Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Where Some Talk Too Much and Others Not at All

After Arthur's emotional upheaval and Alfred's frantic, reassuring comforts, they were quite for a spell.

They could hear soft echoes from the rest of the crew outside their 'prison', but mostly the only thing that accompanied their silence was Alfred's soft breaths. Arthur was not sure where to pick up after his hysterical confessions of nearly everything he'd been keeping locked up in his head since they landed in Zion. He had not meant to get so completely out of control, but Alfred had looked so bloody hurt and Arthur knew it was his fault and before he knew it, everything had spilled out between them, leaving a mess for them to sit in and try to wade through.

It was hard for Arthur to really put his thoughts and emotions into words. After the bandit attack, he had felt the same feeling of helplessness creep back under his skin, a feeling he had not really felt since the Nords. He had not been completely useless in the fight with the bandits, but in comparison to everyone else, how prepared they had been and how ready they were to make the hard choice when it mattered, he could not help but feel as if he fell short. Fell short not only in the fight but in everything that happened after.

Gilbert sharing that was the first time Alfred had directly killed anyone had not helped the turmoil of guilt wracking his head.

Arthur had spent most of his life being someone else's burden. Be it his parents, his brothers, or otherwise. And, eventually, it was always decided he wasn't worth the hassle. He was sure that played a part in why he was so desperate to break away from his family and change his own narrative. If he could be his own man, he would not be beholden to anyone and could be dependent on only himself. Be no one's burden. With his quiet shop and quiet life, he had gotten his wish in a way, and he had accepted the cost that left him isolated and alone.

And then his Voice was stolen, and he had been swept up into a grand adventure with a mad group of people who, despite all his efforts, he found himself caring for and wanting them to care about him in return. For them to find him useful, more than just loose baggage they had to carry along for the ride. He fought so damn hard against any suggestion that he could not do something, or needed help, because deep down, he worried they would realize what so many others had before them. That he was too much of a burden to deal with and they would leave him too.

In the wake of what happened with the bandits, what his inaction had caused others to do, what it had forced Alfred's hand to do, he could not help the dark, poisonous voice in the back of his mind that whispered all of this again. When he coupled that with the bone-crushing fear he had that Alfred was hurtling towards a deadly collision with Ivan, he found the only thing he could do was take off the pendant and retreat. Cowardly as that was.

But then, proving all of Arthur's assumptions wrong, the crew did not just leave him to rot on his own, ignore him and go about their mission as if he weren't there. No, instead, like the incredibly invasive, maddening, and caring group they were, they rallied together and forced Arthur's inaction aside. Even in the face of Alfred's anger and the embarrassment he felt in his complete loss of composure, he was profoundly grateful to them. For giving a shit.

He let Alfred rage and complain about being shut away inside the cave and formulated exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it so that his apology came across clear and sure. It had sounded logical in his head, and once Alfred started to calm down a little, he'd tried to start, and at the start, it had actually gone as planned. Then Alfred stared at him with so much hurt and angry confusion and before he knew it, he was a blubbering mess and everything he wanted to say, and plenty he did not, came tumbling out. In a way, he felt freer in getting everything off his chest, but mostly Arthur just felt humiliated and drained, practically wrapped up in Alfred and feeling as if he did not deserve it.

Also, out of all the ways he had ever imagined telling someone he loved them, letting it slip out in a crying, messy apology after being a total prat had not ranked high on his list.

Alfred was still stroking warm hands up and down his back in silent comfort and he near-silently mumbled nonsense about how everything was all right and that he was not going to leave him. All such lovely words that Arthur knew Alfred could not tie a promise to, no matter how much he wished he could. Still, it helped calm Arthur down to a semi-rational state again, where mortification and regret started to wriggle their way through into his head. He did not want to lift his head out of the soothing nook of Alfred's shoulder, because he knew once he did, they would have to start talking again, but it had to happen eventually. So, biting the bullet, Arthur lifted his head up and gave a wan quirk of his lips to Alfred as he settled out of his hold a bit. Alfred let him go but he kept a hand on Arthur's knee, gripping it tight.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get all— tumultuous. He let out a helpless sort of laugh to try and ease the awkward air left behind from his breakdown. He was sure it rang as hollow in Alfred's head as it did in his heart.

Alfred shrugged and his hand stayed tight around Arthur's knee. "That's ok, it was good I think—I mean, not the crying stuff because that sucked, but you actually said what was wrong. How the hell do you even function feeling all of that? I'd probably go crazy if I was that stressed out."

Arthur was tempted to take hold of the deflection and keep the conversation light, but he could not. They had already started down this path and Arthur was going to see it through and hope they would turn out all right at the other side. What he should have done from the start.

I should not have kept it all in—and I should not have taken off the pendant. I really am sorry, Alfred about—for everything.

"No, you shouldn't have," Alfred agreed. His face was soft, and so was his tone, and Arthur's hand instinctively drifted to rest atop Alfred's. "But I—I can admit I've been messed up since Mattie—I can get why you had trouble talking about this. I'm just so fucking angry all the time and I don't know how to stop. I've been having these awful dreams about Braginski and Mattie and now the spy and—I was mad you weren't talking to me but I get it and—"

Arthur leaned over and kissed Alfred softly, interrupting the rambling. None of that was your fault. I am sorry if I made you think it was but it's not. The spy was—it would have been too risky to keep him alive and we couldn't let him leave after he'd seen all of us. I just wish you hadn't had to do it. I wish I could have spared you that.

Alfred frowned but he looked a little lighter, his shoulders a little less burdened. "Well, I'm glad you didn't have to."

They were quiet for a spell before Alfred leaned in and took both of Arthur's hands in his own, resting his chin on top of them. "So, how long have you been worrying about us all dying once we find Braginski?"

Alfred—

"No, I want to know. Has it been since we docked in Herzliya? At sea? When?"

Alfred's eyes were so bloody earnest, and his hand was so irritatingly warm, Arthur did not have any chance against their pull. I have probably had thoughts about the subject since I first joined but—but I've actively worried about it since Vindobona.

"Hells, Artie, why didn't you say anything?"

Well, after the first few rounds of asking what the bleeding hell we were going to do after we found Ivan and getting the same 'kick his lily-ass' answer, I stopped mentioning it. It just grew from there I suppose—and got worse after you found out about your brother.

Alfred's face pulled down into a frown and he glanced away from Arthur's eyes. "I'm not going to do anything stupid, Arthur."

You cannot possibly promise that. You can do a lot of stupid things and think they are brilliant ideas or the-only-way ideas when you are angry and determined enough. Arthur let out a deep, silent breath and watched Alfred as he worked through Arthur's words and lifted his eyes back to his own.

Deep down, Arthur was sure Alfred acknowledged a least a little of what Arthur was saying as true—what had happened with the spy was proof enough. Arthur understood why Alfred had done that, yes, but he also knew that prior to learning about Matthew's kidnapping at Ivan's hand, Alfred would not have been the one to deal the killing blow. He might have even argued against it. He took a fortifying breath and lifted a hand to stroke down Alfred's cheek. I just worry that when you finally do confront Ivan, that you'll forget everything else but your anger and just—go.

They were quiet again. The lamp lit up the cave like warm honey and it made him feel more tired than usual; he rested back against the cave wall and watched Alfred, not saying anything further but not pressing for Alfred to start either. Just waiting. And then—

"So, um, you said that, you said you love me. Was that a real confession or was that just like some kind of spur of the moment thing?" Alfred's voice was soft, softer than usual.

Arthur crooked a half smile at him in response. It can't be both?

"Well, I mean yeah if you meant it but—did you mean it?" His voice was smaller than Arthur had ever heard from Alfred before, shy and hesitant. It made Arthur smile despite everything else.

I would not have said it if I didn't mean it.

Nothing about him and Alfred had been planned, and he had half-convinced himself that this would not happen when they first started up, and yet here they were. Arthur had fallen in love with the most unlikely of people in the most unlikely of circumstances. Arthur had been in what he thought of as love once before, but it had been a young, juvenile thing and had faded just as quickly as his naiveté.

What he had built with Alfred was wholly different and felt like it would consume him entirely if he let it. It made him feel all sorts of daft things, like being thankful he had been attacked by a lunatic and was a mute or that he had decided to join the possibly suicidal mission to fight Ivan, because without everything that had happened, he would never have found Alfred. And the fact that he loved Alfred as much as he did, and the fact that at any moment he could lose it and him to the danger their lives were wrapped up in, was terrifying just as it was exhilarating.

It registered to him through his musings that Alfred had been silent for a disturbingly long amount of time and was about to mention that generally the idea was that the person being told 'I love you' had to respond at some point. But then, Alfred flung himself into Arthur, and crashed them both to the ground, kissing him like it was their last moment on earth, messily and with a little too much teeth, but nauseatingly perfect just the same. Arthur only had a second to try and reciprocate before Alfred pulled off and stared down at him with the widest smile on his face. "You love me."

Arthur blinked and started to nod before he was cut off by another enthusiastic kiss. "You love me! That is—so fucking awesome and I love you too and I've never loved anyone before and this is—fuck! This is the best day ever and we can have sex now, right? Make-up sex and 'I love you' sex? That's how it always goes and who the hell knows when we'll have a chance at this again in Backwardsville, Byzantium and we have a whole cave and pillows and I'm sure there's oil because Francis is a total perv, and you love me! You, Arthur Kirkland, love me, Alfred Jones! You are the most awesome person ever, even though you've been a dick!"

That was a lot of information to process at once, but if Alfred had handled Arthur's emotional upheaval, Arthur could handle Alfred's. So, he smiled, could not help the silent laugh that bubbled out and echoed in Alfred's head, and pulled Alfred back down to press their lips back together. You are utterly ridiculous.

"Doesn't matter because you love me!"

I do, gods help me.

There was a sort of freedom in letting love guide him—he knew they would still need time to process all that they had shared, after everything that had come out between them, but there was an unspoken, unwavering acknowledgment that it would be okay. That they could and would come out stronger on the other side. Sure, there was always the possibility that they were still on a suicide mission and everything would go up in smoke once they reached Ruthenia, but Arthur decided that for once in his life, he was going to just enjoy what he had and the moment.

Because he loved Alfred and, astonishingly enough, Alfred loved him right back. So, he kissed and kissed Alfred until he felt out of breath and his skin felt stretched too thin across his bones and he smiled into Alfred's mouth whenever he had the chance.

He would have to remember to get Seychelles a fruit basket the next town they stopped in, because yes, make-up sex and I-love-you sex were both brilliant.

In the end, Matthew should have known that he would end up back here, locked in his cell with the half schemes and plans he'd had with Toris and Eduard broken apart and exposed as the pathetic attempts at rebellion they were.

He coughed and curled up tighter into a ball when the motion made his ribs ache. Ivan's followers had not been kind in their treatment of him and his cell was cold again, but the chill almost felt nice against his overheated skin. He wished he knew where Toris was and if he was all right—he hoped Raivis hadn't got caught up along with them as 'conspirators' and that Oksana would protect him. He hoped Asmin was all right too.

It hadn't been anyone's fault and they had been so careful—but when Eduard returned with Drago, sans Ivan, with no word as to when Ivan would return, no one had taken into consideration that maybe that had been deliberate. That Ivan had wanted to return quietly and without fanfare and peek at his 'family' without their guards up. It had been shitty luck that he had caught Eduard speaking with Toris about Asmin overhearing them in the lunch hall earlier and how she was looking into helping them escape. And now, now Ivan was making an example of them and Matthew was bruised, exhausted, and sick with worry of how Ivan's increased security may pose a threat for his brother. Or that Ivan would uproot everyone and move somewhere else, just when it was possible he'd been found out.

The only good thing of the entire fucked situation was that Eduard's revelation about Alfred and the crew was still under wraps. For the time being at least. Matthew didn't think their chances of that staying quiet were good if Ivan questioned Asmin. She may have been trustworthy but—but she was still a twelve-year-old girl, scared and not wanting more trouble than she may have already found herself in. He coughed again and turned so that he was facing the wall, trying to relieve the constant thrum of pain in his abdomen and ribs.

He tried not to flinch when he heard the cell door creak open and the distinctive thunk of Ivan's boots echoed after. He glared at the wall and refused to look around at him, even when the large man let out a saddened sigh and sat on the corner of Matthew's cot.

"I am disappointed, Matthew."

Ivan's words were slow and measured as they left his mouth, rehearsed and repeated. He'd probably given the same speech Matthew was about to get to Toris and Eduard by now. "Disappointed in you and what you have been trying to do. I understand that it is not your first choice to be here and do not fool myself into thinking your allegiance, however misguided, will swing from your brother to me. But, when you start to spread your poison to the others here, start to whisper in their ears about escape and what a mad man I am, well, I am forced to take measures, Matthew. Measures I take no pleasure in dolling out."

"That so? Well, your lackeys seemed to not mind all that much about taking those measures," Matthew bit out.

"Ah yes, well, not everyone is as compassionate as me."

"You're psychotic."

"Perhaps to you," Ivan answered mildly. "To others, I am a visionary. A leader. A prophet, perhaps. Forgive me if your biased opinion does not offend me."

Matthew wanted to punch him. "Where's Toris and Eduard? Did they get the same 'measures' as I did?"

Ivan hummed out a sound that served as a yes. "Such dissention cannot be tolerated. They have been confined and will be kept separate from each other, and from you, until such time I can deem your poison has been freed from their minds. I am afraid you are going to find yourself without much company for the remainder of your stay here. Besides from myself and Natalia that is, though I doubt that brings you any comfort."

Ivan patted his leg and Matthew curled further onto himself to move away.

Ivan made to leave, before he paused, outside the door. "I do have one question for you, however. I would like to know why you are trying so hard to get back to your brother, who has not thought of you for many months? If you only tried a little to learn what it is I am doing here, you would have every comfort and feeling of family that has been denied you since your brother left."

"Why do you care? Your feelings hurt I don't want to be part of your club?" Matthew heard Ivan mutter a low no before he was being turned around and propped up into a sitting position. He tried to jerk his head away from Ivan's hand but it only hit the wall before Ivan gripped his chin and forced their eyes to meet.

"I am curious."

Matthew took a few deep, slightly achy breaths and narrowed his eyes at Ivan. "Because he's my brother and no matter what shitty stuff he may do, to me or otherwise, he'll still be ten times the man that you are."

Ivan stared at him before letting go of his chin and rising to his feet; his face was expressionless, placid even, but his eyes were angry.

Jealous.

They burned in his otherwise impassive face and for the first time, Matthew thought he may have actually managed to unbalance Ivan Braginski.

He smirked up at Ivan, uncaring of the danger he was potentially wading into. He wanted to see that face crack and he finally found something that unbalanced him. "My brother's going to find you eventually. I don't know if that'll be a month from now or years from now and I don't know whether I'll be here to see it or not, but he's going to do it. And when he does, I don't think it'll matter how many dumb lackeys you throw at him before he's coming for you."

"You have blind faith in a man who cares more about his new conquest and his cock than his brother?"

Oh yeah, there was definitely anger there now. Ivan's façade cracked just a little and Matthew saw how he balled his fists tightly at his sides—he really didn't want to get hit with one of those fists, but at the same time he almost didn't care if he did.

"I have a hell of a lot more faith in him than I do in you and your crazy 'vision'," he volleyed back. And, as Matthew spat out the words, even in the wake of Ivan flinging his own anger at Alfred and Arthur Kirkland in his face, he found they were true, not just words to upset Ivan.

Sure, Alfred hadn't visited and maybe that was because he had finally found someone that made him care about something else other than his vendetta and avenging Matthew. But Matthew had never wanted revenge to consume his brother's life. He wanted Alfred to be happy. And maybe he was upset that he found that happiness outside of just him before, but not anymore. Alfred was going to find him, and if he had someone else to care about apart from Matthew, someone else who he may want to go home to, he'd be able to be happy. His smirk settled into a smile and he looked away from Ivan. He closed his eyes and let out a helpless peal of laughter when he heard the boots stomp away and his cell door slam shut.

It hurt to laugh, but Matthew couldn't stop because he felt hopeful, unbelievably, that everything was going to work out. Even if he was locked up as tight and his only allies were hurt and confined. Because Ivan Braginski had a weak point, had pride and vanity and whatever else you wanted to call it. And that could be exploited. Matthew grinned and laughed a little louder, hoping it echoed down through the mountain fortress.

The weather was mild in Columbiana at this time of year, as summer first started to wan.

Yao had grown so accustomed to the windy, brisk temperature of Spandow and now it felt odd to not have the breeze and its slightly briny taste from the rivers. He had spent too long in Spandow, had grown too comfortable there—it was easier for him to not think of any place to familiar, like home, because inevitably he would always end up leaving. He smiled ruefully and shook his head as he walked down the dirt path that led to the now empty home of the Jones family. Maybe it was his old age, but he was growing more sentimental and foolish as the seasons passed—or maybe his sentimentality was simply the result of having too many mistakes he'd made rapidly spiraling out of control.

It didn't really matter, in the end, he supposed.

He came to a stop in front of the large, white-washed home that looked surprisingly well kept for being vacant and rested his hands alongside the weather-worn fence that surrounded the property. He had felt to pull to come to here and see for himself if the rumors his little birds told him were true. He hadn't needed to ask around very much to discover that the rumors weren't lying—that Ivan had come and kidnapped Matthew Jones some months' past. The people from the Jones' hometown had loved and admired all the good the two Talentborn boys had done for their community and they felt their absence more acutely than most.

"Excuse me, sir, are you looking for Alfie or Mattie?" Yao blinked and turned his gaze away from the house and his wandering thoughts and focused on a dark-skinned boy who was looking up at him with wide eyes.

Yao smiled gently, walked over closer to where the boy stood behind his own fence, and crouched down so he was at eye level with the boy. "In a way—I'm a friend of Alfred's. I have helped him and the people he sails with on their adventures from time to time. My name is Yao, what's yours?"

"Sebastian," the boy answered. He was not shy but he also wasn't foolish—he watched Yao with alert, wary eyes and hadn't left the safety of his yard, which belonged to the house neighboring the Jones home. "Alfie hasn't been home in a long time and Mattie got kidnapped. He got kidnapped by the bad man, the one Alfie went looking for after Mattie got attacked that first time."

"Ah yes, unfortunately I know all too well about Alfred's quest and about the 'bad man'," Yao said. He felt the familiar tug of guilt at the mention of Ivan Braginski. "Tell me, Sebastian, did you see what happened to Matthew Jones? You seem to be extremely well informed."

Sebastian scowled and nodded. "Mattie saved me—the bad man came, and he was going to take me. Everyone knows the bad man steals away kids and takes away their souls and he was gonna do that to me. But Mattie stopped him, he told Ivan to take him instead and the bad man did. No one's seen Mattie since and Alfie's still gone—the whole town wanted to send Alfie something to let him know what had happened, but no one knew where he was."

Yao nodded and he tried to smile encouragingly at the boy, whose expression had grown more crestfallen as he told Yao what had happened. "Well, I'm very sorry that happened to you, Sebastian, but I can assure you that Alfred has already been told what happened to his brother and he will rescue him from the bad man. He'll bring him back home soon, I'm sure of it."

Sebastian's face brightened a little in hope that only a child could possess, and he nodded. "You're right, Mr. Yao. Alfie's a hero, he'll get Mattie back and bring him home. Are you gonna help him too?"

Yao straightened and tried to keep the grimace he felt from overtaking the smile still on his face. "I certainly intend to try, Sebastian."

Sebastian grinned toothily up at him. "Good! My mama and papa and I have been making sure their house stays clean and everything so it's ready for them when they come home!"

Yao nodded and glanced back at the house before focusing on Sebastian again. "That's very kind of your family—I was hoping to peek inside and grab something of Matthew's, if that's all right with you."

"Why do you need something of Mattie's?"

"Because I need something of his to focus on, something I can connect magic with, in order to track him down."

Sebastian's eyes went wide. "You're a sorcerer?"

"From time to time," Yao smiled and leaned down again. "I promise I'll give whatever I take back to Matthew—it would make it much easier to help both Matthew and Alfred."

Sebastian nodded before glancing back at his own home. "Let me go get my mama, you can ask her since she has the key. Stay here!"

The boy ran back to his house and Yao straightened up, watching the boy go with a small, wistful smile on his face as he went.

Yao had always loved children and had hoped for a large family when he'd been a younger man—everything had changed when he came to understand he was a vessel for magic, and the family he had wanted was no longer an option. When the Balance granted its sorcerers longevity in order to keep order, having a family was no longer a practical option, not when they would live for centuries beyond their grandchildren's grandchildren. Yao had hoped to foster a similar feel between himself and his apprentices like one would between a father and son, or between brothers—but all that had served to do was blind him and unleash evil on the world.

Ivan Braginski had been special. He had always been special.

When Yao had found him and taken him in to train his unique and powerful Talentborn, he had treated the boy as his own family. Ivan had been an orphan and had lived in horrible conditions for most of his young life, and he looked to Yao as a savior, as a blessed man who had plucked him from certain death and given him a family again. It had been so easy to love the boy and Yao had, more so than his other apprentices—most of whom were gone now, Ivan's first victims in his scheme to disrupt and dismantle the Balance. The only one Yao had left was Kiku Honda.

Kiku, who had met Ivan when he was no longer a young man or Yao's apprentice, when he came to visit with Yao. Kiku, who had tried to warn Yao on multiple occasions how unbalanced Ivan was and that he was not the same boy he had known. Kiku, who had told how Yao was foolish to try and warp the Balance with Ivan for his own goals. Kiku, who now despised him for what he'd done.

Yao's vision had never been Ivan's, but he could admit that it was his own meddling and pontificating on changing life for the betterment of the world through the Balance that had planted the seeds for Ivan's vision. He had wanted to tip the scale, so to speak. He had wanted to shift the Balance to a more positive spectrum so there would be less darkness in the world. He had thought Ivan's very Talent to take in and store magic and energy would allow him to do so.

He had been trying to do good, but he did not take into account that Ivan would grow to view the Balance as unjust, as stingy and hateful towards him and his countrymen. What storing the vast amounts of magic and energy Yao gave him would do to his mind. What Yao had refused to acknowledge Ivan had become.

He had left his apprentices in Ivan's care as he left for a brief, annual retreat, one that he took upon the solstices each summer and winter, the task he'd asked Ivan to practice and master in his absence had been to transfer the magic and energy Yao kept in precious stones to a piece of damaged earth, to try to create life. Yao had known whatever change Ivan created wouldn't be permanent, but he'd thought it would be a good way to test the limits of what the Balance held as unchangeable and what it would allow to change.

Ivan though he'd—he'd grown obsessed with forcing the change to be permanent. Soon enough, he'd funneled not only the energy and magic that Yao kept stored for him to use, but also the energy and magic from his other apprentices as well until all that was left were withered husks for Kiku to return home that evening. Kiku had tried to stop Ivan, but had his magic torn from him as a result—Yao had barely been able to save him when he arrived home to the massacre.

Ivan had fled in the wake of his destruction of Yao's apprentices. When Yao had caught up to him, he had demanded to know why he'd killed all of his fellowship magic wielders, both Talentborn and sorcerer alike, why he had gone so far beyond the task Yao had set for him and tried to perverse the Balance. Ivan had ranted about how Yao was weak, how he didn't have the courage or conviction to do what had to be done in order to save the world from the Balance. He had attacked Yao and together their dueling magic had nearly destroyed a nearby village before he had muttered one last warning to Yao and rocketed away.

Ivan taught himself that stealing Talents took the same effort as stealing energy and life-force and became a new menace upon the world a few decades later. Those last words though, Yao would remember that warning for the rest of his days.

"I will ruin this world and its false Balance, Master Yao, ruin it so that a new world free from the Balance can be born. I will burn it all if I must."

"Mr. Yao! Mr. Yao, my mama said that she'll be right out to let you into Alfie and Mattie's house!"

Yao blinked and found himself back in the present and away from the painful memories of Ivan's crazed, ravaged eyes. He looked down at Sebastian who was looking at him in concern. "You ok, Mr. Yao? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Yao couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped him at the boy's choice of words. "That is certainly one way to put it, Sebastian. I thank you for your concern, but I am fine, just a little lost in my own head. I'll wait here for your mother and thank you for speaking to her—I'm sure I'll be able to help Matthew and Alfred both because of the help you've given me today."

Sebastian beamed at him and Yao found himself wishing fervently that he would be able to keep the promise to the little boy, that he would be able to help Matthew, and maybe even Alfred too. But there were so many uncertainties and so many unknown factors and forces at play that he didn't know if he would be able to. Ivan had grown so powerful and was so focused on destroying the Balance that Yao doubted most of his efforts would do anything to hinder him. The Fey had started to take matters into their own hands as well and gods only knew what the consequences of those actions would be.

And perhaps most interestingly of all, the Balance had given the world Arthur Kirkland. Whether in direct response or as the natural foil to Ivan, Yao could not say, but he had plenty of suspicions. Yao had some idea how he would play into the conflict as a companion of Alfred's, as a stronger Talentborn than Ivan, and as a part of his Fey contract. Everything was so muddled and intertwined; it was hard to pick out any one clear path that the world would take.

He could always hope, though. It was certainly something he'd gotten very good over the years.

Getting some answers now - some. Also, poor, poor Mattie, boy can't catch a break.

Next update 6/6/2021 - double weekend update :)