“Ah, welcome, Griff. Take a seat.” Lord Aubrey greeted him as Griff entered the drawing room.

Griff took a seat in one of the open chairs around the table, watching the flames of the fireplace flicker, casting long shadows over the room. It was evening, and strong, bitterly cold winds battered the windows, rattling them in place at times. Only two other people were in the room, Leeman and Lord Aubrey.

“Thank you again for the hospitality,” Griff said, nodding to Aubrey. There was a palpable tension in the air.

“The pleasure is mine. Though, if what Leeman tells me is true, this won’t be the most pleasant of conversations. Would you care for a drink?”

“I’ve brought my own.”

The three men sat around a round table, as the servants in the room quietly left them. Soon, the heavy wooden doors clicked shut, and they were alone.

Leeman was the first to speak.

“Preparations for our departure have been made, thanks to our Lord here. We’ve a half dozen wagons spared for us, and enough provisions for the journey. We should be ready to depart by the morning.”

“Good,” Griff said. “How long until the soldiers from Kasin arrive?”

“From Kasin? Much longer than a month. They won’t dare take the road past Cylthia, they’ll risk it through the High Arkasian Forest rather than get close to that place.”

“That’s a damn relief,” Leeman said, deflating in his chair as he took a sip from a glass of ruby liquid.

“Not so pleased with running into the armies of Kasin?” Aubrey inquired. “I’d heard tensions had built between the Order and the Empyreon in the last decade, but not to such an extent.”

“Suffice to say we have no desire to share space with them,” Griff said. “For us to be gone before they arrive is the best option for all of us.”

“Hm, curious,” Aubrey commented quietly. “I suppose that would be none of my business, then.”

“You would suppose correctly,” Leeman replied.

“However, there’s one thing I must request of you, Lord Aubrey,” Griff said.

Lord Aubrey huffed, looking at him seriously.

“After all that I’ve donated to your order, and the hospitality I’ve shown… and refusing to answer my questions these past three days? You would ask more of me?”

“Were it for my own sake, I would not, my Lord,” Griff replied smoothly. “But for the sake of another, I shall.”

“Speak, Master Griffith. Ask of me what you will.”

“It’s about the boy. Matthaeus.”

Leeman and Aubrey both stared at him, until he continued.

“The Empyreon must not hear a word of the boy.”

“Yes, we’d discussed as much already,” Aubrey said dryly. “They’d suspect him a spy, and-”

“Not just a spy,” Griff interrupted forcefully. “Were it merely that, this would be much simpler.”

“If not that, then what is the issue, Master Griffith?” Aubrey asked.

There was a pregnant pause as both other men watched Griff. He sighed, pulling out his flask and drinking deeply.

“When we found the boy, something was wrong from the beginning. His story did not add up,” Griff finally said. “He claimed to remember being chased through the Blight by wolves, before waking up in the church. He had been found washed up on the river bank nearby, and pulled to safety.”

“And?” Leeman asked, his expression curious.

“To put it simply, the boy should be dead.”

Aubrey leaned back in his chair, swirling the contents of his glass with an unreadable expression on his face. Leeman paused, deep in thought, and slowly Griff watched his expression begin to darken.

“Griffith,” Leeman said darkly. “If you’re implying what I think you are…”

“The boy should have been run down and killed by the wolves. Failing that, he should have been broken and drowned in the river. Failing even that, he should have been too injured to so much as walk for weeks afterwards, and that is not to mention the injuries the boy sustained here, at the keep.”

Leeman cursed under his breath, leaning forwards in his chair as a sour look crossed his face.

“Yet in spite of all that,” Griff continued. “Do you know what the boy was doing today?”

“I do not,” Aubrey responded, his own expression beginning to darken as well.

“He was practising swordplay in the courtyard. Bandaged, bruised, broken, and yet moving and playing as if his wounds were merely scratches.”

Leeman shot to his feet, hands slamming down on the round table in front of him.

“Griffith, by the bloody oath that we swore, you had better not be implying what I think you are.”

Griff remained silent, taking a swig from his flask instead. Leeman cursed again then sat back down, tapping his foot restlessly against the floor.

“We have to turn the boy in,” Leeman said quietly. “That, or kill the little bastard.”

“He is a child,” Griff warned.

“He’s a bloody fucking mage, Griff!” Leeman shouted back. “Have you not learned your lesson? Was the last time not enough to teach you?”

“Matthaeus is nothing like her, and you will do well not to bring that up in front of me, Leeman.”

“Your judgement was spot on about her too, then, was it?” Leeman spat. “Or am I to blindly trust you when you’re clearly being the same daft old fool I grew up with?”

“While I do appreciate the show,” Aubrey interrupted calmly, his expression back to an unreadable mask. “I feel that, perhaps, we’ve strayed from our topic a touch. Master Griffith? You would not have called on us tonight if you did not have more to say, no?”

Leeman exhaled, then downed his glass of wine.

“The Empyreon must never learn of Matthaeus’ existence. More than being suspected as a spy, should they detect even a hint of magic from the boy, the witch hunters will be after his head.”

“I feel perhaps I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, Master Griffith. It was my understanding that even as a mage, a child was still a child… would you care to enlighten me?”

Griff took another sip from his flask, closing his eyes as he felt the burn of liquor move steadily down his throat. He sighed, then put the flask away.

“There are many different types of mage,” Griffith said slowly, his voice rumbling. “But most have long been purged from Arkasia. Too much of a threat to the Empyreon.”

“But the same isn’t true of the Norlands now, is it,” Aubrey interjected.

“Indeed. Something the Empyreon has not forgotten.”

“Nor should they,” Leeman said bitterly. “Not one of us wants to see a repeat of what happened in Cylthia. Least of all the bastards in the capital.”

“Regardless of from where they come,” Griff continued. “A mage remains a mage. But for a boy like Matthaeus, without memory, family or home to protect him, the witch hunters would find an easy mark. And as Leeman said, they would do whatever they deemed necessary… to prevent another Cylthia.”

“So you’re stuck, then,” Aubrey commented. “You need the boy’s memories to learn of what he saw in the Blight, yet if you’re caught harbouring a mage, and not just any mage but a Norlander, then you’re ruined.”

“That is why your secrecy is paramount,” Griff responded. “When the Empyreon’s soldiers arrive, the truth of Matthaeus must not be mentioned. Even in passing.”

“I still must question,” Lord Aubrey said. “What makes you so certain the boy is a mage? Could magic so unrefined, possessed by someone so young, even save him from what you’ve described?”

“For an arcanist or wizard, no,” Griff continued. “But not all magics are learned. Many, including the oldest of them all, are innate.”

“So the boy is a sorcerer, then? Like the Kierlands?” Aubrey asked.

“No. I suspect… something else.”

Leeman cursed.

“You… you bloody madman,” Leeman said. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

“I am.”

“About what?” Aubrey asked.

“Are you familiar with the term druid, Lord Aubrey?”

Leeman clenched his jaw as Aubrey looked puzzled.

“She was a druid as well, Griffith,” Leeman said quietly. “Don’t make this same mistake twice.”

Griff, for the first time in a long time, could not bring himself to look Leeman in the eye.

“Shit,” Leeman hissed. “You aren’t thinking what I damn well think you are, are you?”

Griff forced himself to look him in the eye, and Leeman’s face went pale.

“You… you’re taking the boy to see her, aren’t you.”

“Who is this woman you keep referring to?” Aubrey asked, leaning forwards in his chair. Both of the other men ignored him.

“It is our best chance at answers. For our sake, and for the boy’s.”

“The bloody fucken’ hell it is,” Leeman spat. “How many corpses are you willing to pile this time, Griff? Because for me, the answer is zero. If I’m going back to that god forsaken witch again, it’ll be to take her head. For good this time.”

“That is why I shall take the boy alone.”

“Damnit, you stubborn old man,” Leeman said angrily. “You can’t simply do whatever you damn well please, then pretend that’s fine because it only affects you. What of your apprentice?”

“I’ll inform him of the risk. If he should wish it, he may remain in Castle Acheron until I return.”

“Master Griffith,” Aubrey interjected again. “While this has been both confusing and enlightening, I’m unsure of just what you need me for here.”

Griff sighed before responding, letting the tension ease from his shoulders.

“The Empyreon’s soldiers will not be arriving in a month. They will be here within three days, at the latest.”

“That’s impossible,” Aubrey said simply. “Kasin is a month away by horseback, and that’s if you’re riding alone. An army does not move nearly so quickly.”

“And yet, they will arrive before the week is out,” Griff replied. “They move far faster than you may think through that forest, my Lord.”

“And what does this mean for me?”

“Simple. I need you to take this, and hide it somewhere on your person where it won’t be found.”

Griff drew from under his cloak a simple, black stone. It was rounded at the edges, flat like a coin and small enough to comfortably fit in the palm of the hand. He handed it over to Aubrey, who looked at it quizzically.

A moment later, Aubrey saw the arcane runes carved into the smooth surface of the stone, and his brow furrowed.

“It’s not often someone hands away a magical artefact so casually, Master Griffith. As highly as I have heard spoken of you… perhaps I underestimated you in the end, after all.”

“This will prevent your mind from being scoured by the witch hunters,” Griff said. “They will arrive before the soldiers. There will likely be six of them… pray that the seventh is not there. And remember, not a word of the truth about Matthaeus. He was a simple village boy, a Norlander who had been born in the village, the son of two immigrants that came down before the Blight appeared a decade ago. His parents died of the plague that struck the town, and he is now well looked after by the village elders. Understand?”

“I believe I do,” Aubrey replied, pocketing the stone deftly. “You have my word.”

“How the hell do you even know the witch hunters are coming? And where did you get that stone?” Leeman asked with a huff. Griff spotted the way his hand shook as he tried to pour himself another glass of wine.

Griff took another swig of his flask.

“You’ll be leaving early in the morning then, I take it,” Aubrey said.

“If I could have us leave tonight, I would. We will need every hour of lead we can get.”

“If we can make it back to Castle Acheron,” Leeman said with a gasp as he finished downing the entire glass he’d just poured. “They won’t be able to find us. They can’t enter the castle grounds.”

“So you’ve decided to help,” Griff commented dryly.

Leeman’s jaw clenched.

“If I thought there was the barest hint that I could talk you down, I would. But if you’re hell bent on destroying yourself… then I’ll do what I’ve always done. Look after the Order, and the idiots that fill it.”

Griff nodded to him thankfully.

“But make no mistake, Griff,” Leeman said dangerously. “If I see for a moment that this is going the same way it did before… I’ll take that boy’s head to the witch hunters myself.”

“Understood.”

The three men sat in silence for a moment, listening only to the crackling of flame and the distant howling of wind. A weight had settled in the air, pressing down on them as all three took small sips from their drinks.

It was Aubrey who broke the silence.

“I must thank you for placing your trust in me, Master Griffith. And for the artefact.”

“You are most welcome, Lord Aubrey.”

“I will bid you both goodnight, then. Feel free to help yourself to the remaining wine, for I shall now retire to my chambers. Farewell, good sirs.”

Then, with a polite bow, the lord left Griff and Leeman alone in the room. A long silence followed, neither of the men looking at each other.

“Griff,” Leeman eventually said quietly, before letting out a sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing, old friend.”

“Do any of us ever?”

Leeman scoffed, though it sounded halfway to a laugh.

“I’m… sorry, for my anger earlier.”

“It was justified.”

“And there you are again, ever the willing scapegoat,” Leeman said, sighing in distaste. “Would be almost a pleasant change for you to get angry the way you used to. You don’t have to accept blame for everything, you know.”

Griff stared into the fire, folding his gloved hands together gently.

“I still think it’s foolish to even consider going to speak to her,” Leeman grumbled. “You know I can’t risk a single Ordained to help you. We don’t have the men left to lose, these days.”

“I already said I would go alone.”

Leeman sighed.

“Maybe not for this damned suicide mission of yours… but you know that you don’t have to work alone anymore, old man. The legends of your accomplishments have long since overshadowed your old reputation. People aren’t just willing to give you a chance these days, you’ve got Initiates and Masters alike lining up to work with you. Whatever exile you live in now… it’s nothing but self imposed.”

“It was from the very beginning.”

“All the more reason why it needs to end,” Leeman said tiredly. “What’s still holding you back?”

“You know as well as I do.”

Leeman stared at him, a pained look on his face.

“...You know I forgave you for that a long time ago. How many times over do I need to say it?”

“The first was enough.”

Griff tightened his grip on his own hands, the black gauntlets he never took off squeezing as his forearms flexed. Inside, the smooth leather pulled against the skin of his hands, a constant reminder. Leeman looked down at his hands too, then sighed one last time before standing.

“Suit yourself, Griff,” Leeman said with resignation. Then, he walked towards the door. Griff remained staring straight into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

“For what it’s worth,” Leeman called over his shoulder as he stood in the open doorway. “I'm sure that they’ve forgiven you too.”

Griff’s jaw clenched, and his eyes remained glued to the fire.

There was a moment’s pause. Then, the door clicked shut behind him as Leeman left, leaving Griff alone in front of the flame once again.