Are you happy now, Legosia, that I am weak and brought low? Are you finally satisfied with your campaign, now that you’ve written your name in the annals of history in the blood of our children?

If there is a place beyond this, my friend, I will find you there. And I will make sure that no matter what, every single name of every single man, woman and child is seared onto your body.

-From The Recently Deciphered Notes of King Arneshal, 2nd Grouping

“How can we be sure it’s not there!” Duchess Arelia asked the court. It was a lavish room, giving the nobles their predesignated seats and letting them speak in turn. The room had large rectangular walls, with one of the longer ends rounding off into a half-moon.

It was at this end that the throne of King Selerin sat. He smiled watching the proceedings, carefree as always.

“A little quieter, please, Arelia. We don’t want the enemy hearing us,” he jibed, and chuckling circled across the room. All except for the duchess, who was deadly silent. Her eyes were scrunched up in a glare, and focused entirely on the small group in the middle of the room.

Galeon and his friends stood at attention, scrutinized under the gaze of the nobles present. He looked around to find support, seeing Duke Lambre at the edge of the room. The duke was standing in front of some other, lesser nobles, and watching out for them. He nodded at Galeon’s gaze as it passed him by. No one below a Marquis was in the room, with Noviselle being the only Countess from what Galeon could see.

It was claustrophobic being in such a cramped room for him, and he instinctively looked for ways out. Though he only found closed glass windows to leap through. Seraphas help me…

“Leane told us, your Ladyship. She only remembers searching for gold,” Galeon answered.

“And that proves that the Weapon isn’t inside of the city? You’re making a bold claim, Afterburner Galeon,” Arelia Mentir replied.

“We don’t have any proof of the Weapon even being in Sanasira. And those notes that Leane led Galeon to imply that the Weapon was already taken from the city,” Noviselle interjected.

“There’s no point in wasting time here when the Weapon awaits in Deyfo,” Isildan added. Noviselle smiled at him and turned back to the crowd.

“Your Highness, if we don’t act on this now, the information might leak to the Ravenishtanis,” Noviselle told him.

Selerin took his hand off of his hand and smacked them on his armrests.

“Well, I’m convinced. But to be safe, what of the rest of you? Convinced or not by the young Countess?” King Selerin asked. People shuffled around awkwardly, before a single hand went up. Galeon thanked Duke Lambre, for being the first to initiate. After him, many other hands joined until almost half of the room was in agreement with Noviselle.

“From a rough look, that seems to be about half of the court. If any Lord or Lady is against this, and yes Arelia, I will get to you, then they may voice their argument,” King Selerin told them. As soon as he stopped speaking, Arelia’s voice grew.

“Your Highness, we cannot take such a rash action so quickly. Whatever evidence these… brave but inexperienced soldiers have gathered might have been doctored.”

“Doctored by who, Grand Duchess?” King Selerin asked. Arelia pointed squarely at Leane, and Galeon stepped in front of her.

“It seems suspicious to me that such a young woman appears, and immediately after we find evidence of the Weapon not being in Sanasira. Could it not be much simpler that she’s a Ravenishtani spy sent to misguide us?” Arelia asked.

King Selerin sat for a quiet moment, looking at Leane before turning back to the Grand Duchess.

“If it would soothe you, you can examine her, Arelia.”

Immediately an aura flared around Arelia, a blue pillar of light shining into the sky. The nobles around her flinched backwards, the sudden brightness blinding them. Galeon could see Leane being scared, and offered a hand for her to hold. She took it in hers slowly, before facing the Grand Duchess.

Arelia stared for a long moment, the blue beam of light never receding the entire time. A second later, Duke Lambre flared his own aura, and shot a look at Arelia.

“For surety,” he stated simply.

“You can take it off, Lambre. I trust Arelia to be fair,” King Selerin told him. Duke Lambre hesitated for a moment, then listened to the king and turned his hallowmancy off.

“She’s looking for any excuse to get you. Don’t give her anything,” Emile whispered from beside Leane, and she swallowed.

The Duchess’ field faded soon after, and Leane let out a held breath.

“And? Were you right, Duchess?” King Selerin asked, in a tone that bordered on mocking.

“The test was… inconclusive.”

Galeon squeezed Leane’s hand, flashing her a smile. Even Emile gave her a pat on the back discreetly. King Selerin stood up from his throne and stretched, moving down the stairs onto the main floor.

“If the so called ‘Last Daughter of Elneshe’ is telling us the truth, and Deyfo is where the old King kept his Weapon, then there really is no reason to be sticking around, is there?” King Selerin asked the court.

“There is… one thing, Your Highness,” Arelia said one last time. Galeon wondered what trick she’d pull out this time, and waited.

“Alright, Queen Arelia. Since this is your court, I suppose you can do whatever you wish,” King Selerin told her.

“But there is, Your Highness. My spies recently returned from the Ravenishtani camp with news!” Duchess Arelia said.

“And you saw fit to mention it only now?” Duke Lambre asked her.

“I didn’t think it would concern this issue. It seems I was wrong,” Arelia admitted. “The spies report that one of the Ravenishtani Generals, Dolish Venastian, made his way into the city during the takeover of Latren,” Arelia said.

“…Venastian? I didn’t think I’d hear that name again,” King Selerin muttered.

“They say he recovered more notes from the late King Arneshal’s journal there.”

“Notes that have thus far, only been full of ramblings mixed in with hints of what he was up to,” Duke Lambre added. Arelia shot him back a glare before continuing.

“But those notes are the same reason we’re headed to Deyfo, are we not? They say he’s even deciphered the text written on those notes. Your Highness, those notes could reveal more insight into the location of the Weapon,” Arelia argued. Galeon felt his hand being squeezed.

“Or they could be completely useless in determining its location. Leane is the only lead we have towards its true location. What are you willing to bet on this?” King Selerin asked her. He moved up close, making the other nobles back away. Only Arelia stood, her gaze quivering.

“Everything.”

“Dolish Venastian is not to be underestimated, Arelia. Tell me your answer again, and I want you to ponder it heavily before you do.”

Arelia was about to answer, but paused. The Grand Duchess then clenched her fists and cleared her throat.

“Everything, Your Highness.”

“Use your powers, Commander Arelia,” the King ordered her. Arelia nodded, flaring her aura once more.

What do you require, Your Highness? She asked him mentally.

I want you to take them along, the King sent back.

But they’re children!

Not a request, Duchess. It’s an order. I trust them to do good work, the King replied mentally.

…It will be done, Your Highness.

She then turned her field off, and the King walked away.

“That’s one matter dealt with. I apologize for the wait, Lords and Ladies. Let’s continue,” he said, walking back to his throne. As he passed Galeon by, he glanced at his little group.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“You five are dismissed. Return to your posts,” he said idly, before moving away. Galeon still felt the attention on him, even as the guards escorted him and his friends out of the court room and into the hall.

“What do you think they talked about when the Duchess used her powers?” Emile asked, looking back at the door to the court.

“Kingly secrets of some kind?” Galeon wondered.

“Crown Logistics?” Leane asked.

“Maybe he was embarrassed talking in front of so many people,” Isildan guessed. Noviselle would’ve added something, but the other answers stunned her.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think we’re done yet,” Noviselle said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Galeon felt bad for her. It seemed the vacation had made her even more annoyed with her job.

The weather outside was clear for once, which made Galeon want to go flying. But before he could even consider the option, Novi grabbed him by the collar.

“I said, we’re not done yet,” she told him. “Leane, make sure, he stays put,” she ordered and left. Novi disappeared down the hall, and Galeon looked at Leane with a smile.

“You can do me a favour, right, Leane?”

Leane smiled back.

“I’m already doing Noviselle a favour, so I can do one for you, too! Do you want your grave in Shimmerlake or somewhere else?”

Galeon stayed put after that, beginning to find Noviselle’s demands quite reasonable, actually. After all, there was always another time to fly. Yes, always another time…

Though they’d tried to keep up the conversation, the four of them stuck around in the hallway for so long each grew bored. Emile started doing coin tricks to entertain himself, while Isil played around with a few fist sized portals. Leane even put her head in her hands, staring at the paintings on the wall or talking with the guards at the entrance to the court.

Galeon suffered the worst of them, restlessly bouncing his legs as he waited. He began to wonder how horrible death could really be, and if a few moments outside would really anger Novi that much. After some time, he stood up and began to pace around the hallway. He grew quicker and quicker, running laps between the two ends and glancing at the window every time. Just a few moments, and he’d be back. He just needed the fresh air, is all.

He'd be back before Noviselle even knew it. Clouds were setting in the skies, which hurried Galeon’s decisions, and he started going towards the windows more and more. Even Leane, despite being tasked with keeping him on a leash, didn’t notice the amount of time he was spending near the balcony.

Then Galeon’s patience broke, and he began to stomp towards the windows. He’d truly do it this time. Leap out of the window, soar through the skies, enjoy the fresh wind that he could sculpt with his hands. And just as he placed his foot onto the railing of the balcony, he heard a voice behind him.

“Afterburner Galeon, what are you doing?” Duchess Arelia asked. Noviselle was behind her, giving Galeon a deadly stare.

“I was…” he glanced everywhere around him, “… stretching my legs. We need it to keep ourselves limber during a flight, your Ladyship!” he reasoned. Arelia narrowed her eyes, then shook her head.

“Keep them off the King’s marble, at least. You’ll dirty them with your feet. Now come along, you and the rest of your little cabal,” Arelia ordered him, and Galeon took his foot off. He dragged himself away from the window, sighing in disappointment. Noviselle flicked his ear and left it at that, which he counted as Seraphas’ blessing.

Isil, Emile and Leane straightened up once the Grand Duchess approached.

“All of you with me, we’ve much to discuss,” Arelia ordered them. She spared a glance for Leane, raising a hand.

“Except you. You’re not needed.”

“What do I do, then, Duchess?” Leane asked.

“Whatever your heart desires, away from me,” Arelia replied. Leane seemed to grab her meaning, leaving with her head hung low. Galeon gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and she smirked slightly as he left.

“Where are we going, Duchess?” Isil asked her.

“To my chambers. Your little Countess has proposed a plan I think works out very well for us,” Arelia replied curtly. She refused to answer any more questions after that, guiding the group along with her outside. A palanquin hoisted up by Aftebrurners carried them towards the Duchess’ offices.

Galeon felt bored through the trip. Though he was technically in the air, the feeling couldn’t be further. He couldn’t see, smell, feel anything in this chamber. They might as well have been travelling by cart and there would be no difference. Isil seemed to enjoy the sight, however, staring out the small window they had to look from.

By the time they landed, Galeon was glad to leave. In front of them lay a new building, one smaller but no less extravagant than the King’s palace. The building had arched windows and spires reaching into the sky, carving out the wind. Afterburners rested against those spires, keeping vigilance outwards towards the rest of the camp. Galeon could recognize not a single one of them, nor their uniform.

“Private guards from my own duchy. None of your concern, Afteburner,” Duchess Arelia explained proudly, answering his question before he could even answer it.

They walked inside, expecting it to be full of servants bustling around and family members. Yet Galeon and the others were surprised to find it filled with maps. Maps and ancient texts that were strewn about in a haphazard fashion. The air smelled of parchment and ink, and they could barely make out the hunched figures of scribes noting down things in rooms.

Duchess Arelia made no note of the location, guiding them past the rooms full of papers and towards the back of the hallway. There they found themselves at the entrance of a small office, guarded on either side by more guards. Arelia nodded to them, giving them a passcode and heading inside. Her guards followed next and Galeon’s group finally.

It was perhaps the only organized room in the entire building, though none the less crammed. Books and papers were stacked atop each other in an orderly fashion, and a large chandelier set with bewllan shined atop them. A large clean wooden desk took up a large portion of the room, and the guards brought chairs next to it.

The guards stood beside Arelia, hands on their weapons still. Galeon felt uneasy looking at the spears, at their white knuckled clutching of them.

“Not for you, Afterburner. They’re for me,” Arelia said, letting a light chuckle into her tone. Galeon only grew more uneasy. Why did she have spears trained on her at all times?

“Countess, would you brief your men on what we discussed?” Arelia asked them.

“Certainly, Grand Duchess.”

Noviselle took a deep breath, and Galeon wondered what she’d offer.

“The Grand Duchess and I decided it’s best that we send you three… to infiltrate the Ravenishtani camp,” Noviselle spoke.

“... I don’t know if you know, Novi, but we don’t exactly look Ravenishtani,” Emile said in reply. Ravenishtanis had larger, rounder eyes, and paler skin. Some of them looked sickly with that coloration, but they acted as if it was normal.

“There are regions in the south of Ravenishtan with similar pigmentation and features,” Duchess Arelia argued.

“Still, why Galeon, Isil and me?” Emile asked.

“You work well together,” Noviselle said, and Isil and Emile glanced at each other.

“You should reconsider, Novi. Maybe we could take along a Devourer instead?” Isil asked.

“All the Devourers I have are on another mission.”

“What mission would that be?” Noviselle asked, narrowing her eyes.

“None of your concern,” Arelia replied, unwavering in her expression.

“What do you want us to do there, Novi?” Galeon asked her. There was pleading in his eyes.

“Just theft, Leon,” Noviselle assured him, and Duchess Arelia raised a brow. “You’ll need to locate General Venastian’s quarters, grab the deciphered notes, and then leave as fast as you can. That’s why I wanted you for it specifically.

“Emile should be able to find a way in for you before that,” Noviselle said, explaining the specifics. Her explanation continued for a while, on each of their tasks while inside of the camps, all the while the Duchess would interject here or there with her own insights.

“It should be a simple enough affair. Get in, get the notes, get out. It shouldn’t be hard with your speed?” Noviselle said, in question more than anything.

“And that’s all you want me to do?” Galeon asked, brightening up.

“That’s all you’ll have to do, Leon,” Noviselle replied.

“Then I accept!”

He looked at Isil and Emile, who seemed more in conflict. Emotions warred on their faces, before it seemed they gave up.

“It’s an important mission. We should do it,” Isil said.

“If you two are coming along, at least I can trust you,” Emile added.

Duchess Arelia smiled slightly, leaning back in her chair.

“You three are going to need some training before you’re let into the camp. And a makeover regardless,” she told them.

This was his perfect mission. He didn’t need to raise a single hand against his enemies. But though she’d wanted them to agree, he thought he saw fear in Noviselle’s eyes at their acceptance.

****

“These structures are too large to be housing. When we explored inside, all we found was empty space and half-broken Weaves,” Dolish explained to the man. He was with his translators, who rubbed their eyes in exhaustion.

“General, do you think the Soulweavers were biting down on bewllan like bread all day?!” the scholar said, exasperated. “They’d have to be spending every waking and unawake moment on it!”

“But the warehouses exist, which implies they knew a way to keep their Weaves around!” Dolish argued, raising his voice.

“Maybe it was for food, clothing! Maybe they were a communal society and shared their belongings. Frankly, sir, there’s only a few days between me and the fresh air of the capital, so I could care less,” the scholar said, standing up from his seat.

“And you should too. We can always investigate the city for the reason behind those buildings’ construction later,” he finished. Though Dolish wanted to argue further, he noticed how late it had really gotten.

There were bugs chirping outside, and the sky was darkened. Had he really spent this long arguing about this fact? Dolish looked down at the table they’d spread their information along. He chuckled, looking at his own sorry state.

“You’re right, Rondor. Maybe it is too specific a detail to be focusing on,” Dolish admitted. Rondor looked as if he’d won a major battle, relishing in the victory of the moment silently before exhaustion consumed him. He groaned and rotated his muscles around his robe, looking at the General.

“I can have any relevant material brought to your offices when we return home. I’ll need permission to meet with you then, however,” Rondor told him.

“And you’ll be granted it. Now go and rest, we’ve spent enough time on petty details as it is. I’ll have Vaness write you up a note.”

“You should take the time to rest, General, after all of this is over.”

“I suppose in a way, this is my method of relaxation, Rondor,” Dolish replied. The scholar muttered something disparaging about Bladeborn, but Dolish didn’t quite hear it.

Rondor then disappeared behind the door and Dolish sighed in his seat. It had started as just another way to bide the time until they returned. Preparations would begin from tomorrow, which left Dolish to ponder the details of the old King’s notes. In between every line, it seemed there was something for him to discover and obsess over.

And obsess he did, to the detriment of those around him. But that kind of obsession was warranted, especially since he wanted to make sure His Sharpness hadn’t done wrong by choosing his side over Yennel’s.

Yennel…

He wouldn’t be resting any time soon, that was for sure. Yennel had still tried to have him killed, and done more besides to get in his way. Even if the Armon didn’t believe him, that wouldn’t stop Dolish from digging up whatever he could find about the Lieutenant General.

Already, he waited for reports of the supposed encounter he had in Birralia, and what he’d really done. Rest assured; he’d see the traitor’s head beneath a blade someday. Him and South Gejsa’s warriors. My commanding days are not ending any time soon, at this rate.

But for tonight, he’d rest. Tomorrow, he’d regain his strength. And by the next season he’d find himself firmly back in Ravenishtan, next to Shann and Eval. Dolish rubbed the little marble Eval had gotten for him, feeling homesick all over again.