Argrave walked to the site of the tremendous battle between Orion and the Plague Jester, the prince supporting him as he walked. Seeing the devastation wrought here was like a reminder of his powerlessness before Orion. Decay and destruction surrounded him on all sides. The smell of flowers fortunately masked the scent of gore emanating from Orion.

“He’s here,” Orion finally said, just before the wilting jungle opened up to reveal a staircase up to a throne room. They stepped over rubble and low-lying plants, and then came to stand at the foot of the staircase.

A man sat on the throne. He had all the hallmarks of Vasquer ancestry—obsidian black hair, stony eyes, and a formidable presence. His son sitting just behind him inherited some of that, while his blonde wife must’ve had no relation other than marriage. They were strangers to Argrave. Their deaths were inevitable in the game… and Argrave did not think he’d be able to reverse whatever magic had them in its hold. The magic at play was too powerful for Ebonice, and he did not have other means at hand. He could see the faint rise and fall of their chests as they breathed, but otherwise, they seemed totally dead.

“Uncle Regene was assumed dead. No expeditions sent into the wetlands returned, so that theory was never confirmed,” Orion mused. “He used to… tell me stories about the war to take this place, I remember. I thought he was a model faithful.”

“Thought?” Argrave noted.

Orion started to step up the stairs ever so slowly, leading Argrave along with more consideration than Argrave thought he’d receive. “After observing this place, observing the people that lived here… doing more than merely fixate on the act of spreading the faith, as I always have… I concluded that my uncle did not come here with the faith in mind.” Orion looked up at the Archduke. “Even when I think back, I never once recall him mentioning the gods.”

Orion and Argrave reached the top of the stairs. “Now that the Jester is dead… they are not sustained,” he noted. “They’ve begun to die. Can you think of a way to save their lives?”

“No,” Argrave said honestly. He took his arm off Orion’s and came to stand on his own. His legs still felt weak, but he could manage for now.

Orion nodded. He stepped before the throne and knelt. “Uncle. I am unsure if you hear me, know me.” The prince placed his hand to his chest. “The enemy is defeated. Those that wronged you are dead and gone.”

Their uncle gave no response. He simply kept staring at nothing with his dry, dead gray eyes. Orion stared back for what must’ve been a full minute. Then, with a resigned sigh, he rose to his feet.

“I will not burden you by asking for your help. I will be the one to deliver uncle home,” Orion said to Argrave. “Though it pains me… returning with all of their bodies at once will be difficult. I would not put that burden on you or your companions, nor would I carry them haphazardly and stain their bodies with poor handling. I will bring uncle. I will have to send men to retrieve them after we return. Perhaps they can be saved by those more learned than you or I.”

Argrave doubted it, but he said nothing.

Orion stepped up to him. “Have you considered my offer further?”

“To help you build a religious institution for the country?” Argrave questioned.

“Yes,” Orion nodded. “This expedition… affirmed my choice tenfold, one hundredfold!” Orion declared boldly, then paced away. “We need a true arm of the gods on this world. You and I—we are of the blood of the royal family. Who else should the role fall upon but the divinely anointed representatives of the gods?”

“I am baseborn,” Argrave pointed out, stalling for time as he thought of his real answer.

“By law. But the king, our father, is law. Your status may change. You have the light of the gods within you, Argrave. Your feats here have shown me that no other of my brothers are as committed to righteousness and goodness as you are, as much as it chagrins me to say so,” Orion put his hand on his hip and shook his head.

As Argrave stared at the man who was now his brother, covered in gore and seemingly unharmed after fighting against dreadful enemies for days on end, he confronted his feelings and thoughts objectively.

He scares me, Argrave noted. I can’t ever be at ease around him. He’s easily manipulated, and he might be taught how to be genuinely good… but he is so volatile and impulsive, I don’t think I could ever be fully comfortable near him. I don’t like Vasquer as a whole. Orion won’t ever betray Vasquer, I don’t think.

When Felipe dies… indeed, if things remain as they were in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ and the king does actually die… Argrave might be able to put Orion on the throne. Induen was the main barrier to that—a barrier that would need to be broken regardless. He might try and negotiate with the Margrave, end this civil war with minimal bloodshed. Then, there would be a strong leader at the helm of Vasquer, more than able to confront Gerechtigkeit’s many trials surfacing in the coming years.

The task was ridiculously beyond what Argrave felt he was capable of. It sounded like a delusional fantasy even as he thought of it.

Argrave’s role in the civil war would not be active. Elenore was the most important party in the whole thing—if he gained her support, the whole situation could be upended. She was a schemer and strategist beyond reproach. With her help, she might make such a thing happen… and yet Argrave was not sure she would be amenable to the idea.

And still, Argrave found he could not deny Orion outright. Even if he could not achieve this perfect solution to all of Vasquer’s troubles, if he could create a force for good on the side of the royalists… if he could make Orion see the error of wanton bloodshed and mindless crusading… shouldn’t he take that opportunity?

Wasn’t it the right thing to do?

The question was enough to make his head explode, yet Argrave felt he had an answer.

“…this idea of yours is in its infancy,” Argrave said slowly and deliberately, as though each word might cost him his life. “I promised you I’d teach you. Teach you about my ways, about my methods. About a way to deal with things that doesn’t call for mindless violence, as we saw here in these wetlands.” Argrave nodded. “I’d like to stick to that. And along the way… we can plan more. About the future. For us, and for Vasquer. For the faith.”

Orion brightened and stepped forward. He looked like he wished to crush Argrave, but then held himself back. “I would embrace you, were you not so weak presently,” he said eagerly.

“I have some things to take care of, first,” Argrave held his hand up. “Anneliese and I will be registered as High Wizards of the Order.” Pragmatism slipped back into his brain, and he questioned, “But… you mentioned better outfitting Galamon with enchanted gear.”

“Indeed,” Orion nodded. “I must pay a visit to royal blacksmiths regardless, as you can plainly see,” he pointed to his tattered armor with a hearty laugh.

“Do you think… you might have the armoring done quickly, delivered to that town not too far from the tower? Kin’s End, I think it was called, where Acolytes officially abandon their noble name when studying at the tower. And… well, even for Durran, and his equipment…” Argrave dared push his limits.

“Absolutely. If I have my way, and you are named prince well and truly… I can think of no more fitting candidates for your first two royal knights.” Orion pounded his chest. “Once we arrive back at camp, I will see that it is done immediately. There will surely be some armorers among the refugees that might take their measurements, and then I will have that delivered to the royal armorers and enchanters.”

Argrave was somewhat surprised how easy that request had gone. “And weapons?”

“Naturally,” Orion nodded.

Suddenly, Argrave did not feel so weak anymore. He was vaguely tempted to ask his brother for all of his gold, but he was afraid the answer might be ‘yes.’ Which reminded him…

“Then everything is settled. We should leave soon,” Argrave said. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Indeed,” Orion nodded once again.

Argrave turned his head away, almost feeling like he was in a dream. He’d have another task for his companions—robbing this luxurious palace of anything that might be worth anything during the night. It was a thankless task, but Argrave felt somewhat jealous of them. His task was all the more dangerous… his task would be distracting Orion while they did so.

#####

They left the next morning. Three of the Waxknights remained in Archduke Regene’s palace, mostly to ensure the Archduke’s family was not disturbed until they could be retrieved. The palace was a harrowing place as ever, and somehow made drearier by the Jester’s death. Orion severed Rastzintin’s stag head and carried it with him—a proof of conquest. It was somewhat brutal, but Argrave supposed it was better than returning empty-handed and claiming they’d saved the world.

The journey was slow-moving to accommodate Argrave—a fortunate thing, too, because it made the pounds of jewelry in his companion’s packs clink less as they travelled. They lacked Silvic’s protection, but with the Plague Jester’s death, it was no longer necessary. No powers held a grip over the region anymore—it was as harmless as any land they’d traversed in the past, barring some few nasty creatures. Once they left the parts that had been consumed by waxpox, it seemed almost ordinary.

Argrave had resolved to remain at the abandoned keep Orion had made his camp and rest, at least for a day. He felt, for the first time, there wasn’t some looming threat above that demanded he take things two steps at a time at all times. He could relax, eat some terrible swamp food, read some dull spellbooks, and enjoy the company of his companions. Then, he’d delve into the heart of things with a clear mind.

After four days of utterly exhausting travel, Argrave saw rows upon rows of tents. He let Orion take the lead, because he was sure that the people would shower him in praise and cheers. His part would be remembered, to be sure… but he was not the one who had done the most. He did not deserve the accolades as much as Orion, nor did he especially want them.

Things went as expected when they returned. A few noticed Orion with the towering stag head on his back, and then the crowd snowballed from there. After explaining that the disease had not been cured, but would cease spreading, Orion gave a grandiose speech which Argrave was too tired to remember. This speech eventually culminated in a crowd cheering his name.

Yet then Argrave himself was dragged to the front, pale and exhausted. Orion raised his arm up in the air and spoke of his deeds. The prince spoke of how Argrave spilled his blood to kill the enemy, and nearly died to dispatch foul enemies and heretics.

And then… they cheered his name.

As he listened to the cheers of, “Argrave! Argrave! Argrave!” and “Bastard of Vasquer! Bastard of Vasquer!” his tired and exhausted mind had some difficulty processing it. He was mostly waved around like a puppet by Orion, accepting his praise half-heartedly.

For the longest time, he had always thought of crowds of people as an enemy. Certainly, the confrontation with Titus had exacerbated that—he’d used a crowd against them. And yet…

He’d done something good, and people had recognized that. He certainly hadn’t done it for the recognition. Having a good reputation with people was something he wanted, not for the sake of accolades, but because it’d make his job easier in the future.

Overwhelmed, Argrave did his best to get away from the crowd as soon as possible. As he laid in bed, leaving the logistics of things to Anneliese because of his exhaustion…

People are fickle, Argrave thought. But I guess I like them.