While prior to the incursions, Wolf minded a pregnant woman and played with his newborn daughter, Wayde handled a financial disaster his predecessor left. His uncle wasted an ungodly sum of money on security to ensure his safety from Silverhound’s invasion. He got into debt to preserve his life, yet died a dog’s death.

Despite his abysmal situation, Wayde had a guiding light. He followed the treatises on rulership to the letter. On the first day of his reign, in full view of the public, Wayde hanged the deceased Duke’s male descendants under the guise of high treason and kin-slaying. As for the women, Wayde’s sadistic streak flared. He left them alive, and they experienced the same humiliation his mother did when she begged and scraped by a living for her and Wayde.

In all honesty, Wayde wanted them hanged, but executing women would sink his reputation. Having the world believe they killed themselves in grief was better for everyone’s honor, especially the old duchess’s.

That’s how Wayde spent his first day of rule. He had a country and a city to rebuild, but this time he lacked funds he extorted from Duke Silverhound. Wayde followed the law, publicly requisitioning the properties of those who backstabbed his grandfather, while unofficially borrowing obscene sums from Wolf and Edwin Didot.

Wayde did everything by the book. He didn’t touch the property of neutral or loyalist factions, and after his first week on the throne, he declared the end of trials pertaining to the crimes against his ancestors.

The Duke held a grand gala, rewarding loyalists, and with a straight face expressed his thanks to the fence-sitters. Wayde’s decisive, lawful actions bought him peace and the nobles’ respect. He spent two years consolidating his rule, revitalizing trade and agriculture, yet his efforts went up in smoke. After two years of struggle, the Demon Incursion which struck Northshield was unprecedented in human history.

Wayde sat in the war-room. His eye twitched. He received the report of Lord of Vine’s passing minutes after the True-Namer exploded into gore. “Everyone, please leave. I have something confidential to confirm with Headmaster Whitford.”

The worried nobles glanced at each other before leaving the room with heavy expressions.

“Fuck!” Wayde slammed his fist against the table as soon as the door closed.

“That idiot! Why the fuck didn’t he run?” Wayde screamed at the empty room, wondering what he had done wrong in this life for endless misfortune to assail him. “Didn’t he know we can’t waste True-Namers? Fuck! FUCK!”

Wayde repeatedly struck the map with his bruised hands. Suddenly, he stopped, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled.

Will I have to call Him to help? Again? “No, no.” Wayde shook his head, while straightening the vellum map he misplaced in his fit.

Wayde sighed, his lip trembled, his throat was tight, and he wanted to cry.

“Yes. Yes I will.” He spat the words out. “I have no choice.”

He took out a Far Voice from his Ring of Holding.

“Good day, Lord Headmaster. I apologize, I was in the middle of a meeting and I couldn’t answer your Commune before the spell ended.” Wayde lied the way Headmaster Smith taught Wolf. Unlike Wolf, who needed teaching, Wayde was a natural. “If you don’t mind, could you please have someone trustworthy contact Duke Smith and Marquess Hillman and notify them I’m begging for assistance? Please.”

Wayde didn’t mind begging, as long as a limited number of people knew the truth.

Michael Whitford remained silent for a moment. “I can do that. But we requested reinforcements before the incursion began and they gave us a cold shoulder.”

Wayde knew this, but he also knew a magic word. “Tell them that unfortunately we have lost two True-Namers early and that we need someone of equal or greater power to resolve the issue. Also, tell let them I’m going to Adamantfort in person.”

“Your Honor, at least go to Clearwood. The city is much safer and has sturdy walls. I’ll have someone fly you there.” Headmaster Whitford was worried about Wayde’s mental health.

Wayde was Northshield line’s last scion. If he died during normal times, ending his bloodline, so be it. Rise and fall of dynasties happened. But in the middle of an incursion, people needed a figure to rally them and maintain illusory safety to prevent public unrest.

Wayde hesitated.

“Fine.” He consented. “But ask Wolf to Commune me when he’s near Adamantfort. I’ll ride out to meet him and we can clear the danger together. Or we could make other arrangements.”

Wayde had to gamble, to show a hard stance and to let Headmaster Smith know he wouldn’t relent. Otherwise, he feared the old fox wouldn’t send Wolf.

Headmaster Whitford understood Wayde’s determination. He approved and disapproved at the same time. Blackmailing Headmaster Smith came with consequences, but for the time being the safety of their duchy took precedence.

“Thank you, Your Honor. I will have someone inform Marquess Hillman and Duke Smith.” Headmaster Whitford paused, running a list of staff to find someone available to escort Duke Northshield. “In less than three hours you should expect an Archmage to escort you and assume the role of Clearwood’s commander and chief.”

***

Headmaster Smith smirked after replying to the Commune he received. He expected Wayde’s blackmail. The situation in Northshield was abysmal. In four short months, three True-Namers died.

I guess someone has to pay the price for the good fortune Silverhound and Highseat are enjoying. He was uneasy about dispatching Wolf, not because the little monster’s safety worried him, rather he fretted about Thonburi holds and Matilda’s rage.

Headmaster Smith gave Michael five minutes to inform Wolf of this change, then sent him a Commune, officially allowing him to leave his post for ten days.

***

Three days later, Wolf and Wayde met up at Clearwood.

“Wayde!” Wolf gave his friend a bear hug as soon as he materialized. He slapped the Duke’s back and laughed. “You practiced diligently, you’re already a Third Order Sword-Sage.”

Wayde smiled, but didn’t meet Wolf’s gaze. “Sorry to bother you. I know you have your own problems.”

“I didn’t see a single Demon since the incursion started.” Wolf snorted, then looked around, taking in the surrounding snow piles. “I missed proper snow.”

“We can ship you some.” Wayde forced a laugh. “I saw more snow this week than I did in my eighteen years in Silverhound.”

Wolf nodded. Silverhound never had proper snow. The cover never reached half a meter.

He cleared his throat, then returned to the business at hand. “What’s the status? I got a Commune that Adamantfort’s Mage in charge evacuated everyone within two hours of the incident.”

“The Mage and his troops arrived first, beating the path for civilians.” Wayde explained in a nice, roundabout way that soldiers followed orders and fled first, conserving the duchy’s fighting force. “As you probably noticed on your way over, several thousand refugees are inbound and there were no Demon sightings near Clearwood. We have enough food and shelter, so people won’t starve or freeze, but they lost most of their property.”

Wolf nodded. Cattle from outlying farms would be slaughtered when Demons arrived. Common animals didn’t produce the aura of hatred, but Demons still needed food. It was well-known that after completing their slaughter, Demons pillaged settlements, taking any valuables, sometimes even salvaging building materials.

“Knowing their habits, Demons are either ransacking Adamantfort or heading our way.” Wolf scratched his nose while plotting his next steps.

“We can go together, but you should follow certain rules for safety’s sake,” he whispered, making sure Wayde’s subordinates couldn’t catch his words.

The Duke nodded. “If you’re ready, we can head out now. Would you prefer Fly or should we use a sled? Marquess Bradbury has a pair of Ice-Elks. We can make it in three to four hours with Ice-Elks.”

It’s not a bad idea. I can leave Wayde behind if I detect Demons.

“Sure,” Wolf agreed. “We can use the sled.”

Ten minutes later, Wolf and Wayde left towards Adamantfort.

“If you don’t mind, I have some demands,” Wolf said when they left the soldiers’ earshot.

“Go ahead?” Wayde turned to face Wolf, slightly tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“For your safety, once I sense Demons we will stop the sled and you will stay inside. I will handle them and return,” Wolf said, deep down, feeling happy because of Wayde’s tiny movement. “You must keep your senses dormant. You can pick up Demons from a bit further away if you awaken them, and that could drive you into a suicidal frenzy…”

The plan was a typical Wolf plan. I will handle everything. You guys sit back and stay safe. However, the way he presented it had radically improved over the years, and Wayde caught glimpses of Mandy’s coaching. Wolf paused thrice, each time giving himself exactly enough time to count to five.

Wayde didn’t argue. He didn’t even feel offended. A True-Namer died approaching this rift, meaning a Fifth Order Mage like him stood no chance of returning alive if he got drawn into a melee.

While they rode the closed sled, Wolf noticed two groups of soldiers aiding the tired refugees. One was five kilometers from the city walls, the other fifteen kilometers away.

The further group was smaller. They only helped people who seemed unwell, but otherwise guarded a tall pile of wood, which they used as a viewing platform for three scouts. In case they sighted a Demon horde, they would light the pyre and flee towards the city, hoping they could escape the frenzy.