There were a few reasons that Argrave had chosen to come into Orion’s hand and collaborate with him. The first was that the Prince did genuinely intend to combat the waxpox and nothing more. He had no ulterior motives, no sinister plots—nothing of the kind. He was dangerous, to be sure, but Argrave was sure he could avoid drawing any of Orion’s ire. The man was quite tolerant as long as one avoided the sore points. What’s more, Argrave wasn’t sure he could succeed without Orion’s help.

The last thing Argrave had been expecting was to deal with another Vasquer in the northwest.

Magnus’ sharp gray eyes scrutinized Argrave and those that had come with him as he drew closer.

“Magnus,” Argrave greeted. “Had no idea you were here.”

The prince looked at him. Argrave had grown used to people being taken aback or even flinching when gazing at his miscolored eyes, but he showed no such aversion. Argrave willed himself to see the magic around, and Magnus’ figure swirled with black gaseous magic. Argrave judged him at well into C-rank—it matched with his knowledge of Magnus within ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ fortunately.

The prince entirely ignored Argrave’s greeting, turning to Orion. “I think we family should take some time to speak in private,” he suggested. His voice was apathetic yet firm as ever, and he spoke quietly to avoid drawing the attention of the crowd behind him.

Argrave tensed at the suggestion. He did not wish to be isolated from his companions. Orion alone was no trouble—if he wanted Argrave dead, they probably wouldn’t stand much of a chance—but Magnus was the wildcard.

Orion took his hand from Argrave’s shoulder. “Indeed, perhaps it should be so.”

“My companions are like my family,” Argrave interrupted at once. “I trust it’s no trouble if they come?”

“But they don’t share your blood,” Orion noted coldly. “Indeed, only one shares your species... it is good you are open-minded, as many of our ninety-six gods extoll that as a virtue, but blood is blood. Blood is sacred.”

Argrave looked back at his party. A plan quickly formed in his mind, but he hesitated to go through with it. He locked gazes with Anneliese.

It’s prudent. And she’d be upset if I keep trying to shelter her.

Argrave turned his head back, taking a deep breath. “You’ll at least allow my fiancée to accompany me.”

Magnus turned his head away, expression unchangingly cold, while Orion’s whole face seemed to light up. He stepped up to Argrave and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in. His whole party was uneased by Orion’s actions.

“Is that her? Wearing the mask?” Orion whispered into his ear, staring at Anneliese. He hunched down and stared over Argrave’s shoulder.

“Yes. Her name is Anneliese,” Argrave confirmed just as quietly.

“I am embarrassed to admit I do not know her,” he continued.

“It would be more surprising if you knew her,” Argrave pushed Orion away a little. “We met recently. I made this choice on my own, as is my right as a baseborn.”

Orion stood straight once more. He strode over to Anneliese and placed one fist over his heart, bowing deeply. “Greetings, lady Anneliese. I am Argrave’s brother, a faithful devoted of the gods… and Prince Orion of House Vasquer.”

“…it is pleasant to meet you,” she said after some time.

“I shall endeavor to maintain that pleasantness,” he continued, straightening from his bow. “You are my brother’s betrothed?”

She looked at Argrave. “Yes, Argrave and I are… engaged.”

Orion nodded enthusiastically. “Then you are soon to join the family. Even if you may never bear the name of Vasquer… you will still be my sister-in-law. Such an exciting thing…”

Orion stepped back to Argrave. “Come,” he commanded, voice cold, as though whatever warmth he’d displayed seconds ago was just a lie.

He and Magnus walked away, and Anneliese strode up to Argrave.

“Fiancée?” she questioned.

Argrave took a deep breath and exhaled. “Does this bother you?”

“No, but…” she crossed her arms.

“It was necessary,” he said. “And besides… like I told you, I won’t compromise on you. I know this isn’t a particularly romantic way of going about this, but this is what I want. Let me ask you seriously. Want to get engaged?” Argrave shifted, then added, “I’ll understand if you say no—even if we get along extremely well, it has been a brief time since we met. The last thing I want is to pressure you into this.”

Argrave barely spotted the edges of her cheek flushing from behind the Humorless Mask, but she quickly gathered herself. “Of course I want to. But now is not the time to be lost in these matters. I certainly wish to discuss this more, but for now… Magnus—he is an unexpected variable.”

“Yeah, that’s a fitting description for him altogether,” Argrave nodded, refocusing himself away from the sweetness and light. “Galamon, Durran… you’ll wait here, cause no problems.”

Both nodded, and Durran gave him a little wink. “Good luck. Seems all you deal with is craz—”

Galamon silenced Durran with a flick of his finger before he could say something that might provoke the large crowd still around them. Argrave gave them both a nod, then departed with Anneliese just beside him.

“Quick rundown,” Argrave said quietly, following where his two brothers had left. “Magnus is the wildcard of the family. He doesn’t care for power, wealth, or his family. He just wants to do what he wants, whenever he wants. That’s why he wanders the continent.”

“…and you want me to try and discern why he is here,” Anneliese followed his line of thought.

“If it never comes up, yeah,” Argrave nodded.

“Orion is… almost nauseatingly intense. All of his emotions are so powerful, constantly in flux…” she shook her head. “And he wears them on his sleeve. As such, I will try and focus on Magnus.”

Argrave nodded, agreeing fully. “Exactly what I was going to suggest. Read me like a book, as usual. You…” he felt a strange surge in his chest, an overpowering positivity that did away with all of his negative thoughts and spurred him to speak. “So easy to work with you.”

He could not see Anneliese smile behind the solemn white mask she wore, but Argrave saw her cheeks move and knew she did. They entered into the room of the keep that Orion and Magnus had disappeared into. It was a bedroom, where most of the furniture had rotted away. A new table had been set up in the center to accommodate many different documents, splayed out haphazardly. Two Waxknights stood guard inside the room.

“Loyal knights—leave us be,” Orion directed before Argrave had even fully entered. They obeyed quickly and unquestioningly, moving past their pair and shutting the partially rotten wooden door behind them.

Magnus stared at Anneliese, and Argrave walked to block his line of sight. He locked gazes with Argrave, and then pointed. “She wears a mask. Why?”

“To combat the disease,” Argrave explained, then gestured for Anneliese to remove it. She did for a moment, then put it back on just as quickly.

“An elf,” Magnus said without much inflection. “Queer choice for a queer man.”

Orion’s hand pounded Magnus’ back like a sledgehammer—Argrave hadn’t even seen him close the distance. Magnus staggered, coughing, but Orion held the back of his neck.

“Hurtful words,” Orion said. “Imagine if you hurt either of them with those words.” He clenched the back of Magnus’ neck tightly, making the man squirm. “We don’t hurt family. Though men forget, there are ninety-six gods in our pantheon, two of whom are patrons to elves. I will not tolerate intolerance, least of all from a member of the royal family. Be a better example to our youngest,” he finished, leaning in. His grip released, and Magnus fell to one knee, giving Orion a glare as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Definitely not here out of family camaraderie, Argrave realized, gaining some sympathy for his brother.

Considering Magnus had ignored him the first time he asked this question, Argrave phrased it differently, directing it towards both Orion and Magnus.

“How long have you two been here together?” Argrave stepped closer.

“Magnus arrived two days ago,” Orion said as he pulled the fallen prince back up. He bent down and personally brushed the dirt off Magnus’ knee once he’d risen to his feet.

Argrave nodded, then continued, “Why?”

“That’s for me to know,” Magnus stubbornly refused, even still.

“If you insist…” Argrave shook his head. “Though I’m sure there’s much that we… family… have to catch up on, we have other priorities. Orion. This plague is the biggest threat to Berendar right now,” he got to the point, hoping to sidestep this conversation of family altogether.

Orion turned back, face solemn. “Indubitably,” he concurred. “It is the way of the world that disease should ravage the world. Whether death by blade, death by age, or death by rot—all are part of the cycle that the heavens mandate. Yet even still, the gods have placed us on this earth to live!” he preached, placing his hand to his heart. “And so, it is our duty to prioritize abating this great loss of life, divinely ordained though it may be.”

Argrave stepped closer to Orion. He felt like he was holding his hand out to a coiled snake, but his steps were steady nonetheless.

“Orion, this plague isn’t something made by our gods.”

The towering prince grew still at once. He turned his head ever so slowly towards Argrave, then reached his hand out to rest it on Argrave’s shoulder. “Speak carefully, brother,” he said coldly. “You verge on the forbidden.”

Argrave kept his gaze even, staring slightly upwards towards the taller man. “You’ve been in the thick of things, so you know best. The people’s blood—it’s black. You might just accept that as a symptom of a disease, but it’s a symptom of something larger. This disease, this waxpox—it doesn’t spread like normal diseases. You’ve had mages in this refugee camp with the waxpox, yes?”

Orion nodded slowly. “High and low, great and ungrateful, all seeking the blessings of the one blessed by the gods.”

“Then you’ll note it spreads fastest on mages,” Argrave raised his hand. “Not a coincidence. Though the disease fuels itself with ambient magic, it also fuels itself on its hosts’ magic. The blood turns black for this reason—no other.”

Orion took his hand off Argrave’s shoulder. “Nothing escapes my memory. I know you are right in this matter. But you prove none of your earlier words—the gods have done stranger things than conjure fell diseases.”

“I can prove this,” Argrave nodded. “Not ten years ago, this region, the northwest—there were eight noble houses in these wetlands, each with grand fortresses not unlike this one,” Argrave waved around. “This region was conquered from the swamp folk. Practically exterminated to the last. Now, the wetlands have claimed each and every noble house, each perishing under strange circumstances, their seats lost in myriad ways. Now, no one’s ventured into the deep wetlands since. No one’s returned from them, at least.”

“You come here to connect coincidence to this plague?” Magnus disparaged, but Orion raised his hand to silence his brother.

“You say you can prove this,” Orion continued. “With such certainty on your tongue, with those eyes of conviction… tell me your conclusion.”

Argrave shifted. The other reason he had come to Orion so readily was because he was sure the man could be convinced of things that seemed outlandish.

“One of the swamp people yet lives. And she harnesses the power of their gods to spread this plague. This is the knowledge I came to deliver to you.”

Magnus scoffed, but Orion reeled backwards. He staggered and put one hand against the table to support himself from falling. His wild actions made everyone obviously uneased. Argrave’s gaze was drawn towards Orion’s hand. The black plate gauntlet he wore began to grow red. The enchantments on his armor started to shine, as though resisting being damaged.

“I knew I should have acted earlier,” he said as though haunted.

The wooden table started to blacken, and Argrave realized that this was Orion’s doing. He stepped forward and said, “Orion. Watch the hand,” the words flowing almost by instinct.

Orion lifted his hand up. Small embers persisted on the wooden table. The prince gazed at his red-hot gauntlets, watching as they slowly cooled.

“Argrave,” Orion turned his head, clenching his fist. “You are my brother. The gods teach us to treat our family well, to give them priority… especially we members of the royal family, ordained by the gods to rule over man. Just because you are baseborn does not strip us of sharing fathers. Even still… there are greater things at stake that prevent me from listening to your words without question,” he said, voice a low growl.

“I didn’t come here with an expectation of subverting your activities here,” Argrave nodded at once. “I’ll do what needs to be done to prove my words, set things in motion. All I need… is to be met halfway,” he spread his arms out.