It was against Dumah's protestations, not to mention my own better judgement, that I teleported to Razielim after only the briefest of respites. My brother feared the worst would happen, but to my surprise I found that second jump easier than my first. Though it was certainly strenuous, there was no falling into oblivion as soon as I appeared, though when I caught sight of myself in the nearest reflective surface I had to admit that I looked like death. I could teleport vast distances without killing myself it seemed, but it would take practice before I could do it without harm coming to me.

I arrived within the Razielim capital but not within Raziel's palace. Instead I made straight for the pantries and fortified myself, while pondering what exactly I was going to say to Azrael. As I formulated my words and imagined his responses I only found myself getting angrier. Angry that he had lied, angry that any of this had happened in the first place, angry at Raziel for doing this, angry even at my lord even, for leaving it to me to discover it. Fuelled by my recent feed and my righteous fury I made for Azrael's chambers. The same rooms where just a few days ago he had told me, so easily, that he knew little of border disputes.

When he saw me, he was surprised but greeted me with a beaming smile, one that faltered only slightly when it was not returned, "Meg?" he asked, "what brings you back this way?" He moved around his table, a table filled with papers, notes and maps which seemed to take on a new significance to me now that I knew of his subterfuge. I stepped back from him, refusing to be drawn into his embrace, something which did not go unnoticed, "what is it?"

Why did he have to sound so concerned?

"I have discovered something curious," I said, finding my voice, keeping it deliberately brittle. "I went to the border, I saw the Melchium and Turelim, both of them preparing for war and armed to the teeth with Dumahim weapons." His face remained impassive, revealing nothing, "so I went to Dumahim to speak with my brother." Still nothing, "and then I visited the smiths." Finally a reaction. It was so slight I would not have noticed it, were I not studying his face intently for any change. I saw a shadow of something pass over his eyes, just for an instant and then it was gone, but I knew then that I had him. "I saw your letter," I said, finally, "though given how meticulous you were in covering your tracks in every other regard I am surprised you put quill to paper yourself."

For a moment, and it really was just a moment, I saw everything that we had, everything that we had shared disappear in one cold, assessing look as he considered the lie. Instead he gestured non committally, "I did not expect the man to keep my letter, and even if he did, there are few who would recognise my hand."

The crack of my palm connecting with his cheek reverberated around us in the stillness. It did not faze him as I knew it would not, but I meant it more as an entirely symbolic gesture, than an attempt to hurt him. Azrael sighed and touched his cheek, ever so slightly flushed by the impact; the bone was almost certainly broken.

"You knew," I hissed, "you knew I was being sent to the border to investigate this and you said nothing!"

To my surprise he looked impatient, he had the gall to look at me as though I were the one annoying him. Before I realised I had done it, the sound of another slap rang out around us. He made an exasperated growl and pinned my arms to my side. "Of course I said nothing, and if you hadn't seen proof positive that I was involved I would be lying my damned tongue off to throw you off scent."

I shook him off me, "I can't believe you lied to me!"

That seemed to amuse him, "Really? You genuinely can't see what cause I would have to lie to you?" He sighed heavily, as though he were explaining something to a particularly dull fledgeling, "Meg. Listen to me. I like you, a lot. Maybe I would go as far as to say that I actually love you. Maybe. But my only loyalty is to Raziel. If my duty to Raziel requires me to lie to you I will not hesitate, nor will I feel guilty for it. Just as I know you would do the same for your lord. If Kain ordered you to kill me this instant you would do it. I know it, you know it, it's how the world works. As much as I care for you let's not pretend that we put each other before our masters." I opened my mouth to protest, but found the words dying on my tongue, he was right of course. It was a disconcerting a thought to imagine murdering Azrael at my lord's command, but I would do it. Lying to me suddenly seemed an insignificant thing by comparison.

"But why? Why would you go to all this trouble to provoke a conflict?" I asked, changing the subject. I didn't like to think of what we had in such cold and logical terms.

"Boredom," he said, bluntly.

I stared at him for a moment, "boredom?" I repeated.

"We're bored. All this," he waved his hand over the table behind him, "has become monotonous. If my daily tasks drive me to distraction how must it feel for my lord, who delegates it all to me, and has little else to occupy his time?"

My eyes were fixed upon his mouth, I could see him forming words but he might as well have been speaking the harsh tongue of the swamp dwellers for all I understood. "Let me get this straight. You have spent the last few months provoking conflict along the Melchium/Turelim border and arming them for their eventual clash because Raziel is bored?"

"That's the long and short of it yes. He and Rahab have been placing bets on the outcome." Azrael seemed to have no qualms with what he was saying. He remained utterly composed, regarding me with a frown as though it were I who were being unreasonable. "We haven't had a good war in centuries and as the years pass and Kain passes more and more responsibility to my master, and his brothers, they shape Nosgoth how they see fit. But now everything is so neat and tidy. Everything runs like clockwork and we need do so little. Besides, without a war every now and then we're in danger of stagnating. Do you know there are hundreds upon hundreds of fledglings in the land who have never seen a battle? Who have never wielded a sword? Why would they need to? There is nothing to fight and there never will be anything to fight. That's fine for the new generation who live only for themselves but for those of us who remember the day when building an empire actually required work, the tedium is driving us to distraction. So we planned a little war. I confess I did not expect anyone to note the Dumahim connection, but even if they did that would just pit them against Dumah. If on the far chance they discovered our involvement then Turel and Melchiah would move against us. Either way something would happen. Something to break this endless monotony."

He finished his little speech and I stared at him as though he were a stranger to my eyes. A sigh escaped him and he turned back to his table, "You look like you need some time. I suggest you return to the sanctuary, or tell what you have learned to Turel or Melchiah, either way someone is going to war." The faintest trace of a sad smile played on his lips, "I'll see you soon, Meg."

And like that he dismissed me. The first-born of the Razielim went back to his work as though I were not there. I felt like I wasn't. I felt struck dumb by his admissions. I must have left the chambers for I found myself some time later making the long, trudging walk back to the sanctuary of the clans. I would have to report back to my lord, I thought to myself, I would have to tell him what I had discovered and ask what he would have me do. But I found a strange, gnawing sensation in the very pit of my stomach at the thought of it. What words could I use to tell him that his sons were threatening war and death to each other because they were bored of the mighty gifts he had given them? How could I tell my great lord that his sons, those he had chosen to elevate to the very highest in the land, were bored by immortality?