The tragic story of Ania Rose and Thistle Moondaughter was one of those things where Larry C.C. Weis had taken a traditional (albeit with the same gender) fantasy romance then horribly subverted it. Ania Rose had escaped the capital with Piotr Emberly, only for their group to be ambushed and her life to be spared by the elvish guerillas who'd carried out the attack. These had been the Dark Moon Elves, a group of female ninjas that had been carrying out a guerilla war against the humans of Ledziania for centuries.

Ledziania's relationship with the elves was reminiscent of many native peoples struggling against newer arrivals: which was to say rough. The elves weren't the immortal graceful heroes of Tolkien's fiction but a bunch of disgruntled hippies with bows. They refused to acknowledge the feudal system of humans and the elves' attempts to drive mankind out of the region failed utterly. Present-day humanity wanted to expand further into elvish territory to make farmland out of their forests, which only deepened the hostility between the species.

It was easy to see the elves as the unquestioned good guys in this, but Weis' handling of the subject was a bit more nuanced. As Garland said, "Being oppressed doesn't make you a saint, it just makes you oppressed." The elves had launched countless terrorist campaigns over the years against mostly innocent villagers who had often not even been born when their land had been settled. The elves also routinely broke any agreements that they made with humans and regularly lied about the provocations.

Perhaps the worst example of this was the Old King, Frederick, who had attempted to finally work out a treaty that recognized the Great Forest as a permanent elvish kingdom. He'd ended up assassinated by the Dark Moon Elves who had hoped to trigger a civil war. Well, that had worked, but it had also triggered reprisals against all the elves living outside of the Great Forest. Even the Dragon Queen refused to deal with the Dark Moon Elves and championed integration over separatism. You know, typical fantasy stuff.

Very Dragon Age.

Perhaps because of her age or maybe because they sensed her divine heritage, the Dark Moon Elves spared Ania and turned her into one of them. Ania fell in love with her mentor, Thistle, and the two became intimate despite the age as well as power differential. As mean as Ania could be to me, Thistle had been even worse, but it was a relationship that had lasted more than a year. Right up until Jorg the Bastard Knight tracked down the team of assassins, tortured them for the murder of his father, and then executed each before Ania's eyes. From Ania's POV, she thought she escaped with a cunning plan, but Jorg's chapters made it clear he'd let her go since she hadn't been involved in killing King Frederick and he felt guilty for his part in the Rose family's murder.

Now Thistle was there.

Alive.

Of all the reactions I expected from seeing a loved one brought back from the dead, the one Ania displayed wasn't one I expected. Instead of hugging her, kissing her, or just staring in numb shock, she pulled out Lightbringer and aimed it right at the elf maid's face. "Back the hell up!"

"Ania? Is it truly you--" Thistle asked.

"I said back the hell up!" Ania shouted.

"Lady Ania Rose?" Ivan said, speaking in an aristocratic and erudite fashion unlike virtually everyone else in Ledziania. "I must confess I didn't expect you to be the one who rescued us? Nor you, Lady Agata, for which I offer my sincerest condolences for being unable to do my husbandly duties of protecting from the vile Radu. I see you are now a Priestess of Mokosh, which means that our lack of consumm--"

"Back up," Agata said, lifting her staff's tip to him. "I hold no grievance against you, Prince Ivan, but if my sister wishes you dead then I will be the one to end you."

"Oh dear," Ivan said, backing away.

Thistle looked heartbroken by Ania's reaction.

"Stranger, could you please keep my companions from being murdered," Joan asked, looking at me.

"Aaron, Aaron Bartkowski," I introduced myself. "I'll try but I should point out that it's easier to handle an adolescent dragon than these two."

"Hi!" Sparky said to the miniature pope.

Spotting the corgi for the first time, Joan's eyes widened, and she walked over as if pulled by an irresistible force and picked up the dog to cuddle. "Please, Lady Roses, I beg of you. Ranger Thistle and Prince Ivan are my companions. They were working with me to try to stop the war in Ledziania."

"Thistle is dead!" Ania said, not moving her eyes from her former lover. "I saw her get her head sawn off by the Bastard Knight. Do you know who comes back from the dead? Servants of Veles! So, you're either an imposter or made a deal with the Demon Dragon King."

"Veles is a bad dragon," Sparky said, getting his ears scratched and panting. "So is Mat Zemlya. I prefer the Great Sky Dragon even if he's dead. He appears as a giant platinum dragon."

"Seriously, did Weis just sit down with Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson before stealing everything?" Jon asked.

As much as I wanted to discuss the fact that TSR may have had access to this world and the secrets of the cosmos, I was more interested in stopping a murder. "Ania, we may want to ask a few questions before we get to the murder."

"I'll be over here," Bloodstorm said, looking through some chests he'd found in the hidden prison. "I don't care if we kill them or not. The only one we're being paid to bring back is the Mythran girl. Wait, we are being paid, right?"

I paused. "I'll have to check the interface. Sometimes we get paid by quest givers and sometimes we get paid by coins magically appearing in my bag of holding."

It wasn't actually a bag of holding but my interface directly. It could store all our coinage and a substantial amount of the equipment we carried but didn't affect the weight of things like the armor or weapons I had equipped. In other words, it worked like Eldritch Ring where you could have 173 swords in storage but had to worry about what you had on.

"Neat trick," Bloodstorm said, picking a large Catholic-looking high priest's hat from one of the chests.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"That's mine," Joan said, scurrying over to Bloodstorm's side and putting it on with one hand. It just made her look even more adorable as anime girl pope. She also picked up a solar disc tipped staff from the treasure chest, one that absolutely couldn't have fit inside it, and looked like a combination of magical girl and bishop. Which Jon would probably say was somebody's fetish.

Yuck.

"Death is a door that opens both ways," Thistle said, speaking with her thick throaty elvish accent. Which was, weirdly, more Eastern European than anything I'd heard from the actual Slavs. We were talking full on Natasha Fatale here. "How can you doubt that it is the case when your brother, Garland, is here, right now?"

"That's not Garland," Ivan said, dryly. "He's one of the Imposters."

"Ah, one of them." Thistle sneered in disgust. "I'm surprised you could even stand to be in their presence."

That was not the right thing to say to Ania as her expression turned homicidal. Well, more homicidal. "Aaron is my ke'tar. Something I never pledged to you or Garland. Say another word about him other than thanks for saving you and your companions' lives and I will end you."

"You're her keytar?" Jon asked. "I haven't seen one of those since the last time I watched Forgotten Eighties Crap on Epic Prime."

It meant soul companion. Given Ania's earlier treatment of our relationship, denying it even existed, it was going from zero to sixty. "Really? I'm your ke'tar?"

Elves didn't practice monogamy in Weis' world so the closest thing they had to acknowledging they loved someone was proclaiming them their ke'tar. It was a basically a vow of devotion and not done lightly among the oath-obsessed race. Ania spitting it out there, however motivated by her ex's arrival, was a big deal.

"Shut up, Aaron," Ania said, looking briefly embarrassed. There was even a flash of red on her cheeks.

"Are you sure you two aren't married?" Jon asked, looking between us. "I'm getting serious flashbacks from my parents. No, wait, that would require my parents to actually like one another."

"Ania, that is not an oath to make lightly," Thistle said.

"Do not speak my name as you have a right to," Ania said. "I stand by my words."

"Now is the winter of our discontent," Ivan said, quoting Shakespeare. " Made glorious summer by this sun of Piast; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house; In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"I'm quoting the other Outworlder I know," Ivan said, pulling out a rune-covered monocle and putting it over one eye. I could feel the spell of CHARM PERSON wafting over my consciousness but this time it didn't work on me, perhaps because of the enhancements to my willpower. "The fact is that Thistle has been brought back from the dead and she was reanimated, indeed, by the Dark Lord. However, our dearest pontifex maximus here, has managed to sever her connection to the hated Dragon God."

"Hey!" Sparky said.

"Do not try your mind games on us, Prince of Lies," Ania said, clearly not affected by the monocle's magic any more than I was.

"I prefer to deceive with the truth," Ivan said, folding his hands. "But Joan's magic did help, and it was by her hand that I was kept from the hands of the Emperor's executioners. It is her hope that we shall be able to thwart the manipulations of Archchancellor Selev."

He was referring to the fact Veles' avatar was working in the Imperial Royal Court and apparently doing a better job than the Emperor. Yes, the name was just an anagram of Veles. Apparently, being a god of evil didn't make you original or innovative.

"Do not harm him, sister," Agata said, reaching up to put her hand on Ania's shoulder. "Ivan Crookback's family has ever been a source of pain and misery to this family, but he was always kind to me when there was nothing to gain by doing so. Ivan is no eviler than our queen. Our former queen."

"Do you mean my sister the mad or my sister the dragon?" Ivan asked.

"I regret to inform you, the Dragon Queen is dead," I replied. "The one in Kalizov is an imposter. We were actually sent here to rescue Joan because we wanted to make her the new queen of Ledziania."

"You wanted to what now?" Joan asked, looking up. "I don't think I can be both Holy Father of Mythras and ruler of an earthly kingdom."

"Technically, the Papal States say otherwise," I replied. "Also, I'm pretty sure Mythras would make an exception for you on this."

I wasn't sure the people of Ledziania would be any more inclined to accept a priestess of a foreign god than they'd been a woman who turns into a dragon regularly, but it wasn't like the Mad Queen offered much in the way of an alternative.

"Huh," Joan said. "You have a point."

"My cursed sister is dead?" Ivan asked, shocked. He looked genuinely heartbroken, which surprised me.

Jon looked at Ivan. "No, what we're saying is the Dragon Queen is dead and there's an imposter carrying on in her place. Possibly someone Aaron and I know. Aaron's girlfriend's ex is back from the dead. His brother is evil. A dead god is trying to take over his body. We're running out of time until it becomes impossible to save the world. Also, I'm pretty sure the giant blind redheaded swordswoman chick wants to bang him to death."

"So, normal Tuesday," I added my feelings on the subject. Since I’d taken up the Blades of Chernabog, I’d developed a mean streak I was struggling to control. The thing was, it felt good to let loose some of the irritation I’d been feeling. My calm was gone but I felt stronger. More powerful.

Cooler.

Ivan stared at us. "Huh."

"Huh?" I asked.

Ivan shrugged. "I'm sorry, the last time I heard anything like that, it was from Garland. I suppose we have a steel rose instead of a black rose. Not the real thing but just as good an imitation as we're going to get."

"Steel Rose makes me sound like I'm fronting a hair metal band from the Eighties," I said, pausing to note that that qualifier probably wasn't necessary. It wasn't like there were many hair metal bands afterward unless we were counting Finland.

"Yeah, it's awesome," Jon said. "I am so jealous."

"Ania, you can lower your bow now," I said, looking at her.

"Can I?" Ania asked, staring death at the prince and her former lover. "Can I really?"

"Yes?" I offered.

Ania sighed and lowered her bow. "Fine."

"If the Dragon Queen is dead, there's no debate," Thistle said. "We have to go to the Great Forest next."

I felt like I was back playing World of Warcraft during the "classic" years and two guilds were trying to coordinate. Clearly, there were other people trying to "save the world" and attempting to pull it off without Weis or his allies. Unfortunately, that didn't fill me with a sense of confidence since it was obvious they'd be dead or worse without us.

"Could someone explain what's going on?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"We are, to people who matter," Thistle said, clearly not liking me.

I had to admit, it influenced me. That and the fact she was pretty punk as well as an elf. Two great tastes you didn't commonly see together,

Death. Pain. Suffering. She is one of the Old Blood and sustained by the life of others like me. Do not trust her.

Shut up, swords.

I shook my ogling away since, well, I had enough incredibly hot dangerous women in my life. They weren't like Pokemon to collect.

Or Pwiffle cards.

…

Dammit.

"Our group, which once numbered fifteen, was torn between two goals," Joan said, stepping in. "Prince Ivan wanted to take me down to the siege of Kalizov to confront his sister. He believes that she is possessed by dark forces and in the thrall of her evil demigod son's power."

"Cesare is the son of the Devil," Ivan said. "I know it's unbelievable..."

He trailed off as he looked at our group. I suspect one look was enough to get him to reevaluate our credulity, especially after we just got done slaying the Lord of the Vampyres.

"Right, nevermind," Ivan said.

"The other option is to head to the Great Forest to prevent the crowning of First Ranger Rhoeas as queen of the elves," Joan said.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Bloodstorm asked, just wanting to be clear.

"Because the elves have no queen or king or any nobility," Ania said, coldly. "Rhoeas is Thistle's sister and was the woman who betrayed us to the Bastard Knight. If she is going to be queen, it is because she plans to submit the elves to the Mad Queen and the Empire."

"All of those who would raise a voice against her have been killed by the Dragon God’s new agent," Thistle said. "A renegade Dark Undermaster with all of Garland's talents named Alek."

Everyone in my party exchanged a look.

I paused. "Goddammit."

Well, that decided where we were going next.