It was Magne who wanted him to come to dinner, to bring Yara, but he had Roland be the messenger.

Roland didn’t say anything suspicious, but he didn’t need to, both of them felt they were on the same wavelength about what this dinner meant.

So many choices.

“Of course, I would be delighted to have dinner.”

“There was never a doubt in my mind that you intended to accept the invitation.”

“I shall see you there.”

He ended the call and tapped on his throne, thinking.

Velvet’s guards reacted quickly when an unknown presence entered the castle, but calmed, very slightly, when they saw that it was Fomoria.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I am here for Amber.”

“She’s out in town right now, she uh… she said she wanted some space. Do you- No, sorry, I’ll figure this out on my own.”

“No no no, what’s the problem?”

“Why don’t we move to my office?”

The room was a mess, fabric and sketches scattered around on every surface and many on the floor.

“Your sister and I, we… well I think it’s because I’ve been busy and we haven’t… been together enough.”

“You mean sex.”

Velvet loudly coughed.

“I, well, I mean, yes. I don’t know if she really accepts that I’m putting work ahead of her, but I have things that I need to do, and between being a king and being a designer of bespoke clothes and furniture, I don’t have that much time if I get these strange custom orders.”

“Well clearly you must quit one of them if you want to keep her. But I doubt that is the problem.

When you do have time for her, what do you do? Dinner, talking, then sex?”

“Well, I-”

“Yes then?”

“Yes.”

“Take a day off, the entire day, and then spend it with her out of here. Amber is a farm girl, rural, she can enjoy the city, but that isn’t what is going to remind her the most of her childhood.

I believe that she wants that, because her life has been somewhat aimless since she grew up, she dropped out of the army, she went adventuring, and then she had to choose between staying at home all the time because of the threat posed against our family, or coming here.”

“Then as soon as I-”

“Tell your clients to fuck off for a day, push back their orders.”

“But-”

“You have power, use it. If your clients have a problem, tell them that they came for you because of your skill, and that can be revoked. If they threaten you, remind them that you and I are close friends.

I don’t believe that you like being a king in the first place, I think that your passion is always going to be design, so either hand the title to someone else, or to me.”

“Fine, bring me some candidates, and I’ll find some among my own people. I don’t mean to offend, but I don’t want a marshall here, I want Velvet to remain as its own independent nation under the banner of Fomoria.”

“I hope you and her can work out your issues, since she does seem to like you and she deserves happiness of her own. Have you talked about children?”

“She doesn’t want them, I’d like some, but-”

“She doesn’t want children?”

“I don’t think that I should be the one to-”

“You should be more commanding, I believe she would enjoy you taking a more active role in her life and in your own.”

“Uh, I’ll think about that.”

“That is all I ask.”

“Is something wrong? You seem a little off.”

“I am going to get Amber now, she might not be back for a time.”

Velvet watched Fomoria walk away, but his heart couldn’t let him leave.

“Sit back down.”

“I must-”

“Clearly something is wrong, so please, sit.”

“Velvet, I find it touching that you would try, so I will be more honest with you than I have been with others, on the condition that you don’t tell anyone else, not even Amber. Do I have your word?”

He knew that he shouldn’t, that it might not be his business, but Fomoria had saved him at cost to himself, to his nation, and for no reason other than it being the right thing to do.

“As a friend, I think that I need to know. Come on, dump your load on me.”

For the first time in the conversation, Fomoria had a genuine smile.

“I can’t give any real details, because if I did, then my enemies would put a stop to my plans.”

“There’s no chance that they could hear us, whoever they are. I mean, you, or one of your others, helped update all of the wards and arrays in the castle.”

“My enemies are in high places. But, if I could do it, I would tell you, and that should mean something.”

Velvet sighed.

“Just go.”

It wasn’t hard to find Amber in the city, she had a tendency to turn heads for one reason or another.

Or in this case, crack heads.

Much like Harlan had done those years ago, she had put up a bounty on herself, anyone who could make her submit in the ring would be paid a hefty sum.

He dropped from above, catching both her sword and the hammer of the other man.

“Amber, we are leaving.”

“THIS FIGHT ISN’T OVER.”

The man tried to pull his hammer back, but taking it from Fomoria was like pulling a mountain.

Hands came from Fomoria’s back, casting a gravity spell.

When he let go of the hammer, it fell to the ground with a mighty thump and cracked the tiles.

“If you can pick that up and swing it, I will let the fight continue.”

It took a few minutes, but the Goliath gave up on trying to retrieve his weapon from the crater.

Fomoria, with some effort, picked up the hammer with a head the size of his chest and slung it over his shoulder, the weight of him without hover and the weapon caused the tiles to crack as he walked past the man.

“When I say things, assume them to be orders.”

He slammed the hammer down, making a crater much larger than the one from it falling due to just the spell and blowing the Goliath away.

Amber found it amusing at least.

Her smile was wiped clean when she was told of why he had to collect her.

She had the same reaction that they all did, and Liat hated it.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

She now knew that she was weak, not just compared to other people around her, or to those who taught her, she was weak to the point where nothing she could ever do would change it, would ever matter in the face of true might.

“Liat, it’s good to see you again.”

She knew something was wrong, but she liked how he treated her like this, not an ounce of pity in his tone.

“Amber, it’s… I’ve missed you.”

“Sam, she-”

Amber couldn’t finish her sentence, the words caught in her throat.

When Fomoria left the room, Yara came with.

“I thought you’d want to be with them.”

“No, I didn’t know Sam, it doesn’t feel right to be with them.”

“I had the same thought. In a week, we are going to Duran to have dinner with Magne.

I would like for you to be there in more than just your body.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“Liat is safe, she isn’t in any danger. I know you are worried, but there is only so much worrying that can be done, it isn’t healthy.”

She brightened some when he pulled her into a hug.

Even though the others were worried, she loved how he was.

Each day, Fomoria brought Yara to Liat, and each day he brought her back to Kor so she could rest and recover.

In that week, he had also given special attention to Harlan’s own severing, watching how he much more quickly healed his bond with Aarde and regained his magical abilities compared to Liat.

What he noted as the best clue for his plans was that when one could cast a spell without signs or chants, they used less of the connection with Aarde.

This made sense, and in his mind revealed a link between the efficiency of a spell and how much of the work was being done by forces outside of the mage.

He wondered, was this known? Were other archmagi aware of the connection with Aarde and how it controlled all of the magic that flowed through their bodies?

He thought it likely that Hirum would be aware, he seemed to know a lot, and the fact that both Harlan and Fomoria had not yet figured out how he could record messages and play them back through the amulets bothered them to no end.

Yara wore the dress she wore the first time she visited Duran with Fomoria, and he wore what he normally did.

There was a royal welcome, trumpets, flowers, a long roll of carpet, and soldiers lining the street.

Magne made a real show of letting a foreign ruler step foot in his city on an official basis.

But that made little difference towards how people actually felt about Fomoria being there.

Scoreful gazes, hate filled minds, an air of disgust, these were what one could see if they were to watch the crowd, to feel them out, hidden under all of the circus.

He stopped not five feet from Magne, and bowed lightly.

Most formality had roots back to Reino, when it spread around the globe, so Fomoria knew better than to assume that Magne’s refusal to bow even slightly was any cultural clash.

But he held his tongue, it wouldn’t matter in the end.

“King Magne, I am pleased to be invited back to your city.”

The boy wore a cloak of red with white trim holding black diamond spots which was clearly meant for a full grown man of at least six feet high.

Even for only being 12, he was small, his features soft and from his mother much more strongly shown than from his father, giving him an androgynous appearance.

The crown he wore was ill fit for him, big headed, small minded, encrusted with jewels, entrusted with fate.

His scepter was gold and shining with gems, too heavy for him to carry with real conviction.

“Roland has spoken on your behalf, and thus I thought it best to offer my hands to join in strength.”

The boy king’s manner of speech fit as well as his… no, something else was at play.

“He and I seem to agree on much, so I was hopeful you would see the wisdom in inviting me back.”

Mange had the sense to hear his words and see the minor jab, Fomoria’s words implied that it was Roland who was wiser, but Magne’s words said that this was his plan.

Yara could feel the tension in the air rise between them.

“Shall we move on to a tour of your home?”

It took a moment to place the feeling that the boy gave off, but now Fomoria was certain of something.

He questioned if he should remove Yara, but he held to his original plan for the evening.

Duran’s borders were fairly large all things considered, but it had once controlled several stripes under the fist of Magne the first, and his castle reflected it.

It had a thick base that raised it above the surrounding buildings, and it had a rather strange feature, a moat.

In a world where earth magic could cross even 100 feet quite quickly, Fomoria saw little sense in it, and from the fish he could see in it, perhaps it had a purpose once, but was reduced to just a decoration.

The towers of the castle, numbered 14, reached as high as the walls of the city itself, the courtyards were filled with carefully trimmed hedges showcasing animals, and the towers had arrow slits for both outside and inside.

“Is something the matter?”

“No.”

As they walked through the inner halls, he couldn’t help but also notice the numerous murderholes in the ceiling.

Such things were common in the outer areas, but inside of the castle itself one found such defensive openings left out for the sake of maintaining aesthetics, most often with the belief that if enemies breached the walls then there was little chance of such things changing the outcome.

“Was this always a castle?”

“Yes, since the time before Magne the first, Castle Duran has always been an impenetrable fortress.

In the hundreds of years that the nation of Duran has existed, not once has it fallen.”

Fomoria’s silence was starting to set Roland on edge.

They were led to a tea room, a pre-dinner drink and appetizer.

“Bring us scones and tea.”

The maid bowed at the knight and left, but Fomoria could feel that others were already on standby with the items.

But why? Was Magne trying to show off his superior servants? It was just another oddity of this place.

“Fomoria. I believe the first order of business should be an apology.”

“Very well.”

Magne waited just long enough to be sure of his intent.

“Are you slow?”

“No, I’m just patiently waiting for you to apologize.”

“For what exactly? Was it not you who came to my city and assaulted my soldiers?”

A simmering rage underneath, but no, Magne had perfect control over his displayed emotions.

What little he showed came out as annoyance.

“I believe that there has been some sort of miscommunication, well, that’s not true, and you know it.

I am not the weaker party here, I am the one who is offering you a hand, there is nothing you can give me, only what I will allow you to keep.”

“You come into my own home, threaten me, insult me?”

“You don’t talk like a 12 year old.”

“What non-sequitur is that?”

“Nothing, pay it no mind for now.”

He reached into his jacket and the guards went for their swords, all except Roland.

Fomoria ignored the guards weapons, he neither hastened nor slowed as he pulled out a charter.

“You surely know what this is.”

“Your desire, not worth the-”

“Boy, do not insult my charter. It has more wisdom and life experience borne in each line than you, a boy without even hair on his balls yet.”

Yara choked on her tea.

“I believe that you’ve said enough.”

“If you'd like to move past the bullshit posturing and actually talk business, we can do that, and I believe that someone like you really just wants that business, you cold heartless monster.

So, take off the face of the boy, and show what you really are.”

Magne twitched, trying to peer into Fomoria’s mind, to know if he knew, yet he had no mind reading, and Fomoria’s words were up to interpretation, so his instincts said to continue wearing that face.

“Then we shall speak business.”

The facade crumbled.

Yara had her part to play in this night, but it wasn’t talking politics and military action.

Magne’s mother had remained a silent shadow over her son, though few shadows could hope to match her beauty.

She was tall and slender, her fat had been deposited in all the right places despite a lack of mana flow from magical casting; it was no shock she was a king’s wife.

Her clothes were white, frilly, clearly expensive, modest, all except her breasts, which were half revealed and pushed up by a corset.

The pair left the men, or rather, the man and the boy, to their talks, and instead went to a courtyard.

“What beautiful flowers.”

Yara reached for one of the purple bulbs, which appeared almost like a hooded man, but Patricia stopped her.

“That is Wolfsbane, a poisonous flower.”

“Oh, thank you for warning me.”

Fomoria had sent one of D’if’s Others there before, and Yara already knew about the flowers, all of them.

Patricia had a green thumb, and each of the courtyards, seven in all, was maintained by a different wife, though now gardeners took care of the others since she was the last living wife of the last Magne.

Fomoria was of two minds about this fact, that her garden was full of poison, and he wondered if she was someone who lacked subtlety, who openly displayed the tools which killed the king, the wives, and the children; her manner of dress would support such an idea.

“Are you close with Magne?”

“He is my dearest son, and I would say that even if I had more than just him.”

“But he’s changed, hasn’t he?”

Yara reached for another of the flowers, and her enhanced form meant Patrcia could not stop her.

“Yes, but- I mean, no, those are-”

Her husband had given instructions based on what had been observed of Patricia.

One trait she clearly showed that he could not ignore was that she spent much of her time in the garden and always kept a close eye on everyone who entered so they wouldn’t touch the flowers and be harmed.

She wasn’t sure about the woman until now, but her desire to protect Yara from the flowers had split her attention, made her honest for a moment.

“Belladonna. And those are Checkered Lilies, and so on and so forth. Did you murder those children?”

“Wh-what? Of course not.”

“Alright then. My husband suggested you should wear this ring tonight.”

“Thank you.”

Patrcia found the offer strange, and she worried about putting on the plain band, yet Yara’s smile was so warm and kind that she couldn’t help but trust her.

----------------------------------------

David and Parnell had never stopped, even with Nemain in chains.

Before, they had the ability to camp inside of Nemain’s small world, now, they camped in the woods, a cave if they were lucky, if they were really lucky, there was something already in the cave worth eating.

“Do you think she’s coming back?”

Tonight, they set up hammocks between trees, and they didn’t bother with veils to hide themselves, Nemain’s ichor had granted them a shield from the eyes of others.

“I don’t know. Let’s just get some sleep.”

“Can’t. Want to work on it again?”

“We’d need a third person or another ten years to expand our mana reserves.

What kind of monster is Hirum that he can cast something like that on his own?”

“That’s not a no.”

“I’m tired, I don’t want to waste another night trying that spell.”

When the pair awoke in the morning, they found a vial of ichor waiting for each of them in their boots.