Vasilisa grabbed the iron gate that stood out front the palace in Quadreign. She fit in a key and opened it wide. Argrave eyed the gate—it was cheaply made, and the iron had grown rusty and brittle. The Magister had led them through the city with purpose, and they’d diligently followed behind their escort. It wasn’t as though any people blocked their way.

The quest line in Quadreign had always described the city as failing, as a fragment of its former glory. Certainly, the player could observe the failing houses, the decrepit palace, and the stagnant clocktower. Even still, Argrave felt as though he was seeing the city for the very first time. These were living people enduring hard times in this land of bitter cold. He saw how thin they were, how they shuddered in their poorly heated homes, and how they slowly withered away in this isolated valley.

There was an old man waiting for them in the palace’s courtyard. He wore clothing that once might have been brilliant blue but was now faded and worn and lined with fur to ward away the cold. Vasilisa stepped right up to him.

“Young lady,” he greeted. Argrave recognized him—he was the steward of this palace. Befitting an elder member of House Quadreign, he was a mage with quite a formidable magic pool.

“That title is no longer applicable, Ferrel,” she said coldly. “Here.”

Ferrel took a bag from her hand, and Argrave heard metal clinking within. The steward looked inside, then looked back to Vasilisa. “But… my lady… all of what you earned?”

“I am still part of this house. Take it. I will brook no protest,” she commanded him.

The steward acquiesced with a quiet bow. “It will help alleviate some of the debt.”

“Forget the debt,” she disagreed. “That money is for supplies. The Lous family lost half their herd. We need to buy food, other essentials, distribute them.”

“Of… course, my lady,” Ferrel bowed a little deeper.

“These elves are my guests,” Vasilisa looked back, blue eyes steady. “I want them to meet my sister. They… are here about the flame.”

“Your sister is…” Ferrel’s lips twitched. “I’ll speak to her. It might be difficult. You know how she is.”

“Alright,” Vasilisa nodded, her stern voice lightening up somewhat. “You three. Come along.”

#####

Vasilisa escorted the three of them to a guest house within the palace. It was poorly maintained, and this fact seemed to embarrass the Magister greatly. She promised it would be cleaned, but Argrave insisted it was something they’d be willing to handle themselves. She seemed insulted at first, but gradually she accepted the proposition.

They didn’t have the chance to do much, though. Ferrel returned after a time, and they were escorted within the palace proper—specifically, the great hall beneath the clocktower. Though there was a great ascending set of stairs leading to a throne that seemed to be made for a giant, the person they had been brought to meet—Vasilisa’s sister—sat in a simple chair at the foot of these stairs, the steward standing just beside her. Her name was Diana, and she was the present baroness of Quadreign. She looked quite like Vasilisa, being blonde and blue-eyed, yet age marked her a little more than it had her sister.

As they approached, he heard Diana question Ferrel quietly, in a voice almost too low to hear, “Do I know them?”

“No, my lady. They are new to us. Your sister brought them,” the answer came, just as quiet.

Diane nodded, then leaned her head against her hand and massaged it gingerly as they approached.

“Vasilisa says that you came here to look at reigniting the flame,” Diana said at once.

“That’s correct, baroness,” Argrave dipped his head. “It is Veidimen work. Consequently, we are the only able to help restore it.”

“I see,” Diana said. Her eyes weren’t quite focused on their faces, but they were in their general direction. “And… reigniting this flame. What…” she paused for a few seconds. “…actions do it… does it require from me?”

“The way I understood it, sister, was that he would need only my aid with this matter,” Vasilisa interjected. “I merely wanted to keep you informed about things and get your approval.”

Diana’s eyes wandered for a few moments, then refocused. “Then you have my leave,” she finally said.

“Thank you for your graciousness in this matter,” Argrave lowered his head once again. “I can promise confidently that you won’t be disappointed by this.”

“If there is no thing… nothing more, I’d very much like to be left alone with my duties,” Diana said.

Her hand twitched, and she gripped the arm rest of her chair firmly. Anneliese took note of this and stared for a long while.

“Of course,” Argrave said. “Thank you for your time.”

With that, Vasilisa very eagerly shepherded them back towards the courtyard of the palace. “Diana is very busy and overworked with things, otherwise I’m sure she’d ask for more,” she explained as they walked. “The territory is… not what it once was, and my sister has been working very hard to curb our decline. There are many troubles with being isolated as we are—troubles that were once addressed by this flame. On that matter…” she eagerly drove the subject away from her sister. “I think it’s best that we start discussing what it is you plan to do.”

“Then we can do so,” Argrave agreed. “Indeed, I think things would be for the best if we got to work immediately. To that end… I’d like to see the site where the flame is kept. From old Veidimen records, I believe it was stored underground.”

Vasilisa scanned Argrave’s face, then nodded slowly. “Yes, it was. I need to take care of a few other things before we go there. Return to the guest house a moment while I prepare things.”

#####

“Feels odd, being left behind,” Durran commented as he watched the docks of Relize from Leopold’s estate. One didn’t have a clear view of the sea, and even if there was, Durran didn’t know which ship they left on. It hadn’t even returned to the docks, yet.

“It’s odder that they’re going,” Elenore said.

Durran turned his head back. “Things will turn out. You’ll see.”

“All I know… is that Argrave has saddled us with a lot of work,” Elenore said. “We have to maintain respect for Argrave when he won’t be marching beside his army. And the spellcasters we have, meagre though they may be, have to be kept in check by someone.”

Durran laughed. “Well, shouldn’t you be well-accustomed to earning respect, no matter the situation? You earned a place in the world with a name alone. A rather unintimidating name, at that. I hardly think of bats as the foremost authority, yet here you are.”

“Let’s get to work,” Elenore changed the subject. “The army moves. I think the first order of business… shall be a show of strength for the soldiers of the north who went bandit.”

#####

Argrave hunched over a set of runes, doing his very best to make it look like he was doing some important deciphering. As a point of fact, though, it was all just acting. An investigation quest had little meaning when one already knew what it was they were looking for.

He rose to his feet and turned around, where Vasilisa stood expectantly. “Well? Were you all talk?”

“The flame isn’t extinguished,” Argrave said.

Her blue eyes narrowed into small slits. “That’s a bit difficult to accept when we’re standing in the brazier it used to burn.”

Argrave looked around, making a point to survey the place. “…still, the runes are working. They’re maintaining the flame.”

“There’s nothing to maintain,” she shook her head. “If they are active, they’re faulty, and need to be fixed.”

“They don’t need to be fixed,” Argrave shook his head. “The flame isn’t here anymore. The runes are somewhat degraded because they’ve been sustaining the flame from quite a long distance away.” He looked up. “Given the nature of sending energy through the air… you might have noticed some people getting sick. Muscles seizing up. Vomiting up blood. These runes weren’t made for long-distance maintenance, and the energy travelling through the air probably brought many unwanted afflictions to anyone above ground.”

Vasilisa took a deep breath and stepped away, and Argrave suspected many pieces were falling into place in her mind. Her eyes trembled in rage, and she swallowed deeply. Galamon eyed her cautiously, keeping his hands near his Ebonice axe.

“It was stolen, then? Pilfered, taken away, used by another?” the Magister asked.

“…yes. If someone knowledgeable enough came in close contact, they could steal it away,” Argrave confirmed.

“Can it be reversed?” Vasilisa spoke through clenched teeth. “The connection… severed?”

“Certainly,” Argrave nodded. “But it would take around a year to reignite the flame. The runes would need time to rebuild its essence from the ground up. Though I should note the thief would lose the flame, wherever they might be. As such, if you can wait… it might be worth it.”

Vasilisa stood there, breathing heavily in the quiet stone chamber. Argrave looked to Anneliese, yet the fact that she remained calm said that there was probably no chance the Magister lashed out rashly. She looked to pity Vasilisa.

“Alternatively, we could recover it,” Argrave gave her the second, much better option.

“Recover it?” she laughed. “It had to be the king that stole it,” she stepped around the cold stone chamber, practically fuming. “Do you think us capable of heading to the palace and doing such a thing? As I understand it, that place is a hotbed of activity. Even if I collaborate with one of the… the foolish claimants, Argrave, or… or the south…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think it was the king that stole it,” Argrave shook his head. “If the capital of this kingdom is further south than Relize, the runes could not sustain it so. In addition, as I mentioned… it would have to be someone knowledgeable about the flame. I’m not sure the king fits that criterion.”

Vasilisa turned. “It’s close, then? It’s… it’s far enough to still be in the north?”

Argrave nodded. “Almost definitely.”

Vasilisa’s blue eyes took an icy calm to them. “You said it would have to be someone who came into close contact,” she noted.

“I did.”

The Magister seethed silently, her eyes closed harshly. Her right hand clenched and unclenched into a fist as she stood there, wrapped up in her own world of rage.

“I’m going to flay him,” she decided with a calm voice that disguised her anger. Then, she stepped off towards the exit.

“Not sure that’ll help,” Argrave called out as she stormed away.

“It’ll help me,” she called back, then stopped to punch the wall. Argrave winced as he heard something crack that wasn’t stone, but Vasilisa kept punching the wall.

Since it was evident she wasn’t going to be leaving, Argrave walked closer slowly. Anneliese joined him.

“That man… took the flame of our house for his own,” she said, voice trembling in anger. “Since birth, we gave him its gift freely… and not only did he betray Quadreign to join Vasquer…” Vasilisa turned back. “He made it seem like he was the only reason our family was not killed.”

Argrave crossed his arms. “I take it you have an idea who the flame might presently belong to, now?”

“Yes,” she said with a hoarse voice, blood dripping from her now-disfigured hand. “Yes, I know exactly who. And he’s had quite a time on our misery… not only are we deep in debt to him, but he also holds most of the inland territories that once belong to Quadreign,” she said, almost hysterical by this point. “And he’s come by every single month to collect the interest for his debt, seeing this place fall into disrepair, seeing our people starve and freeze to death, seeing my sister…!” she trailed off, her eyes wandering to Argrave and Anneliese to remind herself she was not alone. It seemed she still wished to keep some things hidden from them.

“So, this person… they’re influential here,” Argrave nodded calmly.

She laughed like it was the funniest joke, then slouched against the wall, sliding down until she sat. “Yes, Silvaden. Yes, you might say Margrave Ivan, Magister of the Order, owner of most of the former Quadreign crownlands, leader of a potent coterie of northern spellcasters, and possibly the richest man in all the north… is slightly influential in the north,” she said drolly.

Vasilisa sat there, despairing.

“Is there anyone else it might be?” Anneliese asked innocently.This belongs to : ©.

That brought some vigor back to her for but a few moments, until she shook her head with gaze distant. “No. Not possible. He, alongside the king, were the last within this place before the flame was exting—no, stolen.”

Argrave scratched at his chin. “Well… a contract is a contract, Magister Vasilisa,” he said.

The blonde-haired woman looked up at him, eyes wide.

“A traitor and a thief… in Veiden, such a man should be eliminated completely,” Argrave said, smiling. “So long as you’re willing, of course… I think all we have is a new obstacle. One that Veid would view righteous to tackle.”

And if some of that influence Ivan possessed might find itself in another hand that might be more positively predisposed towards helping Argrave’s army? Well… that would certainly make that king that was definitely in Relize right now very happy.