The armies of Cloudsea abandoned Castle Noxus, taking the garrison with them, and by nightfall the castle town had descended into chaos. Screams filled the night as youth gangs roamed the streets carrying out old vendettas against their enemies. Jealous men murdered their cheating wives, old men were burned alive for ancient slights, and young boys were captured and forced to fight to the death at gunpoint for the amusement of gambling addicts. At least, these were the rumors that circulated The Tumbling Dice, and Quinn was not certain he believed them all.

To his credit, Seth had done a good job establishing a reputation as a valued customer in the establishment. Hired muscle protected the door from troublemakers, but they also occasionally swept the tavern searching for freeloaders who took up space without spending coins. In spite of Quinn's protests, Seth took to the gambling tables. Thankfully, he was winning, and he was giving much of that gold to the house with the purchase of fake drinks for the tavern girls. All of the rooms upstairs were occupied, but Seth successfully negotiated a small space in the cellar where they could set up their bedrolls.

Sometime after dawn, cries rang out through the tavern, followed by a stampede of boots. The cellar door flew open and a plump barmaid began shouting. "Young men!" she said. "Wake up! The Primarch has come! He has come to our little town!"

Men in white trousers and green coats marched through the streets in lockstep, armed with rifles and sabers. A knight wearing porcelain armor and a green cape strode upon a horse, flanked on either side by priests in green robes carrying huge banners. Both the cape and the banners featured the likeness of a white gavel, the sigil of the Church of the Lawgiver. Maxius the Younger followed the knight, sulking beside a broad-chested man with green hair and a beard. The older man was wearing extraordinarily ornate white robes and a funny hat. The younger man was still wearing the same tattered furs, but he looked quite a bit cleaner, and Quinn assumed he was wearing a wig because his dark green hair had been restored.

"All hail Heritor Maxius," the knight bellowed, "Primarch of the Holy Church of the Lawgiver. All hail his son, Heritor Maxius the Younger. The Primarch invites you to gather in the town square."

Thankfully, they were among the first groups to reach the town square, so they enjoyed a more or less unobstructed view of the central platform. With his son at his side atop the platform, the Primarch began to recite the litany of crimes and insults that Maxius the Younger suffered at the hands of Sir Zachary the Knight of Summer. In Quinn's estimation the man was probably exaggerating. Then he began reciting some religious nonsense.

"The Lawgiver, in His wisdom, sent my beloved son a savior, one from among the very army that captured him. Two young men from that race common to the west, from the lands claimed by the Aden family."

"It was Quinn!" Seth cried. "My brother Quinn saved Maxius!"

"Look, look!" somebody cried. "They are from Lyn! Two boys from Lyn!"

"It's them! They saved his son!"

Amidst the uproar, people began to part around Seth and Quinn, leaving them exposed to the curious gaze of the Primarch. "My son, is it true? Are these the two young men from Lyn?"

"Father, it is true. But why are they here? Should they not have marched west with Princess Lucia?"

The Primarch ignored these protests and said: "Young men from Lyn, step forward. Come with us. Guards, we are leaving. Please escort my son's saviors."

Quinn had often wondered what the interior of an ancient castle looked like, and he was not surprised that the reality matched the rumor. Dank, narrow passages made of stone, almost lightless except for the occasional arrow slit. A spiral staircase led to a modest throne room with a burning fireplace. The soldiers began to arrange themselves around the room as the Primarch ascended to the throne with his son at his side.

"What are your names?" the Primarch finally asked.

"Seth!" Seth said confidently.

"Quinn," Quinn added meekly.

"I am surprised the Elder Saint didn't intervene when my son was captured," the Primarch said. "But you can never trust those witches in their spires. Tell me, Quinn, what is it that you ask in exchange for saving my son?"

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"Well," Quinn began. "It has always been our dream to invent a flying machine."

"I did not ask about your dream," the Primarch observed. "I have several flying machines in my army. It that what you want?"

"Not a balloon," Quinn said. "Sorry, I should have been more specific. My brother and I want to invent a machine with wings like a bird."

Maxius the Younger whispered something to his father, and the Primarch said: "Please leave us. I wish to discuss their reward in private." Silently, all of the soldiers, knights, priests, and servants shuffled out of the throne room. "I am intrigued by the idea," the Primarch continued. "This invention of yours, how much is it going to cost? What do you need?"

"Two auras," Quinn said. "For four years. Also, enough money to pay the tuition at the University of White Chasm. And perhaps enough money to pay for transportation to White Chasm as well."

"For what you ask, I could raise an army of ten thousand men," the Primarch said.

"It would change warfare forever," Quinn insisted. "It could be used to scout enemy formations."

"Father," Maxius the Younger said. "I don't like this."

"I know what I'm doing," the Primarch said. "Young men, how much do you know about the Elder Saint?"

"Not much," Seth admitted.

"I know a little bit," Quinn said. "But not any more than the average person. She is a witch. She killed the, um... the Charlatan King's daughter."

"That is the story told by the oculomancers," the Primarch said. "Annatiki Marunavi, the infamous Bloodraker, killed her father, the Charlatan King, on the Night of Red Lightning. Shortly thereafter, the Elder Saint somehow managed to kill the most powerful and dangerous witch in the world. As I get older, I find this story more and more difficult to believe. The Bloodraker had been driven insane by her father's magic, compelled onto a single-minded quest to subjugate her father's enemies. The Elder Saint, as far as I can tell, is also completely consumed with madness.

"I have so many questions. Why did ethermancy suddenly stop working as soon as Sullivan's armies arrived on my shores? And more troubling, why the hell was Kiera Blane able to heal my son?"

He pounded his fist on the throne's armrest.

"Has the Elder Saint taken a side?" the Primarch raged. "Is that what's happening? And why the hell did Lucia Aden have a pair of men in her employ, men who are trying to invent flying machines? Are you still working for her right now? Did she pay you to free my son?"

"We've never even met Lucia Aden," Seth snapped.

"Father, that would be impossible," Maxius the Younger said. "Lucia Aden doesn't know how our spies operate. If these men were her spies, then she would have killed both of them because of what they know."

"Ah," the Primarch said. "That is a very good argument. But, let us return to what Seth just said. If you boys didn't come here with Lucia Aden, then how did you get here? Why are you here in Renna?"

"We were in a traveling circus," Seth explained. "I'm the world-famous Flying Man."

"I have been to that circus, Father. I have seen this man fly on his little kite once before."

"You left the circus because of a lack of resources," the Primarch said.

"That's exactly right," Quinn said.

"So you went searching for a Heritor to acquire some auras."

"Yes."

"And you just happened to end up in Sullivan's camp."

"Yes."

"That seems like an extraordinarily fortunate turn of events," the Primarch said. "Tell me something, Seth. Do you find yourself often winning games of chance?"

"Yeah," Seth replied. "That happens all the time."

"Do you ever hear voices in your head?"

"Voices?" Quinn asked, dumbfounded. He looked at his brother and froze.

Seth's face was almost colorless, his face contorted with shock. "How do you know about that?" Seth rasped. "How could you know about that?"

"What are you talking about brother?"

"It was only one time," Seth explained. "Yes sir, Heritor Maxius, I did hear a voice in my head once. It was the very first time I flew. Her voice was delicate. A girl-child really. She commanded me to inspire them."

The Primarch nodded gravely. "I believe you. And this is not the first time in my life that I have heard of such a phenomenon. When we Heritors are first given our auras, we are forced to speak three oaths."

"Don't tell them about that!" Maxius the Younger hissed.

The Primarch silenced his son with a wave of his hand. "They are the Heritor Oaths, and they are always the same. Thou shalt not seek the witchstone. Thou shalt not enter into the Tombs of the Founders. And finally, thou shalt not craft a machine in the likeness of a bird. Our oaths mirror these commands, which were first dictated by the Elder Saint herself."

It took Quinn a moment to register what the man was saying. Then his heart sank.

"The first two commands make perfect sense. After all, it is believed that the witchstone creates more witches when it reaches its perihelion. So it would make sense that we should not seek it, for what it's worth."

"Are you telling us that you swore an oath not to help us?" Quinn said, interrupting the man's rambling.

"Indeed, but I would be willing to break that oath."

"Father, that is a terrible idea. What if you are forced to stand before an oculomancer?"

"The path to my dream passes through this moment," the Primarch said. "I have decided. I will give you what you ask for. I will even arrange for transportation to White Chasm on one of my ferry boats. And Maxius?"

"Yes father?"

"You will go with them."