Iofea’s life was over. Her sons had grown and were now abandoning her. She did her best to hide her pain, but it was apparent by the way she fretted over every detail. Just leaving the house had become a time-sucking chore.

Alton waited patiently while she adjusted his blouse. It was his fault that Gideon was leaving for Braytons, he couldn’t deny it. Fortunately, his adoptive mother didn’t put too much blame on him. That didn’t stop him from feeling guilty.

“You should get a haircut on your way to city hall,” muttered Iofea. She reached up and started to fuss with Alton’s hair.

“I’m growing it out,” replied Alton. Iofea pouted at him. “It’s easier for me to have a ponytail than it is to slick it back.” The combination of oily hair and hot weather was a disgusting one.

Iofea clasped onto his cheeks and squished them inward. “Gideon will be bringing you and Jory lunch. Don’t do anything to embarrass Jory. Do your best to act proper in front of Lord Cowl.”

“Uh huh.” He gave a peck to her cheek after she had let him go. “Goodbye, mother.”

Iofea preferred to ignore the fact that Alton had a life before he was adopted. Those were the people who had given him up. Alton was her son now. But Alton’s past was still important to him. There were so many questions in his heart, but he hadn’t the chance to phrase them properly. Actually, he had plenty of time, but he had been too busy attempting to avoid the issue completely.

Completely avoiding the issue was a valid and wise decision.

After all, what if he didn’t like what he heard? What if there was some dark secret to his past, or if he learned something that would change how he could live his life? It was terrifying to think about. Any time he wanted to bring it up to Enzo, his voice would end up locked in his throat.

Alton gave a slight tug on Bibi’s reins so he could let a group of people pass. The city was in the process of taking down the decorations for Iath’s feast day. Somewhere out there in the world, Sybil was no doubt brooding because no one let her participate in a tournament. He sighed at the thought.

He could use Sybil by his side right now. She would just go ahead and blurt out everything in front of Enzo and demand answers in return. Alton’s heart ached at the thought. She was so cute whenever she was being ignorant of common sense and social manners.

Giving another tug to Bibi’s reins, he set out again. Alton stopped by the stables near City Hall and locked her in a box. He then went inside and double-checked Enzo’s schedule with his aide. Since Alton would only be around for two weeks, he wasn’t given much in the way of tasks. It was mostly shut up and learn what he could.

They had narrowed the candidates for the next Crimson Duke to a group of nobles outside of Carapace. Most of the court had been dismantled, and members of the remaining court members were asked to pass an application process in order to return. Once a new duke or duchess was selected, Enzo would remain in Carapace for a year to ensure that the transition went smoothly.

Carapace was also suited as a far post for the war, where supplies and soldiers could be kept before being sent out to where they were needed. Duke Rubire’s exile had improved the quality of life for towns outside of the city. Mages had been constructing evacuation zones further south, where citizens living near the swamp had been moved to. It was easier to prepare the evacuation early. Traps were being set up to guide the tainted armies towards less populated regions, lowering casualties in the process.

This city would be kept safe until winter. Preparations were being made to have it fortified by them, but no one was certain if they would be done in time. Alton had listened to generals having meetings with Enzo and Paladin Arbutus. They were expecting a long and tedious war. Something which worried Alton a great deal.

The longer the war went, the better chance there was for Alton and his friends to be conscripted. Actually, probably not Alton. He doubted Enzo would let him go to war. Everyone else though… They would be in serious trouble.

Plenty of troubles loomed over Alton’s head as he worked. Deliver papers, sit silently at meetings, arrange for tea to be delivered to Enzo’s office when it was needed. Nicolas was always bouncing around from one area to another, as he had made excuse after excuse to stay in the city without having much of anything to do. Alton both saw plenty of them.

“Alton!” Nicolas waved from his end of the corridor. “Are you busy?”

“No.” Alton gestured to behind him. “I dropped off this afternoon’s papers so I have time for a short break.”

“Then let’s share a meal!” Nicolas exclaimed said with a wide grin.

“Thanks, I- Hrk!” Alton wasn’t able to say much before Nicolas grabbed him about the shoulders and began to drag him away.

With his free hand, Nicolas burst into Enzo’s office. “Enzo!” He firmly slapped Alton’s back to make him stand up straight. “Let’s have lunch! All three of us!”

Enzo pulled off his reading glasses. “... Hmm?” He then flipped through a couple of papers, glancing through each of them quickly. “I have some free time. We’ll have to dine here, as I am waiting for some signed documents to be returned to me. What are you in the mood for?”

“What else is? There is only one meal in Carapace that is worth eating,” replied Nicolas with a hearty laugh.

Enzo’s lips drew into a thin line. “... Ice noodles it is,” he replied. He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of menus. “I’ll have Master Alton make our order.”

Chilled buckwheat noodles served with spicy pickled cabbage, thinly sliced vegetables, and a hard-boiled egg. Sometimes with meat, sometimes without, depending on the restaurant. It was Nicolas’ favorite dish, but no one in the Violet Region could make it right. Now that he was in the Carapace, he had them whenever he could... So every day at lunch.

Enzo held up one of the menus. “Wasn’t this the place you were obsessed with twenty years ago?”

Nicolas’ eyes lit up. “I thought they closed!”

“They moved locations,” replied Enzo. He then scanned the menu. “As I recall, their specialty was snow dishes... But it isn’t the season for it.”

Nicolas’s body seemed to melt as he sulked. “We should train the mages at Grand Temple to be chefs instead of warriors,” he muttered.

This man was Shaw’s father. This man right here. Alton blinked a few times. Paladin Nicolas was much more Zaniyah than he was Shaw. How did... Wait, twenty years ago? Snow dishes were only served in winter, which meant that both of them were in Carapace during that time.

“Ah, actually,” whispered Alton. Both men looked at him. “There is something that I wanted to talk about… With, uh, both of you.”

Enzo began to scribble down the order. He knew Alton and Nicolas’ tastes well enough without having to ask. “It’s not a chore for us to speak, Master Alton. We’ll always make time for you when you need it. Merely give me a moment to fetch someone else to take our order.” He pressed a button on his desk, which rang a bell outside.

Alton watched as someone came into the room... And he realized he had something else to dread. There were ears everywhere. He couldn’t talk openly if he wanted to. Then again, he was hesitant to find a place where they could talk. City hall may as well be the most private place that either of them went.

“Now what was it that you wanted?” Enzo stood up from his desk and moved to the sitting area of the office. He gestured for the others to join him and Nicolas plopped down on a chair.

Alton remained standing. He was suddenly tense. Speak or don’t say anything? His mouth opened for a moment before he closed it again. He had a million questions, and now that he had a chance to ask them, not a single one appeared within his mind.

“Is this a private matter?” Enzo asked. “From before you lived in Carapace?” Alton hesitantly nodded his head. “Worry not. No one should be near my office at this time. Speak freely.”

Alton clenched and unclenched his fist. “I, uh… About twenty years ago…” He looked down at the ground. “When the two of you… Here…” Alton shook his head, took a deep breath, and looked Enzo in the eye. “... Are you my father?”

Nicolas clapped his hands and stood up. “We’ll have lunch another time, Enzo.”

“N-Nicolas!” Enzo stammered out. He almost stood up, but his hands were gripping onto the armrests so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

After a brief moment of self-reflection, mostly accomplished by Nicolas rubbing the back of his head, he sat back down. “Have a seat, Alton.” He waited for Alton to sit before continuing. “... When a man and a fish love each other very much-”

“Nicolas,” snarled Enzo between his teeth. He then rubbed his temples. “Alton, the situation is complicated.”

“He means to say that he doesn’t know,” clarified Nicolas.

Enzo took a deep breath. “Master Alton, would you elaborate how you came to that conclusion? Or at least, your reasoning to ask such a question?”

Alton averted his gaze. He began to nervously rub his hands together. “The timing seemed right,” he replied. “But, uh… All of you were here? Mother? Prince Wulfric.”

“Yes, we were,” confirmed Enzo. He didn’t seem to reflect on the memory fondly. The color was returning to his hands, but he still fidgeted uncomfortably.

“The situation is complicated,” repeated Nicolas in a stern tone. His helpfulness earned him a glare from Enzo.

Enzo leaned forward in his chair. “There is a difference between what is on paper and what is reality. Legally, yes. On your Fogbloom citizenship papers, I am listed as your father. My hand was forced to make that claim so that you would be exiled from the city. Biologically,” he paused, rubbing his hand on his cheek as he did so, “your mother… Emogene went through many difficulties during her life. Neither myself nor Prince Wulfric made it any easier.”

“I don’t understand,” muttered Alton.

A cough resonated through the air as Nicolas cleared his throat. “When a woman has a particular goal, but her heart-”

“Nicolas,” hissed Enzo again. “He was talking about the exile.”

No one had mentioned exile to Alton before. He had always been convinced that he wasn’t wanted because he couldn’t use Aconite magic. Alton’s hands tightened against each other. His eyes met with Enzo’s, pleading with the man to give him the truth.

Enzo hesitated.

Nicolas sighed. He steadied himself before he spoke. “Politics isn’t as simple as having an heir. You’d think it would be the oldest son, but sometimes a man might prefer to choose his younger son because...” He debated his choice of words carefully. “... He’s part fish.”

Alton stared at them. He looked at Enzo, then looked at Nicolas. “... What?”

“Prince Duxton is Prince Wulfric’s first son, born from a… Ah, well, uh, Miss Jaida was an escort,” clarified Enzo. “She ran off with the child and none of us knew that Duxton existed until after the war. That was around the same time you were being properly introduced as a prince. Prince Wulfric wanted us to… Regardless of what he wanted, we went against his wishes and made plans to introduce him as Cornelius’ illegitimate son.”

“Wulfric was a madman,” said Nicolas bluntly. Enzo placed his hand against his forehead. “It’s the truth, Enzo. We were in denial. That denial got Cornelius and who knows who else killed. We’ve got to own up to our mistakes.” His eyes met with Alton’s as his tone grew more serious. “By that point we were already drifting away from Wulfric.

Enzo had to take care of you and your mother. The war had stranded me in Clay Region for two years. By the time we saw him again, his mind had worsened. His execution order on Duxton was the last straw for either of us. We swore to protect the two of you, even if it meant that we were permanently cutting ourselves off from Wulfric’s trusted circle.”

As though he were helping to clarify, Enzo asked Alton a question. “Do you know why Elbellziara was made the duchess?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Alton blurted out. He was getting too much information at once and only wanted to deal with one topic at a time.

“It’s proof that Wulfric was always ill,” replied Enzo. “Wulfric was obsessed with the power behind the crown. King Howell is only the second Aconite to hold the throne. His family’s grip on their status was a weak one. He wanted to make certain that there would be no question on who would be Lustro’s next king.

But, with that strength came great paranoia. He was convinced that the court would seek to replace him with either Elbellziara or Cornelius. Those of us in his entourage, myself, Nicolas, and Laurent, agreed with him. Wulfric held a firm hand when it came to power, while his siblings were more easily persuaded by the other nobles. We did what we could to expel his worries so that Wulfric wouldn’t be forced to take extreme measures.”

Alton knew some of what happened. Laurent was the Duke of Violet’s son, but he stepped down and asked his father to take Elbellziara as his heir. Odelia Arbutus, Nicolas’ aunt and a member of the Lunar Guard, became Cornelius’ bodyguard and tutor. She died at the start of the war, along with Cornelius.

“And that paranoid asshole sent an assassin after a seventeen-year-old kid,” spat out Nicolas. “Killed his own brother because he was a coward.”

Enzo shook his head. “We have no proof of that.”

“I don’t need proof. My heart knows he did it,” spat back Nicolas. He thudded his fist into his chest. “Sometimes a man’s conviction is enough.”

Enzo shared his pain and sentiments. “Regardless of what had happened before the war, we were fearful that we would see it happen again with you and Duxton. It never mattered to Wulfric if Duxton was blood. All he cared about was your heritage. Sirens are blessed with songs by Bellia. They are forced to obey the destiny that Bellia has granted them.

He believed that you were the key to a perfect royal bloodline. One that was free from being corrupted by a court. A true king who was chosen and guided by the gods. No matter how soiled he would become, he wanted you to have the crown.”

“But the court pushed for a human heir,” added Nicolas. “They wanted Duxton.”

Enzo was quick to speak up. “Though we worked hard to prove to them that you were a normal child.”

“And that’s when the court sent an assassin after Alton,” reminded Nicolas. “None of our actions were good enough.”

Alton remembered that day. It was right before he was exiled. Duxton, Shaw, and himself were at the beach together with Nicolas watching over them. A group of men came charging in on horses. Nicolas started to yell at them to run towards the water, but they were quickly cut off.

Duxton formed a defensive wall with his magic while Nicolas continued to fight them off. Shaw yelled at Alton to get down on the sand and close his eyes. All he could remember was the sounds of clashing steel and the overwhelming scent of blood. The odor that was so prevalent that it overpowered the salt of the sea.

There was a crash as Duxton’s wall broke. Shaw dove on top of Alton, keeping him buried in the sand. Alton could hear shouting as Laurent arrived, more fighting, then the sound of hooves retreating. Despite trying to wiggle free, Shaw wouldn’t let him go. Laurent and Nicolas were arguing. Their voices grew louder as Duxton also began to yell but Alton couldn’t make out what any of them were saying.

“... They were going to make sure one of us was going to die,” whispered Alton. “It didn’t matter which of us was gone. Only one of us needed to be heir.”

“You were both children,” Enzo replied. “Neither myself or your mother wanted to send you away, but you couldn’t use any Aconite magic. We had to be practical.”

“I know that, Enzo,” muttered Alton. He began to fumble his hands together again. “... Did any of this have anything to do with why all of you were in Carapace?”

Nicolas shook his head. “Emogene’s song led us here.”

“Her song?”

His mother had always told him their songs were about finding one’s soulmate. After today, he wondered why she would gain a song that had her drifting between two men. Did she love either of them? Was it all a lie? Alton clutched onto the front of his jacket. He was beginning to feel queasy.

Enzo flashed a brief, sad smile. “Your mother wanted to wait until your song was formed. We always held onto the hope that you would find a way to contact us when that happened.”

“The idiocy of you and your secrets,” argued Nicolas. “I was always telling you that you sheltered him too much.”

“Yes, but he was such an adorable child,” replied Enzo with a weak laugh. He stood up as someone knocked on the door. “I’ll help them out. No, Nicolas, stay sitting. It wouldn’t do me well to be always waited on hand and foot.”

Alton stared blankly at the floor as Enzo set up their meal. Nicolas’ loud slurping and Enzo’s conversation with his secretary were both distant mutterings. This was all too much. It was supposed to be Carapace. That’s all he wanted to talk about… But then he had to open his stupid mouth and ask if Enzo was his father and...

He struggled to remember Wulfric. In his memories, the man was always smiling. He was kind. He was a good man and would one day be a good king. That was the Wulfric that Alton had always known. Who was this madman that Enzo and Nicolas were talking about? What had happened to Wulfric to make him this way?

Enzo sat down again. “I have a half-hour before my next meeting. Let’s talk about the trip we took twenty years ago, Alton. No doubt that you’ll find it interesting.”