The Lord King of Centaura, Niklas of the Warrior House Destrian, rolled off the handsome stable boy when he heard someone approaching the barn. Niklas' bare torso was slick with sweat and seed, and he'd only begun wiping it down with his tunic when his best friend, greatest confidante, and major pain in the arse Oliver Belgrave appeared at the barn door.

The knight flushed at what he saw but did not turn away. "For Goddesses' sake, Niklas."

"What do you look so bent in the craw about? Nothing you haven't seen before," the king replied with a sideways grin.

The stable boy gathered his clothes in a hurry, not bothering to dress first as he ran from the barn. Oliver pointedly stared at the ceiling until he was gone.

"I've a theory," Niklas said as he propped his arms behind his head and crossed his feet. The soft hay felt good against his naked body. "That the longer you abstain from anything resembling sex, the crankier you get with me."

"You're late for the Festival."

"Honestly. Take a tumble with a nice lad or lady. It'll loosen those frown lines if anything. When's the last time you've been to the slyhouse? The girls are always asking after 'the tall one with the sullen eyes and hair like shadowed gold'. They seem quite fond of the shape of your jaw, as well."

"Nik, stop. What if the councilors heard you talking about the slygirls like this?"

"Those droopy old bastards and crones have heard worse from my mouth."

"Of that there is no doubt."

"The slyboys are quite a sight, too, if that's what's scratching your itch these days."

"On that topic, how have you not run through every blacksmith assistant and farm boy on the island yet?"

The king stood and stretched, yawning as he moved. He plucked strands of hay matted to his chest hair. "What can I say, dear Oliver? I'm just giving the people what they desire. Don't be so rutting jealous you can't bag anyone as pretty as that tail that just ran out."

Oliver's bronzed skin would have reddened were he not so tan. "A couple of squires told me there is a foreign committee asking after you. The Red… er..."

"The Red Eclipse?" The king scrounged around the barn for his clothes. "Sounds familiar. A coalition of mages, I've heard."

Oliver went rigid. "Is this true, then? Mages in Centaura, unguarded?"

"If the passage guards allowed them into port, they likely have peace permits."

"Did you know they were coming?"

Niklas shrugged, pulled on his undershirt, then his trousers. He hated the feeling of clothes on his body. He'd rule Centaura completely nude if he could. "The councilors like to gossip. There's been whispers of this Red Eclipse since the end of the war. Apparently, they've been traveling across the All Continent on these peacekeeping missions, so the word goes."

"I don't like this," Oliver shook his head. "What reason would mages have to visit a small island kingdom? Do they not have enough to worry about? And button your fly already, Nik!"

"What, and miss the opportunity to put my best attribute on display for our new guests?"

Oliver stared at him. Niklas roared with laughter and punched the chest plate of his armor. "How is it possible you're still the same stick-in-the-shit you were in knightstudy?"

"How is it possible you haven't matured one day since we were in knightstudy?"

Humor wasn't the only way they were dissimilar. Oliver kept his dark blond hair short and tidy, while Niklas' hair was chocolate brown and long enough to be tied back in a knot. The king's eyes were dark and playful, while the knight's were pale grey and set with a permanent intensity. Niklas was a great deal scruffier than his friend, with an impressive beard that was just on the verge of appearing overgrown. And while both men had hirsute, muscular physiques, Niklas was the bulkier of the two, and just a hair taller (a detail that Oliver often disputed).

Their lifelong friendship puzzled other members of the King's court. One man was cold where the other ran hot, one was boisterous where the other was sullen. But it made sense to the two of them, this oil and water camaraderie, even if it made sense to one else.

After some squabbling over where Niklas had left his crown (which turned out to be half-hidden in the barn feeding trough), the duo returned to the royal castle. They were halfway across the thronehall - and deep into an argument about whether Niklas should take a bath first - when four figures emerged from the shadows.

Oliver unsheathed his sword and shield and spun to guard the king with practiced precision. Niklas snorted a laugh as the four people stepped into the light. Two women and two men, each in exotic robes and intricate capes that did not match the basic, egalitarian dress of the kingdom.

"If you're here to kill us you're sadly mistaken about your chances."

The first to speak was the tallest – a woman with dark red hair braided down to her waist. Her voice boomed, as commanding and intimidating as her physical presence. "A dramatic entrance could not be helped. We've been waiting to speak with you for quite a while, Lord King."

Niklas frowned. "And who the bleeding hell are you?"

"I am Vishi, Arch Witch of the Battlemages."

"A battlemage in my court. You sure you're not here to kill me?"

"Nik," Oliver hissed.

The battlemage smiled without humor. "Tell your guard to stand down. We are visitors here in full accordance with the Chaos War treaty."

Niklas walked the few short steps to his throne and sat. His eyes danced along the three remaining people. The other woman in the group stood close to Vishi, short, strange, and aloof looking. The two men couldn't have been more opposite of each other, physically – one was solid and brutish while the other was delicate and wispy. "The rest of you. Either introduce yourselves or leave. I have several tankards of ale in my near future, and the sight of you lot has me thirsty."

Vishi introduced the other woman in the group, whose head was shaved and marked with ornate tattoos. "This is Naxa, Arch Witch of the Astralmages."

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"She can't speak for herself?" Niklas cocked a brow.

"I can," Naxa replied airily, without emotion or weight, "If I feel it's necessary."

Niklas and Oliver exchanged a look. Astralmages were known to be rather loopy, always speaking as if they were thousands of miles away.

The brutish man stepped forward next. He sported a long, bushy moustache and his bare arms were carpeted in dark hair. He could've passed for a knight or a mercenary were it not for the mystical staff strapped to his back. "Eddr. Arch Warlock of the Necromages."

"A necromage," Niklas repeated, "I've never met one of your faction before."

Eddr folded his giant arms across his equally large chest. He said something to Vishi in a low hush. She replied with an annoyed whisper.

"What's the problem?" Oliver asked.

Vishi cleared her throat. "Forgive Eddr. He… wishes to enjoy the food and drink and, um… intimate company of tonight's Festival. Sooner rather than later."

Niklas chuckled. Seemed he and the necromage had something in common. He looked to the remaining man of the group – the prettier one. "And who are you?"

"I am Hjulan," the man grinned, somewhat temptingly. He had a calm, angelic face, framed by pastel blue hair that shimmered in the thronehall's ambient light. He spoke with a dreamy, lilting tone. "Arch Warlock of the Curemages."

Vishi nodded to her colleagues. "The four mages standing before you are the greatest of our respective disciplines. In the ruins of the Chaos War, we've come together to form a peaceful coalition, to show the world that mages can work in harmony for the betterment of all. We are the Red Eclipse."

"And what business do you have with the King?" Oliver's voice was practically a growl. His hand stayed on his sword's hilt.

The astralmage Naxa locked him with an intense stare. "This one has magic running through him," she said. "Yet he is not a warlock."

Oliver began to respond but Niklas cut him short before he could make a tense situation worse. "My friend and brother in spirit, Oliver Belgrave, suffered the loss of his left arm during the Chaos War. He was grafted with a metal prosthetic."

All eyes in the room fell to Oliver's prosthetic arm, half-hidden behind his red cloak. The knight did not meet any of their gazes.

"The work of ironmages," Naxa said, a note of surprise in her otherwise deadpan voice. Her head tilted back. "I feel it. It's magic that tethers that false limb to your body… and it is magic that allows it to move in concert with your mind. Isn't that right?"

Vishi studied their faces. "I don't understand. You shun magic in your kingdom but accepted the work of ironmages?"

Niklas stood so quickly the throne nearly toppled over. "Without the work of the ironmages Oliver would have been left a cripple to rot in the Deathfields with the rest of the knights and valkyries lost in that despicable war! A war that you bloody lot started! While your factions ripped and tore each other to pieces, humanity was left defenseless in the crossfire, and none of you cared one damn bit!"

Oliver took his friend's shoulder. "Nik…"

The king shrugged away his hand. Once the fire was unleashed it was impossible to throttle. "Don't you dare come to my court and pass judgment on me for doing everything I could to save this man's life!"

The Red Eclipse stood silent as they absorbed his words. Hjulan stepped forward, hands clasped in supplication. "Forgive the indelicate words of my colleagues, Lord King. This is a fraught time for us all, humans and mage-born alike. Allow me to say this: although the Chaos War was largely fought between mages, not all of us agreed with or supported this bloody, pointless endeavor. We sincerely apologize for humanity being swept into a conflict that should never have reached the worldly scale it did."

Niklas, still seething from his outburst, took a beat to calm himself. "This is why your kind has come to Centaura?"

Vishi squeezed Hjulan's hand, a thank you. The curemage smiled reverently in return. Clearly, she was the leader and they were her charges. "Correct, Lord King. The purpose of our visit is to formally express our apologies. Just as the ironmages had by allowing your guard a new chance at life. We've been engaged in a pilgrimage of peace across the All Continent and now we bring that message to the isles."

Niklas returned to his throne. He sat, thinking, observing the strange faces watching him so expectantly. "And what are the terms of your visit?"

"Same as the terms of any peace permit," Vishi said. She produced the document from an inner pocket of her battle tunic. "This allows us at least one month's stay, subject to extension. We've already paid our deposit and quite a generous keeper's fee to the Dandelion Inn. While on your soil, we wish to observe the culture of your kingdom, to offer support where we can, and to establish a relationship of trust with your citizens."

"In case you weren't aware," Niklas gestured to her permit. "A king has veto power over that piece of paper should he deem its usage a danger or detriment to his kingdom."

Vishi approached the stairs to the throne. A challenge, almost. That she was the most formidable person in the room came as no surprise to Niklas. Battlemages were fearsome fighters and strategists even without the aid of magic. "What say you, then, Lord King? Do you deem us a danger or detriment to Centaura?"

Another stretch of silence. An eternity. And then a knowing smile creased Niklas' beard. "That, I am not entirely sure. But for now, I will respect the terms of your permit. I assume you will be decent guests."

Vishi matched his smile and tone. "I assume you will be a decent host."

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"Are you going to nag me all the way to my chambers?" Niklas asked over his shoulder as he threw open the doors to the royal bedroom.

"You don't know anything about these people," Oliver said, not bothering to hide his irritation. "You haven't even spoken with the councilors about this and that is their very purpose. To council. And you allow these strangers to stay? In some blasted inn? Among your citizens?"

The king fell back onto his bed and rubbed his eyes. "I should've closed that door behind me."

"Nik. I am not only your friend, I am a member of your battalion. The only thing that matters to me is the safety of my king."

"Then you need a hobby."

"Could you be bloody serious for once?"

"I'm late for my speech. Why are you still here? You're not even on duty right now. Go and enjoy the Festival, son of a wyvern."

Oliver exhaled quietly. "I take this to mean you're unwilling to discuss this further."

"Ah, you know me so well. Where'd that crown of mine go?"

"The councilors will have your arse strung up from the highest tower for this, you realize."

"I'll just tell them it was your idea. Honestly, where did that stupid crown go?"

"It's still on your head, you fool."

Niklas pawed at it to confirm. He snorted with laughter, took it off, and undid the knot low on the back of his head. Chocolate brown hair fell to his shoulders. "I tied my hair in haste after we left the barn. I always seem to get the knot a bit crooked. It looks better when you do it."

Oliver grunted. "Me?"

"Would you mind? A fool like me can't do it himself. I'll need to look sharp for my speech. Isn't that why you interrupted my private time in the first place?"

"Ah, right. If only I could unsee that whole misadventure." He gathered Niklas' hair together. Though he didn't notice, the king smiled. He always liked how it felt when Oliver did this.

"Fling insults all you like. By proxy it was the closest you've had to rutting all year."

"It hasn't been a year," Oliver jabbed back. "And what is this obsession with my love life?"

"We're men, you and me. We have our desires. No matter what the other knights say about you, you're still human."

Oliver snapped the hair tie a little tighter than normal at that comment. Niklas reacted with a yelp. "Your hair's done."

The king admired his reflection in the vanity mirror. "Feels nice, looks even better. Not crooked at all. I feel like I could slay an entire army of lycanmen and I wouldn't have a single hair out of place. Dare I suggest your talents are wasted on a sword and shield."

"Have I mentioned you're late to your speech?"

"That would be your thousandth mention, yes. Will I see you in the crowd?"

"I don't know, Nik. It's been a long day. I was thinking of a bath and a bottle of wine."

"Sounds perfect. Now if you could throw in a pretty young thing to get you nice and clean…"

"Goodnight, you fool."

"I hear the love in your voice, Oliver. Try as you might to hide it."

The knight paused at the door. His voice went low, thoughtful. "I'll only ask you this once more. The Red Eclipse. You're sure you're not making a mistake?"

Niklas watched his hands as he fitted them into his gauntlets. They did not shake. "I may have temporarily taken the title of king, but I was born a warrior and I will likely die a warrior. Do not mistake my hospitality for submission."

This seemed to satisfy his hard-headed friend, though it was often difficult to tell. Oliver wasn't the most expressive man.

"Now, get out of here. I have a speech to give. And then I'm going to get drunk."