Chapter 43

In waiting of the arrival

Border of the Draconic Kingdom

"We arrived late."

Captain Nigun had the rare quality of making even the most banal remark sound grandiose. A grave and lapidary tone that left no room for further consideration.

"Ian, check for survivors. Or unwanted guests."

The order was given before thought could even process what was in front of them.

"Will do."

The second-in-command, Ian, was so eager to lick those shining boots that perhaps the term Windstride could have been used to describe his extraordinary sucking-up skills.

Clementine relaxed, not sensing even the slightest hint of danger. The burning desire to be alone for even a minute was thwarted by the group of hooded enchanters who clung to her like a shadow never leaving her alone.

It was a small village. So small that it might not even have been called that. The atmosphere had a certain fascinating lugubriousness to it, with particular attention captured by the muted peace that stilled the air. Clementine wandered around for just a few minutes, before realizing she was already done with exploring. A few lianas and creepers sprouted from the ground shyly, coloring what was otherwise a well gray landscape with a vibrant green.

Most of all, it was the pollen that was unbearable. Clementine had to hold back a sneeze, more out of pride than necessity. There was a conviction in her that even if she showed the slightest trace of weakness for a second, the devotion and almost mystical worship she exercised towards the other members of the Scripture would vanish.

"Did you find anything, Lady Quintia?"

One of the Sunlight Scripture members approached her. She was a woman with long white hair, carrying a voluminous amber-coloured tome with her. Small brown circles watched visibly and curiously for any trace left behind, looking for any clue that might satisfy their thirst for knowledge.

"No, nothing." Clementine would have liked to add a small smirk, but sometimes keeping silent proved to be the wiser alternative. "If there were any humans here, enough time has passed to remove any sign of their passing."

It was almost as if no battle had taken place there. Nor any form of resistance. Perhaps the villagers of the Draconic Kingdom had learned to live with a certain spirit of resignation, and had not even tried to fight when the horde had arrived.

The real cowardice was trying to oppose the inescapable.

"This is the second village we've come across, and we still haven't managed to get a spider out of the hole. The demi-humans are adept at hiding their tracks, but this time they've managed to hone their techniques even more." The woman began to scribble something on the pages of the book, with particular aptitude.

Clementine couldn't understand what was so interesting there that justified the ardor with which she was transcribing, but while it was true that it hurt the pen more than the sword, it was even more true that in the Scriptures, the work of assassins, not scribes, was valued.

"What caught your attention so much that you tried to break all records of fast writing?" Boredom had an incredible power: it brought out curiosity and attention where otherwise there would have been only indifference.

"Didn't you notice anything strange, Lady Quintia?" The woman -Clementine couldn't remember the name no matter how hard she tried- assumed an opinionated expression, somewhere between facetiousness and curiosity. "There is so much magical energy in this place, it is overwhelming. Yet, there are no traces of spells, right? No side effects or concrete results that we can analyze. How to explain it?"

The question bored Clementine deeply, but she struggled to give an answer, if only to keep up appearances.

"Maybe it's just an impression. The practice of detecting magic particles is not perfect, if I remember correctly." Quaiesse would be able to determine precisely which tier would be perfect to use in cases like this, as well as devise a perfect plan of action for the occasion. If he had been there, they would not have had such problems and, as their mother always said, 'her brother would have brought a new ray of sunshine in the morning'. Unfortunately, the dawn was approaching. "In any case, I don't think he should expect much from me in situations like this Lady... Elysant."

The cover of the book had engraved in large letters that name which, by direct association and with a bit of luck, would have avoided the embarrassment of a wrong denomination.

"Yes, that might be true," Clementine sensed no reaction to the name, so cool either she had gotten it right, or Sunlight Scripture members were also masters at avoiding embarrassing situations. One or the other didn't matter to her. "It's just so... weird. The first time we set out on the trail of beastmen in these areas, we had so many clues that the hunt was almost an uneven game. And now…"

"... And now we grope in the dark like frightened, inexperienced kids." For the Black Scripture, that was the practice. A common occurrence. Indeed, there was, however paradoxical, a certain familiarity in that unknown situation. "Our enemies could attack us at any moment and all we can do is huddle close and hope that the blood that will flow, for it will surely flow in droves, will not be just our own."

Clementine caressed the stiletto she wore under her armor, letting the living steel cause a sensation, almost a groan, of coldness upon contact with the skin of her fingers. The phalanges retraced every finish of the workmanship, finding comfort in that perfection.

Elysant clutched at the black tunic, as if Clementine's gesture had summoned an icy, hellish wind, capable of pushing back the mugginess that had been felt only moments before.

"Well, we're safe this time. More than usual I mean." The woman approached, barely restraining a motion of... admiration? Clementine was not, nor did she want to be, adept at deciphering the pure and genuine emotions humans expressed. So masterful was she at embracing death -the death of others, of course-, so inept at assessing the spurts of life, more from lack of desire, than real ability. "This is the first time I have fought together with one of the legends of the Black Scriptures. Forgive my boldness, but when heroes materialize in the flesh, and legends take on concrete contours, it becomes difficult to hold back the enthusiasm!"

"...No problem at all."

Devotion. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Clementine could almost get used to it. It was not difficult to understand why the gods had started to be worshiped and adored. It was more intoxicating than most of the wines the Black Scripture woman had ever tasted.

Except for the reddest of reds. But that, unfortunately, was not always available. Especially not now. Not yet.

That mission might have provided the perfect opportunity to taste it once more. An uncontrollable tremor almost drove her to try to peer into Elysant's.

Sometimes, stopping oneself was indeed so difficult.

Was she not worthy of praise, for those efforts?

"I bet you have a lot of stories to delight me with," a pen, whose provenance was uncertain, was brought close to her index finger, from which a tiny light emanated, dim and wispy, until the tip was coloured with a dull black ink. "Above all, there are many encounters with frightening and mysterious beings that might be worthy of ending up here. As the deputy in charge of compiling our team's bestiary, each new addition to such essential texts is pride and boast for me."

Elysant began tracing, with unexpectedly painstaking precision, thin but firm lines that quickly coalesced to form an image whose nuance and perfection reminded Clementine of the same sensation of estrangement she felt when her mirror image looked back at her, with that same shifty gaze that adorned her face from behind the glass.

"Is that me?" How strange. The features were undeniably hers, but for Clementine there was a... dissonance as she compared the image of that sketchy but not untrue portrait and the image she had cultivated about herself for so long. "It's so... calm. Serene." There was not a sign of disturbance. That angelic detonation was decidedly uncalled for. If a nun's cassock had been added to that design, it would not have looked out of place in a convent. "I am... honored."

That kindness was unlike her, but Clementine had learned, not without some difficulty and a few too many attempts, to fabricate an image quite different from reality, no matter how disgusting it was.

The key was to ask herself: 'What would Quaiesse have done in this predicament?'

Obviously, she would rather have died than reveal that uncomfortable weakness to her twin. Or kill him. Whichever would have proved easier, if that moment had come.

"Do you like it? One day I'd like to fill these sheets with all the members of the Black Scriptures, detailing their exploits and abilities. Both as a memorial... and as a manual for future generations."

Had they been alone, the temptation to answer with a serene no and savor the disappointment on that almost spotless face would have been unquenchable.

"You were fascinated by my mere presence, why not hear a story from me? Of course, with the promise to keep it hidden from anyone not in the Theocracy."

Without even dignifying her with a reply, in that square where even two of them stood tight, with the sun beginning to recede beyond the hills, Clementine remembered something that had happened a long, long time ago.

"That would be wonderful." Eyes widened with poorly concealed wonder. "A chance to take note of every smallest detail of an account equal to legends." She put her pen aside, strangely not reluctantly.

Clementine could have sworn that for bookworms like her, parting with that instrument would be like parting with a blade for a warrior.

"It was a few years ago," she didn't know why she was beginning to remember either. Perhaps a way to pass the time, perhaps just to see the reaction her ending would elicit. "In a remote village, just like this one. Yes, maybe even smaller. Located on Re-Estize's border with Argland, just downstream from the mountains that separate the two great nations."

At the mere telling, Clementine could almost find herself in those places, where nature and civilisation had not yet blended perfectly, and where the wild forests still held secrets that only the bravest would dare to discover.

In fact, it was not entirely unlike their current situation. Or that of many other countries in that region of the continent. The past could be described in archaic and mysterious terms, but that did not make it necessarily any different from the present.

"The local lord, an affable and generous-looking fellow, had a strange philosophy, which distinguished him from the nobility of Re-Estize. You see, adventurers were not welcome in his fiefdom, and even those who passed through there were not allowed to practice their profession. All this because of a bizarre policy of his, who professed equality between all races, including beasts and other monstrosities." A very strange personality. These were always the types that proved more interesting. "Attacking was only allowed in absolutely exceptional and dangerous cases, and never for prevention."

The reaction was predictable and obvious, but amusing in its outrageousness.

"Unheard of! How did they get rid of monsters, then?" Elysant asked, sitting down on a bench not far away. Her indignation was both a cross and a delight for Clementine.

"You may be surprised to know this, but they used the army. Of course, Re-Estize soldiers are famous… Well, not for their skill. And this lord's troops were no exception. In fact, we were ordered to go there because the disappearances of inhabitants had become far too numerous."

"Could it be that the court of Re-Estize did nothing? Had it not noticed anything?"

At least as far as curiosity was concerned, Elysant was far superior to her. At the time, Clementine had asked no such question, merely directing her sword where she was ordered.

"Perhaps. I'm not really sure. The king and the other nobles probably already had a lot to worry about and that remote region was of no interest to them. Or maybe they had sent some troops who had been charmed by the Lord's words and had returned with nothing to show for it. Hard to say. Incidents happen often in the wildlife, and no one really cares about some peasants in a poor and distant region."

Clementine pulled out a bottle of water from her bag, to quench her thirst before continuing. Talking so much was not usual for her, but she was feeling generous today.

"In any case, when we arrived no one was posing as itinerant merchants, seeking profit in uncharted territories." Just thinking about reliving that humiliation caused her to shudder. Far better to be a murderer than a trader. "The investigation resulted in nothing. Nothing at all. For days and days we combed the surrounding forests and the houses of the inhabitants, sometimes with slick excuses, sometimes with ...less elegant methods. I was amused to see the faces of my companions struggling to understand what was going on"

It was evident that some of the situations recounted did not have the same effect as experiencing them first-hand, otherwise Elysant would have shared her laughter.

"And so you have returned home? With no results?"

"Our intention was that. We had prepared everything to leave the next day. But on the very last night, we were attacked. You'll never guess by whom... or perhaps it would be better to say by what."

The woman took a moment to think about it, only to pick up her tome again, waiting for the conclusion.

"Vampires." Clementine explained, allowing a certain amount of enjoyment to shine through. "Many of the fief's soldiers were low-ranking bloodsuckers, who waited for precisely the moment they said was perfect to attack what in their eyes were clueless merchants. They were filling their ranks little by little, before invading the capital. Do I need to explain how that turned out?"

"You won't need to," replied Elysant, intrigued rather than entertained. "A vampire coven right in a human kingdom? How was that even possible? Unless…"

"You guessed it! It was indeed the Lord who was the progenitor. That was why adventurers were frowned upon in those parts. Sick, don't you think?" And extremely funny. In a way, Clementine had valued that abomination for the initiative. "Once in a while, they would catch a few outsiders to quench their thirst. But more often than not, it was the citizens who offered themselves as tribute. They had been so used to being sacrificial offerings that they considered it the norm. And many just found out the chance of becoming immortal appealing. In remote corners such as this, the population was mostly made up of released prisoners and nobodies looking for their fortune, with more than one reason to resent the nobility who had, they claimed, reduced them to that state of extreme misery."

"Disgusting. So much for integration! It was all a farce. How did it end?"

Clementine approached, flashing her friendliest smile.

"How do you think it ended?"

"...I see. I thank you, Lady Quintia. It is a story worth passing on. Especially to the fools who speak of coexistence with other races." And she began writing again with even more fervor only she knew what. "Is there anything you would have liked to do differently, if you could go back?"

"Indeed there is something," Clementine licked her now dry lips after so much talking. "I would have liked to kill the leader of that brood with my own hands." Instead, it had fallen to the Captain to get rid of it. An absolute injustice. "Do you think that by dint of drinking so much blood, vampires' blood is different from ours?"

"I've never faced one of those beings, so I couldn't say."

"It was absolutely the same as that of the humblest of peasants. After all, those who proclaim our equality so much are not entirely wrong."

At the end of it all, they were all equal. The color changed in some, but the life-giving sap was the same for every creation of the gods.

"Oh, you are here."

A friendly voice, all too friendly. A man with silver hair pulled back approached at a leisurely pace, followed by other members of Scripture. When he came within a few paces of Clementine, his body bowed almost automatically, as swiftly as a well-trained page.

"Lady Quintia, is all the exploring going well?" His voice was calm and controlled. But there was a certain... inflection that betrayed a not entirely subdued agitation.

Normally, Clementine would have assumed that it was her presence that caused that reaction, not without a certain pride in that, but in that particular one she had to admit that there was something particularly mysterious beyond her control.

"All's well, vice-captain," she replied boredly, yawning vigorously to emphasize the point. "I was just telling deputy Elysant some nonsense. Nothing…" there was no need for that pause, no need whatsoever. Still, the control it gave was priceless. "Of importance. Isn't that right, Elysant dear?"

Elysant, astonished and perhaps even surprised, rose with ease, letting the rays of the sunset kiss her clear, pale skin, the pallid complexion a mystery considering the weather to which it was subjected. "No, not at all. It was very interesting! I think even Captain Nigun would be delighted to hear that story! With your permission, Lady Quintia, I would like to share with him what you told me. I look forward to hearing his opinion. Ian, of course, that goes for you too!"

Was it... admiration? Could a young woman feel anything like that towards such a fanatic?

Clementine hoped she had misunderstood the sentiment that leaked out with such force, a not entirely unfounded assumption, before realizing that, all things considered, she could hardly have cared less.

"Sure, go ahead." Windstride closed the matter without particular interest, focusing what little concentration remained on the vice-captain, who was still left in that inferior position.

Was he waiting for a command before he stood up?

Clementine could not help but consider which course of action was most suitable.

On the one hand, having him remain as a lapdog at her feet was strangely... satisfying. A man wagging his tail just for her was more fun than she had expected. Of course, not as much fun as that. But you couldn't have everything in life.

Blessed are those who can be content with little was not a proverb that had ever been in her vocabulary.

Adjusting was fundamental to one's existence.

On the other hand, she was curious as to how many fractions of a second it would take her to get up upon hearing an order from him. Would her expectations, downwards, be refuted by reality?

'It is indeed true that the most difficult choices require the strongest wills.'

"Stand up, vice-Captain Ian." She opted for the latter, more so as not to waste any more time and finish him off quickly. 'Two quarters of a second, impressive.' "To what do I owe this little embassy of yours?"

"We found something very interesting," Ian looked up, turned it towards her and then lowered it again, in awe. Why he couldn't keep it was a secret that made Clementine particularly gleeful. Knowing that the very special touch she possessed had not lost its polish there in the wild was really reassuring. "If it's not inconvenient for you," he resumed, with an uncanny ability to omit any emphasis from her words, "we'd like you to follow us. Captain Nigun is very interested in hearing the opinion... of an expert like you."

"What is this about?"

"It's not difficult to explain, but if you saw with your own eyes you would certainly understand much more easily."

Clementine did not reply, although she already had an answer to give.

Keeping them on their toes was absolutely vital to her staying, or they would start meddling over the smallest trifle.

Much to her mother's chagrin, Clementine had not the slightest intention of mothering a bunch of drooling brats. It was to be expected of a woman at the height of maturity to churn out a brood of disgusting little creatures, as if the womb was an oven that never knew rest. Maybe it would have been better telling her mother what she thought about that 'sacred duty' once she was back in the Theocracy. The old carcass's face would have been absolutely delicious. For the first time in a long time, the ninth seat of the Black Scripture found herself praying that nothing would happen to her old parent while on the move.

"Lead me, then." After enough time had passed Clementine, who would have preferred a few more seconds, but even she had to admit that at that point things were starting to get annoying, was able to put an end to that uncomfortable quiet. "Ah, let Elysant come with me. I am glad to have her company."

The woman, on hearing herself called upon, brightened up.

"I... really… I wouldn't want to be in the way."

"No bother," she smiled sweetly at her. "There won't be any trouble, will there, vice-captain Ian?"

"Nobody." Quick. Perhaps resembling more a soldier ant than a dog. Zoology was a complicated subject. "In truth, I had also been called to summon deputy Ilay. Her knowledge in demihumans and heteromorphs matters might come in handy."

"Splendid! Then there will be no problem. We can go."

Elysant stepped to her side. Clementine was beginning to take a liking to her, an event more unique than rare.

Just a little more and she would have been the perfect meat-shield.

On the battlefield, potential sacrifices were never too many. If for men ideals of chivalry and a not too hidden bias, given by the little things they hid between their legs, made swelling the ranks something all too easy, with women one had to be more subtle and give them something a little more elaborate.

Friendship. Trust. All that kind of crap. Sisterhood and lies. In contexts where male numerical superiority was as obvious as these, establishing a bond was as easy as sticking a blade down the throat of a helpless infant.

The knights of the Draconic Kingdom and Theocracy were already preparing the camp for the evening. The former with unexpected diligence, the latter with ordinary care.

It was admirable, at least to many who were not her, how efficiently and quickly such a well-equipped structure could be assembled and provide simple but effective protection in such a short time.

One had to wonder why they were wasting time if there were enough dwellings to accommodate, if not all, most of the expedition. Even on the off chance that the owners would return to their homes again, they certainly would not have had anything to complain about if their saviors had taken advantage of their hospitality.

There were not even traces left of the inhabitants' remains, by the gods! Wasn't being so picky counterproductive at such a delicate stage of their mission?

'And then they say I'm the nutcase! I didn't even find a trace of blood when I inspected the dwellings. Nothing at all.'

Clementine had to restrain herself in order not to let her disappointment show. The lack of action of the last few days was almost unbearable.

"Is something bothering you?" Elysant, sweet, dear girl. So intelligent... but also so stupid. Had she perhaps made a mistake?

The woman sighed, feigning weariness. "It's nothing." Brooding too much was not typical of Clementine's modus operandi. "I was just thinking about what we might be up against. I've seen a lot, in my field operative days, and by now finding myself amazed is extremely unusual. It wouldn't hurt to change this trend."

"I can't even imagine what was the most out of the ordinary thing I've witnessed."

'A little boy with baby teeth still using adult dragons as cheap toys, and a living fossil that could destroy nations with a flick of her fingers unable to solve a toy for children.'

"...Nothing. Nothing interesting." A drop of sweat, remorse of a past memory and yet still vivid in her mind, furrowed Clementine's brow, heralding many more. "If I told you, you wouldn't even believe me. Or would you?"

The secret, after all, was now out in the open. It was the first time a member of the Black Scriptures could have avoided keeping their mouth shut on that subject. The first time in who knows how many centuries. Probably, the Sunlight Scripture were aware of it.

Yet, Clementine said nothing.

"Are we there?" The only words she managed to utter were those, her attention already having erased Elysant altogether and her questions becoming more annoying one after the other, with an intensity proportional to her curiosity.

"We're almost there." Ian replied, without even looking at her.

They had moved a few meters away from the village, entering the antechamber of one of the many forests that painted the maps of the Draconic Kingdom as almost regular patches.

While the cawing of birds -and who knows how many other creatures- strove to interrupt the silence that formed the background to an eerie scene, while worms and tiny insects fell prey to legendary battles that replicated, albeit in a small form, the struggles for survival of all other races in glory and victims, while the leaves moved, not cradled by the wind, but by ghostly, melancholic and tremendously inhuman howls, Clementine reached an epiphany.

The endless scarlet streets were paved with the blood of brave men.

Captain Nigun, with that cocky grin of his, with that overflowing faith, with that devotion to the cause that would have made the most fanatical zealot vomit, greeted her with lies that tasted of truth and truths that tasted of lies.

His body would have been even more beautiful, even more resplendent, had it been coloured that red that Clementine so loved. His rosary, unfailing, inseparable, would have looked even more sacred once the ligaments were broken.

What a man, that Nigun Grid Luin. The perfect example of the Slaine Theocracy beliefs. Years and years of indoctrination, of honed conditioning techniques had reached their zenith in the production of puppets that filled an immeasurable void with unreal falsehoods, placing stillness where there should have been torment.

If he had not been a Luin, he might as well have been a Quintia. Trained to perfection in the sacred ways, a perfect example of the superman who transcended the limits imposed by a nature so cruel.

Just like Quaiesse. But he was no Quintia. He was a Luin. Not like Clementine. She was a Quintia. Clementine Hazeia Quintia. Even the middle name was shared with her twin. It was a good omen, they said. It showed their bond, they said.

Clementine would draw a line, thin and perfect, on that neck so white that even the coloring could have been mistaken as a symbol of purity. She would have seen the blood gushing, in flocks, because that was how she liked it, then she would have drawn a second line, from the height of his chin to the end of his chest. A cross, a portrayal of faith. A masterpiece carved into the skin. Windstride would have made his body a temple, a relic.

Stolen story; please report.

Then she would move on to the other Sunlight Scriptures, starting with vice-Captain Ian. How would that man have taken her possible betrayal?

He would have cursed her, insulted her, and killed her! If only he could have. He would only have died when his men had already been exterminated. Only when he had seen the lifeless, lifeless bodies of those he had sworn to protect. It was his blessing, and her mercy. It came at the end, when it no longer had any meaning to be granted.

Ironic! Just like life.

Elysant, when would it be her turn? She knew her so little, but it felt like she had known her all her life. So predictable. Golden child of the Theocracy, just as Clementine had once been. Before the mask gave way, before the only meaning of life was revealed in her eyes.

She would have felt hurt, she would have felt betrayed. That hair so white would have been dirtied, no, it was more correct to say it would have taken on a sincere, natural hue. There was a reason why it was better never to meet one's heroes! The risk that they might exceed her expectations was tempting. But more common was the possibility that they might disappoint. In this, Clementine was truly ordinary. Almost banal.

Then she would move on to the soldiers of the Draconic Kingdom, who had never given up hope, although they had every reason to do so.

Why are you doing this? They would ask her. Shouting so loud that they could be heard in the silence. An answer would have been fabricated. She was a traitor. A whore. She had sold herself to the demi-humans. Scandalous! Profane! In just imagining their faces contorting, their eyes widening, their mouths screaming profanities and curses, Clementine felt a sense of satisfaction that was hard to describe. That frisson had returned, pleasant and soothing, and at the same time frenzied and suffocating.

Clementine would have killed them all.

All of them.

"Lady Quintia, what do you think?"

The body was laid out among the leaves, tossed like the filthiest rubbish. Its two forms blended into a distorted symmetry, an equine face patched over what was once a peasant like so many others. His right hand a malformed hoof, his hair a horse's mane.

The stomach was open, and dozens of worms of various lengths had thrown themselves into it to feast.

Giant teeth like eyes had been inserted into a mouth too small to contain them, shaping a delightfully grotesque smile.

A cockamamie representation of two halves that could never become one.

It must have been a painful death, because it would not have been madness to still be able to hear the echoes of suffering produced by the creation of that masterpiece. Clementine could imagine the satisfaction the artist who had brought it all to life had felt in making that nightmare real. And she felt envy. Envy that she had not been the first pioneer of that new avant-garde art.

"What is this horror?"

"Gods save us."

Nigun and his men continued to pray. If the gods could hear their invocations, it was not for her to say.

"I have never seen anything like this." Perhaps only when she had set her eyes on the operating table of Khajiit and his followers, a few days earlier.

The corpse's gaze, concealed by a reddish liquid, was pleading. Clementine, heedless of the dirt and boils that celebrated that horror, touched it, recognising that familiar sensation in an instant.

"I told you, Elysant." But the woman was hardly paying her attention, on the verge of making a lake of puke. "Blood, whatever creature it comes from, always remains the same."

To know the mechanics of life, it was first necessary to learn those of death.

Union Cities State Alliance

Imperial Proclamation of the Glorious Plains Nation.

To the representatives and citizens of the City-State Union of Karnasus, greetings!

It should be understood that this missive is not intended to rebuke or threaten. Indeed, should our message be misunderstood, we can reassure you that it was not our intention. As many of you may know, or as many of you may be aware, the great arms of the Empire have extended their embrace towards the Union territories. There have been misunderstandings, of course, understandable when strong and independent personalities clash. Nonetheless, we have always felt that any friction could be resolved and that collaboration, this sacred word too often forgotten, would ultimately prevail over any smallest and most insignificant quarrel!

As Shah, as leader of a kingdom where multi-ethnicity and difference are key words, we realize that mistakes have been made on both sides. Just as the wiser father acknowledges that blame must be shared with the son, we do not pretend that on our part there could not have been behavior that led to errors and, as hard as it is to admit, to pain that could have been easily avoided, if only a little more diplomacy and a modicum of caution had been used.

For this, we acknowledge our faults.

What was our intent, to restore our great nation to its former glory and luster, was a design that was perhaps too optimistic and naive in its simplicity. The eagerness to realize this great project, the benefits of which would be in abundance for all, clouded our judgment, and may have led to some haste in our plans, easily avoidable. Our hearts weep, and our souls squeal as we count how much has been lost by this folly!

With this in mind, peace talks have been put in place. Both to remedy what was a disturbance in the Harmony of Heaven, and to make the sacrifice that these heroes- that these martyrs- made not in vain. In the future we envisioned, every race and every citizen shook hands in the construction of what was a future whose splendor blinded even our regal eyes, such was its beauty.

Precisely for this reason, we sent our fraternal friend, Satrap Tiribazus, trusted advisor and excellent administrator, as the first brick of that bridge we intended to build, in the hope that it would be the first step, the most painful but also the necessary one, to embark together on a path that would lead to the betterment of both.

Optimism, unfortunately, has the makings of a two-faced demon.

To our great regret, we were deceived by what was in front of us, without taking into account what lurked in the shadows! Convinced that our sentiments were shared by all those who had peace as their primary interest, we sinned in arrogance.

Do not, however, confuse our benevolence with foolishness! The disappearance of the satrap Tiribazus, again, we reiterate, a brotherly friend and indispensable resource, and of General Arsames, a valiant hero of the Empire, cause an unbridgeable hole in our heart. A hole so big that filling it becomes more difficult every day and could lead, if a remedy is not soon provided, to decisions that could have catastrophic consequences on both sides.

Once again, this is not an accusation! We do not mean to point the finger at the Union, nor do we mean to imply that this tragic event was caused by a foolish -for to refuse our generous offer would only have been foolish- act of impertinence. If it was indeed an affront to us, forgiveness is the only thing we intend to grant to those who were guilty of such a grave crime.

It is therefore with such a state of mind that we ask, with as much kindness and respect as possible, for the fulfillment of this insignificant request. That the perpetrators of this misdeed be handed over to us, so that they may be given a fair and just trial under the watchful eye of our jurisdiction.

We guarantee that no repercussions affecting the relations we have so painstakingly built in recent times between our respective embassies will follow our decision, no matter how harsh it should be. Once the matter is put to rest we can resume negotiations as if nothing had happened. On this, our word is given and established as the most sacred of oaths.

Should our demands, which, we repeat again, are considered by us to be entirely reasonable, not be met, we would reluctantly be forced to turn our hearts to stone and our word to iron and fire.

Do not let selfishness and self-interest put the brakes on what could be the greatest opportunity in the region for centuries! The Evil Deities have brought chaos and destruction to our lands, making us divided, weak!

Do not be seduced by evil and envy! Do not let your baser instincts get the better of you! Let goodness and reason guide your actions! Be wise! Be better!

Signed Darius the First, first in his line, Shah of the Great Plains and Emperor under Heaven.

"What do you think?"

Antilene read a second time, to make sure she had not missed any crucial details. Once it was ascertained that nothing had been missed, the half-elf flattened the paper and threw it into a nearby basket without even taking aim. It was a hit on the first shot.

"It was an amusing read, though I don't think I fully understood the joke." She sipped at the glass of milk in front of her, not realizing that a small mustache had formed on her still sleepy face.

"You have something under your nose," said Agravaine, intent on drinking tea right nearby.

"Is this also a joke?" Antilene asked, crinkling her eyes in exhaustion.

"No. It's milk."

After cleaning herself, Antilene turned to Kista, who sat opposite her. Only a glass of water approached her lips. Barely accentuated dark circles towered over a still calm and composed face.

"Are you going to take me to trial?" An interesting prospect. She had never been in a courtroom before. "Should I shout 'Objection!' right at the salient moment? Maybe pointing my finger dramatically and blathering something about the unfairness of the evidence and the dishonesty of the witnesses."

A small laugh escaped the half-elf's mouth.

"I have discussed this with Queen Kirke, and we both agree that it is baseless nonsense," and yet, it was not entirely impossible to detect traces of concern in the mayoress' voice. A certain heaviness hovered on that morning when the dawn had lasted longer than usual and the sun's rays penetrated through the window with more intensity than normal. "However, if our informants are reliable, not all cities in the Union see it the same way. In Beppo Allo, General Chazos has proclaimed that he will bring the heads of the traitors on a silver platter to the Equestrian King."

"I have always felt that gold was more suited to my neck. I like the contrast of the brightness with the paleness of my skin."

But that brutes could think of such subtleties was too much to ask, Antilene was aware.

"Then why are your clothes always dark shades?"

"... Touché. I should renew my wardrobe." The Theocracy had always preferred cooler coloration, even in fashion. It was therefore difficult to get carried away and try something new. Killing a habit was sometimes harder than wiping out an entire army. At least for her. "We've been so busy that we haven't even had time to look at some interesting shops. And I should also buy something for you, Agravaine, and for Etienne and Melody."

The butler's uniforms and the maid's dresses were beginning to show a few too many threads leaking out and far too many mending. Considering the resources they had in her father's kingdom, it wasn't unreasonable to imagine that the work clothes they had were even older than the human who now sat with them.

"Too kind, my Queen."

"Kista, what do you think are the most luxurious boutiques in the Union? Don't get hung up on the price, what do you do with money if you can't spend it? Ah, if there's something you want, don't mind telling me. I will have to repay your hospitality somehow."

"...Do you think this situation is funny?"

Now the concern was evident.

"Of course not. Otherwise I'd be laughing."

If there was no reason to worry, why do it? If there was no reason to panic, why act like you were suffocating?

"Orcneas is having a debate." Kista was not of that opinion. From a certain point of view, that was her job. The people at the top also had to grieve for those whose leaders they were, to alleviate their problems a little. "Do you remember magistrate Kostocles? The apeman you met at the council?"

An emeritus imbecile.

"A great personality."

"An individual who certainly leaves no room for interpretation." Agravaine added. The elf had finished her tea and had begun to help Melody prepare breakfast. Etienne was busy tidying up the large room that had been provided for them during their overnight stays in Ris. Why he continued to do this, Antilene was not sure. By then it was so clean that they might as well have eaten on the floor, no more need for tables.

"In any case," Kista continued, "he is convincing his colleague and the city council that Ris and Bebard are a danger to their future. He hasn't received full approval yet, but it shouldn't be long before Orcneas also comes out against us."

"Sounds like a good choice to me. In his place I would have done the same."

A stranger arrives and provokes the great power that until a few weeks before had crushed them as a giant disposes of a dwarf. It didn't matter where they looked from, that was by far the only rational and sensible decision to make.

Kista was not of the same opinion.

"Orcneas controls the largest trading port in the region. The moment he decides to take sides against us, we will lose much of the already scarce supplies we will need to win the war."

"It is true that I eat a lot, but I do not feel that the entire imports of a large port are necessary to satiate me."

Finally the hint of a laugh, it had been incredibly hard to wring out. As a comedian Antilene wasn't as excellent as she thought.

"I agree. A quarter is more than enough. Maybe."

Agravaine handed a plate from which she waved a still steaming omelet to both her and their guest. The elf, on the other hand, contented herself with a few beaten eggs.

"I merely appreciate what is in good taste. It wasn't a crime last time I checked." Which, admittedly, was a real long time ago. People who lived short lives tended to modify trivial things like this with the same ease of which they breathed, maybe for an absurd feeling of control.

On the dish, the half-elf noticed a small smile etched with sauce. Melody's handiwork, no doubt.

"It's good," it had just come out of the pan, and so the taste still had that typical heat, but Antilene almost paid no attention to it. "Even if it's missing something."

"I think it's delicious," Kista certainly didn't let embarrassment get the better of her, but she bit into the omelet with an astonishing spontaneity. "Your maid is an excellent cook."

"Don't get me wrong, it's superfine. But my old nurse could give it a different kind of texture. How can I put it? It was like eating a cloud and a plate of pasta cooked to perfection at the same time."

"I know what's missing."

"I beg you, don't tell me it's love."

"I was going to say salt," and Agravaine handed her a small container. "Of course, your guess is still spot on. Nono, don't look at me like that. Cheesy, melancholy. No matter what you call it. The taste of childhood is hard to replicate, no matter what utensils and ingredients are used."

"There is not much in my childhood that is worthy of being savored again."

Bitter had never been to the taste of the half-elf. And time, strangely enough, managed to make it even more unpleasant.

"This makes those few moments we remember with sweetness even more etched in our memory. They become our yardstick and the recipe for our prejudices. Not because of any inherent quality, but simply because we are inclined to compare what happens to us now with what made us happy in the past." Agravaine's eggs were beginning to get cold, but she didn't seem to care much. "The secret, I think, is to look not for replacements, but for new food."

"I mean, having a favorite dish is good, but there's nothing to stop us from tasting something else," Kista had already finished, and was wiping herself decently with a finely folded napkin. "At best, we might be surprised."

Antilene looked at how much was left on the plate. Its smile was now reduced to a barely sketched line, but it had not lost the good humor.

"I would propose a toast for this touching moment, but using milk instead of wine would make any master of ceremonies put his hands in his hair." Another sip. No traces left this time. "And, as exhilarating as I find it, it would require finding one first. As we are bereft of one at the moment, I will simply express how much I appreciate this little women's reunion of ours."

Was this how it felt to be surrounded by people you appreciated and who appreciated you back? The half-elf was very much reminded of the times spent with Rufus, albeit with less silence and more food eaten. No matter how hard he tried to keep her company, the patron deity of the Theocracy had never been able to be much of an eating companion, for obvious natural impediments.

'Grumpy old man. I must pay him a visit as soon as possible, to see how he's doing. Already I can hear him complaining about aching bones and my lack of discipline. And waste time in endless tirades about the Gods and heroes of the past… I miss him.'

Having friends and family was... strange. Not that Antilene hadn't had any in the past. It wasn't that their memory wasn't still present in her, but now there was something missing that, at the same time, gave a welcome feeling of lightness.

Bizarre. No better word to describe it.

"Back to important matters. Orcneas intends to surrender and get in our way, a mad general wants to scalp me, and the most important city in the land is in enemy hands. Do you know what I call this?"

"Not the best of Sundays?"

"A big headache?"

"Nice. You were almost there…" Pause for dramatic effect.

A little more.

It was important to raise expectations.

Was this taking too long?

What if the conclusion was disappointing?

"A prelude to a great event."

"What do you mean?" Kista's curious expression was welcome.

"The message from the Equestrian King gave me a lot to think about. So pompous, so false. You have been at war for how long now? Years? He knows Karnasus will be our next destination. It's mathematical. Until it is liberated, the Union will have an enemy stronghold in the heart of its territory, making any possible offensive doomed from the start. So he's inviting us to dinner, the table already set, he's certainly called his best cooks and requested the most succulent meals."

"And we will then decline this lavish gala?" Agravaine indulged in an apple, which made the formerly rich breakfast now decidedly abundant. "We will not be so foolish as to fall into the lion's jaws, will we?"

"On the contrary, my dear sister. It is impolite to decline such a well-planned invitation. We shall show this lion to be careful what you put in your mouth," the last bite of the omelet was taken at that very moment, "or you run the risk of losing all your teeth." Concluded the half-elf, still chewing.

"I am not entirely convinced. Perhaps it would be better to accept?" Fortunately, Kista had no problem admitting her grievances. More than one Black Scripture member could have learned from her. "However... if the naval blockade really comes... we'll find our hands tied."

"Exactly," Antilene was happy to see that they understood each other perfectly. "A blitzkrieg. You won't have time to say 'duck soup'. Touch and go, before the enemy has time to get organized and squeeze us in a vise. Who knows. The Equestrian King himself might be there."

"And that could end the war in one fell swoop," a tantalizing prospect. Kista, nevertheless, grew gloomy, letting the muscles of her forehead incipitate. "But... are you sure you can beat him? The stories that go around about the Equestrian King... it seems that before he gathered all the great tribes he single-handedly destroyed entire armies and tamed the greatest warriors in those areas. His bow was forged in the scorching sun and his aim never misses a shot. Against us, he never went into battle, but only because he never needed it."

Antilene shrugged her shoulders, avoiding bandaging the head before wounding herself. "If I don't face him, I'll never know. Having as much information about him as possible would certainly help. But judging on the level of his Immortals, I'd say there's nothing to worry about."

"Besides, sister, you also exterminated an entire army. Will the ones this Equestrian King has eliminated be comparable to yours?"

Antilene felt the tip of her nose blush. "Better to leave men to measure the size of their armies." She rose from the table, stretching her sleepy muscles from immobility. "We will have to ask our prisoner to tell us more. Do you know where he is right now, Kista?"

The formalities had taken less than expected to be abandoned.

The mayoress sighed, defeated, but also somewhat satisfied. Her shrewd eyes opened with delicate clearness, quite the opposite of those of the half-elf that still demanded further rest. "We should ask the Queen. Just as we are her guests at the moment, Lord Tiribazus should also be in her care. What remains of him, at least."

"There will be enough left, I had recommended not to scramble him too much when we handed him over." Let it not be said that the Elf Queen did not have the good taste to treat her guests with consideration. "Let's head to our hostess, so we can also be updated on the preparations for the assault."

"I'll stay here and give Melody and Etienne a hand. I will see you when you return."

It was understandable why Agravaine preferred to stay in the room. Antilene did not need to inquire further, letting the thumbs-up gesture be answered enough.

After preparing herself, the half-elf and the mayoress were able to make their way to the throne room. Normally, it would have been good etiquette to announce themselves and wait for the Queen to receive them, but while on their way, they had encountered Mirina heading in the same direction from which they had departed.

"Have you read the Emperor's message?" The Dark Knight was leading them with celerity towards their destination, not making a single sound in the heavy armor she was clad in. The temptation to see her wearing something different was strong, but Antilene avoided venturing a comment that might be seen as impolite. "The Queen has not stopped laughing since this morning. I swear on the family crest, I've never seen her in such good spirits."

"Do you have any idea what such hilarity came from?" Seeing Kista and their escort hand in hand the half-elf had the uncomfortable feeling of being in the way. On a romantic evening, she would have been perfect as a candle. "I mean, when I read it I admit that getting a good laugh was not the first of my thoughts."

"I think Queen Kirke is up for a challenge. The more difficult something proves to be to achieve, the more she is inclined to wrest it by force. That's why she gathered so many talents and had no problem continuing the war." Arriving at the great gateway that guarded the throne room, Mirina paused for a moment, letting Kista and Antilene mirror themselves in her large black eyes. "I don't know if I share this way of seeing things. As a knight, I was taught that using the sword should be the last choice, when every other option is precluded."

"War as an extreme ratio. One of the cardinal principles of the Mother Law." Kista caressed her beloved's hands, to give her strength. "But, unfortunately, we have come to this point because we are left with no choice but to surrender. The nation's fathers would not have wanted this, I am sure."

"...I wonder about that."

"Lady Mirina, when the time must come, will you be ready to let the sword ring out?" Antilene was not keen on being tough, yet she did it anyway. "You or them. There is no compromise."

Behind the apparent weakness lurked the fiercest ardor. "I am ready." She stroked Kista's cheek. The woman did not have to mind the cold touch of the iron-reinforced glove. "Let us enter."

The doors swung open, heralding their arrival with a metallic sound.

The same scaly servant that had served Antilene in her previous visit stood at her mistress' side. From him the salty smell of the sea came, and the fury of the waves could be heard in his voice.

"My Queen, the Queen of the Elves and Bebard's spokeswoman begs for an audience," there was in his words an ancient and lost echo, that of times lost long ago. In his youth, which was not marked by the stirrings of naivety and recklessness, there was the will of the devoted servant and the authoritative master. "Are you ready to receive them?"

The Queen of Ris was there, waiting for… something. Not them, no, for her intentions were inscrutable. "Come, my children. Come, my sisters. You took less time than expected." Dressed in an inconspicuous tunic, with just a few ruby-coloured strands that gave it that minimum of royal dignity, the hag spoke with firmness. "I am glad to see you here with us." So much of her body seemed decrepit and on the verge of leaving this world, so much of her spirit imposed itself as an ethereal, unmovable force.

"Lady Fouche, or do you prefer Lady Antilene? And Kista, my dear. Please take your seats." And she pointed them to small thrones, used by the nobility and great officials at times of assembly. Now, perennially empty.

Even Ris counted its losses.

"Lady Antilene will suffice." The half-elf had by now grown accustomed to that benevolent union of lips. If something had been hidden beyond it, it would have been discovered in due course. "Personally, standing will do just fine. I see you are not alone."

Erya moved just a few centimeters, enough not to make the distance too impertinent from both Queens.

"You look well, Lady Antilene," his hand always placed on the sword of law, as if waiting for just the right pretext to be able to unsheathe it. Soon his expectations would not be disappointed. "Magnificent as ever. Beautiful and... ambitious. When might I have the pleasure of fencing with you? Conquering strong adversaries is the utmost aspiration for those that follow our path."

"One thing at a time, my dear Erya," the old hag laid a hand on his shoulder. The young swordsman did not retreat, but it was clear from the flicker in his pupils that he wished he was anywhere else but there, in any other position than his present one. "We have more to talk about now, don't we? I think I have guessed the reason that brings you here. I assume you were also delighted with the missive received this morning."

The Queen must have noticed, for she slid her skeletal fingers down to the bottom of his shoulder blade, with plenitude and... desire? It was indeed more than simple friendship and affection that conditioned that motion. There was a certain intimacy seeping from the touch, whether reciprocated, it was all too easy to determine. Only then did Antilene notice that her countryman's skin had begun to lose that perfect connotation and become... more blurred, more gray. To a less attentive eye it would have been natural for those details to escape.

'Now it all makes sense. An exchange of swords, in every sense.'

To her gaze, however, the nature of that relationship began to unfold like the most trivial of truths.

"Kista has been very diligent." Young flesh and old flesh joined in a dance that bore the hallmarks of the mellifluous aberration. The problem with fantasy was that all it took was a little teasing, and it led to places that were better left to themselves. "My breakfast was enlivened by a good dose of goat's milk and a reading that had heroic and farcical flavors. Truly special. I only regret that there was no jester who could recite it before my eyes."

"Remind me, I'll see to it as soon as possible. You humans are so skilled as clowns that it won't be difficult to find one somewhere" Now that they were so close, by Erya's good grace, Antilene cast her shadow over the dull face... but still full of a devilish lifeblood. "Moving on to more important matters, by now that leaflet will have been delivered to every embassy in the Union. It is important to act as soon as possible, before our few allies change their minds again."

With the image produced by her imagination still attached, the half-elf held back an expression of disgust, searching... again and again, until she found it acceptable... to appear as imperturbable as possible. "Ironic. I had shared that exact idea with Kista."

"It's amazing how often you two seem to be on the same wavelength."

Pretending not to have heard her, Antilene resumed with her discourse. "Have the preparations been implemented these days?"

"Sir Niles and his men are already in place. We have divided the few soldiers we have into small squads that will infiltrate the city. But first we need someone that will pavement the road for them."

Attempting to take a fortified city alone and with so few troops would have been a daring feat. Ambition was the enemy of success, Rufus always repeated. Therefore, Antilene had been happy to take on a secondary role, however crucial.

"Do we already know how many enemies there are in the city?"

"Roughly eight thousand. Not counting the civilians who remained under the protection of the Equestrian King."

"Can we trust these numbers?" Kista had started jotting everything down on a piece of paper, letting the obvious disadvantage not faze her. "If they are true, there is a disadvantage of eight to one. Against enemies who have proven more than once that they are superior to us. In the best fortified city in the Union. With another enemy army that could arrive at any moment. Not to mention General Chazos on the warpath. If we don't take the city in a few days, we run the risk of finding ourselves surrounded on every front."

The important thing was to maintain optimism.

In this, the Queen of Ris and Antilene could have taught anyone a lesson.

But even they paled before the confidence displayed by Erya.

"Let them come." He was not surrounded by his elves, as was his wont. What had happened to them, Antilene preferred not to inquire further, in vain hope that their destiny was not yet sealed. Her plan was, after all, coming to fruition effortlessly. The pieces of the puzzle did not even need to be moved to get into that perfect position. "Quantity yields and trembles before quality. As long as I can deal with them in confined spaces without being overwhelmed, I have - we have!- nothing to fear."

The firmament could have counted a new star, evidently. For the swordsman of the Theocracy believed he was blinding.

The half-elf raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "As they say, there is no nectar of ambrosia that compares to the etching that the deeds of the great imprinted in the stream of history. The only thing to dread is having one's legend reinterpreted in a manner not befitting reality."

"Ahaha," an echo of a deep sound resounded from the old woman's throat. "The eye looks, the mind processes, the voice conveys. In this chain, each ring differs from the other, albeit imperceptibly, until it is impossible to recognise the beginning link from the end one."

"What counts is the future, not the past. When everything is abandoned, what remains is nothing more than what one deserves." The hilt of Erya's blade gleamed with its own light, this time with genuine brilliance, claiming what was rightfully its. "See? Even Delfina agrees with me! Prophecies are self-fulfilling when those who forge their own destiny break the chains of fate!"

The will of iron had spoken, and it had chosen. Who, it was not possible to decide.

The scaly servant lowered himself to join his mistress, whispering something confused. "It was her... glory is near... the knot is untied…"

"The bell has whistled, then."

"Call the satrap," Ignoring them, Antilene let herself be lulled by that peace, for that little that it would have lingered. "It is time for Tiribazus to speak."

"As you wish."

The servant stepped away, the scales beginning to lose their stickiness, before he disappeared into the shadows the half-elf had the sensation that his face had changed, the surface state to split into infinite fragments. The song of the sea had given way to a tidal surge impossible to tame.

"While we wait, there is something I think is crucial to establish," Kista said, "How will we infiltrate the city? What will be our objectives?"

Antilene nodded, as curious as her friend. "I could climb over the walls and break into the citadel, but even for me it would be difficult not to attract attention and, at that point, goodbye surprise effect."

"Attacking from above as well is impractical," Mirina followed up, Crocdabal glowering in its own darkness, as if not wanting to be outdone by Delfina. Was it blood or steel that dictated that rivalry? "Too few of our soldiers can fly, and the centaurs boast scouts and archers capable of spotting and hitting a swallow even in the deepest darkness."

The Queen of Ris smiled, not finding it difficult to dispel their doubts. "From the beginning, we had determined that it was impossible to hit Karnasus directly. A siege would take too long. An infiltration by ordinary methods would have been discovered. But there is a secret, of which even they are not aware. No one is, except me and the one who whispered it in my ear."

"Make us partakers, then." Antilene became authoritative. She did not like being so. But she was.

"I trust everyone among those present. I trust everyone, but I don't know if everyone can trust me. May I have this confirmation?"

To whom was that question addressed if not the half-elf?

"You may have it."

No need for others to join that brief exchange.

"There is a path from the valley west of the city to the imperial palace, home of the lord of Karnasus. Its memory has been lost, for too many dangers and monsters lurk within it. Lost, yes. But not entirely. It is from there you will enter."

"To know this…" Kista did not conclude. "I see." The Queen's gaze was sufficient.

"How dangerous is it?"

"Deadly. For those who do not know the precise road, too many beasts await prey for the hunt. And even for them, safety is not assured. But for those blessed by the blood of the gods…" The wrinkled hands gripped the wooden staff. "Fortunately for us, a gift arrived just in time."

That gift had a precise name, Antilene thought. Hers. The Gods were not playing dice. The Gods had already woven that destiny from which it was impossible to escape. The Gods had already foreseen everything.

Oh, how wise the Gods were!

"Consider it already done." Put yourself to the test, that was the solution.

Why do all this?

If everything had been predetermined, every action was inherently worthless.

If one was the architect of one's own fate, why not run from the path that others had planned?

Antilene looked at Kista, slowly approaching Mirina, the little space between them taking the form of a chasm whose bottom could not be glimpsed.

Antilene glanced at Erya, the shadows of his -their- sins still covered the blurred soul.

Antilene stared at the Queen of Ris, whose past was still a rope dragging her down, just as it had once done to her.

A tangible desire to help was in turn rendered vain by an ancestral quest, older than herself... Of the dragon masters of the heavens... of those who had written the laws of creation.

The sound of the strings of Rufus' violin materialized like an ethereal dream, the terse, fast notes colliding and repelling in waves whose harmony described the mysteries of nature.

When the satrap crossed the threshold, the music ceased. The suddenly interrupted concert was not, however, without its fundamental significance.

The bariaur was in better condition than could have been expected. The hair was beginning to grow back, with small wads thicker than others decorating the sun-touched skin with little touches of white.

He wore no handcuffs or other signs of imprisonment. The expression was calm and serene, the same as was usually seen on the dying face of someone who had accepted their end.

"I understand my presence has been requested," his breath was unwavering, "on seeing such nobility I would usually bow in homage. Your lordships will forgive me if my present condition does not permit it."

"The gesture is accepted," the half-elf reassured him, noting the many scars not yet cauterized on his legs. "There are many questions we wish to ask."

"It will be my pleasure to provide answers, as far as I am able."

"Under whose rule is the city of Karnasus at present?"

Tiribazus looked at her as if she could not have asked for something more obvious. "Karnasus is owned by the Emperor under the heavens. If that is the trend, I have a feeling my presence will not be needed for long." In his stare, the haughty gleam he once had had been replaced by a miserable pity. Pity for him, of course. "I'd hate to return to my quarters so expeditiously, I haven't managed to get used to it yet, I'm afraid. The furniture is sloppy, and very little light filters through the only window."

"We mean who are those who preside over the city's defenses."

"Does it really make a difference?" The satrap scratched his chin, on which the stubble had recently begun to grow again. "Even if you could catch Karnasus again, it would all be in vain. On my way here, I had the pleasure of giving a quick reading to that exquisite proclamation of intent by my old ruler."

The scaly servant -he who had led him there- sneered, continuing to remain safely in the shadows projected by the large door still ajar. Only part of his face was still clearly visible and -for just a moment- Antilene had the feeling that his skin was not a pale blue, but a fleshy pink.

"If the emperor waits within the walls, it is over for you." The head of the bariaur dared to rise slightly, almost as if he wanted to look at the sun that had been foreclosed to him. The same sunshine that forcefully entered through the stained glass windows of the throne room. Unannounced, but not unwanted. "And even if not, it won't take him long to regain control of that city. My only regret is that I will not live long enough to enjoy the spectacle... Probably."

Antilene approached Tiribazus, just close enough for him to get a good, clear look at her. "You've seen me at work, haven't you?"

His confidence, so painstakingly gained, began to give way with ease.

"Yes... but don't think that you alone can…"

"Who would win?"

It was a question that had been asked before, in a distant time. In another life. Antilene was seized by that unpleasant feeling of once again repeating events that had already unfolded. Her path was a circle in which, no matter which direction she chose, the point of arrival inexorably coincided with that of the beginning.

"... He would win." Hesitation. Just like then. "You are strong…" She could have recited those words from memory. "Very strong. But the Equestrian King -as you call him- is beyond logic. If only half of what is told about him is true... no one can compete with him."

Erya snickered, certain there was no challenge.

Antilene ignored him, her attention completely focused on the bariaur.

"It is decided." Was the coveted challenge so close at hand that time? In defeat the true being of the half-elf would unfold. "Do not worry, satrap. You will not be harmed, for from today you will be in my custody until you see the day your liege will drop at my feet pleading."

No one voiced any objections. Not even Tiribazus.

"I am curious about this centaur. Will his legends be passed on? Or will my stories take over? He who shall fall, will be condemned to stare into the abyss for eternity. I hope your king is ready, satrap. I have already peered into the darkest depths, and these have drawn back before my eyes!"