Arakiel froze up as Nyanna playfully ran her slender hands through his hair while her magic healed him at a staggering rate, but not only the body, but his fatigue as well.

Was this true healing like Mellia did, or just some highly complex combination of fatigue and bodily recuperation? As far as he was aware, Nyanna wasn’t capable casting astral spells, yet it felt a lot like true healing.

Either way, his bodily dissipated as the warmth spread throughout him.

The seelie had manifested beside him, a satisfied smile on her lips while her gesture appeared overly affectionate.

It made him uncomfortable, yet he could not shy away.

From behind, Aurora’s worry had ceased while to the left, Alanna caressed Ezekiel in a similar manner and judging by the man’s looks, he was enjoying the seelie’s attention a tad too much.

“Once again, you fulfilled my expectations, little mortal,” Nyanna spoke softly, but her words held a certain undertone. “Such a vigorous display of emotions… it makes me want to tease you all over again.”

“We did as you requested, my Lady.” Arakiel responded while trying his best to keep calm. He dared not meet her eyes simply because he feared he might get lost in them.

He called her atrocities to mind and further focused on his ambition to make her his later down the road, once he attained suitable power. No matter what happened, he couldn’t get coaxed in – he owed it to himself, to Mellia and to Aurora.

“You did…” the fae affirmed softly as she turned his head to face her. A soft smile formed on her delicious lips. “And for that, one of you shall inherit our realm,” Nyanna went on, causing Arakiel’s alarm bells to go off.

His gaze looked over to Ezekiel, who also looked back at him, a complicated expression forming on his face.

“Indeed,” Alanna continued while around them, the throne room continued to burn. Not long and it’d reach a critical point, although the seelie could probably extinguish the fire at any point.

It was almost curious that they hadn't done so yet.

“What do you want us to do?” Ezekiel queried carefully, yet the hesitation in his tone was palpable. “Do you want us to kill each other?”

The seelie giggled – both of them. “Oh no – that would be quite cruel… wouldn’t it?” Alanna responded bemusedly. “It is just that we as twins want our men to be equal as well and I must admit I feel a little shafted.”

Her eyes fell onto Arakiel who had just slipped out of his destroyed doublet after which he hurriedly pulled his House’s duo-colored cloak from his Spatial Ring in order to return some privacy to his otherwise nude body.

He was ever thankful that the Spatial Ring seemed impervious to outside influences.

“How am I inferior!?” Ezekiel had shouted meanwhile at her comment.

“I’m afraid to say that your ancestry isn’t nearly as capable as that of my twin’s pick,” Alanna went on to respond. “And although your background isn’t terrible, it’s also not nearly as significant as I want it to be.”

“Did you hear that?” Nyanna commented as she continued to ruffle Arakiel’s hair. “Even my sister acknowledges your potential…”

Her voice turned a darker as her grip intensified. “Don’t squander it.”

“You little…” Ezekiel whispered, causing Alanna to chuckle once again.

“Oh please, little prideful knight. I am aware of your ambition regarding myself… I approved of it. Nonetheless, we need to evaluate you just a little more…”

Nyanna picked up her twin’s trail, outlining. “Until this month is over, we will evaluate you individually one last time… see whether your potential truly lives up to our impressions and belief.”

“You, my little knight… will kill King Nerigal,” Alanna went on to state while Nyanna once again forced Arakiel to look into her large pink irises that held golden sprinkles. She spoke in a low tone, but the intensity surprised him.

“And you, I want you to bring the Three Rivers and its people to heel. Subjugate them, prove yourself a capable leader, a future ruler.”

“I’ve no interest in ruling, nor did I ever want to become a leader!” Arakiel objected right away. He did it more out of reflex than anything else, The seelie’s immaculate countenance took a slight hit, one of notable displeasure.

“Give it a try,” she replied instead, adding. “You’ve proven a knack already… I want to see you embrace it.”

“I’ve no interest in embracing anything like that, nor did I ever want to direct a party,” Arakiel objected once more, feeling suddenly reminded of his youth once more.

Irritably, he recalled it – and the fact that he had wanted to close that particular chapter of failure. So many assets to the House… wasted on hubris and vanity.

The seelie noticed… of course she did. He had never spoken of that particular part and now she had noticed and the devious smile on her face, it caused a shiver to run down his spine.

“A snippet of your past I haven’t savored yet…?” Nyanna queried with some surprise. “Do tell.”

“Not here, not now.” Arakiel blocked her off, looking away once more.

“Fine, have it your way.” Nyanna objected in a pouting attitude, her next words coming across as genuinely sullen. “If you’ve no intention of honoring my trust, then I’ve no further use of you. Anna-dear – let’s take your knight along and aid Nerigal instead. I’m sure he’ll be more willing than this junk here.”

She threw him a sidelong glance to gauge his reaction and he… he was stunned at her sudden shift, but his reflex was already making everything worse once more.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, causing her predatory smile to widen as she slowly turned towards him once more.

“Yeees?” Nyanna asked in a drawn-out, smug manner. “Has my little knight recalled his position at last?”

He swallowed his pride and straightened his back, holding his right hand towards his chest. “Forgive me, my Lady.”

“You are forgiven, little mortal. Do not defy me now.” Nyanna stated flat-out, her tone having shifted to a grave tone.

“Very well, I will do as you ask.”

She clasped her hands and chuckled. “Excellent. As long as you and your dove entertain me, I will treat you cordially.”

He couldn’t recall stating her it this bluntly, but it had been the truth all this time. Arakiel cursed his own weakness.

“Arakiel,” Ezekiel spoke up in a similarly serious tone. His eyes stared intensely into Arakiel’s. “Good luck, my friend.”

“To you as well,” Arakiel returned and gave him an approving nod.

The blonde Ascendant then called over Selene and left the throne room alongside the two immortals, leaving Arakiel along with Nyanna, Aurora and King Cahir’s body.

“Take a good look at him,” the seelie said meanwhile, motioning to the severely disfigured dead Alterator.

“The fate of someone who displeases you?” Arakiel queried as he suddenly felt Aurora’s hand reach for his. He offered her a quick glance alongside a soothing smile, but it was quite obvious that she was deeply agitated and distressed, given her reddened eyes, flushed cheeks and her pleading gaze.

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He pulled her close, hoping that it might alleviate some of her fear.

“Someone who displeases me doesn’t get to rule a realm for decades,” Nyanna responded calmly. “Cahir was a good man that outlived his usefulness.”

“What of this sword?”

“That old thing? A failed artifact that a smitten blacksmith once created for us.” The seelie responded with a casualness that sounded believable. She had no interest in this thing.

“H-how old are you?” Aurora suddenly asked in a timid voice but Arakiel felt incredibly proud that she had spoken in the first place, immediately ruffling her hair a bit.

“Never ask a lady her age, little dove.” Nyanna responded neutrally. “I’ll just say this much. My twin and I were born from a true succession that happened a long, long time ago – far, far before the Transcended was a thing and the planes had a proper order.”

Nyanna handed him a dagger. “Take Cahir’s head, but leave the rest of his body for the flames. His remains deserve a proper burial.”

He took it and turned to Aurora, suggesting. “You should wait outside.”

After a bit of hesitation, she agreed.

The immortal faded into the background once more, but Arakiel always felt her gaze on him even when he left the burning aula regia alongside Aurora not too long afterwards, making sure that she couldn’t see the bloody head he held in his other hand.

Outside, he dressed into his last set of casual clothes he had stored inside his Spatial Ring.

His aurea seemed deeply and when he asked, she just muttered something about him focusing on the task at hand and not wanting to be a bother right now.

It hurt and warmed him at the same time and he once again reinforced his belief that he had to make it up to her.

And in order to do that, he needed to man up and get this whole thing going right now. He could bemoan not wanting to be a leader when this planeswalk was over.

For now, it was imperative that he did just that.

Besides, it wasn’t as though he truly disliked it now wasn’t it?

He recalled a few other occasions and the satisfaction he had taken from other people’s praise.

Taking heart, he set out to take control of the situation.

Several Middle soldiers attempted revenge on his way outside, yet their attempts ended before they could even pose a threat to him.

Nyanna – who remained most likely invisible to everyone – did not take any prisoners and anyone that sought to threaten him died on the spot.

A little later, none did and as he emerged from the keep, he met a small unit of heavy cavalry that kept other Middles from reinforcing the keep.

Basam ibun Zaki was among them and when he saw King Cahir’s severed head, he began to laugh out loud from beneath his helmet. The other soldiers quickly followed.

They immediately whipped some Middles into service, letting them proclaim the death of their ruler while other soldiers were to fly new colors on the keep’s many towers.

When he queried about the Executor Djinni’s right hand, Arakiel merely mentioned that his friend had gone out to dispatch the other menace, King Nerigal.

Then, he ordered Basam to lead him to the few remaining front lines. It was time to put the Middle Kingdom’s last traces of resistance to rest.

With the bloody help of his invisible puppet master, Arakiel brought overwhelming power to each battlefield he rode towards, ending any remaining Middle opposition with a mere gesture of his hand – a gesture that saw people suddenly freeze mid-motion, easily allowing the Hosts’ soldiers to overwhelm their opponents.

The Three Rivers fell in a matter of hours, especially when the rumors of the king’s demise and Arakiel’s utterly overbearing presence circulated.

By the time the sun set, most hostile pockets had been put down while some opted for surrender, hoping for mercy. They might find it in captivity.

Meanwhile, he, Aisha, Akili and the rest of his commanding staff had already made great strides on the chosen path forward – the path that’d ultimately result in the establishment of a new order, a new reality for this plane.

A curfew was put in place while droves of prisoners were herded in the central square where Arakiel – mostly in front of his soldiers – proclaimed the end of the Middle Kingdom and its ruling house. It was met with thunderous applause by his soldiers and scattered cries of dejection by the prisoners.

As the capital of the old kingdom and a prospective seat of power for a new, rising power, he decreed that the Three Rivers be handled differently than any other town or city they had subjugated thus far.

Every soldier that had fought alongside him in this battle had not only proven himself a man and valuable asset to society, they were also enticed by several future prospects that he had yet to reveal. After all, there was still another enemy at large – most notably the remaining Middle armies and the forces of the northerners.

For the moment, he laid out a few new rules which weren’t exactly received enthusiastically, but he had to think long-term here. No assaults were permitted on the noncombatant citizenry and no looting was to take place. Nonetheless, all captives were to be sold off immediately for little to no cost. The soldiers were once again allowed to determine their own prices.

Furthermore, the Smokeless Host’s logistical corps had preferential treatment in this regard for all services rendered. In addition, they were to take temporary hold of the Three Rivers’ administration in this time of transition.

Lastly, he promised a ‘special’ announcement on the next day, for which he also wanted key figures of the Three Rivers present after which he spent the rest of the evening personally and rewarding soldiers or units that had achieved major notable achievements in the admittedly short but intense battle of the Three Rivers.

The rewards were taken directly from King Chair’s treasury, but the authority and goodwill it brought him far outweighed any monetary gains he would’ve gotten by keeping it for himself.

Every day was an additional day of captivity for his little sister – and every single day was too much.

When he eventually retreated to a house that Shahar had secured for him well past midnight, he just leaned onto Aurora who informed him that she’d stay here for the time being to not get in his way. He made no attempts to dissuade her.

For today, he was much too tired for any physical wants which allowed them a somber and wholesome night in front of a fire, where they drifted off to sleep on each other’s shoulder.

On the next day, Arakiel announced a special ‘meet and greet’ that would take place between scions of noble and wealthy Middle city dwellers and his soldiers – with the intent to foster a somewhat cordial relationship that could smooth over some of the edges of hate between the two realms.

The idea was that these pairs would spend one or several days, perhaps even weeks together in order to get to know one another and if they were found even remotely compatible, then a betrothal or marriage was to take place. The Middle’s family would gain protection from any further repercussion while the Host’s warrior would get an actual wife or concubine instead of a slave with which they might day start a proper family.

Arakiel didn’t really care what would eventually become of it – he just wanted an excuse for the city to not get looted and its citizens displaced or massacred for there was still quite some blood lust in his army.

The image of Maduts’ Crossing was still in his mind and he’d rather avoid another scenario like this. Once this plane belonged to Kalanaar and more specific, House Alexandrite, they’d need capable people to keep things running.

The reception to his proposal could be described as restrained, but he hadn’t expected a lot of enthusiasm to begin with and the fact that his soldiers began to publicly auction off the prisoners certainly didn’t foster a healthy first impression between the Middle citizenry and the Host, but this way, he had time to meet with some of the Middle representatives, including those wealthy and noble families who stood to lose everything. In these meetings, he laid out the new realities, including the demise of all of the royal couple’s kin. No matter the angle, the Middle Kingdom’s days were numbered and if its citizens intended to come out more or less unscathed, they’d need to compromise.

Whether he succeeded in these talks, he couldn’t say. He came across as overbearing, but with the ability to see reason where it was adequate. Nonetheless, his position was clear: the Middles had to cooperate, or they would be punished harshly.

Most of this day and the next got lost in organizing a basic transition period for the Three Rivers with the intent of loosening the curfew and reviving public life far sooner than with other cities – he intended to give the Middle citizens a chance and if they didn’t seize it, then so be it, but he at least wanted to try.

On the third day after having slain King Cahir, he learned of two armies rapidly approaching from the north – the northern army of King Nerigal chasing a routed Middle army to be more precise.

When Nyanna ‘suggested’ he mobilize his own forces posthaste, he had no other choice then to do just that.

Arakiel wasn’t sure what had happened to Ezekiel and Selene, but he suspected that he’d find out soon enough.

In the span of two hours, the soldiers of the Host had assembled and moved out north across one of the three great rivers. Past noon, they reached a fairly flat grassy plain that was just beginning to reform and recuperate after having suffered from months of snow.

There, in the distance, he saw a whole swathe of panicked, unarmored soldiers running their way, running south – by the looks of it, they were fleeing headlong with every man and woman out for themselves. Those who wore lighter armor had long left those with heavier armor behind.

When these people spotted the Southern Host that began to assemble and form in their path of retreat, they desperately called for help and mercy.

Much, much further in the back, almost at the horizon, Arakiel spotted several groups of mounted, heavily armored troops that were running down the routed soldiers and judging by the snippets of sound that shone through, they were enjoying themselves quite a bit.

He could only suspect that Nyanna and Alanna had their hand in this as well, but either way – they had apparently found their mark.

With a simple order, Arakiel ordered the Smokeless and the Mirrors’ Host to prepare for combat.

It’d seem as if the last battle for the minor plane was about to happen after all.