"It is your move,” Malniza mouthed silently, his lips barely traced the words more as a formality than a reminder. His opponent knew it was her turn.

The commander’s normally empty quarters was now populated by a small table in the center. Upon that table beings of carved stone fought an imaginary battle on a board. Those familiar with the human game of chess would recognize pawns to be detailed Elven soldiers lacking any clear insignia. They could be thought to be of any regiment within reason except the Chosen Ones. The king was represented as a set of six wings and the queen a dragon. Sorcerers stood in the place of bishops and wolves as knights. Rooks were more heavily armored soldiers, remenscent of Vernigen’s Chosen Ones or Malniza’s Honor Guard.

He avoided mimicking his usual opponent, Odlig, from back in their earliest games when the commander of the Undying would inform Malniza how many turns the Honor Guard had left before he lost. That habit thankfully eroded away with time. Malniza played to the end regardless of whether or not he was told it was a doomed endeavor, barring interruptions. There were no consequences, so the game itself was the allure, no point in spoiling it with a surrender, denying himself the chance to learn from his mistake and Odlig a rightful victory.

His current opposition, Elda, gnawed at the edge of her thumb. Malniza thought for a moment she might rip her thumbnail off before she brought her teeth nearly to the joint and bit deep. The fact she did not even flinch as she drew blood made him question her amplified sense of pain for a moment.

Her pronounced fanglike teeth reminded him as they often did of a carnivore. To that day, he made comparisons of her to a myriad of beasts. He knew her to be connected to other creatures but he was unsure what aspect she drew kinship from. He still did not fully accept her title as the Thrush fully befitting her. He would think she was a predator but animals showed no hostility towards her so either her nature was more subtle than his own or of a different aspect.

That she was granted the name of a bird as a title spoke of an unique insight of her nature on the king’s part yet a thrush perhaps also hinted at a distinct paternal blindness to her dangerous aspects.

The king also nurtured certain traits. Ordelas gave her almost everything she asked for with only the slightest push from her. Whether he knew it or not, the king rewarded her for being blunt. Honesty was a precious value but recklessness was not.

The king spared every effort to make her tame. Elda was left with few constraints to rebel against if she did possess such a drive. She was an uncaged bird as she was named. However, perhaps the lack of established limits made choosing a purpose all the more difficult.

As spontaneous as she might seem at times, she was a thinker. Her thoughts moved at such a rampant pace, she seemed to be mindlessly acting out when in actuality, she already reached her decision in the time it took for others to process it. This game forced that aspect of her to surface for all to see as here she was in a situation Malniza knew she could not win. There was no decision to make so she sought out a solution rather than concede.

Malniza compromised with her that rather than fight a duel that their conflict be settled with games. The fact that Malniza lost a grand majority of the chess games he played left others sometimes to misinterpret that as he was inept at such games.

There was a report he needed to give to Ordelas soon as well but he could pass the duty to another Honor Guard if he had to entertain Elda. Both tasks were important to the king, the report being the more immediate as the king was anticipating news but Ordelas’s current instructions with Elda already strained the king so Elda was the more impactful of the two by Malniza’s reckoning.

Indeed he once was but what needed to be considered was the detail that Odlig was the very best at games of strategy and Malniza spent centuries playing against him.

He used moves that he had experienced Odlig use against him. Elda’s thought processes were similar to his own, straight forward, so he responded with maneuvers he himself lost to. In that regard his arsenal of countermeasures was numerous indeed.

He dismantled her offensive and broke her set up apart turn by turn. He lost several valuable pieces at first but proceeded to trade them for even more for lack of a better word “powerful” ones. He eliminated key participant, set his in positions where she would have to choice to abandon one asset in order to save another, and watched over entry and exit points so that if she moved her remaining force the way she wanted to they would be intercepted immediately by his own.

All those methodologies were those he would rarely deploy on the battlefield. Scéadu once commented that if Malniza led his soldiers as well as he guided the pieces, he would indeed be worthy of the title of commander. However, his soldiers were not objects to be traded for others, nor were they so fragile as to break at an enemy’s first attack. Even if they were, he would not be so willing sacrifice their flesh and blood as he would stone ornaments. He indeed led them to die but he did not ask them to die, he asked them to fight alongside him and the price of duty and honor proved steep.

He was glad most of his fellow commanders were of similar mind. Whatever Scéadu meant by his words, he valued his Shadow Legionaires with no small pride, they were named after himself after all. Odlig actually begrudged Malniza his losses, as Odlig preferred pragmatism to glory. The only one remaining among them that might carelessly discard those beneath them was Kírous.

He could see the activity behind her roving eyes as her amber eyes darted from piece to piece erratically in search of an escape.

If he had been playing against Odlig, it would have been Malniza’s turn again but he did not expect Elda to abide by the customs of the commanders. Instead he let her stew in thought.

The battlefield did not wait for someone to make a decision so Malniza abd Odlig made a rule if either failed to complete their move in five heartbeats, it would become the other’s turn. If they felt like avoiding all conversation, they could make it three heartbeats or even less. In such games, the board was filled with nonstop activity as they moved the pieces at alarming rates.

Odlig was undoubtedly the better at such games but he was also a thinker. Malniza thrived under such a lightning fast pace once he learned the rules. Every now and then, Malniza would win, Odlig perhaps not having enough time to fully grasp the layout of the board.

Such a game was something the two could do with ease if they lacked the time to spar. Any decent duel of theirs required half a day and Malniza in particular had difficulty securing such time away from Ordelas to the point they would often sparred in Malniza’s quarters just beneath the throne room. However, such fast games only required a fraction of an hour.

This game was developed by a people who fought wars of attrition. Dark Elves could ill afford such warfare. To him, this was just a game, not an exercise. He was the type to be in the front line and unfortunately rarely had a moment to perceive a battlefield in its entirety like a bird would.

The alienness of the scenario made him view it as a game rather than a viable learning tool. He never knew a battlefield where both sides were equally numbered and waited courteously for each other’s decisions. He doubted even the nation that conceived the game knew such combat.

He tried to imagine what it was like to have a mind that operated in the present like those from foreign soil. Elves remembered the past as if it was recent and the future did not seem so far. What might have been embers for a grudge could swiftly kindle into a rage.

To mortals, perhaps the pace of the game was not so swift but elves were accustomed to having all the time in the world to make a decision. The exercise helped them acclimate to the speed of war. Wars could rage indefinitely but waited for no one.

In addition to the rapid pace, if they felt so inclined, they also played using unique rules to make it feel more realistic to them in terms of an actual battle. The rules were constantly adjusted from one losing if they lost half their pieces or that reinforcements could be brought in after a number of turns and many more things. There were a number of times they agreed to maximum movement ranges to represent harsh terrain or extreme weather. In their more extreme games, the game barely resembled chess. If not for their own renditions of the game and their familiarity with the version of chess they were first introduced to from intercepted Marine Elf imports, they likely would have preferred the variations created in other lands if Dark Elves enjoyed open trade.

There came a time when loss was inevitable. If the pieces were people, there might have been a display of valor to witness but the sane choice would be to abandon the battlefield. Malniza more often than not chose the former himself though he accepted the latter when offered his enemy’s idea of mercy.

In the war front, Malniza and Odlig both agreed to a strict set of criteria before reporting a success while communicating with each other. First, the objective had to be achieved. Second the enemy had to suffer at least twice as many casualties in the battle. Third, the casualty rate of the deployment of a force the size of a company or greater could be no greater than one out of ten.

The second and third line was a matter of compromise. They wanted to make the second requirement to be three or five but they could not control how many people their enemy might garrison and capturing a fortress or superior position was an operation that resulted in inevitable losses that might not be fully avenged.

The third requirement was the greater debate. They had both secured victories at the cost of single squads that might have even sacrificed their lives to foil the efforts of a far greater force. If they could not call such valor a victory, they would be besmirching the honor of such brave souls. Malniza himself would have thought sacrificing himself and the Honorbound to eradicate the enemy would be an acceptable sacrifice if it met the previous two requirements but Odlig was adamant, there was a threshold where sacrifice became foolishness.

Malniza sometimes could not report a true victory for the losses he took and Odlig occasionally retreated before securing an objective. The second requirement was something both commanders rarely needed to count.

Malniza returned his attention to current affairs as he observed the already decided contest. She was not yet in checkmate but she might as well be. No matter what she did, he would finish the game with the next move. Her eyes narrowed further as she let go of her thumb and leveled her hands to the board. Malniza sensed no threat, her attention remained on the board.

With a wordless yell of frustration, she knocked the pieces off with a single violent swipe. Malniza’s right hand moved otherwise he remained still as he frowned to the pieces clinking against the floor. Thankfully, he did not hear any cracks, the work was durable as it was artful.

He felt something cold and solid in his right hand. He unfurled his fingers to find a pawn resting in his palm. He had to assume perhaps that one would have struck him.

He placed the pawn in the center of the board. He worked to banish the delicacy he used from when she was a child and hardened his tone while trying to avoid confrontation. It was perhaps the closest he could come to sounding cold, trying to be stern yet soothing at once. “This is Odlig’s game. I expect you to show his property proper respect as I expect this table to be set if you wish to try again tomorrow.”

“I do not intend to play any more of these games with you,” she hissed as she looked straight into his silver eyes.

Fortunately, she was not as mercurial as her father, who could violently change moods without prompting. Malniza did not want to imagine what havoc might unfold if she was a host for a spirit of anger.

Malniza released his frown. “I trust that you will keep to our terms all the same.”

She paused for the slightest instant. “No,” she declared. “I can not hold to impossible terms.”

“Are you saying that it is impossible to defeat me in a game? I assure you that you are wrong in that impression.”

“Indeed I can defeat you but after the passing of years which you would have me barred from one that calls himself my father. I should simply be able to walk to him.”

“You agreed to play chess with me with the prize being an audience with the king,” he reminded firmly.

“I agreed to your challenge because I thought there might be a chance I could best you before my restriction becomes lifted. But if Ordelas calls me daughter, I should not have to compete for a prize that should be mine. You have no right to offer it.”

He kept his expression neutral as he silently swallowed a laugh. Perhaps he should have felt her underestimation of him cut keenly as an insult but he grew accustomed to such treatment from Odlig and Scéadu. Instead he enjoyed this moment while he still could offer a challenge to her.

No one other than Odlig was both familiar and at one point hostile enough towards him to genuinely question his intelligence. Odlig once asked in half jest yet with earnestly if Malniza was too foolish to realize the impossibility of his quests.

What offense Malniza took, he quickly let slip. He noticed for himself that he was slower to learn than others in matters outside of combat. Elves mature at varying rates and he reached “adulthood” late by his people’s standards in a time when mastering an instrument was such a requirement. He was older now and had Odlig to challenge him in earlier years and now support him in current times.

If he learned anything, it was from experience more often than not if at all. With his duties, he lacked the time to spare for practice and could hope primarily to keep what skills he gained sharp.

Elda, however, due to her impatience proved to be a quick learner and grew swiftly into her interests.

“And what will you say if I continue to deny you such audience? I granted such an opportunity through these games or a single duel. You chose the games.”

He stated earlier that if the matter was to be settled in a duel, he would only offer one chance. Not even Elda was sure she could defeat him with such stakes. With such stakes in the balance, he would need to be killed before he would stop and the fact he still held his place meant one should not eagerly face him with life and reputation on the line. She forfeited the right to the duel by accepting the games and their numerous opportunities.

Honor meant more than life to the Honorbound, and the same applied to their commander.

“I would have you duel me and if you refuse I will tell Ordelas that his bodyguard is a coward that denied my challenge,” she declared.

“You can tell him such when you are welcomed,” he replied. “But we made a compromise and I will not fight you if such can be avoided.”

Elda stepped forward. “Then I will speak to him now. If you refuse to accept my challenge, who are you to stop me?”

The commander did not move at first but when she began to step around him, he sidestepped to block her path. “You can not walk past me while I still breathe,” he informed her. “But I do not wish to see blood spilled today.” They were so close that they were almost touching, so he had to look down as he assessed her.

Familiarity offered him insight he would rarely have with other foes, but he knew Elda. He knew her strengths and weaknesses, perhaps better than he knew his own.

Malniza could hear his own heartbeat steadily quicken in anticipation. He did not even have to watch her brush her fingers against one of her knives that she kept at her side.

“One of us will bleed whether you accept my challenge or not,” she declared. It was not a senseless threat, it was a fact. Her eyes turned wide so she could observe his every move.

Malniza’s right hand twitched as he held it back. The phantom sensation of throwing a jab raced through his arm as impulse sought to guide his fist to her throat.

His instinct preferred to take the simplest path. If faced with a thief armed with a knife, his comrade Odlig would disarm his foe, throw the opponent to the ground then strike the target down. Odlig would make it all one fluid motion but it was still multiple actions even if performed as one. Malniza knew for a fact when visiting a strange land and greeted by some unfortunate soul that knew not who they were trying to rob, that he would simply punch that person in the throat. One action, the elimination of the threat in a single strike.

Malniza lowered his right hand to the sheathed blade at his side. His rested under the winged guard and he gently pushed the sword out a few inches. She was too close for him to draw as he normally would without trying to cut her. He then took the handle in a reverse with his left hand, drew it out, and held it over his chest, pointing down.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to the blade as he planted it in the ground. Elda’s near all encompassing gaze did not falter as he did so. The tip pierced the stone floor, however slightly, enough to stand firm. He would also also need to apologize to the architects later, this was the palace after all. “If we must fight, let it not be to the death,” he decided as . “I will allow you one chance. If you draw blood, you may pass. If I am left unharmed you must leave-“

His heartbeat spiked an instant before she started to move. Just as he finished she drew a knife and stabbed towards his exposed face. Her movements carried finesse but lacked grace like the rampant assault of a canine rushing for the throat rather than a feline’s ambush. Considering she was named the Thrush, perhaps she resonated with the kicks of a swan or the pecking of a raptor.

For an instant he saw himself kicking the nearby table holding the board, catching the board and using it as a shield before smashing her skull in with it. He banished the impulse and held his feet in place. Instead he led his right hand to his trusted scabbard and worked to loose it from his belt.

He hesitated for too long. No matter how fast he moved now, she would still hit him. He raised his left arm to block the strike, trusting his vambraces to endure as he moved to deflect with his forearm.

The knife’s edge barely touched the plate, sliding against metal would have only slowed it as she adjusted the course to flow around his arm’s swipe. The tip of the blade continued for his face and was a hair’s breadth away from his chin before he completed his sweep and pushed her hand aside. He was too imperiled to thank her for avoiding a lethal location like his throat. She only needed to cut him, not slay.

A jolt ran through his body and he ducked as at that same moment came a clawed hand from the side aimed for his eye. That was too close. His advantage was his speed, he could not afford to hesitate around her or else she held all the advantages at such range.

Elda was perhaps the third most dangerous of the six assassins when barehanded after Tarica and Yatsumi. That difference was likely a gap in experience rather than technique. While Tarica preferred disciplined palm strikes and punches, Elda clawed her hands.

He ducked. His legs braced and he envisioned himself headbutting her while she was still midthrust.

He stopped himself, she had her chance. It was over.

Why then did he still sense danger?

The lingering nervous energy saved him from coming to a complete halt. From twin corners of his vision, he detected movement as Elda's arms swung for paired strikes.

He shot out a foot in a leg sweep. He already knew it would not trip her but as she adjusted her footing, it afforded him an avenue of escape to her side.

When offered her one chance, he meant one strike. It was something he came to understand as routine among his Honorbound.

He tried to avoid elongated battles if the intent was practice. He had to cuff his own hand behind his back when trying to hold back, even then the heat of combat might reach his head and he could start swinging his feet with lethal force.

He would have reminded himself there was nothing to be concerned for but that would be a lie. His word was on the line and the thought of that breaking made his blood warm the same as if a knife was aimed directly for his heart.

He loosed his sheath and turned his right side to her. Malniza's armor was not as heavy as those of his subordinates, meant for those that would use themselves as shields for their lord, but she would still need to target his joints. Tarica's mastery of the armor rending palm was rare and a product of her own refinement of her martial arts. Directed blunt force could dent what a blade might not pierce. Elda's movements were sharp like a beast's claws.

He needed to focus on her knife that could slip through his joints, otherwise she would aim for his neck. If she was to go for his eyes, it would be with her bare hands.

The room filled with the sound of constantly clashing metal as her blade met his scabbard over and over again. He might as well been wielding a shield but if shields were enough to guarantee safety, there would be far fewer deaths among the prepared.

Elda was able to perceive him but not fully match his pace. One of his own issues was the opposite. He on occasion found himself rushing into a situation his mind did not have the time to process. He failed to count how many times he parried and blocked.

She was a thinker, she would target a weak spot and with his current posture, every movement left a new weak spot for her to strike. She was trying to thread a moving needle. However, she had more than one arm and drew her second knife. He had to sidestep as she made simultaneous attacks where his scabbard would have to abandon one vector to intercept another.

Her posture was an abnormal one, she did not guard her vitals and most certainly not her face except when she crossed her arms over her chest at times when she lacked the space to swing her arms fully. It reminded Malniza of one of Tarica’s more rarely used techniques, the Twin Blade Run. Most who fought in such a way did not live long. She kept her field of vision as unobstructed as possible, her eyes seeming to be taking in absolutely everything in front of her.

Even Malniza protected himself with his sword stance, his blade would be clearly between himself and his enemy while her weapons were beside her until the moment of closing.

That was not to say he was utterly on the defensive. She proved in most cases his equal in deflecting and dodging, though more from reading his moves than his raw reflexes. When he struck with his legs or scabbard, she needed to either dodge or redirect the strikes like Tarica would otherwise she would be essentially performing the folly of trying to stop what might have been a club with a blade.

She dodged under many kicks and needed to avoid numerous jabs. Malniza would confess he was not as proficient as Odlig in the art of killing with a single slash. When Malniza struck, he often stabbed several times to be certain. That aspect reflected in most of his attacks. When faced with a worthy opponent like Elda, he rarely struck only once. Inexperienced onlookers would not even be able to count the number of lightning fast punches he unleashed with each flurry.

He was armored and his strikes carried more force but her knives made for more nimble movements for slipping past his his defenses.

When she was this focused, she never blinked. If he fought long enough and risked losing his life paying attention to such trivialities over her flashing knives, he might observe how she closed one eye then another at times.

There was no thought behind his movements at that time. He relied entirely on instinct, his consciousness only awakening to stop him making a fatal strike. He could not afford to think so there was a disquieting serenity in his movements, he was both animal and machine, his body doing everything it could to protect itself, dodging, blocking, parrying. He was not sure how many times he did so but at least once he caught her attack with the back of his heel, his boot more heavily armored than any other part of his body.

She was not someone he could hold back against. He would need to fight her in earnest or rely on tricks. She was not a defensive fighter like Odlig, if they both gave their all, one could easily die.

However, he needed to end their match. For a moment, there was a halt as Elda tried to get behind him, maybe to catch his fluttering red cape and he let his awareness creep back slowly while his honed reflexes kept her at bay.

He dwelled on a number of novel maneuvers. He hated using trickery but he had to admit they forced him to think, to take full control of his body to perform. That helped keep him from treating the fight as a life or death struggle.

The people that forced him to use such techniques were his Honorbound and Elda herself. When she was younger, this might have been a form of play, a way to pass the time while she waited for the king. Now, she was more violent and no longer appreciated him choosing to abstain from striking her with his heel. Maybe he should not have humored her in those years.

The fact he was their greatest warrior was circulated through his acts rather than words. Though Malniza himself as did his own forces, knew he was not invincible. The beginning of his career as was with all Chosen Ones, a loss against Vernigen. Though the Dark Elves being a warrior people would not accept the renown of the commander be anything short of untarnished, what failures he had were excused by the rumor that he never lost to the same opponent twice.

He kept his eyes on Elda but as the two moved about he caught glimpses of the red jade box containing Vernigen’s ring resting by the wall, Malniza bore much acclaim among his people but even as a warrior, he was overshadowed by the glories of Vernigen outside his Honorbound and, oddly, the Undying from the short time he substituted for Odlig.

Malniza agreed with the common assessment that there were three factors to consider for a combatant: strength, speed, and endurance, four if one counted technique as what good were any of those three attributes without the skill to employ them? Malniza's primary attribute was speed but he doubted he could with thirty punches cause as much damage to a wall as a single strong swing of a hammer. Vernigen was wall and hammer both and not as slow as one would expect.

If he fought Vernigen a third time earnestly, he was not certain he would prove victorious. Odlig was a defensive fighter but Vernigen was such a danger that Malniza’s body knew not how to respond. Malniza only won because he was swifter but the champion of the Chosen was not as slow as one would expect.

Will was another factor. Malniza always confessed that if he was to ever fight Vernigen again to the death, Vernigen would win. Malniza might hesitate, Vernigen would not.

Elda had the will to fight the commander but Malniza’s reluctance stifled his movements. He was fortunate she did not come fully prepared for combat. She sometimes hid blades in her long, dark hair, granting her an unique range of attacks.

She kicked at him and he mirrored her attack. A subtle shiver of pain ran up her leg as her unarmored shin met his own. Her swift reaction saved her from true collison, she was withdrawing as his strike went out to greet hers but his movement was faster. Technically, it was a glancing blow, but a glancing blow from a hammer could still chip stone.

She gritted her teeth and bared her fangs at him. She would need a moment to recover so he moved forward and swung his scabbard at her hip. He drew back his improvised weapon as rather than dodge, she moved to strike, one knife for his throat and one for under his arm.

He moved aside from the one aimed for his throat and barely maneuvered around the one that would have gone under his armpit. He kept moving closer and let her hand move under and past his arm before he closed it like a vice and punched the inside of her caught forearm with his free hand.

She yelped as her captured hand spasmed. He caught her.

Or perhaps she caught him. She loosed the knife in her other hand as well, not trusting matters to gravity, she hastened its fall by throwing the knife towards the ground, handle first.

Her leg shot out to kick the knife towards Malniza. Its path was set for beneath Malniza’s chin. He had to let go or die.

This worked in his favor. Even if she could react to his movements, she forfeited control of her weapon’s flight. He freed her to bring his sheath, locket facing the ground to intercept the deadly path. The knife flew into the scabbard’s throat where it came to settle.

Weaponless, she moved to back away. With his free hand, Malniza unfastened his cape and threw it in front of himself and let it flutter. If he threw the garment directly at her, she would just cast it aside or move if such a way it did not obscure her line of sight.

If both combatants were robbed of their vision, advantage came to the one that could react fastest while their memory of their enemy’s position remained accurate to reality.

With her disarmed, only needed to worry about protecting his head, which ironically he exposed as he lunged forward in a headbutt. He minimized his number of steps to avoid her hearing and he felt a flash of pain as her skull met his just as the cape dropped out of the way.

It hurt her far more than it hurt him. Pain only made her angrier. That was not his goal. He only needed to faze her.

There was a momentary pause as all action ceased for but an instant as she closed her eyes. The halt as she rearranged her thoughts differeanted her from a berserker. A mindless feral thing would have continued unfazed. He had a moment to address her before she set her mind to attack again.

“Are you satisfied,” he asked?

She let out a frustrated sigh as she processed it all. “Yes.”

He sighed in relief. “Good.”

He wanted to spit, Causing her harm, no matter how shortlived left the acrid taste of bile itching at his throat. He could feel it now that the heat of battle receded to allow for more subtle sensations. He did not mind landing a blow upon an opponent in a friendly spar but Elda held special protection for who she was. If Ordelas never laid a hand upon her, who was he, the lord’s bodyguard to do so?

For all his rancor, Ordelas was slow to discipline her if at all. It seemed his choice of reinforcement was to simply not reward her, offering her praise and genuine criticism when pleased and ignoring her less appreciable choices.

Immortals feared humiliation and such was the regular punishment for misdeeds. Elda endured no such treatment, though whether she ever earned such punishment depended on who was asked. She was never disloyal but her overzealous temperament caused as much trouble as neglecting her duties could at times.

Malniza freed the knife that flew for his throat from his scabbard. He offered the weapon back to her. “I am the one that taught you that trick,” he recalled.

She leaned forward to take the weapon. “I improved it.” Her hostility slowly bled out of her.

He smiled. “Indeed you did.” He had been content to simply let the knife drop from his hand and took measures to strike her with the handle.

He stood. “Will you accept this defeat or challenge me to another game? I am willing to keep to our original arrangement.”

“You will see me tomorrow,” she answered as she raised herself.

He looked to the pieces on the floor. “We will not be able to play if the game remains scattered about.”

That earned him a momentary glare of resistance but that garnered no reaction from him. She bit her lip and it seemed she might do nothing before bowing down to collect each piece slowly with the consideration they deserved. While she did that,, he returned his sword back to its proper place at his side. She placed the pieces on the table and he began to help her arrange them on the board.

Her silence bothered him. She was not the most graceful of losers but such a match warranted at least some talk so they both might learn further.

“If you need to say something,” he began as he set a piece in place. “We can take a seat upon the battlements and speak to the wind together.”

Those two discovered the practice when Elda, still keen to instinct, had difficulty addressing Malniza directly unless in confrontation, otherwise they were naturally inclined to give each other distance. It was at such times she was most placid, the winds offered her no conflict or encouragement and Malniza found himself most fierce. If he was speaking to no one, there was no need for etiquette, and he could voice frustrations that would otherwise never be addressed.

Her mouth twitched but she otherwise ignored him as she kept to her task.

“If you are so burdened,” he continued. “I can summon others to watch my post. If you are with me, I need not worry of you slipping through the corridor.”

Elda finished arranging her side and gripped the side of the table. Her fingers tensed as if to claw through it yet Malniza felt no threat. “I find your company unpleasant at the moment. You are an obstacle and the longer I am with you, the more I have the urge to challenge you once more. If it be our arrangement for me to play a game with you every day until my way is cleared, we can talk while playing.”

Malniza said nothing and hoped he recognized her feeling. He knew how it felt to be frustrated at one’s own failings. He let her stay there I disturbed for a time.

She was too young and Ordelas had not seen battle since she was taken in. However, Malniza hoped that she would have the same feeling he did if their lord came to harm, perhaps she would hate her enemy as Malniza found difficulty doing so but also be upset at oneself for letting it happen.

Malniza could resent others but if their actions carried a virtue, he could not hate someone for trying to kill his king to protect their homes. However, he could hate himself for ever allowing such a person near his king. He would still strike back in retribution, no matter the reason.

Or at least he thought he would. When his lord was captured he chose penance in a cell.

He could not leave while she was still there, absorbed as she seemed to be now in the center of the board. Her ears did not even twitch as a serf cane with his daily meal. He took a moment to add additional seasoning once the serf departed for the throneroom.

His time in the field made him accustomed to raw or dried food from when campfires might give away his position. He could at least flavor it.

He prepared to take a bite then looked to Elda. “Hungry?”

Elda looked up. “Did you prepare it-“ She sniffed the air and blanched. “You add too many spices for my taste. I will make something for myself.”

Elda left and Malniza listened as he ate for any words from his lord but nothing discernable came from above. Eventually the serf came back down with an empty tray. A recent regulation Ceronus set that Malniza agreed with was that the serfs were not to leave until the lord finished his meal in front of them.

Malniza then took the opportunity to climb the stairway as well. His mind on another day

*****

The seat beneath him barely rocked even as the carriage rode over untamed terrain. If he shook it was likely from his nerves, instinct and duty compelling him to leap from his space.

He was the fastest known sprinter. If he removed his boots, he could outrace the carriage to his king. Every moment he sat idle was another moment his lord would need to wait. But it was not his own arrival the king wished for.

He looked to the still tumultuous sky above him. The darkness concentrated into silent thunderheads, the worst of it all being directly in front of him. The Veil’s borders appeared to where it raged the most, as if trying to surge into the foreign lands and swallow all beneath it.

Malniza looked to the driver beside him but said nothing. If their journey could be made any faster surely the coachelf would have already done so. That and the neighboring elf’s concentration seemed entirely focused on guiding the six animals pulling the carriage.

These were no horses from foreign lands. These were the giant wolves of the Dark Kingdom, the only land beasts that could rival them for mobility were mountain goats. There was no need for roads. Mobility was limited by only the carriages themselves.

The carriages were slim and light, based similarly to their chariots meant to slip between trees and yet the wheels wide and firm enough to roll over snow while ignoring most common obstacles. Anything two large wolves pass by side by side, the carriage could slip through or climb over like the steep and treacherous mountain paths.

Malniza spared a glance behind to ensure the second carriage was keeping pace with them. The closest thing he had to a smile since his king’s return graced his countenance as the edges of his lips arched in faint satisfaction. At least in this, he was serving his king well.

Five hundred years of purposelessness finally ended. He was a bodyguard without a king to protect and a commander without a war until then. As fondly as he regarded his brothers and sisters in his Honorbound, he was a bodyguard first.

The task of protecting his charge overcame even instinct. His own body sought to avoid being struck but duty compelled him to place himself between his lord and any threat.

The prospect of their lord’s return shook centuries of melancholy as easily as he might wipe blood from his blade with his cape. He should have been beaming when he greeted his lord days before. Instead, he was somber and solemn for his first tasks were not to be jovial ones and his lord’s bitter temper seemed to rob all those that met his gaze of cheer.

That one of his first actions as commander when the king reached his throne was to read the scroll of the departed poisoned Ordelas’s mood further. All who died in the king’s service was recorded so that their lord might know

their names. The scroll would then be burned.

The lord listened with glassy eyes. Not reacting as one name led to another.

His king ordered the scroll to be kept. It would not be reduced to ash until he memorized every entry as he had before.

At the peak of his melancholy, the king confessed he lost count how many died in his name… and that he never did keep track. One life was enough, and ordered for the time to only to speak to him in names, not numbers.

Malniza could sense his lord trying to push him away. Saying the numbers never mattered should have been words of disrespect but the commander of the Honorbound only felt all the more certain this was the person he was meant to serve forever. Hílainno would tell the commander in the future how Ordelas demanded to know how many he had slain in the travesty that intertwined his fate with Elda.

Malniza knew many of the names read from the scroll be they from his Honorbound or not. At least the commander’s reunion with his regiment had been a moment of genuine contentment even if there was some confusion to follow.

The Honorbound functioned well enough in his absence. Other than Kìrous, he was allegedly the least involved in the affairs of his own regiment, caught in his duties as bodyguard.

During his two hundred and fifty year penance, the Honorbound developed a number of customs and trials. Originally, one was not Honorbound until one fought alongside a brother or sister. With the prospect of indefinite peace reigning, they created a number of initiation rituals so a brother or sister could still be recognized. Malniza kept the rituals in place and offered several additions. One of the only rules he enforced was the traveling in pairs or more.

The most drastic of developments he discovered was how they elected leadership. While the enemy still occupied their land, they could not marshal in full numbers and instead gathered individuals that each had large numbers of their brothers and sisters swore to follow.

Malniza told himself his Honorbound established a proper meritocracy. He could not condone his elves mimicking the decision making of dwarves beneath their king’s very notice. Unfortunately, a council of elected officers drew striking similarities with the dwarven senate. Fortunately, it naturally dissolved as they differed to him once he reintegrated himself, though the bonds and agreements formed in that time remained.

His brothers and sisters were not the only ones to support him while he waited for his king. Odlig helped sharpen his spirit while the Honorbound kept him anchored.

He was well regarded when he returned except for one detail. Malniza possessed the stain of being the only commander to negotiate and enact temporary truces with the enemy. He may have been a warrior but he was not opposed to conversation. Sitting down to speak with a foe meant his target’s choice of weapon became their tongue rather than metal.

Scéadu would be burdened by such a dishonor as well if the commander of the Shadow’s Legion honored the agreements he struck.

Oddly, when treaties would be later proposed there often would be a condition of “We wish to speak with Malniza.” Odlig sometimes would have something to contribute to such affairs and seemed of a better disposition for bargaining than Malniza himself.

Past abd future alliance were still often cemented through Ceronus as ambassador.

Such disgraces might have inspired whispers of disloyalty, especially in the years of their lord’s absence. However, his own reputation shielded him. Until the his king retracted his praise, Malniza was protected.

If one waged war without honor, the enemy was justified to war without honor. Dwarves, orcs, and his fellow elves followed a code similar enough to his own. It was only human forces that used his conduct against him. They used civilians as a shield when any nonhuman military would evacuate such people.

As they approached their destination, Malniza would not believe what he saw was ever a village. It was less than rubble, flat and crushed, barely discernable from a distance. Only the familiar figures of his lord, Hílainno, Ruhin, Syicho, one of his fellow Honor Guard and the latest assassin Tarica told him that he came to the right place.

He bit the inside of his mouth. This might become a common sight. The idea that peace might take root in the world had withered in Malniza’s heart. The king had ordered him in secret through Ruhin that if his five centuries years in prison failed to offer him enough time to find a reason to spare the world, they were to march out once Ordelas settled back into his throne. The order had not been given to proceed but nor had Ordelas voiced any such enlightenment.

He focused his gaze upon the distant king and noticed someone small in front of Ordelas, beside Hílainno. The king raised a hand to hail him and Malniza and hailed him back.

He wanted to smile, to know the jubilation of being reunited with his lord but tragedy demanded otherwise. He forced his frown into a stoic expression lest his own emotions impact Ordelas's. The king was already beyond the bounds of what sanity should endure, reminding him of the obvious would be unwise.

As they neared the site, he noticed how the scent of ash lingered as did the funerary atmosphere. His eyes which had been locked on his lord shifted to the Honor Guard behind the king. For an instant, he thought his subordinate was performing his role less than dutifully as the armor clad elf’s attention appeared to be on the child rather than their lord but then he saw the faint vulnerability behind Ordelas’s eyes as the king watched Hílainno to for child’s attention before pointing to the carriages and explaining something. To the untrained eye, Ordelas perhaps would still seem cold and hard as stone in that moment but the bodyguard’s long career made him sensitive to any warmth from his lord. For the time he was at least not raging or in the throes of despair, though there was a resignation.

He surveyed the area around him for threats and noticed nothing. Ruhin and Syicho stayed at a distance and Tarica was the least of Malniza's concerns at that time.

Malniza dropped from his seat and a tingling ran up his spine to the back of his skull as if to compel him to stand as tall as he could as his gaze met the girl’s amber eyes.

He experienced that sensation when first meeting any predator, be it wolf, dragon, or blessed elf. It was a rare occasion that he met another elf like himself. Rarer still that the elf might lack a blood tie with Vernigen.

People did not need to be beasts to be skilled or dangerous as Odlig proved but there were those like Malniza who were born more akin to an animal. There were those that possessed ingrained instincts more powerful than reason.

All elves possessed a bond to nature of some sort, just because one possessed a deeper connection with a certain aspect did not mean they share particularly deep kinship with himself. There were those that might as well have been feral beasts that he felt no special attachment for. In his most prideful moments, he would profess to being a being of passion and instinct but not of madness. There was a distinction between impulse and insanity, though where the line dividing them lied was not for Malniza to judge.

He was not sure exactly what it was that resonated within him but he could sense it the same way a wolf could discern another wolf from a common dog. Malniza was convinced it was a matter of the soul, a part of the wild somehow captured within their bodies.

However, the resonance was weak, what spark she had yet to feed. And a spark however resilient could fade with many years just as it might rekindle. Hers perhaps by nurture or the recent trauma seemed ready to vanish. However, so was the child herself, she was ready to let go of life.

The sensation supposedly would crawl down his back as if to force him to submit if faced with one he could not defeat. He only felt the latter once, a precursor to his body expressing itself, when he first faced Vernigen. He never again experienced it. He was stronger than the youngster he once was. His knees buckled only to his lord of his own free will, not even the Doomlord brought him low.

That did not mean he had never lost since the time Vernigen beat him to death. It simply meant he never met another beast he was certain he could not overcome. When he first met Ordelas, he had no such feeling. The lord he swore to obey was not a monster, not in those days.

Of the commanders, only Vernigen triggered that response and none of the assassins he met until that point earned that reaction, though Syicho unsettled him. He knew this child was a raptor that had yet to learn how to fly. There was an innate danger to her.

He had never met someone so young that exuded that such apparent danger. A wolf cub would be harmless and illicit little caution beyond its nearby parents. Some primal part of him considered killing her then and there as he sometimes did when faced with a threat to his lord. How glad he would be that he did not.

To match what Malniza sensed within her, she was at once clean yet unkempt. She had far more important matters on her mind than how she appeared. Her half dead stare would convince Malniza she was not even self aware at the time but Hílainno or someone else might have washed her to explain why she did reek so strongly of death while dwelling in such a place.

Hílainno introduced Malniza to the girl but the child remained silent. Malniza would think she was mute. However, the assassin conversed with her as if she replied, watching the movement of her eyes rather than listening for words. At the very least Hílainno detected her discomfort and spoke only the highest praises of Malniza, focusing on his trustworthiness rather than his skill in battle as if to teach a child to not fear a campfire for its warmth and not that it might light a forest fire. The girl's eyes transfixed themselves upon the wolves rather than look directly at the commander.

The King stepped over to the child and stared down at her. “Do you wish to see them better?”

She offered no affirmation or denial beyond glancing at him as he spoke before returning her attention to the wolves.

The king in turn became wordless as he took her by the hand. Hílainno’s lips half opened but even if she said anything it would have fallen on deaf ears. He led the girl to the beasts, her feet half-dragging along the ground as he pulled her along by her hand with his long steady stride while she tried to take cautious steps.

The king ran his fingers through the wolf’s fur to prove it was safe. The obedient creature barely responded to the stimulation. The beasts may have been afraid of the king but were too disciplined to express it as they had been bred for warfare and did not respond to Malniza earlier when the commander first joined the carriage. Malniza drew close all the same, more out of habit than necessity.

The girl slowly reached out a hand but stopped with her palm only an inch away from the creature. The gap lengthened and shortened as the creature breathed.

Ordelas placed his hand over hers. Malniza could not be certain if the king pushed her further or let his hand follow hers as she closed the distance. The king lifted his hand and she proceeded to pet the beast.

The king let her be for a short time, waiting for all her hesitation to be banished by familiarity with the animals. She never smiled but her near mechanical movements transitioned from simple stroking back and forth of the fur to more specific movements in response to what the wolf appeared to prefer such a gentle scratching in various locations. She was too short to scratch them behind the ears, she was still young and they at least as tall as horses if Malniza remembered the heights of such foreign creatures correctly.

“Can she feed them?” the lord asked the carriage driver that Malniza had traveled with. The girl’s ears twitched.

The carriage driver remained silent for a brief moment as he stepped down from his place so he was not looking down on his king and knelt. “They should be fed by their masters, my lord. But if it be your will if she is provided the food by me in front of them then I fear no harm will befall her.”

The king blinked at the final statement and clenched his teeth. The lord swallowed whatever words he was ready to say. Though that venom lingered faintly as he said what came next. “Do it.”

The girl turned her head to the king and looked at him blankly.

“Do you wish not to?” the king asked firmly, meeting her gaze. “If you are opposed, say it now.”

Again she offered no words and her stare faltered.

“Then join him,” Ordelas either suggested or ordered as he stepped back.

The coachelf removed the wolves’ harnesses and the beasts took on

more natural postures and mannerisms as they were now freed from the line. Some shook out stray leaves from their coat and others scratched at their heads but all circled around their master and the girl as the driver prepared their rations.

The rations were passed to the girl and she began to feed them. While her expression did not change, her eyes at least had more “life” in them as she went about the task. There was a scare as one wolf growled at another and Malniza leapt in front of Ordelas, otherwise, it proved safe as the driver had promised. The other carriage driver followed the same routine and fed his animals as well.

It was then when the beasts were placed back in their harnesses and the child returned to petting them without prompting that the king approached the driver as the driver was about to climb back onto the carriage. “They did well as you said. Whoever raised them should be commended. Was it you?” The king for that moment seemed at the least content and spoke as he once did.

Malniza’s heart skipped a beat. Fortunately, Ordelas’s back was to him as his eyes focused on the driver and the driver returned his look in turn.

The driver knelt. “I am but their current master. I am not the one to be praised for their

upbringing.”

“Then who raised them?” the king asked, still in the closest he had been to a serene mood since his return.

There was a long inexcusable moment of silence. The driver lowered his head. “I can not say.”

The air turned heavy. The king’s voice gradually lowered as the sense of danger rose. “Can you not speak because you do not know or you refuse to answer your king?”

The elf remained silent.

“My lord,” Malniza addressed.

“Look at me!” the king ordered at that same moment, drowning the commander out. his short lived patience gone as something dark and invisible lurked near him. The wolves, which remained calm until now became unsettled and whined, disturbing the girl and she turned to see the commotion.

The elf lifted his head. Malniza had to commend the driver. The elf did not at any point look away from the king. A less disciplined soul might have at least glanced at the commander. He was not even an Honorbound, just a soul performing his duty and deferring to the bodyguard’s wisdom for what would be best for the king.

The king breathed heavily as if to exhale the anger building up inside of him. His next words were quiet but all the more fearsome like the calm before a storm. “Answer me now or I must assume the latter.”

The driver’s lips formed into words. “Lor-“

“I told him not to speak of the subject, my lord,” Malniza interrupted.

Ordelas turned to his bodyguard. “Malniza?” The king scratched at his chest as if wounded. The king seemed utterly confused as if he discovered an arrow in his back. “Why would you instruct that?”

Malniza bowed his head. “Because the one that trained these beasts was Lorad.”

Ordelas tilted his head as if the name was unknown to him. Maybe after five hundred years, it was. “Lorad? Why would you not have that name spoken-“ His eyes widened in realization. He collapsed to his knees and covered his head as if his skull was about to split. The king stared straight down at the ground as his eyes flickered red then black then red again. Ordelas did not need to finish. All the same he shouted a familiar name.

“That is correct. He is one of Vernigen’s sons,” Malniza replied. He had to answer his lord’s every question.

The air around the king chilled, thickened, and churned. The air whipped about as if caught in a broken vortex, randomly lashing out with invisible blades. Some nearby insect’s flight was cut short to prove the reality of the unseen peril.

The commander sensed the danger approach again and again. Every time it turned away just before it could brush his skin. His body’s instincts told him to run, that he stood before death itself but he ignored that primal urge as he always did when he saw his lord in such a state.

The only movement he made was to motion for the driver to remain still. The assassins except for Tarica froze in their place. Fortunately one of her sisters informed her to be stationary though Malniza was unsure who.

He had to trust his king. He would not take a single step back just as he always did and he always would. He knew he grimaced when his lord lashed out with words but he would not retreat from the one he swore allegiance to.

Malniza’s eyes to looked the child and with some relief found his subordinate risked rushing to her side to grant her such warning. They needed to remain calm while he regained control.

The king raised his fist in the air and struck the ground. He created a small crater and repeated the process again and again. His knuckles started to bleed and the blood lit into baleful black flames that entrapped his fist and devoured even the dirt and the air grew even colder as if all warmth was being consumed.

A single weak voice broke through the chaos. “You lost someone as well?”

Ordelas turned his head to face the girl who still looked at him with a far distant expression, his fist upraised for another punch. This time he was the mute and she walked towards him, his hand still ablaze with supernatural fire as he lowered it. Maybe someone else also tried to stop her but Malniza remembered himself calling for her to wait as she reached out for his flamewreathed hand.

The flames extinguished to reveal knuckles that had been worn to the bone. He did not take her hand though, reaching past it to rest his fingers over her head. His eyes seemed ready to water but he did not shed tears in that moment and forced his snarl into something remotely pleasing.

The two broken individuals stared into each other’s eyes. “Yes, I did,” the king replied. The king then said “Thank you,” when Malniza knew he meant I am sorry.

Those two sat for a long moment as the king’s wound healed. His sorcerously enhanced body mended his flesh swiftly. Others gave them distance and all was silent except for an irritating buzzing of an insect that was struck by the king’s outburst. In that time, the king had the opportunity to calm but he was also drained of will, his banished anger leaving little else for energy, though Malniza would later suspect it was also an excuse for what he would say next.

The king held out his hand to be lifted up. “Malniza,” he called.

“My lord,” the commander answered as he helped his king come to his feet.

The king leaned against the commander’s shoulder and had his mouth to Malniza’s ear but did not whisper. “Did you think it proper to hide something from me?” the king asked. He did not sound accusing, just disappointed.

The world at that time only consisted of the bodyguard and his liege. “I believe it to be right. I did not want you to be reminded at this time,” he answered dejectedly.

“Vernigen is not someone to be forgotten,” the king stood on his own and began with a hint of his anger before quelling. “But you understand that. I know you do. I see your wisdom in that choice. Maybe I would even appreciate it if it was a choice made by another. The others, Scéadu, Kírous, and Odlig, they can withhold from me. The others can even lie to me if they must. But not you.” The king gripped the commander’s collar desperately and began to almost beg. “You alone can not hide anything from me.”

Malniza looked into his lord’s black eyes. “Thank you, my lord.”

Ordelas let go of Malniza’s collar and looked homeward towards Raven’s Hold. “When we return to the palace, I would have you instruct Odlig in my stead.”

“We are to march then, my lord?”

Ordelas looked to what remained of the village then to the child. “No… I have already seen the price of my rashness for now. Tell him, I will wait. And ask him that he might forgive me for my rudeness when I prove worthy of such.”

A weight however small dropped from Malniza’s chest that the scene that they stood in would not be repeated so soon. “You need not ask forgiveness, my lord,” Malniza tried to conciliate.

Odlig had offended Ordelas’s deranged sensibilities. Rather than greet his lord with Malniza, the leader of the Undying asked his lord to come to him so he might present the forces that had been prepared. Ordelas instead cursed at him and declared that he alone would stay when the others departed.

“But I will all the same,” the king insisted. “Especially as I will not rescind my decision though I hope he might come to accept that I now chose such from trust over spite. If we are to march across the world, he is to stay home to defend it.”

Finally it came time for the king to return to Raven’s Hold, to stay hopefully this time. With Malniza no longer fixated on his lord’s every word, he noticed the insect’s sputtering buzz persisted, punctuated by moments of silence to deceive listeners that it was over only to begin again.

The sound of the tiny struggle reminded him too keenly of suffering and did what he could to maneuver himself to it. It was a mortal creature, it would never recover. It could not grow back lost limbs and would cease to be whether Malniza intervened or not. Still he wondered how long those final moments would seem to one so short lived.

As he spun in place to follow his lord, he stomped his foot on the insect and slid his heel to be sure its struggle was over.

Ordelas was too caught in his own thoughts to notice but the commander sensed someone’s attention on his foot before he had the familiar feeling of being observed.

For seating of the carriages, Ordelas made the first choice. He chose the left side of the seat facing the wolves. Malniza stood beside the door as if to resume his duties of guarding the entryway back home. The king's voice rang out from the compartment as he directed a finger at the child.

“Choose as you will.”

The doors to both carriages were open but the girl gravitated towards the one occupied by the king. Ordelas looked straight forward, blind to the child’s decision.

She looked to the compartment then looked to Malniza and shrunk before him. She felt the kinship as well and yielded to his presence. Animals were wise in understanding when they were outmatched.

Malniza bowed his head and averted his gaze. This would not be the last time he would let her pass but he was certain at the time she was the first person he ever let cross his path so incautiously.

Yet she still did not enter. Malniza looked to the king who was maintaining a neautral expression but could not help but notice the child now at the threshold.

“Someone help her enter,” the king ordered.

Malniza doubted the child would take aid from him without difficulty. Malniza glimpsed towards her and noticed that the girl’s expression was no longer neutral but one of nervousness and encroaching fear. What had happened to her?

The sensation of being watched broke as Tarica passed him by. She gave a sideward glance but he kept his eyes on Ordelas, only observing her in the corner of his vision.

Those that thought the name "Deer" was not a suitable title for an assassin had obviously never seen a deer strike someone. He did not know her well but he knew Odlig and though the commander of the Undying had many students, it was still respectable for someone to complete his lessons.

Tarica helped her up the step. Malniza lifted his head once he heard her footsteps enter the compartment.

He told himself he let her be because his interference would have robbed her of the choice that his king willed her to have but perhaps he trusted her even then.

The child's anxiety flared as she entered, staring at the walls around them. Tarica’s eyes lit with some unspoken realization but turned to leave once the child was seated.

“Please, join us, Tarica,” Ordelas requested. “You as well, Malniza.”

In that time Ordelas was ignorant of the two discomforts he inflicted upon the child when he invited the two. Tarica hesitated but complied and Malniza did not even pause for a moment to obey his lord’s wishes.

Tarica's two sisters and Malniza’s subordinate from the Honor Guard shared the other carriage.

Ordelas sat with his arms crossed while the child stared from across from him. She focused on him rather than the walls. Malniza shared the seat with the girl while Tarica sat beside Ordelas.

All involved were quiet. It was fortunate that he and the Elda were at least not facing each other. He knew she would not stay the same docile young girl they took in once the shock wore off.

*****

Malniza’s mind drifted to the future. For a moment, he envisioned Elda garbed in the king's armor and afflicted with the same spirit and was relieved that it would never come to pass.

One terrible day he may have to watch her as he did his lord. The king prepared little inheritance for her, not even his throne. However, he ensured she would at least continue to live as she was accustomed, a place in the palace forever set for her and though it went unspoken in public and not a single one uttered in her presence, there were several Honor Guard sworn to her service upon the king’s death. The subject was best not discussed with her when she interpreted such oaths as treason against her father.

Elda was named his child but she was not his heir. The king was not the only one who built his kingdom, authority was to be transferred to Ceronus and the commanders at Ordelas’s demise. Hopefully, Elda’s current position would be preserved, there was no one Malniza could imagine abandoning her, not as long as Ordelas was remembered.

Malniza stepped into the throneroom. The king slouched limply upon his throne as if asleep if his dazed eyes were not open. The king’s pet drake sat and nuzzled at his feet expectantly.

The king lifted his head and focused his bloodshot eyes on the commander. The rings under his eyes belayed that he had still yet to sleep in months.

“Do you have news for me, Malniza?”

“I have received word but I should say now that it is of no great changes or developments,” the commander declared.

“I would still have you speak,” Ordelas declared weakly. “Tell me at least whether or not there is work towards progress.”

Malniza opened his mouth but before any words could be said, the king’s voice echoed through the room. “Come closer,” the lord instructed as the king gestured for him to approach. The king kept beckoning him until the commander was at his lord’s side and the drake departed at the bodyguard’s close proximity. “Now you can begin,” the king said calmly, his expression a frown rather than a sneer or welcoming smile.

Malniza recounted of expeditions in the tundra. Messages came regularly from the north, though primarily the reports contained nothing of significance. It at least kept the king assured progress was being made before he grew impatient enough to demand such answers. It was a welcome distraction from the subject of Tarica and if the mission did not carry such import and so entwined with the king’s psyche, the reports would be expected every few years rather than months.

Malniza’s warning likely tempered the lord’s patience as the king anticipated little. The lord listened but offered no interruptions, only acknowledging Malniza relaying the promise that the search continued.

When Malniza finished, Ordelas looked to him and seemed to notice something. “Do you have something else to tell me?”

Malniza said his next words as gently as possible. “Elda requests an audience.”

“Again, how many times does that make it?” The king did not appear surprised.

“I counted over a hundred times, my lord.”

“That-“ Ordelas spat as he glared at his bodyguard for a moment. “I did not-“ The king inhaled and his following tone was genuinely grateful without being sardonic. “Thank you, Malniza. Thank you for being truthful.”

There were those that accused Ordelas of using his sorcery to control his people. All Malniza needed to show to disprove them was how much strain Ordelas labored under to just keep control of himself. He was the vessel of wrath yet he was not going about in mindless slaughter.

Though Ordelas’s sorcery allowed for a degree of what he was accused of. Malniza was untrained in the arcane but knew his lord’s abilities. He could not control others but he could perhaps suppress them, push down their will the way a foreign taskmaster might step on another’s head to make them bow further. It was far from absolute but with paired with another force it was to be feared. It was a magic he rarely used when breaking someone’s body was more along the lord’s desire and his duty as king shielded his subjects from that abuse.

Malniza bowed. “It is what you require of me.”

“A hundred times?” Ordelas pondered. “How long has it been?”

“Not even half a year, my lord,” Malniza attested. “It will be around that time once spring has completed its conquest and had time to settle.”

With Tarica, Hílainno, and Yatsumi away, the only three to concern himself with for recent months were Elda, Ruhin, and Syicho. That was somewhat of relief though he was still left with his greatest concern, Syicho.

He could not understand her logic, nor did he believe her to be an automaton. Any animal larger than a microbe seemed to possess emotions. Even a spider could feel something.

“Then she has troubled you perhaps once a day. Thank you for humoring my most troublesome daughter.”

“It is my duty.”

“It should not be.” Ordelas rubbed his temple and tried to look away but as his lips moved, his gaze returned to Malniza. “Remind me then in Elda’s place, is this war of ours righteous? Can it be justified when its very prelude is stained with misfortune and loss?”

“Am I allowed a question?” the bodyguard inquired carefully.

Ordelas smiled feebly. “You can ask but you rarely do. What would you ask here and now?”

“Are you speaking to me of Elda’s creation or Tarica’s disappearance?”

That question earned a growl or a groan. After some not so silent contemplation the king answered “Let it be both.”

“I can not speak for Elda though I believe she made it clear her understanding of the former. If I may speak for myself let me say that whatever you decide as right and wrong, I will accept as just.”

“Then once it begins, do not let me stop,” Ordelas ordered. “If everything I do is just to you then let Elda and the other assassins decide when justice has been delivered.”

Malniza nodded rather than speak. He could not lie so and would have to disagree with the last part of his lord’s request. He could trust Elda but he would try to stop the others if he needed to.

Ordelas's lips seemed to try to trace a smile but could not. “Thank you for bearing me for this long.”

It was far easier for many to bear a single person than for an individual to hold up others. Malniza did not voice that though. He would not even begin to consider his lord anything akin to a burden. It would be like resenting a cornerstone for having to carry it to its destination.

If the world was wrong then the king’s madness was righteousness.