The usual six. Two in our camp, two in theirs, one for the Emperor, one for himself. If only there was a- Eh, what am I saying? Raeven isn’t an independent. Strange to think that, but the evidence is near undeniable, no? A re-accounting, then; three for my father, two for the nobility, one for the boy - oh, and zero for me. Feckless hands breed absent wills, but a lack altogether leads to comedy in the gap, a slipshod agony of innaction. Does my father know? Likely not. Thus, the rest. Haylor, Bornbrook, Aindra- No wait, Lord Aindra has brought others of his kin. Azuth is here - he who causes necks to font on the regular. Ought that beckon his niece?

Renner swept her gaze round the room. Almost all were in ceremonial white for the winter solstice, a tradition Renner had long since given up trying to understand, for it did not snow in Re-Estize on anything but the rarest of occasions. Her eyes jumped from blond to blond, eventually snagging on one young woman.

Lo, there she stands.

Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra was an enigma to Renner, and by her reckoning was one to the entire room. Tall, blond, fair skinned, she had a sharp face with a daring look. The dates were difficult to pin down, but the youthful Aindra had run away from home at far too young an age to go on a life of adventure. To the surprise of some, she did not die, instead forging ahead in base guildwork. She had accumulated companions as she went, eventually ending up by the side of a near mythical woman, one Rigrit Bers Caurau. To earn the favor of a member of the Thirteen Heroes was unimaginable, much less to fight alongside one in combat, even further so to revive an adamantite team. There were rumors now that the budding Blue Rose was soon to exceed her uncle in the scale of her accomplishments; there were some that said she already had.

She’s seventeen, yet unmarried. Mark me well and truly green. If only I could resist courtship as she has. No, only the ends there, never the means; I don’t believe I’ll find myself trekking the wilderness blade in hand as a marcher-princess befitting the wildest Lairaborn dreams of a hack bard. Are any of her companions here? What do they even count; three, five? Who’s to say the twin-killers are even real, not simply a folk-dream of hack- wait, didn’t I just use that metaphor? Gods above, I must truly be feeble-minded. In any case, perhaps they aren’t real. I doubt it matters, she’s simply wreathed in the stuff of legend - her blades a golden halo. Ah, such comparisons are irresistible. Shame Climb isn’t here. His eyes would light with joy at seeing such a hero of the age. If… if I want that.

He was absent, her brother having thrown a fit at the mere suggestion of his inclusion. This had earned Renner’s ire, though she found herself unable to manifest any concrete revenge; she had lost herself in the subject of Climb. Her thoughts of him had begun to change in character, turning to new and heretofore alien flavors; worse, not only were these emotions unnamed, but she couldn’t control them. Every time she looked in his direction, she felt things well inside her, becoming harder and harder to break her eyes away. His training was the worst of this, his exertions only seeming to consume her thoughts. As of the current moment, she had become enthralled with his sweat slicked hair. She didn’t understand it, feeling she was on the cusp of something she had no name for. Something to do with his body. Something to do with hers. Strangely, there seemed to be a physical response to such thoughts as well; one she hadn’t yet dared to investigate.

It's almost as if I want to do… something with him. I can’t tell what. No, I’m on the verge of many things. Hm, I have a growing inkling as to why father separated him and I. Some deeper fondness between the sexes that I have yet to place, one born from the gap.

Renner allowed herself a click of the tongue, taking one of her semiannual breaks in-performance. This was something that would require more thought, though she felt completely unprepared to do so at the moment. She needed a distraction, after a moment, deciding to seize upon the woman in front of her. Her father had given her the purview to socialize in a freeform manner, tonight more of a ball than any rigidly scheduled event. She weaved through the crowd, arriving in front of what she hoped would be her entertainment.

“Your Highness.”

Ah, she’s captivating.”

“Lady Aindra, how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance.”

“The honor is mine.”

These opportunities come so infrequently. If I cannot have him, why not rip a little enjoyment from this evening without? Something girlish.

“Pray tell, would you be wont to indulge a princess in a heroic tale?”

—

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

She opened her eyes to see the sky alit in fiery oranges. Her face fell into a slack smile as she realized gambit had worked.

And here I find myself to be a woman of the dusk. Is this a sign that I’m vulpine, or merely a hunter of such creatures?

Her stirring had caught the immediate attention of Climb, who for his part was sitting next to her on the lawn, hands clasped. She stretched herself as discreetly as she could, her senses slurring into pinpricks as a rearrangement of her vitality caused her being to lurch. She blinked a few times, preparing her act.

“Good mor- er, evening, Your Highness.”

Well, I suppose last night was good practice for such sudden dives into myself. Or, perhaps stalking into the twilight cathedrals of the great woods. Ah, I am enthralled with that framing. So what of him?

“Good morning, Climb.”

Climb blanched, his mistress not missing the opportunity for mischief. Renner giggled slightly, which involuntarily turned into a yawn a few moments later. As it abated and she found herself back in control of her body, she locked her drooping eyes to him, sleepy blinks not stopping her from devouring his form.

My darling hound. I am so proud of you. That animal which you caught in your jaws is something you should throne upon. One to grow your confidence with, your sense of valor. What wonderful revelations halo your head. I will keep you; I will keep you and I will do so responsibly. You will prosper under my aegis, under my direction, under my care. Now, fetch me another fox, let me don myself in the fineries of violent ends a little more.

Renner flexed her neck before looking around, casting her gaze first left, then up and around. She saw what she had expected to see, a cluster of nobles and military men lurking on the patio, one far smaller than when she went to sleep in the first place.

Good. The foolish tried to stay awake, and are only now slipping off to sleep. Those who slept when I did perceived a degree of safety; that means they either one, were in league and had no expectation of further attack or two - which is far more likely - knew that this would be a faction matter, not one of war with the empire. That no woke me means things are, as expected, politically stable. The conspirators will run flush with the pack, saying exactly what they would have if Barbro had ascended. This next night is going to be lively.

The smell of many fresh baked goods overcame Renner, and she decided to get up and satiate her hunger. The kitchens, while they still had the foodstocks necessary to feed the next few days, had likely given up on attempting to pace. She drew herself up into a sitting position and evaluated her clothing. Her dress had been stained green in several places, and although it was an intentional sacrifice, she couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed at the act. Giving a pensive laugh at her ruined dress, she burrowed her head in her hands and chided herself.

“Eh? Chardelon-Dearest, you’ve made such a mess of yourself.”

“Y-your highness, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“Nor would I.”

Renner snapped around to see that an armored woman had approached without her noticing.

“Lakyus, you scared me.”

“Oh did I? Say, aren’t you kind of a mess?”

“I’m seeing that now.”

Lakyus gave a quizzical look.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you sleep on the lawn?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well. Confidence in the palace’s security is low. If nobles end up running off, that creates a problem for the rest of the council. Any disruption at this stage limits the effectiveness of the Kingdom’s response to this crisis. Though Baharuth is likely - no, almost certainly uninvolved in this plot, any weakness we show to them could be seen as a prelude to war. It's a minor contribution, but me sleeping on the lawn - in view of highbloods - creates a perception of safety. It’s part of my obligation as a member of the royal family, we have to hold to a line-”

“Holding a line with the rest of the royal-”

Lakyus stopped herself, her face quickly twisting into a confused, then anguished, then ruinous look. Climb’s did too, though he lept straight from confusion to ire. It took Renner a moment to realize why.

Ah, they’re disturbed over the matter of Barbro.

“You’re thinking of my brother, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

Her timbre was filled with anger. They fell into silence for a time, Lakyus’s face twitching nervously. She started to shake, her grip on the pommel of Kilerenam turning her knuckles bone white. Renner swallowed involuntarily. It was one thing to hold back Climb from assaulting her brother, the ire of a boy who sought to protect his mistress; it was another matter entirely to be faced with the rage of a woman who had slain hundreds, be they human, beast, monster, or aberration; a woman who led a band capable of toppling nations. Lakyus opened her mouth slowly, her tone low and deadly.

“Your Highness.”

I need to be careful here. If they run off and kill him, Bolloupe and Lytton would immediately take up arms. Everything that I retained by the thinnest of threads last night would be lost from any swing of a blade. Tact above all else.

“Yes, Lakyus?”

“What do you want us to do to him?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can be quiet about it. Tia knows the layout of the-”

“Lakyus, what are you saying?”

“I’m asking you what you want us to do to him. I wouldn’t torture him, but he-”

Draw this out, let her emotions cool.

“Torture?!”

“We wouldn’t do, but we could rip him from that room of his and drag him-”

“Gods above! Lakyus, are you saying you would… harm him?”

“Suggesting? Your Highness- Renner. Are you saying you don’t want us to kill him?”

“Kill?! Gods no! How could you even suggest such a thing?!”

Renner shot her hands to her mouth, holding. Further silence, Lakyus turning her gaze up and away, biting her lip as she did so. A strange noise touched Renner’s ears, like armor shifting against itself; it took her a moment to identify. Lakyus was still in her battlegear, Renner realizing it was the sound of her floating blades jittering.

“Your Highness, isn’t that frightently hypocritical?”

“What?”

“Over the last two months, you’ve had us kill hundreds. Hundreds, Your Highness, and interrogate three dozen more. Am I to understand that your brother is to be excluded from this on the basis of what, his blood?”

This is bad. I need to come up with an immediate reframing. Assure her this isn't because of blood. If I could only call him a rat and be done with things!

“Lakyus, thats-”

“That because he’s your sibling, action against him is wrong? That because you can see the violence, you don’t want to proceed? He’s a traitor. He’s scum. He’s collaborated with Eight Fingers and the Theocracy; he’s working alongside those slavers, both foriegn and domestic. Don’t you care about that? Isn’t that where you got your title from? If that doesn’t matter to you, then what will? He’s responsible for the deaths of three dozen last night.”

Three dozen insects killing insects. True fratricide. All sans Brendel and Ehkan are of no importance.

“But to-”

“When we started this war- No, when you invited us to start this yourself. This assault- this campaign against Eight Fingers, I told you it would be long. When we met, what, a week later? You asked me if this was a mistake, if our slaying this organization and routing the lot of them was a fool’s errand. I told you this would be a long war, a cruel one. A conflict that would drag on till we flushed out and exterminated the leadership. You have to be with us on this issue. Do you understand that?”

“There’s a difference-”

No, it’s impossible to explain that to her while maintaining a guise.

“No, no there isn’t. How could you- Gods. How could you think that? There is no difference between him and the enemies we fight. I don’t know who you think would be capable of this besides us.”

“Lakyus, you misunderstand.”

“I’m not sure if I do. If you’re calm to the point where you can sleep in broad-”

My out! A profession of sheer horror will work.

“Do you think I don’t want to be free of him desperately? Do you think I’m not terrified?! If I thought there was a way for me to ensure he would never threaten I, or Climb, or the Kingdom again, I would take it. I want to run! I want to flee and hide in a place he can never find me. I’m barely holding together.”

“But he-”

Follow up with an escalation of terms. Daze her.

“We’re threading the needle right now, Lakyus. One misstep and this country collapses!”

“What?”

“We’re on the verge of a civil war! House Vaiself can in no way face the forces of Lords Bolloupe, Lytton, and Blumrush!”

“Wait, Lord Blumrush? Why-”

“A concurrent invasion by the Empire, one that dwarfs all previous action; one that if not actively supported by the Theocracy, would happen with its tacit blessing. We would lose that war, our men would be slaughtered at Katze. You’re talking the fruit of a generation ripped away from us. All the wizards and witches that monster has forged from the mantic flame will reap the levy ten to one; their grand champions and warriors will reap one hundred to one. We would have famines by the next harvest. Food reserves would hit nothing within ten, maybe twelve months of the seizure of E-Rantel-”

“Wait, E-Rantel? Back up, explain-”

Though I am exploiting it, how does this not make sense? How dull are you?

“What is there to explain, Lakyus?! E-Rantel would be in the possession of the empire within a year, by the forty-first of Foresai- no, by the first of Ryle. House Vaiself would never be able to mount a siege on Re-Blumrushur, and Re-Estize wouldn’t hold sixty days!”

“I don’t understand!”

“They will not so callously abandon their plans Lakyus! Do you wish to inspire a deeper conflict?”

“Renner, by the will of the Four, stop.”

Renner let her words die in her mouth. Lakyus was breathing heavily, as was Climb, Renner doing the same as to act stressed. A minute’s worth of time passed, each of them letting their bodies slow and their minds calm. Lakyus swallowed, before continuing.

“Your Highness, repeat that in detail.”

“What part?”

“All of it. Why… why would Lord Blumrush side with the Noble Faction in case of a… in case of a civil war?”

Renner cocked her head to her side.

“You really don’t know, do you? Lakyus, Blumrush has been in the pocket of Arwintar since El-Nix ascended to power. Everything he does has been in their service. The Bloody Emperor would want to bolster that faction in such a conflict. Of course Blumrush would flip sides.”

“What? He’s a Marquis. He’s in the service of the Empire?! My Gods.”

“You wish to know the rest too, don’t you? Why there would be a civil war.”

“But- I… Blumrush? Y-yes, I do.”

“Last night was not just a plot of Barbro and Eight Fingers. The Noble Faction was involved as well, and potentially some merchant groups.”

“The Noble Faction actively participated in this?”

“Likely, though I’m unsure-”

Ah, wait. Bolloupe was on that patio over there, and he looked refreshed. So I can pin this to him.

“No, sorry. I am sure. Pray tell, Lytton scampered off to sleep an hour or so ago?”

“Yes?”

Not enough to clear him of suspicion, they could be swapping sleep cycles.

“And Bolloupe just got up?”

“Yes.”

“Thus, Bolloupe is most certainly who Barbro is collaborating with. In that case, that likely ties Barbro to the merchant houses of his demesne.”

Of which that front company for slavery is located.

“Please- Your Highness, I don’t- Explain the full plot. In detail, Your Highness.”

“I must apologize. I’ve given this to you scattered, haven’t I? Bolloupe - perhaps a year ago - decides it's time to secure his legacy, he decides to eliminate my father. He begins to groom Barbro, whispering things in his ear. It is difficult to simply assassinate the King, Gazef is too indomitable a force to be reckoned with, so he recruits Slane to deal with him in the borderlands; they wish to topple the Kingdom anyway. A pretense of conflict is fabricated in the borderlands, in this case, imperial intrusion. Gazef is killed, then my father is killed when the council is convened in response.”

“Where does Eight Fingers come in?”

“They are the ones who sent assassins to the palace. Of course, Gazef lived, so that forced a reordering of their operational plans. Six Arms is sent after him, not my father. This, along with your heroic cross insane gamble, lost them the night. I suppose we ought to find that Ainz Ooal Gown fellow who saved the Warrior-Captain at Carne and pin a medal on his chest, perhaps give him some land. Ah, you know the details of that don’t you?”

“I do. That magic caster, right?”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure how much of that information had made it into the broader nobility. In any case, Barbro is the center of the plot here. He is tied to them in a shared conspiracy to kill, shared income from Eight Fingers, and shared blood on his hands.

“Why would he turn? I don’t understand. He’s the Crown Prince!”

I don’t wholly understand it either. Pin it on idiocy, the actions of a rabid animal.

“Perhaps it's some deep, prideful evil only menfolk must strive against. In any case, he fell for those words, those fears. He is manipulatable enough to be turned against his father on the basis of his slow acquiescence of the throne.”

In a way, it's darkly ironic. The sort of thing a person with a vile sense of humor would find laugh at. Lo, I am, though it may be too much for Lakyus’s purity of soul.

“How vile a man must he be?! Er, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, Your Highness.”

“You did nothing wrong, Climb. You would be better acquainted with these topics than I. Though forgive me for such a lumping together with someone as harmful as my eldest brother.”

“O-of course, Your Highness.”

“To continue, he is in essence, an investment. A particularly valuable one, not to mention expensive. The tactical summary delivered by Jelka spoke of twenty-four of the enemy dead; was that correct, Lakyus?”

“Yes, it was, Your Highness.”

“And three quarters of them were in full plate?”

“All but five, I think.”

“The standard rate for that is-”

“Fifteen-hundred gold per suit, depending on the forger. So-”

Fifteen-hundred times twenty minus fifteen-hundred is twenty-eight-thousand five-hundred, divided by fifty is six hundred gold standards, divided by one hundred times nine is approximately fifty-four platinum standards.

“Fifty-four platinum standards at market. We can assume discounts and subsidies through fluctuating market conditions, but the cost of their weapons, equipment, and scrolls should bring that up to around a hundred. Who knows what external costs they accrued in doing so.”

Or how much economic output they commanded to get such equipment. There was probably a noticeable blip in iron markets during the preparation for this event.

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means our enemies spent something on the order of fifty-thousand gold minimum for last night, either in capital, debt, or actual coin. They did so and failed.”

“Gods above, I knew it was high but-”

“Eight Fingers is cunning enough to abandon him-”

Though they are doing so at my behest. Ah, it will be interesting to see how powerful Keveleos is in that organization; I still haven’t pinned down his division of origin. Ought I to tell Lakyus of this? Perhaps not, I don’t know how she would feel about such… “backroom” deals with the enemy. Interesting; if she brings up Eight Fingers factionalism, I’ll use my support of the slavery ban as evidence for intraorganizational conflict; else, no need. Let me then edit my story.

“But the Noble Faction is not. Cunning is the wrong word. Eight Fingers can change loyalty to Zanac without issue, the Noble Faction cannot.”

“Why?”

What would make a compelling narrative? Something that plays off her sense of moral obligation and idealism.

“A few practical reasons, a few innate ones. Bolloupe has liability with Barbro; my brother, if abandoned, can destroy himself to destroy the Marquis. That, along with financial ties. The Eight Fingers leadership are far more mercenary; quite literally, they are merchants. Akin to merchants, they will abandon what they think will not profit.”

Ironically, this crisis may end up greatly strengthening the Royal Faction. Open political unity, the support of Eight Fingers, even if it's collapsing. Do I turn ‘round and approach Zanac now? No, too hasty. I ought to strengthen my position further, see if Keveleos keeps to his word.

“So, then what do we do?”

“My brother? Nothing.”

“How can you say that?”

“What choice do I have?”

“But he-”

“Lakyus, if you’re asking how I can bear to stay by his side and act the role of a third Princess, I’ve already had my revenge. He’s destroyed himself, the only thing I need to do is shirk from him in public. There’s already that narrative of a slap for the broader nobility to glom too. String that with his failed marriage proposal, and you’ve created compelling gossip. No need for the reveal of the true thing.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“I know. Gods forbid, had Climb not stopped Teloran, or if he had not been there… All I can do is endure my brother. His head won’t grace the crown. Lakyus?”

“Yes?”

“Forgive me for this, but may we move to more practical matters?”

Lakyus’s words seized, her expression deeply troubled. Climb was near to the point of tears, burrowing his head in his hands. She opened and closed her mouth several times, before finding her words.

“You’ve already had all of last night to think about these things, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I apologize, my coolness must be jarring.”

“You can’t afford to fall apart.”

She spat that, framing it how I would. Though, she’s not vexed at me, but rather the broader certainties and invariant issues of my situation.

“That’s exactly my thought process.”

“Are you giving up fighting him entirely?”

Thus, to be sanguin.

“Lady Aindra, I do not pity you. Do not do so for me.”

“Right, sorry. Forgive me for my weakness”

“Of course, this is part of… ah, what’s the term Vena used? Duty?”

“I still can’t believe you managed to sleep, Your Highness.”

“It was the best move. Besides, I want to be fresh through the night to get some work done, pour through what we’ve learned. Drink some more of that coffee your crimson-robed fellow gifted me to stay awake through the day.”

“You- how… Climb.”

“Yes, Lady Aindra?”

“How do you keep up with her?”

“...I don’t know, Lady Aindra.”

Renner giggled, which quickly turned into the three of them sharing a laugh.

“In any case. You have what-”

“Yes. I forced Tina and Gagaran to draft a report.”

Gagaran and Tina? Ah, no I suppose that makes sense. Lakyus must have sent Tia on a scouting mission, and Evileye is busy doing… something. What I couldn’t guess, perhaps scrying for future wetwork.

“Contents?”

“Combat reports, the highlights of what we pulled from Fenthrop. Actually, I’ll send the full transcripts when we return to our keep.”

“Thank you. As to your fighting strength?”

“We’re gonna need some time to recover. We all do, but specifically Evileye and Gagaran.”

“Why?”

“Evileye was injured, and she needs to regenerate her mana.”

An injury, what? Aren’t you capable of healing her? What… is Evileye? Chock up yet another failure of my knowledge, this time to matters of the divine.

“And of Gagaran?”

“Her weapon shattered.”

“Ah, all correct then.”

“After this, though, we need to be utterly relentless.”

“Are you and your two skulk fellows not going to conduct operations while they rest or-”

“We’re going to move to the capital.”

Eh? That’s completely unexpected.

“Since when did you have land in-”

“Our warehouse. Shouldn’t take too long to move, though Evileye is grumbling about having to set up scrying nets again. A good chunk of our stuff is here anyway, will make everything easier. We’ll keep the… uh, the keep.”

The benefits are obvious, reducing communication times, faster action, et cetera. Ah, I ought to offer them some further accommodation.

“I’ll release you additional funds for accommodations.”

“Why?”

You would live in a warehouse?!

“...Ah.”

“Y’know, sometimes I almost forget you’re royalty. Almost.”

“Be quiet.”

Lakyus laughed far louder, Renner pouting. Climb seemed to have recovered somewhat, wearing a tired smile. Lakyus’s jovial mood didn’t last, her face sombering.

“Your Highness, would you pray with me?”

She needs this, doesn’t she?

“Yes, of course. Though, you’d need to lead.”

“I was planning too. You too, Climb”

“Yes, Lady Aindra.”

Prayer. When was the last time I was ever involved in a prayer?

Climb stood, Renner slipping her hand into his to pull herself up. The three of them stood together in a triangle, each holding the hand of both others. Lakyus and Climb stilled themselves, first her, then him closing their eyes. After a moment, Renner closed hers as well. Despite herself, she started to shake.

I could not tell. After what I thought, my declarations of liberation from such things, I- I don’t know if I want to do this. Am I afraid?

“He of the Froth and the Spray, I sit by the side of your waters to hear my supplications and render unto your aid I and those by my side.”

What of fear? I have taken feyish joy in making Zanac squirm, and in doing the same for Gazef. But the eyes that Keveleos laid upon me, those were alit in worse visions. He signed! Why would I cause him to sign? Is hunger not a natural thing? Surely he desires wealth and power. What possible fault could be found in such consumptive drive? I want my Climb. He is imbued with a hypocrisy, a deep and discriminant one.

“He of the Crashing Wave, render unto I and those by my side refreshment and a recovery of our mortal forms’ vigor.”

Renner felt a wave flow through her, whatever lingering exhaustion she possessed burning away in its wake.

The implication. What does that make me when I bring fear not of the wylds, but of the crypt? No, I’ve made a mistake. Zanac, when he lets his grip slip, has given me that same look. I suppose I could never have distinguished it before. A new sort of terror I have not seen. I am of womenflesh, but that is all I can say with certainty. This is a new paradigm, but one I cannot align myself to with ease.

“He of the Bountiful Floodplain, render unto I and those by my side a restoration of form and poise that we might become better examples of your purity and your will.”

Her clothes rustled, the lingering moisture upon her backside fading away as she turned completely dry.

“He of the Babbling Brook, I… am in need of guidance. I cannot see a path forward. It feels as if my world has been shattered, broken and dashed under things which I never expected. How am I to stand with traitors in my midst?”

This speaks to this, then. She prays, not simply as a practical thing, but as a profession of faith to the divine. How can she find such joys? How does she know? Do not those of the Six experience the same elation, the same rapture in the light of their Gods? It horrifies me. It’s as if the world is coming undone, or as if it was always undone.

“When those I counted, if not as allies or good people, are truly vile? How do I remain steadfast? How do I remain holy and on the path of righteousness? How do I do what is right? How can I find the path forward? Please my lord, please. Help me to find the monstrous things in my midst and catch them in your cleansing tempest.”

If I am a monstrous thing as he seemed to think, would I be burned away in the scope of devotion? I could not stand against it. I can’t stand against it now. I am quaking. Why am I quaking?

“He of the Sanguin Spring, I thank you for the aid which you have given. I leave the side of your waters now, but I bear your name and your symbol until my foundation of rock washes away in the sea.”

I am clean, I am refreshed, yet for all else, I didn’t feel a thing but terror and fear.