Grand Bank, Duchess Agustria's Estate, a Few Days Before the Queen's Voyage Would Meet Athius

_{@Donut Look Now, @Click This}

---

“Please allow us to escort you to her grace. It wouldn’t do if her esteemed guests were to get lost. It is, after all, a very large house.”

Mene stepped out of the carriage with his ‘sister’, greeting the staff with a polite smile. He hoped it was convincing enough to hide the squeamishness that caused his skin to feel itchy and palms to clam up.

It seemed Her Grace was very, very untrusting, due to what she saw at Duke Rhinecliff's estate. Mene should have seen this coming. He should have gotten off the carriage and walked the last ten minutes himself. That we he would have had a chance to slip through a crack and enter the estate in secret?

Now?

Now they were flying by the seat of their pants. One of them had to be free to look through correspondence or pick up whispered secrets. But how?

“If possible, could you lead my brother to a lavatory? The journey here was long, after all.”

Ah, his sister. Quick thinking as always. It truly made him admire her more, and he shot a relieved glance in her direction. Perhaps he could slip away on the way or in the lavatory.

He pretended to squirm, an embaressed flush growing over his cheeks. ”Ah, yes. It is somewhat of an emergency…”

Meanwhile, his ring glimmered. He set his intention to be able to slip away in a momentary lapse in attention, and wished for it terribly. If there was even a hint, even a possibility it could happen - he, and his ring, would take advantage of it.

Duchess of Caelin

---

Grand Bank, Agustria House\\
@Estylwen, @Donut Look Now

‘Asteria’s’ suggestion immediately drew consternation from the leading maid, who narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two young nobles, knowing well what their instruction had been from the duchess herself. The older, more experienced Vauxhall, however, did not miss a beat and nodded at the twins’ request. “Very well,” replied the older man, “If you will follow me, we will show you to a guest lavatory.”

Another of the maids gestured for Mene to follow the steward, and as soon as he did so, she and another maid fell in behind him. If questioned, they would respond they would be helping to escort an honored guest—but the presence of three people did make it difficult for him to slip away in the hallway, even with the advantages of his ring. The ring did work; there were numerous distractions along the short way—a dapper butler in the hallway that briefly drew the admiring attention of one of the maids; a sneeze the steward; but each time, one of the three covered for the others until they made it to the bathroom. This was one of the lavatories afforded to guests for the sitting room. Like any proper room on an estate as large as this, it was large and well appointed. Particularly of note was the opaque frosted window that allowed light in, but little much else.

The two remaining maids meanwhile brought ‘Asteria’ directly to Mirie in her study without her brother. Filing in behind their guest, they stood at the ready. The duchess was sitting at her desk, frowning for a moment when she noticed the white-haired girl was alone. Then she decided that it was probably for the better. The absence of panic in her household staff so far meant that whatever was going on with her brother was under control for the moment.

“Viscountess Asteria, a pleasure to see you again. My maids’ welcoming party was not too jarring, I hope?”

---

Swiftsure, At Sea, Several Days Later, Afternoon\\
@Estylwen, @Irradiant, @The Otter

Hamilton, to an extent, had expected that the Swiftsure would become the ghosts’ latest punching bag the moment the ship had engaged them. Some of the fire had shifted towards the dragon at Callum’s hollering, and a few guns on the weather deck even opened up on it. Unfortunately, they were loaded with proper cannonballs, easily missing their airborne target despite its size. Jikoryss’s reply was far more devastating. The peal of lightning smacked against its upper gundeck, cracking wood and knocking back some of the guns peeking out from their ports, snapping their rope bindings and even fully dismounting a few cannons that landed on their unfortunate crews. The ship shuddered and shook, but shouldered on.

Faith’s attack was less materially damaging, but dealt the greater proportion of injury to the men as his lance slammed into the weather deck among the ranks of shooters and mages. A few were killed outright and the rest scattered, some being blown overboard or across the deck and forcing Hamilton and some of his officers to briefly duck for cover.

“Blast it all, this wasn’t the type of battle we prepared for,” he muttered, making a pained expression at the damage to his ship and his men. His captain immediately began calling for the injured to be brought below deck as the others rallied the men and began firing back again. The guns on the weather deck were the most equipped to shoot back, and this time with grape shot as they began to fire canisters of metal pellets at both Faith and the dragon.

It wasn't a good situation, but Hamilton was hardly out of resources. He might not have an angry dragon or monster fighters, but quantity was still quality on its own. “Signal the fleet. Form up defensively around the Swiftsure and the Minstrel and fire on that dragon!”

Sailing in line formation expecting a naval threat had been a mistake. With enough people shooting at the dragon and the toadies of the Ravenfell king, though, he reasoned it would be enough to drive them off.

-

Underwater, Mirie and Minuette were having a much better time. Valor’s intervention had been unexpected, but a somewhat welcome one. In a way, she was a hindrance to the duchess’s plans, with the queen and her allies in battle further below, but Valot was also an unambiguously obvious enemy and threat for her to target immediately. Being underwater hindered communication, though, and she had to signal the countess to spread out as Valor attacked with a golden light, whipping up the water around them into a frenzied whirlpool.

Mirie countered with a storm of her own, gathering the vast quantity of bubbles and air in the churning waters into a turbulent wave to counter Valor’s swirling water. Stepping out from the turgid currents, she charged at Valor, cutting out at her with bolts of air that sliced towards the ghostly woman. At the same time, Minuette came in from another angle, slashing out with her sword while Valor was forced to dodge Mirie’s spells.

---

Oh. I'm not her secret police. I'm just her fixer. That's fantastic.

His left hand shot up, reflexively catching the very unfortunately slimy Seed that was spat his way as he already tried to forget the sight of the oversized fish trying to speak to him. It only stood to reason that something would go wrong, significantly wrong, below the suface to match what was happening above. At least the queen's preparation didn't leave anything to scoff at, giving him one of the other rings just in case for this eventuality. "Alright, then, let's—"

He ducked to the side, hand swiping another of the pearly crystals out of the air as Captain Thorne threw yet another his way.

Ah. Wonderful. Double duty. Or is it triple at this point? I'm losing track.

He shot Spirit a disinterested glare, stepping back towards the railing as the mercenary captain stepped between them. "Can't play this time, sorry," he quipped with a small wave, lazily rolling backwards over the ship's rail as the dragon and the other foreigner decided to assault the Swiftsure. Before he even hit the water, the ring he'd been given blew a skintight bubble out around him, leaving him floating perfectly dry in the water.

Before he began to dive rapidly, aided by the ring's own propulsion, cursing and narrowly evading the stray fire from Mirie, Hayworth, and the third Ravenfell intruder. Undeterred by the prospect that the ghostly people had found some way to multiply, he sped along towards the queen, slowing at the sight of the creature she had come to try and tame. "Ah, rach air muin," he grumbled looking at the momentarily-blinded Ingens. "Iasg na galla. You said these go in its head, aye?"

Where had the court mage even gone? Knocked out and sent to the depths? Surely she couldn't have sank so fast if that was the case, sank at all, even—but he hadn't seen her come floating to the top either. Eaten? Dia, don't tell me this thing ate one of us... He swallowed, pulling his dagger free with his right hand, if only to have something to try and pry up Ingens's scales with.

"...Your majesty." The honorific came late, an afterthought, manners reasserting themselves despite the beast before him. "Captain Thorne is occupied on the deck. I'll try and be quick about this." With a small salute with the dagger—slow and sloppy through the water, but hopefully the thought would count for something—he turned, and sped on towards Ingens while the beast blearily tried to right its vision. At least the tentacles should be fairly easy to see if it tried to flail about more, and easy to see meant at least some chance of avoidance...or, failing that, he supposed he could always just grab on if one should hit him and try and pull himself along it.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Grand Bank, Duchess Agustria's Estate, A Few Days Previous

_{@Click This}

---

Mene gave his ‘sister’ a parting look before following Vauxhall down the hall. It was immediately unnerving to have two maids follow closely behind him. He could feel their stares hollowing holes out of his back. And, no matter how he wished or how his ring gleamed, there was not enough of an opportunity to slip away.

So, alas, he found himself in the lavatory, at a complete loss for what to do. His gaze immediately went to the large window. His fingers even traced around its edges, looking, hoping for a latch to open it. Alas, he had no such luck.

A part of him wanted to quit there, and simply return to his sister and the duchess to enjoy under the guise of a friendly meeting. But… Her Majesty was already upset with them. It meant that if he, if they failed one more time…

He didn't care for himself, but his sister… If anything were to happen to her, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

There was an empty stone chamber pot on the floor. It was exquisite, with flecks of gold running through the polished granite. Heavy so as to deter guests from moving it; to leave that task to the maids. But perhaps… Perhaps he could use it.

First, Mene ensured the lavatory door was locked from his side. That would give him a few seconds of a head start. Then, Mene picked up the chamber pot by its lipped rim, approached the window, coiled and held his breath… Before he slammed the stone chamber pot into the window with all the strength he could muster, ring glimmering once again to increase his chances of shattering the window.

---

Present Day, Battle-Blood Minstrel, Above Athius

_{@Irradiant, @The Otter, @Click This}

---

"Can't play this time, sorry,"

Spirit growled in annoyance, watching as Callum disappeared over the ship's railing. His eyes were drawn back to the Captain, contempt in his demeanor and he drew his sword. ”You're going to regret interfering, old man.”

Captain Thorne balked, ”Old man?! I'm 29! …What, is it the beard?”

As Spirit aimed to break through Captain Thorne's shield, his dagger glowing with a gold Deshell, his shadow… well, it moved.

In the next instance, a hooded man holding a broadsword materialized out of Spirit's shadow, slamming his blade hard. Spirit turned on his heel, sword clashing. The deshell meant for the captain was instead transferred to his second-in-command, John Jones, who let out an irritated groan, now suffused with a gold aura.

”Great, see what happens when I cover for you, ’old man’!”

Captain Thorne shot back. ”Again, I'm not old!”

Spirit, rolling his eyes, prepared another spell to end the stalemate. But before he could use it, he was blown back with a wicked wind of frozen ice crystals. Vulluin stepped forward, joining the side of the captain and John. His gaze momentarily absorbed the carnage of the ship, the bodies of fallen soldiers and sailors, before his gaze fell flatly on Spirit.

”You're not escaping us, foreigner. Treason against the Queen is punishable by death.” He said, hand raised with another spell of ice.

Spirit merely smirked darkly under his mask, dagger at the ready. ”Good thing I only report to the true king.”

***

Under the water's surface, Valor could only cooly smile underneath her mask. She had gained quite a bit of attention, it had seemed. Though her target was still far below the water's surface, she would need to take care of the Queen's nobles before moving on to stopping this whole nonsense of ‘taming a leviathan.’

The blasts of air from Duchess Agustria were dodged easily enough. However, it was only the crack of a cut that alerted Valor to Minuette's sword attack. Her sword had wedged itself into her golden sphere, causing water to enter in pressurized streams. Valor looked with a lidded gaze, before a flash of light caught her eye. More than one flash, and brilliant orange hair…

Before she could do anything about Callum whizzing past her to the Queen below, one of the slices of mana had made its home in her sphere, passing through the construct to hit her square in the chest. The others did the same, and Valor hung there limply in the water, her armour shattered and clothes torn.

Before she raised her hand, an angry glint in her eye. Not needing to breathe, she clenched her fist. Specks of gold began to coalesce around Duchess Agustria, Minuette and Sir Hayworth. Each began to twist, growing like snowflakes snaking across freezing glass. They grew and grew, forming cubes that tried to bind themselves to the Arrowfell citizens and to the cubes around them. Attempting to both cage them and squish them under the pressure of golden cubes coming together.

***

Down further below, The Wizard Queen glanced over at Callum.

"Captain Thorne is occupied on the deck. I'll try and be quick about this."

It was necessary to read his lips as he spoke, the water muffling most of what he said. The Wizard Queen nodded in understanding, an anglerfish passing beside her. With a gesture of her hand, the anglerfish's massive bulk moved forward, eyeing Callum before it began to lead the way towards Ingens’ massive head.

With their speed, they made it to the massive scape that was Ingens's head with little issue, as Ingens was still recovering from being blinded. The anglerfish's bulb lit up, illuminating soft scales that could easily be pried to the side to allow for the burial of the Seeds.

However, the scales and the head suddenly and speedily shifted, illuminated by the light until Callum was looking directly down at the three massive eyes of Ingens.

”You really think I'm so stupid? …You mortals are all the same. Die.”

Water currents pulled at Callum and the anglerfish as Ingens opened his massive maw. It was like staring down a massive tunnel as one looked at the back of his throat. It was like staring death in the face.

And Ingens launched forward, aiming to swallow them whole.

***

Back on the surface, things weren't looking good for Raiden and Jikoryss. Jikoryss, suddenly having the whole of the fleet firing upon him, was flying widely through the air, trying to outrun the guns. Lightning filled his mouth as he prepared to deliver another blow to the Swiftsure.

Before he was blindsided by the blows of the Minstrel and the smaller fleet ships. Dazed momentarily in the air, Jikoryss took a direct hit from the Swiftsure. Smoke seeping from his wounds, Jikoryss began to fall towards the sea…

Faith, on the other hand, had dove into the water the first chance he got, avoiding the fire from the ships. Being spectral, he lacked the need to breathe, and his levitation made navigating the water almost as easy as the air.

He positioned himself beneath the Swiftsure, raised his lance, charged it… and threw it into the belly of the ship, hoping to create a gaping hole with the explosive shockwaves the lance would release upon impact.

---

Meanwhile, at the The Hathforth Castle, Present Day

_{@ERode, @Psyker Landshark}

---

It was just like any other day in the absence of the Queen at Hathforth. Merchants continued their trade in the markets. The fisheries and the port were busy as ever. Carriages moved nobles from one place to another. Commoners busied themselves with the purchase or selling of produce and household items, occassionally scoffing at the prices. Coin didn't go as far as it used to, after all. Beggars ignored kept to their corners of the world, holding tin cups for alms. Walking priests stood on their soap boxes, illuminating the attributes and blessings of the All-force. Many citizens stood attentively, nodding along to the priests.

The guards of Hathforth maintained their patrols, with barracks located at the castle. Guards were positioned at the watchtowers, looking over the farmlands surrounding the walled Hathforth. Guards also carefully watched the three gates at the north, east, and south, inspecting each merchant, farmer, and visitor that entered or left.

The military of Hathforth was set up in such a way that Hathforth was always in a position where they could respond quickly. Three forts surrounded the city - Fort Crysthanamum, Fort Fern and Fort Iris. Each held about a thousand warriors and mages. Each was about an hour's ride from the capital.

When the guards within Hathforth weren't cutting it in terms of safety to the people, the capital and the Wizard Queen, military personal were dispatched to see to it that peace was restored. The last time the military had been used was, in fact, against the Queen as she had fought to ascend the throne. Now? They busied themselves with coordinating with the captains part of the Crossguards, ensuring they were prepared for an attack from the North. Or, All-Force forbid, an attack from a neighboring city.

The royal guards were a sect of their own, patrolling the castle only, and seeing to it the safety of the nobles within were maintained. They were of a higher caliber of military, and titles would often be granted to those with noble merits. Though, the royal guards were still below the Crossguards.

That left Elysabeth as the highest authority within Hathforth at the moment, overseeing the city guards and the royal guards. At the moment, she was in the throne room. The decorations from the Hearthfire Gala had since been removed, making the throne room more of a simple, majestic place.

The throne lay empty. Even she wasn't crazy enough to sit on it without Her Majesty here. No. Instead, Elysabeth stood off to the side of the throne room, neck-deep in a conversation with a merchant that no, they could not grant him a written proclamation to acquire slaves from Nordor for his fields. Slavery had been abolished, anyway. And no, Her Majesty would not reenact slavery just because Duke Willowsteel committed treason. And no, Nordorians were not considered lesser in Hathforth legislature.

Every so often, Elysabeth's gaze would be drawn to the entrance to the throne room. She was expecting the return of Lady Safina, after all.

And nothing would mess this day up.

Unfortunately for Elysabeth, she would be left waiting until nightfall. By the time she took dinner in private, a hand would reach out while she dined, pouring wine from a carafe into the Countess's goblet.

"I see everyone has decided to take a leave of absence. Had I known, I would have taken a detour until Her Majesty's return." Safina mused, setting the carafe down and striding over to sit down in the seat next to Elysabeth's while clad in her noble guise's usual finery.

"Reporting back. Is Her Majesty afield? What is our current situation?"

What went unsaid was the pointed look Safina gave Elysabeth. Ruling a kingdom from the shadows, for however long until Evelyn or that young ponce Vulluin returned, had never been supposed to be in the cards for Safina. She led only one thing: her own people. Could Elysabeth handle things here without Safina's intervention?

Hathforth Castle, Guard Tower and Barracks, Countess Elysabeth Vernon's Chambers, Present Evening

_{@Psyker Landshark}

---

"I see everyone has decided to take a leave of absence. Had I known, I would have taken a detour until Her Majesty's return."

Elysabeth barely hid the surprise flickering behind her eyes. The leader of the Concord always lived up to her name. Indeed, even for a simple touching-base, Safina ensured it happened on her terms and in secret, in keeping with her creed.

She took a breath, forcing herself to relax. It was just Safina, not an unknown assailant. Thank goodness Safina was on the Wizard Queen's side. What a foe to contend with who could sneak up on you so skillfully!

Elysabeth swirled the freshly poured wine in her glass, her gaze settling into neutrality, maybe even the hint of a smile. Incredibly amiable, according to her standards.

”Her Majesty isn't expected for another week and a half. We would have been sore without your unmistakable presence.”

It was then Safina chose to sit, moving into the candlelight shining from the table. Her noble regalia was in contrast to Elysabeth's who hadn't yet changed out of her Royal Guard armor and its cape and pin of denoting status.

"Reporting back. Is Her Majesty afield? What is our current situation?"

Elysabeth made an affirmative hum before taking a sip of the wine. She’d have good dreams tonight, at least.

”Yes, she's afield. Her Majesty wrote by raven, it reached earlier the morning. From it, she was three days from Athius. Now, I suspect she's made it and has engaged in her ‘weapon retrieval’ mission. If we're lucky, we'll be able to tax Athuis after this.”

Elysabeth took another bite of her basted fresh catch, coupled with greens. Chewing politely and swallowing, before speaking again, leaning forward.

”We've had a… change, in the court. Court Mage Blackthorne was found guilty of treason after my men tore apart his mage's study while in his absence. Many incriminating parchments were found, old correspondence indicating he was involved in buying and selling of royal secrets… All mainly surrounding the improper use of his Society of Young Magic.

“I imagine he's been sentenced to death by now, and that sentence has passed. That young Lilim, Lady Tearmoon, will be taking over the position. I wish her well.

“I've also been made aware that Viscount and Viscountess Skybound of the Orphan's Matron will be visiting Duchess Agustria in an effort to find anything incriminating on her.”

Elysabeth was about to take another bite of her food, before she lifted her bell and gave it a soft ring. ”Here, it doesn't look good if only one of us is eating.”

A servant was within the chambers within a minute, bowing low at the edge of the table. Elysabeth nodded to the servant. ”Lady Haliel will be ordering something.”

After Safina ordered something and the servant left gracefully, Elysabeth waited a beat before asking the question that had weighed heavily on the castle all week.

”How did your mission go? How fairs Odenfield?”

Elysabeth would listen and relay back to Her Majesty via raven. However, she could also act on it, if necessary. It was true that Safina held authority over her when it came to ruling in the Queen's absence. However, it was more of an honorary position, to be taken and left at Safina's discretion. Safina did prefer to tent to her Concord, after all. And Elysabeth had been trained and disciplined well in the ways of nobles, court, and province.

"Two sirloins, pink in the center. With roast capon, and some greens." Safina ordered without a hint of shame. If there was one perk to the guise of nobility that she had no hesitation in abusing, it was access to fine food.

With that finished, she settled onto the topic of business after the maid had left.

"If Rhinecliff has liquid funds at his disposal, they weren't in any nook or cranny of his estate. We found geas-contracts. Dozens. One for each guild in Odonfield, and with several businesses in other duchies as well. It seems the good Duke has his fingers in no few pies. We took them, of course."

She reached for the wine and a spare goblet, pouring herself little more than an ounce or two at most.

"My people are holding them for now. Once we're finished here, I'll be overseeing the scrolls' transport from headquarters to the castle here. Too many for us to move them discreetly all at once."

The elf's ears twitched, and she deliberately said nothing further as the maid returned with Safina's rather large meal. A wave of her hand dismissed the girl before she tested each portion for toxins with an alchemically-treated needle. When satisfied, Safina took up fork and knife and started to set in on the platter of meat and greens, dining with impeccable table manners despite the rapid pace at which she was eating. One wondered where she put it all, considering her figure.

The winds blew northerly that day.

Blue skies promised better days, even when things seemed to only be getting worse. The marks of the dragon, of the interrupted execution, remained on people’s minds, even as they busied themselves with the pulling of the nets, the gutting of the fish, the transportation of goods off merchant vessels. Makeshift stalls crowded the paved, slippery streets, hawkers working to feed themselves off of the food they sold, while better-dressed folks had their guards push through the crowds as they reached those elusive auction houses that carried Seeds. Mundane Seeds, with nary a hint of true potency, but Seeds nonetheless, a status symbol of power and wealth.

No one knew what caused the fire. Perhaps a clumsy cook knocked over a portable stove. Perhaps a barrel of whale-oil had leaked during transportation. Perhaps an apprentice’s enchantment went horribly wrong. Perhaps a smoking hedonist had tipped the ashes in their pipe somewhere they shouldn’t have.

But there were sparks, and then there was smoke.

A cooking stall, made of wood and canvas, was set ablaze. The two workers scrambled away, rolling on the stone to put out their burning clothes, howling for help. An enterprising adventurer answered the call. This close to the waterfront, any fire could be extinguished with minimal magical effort. Seawater coalesced upon their staff, and then a jet of water was released upon the stall at the apex of the incantation!

The flames exploded in response, flaring up as the oil that it had fed upon sparked and burst when introduced to water. People screamed, clothes catching fire, skin scalded by hot oil. Stalls caught and combusted, a thick, heavy smoke rolling along avenues as the fire spread further, burnt ever hotter.

By the time the bells began to ring, the marketplace was ablaze, and the boutique stores were in danger, as that pleasant wind pushed the flames to the next district over.

---

A moment before he'd been about to shove his dagger up under one of the scales and pry it up, the massive head turned, backing away and facing him with an eye wider than he was tall—before pulling back yet further, all three eyes trained on him. Squarely on him, he was convinced; the shade-born anglerfish next to him likely didn't even come into the leviathan's consideration at all. "Well, this isn't ideal," he muttered to himself as the monster's words grated in his head. Before he felt a sudden rip current pulling at him as the beast's jaws opened.

Oh. Oh it really did eat the court mage! Don't eat me, man, I only just got this job! Why was I one of the backups to dive down here? I was taught to fight people, not these things!

He was almost surprised that he wasn't cursing or worse, though that was due as much to the fact that he couldn't force his own jaw to move as to any sort of bravery or fortitude he might have possessed. The anglerfish off to his left tried to swim away, breaking out of the current, as he floated, frozen in place at the sight of Ingens rearing back, his mind furiously trying to find any way possible to get out of the line of danger. Unfortunately for him, every last possibility his thoughts trended towards was shot down as quickly as it was imagined.

There really didn't seem to be a way out of it for him. An ignominious end to an utterly disappointing journey thus far—he couldn't even manage to move fast enough, with the ring's help, to get out of the way of the current pulling him in. He'd just have to hope he could avoid the teeth...

Wait. That might work out.

Forcing his limbs to move again, he started to try and cut his way out of the current just as Ingens lunged forwards. Jaws enveloped him quickly, water that the beast had sucked in pulling him along just past the snapping teeth. Not a problem for the leviathan, certainly—but Callum's last-second movement had carried him towards the roof of the monster's mouth. He let himself get carried back further, out of the way of any wayward pointing teeth, looking for a spot that would be good to sink a hook if anything existed large enough to fish for a leviathan—before lunging upwards, sinking his dagger into a soft part of Ingens's mouth once he could see light poking through the translucent structures again rather than hard bone.

He was dragged along a little further, the dagger opening a gash in the leviathan's mouth, but with his free hand also shoved up into the bleeding wound he managed to keep himself from disappearing entirely down the monster's throat. "Don't be like an eel, don't be like an eel," he repeated to himself, clutching onto his dagger and some loose flesh for dear life. He couldn't see anything like an eel's secondary jaws further back, but he wasn't about to let that make him too confident.

Rather, it was better to act as soon as possible. "Alright, you overgrown fish, let's see if you like this as much as the smaller ones!" With a grunt, he pulled himself up, pushing his left hand deeper into Ingens's flesh; the subjugation pearls were still clutched tightly in his palm, but he stuck two fingers out, pressing hard. "Dealanach!" While he'd never claim to be any great mage, the electric shocks he'd been able to conjure had proven their use multiple times, whether against fish or against people. While outwardly, it would likely mean nothing to the leviathan, he could only hope that the blast of electricity coming from inside the beast's own head might prove more of a threat.

_@ERode

---

The city guard was still mobilizing, gathering from all corners of Hathforth to address the flames licking up and devouring the buildings of South Pearl.

However, some in the area had managed to gather. One of the guards quickly questioned a blubbering adventurer with his staff, and assessed the screaming citizens with grease burns.

Most guards were versed in medical magic, and were quick to ease burns with golden light, and restore and mend the skin. Others began forming teams. Sections of the fire were tackled, targets selected when it was certain there were no citizens within the premises. The guards joined their magics together, forming shields of light that enclosed domes over buildings and streets, hoping to starve the fire out in sections before it got out of hand.

Of the guards that were in the area, ten were healing the wounded and evacuating the area, thirty were split in teams of five, six teams in total, to create domes over the fires. However, they couldn't possibly address all of it. More personnel were needed.

One guard superior had gathered as much information as he could, and left South Pearl, running as fast as his legs could take him to Hathforth. The Countess had to know.

---

Hathforth Castle, Guard Tower and Barracks, Countess Elysabeth Vernon's Chambers

_{@Psyker Landshark}

---

”We found geas-contracts. Dozens.”

Elysabeth's brows delicately furrowed at that, pausing with her fork hovering inches from her mouth. Geas-contracts. Soul-binding predicaments. They would have to be examined in full, carefully. Having puppets could be just as useful as having that old Duke's treasury…

"My people are holding them for now. Once we're finished here, I'll be overseeing the scrolls' transport from headquarters to the castle here. Too many for us to move them discreetly all at once.”

Elysabeth nodded, ”The Royal Vault will make a fine place for them.”

She too, lapsed into silence as Safina's food was brought, taking another bite of the tender flesh of her catch. The wine glass was pressed to her lips when she heard the ominous sounds of a tolling bell from far down below.

Her eyes widened, before she voraciously stuffed the remainder of her dinner in her cheeks, forgetting her table manners briefly, before she chewed quickly and swallowed, standing and moving to the window.

Her window had a view of the waterfront, South and North Pearl. South, of which, just happened to be coated in a thick layer of rising smoke. Elysabeth stared for a moment, before raising a forearm, and resting it against the glass. Her mind was racing behind her watchful eyes.

”Safina… both you and I know Her Majesty is away. There were reports of movement across the border. Do you think…”

Her eyes tightened, lips drawing back into a snarl. ”This… what I'm seeing before me… isn't just happenstance?”

In the next instance, there was a furious knocking at Elysabeth's door.

”Enter!” Elysabeth called, turning to face the door, her cape swishing in the sunlight.

The door opened, and the supervising guard, denoted by a fleck of gold on his shoulder armour, bowed. He was out of breath, and smelled of smoke.

”Countess Vernon, Lady Haliel. South Pearl is on fire. We don't know what caused it, but it appeared to be a grease fire, in truth. The winds are northerly, threatening to blow the fire into North Pearl. the guard on the scene are tending to the injured and attempting to suffocate parts of the fire.

What are your orders, Countess?”

Elysabeth glanced at Safina briefly, before her gaze fixed on the guard. ”Evacuate North Pearl, and subdue the fire. Use the entire guard in the city if you have to. Ensure the safety of the people and of the wealth there.

“And… ensure everyone is on their guard. Something doesn't feel right about this… Assume the worst, Supervisor.”

The guard straightened, saluting briefly, before he closed the door and raced down the hall.

Elysabeth turned to Safina. ”I think we could use some ‘protective management’ in the hidden hallways. I would ask that you and your men station yourself in front of the Vault-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. I will stand the ground here, and buy you time in the event it must be emptied. I will also ensure the safety of the royal here…”

With that, Elysabeth gave a quick, polite nod, and swept out of the room, her cape billowing behind her.

---

---

Princess Azalea was standing at her window, staring in horror at the plume of smoke crossing behind the glass. It always had to be when mother was away, didn't it? It had to be an attack, it had to be! The timing was too good. What could they possibly want? Who could they possibly be?

A knock at her door, and Azalea turned gracefully from the window, wrapped in airy silks. Her small crown felt heavy atop her head that day.

Viscount Eustice Therfield was at the door, and he gave a deep bow to the princess.

”Princess Azalea, there's been a fire at the harbour. I've been asked to guard you until the threat has passed.”

Princess Azalea raised her little hands, as if to shield herself from the unknown assailants. ”So it's true?” Her voice was soft and melodious, like a true siren despite her fear. ”They mean to attack while my mother is away?”

Eustice grimaced, unwilling to burden his own opinion on the young girl. ”It's unconfirmed. It could be just a freak accident.”

Princess Azalea pouted. ”Not even you believe that, Eustice.”

Eystice sighed. He was always a terrible liar. His head shook. ”I will be just outside your door. Lock it from your side. Do not open it for anyone, not even me now, alright?”

The Princess felt fear grip her heart, and she nodded anxiously, approaching the door. ”Alright, Eustice.”

She shut the door, and, slowly, she locked it.

---

---

---

---

The two remaining maids meanwhile brought ‘Asteria’ directly to Mirie in her study without her brother. Filing in behind their guest, they stood at the ready. The duchess was sitting at her desk, frowning for a moment when she noticed the white-haired girl was alone. Then she decided that it was probably for the better. The absence of panic in her household staff so far meant that whatever was going on with her brother was under control for the moment.

“Viscountess Asteria, a pleasure to see you again. My maids’ welcoming party was not too jarring, I hope?”

‘Asteria’ spared her ‘brother’ a glance as he was escorted away, hoping that he wouldn’t get himself into too much trouble… Especially considering that she was the one who gave him the opening to get up to mischief in the first place. She smiled prettily at the maids as she was brought to Duchess Agustria’s study and gave a perfect curtsy to Mirie once she had entered the room.

“The pleasure is all mine, Duchess Agustria.” She straightened and stepped forward so she could meet the woman’s eyes, trying to discern if the raven had gotten to her ally in time or not. “And not at all; your staff was very welcoming to my brother and me.”

Out of sight of the maids, she smiled wryly. “I hope our arrival was not a surprise for you, Your Grace. I did have a raven with a message sent ahead of time – did you receive it?” It was difficult to know if the staff was in league with Agustria or not and Nyx was not eager to give herself up until she was certain of her safety.

She'd only just finished with the capon and the first steak when the guard's alert came. Safina resisted the urge to sigh. Couldn't even enjoy a full meal before being thrown back in the thick of it. And she'd have to change her garments back, too. Should have just ate in the city, free fine dining be damned.

Safina waited for the guard to leave before rising as Elysabeth did, nodding in response to her orders.

"Understood. Stay on your guard, Countess. These seem like tactics I would use, were I in a position to subvert Hathforth. In any case, I'll go rally my people."

Thirty minutes later, those of the Concord within Hathforth assembled within one of the keeps' hidden hallways. Clad in full combat leathers and chain, Safina swept her gaze over the dozen or so assassins gathered.

"Alright, people. Seems we have competition. If they're after the vault, they're going to have more than a few surprises waiting for them. Defensive positions, every party favor we have. You all know what to do."

Resolute nods and stoic salutes followed before the assembled assassins dispersed, starting to set up traps and ambush positions. Before long, the passage leading to the Wizard-Queen's vault was a veritable killbox, traps both mundane and magical littering it, with a dozen hardened assassins waiting in ambush beside.

The guards acted quickly and decisively, containing what flames they could, but the sheer crush of the citizenry worked against them. The grease fire had been a trigger point, certainly, but there were far too many flammable objects in that open market to begin with: one certainly could not expect fresh goods to come in from the port. Dried goods burned like tinder, barrels of wine serving as accelerant soon after. And then there were perfumes mixed in, a choking stench that coated the South Pearl. The first few guards didn’t realize what was happening until their vision swam, their spells fading out as they keeled over from the sensory overload. Others were choked out by the thick smoke alone, dark clouds pluming upwards as they coughed and hacked, eyes tearing up.

The city’s bells were ringing now though, and the North Pearl’s evacuation was swift, guards focused on bringing as many merchants and workers out of that district as they could. Eastward they went, into the stone-paved roads and the well-built structures of the Gold-Touch, just in time to see the conflagration surge forwards. Had it caught onto something? Abandoned stalls and wagons caught and burst into inferno, scattering further and further. At the behest of the rich and influential, guards concentrated their efforts on preventing any eastward trespass by the blaze, but the situation in the North Pearl had spiralled out of control much faster than the South; it would take a specialized force to push into the depths now.

And then, all the illicit activity inherent to the North Pearl was brought to firelight.

A haze of drugs swirled up and outwards, pulled inland by the sea-breeze, a nonsensical cocktail of relaxants and stimulants. Perhaps it was from the hidden black markets, or perhaps from the various gambling dens and smoking parlors. No matter though, it only served to heighten the emotions and befuddle the reasoning of those exposed to it, chaos and hysteria spreading like a contagion over successive cycles of the clock.

The fire advanced northwards still. If it struck Upper Bristol, that veritable district of tents and shoddy construction, the devastation would be incomprehensible.

And yet, the drug haze pushed inwards still, towards Gold-Touch and Belleborne, those groups with too much power and not enough sense or discipline. Driven by hysteria, who knew what could happen if they began lashing out?

Duchess of Caelin

---

Grand Bank, Agustria House\\
@Estylwen, @Donut Look Now

The window stood no chance. Even without the aid of the ring, it was just regular frosted plate glass against a heavy porcelain pot. With a resounding crash, the glass completely shattered as the pot flew out the window, crashing onto the ground below, although jagged shards remained in the frame. The bathroom, conveniently enough was on the first floor so escape was possible, but Mene’s egress by self-defenestration was hindered by the tall hedges and shrubs just outside. The perimeter fence remained beyond. For a moment, there were no guards, but they would come soon from the obvious chaos.

Outside, the maids immediately reacted on hearing the noise, their muffled noises yelling through the door as one tried the lock.

“Hey!! What are you doing in there!?”

“Nothing good. Move!”

There were sounds of a brief scuffle as one shoved the other out of the way.

Then an axe crashed through the door.

--

At the same time, Mirie was still greeting ‘Asteria.’ With a wave at her staff, the two maids left the room, remaining outside as guards. With a smile, she nodded at the girl, although it was slightly strained as she mentioned her household staff. They had been instructed to remain polite but firm, but given the intrigue she had involved them in, the situation could still change at any time. It was strange that Mene did not accompany Asteria—suspicious, even, but it gave her time alone with Laurent’s pet shapeshifter.

“Yes, I did receive a message,” she confirmed, before dropping a bomb. “More than one, in fact…” The duchess picked up the note from the queen, sliding it across the desk for the disguised Nyx to briefly read before taking it back. It was the one that indicated the queen wanted the twins dead.

“Your position is compromised, and you can see my own options to protect you and Mene are limited. For the time being, I may have to keep you two here, but I have a plan.”

Then, of course, all hell broke loose.

---

Swiftsure, At Sea, Several Days Later, Afternoon\\
@Estylwen, @Irradiant

For a moment, it looked like Mirie and the countess’s coordination and effort, combined with Sir Hayworth’s sudden intervention had dispatched the ghost king’s right-hand woman. It quickly became obvious that it wouldn’t so simple to defeat the inhuman ghost as she suddenly responded in a flurry of activity. Acting on instinct, Minuette immediately opened the distance between her and Valor, though it quickly became obvious that it wasn’t that kind of attack as she was snared by cube-like magical prison. For a moment, she was caught, but acting independently, she mimicked Sir Hayworth in simply smashing through the construct with raw power.

Her eyes flicked across to Mirie, expecting but nonetheless relieved that the duchess was unharmed. Her shields had remained in place around her, the two forces clashing against each other before Mirie concentrated and expanded her defenses until the golden cube shattered. Seeing Hayworth rocket up to greet them, she nodded at him. The method of her magic made it difficult to directly communicate as he did, but her intentions were clear anyway.

This time, she readied her own sword as Minuette brought her own weapon up at the ready, fusing magical energy into her own weapon before they rushed Valor as a trio.

This particular Ravenfell threat would end here.

--

Above the surface, things had gotten better for Admiral Hamilton. He was pleased with the coordination of the fleet, forming up in the pseudo air-defense formation that he had ordered. Crisscrossing lines of fire into the air, all laced with canister shot buffeted the sky with metal shrapnel. Now that the mages had recovered, some of it was directed by magic and complimented by spellfire of their own, and it didn’t take long for the large hulking target that was Jikoryss to finally take a crippling hit.

Aboard the Swiftsure, the crew erupted into a sheer as they observed the smoldering lightning dragon plummet towards the sea.
The Admiral’s eyes were not on the falling dragon, though, but the other threat that remained in the air. His eyes tracked Faith, wondering what the man was doing, before he too plunged into the ocean. Had he been hit?

No, that descent had been too controlled, too coordinated. An escape? Rescuing the dragon? Joining the fight below? The scenarios ran through his head, but he had a bad feeling. The air battle was well in hand—the fleet, and Swiftsure was now far more vulnerable from below than anything.

“Shields!” He swiftly ordered to the commander of the mage corps. “Shields, now!”

The mages just barely had the time to reinforce the ship before a massive impact came from below, rocking the ship with a shockwave that threw everyone off their feet once more. With a massive spray of water from below, the lance had hit, the explosion throwing the ship upwards as if it had just crested a wave before the ship came smashing down again. Thrown about, the ship continued to rock, its mast tops swaying about as if it were a small sailboat in a storm.

“Damage report! I want crews below, now!” He bellowed, even as men picked themselves up and began to grab spars and canvas on instinct. Below, the hold began to flood, but Hamilton’s timely action had prevented the damage from being critical. Faith’s attack had caved in a part of the hull, but between the copper sheathing and the half-formed protective spells, it was not a truly gaping hole. Men immediately began to move in, pressing canvas against the leaks and bracing the hull with wooden spars.

Hamilton knew the ship couldn’t take too many more of those hits, but now they were more prepared. His mages would be kept busy trying to protect the ship, but the fleet was still there with their own men.

He gave the order to send another flag signal.

Grand Bank, Duchess Agustria's Estate, A Few Days Previous

_{@Click This}

---

THUD!

Mene could only stare in horror as the silver gleam of an axe wedged itself through the door. He didn't need, nor want, to stick around and find out what would happen to him if the maids got ahold of him. So, in one swift move, he launched himself out the window and straight into the shrubs. It took a moment of disengaging and thrashing through the thick leaves before he made it out to the other side.

His eyes glanced to the fence, before straying to the gallery. No, he didn't want to escape. He wanted to hide. Tearing down the gallery as fast as his little legs could carry him, he rounded to the back of the estate. He looked wildly for an open door or window, and found it. The kitchen door, left ajar to air out the smell of freshly baked bread. He dove inside and, wishing with his ring that no one at that moment at the door, he ducked down, slipping into the nearest cupboard and curling up beside a pot almost as large as him.

Then, he slowed his breathing, his heart fluttering wildly, and tried to keep as quiet as possible. He just had to wait it out until the alarms passed. If they assumed he escaped the premises, all the better. He'd then explore the estate when their guards were down.

Yes. If he had to wait all day long in this stuffy cupboard until nightfall, so be it. But he first had to survive being hidden for these next crucial moments…

---

_@ERode

---

It was utter chaos.

Arwyn watched from her perch atop the roof of the highest spire of the Hathforth Castle. South and North Pearl were on fire, burning away into utter misery. Parts of the fire were discolored, flaring bright greens and blues, indicating magical illicit substances at work.

It made Arwyn’s lips curl in a snarl. The rich and depraved. They thought not of the work the royals did night and day to improve the city, instead squandering their favours on wine and drugs.

Regardless, Arwyn had a job to do. With the only royal, Princess Keove, safely protected by the illustrious Viscount Therfield, Arwyn had a bit of flexibility in her role. Safeguarding the city was certainly in her duties, with the castle taking priority. Surely the city guard were scattered and unprepared for this cause of crisis. The fire had spread so much…

She dropped from the roof, swinging into an open window - a Raven's Perch. She scrawled a note on a bit of parchment, tied it to the foot of the nearest raven, and sent it to Fort Chrysanthemum. Hopefully, the military would arrive in about an hour.

Meanwhile, she lept from the window, falling through the air to the courtyard below. And at the near last moment, fiery wings sprouted from her back, and she soared over the courtyard walls, passing by the fires and smoke as she reached the edge of Belleborne, near the middle of Gold-Touch.

The scene was devastating. Most of the guards were moaning, prone on the cobblestone, uttering delirious nonsense. None of the domes that the guards had been trying to hold up had lasted, and the fire had only spread. The guards’ response was in shambles.

Arwyn touched down and took a step forward - only for a plume of smoke to hit her right in the face. Her oxygen was snuffed out, and the stench of concentrated perfumes and illicit drugs entered her system. She fell to her knees almost instantly, dry heaving on the ground. It bettered her fortune just slightly - there was a thin layer of clear air down by her feet. She breathed once, and casted Feathered Healing. Immediately, the red aura around her fought back the ailing effects of the drug-infused air, and she stood up straight.

She moved to the nearest dropped guard and healed him. ”Heal the rest and retreat - this is far too dangerous to handle as is. Get the civilians to safety.”

The guard nodded breathlessly and moved to heal the next fallen guard beside him. Soon, the line of city guard collected themselves and gathered along the border of Belleborne and North Pearl. As a few guards fell back to evacuate Belleborne to Aethera Meadows, most remained to create a barrier wall. Similar to the domes before, this conjoined barrier would hopefully protect Belleborne from the fire claiming it.

Meanwhile, Arwyn was on the move again, a blip in the sky, looking down at the city being consumed in unforgiving flames.

”Someone has to be controlling it… But magic on this magnitude… It's powerful. We're not dealing with some random thugs. These are… these… Couldn't be… Definitely organized.” Arwyn muttered to herself, unsure but raw with determination. There was something, someone, or perhaps someones behind this. She would stand between them and the castle, ensuring the fire wouldn't claim her Queen's home.

She dove to the ground at the edge of the Castle Gardens, standing right where the edges of South Pearl and Belleborne met. And, raising a hand in the air, she casted Feathered Rain. Instantly, tiny little fireballs in the shapes of feathers fell from the sky in a wide area. As it came in contact with the fire, she was hopeful it would absorb, douse, and calm it.

---

Battle-Blood Minstrel, Above Athius

_{@Irradiant, @The Otter, @Click This}

---

The great beast Ingens was made to heel. The moment electricity coursed through it's veins, it couldn't even scream or cry out. All motor function was lost and Ingens hung limply in the water, this massive beast immobilized by Callum's well-placed strike.

Luckily for Callum, Ingen's not-like-an-eel jaw hung open. It would allow Callum to swim out and, if Callum was fast enough, drive those pearls into Ingen's head where they belonged.

Curiously, there was a bright flash of light as a small portal opened beside Callum. Drifting into his hand, glimmering with its ghostly, semi-transparent appearance, was the christened Shade's Bane. How it ended up in Callum's grasp was anyone's guess. But what he would do with it, as the portal closed and left him with the leviathan-slaying sword-

Well, that was up to him to decide…

***

Near the surface of the water, Valor watched with wide eyes as Minuette, Duchess Agustria, and Sir Hayworth all rushed her with one goal in mind: her ultimate and untimely end.

With all her golden magic at her fingertips, not even she could create a barrier that would stop this. With all her constructed speed, she wouldn't be able to move out of the way. And with her weakened state, she had to call it what it was: her defeat.

Gritting her teeth behind her mask, her fingers snapped. The attacks, mere inches from her face, hit open water as Valor teleported away from the battle, disappearing entirely.

With the head of the Clandestine defeated in this battle, it would only be a matter of seconds for the rest to realize their compromised position, and lack of leadership, and retreat.

***

Spirit was huffing and puffing, facing the weapons and magic leveled at him from Captain Thorne, Vulluin, and John. His eyes tightened from behind his head as his breath hitched - Valor's presence was absent.

”Damn it all…” Spirit growled under his breath, taking a step back into a red clockwork portal appearing below him. He disappeared in the next moment.

The same happened under the Swiftsure. Faith stared up at the hole he'd made, clicking his tongue. It should have been three times its size, but the captain had anticipated his attack. It would take a lot more energy to make this ship ultimate sink.

It was time he didn't have. The energy, yes. But the time?

Spirit and Valor's presences were gone. That only meant one thing - they had failed. So, without much of an option, Faith snapped his fingers, and the red portal of the Symphony took him, and he disappeared.

Meanwhile, Jikoryss and Raiden were attempting to make their escape. With Jikoryss's injuries, though, they were only managing a slow swim away, hoping against hope that they wouldn't be seen…

---

---

A forlorn wind blew through the orchards, caressing the withering leaves of barren apple trees like nature's graves lining each dirt path. A chill sat in the air, heralding a terrible winter to pass in the coming months. But such worries did not plague the ghosts of Ravenfell, not for short of two decades. Anton shivered in his armour as he walked through the dead orchard, the clank of plate mingling with the rustle of fallen leaves. His bones felt weary; either from age, the cold, or a mix of both. The colours of his plume, cloak, and divided longskirt- once a royal blue trimmed with white, the colours of House Marceilles- were now faded to a dull dark shade. He looked through his visor at the tragic scene once more, and the faintest memories of better times stirred.

But recollection blurred when he remembered how he struggled. For the first month since the spectral curse took hold, Anton tended to the apple orchard all by himself. The caretaker who had looked after it originally had departed, no longer interested in the well-being of the apple crop. Anton was a skilled warrior, but a farmer he was not. Tried as he might on his own, he could not save the apple trees as they died off one by one. In the end, Anton gave up and watched as trees like memories died and faded away. The least he could do instead was make the manor house nearby a homely place.

After a short walk through the orchard, Anton came to a halt before two gravestones beneath a dead tree. From there, Anton could see all of the city and its outskirts; he could just spot the spectral figures of his people wandering the streets. He looked back at the headstones: one was slightly more worn than the other, and upon its head the name 'Celeste Agravaine' was carved. Anton bowed his head, offering a prayer to his mother. He then turned to the other headstone, upon which was carved 'Phillip Agravaine'.

Anton sighed and took a seat on the same familiar large rock next to his father's grave. He paused, holding up the White Flower on its chain around his neck. A terrible burden.
'I am to depart Ravenfell soon,' Anton spoke aloud, 'I am being sent southward to distant lands, where she plays "Wizard Queen".' He then sat as the chill breeze rippled through his thick woollen cloak, and pondered for a while. 'I know not what awaits me, but I know nothing else remains here for me. Perhaps I will finally meet my end, but either way...' Anton rose wearily to his feet with a groan, '... One day soon I will see you again, father.' He rested his gauntleted hand on the headstone, before turning to take his leave.

---

---

---

---

---

'Anton? Anton!'
Anton awoke from his daydream to Sylrael looking at him, the noise and merrymaking of the inn coming back into focus. 'Sorry. I was just thinking.'
Sylrael's lips shifted to the side for a second. 'The others want to know what our next move is,' he said, 'I am all for helping people, but the Wizard Queen surely knows of our movements by now.'

Anton took a sip of his cider, ignoring how not-as-crisp it was, as he watched people socialising near the bar. It had been several weeks since Anton and his Braves had arrived in Arrowfell. They had traveled from place to place, never lingering for too long, and helping whoever was in need. And given the absolute state of Evelyn's rule, there were many people in need. Though he was bound by oath, Anton's kindness did little for his fatigue.

'She knows,' Anton replied somewhat flippantly, 'she was always one to be in control of knowing what went on in a kingdom.'
'Which makes it even more important that we have a direction,' Sylrael stated, worry dripping into his tone.
'I've already sent a letter of introduction,' Anton replied calmly before sipping again.
'T-To the Queen...!?' Sylrael hissed.
'No, to the Duke of Rhinecliff.'

Sylrael sat back, his face relaxing, but Anton could see the cogs working behind those emerald eyes. Boisterous laughter came from another table, and patrons applauded the minstrel playing the fiddle on stage.
'You said it yourself, Sylrael,' Anton added reassuringly, 'We need a direction. There's no overthrowing a queen on our own, as romantic as that sounds. I think Laurent Rhinecliff will be a good step in the right direction; he cares for Arrowfell's people as much as I care--' Anton stopped himself for a moment and cleared his throat as he stared into the puddle of cider left in the mug. 'As much as I cared about Ravenfell.'

Sylrael mercifully did not comment on the comparison, and instead steered the topic with a low voice. 'So what's the plan, captain?'
A small smile tugged at Anton's lips as his face lifted. 'He won't just let us swing by and say hello, and I only introduced us as a "philanthropic warband".'
'Philanthropic warband...?'
'I wasn't about to say "ragtag adventurers with ties to a ghostly kingdom". Doesn't have the same snappy appeal,' Anton joked.

'Point taken. So, we prove ourselves then?'
'Exactly. I have arranged a meeting on the outskirts of Odonfield in a week's time,' Anton explained, 'I don't expect the good Duke to turn up personally. But before that meeting, we're going to steal from the Glasic Fields.'
'I always knew you had a deathwish.'
They paused as waitress took Anton's mug, and he nodded graciously. 'What's life without a little risk?'
Sylrael stood, shaking his head. 'I'll tell the others you said those exact words before I tell them the plan.'

Anton chuckled as Sylrael took his leave. When he was gone, Anton looked back longingly at the onlookers watching the minstrel perform. The cider, the music, and the liveliness were all desperate love letters to a world lost to him. He thought of Lamont, his hand reaching instinctively toward the burden at his neck. But then he curled his hand into a fist and rested his chin upon it.

My loyalty to my liege is second to my oath to the people. But what do I do if my lord no longer cares for the people?