Aramaz wept with their kin at the loss of their brother. On the eighth day after Baelteus' passing, the siblings gathered to mourn his loss and plan for their future. The remaining Numina decided on fundamental rules to govern themselves through their newly discovered bindings, agreeing upon the list that follows:

1. Any knowledge that could bring imbalance to the Numen must be shared between all. If this rule is broken, the remaining Numina will use all their might to cripple the betrayer. Leaving no follower or shrine standing.

2. A Numen is not responsible for the actions of its followers. If a follower breaks any rules set aside by the Numina, another may prescribe punishment to that follower, but the Numen they worship cannot be harmed.

3. Baelteus' life supersedes his will. If a Numina discovers a way to return the Numen lost to us. Baelteus will be reborn, regardless of what effect this will have on the world.

The Numina agreed to these terms, each reluctant to trust another. All plotting for their own rise and goals for power, delaying the inevitable, as one day Aramaz would lord over all.

* Sylvin Polt, Third Fang of Aramaz.

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Zane snapped shut the large volume commandeered by the followers of Aramaz surrounding this city. He sat atop a massive sandy hill overlooking Dulcrois while the followers of Aramaz still encircled the city's gates like a short flesh-shaped wall. Their numbers growing larger by the day.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure, Cassidy?" Zane said, eyes never leaving the besieged city.

"You were absent from the war council assembly again," Yates replied.

Yates dropped his shield and sword to the ground, seating himself next to Zane.

"Some of the others are whispering about you. Rumors have spread that you're working with the city. Others have called you craven, afraid of the force Dulcrois will raise against us."

"All valid points," Zane replied, his voice filled with apathy. "What do you think?"

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Yates grimaced before replying. "I know you're no coward and not stupid enough to trust the Suns without a plan. So, against every impulse I have, I'm forced to defend you."

Zane shot Yates a look of disbelief before breaking out into laughter. "You!? Defend me?!"

Yates' dark skin flushed as he averted his gaze from his fellow Fang. "Yeah, again, it's as if I wanted to. I push blame on their ignorance and desperate grabs for power. Usually shuts them up pretty quick."

"Aw, Cassypoo, I'm touched," Zane replied mockingly.

"Yeah, well, if you're gonna be like that," Yates replied, picking himself out of the sand. "Maybe I won't correct them next time they accuse you of treason or heresy."

"Yates, stay," Zane demanded. "Unless you have no interest in my dealings with the city."

Yates plopped himself back into the sand. "Well?"

"Do you know how many followers of Aramaz have been allowed entry through Dulcrois' gates?"

"None."

"That's right. A city over 500 years old, one marveled for being a pinnacle of magic and engineering. Yet, not one of our fellow followers has been allowed entry."

"We've been taking knowledge for Aramaz for more than four times this city's lifespan. So it should be no surprise that they fear us."

"I suppose," Zane replied. "But we all seek the same things. Not all of us are trying to pillage, well, unless they have something worth pillaging."

"So, we've sent countless followers of Aramaz who have tried to get into the city before to seek its knowledge. How do you plan to do anything differently? Food and water are produced inside the city, so siege warfare won't work. And the gates are filled with so many divine weapons and artifacts we would be fools to try a frontal assault. This seems to be a lost cause."

"Would seem that way, wouldn't it?" Zane replied, picking up a pile of sand and allowing it to blow away in the wind. "You said it yourself, Yates. Countless others loyal to Aramaz and dozens of Fangs have tried before to steal the knowledge from this massive tomb, yet no success. But we're not looking for knowledge, are we? No, what we seek is harder to define and infinitely harder to sequester."

"So... your plan?" Yates asked impatiently.

Zane grabbed their commandeered edition of Brief Records of the Early Cycle, flipping back to a section labeled the Bulrenny Wars.

"My plan, or our plan, is a straightforward one. We wait."

"Wait?"

"That's correct," Zane replied with growing disinterest.

"Maybe they were right about you after all," Yates replied, picking himself up and beginning to storm off."

"Fine," Zane continued, stopping Yates in his tracks. "If you don't get it, I'll spell it out. Just don't tell any of those brown nosers in the war council."