The door to the library closed behind Art and Gwen as they left. The two guards beside them saluted, and the queen and her knight commander left for the corridors.

‟So,” Gwen began. ‟What are your thoughts on The Watcher?”

‟He definitely is... interesting,” Art admitted. ‟I'm still not entirely sure what to make of him.”

The queen nodded in agreement. ‟Nor do I. The two Guardblades, Lua and Joachim, they were there when the Janus went rogue and attacked Rubicum. In fact, from our intelligence gathered, they might even have been central to the Janus's defeat. But we have been keeping our eyes on their class of Spellblade graduates for quite some time now, so we do have some idea of what they've been up to. But The Watcher? We have no records of him even existing until recently.”

‟What do you mean?”

‟We know he had something to do with The Fall of Light, and he was there in Rubicum with The Janus. There are even reports of him turning up north with a possible confrontation with a god. But before the past two years, it was like he never even existed.”

A sense of forebode fell on Art as she attempted to reason, ‟Maybe he simply stumbled onto the scenes?”

‟We've lived for hundreds of years, my friend. We both know one does not simply stumble into history. Even the origin of the Clovers can be traced to the power hungry ambitions of a madman.”

The two stopped talking temporarily as they ascended the stairs to next level, their breaths increasing ever so slightly with the weight of carrying themselves up to another elevation. Even while walking, Art could tell something was on her friend's mind from the way the queen's gaze seemed to blur over her steps.

At the landing, the knight asked, ‟Do you have some thoughts on him, my queen?”

Gwen immediately raised a finger to quiet her, but also to signal that she wanted Art to follow. Art did just that, trailing the queen down the hall all the way to the opposite side of the keep. There was a lone door at the end under a marble archway that felt strangely repellent. Outside stood a lonely guard, who saluted them as they approached.

Gwen told the man, ‟You're dismissed for the night. I have the knight commander with me.”

The guard saluted. ‟Yes, my queen. I wish you a good night.”

‟Same to you as well.”

‟And welcome back, knight commander.” With another salute directed to Artria, the guard passed them towards the stairwell to leave them be.

Gwen casually opened the door and entered the room, and once Art was sure the guard was not looking, the knight entered without fanfare either, removing her cape as she closed the door behind her.

After hanging her knight cape on a stand next to the door where Gwen had unclipped her pareo onto, Art took a seat at the familiar table in the centre of the room as Gwen disappeared behind a dressing divider in the corner.

Gwen guided from behind the partition, ‟Help yourself to anything.” The sound of her clothes falling onto the floor rustled to Art's ears.

The knight had not been to the queen's bedchamber in almost a season since she left on the journey for Grimmel with the rest of her knights. Little had changed. To the north was the entrance they came from, and the west was the changing area alongside a opulent redwood wardrobe and a second door that lead to a private bathroom. South was a balcony that overlooked the larger area of the city, with faint lights from the town illuminating the edge of the parapet like a dawn of stars rising.

Next to the table was a small tea stand which art helped herself to. The kettle was kept warm by a fire crystal that flickered within a holder below a tripod. She poured a plain cup for herself and added a cube of sugar to a second serving for Gwen.

Art asked aloud, ‟Are you afraid of something? Why can't we talk about The Watcher in the open?” She continued their conversation from the stairs.

‟There are ears around,” Gwen answered from behind the partition. A shuffle later, she stepped out into the lamp light wearing a white sleeping gown tied loosely at the waist. ‟When this many winds of change gathers in one place, dangerous adversaries tends to show themselves.”

Art voiced her worry as she puts down her tea. ‟You think someone is plotting something untoward the crown?”

The queen sat opposite Art and sipped on her sweetened tea. ‟They'd be stupid not to. Lands Lord. The Watcher. The Council. Someone somewhere is planning something.” Her cup clinked back onto the coaster plate on the table. ‟But they cannot take the crown from me. Only I can choose my successor, so they will be looking to dilute the crown's power some other way.”

Art raised a questioning brow. ‟Who is this ‟them” that you're talking about?”

‟If you do not know your enemy, what do you call them?”

‟If you don't know your enemy, is there even one?” Art asked.

Gwen raised hers eye in a gesture of slight surprise. ‟You're rather forthcoming tonight, aren't you?” Art rarely questioned her directly, even in private.

‟Morgan's attitude has rubbed off on me.”

‟Morgan...” Gwen looked away, the name drifting away under her breath. ‟She's a wild card. It would have been nice to have her here to stir to soup.”

‟Should I send for her to return?”

‟No, no,” Gwen quickly interjected. ‟It would just draw suspicions now that word of what your knights are handling have gone out.”

‟Should we recall the army, then?”

The queen seemingly gave the idea a moment of thought, before deciding, ‟They are spread too thin, especially with those helping rebuild Rubicum. If we recall those, the other countries will know for sure that we are weakened. I doubt Aleynonlia and Rubicum would try anything, but the same can't be said for Lutvvin. The soldiers will remain at their post for now.”

‟The Watcher,” Art turned the subject back to its original path. ‟What are your thoughts on him?”

Gwen states matter-of-factly, ‟I think he's dangerous. Perhaps the most dangerous being in the keep right now. Officially, he's here to investigate The Janus, but I can't help but think there's something else on his agenda. We know he's a mage, but of what calibre I'm not sure. Even then, his mind is something to be feared, likely both a joker and mad genius.” She paused, thinking on how to explain her instincts. ‟You've met his two companions, have you not?”

‟Lua Ornitter and Joachim Kerr?” Art answered, referring to the girl and the mute. ‟Yes. Aside from their skill levels, there seemed to be nothing extraordinary about them.”

‟Would you be surprised if I told you they have been investigating The Janus outside of the keep?”

‟Outside? Why?”

‟Why indeed. I think The Watcher has something to do with it. He seems to be the brains behind their little investigation. I wonder if he found something we missed.”

‟Him? The brains?” Art was not sure if calling the slightly deranged man a mastermind of anything was fitting. For the matter, 'mad genius' was already a stretch. But then she remembered how the man sneaked up behind her and she shivered. ‟What should we do, then?”

Gwen sighed. ‟I have another meeting with The Council in five days. I want you to join me for that. But during the interim, I want you to follow The Watcher and his party, and see what exactly it is they are getting up to.”

Art was surprised, not at the job, but that it was given to her. ‟Wouldn't you rather your spy network be put in charge of this?”

Gwen shook her head. ‟There's no clear threat yet, and mobilizing them will lead The Council to suspicion. I want a small group of people I trust, and sadly, that's only you right now. I would have had Merylin do this, but she isn't available, for obvious reasons.”

‟I'm not exactly the spying type.”

‟You're not the queen either.”

‟Are you saying I need not do both?”

Gwen grinned playfully. ‟I'm saying you will be.”

Art sighed at the playing and took another swirl of her tea as a question formulated in her mind. ‟Have you... actually named your successor?”

‟Hmm?” Gwen looked up, her face calm. ‟Curious, are you?”

‟You're the one who brought it up”. The knight did not continue further, simply staring at her intently.

In the end, and queen's face turned sombre. ‟Of course I did. It's sealed in my will. The moment I took the throne, I knew it was something to consider, and my choice has yet to change these past hundred years.”

‟Is it me?” Art asked bluntly.

Gwen gave a weak smile. ‟Did you know that out of the last seven rulers, four of them were killed? It's the deadliest position to hold in the whole country.”

‟You're not answering my question.”

The queen nodded, understandingly. ‟I will never force the role on you while I live, because you are my closest friend. But death changes the dealing. So yes, if I die, you are queen. Each of our three corners of power are there for their own reason. The Council represents the will of the people in the present; The Janus chosen for their prophetic vision is to represent the future; And the crown is chosen to trust the wisdom of the past. The job of history is to hand knowledge to those who can keep it, and you, Artria Pendragon, are my choice in that.” The queen began drinking the rest of her tea.

In that moment, Art began to grasp and inkling of her position within Gwen's circle of trust. ‟You really think I will be suited for the throne?”

Gwen's cup clinked like a bell as the empty shell hit the plate. She stood up and glided to the balcony, her white gown a shifting cloud backed by the night sky beyond.

‟I think you're destined for it, old friend. You were led here by fate, and one day, you will take the throne, and lead the world into an unimaginable future.”