Fornulus stared blankly at the high ceiling of his own personal chamber, leaning back so far he was almost sliding out of his chair. Munas was sitting a few feet away playing her lyre to try to take his mind off his troubles. As always, she played a relaxing, pastoral, rambling tune with no real melody, but he liked it that way. His wife and children were all he thought about these days. The way Vicca had smiled, the laughter of his sons, the way their chambers had smelled. He wished he'd appreciated them more when they were alive.

Munas helped. With her, he could forget for a while. He knew Munas wanted more, but he wasn't ready. He also knew many of the patros didn't approve of her – they wanted him to one of them. Maybe one day he would tell them to go jump on a spear and marry her, but for now, he didn't want to deal with any of it. Let Cordelian wrangle the whiners. He took a swallow from his cup. Munas helped, but nothing helped as much as wine did. He no longer enjoyed drinking, but it helped him forget. Nowadays the wine barely affected him, and he found it difficult to drink enough to take the edge off his grief. So he drank and drank trying to find forgetfulness again.

What he hated more than anything were all the people trying to pull him back into politics and scheming. He had grown to dread Cordelian’s appearances, which always seemed carry a reminder of what he'd lost, or some news of a new loss. Of course, he did love his brother and was grateful that Cordelian took on a lot of the work he should be doing. Cordelian was a loyal and faithful brother. He would have been a better Doukar than Fornulus, yet never complained about that. Still, his heart sank further when Cordelian showed up again, with the sad look. The same expression he'd had when Meronion had died.

"Who's dead this time?" Fornulus asked.

"Euphastolon, Your Exaltedness," was all he said.

Munas stopped playing the lyre and covered her face, crying or politely pretending to cry. Fornulus closed his eyes and sighed. Honestly, he didn't care if Euphastolon was dead. They had never been close, and he was a vicious, cruel little shit. What bothered him was that another member of the family was dead. Where would it end? Would it end, or would they all end up dead? His dull, grinding sense of hopelessness just kept building and building. He felt like he was looking at his life through a long tunnel. Nothing pleased him anymore.

"How?" He asked, because it seemed like the thing to ask.

"A short illness is the official explanation," Cordelian said it with an ironic twist. "Which he fell into the moment Nikolonium arrived."

Fornulus frowned, confused. Nikolonium must have gone south to see Euphastolon, although he didn't recall anybody telling him about it. Wasn't Nikolonium the new Milem now? Odd for the Milem to go so far.

Munas leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Nikolonium is the short, ugly one." She was getting good at figuring out his thoughts.

"Poor Nikolonium, after going so far to see his brother." Fornulus gestured to a slave to refill his cup.

"Many are wondering about the timing," Cordelian said.

"What about it?" Fornulus asked. He didn't want the answer.

"They are wondering if Nikolonium was responsible for Euphastolon's death. They hated each other, after all."

"No," Fornulus said, and stood up unsteadily to wave him to stop.

"Your Exaltedness-" Cordelian stopped when Fornulus stumbled over his chair and fell over. Munas and some of the attendants rushed over to help him up and back into his chair.

After he managed to catch his breath, he continued.

"No, Cordelian. I don't want to hear it. Brothers don't kill brothers. If we start thinking that way, where does it end? Do I start thinking one of my brothers killed Vicca?"

Cordelian chuckled. "Oh no, we certainly wouldn't want to even entertain those kinds of ideas, Your Exaltedness."

"Right." Fornulus was glad to move on. "Is Nikolonium coming home?"

"I have no doubt he is returning with all speed. I'm sure he is anxious to explain the events which occurred upon his arrival, just as we are all anxious to hear his explanation. Let us hope it is a good one."

Fornulus thought about for a moment. "You were close with Euphastolon. It must be hard for you."

Cordelian nodded. "It is a great blow. I am truly saddened."

Fornulus didn't think Cordelian looked sad, but his brother was good at hiding his feelings. Fornulus hadn’t seen him cry in over twenty years. He offered his little brother some wine, but Cordelian declined, saying he needed to get back to work. After Cordelian left, Munas started chattering away. She kept talking, so Fornulus started to drink more of the wine to try to drown out her voice as well. He missed the days when he could fall asleep in a drunken stupor.

Helastus was in her chambers with her older sister and her full brother, just the three of them. She and Ophelion sat on a couch together, while Pelagius sat across from them in an ornate armchair, almost a small throne. His sort of thing, in other words.

Helastus rubbed Ophelion’s back while the older girl sniffed and dabbed at her eyes again. They'd heard the news about Euphastolon in the morning, and Ophelion seemed distraught. Helastus thought she was laying it on a bit thick. There was nobody around to impress, so why was she bothering with the tears? Helastus herself didn't bother to pretend. Euphastolon was a disgusting man who got what he deserved. Helastus had seen some of the bodies of women he'd left behind him. It was a shame he'd lived as long as he did.

"I know he deserved it, and I knew it would happen one day, but still, he was my full brother," Ophelion said.

Pelagius nodded. "I understand.” He wasn’t putting on any show of grief either. He glanced towards Helastus.

"Do you think Nik did have something to do with it?" Ophelion asked.

Pel shook his head vigorously. "Of course not. Nik would never murder one of his own siblings."

But all three of them did know who would murder one of their own siblings. That thought went unsaid as they instead pretended to be a loving family. Well, Helastus wasn't in a position to judge anyway.

"He'll need our help when he gets back," Pel continued. "The court is blaming him for Euphastolon's death. Cordelian will try to use that to his own advantage."

"You're right." Ophie nodded. "No matter what the court says, we can't doubt him, even if he is, well...you know. But murder is different! He wouldn't kill someone, not even Euphastolon."

Yes, Helastus knew how Nik was. They all knew, especially Ophie, even though Nik thought he was subtle. Sometimes Helastus couldn't help but wonder what went through Nik's head. They weren't a bunch of barbarians without any sense of propriety. That problem would be solved when Ophelion went south to get married. Although she could only get married if they ever managed to end all their official mourning periods, and who knew when that would happen at this rate.

She decided to say something. "People always like salacious stories. They like to tear us down. You shouldn't listen to them."

"We have to think how to block Cordelian," Pel said. Helastus appreciated how her brother always focused on the goal.

Ophie sniffed again. "You could give Nik the position of Decim. Then he would have the power to stand up to Cordelian. It's still open, isn't it?"

Pelagius shook his head. "Cordelian would never allow it."

"Nik can stand up for himself. He'll manage." Helastus added.

Ophelion and Pel continued to talk, and Helastus let her mind wander. Meronion's cat jumped into the room through one of the windows. Meronion had never named it, so Helastus had decided to call it Loxy, after the honorable Doukar who was overthrown by the more ruthless Mekos the Magnificent. Loxon the Just had raised Mekos up, never realizing he was cradling a snake to his bosom. It seemed appropriate.

Loxy wasn't the only thing Meronion had left behind: there were the two girls as well. Helastus made sure to visit them regularly after Meronion's death, more than Ophelion in fact (no surprise there). She wasn't good with children, or with people in general, but she wanted to make sure to connect with them as much as possible. Eventually they would start asking questions about their mother, and Cordelian might decide at any moment to cut that off at the root. Something needed to be done about them, but neither she nor Pelagius were yet sure what. They were still just little children, after all.

She turned back to comfort Ophie some more, as the older girl had decided to be sad again. Helastus had trouble dealing with her sometimes. Ophie had known for a while now what had to happen eventually, how this would end. Yet there was still this song and dance with the tears and the hugs and the hoping everything would somehow magically turn out alright. It was rich given Ophelion's own contribution to their cause. But then, Ophie always wanted to be the good girl, the caring one. She had her niche, and Helastus had hers. She was the quiet one, the forgotten one. She wasn't as popular as Ophelion, she was awkward when socializing, and had interests that others didn't understand. She had her mind though, and her brother, and sometimes an unassuming reputation could be useful. Those who stood out drew enemies. She and Pelagius would be the ones to see this through.