“You were easier to find than I expected.” He was reclining in a sturdy wooden chair, legs kicked up on a desk, nibbling at an apple that didn’t belong to him. The Queen, Marcella of wherever, daughter of whomever, stared at him in shock.

She managed to fumble out a sentence. “How’d you find me?”

Dere gave her a mischievous grin. “Greased a few pockets, asked a few questions, displayed some patriotic sentiment, climbed through a third story window. Really, it was quite simple. Only took a day or two. And now I'm...” He looked around at the moist grimy walls surrounding him with a little distaste. “... here.” They were on the third floor study of an abandoned manor on the Western edge of the city. Once large and stately, it had fallen into disrepair and left to rot, providing an excellent hiding place for a Queen on the run.

Marcella looked at him, looked behind her, looked back, mouth agape the whole time. “Sorry, maybe I started with the wrong question.” The surprise was fading and anger rose to fill the void. “Why, in Ilu’s name, are you here?”

“I think it would be obvious. I’m decided to be a hero. Help you get your country back. Join this rebellion you’ve got brewing down here. Maybe even save the world.” He didn’t even try to hide the smile.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you. Should I call up the guard?” She was simmering.

Dere chuckled and took another bite out of the apple. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. If you must know, I’m here for information.” She raised an eyebrow but nothing more. “I want to know about Duval. I figured, probably correctly, you and your little group would be able to tell me what I need to know.”

She tilted her head in confusion, anger abating a little. “Why would you, of all people, want to know about Duval? You made your opinion pretty clear on our petty political affairs.”

“An opinion I still stand by.” The humor left his tone and a colder edge crept into his voice. “It’s not so much about Duval. It’s about who, or rather what, he’s employing. You’ve heard of these faceless men, I assume?”

Cautious amber eyes fixated on his.“What do you know about them?”

“Much more than you do.” She frowned and stared at the floor, unsure and still a little angry. “What I’m proposing,” He continued, trying his best to sound reasonable. “Is an exchange of information. We help each other out. I tell you what I know about the faceless men. You tell me what you, and your group,” He motioned around the building. “Know about Duval.”

“Fair enough.” She said after a moment's thought. “You start.” Dere raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me if I’m unwilling to put my full trust in a man who not only claims to follow the God of Liars and Thieves but also whose name I still don’t know. You start.” She gave him a mocking grin.

His laugh bounced around the musty room. “Suppose it’s hard to argue with that logic. So, what do you want to know?” He took another bite from the apple.

“What are they?”

Chewing on the apple, he considered how to answer. “Men, dead men, resurrected by Ona or one of her followers into the perfect soldier. They feel no pain, they’re thrice as strong as a regular man, they follow orders without question, and they have no pesky morality holding them back. They’re quite effective, as I’m sure you know.”

Head tilted, she mused. “That doesn’t make sense. Ona was killed...”

“Three thousand years ago, yes.” He said, interrupting her. “They were the Goddess of Darkness’ foot soldiers in the Immortal War. Haven’t been seen since she....” He paused again before settling on a word. “...perished. Which is why I’m so curious how Duval managed to get his hands on an army of them.”

Marcella bit at her lower lip, consumed in thought. She settled on her next question. “Okay, leaving aside the hundreds of other questions that brings up, how do we beat them?”

Dere shrugged. “There are a few ways. As I said, they’re obedient, almost to a fault. Take out their commander or exploit his human limitations and you can beat them. They have no thought of their own. They will follow orders without hesitation, straight over a cliff even, if you’re clever enough.” His eyes twinkled and he sported his signature grin. She nodded in understanding.

Rubbing her face, she spoke to nobody in particular and sat down across from him. “This is crazy. Monsters of a long dead god, here, in Clovin.” She looked back at him, realization dawning on her face. “It was Dere who did it right? Dere who killed Ona? Is that why you’re suddenly so interested in this?”

“Know your history, I see.” His eyes went very cold, their usual multicolored gray hardening to almost black. “But yes, I suppose that's what they say.” It was clear that he’d give her nothing more.

Confused by his sudden mood turn, she paused before her next question.“Okay, who’s their leader, then? Duval?”

A grin worked its way back onto Dere’s face, expelling the odd mood that crossed it seconds before, like it had never even been there in the first place. "I think this is where my questions can begin. I’m wondering the same thing myself. So, tell me about Duval.”

At first, it seemed like she might protest the switch in questioning, but she ended up relenting with a sigh. “What do you want to know about him?”

Fiddling with his apple core, he seemed to consider. “How did he do it?”

She watched as he fiddled with the core, annoyed expression crossing her face. “That was my apple, you know?”

He grinned. “And it was delicious.” He took one last nibble out of it. “How did he do it?”

She ran her hand through her hair. “Duval’s always been the ambitious type. He’s wanted the throne for over a decade now. Constantly scheming and plotting, looking for whatever opportunity he could find. After years of buttering up a few Highlords, he finally felt he was in a position to make a play for the throne, but it never should have worked.” Dere tilted his head. “Duval managed to seize control of the kingdom with the aid of five of the fifteen Highlords. Nobody has done it before without a majority. Originally, he had counted on other Highlords defecting to his side. They didn’t.” She shook her head. “The war was almost over. Duval was losing. His Highlords were wavering. We had him trapped. We were going to win.” Dere leaned forward in his seat, listening intently. She sighed. “And then… everything went wrong.”

“The Faceless Men?” Dere asked.

She nodded, seeming tired all of a sudden. “I’ve only heard what I have from the others, but, as I understand, it was a nightmare. They wouldn’t die. Our best knights were slain, powerful Blessed ripped to the ground and torn apart, Prince Andrei brought down with the rest. Thousands of innocent men, boys really, slaughtered without mercy.” Her tone became hard, angry. Dere listened in silence. “And then, he just walked into the city, unopposed. Took it and the castle. Dragged Erdrick out, kicking and screaming, too old to fight, and cut his head off. I managed to hide, to get away, but I saw it roll.” Struggling to maintain her composure, she went on. “He was a good man, you know? Not the best king, old and half-senile with a body that could no longer contain his power, but a good man.” She looked at him with contempt. “Not that it matters to you. You made that clear.” Angry tears streamed down her face.

Dere allowed her a minute to regain her composure. It only took her a few moments. She looked at him, tear tracks visible on her cheeks but otherwise calm. “I’m sorry, if it means anything. I'm sure it was awful.” She didn't meet his eyes. Dere pursed his lips, unsure of what to do. It seemed unfair to push her more, but he had to know. He drew a breath. “So, he just suddenly had those monsters? No idea how?”

“There were whispers, rumors between his soldiers.” Marcella paused, taking a few deep breaths. “Stories of an advisor, a man who approached Duval in his most desperate hour and offered help.”

“Do you know if those stories are true?”

“No.”

Dere scratched the slight stubble he had grown in the past few days. “Would the advisor still be with Duval?”

“Almost assuredly.” She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, staring into the fire at the edge of the room, instead.

“And Duval’s in the castle?”

“No. He has left Highlord Besson in charge of the city. Duval’s out in the country, ensuring the loyalty of the remaining Highlords.”

Dere sighed. “Never easy, is it?”

Smirking, she said. “What did you expect? To break back into the castle, figure out what’s going on, end this in one fell swoop?”

“Few more steps in between, but, yeah, essentially.”

“Duval’s paranoia is infamous. He has some of the most powerful Blessed in the kingdom watching his back whenever he isn’t. I know nothing about his advisor, but, if he exists, at the very least he’s being guarded too, and I have a suspicion that he probably wouldn't need it.”

Dere examined his right hand, bandage still on it. “You’re right. It would be foolish. I guess I’m having trouble conceptualizing my new…” He pursed his lips. “...weakness.” Dere kept looking at his hand, odd expression on his face. Marcella narrowed her eyes, curious and confused, but didn’t pursue the line of questioning. “Alright,” He said, snapping out of it for the time being. “Is that all you know?”

“More or less.”

He nodded and stood up, glancing around the room as he did. “Well then, it has been a…”

“If you want to know more, I think we can help each other again.”

Dere gave her his full attention. “How so?”

“We can’t get to Duval, but we might be able to reach his oldest friend, Highlord Besson. We have our own reasons, but if anyone were to know about how Duval got an army of undead nightmares, it would be him.”

“You’re so desperate to drag me into your little Rebellion.” Dere sat back in the chair and contemplated, slight smile dancing across his face.

Her own face remained emotionless. “You made your opinion on what we’re doing clear. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, much like this conversation, nothing more. We could use your help.”

Dere looked at her, young face set in grim determination. Understanding dawned on him. He leaned forward. “You don’t want my help. You need my help.”

She shifted in her seat. “Well…”

“You can’t do whatever you're planning without me, can you? Or, at least someone like me?”

Lips pursed in frustration, she muttered. “Your gifts could be useful, and…” She grimaced. “well, they don’t know your face.” She sighed. “Alright, we could really use your help.”

Dere grinned. “Fine, you’ve got a deal.”

Her eyes flickered for a second, but she regained her composure before Dere was sure what he saw. “Wonderful. You’ll need to meet the rest.” She got up and walked towards the door. “I’ll tell them not to kill you.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Dere said, following her out.