Even the short retreat back to the capital had drained Evinda's emotions. She knew it would be worse going forward, however. Their initial withdrawal led to complaints rising from the ranks that they had dishonored those who died in the Battle of the Nehal River. The Empress held those complaints herself, but she dared not express them to Rohmhelt, even in private. If word of a rift between the Emperor and Empress broke out, morale would crumble.

Their columns lethargically entered Methrangia, flopping into the city like limp noodles. While throngs of citizens gathered along the major streets to watch the army enter, it was not a rapturous celebration. Rather, it had more the air of a funeral. Evinda feared just such a development once Rohmhelt ordered the withdrawal.

She spoke to Cyrona, who traveled near the column's vanguard, about her doubts.

"I do not know whether this is wise. What I do know, however, is that events are conspiring against us at the moment," Cyrona despaired, even her normally sparkling watery body losing some of its luster. "The affections of your subjects are fragile things. I love Forynda as much as anything, I cannot escape a simple fact. She erred terribly."

To hear such a thing from Forynda's closest ally was an incredible shock to Evinda. The certainty with which Matriarch Yldrina and her acolytes still spoke of the High Angel was at odds even with the angels of Ceuna. Such maddening dissonance could not long be maintained.

She tried to put those doubts aside while entering Heldraht Palace alongside Rohmhelt, Marshal Agrehn, and Lohs. Rohmhelt had maintained an admirably brave face during the withdrawal, but he also said little. If he was troubled by his decision, he was hiding it well.

The attendants with whom she had trusted the care of their son, Crown Prince Vingraht, approached with the boy awkwardly waddling between them, each of them grasping one of his hands. So troubled had been the prior several weeks that she felt guilt at the fact that she spent almost no time at all thinking of her son. Her heart fluttered in joy when looking upon his slightly red skin and pale blue hair. His wide eyes maintained that enviable innocence about the world she wished she could learn again.

"Your Imperial Majesty," one of the attendants announced to Rohmhelt, bowing graciously.

"Impy majee!" Vingraht mumbled in a high-pitched voice.

Laughs erupted from virtually all of those gathered, including fatigued chuckles from the young boy's parents. Evinda shared a smile with Rohmhelt as the laughs died down.

"That's close enough," Rohmhelt said before he bent down and touched a finger to the Crown Prince's nose. Vingraht giggled gleefully. "Well, we'll be traveling together. We can work on that as we go."

"What was that, Your Imp..." one of the attendants started.

"West," Rohmhelt strained as he stood to his feet. "We're abandoning Methrangia and heading back into the western third of the Empire."

Hearing him say that again was more deflating than Evinda had been prepared to accept. Part of her hoped that he would have changed his mind. To have those hopes dashed so tersely jarred her.

"Very good, Your Imper..." the attendant awkwardly acknowledged.

"Impy majee! Impy majee!" Vingraht giggled while swinging between the attendants' hands.

After another round of adoring laughter, notably weaker than the one before it, Rohmhelt bent down and looked at his son.

"We might just have to change the honorific," the Emperor smiled and ran his hand over the Crown Prince's head. He then turned around and pointed toward Evinda, Lohs, and Marshal Agrehn. "We'll be meeting in my personal chambers now. We have a lot to discuss."

In Rohmhelt's unornamented and barren study, the four discussed the withdrawal's progress and the deluge of news that poured into the capital during the prior three days. The great majority of the reports and dispatches confirmed Rohmhelt's wisdom in sensing that it was time to retreat. Even before he gave the order, numerous villages, north and south of the capital, abandoned Rohmhelt's cause and their garrisons either left their posts or declared for Duronaht. Word carried from agents in the east that Duronaht now had no shortage of volunteers to fill his ranks, with Forynda's destruction of Zarmand driving most of the change in allegiance.

"That's nothing unexpected," Rohmhelt grumbled as he leaned back into a simple wooden chair. He rubbed his hands straight back through his hair, causing it to almost comically rise into the air. "What's our current count, Marshal Agrehn?"

"Five-hundred fifty thousand and dropping, of course," Agrehn reported dryly. "I expect we'll lose a good deal more before we set out from the capital. Given the opportunity to return home, the men who don't want to fight will take their chance to do so."

"Can't we make an example of them?" Evinda interjected angrily. "I don't see how we can maintain discipline like this."

Lohs coughed and raised a finger.

"That invites a different problem," the bald old man said. "If we give the order to execute deserters and the men we give that order to don't carry it out, our discipline will just utterly collapse. There is nothing more dangerous than trying to exercise authority and have it fail. To use a crude analogy, and I apologize in advance, it's like when a man woos a suitor by claiming prowess he doesn't have, only to be discovered in the bedchamber to be lacking."

That comparison caused the Emperor to wheeze laughing while Evinda and Agrehn glanced awkwardly at one another.

"I take your point, Lohs," Evinda mumbled. "So we are just going to accept more defections, then?"

Agrehn nodded.

"Quite so," the marshal conceded, stroking his hand over his puffy beard. "I have tried to place those formations with the highest number of central or eastern troops toward the rear. If they're aiming to defect, I won't let them do it near the Imperial family or the rest of our leadership. We'll keep the Karmand troops closest to you as we continue to move westward."

"That all makes a lot of sense. Thank you," Rohmhelt acknowledged Agrehn. "Most of what remains should be fairly loyal. I'm more worried about keeping them provisioned and safe from attack."

"Both are issues that worry me as well, Your Imperial Majesty," he lamented. "I am hoping that we can create suitable delaying actions to protect ourselves as we march first toward Eynond. The difficulty is if Omonrel and his allied angels attack us."

"I put my faith in our own angels, Marshal Agrehn," Evinda assured him.

Rohmhelt nodded and then motioned toward both Lohs and Agrehn.

"You can leave now," Rohmhelt yawned. "The Empress and I need to speak alone."

Once the two departed, the Emperor paced back and forth in front of Evinda several times, his right hand clenching in a pulsating fashion while he mumbled under his breath. She wanted to ask what burdened him, but she decided to just wait until he spoke first.

"Do you still think I did the wrong thing?" he asked at last, his eyes locking straight on to hers.

"The retreat?" Evinda asked.

"Yes."

"Not anymore. I didn't realize how weak our position had become in central Methrangia until I saw it with my own eyes."

Rohmhelt nodded and shuffled toward one of the west-facing windows and stared out at the great expanses on their journey toward Karmand. It would be months of marching across awful terrain and worsening weather as autumn faded to winter. Evinda knew her husband must have thought of that.

"I hoped that somehow it would be different than this," he groaned. "All of those awful visions I've seen. Lands covered in the dead. Cities burned to the ground. And worse. When we were winning the Battle of the Nehal River, I thought that it might be possible to avoid all of that. Then... I don't have to say it."

"You don't," she said and moved closer to place her hands upon his left shoulder.

The Emperor's head sank, his chin coming close to touching his chest.

"I realize something now. All those visions, what Simel said, and all the rest. It's nothing we can do anything about. It's just glimpses of things that've happened already," he whimpered.

Evinda looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"How can something in the future have..." she started.

"I thought about what Vorlan told me once," Rohmhelt interrupted. "He said something to me about how the Progenitor exists in a timeless realm. Everything flowing through that place exists at every single time and yet no time at all. If that's so... I'm afraid I'm not smart enough to explain this."

He began laughing with a forced cackle. Evinda felt his rumbling anxieties through her hands.

"It's not easy, but I understand," she said. That was only a modest lie. She lightly grasped what he said, even if it was well beyond mortal experience. Shamans regularly discussed such things in her native lands while the angels did what they could to impart the concept to her. "You mean that to the Progenitor, which exists at all times, this has already all happened and that's sometimes showing itself to you."

He turned his head toward her and nodded before tipping his face downward to rub his cheek, covered in whiskers, along her hand.

"It's funny. So many people in this world probably think they want to have power," he mumbled. "They wouldn't if they knew how miserable this is."

~~~

Duronaht walked with Empress Torhess at his side toward Omonrel and Parlon, both of whom floated above a small hillock overlooking the capital of Methrangia. He sensed his love's shock upon seeing that Solnaht Citadel no longer stood proudly over the whole city. While the capital city was still a grand sight to behold in the autumn afternoon's golden glow, it was impossible to not notice its absence.

Just as noticeable as the towering citadel's absence was the swelling belly of his Empress. She would give birth soon, a once unthinkable blessing. Before Nethron greatly corrected Torhess's illness, having a child by her was impossible. Disappointing as that fact was, he had accepted it. Now that he was on the cusp of having a son and heir, he couldn't yet fully embrace just how drastically his fortunes had changed.

"It will be yours, my Emperor," Omonrel said as Duronaht and Torhess walked up beside him. "Every signal we have seen indicates that your traitor brother will leave the capital tomorrow."

"And his forces are splintering," Parlon cheerily sang. "Both to the winds and to us! His light fades and yours shines."

Torhess smiled and squeezed Duronaht's right hand.

"You'll finally have what you deserve, my love," she said. "With the capital yours, no one will be able to doubt your claim."

He grinned while also shaking his head.

"Sadly, no," he said in a form of resigned amusement. "Brother will still have his followers, especially the westerners. At least until we smash them."

He glanced to his right and left, observing his armies marching toward the capital on either side. The ranks of his soldiers appeared endless in their row after row of glinting armor and colorful banners. He wasn't even sure how many men he had now. His mind wasn't nimble enough to keep up with the constant flow of wonderful news.

"Yes, and that moment will be coming soon," Omonrel said. "There is no reason to attack the capital when it will fall into our hands regardless. But after that, then there will be a reckoning. Myrvaness is eager to lead that effort and I will help her myself."

"Is there any sign that Elaous will do anything?" Duronaht asked, which caused Omonrel's grin to fade. "Ever since he came to us, he's been inclined to just sit on his ass as far as I can tell."

Parlon chuckled at the Emperor's comments.

"That is his way," Parlon lyrically replied.

"He has committed to defend your lands and peoples against Forynda and her followers," Omonrel said. "You cannot expect him, however, to lead an attack. He was called Ceuna's Guardian for a reason. Bolder strokes were never his preference."

"Hmph," Duronaht grunted. "Still, I guess that's better than nothing."

"Indeed and I suspect once the capital is yours we can rely upon him to hold it for you," the Sculptor added. "You have never seen his power, but I assure you that it would be difficult for any to dislodge him."

That thought delighted Duronaht as he scanned his eyes across the sprawling city and the lovely lands surrounding it. That which his father meant to deny him would soon be his.

~~~

Rohmhelt's columns departed at dawn. As Agrehn and Lohs had warned, the ranks were somewhat depleted by the desertions of thousands who chose to simply return home rather than continue on their westward journey. The great majority of his army stayed true, however, and many thousands of loyal citizens joined him rather than remain to suffer under his vile brother's misrule.

After the withdrawal got underway, Rohmhelt rode his horse to a heavily wooded rise just west of the city to observe the departure of his legions and followers. While leaving Methrangia abandoned saddened him, he found encouragement that he still could claim the loyalty of so many.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Vorlan appeared and floated next to him.

"This was not easy for you, but it is the right decision," the Earth Angel spoke in a solemn tone. "Where there is survival, there is a chance at recovery."

The Emperor gave only the faintest of acknowledgements to that.

"Duronaht is going to attack me with his angels as soon as Methrangia is his," he lamented. "He just wanted to see how weak I'd become. Nothing holds him back now, does it?"

"No," Vorlan agreed, his mossy beard drooping. "And that means I shall have to fight my brethren."

"I can't imagine it's easy for you."

"That scarcely begins to capture my grief," the angel lamented. "This world is already awash in tears and the deluge will only grow."

Rohmhelt wearily nodded and then turned his attention westward, where his vanguard was already marching steadily up the road.

"With all of this misery, I'll try to appreciate every peaceful moment we have."