Lord Walter gazed at the Five Kingdom's Congress, somewhat at a loss. Since he rode horseback behind Elin, he leaned to get a clearer view. He squinted because of distance and sunlight.

They traveled much further north than he expected, passed Camp Wolf and the Necropolis, to a temple surrounded by numerous camps. The site, Prince Wilhelm explained, hosted the annual congress, established after Bartgor's Conquest and the last hero summoning.

The temple itself was built in what Eovamundians called, 'The Old Style,' which Walter thought looked like a Greco-Roman acropolis. A statue of a muscular man with a long flowing beard held a pair of scales and a book. From a distance, the carving looked like a figurine. Well-dressed individuals milled or powerwalked on the grounds, and Walter recognized the blue uniforms of Wilmand and the reds of Rangville.

Prince Wilhelm's horse trotted next to theirs, pulling ahead and slowing down like it couldn't decide if it wanted to gallop or not, and it seemed to share the prince's enthusiasm. Nix rode double with the prince and snuggled into his back. She looked half asleep, or, at least, lost in a daydream.

I hope Elin isn't bothered that she's the one that has to hold the reigns. I can't quite figure out how to drive a horse.

Behind them followed armored wagons, the royal entourage, ferrying dozens of men and plenty of supplies.

To their side, Prime Minister Asibridel quietly marched, eyes downcast. Elin avoided sparing her any notice, so Walter did likewise.

"Who's the statue?"

"That's Zeus, the Sage of Law. It's usually not this populated," Prince Wilhelm explained, "Your presence encouraged an increased membership."

Since when is Zeus a freaking sage?

Walter shrugged. "My bad."

Prince Wilhelm grinned. "The opposite, in fact. It's good to have increased communication during these times, not less. If not for your attendance, then we'd be behind our walls sharpening our swords instead of at the table sharpening our tongues. Isn't that better?"

"Well, can't argue with that."

Prince Wilhelm reminded Walter of a high school jock, the quarterback type, but the opposite of a bully. The more he talked with the guy, the more Walter warmed up to him. It didn't seem like the prince was ingratiating himself. Unlike Prince Peterby, a behind-the-scenes schemer, and Princess Roselynde, a social manipulator, Prince Wilhelm behaved with a 'live and let live' philosophy. When others spoke to him with formal speech, a bored and guarded expression dragged over his face. If it wasn't for the fact he avoided his duties to bang his elf girlfriend, Walter would admit he'd think of him as a young King Arthur.

Right, elves.

Last night, Prime Minister Asibridel broke into their tent and begged for his help. That was the most she got to say before Elin tackled her. The prime minister tried to fight her off but quickly found herself overpowered by Elin's ridiculous strength. She stared in disbelief as Elin flung her about. By the time Elin finished with her, the prime minister was a bruised and dirty mess.

After Walter's chest was pierced a second time by an enemy, Elin remained on high alert any time they traveled. Uncharacteristically, she argued, with a vehement tone, against his moving without an escort. Since she did not trust anyone with his safety, that meant her, and sometimes Sister Lora.

"Please, consider my plea," Prime Minister Asibridel said. The pretty dress she showed up in was stained, ripped, and ruined, but she refused to change.

Once established as unthreatening, Prince Wilhelm agreed she could accompany them back to the congress, on the condition she makes no other attempts to bargain. Prime Minister Asibridel complied, and, until the moment the congress came into view, said nothing.

"That'll be enough, prime minister," Prince Wilhelm said, "There are rules established for this kind of thing. Don't make the situation any worse."

Prime Minister Asibridel ignored Prince Wilhelm and kept searching Walter's face. "Please, Lord Walter. It's a matter of life and death."

Elin huffed. Her fists tightened on the reigns, and the leather straps creaked. "You persistent--"

"Alright," Walter said. He cut off Elin, and she muttered under her breath. "I'll give it all due consideration, alright? No promises. Okay?"

Prime Minster Asibridel opened her mouth to petition him again.

"You received your answer," Elin snapped. The horse shuddered. "He said no promises. If you intend to pressure him, then the answer will definitely be no."

"I understand," the prime minister said. "I will run ahead, then. We hope that you will lend us your aid."

Asibridel entered her tent.

Ms. Robin stared at her before saying, "Did he decline?"

"No, it worked out exactly as I thought it would."

"He pledged his help?"

"He will."

Anxiety tightened Asibridel's stomach, and by the time she cleaned and changed clothes, she practiced a breathing routine to get a handle on it. When was the last time she felt this hopeful? Not for over a century, memories that far back tended to get blurry, and not since she adopted her current name.

The purpose of Lord Walter's visit to the Five Kingdom's Congress was to abate the fear that swirled since the skirmish. Everyone wanted to know his political stance, and his goals, and, most importantly, how, or if, he regulated his qualms. Apparently, the meeting was Lord Walter's idea. Many suspected he wished to demand tribute or fidelity. All six nations sent multiple letters verifying and double-checking none was required. No one arrived empty-handed, regardless.

Prince Wilhelm would reestablish his camp, have preemptive meetings, and, when General Tybalt returned from Rangville, the formal summit would commence. Prime Minister Asibridel estimated the initiation of the opening ceremony at twenty-four hours. She doubted that Lord Walter would be seen in public during that time, and it might be for the best. His help was tentative. Like a good blacksmith, she needed to warm the metal up before striking.

"I'm changing the honor guard roster," Prime Minister Asibridel said. She handed Ms. Robin a small slip of parchment.

Ms. Robin's eyebrows shot up, and she shook her head, "Prime minister, with all due respect, these women--I don't want to be mean, because they sacrificed quite a bit--but they're not suitable--"

"This list isn't up for debate. Put the soldiers towards the center of the congress and closest to Prince Wilhelm's camp."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Did Don Undmuth request an appointment?"

"Yes? How did you know?"

Asibridel left behind Ms. Robin's bewilderment. She refused to waste time on education.

There were six camps at the Five Kingdom's Congress, one for each of the nations involved in international affairs. The land surrounding Zeus's temple, the hub of activity, was divided into six sectors, like slices of a pie. Theoretically, the rules dictated each camp should stand 'in equal measure of numbers and strength' to prevent the seizure of the congress by military force. However, in practicality, the rule only applied to the Wilmand Kingdom and the Rangville Empire since they were the ones capable of fielding a conventional army. The United Barbarian Tribes could match their numbers but not their organization, and they didn't care to do so. The Sanctuary, because elves enjoyed heightened physicality, and the Alune Theocracy, due to the potency of their magic, could match force but not numbers. Lastly, Bartgoria, the unofficial sixth member and mafia-controlled country, could compete with neither. The pieces of the pie bloated and shriveled to match their presence. Only Bartgoria suffered a smaller space than the Sanctuary.

Where Bartgoria lacked in might, they excelled in economic control and spying. To say they were doing worse than the elves would be incorrect. His camp might be smaller, but it was exquisite and far more comfortable.

A bear of a man escorted her to the don's tent and bid her wait. She sat on a cushioned sofa, opposite a chair. Precious time ticked by until Don Undmuth arrived and took the opposite side.

"You have something I want," Don Undmuth said.

"Indeed," Asibridel nodded, "It will be expensive."

Don Undmuth's figure did not intimidate. He appeared as a small-bodied scribe or librarian. In fact, Asibridel inferred he probably started that way, and, if not for his reputation, she would not think highly of him as a specimen. Yet, adorned in sea mammal fur and precious ocean curiosities, surrounded by obedient and harsh fighters, it was hard not to admire him. He lived in opulence without ostentation. None of his servants and enforcers seemed lacking, either.

"Well, I'm sure there isn't a price we can't match."

"Your trust."

Don Undmuth grunted. "That's quite steep. Well, after your behavior last night, one would think to avoid your company until after the meet-and-greet. Still, it's not like you simply didn't act on what we were all thinking. Most of us are jealous."

"Of course."

"To think, if this Lord Walter was summoned in one of our countries, then how different the situation would be?"

"Very."

What he wanted was information, intimate details about Lord Walter's life and thought process. The don was not a fool, and he could clearly see both opportunity and danger, and Lord Walter's existence presented both. Like the others, he smuggled in tributes and prepared over a score of crates to cater to every possible taste. His issue was: which gift should one be necessary?

Finally, after a sigh, the don leaned back and extended his palms.

Prime Minister Asibridel said, "I want you to get Lady Elin's attention."

Don Undmuth blinked, "You must think I'm suicidal."