“Sometimes friendship can be far more precious than a blade and armor made of rintium.”

Old saying from the Inner Fantasy

***

Ostrias gulped down the cup of tea joyfully. The cold liquid had the fragrant scent of fresh strawberries and quenched his thirst, cooling his body in a pleasant manner.

“Thank you”, the Ashen Gaze said to the servant that brought him the tea and several other refreshments. He then dismissed the young man before wiping the sweat off of his brow with one of the few handkerchiefs laying in his pockets.

“You react to heat like you usually do, Ostrias.” The man on the opposite side of the table smiled. “You never change, old friend.”

The two of them were sitting in a vast room, carved into the side of a huge rock as part of a complex vertical palace created almost a full millennium ago. The place was in the middle of the Expanse of Dust – the only desert in the Inner Fantasy. It was a hot place, although it paled in comparison to most other deserts scattered throughout the world. In any case, Ostrias couldn’t stand it even as it was. He didn’t understand his friend’s wish to use this particular palace as his winter residence, but everyone had their preferences.

The room was on the highest floor of the complex, making it easy to see a massive part of the whole desert through its windows. The sand-filled, lifeless wastes stretched out to the horizon. This palace was next to one of the only visible oases in the whole Expanse. Otherwise it’d be abandoned long, long ago, or not even built in the first place.

“You know that I hate places that are too hot, especially during the winter”, the Ashen Gaze said. “Why did you have to bring me here?”

“It’s one of my favorite residencies, actually. And I was already here when you contacted me, you know? I even managed to get the Last Goliath to erect a portal to one of my cities here some several decades ago, so you shouldn’t complain about means of travel or going back to the civilized world. I know that coming here was a pain in the ass, but still… Don’t you like it here?” The man made a vague gesture towards the room’s smooth walls, ornamented door and luxurious furniture.

“It’s far from bad, Bel… But the heat is still unbearable.”

The man smiled.

“You’ve been repeating this for over two days now…” He took a pipe out of his pocket and began to stuff it with some of the tobacco that the servants recently brought to the table. Once he lit it and began smoking with a joyful expression he threw a glance towards Ostrias. A thin web of blue and greyish smoke rose like a halo around his head. “I think we must talk about… this whole situation. And about the Thirdborn, most importantly.”

The Ashen Gaze sighed.

“You’re right… As always, Bel.” He took a sip from one of the other cups with iced tea on the table. It had the taste of peaches this time. “Have your spies brought anything new to you?”

“Not anything that’s worth mentioning.” Bel shook his head. “Just the usual crap. The Lord of Dawn is getting richer. And of course he is, the damned whoreson. A quarter of my lands are part of the Expanse… All of his are farmlands and forests. It’s easy to make money from wheat and lumber.” The man grunted while Ostrias frowned. He knew very well how much Bel and the Lord of Dawn disliked each other. It was logical – they were the two most powerful men within the Inner Fantasy right now. Two individuals as bright and strong as them could not live in the same era without conflict inevitably emerging between them.

“So… Do you think that sending my underlings to kill Arleon was really a wise decision?” Ostrias asked.

“I don’t know for sure… But it would be a relief to have the little bugger out of the picture. I’ve been trying to make him stand under my banners and let the Pale Valley join my lands for almost five decades now, but… Nay, it seems my efforts were in vain. Even sending you to the Outer Fantasy didn’t account for much.” Bel let his hand run through his short, neatly combed brown hair, so light that it looked like cinnamon. He was beardless and his soft features (combined with his majestic, angular jaw and deep almond eyes) made him as beautiful as Ostrias, although the Ashen Gaze seemed a bit older.

“No freaking wonder”, Sevrian’s master thought when these thoughts crossed his head. “I’m almost two hundred years older than him, after all.”

“So… Do you think Rehlin will act against the Thirdborn or align with him?” The Ashen Gaze mumbled while desperately trying to cool himself with a small gust of wind created via Manipulation.

“The Seventhborn is… A wild card, more or less. I don’t know anything about him on the political front, except that he is an ally of the Lord of Dawn. He probably shouldn’t be too keen about the Thirdborn, though… In the end Farnaraen is the one that will receive the title of High Lord if he appears in the Inner Fantasy.” Bel went quiet for a while. “How strong is Farnaraen exactly, Ostrias? You’ve lived during the end of his presence in the Inner Fantasy. You should have heard stories about him, at least.”

“I’ve had. But I don’t believe most of them. Still, everyone knows that his Manipulation was on par with the Firstborn’s… And that’s scary… It’s nothing that the great Bel Yabboth, the Controller himself can’t deal with, probably.”

The man chuckled and let his pipe rest on the table after extinguishing it.

“You’re making me feel embarrassed, damn it.”

The two chatted for a little bit afterwards until a servant quietly entered the room and bowed.

“News have arrived, milords” he uttered in a clear and gentle manner.

“And what could they be?” Bel asked.

“The messenger didn’t state much, master Yabboth… Only that his information regards Rehlin the Seventhborn and the Lord of Dawn.”

Ostrias and Bel exchanged glances. The Ashen Gaze voiced the thoughts of them both with a smile on his face.

“Well… What are we waiting for?”

Soon the two of them left the room, their heads full of complex thoughts about politics and the world’s future.