Never having spent an appreciable amount of time in the presence of mortals, Nethron found the company of Renkyk and Galdrehln a pleasant diversion and added experience in his existence. The brought with them an unusual cadre of friends as they cut through the wilderness. First they traveled through the north central regions of Duronaht’s lands and then through the seemingly fathomless Edgonaft Forest in the very peripheral regions of Emperor Covifaht’s lands in central Methrangia.

The forest was completely alien to Nethron, as he had ignored the creation of the world’s natural features almost entirely, even though they proved to be useful loci of the Auras as they coursed through the mortal world. It was a tangled mess as it had sprouted out of chaos, not governed by any plan, but rather allowed to spread and entangle as it pleased. Its thick undergrowth concealed any number of unusual creatures and even stranger plants. Crawlers with innumerable legs meandered through the gnarled brambles, predating rodents and other pests with impunity. Providing cover for the crawlers, plants that glowed green and blue in the light of Rithys’s moons sprawled throughout the forest’s entirety.

Nethron found it utterly fascinating and thanked Tathyk for forging such a wondrous creation. The sterile halls of Ceuna had never produce a sight like it. Even Vorlan’s sanctum was ordered and immaculate. Not like this. He considered that the angels’ minds could not conceive of the limitless ways in which life could order itself. Through all of it, he could feel the Auras’ wild and free spirit. Feeling them in this way made him lament that he had been the “Aura Keeper” and had been responsible for containing their great power.

However great their power was, it proved elusive to Renkyk and Galdrehln. The crimson-skinned Renkyk continually strained his body and mind trying to grasp control over the Auras, but he failed repeatedly. Galdrehln, too, had failed, but he had surrendered for the day and simply napped beneath one of the massive trees. His blubbery cheeks rippled as he snored.

Their labors troubled Nethron. He worried that his great gift of the unleashed Auras withered in the hands of those who knew not what they were looking for. Through his eyes, he could see the Auras almost as plainly as anything else. He only just began to realize that the mortals could not see them as he could. As Renkyk labored in the dim light, Nethron formed a bright orb to illuminate his acolyte’s surroundings. Then, a thought crossed his mind.

“What is it that you would like to do?” Nethron asked.

“I don’t understand,” Renkyk blurted back. “Do? Control the Auras, of course.”

Nethron smiled at the ignorant impudence. It was charming in its own way.

“Control… yes, but to do what exactly?” the Aura Liberator replied.

That inquiry cast Renkyk into silence. He scratched his white hair and paced for several moments. Nethron’s eyes followed his every step.

“Right now, I’d like to make some ice,” Renkyk said at last.

“Ice… a modest ambition,” Nethron replied with a smirk. He conjured a ball of ice from the moisture in the air, causing Renkyk to tap his foot impatiently. “I know that you cannot do this, but I want to explain how I think of it. I can see the Auras related to water in the air and I can focus upon them to grasp the tendrils of those Auras. For you, I think you will need something more obvious.”

Renkyk appeared insulted by the comment, but as Nethron floated toward a pool of water he followed anyway.

“I want you to look at this water. Observe as I manipulate it to my every desire. Tell me what you see,” Nethron commanded.

He twisted the water, causing it to slosh over onto other ground. Then he froze individual segments before combining those into a layered tower of ice that he returned to its ordinary state just after that. Renkyk stared with rapt attention the entire time.

“Look beyond how you think of water,” Nethron said as he continued his command of this tiny puddle. “The mortal mind is too often closed to how this world is truly constituted. Peel away what you think you see. Watch it slough away. Look at each object and lifeform down to its essence. Feel what gives it its unique qualities. My brethren wielded the Auras to create each and every object and life in this world. Once you see that, you can control them.”

As he spoke, Nethron noted that Renkyk responded by squinting his eyes and forming his hand in a claw-shaped grasp. Nethron could feel his acolyte’s excitement. A tiny pillar of water, perhaps as large as a couple of fingers, rose out from the puddle and then just barely froze. It almost immediately collapsed.

Renkyk jumped back from the puddle, his mouth gaping open.

“Was that me? You didn’t help me, did you? Tell me that you didn’t!” Renkyk blurted.

“Help you? …. No, I did absolutely nothing,” Nethron said, smiling. “It was a first step forward, a small one, but one that you can build on. Did you feel it? The Auras pulsing back at you?”

“I wasn’t sure what that was. It felt almost like they grabbed me,” Renkyk said, bewildered.

“They are both alive and not. Truth be told, I never have been sure how to think of them,” the Aura Liberator lamented. “For a time, I believed that they were an extension of the Progenitor’s spirit, but that is a thing I cannot prove true. Grabbing you… that would seem to suggest that they can respond on their own terms. Controlling all of that will take time, focus, and practice.”

Just as Nethron concluded, Galdrehln roused from his sleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Hooooo, I was out cold! What did I miss? Anything useful?” the portly man asked.

“Lots! I’ll have to show you!” Renkyk insisted, pulling his friend off toward another puddle.

Nethron watched the two labor over the puddle, trying in fits and starts to build higher and higher ice pillars. Eventually, Renkyk managed to separate his ice pillar from the water and briefly levitate it in the air.

“Ha! I did it! You see there!” Renkyk screamed in glee, drawing attention from the other followers who had slept under the nearby trees

“So you have,” Nethron commented with approval. “And you can achieve much more with practice and focus. Much more.”

Just then, the Aura Liberator felt a sickening dull pulse hit him. Vague though the sensation was, he had no doubt as to what it meant. A burst of souls traveled across the Silver Aura on their path to Ceuna, souls coming from Methrangia itself.

“Parlon. What have you done?”

~~~

Queen Evinda paced anxiously in the minutes leading up to Rohmhelt’s reception for the lords who ruled the lands to Methrangia’s northwest. At Condraht Castle, the domain of Lord Sibgehn, there was at least a suitable hall for such a grand occasion. She continued to fight Rohmhelt’s aversion to splendor. “Rule is mostly about appearances, my dear,” she tried to advise at every opportunity. “Most never feel your full authority. They have to see glimpses of it, something real, to believe in it.” Rohmhelt would always dismiss it as being naught but “silly flummery.”

Perhaps because of that view, Rohmhelt had been slow to ready himself that afternoon. Evinda told him that she would give him a short time to prepare himself before dragging him down to the hall to address the lords and ladies. She paced until the point of near exhaustion in front of the spacious study where her husband had taken refuge. As she heard escalating clamor carrying through the rough grey stone floors, her patience expired.

“I believe it’s time,” she shouted around the corner.

She heard a slow pace of footsteps come to the door. When she turned, she saw Rohmhelt hanging his head with his lips pressed.

“It won’t be that bad. I promise,” she said with forced cheer.

“It’s not that,” he mumbled. “I feel… strange. I don’t think I’m ill.”

Evinda examined him and placed her hand on his forehead.

“You seem fine,” she laughed, smiling.

“It feels like a weight is sitting on me,” he said, motioning above his shoulders and head. “I know I’ve said that before, but this time it’s much worse.”

“Would you like me to lift it off?” Evinda joked.

He rolled his eyes and then glanced toward the staircase at the hall’s end where two Solnahtern stood guard. He sighed heavily and then reached for her hand.

“I’ll endure this,” he agreed at last.

“These are your allies. If they’re to fight for you, you’ll have to at least endure them.”

He nodded and they set off for the reception, Evinda sensing a calm dread through his hands.

Evinda and Rohmhelt sat in the thrones provided by Lord Sibgehn and engaged in the same formalities with each of some two dozen local lords, ladies, and often their entire families. These conversations all followed the same general pattern with each of the nobles explaining the importance of their lands or their contributions to the Emperor’s armies. There were others present as well, including a variety of mayors, priests, and even simply wealthy merchants. Lohs struck up a conversation near the hall’s rear with a gaggle of those merchants, no doubt at ease speaking with them about matters of commerce.

Matriarch Yldrina, similarly, engaged in what appeared to be a suitably awkward conversation with some half-dozen other priests. Marshal Agrehn joined the hall after the more structured phase of the gathering had concluded and instead the lords were largely milling about. To Evinda’s surprise, the pompous marshal proved to be an able conversationalist in this context. Relaxed and affable with a quick wit, he made the rounds throughout the hall. This caused Evinda and Rohmhelt to exchange a brief glance of mutual confusion.

Evinda decided to join the festivities, descending from the elevated throne to converse with a pack of three older women who had gained their lands and titles from their deceased husbands. Their dresses all bore gilded five-pointed flowers surrounding their heraldic crests, a common feature of the central Methrangian houses. A similarly common feature, she found, was the precise cadence of their speech. Each word slid silkily into the next. At times it felt as though every single one of the ladies was merely an extension of another.

Lord Sibgehn’s eldest daughter, Wylness, however was a somewhat different creature. Standing taller than the others present and with wild blue-green hair, she possessed a different affect.

“My father’s so happy you could come, my Queen,” Wylness said in an almost whistling voice. “So happy. You could’ve chosen other castles, but you came here.”

“That decision was my husband’s, but I am glad that we did,” Evinda lied. In fact, this had been her choice, but she had to make up for Rohmhelt’s unwillingness to sell his own benevolence. “You’ve been most splendid hosts. Is there anything we can do to return the favor?”

Wylness dropped her façade of a smile.

“There is. We’re worried about this Nethron nonsense. It’s becoming a damned cult. We’re not even sure what we control anymore. Can you fix that?”

Evinda had prepared herself for any number of more banal requests, but not that matter. She had taken the view that the entire issue would clear itself once Rohmhelt and his father dealt with Duronaht. The dissidents were cowards, no doubt. They would return to the fold once the tempting offers of the traitor angels were proven to be nothing more than a hollow prize.

“We sympathize, Lady Wylness,” Evinda said with feigned sincerity. “Our first priority, however, is putting down the king’s brother. Everything should clear up after that.”

“With respect, Your Majesty, I don’t think that’s entirely true,” an old man’s voice came in from behind her. She turned to face the hunched, balding man dressed in simple grey clothes. He stood beside what Evinda presumed was his daughter, who also wore an ordinary white robe and hood that framed her thin face and pale blue eyes.

“You will have to forgive me, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Evinda said. “You are?”

“Cesord Etelet. I am the mayor of Gulnholn. This is my daughter, Lyfress,” he announced with ritual courtesy.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Evinda said. “We passed through your village on the way here.”

“I heard about it, but I wasn’t there to see it.”

“And why do you think we won’t resolve all of this once we smash the king’s brother?”

Cesord raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“It’s a bit of a long story, Your Majesty. I can share anecdotes from my region, some dozens of them. The important point is that their devotion to what Nethron has offered is far more than something that can be suppressed by force of arms alone. They truly have come to worship him and the hope he brings. You must understand it. It’s the hope that their lives, most of them miserable, could be made better with what Nethron has offered, using these Auras,” the old man explained in a wheezing voice. “Their loyalty is impervious to reason or even the presence of these vast armies. We must offer something more.”

“You make a lot of sense there,” Wylness laughed, pointing at the old man.

Evinda wanted to respond, but Lohs tapped on her shoulder to gain her attention.

“Forgive me, but I have to steal Her Majesty away from the lot of you,” Lohs said through a forced grin. The others bowed to wish her off.

As they pulled away, Evinda leaned in close to Lohs.

“What was so urgent?” she asked.

“The angel, Simel, has returned,” Lohs said grimly. “Just off the main hall here.”

Standing solitary in the hall, Simel carried a mournful look on his metallic eyes. That by itself was not unusual. In fact, anything else would have surprised her.

“I come with no warning,” Simel murmured. “The deed has already happened. It will be mere moments before the rest of you know. I only wished to be here for the king should he have need of me.”

That pronouncement struck Evinda cold. Her skin prickled and she felt her throat tighten.

“Is this…” she began to ask, but she heard frenzied shouts from the great hall behind her.

“MAKE WAY! I HAVE AN URGENT MESSAGE FOR HIS MAJESTY! MAKE WAY!” the messenger cried in a booming, yet panicked, declaration.

Evinda, Lohs, and Simel entered the hall as a central aisle cleared for the messenger. Each of the messenger’s steps appeared labored and uncertain, as though a weight rested on top of him. King Rohmhelt stood from his throne to recognize the messenger. Evinda noted that he had an eerily serene demeanor, as though he had practiced this moment before and now he was acting out a painting.

“You may speak,” Rohmhelt said over the whispering hall.

Those quiet voices fell utterly silent while the messenger caught his breath.

“It’s my miserable duty to report to Your Majesty that your father, the Emperor, is dead,” the messenger’s robust voice cracked. Gasps broke out among all gathered. All except for Rohmhelt.

The King closed his eyes briefly.

“When and how?” he asked in a steady and calm voice. Evinda, herself still shocked by the news, was deeply impressed by how Rohmhelt received the declaration.

“Not six hours ago, Your Majesty. None who saw the deed itself lived, but we know it was the traitor angel Parlon and… and…”

“Yes?” Rohmhelt asked.

“Your brother, King Duronaht of Zarmand. Not only did they kill your father, but scores of lords and ladies in Solnaht Citadel. The great keep lies in ruins.”

Evinda looked to Lohs momentarily while her husband stood motionless, commanding the hall’s attention. Lohs simply closed his eyes and muttered a short prayer to the High Angel aloud, just barely loud enough for Evinda to hear it. “Merciful Forynda, preserve us in this trial.”

“Did they escape Methrangia? The traitors?” Rohmhelt resumed posing questions.

“Yes, to the southeast with the armies of Zarmand,” the messenger responded. “The marshals commanding the Empire’s armies in Methrangia commanded me to tell you that they stand with Your Majesty, and that they have declared you the true Emperor of Methrangia! Hail Emperor Rohmhelt!”

“Hail Emperor Rohmhelt!” a cascade of cries came from the hall, first disjointed and then in unison.

The whole of the hall then dropped to a knee, beginning with the messenger. Evinda and Lohs did as well, while Simel stood with his eyes fixated solely on the Emperor. A few of the older men coughed as they maintained their kneels while the whole hall awaited a command from their new emperor. Evinda couldn’t process the enormity of what had been announced. She reasoned no one could. She could feel Lohs’s sorrow beside her. She even heard stifled sobbing from many others.

“I won’t have you kneel,” Rohmhelt declared. “Stand. You can’t fight if you’re kneeling. Stand tall and true. Every one of you!”

Confusion filled the air. None stood.

“Stand!” Rohmhelt barked again. Haltingly at first, the hall stood and awaited their next commands. Evinda watched the nervous lords and ladies look upon their new Emperor with trembling curiosity. “As your Emperor, I only ask of you to fight alongside me and purge this evil from our world. We are stricken with grief now, but that grief must give way to rage, and that rage to resolution, and that resolution to victory. With this vile deed, our foes have shown us that no act is beneath them. They are relentless. They did this precisely to bring us low. This is terror, raw fear, and they know it. The traitor king of Zarmand of the rebel angels aiding him want you brought low. They want you to kneel in submission. I want you to rise and fight!”

His voice swelled with power neither she, nor any soul gathered, had heard before. The hall responded with cheers and stomping feet. Evinda felt her heart beat so powerfully that her body shook. The entire spectacle was more than she had ever imagined. She couldn’t help but smile at her husband as he soaked up the hall’s admiration. He looked to her briefly, nodding as the cheers began to subside.

“I’m under no illusions. Our enemies have proven themselves capable of anything. They’ll wage war bitterly and brutally,” Rohmhelt warned in a grim growl. “We should expect every hardship. We don’t embark on a path of glory. No, not glory. Necessity. We will do this because we must! We see now what their world is! Dispute their rule and no one is safe! Not even the Emperor! Not even in our greatest fortress!”

He let those words hang in the hall for several moments, which Evinda surmised was to let some of the flimsier lords consider just what it was he was saying. Clever move, she thought.

“Only triumph, total and complete triumph, can liberate us from this yoke. Will you stand with me? Will you fight with me?” he asked in a voice that was more of a command than a question.

“YES!” a chorus called out from the hall.

“Will you bleed with me?”

“YES!”

“WILL YOU WIN WITH ME?” his voice swelled to fill the hall’s every corner.

“YES! HAIL ROHMHELT! HAIL THE EMPEROR!” they responded. "DEATH TO THE TRAITORS!"

Facing such a conflagration, Evinda could not have hoped that there would be a worthier man than Rohmhelt proved himself to be in that moment. Indeed, he was now the worthy king, emperor, and, indeed, husband she had always hoped he could be.