Golden Zero16- There's not too much to say here since we've already talked quite a bit through PM since the last chapter, but I don't want it to look like I ignored you! Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 17

Day 14 of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180

"Though many of the spells we use today have been known since ancient times, it wasn't until approximately Imperial Year 550 that researchers in Fhirdiad began to rigorously classify magic," Manuela said as she paced the front of the Golden Deer classroom. "What we recognize now as Faith spells were easy to distinguish from the rest, but there were some difficulties with Reason Magic. Most are classified as Black Magic, but the term 'Dark Magic' has been applied to spells that are poorly understood. Some Church authorities have spoken against the use of these spells, and I doubt many of you will be capable of utilizing them at all. Before I discuss the subject, though, you must understand what sets these spells apart. The best way to recognize the differences is to consider their naming conventions, which is what I will go over for this lesson…"

Claude would have been attentive if the lesson covered the actual origins of Dark Magic, but studying the etymology of spells he didn't even use wasn't a compelling use of time. Marianne's expression was too blank to interpret, but most of the class visibly concurred with Claude's boredom. Lysithea sat with her arms crossed as if annoyed to spend time on a subject she had mastered long ago. Only Lorenz acted engrossed by what was being said, but Claude guessed that was just another attempt to put up a "noble" disposition. He likely already covered the subject from his time at the Royal School of Sorcery.

Claude risked snapping his quill in half as he bent it out of frustration- not because of the dull lecture, though, but rather as a response to the work that sat on his table. He was staring at a makeshift depiction of Gronder Field that he had drawn on the back of some parchment. He had already crossed out sets of names three times, and he was contemplating a fourth.

He was, of course, devising plans for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. These ideas were relatively innocuous, nothing more than basic formations. The real stratagems would come later. Any convincing scheme had to have a realistic setup to avoid drawing attention. He had been working on this project since early that morning, and he just couldn't put it down.

Though Claude normally took a seat towards the front of the class, he had strategically positioned himself behind Raphael to obscure his professor's view. Claude sat beside Leonie who, despite expressing some criticism that he was squandering his tuition by not paying attention, was not going to rat him out. Lorenz and Lysithea were the main threats, but they were too far away to tell what was going on.

Was it rude to do work during a lecture? Probably. But what was more important- making his teacher happy, or earning a potentially useful prize and the esteem of his classmates by leading the Golden Deer to victory?

If he was to implement some subterfuge, how could he pull it off if he didn't have his friends in position to execute it? But wouldn't it all fall apart if he was knocked out of the competition because he couldn't rely on the people guarding him? He could at least put Lorenz far away- or would the heir of Gloucester scoff at his plans and be better suited with an "honored" position by his side? Hilda would be more loyal defending the house leader than she would be reliable as a commander. Or would it be better to help her grow as a lea-

Claude was interrupted when someone tapped a baton against his map. He looked up to see Professor Manuela frowning at him.

"Am I really that boring to listen to?" Manuela groaned. To her credit, she seemed to find the lesson as tedious as everyone else.

"It's academy-related, I promise!" Claude rationalized. He spun the map around so Manuela could read it. "See? I'm working on possible formations for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. I know you want to win as badly as I do."

"Shouldn't your professor have a say in these plans?" Manuela tested.

"Yes, but I wasn't sure how much you were going to get involved. I had a feeling that you might sit this one out due to your injury," Claude said. Professor Manuela had been stabbed by the Death Knight the previous moon during Flayn's kidnapping.

Manuela's eyebrows rose. "You had a feeling?"

"That's what I said." In actuality, he had overheard Manuela discussing her plan to not participate with Professor Hanneman. She seemed to suspect as much, but Claude wasn't going to admit to it.

Manuela smiled as she picked the map up. "Well now, let's take a break from that lesson everyone was so clearly engaged with and study the work of your house leader, shall we? Hmm... I see. Yes! This arrangement does make sense. You seem quite certain where to place the ancillary students. But the scribbles, all the scribbles! You have no idea where to put the senior students… your friends… do you, Claude?"

Manuela looked to Claude's deskmate. "Leonie, dear. Why do you think he's struggling so much with that?"

Leonie hypothesized, "He probably doesn't know if he wants to keep the people he trusts close by or if it's better to spread them out to help manage the others."

"I think you're right," Manuela said. She looked back to Claude. "As your instructor, I must ask that most of them take commanding roles, but I admire that you want them close by to keep them safe. I'm sure it's not because you want them to keep you safe, right?"

Manuela winked quickly, set the map down, and walked to the front the classroom. She continued, "It's tempting to believe that taking on all the responsibility for success is doing our friends a favor... unburdening them of certain demands, or of guilt should you meet with failure. But in the end, that way of thinking is just misguided vanity. When I was in the opera, I really did have to fight alone, for myself alone. It's not like that here. To succeed, you need to trust your friends and the role they play. I don't mean just like your friends… but really trust in their duties and capabilities as much as your own."

"I couldn't agree more, professor," Lorenz said. "There are some here that seem to believe that this class is meant solely as a union of friends. In actuality, we are here to train as professional officers. The very foundation of an army is built on the respect of the duties that title maintains."

"Thank you Lorenz, but that's not entirely my point, either. Respect is enhanced by trust, and trust is put in an individual person, not a title. How can trust be built without time spent together, side by side?" Manuela looked between Claude and Lorenz. "It's important to know when is the time to worry about responsibilities and when is the time to just be friends. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is still two weeks away. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, or it will pass you all by. These will probably be the best days of your life, you know."

Manuela sat down on her desk, dropped her baton, and leaned back. "Ugh. I'm getting hungry. How about we leave early to get in front of the lunch line?" she suggested as she rubbed her forehead.

A loud cheer rose from the classroom, largely buoyed by Raphael as he immediately jumped out of his chair. Thankfully, their classroom was already the closest to the dining hall, so they wouldn't have walk by the jealous gazes of the other students.

Standing Before the Precipice - Day 17 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1186 (Fódlan Calendar)

Several of Elam's leading commanders, including Demetrius and Nousha, secured wyverns in the following days to hurry back to Istakhr and the Dunya to prepare for the impending crisis. Faruq was in no state to fly, so the rest of the entourage returned home as quickly as his health would allow. The loss of the carriages complicated matters, but sufficient replacements were eventually found. The Shakiriyya were initially insistent that the rest of the royal family proceed on by wyvern, but Khalid, James, and Tiana were all unwilling to leave the king's side.

By the time they reached the palace, a letter from Mirza Ghalib had already arrived. It contained no surprises, as it spoke of a heinous attack on the king's life and accused Prince Khalid of being the perpetrator. Despite having just held a celebration that was theoretically in Khalid's honor, the letter referred to Khalid's "disreputable" nature and his clear motive to prevent Ghalib's nomination. Abbas obviously had a hand in its crafting, as it also referenced the strange behavior of the bandits avoiding Khalid and that a "servant girl" of the prince had "mysteriously" left the Attali estate the night before. Ghalib declared that if Khalid was not executed for his crime, the Tabarzin would have no choice but to march into Elam and mete out justice. It was not stated outright, but it was implied that Ghalib may have to step in as the acting executive power in Almyra if the king was unable or unwilling to fulfill his duty.

Thankfully, the other lands of Almyra all waited until the king sent his response before declaring for one side or the other. In the letter, King Faruq dismissed the behavior of the bandits as a ruse to stage Khalid as the perpetrator. He argued that Ghalib, rather than Khalid, had the resources and authority to pull off such a plan, and he asserted that the mirza's motives were just as strong. He requested more time to investigate what remained of the evidence. Faruq also declared that Ghalib's authority as mirza was nullified for the time being and that he expected the people of the Tabarzin to answer to the king directly instead.

Ghalib returned a rebuttal to this, stating that any investigation was a just a ploy to buy Khalid more time to tightened his grasp on Elam's court. Investigating was of no use since the scene of the incident was nothing more than a smoldering husk. It also assured that, despite the king's order, the entirety of the Tabarzin remained loyal to the mirza.

Given the deafening silence from all other Tabarzin voices, Ghalib's claim to the Tabarzin's full fidelity looked to be true. Most of them were all too glad to watch the downfall of a prince with Fódlan blood. There was no use responding to this letter, so it was just a matter of waiting to hear what Shomal, Meteora, and Saba would say.

On a pleasant morning that perhaps marked their final moments of peace, Khalid waited alone with his father for their breakfast to be delivered. Accounting for travel distances, the answers from Soraya, Justinian, and Dizhwar likely either arrived over the previous night or would reach them sometime that day.

The king's quarters had been rearranged to hold a full table with chairs within the liwan. Moving the king from his wheelchair onto a divan within a private setting would take more effort than it was worth. The king still had no feeling in his legs, and at that point, everyone understood that he would likely never regain use of his lower limbs.

The exchange between Khalid and Faruq began awkwardly. At first, they could not progress much further than acknowledging the weather. They eventually debated whether the flowers in the garden could grow in the Alliance's climate, which provided something of a temporary outlet.

Queen Tiana finally arrived with breakfast trays, which she set in front of her husband and son.

"Enjoy your meal, you two," she told them. "You should also know that Demetrius has called for a meeting in the council chamber in an hour."

"We've received word from the others?" Faruq asked.

"More than that, it sounds like. Just… don't worry about it until it's time. I'll see you both then."

Before leaving, Tiana put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. He put his own hand on top of hers and softly said, "Thank you, Tiana."

Halfway through the meal, Faruq abruptly sighed, indicating that he was ready to address the reason he summoned his son.

"… I want to apologize," Faruq exhaled. "I should have listened to you and your brothers when you warned me not to trust Ghalib. Everything that's happened is my own fault. I was drunk, just trying to have a fun night, and it was maddening that one awry remark caused so much uproar. I was frustrated with the audience, but more importantly, I was frustrated with myself. I made the mistake of taking that frustration out on the three of you when you all wanted to do is help."

Khalid was relieved to hear his father talking sensibly at last, but he asked, "Why tell this to me but not James?"

"I did tell him this much yesterday, but I wanted to talk to you separately because of what I'm about to say next." Faruq cleared his throat. "I'm sure you already know this, but you were always my first choice, Khalid, even if Shahid were still here. I fervently wished to nominate you upon a successful venture in Fódlan, but with its failure and the embarrassments you received at the Mirza's Citadel, it became clear that doing so wasn't a feasible choice in the near future. I guess I was beginning to wonder if it would ever be possible at all, and that led to my lapse in judgment."

As he gazed through the archway into the garden, the king continued, "I knew what I said about Ghalib's virtues was a mistake before I even sobered up, but I felt I could make the best of it. If people assumed Ghalib was the heir, I thought it would deflect malicious eyes from you and your brothers. And if the situation ever changed enough that I could finally nominate you, I wouldn't technically be walking back on my word since I never said anything official. The flaw in that plan, of course, was underestimating what my brother is capable of. I knew he was ambitious… even so, I never thought he'd try to kill me. It's still hard to believe, but the evidence speaks for itself. Tiana once theorized that Ghalib may have had Shahid murdered. I didn't want to hear it at the time, but the possibility seems more credible by the day. Abbas always admired Shahid, and I fear he is walking down the same path."

Faruq chuckled bitterly. "It's a fitting bit of irony, isn't it? I was paralyzed with indecision, spending my entire reign so unsure of how to plug all of the leaks. Now that the peace I worked for has fallen apart, though, I want to make a stand and fight for the family I have left." He looked down at his still legs and muttered, "But… look at me now."

Khalid frowned. "… We're glad we still have you here, father. That's what matters most. We're going to fix this mess as best as we can, and we're going to bring Abbas back safe. I believe you still have plenty of worthy entries for the histories in your future. 'Faruq the Bold' sounds about right, not 'Faruq the Indecisive.'"

The king smiled weakly. "I hope so. It sounds like we'll find out how realistic that is in half an hour."

Khalid took it upon himself to wheel his father to the council chamber once it was time. Many of Elam's generals stood outside, not wanting to intrude until the king had officially welcomed them.

The council chamber held a head divan that was large enough to fit the royal family. In the current arrangement, this divan served as one rim of an oval of cushions surrounding a large map of Almyra. Queen Tiana, Prince James, and Demetrius had already taken positions, along with two unexpected guests- the Sardar of Shomal, Soraya, and its Protector, Senusret. They sat at an honored place on the opposite side of the head divan.

"Soraya! I was expecting a letter," Faruq exclaimed as his family helped him onto the head divan next to the queen. Khalid joined them after moving his father's wheelchair aside.

"Surprise," Sardar Soraya said in a voice that was simultaneously jocular and subdued. "Your Majesty, Your Highness… It's an honor to see you again so soon, though I daresay the circumstances preclude it from being a pleasure. Demetrius told me that you've done away with greeting guests in the throne room, but it was still a little odd to just walk in."

"I apologize if the environment has become too casual. I hope you'll understand that in my current state, I can't be bothered with formalities." Faruq then ordered the others to be ushered into the room.

Khalid felt uneasy as he counted the faces. Many of them likely blamed him for the current predicament. He wished Dimitri was present to intimidate anyone who might speak out of line, but there was no chance of a lowly retainer from Fódlan being allowed inside, even if he did have training in military strategy.

Once the entire council was ready, Soraya told the king, "I brought along a copy of the letter that I sent to the other lands, but I thought you might appreciate a personal delivery. I don't want to keep you in suspense until you read it, so I'll cut to the point. You have the support of Shomal, King Faruq. Even if Ghalib is innocent of this crime, I have no interest in him setting himself up as the next king. That's not a world I want my daughter to grow up in."

Faruq lowered his head graciously. "Indeed, my brother's zeal has spiraled out of control. I was a fool for not seeing it earlier. Thank you for your support, Soraya. Your wisdom will be much needed. Speaking of your daughter, I take it that Princess Lydia has remained home?"

Soraya nodded. "That's correct. Until the conflict is resolved, I've appointed Izemrasen as Grand Vizier to manage Shomal whenever I am absent. He will be supported by a council of five leading families from Astane. Of course, I can count on Lydia to let me know if they're doing anything I wouldn't approve of. She's never been one to spare details."

Khalid recognized the name Izemrasen as that of Khabash and Satiah's father. The son had assuredly spoken well of the prince, so the new Grand Vizier might serve as a useful ally.

Soraya continued, "You should know that besides myself and Senusret, we came with a security escort. They're probably wandering the palace grounds right now, so I hope you don't mind."

"It's not an issue at all," Faruq assured.

Before more could be said, a courier entered the hall holding a scroll. "An announcement from Justinian of Meteora, Your Majesty," she said.

The courier prepared to hand the document to the king, but Faruq glanced at his wife and said, "You take charge of this. If I'm not going to be on the battlefield, they'll need to get accustomed to your authority."

Tiana frowned but nodded as she took the letter. Khalid watched his mother's expression carefully as she read. He already dreaded the worst, but the subtle tightening of her facial features confirmed the truth.

Tiana set the letter on her lap calmly, paused, and then told everyone, "Meteora has declared for Ghalib. If the mirza marches on Elam, they will be supporting his cause."

Dismayed murmurs immediately rose from all corners of the room. Tiana knew there was no use trying to calm the host, so she continued to talk over them.

"You are all welcome to read it. It's prettily written, but it's not saying much that we haven't already heard from the mirza. Just some additional nonsense on how Elam has trampled on the rights of the Votaries and the Meteoran king on the flimsiest of rationale without directly accusing King Faruq himself. They've even managed to blame us for their mishandling of the plague and the Dékhomai incident. If nothing else, it's worth reading as an example of how eloquence doesn't denote substance. To his credit, Philemon's writing skills haven't waned a bit."

The council eventually quieted as the letter made its way around the room. After one general read it, he commented, "Thanks to this, we're no longer simply talking about putting down an insurrection. This is a civil war, and we'll be facing it without our Grand Agha."

Khalid sensed more than a few pairs of eyes glaring in his direction. Nousha's gaze burned with the intensity of all the rest put together. The attention was thankfully diverted by Soraya.

"On the subject of Nader," the sardar began, "we should have received a visit from one of Helladius's ships two days ago. It never arrived. It's possible that there is a legitimate reason, but he's usually quite punctual. I already suspected the Meteorans were up to something unscrupulous based on that. Hopefully they haven't taken Nader prisoner back to Metanoiapolis, or worse."

Khalid had to add his voice to the narrative before came down too hard against him. He shared, "It's my belief that they were blocking our communication with him before even that. Nader isn't stupid. I would bet money he caught wind and got out of Derdriu before trouble arrived. Unfortunately, that also cuts off any direct route back to Almyra. He would probably have to board a ship to different land that trades with us and then find another vessel once there."

"That may be true, but we can't stake our future on a hypothetical with an unknown timeline," Faruq said regretfully.

Before anyone else could toss in their opinion, another courier arrived in the doorway carrying a new letter.

"From Saba?" Tiana asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Give it here, then."

Khalid studied the queen's reaction more anxiously this time. He was quite confident on where Shomal and Meteora would land, but he was less certain on Saba's decision.

Tiana did not betray the secret until she contemptuously flipped the letter onto the map. It was picked up by James and slowly passed around the chamber, but the queen summarized, "Dizhwar is claiming neutrality. Without a proper investigation, he won't risk spilling innocent Almyran blood. He prays that the righteous will prevail, and he reiterates his loyalty to whomever the course of history proves honorable." She snorted. "Doesn't want to risk spilling innocent blood? That's a colorful way of saying he's scared of his own blood saturating the sand. I'm sorry for speaking ill of your brother-in-law, Faruq, but he's a coward."

Khalid observed, "He's gambling that we would rather leave him in peace than stretch our resources too thin trying to pressure him into supporting us. It won't earn him any friends with the victor, but at least they'll survive."

"It's a bet Dizhwar and Maysun will win," the king admitted. "As much as I want Saba's support, I'm not marching an army across the desert to enforce it. It's not worth the investment. I don't see our opponents trying to wrangle Saba's support, either. They're probably cheering at this news and won't do anything to anger the emir."

Anthony mused, "It's a difficult position to be in. Saba was ravaged by the last war, and one way or another, Emira Maysun would have to side against one of her brothers."

Tiana frowned as she replied, "True, but someone with heart would face that choice head-first rather than run from it." She then glanced at Soraya. "I am grateful that at least the sardar was brave enough to do the right thing, and polite enough to bring that message here herself."

"I will accept the compliment, but civility is not my sole purpose for being here." Soraya looked to Khalid. She maintained her calm demeanor, but her eyes seemed to subtly sparkle. "You're the bright one in your family, Prince Khalid. Do you know why I would personally come?"

The answer seemed obvious enough, but Khalid appreciated the chance for a victory. He guessed, "You want to make immediate plans for an attack. If we can strike before our enemies fully mobilize, we might be able to nip the conflict in the bud."

"One point for the prince of Elam. I trust Senusret to get us on the move quickly, but Shomal does not have the depth of martial resources of everyone else. Our best advantage is speed," Soraya explained.

Faruq grunted as he sat up in his seat, hoping to project at least a little authority. "The Tabarzin has as many standing soldiers as Elam does, maybe even more, and they're always prepared for battle. If it's a race, they'll win every time."

"They might be ready, but we would still have the numerical superiority if Meteora isn't prepared," Demetrius countered. "The Sentinels of the Empyrean will be set to march at a moment's notice, but they won't be numerous enough to match our forces alone. Philemon and Aurelian are smart, and they'll raise an army that will be formidable. It will take time, though. Much of their military infrastructure has been gutted due to financial woes."

"And what if they've already begun to prepare their army? We would expect that if Meteora knew of the raid in the Mikdash ahead of time," Nousha pointed out. Several of the other generals looked surprised that she would challenge her superior.

Demetrius shook his head. "Our intelligence has not seen any signs of activity on their end. That gives us three possibilities- they were worried that we would find out, they did not know of the exact date and details of the attack, or they weren't involved in the plan at all. If Prince Khalid is correct that the Meteorans were already trying to separate us from Grand Agha Nader, then the first two possibilities are more likely."

Prince James clasped his hands together as he dourly looked to their acting Grand Agha. "Your knowledge of the enemy is of profound benefit to us," he thanked. "That being said… forgive me if it is rude to ask, but how do you feel about waring with your homeland, Demetrius? Don't you have a brother within the Sentinels? And Anthony… you too follow the Votaries. Are you uncomfortable raising a blade against those who claim to represent your goddess?"

Everyone in the room squirmed a bit despite James's apologies; even so, they all waited expectantly for the answers.

Demetrius went first. He looked unperturbed. "As far as I ever saw it, I answered to the sardar of Meteora, and he answered to the king of Almyra. If the so-called 'King' Justinian wants a fight, he's in open rebellion, and my allegiance defaults to the higher authority. There's nothing more to it. It's ugly, but when has war been anything different? As for my brother, he's nothing more than a legal scribe. He won't be on the battlefield."

Satisfied with this answer, everyone turned to Anthony. Comparatively, he was quite anxious with the attention.

"I would be lying if I did not confess to some distress," Anthony admitted quietly. "I always knew there was a risk of fighting fellow believers, but I suppose I thought that if I held true to my faith, Nabataea would guide me on the proper path. But when both sides pray for her protection, who is to receive her blessing?" He shook his head in resignation. "I will ponder, and I will pray. But when I brandish my bow, my only priority will be my duty."

Senusret reasoned, "The Sentinels aside, worrying about fighting Votaries may be a moot issue if we move quick enough. If we attack Meteora, we'll face more resistance from their side, and Ghalib will still have time to intercept us. A march south across Elam would make our target too obvious. Shomal's army can reach the Tabarzin much quicker, so that should be our objective."

"It may already be too late for that," Anthony said. "If Mirza Ghalib holes himself up inside his citadel, we might not have time to force a surrender before the Meteorans arrive."

Khalid noted, "The citadel is well designed for housing an army, but it isn't impenetrable to a direct assault. I don't think we'll have to worry about that, though. Ghalib will meet us on the field."

"And what makes you say that?" Senusret asked.

"That's who my uncle is. He doesn't want to be the victor of a boring siege. He wants to march out for everyone to watch as he smites his enemy."

The king nodded. "Khalid is right, and we need to use that to our advantage."

"Seconded," Soraya chimed in. "Leave the heavier siege equipment behind. Bring only enough so that Ghalib won't be tempted to stay back if Tabarzin spies are able to catalogue our armaments."

Despite her lower standing, Nousha decided to speak up again as she pointed at the map. "We should take a route to the far north. That will put the Mikdash between us and any Meteoran reinforcements. We can link our armies on the Shahrud and then proceed towards the mirza. If he meets our advance, we will probably face him somewhere between the Shahrud and the Sous Rivers."

Emboldened by Nousha's initiative, several of the other lower generals added their input. The colloquy moved from high-level strategies to more precise logistics- how to raise more troops, the timeline for when both armies would be ready, when they would need to march to reach the Shahrud at the same time, and so on. Khalid was content to leave most of this discussion to the people qualified to actually talk about it. He was reintroduced, however, when asked a question.

"And what about you, Khalid? Where would you like to be positioned? Infantry, wyvern corps, cavalry?" Tiana inquired.

Khalid felt more comfortable fighting on a wyvern, but his retainers were more familiar with riding by horseback. He was willing to make a compromise to keep them by his side.

"I'll support the cavalry," Khalid told the council.

"Very well. That will put you under the direct supervision of Anthony," Demetrius said as he wrote this down.

The king laughed. "Have you considered volunteering as a Mubarizun, Khalid? If you and my brother could duel things out, it would make this a lot simpler."

The Mubarizun were champions from opposing armies who would clash before the main divisions engaged. Sometimes, losing a beloved champion would be so demoralizing that the army would either leave the field or lay down its weapons. As armies grew larger and more advanced, though, the ideal of the lone hero warrior had fallen the wayside, and the Mubarizun had not played any significant roles since King Harun defeated the Meteorans centuries earlier.

Most of the room laughed alongside the king. Khalid had to join in as well. After all, it was the first time his father had been earnestly amused in days.

"If you're fine waiting until I put on another forty pounds of muscle, we can discuss the idea some more. Otherwise, I think we'll have to find someone else," Khalid played along.

The others did not offer this reply as buoyant of a reaction has Faruq has earned, but it at least deflected any serious inquiries into whether Khalid actually should offer himself up.

After the main divisions were drawn up, the final question raised came from a lower general, who wanted insurance that loyalty between Elam and Shomal would not disintegrate in the heat of battle. The chain of command had Senusret and Demetrius reporting to Tiana, who would be supported by Soraya in an advisory capacity. Divisions from Elam and Shomal were drawn up as being kept segregated. This would prevent numerous potential issues associated with restructuring, but Tiana and Soraya both conceded that it might project a lack of unity.

To alleviate this, it was agreed that select individuals would be traded to the other army. Soraya recommended that Khabash and Farjad, as sons of two of Shomal's great families, ride alongside Prince Khalid in Elam's army. She pointed out that they already had a preestablished relationship that would ease the transition. In exchange, Elam agreed to place Prince James under Senusret's command.

The conference lasted through the majority of the afternoon. Thankfully, the palace cooks had time to prepare a special dinner for their guests. Soraya and Senusret were granted a separate room alongside the royal family. The guests from Shomal wished to hear more about the incident in the Mikdash from people who were there firsthand, but after that, the conversation turned to more lighthearted topics. Soraya's imperturbable demeanor kept the mood relaxed, and even the king seemed to set aside his anxieties for a few hours. Elam's commanders and the escorts from Shomal ate in another hall, while the royal retainers were on their own for the night.

Khalid was delayed leaving dinner by several minutes when Senusret asked to speak with him. The Dagdan mercenary was curious to know about the prince's time at the monastery. He had heard of the Officer's Academy during the Dagdan invasion of Adrestia, and he wished to know the extent of Khalid's education so he could gauge how well he could rely on the prince in battle.

After providing Senusret with a satisfactory answer, Khalid walked alone towards his quarters. Before rounding the final corner, though, a figure stepped out from the dark. If Khalid had a weapon, he would have brandished it until he realized the true identity of the phantom.

"Gah! Marianne!" he blurted out. "Okay, we need to do something about this silently gliding around in the dark thing. If you keep this up, it's just a matter of time before someone gets the wrong idea and cuts you down by accident. That would be a rather disappointing way for our partnership to end."

"I'm sorry, Claud- … No, sorry, I mean Khal-."

Khalid could barely identify Marianne's expression in the dark, but watching her struggle to remember his name yet again still managed to be physically painful.

"Marianne, if you just want to use 'Claude,' I don't mind."

"No, no, that would be rude, umm, K-khalid…"

"No, really, it's fine." His tone changed as an idea struck him. "How about this? I officially order you to call me Claude. Just think of it as a nickname, for old times' sake. Is that fine with you?"

"Umm… Yes, it's fine. Thank you… Claude."

"Don't mention it. Now… could you remind me what you actually needed again?"

"Oh! I wanted to warn you. There are three young soldiers from Shomal in our quarters right now. They seem to know you. I think Dimitri and Ariella offered to share their rooms for the night. I wanted to make sure you were okay with it, though, before you got pulled into it. If it's a problem, I think we can handle it ourselves without making you get involved."

"Do the names Farjad, Khabash, and Satiah mean anything to you?"

"Ah, yes! That's them."

"Well, in that case, it seems we'll have to put up with them. Satiah will be with the wyvern corps, but we're going to be fighting directly alongside the guys. Someone must have mentioned that to you, right?" When Marianne began shaking her head and mumbling, he quickly amended, "Actually, forget that question. Let's just head back before someone thinks we're a couple of assassins plotting something."

Difficulty with names excepted, Marianne was in some ways adapting to life as Khalid's newest retainer easier than Dimitri. She struggled in some of her duties, notably cleaning, but she was not as shocked over certain elements of Almyran culture. It was odd to consider that she had actually spent more time living in Almyra over the past decade than Khalid himself.

As Khalid and Marianne proceeded through the tunnel to their courtyard, they could already hear voices and distinguish the flickering of candle light. It appeared that Satiah and Dimitri were locked in a close match of shatranj. Ariella, Khabash, and Farjad cheered them on. The arrival of Khalid and Marianne went unnoticed when the host suddenly broke out into enthusiastic shouts and claps. Satiah slumped backwards while Dimitri stared at the board.

"I knew you would eventually do it, Dimitri!" Ariella celebrated. "It only took four months, but my lessons have finally paid off. Look how far my student has come!"

"Yes, well, I don't have as much time to sit around playing games as the rest of you apparently do," Satiah mumbled. She then forced a polite smile. "But congratulations, Dimitri. You earned it. I'm more annoyed that my own brother apparently wanted me to lose."

Khabash waved his hands defensively. "It's not so much that I wanted you to lose. But when you watch someone fighting so hard to finally triumph, how can you not be a bit inspired?"

"Really, it's nothing," Dimitri said. "I was just fortunate. Probability suggests I would eventually win one. I apologize that it had to be you, Satiah. I felt like you were a step ahead of me the entire time."

The party still hadn't noticed the new arrivals, so Khalid interjected, "I think I deserve at least a little of the credit for training him, too, Ariella."

"Prince Khalid!" Khabash welcomed. "A prince, a friend, and now a commanding officer! It really does seem that our destinies are tied."

Khalid tried to smile. "Yes, well, I hope the supreme wrestler of Shomal doesn't mind fighting by horseback. I didn't realize I was dragging you into that when I asked to accompany the cavalry."

Farjad noted, "He should be fine, right? After all, he's the greatest polo player to ever grace Astane, if the stories I heard are even half accurate. One doesn't earn that title without some equestrian talents."

Khabash bit his lip for a brief second before grinning widely. "Of course! It will be a far better demonstration of my skill than that incident in the Channel of Blood."

"What incident would that be?" Ariella asked, genuinely confused.

"N-nothing at all!" Farjad stumbled. If he was being honest, he had only himself to blame for dragging the memory back into relevance. He muttered, "I thought we all agreed not to talk about that…"

Surprisingly, Dimitri began to laugh. "Don't worry, Farjad. If anything like that should happen again, we now have a healer that can help cover up the damage."

"What kind of damage do you mean?" Marianne asked.

Seeing Farjad's embarrassment reach a new peak, Khalid decided to step in.

"Maybe we should all hold to our promise and let the subject drop," he allayed. "I hope I didn't miss the final match of shatranj. Is there room for me to join?"

Khabash clapped his hands together. "You're the royal in this group, Prince Khalid. If it's more games you want, it's more games you'll get."

Khalid was actually most interested in playing against Farjad. He had already beaten Khabash before, and knowing that Satiah had lost to Dimitri, it was a fair assumption that she wouldn't provide much of a challenge for the prince.

In the end, Khalid only got one match with Farjad. The prince won a close one and was eager for another game, but his best rival decided he was "exhausted" of playing for the night. Rather than risk another loss, Farjad instead snacked and chatted with the rest of the group. Only Khabash wished to play against the champion, which didn't make for the most engaging experience. Khalid focused more on participating in the ongoing conversation than his match, but he still won without issue.

Just like their superiors, these future soldiers were keen to discuss anything but the war at hand. They deftly dodged the topic for two full hours. Their substitutes included, among other things, comparisons of the cuisine of Elam and Shomal, guessing Senusret's age, and predicting who in their group would be the first to marry.

There was a brief moment, however, when everyone simultaneously fell silent. This allowed the shadow of war to swoop in and exert its sway over the space. Satiah was the first to surrender as she stood and said, "I'm done for the night. Sardar Soraya wants to leave early enough to complete the entire flight to Astane tomorrow. That's a tough journey as it is, even without accounting for sleep deprivation."

Marianne was delighted for an excuse to leave. "I should also go… I don't want to wake anyone up by making noise," she rationalized.

No one called Marianne out on what was one of the least convincing excuses ever conjured given her propensity for silence. Instead, Ariella and Farjad used similar arguments.

Everyone then faced Khabash, expecting him to be the next to fall in line. He waved them off. "You go ahead. I'm not tired yet, so I think I'll stay up a bit longer."

"I won't put up with that rationale if you try slacking off right before the battle, too," Satiah warned him.

"No need to worry about that, Satiah. Sleep or no sleep, I'll be ready!"

The original plan called for Farjad and Khabash to stay with Dimitri, but Khalid had since recommended that they instead use his sitting room. Thus, Farjad headed up the stairs, Satiah and Ariella took one bedroom, and Marianne withdrew alone. Dimitri did not retire for the night, but he did slip some distance away. He sat half shrouded in darkness and mumbling under his breath.

That left only Khalid and Khabash together. Once the others were gone, Khabash's grin faded away. Obviously, it was impossible to maintain one permanently, but the expression that followed was surprisingly distant.

"Where went that optimism of yours, Khabash? You almost had me convinced you meant it," Khalid asked. "There's no need to be embarrassed if you're scared. That's natural, even for the strongest warrior."

Khabash wringed his hands as he explained, "It's not that I'm scared, exactly. It's more that… I'm scared of being scared? If that makes sense at all." He shook his head. "I know people think I'm foolish… that I won't amount to much. Maybe they're right, but I have to believe that I can achieve something."

"Not to say you're wrong, but I don't think relations between Dagda and Shomal are going to crumble if someone sees your hands quivering on the battlefield."

"Trade is one thing, but my father was the first prominent noble to actually marry someone from Mirgissa. Shomal isn't as openhearted as we sometimes pretend. Things have been said about my family, like that we've diluted our traditions and that my parents will raise a generation of weaklings with wavering allegiance. If I crumble out there, my family will be seen as a failed experiment. That's what scares me more than anything, not blades or arrows. I know you can understand to an extent."

"Yeah," Khalid confessed sincerely. "Though most people already hate my Fódlan heritage, so I don't have as far to fall."

Khabash rubbed his chin. "Hmm. That's true. I wonder which is worse- being kicked to the ground before you even have a chance, or being weighed with higher expectations?" He then laughed. "My sister is definitely right. I need to get some sleep. My mind is starting to feel a bit jumbled."

Khabash was silent for a few moments, but he then beamed and waved to the shatranj board. "How about one more match? Who knows when we'll get to play again? I've got one last trick I've been saving."

Khalid wasn't convinced by this claim, but he had no reason to turn him down. In the end, he was the same as everyone around him- he wanted to put off the next day for as long as possible. The future looked grim, and as his professor once advised, it would do no good to throw away a moment of freedom.

"Alright. One more time," he answered as he huddled the dying candles closer to the board.