Chapter 9 - Funeral

A spotless sky greeted the royal convoy upon their arrival to Metsiphon. The atmosphere of the city, however, was anything but bright. Citizens went about their daily activities with the somber expressions of tired and grey undertakers. Not even the sight of the queen could change that. The streets cleared, allowing the convoy to pass. People bowed towards the royal carriage. Their dreary eyes were further shadowed. The lady of the city, the sheltering veil of her people, had been taken away from them, leaving their grieI'dving hearts to blister under an unhindered sun.

Sar'tara was known not only for her combat prowess, but her generosity as well. Bards and historians sung her praises. Children looked up to her. She was known to roam Metsiphon's streets, handing out aid where it was needed. Multiple orphanages were established in her name. Underground guilds had been purged. Criminals shivered in the narrowest of crevices. The city thrived. All because of her unwavering resolve and fierce persona. The city, near equivalent in size to Exaltyron, shined greater than the capital. A truly remarkable achievement of which Dahlia was jealous.

Dahlia had tried replicating Sar'tara's methods, but found it difficult to do so. A queen had many enemies outside of her palace grounds and Dahlia wasn't nearly as charismatic as the duchess. Despite being an outsider, Sar'tara had so easily captured the hearts of her subjects. Something she was adept at, Dahlia thought. Even the iron shell that was Kalin's heart had cracked before her.

Dahlia smiled, staring out her carriage window and reminiscing about the times she had walked these wide lanes with a curious and naïve Sar'tara. A woman who at one point was completely ignorant to any sense of shame or even common sense. Their lives were completely different. Dahlia had her hands tied with managing courtly affairs whereas as Sar'tara didn't care for such responsibilities at all. It'd been nothing short of a miracle that the lesser nobles of Metsiphon did not seem to cause any trouble. There were questions at first. Questions about The Huntress' origins, her lineage, and her character. Accusations of her being a cunning courtesan and nothing more.

Sar'tara was cunning, that much was certain. As cunning as hunters come. That part of her was reserved for the battlefield. Rumormongers and slanderers, she thrashed. Not with words, but with fists. Infamous though her reputation was amongst the noble kith, what mattered to her was the place she'd earned in her subjects' hearts. Soon, none spoke ill of Sar'tara in public spaces, fearing both physical retaliation, and economic sanctions from both the duke, and the crown.

There was much more about Sar'tara of which Dahlia was jealous. The duchess was strong of both mind and heart. The sole survivor of an ethnic cleansing. A survivor of the Papillion Forest. She had described it as a beautiful forest lush with glowing flora of many colors.

The Vashiri tribeswomen —Sar'tara's people— had intentionally lived outside of civilization, guarding and caring for a 'forest deity' who possessed powerful magical Artifacts. Their isolation worked against them. Centuries left alone allowed rumors to rise. Rumors of the unexplored forest, from wherein any and all travelers died before setting a single foot inside, hiding darkspawn. The Astral Union acted upon these rumors and burnt the forest down, taking the Artifacts for themselves and labelling the torched remains 'Alcor's Ashes'.

Dahlia despised the Union. An organization owing allegiance to no nation state. Their base was the Thousand Sun City. A militarised city with impeccable fortifications and a professional army that would rival even Tarmia's numbers. Only recently did Dahlia learn the city stood atop vast gold veins. She had always been perplexed by how a single city fed some two million citizens. Her spies seldom had a hard time entering the city —any and all able bodies were welcome and put to work. They did however have difficulty leaving alive or even sending messages.

The Astral Union justified their existence through a single mission; the eradication of all darkspawn and servants of the Tortured Throne. Remnants of High House Zz'tai, Shadow Walkers, and the Vampires of the Kal'Kar mountains were amongst the beings that they viewed as evil. They had spies everywhere and frequently sent inquisition legions to patrol their neighboring nations. And there was nothing both Xenaria and Tarmia could do in response.

Sar'tara often spoke of vengeance. With time, her fiery gaze had dimmed and her harsh words had become a whisper. She eventually came to realize the impossibility of her vengeance. The Sun City's walls could not be sieged. Yet, she never forgot. She continued to search for a weakness that could be exploited. Continued sending letters, asking Dahlia questions about sieging methods and their economic plausibility.

And now, she was gone, her one true goal gone with her. One of Dahlia's most beloved friends. Her remains had been brought to Metsiphon. The funeral was to be held later in the evening with Dahlia present. The royal convoy had ridden hard to arrive on time. Sar'tara would be buried in House Serene's crypt.

The courtyard before Kalin's mansion was a mix of bright harvest season colors. Trees organized in a line and kept trimmed to seem like a wall of standing sentries, their rank distinguished by color and their sorrow spread about before their roots as gentle breezes caused them to shed leaves.

Kalin was waiting before his mansion to receive the convoy. "Your Majesty," he said with a formal bow as she took Eildred's hand and stepped down from her carriage. Sir Radis Draumen was also with Kalin.

"Lord Serene," Dahlia said with an acknowledging nod. He was nothing like she remembered. They'd known each other since they were children. Dahlia had at one point been infatuated with a younger Kalin. He always carried himself with pride, embodying his ideal vision of a noble and a House Lord. He had a spirit to rival the king of beasts, as his father, Sialin, was said to have had before him. His height peaked just below six and a half feet. A towering figure now known by the people as Xenaria's Shining General. A pillar of the nation.

A pillar with cracked foundations and on the verge of collapse as if tormented by years of weathering and abandonment. A ruin.

His back that was always straight was now slightly hunched, broad shoulders slumped forward, brows slanted down and lips kept in a thin line. If he was even the slightest bit angry or hungering for revenge, Dahlia could not see it. She was shorter than him but he reminded her of a wounded cub. This was the first she had ever seen the duke in such a pitiful state. "I trust my daughter is well?" she asked as they entered the mansion.

"Yes. She's upstairs with the Second Princess. Your Majesty, if it isn't—"

"You can call me by my name, Kalin. You know that."

"Dahlia… could you sing for Tara? I don't exactly have the voice and no other Serene member from the main family is alive."

Of course, and Kalin would never allow branch members of House Serene near his wife's grave lest they slander and curse a dead person. "Yes. She was dear to me as well," Dahlia said, bottling her own emotions to keep her composure.

"Thank you," Kalin said, voice haggard as if he'd spent sleepless nights crying.

Eildred had the Royal Guard position themselves outside of the mansion, creating a perimeter of black-armored guards. A servant led Dahlia upstairs to Elizia's chambers. She found the girl bedridden. Emeria and Azurus were with her, caring for her at her bedside. "Your Majesty," the young knight said as he got down on one knee.

"What happened to the Second Princess?" Dahlia questioned.

"She spent an entire night outside firing arrows nonstop. She came down with a fever not long after. It's been a few days already," Emeria said.

Dahlia placed her hand on Elizia's forehead. It was hot. The girl had a lighter tone than her mother, but the rest of her features looked very much like Sar'tara. A few years older, and it would be easy to mistake her as her mother. She opened her eyes briefly and gave a weak smile. "Rest child," Dahlia said, feeling a pang of pain upon seeing Sar'tara's image within Elizia. "We will lay your mother to rest today. I'll sing the Song of Eagles for her. She will be remembered in our hearts." Elizia's eyes closed again. Dahlia turned to her own daughter, giving a stern glare. "I had asked for you to be at the capital many days ago."

"Mother, about that…"

"Save your excuses, Emma. It is well you were with Elizia during this time. She needs caring. You may stay by her side for a while longer or you can attend the funeral. I'll leave that decision to you. But please, do not disobey my orders again."

"Yes mother."

"And you, Azurus. You were chosen to be my daughter's knight because your talent with the blade is only second to Sir Aegis. Do not forget that your ultimate fealty is to me and not Emma. If she refuses to obey me, it is in your right to force her obedience. I don't care if you bring her to me in a burlap sack. Next time something occurs, I'll have someone take your place as Emeria's knight. Am I understood?"

"Yes Your Majesty," Azurus said, head down and still on one knee.

Dahlia wished there was something more she could have done for Elizia as she left the bedchamber. She felt as if it was her responsibility. Had she known of the girl's condition, she could have brought along a Healer from the Order of Trillia. Healers were those born with a rare gift —said to be one in a hundred thousand— and the Trillian temples had gathered most with the talent under their umbrella. Though, that may have only helped with Healing Elizia's torn hands. Those born with the gift of Healing were only capable of treating wounds and fatigue.

Dahlia uttered silent prayers to the Creator and the Flames for Elizia's quick recovery. She hoped the girl hadn't been infected with any diseases. Memories of her husband's passing surfaced at the thought. She chewed on her nails as she walked down the illuminated halls of the manse. Kalin would have his best physics treating his daughter. There was no reason to worry.

Evening came too quickly. Sar'tara's body was placed in a wooden casket and carried into the crypts by soldiers dressed in dark coats. Members of her personal unit. They'd requested to be the ones to bury her.

Kalin walked alongside Dahlia at the head of the pallbearers. Her black dress dragged along the dirt floor. She took in the image of Sar'tara's peaceful face before a heavy white cloth had been placed over the body. Her cheeks had sunken slightly, but she was still just as beautiful. Almost as vibrant even, hints of color remaining despite being a corpse.

House Serene's crypts were an ancient thing. They weren't used unless mainline family members passed. The burial site had existed for thousands of years, having been built long before Metsiphon became a great city. Thick cracks patched by spider webs marked layered brick walls. Dahlia shivered. She feared spiders as a child. A fear she never truly conquered. The occasional rat scurried along shadows, further adding to her discomfort. She took in a deep breath to relax herself.

Sar'tara would have laughed at her. As queen, Dahlia would never know the miseries suffered by those less fortunate than her. It was her responsibility to better the lives of all Xenarians. Many people lived on grime painted streets infested with critters and rats. Exaltyron's Impoverished District was one such area. A district that had devolved into mere slums and places of criminal respite. Every monarch —Dahlia included— vied to improve the area and all of them had given up on it. It housed a Shrine of Flames and was also the home to powerful street guilds. All that could be done was keep criminal influence at bay and stop their rot from tainting the city's entirety.

The group walked past the tombs of the very first members of House Serene, lantern bearers at the side showing the passage forward. Each tomb had a life sized stone statue beside it. They were replicas of each person. A statue was made for every Serene once they reached adulthood to maintain visual accuracy. The pallbearers stopped before two empty tombs. The statue of Kalin was beside one whilst the other tomb had no statue at all. Dahlia raised a brow toward him.

"She didn't want one," Kalin said, noticing the unasked question. "Said it was pointless. She believed that it created attachments to the past. Something the Selharr Vashiri thought of as taboo. They are a headstrong people that always looked to the future.

"I say this but Tara would often bury her face in my chest at night, weeping," Kalin said, looking at his empty palms. "Her frequent nightmares lessened, but never truly disappeared. I often found her occupied within Metsiphon's libraries, searching for records of the Thousand Sun City's construction, searching for any weakness that would allow her to attain justice for her first family."

Yes, I know of all that too well.

Kalin looked up at crumbling walls where a figure of Sar'tara should have stood. "I should never have listened to her. Now I have nothing to remind me of her beautiful face." He broke into tears.

Dahlia swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don't say that you have nothing, Kalin. You have Elizia. You have your daughter. She looks very much like our Sar'tara. Take care of her. She's headstrong just like her mother. But she is young and brash. She doesn't possess Sar'tara's level of experience."

"I fear it will be difficult to keep her from the battlefield. She takes after her mother."

"And you should be proud of that. She's the heir to the House. You must not bind her, Kalin. Rather, teach her. Teach her well so that she does not share your beloved wife's fate." Dahlia struggled to get the words out of her mouth. She did her part as both queen and friend. But she wanted to cry as well. Sar'tara had lent her a shoulder when Madrivall passed. Dahlia wanted to support Kalin in any way necessary, but found it hard enough to hold back her own emotions.

The casket was placed within the lifeless grey tomb of stone. "Lord Serene. Would you allow me a few words?" A soldier asked. Light from the lanterns twinkled in his teary eyes. His voice shook, threatening to crack like the walls around him.

"Captain Faren," Kalin croaked. "Yes. Of course. Go ahead."

"Thank you, my lord." He turned to address the other soldiers. "I know that you all want to mourn. I know that everyone here wants to shed tears. But let us not forget that our Huntress, the Lady Sar'tara, was a survivor of the Selharr Vashiri. A tribe that never looks back. A people of pride and strength. The Vashiri did not mourn their fallen for more than a day. Alas, it has been several days already since her passing. Let today be the last day we shed tears. Lady Sar'tara brought about the best from within us. Whether it be our strength as warriors. Or our morals as people. She was kind to those in need of help. And swift to pass judgment on those that preyed on the weak. She smote our enemies in battle. Her bow felled many as they rained down arrows from the heavens. For The Huntress was given a heaven sent talent. Let us remember Sar'tara, not as a fallen Eagle, but an Eagle that soared higher than any other. An Eagle that flew into the future, guiding the path for all those behind it. Let us carry the Lady's fierce spirit and kindness with us. Let us carve a better future for ourselves and all those we are charged to protect. Let us be generous to the less fortunate. And let us be swift and terrible to our enemies just as she was. For that is what I believe Lady Sar'tara would have wanted. Forgive me, Lord General, if you believe I have over spoken. But I needed to say that much at least. If only I had disobeyed her that night. If only I hadn't left her alone. Perhaps she would still be alive. I should have fallen in her stead. I—"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"That's enough, Captain." Kalin wiped away his own tears. "You need not blame yourself. Your words have shown me clarity. I had been looking behind me when I should not. It isn't what she would have wanted. Your Majesty, if you would not mind now…" he said, turning towards Dahlia.

She nodded as she cleared her throat. It took her several deep breaths before she felt ready to sing. She closed her eyes and inhaled once more.

A blinding sun in a cloudless sky

There was a bird that did soar high

Valiant and splendid she was

Far across was heard her singing cry

This was our Silver Eagle

In the darkness of the starless night

Unhindered was her piercing sight

She gazed upon the horizon far

Guiding those with brilliant silver light

This was our Silver Eagle

Perched high up in the maple tree

Or flying high in liberty

Not a detail passed her by

Not even in the boundless sea

This was our Silver Eagle

With a peerless smile, as if having fun

She rained down fear on the wicked ones

Their malice could afflict her not

Each battle she had easily won

This was our Silver Eagle

A bird could only soar so long

Her flight she did try to prolong

In the end she did descend

From her throat escaped one last song

This was our Silver Eagle

A blinding sun in a cloudless sky

There was a bird that did soar high

Valorous and glorious she was

Remembered far will be her singing cry

This is our Silver Eagle

"This was Sar'tara Serene

Your blessed deeds we all have seen

Rest now within our memory

Through us will live your legacy

Rest in peace, daughter of Xenaria

Rest in peace, Sar'tara Serene"

Dahlia opened her eyes to see everyone else staring at the dirt floor whilst silently weeping. She too shed a few tears in silence. No further words were spoken as the group ascended from the crypts. The soldiers that had attended the funeral all left to see their respective families within the city. Those without family departed for Arcaeus Peak.

Kalin invited Dahlia to dinner, presumably to seek solace in her company. She meant to leave for the capital. The warnings of Tarmia's emissary still tugged at her inner strings. But she couldn't leave a grieving friend so soon.

The sun had long since set when she arrived at the mansion's dining hall, Eildred trailing after her. Six paneled windows shone a hollow dark, luminite white reflecting off their polished surface. Dahlia was surprised to find the hall void of people. Kalin sat alone on one end of a long table. The same mahogany table with cushioned chairs wherein she'd celebrated the duke's wedding.

Dahlia had expected for at least Emeria and Azurus to join them, if not Elizia. Tall doors closed behind her with a heavy thud. Eildred, changed into his violet uniform, stood on one side of the doors while a man of equal stature stood on the other side. The man wore a thick coat that looked more akin to protective wear used during friendly duels rather than normal servant's garb. A shining silver eagle brooch was perched over his heart. The Wolf of Metsiphon, Commander Jengard Rask. Dahlia had only seen him once many years ago. His size made him hard to forget.

She took the nearest seat to the Duke. Only a portion of the table was full of food, but it was more than enough for two people. She remembered the ceaseless scolding that Kalin would receive from his wife when serving more food than could be eaten. She glanced in his direction with a disappointed look, hoping to rekindle sweet memories of Sar'tara. She found Kalin to be staring intently at the empty silver plate before him, a fierce flame in his eyes as if meaning to melt holes into it. He was sitting upright, no trace of that slumped posture remaining. That lion's pride that she remembered had returned. And with it came a calm rage as silent and deadly as a tidal wave, as if the depression preceding it had been the recession of seawater that followed quaking ground.

Seeing as how there were no others present, Dahlia helped herself to small portions of various present dishes, not caring for proper etiquette or table manners. She was doing her best to mimic Sar'tara. Kalin hardly paid any mind. He continued staring at his own blurred reflection within his plate as she helped herself to roasted chicken and pork as well as what looked to be fried Grayscale fish fillets from the lake by Arcaeus Peak.

Eildred coughed, as if trying to remind her that her knife and fork remained untainted whilst her fingers were not. Dahlia also took portions out of salads and an aromatic soup which was served alongside Tarmian flat bread. Despite her gripes with her husband, Sar'tara had often complained about Dahlia's thinner figure and encouraged the queen to eat to her heart's content when visiting Metsiphon. Dahlia was certain Kalin had prepared this much food with those thoughts in mind. He was too thorough and caring to have not done so.

She slowly chewed without saying a word, waiting for him to speak first. He had things he wished to discuss. That much was obvious. But by the time her stomach had pleasantly swelled and her plate had emptied, he still hadn't uttered a word.

"I remember the early days after Sa'tara's integration in society," Dahlia began, with an innocent smile. She wiped her fingertips with a flowery napkin before dabbing it on her lips. "The slanderous words women of nobility would utter at gatherings with their mouths hidden behind fans. Their consequent cries when she slapped and shamed them before everyone."

"And then proceeded to bruise and break their enraged husbands and brothers," Kalin said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I'm jealous of Sar'tara. She's accomplished much. In comparison, I've done nothing"

"Mm."

"Metsiphon is truly an achievement to be proud of. I hear there are very few in the city that starve. And there's next to no shady activities. And all of this thanks to Sar'tara's kindness and charisma."

Kalin smiled. "Yes. She truly was a blessing."

Dahlia bit a corner of her lip, wondering if Kalin would say anymore. His thoughts still seemed to linger on his wife. A woman driven to improve the lives of those less fortunate than her. And she'd succeeded.

"Enough about that," Kalin sighed, his voice suddenly clear and strong. Something more familiar to Dahlia's memory. "How did the meeting with the Empire's diplomats go?" he finally asked.

She blinked at the strange change in topics. "Are you familiar with the name Idris Khan?"

"I see. So the rumors were true then."

Dahlia raised a brow. Rumors. She doubted what he heard was just rumors. Kalin was well informed. "An end to the conflict would have been a welcome change."

"Indeed," he replied sarcastically. "Ekvatana's resurrection would have been wondrous too."

"Kalin. Put your worries to rest. I won't sign any peace treaties. Not after what they did. And Idris wasn't there to offer terms of peace to begin with. You want something from me. I can tell. What is it?"

His expression darkened. His tone grew deep. "Everything you can get me," he answered, glowering at his plate. He slowly met her eyes again. "We've been skirmishing with the Empire long enough. I want a declaration of war from your mouth. Use your power. Send out royal decrees. Double the labor force of House Galadin's iron mines. Request —no, demand soldiers from each and every noble. From House Galadin and Caranel especially. Order Admiral Coraine to take the city of Ostirin. I want the full backing of all your court members. Every resource you can spare me without crippling the nation. I want the royal army and Eildred Aegis. A vanguard headed by Sir Aegis and Commander Rask will be the most formidable front that we will have ever mustered. And… Healers. Yes. Healers from the Order of Trillia. They will be useful for the war."

Kalin was looking at her with narrowed eyes, waiting for a response. Waiting to see how much of his demands would be met. Almost like a pride staring down a grazing herd, wondering just how much it could take before the population was crippled. "I will do my best," Dahlia said, averting her own gaze and fidgeting with her hands beneath the table.

His eyes narrowed further. "And what of the First Chancellor, Adrian Rinz?" he slowly said.

"What of him?" Dahlia snapped. Kalin maintained a calm sense of focus, his wood colored eyes seeing right through her. She once thought that glare attractive. It still was, to an extent. Even past forty, he retained some of that charm she had fallen for as a young girl. His plate was still void of food. "Do you… have spies within my palace?" she slowly asked. If Kalin knew, then her chamberlain most certainly did. And if so, Eildred too… her gaze flickered towards the uniformed guard who wore an emotionless expression.

"Surely you aren't that naïve, Dahlia. High House Serene has been the bastion of Xenaria for over a thousand years. Our duty is to protect the nation from external threats and internal. Again, I will ask you, what of Adrian Rinz? Are you willing to go to the extreme if he disobeys orders from the queen?"

It wasn't fair. He was leveraging his friendship as well as playing on her guilt. Kalin was putting himself and Sar'tara between her and Adrian. Kalin wanted war. And he wasn't going to go about it in a haphazard manner. "I will do what is necessary," Dahlia said. Her stomach felt unsettled. She surely wasn't going to deny Kalin after indulging in his generosity. Was he waiting for me to eat my fill before springing this on me?

The aftertaste of food in her mouth began turning bitter. It didn't matter. She needed to put her personal feelings behind. The Empire had gotten away with far too much. They needed to pay.

"I don't mean to be harsh, Dahlia. I know that you've been using the Trillian faith to maintain order. There are other ways to achieve that. You could have gotten the same results through law. Or… force. There's a reason you'll hardly find anyone preaching the Trillian faith within Metsiphon. They disappear as soon as they appear. Sar'tara made it as such. She had always been wary of them. The Order of Trillia abides by a strict code of anti-conflict. Your chancellor will never agree to war no matter how much you plea. Even if you leverage your love against him. His devotion to his goddess is greater than his devotion to you. Trillians are a fanatical lot. Which brings me to my next point. I don't trust him. In fact, I'd much rather trust the escaped prisoner rather than him."

"You're aware of Idris Khan's prison break?"

"Naturally," Kalin admitted without flinching.

"And even after all of that, you would dare say that you trust a Tarmian more than one of your own?" Dahlia asked, severely disappointed.

"One of our own… There is an enemy Sar'tara hated more than the Empire. An enemy she ceaselessly searched for a way to defeat. I've come to share the intensity of her hatred. And even after taking my wife from me, I still hate them more than the Tarmians. I've made her ambition my own. You missed a valuable opportunity, Dahlia. I haven't met this Idris Khan, but if the so called God of War was looking for a challenge, then he may have accepted a temporary alliance."

Dahlia's eyebrows furrowed. "You mean the Union and the Thousand Sun City?" Kalin nodded in reply. "What does this have to do with not trusting Adrian?"

"You've let the Order of Trillia grow without restraint, Dahlia. I have unreliable sources claiming that the religion stems from the Thousand Sun City. But I have reliable information regarding high ranking members of the faith being former members of the Astral Union. I can't blame you. They have a tight control over any information regarding themselves. Now, a fully militarised city, slowly spreading its roots into our nation, unchecked, unchallenged, and gaining the favor of the common folk and aristocrats alike. You would be surprised to learn that a faith proclaiming peace has many thousands of armed mercenaries at their call, all guising themselves as ordinary citizens. Heira, Torsdale, Stoneport, Assak, Qalydon, all have major Trillian temples. And you've commissioned one to be built in Exaltyron. I don't think it's too late to act, but it slowly is getting to that point. I want war, Dahlia. I want the Empire to pay. But as a Serene, I bear the responsibility of defending our nation. So, what of Adrian Rinz? What of the Order of Trillia and their ties to the Thousand Sun City?"

Dahlia didn't notice it, but she was biting her own nails again. It was too much information to take in at once. Kalin poured himself a cup of Red Vine red and drank it all in one go. Dahlia poured herself some and stared at her own reflection within the blood colored liquid.

"You should have been privy to this information long before me, Your Majesty. It has been almost ten years since Marco resigned to the lesser duties of the Second Chancellor and Adrian was given the position of the First. Think back. Your intelligence system has been compromised for a while. I'd reckon it must have begun after the chancellor's appointment. I've said my piece. The rest depends on you. I ask that you don't let your feelings cloud your judgment."

Dahlia's hands trembled as she raised her cup to her mouth. Kalin poured himself more wine from the pitcher and consumed it in one breath again. She glanced at him as he looked up at the ceiling while sighing. For a second she saw a younger image of him. Brave and gallant. The same person she once wanted to marry when she was her own daughter's age. Those thoughts changed when their eyes met again. Kalin's eyes didn't have that innocent sparkle that she'd fallen in love with. That charm she thought she saw just a moment before was nothing more than a thin fabric veiling something else. Something more visceral and experienced. His eyes seemed older than he was, full of memory and… hate.

"You look… pretty, Dahlia. Very… pretty," he said after a long while.

She frowned. And then the charm is back in full? He was wholly putting her through a sea storm of emotions, half of it unintentional. He was bad at holding his liquor. She remembered the first time he had gotten drunk at a gathering. A group of girls had pushed him into a fountain. She was among them.

Dahlia shook her head. She already had someone she now loved. Someone that could very well be using her. A traitor to Xenaria. Again, the Tarmian general's warning came back to her. Was Adrian the one Idris had been speaking of? On a glance, Jasim Galadin and his followers seemed more of the power hungry type. Or perhaps they were merely greedy for money. But she'd known Adrian for so long. Could it really be? The words of an enemy haunted her. And Kalin had laid bare the facts before her.

Dahlia had been too relaxed over the past few years. She thought her nation was stable and safe. She fretted over her court too often. The High Houses caused issues at times —House Galadin raising iron prices and dealing in strange businesses, House Caranel eating their own members alive and shirking their taxes, leaving northern Xenaria in a precarious state. House Coraine ignoring royal summons while amassing copious amounts of wealth through their monopoly of the Aegis Basin.

There were also always lesser nobles trying to raise their status through any means necessary, and a less than savory number of criminal organizations capitalizing on such behaviour. But everything existed within a delicate balance. A balance Dahlia had strived to maintain and slowly improve. Such things and trivial conflicts had existed since long before her reign. She was well aware of the Trillian faith's rapid growth, but for them to be tied to a most despised military state was not something she could have imagined. And if what Kalin had said was all true, there would be no way for her to confront Adrian regarding the matter without offending him. All she could do was observe him for a time before coming to a decision.

Screams from beyond the dining hall stole her attention. Kalin, half drunk, turned his head with a frown. The two men standing at the door drew their blades in an instant as something banged upon its surface from the opposite end. Dahlia could make out the voice of a screaming woman. She's alive! She's alive!

Dahlia frowned. "Open the door," she commanded.

Eildred stole a glance towards her before pulling open the door and leaping back in a ready stance, Rask doing the same. An aging woman took a few steps forward and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Her pale blue tunic and white apron marked her as a physic. "She's alive!" the woman cried, gasping for breath. "Ten year…poison. Lady Sar'tara… Alive. Please! Lord Serene…help…"