Penumbria's royal bath – if it could be called that – was a bright, steamy, high-ceiling room with a singular stone tub. A few minutes after being forcibly launched into the water, Adam resigned himself to his fate and tossed his wet clothes off.

If I have to speak with the other Frontier nobles, being clean is better than not, he groused. And if the negotiations end up being as tough as Aspreay alluded to...then I should take this chance to relax, if nothing else–

Tenver slammed the wooden-double doors entrance open. "Ah! There you are, Adam." The Puppet Prince grinned. "I have excellent news and terrible news – what would you prefer first?"

"My bath, if I have a choice." Much as Adam loathed the manner Aspreay had forced him, he had to admit he enjoyed how the warm water soothed his sore muscles. "You aren't getting me out of this tub to discuss our impending doom. Not gonna happen."

"Understandable." Tenver's hands moved with practiced efficiency, each piece of armor hitting the ground with a deep, resonant clatter that cut through the steamy stillness. The soft whisper of leather followed as he shrugged out of the final straps. "We can do both," he said lightly, his grin flashing through the haze like a blade.

"That's not what I–"

The Painter's objection for peace died in his throat when Tenver's clothes hit the ground, his abnormally-large Puppet appendage on full display.

It was easy to forget that the man wasn't human – not that Adam cared either way. Still, the fact the wooden limb became nearly long enough to reach the man's own toes when uncompressed always marveled him.

Tenver's arm was also strong enough to shoot arrows as if they were ballista bolts, especially when combined with his Talent of Archery. It had proved invaluable in the defense of Penumbria not long ago.

Yet you'd never know he was a Puppet under normal circumstances, Adam mused. How can his arm look regular-sized when he has his armor on, then become that...thing a moment later?

Once upon a time, Tenver would have likely felt self-conscious about any curious glares aimed at his body. Then again, that was when his Puppetry was a closely held secret – and for good reason at that. He would've been executed had it been known that he'd died once before, only to be resurrected by the Puppet Grandmaster, now 'cursed' to roam the Painted World as a reanimated automaton of sorts.

These days, the Puppet Prince hardly seemed to care. Their rebellion against the Emperor already warranted execution, anyhow, so his status didn't matter much at this point. And most of all...

He'd found friends he could relax around.

Somehow, I'm of the same mind as this weirdo, Adam thought. He muttered a curse of annoyance as Tenver entered the tub. Can hardly believe it, but I've also found people I can relax around. Those two really–

Tenver splashed warm water onto his face.

Adam frowned, wet hair handing over his eyes. "Seriously?" the Painter asked, in a deadpan monotone. "Are you goddamn serious with me right now?"

"My King, I am many things. Your first knight, your best of friends, the trueborn heir to the Empire – damned be the kinslayer I call uncle – as well as your most trusted advisor."

He paused solemnly and held a fiery gaze. "However–" Tenver splashed him again, this time hitting Adam straight in the eye. "–I do not believe serious to be a fair descriptor of my behavior."

The Painter forced himself to sigh deeply in order to keep a smirk from the edges of his lips. It didn't work. "Alright, jackass. What's the terrible news and what's the excellent news? Pick the order, I don't care."

"Fear not, I lied about one being excellent. Regardless, what you must know first and foremost is that the Western Hangmen have mobilized. Our spies report they have left their cities and begun marching east."

Adam grimaced. "That is quite terrible."

During their last skirmish with the Empire, they'd fought against most of the Hangmen stationed in the Capital city – and nearly died for it. Adam and Solara had defeated two of them, but not before those walking heralds of destruction killed hundreds of their men. Even now, Penumbria's army was still weak in manpower because of that very clash.

And that was back when Ciro only bothered to summon the few Hangmen he had to spare. He didn't bring the ones guarding the Western corner of the Empire.

"Honestly, I was hoping the Emperor wouldn't call them to the battlefield," Adam whispered, sinking deeper into the bath. "I knew we were lucky he hadn't stationed any Hangmen around the Eastern Frontier, but I thought he'd keep the ones at the other half of the Empire in reserve lest we tried to flank the Capital."

Tenver's Puppet arm splashed a large amount of water – this time unintentionally – as he shrugged. "Why would they fear that? The Capital is in the center of the Empire and has little direct access to the ocean. While it does have one river that connects its dock to the ocean, that's narrow and easily defensible. It would make sense for the Emperor to send forth his Hangmen and finish this war quickly."

"I suppose it would," Adam conceded, sinking even further down.

"Most fortunate, then, that he didn't call them."

The Lord of Penumbria stood up in a splash. "What? But you just said that they were moving!"

"They were – but not on the Emperor's orders. Right now, the group of eight travels together under Knox's banner."

The name wasn't entirely unfamiliar. Adam had heard it in his studies of the region, although not yet in conversation. "The Hangman?"

"Aye! The dreaded Hangman Knox. Not as strong as the Dark Captain Valente, but far more ambitious."

A dangerous combination, that. If Valente could be said to have one weakness – and this wasn't a certainty – it was his almost childlike naivety. The Dark Captain was undoubtedly the strongest in the Painted World, yet he believed himself to be a fairy tale hero, as if the reality itself would conform to his notions of righteousness.

Aspreay exploited that, Adam recalled. It's the only reason he survived their duel. But a Hangman who even approached that man's level of strength, whilst also having darker ambitions...

Now there was a chilling thought.

"You mention his ambition for more than set dressing, I imagine," Adam noted. "Why is Knox on the move? What opportunity did he spot?"

"Our dear Frontier Lords aren't the only ones who smell weakness. After the Empire failed to defeat us and needed to sue for peace last autumn, Ciro did summon his Eastern Hangmen. Instead, they refused his summons and rallied around Knox."

Adam's eyes widened. "Are they also rebelling against the Emperor?"

"Were it only so, my king."

Tenver sighed, showing a rare weariness on his face. "Knox knows that he's working on incomplete information. The Empire failed to defeat Penumbria, and lost two Hangmen for its troubles, true – but he has less knowledge of the how and why. Valeria's misinformation campaign was quite capable in that regard."

The Puppet Prince hesitated. "However, he also knows that Valente alone would be enough to destroy both our entire rebellion and the Eastern Hangmen if it came down to it. Ciro can't send the Dark Captain against us yet because he lacks official pretense, and because it would cost him prohibitively if the other cities decried his warmongering. Those reasons no longer apply if the Empire is attacked first."

A memory of the hundreds of deaths at Valente's hand flooded Adam's mind. "So Knox smells blood in the water, but isn't delusional that his alliance can defeat Valente. What then?"

Tenver shook his head. "He cannot best the Dark Captain, and he knows it, too. Yet mayhaps he thinks that he can best the Emperor."

Adam raised an eyebrow with interest. Only three individuals in the Painted World possessed a Talent of Emperor Rank: Emperor Ciro, the Dark Captain Valente, and the Puppet Grandmaster.

Those three were nearly unkillable. A lower-Ranked Talent was incapable of directly harming someone who wielded a higher-Ranked Talent. To injure them, raw, physical violence was necessary...and inflicting that upon living demigods was easier said than done.

Worst of all, Emperor Ciro also possessed the Talent of a Lord – and he'd spread his Realm throughout the entirety of the Empire. No matter what happened, the Second Pillar of Noble Realms, Noble Guard would keep him alive.

"I'm still not following you," Adam admitted. "If Knox knows he can't win, why foster rebellion?"

Perhaps that was hypocritical to say considering Penumbria's own circumstances, but their rebellion had been born of desperation. The Western Hangmen could've lived in the lap of luxury for the rest of their years, enjoying their position at the top of the Empire's food chain. This uprising was painting a target on their backs.

Tenver smiled bitterly. "My king, imagine yourself as Knox. You are plentiful in ambition – poor in morals. Your mockery that calls itself an Emperor has, surprisingly, struggled in a war against an enemy of unknown force. What would you do?"

Adam closed his eyes in concentration. "I would want the Orbs to turn myself into a stronger threat against Ciro," he slowly said. "Yeah. If I needed an Emperor Ranked Talent to inspire real fear, then I'd start collecting Orbs any way I could."

And in this Painted World where money was literally equal to strength, that would mean...

The Painter's eyes snapped open in horror. "Knox could raze down the Empire's cities to the ground – the Eastern cities that they were stationed under. They could erase them from the map, kill thousands, pillage everything in sight, and use the Orbs to improve his negotiating position."

"Correct," Tenver muttered, his Puppet arm tensing. For a man who'd faced down certain death with a smile, the thought of Knox seemed to trouble him "And he needs not even succeed to achieve his goals. The man isn't a sadist; he is merely without kindness in his heart. Ciro desires Orbs more than anything else, remember?"

It was hard to forget. For reasons yet unknown, the Emperor was attempting to hoard a truly absurd number of Orbs. Only his strange protectiveness of the Empire's economy had halted the last war and forced him into peace negotiations.

Ciro would do a lot to keep his cities from being destroyed. Not because of any genuine concern for his subjects – but because less people meant fewer taxes flowing into his coffers.

"If the Empire is preoccupied with us in the Eastern territories," Adam began, "then the Capital would be hard-pressed to stop a second rebellion in the east. At worst, it'll be vulnerable to a third incursion from elsewhere."

Realization dawned on him. "The threat is what matters. Knox doesn't actually want to fight the Emperor. He'll hold a knife not to Ciro's throat, but rather, to his purse...and hold the economy hostage in exchange for...?"

"Power," Tenver grimly stated. "Power, Orbs, and Titles. It's what he's always wanted."

That sounded oddly personal. "I have to ask – do you know the guy?" Adam queried. Upon receiving silence for an answer, he insisted, "Personally, I mean? Not just as a Hangman."

"We...used to be friends." Tenver laughed distantly. "A long time ago." He shook his head. "Think of Eric. It's not too dissimilar, though mayhaps I overstate the severity of the matter."

The comparison explained enough for Adam not to pry. He would need to know more about their past soon, as both Lord of Penumbria and King of the Frontier, but for the moment...just for the moment, he could allow Tenver not to think of it.

"Knox is an opportunist," said the Puppet Prince. "If he sees our war against the Emperor turning favorable, he could be persuaded to side with us."

"You don't sound hopeful," Adam pointed out.

Tenver smiled. "I mislike lying to my best friend. But as your Knight, it is my duty to mention the possibility. Unlikely as it might be, if we could outnumber the Empire with Hangmen, then–"

The large, wooden double-doors flung open once more as Solara of Gama entered.

Steam coiled around her like a cloak as the Elf stepped forward, her long wavy hair catching the damp air. Her voice, low but playful, pierced through the haze with an authority that filled the room. "Ah–! There you are."

Adam shrunk deeper into the stone tub. "Solara, I think this is...not the best time."

"Why is that?" The Elf tread closer to the tub, then gestured at Tenver with her head. "You allowed him here, and I too have things to report."

"That's different," Adam protested, trying and failing to hide his exasperation. "Tenver is–"

"Is it because he's in the bath with you?" Solara's voice was completely innocent, only the slightest of smirks betraying her true feelings. Her hands reached for the buttons on her dress. "If my lord commands, this can be remedied."

Adam bit his tongue to prevent a flustered response. I know your game. Not gonna let you get to me. Upon summoning his composure, he said, "That would be...a problem, Solara."

Tenver held his chin pensively. "Do you think so? Our elven friend has a point, my king. If you can stand to bathe with unparalleled beauty such as myself, I believe her inferior appearance would hardly distract from our discussion."

"Go ahead and insult me, little prince." Solara raised her eyebrows. "Need I remind you of my Genius Realm? Herald your own funeral – see if I care."

Don't even try to pretend that any of us know exactly what your Genius Realm does, Adam thought. Yourself included.

"Oh, my lady – I speak not of insults, but of truth!" the Prince objected. "I would not lie and claim you are not beautiful, Solara. Rather..."

Tenver's fingers traced a languid pattern on the water's surface, then drew a line that continued onto his muscular torso, which he highlighted with a radiant pose. "I am without peer and you both know it."

Solara and Adam couldn't help but laugh at his confidence. Were it unfounded, it would've already been amusing in its own way. That the man was unfortunately as handsome as he liked to claim only made it funnier.

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"Worry not," Tenver went on. "Each of us shine in our own way. You are not as beautiful as I, but you are stronger. Neither Adam nor myself could beat you in a fight now that you have your Genius Realm."

"Truly?" Solara asked. "Considering Adam's new Hangman Talent he stole from Eric, and your Puppet Archery, I'm not sure I would have the time to call upon my own ability."

"Surely you jest," Tenver insisted. "A few nights ago, I seem to recall you drunkenly spilling wine–" Right in my eye too, Adam recalled, "–before saying you could easily take both of us on."

"That I did. But not in a fight, I fear."

Both of them laughed heartily as Adam sank his head into his hands to hide his face. "I almost miss when you idiots didn't get along," he whispered under his breath, causing them to laugh harder.

In truth, he wasn't as embarrassed by their sense of humor as he made it seem. But the two had been on...tense terms until recently, and they were stronger friends with Adam than with each other. If making him blush was their common ground, then he was happy to oblige while they worked past this awkward stage.

Besides – much as he hated to admit, he did have fun joking with them.

"At least turn around," Adam complained, mock outrage in his voice. "The steam isn't that thick. Respect your friend's modesty a little."

"Why? I ought to join you instead," Solara threatened, though they both knew she wouldn't follow through. "Then we could have our discussion more easily – faster, too! It would be such a better use of time!"

"Again, that sounds highly inappropriate."

"Hardly so. I don't think elven culture would have the same views about bathing as humans."

"So? You weren't raised in elven culture! This probably feels as weird to you as it does to me!"

To Adam's surprise, all humor fell from Solara's face at once. Huh. I didn't expect that to land. He stared at her in confusion, trying to think what he could've said to spark that response.

Before he could arrive at a conclusion, the elf cast her eyes downward and turned around. "Aye, aye, fair enough my lord!" she replied, with a tone of false enthusiasm. "Let's move on to matters of business, then."

"Hold on," Adam interjected. "I don't think you actually wanted to get in, I'm 99% sure you were just being annoying...so why are you upset? That doesn't seem right. Did I say something to–"

"Did you know that an elven village still resides in the Empire?" Solara asked.

Adam's train of thought nearly crashed as it abruptly switched tracks. "Wait, what? But Greenisle..." He trailed off, lest he speak of the massacre she had endured.

"...Had survivors who refused to come to Gama," Solara finished. "Most perished as the Empire chased them, but the others appear to have formed a hidden village. I don't know whether they have a Lord Talent to help keep the Rot out, but they do possess some manner of illusion."

Her posture was stiff as stone. "The village is located in the Frontier. Makes sense, I suppose – the Emperor cared very little about this side of the Empire. Same reason why the Puppet Mine is located around these parts."

Adam furrowed his brow at the implications. A hidden elven village in the Frontier. How is that going to impact the war?

The elves were going to be in danger, for one thing. And they could be useful allies, for another.

But most importantly...

"Have you always known about this?" Adam asked.

Solara shook her head. "No." The answer came in a pitch higher than usual, and was punctuated by a weak laugh. "Not at all."

Tenver folded his arms. "How did the survivors reach this secret village?"

"Other elves told them. Despite the Empire's treatment of them, some small communities do exist in Imperial cities. The news spread from elf to elf, only telling the ones they could trust...which was quite the large number."

Adam nodded. "So that's how you heard of it, then? When the elven refugees migrated to Penumbria after our war with the Empire–"

"No!" Solara exclaimed, louder than before. Her back was still turned. Adam no longer thought that it was because of any concerns for his modesty. "I found out from Valeria. She's known of it for a while now. Isn't that just amusing?"

Her question was accompanied by another laugh, this one empty and hollow.. "She's an Elven Puppet who sliced off the edges of her ears to disguise herself as human...yet they trusted her with this secret. But I...well, I guess that's fair, right? I mean..."

Her voice died suddenly as she shook her head. "Sorry, Adam. I need to...go be by myself for a moment."

"Wait," he protested. "Are you okay? What's going–"

By the time he'd spoken, Solara had already slammed the doors shut and left.

--

Adam read the letter over and over until its ink began to blur together. He can't be serious.

"Do you now begin to see why I once gave up on saving this city!" Aspreay sounded far too pleased with himself as he sipped at his wine. "I take it from your face that the Frontier Lords are demanding more?"

"And how." Adam huffed in disbelief. "We already agreed to pay for their travel costs. Now that they're here, residing in our guest chambers, they demand more still!"

He shook his head. "Just...why? Don't those imbeciles understand how important this alliance is?"

Aspreay laughed. "It is precisely because they understand it. Emperor Ciro's last war spoke loudly and clearly, but the Frontier Lords heard a different tale than we. The Empire will not save their cities from either Rot or calamity, true – yet neither will its scythe fall upon them. That is a fear of Penumbria alone."

"Is there a difference? So the Empire won't march its army on them. Who cares? Ciro made it clear he doesn't care for their lives when he sent their men against us without even trying to minimize his losses! Do they think he'll help them evacuate when the Rot inevitably gets worse?"

"No, bastard. They think that your desperation outweighs theirs...and that the one with the tightest noose has the weakest standing."

Aspreay's mirth slipped away. "The Frontier Lords know that siding against the Empire is the best choice. The last skirmish proved, if not Emperor Ciro's weakness, then at least his unwillingness to field his own troops or commit to an expensive supply line. They believe that a war with him is manageable – until terms of peace can be settled – and that you've devised a way of your own to combat the Rot. From their perspective, Penumbria has much to offer."

Adam chose not to argue the sureness of their survivability. The Frontier Lords underestimated Penumbria regarding politics, yet overestimated it regarding war.

Of course they do, he thought. Thinking otherwise would be admitting that their armies were soundly defeated by a weaker force.

And their ego couldn't have that, could it?

"I will not give them Orbs just for attending a meeting," Adam declared, with malice in his voice. "Even if we could afford it, doing so would inflate their self-worth too much."

"On that, we are of one mind, Painter." Aspreay fixed an icy stare at him. "What then? Can you think of some sophistry to twist a Lord's stubborn pride to your benefit?"

Adam raised an eyebrow. "We speak of a group of four Lords, yet your tongue names a singular man." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because – the Dragons burn me if I'm ever wrong – Lord Crepusculo of Coimbargo is a treacherous whoreson who'd sell his own daughter for an Orb. Across the entire Frontier, his city is the closest to the Imperial capital, and the richest one at that. This isn't the first time he's attempted to force Penumbria's hand, nor is he unfamiliar with compelling other Lords to follow his whims."

The name brought a distant memory to the surface. "Crepusculo...wasn't his bastard son part of your court, Aspreay?"

"Aye. Unlike his wife, Crepusculo was more fond of his bastard than his trueborn. I thought it could be a useful tool the next time the miserable old fuck tried to do exactly as he is now."

Aspreay narrowed his eyes. "But I seem to recall that someone had the bastard's head placed on a pike."

Tenver made his presence known with a sheepish laugh.

Until now, he'd been observing the other two lords in a quiet, respectable silence. As Adam and Aspreay turned to look at him, a sense of playful embarrassment crept into his features. Upon being reminded of his coldhearted execution of a man, he let out a guilty chuckle, sounding no different than if he'd been accused of eating the last slice of cake.

"Ah, well, I wonder what dastardly man did that," said the Puppet Prince. "Rest assured, though – Lord Crepusculo's bastard most assuredly deserved his fate. He attempted to overthrow Adam after he took Penumbria's throne."

A tense silence passed through the room.

Bold of you to say that to the man I overthrew, Adam thought. From Aspreay's perspective, Edmundo must've been a hero trying to rid the city of an usurper.

"The bastard was guilty of treason," Aspreay stated, with a lazy disdain. "That I do not deny."

Or not.

"However, killing him has deprived us of options." The former Lord glared angrily at Tenver. "Had you kept him alive, he would be of great use right now."

"Had I kept him alive, he could have threatened Adam," the Puppet Prince replied, in a tone of mocking confusion.

Adam chose not to let the tension fester any longer. "Aspreay, if Crepusculo's bastard frustrated you so much, then why didn't you deal with him sooner?

Aspreay Arcanjo flashed a dark smile. "Had I done so, the lords would have run along to Emperor Ciro and begged his aid. At the time, it seemed unwise to court war against the Empire."

The Nobleman threw his head back and laughed. "But now Ciro himself crossed that line in the sand already – I see no reason to hesitate."

"Then what exactly are you suggesting?" Adam asked. "Do you want me to use my Realm to order Crepusculo to attend the meeting?"

"It would be a start." Aspreay placed his empty winecup onto the table. "But only a start. You would do well to break his legs too."

The Painter tensed. ""I'm trying to convince those people to bend their knees to me, Aspreay – hard to do that with legs that won't support them. I want them to see me as their King. You think imposing tyranny on them as my very first act would convince them to be loyal?"

"It would force them."

"Only until I show weakness. Isn't that why they're willing to betray the Emperor? Because he showed weakness? I need to inspire more loyalty than that."

Aspreay poured more wine for himself, then emptied the cup in one long gulp. "Painter, no feelings of transient loyalty can ever outshine the inherent glitter of greed. You couldn't create such a fantasy on your canvas – let alone spawn it into reality. A vassal is not a friend; they will betray you once you show weakness of any sort. Remember this, and become stronger."

Tenver harrumphed loudly. "And you think bloodshed is the quickest way of doing so, Lord Aspreay?"

"Do you not?" the Nobleman fired back. "I would have assumed you'd agree with me, Tenver, considering your...history with violence."

The Puppet Prince smiled. "On some level, mayhaps. Yet the difference between us, Aspreay, is that you would bring a scythe down upon one man's neck to make the other four surrender in terror."

"And that you lack the taste for blood, it seems." The Nobleman's voice was a sweet, venomous honey. "Mayhaps your father's tragedy was not enough to rid you of the rich, spoiled childhood he bestowed upon you?"

"I was raised by the best, most expensive tutors. That is true. But they taught me to not behave like a wasteful noble and simply discard whatever food I mislike."

Tenver's gaze was sharp. "I would much rather make all five men surrender in terror."

"And I would like for my hometown to not be swallowed by the Rot. Wants have little to do with reality."

"Wants are the first step towards crafting your desired reality, Aspreay." He turned to face Adam. "My lord – there is another way we can yet convince Lord Crepusculo to engage in talks."

Adam perked up. There was a sinking feeling forming in his stomach, and for the life of him he knew not why. "What do you have in mind?"

"Edmundo – Crepusculo's bastard son – sinned most gravely against us. He attempted treason against you, Adam."

Aspreay groaned. "And you had him executed for the crime. His ghost will be of no help to us."

"No," Tenver acknowledged. "But his bones will."

The Painter hesitated. "What are you suggesting?" he asked, wishing that he couldn't predict the answer.

"Lord Crepusculo will not only come to our table to negotiate – he shall bring the other Lords to it as well." Tenver's voice sang too innocent a tune for its lyrics. "Otherwise, we'll feed his son's remains to the pigs."

Adam felt a chill go down his spine.

"I placed his head on a pike," Tenver went on. "But once it scared off further rebellions, it was honorably buried in our crypts. It is still well-preserved. Bastard or not, Crepusculo won't want his noble house's name sullied any more than that."

He might love his child too, bastard or not, Adam thought, although he didn't say. "It feels...inhuman," he said, after a pause. "To threaten a man like that."

"Then allow the Puppet to handle this," Tenver told him with a smile. "Bards already sing me as a monster. Allow me to prove them right."

Adam grimaced. Crespusculo holding their alliance hostage was essentially an attack on Penumbria itself. Whatever his reasons might be, it didn't justify putting hundreds of thousands of people at risk. Yet matching his attack in kind...ransoming his dead son's bones...it just didn't feel good.

It doesn't have to, he reminded himself. Protecting this city is my duty. If I falter, the fragile happiness I've seen will disappear in the blink of an eye.

People live or die by my choices.

The Lord of Penumbra clenched his fist. "See it done."