Eron's skin itched as if a hundred ants were crawling beneath his armor. He recalled his orders given from the pesky King while they sailed up the Ardanian River.

"Summon the Royal Scribery to my study. Summon Joelis. He's in Greenshine visiting family. Knowing him, he's probably already on his way here. Double the watch on every wall and border in the kingdom. And inform me of any discrepancies. I doubt we'll get any sleep tonight, but I do hope we receive relief and answers to this phenomenon."

The only thing he could do was listen and respond the normal "Yes Your Highness" as he fought the urge and temptation to rip off his ceremonial armor. His skin was on fire and the last thing he wanted to do was his royal duties. The bastard didn't even notice his distress. He recalled a sweeter time when Dimitri took him under his wing when King Thadd used him to do evil biddings. Then the brotherly love shifted to utter disappointment within years and now the only time they did conversate were when issues arose.

Once they were on land, the pathetic king dismissed him rather allow him to join him in the infirmary. Despite his physical distress, he wanted to hear what Grisonce and the High Priest had to say. He wanted to see the Purple Thief and see if she was okay. The ache in his body wouldn't allow him the chance to process why he cared about her now after he was the main one seeking for her death.

"Are you alright?" Ser Garret said, the only one finally to notice when everyone left him standing outside the infirmary.

"I'm fine," he said with an inner growl.

"You look sick," he said.

Eron shifted feet and swallowed hard. His mouth and throat had dried up and a burnt taste lingered on his tongue as if the soft flesh was indeed burning.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am fine," he said. "Keep your escorts close to the King for the remainder of the night. Give me report of any occurrences."

"What about Prince Grisonce?"

"What about him?" he said recalling how the annoying prince retained enough bravery to run towards the purple inflamed pillar. For a minute, in his distress and shock, a sense of admiration for the boy showered him.

"He needs an escort..." Ser Garret said uncertainly.

"Then you give him one. I don't care," he said then stormed away before his anger boiled higher in his soul.

As he crossed the royal ground, wanting to pull out his hair, immediately he was greeted by two boys of the Royal Messengry concerning carriers coming in from the Runes, and the north, the south, the east, and the west sides of the royal grounds. Even his assigned squire joined their walk. He cursed and forced himself to listen as they addressed concerns and questions from chief knights and officials.

"Listen and take note because I don't have time to repeat," he grumbled. "The King will give a royal address through his Scribery, so wait for it. In the meantime, summon all swords, double the guards on the walls, the borders, and royal grounds and territories. Deny any entrance and exits of the borders under penalty of imprisonment. I want guards on every entrance into the palace. Inform me of any discrepancies. If anything else arises, gentlemen, you will hear from me or the King."

"Yes Commander," the teen messengers said and ran off to the Messengry. Unanswered questions lingered on their faces, but they dared to press the Commander.

"Vamon?"

"I'm here," his squire said as they entered the palace.

"Summon Joelis-,"

"Master Joelis? He's probably on his way already," the fifteen-year-old scolded and Eron did so too. If there was a list of the most hated men in the palace, Joelis would be first, and he'd be second.

"When he does arrive-,"

"You'll be the first to hear," Vamon said.

"Everything I told the messengers -,"

"Was for me too. Yep, I know how you work. So Eron what did the King say about what happened?"

Eron took a winding stairway to the second floor and entered the west wing.

"A lot. And you will hear it when it's released."

"Naw, I guess I'll hear it firsthand from the Royal Scribes. Anything else, Commander?"

"Find me when you're finished," Eron said always appreciating the young man's swift thinking and taking the time to learn how he worked.

"I will, but first, Eron," he said grabbing onto his armored arm and stopping him in his tracts.

"What is it Vamon?"

"You look sick," he said narrowing his eyes and studying his face.

Eron's gut churned, and his nerves rattled to the core with annoyance. He growled and gave him a dangerous glare.

"I'm fine, now go and do your job."

Vamon wasn't convinced and like Tarkel and Malana he'd grown accustomed to his quick-tempered demeanor. Eron studied the boy four heads shorter than he. Lingering behind in puberty, the thin squire had proved himself well in the Academy. Top on the list of every agility course, the young lad even decided to take up Scribery and administration. Eron realized he barely saw his squire until strongly necessary. And when they were together the boy treated him more like an older brother than the master he should fear. Yet somehow it never bothered him.

"Mmhm," Vamon said. "I'll send hot tea and peanut buttered crackers to your office."

"Great," Eron grumbled with annoyance.

"That is if I can find one of these useless slaves," he said glancing around.

"Do that and inform me if anything arises. I will do my round after I change into more comfortable attire."

"Very well," Vamon said and dashed off to Eron's relief.

He took a minute to take a breather, feeling his pores spew out globes of sweat beneath his uniform. Bile stung from his throat, tainting his tongue with a hot iron taste. He pulled out his handkerchief and spat blood. The scorching hot shiver returned, and his muscles stretched, screaming for the first time in his life to plunge into an icy cold bath.

Glancing to make sure no one was watching, he stuffed away the bloody handkerchief and almost ran back to his quarters. But his need to scream and to panic went on hold again as he turned onto his hall and ran into guards and soldiers. They were in a deep whispering conversation, most likely on the night's events, with his door patrollers. When seeing him, they erected into proper stance and scurried out the way.

"Commander, what on the gods' thrones happened at the Temple?" one said.

"Enough to make me speechless," he said.

"You don't look so good," he heard Andisan say.

He entered his chambers and wiped away the sweat along his forehead with his sleeve. Tarkel stood from the sofa, fidgety.

"Eron-,"

"Please do not ask me if I'm okay," Eron ordered, and the man hushed up. "Take this damn thing off of me."

He stormed into his bedroom already stripping off the sword, his boots, and unbuttoning various buttons. Tarkel followed and went straight into assisting. Eron growled and plopped on the bed. The servant placed the back of his hand to his sweaty forehead startling Eron.

"Great gods above, you are burning up," Tarkel said. "But not in a good way."

"I know," he grumbled and fell into another shiver. Tarkel retrieved a hand towel and dipped it into a basin of water and pressed it to Eron's head. It took him a minute to gather himself to say what was wrong but stating it would mean it was possibly true.

"It's gone," he said.

"What is gone?"

Eron swallowed another sting of blood and cleared his throat. "My sooth. It's gone."

Tarkel's jaw dropped. "What do you mean your sooth is gone?"

"I can't feel it anymore. Since that Purple Thief died and swept us off our feet with that wind, I felt it leave me."

"No that was magic. I felt it," Tarkel said. "Very strong holy magic. I felt it too."

A weary smile crossed his face and his eyes flooded with water. Eron gasped. "Let me guess, you are healed."

The older man sniffled and bopped his head.

"I didn't want to tell you, but-,"

"That is great to hear," Eron said, wanting to yell in frustration.

"I've overheard many of the slaves declaring the same thing," Tarkel said. When Eron found he couldn't respond to that statement the servant continued. "Don't worry too much. You were born a soother, meaning you will always have your fire gift. Perhaps it's turned off."

"But for how long?"

"I don't know, Ser," he said.

"Tarkel, do you think the gods are punishing me?"

"For what?"

"Wanting her dead?" he said. "They healed everyone but took away what I cherish the most."

"I don't know. Perhaps you were cherishing the wrong thing."

Eron gazed up at the old man confused and speechless.

"Why did you want her to die in the first place?" Tarkel said.

"She defied the Law and disrespected the Crown," Eron said, almost like a trained brainwashed soldier. Even after the last word left his tongue, he grimaced.

"I thought that's the goal of your secret plans," he said.

"It is... so-,"

"The girl thought she was doing what was right and you think you're doing what is right," Tarkel said. "Right?"

Eron scrunched his nose hating when the old man wiggled his way into providing wise words. And now that he was fully healed, and possibly had elf blood, his lifespan most likely had tripled tonight. He pondered what he was hinting and recalled Mageia's innuendos to become alliances.

"I am only saying," Tarkel sighed. "Perhaps you need to rethink your priorities."

"I don't want anything to do with Mageia," Eron grumbled untying his shoulder pad with unnecessary force.

"That's quite strange," he said with amusement.

"What's quite strange Tarkel?" Eron said growing annoyed.

"I've never heard you say the girl's name before," he said.

Eron glanced up at the old man, noticing how he smirked as he walked away to the basin. He felt his tongue tingle and his shivering body lose another ounce of energy. He was right.

Eron pondered Tarkel's wise words and random observation. He recalled the image of the thundering sky crackling alive and changing to purple. How the moon shined gloriously on the purple flame engulfing Mageia. No, the Purple Thief. He scolded but tried not to reveal his thoughts to the smart manservant.

He had to admit. What he witnessed was amazing. The beautiful girl had literally blown him off his feet. Yes, she was utterly annoying, especially the first time they met. But he had to consider the fact that his approach and first impression was not all that welcoming. Still, she disrespected him, belittled him and his title.

What was going on in that infirmary?

Was she okay? He gave an inner scold. Why do I care?

If she was a Fairest promised by Hamino and prophesied by the Vanished King, that meant she was powerful. More powerful than the woman he was in love with. Yet, his lover did request for her body after the sacrifice. She knew the Annual Fair Ceremony required sacrifice by fire, meaning the girl's body would've been charred to ashes.

She must've known this was going to happen.

Why didn't she tell me how powerful this girl was?

Many theories popped into his head which he shook away because above all he loved this woman. He would die for his beloved Queen.

Tarkel removed his ceremonial armor with his help of course, and noticed the man was in his own world too. Smiling ear to ear and moving with great speed and precision. He was indeed healed. Not brittle and slow anymore. And Mageia – no that girl - did that. Eron then realized he'd never seen magic working at its fullest since the last time he seen his lover. And even then, she did not match what happened tonight.

Body aching with sharp pains invading his joints, he put on his normal everyday attire. Lighter and flexible with less armor and thicker mesh and leather. He still appeared professional and powerful as usual, but his body and his throbbing head was going haywire. He plopped back onto the bed wishing he could crawl into the comforter and sheets, but he's been away from his duties longer than required.

He gulped three glasses of cherry wine and nibbled a stiff muffin only to vomit everything a few minutes later. When he exited the washroom wiping his face with a cold wet cloth, he growled.

"Oh! You look like Dawnis took a shit on you," Sii laughed.

"Master Sii, please," Tarkel said in a father's disapproving tongue.

"Okay, snow man, I apologize, but you do look like crap."

"I know, for gods' sakes," Eron bellowed only to break into a nasty cough. Iron spewed into his mouth, and he went to spit the bloody bile into a bowl.

Tarkel grimaced and quickly removed the bowl, taking it into the washroom.

"Damn. It's like you're melting from the inside out. Get it?" Sii grinned his blue eyes shinier than usual.

Eron cut him a dangerous glare and went to sit back on the bed. His legs ached so badly, and unconsciously he began to massage them.

"So, what happened on the Altar? Why is the bloody sky still purple? It's making me bubbly inside for some reason. And look, it's brought us here twice within 24 hours, I must say, we must do this more often."

"Do you still have your power?"

"Yes. Why?" he said cocking his head to the side like a crazed peacock.

Eron grunted away his response. "Did I ever tell you how much I want to burn out your tongue?"

"Too many times to count, Master."

"Ugh. What is it do you want Sii?" Eron said.

"First with the bad news. The slave Hasana is nowhere to be found on royal grounds."

"Then she must've returned to her home in Strana."

"Then we shall go, find her, and bring her back."

"No," Eron said with a dark glare. "Let her panic and run. Tonight, is her lucky night."

"Amongst many others," Sii said.

"Now the good news?"

The soldier dug into a pocket and revealed a tiny scroll from his lover. Eron's pain, his anger, and frustration almost washed entirely away as he snatched it from his fingers. Tarkel exited with a basin and a fresh cloth and approached wearily.

My love. I had hoped for what was to come this night. Let us meet at the Base any time before the sunrise. Bring me what I've requested and be greatly rewarded. I will be waiting. I love you.

"Well? What does it say, you flame of love?"

"Oh, shut up Sii," he said but couldn't fix the smile on his face.

Of course, she knew this would happen.

"She wants to see you I bet," Sii said studying his face.

"She does."

"It's been a year, right?"

"I think so, Sii," he frowned, wanting to know if he found a way to see her since. If he had, the bastard wouldn't tell him. Just because she assigned Sii under his authority, his dark loyalty still bounded him to his beloved.

"Well, I have one more good news for you," he said.

"So far, you all have proven yourselves worthy and loyal. She will be pleased to hear of this."

"I know," Sii said with a slight shake, but Eron could sense he was putting on a show.

Why is it do everyone think I am a fool?

"But allow me to add more to this praise," Sii said. "I set two of our men on the investigation of how the Purple Thief and her vags managed to free those children. And guess what, they found a break that could potentially lead to their hidden location."

"And what is it?"

The soldier revealed a folded parchment and showed its contents. An image had been drawn in the center of it.

"A sigil, Eron," he said then continued seeing the questions in his eyes, "carved into the side ends of the two planks they used."

Eron took the parchment to look closer. The sigil was an image of a saw within a circle. "So, who carved the wood?"

"We don't know yet. But it will take a day or so to find out."

"Hm," he said falling deep into thought. "No. Hold that for now. I need you and the others right now. We must honor the wishes of our Queen."

"Oh. You mean bringing her the body?"

"Yes. Any time before sunrise, we shall be reunited."

"And I can finally be free of this body," Sii said with a maniac's smile. His blue eyes slowly charred black as the bottom of a pit.

Eron felt extra nauseated, not because the man's dark obsession had been suppressed all year, but because after what happened, he still had his power. Maybe he was far away from the Altar... perhaps outside of Ardania meeting with her.

"Yes. Then you can finally be free," Eron said curling his upper lip.

Sii's eyes returned to normal and he passed Tarkel a childish smile that flushed the color from the man's face.

A knock on the door interrupted and before Eron could say 'Enter', Vamon entered, face cherry red in distraught and alarm.

"Let me guess, Joelis is here."

"No, Ser," he said almost out of breath. "Reports are coming in from everywhere."

"Of what?" Eron said feeling the tingle of the scorching shiver rising to his chest.

"Riots. Riots are brewing all over the kingdom."

"No," Sii gasped, hand theatrically pressed to his heart, apparently enjoying the news.

"What do you mean all over?"

"The Runes. Some in Midlaan, Strana, and gods above the Borderlaans," Vamon said. "The last thing we need is this spreading into Hiilan."

"Damn it," Eron said rising to his feet. He gestured for Tarkel who already was heading for his cloak.

"What should I relay, Ser?"

"I don't want a bloodbath, at least not yet. All arms to the line and arrest anyone rioting. I'll be at that Command Fort in fifteen minutes."

"Yes Ser," he said and dashed off, leaving the door open.

"So, I guess we set aside our mission until later," Sii said.

"No. I need you to figure out a plan and get that girl to the Nest," he said. "Inform me as soon as you have her. I have a kingdom that's just lost its mind."

"But you're so ill," Tarkel said, bringing him a glass of water.

"Find me something to take. I'll be fine."

Sii gave a deep cold laugh that almost made Eron regret the given task. "Oh, Master, your situation may just work in our favor."