm.

    I¡¯m aflame. She¡¯s- She¡¯s right there. She¡¯s holding me, cleaved to me. Her highness. Princess.

    Climb looked around. Only the maid from before looked at him, no one else giving more than a passing glance. He and Renner made it out of the sitting room, into the halls towards her quarters. Her head slunk against his shoulder, some of her golden strands getting caught betwixt his pauldron and chestpiece, a few of them pulling out with each shared motion. For every small pinch of pain it brought her, Climb suffered ten-fold. He tried his best to brush them away, but a few caught in the joints of his greaves, and as he pulled his hand back, more came with. She twitched slightly at the sudden discomfort.

    ¡°Sorry! Y-Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°...is f-fine¡­¡±

    Her response was slurred and quiet, her having felt no indignation or offense at the act. Climb exploded at himself.

    You idiot. You fool. How could you think to do that? Of- of course her hair would catch in your hands. It''s all mail and plate! Gods I¡¯m dull. Is she just pretending to be fine with it? She would do that. She wouldn¡¯t want to hurt me.

    Climb breathed out carefully, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs as he did. His face flushed with blood, entire body lighting up with turmoil and heat. Everything about this moment was agonizing.

    She¡¯s touching me.

    This realization threw him over the precipice. As a child, she had demanded from her father that Climb would sleep with her. From the ages of four to seven, Climb would let her wrap her arms around him, her grip tight and unwavering. In time, he would hug her back, and they would rest together night after night. It was blissful, and it made it ever more torturous to be prevented from fulfilling that roll when she turned eight. Climb had learned then the worst truth of his life.

    I¡¯ll never be with her. Even if I can hold her in moments like this. Even if she leans into me, depends on me, needs me to keep her upright, it will never be.

    It took a few years for Climb to realize why Ramposa had done what he had. Discovering his body had been a strange process, but the realization of the true meaning of what fit between his legs had brought with it a new anguish. A feeling of heat in a way only natural to describe as natural. His desire to once again sleep in the same bed as his mistress was no longer innocent, but now a more base need. A need he could no longer embrace without guilt; not to sleep alongside her, but to sleep with her. The descriptions of braggart men in the guardhouse had given him a sketch of the mechanics of the thing, him piecing the rest together from crude guesswork and lusts. He tried once to envision himself with the princess, but was consumed with an overwhelming hatred of himself when he brought his mind to envision her bare. Other women had snagged his innards, palace maids and the like, but placing himself with them in his mind never got him far.

    It¡¯s all sick. It¡¯s all wrong. I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t. How could I do something so insane as desire her? She¡¯s the princess! She¡¯s Vaiself. She had blood in her veins. I have none. I would just be some contamination of that. Some mistake. Some problem.

    Anger, embarrassment, shame, lust, and pride ate at him.

    It feels like I¡¯m falling into a river. Caught in the flow, unable to come up to breathe. Lungs filling with water if I try. Pulled and torn in all round all ways. Dragged in only one direction, the one I do not want to go.

    The image was oddly potent in his mind. Climb could swim, Jelka having rotated men out upstream of Re-Estize to swim in the waters of the river that cut through it. Even being one of the few in the Kingdom that could enter a river and not fear a drowning, it contained a depth and force that brewed a sense of powerlessness; a complete insignificance in its face. He remembered the sensation of water swirling around him, of it pushing him along. He recalled the feeling of being in its center, the speed one could build simply by letting it run by you. The feeling of being submerged, the all consuming touch it would give.  Climb felt himself stroking towards the banks, and suddenly saw with his inward-self the mongrel prowling at the water¡¯s edge. It was gaunt, its teeth more needlelike than any dog that would actually exist. It looked at him hungrily, regarding him as no more than food. He could not void its presence in the scene, and so drew himself back to the moment.

    We¡¯re here.

    His imagination had consumed him so deeply that he had forgotten the world around him for a moment, his legs having brought him and his mistress along an automatic route whose bead he would never lose. Climb looked at Renner. She was fine, nothing awry in her besides her stupor. He reached out and opened the door. The room was just as they had left it hours prior when they departed for dinner.

    I suppose all the maidstaff are busy tonight. None on duty.

    Climb walked himself and the princess into the room, dimmer than he had thought it to be. In the rapaciousness of this night, the lighting and replacement of candles in side-quarters had been neglected, and all but a few in Renner¡¯s room had consumed themselves utterly. Climb clicked his tongue, disappointed to see wax slag had dripped onto the floor.

    Her quarters are usually so tidy. They ought to be kept as such. Such a mistake would never happen for his Majesty''s room, or those of the princes. No, this nation has one prince. Barbro doesn¡¯t deserve that title, not for being the traitor he is.

    Anger brewed inside Climb, he doing his best to keep it down. He drew his left hand into a fist, what short nails he had digging into his palm, fitting into well-worn grooves. Renner stirred in his arms, unconsciously nuzzling into his armor. The close presence of his mistress slaked his ire, but triggered worse things for him. Sensations stirred below.

    No, no. I need to stop. I need to get her to bed now.

    Climb hastened his pace, drawing Renner with him. They made it to the entrance to her bedroom. Typically, he would have shirked from entering, but he felt an imperative unlike any before to be hasty in his action. He opened the door without hesitation, practically throwing it ajar. He drew her quickly to her bed, her spilling onto it without any of her normal grace. With that, Climb was able to pull away. He spun round, none of the mental fortitude necessary to look at her. He curled his left fist, intentionally drawing pain from action to try and distract his thoughts. It did not work, and his mind filled with images of her.

    How could I dare think these things? Am I vile? Am I perverse? Why am I so willful? So willing to¡­ to¡­ see her.

    Self hatred consumed him. Climb could find no justification for his desire. Nothing to assuage his guilt. A pit opened inside of him, his chest hollowing out. He felt ground down to the bone. Shuffling of covers came from behind him, his mistress letting a few whispers escape herself. A clack, and then a second as her shoes fell to the floor. For the second time this night, he pulled in a breath as preparation, and turned around slowly. She had gotten tangled a comical amount, and struggled limply to draw herself into bed . He resigned himself to his fate, and unlaced what of the sheets he could, repositioning her legs before drawing the comforter over her.

    She¡¯ll need to¡­ doff her dress herself. I can¡¯t do that.

    Climb shifted his gaze, looking at her nightstand, relieved to see no molten wax had spilled. To that end, there was not a candle but an oil lamp. He reached out, turning its wick down low enough to snuff it. He placed his hand over the top, catching the smoke and holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it. The room fell into blackness, the moon near enough its nadir to mean little light cast through the windows. Dark enough that even through the window, he could see stars sparking on the face of the heavens. Satisfied, he made to leave the room, knowing deep in his heart that he had overstayed his welcome. Renner slipped her hand into his, and he stopped.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±

    Looking back to her, he could do much more but see the rough outline of her silhouette against the bed. His words could not resolve into words, smearing into a canvas of sufferings. Images of her at her most effulgent, the crushing weight of the structures above him, the imagined suppleness of her hands through his greaves.

    I won¡¯t Princess.

    He set his right hand on his left forearm, twisting it to disengage his glove. She twitched when the cold metal pulled from her, but quickly regained her composure when the warmth of him touched him yet again. Climb let the weight of his armor draw him down, not letting his hand untwine from hers, sinking down by the side of the bed. He leaned against its frame, resting his head against her mattress.

    ¡°I love you.¡±

    His world broke, swallowing in fear. It took a moment to convince himself that what he heard was really spoken, and another moment to realize what it meant. It was overwhelming, every mental fortress he possessed sundered. Time passed forward relentlessly, and he realized he drew ever farther away from being able to respond. He doubted his senses, doubly his recall, and felt ready to write it all off as delusion.

    She¡¯s drunk. She¡¯s just¡­ she¡­ I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know what she is. Can she really care for me like that? Can she really want me? She¡¯s the Princess. There''s nothing I can offer her, no wealth, no security, no future. I¡¯m just her guard. I can never be anything more, nothing greater. I offer nothing but my life, my death, myself. None of this makes sense.

    Climb could no longer tread the river, his buoyancy leaving him. His head fell under once, and even as he breached the surface, he knew it would fall again. He came up again, but lower, and could not manage to grasp air before the interface swept up his face. He kicked and desperately reached, reverting to whatever swimming skills had been drilled into him. This did nothing, and he sank deeper under the surface of the water, the weight of his armor drawing him further into the depths. He watched the rays of light from the surface fade from bright beams to dim streams, until they could no longer be distinguished from the crushing black that surrounded him. The water was cold, colder than he had ever experienced, his heat leached from him. His body was clammy, his vitality escaping him. Last, violent exertions using every remaining drop of strength he had did not reverse his course, only serving to exhaust him. His lungs screamed, but he no longer could bring himself to care. He released his mouth, letting the river fill his insides. It hurt less than he expected, acceptance of his obliteration bringing a clarity that he had never known before.

    I love you too.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (14)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    ¡°What if we were to field a standing force? I could deploy five thousand.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but for how long?¡±

    ¡°I could afford to for six months, and if we reach into the coffers-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean in wages, I mean the locals. While the presence of your men would bring a sense of safety at first, how long until that turns into a stifling feeling?¡±

    ¡°...A keen point Thenak. I hadn¡¯t considered that.¡±

    Gazef listened to his master¡¯s words, judging them to be correct. Gazef, Ramposa, and Margrave Urovana were the only three in the room; one of the more homely spaces in the maze-like space that defined his master¡¯s quarters. Its construction was made with defense in mind, and although Gazef could not see it, he knew the room was built sturdier and fitter than any other part of the palace.

    It will never not fail to catch me when Urovana gets so casual with Ramposa; after all, he is the King. They go back, but that far? Picturing the two of them in their youth, quite the image.

    ¡°I do not wish to risk an atmosphere of oppression in territory that will fall under attack in six months time.¡±

    ¡°You speak of my forces as occupiers. That is not the case.¡±

    Gazef looked up, looking at the portrait made of Ramposa III upon his ascension to the throne. It was simply a replica, smaller in size than the original make which hung in the largest of the three throne rooms. It was made only of pigment upon canvas stretched between a wooden frame, yet despite that, managed to be a portal directly into the past. Forty years of age stripped away from Ramposa, the youthful countenance of his face vibrant and lively. A cocky smile adorned his face, less of a man¡¯s and more of a boy¡¯s; that of someone appointed too young and too eagerly to the throne. Ramposa still bore a shadow of that smile, but no more than that. A count of wars exceedent of a dozen; routine suppressions of revolts, riots, rapes; and uncounted political crises that had each tested the soundness of the political system had taken much from him. The current turmoil was just another one to throw onto that pile, one that had thoroughly snuffed any flames of glory that could arise from his reign. Gazef could not understand why his master had decided to hang that portrait on his walls.

    ¡°Do they know that?¡±

    ¡°It depends on the populace¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°No. Your men.¡±

    ¡°...Well that¡¯s less a point, more a cut, but I understand your meaning.¡±

    Urovana¡¯s title was not hollow. If the eastern borderlands were named a calloused place, one toughened and steeled through the last decade of conflict, his domain at the very north of the Kingdom would be considered an open wound. The region had been a conquest of Ramposa¡¯s father, the last major adjustment in the distribution of their lands for sixty years. It had drained him completely, dragging him down until the thread of his existence snagged and snapped, almost bringing the same fate upon his son.

    ¡°I do not know how they would fair encamped there for more than a month, much less six.¡±

    ¡°My men could make it, but I suppose you mean nearby farmers.¡±

    Those who called it home - not by the language of the mass Re-Estize, but by their own tongue - found their new lords not as rulers but as invaders. Kinship twisted, their begrudging servitude flaking away little by little by the heat of the hearth, until what remained was white hot. The disliked became the scorned; the scorned became the enemy. Arms were taken up, and within a few weeks of the first deaths, a people¡¯s siege was thrown against Re-Ulovale. It broke, but not before claiming the life of Urovana¡¯s father.

    ¡°Exactly. I do not need to tell you what would occur in a month and a half¡¯s time.¡±

    ¡°The harvest? I suppose so. Again Thenak, I find myself fearing your predictions as near certainties to the day to come.¡±

    The war receded into the countryside, and there it found a longevity fulfilling the deepest nightmares secreted by the nobility, and the brightest dreams of who pined for liberation. Grayguard, so named for the seas of mist blown off from the north sea in which they lurked, found themselves vindicated in their struggle. They took their toll from those around them, some giving willingly to the cause, others less so. Their enemies did in kind, the land curdling. Boys were born, had their fathers spill their vitality onto the ground, age and spill their seed into a woman, and then themselves fall to a vivisection or any other numbers of ends. It did not matter who they fought for, they died all the same. The earth there was more fertile than any other in the Kingdom, blood a nourishing thing even when outside the body, each drop releasing the scent of a fouled petrichor.

    ¡°Besides - and I admit this to be the only important reason - we could not give those men over to anyone but Theiern, and Theiern cannot be allowed to do his work anywhere but that fringe.¡±

    That violence, waning and waxing for much of the runup too and the entirety of Ramposa¡¯s rule finally seemed to mark its peak and slip away in the last several years. This had been the effort of Knight Marshall Theiern. He was nearly completely intractable, almost entirely unconversational, and possessed a terrifying dedication to the cause. Under his command were many experienced knights, not the valorant and heroic warriors of the battlefield like those who counted among the forces of Bolloupe or Raeven, but something closer to their enemy in how they fought.

    ¡°I cede the suggestion completely. What was it that he had said?¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°At the general council, two years prior.¡±

    ¡°Denda, you must forgive me. I do not know when it happened, but I am now an old man.¡±

    No, I think I remember this.

    They fought in ways that no men of the Kingdom had done in living memory. They fought brutally and remorselessly; killed without giving quarry or qualm; razing, lureing, slaying all they marked. A true and utter bitterness gripped them. Maps had proven useless in tracking the conflict, his men moving so swiftly and scorching out so many villages that to remake them was to waste one¡¯s effort. His campaign had all but ended the war, and none of the knowing in the Kingdom could ever see the Drell finding the fury to uprise again. They would not find the fury to raise their heads.

    ¡°Well, whatever his words were, that¡¯s when I knew that war was over.¡±

    ¡°From here, you can almost see the high-water mark.¡± I think I agree with you, Urovana. That was the end.

    ¡°I hope your judgment holds fast. I fear we could not smother a reignition as we did in years prior, not with that boy knocking at our front door.¡±

    ¡°You think we would not win on two fronts?¡±

    ¡°We would stake our flag into the ground and in the same motion keel over. A false victory.¡±

    The ringing of a bell cut through the conversation. Three pings, indicating a person internal to Valencia had some need for the king. Ramposa flicked his hand in the direction of Gazef. He genuflected and made his leave, navigating through the sitting space, a short corridor, broader reception space, and finally exited out into the corridor. He was greeted with Jelka, himself flanked by a man he did not recognize.

    ¡°Warrior-Captain, we have a problem.¡±

    Jelka¡¯s tone was flat, his eyes curling into an unfamiliar grimace. Gazef slunk slightly, realizing that his evening had been snatched from him. His response was equally curt.

    ¡°Do we inform his majesty?¡±

    ¡°I will, but you should depart with Eiger now. Do your best to look calm; we can¡¯t risk adding to an ongoing incident.¡±

    Ongoing incident?

    Gazef clicked his tongue, then gave a quick nod. He turned to Eiger and looked him over.

    Twenties. Bears a shortsword, but no crest or any identifiable mark. He¡¯s professional, not a knight. In leathers too. City Guard, but an officer. If he¡¯s bearing a sword, that means he¡¯s a commissar.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. Explain this to me on the way.¡±

    Eiger set off, Gazef trailing in his wake. His pace was quick, and although Gazef exceeded him physically in every aspect from built to height, the Warrior-Captain still had to put in effort to follow Eigen abreast.

    He¡¯s anxious, even if he¡¯s not showing it on his face.

    ¡°An hour ago, we received reports of a panic somewhere along the thoroughfare in the Foresain district. A street patrol was dispatched to investigate, and when it became clear they were not returning, a unit was dispatched. Of ten men, two came back. The rest had met violent ends.¡±

    ¡°What from?¡±

    Any number of things could have killed a city guard, but eight is not a small count.

    ¡°An explosion, most likely a ¡®Fireball¡¯.¡±

    A caster. Of course it would have to be a caster. He seems to be knowledgeable of magic, more so than most.

    ¡°A rogue Pyromancer?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. It¡¯s the most palatable explanation.¡±

    Odd thing to say, although, he¡¯s probably right. A Fireball like that could have been the effect of an inscription on parchment, but I couldn¡¯t see anyone wasting a spell-scroll for such mindless ends. No, it¡¯s unwise to assume madness on the part of your enemy. What does he mean by that then? That an evoker is a better foe to face than other such weirders? Not true in my experience.

    ¡°Explain that, Commissar Eiger.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re better off facing a human.¡±

    Ah, not untrue. Still, I doubt he would be thinking about that unless something else had cropped up.

    ¡°The report contained more, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°One of the survivors - the worst burned - said he saw not only the explosion that claimed the lot, but that some of them got back up.¡±

    A lich. If his account is true, it¡¯s all but certain. Access to magics that can be freely spent, and powers of reanimation. We¡¯re near the coming of the new moon too, this night darker than most preceding it. An ideal time for a monstrosity like that to make its appearance.

    Gazef understood now why Jelka had wanted to keep this under lips as tightly locked as possible. They passed into a more open space, a normally unused room that was currently filled with two tables of cards. A number of nobles were carousing over the results of a ¡®maids-game¡¯, a sort of wagering-by-proxy where enterprising men would coach and fund a collection of maids who would then themselves gamble. Win or lose, the event usually involved corpulent love of drink, and that table was no exception. The game had completely disintegrated into drunken debauchery. One could never be too cautious, no one could truly be sure who was a lush and who was merely acting as such; neither Gazef nor Eiger made the mistake of continuing their conversation through the room, suspending it until they reached a more secluded space. Passing through to the other side, both men diverged from the path of the main corridor, slipping into a side hall which immediately led to a door. Opening it, they found their egress into a short switchback staircase. Not quite a secret place, but certainly adjacent in its neglect.

    ¡°You need my presence then.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t exactly keep mage-hunters on hand¡­ Apologies, Warrior-Captain; my tongue escapes my grasp tonight.¡±

    ¡°I took no offense.¡±

    He¡¯s younger than he looks. It¡¯s in the way he bears himself; straight and confident. His upright manner benefits him greatly. He¡¯s older in spirit than most. Exactly the sort of man I would hope held that position.

    Within a few seconds, they reached the staircase bottom, exiting into one of the minor foyers. A swift turn to the right and operation of a door brought them onto the palace lawn. The night was cooler than Gazef had anticipated, and he regretted not having the time to swap out gear. Even though the moon was dim, clouds could still be seen dragging upon its face. The sky brimmed with them. Eiger had been equally snagged by the briskness of the air. He found place to make comment on it.

    ¡°Seems the rains have come far too early this year.¡±

    ¡ª

    Between the celebrations, rapacions, and drunken lamentations of the high blooded, the world had strewn headlong into the nocturn without most in Valencia noticing. Teloran was one of the few exceptions. The light in the room was low, but the night was lower still, and he strained his eyes looking into the dark. Glare along the glass from candlelight compounded this task of dredging the lawn of the palace for any sign of departure.

    There, two. Stronoff and his summoner.

    ¡°Spotted. He¡¯s leaving now.¡±

    ¡°Good, it seems we have some luck tonight after-¡±

    He halted. Shit!

    ¡°Wait, he¡¯s stopping.¡±

    Why? He should be making with haste.

    ¡°What? Dammit!¡±

    Barbro hissed through clenched teeth.

    ¡°By the light of the Gods, what is he doing?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡±

    He¡¯s checking at his side. It''s too dim to make out details. His bag maybe?

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean it''s too dark to see. Snuff that candle.¡±

    Barbro twitched at his Adjutant''s failure to use proper address, doubly so that he had given a command. Despite that, if they were not to secure Gazef¡¯s leave, there would be no chance of the night resolving into anything good come morning. A quick push of his lungs and the flame extinguished. Illumination was ripped violently from the space, leaving no light but that of a slivered moon. The smell of candle smoke was no salve at all to the strain both men were ratcheted to.

    ¡°What about now?¡±

    Teloran¡¯s eyes were still reeling, but he felt his master¡¯s impatience intimately. He held up a staying hand, and although the room had slunk into the black, it was still visible in silhouette against the fairer quiet of the umbra. The image began to resolve, but Teloran found no clarity in it. Gazef was almost certainly sifting through his stachle, but Teloran could not guess to what end.

    What could he possibly be looking for?

    The moment stretched and spread both men thin. Their opposed pair had given no clue as to their intent, and the longer things stayed at the parapet of decision, the more agony roiled in their hearts. Sweats broke on both their faces.

    If we don¡¯t get him out of here now, there¡¯s no telling what would happen.

    Barbro rested his forehead on his fist, articulating it again and again. Teloran gave a slow exhale, trying to ease tension. Despite himself, his chest pounded. Two flashes in the dark, cold metal catching the moon.

    ¡°They¡¯ve drawn.¡±

    Teloran and Barbro shot up. Teloran shook slightly, the energy of the moment filling him. His body pulled all stops, blood rushing and finding its way to all parts of him faster and more completely than before. He roiled the ephemeral inside of him, shock-fronts of his aura pulsing and reflecting inside of his skin. Barbro¡¯s sweat turned torrential.

    ¡°Have they turned?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then why?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, we should-¡±

    More flicks of luster scattered among the depths. At first, in the appearance of a ray, but it morphed into stranger shapes. It flowed and shaped itself to the angles of the weapon it fell on. It took Teloran a few seconds to recognize it.

    ¡°They¡¯re silvering their weapons.¡±

    They¡¯re just silvering them¡­

    With that, the fear of the moment did not resolve, but simply vanished. Lathering weapons in alchemical-quicksilvers was standard practice when hunting that which was loosed from its sepulcher. Such a threat would never originate inside Valencia, a danger that could be nothing but foriegn to its walls. Barbro and Teloran were released from their fear, but were not relieved of its mark. The flavor of it lingered, a bitter taste.

    ¡°Blast. Worried so much over nothing.¡±

    I¡¯m such a fool! To think-

    Teloran¡¯s concentration slipped at exactly the wrong moment. He felt his body crash against itself, his energies winding down by torsioning his flesh. Focus and concentration were what allowed a person to so guide these forces, and when that control lost its grip on them - especially in a person like Teloran who could cultivate them so strongly - their inertia took them through the membranes of the body and made havoc in their wake. Blood vessels burst in his palms, his shins, and his pectorals - areas of common concern to a fighter such as he. The feeling was disjointing, and he shivered as sensations of iced warmth and slothed seizes of his muscles raged across his perception. This took a rapid toll on his constitution; standing became an arduous task, and he slipped back into his chair faster than he would have prefered. The impact rattled his jaw; his teeth hurt.

    ¡°You alright?¡±

    ¡°Aura crash.¡±

    Barbro huffed at his servant¡¯s mistake, and after a moment himself withdrew a vial from a drawer to his flank. Its hue was unreadable in the dark, but Teloran could guess at its contents. Barbro made to relight the candle. This was an oddity, normally a task he was foriegn to, and even in the haze of his suffering Teloran found it unusual. When the flame came back into the world, he saw a grin adorning his master¡¯s face, boyish and confident. The luminance caught the crystal, casting a blue shadow on the surface of the low table upon which it sat.

    ¡°If I am to be a generous King, I ought to start now.¡±

    A moment of self reflection for him, but I suppose he¡¯s right. His rule will be coming soon. Tonight, if we can make it happen.

    He reached out and brought it into his hands. A swift motion of his thumb was all that stood between him and its contents, and he downed a sip quickly. This was all he needed, and he felt his body warm as it knit itself back together. He filled his chest with air. His master sat down and looked back towards him.

    ¡°Now go. No time to doddle.¡±

    Teloran stood, his legs growing steadier even in the act. He headed to the door, a few steps was all he needed to feel entirely restored. He did not bother announcing his exit, simply taking it without comment. In the hall now, he strode exactly sixty paces to the right, matching the length of that unit almost exactly. At sixty, he pivoted directly to his left, turning in place without shifting in any direction abreast. He stared in detail at an elegantly engraved panel, a piece of woodwork in the pattern of the flowing leaves of a tree. Sweeping his head back and forth the length of the hallway, looking back to a specific swept leaf on the panel, and then checking the hall one more time for security, he reached forth and pressed it. It gave with little force, and with a quiet click, the whole panel folded inward.

    He entered swiftly, closing the hidden door behind him. The seal was so tight as to completely shield the space from light, and he took careful steps in the dark. He found a ledge with his foot, and began to descend a tightly wound spiral stair. He stepped again and again into the gloom, doing so until he found no change in depth. Walking forward now, he felt the wall with his hands, barely his width across. He felt the latch he was searching for and swung it ajar. The sickly sweet smell of wet grass filled his nostrils. Many men were arrayed in front of the exit to the secret escape, and although dressed in the armors of palace guards, were not men that Teloran recognized. He bid them in.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (15)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    ¡°Sense. Telekinesis.¡±

    Streaks of light illuminated the air, a circle of arcane words burning into it and leaving a swiftly fading afterglow. Evileye felt the sensation of ephemeral limbs flood her mind, forcing a number of psychic flagella from a mote of power she had manifested two stories above her. Within a few seconds, she registered the familiar textures of the drawers she had been looking for. Letting the rest of the tendrils wither and dissolve into the flux, she strengthened the three remaining antennas into arcane tentacles, opening three drawers in tandem. By the crackling qualia of touching mana-charged inscriptions with false coils of the same make, she found the three scrolls she wanted, and began to withdraw them rapidly.

    Going through two sets in the same day is overwhelmingly consumptive, but I have no choice in the matter.

    ¡°Gagaran, Tina, rouse our rides. Tia, the vorpal poisons.¡±

    ¡°I have four vials-¡±

    ¡°Not enough. Move.¡±

    The three she had commanded bolted from the room, Gagaran and Tina through the main entrance, while Tia lept and scaled a wall, vaulting over a balcony to ascend to the second floor. Lakyus¡¯s and Evileye¡¯s motions synced, both scrolls and blades whipping around the bend of the stair swiftly. Evileye did not bother reaching out to them, instead surging the mana she poured into the existence of her appendages, igniting them in magical flame and by the same token consuming the parchments in sequence. It was an uncontrolled cast, rings of magic auto-assembling.

    ¡°Extend Magic - Counter Detect; Extend Magic - False Cover; Extend and Penetrate Magic - Message.¡±

    Here we go. What should I tell her?

    The enthralled words of their prisoner made it clear that there was an imminent danger to the palace. He could not clarify the ¡®when¡¯ or the ¡®how¡¯ of the thing, but the ¡®why¡¯ was clear. Eight Fingers was moving to eliminate both the King and his bodyguard in a linked blow. With forewarning, they hoped to stay the assault until they could arrive the next morning. The space in front of her roiled, arcane symbols morphing and adopting terminal states. They linked, forming the energetic morass necessary to leap the breach between her and the Princess. The system collapsed, hardened light shredding apart and violently dissolving.

    It failed to resolve?! I provided it with the power and range to seek her.

    Evileye loosed a sixth spell on instinct, an unconscious release of a soothic tool she had developed for problems exactly like this. A diagnostic rune glowed iridescently in the air.

    ¡®Ansuz¡¯. It failed due to a lack of target? I provided it with instructions to find and lock to her-

    Lakyus, hastily shuffling through a drawer, looked up and caught the spell dissociating.

    ¡°That fizzled. Evileye, explain.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, The princess is unconscious.¡±

    ¡°What?! Can you wake her up?¡±

    ¡°No, without her being awake there''s nothing I can draw upon to read for her.¡±

    ¡°Shit! Do we have recourse?¡±

    ¡°No. I would need to wake her up and that''s not possible at this distance.¡±

    ¡°Dammit! Contact Stronoff instead. He should still be awake. Drop the anti-divination incantations, we need you strong through this night and it doesn¡¯t matter if we¡¯re caught contacting him.¡±

    Evileye dumped more of her mana into the air, refilling some of the hollowed magical frameworks that remained from her previous cast. The previous failure of her magic to harmonize and execute meant that many arcane structures were still left in place unused, and bolstering those allowed her to rapidly turn around and attempt a second time. Power surged, and the casting was forced apart. Angry red fissures webbed across their efulgent blue forms of the arcane circles, dashing them. A rapid sequence of bangs sundered the space in front of her, seven rapid implosions.

    That was a counterspell! ¡®Lesser Feedback¡¯?!

    ¡°What was that?!¡±

    ¡°I was blocked by an abjurer. Triggered a spell-bomb.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    That backlash. At twelve leagues, that effect would break down. That wasn¡¯t ¡®Lesser Feedback¡¯ cast, that was ¡®Feedback¡¯.

    ¡°Fifth tier caster, at least. They¡¯ll know someone tried to warn him.¡±

    ¡°Then link to Jelka!¡±

    Defensive wards are already going up. There¡¯s no chance of it getting through.

    ¡°¡®False Cover¡¯ only functions if they can¡¯t read my signature, and I just gave it to them.¡±

    Lakyus clicked her tongue and threw her head to her side, grinding her teeth in frustration. The world-thread stretched between Evileye and Gazef was still primed, and she felt the outlying sensors twitch as something surged across it. A bolt of some foul energy passed along it in the few moments before it dissipated. Before she could react, it struck her, yet she did not sense an impact as it collided with her form.

    A second trap? No, that was an active offensive cast. Still, what was it? I didn¡¯t feel anything when it hit me.

    Lakyus paused, nearly freezing her motion, and raised her hand to her head. Evileye found the scene utterly enthralling, unsure of what her boss was doing. She plucked a few hairs from her head, and looked at them. Their stems matched her usual golden-blond, but many of the ends on her right side had turned gray.

    She was caught right at the edge of the effect column. That was ¡®scourge¡¯. What sort of mana would it take - no, it wasn¡¯t from the tier spell. It wouldn¡¯t have had the range. That was something inherent to the caster.

    ¡°The enemy has a lich.¡±

    ¡°Shit! That makes it all but certain Six Arms is on Gazef.¡±

    She¡¯s right. They count one among them.

    Tia flipped back into the room, landing gracefully.

    ¡°What happened? I heard bangs.¡±

    ¡°Counter-spell. Likely the Six Arms lich stalking Gazef Stronoff. This is bad.¡±

    Tia stiffened, not used to Evileye expressing her feelings on the state of a situation. Lakyus recovered from her shock faster than either of the other two women in the room.¡±

    ¡°If we can¡¯t give forewarning, we need to depart now.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t make it.¡±

    It¡¯s too far. Even riding flat out we couldn¡¯t make it more than an hour or two before daybreak.

    ¡°We¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°We have no time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going!¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t reach Valencia. At a pace of-¡±

    ¡°Then what do you propose? Sit here and do nothing while the King and the Warrior-Captain get cut to pieces?!¡±

    Silence hung in the room. Gagaran and Tina slammed the door back open, tracking mud in. They snagged when they noticed Lakyus and Evileye glaring at each other.

    ¡°Boss, the Slepnir are ready.¡±

    We can¡¯t ride there on time, no horse could carry us that distance in such a short time. Even flight couldn''t bridge that gap. Transport would need to be instant.

    Lakyus¡¯s eyes darted away from Evileye for a moment, jumping back and forth from spots on the ground.

    Two points, instantly.

    Evileye¡¯s eyes widened under her mask, a sense of clarity coming to her as a result of her leader¡¯s lack. Her heart gave a single pump, the black bile in her veins flowing losing their stagnancy for half a second.

    ¡°We¡¯ll teleport.¡±

    ¡°What? Shorty, you losing it? Where is this-¡±

    ¡°Gagaran, Tina, the attack is coming tonight. No, it''s already started.¡±

    ¡°But isn¡¯t it too far? It''s over a dozen leagues away. We haven¡¯t done anything more than a-¡±

    ¡°Short jumps, no more than eleven-hundred paces.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that too far-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I haven¡¯t done anything like this before. Twelve leagues distance is near impossible, especially bringing along four people with enchanted weapons. Without an anti-magic shield, the arcane immaterial would shred us. Worse, who knows what sort of abjurant spell walls that lich is putting up on the other side. We would crash against them at this speed. It will require ¡®Extend¡¯, ¡®Bolster¡¯, and ¡®Penetrate¡¯ enhancements. It will be hard.¡±

    So much more than you could know. I¡¯ve already expended much of my reserves in that short engagement, I¡¯ll be pushing myself far past any range I¡¯ve done. Mother, if you ever knew I was going to attempt a Pseudo-Greatening to the seventh tier, you would have never let me within five-hundred paces of a spellbook.

    Gagaran, Tina, and Tia looked at Evileye stunned. Lakyus raised her gaze to stare at her too, but found her words quickly.

    ¡°How hard?¡±

    ¡°This will be the most difficult spell I have ever attempted. Four to seven chance it succeeds, two to seven it fails and backfires, one to seven backfires badly.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by badly?¡±

    Paste our bodies in a thin red line drawn between here and Re-Estize.

    ¡°Would be lethal.¡±

    ¡°What?! Shorty, are you-¡±

    ¡°This is madness, Evil Boss-¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Fiendish Leader, tell her-¡±

    ¡°The three of you shut up. Lakyus, we need to act now.¡±

    Lakyus listened to the protests of her mortal comrades, but her decision took her no more than a second.

    ¡°We¡¯re doing it.¡±

    ¡°What?! Boss!¡±

    ¡°Gagaran, we have no choice. Gazef is being hunted. They couldn¡¯t kill him in E-Rantel, so they¡¯re trying to kill him now. If Gazef is being hunted, that means so is the King. We can¡¯t contact Renner, and they have a spellcaster running interference to prevent us from contacting others. We need to do this and we need to do this now.¡±

    No one dared to raise a protest. Evileye took three measured paces to her flank and dropped to her knees, pulling out a deep red in color stick of chalk and starting to sweep the arc of a circle.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to do it here, not enough space otherwise. You¡¯ll need to get me the materials from upstairs. Can¡¯t waste any mana or time on retrieving it myself¡±

    ¡°What do you need?¡±

    ¡°Mercury. Sulfur. Layline flux. White, red, and blue aspect charged salts. A weirding rod- no, two. The balanced focusing crystals. A helix core, orange aspect. Chronometers, both the counter-chirality aligned and magnified orthogonal matrix-¡±

    ¡°Gagaran, Tia, Tina, just grab everything from upstairs. I¡¯ll draw the supporting circles.¡±

    They don¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about? No, what sort of question is that? Of course they don¡¯t. They wouldn¡¯t have a clue.

    ¡°We need five, two alignment and three bolstering. The patterns are in here. Be careful with the words of power, make sure you replicate the vertical strokes exactly.¡±

    Evileye reached into her robe a second time and threw a spellbook at Lakyus.

    Oh Fleuder, after this, you won¡¯t have anything on me!

    ¡ª

    The room was unnervingly quiet, an oppressive silence hanging on the space. A single candle burned on the table before Barbro, shadows flickering a poor render of his form on the wall behind him. It was a delicate thing, falling off its balance at any breath from him that exceeded his slightest exertions. It was threatened every time he did so, and he needed care for his exhilations lest he trample its luminance like a seedling in spring.

    So much has slipped through my hands tonight. First my brother, a potion for him, then another  due to that idiot¡¯s mistake. It¡¯s not like I couldn¡¯t give it to him, I need him ready and active. This whole thing has me out nine standards to boot. With what I spent on Harlink and Bajan, I¡¯m flat broke after tonight. If it weren''t for the payments passed to me by Eight Fingers, I would need to ask father for that. Things would be truly dire on that of all days.

    He clicked his tongue, finding the foolishness in what he just said palpable.

    No, I wouldn¡¯t need to ask him. I¡¯ll never need to ask him for additional funds ever again. I¡¯ll just have access to the treasury in full soon. All the crown lands, crown powers, crown taxes. I¡¯ll have that by dawn.

    He broke his gaze from the flame and looked wistfully at the ceiling. His mind had always run rampant with images of himself as King. As a boy, he dreamed of the day his father would place the crown on his head, the coronation that would grant him his birthright. As a young child, he thought this meant his twelfth birthday, and learning this wasn¡¯t the case after a gentle scolding from his mother, Queen Nunia, was a cause for tears. Barbro found himself drifting back to that moment, yet could not assemble words in his mind to describe it. He snatched at vague images; the face of his mother, who even in other recollections he struggled to place; the cushness of the bed they sat on while they talked; the entrance of his father. With time, he had learned to remember it as one of the misunderstandings of childhood, a preconception born of nothing that would slip back into nothing.

    No, it''s my brother that should matter the most here. At least I prevented him from turning against me. What a shame. It¡¯s aggravating to think he can¡¯t see that my course is the correct one.

    The memory had almost slipped from him entirely, yet the planning with Bolloupe had brought it back. It filled his thoughts time and time again, with more intensity each time. Now, when he thought back to that moment, it seemed less a harmless thing and more the first in a string of blows. The day of his ascendance seemed as if it would never come, dashing farther afield from him into the future. His father¡¯s age and laxity in siring children had made it seem to the nobility that Barbro would be yet another young ascendant to the throne, continuing the tradition led by his father. This did not come to pass. Sixteen came, and his father was not dead. Eighteen, and still he lived and ruled. Twenty, the unthinkable, and yet still he was still coiled in the realm of the living. Worse, he seemed to have no plans for slipping out of it.

    Any advance I made was brushed off. Any attempt of getting an answer from him was ignored. Why? What could I have done to earn such coldness from him?

    He tried his best to slow his emotions, but this was difficult. He was unaccompanied in his sitting space, no knight or maid by his side. He was left alone to ferment his thoughts; no base way to distract himself, no vice to indulge himself in. He rapped his fingers against his armrest, their steady beat doing little to arrest his thoughts.

    I must stay myself. I am to be King in a few hours. I cannot let myself be vexed by these failures of my father. The days to come will be difficult, I need to focus on that. Bolloupe will have Vellen present evidence that this was the work of the Imperial Embassy. I¡¯ll have Mercat sent to the gallows, same with his staff. If it means triggering a war early, so be it. My fellows have already been preparing in the wake of Gazef¡¯s failed killing.

    The kindle in his breast began to heat, burning hotter as it found a new, more potent fuel to consume. He pulled his hand into a fist, feeling his nails dig into the flesh of his palm.

    Still, to think that I would need to worry about the Empire at all. Father¡¯s complete failure to deal with the Boy-Emperor is the most compelling indictment. Is he so blind with Baharuth? We need to go on the offensive, take up an active campaign and crush their warmaking potential. Route them from the borderlands. One grand encirclement would be all we need to utterly annihilate their army as my great-grandfather did in the west. Their full legions number less than one hundred thousand. Even if they conscripted, they couldn¡¯t match us, and we could exceed him two- no three-fold. Why has my father not done this?! He¡¯s a fool of a king! Drained by years of apathies in the north, he¡¯s completely incapable of decision.

    The fouler side of valor took its toll on Barbro, the fire in him leaping from branch to branch in his soul. He began to clench his hand over and over again, pulsing it out of time with the increasing pace of his heart. Dissonance grew inside of him, breaching his countenance and causing his face to twitch.

    This isn¡¯t to mention his complete failure in controlling the political situation. Letting fools like Raeven run around with no clear allegiance, or any of a number of mistakes from Urovana¡¯s part. That man has been in power for as long as my father and he only recently managed to quell the troubles in his demesne. What fools they are! Blumrush at least meets a mark of quality, but of the rest of the faction? Completely incompetent. Completely insolent! How frustrating. No wonder Bolloupe has managed to build such momentum in national matters.

    Barbro smiled bitterly, the smoke from his chest choking out and clouding his thoughts.

    He sees the true nature of things. Knows that my father¡¯s reign is over-long and desperately needs to be brought to an end. The backing of Lytton and Vellen embodies that. So many minor names and families spy these facts too. That the numbers seem uncountable and endless for those willing to assist me in my assent. Nobles like him at my side will make things swifter and smoother. How clear does it need to be, father?

    The candle flame wavered, light losing its fight to keep its vitality moment after moment. He was breathing too forcefully, threatening to snuff it. He brought his arm up and off the arm, placing his fist against his mouth to protect the yewling consumption.

    I deserve the throne! He¡¯s a fool for not ceding it. A damned fool! Does he wish to rule into the grave? Hmph, well, he¡¯ll have his way. What possible reason could he have for not accepting me as his successor. To keep his crown so flush against him? He¡¯s old! Old enough to no longer be venerable but simply saddening. He has done nothing! In four decades of rule he has done nothing. Simply sat this nation on its territory while it hollowed away on the inside.

    He suddenly hit his chair, breaking the point at which its arm bonded to the backrest. His wrist was sliced open, but he found himself unable to do more than wince at the pain, letting no sound escape his lips. Hot blood flowed from the wound, a strange and unbidden sensation of wetness and heat flowing across his palm, some settling into the grooves dug by his nails. He looked at it for a time, unable to understand the mechanism of its coming. It was gripping, and he found himself unable to break his eyes from the sight.

    Why does he not favor me? Why does it have to be my brother that knows his love? I am his first son. I am to be the head of this family, the next in this bloodline. I am the next Vaiself, not Zanac. He treats me like the least of the Ryle¡¯s. Why? Have I not proven my worth? I have thrown myself into the borderlands time and time again. I claimed the heads of those skulking knights that dashed into the spaces of our people, or- or at least I would have seemed too. I have brought cross faction unity, acquired the respect and loyalty of the Marquis¡¯s who so spurn you. I will be Andrean the IV. I will live to the promise of my name. Our blood has not yet known true defeat, and I will not be the one to bring it. Zanac may be wise, but he is not strong. He cannot lead, only middle and wallow in the palace.

    He swept up the vial Teloran had left unfinished and dabbed its contents on the wound. He set it aside, feeling his skin and veins seal. The escape of his blood slogged and arrested. He tried his best to dismiss the omen.

    The worst of this is my sister. Vena and Lulara know their place, but Renner knows nothing. She¡¯s dull, frighteningly so. Yet my father is obsessed with her. Obsessed beyond all reason. Gods, I should not focus on her. Not now. Tonight is not a time to dawdle on idiots.

    Moisture had built on its brow, finally breaking and dripping onto his face and eyes. He fluttered his eyelids, trying to rid the sweat from his face. This only served to blur his vision further, and he instinctively wiped his face with his hand, realizing too late that he had smeared blood across it. The motion had parted his lips for a moment, and the metallic tinge of his blood coated the inside his mouth and his tongue. The flavor was overwhelming, and it shook him of his thoughts for a few moments.

    Yet, I can¡¯t help it. That smile of hers. That dead-eyed look she gives when I talk. The way she gets confused about the littlest things. She has the faculties of a child. Her asinine suggestions. What possible purpose could paving the roads bring? I don¡¯t understand it. Commoners are not riding in carts. What need for comfort could they have? The fact that anyone would listen to her about slavery? My father made a horrible mistake in letting her parrot that suggestion. That man - ¡°Doll¡± or whatever his name was - would be willing to fund his removal. Did he realize how many enemies he made because of that? How deep the hatred runs against him in the south? And- and father just lets her talk! Lets her spout that- those absurdities of hers. She never gets reprimanded, never gets shamed. Father will at least do that with my brother, but her? She¡¯s a darling to him; to what fucking end?

    She¡¯s a shell of a human being. A wooden puppet. Completely substanceless. Hollow and empty and, and- worthless. A waste of space. She just needs to sit there and look pretty, and she can¡¯t even manage that! She comes across as cute, overly sweet, and nothing else. I don¡¯t even think of her as someone I could talk to. It¡¯s as if she is just a face plastered onto a body with nothing inside it. Her interruption of the council meetings. Why? Simply to invite Gazef to tea?! It¡¯s infuriating. It''s unthinkable! The way she prances about the palace doing nothing in her days. Clipping flowers in the garden. Inviting that feckless bitch of an Aindra to play party to worthless girls-talk. Playing with that toy of hers.

    That¡¯s what that no-blood is right? Some sort of doll. Gods, is that what he is to her? Or is it actual girlish love? Some mix of the two? Or does he have her charmed? It¡¯s impossible to tell. She spends so much time with him. The gossip she speaks about with the maids, speaking about even minor accomplishments of his. She was actually talking with Vena over dinner about his accomplishments at practice jousting! Absolutely inane. He has no name for Gods sake! That¡¯s all he has is ¡°Climb¡±, compared to what, her five? No, she doesn¡¯t deserve five. She doesn¡¯t qualify as royalty in any sense of the word. Chardelon and Chardelon alone is what she deserves if she so decides to use that dog as anything more than that. If she decides to treat herself as his bitch.

    She has no purpose in this life other than to stay fair long enough to get married and she fails. She fails again and again. Had she resisted that offer from Harlink five years ago, that would have been one thing. But at sixteen? Is she insane? How mindless must she be? Just get fucking married! How hard is it to simply assent to it? Had father given her away as he did with Vena and with Lulara, this never would have been a problem. But she had to insist otherwise; had to resist the advances of men, Harlink only being the last in a long chain. Does she know how much she cost me in that moment? No, would she care if she knew?

    Everything about her infuriates me. Why does father give her so much? She has done nothing for him! Nothing for the Vaiself name, for Re-Estize. She has that mockery of a title, Golden Princess, but that¡¯s only for her actions alone. She would dare so leach off of the king and then. An entirely selfish act on her part.

    Why does father love her so much? Why does father care so much for her? She is nothing. She will never be anything. Why does he love her more than I? Why does he look at her and smile, while he looks at me and despair? You think I cannot see it? I know that look in your eyes, that tinge of sadness. You¡¯ll see. When I¡¯m done after tonight, she won¡¯t have anything. I¡¯ll expel her out and that toy of hers. Have her stripped of her status and crown. Perhaps, perhaps even exile from these lands. Complete rejection of her and everything she represents. Who would stop me?

    I hate her.

    The sensation of dry blood tugging at his skin pulled Barbro from his thoughts. He was left in the immediacy of the moment, back in his chair at the palace. His body had never left, and so the aches and stagnancy it developed caused his body to hurt in ways common in such failures to remain in the present. His wrist no longer had any pain besides a dull afterglow of cold heat at the potion, but he still outwardly looked a mess. He could not stop himself from scoffing at his shirt, the white cravat of his shirt stained in vital colors.

    My face probably is bloodied beyond reckoning. Blazes. Where is the nearest wash bowl? I should clean- no, I shouldn¡¯t. Better to leave it on, make it look as if I was wounded in fighting. Tonight requires cunning. If my father - and that hag of a sister - are to be thrown down, I ought to be careful. Considered. Hm, perhaps exile is not enough. She would just be happy at the side of her fake knight. I should take him from her. Brand him one of Mercat¡¯s spies. I-

    The door opened, Teloran returning from his task. He did not see Barbro¡¯s face.

    ¡°The night is set. They¡¯ll work their way to father¡¯s chambers for now.¡±

    ¡°Who was it on guard?¡±

    ¡°Galdra, MacNamera-¡±

    ¡°I understand. Royal Guard.¡±

    ¡°...Yes, your highness.¡±

    Still, the thought of her living somewhere foreign to here. Practicing her dull charms. Speaking her empty-headed thoughts is unbearable. No, exile is not enough.

    Barbro stood, turning himself to face Teloran. The candle flame surged and shuddered, leaping wildly as its existence was threatened by being so enthralled in a torrent of air. Its desperate dancing cast the shadows on his face erratically, the red streaks of his outburst covering his face.

    ¡°Teloran, I have something I need you to do.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (16)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    Gazef rapped his fingers against the haft of his blade. He pumped his flesh in conscious rhythm with his companion, taking steps in stride. They moved with haste and purpose, yet not true urgency. Running would have been foolish, drawing attention when none would be wise. The sight of the Warrior-Captain running with blade in hand would quickly build in the minds who saw it. Words would leap from person to person, details buckling under the weight of an engreatening narrative. The collective minds of the city would shudder, rumors would turn to stories, stories to panic, panic to death - and in the hands of those highbloods wont to sunder their dues from the populace, death to a loss of face and coin. This was an unacceptable outcome, so Gazef and Eiger did not dash, but merely strode.

    ¡°How many men do you have ahead?¡±

    ¡°Four squads, and another two standing back.¡±

    Sixty-count. Should be enough to handle containment of any lesser undead, if there are any.

    ¡°Are we seeking the aid of the guild?¡±

    ¡°To my understanding-¡±

    No, that¡¯s a foolish question. Of course we¡¯re not going too. Jelka wants this kept tight to the chest; his majesty too. That¡¯s why it''s me, and the city guard alone.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t continue. That ask came too quickly from me.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    Gazef peeked toward the sky, the stars running broad and high afield. The moon was a sliver, looking ready to forget itself entirely to the vastness of the breach above. A sharp turn, Eiger led them down an alley. Gazef perked up at this, yet did not make conversation from it.

    Dangerous of him. Is he seeking violence? Brave. No, perhaps I¡¯m being paranoid. Though, it''s not like I¡¯m jumping at shadows. After all, an attempt was made on my life this week.

    Within a moment. They had passed through it, simply cutting their route by bypassing one of the larger bends. This brought them onto a lesser thoroughfare, and they navigated with speed. The farther one got from the wealthy districts of the city, the sparcer the crowds became at night. Light did not come without cost, and even if recent inventions in long-lasting arcane motes could be made thrifty, the odds of places like they went to now receiving it were slim. The depth was consuming.

    ¡°What caliber of fighters are your men?¡±

    ¡°Most are just people who came right off the streets. That is to say, little to none. Some are dedicated, but even if they are, they¡¯re under-equipped and under-trained. We only got a full complement of chest plates last month.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Improving, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°From my understanding, it was the Golden Princess who proposed it.¡±

    She pushed for the guards in the city to have better armor? I don¡¯t remember any talk about that. Normally, gossip about her suggestions would make it to my ears, even from the maids; especially for something like that.

    ¡°Why did you not have plates before?¡±

    No, I¡¯m almost certain she didn¡¯t. It must have been someone else.

    ¡°The core and edges of the city get the funding.¡±

    Rumors may have just given credit to her for it anyway. Fighting for the city guard to have fresh equipment sounds exactly like something she would do. Living in the palace and the way the nobility speaks about her makes me forget how popular she is.

    ¡°Edges, for the wall?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. You didn¡¯t know that? Er, forgive me.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine. No, I didn¡¯t. I am a captain of warriors after all, not guards.¡±

    When no laugh came, Gazef realized his jest failed to impact. He sagged slightly.

    Didn¡¯t mean to insult him. Oh well.

    The darkness was oppressive, and he found it impossible to maintain a clear sightline. He clicked his tongue, disappointed at the unideal conditions for combat with a caster.

    Such nights are perfect for¡­ Ah what was it she said? ¡°Ne''er-do-wells¡±?   No one else of the Ryles speaks like that. Well, Zanac, but only to mock someone. She¡¯s the only one in that clade, though Ramposa does too. It''s strange how much she reminds me of him. I know she is his child, but they¡¯re forty years apart. I suppose both of them are well seen.

    ¡°Warrior-Captain.¡±

    Gazef thought about telling the boy to drop the false-title altogether, but decided it would be foolish.

    For him, that sort of rigidity is the structure he clings to. No point in taking that away from him.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s to be left at King¡¯s side if you aren¡¯t at the palace?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that. That''s a matter of palace defense.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Yes Captain, I apologize for my indiscretion.¡±

    Not like it matters much, but I do need to keep such topics hidden. I doubt you¡¯re the sort of commissar to turn and sell that information to someone else, but vigilance only works if it''s kept in moments like this.

    Eiger again pivoted down an alley. This time they were not alone, some urchin children nesting in a wrecked wooden crate stuffed with whatever soft things they could find. One of the three was awake, a girl of nearly eight or nine, and upon seeing the pair walking down the closed space quickly woke her fellows. They watched nervously as the commissar with captain as escort walked by, the girl holding a small makeshift shiv assembled from something Gazef could not discern in the dark. Their silhouettes were the only true details he would make; gaunt and thin.

    Children standing watch as they sleep. Not a sight I want to see.

    Gazef and Eiger passed them, finding their egress back into a true road. The space did not grow to its full space, the gaps between buildings tightening. The farther from the palace they got, the more the streets wound and twisted in on themselves. The firm challenge of navigating such a maze was made worse by the softness of the roads, no longer stone but mud. Tonight was not a bad day for the soundness of the ground, though nor was it good. Eiger did not break pace, navigating the narrows, and Gazef simply followed his lead.

    I¡¯m never this deep in the space between districts. Never get called to places like this. I suppose it''s not everyday that some mad caster appears in the middle of the warrens.

    ¡°How much further?¡±

    ¡°Minute, my men are just up ahead. Here.¡±

    Eiger gave a gesture towards yet another alley inlet, quickly turning into it. This space was tight, Gazef barely being able to fit abreast. Eiger strode proud and confidently through the dark.

    He has no fear. Good. Men like him let this nation function.

    ¡°Commissar Eiger, you seem like a fine man.¡±

    ¡°Thank you Captain. Indeed, he was.¡±

    ¡®He was?¡¯ Strange thing to say.

    ¡°Was that a slip of the tongue?¡±

    ¡°No, Eiger died two hours ago. I killed and replaced him.¡±

    He heard the faint sound of a weapon being drawn, scraping against its sheath. Gazef reacted suddenly, stopping halfway through his pace and reversing his fingers mid stroke on his haft. Gripping it, he realized the space he was in was too tight to draw his bastard sword. The noise came from his front, yet Eiger seemed to pause, merely looking ahead.

    Shit! ¡®Possibility Sense!¡¯

    He spiked as much of his aura as he could to his head, amplifying his perceptions as much as he could. Danger to his abdomen. He jerked back, but not before a weapon lacerated it. The cut was not deep, but he could see no weapon that made it, only some of his blood seeming to hang in the air.

    An invisible blade?!

    A faint whistling came from behind. Gazef threw him back flat against the wall to his right with explosive force, narrowly avoiding a hail of four curved blades, scimitars, whipping end over end. The shockfront of energy burst his nostrils, and what blood had already fallen from it whipped in the air as he jerked. All four reached Eiger, but rather than pincushioning his form, simply passed through him as if he was not there.

    Illusion spell! That strike had to have come from somewhere.

    Gazef lifted his dexter leg and swiftly kicked to his right. To the eye, he was doing so into the air, but he felt his boot crunch into flesh. A yelp came from his right, and satisfied he had bought at least a moment from his illusory attacker, he whipped his head to the left. Catching the silhouette of a woman framed at the entrance to the alley, he made the swift decision to charge towards her. He burst forward, pumping his legs as quickly as he could, filling them with the returning shockwave of his focus that had reflected from his skull.

    I need to push through.

    Closer now, he could see the woman had superimposed an additional two scimitars before her, yet was not holding them. He realized that they were floating blades, and that the ones that had passed him by were likely on the return. He had no room nor time to draw his own properly, rather jerking the haft of the sword cross to its bonds, breaking the clip that affixed the sheath of his sword. He had scored it just for this purpose, and ripped it away from his body, holding it out like a lance as he charged. Bolting towards the woman, the blades leveled,and Gazef suddenly let his legs give. Dropping into a slide, he caught her left leg with heel, kicking it out from under her as he re-entered into the street he had turned from. He used the spare time to quickly grab and slide off the sheath from his blade. His abdomen screamed, the pain overwhelming. Using the stiff leather of the sheath as a lever arm, he dug it into the ground, allowing him to spin back onto his feet and take stock of his opponents. His opponent did so in tandem. There were four in the street, all armed.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Left to right: that blade dancer, fencer, Lich, and the heavy-armor fighter. The illusionist is still in the alley.

    ¡°I knew this job wasn¡¯t going to be easy.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. I almost had him if Succulent hadn¡¯t blown his performance.¡±

    Lady Aindra mentioned a team like this was in the service of Eight Fingers, Six Arms. Two coordinated attempts on my life in one week. Foul luck.

    The rush of combat stripped all fear from him, and for a moment, he simply found his mortal peril overwhelmingly humorous. Gazef smirked, yet it quickly went stale.

    I need to get back to the palace immediately. There are likely threats against the King.

    A fifth man entered from the alley. He was dressed as Eiger was, but his face was thinner, and he held himself lower. A glint of moonlight streaked across his blade.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even need to perform, it was Zero¡¯s paranoia that had me do that. Tell me Warrior-Captain, you didn¡¯t actually know Eiger, did you?¡±

    A swift and brutal realization hit Gazef.

    Gods, that¡¯s why he took continuous cuts into alleys. To get me to slacken myself at their use. I would have noticed that space was too tight otherwise. Cunning, coordinated. This was planned in advance. Shit! They¡¯re trying to delay me. I should play along, see what I can draw out.

    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Did you buy all that bullshit I said? That act of mine?¡±

    They¡¯re taunting. Just trying to catch me off my guard?

    ¡°Yes, I did.¡±

    The blade dancer chuckled.

    ¡°Ha! So he is as humble-¡±

    Gazef burst forward, swinging his blade. He imbued it with his energy, and its form split sixfold into luminant forms aligned in-step. The blade dancer brought the scimitars before her in a wall of cold metal. He let it release, the ephemeral edges launching forward, striking, and sundering all six. Her face was not discernable in the gloom, but the whites of her eyes doubled in size. The three swordsmen jumped forward, the armor fighter¡¯s blade suddenly springing into a long wire. He cracked it at Gazef, catching his blade, whipping around it and up his arm. A long spiral cut dug into his dexter flesh, the coil¡¯s edge frighteningly sharp.

    I need to keep the initiative.

    Gazef bore the pain, pivoting toward the armor fighter. The line slacked, and in that precious moment he loosed his arm from the bind. More of his flesh sloughed off, but his maneuver had made what was lost just skin, not muscle. He kept charging, thrusting with his sword. It deflected from the plate to the right, his blade being only an iron steel, not a more robust metal. His momentum quickly left the two of them entwined, Gazef shooting a rapid flat palm strike against the armored attacker¡¯s helm.

    That dazed him!

    Gazef was shoulder in shoulder with his enemy, forcing his wounded right arm inward and pushing the man off his balance. This managed to superimpose the man between Gazef and a jab from the fencer just in time, the saber also deflecting from his comrade¡¯s backplate. Gazef shoved the armored man towards his compatriot, him spinning in place just in time to avoid it. Two flashes in the moonlight. He swung his sword, knocking a pair of throwing knives out of the air before they reached him. The man who had disguised himself as Eiger advanced.

    He¡¯s cloaked his blade. The one I see is a false image.

    The illusionist shot a rapid thrust. Gazef made the split-second gamble to dodge into its path, betting that the real blade was not there. When the blade passed into his form without piercing him, he knew he had guessed correctly, sweeping his left arm through the empty air and catching a translucent form. He gripped it, and with a swift grapple throw and kick broke the illusionist''s blade arm at the elbow. An agonized scream confirmed he was down for the time being.

    Four.

    The fencer closed in and jabbed with his saber, catching Gazef¡¯s left abdomen and piercing it. Gazef grunted at the pain, but managed to grab the man¡¯s right shoulder with his left hand. Gazef pulled, pushing the saber deeper inside him and at the same time running his blade through the fencer¡¯s thigh. A swift wrenching action ripped it free completely, severing the flesh of his quadriceps from the bone. A second yell of pain came, and Gazef lept back off the blade, vitality pouring from his fresh wound.

    Three. I¡¯m losing blood quickly. I need to down a healing salve, but reaching for one leaves me vulnerable. That lich still hasn¡¯t loosed any spells. Why?

    The armored man had returned to his feet and whipped his coil in a low arc, Gazef leaping over it. His abdomen burned, and when he touched the ground again, the impact was far rougher than he anticipated. Gazef¡¯s legs gave out from under him without warning. Falling, he realized what was wrong.

    Shit, poison!

    Landing in a three point pattern, he leveraged the ground and spun, dodging a third spasm from the whip. As he pirouetted, he reached into his pocket and gripped a vial. He had no time to drink it, so he simply crushed it in his hands, the glass slicing his hand and introducing the antidote immediately into his bloodstream. Shifting his hand, he grabbed a second vial of medicine, shattering that one too.

    The lich is keeping his mana banked, waiting for me to disengage. I should close the distance now.

    Gazef righted and ran, evading a fourth strike of the whip, cracking against the mud. The lich, its flesh rotted and bone exposed realized it could no longer stand passive. It raised its right arm, flicking a finger at Gazef. A conflagration shot forth, Gazef charging into it with his pauldron. The heat was painful beyond reckoning, the flesh of his right side wilting and crisping in the flame. Healing alchemy still flowed in his blood, his seared and burnt skin quickly being consumed by the wet-pulp of yewling flesh. He rammed the lich full bore, feeling its half-exposed ribcage crack.

    They¡¯re never that tough at close range. Still, a wound like that could mean nothing to an undead.

    Gazef kept charging, sweeping the monster off of its feet. He carried it full speed into the wall of a nearby building, its breast bone giving way completely as its chest shattered. A brackish bile flowed from its body, staining Gazef¡¯s skin wherever it touched. This earned a cry of pain, a far more foul sound of an overdrawn moan.

    Two. Their range is gone. I should break away now.

    Gazef kicked away from the wall, adopting a low stance. Against his better instinct, he let himself hesitate.

    Gods, what of that man¡¯s explanation was true? Obviously this was the lich, but are there undead? I can¡¯t let them avoid the grave if so. Shit! This is to keep me here. Their attempt on my life is expert.

    Gazef raised himself, but before he could fully lengthen, a blow of overwhelming power struck him square in the back. Before he knew it, his feet had left the ground and he was flying through the air. Approaching the ground, he tried to catch himself, but a second strike into his back drove him into the mud.

    Lakyus spoke of a sixth; a monk.

    A stomp came down upon his back, then a second, then more. The strength was raw, each strike pounding him deeper into the ground. They came with such force that Gazef rattled in his armor, struggling to maintain breath support. Gazef tried to twist his head to look at his attacker, but this only provoked a kick to his head.

    This is bad.

    Gazef turned his head again, flowing aura into his jaw. Another kick to it came, Gazef catching the boot in his teeth and biting down tight. He torqued hard, pulling the attacker off his balance. The owner of the boot flailed their foot, managing to wrench away and taking two of Gazef¡¯s teeth with it. This gave Gazef a precious moment, and he threw himself to his side, rolling onto his back. Another kick, but this time he caught it in his hands. He caught clear sight of his opponent.

    A hulk! Orc? No, his features are human. How does one ever build such muscles?

    Gazef reversed the flow of his strength, dragging down on the monk¡¯s foot. He jerked it upward, but this was exactly what Gazef wanted to happen. Gazef released as the man reached the apex of his movement, grabbing the man¡¯s left arm to pull himself up fully. Now standing, Gazef swung his blade, concentrating his energy on its edge. He slashed across the man¡¯s chest, bisecting a tattoo of tauruskin.

    ¡°Your title isn¡¯t hollow, Warrior-Captain.¡±

    His voice was low and firm. Even upright, Gazef could see how towering he was. He quickly swept his gaze, not sure how much time had lost on the ground. The three he had waylaid were still down, the armor fighter, blademaster, and now monk the only ones standing.

    She can¡¯t engage into me, not without her weapons. That makes this two to one. Manageable, except I get the feeling that monk has been holding back. Do I run? No, there''s a chance he runs me down even if I dash flat out. I would compromise my ability to maintain breath support. It''s hard enough pulling in any air as it is; I think I have broken ribs.

    ¡°Way of the Panther!¡±

    ¡°A violet glow enveloped the legs of the monk, the iridian inks of his shamanic tattoos shining light into the night. He exploded forward, using his momentum to throw a punch. Gazef deflected it, his blade resonating from the blow, as if it had been struck against rock. The monk unleashed a flurry of blows, Gazef managing to interpose his sword nine times before he let a fist slip through his defenses. The glow turned crimson, the arms of the monk alit in a deep red.

    ¡°Way of the Rhino!¡±

    A flat palm strike sundered Gazef¡¯s breastplate, splitting it in two and thrusting shards of its ruined form into his chest. Blood came up Gazef¡¯s throat and sputtered out of his mouth. His bladescreen was broken, and a second fist shot through. Gazef flowed the sum of his aura to the air just adjacent to his breast, slowing the monk¡¯s strike in an ephemeral drogue. Gazef kicked back, using everything he could to get the monk out of measure. He tried to step in, but Gazef was faster, using the opportunity to twirl his blade and grab it at its midsection. He broke forward with deadly bearing in a half-swording assault.

    You won¡¯t escape this!

    ¡°Way of the Falcon!¡±

    The monk tried his best to leap back, his body flexing at the use of evasive arts, but Gazef closed the breach anyway. His sword - much of its broad form slickened by the blood of his hand - entered the man at his dexter shoulder and pushed deep inside of him, nearly severing his arm all together. Gazef cleaved the crossguard to the man, and with a quick blow to the pommel, freed his sword. The monk gave a muffled cry, his arm only hanging to his body by what skin of his that had remained unsevered.

    I would try and seize you, but I can¡¯t restrain six, and the threat you pose is too great. I need to return to the side of the King. There¡¯s likely a parallel plot. I can¡¯t let you live.

    Gazef arced his sword low, swirling to reposition it for a second killing blow. To his surprise, slipped from his grip. He could not understand why, feeling that he had just made some mortal mistake. He shot a look to his right arm and was shocked at what he saw. What was left was a slurry of vital coagulants, oily mud, snipped sinew, charred skin, shattered bone, and torn muscle - all the live components of which were in a state of accelerated necrosis. The bile that passed for the lich¡¯s blood had seeped into the cuts made by the whip of the armor fighter, voraciously consuming the tissue inside. The worst of the rot had spread at his elbow, the faint bluish tint of newly exposed bone unmistakable even in the gloom of the umbra. Gazef snatched at the haft of the sword before it clattered to the ground, bringing it level as his right arm fell limp, dripping fatty slush onto the ground.

    I need to sever or scorch that limb immediately. Gods know how long my body can bear necrotic sludge eating at it¡­ I need to heal it now. But I have no salves left... I would need to run.

    The monk tilted, then fell to his knees, then face-first into the quagmire. The armor fighter contorted his whip again, but the attack was unsteady. Gazef caught it with his sword, the wire-blade coiling rapidly around it. It slipped into a groove and snagged there, a chunk of steel that had been sheared off while parrying the assault of the monk. Gazef torqued the haft, snapping the coil at its bond to the enemy¡¯s hilt. Gazef wished desperately to swiftly end the lives of those present, but he was overcome with an inescapable woozieness.

    If I¡­ lose consciousness here¡­ they¡¯ll kill me. Shit.

    He took a step back, then another, building a pace. The blade dancer and armor fighter did not pursue, instead falling into postures of a defensive melee, holding their arms taught and ready for violence. They too looked exhausted. Shouts echoed from the night, and the street they were on was licked in the orange light of flame. City guards were arriving, drawn by the commotion of the melee.

    They can kill the guards¡­ but they must think¡­ overcoming the reinforcements would be¡­ another matter. They fear guildsmen¡­ Who wouldn¡¯t seek a bounty¡­ on the heads of those¡­ who attacked the head warrior?

    The two standing members of Six Arms seemed to make the same calculation, and they both rushed to the side of their comrades, hoisting them fast to their arms. They tugged, the woman handling the illusionist, the armor fighter gripping the monk and the fencer. The lich dragged itself. Gazef tried to reverse course, desperately wanting to pursue, but his balance was threatened when he tried to root his feet to do so. He could barely hold up his sword, his body barely being able to support his consciousness.

    If they knew¡­ how wounded I was¡­ they would finish me off¡­ instead they run¡­ a sick joke.

    He blinked, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to keep them open. When he finally managed to force them open, they had disappeared, the signs of struggle the only indicator of their presence. He turned sluggishly, his hand loosening and letting free his sword. He walked toward the approaching city guard, the task becoming more arduous with each step.

    I wonder if those were Eiger¡¯s men¡­ before he was killed and replaced.

    The last thing he saw before the world slipped entirely to black was the horrified face of a young guardsman. He slipped off his feet and into the mud not in victory or defeat, but simple survival.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (17)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    Shit, what timing do I set this too?

    Evileye quickly shifted to her spellbook, opening it and fanning through its pages. She was on all fours in front of a stout and fiendishly complex device, no larger than one of her handspans, itself at the center of one of the five outlying circles. She overshot the page, her eyes snagging on the chart she was looking for. Flipping back swiftly, she opened it to reveal a large table that had been pasted into the book. It spanned the breadth of two pages, each entry crammed with numbers and arcane symbology. She ran her fingers down one of the columns, searching for the matching output.

    ¡®Two mark one¡¯, ¡®two mark two¡¯, ¡®three mark¡­¡¯ ¡®four mark four¡¯... ah, here. I¡¯ll set the dynamo to ¡®five mark five¡¯. I want higher throughput, but a timing of ¡®five mark six¡¯ just has too great an amount of volatility.

    She looked up, reaching and tensioning a small dial on the machine. She rotated it into place, counting the clicks it made as she did so, then stopped. Suddenly, she torqued it further, far overwinding it.

    No, I can run this supersaturated and maintain a stable output. ¡®Eight mark seven¡¯ would work much better, I¡¯ll do that.

    ¡°Shorty, you ready?¡±

    ¡°Almost.¡±

    With one last click, Evileye was satisfied and shuttered the panel the controls were laid in. She got to her knees, then righted.

    That¡¯s everything. The circles, words, and symbols are drawn. Timers, coordinator, direction finders all in place. The channels are correct, every artifice to the right settings. I can¡¯t believe this is all it takes to breach into the magics of the seventh tier. I¡¯m almost starting to think I could try to perform this non-synthetically, at least on the right day - no, not yet; but if this works? I think I can get there. Yes, this is going to work.

    ¡°Are we ready now?¡±

    ¡°Yes. This isn¡¯t as close to the edge as I thought it would be.¡±

    ¡°Good. I wasn¡¯t looking to shred myself against the manatic expanse.¡±

    ¡°Well said Boss.¡±

    ¡°Alright, everyone get in place.¡±

    At Evileye¡¯s instruction, the other four members of the Blue Roses walked into the circle. Evileye backed away from the chronometer, halting herself once she reached the center of the primary ring.

    What direction does the vault face, east? No, it''s north.

    Evileye turned to her left, facing northward.

    ¡°This direction.¡±

    The others arrayed themselves around Evileye, Lakyus in front, Gagaran behind, Tia and Tina to left and right, all of them turned outward. This formation was one Lakyus had developed in one of her off-days, and had quickly become a standard tactic for their teleport assaults. There were more aggressive postures they could have taken, but those required foreknowledge of the point of attack, and Evileye had no mana to waste on spells of remote viewing. Lakyus unfurled her blades from her back, four of the six sliding faced broadside out in the gaps between her and her comrades, the remaining two sliding into the space above Evileye¡¯s head. Lakyus turned and handed Evileye a single platinum coin, one that had been given to them by Renner as payment less than a month prior, and that had lied in a coffer deep in Valencia until that time. Imbued in it was a sense of its previous location, and when consumed as part of the cast, would give a frighteningly accurate reckoning to the palace''s hold.

    This makes the weirding rods redundant, but I¡¯m not going to part myself of any advantage here. The chance of mishap is too high.

    Lakyus returned to her prior orientation, casting her gaze around at the group. Evileye was gripped with an overwhelming hesitation, her dead heart giving a second beat.

    Am I actually going to try this? Am I insane?

    ¡°Evileye, are you ready?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Tia?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Fiendish Leader.¡±

    ¡°Gagaran?¡±

    ¡°Yes Boss.¡±

    ¡°Tina?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Evil Boss.¡±

    ¡°Evileye, begin.¡±

    I must be mad.

    ¡°Starting the cast, on my mark. Ten.¡±

    Evileye began to pour mana into the circle, her arms tingling as she released power, serving as an overflowing font of magic.

    ¡°Nine.¡±

    The inscriptions on the ground started to bathe the room in false-colors, a sickly cyan shining from the ground in the innermost ring. They served as conduits, feeding energy to each word and rendering them into the material.

    ¡°Eight.¡±

    The median rings began to glow an equal color, their intensity wavering in nauseating fashion. The ebbs and flows increased in frequency until flickering with unbound speed, all motion seemingly happening in stutter step.

    ¡°Seven.¡±

    The outermost portion of the primary circle lit up, its length long enough for Evileye to actually spot the path of arcane shockwaves and feedbacks along its length. Arcanodynamic oscillations began to resonate along its length, the colors kaleidoscope across the ceiling.

    ¡°Six.¡±

    The secondary rings were touched by the iridan luminescence, and the devices that sat in their centers suddenly burst into motion. The space was filled with the sounds of machinery clacking, ticking, and scraping against itself.

    ¡°Five.¡±

    The salts ignited. Angry reds, blues, and yellows painted the shadows of the Blue Roses on the walls surrounding them, forms overlapping and warping in the light of the flame. The rotations of each circle followed in turn, the inequity in brightness suddenly breaking into a clockwise spiral.

    ¡°Four.¡±

    The two weirding rods began to levitate and rotate in place, one snapping in the direction of the capital, the other revving wildly. Its end suddenly shot upward, pointing straight up, spinning so fast as to cause the air to hum.

    ¡°Three.¡±

    The feedbacks along the rings began to intensify, bursts of power shearing against the arcane words, shearing sparks of pure mana into the air. The gaps between the ticking of the chronometers grew closer together, until they synchronized entirely.

    ¡°Two.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s hands were numb, the vibrations of the spell of such a quick pace that her fingers began to blur. The salts heated to frightening temperatures, their incandescence losing color signature and approaching a blinding white.

    ¡°One.¡±

    The inscriptions peeled off the ground, the substances they had been written completely consumed, leaving only pure mana aligned in the shape of their matrices. The sparks became blinding bright, no longer residues torn from the ring but arcane excitations of extreme heat. The humming in the space reached a fever pitch, the sounds of every device melding into a unified morass of enthralling noise.

    ¡°Mark.¡±

    The world tore, the space around them shredding into indistinguishable colors before being wiped away as if they never existed. Opalescent unlight shone through their bodies, flooding their eyes. A roar unlike any had ever heard filled them to the core of their beings. A shell of abjurant magic broke itself from the arcane immaterium, a pulse of red light enveloping them. The painful radiance of the space around them lessened in its intensity, their faces framed by an almost pure vermillion. The space around them suddenly aligned into rigorous geometric patterns, a hard lattice of unknown make extending in all directions. A scraping noise, like the sound of brittle rock being abratted by steel-wool, scuffed the ears of Blue Roses. The matrix shattered, and the Blue Roses crashed back into the material world.

    Shit! Feedback!

    The course of the mana flow through Evileye suddenly reversed, shooting through the long since deceased tissues of her body. The circuits of her body blew, unconsumed energies leaving havoc in their wakes as her insides contorted. Dozens of unspent words of power seared onto the inside walls of her veins, the ichor of her necrotic blood flash-boiling as it quenched them. She was immolated in arcane flame, blue jets shooting through the slits of her mask and the base of her robe. The dead flesh of her hands burnt down to the bone, and then scorched that too. She collapsed, having sustained wounds that would have instantly killed any mortal.

    The travel time did not exceed two seconds, but the Blue Roses had arrived in the capital. They were in a cramped room, one of the vaults in the deepest and most-safeguarded parts of Valencia. A pitch-like bile seeped from Evileye¡¯s body, little mounds of it occasionally forming into humps as magic letters sublimated back into the ?ther, sending scattershot motes of the curdled blood of a cadaver into the air. Lakyus whipped around to look at Evileye, and upon seeing her companion waylaid, shouted in a desperate tone.

    ¡°Evileye!¡±

    She tried to respond, but her vocal cords had incinerated, the inside of her throat a spillway for the release of agitated magic. She could produce no more than a faint whisper. Instead of speaking, she cast a message spell. It burned to do so, bursting more of the few remaining intact membranes of her body, but it was the only way she could think to communicate.

    ¡°Go. My body will heal itself. Save someone for me to feed on.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Everyone, let''s move.¡±

    Her comrades trode carefully around her body, taking care to avoid any of her spilled vitality. Some had flowed into the grooves cut into the stone below by the spell, flowing along channels burnt by the projected shadow of its diad. It was a poor rendering of the rings and words she had inscribed back in the keep, her gaze floating along its length lightly and without any purpose. She was absurdly tired, more so than she had been in over a century.

    I showed that youngster¡­ ¡°Monster of the east,¡± what a joke¡­ Out of any monster in this world, I¡¯m the greatest caster of the age.

    With a sense of satisfaction, Evileye stopped treading the waters of awareness, letting the thread of her consciousness snip.

    ¡ª

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡®Save someone for me to feed on¡¯? We¡¯re taking prisoners regardless. She must need it. Between that, and this teleportation gambit, you¡¯ve shared so much of yourself today. Gods, that was terrifying.

    Tia quickly unsheathed one of her blood-leaching blades, the qualia of the leather wrap providing her a sense of comfort and stability. Lakyus returned the blades to her side, cracking her knuckles as she stepped out of the burnt afterimage of the circle. Gagaran fell in behind, Tia standing flank with her sister and tailing her in turn. The room was stout, coffers and chests filling the space, a comparatively large pile of gold bars stacked in a pyramid shuffled off to one side of the room. The platinum coin had melted and vaporized in the process of the warp, guiding them nearly onto a pile of its kin for which it had resided for months prior.

    The door should be right around this corner.

    They emerged from one of the smaller cell-like rooms of the vault into the main channel of the gaol. Tia spotted the door, crafted from a solid steel nearly a finger length thick.

    Lucky they didn¡¯t line this place with copper, or worse, lead. I don¡¯t know what we would have done.

    With two swift strokes of Kilineiram along opposite diagonals, Lakyus projected a cross of cursed shade and rent the door. Leveling it, she loosed third burst of anathematic power, blowing the wreckage off its hinges and clearing the way entirely. Shouting came from the other side, and the team entered into the space. There was a teller and four guards, watching mouths agape as a set of four fully armed and dour looking women emerged from their vault. The room was lined with scales and transaction benches, a loud rattling as several coins were spilled in shock by one of their operators. Lakyus swiftly distinguished the most senior of the men present, a forty-something man in filigreed full-plate, turning her head to speak to him as she and her companions strode through the foyer to the bank.

    ¡°Raise the alarm, the King-¡±

    A woman¡¯s scream cut Lakyus off, twisting her head to divine its source. Tia burst into the corridor, finding a noblewoman in terror at the sight of two dead palace bondsmen slumped against the opposite wall. Blood seeped from the caps of their plate, the wounds on their neck thin slivers.

    ¡°Two knights.¡±

    ¡°Shit! It¡¯s started.¡±

    Tia sheathed her blade and crouched down to evaluate the bodies. Her eyes poured over the slits that freed them from the world, pressing her fingers lightly into what skin had remained unfouled. She clicked her tongue upon registering the heat of the body.

    Lukewarm. Means this can¡¯t have happened less than five minutes ago. Is everyone here blind? How was that woman the first to scream? This is bad. Thrusts to the neck, thin blades. Would be delicate weapons, but in any case, the cuts are clean. Experienced hands did this. Ah; that fluid there isn¡¯t just blood, poison mixed too. Either overkill, or caution. Smart enough not to be prideful.

    Tia reached behind her and signed with her left hand, rapidly communicating the most important details to her twin.

    ¡®Time.¡¯ ¡®Five.¡¯ ¡®Thin.¡¯ ¡®Poison.¡¯ ¡®Danger.¡¯ ¡®Enemy.¡¯

    Slurring the motion between the first and last two hand signals, she indicated their connection. Her eyes caught on the unusual smoothness of the wound''s edge, passing one final detail to her sister.

    ¡®Enchant.¡¯

    Lakyus turned to the seniormost man present, addressing him without any pretense of title.

    ¡°You! Where is his Majesty and the Warrior-Captain?¡±

    ¡°I-in his quarters I think-¡±

    ¡°Everyone, third floor. Tia and I will take the south stair-¡±

    ¡°But Captain Gazef left just now. There was some sort of disturbance in the city, something about a pyromancer. Our alert level was raised.

    ¡°Do you know where?¡±

    ¡°One of the warren districts, I think it was Lainsbur- No it was Foresain!¡±

    A rogue pyromancer? Is it that Six Arms undead? If so, I imagine Gazef¡¯s already engaged the entire team. Shit, this is getting complicated. We¡¯re down Evileye too.

    ¡°Change of plan. Tia, you go up the south stair alone, circle through the side corridors on the second floor. Gagaran, with me to the third. We¡¯re going after the king directly. Tina, find someone who knows what the fuck is going on with Gazef and see if you can¡¯t find him. If you do, get him back here now.¡±

    Tia had committed the palace floor plan to memory, spending a few hours creating practice sketches of it blindfolded, then contrasting that with actual documents provided to them by Renner. She had already stalked portions of it during Lakyus¡¯s visits, slipping past patrols or finding increasingly contrived hiding spaces; this less out of vigilance, moreso boredom. If no one stood in the way, she could likely find her way to any corner of the palace in total darkness. Satisfied with her investigation, she stood and looked down the hallway to her left flank.

    Based on their facing, their killers likely came from this direction. Had to be multiple, the knights died too close together to be otherwise.

    ¡°Boss, what about the Pri-¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll grab ¡®our Friend in the Tower¡¯ after we save the King. He¡¯ll have ¡®his Knight¡¯ with him.¡±

    Renner had resisted that code name, stating that it was too on-the-nose. The team had reminded her that her mind snagged on patterns no one else would notice, and such divinations by the enemy would be doubly unlikely through the course of an operation, but the Princess has insisted on at least swapping gender. The name for Climb was something Gagaran had come up with, and after much teasing from the warrioress, a blushing Renner relented. Tia had found it cute at the time, the Princess¡¯s clear affection for her guard seeming ever so innocent. The events of tonight soured the memory for her.

    ¡°Move.¡±

    Lakyus and Gagaran turned rightward from the door, Tia and Tina running left in twain. This was only for a short distance, before her sister broke away at a junction and dove out an open window onto the palace lawn. Tia near the edge of the hall, wanting to avoid the loose carpets that ran its length in this part of Valencia. She rounded a corner at speed, nearly colliding with a pair of sharply dressed men, both of which were clearly stumbling, intoxicated.

    Drunkards here?

    She bolted past them in the span of a second, but cast her gaze to look back at them as she ran. They tried to follow her in their vision, but they were overly dazed and insufficiently inclined to do more than halfheartedly attempt to pivot. She was able to catch half of both their faces.

    They aren¡¯t palace regulars I think. At least I don¡¯t remember them if I¡¯ve seen them.

    She turned her head back forward, the disquieting sense of knowledge just out of grasp sitting back of mind. The south stair to the second floor, although smaller than the main staircase, still possessed a grandeur that outshone most others constructed in the age of men. It was in the shape of a T, an intermediate landing at its cross, above which the second floor cut adjacent. Bursting into the large foyer which it was constructed in, Tia found a much larger crowd of people than she would have expected after dark, - over a dozen - all of which were dressed in finery. Her eyes went wide in remembrance.

    A general council was called! Lakyus received that invite a few days ago, a request to make travel arrangements. That¡¯s tonight!? It must be. Shit! That complicates things much more.

    The sight in front of her was stranger still; the lot of them were just as lushed as the men she had just blown past. The space was filled with debaucheries and embarrassments, men completely afield of their senses. Some gambled; some harassed the maids; some were haranguing each other in slurred and disjoint speech. The worst display of lavasiousness was a nobleman half pitched over the banister of the second floor, struggling in a battle to keep his stomach. Tia¡¯s eyelid twitched.

    No one is doing a thing. There was a double murder two halls down! Is this place mad?!

    Moving through the space, Tia attracted a significant amount of attention. Many nobles watched her with detached curiosity, as if she was a performer deep in some act. As she continued to dash through the space, she enthralled more of the crowd. The faces of a smattering of those still possessing of their wisdom began to change in concern. A foul smoke curled up from an older man¡¯s pipe, the inklike tint of the smoke contrasting against the bright gray of his hair, the unmistakable acidic tinge of a richly refined Laira. The sight crushed Tia¡¯s soul.

    We need to win this war, and quickly. I should warn them. ¡®After we rematerialize, avoid panicking any non-combatants. Mention a threat, or death at most, but no talk of an assassination attempt against the King.¡¯

    ¡°Everyone, get to your house guards! There¡¯s been a murder!¡±

    I hope that works, Lakyus.

    Screams and shouts followed, even the most gregarious of the still able-minded being pulled from their dins of alcohol inside their minds. The man slung over the banister lost his fight against his stomach, spilling its contents onto the carpet below. Tia ignored anything said, extending her left arm and catching the lowest banner at pace, using it to rapidly shift her momentum. Using it to push herself up, she released and fully cleared the steps to the first landing, halfway between the first and second stories. Banking counterclockwise with a swift kick off of the railing opposite her, she ascended up the left branch, although at less speed than she would desire. A knight at the second floor landing, in unusually bare full plate for such a night, suddenly drew his blade with a deadly gaze at Tia.

    Assassin. Typical disguise, but having the money to pull that off is a different thing. Armor like that isn¡¯t cheap.

    He rushed to the edge of the second landing, pirouetting his sword into a defensive position. Tia, still flanking the wall, ran up its length and vaulted fully to the height of the second floor. Instead of landing on it, she caught and torqued herself, landing feet down on the railing that framed the balcony. Dashing along its length, she lept again, drawing her knife mid-air. The man slashed at her in a desperate defense, but the engagement had slipped entirely from his favor.

    Correct move against most.

    Tia jinked, twisting her body and avoiding his blade by less than a finger length. She closed the distance completely, plunging her blade through his throat, doing so off center to sever as many veins as possible. Bracing her other hand on his forehead to slow and pivot, she ripped her blade around to the rear of his neck, tearing his flesh to the base of his skull. His body went limp, collapsing in a twisted pile of a man. He did not bleed, Tia¡¯s blade drinking his vitality so swiftly as to drain his body of color before his head hit the floor. She slipped from him, taking the ground gently and negotiating her momentum in a roll. Kicking right, she entered into one of the main corridors of the second floor, itself equally opulent to the first.

    One of¡­ what? We never pulled clear counts from that prisoner. No time for battlefield interrogation either. Dammit.

    The corridor stretched straight for a full forty paces in the direction she ran. Two men at its end jumped in shock as they spotted Tia, one in half plate, the other in full. The fully donned man pulled his sword, the other ripped away a piece of linen at his side to reveal a tri-shot crossbow.

    That makes five of those I¡¯ve seen in syndicate hands. Why do they prefer them?

    Tia broke into a sprint, dodging a bolt sent center mass at full bore, whistling as it did so. The second whizzed past her left ear, though she ran without altering her path, it simply missing her. She lept and burrowed her knife through his eye socket before he could loose the third. Such jumping attacks to the head were routine for her, her preferred method of killing from the front. His companion swung his sword at her desperately, but she avoided its path, it embedding in his already dead comrade. He anguished, his face widening as he realized what happened.

    ¡°Zach!¡±

    Tia killed him all the same, a slash across his neck was all it took to end her third for the night.

    You¡¯re going to cry your friend¡¯s name in distress the same night you commit treachery? How many have you killed to get assigned to a task like this? Fucking hypocrite. To think I used to be like you.

    She rode the man she had killed to the ground, sweeping her eyes around. Aside from a pair of nobles and a maid, there was no one else around. She could distinguish no further opponents.

    I¡¯ve run into three on the floor that doesn¡¯t contain the king''s quarters. This junction has sightlines clear nearly through this wing, stair does too. Why are they guarding this floor, not the third? How many men could they have? Gagaran and Lakyus should have already encountered the men in the north stair. That leaves two other major junctions in this wing¡¯s floor between the entrances to the second and third floor, three small servants staircases, two secret passages down, one that hits all three floors, and a secret bypass. I¡¯ll check each.

    Tia quickly decided upon a circuit, moving to her right. She swiftly built to full speed, but this taxed her. She did not have the endurance necessary to move so freely for so long as the floorplan, so she began to concentrate her aura in her breast, filling her diaphragm with the sum of her power. With this, she was able to take in deeper breaths - and pull more from them - giving herself the vigor necessary to maintain her pace for the length of her run. She reached the first junction, seeing no one of note on the approach. Tearing around the corner, she caught no one but nobility or maids in her vision.

    Clear.

    She kept moving, passing one of the secret entrances to the third floor, the secret bypass, and a servants staircase. The second junction was near the grand staircase on the east side of the palace, and as it came into sight she saw another body, donned in armor. She tried her best to spot details as she alighted and flew over them.

    Marks from a warhammer on the breastplate, Gagaran¡¯s work. If we had a message link, she could have told me. Evileye not running communications is exactly as much of a burden as I expected. Count five on the second floor.

    She touched down, and continued. Her pace remained unbroken. Within twenty seconds she reached her next point of interest.

    Second junction, clear.

    Rounding another corner, she spied a man standing next to the second of three servant stairs, the only person in sight. He was looking in the opposite direction.

    A sixth?

    He pivoted round, his eyes going wide as he drew his blade.

    ¡°Hark! Identify yourself and sheath your weapon immediately.¡±

    Maybe not, an actual guard?

    ¡°Tia of the Blue Rose. I will not sheath. There is a plot against the king. Where is your commander?¡±

    ¡°K-knight Avalon is two doors-¡±

    He responded too quickly for that to have been a lie.

    ¡°Report to him now and-¡±

    The guard suddenly stiffened. He fell, moaning as he did so, a red streak emerging from his back. She caught the fringes of a cloak disappear into the servant staircase, itself behind a doorway. Tailing the murderer, she jumped through the door before he could close it. She sunk her blade into his back as he attempted to descend, a maid a flight down screaming and losing her grip on a tray of dishes. The sound of clattering metal and crashing porcelain echoed throughout the space, Tia riding the man to the bottom as he slid down the steps in a way she found almost comical. Looking upward, she saw that this stair did not breach the third floor.

    They¡¯re guarding entrances and exits, but these exits are from the second to the first, not from the second to the third. If they wanted to prevent Ramposa III from escaping, they should all be on the third floor, not here. It doesn¡¯t make sense. It¡¯s almost as if they were trying to prevent a counter attack, but from who?¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (18)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 16]

    I don¡¯t want to go.

    His arm ached, his static exertion having been held up overlong; the object of holding her hand in his making his arm burn and ripple in the lightning pinpricks of stillness. Her breathing had long slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep, yet Climb could not break himself from her. Little pains had accumulated across his whole body, his senses filled with itches born of the mind, plate pressing into his skin, and the compression of flesh that came with sitting as he did.

    I miss her warmth, the way she held me in her sleep. How does she manage to get her hand so soft? It feels like silk. I hope my hands aren¡¯t too rough. Embarrassing, I¡¯ve let them get calloused. It''s hard to avoid that when training with a sword. I think I forgot this, at least a little bit. The heat, the softness. We had to stop when she was¡­ what, Eight? She¡¯s fifteen- no sixteen, now. Gods, it''s been eight years since then?

    Climb blinked, cocking his head slightly as he tried to swallow that gulf. It was vast, memories of years past seeming both proximal and anything but at the same time. Horribly decayed and yet somehow vivid. It did not figure to him, feeling himself slip unwillingly into a haphazard acceptance of the subjective. Once more in his life, he found a thing without disrespect to the contradiction.

    Eight years. It¡¯s hard to believe it¡¯s been so long. She would grip me so tight. I would always need to turn to my side, the only way I could sleep comfortably. She would pull herself in so close, my neck would always be slick in the morning from her breath. I would always sweat so much, too; I don¡¯t know why it didn¡¯t bother her. Those nights are long gone. What she said earlier, can it be true? Can she really love me?

    He cast his gaze to his left, peering as much as he could at what was beyond her window. The glass stole much of its brilliance, as did Renner¡¯s bedpost and objects on her nightstand silhouetting it, but he spied the starfield beyond. The smattering of light, the pinpricks weaved in patterns unchanging since the dawn of man in this world. He knew what the scriptures said on the celestial; how every star was the labor of the Gods, hints at the great beyonds fated for those of his kin. He had made up for his error the last time he looked up, teaching himself a little of the astrolabe, although he could find no patterns he knew in what slivers he could see through her window. The heavens robbed him of his purpose, always a little of himself leaking into it, and a little of it leaking into him. It was beautiful. He gave a sharp exhale, arresting a chuckle in his throat before it would emerge from his lips.

    Gods above, of course she does! The bed I sleep on, the room it''s in; those were gifts from her. This armor too, one of her requests to the Blue Roses through this campaign she¡¯s conducted, and she still pouts about not being allowed to pay for it. How couldn¡¯t she be in love with me? Of course she does! She fights everyone around me to treat me well. She continually pushed Jelka to let me train alongside his men, to get at least some combat training as her bodyguard, if not proper bladesmanship. She lets me live in the palace as- as a no-blood. She taught me to read, and got Yelta to give me an education. Every meal I¡¯ve eaten for the last ten years has been because of her. She picked me off the streets. I live because of her. Of course that¡¯s love. Am I blind?! How daft am I?

    He smiled, struggling to stave off the bitterness that had consumed him earlier. His eyes were still wet, the remnants of ill-suppressed tears that had come earlier in the depths of his turmoil. He closed his eyes, feeling his eyelids flutter and tense. He fought to move his tongue around in his mouth, it dry and adherent. To his surprise, he succeeded. He felt stupid, but in a way he found no disquiet in.

    The third Princess- no, the Golden Princess! The finest of the Ryles! A-and the fairest too. The same princess who has done so much for the people, who fights repeatedly in the arenas of politics for their welfare. Who defends adventurers and monster hunters to the court. Who coordinates the effort to shatter the criminals of the nation, to destroy the trade of Laira; no, who started that effort in the first place. She who freed the slaves. Her highness is in love with me!

    This time when the laugh came, he could not bay it back, merely negotiating his release down to a chuff. His eyes opened, he suddenly afraid that he had woken her in his disvigilance. Renner did not stir, and he counted himself lucky for it, not wishing to pull her from her sleep. His eyes wet again, tears not of anguish, but of mirth. He put his right palm to his face, his smile growing fuller.

    Princess Renner loves me!

    Moisture streaked across his face, tears breaking free from the nooks of his eyes. He blinked his eyelids to wick them and looked at her hand. Its alabaster stood stark against the pitch of the nocturn. He had seen the sight of it so many times before; so often at the commencement of prostrations, bows, genuflections, he would catch her hand in the downstroke of his motion before his gaze fell entirely to the floor. Now it seemed a sight anew, something he was seeing for the first time. He was struck suddenly with a realization.

    She always keeps her hands clasped whenever I bow. Most of the time, she stays still, though not always. It''s rare, but she¡¯ll twitch slightly. She tries to pull her hands apart, like she wants to reach out to me. Is that what that is? That¡¯s¡­ cute.

    His face twitched slightly, rolling that thought over in his mind. There was something he could not place about it, another thing out of reach. Fragments of thoughts drifted to the forefront but did not resolve. It took him some time to realize it, the concept finally reaching him.

    She can¡¯t let herself reach out to me. She has to maintain her bearing as a princess. She has to keep herself formal, an appearance in the eyes of the court. I suppose she hides parts of this even from Lakyus, or at least tries too. The way she blushes whenever Lakyus mentions me... it feels nice, but she can¡¯t give more than that. She can¡¯t speak to me, give me anything more than a touch in passing.

    He swallowed, this time in actuality. Time seemed to slow, no longer a second experienced for a second passed. His chest welled, and he found it harder to breathe. He steeled himself and slipped his hand away, her grasp offering no resistance, now limp and strengthless in her slumber.

    We can never be together. There¡¯s no chance of it. I guess I¡¯ve known that all my life, but that it hurt her too? We can love at a distance, but that is it. I think I understand why you want me to come with you when you get married, why you wish to keep me by your side. It makes sense to me. So much more makes sense to me now. I¡¯ll be there, I¡¯ll never leave you. I know I¡¯ve promised that before, but this time is different.

    Climb let his left arm fall to his side, the burning in it finally abating as he let it ease. The air was sweet, and he filled his lungs with it. These moments were few for him - only in the depths of his training did he find such similar qualia - but he felt truly happy to be alive. It was tinged by the pain of knowing nothing he could do would ever draw him closer to his mistress, always his most precious wishes remaining out of reach, their realization simply impossible. It was forlorn, but there was joy in it none-the-less. Climb¡¯s emotions took on new colors, ones that he had yet to know.

    I can¡¯t be with you princess, but I can at least be yours.

    He sighed, and stood. Looking back to her, he saw the outline of her body, framed by the twists and turns of the covers. He could not see her face, she having burrowed it in her pillow, and in any case it was to dark. He could see her hair, it splayed haphazardly on the cloth around her. His smile regained a little of its life. He turned and made his way out of her room. Opening her door gently, he entered into the sitting space. A sudden terror gripped him.

    Gods, what if one of the maids sees me?!

    He quickly shot his gaze around the room, scanning it swiftly. No one was there. His heart rate had exploded, and more out of instinct than any danger to his person, he had welled the aura in his body. The release was simply unpleasant, but this was luck. Had he spent a moment longer in his search - a moment longer building such forces in his body - he may have actually hurt himself.

    Yes, I am definitely dull.

    He admonished himself, although this time in a looser way, and closed her bedroom door with as much care to silence as when he had opened it. It sealed, he turned and strode across the room to the exit to the corridor, still moving somewhat softly. He opened the door to the hall, still nervous someone would take notice of him and find him suspicious for being in the princess¡¯s room at night. He turned to the spot just right of the guard, preparing to give an explanation for his presence. To his surprise, there was no one present.

    What? Don¡¯t tell me they forgot to put a knight on station. I know the royal guard is busy, but still, this is something they should have done. A night like this when the palace is filled with visitons  is when defense should be at its strongest.

    Climb clicked his tongue, he fighting his indignation down to an annoyance. The lights had stayed lit, meaning that some candlelighter had already passed through the space and somehow not informed a guard that there was no one present outside of Renner¡¯s room.

    I¡¯m sure there are plenty of men on his highness Zanac¡­ and Barbro. They wouldn¡¯t let those tasks slip, would they? Gods were the Royal Guard getting lushed earlier too? I didn¡¯t see if they were, but it wouldn¡¯t surprise me. Do I go speak with Jelka?

    He felt an odd resolve. Attempting to speak with Jelka was something he ordinarily would have never considered doing. However, now, to not do so felt negligent. He was forced to pause himself before he let his thoughts run any further.

    No. I¡¯ll just handle this myself. If he wasn¡¯t willing to deploy a man to her side, there¡¯s nothing I could do to convince him. I¡¯ll just watch her myself tonight.

    Climb sighed, heavier this time. This was not out of relief, but a more unwelcome resignation. He was tired, but he knew that even if he attempted to go to bed, he wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep unless she wasn¡¯t safeguarded. His mind quickly ran through what he had on him, making sure he was ready for the long night to come.

    Sword, proper one too. Guess the quartermaster wouldn¡¯t dare shaft me tonight. I have a gambler¡¯s dagger, too. Healing salve. I suppose that¡¯s all I really need. Still, I¡¯m too tired. Tried this last month and she got worried sick. Actually, I¡¯m hungry and thirsty too, and I need to pee. I¡¯ll do that, and come back. Surely there has to be something left. Still, it¡¯s late. Is it already after midnight? It might be. If I¡¯m lucky, there should still be some of that bird left, though I doubt it. Ah, do I have any of that gum Retha handed out?

    Climb passed his hand through a thin slit in his armor, digging through his pockets, combing his fingers past lint and the occasional spare hair. He brushed against a lump, pulling it out and removing a few severed threads. It was sticky, and he popped it into his mouth. It was bitter, and worsened the dryness of his mouth, but he powered through it. Within a few seconds of chewing, it warmed and became pliable, he more easily manipulating it with his tongue. His mouth began to buzz, wherever runoff saliva from it ran aliting in a fuzzy sensation; pinpricks not unlike those from his stillness minutes prior. He cracked his neck, something in the alchemy vanquishing his weariness, like fog burned off in sunlight.

    Better, feel awake. It must be phlostiginated or something. Actually, I wonder if it''s made from that stuff she was drinking this morning. Has a kick to it. If it stays like this, I should be able to stay till the day shift. Still should find water though.

    Climb turned to the right and started walking, making his way to one of the side spaces off the great hall, a small ancillary refectory for some of the palace staff not deemed fit to eat in the main expanse. Typically, after banquets like tonight, there would be enough left for the knights to take their fill; even scraps for the guards to pick from. The corridor was silent.

    I suppose all the maids are in the other parts of the palace. I should take in the quiet while I can.

    Climb reached the end of the corridor, turning left around the elbow. The hall he walked down now was forty paces long before it split off at a three way junction, the only two egresses before that being into the former two rooms of Lulara and Vena. Renner¡¯s was the least of these, tucked away at the end of the hook of the hall. Windows spanned the space to his right, running the entire length of the corridor. Climb saw someone on the other end passing through the junction, but the candlelight was dim. He walked, casting his gaze outside.

    It is really dark tonight, I can''t make anything out.

    He tried his best to spy anything in the pitch, but there was no chance of it. The light of the hall dimmed his view of the stars, less than an eighth as brilliant. Climb sagged slightly, but there was nothing to be done about it. The sound of footsteps other than his own drew his eyes forward again. The person, now distinguishable as a male figure, had turned down the same corridor Climb was in.

    Must be trying to shortcut the main thoroughfare. Wonder how busy it still is. There¡¯s a good chance everything is still lively. Get the feeling a few of them will stay up till the daytime. I know nights like this can get rowdy, but this much? I suppose war is coming early this year. They can¡¯t help but be stressed.

    They drew closer, now only thirty paces from each other. The gum had all but dissolved in Climb¡¯s mouth - not stable to begin with - and he started to feel energized. He evaluated the man in front of him. Blond, hair cropped short to the head, taller than Climb, thinly faced. He was in full plate armor, although it was not filigreed. Climb spotted a shortsword. Whoever he was, he was clearly a knight.

    Who is that? He¡¯s a knight, but I don¡¯t recognize him from the nightwatch. Is that¡­ Barbro¡¯s man? Name was¡­ Adjutant Teloran, I think. Odd. I didn¡¯t recognize him.

    They both moved closer, catching each other''s eyes. They both glared at each other; Teloran bearing a harsh countenance, Climb carrying equal scorn in his face.

    How can you support that traitor? Surely you know he¡¯s in league with Eight Fingers; been by his side when he¡¯s received payments. How can you stay loyal to him when he¡¯s not loyal to the kingdom? How could you stand by someone so vile? Her highness loves this country, but him? He has to hold some contempt for his master, how could he not? Maybe it''s just cynicism. Barbro is the crown prince, after all.

    Climb clicked his tongue, doing his best to bay his anger back. He broke his eyes away, looking at the ground. He traced his eyes across the fringe of the carpet, seeing how it overlapped the tile. The hall was four paces wide, the carpet that traveled from end to end covering the center two of which. A few slim and stout tables lined the hall, serving as no more than stands for the occasional trinket or vase.

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    I have a much finer mistress than he has a master. I couldn¡¯t imagine it. Barbro is¡­ is a fucking idiot. How could he think of collaborating with Eight Fingers, much less to kill Gazef?! It''s wrong! It¡¯s absurd! Why is he fated to be king?

    Ire over brimmed in Climb¡¯s soul, and he started to evaluate Teloran closer; not raising to meet his eyes, merely evaluating his armor. Even if not compared to Climb¡¯s, it was dull. It possessed no decoration at all. Even from a distance of now five paces, Climb could tell it was scuffed.

    Did he forget to take care of it? How can you be so lax? Gods, ¡®servant like master,¡¯ no? What sort of laziness has to overcome you? I suppose you¡¯re like him in many ways, just as dull. Just as much of a fool. Agh! I can¡¯t let myself get so worked up. I have to guard her tonight, I don''t want to be stewing in myself hour after hour. It''s simple, I just need to get myself to the hall, quench, sate, and relieve myself. I can do that.

    They both took a step forward, both shifting to their right to avoid each other. Climb caught Teloran¡¯s dexter hand twitch. They passed each other abreast, striding past without incident. Climb broached a realization.

    Wait, I know why I didn¡¯t recognize him. He¡¯s not in what he wore earlier, that¡¯s his practice armor.

    Teloran continued walking. Climb stopped dead. He could feel every beat of his heart, every strap of his armor imprinting into his skin, every cold bite of the air whenever he pulled a breath in. A sense of low dread built in his chest, hollowed, emptied, and tight.

    What is he doing in his practice armor here? The tower is on the opposite side of the palace.

    Climb, face frozen and mouth slightly agape turned around slowly. Teloran¡¯s back came into view, and soon after Climb spied him, the sound of footsteps cut off. Teloran stood still for a moment, before turning around himself. His expression had lost all trace of anger, replaced only by nervousness.

    Why is he here?

    They stood there, staring at each other in complete silence. Awareness of his own body flooded Climb, the feeling of his muscles twitching slightly. Teloran reached his right arm carefully and deliberately across his body. He drew. Climb could not believe the sight. What he was seeing was unimaginable. It took him an instant to realize what had happened, but the decision to respond in kind was made preconsciously. Climb drew too.

    He¡¯s between me and her highness.

    Any suppression of his frustration left him, disbelief ebbing away, consumed by a white-hot rage. They both slipped into forward stances, holding their blades and pointed against each other.

    Gods above he¡¯s between me and her! Think! Fucking think!

    Climb¡¯s body ignited, his energies surging. His manipulation of Ki was raw, vortices of energy welling and bursting in his body. Flesh rippling under his skin, his back nearly spasming. Every single one of his muscles twitched, teeth clattering from the convulsions of his jaw. Teloran made no move, a clear anxiety in his eyes.

    I can¡¯t get around him and stay out of each. I¡¯ll rush him! I¡¯ll rush him the fuck down!

    Climb¡¯s legs exploded, charging forward. He swung a flat swing wildly, Teloran with a desperate parry, forcing him to shift to his right. Climb tried to break around him while he could, but the carpet threatened to slip out from under him. He nearly lost his balance, and before he could regain it, Teloran countered with an upswing, their blades scraping against each other. Climb pulled from reach just in time, but Teloran stepped in, pressing his advantage. They were both deeply inside the measure of their opposites¡¯ broadswords.

    This is bad!

    Teloran slashed from the side, their blades meeting and bouncing off each other, the reverberations of the strike swiftly muffled by the strength of their grips. Climb tensed his legs to leap back, but realized if he tried, the carpet would slip. His movement was badly hindered. Teloran thrusted, but Climb evaded, pivoting his body in time to avoid the tip of the blade. The air thickened, Teloran trying to exploit Climb¡¯s poor position with a strike laced with the ephemeral. He hit at Climb¡¯s flank, arm being too high to bear the blow, but his blade bounced off in a shower of sparks. The mithril had held, reflecting the aura Teloran had poured into the strike back into the air with brilliantly radiating motes of metal. Climb counterswung, but Teloran attempted to jump back. The carpet sheared and gave way, Teloran falling over backwards, his feet sliding into Climb and knocking him off his.

    Idiot!

    Teloran¡¯s eyes went wide, in complete surprise of the ground falling out from under him and his opponent. Teloran hit the ground first, Climb landing on top of him a moment later - a tremendous clamor that rattled them both. Climb had tried to catch himself with his sword, causing it to torque out his hand. They were face to face, the smell of Teloran¡¯s breath causing Climb¡¯s nose to curl. He brought his right knee up swiftly and wrenched a dagger from his greave. He stabbed at Teloran¡¯s face, but Teloran blocked with his left arm and threw Climb off of him. Climb crashed against the tile, catching and dragging his lost blade along, screeching as it rent the floor.

    My blade is under me!

    Teloran pivoted, half leaping at Climb with his knife, Climb swinging his arm in time to catch and deflect the blow, emptying Teloran¡¯s hands. Teloran slipped from his side and fell prone completely, Climb trying to end his life with a downward stab of his knife a second time. Teloran braced himself, right palm flush against the ground, and broke backwards, Climb¡¯s knife snapping as it struck the tile. He swiftly wrent his blade from under him, the pair of them scrambling to their feet, neither wishing to continue such a close engagement. Climb had rushed forward, and as the windows bearing the black of the knight once again filled the right side of his vision, he knew he had successfully interposed himself between the princess and the danger.

    I did it!

    Both back on their feet, they both thrust their blades outward, both remaining outside of the reach of the other¡¯s. Teloran tried to step forward, but his foot nearly snagged on the carpet. He stopped and kicked it to his right, Climb doing so in turn to his left; an odd moment of truce as they vanquished their mutual foe together, it bunching and furling to the side. A bead of moisture rolled down Climb¡¯s forehead, his left eye twitching as it nestled into the texture of his orbital. His body was covered in sweat, his hair slick with exertion. Climb allowed himself a moment of thought.

    Do I scream? Surely I¡¯d draw someone.

    Teloran stepped forward. His height was such that Climb entered the reach of his blade before he could bay teloran with his. Climb was forced back, taking a retreating shuffle. Teloran took a second step, just as small. The tip of his sword was close, and Climb was forced back a second time. Climb¡¯s body still surged with power.

    If I call for help, he¡¯ll tell whoever comes that I drew first. They wouldn¡¯t believe me if I said otherwise! Who would believe a no-blood over a knight?! They¡¯ll side with him!

    Teloran tried a third time, but Climb twitched his blade, knocking Teloran¡¯s off axis. Climb shot forward again, pouring his focus into the edge and loosing a flat leftward strike. He whiffed, the slash catching nothing but air. Teloran attacked, a rapid downstroke of his blade. Climb again parried, deflecting Teloran¡¯s blade and sending it wide. Teloran pushed in, thrusting a desperate riposte. Climb jinked to the side, dodging the tip, and shot a counter-riposte of his own. They were both forced apart again. Jerking back, the wetness on his face broke from his orbital and reached his mouth. Only then did Climb perceive that it was not sweat, but blood.

    But why doesn¡¯t he?! No, that would prevent him from- from harming her highness! He truly intends to- to¡­ agh!

    Climb shook with rage. He had never felt such fury, such indignation in his life. Every tendon in his body strung tight, every strand of flesh twitching. He hated Teloran; a sort of deep, true hatred he had never felt before. He thought what he felt for Barbro before was hatred, but his ire then was a pale shadow of what he felt now, scorched away and forgotten by the blinding heat of his soul. He wanted desperately to charge forward Teloran, to bridge the gap between them and rum him through. It took every fiber of his being to hold him from a blind dash.

    I¡¯m going to protect her. I need to protect her.

    Teloran shuffled to his left, trying to force climb to pivot round to circumvent him. Climb shifted with Teloran, not giving a finger length back. Sweat covered his face, his left shoulder guard smeared with red. He looked nervous, eyes darting round, snagging in the space to Climb¡¯s left. Teloran shifted back to his right, Climb again transposing himself. Looking back at his opponent¡¯s armor, he realized that the foul of the shoulder guard was not Teloran¡¯s blood, but his own.

    I must have split my forehead open on it when we fell. What a fucking fool he is!

    The pain of his wound flooded into him, feeling the cold air sting against what had been exposed below the skin. It was intense, moreso of a wound than any he had sustained in recent memory. Climb¡¯s control of his body faltered, some agitated Ki he had let his grip slip from blowing through the walls of the veins in his nostrils. Two thin streams of vitality streaked from his nose, staining his face further. The metallic taste in his mouth grew stronger, the acrid flavor of iron driving away any other sensation.

    That salve, I¡¯ll- I¡¯ll apply it after!

    Teloran lifted his foot to attempt to shift back to his left. Climb followed, but Teloran suddenly shifted directions and charged forward. His blade was vibrant with outpouring power. Climb dodged right, but did not evade in time. The tip caught his armor at the edge of his left oblique and smote it, a burst of luminescing shrapnel flying in all directions. Shards of mithril embedded in Climb¡¯s left side, the rest scattering and pushing away Teloran¡¯s blade before it could pierce deeper into him. He nearly slipped from his feet, catching himself against the frame of a window with a shout of agony.

    Gods above, it hurts!

    A spout of blood shot from the wound, escaping through the twists of his pulverized left flank. Teloran recovered from his reel, reversing his blade back towards Climb in a slash to that same sunder. Climb couldn¡¯t raise his blade in time, its position too distant, out of instinct raising his left hand to block. Teloran¡¯s sword slipped between the index and ring fingers of his gauntlet and sunk into Climb¡¯s hand, splitting it to near the center of his palm. Climb cried a second time, breaking away from the wall to the center of the hall, nearly keeling over from the raw pain. The wounds fogged his thoughts, but not before he realized an anathema. The windows of the hall were to his left.

    He got around me!

    Teloran leveled his blade to re-engage, standing in a taller stance than any point prior. Climb barely managed to raise his, but he could not hold it still, and he leaned to his left. He tried to brace himself with his wounded hand to his thigh, but the wetness of it caused it to slip. Climb rushed in, slashing desperately. Teloran parried. Climb slashed again. Teloran parried again. Climb tried to render a third, but the swing of his arm drove a jagged piece of shrapnel deeper into him, causing him to nearly fall to his side. Climb hissed a cry between his teeth, in overwhelming suffering.

    I need- I need to get back around him.

    Climb¡¯s blade was low, and Teloran jabbed with his sword, filled with more effervescent ?ther. Climb could not dodge in time, and it landed true at Climb¡¯s right shoulder. It did not pierce, its contact with Climb¡¯s armor producing far more polluted sound than the previous bangs of Teloran¡¯s empowered strikes. Only then did either of them realize that the tip of Teloran¡¯s blade had been shattered when he breached Climb¡¯s armor initially. Worse, that the damage had just been far greater by his thrust. The front third of his sword blew to pieces, a long and straight piece pirouetting end over end before clattering to the floor. His visage had been shocked mouth agape, completely unaware of the sure risk he was rolling against.

    I¡¯ll run you through!

    Climb tried to burst forward, yet as soon as he tried to wrench his feet from the floor, fell off balance and was forced to stop. The throbbing in his side was too intense. Teloran¡¯s face, having been dour and scared up until this point, shifted. His mouth, not yet closed from his previous mistake, curled upward. It did so until he wore a wry and disbelieving grin. To Climb¡¯s horror, Teloran simply took a step backwards, then did so again. Climb tried to follow, but his movements were shallow, and he couldn¡¯t lift his feet from the ground.

    No- No this can¡¯t be happening!

    He steeled himself against the pain, and took a step forward with his blade leveled. He felt broken metal slice his insides some more, cutting into the more important cavities of his body. When he tried to take a second however, he nearly collapsed. Teloran continued to move backwards, his short pace outdoing Climb¡¯s staccato fits forward. Climb to take a second step, and then a third. The distance between the two grew, each pace Climb took streaking the floor with more of his vitality. His whole left side from abdomen down was stained red, as was his face, his left foot scraping the floor with every advance. Climb could not catch up.

    ¡°No¡­¡±

    Climb¡¯s voice was weak, his words cut off by the grating sound of air taken in harsh breaths. He tried to arc his sword, succeeding, but only to the barest force. Teloran dodged back, his pace building. Climb accelerated his, hovelling faster and gritting through the pain. Exhaling was met with sharpness to his side, some piece of slag having burrowed itself under a rib. He couldn¡¯t help but keep his chest full, but this robbed him of full breaths. Teloran¡¯s smile started to grow stale, his eyes losing some of their light as they looked on Climb with increasing disbelief.

    I¡¯m not¡­ going down. Not while you¡¯re still up.

    Teloran stopped and adopted a defensive stance, looking increasingly uncomfortable as Climb approached. They were now only ten paces from the corner that led to Renner¡¯s room. Even though his sword had been cropped short, its measure from Teloran¡¯s body was no less than equal to Climb¡¯s, such was his height. Even through the haze of his mind, Climb could tell he was baiting an attack, lest Climb simply stagnate and bleed out.

    I¡¯m¡­ going to protect¡­ Renner.

    Climb roiled his energies, building everything he could into a gyre of ephemera. He forced his veins open, channels growing wider and faster, blood flowing swifter between all the parts of his body. He bled faster, but he did not care. His insides resonated, his power beating in time with his heart. He cascaded everything that remained into his arms, and his legs. He drove his body forward, closing the gap as best he could. The shard jammed behind his ribs broke loose and was driven far deeper into him. His legs faltered, catching themselves and twisting out from under him. His blade was out of reach of Teloran. Climb half-screamed, half-roared, swinging his sword leftward in a wide and wild arc. He torqued with such force that his arm dislocated, pulling from its socket. It passed by Teloran¡¯s neck, before striking and breaking the window to his left. Climb fell in that direction, his blade-arm hooking around and out of the shattered remains of the glass, barely keeping his sword in his grasp as it dangled outside the palace.

    No!

    Climb knew he was done for. He had wiffed his last chance to slay Teloran, and now lay exposed to a counter attack, one Teloran would surely make mortal. He had failed as Renner¡¯s bodyguard, and for all the agonies that gripped his body in this moment, none compared to that shame. He turned his head weakly, expecting to see the incoming flash of steel reflecting the candle flames of the hall. To his confusion, Teloran was standing exactly where he was a moment prior, unmoved. A thin red line drew across his throat, so slim as to seem a trick of the light. It thickened, near-imperceptible bumps in its constitution growing into drops, then serving as the stems of streams. They grew fatter, more blood fonting from his neck. He tried to pull in a breath, but he could do no more but gasp. His left hand shot to his throat as he stumbled back, trying to wick the flow away. It did not stop.

    Climb wrenched himself from the window, pulling his blade arm and sword, Teloran struggling to arrest the flow. He tried to press his hand into his neck, stepping further back as he did so, Climb had the sense to wrench his attention away and apply a healing substance. He reached into one of his pockets with his left hand, wincing at the force against his wound, removing a small tin. He thumbed off the lid, it warbling as it struck the ground. He scooped some of the paste inside into his palm, a soothing sensation wherever it touched. The flesh of his hand began to knit; soon, the rest of his wounds too. A horrifying sucking noise as his blade arm pulled back into place. Looking up to Teloran, he saw his adversary was still struggling to bay what had become a flood. It did not stop.

    Teloran, now flush against the far wall of the elbow, struggled to stand. He began to wave side to side, dropping his sword. He shot his right hand to his side, trying to open a pouch on his waist. He fumbled it, his hand shaking so violently he was unable to snap it open. He leaned to his left, his left hand too wet to brace. He slipped off his feet completely, trying to catch himself on one of the stout tables of the hall. He struck it with force, and both he and the vase on it careened to the carpet. Teloran tried to fight himself up, bracing with his hand and trying to rise, but couldn¡¯t, the torrent from his neck flowing completely unabated. Climb looked on stock still, feeling paralyed by subsuming fear and sick fascination. He had seen those who would soon meet their fate, and those already had lost their grip and fell into the earth, but he had never seen a man slip from life to death as it was happening. Teloran¡¯s hand gave way, and his torso fell a short distance before halting with a dull and quiet thud. It did not stop.

    It took Climb a moment to realize the gravity of what had just happened. He had just killed a Knight-Officer.

    What have I done?

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (19)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    Renner lurked in the dark, deep in the abyss of nonexistence. She felt nothing, adrift in the total flows of what was not when she was so without. Everything she was or had been was simply obliterated, shuffled into the dead static of unconsciousness. There was peace in emptiness. A breach. Something glittered in the dark, casting all in a new light. Suddenly there was, and there was what was not, a binary dredged from the entropy. Renner¡¯s face was illuminated in the depths, and she began to catalyze. The shredded fragments of herself started to draw together, first in loose and haphazard ways; thoughts and qualia connected without any regard. Her thoughts fell apart and would reform. The brilliant mote continued to shine, and she no longer could hide in the urblack. She began to assemble, suddenly everything that came before feeling scant and nonsensical. Renner was ripped into reality.

    ¡°Highness!¡±

    Climb? Climb is here- he¡¯s calling- he¡¯s in my room.

    Her thoughts crashed into each other, only breaking free and crystalizing as words in staccato bursts. Her entire body rattled, sensations cascading when just a moment ago there were none and no time upon which to mark their absence. Her eyes shot open, and she saw her room was just as dim as when she drifted off to sleep.

    His voice. Is something wrong.?

    She tried to find him in her gaze, but didn¡¯t succeed before she felt her left side sag slightly as the bed moved out from under her. Before she could comprehend this, she felt cold; the cool mithril of Climb¡¯s gauntlets was stinging her skin and tugging the straps of her dress - which she only now realized was not eveningwear - as he slipped his hands under her. There was moisture too, as well as a clattering noise, neither of which she could not place.

    ¡°...Climb?¡±

    She realized she had used her true voice, feeling a dusting of panic at the mistake. She had spoken before she could render her mask, something she always was granted time to do in the earliest spaces of her day. Her ears caught the feebleness of her voice - it sounding faint, soft, and confused - all things she wished to communicate. She had not revealed herself. She let that component of self-preservation in herself relax, and threw herself into understanding the moment. Climb had nearly dragged her out of bed completely, foisting her up.

    He almost has me to my feet. Why? This is unbelievably strange.

    Her toes brushed the tile floor, Climb trying to set her down. It was devoid of heat, and caused her to cringe slightly. She struggled to get her feet under her, having to untangle them to set them flush. She twitched, feeling a horrid pressure on the side of her head. The sound of metal moving past itself filed her ears, searing her.

    The side of my head is throbbing; I¡¯m absent coordination; hurts to see, hear, and think. I¡¯m not yet clear from drink yet.

    ¡°Princess, we need to go.¡±

    Before she could grasp what was happening, he was already bidding her forward, she nestled in his left arm. The sensation of wetness grew, something of Climb¡¯s left flank smearing into her. She lagged half a moment behind the progression of events, doing her best to fight her mind fully to the surface, fettered by a tattered drunkenness.

    Why is he retrieving me? Surely any cause to do so would be known by others. Is there anyone else present?

    They were in the sitting room now, Renner doing her best to piece the pitch of the space. She could pry no one else from the gloom. Climb was taking her from her room alone. Despite herself and the growing anathema of events, her consumption in the revelry prior had wetted her soul and she slipped into indulging a girlish fantasy.

    Ah, is he finally ¡®stealing me away in the depths of the night¡¯? How wonderful! He called me princess, too. How¡­ intimate of him.

    Her mask threatened to break from her again, feeling increasingly like she was dangling over a brink. She began to admonish herself, the risk of her act cracking in front of Climb too likely and grievous an error to be walked back with ease.

    This is unacceptable of me, I am failing on every count here. No, by any possible accounting. I need lucidity. Some of the liars-temperance, then.

    ¡°Climb¡­ the potions.¡±

    Renner gestured limply to the small cabinet drawer where she kept such things.

    ¡°Y-yes of course.¡±

    Is that embarrassment in his voice? I suppose it''s only natural of him. I will have so much to make up for after this is said and done. I wonder where we¡¯re going to secret away too?

    Climb strode to the cabinet with Renner in hand, her struggling to keep abreast with the swiftness of pace. She twisted slightly in his arms, and in a way she could not understand, this causing him to buck with a sharply hissed inhale. Before she could articulate a response, they had arrived, Climb releasing her and bringing his arm back around to shuffle through the drawer. It was filled with vials of alchemical and medical make, an expense she had made long ago at Laykus¡¯s behest. To Renner¡¯s confusion, he did not grab any of the antidotes to drink, instead snatching at those made to stitch flesh. He popped the cork of one with his thumb and downed it.

    What?! Is he- is there a danger?

    Stuffing the rest in his pockets, he turned back to the princess, his face not visible to her in the dark. He seemed to double take, and then pivoted back to the drawer, withdrawing what Renner had desired in the first place. He put it into her hands, clasping his around hers. The slurry of her mind knew that this action had been born from an underlying hazard, but only vaguely so.

    ¡°Highness, please drink this.¡±

    With a little struggle, she pulled out the cork and dutifully complied, bringing the vial to lips and letting it pour into her mouth. It had a taste so earthen as to be torturous, she doing her best to drink it fast. As the first trickles began to slide down her throat, they slipped through the flesh and were caught in the rhythms of her vitality. Her next heartbeat caused the sides of her skull to sear, her suffering at the headache increasing tenfold at the introduction of abstinent medicines to her body. The pain - feeling like hot iron driven through her clasped eyes - and her tiredness threw her off balance. The second heartbeat only magnified the agony and the third caused her to stumble slightly, nearly slipping from her feet entirely before Climb caught her.

    ¡°Your Highness!¡±

    Four more beats passed, the final of which baying her suffering. The lush fog of her mind broke.

    The congruity again. He¡¯s here, he touched me, he¡¯s here in capacity, he did that with need; there is an immediate danger. He drank a potion, he¡¯s been wounded, he¡¯s fought in combat; there has been violence. He stocked himself with more healing potions, he¡¯s preparing for further combat; there still is imminent danger. He came here alone, he was separated from the rest, was the only survivor, or was the only participant; the danger is great.

    Her eyes snapped open.

    ¡°Climb, what happened?¡±

    Even in the dimness, Renner could see his face turn unmoving. He let go of her, his arms falling to his side.

    ¡°We- we need to go.¡±

    He bucked me? He won¡¯t tell me, he¡¯s afraid too, something foul has occurred; no, he¡¯s committed an act he sees as foul. I need to cut through his inhibition. Something accusatory.

    ¡°Climb, what have you done?¡±

    Her words were soft and delivered forlornly, making them all the more biting. He froze, unable to bear the sickly sweet lashing she had made at his roots. His voice, already shaking, broke at the seams.

    ¡°He- Kn-knight Teloran was-¡±

    He strained Teloran¡¯s name; He hates Teloran. Climb is my dog, he comes here not to ensure self-preservation, but to protect me. Climb has fought Teloran. Climb is here alone, it was unsanctioned, no other survivors in known retreat, he has taken the time to gather supplies, the chance of immediate counterattack is low, Climb has killed Teloran. Climb would not kill, wound, or maim, without defensive cause; he knows that there is a danger specifically against me. Teloran was a component of this danger. Teloran would not act without orders from Barbro, Barbro ordered Teloran to assassinate me.

    ¡°Coming here to kill me.¡±

    Climb again stuttered, his words drawing off into nothing. She had spoken in an empty yet not emotionless voice. She heard his breathing start several times over. Her deduction was too swift for him, and he seemed to suffer at the rapid pace of her thought. That she could divine the course of events from the scant fragments she had been let to set upon was a dark miracle, and he could not bear it.

    Again a mistake! I spoke too soon, I should not have cut him off. My act is slipshod, I can neither construct a persona as Princess acutely nor accurately now. I am not holding fast to that image. Cease speaking before- Gods above Barbro was going to have me killed!

    Renner felt her heart skip a beat, and for a twip, she felt pure panic. She recovered before she slipped off her balance a second time, but the matrix of her mind jammed.

    He- He wanted to kill me. He was- Teloran was coming to kill me. Had Climb not stopped him, I would have been run through in my sleep.

    Phantom tingling appeared in several spots on her front, places which a blade could have slipped through into her. She pressed her hands into her chest and abdomen, trying to drown the sensation in things that truly existed. She could not succeed, her entire body flaming igniting in terror. She felt nauseous. Her eyes wetted. She began to shake. Her thoughts went completely non-linear.

    My brother wanted me murdered. He followed through on his anger. He was- no, is consumed by his rage. What happens when he finds out I¡¯m still alive? That Climb killed his adjutant. Teloran is- no, was a Knight-Officer! Climb slew- he- a gods-forsaken Knight-Officer! That¡¯s a mortal crime. Climb could be strung-up from the gallows for that. Silver lining, easy way to fulfill- no, disparity of blood. Execution would be ¡®igni nihil¡¯. No chance of resurrection. Gods had Climb not stopped him...

    ¡°Climb-¡±

    Renner burst forward, wrapping herself around Climb before he could react. She felt something poke into her when she cleaved herself to him. He gave a stout cry, one she could clearly identify as pain. More wetness on her skin, seeping through her dress. She pulled back slightly, Climb shaking, but standing stock and not returning her embrace. She looked downward, seeing contrasts she did not understand. His armor, even in the night, should still have been bright. Much of it was, but it was splotched and fouled down his left flank; the spot that had prodded her distended and torn. Her mind summed it all together, and she realized that his armor had been blown through. Shrapnel was embedded in his flesh. Terrible visions struck her. That he had been nearly killed without her purview; that she would have been next. She pulled in a sharp breath and screamed, Climb smothering her mouth within a second.

    ¡°Princess, please!¡±

    I would be dead by now. I would be dead. Had Climb not stopped him. I wouldn¡¯t have woken up.

    Her cry fell off, tears breaking free from her eyes and streaming down her face. Her shaking worsened, and she was no longer able to still her body. Her mind slurried, unable to render anything in detail. She could not muster any thoughts, any coherent train of thoughts. She was overwhelmed with base emotions, formorst of which was fear.

    ¡°We need to be quiet.¡±

    Renner nodded slowly, her tears reaching his gauntlet. Climb broke his hand away, Renner swallowing. She tried to find words to speak, but could dredge none from the shattered wreck of her mind. She began to force her thoughts together.

    His blood, Gods I¡¯m covered in his blood. I- No, I need to think here. Destabilizing here is sinfully incompetent. I need to find a way out. Where can we go? If Barbro sent Teloran after me, that means that things have destabilized elsewhere. He wouldn¡¯t attempt it unless he was certain it wouldn¡¯t be stopped. He must think Climb was my only defense; he would need to be shielded from counterattack too. The Royal Guard would need to be occupied, Jelka, Galdra, Retha- so many as to be absurd. A plot would need to be at play. My end would be part of a far larger scheme for it to even be possible. A careless attempt on my life, even if it succeeded, would bring any who attempted to do so without fundamentally breaking the hierarchy. The assassination of my father? Gazef would need to be eliminated too- Ah so the scheme with Slane was truly intended as a runup to an exchange of power? So my brother was involved with it, or at least a tool in its coming.

    ¡°Climb, who else?¡±

    ¡°No one else Your Highness, it was just¡­ him.¡±

    Just Teloran sent? So- Ah, that would figure. Barbro would only trust Teloran to do such a thing, and he did so with no one else in league. His contemporaries want to avoid as much turmoil as possible. They would want to avoid wasting an asset for me. Having the Golden Princess die the same night as her father doesn¡¯t make for any stronger justification for war, which would certainly be innocent. This is an outright exchange, swapping a King for a half-fit copy made twice as dense. Who could tell what sort of anger would erupt? Ah, and he is dumb as to the implication. Barbro is not the one being swift-handed here, someone else is placing him on the throne. The only two of six who would benefit enough to attempt would be Bollopue or Lytton, but which of the two? Frustrating, I still cannot narrow down to the man. This is so clever as to be beyond him. There are many hands at play here.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes Climb?¡±

    ¡°What do we do?¡±

    His voice shook, its timbre brimming with a deep agony. The two of them were close, she still with her hands on his armor. She caught the scent of him, the air brimming with the metallic and saline flavors of spilt vitality. They were not clear to her, but she imagined the character of his eyes.

    My puppy is looking to me for answers. Saccharine. There can be no other relevant query. There is still lethality waiting in the wings. Who has arms and who would take us? Certainly the Royal Guard- no, not if father has already been slain. How many houses have men-at-arms with them tonight? Who would go with who? Who would Barbro be collaborating with? The number seems near uncountable, no time to think of them all. Who would bring a significant complement? Bolloupe, Raeven, and Urovana have all brought forces. Knights of Vellen, Helgrave, Theiern, Yinra, and Kilijen are here too. So many could turn against me if ordered too by a King Andrean. Bolloupe and Lytton with certainty; Blumrush if wetted; Urovana would do so, but not without guilt; Pespea would be safe to run too, Vena would stand and make a case on my behalf to him; I could compel Raeven to provide me safe passage as well. Safe passage to where? Gods this has become complex.

    ¡°Climb, do you know where Marquis Pespea is?¡±

    ¡°No, Your Highness. I¡¯m sorry, I haven¡¯t seen him since-¡±

    We would need to find him, and that exposes us. Flee the palace and- No, the secret ways are a known quantity in this scheme. We ought to flee in the immediate to Zanac. His viewing of Barbro should be as low as mine. I can soothsay a course of action on this in transit. To think flight is a consideration. If only I could send for Lakyus.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, Climb. We¡¯ll go to Zanac.¡±

    Is my father alive? Is Gazef alive? There¡¯s no way to tell.

    Renner loosed her hands and broke from Climb. She felt strange, the tempest roiling in her soul having poured so much out that she felt spent. Breaks of character were one thing, but a sword over her head was something she had never before known.

    To him, I¡¯m simply his half-sister. Is this retaliation for my rejection of Harlink? I¡¯m sure its only a component of his murderous intent. An odd thing- Ah. My hand in marriage was payment to Harlink for letting such violence occur on his land. Quixotic. I wonder why that did not come to me till now. Perhaps I was unwilling to dismiss the efficacy of my rejections. Now I suffer from a mistake I made months ago.

    ¡°We need to leave. Now.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. Stay close.¡±

    Renner nodded, Climb pivoting to the door to the corridor. From here to Zanac¡¯s room would be no more than a hundred and fifty paces, yes the distance seemed an impossible gulf. Renner feared inwardly she would see violence, yet quenched the thought immediately before it could materialize as words in her mind.

    Why even conduct such a plot at all? Slane did not slay Gazef, how does the dual purpose of hunting my father become plausible? No, perhaps there was an inertia to it. Such a conspiracy, if months coming would be years making. People unwilling to break arrangements; deals made- even binding ones. How they deal with Gazef becomes the question. What of guildsmen? I suppose they won¡¯t dedicate themselves to matters of country anyway; though they are a deadly force. Coin should keep them hinged.

    Climb drew, Renner starting at the sight. She had seen him blade-in-hand many times before, but never with true cause. He began to move, she tailing just behind him. They reached the door to the hall, Climb opening it slowly, peaking through the crack. After a moment, he opened it wider and stepped out. He swept his gaze, and upon seeing no reaction, Renner knew they were alone. He bid her outward, and as she entered the corridor. It was far brighter here, even if only by candlelight. The blood on Climb¡¯s armor was no longer simply a contrast in the dark, but an agitated red. Renner¡¯s emotions roiled. She turned her eyes way to the right, and saw a new class of horror all together. It took her a few moments to realize what was crumpled on the ground was a man. He was completely still.

    That¡¯s Teloran.

    The bloodstains, shards of porcelain broken from a flower vase, and furling of the carpet rendered vivid images of thrashing in Renner¡¯s mind. She was consumed with a number of physical sensations, her nausea growing to outright sickness. She brought her hand to her mouth, baying back the solvents of her insides. Woozieness too, and she tried her best to plant her feet firmly in the ground lest she embarrass herself a third time this evening. All this, yet she did not want to break her eyes away. She was utterly fascinated, choosing to bear her body¡¯s rebellion to stare at him a little longer.

    The course of the stuff sweeps around the corner, I suppose he came round already in peril. Ichor, yes, but so little gore. What a strange thing. I have no concept of the material construction of the body. Was anything else supposed to give way? Surely some other biles, no? Again intuition fails me; first in magic, now medicine. A second lagging in the self. Ah, that little spurt there by his right hand. Was he bearing himself up when he slipped on his own blood? Comic. No, more than that. Almost poetic, or at least the false work of a hack. The spilled flowers by his side soaked in him? That feels pastice.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    I have seen those in the wake of their ends, and I suppose those in ending. Diseased creatures of warrens and jungles are not an unknown quantity on the streets of the Kingdom. Prior to his uplifting, was my puppy not counted among them? Ah, the contrast here is the violence and intimacy of this. Teloran did not simply meet an end, but was ended. I did not expect this to be so moving.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    I wonder what Climb¡¯s end will be like. Will he possess such vigor? What words will pass from his lips as he slips below? How much further could I drive him into loyalty when he comes back? I am beginning to desire such a thing greatly. Odd. When I saw signs of violence on Climb, I felt as if I had been smote; as if my hands were emptied of him. But death in another provokes nothing but an interest in wetworking? The demarcations are obvious; I see strata interposed between-

    ¡°Your Highness!¡±

    She pivoted round to see agony and shame in his eyes. He was near to tears, his face mournful and twitching. His blood was a sight of a different caliber, and her emotions quenched into new forms.

    By all counts he must feel he¡¯s failed me. To let me spy such rotten things. Indeed, this has disturbed me, even if only a twip. That feeling is not foriegn, I failed you too Climb. I was complacent tonight. I did not anticipate the foolishness of the opposition, that they would choose turmoil and death. After tonight, things will be altered. A new character for the politics of the nation. The sun will rise over Re-Estize nevertheless, but it will rise a little blacker.

    ¡°We need to go, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Suddenly, I have lost that feeling of¡­ loss? A poor way to say it, but one that feels poignant yet again. Identity reigns supreme in such matters. I seem to discern between the lesser and greater species once more. I believe my darling that in some fundamental matter of your being, you qualify closer to me. A being worthy of a collar. A dog among rats. I am back in control.

    ¡ª

    A war mage. What are the odds of that?

    Elias and Jelka were huddled behind a thrown over table, two smoldering holes blown through it near its center.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think that boy would ever get so brazen.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°El-Nix.¡±

    They were deep in the King¡¯s quarters, the sitting room directly adjacent to His Majesty¡¯s bedroom. The pair had been in the company of the King, Elias making his rounds deeper into the night to avoid the intrigues of guests. Their conversation had been cut short as a quartet of men burst into the foyer. Knight Galdra staved them off long enough for the King and Marquis Urovana to flee the room, bartering for the delay with his life. Elias drew and sated his blade on one in the retreat, Jelka fleeing to the back only to find the escape passage was simply jammed, a cruel twist of fate. Attempting but failing to run through a second, a triplet burst of arcane darts had driven Elias and Jelka to seek cover in a table, their charges hiding in the next room. Jelka had snatched a hidden crossbow from its underside, a short exchange of ranged fire negotiating them out of a melee. This had given them time, time that Jelka saw fit to use to identify their opponents.

    ¡°What? You think they¡¯re Imperial?¡±

    ¡°Whoever that man is, he¡¯s clearly a product of that academy.¡±

    ¡°You figure?¡±

    ¡°His aim, those spells of his.¡±

    A sharply rising resonance cut their conversation, followed by a crack as the portion of the table behind Elias¡¯s head was blown to pieces. Flaming splinters of wood scattered the space behind them, embedding in some of the furniture. The spot that had broken away was left aflame, Elias sinking down a little farther to avoid his hair catching as well.

    This was dire before, but he seems content to chip at us. As if he isn¡¯t expecting reinforcements from the rear.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He seems to only have one trick.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the third fire bolt he¡¯s cast. The Veneficus of Arwintar tend to know more evocations than that.¡±

    Moreover, it¡¯s twenty five seconds between every blast. Those are cantrip casts, they don¡¯t have the mana to do anything better. The man by his side always fires a bolt after, hoping to catch one of us in the shuffle?

    ¡°You¡¯re saying because he hasn¡¯t blasted us away with lightning, he''s not Imperial?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying, why would the boy Emperor send a second rate wizard as an assassin? Why would the Monster send one?¡±

    ¡°El-Nix has the most to gain here. Hitting the border, then the palace while a war council takes place. They¡¯ll break across the border in force.¡±

    Undera, we both know that¡¯s not the case. El-Nix has no interest in provoking a broadfront war, not now. He¡¯s content to grind us down and wait for the right time. He¡¯s twenty-two, he doesn¡¯t need to take a fight any time soon. We both know that this is faction violence. Some noble too stupid to wait for Barbro to take power.

    ¡°Well, there is a way to check.¡±

    Elias peeked through one of the breaches and spied that their opponents were also in cover behind a door frame. The bulk of their bodies obscured, neither of those flanking the door wishing to draw fire between castings.

    Twenty five seconds up soon. Three. Two. One.

    As if on cue, the mage twitched around the corner and shot forth a lance of flame, smiting the segment of table to Elias¡¯s dexter, a bolt sailing through it a twip later. A scrap of wood scraped his face, yet he did not twitch. He flicked his finger towards Jelka¡¯s crossbow, who after a moment, passed it to him. He took a slow and deep breath, preparing himself. He stood over the barricade and raised his voice, loud enough to be heard from the other room.

    Twenty two.

    ¡°You know, I was wondering to myself how a fatherless bastard like you could have ever been made.¡±

    Nineteen.

    No response, but he watched his opposites shuffle their feet slightly. He loaded a bolt and pressed his taunt further. Jelka hissed frantically, not understanding why his comrade was so willingly exposing himself to danger.

    ¡°Courier Brendel get down!¡±

    ¡°What sort of things does it take for a man to turn his back to honor and valor? To conspire to cleave King from Country.¡±

    Thirteen.

    Elias calmly leveled his crossbow at the left side of the doorframe, the side which the mage was hidden behind.

    ¡°Brendel, That¡¯s an order!¡±

    ¡°When it comes to decisions like that, I think of my mother. Her lovely face always kept me on the path of all things good. How can a man turn his back on that smile?¡±

    Four.

    ¡°And then it hit me. Your mother must have been a right ugly whore.¡±

    ¡°Die where you stand!¡±

    The caster broke from the doorframe with murderous intent in his eyes. Elias pulled the trigger and loosed, bolt embedding in the caster. He fell without power, hitting the ground with a dull thump. Elias sunk down into cover, dodging a desperate followup bolt that one of his enemies had planned to fire in tandem.

    There we go. People like you are too easy to bait.

    ¡°Not imperial.¡±

    ¡°What are you- why?!¡±

    ¡°No accent.¡±

    Jelka seemed stunned for a moment, before uttering an muffled expletive under his breath. Elias twitched his head up, drawing another bolt. The remaining bladesman did not charge, instead having shuffled to where the mage had stood. Neither had sought to rescue their dying comrade, who was currently giving a low moan as he clutched his abdomen, his robes fouling.

    ¡°Honorless men, they won¡¯t retrieve one of their own.¡±

    How hard can it be to pull him off the floor, sate his thirst for a potion of healing? Surely he¡¯ll die at this rate within five minutes. Are they just trying to avoid ranged attack? We have bolts, and I¡¯d put them down if they tried, but he¡¯s their caster. Don¡¯t they need him ready to fight?

    ¡°¡®A wicked man finds no role for himself in the after.¡¯"

    ¡°Ay¡­¡±

    Wait, no. Death of their ranged man, they shouldn¡¯t stand still, they should be rushing us down. Why not? How could they have time to wait? Are these men actually ¡®second-rate¡¯? If you¡¯re going to attempt to kill his Majesty, wouldn¡¯t you send your best?

    Elias began to suspect something was truly wrong. He could not understand why his opponents were not charging forth from their positions in a rush. He shot a quick glance to Jelka, seeing his face was also twisted in confusion.

    No, they couldn¡¯t be poor fighters. They slew Yilna. Pity that, he was a good man. None of this makes sense. For the love of all things fourfold, they¡¯re hunting the head of his Majesty! Surely they have to expect others to come ¡®round eventually. They can¡¯t hold a counter-assault from behind. How does any of this figure?

    Elias loaded a bolt into the crossbow. The table they were behind was nearly torn in half, the wooden surface near the center almost entirely blasted away. He slid the crossbow back to Jelka, not wishing to put himself at any further risk. The thoughts and actions of their enemy remained indecipherable.

    ¡°As if he isn¡¯t expecting reinforcements from the rear¡±... ¡°the rear.¡±

    Everything clicked into place for Elias.

    The passage was never blocked.

    ¡°The King!¡±

    The pair broke from cover, Elias bolting forward towards the bedroom as Jelka twisted round and loosed a bolt as suppression before following. Elias leveled and flowed himself into his sword, knowing the door was already locked and built to resist assault. He struck it at full bore, the tip of his sword blowing out the wood where it struck as he carried it through. The locks broke from its body, and he maintained his speed going through. Four men were in the room. Four, when there should have only been two. The secret passage was agape, the blackness of its unlit passage seeming to be unending.

    ¡°Sire!¡±

    Ramposa and Urovana were eight paces distant from the assailants, both of which bore stilettos dripping with an iridescent fluid. Elias wrenched his sword from the wreck of the door, moving with as much swiftness as he could. He felt a horrid thud, a piercing pain near the square in his back. A burning sensation lit in his veins, the next beat of his heart spreading it wide through his torso; the beat after imbuing his entire body in sensations of flame.

    Poison bolt?

    He made two more steps in his dash before sinking his steel through the nearest assassin. The toxin was virulent, and by the time he had cleaved his hilt to the body of the man, his body had lost all strength. He tried to grip and drink an antidote, but he failed to provoke any movement in his hand. His momentum carried him and the skulk off their balance, Elias unable to prevent himself from falling. He realized his end was to be swift. His senses slicked, and as his skull was filled with pulsing flame, his mind grabbed at a few scant images of himself. None resolved clearly; vague impressions of the faces of loved ones, errant scraps of training and combat, spent prides that had long since hollowed of any meaning. A twip of regret, as he realized he would have no knowing of the outcome of this night. They were a rushed and poor measure of the man that was Elias Jund Pell Brendel, but he had no time for more, slipping from his feet and the world evermore.

    Ah. That¡¯s that then.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (20)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    Climb saw the moment before his eyes again and again. He could not understand, his blade should not have cleaved Teloran¡¯s throat.

    My reach was too short. How could it have touched? It doesn¡¯t make sense. I don¡¯t understand how- I can¡¯t figure it out.

    Renner was by his side, gripping his left hand tightly as they walked. They were pathing towards Zanac¡¯s room, trying to take as many lesser ways as they could. They moved swiftly, yet did not run. His thoughts began to drift to her, but he wrenched them away, trying his best to stay sharp and ready for combat. He was alone, protecting a defenseless charge by himself, already having gone through the exhaustion of one melee which almost left him dead, and completely unsure of who his enemy be or what they would look like. The pall of the grave seemed to be trailing him, and he felt a deathly anxiety that he would be slain and his mistress set upon.

    Gods, I killed someone. I can¡¯t believe I killed someone. Murdered? I- How? It was in defense of¡­ her, but he- he was a highblood! Are they to hang me for this?!

    The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to vomit. Perils to his mistress, the specter of his own mortality, agonies over the station of his first, and interweaving guilt for feeling all three of the previous in the first place brewed deep suffering in his soul. He was afraid, his fears feeling independent of direction and cause. Shreds of more coherent grievance fell apart, he desperately holding onto his mission. He pulled in a two-timed breath, his lungs staggering over themselves. His chest seized, sharp pains at his side. He looked to his left, lifting his arm slightly to view the flank of his body better.

    I never pulled out the parts of my armor. They¡¯re still inside me.

    He saw glints in his side, metal shards protruding through the lower part of his ribcage. The sight did not hold to inspection, and as he looked closer, he realized he could not discern the spot where the foriegn bodies ended and his skin began. The flesh at joining of the vitreous and vital was rawwed, but not torn. The jagged chunks of metal had been caught in the intraphysio knitwork of healing magic. They were not simply embedded in Climb, they were fused. As he realized what his eyes were seeing, his stomach was tested a second time. He gagged, the involuntary motion provoking worse lacerations on his insides as hard edges swept through muscle and tissue, this causing him to gag more. He steeled himself and bayed back more convulsions, but the sensation was jarring nonetheless.

    What was it that Hoylan warned me of? Cuts on the inside? Blood that escapes¡­ something. The veins? Something¡­ Agh, I can¡¯t remember! I wonder if I¡¯ll ever see him again, or any of the rest in the guardhouse. He probably hates me now anyway. If I¡¯m wounded on the inside, and I keep drinking tonics, will I ¡°burn out¡±? That was something Hoylan said too. I don¡¯t know.

    For all he trained it, Climb knew little of the body. Renner had given him an education, but not in subjects of physicality. She had taught him to read and write, the basics of arithmetic, and some crass tellings of history; and wit-permitting, glimpses at what heights she had driven herself too. The active effort by her had fallen off as they aged. He knew not why, but the thought came to him, his anguish over the events of the umbra nabbed at him. His thoughts had been turned from protecting his mistress to her as a person. He allowed himself an absent wonder about his past.

    Why did we stop? It was hard, but I did it anyway. What she gave me was better than anyone else in the guardhouse, equal even to Ehkan. I suppose she felt¡­ unprincess-like, reading to me; and I could never keep up. Gods, and I seriously thought to doubt if she loved me. I really am an idiot aren¡¯t I?

    He caught himself performing a laxity, and chastised himself. His breath had fallen completely from its rhythm, lost in some earlier eon of the night. He whipped it back into form, making sure each subsequent stroke of his chest was full and broad - at least as broad as he could make it considering the jutting chromes of his torso. They were nearing a junction, Climb filling his lungs.

    ¡°Right.¡±

    Her voice was quiet, soft enough to nearly be subsumed by the ambient depth of the hall. Climb nodded. Her taking command of him was a twin-tinged sentiment, halfways ashamed that she would need to take the reins of leadership in a time of martial crisis, halfways grateful she had. The latter emotion won out over his mind, and he simply contented himself to be guided from the rear.

    I can¡¯t believe we haven¡¯t met any nightwatch. Are they still lazing on their duty? Or merely distracted. Have there been other¡­ uh, a-attempts? I don¡¯t know.

    He crept to the edge of the corner, lowering his blade to avoid it protruding beyond its cover before his eyes could seek what it obscured. He leaned, seeing no one to the left of the joining, nor to the right. He slipped round, Renner following ajoint. There was nothing ahead but further junction.

    We¡¯re close now, I think.

    They drew closer, now only a score paces distant. A catch of the light dazzled his vision, a thin sliver of metal breaking the static of the joining afield. Four men rounded the corner at speed, three of which had swords drawn. It was a nightmare.

    ¡°Highness!¡±

    Climb half bid, half pushed her back, ripping his hand from hers. He dropped himself, entering a blade-leveled stance. His hands tensed, gripping the haft of his weapon tightly. His body alit yet again, tendon and sinew flaring with power as they had so many times previous this night. The men did not stop moving. The front three were not simply armed, but armored. The gloom was laid on too thick - candlelight unable to vanquish it - and Climb could not distinguish the rearmost of the four beyond noting that he was donned in no plate. He knew none of their faces; they were entirely foreign to the palace.

    They¡¯re too close!

    ¡°Hark! Step no closer or I¡¯ll cut you down where you stand!¡±

    His voice trembled, but he was loud, and carried a serration in his timbre. The four stopped dead. It took Climb a moment to realize he had succeeded, and another one further to realize why. His side was fouled, as was the flank of his mistress. His blade was drawn, and he bore a wild and desperate look in his eye. His appearance told that had killed in defense of her, and he would do it again. The man in the rear broke to the front of the quartet, his clothing fine and filigreed. Climb caught his visage, and realized it was Count Keveleos.

    ¡°Your highness, Climb! Thank the Gods!¡±

    Climb felt a wave of relief, half tempted to lower his blade, which he would not do without explicit permission of his mistress. He stayed still, not leaving his stance, nor saying a word. Keveleos pressed.

    ¡°There¡¯s been violence, chaos abounding in every corner! My men and those of Rochefort have established a sanctuary. I came to retrieve you!¡±

    He twitched his head back to see Renner hand to her face, her eyes darting across the men in front of her. He and her caught each other''s gaze for a moment, and in another thing that did not resolve, her eyes seemed to gain a twinkle the longer they looked. She gave a stunted nod, Climb rising from his crouch as he lowered his blade. She broke the tension first.

    ¡°We¡¯ll come with you, Count. Do you know the whereabouts of my brother? This night is filled with horrors, and I fear for him!¡±

    What?! Oh, she¡¯s speaking of Prince Zanac.

    She began to walk forward, tapping Climb gently to draw him with. He let her take the lead, feeling far better that she was now flanked on all sides by either the walls of the corridor or those willing to stand as her escorts. For the first time since he had noticed that the guard by her door was absent, he felt that she was protected. Not yet safe, but stood sentry upon. Weight fell from his shoulders, and his inner face showed a slight smile.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen his highness Zanac- er, unless you''re referring to your eldest?¡±

    ¡°Both! Please Count, tell me they¡¯re safe!¡±

    What!? How can she-

    Climb¡¯s mind ran against itself. He could not understand Renner¡¯s words. That she could carry concern in her heart not only for her youngest brother, but for the traitor who had tried to slay her. In a thought he quashed near instantly, for the traitor that had tried to kill him. He did not stagger, but he started slightly, and his face froze. Shame followed quickly, a cross of her words and his visible reaction to it wrenching his soul.

    ¡°I¡¯m unsure, your highness.¡±

    ¡°My sister, then?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, I have no knowledge of her either!¡±

    How can she say she wishes for that bastard¡¯s safety? He tried to- tried to have¡­ do rotten things to her. Does she not know? I told her Teloran, but not- no she said her brother¡¯s name after and came close to me. No, maybe she just saw the wound? But she only screamed after. So she did understand? But then why¡­ Agh!

    ¡°Where have you made your sanctuary Count?¡±

    Renner and Climb reached the bulk of their force, Keveleos and his men pivoting in place. They all set off at once, Climb having the wherewithal to peer through the depths of his turmoil to mark them as well-trained men in the dry interim between agonies of his mind. Keveleos kept his eyes on Renner, jumping his gaze between her and Climb. Climb realized the meaning of his mistress¡¯s words.

    She¡¯s lying for our safe passage. If she says anything otherwise, she could draw the ire of her brother. No, of so many others. Gods, oh my gods! It¡¯s unbelievable that she would need- would be forced to lie like that. It''s unfair! That any good word for him would need to leave her lips. It¡¯s so unfair.

    ¡°In one of the spare sitting rooms a floor below. I have my physician with me. What happened to you and to Climb? The Fourfold forbid you were caught in the course of tonight.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    What sort of question is that?!

    Climb felt his body lock. His teeth ground against each other as he could find no response. The image of his sweeping Teloran¡¯s neck came to him. How he was certain that Teloran was outside his measure. That moment where he was certain he was to die. He could not understand how he had lived.

    What can I say? I slew a Knight. Her own brother sent an assassin¡­ and I killed him. How can I say anything? No, no I need to. I- Her own brother tried to have her murdered! Gods I, I should-

    Climb heard a muffled and stunted sound. His mistress had her hand to her mouth, and her face cocked and turned back. Her eyes welled as she stifled another cry, beads of liquid slipping down her cheek. Her head was low, and her eyes lingered on the ground. She slowed for a moment, Climb nearly closing the gap before she resumed her pace. Her voice was choked and low.

    ¡°S-sorry. I can¡¯t¡­ um.¡±

    ¡°No, no! My deepest apologies! Forgive me, your highness; I asked without thinking! I did not mean-¡±

    Renner nodded slowly, her voice slipping off as Keveleos cut her off. More noise and tears came, but she did everything she could to choke them back. The little gulps of air she tried desperately to quash broke Climb a little inside.

    Her own brother tried to have her murdered. I can¡¯t imagine her thoughts right now. The pain she¡¯s feeling.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The atmosphere had curdled at Keveleos¡¯s impropriety, and even his second apology curdled in the face of her lamentations. She made a few inaudible sounds, presumably her own apology at being distraught. He gave a nod in place of genuflection, unable to make a proper bow until later. They all moved swiftly, Renner picking up speed as she went along. Climb turned his gaze to the rear, satisfying that no one else was in toe. He hit upon a strange realization.

    Yet¡­ yet, she still loves him, doesn¡¯t she? She wasn¡¯t lying for her own safety, but for his. No, she never even told an untruth. She couldn¡¯t bear too when he asked. ¡°Caught in the course.¡± Wasn¡¯t it obvious? The side of my armor is shattered, I bled on everything below that. No point in thinking about it. I suppose he just made a mistake. Maybe she really does care for Barbro¡¯s safety. Maybe she really does want him to be unharmed and unhurt.

    His chest torsioned, guilt wrenching deeper in his soul. That he had assigned a worse motive to his mistress than what had actually occurred ate at him. That the meaning of her words was genuine and born from a place of boundless care. Worse, he felt all the more frustrated at this.

    How can- No, I can¡¯t let myself be consumed by bitterness. I need to stay sharp¡­ I need to stay sharp and ready until we can get her to safety. I owe her that.

    His mind rent a little further. Her crying slowed and stopped, any whines or moans she made falling afield of Climb¡¯s power of hearing.

    No, no I owe her more than that. I will protect her. I will defend her. She shouldn¡¯t need to be strong, not like that. I swear by the light of the Gods, I will be your guardian.

    Once again, his mind snagged on thoughts of his first quarry. A moment of inspiration came to Climb.

    Perhaps it was divine intervention.

    ¡ª

    Her muscles pumped, carrying herself at full speed. Gagaran¡¯s arms heaved a long shaft past her head, a frighteningly large mass on its end. There was a man infront of her, he desperately throwing aside a spent crossbow. His hand crossed the diagonal, trying to grab for his blade. It was a fatal mistake.

    Ahh I got you now!

    Aided by its weight and all the momentum she kept from bearing it upward, she brought the warhammer down with overwhelming power. The strike was off axis, bucking his neck before striking and shattering his left shoulder. His hand fell away from the haft of his sword, it slipping from his sheath as he fell to the ground. She began to break her speed, boots no longer carrying her forward but rather dragging along the ground. It was a poor drogue, and she struggled to slow herself adequately. She clicked her tongue; the attack was sloppy by her standards.

    It¡¯s hard to get good traction on these floors. I thought that tomb in south-central Azerlisia was bad, everything frozen over in ice. These tiles and rugs though; it''s almost as bad.

    Keeping the momentum, she spun in place, swinging her hammer round in a low arc. She¡¯d have brought it higher, but even with its stouter measure it scraped the wall it swung past, scarring a delicate wooden engraving of flowers as it did so. Her warhammer made a second contact against an opponent, one she rated poorer even than the previous.

    Er, carpet? Boss got mad at me when I called what she was putting in a rug. She¡¯s such a prissy girl sometimes.

    The second man flew, the upward stroke of her weapon throwing him alight for a moment before he struck the ground again. The angle of impact was wrong, and his foot broke, its back nearly making contact with his shin. He screamed.

    Eh? I left him alive?! Pull it together!

    Gagaran finally arrested her slide, re-righting her weapon and bringing it down square on his chest. He was in plate, but her hammer dented it deep into his breast. His rib cage crunched, then caved. In a turn of events Gagaran found amazing, he let out a death rattle, somehow not yet content to die. He began to shudder, his body having the power remaining to struggle a little longer

    What?! How are you still alive after two of my strikes?

    ¡°Good Gods man, just give up the ghost already.¡±

    At her supplication, he stopped convulsing. Blood suddenly spurted from his mouth.  Gagaran was amazed.

    Wait, what?! Did he just- how- what the hell?

    Her confusion amplified tenfold, the seeming lag time of his death making no sense to her. She lost the course of the fight, and felt mystified in a way she hadn¡¯t known before. She had no precedent for any events like that in her years of adventure and battle. She marked it up to another oddity of battle, filing it away along with the other moments where she witnessed loosenings of the world. Gagaran had no time to doddle, and she tore her mind from the sight. Ripping her weapon out of his chest, she turned back and started. Lakyus was closer than she expected.

    ¡°You cleared your side-¡±

    ¡°Just two.¡±

    So that makes four in this hall.

    They had assaulted around a junction at speed, breaking at the split in the corridor. Gagaran had been forced to close the distance to kill her mark, but Lakyus had bid her floating blades forth, skewering her targets without doing more than dodging a bolt. She had turned in place, and now was nearly by Gagaran¡¯s side. Gagaran brought her weapon up high, wicking the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she did so.

    ¡°This way?¡±

    ¡°Yes. His majesty¡¯s quarters is around that corner there.¡±

    Four here on the third floor, the two downstairs. How many men did Eight Finger¡¯s send?

    Lakyus broke forward, Gagaran following her. It was no more than a dozen paces to the corner; the two rounded it, the entrance to Ramposa¡¯s quarters coming in full view. There was no pair of knights at the door, nor anyone else in the hall.

    This is bad.

    ¡°We¡¯re breaching. You take point. The space in there is tight so watch your measure.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    ¡°The columns in there should be sturdy, you won¡¯t be able to blow through them. No breaking through walls.¡±

    ¡°Re- er, Our Friend in the Tower told us that?¡±

    ¡°In the records he provided to Tia. Let''s go.¡±

    They jogged to the door, reaching it within a moment. It was closed. Lakyus halted directly in front of it, four of her weightless blades turning parallel to the ground. She leveled Killerenan, holding it out flat towards the door. Gagaran stood to the front-left of her companion, a formation they had standardized for assaults like this.

    ¡°On my mark.¡±

    Here we go.

    ¡°Mark.¡±

    Lakyus turned her sword on the axis of its blade, a low rumble that sharply bucked as foul energy broke from its tip. A black bolt arced between it and the door, turning the impact point to dust and scattering shards the rest. The blades shot through in a square pattern an instant later, Gagaran bolting through the wreck of the doorframe and entering the space at speed. She shot her head round, trying to designate her first target. The blades had embedded in the wall, catching no victims. There was no one standing in the foyer, two bodies splayed on the ground.

    ¡°There!¡±

    Gagaran had been marked first, her eyes shooting to the source of the shout. It came from a stout hallway in the back of the room, a man crouched over another with a chest wound. An azure stream flowing from a vial suddenly scattered as the man aiding his comrade shot upward, drawing his blade. Gagaran rushed, barreling through a chair. She raised her hammer, then hesitated.

    Shit! No room to swing in that space.

    She let the upward power in her swing die, letting the momentum level the hammer before arresting it. She charged, treating it as a lance as she ran flat out. The armed man stepped from the hallway, his blade humming with raw energy of warrior¡¯s-magic. The wounded man raised his hand, snapping his fingers and producing scattered motes of energy in the air.

    He¡¯s in cloth, a caster?!

    ¡°Heat Metal.¡±

    The head of her weapon swiftly shifted from its dull color to an ashen gray, then a low red. A jet of smoke shot from the binding, the ferrous wood of the shaft not able to bear the heat and igniting. Gagaran closed the gap, the magical assault doing nothing to bay her momentum. The armed man desperately tried to interpose his blade, swinging wildly at Gagaran¡¯s incoming strike.

    You¡¯re fucked.

    Her hammer struck his sword, a horrid sound emitting from the collision; metal being wrenched from itself, the sound of aura ramping. The head of her hammer suddenly blew apart, orange fragments scattering across the room. A cone of shrapnel blew backwards from the point of impact, showering him in the hot spew. A piece passed through his left eye, flash-boiling the fluid inside and causing a mix of blood and other biles of the body to spit from the wound. He dropped suddenly, his death instant. Gagaran caught a few, luckily only in glancing blows. What was left of the end of her weapon was a jagged chunk of scrap.

    What rotten luck is this?! Shit!

    Such was her prowess as a warrior that she did not stop her assault, and she thrust the smote end of her warhammer into the mage, who himself was desperately trying to right, skewering his stomach to the ground. It singed the edges of the wound, and had the vivisection been smaller, the heat of the metal would have cauterized it entirely. She dragged the rough edge through his body anyway, cutting a gash she was certain was lethal, and quickly withdrew its end from him. A warbling noise came to her ears, one she knew as the sound of Lakyus wrenching her blades from the wall.

    ¡°Status!¡±

    ¡°Weapon exploded.¡±

    Gagaran imagined that Lakyus would twitch at that response, but she had no time to look back to confirm. She spun the shaft round as she ran through the hall, testing its balance. It was poor, but she had the strength to handle it anyway.

    It¡¯ll work as a spear, for now at least. Chalk two up for tonight. Two more men, too.

    Satisfied for the moment, she broke to the right, entering the sitting space. Again there was no one, the flaming remnants of an overturned table threatening to catch other objects in the room. She could see straight through to the bedchambers of the king, a pair of men, one dressed in a low robe, another in plate. Both faced the same direction.

    ¡°Hey you sons of bitches!¡±

    Gagaran charged, carrying herself through the room and into Ramposa¡¯s private space swiftly. The close man twitched backward, trying to ready a defense. He did not achieve one in time, Gagaran thrusting the tip of her improvised spear straight through his neck. Keeping her speed, she lifted her leg and kicked before the mass of her could collide with her quarry, sending the man into his fellow. The pair of them fell to the ground, the slick knives of the man in the rear loosing from his hands and clattering on the exposed tile near the fringes of the room. Gagaran raised her weapon and let its wetting end dangle over the still-living man pinned under his comrade.

    No, wait.

    She gave it a half twirl, swinging the pummel round and striking the man in the side of the head. It bounced slightly against the range of his motion, before lying still. Gagaran looked up to see a triplet of men on the other side of the room, one armed and vigorous, two donned in finery, and all three wizened with age.

    ¡°Your Majesty, you¡¯re being rescued.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (21)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    ¡°In here! Hilman.¡±

    Keveleos flicked his hand as he spoke, his man nodding in response to the command. He ran forward to the door, one of the second floor drawing rooms on the flank of a lower reception hall. He swung the door open, Keveleos, his other two men, Renner, and Climb broaching the gap quickly. The six of them bid inwards, Climb following second to last.

    Could it have been? That the Gods would be on our side, by her side. Why am I asking? Of course they would.

    Climb swept his gaze. The space was well lit, expansive yet stout, filled with just shy of a score. About a dozen were finely dressed, many more of their retinues in tow; a cluster of maids in the corner nearest the door, wild and fearful looks in their eyes; another half dozen men at arms around a noble who was also armed, but not donned in armor. A swiftly cut scream as Climb entered the room, a noblewoman by the door taking fright at his entrance.

    Ah, I¡¯m still bearing my sword.

    Climb quickly turned, spinning his blade round to allow it to slip into his sheath. He spotted his wound again, having lost it in the course of events. The light in this space was bright enough that only now he understood the ruin of his side, the luminance conveying the true scale of the horror. Blood covered near his entire left side, fouling everything down to his left sabaton, where it slipped between the cleft of it and his greaves. The sense of wetness in his sock suddenly resolved, having been prior only an annoyance that had yet to breach a subconscious awareness.

    Oh. That¡¯s what scared her.

    Climb sheathed his sword, and looked up to see Renner standing nervously, her seeming unsure of what to do. She looked back to him, and gave him a weak smile. His heart jumped -  her confession still a fresh memory - and began to slip his way to her side.

    I suppose we¡¯re out of danger, at least for now.

    A stunning sense of relief came over Climb, nearly feeling fit to fall to the ground. He didn¡¯t, contenting himself with the lifting of his mental burden. There was still a little remaining, the pace of his heart yet to slow, its inertia delaying a total unencumbrance for a moment longer. Likewise to Climb, Keveleos made his way through the crowded space, though he aimed for the armed noble in the center of the room. He sidestepped a low slung table nestled between a number of chairs, all of which were occupied with nervous and jittery highbloods. Some were occupied double, a few women nestled in the laps of their husbands. Climb felt an odd twinge at the sight.

    ¡°Rochefort, I¡¯ve found the Princess.¡±

    ¡°Which of the three?¡±

    ¡°Her Highness Renner. I¡¯m unsure where Vena is, and Lulara isn¡¯t in attendance.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    Rochefort cast his gaze, quickly marking Renner from the pack of men that had just returned. His eyes shot to her side.

    I stained her dress when I took her from her bed, and when I walked her out. Unavoidable. Still, strange to think that¡¯s my blood.

    ¡°Good Gods, are you wounded, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°N-no. My¡­ um, my Adjutant Guard was¡­ um¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah, forgive me Your Highness!¡±

    Climb¡¯s left eye twitched. He rapped his fingers on the haft of his blade, the motion bringing him a mote of comfort.

    That¡¯s the second time tonight one of them has spoken completely inappropriately to her. Can¡¯t you see how distraught she is? Frustrating.

    A sense of pride began to well in Climb. He had marked Teloran as a threat, engaged him before he could set upon his mistress, and defeated him in a drawn out combat. He had retrieved her, had escorted her blade in hand, and now had delivered her to a safe haven entirely. He had always known a sense of protectiveness to his mistress, but he felt his duty had multiplied tenfold. Her confession and his first blood poured into his soul; their colors and tastes slurred into new hues he had not known before, crystalizing his prior sense of purpose not only as a cause of his but as his being itself. He felt little cause to kill it.

    It¡¯s like they never stop to think before speaking to her. Why? She¡¯s royalty. How can they forget too?

    ¡°Did you encounter any others?¡±

    ¡°Not of the family, no. The quarter-bearing wing of the third floor was empty. We didn¡¯t even encounter any of the Royal Guard, well, except¡­¡±

    Keveleos paused, letting his words draw off. He walked abreast to Rochefort, and pulled him in by his shoulder, his mouth nearly touching his fellow¡¯s ear. His lips moved, but no sound discernible to the rest of the room came out. Rochefort¡¯s face remained static. The room was dead silent. A nobleman in the corner continually caused his chair to creak, and unable to halt his fidgets, stood up lest he bear the embarrassment. The air lay thick, yet bore no warmth. The day had never seemed to reach its zenith, and this night, far from the temperate passions of summer, was disjoint in its coldness. It was hard to escape the presence of death.

    He¡¯s found dead men, hasn¡¯t he?

    Fourteen seconds passed, Keveleos neither pulling away, nor Rochefort emoting at all. Finally, Keveleos stopped and broke from Rochefort. That he had no cause to say anything in response meant the tension stayed, everyone unsure if or how words would come. Climb again looked to Renner, and to his surprise, she was ignoring the course of the Counts¡¯ conversation entirely. It faded quickly, her eyes clearly searching the room, presumably for a resting place.

    She doesn¡¯t want to think about this. I can¡¯t blame her. I don¡¯t want to either.

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    The room snapped, Rochefort finally broaching the suspense at those words. It was an odd sort of relief, but one everyone took too. Some began to return to their conversations - many just as hushed as they were prior -  but undoubtedly containing far more wicked things. Keveleos turned, and strangely enough, slipped back to Climb. Renner had drifted slightly, drawn into talk with a nearby noblewoman. He spoke in a low tone, the return of noise in the room masking his words to everyone else but the pair.

    ¡°Climb, your side seems ill-knit. My physician is in the other room, go and receive his care.¡±

    ¡°Count Keveleos, I cannot leave the side of-¡±

    ¡°Yes, you can.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I apologize for my curtness, it¡¯s just, I knew you would say something like that. There are six men here at arms, all of them knights. My men are better than the typical fodder to boot.¡±

    ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t protest. We haven¡¯t the time. This is what she would want if she knew to ask at the moment. Besides, you need to be in fighting shape, and by any measure, you aren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°...Right.¡±

    ¡°Good, I¡¯m going to depart to try and find his Majesty. Oh, and one last thing.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You did well.¡±

    Climb was suddenly struck by how kind Keveleos¡¯s face was. Keveleos¡¯s pirouetted in place, raising his left hand and snapping his fingers. His men came to attention. His words to Climb did not have time to hang in the air.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. Surely some others have attempted-¡±

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    The sudden interruption caught Keveleos off guard, and he seemed to stumble. It took a moment for those present to trace the words back to Rochefort, and another for them to process that he had spoken them. The faces of both men¡¯s retenues were caught in a similar confusion. Climb was in the company of all of them, neither understanding the purpose of the rejection nor cause for its character.

    ¡°What do you mean? We ought to try to find others in the company of their men. If we can, find and unite with the Palace or Royal Guard. Surely Jelka is still-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go. There¡¯s no need for you to put yourself at risk a second time.¡±

    ¡°That is valiant of you, but I¡¯ve already worked a safe path-¡±

    ¡°One I can remake.¡±

    The sound in the room died again. Climb felt completely lost, unable to track any of the course of the conversation. The silence stretched, increasingly pregnant.

    Ah, this has something to do with politics, doesn¡¯t it? Blazes. I have no clue what this could be.

    Only when he hit upon that vague supposition did he finally forgive himself for not understanding what was happening. Moments like this always necessitated seeking the knowledge of Renner, and he looked to her preconsciously. He was continually impressed by her ability to understand such happenings, and although he could not ask her now, he could at least try and glean the flavor of her thoughts from her face. Looking at her now yielded some of value, her drawing her mouth slightly to the side, displeasure seeming to rise through her. She seemed to sense him in the periphery, and for the second time, she cocked her head towards him. For a moment, he thought he spotted a twinkle in her eyes and a flutter of her mouth, before she returned her vision forward.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    She knows exactly what this is. I¡¯ll need to ask her later.

    ¡°Fine. Illura, accompany him and show him to the upper floors. Rochefort, leave two here as sentry. I want to leave those here in the company of no less than six.¡±

    ¡°Six? I count five.¡±

    ¡°Me and my two, your two, and the Princess¡¯s guard.¡±

    Rochefort turned his face to Climb, a half dismissive, half scornful look on his face. His eyes darted up and down Climb¡¯s form, and his visage froze. He jumped his vision to the princess, a strange look coming over his face. It took him a moment to speak his next words, and they came out stutter-step.

    ¡°Ah, well, six. Y-yes that¡¯s fine.¡±

    Rochefort twitched slightly, before turning to his men.

    ¡°Misel, Peyson, stay here. Everyone else, we¡¯re finding the King.¡±

    Wait, he was speaking of me.

    Climb had lagged behind, not realizing until now the insult Rochefort had just laced in his words. That he had not been counted as a defender. That Rochefort did not consider him a sentinel until he had been confronted with the literal blood of his efforts. Climb¡¯s mind stumbled over the jab, doubly so over the reversal, both of which had occurred completely out of time with his awareness. The righteous satisfaction in knowing that he had been designated six lost all meaning in the face of that, and he was gripped anew by old knowledge of his. He was truly her crusader, possessing a loyalty that ran deeper and hotter than honor; but there in the depths, far below the ground upon which she stood, he would peak. There he would languish.

    ¡°We¡¯re departing.¡±

    ¡°Godsspeed.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes Godsspeed.¡±

    ¡°Gods guide and protect you!¡±

    ¡°Good fortune to you!¡±

    A chorus of well wishes burst from those higher blooded in the room, as well as some of the maids, many being completely enthralled by the events of the evening. Some of the knights gave appreciative nods to their comrades in arms, some bearing stoic looks on their faces. Climb was not among them. He opened his mouth, yet found no words. He felt hollow, a growing exhaustion in his soul, his emotions beginning to burn dimmer. Had he the time and place, he would let himself cry. But that was only a desire, and one he had no ability to fulfill in the moment.

    ¡°I bid you well. Please find my siblings and father, I cannot bear for them to stay unseen!¡±

    Renner¡¯s cry wrenched Climb, a deep anguish in her voice that seemed to punctuate everything prior. It wrenched at others too, bearing forth the severity of the evening. Her eyes wet again, and she brought her hand up to shield her mouth.

    She does care for Barbro. She cares for him deeply.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness, we will. I swear to you.¡±

    Rochefort genuflected, and with some sense of duty on display, managed to reclaim a little of Climb¡¯s respect. He turned and flicked his hand to his men. They all departed for the hall, opening, scouting, and slipping out the entrance carefully. The last man to leave was Knight Illura, and he closed the door softly behind him. Renner came back to Climb, her hand still to her mouth; moreover, she avoided his gaze.

    ¡°Climb?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Did I hear correctly that Lord Keveleos bid you to attend his physician?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    Her eyes darted back and forth along the ground, noises from her fading from her. Climb swallowed, realizing that she was hesitating to assent the recommendation.

    She¡¯s afraid of me leaving her side¡­ That¡¯s horrible.

    She gave a pained exhale, and seemed to rally herself.

    ¡°Attend Lord Keveleos¡¯s physician.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, Your Highness.¡±

    Climb, now that his mistress¡¯s desires were no longer a supposition of the count - but rather something she had said explicitly - felt spurned to act. He gave a stout bow from instinct, swiftly regretting it as his side cut itself a little deeper. Blood broke the skin, some of the wounds adjacent to the embedded shrapnel reopening. He cut it short, looking up in time to catch her face twitching. Her countenance twisted to one of regret as she spied the damage his bow had caused.

    That really hurts¡­

    ¡°Climb, I did not mean to bid you to injury! I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°My mistake, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°But- I-¡±

    ¡°I promise, Your Highness. Please, don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡±

    Her tone made it clear she was still very much so worrying about it, but Climb knew convincing her otherwise was a battle he could not win. He turned, trying to remember the door Keveleos had indicated his physician, then remembering that he had never been given specifics. There were two doors on the west wall of the room, and those being the only two besides the entrance, he felt it safe to guess the one to his dexter. He began to walk, and by the fifth step, began to feel an overwhelming anxiety. By the tenth, he could not stop himself from turning back. He paused, and turned, seeing his mistress engaged with the count, who now seemed totally robbed of his initiative. She had seemed to recover in the interim of his walk, managing to loosen her stance and engage in actual conversation. Sans evidence of the extenuating circumstances that led them there - her dress stained along with the rest of her appearance completely unkempt - there seemed to be nothing amiss.

    This is the farthest I¡¯ve been from her since I took her from bed. She¡­ she¡¯s safe.

    Climb let out a subtle exhale, unheard by anyone else in the room. The last vestiges of his fear faded, and though he knew in the back of his mind that Barbro was still unaccounted for, all he could claim too now was an exhaustion and an emptiness. He turned forward, and continued, opening the door. He had guessed correctly, the sight of a man dressed in a bloody smock coming into view, seeming to be at a degree of rest. The space was small, barely four paces across, its depth even shallower; a small room designed for one on one conversations. Climb entered fully, catching a woman - at inspection a maid - with a bloodied shoulder sitting on a repurposed table in its center. Whatever wound she had suffered was sealed, a red tipped crossbow bolt lying on a nearby stand.

    ¡°Luck of the Greed Kings is with you. The poison on that would have been enough to take down a beastman twice your size.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°Mm, count it as your good fortune, or otherwise. Whatever you mark it as, you¡¯re alive. The pain¡¯s gone?¡±

    ¡°Not yet?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bulk flesh at the sight of the fissure; it should break down within a few hours. If not, come back and I¡¯ll give you an autocentesic.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    The maid slipped off the table, eyes widening at the appearance of Climb. He realized then that she was one he knew, maid El¡¯ya. Their last interaction had been notably negative, a suspiciously timed stumble of hers knocking away a basket of flowers he had retrieved for his mistress. She hadn¡¯t apologized, practically bolting down the hallway they were in without saying a word, Climb left to pick up the scattered buds Renner had foraged from the garden. It was an incident he had taken in stride, and although he would not admit it to himself, he now felt a small sense of comeuppance over her by triggering such a reaction in here now. She left the room hastily, the man cleaning his tools with a scrap of tablecloth. He looked up, spied Climb¡¯s side, and gave a weak twitch of his dexter hand towards the table.

    ¡°Doff your plate and undershirt. Sit too.¡±

    Climb hesitated for a moment, drawing a scornful look from the physician. He looked ready to tell Climb off when he finally complied, not wanting to draw the ire of the man who would be pulling shrapnel from his side. He worked in the typical order, removing his gauntlets, the armor of his arms, and his chestplate. That he did slowly, doing his best to avoid any further injury. With that done, he worked off the rest of his gear, removing his shirt last. He drew himself up onto the table wordlessly, not hopping up as he was wont to, unwilling to provoke the tenderness of his side. He got a closer look at the physician¡¯s equipment as it was being cleaned, a mix of bespoke medical instruments and presumably improvised edges, including a soiled kitchen knife. The physician dipped his hands into a washbowl and flicked them dry, before coming to inspect Climb. His face pulled taut.

    ¡°Your armor was blown through?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, I think.¡±

    ¡°Breathe slow- ah, forgive me.¡±

    Climb¡¯s pace had never accelerated since he slowed it earlier, the rhythm bringing him a mote of comfort. The physician pulled in close to the wound, gently setting his hands on Climb¡¯s side. He pulled the flesh slightly, watching it shift and tighten, but never directly prodding the fissured or protruding metal.

    ¡°You kept downing potions, good. Alchemically Induced Anphiseophlostogenisis is just a myth.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh¡­¡±

    ¡°?therlytic marking, cisangymic flow from the looks of it¡­ you use martial arts?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡±

    I have no clue what he¡¯s saying. That alchemy thing must have been what Haylor spoke about. I guess it wasn¡¯t true?

    The physician offered no explanations, continuing his inspection in silence. Climb began to feel awkward; they had never exchanged names.

    I don¡¯t even know if he is a ¡°sir¡±. That¡¯s just what the maid called him. He¡¯s probably not. I don¡¯t know any knight-doctors. Do those even exist? No, that smock of his; makes him look like he trained in the theocracy. What¡¯s the word they use? ¡°Isa¡±? ¡°Isha¡±? Something like that. They have their own¡­ uh, form of address too I think.

    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding internally. Some of the new skin is warped. You exerted this after you downed a potion?¡±

    ¡°You mean like fighting, sir?¡±

    ¡°Yes- You fought through this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°How bad is the pain?¡±

    ¡°It hurts, sir.¡±

    ¡°Possible some of these shards have gotten under your rib cage. This might take some time.¡±

    ¡°Alright, sir.¡±

    ¡°Anything else before we get started?¡±

    ¡°My right shoulder, sir.¡±

    ¡°Let me take a look.¡±

    The physician, still unnamed, moved his gaze to Climb¡¯s shoulder. He immediately bucked his head back, muttering to himself.

    ¡°...and here I was thinking the ?therlysis on the abdomen was bad.¡±

    ¡°Is it ok, sir?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Yes, it¡¯s fine. You just poured a lot of power through here. After you downed your first potion, you heard a sucking sound, right?¡±

    Actually, yeah, I did.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Looks like you dislocated it. Potion pulled it back into place. Still, I wouldn¡¯t use it these next few days if you could avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡°Y¡¯know, with that much energy running through it, I¡¯d hazard that you didn¡¯t even lose any cutting power.¡±

    ¡°You think so, sir?¡±

    ¡°I do. You probably extended your reach a fingerlength. You must have swung hard enough to pull it out of the socket. Between this and your side, you seem like a damn dedicated fighter, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°...A fingerlength, sir?¡±

    Climb was caught completely off guard, and it took him a few moments to process the true meaning of the physician¡¯s words. He had already accepted his victory as a gift from on-high. That it was not, but rather something he had seized entirely himself was not something he was prepared to admit. He felt his heart skip a beat.

    ¡°Something like that. That''s surprising?¡±

    ¡°No, sir.¡±

    He chuckled slightly.

    ¡°All things well to be, let¡¯s get those fragments out of you.¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (22)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    I¡¯ve made a severe mistake; no, several severe mistakes. This string of errors may bring me to my end swiftly. Letting myself get dragged along by Keveleos like a pauper dashed under the wheels of a hauler. By the will of the dice, what possible chance of encountering him there!? No, none of it was ill-fate. It was a complete failure of mine. I managed to avoid both the standard and heightened patrol paths, and yet I didn¡¯t think others would be? What a fool you are Chardelon! Never in your life have you taken such a mindless course of action. One with the most grievous possible consequences. You ought to be slung from the gallows for this! I¡¯m in waters completely detached from any reckoning or sense.

    ¡°So you¡¯ll think he¡¯ll take a victory next spring, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure of it. He¡¯s gotten quite good. Quite a shame he can¡¯t contend in higher orders though.¡±

    By coming here, I¡¯ve thrown away most of my options. If I exit now, it shows that I know that Barbro is after my life; in due course, a sword will lie at the flank of my neck, akin to just as before. Now I¡¯m forced to engage in the most petty kind of talk to maintain my image, unable to advance anything. I am at the whims of this crowd, of those that surround me, and I am in total unable to dredge any progress in the mire. Petty pulls of his strings nets me nothing, acquiring no true initiative in the advent, neither in the matters of mortality nor regality. Here I am, working the bellows in the depths of a young and feckless face that has gazed upon something it should not have, and suffered the result in frustrating tepidity. I am out tools, I am out leverage.

    ¡°You believe so? I imagine many of those men are perhaps more grizzled to the sport than he, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Even if so, I still wish he had the opportunity to try.¡±

    I am not only out leverage, I have thrown it out. Had I screamed and run, Climb would have followed in tow. Even if they had done likewise, I could have slipped through the third secret passage and been quite literally afield of Valencia. Who knows what we could do next. Run? It would be a true flight. Once more I connive to ruin myself, but there ought not to be a lossless escape from this night. Not at this rate, anyway. Climb is no longer by my side, but could I have done anything else? Those around us seem to think he¡¯s in a state incapable of combat, but to bid him away is something else entirely. It''s my only course. Perhaps Father is already lost in the past. Wait, I¡¯ve leapt past something. The third ¡®scape. The third passage of seven on this floor. The congruity again.

    ¡°Ah, forgive me, Your Highness. I catch your meaning now. You think he would enjoy it?¡±

    Her mind ground to a halt. Renner¡¯s anger paused itself, leaving nothing spinning in her soul but the foul residue of spent emotion. Her conversation with the count whose untimely intervention had so vexed her seemed to fade away. She lost her presence in the world entirely, her undonned feet lifting from the ground as everything around her slipped into the unlit glare of the color when no attention could be drawn. She was beginning to feel unnerved.

    That¡¯s¡­ four times tonight. Four times I¡¯ve marked those two numbers as a pair. Never reversed, never in any other order of coming. As if there is a cause to it.

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    As if. As if many others haven¡¯t met the same numbers tonight, and as I have not different ones. Ah! In addition to achieving the vaunted status of dullard, I¡¯m slipping to outright delusion as well. What a wonderful fate! I am a woman made of plaster; hollow, substanceless, and in every way fragile. What¡¯s next? A loonish galavant through the halls bare? It''s certainly unbecoming of Princess Renner, but of I? It is a thing befit to me as if etched in the stars themselves. I suppose it''s best that this final breaking of my form happens this night! At least this way, my brother now has actual cause for his acts. Who can object to him taking a sick little girl and burying her?!

    ¡°Are you ok, Your Highness?¡±

    Renner wanted to scream, not the ones she had issued from earlier fright or from petty deception, but one born from an absolute and true rage. This was too much to suppress, her visage never truly put together. It manifested as a shudder in her form, her face twisting into a more anguished look.

    I cannot let myself slip into disorder. I refuse to, not in the wake of a rally. If I am to hate, then I am to hate my enemies. If I am to hate, I am to hate what is vile, what is wretched. I am to hate him. I am to hate King Andrean. I am going to hate him. I am going to wrack you, brother-dearest.

    ¡°Your Highness, perhaps we get you to a side room.¡±

    Renner had the wherewithal to nod, but this was instinct alone, not an intentionally constructed behavior of hers; a low reversion to a simple protective act.

    So it shall be, ordo ex anathema. I turn the mill again - round and round evermore - it is time to process. Significant violence tonight, not hard to guess at the words those Counts shared. Everyone else seemed to, at least. Death and death and death again, and perhaps a little more at the flank of reason. Rochefort is jockeying for face. A play made blatantly, too. Actively denying Keveleos at rescuing a second of the royal family is completely unsubtle. At least he had the wherewithal to use my theater to his advantage. Though, perhaps tonight is a night to drop blades in favor of bludgeons. Even the most kegborn of moves here is correct. If your men waylay an innocent - which has undoubtedly already occurred - you may simply claim panic as cover. Doubly, you may believe it. The honest men of the Kingdom will know motes of rot tonight, blemishes on porcelain souls fired ever so delicate, alabaster, and useless. Inaction is the worst possible move.

    Keveleos took a tentative step in the direction of the side room Climb had not entered. Renner let herself be drawn, the last of her thoughts ringing to and fro inside her mind. Keveleos, seeing the Princess following his request, took further steps. Renner brought herself along with him, keeping her head low and eyes watered; this was half an act, a third genuine turmoil, and a sixth wanting to shield her eyes from the stabbings of candle flame. Though her cropsickness waned from its previous zenith, even the sub-brilliant made her wish to slink into the dark.

    A new everpresent warning to myself, halts are to be harked and harangued. My shell is intact; my ire aids to that end. To the point of appearances in general, the wise will wear their stains, not claiming a nocturn glory, but of terrible loss. It is better to come unto the dawn vivisected, not victorious; at least in the sense that points can be twisted finer into the enemy. Those with societal acumen will know this. The best will do both. It will perhaps be a scorecard of opinions here. Of course, those actually damaged will know their scars lit by the light of the sun, though it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to stake forward-creeping goals regardless. Again, honest men know the best of this; they¡¯ll catch benefit in droves, and do it none-the-wiser. I should net myself some advancements, if father still lives, that is. Everything frays beyond that point. If I spring aloft, will it be a glide overtop the thickly-inked lines of cartography?

    Keveleos reached the door and opened it for her, holding it ajar as she passed through. This was a second, smaller sitting space. It was unlit, the window on the flank doing little to illuminate the room. It peered into the night, and Renner found her gaze drawn to it. This was no true fascination, simply a place to rest her vision. Keveleos hesitated on shutting the door, not wishing to stop the intrusion of the light of the outer space.

    It depends on his willingness to persecute my death. Does he possess a madness of composure or of sense? Not ¡°or,¡± neither ¡°nor,¡± but ¡°and.¡± That answer requires no soothsaying, my contemporaries in blood will find without difficulty. Ah, the murder of me - be it a verily-held maladiction or a classical madness - will see his name listed under liabilities on the ledgers of his allies. Of which, I will need to investigate the grip of that polydactylic hand on the present nadier, and construct a list of who¡¯s and why¡¯s. I am distracted, there is a thread to spin prior. The case of flight. Perhaps I find cause and love among the people. Would they help? Most certainly, I am a¡­ ah what¡¯s the term. A ¡°popular¡± princess? Strange phrasing, but it''s true. I am, in a way, of them; my mask is one that bears forth word of their needs to the court and courtiers. I ought to find a true base, a foundation to slip under and huddle in. Would they be of help? Uncertain. The huntress digits would be two, and in their extension, account for many.

    Keveleos produced a flame in his hands, something born of an object in his hands. Renner didn¡¯t have the willingness to care for the details, though that he bore it on his person at all hung in the rear of her perception - that he would spring a light himself. Another point of efficacy in his column.

    Would there be two? Can the agents of Assassination and Security work in tandem? A fissure, but betwixt whom?! Evileye, if I die tonight, may I curse your name eternally from the depths for so holding those gates of yours shut. She mentioned that Banking¡¯s head was killed, shame we can¡¯t pin a name to him. Still, if the basis for that was breaking faith with divisional heads, the only reasonable act is decapitation and substitution of the neck up. If my brother is an illfit copy of our father, perhaps there is disorder there too. ¡°Reformist and Traditionalist,¡± what a turn of phrase. To catch progression as the fault line. Another strange twist to throw on the pile. Soon I may sweep the lot of them onto the street, pack them down with all the unspent stomps I have brimming in my form, and use it as pavement. Maybe then my brother¡¯s men will run me down in horse-drawn carriage, rather than stagnating in the quagmires of a rainstorm. In that, true luster can be named.

    Renner stifled a laugh, killing it in her gullet before it could escape into the room, emitting only its ghost in the form of a sigh. Light in hand, Keveleos shut the door and lit a candle affixed to the wall. It did not truly puncture the dark, though she felt compelled to give a little response.

    ¡°Count?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Could I bid you to keep us in the dimness? I am of a cropsickness.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. Do you wish-¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to extinguish it, I just have taken my fill of flame already.¡±

    Then, the side of progress, and the side of stagnancy. Banking¡¯s only credible threat would be Narcotics. They perhaps catalyzed this change. How not? Power to rip institutions custom from custom could only belong to them. Slavery almost entirely in that tiding, too weak by my hand to do anything but sink into the depravities of dustborn euphoria. That drags along Gambling, that pair runs too flush. Actually, it may have been they who leapt first into his arms. Ah, no, her. There is that oft recounted story among the enforcers that their leader is a woman.

    Renner worked her way to a seat facing the door, setting down with a typical fanfare. Tugging her dress slightly to do so, she realized the depth of fouling. Doubly so for her appearance. Her hands went to her sides, realizing she bore no tools for its maintenance.

    My hand mirror. In my room still. Shame.

    Renner began to brush her hair lightly, detangling what hair she could with her fingers. This was not an easy process, many threads caught in knots and other loops. With steady pace, she worked it, pulling a few of the larger twists free.

    Who else is lost to the haze of Laira dens? Who isn¡¯t? Most certainly the pinnacle himself. There was no news of an end brought to that baleful capstone. Who passed contracts to whom? Assassination and Security seem to run affowl of eachother¡¯s demenses. Both know their trade only as wetwork that only differ in the details. Not enough so for that head of gambling, ¡°P.B.¡±, though, he seemed content to interchange tasks between them. Those initials are suspect; they had the gall to shift Barbro¡¯s name by one case and call it encryption, then I find it likely the leader contented himself with a weak obsurant over his own. Would have been swifter and stronger to make a fake wholly. Assuming foolishness in that, its signs bleed to other things. Requests for Assassination dwindled near the end of the stolen period, an unsubtle icing-out. Thus, I may count Security as the arm of the Reformists, and Assassination in turn for Tradition.

    Keveleos spotted her attempts at self grooming and started. He swiftly broke back to her side, having been fussing with an object on his person Renner did not distinguish. She felt his discomfort pointedly, pouring over into his voice with little regard to its shielding.

    ¡°Your Highness, do you want a comb?¡±

    ¡°That would be wonderful, thank you.¡±

    Par-half left unaccounted for, but Slavery has likely been shattered beyond consequence, and who can speak of efficacy in Larceny or Smuggling with a planed tone? There is a critical observation here; Assassination and Security stand at odds. The question then becomes simple. My brother is in league with Gambling, Gambling is in league with Security, Security is opposed to Assassination; an act of advancement for an Andrean must surely be opposed by the other side. The murder of a king is not a thing that comes without many hands - Gazef¡¯s very existence compounds the problem tenfold. The chance of this slipping under the notice of their other kin is laughable; their rivalry is being played out here and now in the palace. Violence has not only snapped into being between gallant knight and wicked skulk, but between every stroke of the sickle-born themselves, and not only those bound by vital contract.

    Keveleos fished his pockets for a moment, snatching one from his flank. He took a moment to remove stray hairs of his from it, and spared another for inspection, before handing it over to her. She took it with little ceremony, feeling that she could play at herself a twip straighter. She began to work on her hair, pulling free a knot that had eluded dissociation. Seemingly satisfied, Keveleos took a few steps and sat down across from her, interposed between her and the exit. Renner kept her face static, doing her best to quell her growing curiosity in his actions.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Why are you making your vigilance here, and not dedicating one of your men? Ought not those adjoint this room to see your presence? Perhaps a better impression on my father, but surely the third princess deserves not such material dedication in a time such as this. Ah Alec, you¡¯ve run flush too and overflew every line I¡¯ve marked in the dirt, haven¡¯t you? That little play with Rochefort¡¯s ear, clearly implying the presence of Surshana¡¯s take without saying it explicitly; a low proclamation of great acts without those around us having the wherewithal to spot your dishonesty. You¡¯re vulpine, but I¡¯m absent a grander description of you. I did mark you as being in the company of that syndicate earlier - no other way to make sense of your attempted acquisition of an Aindra¡¯s aid - though there¡¯s so much left unfixed.

    Obviously having men at arms is not suspect at a general council. Still, to come to the third floor and try and rescue the Royals silver-a-bundle is certainly a-

    Renner¡¯s mind touched upon a seam, something she had missed in the earlier part of the eve. She realized her meeting with Keveleos in the corridor was not simply her mistake. That there were inconsistencies and knots in its make.

    Wait, that junction there, why did he turn round? Why not push forth and seize greater victories in my brothers, or father? Was it a tactical determination? For it to be, he must not think himself capable of such penetrative power as required with me in tow; but Climb was by my side. His vitality was capable enough to let him continue as bulwark and battle-fiend, that satisfies the need for my protection. Surely he anticipated being able to push through to my father, unless why ascend at all? Such an act only figures if this was a coordinated act in which we were snatched from the jaws of our assailants, in which victories were won piece by piece, but that entire line of action falls apart when you consider that we were brought to the company of disordered men. He went for me first. He was satisfied with retrieving me and only me.

    Renner¡¯s thoughts seized and shuddered, and she sensed that she had found the threat that would unravel the entire tapestry that had woven in her mind. She became confident that she would weave it anew.

    Why? Why not save Zanac, why not save father? He came to the quarter-bearing wing with me in mind. He¡¯s treating me as an asset, though the acts that transmuted me in the eyes of commoners, and gilded me in the eyes of nobility certainly run afoul of Eight Fingers. I did after all, persecute a campaign against slavery and Slavery, though I did the latter without- No, not afoul of Eight Fingers, for there is no unified hand, but of the Reformists.

    Earlier qualia of shock swiftly faded, an overwhelming sensation of cold cutting through her previous buck. Her thoughts began to collaless into a grander understanding, weaving them thread by thread into a new embroidery.

    That rivalry is finding itself not only played across the floors of Valencia in general, but in the walls of this very room. Count, you have clicked into place. You number among the Traditionalist divisions. You support my actions planely because I place pressure on your enemies. You number high among the Traditionalist divisions. You came to this council prepared for violence. You number wise among Traditionalist divisions. You came to seek defenders through me, knowing I could bear your request without risk to you. Extraordinarily desperate, yet you had total foreknowledge that an Adamantite team would be the only thing for your needs.

    In a simple sense, he was serving to safeguard his assets, of which I am one. He was forced to this play by the coming death of my father. I am a tool, and the continued survival of The Golden Princess is something that can be used as a leverage against the return of the slave trade. I am not blunt, but a pointed tip that can be used to jab the eye of his rival. Though, he likely did not expect to see a threat come to my person directly. Seeing Climb injured, and I steeped in his blood, seemed to leave him non-linear.

    Who gains what from this? Bolloupe or Lytton attains a near total victory in their realm, a complete subordination of their puppet. I feel it is likely Bolloupe as gamemaster, though I cannot say for certain, and would not hazard it now. Irrespective of the identity of the actual schemers, that whole political flank benefits as a body. This is to be felt to the foundations of the land, well, of the nobility. Many of all strata will suffer. Broader truths reveal themselves in the wake of its coming, whoever takes what bounties.

    Then, to the matter of Baharuth. Their actions are known. The conspirators predict a swift war in the east, one that will begin to take form immediately after the sun burns off the dews tomorrow. This can rally and direct the anger of the people to threats foriegn. So the story will be that hands from Arwintar arranged Father¡¯s end. Do they expect to win? Doubtful they would, El-Nix would make his the height of his might known. Legions to come crawling across the plains with every manner and method of siegecraft; weapons and arcanists to make their place in the lore. Ceed E-Rantel? If that¡¯s the only concession required, yes.

    There will be another war. Flares across the nation. Factions are soon to shift; both will choose to proclaim theirs as the true King. Andrean will be marked a new Royalty faction, a twisted mirror of the old; Valleon the new counterbalance. Bolloupe and Lytton against the rest. The rest that can stand in the first place, that is. Blumrush can simply be paid to that course, and if Jircniv is as cunning as I suspect he to be, I doubt that money will need to come from the war coffers of our marquis. Urovana will become mired in his own demesne, Theiern need to be kept for domestic cause. Urovana will be hollowed out by that man¡¯s rage, a structure fit to collapse. Vellen will not break faith with Vaiself, his men will stay by Barbro. Other lords are perhaps less consequential; Helgrave would stand by what remains of the old Royalty. Raeven is the dark horse, and will side with Pespea, but they will stand two against two, or perhaps three. Re-Estize is to grind itself to bits.

    Dates? The fourth of the middle wind was when Brother made his departure, he made his scheme in that window of time. The twenty-eighth of the same was his return. In that time, he met with those who lord over the Sunlit Scripture, Bajan, and Harlink. They scoped and marked the villages of Usamsara, Delkirk, Carne - and likely the next in sequence, Rellenue - and they prepared the messages necessary to be sent later at the time of the plot on Gazef. Other things, the changing of money; my name given as promise to Harlink. Barbro returns, Jonque in tow, as well as others. Ah, if only I had thought to mark the rest of his retenue at the time. My gatherings have been slipshod.

    What of the sword? Was it given freely to brother-dearest by Slane as assurance, or maybe a way to back his claims of combat with the Empire? If he knew, then what a laced gift that was to father. Intentional, or without bated meaning? Barbro, description of you eludes me. If I had your lifeless body and a scalpel, I would make a thorough investigation. Maybe then I could divine what you are. A matter, but one I am of no capacity to sleuth.

    She had unwittingly burrowed her face in her hands, even the meek light of the candle flame too much to bear for her headache. She looked up, and saw little had changed. Keveleos, for his part, had remained in his seat. He had leaned forward, fiddling with his hands. If he had done anything, there was no evidence of its coming. That he had remained so unmoved as the woman across from him laid him bare in her mind was something that Renner found perfectly in keeping with the way of the world, but none-the-less dryly humorous.

    In order, then. Lytton, Bolloupe, or both make the decision to fabricate a king from my brother. They court him, promise him the throne, and their support in the turmoil after its seizure. They court allies: Eight Fingers and Slane¡¯s underhands. From Eight Fingers, they wrench the murder of my father. From Slane, the murder of Gazef. Barbro secures Bajan and Harlink, and stages the borderlands for violence. Both in money, and in my hand. Slane assures him, hands off a blade as their word. They let things brew, pieces moved into place. Then, the days of violence. The pair are run through, first Gazef in the hinterlands, then my father in the wake of those events. Barbro ascends to a paper crown, a boy haloed by it a second time in sequence. Zanac slips into obscurity, the rest of the Royal faction fractures. The Kingdom falls into a degenerate state, House Vaiself robbed of all providence and agency, with a Nobility that has secured complete hegemony.

    It would have worked cleanly, but the luck of the Greed Kings kept Gazef from his death at Carne. Everything slipped. Coin had already changed hands, but to attempt with the Warrior-Captain no further to the grave is risky. To still chance against him means they have a way to separate, disable, or destroy him. Barbro had Teloran come for my head, so he was certain this had already happened.

    They may still snatch victory, or they may already have. To think my brother could now be sitting on the throne is disquieting. Exiting the city is the only option. The east gate has had its chief replaced, but he is also an Eight Fingers man; it should be possible to secure logeless passage. I must make my leave and do so with haste, but Climb is in the care of a physician. He must be borne away at my side. I refuse to leave my puppy behind in a flaming house. He is an ultimate cause, an ultimate goal; he is mine and he will remain mine as long as I live. I will keep him. Teloran¡¯s work on him was thorough, and I cannot drag him with me until he is mended. Climb is absolute.

    ¡°Count Keveleos?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    Thus, I act to gain passage, and to land a retaliation on my brother.

    ¡°Do you think we will need to secure an egress?¡±

    ¡°Of the palace?! No, of course not, your-¡±

    I need a face. I haven¡¯t had one prepared for such a novel circumstance, I never expected to be sitting across from one of the syndicate men. The one I use for Lakyus? It¡¯ll have to do.

    ¡°Ah, I apologize, Count, my words were unclear.¡±

    ¡°No, not at all, Your Highness, though I¡¯m still unsure-¡±

    Let me cut through these words, strike a concession from you. If I am to flee, I am to leave with a parting blow. One to wrench a little more coin from your hands brother.

    ¡°Re-Estize is burning.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°House Vaiself too.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness. I don¡¯t believe I understand-¡±

    ¡°We both know the comings of tonight.¡±

    ¡°I would not be so dour, this disturbance is only temporary, things will return to a safe procession-¡±

    ¡°So I ask of you a task.¡±

    ¡°A task? Of course. What is it, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Halt the payments to my brother, and as long as they remain stopped, Lady Aindra will only strike Narcotics, Gambling, and Slavery.¡±

    Keveleos face twisted into confusion, and then after a moment, turned solemn. His hands, him having continually rubbed them clasped, ceased to move. The room was robbed of noise, only faded and distorted chatter of the nobility ebbed in through the door. The character of his eyes changed entirely, the worry borne in them cooling into what seemed to be a cold anger. Nine seconds passed, the flickering shadow of the room returning to a stillness as the lone flame was freed from the battering of air. He stayed silent, finally closing his mouth. He blinked once, then two times in sequence. When it became clear he would not respond, Renner let herself continue.

    ¡°Release my Climb to me, and he and I are to immolate ourselves in the blaze. We¡¯ll alight on the billows of smoke, curl into the night, and by the dawn, have been blown free by the winds. Do you accept, Counselor?¡±

    Keveleos was stock-still, his visage frozen in its previous state. A following fourteen seconds passed, before he finally gained any of dynamism back. He drew back into his chair, turning his head to look out the window. His eyes remained unmoving, not seeming to trace a path across the stars, merely gazing into the darkness. Renner struggled to keep herself in a similar state, gaze fixed on him. Her heart pounded, her entire body running flush.

    The dimness of the umbra is protective; the black of thickly-bodied fumes shield me, else I fear he might turn back and crack the bulwark of my mind. I must rend his confidence. I must present myself as antithetical to his goals if he does not bend to ascent to my offer. Of any wall of Valencia, he is the only one I am capable of tearing through. Ah, you are my only chance here. I can leave Barbro with a wound here. The payments flit from the new-hands. Then, forcing the halt of them has two outcomes. One, divisional war. No matter. Their death and violence will barely be noticed over the din of battle between houses upright. Any blood they spill will simply serve to add to the mere, the flow only remarked as another trickle from the fonts of Baharuth¡¯s and Bolloupe¡¯s reap. A war in triplicate, or rather, one besetting two. Two, a false peace, though I doubt it would hold. Keveleos, you draw the moment out. Free me.

    Keveleos¡¯s mouth fluttered, then opened. He had found his words.

    ¡°Do you bear other terms?¡±

    ¡°No. What I spoke was the extent.¡±

    ¡°Concessions?¡±

    ¡°No others.¡±

    Keveleos halted again. Renner¡¯s anxieties increased, her body tensing.

    Come, grant me what I need. I beseech you. Was what I said not compelling enough? Have I not given you a clear path to wreak havoc upon your enemies? Think of the relief this brings you, the relief it brings your allies. You and your ilk are to save fortunes because of this.

    ¡°I accept. I¡¯ll end them, and get you your passage to the dawn. Your adjutant will be ready soon; when he¡¯s ready, I¡¯ll bid you out, and escort you away. Can he ride?¡±

    ¡°Did not we just speak of his talents at the joust?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but can he ride and maintain it to¡­ wherever you go?¡±

    ¡°I have no doubt in his abilities, Count.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­ Fine, I¡¯ll give you a horse, too. He¡¯ll carry you well¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Counselor.¡±

    ¡°Why do you do this? Why collaborate with an Aindra to wage a campaign like that?¡±

    Renner was caught wrongfooted, and she paused. It had never occurred to her to pin a ¡°why¡± to her actions, and now that it was questioned, could find no response.

    Ah. I should have anticipated such a query on cause. Something simple, then? ¡°For the good of the people¡± or something to that effect. No, he surely has heard that before from those he¡¯s trusted more, and would doubt them doubly if they came from me. I have already played my hand as one who hides behind the face of a dullard, a layered being. I have no earthly, or for that matter, heavenly idea what to say. Do I speak of true things? Do I speak of desire Climb, my darling puppy-dog? No, if I do so wantonly, that only turns more of my position to sand. If he knows my¡­ feelings, for Climb, that sows only the seeds of dissent. Verity in obfuscation, I mention him not, but what desires he wells in me. Then that is an easy thing to say.

    ¡°Hunger.¡±

    A moment of stasis, Keveleos breaking it with a shudder. Before Renner could comprehend his reaction, he gave the Sign of the Clearwater.

    Why did he sign? Was there cause for it in my words?

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when he¡¯s ready.¡±

    I must have missed a base point of conduct. Frustrating, this conversation had worked entirely to my gain up too¡­ whatever mistake I made. Something to consolidate this before things slip away, then.

    ¡°Thank you for your understanding, Counselor.¡±

    Keveleos seemed to jump from his seat, standing swiftly and with little of the tact he had displayed earlier.

    Did I let my mask slip? If it did, I didn¡¯t sense it. Almost certainly not. I was able to make that judgment earlier, even through the dual fog of sleep and drink, so my surety in this statement is bolstered two-fold.

    Keveleos broke for the door without looking back to her. Upon reaching it, he turned the handle and pulled it ajar. Renner, expecting him to say a farewell, stayed bated. To her surprise, he walked out the room, closing the door without saying a word. Those she had primed died in her mouth, and she was left with an odd sense.

    Is he¡­ afraid?¡±

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (23)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    The King is safe. The worst of it is through.

    Lakyus swept her gaze across the floor, tallying the take of the evening. There were four bodies total in his Majesty¡¯s room, another cluster in the foyer to the entrance. The robed men were easy to identify, but the rest blurred. The King, the Margrave, and the senior-most member of the Palace Guard were still huddled in the corner, unwilling to take any step away from what they perceived as safety.

    Most every combatant was in full-plate armor. Hard to distinguish the assassins from the Royal Guard. They came in disguise, that''s¡­ Gods, how much money is that?

    Lakyus was suddenly struck by the scale of this event, recalling the slack words of their prisoner. After his proclamation that an attempt to kill the King was in the works, he had described the actions taken inside their organization in preparation. That he had gotten confirmation from his superiors that there was action to take place in Re-Estize, that the most exalted force of Security was tied up and that he had been shuffled as a result, and that his Majesty was to be killed.

    ¡°Men were shifted to the capital two weeks prior.¡± This was months in coming, wasn¡¯t it? That they would think to tie us up with payment to Unglaus¡¯s force. They sought to control every variable, didn¡¯t they? I need council with Renner, present her with everything we know, she¡¯ll make sense of it.

    ¡°Gagaran, your count?¡±

    ¡°One on the stairs, the two in the hall, and then the three in here boss. Er, four if you count the prisoner.¡±

    Evileye would have ripped into you for that.

    ¡°I¡¯ve taken three. Mark seven then, though I¡¯m less certain of the bodies in here. Lord Jelka?¡±

    ¡°Elias- Courier Brendle took two.¡±

    Jelka eyed his would be rescuers coldly. It was one Lakyus and Gagaran wese used too, a suspect and discriminating gaze born from a common fear of the Adventering folk. The face of his liege, and of Urovana were similarly dark, though to a lesser degree. For his part, Ramposa seemed to be doing well considering the circumstances. His eyes were not fearful at the sight of death, only tired.

    ¡°So nine we know of. Many came into the palace.¡±

    ¡°How did you know to be here, Lady Aindra?¡±

    Jelka¡¯s tone was accusatory, and although Lakyus understood the sense in his suspicion, she none-the-less found it deeply insulting.

    ¡°We came into the information while interrogating a prisoner.¡±

    ¡°And you did not think to send a forewarning? Where even is your keep?¡±

    ¡°Near Re-Junda.¡±

    ¡°So then ten leagues-¡±

    ¡°Twelve.¡±

    ¡°Twelve then, and you still didn¡¯t send us anything? You couldn¡¯t have thought to close that distance in time. You have that Red Shadow of yours with you. Could it do nothing?¡±

    ¡°She attempted two twice, but her messages were intercepted by an abjurer, and she fought an long-range spell skirmish. Actually, it was classed as an ultralong engagement.¡±

    ¡°And she lost, I presume?¡±

    ¡°We have reason to believe it was an elder lich she fought. Undead like those can cast from the innate parts of their being.¡±

    ¡°Then surely one of you could have ridden ahead?  After ¡®her¡¯ failure, could she not have flown here? You would have still shaved off time. Or was she out of mana?¡±

    Lakyus smirked. She knew she had won the row.

    ¡°We teleported.¡±

    Jelka¡¯s next retort died in his mouth. His face stayed stock still, and he let himself rise from a defensive posture. Ramposa¡¯s loosened and darkened, his shoulders falling in sequence.

    ¡°We have no time for this one-upmanship. Lady Aindra. Find my sons, find my daughters, and find the Head-Warrior.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your majesty. Tina is tracking the captain down now. And daughters, Sire?¡±

    ¡°My Vena is present, though after this, I wish she hadn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I understand. Gagaran, can you still fight with what¡¯s left of your hammer?¡±

    ¡°You need to ask?¡±

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re to seek out Princes Barbro and Zanac, then circle round and try for her.¡±

    ¡°After, you are to escort us all to the company of the Royal Guard and Marshall Theiern.¡±

    That zealot is here tonight? Probably a fortunate thing. He and his men are a terrifying force.

    ¡°Yes, sire. Gagaran, grab him.¡±

    Lakyus gestured to the man who had been knocked out, still pinned under his comrade. Gagaran kicked his dead fellow off of him, and foisted him up over her left shoulder. She did this with no fanfare, and Lakyus saw Jelka buck at her strength.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Lakyus took point, exiting the room first. Her floating blades were splayed out in three pairs, four floating level infront of her, another two by each of her flanks. Gagaran, Ramposa, Urovana, and Jelka followed in tow. She stepped through the sitting space, rounded the corner into the foyer. The bodies were lying where they had been left, smoldering holes where the shards of Gagaran¡¯s blown-apart war-hammer had embedded themselves in the walls.

    Strange, that. Between her, and Evileye, we¡¯ll need a fortnight to return to full fighting strength.

    They moved swiftly over the bodies, Ramposa able to keep pace without forcing others to lag with him. Lakyus moved over the wreck of the door and entered into the corridor. She shot her gaze left and then right. Tia was bolting down at full speed. Lakyus''s eyes widened and she stepped into the hall.

    ¡°Report.¡±

    ¡°I took three in plate, one in hidden leather. They were positioned at junctions, like they were preparing for a counter-assault.¡±

    ¡°One from us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Fiendish Leader.¡±

    Do you really need to call me that in front of the king?

    ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°I checked the room of the crown prince, he wasn¡¯t there. Zanac wasn¡¯t in his either.¡±

    Tia extended her middle and ring fingers on her right hand, Lakyus keeping her composure as she saw it. This was one of the few battle signs the twins had taught the rest of the group.

    ¡°Enemy Listening.¡± She has something to say that the King and Jelka can¡¯t hear. I need to create distance. She would have run to Renner first, but she hasn¡¯t made mention of it.

    ¡°Your Majesty, without a clear bearing on your sons, I propose we get you to safety. It will be safer to act from there.¡±

    Ramposa, stepping past the ruined frame, maintained his solemn visage. It took him a moment to respond, the silence drawing into uncomfortable length.

    ¡°Acceptable.¡±

    The rest forged ahead, entering the corridor fully and breaking left. Lakyus stayed in place, waiting for her comrade to reach her. Tia ran to her side and whispered into her ear.

    ¡°I checked Renner¡¯s first. Barbro¡¯s man was dead outside her room. She¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡ª

    Ah, I still cannot understand his response. It is beyond seeming. It was fear, I¡¯m sure of that now, but why? Gazef experienced it when he thought he had failed his master, but that was a lesser thing. Keveleos fell along a similar path, but when I gave my answer to why, the character of his face changed entirely. Is hunger not a typical thing? Why then would admitting it earn such¡­ such an escalated visage? It must have a greater emotion. Terror, or perhaps horror. The giving of a sign too, as if he saw something from the deep places of the world. No matter, there are other concerns of note.

    Drums beat inside her head. A throbbing pain stretched near from her nape all the way to the flank of her orbital. The sharpest part of the mass went through her right eye, the sensation of what most termed a spike driven into their skull, but that Renner knew as an open wound. The wound sliced across her perception and concentration alike, rending both a little looser.

    How I thirst for an anodyne. The agony of this is increasing several fold, my head feels ready to split. Shame that it would come at bespoke cost. No, that undersells it. At this moment, it would be a cost worth bereavement. Whatever we shed now cannot be used to enthrall the Ruler of Everything later. Strange to think that I now must barter so planely with it for further sands. In turn, I exchange that for life. I must maintain an inventory of what we possess in the way of mortal goods. Climb with his tonics, he grabbed five, or maybe six. Ahh I don¡¯t know, I was still dazed at the time of seeing it. His blade and armor, though that was sundered. How? It¡¯s¡­ inducing, both of rages and baser things. I specifically gave unto Lakyus the impetus of protecting him. I do wish to see him cycled between this world and what lies beyond, though that ought to occur entirely on my terms. To think that man almost severed the two of us from the Earth.

    Renner felt her chest tighten slightly. Images of Teloran¡¯s body broke to the front of her mind. Vivid workings of the mechanics of his death, detached from any semblance of the realized versions of such happenings. Vivid workings of Climb¡¯s victory. Vivid workings of Climb¡¯s death, and of hers. She pushed the thought out of her mind, deciding to grip on some new puzzle to distract herself from the fear in her soul.

    Execution¡­ frustrating how that is only a fingerlength¡¯s measure from being workable. The crime of slaying my brother¡¯s adjutant is too great to not invoke a ruinous death. Not as if I can pin upon him a lesser crime. Chardelon dearest what are you saying? Am I actually falling to loonery? I thought that was perhaps only a flit of my earlier inward hatred. If by ¡®measure¡¯ to workable, I meant a spindle¡¯s distance, then yes - that is on technicality - a measure. I¡¯m churning slowly, wakefulness still crushed under the weight of the celebration. Drink ought to be avoided like one does miasma. Temperance in total seems excessive. Any idea of a capital sentence for Climb is stillborn. There is no possible crime I could pin to him that would allow me a revival, for which I could then keep him. His death must be one born from the pages of his books, if I do not find to abandon this cause altogether. I¡¯ve slipped into uselessness.

    Images of steel plunging into her chest. The feeling of it as it passed into her. As it tore her form. As it rent her to pieces. Renner shuddered, the phantoms of her chest overwhelming her. She brought her hands to her chest, same as before. She could not drown the feeling. She again tried to escape the image, though she could only tread the water above the abyss, not pull herself from it entirely.

    I marked that breach as an impossible thing. it must have been some mischief of ephemeral make; a fanciful implementation of a warrior¡¯s art. Teloran was skilled at those manipulations, doubly so for the blade. Climb defeated him despite that, and from the state of the hall, it was a spectacular melee. Though, I cannot stop myself from thinking of the reverse. I wonder what it feels like to die.

    Renner fell under entirely, unable to hold herself together any longer. Water she had bayed broke from her cheeks. She cried, genuine tears which she had not found cause to embrace for a long time. A detached part of herself noted that she could only barely distinguish them from their false counterparts. She felt her mask wash away in their wake, though even her inner face did not look distant from the image she wished to project.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I¡¯m going to remain absent my hand mirror forever, aren''t I?

    In a strange way, this was more affecting than any loss of comfort prior. A growing sense that she would never get it back. She managed to vanquish it with more material concern. She knew without spying herself that her eyes had lost an element of their luster, to say nothing of her mouth. A measure of protection was in order. She closed her eyes, and with more struggle than she had hoped for, managed to cover her mouth with her right hand. The basic elements of her appearance squared for anyone who dared enter the room, she let herself lament in full.

    Geistdom feels close at hand. I cannot drag my thoughts back to this world. The way he looked, splayed on the ground. The violence of his end. I repeat myself again, but the thing beggars further enumeration. There is a cruel beauty to it. The depths of panic he was subject to in his finality. The anger of it. I can only imagine how Climb feels. Anguish, perhaps, but was this not a kill? No, that is reductive of him. I¡¯ll sick him on lesser things another time; what he experienced tonight weighs the heart. Perhaps I now understand the trade of clerics and priests. Warnings of ends numerous and too many.

    A yelp and a moan from her, eweling gulps of air escaping her mouth. She tightened her fingers, tensioning the flesh of her face as she dragged in the direction of her mouth. Renner was hurting, and she felt completely detached from any previous pretense of using this deadtime to strategize.

    The operative word there is ¡°end¡±. Why have we called it so? Is there not a next life? I have so often felt ready to spurn the powers afield the firmament. Ends beggar beginnings, but even that feels odd. The study of such a thing so often falls into laps of power. A too perfect union of divine knowledge and authority. It feels overfrail.

    Renner had meshed well with the cold rigor of mathematical constructs. It was not a subject she had ever imagined herself delving into in such detail, but it now consumed her thoughts more so than she had anticipated at the outset of her delving. Prior, it had simply been a means to an end, one she had intended to leverage an understanding of arcane things. However, that was no longer the case, and for her, her need for it broached unto itself. She now felt that dreaded twinge. The one that told her she had made a mistake, an error in calculation. That it was explicitly the part of her that rent math apart was something she did not wholly understand.

    There is an ouroboros laced in their words, one I¡¯m not sure they intend. That the sixfold were to come into being, that they were to forge the heavenly and earthen places in a stroke and simply leave it to be. Why did the Gods step from this world? Why did they leave us with only prophecies of the beyond? Do they exist? Lakyus has her object of worship, The Spring Water. He Who Fonts. The nomenclature is irrelevant. Those blessings of his, were they to come from another font, would any know? Point, a war in heaven. He too be slewn, then cut to bits for all the vital pieces to his Godhead, and then replaces wholesale with another. If that other, draped in all the finery and seaspray halos of the perihelion, were to continue in duty as Clarifier. In plainer terms, were Lakyus to receive those blessings all the same, would we know they to be dead? If they depart from their realm as we do from ours, and things were to continue on ever more, what can be said of their permanence? Of their involatity? In rote terms, nothing. To wit, to say if they never existed in the first place?

    She stopped, her tears dying on her face. She had found a subject that burned so hot and so bright that it seemed to snuff out any other emotion of hers. A sudden expansion and rush that turned in on itself, leaving nothing standing in its wake. A sudden awareness of the void. It was a terrifying thing to gaze upon. Oblivion in its totality.

    What would that mean? No Gods, simply the raw forces drawn forth akin to evocation of the elements. They¡¯re named as such, the four of our people, the six of Slane. An empty divinity. That has too many effects. Scriptures simply non-existent. Beings that exist only in what, their historicity? Worse conclusions. No guarantee of life once the earth swallows you. No rewards, no punishments. Would it simply be a lack of all? Eternal, dreamless sleep? Annihilation, Obliteration, name it as desired. How¡­ empty.

    This snapped her back to the present, the cold and unnerving realization that this may simply be the extent of her existence. That the ephemeral, while it thickened the air and the water, was created ex materia. That it at some fundamental level was absent of meaning.

    Keveleos will bid us to fly. We¡¯ll dash across the countryside, slip betwixt patrols and ruinous men, alight above bridges and roads. We¡¯ll run and we¡¯ll run and we¡¯ll run. First to the company of Lakyus, then past these lands to the arms of Calca or Jircniv. Either would surely give us safety, no? To throw myself at their feet and beg for a life beyond the dogs of my brother. No, neither would provide us with any semblance of sanctuary. As to being true guaranteers, Calca can¡¯t, and Jircniv won¡¯t. Swords dangle over her head akin to how they dangle over my father¡¯s, or how they are soon to dangle over my brother¡¯s. This nation is to fall to war against itself - what an odd thing to say.

    How am I to sell myself to Jircniv? He has clearly taken to me. His coy attempts at me have grown interesting beyond ends. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s exactly the sort of erraticism he wishes to provoke in the Kingdom. Ah, how well does my understanding of that language pass? ¡°Serva me quaeso a fratre meo! Regnum minatur?¡± That ought to sound frustratingly primitive, and I know not how well I could maintain a face as a forlorn and outcast princess. He could wrench any terms from me; a pact to earn the envy of any of the baleful eight. I wonder if they are an equal invention? I would be utterly powerless. Advisor cum slave. I wonder if he views me as an anathema to Baharuth? He may fundamentally misunderstand my aims. I will need to find a way to earn my Climb under him; perhaps as a bureaucrat, or in true irony, a cryptographer. His scheme was perfect. In any case, rendering the third princess of your opposed power to whatever humiliations he could devise is a near complete victory. Legitimacy or brutal insult would both be in reach. He¡¯s to have everything he wants in a year. This is to be the last summer of Re-Estize. Even a miracle tonight will bear vile consequences.

    Every material question has been answered, external actions are mapped entirely. Then, to an inward evaluation. How did I not catch this night? There is an implication there that this was my failing, but who else could it have been? One cannot levy blame on a rat for stealing food from a store, nor the cat that failed to snatch it, only its owner. What have I failed in doing? This night could have only been prevented by me if I had caught the conspiracy before it snapped into being, perhaps at dinner.

    The evidence was not bare to inspection, but all the component men of its coming were. For all his love of courtly pageant, my brother is no actor. He would have been visibly anxious, at least to me. If only I had turned my head to spy him in detail. Spotting that, I could have constructed the rest. I had the time to, and even though it was not enough to assemble the event entirely, I could have guessed at its magnitude. From there, a simple conversation with say, Keveleos, or one of Bolloupe''s many puppets would have sufficed. I could then have robbed them of their surprise entirely with a short message to Gazef, undoubtedly something they believed themselves given to have. I do not know the mechanics of it, how they would eliminate both he and my father in tandem, but my hypothetical self would.

    The error came in the second cup. The first does not pine for addition, but if it is given, it is guaranteed to receive yet another. I let my fears of the future doom me to a worse one. Ironic. More than that, it seems to be a cruel and vindictive punishment. Am I sure my scratching-out of the heavens was not premature? Which is a better fate, the Gods wishing to torment me, or never existing to do so in the first place? Boundless hilarity. Onto reforms then. Temperance in total. I will drink no more than what passes the minimum threshold of being socially permissible. Any others to make? Watching those around me closer seems a necessity. Failing to see my brother in his little quakes is one, discerning Keveleos is two. I was completely unpracticed with him, I had never thought to prepare for such a conversation. Neglectful of me to not flesh myself out. That ought to be it. May I not only be marked as golden on the outside, but on the inside of my shell as well.

    Ah, perhaps this hallucination is useful. Three and seven, numbers afield of those sacred by one, and both equidistant from my count as fifth. What a grand insanity I¡¯ve achieved. The very world itself seems to sing my place in the pit. Maybe the Gods themselves are telling me I¡¯m not a being crowned with the right to an existence beyond. Risky thoughts; Surshana is lurking just ¡®round the corner to grab me.

    Renner laughed for the first time since she had woken, breaking her streak of foul emotions. Her entire life had seemed to upend before her eyes, yet she still was able to land on the inverted ground. The problems of escape and action were solved, the only thing left was their actual doing. She felt free.

    Though he suggested it, there is no purpose in lurking here any longer. I ought to leave my solitude and snatch what last snippets of conversation I can before Valencia and Re-Estize fall under the horizon behind me. Along with my hand mirror and other articles, the ledger is lost too. There''s an honest chance no one will discover its actual nature. That membrane she wove may very well outlast the Kingdom itself. I may render a few more articles from Keveleos¡¯s hand; food and drink maybe? I¡¯ve never had rations before.

    Renner sighed and stood, bringing herself up from the chair slow enough to acclimate to motion again. This was not helped by her headache, though she knew the nausea would pass. She weakly dabbed her eyes, wanting to preserve some of its moisture for a more sympathetic performance. She stretched herself, limbering her legs and arms in preparation for things to come. She still cringed at the feeling of cold tile on her feet, dispossessed of any sort of footwear. She marked it as another thing to seek from Keveleos before departing.

    ¡°All things well to be.¡±

    Renner set off, reaching the door in a moment''s time. Her sudden dynamism had set the air roiling, and she found her eyes tracing the shadows cast by the dancing flame as they warbled. In a way she couldn¡¯t quite pin, it was comforting to her. Opening the handle, she spied the outer room, finding it just as expected. Little had changed, and as she entered, she could see the Count brooding center-space.

    ¡°Your Highness, is there something you need?¡±

    Renner shot her gaze left, to see that a guard had been placed outside her door. She recognized him as one of the Count¡¯s men that he had named in front of her, Hilman.

    I wonder if you are even a Knight at all. Perhaps just an Assassination man playing the part of one. Irrespective, your placement flanking my door means your liege - or perhaps master -  is trying to get in my good graces, or those of others. Interesting.

    ¡°Nothing, I just¡­ felt ready to return.¡±

    Upon hearing her voice, Keveleos pirouetted to look at her. His face did not change, but his body went rigid. His only motion was his left hand, rapping against the pommel of his blade.

    He¡¯s acting as if I¡¯m a physical danger. Strange. Do I represent such a fundamental threat?

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner moved slowly into the room, trying to match her counts with the ones she took earlier. They were the same, no one had left, no one had joined them. Rochefort was still away, off claiming some glory she couldn¡¯t care to ponder. Keveleos¡¯s anxiety did not abate, and he broke from the table to come over to her. This was beginning to tarnish his image in Renner¡¯s mind, and she could not understand any cause for his fear.

    Is he a fool? How in any way could I be a threat to him. Everything has been cast in the black-white, no? My brother making a grab for the throne that seems to have been executed at least half competently, me finding myself in the company of an Eight Fingers man, too many to mark at the moment.

    ¡°Your Highness, is there something-¡±

    ¡°Just what I said to your man, Count. I simply thought to spend some spare time engaging in conversation. Say, we spoke of the laurel¡¯s your eldest received, but did your-¡±

    The door to the room was flung open, bouncing off the wall at its fullest extent in a loud bang. Rochefort, a proud and wide grin on his face, stepped in blade in hand.

    ¡°Presenting to you, His Highness the Crown Prince Barbro.¡±

    Renner froze.

    He¡¯s here.

    Her mind tore alight, shattering any fetters that had been left on its course. As he stepped into the room, she drank everything she could of him.

    His face is fouled, as is his right hand. Has he been subject to assault? The stems on his dexter font from his wrist. Ah, what has dried and cracked on his face is the blood from his wrist, not a new cut on his forehead. One slice to the wrist, yet the rest of him bears no mark of combat. He has no blade, nor harness. Could a foe have closed distance enough to attack at his blade arm, yet not slay him? By no means did he engage in a melee. Did he attempt to end himself, or perhaps, to make it look like he did conquer in battle? I have no way to soothsay.

    Renner¡¯s heart pounded so hard it threatened to drown the noise of the room. Further inspection of his form yielded nothing, and so she grabbed desperately to the topic of flight.

    Do I scream for Climb? Do I run to his side and ask him to bear a blade? He would run Barbro through, he would undoubtedly do it. If my brother is already king, then we would earn our place as traitors. Would we be able to escape? Through a cluster of the five that departed? Five, or was it six? Do I tally my brother? Only the Gods know Keveleos¡¯s course in this. We couldn¡¯t do it. We couldn¡¯t do it!

    Am I about to die? No- no, he can¡¯t slay me here. He does, no one will understand. They may not kill him, but they would mark him insane. He cannot start his rule as Mad King Andrean. He would shatter his base of power entirely. Men and women from all factions, both those open and opaque, from every stretch of lands marked Vaiself are in this room. He could not do it¡­ right?

    He wanted his man to plunge steel into me in my sleep. There¡¯s no telling what he¡¯ll do, how he¡¯ll react to my presence. To the fact that I am very much out of the ground. Does he know Teloran is dead? Too many things to count. I do not have the time to put an act or a lie together. I am going to die aren¡¯t I? Even if I ¡®scape him now, he¡¯s to run me down and through.

    I will need to fight for every twip of ground. To slip past him and run. If you shy away from him, you show yourself as being aware of his treason. Chardelon, if there is any time for you to live up to your dullness, it is now. For this, let me be marked as a valorant woman.

    ¡°Brother!¡±

    ¡ª

    A wicked and foul voice touched his ears, and Barbro¡¯s whipped his face to fix on its source. It was his youngest sister. Despite what he had ordered Teloran, she was very much alive. His face seemed to seize.

    She¡¯s alive? How is that possible?

    ¡°Brother! Thank the Gods, you¡¯re safe.¡±

    Renner broke from her place, running towards him, her bare feet pattering against the ground. Her hair heaved as she ran, her eyes wide and sparkling.

    ¡°I was so worried. Oh my Gods, I was so worried.¡±

    She¡¯s alive. Teloran¡­ did he betray me? There¡¯s no chance she could have gotten away if he was hunting her down. Where is that bastard?

    ¡°When I saw the ruin in the palace, I couldn¡¯t help but fear that you and the rest of our family had been caught in its proceedings.¡±

    Renner slowed herself, but not enough to prevent him bracing a light collision as she cleaved herself to him. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she wetted his breast as she sobbed into it.

    ¡°Tell me brother, have you seen our other siblings. I fear for them too. Zanac or Vena? Please tell me you have.¡±

    No. She¡¯s bloodied, so she has seen violence. Combat, or the battlefield after. Is my man dead? Who could have killed him?

    Barbro spied down at his sister, her voice hiccupping as she lamented. She gripped him in a tight hug, more force than he had known her capable of. Her face slipped upward, streaks of tears sliding down her face as she struggled to get out words.

    Was it that no-blood sludgeborn of hers? Did he kill Teloran? No, that¡¯s not possible. He can¡¯t fight like that.

    ¡°Brother? Are you wounded?¡±

    Here I wanted you dead, and yet you continue to pester me. The assassins were supposed to return to me once the deed was done, and bear me the crown. Why did that not happen? Did they fail? Gods, would you shut up?! I can¡¯t hear myself think!

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, brother?¡±

    Barbro could bear his half-sister¡¯s indignities no longer. He raised his right hand and struck her across the face.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (24)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    That is Teloran. Shit.

    ¡°Fiendish Leader, he was a-¡±

    ¡°Knight-Officer.¡±

    ¡°...Shit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s my reaction too.¡±

    The evidence of this scene is shockingly clear. I can imagine the fight almost exactly.

    Lakyus cast her gaze down, evaluating the stains, shards of shattered and vitreous glass, and chunks of metal shrapnel. She lowered herself onto her haunches to take a closer look at the debris.

    Scattered metal. Chunks of mithril¡­ those are shards of Climb¡¯s armor. The carpet was pushed out of the way - I can''t imagine fighting on it. The blade of a dagger that snapped off from the looks of it.

    ¡°Evileye, what do you think.¡±

    All five members of the team were present. Lakyus, Gagaran, and Tia had bid the King and his associates into the hands of the Royal Guard. Jelka immediately set about establishing a temporary command post on the third floor, unifying other disparate groups of knights, and trying to establish a general understanding of the tactical situation. This is something Lakyus was not unadroit at, but the team was better served in sweeping the palace, and she was able to break the Blue Roses away from standing sentry to the King. Swiftly running downstairs to grab their companion, Tia had spotted her twin. For her part, after being directed by a unit of city patrolmen, she had found Gazef unconscious and in the care of a priest. She left him there and made her way back to Valencia. The entirety of the Blue Rose dashed back up, Lakyus informing them of Tia¡¯s words. The realization that Barbro was not only a traitor wont to innaction, but actively plotting against his family and siblings.

    ¡°That long shard there, pick it up for me.¡±

    For some reason Lakyus didn¡¯t understand, Evileye was communicating entirely by mass message spell. Gagaran had both her and the prisoner slung over her shoulder, bearing the two of them without breaking a sweat. Lakyus moved her hand, grabbing a long chunk in the shape of a prism. Closer inspection revealed it to be half of a blade that had been broken apart upon its ridge.

    ¡°I¡¯ve not made a habit of studying materials, but that looks like an ?theric stress fracture. Probably the same thing that happened to your hammer.¡±

    ¡°Shorty, you¡¯re gonna need to explain-¡±

    ¡°It means Climb suffered a wound that would have killed most, lived through it, and then killed Barbro¡¯s dog.¡±

    ¡°Gods, that boy is dedicated.¡±

    ¡°He is. Set me down, the prisoner too.¡±

    Gagaran threw off the prisoner, still unconscious. By this point, he had been out so long she knew he wouldn¡¯t be woken up by anything but healing magics, so she felt fine letting him hit the floor. She set Evileye down gently.

    ¡°Thank you. Has he been interrogated?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t kill him then.¡±

    Evileye torqued her body, and after bringing her hands under her, dragged her way over to the man. Before anyone could muster a response to her words, she pulled off her mask and sunk her teeth deep into his neck. No one knew what to say, just the quiet sounds of her drinking mixed with the whispers of candle flames. Gagaran, as she was wont, broke it first.

    ¡°Does uh¡­ he taste good?¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t matter. This is the best meal I¡¯ve had in a hundred years.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Oh! You mean like digging into a rack of ribs after a long day.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how sick the pig was, it tastes good anyways.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t have come up with a more hick comparison if I tried Tina, but yes.¡±

    Lakyus blinked, suddenly feeling appreciation for Evileye¡¯s sarcasm. It was a welcome relief from the grimness of the night. Any aversion she felt to Evileye faded as she watched her feed, her previously held reservations vanishing. Evileye was an undead, Evileye was a vampire. These facts turned mundane for Lakyus, and she truly internalized the nature of her comrade. She chose to speak next.

    ¡°Will you be able to recover with that?¡±

    ¡°I already am, this will just speed things up.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°That Climb managed to do this is impressive. Teloran was a stout fighter in his own right - at least he should have been to advance to his rank.¡±

    ¡°I think we can all say that. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say he had a shot at our line of work.¡±

    ¡°You think, boss? Not as an-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d doubt he¡¯d make it past mithril. But a duel like this? He¡¯d make silver, maybe gold as is. Evileye is underselling him; he¡¯s not just dedicated, he¡¯s indefatigable - sanguine even. If he and Renner are gone, that means he¡¯s likely already gotten her to safety. Tia, do you think anyone else has been to this wing?¡±

    ¡°Impossible to tell.¡±

    ¡°Guess.¡±

    ¡°Not likely. Had any palace Knights or Eight Fingers men come down this hall, they wouldn¡¯t have left his body there.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I figured.¡±

    ¡°Fiendish Leader?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What are we gonna do?¡±

    What are we going to do? Even if the facts of the scene were clear - which by all rights they are - that would mean nothing against the word of the Crown Prince. He would be able to claim any absurdity he wished; that he had ordered his man to the side of the Princess to protect her, that her bodyguard was some ¡°rabid no-blood¡± who put her at risk. Infuriating

    Lakyus couldn¡¯t find a response, and slipped into silence. That question had been looming in the back of her mind since she was first told by Tia, and she could find no clear resolution. All five of them blanched, no one knowing what to say or to do. After it became clear Lakyus wasn¡¯t going to speak, Tia pushed.

    ¡°Killing a Knight. That¡¯s¡­ uh-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s capital.¡±

    ¡°Gods.¡±

    Think clearly, if we do nothing, Teloran¡¯s body will be found and Climb will be slung from the gallows. He is valuable, the only person solely dedicated to not just protecting the palace, or house Vaiself, but the princess herself. That¡¯s not a distinction I ever hoped to make, but it''s true.

    ¡°We need to fix this for Climb.¡±

    For Renner, too. It¡¯s pretty clear she¡¯s infatuated with him. He gets executed, who knows what that¡¯d do to her. I don¡¯t want to see my friend fall into a depression. I should feed Teloran to- No, I ought to destroy him.

    Lakyus took a few steps forward and around the corner towards Teloran¡¯s corpse. She drew Kilineiram, the black of its form speckled with occasional flakes of candle light reflected from the imperceptible imperfections of its surface. Leveling the blade at the body, she brought it closer until its tip was only a finger length away from the back of his torso. She pulled in a long breath, filling her lungs with air. This steadied her, and she spoke the midnight words to rouse her sword to its task.

    ¡°Consumption.¡±

    A short pulse along its length, the gem at its center seeming to glitter with inverted color. A black bolt broke from its tip, drawing the light of the space into it. It struck Teloran, wrenching the soundscape as it did so - the noise was as if, all at once, a thousand men had their deathrattles. His armor bent inward at the site of contact, crunching the flesh along with it. It seemed as if he would continue to fold in on himself, but suddenly a jet of what seemed to be dark dust burst from the breach. Lakyus could not help but find it reminiscent of Laira smoke. His body and armor he had worn began to fall apart, portions breaking at brittle angles before crumbling and sublimating into the air. The last of the pieces dissolved away, the puddle of blood that he had laid in flash boiling and spitting more into the air. As if brought by air current, the motes of dust that remained in the air began to swirl around the length of Kilineiram, before falling and melting into its surface as did snowflakes against ground. Then, it was done. Within eight seconds, Teloran¡¯s mortal vessel was wiped from the face of existence.

    ¡°Teloran was not here. Is that clear?¡±

    Her four companions responded simultaneously.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡ª

    Renner¡¯s feet slipped off the ground, and she fell. She struck the ground a moment later, the right side of her body rattling against the tile floor. The impact jarred her, cutting off a short cry of hers as her jaw snapped shut. She preemptively cringed, half-expecting a kick. It did not come.

    He¡¯s failed, hasn¡¯t he?

    A few gasps, before the room fell dead silent. Renner suppressed a few cries, not even needing to do so poorly; such was the quiet that she could be heard regardless. Those sounds mixed with those of her brother¡¯s breathing, labored and agonized as it was. Everything was frozen. Barbro broke it first, his timbre uncertain and illfit.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for my sister''s mewling. We- we are to find my father. To protect the King.¡±

    Why else would he let himself be drawn around by Rochefort? He knows Teloran is not returning to him. Those wounds, if self-inflicted, are a sign of his turmoil. Others with keen eyes will surely notice. What a wonderful thing you¡¯ve done for me brother. I ought to draw myself off the floor immediately. Appear resilient in the face of his rage. Indomitability is a virtue.

    ¡°Rochefort, Keveleos, you are to come with me, and we are to rescue him.¡±

    Pulling them away for an assault here, redirecting them from the actual course to my father, or making yourself a twice-turncoat? Many things it could be, though I am wont to hope for the latter.

    Renner placed her palms up under her, and began to raise herself up. This triggered a pattering from one of the corner-huddling maids, rushing over to bid Renner onto her feet. After a moment, the entire group broke for Renner. Renner reached to the hand of one, and let herself be drawn up with her assistance. Spying her face, she saw it was Maid Nunia. She gave a weak profession of gratitude, her own tears soaking her visage.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Perhaps he has no earthly idea of his plans. That strike of his - as much as it does hurt - is beginning to feel like a blessing.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Rochefort! Keveleos!¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Crown Prince.¡±

    ¡°Ready your men, we¡¯re departing.¡±

    Is he genuine?

    The faces of all those in the room drew tighter, the scene ratcheting to new heights. Again things fell into silence, no one able to quite piece together Barbro¡¯s words. Mortal fear seeped into the space, having already been vanquished by the presence of men-at-arms. That that was to be ripped away again seemed an ill-timed joke on the part of the prince. Keveleos bore himself up, and dared a response.

    ¡°But¡­ what of those here, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°So what? We have to make our way to the side of His Majesty.¡±

    Brother, my Gods! Are you so content to shatter your reputation?! First assaulting me, and then without halt, completely disregarding the whims of those around you to seek a false glory? Surely your co-conspirators will simply run at the sight of your face. So you¡¯re only interested in a coward¡¯s victory too?

    ¡°I am not willing to leave those here without a guard.¡±

    Daring play, though it beggars the question of why bother running counter to the Crown Prince¡¯s will. Is he trying to appeal to me?

    ¡°Are you refusing my command?¡±

    ¡°Let me leave at least a pair of my men here. Between them and the Princess¡¯s Adjutant-¡±

    Mistake to mention him.

    ¡°That no-blood bastard is here?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and he bore your sister, her Highness Renner, from danger.¡±

    ¡°From danger?¡±

    ¡°He too bears upon him the marks of combat. My man is knitting his wounds as we speak.

    ¡°He¡¯s being treated. Why- no, who did he-¡±

    Barbro cut himself off, jerking his head down a moment later. His eyes darted along the floor as he ground his teeth. He was shaking, the sort of fury that boiled under the skin and caused it to spasm. Another moment, and he pulled his face back up to stare at Renner. She dodged his gaze sheepishly, neither of them more than a pace apart.

    You robbed yourself of any course forward. You can¡¯t pry any more information out of I, or Keveleos, lest it point to your order to end my life. Asking who Climb killed-

    ¡°Who did Climb protect you from?¡±

    What?! Brother-dearest, you¡¯re burning every gain of yours to ash! I dare not let my thoughts trip over themselves in shock. A new paradigm for my brother, assume he is to speak the worst possible words. A simple evasion to draw it out more ire?

    ¡°I¡­ um, I didn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Speak.¡±

    Yes, this works. The social leverage I am to wring from you brother.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ uh¡­um-¡±

    ¡°Speak damn it!¡±

    ¡°Your Highness! Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this line of questioning is absurd. Your sister is distraught.¡±

    So Rochefort found his voice too? It is the right thing to say, even if he¡¯s just mimicking his better. Ah, I should respond in my brother¡¯s stead, and do so with greater clarity to tighten his threads.

    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s, it¡¯s alright. I can¡­ um, I can speak to the¡­ uh, matter.¡±

    Renner hiccuped a few times, her voice anguished and unsteady. She pulled her hand from Nunia¡¯s - still being flanked with maid staff - and wicked a few tears away from her face with its back.

    ¡°He- uh. He fought¡­ someone outside my room. There, um, there was a lot of um¡­ and I didn¡¯t, uh...¡±

    ¡°Speak! For the love of the Gods! To think I was cursed with such a fool of a sister.¡±

    And I blessed with you.

    ¡°There was a lot of blood. I didn¡¯t¡­ um, get a good look at um¡­ the¡­ man. I¡¯m sorry, brother.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it, that¡¯s all you have to say?!¡±

    Renner let herself start, jumping slightly at his shout. She broke down entirely, her apologies slurring into an incoherent mess of half enunciated syllables and gulps of air. She covered her mouth, and after giving a stuttered nod to her brother, turned away.

    I see you now, brother. I see that you truly are the fool I marked you for.

    ¡°We- We are to depart.¡±

    Barbro¡¯s proclamation was met with little response, the only that came being entirely unsympathetic. Renner sought a chair, taking a few tentative steps deeper into the room. She found an empty one quickly, some chivalrous baron swiftly vacating in the eve of her arrival, and lowered herself into it as best she could.

    Where I was thrust into this nocturn with nary a rung to grip too, I manifested a foundation from the ?ther itself upon which to stand. I built a set of base assumptions, a course of action that I could use to leverage an escape from your whims. I made decisions, tore the night apart with every mote of my ability. Within an instant of my head being cleared of the intemperant fog of drink, I knew you were my hunter, and I knew the others you had tracked to kill as well. I slipped us through patrols, and when confronted with an account of my puppy¡¯s deeds, mourned our way past deeper inspection. There, I ripped a route and a horse from one of my enemies. While I found clear failures in my earliest of plans, and those I have yet to piece or soothsay, I have not fallen in any moment that does not benefit me greatly.

    ¡°But, Your Highness!¡±

    ¡°Leave your men if you wish, Keveleos. She can keep her no-blood too.¡±

    What of you, brother-dearest? You had this night handed to you on a platter, and yet you lost it none-the-less. You commanded your closest man into the charnel on an errant whim that could have been dealt with after. I know not who or how you planned to slay my father; surely he would be better served in that endeavor. Even as a sentry by your side, he would have played a better part. Reverse those, Teloran as sentry is the only effective and efficient use for that man. He could corroborate a tale of heroism, you already struck upon yourself a convincing enough wound for that part. What a wonderful boon that could be? But no; you threw him into the jaws of my dog, and his neck broke like a twig.

    ¡°I assent, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Good to see you still have your wits. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Your betrayal has become clear to those around you, has it not? Your words to me are so strange as to be nonsensical without knowledge of your intention. Thus, they point to it, bidding any to the conclusion that your name is a treasonous one. If not, I am about to make it known to the Blue Roses, and surely it would not take much coin to rip this from the backrooms of Eight Fingers. This will slip into the sun-touched parts of the merchant community. Even if only a rumor, it will grace the ears of Imperial and Theocracy underhands. They¡¯ll see it flow from the top down. Another damming mark against you. Whether this gains traction in high circles is another matter entirely, and I doubt it will be an openly spoken conspiracy. Never-the-less, things are to swirl, and they are to rob you of any further chance of advancement. Bolloupe may be a persistent man, and he may fight to exalt you once more, but he will not find the capital for a genuine promotion. You have lost the crown.

    Barbro did not move, standing arms crossed by the door.

    ¡°You want us to-¡±

    ¡°Take point? Of course! What sort of question is that? I am the Crown Prince! You couldn¡¯t possibly expect me to move first as vanguard. Did everyone suddenly forget the existence of House Vaiself?!¡±

    I let something slip my attention in my exaltation of Barbro¡¯s idiocy. My puppy can kill. That is¡­ useful. Lakyus could, though the degree that I have any true control over her actions is doubtful. I could perhaps convince her to commit an act of treason, but not against her fellows, and nothing she would deem unheroic. Climb, he would require less. He would require far less. He defeated Teloran too. Is he strong? Gazef¡¯s eyes light when I speak of him, but I thought that was out of a warrior¡¯s favor to a fellow honorbound man, not a genuine respect of his ability. Interesting. This bids further investigation.

    Keveleos flicked his hand to two of his men, Renner suspecting their selection meant little. Rochefort did too, adding another to stay with the diaspora. Both counts, and the bulk of their men strode out the door. Barbro exited last, slamming the door shut as one final act of violence. Renner let herself morn louder, tears she had seemed to suppress stemming freely from her face.

    In any case. I¡¯m to emerge from this night alive, and with my name, house, and regality intact. I suppose I¡­ rolled well? It surely seems like there was chance at play in this outcome. Bolloupe has that phrase of his he uses at war councils? ¡°Hard six?¡± No matter, whatever the true meaning is not of concern. I am to remain the Golden Princess Renner, with no affixation of ¡°Renegade¡± or ¡°Late¡±.

    Renner, despite the importance of her act, could not help but let her eyes gleam a little brighter.

    ¡ª

    Gazef had no flowery awakening, simply jarring from the nothingness of his sleep to a sudden and painful consciousness.

    That hurts.

    Even in his thoughts, he remained understated. He felt like he had been set alight, every part of experiencing a unique and distinct burning sensation. The right side of his face had been literally burned, the heat of the fireball having cooked his skin; his chest was a collection of pinpricks, each breath seeming to drive them deeper into his body; somehow, even his toes felt as if they had been dipped in magma. His right arm was the worst of it, the etches carved by the lich¡¯s ichor feeling like they each contained a blaze. He flexed it, finding that the flesh was indeed mended, but the pain was not gone.

    ¡°Middle Cure Wounds.¡±

    Gazef was filled with the sensation of warmth, the agonies of his body being swept up and vanquished. Much of the pain abated, though the dull afterimage was left lingering in his arm. He opened his eyes to see an older woman - at least older than him - dressed in the garb of a priestess of the Six. The shading of her outfit, and the amulet that hung round her neck marked her as a servant of Alah Alaf, the God of life. The relief was only temporary, the pain flooding back a moment later.

    The lich¡¯s bile is still in my body, isn¡¯t it? Probably got into my blood.

    ¡°...Can¡­ you cast¡­ a curse removal?¡±

    ¡°Oh! Of course.¡±

    She drew her hands together, uttering a murmured prayer under her breath. Her blond hair was long, the earliest streaks of gray beginning to show along its length. The candlelight of the space framed her face as she whispered, catching its edges in brilliant relief. The room was small - the arched ceiling barely four spans high at its zenith - and although Gazef could probably have turned and looked to see the full expanse of the space, he suspected it was not much larger. When she finished, she reached out and pressed into his arm, speaking aloud the final words of the incantation as she did so.

    ¡°Remove Curse.¡±

    A second, more lasting wave of warmth filled him. The burning quenched completely, and as the soothing qualia of her divine magics faded, so did any trace of the flux from his blood. Everything left was now mundane, the base aches of sore muscles and raw bruises.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°O-of course. I must apologize, I would have done so earlier, but I didn¡¯t recognize it as a negative energy wound. Never treated anything like it. I¡¯ve seen scars caused by the undead before, but those looked unique. How did you even get them?¡±

    ¡°Piece of advice. If you get your arm torn apart, don¡¯t ram a lich right after.¡±

    She laughed gently, bringing her hand to her mouth as she did so.

    ¡°That¡¯s a new one for me.¡±

    ¡°For me, too.¡±

    ¡°I wish they had told me when they brought you in. It was a bunch of guardsmen, though the half of them looked right panicked. Had I known you had been accosted by a necrotic being, it would have made the whole lot of this easier. I thought you had some strange poison running in your veins. Unsure which one though, so I¡¯ve been trying tinctures on you.¡±

    ¡°I probably do.¡±

    ¡°You do? I thought you said you fought a lich.¡±

    ¡°I did fight a lich¡­ and a monk, and four bladesmen, including an illusionist, a blade-dancer, an armor fighter, and a fencer.¡±

    She paused and pursed her lips. After an instant, she broke back into motion, turning to retrieve a small vial from the table beside her.

    ¡°And they all poisoned their weapons?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how a monk would poison his fists.¡±

    Her face tightened, giving a look of greater concern. She set down the vial she had grabbed, and instead reached for another. She pulled away its glass stopper, and then dabbed it gently against a cloth, which she then set on his skin. If his earlier state had felt like flame, this felt like ice, or perhaps a mix of the two.

    ¡°Did anyone come for me?¡±

    ¡°A girl, or maybe a woman? I couldn¡¯t tell. She was short. Only about two thirds my height. Not that well dressed either. She said she had been sent by a guard unit, and that she was looking for the Warrior-Captain. She walked in, took one look at you, asked if you were alive, and when I told her yes, ran out without saying another word.¡±

    Stout, curt, ill-dressed. That sounds like¡­

    ¡°Did she have a tie in her hair?¡±

    ¡°Yes, a red one. You know her?¡±

    ¡°That was Tina of the Blue Roses.¡±

    ¡°Wait, one of the Twin Killers?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    So they¡¯re here. She was looking for me, and after she found out I was alive, ran off - probably back to the palace. Lakyus is likely there now. Hopefully she can stave off whatever¡¯s happening, or beat it outright. I wonder where I am.

    ¡°Where-¡±

    ¡°The cathedral in Gainswood. Specifically, one of its backrooms.¡±

    I¡¯ve been taken closer to the palace. Good.

    ¡°Why the need to specify?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how much adventurous ilk find cause to interrogate me after they rouse. It ought to be the other way round, y¡¯know.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    Gazef closed his eyes, and let himself sigh internally. He would need to return to the palace and resume his duty. That he had been attacked meant the king may be in danger, and the presence of the Blue Roses seemed to confirm it. He opened his eyes, quickly realizing that the priestess had stopped her work to stare at him.

    ¡°I know that look. Speaking of adventurous ilk, they give me that all the time.¡±

    ¡°Are you done?¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t seriously thinking of-¡±

    ¡°I have to return to the side of His Majesty.¡±

    ¡°You are, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    She sighed, the gentle lamentation of a healer forced to deal with the valiant. She looked away for a moment, opening and then closing her mouth. She turned back and raised an eyebrow wryly.

    ¡°Y¡¯know what? If you can get up, and walk out, I¡¯ll let you.¡±

    Gazef nodded gently. He accumulated his strength, drawing and bracing himself for the pain to come. In a moment, he felt ready to make the attempt, and tried to sit up. There wasn¡¯t a chance in the world. Gazef slammed back down into the table with a grunt, jolting him slightly. He had only drawn himself up a fraction of a finger length, but even that was enough to light his body with suffering anew.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡±

    She continued applying medicines and salves, before reciting another prayer. After a few more rounds of care, she turned to him with a gleam in her eye.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯ve never gotten the chance to treat a Warrior-Captain either.¡±

    She winked. Gazef gave a conciliatory smile in response, long since used to drawing the attentions of women.

 Movement II: The Last Summer of Re-Estize (25)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    A rapping cut through the hushed conversations of the room, each thud against the door sounding like a boom.

    Knocks? Hilman didn¡¯t bother when we entered the first time, nor Rochefort when he returned. Someone new is at the door, then.

    Some in the room stopped their movements, a few of the attentive - Barons Telesen, Ulesn, and Baroness Burkens - quickly coming to the same conclusions as Renner, a rapid-crossfire of knowing looks between them and the knights. Climb noticed it too, bristling at the sound before turning to Renner. He had been released by the physician a few minutes prior, side mended and chocked full of tonics and tinctures. She feigned fear, starting at the noise before twitching to him. He was standing to the right side of her chair, breaking away to the door along with two knights, his hand dancing along the haft of his blade.

    Wait, it was two, then two again. That¡¯s one of the battlesigns that-

    A sharp crack as the door bulged inward then buckled. The falling wreckage was blown through before it could collapse to the ground, a swiftly moving figure charging through it. They moved with speed and power, seeming to be entirely unfettered by the bulk they were carrying along with them. An instant later, they touched the ground, an impotent spray of wooden shrapnel scattering across the space in front of the door. Their frame was cut by a number of thin horizontal lines, each one glimmering in the candle light. Their stance was low and intimidating, projecting an aura of indomitability. They bore a long and wicked blade, one that looked as if it was carved straight from the night.

    ¡°Lakyus?¡±

    ¡ª

    The strategic council room was jam packed; knights-officers, other men-at-arms, the high nobles that led them, marshalls, lords, adventurers, warriors, royalty, and otherwise setting it near to capacity. The space was tight, and its conversations had reached a frightening din. Over half in attendance bore blades at their side, even noblemen fit enough to do so strapping on swords. Dozens of men were left outside the room. Between them, the Blue Roses, the Vice Warrior-Captain, the Royal Guard, and those in the service of Bolloupe, Raeven, and Urovana, Re-Estize had the highest density of strength in living memory. Jelka could feel none of the moment, only focusing on what he was to say.

    Alright. Gods, I can¡¯t believe- I- I need to do this. I need to do this. This is my responsibility.

    ¡°Attention! Attention! Attention!¡±

    By the third cry, the noise had died completely, the whole of the room turning to face the speaker. A shaken Jelka cleared his throat before continuing.

    ¡°The sweep of Valencia Palace and the outlying fortress is complete. There have been no additional reports of violence for an hour, and no additional bodies have been found. We believe we have destroyed or driven out the entirety of the enemy force. Reports of violence in the city pertaining to a rogue pyromancer are also believed to be resolved, and it is believed that the force that caused such havoc has been defeated.¡±

    ¡°We are unsure how enemy forces obtained entry, however, we believe it may have been through a hidden passage. Their assault was coordinated, and consisted of a multipronged intrusion into the quarter-wing on the third floor, an assault on Marshalls Theiern and Helgrave, and general actions to block reinforcements from moving through key-junctions and halls. In addition, they provided false reports of violence in the city to draw away the Warrior-Captain. As to the identity of the enemy, Lady Aindra has spoken to them being men in the service of Eight Fingers. This is the result of an interrogation she and her fellows conducted. Of those that assaulted Valencia, three were casters; we have no confirmation if they were or were not Academy trained. In addition, it is believed that the so-called ¡®Dark-Adventurer¡¯ team Six Arms was also among the enemy¡¯s number, and that it was they who the Warrior-Captain fought and drove off. We have no confirmation of the assistance of any other countries, organizations, groups, or individuals. We have no confirmation if Baharuth was or was not involved in tonight.¡±

    It was a perfect assault. I don¡¯t know how we would have stopped it. I should have been able to fend them off, right? Elias was always the better fighter of us. Had Lady Aindra not intervened, I- I don¡¯t know what would have happened.

    ¡°There are still many missing, and until we can contact all who fled the palace, and the sanctity of their houses, it is impossible to give a sure accounting of the dead. There are a number of absent men at arms, including four of Count Lytton¡¯s men, a pair of the Palace Guard, and the Adjutant to the Crown Prince. Rough totals are twenty four of the enemy dead, and¡­¡±

    Jelka¡¯s voice choked and died, his eyes drifting downward. He swallowed, visibly doing everything he could to keep his composure.

    ¡°And twelve of our own. Their identities were as follows. Of the Royal Guard, Sir Nunic, Sir Galdra, and Sir Brendle. Of the Palace Knights, Sir Illira, and Sir Seychen. Of Marshal Theiern¡¯s force, Sir Ynnvra, Sir Conner, and Sir Jack. Of Marshal Helgrave¡¯s force, Sir Quinlin. Of the Palace Guard, Keldan Ehkan, Delmar Gregor, and Petel Honar.¡±

    I let them down. I let all of them down.

    ¡°Although there were wounded, there were no dead among the guests in attendance, nor among the civilian staff of Valencia. We should count this not as a miracle, but as the result of the valor and bravery of the fallen. This is an outcome won by the heroism of your men and mine, the personal deeds which many of you conducted, the arrival and shock counter-assaults of the indomitable Blue Roses, and those broader attendees which fought, harried, misdirected, or otherwise hindered the attackers. Of note are the actions of Lady Aindra and her companions, who personally came to the aid of His Majesty and Lord Urovana in a time of desperate need, doing so via Teleportation spell from twelve leagues distant to reach us in time. Of significant valor were Counts Rochefort and Keveleos, leading men personally to rescue His and Her Highnesses Barbro and Renner respectively. Of similar bravery are the acts of Baroness Telsa, who personally conducted the orderly evacuation of seventy-one of her fellows, then safeguarding their exit by fending off an attacker with a blade she had retrieved one of the slain.¡±

    ¡°I find this night to be my failure; it was my responsibility to protect the royal family, their servants, and all those in attendance, and I have failed in that endeavor. To that end, as of now, I am no longer the Defensive Coordinator for the palace. Sir Macnamera will be filling that office immediately, until a proper successor to that position can be named.¡±

    ¡°To now speak not of the details, but of the broader outcomes. This is a horrifying event, and shows the wicked and cowardly nature of our enemies; that they would choose to employ assassins into their ranks; that they would launch ambushes on valiant men because they know they could not claim victory otherwise; that they would choose to engage in reckless and destructive acts against King and Country. We must endure tirelessly to ensure such a thing must never happen again. We must strengthen our vigil and take care to prevent any knowledge of our composition from falling to the ears of evil men. That is an absolute objective. That the Kingdom of Re-Estize will always remain radiant and glorious. That His Majesty will always remain safeguarded and upheld. That this black night may never be repeated again.¡±

    I¡¯m sorry Parheli. I¡¯m so sorry.

    ¡ª

    Three dozen dead? That¡¯s¡­ two dozen of those men Bolloupe procured. Were they such incompetent fighters that they would be slain two to one? Infuriating! How is that even possible? How much coin did I give him?! Did she say they were from Eight Fingers? I didn¡¯t know we were hiring through them.

    What of those that man Doll provided? How could they not defeat Gazef?! Wasn¡¯t he sent out without any magical armorment? Just how peerless of a fighter is he? That Gazef survived; in the care of one of the Six-Gods churches, I can¡¯t imagine it. He was left alive! I ought to rip my coin back from that man; that he took so many standards of platinum and failed in his duties. I¡¯ll need to find him, I¡¯m sure a coward like that would flee after such a failure.

    Barbro tightened and released his fist. The night had slipped from his grip entirely, and he couldn¡¯t understand how. He was standing in front of a floorplan for the palace - sans hidden passages - that had been dotted with wooden markers and pushpins. Exactly across from him was Lakyus, examining the third floor corridors closely, tracing her eyes across the route from the quarter to one of the reception rooms.

    How did that rogue Aindra even know to come tonight!? Bolloupe assured me he would make sure those adventurers would be busy doing other things. Godsdammit! That Marquis has failed me twice tonight. It''s unacceptable. I¡¯ve provided him so much. Those men were certainly incompetents; even provided with the entrance to a secret passage, they couldn¡¯t conduct a successful assault?

    He eyed her closely. Next to her were two; a tall and broad woman, standing even higher than him, muscles rippling out of her maroon armor; on her other side, a small crimson robed and masked figure barely half his height. The image was a strange contrast, and he could vaguely guess that they were the brute and sorceress of the team respectively.

    Aren¡¯t there supposed to be another two? The twins, I think. Who knows what they''re off doing. Jelka said they teleported. How is that even possible? I need a wizard by my side to explain such things. I would appoint one to the court¡­ I would¡¯ve appointed¡­

    Barbro¡¯s chest drew tight, suddenly struggling to breathe. He was stuck by how small the room felt, and he shifted in place, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. He blinked several times, pulsing his fist faster.

    That merchantman and his fellows; I¡¯ll have Teloran run the lot down, when he¡­ Dammit! I forgot. Where is he? Did he run off? Did he turn away from me? Is that how the Blue Roses knew to come? Gods, no, that doesn¡¯t make sense. They were still¡­ Fuck! It doesn¡¯t make sense. What of that bitch? That bitch and her dog!?

    Barbro turned his gaze to his left. His sister was near, only a few paces distant. So was her adjutant. Barbro looked at him closely. His armor was sundered, and though the wound had been mended, what had spilled had yet to be cleaned. Renner kept casting furtive glances at him.

    Is she unable to restrain herself? I¡­ That no-blood actually fought. Jelka didn¡¯t make mention of it, but that Count said he was responsible for driving off an attacker. Did he dare raise his sword against my man?

    Barbro took a step forward, then another. Pushing past a knight, he caught Climb¡¯s eyes. His face twitched, quickly turning into a grimace. Renner noticed Barbro¡¯s approach a moment later, turning her gaze low, gripping Climb¡¯s right forearm as she slunk behind him.

    ¡°You engaged in combat tonight. Who was it with?¡±

    Climb remained silent. His face twitched more, right eye fluttering. An odd clinking noise filled his ears, one he could not place.

    ¡°Tell me boy. Whom was it you fought?¡±

    Barbro realized that Climb gaze was not simply angry, but baleful. His eyes moved slowly down Climb¡¯s form, he realized that the sound was from the plates of his armor; Climb¡¯s entire body was shaking, quaking badly enough to be audible. Drawing his eyes leftward, he realized that his sister¡¯s knuckles were bone white, and that her arms were shuddering from exertion.

    She¡¯s holding him back as hard as she can. She knows, they both know. He would draw his sword? He would attack me here?

    ¡°Your Highness, I have already spoken to the Adjutant Guard of the Princess. He protected her highness from an assassin.¡±

    Barbro snapped his head back. Lakyus had turned up from the table entirely, burning holes in him with her gaze. Not only that, but her two companions were doing the same.

    ¡°The assailant was robed, Climb did not see his face.¡±

    Is that true? Then¡­ no. Did a separate Eight Fingers man come for her? That doesn¡¯t make sense. None of this makes sense.

    ¡°I want to hear that from him.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, I would not pester your sister any more. She has seen enough tonight, do not make her a target of your ire.¡±

    ¡°I am allowed to ask any question of my sister or my sister¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°And I am of my rights to admonish you for any such action or outburst.¡±

    ¡°I am the Crown Prince.¡±

    ¡°Do not think me ignorant of the order of succession, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°You would dare-¡±

    ¡°I would. Leave her be.¡±

    Barbro¡¯s words died in his throat. He tried to summon a retort, but simply couldn¡¯t. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that she had driven him off from the princess, and turned back to the table.

    I don¡¯t understand any of tonight. Is Climb just angry because I struck her? She- She deserved that! She and her- her useless crying. She has done nothing with her life and yet- and yet she constantly draws the attention of those around her. Even the attention of a warrioress like Aindra. I don¡¯t understand it! On this night of death and¡­ and¡­

    The room shrunk further, Barbro not understanding why things suddenly felt so tight.

    Twelve men. Five Knights of the palace. Three of the Royal Guard. Illira. Galdra. Nunic. Brendel too. I remember when he first taught me to swing a sword. This- this isn¡¯t what I wanted. I just wanted my father to- to¡­ to give up his crown. I just wanted the crown. That¡¯s all I wanted. This isn¡¯t my fault. There¡¯s no way- this was Bolloupe¡¯s fault! He¡­ He tricked me! How could this happen?!

    He wanted to leave the room. He took a step, but was overwhelmed by his nausea. He gagged, trying his best to hold back vomit. Despite himself, he started to shake slightly.

    I can¡¯t be blamed for this. Gods. I didn¡¯t do this. I wouldn¡¯t do this. I couldn¡¯t do this. I¡¯m a loyal son- I¡¯m a loyal son who would never betray his father. I am the Crown Prince. I am the Sword of the Kingdom. I am a loyal son!

    Barbro keeled over and vomited.

    ¡ª

    Zanac watched his brother empty his stomach onto the ground. He did not feel disgust, nor shock. Only envy, for he wished desperately to do the same.

    Thirty-six dead. Gods. Thirty-six lives snuffed out. Thirty-six families absent their sons, brothers, and fathers. What the fuck have I done? Why didn¡¯t I speak?

    Zanac struggled to piece together his reaction earlier in the night. He had simply walked to a common space and sat there until the violence had bid him away. He had not spoken to anyone the words of his brother. He had not alerted the guard, he had not cried danger, he had not warned his father.

    It was cowardice. Cowardice plain and simple. I, Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, am a coward. Better than being a traitor, but the distinction tonight is mute. Had I spoken to Jelka, I could have prevented this, or put the palace at a greater alert. I could have saved lives.

    Barbro drew himself up, fighting back another wretch. He failed, doubling over and loosing its contents a second time. In error, he covered his mouth, only serving to backsplash his bile onto his shirt. Zanac turned his head slightly, mind snagging on the detail. Barbro was not expelling food, or drink, but only the raw fluids of his insides. He had not partaken in any of the latter part of the feast, and then again failed to do so in the interim between that and his warning to Zanac.

    How the fuck can he¡­ Is he disgusted with himself? I don¡¯t understand. How the fuck can he have the gall to feel guilt? To regret this, after he caused the deaths of thirty-six? You dare to feel regret!? Remorse, after you conspire to kill our father? After you plot to seize this nation and sell off portions of it to your conspirators? You killed those men! They are dead because of you, because you chose to conspire with Bolloupe and his rats. To think I am your sibling! To think I share a mother and father with you! That the same blood runs through our veins. I hate you. I have never felt hate like this in my life. You, brother, are an evil man; are a wicked thing befitting every spat title one could place on your head. You are no demon or devil, but Gods know you are one of their lackeys. Call me a coward, and by all rights I am, but I do not find myself ill at my own treason.

    He broke forward, hobbling out of the room with a smattering of confused Knights in tow. Vena had been standing at the side of his father, and seeing Barbro¡¯s sickness, sighed and followed after him. Somehow, through the turmoil of the night, she had managed to maintain her hairdo.

    She seems immune to the course of the night. She¡¯s stronger than me. She always has been. I have no doubt about that with how she manages to push around Pespea. Here she is, the first night of a return to her first home, one that had been bathed in blood. Somehow, she manages to sustain herself. To chase after and run down our brother. Maybe it''s something in the character of women that allows them to do that. What of her, then?

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Zanac rotated his gaze slowly, finding his younger sister still attached to the side of her bodyguard. He watched her start to move forward, before halting herself. It was hard to blame her.

    To think that he struck her. As if you were to take every oft-repeated trait of cruel men and combine them. How hard is it to control such an outburst? She just ran to you, correct? He¡¯s never heeded my warnings about her. There¡¯s no way he saw through her act and did so from actual defensive posture; that was simple, straight malice on his part. I wonder what she thinks of tonight, what that inner world of hers has constructed from this event. That''s what she is, right? A masked being. Something that pretends to be whole. It''s as if, one day, she decided to be a person. I wonder how deep that persona runs, if she has become her mask; if what she did to herself was more holistic than I thought. Wait, she was a target of Barbro¡¯s wrath too.

    It had slipped his mind, another terrifying and foul part of the proceedings. The thing snapped into being immediately into his mind, and while he could understand his failure to notice, he could not forgive it.

    Does she know it? What would she do if she knew? It would be what she always does when she knows things, act as if she doesn¡¯t know. It''s impossible to tell, then. Back to the starting position with her every time. If doesn¡¯t know, then all the little movements of hers make sense. A perfectly caring and forgiving princess willing to throw herself into the arms of her brother even as he scorns her. If she knows, then she¡¯s a horror beyond reckoning. How can she stand there and pretend otherwise? This can¡¯t be an act, it''s too clean. Too raw. The jumps of her posture, the way she hides behind others. I don¡¯t understand her.

    A figure approached Renner from the other side, one Zanac recognized as LordKeveleos.

    He was the one that saved her, dragging her and Climb to safe haven. He¡¯ll earn accolades for that. I wonder if father will hand out titles for tonight? Likely not, but words, yes.

    ¡°Your Highness, as to what we discussed earlier.¡±

    ¡°Oh, horse riding instruction Count? Yes, I would love to! A casual jaunt in the countryside would be lovely, though now that it comes to me, we may need to replan the date. All else ¡®cept ¡®scape stands as well.¡±

    ¡°Yes, o-of course.¡±

    How does she have the capacity to socialize? To¡­ to speak so casually. No wonder she so often finds the company of Lakyus. She¡¯s indomitable. What does it say that she- no, both my sisters seem to be handling this better than I? That Renner remains conversational with our contemporaries, and maintains her duties as Princess. She¡¯s soaked in the blood of her darling, and yet she speaks like it''s nothing. Her brother struck her across the face earlier, continues to harang her for no clear reason, and yet she bears it all the same. She¡¯s like Vena in that regard.

    He turned, and for a moment, Zanac caught his gaze in the way that one risks when they stare at another. His eyes were filled with terror.

    He¡¯s scared. Why is he scared of her? Is she truly acting? What double meaning could those words possibly have? How do you even manage to scare your own rescuer? She is acting. That¡¯s the only way his fear makes sense. She is what I think her to be, something afield of sense and rational thought. When the Gods fashioned the world and began to entome the souls that would populate it, one must have spilled their ink bottle on her page. She¡¯s soulless.

    Zanac had a sudden urge to not look at anything at all. He closed his eyes, and did his best to drown out the rest of his senses. The faces of the dead he knew, and the accountings of others stood at the forefront of his mind. He slowed his breathing, which over the course of the last few minutes, had grown to near hysterical pace. He found himself filled with a sense of purpose, one he had not known before.

    I can¡¯t let something like this happen again. I must prevent Barbro from taking the throne.

    ¡ª

    Two score and a shallow dozen bound for the grave. The mind boggles, no? The undertakers are to be busy tonight then; perhaps burial is too consumptive of their time? They might as well drag out the dead onto the palace lawn and raze the lot at once. Let''s throw a few more onto the pyre. Tac one for brother-dearest¡¯s man, another for his image; speaking of images, we might as well set alight the whole of Re-Estize; add to that my decrepit act which fell apart an uncountable number of times and we tally¡­ forty? An auspicious number, surely the Gods are kicking themselves laughing at the brilliance of their infusion. Oh! Count another for my innocence; after all, what princess could bear seeing an empty vessel? Thus, forty-one.

    Renner suppressed a laugh, knowing it was the worst of times to let one slip.

    Ah, no more time for jest. What happened tonight is completely nonsensical, at least on its face. Valencia is supposed to be secure, layered walls and staggered defenses, with three - often four - distinct custodial forces crawling in every nook. Yet, with a sequence of stout jabs - and a modest handful of traitors - this fortress broke at the knees; without the intervention, it would have been decapitated. I suppose everyone supposed security in these halls. Interesting.

    Change to material concerns. Brendel dead? Shame, that. Out of any loss, that will sting the most. Having to rebuild a relationship will be time consuming, and courier is a difficult job to say the least. That sort of work requires vigor, cunning, and a suspicious nature. I wonder who will get promoted next? Maybe Theiern would transfer one of his men; one of them would be ideal to say the least. Theiern in general ought to reap the spoils of tonight; alas, he won¡¯t. Won¡¯t escape the gaol that is Urovana¡¯s demesne. If only we had more men like him, I doubt tonight would have occurred as it has even with Barbro¡¯s treason. I don¡¯t see why Jelka is so consigning himself to failure at this. I suppose it''s a shame on his part, but I haven''t the faintest idea why. There was nothing he could have done. Talent seems consigned to throw itself out. There was no one else of note.

    Ah, no there was. A pretention of royalty creeping round and covering my vision. Keldan Ehkan died. That will have consequences for the cohesion of palace staff and its defensive readiness, but more importantly, Climb. He seemed to shield Climb from the worst abuses of his fellow low-bloods. After I got him his room, they became far crueler to him; my undoubtable favoritism promoting jealousy and discord. With this, they¡¯ll force him out entirely and deeper into my grasp. How lucky.

    That such a thing could come to pass in the first place, what does it speak to the strength of the Kingdom? Surely some of it was previously assumed to be false, but now it feels like the whole structure will come down with a swift kick. That¡¯s what Barbro¡¯s ascent would be; a final, fatal, creep of mold and rot up a beam. House Vaiself to twist in on itself and fold over. That¡¯s almost what happened, but the foulest of our blood managed to take nothing along with it when it collapsed.

    Things will breed in the wake of tonight. There has been turmoil in the reign of my father, but not this character - not since his assent, at least. Skulkwork violence against the crown, disconcerting. It''s as if we¡¯re bidding forward the dark places of the world, no?

    There is luster in the black, shining specks in the depths of the sky. Motes of joy, advancements found from tonight. Barbro¡¯s hands will never touch the crown; mine will find their way to Zanac. I was not wrong earlier, though perhaps absent a truer characterization. Honest men will reap gains tonight, but it is those like me that will find harvests. Those like Keveleos. What a wondrous thing. The dawn will be warm, but there will be no light.

    Renner cast her gaze back to Climb, admiring the wonder of his form. He had defended her, throwing his person into a mortal duel to prevent hers from being threatened. He was still slick with his exertion, hair furled and completely unkempt. His breathing was labored, still reeling from the encounter with Barbro. Her eyes drifted down his side, spying the skin of his flank through the gap in his armor. She watched it flex as his chest pumped air in and out, visible cuts in his muscle. In this moment, he was not simply attractive, but was devilishly so. She could prevent herself from biting her lip, but not from blushing. After a moment, she twitched her mouth and inhaled in realization, another fruit of her drunkenness returning to her.

    I told him I loved him, didn¡¯t I?

    ¡ª

    Daybreak cast the world in hues anew, the yellow halo of a sun ripe for the breaking coloring the sky as umbra was forced west. The beauty of its rise would become apparent in a few minutes, setting the vault of the heavens ablaze in oranges, purples, and blues alike. Yet, Hilma could not think to admire it, nor could she be bothered to so much as care, not turning to look at it. This, for she had failed.

    Eighty. Fifty in armor alone. Another one per each set of equipment and armament. That¡¯s just the average, deploying those magic casters took three each, four if you count the scrolls. Other costs included paying off the death spreading brigade, running intelligence on personnel and positions. Transit. Eighty. Eighty fucking standards.

    Her arms were resting on a railing, her leaning over it and looking at the water below. She was on one of the stone arch bridges that crossed the river cutting through the Capital. This particular bridge was around a hundred paces end to end, and ran nearly directly north-south. Flotsam washed by, a branch with leaves still attached drifting into and out of sight.

    That can¡¯t include everything either. Lost training, talent. Who knows what they¡¯ll pull out of the prisoners they''ve taken. My losses from this will probably be double. That¡¯s¡­ a five figure total in gold. Seventy-thousand, Gods above. Only about twenty of that is liquid expense. The rest will come in capital and lost revenue. If the Blue Roses get the locations of fields or hubs and Greed Kings know they will, inflow will be cut bad.

    Hilma pushed herself off the railing, turning in place to watch the clatter of horse drawn carts behind her. Most wagons were half empty, wholesale suppliers having already sold their stock to merchants. Bundles of barley and wheat, raw ore and cut stone, even ice-traders looking to capitalize on the heat of the day to come. She pulled her mouth to the side, the sight not helping to assuage her fears of economic devastation.

    I probably won¡¯t hit half of my usual revenue. I¡¯ll be crunched, need to limit outflow before things can recover. I¡¯ll run rolling delays on payments and bribes, make sure no mark goes without a month of- no, if I¡¯m shrewd, I can cut that down to three weeks. Of course, that just leaves everyone pissed at me, so maybe I keep some going and cut others off entirely. Loans are going to be an immediate stopgap. I¡¯ll force Banking to lend to me even if I need to do it at swordpoint. What the fuck went wrong?

    She looked to her left and saw a man approaching. Around his neck he wore a verdant blue symbol. She clicked her tongue. The events of the night made no sense to Hilma. All the parts she had fretted the most-for went without a hitch. Jelka had bought their reports without question; Gazef had left the side of Ramposa; her forces had avoided discovery entirely, and entered Valencia without raising an alarm. News of their entry was the last progress report she had received. As the night drew on without contact, she had gone from elated, to tepid, to nervous, to panicked, to depressed. Now, seeing her enemy approach, she felt only resignation.

    I name you¡­ Alac Resenen Pell Keveleos. Count. Leader of the Eight Fingers Council.

    ¡°I always thought that amulet meant you were a member of the church.¡±

    ¡°That was the idea.¡±

    ¡°What, so you''re a heretic hiding behind a faith? All those times you cited scripture in meetings was bullshit?¡±

    ¡°I hold my beliefs dearly and sincerely.¡±

    And yet you use them to deceive others? Fucking hypocrite.

    Hilma could not help but feel baleful, feeling an anger that was only half-performative. She was incensed, thinking of all the money she had spent not only on raiding Valencia, but on trying to identify the shadowy head of their organization. Now, on the worst dawn of her life, he came out of hiding. It was as if he was taunting her. She broached first.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want a war.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re of a mind then.¡±

    ¡°I need territory, I don¡¯t want no middling bullshit where my requests for land get rejected on the basis of stability. Four hundred additional acres in the south.¡±

    ¡°You think you¡¯re in a position to bargain?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if I am. I¡¯m going to be crunched hard from every direction. Who knows what sort of retaliation is going to be coming from that Aindra will mount?¡±

    And Theiern, too. How the fuck did he survive?! After the king, the largest contingent went after him! Gods above. He¡¯ll run my men right through. I¡¯ll have his rangers crawling up my fucking walls if I¡¯m not careful.

    Keveleos chuckled despondently, before looking out over the river.

    ¡°You¡¯re delusional.¡±

    ¡°Say what you will. I fold, you can¡¯t possibly repossess my assets in time. The entire Division would fall apart. Maybe, just maybe, my capos don¡¯t disintegrate into a mess; but their underlings? You¡¯re going to have a hundred separate local organizations in a month. Distribution networks would fall apart. You talk about not wanting a war? You would have a gang in every fucking town running each other through on the street. You¡¯re talking thousands turned out and leaderless. Worse, you think the crackdown coming now will be bad? You don¡¯t want to fucking imagine what would come in the wake of this. Do you know how much I manage? No one, not a damn person is capable of running this business like I can. I have suppliers from every end of this fucking country. Hell, from beyond too. I need capital to bear this shock. I need fields that I can sow now. They need to be fresh, they need to be clean. Everything I have now is hot. Do you understand that? Everything, fucking everything. Every single Laira field in the whole of the Kingdom is hot.¡±

    ¡°So what do you want to do about it?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to release the holdings you¡¯ve been safeguarding for Banking back into their possession, and I am going to lend from it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you think that is.¡±

    ¡°Not enough, but you¡¯ll do it. That means confidence in the whole division. Other leaders will do the exact same. I will too. Then, that pool of coin will be enough.¡±

    ¡°And what if you can¡¯t pay it back?¡±

    ¡°Do you think I would make that mistake? No, actually, do you think you could force me to make repayment anyway?¡±

    ¡°I thought you said you didn¡¯t want a war. Why are you threatening to start one?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not, and I don¡¯t. These are the terms, you want a unified syndicate, this is the only way you¡¯re going to get it

    Silence hung between them for a time, Hilma pulling a puff from her pipe.

    ¡°I have terms of my own.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    ¡°Twenty-percent of your net come fall.¡±

    ¡°Ten.¡±

    ¡°Twenty.¡±

    ¡°Ten.¡±

    ¡°Twenty.¡±

    ¡°Fifteen.¡±

    ¡°Eighteen.¡±

    ¡°Seventeen.¡±

    ¡°Done. Seventeen. That¡¯s separate from your loan payments.¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Further, cut payments to the Crown Prince.¡±

    ¡°Why? He¡¯s a mark we¡¯ve worked for years.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a toxic asset. One we need to dump immediately.¡±

    ¡°Are you suggesting we throw our weight behind the second prince? Not that he needs any more of it.¡±

    ¡°You must understand, as a noble, I¡¯d much rather serve under a King Valleon than a King Andrean.¡±

    ¡°That''s it?¡±

    ¡°Do you assent to that?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Do you agree to cut payment?¡±

    ¡°Gods above, what are you going to do? Fund another coup? I just did that and it didn¡¯t fucking work.¡±

    ¡°I need assurance on this point, Cygnaeus.¡±

    He¡¯s offering more resistance to this than he did for a cut of my profit. Why? I can¡¯t think of a reason. It¡¯s not a bad idea to stop anyway, that man is a fucking idiot.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll cut payments to Barbro. Permanently?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Let me ask again, is that all?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Keveleos turned back to her, and extended his hand, palm open.

    ¡°To peace in our time.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s from the scriptures?¡±

    ¡°From the Aquateuch. Book of Clarity, Five-Seventeen.¡±

    A sliver of light appeared crept above the horizon, mixing layers of air causing its form to shimmer and bead. Hilma thought for a moment, before extending her arm to grip his. Their hands slipped into each other, palms touching. They shook.

    ¡°To peace in our time.¡±

    ¡ª

    Book of Clarity, 5:15

    When He of the Clearwater arrived in the valley, he found a great many people spread between the cities of the land, in wide fields clear of obstruction and demi-human. Its fields were plentiful, the orchards abundant in apples and other sweet things. He traveled the places of the land. Of the rivers of the land, there were two. The first was great, and plentiful of fish. The second was small, the earthworks of irrigation that it fed cracked and desiccated.

    He turned to his followers and spake unto them: As one river recedes, the other must grow. As the enemies and monsters of the world recede, humanity must grow. This world is given unto you. Take its bounty and guard zealous your waters. Take heed. Wise is the man who does not abandon his fields at the sign of its receding. The lands of man and beast will change hands again and again. Keep patience, and you will keep your lands.

    Of the forests of the land, there were three. First was a grand forest, its trees strong and so wide around that ten men would need to hold arms linked to circumscribe it. Second was a lesser forest, its trees were smaller, yet would not sway in the wind. Third was a small grove, its trees young and immature. They let themselves become battered in the wind.

    He turned to his followers and spake unto them: The foolish man will harvest only from the first forest, and tend only to the second. Harvesting from the strongest and oldest of trees. He will live out his life, and when he gives over his ax to his son, his son will harvest only from the second forest. His son will hand over his ax to his son, and when he comes to harvest from the third forest, he will see that it has died, and that his harvests are empty. The wise man will tend to the third forest. He and his lineage will know prosperity.

    Book of Clarity, 5:16

    Of the cities of the land, there were four. First was the city of Jedeth, its people great miners and workers of stone. Second was the city of Kirakul, home of six great wonders. Third was the city of Grin, its astrologers keeping great and detailed accounts of the stars and their meanings. Fourth was the city of Zekzel, a place of only wickedness and vile things.

    When He came to the city of Zekzel, He saw their ways and marked them as vile and wrong. On the first day of His coming, He walked into the city square, and spake unto the crowd that gathered:

    You must stop your doings, for you sin against I. These laws are those which are required for the dark powers to never again take this world. You must keep clarity of mind and spirit. Do not allow darkness into your midst. For those of you who deal in secret things, who make deals with monsters, thou shalt become monstrous. Thou shalt be cleansed at all times. There are many types of peace to be found. The land will know peace either when its people are valiant, when their souls are clear. The land will also know peace when it knows no people.

    They said to Him that they could not change their ways, for it was those that brought food to their mouths and provided them prosperity. They laughed at Him, and called him a fool. He left, and on the second day, returned, and gave His warning again. They laughed again, refusing to change from their path of wickedness. On the third day, He came again, and spake again. This time, He said that this would be His last coming, and that all those valiant and clear should leave the city. Of all the people of the city, only one heeded His warning, a girl. Her in arm, He left the city.

    Book of Clarity, 5:17

    When He reached the hill outside the city, He stepped upon its highest ridge, and turned to Zekzel. He raised His arms high above His head, and snapped his fingers. The city, all its inhabitants, even the animals in the air and those in its river turned to salt. He snapped His fingers again, and a great storm brewed in the sky. It rained so hard and so terribly that all the salt melted into the water and washed away. The river of the land was filled with salt, and it became unto those who tasted it like the water of the ocean. When the storm broke, the city of Zekzel, all its inhabitants, even the animals in the air and those in its river were gone. He turned and spake unto those who had gathered:

    To peace in our time.

    ¡ª

    A taloned hand finished scribbling its notes, and closed the cover on the book in front of him.

    Most certainly beings on the order of those that our master fought. It is one thing to destroy a city of humans, it is another entirely to do so in such a poetic fashion, to inscribe it in scripture and grand tales such as this. I will need to obtain an older copy, to cross compare; see what they¡¯ve edited and removed. Perhaps I will write such destructions anew in his name. What a wonderful thing that would be.

    He reached his hand up and adjusted his glasses.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (1)

    White banks of clouds hung languidly in the air. The sky was its typical azure, though Vena saw little of it in between the flutters of her eyelids. Her eyes were only half open, and though the sun was not quite near its zenith; most of what she spied were the warm tones of sunlight diffusing through flesh. She was flush to the palace lawn, hands folded behind her head, laced betwixt the locks of her golden hair. The grass tickled her slightly, and thought she had no doubt that she had ruined her dress - at least until she could find someone to cast cleaning magic - she couldn''t bring herself to care.

    I should have slept a few hours ago. There was a window of time in the predawn. It would have been a miserable morning, even getting up at midday, but it would be better than this. Now, I¡¯ll have to make it all the way till sundown.

    She heard someone approach, but she didn¡¯t bother turning her head. They closed in and stopped over her. She was laying with her head pointed south, so closing her dexter eye to block the sun, she opened her other to see her sister looking down. Her dress was the same as it had been the night before, still fouled with the blood of her bodyguard.

    ¡°Sister.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t your husband going to want you by his side through this?¡±

    ¡°So what? He can go scream his heart out into a well for all I care.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come by later. Now, I just want to look at the clouds. Sit.¡±

    ¡°I have to attend-¡±

    ¡°Father can stand to have you leave his side for a time. Gods know there¡¯s a hundred men-at-arms between you and I right now and any danger.¡±

    ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°I know you have your sense of duty and all, I do too. That said, no one is going to fault you for letting a little off your shoulders right now. No one is going to fault me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d make a guildmaster quake in their boots with how you negotiate.¡±

    ¡°I have.¡±

    Renner giggled, and after a few moments of fretting on how she was to lower herself onto the grass in a dignified way, gave up and simply plopped down. Leniya let her head fall to her left, watching Renner as she snuggled into the earth. She was still for a time, before splaying herself out a little and letting herself relax against the grass. A half mournful smile appeared on her face.

    ¡°This is nice. I haven¡¯t had the chance to do this since I was a girl.¡±

    It took Vena a few moments to realize the oddity in Renner¡¯s statement.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t laid out on the grass like this since childhood?¡±

    ¡°At least since I was ten. Why?¡±

    Aren¡¯t you living a child¡¯s life here? Unmarried at¡­ Gods, sixteen?

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t wish to cause trouble for father.¡±

    ¡°This would cause-¡±

    Vena cut herself off, pulling her mouth to the side as she realized the foolishness of her question.

    I forget how things are for her. She¡¯s the only princess in the palace now. No sharing of duties between us three, she has to do it all. Actually, with her epithet now, she is a political entity too.

    ¡°You understand, yes?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    She¡¯s dull, but I can¡¯t fault her for that. She has her sense of duty, and she¡¯s not going to cause any controversies willingly. I¡¯ve always wondered why father let her go unmarried. Is that part of it? It was strange, when I first married Pespea, she was still that taciturn and dour little girl. When the proceedings ended and I was able to visit the palace¡­ oh, a year later? No, it was shorter than that, six months, it was like someone had outright replaced her. She suddenly sharpened up and started acting her part. I wonder why that was. Actually, I wonder if that will happen again when she gets married.

    ¡°Sister?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°On the topic of marriage, has father given you any indication of who you are to bond with?¡±

    ¡°I get to choose.¡±

    What?! Why does- How is that fair? Gods, she¡¯s always been the favorite hasn¡¯t she? The youngest darling. Here we have the youngest and the prettiest of us, and she finds herself halfway through her teens without a hint of coming bondage?

    Vena closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. It was no time to lose herself to anger, and she forced herself to calm down. Her sudden burst of what - to her - a base rage demoralized Vena, and she felt the need to bay it back. In a moment, only the shadow of her ire remained, a hollow shame she felt no need to deny.

    No, that¡¯s unfair to her, and I know it. She didn¡¯t have a choice in the matter. Not like she made father favor her. Besides, had I been given the choice, I would have done exactly what she has. Avoid the hand of a suitor for as long as possible. Stay in the palace for even longer. It makes sense. I just wish I had been given the opportunity to do it. Maybe she¡¯s witful on this topic in a way. She saw what happened with Lulara, father marrying her off to some no-name- no, unknown-name who has done nothing but keep her secreted away in his demesne. For what cause? Who knows.

    Ah, perhaps this is why father hasn¡¯t pushed her hand. He doesn¡¯t want a repeat of Lulara''s fate. I was lucky, I was married to a Marquis, one of the six great houses. Renner won¡¯t be able to obtain such a marriage like that. Far too old for the sorts of terms that I was married under. Shame, she deserves better. I suppose I was wrong earlier, too. Some sought her hand at that birthday of hers, at least that¡¯s the gossip. Now that¡¯s a benefit I didn¡¯t want to give up; it takes so long for information to end up where we live. Here in the capital it''s a same day, same hour affair.

    Eyes closed, Vena drew her mouth to the side. She found her emotions hard to form into words, fending off an unearned envy. She was the first princess, and yet to have the third live such with such cavileer privilege that she was not afforded was grating. She couldn¡¯t hold to those feelings however, and her thoughts drifted away from her sister onto the cause of their sojourn to the lawn.

    Speaking of which, this crisis is going to be bad. A sort of severity that we haven¡¯t seen since before I was born. Father has dealt with things like this, right? There was turmoil during his ascent. That dangerous and disgusting business with those Drell up north. My entire life that was something at question. At least Theiern dealt with that. I¡¯m terrified to think what sort of turmoil would spark up north if- was it the Grayguard who did this? It could be. Maybe¡­ maybe they were in league with the Noble faction, or maybe the Empire! Zurrenorn maybe? How terrifying to think that cult of¡­ of¡­ grave-robbing bone-wielding fiends could have done this. I-I hope not! I¡¯ll ask my dearest what he thinks. About this ¡°Black Night.¡±

    ¡°What did you think about last night? Some vengeance of those coffin fetishizing ne''er do wells?¡±

    No response came. Vena let a tinge of annoyance creep into her voice.

    ¡°Oh so you¡¯re not-¡±

    Vena opened her eyes to look at her sister, wondering what flit she had in her mind to ignore a sibling. Renner, for her part, was already fast asleep. Vena went mouth agape, and she blanched.

    And just like that, she¡¯s out. There was an attempt on her life last night, and yet she falls asleep just like that. Hasn¡¯t she a care in the world?

    After a time, she closed it and huffily looked back upward at the sky. The formations of clouds had moved, dragged along by the wind and the yet to break heat.

    No, it''s not that she¡¯s uncaring. She just has complete faith in those around her, doesn¡¯t she?

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    ¡°Did you see his face?¡±

    ¡°He was wearing his helmet.¡±

    ¡°He was wearing his helm, sir.¡±

    ¡°So you didn¡¯t see his face?¡±

    ¡°N-no, sir.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±

    ¡°Jackass. Of course you would be certain. What sort of question is that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°How did the fight start?¡±

    ¡°Tell him what happened.¡±

    ¡°I was leaving her room to-¡±

    ¡°You left her side?¡±

    ¡°You left her side?¡±

    ¡°There was no Knight stationed, sir, so I was going to assume duties for the night.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help you here kid, come up with something believable.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not coming up with anything!¡±

    ¡°Tell that to him.¡±

    ¡°And why did that mean you needed to leave her side?¡±

    ¡°I needed to drink, eat, and relieve myself, sir.¡±

    ¡°If you were capable of driving him off, clearly you were battle-ready as is.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I hate people like this.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want my fighting ability to be reduced in any way, sir¡±

    ¡°Alright. Continue.¡±

    ¡°As I was leaving, I saw him at the other end of the corridor-¡±

    ¡°The one that extends along the former rooms of highnesses Vena and Lulara?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. I watched him approach from the other side, and I noticed he was in armor.¡±

    ¡°Did you hark him then?¡±

    ¡°No sir, I assumed he was a man of the palace.¡±

    ¡°When did you engage him?¡±

    ¡°After he had passed me by, I realized what I saw was wrong. I stopped and turned around, he did too.¡±

    ¡°You drew then?¡±

    ¡°He did first, sir.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s unacceptable. Climb, you have a duty to be suspicious. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    Though he was a Knight-Sargent, Donovan Graves was not born a highblood. Like most men under Theiern, he had been a peasant volunteer who had earned his title and land through the pacifications conducted across Urovana¡¯s demesne. Thus, far more than he respected station or rank, he desired results.

    ¡°Look, I know what they do. The ways they limit you. At every step of your life, you¡¯ve been taught not to doubt them because they¡¯re superior to you. Yes?

    ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    ¡°You have a duty to her. That duty means ignoring them. That duty means spurring, investigating, challenging those who come near without hesitation.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    ¡°They will stand between you, and your objective, at every turn. Be ruthless, be cunning. Do you understand? Her safety is absolute.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir. I¡¯ve felt that way my whole life sir.¡±

    ¡°Good. Continue.¡±

    ¡°I charged first, and we locked blades. He tried to jump back and the carpet fell out from under us. We wrestled on the ground, and I managed to get around between him and the Princess. He got up and pressed an attack, slipping a jab through. I was wounded, and he got around me a second time. I attacked with a wide swing, and wounded him. After that, he¡­¡±

    ¡°Ran off. He ran off.¡±

    ¡°...retreated¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t pursue?¡±

    ¡°No sir. I wanted to get her highness out of danger as soon as possible.¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Good, there¡¯s a chance that was a baiting tactic. Some ambusher waiting in either of the other rooms waiting for you to leave.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes sir.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I''ll pass this to Marshall Theiern. Climb?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir?¡±

    ¡°Good work.¡±

    ¡°And just like that, you¡¯ve been cleared of killing Barbro¡¯s man. Good job kid.¡±

    Climb felt the message link dissolve, Evileye severing the connection. She had been guiding him through almost every encounter that night, helping him to keep his story straight. It had been hard at first, learning how to talk inwardly and outwardly at once - he stumbled over his words several times. In order, he was approached by a disgraced Jelka himself, then a quizzical Keveleos, then Helgrave¡¯s man Eida, then Vice-Captain Velthrop of the Warrior-Troop, and now finally Graves. About by the third of such interrogations, he had gotten used to the feeling, and was able to bear speaking in such a fashion without issue. With her at his side, he had first blundered, then lurched, then adequately navigated his way through escalating suspicion. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was rote memorization, or some deeper advancements of his skills, but none-the-less, Climb was learning to lie.

    Feel like I could bluster my way through anything now.

    He was unsure how to feel, a luminant kernel of pride lingering in every one of his tepid thoughts. He had killed a man, yet he had done it in the service of Renner. He was lying about said killing, yet he was doing it in the service of Renner. He had fought and won his first duel in defense of her, though to those around him it seemed like he had simply earned a draw. That he would also drag Renner - a paragon of honesty, kindheartedness, and solemn duty to the Kingdom - into his lie, even if it was for her safety. That Renner was not only his charge, but now someone he knew to be in love with him complicated things further.

    Things are different now. She¡¯s in love with me, and I for her. It feels strange to say that. I never thought my life would be this complex. So much to think about. Are things going to stay like this?

    The longer he thought about it, the more he convinced himself of the act¡¯s valiance. He turned round, seeking his mistress. He was on one of Valencia¡¯s patios, along with dozens of other men-at-arms and their commanders. The decision had already been made to delay the general council until the eighteenth, giving houses the time to reform their ranks. The general mood was gloomy with an undercurrent of bloodlust; a sense hung in the air that a declaration of war was imminent, be it sent from or delivered to Arwintar. He could not pick her from the crowd around him, his chest tightening.

    Where did she go?

    Looking a second time, spinning round faster and with a more attentive gaze. She had been socializing when he last let his vision drift off of her; now, he deeply regretted doing so. As he opened his mouth to speak and widened his eyes to look, he found her. She had snuck off, lying with her sister Vena on the palace lawn but thirty paces away. It was a sight that he should have found horribly endearing, yet he could summon no such perception. All he felt was the pounding of his heart slowly abate, and a brewing nausea deep in her stomach.

    Gods, I¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ Its stupid but I¡­

    Climb was of half a mind to go and charge up to her, demanding she stay by his side. He took a step, then stopped, again thrusting himself into an external perception of himself. For the first time in his life, he was not simply aware of the morally correct actions to take; he felt truly image-conscious.

    I owe her my service. My life. Not anger.

    ¡°You okay kid?¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound like it.¡±

    ¡°No, really, I¡¯m alright.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s safe.¡±

    ¡°I know. I know.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let her go, you understand that?¡±

    Climb blushed at Evileye¡¯s imposition.

    ¡°She isn¡¯t¡­ um-¡±

    ¡°Yours to hold onto. Maybe invert that, then. Don¡¯t wiggle out of her grasp.¡±

    Do you really have to say that?!

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Still, I understand your reaction. Mighty brave of her to plop down and sleep like that.¡±

    Climb thought for a moment, then cocked his head. To him, it seemed as if Renner was simply laying down with Vena. How Evileye could tell she was asleep was a mystery.

    How could she know that?

    ¡°She¡¯s asleep?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well, mm¡­¡±

    Evileye didn¡¯t give a response, simply letting her words die in her mouth. Climb thought to push, but was unable to find words that would sound non-confrontational. He was struck suddenly in his backside, a slap that jarred him.

    ¡°Oy, virgin. You got your pretty-boy armor all beat up. Don¡¯t take care of your gifts huh?¡±

    ¡°Stop harassing the ¡®pretty-boy.¡¯¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t harass, I uplift. I make men feel special. I¡¯ll just take him home.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t take home what¡¯s not yours.¡±

    Climb was set spinning in internal turmoils anew, his face blushing even worse than before. Lakyus walked up, somehow ignoring the assaults of her comrades on Climb¡¯s psyche.

    ¡°Shut it.¡±

    ¡°Yes boss.¡±

    ¡°Yes boss.¡±

    ¡°Climb, we¡¯ll send in that to be reforged, but we¡¯ll likely need to strip some material off.¡±

    ¡°You will, L-lady Aindra?¡±

    ¡°Yes, portions of it could be too brittle to be worked.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Evileye has, uh-¡±

    ¡°Some new thoughts on mithraloid crystal formation under turbulent arcanic and ?theric conditions. Possible there¡¯s an undiscovered solid phase for the material.¡±

    I have no clue what she¡¯s talking about - worse than that physician. Magic is so complicated sometimes. Feels like there are a dozen new words I hear every time I speak to her. Actually, there probably are a dozen new words. I recognize ¡°?ther¡± from earlier but I have no clue what it means.

    ¡°Uhh-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask, you won¡¯t understand. Actually, Climb, stand still.¡±

    ¡°Okay?¡±

    Evileye raised her right hand. As she did so, her arm came out of her cloak, her once solid black underlayer scorched and burned through. Climb could see flesh underneath, skin that he, until now, had never spied nor known of. She snapped her finger. Climb¡¯s armor suddenly shined an iridescent blue, a number of bright motes spilling off of its creases and corners. They poured off of him like a decade¡¯s worth of dust, dissolving into the air.

    ¡°A walking battery. Would you look at that?¡±

    Climb watched in wonderment as the shed magical excitations faded away, caught in swirls and patterns that seemed to suddenly shift in odd geometric angles. His thoughts were still caught in the wake of the night, and he turned his self-critical thoughts to the site in front of him. He was struck with an idea.

    She can do anything with magic, can¡¯t she? Throw fireballs, shoot lightning, teleport great distances, even fly, right? What if I could do that? How less close would that fight have been?

    ¡°Lady¡­ Evileye?¡±

    Ask her to teach me the basics, maybe? Hopefully that''s not to presume¡­ presumptuous.

    ¡°Could probably throw some enchantments on that too. It should take.¡±

    ¡°Lady Evileye?¡±

    ¡°Mobility perhaps, defensive wards across the gaps in the armor. Actually, if I were to stretch a world-lace dynamo-¡±

    She¡¯s not listening to me at all.

    ¡°Shorty.¡±

    ¡°What- what is it, brute?¡±

    ¡°Climb is trying to ask you a question.¡±

    ¡°He was?¡±

    ¡°Gods, are you deaf granny?¡±

    ¡°Shut up. What was it, Climb?¡±

    I can never keep up with them.

    ¡°Do you think you could teach me magic?¡±

    ¡°Oy, that¡¯s not a bad idea! They¡¯d finally have a court wizard in Valencia.¡±

    Evileye fell completely still, her cape tensioning off her immovable form as it fluttered in a light breeze. Gagaran turned to her, face losing its joviality as Evileye¡¯s silence continued. Climb blanched. She raised her hand a second time, and cast a spell.

    ¡°Mana Essence.¡±

    ¡°So, can he do it?¡±

    ¡°It would take¡­ time. You would need to start with the foundations.¡±

    ¡°How would I learn that?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not teaching you, but the Magicians Guild might.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that cost-¡±

    No, wait, she¡¯ll pay for it.

    ¡°She¡¯ll pay for it.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s voice overlapped with Climb¡¯s thoughts. The conclusion felt obvious, and he couldn¡¯t help but admonish himself for his error in judgment.

    Of course she¡¯ll pay for it.

    ¡°Just ask her.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I uh, I will, Lady Aindra.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I¡¯ll mention it to her.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lady Aindra.¡±

    Climb gave a deep bow, letting himself genuflect as deeply as possible.

    ¡°Oy, pretty-boy.¡±

    ¡°Please stop calling me that.¡±

    ¡°Virgin.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s worse!¡±

    ¡°Well I have to call you something.¡±

    Climb! Call me Climb!

    ¡°In any case, you mentioned something about slipping on carpet right?¡±

    ¡°Er, he was the one who jumped back first.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. But like, you¡¯re Her Highness¡¯s bodyguard, right? That means you are gonna be fighting in places like this uh, place. With carpet. You get me?¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡±

    ¡°Anyway, I wanna teach you a leaping strike.¡±

    ¡°You would?!¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. You have uh, that training space around here right? That place Gazef and I fought in.¡±

    ¡°Yes, let me take you over. Thank you, uh, Miss Gagaran.¡±

    Climb bowed a second time, before turning round to the exit to the fortress section of Ro-Lante. He started walking, and after a moment perked his head up. He looked back to Renner. She hadn¡¯t moved.

    Maybe she is asleep.

    ¡ª

    Zero¡¯s eyes slowly parted as he came to consciousness. The familiar beams of the ceiling and the hard slab he was on told him he was in their city compound. That he was at the compound in the first place told him that he was out of combat; that he was out of combat and had no memory of conquest over Gazef told him that he had failed. His mind immediately snapped to seizing the initiative.

    Morale is going to be through the floor. I need to keep this team together, and I need to do it tactfully.

    How he would do this, or what the general status of his team was, was still unknown to him. He quickly articulated every muscle in his body, checking to see what hurt and what didn¡¯t. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, the lingering heat of a healing potion¡¯s knitwork making the joint feel raw and warm. A metallic aftertaste lingered in his mouth and seemed to coat his throat, the product of a score of said potions. He slowly drew himself up to see a pacing Edstr?m, walking back and forth the span of the room. It was a stout and square space - nine paces across in either direction - that served as an operations room for the team.

    Turning his gaze round, he spotted Peshuran leaning against a support column, helm doffed and with a forlorn look in his eye; Davernoch was sitting on the other table in the room picking at his rib cage with a pair of forceps, putting ribs and other bones back in place. Succulent was sitting on a small couch in the couch in the corner, eating what appeared to be long-cold fried street food along with Malmvist. Edstr?m snapped her gaze to Zero, lips quivering with rage, before looking away. She charged near the door, before unleashing a series of kicks on a waste bin.

    ¡°Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!¡±

    ¡°Calm down.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me to calm down?!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am.¡±

    ¡°This was your fault, jackass! Had you just played the part the entire fucking time, he would have been in the fucking ground.¡±

    I¡¯ve never seen her like this.

    Zero stayed stoic, drawing in breath slowly, and keeping his body¡¯s function in strict time. He coldly evaluated the situation in front of him. There would be time to lament and scorn his loss later; now, the only way Six Arms would stay together was if he could force calm to prevail.

    ¡°Come on. Eddy-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking call me that!¡±

    ¡°Then darli-¡±

    ¡°Malmvist, shut up! This isn¡¯t your fight. You know what? Fuck this. I should have never joined this white-livered outfit. I¡¯m out. I¡¯m fucking out. This is exactly the sort of shit that gets people killed on operations.¡±

    ¡°Testy, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°I already told you to shut up, you fucking manwhore!¡±

    Edstr?m had never before displayed such explosive ire. Zero raised his eyebrow, before turning to look at the wall in front of him. On it was a framed map of the city behind a pane of glass. Using a piece of soft charcoal, they could use it to plan approach and egress routes for operations, locate targets through scrying spells, and keep tabs on guard patrol routes. It was meticulously detailed, and to its left and right were similar maps showing different views of the city, including its networks of sewers and other utilities, trade and smuggling routes, and the territories of various gangs and guard offices. On all three maps, there was a huge concentration of markings and details in the Foresain district, all centered around the alley in which they planned to slaughter Gazef.

    I¡¯ll need to handle this delicately.

    ¡°Edstr?m.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°Damn right I am! I can¡¯t work with this shit.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why? Zero, the fuck do you mean why? Isn¡¯t it obvious?! Aren¡¯t you pissed too? If Succulent hadn¡¯t fucked up his act, this wouldn¡¯t have been a problem. I had him! He was dead. He would have been fucking dead!¡±

    I wonder about that.

    ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±

    ¡°What, why- Ah, after you were downed.¡±

    Zero nodded.

    ¡°Nothing, really. He pulled his sword out from you. Peshuran and I were the only ones up-¡±

    ¡°I whipped at him, he caught it with a break in his sword and snapped it.¡±

    I would have loved to have seen that. Gazef was a fine fighter, that¡¯s certain.

    Zero couldn¡¯t help but chuff.

    ¡°He and I pulled back, I dragged off Succulent, though I¡¯m starting to wish I didn¡¯t. Peshuran grabbed you and Malmvist.¡±

    ¡°I dragged myself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Davernoch took care of¡­ himself?¡±

    ¡°I do not call myself the Undead Queen.¡±

    ¡°Right, and that¡¯s it.¡±

    That¡¯s it? Ah, I understand.

    Zero¡¯s line of questioning focused Edstr?m, she seeming to have shed most of her anger. Despite that, there was a lingering resentment in the air, all those present finding loathing in their hearts, be it to others, or themselves.

    The solution here is to tear everyone down.

    ¡°Gazef didn¡¯t pursue?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am certain! Why wouldn¡¯t I-¡±

    ¡°Now, Edstr?m, you¡¯ve regained your coolness; don¡¯t make the mistake of losing it a second time. Do you realize what you¡¯re saying?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Think about it. Why didn¡¯t Gazef run you down?¡±

    ¡°What do you-¡±

    Edstr?m¡¯s eyes shot open, as did Peshuran¡¯s; Malmvist and Succulent still bore looks of tepid confusion; and Davernoch was as always, unreadable.

    ¡°You had no kit, no weapons. Your blades were destroyed, as was his whip. Gazef had his sword in hand. Why didn¡¯t he run you down?¡±

    ¡°You''re saying he wasn¡¯t capable?¡±

    ¡°Davernoch, that bile that runs in your body, what is it?¡±

    ¡°An emulsion of necrotic flux.¡±

    ¡°And if that gets into a living person¡¯s body.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll eat them out from the inside, rob their ability to move or to think.¡±

    ¡°Combat ability?¡±

    ¡°Greatly reduced.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Now, Edstr?m, explain to the rest of the team what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    She lowered her head, pulling her mouth to the side as she thought. It took her a few moments to start speaking again, her timbre low and cold.

    ¡°Gazef wasn¡¯t in fighting shape. Him not assaulting us meant he was not capable of doing so. He was at a marked disadvantage the entire time; he bore no magical items, yet he found ways to defeat us each. He was a cunning fighter, willing to use every trick in and out of the book to take us down. That said, there were limits to his endurance. At the end there, if instead of retreating-¡±

    ¡°We instead chose to attack, we could have killed him. I wouldn¡¯t have needed my whip. We could have-¡±

    ¡°Ripped the kits off of you all, and ran him through.¡±

    Zero foisted himself off the table, landing steady on his feet despite the agony it brought him.

    ¡°I want you all to understand. This failure was not from any specific act or failure we made. That Warrior-Captain Gazef Stronoff is not in the ground is something that cannot be pinned on any one of us. It was not Succulent who failed, it was not Edstr?m or Peshuran or I. It was Six Arms that failed; not Six Arms the collection of mercenaries, but Six Arms the team. Understand that this is a failure of us to coordinate, to plan our actions, to successfully understand our enemy. We assumed that Gazef was a stalwart, upright fighter who would not resort to trickery and brutal practicality. That was a mistake. In truth, he¡¯s as dirty and as cunning as the lot of us. He is dangerous, as much a man of the crescent moon as is Unglaus, or the elder Aindra. Understand that we failed not just in execution, but in every other aspect of this battle. We went into a fight with him with only hubris, and it led us nowhere; yielded us nothing. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes-¡±

    ¡°Yeah-¡±

    ¡°I got it-¡±

    ¡°Positive-¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°At once now. Do you understand?!¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    All five resounded at once, a welling sense of shared responsibility and a reignited kernel of pride.

    ¡°Edstr?m, are you going to leave us.¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Is anyone else?¡±

    No one. That¡¯s what I thought.

    ¡°I¡¯m clearing the duty roster for the next week and a half. Any job that we took that can be handled by other teams will be reassigned to them; order of priority from highest to lowest will be Inferno Klub, The Matadors, Lost Boyz, and lastly, the Doom Scryers. Any slippage in that skill-range we pass off to Assassination and their wetwork team Ninth Greed. The job for Count Banda we¡¯ll delay.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that piss him off?¡±

    ¡°He can¡¯t hire anyone else for the work. For this job, you¡¯re getting no payout. If this means you have no drinking money, take this as a lesson.¡±

    ¡°And if the other divisions stiff us?¡±

    ¡°Hilma will pay; she settles her debts, always has. Cocco Doll is a different story; we¡¯ll need to force him to give up the coin.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not difficult. That sickly thing will balk at bladepoint.¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to hold him at bladepoint.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    This shit again.

    ¡°This is where our duties diverge. You all have one job. Maintaining your status as expert mercenaries. I have two. Leading this team, and leading the security division. While this team could extract payment from Cocco Doll, the Security division cannot retaliate against Slavery.¡±

    Peshuran shot his eyes to the side, before giving a slow nod of understanding. The rest of those present remained confused by Zero¡¯s words. Though it was impossible to read his face, Davernoch clearly shared this question, and he was the only one to actually ask.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°If you haven¡¯t been paying attention, Eight Fingers is split down the center.¡±

    ¡°Split down the center? Are you saying we¡¯re on the side of the slavery division?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re on our side, however, our interests align with those of Hilma Cygenus, Cocco Doll, Noah Zwedden, and whoever¡¯s in charge of banking¡¯s wrecked form this week.¡±

    Banking. Hm, there¡¯s a good chance she¡¯ll be in need of unmarred coin after this. Depends how much weakness she¡¯s willing to show in front of the council.

    ¡°When did this happen?¡±

    ¡°Back when we got rid of Unruh.¡±

    It''s almost certain he never actually betrayed the organization, he was likely loyal to the end. Only another reason to stay by her side through this. If she pulls away after this though, that¡¯s a different matter.

    ¡°Everyone; retrieve your earnings from the compound bank. Drink yourselves under the table, get out of town, go find a whore, whatever you need to do to clear your heads of this loss. Do something stupid and get injured, break a limb. Goes without saying no narcotics. Any of you touch anything Hilma sells, I¡¯ll kill you myself. We¡¯ll meet back in ten days. When that happens, I want you sharp and I want you ready for combat. I don¡¯t want any whining about team composition, assignments, or anything. Now go.¡±

    The lot of them stood up and walked out.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (2)

    The usual six. Two in our camp, two in theirs, one for the Emperor, one for himself. If only there was a- Eh, what am I saying? Raeven isn¡¯t an independent. Strange to think that, but the evidence is near undeniable, no? A re-accounting, then; three for my father, two for the nobility, one for the boy - oh, and zero for me. Feckless hands breed absent wills, but a lack altogether leads to comedy in the gap, a slipshod agony of innaction. Does my father know? Likely not. Thus, the rest. Haylor, Bornbrook, Aindra- No wait, Lord Aindra has brought others of his kin. Azuth is here - he who causes necks to font on the regular. Ought that beckon his niece?

    Renner swept her gaze round the room. Almost all were in ceremonial white for the winter solstice, a tradition Renner had long since given up trying to understand, for it did not snow in Re-Estize on anything but the rarest of occasions. Her eyes jumped from blond to blond, eventually snagging on one young woman.

    Lo, there she stands.

    Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra was an enigma to Renner, and by her reckoning was one to the entire room. Tall, blond, fair skinned, she had a sharp face with a daring look. The dates were difficult to pin down, but the youthful Aindra had run away from home at far too young an age to go on a life of adventure. To the surprise of some, she did not die, instead forging ahead in base guildwork. She had accumulated companions as she went, eventually ending up by the side of a near mythical woman, one Rigrit Bers Caurau. To earn the favor of a member of the Thirteen Heroes was unimaginable, much less to fight alongside one in combat, even further so to revive an adamantite team. There were rumors now that the budding Blue Rose was soon to exceed her uncle in the scale of her accomplishments; there were some that said she already had.

    She¡¯s seventeen, yet unmarried. Mark me well and truly green. If only I could resist courtship as she has. No, only the ends there, never the means; I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ll find myself trekking the wilderness blade in hand as a marcher-princess befitting the wildest Lairaborn dreams of a hack bard. Are any of her companions here? What do they even count; three, five? Who¡¯s to say the twin-killers are even real, not simply a folk-dream of hack- wait, didn¡¯t I just use that metaphor? Gods above, I must truly be feeble-minded. In any case, perhaps they aren¡¯t real. I doubt it matters, she¡¯s simply wreathed in the stuff of legend - her blades a golden halo. Ah, such comparisons are irresistible. Shame Climb isn¡¯t here. His eyes would light with joy at seeing such a hero of the age. If¡­ if I want that.

    He was absent, her brother having thrown a fit at the mere suggestion of his inclusion. This had earned Renner¡¯s ire, though she found herself unable to manifest any concrete revenge; she had lost herself in the subject of Climb. Her thoughts of him had begun to change in character, turning to new and heretofore alien flavors; worse, not only were these emotions unnamed, but she couldn¡¯t control them. Every time she looked in his direction, she felt things well inside her, becoming harder and harder to break her eyes away. His training was the worst of this, his exertions only seeming to consume her thoughts. As of the current moment, she had become enthralled with his sweat slicked hair. She didn¡¯t understand it, feeling she was on the cusp of something she had no name for. Something to do with his body. Something to do with hers. Strangely, there seemed to be a physical response to such thoughts as well; one she hadn¡¯t yet dared to investigate.

    It''s almost as if I want to do¡­ something with him. I can¡¯t tell what. No, I¡¯m on the verge of many things. Hm, I have a growing inkling as to why father separated him and I. Some deeper fondness between the sexes that I have yet to place, one born from the gap.

    Renner allowed herself a click of the tongue, taking one of her semiannual breaks in-performance. This was something that would require more thought, though she felt completely unprepared to do so at the moment. She needed a distraction, after a moment, deciding to seize upon the woman in front of her. Her father had given her the purview to socialize in a freeform manner, tonight more of a ball than any rigidly scheduled event. She weaved through the crowd, arriving in front of what she hoped would be her entertainment.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    Ah, she¡¯s captivating.¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra, how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance.¡±

    ¡°The honor is mine.¡±

    These opportunities come so infrequently. If I cannot have him, why not rip a little enjoyment from this evening without? Something girlish.

    ¡°Pray tell, would you be wont to indulge a princess in a heroic tale?¡±

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

    She opened her eyes to see the sky alit in fiery oranges. Her face fell into a slack smile as she realized gambit had worked.

    And here I find myself to be a woman of the dusk. Is this a sign that I¡¯m vulpine, or merely a hunter of such creatures?

    Her stirring had caught the immediate attention of Climb, who for his part was sitting next to her on the lawn, hands clasped. She stretched herself as discreetly as she could, her senses slurring into pinpricks as a rearrangement of her vitality caused her being to lurch. She blinked a few times, preparing her act.

    ¡°Good mor- er, evening, Your Highness.¡±

    Well, I suppose last night was good practice for such sudden dives into myself. Or, perhaps stalking into the twilight cathedrals of the great woods. Ah, I am enthralled with that framing. So what of him?

    ¡°Good morning, Climb.¡±

    Climb blanched, his mistress not missing the opportunity for mischief. Renner giggled slightly, which involuntarily turned into a yawn a few moments later. As it abated and she found herself back in control of her body, she locked her drooping eyes to him, sleepy blinks not stopping her from devouring his form.

    My darling hound. I am so proud of you. That animal which you caught in your jaws is something you should throne upon. One to grow your confidence with, your sense of valor. What wonderful revelations halo your head. I will keep you; I will keep you and I will do so responsibly. You will prosper under my aegis, under my direction, under my care. Now, fetch me another fox, let me don myself in the fineries of violent ends a little more.

    Renner flexed her neck before looking around, casting her gaze first left, then up and around. She saw what she had expected to see, a cluster of nobles and military men lurking on the patio, one far smaller than when she went to sleep in the first place.

    Good. The foolish tried to stay awake, and are only now slipping off to sleep. Those who slept when I did perceived a degree of safety; that means they either one, were in league and had no expectation of further attack or two - which is far more likely - knew that this would be a faction matter, not one of war with the empire. That no woke me means things are, as expected, politically stable. The conspirators will run flush with the pack, saying exactly what they would have if Barbro had ascended. This next night is going to be lively.

    The smell of many fresh baked goods overcame Renner, and she decided to get up and satiate her hunger. The kitchens, while they still had the foodstocks necessary to feed the next few days, had likely given up on attempting to pace. She drew herself up into a sitting position and evaluated her clothing. Her dress had been stained green in several places, and although it was an intentional sacrifice, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a little ashamed at the act. Giving a pensive laugh at her ruined dress, she burrowed her head in her hands and chided herself.

    ¡°Eh? Chardelon-Dearest, you¡¯ve made such a mess of yourself.¡±

    ¡°Y-your highness, I wouldn¡¯t worry too much about it.¡±

    ¡°Nor would I.¡±

    Renner snapped around to see that an armored woman had approached without her noticing.

    ¡°Lakyus, you scared me.¡±

    ¡°Oh did I? Say, aren¡¯t you kind of a mess?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m seeing that now.¡±

    Lakyus gave a quizzical look.

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Why did you sleep on the lawn?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡±

    ¡°Not in the slightest.¡±

    ¡°Well. Confidence in the palace¡¯s security is low. If nobles end up running off, that creates a problem for the rest of the council. Any disruption at this stage limits the effectiveness of the Kingdom¡¯s response to this crisis. Though Baharuth is likely - no, almost certainly uninvolved in this plot, any weakness we show to them could be seen as a prelude to war. It''s a minor contribution, but me sleeping on the lawn - in view of highbloods - creates a perception of safety. It¡¯s part of my obligation as a member of the royal family, we have to hold to a line-¡±

    ¡°Holding a line with the rest of the royal-¡±

    Lakyus stopped herself, her face quickly twisting into a confused, then anguished, then ruinous look. Climb¡¯s did too, though he lept straight from confusion to ire. It took Renner a moment to realize why.

    Ah, they¡¯re disturbed over the matter of Barbro.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of my brother, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am.¡±

    Her timbre was filled with anger. They fell into silence for a time, Lakyus¡¯s face twitching nervously. She started to shake, her grip on the pommel of Kilerenam turning her knuckles bone white. Renner swallowed involuntarily. It was one thing to hold back Climb from assaulting her brother, the ire of a boy who sought to protect his mistress; it was another matter entirely to be faced with the rage of a woman who had slain hundreds, be they human, beast, monster, or aberration; a woman who led a band capable of toppling nations. Lakyus opened her mouth slowly, her tone low and deadly.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    I need to be careful here. If they run off and kill him, Bolloupe and Lytton would immediately take up arms. Everything that I retained by the thinnest of threads last night would be lost from any swing of a blade. Tact above all else.

    ¡°Yes, Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°What do you want us to do to him?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°We can be quiet about it. Tia knows the layout of the-¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, what are you saying?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m asking you what you want us to do to him. I wouldn¡¯t torture him, but he-¡±

    Draw this out, let her emotions cool.

    ¡°Torture?!¡±

    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t do, but we could rip him from that room of his and drag him-¡±

    ¡°Gods above! Lakyus, are you saying you would¡­ harm him?¡±

    ¡°Suggesting? Your Highness- Renner. Are you saying you don¡¯t want us to kill him?¡±

    ¡°Kill?! Gods no! How could you even suggest such a thing?!¡±

    Renner shot her hands to her mouth, holding. Further silence, Lakyus turning her gaze up and away, biting her lip as she did so. A strange noise touched Renner¡¯s ears, like armor shifting against itself; it took her a moment to identify. Lakyus was still in her battlegear, Renner realizing it was the sound of her floating blades jittering.

    ¡°Your Highness, isn¡¯t that frightently hypocritical?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Over the last two months, you¡¯ve had us kill hundreds. Hundreds, Your Highness, and interrogate three dozen more. Am I to understand that your brother is to be excluded from this on the basis of what, his blood?¡±

    This is bad. I need to come up with an immediate reframing. Assure her this isn''t because of blood. If I could only call him a rat and be done with things!

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    ¡°Lakyus, thats-¡±

    ¡°That because he¡¯s your sibling, action against him is wrong? That because you can see the violence, you don¡¯t want to proceed? He¡¯s a traitor. He¡¯s scum. He¡¯s collaborated with Eight Fingers and the Theocracy; he¡¯s working alongside those slavers, both foriegn and domestic. Don¡¯t you care about that? Isn¡¯t that where you got your title from? If that doesn¡¯t matter to you, then what will? He¡¯s responsible for the deaths of three dozen last night.¡±

    Three dozen insects killing insects. True fratricide. All sans Brendel and Ehkan are of no importance.

    ¡°But to-¡±

    ¡°When we started this war- No, when you invited us to start this yourself. This assault- this campaign against Eight Fingers, I told you it would be long. When we met, what, a week later? You asked me if this was a mistake, if our slaying this organization and routing the lot of them was a fool¡¯s errand. I told you this would be a long war, a cruel one. A conflict that would drag on till we flushed out and exterminated the leadership. You have to be with us on this issue. Do you understand that?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference-¡±

    No, it¡¯s impossible to explain that to her while maintaining a guise.

    ¡°No, no there isn¡¯t. How could you- Gods. How could you think that? There is no difference between him and the enemies we fight. I don¡¯t know who you think would be capable of this besides us.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, you misunderstand.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I do. If you¡¯re calm to the point where you can sleep in broad-¡±

    My out! A profession of sheer horror will work.

    ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t want to be free of him desperately? Do you think I¡¯m not terrified?! If I thought there was a way for me to ensure he would never threaten I, or Climb, or the Kingdom again, I would take it. I want to run! I want to flee and hide in a place he can never find me. I¡¯m barely holding together.¡±

    ¡°But he-¡±

    Follow up with an escalation of terms. Daze her.

    ¡°We¡¯re threading the needle right now, Lakyus. One misstep and this country collapses!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re on the verge of a civil war! House Vaiself can in no way face the forces of Lords Bolloupe, Lytton, and Blumrush!¡±

    ¡°Wait, Lord Blumrush? Why-¡±

    ¡°A concurrent invasion by the Empire, one that dwarfs all previous action; one that if not actively supported by the Theocracy, would happen with its tacit blessing. We would lose that war, our men would be slaughtered at Katze. You¡¯re talking the fruit of a generation ripped away from us. All the wizards and witches that monster has forged from the mantic flame will reap the levy ten to one; their grand champions and warriors will reap one hundred to one. We would have famines by the next harvest. Food reserves would hit nothing within ten, maybe twelve months of the seizure of E-Rantel-¡±

    ¡°Wait, E-Rantel? Back up, explain-¡±

    Though I am exploiting it, how does this not make sense? How dull are you?

    ¡°What is there to explain, Lakyus?! E-Rantel would be in the possession of the empire within a year, by the forty-first of Foresai- no, by the first of Ryle. House Vaiself would never be able to mount a siege on Re-Blumrushur, and Re-Estize wouldn¡¯t hold sixty days!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand!¡±

    ¡°They will not so callously abandon their plans Lakyus! Do you wish to inspire a deeper conflict?¡±

    ¡°Renner, by the will of the Four, stop.¡±

    Renner let her words die in her mouth. Lakyus was breathing heavily, as was Climb, Renner doing the same as to act stressed. A minute¡¯s worth of time passed, each of them letting their bodies slow and their minds calm. Lakyus swallowed, before continuing.

    ¡°Your Highness, repeat that in detail.¡±

    ¡°What part?¡±

    ¡°All of it. Why¡­ why would Lord Blumrush side with the Noble Faction in case of a¡­ in case of a civil war?¡±

    Renner cocked her head to her side.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t know, do you? Lakyus, Blumrush has been in the pocket of Arwintar since El-Nix ascended to power. Everything he does has been in their service. The Bloody Emperor would want to bolster that faction in such a conflict. Of course Blumrush would flip sides.¡±

    ¡°What? He¡¯s a Marquis. He¡¯s in the service of the Empire?! My Gods.¡±

    ¡°You wish to know the rest too, don¡¯t you? Why there would be a civil war.¡±

    ¡°But- I¡­ Blumrush? Y-yes, I do.¡±

    ¡°Last night was not just a plot of Barbro and Eight Fingers. The Noble Faction was involved as well, and potentially some merchant groups.¡±

    ¡°The Noble Faction actively participated in this?¡±

    ¡°Likely, though I¡¯m unsure-¡±

    Ah, wait. Bolloupe was on that patio over there, and he looked refreshed. So I can pin this to him.

    ¡°No, sorry. I am sure. Pray tell, Lytton scampered off to sleep an hour or so ago?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    Not enough to clear him of suspicion, they could be swapping sleep cycles.

    ¡°And Bolloupe just got up?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Thus, Bolloupe is most certainly who Barbro is collaborating with. In that case, that likely ties Barbro to the merchant houses of his demesne.¡±

    Of which that front company for slavery is located.

    ¡°Please- Your Highness, I don¡¯t- Explain the full plot. In detail, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I must apologize. I¡¯ve given this to you scattered, haven¡¯t I? Bolloupe - perhaps a year ago - decides it''s time to secure his legacy, he decides to eliminate my father. He begins to groom Barbro, whispering things in his ear. It is difficult to simply assassinate the King, Gazef is too indomitable a force to be reckoned with, so he recruits Slane to deal with him in the borderlands; they wish to topple the Kingdom anyway. A pretense of conflict is fabricated in the borderlands, in this case, imperial intrusion. Gazef is killed, then my father is killed when the council is convened in response.¡±

    ¡°Where does Eight Fingers come in?¡±

    ¡°They are the ones who sent assassins to the palace. Of course, Gazef lived, so that forced a reordering of their operational plans. Six Arms is sent after him, not my father. This, along with your heroic cross insane gamble, lost them the night. I suppose we ought to find that Ainz Ooal Gown fellow who saved the Warrior-Captain at Carne and pin a medal on his chest, perhaps give him some land. Ah, you know the details of that don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I do. That magic caster, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I wasn¡¯t sure how much of that information had made it into the broader nobility. In any case, Barbro is the center of the plot here. He is tied to them in a shared conspiracy to kill, shared income from Eight Fingers, and shared blood on his hands.

    ¡°Why would he turn? I don¡¯t understand. He¡¯s the Crown Prince!¡±

    I don¡¯t wholly understand it either. Pin it on idiocy, the actions of a rabid animal.

    ¡°Perhaps it''s some deep, prideful evil only menfolk must strive against. In any case, he fell for those words, those fears. He is manipulatable enough to be turned against his father on the basis of his slow acquiescence of the throne.¡±

    In a way, it''s darkly ironic. The sort of thing a person with a vile sense of humor would find laugh at. Lo, I am, though it may be too much for Lakyus¡¯s purity of soul.

    ¡°How vile a man must he be?! Er, sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°You did nothing wrong, Climb. You would be better acquainted with these topics than I. Though forgive me for such a lumping together with someone as harmful as my eldest brother.¡±

    ¡°O-of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°To continue, he is in essence, an investment. A particularly valuable one, not to mention expensive. The tactical summary delivered by Jelka spoke of twenty-four of the enemy dead; was that correct, Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it was, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°And three quarters of them were in full plate?¡±

    ¡°All but five, I think.¡±

    ¡°The standard rate for that is-¡±

    ¡°Fifteen-hundred gold per suit, depending on the forger. So-¡±

    Fifteen-hundred times twenty minus fifteen-hundred is twenty-eight-thousand five-hundred, divided by fifty is six hundred gold standards, divided by one hundred times nine is approximately fifty-four platinum standards.

    ¡°Fifty-four platinum standards at market. We can assume discounts and subsidies through fluctuating market conditions, but the cost of their weapons, equipment, and scrolls should bring that up to around a hundred. Who knows what external costs they accrued in doing so.¡±

    Or how much economic output they commanded to get such equipment. There was probably a noticeable blip in iron markets during the preparation for this event.

    ¡°So, what does that mean?¡±

    ¡°It means our enemies spent something on the order of fifty-thousand gold minimum for last night, either in capital, debt, or actual coin. They did so and failed.¡±

    ¡°Gods above, I knew it was high but-¡±

    ¡°Eight Fingers is cunning enough to abandon him-¡±

    Though they are doing so at my behest. Ah, it will be interesting to see how powerful Keveleos is in that organization; I still haven¡¯t pinned down his division of origin. Ought I to tell Lakyus of this? Perhaps not, I don¡¯t know how she would feel about such¡­ ¡°backroom¡± deals with the enemy. Interesting; if she brings up Eight Fingers factionalism, I¡¯ll use my support of the slavery ban as evidence for intraorganizational conflict; else, no need. Let me then edit my story.

    ¡°But the Noble Faction is not. Cunning is the wrong word. Eight Fingers can change loyalty to Zanac without issue, the Noble Faction cannot.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    What would make a compelling narrative? Something that plays off her sense of moral obligation and idealism.

    ¡°A few practical reasons, a few innate ones. Bolloupe has liability with Barbro; my brother, if abandoned, can destroy himself to destroy the Marquis. That, along with financial ties. The Eight Fingers leadership are far more mercenary; quite literally, they are merchants. Akin to merchants, they will abandon what they think will not profit.¡±

    Ironically, this crisis may end up greatly strengthening the Royal Faction. Open political unity, the support of Eight Fingers, even if it''s collapsing. Do I turn ¡®round and approach Zanac now? No, too hasty. I ought to strengthen my position further, see if Keveleos keeps to his word.

    ¡°So, then what do we do?¡±

    ¡°My brother? Nothing.¡±

    ¡°How can you say that?¡±

    ¡°What choice do I have?¡±

    ¡°But he-¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, if you¡¯re asking how I can bear to stay by his side and act the role of a third Princess, I¡¯ve already had my revenge. He¡¯s destroyed himself, the only thing I need to do is shirk from him in public. There¡¯s already that narrative of a slap for the broader nobility to glom too. String that with his failed marriage proposal, and you¡¯ve created compelling gossip. No need for the reveal of the true thing.¡±

    ¡°He tried to kill you!¡±

    ¡°I know. Gods forbid, had Climb not stopped Teloran, or if he had not been there¡­ All I can do is endure my brother. His head won¡¯t grace the crown. Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for this, but may we move to more practical matters?¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s words seized, her expression deeply troubled. Climb was near to the point of tears, burrowing his head in his hands. She opened and closed her mouth several times, before finding her words.

    ¡°You¡¯ve already had all of last night to think about these things, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I apologize, my coolness must be jarring.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t afford to fall apart.¡±

    She spat that, framing it how I would. Though, she¡¯s not vexed at me, but rather the broader certainties and invariant issues of my situation.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly my thought process.¡±

    ¡°Are you giving up fighting him entirely?¡±

    Thus, to be sanguin.

    ¡°Lady Aindra, I do not pity you. Do not do so for me.¡±

    ¡°Right, sorry. Forgive me for my weakness¡±

    ¡°Of course, this is part of¡­ ah, what¡¯s the term Vena used? Duty?¡±

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you managed to sleep, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°It was the best move. Besides, I want to be fresh through the night to get some work done, pour through what we¡¯ve learned. Drink some more of that coffee your crimson-robed fellow gifted me to stay awake through the day.¡±

    ¡°You- how¡­ Climb.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Aindra?¡±

    ¡°How do you keep up with her?¡±

    ¡°...I don¡¯t know, Lady Aindra.¡±

    Renner giggled, which quickly turned into the three of them sharing a laugh.

    ¡°In any case. You have what-¡±

    ¡°Yes. I forced Tina and Gagaran to draft a report.¡±

    Gagaran and Tina? Ah, no I suppose that makes sense. Lakyus must have sent Tia on a scouting mission, and Evileye is busy doing¡­ something. What I couldn¡¯t guess, perhaps scrying for future wetwork.

    ¡°Contents?¡±

    ¡°Combat reports, the highlights of what we pulled from Fenthrop. Actually, I¡¯ll send the full transcripts when we return to our keep.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. As to your fighting strength?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna need some time to recover. We all do, but specifically Evileye and Gagaran.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Evileye was injured, and she needs to regenerate her mana.¡±

    An injury, what? Aren¡¯t you capable of healing her? What¡­ is Evileye? Chock up yet another failure of my knowledge, this time to matters of the divine.

    ¡°And of Gagaran?¡±

    ¡°Her weapon shattered.¡±

    ¡°Ah, all correct then.¡±

    ¡°After this, though, we need to be utterly relentless.¡±

    ¡°Are you and your two skulk fellows not going to conduct operations while they rest or-¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to move to the capital.¡±

    Eh? That¡¯s completely unexpected.

    ¡°Since when did you have land in-¡±

    ¡°Our warehouse. Shouldn¡¯t take too long to move, though Evileye is grumbling about having to set up scrying nets again. A good chunk of our stuff is here anyway, will make everything easier. We¡¯ll keep the¡­ uh, the keep.¡±

    The benefits are obvious, reducing communication times, faster action, et cetera. Ah, I ought to offer them some further accommodation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll release you additional funds for accommodations.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    You would live in a warehouse?!

    ¡°...Ah.¡±

    ¡°Y¡¯know, sometimes I almost forget you¡¯re royalty. Almost.¡±

    ¡°Be quiet.¡±

    Lakyus laughed far louder, Renner pouting. Climb seemed to have recovered somewhat, wearing a tired smile. Lakyus¡¯s jovial mood didn¡¯t last, her face sombering.

    ¡°Your Highness, would you pray with me?¡±

    She needs this, doesn¡¯t she?

    ¡°Yes, of course. Though, you¡¯d need to lead.¡±

    ¡°I was planning too. You too, Climb¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady Aindra.¡±

    Prayer. When was the last time I was ever involved in a prayer?

    Climb stood, Renner slipping her hand into his to pull herself up. The three of them stood together in a triangle, each holding the hand of both others. Lakyus and Climb stilled themselves, first her, then him closing their eyes. After a moment, Renner closed hers as well. Despite herself, she started to shake.

    I could not tell. After what I thought, my declarations of liberation from such things, I- I don¡¯t know if I want to do this. Am I afraid?

    ¡°He of the Froth and the Spray, I sit by the side of your waters to hear my supplications and render unto your aid I and those by my side.¡±

    What of fear? I have taken feyish joy in making Zanac squirm, and in doing the same for Gazef. But the eyes that Keveleos laid upon me, those were alit in worse visions. He signed! Why would I cause him to sign? Is hunger not a natural thing? Surely he desires wealth and power. What possible fault could be found in such consumptive drive? I want my Climb. He is imbued with a hypocrisy, a deep and discriminant one.

    ¡°He of the Crashing Wave, render unto I and those by my side refreshment and a recovery of our mortal forms¡¯ vigor.¡±

    Renner felt a wave flow through her, whatever lingering exhaustion she possessed burning away in its wake.

    The implication. What does that make me when I bring fear not of the wylds, but of the crypt? No, I¡¯ve made a mistake. Zanac, when he lets his grip slip, has given me that same look. I suppose I could never have distinguished it before. A new sort of terror I have not seen. I am of womenflesh, but that is all I can say with certainty. This is a new paradigm, but one I cannot align myself to with ease.

    ¡°He of the Bountiful Floodplain, render unto I and those by my side a restoration of form and poise that we might become better examples of your purity and your will.¡±

    Her clothes rustled, the lingering moisture upon her backside fading away as she turned completely dry.

    ¡°He of the Babbling Brook, I¡­ am in need of guidance. I cannot see a path forward. It feels as if my world has been shattered, broken and dashed under things which I never expected. How am I to stand with traitors in my midst?¡±

    This speaks to this, then. She prays, not simply as a practical thing, but as a profession of faith to the divine. How can she find such joys? How does she know? Do not those of the Six experience the same elation, the same rapture in the light of their Gods? It horrifies me. It¡¯s as if the world is coming undone, or as if it was always undone.

    ¡°When those I counted, if not as allies or good people, are truly vile? How do I remain steadfast? How do I remain holy and on the path of righteousness? How do I do what is right? How can I find the path forward? Please my lord, please. Help me to find the monstrous things in my midst and catch them in your cleansing tempest.¡±

    If I am a monstrous thing as he seemed to think, would I be burned away in the scope of devotion? I could not stand against it. I can¡¯t stand against it now. I am quaking. Why am I quaking?

    ¡°He of the Sanguin Spring, I thank you for the aid which you have given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until my foundation of rock washes away in the sea.¡±

    I am clean, I am refreshed, yet for all else, I didn¡¯t feel a thing but terror and fear.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (3)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 18]

    To review. Two dozen waystations along the highway east of here, none more than a league orthogonal to the road. Extrapolating similar densities in other directions, double to and fro Re-Blumrusher, we have in essence a system of umber caravansaries about sixty percent as extensive as the actual above-board trade institutions. Assuming, even then, that the Eight Fingers smugglers and so forth use the above-board lodges at significant rates - let''s say half - it still amounts to¡­ a staggering total. Hundreds of weights per day. Though being only one-in-two hundred of our population, one-in-fifty of our economic output flows through them. The grip of vice is that strong?

    Renner lightly tapped out the total on the table, chewing without pause. She had stayed awake through the night, seeing off the Blue Roses at sunset and spending the wax and wane of the night pouring over reports and drawing connections between them.

    Actually, that¡¯s calculable too. Population of nine and a score ten-thousand. Production of the refined substance¡­ lets see. A dozen-dozen estimated manufacture sites at raw yield ratios of eleven-to-one Laira to Black Dust - ten-to-one with alchemical additives or five-to-one with adulterants - processing two-thirds of the year at average speeds of a quarter amounts to Eryuentiu Ton per day, leads to¡­ about four aurim per year per capita. No wonder they could afford the Black Night. What an awesome market they have. Ah, I ought to burn that entire division to the ground before this Kingdom smokes itself into the grave. No, that would only release more fumes of mind-robbing make.

    These estimates were nearly solid. She now felt she had a complete picture of the scope of Eight Fingers, giving her a predictive power she hadn¡¯t had before. She felt ready to work backward, and even from the sparse data points the Blue Roses provided, she was able to place enemy bases on a map blind.

    It''s becoming increasingly clear they possess highly centralized distribution centers. Evidence is almost overwhelming. They do batch production of most of their product, precursors such as lime, solvent substances, and any number of cinnabars, brimstones, and soaps. There isn''t the capacity to furnish that at once, it''s bought over the course of the full year and held in reserve for the processing season in late fall through early winter. I suppose I finally have an explanation for oddly large salt purchases on the Gambling ledger, then the immediate flipping to Narcotics merchants. In any case, the quantities they go through necessitate stockpiles, large ones. The question is where.

    Renner stayed her fork, thinking of the practical effort needed to seek and destroy such locations.

    There are scores upon scores upon scores of lands to search, an area equivalent to almost a square spindle. Worse, by the nature of the substances, salts especially, they must be stored in cool, underground places. I speak of caves or perhaps abandoned mines, the sort of places completely hidden from the sort of aerial reconnaissance our-friend-in-red is wont to do. Interrogation is unlikely to reveal such places; answers can only be soothed from the data. I have weeks of work ahead of me. At least it won¡¯t force idle time onto Lakyus and her companions, they¡¯re going to be busy enough as is. Obligation with this council, now that it seems so likely to degenerate into further argument and cacophony, will cut into that. I¡¯ll need to find an out.

    These calculations had taken most of her time through the night, though it provided her with a few opportunities she wouldn¡¯t have otherwise had. She, being awake late - or rather, early - enough, was able to lodge a request for a specific breakfast with one of the provisional chefs. The woman, an upstart butcher''s daughter, had proven herself to Renner when she successfully cooked a steak-stuffed puff pastry as - in her words - a ¡°parody of pie¡±. Thus, Renner was currently digging through one of her creations, though this was filled with cream rather than the charnel of an animal.

    Maybe I can finally replace Rennac with her. Send that charlatan back to the slime from which he emerged - and with every dish he adds too. Head Chef Anise has a ring to it, no?

    She lifted her cup and drank. This was coffee, and though it was out-of-step for her, she had already found a love for the stuff.

    This has the sort of flavor that requires drowning in milk, but its utility! Liquid vigor, I¡¯ve never felt so awake in my life. I wonder what stamina tonics must feel like. I should purchase some. Ah, on the subject of concoctions.

    Pulling in a sip, she swiftly cut a portion of her pastry with her fork. Its filling bulged and dripped onto the plate, and with a deft scrape, she scooped up the lot and slipped it into her mouth a moment after. The bitterness of the coffee, smoothness of the cream, and sweetness of the bean paste filling mixed into a veritably decadent profile. Renner let a dull smile spread across her face as she chewed and swallowed.

    Oh, this is wonderful.

    ¡°Darling.¡±

    ¡°Yes, father?¡±

    She and her father were in their breakfast refectory, sunlight pouring in as it always had. Ramposa¡¯s lips were quivering, his breakfast untouched.

    ¡°How- How are you doing?¡±

    Present a shattered face. Draw out sympathy. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll use it to any ends now, but perhaps another time.

    ¡°Mmm. Well enough, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Um. I- I think.¡±

    Renner hung for a moment, before closing her eyes and shaking her head.

    ¡°Yeah, I think so, father. I just um¡­ yeah.¡±

    ¡°Would you want something more substantial? There are some new hens-¡±

    ¡°I um¡­ I¡¯m not particularly¡­ I don¡¯t know if I want any meat right now.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ of course. I apologize.¡±

    ¡°No matter, father. Vanquish the thought.¡±

    ¡°Darling. I¡­¡±

    Hm, I ought to take Vena up on her offer to hit the districts. That seems like a nice pastime. She mentioned a new hat shop; that would be feyish mirth - see what tacky things we can find. Anything else of note? She mentioned wanting to get makeup as restitution for that kohl. Strange apology, but no matter.

    ¡°I- I want to apologize for-¡±

    Now that I think about it, I¡¯m nearly out of bronzer, and that horrid imitation the maids fetched for me. Gods above, I don¡¯t know how people trust those women for anything. The whole lot are lame of sight and mind. Well, I might as well find some new outfits. It''s nice that I won¡¯t need a replacement tailored. That prayer of hers saved me money as much as it inspired discomfort in me.

    ¡°For¡­ for what¡­¡±

    I still can¡¯t sooth a truth of my reaction the day before. Why? Ah, too many questions. The Godhead realized or not, I should confront this directly, give myself a proper education in scripture rather than what the passing flits of mine have yielded. A short jaunt to a chapel ought to be lucrative.

    ¡°For what¡­ happened.¡±

    Ramposa wasn¡¯t able to get anything out anything further, eyes filled with fear and shame. After a moment, he burrowed his face in his hands. They hadn¡¯t had a proper conversation since the morning of the sixteenth, the crippling weight of guilt crushing his words underfoot.

    I should probably say something conciliatory.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, father.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not. It¡¯s not. I¡¯ve shortchanged you in every respect. You deserve so much better than what I¡¯ve given you.¡±

    ¡°Father-¡±

    ¡°Stop. You shouldn¡¯t need to be brave right now. I¡¯ve failed you. Under my watch, the Royal Guard somehow found cause to leave the post outside your room empty.¡±

    Not simply a shattered face; rather, that of a simpering fool.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be considered your fault. You were busy with your obligations with the Margrave, after I rendered myself incapable of performing my duties. I was the one who¡­ who proved herself a drunkard and a useless entertainer.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. You played your part that night as well as you could have been expected too.¡±

    ¡°As I could¡¯ve; doesn¡¯t say much, though. Only served to drag things. When it came to ease the pain of Barbro, couldn¡¯t even do that right. Didn¡¯t¡­ didn¡¯t have answers to his questions. Dull too - can¡¯t scry the character of my mistake, only its impact. I continually ruin things, don¡¯t I?¡±

    Jircniv is to declare later today that we are not going to war. No point on spilling blood and coin for an opponent that¡¯s content to gore itself. There will be shock, outrage, and no one will know what to do. Accusations of conspiracy, rumors of plots from any number of sources. It¡¯ll be a riot, I¡¯ll need to find an excuse to miss it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think that, you¡¯re the light of my life. I¡¯ll make sure that he¡­ that Climb, receives accolades for this. Perhaps. Who- who saved your life.¡±

    Hm, something to punctuate this. Ah, my opportunity.

    Renner gagged, then wretched, bringing her hand to her face a moment later. The motion tipped over her cup, spilling its black contents over the tablecloth. She wretched again, doing her best to stem the tide which threatened to come up from her stomach.

    That ought to be enough to dodge afternoon duty. This leaves me roombound, a breach I can fill off the top of my endless pile of tasks. To read over the fruit of Fenthrop¡¯s confessions. That man has been quite a boon.

    ¡°Darling!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m okay. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°Please! I-¡±

    She looked down at the spill she had made, some of it having made it onto her dress.

    That Eight Fingers has a system of couriers is not itself surprising; but the speed and efficiency of their operation! It must be more reliable than the above board methods of communication. I have no doubt that if I were to race a letter through both systems, that polydactyl fist would clench victory. There¡¯s a wonderful irony in that.

    ¡°Gods, Chardelon you¡¯ve made such a mess of yourself. Second one I¡¯ve ruined in just as much time-¡±

    She wretched again.

    Ah, perhaps I attempt to get one of their men to fill the courier position with. Oh Chardelon, that¡¯s a wonderful idea, no? A direct vector to Keveleos and whoever his confidants are. The turn-around would be instant, the sort of action I could inspire from them just with an errant word or two. A wonderful idea, but completely impractical. You can¡¯t unshatter a cup, and to rebuild it is to alter it irrevocably.

    ¡°Are you alright?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine father. I just- I struggle to- to bear things... sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Darling, please!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, father. Let- give me a moment to¡­ uh, clean up. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    We ¡°destroy them¡± as Lakyus is so wont to want, that chain falls into their hands, it would take such a sequence of absurd lucky breaks for me to avoid persecution. I wouldn¡¯t be able to convince them I wasn¡¯t aware, and playing it as if I was aware plausibly draws absurdly dangerous suspicion. That skirmish with her yesterday wasn¡¯t easy - though I think our relationship is stronger for it. Shame.

    ¡°I¡¯m not angry! Please.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. I just- I inconvenience you. So often. My brothers too. I- I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Darling you aren¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°I still haven¡¯t gotten married¡­ A burden on the house.¡±

    ¡°Renner!¡±

    She stopped speaking, letting silence reign for a moment.

    I¡¯m completely disjoint from the rest of the family. In many respects, I seem to have shaken out on top of this night. An interesting spiral of events. I ought to make a closing move. Lakyus convincing father and company that the Black Night was Eight Finger¡¯s doing - which verily it was - will help in this regard. With that, it will be far easier to convince Zanac of the weight of my words. Far easier to convince Raeven. Luck of the greed kings.

    ¡°Sorry. What is it father?¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think like that.¡±

    ¡°I apologize. I¡¯ve been thinking. I¡¯ll- I¡¯ll secure a marriage soon, father. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Renner-¡±

    ¡°I promise father. I¡¯ll fulfill my obligations. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯ve failed you again and again. I¡¯ll be¡­ I¡¯ll do what is required of me. I promise.¡±

    Ramposa again was left without words. After a moment, he sighed, and began to pick at his breakfast. Renner braced herself, then reached over and rang a handbell. Ringing it, she bid in a maid. El¡¯ya stepped in a moment later.

    Onto the subject of Lakyus¡¯s reward. Standard weight after standard weight of platinum - rather, gold - ought to do. It¡¯s not like we possess anything else to give, no weapons or armor of note. Some token figure, ten or so ought to do. What does this mean financially? They¡¯ll recoup the cost of the teleport. I¡¯d suggest land, but they already seem content to live in the company of stow-workers and stores.

    ¡°Please forgive me, I¡¯ve spilled my morning drink. Not to burden you with more tasks at daybreak, but could you perhaps fetch a cloth to dab this with.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Return with some stomach soothing tonic as well.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sire.¡±

    She bowed, and left. The two were alone again, though the silence was not complete. The steady hum of insects, singing praises to the heat of the coming solar zenith broke the quiet, a peaceful - if annoying - reminder of the world¡¯s life.

    ¡°Mm, father, a practical point.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I had some time last night, I worked out a planting pattern for my portion of the crown lands.¡±

    ¡°Have you now?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I was thinking root vegetables and the like. Run them in a¡­ oh, what would be the term? Shifting the fields used, or perhaps rotation, akin to the way we shift round the guards to keep them fresh.¡±

    ¡°Oh? The purpose of such?¡±

    ¡°Soil health. Different kinds and clades tend to rob the earth of different things when they grow. Others tend to regenerate the earth with their own fruit. By substituting them in a field year after year, the vitality and yields can be increased. The fullest investigation of such will take years, so, I figure I ought to start now.¡±

    ¡°And where did you get this idea from?¡±

    The crop yields from last year. After swapping that brassica for beetroot, we pulled bulbs almost double in size from the earth. Earlier records seemed to suggest similar things, detriments when corns were planted in the same spots over the course of decades. It checks, too; that as the soil bends the plant, so does the plant bend the soil.

    ¡°A conversation I overheard at the last banquet.¡±

    His face upturned into a slight smile.

    ¡°Only the Gods know what I¡¯ve done to earn such dauntless children.¡±

    ¡°And we such an indomitable father.¡±

    Lo, a rough list of to-do¡¯s: Hit the districts, get something tailored for late summer, new dress and hat; an alchemist for a replenishment of potions, a few novel ones as well; travel to the mages guild, sign up Climb - oh, and some message scrolls; mark the location of those stows - perhaps plant information in the Eight Fingers network and see where it pops out, though that¡¯s something I¡¯ll have the Blue Roses do; ah, and as always, see what groundwork I can¡¯t lay with Zanac and Raeven. All things well to be, no?

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 18]

    Gods, this is going to be bad.

    Raeven flicked his eyes back and forth between those present, the meeting space for diplomatic receptions nearly full. Almost every high-blood invited was in attendance, almost as good as the opening of the general council. It had come at an inconvenient time as is, cutting into that valuable early part of the summer for commodity trading. This was less for profit, more to brace his demesne against the manpower shortage during the expected annual war with Baharuth; now that said war seemed right on the horizon, he could feel the steady drain on his coffers that holding such assets meant, unable to vanquish the painful sense of useless expenditure. Worse, proceedings had suddenly extended; a night that had descended into violence, a second spent reeling, and now a third that seemed fit to spiral into further confrontation. He had intended this to be a short jaunt to the capital, to and fro in a week; now that seemed impossible.

    First the attack on Gazef¡¯s life, then that on the royal family, the marshalls, and then Gazef again. This, on the surface, looks like an attempt entirely designed to shatter our warmaking capability. It only makes sense as a prelude to an all-out invasion, the sort of war we¡¯ve dodged for almost a decade now. It''s unimaginable. The assault on Renner makes less sense, kidnapping plot perhaps? Oh that would be devious, feels like something out of a bad myth. ¡°Slay the dragon, get the girl¡± - ironic that it¡¯s against her of all princesses.

    The room was filled with dozens of tables, all arranged around a square arrangement in the center. The staff of Baharuth¡¯s embassy in Re-Estize took one of its four sides, Head Ambassador Lucius Mercat, along with Ambassadors Agricola and Silva, and several other minor members of their staff. Mercat seemed to brace himself, before pushing off from his seat. Alongside him was a woman Raeven was completely unfamiliar with, she too rose with a scroll in hand. She was older, but bore a peculiar beauty that had remained undamped with age.

    Strange, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s a member of the diplomatic mission. I have no clue what her inclusion is supposed to mean. Is this actually meant to be a declaration of war? Gods, if only I could have been in the room on the twelfth! His Majesty clearly saw this as a faction matter, but I¡¯m unsure why. Noble faction collaboration with the Empire is not unheard of, but to my knowledge, the only great traitor in that boy¡¯s service is Blumrush. I need to seek an ear among the marshalls.

    The pair looked around, and seeing that the room was at attention, started. She unfurled the scroll carefully, torquing its filigreed rods to read off the text.

    ¡°Edictum de Majestatis Imperatoris, Exactoris Progressor Politia, Renovator Servitii Civilis, Hasta Punctum Aetatis, Princeps Civitatis, Imperator Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix.¡±

    Wait, she¡¯s reading this in Tutulian?

    ¡°Presenting a message from His Imperial Majesty, Driver of the Progressive Polity, Renovator of the Civil Service, Spearpoint of the Age, First Citizen, Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix.¡±

    What¡¯s the point of this? Why not have Lucius read this out directly?

    ¡°Declaring that a state of war does not exist between the Empire of Baharuth and the Kingdom of Re-Estize, nor will it exist without the continued aggressions levied upon our lands and our peoples by the King and his men.¡±

    Wait, what? Why? Is it because they failed to actually accomplish any of their objectives?

    Things were badly off course. The room slipped into confusion, the general expectation most everyone held shattered. A declaration of war would have meant the necessity of dozens of tasks; that the next few months would become consumed by the preparation and equipping of the levy. Some may have already started this, locking up liquidity in spear-point orders, eating withdrawal fees from Merchant Guild banks, and - akin to Raeven - purchasing future orders of grain. Raeven had spent much of yesterday for this purpose, running himself ragged

    Luck of the Greed Kings that the Forge-Master couldn¡¯t meet with me yesterday. Saved myself thousands.

    ¡°Such wonton accusations of maladherence to the principles of valorous relations and clear diplomacy are wholly without basis in reality or sense. The Imperial Diplomatic Corps has provided its excellent and diligent service vigilantly and without fail to the Re-Estize Kingdom. All previous commencements of adversarial engagement born from fundamentally irreconcilable courses between our nations have never been made without a prior declaration of intent to do so.¡±

    Things started to bread, a growing sense of irate rage at the insults being levied. Raeven kept his cool, as did several other high nobles and other individuals.

    What¡¯s the angle here? I don¡¯t get it. Why pretend it wasn¡¯t them? Hm, what if it wasn¡¯t? What would that mean?

    ¡°That you now believe that our nation would need to stoop itself so low and bismerch its honor to waylay your Kingdom - whose institutions and civil structures are so rotten as to bring forth internal disunity to the point of treason - is an insult to the Empire of Baharuth.¡±

    That speech Jelka gave at the end of that night, before he resigned. He spoke to the intruders being Eight Fingers, but made no sure mention of Baharuth. Was this only a machination of that baleful syndicate; not hired by Arwintar, but by themselves? Or perhaps this matter is truly internal. The royal family, the marshalls. Which members of the royal family? Andrean and Theiere. The oaf and the¡­ oh what does Zanac always call her, the monster. Wait, is this a ploy by him?

    ¡°The origin of the turmoil and violence which had so taken the lives of your people and bloodied your halls of power is unknown to His Imperial Majesty; however, he finds it a telling fact that you would so blindly speak unsupported claims of villainous intent on his part. That your nation would be so content to wind itself in a fit of rage before pointing a finger at your solemn and balanced adversary, something that can only be the product of delusion or foul-nature.¡±

    The room exploded, irate outrage at the words of the ambassador.

    No, his targets wouldn¡¯t make sense. He¡¯s cunning enough to target himself, but he took no glory last night. I doubt he would target his sister either, he can¡¯t possibly dislike her to such a degree. Hm, or perhaps it¡¯s fear; I wonder if that would drive him to action. Also, he wouldn¡¯t send men after the marshalls. He would want this to be a simple plot, not a blunderous killing of all his enemies. Was- was it Renner? Is she capable of such a thing? Who knows. My memories of her as a girl are still clear, but she hasn¡¯t been like that in so long. If it''s an act, it''s a perfect one. I¡¯m off course, I still can¡¯t place this woman. Is she- Oh my Gods, she- she¡¯s- she¡¯s a member of the Imperial Harem! He¡¯s¡­ Holy- I don¡¯t¡­ What?!

    Raeven was stunned. The insult struck him suddenly. Even the courtesans who birthed his bastard children were good enough to deliver the Empire¡¯s message.

    ¡°In addition, His Imperial Majesty wishes to assure you that if you find cause to prosecute a war on this completely inane and mad basis, that your levy which you so cowardly field in place of true warriors will be met not with the care of a temple priest who aids to restore the mental equilibrium of the village feeblemind, but the full strength of the Imperial Army, including the breadth its Eight Legions, the Wizards and Archanists of our Mage Corps, and the might of our various and diverse martial forces.¡±

    Shouts filled the space, several noblemen leaping out of their chairs. Men pointed fingers, yelling over each other. Ambassador Mercat and the concubine by his side raised their voices, booming out the remaining words.

    ¡°Go back to the pit you crawled out of!¡±

    ¡°Go hang yourself, you feckless whore!¡±

    He¡¯s not just vengeful, he¡¯s gloating. He knows we can¡¯t go to war against him without shredding ourselves in the process. No, these words are actively intended to trigger a war, or, something like it. To make House Vaiself look weak. I wonder-

    ¡°Run yourself through!¡±

    ¡°His Imperial Majesty has expressed his sincere admiration for the jesters of Re-Estize for their ability to come up with ever more absurd and humorous comedies, and deeply hopes that House Vaiself learns to leash its curs and control its wild dogs.¡±

    He desires internal conflict. Gods above, this will be difficult to clean up

    ¡°His Imperial Majesty considers this horrid insult and the sickly flits of the broader nobility of your nation to be signs of your complete inability to participate in honorable discourse.¡±

    ¡°Get out!¡±

    ¡°You damn imperial dogs!¡±

    ¡°As such, His Imperial Majesty has ordered the recall of the diplomatic mission on an indefinite basis.¡±

    ¡°Good, we don¡¯t want you here!¡±

    ¡°You and your ilk, get out!¡±

    ¡°See you bastards at Katze in six months when you¡¯ve grown back your balls!¡±

    ¡°Fututus et mori in igni!¡±

    The woman signed a rude gesture, earning several disparate thrown objects - including pens and an inkwell. She, Lucius Mercat, and the rest of the staff stood and walked out, moving silently through the heckles and jeers. They filed out the double door exit to the room, slamming it shut with enough force to cause a bang and send a pair of tapestries fluttering. A few nobles threw the door back open, several others joining them, an impromptu crowd following the mission out. One, Davadet, charged over to one of the Royal Guard flanking the exit, demanding he hand over his sword. The Guard refused, triggering a sputtering of insults. Raeven sighed, trying to scope what had just happened.

    Ah, so he feels confident enough to be direct. Are people going to fall for this? Yes, yes they will. They absolutely will. Hm, actually¡­

    Raeven, then several others thought to look to the Vaiselfs. The Royal family had mostly tepid reactions, the most animated of which was Zanac rubbing his face; Ramposa and Barbro remained solemn; Renner looked slightly confused.

    I would have expected Barbro to chase those men out himself; I suppose he¡¯s a changed man. With that, the Royal Family is completely unified on this front. They¡¯re never like that. Barbro always runs a little counter to his father, Zanac a little counter to them both. Renner always does whatever she likes irrespective of consequence. I have no doubt she¡¯ll find some pointless cause to champion through all this. Something that will seem witful to the common folk, witless to our fellows, then halfwit at further inspection. Strange that it always seems to shake out that way.

    So what does that mean? It means they feel forced to hold a line. They needn¡¯t do that against Baharuth, only in strictly internal matters. The noble faction wasn¡¯t simply involved, they were the cause. Bolloupe looking to crown his legacy? But why attack the crown prince? Isn¡¯t he the easiest to control? That is unless he¡¯s struck some cunning ploy with Zanac. I¡¯m running in circles here. I need something concrete to glom too.

    Raeven thought for a moment, letting the room quiet down. He scribbled a few notes on a piece of paper in front of him - less from need, more to look busy - and passed a few minutes fruitlessly trying to piece together a perpetrator. The easy explanation was ¡°The Noble Faction,¡± but he was far too cynical to think such a descriptor useful. Specifically who conspired to kill the king, how they rallied support, and why they had found cause to do so eluded him. At some point, the double doors were closed and remained so, the room having been drained of about half those present.

    The scary thing is, I don¡¯t see why Eight Fingers has cause to kill the king. Isn¡¯t their drug trade booming? This only makes sense for them if they¡¯re seeking a complete consolidation of power. That they think they can seize something like that. They wouldn¡¯t want a civil war; they¡¯d make money on getting weapons across the border from Baharuth - which they¡¯d likely be sold at reduced-price from Imperial Army surplus - but every other industry? No, they think there would be a complete consolidation of power under the new king. That means¡­ what? One of the princes is in their pocket, and they think that prince holds enough political backing to keep things intact. Gods above.

    Raeven closed his eyes and craned his neck, cracking his back a moment after. He was not the sort of man to lose his composure at a stressful juncture, however, he needed some way to relieve the growing mental burden that sat on his shoulders. He held a stock straight position in his chair for a minute, emptying his mind of the impending ruin and woe likely to fall on his nation. He opened his eyes, and was struck with an idea.

    Why not simply speak to one of the boys? Zanac, probably. Not as if he¡¯ll suddenly lay bare his guilt - even his reckoning - though he¡¯s sure to reveal something with time.

    ¡°Marquis.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness. How bode the proceedings?¡±

    ¡°About as well as it looks.¡±

    He seems content to drop proper forms of address. Let me see if he gives any resistance if I do the same.

    ¡°Don¡¯t want to get more specific than that?¡±

    ¡°Hmph, something like that.¡±

    Evasion, but no outward disapproval of my speech.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you regale me with some of your thoughts?¡±

    Zanac paused, and looked him over. After a moment, he seemed to nod slightly, the shadow of a smirk on his face.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be without indulgence.¡±

    An invitation.

    ¡°Oh? You¡¯ve piqued my interest. Pray tell. What indulgences?¡±

    ¡°The crudely humorous parts of this affair.¡±

    ¡°As times like these demand fine whiskey, they also demand a little midnight mischief.¡±

    ¡°Midnight maledictions more like.¡±

    ¡°Lo?¡±

    ¡°Hm, alright. That woman there, the one who gave us that declaration. Do you know what she is?¡±

    Ah, he realized too.

    ¡°It hit me about halfway through the reading. I couldn¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Good, then you¡¯ll share my feelings on this.¡±

    ¡°Those being?¡±

    ¡°It made me realize, that boy seems to short change us in every aspect.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t give us our well deserved annual war.¡±

    Into the crucible immediately? Acceptable.

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°And then when he sends us his bitch to spit his rejection in our faces, in a move that I - at first - thought was overly thrifty, he skimps us on whores as well.¡±

    Raeven burst into a chuckle.

    ¡°How miserly can he be?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I don¡¯t feel content to share her.¡±

    ¡°Ay, I¡¯m with you on that. Say, why did you only think that at first?¡±

    ¡°Work out the math. There¡¯s only what, three? Between us, the rest of those here, our men, their men, and their mens¡¯ sons, that¡¯s a significant amount of¡­ sausage to make. We¡¯d need to take shifts, and by the time all of us have had a go, he¡¯ll be in E-Rantel with his britches down ready to fuck us.¡±

    ¡°Ah, your Highness, you¡¯ve missed something.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°He has us in a double bind.¡±

    ¡°Do explain.¡±

    ¡°We screw her at the preappointed rate, we get caught going into battle with our pants down. But, if we wrap up early-¡±

    Zanac exploded into laughter, Raeven an instant later. The pair completely failed to keep their raucous delight low, drawing the looks of several around them who hadn¡¯t heard the exchange. It was an odd moment of brevity, one Raeven sought to savor.

    ¡°Exactly!¡±

    Maybe this will be easier than I expected. Certainly far more enjoyable.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (4)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 18]

    Cicadas sung into the late morning air, a symphony of insects finding cause to render the day into a well worn din. Lakyus stretched herself, looking around at the golden fields surrounding her. She was able to see for miles in every direction, rolling hills of grain with the occasional cluster of farmers tending to the growing plants. The Blue Roses were around her, all five - even Evileye to stave her exhaustion - riding on horses provided to them by the crown when they departed. They had traveled through the night, a stealth tactic to avoid the specter that had haunted them from the evening of the sixteenth. Lakyus felt her floating blades twitch.

    And there¡¯s the sensor net. Wasn¡¯t sure when we were going to hit it. We never really ride in from the east, do we? I half expected to actually run into Unglaus¡¯s band.

    As per their prisoner, the Death-Spreading Brigade had been set to hunt them down, lurking somewhere in the space between their keep and E-Rantel. The Blue Roses had thus taken a circuitous route, traveling through fields and back roads. Though they had departed from the palace at dusk, their considered pace had meant they only now began to arrive at familiar land, and from the opposite direction as they were wont.

    Those sorts of men have a fiendish sense to predict the defensive reactions of their enemy. Maybe they were called off already; I suppose Eight Fingers is either too cheap, too foolish, or too shrewd to pursue us further. I¡­ I can¡¯t keep dodging this.

    Lakyus paused for a moment, before sighing. She had pushed her conversation with Renner out of her mind as long as possible, filling it with worries of combat with wetworkers and highwaymen. Reaching the keep unaccosted now shattered that excuse for avoiding the topic, and as such things often did, it flooded back into her.

    I don¡¯t understand it. How can she be so calm about this? Her brother tried to kill her.   I should kill him.   I want to, I really do. She¡¯s deeply afraid, but she knows she can¡¯t express that to anything but I. Gods, I see her¡­ what, twice a month at most? In all that in between time, she has to stay a princess; that persona of hers. She¡­ She doesn¡¯t have anyone to talk about this with. Climb was surprised when she mentioned it; she refuses to burden him with it, doesn¡¯t she?

    Climb was a whole other box of problems Lakyus had no will to parse, the Princess¡¯s secret love increasingly tragic on its face. After a moment, she shook her head. Her horse moved along unflinchingly, and she looked down at its mane. After a moment, she decided to stroke it, the animal chuffing gratefully. It was a warhorse, so she felt the act was likely wasted, though she felt the need to none-the-less.

    I knew she was lonely, but like that? She lives in a separate world; she¡¯s a different sort of person. She¡¯s not nobility, she¡¯s royalty. I never quite understood that gulf, but it¡¯s there. She¡¯s a Vaiself, thick and through - holds a loyalty to her name and blood. The way she shook when I led that prayer. A civil war would be horrid. I can¡¯t imagine it. Is she doing this for the people or for her house?

    The question hung uncomfortably in her mind, her friend seeming ever more inscrutable. Time passed as she rode, the highest battlements of their keep coming into view in the distance. Lakyus clicked her tongue; she had a need to share her thoughts. After a moment, she pivoted in her seat. Looking behind, she flicked her eyes first from a languid Gagaran, an alert Tina, and a dreary Tia.

    That¡¯s not going to work.

    Returning forward, she looked ahead to spot Evileye. She was riding twenty paces ahead, serving as a vanguard with her - recently revealed to be - innate nocturnal vision. Lakyus held out her hand, paddling it in the air to indicate her companions behind her needn¡¯t speed up, before bringing her animal into a trot. She caught up shortly.

    ¡°Evileye.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What sort of war are we fighting?¡±

    Evileye stayed silent for a moment, the steady sway of her warhorse lumbering back and forth. Lakyus heard a short sigh; on second thought, she found it odd, given that Evileye had no need to breathe.

    Is there such a thing as a rhetorical sigh?

    ¡°I know what you mean.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking one of those big picture questions, one of those large scale moral ones, right?¡±

    ¡°Do-¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask this to the twins or the brute because they wouldn¡¯t get it.¡±

    Does she have to be like this?

    ¡°Skip to the part where you answer my question.¡±

    ¡°Your question is the sort of question that isn¡¯t worth answering.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to spill their blood all the same.¡±

    ¡°But the why matters.¡±

    ¡°Mm. This is the stuff with the crown prince, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Of course it is! He¡¯s the crown prince, the next in line to the throne!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do about that.¡±

    ¡°Yes there is! We could-¡±

    Lakyus cut herself off, ending her sentence with a pause, then a huff.

    ¡°I share your thoughts, I do; at least something like them. We are perfectly capable of hopping that distance again, killing him, and getting out unidentified. We could do it right now.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Why don¡¯t we do that right now? He¡¯s a traitor! He¡¯s sold out his country to criminals and slavers, both domestic and foriegn.¡±

    ¡°You know why not.¡±

    What was it that she said? ¡°Destabilization¡± of the Kingdom?

    ¡°I do. I just don¡¯t understand it.¡±

    ¡°Why things are the way they are?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡±

    ¡°People asked the same things during the time of the Demon Gods. Why did the netherrealms rip open and font demons, devils, and brimstone into the world? Why did they devastate cities, kingdoms, species? There aren¡¯t good answers. It''s in the nature of fiends to ruin people and things; to lay waste. Renner mentioned something along those lines for her brother, a deep ill in the hearts of menfolk.¡±

    What? How did she hear that conversation? Has she been laying arcane ears, or is it just her vampirism?

    ¡°But that¡¯s so hollow a statement, so weightless.¡±

    ¡°It is, but what else is there to say? The crown prince is a traitor; he¡¯s collaborating with the syndicate and its skulks. That''s the extent of it.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s the crown prince. This is the Kingdom. Those things are¡­ are-¡±

    ¡°Sacred? Inviolate? Hallowed? Lakyus, those things are the purview of your Gods. Re-Estize has no such divine mandate; House Vaiself was not named as such benefactors of the Gods. They¡¯re fundamentally secular - which, to you, probably seems normal, but I assure you it¡¯s backward and weird. I know you care for your God, your stalwart commitment to your faith, but you know better here. You have more practical experience in the application of what is good, of the utility of morals in the real world than most.¡±

    ¡°This is different.¡±

    ¡°A woman standing by the side of her would-be murderer? A woman whose secret companion waylaid an assassin sent by her brother, and who¡¯s unlikely to receive accolades for it? Sure, it¡¯s different in scope, the sort of emotions it stirs when you hear it. But that¡¯s it. You¡¯re an adventurer. She isn¡¯t. You are of strong blood. She isn¡¯t. You have the freedom to pursue and destroy those evildoers in your midst. She doesn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You misunderstand.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about her.¡±

    ¡°Elaborate.¡±

    ¡°What does it say about us? About me?¡±

    ¡°That we¡¯re smart enough to play a numbers game.¡±

    ¡°What? What a dark thing to say.¡±

    ¡°Dark? Maybe, but practical? That we¡¯ll let an evil, horrible man live out a life in comfort and pleasure - or perhaps fall to the hands of his contemporaries - if it means maintaining those of many others.¡±

    ¡°But he tried to kill Renner, he tried to kill my friend!¡±

    ¡°Heroism is not simply the selfish act of putting yourself in danger for others.¡±

    Isn¡¯t it selfless?

    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean-¡±

    ¡°I know what I said. The heroism you do is selfish. You and I and the rest of the team are terribly self-centered. Heroism is not just self-sacrifice, interposing yourself between illborn things and the innocent. It¡¯s killing others. Throwing others into the crossfire, whether willingly or not, when you cannot afford to do otherwise. When it will save more than it loses. That is true selflessness.¡±

    ¡°What?! Evileye-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand.¡±

    To not defend the weak, to not throw yourself in the path of evil things, is wrong!   But practical.    We can save people. We can slay or turn back the monsters of the world. How many people would be left to die in your numbers game? If we thought like that about the princess, we wouldn¡¯t have teleported. Was it just vanity for her? Some teleportation experiment she could use to get her sorcerous thrills? Probably not, but how can she see things like this? How cold is she?

    ¡°I understand exactly. I just don¡¯t agree.¡±

    ¡°At least I gave you a reason.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°If Rigrit were in my place and you asked that, she would have smacked you upside the head and called you a crybaby.¡±

    She¡¯s not wrong.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably true.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I think the Princess is far more intelligent than we give her credit for.¡±

    Far more- what? She¡¯s the most intelligent person I know.

    ¡°Huh? Evileye, I don¡¯t know what you-¡±

    ¡°Her brother tried to kill her, yet she¡¯s not seeking revenge.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t we already establish that?¡±

    ¡°Er¡­ let me think.¡±

    Evileye hung. Seconds passed, then nearly a full minute. Evileye reached up to her face, and in a move Lakyus didn¡¯t expect, removed her mask. As they were approaching from the east, her hood was enough to shield her face from the daylight. Flipping it around, she clasped it in both hands, holding it low. Lakyus couldn¡¯t see her face, though it wasn¡¯t hard to guess she was evaluating her outer visage. Lakyus realized that it was no longer its pristine white; rather, a system of blackened and scorched channels webbed it. They were of equal width, weight, and color, breaking off from the once miniature slits through which once marked its eyes. Damage of similar kinds had accumulated on all of her clothing, her once cleancut robes tattered, and bodysuit pockmarked with holes. Streaks of her blond hair gently swung with the gait of her horse.

    ¡°Hm, nevermind. Dismiss the thought.¡±

    ¡°That was a long time to say nothing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I don¡¯t- I don¡¯t know how to express what I¡¯m thinking. She is¡­ unique.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    Evileye refastened her mask. Lakyus clicked her tongue, entirely unsure how to read her companion¡¯s actions, much less her show of vulnerability. She looked around some more, snagging on the sight of a few of their sleipnir wandering the field.

    Ah, that¡¯s right. Gagaran readied them before we left. Nice to see they¡¯re well trained enough not to run away.

    Lakyus held up her right hand and snapped her fingers, whistling as she did. Catching the beasts¡¯ attention, she pointed toward the keep. They lifted their heads, snatching a last few bites of grass, before trotting over. Lakyus watched them as they walked further ahead, spotting a carriage parked outside. She tilted her head at the site, before she filled with realization

    Ah, that¡¯s right; Fenthrop.

    Lakyus had, for the most part, forgotten about the Count. His shocking confession of high treason and subsequent bargaining for forgiveness through spilt intel served as a small blip in their minds. Only twenty paces away now, Lakyus watched as a knight tentatively rounded the corner of the keep, him shouting and jubilating at the sight. Two other knights ran into vision, and as the Blue Roses finally arrived in front of the entrance, a discombobulated Fenthrop lurched through the door.

    ¡°Gods above, you¡¯re back. You¡¯re back! We saw the marks on the ground and we were so worried.¡±

    More like afraid, no?

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. We are.¡±

    ¡°Where were you? We heard the commotion, found the door open, and you were gone!¡±

    ¡°Count, I don¡¯t have the energy for this.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Look, you did it, ok?¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The King is saved.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    Lakyus dismounted, the rest a moment later. She turned, spotting the wakeful of the two twins.

    ¡°Tina!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s going to badger us with questions, you field them.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Evil Boss.¡±

    ¡°Stop calling me that.¡±

    ¡°No, Evil Boss-¡±

    ¡°Fiendish Leader.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t even talking to you!¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra-¡±

    ¡°Count, we traveled to Re-Estize to save His Majesty from an assassination- Actually, what have you done with that prisoner of ours.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve kept him alive. My man didn¡¯t think he was going to live, so I gave him one of the healing potions.¡±

    Oh, that¡¯s actually quite helpful.

    ¡°That¡¯s good, thanks. Where is he?¡±

    ¡°We still have him tied in his chair.¡±

    ¡°Food and water?¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Lakyus let the stress fade from her back, her body sore from the long ride. She grabbed her horse by its lead, guiding it along to the stable. They would need to keep it until they could travel to Re-Estize with the full takings of their keep. She began to work out the process of moving to the capital.

    We¡¯ll need to do four trips, five maybe. A week¡¯s worth of carting back and forth. Shit, that¡¯s gonna be a slog. I hate riding on horses.

    ¡°What is this business about an attempt on the King?¡±

    ¡°We foiled it. You¡¯re probably fit to return to E-Pespel.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll discuss details soon. Now, order your men to help us get these horses in.¡±

    That thing I said to Evileye, ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡± That was ignorant, wasn¡¯t it? She¡¯s what, ten times my age? Does Renner come across as that different to her? That strange? To my question earlier, perhaps the answer is ¡°both.¡± Something for the good of the Kingdom and for those she cares about. Not serving the self, maybe just rewarding it.

    ¡ª

    Climb feet sank into the quagmire, the feeling of mud between his toes. Drop after drop of rain struck his body, little motes of water pooling on his arms and hair. The feeling of streams running down from his slick hair. He looked round; a few people off in the distance, their silhouettes framed by the mist.

    I¡¯m cold.

    He reached out, catching some of the downpour in his hand. Flipping it over, he realized he was in his armor. He tugged his mouth to the side, he wasn¡¯t cold at all; water not touching his skin, but simply wicking off of his armor. He turned round and started to walk, the squelches of wet dirt crushed under his boots.

    Wait, am I supposed to be on duty?

    Climb felt his heart drop.

    How could I forget that? My Gods, I¡¯m supposed to be on duty!

    His chest felt tight. He had shirked his shift, and he had done it unknowingly. He broke into a jog, then a dash, desperately searching for the palace. The streets began to blend together, turning around and around without finding a clear path forward. He ran, darting from corner to corner, threatening to stumble several times. He ran onto a street that - to his excitement - seemed vaguely familiar.

    Wait, it''s this way!

    He bolted to one end, finding himself on one of the main thoroughfares. He followed the path to the palace. He felt deeply anxious.

    What¡¯s going to happen? Gods, I can¡¯t believe I forgot! I¡¯m useless at this stuff. Will Jelka be mad? He will be. How will I explain this to Ekhan? To Jonnah?

    A scream. Her scream.

    ¡°Princess?¡±

    She screamed again.

    ¡°Princess!¡±

    He turned around, spinning in place, trying to find the source. The hair stood on the back of his neck. Whipping in that direction, he spotted an alleyway, and charged toward it. Turning round the corner into it, he dashed down the corridor to Renner¡¯s room. The screaming grew louder. She was in danger.

    ¡°Princess! Princess!¡±

    Her screams cut off. He turned again, into her room. There was no guard. The door to her bedroom was open.

    ¡°Renner! I¡¯m coming!¡±

    He burst in, seeing that baleful animal on top of her. The mongrel dug into her, its maw soaked in blood. Biting her limp arm, it leaned back on its haunches and tugged, dragging her body unceremoniously off her bed. Climb drew his sword and charged. He tripped on the rug, stumbling over. The world slurried, visions turning hollow and sound dragging farther away.

    Climb jerked awake.

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 19]

    Thus, to the subject of death.

    Renner flicked her eyes from pane to pane, the light that poured through staining the floorboards with color. Depictions of leaping flames, colorful rock strata, a roiling sea, and layers of clouds played across the ground. Renner found their presence quizzical.

    We don¡¯t have a native source of those deep blue dyes, no? Why do we even have these windows in the first place? Surely we can all read - whose idea was that? An odd infiltration of the peasantry into our lives. Ah, I wonder what they cost.

    The capital was not simply the political center of the Kingdom; rather, it was the core of all aspects of its life. It was home to the foremost halls of each guild - only exceptions being Mining in Re-Blumrushur, Seafaring in Re-Robel, and Adventuring in E-Rantel; the apex of its culinary endeavors, foods mingling from across its borders; the largest nexus of merchant activity west of Arwintar; and to Renner¡¯s current interest, the bastion of its faith. Both those highbloods who had homes there and visiting dignitaries expected degrees of religious accommodation; churches to the Four Gods dotted the space, some minor chapels in service to the Gods of trade and mercantilism, even a modest cathedral to the Six Gods of the Theocracy. Ro-Lente - being a spendthrift construction - contained two halls of worship - both to the Four - one relegated strictly for the garrison in its fortress sections, the other in Valencia itself. Renner had chosen to visit the latter.

    I only come here for the solstice and equinox ceremonies. That we have such a thing is strange at all. Do not the visiting dignitaries and faithful men of our country find their own halls of worship in the broader districts? What of visitors? Pray tell Chardelon, what are you even doing here?

    Her and Vena had made a route of the morning, having hit a number of shops and businesses, ending their half-day with a restaurant lunch. Renner removed her recently purchased flat-brim as she stepped in through the door. The faith of the Four demanded twice daily worship, though Only the most obsessive of adherents actually bothered to attend both dawn and dusk worship sessions. Thus, Renner¡¯s arrival midday meant the space was near abandoned, only the ministry present. Being a church in the Kingdom¡¯s apex, it was furnished exquisitely.

    I¡¯m here to seek answers. Answers to what? To the nature of the angels that nearly waylaid Gazef. To the beyond, to the heavens. To death. To that quaking of the soul I seem so wont to fall to in the face of such divine things. To the constructions of the Gods. To the little gaps that seem to form me. To that specter which overhangs all I do.

    Renner rarely visited such places. The presence of such a space in the palace was a hard won concession for the church; Re-Estize and Baharuth alike had irreligious institutions, neither House Vaiself nor the Nix Dynasty allowing any formalized powers to fall into its hands. Her presence here would make for compelling gossip in quieter times, leading to the predictable rumors of conversion. Luckily, times were not quiet, and with the harrowing night that all had experienced, she would be excused a small showing of vulnerability. Noticing Renner¡¯s entrance, an older woman near the altar broke from a triplet of her robed fellows, approaching the rear bench which Renner had sat upon. Her brown hair was tied in two long braids that fell down her front, framing an icon of a candle-flame embroidered upon her vestments.

    ¡°Welcome, Your Highness.¡±

    A woman? No, such a thing shouldn¡¯t be surprising. Say what you will about our people¡¯s preference for the male sex, this is not Roble. Their regent is a complicated subject in her own right, but the Faith of the Four finds too slack a hold here to reach for that dismal branch alone. A handhold for me? Implausibly. If such a thing would not work six years ago, how could it now?

    The priesthood was an escape from marriage Renner had considered as a girl. Over its rule, House Vaiself had produced four royal priestesses - and likely many more illegitimately. A route a princess could take to avoid matrimonial bond in stable times, she would shed her place in the succession order - already untenably low - to instead dedicate herself to a life of service in the church. This hinged on times being stable, alliances with the church only being prudent to buy when there were no more pressing matters of political stability to attend to. The reign of Foresai was not afforded such peace, a nearly four decade period of sequential crisis.

    The idea is stillborn anyway. It would deny me my Climb, a rote impossibility.

    ¡°Thank you for having me. I know I¡¯m attending late, or perhaps early.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. I hope this day finds you well.¡±

    ¡°You in twain.¡±

    ¡°Actually, it does. That I would be graced by not one or two, but four of the Ryles in such rapid succession.¡±

    Now that¡¯s surprising. I knew Vena had been attending with Pespea, but both my brothers too?

    ¡°Eh? You speak in verity?¡±

    ¡°Well, Lord and Lady Pespea have been attending since their arrival; His Highness Zanac came along with Lord Raeven to the evening service-¡±

    Them in twain? I did not think they had built such rapport with each other. Such a thing was an object of mine, but all I did was prod Zanac once. Perhaps they have compatible personalities? An unexpected boon. I put one foot in the door and already I have been bestowed a blessing.

    ¡°And then His Highness the Crown Prince came - quite late into the night I might add.¡±

    Akin to me, she¡¯s prodding for answers, beckoning forth ¡°whys¡± with her ¡°whos¡±. I have many to give, but none for her. As to my brother¡¯s arrival in the umbra, if it''s simple regret over watching the death rendered with his hand, I¡¯ll laugh. What sort of half-wit does one need to be to be goaded into killing friends; what sort of no-wit to cry after?

    ¡°So most definitely late. Looks like I¡¯ve been a bit slack in coming, then.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that, Your Highness. You¡¯ve a purpose for visiting?¡±

    ¡°Would it be an insult if I said it was a flit?¡±

    ¡°Not at all. Would you like to speak in a more private space?¡±

    A power play, trying to drag me deeper into her territory. Bold, very much so. Shame the subjects that grip me are of such a complex make. Thus, let slip the ground and see what lies beyond.

    ¡°Indeed, I would appreciate that. A name?¡±

    ¡°Ena, Your Highness.¡±

    Ena¡­ Gelden. I can¡¯t remember her generational, nor her first. Isn¡¯t she simply a spare daughter of a minor barony? Half the madestaff rank higher than her in blood. No, wait. Ena is her first, her address is Haver. Haver Ena¡­ Neli Gelden. Does she expect to call me Chardelon? Comical.

    ¡°Thank you. Please, guide me.¡±

    Renner stood, slipping out of the pew. She and the priestess began to walk down the aisle, Renner casting her gaze to more closely observe the images depicted on the windows. There was nothing to snag on, the depictions overwhelmingly simple.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t bring your bodyguard, Your Highness?¡±

    Extremely comical. To so casually ask questions of royalty while being only of low-noble blood. The confidence of faithful folk never ceases to amuse me.

    ¡°No, he¡¯s off practicing his craft.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    That jumping strike Gagaran taught him, off drilling as usual.

    ¡°I¡¯m of no desire to hold him from it. It¡¯s his want.¡±

    The pair reached the front, turning to the side, avoiding the altar to enter a door on its right side. Renner walked into the inner space, a number of small rooms branching off to each side. Ena continued to lead her, entering what Renner presumed was her office. It was a small space, windowless and lit only with a magical light; it was cluttered with books and scrolls, overcrowding shelves until it spilled out onto the floor, then turning into haphazard piles; to the right of the entrance was a private altar, a low flame smoldering in its wrought iron brazier; there was an open book of scripture set at its foot, as well as a small pillow. The acrid scents of incense filled Renner¡¯s nose, she sitting in a chair indicated by Ena, before Ena too sat.

    ¡°So, what was it you wanted to speak about?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I did have some questions about¡­ oh, how do I say this? The mechanics of the divine.¡±

    ¡°The mechanics, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Er, if that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°I think so. You wish to know the actual function of things, no?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Ask away.¡±

    ¡°Where to start. I am friends with Lady Aindra, you know of her?¡±

    ¡°You mean the Bladelord, Blue Rose, dedicated adherent to the faith, and adamantite adventurer? The woman who¡¯s bothered to show up to every service in the time between the vanquishing of the enemy and her departure? The one whose valor is fit to enter legends? That Lady Aindra?¡±

    ¡°All correct, again I must ask you to forgive me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no matter. What about her?¡±

    She feels comfortable enough to stop giving proper address? Have I already insulted her? Perhaps I have; already she thinks so little of me. Disappointing.

    ¡°Well, she led me and my bodyguard in a prayer.¡±

    ¡°Did she?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I was perhaps¡­ fearful.¡±

    ¡°Hm, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Are you doing alright?¡±

    Lo, she cuts to the heart of the matter. Confidence? No. Dullness? A fair chance.

    ¡°That¡¯s the question, no?¡±

    ¡°You faced horrible things that night.¡±

    Such a declarative statement. Still, it''s not without merit. Perhaps¡­ vulnerability.

    Renner remained silent, after a time, giving a weak nod. Ena let the silence hang for a moment, before leaning forward in her chair, and letting the expression on her face die.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been thinking of the beyond.¡±

    ¡°I have. Ena?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°What does it mean to die?¡±

    ¡°It is to be judged, to be seen by the Gods.¡±

    ¡°Judged for what?¡±

    ¡°For your heart to be weighed on their scales.¡±

    ¡°The heart?¡±

    ¡°Its guilt. What it bears, what it¡¯s seen. What it knows of itself. To be known, wholly and utterly.¡±

    The thought of that infuriates me. Surely there are those who create earthly works while saddled with unburdened guilt. What of Climb? His mind is surely yet to process his kill. Would such a system of judgment damn him? What an absurd statement.

    ¡°What of deeds?¡±

    ¡°Deeds matter, decisions of moral care or ruinous abandon. Minor ills will escape them, but mortal crimes? The Gods will not forgive nor forget acts like that. Grand betrayals, murder, adultery. For your deeds to be counted in full, then weighed, then totaled. Those whose deeds were virtuous, and whose hearts were too, will pass through to better places. Of those not, other fates lie waiting.¡±

    Her speech is completely incoherent. If it is one¡¯s innate goodness that matters, the internal perception of your acts, what of supreme criminals who act completely without bearing or reference to morals? What of my brother? If he does not mark himself in her words, a betrayer and a murderer, then what does it say of him or his judgement? Where lies the threshold of truly horrid sins? She has provided nothing. Where do I fall in such a rendering? Coming here was truly useless, wasn¡¯t it? Damnable. To prod.

    ¡°What of those who have committed horrible crimes despite their good nature?¡±

    ¡°The Gods see that as an indicator of imprudence, a sloth of evaluation, a failure to follow the teachings they passed down to us. Kindness means naught when not married with adherence.¡±

    Really? What of those not granted the powers of perception, or of intellect? Is not the vast majority of mankind born to such a lack? No, that the Gods so sparingly doled out when they formed us from dust and blood. To be indicted for deficiencies they put into us? Who wouldn¡¯t that mark an ingrate? Surely my father for his alliance with Blumrush, Jelka who failed through no cause of his own, Climb for his failure to detect Teloran after the critical moment had passed. Posit the inverse.

    ¡°What of those who hold vileness in their hearts, but spend their lives doing good works none-the-less?¡±

    ¡°If they are as you say, vile, their actions will always be stained by that. Always be tainted. They will find selfish routes in openly selfless deeds. There is no height to their actions, only empty words. They find no different fate.¡±

    What new class of absurdity is this? Does not this destroy all practical advancement of others to serve the self? Is a noble that paves the roads in their demesne suddenly declared a person of avarice for the increase in taxes it will bring? Any action can be marked thus. Finally, the inverse mirror.

    ¡°And what of someone who commits sin with knowledge, yet without care or regret?¡±

    ¡°There are no such people. Those who do flit the Gods willingly and knowingly are nothing but fools.¡±

    What a premature conclusion. To say such people do not exist. It''s an impossible statement! Pray tell, have I not created fabrications of similar nature? I speak falsehood for the sake of this kingdom, no? What of my conversation with Lakyus? Had I made mention of Keveleos, would things not have fallen apart? A foolish ideology. Speak, Ena. Speak of me.

    ¡°There are none that do so with knowledge of fate?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, you speak of fiends; rotten and hollow things from the deep places. You needn¡¯t worry about such monsters, or of their fates. I promise, you¡¯re safe in a place like this.¡±

    Rotten and Hollow. Unwieldy concepts, I choose to give no ground. Thus, retaliation.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I am.¡±

    ¡°Only the sulfurous and sepulcher need fear about the aegis of the Gods. Creatures like that will simply be reaped, and their sowers slain.¡±

    I care no longer to lace my words with polite terms, only to set them in such.

    ¡°I was not speaking of distant things.¡±

    The meaning of Renner¡¯s words played across Ena¡¯s face in waves, first confused, then shocked, and finally a recomposure. Renner kept her gaze level and solemn, her inner face twisted in a dark smile. She had grown truly tired of this conversation. Ena opened and closed her mouth several times, before rallying in a change of subject.

    ¡°Thus, to the Gods. You know of them?¡±

    ¡°You must forgive me, for I have not memorized their many names.¡±

    ¡°I know not one who knows all.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°Even Him whom I throw my devotion behind, the Stalwart Torch, I know not all the names of. You must understand, they are multifaceted beings. They are the world, every aspect of it.¡±

    ¡°What of their arrival, their palace in the world when they came?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    You really had no clue what I meant when I said mechanics, do you?

    ¡°Their historicity.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°They possess the Godheads, yes?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, they do.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    ¡°Why do they possess the Godheads? ¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, Your Highness, I struggle to understand.¡±

    ¡°They existed, yes?¡±

    Ena started, before vestiges of frustration began to creep into her gaze. She repositioned back in her chair.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°They existed in the world when we did.¡±

    ¡°Their mortal avatars.¡±

    ¡°They held their powers, all the aspects of their divinity, correct? They wrought works here, built nations and kingdoms, saved humanity again and again, passed on their messages, their commandments and instructions. They gave us the essence of them, the expressions of their divinity. The prayer that Lakyus led and the material effect it had on me; the angels that would have slaughtered the Warrior-Captain, they held blades and thrust them into him; the ravages of the world centuries ago and the monsters they stopped; those were all wholly real, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but-¡±

    ¡°We do not live in a world of phantasm, but there are many other things that are material, phenomena that bind and mystify none-the-less. Why do they hold their divinity, their status?¡±

    ¡°Because they are the Gods.¡±

    ¡°Yes but we know that how?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for my vulgarity, but are there not things of similar scale in scope? How can we tell the difference? What fonts from the mouths of the Sunlit Scripture- er, if you heard of such matters.¡±

    ¡°Those heretics of Slane who harmed Gazef?¡±

    ¡°Did they not sing those angels into being? They worship¡­ oh, who is it? The paramount God of the Six.¡±

    ¡°That damnable lie of Alah Alaf.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Tell me, Ena, why did seraphim form by their expression? If there are Four-¡±

    ¡°If? You¡¯re saying you believe otherwise?¡±

    ¡°Eh? Nothing of the sort. I simply do not understand.¡±

    ¡°Then explain, meticulously.¡±

    ¡°Where could they have abounded from if not the Gods? Worse, what of the beastmen and their idols?¡±

    ¡°What?! I don¡¯t see cause to bring-¡±

    ¡°Do they not worship? Do they not throw themselves at the ground in light of their faith? Do they not have shamanic rights akin to our own? They do, and those too have expression as physical things; the sealing of wounds, the blight of fields, they happen. If it is our Four who hold supreme power over the world, if it is our Four who are untouchable by all other subjects, why do they let stand any challenge to their supremacy?¡±

    ¡°Because they are the Gods!¡±

    ¡°Need we lead ourselves in circles on this matter?¡±

    ¡°What you ask is sacrilege, Your Highness.¡±

    And such a simple question we have no answer to.

    ¡°My apologies, may be marked remiss.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I have little more to say. I expected a conversation on the topics of providence and¡­ love, not this.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°To find you using such a knife of- of- of malediction.¡±

    A knife?! You are accusing me of stabbing at thyne faith when I asked only the barest of questions? This was not a serious effort at such, and yet I have dismembered you. Perhaps I am a huntress, though what sort of dullard is absent the knowledge of their very vocation? May I be ¡°Renner the Baffled.¡± Well, if I have so slipped steel betwixt your innards, why not twist?

    ¡°How horrid! Lady Geldon, please find it in your heart to accept my regrets and apologies. I did not mean to quagmire your day in such burdenful subjects. I have simply been sent spinning anew at everything that happened, I did not mean to- to burden¡­¡±

    Ena¡¯s face twisted again, now to a far more clear expression of guilt.

    ¡°I accept. I apologize too. This was not an issue I had with His Highness.¡±

    ¡°You speak of my dear Igana?¡±

    ¡°No, he passed up my opportunity for council. Rather, your eldest brother.¡±

    It took the whole of Renner¡¯s composition to avoid bursting into laughter.

    Lo, he falls! He falls and he falls and he falls! He does feel true guilt! He is truly witless! What a tangential thing to have confirmed. I spoke earlier of how foolish it was to come here, but nay! My time here paid greater dividends than anything short of being told I was Godkin. Hilarity unbound! He feels guilt, he regrets this! Brother, you have not simply reaped your demise, but resown every seed and cutting you yielded! What new doom will sprout?

    ¡°And that I find myself slower than him in such matters. Ah, a shame I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    I¡­ I hate him for it. That he would be given such gifts only to squander them - only to languish. To fall apart in a dynamic and spectacular way, only seek comfort in the breast of an unwitting charlatan.

    ¡°Something like that.¡±

    Such rude things she says without a care in the world. Has she forgotten I¡¯m royalty? Surely she has.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll leave you be.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps- perhaps you can find the will to return another time?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t make good company. Such matters seem wholly above me.¡±

    ¡°At least take a copy of the scriptures!¡±

    ¡°A copy? Alright.¡±

    I no longer care for the venture she parades. To preach at the gallows, earning desperate converts in the dusks of their lives. There is nothing behind her words but rabid ignorance, a lack of wisdom paved over with guile. I say now with certainty that the Gods are empty fonts, no more substantive than the maddest wiles of leylines, the thickest mists of Katze, or the most solvent-rich scars of the d?mon scourge. I strip them of their Godhead, of their exaltation. Mark it a fundamental thing of our world, and they simply interlopers to its title.

    Renner stood and patted the creases out of her dress. Ena hastily snatched a book off the floor, and after dusting it off, pushed it into Renner¡¯s arms. Renner folded it under her right, and after retrieving her hat, she walked out.

    Ah, in my zealotry, I left a thing unturned. If the Gods were truly crude beings, historical and nothing more, then how were they fashioned? In garish terms, where lies their origin?

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (5)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 20]

    With a quick detour to her room to freshen her makeup, Renner braced to return to the ongoing riots.

    I should at least make a token showing today. Perhaps ingratiate myself with brother-dearest and Raeven. The convenience of it is still frighteningly lustrous, all the more cause to doubt it. I should simply speak with the pair, sense the links between them.

    Renner stood up from her vanity and stretched languidly. She lightly lamented not having time for a bath, the subtle stench of the day still clinging to her body. With a moment¡¯s thought, she swept her dexter hand across the desk to snatch a vial of perfume. Undoing the stopper with her other, she applied a dab to the base of her head, spreading it swiftly. It was a flowery fragrance, one she had selected to match those she wove in her hair.

    This will have to suffice for now. Though, considering the emotions rippling through that space, I expect the well-worn stench of agitated menfolk and their outbursts to fill the room. Much has been made about the smell of violence in its aftermath, the metallic hang of gore in the air, cooked flesh and the like; such a thing is an olfactory misnomer. Violence has a different tinge in its genesis, that of sweat, spittle, and alcohol. That such a thing is indistinct from the scent of jubilation is an irony my kin will never grasp. At once a toast to joy and death, harbinger of drunken rage.

    She satisfied herself with a quick sniff, returning the stopper to its bottle. After one last inspection in the mirror, she broke away, exiting her bedroom. Opening and shutting the door gently, she looked out the window to her left, spotting both an outgoing and incoming footman. The traffic had yet to let up, the palace still filled to the brim with noblemen. With the night of the sixteenth having scattered the wake-sleep periods of nobles, Couriers and other messengers departed at all times, be it the height of day or deep into the night. Renner watched the pair pass each other, the two men almost colliding in their haste.

    Speaking of cropsickness, I still can¡¯t scry who that woman was, nor his purpose in sending her. Some noblewoman of the Imperial court? I regret missing it now; I had not thought things would play out any other way but standard, I would have attended. The¡­ default rejection, as it were. Considering the words she delivered, it was probably some ironic twist or snub, some compounding joke Jircniv saw fit to play. I doubt it is of proper significance. Lo, peace - unless a froth-mouthed warmonger dares raid across the border. I doubt such a thing would happen though; Harlink and Bajan are busy reeling, and it''s not as if Wagner has any such ability to prosecute a campaign.

    Thankfully, the palace was not overfull, the cost of traveling to Valencia and then staying in Re-Estize for an extended period of time too great for many lower nobles to bear. About half the attended barons had left for good, a smaller portion of the counts as well. A few spoke of their plans to return, making mad dashes to their demesne to sort out imminent business before returning for the rest of proceedings. Renner broke from the window, heading to exit her room. A maid was present, but Renner saw fit to simply ignore her.

    Finally things seem fit to unwind, though several days later than expected. The rats will hopefully scatter in droves now; flee this burning palace, and return to their warrens. Rats have such, yes? No matter. Ah, malady brews in my heart. I still can¡¯t quite grasp the gall of Ena-

    Renner¡¯s thoughts seized, causing her to shudder. Images of Barbro filled her mind; the sharp crevices of his face, the uniform-like jackets he always insisted on wearing, the wild quivers in lips when his mind alit. A deep anger burst in her. For a sharp instant, he and her loathing of him was the only thing in her mind.

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, Parheli. I just came upon a recollection.¡±

    No, Chardelon, you¡¯re avoiding him. It¡¯s strange how deeply my hatred runs for him, the agony he represents. He would have ripped me from the world, ran me through. Had his dreams came to fruition, my head would be rotting on a pike, my vitality staining the earth. He would take his birthright and dash it. What- what a cruel twist that is. What a horrid and sadistic thing. That he would be given a kingdom to waste. I so desperately wish I could send Lakyus and her ilk to slit his throat, to spill his blood and his insides onto the ground, to wreath the gallows anew with a fool and a betrayer. He would have taken Climb from me, had he won. I despise him.

    Renner gave an apologetic nod to the maid, before continuing to the door. Parheli rushed ahead, opening it for her. Renner stepped out into the corridor and began to walk.

    The actual ending of him, how sweet a cup to drink from. A swift blade to the back, drippings of a beast¡¯s maw running through his veins; perhaps something more¡­ lively. Death on the battlefield? As if he would dare enter it. No, he¡¯s a white-livered commander best fit to lurk in a tent. Assassination there though would perhaps be ideal. An easy excuse. But in what war? An annual one? Untenable, such an escalation would lead to further, more complete destruction. A monster unleashed, a Kingdom burned in arcane flame, a house sundered and slaughtered. It- it can¡¯t work, can it?

    Renner approached the spot where Climb and Teloran had fought their duel. The carpet that had run its length was gone, the window hastily boarded as pockmarks of the violence. Already, the sensations it roused in her had begun to dull, no longer the sharp crisis it inspired in her mind. She was grateful for graying, a subtle realization that violence was likely to become an indelible part of her life. She strode past without a second thought, building a pace and poise of one wholly undisturbed or unaware of the horror.

    It can¡¯t. What would it take to close his story? My half-wit brother would already need to be firmly entrenched on the throne, not in waiting as he is now. Those who would mount retaliations to his death would need to be disempowered, disabled, or dismembered; Bolloupe certainly, perhaps Lytton and Blumrush. A total reaping of House Vaiself¡¯s enemies, within and without; of Zanac¡¯s enemies. Of mine. Strange to think I can be said to possess them. By no way did I scry such a thing at the outset.

    Renner made her way out of the quarter-wing of the third floor, walking down one of the main halls. It was dotted with pairs or triplets of highbloods, many locked in conversation. Renner earned her typical glances passing through the space, giving polite nods as greetings. That these were usual interactions were a sign that the nobility was already healing from the night of the sixteenth, people no longer treating her as if she might shatter. She had - for all the outward trauma of that night - endured, a Vaiself princess through thick and thin. Within a moment, she had found her way to the strategic forum, the knight at the door waving her by.

    No, I¡¯ll have to settle for lesser plotting. A ¡°political¡± end. Humiliation that does not provoke kinetic response, Valleon¡¯s supremacy by way of some total victory. Aggravating, I- I hate this. Hatred, pure and true. How shackled I am. I do not wish Lakyus to pity me, though if only she could shatter them. An eternal crisis. I must escape with Climb, creep off to a demesne where I can seize him and be free from everything that has been thrust upon me. How I yearn for liberty. Back to the present, then.

    Renner stepped in and tasted the emotions of the room. The flavor was wrong, and she had to hold herself from a click of the tongue.

    People should be taking their lunch by now, yet this place is still brimming with life. Why are we still absent normalcy? Something is wrong. Do the fools seriously intend to prosecute a war?

    She flicked her eyes through the space. It was half full, the three long tables - one set aside for a map interposed between two for sitting - smattered with clumps of men. Many of the titled men were gone, but aids or representatives were still lingering. Worse, although some were locked in conversation, many were unengaged with their fellows; jittering their legs or staring absently out the window. They were waiting.

    There¡¯s to be an announcement, but of what? If it was an imminent throw of the iron dice, the men themselves would be here, with their retinues in full. For a message from the crown, I would have been explicitly summoned for the typical unified front. This can¡¯t be unimportant, for in such a case the lot would have broken for a meal, not half. This is wholly unseeming. I must be feeble-minded, for I cannot understand what¡¯s happening at all.

    Renner sighed, choosing to inspect the space closer. To her displeasure, several members of Theiern¡¯s and Helgrave¡¯s command staff were clustered in a corner, confusing the scene even further for her. Her eyes brushed against her brother and Marquis Raeven. The pair were sitting in two of the seats furthest from the entrance. To her amazement, they appeared to be lost in each other, Zanac displaying an unusual level of animation as he expressed his words. The marquis appeared to make an inaudible quip, Zanac bursting into a fit of laughter.

    Why the revelry? Pray tell brother, lost in your flask again? It does seem they have genuine rapport. Wonderful. Now, to vanquish my ignorance of the subject at hand.

    Renner began to advance towards the pair, rounding the room. Zanac was far more readable than Raeven, though the little flits in his motion revealed him to also be drunk. As she approached from the side, Raeven finally became aware of her presence, drawing himself up and cocking his head. Noticing his companion stiffen, Zanac turned back in his chair, face twitching before he gave a greeting.

    ¡°Sister! Finally done playing with our family¡¯s matriarch?¡±

    If she was here to hear that, we would have a Queen Unsandra by the afternoon.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little mean, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°It''s true! She is our Matriarch. She has given Pespea a son, a son again, and a daughter.¡±

    A son, daughter, son actually. Do you pay so little attention to goings on?

    Renner slipped into the free chair left of Zanac, catching his face twitch twice.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, brother. She is the matriarch now, no?¡±

    ¡°Hm, I believe so.¡±

    ¡°Aunt Ezenine has long since passed, and my mother had nothing but brothers.¡±

    Both Raeven and Zanac seemed to slow at her words. Renner¡¯s mother, Julie Etsana Unulia Elya Vaiself, was - to most - a complicated and tragic subject. Her name was always broached with care around Renner, something that, in her opinion, bordered on comedy. Renner knew little of her mother, possessing only faint memories and hearsay. With the exception of Ramposa, who lost himself in forlorn recollections of Estana - and to warm reassurances of how much Renner reminded him of her - her half-siblings and the nobility as a whole avoided the late queen entirely.

    "I-indeed, Your Highness.¡±

    People always tighten when I mention her. Ironic, for I have nothing of her ¡®cept looks and blood. Lulara musn¡¯t either, How could we be expected too? It''s akin to asking Zanac of Nunia; what could he know of her? Little to nothing; her end came too soon and too swift for him.

    ¡°Yes. Oh, and please forgive me for not giving proper introduction, Marquis.¡±

    ¡°I committed the same disrespect, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Happy to see we¡¯re of a mind, then.¡±

    Ramposa had made the mistake of marrying for love; worse, he had done so twice. After the first seven years of his reign, once the campaigns and consolidations he waged finally tempered the north and dragged House Urovana out of its worst days, Ramposa had found the time to take a wife. The eldest daughter of House Nunia had long since caught his eye, and after a proposal and stout engagement, he and Parheli Nunia Theiere Junda were tied in matrimony. In typical fashion for Ramposa¡¯s reign, Nunia¡¯s house of origin collapsed in a violent end only five weeks after the wedding. The details of those events forty years prior were indistinct and unreliable to Renner, but the success of her engagement had somehow fouled the works of a scheme put into play by her second brother; this set a number of political traps off early, snapping the reputations of many in two, including himself. His solution was primal revenge, the rote murder of his brothers and the turning of house forces against themselves, culminating in the razing of the family¡¯s manor.

    ¡°What of Ezenine¡¯s daughters?¡±

    No quip? That was a choice opportunity you missed. I¡¯ll forge one for you, ¡°I¡¯d hope not.¡± Since when does drink dull his tongue? He truly intends to continue this talk? To what end?

    ¡°Can they be said to count, brother? No Vaiself blood runs through their veins.¡±

    ¡°True. I suppose she is.¡±

    With the end of House Nunia, House Ynra was left as the only remaining ducal family in the kingdom. That Ynra too would collapse within the year was another of the twisted ironies that defined Ramposa¡¯s rule. The reasons were entirely unrelated, decades of financial mismanagement leading to a similar breakdown and spree-killing. That both ducal lines were severed in such a short span led to a bevy of other crises. He would go a further six years before attempting to sire a child with the now Queen Nunia, and when he did, a crown prince would be born. The young Barbro would soon be joined by a sister, then a brother. Then, one day, Nunia would suffer a stupid and meaningless end at the hooves of an unruly riding mare who bucked and dashed her for little reason at all. It was without warning, a death completely unfit for a queen.

    ¡°Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What did you two do? Simply ran a circuit round the city?¡±

    Displaying interest in our sister further still? Why? You¡¯ve lost me Igana.

    ¡°Indeed, we spent the morning at the shops. There was a new hatmaker from Arwintar she wished to visit.¡±

    ¡°Pining for those who screwed us over yesterday, I see.¡±

    ¡°Brother, this is no occasion for vulgarity. Sans that, wasn¡¯t an accord of peace?¡±

    ¡°If you can call it that, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so that was true, Marquis? I heard there was some turmoil.¡±

    ¡°There was. Their declaration of intention was filled with little else but insults. Worse, it was delivered by¡­ well, it''s no matter.¡±

    ¡°Where is she now?¡±

    He¡¯s pushing. Quizzical. He¡¯s never cared for such matters of womenfolk before, except perhaps their affections. Not for vixens, but vitality? An inner metamorphosis for him, shame it took this nation throwing itself off a cliff to spurn as such. Brother-dearest, don¡¯t you know we¡¯re standing on thin air?

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Who, that woman?¡±

    ¡°No, how did you even- nevermind that. Where is our dear Telon?¡±

    ¡°Where, rather, who else? With our brother by marriage. Oh, speaking of which, why isn¡¯t he here?¡±

    Her death was violating and shattering for Ramposa; in the wake of the accident, he refused to leave his quarters for a week. Another month would pass before he returned to his duties in full. He had spent the time after pursuing others, though less from desire and more from the vacuum left. It was thus that he - in the depths of his despair - found his second wife. Julie Unulia Elya Estana was an unlikely companion for the king, not of any family with a marquis; rather, that of a count. This did not matter to him, and damming the consequences, the pair fed the whirlwind and would wed within the year.

    ¡°Here, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming we¡¯re on the eve of something. Brother, we aren¡¯t to shatter the peace first, are we?¡±

    The now Queen Estana had always been ill, a frailty of body - and if the blackest of rumors were to be believed, of mind as well. Her mortal existence was perilous and fragile, and for every malady that threatened to claim her, she fought to stay out of the earth. Both she and Ramposa wished to consummate their marriage, though pregnancy - not to mention childbirth - was another tribulation altogether. Thus was three seasons of suffering, capstoned by the worst agony a person could endure. She survived, and as a monument to her effort, House Vaiself was granted its second princess.

    What of family? Our function as a unit? We have lost some through a combination of Barbro doing his best and Zanac his worst, though it''s not as if the Vaiself name isn¡¯t potent. With this, our appearances will warp, break, and reform to a new paradigm. One that is not unified, but is of such strong will to appear as such. With time, this will have turned from embarrassment to general respect. That slap, which so benefited me and Zanac, will end up benefiting Barbro as well, however minor. What of the tighter conceptions?

    That Estana was pregnant again by the time Lulara turned one was unimaginable. If Lulara was a miracle, then Renner, born on the seventh day of the month of upper fire, twenty-fourth year of Foresai, was an impossibility. Estana never recovered, the tonics of physicians and supplications of clerics giving her another two years with her husband and children. Eventually, her ailments set upon her in force and refused to break, her form simply seizing and falling apart.

    ¡°Are you daft? You would have been summoned in such a case.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I suspected, but the comings of things seem so martial.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, they are.¡±

    ¡°Pray tell, the cause?¡±

    What she did have of Estana was scant: some vague sensation of a towering figure that embraced her, a tight and warm thing; the hem of a dress sliding across the floor, Renner stepping on it and earning a chiding; the sound of laughter in a voice that the mortal world had long since lost. Renner felt cold to the subject. There was no sense of love, nor of loss; rather, a distant fear that such a thing could happen to her.

    All I know of her was her funeral. Though I suppose fourteen years distant, that day remains vivid. The rights, her undertaking. That piece of lace I kept fiddling with on my dress. Ah, I remember the controversy of that day. It was one of the first events I needed to wear my crown for, I kept fidgeting with it. Eh? How embarrassing, even all these years later. All my errors in that time, before I learned the value of hiding. It was an unwitting march into danger on my part. Simply another thing to be grateful to Climb for.

    She and Lulara both were caught in the legacy of their mother, both being bedridden at points throughout her childhood. The worst for Renner came when she was four, a deadly fever that, once latched to her, did not break for ten days. She had avoided serious illness since then, though the thought of its return had never quite left her mind. As to the source of her blood, a mother was just another thing she would never have. She was raised by the maidstaff inclined to nanny, though she never fully bonded with them. For all the material care they gave in raising her, their work bore a fundamental dispassion, one she would mirror as she aged. Renner was a favorite of the father and little else.

    ¡°Explain it to her, Marquis.¡±

    ¡°To have the assault on the borderlands two months ago, then a second ten days prior; an assault on the palace, you and your brother included; the knight marshals; and now this vampire! What¡¯s the Kingdom coming to?¡±

    Verily? Then I suppose this gathering makes perfect sense, no special imposition for ceremony; rather, a rote recognition of danger. Gods- or I suppose their empty thrones above, a vampire! What an odd twist.

    ¡°Brother, what¡¯s this business with a¡­ I don¡¯t wish to speak its name¡­ this business with an undead?¡±

    ¡°A runner came in from E-Rantel. The Adventurer''s guild there received reports of a powerful one somewhere in the duchy.¡±

    ¡°Powerful? How horrifying.¡±

    ¡°Something like that, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°You needn¡¯t avoid the word, sister.

    ¡°But it feels so vile.¡±

    ¡°Then it''s fit to spill from your mouth, no?¡±

    I knew you to be one for jest in front of others, but outright disdain? You¡¯re dearly lucky Raeven is Royalty Faction. Were he to take those words and spread them, they would in turn take half the Kingdom¡¯s gossip. Do you know? It¡¯s not impossible, though half-full cups are rarely sufficient for such deductions. Ah, a response. Zanac, you have overextended yourself. Lo, to cut.

    ¡°I¡­ um, d-do you think so?¡±

    ¡°I think, Your Highness, your brother¡¯s wit has been unfettered by drink.¡±

    A bifurcated siege? No, it''s a genuine rally in his favor. He¡¯s saving Zanac face to me. What purpose does that serve? Royal family unity perhaps, or has Raeven thrown his sword fully on Zanac¡¯s scale? If such was given to a lesser man - or I suppose by as well - such an interjection would lead to anger and a falling out, a dull guffaw to ¡°not speak over a prince.¡± Raeven is not a lesser man, and he knows Zanac isn¡¯t either. They¡¯re bound.

    Renner¡¯s inner face twisted into a smile. She had sown the seeds of such a relationship only a week prior, expecting it to take tender care to grow. Lo, it was already in bloom.

    Thus, to shift objectives. I forged my opposite from the void; now, to force them to the table. I shall offer King Valleon a sword pointed at his foe¡¯s heart. All he needs to do is take it and plunge.

    ¡°S-sorry, Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine, Igana. I don¡¯t find myself given over to much pride as of life.¡±

    ¡°All¡­ All, uh-¡±

    ¡°All correct then?¡±

    ¡°Yes! All correct.¡±

    ¡°Raeven, you mentioned that- er no it was Zanac- that this vampire possessed strength. How much?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain on the details, Your Highness. Said something about an iron rank team that got wiped out.¡±

    Wait, simple iron ranks? They fall to the jaws of death all the time, no?

    ¡°Iron ranks?¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s what he said; I didn¡¯t catch the details either.¡±

    ¡°Shame, though I do wonder what Ainzach will give us.¡±

    ¡°You would know better than I, Marquis. Actually, sister, with the amount of time you spend with the fairest Aindra, you may have a better sense for these things than I do.¡±

    ¡°On Adventurous endeavors? Perhaps I do.¡±

    ¡°In any case, are iron teams significant?¡±

    ¡°I hate to be callous, but not particularly.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°To my understanding - which admittedly isn¡¯t that good.¡±

    ¡°No, no, Her Highness is right.¡±

    ¡°Surprising.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Good. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t give much more than that, Your Highness; they should return with something more complete soon.¡±

    ¡°All things well to be¡­¡±

    The conversation died, and the triplet sat in silence for a time. On a flit, Renner snapped her fingers to summon a maid, requesting a glass of water. Raeven did the same, and at that, she found cause to get Zanac one as well. He had gone non-verbal, ignoring her imposition by nursing his flask. Minutes passed, a few others trickling out of the room, a few in. Finally, the doors to the hall swung open, in walking the a frazzled footman of the Re-Estize adventurers guild. His entrance went unnoticed to most, his face red and hair slick from the heat of the day. Without a fraction of the decorum of the typical representatives, the man simply drew his scroll - and after a few stout coughs - proceeded to speak. By his fifth word, half the room had turned, and suddenly kept silent.

    ¡°Presenting a message from Guild-Master Pluton Ainzach of the E-Rantel Adventurers Guild.¡±

    No fanfare? Perhaps it is unneeded now. I doubt a vampire bears any pretense of respect here.

    ¡°Yesterday, our guild hall in E-Rantel assigned two iron ranked adventurer teams Red Glave and Dungeon Breakers to a request to search and destroy the base of a band of highwaymen to the north of the city. The band, known as the Death Spreading Brigade, has continually harrassed merchant caravans, local farmers, and other passerbys for the last six months.¡±

    Ah, the Death Spreading Brigade. Lakyus had mentioned stalkers by that name. If the wildest rumors of the maidstaff are to be believed, they would place Brain Unglaus among that number; I had believed it untrue, but Gagaran¡¯s reassurances were not made as intentional falsehood.

    ¡°They were believed to have significantly experienced bladesmen in their company, and represented a significant threat to trade traffic to and from the Tob forest region. Dungeon Breakers would travel out of the city northwards, before sweeping back southward through the adjacent forests, where they would meet with Red Glave. In this way, we intended to pincer the bandits from both sides.¡±

    So the guild found time to hunt them down? Isn¡¯t sending iron teams then a recipe for chaos? Ah, if they have traveled to E-Rantel, that means they either abandoned their job with Eight Fingers, or the leadership cut them off. Either way, it would indicate practicality.

    ¡°That night, a single member of the team Red Glave reported in - a woodland ranger by the name of Davic - claiming that he had been sent back to E-Rantel to request reinforcements. He reported that their team had found a walking-corpse with intact flesh - in adventurer parlance, a ¡®zombie¡¯ - in their search area, which they destroyed upon sight. At the time he departed, his team had traveled over two leagues distant from the city. We, fearing the presence of an unknown necrotic threat in the region - which, with the exception of the city¡¯s cemetery - was assumed to have been cleared, ordered the dispatch of the gold rank team Dawn ¡®Till Dusk. Along with the iron rank forester, the gold rank team was given the objective to find the source of the undead, and if possible destroy it.¡±

    Ainzach is being humble; ¡°we,¡± a joke. He made that call himself, but he doesn¡¯t want to self-congratulate. Clever.

    ¡°About two miles outside the city they encountered a panicked and incoherent woman, whom the ranger recognized as a member of Red Glave, Brita. After mundane methods failed to calm her, the Dawn ¡®Till Dusk¡¯s cleric resorted to the use of a prayer, which worked to soothe her. Brita then reported that Red Glave had been slaughtered, that she was the lone survivor of that team, and that their hunter was none other than a vampire.¡±

    The room stiffened, several shifting in their seats. Renner shot a hand to her mouth, opening her lips with a slight click and inhale. Despite her higher self, a shiver ran down her spine, the image the guild footman had conveyed sharp in her mind.

    An excellent delivery on his part, the imposition of violent death, making humans seem as if prey. All the more important to grind these things into us. He¡¯s undoubtedly trying to wrench aid, though I doubt he¡¯ll speak such words explicitly.

    ¡°Although an iron ranked team is not a comparable match in combat to even the weakest of vampire kind, we have reason to believe that this vampire is of significant strength; these being Brita¡¯s description of the events, and the physical evidence we later recovered of the site where they were assaulted. The vampire is believed to have been in a blood frenzy when it assaulted - a state of literal, uncontrollable blood-thirst. However, the vampire was able to successfully delineate priority targets when the adventurer team approached, moving past Brita to assault the backline. When Brita threw a potion of healing as a last defense, the vampire bore the attack without taking significant injury. The vampire then stopped its assault for unknown reasons, shed its leech-like form, assumed the appearance of an adolescent woman in a ball gown, and then proceeded to mentally dominate Brita. This, along with target selection, indicates a high-level of self control, one only prevalent in older and more powerful vampires.¡±

    It simply ripped her mind away from her? They can do such things? Terrifying. Absolute control over another, not by fear, or by coercion, but by overwhelming supremacy of make. What would happen to me in such a grasp? Would I simply slag in her hands? What then? This Brita seems to have survived, but I can¡¯t see how.

    ¡°Brita was then interrogated by the vampire for unknown reasons, with it asking about the source of her potion. Healing potions by their nature harm undead beings, and their production represents a threat, both in their ability to be used directly as weapons and to bolster their hunts. This again indicates age, with older vampires taking great care to eliminate any tactical or strategic hazards in their domains. In addition, Brita noted the presence of several other undead in her midst, including two vampires. Normally, vampires can create weaker vampires as thralls from those they kill. However, the two thralls Brita spotted were of incredibly uniform and beautiful appearance. They too displayed deference, self-control, and ability far beyond that of a newly created thrall. It is likely that they were not newly created, but rather, old vampires in the service of the leader. Vampires do not often submit to others of their kind in a mistress-servant dynamic. We believe that this is a vampire lord; one that has been able to obtain others of its kind as servants, be this through creation or domination.¡±

    It''s a strange sort of unlife. For us, the body withers, the mind growing until that too suddenly gives way to ailments. But for beings like that, I suppose it''s a simple, straight escalation. The body does not grow weak, the mind honing it day after day ad infinitum. I wonder what sort of existence that would be? To be undead, to thirst for blood of lesser species, to wake up every day in a coffin - verily, or is that just a stupid myth? Eh, what am I thinking? Pray tell, Chardelon, are you to make a mad dash for immortality? If such a thing were to ever happen, Lakyus would run me through herself. Comical.

    ¡°Other undead included aforementioned zombies, bats, wolves, the latter two of which we believe to be vampiric. After Brita was forced to tell the vampire that Davic had departed back to E-Rantel, the vampire left the area along with her servants to conduct a search. After a time, Brita¡¯s domination faded, whereupon she then fled southward. Later investigation of the area by Dungeon Breakers and Dawn ¡®Till Dusk lead to the discovery of what we believe was the Death Spreading Brigade¡¯s base, filled with two score zombies of what we presume were its former members.¡±

    That humankind even exists is a miracle. We cannot stand in the face of such creatures without losing ourselves, and yet we continue to be. What of schemes? Of information? She must have been intentionally released, I don¡¯t understand how it could have been otherwise. Are we perhaps sheep of a kind? Can chattel know they¡¯re chattel without fetters? One massive pen that stretched from Aserzalia to- to the sea?

    ¡°That this vampire has remained, up until now, unknown to us, indicates that it has either been successful in controlling information about its existence, or has migrated from another location. Although fortunate, it is unknown why Brita was able to make her escape, and why Davic was able to unwittingly evade the undead pursuers in the area. This vampire represents a significant and imminent threat to the safety of E-Rantel and its surrounding counties. We have conducted emergency meetings, and are putting together a task force to find and eliminate this monster. We will collaborate with our adventurer teams, other domestic halls, local outfitters and suppliers, the city administration, the duchy, and the crown. Respectfully, Pluton Ainzach.¡±

    Ah my mind runs wild at this! Is this the sort of elation doom sayers know? The feverous visions of men torn limb from limb by beasts and brutes, breaching bulwarks and breaking the world? Things foul and black unsealed, an end without reckoning. Something akin to a return of Landfall? Calm yourself. I am far too enthralled.

    ¡°Marquis?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I think it sounds worrying, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Sister?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re shaking.¡±

    Of course I am. How can one not be at such words? Brother, do you not realize what he is saying? The scale of events? To bind other vampires? The very fact that this announcement is being made at all. Why is his reaction so tepid? I- Ah, he thinks little of Ainzach. How base.

    Renner stayed her shiver, realizing all at once the errors in her judgment. Lakyus had long since spoken the praises of Ainzach, calling him a rigid and practical man, one who always skipped to the actual matters without cajoling or kowtowing to the teams he worked with. This was a requirement of his line of work, adventurers not a group to mislead or trick into unexpectedly difficult tasks. Zanac knew nothing of this.

    They see it as a girlish fear of the unknown, not an actual consideration. How narrow of sight and mind is my blood? Are they so nearsighted they can¡¯t see ¡®clear our borders? It¡¯s infuriating. We are human; this world is less than hospitable to our kind. To not throw resources at the guild is foolish. Is there anything to do here? Ah, yes, one with triplet benefits.

    ¡°Eh? I apologize. Igana?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I suppose we pass Rettenmaier a payment, no? Something for him to hand to Ainzach.¡±

    To bolster the guild, to bolster my name, to bolster Zanac¡¯s, to bolster House Vaiself, to bolster the faction, and for his spendthrift treason, to weaken Barbro.

    ¡°Contribution on a personal basis?¡±

    ¡°Something like that, a token of the family.¡±

    ¡°Doable. What were you thinking?¡±

    A token weight. Too heavy for that baleful brother of mine to part with, too light for a refusal to be excusable.

    ¡°One-half.¡±

    ¡°Platinum? A large sum.¡±

    ¡°The right thing, no?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but such a sum-¡±

    ¡°Is needed for adamantite causes.¡±

    ¡°Hm, true. Alright, I¡¯ll match you standard for standard.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful!¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call the occasion wonderful, Chardelon. The emergence of a creature- er, undead like this is a tragic event.¡±

    You¡¯re a child fitting at the taste of his tonics. Accept a victory when you can, Zanac.

    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t mean anything like that. More akin to¡­ um¡­ hm.¡±

    ¡°N-nevermind. I understood what you meant.¡±

    ¡°All correct, then. Thank you, brother.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    If Zanac is cunning enough, he¡¯ll let it slip near a maid - as will I.

    ¡°Hm, perhaps more, you think?¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡±

    What is he- Ah, he¡¯s too dazed by alcohol to see it. Thus, to bludgeon him over the head until he notices.

    ¡°Anything to subsidize the guild. Perhaps I seek aid from our brother?¡±

    ¡°Our brother? Why from¡­ from him?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t he provide additional wealth? I haven¡¯t the faintest clue as to Vena¡¯s ability to contribute.¡±

    ¡°He- he ought to.¡±

    And I¡¯ve led him to it. I¡¯m so proud of you Zanac, you¡¯ve displayed a keen grasp of the obvious! Surely you¡¯ve earned your crown now, Gods above; you have the cunning of a child - the discipline of one as well. How is your breath tainted with alcohol so early in the day? That I have to force such an obvious thing into your hands!

    Renner gave a light smile, Zanac returning a darker one.

    This Kingdom needs you as its regent, and that you shall be, but I will need to be its ruler. This is a day of vile things; that the lands I call my own may be fashioned an abattoir, and then that I may be cursed to manage them. Tedium without end.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (6)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 21]

    One-thirty-five. One-thirty-six. One-thirty-seven. One-thirty-eight. One-thirty-nine. One-forty.

    Climb pushed himself off the ground, back rigid and flat. His palms were slick, pressed against the cold stone floor below as he raised his chest. His entire body drenched in sweat, or in those few bare places, salt-laden residue.

    One-forty-one. One-forty-two¡­ forty- uh, forty¡­ shit.

    Climb snagged, and sighed. He could often count clear to sixty, everything after that becoming harder to track in his mind as his throat burned and his body set aflame. That he had actually made it to one-hundred-forty without fail was significant, and he had wished to complete his set without his typical overextension. Now, that sure goal was lost, he simply estimating the remainder of his workout.

    Well I was at one-forty something, so I¡¯ll just say one-forty and call it for the morning.

    Climb burst out another ten, pumping his body with whatever strength he had left. As a final measure of defiance, he did not collapse to the ground when done, rather, forcing himself out of his form upward into a standing position. He stood stock for a time, ripping whatever breath he could from the air, head turned to face the ceiling in his room. A slack smile grew on his face - having his own room was very convenient. Not needing to make a full commitment to time in the training tower every morning, he could simply roll out of bed and begin his regimen. He blinked twice, realizing that his shirt was soaked through.

    I should wash. I did a lot today. A little under¡­ what, double what I usually do? Still, I should go for a run later. Can I? I would need to leave the palace, unless Jelka- er¡­ no, he¡¯s not in command anymore. Not since the Black Night.

    Climb shuddered slightly, his arms hanging limp by his sides. He stripped off his shirt, its white color having turned diaphanous from the moisture. It struck the floor with a squelch. He snatched a towel Renner had gifted him off the ground, rubbing his face before turning and exiting his room. Serendipity meant that the man who roomed across from him, Royal Guard Macnamera, happened to enter the hall at the same time.

    ¡°Sir.¡±

    ¡°Adjutant.¡±

    Adjutant? Since when¡­  my position is assistant, though I suppose it doesn¡¯t sound as weighty.. Y-yeah, I suppose it''s close.

    An embarrassed smile twitched across his face, odd inversions beginning to play at Climb¡¯s life. He knew not how - though Keveleos was a sure guess - but word of his rescue of the princess had slipped into the broader swath of Re-Estize¡¯s gossip; even more inconvenient, it was quite a dramatized telling. He had done his best to keep his tellings of the event dry, interrogation after interrogation the morning of the seventeenth stripping any color that event might have tainted his words, but many people had seen him as a vanguard, blade in hand - armor stained in his own blood - with the Golden Princess in his other. For all their politicking, this was the sort of chivalrous tale that the knighthood lived for - and often died trying to write. Thus, with the exception of those most beholden to the whims of Noble Factioners and their lackeys, Climb¡¯s image had jumped sharply in the eyes of the Valencian Knights, and even those further afield. Macnamara¡¯s simple greeting was a mark of this metamorphosis, a fundamental change in his perception.

    Yeah, water and cleaning, I ought to do that now.

    Climb pirouetted in place, turning to the right and starting to walk. The wash room was close - only twenty paces distant - yet Climb spent over a minute in getting there, sore and exhausted. Slipping into the room where they were kept, Climb looked round to see who was present. Uncharacteristically, no-one was, and finding the nearest empty stall, unceremoniously doffed the rest of his clothes and yanked the handle in front of him. This opened a flap above his head, water flowing out of a perforated wooden grid no more than half a span in either direction. This was connected to a trough of water above Climb¡¯s head that ran the length of the wall, with a number of other stations like the one he stood at. This had the effect of ¡°showering¡± Climb with water, which he used to clean himself.

    The princess said that they had heated versions of these in the Empire, but I don¡¯t think I would want that. Need to cool off, too much magical heating will just make it worse. Actually, maybe in the winter, that would make sense. Its funny, after that bed she got me, I can totally see her shivering under something like-

    Climb seized, his mind filling with compromised images of his mistress. He cut himself off, immediately burrowing his head in his hands. With the heat of his training emulsified with that of his shame, his cheeks became uncomfortably warm. He turned his face into the stream of water, doing his best to purge himself of such thoughts. This did not work.

    Gods I- I can¡¯t think of her like that. She loves me, but to imagine her without¡­ without- why did I have to think about this now?!

    Climb lamented the fact that he was naked, and after banishing a few more painful thoughts, started to clean himself. He scored his body with a rag, before snatching a bar of pig tallow soap. This was - in typical fashion - another gift from Renner, something he couldn¡¯t help but snag on. He lathered his body, bubbles clinging to his skin before the cold drops burst them and carried them to his nethers. To his horror, they were not at rest. All this combined to ruin his wash, any relaxation he had hoped to yield flowing off of him and slipping into the drain below. He released the lever, before toweling himself off and wrapping himself in it. Clothing in hand, he broke from the stall.

    Don¡¯t think about it. Just dress and eat.

    Ro-Lante had been shaken by the events of the sixteenth, eight holes left in its ranks; three of the Palace Professional Guard, two of the Palace Knights, three of the Royal Guard. Worse, many were of separate positions, running the gamut from the lowest patrolmen to knight-officers ranking in higher roles - including specialists like Brendel. The consequences were immediate: gaps in patrols, men running themselves ragged on extended shifts, the entire defensive net spread thin. Climb himself had volunteered for additional duty, the remaining morass of Royal Guard happy to patchwork their charges with him. Of course, guarding the princess was never a task Climb would shirk.

    I know the circumstances are bad, but honestly, I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯m guarding her ¡®till after sundown, yes? That¡¯s almost a full sixteen hours.

    Climb grew a slight smile, not able to hide his excitement for the day to come. In quiet moments, he could let his senses slip and turn inward to hear her profession of love yet again. For all the evil of that night, those three cherished words she spoke had rung inside his head ever since. Any time with her was all the more desired for it. It was a strange thing to say, for he had so wholly devoted himself to her in the decade prior, but Climb felt closer to her than ever before.

    I love her. I¡¯ll serve her however she needs. She¡¯s such a wonderful human being; the way she cares for the people¡­ the way she cares for me. It¡¯s so sweet of her. She has such a beautiful soul, the only truly good member of her family. Is that a thing that royals deal with? A lack of empathy? I guess it would make sense, at least with how Zanac and¡­ him treat people. If so, then that makes her all the more impressive. She¡¯s pure. I love her so much.

    He began to walk to his room, entering the corridor outside the washroom. Slipping onto the path back to his room, a subtle tinge slipped into his senses. He realized he was being watched. He slowed, then turned back. Jonnah was spying him from a distance, leaning against a wall five paces distant. His face was confused, a blend of what Climb assumed were sorrow and rage. Jonnah did little, not acknowledging that Climb had noticed him. His chest rose and fell, his gaze cold and unfocused.

    He¡¯s having a rough time of it. I can¡¯t blame him. We all are.

    Though the lower ranks had seen devastation, the command structure had been outright shattered. Jelka¡¯s resignation was damaging - leaving both the fortress without its commander and the Royal Guard without its captain - but Ekhan¡¯s death was a decapitation. He had served as the de facto leader of Valencia¡¯s professional guard, his passing having ripped the heart out of the band. He had played advocate time and time again to the highblood portions of the palace¡¯s standing forces, extolling a view of his men not simply as City Guard stationed in a different spot, but men-at-arms of the same stripe and caliber as a knight - even if divorced from such status. He had kept order among the men, keeping track of their training in special detail, akin to Jelka¡¯s oversight of the entire force. He had protected Climb from the worst abuses of his fellows. Now, he was gone, and with it seemed to go his force.

    I miss him.

    Ekhan¡¯s position was not appointed, nor was it a rank; it was not an office that another could fill as was Jelka¡¯s. It was an informal and social post, one gained through the adoration and respect of the palace guard. None could step forward to fill that role, and though they bore ranks and positions, the utility of such structures in solving such a dilemma seemed slim to none. The Palace Professional Guard was scattered and demoralized. At the very least, a restructuring was imminent; whoever was to replace Jelka would himself appoint a new captain - likely highblooded. The blackest rumors spoke of dissolution altogether. Climb turned away from Jonnah and returned to his room.

    It feels selfish, but what¡¯ll happen to me through all this? I¡¯m not really worried, but something has to change, right?

    Closing the door behind him, he began to dress. He slipped into his underwear, linen underlayers, and socks, stepped into and fastened his boots, then threw a chain shirt overtop his tunic. It was dull steel, part of his old armor set that he had resorted to using with his mithril set under repair. His original equipment was never truly his to begin with, and the rest had been returned to the endlessly toiling hands of the quartermaster, Luka refitting it to an adolescent knight of similar age to Climb. Thus, Climb was left in a liminal space, having to substitute his full gear with a spare chain shirt and a tabard thrown overtop; it was embroidered with the symbol of House Vaiself, another hasty replacement to save his mistress face. Fully donned in his armor, Climb looked to his right, spotting his practice sword leaning against the wall.

    I don¡¯t want to be caught without a weapon, not after that night. Had I not had my sword¡­

    Climb snatched it off the wall and strapped it to his belt. He spent a moment feeling its weight by his side, struck by the sudden knowledge that what hung off of him could cause death. It was a strange realization to have, for Climb had already done exactly that - although with a different weapon. Vague flavors of the sword as symbol of status and actual instrument blended in his mind, but he failed to coalesce them into any coherent thoughts. After another moment in contemplation, he cleared his mind and left his room.

    Breakfast, I could really go for breakfast.

    Climb walked to the refectory, finding it half-full. It was pre-dawn, but the heightened state of defenses meant that many men than usual were either rousing for early duty or ending their shifts through the night. The guardhouse mess had thus stayed open through the full cycle of the heavens. That, combined with the diverse variety of food purchased for the planned second and third nights of the general council left without proper use following the chaos, meant that the kitchen simply gave up trying to make anything coherent. Instead, they resorted to the old tavern trick of a perpetual stew. Climb snatched a clean wooden bowl off of a stack and approached the vat where it was brewing, a large cast iron cauldron set over a stout wooden flame. It was manned by one of the cooks, a man named Ray, who turned his head up to greet Climb.

    ¡°Morning.¡±

    ¡°Morning.¡±

    ¡°This breakfast or supper for you?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast.¡±

    Ray gesticulated vaguely in Climb¡¯s direction, Climb handing over his bowl. Ray plunged his ladle into the pot, Climb losing track of it in the murky depths of the broth. He fished up a scoop and poured it into the bowl, then a second; an indistinct mass of vegetables and meat sinking to the bottom. Ray paused, inspecting the bowl for a moment.

    ¡°How long is your shift?¡±

    ¡°Till dusk.¡±

    Ray huffed and cocked his head sympathetically, dipping into the vat a third time to retrieve a much larger chunk of meat, setting it in the bowl.

    ¡°Bread?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Ray turned round, breaking off a large piece of bread set on a rack, a little mote of steam escaping as it cracked. Plopping in his bowl, he handed it back to climb, along with a spoon.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Ray said nothing, gesturing to a man behind Climb. Climb walked off, and immediately was struck with the dilemma of where to sit. He spun round in place, searching for a seat.

    I don¡¯t think I can sit with the guards. Getting a room was bad enough, but without Ekhan here, I don¡¯t think they''ll want me at-

    ¡°Adjutant Climb, you want to join?¡±

    Climb tripped on those words, taking him a moment to internalize what had been said. He turned ¡®round to see that they came from Knight Jellen, a member of the Royal Guard. He and two others were sitting at a four seat table. Another moment spent on introspection, before Climb cocked his head, and found his words.

    ¡°I think I will, sir.¡±

    Climb approached and slipped into a free chair, setting his bowl on the table in front of him. He eyed his bread, and finding it soaked in broth, used it to scoop a small chunk of meat into his mouth.

    ¡°So, I¡¯ve heard about it second-hand, but I want to hear it from you. Tell me about your duel. I heard something mentioned about a scrabble on the ground?¡±

    If things stay like this, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll mind.

    ¡ª

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 21]

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Greetings. Identify.¡±

    ¡°Seven Blades. Counter identify.¡±

    ¡°The Friend in The Tower. Seven Blades? What happened to Fiendish Leader?¡±

    ¡°Not you too.¡±

    ¡°I love it! Evil Boss too. It has such an¡­ an energy to it.¡±

    ¡°It''s Seven Blades, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t stick, you know. Besides, Fiendish Leader and Evil Boss are far more secure terms anyway. No one would jump to a cleric of He Who Fonts as being a-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m never going to be free of this am I?¡±

    ¡°Not a chance, boss.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t- not- agh.¡±

    Renner suppressed herself, her laughter staying unvoiced yet floating across the message link. A slight sigh returned, Renner ignoring Lakyus¡¯s annoyance and absentmindedly taking a bite of her food - today, an egg lathered in a combination of yoke, butter, and the juices of a yuzu. This was a breakfast with her father, though far from being a typical one. Ramposa, on a flit, had requested the presence of his four children present in Re-Estize. It was thus that a chiding Ramposa, hushed Barbro, inquisitive Vena, cropsick Zanac, and aloof Renner all crammed into a space meant for ten.

    Wait, how is it possible for her to contact me? Hadn¡¯t her red-robed friend complained about the expense in scrolls to punch through palace drogues?

    ¡°Do tell, why aren¡¯t I being contacted by Evileye?¡±

    ¡°She and Gagaran are out. The twins and I are just lugging everything down to the warehouse, we¡¯re gonna be making runs all week.¡±

    So Lakyus is doing this unassisted? Can she speak such a spell? An arcane gadget? It''s the only thing that sounds plausible; must be close enough to have the mana to boot. Ah, what were the prefixes again? Eh? Any device they possess wouldn¡¯t have the capacity to break that wall at distance. Excluding all other prefixes, it should just be ¡®penetrate.¡¯ That would place them-

    ¡°You didn¡¯t depart pre-dawn did you? If not, you¡¯re making good time. I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s no specters haunting your footsteps, then.¡±

    ¡°We started a little before sunup, and no, there¡¯s no one tracking us. Wait, how did you know that we¡¯re moving fast?¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you in Telior village?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re just outside of it. Hold on.¡±

    The voice inside her head went silent, Renner slicing open an egg and absently watching it spill its insides. The table was also oddly quiet, with none of the Ryles willing to initiate, and Ramposa similarly unwilling to spurn conversation. The moment hung, Renner deciding to prod her companion for a response.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Apologies, Your Highness. I just needed to relay that to the twins.¡±

    What about that was remarkable? Haven¡¯t you seen a map of the crown lands before? Inane!

    ¡°Ah, truly? In any case, Lakyus, I¡¯ve been thinking-¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, can we move on to a practical subject? These spells are limited. We can speak idly when we see eachother next.¡±

    She¡¯s gaining confidence in our relationship. How wonderful. This can wait for later; all the more fitting, then.

    ¡°Eh? Circumventing me with my own words? I must cede then. You¡¯re speaking of the vampire in the east.¡±

    ¡°You stole the words from me.¡±

    ¡°What did you want to discuss about it?¡±

    ¡°Do you know much?¡±

    ¡°What Ainzach relayed. Are you going to travel to E-Rantel?¡±

    ¡°How could we, Your Highness?¡±

    She drew that out? Did she mean to call the idea frivolous, or perhaps¡­ Ah, my usage of this method is so fragile. No intonation, no pitch of the voice, no movement to watch for, nor can I rely on such things to lace my words with meaning; I am so utterly deprived of information. It¡¯s speaking with text alone. Language is not fit for such a task as this!

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t really ready for action.¡±

    Renner visibly sagged. This was a mistake, she correcting herself within an instant. This was too late, a maid behind her having already snapped into action.

    ¡°Your Highness, do you have a need?¡±

    ¡°Ah, some additional seasoning would be nice.¡±

    ¡°Preference?¡±

    ¡°That import from the theocracy¡­ oh what was it called? The ground seaweed mix.¡±

    ¡°Of course, your Highness.¡±

    The maid bowed, before retrieving a small glass shaker and sprinkling it over Renner¡¯s plate. She nodded appreciatively before returning to her meal and conversation.

    ¡°Ah. Lakyus, you must forgive me, for I am fearful on this matter.¡±

    ¡°You are? No, I understand. The reports seem intense.¡±

    ¡°We could be speaking of such a being as Landfall, that baleful monster of yore.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ yes, we could.¡±

    That response was staccato. Did I say something wrong again? With a letter I can at least curate my words after I¡¯ve written them. The possible meanings that delay could carry. This is worse than that conversation with Gazef. At least he was in front of me then.

    Frustration began to creep into the moment, an inward sense of failure building for Renner. She maintained her visage, though it was not without struggle.

    ¡°Did I say something offbeat?¡±

    ¡°No, no, it''s not that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many vampire kin you¡¯ve slain; is it a process?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t- er, it is, but this is a job others can handle.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Your uncle¡¯s band?¡±

    ¡°He can, but honestly-¡±

    ¡°Am I completely misreading the threat here?¡±

    ¡°It''s not that. Not the threat, but perhaps the immediacy.¡±

    ¡°Ah, all correct then.¡±

    ¡°No matter what it''s doing, it''s an ancient being. Only our Lords can speak to why it emerged, but I think it¡¯s unlikely to take an aggressive stance, Your Highness.¡±

    Your Lords? So no one. Ah, resentment is stirring in my heart.

    ¡°I¡¯ll trust you on this. Ah, yes, Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking-¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡±

    ¡°Quiet. But, actually, it''s exactly what you said. ¡®Your Highness.¡¯ You needn¡¯t address me as such.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Princess?¡±

    ¡°Princess Renner, or perhaps Renner if you¡¯re feeling brave.¡±

    ¡°Really? Renner?¡±

    ¡°And lo!¡±

    ¡°No- I-¡±

    ¡°Or Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°I am not calling you- Whatever¡­ Ah, we should hurry, the spell is going to expire soon.¡±

    Expiration this quick? It must be a rather weak device she¡¯s using. Perhaps a scroll, though I thought one needed to be trained in the magical arts to read them. A matter, but not one I¡¯m capable of resolving. At least I¡¯ve managed to salvage some advancement from this conversation. Hm, something tactical to end on.

    ¡°Shame. Pray tell, do you have vellum and ink on you?¡±

    ¡°Vellum and¡­ yeah I think we do. You want us to pen something?¡±

    ¡°Yes. When you passed through E-Telior, did you notice the road that went west out of town? There should be a standard-seeming farmhouse no more than a mile out, and it should have a tile-roofed shack in the back. It¡¯s an Eight Fingers waystation, like the one you yourself raided two months ago.¡±

    ¡°You want us to hit it?¡±

    ¡°Hm? No, nothing so garish. Anyway, there should be a mailbox of sorts there. I simply need you to write about¡­ oh lets say a dozen letters and drop it in.¡±

    ¡°A dozen?¡±

    ¡°Thereabouts, the contents truly don¡¯t matter. Write something to the effect of a salt shortage in that area, make up a gang name. It¡¯s the codes that matter.¡±

    ¡°The codes?¡±

    ¡°The numbers on the front. Fabricate a plausibly random code, and then iterate one digit after another. They should be no more than about eight digits long.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what do you mean by ''iterate''?¡±

    ¡°Ah; an example, for a code five-four-three-one-five-eight-two, you would do a letter with only the label five-four-three, then a second letter with five-four-three-one, then a third five-four-three-one-five, and so on. Start at three digits minimum, and then increase from there.¡±

    ¡°What- what is that going to do?¡±

    ¡°Trace their network. It''s as if we¡¯re releasing a buoy into a stream and finding where it floats to.¡±

    When, too. I thought earlier of placing one of their men in the palace, but if I can simply use Lakyus to splice into their courier service, such a posting would be utterly redundant.

    ¡°And what do we do with them?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Simply drop them into the box and leave. Preferably, I¡¯d do a dozen, but such a thing wouldn''t escape notice.¡±

    The odds of that are high anyway, but it''s not as if it will matter. They already know of our stalking. This will only fuel more paranoia. I ought to track how long that post-box still exists.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that lead to a bunch of incorrect addresses?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re routing numbers.¡±

    ¡°I- Oh that makes so much more sense. Alright¡­ Alright, I¡¯ll set them on it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lakyus.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your¡­ Renner.¡±

    Renner felt the link draw thin and snap, a little of the arcane noise caught in its length making it to her before the spell dissolved all together. The return to quiet was strange, for there was never any noise in the first place, and those she was immersed with were all still present.

    I must find some excuse to avoid this method of communication in the future, but any such possible feel laughably flimsy in the face of its convenience. Silent, unobservable - baring my inadequacy - instant, long-range; how could I possibly say no? Not even mentioning the plausible.

    She hung on her own words for a moment, taking a bite of her food and picking out the flavors in its profile. She sat opposite the wall of windows, caught in the baleful glare of a rising sun beaming betwixt the vertical slats of the window frame. It was higher than she liked, the forced affair of a ¡°family¡± breakfast driving the meal further into the dawn. Worse, she wasn¡¯t even in her preferred seat, having been driven by patrilineal hierarchy from the side of her father deeper into the room. Swallowing, she followed her bite of egg down with a swill of tea, before deciding to chide herself.

    No, I need to accustom myself to this. I will need to build an inner face, to act in thought. Yet, it¡¯s a dear wish of mine to resist. How base. Eh? Chardelon, are you a Vaiself thick and through? Ah, how befitting of a royal from Re-Estize to resist magical innovation. Jircniv was right, I am letting myself fail. How fair is his vision if he can spy clear through me from his throne in Arwintar?

    She flicked her eyes from sibling to sibling, first to a smiling Vena to her front, a poison-breathed Zanac her right, before finally setting on a languid Barbro on an inbetween bearing.

    I feel feyish. Why not a little mischief?

    ¡°Brother?¡±

    His right eye twitched. No response. Renner beamed.

    Despite your best efforts, you could not vanquish me. You will suffer for your choice in bondsman.

    ¡°Brother?¡±

    ¡°Barbro-dearest, Renner is trying to get your attention.¡±

    ¡°What?! Would you mind not pestering me?¡±

    ¡°Er, apologies, brother.¡±

    ¡°Chardelon, you needn¡¯t apologize. He¡¯s curt without cause to you.¡±

    Vena is energetic today. It''s almost nostalgic. Ah, to force Barbro¡¯s hand. I¡¯ll make him beg for every scrap. Scramble for me, brother-dearest.

    ¡°If you say. In any case, I thought you would be interested in something. I¡¯m thinking of fronting a payment to our friend in E-Rantel.¡±

    ¡°Your friend?¡±

    ¡°Rettenmaier; he¡¯s a friend of our house, no? That for him to pass off to Ainzach.¡±

    ¡°Alright, continue.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°What else? How daft- nevermind.¡±

    ¡°Um, I just wanted to invite you to join us.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°To pay him- er, a subsidy to hunt down the vampire.¡±

    ¡°How much.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking a standard together.¡±

    ¡°A standard?¡±

    Vena brightened for a moment.

    ¡°Oh, what a wonderful idea. I wish I could contribute to such a fund.¡±

    ¡°I thought so. A matter with your husband?¡±

    ¡°Indeed; it can be difficult to act as a princess, not as a wife.¡±

    ¡°Quite true, sister, though I¡¯m worried it''s scant.¡±

    Barbro seemed to shift his eyes nervously.

    ¡°Scant?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Are you in then?¡±

    ¡°For a standard of gold?¡±

    A standard of- Gods above, is he so strapped? I knew he threw money at the Black Night, but this? Ah, Zanac and I are going to shred him in front of father. Wake from your stupor and aid me brother.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°How much are you in for?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in for a half weight platinum.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°It''s not enough, I know.¡±

    ¡°Not enough? You would say that?¡±

    ¡°Er, apologies. I know it''s obvious.¡±

    ¡°No- I-¡±

    ¡°I can put up more, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°W-whatever. You can play at your charity.¡±

    Zanac still has yet to join, I may as well shove him in. Why is he so skittish? He¡¯s always willing to embarrass Barbro in front of our father.

    ¡°Alright, Zanac, you wish to put up more?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly, though I can.¡±

    ¡°Zanac? What does he- brother, are you in on this?¡±

    ¡°Eh? Whom do you think I was putting up the rest of the coin with?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, I am. Quite a surprise that she came upon such a scheme.¡±

    ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t frame it that way, Igana. Our dear Renner clearly has a sense about her.¡±

    ¡°It was a wonderful idea, darling.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, father.¡±

    Zanac muttered something inaudible, the general outline of his words subsumed beneath Vena¡¯s rebuke of the crown prince.

    ¡°Are you seriously not contributing, Barbro?¡±

    ¡°I-I will, I will, it¡¯s just a lot of money at all.¡±

    ¡°Half a standard? I suppose; though, haven''t you kept savings?¡±

    ¡°I have, but it feels foolish to part with that much solely for it to be spent on hunting a vampire.¡±

    A trap, Brother. Who springs it?

    After a moment, Zanac seemed to rouse confidence in his heart, his face tightening. He rose in his chair and interjected.

    ¡°That¡¯s a foolish question. The coin will simply roll-over into the defense fund.¡±

    Participation proper. Wonderful. To capitalize.

    ¡°Ainzach can use whatever he can get on the border. So, you agree to join us?¡±

    ¡°Well- I¡­ I suppose so.¡±

    Press. Make him squirm.

    ¡°Wonderful, I¡¯ll run down right after this and draft the transfer with the vault.¡±

    ¡°As will I.¡±

    Renner watched with delight as Barbro opened and snagged, no words emerging. He writhed in her gaze, using the most mirthful eyes she knew how to make. With time, his mouth closed, and the table returned to its meal. Renner idly observed those around. Vena and Barbro alike were visibly lost in thought; based on their visages, hers of a decidedly more pleasant tone. From the corner of her vision, Renner watched waves of tension pass through her fairer brother, the movements of his hands becoming jerkier as he sliced a sausage and brought it into his mouth. This, while uncommon, was not usual, her youngest brother becoming unreadable at the most curious times. Ramposa was outwardly satisfied by his children, choosing to break the silence.

    ¡°So, girls, how was your day yesterday?¡±

    ¡°Much fun!¡±

    ¡°Indeed, Chardelon and I made quite the romp ¡®round the city.¡±

    ¡°Did you now?¡±

    ¡°Yes! By the gods, you have no idea how much I thirst for the culture here. I¡¯m starting to think she was right about this whole remaining unmarried business.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? I have no idea? Why don¡¯t you elaborate in detail? I¡¯ll listen until the sky furls up and the world is returned to the chaos from which it was formed!¡±

    What¡¯s this, Zanac? He¡¯s reversed course since yesterday, though perhaps is hiding his true feelings. Openly belligerent to her, yet attentive behind her back. He possesses a sense of familial responsibility, yet does not let it show. A light rebuke.

    ¡°Igana, that¡¯s a cruel thing to say.¡±

    ¡°You wish to play at that? Fine, I thirst no more than the house lush does for drink.¡±

    Renner lightly giggled, Vena joining with a chuckle a few moments later. This banter was of a type Renner had often watched her two eldest sisters participate in, some unionity of purpose gripping and driving them to annoy their male siblings. She suddenly was stuck with a hole in her chest.

    I should not have created such an opportunity for Vena. All it does is remind me of Lulara, and nothing good can be found in that. I must rip myself away from such thoughts.

    Renner languished in painful memories, receding into herself. Vena took point.

    ¡°Speaking of such; Barbro, where is your cup?¡±

    ¡°Not here.¡±

    ¡°Need I bid a maid to fetch it for you?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Eh? No preference for sour wines?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not drinking.¡±

    ¡°Ah, in general?¡±

    ¡°I wonder why I didn¡¯t notice that the night of¡­ that night.¡±

    Conversation drifting to the night of the sixteenth is undesirable. I have no wish to field questions about my puppy. I ought to lock us to the periphery.

    ¡°The wisest decision. It''s embarrassing to say, but I barely remember the latter half of the evening.¡±

    ¡°An understatement, you were witless, headlong on a couch.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Was I?¡±

    ¡°To be frank, Chardelon, I wasn¡¯t much better. I had to apologize to my darling Inara.¡±

    ¡°And you call me the house lush!¡±

    ¡°It was a night of celebration-¡±

    ¡°No it wasn¡¯t, it was the opening day of a general council. You two have the excuse of being princesses, but what of you Igana?¡±

    Zanac leaned back in his chair, and stoutly circled his flask.

    ¡°...True, I was inebriated, but I am experienced at such. Can you say the same thing?

    ¡°Quite a thing to brag about.¡±

    ¡°Well, no, I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Chardelon, your dog had to drag you back to your room, or was that story just another fabrication of the maids too?¡±

    ¡°Did he?¡±

    Did he? Ah, he must have. How else could I have returned to my room in-time for my awakening¡­ and for a confession of love. Need I walk that back? No, I think I¡¯d rather die than retract those words. Climb will know.

    ¡°And she has the gall to forget!¡±

    ¡°I must apologize-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an embarrassment of a Vaiself.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree-¡±

    ¡°Zanac! Barbro! You are both Ryles and I will not have you speaking to your sister that way.¡±

    ¡°That dregg is my half-sister, a fact that I will never forget to cherish and revile.¡±

    Bid out a response from father.

    ¡°Sorry, brother. I um-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize dear, it is your brothers who owe you an apology. Now, Igana, hold your tongue!¡±

    ¡°Agreed. Need you be so cruel to her? You too Barbro.¡±

    ¡°Vena, I needn¡¯t hear that from you.¡±

    ¡°What does that even mean? You struck her after she came running into your arms crying, grateful to see you alive.¡±

    ¡°Always crying! She¡¯s always whining or lamenting or speaking of the plight of the peasants.¡±

    ¡°Such is the reason, brother-dearest, why she¡¯s the only one of us to earn her title.¡±

    ¡°One she earned through her own selfish actions!¡±

    ¡°For once, I agree with my older brother.¡±

    You do? Odd. ¡°Selfish¡± is correct, but how did you divine that?

    ¡°You¡¯re going to call the banning of slavery a selfish play on her part? Zanac, Barbro, pray tell, have you pair fallen to smoking decohering pipeweed?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it to be self-serving!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me a damn Laira addict! Vena, know your place.¡±

    ¡°I know my place. I am the eldest woman in this house, one who - by order of birth - must protect her sisters from the abuses of lesser men.¡±

    ¡°Vena, Barbro, stop squabbling! You two are my eldest and I will not have you bickering like children.¡±

    The pair ignored Ramposa, Vena pressing deeper.

    ¡°By what possible means could you call her self-serving? It''s a daft thing to speak.¡±

    ¡°Do not call your brother daft!¡±

    ¡°Exactly, it¡¯s our sister who is--¡±

    ¡°Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself, you are a Crown Prince-¡±

    ¡°And your eldest son. You don¡¯t wish me using such language. I know, I¡¯ve heard it before, but the face of the matter is undeniable. The least of us is the only one to earth a title. That such a daft-¡±

    ¡°Do not call your sister daft! I¡¯m speaking in circles.¡±

    ¡°Do none of you get it?!¡±

    Zanac slammed the table, causing the plates and utensils to clatter. Renner, startled, dropped her fork, jerking in place as a light yelp escaped her lips. Zanac twisted in his seat as she loosed an instinctive apology.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry-¡±

    ¡°You fucking monster!¡±

    The table went dead for a time, before Vena and Ramposa erupted alike.

    ¡°Brother!¡±

    ¡°Zanac!¡±

    This is dangerous. Interject, cut him off.

    ¡°She¡¯s fucking acting! Barbro is right, she fought for the banning of slavery for entirely selfish reasons. Not for some base vanity, but as a cold machination!¡±

    ¡°Brother-¡±

    ¡°This entire conversation, what has she done? Carefully steered us from subjects she¡¯s deemed uncomfortable. Steered us from the heart of the sixteenth, instead focusing on her own embarrassments as bait.¡±

    This is very dangerous. He¡¯s seen clean through me. I must-

    ¡°Everything she does is calculated¡­ is planned! She¡¯s barely human!¡±

    Renner¡¯s mind lurched.

    Barely human? What could he mean?

    ¡°Nothing about that night makes sense! An assassin closed the gap, nearly fatally wounded your¡­ your pet, and then didn¡¯t bother to end him? He just ran away? How does that make sense?!¡±

    How could he- Clear your head and shelve that question. Jink.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t awake for it!¡±

    ¡°Which makes everything that followed all the more confusing! How could Keveleos have found you and not a patrol of Royal Guard? How could you have known that he and Rochefort were safe? How could your toy have lost his fear-¡±

    He has questions, but not answers. Make him out to be mad. Jink again.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t speak such things about my Climb!¡±

    ¡°Your Climb?! That makes it all the more twisted, no? That you have that pauper boy tied up in all this. An innocent in all this!¡±

    You stumbled into the truth; Climb is an innocent. These political maneuvers are so beyond him. He needn¡¯t care nor worry about such things, only honing his craft and his form. For him to discharge his strength in my service is not twisted, it¡¯s as it should be.

    ¡°He saved my life!¡±

    ¡°Right he did. Zanac! I will hear no more of this!¡±

    ¡°Gods dammit father, she¡¯s an abomination in the flesh of a girl! The day she stops pretending to be human-¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you see?! The ways she lags behind others, or creates chaos in the wake of events? It¡¯s all an act!¡±

    Exasperated tones began to enter Zanac¡¯s voice, swinging his flask wider with every word. Ramposa¡¯s lips quivered with rage, Vena and Barbro locked in stunned silence. Renner¡¯s eyes were wet, sheepishly looking at the table.

    ¡°She¡¯s an actress, the best I¡¯ve seen! Do you think she was scared that night, brother?¡±

    ¡°Igana, what could that possibly lead you to that conclusion?!¡±

    ¡°Why was Alec afraid of you that night?¡±

    Don¡¯t panic. He can¡¯t know.

    ¡°Lord Keveleos?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to be aloof! Those words, the fear in his eyes. What in damnation did you mean?¡±

    Fear in his eyes? Is- No, he¡¯s speaking of the time after, in the strategic forum. Jink a third time.

    ¡°Oh, what was it we were discussing? The¡­ horse riding exercise?¡±

    ¡°What in the good name of the Gods did you mean by ¡®all else except escape?¡¯¡±

    He- he found that? He can¡¯t know. It''s not possible. Aim wide and false.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Why in the- why would you-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand-¡±

    ¡°Yes you do! I have never seen a man so afraid of a girl. Why? What in those  You- you pit-spawn.¡±

    The sight was novel for me too, brother. Hunger is a normal thing, no?

    ¡°It was just some plans I had made pertaining to-¡±

    ¡°Horse riding?! You fucking liar! You deceiver! How could you even suggest such a thing with a straight face.¡±

    ¡°Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself!¡±

    ¡°Hold your tongue, brother!¡±

    Those two perceive this as an insane outburst. Play straight, play forgiving.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to scare you, Igana.¡±

    ¡°I never want to hear that name slip from your lips again! You are not my fucking sister! I hate you!¡±

    The room went silent and still. The only sound was the low overlap of labored breathing from all present - including the attendant maids - the choked mewls of a sobbing Renner, and the steady beat of a furious Ramposa quaking in place. Renner sat shaking for a time, beads rolling down her face as the moment drew.

    Pit-Spawn. Abomination. Barely human. Monster. Monster? That implies a warning, but what could my existence warn against? Do I bear hazards of¡­ what? What moral can be drawn from me? For all my plotting, I am simply a princess. I am simply Renner. It¡¯s absurd. Agh, this isn¡¯t something that will bid a quick resolution.

    ¡°Leave us.¡±

    The maids bolted out of the room, throwing open the door and skitting into the hall at Ramposa¡¯s words. This was undoubtedly to become a new point of gossip for the Kingdom, but Renner was unable to redirect her mind to its consequences.

    Once again, hate. All I know is hate. What vile things font from your mouth, Zanac. All I desire is my Climb and a safe life for us both. For that I am a monster? For my hunger? It is my existence, and yet you would cast me out for it. Why? Damn you, brother-dearest. I want so deeply to grab and shake the answer from you - alas this is not the place, nor will it ever be. You wish I was not your sister? You will eat those words. I will force an alliance into your hands and you will accept it.

    The last of the maids left the room, pulling the door back as she exited. Oddly, it did not close; rather, being caught from the outside. An unawares footman pulled it open and entered, completely oblivious to the events a minute prior. He spotted Ramposa and bowed.

    ¡°Speak.¡±

    ¡°Sire, a runner has just arrived from E-Rantel. There¡¯s been a crisis.¡±

    ¡°Of what kind?¡±

    ¡°Thousands of the dead have risen.¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (7)

    [40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 21]

    Her eyes were filled with worry. The sight was depressingly common.

    ¡°A vampire, and now this mass of the dead.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unimaginable.¡±

    ¡°It is, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus and her band are out of position, and I haven¡¯t kept tabs on the position of Red Drop. We could likely muster a relief force in a few hundred immediately.¡±

    Why does she have to worry about these things?

    ¡°I¡¯m sure some are already fighting, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Local teams. Local militias too, but I worry about the people without arms.¡±

    She¡¯s scared. I should say something to reassure her.

    ¡°Farmers and their tools can fight. Those would damage the undead.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Isn¡¯t that kind of ghoulish?¡±

    ¡°Er, yeah I guess.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it fits. Some of their implements are certainly¡­ sharp enough to¡­ damage undead forms.¡±

    Renner darted her eyes away. They danced for a time, she turning them down to her hands. Those were themselves locked in furtive rubbing. She and Climb were in one of the reception spaces, this one on the border between the personal quarters of the royal family and the rest of the third story. There were no others besides a triplet of maids on the opposite side and a knight Climb recognized as part of the Royal Guard. When he assumed morning duty, he would often wait here while Renner had breakfast with her father, returning to her side only when summoned or personally retrieved by her for whatever activities caught her fancy in the eve of noon. This had not happened today, and when she drifted back into his presence, he found she was distraught and altogether in pain. She simply plopped onto the loveseat where she was now, Climb standing awkwardly by her side.

    ¡°I suppose the levy do bring their tools to battle when their lords can¡¯t furnish them spears, pitchforks and such. Chardelon, shush yourself. You¡¯re speaking of such vile things. If this¡­ this legion of corpses rose last night, they could be as far as E-Nerena. Possibly all the way to the Barony of Toussaint, worse, Montserrat. If they¡¯re that far, then the count of villages they have swept should be¡­¡±

    Renner trailed off, gently tapping the fingers of her left hand against the back of her other in some rhythm Climb knew not of.

    ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t have the estimates of effectiveness. When it comes to the levy and those Baruthian knights, the matter is simple. But of the dead? I haven¡¯t a clue. What is a¡­ walking-one capable of? Of what they were in life? What of those who have already given parts of their body to He of the Petrichor?¡±

    Like, zombies that have rotted away?

    ¡°I imagine it depends on the type of the undead, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°They have kins? No, that would make sense. Vampires are a type of those negative creatures - certainly they have a clade all to their own. Ah, I¡¯m in mind to use unsavory words. I wish I had wrenched more from Lakyus when I had the chance. If only that footman had made it five minutes prior.¡±

    What is she talking about? What would it matter if he had arrived sooner?

    ¡°Five minutes earlier?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh. I don¡¯t like to speak of it, for it feels like a shameful thing to so spurn the rest of my family, but Lakyus and I entered into magical communication. Some divination or what have you. Whatever the method, she and I spoke for a time of light things and otherwise; I bid her some tasks and so forth.¡±

    She sounds so uncertain. She must be deeply affected. Wait, family? Wasn¡¯t it just her father and her?

    ¡°How is she?¡±

    ¡°Bored in that way only fiery souls can be. I¡¯m sure she¡¯d rather be off slaying something. Anything better than lugging her companions¡¯ gear from there to here.¡±

    Is she¡­ angry?

    Renner¡¯s voice had a biting tone to it, one Climb had not before heard. He leaned back slightly, trying his best to understand what she meant.

    I can¡¯t think of a time she¡¯s been angry. Annoyed, but not this. What should I do? It¡¯s not something I did, is it? I don¡¯t know what''s wrong. Should I, uh, ask her?

    ¡°Your Highness. Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast¡­ wasn¡¯t pleasant.¡±

    ¡°Was something wrong with it?¡±

    ¡°Nothing like that. Anise did a good job as always.¡±

    Renner turned away, her eyes welling. Climb watched as the hints of anger on her face dissolved, only sorrow remaining. She spoke again, her first words cut off by a hic.

    ¡°-Was yelled at.¡±

    That''s horrible! Who could have done that?

    ¡°By- by his Majesty?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ brother.¡±

    That¡¯s why she said family earlier. Her brother was there? I guess that¡¯s okay¡­ unless it was him.

    ¡°Which of them?¡±

    ¡°Both were in attendance.¡±

    Climb lurched.

    ¡°He was there?!¡±

    ¡°He was.¡±

    Why was he there?! Why- Gods I should have been there! I should have been there! He was there with her?! Gods above, I never- I never want that to happen again.

    ¡°Why- why would-¡±

    ¡°Vena doesn¡¯t come here often. Father wanted all of us together. He doesn¡¯t know.¡±

    It makes sense. It¡¯s just¡­ agh! It pisses me off. He¡¯s a godsdamned traitor!

    ¡°Then- why can¡¯t- why can¡¯t you tell him?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re threading a needle¡­ we¡¯re threading a needle. Things are unstable. If father knows, everything will drag back. Bolloupe, Lytton, and all the rest.¡±

    Renner closed her eyes and shook her head, repeating herself under her breath. After a time, she opened them, staring off into the distance blankly.

    ¡°I¡¯m scared, Climb. I¡¯m so scared.¡±

    She sacrificed again and again. That she has to do that. That she has to worry about the safety of the Kingdom. Worry about Lakyus. Worry about undead. Worry about Eight Fingers. Worry about political problems. She¡¯s a princess! I hate it. I wish she didn¡¯t have to, I wish she could simply live her life. Be able to shop with Vena. Socialize and enjoy the day. Even¡­ things like placing a flower in my hair. She should have that.

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    If I could give that to her, I would. I don¡¯t care what it would take.

    ¡°He was angry at me.¡±

    ¡°Barbro?!¡±

    How dare he?! What gives him the right?! Gods, if he gets close to her again-

    ¡°No, Igana- er, Zanac.¡±

    Why not use his first name? Did he say something truly evil?

    ¡°His Highness¡­ the Second Prince? Did something happen, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°He asked me not to use it¡­ Actually, that¡¯s a bit of a fib.¡±

    Renner¡¯s lip began to quiver.

    ¡°He called me a monster.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°An abomination. A d?mon¡­ I think. It went too fast for me to catch.¡±

    A demon?! How could he say something like that?

    ¡°He shouted at me, told me I wasn¡¯t his sister. That he hates me.¡±

    What a cruel thing to say!

    ¡°My own brothers hate me. They both hate me. I¡¯ve done something horrid, haven¡¯t I? Something to bid it from them. Something to deserve it.¡±

    What? Princess¡­

    Everything clicked. Climb realized the hate in Renner¡¯s eyes earlier was not for others, but for herself.

    ¡°Gods no!¡±

    ¡°I must have, it''s the only thing that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°What could he have been mad at you for?¡±

    ¡°He mentioned something-¡±

    ¡°What was it, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Speaking with Lord Keveleos. He said it¡­ that¡­ that I scared him.¡±

    That doesn¡¯t even make sense! She and Alec spoke just fine to each other, he wasn¡¯t- he wasn¡¯t scared. Gods, she¡¯s torn up, isn''t she? I need to say something.

    ¡°Your Highness, you made perfectly good conversation with him. The- the second prince is simply being cruel!¡±

    ¡°But I- I don''t know. Did I?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not! He appreciated you speaking with him!¡±

    It''s the only thing that makes sense. She was being brave, trying to keep things normal that night after- after that bastard attacked her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Climb. All this is so overwhelming.¡±

    Climb dropped to his knees. Renner shot her gaze to him, her eyes seeming to glimmer for an instant. Climb¡¯s heart welled with pride.

    ¡°I know it is, Your Highness. I know. You aren¡¯t a monster, your Highness. I can¡¯t even imagine how your brother could say that. You¡¯re the opposite of a monster. You¡¯re a treasure of Re-Estize- no, the treasure; the most important of them. The light of the Kingdom. You¡¯re wonderful and beautiful. You¡¯re precious. Please believe me, Your Highness. I promise.¡±

    I love you.

    ¡°I just- I just wish they were nicer to me.¡±

    ¡°They should be.¡±

    ¡°I- I don¡¯t know what to do, Climb. All of this is so overwhelming. How do I go about mending this? How do I be a good sister-¡±

    You already are a good sister to them! You¡¯re- you¡¯re perfect.

    ¡°-how do I¡­ do I¡­ No. This won¡¯t help, will it?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    It was thus that an altogether horrifying sight unfurled before Climb¡¯s eyes. Renner gulped down air after a cry, then lightly clapped her tear-stained cheeks. Hands on her face, she swept her fingers ¡®round her eyes, brushing away the moisture that had built there. She closed her eyes, then swallowed. Then, all at once, she stilled herself and held her breath. She opened her eyes six seconds later and peered into him. An apologetic smile grew across her face. Were it not for the swelling of her visage, and the way she choked her next words, Climb would have no sense at all of the pain she kept within.

    ¡°There, better.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°I think my brother was right-¡±

    What?!

    ¡°-My lamentations are useless. No point in them.¡±

    No, they aren¡¯t! Renner, please!

    ¡°Your Highness, please forgive my presumption in saying this-¡±

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say, Climb. That I can always cry in front of you, no?¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Climb¡¯s words caught in his throat, his mind seizing. He could find no way to express his inner turmoil. Renner continued.

    ¡°I know, Climb. I know. This is¡­ different. Rather, I¡¯m different; or, perhaps, I see my place differently. It¡¯s something that¡¯s brewed inside me for the last two months, yet has only come to a head in the last few days. I think I now truly understand my father¡¯s hesitation.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Barbro is unfit to rule.¡±

    Unfit? That man should be hanged.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it''s an obvious thing to say.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t¡­ sorry.¡±

    No, it is obvious. Though, I wish you wouldn¡¯t insult yourself.

    ¡°It¡¯s no matter, Climb. It''s strange to me that my brother has left his fields fallow. He destroys himself again and again. He sent his only man to run me through on a night of crisis - one of his own making. All for what? Haste, pride, and envy of the father? Intemperance like that is not the one common to menfolk, he¡¯s gripped by a true madness. One day, I suppose the whole of the Kingdom will be under his aegis - a Mad King Andrean. Jircniv will find his chance then, and in two years - or perhaps three if he assaults slowly. It would be the end of my house.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, don¡¯t speak such- such dark things!¡±

    ¡°Eh? Sorry. I apologize, Climb.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    Renner made a halting motion with her hand, Climb¡¯s imposition that she needn¡¯t apologize dying on his tongue. She paused for a moment, visibly gathering her words.

    ¡°It''s hard for me not to think about. I always knew our Kingdom was subject to rot, its pillars long since eaten out by scorched Laira and the bondage of our fellow men, but this? To think my brother had fallen so low as to collaborate with the Noble Faction. To think they would have the ability to slip through the walls of Ro-Lante. Those wallwalking assailants seem to have shattered everything. Even leaving my room I cannot ¡®scape the violence, every time I pass that baleful spot.¡±

    That¡¯s horrible. Should I say something? I have to, right?

    ¡°It has me thinking of grander things. The impositions upon us by the divine. Beginnings and ends - what does it mean to die and so forth - but I simply can¡¯t stop thinking of the perpetual. Bonds, oaths, but above all, duty.¡±

    ¡°What about it, Your Highness?¡±

    What could I say? I would need to make her feel safe. How do I do that?

    ¡°I have a duty to the people. The people, and my house. On each day I choose what to do, be it advocating for those of the lowest station, or simply serving as a daughter of the crown. Some days, those duties align and I can be loyal to both. Some days. Being my father¡¯s daughter and the daughter of the king don¡¯t wholly mesh. Being my brothers¡¯ sister, and being the sister of the princes.¡°

    Father¡¯s daughter and¡­ what? What does that mean? Aren¡¯t you the third princess?

    ¡°...Ah.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand what I mean, do you?¡±

    ¡°I apologize, your-¡±

    ¡°You needn¡¯t- yes, I accept it. Ah, how do I say this? Climb, are you the Assistant Guard to the Golden Princess, or are you Climb?¡±

    Am I- I¡¯m both, right? Assistant Guard and me, at the same time. I think. Then what does she mean? ¡°Or.¡± Shouldn¡¯t it be and? I am both the assistant guard and I am Climb, right? Isn¡¯t that saying the same thing Oh Gods, I don¡¯t understand this at all. Um¡­ blazes! Oh what do I say? Maybe just pretend and figure it out later.

    ¡°...I see. That makes sense.¡±

    ¡°All correct, then?¡±

    I don¡¯t think she noticed. Gods, this is kind of shameful. I don¡¯t want to lie to her. Do I confess? I- I don''t know.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness¡­ I think.¡±

    Dammit! I don¡¯t want to cause her any more trouble, but I have no clue what she means.

    She paused, slightly cocking her head as a hint of a smile grew on her face. Climb sank slightly.

    She did notice. Shit- I should apologize. Gods, Climb, why are you such a fool? I hope she¡¯s not mad, or disappointed, that would- wait, she¡¯s smiling. Is she not angry? Wait, if I made her smile with it, is it a good thing? Wait, what? Agh, I should just shut up and listen.

    ¡°My brothers have these duties too, but they bear it in a separate way; they will never need to choose as I do. I will one day wed, and with that bond comes a splitting of responsibility - between House Vaiself and my husband¡¯s house. I will become threefold, and in that I may lose myself; what I owe to the peasants and the proletarian. Vena stands as an example here, unable to furnish a gift to E-Rantel¡¯s adventuring guild by the very basis of her marriage. Shackled, in a sense.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t want to get married, does she?

    A forlorn tinge entered Renner¡¯s eye, and she paused. Climb could find no words, so the pair waited in silence for a time. After a few minutes of quiet, the cluster of maids left in tandem. Renner finally found her words, and resumed.

    ¡°Once again, those things are at odds for me; duties to the royal family, and those simply to my family. My brothers hate me, and yet I have a duty to them - and they to me. Barbro will not fulfill his - those actions he took have proven him foul and black, and show him incapable of a return to valiant existence - but Zanac? He will. Even if he hates me and wishes we weren¡¯t consanguin, he will fulfill his obligations. I have failed as a sister to him and to Barbro, but I will not fail in my duties as princess. I will not fail in my duties to the people. I must not fail. This is part of that. Zanac must take the throne. I must help him in every way I can.¡±

    ¡°But he- he called you a monster!¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°He should not be allowed to say such things!¡±

    ¡°Climb, what you speak is dangerous.¡±

    ¡°A-apologies, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to get in trouble. A maid catching wind of that, I shudder to think.¡±

    I¡¯m doing horribly. I just made things worse.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to hand something to Zanac. Something spectacular. Something that will not draw Barbro¡¯s ire. Climb, may I ask something of you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Take great care around my brothers. You mustn''t question them, you mustn¡¯t deprive them of any respect or honors they hold. Bow, use their forms of address whenever you would for me. You must treat them exactly as you would before- or, at least, as close to that as you can. This is of prime importance. You must understand, Climb. You cannot show disrespect; you cannot show them your anger.¡±

    I- I hate that. I hate that. I hate having to do that. I know it''s needed, but it hurts. Zanac, I could. But him?

    ¡°Please be careful, Climb. Please, for the sake of all under the aegis of the Gods, be careful. Guard your words. If you were to suffer as a result of something like that, I¡­ I could not bear it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Climb.¡±

    It¡¯s unfair! It¡¯s- it¡¯s unjust and wrong.

    Climb felt utterly disorganized. Watching his mistress lament, disparage, and suppress herself, only for her to beg that he hide alongside her for his safety. It was too much to bear, and Climb could not hold himself back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand it, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner paused, visibly contemplating for a second. After it passed, she reached out and gently worked her hand into his. She tugged with little force, Climb realizing that she intended to draw him up. He stood, and leading him round, Renner guided him into the other seat on the couch. He set himself down slowly, his mind snagging on the implications of sitting next to her. Normally, he would have protested such acts, but he had no energy which to do so.

    She¡¯ll just order me if I refuse.

    ¡°Why I must hide?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I- It¡¯s unfair.¡±

    ¡°My life is not my own.¡±

    Her life isn¡¯t hers? I don¡¯t get it. Shit. This isn¡¯t the time to not understand. Is she saying she can¡¯t make her own choices? I guess that makes sense. Actually, I don¡¯t really make many of my own either. It''s not like I choose my duties for the day¡­ though I do try and push for extra with her. I should say something to make her feel better. Uh¡­

    ¡°Your highness, if that¡¯s how things will be, then mine will always be yours.¡±

    Her left eye twitched, pulling in a breath sharply. Climb blushed, and looked away.

    Gods! Did you really have to say it like that?

    The pair sat without speaking, Climb steadily growing more comfortable as the time passed. Their hands were still interlocked, Renner squeezing every so often. After two minutes, the stillness of the room broke. A footman entered the room, one Climb recognized as one of the palace runners, Deidrick. He spun in place, and upon eyeing Climb and Renner, approached. Climb briefly considered standing, but Renner held his hand tighter, seemingly in the negative. Deidrick stopped short by a pace and bowed.

    ¡°Your Highness, His Majesty has sent for you. That said, I have news for you now.¡±

    ¡°From the east?¡±

    ¡°Yes, a message from the Guild Master Ainzach. E-Rantel has been purged of the risen dead.¡±

    What? T-that''s amazing!

    ¡°Eh?! All of the many thousands?¡±

    ¡°Almost all of them, Your Highness. The last few have already been rounded up and destroyed.¡±

    ¡°But, this message was so soon after. Was the first badly delayed, or-¡±

    ¡°No, Your Highness. It was the act of the city¡¯s Adventurer¡¯s Guild, but primarily by a new team.¡±

    ¡°A new team? Who?¡±

    ¡°The name is Darkness, a warrior and sorceress. The pair swept through to the core of the undead, vanquished a hulk made of bones, two skeleton dragons, and then found and slew a cult of necromancers.¡±

    That¡¯s awesome! Two dragons?! He said skeleton, so they must have been undead. Zombie dragons- er, or maybe they were liches. Dragon liches? Do those exist? Scary. Gods, and they just slew them all! Thousands cut down, smashed to bits. A hulk of bones, skeletons, zombies, maybe geists? A-and even a bunch of evil wizards. That¡¯s so awesome!

    ¡°Z-Zurrernorn?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s believed so, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, where is my father?¡±

    ¡°In the strategic chambers, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°I will be attending shortly.¡±

    Deidrick genuflected again, turned, and exited. Climb felt Renner shake.

    ¡°I was so worried. I-I was so worried. Thank all that is good in the world.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I was so deeply afraid. The consequences of such a horde left unreaped. The death that could render.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°Renner.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You needn¡¯t address me like that, Climb. The messenger called me ¡®Your Highness,¡¯ you needn¡¯t do the same. My name will suffice.¡±

    ¡°Y-your name?¡±

    ¡°It''s too important a time to drag with forms of address. I asked Lakyus to call me by my name. I want you to, too.¡±

    ¡°You want me-¡±

    ¡°Yes. Renner, or perhaps Princess Renner if you feel uncomfortable with that. Madame Renner. Mistress Renner? Any would work for me. I just wish to see your lips form something other than those distant words.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, I don¡¯t know if I can-¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    Climb¡¯s mind locked up, desperately trying to determine which option was better. He decided that it was better to diminish her on her request than to deny her and subsequently disappoint.

    ¡°Yes, Prin-¡±

    She wants me to say her name, doesn¡¯t she?

    ¡°...Renner.¡±

    Her visage lit instantly, a wave of forlorn joy overcoming her face. Renner¡¯s eyes began to well once again, and she, for all her professions of dignity, simpered.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ thank you.¡±

    She¡¯s holding herself back, isn¡¯t she?

    ¡°Princess, you don¡¯t need to hold yourself in.¡±

    She was silent for a time, blinking her eyes several times before resuming.

    ¡°I suppose not¡­ Just this once, then.¡±

    Renner let her composure slip, burying her head in Climb¡¯s breast and weeping.

    ¡ª

    I love him. I love him so deeply.

    Renner basked in Climb¡¯s attention. It was her favorite thing in the world.

    Ah, if only I could do this more often! To jade him would be a nightmarish affair. Torture and suffering that I must keep moments like this rare. Still, I truly need this.

    The last half-hour had sent her completely adrift. Zanac¡¯s words had on their face been difficult to swallow, but the sudden news of an undead crisis sent her on a spiral. After a stout minute of inner panic, Renner realized that she needed her Climb. She went to him immediately and talked in circles about the undead before she felt fit to actually reach her goal.

    I don¡¯t see why my brother finds cause to be so cruel. A monster. A monster!

    It had been simple to draw out emotions from Climb. A steady breakdown followed by a self-chide, then speaking some hollow words about some concept he idolized, followed by a more thorough collapse. That she was in genuine emotional distress - at least to a degree - helped her conduct a convincing performance despite her imbalance. All of this had been lathered in a thick layer of self-loathing, something she had hoped would successfully wrench protective instincts from him. Everything had occurred exactly to plan, and now Renner was left with the love of her life comforting her as she bawled.

    What strange words. I haven¡¯t a clue how to respond to that. What have I done to create such animosity? Merely existing in his presence? Halt yourself, Chardelon, before you get dragged too deeper in. This Darkness team, what of them? I-I¡­ curse the lot, I¡¯m not of a mind for that now. I¡¯ll deal with that whole mess after. Back to my brother. Am I a monster? What of it? What would such a thing mean?

    Zanac was wholly readable at that moment. Renner had no doubt he shouted what he perceived to be the truth, but trying to process those words was another task entirely.

    Perhaps what he spoke wasn¡¯t meaningless. Material meanings of such phrases? Being a monster would make me a separate kin¡­ and have I not considered exactly such a thing before? But such a term demands moral evaluation, demands fear in children, demands slaying by adventurers. To be reductive, am I not a princess? It''s unimaginable, isn¡¯t it? He would count beasts and d?mons and fel-things lurking o¡¯er the edges of the world¡­ and a princess. It makes no sense. It would be comical if it were not for his condition.

    Renner felt the shape of the contradiction in front of her, and though she wanted to dismiss it as delusion on her brother¡¯s part, doubts still lingered. Once again, she thought of Keveleos. The look on his face. The sign he made. Renner resolved herself to try again.

    Force yourself, Chardelon. To not evaluate the self is foolish. He too was afraid. What similarities lie between him and my brother?

    Renner was struck by an undeniable revelation.

    Intelligence. They both possess it, more-so that the others I¡¯ve known. Zanac, for all his flaws, is the second best of the Ryles. Keveleos is deeply entangled in his own games and performances. This, then, begs worse questions. There is something present in me that is not present in my kin. The witless are blind to it, but the half-wits aren¡¯t. Is it delusion, or something closer to the truth? They find me anathematic, but what do I make of myself?

    I have met others alike to others - knights to knights, maids to maids, drunks to drunks - but none alike to me. Why? Did I not have sisters? Vena was further before me, but Lulara? We shared a mother, an upbringing. We were only two years apart. Why are we so different? Why am I an aberration? That¡¯s what I am, right? Utterly foriegn. The looks I was given as a child, the faces. My words were strange to them, and though I know now, back then it was so hard to understand. Why couldn¡¯t they see what I saw?

    Even now, I still don¡¯t fully understand it. Do their minds work more sluggishly than mine? Are their computations more prone to error? Works more liable to jam? No, that¡¯s not it, not the soul cause at least. Perhaps all of those things are true - indeed, they are - but these are not simply matters of speed and scale. I eye things differently; draw things forth from the ?ther differently; delineate the relevant and construct relations differently; formulate plans and plots and any other number of actions differently; perceive acts as worthy or unworthy differently.

    An example. Who else knows of Raeven¡¯s status? His family? Wife, perhaps. Certainly not any of the three out of six the Royal Faction holds. Does Zanac? What if he doesn¡¯t? What would that say of him, that he would be blind to the ally in front of him? Gods above, I am different, aren¡¯t I?

    No one will see things as I do. No one will know my words and believe them. Zanac is right, isn¡¯t he? I am a monster¡­ or something that lurks in between all the words he spoke. Something cautionary, something disjointed, something he does not understand. I am not kin to him. I am not kin to my family. To my blood. To my people. To my¡­ to my very species. Damnit all. I would have screamed at myself that this is delusion, a warning of the mind¡¯s impending collapse, but this is different. This is undeniable.

    What does that mean? I thought those words back then, the day of the sixteenth in that drab meeting of nobles. The question of ¡°my kind.¡± Am I to be surrounded by those of this caliber forever? I compared them to animals, for in my eyes they are, but that¡¯s wrong, isn¡¯t it? They are not insects, rats, and pigs, but humans. I am the outlier. I am the interloper. Somehow, whatever I am, I crept into the Vaiself bloodline and slipped from my mother¡¯s womb to join mankind.

    Ah, not forever. Mankind, as it has existed before me, will exist after. Only my surroundings will stand eternal - I will only stand until my body perishes and rots. ¡®Till worms root round the sockets of my eyes, eating the flesh that once, for one mote in time, saw the world as it was. I''m going to be alone for the rest of my days aren''t I? Crushing. It''s a revelation I¡¯ve played with before, but like this? This is not absentminded frustration towards those around me, it is fatalism.

    Him. Gods, what of him? He is precious. He is perfect. Fallow ground for me to sow and watch. He¡¯s loyal. Loyaler than anyone else I¡¯ve met. Those eyes of his, those perfect eyes. The way they light when turned upon me. What mirth that brings. What of my otherness to him? Perhaps he would not care. We are already such different things on our faces. The breach between the sexes; that I have five names, and he one; that he hath slain, and I have not. I am safe with him. He saved me from my brother¡¯s assassin. He saved me. Those very words! How wonderful it is to say them.

    I must wrench him from the world. How do I take him? I need those eyes upon me forever, that fresh azure of noon. I wish to fetter him. To drag him to a secret place and keep him there. How? Wrought iron. The thought of bonds on him captures me - collars, bracelets, and anklets. How I would love to see the sight. How I would love to see him on his hands and knees, not donned in armor like he is now, but disrobed entirely. How desperate I am. How hungry I am. I will take him, rip him from the world and into the depths below.

    He is human. I accept that - I find no cause to desire him otherwise. I must lead him. Own and guide him as does a shepard their sheepdog. My darling puppy.

    Fine, brother-dearest. I cede the point. I am not a human soul.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (8)

    [41th Year of Foresai, Middle Fire Month, Day 1]

    Four decades now. Four decades.

    Ramposa looked out across the procession, silently counting those in attendance. Once he confirmed the presence of Boullope, Lytton, and Raeven, he lost interest in tallying the rest. Age had taken its toll on his physical endurance, and worse, his patience.

    What is there to say, Iliadan? What has been the sum of your rule?

    He struggled to bring anything to mind. He resisted the urge to laugh, then resisted the urge to sigh. This was the fortieth anniversary of his coronation. This ought to have called for a much grander ceremony, round numbers demanding extra reverence, but the whole of the high nobility had wordlessly agreed that none had the vigor for such an affair. The sum total of the Carne Incident, an early General Council, the Black Night, and the parallel Vampiric Crisis and Exhumation of E-Rantel had left most every house in Re-Estize exhausted - something which combined became known as the Long Summer. Thus, the anniversary was conducted with little fanfare; less a celebration of his rule than a reflexive acknowledgement. In a way, Ramposa was grateful for this, not having the patience for the jubilees of decades past. He simply sat upon his throne and gazed upon the attendees in the hall.

    I should have wed with her earlier. My darling Theiere, how I miss you. What would you think of today? Had we tied the bond immediately, and then bore a son soon after, I could have avoided half the mess this house is in; my sons in their thirties, fires tempered and heads cooled. Chance I could have ceded the throne by now, then had Zanac run off to found a line of dukes. Had I done that, the seeds of stability I have yet to plant could have been a sapling by now. I suppose I would be more alone for it, my sons away on their conquests, my daughters already having been married in total. Even the scant time I get with them I appreciate. I loved those breakfasts with Renner¡­ when they were ongoing.

    Ever since the morning of the twenty-first, Renner had not made a showing at any of their private breakfasts. That, for she barely seemed to be leaving her quarters at all. She had taken meal after meal in her drawing room, only leaving to return a single book to the palace library and pick flowers once. After five days of her isolating herself, Ramposa had requested her attendance at supper. She had dutifully shown then, she being polite and respectful as always, but it was clear she had no desire to be there. He hadn¡¯t bothered summoning her since.

    I hate to see her withdraw into herself, but it''s understandable. Everything she saw that night; everything that happened after. Her brothers¡¯ actions towards her. I still cannot believe Barbro struck her, or Zanac¡¯s words for that matter. That she was covered in vitality, even if it was her bodyguard¡¯s. I¡¯m a failure of a father, aren¡¯t I? It¡¯s not as if she retreated into herself on that baleful day after. There¡¯s been a string of events that drove her back; dozens of mistakes on my part.

    Ramposa began a far worse tally than he did earlier, trying his best to pull together a more complete picture of his daughter¡¯s agony. His failure to protect her one he consistently hung on, her dress having been stained in blood spilled in violent combat. It was an indictment of him and his rule. That she was sitting three seats away from him, composed as ever, spoke to her resilience.

    She did her best, even if she fell asleep on the palace lawn. Maids-talk has it that there was a spat between her and that Aindra after she woke, I can only hope that¡¯s not true. That breakfast, I know readiness for marriage was something I wanted her to prepare for, but it hurt to see her disparage herself over it. That, and then that other breakfast with her siblings. I don¡¯t understand why Zanac lashed her with his tongue. I¡¯ve never been so irate at him. And after she put together an act of charity which if he had played right, and I hate to say this, would have been to his gain. I don¡¯t understand why Barbro was being so miserly. Oughtn¡¯t he know the crown¡¯s coffers are always opening?

    The song the minstrels were performing reached its end, a musical tradition to mark another year of reign. As the low hum of its strings drew off, the crowd moved to applaud, an empty clap filling the chambers.

    At least she¡¯s safe. Who knows what good the walls will do after this, but blade is what kept her protected. I wish I could give that boy proper thanks, bestow him a sword or something. Shame such an act is impossible, it would be a crisis by itself. In any case, it seems like she was already ahead of me for that; getting him a room and that suit of armor. How much did she spend on that? I know she said it was a gift from that younger Aindra¡­ Lakyus, that¡¯s it - but it can¡¯t have been. How deep to adventurer¡¯s pockets go? Hm¡­If she could hear me call my fatherhood inadequate, she would reassure me to the contrary. I hope she exits her room soon.

    Ramposa snapped his mind back to the present. He found nothing of note, the ceremony was continuing as before. Anniversaries did not demand anything from their celebrated regents, only to sit and receive honors. The court crier stood, and walked to the centerline of the procession. He reached it, turned, and began to recite his speech.

    ¡°It is the joy of the Kingdom of Re-Estize to proclaim that His Majesty, King Ramposa the Third, Defender of the Kingdom of Re-Estize has reigned for another year!¡±

    It¡¯s no small wonder how much she lives up to her namesake. Her compassion. Her kindness. Her usefulness. Look at all that she¡¯s done. That push to ban slavery, that was hers. She even went to the House of Lords. Not that her reaching out to that bombastic organization didn¡¯t cause me trouble, but she at least bothered to do it.

    ¡°Once again, this midsommar carries with it the glory of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, the glory of its attentive and loyal subjects, the glory of House Vaiself, and the glory of the Era of Foresai.¡±

    What of my sons? The only trouble they get into is with women and drink. Barbro plays at the border, but to little actual effect. He¡¯s yet to learn that political advantage is worthless if it doesn¡¯t do anything else. Fighting skirmishes in place of others doesn¡¯t do anything for the country and its people, it''s a wasted effort.

    ¡°Four decades! Four decades of security! Four decades without one step back! Four decades of vigilant defense!¡±

    Still, at least he bothers to put in effort. For all the chittering I get about Renner growing stale, she¡¯s at least making something of her unwed years. What of Zanac? He¡¯s stagnant. He does nothing. He was such an energetic boy, intellectual that he was.

    ¡°Four decades of defeating our enemies, dashing their armies against the plains, routing their men and driving them back across the border!¡±

    His adolescence, though. I should have seen the signs in him as soon as he turned forteen; I suppose I did, I just ignored them. The best I can hope for now is that he pulls his nose from the breasts of whores and puts them back in books. I ought to count myself lucky neither have taken up the practice of smoking Laira.

    ¡°Four decades of life, of prosperity, of honor, of glory! Four decades in which the red and black banner of Re-Estize has flown unblemished!¡±

    The investigation into the Black Night had begun to yield results. Many of the details were lost to the gloom; however, even a rough outline of the events made it clear it was a several step infiltration, one that had been planned meticulously. At the very least, the men - who themselves were almost certainly all eight fingers - had somehow breached or bypassed the fortress of Ro-Lante without setting off an alarm, and then did the same to slip into Valencia, all while avoiding patrols, sentries, and guards. The odds of a traitor among the palace staff were high, though, this made the very grandeur of the act strange.

    ¡°Four decades of our blood valiantly spilled to protect our lands. Four decades of our soil yielding bountiful harvests and feeding our people.¡±

    I still don¡¯t understand why they didn''t simply send a maid with a knife. Why twenty-four men? Why did they have heavy armor and mage combatants? It''s nonsensical. It couldn¡¯t have given them better odds in killing me. It¡¯s as if they expected the need to hold the palace itself against counterattack, but from whom? Whoever did this either needed a panic, or deemed it unavoidable.

    ¡°Four decades of wealth and prosperity, of purity and sovereignty. Four decades of House Vaiself and their honored helm! We can''t help but ask for another four!¡±

    How they had gotten past the walls of Ro-Lante was still unknown, but the fact that Ramposa was assaulted in his bedroom by wallwalking wetworkers made it clear that the secret passages were compromised. Only eleven in the scope of the world should have known of the passages in the palace: Ramposa himself, his sons and daughters, Defensive Coordinator Jelka, Knight Galdra, Knight Macnamara, Courier Brendel, and Warrior-Captain Stronoff.

    ¡°As it is our joy to say that he has reigned another year, so we shall say that he will rule once again!¡±

    I have complete faith in my men. Galdra and Brendel died in my service, and all three others put their lives on the line that night as well. I¡­ I dare not think of the alternative. Stop, Iliadan. Force yourself. Have you wronged any of your children so deeply that they would let slip such a secret?

    ¡°That we shall always hold!¡±

    It was a horrible question, one Ramposa did not wish to pose., only Aa baleful need. The answer came to him quickly.

    ¡°That we shall never break, never step back, never lose our aegis; that we will never fall to strife, to turmoil, or to chaos; that we shall never suffer the enemy cracking the gates or swarming our cities; that we cannot suffer defeat, surrender, nor loss!¡±

    I have failed them all, but the worst of it has been with Lulara. What a fool you were for listening to that man. That her family name is no longer Vaiself but Selusa is a mistake I will bear for the rest of my days. I¡¯ve always been of half a mind to march to that demesne, string that man up, and retrieve her. He isn¡¯t even a man, he¡¯s a cur at most. I don¡¯t understand how I fell for his words. I can¡¯t undo it now, the crisis would be too great; it was never an option. I wonder if that''s the cause for Renner¡¯s resistance to marriage; she was never close with Vena, but Lulara was only two years her elder. If any of them have whispered away those secrets, she is the only one with proper cause.

    ¡°That we shall always stand firm, always stand tall, always bear our shield between us and the enemy; that we will always maintain our lands with peace, prosperity, and perpetuity; that the enemy shall always fall, always break when we go to war; that we will always achieve victory, supremacy, and glory!¡±

    Still, how that would happen is a different matter entirely. He¡¯s such a recluse, any meeting wouldn¡¯t go unnoticed by the maidstaff. If Selusa is marked as a traitor, then that means his liege, Blumrush, is too, and that simply isn''t possible. Where does that leave the events of the sixteenth, then? A traitor among my sons, daughters, or closest men, or that the secret passages were independently discovered.

    ¡°That we are indefatigable, insurmountable, indestructible, invincible!¡±

    Perhaps the information has come from someone already dead. Long dead. The oldest parts of Ro-Lante date to the time of Andrean II ¡®the Builder¡¯, and it was only completed under Parheiln I. If anyone in the time let the secrets slip- or revealed the plans- it could have been used today. Who, if any, would know such a thing? If that boy to the east knows, he hasn¡¯t shown it yet, and surely the Nix Dynasty has had its more foolish forefathers. Slane? Who knows what they know; it''s not impossible they have weirding magics anyway. Eight Fingers could; they¡¯re close in proximity, and perhaps a forefather or uncle of mine revealed it, either by pact or point. They would have kept it, saved it for something like this. Cunning bastards. How can I fight them? That war would take years, it would be Barbro¡¯s war. How could he fight them?

    ¡°That House Vaiself is unroutable, untarnishable, undefeatable, unending!¡±

    Barbro¡¯s recount of his attack was, in a word, inconsistent; the one unified thread between his reports to Jelka, Vellen, and Theiern was that he was accosted by a single bladesman, whom Teloran chased off into the gloom to never be seen again. The only actual bladework on his body had been on the inside of his wrist, an unusual spot for a wound. Black rumors spoke of it being self-inflicted as some ploy to improve his station. Blacker still were those who supposed it was an attempt to end his own life. Urovana had quietly informed Ramposa of both.

    ¡°That King Thenak Ramposa Iliadan Foresai Vaiself will rule for his forty-first year as he has ruled the previous forty. That this Kingdom is eternal!¡±

    He¡¯ll get this Kingdom one day, but he¡¯s not prepared. His actions on the sixteenth show that. He squandered his resources. He sent his man off to his death - wherever that was - and required rescue. He raved to his sister. He struck her. He couldn¡¯t deliver a coherent account when it mattered. He vomited in the council room. He¡¯s not composed. His behavior is erratic, afraid, and confused. What happens when there is not a Rochefort to come to his aid? What happens when there¡¯s not an Aindra to sweep the palace for him? He¡¯s not prepared to rule. I cannot abdicate, not yet.

    ¡°Glory to King Ramposa the Third!¡±

    I want to get this over with.

    ¡ª

    And thus, House Vaiself stretches itself across another year. Another year for Foresai. Another year with nothing to show for House Boullope.

    Boullope watched as the flower wreath was placed over the neck of the king, he leaning forward in his chair. That it was Ramposa the Third sitting there, and not Andrean the Fourth spoke to the monument of his failure.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Gazef triumphing over Six Arms was something I was prepared for, and I thought Unglaus¡¯s band was fit to fight the Blue Roses, or at least slow them down enough. Teleportation! How was I supposed to account for teleportation? Those magics are something out of legend. First, magic stops Slane from burying the Warrior-Captain, and now it has prevented Eight Fingers doing the same to the king. Damn those accursed magic casters. May that Ainz Ooal Gown and that Evileye burn in pits forever.

    Applause broke through the chamber, Boullope reflexively joining it. Ramposa leaned back, basking in the clapping. Some members of the Royal Faction cheered, throwing their fists in the air and making their own declarations of his glory. His sons and daughters turned in their chairs and joined as well. It continued for a time, Boullope letting his draw out early, before he stopped. Lytton dropped his hands a moment later. Within a few seconds, almost every member of the Noble faction had stopped applauding, including a few independents. The Royals kept going.

    I have no followup. No counterplay. What can I do at this point? Mitigate. Sell assets, useless iron stocks. Wrench an explanation from Slane; have them explain their complete failure to me in a way that makes sense. Debts? Only to the prince, Doll, Eight Fingers, and Six Arms. I dare not snub any of them. I only ought to confer with the prince, assure him I really am in his camp. I¡¯m going to need to wait for Ramposa¡¯s natural death. Who knows what other parts of the Kingdom will fall into imperial hands by then? I need to keep the prince close. Show him that despite this failure I¡¯m still on his side. He¡¯s still indebted to me.

    The independents fell off evenly, Raeven dropped his hands. In practiced fashion, Urovana, Blumrush, and Pespea stopped at once, the chamber falling into silence within a few seconds as the rest of the Royals halted as well. At this, the conductor in front of the assembled musicians resumed movement, and after a waiting flourish with his hands, started the next piece with a downward stroke.

    What in damnation am I thinking? This was all his mistake. He¡¯s not tied to me, I¡¯m tied to him. If I do anything he perceives as questioning him, he can turn around and blow our treason wide open. Vaiself would have a traitor son, but Boullope would be a traitor house. Assuming the worst, he already knows that. Why did he have to send his bondsman off to hunt his sister? We need her alive; the influence her words have among the peasantry can¡¯t be underestimated, it would have made the coronation smoother. The optics could have been good if she had simply been attacked, but he had to slap her in a public space? And then his repeated failures to leash his tongue? Luck of the Greed Kings that no one has made an accusation of his treason public, but who knows who knows?

    The sixteenth was to be a culminating moment, an event to unify the threads of two years. To secure House Boullope¡¯s position as one equal in status and power to House Vaiself. Backroom deals with merchants, slavers, foriegn powers, nobles across nominal faction lines, and the king¡¯s own traitorous son were to have ensured victory. To eliminate Gazef with the aid of border nobles and Slane, then to kill Ramposa in his own palace through use of a dark adventuring team. If Barbro¡¯s coronation was accepted by the rest of the six, immediate war with Baharuth. His ascension to the throne was all but assured; Pespea was a definite supporter, as was Urovana and Blumrush; Raeven, free flying bird that he was, could be brought to the ground by coin; Lytton was already indebted to Boullope, no rejection being likely.

    Godsdammit! The whole affair is rotten. What in the names of the Gods was I thinking by siding with him? Zanac has double the wits, and I doubt I could negotiate half of what I did with his brother, but at least he is consistent. The thought of Barbro becoming king is beginning to terrify me. If I can keep control of him, things would be possibly good, but all that hinges on if. I¡¯ll need to find a better way to keep him down, lead him by the nose in whores and dust.

    This seeming certainty did not prevent Boullope from lacking it, and thus he forged a stopgap measure. If, for whatever reason, any of his fellows rejected Andrean the Fourth, Barbro would have enough men at the palace to force the issue at bladepoint. Not only would Boullope have his own men ready to counter Raeven¡¯s force, but a whole separate force of wetworking men-at-arms, those being the elite soldiers and enforcers of the Narcotics and Assassination divisions of Eight Fingers. Combined with Lytton and the potential to secure Raeven in a last-minute pact, Boullope would kill the threat of armed resistance in its cradle. Re-Estize, even in a crisis of succession, would not fall to civil war.

    What sort of rage consumed him when he tried to have his sister murdered? She¡¯s annoying, and you can almost always find her handprints on the oddest of measures and proposals, but she¡¯s a girl. She¡¯s pretty, she¡¯s charming, and she would be a useful tool. She has her independent flits, yes, but you simply need to feed her a cause to champion and she will. She¡¯s reliably charitable, and thus reliably containable. As a ¡°popular¡± princess, she¡¯s invaluable. How does he fail to see that?

    That Gazef had not died at Carne was surprising, yet Boullope had prepared for such a contingency as well. He was not to let that night slip through his grip. Through contacts with now clandestine slave merchants, Boullope had hired Six Arms, placing one of their men in the Re-Estize City Guard through a favor owed to him by one of its precinct captains. The general council was convened as expected, and its sunset was to be the last that Ramposa would see. The failure was nightmarishly random. A single Assassination division rogue, too witful and cunning a hunter, had tracked prey on an unrelated mission. Falling into the web of the Blue Roses, he spoke of a plot he should not have known of, and forced that team into action. This too had been accounted for, with a band of highwaymen north of Re-Estize to stop their advance, and a second, breakaway force of Boullope¡¯s men further back. This did not matter, and Boullope realized his fatal mistake in only planning for the possible.

    Not as if I want to make friends with the monarchy, but her life is necessary. I still can¡¯t believe her father let her appeal directly to the House of Lords for her slavery ban. At that point, I¡¯m perfectly happy to let her assume that title of hers. I wonder how much more we can rip from her. Promises of charity? Any attention from the royal family at all is legitimizing. I need the next king to fight Vaiself¡¯s enemies beyond the borders, not inside them. I need a king who will not think to act against us.

    Now, he was spent; spent of capital, be it coin, compact, or covenant; spent of plans, fallbacks, and the fallbacks of fallbacks; spent of his vigor, vitality, and velocity; spent of every form of leverage he knew except his men and the prince; spent of momentum; spent of will; spent of care. All was lost to the treachery of a surefire gambit. He knew it would take months to convince himself that this was not a personal failing; rather, dumb luck.

    What now? Keeping a wizard on retainer for one; or, perhaps a witch. Besides that, what? Waddle along? Build forces? Yes, but those are all waiting moves. I have no choice but to remain stagnant. Waiting for what, Ramposa to keel over on his throne? The whole purpose of this was to avoid that.

    Boullope turned to his right, plotting the distance between him and his allies. The throne room was near the limit of what could be called comfortable: the nobles within were not quite butting shoulder to shoulder, but they were close enough to force any clandestine conversation out of the room. Lytton was near, as were many of his vassals.

    It¡¯s unsustainable. That we by order of blood either must have a madman or lush as regent - if we¡¯re lucky. If that fails, it falls to the daughters, and who knows what sort of jockeying for the crown would occur then. Inara and Vena would likely snatch it for House Pespea, I can¡¯t imagine Gilbert putting forward a claim. Would Renner? I could see that becoming dangerous quite quickly, though considering her charity, it feels unlikely. Add a bitch, a recluse, and an airhead to the list.

    The second musical piece ended without Boullope ever paying attention to it. Boullope snapped his head to the front, anticipating the coming of another task. Lo it did: another round of applause came, a repeat of the timing game between Noble faction, Royal faction, and independent highbloods. A careful balance of faction loyalty, performative deference to the king, and the webs of family, be a noble the first, second, or third cousin of another. In all of that social purpose, genuine admiration for the music was lost, another tradition Boullope found the crown to have emptied out. He hated it with all his heart, the entire endeavor brought low by the influence of national politics.

    That power would be in the hands of so few. It''s unbelievable. That an entire Kingdom is forced to suffer the strengths and weaknesses of one family. Worse than unbelievable, it''s unacceptable. How much longer can we plod along like this? We can¡¯t, not any longer. Gods, that¡¯s why I did this now! That it would fail! Why in the name of He of the Jetting Blaze would it have failed?! The boy emperor surely would have been at our gates, but the might of Re-Estize would have come to meet him, a full array of all our forces without the impotence of Vaiself hands. The war wouldn¡¯t have been full of highbloods jockeying for favor with the crown, but a sort of true combat, one for the fate of the Kingdom. A grand unified act of collaboration. Now he will simply come later, and we will be none the stronger to show for it. This whole structure is fucking rotten.

    Boullope swept his gaze to the side, Lytton having left in the interim. He clicked his tongue, and swept his gaze throughout the room to try and spy on his comrade. Boullope was tall enough to peer over the heads of most, but the throne room was far too crowded to spot a single man.

    There¡¯s nothing to do about the regents of our age now; both are unassailable. I can only build faction power now, and through that, domestic power. I ought to approach Lytton now, wherever he went. Likely a side room.

    Boullope broke from his place. The ceremony portion of the anniversary celebration had concluded, with only a reception to follow. Had times been normal, it would have been yet another day of feasting for the Royals - as well as most independents - yet the general exhaustion had yet to leave the nobility. Almost all wished to return to their demesnes as fast as possible, most with urgent business either delayed or harried by the sixteenth and subsequent catastrophes. Boullope hazarded a guess, working his way through the thicket of nobles - many of which were leaving themselves - to enter one of the side reception spaces. He guessed correctly, Lytton sitting on a couch in an empty room.

    ¡°Count.¡±

    ¡°Marquis. Do tell, how are you enjoying the jubilee?¡±

    ¡°Not any more than I always do.¡±

    ¡°Really? I¡¯m thanking the stars for it.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°That we¡¯re having this anniversary at all.¡±

    Lytton¡¯s voice bore a bitter timbre. Boullope had never explicitly informed Lytton of his plans, though he had done his best to hint at their existence. In the weeks running up to the general council, he had sent letter after letter inquiring on the strength of forces that Lytton would bring with him to a future of such meetings. These were met with a deliberately vague response, Lytton understanding the innuendo and speaking of hypothetical violence. Since the sixteenth, however, Lytton hadn¡¯t spoken more than a handful of words to him, none of which had been substantial. Barbro lowered his tone, trying to find a way in with the subordinate who had been dodging him.

    ¡°You speak of the Black Night turmoil.¡±

    ¡°A certain man has gone and made a fool of himself. At the cost of twenty-four men, and another six of absent repute, decided to splatter the halls of this palace for twelve dead. Twelve dead, who among their number, count nothing but paupers, villains, and knights. A man, who for some Godsforsaken reason, decided to hunt our Kingdom¡¯s esteemed treasure in the form of a teenage girl. A man, who without cause, has given House Vaiself a victory. A man who has given them a story, one that they need not utter to believe. Who has given them a conspiracy to fight. Who has given them a stonesure excuse to pass their friends coin.¡±

    I¡¯ve never seen him so close to losing his composure; rageful, but never like this. He thinks Barbro¡¯s hunting of Renner was my idea. I suppose it''s hard to believe that the crown prince is that foolish. I can¡¯t say otherwise, lest he think the prince isn¡¯t under my command. Evade.

    ¡°I see no reason to make those statements of yours.¡±

    ¡°No? Are you to deny that such a thing happened?¡±

    ¡°If there is a master of this conspiracy-¡±

    ¡°If?¡±

    ¡°Yes, if.¡±

    ¡°How rich.¡±

    ¡°In any case, if there is a master of this conspiracy, I doubt this was his intention.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it too! By the Gods I doubt far more! I doubt his wit, I doubt his sanity, I doubt his equilibrium. I doubt he planned for any of this. Rather, I doubt he had the competence or the will to execute his schemes. I mark him a complete incompenent.¡±

    He¡¯s simply going to berate me at this rate; I give up trying to please him.

    ¡°Remember your station; the station you would not hold if I did not give it to you.¡±

    ¡°Shall I be a slave to your liquidity for all time, then? Fettered and mute by the tyranny of an unjust master.¡±

    ¡°Slavery is illegal, Count.¡±

    ¡°Another victory for House Vaiself! Thank you for reminding me.¡±

    The pair fell into silence, Lytton turning his face away with a scowl. Boullope stood for a time, before setting himself down on the couch opposite his ireful comrade. Soon, he spoke.

    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right. I do hold you in bondage unfairly.¡±

    Lytton narrowed his eyes, drawing them across Boullope in reevaluation.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The Prime Minister, what do you think?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I ask that you indulge me, Count.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Lytton paused, spending a moment thinking. He readjusted himself on the couch, lifting his chin off his palm, and spoke.

    ¡°Cailloux has his uses, but-¡±

    ¡°Not who, what.¡±

    ¡°The office itself?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hollow. It only holds authority within the House of Lords, which is, truly, only a meeting club for our faction. All he serves to do is call order, which by all rights should be a duty in the hands of someone else, yet hasn''t been delegated away lest it lose the last of its responsibilities. All the office does is sign off on impotent declarations.¡±

    In that, I agree. Though, it won''t be so for long.

    ¡°Why does it only hold power within the House of Lords?¡±

    ¡°Lord, I don¡¯t take kindly to those attempting to patronize me.¡±

    ¡°Because the prime minister has yet to be powerful.¡±

    Lytton cocked his head.

    ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying with the right man in the position, it will then become valuable.¡±

    ¡°You want me to back your bid? After this?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to back my bid. I want you to back yours.¡±

    Lytton chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

    ¡°Mine?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yours.¡±

    There, something irresistible. You always have craved status, let me present it to you.

    ¡°Fine, tell Cailloux to issue his resignation.¡±

    ¡°I will do no such thing.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You are to challenge him for the spot. You are to convince your peers in the house that you will be better at the role, and then I will do the same thing.¡±

    ¡°Why? You wish to be in competition for the office?¡±

    ¡°Yes. The benefits are self-evident.¡±

    ¡°And which of us is to win?¡±

    I, of course. There is no need for you to win. Even if you lose, you¡¯ll gain status for it.

    ¡°Whomever among us is elected by our peers, be it Cailloux, you, or I.¡±

    ¡°This to show that the Prime Minister¡¯s seat is something to be taken?¡±

    ¡°To be taken, to be desired, and one day, to be coveted.¡±

    ¡°Thus, to overshadow the throne.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°And why will I join in?¡±

    ¡°Twenty standards, three as liquid, rest as forgiveness for House Lytton¡¯s debts to House Boullope.¡±

    ¡°And what of the platinum spent in my bid?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll cover up to half a weight.¡±

    Lytton¡¯s response was instant.

    ¡°I accept.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s done.¡±

    It pains me to have to return to such political games, but violence is a dead end, at least for now. Perhaps the next war with Baharuth will present an opportunity. No matter, House Boullope will know its victory.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (9)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Middle Fire Month, Day 3]

    The thumps of the wagon were anything but gentle. The jerking motion it created threw Tina back and forth, slamming her into the sides of her barrel again and again. One of the wheels was busted; by feeling its rhythm over the past several hours, she figured it was the right rear one.

    You¡¯d think they¡¯d bother to fix it.

    She had counted six voices in the last four hours and forty-seven minutes: a driver, who sat almost directly in front of her; another man who sat in the passenger¡¯s seat, who to her eavesdropping, was some sort of alchemist; as well four caravan guards who seemed to cycle distances from adjacent to the cart to ten paces away. Further along, there seemed to be a seventh man who ran far ahead of the group, the cart occasionally stopping at the behest of what the conversation would suggest was a hand signal. She knew the time to be exactly four hours, forty seven minutes thanks to a timekeep Evileye had lent; this, in addition to a compass, a vial filled with an alchemical substance that glowed when shook, and a wand. They had borne east-northeast for two hours, then turned sharply southward, and eventually, dead-east.

    We¡¯re far off the highway at this point, over two miles. I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s out here.

    Renner had given them a square on a map, stating simply that there was an Eight Fingers¡¯ storehouse somewhere within its bounds, and that they ought to find and destroy it. When asked for any additional details, Renner had muddled the waters further by clarifying that the whole structure was likely underground. How she knew any of this was - as always - a mystery, but it was enough for Lakyus to get that wild-eyed look of a huntress, and thus it was enough for Tina. Eager as they were, actually finding the store was going to be tedious. Each member of the team made some suggestion; Evileye¡¯s an aerial scout and Gagaran¡¯s straightforward sweeps were dismissed out of hand, and though Lakyus¡¯ proposal of finding and tailing an Eight Fingers transport wagon seemed the most workable, it was Tina who made the leap to simply hiding in its cargo. Less walking overall, with the boon that she would likely be deposited straight into the store room.

    It was thus that eight hours prior, with the aid of a generously paid local cooper, Tina and Tia had been sealed inside barrels labeled saltpeter and brine respectively. Evileye, keeping herself invisible through the process, had set the pair on a stack of other cargo at a known pickup point for the courier network, a farmhouse run by the Smuggling division. Thus, Tina had been picked up and loaded onto a wagon; of course, the bastards had to both split her from Tia on a separate supply wagon, and worse, set her in upside down, forcing her to do no small amount of contortion to right herself. Curled into a ball to fit into the confined space, Tina repositioned herself to read the time and direction, shaking her light before observing the instruments. As she was getting a new bearing, the cart suddenly came to a halt.

    ¡°Hark, name and business.¡±

    New voice. Gateguard?

    ¡°Ray Undra, supply shipment.¡±

    ¡°What do you have?¡±

    Change in tone, definitely Eight Fingers.

    ¡°Two crates of salts, two barrels of brine, as well as a keg of distillate; two crates of Laira bulbs, though the rest of our space is full up with the stems. Oh, and a replacement alchemist for the one you lost last month.¡±

    ¡°No shit? He¡¯s gonna run the weights and measures? Good, we¡¯ve been having one of our guys handle it for now, but it''ll be nice to get a professional pair of eyes on it. Happy to meet you, I¡¯m Illian.¡±

    ¡°Ield Forthright. Happy to be working with you.¡±

    I thought the only polite criminals in this country were noblemen and merchants. Didn¡¯t think they could be alchemists too.

    Tina listened to their pleasantries a little longer, counting voices as a few others joined in. After a time, the gate on the back of the cart swung open with a shrill creak. Plodding footsteps followed, with bales being thrown over the side and crates being dragged out, until Tina felt her barrel get lifted out of the bed.

    New man. No grunt, strong. He must be a bruiser.

    A stout dip meant her bearer was on the ground. She was carried over the shoulder in her barrel for a time, passing some threshold as she steadily descended. Rounding a corner, she was set down with a bang, and heard the sounds of other crates and barrels being placed as well. She checked the time.

    Sunset ought to be happening now. I¡¯ll let it get darker.

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Middle Fire Month, Day 4]

    Tina waited near to midnight before deciding to slip out. Checking the timekeep, she rearranged her body, giving herself space to draw her blade. She flipped it around upward, feeling for the seam in the barrel. Jamming her knife right through the seal of the lid, she sliced through its circumference, careful to keep her offhand always bracing the now-loose piece of wood, lest it fall on her head. Lid now severed, she pushed it gently upward - and took her first glimpse of the night. It was dim, but Tina winced anyway as her eyes adjusted from the black of the barrel.

    Lamp somewhere; if it''s near, it''s hooded, otherwise set around a corner.

    Tina slowly rose, keeping care to hold the lid above her. Peaking her eyes over the lip of the barrel, she saw no one. She was on a bottom shelf in a storeroom filled with boxes, the ceiling strutted with wooden beams. Raising out higher, she saw the walls of the room were not daub, but bare earth.

    So this place really is underground. Four by two paces, only one and a half high. One exit, front-right of me. Get to the surface and tell them I¡¯ve found it.

    Tina drew herself out fully. The wooden plank above - the next shelf in the unit - gave her no more than a handspan in clearance, though she slipped out with ease. Now crouched on the ground, she returned the lid to its place on the barrel and began to take a thorough approach. Leaning to the side, she spied the contents of a crate, seeing it was filled with chalky and crumbled stones.

    Lime. So this is the chemical warehouse.

    Footsteps. Tina immediately dove behind the crate, interposing it between her and the exit to the room. She listened intently as the sound of creaking wood rose in volume.

    One set of footsteps. Floor here is packed dirt, but the hall has wooden floor planks. Can keep a good bead on him.

    The footsteps got louder. Suddenly, the light from the dim lamp in the hall was overwhelmed, the silhouette of the crate she hid behind sweeping across the wall. The guard had passed by the entrance to the room, the fiery lightsource he held casting shadows through the space.

    He¡¯s passed.

    Tina turned round, leaning around the side of the crate, before abandoning it as cover and dashing to the door. Standing flush against its frame, she peered out into the hall beyond. The corridor was thin and short, moreso a tunnel than a hall. It was comfortable for Tina, though she suspected even Lakyus would struggle to navigate it, much less fight in it; for Gagaran it would be outright impossible. The way right continued for only a pace, before a sharply-sloping staircase took the ground away and faded into the gloom. Shifting her body closer to the edge, she slowly curled her eyes, head, and back around it, peering down the left. She saw the back of a guard.

    Leather armor. Lamp in his right hand. Shortsword bucked to his right. Left-handed fighter. A man, though he¡¯s short for one.

    Between the thin seams in his body¡¯s silhouette, she could make out parts further in. The tunnel sloped downwards in that direction, a new entrance on both sides every five to six paces; she was able to see six before the darkness grew too thick. Finding the static lightsource that had lit her room earlier, she found that her earlier assumption of it being a hooded lamp was correct: it hung from a hook in the wall four paces to her left. Directly across from her was another store, counting a total of eight rooms. She realized immediately why Renner wanted this place scourged.

    How many reagents are they storing here? No, wait, they had an alchemist. Are they manufacturing here? The first guard here mentioned something about him running the weights and measures. Weights and measures of what? Why would they need an alchemist for that?

    She watched as he continued walking down the hall, measuring six paces away, then ten, then sixteen, then twenty. The light he bore illuminated the entrance to room after room, she eventually being able to count six on each side. Once he reached a full twenty-two paces away he stopped, and rather than turn round, turned directly to his right, and walked. She swallowed involuntarily.

    He¡¯s not going into a room, he¡¯s going down another hall. This place is much larger than I thought.

    Tina proceeded to wait, counting the seconds before he emerged again. Forty-four seconds passed before she spotted the flicker of flame again in the distance, and she watched carefully as he walked round the corner, confirming he was the same guard and observing his walking pace.

    The hall must go off another twenty paces in that direction. Is he the only guard running this circuit? He might be.

    She slipped back deeper into the room, behind her earlier box. She waited for him to pass the entrance to her storeroom again, watching him stop and turn round at the stairs. As he walked away this time, she darted back to the door, looked round to confirm he really was continuing off in the opposite direction, and slipped out of the room rightward. Taking care not to step on the wooden boards - which to her luck had been laying haphazardly - she bolted up the stairs. The tunnel became noticeably more earthen as she ascended, reaching the top to find a short landing, and what seemed to be a cramped foyer to the store.

    Two by one.

    Swiftly sweeping her vision, she spotted what she figured was the exit, an iron-gate. Through its thin bars, she saw the starfield beyond and felt the gentle cool of a midsummer midnight¡¯s air. She got close to it and gently pushed on it. It was locked, the mechanism built into the door itself. Fumbling her hands around the other side, she realized the tumbler was bidirectional, and that the lock was without a way to actuate it keylessly.

    The patrolman must have the keys, no time, he¡¯d be able to see me here, and I can¡¯t kill him without knowing if there are others to raise an alarm. I have sixty seconds tops.

    She shot her hand to her side, sheathing her blade scrambling to retrieve her lockpicking kit. Finding the tightly rolled leather bundle, she unfurled it to reveal a number of tools. Eyeballing the width of the lock, she snatched a pick and a tension bar. The slit was thin, she raised her tools and pressed them in. She suddenly seized, stopping with the tools a hair¡¯s breadth away from contacting the metal. A shallow cut symbol had been carved into the lock body, she not noticing it until the last possible instant.

    Spellbomb. Symbol is lighting. I think that¡¯s ¡°Hadad.¡± Only five characters. My defuser can handle that. Fifty-three seconds.

    Tina looked back to her bundle, exchanging her pick for a cylinder the size of her thumb. Its sides were engraved with an uncountable number of miniscule markings, each marking set on one of six rotatable rings. Lining it up with a symbol on the lock, she pressed the face of the cylinder onto it and pressed a button on its other end, hearing a hiss of air as the device sealed to the lock¡¯s surface. She swapped the hand holding it to her off, before carefully rotating each ring, hearing near indistinct clicks as she did so.

    ¡°H¡±¡­ ¡°HA¡±¡­ ¡°HAD¡±¡­ ¡°HADA¡±¡­. ¡°HADAD.¡± Thirty-nine seconds.

    She closed her eyes and looked back, pressing the button as she did so. She cringed from the flash, able to see it even though she had turned away. Opening her eyes, she blinked twice to restore her vision, before pulling away the instrument and returning it to her kit. Turning to face the lock, she could see the spot where the symbol was glowing a dull red, the markings wiped clean. Returning her pick and bar back into her hands, she slipped them into the lock, finding five pins inside its tumbler.

    Thirty seconds. One is set. Two is set. Three is set. Four is Set. Five is set.

    Tina pushed with her tension bar. The lock didn¡¯t turn past a hair. She tried again and failed. Resetting its position, she tried again.

    Twenty-one seconds. Shit, the counterpin on One is pick-resistant. It¡¯s a spool, have to be careful¡­ Got it. Fifteen seconds. Two is set. Three is set. Four is set. Five is set.

    She tried again. It did not budge. She saw an orange haloed-silhouette waver the periphery. The guard was far closer.

    Eight seconds. Shit, I can¡¯t- No, wait, it''s bidirectional. Four and Five will set like Two and One. Five is a spool counterpin too. Come on¡­ Got it.

    She rapidly undid the lock, opening and bursting out of the gate. It did not creak, she blessing the fact that Eight Fingers took care of its facilities. Flipping round, she closed it just as swiftly, reaching through the bars to grab her bundle from the ground and tools from the lock. She swiftly made out into the night air, diving headlong into a thicket of grass. She waited, concentrating on the sounds of his movements. The hum of cicadas nearly drowned the sound of distant footsteps, those ending a few seconds later.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    He¡¯s stopped. Don¡¯t come upstairs, you bastard. You didn¡¯t notice a thing.

    The silence persisted for another seven seconds, only broken by the creak of a wooden board. This told Tina she was safe, and that the guard had returned to his regular patrol route rather than ascending and checking for the cause of the noise. She flipped onto her back to look at the place she had just emerged from. It was a hill, sharply sloping up away into darkness. She realized the store was built in the lip of a natural overhang in its side, descending under it. Turning round, she saw she was at the edge of a thicket situated in grasslands, a standard expression of the pastoral vistas around this part of the country. Tall grass like this always spurred an inner satisfaction in her; plenty of cover. What was less satisfying were the two guards patrolling it.

    Two guards in the field; one is fifteen paces away, other is twenty. Lucky they didn¡¯t see that flash. Shortswords and lamps, leather armor.

    Tina decided to creep round the edge of the hill, the landmark mound being the only arboreal bastion in site. Circumnavigating it took her over a hundred paces distance, spotting one other guard on a separate patrol route, as well as a wagon, which she presumed was the one she rode in on. She could spot no stables, however.

    Keeping four guards on staff at once. Estimate from the size of the facility that there are another four I haven¡¯t seen. Shit, eight total on site? Expensive, but reasonable. I should let the rest of the team know where I am.

    Tina made it nearly to the opposite side of the hill. She had found no other entrances, nor hidden trapdoors as escape hatches. Out of sight of the three guards, she broke into the field at full speed, quickly dashing a full eighty paces into it. Satisfied she was distant enough, she mentally fumbled for a message link on instinct before remembering that Evileye had not cast one; rather, she had given Tina an entirely different set of instructions.

    Oh, yeah. How do I do this again? Evileye really didn¡¯t give many details.

    Tina looked at the heavens above. The night was bright, nearly a full moon, the sky painted with a dense starscape. She was not gazing idly; rather, she was searching for a specific star.

    The star at the end of the dragon¡¯s tail¡­ the star at the end of the dragon¡¯s tail¡­

    The sixteenth had shown that their enemy possessed a modicum of arcane confidence, with both a lich and three mortal casters among the assaulting force. This had made Evileye wary of magical wards and drogues, thus she had insisted on doing this particular operation without message spells, lest they be caught and trip arcane sensors. Her workaround was the wand she had given Tina. Following the gentle curves of the vault¡¯s galaxy, Tina spotted the star she was looking for, a bright and vibrant one glittering at the end of a constellation.

    There it is. Draw and speak the words, right?

    She drew her wand and held it out, straightening her arm and aiming up. Bringing her eye in line with her arm, she made sure the point of the wand touched the star. Muttering the incantation so quietly as to not part her lips and thus ruin her aim, she finished speaking, and waited. Nothing happened; no pulse from the wand, nor spew of motes from its end. No ring of magic appeared.

    Wasn¡¯t there supposed to be some kind of flair?

    She pulled away the wand, uncovering the star behind it. It was no longer white, but red. She blinked a few times to confirm to herself it wasn¡¯t a trick of the eye. It really was red.

    ¡­What did she have me do?

    She took a step back involuntarily, and the color of the star shifted, growing more orange. This made her pause, and she stared for a time in wonderment, before drawing back more slowly. The color shifted deeper into the oranges, though the further she pulled back, the less it changed.

    It¡¯s not gonna stay like that, is it?

    She stared, in astonishment, for a few seconds more before remembering herself. She brought her eyes down to earth, swiftly stowing the wand and drawing her blade.

    Clear out the rest of the patrols. Light sources. Break back in and kill the guard inside. If the men from the cart are here, that means seven more. Six bladesmen and one alchemist. With that star¡­ changed like it is, it shouldn¡¯t take them more than thirty minutes to arrive now. Let¡¯s see if I can¡¯t get this place cleared before that.

    ¡ª

    Lakyus blinked, not believing the sight before her eyes.

    ¡°How many like this?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-two, Evil Boss, but there are two larger rooms way in the back that account for roughly triple the floorspace of any of these. One is just more storage, but the other has a lot of weird equipment in it.¡±

    By the will of the Still Mere.

    The size of the place was unbelievable. From a distance, the entrance wouldn¡¯t have been visible. At the day¡¯s zenith, the only thing someone would see would be a hill with an overhang. Get closer, and a small hole would reveal itself in its side, a single locked and trapped gate leading into a tunnel that contained material wealth beyond the accumulations of all but the wealthiest merchants.

    Salt, saltpeter, lime, brimstone, antimony, arsenic; brine, vinegars, solvents, oils; aqua regia; aqua fortis, vitriol, sal ammoniac; soaps, fats, tallows, bouillon even - what possible use could that have? Powdered cinnabars, powdered slate, powdered¡­ anything; laira bulbs, stems, latex, leaves, roots; ajina, enkashi, mandrake, nyukuri, galgen maennlein; isolated phlogiston, red, white, blue, yellow, orange aspect salts; fluxes, so many earthen fluxes and¡­ and¡­ so much else.

    Lakyus turned down the tunnel¡¯s length, counting room after room; she caught Evileye as the arcanist returned from its other end. She had yet to walk its length, but Tina had assured her it bore deep into the hill. The scale was sickening.

    All of this can¡¯t be used for production, right? This is so much. Is all this what goes into Black Dust? That can¡¯t possibly be right. Is this what Renner meant by ¡°adulterants¡±? Why do they have the rest of the plant? Don¡¯t they just need the bulbs? Maybe they process it all, and that¡¯s what the rest of this is for. They would go to this length? Be this prudent and thrifty in the production of drugs?

    ¡°Weird equipment?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Evil Boss; there was some alchemy gear, some large scales, and what looked like a grindstone but like¡­ more of a tub. I¡¯m not sure how to explain.¡±

    ¡°Evileye, did you see what she was talking about?¡±

    ¡°I did. It¡¯s not a tub, but a solid mixing vat for bulk production. This warehouse- er, ¡®storage-hill¡¯ is where they¡¯re making the solid reagents for later manufacturing stages.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s interjection was well-timed, she having gently floated through the length of the complex in search of signs of abjuration spells. Thus, like Tina, she had seen the full breadth through to the furthermost places below the hill. Lakyus quickly dubbed it too narrow for herself to navigate, instead relying on her fellows to convey the horrors deeper within.

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I was right, there are drogues here.¡±

    Magical wards? Is she serious?

    ¡°How strong were they?¡±

    ¡°They were cast at the second tier, so nothing significant. The rune on the gate lock, however, was third tier.¡±

    ¡°They have someone like that on hand?¡±

    ¡°That lich is still out there, but this is supposed to be a Narcotics Division facility, right? Think about the Black Night, they had casters there. Eight Fingers can simply afford such services like this, hire wizards. There was that alchemist here, so perhaps the leadership is more enlightened when it comes to hiring experts. Perhaps they keep some abjurers on retainer, even.¡±

    Why would they work for Eight Fingers? How could one stand to do so? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re disaffected children with a father slain on the fields of battle unwittingly roped into doing the work of local gangs. They¡¯re professionals, aren¡¯t they?

    ¡°Why would they-¡±

    ¡°Work for criminals? Jobs through the Magicians Guild can be unstable. It¡¯s expensive by its nature, volatile in its demand. Magic has its off seasons - or in the case of this Kingdom, off centuries. Something like Eight Fingers offers stable work. Laying and maintaining sensors, trips, alarms, and the nodes in between. Even spellbombs need upkeep.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not as if you resort to such things.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, my circumstances are vastly different. I am not a wide-eyed wage-to-plate young journeyman scraping by with only the spices I can conjure to then hock. I can go a month between meals, withdraw from the world and lair wherever I please. There are many who never dig deeper than the first and second strata of magic. What jobs are there for them? Penning the same scrolls over and over again? Working with an artificer to create something like a magical lamp? Yes, that¡¯s work, but so is this. Who knows how many sites they cover. It is a life of travel and continual income. That¡¯s more than most could ever hope to aspire to.¡±

    All that, and the answer is money? Greed? Why not work for overhanded people? Petition your services to a house, start your own magical apprenticeship, or anything equivalent. Anything but siding with those mudborn men. How wicked of them. I don¡¯t want to think about this now.

    ¡°You mentioned a bulk production of reagents. Why do it en masse, and why do it here?¡±

    ¡°Though they have several rooms stuffed to the brim with it, Laira isn¡¯t actually processed at this site. They¡¯re doing it at their brewing facilities, so to speak, and that means they need to export supplies to those sites.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s a resilience measure?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, if you need a crate of cinnabar, one of saltpeter, and one of lime, only to then crush and mix it, it doesn¡¯t make sense to ship each reagent individually.¡±

    ¡°One box of mixed components gets stolen-¡±

    ¡°Less dust.¡±

    ¡°One box gets stolen of unmixed compounds-¡±

    ¡°No dust. Exactly, which is the problem they¡¯re trying to avoid here. It would have been clever, except we found the source in their distribution network, and we can destroy it.¡±

    I ought to thank Renner for the information about this place, but I''m struggling to see how. I do wish to destroy this syndicate, or destroy its membership, but it¡¯s not as if I can do that yet. When she said cripple, she really just meant cripple, didn¡¯t she?

    ¡°Tina, what was your count?¡±

    ¡°Ten total. Eight bladesmen, a monk - probably ex-adventurer - and an alchemist.¡±

    ¡°So they had ten stationed here?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure how many they wanted here - but probably less than ten. The alchemist was supposed to stay here, but the rest were harder to figure out. They had a bunch of straw mats laid out in the living space, but I''m pretty sure most were there for the caravan who was staying here tonight.¡±

    ¡°Minimum complement?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how they could fit more than twenty- er¡­ minimum complement?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the least amount of men they would have stationed here.¡±

    ¡°Four, at least - including the alchemist. That¡¯s what their patrol pattern suggested at least.¡±

    They would value this place at four men? All this under guard by four men? A wealth greater than most merchants will ever hope to spend in their lives all under the guard of four men, one of which may not even be capable of combat in the first place. Are they that reckless or that wealthy?

    ¡°Evileye, how much do you think this is all worth?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a sorceress, not a merchant.¡±

    ¡°Right, but, can¡¯t you make spices? Salts and things?¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, to make this much ex magic?, it would take every mage in the land working for a year. They¡¯re mining this. Well, maybe they¡¯re making the exotic stuff from magic, but everything else? Not a chance. If I had to give a number, I¡¯d say thousands of gold coins worth, but that¡¯s me saying that.¡±

    Thousands of gold in materials. Thousands of gold? Of course, how could it be anything else? This Kingdom is being rotted out, people smoking their minds away with a pipe. Of course its makers would have money. Of course they would be wealthy.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem too off.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to take anything?¡±

    ¡°No point. All this stuff is low grade, and I haven¡¯t a clue about alchemy.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. What do you want me to say? It¡¯s not real arcana.¡±

    Really? Not sure how you can say that. Agh. I¡¯m pissed.

    Lakyus turned in place, sweeping her gaze over crate after crate of supplies.

    This is unimaginable. This is terrifying. How many lives would this have ruined? How many people would have been hollowed out and destroyed by this? How could anyone side with Eight Fingers? It¡¯s- It¡¯s infuriating. I want to run the lot of them through. Every single one. I really do.

    Lakyus thought for a moment, setting her hand on the haft of her sword and clenching it. She took another look at the goods around her, speculating not at the harm they could have caused, but at the blades slaked and blood shed to acquire them. Her next words were spoken with determination and rage.

    ¡°Alright, everyone out! Evileye, bury this place.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Lakyus, Tina, and Gagaran cleared out of the store immediately, dashing up the stairs and backing away from the entrance. Evileye lingered for a bit, examining the structure, before retreating herself. Stopping directly outside, she turned back to the tunnel, held out her hand, and spoke an incantation.

    ¡°Move Earth.¡±

    A sudden splay of magic in the air. Thunderous booms came one second after another, the hill shuddering with each one. After the fifth of such quakes, Lakyus realized that Evileye was collapsing each room one by one. She heard horrible noises of beams snapping, puffs of humid earthen air that ruffled her hair, and bangs that shook the ground upon which she stood. The pattern continued, each bang resolving sharper than the last as Evileye¡¯s magic made it closer to the entrance. Eventually, a swill of detritus spilled out of the entrance, that too being buried under the side of the hill, the lip collapsing into itself. Evileye spent another moment manipulating the ring in front of her, before letting it dispel. The hill seemed to sag slightly, before things suddenly became quiet again, only the hum of insects remained.

    ¡ª

    Tina had rarely seen Lakyus so visibly ireful.

    Evil Boss is getting the worst of this, isn¡¯t she? I knew a long war would be rough, but this is different. She needs something simple to clear her head, maybe a monster hunt. Simple. Not complicated for us. If only we had the time.

    ¡°Evileye, you have mana left?¡±

    ¡°Plenty.¡±

    ¡°Leave a bomb at the entrance, hopefully we can catch a few that come back to retrieve their stuff.¡±

    That¡¯s not something she¡¯d usually do. Good.

    ¡°It could be a couple days before they find it. I¡¯ll need to add a few extension prefixes to the spell.¡±

    ¡°Is that difficult to do?¡±

    ¡°No, but I¡¯ll need to do a ritual casting. Take a few minutes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Evileye turned back toward the hill  and began weaving more arcane forms. Embossing iridescent words in the air, she wrote each symbol carefully; they glowed and slowly faded to hide themselves from onlookers. Tina looked at her for a time, and then remembered the matter of the wand. As she approached from behind, Evileye took notice and greeted her.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°That star¡­ it¡¯s not gonna stay like that?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Why wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Can you just go around changing stars? Can I?¡±

    ¡°Not without that wand, I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But it''s a spell, right?¡±

    ¡°Not like the ones I cast. I am an arcanist, and yes, tiered spells are powerful - like this thing is going to be once I¡¯m done - but there are older and stranger forms of magic. Things deeper in the lore of the world. That wand is one of those things.¡±

    ¡°How old is it?¡±

    ¡°Older than me. Actually, older than anyone I¡¯ve known - perhaps, minus the dragons. Oh, speaking of which.¡±

    Evileye reached out an open palm, maintaining the spell¡¯s cast with her other hand. Tina fumbled it off her side, returning it to Evileye. She flipped it over in her hand a few times, inspecting it, before raising it to the sky. Her arm went limp a moment later.

    ¡°Ah, someone else changed it back.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Someone already changed back the star.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Who knows. There are plenty of beings that watch the night sky.¡±

    Tina looked back up to the vault above. She couldn¡¯t tell why, but suddenly the sky felt a little bigger.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (10)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Middle Fire Month, Day 5]

    The realization that she was not human had thrown everything into flux. Over the last thirteen days, she had slowly pieced the world back together, placing down concepts only after she had turned them in front of her mind¡¯s eye. There were a few things that became immediately apparent: that humans were animals, crude spawn of fleshy wombs that had fashioned themselves supreme; that this supremacy was a delusion, that their Gods were not simply empty, but themselves inhuman; that they not only misunderstood the world but could not understand it. Renner could not decide on whether to lament this epitome or revel in it.

    For everything he¡¯s said to me, I ought to thank him. Thank you, Zanac, for dragging me to the mere. Thank you, Zanac, for cleansing its waters beforehand. Thank you, Zanac, for grabbing me by my nape and forcing my head down. Thank you, Zanac, for showing me my reflection for the first time.

    Renner was sitting at her vanity, staring into her own eyes. Normally, this would have entailed the practice of facial expressions, delicately shaping her expression to deliver the ideal impression. She did none of that now. She was performing no act, drilling no muscles. For the first time, she looked at herself for no other reason than to look at herself.

    I¡¯m a beautiful thing, aren¡¯t I?

    Her face was not blank; rather, she was simply smiling. It was leisurely, an effortless expression of her joy. She let go, ceding control of her visage and letting her emotions drive it.

    Pure catharsis. Clarity. Mirth. Ah, I oughtn¡¯t to lose the rest of the day to myself; I¡¯ve done that twice now. Somehow, for all the gazing at my mask, I never thought I would pick up the practice of catoptromancy. Ironic, no?

    Renner cocked her head slightly, watching the subtle dance of her pupils. She was in one of those long afternoons that tended to vanish when not used productively, leaving only that hollow flavor of a day wasted. She had been wont to spend this time with afternoon teas, lunch-ins, and general attention from Climb, though often she found those precious activities interrupted by her father or duties of socialization with other highbloods. Climb was and always would be her capstone, but everything else had been caught in a general inversion, the value of such verbal gamesmanship plummeting through the floor. This had left her - as always - with a list of tasks, though they were nothing as certain as decoding a cypher or seeking a safehouse.

    I¡¯m absent a ¡°what¡±, and absent a ¡°why¡±. It¡¯s as if I can only define myself in exclusionary terms. I am not human, yet I am not something from an adventurer¡¯s tale. I have little to grip in such a gap.

    Though she had decided on her inhumanity, what this meant practically was nebulous at best. She found cause to question not only her psychic make but her physical one as well. She had spent hours prodding and pinching herself, this to little end. Nominally, her body was the same sort of fleshy thing that the rest of mankind was, and if it wasn¡¯t, she had little idea how she would ever get close enough to another to spot a contrast. That she had never been informed of any physical deformities seemed as evidence against this, though this brought Renner to the subject of her radiant beauty; though exceptional, it was by no means abnormal, and she was left with little recourse.

    Perhaps the answer lies deeper in my blood. My father and mother, their patrilineal and matrilineal lines. Ah, that would likely be a more productive avenue. The question of my full-blooded sister remains, however, and of my supremacy relative to her. The route doesn¡¯t seem fruitful, but it''s not as if I have a richer vein to rip open.

    Renner drew herself up from her vanity, stretched, and rebuilt her mask.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Your Highness, how wonderful of you to drop by. Did you have anything new you wanted to read? Y¡¯know, I just got in a copy of Lord Unuloupe¡¯s new work.¡±

    Renner loathed Yelta with a passion second only to Barbro.

    ¡°Thank you, but I must refuse.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? It''s the novelized sequel to ¡®The Rye and the Wabe¡¯. I had it on good authority that you liked that production. You might regret letting it slip, Your Highness.¡±

    Did that gossip truly need to work its way to him?! That was over forty days prior - though it feels longer. Why didn¡¯t you forget?

    As a young child, books had been a welcome distraction from the confusing mental lapses those who surrounded her were subject to. The idea that she could gain knowledge both silently and in solace enthralled her, and Librarian Yelta had been happy to indulge her. After confirming the details with her other educators, and with a handful of lessons on the letters and their sounds, she was let loose into the canons of Re-Estize¡¯s finest children¡¯s authors at the young age of four. She burned through volume after volume, burrowing herself deeper into work in tandem with her growing frustrations at the odd inadequacies of her family at recognizing the truth of things; worse, at refusing to listen to her.

    ¡°You speak truly? Perhaps I¡¯ll borrow it soon, though I do have other things of import to read first.¡±

    ¡°Now I really am wondering if you¡¯re actually sure. You¡¯ll want to borrow it fast, who knows how the maids will latch onto it once they hear about it. Had I another copy I would hold it for you, yet I only have one. You¡¯d be surprised how difficult it was to acquire.¡±

    Accept a no when I give it to you. You aren¡¯t high-blooded, yet you have the gall to speak like that. How did you even enter our service? Were you such a superb educator that you smashed through the walls of Ro-Lante and the thick skulls of my contemporaries only to deny me the same elucidation you gave them?

    From that age to around six months into her fifth year, the library was hallowed ground, a nook to bury herself in and forget her troubles and learn of new ones. This early love soon soured as she ran up against the walls of what and was not reading deemed fit for princesses; books other than fiction were often outright denied to her, and what was granted were codices on topics deemed feminine enough for a princess. Renner had learned a number of more advanced techniques from said compendia - poise for every particularity, from posture to pout - but this information was consumed all too swiftly as well. Every time Yelta smiled that gentle gaze of his, gently pushing her from histories or tratesies he deemed too advanced for her, her sanctuary was undone a little more. Within a month of meeting Climb, she realized her respite had proven false.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t speak to that matter. No, I¡¯m simply in need of the genealogical records.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that?¡±

    This had been made all the worse by her second brother¡¯s near residence in the place. He had restrictions, yet they were shallow compared to the indignities forced upon Renner. He could read without limit, and from the conversations she had heard between the pair, he had even gone so far as to read dark-bestiaries and study monstrous-kins. She had watched as Zanac made the library his refuge, a permission she was denied again and again. The degree of shame and of horrid anger she grew in her heart towards her own sex as a result of this was overwhelming; it shredded her. When she pushed for permission to access the same texts as her brother, Yelta displayed a suffocating patronage, couching every no in assurances of her purity and innocence. No matter what arguments she stringed together, he remained firm that she was a princess and nothing more. Eventually, Renner tired, and simply gave up; she relegated herself to that image Yelta, her father, and every other figure of authority in her life wished her to have, and let her mouth not open on such matters evermore.

    ¡°Well, I want to see the lines of my families detailed for me to read. I know little beyond the basics of my House¡¯s history.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s inspiring you to do that now?¡±

    Whom else among Valencia¡¯s denizens would he dare speak to like that? I am royalty, I am fifth in line to the throne. Picture him questioning my brothers that way. Is he mad? This is why I always send Climb for such matters, but that¡¯s not possible here; at least Yelta never questions him.

    ¡°Would you take issue if it was merely a flit?¡±

    ¡°Not at all! Let me retrieve Compendia Vaiself.¡±

    That storybook for children? He must be mad! I want the actual history, not its malformed counterpart.

    ¡°Oh, I was in search of the full record, and perhaps the expanded genealogy too?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you would like those. It¡¯s all dry plodding on about ¡®who begat who.¡¯¡±

    Oh and by-the-by, it¡¯s ¡°who begat whom.¡± Perhaps my country is innovative; while Baharuth is dastardly tossing shavings of its educated nobility into the civil service, Re-Estize has countered with the wonderful advancement of hiring illiterate librarians.

    ¡°I¡¯m quite set on this. I feel I owe my predecessors a counting of their names, at least once.¡±

    ¡°Ah, there¡¯s that Vaiself sense of duty. Your brother off in the borderlands slaking his blade on imperials, your two sisters doing their best for their husbands, and you with that deep respect for your elders and ancestors.¡±

    ¡°Eh? You use such romantic terms. Thank you, Yelta.¡±

    ¡°As always, providing service to Her Highness was never something I needed thanking for.¡±

    ¡°Well, I appreciate that.¡±

    When I approach Zanac to secure a future for my puppy and I, I ought to make your hanging a condition of my bargain.

    The librarian turned around and made for the deeper parts of the library, Renner tailing him. The space was expansive. Sitting at ground level on the south side of the palace, it stretched across two chambers, one large and one small, and an upper balcony connecting the larger of the two to the second story of Valencia proper. This was where the books open to other nobility without bespoke appointments were, those with city manors having been given perpetual invitations to the books stored there. Running reading groups was ostensibly a duty of the resident princess, and Renner had diligently performed in this role, organizing and selecting whatever books they actually possessed multiple copies of; as such, a small flock of noblewomen descended once a fortnight to discuss the latest works of fiction or stageplays that had captured the imaginations of the nobility, though the circumstances of the last few weeks had conspired to turn the group bimonthly.

    That this place only ever serves as a place for palace guests to wet their whistle is perhaps the worst offense of Valencia. The very idea of locking a library behind a fortress wall is asinine. Knowledge is not something wasted on the city folk, it is something cherished by and dear to them. Imagine a dawn that falls on a Re-Estize with not one-in-one-hundred literate individuals, but one-in-ten. How much greater is the productive capacity? How valuable is the ability to craft instead of simply harvest? Even Baharuth lags in this; one grand library in Arwintar and nothing more. Picture one in every town, every way station along the highway. It needn¡¯t be large, nor contain the greater works of our time, but the impact it would have. Pray tell, Chardelon, is this why you hate this place?

    Large windows broke the space with the languid beams of the afternoon sun. The shelves were tall, though they only lined the room; its center was reserved for a number of sitting spaces at the expense of capacity. This was bad enough in her eyes, but the content of the shelves was no better, as the books here were the sort of cheap literary fodder that Renner disdained: dull tales of heroism or convoluted love plots. Renner held her tongue.

    Perhaps I ought to be less ireful at this. This is just another aspect of mankind¡¯s foolishness. How did I ever think myself a member of them?

    Yelta and Renner passed into the second chamber. This was a far more cramped space, the second story lost in exchange for a much higher density of shelves. It was not possible for Renner and Yelta to walk abreast; instead, they slipped single file through the thin aisles of what she considered the actual store of books. Delving further into the grid, the pair wound until they found an earmarked space, the maze suddenly breaking into a square clearing four paces per side, with just enough space for a pair of chairs and low-slung table in its middle. Glass cabinetry held row after row of thick tomes, uniform sets of laws, royal decrees, and records of rule. Yelta drew his eyes ¡®cross the cabinets, as did Renner, searching the titles for their books of interest.

    Ought there to be a guard posted here? Someone could walk in off the palace lawn and find these. Do we possess such an indifference towards our own history? No, there needn¡¯t be a guard here, these should be in a vault. Perhaps there are magical defenses; wards woven over a century ago? Perhaps that was the intention; unfulfilled promises of my forefathers.

    Yelta snagged on himself, and with an upbeat grunt, spotted their quarry. It was a thick tome, sitting alongside other weighty documents on Re-Estize¡¯s past - specifically in between the seizure of E-Rantel and the negotiated settlement with Re-Blumrushur and Re-Pespea. Withdrawing a keyring from his breast pocket, he fumbled through them to find the stout one required, before shoving it into the lock. Twisting it, he drew open the cabinet door and tipped out the book of interest, snatching the detailed house history in his dexter. Using his offhand to grab the second book - this one the spliced together genealogy records of several houses - he stacked them, batted off the dust, and presented them to Renner.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Here you are, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Yelta. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to sit right here.¡±

    ¡°Who am I to refuse your request? Though you may find better company out there.¡±

    I¡¯m not in the mood for company; in any case, I would be ill-equipped to handle it.

    ¡°It sounds nice, though I wouldn¡¯t want to get distracted. Oh, actually, may I have those keys? I know these texts have a habit of referencing other things from our records, and I don¡¯t want to inconvenience you with repeated summons to unlock other of these cabinets.¡±

    Yelta cocked his head, eyes darting for a moment.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, I think that would be fine. Here you go.¡±

    Yelta dropped them into Renner¡¯s hands

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything, or if you want me to get you that book.¡±

    Please just leave. The exit is only twenty paces behind.

    ¡°Thank you, I will.¡±

    ¡°Please, enjoy, Your Highness.¡±

    Yelta turned and walked off, Renner releasing a chuff when it became clear she was truly absent his presence. She set down her books on the table, before plopping down herself on one of the chairs beside it. She tossed open the cover and began to read.

    ¡ª

    Ah, and thus she had met and married House Bolloupe¡¯s count, only for him to die a year later, and then engaged with Valleon the First. So she was still young when that happened, widower tends to imply age. Well then that matter is settled.

    Renner pressed the back of her neck, slowly rubbing back and forth. It had grown stiff over the last few hours; she had ignored it in the hopes that she would hit upon some grand realization before it bloomed into an outright headache. As the investigation went nowhere quickly, she slowly came to regret that decision, now being able to feel the beats of her heart as blips of pain in her temples. Now, her headache had broken a new threshold; she chose to sit back in her chair, crane her neck upward, and close her eyes.

    This is fruitless. Any illegitimacies would have long since been struck and burned, and most everything else ill-fitting would have been left unpenned as well. The only relevant points feel like the illnesses they have been subject to, and if my mother being a feeblemind was something that could slip through blood, then it would make Lulara the same as I, which she isn''t. Should I retrace the line of Kings? Worth a gander.

    Her eyes still closed, she began to count the tree of kings, tallying the years of reign in her mind.

    My father¡¯s now four decades of reign as Ramposa III; thirteen years of Theiern II; nineteen years of Parheiln II; twenty seven years of Andrean III; eleven years of Ramposa II; eighteen years of Ramposa I, ¡°The Mighty¡±; sixteen years of Parheiln I; nineteen years of Andrean II, ¡°The Builder¡±; eight years of Theiern I; one year of Draelic I; one year of Illian I; nine years of Valleon I; and seventeen years of Andrean I, ¡°The D?mon Slayer.¡± To think that this Kingdom has stood for a hundred and ninety-nine years, almost two centuries to the dot.

    What of the history before that? Four-hundred and twenty-three years after the coming of the Four¡­ hm, likely the Six, no? Another point to investigate. ¡°D?mon Slayer,¡± a chance there¡¯s something there? He made a pact with a d?mon, and then killed it, if I recall. I doubt it would be anything as simple as ¡°Your third granddaughter eleven times removed will have the soul of a d?mon,¡± if I dare frame myself in such rote terms.

    Renner opened her eyes, and returned to the house records splayed on the table in front of her. She pincered a large block of pages in her fingers, skipping to about halfway through the text, before more carefully searching for the relevant tale. The history was mostly constructed with anecdotes from the life of Andrean the First, the man who bore the Kingdom of Re-Estize into the world; it told of his adventures, his conquests, and his triumphs; of House Vaiself when it was not a royal house, but a line of witch hunters. Her eyes snagged on a passage, recognizing it as the account of Andrean¡¯s encounter with an Archfield.

    ¡°...And it was thus that Andrean and his armies - which had been drawn from all the cities and lands and peoples over the hills and mountains - entered the city of Re-Estize, and it was thus that he fought its way to its core, slaying the fel armies of the Fourth Archfiend as he did so. At the center, he came upon the Fourth Archfiend, D?mon of the Fourth Circle, Brog¡¯Drukil. The baleful pit-spawn spake an edict that, after killing Andrean, he would lay waste to the armies of the Witch-Slayer, not simply those assembled before him, but all the cities and lands and peoples o''er the hills and mountains.¡±

    ¡°Andrean thus offered a pact; that for twenty years of his life, the pair would instead duel; if Andrean was to be defeated, then the line of Vaiself would fall into servitude under Brog¡¯Drukil; if Brog¡¯Drukil was to be defeated, that he would be vanquished to the pit eternally, and that his name and every edict he had spoken would lose all power when writ or spake. The d?mon gazed upon his yearling face and accepted his pact, and the pair waged a terrible battle, leading to the destruction of the city¡¯s center, a great razing of the core in fel flames; the battle lasted from the dusk clear through to the dawn, and as the first rays of the sun¡¯s light fell upon the world, they fell upon the blade of Andrean as he slaked it with the heart of Brog¡¯Drukil, and it was thus that the Fourth Archfiend was defeated, and all the edicts, curses, and pacts he had formed were shattered but the one he had just entered.¡±

    ¡°And it was thus that Andrean the Witch-Slayer became Andrean the D?mon-Slayer. Upon his victory, Andrean in his exhaustion withdrew his helm, and watched in amazement as it morphed in his hands - changing in both shape and color - into a crown of golden-white metal. He turned to the assemblage, the army he had forged from all the cities and lands and peoples o¡¯er the hills and mountains, and proclaimed the founding of a Kingdom of Re-Estize, of which the city would become the capital, and upon the spot he stood would be shaped the palace from which he would rule. And it was thus that Andrean the D?mon-Slayer became King Andrean the First, and it was thus that the dawn that marked the four hundredth and twenty-third year from the arrival of the Four that the founding of the Kingdom did come.¡±

    Renner blinked a few times, then sighed. Dissatisfied, she closed the tome. Hours upon hours of investigation had yielded nothing; no sure leads as to her make, nor hints as to the cause of her being. Some low ire burnt in her heart, a growing resentment at her seeming lack of place in things. She considered surrendering the task entirely and sulking back to her room; though she was of half a mind to spring up and do just that, she kept herself in her chair, forcing a little patience from her exhausted form.

    The tale would be boyish if it wasn¡¯t the founding narrative of the Kingdom. Ah, but who says such things need not be? If it¡¯s a world of menfolk, what stops their delusions from saturating their inkwells? Well, in any case, that left no room for favorable interpretation; every pact of his - minus the aging - was shattered. What a terrifying thing to sell, one¡¯s own years. Wait, ¡°yearling face?¡±

    Renner reopened the book, fanning back to the page she had just left on. Her eyes darted to the source of her confusion, finding that the word was as she remembered it.

    Was he not thirty-eight by then? In what world could that be called ¡°yearling¡±? Perhaps it¡¯s a play of words, a contrast to the later havoc wrecked upon him by the Archfiend? It feels too strange a turn-of-phrase. I don¡¯t recall anything like that at any other point in the histories.

    Renner rapped her fingers furtively against the arm of her chair, turning up from the book and staring into the distance. She waited for a time, yet couldn¡¯t shake the taste those words had left in her mouth. She looked back to the book and flipped through a few pages, looking for anything akin to such words. She didn¡¯t find anything. Shifting her gaze from that, and back to the genealogy records, she retraced the line of kings, stopping when she touched the name of Andrean the first. The count of his years of reign was written there, the word ¡°seventeen¡± hovering next to his name on the page, both enveloped in a gilded box made from gold-speckled ink. The cause of his death was also recorded, simply stated as ¡°felled in a duel with the enemies of the east.¡±

    So, thirty-eight years of age, plus the seventeen years of rule - and I suppose the twenty he gave to the demon - and that totals to seventy-five. He was seventy-five, and yet the cause was a duel? Yes, he was a great hero, but I can¡¯t imagine a man so spry at such an age. What sort of fool would he be to accept a duel? This reeks of an omission. If that¡¯s the case, then there¡¯s no chance it hasn¡¯t been lost to time. I haven''t the luck of the Greed Kings - or in this case, the D?mon Gods - so this is outright lost. There don¡¯t happen to be any notes, do there?

    Renner flipped forward a page, then flipped back several times to a piece of harder parchment stock. The tome had been neatly divided into several sections, with several title pages and small cuts in the side of the parchment to identify them. Flipping to the end of Andrean¡¯s account, she spotted a note scrawled in the white space below the final line on the page.

    ¡°Original records hall destroyed in the twenty-year reemergence of the Eastern Warlock. The war record, and tales of the Witchhunt, Battle of E-Rantel and others reconstructed from the writings of the Maiden of the West, the scraps of Bard Yilna¡¯s account, the testimony of Rigrit Bers Caceru-¡±

    Eh?! She was¡­ no, I suppose she was alive back then. Still, what a wild thing to read.

    ¡°-who in addition relayed the testimony of his eminence Tsaindorcus=Vaision, and the assistance of the Slane Theocracy, who have refurnished the lost chronology of House Vaiself. This demands more comprehensive work, will update later - His Majesty Illian the First, First year of Jiyl, Lower Wind Month, day four.¡±

    Oh my darling great-uncle, never had the time for that before your brother stabbed you in the back? I suppose the Black Night does have precedent. Anyway, I haven¡¯t the faintest idea of who the Maiden of the West is, nor Tsaindorcus=Vaision. Associates of the Thirteen Heroes? Rigrit was counted among their number, so maybe. Yilna I know, the bard of my forefather. Do we have that account on hand?

    Renner pushed herself off from the table, snatching the keys Yelta had left for her. She spied through the glass panes of the cabinets, looking for the writings of Bard Yilna. With the knowledge that the text was likely in tatters, she spotted a small wooden box on the bottom of one of the corner shelves. Unlocking that cabinet and retrieving the box, she opened it to reveal several sets of half-bound pages, many of which were burned.

    This must be it. How frighteningly fragile these pages must be. I ought to be careful.

    Returning to the table, Renner set down the box, before reaching in and gingerly retrieving a portion of pages bound only by a broken spine. The parchment was cracked, and she took care not to bend it. Slowly withdrawing and laying it on the table, she began to flip through page by page. The text was dense and penned in a far older style, and though she struggled to decipher it, she was eventually able to recognize the Archfiend¡¯s tale. Tracing her hands gently above the page, she eventually found the original version of the line that had so troubled her.

    ¡°The d?mon bore o¡¯er his yearling visage, the eve of his coming o¡¯ age four years away, and accepted his pact.¡±

    His coming of age¡­ I¡¯d hazard they¡¯re referring to age twenty, not fourteen; he likely believed in the Six, no? So he was not thirty eight, but sixteen, and thus he gave away another twenty years of his life to the archfiend and fell dead with a cumulative fifty-three years on his body. I suppose that¡¯s far more reasonable than the aforementioned total of seventy-five. An odd error; not a transposition, but the alteration of multiple digits. How does that happen? A lax scribe? Something like that. Ah, Chardelon-Dearest, this is pointless.

    Renner gave a pensive smile, giggling lightly at her foolishness.

    The very idea that my forefathers would nestle mention of sepulcher or sulfurous origin in the histories is absurd. Put another way, if other of my ancestors are as I am, wouldn¡¯t they have hid as well? I do not shout myself, proclaim myself an anomaly or anathema through Valencia¡¯s halls. What a twist, that the things which I agonize over are the same thing which I would hide from a future being of comparable make. Besides, if the authors can make an error as severe as crossing the age of the king, what hope do I have of finding anything accurate in these records? Slim to none. Now what? Ah, perhaps simple reading for pleasure.

    Though she found the house canon childish, Renner was bored, and she thought it adequate to forgive herself a small indulgence. Of the narratives inked within, the narrative of the Witch Hunt had long been her favorite, the extended and arduous task of pinpointing its lair being genuinely entertaining to her, turning its exorcism into more of a payoff than a work of dull bladesmanship. Renner gingerly navigated herself to that portion of Yilna¡¯s accounts, reading with a light smile on her face.

    ¡°...F''r the boy Andrean - who ne¡¯er had seen a year more than ten fall o¡¯er the world - didst track the wytch to its lair, and trapping it, slak''d his blade on its manxome form, stilling its living corse. And thus didst that boy, born late the coming of the Six by thirteen score and ten years, slayeth the wytch on this day, and thus didst he become Andrean the Wytch''r.¡±

    Ah, that old style of prose is simply beautiful, isn¡¯t it? To speak like that, I ought to try - wait, born three eighty-five years after?

    Renner blinked, then double-took the page.

    That was his birthday when I assumed he was thirty-eight when the founding of the Kingdom occured, yes, but he was sixteen. The records make it clear he slew the d?mon at age sixteen. Should not it be four seventeen? No¡­ what? He was sixteen when he founded the Kingdom, itself four hundred twenty-three years after the coming of the Gods - well, ¡°Gods¡± - which means he must have been born four hundred seven years after.

    Renner turned up from the scraps of Yilna¡¯s writing, trying to piece together any possible explanation. The date felt entirely unexplainable.

    Somehow, despite him being less than half the age originally written, his birthday remained the same. How? Three ninety five, and yet ten years old. How is that possible? Have I made some critical error in my arithmetic? Not I, but the authors. The quantity is overwhelming. It¡¯s as if¡­ no, review. What of the passage in the later rewriting?

    Renner shot her gaze to the restored house records, swiftly flipping through to seek the later telling of the same story. Arriving at it, her eyes darted across the page until she found the equivalent line.

    ¡°And thus did he slay the witch six years prior.¡± What? That¡¯s an out and out discrepancy; completely dropping the year. Are the writings of Yilna embellished? Almost certainly, but he was the only first-hand account referenced here, sans the other four. I suppose killing an Archdemon at sixteen is far less likely than doing so with more experience. When King Illian rebuilt the record, he must have noticed this and thought it a lie, something to make the tale sound far greater than it actually was. After all, he did have the chronology given to him by¡­ Slane, was it?

    Renner paused, hanging on that last thought for a time. The flavor of the moment changed; no longer exasperated confusion, but a low unease. She began to sense that she was missing something important. Her hands still on the house records, she flipped back to the note left by her forefather.

    What if he was born three eighty five years after the coming of the Six, and what if he was sixteen? It would mean the date of the kingdom¡¯s founding was falsely ahead. It would not be four twenty-three, but four hundred and one. It would mean that the D?mon Gods emerged not four-hundred twenty two years after the Six, but four hundred¡­ four hundred exactly. One hundred and ninety-nine years since then. It would mean that it has not been six-hundred and twenty-three years since the coming of the Six Great Gods. It has been six-hundred. Six-hundred exactly.

    She felt a chill run up her spine, itself triggering an involuntary shudder. Her mind began to crystalize, facts aligning one after another. Andrean the First had been born in the year three eighty five, founding the kingdom in the year four hundred one.

    These are not errors, nor omissions, but redactions.

    Her eyes slowly drifted to the burnt scraps of Bard Yilna¡¯s writing.

    The records that told otherwise were not simply caught in flame, but deliberately destroyed.

    Then, back to the page with the scrawled note; records that were then replaced with false ones.

    Records that were then replaced for¡­ for the cause¡­ of altering the date? Why?

    The line seemed to float off the page. That baleful word, Slane, hung there with an import and a presence it had never done before.

    All this at the behest of the Theocracy. The time from the coming of the Six. Not six hundred and twenty two, but six hundred exactly.

    Her flesh puckered, goosebumps running the length of her form. Of all the realizations she thought were possible to come upon when she began this search, this was not one of them. She was terrified.

    What could this possibly mean?

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (11)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Middle Fire Month, Day 12]

    ¡°I think, genuinely, my heart to the Gods, that he knows exactly what he¡¯s doing. I think they¡¯re all in on it.¡±

    ¡°Even Cailloux?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°You think that Cailloux, Boullope, and Lytton are all on that together?¡±

    ¡°They have to be! You can¡¯t possibly disagree with me on this, can you? Raeven, please.¡±

    Zanac¡¯s imposition hung in the air, Raeven leaning back in his seat and stroking his smooth chin thoughtfully. The pair had decided, through an exchange of increasingly long-winded letters, to spend an afternoon together upon Raeven¡¯s return to Re-Estize - though this beckoned the question of location. The palace had been struck entirely as a meeting place, the appearance of the second prince inviting - of all nobles - Raeven for a chat unseemly and suspicious in the wake of the most recent crisis. Raeven¡¯s manor in the city, those homes of mutual associates, any of the city squares, and Illithica had been struck for the same reasons; the theaters, guild halls, and jousting events had been nixed - in contrast - for the dullness of their activities. This left only one true option, a restaurant, and the two now found themselves at ¡°The Cooper¡¯s Brew,¡± a nouveau establishment that fashioned itself half brewery, half eatery. Zanac and Raeven were thusly furnished with steins, Zanac¡¯s containing a light brew, Raeven¡¯s nearly pitch.

    ¡°Well, your assumption¡­ all correct, fine, but - and hear me out here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ¡°Boullope and Lytton, yes.¡±

    Zanac blinked, went wide-eyed, and broke into gregarious laughter.

    ¡°You think Cailloux didn¡¯t know?!¡±

    ¡°Not a chance. I mean¡­ maybe. But, I mean, think about it. Why do they- rather, Boullope need to tell him?¡±

    ¡°Keep him in their camp?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t need him. They can afford to burn a count for their reputations.¡±

    ¡°Is Lytton not also a count?¡±

    ¡°Semantics at best, surely you agree there.¡±

    ¡°I do. I do. Okay, Marquis, I see your point.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful.¡±

    A knock came at the door to their private room, it sliding open to reveal a pair of waitstaff. Raeven raised a quizzical eyebrow, catching Zanac doing the same; the two women who entered were beautiful, possessing a charm second only to the most adroit socialites, who were just the right balance of buxom and scantily dressed to ensure repeat business without being outright lascivious. The first came in with a platter of assorted cheeses, breads, and smoked meats; the second with a pair of sealed flagons, which were respectively slid onto the table and used to top up their beverages. All of this was done without a word, and Raeven gave the women an appreciative nod before they left.

    ¡°It would seem the owner of this place is a shrewd man.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, though surely this isn¡¯t the sort of place to bring one¡¯s wife to.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he has men for just that reason, no?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the second time in a minute you¡¯ve made an astute observation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not half as dumb as I look.¡±

    ¡°Aren''t I meant to be saying that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re clearly the wittiest Ryle.¡±

    Though there is the matter of his sister.

    The events of the twenty-first had worked their way to Raeven. Had it been caught by anyone except the ears of a House Raeven maid, he would have thought it a fallacy; had it been caught by any of his house¡¯s maids except his first cousin, he would have thought it exaggeration. Raeven understood that fatherly desire for a family meal, and though he thought Ramposa foolish to attempt it with the Ryles, he sympathized with the decision. The idea of the quartet bickering was standard enough, but Zanac¡¯s purported outburst at Renner was something else entirely. What had prompted this was indistinct and unclear, an acute mote of fog that refused to burn away in the daylight.

    She¡¯s a locked box though. Her eyes as a girl, the things they held, the way they looked at things. It¡¯s almost impossible to tell. I wonder if I could press him on that. Should I try?

    ¡°Something like that.¡±

    That sounds like an admission. I think I will try. Worth a gander, at least. Steer things, see if I can¡¯t get an answer. Something light, then push. What would- oh, literally the matter of ¡°light.¡± They¡¯ve gone to the guild for it, and then Renner lodged her own request for civil purposes. One of her typical acts of charity.

    ¡°So, I must ask, who¡¯s the pick to replace Jelka?¡±

    ¡°Why? Wanna slip another man into your pocket?¡±

    ¡°If I had traitors among the palace staff, I can assure you, Prince, they would be much finer assassins than the ones that your enemies had stationed.¡±

    The men were silent for a moment, before breaking into raucous laughter. The pair spent over a minute fitting, their cries dying for a time, before the sputtering suppression of one triggered a new riot from the other. Finally, the pair slowed, Raeven¡¯s lungs burning.

    ¡°I¡¯m warning you, Marquis. You try that joke with anyone else.¡±

    Zanac swept with his arm before cracking back into a snicker.

    I- I need to get back in order. In the name of all that is holy. Elias, why would you ever say something like that? Telling the prince I¡¯d have him killed. I¡¯ve peaked!

    ¡°Am I being tutted at?¡±

    ¡°By the Gods! Raeven. I- I can¡¯t have words¡±

    ¡°I must admit, that was taboo of me.¡±

    ¡°Taboo!? You¡¯d call that taboo!? You¡¯d be standing at the gallows with a rope ¡®round your neck and insist that you¡¯re having a ¡®mildly bad day,¡¯ probably as a result of that joke!¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ shit! You think!?¡±

    What was I doing again? Right. Renner.

    ¡°I try not to. Particularly in moments like this. No¡­ uh, right. The matter of the Defense Coordinator. It¡¯s gonna be Helgrave.¡±

    Raeven suddenly remembered that there was food, having lost that fact in the previous madness. He began loading his plate with the serving utensils, and despite his best efforts, struggled with the task. This was something typically left to the maids - or in this case, waitresses - though this meeting demanded privacy, and thus none were present. Raeven considered feeling embarrassed, though watching the second prince lag the same way assuaged his shame.

    ¡°It¡¯s been decided?¡±

    ¡°No, but there are no voices for Theiern; and to my knowledge, Helgrave has the backing of Vellen - at least tacitly.¡±

    ¡°What is Ro-Lante to do in the meantime?¡±

    ¡°Muddle along under Macnamara. Well, it''s not Jelka¡¯s absence that¡¯s the problem - plenty of people want the office and the handoff there will be clean - it¡¯s Ekhan¡¯s.¡±

    Ekhan¡­ who¡¯s Ekhan?

    ¡°I don''t know the name.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to. What do you know of our force composition?¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s the Royal Guard, whatever knights rotate through, Stronoff and company-.¡±

    ¡°And the palace professional guard.¡±

    ¡°You have guards from the city? The elite?¡±

    Raeven thought for a moment, pausing between words to take a large bite of veal. It was overcooked, something he found a minor travesty.

    The advantage is obvious. Knights have battlefield experience, but the palace isn¡¯t a battlefield. Intuition and perception are key here, and a seasoned veteran of the city streets would have that in droves. Same advantages as adventurers, but probably a lot cheaper.

    ¡°Indeed. You see the problem?¡±

    If they¡¯re guard, then they¡¯re low-blooded, and if they¡¯re out of the sight of the city commissars¡­

    Still struggling to masticate his mouthful, Raeven lodged it in the side of his cheek, and eked out a few words with his mouth covered.

    ¡°No formal command structure?¡±

    ¡°Three points to you, Marquis.¡±

    ¡°This¡­ Ekhan. He is¡­ older, more experienced?¡±

    ¡°He was.¡±

    Raeven finally swallowed, feeling both relieved and miffed. He sliced himself a much smaller piece, skewering it on his fork with a subtle annoyance.

    ¡°I see the problem. Is there a replacement?¡±

    ¡°No. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the whole unit dissolved.¡±

    ¡°No one with the charisma to hold it together?¡±

    ¡°Charisma, yes, but more like social capital, for lack of a better term. Do you-¡±

    ¡°I do, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Right. So, that gap is unfillable, but the rest should get patched over in due time.¡±

    ¡°What would that mean for your sister¡¯s bodyguard?¡± No, too forward.

    ¡°Do you know how Eight Fingers breached Ro-Lante? I¡¯ve heard rumors of secret passages.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t speak to that.¡±

    ¡°My apologies. Still, are you to make upgrades to your defenses?¡±

    ¡°Why? Are you looking to secure some contracts?¡±

    ¡°I thought we assumed that as a matter of course.¡±

    ¡°Beware those bringing ¡®mutual benefit.¡¯¡±

    He¡¯s downed two beers, and he still has his wits about him. How often does he get written off as a lush? That sort of trait is far better in a leader than temperance.

    ¡°Ouch! Now I¡¯m truly offended.¡±

    ¡°Any other complaints to lodge? In any case, we are conducting improvements.¡±

    My in.

    ¡°Such as the lighting.¡±

    Zanac paused, face freezing. Raeven felt plussed by the reaction, this only getting worse when the prince set down his fork, swallowed, and sat up straight in his chair.

    ¡°How did you know that?¡±

    Why is he so suddenly on the defensive? Reveal my source with a joke, surely that would defuse things.

    ¡°I have my friends in the Magicians Guild.¡±

    ¡°You learned this from them?¡±

    ¡°They purchase certain precursors from me, luminant slurry and the like. I tell you, the tallow makers won¡¯t be happy.¡±

    Zanac turned his head off to the left, muttering under his breath.

    ¡°A leak, then.¡±

    He¡¯s surprised by that? You can always loose the lips of an arcanist with talk of procurement. No, there¡¯s something I¡¯m missing.

    ¡°Did you think those wizards were locktight?¡±

    ¡°No, I mean we haven¡¯t approached the Magicians Guild yet.¡±

    What?! She did that of her own initiative?!

    Zanac side-eyed Raeven, who was himself still in shock.

    Wait, so she broke faith and reached out before anyone else, doing so without informing the rest of the house? Gods, that just makes things even more complicated, doesn''t it?

    ¡°House Vaiself hasn¡¯t, but your sister has.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s involved in this?!¡±

    ¡°Well, as I was to understand it, the palace had been in talks to finally replace its source of lighting.¡±

    ¡°We were going to approach them later this week. Still, she did?¡±

    ¡°I believe so, yes.¡±

    ¡°Typical of¡­ her.¡±

    He struggled to find words? How much vitriol does he have for her? He¡¯s not prone to the same sort of instabilities as his brother, is he? He might be. Struck by our dear future king-cross-calamity, and then lashed by the tongue of his greater brother? What could she have done to earn such hate? Perhaps there was something to her as a child.

    ¡°My contacts weren¡¯t very specific, I had assumed you were already in business.¡±

    ¡°Well, we should have been. Had we made the transition to magical light years ago, Gods know what we would have saved. Old superstitions rule too much of our policy - we don¡¯t even have a court wizard. Yeah, no, we haven¡¯t even gone to the guild yet.¡±

    ¡°I could always put in a word with-¡±

    ¡°Snake.¡±

    ¡°Undeserved! I ought to be offended.¡±

    ¡°In any case, why do you mention it?¡±

    ¡°She sent them a letter of inquest. Suffice it to say, it simply read of her style.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°The cost of furnishing lights for the entire city.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Well, thirty-thousand lights at high power luminance and another ten at low. There¡¯s really only one thing that could be.¡±

    ¡°What cost was she quoted?!¡±

    ¡°Something absurd. Three figures.¡±

    ¡°Trade-coin?¡±

    ¡°Trade-standards.¡±

    ¡°Gods! I didn¡¯t realize- What, what in damnation are we gonna end up spending on the palace?¡±

    ¡°Nothing near that, I imagine. Again, she was purchasing street lights. High intensity, durable, weather-resistant, minutia ad nauseum.¡±

    You have to not simply encase the luminant crystals in glass but grow them in it, I think, and that demands its own hot-shop. Though, that¡¯s only for civil applications.

    ¡°You mentioned another ten. Why the low power lights?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the part I couldn¡¯t figure out, I was hoping you knew.¡±

    ¡°Her whims are impossible to guess.¡±

    Raeven stayed silent, waiting. It was a simple trick, using the pressure of a gap in words to bait out further elaboration. Zanac didn¡¯t say a word; no quiver of the lips, nor slowly building tension to break with a flood of truth. Raeven was elated.

    He won¡¯t fall for that? That¡¯s wonderful. That¡¯s really quite wonderful. I¡¯ll drop the subject of Renner for now.

    ¡°Anyway, I figured I¡¯d let you know now. I imagine she¡¯ll make some grandstanding speech about the poorer city folk when your house moves to approach the guild.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right.¡±

    ¡°I imagine we¡¯ll find out as soon as she performs her next trick as per the plight of the commoners and how we as their dutiful and responsible lieges, landlords, and leeches must assist them in some cause. Of course, her proposal will be nothing but something supremely spendthrift that sounds wonderful to the peasantry and nothing more. What do you imagine the angle will be this time?¡±

    ¡°Something about street safety. I can imagine it in her voice. Thanks for the warning.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    The pair went silent for a time, instead focusing more thoroughly on their meals. Though the privacy was certainly welcome, Raeven felt the fare was substandard. Not only was the veal prepared poorly, so was the beef. He realized that this was the sort of establishment to decohere their patrons with cheap drink before robbing them blind with meals overpriced and overcooked. He took solace in his stout, the only pleasant thing set at the table. Zanac noticed the same problem, and as a solution, bisected a loaf along its length, only to fill it with thin slices of meat and cheese. Raeven took note, and did the same.

    ¡°You brought your adventurers with you? It¡¯s a decidedly ¡®House Raeven¡¯ practice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, just outside¡±

    ¡°How many?¡±

    ¡°Just two.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re joking about killing me?¡±

    ¡°That flagon could have been poisoned. No, I was going to get them something to eat.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and it¡¯s your sister who¡¯s overly charitable?¡±

    Zanac smiled weakly. It faded quickly, the upturned curl of his eyes drooping, as they wet and danced away.

    ¡°Raeven.¡±

    His tone was low, speaking in an uncertain timbre.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You care about this country, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Be honest.

    ¡°Yes. Deeply.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Raeven stopped, rolling over Zanac¡¯s question in his mouth. His first instinct was to say ¡®selfishness¡¯, though he was less than half the cynic required to answer like that. He cycled through a number of other possibilities, be they ¡®honor,¡¯ ¡®duty,¡¯ ¡®family,¡¯ ¡®enlightened self interest,¡¯ or otherwise; none fit him, and he doubted Zanac would accept any of such. Raeven simply surrendered.

    ¡°Your Highness, questions like that don¡¯t matter. Not really.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate being blown off, Marquis.¡±

    ¡°One either cares for their country, or they don¡¯t. A person can have reasons for it - or not; it doesn¡¯t mean a thing either way. A person cares, so they fight for it. They are good to their vassals, loyal to their liege, pay taxes, contribute levies and tithes¡­ Things like that. They do all those things, and irrespective of what they say or feel in their heart, irrespective of their honesty or their inner goodness, they¡¯re the sort of Lord we need.¡±

    Zanac lowered his head, speaking his next words so softly, Raeven strained to hear them.

    ¡°What about being an honest prince?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking of your brother?¡±

    Zanac responded not with words, but a stare. He peered at Raeven for a time, before turning away and covering his mouth with his hands. His eyes were wet.

    Not Barbro, yourself. What should I say? What could I say? He¡¯s torn, isn¡¯t he? He knows he must take the throne; that his brother is unfit. There¡¯s only one thing for it, then.

    ¡°Your Highness, you are not your brother.¡±

    So say we all.

    ¡ª

    Lakyus gently rapped the sides of her cup, brought it to her mouth, and drank. The friendship of a princess had a bevy of benefits, but of all the access she had to funds, finance, and fineries, teas were perhaps the best.

    How does she even get this stuff? I can¡¯t imagine what she pays. It¡¯s decadent.

    "You have a weariness about you.¡±

    Lakyus looked at her companion. Her poise and expression was the same as ever, though oddly her face had a lopsided look to it. Lakyus felt puzzled, and resolving her vision a little further, realized that Renner had left an errant stroke of eyeliner wandering round her right eye.

    "You do too."

    ¡°Eh? I do?¡±

    ¡°Your eyeliner.¡±

    Renner quickly scrambled her person, hands searching her dress and seat. She exhausted this, and with a little flutter of her eyes, turned to Climb with a slight decoherence.

    ¡°Run and get my pocket mirror, if you would. It¡¯s on my vanity, the organizer on the left.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°And you needn¡¯t call me that!¡±

    ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°No objections accepted!¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ princess.¡±

    Climb, who had already shot up on those orders, gave a stiff bow, before darting to the door to her bedroom room. He visibly struggled working up the courage to open it, though he did, and returned a moment later with the mirror in hand. Renner snatched it from his dexter with hers, flicked it open, peered in, and proceeded to pout. Slipping a napkin out from underneath her saucer, she delicately removed the offending line, then dejectedly tossed the soiled cloth back on the table. Lakyus found the ordeal somewhat off-putting, though she couldn¡¯t place her finger on why.

    ¡°I do apologize.¡±

    Why is she apologizing? Her appearance? I¡¯ve only seen that happen to her on the sixteenth and¡­ I guess that¡¯s it. Is something as wrong now as it was then?

    ¡°Your Highness- Renner, I couldn¡¯t care less. What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    A struggle played out on Renner¡¯s face, her eye twitching and her mouth fluttering. She lightly exhaled, before continuing.

    ¡°In truth, things have been less than well.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    "Oh, the usual."

    She sounds torn. Something is wrong.

    "Like what?"

    "Frightening revelations about the foundation of the kingdom; concerns of crown and country; unsealed gaps and pits every which way."

    "This from?"

    "Horrors buried in the numbers."

    High-bloods had many ways of dodging around questions they had no desire to answer. Nobles could find evasions, half-truths, and jinks for any scenario; the royalty elevated that skill into an art form, and Renner was adroit even among them. Lakyus was beginning to get annoyed.

    "I''m not going to get a straight answer out of you, am I?"

    "Ah. Sorry. I didn''t wish to burden you. You have a war to fight - you and your five woman army. Matters of Kingdom are my concern. You''re a hero of the age, Lakyus. Your talents are best spent-"

    "Hitting things with sharp sticks? Renner, I am a noblewoman."

    "Eh? No, my apologies, I hadn''t the intent to be so reductive!"

    I was too hostile. No, no¡­ Damn it all. I¡¯m way off-balance. Apologize? Something.

    "I''m joking."

    Ugh. That almost sounds worse.

    ¡°Oh. All correct then. Do you consider yourself one?"

    ¡°One of what?¡±

    ¡°A noblewoman. I know it was part of your upbringing, but are you not the very ideal of an adventurer?¡±

    A gamut of childhood events flashed through Lakyus''s mind: the preening done on her by her mother; her complete inability to remain clean for dinner; the obsession she had with her uncle. She had begged, then beseeched, then argued her case in full as to why she should be allowed to go on adventures with him. Azuth had always been indifferent to the matter, though her parents were anything but. This led to other things: her flight from home; the first skeleton she burned away on the spot; her first near brush with death; wrapping her hand around Kilineiram for the first time before she knew the curse it held. The recollection was brief, but conclusive. Lakyus had to cede the point.

    "That¡¯s not untrue, actually. I guess I¡¯ve never really seen myself as ¡®Lady Aindra¡¯. I have hero problems to deal with. You have-"

    ¡°Princess problems?¡±

    More like queen problems, though it''s not like I could tell her that. She''d act bashful before a "It''s not my place to rule," or something like that. I don¡¯t see why. She should be queen.   It¡¯s within my power to make her one. Put down Barbro and make the rest of her siblings cede their claims.   Gods, what am I thinking?

    ¡°Yes, exactly.¡±

    "I like that framing. And what of Climb? Stoic sentry problems?¡±

    "Valiant knight problems."

    ¡°Eh? Lakyus-¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra-¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t protest, Climb. She can get worse than me about this whole respect business.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Princess Renner.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re getting better at that too.¡±

    Valiant knight problems - a rotten joke. Teenagers in love? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re ever going to be together. She dotes on him, but to what end? He will never be elevated to knight. He will never hold property, never be a vassal of a local lord. The pair spend day after day with each other and yet they get nowhere. It''s pathetic. And now she¡¯s hiding things from me. She doesn¡¯t trust me. Or¡­ or something. Gods, I feel ill.

    "Renner, how bad is it?"

    "Things beyond reckoning, though I''m sure your stresses run deeper than mine."

    You are? She¡¯s seen through me, hasn¡¯t she? Or, maybe not, it¡¯s hard to tell. What sort of terrible friend am I, that she needs to hide this from me?

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    Renner looked at Lakyus closely, concern creeping into the edges of her eyes. Lakyus felt the need to squirm, something about her friend¡¯s worry feeling both unwelcome and undeserved at the same time. Renner sensed this discomfort, furtively breaking her gaze before reaching across the table and snatching up a bell. She held it in a way that Lakyus found comically dainty and flicked it, ringing coming both from it and out in the hall. A knock came at the door a moment later, then a maid entered with a platter stacked high with what appeared to be puff pastries. Climb jumped into action, shifting the kettle and saucers to make way for the maid, who set down the fare gently before leaving. Lakyus eyed them with a degree of caution.

    ¡°What are these?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve come to realize recently, Lakyus, that we have quite an adept baker in our service. A woman whom I will endeavor in every respect to make our head chef.¡±

    ¡°And these are hers?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, though they were made at my request. You see, Lakyus, we had a conversation - about half an hour long, actually. The deeper we got into it, the more I realized a chef is limited more by their ingredients than by their skills or equipment, and I got to thinking ¡®how do I ensure she makes the best puff pastry possible?¡¯¡±

    ¡°You going somewhere with this story, or am I just supposed to sit here and indulge you.¡±

    No, shut up, Lakyus. She¡¯s trying to be nice to you. Can¡¯t you see that?

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll cut to the point. The cream in these is mehturt¡¯s milk.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?!¡±

    How the- a mehturt? She made cream puff pastries from the milk of a magic heifer?! I¡¯ve never even seen one, much less run one down. How much did she pay-

    ¡°I hired a team - gold rank - to go out and get it for me.¡±

    An adventurer team?!

    ¡°Where?!¡±

    ¡°Tob.¡±

    ¡°You sent a gold rank team into tob?¡±

    Renner seemed to freeze for a moment, before her composure slipped.

    ¡°Was that bad? I was under the impression that your new contemporaries tamed it. ¡®Darkness,¡¯ as it were.¡±

    ¡°No, no. Not at all. I just- You put in that much effort into food?¡±

    ¡°I wanted a gift for you, I know things have been¡­ difficult. It¡¯s minor, but I wanted it for you and your fellows.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s response was instinctual and immediate.

    ¡°I can¡¯t accept this.¡±

    I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t accept. It¡¯s too much. It¡¯s too decadent. I feel ill.

    "Lakyus. I must say. I am quite disappointed in you."

    "What?"

    Gods, what does she mean? I feel ill.

    "Indeed. Have you not lied to me? At least, one of omission?"

    "What lie?"

    "The matter of Climb''s armor."

    What does this have to do with anything?

    "You¡¯re still hung up on that?"

    "Yes! House Vaiself is currently in talks with the magicians guild for procurement of magical light, and I had the presence of mind to inquire as to the cost of the work your crimson comrade is doing to it! Enchantments which she has couched in plenty of obscure terminology that I would be befuddled and confused by, but I, Lakyus, have come to learn that ''weaves of static and dynamic arcane fibers'' are what other magicians refer to as ''protection'' and ''strength!'' Turning round to the guild, I found out that even performing such alteration to a stock suit of full plate was expensive enough, but mithril makes that price spectacular.

    I was shocked at that, but then I had the sneaking suspicion that there was more hidden away in the armor itself.I thus inquired there, and found that, in total, you have rendered me thirty standards of materials, manufacture, and magecraft for free! So - and I mean this with complete and absolute certainty - you are never to refuse any of my gifts again, be they food, drink, or miscellaneous luxury, and you are to receive bundles such as this for the next thirty years! Do you understand, Lady Aindra?¡±

    "But-"

    "No objections whatsoever. I won''t hear of it!"

    "But mehturt¡¯s cream-"

    "Eat those soon or they''ll spoil."

    ¡°Are you tutting me like a child?¡±

    ¡°In point of fact, I am!¡±

    Lakyus tried to find a response, but couldn''t. Renner sipped her tea. Climb looked ready to explode, shaking with such energy that cheeks quivered. He shot out of his chair and gave Lakyus a deep bow, before plopping back down with a look of amazement on his face. Something in Renner¡¯s face hinted that she was not feeling catty, but sympathetic. Lakyus swallowed.

    "Fine."

    "Thank you. Now there¡¯s these, but I have about another fifty ready for you and your comrades. I paid the cost for some ice and the chest it goes in, you can keep them stored there, then heat them when desired. I¡¯ll provide instructions."

    ¡°Thank you. Thank you a lot, Renner.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Climb, you want one?¡±

    ¡°Uh-¡±

    ¡°Say yes.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Thank you, Lady Aindra.¡±

    Lakyus looked down at the platter; it was set with seven pastries, three small plates and a pair of tongs. Climb grabbed them, and began to serve Renner, who waved him off and pointed to Lakyus. She grabbed the plate from him, and after a moment¡¯s hesitation, took a bite. It was the best pastry Lakyus had ever tasted. Had she the language or the willpower to follow its flavor profile, she would have extolled it, but she felt completely unable to do so. The three ate in silence. With each mouthful she took, she felt the need to cry a little more.

    "You''re right. I am war-weary."

    "Talk. What''s wrong?"

    "Everything. Everything is wrong, Renner; everything is rotten. When we set out on this, I was worried you were going to back down first or hold us back. I remember thinking that your desire to handicap rather than vanquish them was foolish and short-sighted, but their numbers¡­ They are so many! Gangs on every block in every poor district of every city. We have perhaps claimed a total in the hundreds, and yet they number a hundred times that. It''s frightening. It¡¯s so frightening. The damage. That supply depot you had us strike: room after room filled top to bottom with reagents and salts. How much would that have made? How many Laira fields would they have to sustain such an expanse? So many lost to dust, willing to give away everything for another high. Extortion and excursions and these endless economics engines. How much money does that bring in? I want to eradicate them, Renner. I wish I could go door to door and- and-¡±

    Gut them. Pincushion them and rip them apart. Gore the lot of them. Slake my blade on every one I could and¡­    and¡­ Gods, what am I saying? This sword. What am I to do with it? Every single day, it rings stronger in my mind. How do I walk this line? I ought to pray. Do I ask her? No, I¡¯ll do it after. He of the Still Mere, please forgive me for my sloth.

    ¡°Sorry. Sorry. I let myself get carried away.¡±

    ¡°Could I perhaps speak?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Maybe you can make sense of this.¡±

    "We''re winning, Lakyus; we''re truly winning. The direct destruction of capital, be it in waylaid manpower or razed stockpiles has been significant, but I doubt they account for a fifth of what you¡¯ve done. What they''ve been forced to spend fighting us, forcing them into extra guard shifts, purges by and of internal security. Of the higher ups - captains, section bosses, et cetera - the death toll is in the dozens. You¡¯ve heard word of iron prices crashing, yes? Do you know why that was?"

    ¡°I have, and no, I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°A complete liquidity crisis on the part of our enemies. I created a fuller figure of the Black Night, Lakyus, of its preparation. Our enemies were in deep, unbound spending.¡±

    I don¡¯t get the connection.

    Lakyus cocked her head tiredly, Renner pulling in a sharp breath, then sheepishly doing the same.

    ¡°Sorry, I ran ahead of you. Um¡­ The reformists - Narcotics, though Slavery plays a small part - had already waged the vast majority of their resources on the Black Night, this on the gamble they would be flush with cash from the royal treasury afterwards. That didn¡¯t happen; instead, they lost and were forced to take loans from the shattered wreck of the Banking division. This strained the entire system, including the above-board depositories of the Merchants Guild, with front-men withdrawing whatever they could from guild accounts and depositing it into the Eight Fingers network - this to take advantage of the high interest rates that other divisions were forcing on Narcotics. The amount of onhand metal that the guild has rightful access to dropped seventy-seven percent in the course of fifteen days- er, both of you, please don''t speak of that outside this room; we can¡¯t handle a bank run.¡±

    ¡°Er, yes, of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    I have no clue what she means. She seems to manage so much. I don¡¯t want to drag on her. Not now.

    ¡°They could have stabilized with the incoming harvests and start to turn a profit - well, they were already running at a loss but that¡¯s an aside - but they need materials to process Laira at scale. Capital that you destroyed a week ago, at least for this region.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t they just send cured Laira bulbs to dens instead?¡±

    ¡°What they can¡¯t immediately process, but they don¡¯t have the cart space for direct transit to all cities. Short runs from fields to facilities, yes, but the refining process is a lynchpin component. Black Dust is potent - more captivating of the mind than Laira - but that alone doesn¡¯t justify the cost to actually refine it; they are only ever so slightly in the money on that, at least to start. The advantage comes from everywhere else: what would take ten wagons now takes one for the same gross revenue, the ease of hiding that from inspectors; what loses strength after only a few months now lasts for up to a year, even in dry conditions; what needs to be sold and smoked in dens can now be hidden in a coat pocket - sold on the street. You are a pox upon them.¡±

    ¡°A pox? It¡¯s not like we¡¯re killing them faster than they can be replaced.¡±

    We aren¡¯t keeping up. It¡¯s frustrating. How are we supposed to win? It doesn¡¯t make sense to me.

    ¡°The bodies do not matter, at least most don¡¯t. Eight Fingers numbers as large as four imperial legions, yet they are not knights, Lakyus. The vast majority are paupers, village ruffians or slum gangs. Some crawl up as street soldiers or enforcers, but only some. They would exist irrespective of masters holding their reigns, yoked by the current course of king and country. We have fought a war of the warren and wabe, yet it¡¯s the well-to-do dwellings that have taken the largest brunt of our war. The experienced wetworkers you¡¯ve taken are significant, but it is the leadership that matters most, and we¡¯re so close to tracking them down.¡±

    ¡°How close, Renner? I need to know. I need to know when we can end this. This fight has been too long, and too hard. It feels like we¡¯ve made no progress at all. I haven¡¯t had a full-night¡¯s rest in a week. I can¡¯t-¡±

    Do I tell her about the monster I carry by my side? That emptiness I bring with me everywhere I go? The things I see it in, the things it wants me to do.

    Lakyus shot up out of her chair.

    ¡°I can¡¯t stop thinking about this. I have nightmares. If I die, catch a stray bolt or a dozen, won¡¯t everything return to normal for them?¡±

    ¡°Morbid realities are morbid realities, but we''ve made progress - we¡¯ve made stunning progress. Our tracers are in place. It¡¯s only a matter of time before internal turmoil forces one of them to run. Chasing whom takes flight is difficult, but their pursuers are another matter. We¡¯ll slake ourselves on one then. If you stood outside at the beginning of this war and looked west at dusk, you could see them lurking just o''er the horizon, silhouetted deep in the fairfield. Now, Lakyus, we¡¯re close enough to smell their breath. We¡®re going to win.¡±

    Renner rose out of her chair, and steadily walked around the table. Bringing her arms around Lakyus, she squeezed. Lakyus shook slightly, before wrapping her arms around Renner in twain. Renner pulled in close, bringing her mouth next to Lakyus¡¯s ear, whispering.

    ¡°I need you to win.¡±

    Lakyus pulled back, only leaving her dexter hand intertwined. She met Renner¡¯s eyes and nodded.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (12)

    In Hayla Bornbrook¡¯s assessment, birthdays, by virtue of coming only once a year, were a thing to celebrate. As the cart slowed and jerked to a complete stop, she knew the best part of their evening was upon them.

    We¡¯re here. Oh, this will be perfect. Days like this ought to be lavish, entirely impractical, and wholly absurd.

    All of this was a relatively new realization, brought on by her chance attendance at the ball held for Her Highness Renner. The proceedings - though modest when compared to the grander balls that normally accompanied the changing of the seasons - struck Hayla as positively sublime, and induced her to do something for her daughter Yilere. A proper ball was out of the question - her husband was scrimping and saving to host one for the winter solstice - but a night out was perfectly possible. Thus had Hayla, her daughter, and family friends Baronnesses Illiana and Poment all hopped in a carriage and alighted from their demesnes to travel to Re-Robel for a day of shopping, exquisite meals, and as Yilere was herself turning fourteen, her first taste of Laira.

    ¡°Girls, as the Imperials say, carpe diem.¡±

    The door to the cart opened, the driver having dismounted to bid them out. Yilere looked at her mother expectantly, only for Hayla to gently smile and gesture for her to go first. They all stepped out into the night, the street lights and fog blown in from the sea conspiring to halo the quartet in a gentle haze. Hayla turned and found their destination, a chic little Laira den cross smoking lounge she had made a point of visiting every time she went to the city. It was discrete, windows shuttered and sign nondescript. The doorman spotted them, greeting them as they approached.

    ¡°Ladies, are you here for our smoke lounge or for our other services?¡±

    ¡°Other services.¡±

    ¡°And all four of you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s my wonderful Yilere¡¯s fourteenth birthday.¡±

    ¡°Mother¡­¡±

    Yilere nudged her, embarrassed. Hayla went for a cheek grab in response, wrapping her arm around her daughter and pulling her abreast as she did so.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be glad to host the rest of your jubilations. Though, there is an unpleasant matter.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Ladies, my deepest apologies, but, I regret to inform you that the price of admission has unfortunately increased.¡±

    Oh this is a right shame. We hopefully still have the money for it.

    ¡°How much?¡±

    ¡°My lugubriousness on this cannot be overstated. It¡¯s been increased from a silver standard to a full gold coin per person.¡±

    Ten-percent? That¡¯s it? And he¡¯s groveling like that? This poor man must have been blasted straight to damnation and back by the last patron.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfectly acceptable. The usual? I¡¯ll need an inkwell.¡±

    ¡°We would prefer if you did the transaction in metal this time.¡±

    Ah, they need coin. Finance trouble. I¡¯ll mention this to Grant. He¡¯ll eat it right up.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfectly fine. Four gold, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that would work perfectly.¡±

    Or perhaps issues with the law? There are rumors of specters haunting the trade. Ah, no matter. This is her night.

    Hayla dug through her handbag, quickly finding and grabbing a handful of coinage. She dropped them in the hands of the doorman, who then bowed, stepped over to open the door and bid them in. Hayla turned to her fellows.

    ¡°Come, darlings. Let¡¯s lose a night together!¡±

    ¡ª

    Jared Parh looked at the parchment that had just been slid over to him. He decided then that this was the worst day of his life.

    ¡°And that¡¯s it - at least there about. I have the remainder of your account balance right here: three gold, eighty-eight silver, and twelve copper. I just need you to sign here.¡±

    The experience was surreal. A month prior, he¡¯d had his best night yet, moving over four hundred patrons through his tavern in the course of a single evening. Anything that fattened his pockets was cause for celebration, but this was something special, and he decided to get thoroughly drunk and throw money at the local cockfighting ring; when he woke up the next day, he decided to do it again. What followed was a weeks-long bender; He had won and lost pittances, then fortunes, then pittances again, first in E-Naru, then in Re-Illisian, and finally in Re-Robel.

    What the fuck was I thinking?

    The dates were indistinct, but he had at some point slipped from the black into the red, and after a night of particularly disastrous dice and ill-advised lines of credit, he was thrown to his knees in a back alley with a blade placed inside his open mouth by men demanding repayment ¡®or else.¡® So went the tavern, though only half the proceeds from its sale were necessary to repay his debt; what remained was enough to purchase an establishment in a smaller town and once again become a proprietor. Jared had instead chosen to go back to the tables in the hopes that he would win big, repurchase his tavern, and gain the wealth and influence he deserved. This did not happen. Instead, he was now at the Higara Exchange staring at a form to sever his ties with the Merchants Guild, close out his account with its bank, and formally disincorporate his business.

    At least I had the sense to sober up and do this, instead of taking out another loan.

    The clerk snapped him from his recollection.

    ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°I need you to sign here.¡±

    ¡°I um- I have a seal.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course.¡±

    The clerk gestured to the candlelit wax melter to his right. Jared looked, finding that it was empty. He lagged for a moment, before turning back to the clerk, who was himself looking at Jared expectantly.

    ¡°Were you going to seal, sir?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any wax.¡±

    ¡°Oh! We sell bars of wax for five silver pieces, ten for specialty colors. Would you be interested in trying some of our new lapis lazuli formulation? It¡¯s quite the verdant blue, bound to make any business communiqu¨¦ or contract quite stunning.¡±

    Jared stared at the clerk dumbly.

    ¡°No. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll just sign.¡±

    Jared did just that, and the world seemed to blur. He reached out and swept the remainder of his life savings into a coin purse before turning ¡®round and wandering off. He left Higara in a daze and stepped out into the night feeling directionless and hollow. He decided then that being sober was a mistake, one he ought to fix as soon as possible. It wasn¡¯t hard to find a dealer, one lurked right outside the hall for men just like him. He was in fine dress, but Jared had an intuition for such things. He walked over and greeted the man curtly.

    ¡°You got dark?¡±

    ¡°I got everything. Elf, Dark, Anvil-Dust, Pipe-Weed, Morning-Breath-¡±

    ¡°Morning-breath.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the stuff. Prices are a bit higher this week. Ten silvers per aurum.¡±

    ¡°How ¡®bout eighty-eight and change for nine.¡±

    ¡°Done.¡±

    The men shook hands, Jared feeling relief at his lack of shame.

    ¡ª

    The thunk of a crate broke the silence of the night, though Gerald struggled to hear it through the pounding of his heart. Turning around, he walked back across the pier and halfway up the gangplank before he heard his supervisor shout at him.

    ¡°Ger! Ger! The ship is empty. We¡¯re done for the night. Come get your pay.¡±

    Gerald stopped, half waving his hand as acknowledgment. He faced the sky, breathing heavily as he felt the gentle rise and fall of the boat. He spent a minute just like that, resting, letting his pulse fall and the sweat roll off of him. Eventually he turned, disembarked back onto the docks and wandered over to the foreman. There was a line, each man being doled out their pay for the day''s labor. Gerald got at the back, slowly working his way up to the front as each man was hailed, paid out, and dismissed. Upon reaching the front, he held out his hand for payment.

    ¡°Ger, eight, plus another five for the overtime. One coin reserved for the guild. You did good work today.¡±

    Twelve? A whole twelve?

    Gerald silently accepted, catching the coins with his palm, before walking off. As exhausted as he was, he felt little but happiness. The pay was stellar, more than any job he had held in the pace; guildwork was safe, secure, and lucrative. Slipping the money into his pocket, he looked round, considering what he wanted to do for the night.

    Gonna get my family a meal, a nice one. Some meat skewers, fried potatoes, honeyed apples, maybe some milk if they have any. All that should come out to about four silver pieces. And- and maybe some dust for myself, something to help my back after all this. Barely have any left.

    Reassured as to his course of action, he turned round, finding a friend leaning against the warehouse they had spent the night loading. Gerald approached him.

    ¡°Gerald.¡±

    ¡°Alec.¡±

    ¡°I just hate warm days like this. Hate working in heat.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s summer, what do you expect?¡±

    ¡°I hate working in summer.¡±

    ¡°And if it''s cold.¡±

    ¡°Hate working in winter, too.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you just hate working.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t we all?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, ain¡¯t that the truth. Hey, look, you got any more of that stuff?¡±

    ¡°You want some Forge Scale?¡±

    ¡°Forge Scale?¡±

    ¡°Forge Scale, Dark, Bliss-Ash, Black Dust-¡±

    ¡°Black Dust, that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you wanna call it. Anyway, what do you want?¡±

    ¡°Two aurums.¡±

    ¡°I got you. That¡¯ll be ten silver.¡±

    ¡°Ten?! What?!¡±

    ¡°Prices are going up. It¡¯s five per aurum now.¡±

    ¡°But still, ten?!¡±

    ¡°Yes, five for an aurum.¡±

    ¡°It was three last week.¡±

    ¡°That was last week.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon man, this isn¡¯t fair! I need this stuff, I haven¡¯t gotten a hit in over a week.¡±

    ¡°I just saw you get the money. You want it or not?¡±

    Gerald seized, waffling in his mind. He was roiling, filled with senses of duty to his family, the want to provide for them, and the deep desire to be a good husband and a better father; all that versus the itch creeping back into the edges of his consciousness.

    Maybe- maybe I¡¯ll skip the honeyed apples tonight.

    Gerald thought for a moment longer, then nodded in sheepish acceptance.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡ª

    He was shaking, doing his best to put one foot in front of the other. His last hit was two weeks ago. He struggled to pull in a full breath, his chest refusing to obey his mind¡¯s command. His last hit was two weeks ago. His legs suddenly fell out from under him, sending him careening to the ground. His last hit was two weeks ago. His last hit was two weeks ago. He emptied his stomach¡¯s contents into the grass, the smell melding with that of the petrichor. His last hit was two weeks ago. The bile was foul, yet clear. He had not eaten breakfast. He did not remember the last time he had eaten breakfast. He could barely remember his own name.

    Get up, Edward! Get up! Get up! Get up damn you!

    He fought his way up, first splaying out an arm, before raising himself onto his knees; then, his feet. The midsommar symphony of rural insects filled the dawn, his home village of Horbal caught in the wavering rays of the day¡¯s yearling call. The beauty was completely lost on him. He needed to get to his dealer.

    How far am I?

    Leveling his head and straining his eyes to keep them open, he spotted a daub dwelling but ten paces away; he blinked, realizing that he had already made it. Shambling forward, he rounded the entrance, the door kept open to abate the heat of the day. His dealer, Reynolds, was standing in the front room preparing for the day to come when he spotted Edward stumbling in.

    ¡°He of the Smoldering Stump, you look like shit! Did you take a fall or something? You have vomit all over your shirt.¡±

    Tell him you need a quarter.

    ¡°Q-q-q¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Qu-qua-qua-¡±

    ¡°Quarter aurum? You want a quarter aurum? That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°Y-y-ye-ye.¡±

    ¡°Twelve copper-¡±

    What?! I only have nine!

    ¡°You sa- sa- s- y-you said last week that it would be ei-eigh-eight. Why twel-twe¡­ twelve?¡±

    ¡°Prices are up.¡±

    ¡°You f-fucking liar!¡±

    ¡°Prices are up! What do you want from me?! Look, they charged me a lot this time.¡±

    ¡°Th-then give me everything you can.  An- an-¡±

    ¡°Come on man, you expect me to sell you an eighth? That¡¯s what you''re getting for eight copper.¡±

    ¡°G-giv-give me it!¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡±

    Reynolds dug into his pockets, retrieving a small satchel tied at the end with twine. Edward eagerly took a step forward, losing his balance as he did so. He toppled both himself and Reynolds, sending the pair to the ground as the copper pieces in his hands scattered against the floor. The bag of Black Dust struck the ground, a little puff of its contents escaping as Edwards greedily snatched it up. He fumbled in his pockets for his pipe, finding it in his left. He grabbed it, and as Reynolds cursed him out for his clumsiness, finally stuffed it and prepared to smoke.

    ¡ª

    Hilma stretched languidly in her chair, drawing her arms as high as she could above her head before letting them slump over the back of her chair. This would have been fine, except she had been holding her pipe as she did so; its mouthpiece poked the flesh of her other arm and sprung out of her hand, only to clatter to the ground in a comical bout of dexteral incompetence, prompting Ampetif Doll, who was sat across her desk painting his nails, to raise an eyebrow. She let her head fall backward in defeat, looking up from her chair to trace the subtle lines embossed in the copper shielding above.

    ¡°Cocco. My life is falling apart.¡±

    Two months ago, had she been asked to describe what had been done to the Narcotics Division by the Blue Roses, she would have used the word ¡°damage.¡± After the Black Night, she would have described it as ¡°devastation.¡± The last week made her suspect that her answer would soon change to ¡°destruction.¡± The inflow of coin was nearly nonexistent, and every aspect of her operation, be it growing Laira, processing it or distributing it, was under constant threat. Price raises had provided a minor reversal in revenue, but with the continual specter of that five-woman group hanging over her, she doubted it would last long.

    What the fuck am I going to do?

    ¡°You want some boys? Got some new product in from the Empire, some exotic skin tones. Would you believe that there is a race of men whose origins lie farther south than the Draconic Kingdom and which have flesh tones darker than the Warrior Captain¡¯s? I pulled him out of the usual rotation as soon as I saw him; he¡¯s quite stunning.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the offer, but no.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself, though, I do have an elf for you if you want it.¡±

    Hilma snapped forward in her chair, bringing her head down to look at Cocco Doll again.

    ¡°Wait, seriously? How?¡±

    ¡°Elves are quite dexterous, double jointed. You¡¯d be surprised at how small the boxes you can fit them in are. A caravan bearing slaves in barrels marked brine managed to slip right across the border into Corelyn county and reached my distribution network. I think I¡¯ll make quite a killing with them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to give me an elf slave for free?¡±

    ¡°The elf? No, not free, but half price.¡±

    An elf? I¡¯ve always wanted one. Something about the sharp cuts of their faces. Keep a slave like that in the house, train them to be a housekeeper, and I¡¯ll have a loyal servant for life. Well, provided they were processed properly. Don¡¯t want to get stabbed in the middle of the night by  a fucking knife-ear.

    ¡°As good as it sounds, I decline. Only fools run to their vices in times of crisis.¡±

    The problem is that they stay young forever - at least as long as I¡¯m kicking - so they¡¯ll never be- wait, can I get an older one? Do middle aged elves even get captured as slaves? Probably, but they¡¯d be a bitch to break, and it''s not like any family that¡¯s actually had one for a few hundred years will give it up to me.

    ¡°That much I agree with. So, Hilma, what are you going to do?¡±

    Hilma spent a moment processing his words, and when she finished internalizing them, felt nothing but ire. Cocco Doll was pressing for information, faking concern to draw out critical intelligence about her division¡¯s stability, its place in the council, and the validity of her challenge for the head seat. This was nothing out of the ordinary, the pair having wordlessly come to an understanding that their pleasantries were purely mercenary, but his attempt to wrench answers from her this time was laughable. He was playing at something as divisional heads were wont to, but he was doing so badly, and that was enough to sour the moment for her.

    He seriously thinks he¡¯s going to bait me with the offer of a half-price slave? One he¡¯s had his mitts on? I might as well cut out the middleman and just commit suicide on the spot. How little does he think of me? I don¡¯t have a fucking death wish.

    ¡°Get out.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Did I stutter? Get out. I don¡¯t need your carionism in a moment like this.¡±

    Cocco Doll lurched for a moment, then sneered.

    ¡°Getting a little pissy on our period, are we?¡±

    ¡°What? The fuck are you- y¡¯know what, nevermind. Get out of my fucking office, you freak.¡±

    Cocco Doll shot a rude gesture before leaving his chair and exiting the room, slamming the door as he did. A moment later, it reopened, her door guard peaking in with a quizzical look on his face. Hilma waved him off, finding no need to have Cocco Doll harried to the exit. The door closed again, more gently this time, leaving her in silence.

    Asshole.

    She sighed, before turning around to retrieve her pipe from the floor and pinch up the spilt tobacco. Wiping it down, she replaced and relit its contents, pulling in a breath and tasting it.

    What am I going to do? What can I do?

    Hilma thought for a moment, before pushing her chair back slightly and opening the front drawer to her desk. Finding a stack of vellum, she drew off three sheets, then found and removed a small rack filled with vials of pigmented ink and a number of fresh quills. Setting that on her desktop, she closed the drawer, and drew her chair forward again.

    Reframe the problem. What¡¯s actually at issue here?

    She laid out one of the pieces of vellum, then removed the stoppers from two vials of ink: one red, one blue. Dropping fresh quills into each, she let them wet, before withdrawing them and beginning to draft. It was a technique she had picked up years prior when she had just wrestled control of the division from Garland Echeart, something she needed to make sense of the production process for Black Dust. Connecting boxed words with colored lines had helped her learn the inflow of crops and their components, alchemical precursors, mundane ingredients, and the outflow of byproducts and waste. Now, she put those skills to use in determining exactly how and why she was losing.

    Two things: the ability of my enemy to locate targets, and the ability of my enemy to successfully assault those targets. Those things operate in a loop: intelligence as to the location and composition of targets is received and deciphered, an attack is launched on said location and then intelligence is yielded from investigation of the site and interrogation of prisoners. I am unable to reasonably interrupt the processing of said intelligence, but its generation?

    She drew a line down the center of her page, bisecting it. She began filling in the left half, writing every possible way she thought her enemies could acquire information from her; then on the right, every potential solution to the leaks. Some things were feasible - increasing compartmentalization of information or otherwise tightening patrols - but most everything came down to one point.

    How do I fight the Blue Roses?

    This was a question she had asked herself again and again, and yet she felt no closer to finding an answer than she was three months ago.

    Whom do I hire? Security division teams? Maybe as support, but they can¡¯t do jack shit when it comes to actually solving this problem. Six arms is a lost cause. They couldn¡¯t kill Gazef in a six verses one fight, stripped his equipment, in a surprise attack, boxxed in a fucking allyway, after a night of merryment and drinking; I don¡¯t see how they¡¯re supposed to take a six versus five fight against a fully equipped and prepared team made of people who have killed hundreds in the last three months with a consistent streak of victories. The Death Spreading Brigade was up and pasted by a vampire, however the fuck that happened, and it¡¯s not like any other bands of such calliber exist in-country. Imperial workers? Maybe, but the language barrier makes it hard, and I¡¯m not about to expose myself just to serve as a translator.

    She flipped over the page, dividing it into five boxes.

    The five of them all have their own challenges; the crusader, the brute, the twins, and the witch. Lakyus is the team priestess, so in an ideal engagement you would down her first, but she wields Kilineiram which can purportedly attack at range, and she has those floating blades of hers; it¡¯s not like we¡¯re in the possession of Sfiez or something to level the game - and that armor too. It¡¯s like- ah, shit.

    Hilma sighed, stared indecisively at her page and scratched out what she had written.

    There¡¯s no point in going line by line here for all of them. It doesn¡¯t matter what I think. All of them are chiseled veterans of adventuring, and now they¡¯re all chiseled veterans of this war; each is stupendously dangerous, equipped out the ass with magical trinkets, weapons, armors; each is extensively experienced in their craft. If I¡¯m not mistaken, that Aindra has spent almost half her life in the trade, and she may be the least seasoned of the bunch. Do I even fight them?

    Perhaps I don¡¯t confront them directly - if ever - but the heat on my operation is insane. I need to get them off my back somehow, even if just for a time. How would I do that? Deterrence? I don¡¯t see what I could do to deter them besides perhaps taking hostages, but besides that putting a massive target on my back, who the fuck would I kidnap? Considering Aindra¡¯s uncle is also an adamantite adventurer, no one - I don¡¯t have a death wish. Does the brute even have a family or did she just come into being one day like an elemental, ready to fuck anything that walks? The Twins and Evileye I know the least about - no names, much less family ones; all three are completely impenetrable.

    There¡¯s no way to prevent them from attacking and winning, but perhaps I can lead them elsewhere. Perhaps I provide them with an easier target. Give them leads to the smaller crop fields. No, they wouldn¡¯t go for it. At this point, they¡¯re addicted to large victories, warehouses razed or committed to the soil.

    The last month had vastly changed Hilma¡¯s perception of her enemy, not for what retaliations came against her, but those that didn¡¯t. Her conviction that there was no mole in Eight Fingers, but rather an external intelligence arm to her enemy, had driven her into rapid action. Lakyus¡¯s visits to the palace under cover of meeting the princess, as well as the tacit approval of Eight Fingers by both the Empire and the Theocracy seemed to point to only one thing: the nightmare scenario of the Blue Roses collaborating with the Butcher of the Mist, Knight Marshal Theiern. This had spurred her to act as violently as she did on the night of the sixteenth, a desperate gamble to get in close and slake herself on him. He did not die, and she cringed, bracing for retributions on the part of his men.

    I don¡¯t lead them to my own, I lead them to others. Create notes that implicate other divisions, leave them on site. Write about valuable targets in letters, false accounts and the like; when discovered, that should lure them away. All that does is create time. Time to do what? Hilma, you won¡¯t end this with a waiting move. Accept it, if you can¡¯t fight them off, your division will burn down over your head. Of course, this is to say nothing about their sixth member.

    Then, none came from Theiern; no assaults on convoys, no raided gambling halls, no razed warehouses; every attack could be traced back to the Blue Roses. Hilma was at once relieved and concerned; her opponent was less numerous than she thought, yet remained an unknown quantity. This had renewed that same question in her mind: whom, exactly, were the Blue Roses collaborating with?

    It can¡¯t be more than one or two people, can it? I¡¯ve heard no word about this at all, no gossip coming from the maid''s gaggles, nothing at all. Any large organization would have shown some sign by now, some telltale sign. It¡¯s someone they meet, someone with deep pockets and a detailed knowledge of tradecraft. Perhaps a small circle of associates. I haven¡¯t run afoul of Slane, have I? Agh, this is impossible.

    Hilma dropped her quills back in their wells, setting her elbow on the table and using her hand to brace her head. She was exhausted. She was scared. Things she had slowly and painfully acquired over years - capital be it in coin or in company, bondsmen by will or by blackmail, influence on the council - were all burning away before her eyes. Hilma was terrified.

    How do I end this? If I somehow crush the Blue Roses, their sixth member will simply acquire someone else to continue their work. Another adventurer team, Red Drop, or even an Imperial band. If I, by luck, find and end their sixth, the Blue Roses will continue to acquire targets on their own with redoubled ferocity. I need to solve both problems at once.

    Hilma grabbed a fresh page, then reached around blindly, running her fingers along the spines of books behind her until she found the one she wanted. Pinching, she swiftly withdrew the tome from its place on her shelf, and swung it round onto her desk before it could slip from her grip. It flopped down with a thump, one of her most dangerous and illegal possessions, a copy of the Imperial War College instructor''s manual ¡°Battlefield Tactics, Twenty-first Edition.¡± Being found in possession of one when not an Imperial Academy instructor carried a sentence of enslavement without future emancipation, and for the leaker was a capital offense. She owned the last six editions, as well as the thirteenth edition.

    Line by line then: Lakyus, Cleric of Elydro so she can provide healing and support, can effectively engage in close-quarters via sword, short range with Kilineiram¡¯s curse, and medium range with her floating blades; Gagaran, can only engage in close quarters but has long reach; the twin killers, nothing definite but presumably close quarters only as well, maybe they have access to thrown weapons or crossbows; Evileye, based on reports from Six Arms, can engage without line of sight at unlimited range and everything in between, get in close and she¡¯s dead.

    The gap in her ownership had been an honest mistake. Once only updated every two or so decades, their release had become an annual affair under the Nix Dynasty. She had assumed this to be an excess of his propaganda, opting only to smuggle out a copy of the thirteenth edition. As luck would have it, she had a chance encounter with the sixteenth, and upon reading, found its contents to be wholly unrecognizable. She now went out of her way to acquire each update to the books, each filled with innumerable changes: hard counters being found to tactics formerly thought surefire, theory crafting from one year panning out into entire domains of battlefield thought by the next, and hints of future innovation leaking from the Ministry of Magic. It was an invaluable tool, one she held in reserve for moments like this.

    They cover each other''s weaknesses too well, I would need to strip them off and isolate them - kill them one by one. Gagaran would be the easiest target, and perhaps I could catch the twins in a trap. I get them stuck at the wrong end of a battlement filled with crossbowmen or a spell battery, that should be all I need. I¡¯d need a killzone.

    Hilma flipped open the tactics manual, skipping sections one after another, before slowing to search page by page. The last few editions had begun to include tactics on fighting "mixed-composition lances," a barely disguised euphemism for worker teams. Of note to Hilma were the case studies, exhaustive combat reports of actual Imperial Legion engagements with the names, locations, and unit designations censored. The consensus was simple.

    Wide space, long engagement distance, multiple angles of attack, cover for those angles, inability to breach or bypass those lines, anti-air to deal with the red-runt. Problem is, they''re smart enough to not door-knock. They need to go into this unprepared, or perhaps underprepared. Ah, I''m not going to figure this out now, are I? That¡¯s fine. I¡¯m giving myself time; time to hunt the mastermind and time to destroy the Blue Roses. Sounds simple when I put it like that. I can plan the details while I breathe. Now, the question becomes, what locations to leak?

    Hilma paused, nervously tapping her quill against the page, leaving an inkblot. A realization came. She clicked her tongue, snatched and binned the two marked pages, pulling a key stuffed in her corset as she did so and unlocking her drawer. Drawing out the book on cryptography, she opened it, pushed aside the tactics manual, shuffled around the last remaining sheet of vellum, and began to write.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (13)

    Minus four. Or¡­ is it minus three? Shit. No, wait, recount.

    Zanac re-tallied his cards, his thoughts sputtering and dying halfway through his hand. He couldn¡¯t retrace the game, his memories trailing off into middling impressions by the fourth round of play. Raeven was leading, and would sweep their best of five with one more win.

    ¡°Are you going to play or-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll play! I¡¯ll play¡­¡±

    I have a mithril lance in hand¡­ and a two-stack. What¡¯s on the field? One, four, and a¡­ No, he has to have a three in hand. Could I pull a five off top-deck? I¡¯ll get a draw, and I can burn the lance if I need a second chance.

    ¡°Your Highness-¡±

    ¡°Keep waiting.¡±

    Shit. No, I¡¯m minus three. If he has a six in hand, I¡¯ll get dismounted. I can¡¯t draw a five then a seven. What¡¯s the field card? An eight? That¡¯s fine, I need the flexibility.

    ¡°I¡¯m waiting.¡±

    ¡°  And you¡¯ll keep waiting as long as I damn well please!  ¡±

    What if I lance? I don¡¯t have any support. No shield, no mare, no helm. Play the lance.

    ¡°Lance, mithril.¡±

    Raeven licked his lips, splitting off just over half his hand and laying the cards out.

    ¡°Iron mare, deadeye, burn a copper lance to change stance.¡±

    Zanac looked in stunned silence at the three cards Raeven had just set down, trying to figure out the play. Opening his mouth to object, he suddenly hung, realizing that between the order of execution and the edge case function of the cards, Raeven¡¯s play was perfectly legal. This was too much for him, dropping his head in capitulation and tossing away his hand. Raeven had too much tact to gloat openly, simply sweeping up the loose cards and shuffling them back into the deck. Zanac languished, at once stunned and impressed at how thoroughly the Marquis had separated him from his coin. He had never met a better ¡®Joust¡¯ player in his life.

    ¡°You¡¯re vicious at this game.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my vice. I have been booted out of the table in every single merchant exchange.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?!¡±

    ¡°Every single one. I consider it quite the achievement.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say. Which one was the hardest?¡±

    ¡°Higara, followed by Yirel.¡±

    Yirel makes sense - all the Drell do is wager their drinking money and die - but Higara?

    ¡°Really? Higara? I don¡¯t really associate E-Pespel with good gamblers.¡±

    ¡°Ship captains from Robel. All they do is play when underway. Dauntless, impossible to bluff-¡±

    ¡°Hold their liquor.¡±

    ¡°That, too.¡±

    The pair were in a gameroom, spacious despite it containing only one table. The windows were wide, casting the lawn of Raeven''s city manor in beautiful relief. It couldn¡¯t compare to the lawn of Valencia, though it did have quite the befuddling water feature: a fountain that sprayed not in a static stream, but in a swirling pattern. Zanac had found himself continually caught by the thing, looking out the window and pondering how it worked.

    That thing has to be running on magic. How much did he even pay for it? Well, with how he plays this, I¡¯m sure coin is no object.

    ¡°Raeven, Let me in on your secret.¡±

    ¡°You know the counting logic, yes?¡±

    ¡°Honors one through three are plus one, four through six zero, seven and nine minus one; valiant cards and eights are minus two; chivalries minus three.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the conventional wisdom, yes, but it¡¯s wrong. Shields are minus one, deadeyes are minus four.¡±

    Zanac blinked. Raeven¡¯s words went completely against the conventional wisdom, but if his previous play counted as any sort of credential, he ought to be listened to.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t speaking in jest, are you?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Why tell me, then?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the skill to pull it off at a real table.¡±

    Zanac chuckled, his opposite doing likewise.

    ¡°Fair enough, I don¡¯t.¡±

    Their previous worries about being seen commingling had been overcome by a general desire for each other''s company, and thus the pair had decided to damn the consequences and meet at Raeven¡¯s home anyway. They had taken a cavalier attitude to the whole affair, but not enough to forgo the barest tools of information security. Zanac had taken a circuitous route to get there, going to the previously used restaurant before quite literally leaving through the back door and boarding the marquis¡¯ carriage.

    For a Marquis, I must admit this place is less than I expected. Calling it ¡°practical¡± would be an unwarranted insult, however. It is merely restrained.

    Raeven finished up his shuffle and stuffed it inside the deck box. By snapping his fingers, he caught the attention of the lone maid in the room, who immediately went to the bar to fix the pair drinks. In a surprising point of disagreement between the two, their whiskey preferences were entirely incompatible: Zanac had a love of ryes; Raeven nurtured a fondness for single malt. The clinking noise he now heard compounded this divide further; for a reason beyond Zanac¡¯s comprehension, Raeven preferred his drinks chilled with ice. The maid returned, swapping out the empty glasses at the table for the fresh pours she had just made. Waving his hand noncommittally, Raeven warded her off,and after a bow, she left the room. With that sorted, and with a swift swill of his drink, Raeven resumed the conversation.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard rumors, Prince, that your brother has been caught in a sort of all-consuming rage.¡±

    Zanac kept himself from flinching. The subject of his brother was not one he relished in. He was now unbearable, every unique and mundane facet of his personality made aggravating through the lens of the sixteenth. The way he smacked his lips while chewing, his odd predilection for picking at his cuticles; even the little things irritated Zanac. He wanted to scream every time he passed Barbro in the hall; he wanted to drag his brother out onto the lawn and name him a traitor; he wanted to draw the blade of a palace guard and strike Barbro down. He barely managed to do more than wander back to his room and wordlessly rave in private. His response to Raeven¡¯s veiled inquiry was measured and cold.

    ¡°Have you now?¡±

    ¡°As I¡¯ve heard it, after a violent rant, he struck a maid. Of course, I wouldn¡¯t necessarily believe such excessive gossip, but-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. I was there.¡±

    Raeven seemed to lag.

    ¡°Oh, really now?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Raeven ever so slightly cocked his head, eyes fluttering upward before returning to his default steely stare. The gaps between words in their exchange began to draw out, Raeven spending some time thinking before responding.

    Igana, you¡¯re being too curt. He¡¯ll sense something¡¯s wrong. Well, he already has.

    ¡°So, then the details. I heard - again, secondhand - that she made some mistake in serving his meal. That¡¯s not necessarily what happened, but-¡±

    ¡°Exactly as you spoke.¡±

    ¡°But surely the rumors of it being over improper seasoning-¡±

    I can¡¯t stand this dance. The way he only enters into conversations where he already knows the answers. Maybe¡­ maybe this was too hard for him to believe, but his web is too strong otherwise. Agh, I can¡¯t do this right now.

    ¡°Marquis, why did you invite me here?¡±

    I forget, sometimes, that all this is pretense. All this subtlety and backhandedness; clever words and jokes, games of cards, base socialization. Political gamesmanship is exhausting. It¡¯s unbearable.

    Raeven paused, mouth wavering for a time. He turned out to the window, eyes dancing on objects locked away in the farfield.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking to advance my station, a relationship with the second prince is advantageous for that.¡±

    Ah, I didn¡¯t expect an answer with such candor. Good¡­ I guess.

    ¡°And what¡¯s in it for me? For you, getting in with a prince provides you a significant degree of security, but for me? I don¡¯t see much cause in standing alongside a marquis-¡±

    ¡°No, actually, that was a lie. I don¡¯t know why I invited you.¡±

    It was Zanac¡¯s time to go quiet, his words and the ill intent they carried dying on his tongue. Raeven continued anyway.

    ¡°I wanted to see you say no. I wanted to see you refuse my offer, maybe find some trite excuse, and then let the last month run cold. I wanted to see you come to me with an utterly foolish idea, something not spectacular in its flaws, but middling and boring. I¡¯ve hoped night after night that I would find something, that tomorrow I would learn some key fact about you to turn me away.¡±

    This isn¡¯t an act, is it? This is him, speaking without forethought or mask.

    ¡°Why to turn me away?¡±

    ¡°So I- so I could bury the Vaiself line. Finally sit and mourn it.¡±

    ¡°Bury it? Surely you know we¡¯re five children to the man? Our line is long from dead.¡±

    ¡°In my head, to finally cede the point that Re-Estize had rotted out from the core.¡±

    ¡°And why did you want that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    Raeven burrowed his chin in his palm, once again stroking his face when there was no hair to stroke.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Do you trust me, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡±

    At least, I haven¡¯t shared what I should have with a person I trust.

    ¡°Then I should endeavor to fix that. Your Highness, you know what I get called by courtiers and by the broader nobility, yes?

    ¡°Snake?¡±

    ¡°Close. It¡¯s a euphemism for ¡®snake,¡¯ that being ¡®independent¡¯. It¡¯s something for people to call me while I weave between both sides. I will not deny that moniker, it¡¯s fitting for what I do.¡±

    ¡°What you do.¡± Something about that bothers me.

    ¡°Are you speaking of a mercenary¡¯s avarice in your heart? But for power instead of gold.¡±

    ¡°All men know such a thing, Zanac. Would you deny that you carry the same desire in yours?¡±

    ¡°I suppose I wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°And, in any case, that¡¯s not what I was speaking of. I do weave between sides, I do pit them against each other for profit, coin, and political bargains alike.¡±

    What he does, not what he is.

    ¡°¡®Do¡¯. Not ¡®am.¡¯¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Zanac widened his eyes, gasping his next words without thinking.

    ¡°You¡¯re not an independent, are you?¡±

    The space died, Raeven''s face going cold. Zanac instantly realized the impropriety of his words, and then the futility of trying to take them back. The moment had suddenly turned sharp, visible tension and panic in both their bodies. Zanac''s mind flurried and sputtered, his thoughts not resolving into words but a general slurry of emotion. In that mire, he came upon an uncast resolve: that he oughtn''t retract his question, but let it hang unwavering in the air. Raeven broke first.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ perhaps a matter of opinion.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°I would deny-¡±

    "Deny, but you will not unmake it. Your loyalties lie not with yourself, but with my father. With House Vaiself, and with the line.¡±

    ¡°Those are the same thing.¡±

    ¡°No they aren¡¯t. You know that just as I do.¡±

    ¡°A-apologies, I do know.¡±

    ¡°Marquis¡­ you- you¡¯re four of six, aren¡¯t you? You have loyalty to the system, loyalty to the titles and forms of this nation.¡±

    My Gods. That- that it¡¯s four against two, and not three facing two facing one. He¡¯s the strongest among them, too. His adventurers to match any under the purview of the guild, his house forces to rival Boullope¡¯s, his wealth to rival Blumrush¡¯s. His influence from striking out on his own, he¡¯s on our side. He¡¯s on our side!

    ¡°Zanac, I am the man-¡±

    ¡°Bullshit! You are, aren¡¯t you? That¡¯s the cause for the questions. Isn¡¯t it? A battery of all things testing my fitness as a ruler and-¡±

    ¡°Enough! Enough. It¡¯s true.¡±

    Raeven stood out of his chair, grabbing his glass as he did so. He walked over to the window with an odd tension to his gait. Swirling it, he took another sip, peering out into the afternoon sky afield.

    "You¡¯re right, Your Highness. I am aligned with the King. I truly am. I''ve spoken before about character not mattering, but your father is a good man. I see that in him - every desirable personal quality: senses of valor and honor; he has candor, but more importantly knows when to shed it; loyalty to country not just as it exists but to how it should exist. He¡¯s patient, knowledgeable, and always willing to take the best path as he sees it, even if it comes at personal hardship. He isn¡¯t exceptional in our history - not like the namesakes of you or your brother. He isn¡¯t some new purveyor of policy, sees no holes in our nation to patch or fill over, but such a thing is too much to ask for.

    He is a man who has held the line for forty years; kept the Empire back and the north in our hands. When he was thrown into the crucible of leadership at your age, he survived, and so did the nation. Crisis after crisis he has disarmed, dismantled, or dispelled. Year after year he has snatched from the flames.

    But he is old, Zanac; he''s losing his grip. He has exhausted himself by bearing the crown. Where once he took up his sword and stood proudly to lead the people of this kingdom to war, where he took us against the Empire again and again, he can no longer. He is withering, and Re-Estize will wither with him if we let it. Wither and rot.¡±

    Zanac had no words.

    Marquis Raeven, this is who you are? Dishonest men cloak themselves in honesty - that¡¯s rote - but I¡¯ve known of none that do the reverse.

    "The Black Night seems to typify that. Twenty-four dashed against twelve, with nary a word to say for it. No accusation, no calls for blood beyond the general. Yes, it was Eight Fingers who fielded the men, but they have no need to kill the king¡­ murder your father - at least, by themselves. There¡¯s an outside influence, there has to be.¡±

    What is he saying? He¡¯s speaking of the Black Night? He¡¯s speculating to me, not pressing for information- or maybe he is, but not strategically. There¡¯s desperation in his voice; he really wishes to know, doesn¡¯t he? Not for his future or his plans but for himself.

    ¡°Marquis-¡±

    I can¡¯t tell him. I can¡¯t tell him! He¡¯s- even if he¡¯s- no¡­ wait¡­ even if he¡¯s in our faction, he¡¯s too much of a risk¡­ right? Or, or am I just being a fucking coward?

    ¡°Someone to pay for it, someone to provide capital, intelligence, weaponry, support. Gazef was lured away by a false message -  surely there¡¯s a leak in the city guard. Whom else does that implicate?¡±

    I am one. I am the worst kind of white-livered dog. Gods, here I have a- have um¡­ someone I¡¯m pretending is my friend, and I¡¯m keeping that from him. I¡¯m not honest with him. I¡¯ve built our relationship on a foundation of lies, of political gamesmanship. It''s not simply unbearable, it¡¯s unacceptable.

    ¡°Raeven-¡±

    I need to tell him. It¡¯s the one thing I can do, even if it ruins everything else.

    ¡°Tactically, it¡¯s the only option. Twenty-four entered without raising an alarm, twenty-four who were upon us before we had a damned clue. That¡¯s not possible without some traitor - without some mole in the palace, letting them slip past defenses and fortifications. Any redoubt should have found them, but no. Secret passages or perhaps skulks.¡±

    "Raeven, it was my brother."

    Raeven seized. He blinked several times, mouth quivering.

    "You say such not as fact, but as speculation?"

    "That night, he took me away from the revelry - literally dragged me away from the proceedings - and had me drink Liar''s Temperance. He asked me then, in his room and with his man present, what the challenges would be to his rule. I answered the basics, and he pushed. I realized he was not speaking of a hypothetical, but a coming reality. He spoke openingly then.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°I stopped him before he could elaborate. I couldn¡¯t bear to hear such vile words. I suppose¡­ I suppose now that was a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Zanac, why?¡±

    ¡°I- I¡¯m not sure why. He spoke of my father, of him holding onto the throne for too long. I couldn¡¯t believe it when he said it, I still can¡¯t understand it.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what he said to me.¡±

    ¡°But- but there has to be something more.¡±

    Zanac slowly shook his head. Raeven shrieked.

    ¡°What?! But, he¡¯s the first in line! Gods, Zanac, I thought you were the culprit of this! It was the only thing that made sense, you leaking the location of the passages in exchange for the throne.¡±

    The door shot open. Two maids burst into the room with concerned looks on their faces, rushing in to find their master agitated and enraged. The more senior of the two opened her mouth to speak, but Raeven cut her off tersely.

    "Leave us!"

    They both froze in place, bowed, and exited, gently closing the door as they did so. He swirled his glass, stopped to think for a moment, then slammed the remainder of his drink in a single swoop; Zanac found this course of action wise and did the same. It went too quick, and with some hesitation, he sprung up and went to the bar to refill his drink.

    ¡°But his wrist?! Wasn¡¯t he assaulted? Or-¡±

    ¡°Self-infliction.¡±

    ¡°Gods.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that for a fact. Just speculation.¡±

    Zanac uncorked the rye, and with mild surprise, managed to refill his glass without spilling it.

    ¡°The council chambers, the vomiting. You mean to say-¡±

    ¡°He felt guilty? I¡¯m sure he does."

    Setting it down and slapping the cork back in place, Zanac snatched up the single malt in his dexter, undoing the cork. Tossing it dejectedly back onto the bar, he grasped his drink with his free hand and wound through to Raeven.

    "That fucking dog! He- he would order the assassination of his own fucking father?!"

    "I think he- think he was manipulated into it."

    "By whom?!"

    "I''m not sure."

    "There aren''t many fucking options! It has to have been Boullope! That son of a whore-"

    "Son of a bitch."

    "Yes! Gods above! May He of the Winding Fissure swallow that man whole!"

    Zanac flashed the bottle in consolation. Raeven held out his glass and let the prince serve him.

    "I was thinking it may have been El-Nix. Put him on the throne, weaken us for the upcoming war."

    "You think so? Any prince gullible enough to fall for that- that¡­ it''s unimaginable! It makes no sense! He was destined to have the crown! Have the throne! Why put any of that in question?"

    "I don''t know. I don''t know, Raeven.¡±

    ¡°Someone must have poisoned his ear, led him to this course.¡±

    ¡°But to fall for such words; it¡¯s madness.¡±

    ¡°A mad crown prince. What a horrible thing to say¡­ Eight Fingers was there.¡±

    ¡°He had the full support of Eight Fingers.¡±

    ¡°True. Who else? Obviously a backer in the House of Lords; at least, I would hope.¡±

    ¡°I believe so, he would need significant resources.¡±

    ¡°Gods, was what happened at Carne his doing?¡±

    Zanac lurched. The idea of the assassination on Gazef being a related event had yet to have crossed his mind. He felt exceedingly stupid for missing the connection.

    ¡°Are you saying he¡¯s in league with Slane?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s possible, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Gods above.¡±

    How many nations are bearing down over our head?

    "It''s selfish. Petty."

    "Impatient."

    "Impatience¡­ To think that a man like that would be your brother."

    Zanac placed the bottle on the window sill, the thump punctuating their conversation. Their words drew off, both taking sips of their drinks, as they watched the clouds move overhead.

    ¡°Who else knows?¡±

    ¡°I think- I think perhaps my sister.¡±

    ¡°Renner?¡±

    ¡°I- I believe so.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait. Gods, she was attacked too, an assassination-¡±

    "I know."

    ¡°Her pauper-cum-knight drove off an assailant. He- he wanted to have her murdered too?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand it either.¡±

    ¡°But didn¡¯t she run to him in the after? She did, my maids reported as such; then, he smacked her. And¡­ her later motions in the council room. Why- why- why any of it?!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s how I feel.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Something in her eyes, the way she spoke that night. She spoke to Lord Keveleos in the council. Her words were¡­ calculated. I can''t make sense of them.¡±

    ¡°You dislike her, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Stop being pointed, would you?

    ¡°There¡¯s something about her. It¡¯s like she¡¯s not all there¡­

    "Or maybe she¡¯s the only one of us who is."

    Need you say such disquieting things?!

    "The way her eyes follow me.¡±

    They''re never hard, just evaluatory. Almost predatory - a predator in disguise. She¡¯s like a storybook monster. A feyish thing, or perhaps felish.

    ¡°And so she knows?¡±

    ¡°She knows, she has too."

    ¡°I¡­ if any of that is true, I think- I think I see why you think her an abyssal thing.¡±

    Zanac finished his third drink for the afternoon, setting down his glass and leaving it.

    ¡°Something like that. In any case, enough of my sister.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. I''ll- er, rather, you''ll have to speak to me in length about her; what you see in her¡­ behaviors. I think I''ve seen glints in the dark.  Actually, enough of this dark speculation in general. Your Highness, I must speak.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    "I once had doubts - no longer. That you would be here, that you would choose to speak to me about things so black and repulsive¡­ I can have no further reservation. Your Highness, I- Gods above, may they strike me down if any of what I say is spoken dishonestly, I- I... I wish to swear fealty to you.¡±

    Raeven dropped to his knees, head slung low. Zanac blinked unbelievingly.

    ¡°Fealty?! How is that- is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°Not proper fealty - not that of a vassal to his liege - but something more mercenary.¡±

    ¡°Mercenary? You mean the fealty of an adventurer?! Raeven, I think you¡¯re spending positively too much time with your men!¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    ¡°But, I¡¯m the second prince!¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll have the throne.¡±

    ¡°Godsdamnit, look at me! Need I remind you of the order of succession?¡±

    Raeven¡¯s head shot upward, a sardonic look in his eye.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t! You¡¯ll have the throne. The crown needs to be yours; it is yours! I will do everything in my power to get you it!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be king! I don¡¯t want to be a regent.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my turn to curse in the name of the Gods. Zanac, you¡¯re twenty-two, and yet you have the wisdom and tact of a man double your age. You possess the wit and the-¡±

    ¡°No, Raeven, you misunderstand. I- I decided then.¡±

    ¡°Decided what and when?¡±

    ¡°That- that darkest of nights. In the council room, watching him vomit, I decided then that I could not let Barbro take the throne. If that was possible without bearing the crown, I would do everything in my power to do it.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not possible.¡±

    ¡°Then- then that¡¯s a reality I have yet to face. A reality that I¡¯m facing now. I don¡¯t want to be king, I truly don¡¯t.¡±

    Zanac shrunk. Nothing made sense. He tried to retrace the events of the summer to any cause in his memory. A month and a half ago, Gazef was nearly slain at Carne. Somehow, that had escalated into nearly forty additional dead, chaos at a palace that had not seen violence in living memory, and his brother asking him to help murder their father. Worse, all this was bookended by events that had no clear connection to one another, yet were too densely packed to be unrelated. Abominations seeped from the woodwork, E-Rantel threatened with destruction twice over, and the emergence of new heroes in the east. Now, as a consequence of that, he now had the third force of the Kingdom on his knees, begging to bind himself to him. It was a complete non sequitur.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I never wished to say such a thing either.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to bear the crown.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t, but I¡¯ll do everything I can to lighten the burden. Forgive me, I¡¯m unsure of what to say. I¡¯ve never done something like this before.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you swear yourself to my father?¡±

    ¡°I did, but not like this. By the time my House¡¯s mantle was passed to me, he had already lost his agency, mired in the tug and pull of court politics. His kindness was something he learned through his errors, a growth of character. He needed to break the bravado of youth, something utterly different from what you have. You match him skin-deep, or perhaps a span into your flesh, but the core of your being is different. You have a sort of cynicism, one you must now temper in duty. Better, you came to that realization yourself. I can find no better man to be the next regent of Re-Estize.¡±

    Zanac peered down at Raeven, tears in his eyes. These were words he never expected to hear. It was overwhelming. He swallowed, asking the question that had been stabbing him from the beginning of this turmoil.

    ¡°And how do I know you aren¡¯t baiting me along, as was done to my brother?¡±

    ¡°The Gods be my witnesses, my Prince, perhaps alliance would be an easier term to swallow, but that would be untruthful. I am uninterested in parity; such a thing matters nothing to me. I need security, I need the assurance of a liege to his vassal, not the mercenary binding of a partnership. Do you understand, my prince? I am asking more of you. Please.¡±

    The faintest of smiles grew on Zanac¡¯s face, a sudden mote of hope for the future appearing in his heart.

    ¡°Then, with the Gods as my witnesses as well, I accept.¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (14)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 2]

    A streak swept the dark, a claw-like thing slipping into the body infront of her. Evileye hung in the air, casually watching as two men died. The twins were - as always - efficient killers, their actions minimalistic yet never languid. The method of death didn¡¯t interest Evileye, but the way the pair closed the distance did. Tina and Tia had an affinity for shadow, a way of drawing on the black of the world to cloak them as they moved.

    It¡¯s strange, the way they slip from shadow to shadow, not traveling the space in between, but the blackness itself. A way of drawing on the space between space.

    The soft gurgling trailed off as Tia and Tina drained the men of the last of their blood. Evileye realized it was her time. Her mana pool was slowly burning with magics of bodily levitation and transparency, but she showered more sparks into it now, its power surging. Her heart beat once, the ichor inside her shedding its vampiric energies through the walls of her veins and piercing her skin. She poured both into the palm of her hands, drenching the air in anguish and axiomatic arcana. The immateria emulsified, spells and suffering interweaving, her fingers dripping with the forces of vampirism. Turning them outward, she tugged at the false larynx formed only by experienced mages, issuing a silent cast.

    ¡°Silent Magic - Create Lesser Undead.¡±

    The emulsions bloomed from her hands, plunging into the bodies of the two men before they could fall to the ground. It took root in the nape of their necks and writhed down the length of their spines, some tendrils splitting off to grip the skull. Within an instant, the rest of their skeletons had been touched by the blackness. Their bodies were at once converted from flesh to something other, a web of incorporeal order coiling and winding around their muscle and marrow. The umbilicals severed themselves from her palms and shed their dark vitality to the air, tainting it as they shriveled and turned to dust. A necrogenesis occurred; two wordless voices appeared in her mind. They thanked her, grateful for their making. Such was the process of dark creation. Evileye fought back the urge to yawn.

    ¡°This spot is prepped.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡±

    The pair were whispering for her benefit, as Evileye was unable to read hand signals. Even if she knew advanced battlesign, she wouldn¡¯t be able to respond in it when invisibile. That they had to communicate verbally at all was a sign of evolution in their enemy. The warehouse they last hit had a magical drogue thrown over it, a thread drawn into the material world and tied round the handle of a water bucket; when Evileye had attempted to cast ¡®Message,¡¯ it had drawn taught, dumped the bucket, and alerted the guards to their presence. Taking the subsequent fight hadn¡¯t been particularly difficult, but it dirtied the engagement and prevented them from taking prisoners uninjured. Evileye whispered back.

    ¡°Mm, got it. Saw everything. I''m heading to the next target - want to catch someone important."

    ¡°We¡¯re starting too. The other two?¡±

    ¡°Slackers. Can¡¯t pull their weight this time?¡±

    Are they always this sardonic on missions? I can¡¯t imagine the shit they say in their hand language.

    ¡°As if. No, they planted themselves just outside the village. Worst case, they¡¯ll door knock and drive the group into your knives. Alright, I¡¯m going to Priority One. Keep fast, you two.¡±

    Evileye ascended, drifting over to her next target. The Blue Roses were performing a midnight raid on an Eight Fingers base, a fortified hamlet south-southeast of the capital by about eight leagues. The turnaround was somewhat sudden, an offhand mention of a convoy¡¯s position to Renner during a weekly checkup earlier that day turning into a new target within about a minute of her thinking. She had a peculiar way of getting excited over a message link, her speech turning chipped and rapidfire; little was understandable - something about ¡°one of the ten core growing sites,¡± which then snapped to begging for a strike faster than Evileye could track. Her prediction as to its location had only been off by a league, though her assay of its defenses was a woeful underestimation. The village had been entrenched to such a degree that Evileye remembered what it felt like to laugh.

    Walls, watchtowers, patrolling guards at night - it¡¯s absurd. It¡¯s just a Laira field and a few buildings. I know we went into this whole attack slightly hot, but these defenses are far stronger than I expected.

    Two structures sat within the walls, one a plantation house, the other a warehouse. She flew to the former. Lazily rolling to face the sky, she flew head first in the air, cocking her head to spy the two zombies she had made. Their gait was stilted, but she suspected that for those lesser kins not gifted with darkvision, the undead would be impossible to mark as such.

    I¡¯m sort of surprised Lakyus is letting me use them. She¡¯s a servant of Elydro; it must have been difficult for her to say yes, irrespective of their utility on the field of battle. The undead are abominations in the eyes of the Gods, after all.

    Approaching the plantation house, she sped up, circling it with a wide berth. The house had two floors, with a center decorative rotunda splitting off into opposite wings, five rooms to a floor and side. Each had its own window, though only one on the second floor cast light into the night. Coming round to the other side, she spotted an entry point. A single shutter had been left cracked half-open on the first floor, likely as a result of someone trying to keep the house cool through the heat of the day. Evileye flattened her body, turned onto her side, and drifted in. Her objective was simple: hunt the mage.

    She¡¯s tired - well, all four of them are, but she¡¯s the most¡­ uh¡­ vrathir hjodlik hlind¡­ what¡¯s the term in the speech of western men? ¡°Wants rock sleep?¡± That¡¯s the literal but it doesn¡¯t sound good. What was I doing again? Find the caster, then go outside to dry the fields. Shame it rained yesterday, a lot more to draw from the crop.

    Arcanists were pesky things, and tended to weave spells at precisely the wrong moments. If they lurked undiscovered, they would often message for reinforcements, summon them from the ether, or send surprise firebolts from locations difficult to assail. The presence of a caster was suspected before the Blue Roses began their assault - the number of wizards and sorcerers they faced week after week steadily increased - but the wards had confirmed it. Evileye decided to probe for a sensor net.

    ¡°Silent Magic - Counter Detect. Silent Magic - False Cover. Silent Magic - Message.¡±

    The spell blossomed, yet it did not connect. Evileye had not locked Lakyus or any other member of her party; rather, she commanded the spell to seek herself. The thread turned around to link to her, yet she held it at bay. It distended, reaching over four hundred paces in length in the span of a second. She kept it from touching her mind, letting the thread whip around her until it was nearly a mile in length. She snatched it from the ether as it threatened to fizzle. Listening inwardly to the gentle feedback of the spell, she evaluated the clicks, pops, and background hums of the manatiac expanse. Pulling the noise apart into its components, she sensed a low warbling intermixed with two resonant tones.

    Drogues, sounds like¡­ second tier. A ward too, also second. That clicking is regular, an ¡®alarm¡¯ spell¡­ These are all fresh too, no degradation in the pattern, so all are less than an hour old. I didn¡¯t see any carts or parties leaving on the approach, so I can confirm the caster is still on site - judging by the strength, they likely only have access to second tier magics. Where is he? Check the lit room first.

    She had popped into a room with three women bunking together, all lazily spread across a blanket on the ground. The door to the hall was closed; Evileye thought wiser of opening it, instead simply letting her body come apart. Her skin peeled apart, flakes shedding into the air through the tatters in her bodysuit; once it was gone, her muscles unwound and snipped themselves into little pieces, what fat remained on her body falling apart into motes and being caught by the air; the liquid in her ichor boiled away, the residue disintegrating as well; her bones rotted and undid, turning to dust. As her eyes dissolved, her vision slurred, slipped, then winked out altogether.

    I haven''t done this in years; need to reaccustom myself.

    It was a chaotic aspect natural to her status as a superior unliving being, an emergent magic of vampirekind that allowed them to rapidly decompose into a thin cloud of dust, move dissociated through the air, and then reform themselves at will by way of their regeneration. Her mask and her cloak undid themselves as well, slipping into the manatic expanses, she having inlaid them with such magics for just that purpose. When it was done, she and her equipment had become a brackish cloud, still invisible by way of her arcane aptitude. She seeped through the lock in the door before recombining on the other side.

    I remember the days back then, spending entire hours slipping through the cracks in rocks to get to my safe harbors, sealing them to prevent shadow demons from following me. Gods, I was so young.

    Lost in a bout of nostalgia for the days of the Demon Gods, Evileye steadily reknit herself, her bones building and becoming a site for the growth of muscle, which then supported skin. As her eyes returned to her, she found herself in the hallway through the centerline of the plantation house. To the left was nothing of note other than more bedrooms rooms, but to the right was the building¡¯s rotunda. Moving that way, she approached the space, finding a single Narcotics Division bladesman on duty walking the length of its bottom stair.

    One guard? I mean, not that it matters. But just one? You''re going to build this place just shy of a fortress and then have a single watchman at the barracks?

    Evileye slipped overtop the head of the guard. Ascending to the second floor, she flitted round the corner of the staircase, searching for the lit room she had seen on the approach. She found it to her right, still emitting light and with its door open, and drifted towards it.

    Who doesn''t close their door at night? Idiot. Not that it would have stopped me, but you could have at least forced me to return to cloud form.

    Peering in, she saw exactly what she wanted to see.

    Found you.

    He was up late, pouring over materials set on his desk, the space only lit by the light emitting from the tip of his staff. She drifted closer, drawing herself flat as she slid into the space between him and the ceiling above. Looking down, she idly read the contents of his spellbook.

    Continual magic theory? That went out of fashion fifty- er, no, a hundred and fifty years ago. What sort of second rate instruction has he been getting?

    Evileye sighed and removed her mask, which caused the man to jerk his head upward. His eyes darted around, peering through her to spy the source of the noise. She considered which spell she wished to close his life with, before coming to a realization.

    Animating those men has left me a bit... Yeah, I should have time.

    Evileye dispelled her invisibility, and fell upon him to drink.

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 3]

    Renner idly watched her friend, tracing the rounds of her eyes and curves of her face; they were worn.

    I think she¡¯s doing better - at least, I¡¯ve been able to walk her back from her worst rages.

    Lakyus had come close to the edge three weeks prior, and Renner realized that she had driven her friend too fast for too long. She was strained to her limit, and Renner did what she could to relieve tension: providing gifts, casual conversation, and selecting easier targets for jobs. It had worked, and the woman who sat in front of her now seemed half as stressed and agitated as she was a month prior.

    Maintaining her is becoming more difficult. Her insides are fraying; no, they are burning out. It¡¯s a delicate balance, keeping that flame lit, yet low all the same. I loose her on too many hard targets, she¡¯ll extinguish; I fail to provide her satisfying victories, she¡¯ll do the same. If I can keep her from consuming herself by the equinox, it should be alright. Should be.

    Renner sipped her tea, casually shifting her gaze over to Tina. The twin was sitting at the table along with the other two women, and did what Renner had just done despite holding her cup incorrectly.

    She goes completely against my expectations. How can someone that short and light have killed so many? I mean, she¡¯s more diminutive in stature than every maid in the palace. With Evileye, it at least makes sense - she is a magic caster, after all - but the thought of the woman sitting beside me actually downing a man at her size, much less scores of them, is absurd. It''s almost humorous, how could- Ah, Chardelon, you¡¯re falling into the same traps her victims do. She¡¯s tiny, yes, but she has a deadly air about her.

    This was the first time she had actually met either of the sisters, the pair having slipped away before she could see them on the Black Night. Her outfit was completely afield any sense of etiquette or class, somehow managing to simultaneously armor the forearms, breasts, and shins while exposing everything else; as far as Renner could tell, it was her actual battlegear, and she was left wondering how Tina entered the palace unaccosted by the Royal Guard. Somehow, she had remained armed, a haft protruding from the small of her back. Suddenly, she set down her cup, sprung out of her chair, and began pacing the room. Her route inscribed the walls, and she made it a point to kneel down to inspect individual pieces of furniture, using the span of her hand to measure the cap in between their bases and the ground. Her arms were thin, but not dainty. By Renner¡¯s measure, she dripped violence.

    I wonder how different this room looks to her. What she sees in it that I don¡¯t. I look at this table and spy what went into it, the methods of its creation, its cost and what could have been in its place. For her? Its value is as a hiding place, or perhaps in how it could be toppled or slid over in a brawl. Not just this room, but the whole of the world. City streets, forests, farm fields, all of- oh, wait, yes, on the matter of farm fields.

    ¡°So, I¡¯ve had an idea as of late.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? That being?¡±

    ¡°A scheme for the rotation of crops.¡±

    Crop rotation had been a flit of Renner¡¯s for some time now, a practice she had experimented with for the prior three years. On her slice of the crown lands, she had abolished monoculture, raising new crops in the same field year after year, this on the idea that varied cultivars took varied things from the land when they grew. Her supposition had been correct, and on the land she had her peasants sow, harvest bounty had increased significantly. Thus, she had prepared another policy proposal, drafted a speech to deliver to the House of Lords, and was now in the process of penning copies to send to those not in attendance. What she intended to do with Lakyus now was practice.

    Thinking on the topic, I really ought to do this more often. Push for ideas that I know will fail, yet spread them to as many ears as possible. It¡¯s a three-way safety, no? Picture my brother¡¯s ascendance, I¡¯ll simply have him parrot my ideas with less womanly waffling and reap the benefits; picture Jircniv¡¯s victory in the east, and i will have already proven my value as a policy maker and willing hostage; picture a grand discontent on the part of villeins, and as my family is slung over the gallows I will have a reputation as the only of my kin to truly care for the people. As such, I ought to rehearse rejection.

    ¡°Rotation? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Mm, you know the patterns of on and off years for land?¡±

    ¡°Swapping between using it for grazing and for growing crops?¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Alternating between agriculture and husbandry has its benefits, but it¡¯s a basic progress. Not only should fields be swapped between fallow and growing periods, but the types of plants used year to year should be changed; or rather-¡±

    ¡°¡®Rotated.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Not a problem. What would you plant?¡±

    ¡°Three fields: For the first field, autumn rye, then spring oats; in the second, red beans or perhaps root vegetables; the third field would be left fallow with some potential for grazing. It¡¯s worked quite well on the land I¡¯ve tested.¡±

    ¡°And what would this help?¡±

    ¡°The health of the soil. I must admit I know nothing of the principles behind it - something about aspect-salts in the dirt - but the results are clear. Improvement for no additional labor on the part of the farmer.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°Then? Mm, yes. Lag time as farmers gain experience with the new methods, as well as less valuable harvests to bring to market.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s face began to turn, steadily darkening as she tried to find a response. Narrowing her eyes, she darted them away from Renner, resting them on the table.

    ¡°I''m not sure, your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°I mean, we¡¯ve had discussions like this before.; Many lords want immediate gains.¡±

    ¡°Hm.¡±

    ¡°This scheme you¡¯ve devised¡­ well, frankly I have no idea how that will actually increase yields, but how long will it take to show results?¡±

    Ah, wonderful. She found the sticking point.

    ¡°Six years, give or take.¡±

    This was a lie. Renner had not done six years of testing, but the trends made it clear that she would turn a profit on the endeavor by the end of the current harvest. That her yields had not yet exceeded pre-rotation levels was due to a variety of factors, only one of which was related to her proposal: her tenants had never attempted to grow red beans before, and would take time to acclimate to the new crop. They had adapted to planting the new crop within a single harvest, though to hamper them, she had ordered rearrangement of the irrigation ditches and a number of other useless tasks, many of which were only partially complete when time came to sow. Alongside a late cold snap last year, this had kept her harvest out of the black. The proposal she would submit contained none of these details, and despite having falsified no data, would lead readers to the misleading conclusion that Renner¡¯s plan would take half a decade to yield results.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°And how much money will be lost by planting crops other than grains or cereals during those six years?¡±

    ¡°The specific yields vary from crop to crop, as does price at market. However, I think a farmer¡¯s overall profits would dip at most eighty silver on the parity, which means a twenty percent loss in revenue. However, once farmers gain the requisite experience, the profit should go up to a hundred-and-thirty silver on the parity. I¡¯m sure the figure would be higher with the integration of proper husbandry.¡±

    One-hundred-forty on the parity if grazing is kept to cattle, and if a farmer bothers to collect and spread the manure of their chickens, one-forty-five.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s tempting, but can farmers really take a twenty percent loss on their income for six whole years?¡±

    ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t be a flat loss, but I see your point. We would need a lending structure: interest free lines of credit to cover the gap, then repayment after. If for whatever reason yields don¡¯t recover, we¡¯d simply waive the debt, but otherwise, we could recoup the outstanding balance in four years. Everything after is profit.¡±

    What light remained in Lakyus¡¯s face died, and with a slight sigh, she began the visibly taxing task of letting her friend down. Renner was elated.

    ¡°You¡¯re being too optimistic, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°I told you, didn¡¯t I? A lot of lords prefer to focus on immediate gains; moreover, they want stability in the short-run. I imagine most peasants will hesitate even if you tell them they¡¯ll be able to get a harvest four thirds larger in six years.¡±

    Renner contained herself, instead letting her lips quiver and her eyes droop. She snapped her visage back together a moment later, this to give the tantalizing impression that she was suffering inside and yet too brave to show it. Lakyus noticed and similarly repressed sadness.

    It¡¯s like I hoped; she¡¯s hung up on the time delay. It should be fine to allude to that only once in my speech then.

    ¡°I don''t understand it. Things went fine on the test field. Good, actually.¡±

    ¡°Just because you had good results doesn''t mean you can guarantee others will.¡±

    "Well, true. I didn''t test for every condition - cycles of the weather confound everything anyway - but how could I have? It would have increased the effort fourfold, not to mention taking more time."

    ¡°Sure, but you¡¯re going to unsettle people if you don¡¯t have solid figures. I don¡¯t know if thirty percent is a conservative estimate or an average on your part, but either way, it¡¯s not very convincing. You''d need to guarantee profits, otherwise they wouldn''t be able to look past the deficit in the short run.¡±

    A little desperation to sweeten the act then.

    "Perhaps not a loan then, but an outright subsidy. Cover up to twenty percent in losses for the full six years."

    "The only supporters you''d find would be from the Noble faction; you''d weaken the crown and its treasury."

    ¡°But, if we can guarantee significant returns in six years, all the Kingdom would benefit. Better, strengthen!"

    Lakyus twitched, and even Tina stiffened in the corner of eye. It was the sort of perfectly tragic statement which Renner loved to make, its flaw obvious and unbearable.

    ¡°It will, but not equally. The crown would still be out the money, but you''ll have lost over a year''s worth of taxes. The royal faction wouldn''t stand for it."

    ¡°Then how about asking the merchants to front the cash? Lending, but give them a token interest-"

    ¡°Any merchantmen or banks large enough to front that much coin would be just as mired in politics as we are. If they help the Royals too readily, it would jeopardize relationships with Noble factionalists. I- I¡¯m sorry. It wouldn¡¯t work.¡±

    Renner allowed the following pregnant pause to stretch, her chest deflating and her gaze dropping. Before Lakyus could grow uncomfortable enough to apologize further, Renner conceded.

    ¡°Right. My apologies. There sure are a lot of issues, Lakyus.¡±

    ¡°I mean, you have to have seen these objections coming, right? I''m sure what you''re saying has merit, but proposals don''t pass on their merits alone. Well, sorry, but you need to take politics into account sometimes; I''m just saying this now so you won''t hear it later."

    And I thank you for it, Lakyus.

    "Mm. I suppose."

    "What about just implementing it in the Crown lands? Not just what you manage, but-¡±

    Cut her off.

    ¡°My brothers wouldn''t approve.¡±

    ¡°Ah, you mean those feebleminds who¡­ those sons who left their faculties in the womb for your sake.¡±

    ¡°Eh? I don''t share a mother with either."

    ¡°Ahhhh, then they left it with your father! To think the Royal Family is in such a decrepit state.¡±

    Renner let the subject die, having confirmed all she needed to from the conversation.

    ¡°Ah, you can come in! You¡¯re fine with that, yes?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    Renner¡¯s perplexion was genuine; Lakyus¡¯s words were a complete non-sequitur, and they were followed by a number of confounding things that happened all at once. Tina suddenly dove to the side, catching herself before she struck the ground and rolling under a loveseat, all without making a sound. Stranger still, this earned no reaction from Lakyus, who sat entirely nonplussed, drinking her tea. When the door to the corridor opened an instant later, Renner shot her head around to look, and upon seeing the entrant, felt her heart bloom in happy surprise.

    Climb! Oh, how wonderful it is to see you! Wait, so¡­ how did she¡­ what? Did she hear him at the door? They both must have.

    ¡°Pardon me.¡±

    Renner was at once torn between awe at her friends¡¯ senses, intimidation at Tina¡¯s sudden disappearance, and general joy at Climb¡¯s unexpected arrival. She realized she ought to pick one to focus on, and in an instant, chose to celebrate Climb.

    I thought he was training for another half-hour. He must have cut it short. Did I lose track of the time? Ah, I¡¯m positively discombobulated.

    ¡°Good morning, Your Highness, Lady Aindra.¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Climb.¡±

    ¡°Morning.¡±

    Her dog slipped through the room, working his way over to the table. Looking down at it, he snagged on Tina¡¯s cup, who had - for her part - remained hidden.

    ¡°Climb, not there. Here.¡±

    She gestured to an as-of-yet unoccupied seat. He paused, pivoting in place to look for the third person in the room. He missed her, and with a tinge of confusion in his eyes, turned to reject Renner¡¯s offer.

    ¡°But...¡±

    Ah that puppy dog look, that nagging voice in his head that tells him he¡¯s being disrespectful. Intoxicating. He feels his place is not at this table; for what it¡¯s worth, he¡¯s right. He shouldn¡¯t be sitting at it, nor standing beside it; rather, he ought be underneath it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Th-this¡­ Lady Aindra."

    ¡°I''ve told you before, haven''t I? Call me Lakyus.¡±

    In defeat, Climb made to sit, Lakyus turning back to Renner with a wry delivery.

    ¡°Climb is special.¡±

    Ah, I¡¯m having a lot of fun right now.

    ¡°I¡¯m warning you, I won¡¯t have mischief in this room.¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra, please don¡¯t tease me.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine¡­ fine. You really are a stick in the mud, aren¡¯t you, Climb? You should learn not to get hung up on protocol like her.¡±

    ¡°Eh? I think it¡¯s perfectly within my purview as princess to get ¡®hung up¡¯ on-¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. It is. Though, in any case, Climb is special because he¡¯s yours.¡±

    Entirely correct.

    Climb suddenly spotted Tina - who had at some point slipped out from underneath the loveseat to ball in the far corner - dropping into a defensive stance with a short cry. Lakyus sighed, issuing a rebuke a moment after.

    ¡°Now you¡¯ve gone and scared him. You don¡¯t need to hide here.¡±

    ¡°Understood, boss.¡±

    The tension drained out of Climb as Tina sprung to her feet and lazed over.

    ¡°Ah, I don¡¯t believe you¡¯ve met. Climb, this is-¡±

    ¡°Tina."

    ¡°She¡¯s a member of my team.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me. Pleased to meet you, my name is Climb.¡±

    Of all things, Climb then decided to bow. Renner all at once gave up trying to predict the course of events, and though she was miffed that he had still yet to sit, tried to find the entertainment in what was happening.

    ¡°Huh? Oh, don¡¯t worry about it."

    ¡°Tia¡¯s not here. Gagaran and Evileye both should be here, but¡­ well, they aren''t. It''s not like me wearing a dress makes this stuffy, does it? It¡¯s not like they need to wear one here, but they still resist coming.¡±

    ¡°I see. Still, it is an honor to meet the famed Miss Tina. I hope I¡¯ll have the chance to learn from you in the future.¡±

    Is he going to join us? Not of his own accord. Just order him.

    ¡°Talk after you sit down, Climb.¡±

    This finally snapped his attention back from Tina, and with a look of remembrance on his face, he slunk into his chair. Renner swept her hands across the table, laying out a saucer and cup for him and pouring him what remained in her tea-pot. A royal pouring out tea for a commoner was a more egregious breach of etiquette than anything Tina had done since she arrived, but Renner couldn¡¯t bring herself to care. Climb silently thanked her and drank from his cup.

    ¡°It¡¯s delicious, Princess.¡±

    He has no clue, does he? Ah, he¡¯s precious.

    Renner held in a giggle, and offhandedly decided that today was a good day. Tina interjected, seemingly at random.

    ¡°Tia is off gathering intelligence. She was supposed to be here, but Fiendish Leader dropped it on her last minute. Blame her.¡±

    Gods, I can¡¯t scry her at all. I so rarely encounter members of her kind, I have no tools to read them.

    ¡°I see. Well, um, anyway, I hope I¡¯ll be able to meet her sometime.¡±

    ¡°Climb, Tia and Tina are twins. They even wear their hair the same way.¡±

    ¡°You two are quite the pair - honestly, the similarity is impressive.¡±

    Tina blinked at Renner once, before turning her eye to Climb. She spent some time peering at him, more staring than looking. There was an odd intensity to her gaze, one that stirred discomfort in Renner. Climb noticed it too, and with a sheepish look to the woman, asked a stuttered question.

    ¡°I-is something the matter?¡±

    ¡°Too big.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    What?

    Lakyus scrambled in place, sitting ramrod-straight in her chair while frantically waving her hands.

    ¡°It''s nothing; just, um- an inside joke. Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m serious; don¡¯t worry about it, Climb. Don¡¯t worry about it. Really.¡±

    She sounds positively panicked¡­ I haven¡¯t the faintest idea why. What in the name of the Gods does ¡°too big¡± mean? ¡°Too tall¡±, maybe? Chardelon, you¡¯re regressing into your act.

    ¡°A-alright.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, what are you on about?¡±

    She snapped to Renner, a look of genuine desperation in her eyes.

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to get dragged down this path about Climb.¡±

    Dragged down what path?!

    ¡°I just meant-¡±

    ¡°Quiet. There¡¯s a reason I put your sister on duty instead of- like- just, keep quiet, please, Gods. Understand that, please.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t want Tina to explain. So, wait, what?

    ¡°Yes, Fiendish Leader.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, I haven¡¯t the faintest clue of what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Is- Tina isn''t speaking of a proclivity of hers, is she? I¡­ I don¡¯t know how to feel about that.

    Lakyus visibly cringed, and Renner found herself caught in a storm of emotions. She felt, at once, jealous, wildly angry at Tina for having dared look at him with lascivious eyes, and deeply insulted that he had been deemed unfit. Making this all-the-stranger was exactly why Climb had - at his modest stature and build - been deemed ¡®too big.¡¯ The moment was too much for Renner, and she let Lakyus divert without objection.

    ¡°Um, well¡­ Ahem. Climb, that armor of yours, is it treating you ok?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s really nice. Thank you very much for it.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I mean, well, honestly it was just the scraps from our own armor. Besides, Renner asked me. How could I refuse?¡±

    ¡°You refused to take payment. I had some savings I was ready to give to you for the cause!¡±

    I mean, I know I ought to thank her, but it really does sting.

    ¡°It¡¯s not right for a princess to spend her allowance, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s separate from my domain¡¯s income. I just wanted to use my own money to commission Climb¡¯s armor. I was trying to work through you, not command you to do it for me!¡±

    ¡°I figured that¡¯s what you wanted, though I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of a Princess needing to provide armor for her own bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°Then, if you knew, why did you gift me it in the first place? Lakyus, I am highly dissatisfied with this course of action.¡±

    ¡°Given the circumstances, I think you¡¯re being quite picky about a gift that by all rights you should accept without resistance.¡±

    Climb struggled in place, visibly unsure of whom he should make his appellations to. Eventually, to her satisfaction, he picked Renner.

    ¡°Thank you very much, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Now, I think we¡¯ve drifted quite a ways off-topic. Returning to the previous discussion-¡±

    ¡°Something about Eight Fingers¡­ Ah, that¡¯s right. We were going over the raid details. We hit the one you gave us last night- er, I suppose early this morning. Burned what we could to ash. That makes three now; starting to become significant. Actually-¡±

    Tina foisted a bag onto the table, Lakyus withdrawing a scroll from it and handing it to Renner.

    ¡°We found this scroll in one of the warehouses. Encoded, and it doesn¡¯t look like a supply order. Instructions from higher in the division, maybe. Can you make heads or tails of it?¡±

    Renner unfurled it, spotting row after row of symbols covering the page. Stars, dots, dashes, alchemical symbols, those of the elements, and others; none resembled the language of Re-Estize, nor of Baharuth.

    ¡°It¡¯s a substitution cipher, no?¡±

    Alchemical symbology - fitting for the Narcotics division. Hm, this entire scroll drips sophistication on the part of the scribe. At the very least, they were experienced in the symbology of Slane - the usage of elemental light and dark is only something done by those believers in the Six.

    ¡°I thought so too, but I wasn¡¯t able to make any sense of it - I spent a few hours swapping symbols around. We took a man prisoner who looked like he was a commander - or, at least, in charge - in the hope that he had the cipher key. We were going to use enchantments on his mind, see what we couldn¡¯t draw out, but¡­ well, the effects of the cast degrade over multiple uses. You¡¯re less likely to actually get the truth, and that¡¯s a pain in itself. I didn¡¯t want to misspend our leverage, so I wanted to check with you first.¡±

    ¡°I see. The presence of encoded orders like this begs a few questions, foremost of which is ¡®why is this at a village.¡¯ A trap, or something more? If that¡¯s the case, they would want a relatively unsecure code. I don¡¯t imagine this being difficult. Let me think. I suppose I just need to find the starting pronoun. Once I do that, everything else should fall into place.¡±

    Renner drew herself out of her chair, wandering over to one of the side tables in the room to retrieve ink and parchment. Returning to the table, she laidd out her equipment and read over the scroll in detail.

    Only twenty four symbols in total, so likely written in our tongue. Tutulian requires too many when written naturally- ah, it might be phonetic though¡­ No, this is our speech. The same pattern of three symbols is repeated seven times here: elemental water, brimstone, and a dash. Unlikely to be referring to a single gender each time unless it was the neuter pronoun. Well, there¡¯s three letters decoded. If it¡¯s neutral, it¡¯s possible that this includes locations.

    Renner looked away from the scroll, and penned the seven opening words of each sentence on the blank page she had laid out, then inlaid the individual letters she had decoded in their matching spots. She began to look for common sentence fragments, proposing and rejecting several combinations. Typical phrases, the words for directions, and frequent patterns of punctuation were all missing from the encoded page. Renner pulled her mouth to the side, unsure what she was missing.

    Is this not one-to-one? That would be a more complex code, but methods of cyclical encryption wouldn¡¯t preserve seven identical starting pronouns. Were those written to mislead me? Maybe.

    Looking at a particularly thick patch of vowels, she suddenly came to a realization.

    Ah, the phrase that slots in there is ¡°all this was as it was told.¡± My Gods, this is all literary references, isn¡¯t it? The code here is dual layered: both the script and what that script contains.

    With the letters that phrase provided, the code broke. Renner swiftly divined the remaining substitutions, fully accounting for all twenty-four symbols and their associated letters. From there, she swiftly transcribed the remainder of the scroll into plaintext. Each entry in the note was some combination of substitution cipher and literary reference, numbers written out by their spellings rather than numerals. The three sharing her table looked on with fascination as she worked, the steady pace of her stylus unwavering as she finished writing out the raw words.

    ¡°So didst the lode waver in the eve of the sun¡¯s set, ere the sunbound flow twice-fold, and so came the place of the women of the night. All this was as it was told.¡± The lode, north; the sunbound flow, a west flowing river; twice-fold, two blocks; women of the night. This is in reference to the brothel in this city, the one just north of the Kerene River. Still, who among Eight Fingers would have been able to read something like this and understand it? That text is positively scriptural in style.

    Surely Eight Fingers doesn¡¯t have that many literate underlings. Ah, it''s as if this document was meant to be seen by the educated, which means it was written by someone of a similar stripe. Wonderful, this is bait. I¡¯m getting ahead of myself; solve what remains, Chardelon.

    She dismantled the next six entries with ease, each some reference to a new location: the aforementioned brothel, a Security division compound, a manor for the that served as a waystation for the Smuggling division, a merchant¡¯s venue under purview of the Banking division, a Gambling division high-bid cards table, a hideout for the Assassination division, and a warehouse stowing the take of the Larceny division. An odd sense of excitement began to fill her chest; this variety in targets - one per division, except Narcotics - couldn¡¯t have been unintentional.

    ¡°This is a simple imperial cipher, one character per symbol; easy to break. That was just the symbols though, everything underneath was, as it were, literary references. Fortunately, each one was in our tongue, and none were too complex. Had they started quoting the Imperial canon at us, it would be a different story; I don¡¯t know about you, Lakyus, but I haven¡¯t done the shallowest foray into Baharuthian books. After that, it¡¯s just a matter of iterating, eliminating duplicate symbols, and actually writing it all out. Anyone could break this, at least if they worked hard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, you make it sound easy; but wouldn¡¯t you need to know our written language in absurd detail?¡±

    ¡°Well, again, these are literary references - many from popular myths. That rules out everything flowery, and they can¡¯t use words that are too complex to boot. Not everyone has read things either, so they¡¯d have to make it simple enough for even a child. That narrows things down a lot.¡±

    Renner finished writing the rest of the decrypted locations, dropping her quill back in her inkwell with no small amount of aplomb and handing the solved scroll to Lakyus.

    ¡°It¡¯s done. Again, just a bunch of book references,¡±

    ¡°These are base locations?¡±

    ¡°And the like. I suppose that confirms my previous suspicion. There is no reason why this should have been there other than as bait.¡±

    ¡°Bait? You think they intend to lure us in?¡±

    ¡°It seems unlikely. My thought process goes something like this: Eight Fingers is too decentralized; this document is too important to be left where it was. So this should be information about the other seven groups- er, divisions? In any case, this is chaff: a way to shed heat by deliberately leaking information on everyone besides themselves - Narcotics - to outside enemies. Rather, this is meant for us.¡±

    These are death throes, a desperate move to buy time before we close the book on them. Narcotics is close to collapse, and considering they were the most robust of the organizations, the rest must be in similar straits. Ah, I¡¯m close. I¡¯m so close. I can taste victory in the air. Wonderful.

    ¡°Are you saying that they¡¯re willing to compromise every other division in the organization to¡­ what, buy time? It¡¯s insane!¡±

    ¡°Something like that. While we are already moving cautiously, we¡¯d best not leap ahead on this - only the Gods know what could go wrong if we try to seize upon too many targets in sequence.¡±

    ¡°So what should we do about that brothel? Everything I¡¯ve heard from prisoners suggests it¡¯s a vile place. Out of any of these, we should hit that first. Your Highness, there¡¯s no reason to do this above board, right? Half the city guard commissioners receive that organization¡¯s coin; why not just hit it ourselves? It¡¯ll be okay as long as we find evidence, right? And besides, if the slave trading division really is running that brothel, then hitting it hard and fast should shock their transit for a time. Plus, who knows what other traitors we¡¯ll dredge up? Collaborators.¡±

    Renner snagged. Of every location listed, that was the one she had intended to avoid.

    The political crisis that striking that place would cause is unimaginable. Uncountable numbers of men from both sides of the faction divide have been there, indulged in¡­ blacker pleasures. Records there would reveal names, and I can¡¯t have a Count or a Marquis suddenly outed as a murderer - Gods forbid Lakyus and company discover someone in the act, or worse, some of the slaves talk. Perhaps if I needed blackmail material, it would be worth hitting simply to retrieve information, but I can simply fabricate anything I need and use the Blue Roses to plant it. No, assaulting it is absolutely untenable. Ward her off.

    ¡°You might be right, Lakyus, but won¡¯t it inconvenience your house? I find it difficult to act on this point because of that. The same thing goes for the rest of the Blue Roses, too much political exposure; but it¡¯s not as if I can send - say - Climb in there alone.¡±

    ¡°I apologize, Your Highness, for my lack of strength.¡±

    Eh? Oh, that¡¯s quite sweet.

    ¡°No, no! Forgive me, Climb. That wasn¡¯t what I meant at all. It¡¯s the only remaining slave brothel in the Royal Capital, and¡­ well, it likely has many supporters in high places. I trust you, Climb, and I know how hard you work for me, but I won¡¯t wantonly put you in danger. The thought of something happening to you, it¡¯s overwhelming. This isn¡¯t a request, but an order. If anything happened to you¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t know what I would do.¡±

    A look of disappointment crossed Lakyus¡¯s face, her staring off into the distance for a time before shaking her head and turning back to Renner. A glimmer of suspicion lingered in the eyes of her friend, something Renner chose not to take as a coincidence, but as a warning.

    Perhaps I was wrong earlier. I won¡¯t be able to drag this out to the equinox. No, this needs to end. This needs to end quickly. She¡¯s hollowed out, bitter. She sees my reasoning for not wanting to attack, and yet struggles against it. Unless I manage her carefully, she will. You tread dangerous waters, Chardelon. Take care not to drown in your own hubris.

    ¡°Another thing. Tina managed to listen in on a conversation two villages ago. She managed to overhear the names of two captains, as well as a bevy of ¡®nobles¡¯ in bed with the enemy. We haven¡¯t searched their manors for evidence yet, but once we do, we¡¯ll confirm it.

    ¡°Which ones?¡±

    ¡°The Barons Yilra, Ulovan, Venthris, Rellent, Laqruis, Philsef-¡±

    ¡°That man¡¯s daughter is one of my maids.¡±

    ¡°Hm? Is she now? Well, I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s a spy sent against you, maybe against the palace in general. I can¡¯t imagine you being targeted specifically, but still, be careful. Though, maybe it¡¯s just social advancement?¡±

    ¡°Mm, perhaps. Thank you for the warning. Well, with that out of the way, I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s anything left to discuss. Climb, you also have to keep that in mind. Be careful around the maids.¡±

    Not that I want you near them anyway. You¡¯re mine, Climb. Mine alone.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    I suppose it goes both ways. As you are mine, I am yours. You have captured me, as I did you. Your unwavering patron, your stalwart advocate, your shepard. I am those things to you. I will always be those things.

    ¡°Then, what to do with these ¡®chaff locations¡¯, as you called them? See what other orders are in that document, even if hidden between the lines? Ah, actually, Renner, would you mind lending me Climb? I need to borrow the services of a footman, and there¡¯s no one I¡¯d trust more.¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (15)

    The dysrhythmic clacks of cartwheels repeatedly broke Hilma¡¯s train of thought, her mind scattered and disorganized.

    This went horribly. What the fuck is wrong with Cocco Doll? Why is he hiring Six Arms? What could possibly be that bad?

    She was riding back to her manor, jostling side to side in the cabin with every new stone the wheels struck in the road below. This was a new cart, she having ditched her old one in a city warehouse on the off chance it could be traced back to her. Given that she was crunched for coin, it was sparse, with no internal furnishing besides bare wooden benches, and lacking dampeners in the undercarriage to absorb the bumps in the road. The ride was miserable; with a particularly violent lurch, Hilma was sent onto her side.

    ¡°Domina tutus es?¡±

    ¡°Valeo, valeo¡­ Fuck.¡±

    The man who sat across from her nodded, straightening himself in his seat. This exchange did not occur in the tongue of the Kingdom; rather, in Imperial. Hilma had hired a worker team out of Baharuth, "Mortua Viperarum": three bladesmen, a pyromancer, and a skulk. All were ex-army, and that rugged essence of men who had dragged themselves through a decade of dispossessions, deforcements, and decimations dripped off them. Aside from the man in the cabin, the remaining two swordsmen had been ordered to vanguard and tail her cart at a distance, with the skulk and wizard sent to track the movements of the Blue Roses, reporting their position every two-hours. The man sat across from her was the team''s leader, a veteran by the name of Luca Belloc. Their hiring was a calculated expense, a bet that a group untied to the Kingdom wouldn¡¯t create noise when placed under her employ. If her enemy really was Baharuth, then the point was moot; but if they were - as she suspected - entirely based in Re-Estize, the chance of rumors on the matter reaching their ears was slim to none.

    I can¡¯t imagine what could cause him to need Zero. I don¡¯t think the Blue Roses hit any of his bases recently. The brothel in the city, maybe? ¡°A woman who was supposed to be eliminated,¡± an escaped slave? That would explain his urgency - ¡°send a man over right away¡± and all - but you can just hire any silver-a-standard assassin for that. She must be under the protection of someone already, someone he thinks Six Arms is necessary to challenge. Shit, she must be in Lakyus¡¯s care then. Just how exposed is he by her? He¡¯s desperate.

    Doll¡¯s request was foreboding. She had no love for the man, but to see his work buckle entirely from an external campaign was a terrifying experience. It could happen to her. It was happening to her. Last night proved that.

    They have the bait; they have to have it! Fuck, I wish they would have just taken it rather than killing the wizard and razing the whole place, but at least they have the list. Seven locations. They¡¯ll hit one soon.

    Hilma had made ten copies of the same note, then had them placed at growing locations of hers around the country. Inscribing one base, hideout, or establishment from every other division, she hoped her opponents would see it for the bargain it was and accept it, using the next month or so to strike those targets instead of her own bases. This would give Hilma time; time to turn round and face the Blue Roses, or failing that, time to get out of dodge.

    Of all the spots in the city, the compound is the best place to end them. Pikemen on the grounds themselves, archers and casters on the roof; bait them into the courtyard, exhaust their resources methodically in a slow fight, tire them out; when they make to retreat, deploy six arms. Even if those useless bastards couldn¡¯t kill Stronoff, they¡¯d be able to bury those bitches who-

    ¡°Domina, ''Blue Roses'' Valencia sunt.¡±

    ¡°Serva me missae.¡±

    The message spell undid, the link snapped off at the source.

    As if on cue. They¡¯ve gone to the palace to crack the message. I can confirm, then, that¡¯s where they go to process intelligence. Whom they¡¯re meeting is still a mystery, though. I¡¯m sure the records hold this was for a visit with the princess. It¡¯s not Theiern - at least if it is, he¡¯s holding his cards so tightly to his chest I haven¡¯t found a hint of his activities. As such, it can¡¯t be any of the Marshals, not Helgrave, or any of the Lieutenant-Marshals Lazzak, Rolland, or Hueg; none of them attend the palace frequently enough. Vellen is in Boullope¡¯s pocket, and while I could see him working against me, Lakyus and company did foil his plans. It¡¯s not Ramposa himself, is it? He would certainly take action against us, but he wouldn¡¯t handle that himself; he¡¯d pass it to Vellen, or to Urovana, who would then pass it to Theiern, whom I''ve already ruled out. Zanac? He always had a witty streak, but this feels slightly above him. He¡¯s a second prince who¡¯s yet to do significant campaigning, I don¡¯t see why he¡¯d start with fighting criminals now. At this rate, it might as well be Renner herself.

    She felt another sharp lurch as her cart was dragged out of the mud and onto paved road - the meeting location of the Eight Fingers council nestled deep in the outer slums of Re-Estize. This route was scorched into Hilma''s mind, and by this jerk alone, she knew exactly where she was. It wasn''t the main east-west thoroughfare, rather, a sub-arterial road that led to it; as such, that it had been paved at all was through the advocacy of Princess Renner. It was an odd moment of serendipity for Hilma, and in its wake, she felt a growing sense of unease.

    What if it is Renner?

    The moment hung, Hilma struggling to dismiss the thought. Often, her intuition would guide her to dismiss frivolous ideas before she could actually divine why they were incorrect, a sensation at the back of her head that told her what she was considering was absurd. She did not experience this now - no forewarning, no hilarity. She felt all at once gripped by a cool feeling; the steady knowledge that she had missed the obvious.

    I always perceived her as dull¡­ or have I?

    Worse feelings came; the realization that she had merely parroted the opinions of others, rather than develop her own.

    Her policies always had some sense to them, even when they impede operations for me. Had her proposal to pave the highways and patrol them passed - even with losses to inspections - I would probably have broken even; any above-board merchants would have made profits. Why did I dismiss her? Rumors from the nobility. They hate her. She''s part of the setup for half their jokes about House Vaiself, and a punchline for the rest.

    The cart came to a halt, Hilma sliding forward slightly in her seat. They had arrived at the main road, the rider waiting to turn into it. Noises filtered in muffled; clacks of other carts, the sounds of other hooves beating against the stone; the babblings of merchants and the chatter of citizens.

    The maids¡¯ talk really does suggest she''s an idiot, though, unable to soothsay the basics¡­ but it¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t acted stupid in the past to hide my own intentions. I''ve killed many a man that way, and at least a few women. If she is witty, why does she act, well, witless in her personal life? Kicks? Possible, or maybe some other machination. Hm, likely the latter. Is she the stalker breathing down my neck?

    Hilma cocked her head slightly, gently rapping her fingers against the wooden benches. This question felt stranger than the last, an ask that meant not only embracing the words previous, but also completely rejecting the nobility¡¯s opinions.

    Invert the problem. What prevents her from being their sixth member? Time? Plenty of it between her duties, no. Intelligence? Assuming no. Access to funds? No. Debts? None I know about. Privacy? Maid talk has it she''s independent in her personal life, even does her own makeup - I don''t even do that, no. Lack of contact with Blue Roses? Fuck, no. There really are no problems, are there? Then, okay, when did they meet?

    Hilma retailed the dates the Blue Roses had visited the palace, then immediately realized the pointlessness of doing so. She had cross-referenced the Blue Roses meetings at the palace with now well over a dozen individuals, having long since memorized those dates from sheer repetition. Of course, Renner had been every one of those meetings, considering she was the cover. Hilma felt profoundly stupid.

    I''ve spent months weaving conspiracies from the fucking air, only to dismiss the simplest answer? How? Lords above, I¡¯ve doomed myself over, haven¡¯t I?

    She felt a sudden discomfort in her own skin, a deep awareness of the qualia that enveloped her. The air was soaked, muggy and hot. Turbid breaths lodged in her mouth, never cooling however much she breathed. The space was tight, the cart¡¯s size shrinking. It was dark, a weaker light casting the space in sicklier color. She had no cushions upon which to rest, no soft things to cling to. Worse, she had already burned through her supply of pipeweed earlier in a nervous fit. She had an urge to get out, a desire to walk out the door to the carriage and run. She knew this would do nothing, the heat of the day outside would only be greater than that inside the carriage; the light, even if not scorching, would set her ablaze in a world of unpleasant sensation. Intense things came to mind then: images of herself being spotted, identified by her enemy. Lo, new dreads not simply of divisional collapse, but her death as well.

    Calm down. Just, calm down. It''s not as if I have any hard evidence, do I? I have no letters, no talk from the maids to suggest this; I don¡¯t have any reports from Boullope or Vellen. It¡¯s just intuition at this point. Just¡­ intuition. Does she have motive? With her moniker, perhaps so. Is this why Barbro went into a mad fit of rage to kill her that night? I can¡¯t see him knowing that and not leaking that somehow, he doesn¡¯t have enough of a mind to- Wait, Gods above, Keveleos rescued her that night!

    Hilma¡¯s lips split with a sharp inhale.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    They¡¯re in league!? They would have had time together alone. How did I miss that? Was that a coincidence or was it planned on either side? Keveleos obviously knew something was going to happen, that¡¯s why he was there to protect his marks. By the will of the six, that¡¯s why he asked me to cut off payments to Barbro. It was on her demand, wasn¡¯t it? There¡¯s only one thing that could be.

    ¡°Domina?¡±

    Hilma realized her shock had worked its way into her body-language, Luca having taken note. The vehicle had yet to resume its motion, and she realized that this presented an opportunity. She tried to find words and failed, before flicking her finger to the sliding window behind his head.

    Is she shooting for the crown? With everything she¡¯s proposed, she¡¯d have a base of support among the people - them and the merchants: roads between cities funded by the crown, subsidies to Adventurers Guild patrols on those roads, it¡¯s all just a ploy for public love. We¡¯re to be a political victory for her. It would be Queen Theiere the first.

    Luca nodded, then turned round in his seat and slid the window open. The back of the driver stiffened as it came into view, his head bobbing down a moment later to look at her.

    ¡°Piter, don¡¯t take me home. The Six Arms compound, posthaste.¡±

    ¡°You want me to take the thoroughfare?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to pass the central inspection point.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not merchant traffic, they won''t stop us. Luca-¡±

    ¡°Viri mei sequentur.¡±

    ¡°Gratias.¡±

    I don¡¯t see how she could get it. She wants to seize the throne. Her brothers need to be out of the way - rather, chased down and killed. Can she do that without sparking war? I wouldn¡¯t see how, but she obviously believes she can. God, a princess running her own war against Eight Fingers. Lords above, how did I end on the wrong side of a woman like her?

    What do I do? For one, abandon Barbro entirely. No more coin, no more contact at all. He wouldn''t dare expose us to the authorities either, bogarting or begrudging our men in the public eye is a possibility. Throw my support behind any of the remaining four remaining Ryles. She¡¯s out of the question, but her second brother is the best choice beyond her - Vena and Lulara are out of the political game entirely. Shame, I¡¯m sure it would be easier to entrap one of them in a vice. It doesn¡¯t matter. I can win this.

    The cart once again began to move, pulling forward in a gentle leftward curve.

    I need her dead. I need her dead now.

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 3]

    Renner absentmindedly flicked her nails. She was decidedly displeased.

    No matter what I do, I can¡¯t seem to explain how this happened.

    Her eyes were on the scattered vellum in front of her; nine separate sheets, each filled front and back with her penmanship, covered her table. Neat rows of formulae lined each, breaking at the edge of each page and wrapping around the next row down with a flair. Much of it was step by step, the littlest of additions, summations, or products accounted for in the margins. That it was in such detail spoke to the depths of her frustration, every step she typically leapt past exactingly recorded.

    None of this math resolves. Rather, all of it resolves, but my answer is incorrect.

    After two long months of research, her delve into magical theory was finally coming to an end. She, as was her wont, had taken the whole subject from its fundamentals, building up from pure magic theory rather than instruction and practice. With basic knowledge of theory, she had then moved onto general forays in the schools of divination, enchantment, and illusion - and shallower explorations of the rest. There were a few subjects of note: defense against remote viewing, counterscrying, the spying of illusions, identification of messengers, the evasion of charms, and shirking of domination. This was all to defeat arcane tradecraft, and though this was the ostensible extent of her purpose, she had looked for a culminating example for some time - a capstone problem to tie her fields of study together.

    The Vampiric Crisis seemed to offer just that; out of all the tales of Momon ¡°The Black¡± and the ¡°Beautiful Princess¡± Nabe, their defeat of Honyopenyoko through use of a spell-sealing crystal provided a suitably interesting tale and a downright exotic arcane theory problem. As the story went, when summoned to the guild in E-Rantel, he had spoken that the vampire - almost certainly a lord of its kind - was undefeatable by all but him, and when challenged on this point, had produced an iridescent azure crystal in response. This, when inspected by the master of the city¡¯s Magicians¡¯ guild, was confirmed - true to Momon¡¯s word - to hold magic of the eighth tier.

    Perhaps this scale is above my understanding. It¡¯s a terrifying thing, isn¡¯t it? Even the servants of the Gods never had such power. That subject is a springtrap of its own.

    Darkness, along with another team named Kralgra, had thus ventured northward, seeking and doing battle with the vampire in the depths of the woods. Only Darkness returned, and when the guild auditors arrived at the site to evaluate Momon¡¯s performance, found a sight that defied reason. A section of the woods had not simply been mangled in the contest, but obliterated, the ground not simply scorched, but turned to sand. What spell the crystal actually held was never something Momon elaborated on, though he did later say that the destruction had been as a result of the crystal itself, rather than the cast stored inside. Thus, Renner had endeavored to demonstrate how such an event had come to pass.

    To review. Identify the magical effect, describe the effect, find its power, solve for the actual efficiency - though it''s just the full hundred percent here - then calculate the enthalpy of disintegration.

    From a practice perspective, the problem included everything. Arcane statics, discretized step theory, dynamic genesis, and crystallography. What the crystal was made of Renner had no way of knowing, but transmutation effects required certain outsets in mana, things she could use to then solve for the magical densities of the material itself. Doing this had given her a reasonable figure, yet, when she attempted to then apply this to a crystalline lattice, she hit a wall.

    As far as these calculations go, there¡¯s absolutely no reason for the magical outpouring. My numbers are all wrong. There should be a mana surplus for the effect, and I simply cannot find one. Tease them as I might, I can¡¯t get these equations to produce an exomanatic result. It''s as if the decomposition wasn¡¯t self-sustaining, rather, driven by the release of the spell; put simply, it¡¯s as if the crystal never exploded at all. I suppose with the eighth tier of magic, anything is possible. Perhaps all these equations strain and fall apart with such surges of power. Ah, Chardelon, you¡¯re worthless at magic, aren¡¯t you?

    Her annoyance at the math finally bit back, Renner feeling her frustration being turned round to aim inward.

    I wonder what it would be like to have power like that. The ability to apparate things; sling bolts of lightning. I can¡¯t imagine it. Same goes for bladecraft, adventuring, or anything of the sort. I¡¯m unfit to be a heroine, no? Evileye said I did possess a flame, though it was vanishingly dim. It¡¯s an impossibility.

    She sighed, collected her efforts, and shoved them aside. Her bitterness at the subject was only half-sincere, the rest spurred on not by genuine dismay at her inability, but an older, more personal fear. Boredom came to her in stages, each a new platform for discomforts, dysphonies, and dysphorias. She had since blown past the kind that kept her in her chair, eyes watching motes of dust caught in beams of sunlight float to the ground. Renner was in that sharp sort of pain, the tailings of a day that had long since seized and ground itself to pieces. She was no longer bored, she was in agony.

    I want him here.

    If given time, she could steel herself to his absence. It was a discomforting sensation, knowing he would be away for the next few hours, but it was something she was capable of bearing. However, such a sudden leave with a badly delayed return only served to aggravate the point.

    Gagaran and Evileye must have dragged him on some adventure.

    After a surprisingly enjoyable morning - concerns about Tina notwithstanding - the day had seen fit to drag on in a particularly languid way. Lakyus had decided to employ Climb as a footman to convey a message to Gagaran and Evileye to return to their improvised warehouse-cross-keep, this in preparation for additional action. It was a wholly sensible choice, neither of the visiting Blue Roses having the ability to cast Message at a level high enough to breach castle defenses, and the palace guards being too compromised for such a task. Renner had expected it to take, at most, to midday. Instead, it was nearly sunset, and he had yet to return.

    I loathe this. Do not deny me knowledge of such things. Would it really be such a bother to link to me and say ¡°Your Highness, we¡¯re taking him riding training,¡± or something to that effect? It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¡­

    Black drippings stained her mind now, that gentle fear reminding her that she would not have him. The fear ¡°she would not have¡± had been one of hers since childhood, the knowledge that all at once everything she had could be taken away, substituted, or replaced without her purview. That deep loneliness of a world where she was only seen, never listened to. Climb filled that void, and when she was with him, she could forget it. He had been gone long enough for that hollow to reopen, and she had gotten herself lodged deep within it. She struggled in the depths, desperately trying to drag herself up. She failed.

    What if Zanac and Raeven refuse me? What then? Do I have a follow up action to take?

    Renner expected herself to find some path forward immediately, some logical iteration of her previous plot to account for this failure. Her mind spun, yet produced no answer. The tension rose. Almost always, something obvious would leap out, a new path forward to take her toward her goal. That did not happen now. She was all at once overcome with the knowledge that she was three stories in the air and standing on nothing.

    Could I¡­ could I perhaps¡­ no. I¡¯m impotent. Still, after so much, I¡¯m impotent. If they reject my offer, I could turn to no one. Anyone besides him, and I would be subject to the gales of my house and the factions. I would be swept by it, thrown into rocks, the claws of trees¡­ the claws of Counts. I would find purchase there, but Climb would not come. Perhaps Jircniv if the nation is to be swept off its feet come autumn. No, I would have nothing to offer except my blood. I would be used to slake a blade, and lo would my end come.

    I would slink away into the nothingness, never to be dredged again from that inviolate morass of minor nobles. The equinox will come, and my father, in his righteous sense of duty to his unmarried sixteen-year-old daughter will secure for her a future; one that will deny her her joy, yet be the best thing possible for her at her age. She would be sent spinning then into the bile, left to sink in the ooze, denied her¡­ her love.

    Why consider the nothingness when I can instead embrace the urblack? Would I be able to turn my hands against myself, or would I just shed away, dyeing a gully red with a slurry once named Renner. I wish to rot. I wish to distend, to warp, to fold in on myself like parchment tossed into a hearth. I wish to undo, to tear and sunder and rip and fray and shear and shatter and break and dash and dust and burn and burn and burn again and again until all that was once was me is cast to the wind along with the memory of the loss.

    The Gods would reject me, but the Gods are dead, idolatries of the mind no less heinous than what keeps their images from being graven into stone or hewn in glass. I care nothing for their whims, their prancing and shaping of the world. Why mankind? Why not another? Why was I born amidst this sea? One as turbid, tumultuous, toxic as those who are alike in the form of their flesh to me? Why am I consanguineous to that which I am not alike to? Why am I forced to sit alongside them, to call them brother, sister, father, cousin? It¡¯s an abomination, a base sin worse than the castings of the Demon Gods. Damn the world. Damn the kingdom. Damn it all to be rent, masticated, and torn to bits. Damn it all to-

    A knock. Renner snapped herself back together as the door opened, brushing away what she could as she drew her face out of its neutral quiver. A maid walked in, taking no more than two steps in from the door before bowing and speaking.

    ¡°Your Highness, your bodyguard has returned. I am to report that he has done battle.¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (16)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 3]

    I did it. I can¡¯t believe I did it. I charged the brothel.

    Climb¡¯s face was smattered with a nervous smile. Perhaps if his accomplishment had been less impressive, he could have worn a stoic and dour expression; if it had been done on the bespoke orders of his mistress, he could have worn a confident and gregarious one. Instead, he was stuck in the gap, unable to calm his shaking and exhausted body; a sort of crashing energy swept him in anxiety and swelling pride.

    Gods, I¡¯m going to make so much trouble for her, aren¡¯t I? I guess I already have. She¡¯ll- she¡¯ll be okay with it, won¡¯t she? She will, I¡¯m certain of it. She¡¯ll understand. I needed to do it.

    Climb¡¯s day had been entirely exceptional. After finishing his errand to Gagaran and Evileye at the Platinum Horde Inn, he encountered, on the return trip, a boy accosted by a gang of men. There, a man dressed as a butler and Climb beat back the attackers and doused the boy in a healing potion, respectively. As a consequence of this rescue, Climb had been drawn into an adventure, this including: a training to overcome his fear of death by the butler, Sebas; a meeting with the esteemed Seeker of Martial Arts, Brain Unglaus; immediately becoming a brother-in-arms to both men when assaulted by a quintet of assassins; proceeding to raid the brothel first mentioned to Climb but hours prior in Renner¡¯s meeting with Lakyus; and all culminating in a one-on-one duel with the infamous phantomancer of Six Arms. Lo, did Climb then return to the fortress having nearly died twice, waylaid two men himself, taken a pair of prisoners of unbound value to his Mistress¡¯s war, and gained two comrades who were both friends and sources of envy alike.

    Sebas, Brain, thank you.

    Upon his return to the castle, he had immediately been taken aside, ordered to disarm, and placed under arrest. This was little more than a formality - Climb had cooperated with the entire process - but one nonetheless necessitated by his tardiness. His absence had not escaped notice, he having not made the official start of his duty-shift. Such occurrences were common enough, typically the result of Renner sending him on some quest, and then that message failing to make its way to the officer on-duty. As a result, his treatment had been mostly casual, though the fact that he was bloodied starkened the matter somewhat. Still, this was a failure to report, and as a result, a general - though impotent - threat of being charged with desertion now hung over his head. Currently, he was alone in a windowless interrogation room deep within Ro-Lante, waiting for the on-duty commander, Knight-Officer Retha.

    I guess that¡¯s four times I¡¯ve almost died now. Twice today, the fight with Succulent, that training with Sebas¡­ does that count? He said I might die, but¡­ yes, I would have. Had I flinched, I think he- he might have¡­ Yeah, twice today. Before with Teloran, when he cracked my armor. And then that time when I was a child; when she saved me. Is- is that normal? Ekhan talks¡­ would talk about some of the nasty scuffles he saw on the street, but those were always between others.

    On a flit, Climb reached around to touch his backside, finding the tatter in his shirt where Succulent had pierced him. Catching it with his thumb, he wiggled it in, running it along the broken links in his chain shirt. He touched the exit point with his other hand, feeling the incongruous contrast between the breaches and his unmarred flesh. It was too surreal for him to handle, and he returned his hands to his side before he became too discombobulated.

    Every time I¡¯ve survived, it¡¯s been because others have saved me, hasn¡¯t it? Brain saving me in that scrape, Sebas sparing me, Lakyus having given me this armor, Renner giving me¡­ well, everything. What am I going to do? How can I pay them back? Well, that¡¯s the problem. None of them want repayment.

    Climb lightly sighed, then huffed in amusement. His life was starting to feel a little absurd.

    It was strange, that duel with Teloran. I was so scared then. Scared she would die. Scared I would. Now- now, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be afraid at all. What do you even call that? A warrior¡¯s outlook? Am I already a veteran? Maybe. I know I wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve panicked, and that¡¯s got to count for something. Wait, should I pray for them? Would that work to thank them? How do I even do that?

    Climb thought for a moment. Climb knew something of the Gods - namely, that there were four of them, and that they created the world and gave it unto humanity - but they so rarely entered his daily life. Attendance in the fortress chapel had never been mandated by his mistress, nor so much as suggested to him by any of his superiors. He had read some of the religious texts - mostly the Igniteuch - and while he could recite the common parables, anything beyond that became muddled and fuzzy. Some of his fellow guards would pray when they ate, and Climb picked up the practice for a time, only to stop when he realized neither Renner nor - more tellingly - Lakyus did. There was a grand sort of disinterest in the topic, something that never quite sat right with Climb; alas, his mistress was a participant in this and his mistress was always right, so he pushed the subject out of his mind. This willful ignorance did him no good now, and he was left completely unsure of what to do, or how to say it.

    "Uh¡­"

    Which God should I pray to? If I''m talking about death¡­ probably Earth, right? What is one of his names? He of the bountiful¡­ dirt - that¡¯s not right. Bountiful ground? Oh wait, it¡¯s soil. I guess I should start.

    ¡°He of the Bountiful Soil, I¡­¡±

    Crap! What is it again? What does Lakyus always say? Uh, I beg by the¡­ uh¡­ oh!

    ¡°I stand by- er, o¡¯er your fields to share my request and to thank¡­ to extend my gratitude to those who have aided me. I wanted to- um, to thank you for today. I wish¡­ I wish to thank you for letting me meet Sebas and Brain. Both of them are brave and honorable men, and I pray that you will protect them, and give them guidance. They¡­ they both helped me so much. I never could have charged that place myself. The training Sebas gave me¡­ I- I don¡¯t know what I would have done without it.

    For Brain, please guide him to a better place. I know he carries guilt from his time as a sellsword, and- and maybe he did evil things then, but he¡¯s not an evil man. I¡¯m sure of it. For Sebas, please protect him and Tuare from any further attacks by Eight Fingers - well, not that he needs protecting, but please keep him safe anyway.

    If- if I were to die in Her Highness Renner¡¯s service, please protect her too. Please protect her! That¡¯s what I want. I wish for her to be safe, a-and when she gets her future husband, that he treats her well. Please do that for me, He of the Weathered Rock. Thank you, thank you. Oh, and those women; if-¡±

    The door was thrown open in that moment, Climb flinching in his chair as he instinctually rallied his body¡¯s energy. This was for naught, as it was Knight Retha who strode in. Climb shot from his chair, cutting off his words with a small pang of regret.

    "Sir."

    "At ease."

    Climb drew back down into his seat, yet Knight Retha did not enter the room. He stayed holding the door, looking out. After a moment, he spoke.

    ¡°Marshal, if I could request that you needn¡¯t bother-¡±

    Another man entered the room. He was older, in his late fifties, what hair remained on his balding head drizzled with gray. He bore neither equipment or armor on his body, rather, a uniform. At his hip was a sword. This was Knight-Marshall Helgrave, Jelka¡¯s replacement as Defense Coordinator. Climb fought the urge to leap out of his seat again, Retha making a staying motion as he closed the door.

    ¡°Myself with this matter? If I was your position, I would not presume my commander¡¯s course of action.¡±

    ¡°Understood sir.¡±

    What is he doing here? Isn¡¯t it just past sunset? He shouldn''t be on duty. I mean, I know Jelka would stay up some times, but that was for balls or other events. Is¡­ is this going to be a problem?

    Both men took their seats, sitting across the table from Climb. Helgrave eyed him up keenly, squinting slightly as he did.

    ¡°Climb, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir, that¡¯s correct.¡±

    ¡°Family name?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one sir.¡±

    ¡°Right. I see. Then, Climb, why have you failed to report to your post?¡±

    Climb had already given a rough outline to the palace knights who met him upon his return; he had, however, left out the details of Sebas and Tuare, this to shield their involvement as they fled the city.

    ¡°Sir, I was raiding a brothel.¡±

    Wait, that came out all wrong!

    ¡°Raiding a brothel? Are you saying that a visit to a whorehouse is-¡±

    ¡°No! Sir, I-"

    "I don''t appreciate being interrupted, Climb."

    "My apologies, Sir."

    "Do you mind explaining why burying yourself in a whore was of a higher priority than guarding the Golden Princess?"

    "Sir-"

    Retha¡¯s interjection was immediately cut off, pursing his lips as he stopped speaking.

    "Stop, I want to hear this from him."

    Sir, I- I was not¡­ soliciting women of the night. I- I assaulted an underground brothel.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    "Breached and charged it, sir."

    Helgrave paused, closing his mouth and staring at Climb. After five seconds without a blink, he twitched his gaze to Retha, who for his part was sitting ramrod straight and looking dead ahead, past Climb and into the wall behind him. As Retha offered nothing, wearing only a stoic expression on his face, Helgrave turned back to Climb and continued.

    "You were being literal?"

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    This was an inevitable question, one Climb had mentally drilled himself to answer on the way back to Ro-Lante.

    ¡°Sir, this brothel came up in discussions with Lady Aindra this morning. It¡¯s- er, it was run by the Slavery Division of Eight Fingers in the southern portion of the city, in the Rine district. They expressed their desire to have it destroyed. After being sent to summon Gagaran and Evileye of the Blue Rose, I found and attacked it on the return trip.¡±

    This was a rendition of events Climb felt incredibly proud of. He and Unglaus had constructed it as they dragged Cocco Doll and Succulent to the nearest guardhouse; by their standards, it was a masterwork of half-truth, intentional omission, and misleading statements that just so happened to fit the evidence at the site - give or take the ruin dealt by Sebas. It omitted his presence entirely, drawing the inevitable retaliation from the syndicate away from him and his saved slave; Unglaus¡¯s participation rendered the attack plausible anyway, and of the two prisoners they had taken, only one had been conscious to see Sebas, though he had been badly discombobulated. The thing that bothered Climb the most was invoking Lakyus¡¯s name, though she had expressed a desire to charge the place anyway. The best part of it was that Renner¡¯s name never came up at all, though if she chose to endorse it, nothing he said would contradict that. He fervently hoped that this would be enough.

    That ought to work, right?

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®was¡¯?¡±

    Climb sagged slightly on the inside.

    Dammit.

    ¡°Sir, I toppled it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Sir, slew the guards, freed the women there, and took two prisoners.¡±

    ¡°How many, how, and who?¡±

    ¡°There were a total of twenty-eight men on site. About sixteen to twenty of them were guards, eight clients, as well as Succulent of Six Arms, and Cocco Doll, head of the Slavery Division.¡±

    Helgrave¡¯s lips curled up, a cruel and sardonic smile growing on his face. He chuckled in complete disbelief. This was in contrast to Retha, whose lips parted and eyebrows raised in a combination of shock and growing awe. He nervously looked to Helgrave, then back to Climb, saying nothing and swallowing.

    He''s started to trust me more since the Black Night. I guess most of them have.

    ¡°And you did all this yourself?¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°No sir, I had the assistance of- of one other.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Brain Unglaus, sir.¡±

    ¡°Brain Unglaus? As in, the Brain Unglaus who pulled second place in the Grand Tournament, the legendary bladesman rivaled only by our warrior captain, the man who made a fabled travel southward to retrieve the sword he wields. That Brain Unglaus?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir¡­ To be honest, I only took down one man¡­ and I did duel Succulent, but I would have died if he did not save me. Frankly, he did most of the work.¡±

    Climb nervously huffed, embarrassed at how little he actually contributed.

    ¡°And where is Unglaus now?¡±

    ¡°To the Warrior-Captain¡¯s house, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Stronoff is involved in this?¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s just staying there.¡±

    At least, I think he¡¯s just staying there.

    ¡°And, after this raid?¡±

    ¡°We delivered those men to the nearest guard post, and I, after having my wounds tended, returned directly to here.¡±

    ¡°Your wounds?¡±

    Helgrave composure finally broke, and he burst out into laughter. Bringing his hand up, he burrowed his face in it, each gulp of air filling the room with more of his jubilation. Climb began to brood with a low anger, simmering underneath the surface as his visage became more and more stonelike. Retha - who, as far as Climb could tell, was starting to believe in his account - joined Climb in his frustration, sternly coughing into his fist. This seemed to send Helgrave into his own coughing fit, which drew on for a full half minute, before he quieted down and returned to facing forward.

    ¡°Climb, I wish to impress upon you the severity of your situation. I understand you are her highness¡¯s favored toy, but any lies, games, or foolishness now will have extreme consequences. What you have done constitutes a failure to report, or, it could be considered desertion. The former is less severe, and, when all is said and done, will simply result in you being permanently relieved of your duties. I hope I need not tell you the results of the latter. Now, with that established, tell me again - and this time tell me the truth - where were you and what did you do?¡±

    Helgrave''s words were simply unbelievable, and left Climb with no response. He had offhandedly asked Renner three weeks ago what she thought of Jelka''s replacement, and she had simply said that she was disappointed by the selection. Those words now seemed revelatory, and Climb began to roil with anger.

    Is- is he serious? By Gods, he is! He thinks I''m lying? I mean, I am about Sebas, but he thinks I was out doing¡­ doing things with women! Godsdammit! What am I going to do? Just- just say it again.

    ¡°Sir, along with Brain Unglaus, I assaulted the brothel run by the Slavery Division of Eight Fingers. We killed those guards present, freed those enslaved women, and took as prisoners both Succulent of Six Arms and Cocco Doll of the Slavery Division.¡±

    Helgrave coldly gazed at Climb, before sitting straight in his chair and waving absently with his hand.

    ¡°Alright. You¡¯ve made your bed, you may lie in it. Sir Retha, I want you to-¡±

    I¡¯ll show him, then.

    ¡°Sir, may I stand?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Sir, may I stand?¡±

    ¡°Why should I-¡±

    ¡°Sir, let him.¡±

    Retha¡¯s interjection seemed to stay Helgrave, and before he could muster a response, Climb stood up from his chair. He had not had time to wash, and his outfit was still fouled at and below the waist.

    ¡°Sir, in our duel, Succulent managed to land a mortal blow on me, stabbing me clean through from behind. As you can see, my chain shirt has been pierced through the front-¡±

    Climb brought his right hand to his shirt, splitting the tatter with his fingers, before pirouetting.

    ¡°And behind.¡±

    After a moment, Climb turned forward again, before collapsing into his seat. Helgrave shot his head to Retha, flicking his eyes back to Climb nervously.

    ¡°What station did you deliver the prisoners to?¡±

    ¡°The one in Rine, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Sir Retha, I want you to go there now and confirm they¡¯re holding prisoners.¡±

    ¡°Sir.¡±

    Retha sprung from his chair and - looking relieved - snapped a salute, marching out of the room posthaste. The eagerness of his actions seemed to have left Helgrave in the lurch, the sound of the door as it closed punctuating the moment. He hung for a second longer, before turning to Climb and blurting out his next words.

    ¡°You¡¯re bloodied.¡±

    ¡°Sir, I did not have time to clean myself. I did not wish to delay my return.¡±

    At this, Helgrave had nothing to say. A minute, then two dragged by in silence, neither man wishing to engage with the other. Climb¡¯s vindiction steadily morphed into vindication, Helgrave meeting him gaze for gaze, though with none of the fire his eyes once held. Footsteps were finally heard in the hall outside, and the door opened to reveal the recently departed man.

    ¡°Retha, I told you to-¡±

    ¡°Sir, the inspector in charge of the Rine district force is already here with one of his commissars.¡±

    He is?

    ¡°What, why?¡±

    ¡°To- to request a prisoner transfer, Sir.¡±

    ¡°On what grounds?¡±

    ¡°That they do not have the requisite security to be able to safely hold him, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Amptief Doll, Sir.¡±

    The silence roared.

    Was that all worth it? Pulling me in, questioning me?

    ¡°Go¡­ go ahead and authorize it.¡±

    ¡°SIr, based on the account Climb has given, this man is the head of an Eight Fingers division. Considering the previous assault they inflicted upon us, I wouldn¡¯t be comfortable signing my own name to the transfer papers.¡±

    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll be out in a moment, then.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Sir.¡±

    Retha saluted once again and moved to exit the room. As he left, he took a last look at Climb and nodded. Climb did so back, though his was a more muted motion. The door once again closed.

    ¡°Sir, I request to be released such that I may return to Her Highness¡¯s side.¡±

    ¡°And why do you want to do that?¡±

    ¡°Sir, I am supposed to be on duty.¡±

    ¡°Can you write?¡±

    Climb¡¯s eye twitched.

    ¡°Her Highness taught me to, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Compile a written report. I want everything that happened in writing.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Sign it. Once you do that, I¡¯ll have Her Highness countersign, then you may leave.¡±

    Helgrave stood, preparing to take his egress. As he made for the exit, Climb made his final interruption.

    ¡°Sir, I will require an inkwell and parchment.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡±

    The latch clicked open, then shut. Climb buried his face in his palms.

    ¡ª

    He did it. I can¡¯t believe he did it. He charged the brothel.

    Twenty-eight dead; sixteen rescued; two captured. With this, the day decided to throw itself end over end, blundering headlong into the night and careening through Renner¡¯s schemes.

    These figures are unimaginable. I have nothing for this. I just¡­ what?

    The details he had provided had an air of complete unreality to them. Worse, his descriptions had been so totally incoherent - this, for the events had been so totally arousing for him - that it was impossible to draw anything of meaning from them. Put simply, Renner could not understand what, how, or why Climb¡¯s day happened as it did. This was a rare failure, and one that necessitated a shift in her priorities: understanding was no longer required; what mattered most was capitalizing on this victory.

    How did he even know where the brothel was located? I never shared that with him. Actually, this is precisely why I never did; the risk of him running off and doing just something like this - however slim I thought it at the time - was always a threat. He must have spied my notes without looking, yet he would have done it backward or from the side - I never turned my sheet around. Chardelon, did you commit the offense of letting information slip then sin twofold by forgetting about it? Though, that¡¯s not the most puzzling detail here. That would be the fact that he¡¯s lying.

    Climb was not a confident writer, resorting to a clipped sort of prose that left far too much to the imagination with none of the flair necessary to spark it. It had all the usual weaknesses Renner found in the unerudite: the sorts of phrases long since stripped of their potency by overuse; an absence of rhetoric; little narrative direction or control; the misunderstanding that reporting fact was more important than leading the reader to what you wanted them to believe. As he did when he spoke, when confronted with some uncomfortable reality, he resorted to a sort of stoic silence, nodding or saying ¡°yes, Your Highness.¡± When this principle was brought to his writing, his sparse style turned downright staccato. The account of his day she had now read was positively riddled with such holes, Climb spouting half-truths, fibs, or outright deceptions every other sentence. Renner was left with a slippery discomfort that she couldn¡¯t quite get her hands on, another issue she simply tabled.

    I do not think that the behavior of sellswords has changed so much as for them to participate in charnel charity. What could he have done to convince Brain Unglaus to side with him? Further, what could compel him to hide it? Is there a third party here, or perhaps an organization? I suppose it''s possible¡­ no, probable from these notes. Still, I have no sense for omissions of this sort. They exist, yes, but specifically where in here I do not know; what can a princess be expected to know of sword combat?

    Renner sighed, picked up her quill and scratched out a line, penning a replacement in the margins. This was one of a dozen similarly stuffed betwixt Climb¡¯s methodical print, her flowery revisions fixing the problems Climb had left in his story. Though she knew not what she was destroying evidence of, the how of it was effortless. Having been so thoroughly overwhelmed by the day, Renner had reached that stage of emotional exhaustion where the moment was robbed of its weight, leaving her with a yet welcome companionship with Climb.

    I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have my answer soon, but this is an odd bit of cunning from my dog. Granted, it¡¯s ramshackle, but to get Helgrave to squirm as much as he did to order the creation of such a document¡­ It must have been quite a sight, made all the more impressive by his inexperience. That man¡¯s selection is a right travesty; we could have had Theiern, if only for his wits and not for those he commands already; I¡¯m sure his band could mount some martial prowess compared to the forces of House Boullope or House Raeven. Ah, perhaps Climb is the fox, and I¡¯m the rabbit. Lo, for all my plotting and grand machinations to bring us together, he goes off and does something positively skewed from my course. How earnest.

    With a final flourish, she reached both the end of her sentence and the document. With the revisions complete, she slid it to the side, snatched a new sheet of vellum, and began to ink what she would actually sign. This was not to be a written retelling of events, but a manifesto. Bookending Climb¡¯s edited account were two new passages of her make, ones that framed the raid in moral and dutiful terms, compelling the reader to take action against the baleful syndicate that was Eight Fingers. Before her were a number of writing implements and other stationery, along with a wax melter, her seal, and a small bowl of rice porridge with softened and diced apple. She was not in her quarters; rather, in the strategic forum. The sun¡¯s light had not yet faded from the world - the western sky still stained in the penumbra¡¯s maroon glow - yet the brightness of the newly installed magical lights washed it out, making the windows black and impenetrable.

    I must move swiftly and decisively. The capture of Cocco Doll will shake the syndicate from top to bottom. Every single divisional head, captain, or otherwise in the city will hear about this by tomorrow and flee the day after. It¡¯s unacceptable. Thus, a strike in totality. All seven locations from our dear head of the drug division¡­ what was her name? Hilda- no, Hilma Cygnaeus. Add in a few others, and perhaps a few locations outside the city.

    There was one other in the room, a Maid Nunya. Renner spied her from the corner of her eye, and after a moment''s preparation, looked to her porridge bowl and made a face. She absently reached around the table with her dexter, groping for her handbell, then - in a moment of realization - clicked her tongue and widened her eyes. As she turned her witless visage upon the maid, Renner gave a relieved smile as she saw Nunya was already approaching.

    It would need to be a clean sweep. Overwhelming force at every location. I would need Raeven¡¯s house forces¡­ perhaps that becomes part of the bargain.

    ¡°If you would light my wax melter, and rid this bowl for me¡­ Oh, and please bid the chef a wonderful evening. This was just the perfect supper.¡±

    The maid nodded, used a sparker to ignite the candle under the wax pan, took the bowl, and made to exit. This entire sequence had been mentally rehearsed by Renner, her empty-minded act clean and convincing. This was all for a purpose: mainly, clearing the room in preparation for a speech she was to give.

    The question becomes the location of Six Arms. Undoubtedly, every syndicalist will move to hire them. If they¡¯re half-witted enough - and I¡¯m certain they are - they¡¯ll only accept one of those bids, concentrating the bulk of themselves there. Any singular member of the Blue Roses I send will be snatched up and devoured. If I could hire Red Drop to hunt them - and with Lakyus¡¯s uncle at the helm, I¡¯m sure they¡¯d accept - it would be a different matter, but they are away, at least to my knowledge.

    She intended a forceful delivery tonight, and though such a tone was certainly useful foreshadowing for the warpath she was soon to rage, it was at odds with the usually airheaded performance she kept around the maidstaff. She was loath to leave evidence of any break in character so blatantly in view, and thus this mandated the maid¡¯s dismissal. To ask her to leave and then not return was unacceptably conspicuous; to give her a task that required her leave and then relieving her for the night was equally damning. Thus, Renner had annoyed her away. This would not prevent the exact words of her speech from making it to the maids, but it would deny them a critical firsthand account, making everything they learned suspect. As Nunya opened the door, she jumped slightly, allowing a man to pass into the room, then a second.

    Ah, they¡¯re arriving, good.

    Renner turned to her side, dropping in a bar of verdant blue wax into the melter, and continued writing. She steadily finished line after line as more men entered the room, the bar losing its shape and deforming into the pan. She had summoned a host of aides and attach¨¦s from the Great Houses, those who sojourned at Valencia in service of their masters. A few minutes passed, a total of nine arriving and taking their seats. All were various shades of exhausted, miffed, and sardonic, none quite knowing what could compel the Golden Princess to summon them this late. Upon reaching the end of the document, she signed and sealed it, then sighed and pushed herself off from her seat. Snatching what she had written, she slipped it into a portfolio and made for the front of the room. Her prearrangements for this speech - though on short notice - had netted her a podium, one which she slid her writing onto to keep close at hand.

    How am I to handle the enlistment of Zanac and Raeven? Perhaps I just put on the same face I do for Lakyus? Letting my wits shine brighter feels like the only thing I can do. Reasonable. I should start. Bait them with a few tantalizing remarks.

    ¡°Thank you all for gathering so late. I understand this is somewhat unusual, but this was a matter I needed to address posthaste. In addition to my spoken remarks, I have a document here detailing the events I am about to discuss, as well as the full statements of both I and my bodyguard. You may read it after, but I will have copies scribed on the morrow for you all.¡±

    What forces would I bring to bear? In order of loyalty, Climb, Blue Roses, City Guard, Palace Knights. Perhaps I can snatch along the Warrior Captain, that would be easy enough.

    ¡°Let us begin with a question. What does one do when one is grabbed? When a foul hand comes out of the black and takes hold of them. One scrambles, perhaps screams, strikes back, all for the purpose of breaking away. But what if one does nothing? Simply lets it wrap tightly around them, dragging them deeper into the shadow without resistance. It''s unimaginable, no? Our Kingdom has done just that. Re-Estize is fettered, is caught. Caught by a hand that will haunt us until we remove it. Its name lies on all our tongues: Eight Fingers.¡±

    Other adventurers are off the table, but perhaps I could hire a dark team - the term is Worker, I believe. Oh, and if I could ever sooth what compelled Brain to fight alongside my puppy, him too. That ought to work, no?

    ¡°Such an organization of ne¡¯er-do-welling rogues and skulks may only be dismantled by the actions of many, and while I understand this accursed fact of the situation, some abuses have become too much for me to bear. Thus, earlier today, I dispatched my bodyguard to strike a blow against this rotten and manxome villain. He, in an act both brave and valiant, raided an establishment made expressly for the distribution, processing, and violation of the women caught in the grasp of the slave trade. He forced his way in through a secret and trapped entrance; slew a number of their disdainful brigands and feckless sellswords; freed those innocent and accosted women; defeated the feared and treacherous illusionist bladesman of Six Arms, the Phantom Devil himself; captured him, as well as the disgusting and diabolical head of the Slavery Division itself, Amptief ¡®Cocco¡¯ Doll.¡±

    I suppose this means I¡¯m to betray my deal with Keveleos. No matter. In our arrangement, whoever plunges the knife first wins. Then, I am one of nine. Lo, to net the rest.

    ¡°This action - though an impressive feat of strength, warrior¡¯s cunning, and care for the people of the Kingdom - will have little impact on the broad strokes of events. No, I dare say it will have no impact! No impact unless you, your fellows, and your contemporaries dare to take action of your own accord. Dare to action against the monstrous rot that is Eight Fingers. It is an organization that exists despite our efforts to the contrary; an organization that has evaded, dodged, or otherwise jinked through law after law, broken code after code, and debauched person after person. It is a taint that will ruin us all if we give anything over to it - anything at all. An enemy that cannot be given quarter, lest its grip grow ever tighter around our necks. I have unbound the first knuckle of its first finger. You must tear away the rest.¡±

    Pray tell, wouldn¡¯t a better phrasing be ¡°to sever?¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (17)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 3]

    Renner greedily gulped the bulk of her lukewarm cup; setting it down, she snatched up her tea pot to restore its warmth, only to find it was far too light to contain anything.

    Only a hack bard would dream up such heavy-handed imagery. I''ll have the maid put on some water- No, it''s Nunia on duty tonight. Anything she says will make it straight back to Keveleos. This day is cursed.

    Returning it dejectedly, Renner shoved the whole tea set - saucer and all - to the other end of the table. She was alone in her room, having retired after giving her speech; the words she had spoken then had locked her to a course of action, one she knew to be treacherous and uncertain. She was fraught with unease, the sense that the work to be done far overran the time in which to do it. Similar things had occured in her past, but never at such scale nor at such stake. Her hopes, her desires, and her continued existence depended on what she did from now to the dawn on the fifth; depended on the reliability of her fellows, comrades, and sisters-at-arms; depended on the dispositions of her contemporaries and the attitudes of her siblings. It was terrifying. She forced herself to exhale, push her fears out of her mind, and return to the task at hand.

    Whom to send where? This depends on travel time. In order of speed, Evileye, the Twins, Lakyus, Gagaran. Include the warrior captain, and what remains of his band. The actual ending of lives will be easy, but one person cannot conduct mass arrests; they¡¯ll need to lead squads. Size? Depends on location, both probable enemy force size and compositions; variable fighting-power¡­ shouldn¡¯t take that long, I have that information.

    Still, we¡¯ll need hundreds. City Guard are right out; there are certainly a few honest commissars - Genra, Tilene, and Rau come to mind - but if any men in their squads have, say¡­ gone just a little too long without Black Dust, then the information leaks. Ah, Chardelon, this is what you get for deprioritizing the excision of disloyal elements. How was I to know I would need to close this war in Lower Fire?

    The Palace Knights are also an impossibility, as is the Royal Guard. Had I been able to force Theiern as Jelka¡¯s replacement, this would not have been an issue, but with Vellen¡¯s mark as Defensive Coordinator? Words cannot express my sheer loathing of that man. He dared to keep Climb from me? Make him sign some confession as if it were a shameful thing? Climb did something so pure, so valiant. How vile a rat. A worm, really. The sort of thing you regret grinding to bits underneath your heel for how it ruins your shoe. I hate him.

    Her ire at Helgrave''s actions was not a euphonic thing - a simple emotion she could ride, exhaust, and let drift away. Two of its insults were basic enough, in order of ascending importance: he had implied wrongdoing on the part of her bodyguard, thus implicating her; he had delayed Climb, preventing him from reaching her in a time of grievous need. Had this been all, she would have ate the injury and dismissed it, but Helgrave struck a third time: to escape his clutches, Climb - for whatever reason - had found cause to lie to him in writing; as this was those of Climb''s words that had reached her first, this meant - by extension - that Climb had lied to her. Helgrave had forced an act of disloyalty from her dog. She had no coherent way of processing this; she only knew cold hatred.

    There¡¯s one worthy grain in all this. I mentioned my disappointment in Helgrave weeks ago; this will only drive my dog closer to me. I ought to start keeping a list of those to send below. No point in thinking about it; my machinations will have to deal with a tabling, at least for now. Whom else? The Warrior Band? Perhaps, but they¡¯re depleted, and those they¡¯ve brought on have no guarantee of reliability. Adventurers, Dark Adventurers, or any other of their ilk are impossible; guild regulations and general unscrupulousness make this impossible. Azuth, why aren¡¯t you here? The amount I¡¯d pay for your services. I suppose after that, I¡¯m flat broke.

    No, none of those options are viable; I will need the men-at-arms of House Raeven. Still, even he will be stretched thin. A complete victory requires overwhelming superiority in the quality and quantity of forces; say, sixfold. Eight Fingers has¡­ oh, lets see: at a ratio of one member to hundred fifty citizens out of a total populace of one hundred three thousand, that¡¯s about six hundred and eighty¡­ ah, just call it seven hundred men enemy men. As many will be mobilized as possible, but most are petty criminals or street gangsters, not soldiers. The actual number of effective fighters brought to bear? No more than one hundred.

    I¡¯ll need more. Raeven should be able to leverage the forces of the entire faction, but time for mobilization becomes an issue. It¡¯s not as if he can whisk away his villeins ¡®cross forty leagues in a day. No, he¡¯s limited to what he has near the city, and that¡¯s a figure I do not possess. He should have his ex-adventurers with him, though their strength is not a given. Put simply, I will need to ask him what he can provide.

    Renner lifted herself in her seat, sitting up straight and looking out the window. She struggled to see the stars, the magical replacements to her old oil-lamps far brighter than the old mantled luminance. Instead, she was greeted with her reflection, which made her notice that she had lost her human guise.

    Anyone else? The Warrior-Captain¡¯s support is a given, and it may be that the Vice Captain and some trusted survivors from Carne can be looped into the fold as well. What about Brain? Why not? Whatever compelled him to help Climb may happen again. I still have no explanation for my darling¡¯s actions; the moral imperative, yes, but the impetus in the moment? It¡¯s a mystery.

    Support¡­ Who as support? Could I rope in the temples to all this? Surely some priests would be willing to set aside any resentments to work on such a virtuous cauterization. There¡¯s a practical element too: the less power Eight Fingers holds, the less dust-decohered or street-slenderized will come to them for charity. By the same token, the Magicians Guild would give us their aid. How often have they cried at the smuggling practices of Eight Fingers bypassing their mechanisms? Thus, we will have casters of both the vault and chasm of magic.

    Ah, and if I am not so invested in winning more, why not one more element? If I may not have the red, lo, the black. Darkness is in E-Rantel, but with timely word and that mage of theirs - the ¡°Beautiful Princess¡± as it were - they should make the eighty-odd leagues come nightfall. Even if in weakened condition from the trip, they can be restored and sent in. I¡¯ve been meaning to extend greetings to them anyway; any adamantite adventurers as an unknown quantity are undesirable, but I really ought to thank them for the slaying they¡¯ve done. I cannot add them to the total yet, but that is a decision I may make come tomorrow evening.

    Where does that leave my count? Six squads, each led by one of the Blue Roses or Climb; each with mages and medic?. Gazef stays in reserve; wherever Six Arms shows its head, we snap them. He did run through the gamut of them last time after all, imagine the devastation in his full panoply. Say what you will about the chaff men we¡¯ll be sending alongside, our heroes will be at full fighting strength. No surprises like the Black Night, a scramble to divine the turmoil and slay it. Tomorrow will be us at our best.

    Renner blinked, clearing her thoughts and tallying again. The total was staggering, and though she attempted to dismiss her work - a wild, overoptimistic flit of a tired mind - she could find no holes. The loyalty of the Blue Roses was certain. Gazef would only reject her request on the orders of her father, something she could prevent only with words to him. The temples would find no cause to reject Lakyus. The only two uncertain elements were the mage guild and Raeven¡¯s acquiescence; the latter would require tactful negotiation, but she was flush with assets for just that cause. The moment was electric.

    Selection of targets, then? Lakyus has the best leadership capacity and thus can lead the largest squad; she gets the Dalenoc manor; not too distant, near the port on Kerene. Ah, the panic they will feel through to the next dusk - like rats fleeing from a torch; every syndicalist will alight from the ground only to be yanked back down by the weight of their take. Clandestine channels will be jammed; every single intra-divisional route out of Re-Estize will be filled to capacity, significant spillover will occur. Smuggling will absorb that surge, and that¡¯s what we hit. Likely a third of their wealth will be there. Wonderful. Further, she¡¯s a noble woman; it would be unseemly for anyone else to surpass her on the battlefield. Yes, Dalenoc to Lakyus.

    That leaves me with five remaining teams and five remaining targets. In this way, Climb¡¯s actions contain a blessing. He''s already scorched a target, saving me a shortfall. Wonderful. It¡¯s my understanding that Evileye possesses the powers of flight and sightlessness¡­ Perhaps I¡¯ll send her to the location that requires the most discretion, the Black Bank - if only for the sake of nearby citizens. Then, the Syndicalists¡¯ Game will go to Tina, Wetworker¡¯s Grotto to Tia, Highwayman¡¯s Stockhouse to Gagaran, and the Bruiser¡¯s Villa to¡­ to Climb?

    Those thoughts set something alight in her. A taste in the air, a tinge in her mouth. Her senses ramped.

    If Six Arms is there, he will die. He will absolutely die. Or¡­ or perhaps they take him as a hostage. It would be a simple matter to break down negotiations; slip my tongue to slit his throat. Would they destroy his corpse? No, no they would see its value. He of the Babbling Brook has favored Lakyus, and given unto her the power to restore life; they know that. Even then, they would attempt to barter with his body. Loose Gazef then, let the vault fall upon them. Six Arms will be rendered unto He of the Winding Narrows, and Climb unto my arms injured, deathlike, and pliant.

    The air seemed to hum. Her heart''s pace quickened, bringing little plooms of heat.

    Cause? ¡°How could I have known?! I was certain they would be at Dalenoc! Gods above, Climb, I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m so, so sorry.¡± Hics, sobs, and cries all intermixed. ¡°I¡¯ll make this up to you; I¡¯ll stay by your side until I can bring you back to health, I promise!¡± The look on his face¡­ too weak to talk. His eyes apologizing to me for daring to die in his mission. It''s perfect.

    There were now sparks in the corners of her vision. She shifted her legs.

    ¡°Eh? Why may I not stay by him through the night? He needs my aid! What if he were to fall out of bed, or need to relieve himself in the middle of the night?¡± ¡°No, no, I refuse to leave him. The maids cannot handle this matter as well as I can. I know his needs better!¡±

    ¡°Is it safe for you to leave bed? I don¡¯t believe it is, but if you insist¡­ I don¡¯t want you walking. Let me have a wheelchair made for you.¡± ¡°Eh? Is it safe for you to be eating meat? Won¡¯t it overburden your stomach? Perhaps we put you on a lighter diet for the sake of your health.¡± ¡°You¡¯re continuing to vomit? I suppose we¡¯ll have to swap out the tonics, cycle through them until we find one that keeps your meals down.¡±

    ¡°How gaunt you look! I can¡¯t stand the sight. Oh Climb, won¡¯t you let me keep you warm at night?¡± ¡°Mm. They say skin to skin contact is the best medicine. I don¡¯t mind doing it for you.¡± ¡°Climb, these bruises. Have you been fitting at night? That can¡¯t be! It will only impede your recovery. I¡¯ll need to fetter you if you¡¯re to be kept safe. Here, let me put them on you and lock them so they won¡¯t come loose. After all, I just want you to be comfortable and safe. So safe.¡±

    Perhaps it was the phlogiston in her tea, the tension she was under, or any other number of things she considered in those precious moments. Whatever it was, she made to stand, leaving her chair and striding toward her bedroom. A knock at her door caught her midstep. She felt her visage coil, a full smile blooming across her face.

    Fiendish timing! Damn the Gods!

    She opened her mouth to speak, seizing as she did so.

    Chardelon, your mask. Lo, to simmer.

    She swallowed, closed her eyes, and forced her face into a neutral expression. A second knock came, her countenance springing back a moment later.

    ¡°Enter!¡±

    The door opened, and the most wonderful thing in the world stepped through and bowed.

    ¡°Forgive my late return.¡±

    He''s here! Gods, how I wish I could drag him into my bedchambers this instant. My puppy, I promise you that come tomorrow evening, the world will right itself. The performance here? Veiled anger.

    ¡°Climb! I was so worried!¡±

    Her words rippled across him, his bow deepening. The light was bright enough to reveal little pools on the sides of his eyes. Renner let out a shallow breath, this to give the sense of immediate regret at her previous tone. Climb¡¯s body shifted again, loosening as he raised himself.

    He looks positively exhausted. Press him, but not too much.

    ¡°I really was! When you didn¡¯t return earlier, I couldn¡¯t get the idea out of my mind that you were in danger¡­ Perhaps- perhaps an Eight Fingers ambush catching you unawares. I¡­ Apologies, I¡¯m scattered; what happened exactly? I read your account, but to be honest, I couldn''t make much of it. Could you go through in detail?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness. I must say that-¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to sit?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ um-¡±

    ¡°Climb, sit.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, Your Highness. Thank you.¡±

    Good boy.

    Climb, after some fretting, finally made to sit, pondering over and plopping without grace into the chair across from her. This seemed to jostle his eyes shut, and though he opened them a moment later, he did so sluggishly and with little pep. Renner proffered a slight smile, tilting her head with a chuff.

    ¡°Climb, you¡¯re spent. Do you need something made?¡±

    ¡°I do not wish for any, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Teas? Coffees? A supper?¡±

    ¡°I must refuse, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Eh? You would take such a firm hand against your mistress on such a matter of the preservation of your person?¡±

    ¡°No! I-¡±

    ¡°Ah, I apologize. You must have none of the stamina about you for my fretting right now¡­ fine. Then, as your third order for the evening, after we are done here you are to go straight to the guard¡¯s mess, tell them that the Golden Princess has specifically requested that you be given a double portion of the night¡¯s fare, eat it in its entirety, then go directly to bed. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    There was a wistful look in his eye, gentle jerks of his body rattling his chair. His breathing was ragged, and he moved to brush the rounds of his eyes.

    He¡¯s been deeply affected by today. There¡¯s no need to prod, just gently tug at him.

    ¡°Climb, Tell me what happened.¡±

    He swallowed, before launching into his tale.

    ¡°After I was dismissed from our meeting this morning I made directly for the Platinum Horde to deliver Lakyus¡¯s message.¡±

    ¡°And you made it there safely?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I did. I wasn¡¯t¡­ well-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get to your combat in a bit; right.¡±

    ¡°We talked for a bit, but I left before noon to return to the palace. On the way back, I ran into a crowd gathered on the north-south main road. A group of some men - I think it was five - were attacking a kid. A boy, I guess. They had him down on the ground, were kicking him. He was out cold.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s horrible! Was the City Guard not present? There should be patrols that run along there.¡±

    ¡°There were two guardsmen there, but they weren''t doing anything. Just watching from the side.¡±

    ¡°And you compelled them?¡±

    ¡°I did, but they wouldn¡¯t listen. So I moved in to break it up myself, but, before I could, a¡­ man stepped in to intervene.¡±

    He was left lost for words, only to pick ¡°man?¡± I was right about a third party, but I suppose I was off the mark as to what. How strange.

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking as if something extraordinary happened. Ah, apologies, I¡¯m bombarding you with dull interruptions.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Your Highness. It- it did. Er, it was extraordinary. He- he was older, dressed like a butler-¡±

    A male attendant? It¡¯s not unheard of. Older¡­ perhaps a third son who had worked his way into the miasma of maids long ago? Odd.

    ¡°-I didn¡¯t see him move through the crowd, but he made his way in somehow, working to the center and confronting the men inside. He asked- er, commanded the leader of the gang to stand down. The leader refused, and tried to punch the butler. It didn¡¯t land. The butler knocked him off his feet in one strike. He just moved so fast, I¡¯ve never seen anyone that quick; I could barely see it, it was a blur.¡±

    ¡°Did the rest flee?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they did. I ran in a moment after and gave the boy my healing potion. Er, if that¡¯s ok, Your Highness.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Why? It¡¯s not as if he was identifiable as my bodyguard. He wasn¡¯t donned in his tabard, just a plain outer layer. If anything, the bystanders thought of him as a sellsword, or perhaps a dark adventurer. I suppose the act would lead to this whole quest to topple the brothel in the first place - however it happened - but from the information he had in the moment, he thought it would earn nothing for himself or for me. Just charity for the sake of charity? What am I to say? Something witty?

    ¡°Well, it was earmarked for a pauper boy after all. There¡¯s nothing to be done if it was used on another.¡±

    Renner lightly giggled, leading into a warm smile the moment after. The light caught his blush with sharp relief. This was a topic of continual confusion for her, she was never quite able to grasp the decision making of others in these moments. Often, when pressed for a cause, she could tie it back to some element of a courtly conspiracy or palace politics, but not here. Climb¡¯s actions were a complete non-sequitur.

    ¡°I was¡­ well I was amazed. I followed after him, I just had to know how he did it. When I caught up, I asked him to show me how to do what he had done.¡±

    ¡°Really? How to punch like he did?¡±

    Climb opened his mouth to speak, tilting his head slightly and dancing his eyes.

    ¡°Or am I misunderstanding?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s less punching, Your Highness. More his movement in general. There was a sort of power to it¡­ it¡¯s hard to describe to¡­ er-¡±

    ¡°To a laywoman?¡±

    ¡°No, Your Highness! Not at-¡±

    ¡°Climb, pay it no mind. I¡¯m someone who has never pursued martial matters, it¡¯s only natural you would have no words to describe what is intuitive to you.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll trust you on this.¡±

    Verily. I haven¡¯t a clue.

    ¡°He-¡±

    ¡°What was his name?¡±

    ¡°Mister Sebas, Sebas Tian.¡±

    A commoner and yet a butler? Such a strange name, too; I¡¯ve never heard anything like it, even among foreigners. Perhaps someone from the north? I suppose conventions around names change the farther one travels, and it''s not unheard of for high blood frontiersmen to only have two names. That would perhaps make sense.

    ¡°He said yes. Looked at my hands, then my sword, and¡­ well, he got down into a fighting stance, pulled back his fist, and¡­ threatened to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Eh?! Climb-¡±

    I mean, it''s not as if it wouldn¡¯t be a nice surprise, but I would like such a thing to occur in a controlled fashion.

    ¡°No! No, Your Highness, it wasn¡¯t like that. Er, I mean, it was, but-¡±

    ¡°It was?! Gods above! Climb!¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t- he uh, he just¡­ threatened me with his body language, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Like pantomimed killing you?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ he just got down into his stance and¡­ I was just certain he was going to.¡±

    I haven¡¯t the faintest idea what he means.

    ¡°Climb, I¡¯m boggled.¡±

    ¡°He said he was going to kill me, or that I would die if I was not prepared. He told me to think of the most important thing in my life¡­ and, uh-¡±

    ¡°And what was that?¡±

    It¡¯s me, isn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Ah¡­ er¡­ my duties.¡±

    Wonderful.

    ¡°What then?¡±

    ¡°Sebas punched, and¡­ well, I was certain I would die. I didn¡¯t flinch, though. I didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t run, and he missed me. I think I overcame something in myself, figured out a way to outdo the mind with the body.¡±

    He¡¯s speaking with such reverence. I don¡¯t understand, yet, once more understanding is not required. This is not my world.

    ¡°Harrowing.¡±

    ¡°I think he¡¯s the strongest man I¡¯ve ever met.¡±

    Renner lurched and cocked her head.

    ¡°Are you discounting the Warrior-Captain?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    Climb shook his head. Renner turned her head more and - still in disbelief - asked again.

    ¡°You speak in verity?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, I don¡¯t think¡­ I don¡¯t think Captain Stronoff holds a candle to that man. Brain said the same thing; actually, Brain said he didn¡¯t think they could take Sebas down together.¡±

    Another ax taken to the roots of the world. How can such a thing make sense? Gazef¡¯s strength is one of those inviolable things. Hm, perhaps not the world; rather, the world of mankind. It feels as if many of those blows have been struck recently. Perhaps it''s delusion, but it feels as if the ground is trembling.

    ¡°I¡­ alright. I trust you. Still, those are the evaluations of others-¡±

    ¡°Well, mine too. I dueled with the Warrior-Captain this morning.¡±

    Climb, you¡¯re going to make your owner sick. A match between you and Gazef? What if word had got out?

    ¡°I trust you have an explanation for that?¡±

    ¡°It was Sir Stronoff who approached me. I, well, I was going to refuse. But it was early enough this morning that no one was around.¡±

    ¡°Then I trust it went well?¡±

    ¡°It did. We had a good spar. Um, anyway, Sebas and I did the training in an alleyway, and after that, another man came out.¡±

    ¡°This being Brain Unglaus?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s correct.¡±

    ¡°Lo, out of the warrens comes the paramount bladesman of the land. Climb, you had quite a day.¡±

    ¡°I guess. We got into a fight right after.¡±

    ¡°You and Brain Unglaus?¡±

    ¡°Er, not like that. A group of five assassins had tailed Mister Sebas, and we fought them off together. Sebas took three, Brain took one, and I took one. They killed their foes, and I managed to down mine. Sebas then took him and¡­ charmed him, I guess? He called what he did ¡®Palm of the Puppeteer.'' Some technique with his ki. He¡¯s a monk.¡±

    ¡°A monk? Oh, a pugilist.¡±

    ¡°Yes, unarmed fighter is the term.¡±

    ¡°Why was he being hunted by assassins?¡±

    ¡°It was because of a girl he rescued, Tuare.¡±

    ¡°Oh! We¡¯re to the matter of the brothel, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, Your Highness.¡±

    He got the location from the interrogation of the skulk. The girl, Tuare, was a slave bound to that place. In that case, the wetworkers were a Security Division team.

    ¡°And you three headed there immediately? Er, Brain came along because he was so affected by your training with Sebas? Witnessing such skill and power - as you put it - drove him to join you on some quest for¡­ redemption on his part? To my knowledge, he was a sellsword and a bandit till now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ exactly it, actually.¡±

    Ah, a new paradigm then: I will simply parrot the wildest of bardwork and Climb will confirm every last detail. Trite. I wonder if this Sebas stands up to the heroes of yore. Rigrit and the like.

    ¡°I knew there was something off in your report. I had guessed the existence of someone else, but never something like this.¡±

    ¡°I apologize for lying, Your Highness.¡±

    Renner suppressed a smile. Her dog had made up for his wrong, the evil Helgrave had forced him to commit brought into relief and expunged. She dismissed her turmoil without a second thought.

    ¡°Eh? There¡¯s no cause for shame. No¡­ no, what you did was the right thing. Had you spoken of Sebas in your report, it only would have jeopardized him and Tuare. Er, I¡¯m assuming they were trying to make an escape, hence the assassins.¡±

    ¡°Er¡­ yes.¡±

    ¡°Right. Describe the raid.¡±

    ¡°We got there quickly - just north of the river. Sebas went through the front door, Brain and I through a secret entrance. I slew one, he took down a few others. We moved deeper inside, and found a room full of storage crates.¡±

    ¡°What of?¡±

    ¡°It was clothing, maid outfits and stuff like that. To be honest, I¡¯m not sure why they had it.¡±

    I don''t know either. Clothing for the slaves? To what end?

    ¡°Odd.¡±

    ¡°I held back in case there were secret passages, Brain went on ahead, and while I was inspecting the boxes, two men came out of one. It was a secret tunnel disguised as one.¡±

    ¡°Those men being the Phantomancer and the head of the Slavery Division.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, uh, Succulent and Cocco Doll.¡±

    Amptief ¡°Cocco¡± Doll. Fourth son of the now defunct Doll merchant family. No surviving parents or siblings after the family manor burnt down - except his sister. Possessions passed to him. I suppose it¡¯s good to have it confirmed that he was the head and not the other two of his blood.

    ¡°What then?¡±

    ¡°They were trying to escape, so they tried to go around me. Cocco Doll wanted to take me as¡­ um, a prisoner.¡±

    ¡°Prisoner? Was he able to identify you?¡±

    ¡°As your bodyguard, yes.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it''s possible I might have met or been seen by him, I have gone to the exchanges from time to time.¡±

    Or worse, he was pulling together information on me as a plot to end my life. That¡¯s the most likely reason for him being able to identify my dog. I¡¯ll keep a close accounting of him and his location. Once he stands trial, I¡¯ll need him quietly killed.

    ¡°Though¡­ well, nevermind.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    What is he talking about? This is reminiscent of this morning with Lakyus. This isn¡¯t another one of¡­ those matters, is it?

    ¡°Climb, what are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°He said, um, that he¡­ uh, wanted me taken¡­ for¡­ um.¡±

    What?! Twice in one day I am confronted with others¡¯ proclivities in relation to Climb. A man though¡­ that¡¯s a quandary in its own right. Yes, I will definitely need Cocco Doll dead. I¡¯ll let Lakyus do that.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡±

    ¡°I yelled for help and managed to bait them by backing into a door, pretending like I was luring them into an ambush. It forced Succulent to stop and fight me.¡±

    ¡°And- and how did that go?¡±

    Succulent is a member of Six Arms, the same one that nearly lured Gazef to his death. Cunning, sharp, and dangerous. Thought to be of the same skill as a member of the Blue Rose. A de facto adamantite adventurer. Yet, Climb dared to face him? My dog is brave.

    ¡°Well, we came in close a few times, and he got off a few swipes before I could tell what was happening. He was using illusion magic to disguise his sword arm, creating a fake one.¡±

    Storybook villainy.

    ¡°That¡¯s treacherous!¡±

    ¡°It- it was. I got off a few strikes, and a killing blow. I thought I had managed to take him down, that was a trick too, he just made an illusion of himself dying, turned invisible, and stabbed me from behind.¡±

    ¡°Gods above, Climb- I, oh my Gods. Climb, oh my Gods!¡±

    ¡°Princess- I-¡±

    Renner immediately broke into tears, Climb¡¯s assurances dying in his mouth. Before he could rally, she had sprung from her chair, rounded the table, and went to wrap him in her arms. Climb half grabbed, half caught her, standing to make the position more comfortable for her.

    He would have died as he would have the night of the sixteenth, yet without my control. Had that happened, word may not have made it back here, yet Eight Fingers would have known all the same. Once again, a threat would be levied against my life; once again, one I was not prepared for.

    She cried for a time, letting her stresses pour out onto his shoulder. He resisted at first, before his muscles seemed to unwind their tension, and he slipped his arms around her. Eventually, her lamentations slowed to whines and hics, and she slowly pulled back and returned to her chair; Climb did the same.

    Chardelon, you really are a fool, aren¡¯t you?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Your-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t dare say ¡®Your Highness.¡¯ Say my name.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Renner.¡±

    ¡°Never leave my side or the safety of my purview again, never without my permission. You did a brave thing, and¡­ I see the heroism in it, but the thought of losing you to such random chance¡­ it¡¯s unbearable. I suppose¡­ duty will occasionally call your name - and I suppose tomorrow will be one of those days - and you will have to fight and risk your life. When it does, I will not stop it, but I do protest. I¡¯m sorry, Climb, you¡¯ve been granted such a weak willed mistress.¡±

    One who failed to guide you. One who left room for error in your commands. You¡¯re loyal to a fault, and I keep letting you fall victim to it. Tomorrow should fix this; yes, perhaps with tomorrow, I can kill every adventurous and heroic urge in you.

    ¡°Yes... Renner.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I can no longer bear to hear talk of violence. Were you rescued by your fellows?¡±

    ¡°Brain.¡±

    ¡°Right. And then?¡±

    ¡°We rescued the enslaved women. Brain and I took Succulent and Doll away to the nearest guard house along with them.¡±

    Survivors; that¡¯s a problem. Exactly what I feared when I struck the brothel from the list of targets this morning. Hopefully not too many.

    ¡°Those women¡­ the count of them?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen survivors¡­ and three dead.¡±

    Unfortunate. Ah, there¡¯s nothing for it. They¡¯ll have to go.

    Over the last three months, Renner had warranted the deaths of many, either at the hands of the Blue Roses, or after the fact through Climb. She had done so again less than an hour prior, authorizing through use of her name and blood the end of those who Climb, Brain, and Sebas had slaked their blades and fists on. It was a permission or command she had given dozens of times, and she found cause to do it once more. For the first time, however, it would be not against a ne¡¯er-do-welling criminal, one of their corrupt allies or marks, nor an enemy out of the black; rather, it was to be their victims.

    I can¡¯t use Climb for that purpose, nor Lakyus. They¡¯ll balk, turn against me in their horror. I¡¯ll need another channel. Pull a little information from Climb.

    ¡°And they¡¯re at the guardhouse now? You said the nearest, so Rine?¡±

    ¡°Yes; I believe they¡¯re still there.¡±

    ¡°Hm, it shames me to say, but the city guard is so stuffed to the brim with unreliable elements, I feel it would be hazardous to place these women under their protection. I may hire a band of sellswords for just that purpose, and with time, find demenses for them to go to. Send them there in secret.¡±

    ¡°I think that would be a wonderful idea, Your Highness.¡±

    He seems fascinated by them, why? The same look in his eye when he spoke of that boy earlier. I don¡¯t understand it.

    ¡°Of the women, what did you think of them?¡±

    Climb seemed to hang for a moment, blinking in apparent disbelief. Renner immediately realized she had said something unbecoming; worse, she wasn¡¯t able to tell why.

    ¡°I felt sorry for them. If I were more capable, stronger - had we moved faster through the brothel - I could have saved these people from their suffering.¡±

    Why does it matter? I don¡¯t understand. He said there were only nineteen women in total. The numbers are large enough to dull the senses anyway, so what if it was only sixteen alive instead of the full count? The action still sounds as impressive. I don¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Really now... I guess you really do feel sorry for them, Climb.¡±

    ¡°Felt sorry for them,¡± is that not simply an expression? A way saying that you think a person is pathetic? Pitiful? Is there a distinction between those two words?

    ¡°I do. I really do.¡±

    ¡°To feel sorry;¡± sorry as in guilt, as in shame. Shame on the part of another? Isn¡¯t that embarrassment? Someone else does something cringeworthy? No, those are separate descriptors I think, at least they¡¯re used differently. Is there a second meaning to the word that I''m missing?

    ¡°Is that so? Climb, you¡¯re a good person.¡±

    This is a hole in my act. I need to mend it.

    ¡°Princess, if you need me to protect them, I¡¯ll go anytime. I¡¯ve already decided.¡±

    And there it is laid bare. What additional favor would he earn by doing so? I already specified that the act of moving people out of the city would be clandestine, and yet he wishes to assist in it all the same. I¡¯m missing something fundamental, aren¡¯t I? This warrants further exploration; alas, later. Close this out, then lure in the maid.

    ¡°...I¡¯ll call on you when the time comes, let¡¯s leave that aside for now. I have something to tell you. Tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, Lakyus and I intend to assault the Eight Fingers bases indicated by the parchment we acquired last night. Their defenses will only strengthen with time, and undoubtedly some will flee thanks to the attack on the brothel.¡±

    ¡°My apologies! Your Highness, I¡¯ve made a lot of trouble by acting on my own.¡±

    ¡°Think nothing of the sort, Climb. This was always coming, we have simply come to a crux; a time to pick our way. Besides, Climb, what you¡¯ve done is¡­ well, amazing. You captured Succulent, a member of Six Arms, and brought in Cocco Doll, the head of the Slavery Division. That alone has shaken our opponents to the core. I just wish to capitalize on what you¡¯ve done.¡±

    Renner threw a light punch into the air.

    ¡°We¡¯ll hit them again before they can get the word out of the city!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness! I think I will retire now, and gather my strength for tomorrow!¡±

    ¡°Please do. I think things might get quite exciting this next night. Perhaps keep that in mind.¡±

    Climb, utterly overcome by emotion, stood, bowed, and made to leave the room.

    ¡°Have a good evening, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°You too.¡±

    The door unlatched, swung open, swung closed, and latched. Renner was once again alone.

    ¡°Thank you very much, Climb. And now-¡±

    To deal with Nunia. There¡¯s the question of how much she knows, what Keveleos has spread of me. I find it unlikely that he has, still, I ought to be careful.

    Renner¡¯s facade had already fallen apart, Climb¡¯s presence the only thing that had kept it together. She was spent, realizing that she would need to rebuild her guise. She downed the remainder of her now cold cup, stood up, and wandered over to her vanity. Touching down with little fanfare, she set about fixing her face one last time.

    ¡°Ah, what kind of expression should I wear?¡±

    Renner attempted a few faces, tugging at her face while testing a smile of hers.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s over formal, as if I¡¯m meeting someone.¡±

    She chided herself, loosening some aspects of her face and tightening others. Finally arriving at something that looked nice, she stood.

    ¡°This is best.¡±

    Returning to her sitting room, she snatched her bell and flicked it. A moment later, Maid Nunia knocked and entered.

    ¡°Could you do something for me? I¡¯d like you to put on the kettle, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°At once, Your Highness.¡±

    Just beam, she¡¯ll take note soon enough.

    Nunia drew closer, reassembling Renner¡¯s tea set from its previous disarray, looking up and catching the princess''s face.

    ¡°Is there something the matter? You seem quite lively. Have the happenings been good?¡±

    ¡°Mm, I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard. Climb did something quite wonderful today! It was extraordinary!¡±

    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that lovely.¡±

    There was a biting sarcasm to her voice, Nunia drawing out the ¡°that¡± in a flat and breathy way. Renner at once realized she had the upper hand, dismissing any previous fears that she would speak to someone aware of her inner countenance.

    Ah, she knows nothing. Blas¨¦. If you could be struck dead on command, I would issue it without a second thought. Die. You should die. All who dare do what you just did should die. Climb is mine, and yet you would insult him? Look down upon him? Know your place. The daughter of a do-nothing who is only in this place by the good will of my father and a ¡°crime lord.¡± And yet you would dare speak out against a princess? I will twist her, I will make this extraction of information agonizing.

    ¡°Yup! His actions have simply been astonishing! Climb waylaid scores of vile men, and then rescued a lot of people enslaved by those men! He sent them to... oh, where was it? A guard post, I believe. In any case, the whole operation has led back to quite a number of nobles in bed with Eight Fingers; it should be possible to expose them now!¡±

    Renner¡¯s conversation with Nunia had one objective: the murder of rescued slaves. She was only speaking to her as a proxy; her words not meant for Keveleos¡¯s lackey, but to him. The mention of corrupt members of the nobility was a veiled yet blatant request, an admission that Climb¡¯s actions had been an overextension that demanded correcting. Nunia, as was her wont, began to hunt for information, realizing the danger in what Renner had just said.

    ¡°Really now? Marvelous, that¡¯s Her Highness¡¯s Climb for you. Forgive me, could I trouble you to tell me of his heroic deeds?¡±

    Reveal the women of the night, mention the force I¡¯ll hire to guard them - I believe the Yellow Star mercenary band would work, they¡¯re thoroughly corrupt - insist that their safety is the top priority. Payment? I¡¯ll give them back Succulent, give them his location. Not Doll, however; considering I¡¯m dealing with a ¡°Traditionalist,¡± that ought to work well, correct?

    ¡°Indeed! Well, it all started this morning when I heard of the most awful thing from Lady Aindra.¡±

    On the morrow, then, I will throw the iron-die. By the morning of the fifth, I¡¯ll have read it and have my future set.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (18)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    ¡°¡®I have unbound the first finger- the first¡¯¡­ what is she saying? ¡®the first knuckle of the- of its first finger. You must tear away the¡¯¡­ ¡®the rest¡¯? What the fuck is this?!¡±

    No responses came. Hilma¡¯s capos were as dumbstruck as her.

    ¡°Fucking say something!¡±

    Eishra sputtered out a response first.

    ¡°It¡¯s a declaration of war.¡±

    Hilma could muster no words, giving a frustrated huff before scrunching her face and rubbing it. She was in her office along with two of her capos - Eishra and Feldhop - long after midnight. She had no intention of sleeping, being filled with an agitated energy that would ruin any attempt at rest. The only thing that kept her from tossing away the parchment she held in her hand was the pipe in her mouth, the steady inhale and exhale of flue-cured leaf the one thing she could hold onto.

    ¡°If it¡¯s a declaration of war. Then whom are we fighting?¡±

    Not just on us, on half the fucking nobility.

    Hilma stayed silent, too exhausted to convert her thoughts into words. Renner¡¯s speech seemed to mark a massive escalation. Feldhop¡¯s question didn¡¯t hang for long, Eidra responding immediately.

    ¡°Her, the Blue Roses, maybe she roped in some other members of the royal faction.¡±

    ¡°Still, I don¡¯t think that would be enough.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°That girl is mad. She¡¯s in way over her head if she thinks she can run us through with just that.¡±

    ¡°What if she isn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°If she¡¯s certain she can win? She¡¯s taken us to the brink already, clearly she has some idea of our compositions.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯d be wrong!¡±

    ¡°Not if she has more support than we think.¡±

    Hilma realized what Eidra was getting at, and chose to intervene.

    ¡°Feldhop, belligerence doesn¡¯t look good on you.¡±

    Feldhop forced himself to pause and ponder their words, before continuing quieter.

    ¡°You think she got the support of one of the Great Six?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how.¡±

    ¡°But it would be necessary if she¡¯s mounting such a large operation.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s doing that! All we have to go on is a single raid on a slavery division brothel.¡±

    That was the only thing keeping Cocco Doll afloat, the income from blackmail was always a steady stream. If that was all, it would be bad enough, but the slave girls were rescued. Who knows how many noblemen she now has leverage against. I guess she really is aiming for the throne.

    ¡°One she felt confident enough to make.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Whatever. Let¡¯s say she does have support. Who would it be? Bolloupe¡¯s in deep with us, we would know if he was trying to break away. Fuck, I don¡¯t see her going cross faction, that rules out Lytton too.¡±

    I¡¯m not so sure he hasn¡¯t turned traitor. If he wants to sever ties, he would do it like this.

    ¡°What are the factions, again?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s for and who¡¯s against the king.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    ¡°Raeven¡¯s on payroll, as is Blumrush. That leaves Urovana and Pespea.¡±

    ¡°Urovana¡¯s got Theiern.¡±

    Hilma had abided silently by Eidra¡¯s points up until now, but this she couldn¡¯t bear.

    ¡°It¡¯s not Theiern. We¡¯ve gone over this.¡±

    ¡°Well what if she¡¯s only now got his-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not Theiern, it¡¯s not Urovana. Urovana is loyal to Ramposa, and Ramposa wants Barbro on the throne. Giving any more support to his daughter will only jeopardize that. She¡¯s destabilizing court politics enough as it is. My vote is Pespea. He¡¯s already married to a princess, and Boullope makes it seem like Vena and Renner are fairly tight.¡±

    ¡°Alright, what are we facing, then?¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to know? I doubt any of us have been keeping track of their forces.¡±

    ¡°Yilre has.¡±

    On my orders. Having him start keeping watch was a lucky guess on my part, and I could use all of that I can get.

    ¡°He has? Well, he¡¯s not here right now. In any case, the enemy forces can¡¯t be any more than four score men, can they?¡±

    ¡°They will be.¡±

    ¡°He has that many house forces in the city?¡±

    Hilma clicked her tongue, pulling her pipe from her mouth as she realized she needed to correct her subordinates.

    ¡°No, both of you misunderstand.¡±

    ¡°Then whom are we fighting?¡±

    ¡°Everyone.¡±

    Eidra lurched, Feldhop taking on a sardonic tone.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fighting everyone.¡±

    ¡°You think they¡¯re all in on this? Hilma, I know my doubts earlier about Renner being this ¡®mastermind¡¯ of yours, but to say that the six are-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say the six, I said everyone.¡±

    Eidra got it first.

    ¡°You mean the other divisions.¡±

    ¡°The council has always run a very fine line between being allies and rivals. We¡¯re way over that now. Keveleos is either in bed with her, or she¡¯s in bed with him.¡±

    The door to Hilma¡¯s office flew open, and a breathlessly panting man entered the room. This was Yilre, Hilma¡¯s third capo. She sprung forward in her chair, pulling her pipe from her mouth a second later and immediately began badgering him for answers.

    ¡°You met him?¡±

    ¡°Him¡± here referred to Endio Maranai, the divisional head of Assassination. Yilre had been sent as an impromptu runner - the task too sensitive to be handled by anyone else - along with two sellswords. Yilre gulped down a little more air, and swallowed before answering.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°What number?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Are you daft?! What number is he asking for?¡±

    ¡°He refused.¡±

    Hilma slammed her desk violently, causing her inkwell to spill and splatter her desk in black ichor. She didn¡¯t care, instead choosing to turn in her seat and take a full hit from her pipe, blowing it out to ease her growing rage.

    Of course he would  .  They¡¯re all fucking running.

    ¡°What about Six Arms?¡±

    ¡°Accepted.¡±

    ¡°Payment?¡±

    ¡°A trade standard.¡±

    ¡°What, just for keeping all their forces in one place anyway? It¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to run from ¡®a good fight¡¯ or whatever those madmen think. Fine, whatever. It¡¯s worth it to keep the rest of the divisions from splitting them up. And the plan to bait the Blue Roses into their compound, or villa, or whatever the fuck it is, they assent to that?¡±

    ¡°Also accepted. Zero seemed excited about it, actually.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Y¡¯know what? Good! We could use a battle-fiend right now.¡±

    ¡°Though, they asked for a concession.¡±

    ¡°What do they want?¡±

    ¡°They want the freedom to conduct a kidnapping and ransom.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    What would they be asking for? Property? Dust? I¡¯d give both if they asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s something about revenge. Apparently, the brothel wasn¡¯t just hit by the Princess¡¯s pet.¡±

    ¡°I would sure fucking hope not! Who else?¡±

    ¡°A butler and Brain Unglaus.¡±

    It was Hilma¡¯s turn to lurch. She hadn¡¯t dealt with his band since the Black Night, they having fled back east almost immediately after the conspiracy¡¯s failure. The last she had heard of them came not from merchants talk, but from worker chatter. Apparently, their entire outfit had been rumored slaughtered by a powerful undead by the name of Honyopenyoko.

    ¡°Brain is alive? The news that filtered out of E-Rantel made it sound like his hideout was torn to bits by that vampire.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, but he¡¯s here.¡±

    ¡°In the service of the Princess?¡±

    ¡°Apparently.¡±

    Hilma half laughed, half cried. It was too much for her to bear.

    ¡°A-and this butler. A fencer?¡±

    ¡°No, a brawler. I think- I think it¡¯s related to what you mentioned this morning.¡±

    ¡°Why Six Arms was hired by Cocco in the first place, right. I guess they plan on luring this butler in too.¡±

    He must have combat prowess as a monk if he was able to fight alongside two swordsmen unarmed.

    ¡°Yes, actually, they wanted your help on the merchant''s side. They¡¯re trying to run down said butler who¡¯s serving as a proxy for a female noble visiting the area and making trade deals. He¡¯s older, apparently handsome too.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the rumors of that haughty heiress and her dashing knight in shining gray; I¡¯ve heard of it. That¡¯s the man? Anyway, we¡¯re off course. My answer is yes, to every condition. Return tonight with payment, and mention my support in hunting down the visiting merchant. Have they gotten Succulent out yet?¡±

    ¡°He broke free in a prisoner transfer, I heard.¡±

    ¡°Good, at least they¡¯ll be at fighting strength.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to order this place cleared out?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t evacuating. We¡¯re ending this tomorrow night.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°How? We¡¯d need the princess dead, and assassination turned down the request.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send Luca.¡±

    ¡°What? No offense, Hilma he¡¯s going to-¡±

    ¡°They have a wizard. He bestows invisibility on their rogue, hands him a crossbow. It¡¯ll only take a single poison bolt fired through a window. I¡¯ll pay them well. I¡¯ll pay them a fucking fortune, and if they refuse, I¡¯ll cut them off from my product. You forget, last time, we deployed en masse as a buffer against a civil war. She¡¯s just a princess with a gift from heaven. She isn¡¯t a fucking hero, she isn¡¯t some pox from the Greed Kings, she isn¡¯t a monster in the flesh. She¡¯s just a sixteen-year-old in over her head, and I am not going to allow some morally righteous teenage girl topple my fucking opperation!¡±

    ¡ª

    [Transference T+0000Äê01ÔÂ27ÈÕ]

    ¡°Summary on full report on movements of person of interest AA-4 (hereon referred to as ¡®subject¡¯). Observation period began at time 18:01 on day plus 56 and ended at 23:23. Subject initially observed in room 3.3-35-B (hereon referred to as subject¡¯s quarters), in Special Location AA-1.

    From start of observation period to 19:13, subject worked on mathematical studies (note: appearance of work congruent with descriptions of region AA''s arcane script, it is believed this was magical study with no practice of spells). At 19:13, maid entered subject¡¯s quarters to inform them of the return of person of interest AE-1136. Subject spoke to member of Sociopolitical Bloc of Interest 8 (hereon referred to as maids) until 19:14, who then left, then spent until 19:18 pacing room, at which point she then prepared an additional brew of tea. At 19:32, subject was given report written by AE-1136 by person-of-interest AE-975, accompanied by two of AE-975¡¯s subordinates (Note: Armed Force of Interest AE-6). After reading report, subject left room at 19:35, observation specialist following, to room 3.2-12-A (here-on referred to as strategic forum), arriving at 19:42.

    Subject then spoke to on-duty maid, requested stationary (full list of items listed in Appendix I), and that she summon representatives of Sociopolitical Blocs of Interest 2, 3, and 4 who were stationed at Special Location AA-1 at 20:15 (full list of representatives summoned listed in Appendix II). Maid returned with requested items by 19:52, subject requesting porridge as supper. Subject spent period from 19:52 to 20:16 drafting document based on report, representatives arriving from 20:13 onward. Subject then delivered speech concerning the document she had just drafted (full speech is written in transcript below), finishing remarks by 20:19. Subject spent until 20:31 answering questions, at which point she then returned to her quarters by 20:38, and spent until 20:49 drinking tea. At 20:49, subject stood and made for room 3.3-35-C, then interrupted by arrival of person-of-interest AE-1136. Subject and person-of-interest spoke until 21:05 about the activities of AE-1136, person-of-interest IU-86, and the Head Butler. AE-1136 then retired, subject summoned maid through use of magic bell (see subject inventory below), where-upon subject spoke to maid about AE-1136¡¯s report until 21:12. Subject then dismissed maid, and proceeded to bed, completing nightly routine by 21:38. Subject fell asleep by 22:16, and remained asleep for remainder of observation period.

    Analysis: Subject has obtained second-hand capacity and capabilities information of Exposure Hazard - Class 7. Direct threat assessment is considered to be 0; Subject is humanoid of a level range consistent with Region AA, with expected physical parameters (note: Mana level is elevated over baseline by 11.11%, this level is insufficient for minimum viable resolution, Subject is incapable of magic casting). Subject is not believed to have obtained any actionable intelligence, nor have the ability to act on said intelligence of Exposure Hazard Class 5 or below if obtained.

    Recommendations: A further operation to acquire copy of subject''s written statement is advisable. Subject is not recommended for further enhanced observation. Subject is not recommended for retrieval, capture, interrogation, or termination.

    Observation Specialist Nineteen, Intelligence Compilation and Synthesis Officer Twelve, Provisional Office of Nazarick Extended Special Defense.¡±

    Demiurge drew his mouth to the side. The summary had been written in the typically curt hand of the unliving, the sort of rigid adherence to procedure that left no room for prose - not merely ignorance of it, but an active rejection. He fanned forward a few pages and browsed the full report, experiencing a pang of disappointment as he saw row after row of block text, each character written without regard for the weight of its strokes, and each word written without care to metre. Dismayed, he raised his gaze level to the door of his office, deciding for the moment to simply digest what he had read. Over the last half-day and most of the night, Demiurge had found a new subject of interest: Princess Renner of Re-Estize.

    In less than an hour, she managed to turn a surprise action - no, a setback - on the part of her subordinate into a political victory. Combine this with her secret war against Eight Fingers, her policy proposals, and her penchant for light troublemaking, and it produces quite the picture. Impressive for a human.

    That he was now sitting in his office on the seventh floor dedicating his time to the study of a human was a testament to the quantity of work he had accomplished and the productivity he had achieved over the last eleven days. The month previous had been spent in exploratory capacity, searching for and testing species to best suit his needs in the making of scrolls; these had gone well, and Demiurge had felt ready to advance the project. The project in Tob had been slowing for some time, daily balance sheet reports from the Guardian Overseer showing a steady fall off in the consumption of resources and labor. This seemed to tie in smoothly with his experiments entering their concluding stages, and he contacted Aura intending a gradual handoff of construction teams and engineers as he prepared to transition from laboratory proof-of-concepts to full-scale production.

    What he had instead gotten from her was a cheerful ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± and thus eighty-percent of Nazarick¡¯s labor pool dropped into his lap in the course of a twenty-seven conversation. Severe under-preparation was - to him - a barely adequate descriptor for the situation. Further, his master had suggested some weeks prior the potential utility of his newly created undead in fabrication, Demiurge only understanding the intention behind his words after the conversation with Aura; it was a command to work tirelessly, one he joyously accepted.

    Each second he spent idle meant wasting roughly six lich, imp, golem, and skeleton minutes, so he threw out any concept of rest and dove wholeheartedly into his work. By hour two, he and the Elder Lich engineers had scaled up the plans twelve-fold to account for his master¡¯s unspoken orders; by hour eight, they had clearcut, stripped, and leveled the farm¡¯s footplant; by hour eighteen, the first buildings had gone up. This pace of work had gone unbroken until yesterday, this just in time to be given the reports Sebas had compiled on the Kingdom, which in turn was just enough time to read them before being summoned by his master to Re-Estize for a second matter with the head butler; mainly, the fallout from an ill conceived plot to have righteous vengeance on the humans that had harmed his new pet.

    Somehow, the rescue of a single human female on day-plus forty-nine - by the human calendar, the twenty-sixth of the previous month - had turned into an assault on a brothel alongside two humans, one a ronin at the lowest point in his life, the other the personal bodyguard of a princess. Sebas in his heroism had either failed to question the latter; mainly, why a boy with equipment a step above those around him in the personal service of a princess would only have one name, or - and more likely to Demiurge - he had wholeheartedly accepted the situation as some grand act of valor on the part of that boy''s mistress. Sebas''s love of that concept, then, had blinded him to several points of import. Those being, that for some reason, a princess in a patrilineal society had somehow acquired a commoner as a bodyguard, granted said commoner a panoply of equipment that far and away exceeded the typical kits of this nation''s men-at-arms, and somehow that this boy had had the time to join him for a raid. This was entirely unexpected, highly unusual, and deeply intriguing.

    It¡¯s not unusual for the reputations of royalty to proceed them, but the particularities of hers are so divergent from those of her siblings that I can''t help but suspect greater hands at work. Her title is an enigma in its own right; not the pompous, self inflationary praise that high bloods tend to lump on themselves, but one she has genuinely earned. She is not Her Highness, The Third Princess; she is Her Highness, The Golden Princess, and that is in its own right an anomaly.

    She¡¯s as competent as Jircniv, or slightly ahead. He seems to copy her policies, national situation permitting. How has she ideated any of this? Many of these concepts aren¡¯t known to the nobility¡¯s zeitgeist. As an example, her ban on slavery. Her words were typically abolitionist, but the actual text of her proposal, the way she wished to dismantle the systems through incentive structures both to the emancipated and the owners shows a clear understanding of the actual inefficiencies of the system. That she advocated for the granting of tenancy to those guards who would lose their employment shows at the very least an understanding of humanity¡¯s neuroticism, or potentially the more abstract concept of surplus.

    Still, a ban on slavery, construction of highways, tax incentives for adventurers, all were framed in the light of helping the common man. None of her proposals have strengthened the nobility relative to the peasantry, only an absolute improvement over the breadth of the nation itself. I half expect her to find her advocating for healing-service subsidies to the churches. Perhaps this could be an experiment in control. Rational, intelligent, practical, forward-thinking, duty-bound to her people; all qualities that would make her possible to predict and outmaneuver. Her and El-Nix; it¡¯s as if each human civilization gets one individual like that in or close to power - though the Roble Holy Kingdom and Slane Theocracy still bear investigation.

    Demiurge sighed, deciding that he shouldn¡¯t put off reading the report. It would be a different matter if the author had been somebody else - another lich, a different fel or fey beast, or one of his own subordinates - but the one that had written it had been a creation of his master. To delay reading it was, at the very least, an insult to Lord Ainz. He was left with an instant sensation of regret, inner guilt at his impropriety. He looked down to it again, but before his eyes could catch words on the page, the oddest of revelations came barreling into the moment and right through his train of thought.

    Except she hasn¡¯t. She hasn¡¯t advocated for subsidizing divine practitioners. Why? Many commoners are priced out of medical services. Further, in cities with both an increased ratio of divine casters - a higher per-capita mana pool - and a higher workplace accident rate, even small amounts of spending would have significant impact, raising productivity and reducing losses of partially educated individuals. It¡¯s not simply a matter of marginal social benefit, but hard economic surplus. Why hasn¡¯t she seen this?

    There was no immediate answer to this question, his mind spinning fruitlessly for a time. On a flit to break this, he decided to go through one of his focus rituals, and pulled his glasses from his face. Gently pulling a folded cleaning cloth off his desk, he went about cleaning them. With a spritz from a small bottle of distillate and a quick rub, he wiped down the ins and outs of his prosthetic. Finished, he raised them to eyelevel to inspect, the lenses catching the light reflected by his gemstone eyes. Satisfied, he set them back on his face and refolded the cloth.

    Her lighting proposal. She clearly recognizes the value of city laborers, of artisans and craftsmen. She understands the importance of urban industry, the entire scheme was a rather ingenious conclusion that humans do not need the whole night to rest; once again a material reality that she has recognized ex nihilo and formed into policy. This insufficiency in medical care is easier to identify and find a solution too, so why hasn¡¯t she proposed it?

    Demiurge was preempted by a baseline urge to label this irrationality on the part of the Princess a typical ¡°human¡± error. She being a human, and humans being fleshy things fashioned by a steady whetting of biotic and abiotic selectors, imperfection was a thing written into her blood. Their very existence in this world puzzled him, this was not made easier by the fact that by no means were humans anywhere near its pinnacle species. They were weak, and though perhaps more intelligent and more inclined to the practices of civilization - agriculture, animal husbandry, and division of labor - they were not enough so to challenge the true powers that soared o¡¯er mountain tops and lurked ¡®neath the waves. Even had they been, they would then never come close to matching the power of Nazarick, be it the synthetic beings of which he was counted among, or the platonic supremacy of their creators. Perfection was a thing known only to the Supreme Beings and only a shadow of that given unto their creations. Compared to that, he could not blame a human for making such an obvious mistake.

    Perhaps when my master finally feels fit to clean that place of lessers and appoints a battered and broken administrator, I could explain it to her. She would have quite the delectable expression, no? That sort of panicked look in the eye that even if the act was rendered moot by the razing of her nation, for a few years she could have given her people a brighter mote of hope to cling to. By that token, I ought to inform her now - the higher the leap, the harder the fall. Delicious, but impractical.

    Hazard of exposure aside, the consequences to the Royal Family and to the Royal Faction of sending money to the churches in a secular state is an issue by itself. This, of course, would mean nothing to a merciful woman who''s more interested in ¡°the common good¡± than the political miasma of her kingdom - she¡¯d probably dissolve into lamentations on the spot. A proper shame I could not go and push her into it myself; I¡¯ll have to settle with watching from the side as she once again strikes a barrier of her nation¡¯s inner ineptitude.

    For a reason he couldn¡¯t identify, his usual sadistic fantasies fell flat in his mind, getting none of the reliable entertainment they typically provided. Imagining the tear streaked, panicked, and fearful face of a human was only enjoyable when he could do so properly. Play of the mind without solid foundation in reality was almost always vapid, and Demiurge that all the joy of the moment had already been sucked out by just such a problem.

    It ought to be a well-worn grievance for her by now, which makes her failure all the more egregious. I don¡¯t see how she could fail to know.

    Time went trundling onward, yet his mind was stuck. The thoughts he had just uttered  to himself echoed again and again in his head, blurring into a lingering continuum of unpleasant sensensations that told him something was wrong. He made a few more futile swipes at the problem, trying to concoct a solution. This didn¡¯t work, and the sense that something was incorrect grew. The deadlock dragged out for a full minute, and he turned his head about halfway through to look out from the terrace where his desk sat to the netherine realms beyond. The ruined columns that surrounded him framed the red eruptions of his home; swooping imps silhouetted by jets of magma dove from perches in the kraggy ceiling above. Despite his frustration, Demiurge couldn¡¯t help but feel a mote of wonderment; the sight was a testament to the care and meticulous effort of his creator, a monument of such splendor and beauty that it could only be called love.

    She does know. She has yet to suggest it because of the political implications of providing funds to the churches directly. Still, it seems as if she''s the type to chafe against such concerns, not bow to them. Is that not what sets her apart from her contemporaries?

    A large explosion came, a bubble of vapor in the magna bursting at the surface and throwing pyroclasts into the air. The ejecta streaked in all directions, the highest globules striking the ceiling; imps and quasits rushed for cover, nestling in the vulcanized pores above as the liquid slowly dripped away. The molten rock reversed in the air, becoming a sharp downpour as it returned to the lake. Some droplets launched parabolically from the explosion reached the shore, causing a pitter-patter as their half-frozen forms splattered against the basalt sand.

    I''ve misread her character, but in what way? Is she shrewder than I thought on first appearance, with a higher affinity for the zero-sum gamesmanship of court politics? No, most of her policies are rejected on the very basis that they would weaken Vaiself relative to the other houses. She is aware, and yet she has not acted. Strange.

    Demiurge watched for a moment longer, before opening and plunging one of his hands into a drawer in his desk. Running his fingers along the parchments inside, he felt for the texture of swine¡¯s skin, pigmen being one of the species whose epidermis had proven suitably strong to inscribe second tier spells. Finding it, he withdrew the vellum, closed the drawer, and tossed it into the air. It ignited and consumed itself in azure flame, and he felt his mind brush up against another.

    ¡°Yes, Lord Demiurge?¡±

    ¡°Reassign Observation Specialist Nineteen for round-the-clock tracking of person-of-interest AA-4, effective immediately."

    ¡°Duration of assignment?¡±

    ¡°Indefinite.¡±

    ¡°This will require changes to patrol patterns. To avoid gaps, the area each specialist will need to observe will increase by 5.88%, and increases the duty on the courier by-"

    ¡°I am aware. I will summon a replacement whom you may assign to the lowest priority observation area. If observation period continues to its time of expiry, I will authorize the transfer of a demon from NDZ-1. I believe the Pleiades have that location well at hand.¡±

    ¡°Affirmative. Please allow me to apologize for my hasty suggestion.¡±

    ¡°Apology accepted. I wish for updates each half day¡­ no, each quarter day. That is all.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    The adjacency dissolved, and he was once again alone.

    Perhaps her motivations are more complex than they first appear.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (19)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 4]

    Climb looked ready to break under the weight of her comrades¡¯ stares, and as impressed as Lakyus was, she couldn¡¯t help but pity him.

    "With Ampetif Doll and Succulent in hand, the two marched on down to the guard post in Rine, and threw those men right into the gaol. Of course, those poor women needed aid too, and so they have to be left there for now. That said, I¡¯m moving them to the protection of a mercenary band. With time, I should be able to bring them to my demesne and find housing for them; I¡¯ll need to speak with Magistrate Elrec on that point, but he dare not refuse. In any case, having done all that, Brain went on to the Warrior Captain''s residence and Climb returned here."

    "You gave him a hero''s welcome, right?"

    "I don''t think the kid could take one. He''d get all teary eyed, start whining about how he doesnt deserve it."

    Can¡¯t you two keep your mouths shut for one-

    "Mm. If only. No, I didn''t get to see him immediately."

    Lakyus¡¯s chide died in her mouth, Renner embracing her comrades¡¯ jests in stride.

    "Why?"

    "Our new defensive coordinator decided to make a show of things. In all his heroics, Climb had failed to repair. Nominally, I would simply march down to Ro-Lante and sort things out with a few prying words. As much as our dear Sir Jelka served to hamper Climb in the day to day, he would never obstruct him. Helgrave, however¡­"

    Renner¡¯s tone was biting, stressing the first syllable in Helgrave¡¯s name as she flicked her eyes off to the side. Lakyus saw an opportunity to tease.

    "Y''know, Renner, I''ve never heard you sound so disdainful."

    "Disdain? Fair, though perhaps a better word would be ¡®despisal¡¯. I''ve rarely felt so insulted by the actions of a man."

    Renner¡¯s wore a mock hardline expression for a time, before it collapsed into a general weariness.

    "No¡­ my troubles with him aside, Helgrave is Vellen''s toy, and Vellen is Boullope''s."

    What?!

    The mood split: Renner¡¯s words were only understood by Lakyus, Climb, and Evileye, the three stiffening to the confusion of their compatriots. This, in turn, annoyed Lakyus - she still had not managed to drill the intricacies of palace politics into their heads. Renner''s implacability made this all the more baffling, her tone - though low - had a tired quality to it.

    Why isn¡¯t she in the least concerned? She¡¯s speaking like this is a routine ill. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s resigned herself to being surrounded by traitors.

    "You think he-"

    "No, I don''t. Not wittingly. He lost men on the Black Night, and to that he seemed genuinely devastated. By a stripe, so did Vellen. Information has a habit of floating to the top is all. In any case, Climb said the correct things, protecting both Brain and this Sebas character¡­ I''ve gone and put you on edge, haven''t I?"

    "It''s fine."

    "I do apologize."

    "It''s fine."

    "Right. All correct then."

    Lakyus immediately regretted the tone of her rejection, though Renner gratefully remained unmoved. Gently pivoting her head to look at Gagaran, she raised an eyebrow and quizzed.

    ¡°Miss Gagaran, did you have something to say?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, are you sure about him? Er, Brain, I mean. Considering the fact that Eight Fingers was willing two months prior to hire his band.¡±

    ¡°It was never his band per say, but that¡¯s getting pedantic; consider the negative perspective, Gagaran. What sort of grand conspiracy would that be on the part of our opponents? Hiring Unglaus only to have him kill half a dozen of their men, wound Succulent, then help capture Cocco Doll?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Wouldn¡¯t that make sense?¡±

    Tina silently nodded along with her sister¡¯s question. Gagaran seemed similarly plexed. Renner clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side, resting her lower lip on her teeth as her eyes danced back and forth between the Blue Roses.

    ¡°Mm¡­ how would I explain? While yes, it¡¯s possible, I wouldn¡¯t by any means call it plausible. It sounds like the beliefs of those loquacious noblemen that insist they¡¯ve pieced together the exact way in which the Black Night came together. In a sense, incoherent. Unbelievable.¡±

    It feels like there¡¯s a story there. I should push.

    ¡°You speak with a little bitterness.¡±

    ¡°My sister has fallen to that talk. Her letters have grown somewhat inane. ¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t speak ill of the Ryle- redact that, the Vaiself matriarch, but her supposition that the Noble Faction, Baharuth, Zurranorn, Eight Fingers, loathsome merchants, and villein villains are all conspiring together to undo the kingdom is a little¡­ stretched. Irrespective, my darling Twin Killers and Woman of Mystery, you understand, yes?¡±

    ¡°Got it-¡±

    ¡°-Got it-.¡±

    ¡°-Got it.¡±

    ¡°All three of you are slow.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, runt. I could punt you out that window.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try.¡±

    ¡°Please do, it sounds-¡±

    ¡°Entertaining.¡±

    All four of you?! By the will of the Gods!

    Exasperated by the banter, Lakyus opened her mouth to reprimand the group as a whole, pausing only as she heard a muffled giggling from Renner. There was a chirp-like quality to it, a gentle beat that seized the moment and Lakyus along with it. Climb was caught in the same trap, frozen by that same sound, though likely in a completely separate fashion.

    I have no way of knowing what that sounds like to him, do I?

    "Oy oy, virgin-"

    Renner¡¯s laughter died instantly. Lakyus, finally seeing her opportunity, smacked Gagaran upside the head.

    "Ow! What did I- oh, right. Sorry, Your Highness."

    "I just wish you would stop calling him that infront of me."

    "Right. Uh, anyway, Climb, do you think he could take me on?"

    "Who, Sebas? Um¡­ I wouldn''t be able-"

    "Brutal. You''re eviscerating her, kid."

    "No, I-"

    "Yeah, just say ¡®yes¡¯ next time. Still, not bad, cherry boy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m with musclemounds on this. Apprehending a member of Six Arms is a pretty big deal.¡±

    The twins took this as permission to launch into their analysis of Six Arms¡¯ capability, Tia listing each member off dispassionately.

    ¡°Davernoch the Undying King; Peshurian the Void Cutter; Edstr?m of the Dancing Scimitars; Malmvist of the Thousand Kills; Succulent the Phantom Devil; and then their leader, Zero, The Battle Demon.¡±

    ¡°Davernoch is an undead. Peshurian has a whip blade to attack at a distance. Edstr?m is adept with several magic weapons. Malmvist is a fencer: poisoned blade, adept at lunges. Succulent is, well, already down. Zero is a brawler, hand-to-hand master. Combat ability of each is likely adamantite.¡±

    ¡°Mmm. Catching one is a¡­ well, it¡¯s a big help to us.¡±

    This intelligence had been a dual effort: half came from a conference with the Warrior-Captain, in which he described notable aspects of their physical appearance, battlegear and its likely enchantments, and the diverse fighting styles of each; half came from a stolen communiqu¨¦ Renner had cracked which had netted names, availability, and pricing. Synthesizing those two sources had given the Blue Roses and company a rich image of their adversaries, and they had steadily divined measures, countermeasures, and countercountermeasures to defeat their opponents. Renner was - as usual - worried about code names, fretting about swaps or scrambles that she had missed.

    She always misses the most obvious things. I find it funny that she thinks that any adventurer, dark or not, would ever operate under a pseudonym.

    ¡°Climb, this was good work. I mean, it was good fortune that you met Brain Unglaus and fought by his side, but still.¡±

    ¡°The fact that he could gut Succulent in a single draw proves that Unglaus¡¯s ability wasn¡¯t a myth. I mean, I knew he fought nearly on par with Gazef, though hearing about it from someone who did combat with him is a different matter. That said, I¡¯m more interested in that old butler. What sort of man does he have to be to earn a shrug and preemptive surrender from Brain?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get Mister Sebas¡¯s address.¡±

    ¡°Hm, Climb, did you not ask because you knew you shouldn¡¯t have, or did he not tell you because he was wary? Which one?¡±

    ¡°Er, both, Lady Evileye. I mean, maybe he would have told me if I had asked; but Mister Sebas volunteered his help anyway, even though I was the one who involved him in this. I did not want to learn anything which might cause him difficulty.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a good kid, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Yup, what the runt said.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense to me, why have we never heard of him?¡±

    We¡¯re getting off topic.

    ¡°Perhaps it would be best to leave Sebas aside for now. If not for him, we would not have found the accurate location of the brothel and we would not have captured the head of Slavery, Cocco Doll. Both Climb and ourselves are indebted to him. We can bring this matter up later.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Lakyus. Then, your Highness, you said you wanted to revise your plans for the next few days. Does that mean we¡¯ll be attacking another place besides the Syndicalists Game?¡±

    ¡°Quite correct, Miss Evileye. It is my sincere wish that we do not trifle with a single target, rather, as many as we can spare. All at once, I wish to strike six places. Time is not a resource we have to burn.¡±

    Renner¡¯s words were followed by a moment of silence. The day suddenly seemed to be standing on the edge of a chasm.

    Does she mean that? I think she does.

    ¡°Er, but Your Highness, I believe we¡¯ve had discussions before about this. It¡¯s a manpower issue. Did you- did someone agree to help us last night? We can¡¯t go through the guild for this, can we?¡±

    ¡°The most stupid thing we could do is to involve the city guard in order to bulk up our numbers. Those bastards have the guards in their pocket. I mean, we can use then for cleanup duty, I guess, but otherwise you¡¯d be begging for trouble.¡±

    ¡°The same with borrowing house troops from the nobles. We can¡¯t ask them for help, too many of them are in bed with Eight Fingers.¡±

    ¡°Hmph. The only people we can trust are Mister Stronoff and the men loyal to him, his warriors¡­ well, no, I guess that¡¯s not a guarantee either. His warriors that is.¡±

    That¡¯s a terrifying thought. What is she thinking, suggesting we go after every base at once? Agh, it doesn¡¯t matter. This is going to be bad for morale if I let this go on. Take control, then pass it to her. She¡¯ll reason this out.

    ¡°Your points all have some truth to them. It all comes down to the same problem: we don¡¯t know how far the rot goes. We can¡¯t predict who¡¯s trustworthy and who¡¯s not. Still, we can¡¯t stand by and examine the Kingdom out of its disease. We can¡¯t excise and expunge the problem while being torn in eight separate directions. Renner-¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Therefore, I thought to ask a reliable noble for help.¡±

    Lakyus felt a mote of relief. Renner was - at the very least - a friend who knew how and when to come to her aid.

    ¡°You know of trustworthy nobles, Princess?¡±

    ¡°I do, Miss Evileye. Not to disparage those consanguine to me, but there simply aren''t many. However, I do know one of repute.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And who is that, Renner? I don¡¯t doubt your judgment, but if we¡¯re talking a barony out in the hinterlands, it''s not like it matters. There¡¯s no guarantee that he¡¯ll be able to muster up enough men from his domain either.¡±

    ¡°I very much doubt that will be a problem. Ah, since he was brought up, the Warrior Captain will be alongside us as well.¡±

    ¡°Good, that¡¯s understandable.¡±

    ¡°Mm, he¡¯s a reliable man. Or rather, if even he¡¯s in bed with Eight Fingers, then we¡¯re finished.¡±

    ¡°Climb, please go and send summons to Marquis Raeven. He was present at the last session of the House of Lords, so he ought to still be within the city.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s confusion returned again.

    What does she want with him? She isn¡¯t going to seek aid from him, is she? He¡¯d be able to force almost any terms on her, if she had anything to offer at all.

    ¡°The Marquis? I did see him in the company of the Prince.¡±

    ¡°Oy, oy, Princess. Are you sure you can trust this Marquis guy?¡±

    ¡°They say Raeven¡¯s a bat.¡±

    ¡°A bat who flits between the Royal and Noble factions. Considering that, then I don¡¯t see how Eight Fingers¡¯ filthy lucre wouldn''t move him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want him leaking intelligence about us, Princess.¡±

    I can¡¯t stand this.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, all of you! Ahhh, Renner, Marquis Raeven has never exactly left a good impression on me. Are you certain he¡¯s trustworthy?¡±

    ¡°Certain? Not in the slightest. And - to my knowledge - he has taken money from Eight Fingers.¡±

    At that, the day finished waffling and promptly leapt off into the abysm. More silence followed.

    ¡°Is¡­ are you trying to spread false information to manipulate the enemy?¡±

    ¡°We did that before some assassinations. Spread news about blades coming from elsewhere to divert attention of security personnel.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not it, Miss Tina and Miss Tia. Taking money is a promise, and promises among the great six are never unbreakable. One may simply choose to take the money without providing loyalty. I was always waiting to discover my Ryle¡¯s vice, I suppose I¡¯ve now found it; gambling. If his relationship with Eight Fingers is closer than I thought¡­ ah, no matter. Climb, I repeat my directive. Summon the Marquis. If he hesitates, confirm the destruction of the brothel and the capture of the head slaver - I¡¯m uncertain if that news has made it back to them.¡±

    ¡°Should I speak about capturing the head of the slave trade? I- Your servant believes that it might be better to keep it a secret, at least for now.¡±

    ¡°We need to approach with open arms and upward palms if we want him on our side. Doing so is the best proof that we trust him.

    ¡°Your servant understands. Then, I¡¯ll depart now.¡±

    ¡°Please do, Climb.¡±

    He stood, bowed, and left the room. The door closed with a punctuating click.

    ¡°Now, since this will take some time, shall we have tea?¡±

    ¡°Yes. For all of us. The rest of you aren¡¯t allowed to refuse.¡±

    Lakyus pivoted around in her chair to sweep her gaze across her compatriots.

    ¡°That¡¯s an order. Anything in particular?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m feeling something exotic, Karnassus White?¡±

    ¡°A little much, no? Shouldn¡¯t we save something like that until after we crush Eight Fingers into the dirt?¡±

    Renner again giggled in that special way of hers.

    ¡°I have a jar of Bloodleaf for just that purpose.¡±

    Bloodleaf?! Here? How much is she willing to spend on refreshments? First the milk and now this.

    ¡°How did you even¡­ where did you get it from?¡±

    ¡°An elf vendor of the Dark variety. Or so I believe - I¡¯m not good with their kins. Anyway, that would mean deep south¡­ maybe. I did do a test brew, and I can speak to its properties first hand; it really does turn the water the color of blood. It¡¯s a bit macabre, but it does taste quite wonderful. It made me feel positively vampiric.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡±

    Crap. We still haven¡¯t told her about Evileye, have we? Though, I don¡¯t think that will ever happen.

    Lakyus sighed inwardly. The obligations of adventuring life often come into collision with the tenants of her faith, but very rarely did that intersection continue along and blunder into her friendships as well. Though she had absolute faith in Renner¡¯s ability to keep silent, the identity of Landfall was a thing of myth, and Renner - for all her wit and cleverness - was merely a princess. Magic could rip her will away from her, put her in coercive agony, or draw the words out of her corpse. Often, secrets only needed to be kept within a lifespan, but Evileye did not have one, and thus that unspoken caveat all living beings applied to their guarded thoughts simply did not apply. Renner could never be told. Time passed without anyone speaking, Renner¡¯s practiced tea-making routine smooth and unyielding. Soon, she finished, and presented the five women cups of a flax-colored beverage. Lakyus took a sip, and memories of the floral yet nutty flavor flooded her. It was as good as she recalled.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had this in years; the last time I did was here, I think.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you said the last time, down to the word.¡±

    ¡°How do you remember that?¡±

    Renner shrugged as she took her first taste.

    ¡°How does the sea rush to shore?¡±

    ¡°The will of He of the Crashing Wave.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. It¡¯s but a product of another will. No matter. I¡¯m going to shift to practical talk if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never needed my permission; go ahead.¡±

    ¡°All the following is contingent on Raeven lending us his house forces. We will be striking the six remaining targets in the seized note: a bank, a manor, a storefront, a hideout, a warehouse, and a villa. You will strike the sites, fight their forces, arrest as many as possible, and seize evidence. This necessitates that you lead squads of men, each to assist you in your assaults. We will need to scout each location, confirm that its description matches what we believe to be there, and confirm the presence of Eight Fingers on site. How you do that is at your discretion.¡±

    ¡°Tia, Tina, Evileye.¡±

    The three women nodded, accepting the reconnaissance assignments.

    ¡°Raeven¡¯s forces include a number of professional soldiers, which he supplements both with adventurer teams and levy. The latter won¡¯t be of use to us, but his forces are designed to excel in demesne security and battlefield skirmishing. Excepting the adventurers, expect them to be at a comparative dearth of experience and equipment compared to Eight Fingers enforcers, though with higher organization and cohesion. As such, they do not possess significant numbers of casters, be they heavenly or chasmic. Thus, we have two organizations I wish to seek assistance from.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Those being?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll contact the Magicians Guild and request the presence of retained staff, specifically abjurers and evokers. Any magic that can successfully batter, bind or blind the enemy is advantageous to our mission. For them, they¡¯ll be able to cut down those who bypass their channels for magic items, and strengthen their business. The second group is somewhat¡­ sensitive.¡±

    ¡°What would that be?¡±

    ¡°Lakyus, could you beseech the churches for aid?¡±

    The moment hung. Of the many millions of kingdom faithful, none had been granted greater divine favor than Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra. Discounting the exceptional women of Roble, and the rumored individuals of Slane who mixed proper worship with unspeakable blasphemy and idolatry, she was the greatest servant of her God alive. That this unique aegis had been not granted to a high priest or a paladin, but rather to an adolescent girl turned runaway adventurer had been a snub to the churches the Gods never cared to explain. This, along with her tendency for private worship, had made her relationship with the organized faithful exceedingly complicated, and this ask of Renner¡¯s less than simple to fulfill.

    ¡°To be sure, but for what, specifically?¡±

    ¡°We have few healers among us, and while we can perhaps rope in a few pharmacists to our cause, I simply don¡¯t have the coin to outfit each squad with an alchemical suite.¡±

    They wouldn¡¯t refuse me, would they? How could they? This isn¡¯t for me, but for the good of the Kingdom. They¡¯ll assent; I¡¯m almost certain.

    ¡°Then, I believe so.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful! We would need one priest per squad, someone capable of blade and bolt wounds.¡±

    ¡°Poisons as well.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Oh, quite right, Miss Tia.¡±

    ¡°Magic and alchemical burns as well, probably someone specialized in the handling of undead.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Forgive me, Lakyus; those things as well.¡±

    Lakyus cracked a warm smile.

    ¡°Doable.¡±

    ¡°All correct, then. That''s all for support personnel, next is target selection. Lakyus, I¡¯m sending you to Dalenoc Manor; it''s the nexus of the Smuggling Division, and I¡¯m sure the implications of that are obvious.¡±

    They aren¡¯t, but I think I can guess what she¡¯s aiming at.

    ¡°It¡¯s the hardest target?¡±

    ¡°By far. Every rat in this city is going to flee, but none are willing to part with their take. The infrastructure will be strained well past its limits. There may be over a hundred on site. You¡¯ll get the largest portion of the forces Raeven provides. I¡¯ll leave the battle planning to you, but expect a high quantity of varied enemy forces. If we¡¯re lucky, they won''t have tactical cohesion, but I wouldn¡¯t count on it.

    Evileye, you¡¯re getting the bank; the matter requires a certain level of discretion that your magic provides; invisibility, silence, and the ability to bypass or incapacitate large numbers of bystanders; you should just need to capture a few managers - the rest on site are unimportant. Tina, you¡¯re flipping a cards table; the space is tight, no civilians will be present; simply act as vanguard and waylay their soldiers in advance of your force. Tia, you¡¯re getting the second hardest target; the assassination division has a hideout buried deep in the sewers underneath the city; the space is tight, lights will be out; you¡¯ll leave your men on the surface and go in alone; everyone present is a wetworker, you¡¯re free to be indiscriminate. Gagaran, I¡¯m sending you to a warehouse. You¡¯ll catch it as it''s being emptied. Resistance should be light.¡±

    ¡°Oy! That¡¯s not fair! How come I¡¯m getting the easy job?!¡±

    ¡°Eh? I don¡¯t believe it was that¡­ forgive me for this, but I hazard that smashing crates with your warpick would be entertaining. Feel free to break everything.¡±

    Gagaran broke into laughter, the entire group following a moment later.

    ¡°Forgive me for my jest, I- ahh, I¡¯m feeling electric.¡±

    Wait. Six targets. Doesn¡¯t that mean the person getting the villa is Climb? Isn¡¯t that the property of the Security Division?

    Lakyus¡¯s thoughts halted, and despite herself, she swallowed.

    What is she thinking? I don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s not a guarantee that they¡¯ll be there, but if they are¡­ Yes, he faced down Succulent, but by no means would he- Gods even I wouldn¡¯t be able to face down all six at once. He lost his duel against Succulent. Why would she do that?

    Images of black things came to Lakyus; vivid imaginings of his mangled corpse, slain in any which number of ways. It was easy to imagine him getting killed. In the last two months, he had come close to the brink twice, relying on luck to save his life both times. Death was not something she was averse to; it was a constant in her line of work, the steady knowledge that a request might be too much to handle. For herself and for her comrades, she was able to accept that risk: she knew she belonged to the Gods and that at any point they could choose to end her life and take her back. This was not the case for Climb nor Renner. Her reaction would simply be unimaginable.

    ¡°Lakyus, is something the matter¡±

    ¡°Renner, are you sending Climb to the Villa?¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s timbre had turned low, a cold and even manner of speaking. Renner cocked her head in confusion.

    ¡°Eh? It¡¯s the last target, is it not?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the property of the Security Division?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°Renner, what are you thinking?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Is¡­ is she really going to make me spell this out? How¡­ how do I even say this to her?

    ¡°What if Six Arms is there?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Renner¡¯s question had been unvoiced, a whisper that had been spoken so low and so quiet, Lakyus was certain it was an unintentional exhalation. Her eyes widened, and a horrified expression spread across her face.

    ¡°For the love of the Gods, no! I- forgive me- I¡­ No, I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll be at Dalenoc in force - too much money and manpower to leave unguarded. That¡¯s why I gave it to you. You can zone. You can heal and bolster. You can lead. Everything necessary for the rest of the team to come to your aid in time. Gods, I would never send him-¡±

    That all makes sense. Shit. Why didn¡¯t I think of that?

    Lakyus immediately felt like a fool. She had gone and terrified her friend for no good reason. Renner fell apart almost instantly. Before Lakyus could track, Renner was in tears, her words spilling over into others as her pace became more hectic and overwhelmed. She sprung forward in her chair, reaching out to grab Lakyus¡¯s hand. Her grip was tight.

    ¡°Please believe me. I would never-¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡±

    She¡¯s under a lot of stress, isn¡¯t she? I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t realize that.

    ¡°Do you think they would be there? If they are I¡¯d-¡±

    ¡°No, they won¡¯t.¡±

    She always seems so calm, so even keeled. I guess it''s an act; a way of keeping morale up for all of us.

    ¡°But if they decide in the final hour the coin isn¡¯t worth the effort and-¡±

    ¡°Renner, calm yourself.¡±

    She paused, eyes darting and lips quivering. She slowly slipped her hands from Lakyus¡¯s, drawing fully back into her seat. She brushed her face, clearing away moisture and recomposing herself. Together again, Renner took in a deep breath, slowly released it, and continued.

    ¡°A-apologies, I''m doing my best to keep myself put together in front of him.¡±

    ¡°I understand, I think-¡±

    ¡°I send him away once, off into the blue, and look at what happens. He puts himself in peril, and though his accomplishments were no small feat, he nearly died trying to do them. Stabbed through the small of the back by an invisible sword. How does one defend against that? How does one counter that? It¡¯s impossible for me to grasp. There, out of nothing, the air grows thick and one dies. They simply die. A point that breaks the skin, presses into the body, and leaks out everything. I keep thinking about it. So random, so capricious.

    It¡¯s moments like that that make me question my role in all this. Am I not just a princess? No, just a girl in the summer of her youth watching her servant go off to war? No, saying that is deceptive. I¡¯m sending him into it. At least, I¡¯ve let him chase his heroics; that wild sense in men that conflict is a glorious thing that death makes all the sweeter. How am I to save him from that? Do I even have the right? I don¡¯t know the answers to these things. I suppose¡­ I suppose I can only do that thing immemorial. Sit and wait.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in your service. You can keep him from this fight, Renner. We can afford-¡±

    ¡°And let one more base go unstruck? Let more one band of evildoers slip into the black with ill-gotten things? No, selfishness like that is unacceptable - one step down from treason. I refuse to betray this kingdom; I refuse to betray its people. Climb has sworn service to me. Thus, no matter how much I wish otherwise, no matter how much I wish to to scream, grab him, and hide him away, he must go into battle. Lakyus, we''re at the crux. There is no room for indecision. No room for weakness or flaw. We must be sanguine, we must be stalwart, we must be insurmountable, unbreakable, and impossible foes. I will not compromise on that. Though, perhaps I may be allowed one indulgence.¡±

    ¡°What indulgence?¡±

    ¡°What would it be, Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°To bring him back.¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Not for-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t. I¡¯m not interested in your charity. What would it be?¡±

    ¡°Five hundred trade coins. About.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I¡¯ll set that aside.¡±

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 4]

    Raeven took a sip from his glass, relishing the burn as the whiskey slipped down his gullet.

    ¡°So what does this plan of his mean for us?¡±

    ¡°Boullope¡¯s or Lytton¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Lytton¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°If I were to hazard a guess, not much. He¡¯ll stick by his master for now, accept his defeat in the election, and quietly pamper himself on whatever kickbacks Blumrush gave him.¡±

    ¡°Alright. That makes enough sense to me.¡±

    Raeven and Zanac were once again in Raeven¡¯s city manor, the two occupying a drawing room nestled in the east side of the house. That they were able to do this was the result of a revelation the pair had shared: there was no longer any objective in secrecy. All their clandestine meetings had been to disguise their inter-evaluations from others; now that they were both certain of each others¡¯ character, hiding would only be a detriment. The sooner they became a known element in court politics, the sooner people would begin to bargain with them for things they actually desired. After Raeven¡¯s offer of fealty, the pair had thus jointly decided to share the news of their new alliance as openly as possible, decorum permitting. This meeting was one of those proclamations, a wordless shout from the rooftops that the second most powerful house in the kingdom was now aligned with the second prince.

    ¡°Either way, this bolsters the position of the Noble Faction.¡±

    ¡°Why? No, wait, I have this.¡±

    Zanac paused, a quizitive look coming over his face.

    ¡°Because¡­ because it makes the Prime Ministership look like something worth fighting over.¡±

    ¡°Quite right, my prince. I see you have a keen grasp of the obvious.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you.¡±

    ¡°I have a loving wife for that.¡±

    ¡°The House of Lords is inaccessible to me - can¡¯t risk legitimizing the body any further. It¡¯s a small wonder I understand that enigma as much as I do.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps so.¡±

    ¡°Besides, isn¡¯t it just a numbers game?¡±

    ¡°Your Highness has a brutal way of invalidating my life¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°Ha! As if. You¡¯re single handedly responsible for our four to two majority. I ought to thank you for that¡­ though I won¡¯t.¡±

    Ah, right. The subject of Blumrush.

    Zanac chuckled at his own joke, and Raeven forced a smile in response. The moment was bitter. Raeven had yet to share the treason of his contemporary, having avoided it since he had first sworn service to Zanac. This was nothing but cowardice on his part, little more than unfounded fear of the Prince¡¯s reaction. As far as Raeven knew, he was the only soul in the Kingdom to know of Blumrush¡¯s betrayal. With another sip of his drink, he pulled in a breath, exhaled, and began to speak.

    ¡°My prince, there is an uncomfortable matter to discuss on that point.¡±

    ¡°Uncomfortable matter, or horrible truth?¡±

    ¡°Horrible truth.¡±

    ¡®Horrible truth¡¯ was the term the two men had settled on when discussing matters of grave import, great danger, and gruesome consequence. It was a flag to the other that what was about to be spoken was not jest and by no means should be taken lightly. Zanac gave a heavy sigh, and waved his hand.

    ¡°Alright, let''s hear it.¡±

    ¡°Blumrush is in the pocket of El-Nix.¡±

    Zanac went still, despondently staring into space without saying a word. It felt wholly inappropriate to notice, but Raeven was reminded of Ramposa; both father and son shared the same reaction to bad news. Eventually, Zanac swallowed and nodded, speaking in a somber tone.

    ¡°What does he do for them?¡±

    ¡°Provides intelligence. Some market cooperation.¡±

    ¡°Market cooperation?¡±

    The prince tilted his head slightly, clearly not understanding.

    ¡°He skims off the top of his production, builds reserves of steel stock, then dumps it onto the market late each winter for Baharuth to buy.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of cyclical prices in steel.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because it doesn¡¯t get shipped east. It¡¯s only sold in E-Rantel.¡±

    Zanac huffed, which, for some reason he couldn¡¯t pin down, made Raeven feel inadequate.

    Damnit, he¡¯s skeptical. How do I explain this? Gods, I¡¯ve never had to put this into words before, have I?

    ¡°Even so, any opportunistic merchant would simply-¡±

    ¡°Notice the pattern and buy it up, exactly. That¡¯s what happens, except Blumrush seeded brokers along the highway. In the beginning, they bought steel at slightly above the going rate, and this drove local commodities dealers out of business. After three years of this, he had his men start negotiating much harder positions, dropping the purchase price-

    I should mention a specific figure.

    ¡°-to eighty-five silver on the standard.¡±

    ¡°Gods above! Eighty-five?!¡±

    ¡°On average. In some towns, his men went as low as sixty-eight.¡±

    Silence again, Zanac so stunned, he stuttered his followup.

    ¡°A-are you telling me he formed an upside-down cartel?¡±

    ¡°Actually, he formed two. One in E-Rantel, and then this upside-down one on roads east. Believe it or not, he somehow made a profit on all this.¡±

    ¡°How is this even sustainable? Wouldn¡¯t this whole scheme have collapsed the year after?

    ¡°Well, merchants are shrewd. Many - even if they weren¡¯t able to make sense of the accursed conditions - could at least tell that it wasn¡¯t worth moving west. Thus, the glut propagates east and over the border.¡±

    ¡°B-but even then-¡±

    ¡°It would be more profitable to his demesne to simply have this sold at the going rate, right. The pregnant words there, my prince, is ¡®his demesne.¡¯ Taxes are high in the March of Re-Blumrushur; but they are not that high. Further, some of that tax income ends up in the hands of mayors, knights, other gentry, and magistrates. Blumrush doesn¡¯t need to split a bribe from Jircniv. Whatever he puts in, he can get out. The rest of the operation is lean: brokers are paid on a commission basis; he doesn¡¯t hire a transit concern, he ships to warehouses in E-Rantel during the summertime using levy; enough new merchants enter the trade each new year thinking they¡¯ve spotted an opportunity to ship west that he makes a consistent profit taking them for all they¡¯re worth; and so forth.¡±

    ¡°How do you even know this?¡±

    ¡°Teething problems with his operation. My March is the demesne between him and the Duchy. Margins on all this are thin, taxes will push him into unprofitability; that along with his attempt to avoid the notice of the warehousing and shipping guilds in E-Libera means he must route around highways. His shipments have to pass in the shadow of the Azerlisian range, and in his first two years of doing this, some of his carts came just a little too close to the foothills and were assaulted by frost giants. The trouble in the steel market never reached me, but the increase in requests made to the Adventurers Guild did. It took me four years to piece it all together.¡±

    ¡°Godsdamnit.¡±

    ¡°I know. I can¡¯t bear it either.¡±

    ¡°Godsdamnit!¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°How could he-¡±

    A knock cut them off. Given that they had dismissed the maids, and that there was no childish giggling filtering through the door, this could only be one person.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    Both the Prince and the Marquis quickly collected themselves to greet the entrant.

    ¡°Marchioness, how good of you to join us.¡±

    ¡°Please, call me Gerena.¡±

    ¡°Darling.¡±

    ¡°You two sure are having a calm and collected discussion.¡±

    His wife¡¯s sarcasm was entirely unwelcome, insulting the moment in a wholly irreparable way for Raeven. He snapped.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to chastise me!¡±

    He immediately regretted this - for Gerena did not know the content of his talk with the prince - but before he could apologize, she issued a comeback.

    ¡°You¡¯ll wake up Reese.¡±

    Cheap blow.

    ¡°That¡¯s- that¡¯s not fair. We weren¡¯t making that much noise.¡±

    ¡°Elias, is that all it takes to make you squirm?¡±

    ¡°Not typically, your Highness. And besides, he¡¯s on the other end of the manor. So there¡¯s no cause to reprimand me, much less the second prince!¡±

    ¡°No offense to his highness, but neither of you are acting your station.¡±

    ¡°There is truth in that. Elias, you chose a good woman to marry.¡±

    And just like that, he¡¯s back to joking. There¡¯s something to be said for the Ryle resilience.

    ¡°A fact I will never stop lamenting. Darling, what is it?¡±

    ¡°A messenger from Valencia.¡±

    At this, the two men froze. This was entirely out of order; Raeven was completely unable to imagine a good reason for a message. It was likely a reprimand and a recall from the King to his son, a chastisement and castigation to him, or a summons to both about the somber emergence of some new crisis - events which Raeven was growing tired of. Gerena raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°What? Whom?¡±

    ¡°You two look like boys caught snatching candy out of the guest¡¯s serving bowl.¡±

    ¡°And by every right are we boys! Isn¡¯t that right, my Prince?¡±

    ¡°For the sake of my health, I choose to stand out of marital squabbles.¡±

    ¡°Ah, will you take the same attitude to court politics?¡±

    ¡°Ouch! I see this alliance of ours is already in jeopardy.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, so fickle are the hearts of men. Honey, who is here?¡±

    ¡°The Princess¡¯s toy.¡±

    Huh?

    Raeven blanked. This was entirely offbeat.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That blond pauper knight of hers. You know the one. Climb¡­ Climb something.¡±

    ¡°He has no family name.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Isn¡¯t he a member of the Royal Guard? I didn¡¯t know no-bloods could even enter the palace, and that armor of his¡­ How strange. Anyway, he delivered a summons from her highness.¡±

    ¡°Do you know on what grounds?¡±

    ¡°That was the strangest part. He spoke specifically about conducting a raid on her orders.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°My reaction exactly. Apparently, she had him assault a brothel that dealt in slaves, and aparently captured a man of some import. Ampetif Doll of Eight Fingers.¡±

    Ampetif¡­ Cocco Doll? He was in with Eight Fingers?

    Raeven swallowed. One of the critical duties of the high nobility was maintaining contacts with merchants. Though administrators, servants, and assistants could handle most meetings in his stead, he had still made an effort to learn the names and business of the twenty most significant traders in his demesne in terms of tax income. Cocco Doll had made that list just barely two years ago, running a transit and shipping concern that stretched from the duchy of E-Rantel all the way to E-Libera. Raeven had met him on several occasions, each time a petition on his part to improve road quality. Things clicked together instantly. Cocco Doll, after the ban on slavery, had opened the opperation as a front to traffic slaves from Baharuth and Slane. He had paid taxes and fees to avoid inspections, kept a legitimate business transporting travelers and valuable goods as cover, and issued grievances in the same manner any other merchant would. Raeven realized he was badly exposed.

    ¡°I-I see.¡±

    ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m somewhat impressed. I always thought her efforts against slavery started and ended with charity. Not actual kinetics. It feels like she¡¯s setting standards for womanhood. In any case, what should I tell him?¡±

    I¡¯m in no position to refuse. Shit.

    ¡°Tell him yes.¡±

    ¡°I-I¡¯ll come as well.¡±

    ¡°My Prince?¡±

    ¡°I insist.¡±

    This action was equally surprising, Raeven attempting and failing to divine Zanac¡¯s reasoning. He shelved the thought for now, instead deciding on his immediate response to his wife.

    ¡°Alright. Darling, inform Climb we¡¯ll be coming now; clear my schedule for the next few hours¡­ hm, maybe for the full day.¡±

    ¡°Including the one with Benra?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Apologize in my stead, and explain that I received a royal summons. It¡¯s a valid enough excuse. We¡¯ll finish our drinks and depart.¡±

    His wife remained silent, waiting.

    ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Gerena nodded, and left the room. Raeven took another sip of his drink, but Zanac downed his glass in a single stroke. This showing of vulnerability piqued Raeven, and he couldn¡¯t help but prod.

    ¡°Why do you wish to come?¡±

    ¡°No one should have to face her alone.¡±

    I¡­ what? How can he even say something like this.

    Already strained by the previous discussion and his wife¡¯s interruption, this comment on the part of the Prince sent Raeven over the edge.

    ¡°My Prince, there¡¯s a point here I¡¯ve never understood.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Your relationship with your sister.¡±

    ¡°What about her?¡±

    The Prince¡¯s tone was icy, exasperating Raeven further.

    ¡°What about it has degenerated so deeply to inspire you to speak like that? I know you mentioned yesterday that you thought she was faking the effort behind her policies, but to be honest, I was just humoring you on that point¡­ You see, even now, you freeze.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t take kindly to being jerked around by-¡±

    ¡°And there, offense. You see, I don¡¯t understand it. What has she said to you? What has she done to inspire such ridicule? Even your brother hates her, and I haven¡¯t the faintest clue why.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it matters, she-¡±

    ¡°It absolutely does! Say what you will about her faculties, her word carries significant weight with those of lower stations. You can¡¯t simply ignore that.¡±

    Zanac scoffed.

    ¡°Raeven, there are many things in this world that I do not know, some things I cannot know, and even fewer things that I dare not know. What goes on behind that face of hers is one of them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re scared of her?¡±

    Zanac stayed silent, a silent assent to Raeven¡¯s question. It was a half-sensical answer, in that Zanac¡¯s reactions certainly aligned with fearful behavior, while giving no hint of the actual cause of his emotions. It was frustrating, and despite himself, he wished to lash the prince for his words. Raeven talked himself down from issuing a retaliatory response, and as he calmed down, remembered an odd moment from years prior.

    She always did have the most odd manner of speaking, didn¡¯t she? She would break things into distinct yet inscrutable blocks, weirding the weirdest things at the weirdest times. What happened to that? Didn¡¯t she just¡­ stop?

    Raeven lifted his gaze, tracing the top seam of the drapes with his eyes.

    We had a council that rainy summer evening, the king and the great five- no, four, neither Pespea nor Lytton had achieved that moniker by then. Actually, it was the first strategy meeting on the topic of El-Nix. That was the last time I saw her like that; I recall her mentioning something about Jircniv¡¯s ¡®coming decisions,¡¯ or was it ¡®coming excisions?¡¯ Ah, if only I could remember the details. I left for E-Libera that night, and didn¡¯t see her for another three months, not until the fall equinox. By then, all those qualities in her were gone. She was a copy of Lulara¡­ How did I forget about this? It¡¯s as if-

    Zanac suddenly spoke, interrupting Raeven¡¯s thoughts.

    ¡°People have gotten this impression of my father from the behavior of my brother, her, and - to be honest - myself as well, that he¡¯s an oversoft man in his personal life. And, well, it''s true. He was a soft hand, particularly after my mother passed. Hm¡­ A-anyway, for some of his inner circle,  Jelka, Macnamara, Brendel, he allowed them certain excesses with us, perhaps not befitting regal behavior.¡±

    He¡¯s speaking with candor. I can¡¯t let this go to waste.

    ¡°Those being?¡±

    ¡°Play. Games. Occasionally sport. All of it together in a sort of intimate way, the sort of thing he kept out of the view of the maids. I remember one time Jelka threw my brother and I genuine steel, made us promise not to injure ourselves, and taught us both to spar. Of course, we never landed a blow on him and he was using a practice stick, but the fun of it¡­ H-have you ever played any of the games of the Gods?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Bridge, once or twice. Never was to my liking, I went back to Joust right after.¡±

    ¡°There are nine, my favorite of which as a child - hm, I suppose now, too - was always ¡®Kingdom.¡¯¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the one on the nineteen by nineteen grid, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of ¡®Marcher.¡¯ I was never witty enough for that, but Kingdom always served to capture my attention. Something about it always served to invoke me. Sending a knight or a tower careening through enemy lines, the clerics flying along the diagonals, throwing away the champion to earn a victory, even though it was just carved pieces on a board, I- I could always imagine it. These grand battles to decide the fate of entire nations. Do you understand what I mean?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Joust I just see the numbers - or, for games like that, just the pieces. How much I¡¯ve put down, how much my partner has and so on.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    Zanac seemed disappointed, and Raeven couldn''t help but feel a pang of guilt; he had unintentionally nullified the product of a child¡¯s imagination, and that stung but a little.

    Ah, I messed up. Something conciliatory?

    ¡°Besides¡­ isn¡¯t ¡®Kingdom¡¯ supposed to be about politics instead?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, the King can only move slowly because he¡¯s restricted by his station, the clerics can flit behind doors by way of their status as men of the Gods, knights can bypass particular court procedure by way of their particularity and so on.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought of it like that. The explanation I always came up with as a kid for why clerics could only move diagonally was that their flying carpets were broken¡­ Anyway, it was Sir Brendel who introduced it to me. I remember one day he came in during his rounds, and when I asked him what he had brought for me, he pulled a folding wooden board out of his satchel, the thing flopping open immediately, and said he had a gift. He explained the pieces to me, played two games with me, then left me with the set.¡±

    ¡°You caught the bug, I¡¯m assuming?¡±

    ¡°I did. I made a right circuit of the palace; I visited Sir Brendel a few more times, Sergeant Yinerval of what Stronoff would take and turn into the Warrior Band, Mister Ekhan who, uh, he was sort of the defacto leader-¡±

    ¡°Of the Palace Professional Guard, right. I remember him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, so him. Gods, everyone I¡¯ve listed off is dead, aren¡¯t they? This isn¡¯t supposed to happen to a man until he¡¯s older.¡±

    ¡°Wisdom beyond one¡¯s years is a curse more often than not.¡±

    ¡°To that I agree. No, uh¡­ I stayed up late once and played the nightwatch, I went to the library and played a series with Yelta there - he even gave me a book of opening tactics; I played Urovana once; Pespea, right after he engaged my sister. I almost got to have a match with a delegation from Baharuth back before the wars started, but my father vetoed that. I played once or twice with him though.¡±

    ¡°Did you win?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but, he learned the game to play with me.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Amazing.¡±

    Well, I''ve never felt so totally inadequate as a father. To think he has the burden of Kingcraft and do what I can barely give lil'' Rii.

    "But, well, it was only once or twice. There was never a time- er, rather, there was never enough time. The games I liked always dragged out for hours, but obviously the duties of adults prevented that, so I turned to my siblings. Barbro was interested at first, but he never quite understood it. Vena was mostly gone by this time, and Lulara was completely disinterested anyway. So¡­ so in a moment of desperation, I asked Renner.¡±

    ¡°Turning to a four year old for help with a strategy game? Isn¡¯t that a little backwards?¡±

    ¡°It- it wasn¡¯t like that. I knew by then that she wasn¡¯t¡­ that she wasn¡¯t like others. She was just different, especially next to Lulara. She wasn¡¯t very interested until I mentioned it didn¡¯t use dice.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°She called it ¡®rigid,¡¯ whatever that means.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have a clue.¡±

    ¡°Neither did I. I taught her the rules, what each piece did, how to win, and we were off. I¡¯ve never been one to believe in giving others easy victories the first time through, and so I played just as I would against an experienced opponent.¡±

    ¡°A little mean, no?¡±

    ¡°I- I suppose. I won the first game, but it was much more hardfought than I intended. Actually, I had forgotten to mention to her that you could capture a soldier that double-moved by moving to the space behind it, and that was what allowed me to crack her line. She was annoyed, but surrendered when it happened. We reset, played again. It was a long game, it took us over an hour. In the end, she eked out a victory, a drawn out dance of kings and knights at the end.

    The third game I lost, as with the fourth, fifth, and sixth. Each was about an hour, which honestly was mostly me. She would make her moves immediately after I did, but she let me take as much time as I needed for mine. The seventh game was¡­ was when we stopped. We were in the middle of the game, everything mustered out in the center of the board, and I¡­ I made a move that sent her over the edge.¡±

    ¡°Some winning blow?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t remember specifically, but it was something completely innocuous. Shifting a piece around in the back. I remember as clear as crystal her grabbing and throwing the board, screeching at the top of her lungs. I had never seen her so mad before, so filled with rage. The veins in her head were literally visible.¡±

    ¡°What- what was the cause?¡±

    ¡°She yelled at me. Called me witless. Said I kept making the same errors again and again. She leapt out of her chair and toppled it, pacing around my room raving for a minute straight, before marching into the corner and collapsing in it. She said things then; things which, at the time, only scared me because she had shouted them. Now- now I don¡¯t know what to think of her words.¡±

    A bead of sweat fell into Raeven¡¯s left eye, and he batted his eyelashes, trying to clear it away. This didn¡¯t work, and soon more fell from his brow into his eyes. He was forced to wipe his face with his hands, wetting them both in uncertain fashion. Returning his gaze to Zanac, he bade him to answer one last question.

    ¡°What were they?¡±

    ¡°¡®I hate you. I hate all of you. I wish to die.¡¯¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (20)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    At some point, without Renner noticing, time had broken into a flat-out sprint and carried her from one end of the war to the other.

    Ninety-three days. How much have I done in ninety-three days?

    It was a black question, the sort of topic she reserved for nights spent wide awake, not mid-mornings, and never minutes before a tribulation. To it, she could offer up material evidence: count of enemies incapacitated, killed, or captured, the total losses in gold the Blue Roses had inflicted, the likely strategic consequence of their disruption to their opponents¡¯ organizational cohesion - but none seemed meaningful. Her actions would only have weight if she could convince Raeven that they did, and though she had felt so sure before of the method¡¯s efficacy, her confidence grew frailer every minute. Her self-assurances did little, and despite an hour spent silently reciting her words, drilling interactions and conversations, she felt no safer for the effort. She was stuck waiting in her room, the rest of the Blue Roses in some way scattered about the rest.

    Lo, Raeven refuses. Recourse? Less than a tenth of my capital at the outset, a deeply overwrought combat force, and exposure that would guarantee retaliation or assassination within a week. I ran out of ground, and am now headlong over the edge.

    Renner moved to refill her cup, and upon grasping her teapot, realized that its magics had already expired; given that it would no longer keep heat, she resolved herself to finish it quickly. In a quick motion, she raised her serving back to the brim.

    What hospitalities should I have arranged? Some food¡­ cake perhaps? Too little time, I¡¯ll need to resort to pastries. Meats, cheeses, candies, glazes, I should have studied his tastes more deeply. This isn''t a meaningful oversight, is it? Likely not. Ah, actually, it may be more prudent to offer something against his taste, enhance an image of a Golden Princess desperate to help her people, little matters like food slipping through the cracks. Offer him marriage, and impress upon him the morality of my actions. An act for the benefit of all citizens. Something the rest of the nobility can look up at him for- Wait, problem. Keveleos. Per the worst outcome, Lakyus and her fellows encounter, arrest, and force him to speak. He must be slain when seen.

    ¡°Lakyus, a last point. If you encounter-¡±

    A knock.

    Curses. I¡¯ll discuss this later. So it goes.

    The door handle clicked as it turned, Climb''s white greave emerging from the other side as he opened it. He popped ''round, standing out of the way to reveal a pallid Marquis alongside an impish second prince. Renner felt as if the room imploded.

    Him? Him too? Here already? This is completely out of order.

    The Marquis was not yet supposed to be here. For a nobleman, each minute spent in Re-Estize -  away from one¡¯s demesne - was a precious expenditure. Often, schedules would be full up with matters only resolvable in the city, be it guild meetings, political maneuvering, or base mercantilism. Though - by the privilege afforded by august subordinates - the Great Six could make the weeks-long journey with frequency, this did not free them from the endlessly churning lives of high nobility. A deferent response from Raeven would have him returning Climb with an offer in hand for lunch. Coming along immediately was an act of outright submission.

    I¡¯ve read things wrong. I knew they''d moved their partnership out into the sunlight, but for the both of them to move in twain to my summons? I''ll need to revise. A greeting. Show surprise.

    Renner and Lakyus sprung from their chairs in tandem, the rest of their comrades a moment later.

    ¡°Igana!¡±

    ¡°Oy. If it isn¡¯t my half sister. You look well enough.¡±

    Chardelon, hold fast. ¡®Half-sister¡¯? He, too, is attempting to appear more calm than he actually is. Is he here at Raeven''s request or by his own will? Considering how he''s marked me, the Marquis wouldn''t ask this of him. That¡­ Zanac came of his own volition. This is extreme.

    Renner silently thanked her performance for holding together. She was deeply off course.

    ¡°Oh, and if it isn¡¯t an Heiress Alvein and the renowned Blue Rose. What wonderful company. To think we¡¯d run into half a dozen adamantite adventurers here.¡±

    I missed a detail. They returned too quickly for Zanac to have been informed separately and then retrieved. Curse the gods! This was all coincidence? How could I have known he was going to sneak off and play politics with Elias on this specific day, at this specific time?

    ¡°Your Highness, Your Lordship.¡±

    Lakyus curtsied to them both. Zanac waved off any further formality from her in response, in contrast to Raeven, who, for his part, was bowing to Renner.

    ¡°I heard your message to the Marquis, and it seemed just too intriguing to avoid attending myself.¡±

    He was there to hear Climb''s opening, and likely heard the rest in the journey here. Assumptions? Both have the same information but separate perspectives; they''ll leverage off each other in conversation. Everything I¡¯ve practiced is useless. Revision would be a mistake. Abandon everything and improvise.

    ¡°I¡¯ve come as per your Highness¡¯s summons.¡±

    Standard opening. Play to court hierarchy.

    ¡°Mm. Indeed, thank you for coming all this way, Marquis. Please, raise your head.¡±

    Raeven raised himself from his bow, Zanac upturning his head slightly as he cast his gaze to her.

    ¡°Then, may I trouble you to dismiss the others to an adjacent room?¡±

    ¡®No¡¯? Impossible; they¡¯re well ahead of me, and may simply let their jaws go slack as they refuse to speak. I won¡¯t be able to parry with tales of an Aindra¡¯s valiance. Also, shame I must send Climb away. Accept.

    ¡°Understood, Zanac. Lakyus, Climb, apologies, but would you and your band please retire across the hall?¡±

    ¡°Done.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s clipped response signaled her team, and they filed out in sequence; Climb and Lakyus bowed to Raeven and Zanac, something that Gagaran then awkwardly mimicked. The twins were either entirely aloof or uncaring, ignoring etiquette without comment; Evileye was much the same, though she made the subtlest of flicks with her dexter hand. The space shrunk, and Renner felt another mind brush up against hers.

    ¡°Renner, do you want me to scry?¡±

    And hold me accountable to two groups without advantage? Refuse.

    ¡°I must decline. As much as I desire your aegis, clandestine conversation between members of my house and another is not something I can let slip. Further, you may move to retrieve Gazef now. Inform me when he arrives.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    The link snapped shut along with the door, and Renner was left alone with the two men she had selected for her plot three months prior.

    There¡¯s a hidden boon here. Absent Lakyus, I may politick in more vicious fashion. Hm, and pursue the marriage bargain with ease.

    ¡°Please, sit.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    The two drew down into their seats, Renner setting down a saucer and cup for Raeven, before pouring what tea she could. With that settled, she topped off her own cup, and returned to her chair.

    ¡°I am honored that Your Highness would personally pour a cup of tea for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m ashamed to say it may have chilled. I must ask you to forgive the mistake.¡±

    ¡°No matter.¡±

    ¡°Oy oy oy, where¡¯s mine?¡±

    Brother-dearest, need you make this so difficult?

    ¡°Eh? Apologies, I believed tea wasn¡¯t to your taste. Am I in error?¡±

    ¡°Mm, true, I¡¯m not really a fan of stained water. Still, I feel like I¡¯m missing something if I don¡¯t have anything to whet myself with.¡±

    I¡¯m uninterested in your games, not to mention the time needed to satiate them. Effect a consequence for his ¡®nags.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯ll have the maid fetch something then. Will fruit juice do?¡±

    Renner made a preemptive reach for her handbell, her inner face smiling as Zanac scrambled to reverse his words.

    ¡°Tea will be fine. There¡¯s no need to let word of this conversation slip out.¡±

    ¡°In fairness, if we resolve this matter today - whatever it may be - there¡¯s no reason to believe it¡¯ll make it back to their houses.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to believe it won¡¯t. Women speak, after all. And, to be particular, the maids in this palace of ours are downright frightening in how quickly they spread gossip.¡±

    He¡¯s referencing a specific piece of information. My conversation with Nunia last night? She wouldn¡¯t have let that slip, would she? Prod him.

    ¡°Mm. Keeping our ear to the ground for maids¡¯ talk, are we?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    That tone of voice is honest confusion, not smug contrition. Perhaps he simply heard about the movements of the Blue Rose on the way in. Retract the topic.

    ¡°Ah, nothing that matters.¡±

    Renner once again repeated her actions for Zanac, using the silence to assemble a basic strategy for the conversation to come.

    I must drive this conversation to two subjects. One, tonight¡¯s violence. Offer fame in the House of Lords, offer freedom from the syndicate; take his men, take his might. Two, tomorrow¡¯s matrimony. Offer Vaiself blood, offer my lifelong service; take the march, take my pet. Open with the former to intertwine us, and then shift into the latter. ¡°Marquis, I must request your assistance for the coming dusk,¡± ¡°To what end does your Highness desire the aid of your servant,¡± ¡°I require you¡±- no, Zanac would interfere. By the will of the Four, why must he be here?!

    She stifled more of her frustration, increasingly agitated by Zanac¡¯s hypothetical intervention. Several more half-strung interactions came to mind, each time her brother intercepting her thrusts and cracking her ripostes. The typical levers she would think to use on a man like Raeven - the charitable words of the Golden Princess, made all the more tragic by her impotence - simply would not hold in the presence of the second prince. His loathing was an insurmountable barrier, and any emotional appeal she could issue was likely to be questioned and disassembled.

    Chardelon, you¡¯re undoing. Frustration is of no use here. Be cold. Be unrelenting¡­ So, then what? A softer persona will not work here; brother-dearest will call me a pit dweller and that¡¯d be it for the Golden Princess¡¯s little game. I need a new way of approaching this.

    Finishing the pour, she was finally able to rest, setting down both her teapot and herself. The three took sips, Zanac¡¯s face scrunching at the taste.

    ¡°Ack, this is a bit bitter.¡±

    Keveleos as an example here. He only broke and gave in when I spoke of things beyond my rightful knowledge. An open cut. Was I not anxious when Zanac marked me an unearthly thing? That works for others, no? Further, his fear was not that of the witless, but of those with half. Those descriptors certainly apply to my brother and Raeven, this ought to ply them.

    ¡°Still, your Highness, what matter could require discussion so early in the morning? Not to discount my presence, of course, your servant will rush to your side at any time; you have but to give the word.¡±

    The crux. Do as I did for the count. Choose aggression.

    ¡°And I appreciate that. Then, you¡¯ll forgive me for doing away with the rest of the pleasantries and skipping to the point. Marquis, I wish to borrow your insight.¡±

    ¡°My insight? Since it is Your Highness that asks¡­ your servant fears he will not be able to live up to your expectations.¡±

    An admittal of my wit? A strange failure on his part. Better, he sounds unsure. Stir unease, then escalate.

    ¡°I have no doubt; you¡¯ll do fine. After all, I doubt anyone is your equal in affairs of the court, Elias.¡±

    ¡°And what would you have your servant tell you?¡±

    ¡°I wish to lodge a request. That if you - the single man who corales, coordinates, and commands the Royal Faction - could activate and mobilize its forces for combat after dusk tonight.¡±

    Expressions akin to shock tinged with hesitation came over the faces of both men, one Renner had finally learned to mark as fear. The usually immovable Raeven seemed to break, his lips parting without a word. Zanac adjusted himself in his seat, pulling back into it with back straight.

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    Escalate again.

    ¡°Hesitancy? A shame, I would have asked your three- scratch that, two contemporaries, Marquis, but¡­ well, the less that can be said about Blumrush¡¯s fidelity to King and Country the better. How often does a man sell the skimmings of his nation to the enemy, doubly so for one like El-Nix? It comes as a matter of course that-¡±

    ¡°Wh-what did you say?!¡±

    ¡°A moment please, Your Highness!¡±

    Panic, already? Continue pushing until he rallies.

    ¡°Marquis Blumrush!?¡±

    ¡°Why shock? Didn¡¯t you know? After all, you certainly made moves to insulate him from things further west. Am I wrong?¡±

    ¡°You¡­¡±

    Raeven lurched in a way Renner couldn¡¯t help but find amusing.

    ¡°How did you find out what-¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s simply a matter of attentive listening; that, and, it¡¯s always helpful to make a habit of speaking with the maids.¡±

    ¡°...Monster.¡±

    That word again. I¡¯m starting to enjoy it, if only for its value. Whenever one proclaims me as such, I then tend to force whatever I want from them. It wouldn¡¯t be a half-bad echo, either. I can see it propagating throughout the nobility, so wholly unbelievable. Who would believe the Golden Princess, as so proclaimed by both her own brother and the head of the most powerful free-standing house, a monster.

    Raeven, so strained by the last exchange, paused and rallied. Closing his eyes, he coughed into his fist, sorting himself quickly. Zanac seemed completely scattered, his regular reaction to stressful matters of drinking whatever was nearest served him wrong, and he brought his cup back to his lips to down only to burn himself in the process. While her brother hacked, the Marquis finally seemed back in order, speaking his next words with intention and a deference he had not displayed before.

    ¡°Your servant¡­ Your servant believes he better understands this conversation now. Apologies for before. Then, let me drop all pretense. My Prince, do you have any objections?¡±

    Zanac hastily shook his head.

    ¡°However-¡±

    Raeven paused to press the back of his hand to his mouth and swallow.

    ¡°Before that¡­ before that, your servant wishes to address the real Princess Renner. Is that acceptable?¡±

    Eh?

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Raeven lagged for a moment, seeming to hesitate with his next words.

    ¡°A girl whose words taxed the understanding of others. When¡­ when your servant first saw this girl, he found her completely incomprehensible. She was a person who for a time- no, for a fleeting moment, seemed overwhelmingly¡­ dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Dangerous?¡±

    Again, I find myself being called a beast of yore. Do I have claws? Perhaps a tail that has eluded me all this time? What fearsome thing must I look like to beggar such description? I suppose I never learned the right lessons from my encounter with Keveleos. With this, I feel near certain in my inhumanity.

    ¡°Yes. Your servant had merely seized upon a hint of it, and when he opened his hands and saw nothing, dismissed it as a baseless fear. However, for that window in time, your servant was struck by one specific thought: ¡®those eyes have nothing behind them but contempt.¡¯¡±

    He¡¯s asking me to drop my act.

    With this, Renner was able to grasp the entire morning thus far.

    He suspects well enough that I am not my surface. Zanac does too. They both came with haste because of that fact. They are speaking to me now for that reason, not simply Climb¡¯s actions. They know what¡¯s under my skin. This discussion was meant to drive me out.

    ¡°That said, when your servant next saw that girl, she had the aura of a child about her, and¡­ well, your servant believed that he had been mistaken ever since. Therefore, your Highness, I - in the most modest of terms - merely wish to speak to you.¡±

    Her heart¡¯s pace exploded, her breath catching as her composure seized. She stilled her face by instinct, instantly recognizing it as a lethal error.

    Jink. I must- No, I¡¯ve already frozen, any attempt to shrug this off will ring false. Anger? Righteous frustration at the interruption of my cause. ¡°For all my goodwill, that¡¯s what you¡¯re accusing me of¡± No, it would be too disjoint with my previous words. Confusion has the same problem as deflection, my guise has already been torn. A dead-eyed stare? Cold burning rage beneath the surface? Same issue again. It would be wholly unbelievable. What about finding the whole matter humorous? Laughing and belittling him in the process. If he¡¯s so convinced, he¡¯ll end the conversation on the spot, offended beyond measure.

    Whole seconds had passed since Raeven¡¯s words, her mind dashing flat-out, aping for a solution. She had squandered too much time to issue a counter, and the Marquis¡¯s thrust had struck home. She felt the need to scream.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Do I run? How? Flight would take me nowhere. I would shatter everything built thus far. Curse the Gods! Curse them, curse them, curse them! May I scald them with oil, sizzle their skin ¡®till it sloughs off and their forms sag. May they cry in agony, wailing for mercy with all the forces of the Godhead until their throats, too, melt. May they never again dare raise an anguished eye against me. Damn them! There¡¯s only one option. Complete ruin. Chardelon, release yourself.

    Against every instinct of her existence, she let her act drop. Releasing her eyebrows and eyelids, her eyes narrowed and gained definition. She let her jaw recede, her chin sinking into her face. For her mouth, she let her purse go slack, letting the far corners of her mouth draw farther apart. This combination of motions caused the crest of her cheeks to retreat. As one final surrender, she let a nervous smile spread across her face, expressing herself exactly as she would when she was alone. The transformation in Raeven was immediate.

    ¡°Ah, as I thought, you''re- you¡¯re actually¡­ Princess, your eyes- your¡­it feels as if no time has passed at all. Have you hid your loathing - so total for the world - ever since?¡±

    My voice? No reason to hide it, I suppose.

    ¡°Loathing?-¡±

    Ah, it sounds odd. It seems as if I¡¯ve fooled even myself with my timbre. With my visage, I could always capture glimpses of it in the mirror, but one never does that with their voice. No matter. Why does Raeven think I hate all fashioned things; isn¡¯t that so obviously false? I may simply tell him that. The sword above my head has fallen and missed.

    With but a word spoken, Renner felt herself given unto a complete renewal. It was a relief: the absence of a danger that had been, until now, ever present. There was no longer threat of exposure, for such a thing had already come to pass. Renner was past the brink, and in her fall, felt free.

    ¡°-Only of a kind, Marquis Raeven. Things never became ¡®totally¡¯ anathematic. I, after all, have found a source of some satisfaction.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, are you referring to your soldier?"

    ¡°Yes, without a doubt. I suppose you have him to thank for me.¡±

    The trills! Oh, how foreign they sound!

    ¡°Oh. To think that you would find him so completing. I thought of him as nothing but a- a child of sorts; a pauper whom you¡­ What strictly is he to you, Your Highness?"

    ¡°My Climb?¡±

    Renner paused, cocking her head. It was a question she had never thought to answer, for she had never needed to ask. Climb was an end all to himself.

    Climb is my reason to wake. Climb is my reason to stir myself from bed. Climb is my reason to ready myself. Climb is why, every day, I bear the world. He is the reason I last through every afternoon, even those when I must long for him. He is the shape of my mirth, every moment of good that I have ripped from my penance. He is my suffering, the great task that I exist to complete. I exist to devour him; to watch, memorize, and consume him. Climb is my reason to eat. Climb is my reason to breathe. Climb is all things at once.

    ¡°Marquis, you have asked me something beyond my capacity to answer; description evades me, and thus I have the need to resort to rote terms and base fantasy. If I could join with him, fetter him - collar, leash, and all - and keep him as one would a puppy-dog¡­ better yet, bring him to heel and keep him there, either by lead or¡­ by chaining him to the spot; yes, perhaps I would prefer that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s you? I¡­¡±

    What¡¯s that look on his face, no, the both of them? Wouldn¡¯t me revealing my desires as something so minor put them at ease? There¡¯s no grand conspiracy here to split the kingdom, just a woman describing her beloved.

    Renner sagged. For some reason she couldn¡¯t place, her words seemed to have inspired greater fear in both Zanac and Raeven.

    ¡°I see. Your true nature. Gods, how do I say this¡­ when you were young, I could tell something was disjoint. I had the constant sense that I had forgotten something around you; something incorrect that I couldn¡¯t place. This¡­ It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s revelatory! You are aberrant, you¡¯re aberrant!¡±

    ¡°Aberrant? Why such strong terms, Zanac? Am I so ¡®abnormal¡¯ on this point?¡±

    ¡°I- Your Highness, if that¡¯s what you so desire. I¡¯m sure no one would object- er¡­ uh¡­ I¡¯m clueless on this¡­ no, there¡¯s no way, unless you had some leverage far beyond your station now.¡±

    I haven¡¯t a clue what Zanac is on about, and Elias seems equally skeptical, but at least his assessment is correct.

    ¡°My thoughts exactly. It¡¯s wholly impossible in a setting such as Valencia, with a title such as Third Princess of House Vaiself. And in any case, it voids the purpose, no? I simply wish for him in his doggish existence to look up at me from the ground, and that ground can never be here.¡±

    ¡°¡®Doggish existence,¡¯ you speak of him as an animal¡­ does that mean Your Highness that you do not love him?¡±

    Renner''s chest flared with rage. It was indescribable

    What?! By what- How dare he. How dare he! Scrap the Gods, I¡¯ll grind you into a paste for such words!

    ¡°Of course I do. His¡­ his eyes. The way he looks at me, and how he clings to me. It¡¯s precious.¡±

    ¡°Fuck me, I¡¯m completely lost. That¡¯s not love, Chardelon.¡±

    I¡¯ll strike you dead for those words, brother-dearest. What about my care for Climb is not love!?

    ¡°And are you the purveyor of such things?¡±

    ¡°¡­I apologize sincerely, Your Highness, but I have difficulty following you.¡±

    Did I not describe in proper fashion what I desire from him? I desire a puppy-dog, a darling boy to lead round, to play with, to hold, cuddle, and keep warm in the eve.

    ¡°Follow me you need not. Understanding is not required. All you need to know is that I love him and that I cherish him.¡±

    ¡°Not to disparage a proclivity-¡±

    Don¡¯t you dare use qualifying words to frame such a deep insult! Isn¡¯t that the dream of any person?

    ¡°It is not a proclivity! It is simply love.¡±

    Perhaps I am cleaved to him a little more by circumstance, but that¡¯s merely a matter of scale, not content. Is this an ill of menfolk? An inability to grasp a woman¡¯s love? Or¡­ perhaps the error is with me. Another element of my monstrosity, as it were. If what I feel for him is not the love of mankind, but something other, then I have no desire to mimic that kin and their lesser feelings.

    ¡°I make no further claim to the contrary¡­ love it is then¡­ right. Although under your current condition, a union between Your Highness and¡­ Mister Climb is a little-¡±

    ¡°Impossible. Absolutely impossible. Word gets out of your - let¡¯s call it - ¡®love¡¯ of Climb, you¡¯d be engaged by fall and married by the spring. And this is with father! If it was¡­ our older brother, I¡¯m sure you could count on a matrimony with any of the many wonderful members of the Noble Faction, bonds in which you would have nothing.¡±

    She gave a slight sigh, the shift in subject tearing her from her spiral.

    Right. The topic at hand. The three of us linked our arms and trod right off the path and into a pit. Ah, how could I not with such vicious cruelty on the part of my opposites? A matter, but one I don¡¯t care to resolve. If they don¡¯t understand my affection for him, fine. I ought to show a little gratitude; speaking any of the previous alongside Lakyus would¡¯ve been disastrous. This is much more convenient in a way, I may simply speak without pretense.

    ¡°Indeed. If he took the throne, my marriage would be the first point of courtly order. Obviously, the matter has already been discussed. I¡¯m sure I¡¯m nothing but a possession to whomever he¡¯s promised me to, and I¡¯ve seen lecherous eyes on a few.¡±

    ¡°Likely a three way pact. Your servant is aware that one Margrave Larousse is willing to flip factions with an inducement.¡±

    Larousse, along with Dumont. Ah, this method of speaking has many benefits. There¡¯s a blanket assumption of truth on their part. I can speak the most egregious of lies, and they¡¯ll believe it because I¡¯m doing so with an unpracticed face. Omit greater truths then, test what they know. They won¡¯t dare lie.

    ¡°Certainly. Besides, a woman cannot marry her dog, no? Climb is a no-blood. Imagine, if you will, some grand elevation to a name and title. Picture, ¡®Baron,¡¯ and then picture, ¡®Baroness Vaiself.¡¯ Mm, ¡®Countess,¡¯ ¡®Marchioness?¡¯ It¡¯s comic. No, brother¡¯s words are right. Impossible.¡±

    ¡°I concur. Given the state of things as it is, such dreams are unreachable.¡±

    ¡°Fine, then. This conversation was initially meant to be a negotiation, so why not a deal? If I gain the throne, I will match you - in whatever manner you desire - to your Climb.¡±

    Oh! He stumbled upon the point. Wonderful!

    ¡°I accept.¡±

    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t even get to share my terms! Aren¡¯t you being a little hasty?¡±

    ¡°To what end would I refuse? Am I somehow enigmatic again already? What terms could you levy that I could buck? I¡¯m positively boggled. As would an evoker say, it¡¯s surefire. When you entered lockstep with the Marquis, I decided then and there. Ah, brother, your promotion to the throne is a goal of mine.¡±

    ¡°You already anticipated this? Of a stripe, I mean. I¡­ I¡¯m speechless.¡±

    Zanac smiled bitterly, slightly tilting his head as he did so.

    And there, my goal in the open. So¡­ the topics of Climb and my fervor for Zanac struck, onto the matter of Reese.

    ¡°Also, Igana- er¡­ no, Marquis?¡±

    ¡°What does Your Highness request?¡±

    ¡°Marquis, it¡¯s my understanding you are the father to a wonderful little boy, no?¡±

    ¡°I- I am. My little- my child turned five this year. Is something about him at issue?¡±

    A little nervous, are we?

    ¡°Mm, then I suppose we know my husband to be.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not! How could I ever let him near a woman like you?!¡±

    Raeven jumped from his seat, shouting as he did so. His animation was so unexpected, Renner couldn¡¯t help but find his behavior comical. With a single sentence, she had completely shattered his composure, destroying what had held through a much more spirited discussion before.

    Ah, considering his horror, I should have anticipated this. Shame. I have so little practice with that emotion. I so rarely encounter it. This is dangerous. If I handle these next words wrong, I¡¯ll put myself at further risk.

    ¡°Your Highness, forgive my- your servant¡¯s outburst, but could you speak your cause?¡±

    He can¡¯t mean that seriously, can he? His child is far too a tender subject. I¡¯ll need to measure my prods on that point, but I believe aggression is the best path forward here. Belittle his response, but not his indignation.

    ¡°Again, witlessness. Will you really compel me to explain?¡±

    How satisfying it is to say something like that.

    ¡°Oy, oy, sister, you were the one who brought this up! Would it-¡±

    ¡°You would marry your servant¡¯s son, yet bear Climb¡¯s child. Your servant¡¯s son would then bear a child with the woman he loved, and that child would carry on the family name. Your Highness would then be the mother in name to the heir. Am I correct? I mean, it all comes together. Your Highness¡­ you get everything you want, the¡­ man you love, a child too. And, although it would be deception, I would continue the Raeven name and its blood.¡±

    Renner fought off the urge to swallow. Here, Raeven had just spoken what she had dreamed of for months on end: her future; her victory. His words felt unreal, a culminating moment assembled via scores of anxious days, sleepless nights, tireless decoding, intelligence assembly, indexing, target selection, tactical and strategic theory, wargaming, study for every personal weakness she could think of, conversations in backrooms, steady manipulations of others, violence committed afield, violence committed near, violence committed against her, deals with allies, bargains with the enemy, mornings in careful consideration of appearance, evenings spent drilling interactions, and nights spent staring at her ceiling piecing together a scheme that would at once liberate her and Climb. All that, and suddenly, it was in the past. All that, and one final conversation was all it would take to step over the line.

    Things are so close now. Stay together.

    ¡°I have no interest in domains or succession. All I mandate is a stipend for I, my Climb, and when the time passes, the family we make. I will not make a claim upon your house¡¯s estate.¡±

    Of course, if you two have met your ends, then by no means would I keep such a promise. Should a defeat in the east come, it will be better to be a Raeven than a Vaiself. Hm, on the subject of motherhood- Chardelon, again you¡¯re scattered. This moment is overwhelming. Do not attempt to escape it. Table that subject for another time and focus. Little stands in your way now.

    ¡°In that matter, I feel the utmost faith in Your Highness¡¯s word. Actually, in all of your words thus far.¡±

    ¡°Father wouldn¡¯t be able to refuse an offer from you, Marquis. You are an independent - ostensibly - but better a bat than a bear. The March intertwines royal blood, Renner has her puppy-dog to love, and in my claim for the throne, it becomes two of five. Everyone stands to gain; mutual benefit, mutual liability. Ah, this fits together just too perfectly. Still, why run this by both of us at once? Doesn¡¯t forcing his hand first mean you can both lever me.¡±

    You speak too highly of your will, Zanac.

    ¡°Some things require surety of presence, Zanac. Besides, I doubt you¡¯d want to know after; am I wrong?¡±

    A moment passed in silence, Zanac seeming to introspect about Renner¡¯s words. Renner waited absently for one of them to break it, Raeven eventually spurring to action.

    ¡°Now then, I think we can shelve this matter for now and move to a more pressing one. I hear Your Highness has clashed with Eight Fingers, and captured the head of their slaving enterprise?¡±

    A strange happening that these deals would be made backwards. In this way, alliance forces action, not the other way round.

    ¡°Indeed, all true. Climb told you no falsehood. This was only the latest action in what I choose to call a war. Thus, I wish to escalate, to squeeze, to crush. Driving rats into the light is only useful if you then dash them. I now have knowledge of Eight Fingers and their activities in this city, and I wish to reap them, all today, all at once. I can call upon a few of the very finest fighters, but the finest fighters are never many. Lo, I too call upon you, Marquis Raeven. I wish to borrow your strength.¡±

    The two men looked at each other quizzically, before Zanac turned back to Renner and spoke.

    ¡°And, what specific locations do you plan to assault?¡±

    Silently, Renner reached for a piece of parchment on the table - the decoded transcription she had written the morning previous. She had readied the prop an hour before, and now handed it to Zanac. The pair read over it for a time, Zanac huffing as his eyes swept lower and lower.

    ¡°And this information has been verified?¡¯

    Eh? It¡¯s all there, no? I hazard they may not believe me if I mention that this communique wouldn¡¯t contain false information. A white lie, then.

    ¡°As a matter of course. I ordered Lakyus and her fellows to scout these locations, and, indeed, in the time it took you to arrive here, I received reports from her confirming just that. These properties are owned and operated by Eight Fingers. Though, and this is the issue, they''ve been so meticulously spread throughout the non-crown lands.¡±

    Renner gave reference to one of the more enigmatic elements of the capital: the fact that - despite being surrounded by crown lands - much of the city proper was in the rightful possession of other houses; these were entire neighborhoods, far more than the actual footprint of their estates. This was a fact dating back to the founding of the Kingdom; Andrean the First had handed out parcels of land in the newly proclaimed capital to the sixteen lords that had marched alongside him. This was - if the histories were to be trusted - meant as a method to ensure unity by ¡°entwining all houses major in a ¡®scape of common cause.¡± In times when swarms of demons dimmed the sun, such a provision was prudent, but Re-Estize had long since emerged from that ruinous age, and the division had soured into a source of conflict. Consolidations, commodifications, and collapses had scattered the deeds, with later members of House Vaiself snatching up portions whenever possible. The last of these acquisitions had occurred in the current rule of Ramposa, the collapse of House Nunia rendering the last of the city¡¯s southern neighborhoods unto the King, but just over a sixth of the city remained in the hands of the remaining five founding Houses Major. Eight Fingers had wisely chosen to base in those portions; only the assassin¡¯s hideout was inside Vaiself bounds.

    ¡°It shouldn''t be too much of a hindrance. This is the sort of operation that can justify itself mid-stroke; evidence of collaboration shouldn''t be too difficult.¡±

    ¡°Even if we don¡¯t find any on the first go, a thorough search can reveal anything. Unprepared individuals have a tendency to dispossess themselves of devilish documents in rote ways when panicked.¡±

    The three issued false laughter. Renner knew her opposites¡¯ was false, and knew that her opposites knew hers was false, and that all were aware of this, but none bothered to comment.

    ¡°Then, Chardelon. I have a question- er, rather, a suggestion. An important one.¡±

    Zanac shuffled his gaze around the room, checking - presumably by instinct - for others watching. Considering what had already been discussed, it was a completely absurd image.

    ¡°You see, our brother Barbro has been less than honest. He''s taking money from an Eight Fingers¡¯ division.-¡±

    Eh? They know about that. That¡­ ah, this was the cause for such a sudden and public alliance, wasn¡¯t it? Do they suspect Barbro¡¯s involvement in the Black Night? It¡¯s possible.

    ¡°-Elias and I were hoping to use this fact as leverage in the coming contest for the throne, to oust him from the succession. In any case, we deployed a group of adventurers for the purpose of tracking down their headquarters, and we believe we may have found it. We now have confirmation of its presence here in the city outskirts. I wish to suggest adding it to the list of targets.¡±

    A place on the outskirts? There are a few locations where that could be. Push, see if I know it.

    ¡°Certainly. Who can bemoan completionism in an action like this? After all, who knows when we¡¯ll have another opportunity? Pray tell, which division?¡±

    ¡°The- uh, drugs division.¡±

    That would make it¡­ Hilma Cygnaeus, no? It was always a standing question if she or Eidra Calhoon was the division head. This confirms it''s her. It¡¯ll be pleasant to finally run her down. Another space for a half-truth, a way to pressure the two infront of me.

    ¡°Narcotics? Fiendish timing. I had Lakyus attack three of their Laira plantations three days ago. Therefore, I urge urgency; we''ll need to move and we''ll need to do it quickly. They will slip away otherwise. This goes not just for Narcotics, but the whole organization.¡±

    ¡°What? Shit. I see. Elias, can we act immediately?¡±

    Good, he¡¯s spurred.

    ¡°I''d say impossible, but given that this is a matter of my House''s secure future, I will acquiesce to very difficult. I''m aware of my vassals whose hands are clean, but one can never be sure. When accounting for those who can field men in time, those that are clean, those that are tightlipped, and those that had competent fighting forces¡­ I''m ashamed to say I can only rally two. Persuading them isn''t an empty matter either, but¡­ well, there is another problem.¡±

    ¡°What is it, Marquis?¡±

    ¡°Our forces might not be enough to overcome Eight Fingers.¡±

    Hesitation. Why? Doesn¡¯t he know our forces would be superior to-

    ¡°Princess, Gazef is here.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful, I¡¯ll have you send him in soon. Would it be too much of a burden to continue the spell until then?¡±

    A scoff filtered into Renner¡¯s mind. Somehow, she had said something offensive to Evileye.

    ¡°Not a problem.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Your personal guard ought to down some challenges without too much struggle. Am I wrong, Marquis?¡±

    ¡°Well, it is true that they are retired adventurers, and that all of them are above mithril rank. However, the enemy has a superb fighting force of its own, Six Arms. The kinetic hand- no, digit of Eight Fingers. Rumors would place them as equivalents to an above board adamantite-ranked adventurer. If and when they deploy, things will go very badly for us. If we could play a numbers game, this would be easier.¡±

    ¡°Adamantite-ranked¡­¡±

    Zanac was baffled. Clearly, this was a point that Raeven had not made clear to his comrade. Renner clicked her tongue.

    Well, that¡¯s the issue. Fear over the enemy¡¯s bruisers. Fortunate then that Gazef has come so swiftly.

    "Lakyus can split her team, each taking their own location. Actually, I worked on the assignments for this just over an hour ago. As long as - and this assumption is quite certain - that the enemy is not a fighting unit but is instead split into groups of one or two, all of this will proceed without issue.

    ¡°Forgive me, but speaking numbers, Six Arms - being six - are in point of fact up a man- rather, woman, over the Blue Roses. That being the case, having them conduct individual actions feels like a classic tactical blunder. I suppose¡­ well, actually I doubt all are present in this city at this moment. If Lakyus and her comrades feel adequate to the task, then we can attack five locations at once.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to take them in tandem, but that would perhaps push us past the point of viability. A boundless shame; excision et al would be the best possible move.¡±

    ¡°It''s maddening. We¡¯ll have to let three targets go, and for nothing, too."

    ¡°Well, we can simply redeploy our forces after each successful strike, no? After the shock, we switch to rolling raids.¡±

    ¡°Alright, you may send him in.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    A hiss came out of the air as the spell died, punctuating the moment for her.

    ¡°That ought to be the least poor solution, though, this brings up another point. Your Highness, mobilizing troops in Re-Estize itself will be problematic at best. How are we to handle that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with father. I''m unworried on the matter; I believe you should be, too. Besides, doesn''t this all come down to the scales of life? I simply possess a little avarice in my heart. Nothing more.¡±

    A knock cut right as Renner¡¯s admission finished.

    ¡°He¡¯s here.¡±

    In respect to court etiquette, Raeven - as the lowest-ranking individual present - made to open it, but she stayed him with a light tug of his hand. She herself stood, walked over, and opened it. Confirming the imposing form of the Warrior-Captain on the other side, she snapped her act back together, and drawing the door back further, let him step into the room.

    ¡°We have someone who may help us in assaulting a sixth location.¡±

    ¡°Stronoff.¡±

    ¡°Warrior-Captain, it¡¯s good to see you.-¡±

    ¡°Your Highnesses, Your Lordship.¡±

    ¡°Please, Captain, I don¡¯t think any here require such formalities.¡±

    Renner turned back to face her brother and the Marquis, both slightly off put by the restoration of her mask, stifling the signs of that a moment later.

    ¡°I-Indeed, I wouldn¡¯t care at all.¡±

    ¡°The Marquis speaks for us both.¡±

    ¡°You have my deepest thanks.¡±

    ¡°Gazef, we¡¯re about to ask you to once again face those same foes who almost laid you low. By every means it is we who should be thanking you.¡±

    The Warrior-Captain gave an affable smirk, a silent admission that he had thought the same thing.

    ¡°Do you wish to sit? There is a cup in my tea set waiting for you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must refuse. I must return to my duties soon.¡±

    Renner was caught mid stride, she having been in the process of leading Gazef to his seat. Turning around on the spot, she pivoted to face him.

    A refusal? He- he feels he can refuse. He thinks he has a rapport with me - and by all rights, he does. Further, he was comfortable enough to say that in front of my brother and the Marquis. He trusts me. He trusts me as much as he trusts my father. This is¡­ this is perfect.

    ¡°Ah, a lack of time. Such a common ill. Well, in that case, I¡¯ll be right out with it. Gazef, for the last three months, I have commissioned Lady Aindra and her fellows in a war against Eight Fingers. Far from simply the Black Night, they have taken frequent and regular action against that baleful syndicate. Assaults, raids, attacks to reap their men, destroy their outfits, raze their stores, shatter their production, and crush their organization. The Blue Roses have waylaid well over twenty-score of their number, captured several dozen of their highest ranking malefactors, driven countless from their professions in wrongdoing, and saved many lives both directly and through the elimination of the vices peddled. It has been a long, and grueling slog, both for them and - in what limited capacity I can contribute - for me.

    I intend tonight to be the end of this struggle. Two days prior, a scroll fell into our hands that described the sum of their activities in the capital. Yesterday, by degrees of happenstance, Climb, along with he you know well - and perhaps one other - served to shatter the first of such locations, seizing a divisional head and waylaying the others present. Though impressive, I dare not call this feat of his an end. It is merely an eighth of my goal. An eighth of what this Kingdom needs to cut off to live. Sir Gazef Stronoff, I humbly ask you in my capacity as the Golden Princess of Re-Estize, along with-¡±

    ¡°I, the Second Prince of Re-Estize,-¡±

    ¡°And I, the Lord of the March of E-Raevel-¡±

    ¡°To serve alongside the Blue Roses tonight in your capacity as a champion of the battlefield. I ask- no, beg this of you. That you would bear arms against the fearsome Six Arms yet again, that you would do so not alone, but with the support of I, my fellows, and all those others who choose to fight with us tonight, that you would unmake them, and in doing so, liberate the Kingdom from an evil of our time.¡±

    Renner lowered herself into a bow, one deeper than she had ever made before. Her hair was pulled as well, some locks slipping from her back to point downward. It was an act improper in every way, and she heard the breath of her companions catch. Gazef, for his part, kept his warrior¡¯s composure. Closing her eyes, she listened, enthralled by the promise of a response.

    ¡°It will be necessary for me to seek the approval of His Majesty.¡±

    ¡°And I will come alongside and seek it with you.¡±

    ¡°Then, come his permission, I accept, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    Renner raised herself up slowly, slipping her left hand behind her neck to restore her hair. As his face came back into view, she saw his classic, unflappably confident visage. She gave a slight smile.

    ¡°I have things to finish here, and as soon as I am done, I will join you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness¡±

    ¡°I offer my thanks. Please, return to the company of Lady Aindra for now.¡±

    Gazef bowed, and though the gesture meant less than half coming from him instead of her, she found it nevertheless appropriate. Raising himself, he gave a nod to the two men in the room, before exiting the room as quickly as he had entered. The door clicked shut again, and Renner again let loose her performance.

    ¡°You could fool anyone, couldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°You understand the value of this, no? The words you may say to others, the valiant terms in which you may speak yourself. The fervor and loyalty you inspire in those around you. The looks in their eyes. The pride you swell in their hearts. I give this unto you now, a victory built by my own hand. Perhaps, as the years pass, I may teach you to do it yourself.¡±

    ¡°Are these the sorts of games you¡¯ve played with all those around you for your entire life, sister?¡±

    ¡°No. Only for a time, and only with one.¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (21)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    Gazef kept his eyes fixed on the King, the slow widening of his smile a slight to behold.

    ¡°And this Ampetif Doll?¡±

    ¡°A divisional head.¡±

    ¡°Ho? A ¡®divisional head¡¯? How much of the organization does that represent?¡±

    Renner tilted her head and huffed, visibly annoyed by Ramposa¡¯s words.

    ¡°Father, you needn¡¯t be so cloying.¡±

    He¡¯s proud.

    Gazef couldn¡¯t help but crack a smile, something which earned a sharp gaze from the princess a moment later. She was witty, but seemed to be missing the function of Ramposa¡¯s words. They were neither belittling nor demeaning; rather, they were simply a father¡¯s attempt at getting his child to describe an accomplishment he could feel pride over.

    ¡°It¡¯s not every day that a man¡¯s daughter comes to him dragging behind her an arch-criminal.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure Lord Aindra has gone through that many times.¡±

    ¡°Now, don¡¯t you go speaking of Lord Aindra. He¡¯s a poor omen. I don¡¯t wish to wake up and find my daughter halfway across the Kingdom slaying monsters.¡±

    His laugh filled the sitting space, his quarters feeling a little warmer for an instant.

    ¡°Father!¡±

    ¡°Forgive an old man for his jokes.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not-¡±

    Renner cut herself off with a pout.

    ¡°Old?¡±

    ¡°Wisened.¡±

    ¡°Clever wordsmith. In any case, where exactly does the Warrior-Captain fit in all this?¡±

    ¡°Doll¡¯s capture has already alerted the syndicate. If we are to rid ourselves of them, it is necessary to deliver a final blow. The Blue Roses, House Raeven, and with response pending, the Churches and the Magicians¡¯ Guild are to launch a series of attacks that will hopefully collapse those brigands once and for all. Eight Fingers has its team of exceptional fighters among it, and to that end- rather, to end their evil reign over the poverty-stricken masses, we need the Captain in reserve to interdict and waylay them.¡±

    Ramposa lost his animation, going silent. His breathing stuttered, letting out the barest of huffs. Renner remained unflappable, giving him an unbreaking, steely look. In time, he broke his saddened stare, softening his eyes and speaking his next words.

    ¡°An opportunity for vengeance, then?¡±

    ¡°Not just for him, but for every citizen caught in the grip of Eight Fingers.¡±

    Another huff, this one lighter than the last.

    ¡°I understand. Then, I can offer no response but an approval.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Father.¡±

    ¡°However, I do not want him deployed from the palace until such time as required by the flow of battle.¡±

    ¡°As a matter of course. I planned on holding him in reserve until Six Arms is identified, and then dispatching him in force. May he be permitted to bear the Treasures of the Kingdom?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s an impossibility.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°Deploying him alongside the forces of an independent while geared in his panopoly is untenable. Apologies Gazef, you¡¯ll have to make do without.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your Majesty.¡±

    Gazef gave a stout bow, raising his head to find both Vaiselfs with sympathetic looks on their faces.

    ¡°Captain Stronoff, I¡¯ll do everything in my power to avoid a repeat of the Black Night. Expect the aegis of a battlefield cleric, and I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t perhaps bargain some finer equipment from Lady Aindra, or, perhaps, Miss Gagaran.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Now, Father, if you do not mind, I will take my leave. Preparations for tonight are in order.¡±

    ¡°I do not.¡±

    Renner curtsied, then pirouetted on the spot and made to leave the king¡¯s quarters. Gazef did in tow, but was caught before he could.

    ¡°Gazef, stay.¡±

    Gazef caught the back of Renner¡¯s head tilt, though she said nothing as she walked away. With the door closed, Gazef turned back to the King to see his face far less jovial than it had just been.

    ¡°House Raeven?¡±

    ¡°He was there, along with the Second Prince. All three asked me together to render them aid.¡±

    ¡°Gazef, I-¡±

    Ramposa¡¯s words seized in his throat.

    ¡°Hm, nevermind. She has her friends, perhaps only they share my regrets.¡±

    ¡ª

    Lakyus walked into the church, eyes drifting past window after window. It was midday, caught in the long hours between morning and evening services, and the whole space was given unto open worship. Few were here, some supplicants in the pews lost in their prayers, others looking to seek healing. Only two were at the pulpits, a man and a boy - to her eye, a blacksmith¡¯s apprentice - sounding out the words of the Igniteuch under the watchful eye of his master. Her entrance was soon noticed by the clergy, and a man dressed in bishop¡¯s vestments at the chancel perked up as she approached down the center aisle. He set down the book he was reading, and with a short stride down the stars, met Lakyus at their base.

    ¡°Reverend Agdomin.¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra-¡±

    The bishop broke into a coughing fit, smothering his mouth with a fist a moment later.

    ¡°Apologies. Tell me, what¡¯s the purpose of your visit?¡±

    His greeting was highly informal, indicative of the way that those in the service of the churches tended to speak to each other. Lakyus raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Forgetting how to address members of the ward, are we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you can be considered just any member of the ward. But, fine. ¡®What may I do to aid you?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Furnish me with twelve priests of the second tier by this evening.¡±

    Agdomin¡¯s face went through several expressions in the course of eleven seconds, he opening and closing his mouth twice before he was able to speak.

    ¡°To what end?¡±

    ¡°Ridding this city of its criminal and loathsome stripe, and in doing so, ridding the Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°You speak of a great act, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Mm. A war.¡±

    ¡°With whom?¡±

    ¡°Eight Fingers.¡±

    ¡°Those demon worshippers?¡±

    He, too, fell for that rumor?

    ¡°Their occultism has been greatly exaggerated¡­ Most are barely more than petty criminals and merchants sans morality. I would know.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re experienced with them?¡±

    ¡°I have solely dedicated myself against them for the last three months.¡±

    The bishop nodded, thinking for a time before speaking again.

    ¡°And for how long will you require Speakers of the Terrestrial Will?¡±

    ¡°The princess says one night, but things rarely go so clean. I¡¯d hazard no more than a week.¡±

    Agdomin cocked his head.

    ¡°She¡¯s with you on this?¡±

    ¡°It was her who led me to this course in the first place.¡±

    ¡°I suppose of any member of House Vaiself, it would be her. Hm. All correct. I will discuss this with Brother Yilnac, but in the immediate, know that I approve.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Reverend.¡±

    ¡°To take action against those who would so willingly fashion themselves after Divanack. I can think of no better way to end an evening. Say, if you are conducting such a large operation that you would require healers, then who is providing the soldiers?¡±

    ¡ª

    Raeven, along with six other riders, galloped into Ne village. Blowing past a woman and her son carrying buckets of water, they followed what roughly trodden path passed for a road. Winding their way up a small crest, they broke over the embankment to ride into the center of the settlement. Slowing his horse to a trot, he and his adventurers began to circle the central well in a large berth.

    Never imagined I would need to do this personally. Things like this are why we have messages.

    Raeven¡¯s morning had happened totally out of order. Following the meeting with Renner - which itself had gone entirely against his expectations - he had immediately returned to his city manor, scrambling together a force to deploy in the evening. In addition to his standing unit of professionals, Raeven had also sought to recruit men-at-arms from houses other than his own - this, as a show of power to the princess. Though he couldn¡¯t have known better at the time, canceling his meeting with Benra had been a mistake. That man - being an independent loyal to Raeven, uninvolved in Eight Fingers, and in the immediate proximity of the city - was one of the few who he could reasonably recruit to his cause. By the time Raeven was able to send word to his lodgings, the baron had already departed the capital, returning to his demesne in the east; concerns of time and further issues in communicating back and forth had led Raeven to engage the pursuit himself, he himself leading his adventurer team personally to catch the man.

    Looking for the home of a Sir Hele, what would that even look like?

    Intercepting him a mile down the road, Raeven had breathlessly explained the outline of events to come, promising repute and compensation for Benra¡¯s participation. The Baron had agreed without contest, offering on the spot the service of both his knights and villeins who had served in previous Imperial Wars, with the qualifier that he would be unable to retrieve all of his men in time. Thus had Raeven agreed to fetch the most inconvenient of Benra¡¯s gentry, and was now searching a hamlet for a man who would tonight fight in his service.

    It wouldn''t be too shabby, would it? It¡¯s right on the edge of the city.

    Raeven sagged; he so rarely had to deal with low landlords. His arrival in the village had already caused a commotion, children dashing toward his band only to be snatched up by any nearby adult. Most were in little but basic dress, but two - a man and a teenage boy - were both dressed in gambesons and holding practice swords. The man broke his slack-jawed expression and dropped to his knees, the boy next to him a moment later, followed after by all of the villagers gathered.

    ¡°M-my Lord! My deepest apologies, I am wholly unprepared; I had not heard word of your coming.¡±

    Oh shit, that¡¯s him?!

    Raeven thanked the Gods for the convenient way in which he found the Knight, and after regaining his own composure, began to speak.

    ¡°None was coming. I need twenty men at the grounds of Ro-Lante by nightfall.¡±

    ¡°T-twenty?!¡±

    ¡°Thirty if you can spare, but I don¡¯t want numbers for numbers sake. Only honest men, those who stay away from petty crime.¡±

    To the subtle disappointment of Raeven, the man froze. His reputation as a weasel - for all the ways he could keep the politics steady - was none-to-rarely a hindrance. While he could deal easily with more mercenary type members of both factions, principled men had a habit of ignoring or loathing his words. After a time, the knight lowered his head and spoke.

    ¡°My Lord, forgive me for the greatest of disrespects.¡±

    ¡°Speak.¡±

    ¡°This village has only six-score adults. Twenty men of fighting age represents many of our laborers. If they are lost to night¡¯s maw and are given unto He of the and Diamond, this village will be placed in great jeopardy. I will not dare commit them to a cause that will place them in danger if it is at odds with virtues of valor and honor.¡±

    Raeven was at once insulted, impressed, deflated, and elated. The knight, far from being cowed, had spoken in genuine opposition to the wishes of a Marquis.

    Good. Good! If he can speak to me like that on behalf of his villeins, he¡¯s fearless.

    ¡°I believe I understand the issue. You do not wish your tenants to lose their lives in a pointless struggle between great houses. I can assure you this is nothing of the sort. Houses Raeven, Benra, Belenore, and Wager, along with two members of the Vaiself family have committed to stomping out once and for all time the criminal elements of Re-Estize, both in the capital and the Kingdom. You will be fighting alongside House Aindra¡¯s finest daughter, and if we can secure him, the Raven Black Warrior. Every single one of your men will be in service alongside one of her band.¡±

    The knight raised his head, after a look at his son, turned back to the Marquis and nodded.

    Bravery like that only gets us half way. If any of these men are duplicitous, we¡¯re liable for a backstab. I can only hope she¡¯d warn me if they are.

    ¡ª

    Hm, there¡¯s no strictly correct option here. If we assign two score to Lakyus, and the enemy numbers less than twenty, the matter will be over within an hour. It¡¯s unreasonable to have her split forces; though, perhaps the other Blue Roses may cycle through and-

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    Renner jumped in her chair, whipping around only to catch one of the twins behind her.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t frighten a princess, you know!¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°I too. I¡¯m rather persnickety at the moment.¡±

    Though, I didn¡¯t even hear her enter. Just how good of a skulk is she?

    ¡°Uh¡­ I have a coded message for you.¡±

    Renner felt like Tina had missed a linking word, the twin snapping between subjects with little issue. The shift was too sharp for Renner, her heart still dashing from the fright. Her mind jerked, and after a moment¡¯s fretting, began to run again.

    I really am dependent on Climb for my awareness, aren¡¯t I? Had she been trying to kill me, I wouldn¡¯t have known she was here before my throat was slit. My senses are that of a royal, not a warrior.

    ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±

    ¡°I picked it off one of a courrier leaving Dalenoc while I was scouting it.¡±

    She¡­ she picked a scroll off of his person? During the day? Impressive.

    ¡°Expressly for?¡±

    ¡°Giving it to you.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Tina lightly shrugged.

    ¡°I figured you would wanna read it.¡±

    And for that she would perform such an act?

    ¡°All correct. Then, hand it here.¡±

    Tina handed a small envelope face side down to Renner. Seal already broken, Renner lifted the flap and pulled out the letter inside. As per usual, it was encoded, the whole piece of parchment layered in a thick block of impenetrable text. Flitting her eyes back and forth, Renner found no familiar patterns with a cursory look.

    No repeated two to three letter patterns. Looks like smuggling has moved past simple imperial cyphers as well.

    Renner suppressed a sigh; she was hoping that whatever Tina had brought her would take only an instant to decrypt. Envelope still in her other hand, she flipped it over to give it a quick inspection before delving into the letter itself. A routing number was written on the front; Renner¡¯s eyes glid across it, paused, then read it again, and then a third time.

    First digit eight, so case shift of two. That makes the rest of the code ¡°Three-Two-Nine-One-Five-Five-Zero-One.¡± I recognize ¡°Nine-One-Five-Five-Zero-One,¡± that¡¯s the route from the capital courier hub to just outside the city in Re-Urovale, but ¡°Three-Two?¡±

    Renner had succeeded in cracking the Eight Fingers routing system a week prior. Each number in a code in some way represented where the letter would be transported. Numbers one and five meant that the message was to be transported to the courier station north of its current location, zero and two to the east, four and eight to south, and six and seven to west; nine was reserved for doublebacks, and three for nearest distribution center - often a caravansary or tavern who¡¯s owners put up Eight Fingers couriers for the night on credit with the syndicate.

    ¡°Three.¡± Its first stop after Dalenoc would have been a larger juncture, but the nearest center is two miles to the east of the city, and this path to Re-Urovale starts in Re-Estize itself. There¡¯s an additional nexus in the city, and an extra courier station as well.

    ¡°Ah. Wonderful.¡±

    ¡°What does it say?¡±

    ¡°We have a new target. Let¡¯s see, it should be-¡±

    If to get to the Urovale route from the Forsain district, the message must go east; thus, the hub is to the west. Dalenoc isn¡¯t that far, meaning that the hub would be at-

    ¡°That tavern on the twentieth cross street¡­ the ¡®Withered Lily¡¯, I believe. We can hit it after the main raids tonight, see what we can¡¯t turn up. Though, there¡¯s an off chance it would be at the one two blocks south, ¡®Wolf¡¯s Grotto.¡¯ Ah, scratch that. No need to mention that to the men and ruin an innocent proprietor¡¯s business.¡±

    Or perhaps the one to the north-east, ¡°Yilrup¡¯s Stump.¡± Hm, if we¡¯re being thorough, we ought to hit that place too.

    ¡°Fast.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You decoded that fast.¡±

    Renner giggled.

    ¡°Knowledge means nothing without battery. Mm, speaking of which-¡±

    ¡ª

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Evileye strode in through the entrance to the Magicians guild without comment to the doorman. It was the height of the day, the space filled with over two-dozen guild mages, intermixed with a smattering of apprentices, footmen, and brokers. Ignoring the crowd, she walked straight through toward the counter - sight unseen due to her height - ducking and bobbing as she moved through the space. Slipping under the elbow of a sorcerer, she popped up on the other side, only to be displeased at what she saw.

    Shit, a line.

    One of the receptionists seemed to take note of Evileye despite her relative distance, and after a quick startle, raised her hand and waved with wide eyes.

    ¡°Ah, Miss Evileye-¡±

    Too many people. I don¡¯t want to deal with this.

    ¡°Fly.¡±

    Evileye alit off the ground, slipping up and into the air. With a typical spin, she inspected the space around her, eyes darting across the second floor rooms that overlooked the trade floor.

    ¡°Miss Evileye!¡±

    Ah, there it is.

    Spotting the door she wanted to enter directly above and to the right of the entrance, she drifted over, stepping onto the banister and gliding down to the balcony floor. The receptionist who greeted her was doing her best to catch up, scrambling around her desk and dashing towards the stairs.

    ¡°Miss-miss Evileye! You can¡¯t go there! Miss Evileye!¡±

    Oh. Right-

    The moment her shoe touched the ground, a glyph centered upon the point activated, a searing arcane unlight pouring out. Clicks from eight separate sources came in unison from all sides.

    ¡°Stop! You can¡¯t do that!¡±

    The golems.

    Eight man-sized wooden constructs sprung from alcoves on the second floor, each advancing upon her by circling its length. Quickly spinning to the closest one, she raised her arm and began to cast.

    ¡°Crystal Buck-¡±

    No, wait, I¡¯d have to pay.

    Evileye waved her hand, fizzling the spell.

    ¡°Triplet Magic - Disable Construct. Triplet Magic - Disable Construct. Twin Magic - Disable Construct.¡±

    The magic flame that constituted the head of each golem began to sputter violently, each seizing in place as their telestial core flared. Satisfied, Evileye burst into the room she was planning to enter, the office of Guildmaster Relenac.

    ¡°Edicts of Brog¡¯Drukil! You know you can¡¯t just barge in here?!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t care. I need six Abjurers by tonight. Second tier.¡±

    ¡°Why should I- why is there shouting outside? Did you start slinging spells in the guildhall?! I have you know that this conduct is highly unprofessional, you haven¡¯t even paid dues in-¡±

    I don¡¯t want to deal with this either.

    Ignoring his rants, Evileye reached into her robes, withdrawing a scroll and chucking it at the guildmaster. He reflexively dodged, over evading his chair out from under himself, and he careened flailing to the ground along with a pile of delicately arranged magical instruments.

    ¡°For fucks sake! You really know how to make a man look like a fool don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Have better balance.¡±

    ¡°What do you even want?!¡±

    ¡°I just told you.¡±

    Finally up onto his side, he began to gesticulate wildly with his now free hand.

    ¡°Six second tier Abjurers! Why?!¡±

    ¡°Boss, the Second Prince, the Third Princess, and House Raeven are all launching raids on Eight Fingers tonight. What I just gave to you-¡±

    ¡°Threw at me!-¡±

    ¡°-is an official letter of request for your services, along with a guarantee of payment.¡±

    Relenac stopped picking himself up, instead issuing a cast of mage hand to retrieve the scroll, the ethereal hand shooting into the recently toppled pile to retrieve it. Handing it to him, it helped him back onto his feet before dissolving into air. Waving off the breathless receptionist who had only now made it all the way to his second floor office, he read and reread the scroll, Evileye lazily balancing on the heels of her feet while he did so. Eventually, he tore his eyes away from the paper, speaking in a placating tone to her.

    ¡°Look, not to say I don¡¯t like the Princess, I do. That magical light distribution proposal of hers was the most ingenious thing I¡¯ve ever heard a high blood say - and not just because it would be a year of secure work for the guild - but her efforts have a way of going up in smoke.¡±

    Evileye sagged, realizing that she would need to offer something extra to close the deal. Renner had made it clear she could offer no additional platinum than what she wrote in the contract, and the whole team was loath to part with any of their take. This meant for Evileye - whose trinkets she valued more than most people - that she could only offer one thing.

    ¡°I¡¯ll deliver a lecture on teleportation.¡±

    ¡°Maybe a series of six-¡±

    ¡°One lecture. Only.¡±

    Relenac looked off in thought for a moment, then turned back to her with a wild look in his eye.

    ¡°With a demonstration?¡±

    Fuck.

    ¡°Fine. No runts though.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need any more wide eyed kids asking me for instruction.¡±

    ¡ª

    Climb parted his grip and let the knocker swing out of his hands. It thumped twice, bouncing off the door before coming to a stop.

    I don¡¯t get why they have to make them so creepy.

    For some reason Climb couldn¡¯t understand, the knocker on the face of the door had been cut in the visage of an aquatic demihuman, fins shaped from brass sprouting on either side of an oddly thin face.

    Is it owned by a¡­ fishing merchant? Or something? I don¡¯t know. I wish they wouldn¡¯t though.

    Climb resisted the urge to shift nervously on his feet. Though they had fought alongside each other, coming to Sebas¡¯s lodgings unannounced felt exceedingly rude.

    I know I know him, but protocol is that couriers delivering royal summons are supposed to be third or fourth sons of minor houses, not commoners. No, I- I know him. His mistress will understand, right?

    This self-assurance didn¡¯t work, and he was left in just as much low boiling malcontent - not quite yet anxiety - as he had started with. This fear at spurning the etiquette¡¯s specter was a common enough experience for him, but any alleviating expression of such turmoil - balling his fist, rocking his feet - was in and of itself a further insult. Of all the faces of the palace, only one understood the particularities of Climb¡¯s situation. Thus, it was on Gazef¡¯s advice that Climb was now balling and unballing his toes.

    I suppose it sort of works. I wonder how often he does this.

    The odd mental image of Gazef struggling to get through the day floated into Climb¡¯s mind, at once comic and melancholic, both for the reason that the Warrior-Captain could be nervous around royalty in the same way Climb could. The dismal implications of the latter - that no matter how far Climb advanced in the respect of his peers, that he would never escape his inner worry - spoiled the moment, Climb forcing his mind away to the subject of the conversation to come.

    He did say she had her tendency to be difficult. I wonder if she¡¯s like Her Highness Vena, or, perhaps much worse¡­ Where are they?

    Climb snapped out of his mental stupor, returning to the strange moment at hand. For some reason, no one had opened the door. Reassuring himself that, yes, he did knock, and that, yes, a significant amount of time had passed, Climb realized that either no one was home, or that he was being deliberately ignored.

    Wait, could they have gone out? Surely they haven¡¯t departed the city yet, have they? I mentioned that I would ask Renner to relocate them. Did Lord¡­ Mister Sebas not believe me?

    Climb felt like he was struck right in the chest. After a near silent sigh, he took a few steps back to the very edge of the stoop, leaning behind to get a clear view of the windows. The matte white curtains were drawn, and - far from being diaphanous - completely obscured the space inside. He watched for a time, the gentle movement of clouds caught reflected in the glass seeming to frame the moment. A minute passed, then two. For a quick instant, he thought he saw a faint silhouette burrowed deep in the home; he perked up, only for him to lose the form. More time passed, and his confidence went along with it.

    I guess no one¡¯s home. I hope he and Tuare haven''t run into trouble with our enemy.

    ¡ª

    Rarely had Zero ever had such an easy hostage taking experience.

    She hasn¡¯t screamed or wailed. Cocco really knows how to break them, doesn¡¯t he?

    The slave girl had been thoroughly processed. When they broke in, she hadn¡¯t made a noise besides a yelp in freight; she did not resist when set upon, accepting fetters without comment, even holding out her arms to be tied at one point. Even gagged, she had refused to make noise, instead meekly letting herself be carried to the cart she would be smuggled away in. Even now, in their compound, she made no noise. Lying in front of him, stripped bare and bound, she gazed up at him. There was a blazing hate in her eyes, one which Zero couldn¡¯t help but appreciate.

    Shame we couldn¡¯t get that butler¡¯s mistress, though, I get the feeling he¡¯ll fight just as hard for this slave as he would his owner. This is gonna be a good fight.

    Zero looked up, the fellow members of Six Arms preparing for the battle to come. Burrowed deep inside their villa, the lot were in a spacious training room, one set aside to avoid prying eyes. Edstr?m and Malmvist were locked in a bare fisted spar, each bandying for floor space as they jabbed at each other; Peshuran practiced his draws, slowly whittling away at a stone column long since deemed superfluous; Davernoch poured over his orb - completely still - staring at it unblinkingly. The only member not yet present was Succulent, a tardiness the rest of the team had happily encouraged by foisting observation duties on his shoulders. Morale was high, not damaged, but bolstered by Succulent¡¯s loss; it was seen less as a warning of the imminent threat of the Princess and her lackies, more as a humiliation. Thus, when he burst in through the door a moment later, the rest of Six Arms turned to him in contempt.

    ¡°I¡¯m finished¡­ Fucking finished. Ro-Lante¡¯s south yard is swarming. I counted just over a hundred, mostly pikemen with breast plates, but maybe around ten men in full. They were knights proper, squires and other men-at-arms alongside. There were wizards - I think from the guild - priests, and adventurers too. I counted maybe two dozen put together, not including the Blue Roses. They- they were in and out all day, I could barely keep track. Four house standards were being flown; I didn¡¯t recognize them all, but I¡¯m pretty sure House Raeven was flying theirs. I think we need to be careful here. We aren¡¯t facing down anyone extraordinary, and we can face down the Blue Roses, but their numbers mean that everyone else is gonna get screwed. I think we should¡­ we should¡­¡±

    Succulent slowly trailed off, realizing that the rest of the team was staring at him. He shuddered under their gazes, but met it with a similar glare. Eventually, Edstr?m broke from the spot she was standing, wandering over and retrieving a haphazard bundle of clothes on the floor - the maid outfit worn by the kidnapped slave girl. Balling it up, she tossed it at him, he dodging it.

    ¡°What the fuck is this?!¡±

    ¡°Put it on.¡±

    Zero¡¯s tone was flat and commanding.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said put it on.¡±

    ¡°No! I don¡¯t know what sick fantasy you have-¡±

    ¡°If you want to leave this room alive, you¡¯ll put on the maid outfit.¡±

    The whole plot had been Davernoch¡¯s idea, curtly expressed as ¡°Disguise him as the girl. If he isn¡¯t discovered, he backstabs those who come to retrieve her; if he is discovered, he dies. No undesired outcome, the weak are culled either way.¡± Understanding came over Succulent¡¯s face.

    ¡°You want me to act as the fucking slave?!¡±

    ¡°Do you have the mana pool to maintain it?¡±

    ¡°I-¡±

    Davernoch cut Succulent off immediately.

    ¡°He does. Should be able to maintain an illusory disguise enough to get close and kill his rescuer.¡±

    Succulent¡¯s eye twitched, opening his mouth to say something, before closing it. Growling, he stomped over to the clothing, snatching it up with a look of disgust. Malmvist couldn¡¯t keep in his good spirits, chuckling at the sight. This earned an angry glimpse from Succulent, one Malmvist deftly ignored, instead turning Edstr?m to offer his commentary.

    ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll get one of the Blue Roses with this. Turn things into a six versus four immediately. Should be enough to foil that bitch¡¯s plans. Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Boss.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°What hirelings did Hilma get to hunt the princess anyway?¡±

    ¡ª

    Each man ruffled through his kit, stripping their roll-ups for the barest essentials. Short swords were swapped for daggers, bags and satchels doffed, pockets organized and reorganized to fit as much equipment in as little space as possible. Luca had stripped off his gambeson, only donning a chain shirt, tunic and trousers, his blade, and cloak. The space was tight, a hidden basement room under the manor of their client, Hilma Cygnaeus. Luca finished tying his cloak and looked up to inspect the rest of his team, eyes settling on their magician.

    ¡°Cato, how¡¯s your reserve?¡±

    ¡°This city sits right on top of a layline. I¡¯ll be topped up before the hour.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    Luca went back to his work. Possessing all the needed equipment, he began to reassemble what he had scattered across the ground, slipping things back in their pouches, before binding his roll-up and strapping it to his rucksack. Thumps came from overhead, someone walking on the floor above. Luca tracked their direction and sound as it went off to his right, before turning a corner. A much louder thump followed by a sharp creek, the sound of the secret entrance being opened, and then a rapid flutter of steps. There were two people descending into the hiding place. Luca turned to his dexter, watching as Hilma and one of her captains came into view.

    That¡¯s¡­ Eigra- no, Eidra, I believe.

    The man quickly cast his gaze between Luca¡¯s team, before turning to Hilma and asking a soft question.

    ¡°Sont-ils pr¨ºts?¡±

    ¡°Oui. Ponctualit¨¦ typiquement imp¨¦riale¡­ Luca.¡±

    ¡°What, mistress?¡±

    ¡°A gift.¡±

    Cygnaeus approached, reaching into her bosom to retrieve a small cloth wrapped object. Stopping in front of him, she pried apart the twine holding it together, then swiftly undid the wrap. Oddly, it was not blank; rather, covered in symbols he could not place.

    Is that spell inscription?

    Pulling the cloth away entirely, she caught what fell out in her other hand before handing it to him. It was a miniscule vial, smaller than a section of one of his pinkie fingers. Luca pinched it end to end, and brought it near his eye. The bottle was a deep brown, the liquid it contained likely clear. Giving a little shake, the fluid quickly rocked back and forth, thinner than water.

    ¡°A poison?¡±

    ¡°Double-fifth.¡±

    Luca jerked, barely resisted the urge to throw the bottle away as fast as possible. The room went silent, the rest of his team having frozen. This was a venom that - until now - Luca thought was a bad myth.

    Isn¡¯t this made from the bite of two seperate chimeras? Or, was it a chimera and a basilisk? How did she even get this?! Is she dealing with Ijaniya¡­ some other expert poison maker? So say the Four!

    ¡°W-why?¡±

    ¡°I want her fucking dead.¡±

    Wouldn¡¯t this turn anyone it hits into stone?!

    ¡°Understood. Silas-¡±

    ¡°I heard. I¡¯ll use it.¡±

    The rogue jaunted over, Luca gingerly slipping the vial into his hand. The rogue gave his own inspection, before slipping it into his breast pocket and closing the flap. Luca turned, and seeing that the rest of his team had stopped moving, began to sound off.

    ¡°Atticus.¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    ¡°Silas.¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    ¡°Aurelius.¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    ¡°Cato.¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    Spinning in place, he turned to Hilma, ready to say the same to her, only to find she was holding up a halting hand.

    ¡°Luca¡­ Actually, no. All of you Dead Vipers.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You do this, you become the first of your countrymen to kill a Vaiself in the last three eras. Not since the days of Emperor Agrippino has a member of our royal house fallen to a blow from Baharuth. Appreciate it. Now, go kill me a princess.¡±

    ¡ª

    Renner unlatched the sparker¡¯s case, tipping over the leather pouch such that the magical object slipped into her hand. In a deft movement, she pinched one end and moved her hand in a tight circle, flipping round the cylinder such that the flaming end would face outward. Bringing it close to the candlewick, she moved her thumb to the slide-trigger, only to halt right before pressing it.

    I wish to linger here a little longer; happenstance will forgive me a little indulgence.

    "Ah, no. This would be improper.¡±

    Renner - to the confusion of those around her - stood herself straight, and looked intently at the woman to her left.

    ¡°Tia."

    "Yes, Princess?"

    "Yours was the first, was it not?"

    Tia blinked, visibly unaware of what Renner¡¯s question meant, none of the others seeming to grasp it either. Many were present in Ro-Lante¡¯s strategic chamber, half of whom Renner was only vaguely acquainted with. Raeven had brought three men along with him, Barons Benra, Wager, and Count Belenore; both the Magicians Guild and the Churches had acquiesced to her request, each sending a representative; All five of the Blue Roses, along with the leader of Raeven¡¯s personal force, Boris Axelson, stood at attention; the Warrior-Captain was here, he having managed to ensnare Brain Unglaus; a number of other liaisons from other noble houses were present as well, serving as observers for ceremony to come; finally, there was Climb. There were two absences of import: the mysterious Mister Tian and the esteemed adventurer Momon. The latter simply seemed to be late, the travel distance from E-Rantel was significant despite the aerial couriers Raeven had sent; it was the former that Renner found contentious. Her summons had not simply been rejected; rather, Climb hadn¡¯t even been spoken too at the door. Lakyus chuffed, finally noting what Renner was after.

    "What?"

    "It was you who took the first in this war of ours, yes?"

    "Oh¡­ yeah, guess so."

    "I feel it''s only fitting for you to do this then."

    Renner passed the sparker to Tia, who - after some hesitation - leaned in and lit the candle herself. It was the heat source to a wax warmer, the yellow flame licking the underside of a brass tray. Satisfied, Renner flipped over the lid on a small box, revealing six dozen wax bars in a variety of colors. With a pout, she looked up to Raeven and Zanac.

    ¡°Vermillion, or perhaps cobalt?¡±

    ¡°Your servant is of the belief that Your Majesty is perhaps being a bit over-humble when it comes to the symbology."

    ¡°Pick Gold, Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Hm, all correct.¡±

    Renner drew two bars of gold colored wax from, and laid both in the pan. Sliding one, she found its underside had already turned tacky. Pulling away, she returned to see a quizzical looking Count Belenore.

    "Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Your servant has a question, if he may-¡±

    ¡°He may. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Why does her highness not delegate such tasks to servants?¡±

    ¡°She takes what agency she can.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s interruption caused most the room to stiffen, though it earned a giggle from Renner.

    ¡°Forgive the curtness of my friend, though, what she said is effectively correct. Why doff what little weight I have? Ah, no matter. In any case, I¡¯d like to thank you all for your participation in tonight¡¯s efforts.¡±

    ¡°As a matter of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Some of us are more understanding of Lord Raeven¡¯s position than others in the House of Lords. We are thus¡­ piqued, by the decision of Your Highnesses in this matter.¡±

    Though Count Belenore was being blatant, Renner found his lack of tact reasonable. He had committed a full seven of his Knights to the cause, along with their squires, men-at-arms, and peasant levy - such numbers far and away exceeded any expectation on the part of the new political trio, and were intended as a full hard support. Thus, his questioning could afford to be unsubtle.

    ¡®We.¡¯ He speaks for the group, then. Let Zanac respond.

    ¡°I have little to offer you, Count. I simply trust my sister on this matter.¡±

    ¡°A trust that I will never not cherish.¡±

    ¡°Quite.¡±

    A small gap in conversation, Belenore visibly chewing over the siblings¡¯ interaction. In time, he opened his mouth again.

    ¡°Still, Your Highness, it feels as if you have far much more at your disposal than I first thought.¡±

    Renner resisted the urge to grin. Very rarely did someone say something to her that she could take as a compliment. Though martial power was never an end to itself, the fact that her words were now backed by the steel of five other houses, was - at the very least - satisfying.

    ¡°None more than is necessary.¡±

    ¡°How much is necessary?¡±

    Oh, this is a timely opportunity for a lament.

    Renner paused, wistfully casting her gaze away. The room had no windows to speak of, so she settled on the now half-melted wax in the tray below.

    Perhaps I can afford to speak truths buried in lies. Hm. That may be for the best. Therefore, Elias and Brother-Dearest, listen to what I have to say.

    ¡°Ah, where to explain. I have spoken much, Count, but often my decrees are thought to be as empty as I am. Strike that. Not ¡®thought to be as¡¯; rather, ¡®as¡¯. That brothel I destroyed yesterday shouldn¡¯t have existed, yet somehow, after I had given my speech and won over the House of Lords and my ban went through, nothing seems to have changed.¡±

    ¡°Your ban forced the trade-¡±

    ¡°Under the earth, little more. As we speak, men, women, children, and all the numerous exotic stock of Baharuth and Slane are slipping past our borders as we speak. Who knows what new horrors they find at the hands of their masters. With the hanging - if impotent - specter of the law over their heads, any owners now surely blows and cruelties an order more than before. I worry that perhaps my efforts have done nothing but made things worse.¡±

    Absolute silence. A heavy cloud hung over the entire room, thick and impenetrable. Only three had managed to remain animated: her brother, the Marquis, and Climb, all of whom were in some way fidgeting. Renner stared all the same at the wax, watching the corner of one bar slowly distend as its base melted out from under it; in time, she continued.

    ¡°If I remember correctly, you were a signatory. It goes without saying that what you put your name too was but a poor copy of the original. Simply put, though slavery became illegal, there were no tools in that document, no mandates. Much had been given over originally to security, how and what to look for when waging war against an enemy like slavers, calls not to abstract senses of justice, but stringent vigilance. None of that would have been acceptable to the house, and - in turn - to you. So I am now left watching my words slag into the sand, hearing stories of my laws turned back in on themselves. A man who saved a woman from the hands of a slaver accused of the practice himself, city inspectors who speak twice for every word, and all others caught in the gap between ideal and implementation .

    ¡°My words¡­ my politics have a special sort of meaninglessness to them. I am the Golden Princess, a curse I shall never break. I¡¯m left to watch, and to do nothing. So, to answer your question, Count, you ask what is necessary? In turn, I ask why play with the quill when the sword exacts twice, thrice, or ten-fold the price upon the dretches of the world?¡±

    There¡¯s a sort of law to hard power, the way it pulls the world taught. If I had ten times the swords, ten times the spells, what would that mean? Surely it would take me closer to my Climb. In some ways, I feel ready to buy into that delusion wholesale.

    ¡°You wish for influence in the court, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Wish is a strong word¡­ Ah, Chardelon, you¡¯ve compromised yourself in front of others. Please, accept my apology.¡±

    Renner broke her gaze away, affecting an apologetic smile. The count¡¯s face was exactly as she desired; signs of shock, sympathy, and sorrow. The rest of those present were some combination of the previous, but the least controlled of which was Zanac and Raeven. They were not simply shaken; rather, they were quaking in place. Renner exhaled, a gap in conversation that her brother quickly exploited

    ¡°It seems as if the wax is melted. We ought to move on with the signing.¡±

    ¡°Yes, let''s.¡±

    Alongside the wax melter was a large sheet of vellum, already penned in neat row after neat row of writing. It was a declaration by the second prince, written in the form of a response to Renner¡¯s statement an evening prior. Dictated by Zanac to the calligrapher, it was mostly his words, though Renner had offered minor suggestions - none of which had been rejected. Not simply did it match her anger, it exceeded it. With language echoing that of the turmoil four decades prior, it marked the syndicate an enemy just shy of a rival national body, its members and collaborators deemed traitors beyond redemption. By her measure, it was exceedingly hyperbolic, vindictive, and blind to reality in all the ways she thought would appeal to noble sensibilities.

    No one seems to have questioned what I advised, neither Elias nor brother-dearest; perhaps it¡¯s for the best. Say what you will about wicked hearts, even a highwayman, wetworker, or private underhand are not bound to their profession. It¡¯s a simple promise: let a peasant have her fill three times a day so she may labor, let her have the barest of public works so she may drag her labor¡¯s fruit to market, and let her have slack in taxes so she may save the money she makes in exchange. Enough of that and there¡¯s no need for her to sell herself.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll go in reverse order. Eminence Yilnac.¡±

    He placed a signature and wax seal at the bottom of the document.

    ¡°Mister Axelson.¡±

    A second signature.

    ¡°Thaumaturge Enreg.¡±

    A scorched pictogram.

    ¡°Lady Aindra.¡±

    A third signature and a house mark.

    ¡°Lord Wager, please.¡±

    A fourth signature.

    ¡°Lord Benra.¡±

    A fifth signature.

    ¡°Lord Belenore.¡±

    A sixth signature and another wax seal.

    ¡°Lord Raeven.¡±

    A seventh signature, wax seal, and house mark.

    ¡°Chardelon.¡±

    An eighth signature and wax seal.

    ¡°And myself.¡±

    A ninth and final signature, along with the last wax seal. The room seemed to exhale. The declaration was signed, the course of action locked. Renner couldn¡¯t help but smile. Victory felt close at hand.

    ¡°With that, our part is done. Let us hope that the dead are few in number and that no trickery befalls us this night.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m unsure, Elias. Chardelon, do you have any premonitions of this endeavor collapsing later tonight?¡±

    Renner shrugged at her brother¡¯s words.

    ¡°I¡¯d hazard that to be a thing known only to fouler powers.¡±

    ¡ª

    Exceptional.

    Demiurge swiftly descended the steps from the temple onto the promenade, the weathered marble having long since tarnished into a deep brown.

    Absolutely exceptional. Calling her an Empress in the wings is an insult; she¡¯s entirely above such comparison.

    Striding now down the shattered street, he resisted the urge to break into a jog, doing his best to maintain a level of decorum as he walked through the crowd.

    How could she have slipped from a human womb? It doesn¡¯t fit. That she would have such impetus and hunger naturally. That she would have such intellect. No, it doesn¡¯t fit at all.

    The street was filled with hundreds and every minute more poured into the space. The typical yellow and orange hues of his home mixed with the deeper reds of summoning circles, the spilt blood of innocents slung from upturned crosses burning off, profane words written in the smoke. Demons and devils of all kinds slipped from the ground, freshly formed by the brimstone and basalt magics of his subordinates; Castigators, Damascus Abominants, Overeatings, Brass Speakers, Tomebearers, Bacmalaochi, False Fleshes, Poxflames, Mouths of Apostasy, Scales, Nabassus, Obliterator Maws, Cupric Abbinarchs, Gazers, Bulezau, and others spotted Demiurge¡¯s approach, parting in the center of the street. As they did so, fodder creatures retreated as well, Quazits, Imps, Rutterkin, Dretches, Manes, and others slipping behind the forms of larger fiends. All that saw him and were capable of the motion bowed, the crowd rippling as they lowered their heads. It was a sulfurous force; cruel, maledictive, and wicked; one, that if loosed on the world, would bring suffering and woe to all those it swept.

    Her lineage is suspect, but there¡¯s the matter of her full blood sister; one who presents none of the qualities she does. Perhaps a random aberration? It¡¯s not impossible, but her parameters match that of a human. Doppelganger, perhaps?

    A flock of imps alight in front of him, others beginning to form ranks. A pair of mephits that had pranced through the crowd slipped between his legs midstroke, the hellhound chasing them scrambling to a stop, shamefully trotting head lowered around him. A club fell to his right, the two fire spirits extinguished by a freshly summoned Scale Demon that had broken formation to kill the offender. Demiurge flicked his hand, and the hellhound met its end as well, a kowtowing whimper cut off as the demon crushed its head as well.

    Unlikely. I must simply accept her lesser form, though, what of her soul.

    His seven lieutenants stood at the end of the street, each genuflecting on the approach. It was electric, the first true chance to cause inferior beings agony en masse. They would make a mockery of a human nation; desecrate its capital, ruin its cityscape, and spill its citizens. A flickering orb of blackness in the air rapidly expanded to form a flickering wall stretching between two pillars. The low roar of a horn pierced the space, followed by several more; forming a dissonant chord. Hundreds of rusted weapons were thrust into the air, the banging of armor intermixed with cackles and shouts. The force began to march.

    Sixteen years spent in the company of human beings. How willing is she to doff herself of them?

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (22)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    ¡°He of the Salt and the Steam, I sit by the side of your waters to make my supplications and render unto your service I and those by my side. He of the Dawnlit Dew, render unto I and those by my side your aid in our coming endeavor. He of the Sweeping Storm, render unto I and those by my side your aegis and guidance. He of the Froth and the Spray, render unto I and those by my side your providence, such that we may become bringers of your righteous justice. He of the Vaulting Froth, render unto I and those by my side your leadership, such that we may become speakers of your word and deliverers of your will. He of the Secret Spring, render I and those by my side unto the path of holiness, that we may know the Terrestrial Will, and that we may marvel in its radiance and in its beauty; that we may have the clarity of the ocean, that our judgment may be true and and purifying; that we may knock loose and wash away all those who would defy that which is good and worthy and cast them down forever into your depths. He of the Mirror Mere, I thank you for the aid which you have already given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until we too join those sinners in the deep.¡±

    ¡ª

    Tia slipped underneath the culvert, unwilling to part with the black. It was narrow, but not excessively so, and she was able to fit inside. Taking shallow breaths to avoid expanding her chest, she used her shoulders to crawl forward, shimmying along its length without issue. This was the third she had traversed in as many minutes, one of the rare things commonly afforded only to the wealthy districts. Popping out on the other side, she made a huddled dash down the length of an alley given over to a small channel, sliding off of it and out over an embankment. Slipping off the side, she cast her gaze to the right, spotting a bridge, and then a second behind that one, the latter obscured by the bend of the river.

    That¡¯s it.

    The raids had begun, with each member of the Blue Roses, Climb and Unglaus, and others heading into the night. It was a grand act, hundreds leaving the grounds of Ro-Lante all at once to crush every semblance of Eight Fingers. Wizards, clerics, soldiers, knights, professional guards, adventurers, sellswords, and others had poured out, and yet Tia had no one by her side. Though others had accompanied her, they were only there to arrest those she was unable to kill, and instead had to drive out. She was to complete most of her killing alone, and if things went well, would singlehandedly clear the hideout of the Assassination Division.

    She ran along the river¡¯s edge, crouching to stay hidden from the light of the moon. Closing most of the forty pace distance swiftly, the sound of horse clops made her instinctively dive. A carriage was crossing the bridge, and Tia kicked out her legs and arms to burrow herself in mud before she could be licked by its lamplight. The orange glow peaked and faded, the driver and escorting city guard remaining unaware of her presence. Drawing herself out of the quagmire, she dashed under the bridge as fast as before, and after recuperating, peaked around the stone arch to ensure no other eyes were looking into the night. There were none, and she made her break for the second bridge. The distance was another thirty paces, her drawing closer and closer to the wall of the river to stay in its shade, eventually breaking from her crouched run to place her back flush against it, edging from side to side until she was under the cover of the second bridge.

    She said the hideout entrance was either here, or one bridge further down.

    Now, fully hidden from the moonlight, she turned around and began to sweep the bridge¡¯s abutment with her hands. Going cobble by cobble, she gently groped the wall, pressing her fingers against the stone, feeling intently for its resistance. Feeling nothing at breast height, she swept the space above her head, then knelt to do the same for the space below. With her right arm fully extended, her ginger taps shifted a stone; pressing again, she did not dislodge it, rather feeling the characteristic sway of a spring.

    Found you.

    Shifting her entire body over, she carefully traced the outline of the loose stone, clearing away the mud that had built along its edges. Setting her ear flat against the wall, she tapped it a few more times, stopping her breath so she could more carefully listen to the mechanism.

    Creaking, but no twangs. If there¡¯s a bolt trap, the trigger is isolated.

    Tia grimaced. If there was a trap, it would be difficult to find.

    Don¡¯t have much time. Need to go to Hilma¡¯s manor after. Other assassins may arrive too. Have to be quick.

    After a moment¡¯s thought, Tia decided to trip it. Drawing back from the stone, she faced her torso perpendicular to the wall to minimize her cross section. Drawing her knife, she held out her arm straight, using the back of her hand to feel for holes as she did. Finding none, she drew her arm out then snapped it back, swiftly striking the stone with her knife¡¯s pommel. She heard a click, which was followed by a sharp trill as a bolt flew from the space above the stone. It struck the abutment on the opposite side of the river a moment later, falling into the river with a slight plink. Tia continued to push, hearing more clanks as the spring audibly twanged and the wall finally gave away to reveal an entrance. It took her mind some time to conceive the black as something she could enter.

    Alright.

    Tia gingerly reached into the dark, and then slipped into it. The passage she found herself in was large enough for her to crawl on all fours; she moved forward on three, keeping her knife up in front of her. With her off hand, she withdrew a vial from her pocket and poured its contents - a potent snake venom - onto her blade. Pushing deeper, she used her foot to gently close the entrance, the faintest slivers of moonlight disappearing as she was left in total blackness. The ground was earthen, and each of her movements left slight impressions upon it. She prodded the soil ahead of her, feeling the slight outlines of handprints.

    This is the entrance. No clue how fresh these are.

    Tia moved ahead, pushing in a pace, then five. The wet smell of petrichor and the odors of streetside refuse mixed into an unpleasant reminder of the downsides to urban life. Tia resisted the urge to itch her nose, keeping her knife level as she slowly advanced. Ten paces. All was silent sans a dripping coming from an indistinct place in front of her; the plodding, rhythmic fall of droplets into a pool. Tia slowly raised her arm to tap the ceiling, confirming it was at the same height above her as when she had entered. Fifteen paces. The tunnel was deep, exceedingly so. Lurching along, she constructed an image of just how far in she was.

    I¡¯m nearly to the next block. Was this an escape route? Renner said they likely exited through buildings onto the street level.

    Tia stopped, and prodded the ground again, searching the ground for any handprints running the opposite direction. She could find none; every single print pointed in the direction she was moving. Beginning to move again, Tia crept forward. Twenty paces. The dripping grew closer. Twenty-five paces. She heard breathing. Tia froze.

    In front of me. Close. Maybe five paces way.

    Tia made herself as silent as possible, breathing as shallowly as she could manage and using her body¡¯s energy to slow her heart down. She struggled to understand what she was hearing.

    Is¡­ Is that wheezing?

    It was odd. The inhalation was raspy, akin to the sound of chalk dragged across slate. Exhalations were equally strained, like the sound of a man whose chest had filled with air from a blade wound, but only alike: the noise was deeper; almost bestial.

    Is it a guard dog? Using one for tunnel combat would be clever.

    Tia listened for the sound of chains, but heard neither the clinking of links nor growls. There was no gap between breaths in and out, only one continuous fight for air for whatever was in front of her. The sound was too deep to be a wounded human. She slowly unfurled her body, lowering herself into a pouncing stance. In sightless combat, distance and bearing of the enemy was always easier to judge by the still party. She would wait for whatever it was to come to her. She heard a step, and then a second. The breathing grew louder.

    It¡¯s approaching.

    Tia pressed herself to the side wall, curling the edge of the knife to face parallel to her body; dogs had a tendency to blow past when they charged, and she planned to rake its side as it did so, then swiftly slash its gut. Another step.

    Three paces. It¡¯s moved that far already? What dog has a gait that big?

    Tia swallowed, the growing sense that something was wrong. The timbre of the dripping changed;it was no longer plunking into a puddle, but striking something flat.

    Two paces.

    The breathing was very loud, the wheezing growing into a discordant chaos. The closer it came, the less it sounded like anything she had heard before. It was almost harmonized, the voluminous creaking of a lonely wooden home battered by wind on the plain; the noise that a ship made as seas tossed it in the water; the undulations that a sheet of thin metal made when struck.

    One pace.

    She had a sudden whiff of a foul odor, akin to refuse, but far more pungent and acrid. It was familiar, taking a moment for her to place in her memory.

    It¡¯s like¡­ it¡¯s like the smell of a hot spring.

    Another step. It was close, only a finger length away. Tia stopped breathing, arresting the pace of her heart even further. Each anguished moan poured air onto her face. Its breath was hot, dry, and incredibly acrid. Errant strands of her hair were caught in it, her brow twitching from the sensation. It wasn¡¯t a dog.

    Tia broke. She exploded forward, expending every mote of bodily power she could. Flipping around the knife, she thrust into the dark, her leap carrying her forward almost double the length of her body. Her blade met nothing, and she heard a rapid shuffling, which was followed by screeching like the sound of metal against metal as the thing in front of her fled in the opposite direction. She fell down, and the hand she reached out to brace herself struck an angled and slippery surface and slipped out. She struck the ground, rattling herself as she splashed in a puddle of something she couldn¡¯t place. The sound of its steps stretching out ten, then twenty paces. She heard a series of booms, each growing deeper and further away.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Springing up and back into battle stance, she resisted the urge to flip around and scramble from the tunnel. Her breath was shaky, and sweat dripped from her brow. That, the sound of her heart, and the droplets that struck her back were the only noise. A full minute passed before she could bring herself to move again. Though she was still sightless, she looked down. The fluid her hand was submerged in was tacky, with already-dry blots of it on tugging on the skin of her forearm.. Shifting around, she tried to find the surface she had slipped off of. She found it, and after a moment spent prodding the black, realized she was touching a torn open rib-cage.

    ¡ª

    The team strode through the night, moving with hands on their hafts between the alleyways of the city¡¯s upper district. Patrols of city guards - frequent by the standards of the Kingdom - marched down streets at regular intervals, Luca and his men experienced enough at urban engagement to evade them. Luca watched Silas dash ahead, bring his back flush against the wall of the alley, and peek around the corner. Pulling back, he raised his hand and signed.

    ¡°Target. Sighted. Five. Hundred.¡± We¡¯re close.

    Ro-Lante had slipped in and out of view betwixt the buildings as they approached, its towers and walls steadily looming larger. With Silas¡¯s confirmation, Luca¡¯s tension grew. The princess was a difficult target. Almost certainly in Valencia, they would need to breach or bypass the outer fortress to get a shot at her.

    Scaling the walls is going to be difficult, even with alchemical glues.

    Luca and the rest began to move, but Silas hurriedly waved his hand.

    ¡°Halt. Four. Enemy. One. Light Bearer. Thirty. Seconds.¡±

    They stopped, lurking in the black for half a minute as a patrol passed. The lamp-bearer at the head cast his gaze back and forth as he passed by the sliver of alley the Dead Vipers were lurking in, but missed them as he passed.

    No helmet of night sight? You¡¯d think the Kingdom highbloods would value their safety more.

    Silas checked one last time, nodded, and the whole team broke at once. Bursting out onto the street, they avoided the halo glow of the sparse streetlights, snaking toward the castle. The approach would be difficult: Ro-Lante was at the highest point in the city, slumped on the crest of a hill. Its walls had been cleared to a distance of nearly a hundred paces, meaning that any approach would need to be under the cover of invisibility.

    Cato¡¯s gonna push himself to the limit. I guess we all are.

    Turning onto one of the north-south roads, the team moved at a jog, keeping their footsteps as light as possible. Few were out, the night dripping with the heavy weight of summer heat. Nearly reaching the next intersection ahead, Silas hurriedly gave a halting signal as flicking yellow licked the walls of the left turn, and the whole team hurriedly dashed across the street and into another alley. It wasn¡¯t empty: a single person was caught in silhouette at the other end.

    Is- is that a kid?

    Despite his better instincts, Luca couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang in his heart; there was something pathetic about a child alone in an alleyway at night, a sense of failure, even if he wasn''t specifically responsible. Silas rushed ahead, sweeping his hand and speaking in a hoarse whisper.

    ¡°Go. Go. Get out of here.

    Not understanding, the child didn¡¯t move, staring dumbly as they approached. Silas switched to his best broken Venshallen.

    ¡°S''en aller. S''en aller.¡±

    The kid began to approach, and Luca cursed under his breath. Clearly Silas had said something wrong. He himself tried to speak.

    I could have sworn that was right. Uh¡­

    ¡°Tu dois¡­¡±

    ¡°Vien?¡± No, that¡¯s not¡­ oh!

    ¡°-tu dois partir!¡±

    The child continued undissuaded, actually increasing his pace as he waddled over. Exasperation mixed with confusion; Luca was certain that he had said the right words. The child, likely a boy, was far too short to be out alone, legs too stumpy for his size; Luca couldn¡¯t see whether he was just young or badly malnourished. Silas leaned down and threw out his arms as he walked, trying to grab and turn the child round. Somehow, the child slipped past his hands, and in one smooth motion, reached into the rogue¡¯s breast pocket and grabbed something inside. He sprung away a moment later, dashing away in overexaggerated fashion. Luca was dumbfounded, completely unsure what had happened. Silas yelped.

    ¡°He took it!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°He took the fucking vial!¡±

    All five men broke into a flat out dash, Luca swearing to himself. Hilma¡¯s speech about his nation¡¯s history had impressed upon him that this was the most important job of his life, and somehow, a pickpocket no older than six years was threatening to bungle the entire thing. The whole sequence was unbelievable.

    A kid. A fucking kid. How does that even-

    The child deftly vaulted over the remains of a crate, slipping down an intersecting alley. All five broke in that direction, rounding the corner at speed. Luca, raging, let out an involuntary shout.

    ¡°Fucking kill ¡®em!¡±

    The child lept over what seemed to be either a rope or a pipe strung between either side of the alley - a thick cylinder, indistinct in the darkness. He stumbled, scrambling off the ground and turning to face the Dead Vipers. Silas drew close, and as he passed over the same obstacle as the child, it jumped.

    Little was clear except the sound, the twang of a thick metal cable followed a great crunch and the wheeze of a man. The child began to laugh, his hics mixed with a horrid sort of breathing. Silas was caught midstride, hanging in the air as one would if ensnared from a net. Luca and his men immediately came a halt, drawing their blades as they did. Shades mixed in the dark, colors losing their hue to become amorphous masses of grey and black, but Silas''s form seemed to have been stained. A fluid the color of ichor sprouted unrelentingly from dozens of places on his body, spilling out onto whatever he was caught in - as if he was pinned between the trunks of two trees, with dozens of branches protruding from each - and the ground. Nothing moved. The flow slowed, as did the wheezing. The child''s laughing was wrong, something closer to a cackle. The rope moved, its lengths separating. Silas''s body split in two.

    "Steady!"

    "Reinforce armor. Reinforce armor-"

    Luca felt a membrane of magical power wash over him, flattening the hairs standing up on his skin.

    "-Reinforce armor-"

    "What the fuck is that thing?!"

    "-Reinforce armor."

    "Loading crossbow!"

    The rope drew itself upward, form rising out of the night, revealing that it was joined at the top, a third coil upward from that by two paces, where it split into three tendrils each as long as the lower ones. Luca realized what he was seeing. The trunks were not trunks, but two legs, two arms, a torso, and a head, just as thin as he was, yet triple his height. The branches were not branches but spines, each two to three hand spans long. Silas had not been caught in a cable, but gored when it snapped its legs together.

    ¡°Fire bolt.¡±

    The missile of flame struck the monster in its center, wreathing its thin torso - no thicker than a thigh - in a bright flash of flame. The space lit for a brief instant, and the thing shown brightly in the lustrous oranges of copper, its surface brilliant and untarnished. Red shown too, Silas¡¯s ruined corpse run through by its bodily spikes in dozens of places. The light was gone, and the monster snapped back into an amorphous towering form in the dark. A moan came, less that of a wounded beast and more of a voice spoken through a long, hollow tube. It lifted one of its legs off the ground and thrust it forward, with the last of Silas¡¯s still-connected entrails sloughing from his severed midsection and onto the ground. The child had begun to dance, leaping and cackling ever more loudly.

    ¡°Fire bolt.¡±

    The missile whiffed, striking the wall behind it and ricocheting off into the night, producing a second flash that illuminated the creature from behind. The walls on either side of the alley were alight in the reflection from its skin, catching the downward swing of its exaggerated gait as it finished its step. It was much too close; in a single stride, it had covered over half the distance Luca and his team had made. It moaned again, much more loudly this time.

    It¡¯s light! It¡¯s light that bothers it.

    ¡®Blind it! Blind it, Cato!¡±

    ¡°Light.¡±

    The space was filled with light, not the red hue of magic flame, but the iridescent white of magical luminance. No longer an instant glimpse, Luca was able to take in the monster for what it was. Its limbs were spindly, seeming to have been made by tightly wound strands of copper fused with lines of solder. They pulsed, sickly strands half akin to metal, half to flesh. Its moan cut into a screech, one so loud and so piercing Luca wondered if his ears had burst. He involentarly took a step back, raising his gaze and sword in panic.

    Upon its head sat a mockery of horns, tips as pointed as the rest of its spikes coiling too lazily from its brow. Its face was thin, like that of a man, but stretched overmuch up and down. The sockets of its eyes - drawn taught like the rest of its visage - were filled with a squamous, aquamarine radiance; its eyes were angled, profane casts, resolving into collections of crystals that looked to be grown from verdigris. Two tarnished streaks led from the ends of its eyes, joining those springing from its similarly deformed nostrils embedded in its wreck of its nose, dripping down into its mouth. Its maw was another terror altogether, a gaping slit in its countenance nearly three handspans in length, teeth thinner than yet double the length of his fingers. They shook with the force of its scream, vibrating so rapidly they blurred.

    It burst forward, its entire body leaving the ground as it dove over Luca. He whipped his head around barely in time to watch it reach the wizard. Its arm - spindly enough to do so - plunged into his mouth. Its hand and fingers were bent backward, digits upturned toward its shoulders as just another kind of spine on its body. The arm bore deeper into him, nearly to the length of its elbow. It tugged, and then, Cato too died.

    His staff clattered to the ground, and the light vanished. Things turned indistinct, the monster twisting away further in the dark. Another scream, this time from one of his comrades. Atticus swund his sword as it passed, striking the thing¡¯s free arm as it pressed and bounced off the ground. His sword glanced off, doing nothing to the monster. It was too nimble to make sense, its deft movements wholly unseemly for its size. It continued to spin, careening end over end, the bodies of his two comrades toppling with it at speed. Luca was splattered with something warm, likely blood of Cato¡¯s that had been slung when he was carried around. It snapped Luca back into the moment.

    What the fuck do we do?!

    The two most versatile and useful members of his team were dead, no more access to magic or other spells that could rip its metal skin, and their member most likely to effect a retreat in the city scape having been torn in two; equipment he always kept on his person for unexpected situations had been doffed in Hilma¡¯s basement for the sake of a light kit to scale Ro-Lante with; no one on his team bore alchemical fire, nor holy water, and the glues the had were on Cato¡¯s person; their last, desperate tool, the poison said to turn all it touched to stone had been stolen, snatched from them by a child whose actions remained enigmatic. A swish came as Atticus loosed his crossbow. Luca was unable to trace the projectile in the night, and its sound was equally unrevealing as to if it had struck its target or not; he doubted it mattered. The laughing from behind him grew louder.

    Luca spun around in the spot, turning back to see the child. It no longer looked like a boy, having instead become a twice horned demon of the same size. It still pranced, though not on feet, but cloven hooves that extended like chicken feet. Its beady eyes seemed filled with mirth, and it bared its teeth as it howled with chortles. Whether it was speaking in some brackish language or simply babbling, Luca did not know. There was another scream, this one shifting into a squelch halfway through.

    ¡°Atticus!¡±

    Aurelius¡¯s cry cut the space, and Luca turned back just in time to watch him charge. He struck, sword parallel to a second false edge formed from the energy of his body. It struck the abomination, lopping off one of its spikes as it did so, a tarish pus splattering Aurelius and his tunic. The monster howled and swung its arm toward Aurelius, who raised his sword to block. The act was meaningless, and Aurelius was impaled all the same, the spiked bludgeon crushing him against the wall behind. Luca was alone.

    Wake up. Wake up. Wake up-

    ¡°Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.¡±

    Luca began to back away, quaking as he recited the words over and over again. He knew he was awake, and that the events that had come to pass did happen as he saw them, but he held out a small, worthless hope that by speaking that mantra, he would undo all that had happened and return to his bedroll. The monster took a step towards him, covering all of the original distance and his fresh retreat in a single stride. Every one of his comrades, men he had known for almost a decade - first in his unit, then as mercenaries - hung from some spike on its body. It took a second step, swinging over him as it planted its feet behind his back. He couldn''t bring himself to turn, only casting his gaze upward.

    Its torso doubled back on itself, the monster contorting at its waist to turn its upper body entirely upside down, but still standing straight on its two feet. Luca lost all feeling in his legs, and though he wanted to run, he felt unable to. Slowly, as its head shifted - bending as did clay - he met its upside-down gaze, eyes little but depressions of vague black in the night. Its head warped further; its brow and eyes bent out of sight only for its maw to come into view - too distended to close. Luca caught a glimpse of what was inside, past the wall of teeth: a winding spiral of needles curled back into its throat, each aimed inward, like a cruel trap employed for small game. It began to close the gap. Terror. His feet slipped out from under him, but he did not fall fast enough. It took his head.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (23)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    "Boss, problem."

    "Evileye, what''s wrong?"

    "The bank is empty."

    Lakyus clicked her tongue, the sound lost to the din of her movement. Wishing for a smooth action was naive at best, but the first report of the night being that of a setback was disappointing in the least.

    "Nothing in the vault?"

    "No vault, no guards, no traps. The whole building is empty. Not even furniture."

    "Shit. Maybe it was a decoy target. Leave your squad there and proceed to the eighth location."

    "Understood."

    A pop, followed by the telltale fizzling of the spell¡¯s breakdown told Lakyus her comrade had already ceased communication. Message was not a consumptive spell, but tonight, every droplet of mana was especially precious. Robbed of Evileye¡¯s voice, Lakyus was once again set upon by the night¡¯s soundscape. It was hot and drenched in violence: clanking of spears against spears, cascading jingling of over three dozen chain shirts, and the clamor of plate that came with each footfall. She snapped her head back, catching the rushed advance of her four squads of house forces - some regular, some levy - each of which was headed by a knight. Alongside rushed three others - a guild magician specialized in abjuration and two priests - the more senior of which caught her motion and moved to respond.

    ¡°Lady Andra, is there-¡±

    If they didn''t station men at the bank¡­

    She immediately cut off Cleric Geldra¡¯s question.

    "I think we might be facing a greater force than before."

    "A report from your witch?"

    Is it really so hard to call her a Sorceress?

    Lakyus raised an eyebrow, her misgivings quickly melting into appreciation, as she decided to embrace the odd moment of brevity.

    "Yes. Our enemy may have repositioned while we mustered.¡±

    ¡°Faithless dogs!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fighting the faithless, brother. Expect little quarter.¡±

    To say nothing of mercy.

    Turning forward again, she quickly regained her bearings. They were in the city outskirts, away from the core, houses major, and destitute warrens beyond which the land was once again given over to manors. Houses minor - or the wealthiest of merchants - needed not possess explicit land grants to strike ground there, but rather could enter a sort of bastardized tenancy to the crown, gaining the right to build upon the land in exchange for rent. The reach was thus subject to the fortunes of counts, barons, and marketeers; manors were raised, then lost, then bought again, at every step iterated with the fashions of the time. Streets were wide, yet not wholly lit, with magical lights spaced few and far between - the work of disparate landowners rather than any organized effort, and houses on either side were ensconced in curtain walls, made with little in mind besides privacy;. all this sat squat in a mire deemed unfit to work. Of these places, it was a typical summer night, one that made Eight Fingers entrenchment here all the more queer.

    To think a smuggling band was based in the middle of all this. Did no one notice, or were they simply paid?

    Though she was a noblewoman, Lakyus was somewhat of an interloper in matters of society, finding the apathy of her fellow high-bloods somewhat baffling. To her, the lower nobility of the Kingdom could be favorably described as chickens, given over to all manner of strange tastes, bizarre vendettas, and willful blindnesses. It was the latter that seemed to be at work now; somehow, during the last six decades in which the house had been in the possession of the Smuggling Division - by Renner¡¯s account - not one of their neighbors had thought to raise word. At best, it was negligence worthy of engaolment; at worst, treachery to beget a quartering. It was with this rage at her kin that she and her men cut straight through the meandering roads, making no effort to avoid what furtive lighting there was nor those houses hosting nocturnal jubilees and taking no care to avoid sparking talk. Lakyus crept to the next bend, spotting another curtain wall with features she quickly picked out from description.

    That¡¯s it.

    The walls were slung low, no more than a pace above Lakyus¡¯s head. As was typical, decorative crenelations ran its length, interrupted by turrets of similarly dubious make at regular intervals of ten crowns, machicolations every five. As her eyes swung further round the corner, she marked the gate. Its wrought iron form was not barred, but paneled such that it obscured all view of the other side.

    It¡¯s closed?

    Renner¡¯s description of the enemy¡¯s desperate flight had given Lakyus over to images of rats scrambling out of every entrance - this backed by her experience in door-knock raids. Against her expectations, the gate was shuttered. Lakyus felt slightly embarrassed, chiding herself a second later for her now clearly childish thoughts. She ran her eyes along the top of the wall, seeing no pairs looking back, though she found little assurance in this.

    Tina said there¡¯s no actual space to stand on the other side. Only about a handspan or two thick, right? They could have thrown up scaffolding¡­ bore a peephole? I should check.

    Lakyus gave a half-hearted effort at steeling herself for the sake of her men, threw up a halting hand, and walked out alone. Hiding her floating blades behind her back, she made a lackadaisical jaunt down the street, taking no defensive posture as she did so. It was an obvious goading tactic, a promise that if she were to be assaulted, the rest of the Blue Roses would spring from nowhere and run the attacker down; it was thus a little surprising when no challenge to her bluff came.

    Isn¡¯t it a bit indecent not to loose at an enemy exposing herself?

    This was another strangeness. Per the princess, Six Arms was likely here; per the warrior-captain, they were aggressive, and never those to turn down a challenge. That she had wandered out and been greeted with nothing was, of itself, nonsensical. She came to a halt and waited, letting ten seconds pass. Still nothing. Another ten after that, and then another, and another after that. As she approached a minute, she simply accepted the enemy, if they had eyes on her, wouldn¡¯t take action until she did. Bringing her hand above her head, she flicked it twice, and her entire force came out onto the street behind her.

    Alright, if you''re going to strike, strike now.

    She once again began to move, along with all those behind her. They marched upon the gate, remaining uncontested all the way up the twenty pace distance. She was surprised as her feet brought her anigh the gate without interruption; once again she was left with the initiative.

    Have they really not noticed us yet? Maybe they think they can box in, hiding over another manor¡¯s walls¡­ but if so, now would be the time to strike. This street only has two ends. Is this force too large for them to handle? Call their inaction.

    She raised her hand again, this time with an open palm.

    ¡°Formation!¡±

    The men slowed, snapping into well-drilled blocks, each two ranks deep. Shifting past her, they formed an arc around the gate, surrounding it in a half-circle. The two clerics dispersed quickly within, standing in the middle of either far rank, with the mage stepping beside her. No strike. Following up her first shout quickly, she gave a second order.

    ¡°Weapons!¡±

    Dozens of spears lowered behind her, blades being drawn as well. Still no strike. More nervously than intended, she approached, eyeing the gate¡¯s embossments as she did.

    No name, no unique knocker. Completely generic. Nondescript for a secret society.

    Lakyus swallowed and raised her blade. Its voice had been quiet lately, seeming to understand the tide had turned against evil. Testing it now, she heard nothing, merely greeted with her own thoughts as she wanted to have them. Raising herself into a hanging stance, she burst forward,  sweeping her blade in a cross. Each stroke poured black energy into the air; as if drawn from the same speckled starscape of her sword, it hung there, shuddering. With a third sweep, she released the cross and sent it forward. It struck the gate with a deep bang, carving gashes that swiftly lost definition as their edges rusted away. Low flames burst out in a few places, what remained quickly flaking and blowing away. Lakyus reset into a hanging stance.

    ¡°Advance!¡±

    Lakyus took a step, and so did all behind her. Kicking through what rotted wreck of the gate remained, she breached the walls of Dalenoc.

    ¡°He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Breach and Bolt that he might make the way forward impassable to that which would fly.¡±

    The air in front of her bucked and swept upward, creating a thick column of wind a few paces ahead of herself to sweep away bolts or arrows.

    ¡°He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Dust and Diamond that he might let slip the ground under all who would come to harm me and my compatriots.¡±

    The stone she trod on shuddered, then quaked, an audible ripple of earth spreading from the point of contact.

    ¡°He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Ember and Effulgence that he might banish the night, and drive out those that lurk in it.¡±

    The thorns of her circlet began to glow, casting the space anew and washing out the torches of her men.

    Here we go-

    The lawn lit, vanquishing the dark and peeling away the world to a distance of ten paces. Lakyus saw no one. She increased the force of her spell, drawing more of her pool and expanding the ring of light to twenty paces. Lakyus still saw no one. Then, she drew even more, and threw out her light a full twenty-five paces, landing upon the house and then, nothing. Her light fell upon no one. No glints of blades being drawn, flashes of magic; no rush of men toward or away from her. Lakyus jerked, then went wide eyed in shock.

    Shit! An illusion!

    Lakyus kicked backward through her blades, flipping them around to form a wall as she passed through. It was a devastating trick, some spell on the part of the Six Arms lich to obscure all his comrades, yet leave the space intact. She would need to consciously fight blind, her eyes not simply obscured as they would be by a darkness spell, but tricked. She closed them as she landed, twirling around to catch her momentum and capture the breadth of the soundscape. No cries, shouts, nor barks; no whistling bolts from the black, nor hisses of fire; no horses neighing, shuddering in their harnesses as riders tried to hold them. It was not the bated breath of an ambush not yet sprung nor the crushing muffle of a magical silence. Only the low thrums of insects, beating away as they always would. Lakyus kept going - to stop would only serve to invite arrows, but they simply did not come.

    Nothing? Can such auditory illusions be so powerful too? Shit, I need to find the lich and cut it down swiftly.

    As her foot struck the ground again, she jinked to the left, opening her senses to those other than sight and hearing.

    ¡°He of the Crashing Wave, I beg of you in my time of need to reveal unto me that which is foul so that I may destroy it!¡±

    Lakyus felt her body surge, her hairs at once standing on end as the world seemed to greaten. There was no stench of undeath, the rotting miasma of things that had dredged themselves and risen from the ground absent. What little lingered on the air had not the scent of a lich, but rather a metallic aftertaste Lakyus struggled to place. Bewildered, she opened her eyes, and again saw nothing. There were no men-at-arms, bladesmen, enforcers, soldiers, skulks, dark magicians, dark adventurers, or underhands. There were no riders, for there were no horses. There were no carriage drivers, for there were no carriages. There were no rattles, spell-chants, clangs, or any other violent noise, for there was no violence. The yard was simply empty.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I don¡¯t understand- I don¡¯t¡­

    Lakyus cautiously turned back to her own men. What noise came was from them, some of which had dropped into nervous defensive stances while others looked confused. The knights were stiff, some barking stout commands to their men, others silent. The mage quietly chanted, the air around him distorning as he layered more defensive spells, the two priests reciting nervous prayers.

    Where is¡­ where is Six Arms? Where are the soldiers? How is this place empty?

    ¡°Did- Did we win?¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s eyes drifted to the source, a youth. No older than sixteen, he was donned in an ill-fitting chain shirt overtop a rough worn tunic, both those and his trousers stained with the faded yellow of planes grass. The metal cap on his head and spear in his hand did little to bolster his image; he was clearly some levy one of Raeven¡¯s supplicant lords had used to fill a formation. He swayed back and forth on his feet, becoming increasingly aware that the entire troupe had gone silent, looking at him. Prompted by this, he stumbled out a few more words.

    ¡°I just-¡±

    They have to be here, they couldn¡¯t have had time to flee, could they? They may still be inside. If they¡¯re planning an ambush there, then I need to spring it and draw them out.

    Lakyus broke for the house, giving a sharp whistle as she did. The knights broke with her, along with what professionals had kept their wits. Following the path of stones that lead from the gate, Lakyus made stride after stride. The path was pockmarked, dense as was a typical cobbled road in some parts, but entirely given over to the mud in others. She avoided the gaps, fearing traps left in the bare earth, though nothing sprung when the less astute behind her trod through. Deftly leaping over what appeared to be a piece of wood stuck in the ground, Lakyus raised her gaze to the house. Its windows were unlit, even the second and third floors dark, the glair from her crown obscuring all view of the inside. No porchlight - magical or otherwise - burned, the stoop obscured from the light of the moon. Her run became a charge, and though she had the growing sense this action was wrong, she could think of nothing else to do.

    They¡¯ll be clustered by the entrance. I¡¯ll need to cut them down all at once.

    Lakyus swept her off hand, calling forth her blades to muster in front of her. They stacked three high, and as she leaped from the ground to clear the porch stairs in a single leap, she bade them forward, striking the double doors and ripping them from their hinges. Flying clear the frame, Lakyus landed and swept her blade in a tight arc to clear the defenders at the entrance, pouring every mote of her body¡¯s aether into it. Her blade cut clean through a stone wall, the door that had been pinned to it, a gap, part of the doorframe, a gap again, the other part of the doorframe, then another gap as she returned to face forward. She drew herself back upward, inspecting her surroundings. The house was bare, no furnishings, nor drapes, nor carpets - not even an entrance rug. Lakyus wandered out back onto the lawn dazed, wordlessly slipping past the men who had followed her. Of the many things she had feared, aimlessness was not one of them.

    How could this- How could this have slipped by Renner? She said she knew the note to be a trap, but¡­ but I didn¡¯t expect anything like this. We¡¯ve been completely outwitted.

    ¡°Search the house.¡±

    The command was instinctual, something for a scant sense of normalcy, she feeling ever more distant from the present as she came off the porch and back onto the road circle.

    Outwitted? Outmaneuvered. Why? To run like this¡­ it doesn¡¯t make sense. Lose their base, scatter to the wind¡­ To what end? It¡¯s tactically absurd. If we find them in the countryside and attack then, it wouldn¡¯t be a route, it would be destruction. I don¡¯t get it. Gods, I wish she was here. Still, no ambushers at all? Where could they have gone? Were they all rallied together at one point? One point¡­ If Six Arms isn¡¯t here, then, they would be at-

    Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in her foot and a wrenching action that threatened to knock her off her feet. Anticipating that she had finally sprung the trap Eight Fingers had left behind, she snapped back and plunged her blade down before she could see whatever had seized her; it struck an instant later, but the feeling was not the plushness of flesh, woven tendons of rope, nor a solid blow against lesser metals. Rather, the sword simply sank into the earth. Fully coming to bear, she wrenched her sword out of the ground, only to find that she had not trod on a trap, but rather merely caught on the same piece of wood that she had leapt over before. She stared at it, now finally thinking to give it the time of day.

    What is that?

    It was made of two planks that met at a right angle, jutting out of the earth perhaps a handspan, and sinking wholly back into it two spans from its peak. Lakyus struggled to make it out.

    Is¡­ is that the corner of a wagon bed?

    If it was from a cart, it would be completely on end and embedded almost entirely into the ground. More likely, it was a severed section that had somehow been lopped off. The latter being the only thing that would make sense to her, she tested it with her foot, trying her best to lift it. It budged slightly upward, but the earth gurgled and simply swallowed it whole. Lakyus, watching it sink away, felt like her sanity had fled her. She looked a little further afield, tracing gaps in the stones, surmising absently that those were where other carts had met the same fate. Then, out of the black, came a swelling of the ?ther.

    ¡°Gagaran and Tia are dead!¡±

    At that moment came a dawn; Lakyus was bathed in light from behind.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°The south-west!¡±

    ¡°W-what?!¡±

    ¡°Look to the south-west!¡±

    As her crown had drowned out the torches of her fellows, its light had now been swept away by whatever was behind her. Lakyus was caught watching her silhouette dance upon the ground, before braving the font and turning round.

    ¡°A demon- a return of the Demon Gods. No. No, that wasn¡¯t a Demon God. That was something greater. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it before. None of the archfiends had power like that. I don¡¯t know- I-  Momon is here. He¡¯ll kill it; he has to kill it. I- no, no, we are returning to the palace. We¡¯ll plan there.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s voice crumbled away, and Lakyus was set upon by her sword. It laughed in every voice she knew: bright titters, great, gregarious exhalations, poorly suppressed giggles, mirthful chortles, mischievous snickers, the howls of her grandfather, huffs, snuffs, and chuffs of her dour comrades, the swelling bellows of her lighthearted ones, and others too numerous for her to name all came together in a sound that drummed in her head, beating into her mind unceasingly. She knew, too, that the voices were laughing at her.

    That¡¯s¡­ thirty¡­   forty paces¡­    forty paces high.

    The sight was terrifying beyond Lakyus¡¯s ability to reckon, a pillar of light far afield. Her mind fractured.

    Higher than anything else in the city.   Higher than any man-made thing I''ve seen. Higher than-   doesn¡¯t matter. None of that matters, we¡¯ll-   extinguish it? Those flames, how much of the city has    been taken by them?

    The city had been given over to a second sun, a bright column that stretched high into the night above. It drowned out the stars, casting the city anew in horrid, unworkable colors. It was an unnatural, profane radiance that set things against themselves. So came shouts, so came howls, the baying of dogs, the stutter-start songs of birds singing their early morning songs for a dawn that came too quickly, scurrying masses of rats. The world bucked, wishing to shirk what had been thrust upon it.

    Gods, Gagaran and Tia?   They died and left me here to fight alone.    No! That¡¯s not true-   their bodies are rotting, I must be quick to find them before they   - Evileye will have moved to preserve them, I-

    ¡°What is that?!¡±

    ¡°Gods above!¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra-¡±

    ¡°Is that fire?¡±

    ¡°My home! My home is in that blaze!¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods, what of my wife!?¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra.¡±

    ¡°We must make haste back!¡±

    ¡°But the matter of Eight Fingers-¡±

    ¡°Damn them, those flames have a whole district engulfed!¡±

    ¡°Lady Aindra!¡±

    Something approached her from behind. She spun round on the spot, blades swirling in a defensive helix, barely halting them before they sliced off her lieutenant''s arm. He froze in place, wide-eyed. Lakyus tried to stutter out an order, a reassurance, something to abade the fear of her men, but she could find no words.

    I need to run. That¡¯s too great a danger. I can¡¯t imagine what¡¯s beyond that wall. It would surely kill- Shut up! Shut up! I am- I am Lady Aindra, bearer of the Fourth of Four, of the Thirteenth of Thirteen, and yet I am not him. No, I must go to it and die? Why should I? Shut up! You aren¡¯t even here- A demon in my thoughts, trying to bring me to cowardice.

    Lakyus felt the hairs on her back stand up all at once, a low tingling setting on her left shoulder, followed by two more strokes across her body. There was no physical form, but a presence nonetheless, an embrace. Her black voice spoke with more clarity and presence than it had ever done before.

    I am real.

    Lakyus locked in place, the overwhelming beat of a mind turned against itself. The noise was unbearable, a discordance of a thousand whispers, backward croaks, and low moans that was at once alien and yet undoubtedly hers. She bit her tongue to hold in a scream.

    No you¡¯re not, I know you¡¯re not. You¡¯re just- a voice in the sword? The two shades set ever spiraling in the- gemstone that binds them. Yes, you are not them either, you are my silhouette- not ¡°my,¡± you- though I am me, or have I given up thinking I am a curse? Which is it? I am who I am, I am Lakyus. No- No I¡¯m not- I-

    Lakyus bite grew harder, and her tongue began to bleed. She shook her head once, then twice, thoughts decohering with each passing second.

    Bring- bring yourself together. Please   show yourself for what you are. Find yourself. Act my    part, save-   run-    save-   run-    stay steadfast. No, no I won¡¯t let   myself   be consumed by this.

    ¡°Lady Aindra! Are you-¡±

    ¡°I am. I am.¡±

    To falter now would be   selfish   .

    Geldra had seen through her, but only in a partial way. Heat on her face, not from rage, terror, or panic, but her cheeks instead set aflame with shame. Shame mixed with guilt, both barreling on into an all-consuming self-loathing.  Her internal voices at once spoke together, and the noise died.

    Selfish.

    ¡°I¡¯m- I¡¯m alright.¡±

    Gods, what is wrong with you, Lakyus?

    ¡°What¡­ what is that?¡±

    ¡°I- I believe it to be the work of a demon.¡±

    I- I need to doff this sword. I don¡¯t think I can bear it any longer.

    ¡°If something is trying to raze the city on such a fateful night¡­¡±

    Geldra trailed off, his face turning more and more horrified. The rest of the men were broadly silent, the few people who made to speak being muffled by their comrades. Lakyus turned back to the flame. It was as it was when she had turned away; exactly as high, near, and round. It was unnaturally static, what she reckoned to be the circular bound of some spell that had been planted on the spot. She knew not what it was, and Evileye had not elaborated as much in her message, only speaking that it had been the work of the fiend that had slain her two comrades.

    Though, to not bear it against this Demon God feels like an act of suicide. Something greater than the demon gods. No,   no, I cannot shed Kilineiram   , as much as I desire to.

    ¡°What are we going to do?¡±

    Lakyus forced herself to rally.

    ¡°We will do- we will do whatever is necessary. Whatever that flame is-¡±

    She raised her voice such that all present could hear.

    ¡°-it¡¯s a serious threat to the city. We¡¯re abandoning our current mission. Squads One, Three, Four, stay here and make sure absolutely no one leaves the manor grounds. Squad Two, with me.¡±

    Reaching her hand round to grasp the haft of her sword, she was reassured that it was still there, and not given over to some unknown form for the purpose of tormenting her. Drawing it, she rechecked its weight, finding it as natural as it always was. Sheathing it and rearranging her blades to fan behind her, she ignored the incoherent protests of the men behind her, giving a quick inspection of her armor; everything was in order. Centering herself, she felt the depth of her mana-pool, feeling that it was mostly full. Her body was not yet tired, nor had she any wounds. The peacefulness that had so vexed her before now seemed like a boon. Whatever this flame was, she would be fully prepared to meet it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

    She strode forward, breaking into a double march. She was near to the ruined manor gate ere anyone made after her. One, two, then many sets of footsteps began to thump. Peeling out onto the street, so came the scramble behind her. Shooting a glance, she saw that many had disobeyed her orders, men pulled from every squad suddenly in her tow. It was at once disheartening, for whatever syndicate men lurked in the manor would likely make an escape, and prideful, for they had spurned the danger and followed. Eyes returning to the flame, Lakyus made what she could of it.

    Looks like it¡¯s enveloped the warehouse district on Rine. Though¡­ it¡¯s not entirely stowhouses. Some of these men likely have family there, not just as laborers, but as residents in tenements or houses.

    Moving faster, now that she was sure of those men behind her, Lakyus dashed across a bridge and slipped from the side street onto a thoroughfare that would take her to the conflagration as quickly as possible. She began to stride faster, increasing her pace from a run to a sprint. She made her energies flow, her body trembling with power. Her strides grew longer, and her pace grew faster. Then, she set her pool aflame as well, pushing from the ground with such force as to send her flying forth at double her usual dash. Her legs carried her past a manor, then two, then ten, rushing all the way to the city wall. The gate had been left open, and she careened past the guardsmen before they could scramble after her. Her lungs burned, her pace having left all her forces behind - even the magician unable to keep up.

    Another turn, this time from the thoroughfare onto an encircling road, and she had direct sight of the flame further down the way. She glanced at the flanking buildings, looking at their rooftops as she ran. Though both were thatch, neither had caught, both settled irrespective of the wall of fire behind them. The flame itself was not the bright white of a clean oil nor the dirty oranges of an urban street set ablaze; rather, it was a sickly yellow, one whose little licks seemed to turn green.

    Felfire, almost certainly demons.

    Most telling, there was no smoke, no char drifting in the wind; the only smell sans those of the street was that of brimstone. It was not dry, but dripping with intent and malice, the taint of fiends. As she stepped within fifteen paces, much of her equipment shuddered, the divine magics that imbued them reeling from the presence. She slowed down, letting her momentum shed with each step and drawing Kilineiram yet again. Fifteen paces became ten, then five, then one. She had made the distance in only four minutes. She refreshed herself with a swift cast of healing magic, the pain in her vanquished as if it never had come to be at all. Though but  a single pace¡¯s distance from flames so thick and radiant she could not see through them to the other side, she felt no heat shining upon her skin, nor had the air been choked with sparks or miasma.

    ¡°He of the Rippling Eddy, I ask that you understand my need for hastened pace, and that you give unto me protection from evil.¡±

    She took another step forward - now only half a pace - and held out her hand. Feeling the sense of malice dim and change tenor as the spell resolved, she slowly plunged her hand into the flame, then her arm, then stepped in entirely. Closing her eyes so as to not drown them in light, she took another step, coming out of the flame onto the other side. The fire was only a wall, and the city within its bounds was still intact, nothing here having been set ablaze either. Screams came down-a-ways, and when Lakyus was able to level her gaze, she saw a most loathsome of fiends grabbing a woman and dragging her up into the sky.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (24)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    Three words rang over and over again in her head.

    Six hundred years.

    They hung in her mind, black drippings of a fact so disjoint with everything she knew. Evileye¡¯s message was nearly incomprehensible, a half strung together rant about beings that had stepped off the pages of history that gradually slurred into warnings of imminent death to all. Death was a theme, Gagaran and Tia having been caught by hellfire that killed them both on the spot. Had it not been for the sudden appearance of the Dark Hero Momon, she would have been slain along with the rest of the lot. Renner would have suspected a trap, some half-hewn trick on the part of Eight Fingers to expose her identity as secret commander to the Blue Roses were it not for the sudden dawn between the crenelations she now peered through.

    It''s a dark, yet simple explanation. Why did we burst into the enemy''s quarters only to find them empty and bare? For fel powers were at work.

    The dark had been peeled back by felflame, the smothering black of a summer night violently torn away. It would seem devils had little care for the world, denying the decency of night with a pillar of flame. Unnatural was a woefully inadequate word. The blaze was profane, a symbol of blasphemy, and were it not for the fact that she had already struck the gods from her list of things that could be said to exist, she would hazard it a spite to them. Not only was it stunning, it was nonsensical, given over to all the properties of that which it was not. Flame did not stand still, it leapt; flame did not tower, it billowed; flame did not shine unlight, it sparkled. The most maddening element of the column was its perfect roundness - as if it had been staked to a spot and swept around a constant distance; another point to terrify her.

    Sleuthing, seizing, sicking, splitting, slaying, scrapping, and stealing away; skulking for slaughter, scratching the seemly, and scarring the sensible; how ought one do something other than sink, slip beneath the surface and safeguard themselves in stupidity? There is no sanctuary in surrender, only the sepulcher. Nor in the opposite - sanguine struggle is simply sacrifice striped in sanctimoniousness. So goes skill, so goes surety, stripped in stride by sidelong scraping of the sulfurous and cruelly spake. Sundown shan¡¯t have summoned such a sordid sundering, but lo, submission; lo, slavery. So looms the sword; all shall be subsumed in the gentle currents of soil, lost like the scent of petrichor o¡¯ertopped by smothering billows of smoke. Six hundred years.

    She shook, stuck in a sort of blind fear that rendered her immobile. Up until five minutes prior, the evening had mostly proceeded to plan. With the departure of their forces from the palace, she and her comrades had made for Ro-Lante¡¯s civic warroom where they intended to pass the evening, shuffling around wooden figures overtop a map of the city. Eight Fingers apparent abandonment of their bases was a minor frustration, but not one she had been overly concerned with, instead taking the opportunity to sow whatever paranoia she could with false warnings of a traitor - a possibility she had evaluated and dismissed. When the next message from Evileye came, it was not one of contact with the enemy¡¯s ace, nor the news of Climb¡¯s death she had so hoped for, but rather something alien entirely. She had dashed out of the  war room up onto the battlements, where she witnessed a truer kind of horror than she had known before. Without much thought, she had simply sunk down - rump first - onto the ground, watching the flame with little animation. Others had come, screamed, cried, but that all faded away for her. Looking around now, she saw that besides those knights brave or foolhardy enough to look at the spire along with her, all others had left. Where Zanac or Raeven had gone, she did not care about. She was lost to the sight, a decision she had no doubt was wrong, yet felt no impetus to correct.

    Did the enemy bind themselves up in a contract? Some fiendish pact? Is that even possible? It¡¯s something out of a storybook, a foe so comically wicked that they would sooner turn to the dark powers than admit defeat. That can¡¯t have been it, right? Eight Fingers is not a cult, not a secret society dedicated to blighting the land and blotting out the sun. Divanack- Divanack is just a¡­ an aesthetic, not an ideal. They are humans, and humans alone. Merchantmen who conspire to murder, not to destroy. I¡­ but what if they did?

    What would they have given up? Their very being? That inner light of a thing that dreams itself? What would nightmares like this want? Or, perhaps this is the reward, the bargain. ¡°Give us passage, and we shall slay your enemies.¡± In this way. But Evileye mentioned this¡­ foe¡­ this Jaldabaoth was a greater force than those of two centuries ago. Her surety in that is a question for another time, but such power¡­ such a black ability.

    When the world was made from land to abattoir then, it took years for the heroes of the age to come together, and although slain by the enemies of the same, they were by every account greater than those who.exist today. Some remain, Rigrit - and perhaps those whose existence she helps keep secret - and by no means are those current warriors of today useless. Gazef, Lakyus, Azuth, this roguish Brain who has chosen apropos absurdity in assisting Climb, the more elusive  and enigmatic Sebas who seems to bind Climb and Brain together, and - though I am loath to make such a judgment without meeting the man - the mightiest of them, Momon, along with his bondswoman sorceress Nabe.

    Imaginings came to her now. Pictures of battle, swords swung, spells slung. Blurred images of heroes fighting monsters - to Renner, little more than the illustrations in Zanac¡¯s dark bestiaries she had peeked at as a child. Lakyus was there, as was her team. So was the pitter-patter of her floating blades, as best as Renner could sooth them working. It was clear to her how little she knew, only being privy to the aftermath of violence, not it in conduct. Her heart seemed to slow, chest growing heavy.

    Of those, I am not. Were a thing to drop from the sky now, perch on the battlements beside me, and step closer, I would be at its mercy - of which asking for from a demon is laughable. All I may do is see and behave as others. To peer and ipso facto speak ¡°the netherrealms, inescapable gaols, and eternal, twisting doom.¡± Foolish. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

    Very rarely did Renner come to such moments: times where she could say with certainty that she was experiencing things as was everyone else. Though she had long since severed her inner self from humanity, her body was her body and was thus immutable. Per the legends, demons cared ought of spirits, but naught of souls, and as Renner was in every way indistinguishable from her fleshy brethren, she could expect little but the same fate were she to meet one. Thus, twice within two months time, was Renner affected to a danger unto her person: not the clean slit of a sword, but the ugly scars of a bite. The image was visceral: in place of a blade through her chest, she now pictured it crushed in the jaw of a terror she knew not of.

    Is that my death? Why not another victim? Another person for the eating. Another bellow. Another scream. Another dying. Another hunger. Forgotten in the gullet of some grand fiend, or perhaps a pack of the little ones. Six hundred years.

    What of my flesh? Its flavor? Tender from sixteen years of gentle living? Stringy from the same? What palate will I appeal to? Perhaps it will be soured by my disposition. Perhaps bolstered. The special thrill of a princess torn in two. How does high blood pair? Six hundred years.

    The steady thrum of obliteration. Not of I, but of man. These creatures of malediction penning the citizens, running them about until they die or their minds finally slag and cave in. I¡¯m sure either is desirable. Is that not the legend from before? Even the time further back; those enemies of yore defeated by those interlopers to the Godhead.

    That¡¯s the worst of this, the utter disconnect with everything else that is, was, or will be. Why six hundred years? Why such a holy count profaned? Why the obfuscation by Slane? Was this by their knowledge? In the same way, were not the Demon Gods of two hundred prior not itself four hundred distant? Why now pluck out time and obfuscate it? Why need the world swell and disgorge itself, akin to the flesh around a tick bite, except on the very surface of reality?

    It is a fact unto itself. Self justifying, self fulfilling. Why is Re-Estize now set upon by demons? Because six hundred years have passed in secret. Why is that hidden time significant? Because we are now set upon by demons. There is no root, yet the deepest nooks of my heart sing it to be so. I think I¡¯ve gone and lost my mind.

    Renner began to gently laugh, burrowing her head in her hands. Tears flowed soon after, an admission of weakness she knew not she had. They were childlike, the sorts of powerless, confused lamentations she gave as a little girl, before she had hid herself. She felt as small as she had then, the things she had failed to understand at the time pouring back in; her lot, those chance things assigned to her like sex, place, and now mortality. A thankfully long minute passed, her light sobbing stiffening the knights to either side, before she trailed off.

    Then, in the losing of things, what would a sickly mind look upon that pillar and see?

    Renner raised her head and sat there staring for a time at the flamewall. The taste of the moment began to change; it shifted from sorrow to a tepid hollowness, then the faintest traces of anger, and lastly, genuine offense.

    Why, a personal attack. An insult. A mockery. Do not pitly things jeer?

    Renner bit her lower lip, eyes darting away from the column.

    The timing is too suspect; too pinpoint. Why strike now? At the very least, ¡°their¡± action - if I can use such a humanizing pronoun - was conducted with the knowledge of my own. Why raid in the window between sundown and my assault? Why strip the Eight Fingers bases bare? They were searching for something. Evileye spoke as much, but the implication¡­ Why strike now? Because whatever they desire would have fallen into our hands via the operation. The open way in which this object of desire was spoken to Momon places a burden on this line, but it aligns with their actions thus far.

    Why strike now? Can they not simply take any object from us? I don¡¯t see how we could safeguard it when they have so outmaneuvered us as is. Why strike now? The organization itself? If they - as legend has it - are so invested in the suffering of mankind, seizing upon and perhaps controlling an organization like Eight Fingers would be preferable, but that could simply have been done the day prior. Why strike now? The only explanation is that our action¡¯s undoing by the breach made by theirs is critical to their objectives. To that, it must be some¡­ manipulation. Some gambit. I refuse to accept this has nothing to do with me.

    Renner hitched then held out her left hand. The nearest knight gently folded it into his own, then pulled her up. She turned to him, gave a weak nod and slipped out of his hold to wander to the edge of the battlements, leaning over and peering - not at the flame, but at the city before it.

    Pray tell, Chardelon, are you to spend these next hours in womanly terror, or will you cut loose the moores of reality and dive headlong into destruction?

    The question was wholly rhetorical. Renner cracked a wider smile than she had in the last decade.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    I choose madness.

    ¡ª

    For some reason she couldn¡¯t place, Gaye stirred. Light was playing across her eyelids. Without much thought, she flipped over onto her other side, grimacing. Day had come quickly, and she was much too tired to face it. She groped lazily at the spot beside her, hand finding nothing but more of the blanket and straw.

    Where is he?

    Her husband, Alrec, was missing. She spoke out his name.

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    With a few more prods against nothing, she gave up and flopped back down. She was much too tired despite the apparent dawn. General, malformed worries began to pour back into her mind: fixing breakfast, washing the children, washing the tenement, fixing lunch, and so on. More specific fears too; mending a pile of scarves to sell, getting Alrec to put down the pipe and keep it down, tending to her swelling belly. Gaye made to nuzzle a little longer in the covers, summer days affording a little time spent languishing after sunrise. Then came a scream from the street and a rattling at her window.

    She shot out of the mound, eyes wide. A mass was hanging on the shutters, but the image refused to resolve, her vision blurry from her sleep. She yelped, and blinking several times, stumbled back out of the blanket, scrambling to keep it on her bare self as she drew upward along the wall.

    A thief?!

    Burglaries were part and parcel of city living, a fact that had seen her possessions stolen twice over. Her eyes had still not cleared, and she wiped in frustration.

    ¡°Alrec!¡±

    Her cry was not met by her husband, but with a wrong-sounding snicker and more screams from the street. Vision restored, she leveled her eyes again, only to not understand what she was seeing. A red form hunched on an inward-swung window shutter peered at her, beady yellow eyes sunk into a face with a nose far too flat. A monster. She cried again, this time higher and louder, and again came the snicker - altered in the same way. The squat beast turned upside on the shutter, taloned hands reaching out to carry it down the slats, folded fleshy wings and an iron tail rapping against it.

    ¡°Alrec!¡±

    The monster dropped to the ground, clacking against the floor as it began to scramble towards her. Gaye yelped again, bolting from the sleeping room into the main space. Her flight through the kitcher was too wild; and she lost her balance and careened to the floor. Slamming into the hardwood headfirst, she split her chin, sliding forward a finger length more before finally stopping. Dazed, she drew her head upward slowly. The first thing she caught was Alrec¡¯s pipe, its smoldering contents strewn about the floor in a lazy arc. This snapped her back, and she was suddenly aware of what had happened.

    Gods, I¡¯ve taken a fall. Oh my Gods, a fall!

    ¡°Alrec!¡±

    Getting a hand under herself, she slipped it down to her belly. She had fallen straight onto her front, her still-growing child with her. More clicking came from behind, and she scrambled forward, bobbing her head higher. She caught a quick glimpse of three sets of legs, those of her husband and her two children. Alrec was huddled in a corner, Lia and Keyle pressed against the wall behind him.

    Why isn¡¯t he helping?!

    ¡°Al-¡±

    She raised her eyes a little further, his name lodged in her mouth. To either side of her family were stranger things, things that explained their stillness and silence. Two more monsters: one of equal height to her husband; the other hunched over, yet nearly to the height of the ceiling.

    Beastmen? Here?! But we''re so far from the border!

    The first had the head of a crow, black feathers layered down its form before they disappeared beneath its clothing. It stood tall like a man, holding a thick tome in its right hand - gnarled and black - its left offering a profane symbol. Donned in vestments akin to that of a priest, it had a great shelf hanging off its back that held two little monsters - these of the kin that had burst in through her window, though smaller. They were stacked end over end, perched on protrusions from the thing, the top creature penning something with its scroll, the bottom creature in the business of managing a miniature library. The monster squawked, the low beat of a corvid bearing its eyes at her.

    The second was hulking, two horns curling from a bone white goat¡¯s skull - as if its flesh had sloughed off. Torso like that of an ab-man, it - along with the rest of its body - was entirely bare. Two thick arms hung toward the ground, covered not in flesh, but layered scale. Its legs were furred, bending back at the knees to end in hooves. Sprouting from its back were two wings of the same form as the little monster, only greater, stretching from the ceiling from the floor. It bore in its left hand something she could not place, her eyes too blurred with tears.

    ¡°Darlings!¡±

    ¡°Momma!¡±

    ¡°Ma!¡±

    ¡°Gaye! Gaye get out of-¡±

    The larger monster whirled and backhanded Alrec, throwing him off his feet and to the side. He slammed into the wall beside them, not bouncing off or barreling through, but embedding inside it. Streams of blood began to flow down, the skin of his breast having been cut open in a dozen places by the wooden hatching that supported the daub - in some places, embedding inside of him. She screamed. Her children screamed. The monster laughed. Gaye fought herself onto her feet.

    I need to get to them!

    ¡°Darlings-¡±

    The hulking thing twirled again. An alien clicking followed as the thing in its left hand flew forth and whipped around her children, sending them both to the ground, bound. It was a net, the weave patterned like a honeycomb. It was woven brass, some of its cells occupied by mechanisms she couldn¡¯t place, and between which crackled bright sparks. It did not go limp on their forms as was natural, rather slithering round to encase them completely, with a dozen clicks as latches along its length connected and locked together. A thread emerged from the end, running back to the larger monster, where it looped around its finger. She took a step forward, then a second, yelling.

    ¡°Lia, Keyle!¡±

    She took three more before she realized what she had done. The monster was too close, it turned to look at her.

    I don¡¯t- I don¡¯t want to-

    Her mind seized. It had taken her children, and would soon take her; they were crying for her, struggling to vocalize between bolts and bangs; it was a horrid, horned thing, something that would try to take her. Before she knew it, she had taken a step back. Her children screamed louder. It reached out, fingers uncurling from a palm wider than one of her handspans. She scrambled back more, blindly falling into the grasp of the lesser aberration.

    Oh my Gods, it¡¯s got me.

    Close enough to the feathers, she was struck with the smell of the thing, the choking scent of tainted smoke.

    That''s the smell of sulfur. These aren''t beasts, these are demons!

    Beastmen were a matter Gaye could account for: creatures that - even if superior to the fair races in physical ability - could at least be framed within the bounds of the world itself. Beastmen warred each other and raided humanity; raiding was conducted for the purposes of slaving; slaves were either chattel or livestock. Grim realities as they were, they were at least realities. No such certainly existed with fiends. Its pitch-colored hand curled around her arm and began to pull her back.

    ¡°Darling!¡±

    Her husband began to slip, the hatching that held him up buckling. He was sent to the floor, yet not flush with it, still cleaved to the wooden protrusions. Alrec¡¯s face was ruined; she and her children cried out again. The larger demon turned its head, growing low and pointing at the wall. One of the little fiends on the crow demon¡¯s crawled out onto its book arm, wrapping its talons around and opening a little pocketbook of its own. It, and the thing that held her spoke in tandem, a ring of arcane words iridescing in the air. It shifted into seven separate forms in rapid sequence, the last symbol snapping and scattering the circle. A tremendous current of air rushed forward, the wall in front of her blowing open, exposing the street beyond. Gaye tried to cower, but the demon held her firm, interposing her between it and the backblast of wooden shards. Several embedded in her front, and she winced in pain.

    ¡°Momma!¡±

    Then, before she could catch up to the moment, she was pushed from behind. A frantic look round, and she saw the greater demon following after, dragging her children behind.

    They¡¯re capturing us. Why? Oh Gods, why?!

    The pace of her breathing accelerated, tears mixing with sweat. She couldn¡¯t imagine what was to come. Priests had warned her before of demons, but always in the abstract, the necessity of guarding her faith or striving for better worship; bards had spoken of the Demon Gods, singing laments or war chants, reciting the histories of those dark times two centuries prior. There were always threats: the Empire¡¯s knocking in the east, turmoil in the royal court, the powder that changed hands on every street corner, but times did not yet seem that dark. Now, for no reason at all, monsters had slipped out of the black, slew her husband, murdered her unborn child, bound those living of hers, and stole her away as well.

    Another shove, this one much mightier, and she was sent out onto the street, rattling in the fiend¡¯s arms. The outdoors was bright, not in sunshine or moonlight, but in a sickly orange. Catching the sky between the buildings, she saw the lack thereof, the firmament instead given over to flame. Had it not been for the thin patch of night above, she would have thought it the netherrealms. A thud sounded as the other beast stepped out, the two turning to look at each other and going still.

    ¡°Momma!¡±

    ¡°Darlings, it¡¯s going to be alright! It¡¯s going to be-¡±

    Her youngest had dissolved entirely into tears, wailing uncontrollably. One of her fingers appeared to be stuck in the mesh, twitching unceasingly as bolts of light struck it from all sides. Her elder wasn¡¯t much better, his cries for help trailing away into barely vocalized howls. Gaye was terrified; then, she was pulled back, and her children were dragged forward.

    No! No!

    ¡°Momma! Help!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming! I¡¯m-¡±

    She reared her body and twisted back, slamming her elbow right into the gut of her captor. The beaked thing grunted, but did not let go. Its grip around her arm tightened, every swing of her arm she could force lesser than before. The little demon on its arm swung off of it onto her, scrambling up her arm. She bucked, but it held on, quickly scrabbling up and on top of her shoulder. Its feet danced along her flesh, then, wrapped around her neck, the hazy feeling of her hairs standing on end. Twitching back, she saw it exchange books with the other little demon, swapping for a lighter-toned leather with a depiction of a man on it. The bird-like thing snapped its tome shut, handing it off before grabbing her from behind and forcing her head forward. The demon dancing along her neck seemed to pause, before running its talons gently along her spine. Seeming to find the right spot, it slipped them in, her wail turning into a scream.

    It was pain unlike she had ever known. She could hear the muffled noise of something being cut, a snipping intermingling with her still audible heartbeat. She fumbled, the monster removing its claws to catch her. She was suddenly unable to tell where her feet were; she could trace the budding heat of blood spurting from her neck, down the length of her back, but then it seemed to disappear when reached her groin, dissolving into a indistinct mass of sensation akin to that of a limb that had been slept on. It yanked back again, and this time she was unable to brace against it, ripping her back a distance double what it had before. Her head snapped forward before bouncing back and again lolling downward. Dazed, she tried to shriek her children''s names again, but lost them in the space between her mind and mouth. She was transfixed on her feet. They were limp, ratting off the ground impotently as she was dragged back. She tried to kick them, then, to move them. She couldn¡¯t.

    I¡¯ve gone lame. Just like Uncle Eddric.

    She forced her head up against her daze, finding her children were already ten paces distant. She tried to scream again, only a whimper escaping her lips. Her vitality continued to flow from her, streaks of it now starting to emerge out from under her. She heard more cries from either side as more people were dragged into the street by monsters: the Edrics, the Hellrens, the Fores, the Portrellens, Mister Alekson, Jelre and Yilre Heibachs, her best friend Sathilya, her cousin Benric, some of the girls from the local brothel, the Boudel children, all but the eldest Kilre, Miss Weise, Chardel Unruh, Zanue Ilwra, the new couple who had just moved in across the street whom she hadn¡¯t introduced herself to properly yet, the smith from a street down, and many others she didn¡¯t know. All were being split apart, the fiends grabbing, tugging, and doing everything they could to split parent from child, wife from husband, brother from sister, friend from friend. Some gave up, going limp as they were dragged away; others fought meaninglessly; some were struck; some were murdered; some were eaten. The things that did these deeds came in many, varied forms: lanky abominations thrice her height covered in spines, two-legged frogs adorned in faces with the bulk of a wagon on end, greater gray skinned kin of the winged red things, prancing motes of flame that weaved between all the debris of the street, green gyres of the same with ever shifting mouths betwixt the tendrils, pestilent things the size of a man with jaws encased in brass, metallic things akin to mares though stretched to twice its length, hounds whose nostrils shot smoke and mouths foamed slag, mockeries of a person with words written in floating bloody streaks in place of heads, and more that she could no longer care to mark.

    She could not break away; she could not take flight; she could not engage in heroics, nor succumb to cowardice; she could not move her legs; she could not save her children, nor abandon them; she could not run, she could not walk, she could not be paralyzed in fear. There was nothing she could choose to do except pray.

    Oh Gods, help me!

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (25)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

    Lakyus raised her gaze, seeing the red glint of arrow points peeking out of Ro-Lante¡¯s turrets. She advanced fearlessly, marching up the road to the gatehouse along with those of her men brave enough to follow her. Raising her free hand to her mouth, she whistled shrilly. A faint cry ¡®scaped from behind the walls.

    ¡°Raise the gates!¡±

    A moment passed, and then rang the sound of a great clicking mechanism. The first wooden gate swung inward, then the one behind it, Lakyus seeing straight through to the inner wall. Neither of the portculli had been dropped, and she walked in unaccosted. As she was making through, she reflexively looked upward, catching furtive eyes bearing down on her through the murder holes. Levelling her gaze, she watched a knight creep round into view just as she emerged back out into what was left of the night. He was sickly looking, the felflame hanging on the world as did the sun on a cloudy day and ergo lighting him from all angles - though she supposed he was given over to genuine illness as well. Seeing her, he wandered closer, eyes wide and mouth ever slightly agape.

    "Lady Aindra-"

    "Sir¡­ Recanthort. Where is the Princess?"

    "I- uh, the war room."

    ¡°Lead me.¡±

    After a moment¡¯s lag, he nodded and powerlessly gestured at a smaller door leading into the keep. Turning round and raising her hand, she gave a quick flick to the right, indicating that her men muster in the space between the walls. They were few, only those Lakyus deemed unfit - either by madness or mazement - to fight. Consisting of four levy, five professionals, and one of her knights, it constituted a significant lack of force. She had scattered the rest around the tower of fire, ordering them to specific junctions, holding positions likely to come under attack - though, in the queer fashion of events this night, this seemed less than likely.

    I don¡¯t understand why the enemy isn¡¯t advancing. There¡¯s a city for the taking.

    Her ingression into the flame was quick, only enough to catch a glimpse of the demons before retreating. They did not follow, not even to the extent of plucking away her errant bondsmen, fiends seeming content to beat the bounds and nothing more. The violence that was, is, and would not be mindless was a strange admission of scheme on the part of her enemy; demons were wont to merrymake and slaughter without care, and to instead insist on staking out a portion of a city and turning it into an abattoir was a different sort of behavior altogether. Lakyus found no sense in it, but was sure of it to be some dark cause, and that alone was enough to scare her. The one magician - not given over to cowardice, but instead brought for the purpose of communication - broke from the ranks, intending to follow Lakyus into the keep. She held a halting hand, half turning back as she walked.

    ¡°Make sure they get fed - bread at the least - and try to get them in order. If any are fit for service after, send them out, and notify their squads of their coming.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what word I have with the commissary.¡±

    ¡°Say it¡¯s on the princess¡¯s order.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll issue it.¡±

    Probably order them broth too.

    Turning on her heel, she followed Recanthort, who had already made it to the entrance where he was now waiting. Ro-Lante¡¯s main keep was not in its inner space; rather, it was built into its inner wall, which she now entered. Bidding her in, he broke ahead, leading her up a spiral staircase that branched off the room immediately inside. She followed, dimming her crown to better make out the way. Thin slits dotted the ascent, the red glow of each catching the knight¡¯s armor in front of her. They went up a flight then slipped through a winding doubleback sentineled by another knight to arrive at a second spiral, where they went up a flight again. At the top, they were met with yet more knights, a pair startling as Recanthort and Lakyus approached. He stuttered something out.

    ¡°We¡¯re to see her Highness.¡±

    Neither made any further impediment, and Lakyus approached the chamber door they guarded. As she reached out, it burst open, two footmen scurrying out as she swiftly stepped off to the side. Grabbing the door as it swung, she held it open, coming round it to walk within. Two dozen sets of eyes snapped in her direction: the palace military men set about a map; a cleric and wizard alongside; two haggard-looking representatives of the great six; a librarian with dark bestiaries spread before him; the lords previously present for the action against Eight Fingers; Lord Raeven himself for the same; that second prince who had proven so fruitful an ally; that princess who seemed ever more stalwart by the hour. Lakyus called out immediately, interrupting any reactions to her entrance.

    ¡°Renner-¡±

    ¡°Anything and everything. I¡¯ll wrench what I can from my siblings and my father.¡±

    The matter of support settled before she could utter a second word, Lakyus moved onto specifics.

    ¡°The Adventurers-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already sent a runner.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to open your coffers.¡±

    ¡°Emptied and scraped. I¡¯ve put up the sum of my metal for the cause - some jewelry to sweeten it.¡±

    ¡°The Magicians-¡±

    ¡°Settled just the same. As goes for the churches, and all the houses major and minor that dwell here. We looted the palace professionals for the footmen. Lakyus, be it true that our enemies are fiends?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    The room hushed - the military men having already been silent - catching up to Lakyus¡¯s account. Baron Wager was the first to speak up.

    ¡°Fiends, as in-¡±

    ¡°The full and proper reckoning of the word.¡±

    Renner cut off his question without turning to look at him, her eyes focused solely on Lakyus. Her interrupt emphasized its last word, beckoning Lakyus to confirm her suspicion.

    ¡°Yes, demons full.¡±

    At this, the room exploded.

    ¡°Demons full?! How have things such as that crawled-¡±

    ¡°Shore the defenses immediately.¡±

    ¡°My Lord Benra, there is no time for-¡±

    ¡°Whom do we have ready for action?¡±

    ¡°-debate on the point of-¡±

    ¡°The forces are there on the grid!¡±

    ¡°The grid?! Who''s to say who''s been annihilated, already dragged down into the earth!¡±

    Renner gave a somewhat exasperated expression, tuning her voice a bit shriller to cut through the noise.

    ¡°And that foremost among them is, named as Evileye has spoken, a being greater than those Evil Deities of two hundred years prior?¡±

    ¡°Jaldabaoth? I am afraid so.¡±

    I was not there, but she would not be dazed on that point.

    The noise rose to a proper din, words giving way to shouts, proclamations of shock, and a hanging air of doom that nobody seemed to know quite what to do with.

    ¡°Evil Deities? The Demon Gods?!¡±

    ¡°Of whom else would she speak?!¡±

    ¡°Lakyus-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible! They and those things like them were slain in the days of King Andrean!¡±

    ¡°A return though-¡±

    ¡°Return from where?! Were they not destroyed?¡±

    ¡°Banished.¡±

    ¡°-Lakyus-¡±

    ¡°And so they crawl in the underworld just as before?!¡±

    At this last interruption, Renner gave up, instead breaking from her spot, giving an inaudible dismissal to her brother and the marquis. As she jaunted round the edge of the table - upon which was set the battlemap subject to the manipulations of Defense Coordinator Helgrave and Knight Marshal Lazzak - Lakyus mirrored her, commanding her floating blades to find a resting place on a stout weapons rack by the entrance. The pair met and broke away from the main table, slipping away from others and finding space near the wall.

    ¡°Did she make mention of the bug to you?¡±

    What¡¯s this about?

    ¡°The bug?¡±

    ¡°An insect monster of especial hardiness. Of all things, donned in a maid outfit.¡±

    Ah, that.

    The exoticism of certain monsters was something an adventurer learned to accept. That beings the size of a child, in the form of a beautiful woman, or some minute creature more fluff than flesh could be just as deadly - or plausibly, much more so - than some generic horror was a fact that frequently killed those in the learning of it. Adventurers reflected a little of this queerness back, adopting ever more strange methods of combat, garish varieties of gear, and potent quirks to all but alienate them from every other walk of life. Still, a man-eating monster maid was somewhat beyond what Lakyus was typically asked to conceive. The princess¡¯s surprise at this was, of its own, intriguing; not by way of the point¡¯s normality, but by its seeming irrelevance. Her visage was overstill, an aimless expression whose slight curls of the brow and little twitches revealed that it was not the product of an inner deadness, but rather the sum of many extreme emotions coming all at once.

    ¡°She did.¡±

    I wonder why she asked.

    The princess¡¯s troubled look only grew deeper, stuttered breathing seeming to punctuate it. Her question was - to Lakyus - beyond the immediate, though she knew that Renner would not ask such a thing pointlessly. Whatever she was pondering, the verity of Evileye¡¯s statement was critical to it, a lynchpin fact.

    ¡°I¡¯d only ask because it seemed as if Gagaran and Tia were set to be slain by it¡­ before they met their ends anyway. If¡­ and forgive me for my lack of understanding¡­ Gagaran and Tia are only considered ¡®Orihalchum¡¯ in your parlance, and this insect of theirs was able to go blow to blow with Evileye - or even exceed her - before being defeated. Does that not make its commander - who so slew your comrade in a single spell - a foe beyond us?¡±

    ¡°There are those above us.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, but this Momon. I¡­ ah, apologies. I¡¯m deeply away from sense.¡±

    She gave an ashamed nod as recompense, eyes having curled a little further down.

    Climb is out there still. I don¡¯t know if Six Arms was at Dalenoc, though I didn¡¯t see any sign of spell fire - or any other fierce battle for that matter. The alleyway Gazef fought in was filled with whip marks and other scars from that armored knight of theirs. I know the monster sent to Hilma¡¯s manor was strong, but I don¡¯t imagine Six Arms would go down without a protracted fight, even against something like the bug. If they weren¡¯t there, they were likely at their compound, and if Climb had walked into that before the demons came¡­

    Lakyus looked at Renner piteously. Her friend had likely figured and then refigured all this out already. Lakyus felt she could not imagine the depth of Renner¡¯s fear, terror, and sorrow on this point. She had sent him there, and though Lakyus - after questioning it herself - had convinced her of that course¡¯s correctness earlier in the day, it now seemed set to shake out in the worst possible manner. Lakyus faced the hand hanging by her outward, inviting Renner closer with an open palm. The princess gave a weak smile, rejecting the offer for a hug with a weak shake of the head and a silent lip of the words ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± The smile soured, and as it drooped, the princess looked away and wiped her eyes once more, before steeling herself and turning back.

    ¡°The fiends accosted Eight Fingers before us.¡±

    ¡°It seems that way. My manor was emptied of everything but the floorboards.¡±

    ¡°The floorboards? I thought- ah, no, I was given over to a misunderstanding. How far have they pushed out?¡±

    ¡°None at all.¡±

    ¡°I received the same from Belenore, though I didn¡¯t hazard to believe it. In sooth, I haven¡¯t an idea for their action.¡±

    Renner pursed her lips before shooting a glance back to her brother. Zanac, along with the rest of the men, were engaged in some argument that the pair of women had already lost; words drifted over about ¡°The Articles of Constitution,¡± referring to the deeds held by the nobility on land in the capital. Though the lines they shouted at each other were of that arcane sort of speech practiced by the Kingdom¡¯s forefathers two-hundred years prior, she did not find the need to listen and track the specific references, and she blocked out the noise.

    I can guess what they¡¯re fighting about. Zanac wants men for defense around the flame - firefighting efforts too; they want their men on their land, defending their territory. This is only going to get worse when the rest arrive. We have forces, but it¡¯s not enough if we¡¯re to retake the encircled area. I- oh, actually, I need to tell her that.

    ¡°I went to the wall.¡±

    ¡°Verily?¡±

    Renner¡¯s head snapped back, Lakyus tightly nodding. Renner¡¯s eyes seemed to round a little further as her brow sank lower.

    ¡°Of the blaze?¡±

    ¡°It gave no heat;, solid, too thick to see through to the other side-¡±

    ¡°Side?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s thin, half a span at most.¡±

    ¡°You tested this?¡±

    ¡°I stepped through.¡±

    Renner swallowed, eyes shooting wide. Her expression was beginning to crack, her body growing unsteady on her feet as she twitched more and more.

    ¡°What sights?¡±

    ¡°Demons. Many.¡±

    ¡°A force?¡±

    ¡°A large one.¡±

    ¡°How did this happen, Lakyus?¡±

    ¡°Eight Fingers conspired with the olden enemy. That¡¯s the only way to explain this. A ritual. Dark pact. Something. After all, they are Eight Fingers of Divanach-¡±

    ¡°I thought that was just a vanity of criminals who fashioned themselves a secret society!¡±

    ¡°I did too! I- I think they did too. But, I mean, you need only look out a window. Someone got desperate. Someone with access to something dangerous. Eight Fingers has a history that runs right up to that time two-centuries ago. As our forefathers were, so were theirs; in the time of the Witcher, the time of Brog¡¯Drukil. They must have something.¡±

    ¡°The object our foe mentioned?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, or just dark knowledge. The sort of thing worth expunging.¡±

    ¡°Expunging¡­¡±

    For some reason Lakyus could not place, Renner had caught on that word, drawing it out in her typical fashion. The princess stilled for a moment then seemed to dismiss whatever she was thinking about with a blink and a nod.

    ¡°The flame, it¡¯s centered in the warehouse district.¡±

    ¡°Yes; as far as I can tell, right in the middle of Geyda square, out to a distance of maybe a hundred and fifty paces - three hundred across. It encompasses some stretches across the Southflow into Laroque and just barely swallows the easternmost bridge between there and Utreno.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°All the warehouses are on the south bank, so they¡¯re within- do they think they meant to lure us away from their objective?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Gagaran¡¯s target would have been in the flame, Tia¡¯s not too far away. If they had gone and slaughtered those places, they, as per their orders, would have traveled off to Manor Cygnaeus. Assuming a schedule to raise the flame at the time they did, that would give them time to empty out the storehouses, and¡­ and whatever other dark purposes they intended to effect. The insect was slippage. Perhaps our two friends merely beat our foe to their objective, and paid the price for their haste. Lakyus, did you have thoughts?¡±

    Lakyus blinked, the impracticality of Renner¡¯s suggestion coming a moment later.

    ¡°They would have needed to monitor us. The palace has divination defense, and Evileye has always been somewhat paranoid on this point, as have I and the twins. And, besides, does that fit a desperate gambit on the part of our enemy?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Demons need a breakpoint, a mage circle, or the like. What you¡¯re suggesting would require-¡±

    ¡°Forethought from those creatures. All correct. I cede.¡±

    Though she says that, it doesn¡¯t seem sincere.

    ¡°Renner, why ¡®creature¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Er¡­ I suppose that it is a little wrong. I admit I loathe to utter that word which you have been using, lest I summon forth the gaze of a wicked eye anew.¡±

    ¡°Our enemies are demons, Renner. Speak of them with the word ¡®demon¡¯, and make no alterations to the term ¡®demon¡¯. This goes further for Jaldabaoth. Names are power to them, and they have no ability to enter this world and then lie about their names within it. By squeaming around them, you do what they desire.¡±

    ¡°Right. Apologies. All correct again. ¡®Demon¡¯ it is.¡±

    Renner¡¯s emphasis on the word still seemed to hint at a lack of understanding, but Lakyus felt no time to make further mention of the point. She opened her mouth to continue, but her words were cut off by a yelling to her fore.

    ¡°Sister! Sister!¡±

    Renner pirouetted, and along with Lakyus behind her, set off toward Zanac. They both worked their way to the far part of the room, the pair stepping alongside their exasperated opposites, both the prince and the count red in the face. Zanac moved first, snapping to Renner.

    ¡°Talk some sense into Raeven, I can¡¯t convince him to commit to the fire defense-¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re magical flames, my Prince! Dump a bucket of water on them and it¡¯s half liable to freeze!¡±

    ¡°The blaze needs quenching though!¡±

    ¡°That pillar? Luck of the Greed Kings to that! It¡¯s better to let individual lords handle the fire defense for their areas, and scramble the palace professionals to cover the crown-land gap-¡±

    ¡°Our men number- Agh, Chardelon, say something.¡±

    ¡°The flames are a trick, an illusion.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Lakyus gave a sidelong swing of the head, before taking on the burden of explanation from Renner.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it that way, but close, your Highness. They make no heat, and do not burn. It¡¯s likely the border of some unholy magic.¡±

    ¡°Like what? An imprisoning flame, or-¡±

    ¡°A range spell.¡±

    ¡°Range spell, Elias?¡±

    ¡°Er, an area that is given over to some power of bolstering or something such.¡±

    ¡°Ah, and in this case it would be for demons?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Or it could be a summoning circle.¡±

    Such terrifying words escaped Renner¡¯s lips. Lakyus turned in shock, the marquis and the prince doing the same. The horrible images that sprouted from the princess felt completely at odds with her demure image, the gentle way she expressed them making their contents more appalling, not less.

    ¡°Are you suggesting-¡±

    Could such a thing be possible? Jaldabaoth is a greater force than the Demon Gods, but if he is only a herald¡­

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not, brother. I merely find myself given over to ruin. Lakyus, what of the people?¡±

    Lakyus was caught wrongfooted by the sudden question, still spiraling from her words prior.

    ¡°Inside?¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    That can¡¯t be possible. Evil beings that exceed the Demon Gods cannot themselves be exceeded by things worse than them. Only the true Gods of mankind can claim such, and they are only with the forces of goodness.

    ¡°I only was in-¡±

    ¡°-You were in?!-¡±

    ¡°My prince, hush.¡±

    ¡°I was only in for a short time, but what I saw... Some killing by the demons inside, but more taking. Dragged people inward-¡±

    As the words escaped her mouth, the sense of Renner¡¯s point stuck her. She struggled to keep standing.

    ¡°-To a dark purpose.¡±

    Mass¡­ Gods above.

    ¡°I have only suspicion, but to dismiss it outright¡­¡±

    ¡°What- what are you two saying?¡±

    ¡°I second the Marquis! Chardelon, what is this?¡±

    ¡°Death.¡±

    Sacrifice.

    ¡°Mass death for cause, my Prince.¡±

    I can picture it, those thousands. What would they¡­ do to them? What is he scheming? They¡¯re there now, just as we are here. Gods, storehousing is there, but there are just as many domiciles.

    ¡°What cause?!¡±

    ¡°Tearing the breach between our place and the netherrealms a little wider.¡±

    Renner¡¯s words seemed to send the prince over the end, Zanac collapsing back into his chair.

    ¡°Gods above!¡±

    Plain, simple sacrifice. How many thousands dwell within that flame? How many circles can be drawn from that blood? New breakpoints, new holes through which to reach. More of the great enemy in this world.

    ¡°Is that possible?¡±

    It took Lakyus to realize the words had been directed at her, Raeven¡¯s face having turned clammy white.

    ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°We need to push immediately. Gather the forces of houses near under the Black Clause of the Articles and swiftly-¡±

    ¡°My Princess, a charge now would be unorganized, and would result only in death and the shredding of our fighting force.¡±

    ¡°I concur, my Lord. They would be fodder at best, and in their dying, only thicken the air with their anguish. Impurity that, even when we drive back down the demons, would stay and harang this place to the end of its days with the living dead. Renner, it wouldn¡¯t work.¡±

    The princess held still, before wordlessly nodding; Lakyus found the sight as painful as it had been before. She turned her gaze to Raeven and continued.

    ¡°My lord-¡±

    ¡°I have no need for pleasantries tonight, Lady Aindra.¡±

    ¡°Aye, the same.¡±

    Renner again nodded, all three of her comrades ceding protocol. Lakyus rushed on.

    ¡°Right. Well, then, Elias, scatter your forces about all the city junctions.¡±

    ¡°What? Why not all the way up?¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t pushing out yet, and if we layer ¡®round the flame line after line of men, they may simply appear behind us.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. She¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°I see, then the rest of the lords? You still intend to order the Black Clause.¡±

    ¡°¡®We¡¯ as in House Vaiself, but if- if we aren¡¯t doing an imminent drill, then there¡¯s no need to invoke such a strong line in our articles. It¡¯s strange¡­ that provision was written specifically for this situation. A way to force the hands of all those present to a kinetic response, and yet using it seems as impossible as cramming the dawn sun back under the horizon. Disconcerting.¡±

    ¡°Agreed, sister. It¡¯s a bitter truth to-¡±

    A bang interrupted him and was promptly followed by the pitter patter of several footsteps. Lakyus turned, seeing none other than the first prince enter, along with several Knight-Officers. Whatever start he had given the group by throwing open the door he received twofold, his face slacking open as he saw both Zanac and Renner.

    ¡°Igana, Chardelon- what- what are you already doing here?!¡±

    I¡¯ve known bastards better than you.

    Lakyus stiffened. That Barbro would show up was something she felt deleterious to the methods of battle. The booming timbre of his voice seemed to have a similar effect on both Zanac and Raeven, the pair righting themselves fully. Renner was the opposite, silently grabbing Lakyus¡¯s arm, jittering as she turned to face her brother and answer his question.

    ¡°Eh? We had lent the space previously for-¡±

    ¡°Crushing the rats of this kingdom underfoot. It¡¯s black coincidence, Ield, that we would be needed here tonight anyway.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°The war against Eight Fingers, my Prince. I, Lady Aindra and her band, and the rest of us had already rallied-¡±

    ¡°I knew that! I saw you muster from the window, but this-¡±

    ¡°Father gave us the approval to use this space.¡±

    The first prince gave an exasperated wave of the hand, moving deeper into the room along with his retinue, with the door closing behind him. Looking directly at Renner, a current of venom ran through his next words.

    ¡°And you, invested in martial matters?¡±

    ¡°I admit I¡¯m an interloper, but-¡±

    Damn you. Why do you have to be here? You¡¯re already responsible for a great many crimes against the people of this country, and now you choose to show yourself at precisely the time to ruin its survival?

    ¡°She¡¯s vital, she stays.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s words were curt and cool, beckoning no rebuttal. Barbro gave one anyway.

    ¡°It¡¯s inappropriate for her to be in this chamber.¡±

    ¡°Brother, our sister is not a nitwit. She is, at the very least, Lord Raeven¡¯s equal in matters of adventurer-kind. She¡¯s fronting everything she has to this cause-¡±

    ¡°She is?¡±

    ¡°Yes! And I have dug deep into my pockets as well. No matter. Have at it.¡±

    ¡°Right- right. Father will be down soon. He¡¯s given me command for this matter of the flaming pillar. Sir Helgrave-¡±

    "Your Highness."

    ¡°What are we facing? Some rogue circle of wizards, or-¡±

    ¡°An invasion.¡±

    Barbro¡¯s face froze, the only exception being his eyes, which began to dart between the faces of all in the room once more. Renner¡¯s grip tightened, her friend subtly leaning closer.

    ¡°Whom? If this is some work of that damned Paradyne-¡±

    ¡°The netherrealms, headed by an Archfiend, Jaldabaoth. ¡°

    ¡°That can¡¯t be possible!¡±

    Are you a feeblemind? Have you not looked outside?!

    ¡°He¡¯s already slain two of my women. My patience on this point-¡±

    Renner¡¯s nails began to dig into Lakyus¡¯s skin, the pain snapping her from her budding tirade. She swallowed. Barbro was loathsome; a traitor to his nation, betrayer of his house, and would-be murderer of his sister. He was also the crown prince. Lakyus cooled her words.

    ¡°-Has¡­ been strained by the events of the evening thus far. That pillar of flame is the borders to their lodgement. It¡¯s merely a wall, beyond which they¡¯ve set themselves to defend. They¡¯re taking the citizens beyond it; to what purpose, I do not know.¡±

    He looked at her for a time, brimming with visible anxiety, before shifting his gaze to Zanac.

    ¡°Brother?¡±

    ¡°This is history we¡¯re living, Ield.¡±

    Barbro looked down and off to the side, visage shaking, furtively balling and unballing his fists. Twitching, he looked to the map, before breaking from his trance with the hint of a nod.

    ¡°I¡¯m issuing an order for general retreat. Adopt fallback positions at the nearest junction to the flame. I want men on the north-south thoroughfare. Every junction, alleyway, everything. I don¡¯t want anything getting through.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s already been achieved, my Prince.¡±

    Barbro visibly balked at Lakyus¡¯s words.

    ¡°What? What forces do we have in play?¡±

    ¡°Shy of six-score, my Prince. I have my men on the cross between Laroque and Felthra, and the rest circumventing it around the edges of Utreno, Getha, Windlon, Silfrip, and Ro-Sulethor.¡±

    ¡°What about Vaimark?¡±

    ¡°No confirmation has reached me yet, but I believe my comrade Tia left her squad there.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Right. Helgrave.¡±

    ¡°We were in ready condition already, my Prince. Our standing knights and professionals were already bolstered beyond the nightwatch. Like Lady Aindra said, the forces in the command of her and her fellows are set in the needed forward positions."

    ¡°And these are your forces, Lord Raeven?¡±

    ¡°I and those aligned.¡±

    ¡°Understood. To the rest of you here, what say you of joining with your independent kin and supporting the effort directly?¡±

    The room went silent for a brief instant, before an impetuous Renner spoke out to quell the coming crisis.

    ¡°Brother-dearest, come-round. Some points bear discussing.¡±

    Barbro was broken of his spell, gave a stout nod, and came round. Lakyus caught audible exhales from a few, the lot feeling the evening had almost been blown open. He approached and waved off Raeven and Lakyus, the former of whom stepped away without a fuss and made to his representative in Valencia. Lakyus, however, remained still.

    ¡°Lady Aindra, you don¡¯t make to move?¡±

    I¡¯m not leaving her with you. Godsdammed murderer.

    Lakyus found herself wholly unable to respond, words lodged in her mouth. His presence was a frustration. Tonight, the world seemed closer to ending than it had since the time of the Kingdom¡¯s founding, and she had to spend what time existed between now and an uncertain next dawn in league with the worst criminal her country had known yet. Graciously, Renner picked up where she could not.

    ¡°She is not here as a representative of House Aindra, brother. She¡¯ll make no infringement upon our confidence.¡±

    ¡°I-I second her recommendation. I must say, these past twelve hours have given me a taste for adventurers.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine. I don¡¯t understand your hesitations. Why not invoke the Articles?¡±

    Houses, major or minor, were in the interest of defending their territory alone. Barbro¡¯s suggestion, akin to Renner¡¯s in her previous mad spew, would be to compel them into service under a two century-old compact. Though, in the immediate, it would swell those forces available for the defense, if those of goodness managed to secure a victory, the resulting strain would result in the worst challenge to the monarchy yet to come. Renner had fallen earlier to that same breed of full-bore sword-and-board vehemence that Barbro was now, but she had not shouted that to the room.

    ¡°I¡¯d hazard that not in the best interests of our house.¡±

    ¡°Chardelon is correct. A defense like that would be ill advised.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°The nobility never wishes to be forced, not to mention the Six.¡±

    It¡¯s outrageous. Re-Estize is a city of nearly a hundred thousand, and they wouldn¡¯t defend it? Yes, they have their patches, but to not join the rest of us... Do they think nothing? Let their fear and self-interest bind them? I wouldn¡¯t be able to stand it. Seeing what happened in the littlest nooks of our demesne. But they just sit and watch, staring dumbly at the flame. It¡¯s not just outrageous, it¡¯s criminal.

    ¡°What of Raeven, what of the daughter Aindra here?¡±

    ¡°Elias was already involved. He can¡¯t withdraw now.¡±

    Barbro huffed, turning to Lakyus with a sardonic look in his eye.

    ¡°And you? Don¡¯t you have something to say for yourself?¡±

    I¡­ I need to say something. What? I have no idea. Just, stall, try and¡­ find something.

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s merely standing by me, brother. And it¡¯s no matter. To the topic at hand, we do this ourselves-¡±

    How does she manage to speak to him? I don¡¯t understand it.

    ¡°-It will be a major victory - not just for the Royal Faction - but for House Vaiself.¡±

    ¡°Mm, I wouldn¡¯t put it in such cold terms, Igana, but something to that effect. Ah, brother-dearest, a point.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I hazard the wisest choice to be you staying and commanding  from this war room, and keeping your forces here.¡±

    The conversation paused briefly, with both Zanac and Lakyus giving Renner a look. Barbro seemed caught wrongfooted, so thrown off by the words that he issued a stuttered question.

    ¡°You believe so? W-why?¡±

    ¡°Yes. With the lack of support from houses major, I chance that the common way of thinking here would be to deploy your forces along with the rest to make up for the gap. But I believe that to be a mistake. If retribution comes for our counter-assault, a ¡®counter-counter¡¯, if you will, it will come here. I have no doubt in the ability of our sentries¡­ though, well¡­¡±

    What is she doing?

    ¡°You want me here to protect the palace?¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Lakyus mouth fell just a little open, the faintest tinge of summer air seeping in to tinge her teeth. Renner¡¯s deception hadn¡¯t been simply convincing, it had been flawless. She recited it over again in her mind, for a brief moment wondering if Renner had been struck a blow to the head and merely forgotten the affairs of the Black Night. The only sign that this was not the truth besides her memory was a gentle squeeze of her forearm, she still in the grip of the princess. She slipped back into speech.

    ¡°Besides, the thought of anything happening to you in the city¡­ I don¡¯t know how I would react.¡±

    How can she stand to say that? I don¡¯t understand what this is about.

    ¡°So¡­ so goes the tide of battle, Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°Though perhaps not even that is enough. Brother-dearest, would you commit the whole of your efforts to defending Valencia and Ro-Lante?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    What? Is she trying to eliminate him from the defense all together?

    The entire conversation clicked for Lakyus. Renner was being methodical, gently placing a lead over her brother¡¯s head and now making to tug it.

    She¡¯s already decided he¡¯ll be a detriment to the battle. She wants him out of the way. All this is designed to get him to stand aside, and think better of it.

    ¡°The enemy may slip from the black counting ten-fold any previous knowledge, and if your attentions are divided¡­¡±

    Zanac seemed to catch on too, pressing in his own way/

    ¡°Defend the crown, brother. Defend the throne. Defend this place that has stood with our house for two hundred years.¡±

    ¡°As Igana said. There is no one who may look down on you for that!¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ right, I think I will.¡±

    In a sight she wished never to see again, Barbro cracked a smile. Suddenly came a great whistling, sharply rising behind Lakyus, who snapped around just in time for it to break into a sound akin to a thousand metal drums being struck at once. Green unlight bathed the space, the air turning thick and disgorging Evileye with a thin hiss.

    ¡°So it¡¯s a two-hundred and forty pace spell¡­ two-hundred forty-¡±

    ¡°What is that?!¡±

    ¡°A demon?!¡±

    ¡°I wonder¡­ something of the seventh? Or perhaps eighth? That which was recovered the last time would suggest otherwise.¡±

    Evileye seemed not to have taken notice of anyone, continuing her mutters while rubbing the forefingers of her dexter hand together.

    ¡°No, you two. That¡¯s Aindra¡¯s witch.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡±

    Evileye ignored the commentary, insteading raising her hand and issuing a spell after the other, throwing a sequence of glowing runes out into the air - at one point holding her finger straight up and watching a shower of red sparks sprout from it.

    ¡°The edges around that cast, they¡¯re ideal. Perfect arcane construction¡­ like the spells of that condensate golem in Feoh-Burkana.¡±

    ¡°Evileye.¡±

    ¡°Perfect construction¡­ Hm? Ah- Lakyus! Yes, sorry, what is it?¡±

    ¡°What happened out there?¡±

    ¡°Nothing I haven¡¯t told.¡±

    ¡°You hadn¡¯t given me difficulty-¡±

    ¡°Right, that. The maid demon was difficulty rating one-fifty, at best. Had its master not shown up, I would have killed it with Vermin Bane. Jaldabaoth was higher.¡±

    ¡°How high?¡±

    ¡°I- I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Guess.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure! I- He cast a spell, something I hadn¡¯t seen before. Well, multiple, but this one... It was an anti-teleportation abjuration, one I know doesn¡¯t exist at the fifth tier.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Counter-spells are fickle; the meta-transform of a spell¡¯s pseudomorphologic-dynamo is always a more complex structure-¡±

    ¡°It would have needed to be a higher tier.¡±

    ¡°Eighth, I think. A greater teleportation spell exists in the seventh. I know that. I was able to imitate that at a lower tier. But the information I got from that gave no indication of an abjuration that existed below, or at that geometry. I believe he¡¯s at least an eighth tier spellcaster.¡±

    The dialogists froze for a second time; Barbro with mouth wholly agape, Lakyus and Zanac given over to some kind of terror, and Renner to mania - she bursting into a wholly inappropriate laughter before suppressing it a moment later. Somehow, Lakyus found the strength to talk.

    ¡°Of Tia and Gagaran.¡±

    ¡°We have their bodies. They took a few blows during the fight with the insect, but the flames thrown at them by Jaldabaoth left no mark. Some kind of unnatural heat.¡±

    ¡°I see, and they¡¯re with-¡±

    ¡°One of Raeven¡¯s wizards, I believe, or someone he hired. Should be here soon.¡±

    ¡°Right. Renner.¡±

    Her friend snapped her eyes up from the ground, a wild look of surprise akin to an apprentice suddenly called on.

    ¡°Eh?¡±

    ¡°Hold. That is a much too informal a tone for my sister.¡±

    ¡°Ield, it was by my request.¡±

    ¡°The same from me, brother.¡±

    ¡°And mine as well, your Highness.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡±

    ¡°Renner, I need you to send someone trustworthy to our warehouse to retrieve something.¡±

    ¡°What? Some radiant weapon?¡±

    ¡°When we ask that He of the Dust and Diamond give back to us one who has passed on, we must provide Him with that latter aspect of himself in exchange.¡±

    ¡°A diamond?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°R-right¡­ right. Igana- well, I suppose the both of you, who strictly was Sir Brendel¡¯s replacement?

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have one yet.¡±

    ¡°H-how Igana has it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that matter was never resolved, was it? Well, then. Well, it¡¯s a tad improper, but I¡¯m sure we can send Jelka.¡±

    Lakyus cocked her head slightly.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t he resign?¡±

    ¡°From the position of defense coordinator. Father refuses to release him from anything else, however¡­ Ah, this is much too severe. A spellcaster more mighty and terrible than anything our kind has ever dreamed. Pray tell, what do we do now?¡±

    ¡°Lord Momon will save us. He will.¡±

    ¡­Lord? I thought he was a commoner.

    ¡°You¡¯re so sure?¡±

    ¡°I am!¡±

    ¡°I suppose he did have that eighth tier sealing crystal he unleashed on that-¡±

    ¡°No! Nothing of the sort. I have no reason to believe that here. I¡¯ve never seen swordplay like- like- Lord¡­ Mister Momon has skill with the blade unlike anything I¡¯ve seen.¡±

    Mister? So, he¡¯s a commoner after all?

    An odd streak of passion ran in Evileye¡¯s voice, one Lakyus had never before heard. It was strange to say, for Evileye¡¯s voice was always that of a mature child, but here she sounded downright young.

    ¡°Verily? In excess of the Warrior-Captain?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Still, are swords much use against spells? At this juncture, it seems the world will be alway lit crimson.¡±

    Evileye¡¯s rejection was of double the ferocity Lakyus had expected.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain beyond a doubt! Lord Momon fought evenly, fending off the demon and- and driving him back!¡±

    ¡°Eh? I apologize, I did not mean to lay claim to a superior knowledge of adventure-craft to you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s- it¡¯s fine.¡±

    That¡¯s what this is, it¡¯s infatuation. She- she¡¯s infatuated with Momon!

    Lakyus went positively wide eyed, and before she could help it, her mouth had crept up in awe. Evileye noticed.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    You¡¯re in love! That¡¯s what-

    ¡°Lakyus, why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    That¡¯s proper embarrassment too!

    Even in the worst moments, when the world seemed soon to be torn apart by foul powers, when monsters had stepped straight from nightmares and into the bright dark of night, when the chance of a sunrise the next morning was scant to none, the Gods found not only opportunities for light and goodness, but for humor. Lakyus¡¯s curl turned into a warm smile.

    ¡°Nothing. When is Lord Momon arriving?¡±

    ¡°He should be here about now. I was just jumping ahead¡­ Oh, and speaking of arrivals.¡±

    Evileye dropped her statement, a few seconds passing without event. Then, on the eve of confusion, the door to the room opened once more. Lakyus turned, seeing that white armor and blond hair she thought surely to have been lost to the night.

    ¡°C-Climb! Y-you¡¯re-¡±

    For the briefest of moments, Renner seemed to hitch.

    ¡°You¡¯re alright!¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (26)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

    The drenched, lipid air of late-summer nights never felt quite right to Renner. She took in a steady pull, chafing the inside of her nostrils - the air neither quite warm or cool. With a slow exhale, she found that none of her stress had left her.

    Well, that was truly useless.

    ¡°Are you-¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    Lakyus shot her eyes from the princess to the Warrior Captain, and he understood the silent command immediately. He continued his stride to the door - he, the Blue Roses, and Guild Mistress Gilre having stopped at Renner¡¯s bid so she could fight off a growing nausea. A second later, it was thrown open, all five slipping out into a hall. It was a first floor ballroom, one of the ancillary spaces designed to contain crowd overflow, a space to shunt all the lesser barons and scions when the prestigious places were packed. Tonight, it was filled not with Re-Estize¡¯s noble backwash, but with the very finest - and fastest - of its monster slayers. Renner found the contrast odd: a crisis that at once threatened to shake loose mankind¡¯s wordly moorings and send all spiraling into an abyss of eternal suffering was not enough of one to break the highblooded habit of snubbing one¡¯s subjects. The irony in this came from the fact that, to those attendant adventurers, far and away from being an insult, the invite into Valencia was an unexpected - and indistinguishable - honor.

    Recount. The three survivors of the Blue Roses; the twin heroes of the east; their lesser ilk numbering six - perhaps seven - score; forty or fifty guild mages; roughly the same from the church; an impetuous bladesman who has quite suddenly sworn himself to service; and my knight. This, against our- no, my vermillion nightmare.

    The entrance of Renner and her fellows jolted many in the room to their feet; among those already standing was Climb, who broke from his station at the side of the door to pick up a large roll of parchment. Pinching an end and tilting it such that it unfurled in a controlled fashion into his other hand, he brought it above his head and pressed it against the wall, a streak of paste having already been applied. Climb made quick work of the rest, drawing and pressing the parchment down out to its full length. It was an oversized map of the city nicked from Ro-Lante¡¯s strategy room, already marked with a number of symbols, foremost of which was a large red ring around its northeast portion. Given that it was overlarge - and thus, cumbersome to maintain - its accuracy was dubious; dating back, by Renner¡¯s count, three or four decades, it had a number of minor flaws as the city spat and swallowed buildings, though it was fit enough for tonight¡¯s purpose. A wave of murmured analysis came over the room, the eyes of over a hundred individuals setting upon the map. Renner mirrored this, though in the opposite direction; she flicked her eyes through the crowd, giving heed not to disposition or equipment, but to the small metal plates that hung round every neck. For every green or purple sheen, there were dozens of dull iron or copper fetishes that caught the bright magelights above.

    Pray tell, is such a motley force enough? They are better suited to fighting foul things than the men of the palace, or of the city, but such disunion. Yes, many are competent - silvers, golds, and so forth; yes, some are strong - mythril, orichalcum; yes, few are mighty - my companions, and that pair of repute which lurks¡­ right there in the back.

    Renner¡¯s eyes narrowed. She had figured that the crowd would be so diverse that relying on the measure of queerness that members of fine society used to identify adventures would be useless. In a place where everyone in some way feathered themselves, Renner had no hope of distinguishing between them. She now saw that this fear had been apparently incorrect. The warrior and wizard of Darkness seemed to pop right from the scene; a combination of their physical heterogeneity, stoic attitude, and striking equipment.

    That¡¯s them. The twin heroes of E-Rantel twiceover; shame I must meet them here. Mighty, yes - who can guess how heavy that armor is - though I still fear for the same reasons. What doth the dutiful do when draped in separate colors? Figuratively, yes, but quite literally as well. I do not spy one band, I spy thirty. Perhaps this means a flexibility on our part that will allow us unparalleled battlefield flexibility and dynamism; perhaps I¡¯ll have a dozen teams suicide in sequence. Who¡¯s to say? Ah, I have no earthly idea what I¡¯m doing.

    Renner, for the umpteenth time this evening, resisted the urge to throw up her hands and laugh. Thankfully, she would not need to move first, as Gilre was handling the room¡¯s wrangling. She stepped forward and began.

    ¡°My fellow adventurers, to start, I give my gratitude for attending this emergency congress.¡±

    The Guildmistress paused while the noise died, party members swiftly shushing each other to catch the words being spoken.

    ¡°Normally, the Adventurers Guild leaves issues of nation to nation and kingdom to kingdom; however, the events of the last three hours are an exception to that principle. We, the Guild, have decided to fully cooperate with the request of House Vaiself, and to aid and assist them, their fellows, and those duly appointed by them in order to resolve this crisis as quickly as possible. Her Highness, the Third Princess Renner will relate the details to us, so I pray you be quiet and listen.¡±

    Turning back with an open hand, Gilre drew Renner out from the wall.

    I¡¯ll need to be quick. I have no desire to throw temperamental wills to fight against a plodding speech.

    ¡°I am The Third Princess of Re-Estize, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself, and I am deeply grateful to those here for responding to our extraordinary summons so deep into the evening.¡±

    Renner fell into a bow, then, rode up the subsequent wave of gasps and emitted breaths. She opened her mouth, and in annoyance, found she had forgotten the words she had drilled in her mind for the last hour.

    Something concise? ¡°Any thanks I could give are underwrought¡± or, perhaps- Ah, pitch the lot. There¡¯s no time for it anyway. Move directly to information. Start with the pyre, then ease into the cause.

    ¡°Normally, I would render more fully that praise which you all are due, but time is not something we have in excess, so forgive me for skipping such pleasantries. Earlier tonight, a portion of the city of Re-Estize-¡±

    She raised her arm, extending a finger to trace the outlined circle on the map at a distance.

    ¡°-was encircled by a wall of flame. This blaze stands nearly twenty paces high or nearabouts your own judgments - which you have most certainly made. It ought to be an illusion of sorts; this, by way of its seeming impotence. According to the accounts of those who have gone near it and or touched it, it is heatless, functioning neither to harm nor impede. Advancing through the wall also seems to pose no risks.¡±

    The rapid flicking of her eyes did not stop, now not from plate to plate, but face to face. Attentive gazes, unconscious nods, and best yet, hushed discussion in the wake of a particular detail at once made Renner¡¯s fears seem silly. There was no threat of her words shattering morale.

    I thought it was perhaps wishful to hope for such stalwart dispositions, but¡­ well, of course; they¡¯re adventurers. That same kind of violent itch that¡­ oh, say, Gagaran had. I can press the harder topics.

    ¡°The enemy responsible for this assault is a dread demon, a being of extreme power and viciousness by the name of Jaldabaoth. The Blue Roses have already confirmed that there are lowly fiends on the other side of the blaze. They, as per what scouting we have performed, seem to be acting in organized fashion, indicating they are operating under a hierarchy of command.¡±

    ¡°Seems basic enough, lop off the head and the body dies. Shouldn¡¯t we just rush down this Jaldabaoth and vanquish him?¡±

    The man who spoke was in one of the nearer clumps, donned in studded leathers, with a mythril plate hanging from his neck.

    Interruptions here are to be cherished, a warning of misconceptions shoring up in their minds. I can segway from that.

    ¡°That¡¯s perhaps reductive; a beheading blow would shatter, but not scatter them. To that, demons are not wont to adopt organization without objective. You must not only halt him, but his plot as well. To our understanding, Jaldabaoth is here to seize an object of power that is either coming to the capital, or is here already.¡±

    ¡°How- how did you learn this?¡±

    ¡°He spoke it himself.¡±

    The man scoffed, but before he could continue, a woman deeper into the crowd - dressed in linen and crowned in flowers - piped up.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t you think there¡¯s a high chance that information could be false?¡±

    Eh? Isn¡¯t that a bit daft to ask? I¡¯ve been reckless. Leaving even the most basic topics unstated will lose members of this crowd. Ah, I ought to work through this point in detail.

    ¡°Certainly! A lie from a demon? Their entire assault and given cause thus far may just be massive feint. That said, to speak treachery is one thing, acting adverse is another matter altogether. The enemy has still yet to advance from their lodgement, and if we waver and shuffle ere that uncertain advance, we cowardly many will watch, stagnant, as the people of the warrens are slaughtered. Come dawn on the fifth, we will sit sidelong knowing thousands of our countrymen were not here to witness it. That is unacceptable. We must strike first.¡±

    Renner finished, and for a brief instant, silence reigned; in odd fashion, she could feel it. The entire room was looking at her, wordlessly. Her words were being heeded, wholly, by hundreds. A sensation crept into her mind, an electricity, a swelling of the self. Her breath caught. No speech of hers had ever felt like this; no cocked heads, looks of derisions, nor halfwrought smiles. It shattered a moment later, a wizened man near the front tapping his staff against the ground twice before speaking.

    ¡°That fiend, Jaldabaoth, what of his strength? I¡¯ve heard no lore of him. Perhaps you have a difficulty rating?¡±

    Renner paused, finding herself again wanting for things to say. Her mind could not make sense of what was happening; how, somehow, in the deepest nook of a disastrous night, that darkest time in living memory, when cataclysm came knocking for the world of men, she had found a mote of satisfaction. It was unbecoming. Mind stopped dead, she absently decided to let Lakyus answer, swinging out a wave of the hand to her, who gave a nod in acknowledgement.

    This is for the best. I can¡¯t speak to monster metrics anyway.

    ¡°My colleague Evileye is the most familiar of us with him, though specific points elude us. We¡¯ll tell you more when we can, however, as the leader of my party, I¡¯ll speak what I know. My comrades encountered some half-hewn, man eating abomination - part insect, part maid - presumably in the service of Jaldabaoth.¡±

    Well, whatever emotions are striking me, she¡¯s clearly scared. Not too hard to tell this time; the way she¡¯s drawing things out with descriptors, complex sentence construction. She¡¯s escaping into verbiage like all those of noblestock learn to do. For the love of all things dear, Alvein, hold fast.

    ¡°They engaged it and after a long fight, defeated it, only for Jaldabaoth to appear at the moment of victory. He- he slew them-¡±

    ¡°In a single blow.¡±

    The room erupted in a furor as people degenerated into loud talk. All the usual outpourings came: shouts, wails, exclamations, laughs, yelps. Some were stunned to silence, others expressing emotions with steps forward or back. To Renner, the faintest of flinches sufficed. Though she had heard Evileye¡¯s account twice in advance, the lurking detail that the blow had been singular had eluded her.

    An untimely break, though one I don¡¯t believe anyone saw. I should have taken note of that earlier. Damn this! Why did she think to add that?

    Renner shot her gaze to Evileye, boring into the back of her robe. She had, at some point, broke forward, and found herself fit to talk. The sorceress raised her arms a moment later, bellowing out to the room.

    ¡°Do not be afraid! Jaldabaoth is without a doubt powerful. I know this myself, having faced him with all my prowess only to lose. He- it is a monster beyond the capacity of men to defeat-¡±

    Is she mad?! ¡°Beyond the capacity-¡± why- why would she say that?! To rile the crowd is exactly the opposite of what she should be doing.

    ¡°-Even if every one of us here gathered to that end, we would all be trounced-¡±

    Do I drag her off? Or, perhaps have Lakyus do that? No, that would only impede whatever confidence we have so far built. Dammit! What is she doing?!

    ¡°But, there is reason to have hope yet. There is a man who can do battle evenly with Jaldabaoth!¡±

    Renner pulled in a sharp gulp of air, swallowing some inadvertently. Her heart raced, sweat pouring round all the folds of her body. Evileye was blowing things open, speaking exactly the wrong words to keep order. Though she was building to an obvious conclusion, Renner could not hazard why, and she found herself again a victim of nausea.

    I don¡¯t understand this at all! Hyping the Raven Black is one thing, but to so disparage the rest of your comrades? They will be fighting alongside you in battle, you fool! If they lose heart, or succumb to an apathy - a heaviness of stride, we will not claim victory!

    ¡°Rough and hardy-folk, I believe you know this man. From the third Adamantite-ranked adventuring team, recently founded in E-Rantel of the Kingdom¡¯s eastern land- indeed, it is him-¡±

    Evileye, akin to a showwoman, pirouetted on the spot and threw out her arm, at once casting the whole room to one man.

    ¡°The leader of Darkness, the Dark Hero, Sir Momon!¡±

    The room broke into adulation, a great awing swelling from the space. Renner, seeing this, fought back down her anger, instead choosing to join the tenor with a broad smile. Evileye¡¯s blunder seemed to resolve itself, the general attitudes of adventures quick to accept a stronger fellow, and for that knowledge to challenge the cause for fear.

    Must I again revise my understanding of the ¡®venturous spirit? No, the moment hasn¡¯t been soured yet. Most will not be fighting alongside Momon, instead spread about the line. Do tell, Chardelon; are you to stand here and let a fool bungle our survival? Take the lead from her when you can.

    ¡°Quickly, Mister Momon, please come to the front of the room.¡±

    ¡®Mister?¡¯ Did she not just use ¡®Sir?¡¯ Why the discrepancy? In the strategic council room too, she vacillated between Lord and a lesser word. Is she lost in the throws of some violent inner turmoil? A sorrow that so rends her accounting of self that she might think to tear the lot of us down with her? Why, then, Momon as an idol? If only I could rob her of her robe and mask. I suppose they¡¯re doing their job diligently, keeping her inscrutable not just to her enemy, but also to us. I suppose that distinction is a little less clean than purported.

    Renner broke away from her insolent comrade, looking to the looming man in the back. He was leaning over, whispering something unheard to his companion. The woman - to Renner¡¯s knowledge, a sorceress by the name of Nabe - nodded, let him draw back to his full height, and then spoke.

    ¡°Mister Momon says there is no need for a lengthy introduction. We should begin the briefing as fast as possible.¡±

    Her tone was clipped and flat, carrying no flair. Renner leapt upon the opportunity, not giving her companion the chance to speak.

    ¡°Well, so goes most of this night. Then, as Master Momon suggests, let¡¯s move with haste. Evileye, things are fit for me to continue?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ um, apologies, Your Highness. Please.¡±

    An apology? Why? She did not act in neglect of thought, but rather outran it. How? Genuine fear? The same woman who not only tears weapons from the world, but rips her way through it? If so, then her instinct would not be to apologize to me, but to all those out there. By doing so to me, she believes her words to be in excess. She isn¡¯t sorrowful. She¡¯s smitten.

    Renner¡¯s eyes opened just a little wider, the moment finally coming together in a way that made sense. Her rage - once blind and directionless - snapped into order, turning into the much more palatable feeling of cool hatred.

    She would threaten everything for a fancy? She is daft, isn¡¯t she? To step out, and let such emotions come to the fore. To think that my affection - a true and proper love for Climb - would be threatened by such a useless flit by a useless woman. Come now, Evileye; look to his side. Does he not have a maid already? Were it not for your magic and lore, I would think you as adolescent as your stature purports you to be.

    Turning back to the crowd, Renner swallowed her spit and the urge to spit it at Evileye and addressed them again.

    ¡°As Evileye said, we have a warrior to challenge Jaldabaoth in equal combat. Everyone, in no capacity is this fight unwinnable! We will strike and we will claim a sure victory! To that end, to claim this ¡®sure victory,¡¯ will employ the following stratagem. As an initial point, you adventurers will serve as a bow.¡±

    ¡°A bow? Not a shield?¡±

    Another interruption, this from a lithe swordsman off to the right.

    ¡°Forgive the vulgarity, but you can¡¯t run a man through with a shield. We¡¯re forming a three layer force: you adventurers will serve as vanguard, behind you a line of guards, and behind them guild magicians and those men from the church. Arranged like that, we will push into the felflame, and advance through those parts of the city occupied by the enemy. In the case that this action is a feint by the enemy, we will push into the core away, and suppress whatever fiends are within, before repositioning to the true threat. In the case of a full bore counter assault, we¡¯ll hold, taste our fate for favor or folly; if we can hold, we will hold, and immediately follow up with a punishing action; else, a snap retreat to stretch their force. You will return to the third line, be healed and receive support magic, before returning to the front-¡±

    ¡°Wait, does this mean the guard will be fighting on our behalf?!¡±

    ¡°The city-¡±

    Renner was cut off before she could make it another word.

    ¡°Another thing, there¡¯s a worse issue here. You say the enemy will stretch when they advance, but by retreating, we¡¯ll stretch too! Who¡¯s to say our capacities don¡¯t become overwhelmed? What if the demons break out and make it into the city, or if they emerge from behind us? Even a low-ranking demon would still rip most people to shreds. Who knows how many extra dead! Why, instead of fighting a ground-game, we do an aerial assault? We have the spellcasters! Levitate the lot of us and we can penetrate the enemy formation in one movement! No ground to lose!¡±

    Renner blinked, her expression wavering in all manner of ways before settling on a slight frown. The specific suggestion was unexpected, yet the general nature of it was predictable. She was in the company of those who fashioned themselves heroes. Heroes were wont for brash action. Given the choice between a steady, protracted back-and-forth - more forth than back - and a rapid, daring gambit to win the fight right that moment, they would always choose the latter. The gambit was just that, a chance to win outright and dash away the demons ere the morrow; or, as its opposite would have, hand themselves over for destruction.

    It¡¯s conceivable, but confounding. Jaldabaoth is already forcing my hand to chance. That I must make the arrowpoint a man whose deeds I know twice removed - and to which there are still lingering questions - is difficult enough. Supporting a second such daring charge leads me to no gain. I would only needlessly endanger my future. In what way is a speedier victory valuable to me? It fails to strengthen my House, and though I perhaps receive some additional glory for personal participation, that¡¯s useless capital. Were it to work, Chardelon gains nothing. A token excuse, then.

    ¡°Not that I haven¡¯t considered that, but demons count many winged things among their numbers, no?¡±

    Again, the room went silent, her harriers lost in combinations of frowns, silent admonitions of self, or other expressions of similar feelings. Once again a swelling in her breast, though this time, a little fouler, and a little less welcome. Realizing dragging the moment wouldn¡¯t cause a return of those earlier feelings, she continued.

    ¡°To that, such magic would only expose us to their eyes, and their aptitude in fighting divorced from the ground is something they surely exceed us in. A swooping strike would give us the best odds - to fall from a great height very quick-like before diving between the buildings and slaking ourselves on them with ease - though even that has its flaws. Ah, there¡¯s a more pressing matter. As mentioned before, we weaken in retreat, and are susceptible to a breakthrough. However, the same stands for our enemy. An¡­ elasticity on our part that allows us to snap back - as would a drawstring. We are not to be on the defensive for long.¡±

    Scattered cheers came, a few in the crowd overbrimming with the image she had stirred.

    Ramp.

    ¡°You, thus, are the bow of the Kingdom. You draw and loose, and whom you loose will strike the enemy dead. Our arrow is Master Momon. When the enemy draws thin - either by way of our advance or retreat - he will break forth at speed, fly beneath the rooftop peaks, and shatter the enemy where he lands.¡±

    ¡°What of Red Drop? By no means am I challenging the prowess of Darkness, but they are only two. Why not a screening force? Surely it would be the most certain way.¡±

    The front mythril plate again, this time not in cynicism, but in criticism.

    ¡°Mm, it¡¯s a security I too want, but cannot have. Red Drop is afield. In Argland, actually. We have informed them through magical means, but their return leg would take them through to midday tomorrow. I¡¯d hazard things resolved by the dawn, either for goodness, or against it. They will not be here tonight.¡±

    And a very sorry matter that they will not. A second arrow would be more than reassuring, it would change the character of the moment. Even that fellow Climb and Brain seem so fond of, why not him?

    ¡°Then¡­ of Blue Rose? Will they be going in with Mister Momon?¡±

    ¡°With two of us in the company of He of the Winding Chasm, our battle strength is greatly depleted. Tina and I will join the battle line and lead in what capacity we can. As for Evileye-.¡±

    ¡°I will be accompanying Mister Momon- Sir Momon as he makes his entry, and I¡¯ve been restoring myself to that end.¡±

    ¡°Then, let me ask another question, one not to you, but to the Warrior Captain. What of the forces of those constituting Houses? What of their soldiers? What of yours? What of the warrior band? Even the finest of us have lost two women. Why not take their place on the line; lead those troops into battle, and let Blue Rose handle the task of clearing the path for Momon-san?¡±

    ¡°Answer us!¡±

    Murmurs and the like followed in the wake of this. Renner suppressed a smile.

    This could be¡­ advantageous. Stronoff, choose your words poorly.

    ¡°The house troops are responsible for protecting their masters¡¯ estates; the knight and professional units are dedicated to the defense of Ro-Lante; and the warriors I lead are tasked with defending the Royal Family.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you won¡¯t step onto the battlefield, Captain Stronoff?¡±

    ¡°Mm, it¡¯s so. My duty is to stay in Valencia and protect the members of House Vaiself.¡±

    The room once again fell into a coil, murmurs growing to shouts, and shouts to cries. Renner faked shock, then shame, lowering her head slightly and dropping her gaze in a way she felt just comical enough to pass inspection. This was exactly the sort of thing she found useful, an ingratiation into the thinking of adventurers. Though their lives were not individually important, to slip into their minds as a figure who not only piteously granted them exemptions from tax, but as one who felt for their plight in a time of need was - at the very least - useful. Repute begat repute, another avenue for popularity, with all the advantages that bestowed. Lakyus stole the floor, snapping in response to the tumult.

    ¡°Everyone, I understand you are not happy with this arrangement, though I would advise you to remember some key facts. The one who submitted the request to the guild, and bore the burden of its cost was not House Vaiself, but her Highness Renner herself - out of her own private finances. The one who brought Mister Momon here was Lord- Marquis Raeven. He is not here right now because he and his men are standing sentry against any demons which might be slipped past into the capital. It¡¯s frustrating - enraging, even. I am as unhappy with the broader nobility and royal court as you are, but this is not a backstab, and even were it one, not all highbloods would be your enemy.¡±

    Perfect, or nearabouts. Promotion of me and my ally. What escapes their dying lips tonight will be curses on the broader polity. ¡®Damn those cowardly nobles,¡¯ and the like. I, thus, bloom a little more for Raeven. A way to secure himself in the eyes of guildsmen as a ¡°good one.¡± Shame no mention was made of Zanac, though¡­ ah. Perhaps it would be a good thing to fight for a strengthened house. This beggars more thought later. There is a more immediate subject at hand.

    Renner¡¯s eyes swung further to the right; Climb was but three paces in that direction. He was stiff, with that flat look of stoic ignorance that he and Gazef tended to get for one another in times where their opposite was challenged.

    You.

    Renner was beginning to get annoyed. For the same reasons the capital had been turned upside down, her attempts to gently goad Climb into death had simply seized. He stepped out into the night, one meticulously set to snap him into as few pieces possible, only for him to walk right back out without a wound. It was certainly not for lack of danger - he encountered Six Arms, and his fellows half a mile distant met ends in fire - rather, the mechanisms of fate had simply decided that his jaunt into the black would be fraught with safety.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    At this pace, I¡¯ll need to shove him into the grave.

    Time hung, seconds feeling much too long. Fantasies flooded back to her, images of him laying sickly and faint, agonized flutters of his breast as he fought for breath. Renner¡¯s mouth opened slightly, top front teeth meeting with her bottom lip.

    Perhaps, a little brashness.

    ¡°There is one more thing¡­ While we may advance to defeat the enemy, there is a matter of greater importance. Climb!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Although¡­ it is a dangerous task, I must entrust you with it. When we enter the enemy¡¯s hold, there will be survivors. Please, do what you can to save them.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness! Whatever is needed to accomplish that, I will do.¡±

    A great stumble came from her left, a hundred and fifty looks of disbelief, but she ignored it. Climb¡¯s death was an end all unto itself, and, even if the ask was insane, it would fit the appearance of an over-charitable girl nevertheless. Renner waited for the expected offers of support, though, it coming from directly behind was a little surprising.

    ¡°Miss¡­ Princess, if I may have a word, Climb is just one. To strike off on his own is¡­ will you permit me to accompany him?¡±

    Him? Wonderful.

    ¡°I did not reckon myself in the permitting of such things. Why, I was to make the very same request of you, Brain Unglaus.¡±

    Guide him to a murderous thing, and drag back his body, my dear scion of danger.

    ¡°Ah, then, it¡¯s no problem for me.¡±

    ¡°Then I will be counting on you. May I now ask the various party leaders to step forward? Let me provide battle plans in detail.¡±

    With this, the evening slowed. Thirty or so people in the center began to shuffle forward - a few more dragged from the sides and diagonals - the whole crowd melting into a slurry of bobbing heads. Renner watched with little attention, giving the occasional nod or half-spoken greeting as individuals worked their way to the front. Though they were to be the city¡¯s saviors, to socialize with them was unbecoming, and as Lakyus was doubly exhausted, the minutes passed in silence. Of that intermingling, Darkness seemed to be the most popular, Renner catching a line of people snaking out from them, every party sending someone to introduce themselves to the strongest pair. Queerly, she noted that Momon was doing most of the work, shaking hands with each who approached.

    Isn¡¯t that a little out of fashion?

    ¡°Why is he taking so long?¡±

    The low grumble came from Evileye, who, after Renner raised an eyebrow, slipped into the crowd and out of sight. For Renner¡¯s sake, she had outright lost Darkness in a shuffle of the mass, herself challenged in respect to height. Renner had long since doffed her heels for something more practical for an evening spent standing, and as adventurers were taller and broader than most, she had no capacity to peer through it. She had no desire to strain herself to that end and dropped the thread. The matter only came back into her consciousness a minute later when emerged from the crowd neither Momon nor Evileye, but Nabe, allowing  Renner to get her first close regard of the sorceress.

    Eh? Ah, I suppose the rumors of her being a foreigner are true. By the looks of it, a southerner.

    Renner gazed a second longer, pulling in a swift up-down-up evaluation of her soon to be savior. For the standards of adventuring-kind, her dress was not drab, but understated. She was simply thrown over in a dyed wool overcoat, with a color somewhere between umber and red ochre. Renner had no sense for these sorts of things, but the faint crinkles at her hip indicated something worn underneath, likely a weapon. Pulling back to her face, she saw a rather unamused expression that betrayed little emotion besides a slight tilt of the eyebrows.

    My, she''s positively gorgeous, isn''t she? I almost feel outdone.

    ¡°Well, I believe that¡¯s all of us. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, her Highness has a drawing room prepared to the left.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lakyus. If you would.¡±

    Lakyus broke, the lot shuffling after her lead. Slipping through a pair of open double doors, the lot made their way into a smaller room. This was a function of a plot by Renner, this drawing room possessing an overthin patch of wall with a small space purpose-built for eavesdropping behind it. Accessed through a secret entrance in a room adjacent to the one Renner was in now, two were now occupying it, her brother and the Marquis. The stock discomfort adventures held for highbloods other than her meant that their direct presence was likely to result in stifled voices, something no member of the trio wished to invoke. Thus, the two men had retreated to a secret place, allowing Renner the more delicate task of wrangling adventurers. This space was more densely packed with objects, another table with another nicked map, though this having been inked much more recently than the one in the ballroom. Renner worked her way to it, making her way to Lakyus, who was already standing by. She cast her gaze down, taking a closer look at the map; specifically at the river that intersected the circle.

    Re-Estize has always been maze-like, but the particulars of the Geyda and Laroque districts were a level of their own. In the panic of the last few hours, Renner had done a basic review of all areas within the blaze, particularly the port¡¯s history. Two hundred years prior, as the yearling Kingdom dredged itself up from the ruin of the Demon Gods, basic trade was re-established between the east and the west. With roads still too dangerous for merchant traffic, traders fell back to the river, piloting barges from the headwaters near what would be named Re-Boullorel. The deep crevasses of the earth still swelled with felkind, and while iron veins were accessible, coal was not; with even the forests having been ripped away, there was no capacity to smelt, and thus the ore was sent downriver.

    The early business of Re-Estize was just that, harvesting its bogs just south for peat, and then using that as fuel. This necessitated docks, ones that ran along the northernmost fork of the Rine - which, for reasons beyond Renner, was referred to as the Southflow. This had created a thriving cluster of constructions to support the mercantilists who would sail down twice a year, stay through winter, and then venture back northeast. Docks begat warehouses, and warehouses begat laborers, many of whom made homes not too far away. As the Kingdom grew into its name, its industries drew themselves back together, and the space for housing shrunk. Homes became tenements, and tenements became warrens; the zone was, nowadays, far and away the densest part of the city. Now, against an enemy best suited for combat in such close quarters, besieging the district felt nigh impossible. It was a depressing truth: decisions made in the wake of disaster two centuries before were now being exploited by the very same sort of beings who wrought it.

    I fear for the present. Not for what is, but for what isn¡¯t. Those lost histories, not by way of wilful flouting, but by ignorance. Here we stand at a great repetition of things once come, and yet we know nothing of it. The enemy sees this, lore made manifest from hewn wood and stone. How long was this action coming? How long ago was this plot set? If it was done with a sun so deep in the east - a plan two-hundred years in the making - I fear any action I may take will itself be foretold. Ah, though, if this is a rapid scheme, would not that make things worse? Is this what a sow feels under the ax? Questioning if the rancher had fattened them for months, or if he merely had a hunger pang.

    As the last made their way in, Lakyus cast her gaze round and began.

    ¡°A detailed account is as follows. The wall of fire stretches roughly three hundred paces across, and is centered on Geyda square. It swallows all of the Geyda warren, most of Utreno to the west, cuts across the southflow to enclose the very northernmost part of Laroque, and then bisects Getha, Windlon, and Ro-Solethor to the northwest, north, and east respectively. Major roads - fit enough for double file cart traffic - lead out of the firewall in two directions, running from dead north and out to the southwest; general roads - fit for single file carts - run out in seven separate directions, and are roughly spread across the center of each neighborhood¡¯s joining. One of those crossings includes the bridge between Utreno and Laroque, the westermost crossing between the two neighborhoods. There are roughly another five dozen backways, alleys, and other, less explicit ways through, both at and below ground.¡±

    Lakyus indicated the locations she spoke of on the map, lightly tapping her finger on each place she described.

    ¡°Little is known about the enemy. While we can be assured that Jaldabaoth is truly their commander, we do not have a count of their force size, powers, or numbers. Of what I saw, I can confirm the presence of Gazers and Hellhounds, but there are likely more varieties of demons beyond the wall. Further, the wall of fire is thick at the ground, and completely obscures vision to the other side. While we know that the enemy is entirely within the blaze, we do not know where inside of it they are. That said, it is reasonable to predict a basic defensive posture. The enemy will likely choose hard to assault positions, tight street corners, and other such implementations. While demons have magic casters, many of their more mundane forces will only be capable of melee combat. Winding alleyways, well-constructed buildings, and dark corners will be their best fighting spots.

    It is possible that their ranged forces may attempt to get a leg above the city. The highest point in the blaze is the cathedral of the six that sits right off the square itself; stone, and with a spire that stands at least twenty paces off the ground. However, these positions may be more dynamic than they first appear. Even their ranged fighters are winged, and may freely abandon any position, or hop from rooftop to rooftop with ease. Keep attentive of the space above you, have a member of your party keep their eyes up at all times and cycle through. Demons have no quarrel with vile methods of fighting; they will ambush, they will lay traps. Be careful. Be alert.

    As far as the enemy¡¯s objectives, we possess some understanding of them from their behavior. Earlier in the evening, I, along with my party and supporting troops from House Raeven assaulted a number of Eight Fingers positions around the city, positions which we found were emptied of both wealth and men. After my comrades were assailed and slain, the wall of fire was raised. The enemy was in some way involved with Eight Fingers, most likely per their stated objective - that they were seeking an object of power. This matches with their current action, with Utreno containing the largest cluster of warehouses in the city. Like her Highness spoke earlier, our objectives are twofold: one, eliminate the demon commander; two, foil his plot. To that, we will likely need to push through the stowages in depth. Expect indoor fighting in an environment with winding spaces, and much cover. However, there¡­ there is something else.¡±

    Lakyus paused and stole a breath.

    ¡°For some reason, the enemy has taken to a third objective. They appear to be stealing citizens from their homes, and dragging them deeper into the core of the blaze. Where they are exactly, we do not know. It¡¯s possible they may have been separated, or otherwise held captive. While¡­ the purpose behind this is unknown¡­ expect anything.¡±

    The room was silent, everyone understanding what Lakyus had left unspoken. Demons were not wont to spare lives. A revival of that earlier bodily sensation came to Renner: what it would feel like to be chewed. Her companion coughed, then went on.

    ¡°The operation will take place in four phases. Phase one will be the initial entrance into the  blaze, and establishment of a battleline; we will launch probatory strikes and attempt to seize a number of structures as strongpoints. These will be along the nine major roads mentioned before, and specifically, will be stone or brick structures capable of standing to spellfire or spat flame. One critical objective is the aforementioned bridge between Laroque and Utreno. Of any entrance into the flame, it is the closest to the river port, and thus the warehouses. The warrens to the west and east of it are particularly dense, and with the enemy¡¯s advantage in tight space, would be a slaughtering ground. The next closest path into the flame is much further away, and, depending on the course of the battle, we may be unable to reach the stowage for over an additional hour.

    Phase two of the operation will be the establishment of battlelines. Once we enter and acquire strong points, we will fight laterally, linking between each group and establishing the three layers mentioned previously. With this completed and lines established, we will begin phase three, the steady advancement on Geyda square. As her Highness said in the other room, this will be a thorough advance. When needed, we will breach buildings and drive the enemy out into the street to be run through on pikes or by arrows. We will vanquish as many as we can. When and where they buckle, a guildmage will send word, and Darkness - who, until this point, will be circling the flame - will redirect themselves to that point and slip through the enemy line. At this point, phase four begins. Darkness will hunt down Jaldabaoth with Evileye as auxiliary, and the rest of us will continue fighting. Come his banishment or destruction, the enemy will collapse, and we will sweep the area completely.¡±

    The battle plan had been Renner¡¯s, a steady advance designed to rob the enemy of their defensive and terrain advantages. As a kingdom, Re-Estize had not practiced siege warfare proper for four decades and had no experience on doing so against non-humans; still, she had enough inklings to determine traditional methods would fail. The superior mobility of the enemy meant that charges and spearhead assaults were likely to result in encirclement. Formation tactics would result in columns of troops half as wide and with double the ranks, leaving them highly vulnerable to linear spellfire. Thus, she had decided upon a much more dynamic course of action. Individual parties would function as lances, which would then be interlinked in groups of two to four to assault a street or cluster of buildings. Possessing the sort of tight coordination necessary, these lances could make individual tactical assessments - clearing houses, making use of rapid barricades, launching flanking attacks - maintaining the flexibility necessary to deal with a demonic response. The selection of parties to specific missions was Lakyus¡¯s doing, something which she now explained.

    ¡°Specific assignments are as follows. I and the Blue Roses will be leading the primary assault from the southwest, along with teams Spear Forward, Doom Scyers, and Copper Washout. The assault from the north will be headed by the Seekers of Sfeiz, and supported by Crimson Scorpion, Obsidian Rose, and Tallow and Vellum. Northwest Witchers and Avoidant Cause will assault the sideroad into Utreno; Hither Wither and White Block for Getha; Joust Jacker and Rockpox for westernmost entrance into Windlen, Unlovables and Bane of Worm for the east; Axes of the Damned and Second Chance for the northern entrance into Ro-Solethor, and Terminal End and The Lifers for the southernmost. Naga Scryers and Headless Rabbit will assault the bridge in a two-pronged attack, and once taken, Helm of Yore will join them to assault the port. Sandshrike¡¯s Company, Sisters of Fury, and Nine Thousand and One will launch air assaults, sortieing as needed to knock the enemy off of roofs. Salted Ash will serve in a support capacity, specifically spellfire battery. Crimson Circle, Forward Spear, Armor Slaked, and Slow Heat will stay in reserve. Darkness¡­ well, I believe we all know.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lakyus. Before we open to questions, I ask that I may have a word.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°Forgive a princess for opining about the annals of her house, but if it is not an outsized burden, I would ask all of you to remember our history. When Brog¡¯Drukil, Fourth Archfiend of Ixixis¡¯Krkrir came into our lands, he and his armies wrought such ruin and woe that all the land from here to the mountains on the far side of Baharuth were rendered ashen wastes. They were strong, they were numerous, in everyways the match of those that you will soon face, and yet our forebears did not break. Even through lightless dawns and red nights, they endured, first desperately holding against the enemy, then repelling the enemy, then running the enemy down. Our people chased the lot back into their pits and slew all who dared stay. My forefather - eleven times removed - King Andrean the First destroyed the earthly form of Brog¡¯Drukil, so thoroughly wiping him away that his edicts lost all power for all time. We defeated them then. We will defeat them now.¡±

    I wonder how much of what I just spoke is actually true. More lies from Slane, perhaps? Lies become damned lies, and damned lies become history. I haven¡¯t an earthly idea how the dread six-hundred is at play here, but it clearly is.

    Renner showed a light smile and genuflected once more.

    ¡°Apologies, I fear I was a little overexcited. Any queries?¡±

    Several people perked up, the lead of which was a gold-plate in a gambeson.

    ¡°Yeah, Princess, er-¡±

    ¡°Princess is fine.¡±

    ¡°Right, how long is each phase supposed to last?¡±

    ¡°While phases one and two are ideally completed within three quarters of an hour, there is no similar frame for the third and fourth. Simply put, we do not know how long the enemy will fight-¡±

    ¡°Fiends are temperamental, fickle even. They won''t give forewarning, but when they choose to break, they¡¯ll break quick.¡±

    ¡°As Lakyus said.¡±

    ¡°I understand. Thank you, Princess.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Ah, and not to bogart this time just for answering and listening. Please, meet with the other party leaders you are to fight alongside. Further, if you wish to plot specific routes for your pair or quartet, this map is yours to mark. We have a Master of Ordinances out in the hall, I believe, Sir Ekre; he can tell you what structures on this map are hardened, or fit for defense. It might be worth calling him in now.¡±

    At this, the room broke into more general conversation, those with questions instead pausing and turning to each other. Like before, it was time for more waiting, a coming together of party leaders to decide the specific tactics of the evening. Some drew together, the leader of Seekers of Sfiez taking first to the map along with the other parties left in his care and a pair shaking hands and leaving for the ball room immediately; Gazef too left, leaving Brain and Climb to talk to each other. Others lingered, either studying the map, listening to the conversations of other bands, or simply standing silent and still. Nabe was one of the latter; she had an overwhelming air of disinterest about her. Renner, feeling the moment as spare as any, decided to look her over in detail.

    She possessed the distinct traits of a southerner - not of Gazef¡¯s stock, but of a different type Renner could not place: skin of a slightly different - though still bright - tone; waxy black hair; eyelids given over to folds on either side. Her complexion was light, yet not overfair, cheeks - that themselves were ever slightly lower and fuller than those common in the kingdom - having a hint of blush. Her eyes were just as subtle, her irises on first glance gray, yet a faint violet on second. Between them lay a petite nose, poking out in a way that was somehow demure. Her mouth was small, with thin lips of little color - though this complemented the other hues of her visage better than would have rosy ones. Her face came to a point, chin more defined by its position on her face than distance from it. Her forehead was of no greater size than Renner¡¯s, though it was obscured by a thick set of bangs, which themselves ever so slightly passed thin brows of similar texture. Put together, the sorceress at once looked hardened and mouseish.

    Actually, I believe I have been outdone. Why, she¡¯s adorable. Perhaps that expression of hers would spoil her beauty, but somehow her bangs seem to counter the effect. Ah, and even her hair! It catches the light, yet has no sheen of oil. It is merely that rich and thick.

    Nabe¡¯s stillness broke; she pivoted her head, looking back in the direction of the double doors. Renner caught her cheek at just the right oblique for the magelight behind to halo the woman¡¯s skin, faintly shining through its edge. Renner traced it, attempting to admire its smoothness, but was lost to a creeping sense that something was missing. She took a few seconds to find it. Nabe had none of the tiny, diaphanous hairs that Renner was accustomed to on the fellow faces of the fair sex; nor was there sign of their removal. This was odd, but Renner went once over again, the second pass revealing nothing else. Drawing back, Renner looked more deeply at her cheek, struggling to suppress a startle when she could neither spy foundation nor pores. Renner flitted her gaze to other features, jumping between cheekbones, the mouth, and then back up to her eyes, seeing no rouge, nor carmine, nor kohl. Nabe was not wearing makeup. Her skin was not simply blemishless, it was perfect. Perplexed, Renner blinked twice, then fluttered her eyes, and upon opening them to see the same image - no illusion revealing itself - cocked her head a little further.

    She isn¡¯t simply gorgeous, she¡¯s frightening. The work of magic? It would have to be, but that feels so unlikely for this woman. The apathy¡­ no, disdain she seems to have. Does she care that deeply for appearances? Could she? It feels almost out of character, unless I¡¯m misjudging her attitudes. It feels so strong though, she drips a sort of dutifulness. Rather than that, it¡¯s as if she simply is. Unerringly perfect. Like a-

    Nabe stiffened, suddenly turning around to stare Renner dead in the eye.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Eh? Nothing.¡±

    Nabe stared a little longer, her eyes tracing the length of Renner¡¯s face, then nodded and turned back to the entrance.

    The movement of her lips didn¡¯t match the words she spoke. She¡¯s using translation magic. So casually as well. No wonder she¡¯s adamantite. Ah, this is too unworthy a quandary for now; focus on what''s at hand.

    Renner gave a slight sight, dismissing the matter to instead look at whatever Nabe was peering at. Tracing the line of her gaze, Renner settled on the door. A few seconds passed with nothing, but then, out of that entrance, came a runt thrown-over in crimson and a towering black figure. Renner hailed first.

    ¡°Greetings, Master Momon. My meeting you has been a thing desired since I first heard of your exploits in E-Rantel.¡±

    ¡°Mm. It is good to meet you as well, your Highness.¡±

    His voice was deep and full-bodied, similar in effect to the warrior captain¡¯s, though less scraggly. Helm still donned, Renner could make out none of his face, suspecting in absent defeat that he was likely to keep it on for the remainder of the evening. Though not quite full plate in the fashions she was accustomed too, he was completely covered in armor, alternating between two sheens of metal. The outer, which constituted his helm, breastplate, backplate, pauldrons, courtiers, gauntlets, faulds, tassets, leg greaves, and sabatons had luster akin to a  dark gray indigo, the unmistakable shade of orihalchum-adamantite alloy. Below that was another, darker material, one that flexed as he moved, yet was still metallic; this constituted an underlayer, taking the place of plate to protect the abdomen, upper and lower arms, as well as the inside of his thighs. Lastly, the trim, which had the color of gold - though likely this was only leaf - ran the breadth of his plate¡¯s edges, also constituting his poleyns. From his back fluttered a red cape of some luscious fabric Renner could not identify, with a more rugged-looking gray linen binding both his couters and poleyns to his joints. This bulk of armor, along with the two oversized hilts that framed his head from either side seemed to make Momon greater in stature than he was, his presence simply imposing.

    I suppose this is what most imagine our finest heroes ought to be. Towering men in heavy armor, bearing swords much too large for an average person to so much as lift. Beautiful women with magical aptitude so skilled it becomes casual and effortless - not to say Lakyus is not the latter, but I feel there is a slight difference in the functions of her attractiveness. Perhaps I¡¯ve merely gotten used to the splendor of the Blue Rose and blinded myself to their true stature. In either case, I¡¯m glad to have them.

    ¡°Forgive us, we already went through the details of the battleplan, though I¡¯m sure your part in this is obvious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. My companion and I have a clear idea of our roles in this fight.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, Your Highness-¡±

    This voice came from behind, Renner turning around to see a rather cowed Climb doing his best not to quake in place.

    ¡°Eh? What is it?¡±

    ¡°I know another person who could¡­ become an arrow for this assault. He is a man with overwhelming fighting power. Would it be all right to ask for his aid?¡±

    Ah, Sebas. It is perhaps late to seek his aid. No matter. Let the moment hang. I want to see him stammer out a little more.

    Renner stayed silent, throwing an inquisitive gaze on Climb. To her pleasure, he broke, stumbling out a few more words.

    ¡°One arrow is good, but two would be better, and if they helped each other, I am sure they could defeat any demon that showed itself, no matter how powerful it was.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this, Climb? Are you saying the Master Momon I recommended isn¡¯t enough?¡±

    Ah, you¡¯re ruining the moment, you ingrate.

    Renner shot a glare at Evileye, an expression of displeasure wholly appropriate.

    ¡°What? No- no, of course not. That was not my intention at all, I-¡±

    ¡°Master Momon is the strongest warrior in existence. Likely, rather than helping him, the man you recommended would be nothing more than a hindrance.¡±

    ¡°That might not be so. I too have seen the person Climb is speaking of. His strength is extraordinary - he felled Zero, strongest of the Six Arms, in one strike.¡±

    Eh? Twice now in one evening I¡¯ve been greeted by that phrase. Perhaps that¡¯s natural for the scrambled and desperate combat among bladed men, but I thought that disappeared in higher echelons.

    ¡°You¡¯re Brain Unglaus, right? Serving her Highness on the recommendation of Gazef Stronoff and Climb?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Gazef¡¯s subordinate, but, before I officially join his band, I stay by the Princess¡¯ side.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re much stronger than Climb, but that doesn¡¯t make your assessment more accurate; no guarantee of that man¡¯s strength. And besides, didn¡¯t you lose to that hag?¡±

    ¡°Ah, but didn¡¯t you lose to her too? My apologies, Mister Unglaus.¡±

    Lakyus¡¯s interjection was timely, something that made her silence a clever tactic to shatter her comrade¡¯s hubris, who, for her part, had slipped into a whimper.

    ¡°It- it wasn¡¯t just her, you all were there too!¡±

    ¡°After you lost, you said you lost to Rigrit, not the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°You still remember that, Tina?¡±

    More whimpering from Evileye, Tina breaking into a barely stifled laugh. Momon, having looked on silently while this conversation occurred, finally chanced to speak up.

    ¡°This man, he sounds interesting. What sort of person is he?¡±

    ¡°His name is Sebas.¡±

    ¡°Hm? Seibath? Could you perhaps describe him?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s an older gentleman. Tall, well-built-¡±

    ¡°Handsome.¡±

    ¡°H-handsome too. He¡¯s a butler in service of his master¡¯s daughter¡­ they¡¯re traveling together. he¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°Strong. Really strong. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met a man quicker with his fists and kicks than him. He can take hits too, blows I would struggle to live through, certainly wouldn''t be able to stand still through.¡±

    Climb and Brain both trailed off, the two lost in their recounting of events. Renner found the situation strange. Climb dumbstruck by a feat of strength or brawn was one thing, but for Gazef¡¯s only worthy competitor to say the same was another altogether.

    If that man is truly that strong, no wonder Climb walked back unscathed from the night. A proper guardian.

    ¡°I have not done battle with this Sebas before, so I cannot say which of us would be stronger.¡±

    ¡°Of course Ma-ister Momon is stronger than him.¡±

    ¡®Ma-ister¡¯? I did not expect the next confused referral to come from his own companion. Is there some enchanting force about this man that scrambles the minds of all that come near? This is becoming comical.

    ¡°Well, if my companion says so, then there must be some truth to the observations of both sides. I believe he should be able to stand on equal footing with me.¡±

    ¡°Good on you for checking my comrade, giving a more reasonable perspective¡­ something which she¡¯s not. Mm, actually, she¡¯s unreasonable in general. Weird height. Weider personality.¡±

    ¡°Do you really-¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright; the two of you hush. No more of this in public. That¡¯s an order. If there are no other serious matters to discuss, I say we go visit Tia and Gagaran.¡±

    The two had been resurrected in the interim hours, though Renner suspected they were not properly living yet. A pang of envy struck her, a sincere yet sickly repetitive wish that a third had been given over to such a process.

    ¡°Mm. Yes. Oh, one thing; is it possible to use dark energy to destroy the enemy en masse?¡±

    ¡°Dark energy?¡±

    Lakyus seemed to lurch at Evileye¡¯s random question.

    ¡°Ah, I heard from Gagaran that the full power of Kilineiram could swallow up great tracts; if uncontrolled, the entire country.¡±

    ¡°Th-that is not a matter to speak of here! There are other things at hand!¡±

    Renner piqued. Lakyus had not reacted to Evileye¡¯s words, she had retaliated, an angrier tone having slipped into her voice.

    Another point of stress. Her blade affects her, that much I know, but exactly how? Or, the sword¡¯s power may be too much to reveal here. For either, Evileye should know better than to ask. This bears shelving.

    At that moment, another door opened, not the double doors that lead out into the ballroom, but those from a smaller, sealed meeting space off of the drawing room. Out walked two a pair apparently ready to speak to Renner.

    ¡°Brother, Lord Raeven.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Sister.¡±

    ¡°Igana, Elias. I have an introduction to make. These here are the leaders of each adventurer party which has listened to our request tonight.¡±

    ¡°Aha! You all have my sincerest thanks!¡±

    ¡°As do you have mine.¡±

    Zanac gave an appreciative nod, Raeven also managing a bow. The lot bowed back, though with a stiffness that indicated more obligation than gratitude.

    ¡°Now, if you all would not mind. I would like to speak with the Count and the Marquis alone. Please, feel free to take out the map and ink. Though, before, - forgive me for not knowing the proper method of prayer - but if I may speak, I beseech the Gods above to deliver us all unto the dawn, alive and victorious. The hopes of Re-Estize rest on all of you-¡±

    Renner turned an eye to the hero of the moment.

    -especially you, Mister Momon. May the Gods turn a special eye to you.¡±

    And may whatever wicked eyes have laid themselves upon me become distracted by you, and break away only to never spy me again.

    The room took around a minute to clear - the last one out Climb, dutifully pulling it shut with his egress. Renner, finding the day had taken much more out of her than intended, let her act drop immediately, turning back to the Marquis and prince with the expression that seemed to so haunt them before.

    ¡°We caught most of the proceedings. Though, there¡¯s one point I wasn¡¯t quite sure on. Why the use of city guard? A battle line of them isn¡¯t much. Are they impediments?¡±

    ¡°Bait.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what the adventurers said too.¡±

    ¡°Jaldabaoth¡¯s army cannot be allowed to run free - not in a cityscape. The death would be untold. Defending such a wide line without house forces is impossible. Therefore, his army must be sated. Filled, if you will. The guards are not there as fighters; rather, they are a feast. If Jaldabaoth¡¯s fiends gorge on guards, they will be slowed; their bloodlust dulled, no? Blood on hot coals.¡±

    ¡°There has to be some better option here? I don¡¯t-

    Zanac fought down a wretch.

    ¡°Some¡­ way that doesn¡¯t involve sacrificing the city guard wholesale?¡±

    ¡°Igana, do not insult yourself; if there was a method, by now, you would have found it.¡±

    ¡°Then, permit me to seek clarification. Why are you sending out Climb? He¡¯s walking into blind doom.¡±

    ¡°For the same reason why you two have men patrolling the city.¡±

    Neither man followed up, both men giving static gazes of doubt. Renner let the moment drag, but as Zanac did not undo his sneer, and Raeven did not undo the cock of her head, she realized they had discerned her lie.

    Ah, that telling was a bit too blatant. They doubt me. Make it seem a half truth. Acquiesce.

    Renner gave an apologetic smile, this off putting her opposite pair to the point where they both jumped, much to her amusement.

    ¡°Climb has a chance of dying. A high one. If such a thing happens, Lakyus will call upon He of the Dark Depths and negotiate a release. It won¡¯t be cheap, of course; a gemstone - rather, many - but no expense would be too high. And after he¡¯s returned to us, Climb¡¯s physicality will be¡­ weakened; a loss of his life force. During that time, that¡­ recovery, I will attend to him personally. Who can raise objection to a devastated princess doting on her no-name knight who was so tragically slain in the following of her accords?¡±

    ¡°I-I see¡­ Thank you for speaking so¡­ clearly. However-¡±

    ¡°What if Lakyus dies, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°A reasoned concern, but one that I have accounted for. During the pitched and doomful period of our assault, there will be others at hand, additional people by her side for her protection. As she is valuable to me, so she is to the guildmaster; for her part, she does not want a person who can resurrect the dead to herself die. I didn¡¯t need to negotiate.¡±

    Besides, if Lakyus is to die, then my end is soon after anyway.

    ¡°It seems everything is writ already in your plans, Chardelon.¡±

    ¡°Quite.¡±

    She widened her smile, gleefully watching as the two bucked again.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (27)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

    Serith waded into the fiery red, finding himself lost among the uncountable glitters - the crest of every ripple catching the light of the blaze.

    At least it¡¯s not cold.

    Splashing came from behind, Terlethe, Lucia, and Chendren following after. Serith continued to walk, the water rising first to his ankles, then knees. As it began to lick his thighs, he broke forward, leaping headlong and submerging his entire torso, though he kept his head just barely above the medium. The flow was predictably rancid, as cities fouled whatever rivers passed through them, but it was by no means the worst the Naga Scryers had swam in.

    ¡°Center channel!¡±

    ¡°Understood-¡±

    ¡°-Understood-¡±

    ¡°-Understood!¡±

    The responses came quick and clipped, once-professional soldiers never quite losing their edge. All were former members of the Holy Kingdom of Roble¡¯s now-defunct Marines Corps, their service in the merchant fleet having taken them north. Serith began to breaststroke then rolled his hips onto the side in the direction of flow, scissoring his legs back and forth. With a dozen pulses, he had pushed himself to the center of the river, letting himself become caught by it and be thrust downstream. With one last stroke, he suddenly went limp, ceasing all movement as he allowed his limbs to sink freely. The water slowly rolled him over onto his chest, the leathers of his legs and arms dragging them down. As the water came anigh to his head, he pinched his left eye shut, slowly turning and placing that side of his face down into the water; the interface bisected his nose and mouth, whose right side he left open to breath. The beats behind him soon went dead, and he knew his fellows had done the same.

    One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

    Serith began to judge his speed and distance to either bank, picking a light standard on the farshore and counting as it passed.

    Third of a chain, at least.

    The water battered his sides, slowly needling him downstream. The reds at the top of his vision grew brighter, objects on the shore showing in more and more light as he drifted down, until it looked near to day. Then came a brightness in the vertical periphery, profane whites, furious crimsons, and sickly greens mixing in a wavering tower of flame. He struggled to keep himself from kicking, taming a base sense - doubly strong among sailors - that fire was a thing to be feared.

    It won¡¯t burn. Lady Aindra tested this. It won¡¯t burn.

    He held his wits, those trailing him as well, making no motion as the water dragged him further into the barrier. The light grew brighter, reflections off the water¡¯s folds dazzling his eyes as he drew near and went into radiance. He blinked once then was through, the wall of flame falling behind him much too fast. They were in.

    Here we go.

    The blaze seemed to curl up along his vision, akin to a great ramp that ran to the bank, slipped through the building beyond, and finally soared up to the sky above. He caught two things darting up there in silhouette, the rapid way they sunk between each beat of their wings producing an erratic flight as they jinked and flitted out of sight. The shore was as empty as that upstream, though what structures stood upon it had been defaced; somemerely had their windows shattered and their doors torn off, but others were wholesale collapsed in. Serith again made to range himself to the shore, eyes settling on a ruined cart set on fire.

    Closer, quarter-chain.

    Suddenly, the base of flame widened, with a portion of it breaking away in a shower of sparks on what seemed to be two legs. The flame disgorged several more such motes an instant later, the lot of the little creatures scrambling after one another. Two immediately lost interest, one bolting down an alley, the other leaping over the counter of a small street stall, but the rest kept after. One of the flames, legs lankier than the others - though it rose no higher than a toddler - swiftly outpaced the stubby frontrunner, stretching out two licks of flame. They reached the cart, taking hold of it and lifting it off the ground, forcefully swinging it round and tossing it into the river, where it struck and violently winked out with a sizzle. The creatures seemed to surge in celebration, whistle-like cheers coming from the bank, before they scattered in all directions.

    Serith rose his eye, straining to look at the bank further downstream. The dense wall of shorefront buildings sharply broke away and was replaced by wide, open air stacks of crates. There he caught the first larger thing prowling, a hunched, gray demon three-quarters the height of a man dragging a rod that clacked against the ground. The piled crates soon curved away, revealing a much too wide and empty dockyard that brimmed with the enemy. More of the gray creatures came into view, pairs lugging away crates using two of the rods he had seen the first wielding, but there were other varieties as well: a great, frog-like thing seemed to probe a barrel with his tongue, before coiling around it and drawing it into its mouth to swallow whole; a much too tall man covered in spikes carrying a pallet with both arms; a swarm of little red creatures commanding a crane driven not by the labor of donkeys, but of oversized rottweilers whose mouths glowed with angry heat; a marching triplet of beetle-headed warriors, their carapaces with the luster of brass.

    Count twelve- sixteen- nineteen- twenty- twenty-two- dammit! More.

    The numbers were bad. Even if most were of the smaller varieties, the more foes, the more chances to slip up and let a strike through. Serith kept his face from grimacing, keeping as still as he possibly could. A great crackling came from ahead, scrambled by the water surface. A few more seconds of drifting revealed a river barge set ablaze, with flaming detritus breaking away into the river, bobbing and halfways dousing. Another of the fire spirits was balancing on a piece, puffs of steam spewing into the air whenever the water licked it. Serith went stiff, tensing his whole body to keep its exact position, and gave no sign that he was not just another object in the river. He stopped breathing, passing the desperate creature as it fought to keep cleaved to the wavering plank. It went out of sight a moment later, Serith losing a little of his rigidity as he slowly inhaled.

    The emptiness of the shore lots began to disappear, unloaded cargo becoming more common as the docks turned then swiftly changed back into regular cityscape. He chanced a slight look ahead, curling his neck to cast his gaze downstream. There, catching the long trails of its reflection, was his target

    Twenty paces.

    It was a large, three-span bridge, cobblestone arches jutting out from either bank five paces into the river, between which was a large moving element made from the cores of logs. Affixed to trunnions on either side, each half of the center span could lift, pivoting upward as would a drawbridge. Closed hooks were sunk into each corner of the breakpoint, thick rope tied around each, running back to pulleys at the top of columns extending from the pillars sunk into the river; coming round, the rope stretched to either shore, there coiling around winches driven by beasts of burden via wheels and pinions. The drawbridge was open, a great gap from side to side.

    Seeing his bearing, he again began to move, sinking lower into the water and rolling onto his side. Flexing his abdomen back, he gave another slow pulse of his legs, pushing himself just enough further for his momentum to carry him into the furthest arch from the shore he launched from. He scanned the bridge top, spying two quartets of the beetle creatures on either side, as well as a distended gray man on the near half - the match of the tall thing from before, though on its fours. The banks nearby were empty, no compliments of fiends on either side. Turning around fully, he looked back to the bank he had launched from, catching an errant glint from the second floor window, the wavering flash of a signal mirror. Raising his right hand just out of the water, he shot battlesigns for his comrades to see.

    ¡°Friendlies. Confirmed. Enemy. Four. Infantry. One. Heavy. Attack. Bridge. Pincer.¡±

    The mirror wavered one last time and then disappeared. He turned back to the bridge, now only five paces away. As he approached, his vision crept around the near pillar, and he saw something he oughtn¡¯t to. There, hanging on the abutment, was a large mass, black and spined. He shot out his legs, thrusting them into the mud below to kill his speed, his comrade to his left doing the same. The mass distended, a thin shadowy line blocking out the sky behind; it was an arm, at which the end was a wand.

    ¡°Halt.¡±

    Serith¡¯s words emerged as a whisper, but they did nothing. The wand fired into the air, a harsh, screaming streak of angry white drawn across the glowing sky. Something roiled in the mud beneath, and then what seemed to be a dozen snakes whipped around Lucia, and pulled him under.

    ¡°Ambush!¡±

    The water was moving fast, Serith losing his focus in the haste of the moment and allowing himself to be flipped back forward in the water, now under the bridge. Great thrashing to his left, Lucia lost in a melee with something squamous. A horned eel-like head whipped above the water, needle teeth convulsing as it dragged in a chunk of flesh. He wrenched his leg from the mud, kicking from the abutment to send him deeper into the river. The spined creature unfurled from the wall, a cross between a man and an urchin. Drawing his shortsword, he broke it from the water in time for the thing to leap. He caught a flash of beady red eyes and then was overtopped by the thing, both combatants being sent underwater.

    At once, two things happened: a dozen needles thrust into his breast, his leathers pierced by them in three places; a wondrous crack came, feeling his blade jolt and then sink into the thing. It raged, clawing at his arms and doing its best to shred him. He wrenched his sword, turning it to widen whatever seem he had made in the creature¡¯s shell; planting his boot on the shuddering thing, he wrenched further, cracking it more, before its left side broke off entirely, only held by strings of its gore. With this, its struggle stopped entirely, and Serith was able to push it out and off of him, jets of pain as its spines left him.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He surfaced, stealing his first gulp of air for the last thirteen seconds. Getting his bearings, he realized he had been dragged past the bridge, now on the downstream side of it. Shooting his head upstream, he saw the horned eel still held Lucia, turning over in the water with such force and speed that he thought there was no chance of Lucia¡¯s survival. Terlethe and Chendren were shaken, watching the violence stunned. A splashing noise came from Serith¡¯s right; he turned his head to catch a rapidly advancing wake from the other shore, the slithering of more eel creatures.

    He¡¯s done for. A damn shame.

    ¡°Ascend! Ascend now!¡±

    His comrades were broken from their spell, quickly making to the pillar on the other side and climbing. He gripped onto his, planting a foot on the cobble and scrambling up. The stone was wet, his legs slipping off. The splashing came closer, the horns of two other eel demons poking out of the water advancing far too fast. In desperation, Sereth sheathed his weapon, freeing both his hands to climb. Finding a grip, he tugged himself up, pulling his torso wholly out of the water, then his legs. A twang cracked from almost directly above, he reflexively swelling his energies to pull himself  just out of the way of a bolt. It whizzed past to plink into the water below, and he craned his neck to see what had loosed it. Another pair of red eyes met him, one of the beetle demons that had gone to the bridge''s edge armed with a crossbow. It reloaded and found a bead far too fast, Serith unable to push off the pillar for a second dodge lest he fall into coiling.

    Then, the beetle¡¯s head caved inward, a spew blowing out the back as an arrow flew through it. A second followed a moment later, Serith tracing it back to the opposite shore, where the archer from Headless Rabbit nocked and loosed a third. The beetle demon slumped, then fell over the edge and past him into the water below. The horned-eels below set upon it, either ignorant or uncaring of the fact that it was an ally; they fed on it just the same, thrashing just as the other had with Lucia. Serith continued to climb, leaping up a few more stones. A bang came from the right. He looked in time to catch a second firebolt landing true on the opposite bridge¡¯s near rope, severing its flaming edges and sending that half of the bridge down. One of the urchin aberrations hung near the hinge; Serith heard a satisfying crunch as the creature was crushed and pulped by the mechanism.

    Serith reached up once more, wrapping his hand around the bannister and dragging himself over. Swinging out onto the bridge, he took a reckoning and saw his teammates had already made o¡¯ertop their leg. Chendren kicked a beetle off of her sword, having already slaked herself on it, while Terlethe loaded and loosed his own crossbow at the enemy. The two surviving beetle creatures had retreated to the center, forming a rank in front of the crawling gray man. Serith drew his weapon again, slipping to his side pocket and drawing a vial. Popping off the cork with his thumb, he doused his blade in its contents - a vorpal poison.

    ¡°Advance! Cut the ropes!¡±

    The three stepped forward, advancing on the enemy swiftly. The two beetle demons returned their crossbows, instead reaching to their sides to withdraw coiled cylinders. With their oversized hands, they thumbed their rods, each suddenly springing out to a full length spear. Terlethe reached to his side then threw a bulbous glass bottle at the two. The far beetle demon swung its weapon, striking and shattering it in the air. Its contents immediately ignited, a flume of flaming spew falling upon the enemy. Odd noises came, which Serith figured were cries of pain. The gray man splayed out its arms, falling to the ground and gripping the sides of its head, groaning as it did.

    The two beetle creatures split, leveling their spears and advancing on both Serith and his comrades. He dropped into a stance, as did his opposite, the demon making two probing thrusts with its spear. He backed away from both, then broke forward round the left of the spear, jinking his blade past it to get inside measure. The creature did not retreat, instead swinging its weapon like a staff, and struck him from the side with fantastic strength. He was sent off his feet into the railing, and, an instant later, found himself pinned against it. He shot out his off hand, gripping the haft of the weapon and doing everything he could to push it off. It nudged and he slipped out, continuing to hold it back as he kept moving. The fiend thumbed the weapon again, the haft suddenly leaping back and shredding his hand.

    Swelling his energies again, he dodged the spear¡¯s sudden uncoiling, closing the distance and slaking himself on the creature, doubling the tip of his weapon as he slipped it in. It chittered and rattled its mandibles; a viscous, green fluid poured from the wound. It dropped its weapon, which limply struck at him with his fist, before he shoved its head away with his ruined hand and pushed it off his blade. Snapping to his comrades, he saw they had dealt with their enemy, its chest having been eaten away by a solvent bolt. The gray creature was still pressing its hands into either side of its head, queerly scraping its face against the ground. Serith gave a quick sign, and the three ran around either side of the lanky thing. Dashing to the spot where the rope met the winch, he raised his blade above his head and smote with all his force. His sword struck, not slicing through, nor embedding in the rope, but snapping in two.

    What?!

    He looked on in amazement and horror, realizing his blade was still covered in the beetle¡¯s innards, which seemed to slough off shard after shard of his weapon. Though the splatter seemed to have no effect on his leathers, he panickedly wiped it off anyway, disarming himself and moving to draw his gambler¡¯s dagger. Dropping to his knee, he reached with his off hand without thinking, only receiving a jolt of pain as he remembered it had been ruined. Looking at it, he saw each of his fingers had been broken, the final knuckles of both his pinkie and ring finger hanging on only by his skin. He cringed at the sight, but before he could reach around to grab it with his dexter, a moan came from behind.

    Snapping ¡®round, he saw the gray man had become more violent in its motion, swinging its hips back and forth as it ground its face into the cobblestone. Suddenly, it jerked its head up, then began to thump the ground with it, its moan wavering with each strike. It stopped and then slowly  drew itself up, not standing proper, but half-cocked from the ground. Its moan began to change into a shriek, and as it righted itself to a full two paces in height, it began to pound on its chest, the over-exaggerated swings of its arms sending its torso from side to side as would a child lost in play.

    Serith felt something was very wrong, and made to sever the rope as quick as he could. He hacked at it with his knife, a few strands splaying with every stroke. The gray man broke from the spot, making two drunken strides over to his comrades. Before Serith could yell, it grabbed Chendren by her head and shoulder, then whipped her up over its head, using so much force it stumbled. It then reversed, bashing her against the ground with a sickening squelch. It then did so again, raising her up over its head and driving her back into the ground, and then again, and then again, and so many times after Serith lost count. The nauseousness of battle came over him, a feeling he could never get accustomed too. He sawed with all his force, scant pieces of the rope flaying, but not fast enough.

    With one final swing up, Chendren¡¯s form lost its constitution, splitting at the middle, then flying apart on the down swing, lower half overtopping the bannister to fall into the river below. The gray man then dropped back into its arms and hands, opening a far too-tall-maw to swallow up her arm. Pinning her torso to the ground, it jerked back twice, scraping off her flesh with its teeth. Serith stole a glance back to the rope, and to his shock, saw a slimy, pitch colored hand reaching at him between the columns of the bannister. He started, ripping his hand away as it groped at him. It missed and slipped back, the hand and then a second coiling round a column and growing taut as one of the horned eels pulled itself up and over. It flipped out onto the bridge, somehow finding its footing on the stone beneath, a second and third following the moment after.

    Damn this! What now?!

    Serith was panicked. His force had fallen directly into an ambush, been cut down to half its size, and had now been bayed off from its objective; the enemy was receiving reinforcements, and counted among its numbers terrifying foe he had no answer for; he was down his weapon and wounded twice over. He cried.

    ¡°Flash! Flash!¡±

    Terlethe understood the order, smashing a second vial down on his rope, setting the ground ablaze with sticky, phlogistonated fluid. He made to lob a third but lost his arm in the process; the gray man had lurched toward him and bitten it off. The two were caught in the explosion, shrapnel and flesh splaying in all directions. Serith stepped back, then again, lost to his course.

    What in the name of the Gods do I do!? Do I pull back?! I have to!

    He stepped back one more time, planted his ruined hand on the banister and jumped onto it. With both feet on the railing and left hand on the column, he looked into the waters below and made to leap, before realizing the stupidity of the decision.

    No, the eels would just get me! Shit!

    Even if he were to swim as rapidly as he could, the horned eels were creatures of the water, and would undoubtedly catch him. His mind seized, taken by the cold fear that he wouldn¡¯t be able to escape this night. A noise came from behind, followed by a great bang as the near half of the drawbridge shuddered. He turned back and saw that the other rope had burned through, flaming end whipping off into the night.

    If I am to live, I need to get this bridge down.

    Serith looked to the right, the horned eels shambling toward him as best they could on land, interposed between him and the rope¡¯s downstroke. He traced the rope up to the pulley affixed to the top of the pillar he was now bracing against and snapped into action immediately, swapping his knife into his mouth and embracing the column. He got a grip and swung round the outside, getting the stonework between him and the enemy, then shimmied up. It was not slick, but the crag was smaller, the dredged cobble with fewer gaps and handholds.

    He reached his left hand up, trying to curl two fingers around a stone and failing, slipping with a spike of pain. Recognizing his hand was useless, he doubled his off arm back at the elbow, cleaving it to the wall and using it to break as he scrambled up with his right. With several strokes, he fought himself up a pace, then two. The gray man was lost in an agonized wail, rolling back and forth along the ground as fire burned both inside and out.  A sudden tug came from beneath, and he looked down to see that one of the eel creatures had caught his left leg. He did not kick; instead, he pulled himself up with all his force, lifting the creature off of its foothold. Its hand was too slick, and it slipped off, knocking both it and its compatriot behind it down into the water.

    He fought up, clearing distance from the ground faster than his lone pursuer could. Within another fifteen seconds, he crested the column, snatching the dagger from his mouth and setting it upon the rope, drawing it back and forth as fast as he could. The gray man cried again, leaping back onto his fours and scrambling toward the pillar. It planted one hand on the far side, then a second much too far up. Serith kept going, arm aflame. The gray man made another leap up, its distended hand grabbing both the pillar and remaining horned eel alike, crushing it in its grip. Serith stopped sawing, instead pulling his knife back and hacking at the rope with two empowered slashes in quick succession. With a fourth swing of its arms, the gray man¡¯s fingers crested the column.

    Serith slashed a third time and severed the rope. It snapped, flying away in both directions as the raised element lost its last support and fell back onto the river below. It struck with a great slam, and the gray man went to grip its head in pain. Then, from the right, came three streaking shards of light, spellfire from the mage of Headless Rabbit.

    ¡°Charge!¡±

    Serith looked to see another arrow fly, smashing into the gray man and disgorging bolts of lightning. It seized and fell back onto the bridge with a scream, smote by more spellfire and the blows of their frontlining brute. Before he knew, the thing fell in two, a sizzling as its midsection fell apart and spewed white smoke. The wizard raised his arm and shot up a flair into the night, not the white of the enemy¡¯s, but a verdant green.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (28)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

    The wizard blinked once and then nodded.

    ¡°We have the bridge.¡±

    The room burst into cheers, many of which were quickly stifled or hushed as the Magician Guild¡¯s master of ether-speech continued.

    ¡°Naga Scryers report two dead, one heavily wounded. They encountered aquatics.¡±

    Eh? Waterborne demons? No, I suppose that figures. Oh, blazes! Where is Yelta with that Dark Bestiary?!

    ¡°Mm, right. Tell Headless Rabbit and Helm of Yore to go on and assault the port; bring up Armor Slaked from reserve and have them reinforce.¡±

    ¡°Should they wait for Armor Slaked to arrive?¡±

    Renner shot a look to Helgrave - less out of necessity, more so to make him feel involved. As expected, he shook his head, Renner turning back to the guildmage.

    ¡°No, to lose initiative now would void what the Naga Scryers have given us. I¡¯d prefer not to spend time so early this evening- er, morning, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    The mage resumed communication, opening the palm of his hand as a way to indicate his use of the message spell. Renner, Guild Mistress Gilre, Archbishop Yilnac, Raeven¡¯s representative, the adventurer party Salted Ash, and the Palace defensive staff were all in Ro-Lante¡¯s strategy room, one given over to civic defense. They, along with a number of aids, were clustered around a map of the royal capital, one that had been set with little metal figurines as a representation of their forces and the enemy¡¯s in the city.

    ¡®Aquatics.¡¯ It¡¯s concerning that they have such specialized forces for such a specific defense. For the river alone? Or has some new lake sprung up from the ground too? I don¡¯t understand. The niches of adventurers are something inherent to the profession - all are skilled in different culling crafts - but for the fel, for them to have brought distinct specialists¡­ It indicates, at the very least, planning: tactical understanding; strategic competence; a mustering of resources tooth-to-tail. In a word, command.

    Renner was caught halfways between tumult and ecstasy, something she settled on calling madness. Whatever dispairs pressed in, there was a simple, base electricity to the moment. She was simply alone.

    Helgrave has his competencies in traditional martial matters, but hasn¡¯t the faintest idea when it comes to adventurers. Gilre, similarly, hasn¡¯t the blood and hasn¡¯t the cunning for politics. Zanac in a coordinating role sounds like the start of a bad joke, and Barbro the punchline; Zanac is an incompetent in matters of war, and Barbro similarly holds no share over adventurers or Raeven. Likewise, my dear Elias could never suborn the palace men.

    ¡°Contact. North Ro-Selethor. Axes of the Damned reports imps, gazers, and a great frog-like demon.¡±

    A great shuffling occurred at the wizard¡¯s words, more figurines being deposited on the battlemap and then shifted around. They were all much too ornate, cast from spelter and then gilt; worse, for the purposes of tonight, they were highly inaccurate: Baharuth force markers - stylized after those legionaries common a century ago - used in place of demons. With push sticks, those were set opposite Re-Estize¡¯s knights, which stood for adventurers.

    My father, being my father, would draw a line much too far back and hold it, losing the adventurers, who would then promptly kill themselves in their schemes. None of those listed have the ear of the commoner, the ear of the guardsman, and considering it is their duty to hold the line - rather, hold the attention of demons - it is better that they die with my name on their lips. So, duty falls to me. Only I may do this.

    ¡°Contact. South Utreno. Primary assault led by¡­ by Lady Aindra of the Blue Roses report Hellhounds.¡±

    Renner held in a grimace. It was a predictable move from Lakyus; though she was charged with commanding that assault, the wizard¡¯s stumbling over and the wording of ¡°led¡± made it clear enough that she was engaging in combat directly. Gilre picked up on the same, and the two women shared a tired look with one another.

    This is why she is under additional guard. She is a hero. She is wont to heroics. Wont, yes, but wanton? No point in frustration. This was an inevitability.

    ¡°Contact. North Utreno. Avoidant Cause reports the presence of imps, quazits, gazers, and a tall demon of some strange variety.¡±

    I cannot help but dwell on my dog. At the pace of advance, surely he¡¯s encountered a fel thing already. Has he already been given over to a violent end? A body to find and mourn? It will be a difficult performance. I¡¯ll struggle to make convincing words of self-loathing and apology, doubly so to cry. Nor will I have an easy go of it shedding said lamentations to deal with the aftermath of this night. How am I to handle Stronoff and Unglaus? Another difficulty. Perhaps I could make them believe-

    ¡°Contact- Two Contacts. South Ro-Selethor and Central Windlen. Imps, quazits, gazers, hellhounds at- demons of the common and greater clades, in both- Contact. Getha. Demons of all varieties in all three locations.¡±

    The shuffling of the table turned into an outright scramble, dozens of figurines being placed all at once.

    It seems like the enemy has seen fit to reveal themselves. Somewhere, out beyond these walls, there is a great deal of death to be done; death which is to be done on my accord, and that of my enemy. Pray tell, Chardelon, what else lurks within?

    ¡ª

    ¡°Contact. Bane of Worm reports assault from- right flank.¡±

    A little of the moment¡¯s tension bled off, Renner letting out a breath she hadn¡¯t recognized she was holding in.

    They¡¯re engaging.

    The initial assault was a positional gambit. While the roads could be reliably marked as infested or clear, the enemy was lodged deep within the crowded narrows between buildings. With most of lesser stature than men and accustomed to vertical movement, such impediments could be freely navigated by the enemy. With terrain of that type making over two-thirds the area within the circle, the enemy possessed an overwhelming advantage in the sorts of tactics they could employ in an urban environment.

    ¡°Encounter? Or-¡±

    ¡°No, enemy breakout.¡±

    A traditional dislodgement would have meant the forces of man entered on a unified spearpoint, thus providing the enemy the unrestricted ability to reposition its forces. The brutish demons could be concentrated to blunt the head of the assault, and sleuthy kinds would have unimpaired access to flanks throughout the entire assault. Any attempt to destroy the flanking elements would be met with simple retreat, creatures simply hopping out of windows into adjacent structures. It would be a slow, drawn-out fight that could stretch for days, and while a mortal foe would eventually tire, exhausting themselves of food, drink, and supply, the same could not be said for the fel. Thus, Renner had taken it upon herself to counter this.

    They''ve blinked. They care more about the preservation of their forces than giving us additional targets. My earlier suppositions were correct.

    No tactic sans razing the terrain could void the enemy¡¯s affinity for it, however, what advantages the cityscape provided could be nullified. Assaulting many places at once did not change the basic pace of battle - blunted ends were still blunted ends and flanking assaults were still flanking assaults - however, these individual penetrations could be linked, with parties getting perhaps twenty paces in and then turning left or right down tangential paths to meet with other parties ere their advance inward. In this way, Renner guaranteed a dozen encirclements, fracturing the landscape with a ring of adventurers and solid columns of city guard. These fractures could then be cleared at leisure by reserve forces sent door-to-door.

    ¡°Tell them to hold fast; prevent any flight from that cluster. Have Crimson Circle brought up and prepare them for door-knocking.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    Now, Chardelon, how could what I have said be incorrect?

    Renner gave a sidelong look to the battlemap, watching yet more figures be placed down. The revelation that the night likely had something to do with her - no matter how delusional such a revelation was - had yet to show itself untrue. She had somehow missed all signs of an imminent demonic invasion; worse, she had been the most likely to predict it. Thus, Renner held out her thoughts and turned them over.

    Were I given the option, against a thorough opponent, I would do exactly this, yet leave some forces to spring at the moment of maximum chaos; I would do so at the place of maximum value to me, at the time of maximum value. The question then becomes: will they use this to harry us or to route us? It hinges upon how valuable Jaldabaoth finds his forces. If he can spend them to destroy us, would he do so?

    Renner cocked her head a little further, giving an inner shrug.

    Well, I would.

    Gilre cast a level gaze at Renner, speaking up a moment later.

    ¡°They¡¯re choosing to flee.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    ¡°Did we outmaneuver them?¡±

    Helgrave¡¯s question was typical of a military man still lost in the framework of field battles, Renner clicking her tongue as she searched for a response.

    ¡°This may be their foreknowledge or not; while of concern, there are more pressing points here. They have a habit of slaking themselves whenever possible- or perhaps sating. Ah, forgive me for speaking of brutal things so easily. It¡¯s unbecoming of a princess.¡±

    Gilre raised an eyebrow in exasperation.

    ¡°Tonight is unbecoming in general, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Mm, maybe so. Either way, that they are attempting a breakout rather than something more cunning is, in a way, concerning.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°What could be worth giving up a slaughter?¡±

    ¡ª

    ¡°Report. Windlen and Getha have met.¡±

    The enemy should be striking now. The alert will reach us in about a half a minute¡¯s time.

    Time would only move exactly as fast as it was wont to: seconds would take seconds, minutes would take minutes, hours would take hours. This was doubly inconvenient tonight, leading to much too long draws between much too short moments of action.

    ¡°Only have one linkup left.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    Helgrave¡¯s comment was pointless, merely filler words intended to relieve tension. The room was near silent, everyone breathlessly anticipating the mage¡¯s next words.

    ¡°Contact. Enemy assaulting the linkup point between Windlen and Getha.¡±

    Since the first encounter, each meeting of the fronts was met with regular, fierce resistance by the encircled demons, strikes which came with fantastic precision and regularity. Most came not more than thirty seconds later, and struck at exactly the point of meeting, fiends crawling out of whatever narrows necessary to hit just that point.

    ¡°Disquieting.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Sir Helgrave. Tell me. How are they consistently arriving at the linkup points so soon after we are? Freedom of movement?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the adventurer. Haven¡¯t you dealt with such things before?¡±

    ¡°My career never set me against demons. Still, I suppose it makes the most sense.¡±

    ¡°That, or they¡¯ve already scryed the path of our advance.¡±

    Renner¡¯s interjection snapped both to her, neither seeming to find words in response. That the enemy would have predicted the course of battle so far seemed, to her, the simplest explanation. Parties of adventurers could only move so fast, and the way obstacles would slow them also seemed predictable. The enemy¡¯s early break for the first encounter was simply a fluke; now, their retreats were rigid and organized. That they were striking at the hardest point - those spots where two parties were standing simultaneously -  confirmed to Renner that their objective was to not simply to delay the dislodgement, but to slay all those who threatened it;  an admission from the enemy that it¡¯s forces were as disposable to it as hers were to her.

    Their tactic- ah, ¡®their¡¯ is a misnomer, his tactic is designed to kill, but why? For me, the permanent allay of the demon threat is desirable, and thus the unrecoverable expenditure of men is correct, but for him? Why bear the extra cost for complete destruction? Shouldn¡¯t the taking of an object of power be just that, a taking? I haven¡¯t an idea for why he¡¯s doing this. Not to mention the matter of the circle itself.

    Gilre suddenly spoke up, snapping Renner from her brooding.

    ¡°We should switch routes.¡±

    Why?

    ¡°Eh? What would that do?¡±

    ¡°We would avoid-¡±

    ¡°Not- not that, Guild Mistress. Her Highness is running ahead of us.¡±

    Ah, we¡¯re building a rapport. How wonderful. Helgrave seems to have some understanding. Probe him.

    ¡°Mm. Apologies, I was vague. If I could trouble you to explain, Sir Helgrave.¡±

    He gave a slight nod, before launching into an explanation.

    ¡°If they can predict our path of advance, abandoning it would be predicted, and they would likely have a counter assault in place. Correct, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Not quite my thoughts, but yes. Not to say the enemy predicted this, mind you, that was merely a suggestion. Rather, any such future-sight on their part would be indistinguishable from actual dynamism, in which case-¡±

    ¡°Abandoning our plans would only put us at more risk.¡±

    Renner stifled a laugh at Gilre¡¯s interruption, this mostly for the way Helgrave jerked.

    ¡°Exactly. We would toss out an advantage of ours for no gain. They would be acting just as they had before, but we would be without framework.¡±

    ¡°I guess¡­ er, I suppose that¡¯s correct, Your Highness, I just don¡¯t like the enemy knowing what we¡¯re doing.¡±

    I¡¯d much rather they know than we don¡¯t.

    ¡°Report. Ro-Selethor and Utreno linked.¡±

    Ah, so comes phase three.

    ¡ª

    Thunder shattered the night, the noise slipping in through the walls and startling Renner.

    Mm, this will jump me all evening, won¡¯t it?

    ¡°Readjust north-northeast twelve paces. Strike.¡±

    The words came from an older woman off to the side, donned in heavy robes and a blindfold. She zealously kept a staff in her dexter hand, while her off was placed on the shoulder of another elder, one of three who had locked hands around a glass orb at the center of a small table. A flat disc of radiant light apparated; it was centered on and perfectly bisecting the glass ball. Auxiliary rings appeared above, spaced at inconsistent yet magically significant intervals. Motes of arcane light spilled into the air, words forming then collapsing, the visible expression of the spell all at once vanishing with nothing but a hum. The response from the blind woman was immediate.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Overshot. Readjust dead south two paces. Strike.¡±

    Another hum; another few seconds of silence; another crack of thunder.

    ¡°Hit. Perform battery.¡±

    Another ring unfurled, this one much more intricate than the previous, its layers stacked thrice as high. It shifted, shedding words yet not collapsing, and instead moving to shift again. Another boom rang through the night; then, with a few seconds lag, came a rolling crash, each burst from the night happening half a second after the other. By the eleventh boom, the woman again spoke.

    ¡°Destroyed.¡±

    The woman - the team''s diviner - spoke coolly, though with a sly smile, doubling over the instant after and emptying her stomach bile into a pre-positioned bucket. The ring shattered, falling apart into a shower of light onto the wizards at the table, though the booms continued for another three seconds to eventually total seventeen. Their target had been a demonic goliath identified by the Seekers of Sfeiz, one they had managed to pin through a masterful example of adventurecraft. Renner gave a warm smile, speaking to the party¡¯s leader.

    ¡°Excellent work, Thaumaturge Agnamen.¡±

    Though registered as adventurers, wizard circle Salted Ash specialized in this sort of work alone, remote spellfire a rare discipline exclusively in their domain.

    ¡°We can perhaps manage eighty bolts more, and I another ten.¡±

    ¡°Mm, whatever you think you¡¯re capable of, though this night may drag on longer than another ninety bolts.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully not.¡±

    Renner had no desire to engage such a tepid response, instead turning back to the map to catch the giant¡¯s figure being removed and the northern front move inward.

    ¡°Report. Probing attack by demons of common varieties along the west front. Copper Washout engaging.¡±

    Growing resistance, but that¡¯s to be expected. These probing attacks, prodding us until we let slip a fold in our lines. How many of these ¡®heavy¡¯ demons have we slain now? Five? Is that even a meaningful figure? Likely not.

    Renner¡¯s thoughts trailed off into her unshakable unease, a general sense that she was missing the point. Jaldabaoth¡¯s plot had become no less indecipherable, and the enemy¡¯s behavior remained frustratingly impossible to judge.

    I can¡¯t understand why they drew a circle and stuck to it. Some limitation of their interlope from the netherworld? Then how were they able to move against the Eight Fingers sites? No, that can¡¯t be the case; if it was, why would they not move against these other places in silence? We were surely beaten to every place we attempted to raid, why not go on in silence and strike the rest? Why a protracted countersiege? Why the turmoil? Why the chaos? Why am I asking questions to a fiend as if he¡¯ll step out of the black and answer me? Who knows, he might.

    After another moment of lag, Renner¡¯s mood snapped.

    I dislike this.

    ¡°I dislike this.¡±

    I¡¯m taking the initiative.

    ¡°I wish to take the initiative.¡±

    If his lines won¡¯t buckle, mine will. I¡¯m forcing an overextension.

    ¡°I want to buckle his lines. Force our way through.¡±

    Her sudden pronouncement caught the chamber¡¯s attention; almost everyone present snapped to her. Helgrave rapped his fingers against the tabletop, before lifting them off, crossing his arms, and raising an eyebrow.

    "How so, Your Highness?"

    Distract us, give them opportunity for an ambush, a sudden push from both directions. The sides of the northern advance have yet to be cleared. Oh, my dearest Jaldabaoth, Chardelon beseeches you: please have left ambushers in the Windlen warrens. Surely you were wise enough to do that? I¡¯ll even go out of my way to throw away my responses. I¡¯ll make it clear I have no reserves, nor supporting elements. Then, when you break on through, I¡¯ll send Darkness in exactly the way I oughtn¡¯t to.

    "Where are our flying units?¡±

    ¡°Nine-Thousand and One is returning from a sortie, Sandshrike¡¯s Company and Sisters of Fury are currently alight.¡±

    ¡°Bring to bear the latter two and send them along the path of Lakyus¡¯s advance in sequence. Free reign to select targets. When Nine-Thousand and One restore themselves, send them after to handle the rooftop combat. We¡¯ll give that advance priority. Dread enemies get rent by spell battery. Further, we call up our reserves to cover the flanks we create; send up Forward Spear and Slow Heat. I want to slash their lines and send Master Momon barreling through.¡±

    ¡°Why the urgency? Wasn¡¯t the point of this advance to be as conservative as possible?¡±

    Something initially synonymous with caution. But that is no longer the case. We have had our taste of fel flesh, and I am hungry for it. Ah, a key point. When Lakyus strikes, the odds of the enemy absorbing that too is high. He will have planned for a less clever panic, some conniving trap for a wild strike forward, rather than just a counterattack. There¡¯s one solution for that, something I ought to do now.

    ¡°Giving the enemy slack without cause is not ¡®conservation¡¯, it¡¯s sloth. There are thousands within those flames, and every minute we let pass the lesser the likelihood is of¡­ of them¡­ returning to us. I have no desire to do-good the dead.¡±

    ¡ª

    Renner rushed a little faster than she ought to, stepping into the throne room a bit too hastily for a princess. She regimented her step a second later, quickly replacing what hair had fallen out of place as she strode in. An uncomfortable quiet reigned, her father¡¯s very presence here seeming at the least misguided.

    What does it say about our kingdom, our house, that he would do this? This court is a bad joke. Gods above, it¡¯s so- so frightfully boyish! My father, such a pathetic little thing, knows a crisis is afoot, a travesty abounding the take of our forefathers of the same nature that they felt; and yet, bound by all the bladed minutia of the day, he is so tangled as to do nothing. But it is unbecoming for a king to hide in his quarters while his people are being slaughtered, led onto the stake or the pit or the letting-pools or whatever other fiendish contrivances our enemies have wrought. So what does my father, king of a land greater than all those near, presider over a grander people and polity than any other in the realms of men do? Why, he creeps out of his drawing room and finds his way to the throne, and it is on that spot that he sits and fears for his country. Pathetic.

    ¡°Father, I wish a word in private. Captain Stronoff, you may stay.¡±

    He silently acceded, nodding and waving his hand in a meandering way without comment. The rest of the room, representatives from the Royal faction and a few others, made to move. The only two exceptions were the Warrior-Captain and her brother, who had enthroned himself besides her father. He sat tacitly, head resting on his elbow in a way that made him look more childish than brooding. Ramposa turned to him, a look of agitation in his eyes. Barbro jerked a little in his chair, raising upward to give his father a sidelong look.

    ¡°You can¡¯t ask that I go.¡±

    ¡°Brother¡­¡±

    If my father is a boy, then what is he? Ah, the metaphor falls apart. I¡¯m a failure of a tragedian.

    Renner let her response tail off, waiting for the rest of the servants to exit the room as she crossed the floor to arrive at the dais. She ascended it swiftly, timing her arrival at the top with the door to the side room latching shut. Barbro snapped first.

    "You can''t ask that I go!"

    Perhaps¡­ it would be prudent to show a little of my rage. A little anger, though a little off-target.

    ¡°Ield, I have no time for your perfidious offense.¡±

    ¡°Perfidious?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    Ramposa stayed silent, avoiding the gaze of both to bear his eyes into the distance. Barbro looked to his father in need, but summoned no reaction, turning back to Renner completely unsupported.

    ¡°You dare-¡±

    ¡°I do dare! Now spare us your impropriety and speak no more!¡±

    If I could, I would take up the craft of sewing and run needles through your lips like a village craftswoman, stitching them shut with iron fiber.

    ¡°You need to learn your place-¡±

    ¡°So teach it! Strike me again, like you did that night, and then do so again, and again! Maybe then I¡¯ll have a clearer picture of my place as a sister! I promise you, brother-¡¯dearest¡¯, that I will not degenerate into the simpering mess you saw then. That I learned more that night about the nature of death, the nature of the beyond, and about your ¡®nature¡¯ than I have ever before. I am twice the woman I was then! Now, out with you!¡±

    Barbro¡¯s face twitched, snapping back between her and her father twice, before settling on him. Ramposa gave a heavy sigh, responding without bothering to look at his son.

    ¡°You would not force an old man from his chair, would you?¡±

    Barbro quivered a little further, before stamping up and marching out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. Heavy looks found their ways onto the faces of both men, but Renner simply ignored them.

    ¡°Father. I need to ask something of you.¡±

    ¡°I would make you queen were I given the chance.¡±

    Drive not the knife home, would you?

    ¡°You did not speak that, and neither I nor Captain Stronoff did hear it, correct?¡±

    Gazef lagged for a moment, before shaking his head. Ramposa sighed again.

    ¡°So it is¡­ What is your question, my daughter?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ understand the tenor of our politics prevents you from sending your forces away from the palace. Those lords aligned with House Vaiself fearful of a second Black Night.¡±

    ¡°Mm, yes.¡±

    ¡°But I fear this battle will heat in such a way that the forces which I have rallied will not¡­ no, cannot win it.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°The enemy lays ready to spring. I fear whomever they choose to do so upon will be caught wholly by them and dragged back down into the ground. Father, I¡­¡±

    Ah, this is difficult to say.

    ¡°You did not make such a commotion only to hesitate speaking something improper, did you?¡±

    ¡°Quite¡­ Oh Gods, forgive me for this.¡±

    ¡°Chardelon, I fear you are about to say something rash.¡±

    ¡°Take to the streets! If you do, you could have the whole of the palace¡¯s men by your side.¡±

    Gazef¡¯s eyes went wide, along with a half hewn chuckle from Ramposa.

    ¡°Myself?¡±

    ¡°In house armor; nay, even the treasures!¡±

    ¡°With Gazef by my side?¡±

    ¡°Aye! The whole of the warrior band, and all those forces not currently under the brother.¡±

    ¡°And Ro-Lante?¡±

    ¡°The fortress tends to itself! Were any black power to come out of the night to snatch me, my brother-¡±

    ¡°Speak no more.¡±

    Ramposa held up a staying hand, Renner letting her voice die. He sat silently on the throne for a time, making little motion, with only the sound of measured breathing to mark the passage of time.

    ¡°You really have spent too much time around adventurers, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°An accusation I cannot deny.¡±

    ¡°Gazef.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your Majesty?¡±

    ¡°Are you to protect this lifeless city, or me?¡±

    ¡°You, your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Muster.¡±

    ¡°Sire.¡±

    Gazef snapped his heels, bowed, and rushed off to exit the room. Renner followed after, but found herself caught in Ramposa¡¯s grasp.

    ¡°Come a dawn without me, know that I meant my words.¡±

    ¡°Oughtn¡¯t it be the daughter indulging herself?¡±

    ¡ª

    A hard look came over the eyes of the wizard as he was downing a vial of tonic, his exhaustion having dragged him down into his chair. Emptying the bottle with a thorough lick of its neck, he wiped his puckered lips with the back of his hand before handing it off to Pharmaturge Jund and speaking.

    ¡°Report. Tallow and Vellum destroyed. Seekers of Sfeiz, Crimson Scorpion, Obsidian Rose retreating.¡±

    Turbid silence, no one quite clear on what to say. Renner slowly exhaled, then folded forward onto the table, buttressing herself with her elbows.

    ¡°Blazes.¡±

    It was a whisper, a low, steady admission that she had failed. It was - as was her wont - completely false. Renner was elated, her scheme having worked exactly as she desired.

    I did it. I compelled a demon to reveal its secrets. How many can say that they¡¯ve done such a thing?

    After a few more seconds of lag, Renner steadily drew herself up, admiring the shape of the map, and how she had forcibly recast it. The assault in Windlen had come from all directions: a dozen of the heavy clade having trundled on in the front; a surprise attack from behind of men-like-things with writhing vitality rather than heads; an air assault that included many gazers as well as a drake whose body had been rendered from rusted iron plates. That had been destroyed with the timely use of lightning, but the rest had fought on, and now had apparently forced a retreat. Then, as she had predicted, a grand counterattack had come against Lakyus, something soon to be countered by her father¡¯s force. She felt little else than amazement, having been able to manipulate the enemy into striking exactly where she desired.

    Jaldabaoth has spent himself there. Ah, this moment is pregnant. Fake a little more regret, then seal this.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would come so quick. And these ambushers of theirs! I had figured their retreat was legitimate. How could I be so daft? Helgrave, do you have any wisdom to proffer?¡±

    ¡°If both sides attack, one is wrong.¡±

    ¡°Mm¡­ Then we just need to ensure that we¡¯re not.¡±

    Renner raised her voice, letting it echo throughout the chamber.

    ¡°Bring up Darkness, we¡¯re sending them in from the north.¡±

    ¡°The north?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve routed us, yes, but fulfilled a condition of our objective: stretch their lines. They can¡¯t merely ignore Rockpox and the Unlovables. They will shed to either side, and even if they bring to bear their reserves, we have a precious twip. We send him in that way, and we do so now!¡±

    Renner shot her gaze to the wizard.

    ¡°Inform them-¡±

    ¡°Done, confirm receipt.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re moving now. Evileye estimates two minutes.¡±

    Say what you will about her. At least she can use her magics to that end. How long until my father arrives? Perhaps ten? Aye. Something to that effect. Momon will slip on through, and the enemy will be met with a renewed assault; their encirclement will itself be bitten in two. Have I adequately feigned weakness? Let me hope so.

    ¡°The guards are fighting, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    Renner let her eyes drift off to the right, setting on Gilre. The Guild Mistress had a hard look on her face, her low, quiet words not observational, but accusatory. She stared unblinkingly at the map, Renner catching the slight movements of her lips as she counted some figure.

    The number engaged. The tactful thing would be to take blame. Yes¡­ yes, I¡¯ll do that.

    ¡°A decision that lies with me. All things well to be.¡±

    ¡°What? Left alone? Isn¡¯t that a little callous?¡±

    This is what I don¡¯t understand. Would she rather lose more valuable elements, lock up more of the other forces? It¡¯s not even heroism, it¡¯s just idiocy. The lives of the cityguard matter less than adventurers. The loss of one means the destruction of city seniority, yes, and perhaps long term issues with the efficacy of the organization, but that is not why she is concerned. She is simply whining for no cause at all. It¡¯s almost funny.

    ¡°Watch your tone, and remember whom you¡¯re speaking to.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Helgrave. My decision, Gilre. Think no more of it.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I have no desire to continue this much longer. Just daze her, then guilt her.

    ¡°Eight hundred.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Eight hundred. For every adventurer out there tonight, there are little more than five guardsmen - eight hundred or thereabouts in total. That¡¯s what you were tallying, right?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes.¡±

    ¡°While adventurers divest themselves of home and so forth, the same cannot be said for the City Guard. Of those, there are thousands more who know them, and tens of thousands acquainted. If you think I am not uniquely aware of that fact, then I fear you misunderstand me. Need I say more?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then, as I asked, think no more-¡±

    ¡°Contact. Heavy demons. Lakyus¡¯s assault. Several of the frog kin, and the four armed brutes. Direction¡­ south southeast!¡±

    The encirclement is nearly complete then. The critical moment comes.

    ¡°How soon until my father arrives?¡±

    ¡°No more than five minutes. He should- Report! From the north front, Darkness is away!¡±

    More cheers came, Renner letting a little of herself slip in joining them.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Report- many reports! Earthquake! Number of structures toppled, casualties in a number of locations.¡±

    Renner lurched in place, reflexively looking around, and then above and below. Leveling her gaze, she saw many doing the same, tracking the positions of objects or the levelness of water in glasses. Miffed, Raeven¡¯s adjutant gave an exasperated wave of the hand.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t feel a thing.¡±

    Nor did I. What- what was this? Magic, maybe?

    ¡°Gilre, what could this be?¡±

    ¡°I- I have no idea.¡±

    She hasn¡¯t encountered this before, how queer. What now?

    Renner looked to Salted Ash. The four wizards were much worse for wear, the scryer¡¯s blindfold having been soaked with so much blood that her face was smeared with the stuff, the rest having lost the same from their mouths and hands.

    ¡°Agnamen! Could such a thing be the work of magic!¡±

    He broke into a coughing fit, spewing bloody phlegm into a handkerchief before speaking.

    ¡°Not by any means I know. But surely if it was a natural thing, we¡¯d have felt it here.¡±

    Something underground, maybe? Or some terrifying magic that could replicate such destruction over a wide area? Either way, this bodes ill. Probe these two.

    ¡°Is something moving in the earth?¡±

    ¡°Mayhaps, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°What- what if this is what Terminal End encountered earlier. They reported a shaking of the earth when they ran ahead. I believe we dismissed it as the enemy moving near, but this¡­¡±

    Renner¡¯s voice died, mentally tabulating radii of effect in her mind. This was to little end, she silently chiding herself as she realized she had not bothered to remember the specific positions of adventurer parties when the original event occurred. Combat had doubled its ferocity, almost every party on the frontline directly involved in the melee. Her father¡¯s arrival - though it had saved Lakyus¡¯s advance - seemed to have spurred this, an unending swarm of lesser demons slipping out every which way, followed soon after by gazers and beetles whenever a gap was discovered. In that chaos, she had simply failed to give it the thought.

    I thought it meant nothing at the time. Well, not nothing, rather that it was another queerness in a night of queernesses. How could I have thought to track that? Agh, a matter, but one we can¡¯t resolve. We are so close to the breaking point.

    ¡°Do we have any reports of casualties?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, among Hither Wither and Spear Forward.¡±

    They were clearing structures, to wit, they were inside. Likely pinned. Good that they were the only ones endangered.

    ¡°Then issue the order to continue our advance!¡±

    ¡°Understood! Copper Washout requests support, at the junction a block south from Gedya, they say they identified and pinned a- a multi-limbed brute to the east.¡±

    The wizards silently nodded, the scryer righting herself and issuing another cast; a spurt of spittle leaked from her mouth.

    ¡°Strike.¡±

    The circle again returned, and another bout of thunder rocked the space, the sky stammering another twelve times before the scryer simply collapsed onto the floor; the aged wizards at the table in various states of distress. Agnamen lost a little more vitality from his mouth, speaking in a hoarse tone.

    ¡°One-hundred fifty in a day. I never knew myself capable.¡±

    ¡°Report! Enemy destroyed. Blue Roses advancing! Palace forces advancing!¡±

    ¡°Yes-¡±

    ¡°Yes-¡±

    ¡°Alright-¡±

    ¡°Wonderful!¡±

    The chamber¡¯s jubilation was instinctual, sharp cries going up from all. Renner excitedly threw her first in the air; Gilre and Helgrave made similar pumps. She felt charged, the stress of the night having seemed so near to release as to drive her to agony. She danced on her feet, pulling one heel up from the ground and then the other, in uncertain sways back and forth as she braced herself against the battlemap. Helgrave snatched the push stick from his adjutant¡¯s hands, instead making to rearranging the figures himself. The Guild Mistress excitedly whispered under her breath.

    ¡°We almost have them!¡±

    Indeed we do. How close we are now. We¡¯ve broken through. We¡¯ve broken through! Almost to the square! Even if Jaldabaoth has yet to be vanquished, with us would so tightly around his forces, it prevents any attempt to fulfill his objective. Why, they must be packed wall to wall in there, backed against their take and- pray tell, where are the people?

    It was a dread question, one that had been easy to delay considering until now. When the warehouses near the port had been found empty, the held assumption was that many of those kept were deep behind the enemy front. As the city was taken back bite by bite, only signs of conflict had revealed themselves, not legions of the imprisoned.

    Before the blaze went up, there were thousands inside its dimensions, perhaps scraping ten thousand. Where are they? They were not bloodlet, were they? There were no reports of such. Are we to turn the corner into a grand horror? Perhaps, and perhaps then our morale will break, as will our forces under there, and all the city will be awash in demons and the spillings of those which they have gored. His stated objective, then, a lie.

    Query. Why a lodgement? To search an area in depth without disturbance; or in the negative, to do better than would a secret search with more stealthy elements. Query? Under what circumstances, what¡­ continual condition would a lodgement be kept? That the item had not been found. Why hasn¡¯t he fled yet? If his forces ripped through every home, and took out every man, woman, and child so completely, then how have they not found an object of power? Surely such a thing can¡¯t be topped.

    This doesn¡¯t make sense. This doesn¡¯t make any sense at all. Any prudent strategist would have retreated by now. He can¡¯t possibly still expect to find what he has spent the last five hours not finding. The item is a lie, but an obvious one, and in that way it seems truth lies within. What is the purpose of this, then? This makes no sense! His strategy seems completely divorced from it! I feel baffled, so utterly baffled. Was it the stealing of the people? In that case, hasn''t that already been done? The taking of wealth? Of treasure? I must ask the same question again and again. They had perhaps a full three free hours of ransacking, maybe more. The dedicated destruction of adventurers makes no sense in such a framework, however. Any limited objective - retrieval, acquisition, mayhem - need not require that.

    Renner cocked her head.

    Unless the objective is not limited.

    She stilled herself, then, unconsciously, began to round the table, slowly sidestepping and watching the figures upon it parallax.

    Some larger scheme. Something worse. A conspiracy, or a grand plot. I suppose, then, a lodgement would make sense. A followup siege? Invasion, not simply a front in a city but full and proper? All this to take the spear of the kingdom, blunt it, and then thrash its wielder? Had he such ability, then surely such an effort would not be necessary at all. No. No, this is something greater.

    Renner finally stopped, catching the map at the angle directly in line with Lakyus¡¯s advance. She traced it up with her eyes, looking at all the little marks that had been made thus far to the culminating position, the penultimate juncture before Geyda square. Shifting her eyes to the left, she caught Copper Washout¡¯s reposition to the east, and then, a little further behind, saw Hither Wither embedded deep within a warren that, because of the earthquake, no longer existed. A sudden terror washed over her as she realized there was a gap in the line.

    ¡°Report! We have eyes on the square!¡±

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (29)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

    Lakyus dashed overtop the collapsed home, ascending along its skewed crest and leaping into the square below. Pointing Kilineiram down, she sank it through the head and into the chest of a ram-headed demon, riding it to the ground. Letting herself roll off, she ripped the blade from its head, slashing wildly to lop off the head of another, carrying her momentum and driving through a third. Planting her foot firmly around and whipping the ailing fiend around, she caught three rusty spear points thrust by its fellows. Before they could pull away and strike again, the ram-men were all at once caught in a conflagration, the demons set aflame in a great explosion. Lakyus let herself fall to her knee, sheltering herself behind the skewered demon and her blades  - embedding in the ground in two walls three a piece - the flames breaking around her. After a moment, Lakyus rose, letting the sizzling creature slide off her blade; she caught the next rain of fireballs, pummeling the crowd and blowing apart a dozen demons more. Great spurts of debris sent up rained down, revealing yet more horned heads and hooved feet beyond. There were hundreds.

    Gazers, another two of the gray men, a brass devil-drake, imp murder, quazit swarms, chasme horde- damn, another one of those scaled creatures. Still, not many of the heavy demons left.

    Then, all around her, came her comrades. Tina fell to the left, then Tia and Gagaran to the right, and then beyond them to either side were the front liners of the other parties in her assault. Lakyus raised her sword, booming her voice as loud as she could.

    ¡°Everyone select targets! Gazef, the scale demon! Blue Roses, the drake!¡±

    ¡°Got it!¡±

    ¡°Check!¡±

    ¡°Understood!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Responses came from near and far, more of her fellows entering along her flanks. They were winning, having pushed the demons back to their final line. The surprise arrival of Gazef, alongside a refreshed rearguard of Valencia¡¯s men-at-arms, had tipped the battle, the whole of the forces of men having swept to the core of the flame, Geyda square. In the chaos, it had lost its form, its proper dimensions ruined thrice over by demons, a mundane blaze, and then the sudden shaking of the earth. Around its center for nearly thirty paces in every direction, the city was in ruin, buildings toppled or burnt out. Why demons still clung to its bounds was unknown to Lakyus, the enemy seeming to have cleared some of the rubble for the purposes of defense; further, while their line spanned its edge, there was a wide gap in their center, something she did not have the height to fully reckon. On the far side of the square was another bespoke plaza, Darkness and Evileye engaging the enemy command somewhere in the city beyond that. She raised her off hand to the sky, reading her blade as she began to pray.

    ¡°He of the Sweeping Tide, I fall on my knees by the side of your waters to speak my prayer and render unto I and those by my side your dearly desired aid.¡±

    A circle appeared centered in her raised hand, holy script writ in its layers. More leapt into the square, melee fighters leaping down from buildings or slipping through what remained of chance alleyways. Other party members perched on half collapsed structures, loosing or firing onto the space below.

    ¡°He of the Froth of the Spray, render unto I and my companions the strength to vanquish the taint that lies before us!¡±

    The circle pulsed once, a ripple of light shooting out with a ring. The world seemed to slow, then speed again, the aches in her joints suddenly losing their sting as her body limbered and her stride became longer. She increased to a jogging pace, drawing forth her blades to knock a few scant bolts loosed her way. A pair of explosions thundered to her left, the last of a barricade manned by the beetle demons scattered into their square as more of the guild¡¯s forces poured through, along with three lances of horseback knights bolstered with men from the church.

    ¡°He of the Vaulting Froth, render unto I and my companions the diligence and the zeal to run down and destroy those foul things which exist in defiance of your will.¡±

    The world again slowed and sped, her senses opening as the enemy seemed to gain an especial prominence in her vision, vulnerable features standing from the night. She broke into a flat dash, lowered her hand as she picked out one of the gray men interposed between her and the drake. Extending a finger, she marked it.

    ¡°He of the Brackish Marsh, render unto I the power to deal this thing death.¡±

    The gray man charged, and she met its lumber with a swift arc of the sword, splitting it in half down its length. Its insides spontaneously set aflame, drowning her in radiant white and ridding the square of night. She kept moving, rushing through the acrid white smoke and through the line of demons into the empty space in the center of their last stand. Some dared turn their heads, yet were then harried by fire from on high; fewer were the rams or beetles foolish enough to reposition their shields, losing their lives for the act. Lakyus shot a glance to the right, seeing that Gazef had done much the same as her, having already breached his portion and set upon the winged, bare-skulled hulk. A moment later, her party came rushing up, Lakyus finishing out her prayer.

    ¡°He of the Torrential Rain, I thank you for the aid which you have already given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until we too join that which we have cleansed tonight.¡±

    ¡°We ready, Boss?¡±

    ¡°How do we want to take this, Fiendish leader?¡±

    Neither of you two need to be here, you know?

    Despite the moment, Lakyus smiled. Both Gagaran and Tia were stretching themselves beyond any reasonable limit, both pale and soaked in sweat. Not just a base ailment that could be cured with a simple healing spell, resurrection sickness was a condition all unto itself. It not only taxed the body, but the spirit, He of the Dust and Diamond returning the beneficiaries of his grace with only some of their strength, leaving them both physically weaker and lesser in their ability to perform feats. Anyone, no matter how mighty, would be bedridden from such magic; even the pair walking in kit would be absurd, far be it from fighting. Lakyus flicked her eyes to Gagaran, meeting a fierce yet exhausted gaze.

    ¡°You¡¯re the wyvern hunter. What do we do?¡±

    Gagaran gave a breathy chuckle, turning to the drake.

    ¡°Pin it. Go for the neck.¡±

    Simple enough.

    Lakyus spun on the spot and advanced, serving as the vanguard to her three fellow Blue Roses. The iron-drake, having been scurrying round at the base of the hump, spotted the lot and began to buck, kicking up the earth with its hind legs as it slithered and snapped. In place of scale, its body was hewn from rusted iron plates, shards the three handspans long and one across layering across one another to give the impression of a wyrm¡¯s form.

    ¡°Tia, Gagaran, keep any stragglers off of us! Tina, with me!¡±

    The women split apart, the sickly pair stopping and turning around to keep any other fiends from interfering in their kill, Tina beginning to circle the thing to the left

    Not a dragon proper, so no forelegs. Get right up close and gore its neck.

    Lakyus broke forward, dashing toward the monster in a two handed stance. It flapped up onto its haunches, whipping its head up and unfurling its wings with a cavernous shriek. It flapped once, then twice, billowing its wings of the rusted-iron plate, though slickened with some pitch colored substance that dripped onto the ground. It fell forward, curving its neck up and then down again to act as a spout, before opening it and unleashing a plume of dirty flame. Lakyus interposed her blades, but they were not tight enough, and she yelped as jets made it through the curtain to roast her.

    Dammit!

    Closing her eye from the sudden heat, she stumbled back a step, before breaking to the right and rolling out. The creature¡¯s gush slowed, then flamed out with one final spew of a black mist. On her upswing, a little of the ichor splashed overtop her brow; hot and viscous to the touch, smelling sulfurous and yet sweet at the same time. It rolled down her face, a sharp pain when it reached her brow.

    Shit, I¡¯m burned.

    The left side of her face had been swept with flame, having scorched her skin. A rotten smell, along with a new found bareness on her brow, told her she had lost the facial hair from that half. The drake bucked again, chest swelling and undulating as it prepared a second bout. With a snap of her fingers, Lakyus triggered a healing spell and sprung out of her crouch, running opposite Tina¡¯s direction. The creature again moved to spit flame, but before it could, something caught in the dark, a thrown charge that exploded at its feet a moment later. A turbid, carmine colored smoke poured from the spot, the fiend enveloped in the stuff an instant later.

    Come on, fall for it.

    Lakyus again changed directions, again bearing directly for the demon. Then, in a way that belied its inner cunning, the rusted drake simply ignored the smoke. Had the thing been an actual beast, it perhaps would have panicked and hurriedly tried to clear the stuff away or otherwise rout outright, but it was no beast. Wicked intelligence burned behind its eyeless face, and the thing aimed its head at Lakyus - silhouetted in smoke - and pumped its breast one last time to disgorge its fire. It lit the cloud, oranges and reds akin to a sunset, yet the flame did not break through. It was caught by the smoke, a pall that somehow dragged it and sent it upward. Lakyus¡¯s smile grew a little wider; Tina¡¯s gambit had worked.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    She called up her floating blades, setting them level on either side as she swelled her energies in her legs and leapt. The drake tried to scurry back, but it was too late, Lakyus barreling overtop the thing with Kilineiram outstretched. It dropped, flattening itself against the ground to turn her strike from a slash to a thin cut. Lakyus used it as leverage, wrenching around to land on its lower back. The drake instantly moved to throw her off, but her floating blades were an instant quicker, swooping up and over to pin its wings to the ground. The thing nearly fell out from under her, its head whipping around to the right only for an off-post Gagaran to strike it square in its temple and send it down. It bounced off the ground with a sound akin to a bang, then tried to come around the other direction to spout at Lakyus, but this she already had all the time she needed. Running up its back, she raised her blade for a thrusting strike, aiming her blade at the nape of its neck.

    Foul thing, die!

    The thing seemed to sense her thoughts and shudder. She reached the apex of her stance, surging the ?ther in her arms as she prepared to plunge. Then, all at once, all of the creature''s plates flattened as tight as possible and ground against themselves. A few, chance sparks flew, and Lakyus realized too late that the viscous, black substance covering its body was not an ichor, but oil.

    The entire creature set ablaze, the sudden burst nearly forcing her comrades off their feet as they left back. Lakyus was caught fully in the burn, her legs entirely enveloped by it. She gave a quick cry from instinct, a mistake that filled her chest with the smoke, sending her internal energies awry. That moment of lost focus set off a cascade in her arms, and each of her palms burst open in a dozen places, blood spurting out as she lost herself to a coughing fit. The thing swept its head around to the left, battering a blade and knocking it from its place. Lakyus tried to replace it, but lost it in a billowing curl of the black cloud, feeling the monster jerk as it ripped its left wing free, then leveraged that to unpin its right.

    Shit! I almost had it!

    It jerked, pivoting then leaping swiftly to the right, Lakyus feet slipping out from under her as she fell backward into the burn. Before she could react, her entire body was subsumed in the blaze, everything on her person capable of catching fire doing so. She tried to choke out the words for another prayer, but found her throat was ruined, instead issuing them inwardly.

    He of the Secret Mere, deliver me from flame.

    Though she was still deep in the fire, the crushing heat suddenly seemed to fade, the tendrils which danced across her skin somehow seeming distant. She felt a thin layer envelop her, a gauze-like substance that lay across her skin and armor alike. With this, she ripped around, rolling onto her front and reaching through the new barrier to grab at the fiend¡¯s scales.

    He of the Cherished Pool, deliver me from my wounds.

    As she reached, the charred flesh of her hand suddenly shed, blackened parts sloughing off and replacing themselves entirely when she successfully gripped the thing. Flame continued to jet from beneath the scale, a spray of burning fluid covering Lakyus¡¯s offhand. Lakyus turned her head, shouting through the roaring fire.

    ¡°Everyone! Get away!¡±

    She didn¡¯t need to see her comrades to know that they had done so, a faint affirmative drifting into the soundscape. She tried to summon her blades, commanding them to spasm against the ground so she could find them, but she was unable to make out any rattle. Before she could think further, the beast again shuttered its plates, then broke forward, its legs pumping, then its wings. With a beat, it sent Lakyus flying up and back; despite its power, she held, flipping around to again face forward as she slammed back into it on its next upstroke. Another beat and the thing left the ground, fighting its way up into the sky with her on it.

    Now what?!

    Lakyus was exasperated. The previous drake had been slain with magical battery, and though she had not been there to witness it, she had at least felt it possible that she could slay another herself; on the attempt, she had instead been surprised twice over with fire attacks and fumbled her killing blow at a critical moment. This was made all the worse by those watching her, almost every adventurer available near the capital witnessing her current debacle.

    I look incompetent.    No, wait, this- this is good! I think. It can¡¯t create distance, and if I force it down-

    Lakyus was interrupted by a sudden jink, the creature suddenly banking in the air and making a hard turn to the right. She flailed wildly in the air, legs and sword flopping askew as her whole body was torqued around, but her offhand held fast. Another jerk, and she was nearly thrown off, her handhold now well and above her head, arm held in a painful position. Keeping what power of hers she could focused in her hand, she attempted to turn round and climb back onto the beast, but found herself wholly in danger of slipping off. With great effort, she twisted herself back onto the thing during one of its downstrokes, embracing it with Kilineiram still in hand.

    Each stroke of its wings cleared away the flame for a brief moment, and in the next of those, her head lolled down to take a reckoning of the landscape below. She was far above it, dangling from nearly the height of the flame wall. It swept by quickly, the beast pitching downward to gain speed. The demon had gone a-ways out over the crowd, but had now turned back north, dragging Lakyus over the adventurer vanguard, the last demon line, and to the clearing in the middle. As it went further on, Lakyus caught her first clear look of the hump in the middle.

    The ground seemed to swell up like a tick-bite from the earth, then doubling-back to slope in. As she went further on, the ground pitched further downward, slope growing sheer in the center of the hill, before it dropped away altogether. There, in the middle, she saw straight down a distance much greater than was her height to the city around her, an open wound in the earth that plunged into a glowing red depth. Things crawled along the walls, indistinct in the distance. The realization of what she was seeing struck her as the iridescence passed out of sight: the mosquito bite that had ripped a hole between her world and the netherrealms. The demon thrashed again, but Lakyus was secure in her grasp, the flame again washing over her as the land below was lost to a muddy orange.

    That¡¯s where they slipped through, it must have been! We almost have them!

    With the object of her reverie lost, Lakyus returned to the task at hand. She climbed, building power in her legs and core before springing forward on the drake. With another beat, the flame cleared once again, Lakyus turning round to look at the spot the creature had launched from. Commanding her blades to rise, she saw four of her six ascend, the other two likely pinned. Ordering them to point to her and fly, three came hither, the other shooting off in the opposite direction and skewering a chance chasme. The demon continued to trade height for speed, entering into a sharp curl around the square. Lakyus kept the blades in close pursuit, before forcing them to overtake and fall back upon her and the drake. It rolled over in the air, lithely slipping through the blades, but Lakyus continued to volley them.

    Come on, slip up!

    She sent the blades across its path another five times, before the one nicked its tail on the sixth pass, spiraling away to the ground. The thing screeched, once more trying to shake her off, and when that failed, entered into a dive. She kept with it, letting the creature pull her faster than she could fall, raising her sword against the wind. The demon realized the error too late, pulling out of its dive with a hard turn. Lakyus pitching forward at that moment and slaking herself upon its wing with a rapid strike, empowered with the anathematic energy of her blade. She sliced through what would have been the fleshy membrane on an actual drake¡¯s wing, instead ripping through the thin metal and fouling it. The stout tear she made grew much too quick as a black web spread across its wing, the break growing to its stem, before the whole structure violently fell apart in a cone of flaming shrapnel.

    Lakyus and the drake dropped, she leaping from the thing and landing with a roll as the thing spiraled into the ground. Flipping over when it struck, it was caught in a roaring burst of its own fluids, leaving flaming streaks of itself as it ground to a halt. Its apparent fear to fly too far out from the core had meant they had crashed within the bounds of the square itself on its far side, in the midst of a crowd of imps. The things at once took flight, fleeing the chaos as a few chance arrows smote them one by one. Lakyus advanced on the wounded drake, blade extended. What flames shot from its mouth and scales were now dwarfed by the fireball emerging from its wounded stump, the thing limping backward into the cloud of smoke it had made. Walking through it, she closed her mouth, unwilling to breathe the poisoned air. She arrived faster than it could crawl away, planting a boot on its ailing form and taking its head.

    It fell limp, a new jet of flame sprouting from its neck. More fluids leaked from other exposed veins, demon blood proper, clear liquids that ran thinner than water and ate at the stone below, a similarly thin yellow liquid that likewise caught fire, and several other substances that turned into variously colored steams. Lakyus backed away as the corpse turned to slag, whatever magical property that had kept the heat from destroying the creature having been dispelled. She watched satisfied for a moment longer, before turning to take stock of her situation. A few fiends stood idle near her, a few gazers and beetle demons unwilling to approach, and who shuffled uncertainly when she came to them. She again raised her blade, arms tired from the slaying, before all at once, a change came over those demons in front of her; they began to retreat.

    Jaldabaoth is vanquished?!

    By themselves, demons were fickle, self-serving creatures. They did not feel camaraderie in battle, only a shared impetus to ruin what was decent and deface what was good. When slaughters became slogs, what kept fiends fighting were those superior fiends who would destroy them were they to run. Here, fear of adventurers had taken none of the enemy, and thus, the flight of the creatures in front of her meant that they no longer feared retribution from their commander.

    Momon has claimed victory, hasn¡¯t he?

    Lakyus cast her gaze around the square, seeing the enemy had begun a complete route inward, towards the mound. All pitkinds, except those lost in rages or bloodlusts, made for the hill; the two standing frog creatures lumbered on, tramping through a crowd of mephits and quazits; the imp swarm she had scattered to the sky a moment prior now swirled round and dove in, their larger kin following in after; the beatles and rams marched backwards, making metered and regimented steps back in formation, with other stray exotic kinds mixed in. The earth began to rumble much more, the hill depressing as demons desperately scrambled in. Everyone charged after, warriors rushing forward to cut down stragglers, spellcasters unleashing every ordinance at the crowds they could, the air fizzing with light and color as the demon force completely collapsed. Lakyus ran too, catching a crow headed demon in the fray and slicing through its back. At that, she witnessed the hill finally disappear, the wound in the earth heaving as sealed shut, the ground meeting as if it had never fractured at all.

    And that¡¯s that, isn¡¯t it?

    The last few remaining demons were quickly slain, the last survivor of the enemy force being a hellhound whose body was ripped to pieces by a dozen blows. Then, all around, the flame-wall fell, the last tendrils of it drifting off into what remained of the night as if it had never existed at all. A general cheer went up, the hundred adventurers present at once yelling in celebration. Lakyus opened her mouth to join that cry, but found herself too exhausted to manage. Instead, she looked around for her comrades, spotting them not too far away. She waved them over.

    I should find Momon and Evileye. I wouldn''t be surprised if either is wounded, and I don¡¯t think Nabe possesses any healing magic.

    ¡°Boss, that drake was some work!¡±

    ¡°Nice kill, Fiendish Leader.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t exactly clean.

    ¡°Good job, Evil Boss.¡±

    Lakyus blushed, realizing she was unlikely to shirk the praise. She turned away, embarrassed. To her relief, it stopped, her teammates either too understanding or too tired to continue. Gagaran choked out a few words a moment later.

    ¡°We gonna find shorty?¡±

    Lakyus nodded, before waving to the lot and turning north. A few teams were already beginning to make in that direction, filtering toward the northern exit to the square, one that connected to the smaller plaza of interest to her. The Blue Roses went after them, working to the front by way of authority alongside Gazef, who joined them to step out into the plaza. There, alongside Evileye and Nabe was Momon, and after a moment¡¯s conversation with Evileye, the gathered crowd witnessed him throw up his sword and give a cry of victory, its edge catching the first light of dawn from the rising sun. The moment was absolutely perfect.

 Movement III: All Else Cept Scape (30)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

    ¡°Report- Report from the Blue Roses. Jaldabaoth has fled! They''ve been routed. They- they¡¯ve been routed! We¡¯ve won!¡±

    The words drifted past her notice, before an errant drink splattered against the battlemap in the explosion around her.

    ¡°We have them!¡±

    ¡°We won! Oh my Gods, we¡¯ve won!¡±

    ¡°Back to the netherrealms they go!¡±

    ¡°Thank the Gods!¡±

    Renner broke from her spell, realizing that her silence was unbecoming for the celebration around her. The room had completely lost itself, men caught in embraces with others, general cheers, and appellations all around. Unable to find words, she forced out a girlish squeal and gave the tiniest of leaps. Upon her landing, she covered her mouth with her hands, at once appearing bashful and protecting her true reaction.

    I don¡¯t understand. Were they to have pushed, they would have broken through.

    Renner had lost the battle¡¯s tenor completely. The final advance into the square had been left open on one side, something whose exploitation she had spent the last seven minutes in tepid anticipation of. Now, that dreaded outcome had been ripped away, replaced with an apparent victory that was but a moment prior wishful and unlikely.

    The enemy has done something nonsensical. Why not tear the gap in the line? We had no capacity to resist; no reserves to call up; no pools of mana to draw spellfire from; no ability to heal the dying from another attack. Did they not see it? I can¡¯t imagine how not. Most of their force was flying, and their little-kin could easily slip into the sky or through the gaps in the wall to see it. They ran consistent probes, finding paths through the densest of urban blocks and setting up a dozen ambushes. They saw this, yes?

    ¡°Your Highness! Your Highness!¡±

    Renner turned to an excited Helgrave, letting her eyes smile as a response; this, to indicate a silent and introspective reverie. She forced her eyes to wet, two gentle streaks rolling down her cheeks as she bashfully swept them away. He lagged for a moment, before understanding came over him, and he backed away to make no further interruption of her.

    Counterpoints? Chaos of battle? Plausible. Scout killed before it can report; Jaldabaoth too caught in his duel with Momon to provide effective command; breakdown of communication; any number of possibilities. My enemy feels above that, though. The care he took in the early moments of our advance, the layered defense. Surely he would not structure his force such that it would lose its dynamism when his person¡­ his¡­ I suppose ¡°person¡± is as good a word as any, came under assault. Besides, is not individual initiative something fiends excel at?

    No, this was a decision made on his part, a command to hold his forces back, but why? Preservation? I already nixed that. The holding of ground? The entire cause of a lodgement still seems spurious, but, clearly it has served some purpose to the enemy. I can¡¯t think of a tactical reason to launch an assault upon the breach. In the case of securing a retreat, a shock counterattack and breakthrough would do exactly that. My only thought was that this had some strategic cause, but if this incursion truly is to last longer, why not encircle the adventurers and be done with the matter?

    Renner looked back to the map, eyes scouring the spot upon which the enemy had made no assault. The pieces had long since shifted, a hasty shuffle to remove those spelter figurines that marked the enemy, one that inevitably moved the allied force markers out of place. One of Helgrave¡¯s retinue, someone Renner recognized as Knight Haylen, had taken to over excitedly clearing the board, as did winners tend to do at the end of wargames. There was an odd melancholy to the moment, an ill taste in her mouth that would not quite settle.

    Have I fallen victim to yet another paranoia? The same error I made with the syndicate; assuming every extension of mine was something the enemy had countered? I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t a clue. I thought perhaps that I had found their actions predictable, that they would set upon every opportunity post-haste. It seems Jaldabaoth has left me behind in his machinations. Pray tell, is he such a finer runner than I, or am I merely lame of mind? Lonesome.

    Renner let out a gentle sigh, letting her hands fall away from her face, before turning round to inspect the riot around her. Many men were rushing out the double-doors, happy stammering about the fall of the flame-wall. Gilre seemed caught in this, turning back to Renner to indicate she should come forth. Renner gave a slow shake of the head no, letting more tears flow down her face, in indication that she needed a moment alone. Gilre, akin to Helgrave a moment prior, also understood this and made her egress, upon which the doors finally came to rest, leaving Renner alone with the five magic casters too exhausted to stand.

    This gets me nowhere, nor does anything else. Accusations of plot, of conspiracy, mean nothing if I cannot use that to substantiate action. Likewise, I am not wont to assume mistakes on the part of my enemy; instead, I wish to label this a conscious action - perhaps even competent. What of every other moment this night the enemy decided not to strike? Perhaps a dozen more hidden holes opened in our lines that I did not notice, and who knows what other schema he considered and then abandoned. This is to say nothing of his actions before the flame-wall proper - whatever cause that had. His blows against all the Eight Fingers installations of note to me, excepting I suppose one, which by my rotten luck, was the one I sent Climb too. Perhaps the Gods, in their absence, will alway sweep him away from danger. Lo, so comes Sebas to save an errant slave girl.

    Time seemed to catch, Renner¡¯s mind fruitlessly spinning onward as she repeated those words in her mind, a general sense of confusion setting in.

    Recall the events of that place. Climb and Brain arrived, alongside Raeven¡¯s man¡­ Rettenmeyer, and the squad of city guard I assigned to them. Lying in wait for the time to strike, they noted Sebas approaching, who quickly noticed them, and took them in. My puppy and his two companions slipped in the back, encountering what they believed to be the girl - truly, that disdainful man who almost slew him the day prior - and countered their Battle Demon. Fighting ensued, only to be cut short when Sebas entered and ended the life of Zero, just as he had done four times over for the rest of Six Arms. They went outside, and at that moment, the flame wall rose up. Sebas left, and the warriors returned to me, leaving the city guard at the sight, along with a minor guildsman capable of notifying us in case of further demonic intrusion¡­ something which has yet to come.

    There is no possible reason why the Six Arms compound would not possess Jaldabaoth¡¯s object of interest. Were they chased off by strength? Unlikely. That decision would have been made before he arrived at the compound, considering that the demon force had already managed strikes before then on Tia¡¯s target. If Sebas¡¯s winding path through the city streets was seen, then how was Momon¡¯s flying approach ignored? Surely Jaldabaoth would not have appeared at Hilma¡¯s manor if he knew Darkness would drop from the sky on top of him. Is this Sebas such a more dangerous foe? Dangerous, yes, but a foe?

    Think cooly. How did this escape me? The fervor of the moment perhaps, and the lingering doubt as the function of Jaldabaoth¡¯s goal. Hours ago, it was not yet known how willing he was to sacrifice certain elements, and the easy presumption that a dread fighter such as Sebas could part the demon force where he walked. What was the story Climb told again?

    Earlier in the evening, before Renner had made her proper pronouncement of battle to the summoned force of adventurers, she had conferenced with Climb as to the situation he had encountered at the Eight Fingers compound. The event had too many particular quirks for her to take proper stock of, from a crossdressing illusionist to a single blow slaying Zero, and thus had slipped in and out of her mind without proper reckoning. Now, what had been a simple overlook but minutes prior now seemed like a grave error. Renner¡¯s chest stung, a deep pang that ran through her breast into her heart.

    That Tuare was a slave that Sebas and taken in. That after being harried by the city guard, Sebas decided to assault and shatter the brothel she had come from. That after that, she was rescued, and then again imperiled by a kidnapping conducted by Eight Fingers - likely Six Arms - to which he chose to make his rescue tonight. That he- no, no he didn¡¯t choose; Six Arms selected the time¡­ and upon the conclusion of his business there, the rising of the flame wall.

    Renner, for reasons beyond her, began to quiver, suddenly finding the war room tight.

    The only reason to not strike the compound before is¡­ is if Sebas¡¯s actions constituted a strike itself. Perhaps¡­ perhaps a plot. I- I must speak with someone involved. Climb- Climb has already given me his account, and Rettenmeyer is soon to return to Raeven¡¯s service. I must speak with Brain on this matter.

    ¡ª

    The sunlight of the almost-noon sun bathed the palace lawn, which had itself become the sight of an impromptu jubilee. It was an unheard of intermingling of adventurers, Ro-Lante¡¯s titled forces, those of House Raeven and its supplicants, the Warrior-Band, several priests and priestesses, a host of Magicians, and Valencia¡¯s maidstaff. After the declaration of victory, forces had repaired at the palace and then endured another several hours of debriefing and payment, something that had left the lot even more tired and hungry. A rather impromptu feast of pies - thrown together from whatever the kitchens had on hand - along with the various cookeries of some more uncouth guests had led to almost everyone getting themselves promptly stuffed and drunk.

    Renner spent her time in a false celebration with Lakyus, the latter making quick work of a frightfully unladylike quantity of food. Renner had herself only taken a single pie, and - as per custom - did not finish it, though this was less out of politeness and more so her vanished appetite. Some time prior, Lakyus had been struck with a sudden deep urge to sleep, quickly bidding Renner goodbye as she wandered off with the best of the Blue Rose - except a nascent Evileye who haunted Darkness. This had been a welcome reprieve for Renner, she having pushed her plate away, fell back into her chair, and brooded behind a cup of strong tea.

    What if Tuare was not bait, but an objective? It¡¯s possible.

    The more she ran the matter over, the more she was certain of Sebas¡¯s involvement in Jaldabaoth¡¯s plot, be it association, alignment, or alliance. Though she had repeatedly stayed herself from the latter conclusion. Were the matters truly unrelated, Sebas¡¯s assault coinciding with the enemy¡¯s failure to do so, alongside the Sebas¡¯s completion of Tuare¡¯s rescue coinciding with the appearance of the flame wall would have been simple happenstance, conclusions Renner found untenable. Had the two merely wished to avoid a collision, Jaldabaoth could have run ahead and done his business, leaving the girl for him, or, merely adopt his lodgement later and slaughter the guard on site to search it, neither of which had occurred. Collaboration between Sebas and the fiend now seemed certain, a harrowing fact that Renner had no desire to grasp.

    Alongside what else? This object of power aside, he did use his raids and lodgement to carry off with a great many things. An extraction of material wealth from both places, not merely coinage and jewelry, but furniture, dining sets, and the like. That¡¯s bizarre in its own right. Do demons really have need for gold? An extraction of the people, too. I suppose even the netherrealms need slaves, but even the decrepit and ancient were taken. Perhaps they have other uses for invalids. Are there not man-eaters beyond our borders? Who¡¯s to say they discriminate in their taste?

    Renner took a gentle sip from her cup, eyes lost in the far field. She watched for a moment, tracking a maid and knight lost in deep conversation. The pair were one of many on the field, the maid suddenly leaping forth and kissing the knight, pulling him into an embrace. It was the sixth such occurrence Renner had seen that morning, the aftermath of a crisis leading to inevitable proposals. Watching the knight lift the maid wholesale off the ground, and spin her round, she sighed quietly. She was delaying the inevitable.

    How am I to so casually address this? Call a man over, and with a light questioning and tea, decide whether or not I am doomed. Perhaps Lakyus has that sort of strength. I''m caught wholly by the enemy. All things not well to be, I must speak with Brain.

    In sheepish fashion, she had belayed this action for hours, consistently finding - or inventing - cause to avoid detailed conversation with him. It was simple anxiety on her part, an unwillingness to engage with the individual who most threatened her security, even if the knowledge he held was so desperately desired. Renner sighed, preparing herself for the ordeal of rising from her chair - now having been awake well over the full course of a day. Before she rose, she took one last look around, and to her surprise, found Brain Unglaus in close proximity, leaning against the palace wall but six paces away to her left.

    Well this was mighty convenient. I expected him to be with the Warrior-Captain. Why¡­ ah, he''s standing by me because I legitimize his presence. Anywhere else, he''s liable to be named a bandit. Right.

    Renner lazily waved, after a moment catching Brain¡¯s attention and bidding him over.

    ¡°Mister Unglaus. Mayhaps I have a word?¡±

    Unglaus did not respond, instead staring at Renner with baggy eyes.

    ¡°Forgive me, I¡¯m bad at these things. I have to say yes, right?¡±

    Renner hung a moment, before breaking into a mad fit of laughter. Her exhaustion, along with the sheer comic value of a scraggly, queerly-haired, cocky, yet etiquette-deprived bladelord addressing royalty so casually had pushed her over the edge. Her laugh was not practiced; instead, shrill, true, and entirely uneasy. Her chest hurt, and she flitting her hand as an exoneration while she desperately tried to halt her upheaval.

    ¡°Why, yes, you do.¡±

    ¡°Climb is so much better at this than I am, Miss¡­ Miss Highness.¡±

    ¡°¡®Your Highness.¡¯ It¡¯s no matter. Come, come, sit. Don¡¯t worry, I am quite exhausted myself, so I¡¯ll keep my badgering brief.¡±

    Brain gave an uncomfortable nod, before slipping round the other side of the table and finding a seat. Renner killed the last of her snickers, pointed in the general direction of her tea set, he refusing the offer. Though she no longer had any need to stand, she drew off the back of her chair, carefully bracing her head on her arms such that he could rest it while being attentive.

    ¡°So, as Climb had it when he returned, you encountered Sebas at your objective.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right¡­ Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°And that Sebas was personally responsible for the death of five of the six Six Arms.¡±

    ¡°Right, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°And that, for their leader, he did so in a single blow, is that correct?¡±

    This was the first thing that tripped Brain, mouth forming and unforming several words before he finally gave a tepid response.

    ¡°...Yes.¡±

    ¡°Hesitation, why so?¡±

    Brain raised his head slightly, eyes drifting off into the distance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to describe this in a way you would understand, Your Highness.¡±

    Mm, and perhaps you couldn¡¯t. I thought myself schooled in such violent matters by the last three months, but all that feels so thin now. What knowledge can I say that I have? The enemy eludes me; in its actions on the battlefield, and capabilities that I seemed to learn one after another, minutes behind those around me. You may be right, dear Unglaus; I am a simple princess.

    ¡°Then, continue as you might otherwise.¡±

    He gave a quick nod.

    ¡±There¡¯s a difference between a single-blow and a ¡®single-blow.¡¯ Most men fall to just one strike. One swift cut with a blade and that¡¯s that.¡±

    ¡°Immediately?¡±

    ¡°Well, a fatal blow isn¡¯t necessarily instant. I¡¯ve known some to get up and keep fighting.¡±

    ¡°Mm, until they lose the rest of their blood?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ No person in this world is strong. Some stupid farmboy takes up a kitchen knife to defend his mother from bandits and gets gutted, adventurer out in the wilds torn to shreds by an ogre, or something like that. With stronger warriors¡­ look, Your Highness, I practice this stuff. My techniques¡­ my art is based on this. A swift, accurate strike that fatally wounds the enemy in one blow.¡±

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t that?¡±

    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ve trained - for a long time, Your Highness. Making a cut like that, it¡¯s not impossible, but it¡¯s not nothing. When Sebas killed Zero, he didn¡¯t just do it easily, he did it casually.¡±

    Renner had no response to offer, instead looking to Brain with head cocked, eyes narrow. Gaze falling to her cup, she counted the little ripples on its surface, then, taking a sip.

    Casual. As if Zero posed no threat to him at all. Was not the killing of Gagaran and Tia by Jaldabaoth the same? Evileye said something to the effect of an apology on his part, a mistaken murder. At the very least, it¡¯s clear that the both of them possess a sort of remarkable threat beyond all but one hero of our age.

    ¡°Frightening.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s-¡±

    Brain paused, uncomfortably readjusting in his seat.

    ¡°That¡¯s not all.¡±

    Ah. Brain is right. I¡¯m dallying, and as a result, this conversation has done little besides frighten me. I haven¡¯t learn anything of value. I need something firm, a hard fact to reveal the enemy''s purpose. Why the girl? Why the interest in my puppy, or in Brain? Let him speak to his urge, and then push this in a useful direction.

    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m almost afraid to hear more.¡±

    ¡°Before Sebas killed him, he took Zero¡¯s full force blow without moving.¡±

    ¡°As in, didn¡¯t flinch?¡±

    ¡°As if he was never hit at all.¡±

    I suppose bearing an ultimate blow is more impressive than bearing one. Oh blazes. How am I to ask? Climb was struck dumb by Sebas, constantly praising the man as if he was a legend in the flesh. The way his eyes lit¡­ frustrating. Who¡¯s to say Brain isn''t lost to the same awe? Anything I say risks insult. Hm, perhaps it would work though. Retreat a little into my mask, then.

    ¡°Eh? Is such a thing achievable by a human?¡±

    Brain jolted in place, Renner¡¯s heart twisting in satisfaction. Whatever she had said had drawn a reaction out of Brain, not merely insult, but the shock of reveal.

    Oh, my darling Unglaus, I thought when I saw you strike Gazef all those years ago, it was the fastest I would ever see you jump.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t say.¡±

    You suspect he isn¡¯t, don¡¯t you?

    ¡°I think you can.¡±

    Renner¡¯s word cut through the last of Brain¡¯s resistance, the bladelord slinging his head low, and giving a stiff sigh.

    ¡°There are certain peaks, Your Highness. Things¡­ things mankind isn¡¯t capable of. Things I didn¡¯t dream of ¡®till I saw them.¡±

    ¡°You speak from experience?¡±

    ¡°Sebas was not the only being I saw like that last night, Your Highness.¡±

    What else could he- is he referring to the scaled demon? That was defeated, no? And Climb while Climb called it fearsome, he gave no account of it being a transcendent being. It¡¯s not as if they encountered that dread demon himself, either.

    Brain saw Renner¡¯s confusion, giving a tepid smile, before continuing.

    ¡°Shalltear Bloodfallen.¡±

    Is¡­ that a name?

    ¡°Some months back, I was with¡­ a ¡®group-¡¯¡±

    The Death Spreading Brigade. The one that was wiped out, excepting our dear Brain. He¡¯s speaking of the vampire - or perhaps plural - that did so. Momon destroyed one, meaning that last night, he encountered the other.

    ¡°The vampire that slaughtered your band. It was here? This morning?¡±

    Brain stared at Renner with a raised eyebrow for some time, only finding himself after a long break.

    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±

    ¡°That she-¡±

    ¡°The one that attacked us, months prior. How did you know that?¡±

    This night is growing more complex by the hour. Not one, but two beings of fantastic strength make chance appearances on the same night of a demonic incursion? It¡¯s unseemly. Much more is going on here. Why am I involved in this? Why did a course against Eight Fingers set me on a collision with such monsters?

    ¡°I¡¯m not deaf to news from the east.¡±

    ¡°...Right.¡±

    At the very least, what happened last night was obvious to such creatures of import. At the very least, there were signs of this incursion that they saw and I missed; Jaldabaoth must have made visible moves. What was it? Mustering troops in the hells? Spells for his breakout? Perhaps elements in the overworld? Something of the like.

    ¡°Tell me of your encounter.¡±

    ¡°I clipped her nail.¡±

    It was Renner¡¯s turn to lurch, her mind blanking, before pulling itself back together.

    ¡®Nail¡¯? What does he mean, ¡®nail¡¯? Is this some turn of phrase? Some piece of warrior¡¯s speech I am unaccustomed to? A metaphor for ¡®skirmish,¡¯ or perhaps to have ¡®drawn blood¡®? Please, Brain, qualify what you have just said. I beg of thee. Do not sit there, like you are, doing nothing but look at me. Tell me what you said was in jest. That you were tired, and picked the wrongest comedy at the wrongest of moments. Do not tell me, that you, the blade lord who I once watched move like lightning- no, so fast as to be imperceptible to my eye; do not tell me that you with your sword and your skill did nothing but clip this monster¡¯s nail.

    ¡°Mister Unglaus, I beg your forgiveness for the insult inherent to my words to come, but this ¡®clipping¡¯... was this the best you could have done?¡±

    Brain gave a slow nod, Renner¡¯s chest set to a great tightening as the world around her seemed to leap.

    ¡°What is such a monster doing loitering in a demonic incursion?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea.¡±

    ¡ª

    ¡°Alright. You two should be able to speak with each other now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Evileye.¡±

    ¡°The spell has enough mana to go for another few minutes without me. Severing my thread now.¡±

    The sorceress¡¯s hands twitched, before reaching them out and pinching the air between her thumbs and forefingers, then pulling them apart. A low hiss emanated within Renner¡¯s mind as she bid a friendly wave of goodbye to Evileye, who ignored it and promptly left the room. Renner returned to her chair and began to speak internally.

    ¡°Apologies for the quite sudden interruption, Master Ainzach.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Your Highness. I¡¯m always honored when a member of House Vaiself contacts me through Rettenmaier, but this is the first time I¡¯ve had the opportunity to speak directly to royalty. I hope you¡¯ll forgive me for any mistakes I make with my court etiquette.¡±

    Renner gave a placating nod, having found in her communication with Lakyus that some measure of a person¡¯s movement transferred across a message link; however, akin to speech in the physical presence of another, she found herself perfectly capable of her typical acts, and with the help of her friend, developed a practiced tone and emotional expression that could reach across a hundred leagues. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she responded to Ainzach¡¯s question.

    ¡°None such exist for message communication. I wish to inquire as to some details on Darkness¡¯s adventures in the east Mistress Gilre wasn¡¯t able to confirm.¡±

    ¡°To what purpose?¡±

    To understand just how much I¡¯ve let slip my vigil.

    Renner was subject to great discomfort, casting her gaze out at the late afternoon sun with nothing but a growing dread. This was not the unspecified anxieties of tomorrow; rather, the concordance of an uncountable number of elements that all revealed themselves in one great dash. Her conversation with Unglaus had completely shaken her of her creeping need to sleep, feeling as awake now as she would on any other day.  It was as if she had idly walked along, lost wholly in a girlish daydream, only to awaken and find herself in an evil wood deep into moonless night. She attempted to stay her heart, but found the action fruitless.

    ¡°I''m preparing a speech for when House Vaiself issues its reward to him, and I want to make sure I have the proper accounting of his heroics before this disturbance.¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ that truly your cause.¡±

    Renner let out a gentle smile, feeling a welcome yet utterly insufficient relief at Ainzach¡¯s boldness.

    I do so appreciate the bravery of adventurers. Had this been a courtier, I¡¯d¡¯ve expected some backhand laced in their words, or some subtle yip in their speech to display their doubt, not such an outright doubt¡­ Chardelon, you¡¯re dallying again. Put on a heroic front.

    ¡°No, but that is what you are to say to others if they ask about this conversation. The course of events here has made it clear to some of us in the west that sitting idle on threats of this nature is no longer acceptable. I wish to avoid being caught wrongfooted again. As a friend of House Vaiself, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand my request for discretion.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Some general elements I¡¯ve had some trouble divining. When Momon was out east, he was responsible for the doing and slaying of what exactly?¡±

    ¡°Well, the killing he did included a vampire, a sect of Zurrenorn cultists, an undead army, two skeletal dragons, a goblin tribe including five ogres, a gigant basilisk; and the taming of the Wise King of the Forest, and the rescue of the Bareare boy- uh, the grandson of E-Rantel¡¯s Master Alchemist.¡±

    This was her one stalwart mote of hope, that a hero of the ages had settled themselves right in her land. Though she had been kept at a frustrating distance, Momon felt a reliable element, something she could count on in the back of her mind to defend not merely herself or her house, nor even the broader kingdom, but mankind. He had proven himself in his duties now three times over, first in the destruction of the undead hordes, then in the hunting of one of it¡¯s likely masterminds, and now in the counter of a fel force. This was to speak nothing of his companion, who was of such great power in her spellcasting ability that she was able to hold off three of Jaldabaoth¡¯s companions compared to Evileye¡¯s two. They were an element she could understand: people she could speak to, supply, pay to perform tasks, provide favors for, expedite the transport of, defend in front of the court, whisper words to her father for, advocate for the provision of a title, and every other element of her strength, of her agency; one the few pieces of good fortune that had not vanished from her hand.

    ¡°Quite accomplished."

    ¡°And, for every detail, some escort work in the southwest reaches of Tob. To a place called Carne village, actually.¡±

    Eh? The same place Gazef was nearly laid low by Slaine? That¡¯s an odd coincidence in its own right. No matter.

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Hm? Oh, that business with the Warrior-Captain. A few days after, I believe.¡±

    ¡°I see. Onto specifics, the Vampire-Lord Momon slew was this Honyopenyoko, yes?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    That he could kill such a thing¡­ it¡¯s something I need to hear. If those two alike can reliably remove such ruinous entities from this world, we will be all the better for it. Still, it took him almost the course of a day to travel here from the east. I must do everything in my power to tie him to this land, to tie him to House Vaiself, and to tie him to Re-Estize. Gods forbid another happening where he was not already on the way; to picture him in Re-Urovale when Jaldabaoth makes his return, or heaven forbid abroad. It¡¯s untenable. Absolutely untenable. I must convince my father to lord him, and to do so quickly. However much of the crown land he must take to do so I do not care, he must have it.

    ¡°Rumor in the west holds that he made mention of a second vampire that he was hunting, is that correct?¡±

    That there is still this Shalltear Bloodfallen roaming the world is something I cannot bear. If I must suffer this Sebas masquerading as a butler, so be it. If I must suffer the specter of that dread red devil¡¯s return, so be it. It would not do to let something like Shalltear continue its existence. I must have it exterminated.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°What was that vampire¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Befuchiririn.¡±

    It took Renner an instant to recognize the sound for what it was, and another for her to realize that it was not what she was expecting.

    What? An alias, perhaps? That must be the case. Either way, the name is strange, in as foreign a tongue as the other two. Still, this is an oddity. From Brain¡¯s description of the monster, I expected it to be so confident as to not lie about such things. His description of it not bothering to make an introduction until he prompted it; the way it forgot his existence entirely until it spoke to him next. That Momon would not know it by its name¡­ I could not stand a third of such beings. Perhaps this is a gap in nomenclature, some quirk of the way Momon¡¯s people - whomever they are - name things.

    ¡°Eh? Verily?¡±

    ¡°He gave it after the battle.¡±

    Ainzach misunderstands what I¡¯m asking about. ¡®After the battle¡¯? I suppose Momon did have a little curtness about him; though, still, I would anticipate him to give the vampire¡¯s true name were it hiding one, unless he did¡­ or does not know it.

    Renner flitted her vision a little higher, cocking her head ever so slightly to the left and stilling herself.

    How would that be possible, though? Does not the lore of his team make it clear those two came to this place to hunt said anathema? What¡¯s the likelihood that they would not possess the actual names of these things? Is there truly a third? I suspect I must tread lightly here, prod Ainzach in a way that does not reveal my surprise at his previous words, nor the object of my count.

    ¡°Ah, in the debrief. Did he make mention of any additional of their kin?¡±

    ¡°No, he spoke only of two, Your Highness.¡±

    Two alone. Two alone? This is disquieting. I suppose there was that other event in that tight span of time, the matter in our eastern fortress itself. Perhaps- perhaps Shalltear was from that clade. Did some of that sect of the living dead take flight?

    ¡°Mm. Pertaining to the Exhumation, of the Zurrenorn cult in E-Rantel, had any escaped?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Such a flat response. How could he be so sure?

    ¡°Dead to the last- er, redead?¡±

    ¡°¡®Destroyed,¡¯ Your Highness, and yes.¡±

    Renner felt herself slowly deflate. Every explanation she could proffer for the discrepancy presented, every excuse, had all turned out insufficient. She spun on a little more, mind groping in every direction she could think, but she found no sure handhold. Dissatisfied, she finished out her cup, and made to pour herself more with her set.

    I need more. If not name, what about physical description? From what Brain provided me, I almost suspect that vampire encountered by that adventurer team Red Glaive was Shalltear, not Honyopenyoko. Brain spoke of a thrall, and though he made no mention of beauty, I suspect that was merely something lost to his terror. Ask him.

    ¡°Ah, all correct then. Tell me, what of their descriptions?¡±

    ¡°Well, silver hair and a large maw for Honyopenyoko¡¯s leach-like form. As well as that red and purple ballgown of hers when she returned to a human-like form.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    That matches Brain¡¯s description of his Vampire almost exactly. Silver haired adolescent who warped into a monster. I suppose it makes sense that it and the other would look alike; sisters, perhaps?

    ¡°And the other?¡±

    ¡°We never received one from Momon¡­ As I recall, he merely recognized the description given by Red Glaive¡¯s sole survivor - Brita - as being Honyopenyoko herself.¡±

    Renner¡¯s newly full cup fell out of her hand and splattered the table she was lifting it from.

    "W-what?"

    How is that possible? If¡­ if Shalltear and Honyopenyoko are alike in appearance, then how- how could Momon have distincted them from that description? The one that Brita gave, all those months prior. I remember it, and Ainzach has just bolstered my recognition. Honyopenyoko is destroyed, vanquished. The battlefield was scorched for it, so thoroughly ruined that it had itself turned to sand. Shalltear continues to exist, though. Shalltear continues to exist?! How- how is that possible?!

    ¡°Well, Your Highness, it appears as if this link is drawing thin-¡±

    It¡¯s not possible! It can¡¯t be! Brain must have been mistaken in his identification of the vampire he saw earlier. He mentioned a white outfit, a mask, blond hair! Further, it didn¡¯t even recognize him! That¡¯s- that¡¯s it! He was merely mistaken. Gods, Chardelon, you¡¯ve gone and worked yourself up for nothing, for nothing!

    ¡°-I appreciate your having messaged me-¡±

    Though, Brain was certain. Absolutely certain. The style of speech. The voice. The way it dismissed him. The way it mocked him. The way it approached him, with complete and utter fearlessness. With complete and utter confidence. The way it disdained him. Its hand, which he knew the motion and dimensions of before it reached for him. Its nail, something burned so deeply into his soul that he doffed his profession as sellsword and reconsidered the purpose of his entire life.

    ¡°-If you wouldn¡¯t mind expressing my regard to Master Momon next time you speak-¡±

    And when all that was done, the way it forgot him.

    ¡°-I would appreciate-¡±

    The link snapped, and to her horror, Renner felt a screaming of that sense inside that marked when she had come upon a lie.

    ¡ª

    There¡¯s no- there¡¯s no sense in panic. Chardelon, stay yourself.

    Renner paused, returning her quill to its inkwell. Pressing her hands against her face, she rubbed her closed eyes, watching the sparks catch and feeling more than typical dizziness.

    There¡¯s no sense in panic. Nor fright. Nor rage. Falling to such does nothing. Hold fast, Chardelon. Hold fast, then resume.

    While her mind whirled on, her body was not given to the same sort of stamina, and in the painful motion of opening them, found herself slightly out of her previous position, having dragged inadvertently to the left.

    Ah, perhaps I''m being a tad reductive. I ought to be allowed a little panic. What else could keep me awake?

    Renner had never before known all the many varied flavors of exhaustion, and with each passing hour of her now second evening spent awake - a longer leg than she had ever done before - she felt herself stumbling unwittingly and unwelcome into new sensations. Her form had begun to rebel against her: her mastery over its movements and actions slowly slipping from her: time seeming to blur even with her eyes open; the jarring distinction between recalling this day¡¯s morning and the previous. The latest of these had been an aversion to magelight - something about the sharp, ghostly they threw off an agony to her. Ere night came fully, she had substituted these wholly for lamplight, having snatched it from its place in her drawing room¡¯s armoire. With a quick stint around the palace - a place which was only now beginning to bustle with the wearied men of the night prior that had bothered to dredge themselves up - she had taken the rest of what she needed and slipped back into her bedroom for an evening spent alone.

    Reaching her arms high above her head, she tugged on them, drawing them out a little further as she laced her fingers and rolled her wrists. Exhaling, she dropped from her stretch and took a swift sip of her tea, savoring its heat, before setting her cup down and returning to her labor. Very rarely was her desk a necessary indulgence, Renner in almost all cases simply working at her at her vanity. Maids had a habit of slipping into drawers and withdrawing whatever was writ within to share with others, and if signs of the desk¡¯s use lingered without its product, salacious rumors within a day¡¯s end were a near guarantee. This was not the case tonight, and her fold-out was spread with a number of maps, spare stationary, inks, quills, and a ruler and compass.

    Repeat those events of the Long Summer, perhaps skipping all the many actions I and the Blue Roses were taking.

    Renner hung for a moment, before shuffling her desk around to lay out a defense map for the ranges east of E-Rantel. Finding the fortress city at the map¡¯s edge, she traced roads out northeast, following them up to their bend near the forest of Tob, continuing on past the shadow of Azerlisia into Count Bajan¡¯s demesne, searching a sparse cluster of settlements on its outskirts, finding her location of desire.

    Upper Fire six, word comes to the palace that Imperial Knights have taken to torching hamlets on the border, Gazef, along with the warrior band is dispatched. Upper Fire ten, Gazef and the warrior band are lured into Carne, and after encountering an enigmatic masked magic caster who slew a band of ¡®Imperial¡¯ knights via a work of necromancy, are then set upon by the Sunlit Scripture. Most of the warrior band is slain, Gazef is about to be slain, before being rescued by this Ainz Ooal Gown. The Sunlit Scripture is ¡°driven off¡± by this Ainz Ooal Gown, an account only provided to Gazef by this Gown and one that seems increasingly false.

    Renner made for her leftmost inkwell, retrieving her quill and using a violet ink to mark the village, scrawled in thin text the name of the event and its date. Staring at the words a moment longer, Renner flicked her eyes back west, bearing down on the fortress city.

    Sometime in the next few days - damn you Ainzach for not giving me specifics - Momon and Nabe register with the adventurers guild in E-Rantel, immediately taking up an escort mission that takes them to Carne. On this escort, Momon - I believe - slays a goblin tribe, and tames the Wise King of the Forest, a legendary beast from deep in the wicked wood of Tob. It is in this next week that we have our upheaval here, a scheme likely years in the making from Boullope, my brother, Eight Fingers, Six Arms, the Death Spreading Brigade, and a handful of contacts, craftsmen, and traitors. This fails completely, and I, my father, and Gazef all live through the darkest hours of the sixteenth.

    Renner replaced the quill in its well and retrieved another, this one stained in black. With this, she marked the date of Darkness¡¯s arrival, and drew out a line along their likely route of travel, interspacing events and dates as needed before arriving at Carne. This sort of bespoke drafting of deduction was something she found dangerous and foolhardy, but her faculties had been so greatly taxed by the strain of the day that she found herself unable to proceed without such aids. What she was to do with them was something she had yet to decide, that question shoved off into the future. Finishing her scrawl, her gaze crept ever so slightly north of E-Rantel, only a league above.

    On the night of the nineteenth, Shalltear Bloodfallen and her thralls literally slake themselves on the freshly returned Death Spreading Brigade, the group having slipped away from their post north of Re-Estize to return home. This results in the near complete destruction of their band, Brain Unglaus only barely escaping after a direct encounter with the thing. That day, Guild Master Ainzach had sent adventurer teams out north of E-Rantel to hunt for the highwaymen, Bloodfallen encountering one such group and slaying it, yet leaving two survivors, one who slips away in the woods, and the other who is recovered after she repossesses her mind.

    A new color for the vampire; this time, a lively vermillion.

    Momon returns to E-Rantel by the twentieth at the latest, and is present for the great work that Zurrenorn performs in its graveyard, and along with his sorceress and mount, destroy the horde and slay its leaders. This included among them two skeletal dragons - things notably immune to magic, something his companion is dependent on. By the twenty-first, Momon and Nabe have been brought to the adventurers guild along with other high ranking teams, a meeting at which Momon provides the name Honyopenyoko for the vampire that assaulted the adventurer team and reveals his eighth tier spell sealing crystal, and then forge north along with another team to hunt down this vampire. They return that evening, having performed the deed, though the other team was slain to the last. This sight is then later examined and determined to have been utterly ruined, and this is taken as proof of his claim that he has slain Honyopenyoko despite him producing no body - something which isn¡¯t atypical for the destruction of undead, but neither did he proffer an article.

    Renner returned her implement, then nestled a finger under a small fold in the map, leveraging the whole thing up and withdrawing one underneath. This was another map, though at a much larger scale, rendering the whole of the kingdom¡¯s lands in low detail for decorative purposes. Dragging it up and over the other, she swiftly flattened it with her dexter hand, using her other to quickly plot colored dots in place of where she had written on the Duchy¡¯s map.

    Leap forward nearly two months to Lower Fire, and two individuals identifying as a merchant¡¯s daughter and butler arrive in town from the east, having - by their words - traveled from E-Rantel. The former is known for her haughtiness, rudeness, and general ill disposition, something the distinguished older man by the name of Sebas makes up for. At some point, Sebas encounters a girl thrown out from her brothel, and takes her in. On the third, a corrupt inspector and bladesman - the Phantom Devil of Six Arms - attempt to extort a bribe from Sebas about this matter, claiming he has committed an act of slavery. That day, my puppy - who was returning from a message run - and a vagrant Brain making his way west, have a simultaneous encounter with Sebas, saving an urchin from bullies, fighting off five assassins, and then going to the brothel and killing its guards to the last, capturing the Phantom Devil and the head of the Slavery Division.

    Another new color, this one ochre, she pausing to jot a number of estimated dates for their arrivals in specific towns, and their likely routes. Finished, she ripped away that map and grabbed yet another, this of the city of Re-Estize, this the map she had used to present her strategy to the party leaders of the adventurer band. Seeing it again, she flinched, unpleasant sensation seeming to flow from the thing. She made to swallow, but her mouth was much to dry. She downed her cup, and scrambled to refill; that sorted, she continued, marking Sebas¡¯s path around the city and his temporary manor of residence.

    Hold fast, Chardelon¡­ A day later, on the fourth, I make to close my personal war against Eight Fingers, strike my deal with Zanac and Raeven, and plot the end of the syndicate, drawing together a varied body of slapdash forces to leap on the opportunity left by Climb¡¯s little adventure. At some point that day, Tuare is kidnapped - likely by Six Arms personally - and a note left for Sebas for him to come to the compound. Then, somehow, between the last scouting the Blue Roses conduct that day, and the time of our scheduled assaults, fel-things from the netherworld slip from the ground, and slay Eight Fingers in those places to the last, then stripping them of anything worth anything. I launch my attacks, Gagaran, Tia, and Evileye encountering emptied targets, before the later make their way to Hilma¡¯s manor and encounter a demon of incredible power, something only Evileye is able to lay low. Before they can finish the thing, though, a dread devil appears by the name of Jaldabaoth, slays Gagaran and Tia with one spell, and then sets himself upon Evileye, before an intrepid Momon falls from the sky and intervenes - having been one of those heroes Raeven called to my aid. A fight ensues, Jaldabaoth retreating.

    For the fiend, carmine, Renner marking the etheric path of his teleport with crosses. Making further elaboration of the map, she drew out all the points struck by Jaldabaoth¡¯s forces, scribing the time of the last scout performed by the Blue Roses and the first time her forces saw them afterward. While for most targets, the spans of time began sometime midday and ended nearabouts the time of the Blue Roses assault, a scattered few did not have the latter time until past midnight - minor locations like courier stations that she intended to strike more so as cleanup than anything else. As was typical of the demon scout actions, these had been completely emptied, nothing remaining but the dust. With these markings, the Sebas anomaly was even more jarring, one yellow mark ensconced within a sea of red.

    At that time, Climb and his fellows encounter Sebas at the compound, do their business, and at its conclusion of their second little adventure together - notably, something demons do not interfere with - and upon Tuare¡¯s rescue, a flame wall goes up, encircling most of the city¡¯s storehouses. Inside, more fiends from the netherrealms make their business of murdering and stealing and all things foul, their commander proclaiming his intention to obtain an object of power. We, the forces of man, strike back early on the morning of the fifth, with adventurers as our front. I predict the enemy¡¯s behavior, use that to slip Darkness through the line, and we take our victory by way of the enemy¡¯s apparent mistake, and Jaldabaoth proclaims defeat and retreat. In addition to the ransacking and wanton killing, a great taking seems to have taken place, many thousands of our citizens not slain nor sacrificed but simply missing.

    Finishing the last, Renner disarmed herself of her quill, eyes tracing the thin annotations back and forth, lips slipping a little agape. Etched like this, the conclusion was much too rote.

    Six beings. The parallels are obvious. Six beings of transcendent, unimpeachable power. Beings in groups of three, two, and one spare. Momon and Nabe fought the vampire and lied about their actions, giving it a false identity and claiming it to be dead when it was not. Sebas and Jaldabaoth, two beings working in concert. Momon and Jaldabaoth came into conflict, yes, but Darkness and Sebas are both from out east. These four are - Sebas, Momon, Nabe, and Shalltear - all arriving in E-Rantel in relatively quick succession, though for Momon and Nabe this may be considered Raeven¡¯s doing. One who is not yet directly connected nor is yet to reappear is Gown, yet whom Momon and Nabe appear to shaddow. The question then is a matter of relation. Are relations between the four and two hostile - as it would so seem - or is Momon is as amicable to Jaldabaoth as he is to Shalltear? Well, the former feigned a loss too.

    Renner turned away, spying what she could of the fifth¡¯s last light beyond her window. The dusk had already come and went, the sun lost beneath the horizon, only fading streaks of orange staining the darkening sky. It was exactly like a thousand such skies she had seen, something that made the moment all the queerer for her. An incredible weight came down on her, the steady detachment she had felt for her last sprint vanishing as if it had never existed at all. Her chest seized. With a few maps, a few inks, and a few minutes, she had outlined a conspiracy between six beings that had been described by all the finest warriors and witches she knew as being fearfully powerful; beings which had mimicked humanity; beings which had intersected her life and the lives of her fellows every which way; two of whom she had interacted with personally, the one she could see of such unearthly beauty that Renner knew no equal to her; one which had utterly transformed Brain, and yet completely forgotten him; one of which had smitten Evileye so much that she verged on madness; one of which had saved Gazef¡¯s life - and with it, preserved Re-Estize¡¯s entire political order; one of which had outmaneuvered Renner¡¯s scheme completely and ripped her victory out from under her; one which had taken interest in Climb. It was the sort of grandeur reserved for scripture, and yet she, a lonesome princess burrowed somewhere in an evening, had found it.

    This is in his favor, isn¡¯t it? He is to be revered. To be cherished. A hero of men greater than all else. Jaldabaoth; a wicked villain whose name appears in no prior lore. Momon, also a figure who was unknown to us but two months ago. Of course they would fight. Of course they would come to a draw. It¡¯s so¡­ so masterful. A story, so electric as to be believed. A story that fooled me. Momon is not merely in league with the enemy, he is the enemy. This is not a matter of axis, is it? I have not stumbled upon a concordat, nor an alliance.

    The last of Renner¡¯s equilibrium burned away like a hair taken to candle flame.

    What I have found is an organization.

    ¡ª

    Her break had crept slowly, her movements growing more erratic and less tempered for the better part of two hours, until she had once found herself raging, going completely nonlinear, with wild tears running down her face, and an overwhelming desire to dash out of her room, out into the night, to find Climb and Lakyus and perform that retreat she had imagined all those months prior from Barbro. She had not done this, managing to arrest herself just enough to hide her cries from the maids and whomever else stalked the palace at night. She found herself unable to still, at one point, shuddering so intensely that she nearly slipped off her feet, saved from the floor with a timely catch of a nearby chair. Animalistic urges overcame her - panics, fears, sorrows - but she was never freed of her mind, it disgorging some new terrifying fact of this reality every few minutes. It was untenable, and she agreed with herself to perform a withdrawal to her bed, and yet, when she pressed her hand into the comforter, she suddenly felt the place loathsome, as if it was where she would go to die. She instead chose the far corner of her room, under - and thus, hidden from - the window, stumbling down onto her rump and balling up in a way she had not done since she was a little girl. This was where she was now, tears for the most part dry and hiccups far between.

    The sealing crystal, no wonder I was never able to make the math resolve. It wasn¡¯t used, was it? With a wizard like that Gown, likely not. What does that mean? What does it mean that he proffered a crystal of the eighth tier as a simple excuse? Nothing- nothing can do that. No one. The monster of the east only knows to the sixth. The sixth! Call- call it another lie from Arwintar, a deception disseminated by its academy. Say he knows to the seventh. Say he knows to the eighth! That doesn¡¯t explain this. He couldn¡¯t display something like that. An eighth- a frozen eighth tier spell stored in solid mana is not the enemy revealing its hand, it¡¯s them hiding it.

    The shadow of laughter escaped her mouth, a few chittered exhalations as she found her mouth curled unwillingly into a smile.

    What did he fight there? What spell rended the earth so completely that soil turned to sand? What was unleashed on that spot? What did so? What did so?!

    Another painful blundering on through, thoughts having a nasty way of interposing themselves between one instant and the next, mauling her as she passed.

    It¡¯s pointless to ask. A world-ending magic, plausibly. Something fit for the ending of mankind. The rending of this land from mountain to sea. Mayhap this whole city be turned to sand, or to dust, or any other myriad lifeless powders. Mayhap I be, another of the many millions annihilated so utterly that the only trace of my being here is the silt a traveler brushes out of their eye as they arrive in that great desert rumored to once be a kingdom of men. A new doom, then. Transmutation to raw material. I wonder if I were to beg, they would turn me to gold?

    Renner¡¯s gentle whooping stopped, a slight sigh escaping her as she held off more tears. Her face had already begun to dry, and she had no desire to ruin a good lament by drawing it out. She began to chide herself for her earlier bolts ahead, her desire but hours prior to know her enemy now seeming foolish. To her great defeat, she found that this thinking was not something she could halt, the great churning of her mind continuing on whether she wanted to or not.

    All this was here. All this was here months ago, and yet I did not notice. Perhaps I would know by now if I did. Why not? Simple distraction? Lost in the girlish flits of my youth? My little war. That tiny home I planned to carve for me and my love? There are other things I¡¯m missing, no doubt. Signs further in any direction. But none of that seems to matter, for it has come here; come here and taken root.

    Her head lolled down onto her shoulder, she again criticizing her thoughts. Defeat was useless, depression doubly so. Were she to live, it would require exacting accuracy of thought, even greater precision of her performance. She needed to grasp her foe in perfect detail; absolute, complete knowledge of them, their capabilities, and their plans. Falling to despair would do none of that, instead burning what little, uncertain time she had left.

    It¡¯s all a preparation, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s the only way I have to account for their actions. Characters, as they were, stepping out onto the plain and introducing themselves. Quilting the beginnings of lore, of legend. Why expend his demons in the hunting of adventurers? Why bother taking the kingdom of its coin? Why bother being known at all? Why the act? The creeping forward? It¡¯s all a preparation, something concrete in the distance. Something they need the hearts and capitals of lowly things for.

    It''s a slow, ponderous thing. A steady plot to encircle the kingdom, nudge it steadily in their preferred direction. Probing its weaknesses, culling its strong, and ingratiating in its halls of power. Words of favor will ring for all. Further, convenient, versatile evildoers. Another vampire for the hunting, one whose lore can be written however the enemy desires. A devil who can appear- rather, be applied anywhere, a monstrously powerful and devious foe who is at once loathsome, conniving, wicked, and defeatable. Heroes who can be used much the same.

    This is not limited to storybook matters, either. Sebas and his mistress - I will restrain from naming her seventh in this - have done a great deal of market investigation. Making purchases, establishing ties, creating history with the Merchants guild - with the Magicians, too. They aren¡¯t aping for destruction, for a barren land, for one great slaughter where they crunch all of the kingdom or perhaps all of mankind underfoot. Perhaps they would enjoy such things, but no, this is not that. This is conquest, not mere subjugation, not mere subordination, but complete subsumption.

    Renner adjusted herself slightly, raising her head to trace the patterns of her ceiling. She had never once before seen her room from this position, all the little reliefs in its form cast anew by the gentle halo of her lamp¡¯s mantle. There was a serenity to the sight, one of the little oddities she tended to stumble upon in the mazy corridors of Valencia. She was struck by the deep physicality of her space; that everything around her truly existed, material things that clung to the world the same way she did.

    Before, I marked the Four and Six as not being enthroned above, rather, that the Godhead was a mount unto itself. And, that if they did not spring from divine wells, that they were things beyond us, unknowns from without the knowledge of mankind. What if they are not merely without I, but without all? Things so transcendent, so supreme, that mankind can do nothing in their shadow but be slain? Not as would be a cur by a baker tired of chasing off mongrels begging for scraps, but as a weevil cooked alive in his oven. In the face of that, are not the insects that catch the attention of greater things truly doomed? All the land is set for a ripping out, pressing down on all the people and polity ¡®till their bodies pop?

    What of I? What do I have? Am I indistinguishable? Another frail thing for the quashing? Distinct as I am from the rest of my clade, my body is akin to them, and my wits seem frail compared to the enemy. Jaldabaoth certainly ran a right loop around me, though, perhaps I fed directly into his plot. Making the battle true and pitched, a devious scheme to slip Momon through when - absent me - they would have manipulated events to that end anyway. I have been a useful implement, a lever to thrust this way and that, bolstering their narrative wherever needed. If I am lucky, perhaps my actions have earned their favor, and I will be used ever more until the sun is alway lost beneath the horizon.

    Renner considered the matter a moment longer, before deciding it was dead, and reeling herself back to another point she had left unresolved.

    Still, frightening that they would know about my assault on Eight Fingers. Raeven surely did not give the full breadth of detail to Momon when he hired him, and I did not disseminate full orders to anyone but the Blue Roses until later that evening. Did they work with only a few hours of warning? Seems overdifficult, even for abominations. More likely, a traitor or perhaps an imposter was slipped somewhere into the ranks of my forces, a thing for the listening and for harbinging, and it was its call that roused the enemy.

    Though, how did they know to do that? Those missives of mine were sent early, but that only provides them a few hours at best. I only conceptualized the plan a night prior, but spoke nothing but the outline to Climb - only describing it to the Blue Roses on the morrow - and the evidence it was built on was only provided to me the morning of the third. Perhaps this group had already taken a similar of Cygnaeus¡¯s notes earlier, but that shouldn¡¯t have informed them as to the specifics of my retaliation. Have I been so thoroughly exceeded? Predicted and accounted for?

    That seems¡­ untrue. They struck what was in the note, and what I had made mention of to the rest. Those two courier stations - those ones hidden in taverns. Though, I named only one of them a target, dismissing the other and telling Tina to think nothing of it¡­ No, not to ¡®think¡¯ nothing of it, but to ¡®speak¡¯ nothing of it. The two I mentioned to her were struck, the third was not.

    Renner twitched, then, curled up a little tighter. The room around her suddenly seemed foreign, akin to the dark wood of her nightmare, shadows seeming to tower larger and reach deeper. Her eyes danced in the black. She would need to keep vigil ¡®till morning.

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 6]

    ¡°Renner, you look tired.¡±

    ¡°Mm, quite. I haven''t- didn¡¯t have a restful sleep.¡±

    I have to speak to her about this, but how am I to do it?

    Renner met Lakyus¡¯s gaze, her mossy eyes breaking away and giving Renner a thorough lookover. Renner¡¯s appearance was slapdash, her hour spent fixing it in lue of Lakyus¡¯s arrival wholly inadequate. A proper remake of her appearance was something beyond her, her hands trembling far too much to do the thin and precise work her typical look required, nor could she summon maids to assist her, the maps she had drafted still sitting furled on her desk. Likewise, she could take no proper washing of herself, the risk of slumbering in the tub too great a threat. Sleep was a vice. Instead, she hoped that today, she could get away with the very basics: an unwrinkled dress, foundation to hide the worst of her dark circles, and hair done with the least elaboration possible.

    Chardelon, find- find a way through this, with everything you can muster. How am I to talk to Lakyus?

    The enemy had been listening, ears folded up in the thick summer air. Scrying, divination, illusion, the method did not matter. The enemy had heard every word spoken in her presence. The enemy had seen her deduction. Seen her fit. Seen her sink. They knew she knew of them. The only hope now was to keep herself just the right amount of panicked, imbalanced in just that right way that would not have the world disgorge abominations around her for her seizing back through ethereal doors.

    A hidden warning would not work. She would mark the word and break in performance just a twip - a widening of the eyes, a lurching in her speech. It would doom us both. Code is impossible too. I could surely speak it, but it would slip past her notice - and, even if she had learned it, would fall to that previous trap of mine.

    ¡°The same for me. This business with the statuette is¡­ well, unsettling.¡±

    ¡°Any specifics about it?¡±

    This- this would be prime for that. Is there some way to branch off these words? Some secret scream?

    ¡°The grader who cast magic to evaluate it collapsed on the spot.¡±

    ¡°A ward or curse?¡±

    ¡°No, he just swooned.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right.¡±

    No, the endeavor is pointless, isn¡¯t it? Lakyus is of no greater capacity than anyone else, but my evesdroppers are lithe as I, hanging in wait above my head. Anything I say, they¡¯ll know first.

    Renner whinged. The conversation was going completely uncontrolled, she only a passive participant who could only stay well clear of the crisis at hand. The world of men was to come to an end, the Kingdom to be destroyed. She needed true allies, those that would never betray her, never turn, never fall to the hands of the enemy. Lakyus was one, and yet Renner was incapable of speaking to her, communicating the vast and terrible danger lurking just out of sight.

    What of Lakyus and I? Are our years of friendship for naught? Surely she knows my intricacies, the minute details of a girl such as myself. What if I were to leave a tell? Some sign that things are not right. Lifting my cup with my dexter, perhaps? Would that work?

    ¡°Enough talk about dark things. I¡­ must admit, I¡¯ve been looking forward to this much more than I¡¯ve let on.¡±

    Dammit! A new topic? How can I- Gods, there¡¯s no convincing way to talk her back. Assent.

    ¡°Eh?¡±

    ¡°You have no idea how much they rip into me for doing things like this.¡±

    ¡°They do tend to, don¡¯t they?¡±

    If I- If I act out of sorts as a way to alert her, she¡¯ll remark before she¡¯ll understand and destroy us both. Perhaps- perhaps if we are at a distance, conversation between us would be less obvious. Message?

    ¡°It¡¯s not even humorous at this point.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    There¡¯s no telling if message is safe. The manatic expanse is theirs. They have magics that well exceed anything we are capable of. Damn this! I never- I never thought that I would need such subtle implements. Damn you, Lakyus! Damn you for spurning me! For arresting me from my wild explorations. I could have had this! A system of motions of such speech.

    ¡°Renner?¡±

    ¡°Mm?¡±

    ¡°You seem overquiet.¡±

    A mistake. I¡¯m being too clipped. I haven¡¯t a clue what to say. Proffer an excuse, something true.

    ¡°I want for a little rest, is all.¡±

    ¡°We can do this another day.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s no matter. No matter at all. All things well to be.¡±

    There¡¯s nothing, is there? Nothing I may do. I¡¯m spent. I¡¯m utterly spent. I have no way to speak to her on this, never mind-

    Renner heard the door to her room unlatch, flitting her eyes to see a hasty Climb enter. The sight of him was oddly fearful, a reminder of what warm future now seemed a daydream. Though she felt her chest draw tighter, she looked on, resolving herself not to embitter the sight of him.

    Climb, how I wish to see you. To eat up every span of you. Devour all that I can, licking up the little bits and picking my nails for a second helping. Climb, spasm of my tongue and pop of my lips. You are a thing for the taking, for the keeping of. For the ownership of. Were I given the option, I would have carved out a clause in my emancipation that named you the one exception. So, come and sit for a time, and send away all my nightmares about tomorrow¡¯s absolution.

    ¡°Apologies, Your Highness. The Magician Guild¡¯s Master of Wands and Staves wanted my report personally. Lady-¡±

    ¡°Lakyus.¡±

    ¡°Lakyus. Sorry. Are you here-¡±

    ¡°For the bloodleaf.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    Darling, I ordered you to come.

    ¡°Climb, come find a seat.¡±

    Climb bowed, lifting himself over, before gingerly slipping beside Renner around her table.

    If I am truly fated to end, I ought to take what little enjoyment I can of this, yes? This¡­ this matter of conspiracy can wait until after.

    In its center was the purpose of their meet: a platter layed out with a number of sliced fruits, sweets, pastries, and otherwise, all encompassing her tea-set, three cups layed out and her pot already having been filled with boiled water, beside it sitting a stout clay jar. It was the celebration intended for the defeat of Eight Fingers, but, as Renner suspected, this was now made irrelevant by the enemy¡¯s decapitation, she had felt no harm in setting it for today with Lakyus. Renner lifted off the lid, revealing many tongue-like shapes set one overtop another. She reached the fingers of her right hand and withdrew three of the finger length maroon leaves, setting one in each cup.

    ¡°Thank you, Princess.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Climb.¡±

    This done, she went for the pot, slipping her hand underneath the handle and lifting it. Bringing the pot over, she used her other hand to pinch the stem of a leaf, holding it in place while she made her improper pour. The water stained immediately, turning a deep and pungent red as the leaf somehow shriveled. The cup filled much too quickly, and before she could tilt it away, its contents overtopped the rim and scalded her hand.

    Why?!

    ¡°Renner-¡±

    ¡°Your Highness!¡±

    She winced, taking in a sharp pull of breath between her teeth. She reflexively gripped the cup tighter, shaking it such that more spilled onto her hand, leaking to a great jerk where she did more of the same. Climb swiftly grabbed the pot away from her, Renner finally letting go and bringing her hand to her mouth to suckle off a little of what had burned her, heat building in her cheeks the same way as it had done in her hand.

    Of all the times to fumble a pour, today? Now?! Chardelon, you¡¯re falling apart.

    Climb seemed lost as to what to do, returning the now dirtied pot to the center of the platter. Lakyus reached out right after.

    ¡°Renner, give me your hand.¡±

    Renner held it out, Lakyus grabbing it with her own, flipping it palm side up, and flowing her magics into it. A more gentle warmness drove out the painful one, pains and aches from the rest of her form also sloughing. The skin lost its growing redness, back to the same tones as before. The moment was slipping from her, mind ground to bits.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Renner, you look terrible.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡±

    ¡°Renner, are you okay?¡±

    ¡°M-m. I certainly am.¡±

    ¡°No you¡¯re not. You¡¯re exhausted. Look, we needn¡¯t do this tea now. When was the last time you slept?¡±

    I need to- I need to say something.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s quite alright. I- uh-¡±

    ¡°Renner, don¡¯t evade me, when was the last time you slept?¡±

    ¡°Morning. Morning of the fourth.¡±

    ¡°Morning- You¡¯ve gone through two continuous days?!¡±

    No, wait, my out! I just, I need her to vanquish my exhaustion, just as she did my burn. Yes, yes I ask that.

    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t suppose I could- uh, entreat you to bestow a little of your restorative magics, could I?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°This matter with Jaldabaoth, I- I am perhaps¡­ uh, a tad bit shaken-¡±

    ¡°¡®A tad-¡¯ Renner, you''re going to bed.¡±

    The world lept, her room seeming to jink and take her along with it, delirium bleeding in.

    ¡°No, I-¡±

    Sleep is the province of the enemy. No, not the enemy, The Enemy. Everyone is sleeping. I can¡¯t be forced down now. What silencing of me would they enact in my sleep? They know I know. They know I know!

    ¡°Climb, come round and take her up from the other side. Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that! We both know she wouldn¡¯t mind!¡±

    Renner¡¯s head jerked to follow Lakyus¡¯s movements, before she could reckon it, her friend was lifting her out of her chair from the right. Climb took up the other side, the two overlapping their arms behind her, the firm caress of Lakyus¡¯s bare arm and the cold embrace of Climb¡¯s armor pulling her up and out of her chair.

    ¡°I need to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°We can speak on the morrow. You need to sleep.¡±

    Renner was already moving, legs stumbling over one another as she was carried to bed.

    ¡°Restore-¡±

    ¡°We won, Renner.¡±

    ¡°No, we¡¯ve-¡±

    ¡°-We won. And yes, Jaldabaoth took flight and yes he brought many with him, but it¡¯s not an immediate danger. Not yet. We destroyed the bulk of his forces and shook him of his objective. We¡¯ve taken a victory.¡±

    You¡¯ve lost! You¡¯ve been tricked into it! You have done nothing! The Enemy is among you, not merely in your ranks, but at your head! They have taken the capital of men, the labor of men, the hearts of men! How am I to shake this kingdom of that? To awaken you? To rally you? How else am I to live?! I am not one of you! It is not right for me to perish alongside you! I am the seer, the knower and doer of things! Why am I condemned to die alongside you?! Damn you, Lakyus! Damn you!

    Renner was set down onto the bed, Climb reaching around to rip out the covers and get her under them. Renner bucked, trying to draw herself up, but a placating Lakyus held her fast.

    ¡°I just want you to get some rest.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s- that¡¯s right, Your Highness.¡±

    His voice stirred something in her, and Renner came upon the worst of her epitomes yet.

    The conversation I had with Zanac and Raeven. The Enemy knows of my Climb. Of my darling love! They know of him! No, no! Damn this! Why?! Why must I lose him to the stamping out of insects?

    ¡°We¡¯ll be here on the morrow, alright?¡±

    This is pointless, isn¡¯t it?

    Renner went limp, falling back onto the bed, all the energy of her form crashing out and leaving her powerless. She could make no impulse, merely able to look upon the two readying her for bed. Lakyus, now convinced of Renner¡¯s stillness, stepped aside to fill her a glass of water from the pitcher on her nightstand; a blushing Climb working her out of her flats and setting them on the ground. Her head sunk into the pillow, and, with a little lag, she joined Climb in the covering of herself.

    ¡°Renner, is that alright?¡±

    ¡°No- no entry.¡±

    ¡°For the maidstaff? Got it.¡±

    Renner finally fought her way fully under the covers, the last of her desire to rebel lost somewhere between the sheets and the comforter. Pitching her to the side, she saw a wryly smiling Lakyus and a fretting Climb getting the last of the blankets in place. With a tentative pat from the latter, Renner caught his gaze, a little glimmer hidden deep in his eyes. With that, the two were off, the pair striding away as Renner¡¯s sight blurred and faded away.

    ¡ª

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 7]

    Renner awoke in the black. Whether it was past midnight or not, she did not know, but she could feel that electricity in her flesh that told her she had rested completely. Her eyes whirred open, her rubbery tongue probing the dry, off-tasting teeth in her mouth, feeling that itchy swelling in her loins that urged her to relieve herself. She herself drew up through the hazy tickling of her muscles and flushed her mouth with a glass of water, following it with a second. Then, drew herself up out of bed, planting her two feet and rising completely. She reached behind her neck, remembering the dimensions and articulations of her fingers as she found the tied ribbon on the back of her neck and undid it, its silhouette embossed on her skin from the hours spent sleeping on it. That undone, she grasped either end, pulling them apart and peeling off the talcy fabrics clinging to her skin. Fresh night air rushed into the gap, she giving a little gasp as her back was once again exposed to the air.

    Enough of a mouth created, she gave a jerk downward to expose her shoulders, before letting go of the ribbons and using her hands to free her arms of her sleeves one at a time. That done, she caught that dangling cloth on her flanks and tugged it, ripping herself of her dress¡¯s hold. Once she fought it to her hips, it fell away onto a stiff pile on the floor, so soaked in sweat that she struggled to free her legs from it. Her undergarments went next, dropping them with little fanfare on the spot. She reached down and gathered up the mass, feet pittering across rugs and tile before she dropped it into the laundry basket. Returning to her desk where she had last left her lantern, she retrieved it, opening the topmost drawer and patting it until she felt the sparker, drawing it out and using it to light the mantle. Back in its glow, she carried it into the bathroom, setting it on a sink for the washing of hands.

    Letting the handle drop and clink against the glass, she turned around, moving to the corner of the room where a hearth with low smoldering coals was set upon with four copper buckets already filled with water. Foisting one up, she lumbered it over to the tub, catching its bottom on the tub¡¯s lip and slowly pouring it in. Replacing it in the pile, she did the same with a second, before setting that down and lowering herself into the tub, water only rising to below the midpoint of her calves. With all the implements and soaps she had nearby, she washed herself, scrubbing herself of all the grime and stench that clung to her, using a cream to gently rid her legs of hair, resting a hot washcloth on her face and pressing it between the cast of her features, and giving a thorough cleaning of all her folds and nooks. Satisfied, she undid the stop at the bottom of the tub, letting the water drain away as she rinsed herself in the contents of the third bucket, then using the fourth to wet and clean her hair, filling and emptying it of all manner of aid, combing it out until she caught nothing on each pass, and drying herself.

    Again rinsed, she applied an exfoliant to her skin, rubbing it in and swirling it with her palms, little motes of skin falling off with it, of such vigor that she was radiant and shining by the time she had finished. Then, setting to her face, she applied a little more of her wash, this time mixing it with the strained juices of a yuzu, scouring all she could. Face again dried, she then went about cleaning her teeth, gently biting and tugging with the bristled end of a root, then running it across her teeth as she continually rinsed and spat out with water, then swallowing a moist paste of crushed herbs, to which she then chased with more water.

    Leaving the bathroom along with her lamp, she next went to her closet, dressing herself in fresh undergarments. Shuffling through the containers, she eventually selected an aureolin dress and donned herself in it, slipping it over and threading its sides together, then going in with her hands to push out all the frills and even all the tufts at her collar and cuffs. Matching it with a pair of cream colored heels, she slipped them on and buckled them.

    That sorted, she went to vanity and began to do her makeup. For this, lamplight alone would not suffice, and she went for her hand mirror, flipping it open for the clear and bright picture of her it produced. With that in her dexter, she layered on foundations, concealers, blushes, rouges, eyeliners, and otherwise, none to any great effect besides sharpening her already deft appearance. Lastly, she went for her nails, pulling the lid off of a small jar and gingerly dipping a needle into it, a quivering drop of that same cream color as her shoes clinging to it as she with drew it; tapping the drop onto her right thumbnail, it near instantly spread across the entirety of it, setting as quickly as did all magical polishes. She worked through the rest of her nails, eventually returning the lid to the jar and setting down the needle, sighing as she finished. Almost an hour had passed since she had awoken, Renner being as thorough with her appearance as she knew how.

    There is nothing. No flight. No escape. No way to slip over the hill and out of sight. I am not alone, nor will I ever be. No matter, Chardelon. No matter. There is no option but this. Were I to do this in a month¡¯s time, or two, or a dozen, who knows how little I will have left to offer? I suppose The Enemy, and if that¡¯s the case, then I will be completely within their reckoning. No, at this hour, I have the choice. I have the initiative. I must make it. I must. I must. I must!

    In the most difficult action she had ever attempted, Renner stood out of her chair, took one step away from her vanity and turned to face her empty room.

    And in the ending of all things.

    ¡°I, the Third Princess Renner of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, request parley.¡±

    For a moment, nothing. Then, out of the black, came a response.

    ¡°Request accepted. We will require a minute of preparation.¡±

    The voice shook her, not merely foul and gravely as would storybooks and codices would describe the fel, but utterly wrong, as if hearing it was itself a horrid crime. There was a haziness to its edges, a static crackle that made clear the timbre was that of something wholly unhuman imitating its method of speaking. Her shudder slowed, and she drew herself a little straighter, eyes dancing across the space to find the voice¡¯s origin, it having seemed to come from all directions at once. For a brief moment, she looked straight ahead, danced away, then snapped back. There, deep in her shadow cast upon the opposite wall by her lantern were two crimson pinpoints of light. She met the beady motes, blinking once to be sure of what she was seeing, before the pair winked out. She was left alone with her breath, shaky pulls in and out as she used all her strength to keep it steady.

    This was not a mistake. This was not a mistake. This was the only option. There was nothing else but this. Chardelon- Chardelon, my darling. Stay yourself. Stay yourself and think. How am I to bargain? What am I to offer first? Eyes and ears? A description of all the subtleties lost on their shadowy observers? Surely that''s an object of their desire. Further, as a political lever. A way to send this nation¡¯s politics this way and that. I have already done so in their favor, but I can do much greater. I can offer a greatening of them, a deep embedding in the Kingdom¡¯s core. I have my blood. I am a royal! I am in line for the throne, however distant. I may give them a Queen Theiere if they so wish. Surely that would be enough, yes? Surely. It is-

    Her shadow again twisted, not the red points of before, but a singular blackening in one spot. It swelled, growing in scale to the size of the fist as a pulping ichor poured out into the air and hung. Then, as if dropped against the ground, it splattered out in all directions, wavering streaks of ur-purple stretching with it until it formed an oval disk that stretched from floor to ceiling. Then, from that most unwholesome thing, came a flash of black and scarlet - a boot and a leg. It was long and thin, donned in a fabric with thin stripes that ran up its length, Renner following them to see the rest of it stepped through. Even without his mask, the devil was perfectly recognizable from the rest of his description, and she fell forward onto her knees, realizing all the many openings, sentences, and conversations she had practiced in her mind over the last hour were useless.

    There can be no negotiation here. There¡¯s nothing else I may do.

    Renner pitched herself forward, lowering from her kneel into a bow as low as she could muster.

    ¡°I surrender. I offer my service without condition or reservation. I, Her Highness Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself, fifth in line to the throne of Re-Estize, the Golden Princess, give myself unto you for you to do as you see fit.¡±

    Renner slowly raised her gaze, meeting nothing but a hungry smile.

 Movement IV: The Subject of Names (1)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 7]

    His grin drew back, white teeth slipping from view as his gaze soured and turned neutral.

    ¡°Rise.¡±

    Chardelon, this was correct of you. Through surrender, you may eke out a moment more, be months, days, or a few precious hours.

    Renner returned to her knees, then gently set herself on her haunches and rose. Her immediate closure of negotiations before so much as opening remarks could be levied was not something she planned to do. That it had been Jaldabaoth rather than a lesser sent in the organization¡¯s stead had shaken her, but the factor that sealed the matter for her was degrees less subtle.

    What a sharp face you have, Jaldabaoth.

    Her new masters had, with this act, dismissed all pretense of limited or partial cooperation. Rather than the gilded lapis mask of his encounters with the Blue Roses, what was resting on his face was a pair of eyeglasses. It was a disclosure of identity, and even if she could not exploit it to any end, he had revealed himself to her when he had not done so to the people of Re-Estize; knowledge that she had earned through divining the existence of his plot. It was at once an award and an admittal: that the conspiracy she had drawn out from the space between really did exist, and that they could confirm this to her without fear.

    He has confessed to a lie, and with that, confessed to all lies. Further, he has destroyed any basis for further elaboration of terms. They had every capacity to slay me when I made my outreach to Lakyus, yet did not; they had the excellence to send a lesser, yet they did not; they had the ability to speak with me without legitimizing my claims, yet did not. Were I now to attempt a further discussion, a delicate jockeying to gain concessions from the devil in exchange, I would only hamper myself. I am of value to them, of such that the liability of my continued ability to draw breath is somehow acceptable; this, for a conspiracy so foul and rotten that it has here-to-for remained undiscovered in the taking and killing of tens-of-thousands. To do less for them is, thus, regressive and without gain. Power is only to be had in slavery.

    ¡°Forgive me, is there a manner in which I should address you.¡±

    ¡°Select one.¡±

    His what? Majesty? Excellency? There¡¯s no telling if he¡¯s anything I know of; calling him a king or an emperor may be offensive - a tacit implication of weakness, or of succession. Perhaps he holds some rank exclusive to the netherrealms. Impiety? Foulness? Evilness? Who''s to say? Not him, obviously. Fall back on something trite.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    The fiend brokered no reaction, his gaze unchanged. Renner¡¯s eyes darted across him, finding the descriptions given of Jaldabaoth - if not inaccurate - less than complete. Mention of his thinness, poise, the strange style of dress that was at once elegant yet somehow immodest, the snaking metallic tail that seemed to rest itself on the air, were all true, but the ways in which those words came together was utterly lacking to describe the true and utter sacrilege of his existence. It was a failure of language, a debt incurred from the adventurous urge to overuse superlatives. All but one of these fearsome descriptions realized themselves before her, the sardonic politeness with which he spoke even in battle wholly absent.

    An act, then. He is not merely a fiend, but an icon. He is surely cruel, and perhaps has a little of that feyish gaiety known to torturers, but the specifics of the actions he conducted outside this room and donned of his mask have little relevance to now. All the better, then. I may simply dismiss his behavior which I did not witness, for it was never true to begin with.

    A wavering from the luxurious black, Renner snapping to watch its violets join with a new yellow as another figure stepped through. Akin to the devil in front of her, it had some semblance to the shape of a taller man, though its head was not merely flat, but smooth, as if a carpenter had taken to the face of a person and sanded it down until no features remained. Only three depressions marked its visage, in rough correlation to the proper places for a pair of eyes and a mouth, sinking away into an inky darkness that lamp behind her had no power to dispel. Along with its gropeful hands, the figure was of a greater monstrousness than the devil. It stepped forward, and as Renner tried to make sense of its strange overcoat and even stranger jacket, its form and dress shuddered alike. Faster than she could track, it altogether shrunk into a replica of her.

    ¡°What is the name of the maid on duty?¡±

    A simile of her voice came back to her, near to the sound she knew, yet somehow hollow-seeming, as if its lower tones had been ripped away. Sharp confusion gave way to immediate fear, some deep measure inside her she had never once known telling her to flee. Before her was her, her very face and figure, in her same aureolin dress, donned in her same cream-colored nails, and hair made-up in the same style, though with a discordance she could not place. It was her appearance, down to the finest detail, yet somehow wrong, as if the world had disgorged a blasphemy against her. Her legs felt ready to give. She kept herself from stuttering in her response.

    ¡°Per the roster, it should be El¡¯ya¡±

    ¡°And the guard?¡±

    ¡°Knight Frether.¡±

    It¡¯s unmirrored, isn¡¯t it?

    The moment clicked, Renner eating up as much of its appearance as she could and feeling as much as hers as she could reckon.

    That strand of hair on my left. The clasp of my dexter hand over my other. Pray tell, is that not what it¡¯s doing? On the sides of its body? It appears to me as I do in portraits; how a renderer sees me. Its voice? No, my voice? It must be the same. Another property of my personal experience that does not transfer to observations without, as wrong to me as it sounds when I place my hands over my ears and speak the same. To me, it is discomposing; but to others, it is indistinguishable. In my very physicality, they possess more knowledge of me than I do.

    ¡°All correct, then.¡±

    A wild and wonderful sense of danger came over her, a wide, panicked smile growing on her face as the creature effortlessly duplicated her style of speech.

    Hours was hopeful. I am to live but minutes.

    The revelation was chilling, a diminishing of all her previous efforts. Had she, in her delirium, revealed the breadth of her suspicions to Lakyus, there would be no need for immediate, violent intervention on the part of her new masters. Rather, a simple killing - and in a way undreamed of by even the most wildeyed bards - a slot-in replacement. Renner imagined the reconciliatory conversation, the creature before her replicating her without flaw, spinning dulcet and sorrowful apologies and walkbacks to the Blue Roses, working them down from a warpath that she had spent her life to give.

    ¡°I would be in my evening wear by now.¡±

    The clone cocked its head in exactly the way she would.

    ¡°Eh? Apologies, mark me a dullard for not coming to that already.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a set in the closet. Left side, six deep, fourth shelf.¡±

    ¡°Verily? Thank you.¡±

    Perhaps such a being would be perfect for my imitation. An actress, no?

    The thing came nearer, passing her by to grab the lamp off her desk, before doffing its shoes and gently making its way across the floor to the closet in a way that enamored her.

    ¡°Come.¡±

    Renner broke from her spell and turned back to Jaldabaoth, seeing him gesture to the hanging void. She bowed as apology.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    He made for the mere, Renner rising from her genuflect and following after. Then, quite simply, he stepped through. She came to its fore and felt herself slow.

    Chardelon, that your new masters had magics beyond reckoning was something you knew. Something akin to a doorway or portal was an inevitability. Step through.

    She issued a silent sigh, before standing up a little taller, and stepping into the black. Her leg entered, and before it touched anything on the other side, the whole of her was pulled into the slip. The light crunched, streaks of unworldly color drawing in all directions as they swirled around her; there was no source in the dark, yet the flesh of her face in the periphery of her vision was still lit. She took a breath, but felt no chill as the air passed through her mouth and into her, as if she had filled herself with something other than air; nor could not hear it, all the sound around her supplanted by a low hum. Her heart, having been thrashing inside her chest for all this time, faded away entirely, stilling itself without seizing. Renner lost all sense of direction, no sensation but the sight of nothing before her - a blackness that was neither large nor small, but sizeless. Then, for a brief instant, the dark in front of her fell away to reveal a world beyond. Through it, Renner saw a woman in white and red, kneeling over what seemed to be a desk. A brush held in an effeminate hand fell upon a sheet of parchment and a made a stroke; with it, the scene was ripped away, and Renner was once again realized in a fiery glow.

    Another sharp breath, and her chest met with air hotter than she had ever breathed, a great pain shooting down her gullet. Without thinking, she took a second, nearly doubling over as her breast seemed to fold in on itself. The heat was enveloping and crushing, what sweat had accumulated on her drying as if it had never been, all the skin exposed to the desiccated air set upon by it. Renner felt as if she had been cast into blaze.

    ¡°Protection from Elements - Fire.¡±

    As she bent forward at the midsection, a light tap came against her forehead, and from the spot sprouted a membrane that swiftly spread across the entirety of her body, slipping under her clothes and then doubling-back. The heat diminished, instead becoming that of a languid midsummer day. Her chest still sundered, Renner took a third pull, relieved that she had not been scorched. Unable to speak a gratitude, she gave a limpid nod, blinking to restore her vision. As her eyes wet again, the scene before her resolved, feet half-buried in coal-like grains. She drew them up and replanted them, her once clean heels hopelessly fouled. Slowly leveling the gaze, she gasped, seeing Jaldabaoth framed by a world that fit him.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Lo, the netherrealms.

    Renner had never before seen such a variety of reds, oranges, yellows, browns, and blacks. She and her master were standing at the crest of a dene of scorched gravel, the vista capturing at once a great glowing field of what Renner reckoned to be magma, a vast inland spill, and the beach that split them. It was a sight beyond the most exacting renderings in codices, any frieze carved upon Valencia¡¯s walls, or the most skilled bards¡¯ wildest exaggerations. There was no sky, the horizon seeming to bend up and over, turning back on itself to lid the expanse entirely. Under it flew and walked a great many things, demons that matched or exceeded those which Lakyus had spoken of. She stood, tracing the vast dis and forcing herself to understand it as real. A throbbing terror at once came over her, yet, was somehow distant, like a grease fire that had been covered but not yet snuffed. A trodden path ran along the vulcan sands just to her right, and the fiend stepped over to it; after she could compel her own legs to move, she followed him without beckon.

    ¡°Everything we discuss in this territory is not to be spoken of elsewhere.¡±

    ¡®This territory¡¯? An odd phrasing. I¡¯d have fashioned him a ruler of this felish place. If I am to understand such a transcendent being as being one of many who jockeys in the hells, I ought to simply throw myself into the molten stone below and wish for a quick end.

    She tried to speak, but found her mouth too arid to do so, tongue feeling tacky as she peeled it off of her teeth. Precious little saliva flowed in, she doing her best to swirl it, restoring some semblance of her voice.

    ¡°Of course, my Lord.¡±

    Renner paused, throat catching on itself as she desperately tried to issue her next words.

    ¡°May I ask questions, my Lord?¡±

    ¡°I expect you to know when and when not to.¡±

    This is the time, then.

    ¡°Am I to understand that this is not your domain?¡±

    Jaldabaoth stiffened, stopped, and looked back to her.

    ¡°Look at my lips and understand that I am not speaking as you are. Your tongue disgusts me, and while I shall bear it for the purposes of speaking to you tonight, all future conversations between us are to be conducted in my own. Do you understand?¡±

    Not dismissal, but a denial. This is his realm, but the magic through which he speaks to me must have some flaw - a lossiness that strips words of their subtleties. A problem even for mundane translation. Perhaps there is no easy equivalent for ¡°territory¡± in my tongue for it to spit.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    At this, he readjusted his glasses, turned away, and went on.

    ¡°Your education is inadequate in the least, unacceptably so in the context of your servitude. You are to fix that. Language, mathematics, economics, political theory, thaumaturgy, literature, philosophy, natural sciences, and music shall be done in a formalized and rigorous manner of self instruction. You are expected to design and complete your own curriculum from texts and resources we provide. Reports on your progress in these subjects are expected on a biweekly basis.¡±

    Expenditures for my development? I am not to be killed? An unexpected affordance of time, perhaps a few years, or a lifetime. My paranoia that this was a grand conspiracy is correct. Even these names are by themselves revealing. ¡®Political theory¡¯? A whole field of study for politics? How odd. I haven¡¯t a clue what ¡®natural sciences¡¯ may be. Pray tell, what is the purpose of instruction in music? It seems my new lords are not only conspiratorial beings of such terrible make that they exceed all the worst nightmares of mankind, but are cultured as well. Still, there is an absence on that list. No mention of history. With what delicate considerations they seem to have made for this conquest, it is not simply disdain for their lessers; rather, this confirms them as external things, detached from the moorings of our world.

    Renner, stepping after him, looked to her hellish plains to her right. It was a wide valley, running on nearly a mile or two before it faded into the gloom. Along it went great billows of uric smoke, broken by up-struck crag and sent swirling into little eddies down the way, glowing streaks twined by rivulets through the haze. Following the brooks of magma upstream, she watched as they split away from each other, unmingling in the shroud, before they suddenly came clear into view past the great field of vents that so poured out the cloud. Navigated by a shambling horde of piglike things prodded along by a hulking fly twice their size, these rills unwound into thinner coulees, each sallying off up the separate knolls that ensconced the valley, slipping from view into the rolling and barren dells of each. Catching one from the right angle as she walked, Renner saw a gentle fonting of the stuff, glowing scoria spraying the sides in stuttered disgorges from a wound in the earth. Tracing the hill up past its font, she watched it curl up into the sky, tor reaching so high that it met with the stone roof above.

    ¡°In addition, you are to receive a degree of training in tradecraft. Counter-divination, scrying defense, encounter and acquisition avoidance, information security, truth evasion, interrogation resistance, charm and domination mitigation, polyphonics, and basic escape technique.¡±

    A bevy of subjects; surprisingly similar to what I have taught myself. I¡¯d have figured their concerns would be well and above mine. Still, this investment is discombobulating. Was I not their enemy but two evenings prior? What would compel them to then snatch me up, furnish me with such training, and then unleash me to their ends? The minute turnaround too. Why, it seems as if my treason was expected.

    Renner stayed silent, unsure what a correct interpretation of his words would be. At the very least, she was of value, an asset worth acquisition and enrichment. That she was to be trained in the work of underhands was something unexpected, and though she was content to let the demon carry on, she felt a growing sense of her task and purpose.

    ¡°The methods you have learned and employed so far are ineffectual, are vulnerable to certain intrusions not unknown to this region, and rely on the graces of specific, unreliable individuals.¡±

    Mm, he¡¯s referencing the Gambling Division ledger. I suppose that thing which lurks in shadow must have come upon it - a ¡®shadow demon,¡¯ perhaps? By that token, it¡¯s probably made a thorough sweep of the palace itself. Saves me the trouble of handing them a layout¡­ Still, that Evileye is a liability I need no longer accept, that her magics are no longer a critical facet of my survival; it¡¯s almost a sweet thing.

    Renner hung for a moment, then doubled-back on herself.

    No, it is a sweet thing. She is known to them, and deductible from my speech to the adventurer group, my loathing of her. Jaldabaoth is proffering that deliberately; almost a perk of sorts. Interesting.

    ¡°This necessitates the use and operation of specific magical items, including equipment and consumables. You will be taught these methods at the necessary junctures. Further, you are to be taught identification techniques for specific species and entities of concern, beings which you are to make an immediate report of upon discovery.¡±

    Enemies purely ruinous to them, or merely threatening? I suspect the latter. This is not an organization committed only to the barest expense, the most basic caution. They are grand, they are exacting. Even weak things will see a thorough stamping out for prudence''s sake.

    Jaldabaoth and Renner went up and over another dune, then stepped out from sand onto the stone it had been hewn from, the beach being the crumbling remnants of a series of basalt bluffs that ran along the umbral sea. She had been taking furtive glances at expanse for since she had arrived, each time wincing and looking away from the luminance. Now, she turned and bore it in full, blinking her eyes to adjust them. It was vast, stretching out an unreckonable distance before coming flush against a vault of distant stone. It roiled and churned, rock the color of the sun bubbling up through cooler magmas. The medium, already tumultuous, was broken by the occasional explosion, great liquid columns sent up and down in deadly showers of molten stone. Great bergs of slag drifted across like surface scum, a chance few inhabited by lanky, spined things that seemed to tend to the lake, scraping up frozen shards and piling it upon what floated.

    ¡°Your existing intelligence network is to be integrated into ours; assets you have obtained will remain under your control, however, you will coordinate them to assist in our objectives.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°What active interventions you will use your existing assets to conduct will primarily be counterintelligence operations; however, those will not be the only assets under your control.¡±

    Jaldabaoth suddenly stepped off to the left, leaving what was only now starting to become a proper highway. Renner struggled to scurry after him, heels unfit for such use.

    ¡°You are to be placed in command of a number of intelligence-gathering units. These will include field operatives, remote observation specialists, and support personnel. You will be tasked with coordinating this apparatus, using it for the collection of data, the processing of that data into workable information, the analysis of that information for the production of actionable intelligence, and the use of that intelligence to inform short term objectives, long term strategy, and future data collection. Do you understand?¡±

    I do, my Lord. I truly do. It¡¯s almost oversimple, isn¡¯t it? I, in the course of two months, divined your existence through gossip, double-talk, and bulletins. Further, I am unable to pry myself from your wills; no threat I can levy against you, no hazard I may present to your objectives. To forget my opposition and integrate me, why, it¡¯s the most sensible thing to do.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    Jaldabaoth approached the edge of the outcrop, then turned again down an only now visible flight of stairs that had been carved into its flank. Upon realizing where she would have to follow, Renner slowed, and after a moment''s thought on the narrow descent and seaward gusts of wind, doffed her shoes, wincing as she shifted her weight onto the pointed rock below. Slowly, and with careful steps, she followed after, holding her heels in her left and bracing her right hand against the rockface. The fiend, who had been looking at her from a landing some ways down, continued.

    ¡°You are to generate intelligence on the state of your Kingdom, including an analysis of its politics, the status of each of its houses, the relationships between them, an accounting of its various forces both regular and irregular, the state of its economy, a balance sheet for the expenditures of the crown and various houses major, a detailed demographic survey, as well as assisting in the creation of a detailed survey of its geography, including surface topography, as well as its meteorology, ecology, and geology.¡±

    Renner stepped down onto the landing, less than a pace above the magmaline, fresh splatter having pooled at its base; as she thought to navigate it, she realized much of the wall had been wet as well. Turning with a start, she realized her current handhold had been drenched in the stuff, some of which had dripped onto her. Though it was liquid, it had an odd weight to it, still as heavy as it had been as rock. Before she knew it, a bead of the stuff rolled down her palm and broke away to strike the floor below, the molten stone seeming no warmer than anything else.

    ¡°At the same time, you are to continue your research into your nation¡¯s history, and that of surrounding nations.¡±

    As expected, they are outsiders. Beings from someplace distant; or, as this place would suggest, a separate world altogether.

    Jaldabaoth rounded a corner, the ledge thinning even further as it bowed into a littoral cave. Renner followed in the gentle bob of his tail, resisting the urge to shimmy. The space was tight, the ledge no more than half a pace wide, and the other side no more than a pace after that.

    ¡°Further, you will be asked to perform certain direct interventions using the assets you have been provided. This may include interception, espionage, sabotage, assassination, or more personal manipulations.¡±

    Jaldabaoth went in a bit further before slipping around another corner, Renner following after to enter a small chamber which held a secret inlet. A wizened looking demon - by Renner¡¯s estimation, an imp or a gazer - sat on a rock within, tending to the pool with a long rod at least double its length. Mabes of glass hung along the ceiling, the vitreous drippings catching the light of the pond in a way that dazzled her. The light danced across Jaldabaoth¡¯s face as he stepped out behind the demon, then turned to her.

    ¡°Tell me, what do you know of your duties?¡±

    ¡°My kingdom is to be delivered to you. Its population, resources, and markets fit for use. I am to facilitate these changes through the tools you have provided me; to use them for the purposes of manipulating the body politic, leading the population to desirable beliefs and antagonisms, and the steady preparation for a secret or open transfer of leadership.¡±

    Jaldabaoth gazed at her in silence, glasses flickering in the light. After nearly a minute of this, he turned, and readjusted them.

    ¡°I see there are still some misconceptions at play.¡±

    He prodded the hunched demon on its shoulder. The creature then plunged the rod deep into the magma, rooting around in it for some time and seeming to use it to pry something beneath the surface. Eventually, it withdrew the rod hand over hand, revealing a hooked end which had snagged some cage about the size of her fist. Unhooking it, the demon set down its implement and manipulated its catch, eventually knocking the thing open and shaking out the contents onto its hand. It then held out its hand to her, she breaking from her place to see what it was offering. Within its gnarled grip were two brass rings, which she gently took from its hand. Raising her head to look back to Jaldabaoth, she saw another portal had opened beyond him.

    ¡°Come. Let me show you what I make of your kind.¡±

 Movement IV: The Subject of Names (2)

    Another flash of the woman, this time gently sweeping a promenade. Renner stepped through.

    I cannot help but wonder how these ¡®doorways¡¯ work. ¡®Thresholds¡¯? It seems an entirely separate mechanism from Evileye¡¯s practice. Her manner was to rip through with a circle, but he seems to have made no exertion whatsoever. Even teleportation is a petty feat. Fantastical.

    Alighting, she found herself in the center of a bare, hunched room, one that gave her the nauseating sense of a dungeon. Grim brick walls made of a sickly, pallid stone, illuminated by a single hissing magelight above. There were metal doors on all sides, dried tears of rust streaking from the points that had been bolted. Jaldabaoth was there, his tail gently swaying in a way Renner found enthralling. The heat that had hung over her had vanished, wherever she had been taken apparently a much cooler part of the netherrealms. A bang. Renner started, jerking her gaze forward to see what had just entered.

    ¡°My Lord! Oh, how wonderful it is to see you!¡±

    A white and red thing waddled in through the front; it was round, with a figure more corpulent than she had ever seen. Dressed as a physician, it was thrown over in thick linens: a coat, a hood, a bulging apron - full of rusted or bloodied tools; all having been splattered with vital reds and browns. Its head was even more distended than the rest of its form, and she spent a few instants registering its long beak as a mask instead of a face. Spying its livid feet exposed between loose bandages, she supposed this was for the best.

    ¡°My gizzard has been quivering in anticipation since you messaged ahead! I beg of thee, what task have you called me for tonight?¡±

    How oddly cheery this thing is. It adds to the effect, no?

    ¡°Pulcinella, I need you to assemble a vessel.¡±

    ¡°A vessel? Of course, my Lord! For whom?¡±

    ¡°Her.¡±

    A ¡®vessel¡¯ for me? What could they be speaking of? Considering this ¡®Pulcinella¡¯s¡¯ getup, I¡¯d hazard this no work of pottery; rather, that of a surgeon - or a butcher.

    ¡°Oh! Quite right. Pray tell, what accoutrement would you desire? I recently harvested a most supple set of stomachs from a-¡±

    ¡°I expect fidelity.¡±

    ¡°A render true to form? Capital, my Lord! Absolutely capital!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be taking a tour, so collect what you need now.¡±

    Collect?

    Pulcinella nodded lightly, paused, and then did so again. The thing seemed to search itself, and faster than Renner could track, had produced something she hadn¡¯t accounted for on its person. It held the box-like object between both hands, before raising it and peering through it like a spyglass.

    ¡°Set, go!¡±

    A flash brighter than the sun, Renner blinking a few times to clear the wound in her vision. A whirring noise came, she missing its source as she fought to keep her balance. The thing broke forward, lumbering toward her while drawing a long and bloodied pair of sheers from its smock. She stumbled back, but its strides were quick, outpacing her and raising its implement as it did. A fetid hand reached round to snatch her from the back of the head.

    ¡°Pulcinella, do not take more than necessary.¡±

    ¡°Hm? Yes, yes! Quite right!¡±

    The blades snapped shut, severing a lock of her hair which it caught in its other hand. Then, as quickly as it approached, it spun away, throwing open the opposite door.

    ¡°Oh, Lord Ulbert, bless this joyous work!¡±

    It slammed shut with a hollow, wavering bang, the monster¡¯s singsong fading away on the other side. Renner felt her chest unwind, quelching her imaginings of a violent remake by the rotund abomination, taking the opportunity to wipe the cold sweat that had appeared on her brow. Jaldabaoth gestured mirthlessly at the door to the left.

    ¡°Your dress is inadequate. Strip, don the outfit inside, and exit out the other door.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, my Lord.¡±

    Renner made her way to the left door, the floor stinging anew with every step. Gently working the handle, she slipped through into the next room, and upon closing the door, nearly collapsed.

    Chardelon, stay yourself. Jaldabaoth has eyes folded up in the air, you have no quarter to swoon now. What in the name of the empty divine was that thing? Another demon? Of what class? What was that light? Why hair? Too many questions. I have no sense for witchcraft, nor the foul magics of demons. Another point. This ¡°Lord Ulbert.¡± I¡¯d name it a fel God, but considering the material existence of these creatures, perhaps it is yet another individual of power. No matter. Clearly, I have remained useful to Jaldabaoth. Whatever this ¡®vessel¡¯ is, it is yet another expenditure; development for me. Stay yourself, and carry on.

    Renner rose herself from her brace, observing the room beyond. It was similar to the previous - the same thick, interlocked brickwork so polished it shined - though not bare; instead, it had many hooks sunk along one wall, slightly graded floors that lead to a drain, and a single bench as furnishing, upon which was folded an indistinguishable black mass. Mindful of the cold, she rushed over and began doffing her clothing, shivering under the light of more buzzing bars. Setting the rings down on the bench, her dress fell away quickly into a crumpled mass, and despite her better judgment, she shuffled onto it as a way to shield her feet from the bare floor below. Leaning over gingerly, she undid the stack of garments, trying to make sense of them. It was a combination of several pieces: linen trousers and tunic, both dyed; thick leather overcoat that looked fiendishly heavy; a cowl, also leather; two gloves and a belt; a pair of boots and socks; a stiff flat-brim hat; and, most confusingly, a leather mask with darkened glass eyes in the shape of a bird¡¯s beak, much the same as Pulcinella''s, though without its whiskers. Renner looked at the set queer-eyed, puzzled on how she was to wear it. Eventually, she decided to start with the tunic, slipping it up and over her head. It was overlarge, and as Renner was about to quietly bemoan unfitted garb, it suddenly began to tighten on her form, shrinking down to bind against her.

    That means it¡¯s¡­ enchanted, yes? I suppose this whole set makes a little more sense that way. Not that it¡¯s a reasonable outfit; rather, that magic things are strange as a rule anyway.

    Satisfied, she grabbed the trousers next, and after a moment spent making sure they were the right way down, plunged either leg down into them. After a moment, it too shrunk, Renner mildly surprised at how boyish the pair made her figure. The socks went after, blessed protection from the chill, followed by the boots done slip-fashion. Throwing over the overcoat, she buttoned its length, and after a moment¡¯s debate, fit the cowl over herself, yet did not pull it over. Grabbing the mask, she observed its innards for a moment, before bringing it up and strapping it to her face, the faint smell of flowers drifting in as she finished her tie. Fighting her hair back behind her head, she slowly drew the hood over, and then capped herself snuggly with the hat. Her gloves went next, and as she slipped the last over her right hand, she realized she was completely obscured, none of her flesh exposed to the world beyond.

    Similar to the one worn by the fat demon, but more protective. I¡¯m to see gore, aren¡¯t I?

    Shifting a little under the weight, she winced at the creaking leather, before gathering up her dress and setting it somewhat askew on the bench. Unsatisfied, but unwilling to right it further, she snatched up the rings, pocketed them, and made for the exit. Working it, she stepped out into a long, grime soaked corridor, doors spaced every twenty paces lining the wall to her right, finding her master waiting for her. He began to walk, Renner in tow.

    ¡°Tell me, what do you think of mankind?¡±

    Renner lurched. The question was much more open than any he had asked previously.

    Estimation of capability? The inertial manner of social behavior? Insult? Praise? Or perhaps my personal distaste? Something more utilitarian? That seems best. What are humans to me? Why¡­

    ¡°They are implements, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Partially correct answers are unacceptable. Do not make me issue this warning again. What uses do humans have?"

    An even more absurd question! How am I even supposed to answer that?! This is beyond seeming. He is a fiend; he plausibly possesses a perspective far and above my own on this matter, in the yonder distance. I may guess at it, but I then risk running afoul of mockery. I do not wish to give a non-answer, either. Ah, I¡¯ve been silent for too long. Admit failure and hope the devil merciful.

    "Too many for me to name, my Lord."

    "That answer is to be expected. You are inundated with humans, part and parcel with them. For you, an elaborate, multifaceted understanding of men was necessary for your very existence. The subtleties of expression, the ways in which they flicked their tongues, the method by which their minds worked, their analytical capability, the sorts of emotions they were capable of embracing and those they were capable of suppressing, the way they registered others in their thoughts, the sorts of realities they assembled in their minds, how information propagates amongst them.¡±

    He has an inkling, doesn¡¯t he?

    Renner¡¯s eyes bore through the back of his head, caged lights illuminating the pair in crimson glows as they passed.

    Yes, I showed myself to Zanac and to Raeven, and yes, he surely saw that, and all the many discussions we had that day and night, but there is more to his words here. More to his understanding of me.

    ¡°Then, too, the particularities of your own culture, your own politics. Questions on if you are to finish your plate, the etiquette of breaking etiquette, scandal and gossip, what colors match and when, the allure of music and of song, the ways in which you may refer to others, what causes would be fruitless in their advocacy, the bartering and jockeying in the making of war.¡±

    Ah, he understands the anger of my younger self. My rage. The useless fetters that bind my people and render them powerless.

    ¡°Further, beyond that immediately available to you was only more men and women of your kind; you submerged not merely within the morass of a human nation, but of a world of them. Your Kingdom¡¯s prime rival, both that which work openly against you, and that which moves in secret, are both of the same sort: composed almost entirely of your kind, beings that - even if they did not speak the same language - you could reckon in the same manner you reckon those near you. It is an understandable flaw, but a flaw nevertheless.¡±

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Jaldabaoth slowed, and came to a door. He reached into nothingness, retrieving from the air the same lapis and gold mask as had been described to her.

    ¡°You lack, in a word, perspective.¡±

    Donning it, he opened the door, and bid Renner through into a room walled with empty metal cages. She cast her gaze side to side, inspecting the gaols. They were squat, rusted things, stacked four high; almost all were dirtied with foul reds and browns - she realized only now that her outfit was likely shielding her from the stench. A metal beam sprouted somewhere overhead, hooks and rings attached to gantry carriages, one of which held a hanging cage. A single imp-like thing was in the room, prodding one of the cages with a long stick. Renner jerked when she realized it was occupied, spotting the pale, soiled flesh of what she spent a moment piecing together as a woman. She was balled, exhaustedly fighting off the imp¡¯s prods with a hand covered in open sores, shielding her face with the other. Jaldabaoth lashed his tail against the ground, the imp suddenly jerking to attention as it turned to him. He flitted a finger, the demon rushing away from its play to open the door on the opposite end. It did, bidding the pair through with a deep bow.

    Renner stepped out onto a banistered catwalk, her footsteps changing from dull thuds into a clanging. Dropping her gaze, she searched for the bottom through the holes in the grate, stiffening as she realized she was nearly seven stories off the ground of a large pit. Backing up slightly, she let the imp run ahead. The creature scurried along the thin walkway, past Jaldabaoth, until it reached what appeared to be a free-hanging platform supported by cables that lead up to mechanisms embedded in the ceiling above. Fighting her sense of vertigo, she tentatively followed after, stepping out from the fixed scaffold to the detached element, its gentle sway threatening to upend her last meal. Satisfied she was aboard, the creature threw a lever, the platform steadily descending.

    ¡°As you can see-¡±

    His tone of voice has changed. This is his performance.

    ¡°-we have made fine lodgings for our guests.¡±

    Jaldabaoth, now in a much more jovial spirit, made a grand wave of his hand, proudly presenting the furnishings in the pit. It was square, four structures in each corner, that stretched to just under the height of the catwalk, each of which had five levels and a ground. Stairways snaked up the sides of each, leading to thin landings attached to doorless entrances.

    ¡°With four tenements in a chamber, six floors per tenement, and four rooms fit for a family on each, we generously allow up to sixteen-score of their fellow men and women to live in a shared community.¡±

    How many doors did we pass again? I don¡¯t think it was more than six, and the corridor seemed to have gone on another four. Four-thousand in total? That number is low, less than half of their total take. There must be a great many more humans elsewhere; perhaps more of these, but plausibly something less hospitable. Those tight cages above, backfill? It would make sense.

    Hollow, beady eyed faces stared out at her from barred windows, dozens on each floor, none speaking.

    ¡°Of course, we provide the basics. Sanitation, a well from which they may draw, lights which brighten and dim on the twelfth hour, and a recurrent opportunity to obtain plentiful, filling, and nutritious food.¡±

    ¡®Recurrent opportunity¡¯? What a grand piece of language. There is a stinging cruelty in those words, a combination act, threat, and biting mockery. I almost have the urge to laugh; though, I suppose I ought to delay it until at least I know what he¡¯s referencing.

    The platform reached the bottom, jerking to a halt. The imp wrenched the lever back, and her master stepped off onto the stone floor beneath. The bottom was bare, though plenty lively; there were a few stragglers huddled on the floor, several women watching over a flock of children, and a band of men clustered by the far wall. All were silent, and almost all were still - the only exception being a pair of men feverishly working the aforementioned well. One raised his head, exhaustedly marked the pair, before returning to his crankshaft. Renner suddenly realized her outfit had the effect of making her appear distinctly inhuman, and that, to the people beyond her, she seemed to be just another fiend.

    ¡°As you can see, we provide a commons to allow an intermingling between our many guests. Social interaction is something to be encouraged.¡±

    Somewhat surprising, though I still feel unsure as to his objectives, I¡¯d have figured he was to use his take for slave-labor, or for some fiendish purpose beyond my knowing, but this? Why go through the bother of taking them if they¡¯re only to lounge and rot in the bottom of some pit? I¡¯m missing something, I wonder what?

    Jaldabaoth strode forward, approaching the group of men on the opposite side. Many cast there gazes away, the mass shuffling apart to reveal two doors set side-by-side in the wall. Both had more of the gantry rail protruding out from them. The left was bare, but the right had several carriages, each bearing a large, spring loaded pincer.

    ¡°Daily, at noon, we offer food, measured out to be the exact amount necessary to provide for the needs of all in the chamber for one day. In return, we modestly ask for ten of our guests to be provided to us, and for both our and their convenience, that they be set on this rail for ease of transport.¡±

    The last of the men cleared away, revealing a single individual hanging upside-down on the rack. The man - or perhaps a boy - had been hooked through his ankles, clothes drenched in what had flowed from it. His tunic sunk limpidly to his shoulders, torso exposed. He had been thoroughly contused, bruises and other marks on his stomach and chest, ribcage slightly misshapen. His body, despite the abuse, had an allure, and Renner couldn¡¯t help but imagine Climb in the same position, lightly blushing under her mask at the thought.

    ¡°Of course, mankind needs more than stomachs filled and thirsts quenched, so we have made changes further in consideration of their needs; specifically, the human desire for choice. We have happily accommodated this, and in most gracious fashion, allow them to select amongst themselves who they shall send in return, something which we enforce no restrictions on, be it in selection, or collection. No matter who is placed on the rack, once it is complete, we joyfully provide food in exchange.¡±

    Ah, I understand; this is a typical ultimatum. Cram in families and a few spare, restrict a need while providing an objectionable way to meet it, provide the cover of night in which to do so, and make the whole thing a daily affair. Extreme circumstances to force extreme behavior. It¡¯s a bit trite, isn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Likewise, distribution is in the same fashion. We provide ultimate freedom in this respect. Our guests are free to take from that which we provide whatever they desire.¡±

    It is trite. Why bother with this at all? The particulars of this - in his words - ¡®chamber¡¯ are unique in the details, but the capacity for such base, violent acts has always been a latent aspect of mankind. Why else do we fear a siege of E-Rantel? Would not family turn on family, food a thing to be taken and devoured at all costs? Had I not known better, I¡¯d have marked this cruelty for cruelty¡¯s sake. No, there¡¯s more here.

    The pair approached the body, Renner tracing the little details of the boy¡¯s form up close. There was a certain fascination the dead gave her, the same experience she had felt upon seeing Teloran¡¯s corpse. The way painful positions were held without care, in this case, the awkward bent of his lower body from the mismatched way he had been hooked from his ankles. Renner was lost in his spell, her reverie only broken when Jaldabaoth took hold of the body by the arm and began to pull it forward. Pausing, he turned to the whole chamber, raising his voice as he did.

    ¡°To my many honored guests, I do pray that you will let me make the most humble of impositions upon you. If you would have it, I will be taking this individual¡­ a little early. Do not worry, he will still count to your total.¡±

    No responses came, the place almost silent were it not for the continued labor of the well workers.

    He¡¯s certainly instilled an acceptance in them, or perhaps compliance is a better word. Is that what this is? A test in doggedness? Obedience without loyalty? Surely it plays a part, but perhaps there is more. He mentioned my grand understanding of my kin. Perhaps this is that for him, a way to wrench all the subtleties from humanity they know not how to yield.

    ¡°Ah, speaking of which.¡±

    Jaldabaoth, satisfied, turned to the right.

    ¡°The door.¡±

    His voice was at once layered a myriad more voices, as if a dozen had spoken at once. A man in the pack suddenly went stiff, then marched over and opened it. Renner felt a mild shock at its having been unlocked, then realized that there was no reason for it not to be - only fools would subject themselves to the maw. It opened, Renner finding the gantry continued down a bare corridor wide enough for walking.

    Compulsion magics? Just how many supreme works have these beings wrought? Even more surprising they have brought none of this to bear on me.

    ¡°I must say, I am quite proud of this room. They were the first to embrace our system. With luck, they will do so again tomorrow.¡±

    Jaldabaoth lightly pushed the boy forward, both he and Renner slipping in, door shutting behind them. Jaldabaoth continued to prod the body, the two eventually coming to a junction where the rail above merged with several others. At that point, the carriage seemed to be caught by some mechanism in the line, jerking forward from Jaldabaoth¡¯s palm and joining the others flowing along it. That there were others on the gantry at all seemed to challenge Renner¡¯s initial math, and she took this as confirmation that only four-thousand had been set aside for the chambers, the rest sent directly to their killing. The regular, thin slits in each neck seemed to be evidence of this, blood dripping out into a long, grated channel that ran underneath the main gantry rail for the collection of fluids.

    ¡°The human body yields a number of useful materials.¡±

    Renner turned her attention away from a flume in the channel - frothing with vital foam - to see that Jaldabaoth had doffed his mask.

    ¡°In terms of raw commodities, the average individual contains roughly thirteen tenths of one of your standard weights of blood; the total weight of bone is on average around twenty-four tenths of a standard; fats, thirty-two tenths.¡±

    Rounding a corner along with the tracks, Renner watched as they stepped out into a much larger space, in this case, a full-scale abattoir. Something on the order of a hundred demons occupied the space, the main line splitting into four snaked pathways, bodies being split each way evenly by whatever mechanism propelled the carriages. Renner and Jaldabaoth followed along the leftmost track, she marveling at the sight of a gently swaying curtain of corpses.

    If my memory does not fail me, during the Vampiric Crisis, I suspected some fate like this for mankind. It was a wild madness at the time, but now it seems I was wholly correct. Why, in point of fact, my dear Chardelon, humanity is indeed nothing but chattel.

    ¡°In addition to nutritional value - something shared with the meat and organ tissue - these materials have some utility in the domain of agriculture - as fertilizer, or as slow burning fuel.¡±

    The first of the lineworkers was a demon not much larger than her, using a large pair of shears to swiftly sever clothing along the torso, sleeves, and legs, before grabbing and yanking down quite forcefully to disrobe individuals. Renner absently watched the process done on a man roughly in his thirties, and before she could think to react, saw him stripped bare before her.

    Eh? Between his legs¡­ is that what men have? It looks so¡­ so, different from my expectations.

    Renner¡¯s mind was set aflame, and she resisted the urge to approach the body and inspect its sex more fully. By the same token, her bold thoughts were at once met with shameful ones, leaving her cheeks suddenly a little warm. She quickly realized just how wrong many of her imaginings about Climb were, this bringing about its own feelings of embarrassment to top of the rest. The sight was scandalous, and she flitted her gaze away, doing her best to set herself back on Jaldabaoth¡¯s words.

    ¡°Bone is of special note, being critical in the necromantic arts, serving as a physical catalyst for the creation of many undead beings. However, the most valuable component of the human body is its skin.¡±

    The now naked bodies continued on to a large, rectangular oven, a gyre of flame only barely contained within. At the speed of the line¡¯s movement, they only spent ten to twelve seconds inside, exiting slightly bronzed and without hair.

    ¡°The average individual possesses almost one standard weight of skin, something which amounts to thirty-eight square handspans of area.¡±

    A team of demons set upon what left the kiln, dragging long gashes through flesh with stout and serrated blades. Different patterns were performed on different bodies, most of the men having their chests serrated down the inner sides of the breast, while most women were cut straight down the middle.

    ¡°From this area, twenty-two patches sizable enough for our purposes can be easily cut.¡±

    Skin now flapped, the next set of fiendish laborers served to sever it from what was bound too underneath. Reaching between the cuts, they plunged in knives more akin to those used for paring, ripping the outer layers from the flesh below. When that work was done, their long, thin hands reached in and ripped away large patches, dropping what they harvested into what Renner could only reckon as being a mechanical channel. Jaldabaoth reached down into it and grabbed a sample, a bolt of flesh that had been part of a woman¡¯s thigh a moment prior. Folding it in half, he handed it to Renner, she idly squishing it between her fingers as he talked.

    ¡°That patch of skin will be tanned and processed into parchment, where it will then be used in the crafting of low-tier spell scrolls. That patch, and others like it, will thus be transformed into a persistent and non-volatile store of mana, something that will allow casters in our service to transform idle reserves into magic to be used at a later date, reducing pool minimums and avoiding regeneration wastage. This is a material from your world that can be reliably and sustainably harvested, and represents a major advancement in our ability to create useful, practicable substitutions for previously limited consumables.¡±

    Renner clicked her tongue, the error in her previous answer revealed.

    Humans are not implements; rather, a resource.

 Movement IV: The Subject of Names (3)

    Renner had never before imagined the body as being so complex. She and Jaldabaoth had continued their look through of the slaughterhouse, he explaining all the various steps in stripping the human form of its components.

    It seems as if every giblet is some new bodily contraption for the processing or expelling of a  bile. The many pieces as well, mechanisms of a sort, like linkages and pulleys of a bridge or golem. What wondrous little machines we are, and in that way, at once lesser and greater than the stories we tell of themselves. We, or they?

    Of these parts, the most interesting was the brain. Jaldabaoth had named it simply ¡°the seat of cognition,¡± and while he attested to foreign organisms in the intestines also having an effect on perception, it was the fatty lump inside the skull that was the center of a being.

    It makes a certain sort of sense, doesn¡¯t it? Divorced from concepts as the ¡°soul¡± - which, by all accounts, does exist - that the mind would have a physical expression in the world, that it would be hewn thinly on the surface of bulbous tissue, it simply makes sense. Is that not an explanation for me? No grand statements of me having been the offspring of fiends, no latent foulness in the blood, but merely womanflesh given over to something other behind the eyes. Rotten luck, then?

    Renner stuffed down a laugh, following her new master out from the main hall to a side room that seemed to be dedicated to the preparation of meat. Here, several crow-like demons were working, dragging out large slabs of flesh already severed from bone and dicing them into smaller portions, large cleavers struck down through portions again and again. Another of the mosquito demons hung in the space, resting on an oversized perch as its bulbous head swung back and forth. It nodded and flitted its wings as the pair passed underneath, lowering itself the best it could.

    I suppose ¡®we¡¯ works for now, then. ¡®We¡¯ are fiendishly complex¡­ ¡°systems¡± as it were, and yet are merely that, weaker and inferior to those other beings gifted with stronger and more robust design, those that weave heapfuls of magic into themselves, or those things that ditch such petty physical forms altogether.

    Approaching a door at its end, Jaldabaoth gestured, one of the corvids bowing, before rushing over to open it for them. The pair strode straight through, Renner giving the space behind one last look.

    Perhaps this is yet another pretense of royalty. I''m sure plenty a farmer''s daughter has gutted an animal and rooted around in it, and I¡¯m sure a few of those have come to such revelations themselves. Such uncomfortable things are to be forgotten in church. Pray tell, is that its purpose? To convince mankind that it is something other than the flesh around it? Without such a myth, would not they all fold in on themselves in mad despair, lamenting their brittle bones and thin blood as inferior? Mankind is weak. Mankind is to be ripped to pieces. I will have a part in that. Wonderful.

    The door shut, and the clamor went with it, the many sounds of the production floor muffled and distant. Renner turned around, finding she and Jaldabaoth in a dim corridor, featureless were it not for the light and the channel that ran underfoot. It had swollen considerably through the path of the abattoir, rushing with blood as fast as would a stream. Jaldabaoth went on in silence, seeming to have said all he wished too at the moment, Renner following after. The corridor was long, more channels of blood merging from underneath the walls at regular intervals, before the grating grew to nearly the full width. She kept to the side, the ducts eventually emerging into a squat chamber wider than any Renner had ever been in. Ascending a set of metal stairs onto a catwalk, she saw its area had been given over to vast, churning pools of blood, at least a dozen that steadily bled over into one another. Eye-stalks and other appendages came up from the meres, worm-like things swimming in the first darker pools, and slimes in the later, brighter ones. Passing through to the end, Renner marveled at the outflow of clear water, which ran off too far into the dark for her to see. Along the side of this channel was another door, one which Jaldabaoth opened and bid her in.

    ¡°My lord! How wonderful it is to see you!¡±

    Pulcinella again, this time in a room so cluttered and stocked full of objects that Renner struggled to find the walls. Shelves piled high with papers and specimens suspended in brine were obscured behind stacks of cages, all sorts of chittering creatures in each. Several fires were going, one yellow, one blue, one pink, each supporting their own bubbling cauldrons, and many smaller flames beneath pieces of what Renner vaguely recognized as alchemical glasswork containing even more diverse colors. Small, horned demons with cloven hooves pranced in the space, carrying along all manner of implements or tending to the miscellanea. The centerpiece of what Renner hesitated to name a laboratory was a metal table, upon which lay an indistinguishable mass of gore.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    ¡°Almost, my Lord! I rushed back and threw on the brew as fast as possible, before getting together the base!¡±

    Pulcinella straightened and proudly threw back his hand, gesturing to the bloodied lump on the table. Renner gazed at it, unable to resolve the pile into anything recognizable.

    The¡­ ¡®vessel,¡¯ then?

    ¡°I took only the freshest parts from the organ bank. Oh, that there are those so gracious they would be willing to bear the loss of their life to aid another in this world! My heart surges!¡±

    This creature is mad, isn''t it? Nothing else here seems so inclined to such rage; rather, I would hope so. I do not think I could bear my darling devil-dearest pirouetting with such a mirthful attitude¡­ A thing that believes its dismemberments joyful, how novel!

    ¡°What is missing?¡±

    ¡°Well, the rings; the binding as well. This is her, yes?¡±

    Spare him the indignity of replying.

    Renner gave a cautious nod.

    ¡°Yes, yes, that gait of yours is quite distinct. Wonderful! Come over so we can get working.¡±

    Renner loitered for a moment, then slogged herself over through an overwhelming sense of danger. Pulcinella went about while humming, turning around to prepare several needle ended vials with the drippings of some glasswork. Renner stood by, flicking her eyes to the table while it did so. Judging from the general shapes of things, what was piled on the table was the dismantled remains of a person - on second look, several people - skin having been removed, neatly folded, and set next to the mass. Still wet bone poked out from underneath the pile, and drawn across the table itself was a pattern of chalk marks that extended out to encircle four saucers filled with what Renner recognized as quicksilver, sulfur, salt, and gold.

    This is to be some work of alchemy, then. A vessel for what?  What will it hold? An object to ensure my safety? Allow my communion with my masters?

    ¡°Ah, here we go¡­¡±

    The monster turned around, flicked the ends of the needle vials one by one, and then gently inserted them into the pile, depressing a plunger on the opposite end to inject whatever was inside. By the third of these, the flesh had begun to sag, losing its form as it sunk into itself. Air bubbles rose out of it, little lesions of quick-meat rising to the surface and popping. The bone began to sag as well, and with the fourth injection, the mass lost its constitution entirely. Seeming to flow along an invisible mold, it quickly took a humanoid shape, then, a vaguely feminine one. The skin unraveled itself from its pile and wound around the forming body, knitting itself together around it. Hair a number of colors flowed with it, taking root at the scalp. Then, the patchwork solidified, the mosaic of skin tones making clear to Renner that it was indeed made of over a dozen women.

    ¡°Oh! This will do quite right!-¡±

    This- this is-

    ¡°-Isn¡¯t the similarity stunning?¡±

    Renner suppressed a cry as the fiend suddenly grabbed her, only realizing it had shoved something into her left hand after it broke away. She nauseously looked down, seeing she held a square of glossy parchment, upon which was a rendering of her. It looked wrong, flesh a tone too bright, the shadows of her form a bit too stark, and yet the image was in perfect detail. She was in her same aureolin dress, wide, bright eyes whose irises were oddly red. She tied it with the flash from earlier, realizing that she was looking at the product of some magical contrivance that could capture an instant of the world as it was. In a daze, she looked back to the amalgam, face seeming an even more jarring assembly of multiple people.

    No- no, I don¡¯t see a similarity at all.

    ¡°Ah, no matter! We are almost finished, yes? Of course, the hair.¡±

    Pulcinella withdrew from its apron the lock of hair it had taken from her earlier, opening the mouth of the corpse and stuffing it in. Then, from a pitcher, it slowly poured in a viscous liquid that Renner could only liken to clotted blood, closing the mouth once it over brimmed at the corners.

    ¡°Now, the most important part. You¡¯ve the rings, yes?¡±

    Renner nodded, retrieving them from her breast pocket and offering them to the fiend. He refused, instead marching over to the blue-flame cauldron and pointing to it.

    ¡°In here, my darling.¡±

    She slowly stepped forward, peering over its walls to see a murky, deep green turmoil. Flotsam drifted up to the top of the roiling surface, herbs and giblets alike stewing in its iron walls. In partial disbelief, Renner gently looked to the demon, it cocking its head as response.

    ¡°Go on, put them in.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Its tone had grown firmer, spurring Renner to drop the rings into the liquid below. The boil was so intense she didn¡¯t even hear them plot, sinking immediately out of sight.

    ¡°Your glove, your glove! Remove it, quickly!¡±

    Renner made to obey the sudden new command, ripping the glove off her left hand as fast as she could. Pucinella snatched her wrist, swiftly poking the edge of her finger with a needle. She gave a stout exhale, a drop of blood falling into the cauldron below, its contents suddenly turning black. The fiend let go, Renner slowly drawing back as it poured the rest of the pitcher''s contents into the pot, and then grabbed the still hot iron and threw it onto its side, contents spilling out onto a sieve. It reached into the residue, violently searching until its hand closed around an indistinct lump. Picking through the dripping sludge, it found the object of its desire, handing one ring back to her, while jaunting off to body with the other.

    These processes seem fit to make my heart give. Ruinous magics, true and proper. Perhaps I have no taste for sickening reality.

    Renner idly looked at the ring. It had been stained, leaving a wet puddle of black fluid in her palm. With her other thumb, she rubbed it confirming that it really had lost its brass sheen to become a matte black. Turning it over a few times, she pinched it between her forefinger and thumb and inspected it.

    ¡°Put it on.¡±

    Renner stiffened, the command coming not from Pucinella, but from Jaldabaoth. She turned and bowed by way of apology, then, with a little hesitation, slipped it over her finger. It hung loosely for a moment, then shrunk, slicing right through her flesh and breaking the bone underneath with a sickening pop. She yelped, and then, the pain suddenly went, the wound vanishing before she could track.

    ¡°And just like that, you¡¯re properly bound!¡±

    Renner shook in place, braving herself to run her gloved fingers over the spot. Though it was not visible, she could feel the ring underneath her skin, sliding around on the inside. She swallowed, a sudden sense of permanence setting in.

    It is a hidden thing, then; a bond between me and the dark intruders, one I may never shed lest I set upon myself. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s magnificent.

    ¡°That ring is bound to your blood; as long as it runs through your veins, it will sing to the other, tethering you and allowing for transference.¡±

    Transference of what? Ah, a point further.

    Renner looked to Jaldabaoth, refashioning her glove.

    There is a qualifier in that statement, and I have not the sense he is speaking of death.

    ¡°And when my veins no longer run with Vaiself blood?¡±

    The devil drew back into a thin smile, then adjusted his glasses. Unable to make anything of his response, Renner approached the table, seeing Pulcinella finishing his work on the mosaic. Unlike hers, the wound from its ring was still visible, a purplish band encompassing the left ring finger under the flesh. Other markings were made upon it as well: a thinner, red band on the other finger, and a glyph of black scorch marks on the breastbone where Pucinella had taken a sunstone gem and pressed it in. Wiping its hands of the soot, it excitedly wobbled, false beak jittering with mirth.

    ¡°Mmmmm! We¡¯re ready!¡±

    Pulling from the air a thin stick, he struck it against the table, where it suddenly set itself on fire. Leveling it, he dropped it onto the chalk marks, the whole of the pattern suddenly setting itself ablaze. The saucers rattled, then drained of contents, the chalk-flame growing to nearly a blinding white. The body pulsed with light, then grew uniform; the patchwork blended together, flesh multicolored hair lengthening and turning a golden blond. Then, as the flame sputtered and diminished, Renner saw a perfect, bare replica of herself.

    Mm, perhaps I was too hasty in my previous assessment. Yes, the resemblance is stunning. I¡¯m almost doll-like.

    The flame died entirely, the room growing silent and still. Her clone¡¯s azure eyes flickered open, lazily tracking over to Renner, then Pulcinella, growing wider as it seemed to realize its situation. Her duplicate shot straight up from the table, gargling great spurts of clear fluid thicker than mucous. At the limit of Renner¡¯s perception, Pulcinella drew a hammer from his belt and clobbered her imitation on its forehead, the body limply slamming back onto the table. Another  injection, this time in the space between its eyelid and brow, creature occasionally twitching as more of the fluid disgorged from its mouth. At last, the fiend withdrew, and her double lay docile on the table.

    ¡°Finish with its development, and send it to the Iblis hall when done.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    The scheme clicked for Renner.

    A vessel for me. A husk I may puppet, or perhaps inhabit and take control of just as I do with my body. It will be left here, in this realm, while I navigate the one above in that of my birth. How perfect. How flush. Never an interruption, never a sign of my treason. A chink in the armor, hidden from all. As expected of my masters. Yes, this was the correct choice.

    She looked on at the clone in awe, struck with the foresight and ability of her new masters. Pulcinella and Jaldabaoth looked on as well, the devil eventually breaking his gaze from the body and turning to his fellow.

    ¡°What is the progress on the fungus experiment?¡±

    ¡°Near to sporulation, my lord. No more than sixty-hours, I¡¯d say.¡±

    Jaldabaoth began to walk, slipping past the table deeper into the laboratory

    ¡°With me.¡±

    Renner nodded, then shuffled after him. They passed through a great mess of other oddities: shelves stacked with yet more jars; bodies in various states of decay hanging from a branch of the gantry system; precariously piled notes that threatened to topple at any time. Once they were past the second batch of shelves, Renner realized the space was much more vast than she had initially assumed, that such was the clutter that it was not possible to draw any clear sightline through it. Eventually, after forging through the mess for a full half-minute, they came upon a wall, a single iron door sat within it. Opening it, they spilled out into another long corridor, counting at least twenty doors to a side. Walking down, Jaldabaoth¡¯s tail idly bobbed, eventually coming to a bare door labeled with something Renner guessed was a number. Jaldabaoth opened it, and bid Renner in. It was a small room, more akin to a cell than anything else she was familiar with. In it, sat in a corner, was an odd vegetative mass, lush, yet spotted with all sorts of sicky hues that put Renner in mind of her stomach.

    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡±

    I haven¡¯t a clue. It¡¯s all just a mass of mushrooms and outgrowth to me. It¡¯s not as if it¡¯s¡­

    Renner cocked her head slightly, then realized with a start that she was looking at a person. Whoever it was, they had been completely overtaken in the plants of decay, caps and pleated sheets sprouting every which way. A large, bulbous protrusion grew from the abdomen, what she could mark as skin burst from the stress having itself been shot through with plant growth. The most recognizable of the parts was a leg, having shriveled up and made to fold on itself. Renner took a last look, assembling what she could of the body. There, twitching of the stalks under which the right hand should have been buried.

    ¡°A person, one who is not yet dead, yet has become food for new beings, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°This girl was one of our early take. A hamlet in the deep south lost to your people¡¯s memory, but still in reach of us. We set upon it at night, an exercise in collection. It was¡­ effective. Techniques and practical experience for the employment of summons in abductions. Tell me, do you know her name?¡±

    A low chill rolled over Renner, Jaldabaoth¡¯s voice taking on a soft, deadly quality.

    This is rhetoric. He intends to teach me something. Cooperate.

    ¡°No, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°It could be the most beautiful name known to her people.¡±

    Jaldabaoth stepped forward, lowering himself into a kneel, and slipping his fingers around what Renner pieced together as being the head.

    ¡°It has surely been spoken in love, in affection, reverence, hatred, loathing, and in a thousand other ways. Her mother would coo her with it to sleep at night. Truncations and mispronunciations of her brothers and sisters and family and friends. Perhaps a village boy smitten with her would whisper himself to sleep with it. Maybe an accursed enemy of hers would spit it with all the force she could. It exited the mouths of hundreds, each time inflected a little differently, or attached to some new purpose. But I would not know.¡±

    He paused, taking a moment to separate the head from the wall and cradle it himself.

    ¡°Nor would anyone. This, for there is no one to remember. Her mind has been obliterated, brain steadily consumed by the myconid planted inside. Nothing occurs within. She is, even in this vestigial state, the last of her people alive. The rest have been processed into unrecoverable states, flesh having slipped down the gullets of both her and others of her kind, bones already used for the creation of new warriors. Even were we to have preserved a portion of their bodies, most would be too weak to bear resurrection. She, her tribe, and everyone she could have plausibly interacted with are gone. What records their elders had kept were destroyed. Their oral tradition wiped from the world. Her home, where she lived her whole life up until that night, razed until it was cinder.¡±

    He let go, rising back to his full height.

    ¡°In a few days, the myconid will break through her skull wall, step out, and join its kin. What remains of her is unfit for full processing; her flesh will be spent simply as feed for smaller stock, her skeleton will be taken and reanimated. Anything left after will be masticated and extruded as construction material. Your name is Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself. I pray I needn''t say more.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    Renner again bowed, the pounding of her heart threatening to drown out the world. She stayed there for a moment, only rising when she had the strength to.

    ¡°One last thing. On the subject of names, I am Demiurge, Guardian of the Seventh Floor. Our master is Lord Ainz Ooal Gown, leader of the Supreme Beings. Never forget this.¡±

    So it is him, then.

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    The first to be known, to act perceptibly. Interesting. To act to save Gazef¡¯s life, make himself an enemy of Slain, and in doing so, prevent the collapse of the royal house but days later. A cunning master indeed. I¡¯d hazard it no matter of happenstance that he was the first to interfere. There is more to be known here. Things for the hearing and doing of which I do not see.

    ¡°Are there any outstanding liabilities to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord. There is an individual, Count Alec Resenen Pell Keveleos. He is a member of the Eight Fingers council, and he is aware of my unique constitution. He was to be eliminated on sight during the raids on the fourth, but in the chaos, we lost him. In addition, he and I had a particular shared goal, the silencing of those women rescued from the brothel by my Climb. I hired a mercenary band to ensure their safekeeping, one under the control of the syndicate. For the preservation of predictable politics, they too will need to go.¡±

    ¡°The women will be dealt with immediately, the matter with Eight Fingers settled in the coming days. If any of their men-at-arms attempt your assassination again, they will be dealt with much the same as before.¡±

    I was to be assassinated? This¡­ is not surprising. I wonder how. A poisoning? Must have been, I don¡¯t see how an assault would work. It¡¯s almost a little embarrassing to say as such. I suppose Keveleos really did wish me dead, and I suppose Demiurge had identified me as a useful agent before then, if not as servant, then as puppet. To such a manipulative mind, is there such a difference?

    ¡°You will be updated as necessary by your new adjutant. Are there any other hindrances or threats to your duties?¡±

    ¡°Not in an imminent context, my lord.¡±

    ¡°You speak of your Kingdom¡¯s crises?¡±

    ¡°To an extent, my Lord, but the deeper rot that lies underneath.¡±

    ¡°This will be expunged or exploited in time. You will be returned to Valencia with the expectation that you will have a general outline of your Kingdom¡¯s history within one week. I trust you will budget your days and manage your assets for research appropriately. Your time with us is to be spent learning the true functions of things; this, before you are tasked with more in-depth analyses.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my Lord.¡±

    There is to be no half measure here. I am to throw myself into this, to dedicate every effort to their service, and to his. Power in slavery, yes, but joy in it as well. All actions are to be accepted. Any commands to be carried out. Every thought furnished upon request. I am to be forthright to them. No hiding behind my mask; I am to offer myself as I am, and leave myself fit for their meddling.

    Demiurge finally looked back to her, a queer smile settling on his lips.

    ¡°Oh, and, on the matter of your precious dream, it will have to wait. What is to come will require an accumulation of fighting power, and we cannot yet spare such a loyal bodyguard for duties other than armed service.¡±

    At this, Renner couldn¡¯t help but break into a smile. The devil had told her to wait for her prize, and with the might of her new masters, meant that having her dog as desired was nothing less than a certainty.

 Movement IV: The Subject of Names (4)

    [41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 7]

    Lakyus paused, coming to a stop and closing her eyes. With a slow exhale, she let out all she could. Then, a moment spent quiet, listening to the beat of her heart.

    You need to do this. There is much you need to reflect on, and you should not do it alone.

    Pulling a breath a moment later, she collected herself.

    I need this.

    Opening her eyes, Lakyus lingered no longer, and walked into the church. Every one of the entrance doors had been chained open, the traffic in and out too great to do otherwise. Getting her first glimpse of the interior, she was struck dumb.

    Not even the first of the annual wars inspired so many.

    Though the central church in Re-Estize was built for mass worship, well over a thousand had taken to the space. Many were packed tightly in the pews, but plenty of worshippers spilled out into the aisles, some lining the back wall, others clustered at the sides. The second level was just as laden, some deep part of her darkly wondering if the columns could take the load. Deciding the building was not going to topple, she thought to work her way in, glowering as the crowd seemed to consume any path through. Resorting to elbowing, she began to slowly make her way through the center aisle, slipping past and stepping over many bereaved.

    This¡­ this makes sense. The latest from the city administrators was, at minimum, six-thousand.

    Each of the pulpits was filled, some three or four times over, preachers of the parish reciting line after line of the holy books set upon them. She doubted that all were truly reading, instead parroting those adjacent or reciting their most favored passages from memory. Others didn''t even have podiums from which to preach, individuals of devotion standing up in their pews and reciting what they could to those around them. Great waves of voices passed through the space, some clusters repeating the Promise of Earthrest again and again, others in shared wails or laments. It was a bitter sight, the sort of fervent mass turn to faith that only great loss could drive.

    Six-thousand is a minimum. Only He of the Winding Cavern knows how many more. I¡¯d be surprised if there was anyone in this city who didn''t know a person taken, even multiple.

    Lakyus¡¯s grimace grew deeper, thoughts drifting to the Devil in Red. The crimes of him and his forces grew worse hour by hour, black discoveries occurring across the breadth of the city. Within the range of the blaze, far fewer bodies than expected had been found, this only confirming the worst of her fears when they came upon warehouses in the initial assault.

    In death, there is deliverance - the sacred embrace of He of the Dust and Diamond. Those kin and friends of the dead can seek assurance in that, knowing with certainty that they have passed back into the world. But this? This is¡­ wicked. Why take, and not kill? What use could that fiend possibly have for them? Slaves? Sacrifices for some black purpose? It¡¯s too much to bear.

    Lakyus cringed, and swung her head, trying to rid herself of thoughts to the privations surely being inflicted on her fellow men and women.

    Hold yourself together. Their fate matters, but it is not something you can affect now. Think to practical things, things to fix.

    In addition to the targets identified by Renner, the total number of strikes believed to have been conducted by the demon invaders was sixteen, each location stripped entirely of its people and their possessions. The more Lakyus brooded on the matter, the more it disturbed her. The enemy had planned around the actions of the Blue Roses completely, and even if Gagaran did run into insectoid maid demon, this was likely the fault of a delay, not a miscalculation; that the demons had done so meant that both her decision making and Renner¡¯s were predicted and accounted for, and, were it not for Momon¡¯s timely arrival, that they would have never been forced into a lodgement.

    We were completely outmaneuvered. Gods, this shouldn¡¯t have happened. That Eight Fingers was a wicked foe I knew, but this? Were they truly capable of conspiracy with demons?

    How he had come, she did not know. Had it been the work of someone within Eight Fingers, they had desired escape from the Blue Roses¡¯s persecution at a cost far greater than their comrades; whoever they were, they possessed a great amount of control within the organization, enough to be able to acquire such an item of immense power, and yet somehow had evaded all efforts at detection that the princess had made. When - in their eyes - she made to move against them in Climb¡¯s impromptu raid on the brothel, they had panicked, and unlike their compatriots who brought up their forces or fled, instead decided to seek relief with the dark powers of the world. This foolish act - whether summoning fiends to be used as soldiers or forming a pact with some entity - had obviously brought the attention of a much more powerful demon, and thus, attracted eyes toward the item in their possession.

    How did they not know what they had? Did they perform no examinations? No tests? Or did they, and embrace what they found? Maybe they did, and took it not as a warning sign, but as a boon. Gods, if only that relic had never come to the city.

    In the hours following the vanquish of the demon army, a squad of rangers discovered a false support pillar inside of the Eight Fingers controlled warehouse Gagaran had been assigned to raid, the ladder inside leading to a hidden underground storeroom; besides vast quantities of Laira, in a single crate was found a diminutive, out-of-place statuette. Weathered copper, it was a disturbing depiction of what appeared to be a half-winged three armed bafolk, bearing in each hand orbs red, green, and yellow.

    He was so close to finding it. Had they had perhaps an hour more, or two, one of their imps would have stumbled upon it, and taken it to him. And if that had come to pass¡­

    Handed over to the Magicians Guild along with other suspicious articles, it had gone through a process of identification. The first grader who attempted to do so passed out after casting his spell; fearing it to be warded, a second - an experienced abjurer brave enough to volunteer - attempted to do the same, and akin to the first, fainted on the spot. At this, the Master of Wands and Staves had then taken the matter as his duty, and after layering himself in all manner of protective fetishes and antisomniferous magics, cast the spell and went mad on the spot, shrieking and making ten panicked steps in retreat before he too collapsed. Despite the now days given to the Magicians Guild, they still had not made a sure identification of the item''s effect. The last missive they had sent to the house of lords claimed the statuette to be ¡°immeasurably powerful,¡± but a later conversation Lakyus had with the Mistress of Interdiction and Absumption revealed that all three men had given the same response upon waking.

    Three spells of the tenth tier. It¡¯s unimaginable. Even the servants of the Gods during their time here were only purported to cast the seventh. Momon had his crystal of the eighth, and he turned an entire glade to sand with it. Just how many fiends are locked within?

    Though the spells within could not be identified, of the other congruent ramblings between the awoken wizards was the continual mention of an ¡°unending font of demonkind.¡± Each reported visions of endless hordes sweeping the land, destroying all that was fair and consuming all but the stars in the sky. Whether it was delusion, foreknowledge, or prescience, the guild could not say, but the general tenor of things had turned bleak. Had they not raided that night, the black truth of the matter was that Jaldabaoth¡¯s forces would have likely found the statuette, and with their already immense strength, would have then turned whatever magic was stored within out on the world, bringing about a second calamity on the scale of the Demon Gods.

    Renner must have come to all this yesterday, or the day before. That, if we had by chance delayed, or moved our raid one more day out¡­ it must be terrifying for her - seem like a timely coincidence that we were not all destroyed.

    Lakyus sighed, the tenor of things seeming clear to her.

    It wasn''t, though. Events were too specific for that. We were there to stop this. Evileye was there. Darkness was there. The King, convinced by the words of the Princess, to send Gazef. Brain Unglaus, convinced by the valor of Climb to fight as well. Raeven revealing himself a good man, to fight as well. A rare union of the casters and country. It¡¯s too many things. Too many great acts. All things happen with their purview, but this was the doing of the Gods.

    Idly working her way forward, Lakyus slowly drifted through the crowd, the usual deference to her presence - even if she was only recognized as a noblewoman rather than a servant of the Gods - entirely absent. There was no insult in this to her, the tragedy of too great a scale for her to even pay it mind. A jostling came from behind, then again, and, after she had ignored it, a third time. She did her best to shift to the side, minimizing her form to let whoever was attempting to pass her do so. A pair of priests passed by, both laden with water pails desperately gripped in their hands. The lead gave a half vocalized blessing as he passed, his weary eyes having no cause to inspect her. She knew both, brothers of the faith she had acquainted herself with two nights prior, but neither recognized her in their flurry, breaking past without further inspection of her as they bowled their way to the front pulpits. After a moment¡¯s thought, she decided to follow after.

    They allowed this, they facilitated this. They trust us with this. Was the fourth a victory? I don¡¯t know, I truly don¡¯t. So many were lost, but compared to days past? Six-thousand. It¡¯s a terrible count, but ultimately, a generous one. We defeated and drove away a being stronger than the Demon ¡®Gods¡¯ themselves in a single night. Evileye is certain of it. We denied him the object of his desire, throwing him and his armies back into the hells at sword point. Not even the Thirteen heroes were responsible for such acts.

    Pushing through, Lakyus cut her way to the front, a hundred children sitting in the space between the front of the pews and the foot of the dais. Scattered mothers and older sisters tended to the lot, a few having sunk down and began wailing themselves.

    A change had come over the world. Much is coming together. An archfiend, stronger than those of yore. Other monsters as well; that vampire, and whatever lich struck E-Rantel. Heroes too, coming together to fight them. Great casters, magnificent warriors, legends of our time. It has been two centuries since the time of the Demon ¡®Gods¡¯. In that time, many came together under the Banner of the Thirteen. They, and their associates beyond my ability to number, came against the foes of their age and defeated them. We will need to do the same. This¡­ this is acceptable. Besides, have the Gods not already granted me a weapon from that time?

    Lakyus was not in her battle dress, but she shifted her shoulders anyway, instinctually searching for the weight of a sword on her back that was not there. Kilineiram was in its scabbard back at their warehouse in the city outskirts. The night had been so wild and violent, so grand in its thesis about the world, that she had hoped that when Jaldabaoth had been vanquished, her blade would cease to speak, curse driven away by her divine fury. It had been quiet for a time, but as doubts began to creep in about the Demon and his ejection, its edge had again begun to whisper, robbing her of a restful sleep the night prior. Despite herself, Lakyus was crushed, a terrible sense of defeat coming over her. She had failed to vanquish its voice, and though she thought it not possible, it seemed as if she could hear that whispering even now, hazy backwards talk seeming to lie under the words of all those near her.

    And of that matter¡­ Perhaps the curse is growing stronger, taking its roots in me. I will fight this for the rest of my life, won¡¯t I?

    Lakyus swallowed and stepped up onto the dais. Many of the speakers had exhausted themselves in their recitations, and as she worked her way to the pulpit which held the Aquateuch, made to lay hands and restore those as she passed.

    I will. I will, and that¡¯s okay. This is my duty. My burden to bear. They could not do this. They would crumble under the weight. The Gods trust me. They trust me with this, just as they did the Black Knight, all those years ago. He wasn¡¯t even a warrior of faith, and yet he could bear this. I can too.

    Lakyus came to the book of her God, and after a moment¡¯s breath, began to preach.

    ¡ª

    Climb shuffled nervously in his armor, brushing the sweat from his hair and flicking it to the ground below. A few moments later, his hair rewet, and he did so again, before suddenly going taught as the entrance flap across from him went up. A uniformed man in a gambeson and breastplate stepping through, stiffening as he saw Climb. He looked Climb up and down.

    ¡°Your¡­¡±

    The man looked him up and down again.

    ¡°¡­the Princess¡¯s man, yes?¡±

    Climb bowed.

    ¡°Reporting, sir.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Guard Lieutenant, not a knight. You¡¯re here about the request we lodged.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lieutenant.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡±

    The man nervously cast his gaze to the side, lips fluttering as he tried to form words.

    He thinks the Princess sent me on inspection, doesn¡¯t he?

    ¡°Look, not that we don¡¯t want to watch these people, but we¡¯re strapped for manpower. We need men for the search, and for that we need to start getting these people back in their homes. Make proper identifications.¡±

    Climb nodded.

    ¡°We don¡¯t want to send them back to the ruined neighborhoods unless their domiciles are still standing, and we can¡¯t coordinate tightly with the rescue teams. We have a map, but we don¡¯t know which buildings were knocked down, and we¡¯re not gonna be able to send runner after runner to request individual assays. It would be easier if we could give the men a document, but the civil office hasn¡¯t been able to send over any administrators, and none of my men can write. Uh, you can, right?¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Yes, Lieutenant.¡±

    ¡°Good, you¡¯ll work then.¡±

    The Lieutenant fumbled in place, fruitlessly searching his person, before jolting over to a satchel left on the ground. He pulled from it a few sheets of paper, writing stylus, and wooden board, before handing it all to Climb.

    ¡°I just need you to get name and residence from the survivors. Just a name and residence.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    ¡°You- you and Unglaus, and Raeven¡¯s man, you two rescued all of these people, right? ¡±

    Climb gave a shallow nod, before bowing, turning around, and exiting the command tent. Pushing through the heavy fabric, he was happy to be free of the heat inside, it an article typically reserved for service in the cold plains of Katze. That army equipment was being furnished for use in the city was a testament to the desperation of the central administration; City Guard units - number cut nearly in half by the Demonic Disturbance - forced to now manage the crisis of its aftermath.

    At least supply isn¡¯t going to be an issue. This stationary was provided by Lord Raeven, yes? The tents were the Marquis'' as well. I¡­ it¡¯s confusing. I always thought he was untrustworthy or a politicker, but he¡¯s good, actually? Renner never made any mention of trusting him before, but now it seems like her and he and Zanac are working together just fine. Are they forming a¡­ faction? Is that how that works?

    Climb swallowed, realizing he while the matter was far beyond his ability to track, and it was not beyond his ability to influence - even by accident.

    If that¡¯s the case, then it¡¯s all the more important that I¡¯m here. She¡­ her, Raeven, Zanac, that group, they need me here. I need to be a face for them. Right¡­ I hope she¡¯s doing alright.

    The princess¡¯s madness had caught Climb completely unprepared; of the people he expected to panic, Renner was not one of them. That it had happened a day after confused him even more, not of the moment fear, but rather something she had come upon in the long hours of night. What it was, he couldn''t say, but something had scared her to the point of not sleeping. Be it a legitimate conspiracy she had discovered, or that she had simply overexerted herself thinking in circles, Climb did not know. The latter was sobering but preferable, but Climb was hesitant to ever doubt the ruminations of the Princess. Now, he felt his act of comfort was inadequate, dismissing her fears when he put her to bed.

    I still don¡¯t understand what scared her. Maybe she thinks Jaldabaoth is going to come back soon, or maybe she¡¯s torn up about this. Only the Gods know how many we lost.

    Climb made his way deeper into the muster yard, converted into a small village of tents to house those Climb and his comrades had managed to rescue from beyond the flame-wall. The three hundred or so they had broken out of the warehouse were the only escapees from the blaze. By Brain¡¯s estimation, there should have been another thirty-two stowages needed to hold the people seized by Jaldabaoth¡¯s forces, though every other structure investigated after was simply empty. It was as if every other person within the blaze had disappeared, even what minor traffic existed at the boundaries having been reaped. If there were any exceptions, none had made themselves known to Re-Estize¡¯s administration, leaving the city with the cold realization that thousands had been taken without recourse; worse, Climb knew that this would have been possible to stop.

    Though that demon was strong, we still slew it. Other warehouses could have been saved, but it was too late. Had we more forces, perhaps we could have moved earlier, or sent more rescue teams. That we had to worry about manpower that night. That we have to worry about it now!

    Climb¡¯s fists balled, gaze growing steely as he worked his way through to the center. Besides House Vaiself, Raeven, and Raeven¡¯s vassals, the nobility had failed to act. No manor had sent force complements, and even in the aftermath, none had provided support. The effort of counting the missing was beyond anything the city government had attempted before, and though the city¡¯s civil service was for the most part intact, the manner in which the demon incursion had completely devastated multiple, adjacent neighborhoods demanded a much greater investment of effort to quantify. Without an inflow of bodies to the morgue, nor heads of household to report, the only methods left were a thorough survey of the rest of the city or a dredging of the tax record; though the former would be much faster, it would require each lord bound by the city covenant to expend their own resources to conduct a door-to-door census, something House Vaiself didn¡¯t even bother asking. What was left, then, was the tax record, any detailed study of which was likely to take months. In the interim, only rough estimates could be had, something which Climb had lost the ability to stomach after the third official adjustment up. For his part, he prayed them dead.

    Climb entered into the center circle of the encampment, some City Guard working a cooking fire at a distance, lest they succumb to the heat. He frowned, unable to spot anyone who could be considered a civilian.

    They must be sheltering in the tents.

    Climb paused for a moment, looking around nervously. After a moment¡¯s trepidations, he shrugged to no-one, and headed for the nearest tent. Raising his hand out of instinct, he remembered there was no way to knock cloth, and instead moved to open it. Entering, he rubbed his eyes to adjust, a woman¡¯s voice cutting through the space.

    ¡°You.¡±

    Her voice was venomous, loaded with hatred. He blinked a few more times, trying to find the speaker in the dark.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him?¡±

    Climb finally made out a figure moving toward him, unable to understand her.

    ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him!?¡±

    ¡°Save-¡±

    The woman made to smack Climb, he stepping back just in time to avoid it. This only seemed to enrage her further, and she made to do so again with her other hand, Climb dodging the second blow just as deftly. At this, she shrieked, and barreled at him; Climb forced himself to take hold still and the charge, lest she run right through the tent wall. He caught her as she ran into him, holding his ground without a step back.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him?!¡±

    Balling her fists, she pounded at his head, Climb gripping his stationary as tight as he could while he shielded himself. Her blows fell down to his chest, failing to so much as jostle his breastplate, before she again shrieked and pushed herself off in anger, stomping off to the other side of the room and collapsing into a cot in an explosion of tears.

    Climb swallowed, finally taking stock of the room to find four other men staring back at him. One, a teenager no older than he was, piped up in a sardonic tone.

    ¡°What are you doing here? Haven''t you done enough for your little Princess.¡±

    Climb bristled, but stuffed it down, straightening himself before responding.

    ¡°Collecting name and residence. We want to get you back in your homes.¡±

    ¡°What home? My mother and father are gone. My brothers and sister are gone. Fuck off.¡±

    The boy grew more unsteady under Climb¡¯s gaze, before breaking from his place and storming out of the tent, thin streaks of tears running down his face. His eyes lingered on the flap for a moment, before a voice cut in from behind.

    ¡°His name was Glim, Glim Barker. Dad had a butcher shop down on the south-flow.¡±

    Climb snapped round, seeing two of the three remaining men had moved forward.

    ¡°Right, thank you.¡±

    Climb hastily made to jot down his words, bracing the board on his chest while scrawling with his right.

    ¡°Her first name is Ren. I don¡¯t know her last, or where she lives.¡±

    ¡°Ren Deriyla! Foresain road!¡±

    The woman screamed it into her cot, another violent set of cries as she continued into her lament.

    ¡°I¡¯m Gilles Nor; I don¡¯t live here, just a bargeman up from Re-Blumrusher. This is Klyel Unrup, has a home-¡±

    ¡°Southbridge tenement. It was on fire when I was taken, so, not much luck.¡±

    ¡°And, um¡­¡±

    Gilles looked back to the elderly man who had yet to make a move, quietly sitting on the side of his cot.

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t said anything.¡±

    Climb finished writing, before nodding, and walking over to the older man. He stared tiredly at Climb, avoiding his gaze as Climb drew closer. Climb was grateful for this, the look in the old man¡¯s eyes more somber still. Climb felt about ready to empty stomach contents.

    ¡°Mister¡­ Uh, could I have your name and residence?¡±

    The old man gave a slow exhale, closing his eyes and cringing.

    ¡°Marv. Don¡¯t have a last name. Also on Foresain road.¡±

    ¡°Thank-¡±

    ¡°I want my daughter back. I just want her back.¡±

    His words were dashed under his tears, dissolving into a general slurry that ran down his face. He buried himself in his hands a moment later, gentle sobs mixing with the woman beside him. Turning around, Climb saw that same sort of hateful look in the two men standing as the boy had. He finished his writing as fast as possible and bolted out of the tent. Back in the sunlight, Climb bent over, stilling for a moment as he fought down his lunch.

    She needs me out here. She needs me. She wouldn¡¯t want these people left alone, and someone needs to do this. It should be me.

    Climb slowly righted himself, and after a long breath, proceeded to the next tent.

    ¡ª

    Renner felt her shadow drag itself up her face and slither into her ear.

    ¡°Mistress. Your bodyguard is approaching.¡±

    Would it be too difficult to call him Climb?

    Renner gave a slight nod, tapping her armrest once as acknowledgement. The thing slipped out of her ear and pushed off, losing itself between the many shafts of the evening sun. Silence hung an instant longer, before the door to her room opened and he stepped through.

    ¡°Climb, it¡¯s wonderful to see you.¡±

    More than I could put into words. Please, my darling, linger with me a moment.

    He bowed his typical depth, tufts of blond hair catching in the rays of light, before raising himself and making his way over to her. Renner gestured to his typical chair.

    ¡°Have a seat.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness, but I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t stay long; I¡¯ve more work to do for the recovery.¡±

    It is a good boy who makes up for his mistress¡¯s excesses, but Climb, we are in a time for excess.

    A slight smile grew on Renner¡¯s face, the grievous insult washing off and over her as if it had never been uttered at all. It was as if the entire world had picked itself up and rearranged. Had Climb said those words a day ago, she would have been run through with spikes of possessiveness, an overwhelming desire to wrench him from his duties and make him sit; now, she felt nothing but slight amusement. There was no control over him to wrest, no halcyon fantasy to embitter the moment. There was only Renner, Climb, and the utter certainty that she would have her glory over him.

    A little play, then.

    ¡°Mm, with the Warrior-Captain, yes? I suppose things are well at hand¡­ Climb, how are the people doing? Those you helped, I mean. My understanding is that you¡¯ve spent the interim hours away from your palace duties.¡±

    Climb squirmed in a way she found pleasurable.

    ¡°Y-yes, that¡¯s correct. Everyone was quite thankful to you, Your Highness.¡±

    The way he dragged the preposition¡­ A lie? Pertaining to the latter clause? I suppose the people were less than grateful for the help they received. Not unsurprising that he would make that then, though a little displeasing. Punish him.

    ¡°Eh? I understand. Then, I suppose it would be prudent to go and see them.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡±

    Climb exploded, before suddenly pulling his body taught. He swallowed, then lowered his head a moment later, words stumbling out of his mouth as fast as he could issue them.

    ¡°The search effort is still underway, and while I think your presence would be appreciated, that it would take people away from their duties. I hope you- I hope you understand, Your Highness.¡±

    Oh, Climb, they said awful things to you, didn¡¯t they? Things that tore at your heart; things sent your insides churning. You saw¡­ parents morning their children. Professionals lamenting the deaths of their apprentices. Shattered, hollowed out women whose every friend and acquaintance was ripped from them. Youth coming to grips with lives that would never start - boys your age. Crushing dooms beyond your capacity to know, but not beyond your capacity for guilt. This was one of the worst days of your life. No wonder I am not fit for such a place.

    Renner let her smile grow, until her whole face shown with unbidden radiance.

    He has sought me, and wishes deeply to rest in my veil. He wishes to doff every armor of his, to curl up next to me, to rage, and to cry. How cruel of them. How cruel of the world. Are not they grateful? It was he who threw himself into danger for him, his mistress who ordered him into it. And yet, they sit and they wail because he could not save those they loved, others he most certainly would have had he the ability. How crushing. How oppressive. He has been driven to me by such things. How delectable.

    With the knowledge she had now gained of the male sex, Renner¡¯s fantasies had finally snapped into relief, the mechanics of reproduction that had eluded her all her life finally caught. A little of that dripped into the moment now, and she found herself mired in a growing thrill. She tempered her smile.

    ¡°Of course. No matter, then.¡±

    A degree of relief came over Climb, Renner mesmerized by the ways she could make him dance to her words.

    Chardelon, hold yourself back a little longer. Endeavor to make his world just that much worse.

    ¡°Now then, Climb, I have something¡­ rather horrible to say. Something important.¡±

    Not only her words but her timbre as well washed over him, Climb closing his eyes and bracing himself for what she had to say.

    ¡°The women you and mister Sebas fought to save from the brothel-¡±

    Renner made herself swallow.

    ¡°-were murdered.¡±

    Climb made no coherent sound, expression degenerating second after second as he made several failed attempts to speak. After a time, he was able to get out a word.

    ¡°How-¡±

    He twitched, stumbling over his words again.

    ¡°But how¡­ how could that have happened?¡±

    Renner had no sure knowledge of how the women were killed, only that the matter had been completed but two minutes after her return to Valencia. With the power of her hidden bodyguard, she suspected it to have been the work of what she had accurately termed shadow demons the evening prior. No matter how it had been done, it was an exercise by her masters not merely of power, but of prudence. A need had arisen, and so it had been done, without comment or complaint. For all the many dooms humanity was to be subjected too, they would not even have the mercy of an enemy that sabotaged themselves.

    He is invested in them. Need he be so? I suppose yes, but they are not who matter here. As much as I wish to drive him to me, I don¡¯t believe I could bear him lamenting the deaths of other women. Displeasing. What I rehearsed will not work. Force his attentions to what is actually important.

    ¡°A mistake, one I believe¡­ I made. Normally, I would leave this sort of work to an adventurer team, and I had intended to, but due to the incursion, none were available; those I had were sent off for the assault. So I had¡­ hired a mercenary band instead.¡±

    Renner gave the thinnest hint of a frown, and shook her head, eyes dancing away from Climb in a facsimile of guilt.

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not true, Your Highness! Renner, this- this isn¡¯t your fault! Gods, it¡¯s the murderers who are to blame!¡±

    Topple him. Make him writhe a little more. Make him obsess.

    ¡°No! Not like how you think. Had I been more careful, more prudent and attentive, I would have sent them away that night or the next. I knew our security was torn right-through but I did not extend my thoughts to them. This¡­ this didn¡¯t need to happen. H-had you been there, their murders wouldn''t have been attempted. I relied too much on the credibility of the outfit. There must have been a turncoat in the band - the guild thought them an upstanding company.¡±

    Renner batted her eyes, forcing tears to appear in their edges.

    ¡°You- you didn¡¯t do anything wrong, Your Highness.¡±

    Indeed. Everything I have done has been for us, Climb. A wonderful assertion.

    Renner sprang from her chair, and embraced him. He stumbled a little, losing his words as he tried to account for her movements.

    ¡°But, how did knowledge of them-¡±

    She mumbled into his breast, hands groping the backside of his plate. She dearly wished she could do more.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t a certainty. We called up every guardsman, gatesman, or otherwise during the disturbance; I¡¯d hazard the enemy sent a runner through then. Gods, I should have sent those women away then.¡±

    ¡°Where were the bodies found?¡±

    Gods, he smells wonderful, doesn¡¯t he?

    It was the alluring sort of musk that always seemed to hang over him late in the day. Though she had moved to grant Climb many a luxury beyond his station, it was the reason why she had never done so for perfume. Innumerable scents blended together into something she could not describe in words, the sort of thing that could only be experienced, in those rare moments where she could get close to him.

    ¡°Scattered throughout the lower districts, but I¡­ I don¡¯t know any more - couldn¡¯t bear to listen.¡±

    ¡°And, of them?¡±

    Renner¡¯s hands slipped a little low, frustrated as she only felt more of his cuirass. Though his full plate had been a point of pride for her - a culmination of years worth of influence on both him and Lakyus - she now wished she had never ordered its construction at all.

    ¡°Hm? Oh, they¡¯ve been given over to He of the Silken Earth. What of it?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ want to examine the wounds, see what I could learn.¡±

    Renner wished to shred his armor, to dig into it with her hands and tear it away. To rip apart his undergarments, and leave him bare.

    ¡°Climb, I¡­ I can¡¯t permit that. Those women have lived unwholesome, agonized lives. Let them rest in death.¡±

    Climb¡¯s lips fluttered a little longer, before he closed his eyes and nodded. She wished to force him to the ground and to take him there. To scoop his flesh into her arms. To taste his skin. To bury herself in his scent. To make marks and bites on him. To force herself upon his lips. To learn the joys of his body. For him to do the same to her. For him to take her, and make true all the little dreams of hers. She wished to fuck him. Renner shifted her legs.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t see this as an inadequacy of yours. If I am to be called blameless, then you certainly¡­ ah, I see we¡¯ve exchanged positions.¡±

    Renner leaned back from her embrace, a smile returning to her reddened face.

    ¡°Yes, we have.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for keeping you. Then, Climb, I yield you to your duties.¡±

 Temp announcement: edit made to IV-4.

    Whoops, skipped a scene! Realized I forgot to include a scene in IV-5, and to make room, needed to kick back a passage from that chapter into IV-4. I edited it already to include the passage, but for posterity, it will also be included here. I will delete this page when I upload IV-5 publicly.

    ¡ª

    Renner felt her shadow drag itself up her face and slither into her ear.

    ¡°Mistress. Your bodyguard is approaching.¡±

    Would it be too difficult to call him Climb?

    Renner gave a slight nod, tapping her armrest once as acknowledgement. The thing slipped out of her ear and pushed off, losing itself between the many shafts of the evening sun. Silence hung an instant longer, before the door to her room opened and he stepped through.

    ¡°Climb, it¡¯s wonderful to see you.¡±

    More than I could put into words. Please, my darling, linger with me a moment.

    He bowed his typical depth, tufts of blond hair catching in the rays of light, before raising himself and making his way over to her. Renner gestured to his typical chair.

    ¡°Have a seat.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness, but I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t stay long; I¡¯ve more work to do for the recovery.¡±

    It is a good boy who makes up for his mistress¡¯s excesses, but Climb, we are in a time for excess.

    A slight smile grew on Renner¡¯s face, the grievous insult washing off and over her as if it had never been uttered at all. It was as if the entire world had picked itself up and rearranged. Had Climb said those words a day ago, she would have been run through with spikes of possessiveness, an overwhelming desire to wrench him from his duties and make him sit; now, she felt nothing but slight amusement. There was no control over him to wrest, no halcyon fantasy to embitter the moment. There was only Renner, Climb, and the utter certainty that she would have her glory over him.

    A little play, then.

    ¡°Mm, with the Warrior-Captain, yes? I suppose things are well at hand¡­ Climb, how are the people doing? Those you helped, I mean. My understanding is that you¡¯ve spent the interim hours away from your palace duties.¡±

    Climb squirmed in a way she found pleasurable.

    ¡°Y-yes, that¡¯s correct. Everyone was quite thankful to you, Your Highness.¡±

    The way he dragged the preposition¡­ A lie? Pertaining to the latter clause? I suppose the people were less than grateful for the help they received. Not unsurprising that he would make that then, though a little displeasing. Punish him.

    ¡°Eh? I understand. Then, I suppose it would be prudent to go and see them.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡±

    Climb exploded, before suddenly pulling his body taught. He swallowed, then lowered his head a moment later, words stumbling out of his mouth as fast as he could issue them.

    ¡°The search effort is still underway, and while I think your presence would be appreciated, that it would take people away from their duties. I hope you- I hope you understand, Your Highness.¡±

    Oh, Climb, they said awful things to you, didn¡¯t they? Things that tore at your heart; things sent your insides churning. You saw¡­ parents morning their children. Professionals lamenting the deaths of their apprentices. Shattered, hollowed out women whose every friend and acquaintance was ripped from them. Youth coming to grips with lives that would never start - boys your age. Crushing dooms beyond your capacity to know, but not beyond your capacity for guilt. This was one of the worst days of your life. No wonder I am not fit for such a place.

    Renner let her smile grow, until her whole face shown with unbidden radiance.

    He has sought me, and wishes deeply to rest in my veil. He wishes to doff every armor of his, to curl up next to me, to rage, and to cry. How cruel of them. How cruel of the world. Are not they grateful? It was he who threw himself into danger for him, his mistress who ordered him into it. And yet, they sit and they wail because he could not save those they loved, others he most certainly would have had he the ability. How crushing. How oppressive. He has been driven to me by such things. How delectable.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    With the knowledge she had now gained of the male sex, Renner¡¯s fantasies had finally snapped into relief, the mechanics of reproduction that had eluded her all her life finally caught. A little of that dripped into the moment now, and she found herself mired in a growing thrill. She tempered her smile.

    ¡°Of course. No matter, then.¡±

    A degree of relief came over Climb, Renner mesmerized by the ways she could make him dance to her words.

    Chardelon, hold yourself back a little longer. Endeavor to make his world just that much worse.

    ¡°Now then, Climb, I have something¡­ rather horrible to say. Something important.¡±

    Not only her words but her timbre as well washed over him, Climb closing his eyes and bracing himself for what she had to say.

    ¡°The women you and mister Sebas fought to save from the brothel-¡±

    Renner made herself swallow.

    ¡°-were murdered.¡±

    Climb made no coherent sound, expression degenerating second after second as he made several failed attempts to speak. After a time, he was able to get out a word.

    ¡°How-¡±

    He twitched, stumbling over his words again.

    ¡°But how¡­ how could that have happened?¡±

    Renner had no sure knowledge of how the women were killed, only that the matter had been completed but two minutes after her return to Valencia. With the power of her hidden bodyguard, she suspected it to have been the work of what she had accurately termed shadow demons the evening prior. No matter how it had been done, it was an exercise by her masters not merely of power, but of prudence. A need had arisen, and so it had been done, without comment or complaint. For all the many dooms humanity was to be subjected too, they would not even have the mercy of an enemy that sabotaged themselves.

    He is invested in them. Need he be so? I suppose yes, but they are not who matter here. As much as I wish to drive him to me, I don¡¯t believe I could bear him lamenting the deaths of other women. Displeasing. What I rehearsed will not work. Force his attentions to what is actually important.

    ¡°A mistake, one I believe¡­ I made. Normally, I would leave this sort of work to an adventurer team, and I had intended to, but due to the incursion, none were available; those I had were sent off for the assault. So I had¡­ hired a mercenary band instead.¡±

    Renner gave the thinnest hint of a frown, and shook her head, eyes dancing away from Climb in a facsimile of guilt.

    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not true, Your Highness! Renner, this- this isn¡¯t your fault! Gods, it¡¯s the murderers who are to blame!¡±

    Topple him. Make him writhe a little more. Make him obsess.

    ¡°No! Not like how you think. Had I been more careful, more prudent and attentive, I would have sent them away that night or the next. I knew our security was torn right-through but I did not extend my thoughts to them. This¡­ this didn¡¯t need to happen. H-had you been there, their murders wouldn''t have been attempted. I relied too much on the credibility of the outfit. There must have been a turncoat in the band - the guild thought them an upstanding company.¡±

    Renner batted her eyes, forcing tears to appear in their edges.

    ¡°You- you didn¡¯t do anything wrong, Your Highness.¡±

    Indeed. Everything I have done has been for us, Climb. A wonderful assertion.

    Renner sprang from her chair, and embraced him. He stumbled a little, losing his words as he tried to account for her movements.

    ¡°But, how did knowledge of them-¡±

    She mumbled into his breast, hands groping the backside of his plate. She dearly wished she could do more.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t a certainty. We called up every guardsman, gatesman, or otherwise during the disturbance; I¡¯d hazard the enemy sent a runner through then. Gods, I should have sent those women away then.¡±

    ¡°Where were the bodies found?¡±

    Gods, he smells wonderful, doesn¡¯t he?

    It was the alluring sort of musk that always seemed to hang over him late in the day. Though she had moved to grant Climb many a luxury beyond his station, it was the reason why she had never done so for perfume. Innumerable scents blended together into something she could not describe in words, the sort of thing that could only be experienced, in those rare moments where she could get close to him.

    ¡°Scattered throughout the lower districts, but I¡­ I don¡¯t know any more - couldn¡¯t bear to listen.¡±

    ¡°And, of them?¡±

    Renner¡¯s hands slipped a little low, frustrated as she only felt more of his cuirass. Though his full plate had been a point of pride for her - a culmination of years worth of influence on both him and Lakyus - she now wished she had never ordered its construction at all.

    ¡°Hm? Oh, they¡¯ve been given over to He of the Silken Earth. What of it?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ want to examine the wounds, see what I could learn.¡±

    Renner wished to shred his armor, to dig into it with her hands and tear it away. To rip apart his undergarments, and leave him bare.

    ¡°Climb, I¡­ I can¡¯t permit that. Those women have lived unwholesome, agonized lives. Let them rest in death.¡±

    Climb¡¯s lips fluttered a little longer, before he closed his eyes and nodded. She wished to force him to the ground and to take him there. To scoop his flesh into her arms. To taste his skin. To bury herself in his scent. To make marks and bites on him. To force herself upon his lips. To learn the joys of his body. For him to do the same to her. For him to take her, and make true all the little dreams of hers. She wished to fuck him. Renner shifted her legs.

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t see this as an inadequacy of yours. If I am to be called blameless, then you certainly¡­ ah, I see we¡¯ve exchanged positions.¡±

    Renner leaned back from her embrace, a smile returning to her reddened face.

    ¡°Yes, we have.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for keeping you. Then, Climb, I yield you to your duties.¡±

 Announcement of Indefinite Hiatus

    TL/DR: I am going on an indefinite hiatus for sake of my health, education, and creative integrity. I intend to move to a volume based schedule that will allow me to write and edit far in advance of actual releases. In addition to that, I will be rewriting portions of  The Golden Princess that no longer support what I have planned for the story. As usual, open to questions in comments.

    The past year or so, I have endeavored to forge my imagination into something material, taking the vague fragments of my hypnagogic thoughts and hammering it into a work. For me, this has taken the form of the written word, and in this process, I have taught myself to read and write anew.  Through this process, what was originally a story I didn¡¯t initially plan to be much more than an eventual retread of the events of canon with some light romance has turned into a work of dark fantasy that takes Princess Renner and rebuilds the story of Overlord around her. That rebuilt story has gone from (frankly boring) high level conflict between the greats of the world to a much more personal story about suffering and the people who enjoy causing it. It is a story that I now suspect (with the aid of some back of the napkin math) will go somewhere north of 800k words, or, perhaps at the extreme, a million.

    While I am proud of what I have made, enjoy the story I have told and wish to read more of it, I have indulged in certain unsustainable practices to do so. I am a full time student, and while I have never prioritized writing above my schoolwork, I have prioritized those two things above everything else, including my physical health, mental wellbeing, loved ones, personal growth, and future prospects. These neglects have finally caught up with me in earnest, and I am now sufficiently behind my peers with regards to tomorrow. My work on  The Golden Princess  was done not on top of, but in place of those tasks, and I now find myself (quite literally) run thin by it.

    I am going on a release hiatus. A long one. This does not mean I will stop writing. Though my pace will most likely slow significantly, I will continue work on both  The Golden Princess, She of the Breach  (working title), and stories for  The Ladder  (working title). Rather, I will not be releasing. I will instead keep my work in reserve, revise and edit it to a degree of reasonable competence, and release it when it is more suitable for your eyes.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    While I understand it is the artist¡¯s urge to hate what they¡¯ve made and desire to ¡°scrap it and start over,¡±  The Golden Princess  has unfortunately outgrown itself, with some fairly gorey results. My planned midpoint, climax, and conclusion for the fic have all changed drastically from how I set out, and much of the early setup I¡¯ve done has been left aimed at nothing as a result. Several plot threads now hang dangling in an extremely unsatisfying way; specific examples include the: cryptography manual gifted to Renner by Jircniv (which would have lead to the original version of Renner¡¯s initial Nazarick contact through encoded letters), Evileye¡¯s employ of Greater Teleportation (something which was to serve as the beginnings of setup for the cut second climax), anything relating to Keveleos (a character I have so thoroughly butchered he isn¡¯t even worth salvaging), Lakyus¡¯s struggle with the sword, and some more minor points that are never resolved. At the same time, several elements of the characters on screen and the Kingdom itself worthy of exploration have been left fallow. Suffice it to say, I need to clean these things up, and in order to do that, a fairly significant amount of text needs to be overhauled.

    I say the above because I want to finish The Golden Princess. Rather, not The Golden Princess as it does exist, but as it ought. It is not merely enough for me to drag the story out of my head and slap it on the page. I must write it, and I must write it well.

    Further, I am increasingly coming to grips with the fact that I want to be a writer; as someone who went out of her way to avoid liberal arts classes for most of my education, someone currently in the throes of an engineering degree, I¡¯m sure you can see why this is a bit of a shift. At the same time, I am not going to shift priorities to that end entirely. I desire the security and safety-net that an engineering career will provide, and feel the need to take a more serious and focused approach to my education.

    I do intend to finish  The Golden Princess . Intentions mean little, but I hope my actions (and word count) thus far speak to my ability to do this task. While the specific details of every chapter and their scenes is not something I have yet ideated, the story is essentially complete, in the sense that I know exactly what I am working to, and what themes, lynchpin scenes, and delicious agonies I wish to enumerate. Push comes to shove, and I am for whatever reason unable to or unwilling to finish the story, I will release my notes and outline, or perhaps AI generate some abomination in the vein of what I wish to write.

    Renner deserves to be brought to life on the page. She and her kingdom deserve a more fitting ending than canon. I just need a little more time to make that happen.