Argrave looked out across a room filled with torches. He walked to specific ones, passing others by, and lit them with simple spells. A bunch of his people watched what he was doing in confusion, but he carried on unconcerned. Finally, when he lit the torch in the top right…

The floor in the center of the room started to shift around, clicking and grinding into place as a stairway slowly took form. Argrave walked around it, joining everyone else while paying the strange contraption little mind.

“Orion?” Argrave said, holding out his hand. The prince slowly deposited a rolled-up sheet of paper in Argrave’s hand.

“How in the blazes do you know about this?” Melanie questioned, following Argrave as he walked in the room.

“There’s a partially destroyed journal in the second floor of the mayor’s house where he wrote about this top-secret entryway in extreme detail, in case adventurers like us came here and needed to access this place. Lesson number one: if you write a journal, you die. It’s simple statistics. Regardless, even with some of the journal missing, you can puzzle it…” Argrave began to explain, but trailed off when Melanie looked at him like he was mad. “Don’t worry about it. Just accept it.”

Argrave knelt down on the floor, then pointed to the stairs. “That, there, is a hidden entrance to the old dwarven cities.” He unraveled the piece of parchment Orion handed him on the floor. “This here’s a map of the city I had retrieved and recreated. This entrance emerges here,” he planted his gloved finger on the top right of the map, then traced it to another location. “You’re going to bring the Stonepetal Sentinels to this spot, here. That’s just below Blackgard. By then, that place will be accessible. It’s ten or so days away, given the diversions along the way.”

“This is some ask!” Melanie noted indignantly.

“You can do it,” Argrave looked at her plainly. “I trust your ability more than most I can think of.”

That decisive praise seemed to brook no protest, and Melanie shifted on her feet anxiously while muttering something. “Alright… alright, fine,” she crossed her arms. “You said we’re collecting something. What?”

“See these X’s on the map?” Argrave pointed them out, one after another. “Check here. If the X is oriented like this, it’ll be a refinery. There’s a big thing there that you’ll need to haul away—I’ll give more details after. If the X’s are like this, it’s a warehouse. Your job is to pick these places clean. Take everything you can carry. Then, you’ll bring them to Blackgard.” Argrave looked up. “Now, this next bit is the most important.”

“We talked about this,” Melanie interrupted. “Avoid the Ebon Cult.”

“Yes, avoid the Ebon Cult,” Argrave repeated, saying it like praise. “You, Melanie, are the leader of the scouting party. You’re foraging for some resources, finding some ideal locations… but you are not to start any fights. The Ebon Cult is far less numerous than we are, and this city is huge. There’s no reason to fight. The Stonepetal Sentinels are used to exploring an underground city cautiously—they’ve been wandering around Nodremaid for generations, stepping on the toes of vampires and two-armed heads since before you were born. They can handle this, so long as their leader leads them with caution in mind.”

“I believe she gets the message, Argrave,” Anneliese cut in.

Argrave nodded slowly and rose. “Alright. We can get into the finer details. Questions?”

“I thought this was a promotion,” Melanie noted. “Was all that talk about inner circle just that?”

Argrave spared a glance at Anneliese. She gave him a steady nod, and he looked to Elenore.

“Sis? You’re good at talking money,” he waved to her.

Elenore stepped up beside Argrave. “The Burnt Desert, as it is now, needs to survive off of commerce. The road to the Lionsun Castle is notoriously dangerous—rockfalls pervade the valley, with no sources of water for miles on end. As such, this city is going to become a hub for commerce between the two nations. Once we repair the fortresses on either side… this place will become quite defensible. And Argrave and I were thinking you should be this city’s first countess. Once we repair it for you, naturally, free of charge.”

“I was born in Relize. I know how trade works,” Melanie said, her face slowly gaining a smile. “Well… that’s certainly worth a little something. Make sure to get rid of those weird eye-lights on the ceiling. Oh, and install new magic lights, if you would.” She scratched her cheek, then seemed to decide not to push her luck as she said, “I guess I’ll be scurrying on into that hole with my pack of rose-bearing fools. Just a few clarifications before I do…”

#####

“Once they get their foothold down there, we can start the revival of dwarven metalworking. That’ll bridge the huge gap between us and the Ebon Cult,” Argrave mused with Elenore as they walked along in Nodremaid. Being here invoked paranoia, but Argrave was assured this place was clean by Anneliese, who walked by his side. Galamon guarded ahead, while Orion guarded behind.

Elenore questioned skeptically, “Will new metal alone really prepare our army to fight all that comes? Monsters like that Shadowlander?”

Argrave looked at her seriously. “Equipment is everything for warriors. Dwarven metals can accommodate more enchantments, and it absorbs force so well that very little impact transfers to the wearer. Spellcasters get better spells, warriors get new equipment; it’s a simple equation. On top of that, once they get the dwarven spirit collectors hauled back… we can finally use shamanic magic without restraint. It’s sorely needed.”

“Alright. I’ll trust you. Still, you seem… distracted,” Elenore stopped walking and looked at him.

Argrave stopped with her. She was right—he was thinking about what Castro had said. He looked at her and countered, “Sure this isn’t projection? You’re about to be married.”

Elenore crossed her arms and exhaled. “I don’t… I don’t know, Argrave.”

“Getting jitters at the altar?” Argrave leaned in.

“I… do enjoy Durran. But what if things change? What if he wants things I can’t give?” She looked at him. “What if I’m wrong? And what if he… doesn’t…?”

As Argrave listened, Castro’s voice rang in his thoughts—you must swallow the fact that you can be wrong. Elenore was as good a leader as Argrave knew, and yet even she questioned herself. Maybe this wasn’t the same, but even still… it provoked some thought.

“There are always a thousand reasons not to do something,” Anneliese counseled Elenore as Argrave paused. “In the end, I know only this; these fears are not founded in the here and now. I see no warning signs. He has pure intentions. Emotionally, at least. Elsewise…” Anneliese left Durran’s other intentions unspoken.

Elenore nodded, looking a bit calmer. “Yes, I… I suppose this is so. But there’s a part of me that wishes I didn’t let this fall into his hands so easily…” the princess sighed, then shook her head. “I have some strange, incurable stubbornness he evokes in me. Perhaps I should let him win, if only this once… still, I can’t let him think too much of himself.”

“Might be too late for that,” Argrave pointed out, catching his tempo once more.

Elenore smiled, and then resumed walking. “I have some things in mind.”

#####

The moment that they emerged from the other side of the Low Way of the Rose, Durran was there waiting for them. Him and half a dozen other wyvern riders swooped down from the mountains, casting great clouds of black sand about the land. He brought food from the caverns—Argrave recognized it to be food scavenged by the subterranean mountain people. It seemed Durran had made many friends in the Burnt Desert beyond the tribals and the elves.

When Argrave told Durran that he intended to visit the Alchemist, his friend was understandably concerned. After some explanation, Durran relented, agreeing to command some of his men to take them there as soon as possible.

Under the pretense of getting to know her groom, Elenore arranged to stay at the Lionsun Castle. There, they would arrange things to facilitate coordination between the Burnt Desert and Vasquer. It was nearly the perfect center of the continent, and a more-than-defensible location to reside in while Argrave visited the Alchemist. Once he returned, he would bear witness to their union. It was a political show first and foremost.

Until then, Argrave had a hell of a week ahead of him. Castro and Ingo both weighed heavy in his mind, but each of them were small weights compared to the overwhelming presence of the Alchemist. Argrave was cautiously optimistic about this meeting… but the Alchemist was anything but predictable. Now, the journey remained ahead of them. They planned things out outside the Low Way.

“I had a wyvern of my own, once,” Castro mused, staring out across the endless black sand dunes of the Burnt Desert. “And I know well that Ingo couldn’t handle a very long flight on one.”

“There are plenty cities you can stop at along the way. They’re my allies,” Durran pointed out. “I can tell Argrave some names—he can handle the rest, I’m sure.”

“But the high altitudes…” Castro looked back to the carriage where Ingo rested. “I’m not sure…”

“A carriage won’t cross, and it doesn’t seem to me he can walk,” Durran pointed out prudently. “Seems to me you have to take a wyvern if you really want to get across.”

Castro clicked his tongue, and then sighed. “You have a point.” He looked at Durran. “I was under the impression the southern tribals seldom employed magic. Yet you’re clearly S-rank. And you’re acquainted with Argrave already?”

Durran smiled. “I’ll let Argrave explain the intricacies, tower master. Talk to my man, Trock. He’ll handle things from here.” He turned his head to Elenore. “Are you ready?”

“Certainly,” she nodded, showing none of the unease of earlier.

“Then… shall we?” he offered his hand.

Durran and Elenore walked away, but Castro focused on Argrave and Anneliese. “I suppose I’ll have to make do. I kindly request we wait until Ingo is in decent condition, and then fly to the closest settlement. It could take some time between journeys… but consequently, we can get into the meat of what I hoped to teach you. Is this amenable?”

Argrave nodded slowly. “It’ll have to do. I… I’ve been thinking about what you said, earlier. I won’t lack anything to ponder.”

“The both of us,” Anneliese nodded.

Castro looked between the two of them. “I think the two of you can handle the advanced things. The… finer optimizations. And I will impart all I can, as repayment. I hope this journey turns out to be the blessing you suspect it might be.”

Argrave clenched his gloved hands, thoughts in turmoil. “As do I,” he said simply.