The Margrave leaned back in his chair at the dining table, staring at his now-empty platter of food. He tapped one foot on the ground, glancing towards the door. Argrave had still yet to return.
Reinhardt’s old friend, Duke Enrico, had been entirely right from the beginning. Having a motive other than mere rebellion would be good for the rebellion, upsetting though it might be. The Margrave did not wish to play the kingmaker. He merely wished to do what was right.
But part of doing what was right was accepting the tragic realities of the world—few people, least of all the nobles beneath the heel of Vasquer, acted with righteous intentions. For all intents and purposes, Argrave doused their flames of ambition. He would be Reinhardt’s claimant, and with an undisputed figure, the opportunists’ influence would be mitigated after the war ended.
From all that he’d talked about with Argrave, he’d come to know the man better. He was far closer in character to someone like Enrico than Reinhardt himself. The Duke of Mateth had transformed his seat into a bastion of wealth. Reinhardt was a man of war. He would win the conflict, but in the wake of a devastating war, the realm did not someone like himself on the throne—the realm needed someone to rebuild it.
Of course, as a bastard, Argrave’s education might be lacking… but character and will were paramount, by Reinhardt’s estimation. Provided the relationship lasted, his choice of partner might prove problematic for realm stability… but then again, Enrico had told Reinhardt that Argrave had some sort of close relationship with the tribe of snow elves, and the woman herself seemed quite keen.
Each issue had its counterpoint. With the situation as miserable as it was, it was a wonder anyone like Argrave existed. Above all, no better alternative existed.
Margrave Reinhardt found comfort in the fact that the founder of House Vasquer, the leader of the legion of ten thousand snakes, had been known as deceptive, even dishonorable. But the first Vasquer cared about the people, and he built the longest-lasting human kingdom in the known world. Margrave Reinhardt would be happy to replicate even half of that.
Reinhardt heard steel clanging up the hallway and refocused back on the doorway. One of his knights entered, breathing a little heavily.
“My lord… there’s trouble,” he said quickly. “Your wyvern. It’s…”
The Margrave leaned forward, placing one hand on the table. “What?”
“In the skies,” the knight finished.
Reinhardt’s eyes danced for a few seconds, stunned. When he gathered himself, the Margrave stood quickly enough to cast his chair to the ground. He wiped his hands with a cloth, and then stepped around the table.
“Stay here with Rose,” the Margrave directed, already half-running.
The Margrave wound through the complex keep of stone that was the Lionsun Castle. The dining hall was near the center of the massive fortress, and so it took a great deal of time to reach the outside. Eventually, the Margrave ran to a balcony overlooked the Lionsun Wall, glancing about the skies. Just as his knight had said, his wyvern was flying about the sky, controlled by a masterful rider. Reinhardt watched for half a second, teeth clenched tightly.
“The tribal,” he finally realized, sprinting away from the balcony.
The Margrave ran through his keep until he eventually set foot on the great Lionsun Wall. His men were not undisciplined, and a great many of them had gathered. Though many were mages, they were hesitant to attack the Margrave’s personal property.
Reinhardt spotted one of his commanders and strutted to him. “How did this happen?”
“The men were eating, sir,” the commander explained deferentially.
“How did the tribal get to where he was? I assigned guards to them at all times,” Reinhardt demanded.
“He entered the privy… and then he was there,” the commander shook his head, watching the sky. “Some people think he climbed out of the window, along the mountainside.”
The Margrave glanced around at everyone. “Keep watch for Argrave and the others. Give them no opportunity. This is the only place they can be reasonably picked up—ensure it is watched,” he directed.
Just as the Margrave gave that order, the wyvern changed its course in the sky. It headed for the apartments in the central keep. Reinhardt stepped away and entered there, sprinting through the stone hallways while looking out of balconies to follow its movements.
Eventually, he burst into Rose’s room, which was empty… save Argrave and his companions. The wyvern landed and dug its claws into the wall, holding its neck inside the room.
“What in the gods’ name are you doing?!” the Margrave shouted. Behind, Margrave heard some knights pursuing him, ready to aid.
Galamon already stood opposite the Margrave, protecting them as they loaded their things atop the wyvern. Argrave helped Anneliese up and cast glances back to the Margrave.
“I told you I had to go! Told you it was urgent!” he shouted out.
“And this is your solution?!” Reinhardt stepped closer.
“I’ll get your lizard friend back to you by tomorrow! Probably,” Argrave shouted again.
Margrave Reinhardt stepped closer, but suddenly, mist in the room coalesced into lifelike elven warriors. Reinhardt darted backwards, surprised. It gave Argrave enough time to climb aback the wyvern himself, and then Galamon followed shortly after. Argrave’s four foxlike pets scampered across the room, then jumped up just after him.
Just like that, the wyvern pushed off, beating its great wings to gain altitude. The Margrave stepped to the balcony and whistled, but his beast ignored his command—it never had before, so the Margrave stared, shocked by the whole situation.
The Margrave stood there, staring, for a long while. Eventually, a voice broke his thoughts.
“…Margrave,” the voice came, finally breaking his focus. “Are you alright?”
“The third time..!” he began, fist clenched, but collected himself. “I’m fine,” he waved his hand, cradling his forehead.
“…we found this in Argrave’s room, sir. I don’t feel comfortable holding it. Too rich for my blood.”
The Margrave turned his head, where he received a letter alongside five rose gold magic coins.
The letter was hastily written, and read, Payment for horse, wall, and travel fare. Wyvern back by tomorrow.
#####
“I might choke you if you weren’t flying this damned thing,” Argrave shouted above the wind. “We’re headed that way,” he pointed, looking down at the old compass Titus had given him.
“Did you see his face?” Durran giggled, then erupted into laughter. “Gods, what a rush. I climbed out the privy’s window—it was about ten feet up—and then scaled along the damned mountain wall, glaive tied to my back. The wyvern was a bit fussy, but I used some of that newfound druidic magic to calm it and ride it into glory. Absolutely brilliant, I am.”
“You shouldn’t have done it at all!” Argrave yelled back.
“Good gods, don’t yell into my ear,” he brushed off Argrave’s comments easily. “It worked out, didn’t it? We’re free, we’re out and gone. No one died, not a one. I waited until dinnertime so the guard would be occupied. It was a perfect little theft.”
Argrave mulled that over and cast a glance back at Anneliese. “If you had brought it up, discussed it with us, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he admonished. “Say we didn’t notice—what was your plan? Fly about until we were captured, then fly away into the distance?”
“I knew you’d notice,” he said as though it was obvious. “Anneliese would catch on to my lies, she’d send her little Starsparrow out to find out what I was doing, and then you’d speedily get our things,” Durran summarized. “Everything worked as I thought it might. Besides, I only decided to do it after I heard the Margrave pussyfooting about as he was. He clearly wasn’t budging.”
“And yet after you left, he did just that!” Argrave shouted in irritation, causing Durran to cup his ears once again. He scrambled to grab the reins.
“It’s done,” Durran concluded. “Too late to go back.”
“We shouldn’t have to go back,” Argrave shook his head. “And now, I’ll never hear whatever it was he was going to say. Fly, you fool.”
This can’t be without consequence, Argrave knew at once. I have to talk with Anneliese, work something out. And if that doesn't work... cut your losses, Argrave.
The whole experience left a sour taste in his mouth, like the sour experience it was.
#####
Argrave watched the landmarks they passed by, leading Durran towards Jast. It wasn’t long until the city, with its titanic towers of black stone, came into sight. Argrave did not dare become known as the rider of the wyvern, and so he directed Durran to a secluded portion far removed from civilization before they dismounted. Once it was released from the relatively light hold of Durran’s druidic magic, it flew away back towards its home like a carrier pigeon.
Though it was a long walk to Jast—and made longer by Argrave’s refusal to deviate from his ritual of watching the suns set with Anneliese—they made it at around midnight. The same as last time, Argrave didn’t plan on using official channels. Argrave got in touch with the same men who had smuggled him in once before. Things went smoothly.
“You know smugglers?” Durran questioned as they sat there waiting.
“Yeah,” Argrave nodded. “Some loose ends that need to be tied up here. Elaine of Vyrbell—I had some business dealings with her. I entrusted her with some enchanted relics, had her appraise them. Moreover, she’s the primary point of contact between me and the Veidimen. Hopefully… I can replace Galamon’s axe. That’s wishful thinking, though.”
“A lady runs a smuggling ring?” Durran raised a brow. “That’s a lady I’d like to meet.”
“Her brother runs this vast criminal enterprise in Jast, actually. Rivien.”
Durran looked around. “Hell of a place, Vasquer. So many new things. So exciting,” he said eagerly.
“Keep your tattoos hidden, if you would—it was pointless to wear them in the Burnt Desert because the three of us stuck out enough as was, but we’ll need to don our Circlets of Disguise once again,” Argrave shook his head, then explained to Durran, “They’ll muddle the features with illusion magic, keep us away from the public… if not the magic… eye.”
#####
Unlike the first time they’d entered Jast, they were given VIP smuggling treatment—whatever that’s worth. The four of them were allowed to keep their things, and instead of being led to an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Jast, they were led directly into the Vyrbell estate. Argrave felt like he was moving up in the world.
A gruff looking man looked suitably out of place as he opened a fancy door within the elaborate mansion of silver, dark wood, and marble. Argrave strutted inside first. Perhaps the guards were better directed, or perhaps Argrave was remembered, because his companions were not stopped at the door as they had been on his last visit to the Vyrbell estate.
Argrave had thought leaving the Lionsun Castle might give him some reprieve from red hair, but instead, he saw it once again—this time, in the form of siblings. They might be mistaken for Parbons were their eyes not bright green. Rivien of Vyrbell sat at the head of the table, as finely dressed and fierce eyed as ever. Elaine sat slightly ahead and beside him, one leg crossed over the other. She dressed finely, too; unusual, considering she usually wore the simple gray robes of the Order of the Gray Owl. Argrave didn’t want to presume why she had done such a thing… but the dress was very flattering on her.
“I dislike being woken this late in the night very much, you—” Elaine paused when her eyes fell on Argrave’s face.
“You don’t look disheveled enough to have been woken up. And smuggling is a late-night business,” Argrave greeted. “Elaine. Rivien. Been a while. I have a new addition—Durran,” he gestured towards the former tribal, who stood there silently with a smile on his face.
“Argrave?” Elaine asked, genuinely questioning if it was him.
“Yes, it’s me. Would this help?” he covered his eyes with his hand.
Rivien placed his arms on the table, ignoring Argrave’s change. “It is nice to see you again. We took you for dead. Not a word of you for months.”
Argrave clasped his hands together. “Yes, well, if I don’t wish to be found, no one will find me, not even the Bat—you can tell the Bat that, both of you.”
Elaine uncrossed her legs and shifted in her chair. Anneliese scrutinized her expression closely.
Rivien gave a smile. “I will tell him,” he confirmed.
“I assume you’re here to check in on our business?” Elaine questioned, leaning forward on the table.
“Among other things,” Argrave nodded.
“What ‘other things?’” Rivien inquired curiously.
Argrave shrugged. “Same reason as many, I suspect. You want some investment advice? People trying to combat disease with magic—that’s about to go big, and soon,” he snapped. “I might get into the biz myself, but I have other things in mind for my money. For starters… paying you. I’d like the same arrangement as last time… for a week, this time.”
“Protection from my men for you, your companions, and your property, while you do business in Jast?” Rivien sought to confirm, leaning on his elbows resting atop the table.
Argrave spread his arms out. “Precisely. Saved me the words.”
“We’ll allow you to stay here,” Rivien suggested.
“Saved me a walk, too,” Argrave raised a brow. “Maybe I left a better impression than I thought.”
Elaine placed her pale hands on the table. “It will be easier,” she posited. “We have business, you and I.”
“More than you might think,” Argrave nodded. “I hope you still have the Veidimen’s ear.”
