They entered one by one into a squared storied room. The surrounding lines of men stood rigid beside them. Before them sat a man that dwarfed Ircham, not by height but sheer bulk. He sat upon his own wooden throne, simple and straight cut, akin to dwarven making. Thael glanced to the stairways at each side leading to an open level lined with pointing flatbowmen.

A hearth blazed and belched behind the throne, casting the man in shadow for all its light. The man leaned forward and his face was revealed in the fire’s orange glow. His head was shaved by his front, greyed black hair knotted into a thick tail draped over one round shoulder. His silk green nightgown was half tied, showing his falling paunch. Catlike eyes flicked from Thael to the next, mouth stern under his cropped beard. Harken Jao in the flesh, or excess of it. His lips curled upwards into a knowing smirk.

“It is bad manners to call for a man when he sleeps, but I can make an exception for you, Thael. The Last Whisper. Reaper of Many. The Kingmaker.” His voice was a low thunderous rasp. “Ah, and Verena. As ravishing as ever. Too skinny for my tastes but regardless. What a curious assortment of individuals you have brought before me. No doubt all here to rescue the Prince, hmm?”

Verena stepped forward, flatbows trained down upon her.

“You are well informed, Jao,” she said. “So well informed, that Thael wished to find you and ask you of the Prince’s whereabouts.”

Jao rested his head back against his throne, sinking once more into flickering shadow. “You kill my men and think to ask me a favor? How tactful of you, Thael.”

Thael shrugged. “They attacked us.”

“Not how my man’s story went, but he has paid with his life for his carelessness. I know you want information. And each word given is a priceless thing to your Arch King.”

Verena nodded, “The Arch King is prepared for such an agreement. If you know of the Prince’s location, simply name your price.”

The shadows of Jao’s eyes narrowed to darkened slits. “Do not play games with me Wraith, I know of the devices you use to communicate with. I will speak with him myself.”

Verena reached within her cloak and drew out her Scryer, opening it and placing it on the floor. A moment passed, the Scryer then flashing Krystos’ dishevelled appearance.

“Verena?” The Arch King asked. “Who is this?”

“Your Wraiths are with me, my liege.” Jao stood up and walked over to face the Mirage of Krystos. “I am Harken Jao. They have told me I am to simply name my price in giving the location of your Prince.”

“Name it.”

“Unfortunately this information is not known to me. But I do know how to find him, and aid in his rescue. My price is but to become a Minister of Dres Laneith.”

“It shall be done, once my son is saved.”

“There is one more thing.” Jao said. “I wish that the election of chairs does not apply to my position as Minister, and for my line to supersede my position should I die.”

“Granted, at least for your position. How can you be sure though, Harken, that I will be even able to honor our agreement?”

Jao belted with hearty laughter then, “You are quite right, my liege! But there are winds of war brewing over Dres Laneith, and they will not rest even after the Prophecy has ended, no? It seems the Accords have finally come to an end, your legions marching ever closer, yes? The beginning of a new age, an age of a unified Empire. I only wish to be a part of such glory.”

“You make a convincing case, Harken Jao. Do whatever necessary to see that vision fulfilled, with my son.”

“It is settled then,” Jao grinned. “I shall aid your Wraiths in rescuing the Prince.”

Krystos nodded, “Do so and you shall be Minister.” The Mirage blinked out of existence, Verena shutting and pocketing the Scryer.

Jao sauntered over to Thael. “You were wise to see me, Thael. How many years has it been? Decades? I admit, time has worn my memory. Nevertheless, I am tired. I shall rest, as will we all.”

Thael stepped towards Jao, his Jinnto beside half drawing their blades. “We don’t have the time, Jao. We need your information. You know as well as I that the Prince has no less than two sunrises before he is sacrificed.”

Jao gave an easy smile, “If I were sensible I would kill you all and take those Mythic artifacts of yours. You presume much for a man whose life is not is not in his own hands. We will rest, and I shall tell you of my plan in the morn. And wash yourselves before we meet again, or I will be gravely disappointed."

Jao turned and waved them away, the surrounding men escorting them up the stairways. Thael and Verena crossed to one hall, the others being led to the opposite staircase. They walked past the corridor through frames of circled wood, carved into ornate designs of Haolan craftsmanship.

One man in front opened a door, a four posted bed taking little space, such was the room’s size. One window allowed the moon’s light to sweep past the half drawn curtains and paint the floorboards with soft white.

The man nudged his head to the door. Thael entered, and after Verena the door shut with a resounding clicking of its lock. Thael scrubbed his hands in a nearby washbasin holding a bucket full of bubbling tepid water, a bar of lye soap floating within. He washed his blood smeared face, eyes stinging from the lye, Verena doing the same after him.

He unbuckled his leather vambraces and tore down his boots. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Verena took off her own gear, scoffing, “Don’t be a fool, Thael. We’re going to fuck, and may as well. Last fuck before we die, perhaps?”

She pulled up her long shirt and unfastened her belt, pants falling down and laid down upon the plush bed. Her copper skin shone with the moonlight, pert breasts dotted a darker brown, sinewed body same as ever. Grey eyes shining she murmured, “For old time’s sake.”

Thael’s clothes fell with her own.

“For old time’s sake,” he agreed. Thael fell upon Verena and she shoved her mouth against his, nipping his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he grunted, touching his bloodied lip, to which Verena grinned.

Thael growled and held her down, already hard and entered her, already wet. She gasped and cradled his backside, yelping as he thrust into her, her pushing back against him. Her crossed legs wrapped over his back, and as soon as it had begun Thael grunted and convulsed against her, resting off to one side. Verena patted Thael’s shoulder.

“Well,” she sighed. “That was rather pathetic."

Thael's heavy breath grew to silence.

"You really spent all those years alone, up in that cabin." Her hand wandered down his back, tracing over his scars. "Is that what you fought for, all these years? To live alone, and eventually die alone?"

Thael shrugged off her touch.

"We made our choices. I left. You stayed with Krystos.”

“Do you think it’s easy; always looking over your shoulder, never trusting anyone, and those you do come to trust wither away before you?” She pressed her warm body to his. “If I’m going to die tomorrow, I may as well come at least once. You owe me that, you bastard.”

Thael turned to her, burying his head into the crook of her neck whilst spreading her legs. After a time spent they collapsed in each other’s arms, falling aslumber.

Thael drifted from a deep darkness, yet was pulled back into a dim room; caught in the corners of his memory and held together by harsh scented candlelight. Thael knew it all wasn’t real, but it felt alive just the same. Women, low cut dresses crying and huddling over another woman, her face broken and bloodied past what was once familiar. He knew her, yet her face was lost and muddled like a half-blemished painting. Thael reached out to shake her but she would not answer nor stir. He willed her to life, to breathe. She remained bloodied skin and broken bone.

An argument broke out between a man and the women. The man had other men with him, shining armor and screeching swords. Women screamed then. Women died with her. One woman fell to the floor, her face staring at him, mouthing feeble words, “Hide, Thael.” Others ran half naked shrieking past the corridor. Thael took a knife glinting in the kitchens, dull yet pointed just the same. He skirted down the blood smeared halls he knew like his own skin and hid underneath a bed.

After the screaming died to choked weeping the man entered a carriage outside. Thael followed, darting past shadowed corners, climbing up walls and crouching behind a fenced house, vast and unfathomable. He climbed up the ivied brick wall, blunt edged knife bitten between his teeth, entering through an open window. It was a cool night. The moon shone bright and clear in the window.

The man was in his bed, with another woman. Thael stood over the man, the knife in one hand. A moment passed, a precipice to fall and never return from unknown depths.

He rammed its pointed blade through the man’s throat and twisted it free; eyes now open, sudden and floundering. The woman stirred, and before she could scream Thael leaned over the man and stabbed her through her throat as well; once, twice, thrice, and again until she lay still, the man writhing and watching the whole while, still choking on his own blood. Her flooding lifeblood leaked to the floor, her swollen belly pale and clean from the black red depths. The man continued his soundless cries, grabbing Thael, and he plunged the knife through his chest and gut until he wracked and shuddered, bulging eyes flinted blue shards; unseeing, all knowing.

Thael opened his near black eyes, taking a slow breath.

The window shone in the white light of the morn. When the door opened, Thael and Verena stood there in wait. The Jinn swallowed his surprise at their appearance and beckoned for them to follow. They tread past the same narrow hallway, down the stairs to find Ircham, Nireih, and Shercagh waiting below alongside their own escort. They were led to another hallway to what could only be the dining hall. An intricate patterned carpet that had no doubt taken years of Umbran making covered the floor, fine gold threaded tapestries of distant wars in history hung over the walls, a line of armed men as blinking statues at each side.

Jao sat at the head of a long table, wooden round plates topped with steaming meats and dumplings of traditional Haolan cuisine, wafting spices searing the nose and throat. The one eyed man who had taken their weapons sat alongside him.

“Ah, friends, please, sit with me. It is best we all had a fine rest, no?” he grinned to Thael.

“We came here for the Prince, not to break bread,” Thael stated.

Jao leaned forward, gold-ringed stubbed fingers woven together, hiding his face save for his dark gleaming eyes. “You will eat with me, or I will feed you your own tongues,” he said with casual candor.

Thael sat down to Jao’s right, Verena facing him, the others joining the table. There was even a special seat offered to Shercagh, a steel stepped high chair of dwarven proportions. The dwarf propped himself up and began to pile his plate with nearby food.

Jao sheared off a slice of ham, forking a piece into his still chewing mouth. He swallowed before he spoke, “I am a different man now. But you know our plight, don’t you, my brother? Brothers not by blood, but from knowing you are genshu, a half breed. Torn between two Realms, never belonging to any one people. Having to dig through all the filth. All the shit, just to claim some part of the world where people would rather cart their shit elsewhere.”

Thael shrugged, “Speak for yourself.”

Jao tutted in Haolo, “Aya, you always were a proud bastard. To bring all Haolo people together in Dres Laneith much blood was given, and I fear I no longer have the strength to bury my hands in it. That task, I give to my son, Shen.” He flicked a hand to the one eyed man sitting beside him. “He will aid you in recovering your Prince.”

“We do not know for certain where the Prince is held,” Shen said, voice soft spoken as his father’s. Where there was a false humor from Jao he seemed in eternal wait, a wolf’s maw closed, at least for the moment. The beast’s offspring not needing to hide its true nature, its bloodied teeth. Thael met his cool gaze, or half of it. Shen gave a slight nod, “I have heard much of your exploits from my father, Thael Tanaka. To see the Kingmaker myself, I am a bit… disappointed. Though I look forward to seeing you work.”

"What is your plan," Thael stated.

"The Ministers of Dres Laneith have not announced a decree for near a month, even before the siege of the city." Shen plucked a pickled small onion the size of his remaining eye and chewed over it. "It is our belief that the Ministers have been scattered throughout Dres."

"How can you be sure of this information?" Verena questioned.

"I assure you, we are well informed. Did you not say so yourself, Verena Hargraves?"

“Very well,” she said. “No doubt they are each heavily guarded, with blockades at every closest street.”

“You are quite right,” Shen agreed. “We have located one such Minister in the central district, Theobald Menialus. He is hidden within an inn, The Amiable. He is a man of… considerable appetites. Servants ferry wagons of food and whores into the inn. That is how we shall pass through the blockades.”

“Getting out will be another matter,” Verena stated.

“The Ring is closed off except for such food supplies and other needs of the highborn. Our escape will depend upon us all. There is a safehouse in the district I will lead us to should we be successful.”

“And what would happen were you not to be successful? Where would we know where this safehouse is?” Verena pressed on.

Shen gave a closed smile. “Then, its location would die with me, and you would be trapped within the district.”

“You told the Arch King that you would provide us with whatever aid,” Verena shot to Jao. “Can you not smuggle your men into the central district?”

“The Ministers and I have an agreement,” Jao replied, swiping one corner of his lip with a handkerchief. “We Jinnto stay within our territory and they do not enter ours. When a man’s influence reaches past his own he is watched not just by his actions, but his people’s as well. They would recognize my men through whatever subterfuge used. You are, unfortunately, alone in this endeavor. Make sure my son stays alive, for all your sakes.”

“Our working together must be built upon trust,” Verena said. “Without it this mission will not succeed.”

Jao grinned. “Yet here we are. At the precipice of a Prophecy that may or not be true, a city soiled in fear, trapped between the crushing forces that come to claim it. It is a tinder that has been long set to burst aflame, and I have waited too long to see it.”