Karnasus, Cities State Alliance

No time for a proper funeral. It was funny to consider that not even a Queen could receive worthy honors at her own demise. An unexpected equality that had something ironic in it.

Antilene inspected the corpses of Rhea Kirke and Thekla in a hurry without proper support, unable to find anything useful. The blade that had slashed their necks had not been found, but it had to be considered that much of the inspection was crude and inadequate. A single half elf could not do the work of a specialized team. A murderer worthy of the name, worthy of Ijanaya, would have had no trouble getting away.

That is, if they had not remained in the palace, as the half-elf suspected.

There had been no opportunity to put an end to that. The Queen of Ris was dead, and with her the mysteries she carried within her.

'Resurrection magic?' Rea Kirke was the only enchantress who had reached the fifth tier, at least according to public opinion. If there was anyone capable of performing that prodigy, they had not come forward. The door of the Theocracy was always open, but to go through it for such nonsense was nothing but a waste.

"Today leaves a guide for us all, a vital piece of the Union. For a better place, I dare to hope. With her I feel I have lost a teacher, a friend." Kista had delivered a restrained, very narrow eulogy. The style was reminiscent of Slaine's Ode to the Dead, but was tainted by passages that did not reflect the doctrine of Theocracy. Lack of epic pathos, language that exalted the deceased. There was, however, that distinct respect for the afterlife and the plea for mercy for the beyond.

Other than that, just the rush to finish. A few tears from the guests. A prayer to some unknown deity. Nothing more.

The funeral chamber prepared for the occasion only allowed a few minutes of and an equally quick farewell.

Antilene ignored most of it, trying to put the bits of that day together. Something wasn't quite right, but the jigsaw puzzle provided to her wasn't missing a piece. Perhaps she was simply looking at the wrong picture. Searching for a river when a lake should have been the object of her interest.

Of everything, it was the doubts that had not materialized into answers that left her annoyed. Had Queen Kirke been friend or foe? Had she deceived or tested her?

Being undefeated did not translate into being experienced in the complex and tangled mess that were the emotions of the living.

Antilene saw that corpse- a corpse that was smiling- and she saw only a body. A dead body. In that dead body, she saw nothingness. A nothingness that was looking back at her.

Kista, who had known her better, saw more facets. One, two, three-the number didn't matter.

"What will become of Ris now?"

"The Queen left no heir. I suppose a new ruler will be chosen from among the high nobility. For the time being, an assembly made up of the most important lineages will rule."

"Are you upset?"

"...Losing a friend is always a source of melancholy. Losing it at such an important time is not only a misfortune, but almost a cheap shot."

"Gods can be capricious."

"Yes," the mayoress had looked away from the half-elf, as if ashamed, as if she had something to hide. Yet Kista had not manufactured her grief, nor lied in her testimony. "And the young halfling? How is she taking it?"

"Locked up in her chambers. Saying she does not yet feel ready to receive me. Confabulating a lot with her father, as far as I've overheard. I just caught a fleeting glimpse of her when she came to say her final goodbyes to the attendant."

Philo Oreste had arrived the same evening as the murderers, as was originally planned. His coming was the latest misfortune in a series that showed no sign of abating.

Franklin's guild representative had engaged in a close discussion with the Prince - behind closed doors, of course - and then began a series of talks with the Union representatives still present. He could be seen going back and forth, accompanied by other guild representatives not only from Franklin but also from other cities. A handful of adventurers and workers never left his side.

"It is unfortunate that the wedding has been postponed."

Getting cold feet was expected. Elaina was not weak in spirit, but the loss of someone loved could disconcert even the strongest. The entire wing of the palace granted to the future lady of Karnasus was filled with the affiliates not only of Franklin's affiliates, but of every other important personality who had some clout in the Union. Dionegis and Kilmestra now rarely left guarding her room, even eating their meals and resting hours in the corridor of the royal palace.

Antilene could not feel much sympathy for her.

Not that Prince Alexander lacked reasons of state to deal with.

"Orcneas has fallen. The divination spells cast leave little doubt. War has returned to Union soil once more."

"And Magistrate Kostas has still not been found. I was acquainted with his colleague, Magistrate Mussel, and I find it hard to believe that he surrendered without a fight," anger was a feeling that, under the right circumstances, was to be cultivated and encouraged. The one in Kista was a seed that had withered before it even bloomed, blossoming into a lush plant. "Hell of a monkey, must be holed up in some hole like the rat he is! Those damn centaurs. They only gave us a peek at their invasion to put us on alert, but then they obscured all their moves."

Evidently the Union's methods of divination did not hold a candle to those of the Plains Empire. Once again, Antilene realized how Astrologer was one of the pivotal members of the Black Scriptures.

"Without the Queen of Ris, your alliance lost most of their magical abilities. It is indeed a pity."

Kista had merely nodded. "That will have to be a lesson to us." Then, almost recovered from a long stay, she had regained some of an energy that did not make sadness its trademark quality. "This crime will not go unpunished. Nor will the Equestrian King. You gave us hope to resist, Lady Fouche. We will not throw it away."

"Then the Union will do well to prepare."

And to be frank, ineptitude had not taken its toll. The time frame for action had shortened more than expected, but Karnasus and their allies were not so foolish as not to have foreseen that possibility. The shock of the unexpected had been fierce, but it had not left them uncovered and lacking the ability to react. After a few days, most of the armies had been assembled and were ready to coordinate to strike the Equestrian King on the road to Beppo Allo.

Antilene had seen Alexander and his staff working tirelessly to achieve a goal that, if not unattainable, gave the impression of being far, far away.

Bad news, however, had the obnoxious custom of never arriving alone.

"East and West Gaith have fallen. A second army from the Great Plains is now marching towards us."

An ambassador bore no sorrow, so it was said. Yet those words tore into the faces and hearts of those present, so lightly breaking down a morale that had taken too much to raise.

"Say it again."

Since meeting him, the half-elf had never once seen Prince Alexander flinch. His was not a face molded in anger, or concern. Serenity was almost a natural expression of it, the blessed fate of the winner imposed at birth.

On that occasion , control failed. "Say it again!" The messenger -a young man with all his milk teeth still intact- was gripped in a death embrace. Not because there was a genuine desire to do harm behind it. On the contrary. Alexander was bleached, and to protect himself, he inflicted pain on the first useful target, projecting onto others what he wished to be done to him.

If that was a nightmare for him, he had found an unusual method of waking up.

By the time Sir Niles managed to detach them, the boy had gone round the world standing still in his place, and almost brought the result of that journey to the floor.

"Damn!" The Prince calmed down. "Damn! Damn!" Not immediately, no. "How is that possible!? We had contacted Gaith only a few days ago. Their army was ready to march with us."

"Evidently it won't anymore."

The minotaur had puffed tiredly, giving the impression that his armor of silver plates was even more imposing than it had appeared until just now, the muscles contracted in powerful spasms, as if to challenge the magical ligaments to keep them in place. "We can sit here and complain about our misfortune for as long as we like. Or we can draw up a counterattack plan."

That incitement rang hollow. A great warrior did not necessarily make a great leader. Sir Niles snorted a second time, raising his arm to the sky, almost touching the ceiling. Then he approached the Prince, who was slowly transforming into an undead, achieving something that would take many blasphemous sorcerers years and years of study to achieve, usually in vain.

The color of Alexander's skin had turned greenish and nausea had even stained his cheeks. The dazzling twinkle in his look had dulled, without disappearing altogether.

"Pull yourself together, boy. Or we're all doomed here! We've had a lot of grief lately. I don't want to add another grave to this damn city!"

An ineffectual encouragement. The Prince's eyes continued to gaze at an unknown horizon, the shapes of which only to him were shown. He whispered something. ''It should have been me who died then. It should have been me." That the loss of Rea Kirke had tested him more than could he admit? Then, slowly walking away from Sir Niles, Alexander returned to the table in the center of the room, where various miniatures illustrated the current situation. Others were added to indicate the new developments.

The uncertain gait, which could have been mistaken for that of an inveterate bottle-lover, accentuated the miserable condition. He dropped a pair of carved toy soldiers that were supposed to represent the troops of Karnasus. They made no great noise, but in the stillness of the room that encounter with the earth resounded like the most foreboding of rumbles.

Antilene watched from a distance, paying attention to not getting too engrossed. No one, Gods be thanked, paid much attention to her.

General Chazos was not hiding his disgust; the fingers trembling on the hilt of the sword. Did he want to set the young prince straight with steel? Mirina and Kista were confabulating among themselves, sharing worried glances and then bitter smiles, in a strange dance between love and gloom. The representatives of Franklin's guilds were wondering if they had not bet on the winning horse and it was not difficult to imagine that betrayal was seducing their minds with no particular difficulty; the mayor of Veneria was trying to mend the rift, with very poor results.

Generals and politicians present were about to give up, while Alexander merely took note that everything he had painstakingly built was crumbling.

Dinocrates, his scribe and secretary, had to take a stool to reach his master's height. Even compared to the dwarves participating in that council of war, he was a tiny, insignificant little man, utterly worthless, devoid of significance. Alexander was the only one who appreciated and esteemed him and who, at times, was aware of his existence.

Yet his composure was enviable and in the midst of that group everything appeared under his control. For Antilene -and not only her- that was strange. Forgetting that he existed was easy, and the half-elf could not help but wonder if that was not a quality to be despised but, on the contrary, to be appreciated.

The two exchanged a few words that no one could hear. The emotions in the Prince's expression went from pure surprise to shame, from fear to disbelief, then there was something else. A desire for redemption, aroused by so little. A suggestion for greatness that required only the minimum.

''Okay,'' Alexander adjusted his hair, which had begun to fall untidily over his forehead, and slapped himself a couple of times to give himself energy. But also to bring the attention back to him. "Let's solve this." Dinocrates, standing behind, gave him more than a mighty pat on the back. "First of all, I apologize for my unbecoming attitude in such a delicate situation. The stress accumulated over the last few days has taken its toll all at once, and I have found myself overwhelmed by all this disaster surrounding us."

That speed of recovery was exceptional. Unnatural, there was no other way to describe it.

More than once Antilene had compared Alexander to the sea in her mind. A calm sea whose waves roamed placidly, which sometimes knew the gale. Now, there was something different about him. He showed more the firmness of a mountain, the immutability of the landscape.

The relationship of trust with his allies had cracked, and restoring it would not be easy. It was the gift of some commanders to make madness palatable to even the most rational of men. It was a peculiar phenomenon, which distanced itself from the coldest logic, and which found its reason in the charisma alone, in the birthright of a commander, of a ruler.

It was a rare ability, even in the Theocracy, which manifested itself in a superhuman aptitude and predisposition to command. But when exercised, it could make even the most fearful and skeptical men into beasts whose loyalty was unquestionable.

What to ask, and what Antilene herself wondered, was: did the Prince of Karnasus possess that quality? Or had it been granted to someone else, perhaps not so far away?

'Show me what you can do,' the half-elf's attention settled on the scribe, who nodded contentedly in the shadow of his lord.

"Sir Niles, thank you for spurring me on. I am lucky to have a comrade like you by my side, ready to get me back up when I fall."

The minotaur exchanged a look full of respect with the lord of Karnasus. "We have been through a lot together. If the old Queen singled you out as the leader of this coalition, I'm sure there was more than enough reason. I want to have as much faith in you as she did."

Sir Niles had calmed his breathing and, in a gesture of friendship, accepted the apology. Kista had mentioned his displays of strength in the arena more than once, and certainly the impression he had made then as champion had lingered until now in the imagination of the other dignitaries. These must have been remembering the laurels of victory placed on the bovine head, the opponents he had pivoted on the ground with his triumph, the acclamations of a crowd of which they had been a part.

Prostrating himself on his knees before the Prince, the imposing minotaur emphasized the latter authority, submitting to his judgment and forgiveness. Their friendship, it did not matter if real, would be the cement of that alliance once again.

Alexander immediately got him up again, not even giving him a chance to get his legs dirty.

"The death of our beloved Queen Kirke has been a blow to everyone here," if the Prince had noticed the doubtful glances, he did not give it away. His eloquence had returned incisive, devoid of smears. "We are all gathered here for one reason," the fallen toys were put back in their places, with particular care. Piece by piece that model had returned to its original state, indeed it had been enriched with new additions, which painted the current tragic picture more accurately. "To win. But what is victory, I ask you. Repel back the hordes from the Great Plains? Or take the Equestrian King's head as a trophy? To establish a fleeting peace before our descendants find themselves having to relive our history, our endeavors, albeit with uncertain outcomes? It is all these things, and more. I won't lie: our chances at the moment are decidedly against us. In a couple of months all the cities that make up the Union could find themselves destroyed or reduced to miserable servitude."

A voice rose. It belonged to one of the members of Franklin's merchant guild. A smooth-bearded dwarf, who wore a suit very similar to those that could be seen in the cities to the south of the Theocracy. "Why should we follow you, then? Why not surrender, when there is still time to do so?" That question, that same question, had been asked countless times since Antilene came to the Union and would most likely continue to be asked in the future.

Why fight? Why not surrender? Why wield weapons when throwing them could have prevented the pain, the suffering?

There was always a why in everything. A why that justified, a why that uplifted, a why that sent forward.

Adjusting the sleeves of that expensive fabric the representative gave a tug on the nose that could only be described as deadly. "This we want to know, my Prince. To fight, to send our loved ones to certain death, to put our freedom and survival at stake, we ask for a reason. Is it not reason that separates men from beasts, after all? Will the price we must pay not be too high?"

"It will not!" Alexander unleashed a devilish grin. Some might have ventured that he was only waiting for that moment. Antilene would have agreed with that hypothetical stranger with few reservations. The Prince snapped his fingers in a theatrical gesture, no doubt prepared beforehand. "Because we have a secret weapon."

"And where would this powerful weapon be found?" This time it was the mayor of Valencia who raised doubts. The obese tabaxi sweated like -if not more- a nun in a pleasure house, something that most nuns usually did.

Satrap Tiribazus in chains had not been convincing enough, but the half-elf was grateful for her poor ability to impose herself in memory.

Antilene felt the gazes of Kista and Sir Niles pointing at her. The half-elf grabbed one of the pieces of cheese that lay on the food table at the right side of the room, pretending nothing had happened. The cheese would have been said to be made from goat's milk, but in that place being sure of something was not truly mathematical. Blissful ignorance, therefore.

What could it have been, after all?

"That, at the moment, I cannot reveal. But I can assure you that it is very close to us. How do you think Karnasus was freed in such a short time? I will be frank with you. No matter how high the skills of the winners of our tournaments, or the Dark Knight, or myself, are." Dramatic pause for effect. If there was a dormant genius in Prince Alexander, it was awakened overwhelmingly on those occasions. Nor was it difficult to guess who had instructed him. "A fortified city presided over by two Immortals and a fierce army from the Great Plains would have been an impossible feat for anyone without a trump card."

He was convincing them. He was regaining if not their devotion, their attention.

"We thought it was you who defeated the Equestrian King, like you did at the start of the war. Are we to consider your victories a lie?"

Alexander retorted promptly. The confidence of one who knew he had the upper hand was on his side, guiding his speech. "On the contrary. The mere fact that we are here today is proof enough of what I claim. Dead men tell no tales, and I am here, am I not? Or someone would like to disagree?"

A faint murmur echoed. No one, to Antilene's chagrin, tried to question Prince Alexander regarding his presence at that council. For the rest, not everyone had been convinced, but the path the lord of Karnasus had taken could not yet be described as wrong.

General Chazos approached Prince Alexander, towering over him by a full stature. The stench of his breath also reached Antilene, who was standing a good distance away. She dared not imagine what the other interlocutor was feeling. Bugbears like him made even their hobgoblin cousins look like helpless kittens. Of all the races belonging to the goblin family, the bugbears stood out in strength and intelligence, but coarseness continued to be an integral part of his character.

"Beppo Allo risks annihilation! As does Karnasus, my lord…" Chazos proclaimed, bringing a certain vigor to the discussion. The general's military manners were reflected in his disingenuous, lashing out. The protocol with which he addressed a peer was followed to the letter, but particular additions -such as the no-frills cadence, the poise as erect as the hardest steel, the 'lord' cast with exaggerated emphasis- invited that disrespect to be tamed. "If we all must die, I prefer to do so wielding a sword, and not bowing my head like a coward. Prince, are you ready to do the same?"

A life of nobility, spent in command, was a constant test.

Chazos, like many others, was looking for someone who would be worth serving if he had to push himself to the end. The other dignitaries pricked up their ears, intrigued. If they did not agree with the general's brusque ways, they could at least approve of the need for a leader who would prove himself capable.

Alexander did not hesitate. Hesitation was defeated. "Yes," he replied, impassive, standing proudly bearing the coat of arms of the sixteen-pointed sun, the emblem of Karnasus. That single utterance was enough.

The giant bugbear dribbled his teeth in a sneer, unleashing jaws that could have challenged oricalchum in hardness. Surprise struck Antilene to see that the whiteness of those fangs was immaculate. "Then let us die together, boy. Carrying as many half-horses as possible together."

"I have no intention of dying. Like I said, we have a secret weapon."

The general's laughter echoed back sharp as glass. One could feel the happiness in it from the way he didn't stop. "Then I hope it really is as reliable as you claim!" Although he did not shift the direction of his glance, Antilene was certain that he was eyeing her. "Can this trump card of yours possibly be doubled? Be mass-produced? Because the Equestrian King is about to use our asses to redecorate, if you haven't noticed. And having a plan should be the bare minimum when you are going to renovate. An old carcass like mine is not suitable for the luxurious walls of an imperial palace, but a young human, strong and handsome like you, might prove a perfect trophy to display above the fireplace." Chazos did not lose his good humor, as if the prospect intrigued him. In all probability, he just wanted to test the reaction of the prince of Karnasus.

"They're on their way here," Alexander moved all the pawns into one spot,regardless of the future foreshadowed by the bugbear. "Orcneas was a distraction. They aim to take this city back. Should it fall again, the spirits of those who still want to fight will follow soon after."

"Are you proposing that we don't move?"

"I am proposing that we proceed as planned. We will annihilate Orcneas' invaders, liberating the city by the sea. Then we will turn around and wipe out the almost certain siege at Karnasus."

The holes in that plan were wider than the holes in the cheese Antilene was munching on.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Sir Niles made no delay in his objections. "If you were wrong, my Prince, we would find ourselves surrounded. It would be a disaster." The fog of worry hovered so much among those present that a knife could have sliced through it.

Alexander shook his head. "I will not be wrong. After conquering East and West Gaith, the only viable roads are those heading for Orcleans or Karnasus," he began moving the pawns around the table, illustrating his assumptions. "Grand Wythes is of little strategic importance, and Greater Listaran lies too far away. It would require a tight march through rugged territory, with the risk of being hit from behind. Orcleans gives an outlet to New Orcleans and Beppo Allo. East Gaith towards Karnasus. The first time they hit us they merely conquered Karnasus as a symbolic gesture. Now they will not show as much mercy. Once these cities are subdued, the Union will easily capitulate."

Judging by the funerary shadow he cast over each of the representatives, the Prince's arguments had a solid foundation. Truthfulness, however, was not synonymous with reassurance.

Kista exchanged a few words with Mirina, then took the floor. "Let's say you're right. We will intercept the first army towards Orcleans, while the second will head here. What about the Equestrian King? He's most likely to be in one of the two armies."

"That's the gamble. I'm willing to bet that the Equestrian King will head here, to claim the throne of Karnasus. The idea of making once again the heart of the Union his property is too tempting," without anyone noticing, except for the half-elf, Alexander slightly shifted his gaze towards her for a few seconds. Did he intend to find confirmation in what he said? "And then, once he shows up, he can fall into our trap."

"What if you're wrong?"

"...I will accept the consequences." Consequences which, in that case, had only one assured result.

"Bah! Nothing is certain in war," General Chazos snorted. "I approve. Beppo Allo is definitely in the crosshairs of those overgrown horses. I'm willing to bet on it. If they want to graze our grass they'll have to be prepared to bend over first."

"There are many risks, there is no use denying it. The promptness with which we strike will be crucial, just as it will be essential that each of our armies move with the composure of a single man and the flexibility of a trained team."

"That's easier said than done, kid. But we can try."

"We have to."

Not everyone was of that opinion at the start, but Alexander managed after much discussion to get them, at least apparently, on his side. In short, the council disbanded and everyone withdrew to direct their own tasks. Sir Niles also headed off to his team of champions, to instruct and prepare them properly.

In a hypothetical confrontation with the Equestrian King, they would be deployed in the front line, and the minotaur was aware of this. Whether he was excited or frightened, Antilene could not easily establish.

In the end, only she, the Prince, his scribe, Kista and Mirina remained.

The half-elf poured herself a glass of grape juice, particularly sweet, with just the right bitter aftertaste, and sipped it slowly, savoring it along with the silence that preceded the advice she would be asked to give.

There was not long to wait.

"We know we ask a lot of you, Lady Fouche."

Protecting an entire city from a horde was no big deal. It was, in fact, comparable to her old post in the Theocracy. A nostalgic person could almost get caught up in homesickness.

"Yes, but it is not a problem for me. Don't lower your head like that. It does not benefit a prince. Rather, tell me, are you really convinced of what you have stated?"

Alexander relaxed. The muscles of his face, which had been contracted to the utmost severity up to that moment, could enjoy the coveted rest. "In part. But I also want you to take a look at my bride-to-be. With Ijanya's assassins still around, I don't feel safe leaving her alone, with a meager guard."

"You have done your calculations well." That concern did not give the impression of being prefabricated. Antilene couldn't help but add a half-notch to her opinion of Alexander. "Let's say I find myself doing nothing except enjoying the view from the walls of Karnasus. What would happen in that case?"

The man's fingers touched, wobbling. "We would be forced to ask you to head for Orcneas as soon as possible."

The half-elf shrugged. "Even the fastest mages would take too long using flight magic. I would be too late."

"This is precisely why we were planning to turn to your homeland." At that point, it was clear why all those who remained shared one thing in common: the race to which they belonged. A pact that had to remain hidden was now on the table, just as concealed had remained the frictions that the multiculturalism of the Union could bring. Desperation could lead toward the more rational -or irrational, depending who was asked- path. "We are aware that the Draconic Kingdom relies on the cooperation of the Theocracy. Not that we are asking for auxiliary troops. It would be impossible with current finances to afford them."

Antilene avoided emphasizing the fundamental difference between the Draconic Kingdom and the Union. It was not a matter of money, as one might have believed.

A man and a minotaur, an elf and a troll, a dwarf and an orc could cooperate in daylight when peace was synonymous with everyday life. It was when danger knocked that it was determined whether that was just a pleasant illusion built with perfunctory care, or a fortress with a solid grounding.

The half-elf pricked up her ears, struggling to remain inscrutable. "Oh," she feigned astonishment. "What do you intend to ask in this case?"

"Teleportation magic."

Alexander was moving down a dangerous road. In a way, however, it was also a test of confidence.

In one fell swoop, not only would the Prince get a better idea of the power of a rival nation, but he would also be able to determine whether clandestine operations were being carried out on Union territory by the Theocracy.

Antilene, in truth, was not certain that any of the Black Scripture members capable of accessing the fifth tier would be able to fulfill that request, since a familiarity with the place of arrival was still required.

On the other hand, there was always the possibility that the Union had an enchanter capable of casting teleportation magic, and that was just a deception to get all her cards played.

The best deceptions were sometimes built on top of other deceptions, with a dash of the unexpected thrown in for good measure. A castle whose foundation was based on falsehoods.

"The most skilled liars are those who also lie to themselves, it is customary to say," Rufus had once warned her. "An inquisitor must pay attention not only to magic and enchantments, but also to the darkness of our personal depths. Such intricate mechanisms are built that truth itself becomes superfluous. At the risk that the knot they form becomes too complex to untie."

"Then it will be enough to cut it with a sword to unravel it," she had replied. Wasn't the simplest solution the most suitable way to solve a problem?

The undead master had laughed. "Violence is not always the right solution. Sometimes, iron is not all there is." It was that time when Antilene had been unable to make up her mind whether her preceptor's crypticity was a whim caused by his immortal nature, a quirk brought on by a boredom fueled by decades of lack of leisure or sheer bastardry that transcended any such vague and ethereal concept.

Experience had led her to oscillate on each of those different alternatives, with varying degrees of reasonableness.

'But right now, I would give everything for iron to be enough.' In the end, what Antilene feared was causing a snub to the Theocracy with her unconcern.

And while the lord of Karnasus waited, the half-elf could not help but be silent. Classic quietness that revealed more than a thousand words, but whose meaning acquired different nuances depending on the listener.

"The Theocracy is unable to give you the help you require. Not at this time." She feigned boredom. Would that have been enough to convince them of the stupidity of that request? Alexander's frown induced a positive outcome, but the scribe and Kista maintained wax masks like expressions. Had they possessed the strength to sustain her gaze, the half-elf could have asserted their reaction more easily. "Or, at least, I am not the right person to engage in such negotiations. I could try to request a meeting, but it would require time that you cannot afford."

There was no disappointment or dismay. Had it gone as planned, and had she, like a foolish girl, been beguiled?

To right the wrong, extreme measures could have been taken. In that case, the Union would have fallen and the kingdoms of men would have found themselves a much less neutral neighbor.

Politics was not the art of Antilene. The title of queen had never sounded so disingenuous to her heart. 'Even having the conviction that I had executed every move with the utmost care, it took very little-too little-to bring out a mistake, a carelessness.'

"I understand. In that case, what can we do?"

That rush of panic had a chance to fade. The Prince registered her reaction, but did not give it much thought. Drops of sweat pivoted on his forehead, despite the coolness brought by the dying season.

'Often, things are different than they appear,' another of Rufus' lessons. Not all of his teachings shone with originality. When he repeated those maxima, then, the pale white of his bones almost gave the impression to be imbued with sadness. Sadness that an undead could not know, only feign. Intensities forbidden to those who had abandoned flesh and blood. 'Perhaps what he claimed was not so wrong,' Antilene thought, remembering those days, which were lost in a blink of an eye, in a heartbeat. 'The best liars are those who lie to themselves.'

It remained to be seen whether Antilene could match her master in the art of trickery.

The response, so far, had not settled on negative or positive, swinging between the two poles.

The solution came from Kista. The mayor of Bebard had almost smiled -happiness was untoward in such a current situation- in venturing her proposal. "Queen Kirke left many magical objects in her room. I had them cataloged as soon… the grieving of the departing had subsided. A couple of them are capable of casting teleportation magic, just once. It will be enough to leave one of them in Lady Fouche's hands."

Not an everyday rarity. Ris's story was cloaked in new eerie mysteries.

Alexander frowned. A tiny flash of greed invigorated the light in his pupils. Even the little scribe at his side stirred imperceptibly, but not from excitement. Hard to pin down, but the half-elf almost had the impression that such news did not so much surprise the little man as hearten him. "We are talking about appropriating the treasures of one of our most illustrious cities. Ris will not be happy..."

"Queen Kirke has given me permission to use her treasures in the event of her departure. Until the end of the war we will keep Ris in the dark, then we will see..."

The outbreak of civil war would not have been entirely out of the question after such an unconscionable affront. Did it really make sense to drive out the Equestrian King and then find themselves fighting each other? Hesperation led to hasty choices fraught with risk, yet Kista was serene in soul, certain that the future would not reveal any surprises.

"Lady Cabelia, someone will have to stay here to activate the device in case of need. Lady Fouche has never been to Orcleans, has she?" A few wrinkles of concern were running down Mirina's face, complexioned by exhaustion. The Dark Knight's sleep in recent days had evidently been nonregenerative. "I propose that you stay. Knowing you are safe would be a source of peace of mind for me - for everyone. The Union needs capable leadership should this expedition end in disaster."

Kista was on the verge of opening her mouth to counter. A feeling that Antilene had only known in stories ran through the woman's entire being when she looked at the knight; a feeling that now led her to curse herself. She adjusted the robe on her shoulders, putting back the purple it was as if she was putting back in its proper place what she swirled inside her as well, and in a calm and only seemingly indifferent voice she accepted the proposal.

"I am not a warrior, nor a commander. You are right, dear knight, my place is here. If it will not create a nuisance for Lady Fouche, I will be glad to remain at her side."

Antilene, now aware of the role of candles in a romantic moonlit evening, hastened to reply, "No trouble, Kista. Your company is delightful to me, you know."

Mirina knelt down; the deep black of her armor blissed in the light of the room, sparkling with devotion. Gratitude overflowed in a violet river from her stare, brimming with gratitude. "I will be able to give my best, knowing you are safe, my lady. Already I have lost the one who was a mother to me... I could not bear to lose again those who occupy space in my heart."

Kista merely nodded, deluding herself that this was enough. A person of her rank could not indulge in more dramatic effusions, for those were of the common man. The sense of duty, the drudgery of command, and all those other beautiful and prosaic phrases repeated to justify one's misery had never been so dazzling, so enchanting. They had to be, for since the alternative was not contemplated.

Alexander helped the Dark Knight get back on her feet. A thread of newfound hope guided the Prince's voice. "Then it is settled. My ladies, let me take my leave so as to finalize the final preparations. We must move as soon as possible."

A solemn bow, a quick hand-kiss to show their respects, and the lord of Karnasus had already disappeared through the darkness of the palace, followed by Mirina and Dionocrates.

Left alone, Antilene and Kista headed for their own rooms too.

"Let me accompany you, lady ... Antilene. I am aware that you are not yet familiar enough with the corridors of the palace." Nothing escaped Kista's watchful eye, and a sincere thoughtfulness accompanied every gesture of Bebard's mayoress.

An unpleasant sensation seeped into the half-elf's mind. The malevolent doubt that something did not fit perfectly into a blurred reconstruction, a stifled echo that warned that something was out of place. Try as she might, Antilene could not figure out what it was.

"Mirina was very attached to the late Rea Kirke, wasn't she?" She could not explain why on earth she had asked that very question. A simple way to fill the conversation, or something about sudden death that still didn't sit well with her. Having in Ijaniya prime suspect was not supposed to lead to the exclusion of every possible alternative, was it?

Kista blinked quickly, not expecting that topic of talk. The mayoress quickly recovered her composure, smiling meekly. "Yes. Mirina is originally from Ris, and has been under the tutelage of the Queen for years. Rea boasted of her as a daughter, and Mirina herself regarded Queen Kirke as equal to a second mother. She even competed in the Mutual Wallop, one of the most famous competitions in our sports games, under the banner of Ris, resulting in a landslide victory. It was then that everyone -not just her family- recognized her as the rightful successor to the Dark Knight." A faint blush colored the woman's cheeks, who strove to cover it with the palm of her hand.

"Have I awakened pleasant memories?" Antilene asked, unexpectedly intrigued.

"We can say so," a graceful laugh lasting a few seconds enlivened those dull passages with life. The few attendants running from one end of the building to the other paused to enjoy such ephemeral calm. The world around had discarded the worries, if only briefly. "I don't know whether to call it tradition, but it was not unusual for the winners of the games to offer victory to their beloved. That time, Mirina offered it to me."

"Were you already ... intimate?"

"Oh, not at all. We had met a few times during my diplomatic visits to Ris, that is. It just was a superficial acquaintance."

"A bold move, in that case."

In some parts of the world it might have been called in less flattering ways, but Antilene went along with the more libertine customs of the Union.

"I felt myself dying of shame. I didn't mind, though. I guess it helped me put my life in order. Shortly afterwards Mirina confessed to me that she, too, felt herself sinking in blush at making that statement before a cheering crowd, and only the dark-as-night helmet she wore prevented her from being saddled with the nickname 'Peppery Knight'."

A good memory had the loving ability to make even the dullest day pleasant. On hearing that story Antilene even felt a tinge of envy, for a life of tournaments and chivalry, courtly love and sappy poetry.

"Are you planning to get married when all this is over?"

"Marriage is not so simple. My family has ruled Bebard for generations. Being the last of a dynasty is not always looked upon favorably." The half-elf could empathize with those words. What one wanted for oneself and what was right for those one was sworn to serve did not always coincide, indeed. It was almost categorical that they conflicted, for some derisory purpose. "Mirina and I made a promise to each other of eternity. But even eternity must be aware of the compromises that arise in such a long flow. But these are thoughts for the future. We are too young to think about marriage or other nonsense now, aren't we?"

"Yes," agreed Antilene. "Young girls like us should think about more suitable topics. Is there or is there not a war to be won and an inhuman horde to be driven away?"

"The latter I will gladly leave to you." The two laughed together.

By the time their destination had been reached, Antilene asked one last question. "Those magical items, how many did the Queen possess?"

Kista looked away, an unusual gesture. "Ris has always been the most advanced city for magical development, but I am sure that Rea's treasure was not the mere product of their technology. It was more related to the legacies of its past."

That the late Queen of Ris had had access to a legacy comparable to the Six Great Gods? It was an intriguing prospect, especially if the half-elf's hands had managed to get hold of them. An appropriate reward was to be expected after the services rendered.

"Do you know anything about it?"

The woman denied with the shaking of her head. "Only that it dates back more than two centuries. Rea always liked to speak in riddles."

It coincided with Antilene's idea of the old hag. "How did she die so easily?"

"Sometimes things are not as they appear," Kista said. "No matter what magical powers she had, fatigue and old age had been battering Rea's body for years now. Maybe ... she just let herself go when she had the chance."

Was that possible? Antilene was not so sure, and even Kista did not give the idea that she was convinced.

"Things are not always as they appear," the half-elf repeated those words aloud, which had decided to haunt her that day. "Yet sometimes that's just the way it is. We fill with difficulty what is easy to accept, because triviality bores us."

"You're overthinking it," Kista ran index and middle fingers over her chin, thoughtful. "Enjoy a good rest, Lady Fouche. The night will bring you counsel, in anticipation of the hard work ahead."

"Perhaps you are right. Good night, Lady Cabelia."

----------------------------------------

As expected, the following days saw a flurry of preparations. Dignitaries, messengers, soldiers, and even simple scullery men running from one side to the other, without stopping.

When the Prince and his retinue finally left the city, a melancholy air had enveloped the whole of Karnasus. Walking through the alleys, listening to the chatter of passersby, Antilene could sense the worry, the fear that mounted at every corner. The remaining garrison was stretched to the bone and would not withstand an assault launched against the walls for long.

Some reinforcements had left from Greater Listaran and Grand Wythes, but when they would join their defenses no one could know.

The half-elf spent hours scanning the horizon ahead, expecting to spot the first signs of the enemy in the distance; small dark dots that would grow clearer and more distinct in a future that never decided to come. She remained seated on the marble of the fortifications, ignoring the murmurs of the few sentries mounting guard, with the sun and clouds keeping her company most of the time.

"Have you noticed anything interesting by being here?"

There was no need to turn around to recognize who was addressing her.

"After a lifetime of staring at dark walls, a golden sunrise has something special."

"Did you never see the morning rise when you were in the Theocracy?"

"Sometimes, when I woke up really early. Many were the evenings when I happened to lie down early, for lack of alternatives to spend the night. As you can well imagine, towards the early hours of the day I was already bright and snappy. Then I would head to the rooftops of the Cathedral and watch the citizens wake up and head to their places of work. The capital was brisk already this early. So full of life. It gave meaning to what my task was."

The first rays arrived and brought with them their intense warmth, crushing the icy cold that brushed her skin. Antilene rubbed her hands together for warmth, noticing her breath materialize into a silvery frost. She repeated that gesture a few times, finding amusement in something so insignificant.

"Most of the time, though, I watched from my seat," the half-elf continued, letting her brother sit next to her. Logem handed her a cup of steaming milk and honey, which she willingly accepted. Antilene almost had a quiver of pleasure when she took her first sip. "In those instances, sunlight filtered through the large stained glass windows, playing with those reflections, almost animating the beautiful figures carved in the glass. I don't think I am able to do justice to that splendid sight."

The elf's equipment shone brightly in the sunlight, highlighting the splendid craftsmanship of his first-rate gears. For her part, Antilene, covered her battle paraphernalia -a splendid adamantium armor given to her by Alexander before he left and assortments of priceless magical items from the Theocracy- under mundane clothing. A dark blouse, a pair of gloves, manticore leather pants and ermine shoes, suitable for rough trails.

"Can we say it was beautiful?"

"Yes. Yes, it was beautiful." The legs went back and forth in the void. A fall from the height they were at would have lasted quite a while.

"Here," when Antilene was finished with the hot drink, Logem handed her a bag containing an assortment of various treats. The half-elf pulled out one that looked so much like the cream puffs they made in the Theocracy, although very small in size.

"What is it?"

"A local specialty. Small pralines filled with a very sweet cream made from the yolks of the eggs of a particular species of griffon vultures. The milk, on the other hand, is from ordinary cows, but raised with selected fields of emerald grass."

For a sweet tooth they proved sufficient. "Not bad," murmured Antilene, after quickly downing one in a single mouthful. "Considering where we are, it's a wonder there aren't bugs or other such oddities in it."

The stay in the Union had stimulated attention in even the most unusual fields. Having awareness of what you were stuffing into your mouth was a priority not to be overlooked.

"Some varieties have a type of grasshopper as part of the recipe. To be specific, it's the wings that have a flavor very similar to sugar. It seems that many frogmen from the swamp near Tob are crazy about them. I tasted one, but they had a strangely caramelized aftertaste. It was weird." Logem stared at her as if he had just said the most natural thing in the world. "I thought it more prudent to stay within the realm of purely human preferences, but if you're curious to give them a try they shouldn't be hard to find."

"I'd rather eat lizardmen's paws."

"I will remember that," the elf tilted his head slightly, registering that information in some jamb of his memory. "There are fine brands of oil that make them a meal fit for kings when properly used as a base for frying, but many races are reluctant to venture into such unusual experiences." It was difficult to assert whether he was the one who did not understand too much refined sarcasm or she was the one who was taken for a proverbial ride all too easily.

"I didn't take you for a cooking enthusiast."

"I'm not, but during my travels I've been exposed to many cultures, and I've obsessively jotted down any details that might be useful to my mission." The immense library she had seen in the lodge in Evasha was still carved limpidly in Antilene's mind. The perfect guide to eliminating one's father was enshrined in hundreds and hundreds of shelves. A best seller could have been made out of it. "All that information now laps here, coming out at the most unexpected circumstances."

"You never know when it might come in handy," and, to be fair, part of Antilene could not refrain from feeling a modicum of envy toward the elf she called brother. A lifetime of adventures and discoveries, which had tickled her imagination on pages flipped over and over again, until not even the miracle called magic had scratched its worn yellow paper, its folds soiled with greasy fingerprints. "Perhaps our mysterious enemy has as their weakness an ointment made of troll feet sweat."

"That would be quite bizarre," Logem said.

"Yeah, it would be."

Logem was older than her, and had his own centuries on his shoulders. He was not inclined to talk about his past, but Antilene was pretty sure the elf would not be reluctant to share it with her. It was just a matter of finding the right occasion. Not today, not tomorrow. Someday, not too far away.

As was its whimsical habit, time passed quickly with the onset of relaxation.

The two of them had finished with that unusual breakfast when Logem decided to turn to more serious matters. The guards were beginning to shift, flocks of birds were moving through one of the nearby thickets, and the cloudless sky was a blue that promised a calm and peaceful day, as the previous ones had been.

"That magistrate Kosta you asked me to look for… I didn't get a spider from the hole. Karnasus is big and I am bereft of informants and contacts."

One could begin to sense the hustle and bustle of the city waking up with its inhabitants. That continuous trammel that decorated the landscape with artificial and mechanical sounds, lost in a totally incomprehensible rhythm.

"It doesn't matter," Antilene reassured him. "Kista's guards also inspected every neighborhood from top to bottom, getting the same results. Either he managed to leave the city, or ... The best way for him to hide is in front of everyone's eyes, I guess." The network of fortifications where they were located let no point escape. The royal palace, located at the highest part of the citadel, towered over everything, casting its shadow.

Ahead of them, something could be glimpsed on the horizon.

Her brother nodded. "Even today the halfling you led here did not leave the room. She and her father barricaded themselves in there, not even letting the servants in. It is very strange. You'd think they wouldn't want curious people."

"I'm not surprised. Terror plays nasty tricks. And if you have to hide your dirty laundry, there is no better bed than your own where to throw it." Although it was unusual, that behavior could be justified with the fear that the killer was still nearby. "I'll stop by later to take a look, when things get more chaotic," the half-elf sighed, "I always complain about inactivity, but I didn't think having a whole list of commitments could be so unpleasant. Rather, how are the others in our group organizing?"

"They have all decided to stay here with you. Etienne and Melody included. They are not fighters and I don't think Agravaine and I will be able to manage to protect them without any problems in case of an invasion."

There was a pause of a few seconds. Pulling up with her nose, Antilene smelled an unusual earthy odor mixed with the other smells the wind carried. Logem, whose perception senses were far more developed, crowded. A cacophony of screams and various screeches forced them to raise their tone of voice, which had remained subdued until then.

It was starting.

"What about the three former slave girls? Do you think they can be of use to you?"

"A ranger, a priest, and a druid always have utility. If the years as slaves had not diluted their abilities, they would have been good elements." Even the elf's impassivity could not hold back a note of disgust. "Your homeland has made our people pay the price of betrayal with blooms of interest."

If the magical or combative abilities of elven slaves made their value skyrocket, the harsh regime of chains crippled their growth, preventing them from rising in power and revolting. It was, with some perverse adjustments, the same philosophy applied to Theocracy soldiers to obtain specialized experts in individual domains, but in reverse. Erya Uzruth had in all likelihood employed the same systems as their home nation to make the three even more obedient.

"We will make do with what we have on hand," Antilene said, not caring too much about it. "If things go wrong, I have left a teleportation item for you. I still have many given to me by the Theocracy. Don't make trouble using it," Antilene stood up, shaking off the dust that had accumulated on her pants with a few pats. She huffed in annoyance at the incessant noise that had no end. "Look at them running."

Around the half-elf, the small number of soldiers posted on the walls did their best to ignore her. Low-ranking corporals loitered around to check that everything was running smoothly, aware that more than one responsibility rested on their shoulders.

"If a battle should break out here as well, we should choose someone to be elevated as a hero of the nation. I would prefer a human, but the raw material the Prince has left us with ... leaves a lot to be desired," extending the right hand to her brother to help him up, Antilene cast a glance at some of those present. An orc with two large swords on his back and a black-feathered birdman clutching an enchanted staff were, in her approximate judgment, the most promising. The rest, to be kind, were conscripts with little experience, not yet baptizedthed in the blood of the battlefield. "What do you say?"

The walls, now filled in, were a jumble of faces and physiognomies coming together. The fighting aura was mediocre and the equipment of those soldiers barely sufficient, in the minority of cases. In most, they had been forced to make do. Truly the reserves of the reserves had been deployed to protect that bastion.

"If you repeat Evasha's massacre, I don't think they will be very convincing," that response from Logem gave the impression of being an unconvinced grumble.

"We will find something. Alexander's scribe remained at the palace. We may very kindly suggest to him to give me a hand. Some pens have the ability to make their writing very convincing, who knows why. How did the Gods say it? A quid pro quo."

Someone ordered them to leave, ranting very rudely. Antilene silenced him with a single look. Good manners were a discovery dating back to the dawn of history, which was precisely why many people tended to forget about them unfortunately.

"What does that mean?"

"Something in place of something else. Doing each other a favor. He will help me craft a story for the bards, and I'll let his head stick to the neck for a reasonable time."

"A generous offer."

"You know I have a tender heart."

The clouds were still white. The black rising from the earth was dust, dust caused by hooves shaking the earth and marching waves and waves of centaurs from the great plains. Black that did not glow from the darkness of Charon's Guidance, now unfurled, now in the hands of the half-elf.

"Shall we begin?"

When night would come, when the moon would light them with its passage, the disturbed peace would return to Karnasus. Of all treasure, the most precious.