Chapter 25: To Kill a King

Arcane let the wind blow through her hair and dress as she looked into the falling sun. She imagined it to be carrying the ominous scent of war, a harbinger of the conflict to come two days hence. The crimson sunset that illuminated the sky she saw as blood, heralding death to approach the peaceful kingdom that would soon be overturned. Below, she heard the clatter of stone armored guards boiling out of the castle, their spears held at ready and their faces hard. Ears laid back, they marched out into the streets of the capital and carried the news to those the royal princess had felt needed to know, gathering nobles, advisors, and soldiers to her cause. The bustle of the evening taverns quieted, every elfbeast beginning to feel the approaching storm.

As the sunlight faded, the cyan haired girl atop the tallest tower leapt down, her dress billowing with the speed of her fall as she kicked off the side of the tower and almost ran down the steep castle walls. A kick to the side, and she shot through the air to another tower, letting herself glide down this one’s wall before repeating the process. She avoided the castle proper, descending from the tallest tower at its heart to the shortest at its edge in a matter of moments. From there she dropped the remaining dozen meters to the ground.

Gracefully touching down with the tip of her toe, Arcane let herself fall into a walking gait without pausing. Smoothly transitioning from rapid fall to a steady horizontal glide, she left the castle grounds without a backwards glance at the guards and moved towards the outskirts of the town. A few minutes later, she had reached the hilltop overlooking the rose city where she had left Jasmina and Coleus several days ago.

Once there, she paused and looked back at the kingdom. Her mind’s eye traced the possible paths she could take: forwards, to the camp of the Black Prince, or returning to the castle and awaiting him there. She thought about it for half a second, then turned and looked forwards through the trees towards the distant camp. Sighing, she shook her head and sat down on the starlit hilltop beneath the moonless sky.

It would be simpler, to be sure, if she were to advance towards the Black Prince’s camp and demand the information she desired from him there. Further, she knew full well that she could exterminate the Prince and his army, perhaps saving hundreds of lives. If she did not act now, if she simply allowed the Prince to come to her, many would suffer and the world would experience unprecedented war. The Rose Kingdom, in its current state, could not resist the Prince if he sought to conquer it by force, and Annabelle would not evade him long. But the other eastern nations would not suffer such a neighbor. They would expend all their power to expel the Prince, and it was likely many of the western nations would not like to see him meteoric rise in power either. A true world war could break out if that was left unchecked.

Knowing all of that, Arcane stayed her hand. Looking through the woods towards the black tents, she sighed and clicked her tongue, before opening her mouth and talking softly to herself alone.

“To come here, even knowing all the consequences that will bring… How terrible those sins, of greed and pride.” She muttered. “And yet, how completely expected.”

She shook her head, crossing her legs and turning her back on the distant camp, looking once more over the quieting town below. “How completely expected… over and over again, time after time. Even so… even so. I will wait. Surprise me, Black Prince, Rose Princess. Set aside this hostility, do not engage in the battle that will force this world to war. Show me that perhaps the cycle need not be repeated infinitely.” Arcane pleaded to two figures who could not hear her, her sealed eyes twitching slightly. “Haa…” She sighed. “It will not occur, unfortunately. So…”

Arcane rose to her feet, glancing over her shoulder before returning to the city. “The wheel of time will turn ever onwards, down the path of fate it has worn for endless millions of years. What once was, will be again, over and over.” She sighed, shaking her head at the city below.

A few flickering lights moved about the Rose city, like tiny stars in an empty sky. Yet their display was far inferior to the endless sky above, the myriad stars that met Arcane’s sealed eyes as she tilted her head back towards their glittering expanse. She smiled towards them, a slight tear in her eye soon vanishing in the night wind. And as she let her head fall once more to the barren earth before her, the endless plains of darkness in which no light could be seen, she spoke once more.

“Always, I wait. For what once was to be again, and my throne to no longer sit alone.” She whispered into the darkness, unheard, unnoticed.

Then she vanished. The sheer speed she could attain was beyond mortal perception, or even immortal for that matter. Using it in its entirety, she dashed through the frozen town, so fast that not even the air was able to move out of her way. No longer bound by the laws of the universe, she moved through the castle walls and the unmoving air to return to the bed she had claimed as her own. As she lay in that crude bed, closed eyes turning to look towards the bare ceiling, she looked behind her to see if any trace of her passage was left. Satisfied, she let her mind drift off into the realm of sleep.

And as she did, the world started moving once more, none the wiser for all her indiscretions.

The next morning Arcane awoke in the predawn darkness. Rising easily, she left the bedroom and ascended to the tower rooftop she had claimed as her preferred place over the past few days. Once there, she cleansed her body with rapid vibrations which broke down any dirt or sweat that had accumulated.

She withdrew a pale pink fruit from thin air to break her fast, splitting the solid rind in half and plucking the blood red, juicy seeds with bare fingers. A trace of juice trailed down her chin, intercepted by a quick finger before it could stain her robes.

Grimacing at the imagery of blood she had conjured with this meal, Arcane nevertheless carried on. Her thoughts were inscrutable, though she was frowning while watching the distant fires that marked the camp of black tents that surrounded the Black Prince. She said nothing, though, merely continuing to pluck the bloody seeds from the hardened fruit and slip them between her lips.

When she finished, the rind and residue on her hands were consumed in fire. Allowing the crimson tongues to swirl up her arms and curl around her body, Arcane sighed into the morning air while the sun rose behind her, illuminating the world with its glory. At that signal life in the castle stirred again, a few seconds behind the distant campsite. Below, Annabelle was roused by a servant and jumped into action again, racing through her morning routine and stalking into the hallways.

Arcane simply turned around and gazed at the sun, her closed eyes undamaged by the brilliance of its rays. She glanced back towards the distant camp and calculated something with her fingers twitching, finally nodding a few seconds later. Then she sat down again and started to count softly.

Before she had reached ten thousand, there was a commotion at the gate. Hearing the raised voices and sensing the imminent conflict, Arcane stood up and descended into the palace. Unseen or heard, she penetrated the heavily guarded hallways with ease, slipping into the study behind a frantic guard and taking up her place atop the bookcase she had used yesterday.

“Your Highness!!-” The guard shouted as he approached the table.

“The Prince is here?” Annabelle interrupted swiftly, not even waiting for confirmation before sighing. “I will retrieve my father. We will await him in the throne room.”

Arcane raised an eyebrow at that. From what she had seen the Rose King had not recovered enough to surpass Annabelle in a fight, much less the stronger Black Prince. What was more surprising, though, was that there was a throne room. Arcane had not seen such a thing while she was exploring the castle. Then again, she hadn’t really been searching all that hard, either. Shrugging, she descended from the bookcase in a single fluid motion and waited to tail the Rose Princess to this Throne room.

Annabelle set off through the hallways, muttering under her breath. “Too early… he must have known, somehow. But how? Was Arcane really one of his agents? Then why did she free us… no, it couldn’t have been. The Black Prince would never have sacrificed a surer plan in favor of a less sure one. But then how?”

Arcane didn’t have the answers to any of those questions either, but then again she really didn’t care what they were. Still, she traced back through her memory and recalled several of the gilded pieces the pirate captain had given her carried some sort of unusual energy. She had destroyed it in the desert as a matter of course; if this Black Prince could determine the Rose Princess’s freedom from just that it was quite impressive. After all, he was only about ten days behind Annabelle in reaching the kingdom; if the Western continent was as far from the desert as the Eastern, he would have had to leave at almost the exact moment the trace was removed to catch up.

Arcane then shook her head and corrected herself. If the Black Prince had competent sailors, he would have been fine leaving up to five or six days after the trace was broken. Or perhaps he could have spent five to six days searching for the reason of the trace; while the sand lizards would have destroyed any fleshy traces of the pirate camp, wood and stone were not among their dietary preferences and enough could have been left for a decent reconstruction.

“Papa?” Annabelle called while knocking on an ornate door in the royal quarters. “Are you awake?”

“Come in” a muffled voice replied, leading Annabelle to open the door and walk in to see her father struggling to pull a fur robe over his head. Arcane rolled her eyes and turned away, a slight flush rising in her cheeks.

Behind her the pair completed the task of dressing the king in ornate finery and a gilded crown, the ostentatious clothes almost masking the severe depletion of strength caused by the trauma of the past weeks. Arcane waited for them to proceed her and glanced through the king’s bedchamber, withdrawing before the door closed behind them after finding nothing.

The royals worked their way through the stone halls and over the fur rugs, Annabelle assisting her father with every step. Arcane idly wondered how they expected the Black Prince not to pick up on this weakness, but declined to reveal herself to ask. Fortunately, the king himself had the same thought.

“The Prince will not be blind to my peril, daughter.” He reminded her as he stumbled on the stairs.

Catching him, Annabelle nodded in agreement. “No, he won’t. But if he doubts himself enough…” She offered, glancing at her father out of the corner of her eye.

“That arrogant…” The King growled. “I rather doubt it.”

“If there’s a chance, Papa.” Annabelle pleaded. “Otherwise he’ll have no mercy.”

The King sighed in agreement, pushing Annabelle away. “Very well. Still, my daughter, please take yourself away from here while he is so suppressed. I fear even at full strength I would not delay him long.”

“Don’t say that!” Annabelle cried, hugging her father tighter than necessary. “If you could just recover a bit more, you’ll destroy him! I’m sure of it, Papa!”

“Huhuhu…” the king chuckled. “Perhaps, little Belle. Still, I want you safe before…”

“Absolutely not! I can’t leave you alone, Papa.” she declared, pulling him along. “Stop worrying so much! It’s bad for your health.”

The king allowed himself to be persuaded and pulled along. Still, his face twisted in a worried grimace whenever Annabelle turned away, obviously not as confident in their plans as she was. Arcane sympathized with him, but still declined to reveal herself.

Soon they reached the throne room, entering from a side door just beside the great chair that acted as a throne in this world. Arcane tilted her head in confusion, not seeing anything special about this seat except its size. Annabelle and the king seemed not to notice (for obvious reasons) and hurried to the chair.

Arcane took her time, examining the few great pillars that decorated the larger than average hallway that acted as an audience chamber for the Rose Kingdom. The walls were plain, though tapestries had once adorned them, and the only light came from openings in the ceiling which would make this place a nightmare in inclement weather. Shrugging off her concerns, Arcane recalled how little rain there had been in this world so far. Perhaps it simply wasn’t an issue if the hall was unusable every once in awhile.

The king sat in the great throne, Annabelle by his side. Once they were situated Annabelle called towards the ends of the hall and claimed they were ready. Guards at that end nodded and conveyed the message to their comrades outside.

The hall was left in silence as those comrades ran down the hallways outside, likely to convey the message to the front gates. Annabelle stood stiffly while her father shifted about to find the most comfortable place on that stone seat. Arcane gazed at him in sympathy, having had more than a few experiences with the discomfort of thrones herself. She felt it was intentional, a few clever craftsmen or nobles trying to remind a ruler that leadership was not supposed to be comfortable. As if the figurative swords of Damocles hanging over them every waking moment did not suffice, Arcane scoffed to herself. War, famine, rebellion… thousands more, each aimed directly at the ruler’s neck ready to take their head at the slightest sign of fear or failure.

Minutes later there was a cacophony at the end of the hall, many marching feet echoing through the stone halls and announcing the approach of the Black Prince and his minions. Arcane looked through the walls and saw them ready for battle. Sighing, she compromised her intent and turned to the king.

‘This game would be no fun if you failed this quickly.’ She thought silently.

When the Black Prince threw open the doors at the end of the hall, he got two steps into the hall before stopping dead and staring at the king, who he could feel possessed all the energy and vitality of an eighth tier cultivator. Confusion flashed across his face, then worry then confidence and scheming. Turning the hard look into a smile, he walked down the hall and bowed deeply before the throne, gesturing for his companions to kneel instead. Confused, but obedient, they did so.

“I bid you welcome, Your majesty, King of Roses.” The Black Prince called in an heroic voice, making Annabelle frown though her father kept his composure.

“We welcome you, Your highness, Prince of Boreal.” The King responded evenly, his voice shaking the air slightly. Annabelle didn’t seem to notice, casting a worried glance at her father before glaring at the Black Prince again. “Word of your exploits have reached us from across the ocean. It is our honor to have such a hero visiting our nation.”

“You flatter me.” The Black Prince smiled. “But I cannot help but accept.”

“We speak nothing but truth.” The King complimented with a smile of his own. “Still, we cannot help but wonder what has brought you to our city.”

“My, I believed it was obvious.” The Black Prince grinned at the king, turning his eyes slightly to the side. “As you have heard of my nation, I have heard of yours. Tell me, is this flower not the lovely Princess of Roses whose beauty is spoken of far and wide?”

“You-” Annabelle started to say before her arm was caught by the king, leading her to bow her head and step back.

“Compliments towards our person are welcome, your highness, but proper decorum is required before speaking of a lady.” The King reprimanded politely. “My daughter may have yet to choose her fiance, but it is still unbecoming for a male to force his attentions onto her.”

“Of course, your majesty. I have overstepped my bounds.” the Black Prince bowed, placing his paw over his heart. “Still, I hope you will forgive my impropriety; I simply could not help myself.”

“It is the responsibility of all cultivators to take control of both their minds and their bodies, young prince. A moments indiscretion here, a slip of concentration there, and you may find yourself with far less talent than you have now.” The king replied, shaking his head. “What sort of person would I be if I failed to discourage such behavior?”

“Most certainly, your majesty. Such advice from one much more experienced than I is welcome.” an unreadable smile met the King’s reprimand easily. “Still, we must consider these things in the context of what surrounds them, is that not so?”

“You have some measure of wisdom despite your youth, I see. Even so, I would advise you not to grow too confident. While youth may come with strength, wisdom has a role to play as well.” the King nodded to the Black Prince, both smiling at each other without a hint of friendliness. “So I will ask again, for what have you come before me?”

“Your majesty, while it may be forwards, I cannot help but recall that you have claimed your daughter has no fiance as of yet. Hearing of this from the other side of the ocean, I have come to submit my name to the list of options.” The Black Prince stated, bowing again.

“This is indeed forward.” The king said gravely. “Yet, I myself do not have the right to refuse. I am uncertain of how it works in the west, but in the East it is the girl herself who chooses her bride, and no other.”

“Truly?” The Black Prince asked, surprised. Arcane agreed with him, remembering a certain pair of elfbeasts linked together by the machinations of their parents. Even so, he maintained his composure and turned to the princess. “Well then, it seems I must speak to you instead, your highness.”

“That is indeed a courteous offer.” Annabelle said with a blatantly false smiled. “However, as you may have heard I was recently the victim of an unnatural plot against my kingdom. I fear I have not yet recovered from the experience, and as such cannot consider suiters of any sort for a time.”

“If that is that case, your highness, then I cannot help but withdraw.” The black prince smiled and bowed again. “Still, I would be a poor suiter to give up that easily. I would like to have a chance to display my prowess and suitability to you directly, and have come so far for that purpose… Therefore, your majesty, I wonder if it would be possible for me to remain in your kingdom as a visitor until this temporary issue has subsided.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt it would, your highness. I fear there may not be accommodations of the quality you are used to available, and I cannot bear the disgrace to my kingdom of hosting you in inferior lodgings.” The king replied before Annabelle could say anything. She glared at him but subsided after a quick squeeze of her wrist.

“No worries, no worries. My compatriots have prepared a small camp a few hours out from the city, and I find the natural living to be most beneficial to my cultivation. Perhaps I will be able to breakthrough soon.” The Prince waved his paw in negation, smiling softly.

“Oh my, that certainly will not do. I am sure the fine residences of your home country would be far more conducive to cultivation, but if you truly must be close I am aware of several open villas in the nearby kingdoms. In fact, I heard Port Windfall has recently been vacated by dozens of nobles.” The king said, shaking his head absolutely.

“As did I, of course, but I didn’t believe it. Strange what you hear in rumors these days.” The Black Prince replied evenly. “The common folk will say anything to justify not working, indeed.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I am afraid I must insist, though, else I would have to escort you there myself.” The Rose king replied with a laugh. The Black Prince grimaced and nodded unhappily, bowing and backing out of the room.

“Of course, your majesty. Once we have found a place I will return, and we may continue our discussion, i hope?”

“I look forward to it.” The King replied, dismissing the prince and sitting firm until all the black clothed soldiers had streamed out of the room after their leader. Arcane heard him silently scolding one of them about poisoned food and reports of decrepitude, but chose to ignore them after a few minutes.

Neither Annabelle nor the Rose King himself realized why the Black Prince had suddenly changed his mind upon seeing the seated king, but Arcane was fully aware of how this meeting would have gone without her presence. Shaking her head, she dispelled the illusion that made the Black Prince perceive the Rose king at full strength. Maintaining the perception blocking powers of Obscurus, she started towards the door.

Behind her, the Rose King and Princess spoke in hushed whispers.

“Papa, he…” Annabelle growled under her breath.

“Came with the intent to kill me, I know.” The Rose King sighed. “It seems I was better off than he expected, but this will not delay him long. Little Belle, you must prepare yourself.”

“Papa, you can recover in another month. No matter how fast he moves we can make at least that much time, especially with him commuting from Port Windfall…” Annabelle protested, shaking her head and tail excitedly.

The King denied her, though. “He won’t. I fear he will strike in less than a week. Belle, I beg you…”

“Absolutely not! Papa, I won’t let him kill you! Don’t leave me!” Annabelle cried desperately, and Arcane stopped just before the doorway. Paused midstep, she waited in silence.

“Belle, this is an order!” the king growled, pushing her away from him. “I exile…”

“I don’t care, Papa! No matter what you say, I’m not leaving! No matter what!” Annabelle proclaimed, knocking his paw away and standing straight and tall. “That Black Prince doesn’t scare me! I’ll fight him, you’ll see. He’s not that strong. Even if I have to die, Papa, I’ll…”

“Annabelle!” The king shouted, aghast.

Yet over at the other end of the hall, a cyan haired girl moved her mouth to finish what the Rose Princess had been trying to say. ‘Protect you… no matter what.’ Bowing her head, Arcane turned away from the door and walked back into the audience chamber. Stopping where the Black Prince had stood before, she looked at the arguing king and princess with closed eyes, an inscrutable expression on her doll like face. Slowly, she reached behind her shoulder to finger the hilt of a crystalline sword. Engraved in its surface was the single word, Elucidation.

A few minutes later the Rose Princess stormed off, leaving her father collapsed on the throne, despair and remorse in his eyes. The guards, courteously, left the room so their king could be alone with his weakness and grief.

“Blazes… how did it all go so wrong?” The king wondered aloud, speaking (he thought) to no one. “First she’s taken from me, now I’ll have to lose her again. Either by her own will, or to that accursed schemer. And no matter how much I want to force her to the first, she is set on the second…. Blaze it all. My dear Belle… why did this happen to us? What did we do wrong?”

“There’s usually not a reason, honestly.”

A clear, high pitched yet mature voice broke his reverie, a single girl standing beside a pillar on the side of the chamber. The king jumped, startled, but calmed when he saw who was standing there.

“Arcane… How long have you been there? No, nevermind… It was you who scared off the Black Prince, then?” He said, as confirmation more than question.

Arcane nodded once, still looking off into the distance. “Karma is a lie. Those who do good do not receive the same, and those who do evil rarely are punished for it. So often the best of us want to look inwards for the source of our misfortune, never understanding that there is nothing there to find, whilst the most evil always search outwards when the source is within. I guess that’s human nature, though.”

The king looked at her suspiciously, nodding slowly in agreement. “If you mean to comfort me, don’t bother. I would much prefer a more tangible aid, in the form of persuading my daughter.”

Arcane remained silent, not answering the king’s request. Yet neither minded her disrespect, her not caring, he suspecting her power.

“I have no intention of interfering.” She said finally. The king straightened and seemed about to reply when Arcane held up a hand. “Annabelle will survive your death. My business with the prince is finished; I will take her with me when I leave.”

The king opened and closed his mouth before bowing his head, tears dripping from his eyes. “Thank you… Even though it’s impossible, I somehow find myself believing you.”

“She will seek revenge.” Arcane said softly, her closed eyes still looking towards the distance. “She does not have the strength to succeed.”

“Even so… There is a chance.” The king said, relaxing back onto the throne with a smile on his face.

“Chance… if such a thing existed, the universe would be a much kinder place.” Arcane commented idly. “As she is now, as she will be, she will die when she faces him. No matter when or where. You must know that.”

“I do. Thus I can only delay that confrontation…” The Rose king said sadly, his eyes looking into the distance as well.

“I see.” Arcane replied, turning her sealed eyes towards the Rose king and staring at him for a long time. He gazed back, wet eyes glistening, but still meeting her ominous gaze steadily. “There will be a chance.” She declared finally, pushing herself away from the pillar and walking towards the door.

“Arcane!” The king called behind her, so she paused and glanced back. “Whatever you intend… I thank you. For helping my daughter as much as you have.”

Arcane nodded, turning away and leaving the chamber and its decrepit king. As she left, she muttered under her breath. “You should not thank me for this, child.”

As if in answer, the blade of Elucidation glowed softly, a crimson harbinger of what was to come.

Arcane wandered the halls, perceiving the countless marks that described the history of the castle yet noticing none of them. Idly, she checked on the positions of the people she knew: Annabelle, locked in her room muttering furiously to herself; Jasmina, with Coleus in an inner city estate, along with several older elfbeasts. She smiled wryly. Just those two… along with the king, those were the only people she knew anything about in this city. Oh, and Deadridge. He was holed up in his office, much like Annabelle.

A better place to start than nothing, she shrugged to herself, altering her path through the castle.

While the Black Prince was confronting the Rose King, she had traced the pattern of his thoughts and memories. The information she desired was among the most prominent. There were stockpiles of oil in the Boreal nation of the west, though they should have run out long ago. They were preserved by the use of a special cultivation technique that turned wood into fire that melted any metal. The black liquid was called the drink of the dark god, for it killed any mortal who consumed it (obviously) and burned hotter and longer than any other material they knew.

Arcane paused in the hallway, her expressionless, closed eyes fixed on a pair of maids going about their work. A pity, truly… that so many were caught up in the schemes of those stronger than them, weaklings unable to do more than scream and cry while being crushed by the aftershocks of those fights.

It was hypocritical for her to think that, she knew. She could easily save them, preserve every last innocent life and protect them from the ravages of what was to come. They would have no part to play in the turmoil approaching; their absence would not change anything. Even without interfering, even without disrupting the rules she set for herself, she could do it.

And yet, just as those warriors who would directly cause their deaths, she would not spare the slightest effort to do so. Even as she perceived them burning, screaming in agony in their final moments, their bodies and souls crushed by power beyond their capability to resist, she would not raise a finger on their behalf.

The maids moved past her, and Arcane resumed her slow progress through the hallways. Torchlight flickered on the walls, weakly glowing to illuminate the darkened halls, and the shadows embraced Arcane and her dark thoughts.

Perhaps it was cruel. Unlike the others, who did not even notice those they crushed in this way, Arcane was aware of every single one of them. The faded shadows left behind in countless eons were engraved in her memories as nothing else was. Illuminated by infinite light, they were cast perpetually into darkness. Even knowing that, even knowing the terror it entailed, she continued on her path, making her decision.

Some things just could not be allowed, no matter if the morality that decreed that decision or the situation that led to that morality no longer existed. Arcane knew this better than anyone. Thus, she continued to serve the role she always had, and always will.

The bright cyan dress swung on her body as the girl came to a stop outside a wooden door she had seen only once before. Her hand rested on the stone knob; it was latched on the other side, but still swung open easily to admit the human child into the greying elfbeast’s room.

“Dammit, I said I wasn’t to be… you! What are you doing… who were you again?” Deadridge sputtered, half rising from his desk and knocking papers everywhere.

Arcane raised an eyebrow and calmly seated herself in front of the desk, gazing at the Rose kingdom’s spymaster with lidded eyes. The unnaturalness of being looked at by apparently unseeing lids and an uncanny silence one could only notice subconsciously combined to stop Deadridge’s intent to call for help, and he found himself sitting back down and waiting for the girl in front of him to speak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.” He said after several minutes, unable to bear the silence as long as Arcane could.

“Arcane.” She replied simply, as the door closed and latched itself behind her.

“Alright, Arcane. As we’ve never been formally introduced, I’m Deadridge, the king’s spy handler. Why have you broken into my office?” Deadridge bowed his head and then extended his paw, before glancing at the door and revealing an expression of surprise. “Or were you just here all along and I didn’t notice?”

“Tomorrow, your king will die.” Arcane declared simply, not bothering with the introduction.

“... If this was anyone else I might take that as a threat, but I really don’t see any reason for you to make those.” Deadridge commented, shaking his head and withdrawing his paw. “Still, that’s not something you can say. People might take it the wrong way.”

Arcane simply stared at him and waited. Deadridge glared back but then sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back. “I assume this has to do with that western serpent who visited today, right?”

“The Black Prince intends to take the Rose Throne by force.” Arcane agreed, her face and body unmoving.

“I see.” Deadridge sighed and reached below his desk to withdraw a wood case of something. Opening a hole in the top, he poured it into a stone cup then proffered it to Arcane, who shook her head firmly. He didn’t seem to mind, resealing the case and returning it to below the desk. “He won’t succeed. Conquest by force is not a legitimate means of inheritance here in the East. Maybe he could pull it off in the West, but there are rules here. He’s an idiot if he tries.”

“Blood to blood, family to family.” Arcane corrected, shaking her head at Deadridge’s argument. “He will marry the corpse of Annabelle and claim she was alive to accept him. By law of the East, he will have the right to what is hers if her killer dies by his paw.”

“... How do you know of this?” Deadridge asked after a long silence.

“I listen, I hear, I think. That is enough.” Arcane explained.

Her reply did little to soothe the concerns Deadridge obviously had, but she declined to speak further. The spymaster, understanding that, gave her a long look and nodded once. “I see. Then I will prepare for an attack on the morrow…”

“No.” Arcane interjected suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Deadridge growled, slamming the desk with his paw. “What do you mean no? Do you think you can just strut in here and tell me how to protect this kingdom? Do you think you are the only one who can accomplish anything, that a foreigner such as you can dictate the policy of the Rose Kingdom? An attack is imminent; let’s assume I believe you; blazes know there’s no reason for me to. For what reason would I not do everything in my power to defend this city from the attack you claim is coming? Tell me, what brilliant plan have you come up with? Do nothing? Or will you get out of the way and let me do my job. Thank you for the information; goodbye. I will deal with the attack. Run along now, little girl. This is a job for adults and soldiers to deal with.” he stood and inclined his head, turning towards the door.

Arcane waited for the tirade to finish, and did nothing as Deadridge stood. But before he could move, she spoke. “I did not speak of an attack.”

Deadridge stopped and turned to look at her again. “Then what did you speak of?”

“The Rose King will die tomorrow.” Arcane repeated, turning her sightless eyes on Deadridge with uncanny precision. “That is not a warning; it is a statement of fact. A determined fate, a story already written. You cannot change it; no matter what you do, no matter how you prepare, it will not be enough to alter destiny. All you can do is prepare for what is to come, and withstand the storm.”

Deadridge stared back at her, unable to speak from the intensity in the words that did not belong in the mouth of a child. Before he could recover, Arcane continued, her voice flat and monotone and yet full of unimaginable strength.

“Yet, for all the schemes and plots of the Black Prince, not all will be consumed by it. The Rose Princess will outlive her father’s passing, and escape the army lacking faces. That, too, is already known. I wonder, you who claims to protect the kingdom; which will you defend: that which is already lost, or that which may yet be saved?” Arcane smiled suddenly, twisting her lips while shaking her head. “But of course, a foreigner should not dictate the policy of the Rose Kingdom. It is a job for adults and soldiers to deal with.”

Deadridge opened and closed his mouth several times as Arcane stood and walked to the door. Finally, just as she was about to leave, he gathered enough strength to speak. “Girl… No, Arcane… how can you be sure?”

The girl paused in the doorway, turning back towards the apparently older man with an ageless expression of wisdom and memory. “Fate… cannot be changed. I know that all too well.” Then she walked out and let the door close and latch behind her, leaving Deadridge alone in an office with only a few shifted papers to mark her visit there. For a long time, he sat in silence, thinking over what she had said. When he finally stood, she was long gone.

Arcane relocated herself to her seat atop the tallest tower. Her sealed eyes tracked the retreat of the Black Prince’s party through the woods, her hair and face illuminated by the setting sun. They made it safely back to camp, no beasts of the forest courageous enough to attack that many blatant cultivators. Arcane frowned as they began to move, spreading out into the forest and making new camps. She was not displeased by the exceptionally flagrant offensive actions, which she already expected. It was instead the loud sounds of panic, the myriad deaths, and the utter silence that followed as nature was forced to yield to the Prince’s troops. Arcane sighed, bowing her head in lament.

This turned her eyes to the castle, where Deadridge was instructing his men on several secret passageways out of the castle and soldiers were moving to prepare to evacuate. The king was sleeping on his throne, his face relaxed and at peace with the trust that everything would be alright on the morrow. Annabelle pushed herself too hard, falling asleep before the sun set and letting her tension fall away in dreams of happier times. Nobles, sensing the coming troubles, gathered wealth or servants to flee or fight the only way they knew how. Peasants and commonfolk, perhaps aware of the Boreal Empire but not concerned with the politics of their betters, were exactly as they had been. Trading, cooking, cleaning, resting… the business of life continued, even as war was knocking on their door.

Arcane lifted her eyes to the skies above. In the asteroid belt, several forms made of pure darkness were making their way back toward the inner system and the life bearing planet there. They would arrive in two days, slowly eating their way to the nearest approach before turning inwards. Arcane nodded; her calculations had been correct, and all would be settled not long after.

All the players were set, all the pieces assembled. The stage merely awaited the coming dawn, as the sun set in the west and left the world in a silent darkness. Stars above shone down on extinguished lights below, the Black Prince trying to hide his strength and the Rose Kingdom hiding their own preparations for him. All that remained was for the script to be read, the acts run through. In the minds of everyone involved, there were no uncertainties. The ending was already determined, but each must struggle all they could to prevent or create it.

Yet a single piece had been inserted into the board without the knowledge of any player. As of yet, it had not changed the setup; it alone knew of the treachery hidden behind a pirate crew, the secret thoughts of a port lord, the plans within plans of a scheming prince. Pieces fell into place before its eyes, made it understand everything. And yet, it found it did not much like this board, did not much care for the game being played in front of it.

Arcane lifted her hand into the air, grasping several stars in her fist. Was it fair, to anyone, that she had been thrown into their lives to spread chaos and uncertainty? It was wrong to interfere, to change the destiny of worlds, yet could it not be said that she had already done so? It would be trivial for her to smash this gameboard, to annihilate either player and choose a winner to rule this world. Yet still, despite all the good it would do, she stayed her hand.

To say she did not know why would be a lie. To say she doubted her decision would be false. Yet even so, she could not help but feel.

By refusing to act, by doing nothing, was she not just as culpable as everyone else involved? Was it not her fault that Annabelle would suffer, the Rose Kingdom would fall, the war between east and west would start in earnest, that its destruction would claim the lives of countless innocents?

Tomorrow, would she not be the one to kill a king?