Nothing about anything felt right, especially the world. Ainreth couldn’t believe he’d essentially broken up with Fenn, lost his position and was going home in one fell swoop.

He’d not wanted any of this. He didn’t truly care about losing his position in the army, but the rest of it….

Ainreth had had to hold back tears many times on the way over, and even though Petre had straight up told him it was okay if he wanted to cry, he refused. Not in front of them. He couldn’t just fall apart on the road. He’d leave that for when he was at home. Without Fenn there.

Ainreth took in a shuddering breath. He knew he could appeal to the Arbiter, that he’d most likely be let return to his position since Lys-Akkaria needs the Daybreaker, that he would get back to Fennrin relatively quickly so he could talk to him, apologize, even if he knew it was possible Fenn might not take him back. He just had to apologize because he couldn’t go on having Fennrin think that he’d meant those words.

And yet the days ahead seemed like they would last an eternity.

Even when they finally reached Kyr-Toryl, the time of his return to the battlefield seemed so far away. But as he and Petre trotted along listlessly up toward the palace and to Ainreth’s house, Ain noticed that something was off.

The atmosphere in the city seemed stifling, and tense. And sure, there had been tension before due to Orinovo threatening to attack. But that had been months ago. Ainreth would have thought that the people here would be in high spirits after their continuous victories.

They continued on, Ain making Sunray nearly gallop through the streets, wanting to report to the Arbiter and get this over with as soon as possible so he could go cry in his pillow. But unfortunately, right before reaching the palace, they had to stop, the streets full of people protesting something.

Ainreth frowned, nudging Sunray to take a turn through a dark alley, Petre right behind him as they try to get around the crowd.

“What do you think is going on?” Petre questions as they once again come across the crowd, going around it. Before Ain could even come up with some kind of theory, they were noticed, however.

“Daybreaker!” someone exclaimed, making Ainreth sigh and get off his horse, leading her to the people who were now inching toward him, making a crescent around him and Sunray.

Standing on his own two feet, the crowd looked even more impressive, everyone packed so tightly in the streets leading up to the palace that the place was nigh impossible to traverse. It made Ainreth almost uncomfortable, but his insides twisted at this for a different reason—dread.

“What’s going on here?” Ain asked, giving up on not getting involved in this. It had been a foolish struggle to begin with. The moment he’d get some energy back he would ask around what the problem was.

“We are protesting the war you are leading,” a man from the back yells, a few cries of agreement following.

Ainreth glared at him. “Why do you think I am here, you misborns? I was stripped of my rank. For refusing to fight anymore!”

His outburst caused a lot of gasping, only for everyone in the vicinity to go very quiet right after, their eyes shocked and wide.

And Ainreth glared at all of them, too angry to care anymore.

Sure, he’d technically lost his rank because he’d hit the leader of the country in the face, and not because he’d wanted to stop the fighting, but he stood by his words anyway.

“Please, you must try to convince the Courtiers to stop this madness,” another person said, this one right in front of him, an older, balding man. He was nearly pleading, a chorus of agreement following.

“Our children, our parents, they are dying for nothing,” another yelled, a storm of arguments following that made Ain blink.

He’d truly had no idea the support for their war effort was this low. There had to be hundreds of people, all here to express their distaste for it. It had just never occurred to him to think the commoners might not agree with it, just like him.

“I agree with you!” he yelled over all of the voices, sighing. “I need to talk with the Arbiter anyway. I will bring it up to them. Try to make them see sense.”

This seemed to be enough to placate the crowd a little, the people immediately moving to form a narrow space for Ain, Petre, and their horses to pass through.

Ainreth didn’t meet anyone’s gazes as they walked up the hill, nor did he listen to people talking to him or each other. He just kept his gaze trained on the palace and the towering, dormant volcano beyond.

He had only ever interacted with the Arbiter once, and it had not been very pleasant. And that had been as a witness to a crime committed by one of his soldiers.

Being the criminal this time would certainly change things, but punching Varilik in his smug face was worth it. If he could go back, he’d do it again, probably more than once. The only thing he regretted was the way he’d acted to Fenn.

Ain and Petre finally made it to the palace, immediately noticed by the polearm-wielding guards—about ten of them—keeping all the protesters back. The captain of the guard, having a fully red cape instead of a white one with a red trim like the others, nodded at Ainreth.

“Welcome back, sir,” she said, reaching out her arm to take Sunray’s reins, jerking her head to the guard next to her to do the same with Petre’s horse.

“Not sir right now,” Ain said, shrugging. “Is this new, or…?”

The captain sighed, running her eyes over the protesting crowd. “Relatively speaking. We will take care of your horses. I assume you have business in the palace?”

Ainreth sighed, his shoulders sinking as he patted Sunray’s side. “Yes. With the Arbiter.”

The captain frowned but nodded, moving aside to let him and Petre through, Ainreth climbing up the steps to the entrance, not looking back. He had to get this over with now. He needed this to be done this very instant or he would explode.

The guards at the palace gate opened it for him without a word, letting him and Petre pass. Ainreth barely gave any of this any thought, too lost in his own mind to do much more than notice the guards until they were actually inside.

That was when he noticed how full of people the whole place seemed. There were people walking around, going up and down the stairs and corridors all around, rushing to go one way or the other, and no one seemed very happy, frowning and tense.

The atmosphere here seemed to match the rest of Kyr-Toryl, except no one here was protesting. Instead they seemed to be so focused on their tasks that they were barely talking to each other.

“Surely the Herald and Bulwark know about this situation,” Petre muttered from where they were standing next to Ainreth, also staring at the people around them.

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Ain shrugged, not really wanting to think about that either. “Varilik, I could see ignoring it. But the Bulwark? No.”

Petre nodded, silently taking the lead, which Ainreth was very grateful for because he had no idea where the Arbiter’s study was at all. The only place he could find in here was the Bulwark’s, and even then he might have gotten it wrong despite having gone there dozens of times. The entire palace was impossible to navigate, in his opinion.

Petre had no such issue, however, taking turns and walking quickly with no hesitation. And surely enough, after a long climb up some carpet-covered steps, they stood in front of the Arbiter’s study.

The dark, wooden door said the Arbiter’s name on it in a golden frame, which was the only reason Ainreth could tell. Because he could barely recognize the door or its vicinity.

Knocking on the door with all the enthusiasm of a dying man, Ainreth waited for the Arbiter to call him inside with clenched teeth, trying to stay as civil as possible. It would be hard enough dealing with the Arbiter—he didn’t need to make it worse by being his usual disrespectful self.

“Come in,” the Arbiter’s muffled voice came from behind the door, Ain immediately pulling the door open, pausing for a moment when he saw the Courtier.

The Arbiter’s blond short hair looked mussed up and sticking out at many angles, as if they woke up this morning and never combed their hair. It made Ainreth blink because he wasn’t used to this at all. Of all the Courtiers, Iryn Mar-Ethen was the most likely to look their best at all times.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ainreth Tyr-Naralyn himself,” the Arbiter said, smirking like they usually would, except for the spark missing from their eyes.

Ainreth tried not to frown at this as he pulled out the sealed letter he was supposed to deliver to the Arbiter, but they just raised their hand, pointing at the chair in front of their desk.

As Ainreth walked to it to sit down, only then he noticed in how much disarray the study was. Open and closed books and parchment covered up the entirety of Mar-Ethen’s desk, some of it on the floor as well. Not that Ain had thought the Arbiter was very neat and tidy but this was a bit extreme.

“Everything okay in here?” Ainreth asked as he sat down, Petre standing next to him silently.

“You know it isn’t,” Mar-Ethan deadpanned, rolling their eyes. “You’ve seen the crowd outside. Everyone kept coming in here to file their complaints to my deputies or even me directly because blighted Varilik isn’t here, damn him. We had to close the door, figuratively. And literally.”

Ainreth frowned, not sure what this all meant. “So the people here want us to go home? Why have I not heard about this?” He looked at Petre to confirm that they hadn’t either. Petre just shrugged, also looking a little confused.

“I sent word to Varilik and Tysalin,” the Arbiter said, sighing. They had quite prominent dark circles under their eyes, which Ain was only now noticing. “But only a few days ago, when we had to take action. You being here is not going to do us any favors. I hope you didn’t tell anyone what happened?”

Ainreth grimaced, but before he could reply, the Mar-Ethan waved their hand. “It doesn’t matter. People will figure out some version of the truth anyway. I just….” The Arbiter sighed, rubbing their temples. “I approve of anyone breaking that misborn’s nose. But why did you have to do it now?”

Ainreth blinked, shocked by the casual way Mar-Ethan was talking about physical harm to the High Herald, but he was immensely glad that the Arbiter seemed to hate Varilik quite a lot.

“I’ve been resisting it for months and fantasizing about it for years,” Ain grumbled. From his peripheral vision, he could see Petre shaking their head, but he said nothing about it.

“Be that as it may, you made a mess of things,” Mar-Ethan said, huffing a little. “I already have enough paperwork to deal with.”

Now it was Ainreth’s turn to roll his eyes. Of course that was the only thing the Arbiter cared about. “Well, excuse me for making your job difficult. I lost mine, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t celebrate yet, Daybreaker,” Mar-Ethan replied, raising an eyebrow. “Give me the thing.”

Ainreth frowned at the way the Arbiter rubbed their fingers together in a give it to me gesture, only to realize that they meant the letter. Mar-Ethan cracked the seal open carelessly as soon as they were holding it in their hand, unfolding the letter and staring down at it critically, shaking their head.

“Unprovoked, aggravated assault against the High Herald,” Mar-Ethan read, snorting. “Truly. Though somehow I have doubts about the unprovoked part.”

Ainreth huffed at the raised eyebrow, feeling a little offended. “It was definitely provoked.”

The Arbiter nodded their head side to side. “Hm, fair. Varilik provokes by his very existence.” They snorted as they grabbed a blank piece of parchment along with a quill, starting to write on it. “Do you regret it?”

“No.”

The Arbiter burst out laughing while Petre shot Ain an annoyed look. And yes, Ainreth did feel a little bad for being so honest, but he couldn’t lie in this case. It would simply be a lie he could not stomach.

“Fair, also,” Mar-Ethan said, continuing to scribble in their tiny, barely legible handwriting. “Now, I’m afraid you will have to stay here for a bit to sell this as a punishment. Varilik will throw a fit otherwise.”

Ainreth huffed again. He knew this had been coming, but he was still annoyed. He wanted to get back to Fennrin as soon as possible. Maybe he should send him a letter? Try to make amends that way.

“Maybe stay in Kyr-Toryl for a bit and try to inspire the people? That is your thing after all, no?” the Arbiter suggested, raising an eyebrow again.

Ainreth shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t expect me to try to convince them that this war is a good idea.”

Ainreth could feel Petre’s eyes on him, but neither of them said anything, Ain focusing solely on the Arbiter.

“You cannot seriously sit here and tell me the fact that Orinovo is capable of creating az-ari soldiers is not a disaster waiting to happen.”

Ain sighed. It was, he knew that. But it didn’t seem worth what they were doing. Laying siege to half of Orinovo? Grabbing territory as they went?

“We can’t know if they will ever manage to create a shadowforger or a lightweaver,” he replied, but he knew the argument was a weak one. They were operating on what ifs, but they were both of equal measure.

“Yes. But they might. And therein lies the problem.” The Arbiter shrugged and added in a mutter: “Not to mention that the sea access would not hurt.”

“You are in support of this,” Ainreth said as accusingly as possible, scowling, to which the Arbiter rolled their eyes.

“Not particularly,” they replied, an offended frown pinching their expression. “But if this must happen, it is a bonus. Being cut off from the rest of the world the way Lys-Akkaria has been has made things much more difficult than they should be.”

Ain shook his head. He couldn’t believe this person was talking about pointless conquest like this. But then again, Mar-Ethan had been chosen as the Arbiter particularly for their skillful solutions.

They might have not always come up with the most honorable ones, but they were very pragmatic and effective, and the people who had voted for them must have seen it.

“With all due respect, Courtier,” said Petre, clearing their throat. “Human life pointlessly wasted is a much bigger issue than being landlocked.”

The Arbiter just shrugged. “And this is why you are not the Arbiter of Law, little soldier.”

Petre narrowed their eyes at him, and Ainreth immediately wanted to defend them, but Mar-Ethan spoke before he could, loudly signing the parchment they’d been working on the entire time.

“Now, sign this,” they said, turning the parchment over to him. Ainreth wanted to read what it was, but after the trip over here he barely took in two words before giving up and just taking the Arbiter’s quill, adding his signature next to theirs.

“Perfect. Now, it’s getting late. Get some rest,” Mar-Ethan said, wrinkling their nose. “And a bath, ideally.”

Ainreth frowned, opening his mouth to voice his offended feelings, only to remember that yes, he’d been traveling for days. He did need a bath.

“I will see you here tomorrow in….” Mar-Ethan took a critical look at him. “In the afternoon, probably. You look very tired.”

Ainreth snorted, nodding with an ironic grin on his face. “Yes, you could say that.”

The Arbiter made dismissive motion with their hand. “Go home, get some rest. I will see you tomorrow.”

Ainreth got up, sighing, and with a nod at the Arbiter and then Petre walked to the door. He almost felt strange when he was allowed to just leave, the Arbiter not stopping him at the last moment with some horrible detail they forgot to mention.

Neither of them said anything until they were out, walking past the crowd that was still protesting outside and heading to Ain’s house.

“Whatever happens, I am with you. You know that, right, Ain?” Petre said, finally breaking the silence as they reached Ain’s house.

Ainreth felt his eyes sting as his heart clenched, but he just blinked them away. “Yeah. Yes. Thanks, Petre. It means a lot.”

Petre smiled at him—a small smile, but an encouraging one nonetheless.

And then Petre hugged him.

Ainreth blinked, but he automatically put his arms around Petre’s smaller frame, smiling even as his eyes stung.

“It will be okay,” Petre said, letting go after a moment long, nodding at Ainreth. “We should both get some sleep.”

Ain nodded, sniffling a little, trying very hard to pretend his eyes aren’t full of tears. “Y-yeah. Good idea. See you in the morning.”

Petre nodded, a worried glint in their eyes but they just waved their goodbye and walked off without another word, frowning deep in thought. Ainreth watched them leave, letting out a deep sigh.

He needed to get drunk. Drunk enough that he could sleep with all these thoughts swirling in his head, keeping him anxious and awake.

With that and a deep breath, he walked to his door, unlocking it. He would worry about all his troubles tomorrow.