Argrave and Anneliese sat at a table. Argrave had his head supported by one hand, his gaze looking off into another dimension. Anneliese waited for him to speak patiently, her hands placed before her almost politely.

“I feel lost about this development for the first time in a while,” Argrave told her plainly, waving his free hand about to support his vocalization. “I had a general route of how I wanted to grow stronger, prepare for fights… and I can’t see how I might slot this in.”

Anneliese nodded, her hands moving to braid her long white hair back. “Then perhaps you ignore it. Shelve it away.”

Argrave sighed. “But… that’s unambitious. There’s a lot of potential for this. People could die if I don’t do everything I can to become stronger.”

“You would jeopardize everything for a vague chance?” she said quickly, hands braiding faster. “What Vasquer told you—"

“Obviously, lichdom, things like that—they’re off the table,” Argrave said, holding his arms out wide. Anneliese agreed at once with a nod. “Gerechtigkeit can corrupt necromantic creations, turn them against their creators—something to do with the nature of that magic. I’m the last person who’d want to fight against any of you, least of all because you’d all put me in the dirt.”

Argrave rose to his feet, pacing around to work his mind. “But a soul like mine… it’s a valuable thing. It might be I can get something good from the gods from it. An unparalleled blessing.”

“Please do not profane your soul for strength,” Anneliese pleaded so earnestly Argrave felt a tug of guilt at his throat.

“That’s…” Argrave walked up to her, pulled his chair closer and sat down. “My soul—a deathless soul—it’s really, really damned resilient. Liches are incredibly hard to kill. Specters born of deathless souls are nightmarish to deal with. The last thing I want is to corrupt myself, or… or whatever you might be thinking. I’ve just got a valuable thing I might leverage. A strength—something that’s actually special about me. A real talent.”

“It is not ‘a valuable thing.’ It is invaluable,” she disagreed. “So, please do not try and assign value to it. You know little about this matter, and I know less—but I do know you should tread carefully,” she said deliberately.

Argrave scratched his forehead. “Think about how much I benefitted from the Alchemist and becoming Black Blooded. That was leveraging my knowledge to gain a tremendous boon. My heart was torn from my chest—it defied all logic, threw caution to the wind.”

Anneliese leaned in, abandoning her task of braiding her hair. “Would you like to do it again?” she asked, the first hint of anger bubbling up.

“Damn it all, I don’t want to do any of this,” Argrave leaned back in his chair, slouching exhaustedly. “The plan I had so far… strive for a particular A-rank ascension pertaining to blood magic, as that’s a prerequisite for Blood Infusion—that is, infusing all spells with blood magic. After, I try to earn the goddess of blood’s favor, alleviate the side effects of blood magic by performing sanctioned sacrifices,” Argrave told her. “All of this… you knew.”

“And what is wrong with it? We kill plenty. Sacrificing our foes is not so big a step away, and alleviating your blood loss is no minor thing. Do you recall how utterly dominating [Bloodfeud Bow] was? Imagine suffering nothing for using that spell,” she urged him. “On top of that, your A-rank blood magic ascension would change the whole landscape. Every spell you cast could be imbued with blood. A simple C-rank spell could destroy B-rank wards and tear through countless foes with ease.”

Argrave stared at the stone ceiling of Rancor’s headquarters, saying nothing in response. Internally, he was running through his head the people he knew in ‘Heroes of Berendar’ who had a deathless soul. There were three liches, each and all terrifying fights. The Alchemist might be another, though that detail had only been discovering from datamining ‘Heroes of Berendar’ and was dubious at best.

Argrave paused, running through his head the reason deathless souls were valuable in hopes of gaining some insight. He knew they could handle burdens that other souls could not tolerate. They were pliable. If used to reanimate something, they could be reused, and retained experience. Memories of obscure lore came rushing back as he thought more—a deathless soul had been used to reanimate a dragon, he recalled.

More and more memories came back. These deathless souls had many purposes, mostly in helping stabilize vast amounts of magic. All of them… unusable. They required him to be dead, to be devoid of a body, and even then, he was but a tool by that point. He wasn’t fond of the idea of being utilized after death to make an undead dragon, and it didn’t serve his ends.

“For the first time, I am glad to see you disappointed, hopeless. It means you have thought of no foolish venture to gamble your soul on,” Anneliese said, irritated.

“Anne…” Argrave leaned in intently. “I would never do a damn thing this serious without consulting you first. But if we’re found lacking in the final stretch… nothing else matters,” Argrave shook his head. “I have to look into this. Please understand.”

Anneliese crossed her arms and looked away, blinking a little quickly. Her amber eyes were a bit watery. “Sometimes, I want to… seize you, freeze you. Anything to keep you safe.” She laughed at her own words and looked back to him. “I apologize. As much as I try to remain calm and objective… the stress has been eating at me, lately.”

Argrave softened at once, feeling a fool. “Tell me. Let’s talk about it,” he grabbed her forearms. “What you’ve done for me, letting me talk to you about my time as Vincenzo… it’s been helpful. It can work for you, too, you realize.”

She placed one hand atop his and smiled warmly. “I… no, I think you’re right. I like helping you, supporting you. Didn’t want to talk about things. My problems, my concerns… I wanted them to be background.”

“You have no idea how much I want to help you,” Argrave told her sincerely.

“I think I do,” she disagreed. “Argrave…” she sighed, lowering her head until her hair covered her eyes. “We are setting things up to move to the world stage. You plan to be crowned king. I will be at your side.” Anneliese shook her head. “The idea has never made you seriously nervous. It terrifies me, frankly.”

Argrave rose his hand up and brushed away some of her hair to better see her face. “What is it? The idea of scrutiny from so many people? I know you dislike crowded places, large crowds…”

“In large part,” she nodded. “Yet… I was taught a monarch, or ruler, or tribal chief… they have a responsibility to the people far heavier than the people do to them. Some I’ve seen disregard that rule, but I value it above all others. That responsibility…”

“Anneliese. You are a brilliant strategist, and a genius in most senses of the word. Don’t tell me you’re too blind to see how damn amazing you’ll be?” Argrave asked her incredulously. “Need I tell you more stories about the Anneliese in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ how much of a badass she was?”

Anneliese lowered her head and smiled embarrassedly. “I believe you have told me quite enough.”

“Do you know what’s the most important thing in leadership?” Argrave questioned. Anneliese looked at him curiously, and he poked her cheek. “Intent.”

Anneliese swatted his hand away, saying, “Intent can only—”

“Intent can carry you everywhere when leavened with diligence and wisdom. If you intend to help the people, and you diligently apply yourself to that goal, using the wisdom of yourself and trusted council…” Argrave shook his head. “That’s a recipe for success. After all… it’s a position of power. And power is the means to get something done.”

Argrave rose to his feet. “You already have the intent to do well. If you weren’t diligent already, this half year of travelling has certainly made you so. And wisdom?” Argrave spread his arms out. “You’re infinitely curious. Gods be damned, if there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s being king. Especially if you’re here.” Argrave brushed his fingers against her cheek affectionately, then knelt and hugged her.

Argrave stayed kneeling a long time, and after a while, Argrave grew used to the quiet pattern of breathing. Then, Anneliese whispered in his ears, “I think you should check Garm’s writing.”

Argrave leaned back. “What are you talking about?”

“You avoided them, but I perused some of them. I recall mentions of things that burden that soul—non-necromantic spells, other rituals. I believe that would be a good starting point. I did not read them all as it all made me rather sad, yet Garm had invaluable knowledge on the soul.”

Argrave smiled broadly. “This means you don’t object to looking into this matter?”

“Someone has to ensure you do not harm yourself,” Anneliese rose to her feet, seeming a bit more alive than before.

#####

Argrave woke up quite groggily, having stayed up later than usual perusing Garm’s writings. They were dense books, and frankly, the man had a rather esoteric way of putting things that made it difficult to read through them quickly.

After recognizing the stone ceiling of Rancor’s base, Argrave felt a rush of nervousness when he was reminded Elenore had probably spoken to Vasquer by now. His grogginess faded. He cast a glance to Anneliese beside him, and seeing she still slept soundly, decided to go off and see if he might speak to Elenore about things.

Slipping out quietly, Argrave passed by Galamon and gave him a slight nod. The elven vampire was brewing some ingredients that Durran had fetched in his outing. Elenore’s men were becoming more and more abundant in this place. He passed by a room of wounded. Some bore bite marks, and he knew at once what had happened.

Argrave went down the steep stairs leading to Vasquer’s great prison. He saw Elenore standing beside Vasquer, her hand held to the golden snake as she spoke to a group of her people. Two were palace maids, likely greenhouse attendants, while most were the gruff men under her employ. Some of them he recognized—he’d received side quests from them, he remembered.

Elenore was entirely oblivious to Argrave’s approach until he entered a certain distance from her, whereupon her head jumped to face him immediately.

“Leave me for a moment,” he heard her say distantly.

At once, her men dispersed without so much as a word. Argrave watched them go, then came to stand above her.

“Good morning,” he greeted, keeping both hands at his side.

“Good morning,” Elenore returned, not unkindly. From the way her tone and posture were, he could tell she had received the message he left with Vasquer. She would know his soul was not Argrave’s. “You come alone.”

“Hoping to see someone?” Argrave raised a brow, keeping a comfortable distance in case he made her uncomfortable.

Elenore frowned at once and denied, “Of course no—” she paused, shaking her head. “You seldom move alone, that’s all. Maybe you thought I’d want to talk alone.”

“Didn’t want to wake Anneliese,” Argrave shook his head.

Elenore rubbed her hand against Vasquer. “Your message was relayed.”

Argrave observed her. “Awfully… calm.”

“I had already been given hints and had my suspicions. I cannot deny I was shocked…” her eyeless sockets turned to his eyes, seeming to gaze upon his face. “Vasquer claims the blood is more important than the soul. But I wonder… having never known Felipe, can you truly claim to…?”

“You know how I feel,” Argrave shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, the blood relation is the most important thing. This situation is no different than finding a long-lost sister I didn’t know I had. I’ll endeavor to be a good brother.”

Elenore turned her head to Vasquer, then said, “You left much out.”

“…I made it easily digestible,” Argrave rephrased.

“My stomach is quite strong. I wish you had told me everything.” She took her hand off Vasquer. “But no matter. If we are family, we have time for these things later. There is a more urgent matter. Today, we have to seize this place fully, make it our own. The vampires struck back last night. Vasquer tells me of artifacts within the deeper portions related to the founder, and—”

“I’d like you to allow me and Galamon to lead a group of your men down to purge the vampires,” Argrave requested. “Rancor won’t fight fair. Galamon and I can endure poison, things of that nature… Anneliese and Durran can’t.”

Elenore crossed her arms. “There’s poison smoke at the entrance. Are you certain?”

Argrave smiled. “Quite.”