Elenore heard approaching footsteps. She had a clock on the table before her. The set of jewelry that Argrave had given her augmented the sensation she felt from the first ring—with each new piece, it was like a bubble of absolute perception expanding outwards. She had a dim cognizance of everything around her. It was more than sight—it was understanding. She could read a closed book, perceive the gears working in the small clock, or even delve into someone’s anatomy if she so wished it.

And she had. Argrave’s heart… it pumped black blood and shone like an amethyst. His eyes were black and gold, though bits of the gray she remembered still showed on them. She had enough questions about him before that revelation… yet now, they were doubled. She had not known him very well, but he had evidently changed too much.

A man opened the door and stepped into the shed that was her room.

“Ruleo,” Elenore turned her head. “You’re early.”

“Never hurts to be,” he stepped in closer.

As he stepped into her range of perception, Elenore perceived Ruleo for the first time. She had always figured him to be a gruff, ugly man. He was gruff, but she could not call him ugly in good faith. He had dark hair and a well-trimmed beard, with bright white eyes that were especially striking next to his dark features. His heavy, jutting brows make him look naturally angry.

Elenore gestured to the chair across from her. “Have a seat.”

“What’s with the getup?” Ruleo’s eyes wandered the various bronze pieces she wore. “Did you have a change of maids? It’s not very… not like usual,” he said, softening the criticism.

“It’s a gift from a…” Elenore shook her head. “Just sit.”

“You actually have people that give you gifts?” he pulled back the chair and sat, letting out a grunt. “So, you’ve got another job you can’t afford to fail? Best pay well. I have some arrangements to keep. I haven’t been idle.”

“You align rather well with something I’ve been looking into,” Elenore said at once. “And I had some questions for you.”

Ruleo leaned back, squinting at her suspiciously. “Go on, then.”

“Rancor. I need your investigative capabilities. You’re already fairly close with them,” Elenore said at once.

Ruleo swallowed, looking more annoyed than anything. “They put a lot of money in my pocket.”

“They help you find Order of the Rose ruins to explore, you mean,” Elenore said. “They grow your unorthodox list of spells larger every day.”

Ruleo tapped the table, smiling. “Well, well. I’m ousted. Given what they offer an unaffiliated spellcaster like myself, you can see why I’m not eager to jump ship.”

“It puts some things in perspective,” Elenore nodded. “Why you know so many spells, despite not being a member of the Order of the Gray Owl.”

Ruleo shook his head quietly. “What’s the counteroffer, then?”

“I can give you every bit of information they have,” Elenore said. “If it’s documented, you’ll get those documents. If its members have it memorized, they’ll recite them to me. On top of that…” Elenore pursed her lips. “I know someone who might be able to help you find all the Rose ruins you could ever want.”

Ruleo raised a brow. “That right?”

“It is,” Elenore nodded in confirmation.

Ruleo scratched at his eyes drowsily. “Alright,” he enunciated deliberately. “Tell me what to do.”

“In time,” Elenore nodded. “I want to know why you’re interested in Argrave.”

Ruleo cackled. His laugh was quite unusual—rapid and loud, like a hyena. “Interested? Was that my phrasing?”

“…not quite,” Elenore said after Ruleo’s laughter died down. “You must’ve heard of recent happenings.”

“Mmm. When one snake eats another, the rats rejoice,” Ruleo noted, lounging. “Kinslaying Serpent, they’re calling him. News has been spreading that Induen’s body was eaten by ants. Rumor got distorted—apparently, Argrave devoured the corpse himself.” Ruleo cackled once again, and then scratched the top of his lips. “Now, he’s the Kineating Serpent. Kinslayer, Kineater…” Ruleo trailed off.

“You don’t sound happy,” Elenore stated.

Ruleo looked down at his hands. “People hated Induen. He was Felipe’s hand. Suppressed dissidents, crushed revolts, took a hand in things personally. That hatred was on a perfectly balanced scale, the other side weighed down by fear and respect. That was probably Felipe’s design. He’s preparing for succession.” Ruleo sighed. “Argrave put an end to that. Combined with the already-swirling rumors about his heroics… the plague, the Veidimen… the legion of ghostly snakes, supposedly a blessing from the founder of House Vasquer… it’s nauseating to hear them praise him like he’s some hero.”

“Why do you hate him?” Elenore asked bluntly.

Ruleo turned his eyes towards her. “You have plans for him,” he noted.

“You can imagine why I need to know,” she said, disguising her intent. “A new variable. Another piece, with ripples to follow.”

“Is he a piece anymore?” Ruleo questioned.

“Everyone is. I am. You are. King Felipe is. No one is removed from things. No one can simply watch while things unfold. All are affected,” Elenore shook her head. “To that point… talk of your history with Argrave.”

“My father was the royal keeper of the hounds,” Ruleo said grimly. “Managed all of the dogs for hunts, searches, and other such excursions.” He leaned in a fair bit closer, white eyes sharp. “That should tell you enough. Jog your memory.”

Elenore did recall a major incident involving the keeper of the hounds. Her memory was not absolutely clear about the matter, so she pressed for more, saying, “You certainly concealed that detail well.”

Ruleo looked surprised, but he quickly corrected his expression and said neutrally, “I took some measures.”

“Did you know Argrave at all?”

Ruleo had a hate-filled smile and said through clenched teeth, “All too well. Nobles and other royals refused to associate with a bastard. But he was welcomed, accommodated, and nearly worshipped by the children of the royal servants.” Ruleo rubbed his hands together. “Awkward. Towered above some adults even when young. He stuttered and wasn’t particularly assertive. Made him feel… innocent, naïve. But all of that was just a mask for the same vindictiveness and cruelty the rest of you snakes have.”

Elenore thought to what Argrave was now. It was such a far cry from the young boy Ruleo described. All of his people seemed undyingly loyal to him—not out of fear, or low manipulation… but respect and even love. He reined in someone like Durran. Someone like him must’ve surely been a nightmare…

“I regret bragging,” Ruleo continued with another sigh.

“Bragging?” Elenore repeated, brought back to the matter at hand.

Ruleo nodded. “Yes. When my father found out I might be capable of using magic, he toiled to earn me a spot in the Order. I bragged to people—friends. Those friends told Argrave. And Argrave… took all of that toil.”

“He took your spot in the Order? How?”

Ruleo crossed his arms, looking ill at ease. “Noble children were having an outing in the forests. Something stupid… can’t remember,” he shook his head. “Argrave released all of the dogs, set them into a frenzy. Blamed my father.”

Elenore tilted her head. “I don’t recall deaths.”

“Of course not. My father was a good trainer,” Ruleo threw up his hands. “But piss-for-brains aristocracy listened to Argrave. They believed him when he stuttered out that it was some sort of assassination attempt. Even when the bastard so blatantly asked to receive what was mine--!” Ruleo tapped his chest, anger rising, yet it waned quickly as he brought himself back under control. “My father was executed. Mother’s still kicking—she’s too bitter to die. And Argrave was on the fast track to becoming a Wizard of the Order. A joke, this kingdom of ours.”

Elenore nodded. “It is.”

“Listen…” Ruleo looked around. “Rancor—they’re particularly attached to a headquarters of theirs. They utterly refuse to give it up, reveal its location, or allow anyone inside. It’s not like your ordinary syndicate, ready to migrate at any moment. I can start there. Your people can, too.”

“That sounds promising,” Elenore nodded.

#####

“An army, like a serpent, goes upon its belly,” Argrave declared. “Vasquer is a serpent already, so it’s a fitting little quote from someone… I can’t remember who, come to think of it. Maybe Sun Tzu. Or was it…?” Argrave shook his head. “Whatever. Neither Parbon nor Vasquer have idled throughout the winter. The bulk of that time has undoubtedly been spent preparing provisions for the war.”

All of them were in Elenore’s safehouse—a quaint place with plenty of storage and sleeping space, though little in the way of privacy. Shelves had been carved out of the stone, and the place had been made into a little home for them to stay. Argrave sat in a bed just beside Anneliese, while Durran sat cross-legged and Galamon stood. All were surrounded by a ward of Anneliese’s making.

“It’s true. Grand armies… difficult to sustain. An army of ten thousand might eat twice as many meals a day,” Galamon contributed. “It’s a blight upon the land, constantly eating food without providing any in return. Such is why armies resort to raiding.”

Argrave nodded. “Early winter finished off the harvest, preserved the food properly. Now we’re nearing the end of winter. Spring is coming. Snow everywhere is melting, and the fighting is sure to bloom just like the flowers.”

“Strategy and flowery language don’t mix. Wax poetic another time,” Durran chided jokingly. “What’re you getting at?”

Anneliese leaned in on Argrave. “Argrave and I think that Felipe’s handling of obtaining provisions presents an opportunity.”

Argrave nodded, a grim smile on his face. “This is only a theory of mine. Elenore’s going to be important in helping to confirm it. More than castles and ancestry, money is power. Money is the most tangible form of power—the ability to get others to do what you want. Parbon might’ve bought extra grain and crops en masse, but Vasquer certainly wouldn’t. They’d seize it by force. A lot of people with a lot of money are sorely angered.”

Anneliese continued, saying, “Though we already had plans to head to a city called Relize, an effectively self-governed city and financial engine for the north, Argrave thinks there is merit in looking for more opportunities. If Relize is discontent, there are certainly many more experiencing the same.”

“Let’s say you need to build a supply system in short order,” Argrave continued excitedly. “One winter, perhaps. The easiest way is to commandeer what already exists. Caravans, supply ships, baggage trains and beasts of burdens… these people and possessions will undoubtedly be conscripted for the war effort. Vasquer strikes at the supplies of the south directly, but I think our point of focus should be these means of conveyance. Elenore can offer that opportunity.”

Galamon crossed his arms and looked around. “It would work,” he said. “Doing it… organizing mass coordination between parties of varying interests… execution is always different than theory. Always harder.”

“Elenore is rather adroit at that,” Argrave said. “Mass coordination, that is.”

“I thought we were building an army,” Durran leaned back on his hands. “Not that I dislike this notion. I mean, it might turn around on us…”

“Turn around?” Argrave furrowed his brows.

“Might make them pursue the south more aggressively. Our northern adversaries might raid villages for food, attack incautiously for supplies…” Durran shrugged. “My people often went to war for that reason. Rather than starve, we fought. From what I talk about with Galamon, his people are similar. Their way is more so hunting parties and fishing journeys than raids, though.”

“The south is disadvantaged. They have to fight defensively. Foolhardy aggression from their enemies might be what they need,” Argrave shook his head. “And if they’re harried by others on a different front? Well…” Argrave smiled. “We will bring an army, Durran. Mingling with the patricians in Relize is the most important part of it. In a place dominated by the merchant class, ample muscle is needed to protect their interests. If they can be interested in fighting on my behalf?” Argrave raised his hands up. “Well. That’s quite the kickstart for resistance in the north.”