“Lord Regis,” the butler spoke with a worried tone. “Sir Grego is here to find you. He says that a rider arrived from Lady Vidal, bringing urgent news.”

“I’m coming, just give me a minute.”

The loremaster quickly got dressed and headed downstairs where the captain of the guards was waiting for him.

“What’s going on, Grego?”

“I don’t know,” the man shook his head. “We just received word through the ‘far-caller’ that a rider came from house Vidal with news he was ordered only to share with you.”

“Where is he now?”

“In front of the mountain pass. We didn’t allow him in without proper proof.”

“Understandable. Let’s go.”

The two left the manor without further ado, heading over to Landwaker Square to use the gateway. ‘I should probably build one for myself back in the manor.’ Regis thought to himself as the runes lit up on the ground, swallowing them in a flash of light. They arrived at the hidden chamber of the guard post at the mountain pass gate, joining the current group of guards outside.

“Where is he?” He asked and one of the soldiers pointed down in front of the gate.

“I am Lord Regis Thorne,” he spoke loudly to get the rider's attention. “State your business.”

“I bring an urgent message from Lady Zola in the form of a sealed letter, your lordship. I was instructed to only hand it over to you.”

Regis sighed as he cast ‘feather fall’ on himself before jumping down from the high wall. He landed beside the horse, waiting for the man to get a good look at him before handing over a wax-sealed scroll bearing the Vidal family’s symbol. He used his arcane senses to make sure there was no poison or any magical trap on the letter before accepting the sealed scroll.

“Would you like to come inside to feed the horse or to at least give it some water?”

“If you would permit it, sir,” the man nodded as he got off his mount. “However, her ladyship asked me to tell you that she hopes you’d head over to Mistfield once dawn breaks.”

“I understand. Now come in and rest. Open the gates!” He yelled and the large reinforced gates slowly opened.

Grego looked at his liege and the scroll in his hand curiously.

“Get some fodder and water for his mount and something to drink for the rider as well,” the loremaster ordered the guards before looking at Grego. “We should get going. This seems important.”

They used the gateway to return to Landwaker Square where he stood beneath a nearby arcane lamppost and broke the seal of the letter. Inside, he only found four words. ‘His Majesty passed away.’

“Shit.” He cursed as he rolled the parchment back up.

“Is it that bad?” The guard captain looked at him puzzled by his sudden cursing.

“Yes,” Regis sighed. “I’ll head over to Zola as soon as the sun shows up. For now, go and get some rest, but inform the others tomorrow to meet me in the manor at seven.”

“Understood, sir.” The man acknowledged the order before leaving, a serious expression and a frown marring his face.

The dark elf walked along the cobblestone streets while deep in thought. King Mikkel was dead. That brought up far too many questions for him to stay calm. Was the cause of death natural, or was it an assassination? Did the man at least name a successor before dying? How would the successor approach the future dealings with Thornfell? ‘This is going to be a shitshow.’

He sighed as he reached the manor, walking up to his room where he collapsed on his bed. A bit over an hour later he woke back up thanks to the rooster he was still planning to roast with some red wine, but after some cold water in the face, his mind cleared and he was ready to face the incoming storm. After getting a fresh shirt and a vest he hated with all of his might but Tristan argued was a must-have for semi-formal visits, he returned to the gateway at Landwaker Square. Using the transportation circle, he disappeared from Thornfell and reappeared in Mistfield, the local guards already waiting for him.

“Lord Regis,” one of them said with a slight nod. “Lady Zola is waiting for you at the manor.”

“Thanks.” The loremaster spoke briefly before he walked away.

Mistfield was quiet, yet busy in the early morning with no sign of any panic besides the guard’s serious tone just now. ‘They must be keeping the information from the public to prevent any panic.’ He thought while walking. On his way toward the Vidal manor he saw an increased number of guard patrols, but no one stopped him from reaching his destination. At the entrance of the manor, a familiar face greeted him.

“Good morning, your lordship.”

“I wish that was true, Sir Desimir.”

“Indeed.” the greying-haired man sighed as he escorted the dark elf inside the manor and along the corridors that lead to the study.

“My lady,” the man spoke after gently knocking on the door. “Lord Regis has arrived.”

“Come in.” The tired voice of Zola could be heard from the other side.

As the two entered the room, they found Zola, Magda and Galen inside. The mages were sitting on a small sofa near the fireplace, but Zola just kept walking back and forth in front of the windows, even though her guest had arrived.

“So,” Regis broke the awkward silence. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” she replied, finally stopping. “The information came directly from our people at the palace. I believe the rest of the nobility already knows it as well.”

“Did he manage to...”

“No successor was named.” Galen added.

“Fuck.” The dark elf let out a long and exasperated sigh.

“That would be a fitting expression,” Magda spoke up, surprising the loremaster. “His Majesty died yesterday in the early afternoon. As soon as the Archbishop confirmed his death, all hell broke loose.”

“The knights and palace guards immediately split into two groups, both aiming their blades at the other in service of their prince.” Zola explained what she knew from the information she received.

“It was only thanks to Archbishop Philip that no blood was shed as he stated the Church of the Seven would not support either of them since their priority was to organise the late king’s funeral.”

“Both princes agreed to postpone the matter of succession for two days until the funeral ceremony is over,” Galen added. “But we all know that’s just them biding their time and making their moves in the shadows. They had already sent word to their followers to ask for their support.”

“And which of the princes do you support?”

“Neither,” Zola answered with her brows creased. “That is one of the things I am worried about. Neither of them sent a messenger so far and I cannot say whether it is because neither of them thinks that house Vidal could be useful or if it is because they have secretly offered my territory to someone in exchange for their aid.”

“Can they even do that? I mean, neither of them has been crowned yet, so they can’t just strip you of your title and lands.”

“Not officially,” Galen remarked. “But that does not mean that we are safe from the nearby nobility. The Vidal territory is bordered by two others, which means that if either of them were to receive such an offer...”

“They could attack and conquer this place to increase the size of their own territory. The real problem is that both of your neighbours could receive a similar offer.”

“If that were to happen, then we are doomed. Our forces are far too few in numbers to defend against both sides. We might not even be able to defend against one.”

“I wish I could say that I can give you more soldiers,” Regis sighed. “But I can’t. Thornfell doesn’t even a tenth of your military force. I could help you shore up your defences by enchanting the town’s gates or get you some enchanted equipment, but I’m not sure how much time we have, or if you are indeed under such a threat.”

“We would be grateful for any help you can provide,” Zola said while fighting her own tears that were threatening to start rolling down her cheeks. “I have a few people in Lord Graham’s and Lord Arlo’s territories to send us word if something were to happen, I’m afraid we will have to prepare for the worst.

“And what about the third option?”

“Third option?” Magda looked at the loremaster puzzled by his words.

“You said that you haven’t received word from either of the princes yet, but what if that changes? What if either of them or both sends you a call for aid?”

“I do not know,” Zola answered disheartened. “I would first have to find out who the others are supporting before making such a decision. If Lord Arlo or Graham chose to serve another prince, then we might become enemies with them if I choose the opposing side.”

“Either way, I must return and speak to the others about the matter. They might have some ideas about how we could help you if it comes to the worst scenario.”

“Thank you, Regis,” she nodded after letting out a deep sigh. “In the meantime, we will also take a look at what needs to be done around here.”

“Alright,” the dark elf turned toward the door. “I’ll return as soon as possible.”

With that he left the manor and walked back to the gateway, using it to return to Thornfell. As he reached his home, he found Euric and Tristan talking in the great hall.

“Welcome come back, sir!” The butler greeted him immediately.

“The others have already arrived and are waiting for you in the dining room.” Tristan stated as they walked through the main hall.

“Good. I don’t know how much time we have so let’s get this over with.”

As they entered the dining room, the rest of the outlanders turned toward them with both curiosity and worry.

“What’s going on Regis?” Quentin asked as the loremaster walked over to his usual seat, slumping down on it.

“King Mikkel died yesterday afternoon.” He stated after making sure that Euric had left the room.

“Shit.” Was the first word that resounded in the room after hearing his statement.

“Who’s the successor?” Valerie asked the important question, earning a slight head shake from the dark elf.

“He didn’t name his successor before dying. The first and second princes almost immediately jumped at each other’s throats and only stopped when the Archbishop used the church’s influence to snap them out of it. They agreed to postpone the issue to after the burial ceremony, so the kingdom won two more days of peace.”

“Peace my ass,” Cruz grumbled. “I bet they’re already preparing their forces to duke it out between each other.”

“According to Zola, the second prince had already sent out his call to arms for his followers which means that the first prince must have done the same.”

“That’s just great,” Osmond sighed. “They’ve barely survived a war and an undead threat, yet they’re already preparing for the next one.”

“So what are we going to do now?” Mary spoke up. “We’re not part of Ecragurne, so we shouldn’t be part of their succession battle either.”

“We might not be,” Regis stated. “But Zola is. The reason she’s so worried is that according to her informants, both princes sent out their call to arms, but she didn’t receive one from either of them.”

“Fuck,” Fabien growled. “She’s going to become a sacrificial pawn. Stuff like that happened before, offering the territory of the weaker noble families to others in exchange for their help.”

“That’s what we thought as well.” The dark elf agreed.

“I know we are allies and all, but what are we supposed to do now? I mean we can’t exactly send them soldiers, since we don’t have too much of them either.”

“I offered some aid in the way of enchanting her soldiers’ equipment and the gates of Mistfield, but she understands we can’t send any true military aid.”

“This is so fucked up,” Amanda said, practically growling. “We barely managed to fix up Thornfell and now this happens. Are you certain we’re safe? What guarantee do we have that they won’t attack us too?”

“Nothing,” Regis admitted. “That’s the real problem. After the lords’ assembly, they now know that I’m a tier three spell weaver, but just one such mage won’t stop them.”

“According to what I’ve heard while we were at the assembly,” Quentin spoke his mind. “The first prince is the more reasonable one, being pretty much King Mikkel 2.0, but the second prince is said to be almost delusionally ambitious. If he gets to win the succession, then he’s pretty much guaranteed to turn his gaze toward us.”

“But if we decide to intervene in this war, then both of them will turn their eyes toward us.” Letty reminded them, everyone finding the situation more troublesome by the minute.

“The least we could do is give Zola a fighting chance,” Valerie hummed. “Maybe we could send over a hundred or two of those failed fire arrows you’ve been stockpiling.”

“I wouldn’t call it a failure,” Sophie noted. “Sure, they don’t catch on fire during flight, but they explode on impact. That’s a lot better, right?”

“I agree with Val,” her brother nodded. “Those arrows could do some serious damage if they have to defend the town’s walls.”

“That’s exactly why we can’t give them more than two hundred,” Osmond argued. “How much do we have of those? Five hundred? Six? If the princes or the nobles attack us, we’ll need those arrows to defend the mountain pass.”

“Letty,” the loremaster turned to the wood elf. “We need to amp up our dragon powder production.”

“Oh yeah,” Amanda mumbled. “We have that stuff too. How much did you hoard so far?”

“About twenty-five kilos.”

“Damn,” Cruz nearly spat out the water she was drinking. “That could make a lot of grenades.”

“We agreed not to make things like that.” Mary reminded the group, but she soon realised that her argument was invalid in the face of a possible war.