Argrave walked down cold stone stairs slowly, his big feet forcing him to take the steps slowly lest he fall. He very nearly bumped into Melanie at the bottom. She stood holding an iron gate. Argrave entered, ducking beneath the low-hanging iron bars and entering into the dungeons of Castle Cookpot. Anneliese followed just behind.

The cells had been cleared out a great deal in the past few days on account of their fearmongering efforts in Atrus and beyond. Ruleo’s cell was close, likely so that the guards could keep a close eye on him. Argrave waited for her to fit the key in and unlock it, then looked back as his royal guard spread out across the room.

“Where’s Gala—” Argrave trailed off when he saw the big snow elf rush down the stairs, rejoining them. “What’s wrong?” he asked him.

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” the Veidimen dismissed. When Argrave stared and waited for more information, he elaborated, “Something was broken. No one else seemed to be trying to fix it, so I spoke to someone.”

Argrave shrugged dismissively, then looked to the cell ahead. Opposite him, in the corner of the cell…

#####

Ruleo leaned his body forward against his chains, using them to support his weight. It tugged at his body, but compared to the stake driven through both of his hands, the pressure was nonexistent. The sound of many footfalls made him lift his head up. He saw his keeper, Melanie, holding a torchlight. There was someone huge at the cell door, though. Ruleo focused his failing eyes.

“Good lord…” the man said, stepping within. The shadows changed, and Ruleo’s eyes widened as he recognized Argrave. “Trying times for you, looks like.”

“Heh…” Ruleo managed a laugh as some of the vigor he thought would never return flared. “Got the guts… to talk to me? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Argrave fell to one knee. “It’s taking more guts to smell you than talk to you. I think your hands are infected.”

Ruleo wanted to spit at him. Behind, someone else entered the cell—a vaguely familiar white-haired elf. She stood in the corner, watching.

“Durran told me you gathered necromantic things in an Order of the Rose ruin. That you intended to send them against us to combat Gerechtigkeit’s eventual advent, weaken his arrival,” Argrave began without ceremony.

Ruleo only stared with hate. “What do you want?”

The claimant king sighed. “Do you have any idea where Georgina might have gone after the defeat?” he asked.

“Hard to see through stone. Last I saw, most of her men fell to sword or spell. Might check underneath the corpses you made,” he suggested.

Argrave put one hand atop his knee and clenched. “Guess not. I had hoped having a couple days to think about the coming calamity might make you reasonable.”

Ruleo closed his eyes. “When people leave you in a cell for days to rot, you give up on the hope of a reasonable world.”

Argrave’s voice came quieter as he said, “If I’d known your hands were bound like this, I might’ve given this more priority.”

When Ruleo opened his eyes again, Melanie pointed at him from behind the king and said defensively, “I did nothing wrong, Your Majesty. See if you’re so merciful when he’s been trying to kill you for near half a week. The man is a dangerous spellcaster.”

Ruleo looked at Argrave squarely and asked, “Given we’re talking… is there a way out of this for me?” his voice carried some desperation, and he scolded himself inwardly.

Argrave looked back. “You sent thousands of creatures at Durran, Melanie, and my royal guard. You were planning for worse—having thousands of men pledged to my service slaughtered by unthinking monsters.”

“Cut off my hands, that path closes for me forever,” Ruleo said gravely. “In fact, that’s about the end of my career in everything. I’ll go live with my mother peacefully. You’ll never see me again.”

“I don’t think that would stop you,” Argrave stared with his cold gray eyes. “Fact of the matter is, I have a rather high regard for your resilience and capability.”

“Is this flattery supposed to raise my hopes for a royal pardon?” Ruleo narrowed his eyes, suspecting this was another of the sadist’s games the royal bastard so loved to play. “You’re toying with me, even now.”

Argrave rose up to his full height once again, looking back to the white-haired elf. She shook her head, and he seemed to make up his mind in that moment.

“…no. I can’t trust you to set aside the grudge you hold. I don’t want to kill you—you’ll be of great use when the sky starts to fall. At the same time, you tried to kill someone I love like a brother,” his tone grew low and cold.

Ruleo’s fear rose, yet he could only laugh in response—a wheezing, breathless whistle of exhalation from his lungs.

“But I’ve got a lot of people I could make use of, and a lot of opportunities that are being unrealized,” Argrave continued. “Me and my coterie alone can only travel to so many locations. There are ruins I’d love to visit, but can’t. And with people like you, Melanie, Ganbaatar, all at my fingertips… that’s a fine little team forming. A team I trust to keep you in line until they can catch you up to speed on the truth.”

Ruleo tried to lift his head to look the king in the eye but couldn’t. Where was this heading?

“Your situation is going to change. You’ll remain a prisoner, but under less… strenuous conditions,” Argrave said kindly. “And in time, you’ll be compelled to do certain things to the world’s benefit.”

“You’re enslaving me?” Ruleo lowered his head, his strength leaving him. “Given how well you regard my abilities… how, exactly, will you compel me to work on your behalf?” he challenged.

“If you want to die instead, talk to your manager,” Argrave said dryly. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by this outcome. Over time, you’ll come to see things my way… because you’re smart and I’m right.”

Ruleo stared up at Argrave’s smile, and felt it was markedly wickeder than he remembered.

#####

Durran stared at his bear’s closed jaw as it slept within this abandoned stable. He leaned up against its stomach, almost entirely buried in its thick fur. His face and body were covered in blood, and he wore a ratty shirt with his armor removed and placed off to the side. The man held a salamander in his hand and tore bits of it off, chewing it with a grimace on his face. Even now, with so much of its body missing, the thing still twitched. He sighed despairingly as he chewed.

“What in the world are you…? Oh,” someone said, and Durran whipped his head up to spot Elenore. “I see,” she raised her hand to her face, trying to hold back her laughter as she realized what she saw. “I’m interrupting your meal.”

The tribal rose to his feet quickly. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’d talk to Melanie and me in a few hours,” he said as he cleared his face with his sleeve.

“And I wouldn’t come personally if that had changed,” Elenore nodded, stepping in closer with her arms crossed. “Galamon said you were curious about my eyes.”

Durran stopped cleaning the blood from his face. “He told you that?”

“He did. I think he wants us to mend things,” she looked to the red crescent moon in the sky. “I don’t disagree with that. I… was rude to you, I think.”

Durran took a deep breath. He lifted up the salamander in his hand and pointed it at her. “And you made the right choice. Eating these things to fix my fingers is a mistake. You’d think I’d learn by now to imitate you. Just… fire… it’s hard for me.”

The princess shook her head. “That doesn’t matter.” She stepped closer. “So, can we set aside the stiff conversation?” she held out her hand for a shake.

Durran held out his hand, but then paused and pulled it back. “I’m a bit bloody. But yeah, I’m done pouting. So long as you realize that I said what I said because I don’t want you hurt. And not because you’re important to the team, but because you’re fun.”

“…why?” she asked quietly.

“Why? Because…” Durran looked for the words.

“Did you think that I’d be dense enough to ignore your teasing forever?” Elenore asked evenly, walking over to his bear.

Durran didn’t quite smile but came close. “Yes, honestly. I guess the ice in the shirt was pushing it a bit much.”

Elenore sighed, saying nothing.

“Honestly… didn’t want to push things,” Durran explained. “You’ve had your problems, to put it lightly. Maybe you’re disillusioned in the romance department. I got the distinct impression you weren’t interested in me, so I was thinking about pulling back before I ruined things forever. Was I wrong? Since it’s out in the open, give it to me straight.”

Elenore closed her eyes and searched for words. “Argrave being infatuated with Anneliese is a problem, but one that I’ve kept quiet about because I can handle the future fallback,” Elenore said, then turned to look at Durran. “If I’m tied up, it’s even worse. All will want marriage ties to the new king. I had intended to keep that as a constant card. Keep me unwed, unpromised, and chaste. I can utilize the promise of blood ties unimaginably well, I’m certain. It’s for the best.”

Durran lowered his head and smiled. “Well, that’s straight alright.”

“No, it isn’t,” she shook her head. “I don’t dislike you, Durran. The thing with my old fiancé… that was over a decade ago, and I’ve long ago moved on. I think part of the reason I told you to mind your own business was because I came to realize what… you wanted. I don’t think you can get it from me, though. A family, a happy life…”

Durran tilted his head. “I’m curious what the future you have envisioned for yourself is.”

Elenore was taken aback by the seeming non-sequitur. “Isn’t that set for the both of us?”

“I’ve got dreams for long after Gerechtigkeit,” Durran shrugged and walked closer. “Dreams for my homeland, myself, and the people close to me.”

“I don’t know. I suppose my answer would be whatever Argrave wants me to do,” she looked to the side. “If he wanted to tie me to him, he has—inextricably, at that. What he does, I do.”

“What a sad future,” Durran shook his head with a sigh. “A slave to that nutcase.”

“Maybe it is. But so long as I am bound to him, I won’t compromise on remaining unwed. It’s pivotal for stability,” she told him. “I don’t think you could stand by and wait for that to end. In eight years, I’ll be forty. I imagine things will be fine by then, but you’ll have moved on.”

Durran tilted his head, and his golden eyes gleamed. “You never know. Maybe I could wait. You’ve caused a problem for me, you see. Whenever I look at other women, I think about how they fall short of you.”

Elenore’s face flushed slightly, and she turned away from him. “You like thin, tall, and spindly women, do you? With my eyes returned, perhaps you’re simply going for the closest thing in appearance to Argrave,” she suggested.

Durran laughed loudly and stepped away. Elenore smiled at her own joke. The tribal laughed until he was breathless, stirring his bear from its slumber. It huffed noisily, then squirmed in annoyance.

“Well… alright,” Durran nodded as he winded down from his laughter. “I didn’t get the answer I wanted, but I feel relieved all the same. Our little talk has changed the direction I intend to take, somewhat.”

“In what way?” Elenore asked.

“Well… I think you’ll see,” Durran told her simply. “Stability, huh? You’ve given me an idea.”

Elenore crossed her arms in disapproval, then said in a business-like fashion, “Since we’re already together, let’s walk back to the castle and discuss some things about what you need to do in Atrus…”

#####

Argrave looked ahead, past the forests of Atrus to the long plains of central Vasquer. The blooming of spring showed itself in bright greens and golds. He clenched the reins of his mount tight, then looked back to his small army. Galamon had chosen the best of their infantrymen that knew how to ride—just short of a thousand—and Elenore had procured horses from Atrus. That, coupled with the bulk of the spellcasters from Quadreign, formed the core of an elite force vastly better than Argrave thought they’d manage. It might pale to Sumner’s army in count, but bloodshed was not the way Argave hoped to end this war.

Argrave held his hand up and pointed to central Vasquer… and Dirracha beyond it. “We ride!” he shouted.

And so they rode, leaving a great cloud of dust in their wake. Argrave, Galamon, Anneliese, Vasilisa, and Elenore all moved to put an end to things. Durran and Melanie watched them go, then turned back to the north.