An impromptu conference was gathered as Daveth splashed water on his face.

“He should be told.” Lynnabel offered, her voice low. “They were ... close, after all.”

Alysia nodded. “He should be told.” She agreed, and Stronghammer nodded his silent agreement.

“It’s just that...” Nicola began, and trailed off. The others nodded again.

If they broke the news to Daveth he might lose control and rampage again. Without a target to direct his rage, he was indiscriminate in his violence, and if they were to tell him that Audra was dead, he might turn that rage against them.

One of the members of the Tross worked quickly, efficiently, stripping the Angel Queen’s armor off of her corpse, and piling it up in a neat stack. It was Daveth’s by right of conquest, but there was simply no way that a giant could fit in such armor. Well, what he chose to do with it was his business, and none of theirs.

Daveth pushed himself to his feet awkwardly, and gestured to one of the infantrymen.

“Your spear, soldier.” He ordered. The man looked into Daveth’s eyes and handed it over without a word.

He gripped the spear loosely in his hand and marched down the road, picking up the headless corpse of the Angel Queen along the way.

“A horse, quickly.” Alysia hurriedly ordered Stronghammer, who shrugged, since he wasn’t under her command. but nodded and trotted off. Alysia turned to Lynnabel. “Fetch...” she struggled to remember the bizarre name he’d given the gigantic beast and gave up. “Daveth’s mount too, sister. I’ll bring it to him.”

Lynnabel eyed Alysia curiously, but nodded and trotted off to find where the Tross had picketed their horses.

*****

Alysia wasn’t comfortable on horseback despite having ridden horses throughout the entire time she’d been with the Seal.

She blinked in confusion. How long had her and Lynnabel served with the Seventh Seal? She counted months as she rode, leading the giant horse behind her.

First there were the bandits on the Tiba Peninsula, then there was the months in the deserts of Ankar Set. How many had that been? She struggled to calculate on her fingers. The Order of the Wolf offered a basic literary training as well as numbers, but she was nowhere skilled with the manipulation of numbers. She had Lynnabel to rely on for that. Lynnabel was her mirror and her opposite. Alysia was often headstrong and impulsive; Lynnabel was the observant and calculating one. Alysia could not understand the humor of humans, but Lynnabel could be seen laughing and joking with the other members of the Seal.

All of the Order of the Wolf were considered sisters, but Lynnabel was her true blood sibling, born from the same mother. They had grown up together, their toys and belongings bore the same teeth-marks, they had endured the privations and rigorous discipline of the Order side-by-side. There was no one else in the world that Alysia trusted more than Lynnabel, and there was no doubt in her mind that Lynnabel felt the same way.

The Order taught that there was the Order, and there was the rest of the world. The rest of the world would happily and indifferently extinguish the flame of the Order if it were ever revealed to the public. But for Alysia, there was the Order, and there was the world, but before everything else, there was her sister.

She blinked, and refocused on counting. How many months in the deserts? After that, the long and painful journey up towards Nauders and the long winter there. That had to have been an entire year, right? Surely it was. There was that abominably long journey back down the Tems, and then across the Mirras to Metzcal; how long had that boat trip taken? She ran out of fingers and growled to herself in frustration.

Mezcal had been challenging. She tried counting some more, but grimaced in frustration. She wasn’t so good with numbers. Mezcal had given way to the Shapers, the Shapers had led to a lengthy trip across Philippa to Blackwall, from Blackwall to Einsamkeit and another ridiculously long trip upriver to Tannit, where she was able to see Daveth massacre four entire warbands of the Carrion Crows, single-handedly.

She’d never wanted him more than in that moment. He was glorious, savage, relentless, unstoppable, invulnerable, indestructible and so utterly perfect that she wanted to pin him down on the spot.

It was obvious as to what had transpired between Daveth and Audra, though. She swallowed her bitter frustration and focused on her duty. There was another abysmally long trip back down the Tems river, and another trip across the Mirras to Philippa.

She raised her head in realization. Had it been more than two years? How had so much time passed?

She’d raised her head just in time to see Daveth do something in his savage way; he’d impaled the woman’s headless corpse upon the pike, then he added the Angel Queen’s head, and then drove the pike’s butt into the pavement of the road; a warning to all that dared approach. It went beyond uncouth; there was no honor or dignity in being ... impaled in such a fashion. It violated every precept of dignity, propriety, and honor that had been carved into her bones by the Order.

He turned, and blinked a few times in surprise at seeing Alysia.

“You...” He began, and then stopped.

“I brought your horse, Lord Commander.” She offered coolly, refusing to look at the body impaled on the pike. It was a violation of the highest degree; a person should not be... impaled so. Not like that. It revolted her.

Daveth nodded, and swung into the saddle easily. There was no sense of malice or regret for what he’d done to the Angel Queen’s corpse.

“Was that ... necessary?” She asked, as he swung his horse around.

“I don’t care, as long as it works.” He replied, and she got a good look at his eyes. He knew, or at least a part of him already knew.

“Audra... was one of the fallen, L-” She choked on the title. Should such personal news be delivered so coldly? She quickly glanced around. No one would ever know. “...Daveth.” She finished awkwardly.

He nodded dully, and then held up his hands and curled them into massive fists. She’d seen those fists pound through stone. “I almost wish the Angel Queen were alive again, so that I could kill her all over again.” He snarled. “She turned our scouts into a reliable fucking unit. She deserved more than...” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

The rest of the ride back to camp was done in silence.

*****

“Stronghammer said you rode out with the corpse of the Angel Queen.” Aldric offered by way of greeting.

Daveth nodded. “Stuck her on a pike in the most offensive way possible and planted her in the middle of the road to let them know we mean business.”

Aldric blinked a few times at this. “You know man, Audra, she-” Aldric began, but Daveth moved his hand in a cutting-off gesture.

“I know.” He replied simply.

Aldric grimaced. “Dammit man, I’m trying to-” He cut himself off, seemed to change his mind and added, “I know you and her-” He cut himself off again, and tried again. “It’s all right to mourn her, Daveth.”

“I got my vengeance.” Daveth replied quietly. “The rest... I’ll do ...later.” He finished.

He gestured at the elven man in the gold and red patterned armor. “Who’s he?”

“Commander Malacath of the Therannian elves.” Aldric offered. “He’s been telling me about the area.”

“Oh, we’ve heard about Therannia already.” Daveth snapped back.

“No shit.” Aldric replied.

Daveth eyed the elven man carefully. His reddish hair was cropped short except for a tail that was secured with beads.

“...Why’s your armor covered in metal feathers?” Daveth asked curiously.

The elven man smiled warmly. “It’s because we revere the Original Phoenix.”

“The ... what? What’s a ‘phoenix’?” Daveth asked.

Aldric facepalmed, but the commander simply smiled again. “There aren’t many of the Originals left, anymore. I hear there are two in the lands you come from, the Immortal Tree and the Unnamed Stone. We revere the Phoenix. We etch her wings and feathers into our armor and pray to her for strength, guidance and protection.”

“...The phoenix.” Daveth muttered. Something tickled in his memory as he took a seat across from the elf, who raised his eyebrow at Daveth’s massive size. The elven man would come up to Daveth’s breastbone, like Audra- Daveth cut the thought off quickly.

The man nodded. “The phoenix.”

“The Phoenix protects.” Daveth muttered, and Malacath nodded. “Just so! I’m surprised one such as you has heard of her.”

Daveth scratched his head. “I think I might have met her, once. Not sure. It’s all.... Jumbled in my head.”

The commander’s eyes opened wide. “Surely you have been blessed with Her protection.” He agreed. “Have you prayed often?”

Daveth blinked and looked to Aldric, who shook his head.

“I’m supposed to pray to her?” He asked confusedly. Malacath gave him an equally befuddled look.

“You don’t? Forgive me for saying so, but those blessed by her holy favor are unstoppable on the field of battle.”

Aldric pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“Setting aside this talk of Patrons, fascinating as it is, we’ve got some choices to make. I think it’d be wise to discuss things with Yukiko when she returns.”

*****

Aldric paced around the room while Daveth and Malacath discussed the Phoenix in low voices.

“You’re supposed to pray to her. You know, for guidance, for strength, for protection.” Malacath urged.

“Why would I do that?” Daveth argued, confused.

“Haven’t there been times when you needed help beyond what you were capable of on your own? Questions you needed answers to? Things like that?” The elf asked curiously.

Daveth gave Malacath a baffled look. “I don’t understand why I should pray in the first place.” Daveth rebutted.

The elf raised an eyebrow and shook his head disbelievingly.

Aldric paused in his pacing and planted his hands on his hips, impatient for the arrival of the Yamato priestess.

“He’s talking about Ankar-Set, Daveth.” Aldric blew out an annoyed breath.

Daveth gave Aldric a baffled look. “That place was a shithole, Aldric, you know it as well as I.” Daveth stated, and Aldric nodded.

“Remember that one building we were trapped in with that swarm? How many of our men did you see praying?”

Daveth shrugged indifferently. Praying was commonplace on the battlefield, though he didn’t much see the point of it, himself. He said as much to Aldric who nodded alongside Malacath.

“Think about how it might have gone if you’d asked for help and your Patron listened?” Aldric prodded.

“Well, do they?” Daveth asked.

Aldric threw up his hands in an exasperated sigh. “Where the fuck is that Priestess, I swear-” Aldric muttered.

Malacath nodded at Daveth. “It’s true, it’s hard to catch the attention of your Patron.” He nodded. “Most times you don’t even know if they’re even listening.” He shrugged. “I’ve heard stories, though. People blessed by their Patrons. Sometimes it’s just a feeling of comfort when you’re knee-deep in the dead. The Phoenix’s gentle breath, warming your heart and bringing comfort as the arrows are falling all around you.” He shrugged. “There are other stories, too, but they’re nonsense. Like finding a magical item just when you needed it. A weapon, appearing in your hand as if by magic.” He paused. “Utter nonsense.” But he smiled up at the giant. “Still though, it’s... comforting to know that your Patron is looking out for you, ready to scoop up your soul from the battlefield when you fall.”

Aldric rolled his eyes and grinned. “The kind of existential problems Daveth finds himself in can easily be resolved by his “hit things and keep hitting them until they stop moving” philosophy.” Aldric offered sarcastically.

“Exi-... what?” Daveth asked, and Malacath barked a laugh. “Truly you’re a man to be envied, Commander.”

“I’m not an idiot, I can tell when I’m being mocked-” Daveth began, rising from the table, Malacath goggling at the giant’s stature.

“Sorry, Daveth. I’m just pissed the fuck off that the Void-crazed Priestess has yet to-”

“Was there something you needed to discuss with me, Captain?” Yukiko called out from the floor beneath theirs.

“There’s a-” Daveth blurted, confused, moving to the stairs leading down.

“Sort of.” The Priestess called. “There’s no way up for me. Can you do something about that?”

Aldric stood there, jaw working, and then shouted for someone from the Tross as he peered into the lightless depths.

“Need some torches, here.” Aldric called, and Malacath moved to join him.

“Ah, allow me, then.” Malacath offered, and held up his glove in front of his face. He spoke a single word of some incomprehensible language, and his glove flared to light, shedding a warm glow.

Daveth moved to the stairs, and with the help of Malacath’s spell, could see that the stairwell was mostly buried in the ground, with large chunks of rubble blocking off any descent.

A pale hand slipped between two large slabs of stone and waved. “Down here.”

“Mmm. Don’t think we’ll be able to move those.” Malacath muttered. “There has to be another way down there if she was able to get through there.” He raised his voice. “Can’t you go around that way?”

The hand disappeared, and the woman’s dry, sarcastic voice floated back up to them. “I would use it, if I could see my way down here.”

Aldric eyed Daveth. “You think you could move one of them?” He asked curiously.

Daveth shrugged his massive shoulders, and then gestured above them, to the ceiling. “Shine your light up there.”

Malacath pointed with his hand, revealing smaller fractured chunks of masonry.

“If we clear some of those... maybe.” Daveth decided, and then approached the fall of debris.

*****

Davetrh shoved a slab of marble from the top of the pile and it fell twenty feet to the stairwell where it shattered, fragments spinning across the floor.

“Lord Captain, Is that safe..?” Lynnabel asked Aldric curiously. Commander Malacath eyed Daveth from his perch up at the top of the rubble, scrabbling around for a foothold.

“I agree, this does seem dangerous.” Malacath advised. “Who knows what he could do- bring half the building down if he’s not careful. It might be wise to bring in some of my spellknights and see what we can do.”

Aldric eyed the man. “How many of you are mages?” He asked curiously.

Malacath blinked at the question and tugged on the lock of his hair that he’d allowed to grow long.

“I’m not sure I understand the question, Captain. If you’re asking me how many of us have magical talent, then the answer would be that we all do, to some degree.” He paused, and eyed Daveth again. “Though our disciplines tend to vary from person to person.”

Aldric raised an eyebrow at that. Was Malacath an indication of the rest of Therannia? He shot that idea down quickly. The peasants they’d encountered had avoided mages, so maybe not all of them.

“Tell me, Commander Malacath, you and your men... You left Therannia, right?”

“To escape Emperor Malachi’s madness, yes.” Malacath confirmed.

“So... where were you going to go?” Aldric asked the elf.

“I...” The mage-knight shook his head. “I didn’t think that far ahead. We just needed to get away, captain. Malachi was ... he was poison. Listening to foul voices beyond the Black. Sacrificing ... well, I never found out how many people he butchered for his... Obsidian Palace.” He spat the name with disgust and loathing.

He paced irritably. “At first, it was paramount that we get the people to safety.” He began, tapping his fist into his hand. “It wasn’t right, the things he did. It was all so... wrong.” He looked at the human captain. “The things I’ve seen... the things I was made to bear witness to...” His eyes searched Aldric’s, and then dropped. “Anyone would have done what I did.”

“Go on.” Aldric encouraged as another chunk of stone fell and shattered.

We left. I gathered the men I knew I could trust, men I knew felt the same way as I. We gathered what supplies we could, pushing the smallfolk ahead of us as we went. They didn’t need to see what-” He stopped and shook his head.

“I don’t really know what we were planning to do, Captain Aldric. I just knew that we couldn’t stay there any longer.” Malacath finished. “I don’t know if I’ve sacrificed my men by bringing them into this land of madness-” his voice broke off as a slab of stone roughly twice the size of a human sheared away from the wall and hit the ground and broke apart.

As they waved the dust from their faces, Alysia stepped through the lancet windows and saluted to Aldric and peered up at the shadowy spot where Daveth was at.

“That looks dangerous, Lord Captain.” Alysia advised, and shot him a concerned look. “Perhaps the Lord Commander should-”

“I’m fine.” Daveth hollered down, his voice thick with irritation. “For now.” He finished in a grumble.

“Okay...” Aldric began slowly, and then stopped. “Daveth, I think you should stop for a bit. Find a nice spot to park your ass and have a bowl.” He eyed Alysia and Lynnabel. “Gather the men; let’s haul out some of the stone he’s dislodged already.”

Alysia and Lynnabel eyed each other and nodded, Lynnabel headed out of the building while Alysia grappled with a massive slab of stone nearly as tall as she was.

“Are they...” Malacath began curiously.

“They’re pretty strong. Probably stronger than most of the men under me.” Aldric replied simply.

“I was going to ask if they were Wolfsblood.” He asked smoothly.

Alysia immediately shoved the slab of stone to the side and looked up at the elf.

“You have heard of us?” She asked. Her voice carried hints of emotion that Aldric wasn’t able to pin down. Wariness? Curiosity? Did she feel threatened?

“I had the honor of meeting some of your... sisters.” Malacath replied. “Many years ago. They were as formidable as they were honorable. They wanted to ...work for us, for a time.” He paused, and thumbed his hairless chin as he reflected in thought. “Therannia doesn’t ...” he paused. “We prefer to solve our own problems ourselves. They could not find work in our lands, and they left, heading south into the Wasteland.”

“The Wasteland?” Aldric asked curiously.

Malacath nodded firmly. “South of here, across what the humans once called Montesilvano, past the Ouro Wall is Therannia. Incidentally, If you head west from Therannia far enough, you will encounter the Breakwall mountains that border the lands of the Tamba-Komoti.”

“Tamba-Komoti...” Aldric mused. “I’ve heard of them from my history lessons. The Lyonesse used to raid them for slaves, before both nations were absorbed into the Anglish Empire.”

Malacath gave a small but indifferent shrug. The history of humans was irrelevant to him.

“South of Therannia is a desolate land, that as far as we know holds no life. It’s said that fire boils from the sky in perpetuity, endlessly punishing the land of the dead.”

“...Osk.” Aldric breathed.

Malacath blinked in confusion at that. “Osk?”

Aldric spun away, shouting for maps. Malacath followed in Aldric’s wake, his face a mask of puzzlement and curiosity.

“What is... Osk?” the elven commander asked him.

“The First City of the Anglish Empire.” Aldric muttered. He tipped his head towards Malacath. “Well, in myth and legend. The birthplace of the first Anglish Empress.” a man brought a box containing maps, which Aldric spread across the large stone table.

He selected one that showed a continent. “This is Rothgar, a continent.” He touched the northwestern area. “Therannia.” he slid his hand east. “Blackwall.” He slid his hand further along the northern edge of the continent, listing off the countries. “Ardeal and Urdistan. Here, the country of Lyonesse, and here, the Black Plateau of Sarkomand.” his hand slid further east. “Silesia.”

He moved his hand down the coast. “Metzcal is here. Montesilvano is... here. He slid his hand back to the coast. “The lands of the Tamba-Komoti were supposed to be here.” he circled a large portion of land with his finger. “They once had a huge empire, it was said, before infighting and frequent raids from the Lyonesse broke them apart.” He moved his hands to the bottom of the continent. “Osk. Seat of the First Empire of the Golden Lady. It’s said...” He trailed off, racking his brain. “The Saint Katarina once journeyed to Osk. It was said that the city was shrouded under perpetual flame, an eternal punishment against those that had wronged The Golden Lady.”

Malacath blinked. “Who is the Golden Lady?”

Aldric gaped at the man for a moment, and then barked a laugh. “One of the False Gods that died in the War of Liberation.”

Malacath’s eyes widened. “My great-grandfather fought in the War of Liberation.” He breathed. “It was said that the skies rained blood the day the False Gods were banished from the world.”

Aldric nodded. “It’s a hard thing to talk about, since the Anglish were Her chosen people.” he shook his head. “No one wants to admit that they shit the bed.”

Aldric tapped the map. “You say that Therannia is here?” He asked curiously. Malacath nodded.

“Hmm.” Aldric nodded. After a moment, he looked up and eyed Alysia, standing nearby.

“The fuck you think you are doing? That stone’s not going to move itself, you know.”

Alysia snorted and went back to work.

“You never answered my question, though, Commander Malacath. What do you plan to do? Find a new place to call home?”

Malacath fingered his red-and-gold armor and frowned in thought. “I don’t know.” He finally admitted.

“Would you like to help us?” Aldric asked gently.

Malacath’s eyes hardened. “What would you have of us?” He asked guardedly.

“The same from any man under my command. A quest to do the right thing. Stand against injustice.” He explained his motivations for forming the Seventh Seal, what he strove to accomplish, his dreams, his wishes. The battles they’d fought, and why.

*****

Alysia wrestled away a chunk of stone from the stairwell and looked up into the gloom around the ceiling, seeing the lambent coal of Daveth’s pipe. He was idly swinging his feet.

“I hate boats.” She called up to him. His feet stopped.

“I know.” Daveth agreed.

“And fish.” Alysia added.

“Probably. Your sister didn’t seem to mind them when we stopped in Hitotsuna.”

Alysia gave him a smile. “She doesn’t care for them either.”

There was silence for a bit, and then Daveth called down, “I hate peas.”

Alysia blinked. “Peas, Lord Commander?”

“A disgusting vegetable. Their texture is like paste. You might remember; we’ve had to eat plenty whenever we visited Tannit.”

She shrugged at that. Vegetables were vegetables.

“Do you think you’ll be able to clear this rubble away?” Alysia asked curiously.

Daveth’s feet started kicking again. “Don’t think so. I’d have to be three times as strong as I am, I think.”

“Then what-” She began, and then stopped. “Why are you-” She stopped again.

“I think I can wedge this stone partway open, I think. Just a big enough gap for the esteemed Priestess of the Yamato to squeeze through.” He explained, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Ah.” She replied. He couldn’t tear down the wall, but he could make a breach in it. She nodded.

“I will help you.” She decided, and moved to climb the wall.

“You’d have a hard time climbing in that armor. Come back in your leathers and climb up here and I’ll show you what I plan...” he trailed off, “Just as soon as that asshole elf comes back here with that light.”

Alysia shed her plate armor and scaled the wall and heaved herself up to sit beside Daveth.

“You see this stone here?” Daveth gestured pointlessly in the dark, though Alysia could see what he was pointing at. She didn’t have the enhanced sight that the Gold Sisters possessed, but she could see well enough to pick out an obdurate, blocky shape.

“If I can get it to slide down between these two slabs, it might hit that notch.” he pointed lower. “I think the force of the strike will cause the part we’re sitting on to break apart just enough to create a gap.”

Alysia shifted uncomfortably on her perch.

“This... is not wise, Lord Commander.” She murmured, her voice low. “You could die.”

He puffed on his pipe and in the glow she could see the expressionless blankness in his eyes.

“I don’t care.” He replied, his voice flat, without inflection.

“The Lord Captain-” She began, but Daveth shook his head. “He’ll be fine. I can see him.” he pointed towards the lit area of the chamber, where Aldric and Malacath were in discussion.

“The elf’ll join up. He and his ... bird-worshipping ... fighters. They’ve got nowhere else to go. Aldric’s a good man. They’ll fight for him well enough.” Daveth whispered. “Eventually, Malacath will convince Aldric he should turn the Seal south. They’ll march to Therannia and stand against their mad king. I know how his mind works.” He smirked, but his face only stretched; there was no humor in his eyes. There was nothing in his eyes.

She wanted to reach out to him, but as her hand moved, he shifted away from her. “You should go down. When the stone collapses, you’ll be needed to shift it so that the Priestess can get through.”

“Daveth...” She began hesitantly. His name felt strange in her mouth. “Do you remember the night in Nauders, after our victory?” She asked hesitantly.

“Nope.” He replied. “I remember I was drunk, though.” He snorted dryly. “I’m sorry I failed to live up to your expectations as a commander, though.”

He pushed himself to his feet and knocked his pipe against the carved stone, sending embers scattering down the stone slab. “Get on down there, soldier.” he gestured.

“Daveth, you didn’t-” She began, but she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say. He had to remember, himself. That was what she had decided.

“That's an order, soldier. Down the wall.” he commanded, and Alysia glared at him, wanting to punch him, to bring him back to his senses, but before the world, there was the Order, and the Order was strength, discipline, and honor. Daveth was a part of the world.

She swallowed her words and descended down the wall.