Oskar tossed and turned all throughout the night. Eventually, he gave up and got up before the first light of day. He walked through the encampment. Kjell and Even were already busy preparing breakfast. Lookouts sat on every wagon, vigilant even as their shift drew to an end. Noticing a familiar face on one of the carts, Oskar approached.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“It seems I am not the only one”, Yri answered.

Climbing onto the roof of the cart, Oskar sat down beside her and sighed. He looked out over the city of tents around them. A few shadows moved around the fires, but everything was eerily quiet as of yet. In the distance, a jagged contour separated the dark brown of the ground from the dark grey of the cloudy sky.

“No rain and no sun. Perfect weather to hunt Wolves”, Yri commented. She played with her cranequin.

“You seem restless”, Oskar prodded.

“I cannot wait to kill that human stain”, Yri grumbled.

“What was that about every life being unique and valuable?”, Oskar teased.

“Fuck off”, Yri scoffed.

Smiling, Oskar looked out along the road again. “I remember coming here as a child. My father would take me to Storhjärd for the harvest festival. There were so many people, you could barely see the road.”

“Oskar?”, Yri interrupted. “You were going to marry Thorun, right?”

Oskar nodded.

“Did you love her?”

“No”, Oskar admitted.

“Good.”

“Good?”, Oskar echoed.

“It means you will not act out of blind hatred today. You are not risking your soul in fighting Gramr.” Yri met his eyes. “I can tell it is still intact. You are like a child, so innocent”

Oskar averted his gaze. “I am not sure that that is true.”

“What do you mean?”

Oskar shrugged. “Thorun said that as well. She said that I would lead with soul, but I am not so sure.” He shook his head. “I do not think I lead much at all. She said that I would know what to do, but I do not. I have no idea. If my soul is intact, it is awfully quiet.”

Yri huffed a laugh. “No way. She actually said that?”

Oskar nodded a little.

“Wow. She must have really respected you after all, despite the name calling.”

“Little Prince?”, Oskar chuckled.

“It fits you”, Yri shrugged.

“Because I have the soul of a child?”

“Because you see the world in a way we cannot. Because you know how to connect to other people and how to genuinely care for them. You know how to love and how to be a true friend.”

Oskar looked back at Yri in surprise. “You consider me a friend?”

“I did not say that”, Yri chuckled. She playfully nudged Oskar with her elbow. “I know I can be a lot, but believe it or not, I do care about your safety. I did not want you here, but now that you are, I see you.”

“Thank you”, Oskar said softly.

“You are right about one thing, though. You definitely have no idea. You do not have a clue how much it takes to remain intact in a time like this.”

“That is probably true”, Oskar agreed.

Yri offered him her open palm. “I take your oath. For Thorun.”

Oskar placed his fingers in her hand. “I swear to you as I did to her.”

Yri stood up and the orange light creeping over the horizon caught her hair. Her entire head seemed ablaze with magic. “Let us finish this.”

“So, one last time”, Yri began. “No one tries to scale that wall. The Wolves will be expecting that, and we are not going to play into their hands. We will keep our shields raised over our heads and present a united front while approaching the gate. We do not want to stand there ramming it all day. Sylvia will bring it down with one of her fire tricks. Make sure you let her through.

“Una will cover us with the archers from Brofäste, using sticky fire to make sure the Wolves do not find the time to get clever. Sylvia has also made a new kind of projectile. It can penetrate even the thickest armour, but we only have a few dozen, so make sure you use them wisely. Pick your targets with care. If you see someone giving orders, shoot them down.

“Once the gate is down, I will lead the assault. Oskar will follow with the second troop. Whoever else wants to help us should spread out around the city and drag rats out of the gutter. Vilhelm will take charge of that and organise this heap of enthusiasts. Oskar. Do you have your shield? Both the physical and the metaphorical one?”

Oskar held up a broad steel shield and Tone stepped up to his side.

“Bothilder is with me. Afi is obviously with Sylvia”, Yri continued.

“I will serve as Una’s shield again”, Edward stated.

“Then it is settled”, Yri nodded.

“Where is Theo?”, Oskar asked.

“Right. Where is that creep? He could come in handy if there is another hollow”, Yri wondered.

“He is already at work”, Sylvia answered.

“Doing what?”, Oskar frowned.

Sylvia met his eyes, but said nothing.

“Sylvia Fri. Where is Theodorus?”

“Remember when we talked in Fristad?”, Sylvia asked cryptically.

Oskar tensed, but nodded.

“Trust me”, Sylvia urged.

“I hope you know what you are doing”, Oskar said firmly.

“As do I. Let us get going. Standing here will not make the upcoming battle any easier.”

Yri smirked. “You heard the mage.”

When Sylvia left the meeting, Yri fell into step beside her. “At least now I understand why you were so close to that creep. You were preparing him.”

“Something like that”, Sylvia mumbled.

“Ordinarily, I would demand to know what you are up to, but I trust you. I have seen what you can do. If even our skittish little prince trusts your plan, then I will not question it.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence”, Sylvia said.

“Besides, you are a mage”, Yri said, smiling over both ears.

“I am sorry I did not tell you before.”

“No, I get it. I would not tell anyone, either, if I had affinity. Not these days” Yri shook her head. “It does explain a few things.”

Sylvia came to a stop in front of her tent. Yri was still right at her side. Yri had always shown special care for her, but the sudden clinginess bewildered Sylvia. “Is there anything else on your mind?”, she asked.

“I thought I might help you with your armour”, Yri said.

“Thank you. I think Afi has it covered, though.”

“Let me”, Yri requested.

“Very well.”

“Speaking of the Wolf”, Yri commented.

Afi arrived with an armful of protective gear. “Ritva procured the best pieces she could find at short notice.”

Sylvia sighed at the pile of leather and metal. “I still think this is excessive. I will not be able to move in all that.”

“With all due respect, and in full awareness of my oath to you, I am not going to allow you to go to the front line without adequate protection”, Afi said sternly.

“For once, I agree with him”, Yri nodded. She took a hold of Sylvia's shoulder and urged her into the tent. “Come on. Let us get you geared up.”

Afi put on his own armour while Yri helped Sylvia with the straps and knots of hers. First came a layer of thick leather. An oversized chainmail shirt went over top, followed by a breast plate and shoulder guards. Sylvia felt increasingly heavy and stiff under it all. When Yri held up gauntlets, she shook her head. “I need my hands free to cast.”

“Fine. Only vambraces then”, Yri said. She pulled them around Sylvia's arms and fastened them. Then she put a helmet on Sylvia’s head, strapping it tight under her chin.

“Can I ask why you are being so attentive?”, Sylvia asked.

Yri sighed. “You know, when I found you in Surtearv, I knew at once that you would be of use. But I had no idea just how vital you were going to be.” She met Sylvia's eyes. “You are important, Sylvia. To me. To Fri. To all of Sev as it turns out. A mage breaking down the gate to the capital and crowning a new king. History repeats itself. This is a day of living legend.”

“I will not let Thorun's death be in vein. This ends today.”, Sylvia promised.

“I know”, Yri nodded. “That aside, I meant what I said”, she emphasised.

“I could get used to us being on the same page”, Afi jested.

Yri huffed a laugh. “I doubt it will last.”

“True enough.”

After double checking that Sylvia was properly dressed for her task, and that every knot was tight, Yri turned to the mouth of the tent. She hesitated and looked back at Sylvia. “Do not die today.”

Sylvia smiled. “And the same goes for you.”

Yri pointed at Afi and then at Sylvia.

“I will not allow anything to happen to her”, Afi promised.

“You know I will hold you to it”, Yri said firmly.

“If I do not return, do not kill him”, Sylvia requested.

Yri met Sylvia's eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but then hesitated. She eyed Afi for a long moment. He did not say a word.

“Yri. He still has work to do in my name if I die”, Sylvia insisted.

“Fine”, Yri agreed. Nodding to Afi, she left.

By noon, the colourful mix of trained soldiers and motivated amateurs stood ready. The capital was at least twice the size of Guldhamn, and teeming with Wolves. In the centre throned their grand prise. The high towers of the Crown Castle cast long shadows over Storhjärd. The southern gate, which Oskar’s army was facing, had been closed. Wolves were manning the walls.

“Care to give a speech?”, Yri asked.

“Not particularly”, Oskar grumbled.

“Perfect.”

Yri waved to Bothilder and he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Shields up!”

Foot soldiers pulled their shields up over their heads. Sylvia and Afi hid in their midst and they approached the city at a rapid pace. A shower of arrows greeted them halfway. Most bounced off shields or got stuck in them, but a few made it through. The injured soldiers groaned in pain. A handful dropped to the ground and their comrades stepped over them and kept going. A second shower of arrows drummed against their shields, and then they were at the wall. They crowded tightly against the barrier. Afi and Sylvia pushed through to the gate. Heavy stones were thrown down at them, smashing through lighter shields and breaking bones. Boiling hot oil followed. The screams from the soldiers who got oil on their skin rang through the fields.

Sylvia raised her hands toward the gate and focused her intent. Fire licked over the metal door, but it was not nearly hot enough to cause any damage. Sylvia tried her best to consolidate her magic, but dizziness overtook her after only a few seconds. She realised that something was hindering her magic. Perhaps Gramr had reinforced the gate somehow. A heavy object banged down on the blackstone shield over her head and Afi grunted behind her.

Sylvia gritted her teeth. She did not know what exactly was hindering her flame from burning brighter, but what she knew for sure, was that she did not have the time to collect herself. They had to take this gate down and get out of here before more people got hurt. Her soul be damned. Sylvia let the images of Rebecca's death replay in her mind. She heard the scream echo in her memory again. She rekindled the anger in her chest and commanded, “Fire!”

The fire roared up violently, lashing for the sky. Any Wolf standing on the ledge over their heads burned to a crisp in an instant. Some of the soldiers shied back at the sudden burst of flame. Their shields melted around the edges. Sylvia was pushed into the wall and Afi lost his grip on the heavy blackstone shield. He picked it up and held it toward the fire. Kneeling behind him, Sylvia stared at the roaring flames until the gate had melted out of its hinges. Finally letting go of her intent, she let the fire snuff out. The soldiers rushed past her into Storhjärd. Sylvia took a hold of Afi’s elbow to urge him back with her, but he slid down the wall and collapsed. Seeing a bolt lodged in his back, Sylvia’s eyes went wide. She grabbed a hold of his arm, trying to pull him away, but he was far too heavy.

“Afi! Come on!”, Sylvia called. She dug her heels into the ground, trying to move him. She yelled in frustration.

Afi tried to pull his arm away.

“I am not leaving you!”, Sylvia declared.

Afi lifted his head to speak, but coughed instead. Edward and Una came to Sylvia's side. They lifted Afi by his shoulders and legs and hurried out of the chaos. Squeezing between the wall and the onslaught of soldiers, the four of them made it out of archery range. They continued against a stream of incoming riders. As soon as they were out of the tumult of hooves and boots, Sylvia called Natta and Rise. Both horses came to her at once.

“Up with him”, Una urged.

Several soldiers close to them helped along. Together, they threw Afi over Rise’s back.

“Go”, Una ordered.

Sylvia mounted Natta and led both horses away from Storhjärd.

Edward and Una turned back to the battle instead. They ran into the city and climbed the stairs to get atop the wall. The blackstone arrows were far heavier than any other, but they punched straight through even the sturdiest chest plate or helmet. Among the burst of flames melting the gate, the sticky fire spreading panic, and the powerful arrows and bolts taking out commanders with a single shot, the Wolves were scrambling for shelter.

Oskar and Yri entered the city and rode straight for the castle. The doors to the Crown Castle were merely wood, and no match for a simple battering ram.

The Wolves tried to use the choke point at the door to their advantage, but Yri was having none of it. She spurred her horse on, ducked, and rode straight into the hall, ploughing through the bandits. Following her example, Bothilder charged through the crowd as well. One of the Wolves buried a sword in the side of his horse and it collapsed under him, sending him tumbling across the floor. Yri jumped down from her steed and drew her axe, fending off the Wolves who tried to take advantage of Bothilder’s surprise. Bothilder got to his feet with all haste. He drew his sword and together they gained ground. When Oskar and the rest of their troop attacked from the opposite direction, the Wolves were caught in the middle, and fell with ease.

Once they had a moment’s pause, Yri shook her head. The world was a blur around her. By Dana’s description, they had to go right from the entrance, but Yri could not identify what the front door was, not to mention draw any conclusions about their heading.

“Yri! Are you okay?!”, Bothilder called.

Yri frowned at Bothilder’s blurry shape. He raised a gauntlet to her face and Yri hissed in pain. Reaching up as well and running the tips of her fingers over her forehead, she saw her gauntlet had turned red with blood. She looked down and noticed it had dripped onto her chest. She sighed. That explained her blurry vision at least. “Right hand side from here”, she reminded.

Oskar led the soldiers on and Yri followed the stream. To the right and up a few steps, they found the throne room. Yri leaned against the nearest wall and pulled out one of the heavy stone bolts. She loaded her arbalest based on muscle memory alone.

“We should leave”, Bothilder urged.

“Just keep my back clear”, Yri grumbled. She wiped blood from her face. There was definitively more damage on the left side. Keeping her left eye closed, she regained some focus.

It was difficult to make sense of the distance, but she could see Gramr’s head peak up over the tumult of clashing swords. He was standing on the throne platform, an axe in his left hand and a sword in his right. He raised the sword toward the ceiling and closed his eyes to pray. The theatrical pose was just as ridiculous now as it had been years ago. After all the excitement, the sight of him was a disappointment.

Contrary to popular belief, Gramr was dreadfully average in person. None of the tales were true. He was on the shorter end, and he was not notably scarred or wrangled. He was just a man with long blond hair and an unimpressive beard. Yri clenched her jaw. There was nothing scary about him at all! He was nothing!

The familiar red rubies hanging around his neck made it easy to keep track of him even when the world blurred around Yri again. She raised her arbalest.

“Enough!”, Gramr called, and his sword bust into flame.

Most of the fighting stopped. The soldiers from both sides backed away from each other, and all eyes turned to Gramr in surprise.

Gramr swung the fiery sword over his head and then pointed it at Oskar. “You and me. Let us see who is more deserving of the throne!”

Oskar stepped forward to accept the challenge. When he placed a foot on the first step of the throne platform, Gramr lowered his sword, and Theodorus jumped down from among the rafters.

“Get back!”

Oskar shied back at once and Tone stepped in front of him. Gramr swung in Theodorus's direction and a wave of fire detached from the sword, flying toward Theodorus. Holding his hand out, Theodorus let the ring disarm the spell. The fire met his palm and warm air billowed his cloak. Shocked, Gramr glanced down at his sword. Theodorus tried to use the surprise to his advantage, but before he could come into striking distance, Gramr lowered his sword, letting the tip met the ground. Theodorus jumped out of the way just before jagged rocks shot up where he had been standing. Tumbling toward Gramr, Theodorus took a hold of the sword. He allowed the edge to cut into his palm to ensure the ring had contact with the metal. The fire extinguished at once. Gramr raised his axe high to strike.

Yri took her shot, hitting Gramr right in the head. The blackstone bolt punched through his helmet and skull, and peaked out the other side. The force of impact threw Gramr to the ground, but for some arcane reason, the bolt did not kill him. He tugged at his sword, trying to free it from Theodorus’s grasp. Theodorus crouched down over Gramr, brandished the blackstone dagger, and buried it in his chest. With that, Gramr finally stopped moving.

Some of the Wolves dropped their weapons in defeat. Others made a final stand. When no armed Wolf remained, a heavy silence fell over the throne room.

Yri handed her arbalest to Bothilder. “Kill them all.”

“No!”, Oskar called

“You want to question them first? I doubt they know anything that we do not.”

“We won. It is over”, Oskar declared.

Yri huffed a laugh. She pushed off from the wall, staggered across the throne room, and came to Oskar’s side. Taking a hold of his collar, she tugged him close, so close his nose nearly met her broken skin.

Yri lowered her voice to a whisper. “We are far from done with this pest. What do you reckon these bandits will do if you let them go? Hm? Return home and become farmers? Are you committed to making Sev safe or not?”

“We shall imprison them”, Oskar argued quietly.

“You know damn well that we cannot afford to keep this many prisoners so early on. There is no Royal Army. There are no barracks.”

“We will find a way”, Oskar insisted.

Yri scoffed. “Are you going to feed these rats from your plate? Are you going to watch over them yourself?”

Oskar removed Yri’s hand from his collar and straightened his back. He sighed audibly and looked around. He met the eyes of one Wolf who was clearly terrified, and quickly looked away again. Instead, he turned to Tone.

“I hate to say it, but she has a point”, Tone said.

Oskar looked to Theodorus next.

Theodorus shrugged. “What else can you do?”

Oskar hesitated. He looked around himself. Bothilder was sure to agree with Yri. Una was busy. Neither Ida nor Dana were anywhere near the capital. “Is Sylvia still outside the city?”

“Is she your military adviser?”, Yri asked sharply. When Oskar failed to speak up, she let out an irritated huff. “Are you going to start taking charge or not?”

Oskar sighed deeply. He nodded. “Do it.”

Another eruption of violence moved the room before it stilled again. Oskar inhaled sharply. He looked over the blood covered floor and shook his head in disappointment. Then, he walked up the last few steps to Theodorus and took his wrist. The cut on Theodorus’s palm was not very deep and there were no signs of burns. Yri slowly followed Oskar up the stairs while Bothilder made an unwelcome attempt to steady her.

Yri nodded at Theodorus. “Well done, Creep.”

“The same to you. That was a good shot”, Theodorus said.

“How did you manage to stop his magic?”, Oskar asked.

“Sylvia”, Theodorus answered cryptically.

“You should go find her. Something happened at the city gate”, Oskar urged.

Theodorus nodded and left at once.

Yri crouched down beside Gramr’s body and tugged the crown out of his hair. She pulled at his coat and unfastened the necklace he was wearing. Pocketing the jewellery, she stood back up. She wiped the blood off the crown and held it out to Oskar. “There you go.”

Oskar shook his head. “It is not mine. I was not the one who defeated Gramr.”

“Urgh, men and their duels. This is not about the size of your sword. No king ever crowned himself.”

Oskar still did not take the crown from her. “Then what is it about?”, he asked.

Yri frowned at him. “You tell me. You are the one who insisted on becoming a king.”

“Because my father asked me to.”

“What?”, Yri asked irritably.

“My father's dying wish was for me to attempt this feat”, Oskar explained.

“He would be proud to see you now. Or whatever it is that people say.”

“Thank you”, Oskar said sceptically.

Pressing the crown into his arms, Yri scoffed. “Be it fate or dumb luck, whatever the reason, the crown is yours now. Do not fuck this up, My King.”

Curling his fingers around the band of gold, Oskar swallowed hard. It seemed flimsy now that he held it. It was but a piece of metal with some red crystals, a piece of headgear with theatrical prongs. It was sort of ugly, really. He looked back at Yri, at the wound tearing her face apart, and the blood dripping down her armour.

“Why did you help me? Why did you take on Thorun’s oath?”

“Because Thorun ordered me to. I do not make it a habit to question her. She was a pain in the ass, stubborn as an ox, and awfully entitled, but also undeniably cunning.” Coming closer to Oskar again, Yri fixed him with her good eye. “Do not forget what was done for you here today, by Fri, by me.”

“Never”, Oskar swore. “You should seek out a healer. Surely there are some in this city”, he added.

“Do not patronise me”, Yri spat, before staggering out of the throne room.

Sylvia cleaned the wound in Afi’s back. She pulled silverwood leaves out of her bag and lay them over the opening. She placed her hands over top and closed her eyes. She had healed once before. She could do it again. She tried to imagine it, to intend it, and channel that intention, but all it did was warm the leaves up a few degrees. She stared at her hands, blood stained and trembling. All of her was trembling. She was so scared. She balled her hands into fists.

“Think. Think! Think! What did I do different?! What?!”

She reached for sap and moss, pressing it on as well. She took the next best piece of cloth and wrapped it over Afi, tying it firmly in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Blood drenched through the cloth in moments. Along with the growing red stain, realisation settled deep in Sylvia’s being. There was nothing she could do. She could not repeat what she did for Theodorus after the ambush. She did not know how. She had no idea how to mend organs, to stop the blood from seeping out. She had been so focused on figuring out how to defeat Gramr, she never bothered to investigate how that healing spell worked.

“I am so sorry.”

Afi opened his eyes and peered up at her. He was pale and sweaty. His eyes were glistening. “Do not be sorry. I am glad I could serve you.”

“I am sorry, Afi”, Sylvia repeated, tears welling from her eyes.

“Do not cry, Child”, Afi whispered. “Let go.”

Sylvia eased her hands off his back. Afi exhaled. His eyes fluttered shut and Sylvia’s went wide in horror. “No. Do not close your eyes! Afi!” Sylvia gabbed a hold of his shoulder. “Afi! Afi, wake up! Afi!” She shook him firmly. “Afi!”

Strong hands grabbed her, pulling her away from Afi’s lifeless form.

“No!”, Sylvia shouted. She leaned forward, straining against the hands that had taken a hold of her.

“Sylvia. Calm down”, Theodorus urged.

“Afi! Afi! Wake up! Afi!”

Sylvia struggled against Theodorus’s hold. Tears blurred her vision. It became harder to breathe. Theodorus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her firmly to the side so she could not see Afi’s corpse. Her breathing was laboured. Her body trembled. Theodorus squeezed her in his arms.

“Sylvia, listen! This is not your fault. He wanted to serve. He was proud to. Calm down! Please! You have to calm down!”

Despite his plea, Sylvia cried bitterly. She cried all the tears she had ever forced down, gasped all the breaths she had missed since she left her home behind. It was too much to bear. Clasping a hand over her chest, she cried out in pain. She re-lived every painful memory, every moment of worry she had ever felt. All did it crash down on her in one merciless wave. Her soul was shattering in her chest, and all Theodorus could do was to gather her into his arms and hold her.