A window jerked open quietly on the second floor of an inn, and then someone slid into the room: a man armored in black. Someone else occupying the room sat up anxiously at the sudden entrance yet let out a sigh of relief when she laid eyes on the person. She threw off her sheets and rose to her feet.
“You’re supposed to look out windows, and walk out doors, Ganbaatar. When will you do things normally?” she said, wreathing herself in the discarded sheets.
Ganbaatar stumbled a little, coming to lean up against the wall. “When the term ‘normal’ applies to me.”
As he slouched down and pulled off his boot, the woman stepped up to him with brows furrowed in concern. In the light, one could see her blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. She knelt down just as she wrenched his boot off. One of his toes had been completely crushed.
“You searched the vampire out, didn’t you?” she said, voice sharp as a whip.
“I found him, actually. He had white irises—the eye was as helpful as ever,” Ganbaatar countered with a pained voice, pulling off the black wrappings around his head to reveal his golden-thread hair and elven ears. “He was alone. I took my chances.”
“And lost, from what I see,” the woman knelt down.
“Svetlana…” Ganbaatar trailed off. “I surprised him. I took him off guard. Even despite that… I only barely avoided death thrice. Now… now he knows.”
Svetlana held her hand out, a magic matrix swirling before her hand. Slowly, his crushed toe began to regain some of its structure. Once it was done, she lowered her hand. “Had I come with you, this would not have happened. Had you allowed me to help, this would not have happened.”
Ganbaatar flexed his toes, then rebutted, “You don’t know these fiends as I do. I left the sacred forests of my people to hunt them down. The glass eye—”
“I wish you’d never found the damn thing,” Svetlana shook her head and rose to her feet. “The past two months since you’ve gotten it, all you’ve done is seek out those it displays.”
Ganbaatar looked away. “I won’t ask you to continue on if you don’t want to.”
“All I wish is for there to be a reason you brought me along, Ganbaatar,” she said, blue eyes fixing on his own. “My aunt is a Magister of the Order of the Gray Owl, and I heard tell that she’s here, visiting with Margrave Ivan. What’s more, vampirism is illegal within all the cities of Vasquer. You need not go about this alone.”
“But I—”
“Could you beat him?” Svetlana interrupted. “You surprised him, and yet you lost.”
Ganbaatar seemed to debate that internally. “No. I don’t think I could, especially not if he’s alert, now.”
“Is he recognizable? Any distinguishing features?” Svetlana pressed.
Ganbaatar laughed. “It’s harder to forget him. A great hulk of a man, taller than me by two heads. He had elven ears… though he could not be of pure elven blood. Perhaps he is one of the offshoots, those born outside the sacred forest…”
“Then we go to my aunt. Failing that, we seek out the margrave,” Svetlana declared.
“Innocent people may die,” Ganbaatar disagreed. “We cannot involve the uninvolved: this is the first principle taught in the Sunscourge Monastery. This vampire is not an active threat—I saw him feed. He knocked a man unconscious and drained him of some blood, then let him be. To involve others would be to guarantee deaths. I cannot say I saw the extent of his abilities.”
Svetlana lightly pressed her foot against Ganbaatar’s recently healed toe, and he winced.
“You’d just as soon die on the streets?” she said pointedly. “You ambushed him, yet you came away wounded. Was he as badly affected?”
Ganbaatar rubbed at his toe, no response coming to his mind.
#####
Argrave and Anneliese left from the inn they were staying at with Vasilisa as quietly as they could manage. Both moved with great haste towards the distant ferry on the edge of the island, eager to see if the Magisters had heeded the vague letter. As they approached, they saw the seaside docking house had no lights on at so late an hour.
“Do you think…”
Argrave turned to where he thought Anneliese would be standing beside him. Instead, a great dragon’s maw lunged out towards him, roaring. Every muscle in his body surged to action, and he triggered the Blessing of Supersession. Before he could conjure a ward to block the attack, though, the dragon’s teeth met him…
Yet nothing else happened.
As the illusory dragon’s head scattered into nothingness, Argrave realized belatedly what had just occurred. He took deep breaths to calm himself, then looked towards where he heard laughter over the beating of his heart.
Hegazar sat atop the docking house, his legs dangling precariously as he laughed. Vera smiled at the scene, but she wasn’t quite laughing as hard. Instead… there was some caution in her eyes. Slowly, Hegazar came to regard Argrave much the same.
“What a perplexing sight,” Hegazar noted as he stared down Argrave. “I thought to question why exactly the great and mighty king might be out here in this dreadfully cold wasteland, his hair having gone white… yet now I find a more urgent question on the tip of my tongue: why does His Majesty possess such a terrifyingly large pool of magic?” he used a respectful address, but the words seemed to have a different intonation on his tongue that lent it none.
“It’s no illusion?” Vera asked, a question Hegazar answered with a simple nod.
“Nice to see you, too,” Argrave called out. His eyes darted about as he looked for Anneliese. Once he found her, he relaxed somewhat. She was just as off-kilter as he was, likely having been hit by Hegazar’s illusion in the same fashion.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Hegazar asked, leading the conversation. “When we passed by, it seemed like the stage was set for you to head to war… yet you’re here? You seem rather out of your element…”
Argrave looked to Anneliese, silently communicating her analysis of their disposition. She gave him a nod—that was answer enough. They weren’t hostile.
“Let’s talk,” Argrave called out. “It’s quite a long story.”
#####
“You really have some… get up and go, eh? Not a fan of letting others do your work for you, Your Majesty?” Hegazar remarked of their story.
They sat on the sandy coast just outside the ferry in a small circle, the two like a smaller mirror of them. As though to demonstrate a point they wished to make, Vera sat on Hegazar’s lap, wrapped in his arms—evidently, something had brought them back together. Argrave wasn’t exactly sure how long that would last. And frankly… it did make him a bit uncomfortable. He didn’t like their unity.
“Well…” Argrave grabbed both of his knees, rocking slightly. “Things needed to be done. And there was something worth getting out here. I certainly feel of much better use—things are starting to come together. I think I know why you’re out here. You came to speak to Magister Ivan about spreading word of Gerechtigkeit, right?”
“Hmm…” Hegazar said, staring him down. “I don’t like admitting you’re right.”
“But you are,” Vera answered for him. “Let’s get down to business. You asked us to meet you here. I trust it’s for a reason, yes?”
“It is,” Argrave admitted. “You see this thing over my head?” he pulled at his ‘hair,’ which was in actuality the wig of white hair he’d donned to feign being a snow elf. “My hair hasn’t gone white. I’m wearing this for a little deception of mine. And it’s my hope that you can play along.”
“With what?” Vera pressed, and Hegazar nodded in agreement of her question.
“As you might expect, I don’t walk around here calling myself ‘king,’” Argrave said, placing his hand in the sandy banks. “The people here don’t know what I look like. The Magister I’m travelling with… she definitely doesn’t. I’m working something to make this city—and in time, most of the north—supportive of Vasquer. If I have your cooperation, this can be greatly facilitated. I was hoping the two of you would be amenable to the idea, given that you’ve been persuaded of Gerechtigkeit’s existence.”
Hegazar scoffed, “Persuaded? The old man beamed knowledge into our mind with some strange stone disc. Practically locked us all inside until we were brainwashed—no ‘persuading’ done at all. Maybe that’s why Traugott went off the deep end.” The bald man raised his brow. “And I’m told you were the one to give the old man his lead to that disc. That doesn’t matter, not for now. What exactly is it you hope to achieve here?”
Argrave bit his lip, deliberating. “The one thing my faction lacks is spellcasters. The north remains staunchly undecided. The former Quadreign crownlands have an abundance of magic users—magic users that can be swayed and brought to the war. That was my intent,” he decided to disclose plainly.
“Then let’s lay it out,” Vera said. “Hegazar’s already told me of the great favor you owe him… to speak nothing of what I believe you owe me,” she said, her orange eyes common in House Jast seeming rather fearsome in the moonlight. “Isn’t that right, Hegazar?”
“It is,” he agreed casually, smiling.
“But… the two of us put our grievances to bed,” she said as she gripped Hegazar’s leg. “And there is quite a pressing matter to deal with: namely, the nightmare we are all aware looms on the horizon.”
“I’m glad of that,” Argrave said honestly. “Not the nightmare part, but the cooperating part.”
“Cooperation is paramount. I think Vera and I both agree that we shouldn’t do something so foolish as fishing in troubled waters… right, dear?” Hegazar looked down at Vera, and she nodded back at him. “Right. I don’t know what came over Traugott, but I much like living. Given the breadth of your knowledge and Castro’s predestined support, we can offer support.”
Argrave raised a brow. “Just like that?”
“No. You’re going to make a few promises to us. You’re going to sign them with your magic signature, so we at least have a document offering proof,” Vera shook her head. “We’ll help you win. We’ll help you build up your kingdom. But given our situation… I think it’s best we leverage a future. For the both of us.”
“Maybe a city. Or two?” Hegazar looked down at Vera, and she nodded with a smile.
“Maybe three,” Vera continued. “Or four. A nice, even number. Archduchess Vera, Archduke Hegazar… it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Once the war is over, of course.”
Argrave remained silent, looking between the two of them. They were right—they had great leverage in this scenario. Even still… was he content to let things go their way?
“How about one?” Argrave proposed, and their faces hardened. “How about Dirracha?”
Hegazar frowned. “The… capital? What?”
“I’m serious,” Argrave nodded. “How would you like to own the former crownlands?”
Vera looked up at Hegazar, then jerked back to Argrave. “You’re not… planning something, are you? Is the city going to be crushed by a meteor in the near future?”
“Of course not,” Argrave replied, offended. “I just don’t plan on keeping it as the capital.”
“What, will you move to Relize?” Hegazar questioned. “Did the frilly clothes and feathered hats rub off on you?”
“Hardly a fitting place, considering their insistence on independence,” Argrave shook his head. “Once Gerechtigkeit comes, the wealth of a region won’t matter. It’ll be a desperate struggle to survive. I have a more defensible location in mind.”
“Hmm…” Hegazar let out a noise of discontent deliberation. “I don’t like letting him decide things,” he muttered to Vera.
“Even still… to gain the capital?” Vera muttered back.
Argrave sat in the sand, waiting for them to decide on things.
“I suppose… it would be a fitting seat,” Vera begrudgingly admitted.
“But once this journey of yours is done, you need to announce us as the owners immediately,” Hegazar added.
“That’ll lower my legitimacy some… but sure, done,” Argrave agreed. “We’re in agreement? Your help in exchange for the capital?”
Hegazar seemed to squirm. “No. I don’t know. Yes?” his answer changed quickly. “Fine. It seems… fair. And that’s why it’s hard to take from you. You agree, dear?”
“I… do,” Vera agreed, hesitating a beat.
“Then, shall we get to work on the north?” Argrave picked up sand, letting it fall between his fingers.
