Argrave fled from Kin’s End as fast as the horses would carry them. The scouting they did was less detailed than usual in their haste—it would be more important to make it to the Tower of the Gray Owl than it would be to dodge potential ambushes, and much of the area ahead was simply a vast plain that required no scouting.

But the tower was not so far, fortunately. As they grew nearer, it loomed over their head more and more, like a great gray rod planted in the ground by the gods. Even from a great distance, Argrave could see the sparking enchantments holding such a titanic piece of architecture upright, the magic grappling with both the fast winds at high altitudes and the great weight of the tower itself.

There were stables a fair distance away from the tower. Argrave and his companions moved their horses near them, the creatures panting with exhaustion. They had very nearly ridden them to death. Once there, Argrave dismounted, legs stiff and unwieldy after the breakneck ride.

“You there,” Argrave told a stable worker. “Take care of our horses. Just remember my face, give our horses back when we leave,” he said, handing the boy five gold coins. “Five more when we return,” he promised. He didn't know if they'd leave by horseback, though.

The boy nodded quickly, seemingly terrified of Argrave. With that, they removed their luggage from their spot atop the horses and left, heading to the entrance of the tower. Argrave felt an urge to sprint.

“Can they enter without badges?” asked Anneliese, referring to Galamon and Durran. “As I recall these places have magical restriction for those without them.”

“First couple floors have stupidly expensive temporary lodgings, yeah. Nobility study here—some of them bring servants, retinues of knights… the Order makes money by charging hefty rent,” Argrave nodded. “Beyond those first floors, no. The restriction will kick in.”

Once Argrave’s foot met the stone of the tower… he took a deep breath and exhaled. “Christ… we made it. Most terrifying horseback ride of my life. Or maybe it was the first one,” Argrave conceded.

“What now?” questioned Galamon, directing their attention back to the important matters.

“Now…” Argrave nodded, recalling what he had planned. “Now, we head to the fourth floor, get you two registered for temporary lodging, establish the purpose of our visit. From there… I don’t know how long we’ll stay. Ideally, it’ll be a very short time. Realistically, I’m not sure how easy Castro will be able to win over. If that fails, we might have to turn to another S-rank mage for aid, which would take… I don’t know,” Argrave shook his head, exhausted.

Already, people were staring at them from their eye-catching appearance alone. Once news of Induen’s death reached here, he was sure they’d be the center of attention. He’d probably be doing no favors for his reputation in the Order of the Gray Owl by blatantly abusing their policy of neutrality, but he didn’t especially care. He’d be paying them back for this favor in time.

“Let’s go, then,” Argrave nodded, steeling himself. He felt like a lion among sheep—he’d just killed a prince, and now he was preparing himself to have a pleasant conversation with a receptionist.

Yes as he walked, he noticed someone distinctly moving towards him. At first, his frayed nerves made him interpret the action in a negative light. As the person grew closer, however, his paranoia morphed into surprise.

Elias of House Parbon approached Argrave. Argrave stared at his waxpox-scarred eye in shock, yet the heir to the Margravate of House Parbon was smiling.

“And here I thought Stain would be wasting all of our time,” Elias said. “Argrave. I—” he paused. “Your eyes. My father told me about it, but I didn’t think that… I suppose seeing is believing.”

Argrave recovered from his shock quickly. “Yeah. It seems we both had some changes on that front. What the hell are you doing here?”

Elias’ finger brushed just beneath his eye. “Don’t worry about this. I made a mistake, that’s the bottom line.” He studied Argrave’s party. “Nikoletta and Mina are both here, as well.”

“What?” Argrave’s brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“We have to talk about the future,” Elias said plainly. “My father sent me here to talk to you. Nikoletta’s father, too. And Mina… it was a coincidence we met up at all.”

Argrave shifted on his feet and looked back to Anneliese. She nodded, confirming Elias’ sincerity. He crossed his arms and looked back to Elias. “I just recently had a talk about the future. It ended very poorly for the other party.”

Elias frowned, not catching Argrave’s meaning. “Is that a…?”

“No, just a stupid joke,” Argrave shook his head. “I mean… Christ, you caught me at a poor time.”

“We didn’t think to catch you at all,” Elias admitted. “Stain said he heard rumors you broke into the B-rank and predicted you might head to the Tower to seek advancement into a High Wizard.”

Argrave scratched the bottom of his chin, embarrassed he had been so easily predicted. At the same time, he thought of an opportunity. “By any chance… are you staying in a temporary lodging?”

“Yes,” Elias nodded, perplexed. “We have guards with us, so it was necessary. Why?”

Argrave smiled. “I’ll talk only if we can stay with you. The lodging is stupidly expensive.”

“As long as you answer us honestly, done,” Elias confirmed.

“You may regret that,” Argrave cautioned.

#####

Prince Levin strode through the vast greenery of Princess Elenore’s greenhouse, admiring the vibrancy of the garden. Or at least, so it seemed—though his face smiled, his eyes seemed almost bored.

As he wandered, he eventually made it into the central square, where a great fountain dominated the center. He stepped past small streams that flowed out of the water show, walking towards a pink metal table just beside it. Princess Elenore sat there, wearing green just as ever. She heard his steps and faced him as he walked.

“Hello, sister,” Levin greeted.

“Levin,” she returned passively.

Levin took a deep breath. “It always surprises me that you recognize my voice, considering how infrequently we speak.”

Elenore said nothing. Levin pulled back a chair and sat without asking.

“I take it you will not be attending Magnus’ funeral?” Levin began, setting his hands upon the table.

The fountain continued to babble and bugs in the greenhouse chirped as both of them let the silence hang.

“I cannot leave the greenhouse,” Elenore finally said.

Levin nodded. “Or so father decreed.”

She smiled pleasantly. “I imagine Magnus’ murderer will not be attending, as well.”

The prince laughed and smiled in kind. “Have you not heard? Orion killed his murderer. So he claims, anyway. Who am I to doubt him? I was not there. He died by strange magic foreign to Vasquer. But I will be going, if that’s what you were asking. I arranged the event, after all.”

He said that he arranged the event with such pride the phrase took on double meanings.

Elenore tilted her head, eyeless sockets seeming to gaze into Levin’s soul. “Magnus went to the wetlands to discover why the plague was spreading so fast in the south, you know.”

“And such a queer thing,” Levin said, leaning back in his chair. “Our selfish brother does something entirely selfless, for reasons I could not begin to guess.”

“If only he’d told someone what he’d discovered before he died,” Elenore mused. “That someone might inform me. And I might know.”

Levin smiled, but it was bitter. “If only.” He took a deep breath and sighed, then leaned in and placed his elbows on the pink table. “So many tragedies and near-tragedies to those close to you.”

“Are they not close to you?” Elenore raised a brow.

Levin shrugged. “Well, who can say. But I do wonder why my sister expends so much effort to bring Argrave and Induen closer.”

“Who can say,” she parroted.

Levin turned his head to the side, admiring the fountain as it poured. “It is simply vexing as to why you go to such lengths for a baseborn. So many cards used, favors called… maybe all the favors you’ve made, trapped here in this greenhouse.”

“Maybe,” she conceded.

“Something in the air tells me that I may be called upon for my funerary services sometime soon,” Levin pondered as he admired more of the greenhouse. “Orion was rather fond of Argrave. I’m sure he’ll be devastated by the news. He may do something foolish. How unfortunate.”

Elenore simply faced forward, remaining quiet. Levin turned his gaze to her missing eyes. He did not seem to be appalled in the slightest.

“A person is driven by needs and wants,” Levin posited. “Safety and succor are foremost among those needs. Men and women will do anything for both. Yet wants… they determine all else. Once safety is obtained, people dedicate all of their time to their desires. If you know what someone wants, you know how to make them move. People might seek empty pleasures. They might seek fulfillment.”

Elenore crossed her arms. “An interesting theory.”

Levin nodded. “I am wondering who might want Argrave dead.”

“You generally dispose of the bastards of the family,” Elenore pointed out.

“Well, I was quite young when Argrave was born,” Levin shook his head regretfully. “And Felipe forbid it when I was old enough to assume that duty, for reasons I cannot guess.”

“Yet you want to?” Elenore questioned.

“Not especially,” Levin said ponderously. “Not any more than anyone else, I suppose.”

“What do you want, Levin?” The princess finally asked outright.

Levin smiled—it seemed to be his first genuine smile. “Now that is the age-old question, hmm? If you knew what I wanted, you might be able to make me move, as you’ve made so many others. I’d be in your web. Or your… bat’s nest? I can’t think of a good metaphor for bats, tragically.” Levin leaned forth. “I’ll tell you what I want. I want to know what you want, dear sister.”

“Well, you’ll need to persuade me to tell you,” Elenore said casually.

“See? You get it. You know what I want, and now you’re trying to make me move as you wish,” Levin shook his head. “You were always bright. I question how someone as smart as you ended up blinded and crippled by father, locked up in this elaborate cage. Oh—but then, father didn’t do the deed personally, did he? A certain special someone did…” Levin’s smile was cruel enough to move people to tears.

Princess Elenore said nothing in response.

At her non-reaction, Levin looked sorely disappointed. He looked off to the side, then said, “By all rights, you’re the weakest in the family. Blind, no feet, no magic to your name, no swords at your side… yet sometimes I wonder if you’re more dangerous than me… than anyone.”

Elenore leaned back in her wheelchair. “Such a thing to say. You could kill me right now, brother.”

Levin leaned in. “I wonder,” he said, looking around. “I must be going now. We both have each other’s weakness, so things will continue on as they are for time eternal. I do wonder how long that eternity will last, though. Allegiances are changing like the weather, and the royal family dips in number day after day. Oh, provided Archduke Regene stays asleep, of course.”

Levin walked away quietly. Elenore’s eyeless sockets seemed to follow him, watching as he left.

“You are slower to hear than I am, it seems,” she whispered, half to herself. Her face had the slightest of smiles. “The jackal surprises once more… a legion of ghostly snakes… hmm.”