Euryphel strained to keep his eyes open. If anyone had a good point, it might be easier to pay attention, he thought ruefully.

“...And so you see, delivering the Skai’aren to the Eldemari is the only path forward that ends well for us.”

“Gaverus...that makes no sense,” Shivin’i asserted, rebuffing the words of the eighth prince. “As the Crowned Prime pointed out earlier, handing the Skai’aren to the Eldemari is just giving her a weapon. What’s to stop her from forcing Dunai into an oath and using him to launch an offensive against us? She’d need to kill him eventually, of course, but she’d be able to use him for weeks, if not months.”

Gaverus snorted and elevated his voice. “If we give her Dunai, she won’t have any cause to attack us. She’s been a proponent of peace ever since she took power: I don’t see that changing unless she’s provoked. The Skai’aren’s continued existence is a provocation.”

“The Union’s continued existence is a provocation for Selejo,” Shivin’i shot back. “If Selejo is behind the delegation attack, nothing is off the table. The Eldemari is convinced of the Skai’aren’s ascendancy, and will only grow more desperate once the descendant approaches.”

“Princes, let not the Prime of Fives usher us down the path of no return,” Gaverus said, gesturing to the back of the hall. “Loath as I am to admit it, attacking Selejo is a death wish. If the Eldemari is truly desperate, why not use our bargaining chip to further the safety of our nation?”

“If the Eldemari wished to negotiate, then why did she attack us?” Shivin’i’s icy voice rose above the din of the chamber’s murmurs. “No, she is happy for us to bicker amongst ourselves. Meanwhile, she continues the very experiments that created the Skai’aren, waiting until she can easily destroy us in a single fell swoop-”

Euryphel raised a hand, gathering the collective’s attention. “Does nobody believe that we can win?”

The room fell silent.

Euryphel chuckled softly. “You think that just because the Eldemari and her allies have superior numbers that we’re destined to lose, to be at Selejo’s mercy. Is that right?

“Princes...there’s a reason I secured Dunai at all costs when he appeared to me. You all witnessed his duel in the tournament. He was powerful then, one-on-one. But none of you have borne witness to Dunai going all out against punishing numbers. As you know, the Skai’aren learned his practice in the Infinity Loop. There, he practiced waging a one-man war on an armed coastal city, day after day after day.”

Not to mention that when his ascendant comes, it’s going to have the power to destroy the Selejan continent. Ian had told him as much when asked in a scenario. Now that we’re back in the Union, I need to meet with him and get more details.

“Combined, Selejo and its allies have three times the practitioner firepower as we do,” General Hor’well spoke up from the other side of the table. “Do you really think one practitioner has the power to correct such an imbalance? We’re surrounded on all sides–the Skai’aren cannot defend every front at once.”

Euryphel nodded. “You’re right, he won’t be able to defend every front in person.”

“...But he won’t need to,” Diana interjected, her eyes sweeping over the table. “The Skai’aren isn’t just an osteomancer, gentlemen. He’s an animancer without parallel. What’s to prevent him from making an army of constructs?

“You all must have seen the demonstration footage when he created bone constructs to strike the Guard. If he makes a fleet of flying constructs, he’ll be able to lay waste from afar: Even the elite forces of the Eldemari have no means to defend against massive numbers of undying bone minions. And for every one of their number that falls...” Diana smiled, showing teeth. “We can devise a way for their deaths to fuel our war engine.”

Euryphel noticed her fingering her soul gem bracelet absently under the table. Ian...you seem to have made a friend.

“Diana, are you certain that Dunai can deliver on your vision?” General Hor’well asked, his single eye gazing intensely at the fourth prince.

Euryphel gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

Diana’s smile widened. “He’ll be the key to victory.”

—

Euryphel sat alone in his salon. The attached kitchen was quiet and empty, while the seating area was illuminated only by the dim light of the moon. He swirled a glass of whiskey in front of him, though hadn’t taken a sip in over half an hour.

“Things are moving so quickly,” he murmured. He set down the whiskey on a side table, then reached for his hair ornament and tugged it free. He held it up to his face, fingers tracing the smooth sapphires inlaying its surface.

“What would you do, Father?” Euryphel said softly. “You led us out of war. What advice would you have for me?”

The sapphire hair ornament glinted, but had no wisdom to offer.

Euryphel chuckled softly. “If I really wanted peace, I could just...marry her.” Distaste dripped from each word. “If the Eldemari wishes to be a hegemon...I could indulge her. Prostrate myself before her throne, her vision. Offer Ian’s head on a platter. He’d never suspect the betrayal.

“If I did all of this...I think we really could avoid war.” He turned the ornament in his hands. “Some of the others were clearly thinking it in the meeting. For all that they hate Selejo...they can see the turning tide.”

Euryphel sighed. “I’m staking my life on this victory, Father. I hope you’d approve. I hope you don’t just think I’m being selfish, that I want the SPU for myself like a possessive tyrant. I see so much potential in our nation: I won’t let a despot jeopardize our freedom and creativity.”

Euryphel tilted his head and placed the hair ornament back in his hair. “You always told me that history smiled upon the victors.” He grabbed the glass of whiskey and did a toast to an invisible companion. “May we be victorious.”

—

Ian sat down in Euryphel’s office, the serious location an uncharacteristic meeting spot for the two of them. He noted the sigils inscribed across the crowned molding bordering the ceiling. Perhaps we’re meeting here for the room’s heightened security.

The door opened and Euryphel walked in, his visage pallid. Seems like Mother was right: he’s been worked to the bone since yesterday. Ian wondered if the prince had gotten any sleep or if he was still running off of day-old fumes.

“Thanks for meeting here, Ian,” the prince began, settling into his chair. “It’s certainly a stuffier meeting place than usual.”

“I don’t mind,” Ian replied. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Our future.”

Ian grinned. “Can you give me something more specific?”

Euryphel groaned and leaned back in his seat, a hand held over his mouth, his gaze inscrutable. “The Council of Princes, the Congress, and the generals have all agreed to war.”

Ian nodded his head absently. War. He heard the prince’s words, but had difficulty processing them. We’re going to war.

“Do you understand what this is going to mean?”

“I already agreed that I’d help you however I can, but I’m only one person.” Ian scoffed in self-deprecation. “Faced with a full-blown war, rather than the kind of stealth job we discussed before...I feel so...small.”

“It’s interesting you say that,” Euryphel replied. “You’re going to be the cornerstone of our strategy.”

Ian stared at him, expression blank. “Excuse me?”

“Our first target is Godora. The Eldemari suspects too much; we won’t be able to sneak attack the Selejan mainland as we originally planned. We can, however, attack Selejo’s strategic allies. Seeing that you’re quite familiar with Godora already, it seems like the most expedient option.”

Euryphel waited for a solid half minute while Ian considered his words.

“I know this is a lot.”

“It is a lot,” Ian affirmed, snorting. “Y’jeni, this is really happening.”

“Our first strike on Godora is going to come in a week. I need you to appear before the high war council for our strategic discussions. People are going to ask if it’s possible for you to do certain things. I’m going to need you to answer willingly and honestly, no matter what is asked of you.”

He gave the prince a sharp nod, his heart hammering in his chest.

Euryphel sighed and stretched a hand across the desk, reaching for Ian’s forearm. He squeezed, then said, “If you wish to refuse, there’s nothing we can do to force your hand.”

“How could I refuse?” Ian muttered, his tone bitter. “We’ve already been over this. I said that I wouldn’t abandon the SPU, and I intend to abide by my word. Besides, my hands are far from clean.”

Euryphel’s expression twisted into a grimace. “I am sorry about what happened on the way over. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to take someone’s life, even the life of an assassin.”

Ian shook his head.

Euryphel’s brow furrowed; Ian suspected he was probing for information in his scenarios.

Ian sighed. “Eury...”

The prince interrupted him with a motion of his hand, expression dour. “You can’t really think you killed millions of real people in the loop?”

“If you’re already running scenarios, you should know my answer.”

“They’re simulations in a dilation chamber,” Euryphel retorted. “How could they be real?”

I also find it difficult to comprehend, Ian thought. But Achemiss’ words regarding people’s ignorance still haunt me: Unaware, we may be doing the unthinkable.

“Can we proceed with the plan for Godora?” Ian said, voice cutting through the office.

Euryphel recoiled, his lips curving downwards. “There’s going to be a war council tonight at 8 pm.”

“I’ll be there.”

—

Euryphel came to pick him up fifteen minutes before the council meeting. The prince opened the door to find Ian’s eyes fixed upon a projection taking up his entire bedroom wall.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Ian turned to greet him. “It’s a map of public opinion that Germaine put together.”

Euryphel nodded slowly. He’d tasked a few teams of Beginning practitioners to scour the media, but had yet to see their findings.

If I had a single spare moment...the prince thought, fixing a smile on his face. “Are you ready to go?”

Ian exhaled and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Euryphel could discern a thread of resolve that hadn’t been present earlier.

“I’m ready. ”

Euryphel smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He motioned for Ian to come to the door. When he opened it again, the doorway now led into a dark hallway lit by white undying flames.

“We’re underground?” Ian murmured, placing a hand on the wall. “There’s nobody nearby.”

The prince strode forward, his feet landing softly on the gray stone ground. “What good is a palace without a dungeon?”

Ian snorted. “Like I said, there’s nobody here, prisoners or otherwise.”

Euryphel turned back and grinned. “You’re no fun. This place used to be a dungeon at the beginning of the last war. It’s long since been converted to other purposes.”

The prince noticed Ian frown as they walked further down the hall, the pair passing by rows of enumerated doors.

“Is this where the captives from our voyage ended up?” Ian asked.

Can he sense them from here? “Possibly. They might’ve arrived earlier in the day.”

“What’s going to happen to them?”

Euryphel shrugged. “It depends on the captives themselves.” Most likely they’ll be stripped of all the information they have, then discarded like refuse. Torture was a touchy subject, one that he wasn’t at leisure to openly discuss. While he could certainly inform his personal retainer, the prince figured that Ian wouldn’t appreciate such a dispiriting description of outcomes.

Not that he’s an idiot, Euryphel thought. He’s seen the worst that humanity has to offer. When Ian was still investigating the source of ginger in the loop, he had a rude introduction to Menocht Bay’s underworld. Euryphel hadn’t had much time to watch every section of the loop recording in detail, but he’d seen the world through Ian’s eyes, the pitiful workers–slaves in all but name–corralled into sweatshops to produce drugs.

He’d seen Ian end their misery as they all went insane. He’d also seen Ian end the lives of their criminal overlords in creative displays of fury.

But that fury went away in time, Euryphel noted. To be replaced by placid indifference. Even after killing his first real man, Ian seemed unaffected. Euryphel wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting.

I thought that just because Ian is broken, killing someone would reopen his wounds, make him more raw, more vulnerable...more like myself. But perhaps it has nothing to do with brokenness...perhaps I was simply weak for letting O’osta’s death nearly ruin me.

“I’m surprised we’re walking for so long,” Ian murmured, sticking his hand through a white-flamed brazier.

“The underground lies mostly beyond the palace’s void array,” Euryphel explained. “The doorway we used was one of the last accessible entry points.”

Ian frowned. “Does the underground predate Ichormai’s construction?”

Euryphel gave him a small grin. “There were several reasons my ancestors chose this place to be their new capital city.”

“Not just for the baths?” Ian deadpanned.

Euryphel snorted a laugh. “I did tell you that, didn’t I?”

“On our tour of Zukal’iss.”

“Well, it’s not false. But a key reason why we chose this place was this underground bunker, its passageways crisscrossing the surrounding rock.”

They walked only a bit further before arriving at the door where the war council was convening. As Euryphel placed a hand upon the door, he comforted himself by thinking of the escape routes nearby, each funneling from the main hallway into the rock and eventually extending out under water. He even ran through a scenario to ensure that the nearest passage would open and that its length was unblocked.

Everything’s in order. He opened the door out onto the half-empty room. Ezenti and Ko’la sat in chairs on opposite sides of the circular table, while Diana and Shivin’i took seats between them. As the minor seven weren’t invited, all primes were now in attendance.

“Where’s the secretary of war?” Euryphel asked. “And General Hor’well?”

“They’re coming from another meeting in the inner palace,” Shivin’i offered. “Congress has spent the past few hours debating the war budget. They’ve been held up by concerns over privacy sigils needing to be refreshed, but they should be here soon, I imagine.”

While a closed session of Congress to work out the war budget is unavoidable, the Eldemari is going to know that we’re beginning to militarize. What she won’t expect is for us to strike like lightning and burn like a wildfire.

Euryphel settled into his seat at the head of the table and gestured for Ian to take the seat next to him on the right. The prince remained quiet until everyone was assembled, his mind working through different campaign strategies.

Finally the secretary of war and his chosen few swept in, followed by General Hor’well, General Milfins, General Var’dun’a, and each of their two chosen subordinates.

They all bowed their heads as they entered and took their seats. When the room fell silent, the newly-appointed secretary of war, Pyramin Iffis, inclined his head deeply, his scar flashing in the light of the torches that continued from the hallway into the war room.

Thankfully they’re heatless, or we’d be sweltering, Euryphel thought.

“Apologies for being tardy, Prime. There’s no valid excuse for our absence.”

Euryphel waved him off. “Very well then.” He held up a gavel in his hand and tapped it down gently. “I call the high war council to order.”