[40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]

That is Teloran. Shit.

“Fiendish Leader, he was a-”

“Knight-Officer.”

“...Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s my reaction too.”

The evidence of this scene is shockingly clear. I can imagine the fight almost exactly.

Lakyus cast her gaze down, evaluating the stains, shards of shattered and vitreous glass, and chunks of metal shrapnel. She lowered herself onto her haunches to take a closer look at the debris.

Scattered metal. Chunks of mithril… those are shards of Climb’s armor. The carpet was pushed out of the way - I can't imagine fighting on it. The blade of a dagger that snapped off from the looks of it.

“Evileye, what do you think.”

All five members of the team were present. Lakyus, Gagaran, and Tia had bid the King and his associates into the hands of the Royal Guard. Jelka immediately set about establishing a temporary command post on the third floor, unifying other disparate groups of knights, and trying to establish a general understanding of the tactical situation. This is something Lakyus was not unadroit at, but the team was better served in sweeping the palace, and she was able to break the Blue Roses away from standing sentry to the King. Swiftly running downstairs to grab their companion, Tia had spotted her twin. For her part, after being directed by a unit of city patrolmen, she had found Gazef unconscious and in the care of a priest. She left him there and made her way back to Valencia. The entirety of the Blue Rose dashed back up, Lakyus informing them of Tia’s words. The realization that Barbro was not only a traitor wont to innaction, but actively plotting against his family and siblings.

“That long shard there, pick it up for me.”

For some reason Lakyus didn’t understand, Evileye was communicating entirely by mass message spell. Gagaran had both her and the prisoner slung over her shoulder, bearing the two of them without breaking a sweat. Lakyus moved her hand, grabbing a long chunk in the shape of a prism. Closer inspection revealed it to be half of a blade that had been broken apart upon its ridge.

“I’ve not made a habit of studying materials, but that looks like an ætheric stress fracture. Probably the same thing that happened to your hammer.”

“Shorty, you’re gonna need to explain-”

“It means Climb suffered a wound that would have killed most, lived through it, and then killed Barbro’s dog.”

“Gods, that boy is dedicated.”

“He is. Set me down, the prisoner too.”

Gagaran threw off the prisoner, still unconscious. By this point, he had been out so long she knew he wouldn’t be woken up by anything but healing magics, so she felt fine letting him hit the floor. She set Evileye down gently.

“Thank you. Has he been interrogated?”

“No.”

“I won’t kill him then.”

Evileye torqued her body, and after bringing her hands under her, dragged her way over to the man. Before anyone could muster a response to her words, she pulled off her mask and sunk her teeth deep into his neck. No one knew what to say, just the quiet sounds of her drinking mixed with the whispers of candle flames. Gagaran, as she was wont, broke it first.

“Does uh… he taste good?”

“It wouldn’t matter. This is the best meal I’ve had in a hundred years.”

“Right… Oh! You mean like digging into a rack of ribs after a long day.”

“Doesn’t matter how sick the pig was, it tastes good anyways.”

“I couldn’t have come up with a more hick comparison if I tried Tina, but yes.”

Lakyus blinked, suddenly feeling appreciation for Evileye’s sarcasm. It was a welcome relief from the grimness of the night. Any aversion she felt to Evileye faded as she watched her feed, her previously held reservations vanishing. Evileye was an undead, Evileye was a vampire. These facts turned mundane for Lakyus, and she truly internalized the nature of her comrade. She chose to speak next.

“Will you be able to recover with that?”

“I already am, this will just speed things up.”

“Good.”

“That Climb managed to do this is impressive. Teloran was a stout fighter in his own right - at least he should have been to advance to his rank.”

“I think we can all say that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he had a shot at our line of work.”

“You think, boss? Not as an-”

“I’d doubt he’d make it past mithril. But a duel like this? He’d make silver, maybe gold as is. Evileye is underselling him; he’s not just dedicated, he’s indefatigable - sanguine even. If he and Renner are gone, that means he’s likely already gotten her to safety. Tia, do you think anyone else has been to this wing?”

“Impossible to tell.”

“Guess.”

“Not likely. Had any palace Knights or Eight Fingers men come down this hall, they wouldn’t have left his body there.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Fiendish Leader?”

“Yes?”

“What are we gonna do?”

What are we going to do? Even if the facts of the scene were clear - which by all rights they are - that would mean nothing against the word of the Crown Prince. He would be able to claim any absurdity he wished; that he had ordered his man to the side of the Princess to protect her, that her bodyguard was some “rabid no-blood” who put her at risk. Infuriating

Lakyus couldn’t find a response, and slipped into silence. That question had been looming in the back of her mind since she was first told by Tia, and she could find no clear resolution. All five of them blanched, no one knowing what to say or to do. After it became clear Lakyus wasn’t going to speak, Tia pushed.

“Killing a Knight. That’s… uh-”

“It’s capital.”

“Gods.”

Think clearly, if we do nothing, Teloran’s body will be found and Climb will be slung from the gallows. He is valuable, the only person solely dedicated to not just protecting the palace, or house Vaiself, but the princess herself. That’s not a distinction I ever hoped to make, but it's true.

“We need to fix this for Climb.”

For Renner, too. It’s pretty clear she’s infatuated with him. He gets executed, who knows what that’d do to her. I don’t want to see my friend fall into a depression. I should feed Teloran to- No, I ought to destroy him.

Lakyus took a few steps forward and around the corner towards Teloran’s corpse. She drew Kilineiram, the black of its form speckled with occasional flakes of candle light reflected from the imperceptible imperfections of its surface. Leveling the blade at the body, she brought it closer until its tip was only a finger length away from the back of his torso. She pulled in a long breath, filling her lungs with air. This steadied her, and she spoke the midnight words to rouse her sword to its task.

“Consumption.”

A short pulse along its length, the gem at its center seeming to glitter with inverted color. A black bolt broke from its tip, drawing the light of the space into it. It struck Teloran, wrenching the soundscape as it did so - the noise was as if, all at once, a thousand men had their deathrattles. His armor bent inward at the site of contact, crunching the flesh along with it. It seemed as if he would continue to fold in on himself, but suddenly a jet of what seemed to be dark dust burst from the breach. Lakyus could not help but find it reminiscent of Laira smoke. His body and armor he had worn began to fall apart, portions breaking at brittle angles before crumbling and sublimating into the air. The last of the pieces dissolved away, the puddle of blood that he had laid in flash boiling and spitting more into the air. As if brought by air current, the motes of dust that remained in the air began to swirl around the length of Kilineiram, before falling and melting into its surface as did snowflakes against ground. Then, it was done. Within eight seconds, Teloran’s mortal vessel was wiped from the face of existence.

“Teloran was not here. Is that clear?”

Her four companions responded simultaneously.

“Yes.”

—

Renner’s feet slipped off the ground, and she fell. She struck the ground a moment later, the right side of her body rattling against the tile floor. The impact jarred her, cutting off a short cry of hers as her jaw snapped shut. She preemptively cringed, half-expecting a kick. It did not come.

He’s failed, hasn’t he?

A few gasps, before the room fell dead silent. Renner suppressed a few cries, not even needing to do so poorly; such was the quiet that she could be heard regardless. Those sounds mixed with those of her brother’s breathing, labored and agonized as it was. Everything was frozen. Barbro broke it first, his timbre uncertain and illfit.

“I don’t have time for my sister's mewling. We- we are to find my father. To protect the King.”

Why else would he let himself be drawn around by Rochefort? He knows Teloran is not returning to him. Those wounds, if self-inflicted, are a sign of his turmoil. Others with keen eyes will surely notice. What a wonderful thing you’ve done for me brother. I ought to draw myself off the floor immediately. Appear resilient in the face of his rage. Indomitability is a virtue.

“Rochefort, Keveleos, you are to come with me, and we are to rescue him.”

Pulling them away for an assault here, redirecting them from the actual course to my father, or making yourself a twice-turncoat? Many things it could be, though I am wont to hope for the latter.

Renner placed her palms up under her, and began to raise herself up. This triggered a pattering from one of the corner-huddling maids, rushing over to bid Renner onto her feet. After a moment, the entire group broke for Renner. Renner reached to the hand of one, and let herself be drawn up with her assistance. Spying her face, she saw it was Maid Nunia. She gave a weak profession of gratitude, her own tears soaking her visage.

“Thank you.”

Perhaps he has no earthly idea of his plans. That strike of his - as much as it does hurt - is beginning to feel like a blessing.

“Rochefort! Keveleos!”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.”

“Yes, Crown Prince.”

“Ready your men, we’re departing.”

Is he genuine?

The faces of all those in the room drew tighter, the scene ratcheting to new heights. Again things fell into silence, no one able to quite piece together Barbro’s words. Mortal fear seeped into the space, having already been vanquished by the presence of men-at-arms. That that was to be ripped away again seemed an ill-timed joke on the part of the prince. Keveleos bore himself up, and dared a response.

“But… what of those here, Your Highness?”

“So what? We have to make our way to the side of His Majesty.”

Brother, my Gods! Are you so content to shatter your reputation?! First assaulting me, and then without halt, completely disregarding the whims of those around you to seek a false glory? Surely your co-conspirators will simply run at the sight of your face. So you’re only interested in a coward’s victory too?

“I am not willing to leave those here without a guard.”

Daring play, though it beggars the question of why bother running counter to the Crown Prince’s will. Is he trying to appeal to me?

“Are you refusing my command?”

“Let me leave at least a pair of my men here. Between them and the Princess’s Adjutant-”

Mistake to mention him.

“That no-blood bastard is here?”

“Yes, and he bore your sister, her Highness Renner, from danger.”

“From danger?”

“He too bears upon him the marks of combat. My man is knitting his wounds as we speak.

“He’s being treated. Why- no, who did he-”

Barbro cut himself off, jerking his head down a moment later. His eyes darted along the floor as he ground his teeth. He was shaking, the sort of fury that boiled under the skin and caused it to spasm. Another moment, and he pulled his face back up to stare at Renner. She dodged his gaze sheepishly, neither of them more than a pace apart.

You robbed yourself of any course forward. You can’t pry any more information out of I, or Keveleos, lest it point to your order to end my life. Asking who Climb killed-

“Who did Climb protect you from?”

What?! Brother-dearest, you’re burning every gain of yours to ash! I dare not let my thoughts trip over themselves in shock. A new paradigm for my brother, assume he is to speak the worst possible words. A simple evasion to draw it out more ire?

“I… um, I didn’t-”

“Speak.”

Yes, this works. The social leverage I am to wring from you brother.

“I didn’t… uh…um-”

“Speak damn it!”

“Your Highness! Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this line of questioning is absurd. Your sister is distraught.”

So Rochefort found his voice too? It is the right thing to say, even if he’s just mimicking his better. Ah, I should respond in my brother’s stead, and do so with greater clarity to tighten his threads.

“No… it’s, it’s alright. I can… um, I can speak to the… uh, matter.”

Renner hiccuped a few times, her voice anguished and unsteady. She pulled her hand from Nunia’s - still being flanked with maid staff - and wicked a few tears away from her face with its back.

“He- uh. He fought… someone outside my room. There, um, there was a lot of um… and I didn’t, uh...”

“Speak! For the love of the Gods! To think I was cursed with such a fool of a sister.”

And I blessed with you.

“There was a lot of blood. I didn’t… um, get a good look at um… the… man. I’m sorry, brother.”

“That’s it, that’s all you have to say?!”

Renner let herself start, jumping slightly at his shout. She broke down entirely, her apologies slurring into an incoherent mess of half enunciated syllables and gulps of air. She covered her mouth, and after giving a stuttered nod to her brother, turned away.

I see you now, brother. I see that you truly are the fool I marked you for.

“We- We are to depart.”

Barbro’s proclamation was met with little response, the only that came being entirely unsympathetic. Renner sought a chair, taking a few tentative steps deeper into the room. She found an empty one quickly, some chivalrous baron swiftly vacating in the eve of her arrival, and lowered herself into it as best she could.

Where I was thrust into this nocturn with nary a rung to grip too, I manifested a foundation from the æther itself upon which to stand. I built a set of base assumptions, a course of action that I could use to leverage an escape from your whims. I made decisions, tore the night apart with every mote of my ability. Within an instant of my head being cleared of the intemperant fog of drink, I knew you were my hunter, and I knew the others you had tracked to kill as well. I slipped us through patrols, and when confronted with an account of my puppy’s deeds, mourned our way past deeper inspection. There, I ripped a route and a horse from one of my enemies. While I found clear failures in my earliest of plans, and those I have yet to piece or soothsay, I have not fallen in any moment that does not benefit me greatly.

“But, Your Highness!”

“Leave your men if you wish, Keveleos. She can keep her no-blood too.”

What of you, brother-dearest? You had this night handed to you on a platter, and yet you lost it none-the-less. You commanded your closest man into the charnel on an errant whim that could have been dealt with after. I know not who or how you planned to slay my father; surely he would be better served in that endeavor. Even as a sentry by your side, he would have played a better part. Reverse those, Teloran as sentry is the only effective and efficient use for that man. He could corroborate a tale of heroism, you already struck upon yourself a convincing enough wound for that part. What a wonderful boon that could be? But no; you threw him into the jaws of my dog, and his neck broke like a twig.

“I assent, Your Highness.”

“Good to see you still have your wits. Let’s go.”

Your betrayal has become clear to those around you, has it not? Your words to me are so strange as to be nonsensical without knowledge of your intention. Thus, they point to it, bidding any to the conclusion that your name is a treasonous one. If not, I am about to make it known to the Blue Roses, and surely it would not take much coin to rip this from the backrooms of Eight Fingers. This will slip into the sun-touched parts of the merchant community. Even if only a rumor, it will grace the ears of Imperial and Theocracy underhands. They’ll see it flow from the top down. Another damming mark against you. Whether this gains traction in high circles is another matter entirely, and I doubt it will be an openly spoken conspiracy. Never-the-less, things are to swirl, and they are to rob you of any further chance of advancement. Bolloupe may be a persistent man, and he may fight to exalt you once more, but he will not find the capital for a genuine promotion. You have lost the crown.

Barbro did not move, standing arms crossed by the door.

“You want us to-”

“Take point? Of course! What sort of question is that? I am the Crown Prince! You couldn’t possibly expect me to move first as vanguard. Did everyone suddenly forget the existence of House Vaiself?!”

I let something slip my attention in my exaltation of Barbro’s idiocy. My puppy can kill. That is… useful. Lakyus could, though the degree that I have any true control over her actions is doubtful. I could perhaps convince her to commit an act of treason, but not against her fellows, and nothing she would deem unheroic. Climb, he would require less. He would require far less. He defeated Teloran too. Is he strong? Gazef’s eyes light when I speak of him, but I thought that was out of a warrior’s favor to a fellow honorbound man, not a genuine respect of his ability. Interesting. This bids further investigation.

Keveleos flicked his hand to two of his men, Renner suspecting their selection meant little. Rochefort did too, adding another to stay with the diaspora. Both counts, and the bulk of their men strode out the door. Barbro exited last, slamming the door shut as one final act of violence. Renner let herself morn louder, tears she had seemed to suppress stemming freely from her face.

In any case. I’m to emerge from this night alive, and with my name, house, and regality intact. I suppose I… rolled well? It surely seems like there was chance at play in this outcome. Bolloupe has that phrase of his he uses at war councils? “Hard six?” No matter, whatever the true meaning is not of concern. I am to remain the Golden Princess Renner, with no affixation of “Renegade” or “Late”.

Renner, despite the importance of her act, could not help but let her eyes gleam a little brighter.

—

Gazef had no flowery awakening, simply jarring from the nothingness of his sleep to a sudden and painful consciousness.

That hurts.

Even in his thoughts, he remained understated. He felt like he had been set alight, every part of experiencing a unique and distinct burning sensation. The right side of his face had been literally burned, the heat of the fireball having cooked his skin; his chest was a collection of pinpricks, each breath seeming to drive them deeper into his body; somehow, even his toes felt as if they had been dipped in magma. His right arm was the worst of it, the etches carved by the lich’s ichor feeling like they each contained a blaze. He flexed it, finding that the flesh was indeed mended, but the pain was not gone.

“Middle Cure Wounds.”

Gazef was filled with the sensation of warmth, the agonies of his body being swept up and vanquished. Much of the pain abated, though the dull afterimage was left lingering in his arm. He opened his eyes to see an older woman - at least older than him - dressed in the garb of a priestess of the Six. The shading of her outfit, and the amulet that hung round her neck marked her as a servant of Alah Alaf, the God of life. The relief was only temporary, the pain flooding back a moment later.

The lich’s bile is still in my body, isn’t it? Probably got into my blood.

“...Can… you cast… a curse removal?”

“Oh! Of course.”

She drew her hands together, uttering a murmured prayer under her breath. Her blond hair was long, the earliest streaks of gray beginning to show along its length. The candlelight of the space framed her face as she whispered, catching its edges in brilliant relief. The room was small - the arched ceiling barely four spans high at its zenith - and although Gazef could probably have turned and looked to see the full expanse of the space, he suspected it was not much larger. When she finished, she reached out and pressed into his arm, speaking aloud the final words of the incantation as she did so.

“Remove Curse.”

A second, more lasting wave of warmth filled him. The burning quenched completely, and as the soothing qualia of her divine magics faded, so did any trace of the flux from his blood. Everything left was now mundane, the base aches of sore muscles and raw bruises.

“Thank you.”

“O-of course. I must apologize, I would have done so earlier, but I didn’t recognize it as a negative energy wound. Never treated anything like it. I’ve seen scars caused by the undead before, but those looked unique. How did you even get them?”

“Piece of advice. If you get your arm torn apart, don’t ram a lich right after.”

She laughed gently, bringing her hand to her mouth as she did so.

“That’s a new one for me.”

“For me, too.”

“I wish they had told me when they brought you in. It was a bunch of guardsmen, though the half of them looked right panicked. Had I known you had been accosted by a necrotic being, it would have made the whole lot of this easier. I thought you had some strange poison running in your veins. Unsure which one though, so I’ve been trying tinctures on you.”

“I probably do.”

“You do? I thought you said you fought a lich.”

“I did fight a lich… and a monk, and four bladesmen, including an illusionist, a blade-dancer, an armor fighter, and a fencer.”

She paused and pursed her lips. After an instant, she broke back into motion, turning to retrieve a small vial from the table beside her.

“And they all poisoned their weapons?”

“I don’t know how a monk would poison his fists.”

Her face tightened, giving a look of greater concern. She set down the vial she had grabbed, and instead reached for another. She pulled away its glass stopper, and then dabbed it gently against a cloth, which she then set on his skin. If his earlier state had felt like flame, this felt like ice, or perhaps a mix of the two.

“Did anyone come for me?”

“A girl, or maybe a woman? I couldn’t tell. She was short. Only about two thirds my height. Not that well dressed either. She said she had been sent by a guard unit, and that she was looking for the Warrior-Captain. She walked in, took one look at you, asked if you were alive, and when I told her yes, ran out without saying another word.”

Stout, curt, ill-dressed. That sounds like…

“Did she have a tie in her hair?”

“Yes, a red one. You know her?”

“That was Tina of the Blue Roses.”

“Wait, one of the Twin Killers?”

“Yes.”

So they’re here. She was looking for me, and after she found out I was alive, ran off - probably back to the palace. Lakyus is likely there now. Hopefully she can stave off whatever’s happening, or beat it outright. I wonder where I am.

“Where-”

“The cathedral in Gainswood. Specifically, one of its backrooms.”

I’ve been taken closer to the palace. Good.

“Why the need to specify?”

“You’d be surprised how much adventurous ilk find cause to interrogate me after they rouse. It ought to be the other way round, y’know.”

“Right.”

Gazef closed his eyes, and let himself sigh internally. He would need to return to the palace and resume his duty. That he had been attacked meant the king may be in danger, and the presence of the Blue Roses seemed to confirm it. He opened his eyes, quickly realizing that the priestess had stopped her work to stare at him.

“I know that look. Speaking of adventurous ilk, they give me that all the time.”

“Are you done?”

“You aren’t seriously thinking of-”

“I have to return to the side of His Majesty.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

She sighed, the gentle lamentation of a healer forced to deal with the valiant. She looked away for a moment, opening and then closing her mouth. She turned back and raised an eyebrow wryly.

“Y’know what? If you can get up, and walk out, I’ll let you.”

Gazef nodded gently. He accumulated his strength, drawing and bracing himself for the pain to come. In a moment, he felt ready to make the attempt, and tried to sit up. There wasn’t a chance in the world. Gazef slammed back down into the table with a grunt, jolting him slightly. He had only drawn himself up a fraction of a finger length, but even that was enough to light his body with suffering anew.

“That’s what I thought.”

She continued applying medicines and salves, before reciting another prayer. After a few more rounds of care, she turned to him with a gleam in her eye.

“Y’know, I’ve never gotten the chance to treat a Warrior-Captain either.”

She winked. Gazef gave a conciliatory smile in response, long since used to drawing the attentions of women.