“I can handle it,” Durran suggested, raising one hand up.

“What?” Argrave asked.

The four members of Argrave’s party sat in one of their rooms, two of them with Humorless masks donned. A few empty bottles lay around—though it did look suspiciously like alcohol, they were the potions Argrave had demanded Galamon brew to give his party more disease resistance. Mina had yet to wake up, but Argrave intended to speak with her about something, too.

“You want your big brother Magnus to croak some info about the big bad evil—it so happens this is an interest of mine. If he really does have a god whispering in his ear, I’m sure I can figure it out,” he suggested, entwining his gray wyvern scale gauntleted hands.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Argrave frowned, tilting his head in disbelief.

“Hey, if you don’t want me to, say ‘no.’ I’ll get in line. I don’t want to be stepping on any toes with that damned maniac wandering about. You see the way he crushed that poor girl’s head?”

Argrave nodded and looked to the ground.

“At least Drezki died the way she wanted,” Galamon said, his arms crossed.

Argrave looked to him, frowning.

“No one can call her a coward, fighting against that man as boldly as she did,” he concluded further, closing his eyes.

Argrave nodded in agreement, but he found himself thinking of the scene once again and shook his head.

He focused back on the matter at hand—Durran’s suggestion. He mulled over the matter, biting as his lip as he thought, then continued, “You have to keep in mind this is just a suspicion of mine, not a confirmed fact,” Argrave held his hand out and pointed at Durran.

“Which is why you’re asking me to confirm it,” Durran nodded, looking at Argrave like he was slow. “That’s kind of how ‘confirming’ works, you realize. When you’re uncertain, you—"

“Don’t get all cute about it,” Argrave held out his hands to stifle Durran, which made the golden-tattooed tribal laugh. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Durran shrugged as he shook his head.

“Very encouraging,” Argrave furrowed his brows.

“I’m resourceful,” Durran held both of his hands out. “Look, if you don’t think I can, just say ‘no,’ and this matter’s closed, Argrave. You don’t need to collapse any more towering pieces of architecture to keep me in line.”

Argrave lowered his head, rubbing his chin as he thought about the matter. Certainly, Durran was a main character in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ The player always did all kinds of ridiculously obscure investigation quests without much issue, which said something about all of the characters and their resourcefulness.

Even excluding ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ Durran had proven himself. Despite Argrave’s compunctions about the matter with the Margrave’s wyvern, the fact remained it worked out well.

Argrave lifted his head and said decisively, “I’ll allow it. But first—you’ll have to hear everything I know about Magnus so that you can act easier, make no mistakes, that sort of thing.”

Durran lounged back. “I’m sure you just want an excuse to talk more, but fine.”

Argrave shook his head but smiled. “Alright. Once that’s done, we’ll check on Silvic, make sure she’s settled in without issue, and then… I’ll have a conversation with Mina.” His smile grew bitter. “Have to make sure nothing else goes wrong.”

#####

“How can you be so fine? The suns are barely above the trees, and I’m still half-asleep,” Mina complained, rubbing at her eyes as she sat across from Argrave and Anneliese. They sat at a dining table in an abandoned part of the keep, largely alone. Anneliese’s Starsparrow ate magic seeds off the table before them, and the elven woman played with the creature idly. Argrave’s Brumesingers still slept, nestled in his gray duster. All of them sat within a ward of Anneliese’s making, ensuring no sound would leak.

Galamon stood nearby, remaining standing. Durran was off doing his thing. Argrave couldn’t deny that he was worried. It might be Durran decides that Magnus would be better off unalive.

The part that disquieted Argrave was that the idea didn’t seem such a poor one, provided it never linked back to any of them. He was changing, it seemed.

“I can be so fine because I’ve been doing this for months now,” Argrave explained. “Waking up when I don’t want to, doing things I don’t want to do, and then going to bed far later than I would like. I’m well accustomed to early mornings.”

“You could call me a spoiled brat in fewer words,” she finished rubbing her eyes.

Argrave smiled and laughed lightly. “By the way… try not to rub your eyes. And keep that mask on tight. They weren’t cheap, and they’re very effective at preventing the waxpox. Or any disease, I suppose.”

Mina froze like she’d been caught doing something bad, and then said, “I just washed my hands.”

Argrave simply smiled, saying nothing. As if cowed, Mina quickly put the Humorless Mask back over her face.

“Well, whatever,” she quickly shook her head, voice now distorted from behind the white solemn mask. “Why don’t you wear one? You got so sick so easily last time at Mateth.”

Argrave placed his hands on the table. “We talked about this. I’m Black Blooded, now. Like dragons.”

Mina tilted her head suspiciously.

Argrave sighed and took off his glove, then took a small splinter off the table to draw some blood. Mina cocked her head back, a little shocked. Blood started to drip out. It was very dark in color.

“Argrave…” Anneliese said exasperatedly, then healed his finger in an almost casual fashion.

Argrave held his finger out. “If you drank this, some of your magic would replenish, you know.”

“Normal people don’t do something like that to prove a point,” Mina said cautiously.

Argrave turned and very nearly offered his finger to Galamon as a jest, before he realized present company might take that poorly. Ultimately, he wiped the blood away and said, “Normal people don’t have magic in their bloodstream.”

“I was more talking about the fact people find it difficult to hurt themselves,” Mina shook her head.

Argrave smiled at that. “It’s been a long journey,” he said simply. He saw Galamon nod in agreement in his peripheries.

Mina stared at him for a time with complex emotions shining through even despite the mask, then shook her head to dismiss errant thoughts. “Well, enough. We can finally talk about why I came here. Induen—why in the world is he bursting into my father’s keep, wanting to speak to me, of all people?”

Argrave blinked slowly, a little taken aback. After sparing a glance at Anneliese as she put her hair back into a half-crown braid, he turned his gaze back to Mina and rested his elbows on the table.

“You see, that’s a funny question. It sort of tailors into what I wanted to talk to you about, you see.”

Mina’s eyes widened in anticipation. “So you know why he’s there? I knew talking to you would be the right idea.”

Argrave scratched his cheek, feeling the conversation had become all the more difficult. “Well… to put it in simple terms… no,” he said plainly.

Mina’s face darkened. “Oh,” she said quietly.

“Oh,” Argrave repeated.

“You’ve got no idea?” Mina placed her hands on the table, leaning in.

Argrave straightened his back. “What did he say?”

“Complete nonsense. He said he came here to stop the plague,” she spread her arms out in a disbelieving shrug.

Argrave furrowed his brows. “Come to think of it, you said that you were the one behind that change in Veden,” he noted.

Mina nodded. “Nicky’s smart. The more I stayed by her side, the more I learned. She conscripted me for some things, you see. She’ll be the greatest head of House Monticci there ever has been,” Mina said proudly. “She had to deal with refugees from the Veidimen invasion—I just applied some of those lessons on a lesser scale.”

Argrave noted she cast a glance at Anneliese as she spoke of the Veidimen invasion. He shelved that observation and focused on the important matter—Induen.

“You ever think Induen might be…” Argrave began, biting his lip. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“Perhaps he was being honest,” Anneliese suggested as she finished her half-crown braid.

Mina scoffed, then spoke to Anneliese, saying, “You might not know much about Induen being from that frozen land, but he’s a real monster. A butcher with a princely mantle, nothing more.”

Argrave held his finger out to stop her. “But he’s not stupid. Things have gotten bad in the south—I can attest to that as much as you can, probably. Between the warmer climate and King Felipe ostensibly hastening the disease, it’s tearing the south apart.”

“You think the King…?” Mina began, then took a deep breath as epiphany dawned on her. “It makes sense.”

Argrave nodded bitterly. “If Induen had seen how bad the south is, he might take it upon himself to keep it away from the north, as Anneliese suggests.”

Mina didn’t look quite satisfied with that answer, but she said nothing.

“That brings me to a favor I had to ask,” Argrave began gingerly. Mina looked at him. “I was hoping that you would be willing to make sure Induen doesn’t come here.”

Mina’s face shifted from behind the mask. “I can’t believe this,” she said in disbelief while shaking her head.

Argrave proceeded quickly, sensing her disapproval. “Induen coming here could set everything I’ve done up in smoke. I’m trying to stop the plague completely—stop its spread utterly—but if Induen gets his grubby little monster fingers in this beautiful plan I’ve got cooking, everything could fall apart.”

Mina stared at him coldly.

“I know it’s a hell of a lot to ask to get yourself involved with that guy, but this is very important—not just for the future of the continent, but the future of the world. Remember, there’s a world ending-calamity coming, will kill us all, et cetera,” Argrave rambled quickly. “Please. Mina. I know you probably don’t even like me that much, but I will definitely repay this favor.”

She blinked, and then turned her gaze away. “Alright,” Mina said quietly. “I’ll do it. But this debt—there’s going to be some heavy damned interest, you know,” she pointed fiercely.

Argrave clapped his hands together. “You have no idea how relieving that is. Thank you. Thank you, sincerely.”

Galamon shifted on his feet, stepping up beside Argrave. He placed his hand on his shoulder and said in his low tone, “Someone’s coming.”

Argrave shifted his head and turned on the dining table bench they sat on, looking to the sole entrance to this place.

“It’s him,” Galamon said, eyes closed. “Orion.”

Argrave’s heart had a natural response of panic. He looked around, feeling as though there was something he should hide, but nothing came to mind. Anneliese dispelled her ward just as Prince Orion entered into the room.

“Brother,” he called out. “Finally found you.”

“Orion,” Argrave greeted, about to stand.

“Sit, sit,” Orion stopped him, walking up. “Well, perhaps it is poor form of me to say so, considering I wish to speak with you elsewhere.”

Argrave stared up at him blankly from the bench. “About the expedition? Or Silvic, or what?”

“About you. Your future,” he said, tone low. “Come. Let’s walk,” he patted Argrave’s shoulder.

A growing nervousness swirled within, and Argrave touched Anneliese’s elbow. “Anneliese,” he called out, attempting to bring her with him.

“Eh—let us speak alone, brother. I have nothing against my beautiful sister-in-law to be, worry not, but I wish to speak with you alone. No one else will be there, not Magnus, not my guards,” Orion amended.

Argrave swallowed, then cast a glance at Anneliese. Some nice time alone with his half-brother was the last thing he wanted.

Nonetheless, Argrave stood, and he and Orion walked out of the room.