Argrave gazed up at the pitch-black regalia. The set was enchanting enough to make him forget what Galamon had done not moments ago. The fact that a stand had been made to accommodate all its pieces hinted at the true value of it all. There was a spot for a scepter, bracelets, gloves, a ring, a ceremonial sword… much of that was gone, however, having been sold of centuries ago to sustain Rancor in times of poor management. The primary pieces remaining were the royal mantle and the crown.

The royal mantle was an ostentatious thing. The collar was black ermine, and even from here the fur appeared soft. The cloak proper was made of a flowing black silk, a snake of gold emblazoned on the back. It was giant, accommodated for someone of a similar height to Argrave.

The crown, though… its central band was a black metal, though it was concealed by gold at many points. Gold encircled each studded jewel—diamonds of various colors, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds all pushed its frame to the brink. Some of the jewels were the size of chicken eggs. Though this vault was filled with riches, they all paled before this single crown.

Argrave reached forward and took the crown. Everyone watched him, waiting to see what he would do. It made him far too self-conscious to genuinely put it on. He pulled off the mantle, too, putting it beneath the crook of his arm. When Argrave turned, Durran stared at him disappointedly.

“What?” Argrave frowned.

“Coward,” Durran declared, then shook his head and turned around.

Argrave felt insulted. His mind whirled for a comeback, and then he reached out and put the crown over Durran’s wyvern-scale helmet. The tribal jumped, and Argrave ensured the crown didn’t fall off his head.

“Hold that. You break it, you’re paying for it,” Argrave decided, then turned back to Galamon. “You alright, Galamon?” Argrave asked loudly, so that Elenore’s men who’d seen the scene could hear him clearly. “That knife—it possesses people. Probably turned those vampires crazy. I know how to handle it, don’t worry.”

Galamon’s head turned to him. Some redness remained in his eyes, yet they were fading back to white quickly. He gave a curt nod. “I’m… fine.”

Argrave grabbed beneath Galamon’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this place. The cleaners can do the rest. Here, have a drink.” He pulled free the flask at Galamon’s side and handed it to him.

Galamon took the flask and stared at it for a moment before drinking it like it was some foul swill. Once done, he closed his eyes, gathering himself. He stood straight once again.

“I’m fine,” Galamon repeated. This time, Argrave believed him a little.

#####

Argrave and his companions headed back to where Elenore was waiting, leaving her people to clean things up. He felt he’d demonstrated his prowess sufficiently. Durran walked with the crown in his hands, holding it gingerly and walking slowly like it was fragile glass.

Before they reached outside, Argrave stopped, looking around. He nodded towards Anneliese, and she conjured a ward for them to speak privately.

“Alright. That knife you held—I’m sure you curious about it,” he said to Galamon.

“You said that would happen. I tried to be ready… but it was stronger,” the elven vampire shook his head. “I apologize.”

“Don’t,” Argrave waved his hands. “This knife… a vampiric relic. Althazar, it’s called. It…” Argrave shook his head. “It partially actualizes the vampiric ‘beast’ you describe. Even being near it frenzied you somewhat. If you stab yourself in the chest… some of the dormant powers of your vampiricy awaken. Every ability you already have will be enhanced greatly—regeneration, strength, senses… and the side effects, too. They’re enhanced.”

Galamon lowered his head, eyes growing distant. “They were.”

“These vampiric relics were meant to enhance you as a vampire. They’re generally intended for those who intend to lean into their powers, rely on them more.” Argrave tapped at his chest. “Considering how much you hate that aspect of yourself, perhaps it’s best I hold onto it.”

“It’s useless. No, it’s worse than useless—it’s harmful. I’ve spent years reining this side of myself in…” The elven vampire lifted his eyes back to Argrave. “How will this cure me?”

Argrave stared back despite Galamon’s intensity, knowing his companion would not harm him. “This relic, in combination with others, can fully actualize the beast you have. If it’s made real, it’s somewhat separate from you. And if it’s separate, we can kill it without killing you. You’ll be cured—freed of the beast forever, made mortal once again. These relics will be rendered impotent. And… well, a bunch of other stuff will happen,” Argrave waved his hand, feeling now was not the time.

“I don’t like it,” Galamon growled.

Argrave frowned. “Well, it’s… I mean, there are other… what? Why?” Argrave asked, puzzled.

“No, not…” Galamon sighed. “Not your proposition. The knife. I dislike its mastery over me.”

Touching his chest where the knife rested, Argrave said, “I’ll keep Althazar hidden, fret not.”

“No. In time… at another date, I hope to train myself to resist it. I cannot afford to act as I did,” Galamon said determinedly.

Argrave looked to Anneliese for guidance, but she seemed just as undecided as he did. He looked back and said, “I hope you won’t be offended if I say I need to think about that.”

It did look like a difficult pill for Galamon to swallow. He stared back, then eventually sighed, seeming more disappointed in himself than anything. “You’re right.”

“Let’s get going. I don’t want to hold this million-gold exhibit any longer,” said Durran tensely.

Argrave looked back. He reached down and took the crown from his hands, then left behind the word, “Coward.”

#####

Argrave emerged from the catacombs a second time, some of the fatigue of the battle finally settling in. He had taken the lead role in most of this, largely by his own design. If Elenore had an adequate grasp of his abilities, she would be able to manipulate things in their favor better. He would need her to be at her best, and people functioned at their best when they had as much information at their disposal as possible.

Elenore waited not as nervous as she had been the last time—their departure had taken some time, and Argrave supposed news had already reached her of what had occurred within. Flanked by his companions, he stepped up before her.

“We went through, cleared them out,” Argrave reported. “They hid in a vault, but we managed to get them out without incident. Not sure how many casualties, but… not many. Not on our side, at least.” Argrave held the crown up a little higher. “Got a crown, a royal mantle. You might see how these items help bolster our cause.”

Elenore crossed her arms and nodded. “Of course I do.” She tapped her foot against the ground, then suggested, “Let us take a walk.”

“Sure,” Argrave raised a brow.

Elenore held out her arm, and Argrave took it. They started to walk away. Elenore was leaning on him quite heavily, and explained in a whisper, “These prosthetics are digging into my legs. I apologize, but it’s difficult to stand. I cannot be seen to be so weak before my people.”

“Don’t apologize,” Argrave assured quietly. “Happy to help. Maybe I can carry you.”

“Those rumors… I thought they were exaggerations,” Elenore proceeded, changing the subject to hide her embarrassment at the notion. “Most firsthand testimonies came from peasants in Kin’s End, or a defeated royal knight. Both had reason to talk up your power. Yet… none of it was lies. A legion of ghostly snakes… what sort of power is that?”

“Just magic,” Argrave explained, adjusting his arm to better support Elenore. “I have a blessing from a god. Erlenbis,” Argrave told her readily. “Got it in a trade. Knowledge for power. Power for power, some might say. For five minutes… I can tap into a god’s magic power. After, I repay a debt of magic.”

“I see…” muttered Elenore in awe. “It is… as I recall, Erlebnis is an ancient god of knowledge. That is certainly an interesting arrangement. And considering your origin, it makes sense why he might wish to do such a thing…” she paused. “Should you be telling me this?”

“It’s best you know. You’re part of my inner circle, now. The people I trust most,” Argrave said while looking ahead.

Durran scoffed. “Good deal you got. I had to lose a few fingers for him to accept me.”

“I…” Elenore trailed off, then sighed. “I am glad this happened.”

“Me too,” Argrave agreed.

“Let us discuss Vasquer,” Elenore changed the subject. “I have been speaking to her, and I believe she may be able to aid us in removing the bindings… it will take time, much time, but she may be freed. I had hoped to—”

Shouts echoed across the vast stone chamber housing Vasquer, and Elenore’s fingers dug into his arm in alarm. He heard someone swear, “It’s important! It’s important!” and though people tried to stop someone in the distance, he broke past them.

Ruleo rushed out into the big stone chamber, pursued by a few people. Spotting Elenore, he sprinted over. Galamon stepped ahead of Argrave.

“He’s bleeding,” the elven vampire noted, his stoic nature returned. “Badly.”

“Who is it?” Elenore questioned.

“Ruleo,” Argrave said, voice tight.

“Gods be damned… he was meant to be keeping an eye on things in the palace.” Elenore released her grip on Argrave. “You may have time enough to return to the catacombs… I’ll try and—”

“Elenore!” Ruleo shouted. “The king!”

Hearing his words, Argrave was not so eager to slink away. Argrave still wore the solemn white Humorless Mask, but his height and hair alone were enough to guess who he might be. Argrave pulled his duster’s hood a little lower and decided to remain. He used Galamon to hide himself somewhat and decided to listen.

“You were meant to be watching the palace,” Elenore said coldly, stepping away from Argrave.

Ruleo came to a stop, his breathing heavy. “Gods be damned… why else would I be here? Barely got away alive.”

Elenore crossed her arms, adapting her callous persona of the Bat. “Speak. What occurred?”

“The mole you had us looking for. Levin’s talking to the king… and he brought that little orange-haired maid you had me rescue.”

“Therese?” Elenore said in surprise. “That’s impossible. She was… she was sent thousands of miles away. She had guards, even, and many of my people near her.”

“I saw her with my own eyes, damn it all,” Ruleo cursed, then leaned against the wall, cackling. “Your men were caught in a net. Levin initiated a purge, wiped them all out. I barely got out alive.”

Elenore’s men finally caught up with Levin, yet the princess stopped them from apprehending him. “You’re certain it was Therese? Absolutely certain?”

“Positive. She looked… worse than before. Not that you’d care,” Ruleo slumped against the wall, gaze finally wandering. “Looks like Levin is telling the whole story. Seemed to leave out that you were the Bat, but he’s told Felipe that the Bat is here… and told him about that big damn snake, too.”

“That…!” Elenore bit her lip. “He’s going to destroy himself. I have evidence that’ll make Felipe execute him, take away everything that he values. What the hell is that fool…!” she started, then paused. “What’s going to happen?”

“This is just a second-hand report…” Ruleo began hesitantly, clutching at his wounded leg and healing it with magic. “But Felipe knows about Vasquer, so it makes sense. Sounds like the king is coming personally with the bulk of the royal guard.”

“Therese couldn’t know about Vasquer...” Elenore paused. “No. Pointless thoughts,” she stepped away, head clenched in thought. “That meagre assault in Rancor, that pointless attempt to expose me with a royal messenger… distraction. Distraction and misdirection, stalling for time…”

Ruleo let out a sigh of relief as the bleeding stopped. His gaze wandered… and fell upon Argrave. His white eyes changed quickly, and he slowly stood up.

“Well,” said Ruleo. “Hello there.”

Ruleo stalked up to their party. Though Argrave had some plans for how he might handle confronting Ruleo, he felt it was best to see how things would play out. Given the situation, it was difficult to predict.

“Nice eyes, masked man.” Ruleo turned his head to Elenore. “Seen them before plenty of times in Order of the Rose ruins. Some of my little necromantic friends I made have them, too.” He shook his head. “Rumors started spreading that Induen’s corpse got eaten by ants and couldn’t be displayed… these rumors spread fast, too. Inorganically. Wonder why that might be.” Ruleo rolled his shoulders. “Where might Induen’s body have gone?”

“Ruleo, you—” Elenore stepped forth.

“No, don’t bother,” Ruleo held up his hands and walked away. “I see snow elves, too. Big mystery, ooh,” he shook his hands. “Who the hell that is, who you’re working with—none of it matters anymore. I’m getting ten thousand miles away from this place. But I guess it makes sense. How else could Argrave have done so much without someone bigger backing him—someone like you?” He shot his thumb towards Argrave. “I don’t care if that’s Induen revived or some Argrave meat-puppet. I fought the damned royal guard in the palace—I’m a top-priority wanted criminal now. Whole thing’s falling apart.”

Ruleo walked backwards as he talked, arms spread out. “So forget you, forget this. You didn’t kill me for spying on you, and so I came back here to tell you Felipe is coming. As far as I’m concerned, that settles things; we won’t have anything to do with each other in the future. I’m leaving. Given that you have time, I suggest you do the same. This information empire of yours—its capital is about to be razed. Twenty minutes, maybe less. All in all…”

Ruleo pointed both his index fingers at Elenore. “It’s over for you.”