“…. Viceroy Alexandria has made it clear that any acts by the crown to her southern border or its allies in the north will be deemed as acts of aggression and that until a proper investigation is performed, she will deny all attempts at requests to extradite citizens of interest. Of particular note is former famed Adventurer Zero, pseudonym “The Flowing Blade,” who vanished after a dubious quest several years prior. With recent events and the resurfacing of said adventurer, details had appeared that the once unknown adventurer had ties with a political faction within Haerasong known as ‘Nochesuki,’ a firmly pro-magic faction that has oft been known to be at odds with the royal crown and their allies. What is less known of the group Nochesuki is the history of a supposed militaristic branch of their faction, which, while never officially acknowledged, has been suggested to be the culprit behind numerous acts of violence and disruption throughout the country’s history. Alongside connections to the political faction Nochesuki, the adventurer Zero was revealed to be none other than a member of the Baster family, a self-proclaimed…”

I put the newspaper down, gently pinching the bridge of my nose as I forced myself to slow my breathing, else risk anxiety consuming me.

“Oh, Rook, what did you get yourself involved with?” I murmured, eyes skimming through the headline article again as if the contents would somehow change by reading it over.

“Oh, Asalyn, I was looking for you. Father wanted to… Something wrong?”

I glanced over my shoulder as my younger brother walked into the kitchen of our personal building, reserved for immediate family only. Every time I saw him, it made me wince lightly, not that my brother had ever done anything wrong to me. Still, his face reminded me of Rook, if Rook had only the genetic expression of my side of the family.

Not like I ever met his father’s family, for that matter.

I cast aside the thought. His father had been an orphan; it was part of why I’d been drawn to him. He was so much my opposite in so many ways that our conversations could go on for hours, our backgrounds so very different there was never an end of things to debate or share.

“Asalyn?”

I snapped out of my thoughts. While I’d long gotten over Naqala’s death, I would still think of him over twenty years later, like he were about to walk through the door at any moment.

“What is it?” I asked as he stood next to where I was seated.

“I was asking what’s wrong. You’ve got that face again.”

Instead of responding, I handed the newspaper over. I saw his eyebrows scrunched together for several seconds, reading through as quickly as he could before putting the paper down, a smile on his face.

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“Took long enough. How long have we been sending correspondence with Nochesuki, and only now does it seem like things are coming to a front?”

“Not the point, Aerian. Keep reading.”

Raising an eyebrow at me, Aerian glanced back down the page, reading through until he reached the end, a surprised huff escaping him.

“Isn’t that your son?”

“Yes.” I groaned. “And he’s gotten himself into a hell of a mess.”

“The kid has some spunk to him!” Aerian was laughing, a cheerful smile, until he noticed the glare I was directing his way. “Err, I mean-”

“I specifically didn’t want him involved in this sort of stuff. Why do you think I stayed in Haerasong for years, even after giving birth to him?”

“To avoid Dad?”

“That too.” I returned to pinching my nose, praying this was all some delusional episode I had spontaneously undergone.

“I’m surprised the kid has a connection to Nochesuki. Maybe our blood runs too strong, eh?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s a coincidence. He met Imako in the area after I’d left to return home, who was only there for entirely separate reasons.”

I avoided mentioning precisely what those reasons were, things my son had told me in confidence that were still hard to believe even now.

“Hah, talk about a piece of work to be the one to meet.” Aerian snorted. “So you think your son will be on his way here?”

“I pray not.” I sighed. “He’s not ready to deal with father.”

“You think so?” Aerian questioned. “Your son did a rather good job embarrassing the royals not long ago. After all, he bested one of their trained dogs in one one-on-one combat. With that much pure combat prowess, father would be forced to consider what he said or wanted, maybe more than the rest of the family.”

“That’s not why. He hasn’t grown up around this; he doesn’t know how we work.”

“If you say so.” Aerian shrugged. “Either way, ‘War in Haerasong?’ Is quite the headline.”

“How long until you think it goes hot?” I asked my brother, shifting my mind from the worries of my son to thoughts of what we’d been helping to prepare for.

“Ehh, first we got to go through the beginning stages where both sides jockey for the support of the public masses, then once either they’re satisfied that they have support for an easy win, or summarize that there is nothing left to gain, we’ll probably see the first battle break out. I give it three to four weeks, max.”

“Hmmm,” I muttered, thinking about it before cocking a smile at my brother. “Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Aerian whistled. “Aren’t you an optimist?”

“I know the people of Haeasong better than you. They’re not the best at seeing eye to eye. Furthermore, Alexandira is already angeling to propose that the crown is trying to frame innocent citizens.”

“If you say so,” Aerian answered. “Anyway, I only came by because Father wanted to speak with you.”

“Wonderful.” I groaned. “What for?”

“He’s sending you for a quick stop in Thlazae.”

“Quick stop? Thlazae is a two-month trip one way!”

“His words, not mine.” Aerian shrugged. “Anyway, it is not my place to discuss, not like I know anything else. I was only sent to inform you. You can discuss it with Father if you want to know more.”

“Fine.” I stood up, rubbing at my forearms, the bands I was wearing jangling as I did. “I’ll see if he can’t send someone else.”

“Why?” Aerian questioned as I began to walk past him, intending to track down my father, who was more than likely in the main hall of the central building within our complex.

“Because,” I stopped to point at the newspaper in his hand. “I have a feeling I’ll want to head somewhere else soon.”