Chapter Eight: Sunthraze matters… sort of

Note: I'm pretty sure I'm going to re-write the intro with an action scene featuring where the Bloodknights are now, before looking into the past. Look forward to it!

Ranger-General Sylvanas walked to the podium, even as the people shouted their disapproval. There were some cheers, yes. That was because word Sylvanas was responsible for releasing the "Double Sunthraze" was spreading. The man crossed twice, first at the Garrison for defending his own land, and second, at the Sunspire Keep. Sunthraze had been accused of being a spy and held there for weeks when he was so obviously innocent. And there were many more rumors as to how it had even happened it the first place. Some vengeful, underpaid royal advisor? A presumed family vendetta held by the Sunstriders against the Sunthrazes, whoever they were? As far as anyone knew, commoner or aristocrat, the Sunthtrazes had been evicted from court ages ago, probably. In the end, on King Anasterian's orders (but everyone knew it could have only been after Sylvanas strongly and vehemently suggested it to him), Sylvanas was finally going to address the people and set the record straight.

Sylvanas stood at the head of the long rampart decorated in crimson and gold bunting for Prince Kael'thas' graduation victory over the Humans in Dalaran, and his much anticipated return to his Highborne home. The long stone ramp was also flanked by royal guardians holding high their man-sized phoenix shields. If all that radiated out into a jaded citizenry, exhausted consternation on their faces, then Sylvanas was the very star shining in their eyes, forcing them to face what was real, what was still so possible about Silvermoon: together, king or servant, high, low, poor, all furious, they were the phoenix. Falling together at times, but also rising up again together. That was as beautiful as Sylvanas decided to be.

She wore gleaming silver ceremonial armor, decorated with gold. Sylvanas then reached for the podium with one hand and took her hood down with the other. She needed to be seen, all of her body, every facial expression. And she would stand in the blinding sun as well in order to do that, fine. This was a speech the whole of the Eastern Kingdoms would also hear, she knew. Prince Arthas with them. He was about to see her name, depictions of her body in every single newspaper. Good. Take that image with you to Jaina, if you even can…

At home, in her element, with full support of the royal family and at her best like this, Sylvanas was undeniably glamorous. It was not just her confidence in all that she had accomplished in Quel'thalas, especially in Silvermoon City. It was how she could style herself while free of the Humans and their scrutinizing political machine, often bent against 'the high airs of the Highborne.' Today, Sylvanas wore diamonds for… him… that she could never wear in Stormwind without being accused of making light of the current crisis with the Plague. However, in Quel'thalas, diamonds were known as the Sun's gift to Her followers so that they might know Her glorious blessing of merciful Light no matter the weather, no matter the hour. Around Sylvanas' neck, a gold collar dropped a ruby pendant above her cleavage. Gold, and rubies, these both evoked the fiery courage of mother Sun. And as Sylvanas breathed, she sweated lightly, and she made no attempt to wipe it away, as if she was no different than any brave, oiled sacrifice in the ancient cult. Or, the Sun's greatest priestess—the educated would recognize the diamonds, gold, the ruby, the sweat, all those powerful symbols, and the ignorant could never miss it. This day, this very hour, it was hers. And it was soon going to be her sun.

Her sun. The Sun had been calling her… No, Sylvanas had really known it while in Stormwind at the convocation, while she lay in his arms, on that night. That the Sun and stars had been calling to her. Back in Stormwind, it had only been Arthas' suggestion. Perhaps he was even angry, and halfway meant it. And so she had only halfway pledged herself to such a fast, foolish romantic offer, perhaps… But now, it seemed very intelligent and practical, indeed. A real possibility. A union between the heir to the land on the very Thalassian border that she herself protected and knew intimately. So Sylvanas would show Arthas how capable, how wonderful she could be as an equal, a strategist, his queen. Today, Sylvanas would practice. And he would know she was doing it, for him. Even if she couldn't write him or really say what was forbidden, what could easily be spied upon and handed over to enemies in Silvermoon.

It was a chance, a destiny with him, the prince of Lordaeron, that was too good to miss. Sylvanas decided that she would be a fool not to summon down every Highborne blessing, protect against every Human superstition, while she made her move now and she claimed it!

The rumors of Sylvanas' beauty on this day, her beauty in this moment, her capacity to be so very much more than just the Ranger-General to the Highborne, and to the Humans, their neighbors who were suffering and needed so much help if only she could give it… that she was the better woman than so-called 'Princess Jaina', that message would go on for miles, wouldn't it? Put Jaina out of the papers, lift up Sylvanas, and send it across all the Eastern Kingdoms!

Oh yes, even… to him.

Sylvanas gathered her racing, and she admitted to herself, very jealous thoughts, then exhaled. This speech was going to be about right and wrong in Silvermoon, yes, but Sylvanas also intended it to be a sort of… opened love letter. She looked up, full of guile. More than ready.

"I am Sylvanas," she began. She did hear their jeers raising up again, despite how she tried to appear to them. Sylvanas decided to go on and feed into it, "I am not Anasterian," now they really indulged in how they felt about their king, cussing and shouting "I am not Thrall…"

That perhaps sealed it. The Highborne, like many of the Alliance, had heard of Thrall's exploits just beginning in Kalimdor across the sea. They practically crowed at the thought of the green Orc shaman.

"…I am not Vol'jin."

And they surely screamed about that, the high chief of the meddlesome Trolls.

Now some names they might not hate, "I am not King Terenas, or King Wrynn, or even… the mighty," she smoothed hand up the wooden side of the podium, "Prince Arthas Menethil. No, ladies, and gentlemen. People of Silvermoon. I am Sylvanas."

Then, she raised her voice, "I am a daughter of this enchanted land. I was raised, drinking from a glistening river that so many of you also drank from. So many diamonds down our throats… I breathe air simmering with arcane energy. My gaze is always lifted by the golden slice ever on the ruby horizon, our Sunwell. My muscles were made strong drawing bows hewn by all our ancestors, to fight and protect all of us, every Highborne man, woman, and child—my pain is your pain."

They had been cheering for all these patriotic things. You see, she had brought them around. She embodied it fully. Now, hush. They could not tell what she was going to do after that.

Sylvanas outstretched her arms, hung back from the podium some, "My blood, it is your blood too, brothers and sisters. Your Sunthraze…"

She let them shout his name, wave their signs, make their oaths against the Sunstriders, the Farstriders, the Sunspire itself and all who had put him down.

"Your Sunthraze, is my Sunthraze. And he matters today, he matters tomorrow… I shall never forget him!"

They screamed their approval.

When it ebbed enough, "And who can forget a handsome guy like that anyway? No. Never again."

Some shocked laughter. Again, waiting…

"I promise you, my people, that I will hound the Farstriders until they are better and never treat a prisoner like that again…"

It was during this time that the prison carriage was deployed from the back entrance of the keep. The crowds were mostly cleared from those roads.

"I will do everything that I can for Quel'thalas, from the edge of the Sunwell, to the brink of Eversong and the Human lands, especially at this time…"

More cheering. The ones who were confused or objected to the mention of the Plague were swallowed up by the ones so focused on beautiful Sylvanas and her beautiful words.

While in the carriage, Sunthraze saw all the people, their backs to them, facing the steps of the Sunspire, the bunting and podium set up very fast for Sylvanas' great moment. He saw the signs with his name on them, for the first time. There were so many.

"And at last I promise you—you have my word as the Ranger-General—that a new era of peace and prosperity is coming to all in this land, if I have to watch over it with bow drawn, reign over it myself. Let me and my strengthened Farstriders continue to protect you and our borders, and I promise, this is what I will do for you."

The crowd roared their approval.

Britecleff and Tempest sat in the carriage facing Sunthraze. Pyorin sat beside him, arm on the slim window ledge.

"I had heard…" Sunthraze confided to his captors. Or, they were once his captors. He wasn't sure what they were to him, now, "But I didn't know. All these people can't be for me?"

"Because they're not for you," Pyorin turned from the sunny window as more people, more buildings went past. "They're for every single man who struggled the way that you did, who came before you."

Britecleff amended that, "And not just prisoners, either. Every single person who ever got lost in the system at the Garrison or in Silvermoon. People abused by the aristocracy, or people that the aristocracy knew were being abused but even they were powerless to save. Like your family, who had their titles stripped away and their land taken for no real reason at all." Britecleff was embarrassed when Sunthraze looked at him, surprised, "…Isn't that what happened?"

Sunthraze's eyes drifted from the bright window to the dark corners inside the carriage, "I don't know what happened." He smoothed hands down his legs, asked awkwardly, "So, does Sylvanas' speech mean, like, you know-are we getting everything back?"

Pyorin frowned, "With Anasterian on the throne? With the Convocation of Silvermoon filled with the snootiest of nobles? I wouldn't hold my breath."

Britecleff finished explaining, "Everyone, aristocrats and commoners, everybody seems to be on common ground now, because of what happened to you. That's what matters. And yes, you can take some credit, however jealous Pyorin obviously is."

"Jealous!"

"Quiet, Pyorin. Sunthraze, you handled yourself well during the very worst of it. Other men don't have the character for that. Trust me, I know."

"Wait, are you still talking about me?"

"Pyorin—not every comment I make is about you." Britecleff furrowed his brow.

Then, Tempest went, "Yeah, Pyro. The world and, especially, all its women, don't revolve around you."

Sunthraze raised a hand, determined to get back on the real topic, "You all sound like you're on my side? I must be going crazy."

"Well…" Tempest rolled her eyes and smiled, "You're the one who showed which side to stand on."

Britecleff arched his fingers before a solemn mouth, "I think all of the Farstriders are on your side by now. Sylvanas' speech is also meant to send the little rats among our ranks scurrying back to their hiding places. We won't have to put up with the likes of Clerk Blaize's antics anymore. Hopefully."

Pyorin nodded, "Hrmph. And they'll be changing the arrest laws too, no doubt. It'll all change. We'll all have to get re-trained."

Britecleff shook his head, slowly, "Sunthraze, this is really because you resisted. It was your dignity, your great dignity… Your insistence on your innocence. It made an impression on Tempest, then on me… Clearly, on Pyorin too, when he met with you alone… we'll be talking about that later by the way, Pyorin."

Pyorin glanced back outside.

"But I do hear even Queen Celestia became concerned about you. There is a family connection, I know, but Celestia shouldn't have been moved, her heart is the iciest of hearts, possibly." Britecleff looked at Sunthraze, amazed, "Sylvanas came back and gave Anasterian a hard time about letting Sorn have you down in the Keep—but in the end, only Celestia could have pushed Anasterian from the other side, to make it happen."

Pyorin nodded along, "Though, Lord Mageblade and his legal threats had a part to play, too."

Britecleff rolled a hand, annoyed, "Yeah, but that's all still Celestia—Anasterian doesn't care about that, but Celestia does. In some ways, and don't quote me on this, Celestia is cleverer than him. But she chose to stick her neck out and push Anasterian because of Sunthraze and his remarkable passive resistance." Britecleff smirked at Sunthraze, "And you keep trying to tell me you're not a noble and it doesn't run in the family. Lord Sunthraze Sunthraze, after all this, don't make me call you a damned liar."

"No, sir."

"Sylvanas looked so amazing…" Pyorin mused.

"Couldn't hold that in, could you?" Tempest got on him.

"She was stunning," Went Britecleff.

"Super sexy," Sunthraze whispered.

"Well, why the hell not?" Tempest shrugged, "…I'd do her."

Britecleff squeezed his eyes shut and laughed.

Pyorin looked annoyed.

"Woah. Okay…" Sunthraze looked uncomfortable.

Pyorin informed him, "Tempest is bi, Sunthraze."

"Is she?!"

"Um, I'm sitting right here."

Britecleff found his voice again, "I don't think this is a subject to go on and on about, in front of your commanding officer. Let's just… get him home in one piece."

"Wait. So is Sylvanas…?"

Britecleff raised his hand so that there would be no more comments, "I'm sure that's none of your business, Sunthraze. Nor is it any of ours. Or any man she may or may not be presently involved with."

Tempest grinned, "Though, as radiant as she was today, I'm sure suitors will be coming out of woodwork, if there isn't someone already. I wonder why she went to all that trouble. She's never really done that before? I mean, at a few royal balls, galas and things, I saw her dressed up."

"Well, she did us proud," Britecleff tried to end the discussion of Sylvanas' love life again.

"I bet she met someone in Stormwind!" Pyorin opened his hand, waggled fingers in Tempest's direction. "Betting pool? So who's on it… Uther? Rhonin? Uh… well, not Arthas."

Tempest frowned, "Yeah, Arthas is totally out. He's super-engaged to Jaina still, according to every paper and celebrity mag I've read, which is annoying." She held on suddenly, when the carriage went over a bump in the road, "Okay, well, I hear he's really something, though. Like, if you get to know him? Tall, handsome, charming in his own way… I guess he's not weird, actually. He just has that, you know, broody bad boy vibe, which you normally wouldn't expect from a paladin."

Britecleff looked uncomfortable that they were discussing Prince Arthas at all, "Why don't we talk about our own prince for a change." Then, he eyed Tempest and Pyorin angrily, "Positively, for once."

Pyorin wedged a small scratch pad out of his boot, and pulled a pencil from the binding. He began writing down names, noting the odds of each man in the Sylvanas suitor showdown, (and that was the title he gave the list, by the way) like they were horses in a race, "Tempest, that's a good point. I'll put Arthas down as a maybe… fresh out of the gate, fed up on his oats…"

Tempest sang, "Don't forget determined and desperate! That's what all the celeb mags like to say."

"Got it. And also a little, how-dya-call-it when horses kind of suck? …Lame."

Sunthraze raised his eyebrows, "Uh, Britecleff… isn't this exactly the kind of thing Sylvanas is making her speech about, like right now? Taking this Farstrider gig far more seriously?"

"Good point. Pyorin. Give it here."

"Aw…"

"Thanks, m'lord." Britecleff smirked at Sunthraze, "You know, I'm going to recruit you so hard, Sunthraze, it isn't funny. You are such a good man, it's killing me. It comes so naturally to you, doesn't it? The Farstriders need that so badly."

"No. And can you make that sound somehow… less sexual?"

Tempest brightened, "Ooh, man-crush. It's happening right now before my face, so rare in nature. So exciting!"

The rest of the ride went a bit like that, everyone taking shots at everyone else. Like real friends do. Unfortunately.

Sunthraze didn't want them to drop him off directly in front of his house, and thankfully, neither did Britecleff.

Britecleff knocked on the side of the carriage, for them to stop behind the gated field. Funnily enough, it was about where they had apprehended Sunthraze in the first place. Britecleff didn't seem to notice that, though. It made Sunthraze cringe, Pyorin smirk, and Tempest cross her long legs.

"Remember, this isn't exactly goodbye, Sunthraze. We'll also make contact with you for… another question we need to ask you. Don't contact us. There are some things we need to get in place, first."

Sunthraze sucked in a breath, "On pain of my family's land, and everything I've ever touched, loved or held dear including my balls being seized if I talk about any of that stuff from my briefing?" Sunthraze exhaled, sounded bored, "Sure, should be a fun time." Sunthraze put his hand on the door.

"This next part is totally voluntary, but I am confident you are the kind of man who wants to make a difference, who will put his real self into it. It isn't something I can force out of you. You see, I want to earn your trust back, Sunthraze… I'll tell you more once I know more, myself. Just, be assured that it really is nothing for you to worry about. Just… a favor. With something sensitive."

"Look, if you're hitting on me, Britecleff, could you just come out and say it?"

"What the-?!"

"I know." Pyorin looked nonplussed, "He's played that little trick on me, too." Pyorin mumbled, "One would think he's covering for something, himself…"

Sunthraze looked pretty proud of himself for unseating Britecleff, finally. Then, the carriage door opened from the other side. In fact, someone had yanked it open, and Sunthraze was unseated. He almost fell clear out of the carriage.

A woman with very red hair, streaks of gray in it, in the many rollers she had in it, actually, and, I kid-you-not, a rolling pin in her other hand, shuffled away at the last minute before Sunthraze hit the ground. The makeup around her eyes looked like it had somehow melted, a bit. A fresh cigarette was wedged behind her long ear and she reeked of some kind of alcohol. Possibly whatever moonshine they made at the Sunthraze home.

"…the hell have you been? What kinda trouble have you been startin' up, Sunthraze! Do you know what I had to read in the papers about you?"

"Ma! I was just—"

"You get in that house!" She pointed with the rolling pin, "And all them chores have been pilin' up like crazy." She was in a night dress. She waddled up the road in her house shoes before finally taking them off to chase her son up the street properly. Waving the rolling pin the whole way up the road.

Britecleff pulled the door shut, "Ho gods… disinheriting people really does change them. I think…" Britecleff tried harder, and harder not to laugh. But then, he failed, "That was Lady Sunthraze! His mother."

Pyorin burst out into wild laughter, "After all those jokes he made about us, that was so, so worth it!"

Tempest sighed with disappointment and pounded a fist against the carriage wall. "Drive on…"

And once they were fully down the road, "…She must have been worried sick. You two are both complete assholes, you know that, right?"

A Farstrider messenger arrived at the farmhouse that same afternoon. He wouldn't give Britecleff's invitation to the woman of the house, it would only be handed off to Sunthraze. Sunthraze hid in the nearest closet and pried it open before his mother could snatch it back.

Meet us at the Garrison, 7 o'clock, to discuss your next assignment. Supper will be provided. Looking forward to your bright future with the Farstriders.

-Britecleff

As if that wasn't enough, Sunthraze's mother teased him about the letter that evening as he washed the dishes. And there were a lot of dishes.

"Yes, Ma, I do have an invitation to go and see that Commander Britecleff, I mentioned."

"But aren't you going to be late?" she was yelling from the other room, and probably on the couch. Sunthraze could smell her cigarette going again.

"I don't want you to worry, though, Ma. I'm not in trouble, and it isn't… mandatory, anyway. So, you know… I'm not going."

"Not mandatory? I don't believe you. It's probably from that girl, right? That's why you don't want me to go. Soon as the lights go out, you'll be running to go catch her and Sun knows what else… I know she's the one who really sent you that letter."

"Yes, Ma. From the pretty girl in the carriage. Sure. I have a love life after being in jail for weeks, who'da thought. No, obviously, it's not from her."

"We don't have money, in this family, for you to spend on fast women."

Sunthraze flushed with embarrassment. He picked up a pan, scrubbed it even harder.

"…Your children would come out as midgets, anyway, you're so short."

"I didn't know I was even making babies with this… random stranger, Mom! And, I am not short. Plus, anyway… she's a Farstrider. Or had you forgotten that some of the ways we survive on this farm, in this whole village, are on the wrong side of the law? Tempest is too dangerous. Now that I'm back home, and my head is clear… I just want all of that stuff to be over. It's too dangerous for me to go and meet with her commander and too dangerous for me to… well, I don't want to spend time with her anyway, she does have a so-called boyfriend, and why would I be so stupid?"

In the livingroom, Sunthraze's mother sank into the old couch and tossed a dull pink shawl over her shoulders. He could just barely see her through the doorway from the kitchen. Sunthraze couldn't lean all the way back and see, as his hands were covered in grease and soap suds, but they were used to shouting at one another through the house.

"Well…" and his mother raised her voice still further, "All Farstriders know that the… homesteaders and farmers in this neck of the woods, they do some moonshine business. It happens. They wouldn't be surprised to know we have a hand in it, too. You know, Suntouched Special Reserve started out as bootlegged stuff."

"That's ridiculous," Sunthraze stacked one plate, reached for another one.

"S'true. Only thing…" she sighed and snuggled deeper into the couch. But it was hard and threadbare and it couldn't give anyone very much comfort anymore, "A rich, ancient family line was doing it, so people just looked the other way. You can buy anything in Silvermoon. Well, in the Sunspire. That's even more true today than when you daddy was alive. When we were both courtiers."

Sunthraze stopped washing dishes.

His mother was falling asleep, he could tell. And she always did around this time, before the fireplace, after dinner.

It was harder to just go on now and not say it. Really, Sunthraze should have said it before. That morning, or yesterday. He thought of his father's face. Or, the man he believed was his father. Then, Sunthraze willed himself to see the silver edge of the wash basin, the white soap studs instead. He made himself stick his hands back in. And then, he remembered there were sharp knives still down at the bottom.

"Don't slit your wrist, now. I know that trashy girl's still on your mind," His mother's sense of humor was god-awful.

Sunthraze grimaced, hearing her say that.

"…And your life's not that much of a wreck. Yet."

"Mom…" he groaned.

"…And I'm sure you'll get your leg over that silly Farstrider bint soon enough."

"Mom!" Sunthraze flared next, thoroughly embarrassed.

She sat up and leaned over the back of the couch. Now their eyes finally met. Hers were green-blue. Deep and smokey, like raw gems. It wasn't ever hard for Sunthraze to imagine his father falling in love with her, despite her horrific personality.

Father.

Sunthraze really didn't want to finish the dishes.

"And that girl's another redhead. So sun and all the magics help us."

" 'The magics?' Really? Also, while we're talking about weird things you say and do… could you not run out of the house in rollers and large blunt kitchen objects in front of my friends, like ever again? It wouldn't have been so bad except that you don't dress like that, actually, and you only did it to embarrass the crap out of me in front of the Farstriders!"

"Stay on topic. You heard what I said? This is a time to stay focused on this ranch and what we need to take care of. Don't let anything distract you, no 'Sunthraze Matters' signs, no speeches, no women. Because this is all temporary, son. It's all temporary… it's not good attention, believe me. You'll be right back in a jail cell if you're not careful, that's my point. I need to keep you humble." Sunthraze watched her slide back down into the couch. Then, he wanted to go and sit by her on the couch too, for the first time in a long time.

"…You finish the dishes?" She slyly asked Sunthraze when he came into the room.

Sunthraze sat, then turned slightly on the couch, faced his mother. She had curled her whole body, almost, under the threadbare shawl. If she was a more useful sort of farmer's widow, perhaps she would have knitted something better, or made a warm quilt from the cloth scraps they had around. Sunthraze thought about Britecleff again, and what he said. He nor his mother were made for this kind of life.

Sunthraze had an uncomfortable epiphany, then. Yes, his mother had raised him into it and taught him to survive, somehow. And, she encouraged him when she could. But his mother hated being on that farm as much as he did. Perhaps she always loathed their fate. She could never let him know that, though. Her own son. He had to have some kind of chance, some kind of peace in his life.

Growing up made these kinds of revelations possible.

Sunthraze had already thought through several ways of asking. In the end, he knew that he couldn't, "Is King Anasterian my father? Are Prince Kael'thas and I half-brothers or something?" then, Sunthraze freaked out, "Am I the secret heir to the throne!"

"What? Gods, no!"

And her shamed, shocked reaction also proved that the posthumous Sunthraze was not his father, either. It was so defiantly implied, that it was someone else, if not him. All of it in her tone.

Sunthraze's mother read him as clearly as he read her, then. They were both related, and accustomed to each other, after all. Rather than say more, she swaddled herself tighter under the cloak.

She frowned, "Who finally told you? That… Abby Silverdare? That gossip… Or was it the blacksmith? It's only because I owe him a little money, you know. Because the plow broke…"

Sunthraze didn't answer.

"Wasn't it one of them?!" his mother became frantic, "Well, if not the neighbors… of course they wouldn't. I guess they were kind enough not to, all this time. Well? Who else!"

Sunthraze gave her a look, "An officer of the law. With access to family records. Commander Brightcleff, it seems, knows our whole family history, and then some. So don't even try to wriggle out of it, not one inch of it. But if I'm not related, then why would Queen Celestia be so worried about me?"

"She used to be my friend too, and a friend of your father's."

"Yours, too!"

Just as fast, "You shouldn't worry about it, Sunthraze."

Sunthraze looked at his hands, dripping soap suds and water on the floor. Why didn't he take the time to wipe them off? He must have been so nervous, coming to the couch.

"Sunthraze? Son?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Your father and I both loved you. We were a proper family, a proper one. He asked for us back. He wanted us back, so don't you see?"

"…Back?"

"He…"

Sunthraze put hands on his knees, mouth agape with the offense he was feeling, "When were we ever not with my father? Or, do I call him… Lord Sunthraze?"

"Lord Sunthraze is your father. And don't you ever forget that. Aren't you proud of where you come from? You be proud, and don't you ever give me any lip about it."

"You said, 'he wanted us back,' when did he not want us? He didn't want us in the house? On the old estate?"

His mother set her jaw tight.

"You were loved."

"We were rejected! Further proof… was that because of the affair? My father threw us both out back then? Onto the street!"

"It was complicated, but he found his way in the end. He was such a good man. He forgave that far."

"The real Lord Sunthraze, whoever he is—he was happy for us to live on the streets! For how long?"

"It doesn't matter, I refuse to tell you."

"So it was a long time, then."

"Sunthraze, stop it. Stop it right now," Her voice suddenly broke. She swallowed, then got up, to pace.

"…You were two years old. You wouldn't even remember that. It was supposed to never come up."

Sunthraze went to bury his face in his hands, but they were still slick with soap. He stopped at the last moment and cussed himself.

"Don't you speak to me that way!"

"I wasn't even-I won't speak to you at all!" Sunthraze went back to the kitchen, the dishes.

And so they didn't speak again that evening. And Sunthraze did forget about the meeting at the Garrison.

Hours later, there was a knock on the front door. And then, there were several knocks on the front door.

Commander Britecleff gave Tempest an annoyed look while they all waited on the Sunthraze doorstep for someone to answer.

Britecleff looked at her, annoyed, "I thought he was your new boy-toy, Tempest. So all that seku training amounted to nothing."

"Sekuu, or seduction interrogation, as you know, Britecleff, is an art. I didn't have enough time to do it properly…"

"If this is a round about way to ask me for leave so you can pursue him…"

"No, no. Nothing like that." But then, Tempest turned around and gave Pyorin a look, "I'm just saying, you know how some men are. Easy come, easy go." But she resumed smiling for some reason. Too much.

Pyorin rested a hand on the pommel of the sword at his hip, "Yes. Men like that will always disappoint you."

"Men like what?"

"I don't have anything against him, really. Like you all keep implying. But you know the type… that. Skinny. Obnoxious. Fancy tattoos. Good… hair."

"Oh, he's soo gorgeous. Sometimes, I can't wait to squeeze him!"

Pyorin huffed, "You're just busy trying to make me jealous. Aren't you? It isn't going to work. And, you're going to hurt that poor kid in the process."

Commander Britecleff knocked again, but then he got distracted again.

He asked them, "Why are you guys like this? This is exactly the wrong time to be at odds. Remember when you two first got together and I said I wasn't your daddy, but I did expect you to handle it professionally? This is not professionally. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you about your… fraternizing."

"She wants me to stop working at the palace. Abandon my important work with Queen Celestia."

"Good. You should stop working at the palace and abandon your meaningless job being a toy-boy for Celestia to jerk around… unless you want to end up in the queen's bed?"

"It's hard work, listening out for things the Farstriders can use. And it's really stressful."

Tempest sighed at him, "It's such hard work and you're so good at it, you're talking about it openly on a civilian's doorstep in the middle of a gossipy town, Pyorin. The same town who started the whole 'Sunthraze Matters' thing?"

Britecleff got bored with no real answer from either of them, focused on the door again. He leaned around to check the shuttered windows, but there was no apparent movement.

Pyorin went on rambling, "Eh, and I guess I admit, I am a little curious about Celestia, sometimes. I mean, Anasterian must be going crazy about her for a good reason. So as far as her bed, if I'm going to be honest, I guess that's a… Maybe? Ow-!"

Britecleff turned back around, freshly annoyed with them both.

Pyorin's face was red, but he wasn't saying anything. Tempest hummed pleasantly to herself.

Britecleff hissed at them, "Act like two competent servants of law and order. For once. You know, mysterious silence, repose and dignified bearing?"

Tempest mumbled, "I hate being dignified."

Pyorin pointed with a thumb, "And I only like her when she's baring."

"Baring? Like getting naked. Really lame, Pyorin."

"That's not what you said last night."

Tempest snaked her neck, with attitude, "And if you'd done half of what you were supposed to do last night, I wouldn't have forgotten about it so easily, now would I?"

Britecleff turned on them again, "When Sunthraze is finally in the Farstriders, he is getting both of your jobs, I don't care if that makes sense or not. I swear to Sylvanas I am going to find the paperwork to make that happen. I am going to bribe that damned Blaize whatever it takes, because I don't want to hear this, anymore! Got it?"

The door creaked open. A woman with deep blue-green eyes, and red-gold hair, still a great beauty, uncurled herself from beneath an old tattered rag about her shoulders. She saw their uniforms, certainly. Britecleff readied a fast smile, to state their business.

But she got there first, "My errant son? He's upstairs. Third door on the left." And Sunthraze's mother stepped back, held the door open wide for them.

Britecleff was surprised, but he didn't show it as the others did, "Evenso, Renelia Sunthraze, ma'am, I should state, for the record, that we are here on the orders of Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner to speak with your son. Only speak to him, that is all. It's just that it's a confidential matter and he missed our meeting at the Garrison. It wasn't the kind of confidential meeting that a loyal citizen of Silvermoon can miss."

Sunthraze's mother just stared. She didn't need any more convincing. Or, she didn't care.

"Good, then. I'll… go and see him now." To Pyorin, "Watch this door. No one comes in and no one goes out." He glanced over at Renelia Sunthraze to make that even more clear, "Tempest, you… well, if Sunthraze does manage to get past me, you block any other entry points."

Sunthraze's mother Renelia told them, "Other than the kitchen window above the washbasin and the door out that way, there's no real place big enough for his fat butt to squeeze through and escape, these days."

Tempest raised her eyebrows.

Renelia gave Tempest a cold smile in turn as Tempest entered the house with the others, "Making mental notes for your next little romantic rendezvous, are you?"

Pyorin snickered laughter before he closed the front door.

Britecleff jogged up the stairs. At first, he was sure that it could only be a trap. Nobody's mother, in all the time that he'd been serving as a Farstrider, completely ratted out their child when the officials came knocking. But, Sunthraze's light snoring reached his ears and it was just as Renelia said, third door on the left.

Britecleff sucked teeth, shook his head, and then yanked the edge of the sheets, hard. Sunthraze came awake whether he wanted to or not. Rugburn normally did the trick.

Sunthraze opened his eyes. Then, he hopped off the bed. He panicked, weaved for the door. Britecleff shoved him back.

"We had a date, friend. You stood me up."

"Don't make it sound like that! You're in my bedroom… the neighbors might hear."

"Be serious."

"Help! Mom!"

"She's the one who let us in here."

"Geez… ugh…" Sunthraze sank back down to sit on the bed. He rubbed sleep from his eyes. "This has to be a nightmare. What time is it?"

"Three o'clock in the morning."

"What possessed you! Do you know what it means to work on a farm, that I have to get back up in like… two hours? Less, if I want to not smell like bed and pajamas all day… dear Sargeras, this is madness." Sunthraze looked ready to cry, "You don't… 'invite' someone to a meeting, say it's voluntary, and then barge into their house without a warrarnt, without anything at all and start… pushing them around. And I already told you that I wasn't going to say anything about what I saw in the field at the briefing this morning. You said I didn't have to do this… favor thing you were dancing around. And I'm really sure that I don't want to be a Farstrider, though I'm really, really glad Sylvanas looked so bombshell and made her pretty speech that you guys are cleaning up your act, so… what is this? What do you still want with me, Britecleff!"

"We had an emergency we had to see to at the Garrison. This was the soonest we could get to you after you missed the meeting."

"So? That's not on me…"

"Lord Sunthraze. Get up. Get some clothes on."

"I'm not really 'Lord Sunthraze', and WHY THE HELL SHOULD I?!"

"Your prince needs you. And if I have to drag you down the stairs, by the ankles, to get your patriotic assistance, I would prefer if the lady downstairs didn't see. So get some pants on."

"Who? My mother's still awake, I guess. I don't care what she thinks. I hope she gets traumatized seeing me pushed around like this! You Farstriders really like edging toward another scandal, don't you? Why'd she even let you in the house?"

"Tempest is also downstairs. Come on."

Sunthraze's face went blank. Then, he fell back onto the bed properly and kicked wild like a kid having a tantrum for several seconds, "Why? Dear everything… why me?!"

"Hey, what's this?" Britecleff turned and almost tripped over a colorful magazine on the floor.

"Oh. That must've fell out of the bed when you tried to rugburn me alive with my blanket." Sunthraze reached for Britecleff to hand it back to him. Then, when Sunthraze saw what it actually was, he fought to get to the magazine first.

"Heheh…" Britecleff began to flip through what was definitely a very smutty girly magazine. "You poor, lonely farm boys. Now, if you were a man in uniform, a decorated Farstrider that everything in a dress clamored for…"

"You're not even supposed to be in here! Now you're going through my things. Anyway, it was my… seventy-five copper I spent. So I'm entitled to enjoy it."

"Usually the trashiest girly mags are the cheapest… but you actually got a good deal on this one. This issue is practically vintage." Britecleff looked up from a particular page, seemed to remember where he was and why. "Well, here you go. I won't confiscate this. For now…" a smirk.

Sunthraze snatched it back. Stuffed it far beneath his rumpled pillow.

"By the way, page fifty-six… she makes the whole thing worthwhile." Britecleff wasn't smiling anymore, though. He was looking through Sunthraze, almost. Trying to read his reaction.

Sunthraze smiled, "Ho, yeah. Lucia Cuomo… Girl on beach with Goblin threshing machine. Never thought an oil spill could be so… anyway."

Britecleff looked bored, "Being completely serious, this is pretty pathetic, you know. You're a grown man."

"…So? And in a lot of ways, you're still a grown… prick commander in the Thalassian army."

"I'm trying to tell you. Stop being a punk and take Tempest up on her offer."

"What offer?"

"She let you kiss her. She didn't slap you. Tempest slaps a lot of people. Men. Eh… some women. I don't handle her when she does that, I just send her to Windemere."

"…Why am I not surprised."

"Well? Not that I care so much, but you're being an idiot. It's like watching a kitten stand there in the road, about to get squashed by a carriage."

"Tempest is… well, she's fun, and she's cute, I guess, but now that I'm back home and on planet… reality. I'll just put it this way, I do know the type."

"Type? You mean the type of woman you're afraid to go for. You have a lot less confidence when you're not in a cage, I swear."

"Britecleff, I'll go downstairs willingly if you never, ever bring this up again! And you don't tell Tempest about the magazine."

"You forget that Tempest also enjoys this brand of magazine, considering her… proclivities."

Sunthraze gawped at the comment. Then, he remembered, "Well, even if she's a girl who likes other girls, too… it's still ungentlemanly—why are we even having this conversation! And I think it's kind of offensive to her, right!"

"Trust me. It's not. So, all that time you guys talked, she never, ever brought it up?"

"Brought what up?"

"Well… I mean, I'm guessing myself, but I'm pretty sure it's obvious how she ended up in that reform school in the first place, and on the fast track to becoming an officer?"

Sunthraze just looked scared.

"Look, I'm trying to give you some confidence, some inspiration to go for the poor girl, when there's clearly an opening that's once in a lifetime, and I can also save myself a lot of headaches if you do. She and Pyorin have been driving me crazy, Sunthraze. I'm sure you've noticed."

"Wait… are we… did you bust into my house for a secret assignment, or are you trying to fix me up, or what? Because there's all kinds of crazy unprofessionalism going on right now if you ask me."

Britecleff flushed red, "Alright. Don't say I didn't try to help you out. Pants. Downstairs. Now."