Another half-naked prisoner was brought to his knees before the Yonchin woman. She glared at the poor man with eyes crazed by blood, her Yochin steel eager in her grasp. Her luscious black hair was tied in a tail so as it would not flop in front when she swung her blade in that graceful dance of hers. Skillful, precise, and deadly. Blood swelled his groin as Arthur watched her work.

And to think there were two of them!

Arthur looked down upon the interrogations from the balcony of the freshly built barracks overlooking the dried fountain of Lord Greymir and his great stag. He ensured the slaves had the task done the day the legion arrived. It took a few whippings but the slaves managed and his officers had their much-needed rest.

He was too far to hear what the crazed twin whispered in her prisoner’s ear. She must not have been happy with his answer since she pressed her red-hot blade against his bare thigh. The man held in his scream well, biting his lip so hard it bled. She commanded a new prisoner to be brought before her and the previous to rejoin the line. What has driven her mad? Arthur wondered.

Though the twins mirrored each in face and figure, it took little effort to tell the two apart. The one with bloody hands seemed to have her mouth locked in a constant grit. The second stood by the fire, her back to her sister, feeding the brazier with corpses.

Left with the scraps. Poor girl. He found himself thinking of his brother as he watched the siblings perform their little spectacle.

Twelve years ago, swords and spears had sung a battle song as steel clashed in the high alps of Serpent's Spine. Sword against sword; blade on shield; edge through flesh. The battlefield had been washed with the blood of friend and foe — Knights of the Order and Aracni rebels. Though when Arthur arrived, the song had reached its finale. His brother had rushed to the battlefield without him and had turned the tides all on his lonesome, claiming an overwhelming victory and birthing a legend for himself.

It had been said his brother slew twenty rebels, all before he became a Soulbearer. Arthur, on the other hand, was left with a few stragglers fleeing the battle whom he slain with their backs turned. It was a sour victory, but to twist the knife in his pride, Gabriel had exaggerated Arthur’s contribution to their king.

That battle had granted them the title of Pillar and the beginning of Arthur the Shaft.

Did he do it out of love? Arthur had wondered. Even now he wondered, but he never had the heart to ask.

Sir Barmont joined his side, the old knight’s face still heavy with wrinkles. “The Yonchins are still at it?”

“Yes,” Sir Charles groaned. “Hard to get good sleep with all that screaming.”

“Well, no need to worry about those anymore. Only the strong remain.” He turned to Afzal who stood behind the three, waiting in silence. “Afzal, tell us your findings.”

“It appears this is the Yojin Clan, my lord. Rumor has it a rival clan assassinated their officers. That’s what I heard from a handful of their guards on night watch.”

“And the enraged twin?”

“Turns out one of the officers was her betrothed.”

“I see. Poor thing.”

“Her bed will be cold now. Maybe I’ll offer her my warmth in his place.” Sir Charles snickered.

Sir Barmont scoffed. “Say that any louder and the only thing keeping you warm will be your right hand, Sir Charles.”

Tactless as he may be, Arthur had a similar thought. His lips twisted into a grin, but it soon turned to a frown. He shifted uncomfortably. Only a death-seeking buffoon rides into battle with his manhood untended and pressed against his armor. “Afzal, wake Luella. I’ll have her join me for breakfast. And see to it that filthy purblight joins us for the briefing. We will storm Solaris today.”

“As you will, my lord.” Afzal bowed and scurried off.

When the squire disappeared into the distance, Sir Barmont turned to Arthur and said, “That one has proven useful, Master Arthur. Why not knight the youngling into the Order?”

Sir Charles smacked the timber railing with a mailed palm. “That would be foolish, my lord. The knights will hold a grudge against him for skipping the ranks and the academy. To knight him for so little would tarnish the title.”

Arthur gave him a stern look. He did not like being associated with the word: fool. That made the officer lower his head. “With all due respect, of course. I stand by your command.”

“The youngling brought the chosen purblight to our attention, no? And the power of Storm’s Decree as an afterthought. Is that not good enough? Lord Gabriel has knighted some in his ranks for far less.”

Noticing an approaching patrol, Arthur muttered, “Enough. Afzal will have his rank after we conquer this first trial and return to Lichtwerth. Only if he keeps himself useful. Until then, I will hear nothing more on that matter.” The knights bowed to him and carried on. The morale is low even as is. I will not have it sink further. “Sir Charles, any word from the outposts? Has the messenger returned?”

Sir Charles shook his head. “Nothing but ghost whispers.”

His throat squeezed at the sound of that. The ride to the closest outpost and back was only a day, two at most. It made him wonder if the other messages reached Prince Gwyndel. “Dispatch a squad in case and if they happen to meet the messenger, have them all return. Once you send them off, round up the men. I want them geared and fed and waiting on standby near the fields.”

“As you will it, my lord.” Sir Charles said, mindlessly. His eyes glued to the Yonchin women herding their prisoners with pointed glaives.

“If it wasn’t clear, I meant now, Sir Charles.”

“R-right. Of course, my lord. Right away.”

Once Sir Charles left, Arthur and Sir Barmont made off toward the twins. There was much to discuss with the Yonchins. After the disaster with the Runners, Arthur had spoken with Sir Barmont about their next course of action.

The first siege had gone as well as the last. He had sent a dozen scouts ahead to survey the landscape despite Michael’s warnings, and giant bolts blasted them into mush, some managed to dodge the first volley and cower behind ruins, only to be crushed by the second wave of hellfire. The spray of blood clouds coating the fields struck a devastating blow to the morale of his men. Even now his knights rather pray than sleep. He knew not what they prayed for, but they’d best pray for protection. We march even if we must drag the cowards by horse.

To raise spirits, Arthur had decided to seek the aid of the other houses. Perhaps that would instill some courage into the cravens. But the idea was short-lived. No one knew where the Arindians had gone or when they fled Fort Greymir. In truth, Arthur cared little for the whereabouts of those mountain apes. It was the Cresente and the Yonchins’ cooperation he sought. But alas, the Winders refused his offer. His emissary relayed their fool’s message. “The winds whisper for us to wait. Death still lingers in the air.”

The wind, they say. The Conjurer of Winds raised his people weak, Arthur thought. Let them wait while I claim the first trial in the name of the true king of Syvernia.

Glaives greeted him when Arthur arrived outside the Yonchin camp. The Yonchin polearm was a finely crafted tool, he admitted. The single-edge blade formed a jagged fang that looked like it was torn from the maw of some fearsome beast; flowers of their land embroidered onto the steel; a golden phoenix soared where the blade and the long, blood-red rod met; at the butt, a smaller hooked fang.

“At least ask my name first,” Arthur raised his hand in surrender and smirked, knowing full well he could snap the polearms in half with a firm squeeze. “Put the spears down, ladies. I’d love nothing more than to play with all of you, but my business is with the lovely twins over there.”

“It’s called a naginata, Lightbearer,” one of them said. “This is the Yojin camp. No outsiders allowed.”

He looked at her amused. As if she were a helpless kitten. “This is Fort Greymir, sweet thing. The domain belongs to the Licht Order. If anything, you all are outsiders. . . but I welcome you nonetheless. Now if you’ll excuse me —” He attempted to push through but the wall of naginatas jabbed him back. He sighed at them. “Step aside, ladies, please.”

He could only shake his head at their ignorance when they refused his command. They think they can threaten me? With sticks? Oh, how it pains me.

He sucked in external light, visible rays entering his body from all directions, coating him in a warm, yellow glow like a blanket of brilliance. When he felt his chest was a tenth full, he allowed the energy to burst outward. The heat expanded into a dome of light, tossing the Yonchin women across the dirt.

“I warned you,” he said with a heavy sigh and moved towards the twins, Sir Barmont apologizing to the women on his behalf as they sauntered past.

He was halfway to the scornful twin when the scraps sister stepped in his path. Her eyes were burning. As a follower of the sacred flame should. “Stop, Lord Arthur. That’s far enough.”

Arthur grinned. “Ah, so you know of me. Good. Though I still feel inclined to introduce myself to such a fair maiden.” He caught her delicate hand and gave it a light peck. “It’s a pleasure to meet you — Apologies, dear. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Ako Uchida,” she said, reeling her hand. Suspicion painted her face now. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“It is regarding Solaris and our entry, but I rather not speak out in the open. Perhaps we shall head somewhere private to discuss?” He leaned in for a whisper. “You never know if there are any unwanted ears.”

“You’ve come to seek an audience, unannounced and after assaulting my people?” She scoffed. “The Order has a humorous way of showing respect.”

“I came in peace and your guards refused to allow me through.”

“As they should. This is our camp. And we are in no mood to speak with outsiders.”

“Fort Greymir belongs to my house,” he reminded her. “You are —”

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“ — only in name, Lord Arthur. Your house has forfeited that right when they abandoned this realm.”

He smiled at her. She was no fool and was quick with her tongue despite her airy presence. He forced himself to bow. “Fair enough, Miss Ako. You have my sincerest apologies.” Face frozen, she remained silent, watching him lower his head for her. Women like that. “Now about our little meeting.”

“Perhaps you did not hear me. We are holding no councils with outsiders.” A screeching cry rang behind her. Another prisoner succumbed to the torture. Ako’s gaze shifted for only an instant. “We have our own matters to tend to.”

“That much is clear,” he lied, “but the trials come first, do they not? Is that not why we have all gathered before Solaris? Your men can manage the burnings and the interrogations. Let us band together — the Licht Order and the Yojin Clan — as Queen Celestyn intended.”

Ako hesitated. For a long time, the twin kept quiet, thinking. The fire in her eyes now embers when she glanced at her sister. The sun peeked behind Lord Greymir’s effigy, kissing Arthur’s skin; he could feel it. Just a little more.

His voice fell to a whisper as he paced around her. “Think on it, Ako. The glory waiting for you. The honor. The songs they will sing in your name. Claim it all and the favorable eyes will fall upon you. No more scraps or leftovers. No more hiding in your sister’s shadow —”

The yonchin woman slapped his grinning face so hard he froze. “You vile bastard. You want me to disregard my mourning sister who shared my mother’s womb? Have you no shame?”

Arthur could only look at her, stunned by his burning cheek.

“My sister and I share our hardships and victories and everything between. To hell with glory and honors if it means betraying my own blood,” she spit. “You who schemes such plans have no right in speaking of honor, Lord Arthur.”

The fire from his cheek finally spread throughout his body. He clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might have cracked a tooth, and raised his fist to call upon a Radiant Blade but Sir Barmont stopped his hand from rising past his hip.

“Master Arthur, stop. No good will come if you unsheathe your sword.”

“Unhand me now,” Arthur growled. He tried to wrench free but the old knight’s grip was far more robust than he would have thought. His wrinkled fingers dug deeper with each pull.

“Don’t make matters worse, my lord. The girls are grieving, can’t you see?”

“She slapped me, you old fool. That cannot go unpunished.”

“And I’d slap you too if I were not bound by your brother’s command!” Sir Barmont roared. “The Yonchins are people of honor and family. What did you imagine would happen, she’d jump and dance to your query of treachery? Towards her own sister for that matter!”

The thunder of horse hooves cut Arthur’s reply. Afzal returned on horseback, reeling to a halt, and dismounted when the attention was on him.

“Lord Arthur, Leor and Miss Luella are gone!”

“What?”

The squire lowered his head. “Their bed chambers were empty. I searched the rest of the fort to no success. . . Well, except for the area guarded by Lord Michael’s knights. I told them of my search but they forbade me entry.”

Sir Barmont released his hold of him. “Go on, Master Arthur. See to those matters. I’ll reconcile with the Yojins and try to convince them to join our cause.”

Arthur’s face darkened. Another traitor. “We will speak of this later, Sir Barmont,” he said as he mounted and put his heels to the horse.

The wind did little to extinguish his fumes. He spent the sprint scalding. All the houses denied him, showed him not a shred of respect he was due. Even the old knight dared to flash him a pitiful look. If he were his brother, would they have accepted him? Humor him at the very least? He grumbled at the thought; brother or no, he was still a Pillar. I am owed my dues. Every last one of them will regret this slight. He caught himself. Upset over such trivial things. How would Gabriel see me as I am now?

He threw away the thoughts and breathed deep, reminding himself to hide his emotions. Showing your true face invites trickery. And with that cunning bastard, he needed to be clear-minded.

By the time he arrived at the northeastern quadrant of Fort Greymir, the streets were hollow of traffic. His knights nowhere to be seen. Mounds of dirt piled up along the decrepit streets, rows upon rows. Graves, Arthur thought. He dismounted, approaching a duo of Gabriel’s knights standing guard with halberds in hand. Their armor ugly and

tainted with rust.

“Where is the Fourth Pillar?” He commanded an answer. When the knights gave silence, he sighed. It took much effort not to yell. “Very well, I will find him without your help.”

The two halberds crossed to block his passage and Arthur could not help but laugh in madness. He pried the cross apart and snapped the steel poles as if they were two rotten sticks found on a forest floor, then wedged his hands between the two knights and tossed them across the road with a breaststroke. His laughter died. What fool believed breathing helped?

Half an hour, he marched through the old abandoned market, ready for the swarm of Fourth Knights to greet him, but none came. He searched building after building and only found dust and cobwebs. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of a rat or two. What could the two knights have been guarding, he wondered.

Arthur found himself in what looked like the remnants of an inn. The front desk where the innkeeper once stood still had a mess of papers; the drapes leading to the corridors and the upstairs were soiled and tattered. Scanning the lobby, light beaming from his hand, he crossed the room mindfully. The floorboards groaned at each step.

Something white caught his eye, hidden beneath a pile of thrown chairs. He laid flat and stretched his arm for the thing, expecting the floorboard to collapse at any moment. Soft, some kind of fabric. When he unwrapped it in the light, his stomach retched and he tossed it. A pair of panties splattered with dry blood.

Then a sudden gust of wind flapped the drapes. Arthur turned and saw another glimpse of white disappear into the darkness. It was much larger than the undergarments, flowy and elusive like a wave of mist. A woman?

“Come out,” he called, then paused for a moment to let the silence settle in.

Faint murmurs responded, but they were too jumbled for him to make any sense of. Or perhaps some sinister wind. Calling upon the Light, he conjured a Radiant Dagger and followed after it.

The steady light from his luminescent armament filled the length of the hallway with a faint glow. Shadows waned as he passed by doorless, curtainless rooms. Each one the same as the last: single-roomed, cramped, and sparsely furnished with a decrepit bed and a rusted tub. It dawned on him this was not an inn but a whorehouse; he knew too well the layout of such establishments.

The fleeting white fluttered into a room at the end of the corridor, followed by more whispers. He saw only a peek. Like the tail-end of a nightgown. Was a whore wandering around? Perhaps a slave?

But when he entered the room, it was as desolate as all the rest. Though it was much more spacious. The bed was much too large for two bodies, the tub equally as grand. An intricate tarnished-gold chandelier shaped in the Order’s sigil dangled loosely from the rotting ceiling. No doubt the room was reserved for high figures, Arthur thought.

His gaze fixated on the pale stone hearth where a portrait of Lord Gywn hung above. He knelt and poked at the fireplace. Charred wood. Not freshly burned. Curious, he ran his fingers along the hearth’s familiar design.

“Officials once came here. Then perhaps. . .”

He drew the sigil of his house with his finger, pouring traces of Light into the stone. Then the hearth rumbled and turned halfway out, revealing a descending spiral staircase made of similar stone. A cold breeze crawled past him from the darkness. Another murmur.

Below was an underground dungeon; greystone walls oozing with moss, illuminated by the feeble glow of candlelight; iron cells rimming the long chamber; various jars filled with mysterious substances resting atop shelves and desks littered with books and papers. It reminded him much of Iron Burrow. Arthur’s stomach grew tight. He kept his dagger pointed as he walked over to the study, his mind pounding to the rapid beat of his heart.

Arthur shuffled through the papers containing diagrams of the human body — most of which were of women — circled at different regions: skull, chest, belly, groin.

What in Lord Gwyn’s name?

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” A voice rang from the stairwell, nearing closer, boots echoing on stone.

The paper’s corner crinkled at Arthur’s squeeze. “Michael,” he said, turning to face him.

The Fourth Pillar smiled warmly. Candlelight shimmered in the gold that dangled on his ear. A facade, Arthur knew. “At your service. What brings you to the dungeons?”

“I can ask the same of you.” He flashed the paper with the sketch of a naked woman circled red around her womanhood.

“Why, it is my research, Arthur.”

“Don’t belittle me. I know what it is. I am telling you to explain yourself. What kind of research is this?”

“The kind our king has requested.” That was enough for him to loosen his grip. Michael took the chance to steal back his work and reorganize the scattered papers on his desk. “The theories would be lost on you even if I were to explain it. More importantly, how did you happen down here?”

“Luck.”

“It is you who is belittling me,” Michael chuckled as he paced around, studying Arthur. “Now what was it? A dream? A rat? A vision? A voice?—” Arthur flinched and he took notice. “ — Ah, it beckoned you here.” Grinning, Michael scribbled something into his notes. “I did not think you would be keen to it as well, but perhaps it is due to you being Lightbearer.”

Blood rushed to his face. He shoved Michael back from the desk and tore the scribblings into pieces, letting them sprinkle like snow. “I did not come to be one of your subjects. You will tell me where the purblight has gone. Don’t you dare play the fool. I know it was you.”

“I’ve sent them ahead to Solaris,” Michael responded at once, swiping away at his chest as if he were covered in dirt. His mouth still wore that damn calm smile. “To open a path for you.”

“Who gave you the right? That purblight is under my command.”

“To preserve your forces. That is what you wanted, correct? If he fails, he dies. If he succeeds, you march. A win-win for my fellow Pillar. The purblight is to ring the bell once he has cleared the artillery, as I instructed him. Once it is heard, you may scurry to your dear brother’s side.”

His anger was fleeting. “Gabriel is in Solaris?”

“Of course. Where else would he be?”

Brooding, Arthur searched his face for lies and found nothing. If not Gabriel, who left the note? Who marched for Glintwater? What awaits at the seaside fort?

The Fourth continued. “Though I have my concerns, Arthur. It is no secret your brother wields immense power. And yet, he and the other Pillars have been awfully silent. I fear the worst may have happened. . . ”

“No, that can’t be. Three Pillars falling is unfathomable.”

“Yes, I agree. Lady Gwyndelin, Katerina, and Lord Gabriel are our best, but we cannot rule out the possibility. No doubt their failure would ruin our house. . . which is why you need to find them, Arthur.”

“Me? If they truly did fall, I would be no match —”

“You must. You are the only one who can as I am no fighter.” Michael placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “For the Order, for your brother.”

What is he plotting? Arthur wondered. “And where do you suppose I find them?” he said cautiously.

“The voices, Arthur. I believe it to be calling to us Lightbearers. If we hear it, maybe your brother has as well. Perhaps it has something to do with being so close to the old kingdom of light.”

He did not trust Michael, but the prospects of glory and honor sang too sweetly. What other choice did he have? He had only himself to rely on, and the new duty was no different than the last.

Just as he opened his mouth, a sudden hollow chime echoed down the stairs and filled the dungeon. The Pillars exchanged glances and rushed to the surface for a better hearing. Without a doubt, the tolling was booming from Solaris. Arthur noticed Michael staring at some kind of black orb on his wrist, face puzzled.

“Looks like your plan has some merit,” Arthur admitted, his face smiling at Michael for the first time in a long while. He whistled and his steed came galloping. “I will not forget to mention your name when I earn my right.”