“There you are!” Dalius said.

Martin glanced up from his book. He was in the reading room of the High Elder’s library, which was in the basement of the Cathedral. There was a reading pedestal in the library itself, but he preferred the reading room next to the library, as it had more lanterns to read by.

Dalius closed the door, blocking off the four guards at the door who made sure no one but the High Elders entered. Cristoval was most likely left upstairs with another guard. “How can I help you?” Martin asked.

“When are you meeting with Indenuel?” Dalius asked.

“Fadrique is tomorrow. I’ll be the day after that,” Martin said.

Dalius sat in a chair across from Martin. “Would you say you have a good relationship with Indenuel?”

“I’d like to think it’s starting to grow.”

“He’s hiding something from us. I want you to try and figure it out.”

Martin stared at Dalius before putting a marker in his book and setting it to one side. “I’m not sure-”

“He described to me how the demons react around the Day of the Devil. They react to him like a murderer.”

Martin sighed, leaning back against his chair. “I’ll do what I can, but confession must be a voluntary thing. Especially when he doesn’t have a mark on his chest.”

“I don’t like that the Warrior is hiding things from us.”

Martin gave Dalius a pointed stare. “And what exactly do you think he’ll do if we tell him about this?” He gestured to the door to the library right behind him.

Dalius pointed at the door. “That is different.”

“Oh, is it? You are hiding your own dark secrets from him. Maybe if you come clean to him that would make it easier for him to-”

“Enough,” Dalius quietly, glancing at the door where the guards were standing. Martin doubted the guards would overhear anything, but with how quiet the reading room was, it was hard to tell.

“We’ve got to tell him eventually,” Martin said.

Dalius pressed his lips together so tightly they almost disappeared before he stood up and left the room.

***

Indenuel struck harder than usual at practice the next day. He spent the entire morning listening to Fadrique passive aggressively correcting everything about Indenuel’s weather control. He did his best to not let it bother him, but it did. Fadrique reminded Indenuel of Andres in all the worst ways.

Captain Luiz blocked another blow from him, looking surprised. “Indenuel?”

He stepped away as he wiped the sweat on his brow. “Just some things I’m working through.”

“It’s not wise to work through something while slamming sharp objects with another human being,” Captain Luiz said.

Indenuel sighed, then sheathed his sword. “I’m sorry. It’s all still a bit of an adjustment. I’ll be fine.”

Captain Luiz nodded. “Ah, I see.” Indenuel fiddled with his sword as Tolomon again worked on knocking out every soldier in the field. “Your skill at memorizing the stances and playing them out is quite remarkable. By the middle of next week, I’d like to see how you do with combat style fighting.”

Indenuel winced. “Really? You think I’m ready for that?”

“We’ll start with once a week. To tell you the truth, despite the hope you’ve brought, Kiam is making a huge push to break farther into Santollia. We’ve got them contained on the southern side of the country for now. I don’t want to worry you, but I want you to be prepared, just in case.”

He nodded, trying not to let the nerves get to him. Captain Luiz went back to basic stance. “Shall we have another go?”

Indenuel pulled out his sword. “Alright.”

***

Indenuel only had to see the fog to start looking for Garen. Honestly, for anyone, but he hoped it was Garen. He picked up his pace, trying to see when he almost ran into him. Garen was kneeling on the ground, smiling as he slowly stood up. “Ah, it worked! It is so wonderful to see you again.”

Indenuel rubbed his arm, feeling guilty but knowing he had to have this conversation. “Garen, I… I have some questions.”

There was knowledge in his smile. “I know. I didn’t realize until you left the kind of situation this has placed you in.” He gestured to Indenuel to come closer. “Ask your questions. Write down what I say the moment you wake up. Keep careful notes of everything I say and study them to find any inconsistencies. Keep asking me the questions, cleverly ask me contradictory questions to see if I trip up. You’ve got to make sure I’m not a demon.”

Indenuel physically relaxed. He was happy Garen was so understanding about this. “Thank you. I know you said you had questions of your own, though.”

“I do, yes, but they can wait. I’ve met with you twice now, if we don’t get to mine, I assure you I will come again and ask them.”

Indenuel nodded, gathering his questions. “So, you have the gift of speaking to the dead?”

“A Seer. That’s what we call ourselves in Oraminian,” Garen said.

“And you never tried to contact us?” Indenuel asked.

Garen shook his head, his face falling. “I did. I contacted your mother a few times after I died. But she never mentioned you. I knew nothing about you until you were presented at the Cathedral and I heard her name again.”

Indenuel frowned. “She never mentioned you came. I… I don’t understand. Why did my mother lie to me?”

Garen let out a breath as he rubbed his chin. “I am just as confused as you, Indenuel.”

Indenuel nodded. Sometimes a demon would create an elaborate story to make sure they had an answer. Sometimes admitting lack of knowledge was an indicator of true intent. And sometimes it was also an easy answer. Indenuel honestly hated playing this game.

“Is it because you’re Oraminian? Is that why she never told me?” Indenuel asked.

“Maybe. She didn’t act ashamed when I was with her, but I am sad to say the persecution shoved on her by my own people was not fair,” Garen said.

“So, she left one town of persecution for another?” Indenuel asked.

“When I came to visit her after I died, she told me she left because our…” Garen tried to find the words that left him. “The laws of… Oraminians aren’t allowed…” Garen shook his head, rubbing his eyebrow. “You’re almost twenty, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, so we loved each other, and she wasn’t allowed to marry me, which meant we couldn’t...”

Indenuel smiled ever so slightly. Considering how Mountain Pass loved to remind him of who he was and what his mother did, it was almost refreshing to see such hesitancy. “You slept with my mother outside the bounds of marriage,” he finished for him.

Garen gave a tiny smile. “Yes. I did. A… a few times. It was…” Garen cleared his throat. “Anyway, I should have realized she could have been pregnant, but I was more afraid my town figured out the extent of our relationship and drove her out of town. Many of my people didn’t look kindly on Santollians.”

“Yes, I had a question about that too. She didn’t give birth until she was in Mountain Pass. If she really did run away and hope to start a new life, wouldn’t she be terrified if I was born with blue eyes? Wouldn’t she at least wait until I was born to check my eye color before moving to a new town?”

Garen nodded. “An excellent question, with a simple answer. You see, there is a long-standing tradition that our blue eyes have some great importance, that God has given them to us to treat as sacred. Our blue eyes do not get passed down if we… if we sleep with anyone of a different race, and we must keep them pure.” He pointed to the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Hence the reason why we have such strict laws about marrying or sleeping with people of a different race, and why Lucia was so persecuted when our relationship was discovered. Lucia knew about this, which is probably why she felt safe enough to…” Garen paused, then looked away.

“Safe enough to run away from you?” Indenuel asked.

Garen nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“Why did she?” Indenuel asked.

“Safety. For me, for her, for you,” Garen said.

Indenuel rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, our treatment in Mountain Pass wasn’t all that great either.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Garen couldn’t look at Indenuel, a genuinely troubled expression on his face. “I honestly had no idea. I would have come help but-”

“I guarantee that would have made it worse,” Indenuel said. “So my mother told you nothing about me?”

“No. Nothing. She must have hidden you because you were the Warrior,” Garen said.

“Why, though?” Indenuel asked. “Do you have any idea why?”

Garen chewed on his bottom lip as he thought. “It might have been because she wasn’t supportive of the war. She had a soft spot for us Oraminians. Did she talk about her grandfather?”

Indenuel let out a tiny laugh. “Yeah. Yeah she did. Sometimes when I do something particularly stubborn she used to call me Eskmenmar. That was his name.”

Garen smiled wide, chuckling. “Do you… do you know the Oraminian language?”

“No, I don’t,” Indenuel said.

The smile grew. “Eskmenmar means bringer of peace in our language.”

Indenuel found himself laughing. “Really?”

Garen laughed again as he nodded. “It is funny the way God works.”

For the first time in days, Indenuel felt himself relax. The fog continued to drift, even though he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t smell, he couldn’t taste, he could only see and hear. There was a quiet humming all around him. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them. For once in his life, after meeting a practical stranger, Indenuel was relaxed in his presence. That too had to be a sign.

“I guess my mother didn’t talk much about the war,” Indenuel said. “No one in Mountain Pass did. We just grew crops to help the efforts.”

Garen nodded. “I am sad Lucia left without a word, but I understand why she did. To be pregnant with you, half Oraminian, half Santollian, it would have been too much for you to bear. I cannot believe the shock Lucia must have received when she realized you were destined to be the Warrior, too.”

“I still don’t understand why she kept that secret,” Indenuel said.

“I don’t either,” Garen said. “Granted, in the War of Four Nations, maybe she was hesitant to reveal you because you would end up fighting us.”

Indenuel’s heart chilled. He had to look away, gathering his thoughts. “And after? When the war with Kiam was getting worse? Why did she hide me?”

Garen gave a sigh as he tried his best to think things through. “I truly don’t know. As I said, she always had a soft spot for us, and if she caught wind of how we’re still being treated, then she might have kept you hidden from the High Elders out of spite.”

Indenuel frowned. “Wait, what? How the Oraminians are still being treated? What does that mean?”

Garen looked hesitant. “She must not have known, then.”

“Are your people being mistreated?” Indenuel asked.

Garen ran his hand through his hair again, looking concerned. “Look, Indenuel, we were pressured to become Santollian allies in the War of Four Nations. Almost threatened. And it hasn’t been easy since. Santollia has clearly treated us like an afterthought, using us to gain whatever power they need in order to win this war.”

Indenuel winced. He was again reminded of the drunk, Lucas, and the uncomfortable feeling in his gut that came from acknowledging that other people had an opinion on this war different from his own.

“We’re trying,” Indenuel mumbled.

The room began to darken. Garen nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry if I troubled you into waking up.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. A good reminder that it’s not just Santollia at war right now.”

Garen nodded. “I’ve done this twice now. I will see you again. I promise. Write down what I say.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember.”

“I’ll come visit as much as I can.”

Indenuel opened his eyes. It was still dark with those curtains. He climbed out of bed and pulled the curtain back, seeing the lonely son close enough to the horizon. Indenuel grabbed all the curtains and pulled them before he got himself dressed. He sat in a luxurious chair, waiting, watching the sunrise from his glorious room with the many windows. He might as well be sitting outside. He ran the conversation over in his mind, keeping it fresh.

Pablo knocked on the door, and Indenuel called him in.

“Morning sir. Looks like you’re already up,” Pablo said.

A tiny smile crossed his face before he got out of his chair. “I had a great rest, and it’s been a few days since I’ve seen the sunrise.”

“A glorious morning, indeed,” Pablo said as he handed Indenuel a paper.

“Could I have some writing instruments be brought here to the room? There are some things I’d like to write down.”

“Of course, sir.”

Pablo left, and Indenuel couldn’t help but smile as he opened the note. It was from the children, talking about the new sights they were seeing in the new town. Pablo returned with a small table with ink, quills, and paper.

“If you’d like, sir, I could set up a map so we can track their movements, to show how much closer they’re getting to Santollia City,” Pablo said.

Indenuel’s eyes brightened. “Really? Can we? That would be amazing!”

“It shall be done by tonight. Would you like the writing table here?” Pablo asked.

“Yes, please!”

When Tolomon walked in with the other servants, Indenuel finished writing the conversation with Garen down and put it in his pocket. He’d have to find somewhere to hide it, as he didn’t want any servants to stumble on it.

The servants brought breakfast as Pablo went through the agenda of the day. Indenuel was distracted, trying to remember what day it was. He was looking forward to his day off.

He had a lot of thoughts as he rode in the carriage with Tolomon, who remained quiet. Maybe he didn’t want to be a bother. He kept glancing out the window, taking in the possible threats.

“Tolomon?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes?” he asked, his gaze fixing on something before moving on.

“I, um,” Indenuel rubbed his hands together as he shifted in the ridiculous luxury of his seat. “I wanted to say sorry. For how I’ve been behaving the past few days.” Tolomon tore his gaze from the window to stare at him, a curious look on his face. “I feel like you’ve tried to reach out to me, and I’ve shut you down.”

Tolomon’s nod was slow. “I should apologize too. Honestly, us being friends has made it difficult for me to remember you are a higher class than me.”

“Tolomon-” Indenuel started to say.

“And I need to be respectful of you, just as I would anyone else in the upper class.”

“But you’re right. I was, and still am, being a stubborn ass,” Indenuel said.

Tolomon gave a half smile. “Another quality that comes with being in the upper class.”

He snorted. “Can’t argue with that. Sorry, all the same. It’s been close to a month and a half, and I’m still trying to figure things out with my new position. As much as this pains me to say, please continue to tell me when I’m being an idiot. I can’t let this get to my head.”

Tolomon let himself smile. “I’ll try not to let this new power go to my head either.” He glanced out the window again. “Does this mean you’re going to confess, then? To Dalius?”

Indenuel couldn’t stop himself and winced. He looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingers over his palms. Tolomon’s gaze landed on him again. “I’m not a murderer.” Indenuel met his gaze. “That much is true. We were in a bad place, forced to do bad things, and being forced to do those bad things we accidentally did something worse. It was a mistake. A bad one, mind you, but I swear, it was just an accident.”

“But it is as Dalius said? You’ve hated your village for a long time?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel said nothing for a moment, looking back down at his hands. “Let’s just say I didn’t feel too much remorse when the man in my village was found dead.”

“You should be telling Dalius this.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. Outside the window of the carriage were the stone steps leading up to the Cathedral. “Maybe. One day. I’m not ready yet.”

Once the war is over. Once the children are mine. Once I know I will never see Andres and Lola again.