[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

“Report- Report from the Blue Roses. Jaldabaoth has fled! They've been routed. They- they’ve been routed! We’ve won!”

The words drifted past her notice, before an errant drink splattered against the battlemap in the explosion around her.

“We have them!”

“We won! Oh my Gods, we’ve won!”

“Back to the netherrealms they go!”

“Thank the Gods!”

Renner broke from her spell, realizing that her silence was unbecoming for the celebration around her. The room had completely lost itself, men caught in embraces with others, general cheers, and appellations all around. Unable to find words, she forced out a girlish squeal and gave the tiniest of leaps. Upon her landing, she covered her mouth with her hands, at once appearing bashful and protecting her true reaction.

I don’t understand. Were they to have pushed, they would have broken through.

Renner had lost the battle’s tenor completely. The final advance into the square had been left open on one side, something whose exploitation she had spent the last seven minutes in tepid anticipation of. Now, that dreaded outcome had been ripped away, replaced with an apparent victory that was but a moment prior wishful and unlikely.

The enemy has done something nonsensical. Why not tear the gap in the line? We had no capacity to resist; no reserves to call up; no pools of mana to draw spellfire from; no ability to heal the dying from another attack. Did they not see it? I can’t imagine how not. Most of their force was flying, and their little-kin could easily slip into the sky or through the gaps in the wall to see it. They ran consistent probes, finding paths through the densest of urban blocks and setting up a dozen ambushes. They saw this, yes?

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

Renner turned to an excited Helgrave, letting her eyes smile as a response; this, to indicate a silent and introspective reverie. She forced her eyes to wet, two gentle streaks rolling down her cheeks as she bashfully swept them away. He lagged for a moment, before understanding came over him, and he backed away to make no further interruption of her.

Counterpoints? Chaos of battle? Plausible. Scout killed before it can report; Jaldabaoth too caught in his duel with Momon to provide effective command; breakdown of communication; any number of possibilities. My enemy feels above that, though. The care he took in the early moments of our advance, the layered defense. Surely he would not structure his force such that it would lose its dynamism when his person… his… I suppose “person” is as good a word as any, came under assault. Besides, is not individual initiative something fiends excel at?

No, this was a decision made on his part, a command to hold his forces back, but why? Preservation? I already nixed that. The holding of ground? The entire cause of a lodgement still seems spurious, but, clearly it has served some purpose to the enemy. I can’t think of a tactical reason to launch an assault upon the breach. In the case of securing a retreat, a shock counterattack and breakthrough would do exactly that. My only thought was that this had some strategic cause, but if this incursion truly is to last longer, why not encircle the adventurers and be done with the matter?

Renner looked back to the map, eyes scouring the spot upon which the enemy had made no assault. The pieces had long since shifted, a hasty shuffle to remove those spelter figurines that marked the enemy, one that inevitably moved the allied force markers out of place. One of Helgrave’s retinue, someone Renner recognized as Knight Haylen, had taken to over excitedly clearing the board, as did winners tend to do at the end of wargames. There was an odd melancholy to the moment, an ill taste in her mouth that would not quite settle.

Have I fallen victim to yet another paranoia? The same error I made with the syndicate; assuming every extension of mine was something the enemy had countered? I… I don’t know. I haven’t a clue. I thought perhaps that I had found their actions predictable, that they would set upon every opportunity post-haste. It seems Jaldabaoth has left me behind in his machinations. Pray tell, is he such a finer runner than I, or am I merely lame of mind? Lonesome.

Renner let out a gentle sigh, letting her hands fall away from her face, before turning round to inspect the riot around her. Many men were rushing out the double-doors, happy stammering about the fall of the flame-wall. Gilre seemed caught in this, turning back to Renner to indicate she should come forth. Renner gave a slow shake of the head no, letting more tears flow down her face, in indication that she needed a moment alone. Gilre, akin to Helgrave a moment prior, also understood this and made her egress, upon which the doors finally came to rest, leaving Renner alone with the five magic casters too exhausted to stand.

This gets me nowhere, nor does anything else. Accusations of plot, of conspiracy, mean nothing if I cannot use that to substantiate action. Likewise, I am not wont to assume mistakes on the part of my enemy; instead, I wish to label this a conscious action - perhaps even competent. What of every other moment this night the enemy decided not to strike? Perhaps a dozen more hidden holes opened in our lines that I did not notice, and who knows what other schema he considered and then abandoned. This is to say nothing of his actions before the flame-wall proper - whatever cause that had. His blows against all the Eight Fingers installations of note to me, excepting I suppose one, which by my rotten luck, was the one I sent Climb too. Perhaps the Gods, in their absence, will alway sweep him away from danger. Lo, so comes Sebas to save an errant slave girl.

Time seemed to catch, Renner’s mind fruitlessly spinning onward as she repeated those words in her mind, a general sense of confusion setting in.

Recall the events of that place. Climb and Brain arrived, alongside Raeven’s man… Rettenmeyer, and the squad of city guard I assigned to them. Lying in wait for the time to strike, they noted Sebas approaching, who quickly noticed them, and took them in. My puppy and his two companions slipped in the back, encountering what they believed to be the girl - truly, that disdainful man who almost slew him the day prior - and countered their Battle Demon. Fighting ensued, only to be cut short when Sebas entered and ended the life of Zero, just as he had done four times over for the rest of Six Arms. They went outside, and at that moment, the flame wall rose up. Sebas left, and the warriors returned to me, leaving the city guard at the sight, along with a minor guildsman capable of notifying us in case of further demonic intrusion… something which has yet to come.

There is no possible reason why the Six Arms compound would not possess Jaldabaoth’s object of interest. Were they chased off by strength? Unlikely. That decision would have been made before he arrived at the compound, considering that the demon force had already managed strikes before then on Tia’s target. If Sebas’s winding path through the city streets was seen, then how was Momon’s flying approach ignored? Surely Jaldabaoth would not have appeared at Hilma’s manor if he knew Darkness would drop from the sky on top of him. Is this Sebas such a more dangerous foe? Dangerous, yes, but a foe?

Think cooly. How did this escape me? The fervor of the moment perhaps, and the lingering doubt as the function of Jaldabaoth’s goal. Hours ago, it was not yet known how willing he was to sacrifice certain elements, and the easy presumption that a dread fighter such as Sebas could part the demon force where he walked. What was the story Climb told again?

Earlier in the evening, before Renner had made her proper pronouncement of battle to the summoned force of adventurers, she had conferenced with Climb as to the situation he had encountered at the Eight Fingers compound. The event had too many particular quirks for her to take proper stock of, from a crossdressing illusionist to a single blow slaying Zero, and thus had slipped in and out of her mind without proper reckoning. Now, what had been a simple overlook but minutes prior now seemed like a grave error. Renner’s chest stung, a deep pang that ran through her breast into her heart.

That Tuare was a slave that Sebas and taken in. That after being harried by the city guard, Sebas decided to assault and shatter the brothel she had come from. That after that, she was rescued, and then again imperiled by a kidnapping conducted by Eight Fingers - likely Six Arms - to which he chose to make his rescue tonight. That he- no, no he didn’t choose; Six Arms selected the time… and upon the conclusion of his business there, the rising of the flame wall.

Renner, for reasons beyond her, began to quiver, suddenly finding the war room tight.

The only reason to not strike the compound before is… is if Sebas’s actions constituted a strike itself. Perhaps… perhaps a plot. I- I must speak with someone involved. Climb- Climb has already given me his account, and Rettenmeyer is soon to return to Raeven’s service. I must speak with Brain on this matter.

—

The sunlight of the almost-noon sun bathed the palace lawn, which had itself become the sight of an impromptu jubilee. It was an unheard of intermingling of adventurers, Ro-Lante’s titled forces, those of House Raeven and its supplicants, the Warrior-Band, several priests and priestesses, a host of Magicians, and Valencia’s maidstaff. After the declaration of victory, forces had repaired at the palace and then endured another several hours of debriefing and payment, something that had left the lot even more tired and hungry. A rather impromptu feast of pies - thrown together from whatever the kitchens had on hand - along with the various cookeries of some more uncouth guests had led to almost everyone getting themselves promptly stuffed and drunk.

Renner spent her time in a false celebration with Lakyus, the latter making quick work of a frightfully unladylike quantity of food. Renner had herself only taken a single pie, and - as per custom - did not finish it, though this was less out of politeness and more so her vanished appetite. Some time prior, Lakyus had been struck with a sudden deep urge to sleep, quickly bidding Renner goodbye as she wandered off with the best of the Blue Rose - except a nascent Evileye who haunted Darkness. This had been a welcome reprieve for Renner, she having pushed her plate away, fell back into her chair, and brooded behind a cup of strong tea.

What if Tuare was not bait, but an objective? It’s possible.

The more she ran the matter over, the more she was certain of Sebas’s involvement in Jaldabaoth’s plot, be it association, alignment, or alliance. Though she had repeatedly stayed herself from the latter conclusion. Were the matters truly unrelated, Sebas’s assault coinciding with the enemy’s failure to do so, alongside the Sebas’s completion of Tuare’s rescue coinciding with the appearance of the flame wall would have been simple happenstance, conclusions Renner found untenable. Had the two merely wished to avoid a collision, Jaldabaoth could have run ahead and done his business, leaving the girl for him, or, merely adopt his lodgement later and slaughter the guard on site to search it, neither of which had occurred. Collaboration between Sebas and the fiend now seemed certain, a harrowing fact that Renner had no desire to grasp.

Alongside what else? This object of power aside, he did use his raids and lodgement to carry off with a great many things. An extraction of material wealth from both places, not merely coinage and jewelry, but furniture, dining sets, and the like. That’s bizarre in its own right. Do demons really have need for gold? An extraction of the people, too. I suppose even the netherrealms need slaves, but even the decrepit and ancient were taken. Perhaps they have other uses for invalids. Are there not man-eaters beyond our borders? Who’s to say they discriminate in their taste?

Renner took a gentle sip from her cup, eyes lost in the far field. She watched for a moment, tracking a maid and knight lost in deep conversation. The pair were one of many on the field, the maid suddenly leaping forth and kissing the knight, pulling him into an embrace. It was the sixth such occurrence Renner had seen that morning, the aftermath of a crisis leading to inevitable proposals. Watching the knight lift the maid wholesale off the ground, and spin her round, she sighed quietly. She was delaying the inevitable.

How am I to so casually address this? Call a man over, and with a light questioning and tea, decide whether or not I am doomed. Perhaps Lakyus has that sort of strength. I'm caught wholly by the enemy. All things not well to be, I must speak with Brain.

In sheepish fashion, she had belayed this action for hours, consistently finding - or inventing - cause to avoid detailed conversation with him. It was simple anxiety on her part, an unwillingness to engage with the individual who most threatened her security, even if the knowledge he held was so desperately desired. Renner sighed, preparing herself for the ordeal of rising from her chair - now having been awake well over the full course of a day. Before she rose, she took one last look around, and to her surprise, found Brain Unglaus in close proximity, leaning against the palace wall but six paces away to her left.

Well this was mighty convenient. I expected him to be with the Warrior-Captain. Why… ah, he's standing by me because I legitimize his presence. Anywhere else, he's liable to be named a bandit. Right.

Renner lazily waved, after a moment catching Brain’s attention and bidding him over.

“Mister Unglaus. Mayhaps I have a word?”

Unglaus did not respond, instead staring at Renner with baggy eyes.

“Forgive me, I’m bad at these things. I have to say yes, right?”

Renner hung a moment, before breaking into a mad fit of laughter. Her exhaustion, along with the sheer comic value of a scraggly, queerly-haired, cocky, yet etiquette-deprived bladelord addressing royalty so casually had pushed her over the edge. Her laugh was not practiced; instead, shrill, true, and entirely uneasy. Her chest hurt, and she flitting her hand as an exoneration while she desperately tried to halt her upheaval.

“Why, yes, you do.”

“Climb is so much better at this than I am, Miss… Miss Highness.”

“‘Your Highness.’ It’s no matter. Come, come, sit. Don’t worry, I am quite exhausted myself, so I’ll keep my badgering brief.”

Brain gave an uncomfortable nod, before slipping round the other side of the table and finding a seat. Renner killed the last of her snickers, pointed in the general direction of her tea set, he refusing the offer. Though she no longer had any need to stand, she drew off the back of her chair, carefully bracing her head on her arms such that he could rest it while being attentive.

“So, as Climb had it when he returned, you encountered Sebas at your objective.”

“That’s right… Your Highness.”

“And that Sebas was personally responsible for the death of five of the six Six Arms.”

“Right, Your Highness.”

“And that, for their leader, he did so in a single blow, is that correct?”

This was the first thing that tripped Brain, mouth forming and unforming several words before he finally gave a tepid response.

“...Yes.”

“Hesitation, why so?”

Brain raised his head slightly, eyes drifting off into the distance.

“I don’t know how to describe this in a way you would understand, Your Highness.”

Mm, and perhaps you couldn’t. I thought myself schooled in such violent matters by the last three months, but all that feels so thin now. What knowledge can I say that I have? The enemy eludes me; in its actions on the battlefield, and capabilities that I seemed to learn one after another, minutes behind those around me. You may be right, dear Unglaus; I am a simple princess.

“Then, continue as you might otherwise.”

He gave a quick nod.

”There’s a difference between a single-blow and a ‘single-blow.’ Most men fall to just one strike. One swift cut with a blade and that’s that.”

“Immediately?”

“Well, a fatal blow isn’t necessarily instant. I’ve known some to get up and keep fighting.”

“Mm, until they lose the rest of their blood?”

“Yes… No person in this world is strong. Some stupid farmboy takes up a kitchen knife to defend his mother from bandits and gets gutted, adventurer out in the wilds torn to shreds by an ogre, or something like that. With stronger warriors… look, Your Highness, I practice this stuff. My techniques… my art is based on this. A swift, accurate strike that fatally wounds the enemy in one blow.”

“This wasn’t that?”

“No, it wasn’t… I’ve trained - for a long time, Your Highness. Making a cut like that, it’s not impossible, but it’s not nothing. When Sebas killed Zero, he didn’t just do it easily, he did it casually.”

Renner had no response to offer, instead looking to Brain with head cocked, eyes narrow. Gaze falling to her cup, she counted the little ripples on its surface, then, taking a sip.

Casual. As if Zero posed no threat to him at all. Was not the killing of Gagaran and Tia by Jaldabaoth the same? Evileye said something to the effect of an apology on his part, a mistaken murder. At the very least, it’s clear that the both of them possess a sort of remarkable threat beyond all but one hero of our age.

“Frightening.”

“That’s-”

Brain paused, uncomfortably readjusting in his seat.

“That’s not all.”

Ah. Brain is right. I’m dallying, and as a result, this conversation has done little besides frighten me. I haven’t learn anything of value. I need something firm, a hard fact to reveal the enemy's purpose. Why the girl? Why the interest in my puppy, or in Brain? Let him speak to his urge, and then push this in a useful direction.

“Oh? I’m almost afraid to hear more.”

“Before Sebas killed him, he took Zero’s full force blow without moving.”

“As in, didn’t flinch?”

“As if he was never hit at all.”

I suppose bearing an ultimate blow is more impressive than bearing one. Oh blazes. How am I to ask? Climb was struck dumb by Sebas, constantly praising the man as if he was a legend in the flesh. The way his eyes lit… frustrating. Who’s to say Brain isn't lost to the same awe? Anything I say risks insult. Hm, perhaps it would work though. Retreat a little into my mask, then.

“Eh? Is such a thing achievable by a human?”

Brain jolted in place, Renner’s heart twisting in satisfaction. Whatever she had said had drawn a reaction out of Brain, not merely insult, but the shock of reveal.

Oh, my darling Unglaus, I thought when I saw you strike Gazef all those years ago, it was the fastest I would ever see you jump.

“I couldn’t say.”

You suspect he isn’t, don’t you?

“I think you can.”

Renner’s word cut through the last of Brain’s resistance, the bladelord slinging his head low, and giving a stiff sigh.

“There are certain peaks, Your Highness. Things… things mankind isn’t capable of. Things I didn’t dream of ‘till I saw them.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Sebas was not the only being I saw like that last night, Your Highness.”

What else could he- is he referring to the scaled demon? That was defeated, no? And Climb while Climb called it fearsome, he gave no account of it being a transcendent being. It’s not as if they encountered that dread demon himself, either.

Brain saw Renner’s confusion, giving a tepid smile, before continuing.

“Shalltear Bloodfallen.”

Is… that a name?

“Some months back, I was with… a ‘group-’”

The Death Spreading Brigade. The one that was wiped out, excepting our dear Brain. He’s speaking of the vampire - or perhaps plural - that did so. Momon destroyed one, meaning that last night, he encountered the other.

“The vampire that slaughtered your band. It was here? This morning?”

Brain stared at Renner with a raised eyebrow for some time, only finding himself after a long break.

“That’s correct.”

“That she-”

“The one that attacked us, months prior. How did you know that?”

This night is growing more complex by the hour. Not one, but two beings of fantastic strength make chance appearances on the same night of a demonic incursion? It’s unseemly. Much more is going on here. Why am I involved in this? Why did a course against Eight Fingers set me on a collision with such monsters?

“I’m not deaf to news from the east.”

“...Right.”

At the very least, what happened last night was obvious to such creatures of import. At the very least, there were signs of this incursion that they saw and I missed; Jaldabaoth must have made visible moves. What was it? Mustering troops in the hells? Spells for his breakout? Perhaps elements in the overworld? Something of the like.

“Tell me of your encounter.”

“I clipped her nail.”

It was Renner’s turn to lurch, her mind blanking, before pulling itself back together.

‘Nail’? What does he mean, ‘nail’? Is this some turn of phrase? Some piece of warrior’s speech I am unaccustomed to? A metaphor for ‘skirmish,’ or perhaps to have ‘drawn blood‘? Please, Brain, qualify what you have just said. I beg of thee. Do not sit there, like you are, doing nothing but look at me. Tell me what you said was in jest. That you were tired, and picked the wrongest comedy at the wrongest of moments. Do not tell me, that you, the blade lord who I once watched move like lightning- no, so fast as to be imperceptible to my eye; do not tell me that you with your sword and your skill did nothing but clip this monster’s nail.

“Mister Unglaus, I beg your forgiveness for the insult inherent to my words to come, but this ‘clipping’... was this the best you could have done?”

Brain gave a slow nod, Renner’s chest set to a great tightening as the world around her seemed to leap.

“What is such a monster doing loitering in a demonic incursion?”

“I have no idea.”

—

“Alright. You two should be able to speak with each other now.”

“Thank you, Evileye.”

“The spell has enough mana to go for another few minutes without me. Severing my thread now.”

The sorceress’s hands twitched, before reaching them out and pinching the air between her thumbs and forefingers, then pulling them apart. A low hiss emanated within Renner’s mind as she bid a friendly wave of goodbye to Evileye, who ignored it and promptly left the room. Renner returned to her chair and began to speak internally.

“Apologies for the quite sudden interruption, Master Ainzach.”

“It’s fine, Your Highness. I’m always honored when a member of House Vaiself contacts me through Rettenmaier, but this is the first time I’ve had the opportunity to speak directly to royalty. I hope you’ll forgive me for any mistakes I make with my court etiquette.”

Renner gave a placating nod, having found in her communication with Lakyus that some measure of a person’s movement transferred across a message link; however, akin to speech in the physical presence of another, she found herself perfectly capable of her typical acts, and with the help of her friend, developed a practiced tone and emotional expression that could reach across a hundred leagues. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she responded to Ainzach’s question.

“None such exist for message communication. I wish to inquire as to some details on Darkness’s adventures in the east Mistress Gilre wasn’t able to confirm.”

“To what purpose?”

To understand just how much I’ve let slip my vigil.

Renner was subject to great discomfort, casting her gaze out at the late afternoon sun with nothing but a growing dread. This was not the unspecified anxieties of tomorrow; rather, the concordance of an uncountable number of elements that all revealed themselves in one great dash. Her conversation with Unglaus had completely shaken her of her creeping need to sleep, feeling as awake now as she would on any other day. It was as if she had idly walked along, lost wholly in a girlish daydream, only to awaken and find herself in an evil wood deep into moonless night. She attempted to stay her heart, but found the action fruitless.

“I'm preparing a speech for when House Vaiself issues its reward to him, and I want to make sure I have the proper accounting of his heroics before this disturbance.”

“Is… that truly your cause.”

Renner let out a gentle smile, feeling a welcome yet utterly insufficient relief at Ainzach’s boldness.

I do so appreciate the bravery of adventurers. Had this been a courtier, I’d’ve expected some backhand laced in their words, or some subtle yip in their speech to display their doubt, not such an outright doubt… Chardelon, you’re dallying again. Put on a heroic front.

“No, but that is what you are to say to others if they ask about this conversation. The course of events here has made it clear to some of us in the west that sitting idle on threats of this nature is no longer acceptable. I wish to avoid being caught wrongfooted again. As a friend of House Vaiself, I’m sure you’ll understand my request for discretion.”

“Absolutely, Your Highness.”

“Some general elements I’ve had some trouble divining. When Momon was out east, he was responsible for the doing and slaying of what exactly?”

“Well, the killing he did included a vampire, a sect of Zurrenorn cultists, an undead army, two skeletal dragons, a goblin tribe including five ogres, a gigant basilisk; and the taming of the Wise King of the Forest, and the rescue of the Bareare boy- uh, the grandson of E-Rantel’s Master Alchemist.”

This was her one stalwart mote of hope, that a hero of the ages had settled themselves right in her land. Though she had been kept at a frustrating distance, Momon felt a reliable element, something she could count on in the back of her mind to defend not merely herself or her house, nor even the broader kingdom, but mankind. He had proven himself in his duties now three times over, first in the destruction of the undead hordes, then in the hunting of one of it’s likely masterminds, and now in the counter of a fel force. This was to speak nothing of his companion, who was of such great power in her spellcasting ability that she was able to hold off three of Jaldabaoth’s companions compared to Evileye’s two. They were an element she could understand: people she could speak to, supply, pay to perform tasks, provide favors for, expedite the transport of, defend in front of the court, whisper words to her father for, advocate for the provision of a title, and every other element of her strength, of her agency; one the few pieces of good fortune that had not vanished from her hand.

“Quite accomplished."

“And, for every detail, some escort work in the southwest reaches of Tob. To a place called Carne village, actually.”

Eh? The same place Gazef was nearly laid low by Slaine? That’s an odd coincidence in its own right. No matter.

“When?”

“Hm? Oh, that business with the Warrior-Captain. A few days after, I believe.”

“I see. Onto specifics, the Vampire-Lord Momon slew was this Honyopenyoko, yes?”

“That’s right.”

That he could kill such a thing… it’s something I need to hear. If those two alike can reliably remove such ruinous entities from this world, we will be all the better for it. Still, it took him almost the course of a day to travel here from the east. I must do everything in my power to tie him to this land, to tie him to House Vaiself, and to tie him to Re-Estize. Gods forbid another happening where he was not already on the way; to picture him in Re-Urovale when Jaldabaoth makes his return, or heaven forbid abroad. It’s untenable. Absolutely untenable. I must convince my father to lord him, and to do so quickly. However much of the crown land he must take to do so I do not care, he must have it.

“Rumor in the west holds that he made mention of a second vampire that he was hunting, is that correct?”

That there is still this Shalltear Bloodfallen roaming the world is something I cannot bear. If I must suffer this Sebas masquerading as a butler, so be it. If I must suffer the specter of that dread red devil’s return, so be it. It would not do to let something like Shalltear continue its existence. I must have it exterminated.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What was that vampire’s name?”

“Befuchiririn.”

It took Renner an instant to recognize the sound for what it was, and another for her to realize that it was not what she was expecting.

What? An alias, perhaps? That must be the case. Either way, the name is strange, in as foreign a tongue as the other two. Still, this is an oddity. From Brain’s description of the monster, I expected it to be so confident as to not lie about such things. His description of it not bothering to make an introduction until he prompted it; the way it forgot his existence entirely until it spoke to him next. That Momon would not know it by its name… I could not stand a third of such beings. Perhaps this is a gap in nomenclature, some quirk of the way Momon’s people - whomever they are - name things.

“Eh? Verily?”

“He gave it after the battle.”

Ainzach misunderstands what I’m asking about. ‘After the battle’? I suppose Momon did have a little curtness about him; though, still, I would anticipate him to give the vampire’s true name were it hiding one, unless he did… or does not know it.

Renner flitted her vision a little higher, cocking her head ever so slightly to the left and stilling herself.

How would that be possible, though? Does not the lore of his team make it clear those two came to this place to hunt said anathema? What’s the likelihood that they would not possess the actual names of these things? Is there truly a third? I suspect I must tread lightly here, prod Ainzach in a way that does not reveal my surprise at his previous words, nor the object of my count.

“Ah, in the debrief. Did he make mention of any additional of their kin?”

“No, he spoke only of two, Your Highness.”

Two alone. Two alone? This is disquieting. I suppose there was that other event in that tight span of time, the matter in our eastern fortress itself. Perhaps- perhaps Shalltear was from that clade. Did some of that sect of the living dead take flight?

“Mm. Pertaining to the Exhumation, of the Zurrenorn cult in E-Rantel, had any escaped?”

“No.”

Such a flat response. How could he be so sure?

“Dead to the last- er, redead?”

“‘Destroyed,’ Your Highness, and yes.”

Renner felt herself slowly deflate. Every explanation she could proffer for the discrepancy presented, every excuse, had all turned out insufficient. She spun on a little more, mind groping in every direction she could think, but she found no sure handhold. Dissatisfied, she finished out her cup, and made to pour herself more with her set.

I need more. If not name, what about physical description? From what Brain provided me, I almost suspect that vampire encountered by that adventurer team Red Glaive was Shalltear, not Honyopenyoko. Brain spoke of a thrall, and though he made no mention of beauty, I suspect that was merely something lost to his terror. Ask him.

“Ah, all correct then. Tell me, what of their descriptions?”

“Well, silver hair and a large maw for Honyopenyoko’s leach-like form. As well as that red and purple ballgown of hers when she returned to a human-like form.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

That matches Brain’s description of his Vampire almost exactly. Silver haired adolescent who warped into a monster. I suppose it makes sense that it and the other would look alike; sisters, perhaps?

“And the other?”

“We never received one from Momon… As I recall, he merely recognized the description given by Red Glaive’s sole survivor - Brita - as being Honyopenyoko herself.”

Renner’s newly full cup fell out of her hand and splattered the table she was lifting it from.

"W-what?"

How is that possible? If… if Shalltear and Honyopenyoko are alike in appearance, then how- how could Momon have distincted them from that description? The one that Brita gave, all those months prior. I remember it, and Ainzach has just bolstered my recognition. Honyopenyoko is destroyed, vanquished. The battlefield was scorched for it, so thoroughly ruined that it had itself turned to sand. Shalltear continues to exist, though. Shalltear continues to exist?! How- how is that possible?!

“Well, Your Highness, it appears as if this link is drawing thin-”

It’s not possible! It can’t be! Brain must have been mistaken in his identification of the vampire he saw earlier. He mentioned a white outfit, a mask, blond hair! Further, it didn’t even recognize him! That’s- that’s it! He was merely mistaken. Gods, Chardelon, you’ve gone and worked yourself up for nothing, for nothing!

“-I appreciate your having messaged me-”

Though, Brain was certain. Absolutely certain. The style of speech. The voice. The way it dismissed him. The way it mocked him. The way it approached him, with complete and utter fearlessness. With complete and utter confidence. The way it disdained him. Its hand, which he knew the motion and dimensions of before it reached for him. Its nail, something burned so deeply into his soul that he doffed his profession as sellsword and reconsidered the purpose of his entire life.

“-If you wouldn’t mind expressing my regard to Master Momon next time you speak-”

And when all that was done, the way it forgot him.

“-I would appreciate-”

The link snapped, and to her horror, Renner felt a screaming of that sense inside that marked when she had come upon a lie.

—

There’s no- there’s no sense in panic. Chardelon, stay yourself.

Renner paused, returning her quill to its inkwell. Pressing her hands against her face, she rubbed her closed eyes, watching the sparks catch and feeling more than typical dizziness.

There’s no sense in panic. Nor fright. Nor rage. Falling to such does nothing. Hold fast, Chardelon. Hold fast, then resume.

While her mind whirled on, her body was not given to the same sort of stamina, and in the painful motion of opening them, found herself slightly out of her previous position, having dragged inadvertently to the left.

Ah, perhaps I'm being a tad reductive. I ought to be allowed a little panic. What else could keep me awake?

Renner had never before known all the many varied flavors of exhaustion, and with each passing hour of her now second evening spent awake - a longer leg than she had ever done before - she felt herself stumbling unwittingly and unwelcome into new sensations. Her form had begun to rebel against her: her mastery over its movements and actions slowly slipping from her: time seeming to blur even with her eyes open; the jarring distinction between recalling this day’s morning and the previous. The latest of these had been an aversion to magelight - something about the sharp, ghostly they threw off an agony to her. Ere night came fully, she had substituted these wholly for lamplight, having snatched it from its place in her drawing room’s armoire. With a quick stint around the palace - a place which was only now beginning to bustle with the wearied men of the night prior that had bothered to dredge themselves up - she had taken the rest of what she needed and slipped back into her bedroom for an evening spent alone.

Reaching her arms high above her head, she tugged on them, drawing them out a little further as she laced her fingers and rolled her wrists. Exhaling, she dropped from her stretch and took a swift sip of her tea, savoring its heat, before setting her cup down and returning to her labor. Very rarely was her desk a necessary indulgence, Renner in almost all cases simply working at her at her vanity. Maids had a habit of slipping into drawers and withdrawing whatever was writ within to share with others, and if signs of the desk’s use lingered without its product, salacious rumors within a day’s end were a near guarantee. This was not the case tonight, and her fold-out was spread with a number of maps, spare stationary, inks, quills, and a ruler and compass.

Repeat those events of the Long Summer, perhaps skipping all the many actions I and the Blue Roses were taking.

Renner hung for a moment, before shuffling her desk around to lay out a defense map for the ranges east of E-Rantel. Finding the fortress city at the map’s edge, she traced roads out northeast, following them up to their bend near the forest of Tob, continuing on past the shadow of Azerlisia into Count Bajan’s demesne, searching a sparse cluster of settlements on its outskirts, finding her location of desire.

Upper Fire six, word comes to the palace that Imperial Knights have taken to torching hamlets on the border, Gazef, along with the warrior band is dispatched. Upper Fire ten, Gazef and the warrior band are lured into Carne, and after encountering an enigmatic masked magic caster who slew a band of ‘Imperial’ knights via a work of necromancy, are then set upon by the Sunlit Scripture. Most of the warrior band is slain, Gazef is about to be slain, before being rescued by this Ainz Ooal Gown. The Sunlit Scripture is “driven off” by this Ainz Ooal Gown, an account only provided to Gazef by this Gown and one that seems increasingly false.

Renner made for her leftmost inkwell, retrieving her quill and using a violet ink to mark the village, scrawled in thin text the name of the event and its date. Staring at the words a moment longer, Renner flicked her eyes back west, bearing down on the fortress city.

Sometime in the next few days - damn you Ainzach for not giving me specifics - Momon and Nabe register with the adventurers guild in E-Rantel, immediately taking up an escort mission that takes them to Carne. On this escort, Momon - I believe - slays a goblin tribe, and tames the Wise King of the Forest, a legendary beast from deep in the wicked wood of Tob. It is in this next week that we have our upheaval here, a scheme likely years in the making from Boullope, my brother, Eight Fingers, Six Arms, the Death Spreading Brigade, and a handful of contacts, craftsmen, and traitors. This fails completely, and I, my father, and Gazef all live through the darkest hours of the sixteenth.

Renner replaced the quill in its well and retrieved another, this one stained in black. With this, she marked the date of Darkness’s arrival, and drew out a line along their likely route of travel, interspacing events and dates as needed before arriving at Carne. This sort of bespoke drafting of deduction was something she found dangerous and foolhardy, but her faculties had been so greatly taxed by the strain of the day that she found herself unable to proceed without such aids. What she was to do with them was something she had yet to decide, that question shoved off into the future. Finishing her scrawl, her gaze crept ever so slightly north of E-Rantel, only a league above.

On the night of the nineteenth, Shalltear Bloodfallen and her thralls literally slake themselves on the freshly returned Death Spreading Brigade, the group having slipped away from their post north of Re-Estize to return home. This results in the near complete destruction of their band, Brain Unglaus only barely escaping after a direct encounter with the thing. That day, Guild Master Ainzach had sent adventurer teams out north of E-Rantel to hunt for the highwaymen, Bloodfallen encountering one such group and slaying it, yet leaving two survivors, one who slips away in the woods, and the other who is recovered after she repossesses her mind.

A new color for the vampire; this time, a lively vermillion.

Momon returns to E-Rantel by the twentieth at the latest, and is present for the great work that Zurrenorn performs in its graveyard, and along with his sorceress and mount, destroy the horde and slay its leaders. This included among them two skeletal dragons - things notably immune to magic, something his companion is dependent on. By the twenty-first, Momon and Nabe have been brought to the adventurers guild along with other high ranking teams, a meeting at which Momon provides the name Honyopenyoko for the vampire that assaulted the adventurer team and reveals his eighth tier spell sealing crystal, and then forge north along with another team to hunt down this vampire. They return that evening, having performed the deed, though the other team was slain to the last. This sight is then later examined and determined to have been utterly ruined, and this is taken as proof of his claim that he has slain Honyopenyoko despite him producing no body - something which isn’t atypical for the destruction of undead, but neither did he proffer an article.

Renner returned her implement, then nestled a finger under a small fold in the map, leveraging the whole thing up and withdrawing one underneath. This was another map, though at a much larger scale, rendering the whole of the kingdom’s lands in low detail for decorative purposes. Dragging it up and over the other, she swiftly flattened it with her dexter hand, using her other to quickly plot colored dots in place of where she had written on the Duchy’s map.

Leap forward nearly two months to Lower Fire, and two individuals identifying as a merchant’s daughter and butler arrive in town from the east, having - by their words - traveled from E-Rantel. The former is known for her haughtiness, rudeness, and general ill disposition, something the distinguished older man by the name of Sebas makes up for. At some point, Sebas encounters a girl thrown out from her brothel, and takes her in. On the third, a corrupt inspector and bladesman - the Phantom Devil of Six Arms - attempt to extort a bribe from Sebas about this matter, claiming he has committed an act of slavery. That day, my puppy - who was returning from a message run - and a vagrant Brain making his way west, have a simultaneous encounter with Sebas, saving an urchin from bullies, fighting off five assassins, and then going to the brothel and killing its guards to the last, capturing the Phantom Devil and the head of the Slavery Division.

Another new color, this one ochre, she pausing to jot a number of estimated dates for their arrivals in specific towns, and their likely routes. Finished, she ripped away that map and grabbed yet another, this of the city of Re-Estize, this the map she had used to present her strategy to the party leaders of the adventurer band. Seeing it again, she flinched, unpleasant sensation seeming to flow from the thing. She made to swallow, but her mouth was much to dry. She downed her cup, and scrambled to refill; that sorted, she continued, marking Sebas’s path around the city and his temporary manor of residence.

Hold fast, Chardelon… A day later, on the fourth, I make to close my personal war against Eight Fingers, strike my deal with Zanac and Raeven, and plot the end of the syndicate, drawing together a varied body of slapdash forces to leap on the opportunity left by Climb’s little adventure. At some point that day, Tuare is kidnapped - likely by Six Arms personally - and a note left for Sebas for him to come to the compound. Then, somehow, between the last scouting the Blue Roses conduct that day, and the time of our scheduled assaults, fel-things from the netherworld slip from the ground, and slay Eight Fingers in those places to the last, then stripping them of anything worth anything. I launch my attacks, Gagaran, Tia, and Evileye encountering emptied targets, before the later make their way to Hilma’s manor and encounter a demon of incredible power, something only Evileye is able to lay low. Before they can finish the thing, though, a dread devil appears by the name of Jaldabaoth, slays Gagaran and Tia with one spell, and then sets himself upon Evileye, before an intrepid Momon falls from the sky and intervenes - having been one of those heroes Raeven called to my aid. A fight ensues, Jaldabaoth retreating.

For the fiend, carmine, Renner marking the etheric path of his teleport with crosses. Making further elaboration of the map, she drew out all the points struck by Jaldabaoth’s forces, scribing the time of the last scout performed by the Blue Roses and the first time her forces saw them afterward. While for most targets, the spans of time began sometime midday and ended nearabouts the time of the Blue Roses assault, a scattered few did not have the latter time until past midnight - minor locations like courier stations that she intended to strike more so as cleanup than anything else. As was typical of the demon scout actions, these had been completely emptied, nothing remaining but the dust. With these markings, the Sebas anomaly was even more jarring, one yellow mark ensconced within a sea of red.

At that time, Climb and his fellows encounter Sebas at the compound, do their business, and at its conclusion of their second little adventure together - notably, something demons do not interfere with - and upon Tuare’s rescue, a flame wall goes up, encircling most of the city’s storehouses. Inside, more fiends from the netherrealms make their business of murdering and stealing and all things foul, their commander proclaiming his intention to obtain an object of power. We, the forces of man, strike back early on the morning of the fifth, with adventurers as our front. I predict the enemy’s behavior, use that to slip Darkness through the line, and we take our victory by way of the enemy’s apparent mistake, and Jaldabaoth proclaims defeat and retreat. In addition to the ransacking and wanton killing, a great taking seems to have taken place, many thousands of our citizens not slain nor sacrificed but simply missing.

Finishing the last, Renner disarmed herself of her quill, eyes tracing the thin annotations back and forth, lips slipping a little agape. Etched like this, the conclusion was much too rote.

Six beings. The parallels are obvious. Six beings of transcendent, unimpeachable power. Beings in groups of three, two, and one spare. Momon and Nabe fought the vampire and lied about their actions, giving it a false identity and claiming it to be dead when it was not. Sebas and Jaldabaoth, two beings working in concert. Momon and Jaldabaoth came into conflict, yes, but Darkness and Sebas are both from out east. These four are - Sebas, Momon, Nabe, and Shalltear - all arriving in E-Rantel in relatively quick succession, though for Momon and Nabe this may be considered Raeven’s doing. One who is not yet directly connected nor is yet to reappear is Gown, yet whom Momon and Nabe appear to shaddow. The question then is a matter of relation. Are relations between the four and two hostile - as it would so seem - or is Momon is as amicable to Jaldabaoth as he is to Shalltear? Well, the former feigned a loss too.

Renner turned away, spying what she could of the fifth’s last light beyond her window. The dusk had already come and went, the sun lost beneath the horizon, only fading streaks of orange staining the darkening sky. It was exactly like a thousand such skies she had seen, something that made the moment all the queerer for her. An incredible weight came down on her, the steady detachment she had felt for her last sprint vanishing as if it had never existed at all. Her chest seized. With a few maps, a few inks, and a few minutes, she had outlined a conspiracy between six beings that had been described by all the finest warriors and witches she knew as being fearfully powerful; beings which had mimicked humanity; beings which had intersected her life and the lives of her fellows every which way; two of whom she had interacted with personally, the one she could see of such unearthly beauty that Renner knew no equal to her; one which had utterly transformed Brain, and yet completely forgotten him; one of which had smitten Evileye so much that she verged on madness; one of which had saved Gazef’s life - and with it, preserved Re-Estize’s entire political order; one of which had outmaneuvered Renner’s scheme completely and ripped her victory out from under her; one which had taken interest in Climb. It was the sort of grandeur reserved for scripture, and yet she, a lonesome princess burrowed somewhere in an evening, had found it.

This is in his favor, isn’t it? He is to be revered. To be cherished. A hero of men greater than all else. Jaldabaoth; a wicked villain whose name appears in no prior lore. Momon, also a figure who was unknown to us but two months ago. Of course they would fight. Of course they would come to a draw. It’s so… so masterful. A story, so electric as to be believed. A story that fooled me. Momon is not merely in league with the enemy, he is the enemy. This is not a matter of axis, is it? I have not stumbled upon a concordat, nor an alliance.

The last of Renner’s equilibrium burned away like a hair taken to candle flame.

What I have found is an organization.

—

Her break had crept slowly, her movements growing more erratic and less tempered for the better part of two hours, until she had once found herself raging, going completely nonlinear, with wild tears running down her face, and an overwhelming desire to dash out of her room, out into the night, to find Climb and Lakyus and perform that retreat she had imagined all those months prior from Barbro. She had not done this, managing to arrest herself just enough to hide her cries from the maids and whomever else stalked the palace at night. She found herself unable to still, at one point, shuddering so intensely that she nearly slipped off her feet, saved from the floor with a timely catch of a nearby chair. Animalistic urges overcame her - panics, fears, sorrows - but she was never freed of her mind, it disgorging some new terrifying fact of this reality every few minutes. It was untenable, and she agreed with herself to perform a withdrawal to her bed, and yet, when she pressed her hand into the comforter, she suddenly felt the place loathsome, as if it was where she would go to die. She instead chose the far corner of her room, under - and thus, hidden from - the window, stumbling down onto her rump and balling up in a way she had not done since she was a little girl. This was where she was now, tears for the most part dry and hiccups far between.

The sealing crystal, no wonder I was never able to make the math resolve. It wasn’t used, was it? With a wizard like that Gown, likely not. What does that mean? What does it mean that he proffered a crystal of the eighth tier as a simple excuse? Nothing- nothing can do that. No one. The monster of the east only knows to the sixth. The sixth! Call- call it another lie from Arwintar, a deception disseminated by its academy. Say he knows to the seventh. Say he knows to the eighth! That doesn’t explain this. He couldn’t display something like that. An eighth- a frozen eighth tier spell stored in solid mana is not the enemy revealing its hand, it’s them hiding it.

The shadow of laughter escaped her mouth, a few chittered exhalations as she found her mouth curled unwillingly into a smile.

What did he fight there? What spell rended the earth so completely that soil turned to sand? What was unleashed on that spot? What did so? What did so?!

Another painful blundering on through, thoughts having a nasty way of interposing themselves between one instant and the next, mauling her as she passed.

It’s pointless to ask. A world-ending magic, plausibly. Something fit for the ending of mankind. The rending of this land from mountain to sea. Mayhap this whole city be turned to sand, or to dust, or any other myriad lifeless powders. Mayhap I be, another of the many millions annihilated so utterly that the only trace of my being here is the silt a traveler brushes out of their eye as they arrive in that great desert rumored to once be a kingdom of men. A new doom, then. Transmutation to raw material. I wonder if I were to beg, they would turn me to gold?

Renner’s gentle whooping stopped, a slight sigh escaping her as she held off more tears. Her face had already begun to dry, and she had no desire to ruin a good lament by drawing it out. She began to chide herself for her earlier bolts ahead, her desire but hours prior to know her enemy now seeming foolish. To her great defeat, she found that this thinking was not something she could halt, the great churning of her mind continuing on whether she wanted to or not.

All this was here. All this was here months ago, and yet I did not notice. Perhaps I would know by now if I did. Why not? Simple distraction? Lost in the girlish flits of my youth? My little war. That tiny home I planned to carve for me and my love? There are other things I’m missing, no doubt. Signs further in any direction. But none of that seems to matter, for it has come here; come here and taken root.

Her head lolled down onto her shoulder, she again criticizing her thoughts. Defeat was useless, depression doubly so. Were she to live, it would require exacting accuracy of thought, even greater precision of her performance. She needed to grasp her foe in perfect detail; absolute, complete knowledge of them, their capabilities, and their plans. Falling to despair would do none of that, instead burning what little, uncertain time she had left.

It’s all a preparation, isn’t it? It’s the only way I have to account for their actions. Characters, as they were, stepping out onto the plain and introducing themselves. Quilting the beginnings of lore, of legend. Why expend his demons in the hunting of adventurers? Why bother taking the kingdom of its coin? Why bother being known at all? Why the act? The creeping forward? It’s all a preparation, something concrete in the distance. Something they need the hearts and capitals of lowly things for.

It's a slow, ponderous thing. A steady plot to encircle the kingdom, nudge it steadily in their preferred direction. Probing its weaknesses, culling its strong, and ingratiating in its halls of power. Words of favor will ring for all. Further, convenient, versatile evildoers. Another vampire for the hunting, one whose lore can be written however the enemy desires. A devil who can appear- rather, be applied anywhere, a monstrously powerful and devious foe who is at once loathsome, conniving, wicked, and defeatable. Heroes who can be used much the same.

This is not limited to storybook matters, either. Sebas and his mistress - I will restrain from naming her seventh in this - have done a great deal of market investigation. Making purchases, establishing ties, creating history with the Merchants guild - with the Magicians, too. They aren’t aping for destruction, for a barren land, for one great slaughter where they crunch all of the kingdom or perhaps all of mankind underfoot. Perhaps they would enjoy such things, but no, this is not that. This is conquest, not mere subjugation, not mere subordination, but complete subsumption.

Renner adjusted herself slightly, raising her head to trace the patterns of her ceiling. She had never once before seen her room from this position, all the little reliefs in its form cast anew by the gentle halo of her lamp’s mantle. There was a serenity to the sight, one of the little oddities she tended to stumble upon in the mazy corridors of Valencia. She was struck by the deep physicality of her space; that everything around her truly existed, material things that clung to the world the same way she did.

Before, I marked the Four and Six as not being enthroned above, rather, that the Godhead was a mount unto itself. And, that if they did not spring from divine wells, that they were things beyond us, unknowns from without the knowledge of mankind. What if they are not merely without I, but without all? Things so transcendent, so supreme, that mankind can do nothing in their shadow but be slain? Not as would be a cur by a baker tired of chasing off mongrels begging for scraps, but as a weevil cooked alive in his oven. In the face of that, are not the insects that catch the attention of greater things truly doomed? All the land is set for a ripping out, pressing down on all the people and polity ‘till their bodies pop?

What of I? What do I have? Am I indistinguishable? Another frail thing for the quashing? Distinct as I am from the rest of my clade, my body is akin to them, and my wits seem frail compared to the enemy. Jaldabaoth certainly ran a right loop around me, though, perhaps I fed directly into his plot. Making the battle true and pitched, a devious scheme to slip Momon through when - absent me - they would have manipulated events to that end anyway. I have been a useful implement, a lever to thrust this way and that, bolstering their narrative wherever needed. If I am lucky, perhaps my actions have earned their favor, and I will be used ever more until the sun is alway lost beneath the horizon.

Renner considered the matter a moment longer, before deciding it was dead, and reeling herself back to another point she had left unresolved.

Still, frightening that they would know about my assault on Eight Fingers. Raeven surely did not give the full breadth of detail to Momon when he hired him, and I did not disseminate full orders to anyone but the Blue Roses until later that evening. Did they work with only a few hours of warning? Seems overdifficult, even for abominations. More likely, a traitor or perhaps an imposter was slipped somewhere into the ranks of my forces, a thing for the listening and for harbinging, and it was its call that roused the enemy.

Though, how did they know to do that? Those missives of mine were sent early, but that only provides them a few hours at best. I only conceptualized the plan a night prior, but spoke nothing but the outline to Climb - only describing it to the Blue Roses on the morrow - and the evidence it was built on was only provided to me the morning of the third. Perhaps this group had already taken a similar of Cygnaeus’s notes earlier, but that shouldn’t have informed them as to the specifics of my retaliation. Have I been so thoroughly exceeded? Predicted and accounted for?

That seems… untrue. They struck what was in the note, and what I had made mention of to the rest. Those two courier stations - those ones hidden in taverns. Though, I named only one of them a target, dismissing the other and telling Tina to think nothing of it… No, not to ‘think’ nothing of it, but to ‘speak’ nothing of it. The two I mentioned to her were struck, the third was not.

Renner twitched, then, curled up a little tighter. The room around her suddenly seemed foreign, akin to the dark wood of her nightmare, shadows seeming to tower larger and reach deeper. Her eyes danced in the black. She would need to keep vigil ‘till morning.

—

[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 6]

“Renner, you look tired.”

“Mm, quite. I haven't- didn’t have a restful sleep.”

I have to speak to her about this, but how am I to do it?

Renner met Lakyus’s gaze, her mossy eyes breaking away and giving Renner a thorough lookover. Renner’s appearance was slapdash, her hour spent fixing it in lue of Lakyus’s arrival wholly inadequate. A proper remake of her appearance was something beyond her, her hands trembling far too much to do the thin and precise work her typical look required, nor could she summon maids to assist her, the maps she had drafted still sitting furled on her desk. Likewise, she could take no proper washing of herself, the risk of slumbering in the tub too great a threat. Sleep was a vice. Instead, she hoped that today, she could get away with the very basics: an unwrinkled dress, foundation to hide the worst of her dark circles, and hair done with the least elaboration possible.

Chardelon, find- find a way through this, with everything you can muster. How am I to talk to Lakyus?

The enemy had been listening, ears folded up in the thick summer air. Scrying, divination, illusion, the method did not matter. The enemy had heard every word spoken in her presence. The enemy had seen her deduction. Seen her fit. Seen her sink. They knew she knew of them. The only hope now was to keep herself just the right amount of panicked, imbalanced in just that right way that would not have the world disgorge abominations around her for her seizing back through ethereal doors.

A hidden warning would not work. She would mark the word and break in performance just a twip - a widening of the eyes, a lurching in her speech. It would doom us both. Code is impossible too. I could surely speak it, but it would slip past her notice - and, even if she had learned it, would fall to that previous trap of mine.

“The same for me. This business with the statuette is… well, unsettling.”

“Any specifics about it?”

This- this would be prime for that. Is there some way to branch off these words? Some secret scream?

“The grader who cast magic to evaluate it collapsed on the spot.”

“A ward or curse?”

“No, he just swooned.”

“Oh. Right.”

No, the endeavor is pointless, isn’t it? Lakyus is of no greater capacity than anyone else, but my evesdroppers are lithe as I, hanging in wait above my head. Anything I say, they’ll know first.

Renner whinged. The conversation was going completely uncontrolled, she only a passive participant who could only stay well clear of the crisis at hand. The world of men was to come to an end, the Kingdom to be destroyed. She needed true allies, those that would never betray her, never turn, never fall to the hands of the enemy. Lakyus was one, and yet Renner was incapable of speaking to her, communicating the vast and terrible danger lurking just out of sight.

What of Lakyus and I? Are our years of friendship for naught? Surely she knows my intricacies, the minute details of a girl such as myself. What if I were to leave a tell? Some sign that things are not right. Lifting my cup with my dexter, perhaps? Would that work?

“Enough talk about dark things. I… must admit, I’ve been looking forward to this much more than I’ve let on.”

Dammit! A new topic? How can I- Gods, there’s no convincing way to talk her back. Assent.

“Eh?”

“You have no idea how much they rip into me for doing things like this.”

“They do tend to, don’t they?”

If I- If I act out of sorts as a way to alert her, she’ll remark before she’ll understand and destroy us both. Perhaps- perhaps if we are at a distance, conversation between us would be less obvious. Message?

“It’s not even humorous at this point.”

“Mm.”

There’s no telling if message is safe. The manatic expanse is theirs. They have magics that well exceed anything we are capable of. Damn this! I never- I never thought that I would need such subtle implements. Damn you, Lakyus! Damn you for spurning me! For arresting me from my wild explorations. I could have had this! A system of motions of such speech.

“Renner?”

“Mm?”

“You seem overquiet.”

A mistake. I’m being too clipped. I haven’t a clue what to say. Proffer an excuse, something true.

“I want for a little rest, is all.”

“We can do this another day.”

“No, no, it’s no matter. No matter at all. All things well to be.”

There’s nothing, is there? Nothing I may do. I’m spent. I’m utterly spent. I have no way to speak to her on this, never mind-

Renner heard the door to her room unlatch, flitting her eyes to see a hasty Climb enter. The sight of him was oddly fearful, a reminder of what warm future now seemed a daydream. Though she felt her chest draw tighter, she looked on, resolving herself not to embitter the sight of him.

Climb, how I wish to see you. To eat up every span of you. Devour all that I can, licking up the little bits and picking my nails for a second helping. Climb, spasm of my tongue and pop of my lips. You are a thing for the taking, for the keeping of. For the ownership of. Were I given the option, I would have carved out a clause in my emancipation that named you the one exception. So, come and sit for a time, and send away all my nightmares about tomorrow’s absolution.

“Apologies, Your Highness. The Magician Guild’s Master of Wands and Staves wanted my report personally. Lady-”

“Lakyus.”

“Lakyus. Sorry. Are you here-”

“For the bloodleaf.”

“Right.”

Darling, I ordered you to come.

“Climb, come find a seat.”

Climb bowed, lifting himself over, before gingerly slipping beside Renner around her table.

If I am truly fated to end, I ought to take what little enjoyment I can of this, yes? This… this matter of conspiracy can wait until after.

In its center was the purpose of their meet: a platter layed out with a number of sliced fruits, sweets, pastries, and otherwise, all encompassing her tea-set, three cups layed out and her pot already having been filled with boiled water, beside it sitting a stout clay jar. It was the celebration intended for the defeat of Eight Fingers, but, as Renner suspected, this was now made irrelevant by the enemy’s decapitation, she had felt no harm in setting it for today with Lakyus. Renner lifted off the lid, revealing many tongue-like shapes set one overtop another. She reached the fingers of her right hand and withdrew three of the finger length maroon leaves, setting one in each cup.

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Of course, Climb.”

This done, she went for the pot, slipping her hand underneath the handle and lifting it. Bringing the pot over, she used her other hand to pinch the stem of a leaf, holding it in place while she made her improper pour. The water stained immediately, turning a deep and pungent red as the leaf somehow shriveled. The cup filled much too quickly, and before she could tilt it away, its contents overtopped the rim and scalded her hand.

Why?!

“Renner-”

“Your Highness!”

She winced, taking in a sharp pull of breath between her teeth. She reflexively gripped the cup tighter, shaking it such that more spilled onto her hand, leaking to a great jerk where she did more of the same. Climb swiftly grabbed the pot away from her, Renner finally letting go and bringing her hand to her mouth to suckle off a little of what had burned her, heat building in her cheeks the same way as it had done in her hand.

Of all the times to fumble a pour, today? Now?! Chardelon, you’re falling apart.

Climb seemed lost as to what to do, returning the now dirtied pot to the center of the platter. Lakyus reached out right after.

“Renner, give me your hand.”

Renner held it out, Lakyus grabbing it with her own, flipping it palm side up, and flowing her magics into it. A more gentle warmness drove out the painful one, pains and aches from the rest of her form also sloughing. The skin lost its growing redness, back to the same tones as before. The moment was slipping from her, mind ground to bits.

“Thank you.”

“Renner, you look terrible.”

“R-right.”

“Renner, are you okay?”

“M-m. I certainly am.”

“No you’re not. You’re exhausted. Look, we needn’t do this tea now. When was the last time you slept?”

I need to- I need to say something.

“No, it’s quite alright. I- uh-”

“Renner, don’t evade me, when was the last time you slept?”

“Morning. Morning of the fourth.”

“Morning- You’ve gone through two continuous days?!”

No, wait, my out! I just, I need her to vanquish my exhaustion, just as she did my burn. Yes, yes I ask that.

“Yes. I don’t suppose I could- uh, entreat you to bestow a little of your restorative magics, could I?”

“What?”

“This matter with Jaldabaoth, I- I am perhaps… uh, a tad bit shaken-”

“‘A tad-’ Renner, you're going to bed.”

The world lept, her room seeming to jink and take her along with it, delirium bleeding in.

“No, I-”

Sleep is the province of the enemy. No, not the enemy, The Enemy. Everyone is sleeping. I can’t be forced down now. What silencing of me would they enact in my sleep? They know I know. They know I know!

“Climb, come round and take her up from the other side. Oh, don’t look at me like that! We both know she wouldn’t mind!”

Renner’s head jerked to follow Lakyus’s movements, before she could reckon it, her friend was lifting her out of her chair from the right. Climb took up the other side, the two overlapping their arms behind her, the firm caress of Lakyus’s bare arm and the cold embrace of Climb’s armor pulling her up and out of her chair.

“I need to speak with you.”

“We can speak on the morrow. You need to sleep.”

Renner was already moving, legs stumbling over one another as she was carried to bed.

“Restore-”

“We won, Renner.”

“No, we’ve-”

“-We won. And yes, Jaldabaoth took flight and yes he brought many with him, but it’s not an immediate danger. Not yet. We destroyed the bulk of his forces and shook him of his objective. We’ve taken a victory.”

You’ve lost! You’ve been tricked into it! You have done nothing! The Enemy is among you, not merely in your ranks, but at your head! They have taken the capital of men, the labor of men, the hearts of men! How am I to shake this kingdom of that? To awaken you? To rally you? How else am I to live?! I am not one of you! It is not right for me to perish alongside you! I am the seer, the knower and doer of things! Why am I condemned to die alongside you?! Damn you, Lakyus! Damn you!

Renner was set down onto the bed, Climb reaching around to rip out the covers and get her under them. Renner bucked, trying to draw herself up, but a placating Lakyus held her fast.

“I just want you to get some rest.”

“That’s- that’s right, Your Highness.”

His voice stirred something in her, and Renner came upon the worst of her epitomes yet.

The conversation I had with Zanac and Raeven. The Enemy knows of my Climb. Of my darling love! They know of him! No, no! Damn this! Why?! Why must I lose him to the stamping out of insects?

“We’ll be here on the morrow, alright?”

This is pointless, isn’t it?

Renner went limp, falling back onto the bed, all the energy of her form crashing out and leaving her powerless. She could make no impulse, merely able to look upon the two readying her for bed. Lakyus, now convinced of Renner’s stillness, stepped aside to fill her a glass of water from the pitcher on her nightstand; a blushing Climb working her out of her flats and setting them on the ground. Her head sunk into the pillow, and, with a little lag, she joined Climb in the covering of herself.

“Renner, is that alright?”

“No- no entry.”

“For the maidstaff? Got it.”

Renner finally fought her way fully under the covers, the last of her desire to rebel lost somewhere between the sheets and the comforter. Pitching her to the side, she saw a wryly smiling Lakyus and a fretting Climb getting the last of the blankets in place. With a tentative pat from the latter, Renner caught his gaze, a little glimmer hidden deep in his eyes. With that, the two were off, the pair striding away as Renner’s sight blurred and faded away.

—

[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 7]

Renner awoke in the black. Whether it was past midnight or not, she did not know, but she could feel that electricity in her flesh that told her she had rested completely. Her eyes whirred open, her rubbery tongue probing the dry, off-tasting teeth in her mouth, feeling that itchy swelling in her loins that urged her to relieve herself. She herself drew up through the hazy tickling of her muscles and flushed her mouth with a glass of water, following it with a second. Then, drew herself up out of bed, planting her two feet and rising completely. She reached behind her neck, remembering the dimensions and articulations of her fingers as she found the tied ribbon on the back of her neck and undid it, its silhouette embossed on her skin from the hours spent sleeping on it. That undone, she grasped either end, pulling them apart and peeling off the talcy fabrics clinging to her skin. Fresh night air rushed into the gap, she giving a little gasp as her back was once again exposed to the air.

Enough of a mouth created, she gave a jerk downward to expose her shoulders, before letting go of the ribbons and using her hands to free her arms of her sleeves one at a time. That done, she caught that dangling cloth on her flanks and tugged it, ripping herself of her dress’s hold. Once she fought it to her hips, it fell away onto a stiff pile on the floor, so soaked in sweat that she struggled to free her legs from it. Her undergarments went next, dropping them with little fanfare on the spot. She reached down and gathered up the mass, feet pittering across rugs and tile before she dropped it into the laundry basket. Returning to her desk where she had last left her lantern, she retrieved it, opening the topmost drawer and patting it until she felt the sparker, drawing it out and using it to light the mantle. Back in its glow, she carried it into the bathroom, setting it on a sink for the washing of hands.

Letting the handle drop and clink against the glass, she turned around, moving to the corner of the room where a hearth with low smoldering coals was set upon with four copper buckets already filled with water. Foisting one up, she lumbered it over to the tub, catching its bottom on the tub’s lip and slowly pouring it in. Replacing it in the pile, she did the same with a second, before setting that down and lowering herself into the tub, water only rising to below the midpoint of her calves. With all the implements and soaps she had nearby, she washed herself, scrubbing herself of all the grime and stench that clung to her, using a cream to gently rid her legs of hair, resting a hot washcloth on her face and pressing it between the cast of her features, and giving a thorough cleaning of all her folds and nooks. Satisfied, she undid the stop at the bottom of the tub, letting the water drain away as she rinsed herself in the contents of the third bucket, then using the fourth to wet and clean her hair, filling and emptying it of all manner of aid, combing it out until she caught nothing on each pass, and drying herself.

Again rinsed, she applied an exfoliant to her skin, rubbing it in and swirling it with her palms, little motes of skin falling off with it, of such vigor that she was radiant and shining by the time she had finished. Then, setting to her face, she applied a little more of her wash, this time mixing it with the strained juices of a yuzu, scouring all she could. Face again dried, she then went about cleaning her teeth, gently biting and tugging with the bristled end of a root, then running it across her teeth as she continually rinsed and spat out with water, then swallowing a moist paste of crushed herbs, to which she then chased with more water.

Leaving the bathroom along with her lamp, she next went to her closet, dressing herself in fresh undergarments. Shuffling through the containers, she eventually selected an aureolin dress and donned herself in it, slipping it over and threading its sides together, then going in with her hands to push out all the frills and even all the tufts at her collar and cuffs. Matching it with a pair of cream colored heels, she slipped them on and buckled them.

That sorted, she went to vanity and began to do her makeup. For this, lamplight alone would not suffice, and she went for her hand mirror, flipping it open for the clear and bright picture of her it produced. With that in her dexter, she layered on foundations, concealers, blushes, rouges, eyeliners, and otherwise, none to any great effect besides sharpening her already deft appearance. Lastly, she went for her nails, pulling the lid off of a small jar and gingerly dipping a needle into it, a quivering drop of that same cream color as her shoes clinging to it as she with drew it; tapping the drop onto her right thumbnail, it near instantly spread across the entirety of it, setting as quickly as did all magical polishes. She worked through the rest of her nails, eventually returning the lid to the jar and setting down the needle, sighing as she finished. Almost an hour had passed since she had awoken, Renner being as thorough with her appearance as she knew how.

There is nothing. No flight. No escape. No way to slip over the hill and out of sight. I am not alone, nor will I ever be. No matter, Chardelon. No matter. There is no option but this. Were I to do this in a month’s time, or two, or a dozen, who knows how little I will have left to offer? I suppose The Enemy, and if that’s the case, then I will be completely within their reckoning. No, at this hour, I have the choice. I have the initiative. I must make it. I must. I must. I must!

In the most difficult action she had ever attempted, Renner stood out of her chair, took one step away from her vanity and turned to face her empty room.

And in the ending of all things.

“I, the Third Princess Renner of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, request parley.”

For a moment, nothing. Then, out of the black, came a response.

“Request accepted. We will require a minute of preparation.”

The voice shook her, not merely foul and gravely as would storybooks and codices would describe the fel, but utterly wrong, as if hearing it was itself a horrid crime. There was a haziness to its edges, a static crackle that made clear the timbre was that of something wholly unhuman imitating its method of speaking. Her shudder slowed, and she drew herself a little straighter, eyes dancing across the space to find the voice’s origin, it having seemed to come from all directions at once. For a brief moment, she looked straight ahead, danced away, then snapped back. There, deep in her shadow cast upon the opposite wall by her lantern were two crimson pinpoints of light. She met the beady motes, blinking once to be sure of what she was seeing, before the pair winked out. She was left alone with her breath, shaky pulls in and out as she used all her strength to keep it steady.

This was not a mistake. This was not a mistake. This was the only option. There was nothing else but this. Chardelon- Chardelon, my darling. Stay yourself. Stay yourself and think. How am I to bargain? What am I to offer first? Eyes and ears? A description of all the subtleties lost on their shadowy observers? Surely that's an object of their desire. Further, as a political lever. A way to send this nation’s politics this way and that. I have already done so in their favor, but I can do much greater. I can offer a greatening of them, a deep embedding in the Kingdom’s core. I have my blood. I am a royal! I am in line for the throne, however distant. I may give them a Queen Theiere if they so wish. Surely that would be enough, yes? Surely. It is-

Her shadow again twisted, not the red points of before, but a singular blackening in one spot. It swelled, growing in scale to the size of the fist as a pulping ichor poured out into the air and hung. Then, as if dropped against the ground, it splattered out in all directions, wavering streaks of ur-purple stretching with it until it formed an oval disk that stretched from floor to ceiling. Then, from that most unwholesome thing, came a flash of black and scarlet - a boot and a leg. It was long and thin, donned in a fabric with thin stripes that ran up its length, Renner following them to see the rest of it stepped through. Even without his mask, the devil was perfectly recognizable from the rest of his description, and she fell forward onto her knees, realizing all the many openings, sentences, and conversations she had practiced in her mind over the last hour were useless.

There can be no negotiation here. There’s nothing else I may do.

Renner pitched herself forward, lowering from her kneel into a bow as low as she could muster.

“I surrender. I offer my service without condition or reservation. I, Her Highness Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself, fifth in line to the throne of Re-Estize, the Golden Princess, give myself unto you for you to do as you see fit.”

Renner slowly raised her gaze, meeting nothing but a hungry smile.