Argrave had been to cities in Vasquer like Mateth, Dirracha, Jast, or Parbon. They had awed him, but nothing could really be compared to Relize. Mateth, for instance, was one of the largest trading ports in the kingdom, and probably the largest city in the southern reaches. Even still, its population could not be more than forty thousand. Dirracha was probably near the same number. Jast and Parbon both had difficulties in terms of agriculture, so they were smaller.

Yet Relize… it was a tremendous metropolis. At a point, the cart that Argrave and his company were riding stopped to spend the night, and they had a chance to walk and stretch their legs. Even at that time the city had been awake, dancing lights illuminating its splendor in a subtle, almost mysterious manner. It did not have towering constructions like Jast, nor gigantic walls like Mateth. The city simply sprawled across so much land.

In the morning, the city was revealed in earnest. In the crispness of dawn, half-hidden by sea fog and half-revealed by the early suns, its grand gothic design made it seem like some sort of hidden city. Relize was a place of unimaginable wealth, and as much was reflected in everything down from its material: marble. It was a low-lying seaside city without a wall, wrapping around a great bay and split in two by a river that had to be as wide as the Nile.

Even from afar, one could see the pride of the city—its docks. It was like a continuous marble crescent moon laid flat against the coast, connecting all parts of the city to the bay. One could walk from one edge of the docks to the other, all on one flawless marble path that was probably five miles long. There were countless ships both coming and going from the bay, each of them bearing a multitude of heraldries on their sails. Argrave recognized one sail—six silver stars in a circle on a black field, all connected by a silver chain that converged in the center. It was the Dandalan family’s symbol.

Three gargantuan bridges connected the parts of the city split by the thick river, the largest of which was part of the docks. These bridges were elevated to allow passage for small boats on the river. These boats were plentiful—fishing vessels, vessels with shipments, vessels with other goods… to say the least, business was good.

If Argrave were to estimate the population, he’d place it at around two hundred thousand. Located in the center of northern Vasquer, access to the ocean, a large river with plenty of upstream agriculture… Argrave didn’t think he knew too much about geography, but he could tell why this city prospered as it had. It was a jewel that befit the capital of a nation. Its people were too fiercely self-governing to ever allow that to happen, though, and the Kings of Vasquer were content with their highly defensible city of Dirracha.

“Why are you gawking? Said you’d been here before,” Melanie asked, having walked up to Argrave as he was admiring the city.

“Long time ago,” Argrave shook his head. “It was…”

It was laggy. Place had too many damned NPCs in it. He couldn’t really say that, though.

“Shame we can’t wander,” Argrave looked at Melanie. “Running the docks, looking around… even the warehouses are gilded. There’s Felipe II’s summer residence, too. Nice place.”

“No place quite like it,” Melanie nodded. “You’ll be visiting the Scarlet District, I assume.”

Argrave’s face grew cold, and Melanie laughed at once.

“Guess you really have been there,” Melanie said, planting her zweihander against the ground. “They say every lord visits a brothel. Don’t worry—I won’t tell your lady friend.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you? Having grown up there and all,” Argrave jabbed, disliking her teasing.

This time, Melanie’s face contorted in displeasure, almost mirroring his own cold glare. Then, like it never was, she smiled. “Good comeback. Didn’t think a royal bastard could have banter. Wonder if it’ll last.” She ran her fingers across the plume on her tellerbarret. “Well, anyway, Elenore wanted to see you.”

Argrave felt guilty for his cruelty—he had always liked Melanie, and it was a bit uncalled for to bring up her past in such a manner. Anything regarding Anneliese made him have a short fuse, he knew. Before he could apologize, the mercenary woman was already walking away, seemingly unaffected by his cold words.

She’s important. Mends things, Argrave made a mental note. In a place like Relize, maintaining her loyalty would be important. Fortunately, Melanie’s rough-and-tumble nature wasn’t merely an act—he imagined she wouldn’t genuinely hold a grudge for what he’d said.

Shelving the issue for later, Argrave walked, searching for Elenore. He found her with the rest of his companions by a fire. As he approached, the princess turned her head towards him. The fire cast eerie shadows on her eyeless sockets, but by this point Argrave had gone used to her face.

“I’m surprised by you,” Elenore said. “Couple of days ago, you could barely walk. Now…”

Argrave rolled his shoulders. “Still feel a little off. But I’m black blooded.”

Elenore placed her hands on her knees and then rose. “Yes. Anneliese told me of it,” she nodded. “I… you’ve done a lot. I realized that long before we met, but now that I know the totality of it… having your heart replaced? I can’t…” Elenore lowered her head, then turned to pick something up off the ground. “Anyway, here.”

Elenore held out a sack to Argrave. He reached out and took it in his hands—it was something metal. Opening it up, a rainbow greeted him—their source was about five pink coins, and thirty other golden ones.

“Good god,” Argrave exclaimed, then quickly sealed the bag shut and looked back up at her. “I didn’t get you anything, I’m afraid. I still have that Vasquer mantle and crown, if you want it.”

“It’s pocket money,” Elenore said. “Told you I could turn a profit in Dirracha—I did. Salvaged my network, contacted old and new people alike. A few enchanters I do business with could use earth magic—shady businesses needed reconstruction after the riots and couldn’t go to the…” Elenore shook her head. “Sorry. Details don’t matter.”

“Pocket money,” Argrave repeated. Viewing her as a big sister seemed markedly easier when she casually unloaded this much gold on him. “Thank you. Not sure I’ll need it, considering we plan to stick together the whole time.”

“Best to be prepared,” the princess dipped her head towards him. “As for those enchanted items you entrusted to me—they’re enroute to a warehouse I own within the city, along with a manifest detailing what each does. My enchanters were quite excited about some of them. I’m sure we can sell those you don’t use off in Relize.”

Argrave smiled, then stepped forward and hugged her. She was surprised but eased up after a moment. “Lucky to have you with us,” he told her. “Don’t ever think I’m not grateful to you.”

“…yes, well…” she said quietly. “Get off me. I’m hot enough from this fire.”

Argrave laughed and pulled away, then moved to sit by the fire beside Anneliese.

“I think it’s well past time that you tell me what you withheld from me in that message to Vasquer,” Elenore decided, going back to sit in her spot.

Argrave’s happiness dimmed somewhat when he heard her words. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Elenore waited in silence for a few moments, then said, “So?”

“You’ve gotta ask,” Argrave told her. “I’ll answer what I’m asked.”

“He made me ask Anneliese,” Durran pointed at Argrave. Despite his earlier outburst at Therese’s coffin, things had been fine between the two of them since. “Looks like family gets special treatment.”

“I didn’t make you,” Argrave disagreed. “I politely requested you direct inquiries to Anneliese, so that she might give her perspective on this whole thing.”

Elenore put her hands on her lap. “How do all of you take this matter, this… ‘Heroes of Berendar?’”

Everyone grew silent. Argrave looked at each of them in turn, curious himself.

“Don’t care,” Galamon said first.

“Of course you don’t,” Durran nodded. “I don’t know. Way I figure it, it’s probably just some way of a god implanting a prophecy in someone. Doubt all that nonsense is real.”

Elenore turned her head to Anneliese beside Argrave. “And you?”

“I am unsure,” Anneliese said distantly. “I think I would enjoy finding the truth of the matter.”

“Me too,” Argrave concurred.

“I see,” Elenore said, nodding her head. “Well… it’s another day yet before Relize. All of my affairs are in order, and everything is set up for a smooth journey. And so… you will tell me everything, Argrave.”

Argrave looked into the fire, resigned to his fate.

#####

King Felipe stood before a giant mirror, his back straight. He wore black fine clothes, embroidered with golden snakes on the sleeves. Slowly, with his breathing heavy, he undid the bottom buttons. When the buttons were undone, he pulled the shirt away. It resisted slightly, clinging to something wet.

Beneath, there was another black undershirt. Felipe lifted it up, the fabric clinging to the wound beneath. It was not so dire a gouge—having penetrated not even half an inch on his stomach, it could be healed by magic near instantaneously. Nevertheless, he refused to have it treated.

The great serpent Vasquer, near synonymous with the founding of this country… she had sided against him. He felt her presence in his mind, felt the revulsion. His daughter, Elenore, and another… he thought it was Argrave, but the golden eyes the man bore made him uncertain. All of his royal knights had seen the serpent’s rejection, seen her assault. On top of that… Levin had betrayed him, released a manifesto. Had the legendary Bat even been there? He could be certain no longer.

Felipe dropped the shirt and stepped away from the mirror. A young woman laid across his bed, naked body covered by purple sheets. She was asleep, and Felipe sat down in a chair just beside the bed. Felipe’s gaze lingered on the wound in his stomach. He placed his fingers against it.

He had thought Levin might attack his brothers—expected it, even. But if there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated, it was his betrayal. Dirracha’s riches were gone, plundered. A great mass of royal knights left with the prince, and many others had seen Vasquer reject him. Orion was missing. Much of the north would follow Levin in forming his Kingdom of Atrus. The south would rally stronger than ever before at the divided north.

Felipe dug his fingers into the wound, pushing. All the while, he remained silent, eyes closed. When his fingers were knuckle-deep, he opened his eyes.

“It doesn’t end like this.”

He pulled his fingers free, a fresh wave of blood pouring out of the wound. Calmly, he reached for a goblet on a table beside him. He took a long drink, then set the goblet down. His gray eyes had a cold fire to them.

“It doesn’t end like this,” Felipe repeated. Then, he serenely set to work healing the wound on his stomach with his bloodied hand. “I decide how it ends.”