The Dragon Palace, seat of House Vasquer, moved as though it was a beehive with a bear on the outside. Officials, guards, and royal knights flowed quickly, each with their own purpose and with a sense of urgency. Diplomats met couriers, frantically reading and writing letters to send off to Vasqeur’s supporters. Royal knights obeyed commands from their commanders, each seeking different leads on the murder of Bruno of Parbon.

One person waded through the crowd with slow, steady steps. Royal knights bearing golden armor pushed through the crowd, acting as a wedge for their master. King Felipe III towered above all present, and though he was broad already, his veritable mane of graying obsidian hair redoubled his presence. He had gray eyes as steady as stone, and a beard all the way to his stomach. He wore elaborate black and gold armor that could nearly be called ceremonial, though enchantments on its surface bolstered its protective ability. A black mantle bearing a golden snake wrapped around a sword hung from his shoulders, barely touching the ground.

King Felipe moved through his courtiers, breathing steady and step calm. He stepped through the Dragon Palace, walked up the stairs leading to his throne, and then moved past it into a large meeting hall. A single large table stood at the center, with innumerable maps splayed out across its surface.

A thin, tall man waited politely in the room, his hands behind his rigid back. He had black hair kept diligently trimmed and rich blue eyes. His clothes were fanciful and bore the black and gold of House Vasquer. He had sharp, sunken features, with a stern air about him that commanded some mystique.

King Felipe stepped into the room, looking about. “Guard the room,” he directed his knights as he stepped forward.

The man placed his hand to his chest. “Father,” he greeted, dipping his head.

“Levin. Despite my direction, you’ve still not improved your magic,” King Felipe came to stand before his son. “Even my mistake shows better results than you.”

“Some are unsuited for standing on the front lines. I know my place,” Prince Levin said smoothly.

Felipe stared down contemptuously but shook his head and said nothing more on the matter. “Tell me what you’ve uncovered.”

Levin readily launched into explanation, saying, “The one responsible for organizing the event has been detained. The one who ordered this… remains unknown,” Levin said disappointedly. “The maid, Therese, has some connections to House Parbon. Her house originates from a cadet branch of their house. She served in the palace, attending to many courtiers.”

Felipe moved to stand over the maps on the table, staring down at the uneven rectangular continent of Berendar. “We allowed a cadet branch of House Parbon in the palace?”

“Her relation was so distant none considered it would hold bearing,” Levin explained.

“And nothing of her backing?” Felipe continued.

“Under torture, she revealed all the information she knew. They led to dead-ends. Her contacts fled, abandoning her. She will be crucified in the city square on the morrow,” Levin outlined. “I have sent some more seeking leads, but…”

Felipe smacked Levin’s head, and the man staggered slightly. “I give you a kingdom’s resource, you can’t keep one valuable asset safe? You persist on a thread, Levin. I question if it’s worth maintaining your life. You may cause trouble on succession.”

Levin shook his head, straightening his back once more. “I know my place. Induen is my better. I am inferior.”

Felipe stared down at Levin. “Be thankful Orion is your elder. Were he not, I would slay you.”

“I must thank my fortune,” Levin dipped his head seriously.

“Regarding your brother… the plague,” Felipe stepped around the table, retrieving another map. “Outline its spread.”

Levin leaned forward, retrieving a writing implement. He drew a circle around part of the northwestern region of the kingdom. “Orion has been working diligently to keep it limited to this area. Travel has slowed in the northern regions on account of winter. When the ice thaws…” Levin trailed off, setting down his tool. “It will spread.”

Felipe stared at the drawing, saying nothing. “A prisoner under house arrest died under our care. This will be perceived as a foolish act of tyranny. The northern nobles rallied beneath us will waver. We cannot expect them to be as steadfast as before.”

“I’ve been working on—”

“No,” Felipe said coldly. “You will recall non-essential men in northern territories. Ensure only that we know that they do not act against us. Now that things have come to this…” Felipe stroked his long beard. “We are weakened. We must weaken in turn.”

“Then I will direct my attention towards sabotage,” Levin nodded.

Felipe lifted his head up, staring Levin in the eyes. “Send men to the northwestern regions. Collect the corpses of those that succumbed to the plague. Spread them across the south, everywhere.” The king leaned over a map of the south. “Make sure Orion remains ignorant. The south will become a hellscape, where dead on the streets will be more common than clouds in the sky.”

Levin’s breathing grew quick and his eyes widened. Once his breathing calmed, he nodded. “I will see this done, father.”

“At the very least… I can count on your obedience,” Felipe looked over. “Go. See it done.”

Levin turned and walked away. As he walked, his expression grew dead.

#####

Wind howled against the stone. In the middle of a cold stone cell, the sounds of someone shivering echoed in the empty dungeon. An orange-haired woman, nude, leaned against the wall. Her pale white skin was marred by jagged cuts everywhere. There was nothing in the cell besides stone and iron—not a single basic amenity. There were only the iron bars of the cell, and a window ten feet above. Not even the tallest could ever hope to reach it, and even then, it was too thin to grant passage.

As the woman sat there, shivering, waiting, a click echoed throughout the cell. The woman turned her head, peering out into the hallway beyond the bars. Another click came, louder this time, and she flinched. The clicks came again and again, each louder. She came to realize they were moving up the wall. The woman stood, moving to the cold bars of the cell.

Something flashed near the window, and she shrunk away. After a moment, a thin rope ladder entered, dropping down. The woman shrunk away in terror, curling into a ball in the corner of the cell. The intruder chipped at the window, sending shards of stone into the cell as the window was forcibly widened.

Eventually, the passage opened wide enough for entry. Someone crammed their way in, and then dropped down, landing. They wore a thick cloak and light leather armor.

“Therese?” the man spoke, kneeling down.

Therese looked up, terrified. The man moved forward slightly, and she shrunk away as though he intended to hurt her.

“Wear this,” the man directed, setting something down and stepping away. “No time for terror, no time for delays. I offer help. Success lies on you.”

Her breathing slowed as she stared at what he’d set down. It was a simple fur robe. She slowly moved towards it, taking it in hand. After she put it on she winced terribly, opening the scabs on some of her wounds, yet she seemed to relish in the warmth offered by the robe.

“Come,” the man directed, moving to the ladder. “This little climb is the last thing you’ll need to do. There’s a mage waiting outside.”

Therese walked unsteadily, wrapping her fingers on the ladder. She climbed up, shaking terribly. The man stepped up to the bars, peering beyond into the hallway. Once Therese was near the top of the ladder, he walked away, following just behind her on the rope ladder.

Therese stalled at the top, having some difficulty making it through the narrow gap. The man gave a somewhat heartless push, forcing her past. An arm gripped her, pulling her to safety. She yelped out and started tremoring once more, but slowly, she realized she was in no danger of falling. The carved side of the Dragon Palace had little room for standing, yet stakes had been stabbed into the side, held up by magic. A big man held her up effortlessly.

The man who entered into the cell emerged, rising to his feet. He held his hand out. “Let’s go. Don’t make noise, lady.”

Therese nodded frantically, and the one holding her stepped off the stake. His boots lit up, and he slowly descended, gales billowing about his feet. Therese buried her head into the man’s chest, unwilling to watch.

After a long time, the man landed soundlessly on something. Therese lifted her head up. They were on a ledge on the side of the mountain that bore the Dragon Palace. Just behind them was a cave—it seemed to have been carved by hand, for it was supported with makeshift wooden pillars and showed signs of excavation.

The big man set her down. “Go into the cave,” he directed.

Therese placed her hand to her chest and walked into the cave, casting glances every which way as though something could leap out at any moment. She spotted someone sitting, though they were of much thinner frames than those who’d entered and retrieved her. She walked up slowly.

Princess Elenore lifted her head. She was free of her blindfold, and one could see her empty, horrifyingly deformed eye sockets. Therese was used to the sight, so it was not jarring, but she still could not help but hold her breath.

“Did you retrieve her?” Elenore spoke. “Is she fine?”

“Elenore,” Therese said, stepping forward.

“Therese,” the princess rose at once, stepping forth. She very nearly bumped into the woman, but Therese caught her arms.

“You’re alive,” Elenore said, relieved. “That’s… I brought a healer. Come, come.”

Therese’s face was a mess of emotion—relief, indignance, betrayal, joy—but she stepped forth, still leading the princess even now. A woman stepped forth from deeper within the cave, rushing to tend to Therese’s wounds.

“Therese… you did well,” the princess said lightly. “And I failed you.”

With those simple words, the former maid burst into tears, lowering her head onto the princess’ shoulder. Elenore did not reject her, merely standing there while comforting her.

“You will be taken from here… to a safe place, a place I know will never be touched by the war,” Elenore soothed sweetly.

“I didn’t tell them anything, my princess,” Therese muttered into her shoulder. “I did… I did my best.”

“I know,” Elenore touched her head delicately. She pushed the maid away so their faces were before each other’s. “Now… you must abide alone for a time. Live well. Live free. You will be taken care of.” The princess deposited a sack of metal coins into the former maid’s hand. The light of the rose gold magic coins sheening could be seen even through the cloth.

Magic shone at the back of her head. Therese’s body sagged, and she fell onto the healer, unconscious. The healer hauled them away delicately, where yet more joined to tend to her.

Once Therese was a sufficient distance away, the man who’d entered the cell stepped up to Elenore. “Didn’t know you had compassion. You pulled a lot of strings to save one little maid.”

“And what would you know?” Elenore replied at once, all her sweetness gone. “This isn’t about compassion. This is about reputation, power.”

“Oh yeah?” the man asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Elenore said. “Wanton displays of cruelty befit my brother, not me. Everyone who serves me can guess that I was behind what happened to Bruno. With this, they know that those who serve me faithfully will not be tossed aside when it is expedient. Indeed, I can save my people from any trouble, even the attention of the King and his Kingdom.” Elenore turned her head. “It’s a message. Nothing more. High-profile incidents demand proper replies.”

“Guess I expected too much from a Vasquer,” the man shook his head.

“Don’t overstep, Ruleo,” she cautioned. “We share a goal, and so we work together. Do not presume to grow comfortable.”

“’Do not presume,’” Ruleo mimicked, then cackled. “Whatever. We’re done here. Give me the payment I asked for, the usual way.” He walked into the cave, past the people treating Therese, and vanished into darkness.