Author's Notes:

Golden Zero16- We already talked through PM, but if anyone else is worried that I made a blatant continuity error with the dagger, the answer is no. Dimitri dumps his armor in Chapter 6, but it specifically mentions that he kept the dagger. I've made some dumb mistakes before (as a self roast, I've had to correct referring to Dimitri's "eyes" multiple times, botched when the year updates on the calendar, and one of the greatest writing sins- referring to the "cavalry" as the "calvary"), but I would have been surprised if I messed that continuity up since I always planned to write that scene in the last chapter.

Chapter 21

Day 20 of the Garland Moon, Year 1178 (Fódlan Calendar)

"So, how are you enjoying Astane so far?" Khabash asked as he scrapped at the bottom of his bowl.

It was near the end of Khalid's first week in Shomal as he prepared for his journey to Fódlan. He sat with his escort in a small room recessed from the patio in Khabash's riad home. What Khalid had seen of the estate was modest compared to the palace, but it did have something often lacking in Astane- space. With the help of the outer walls and the bubbling fountain, the noise of the city was almost blocked out. The shaded room did its best to minimize the oppressive heat, but it was a losing battle.

"Well, it's certainly a different world than I'm accustomed to," Khalid answered as he similarly searched for the last bits of food. "I got to shadow Soraya at a council meeting. It was shocking at first to watch these commercial magnates talk to her like they were in command. The only people who would do that at the Dunya are noble families, and even then they're usually too shy to question the king."

"I guess you're right. Some of the families controlling the markets here have noble heritage, like my own, while others don't. Nobility is more important outside the capital, but here in Astane, there's not much distinction between the two groups nowadays. There's some esteem that comes with that lineage, and some of us look down on that newer money. But… there's not really much to it beyond that."

Khabash finally gave up his hunt and set the bowl down. He continued, "If everyone is scared to talk to your family… I don't know, I guess it sounds rather lonely. Do you have many friends?"

"Well, I have a servant that I'm close with. Her name is Ariella. I'm not sure if that's what you're asking for, though. Is it really a friendship if it's your job to obey the other person? That's not exactly an equal relationship."

Khabash laughed heartily. "If it's an 'equal relationship' that you want, Prince Khalid, your pool of options is limited to your brothers, and even that won't last once one of you becomes king." He then turned serious again. "But really… no friends other than your servant? Not even your brothers?"

Khalid spun his spoon around the empty bowl as he thought. "No. I try to believe that someday we could be, but no amount of optimism has blinded me enough to think that's a likely outcome at this point."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I can't really relate to your predicament. My sister means the world to me, and though she doesn't say much, I like to think she feels the same way about me. I wish you could meet her, but she's still young, and my father is a bit traditional, so… that probably won't happen." Khabash's eyes then brightened some. "… But maybe, if you'd like… I could be your friend."

Khalid was at a loss for words. "My friend? Once I leave for Fódlan, we may never see each other again."

Khabash waved the concern away with a chuckle, "No matter. Distance is irrelevant, if you ask me. Just so long as you don't forget them." He then slapped his fist into his other palm. "It's official. I was already at your service as your guardian. Now I do so as a friend! My life is in your hands."

Such a trust… if that was a requirement of friendship, it was probable that Khalid would never find one.

He laughed anyways, "Alright then, friend Khabash. Friend Khalid has places to be. I trust you haven't forgotten, but I'm supposed to take a tour of the harbor soon."

"Then we'd better not miss it, shall we? I can't have you speaking ill of my punctuality to the sardar."

"Is that your main concern?" Khalid asked as they stood.

"Oh, ah, of course not! I get bored of talking about actual work, so I have a habit of joking around for no real reason. Does that make any sense?"

Khalid allowed a smile that was actually genuine. "Ha! More than you know, Khabash."

Delayed Revelations – Day 31 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1186 (Fódlan Calendar)

Walking the halls of the Palace of Astane evoked entirely different emotions from what Khalid had previously experienced. Perhaps he just imagined that the lighting had turned darker and drearier, but there was no question that the chatter of gossiping servants had been replaced with the marching of grim soldiers.

While the rest of the arrivals from Elam made their way to the harbor, Khalid was first ushered to the palace alongside Dimitri, James, and Amin. They all wore matching dour expressions as they were led into Soraya's throne room.

The space was in fact no longer serving as a throne room at all. Soraya's divan remained in residence, but it stood at risk of collecting dust as the attention was instead directed to the center of the room where the ruling council had established a circle of couches. All were in attendance in expectation of the princes' arrival. Senusret was also present to represent Shomal's military.

Each member stood to introduce themselves and shake the hands of the two princes, though they seemed to only welcome Khalid out of obligation. Two of the members seemed to project more authority than the rest. One man's attire gave away his identity as that of the grand vizier. He was bald, and his beard was gray. Still, he was well built for someone of his shorter stature. Izemrasen first took the hand of Khalid's brother.

"It's an honor, Prince James. I've been informed that it was your plan that should help take pressure off the siege of this city. We are all in your debt."

James seemed a bit embarrassed by the attention. "Thank you, Lord Izemrasen. But Khalid here also deserves recognition. My plan was incomplete without his input."

Despite James's efforts, Izemrasen was not so easily impressed. "Yes… Prince Khalid. I do remember your face. I trust you are aware that my son died under your command?"

Khalid anticipated having to defend himself, but he had hoped to at least make it through introductions. "Khabash was my friend, Lord Izemrasen, and he saved my life. I could never forget his sacrifice, even if I wanted to."

"Then I hope you will put the years he gave to you to good use," Izemrasen charged.

A man behind the grand vizier stepped up. "To the prince's credit, he did come to the aid of my son. That does not undo the loss of your own, but it does say something."

"Kamran Al Bazargan," Khalid greeted, correctly surmising the man to be Farjad's father. They had brief interactions from the prince's previous visits, but Khalid had met so many people during that time that he barely remembered the man's face. Kamran looked much like an older version of his son- tall, thin, and serious. Interestingly, he was the only male representative on the council without facial hair. He seemed unusually concerned about his cleanliness. He was hesitant to take Khalid's hand, but his motivation seemed more driven by a fear of being physically befouled than a distaste of the prince's parentage.

Khalid continued, "I did help Farjad, but I deserve no special attention for it. It was just one of many such rescues on that battlefield. Everyone who lived through it is indebted to somebody… and usually more than one somebody. I'll remember every face, but too many have already made sacrifices for me to possibly burden all the dreams of each one. The only repayment we can consistently make is to live as the best versions of ourselves."

Dimitri's head sunk in thought, while Kamran nodded in agreement.

"And what better way to start than stomping out the fleet coming our direction? The sooner we finalize arrangements, the sooner we can save this city," suggested Senusret from behind, offering a quick escape from a delicate situation.

"Agreed," Khalid said. He had once hoped to make an ally of Izemrasen, but after Khabash's death, there was little chance for that. The best outcome was finishing business and being on their way.

Dimitri and Amin fell in line with other guards surrounding the room while Khalid and James joined the inner circle. After the princes shared a few details from the Dunya that had not been provided by the earliest messengers, the council explained their strategy to defend Astane. This included enumerating the current population of the city and their supply of rations, detailing the number and types of soldiers available, and describing the status of their fortifications and armaments. One issue was the civilian population- under the risk of invasion, many residents from surrounding villages had taken shelter within the capital's walls. This would quickly become a burden on both space and resources. The council pushed to limit traffic into the city and expel anyone without at least one family member in official residence to alleviate the crisis. Khalid and James did not argue against this proposition; instead, they assured that asylum could be granted in Istakhr for anyone who had to leave. The princes plotted a route to east that would detour the hostile conditions of the Maranjab and avoid the approaching army.

With that settled, Senusret covered the current status of Shomal's fleet. The crews were already notified of the upcoming departure, and though supplies were still being loaded, the ships were otherwise ready to sail. Khalid and James both wished to visit the harbor to see the progress firsthand. Most of the council pressed for the princes to stay at the palace in a safer environment, but they eventually relented. Senusret volunteered to personally lead the four visitors to their destination.

"How has the council been treating you? I hope they haven't made it too difficult to do your job," Khalid asked Senusret as they walked.

The Protector of Shomal smiled knowingly. "So long as it pertains to the army, they avoid interfering. I've had a few guards come to me with complaints about some of the requests they've received, but we've always managed to work things out. I might be Dagdan, but they know I have Sardar Soraya's support. There are some areas I've been given trouble, though. The council is insistent that merchant ships be allowed to continue operations as they see fit, even though I've made it clear that the departure of the fleet will prevent us from securing safe passage for commerce. Pirates are going to feast on the vulnerable as soon as they realize what's happening. I sent out a message yesterday to provide the merchants fair warning, but the council followed that up with one of their own trying to minimize the threat."

Senusret's answer told Khalid everything he needed to know. The members of the council would mind their own affairs when they knew they were unqualified to speak up, which was more than could be said for some generals back home, but they would be quick to interject whenever they saw a risk or benefit to their own finances. Consequently, they would likely play nice in the coming battles, but should Meteora or the Tabarzin fall, the council would inevitably swoop in and scrounge for an advantage in the fallout.

"And here are your accommodations for the next few months," Senusret greeted with open arms as they reached the harbor. "The first one there on the left is our flagship, the Tariq."

Other than the extra flags and adornments, the flagship was no more impressive than any of the other frigates. James leaned over to Khalid's ear and whispered, "They're no comparison against what I've seen in Meteora. Theirs are longer and have multiple gun decks."

"Don't worry about that, James. I knew what we were dealing with when I came up with my plan," Khalid assured as he put an encouraging arm around his brother. James remained unenthusiastic, but he accepted the situation wordlessly.

Meanwhile, Dimitri had the opposite reaction as he beheld the ship in awe. He continued to study every detail as they boarded the deck. Senusret probably expected them to survey the inside cabins, which is precisely what James and Amin did. Khalid, however, was too busy finding amusement from Dimitri's discoveries.

"These metal barrels. Are these what they call… cannons? I've heard of such a foreign technology before."

Khalid made no effort to hide his smile. "Spot on. They use powder similar to that used in Fódlan's explosive barrels to launch projectiles."

"So that's what you meant by firepower. I can't believe I missed them last time I was here. Such strength… why do these not accompany the ground forces?" Dimitri asked.

"They're very heavy and difficult to move. Earlier versions have gotten some action in sieges, but pulling them all the way across Almyra is no simple feat. And above all, we haven't been able to design any with enough force to launch the cannonballs far distances. They're easy to overrun on an open battlefield. Given all of that, they haven't seen much utility outside of ships. There's also probably some positioned in defense of the city that we just haven't come across."

"But if you could make them launch further, or if you could scale them down to reduce weight…"

"I know. Warfare would never look the same," Khalid agreed as his smiled vanished. "Progress can't and shouldn't be stopped, but if all we're coming up with are more efficient ways of killing each other, we're doing it wrong."

Khalid and Dimitri eventually caught up with the rest. The crew of the Tariq had finished loading the ship less than half an hour earlier, and it was clear that space was going to be tight. Not as tight as when he and Dimitri were crammed into the smuggler's hold on their previous journey, thankfully.

When they returned to the main deck, Senusret asked, "Are you ready to see some of the other ships?"

Khalid glanced between each of his companions. "We can make a quick survey, but I think we should try to help out the people doing all of the work."

"Ah… you want to be recognized as a prince of the people, do you? One who is willing to dirty your hands?"

"Honestly, I just want the job done as soon as possible," Khalid clarified with a shrug. "Do you all agree?"

When Dimitri, James, and Amin all nodded in unison, Senusret laughed warmly, "You four make far better company than the council. I'll be joining you."

The Tariq was quiet during their visit, but workers were hard at labor on some of the other ships. The assembled fleet was large enough that it was impossible to moor every ship at the same time. Their flagship was rotated out so another could take its place shortly after Khalid and the others deboarded.

The group of five made their way to a nearby frigate. The bustling scene was difficult to make sense of initially, but they eventually slipped into roles where they could help. James and Khalid pointed crates to the correct section of the ship from the wharf, Dimitri and Amin assisted with the heavy lifting, and Senusret directed the supplies to the final location. Khalid's task was the easiest of the set, but it was probably the most anyone would have agreed to. Senusret would never have been forgiven if one of the princes was injured while doing a job below their rank.

When Khalid and James had a brief window to relax before more supplies arrived, the younger brother leaned over and said to the other, "I'm impressed with Amin. He's not quite keeping up with Dimitri, but he's working as hard as could be reasonably asked of him."

"I'm not surprised," James returned. "You know Amin's from Maddaban, right? His parents were killed by pirates from Sreng when he was a child. I'm sure he wants these ships as equipped as possible on our way around the horn so he doesn't meet the same fate."

Khalid told James, "I'm surprised you brought him instead of Theodora, then… you know, unpleasant memories and all."

James crossed his arms as he pondered, "Maybe it was a mistake, but I was curious to see whether those memories would burden him or light a fire in his heart. So far, it seems to be the latter. I can't help but think it's better to face that trauma head on instead of running from it."

"Maybe so… you know, James, I-."

Khalid stopped when he realized that someone was approaching. This man asked, "You are Prince Khalid, correct?"

"That's right."

The messenger bowed and divulged, "I was sent by Princess Lydia. She hopes that you and your retainer could provide her company for dinner tonight, if possible. If so, I am to accompany you back."

"Of course. So… Dimitri and I? Did she say anything about my brother?"

The man shook his head, cowering a bit at the prospect of offending a prince. "I'm sorry. Prince James was not mentioned."

Khalid glanced at his brother, but James assured, "It's fine, Khalid. Really. She's your friend. Amin and I will continue our work here, and we'll see you again tonight."

"Alright. Thanks for understanding. I'll go grab Dimitri."

Night fell as Khalid and Dimitri were escorted back to the palace. It was during early evening that Astane truly came alive, as people finished work and enjoyed the falling temperatures. Years ago, Khabash often took Khalid out into the city in search of the best shops and baths around dusk. Khabash once spent an entire week trying to convince Khalid to purchase half the inventory of a particular tailor shop that he was certain would soon be the talk of the city, insisting that the Dunya would be forever thankful for the gifts. He gave up when Khalid finally discovered that the shop was in fact run by one of Khabash's wrestling partners.

Khalid and Dimitri met with Lydia in the same garden house that they ate in during their last visit. Satiah and Farjad stood guard at the door. They all exchanged awkward greetings before the guests entered.

"How do I look? Do I make a convincing sardar?" Lydia queried with a grin while sitting stretched out in a manner that only Soraya could make look natural. She then straightened up. "My mother has over twenty years on me, but she somehow contorts her body into positions that I can only dream of. I really need someone to help train me on this."

"I'm confident you'll make an excellent sardar someday, but I don't think matching your mother's flexibility is a prerequisite," Khalid replied as he and Dimitri sat down across from her.

"I suppose that's true. I'll just have to find my own signature poses." Lydia then gazed ruefully at the meal between them. "I'm sorry that the food isn't as good as you remember. They've been a bit stingy, with the incoming siege and all."

Khalid promised, "It's not an issue. We just planned this trip a couple of days ago, so it's not like we've been getting our hopes up for months."

"That's good, at least. Isn't your brother here, too? James… he's the lesser bad one, right? Was I rude not to invite him?"

"You have the justification of only knowing me personally, but it's possible that some people will interpret it as a slight against him," Khalid admitted as judiciously as feasible. "Also… I don't remember complaining about my brothers to you."

"You didn't, but word gets around. I guess anyone who dislikes my decision will just have to get over it."

Staying on the subject of who was present or absent, Dimitri pointed back at the door and asked, "Was it your idea to have Satiah and Farjad as lookouts?"

"Yes, it was. I like them, so I try to keep them close. It hasn't been the same without Khabash, though. It's all business with those two now. I asked them to do their job inside the door, but they wouldn't have it. Their excuse was that they can identify and stop threats quicker out there, but I think they just don't want to talk with us."

Khalid declined to address the subject, as there was a decent chance that the two sentries could overhear the conversation. As they began to eat, he instead inquired, "How have things been here at the palace with the sardar gone?"

"In a word- boring. Who knew the end of the world could be so dull?"

Khalid's eyebrows rose. "End of the world? That's a bit dramatic, even by your standards."

"Is it? Do you think your uncle is going to peacefully retire to the Dunya if he becomes king? More likely he's going to launch that full-scale invasion across the Throat he's always dreamed of once he has the full strength of Almyra at his calling. He's going to worsen relations with literally every foreign power."

"I think Ghalib is more pragmatic than zealous. His goal is to win Almyra, which he felt unduly deprived of… not conquer Fódlan or anywhere else. I know he plays up the conflict on the Throat to portray himself as some sort of hero, but it's all just a means to an end."

"Yeah, the mirza is probably feeding into the prejudice about our western neighbor just to boost his bid for king. But feed a wyvern too much, and she won't take it well when you return to the regular diet. This beast has been getting overfeed for centuries now, and your uncle has crossed the point of no return. If he doesn't want to look like a two-faced liar, he might just have to launch that attack. And if he thinks he could win, he'd be all too willing to oblige." Lydia then chuckled with a shrug. "Sorry, I stole that spiel from my mother. I think she's right, though. Speaking from experience, I'm definitely not enjoying the change in diet here."

Khalid smiled to himself. He actually shared many of Lydia's concerns, but he wanted to test her.

Dimitri mused, "I still don't understand why your people hate Fódlan so much. There's antagonism towards Almyra back home, but that's the result of the constant incursions. Why did Almyra invade in the first place?"

Lydia turned to Khalid for help, so he illuminated, "It happened over a century ago, so we only guess the details. But from what I've read, it sounds like we found Fódlan to be arrogant and unwelcoming. They were radically devoted to their church and would accuse us of being irreligious, all while simultaneously blocking devotional objects of our own from being traded across the border. They also mocked our inexperience in magic but showed no interest in any of our own innovations."

Dimitri concluded, "As unpleasant as that sounds, it is hardly a sufficient justification for a war."

Khalid nodded in agreement. "Almyra has a long history of warring, so we didn't require much provocation. In fact, Almyra wasn't particularly friendly with anyone until recently. We've made progress since then, but relations with Fódlan were already soured beyond repair. The construction of Fódlan's Locket certainly didn't help."

"Fódlan's Locket was supposed to deter invasion, not welcome it," Dimitri noted.

"That was Fódlan's logic. But from the perspective of Almyra? It's a testament to cowardice. Instead of bringing the fight back to us, which we'd actually respect more, the garrison just sits up on an easily defendable position. Ghalib's soldiers are goaded into believing that the occupants are a bunch of dastards living on fine dining, waiting to invade just as soon as we show any signs of weakness. The fort is like a beacon asking for trouble. That might sound strange to someone from Fódlan, but it's important to try understanding the other perspective. Few among Fódlan's leadership have shown much interest in doing so, and that failure starts with the archbishops. It's easier to just write us off as faceless brutes."

Dimitri put a hand on his chin. "I see your meaning. If we did our research, Fódlan would discover that the raids on the border represent just one region of Almyra in a delicate political balance, not that the entire land is incapable of seeing reason. We have a terrible habit of only looking insular and assuming the worst of anyone else. It's the same rush to judgment that caused the punishment of Duscur."

Lydia added, "The same can be said for us. That's why you're having us team up with Brigid… isn't that right, Khalid? So we'll see that our perspective might be misplaced?"

Khalid grinned proudly as he cut off a piece of pastilla and moved it to his plate. "What do you mean, my princess? I just looked for the most logical ally."

"True, but someone once told me that there's always an extra reason for anything you do," Dimitri observed.

Khalid laughed as comfortably as he could, hoping the comment would be forgotten if he didn't make too much of a show about it. "Be careful whom you repeat that witticism to, or it could be interpreted rather ominously."

Once they finished the meal, Lydia called for their guards to enter. Farjad and Satiah made for a rather grim duo, but Lydia still asked chipperly, "Could you see our guests to their room? Prince Khalid, Dimitri… Until next time!"

The walk started as awkwardly as expected. If Satiah and Farjad were all about business now, Khalid figured it was best to start there.

"What are your assignments in the upcoming missions?" he asked them.

Satiah revealed, "Wyvern scout deployed from one of the leading patrol frigates. My job will be to identify and relay the enemy fleet's position and size to Senusret. It's going to be one of the most dangerous jobs out there. If I'm shot down, or even if my wyvern suffers an accident, there probably won't be anyone around to help. But at least my fate isn't dependent on someone else's leadership. The outcome all lies with me."

She did not directly blame Khalid for Khabash's death, nor did she mention him at all. Still, the implication did not go unnoticed.

Farjad's answer was more charitable. "I have a generic assignment to join the flagship, but if you wanted me elsewhere for some reason, I'm sure Senusret could make that happen."

Khalid told him, "No, it's fine. I was more concerned that you might be the one wanting to avoid us."

"You're worried that I don't trust you anymore?" Farjad smiled ironically. "Part of me doesn't, but I know Khabash would tell me to give you another chance. And thus, I shall."

"Khabash was a great man, and I let him down. I'm sorry," Khalid told both guards. "It's a small consolation, but at least it sounds like his memory is being upheld."

Satiah shook her head sadly. "Not exactly. People have been pouring out sympathies to my father, and I've heard references to the death of the 'grand vizier's son' multiple times. But it's like no one knew his actual name. Khabash wanted to be remembered as the bridge between Dagda and Almyra, not as the son of an official."

Khalid comforted, "There's time for that yet, once we can end the fighting and reflect on the lives that were lost."

Satiah suddenly stopped and said off-handedly, "People always declared that I was the more talented sibling, but it was my brother who really believed in something. I admired him for it. Khabash was so sure that you would become king one day, and that you'd usher in an age of understanding. He really believed in you, Prince Khalid. And look where that got him."

Everyone stared in response to her outburst. Satiah exhaled deeply and apologized, "I'm sorry for speaking out of line. I… think it's best that I be going now. Farjad, I trust you can take them the rest of the way."

Satiah quickly bowed and left without waiting for a reply. Farjad remained unmoved with a guilty frown plastered on his face.

"How are you holding up, Farjad?" Khalid asked, hoping to make some sense of his emotions.

Farjad bit his lip before waving Khalid and Dimitri to follow him out onto a balcony just off of the hallway. So long as there were no guards passing on the wall below, they had some measure of secrecy.

He began, "It's been rather different for me than Satiah. Khabash, you know… Well, there's no point in denying it. The truth is… I didn't respect him. I know that sounds horrible, and it is. He was my friend… or, at least, I enjoyed spending time with him. But at the end of the day, I thought he was an unremarkable person who liked talking big… that he was something of a joke I spent time with for entertainment during an otherwise dull job. I was certain he'd discover he wasn't as brave as he thought at Sous River." Farjad crossed his arms and shuddered. "What a prideful ass I made of myself. When it came down to it, Khabash fought valiantly while I was the one who cowered. He was the hero he wanted to be, but history won't record it. He died in an unremarkable battle that the world already wants to forget."

"He died saving my life," Khalid reminded. "If we can win this war, that's going to stand for something."

Dimitri added, "Khabash treated me as an equal from the very beginning, long before I gained any recognition as the Tempest of Fódlan. He was fascinated by my heritage, not suspicious of it. Compared to the welcome I was given by many others... well, he was the kind of person who is impossible to forget."

Farjad nodded but otherwise remained silent. That gave Dimitri the chance to ask, "After the battle, you told me that you didn't sign up for what you experienced there. Were you forced to join the Sardar's Guard?"

Farjad snorted. "Not literally. I joined as a form of escape. It was a time of peace, though. I thought I would be running errands, standing guard during boring conferences… things like that. I was not prepared for the hell I got instead. There's a village downriver from the site of the battle, you know… they had bodies floating into town for days that had to be fished out. That was seconds away from being me."

"What did you hope to escape from?" Dimitri asked, choosing to focus on that rather than Farjad's distraught musings.

Farjad did not immediately answer. At long last, he sighed and asked, "Have either of you ever seen the tanning pits of Astane?"

Dimitri shook his head, while Khalid admitted, "Only briefly."

"Not surprising. The district might look like a pretty place to take a dip in all of the multicolored pools if you hold your nose, but that's far from the reality of it. It reeks, and the work environment is awful. My father took me to visit them once when I was a kid. We lived all the way across the city, which seemed inconvenient given how important the pits are to our income. I soon learned why, though. When we arrived, several of the workers were pulling a body out of one of the pools. Apparently, the man had collapsed into it and drowned after being overcome by the fumes. And if that wasn't bad enough, I overheard a woman mention that it was the second time it had happened that month. That night, I swore to never take over our leather business. No other trade would have taken me, as they would have seen me either as either a plant for my father or someone predisposed to disloyalty. Joining the guard seemed like the only option that wouldn't dishonor me. Had I thought things through, maybe I would have been patient so I could transform the culture when I took over, but the situation seemed hopeless to me at the time."

Khalid knew the Almyran economy was to some extent propped by bad labor practices, but he was affected by the visceral imagery of Farjad's story. It reminded him of a time when he spoke with a young Almyran serving at Garreg Mach named Cyril. Cyril retold how his life in Almyra had been harsh, and that war had left him orphaned and eventually captured by Fódlan's forces. It was obvious that Cyril's parents were Votary converts from the Tabarzin steppe, but Khalid couldn't say much without risking his identity. Khalid hoped to end the raids on the Throat, but his focus had been his desire to restore diplomacy with Fódlan. Until then, he didn't fully appreciate how his father's failure to moderate Ghalib's behavior was affecting the common Almyran. Stories like those of Cyril and the forlorn tanners were necessary reminders that his goals needed to solve more problems than those he encountered firsthand.

"Did you share your feelings with your father? Or better yet- Sardar Soraya?" Khalid asked Farjad.

"He told me it was a tragic but necessary sacrifice to keep Shomal's economy thriving. It seemed to me that a market underpinned by such suffering isn't worth saving. It's not the place of a guard to make requests of the sardar, but yes, I did mention my thoughts on the conditions there once. It's not like anyone else will."

"And what was her response?"

Farjad shrugged. "She was sympathetic, and she said she'd try to do something. I never heard more on the subject, but that wasn't a surprise. Sardar Soraya was born a girl to a mother from the harem, and she was humiliatingly married off to our conquerors at a young age. She's become popular despite all of those disadvantages, but she's only held onto power by avoiding outbursts or stepping on too many toes. I think she's done the best she can for someone in her position. Maybe I could convince her if I could lay out a solid plan."

Khalid probed, "Is that something you're working on?"

Even in the dark of night, Farjad's eyes visibly lit up. He whipped out a notebook from within his coat and handed it to the prince. Khalid was unable to make out the details, but he could perceive that the pages were overflowing with text. Some items were crossed out, and additions had been made in many of the margins.

Farjad described, "Most of it is gibberish, but the basic premise I keep coming back to is that while a single worker might be considered expendable, the whole workforce acting in unison could press for change. What if the entire populace of the pits refused to come back to work until pay was better or hours were shortened? A few workers could be replaced with vagrants on the street, but a total loss of experienced tanners would force a shutdown. It's not that the government needs to constantly interject into business affairs- the populace can regulate itself if it's given the power to do so. All Sardar Soraya would need to do is guarantee protection from retaliation. I'm still trying to figure out how to get everyone in agreement on an unfamiliar concept like this, though… especially without tipping off the elites who would try nipping the plan in the bud." He then added nervously, "Neither of you would do that, right?"

Khalid handed the book back to Farjad after Dimitri decided he had no chance of discerning any of it. "Of course not," the prince vowed. "I appreciate the need for secrets, and I'm sure Dimitri won't give you any trouble. If I were to ever become king, I'd do whatever I could to aid your cause."

Dimitri reflected, "In Fódlan, the Church often intercedes when such matters get out of hand, especially with our government in disarray. But if the people had the power to stand up for themselves… well, I think it is an admirable idea. Who better to address the suffering than those who know it best? Certainly not someone sitting on an encrusted throne."

Farjad bowed in appreciation. "Thank you both. I'm not qualified to fully understand their situation, either, but I think it's my responsibility to make sure their voices are heard. Now… I shouldn't take any more of your time, so if you're ready, we can continue on to your rooms."

Dimitri walked inside their quarters when they arrived, but Khalid stopped at the door and faced Farjad. He told their guard, "You know… Despite whatever was in your heart, Khabash always saw you as a friend. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to be better, but I know he died on good terms with you."

"Everyone would have me believe otherwise but… you're a good man, Prince Khalid," Farjad replied with a subtle smile before departing.

Rather than the single room from last time, the princes and their retainers were given apartments all connected by a large sitting room. This suite likely once belonged to the royal harem of Shomal. James and Amin had returned at some point during the dinner with Lydia and were chatting at a set of couches.

"How was your meal?" James asked the newcomers.

Khalid answered, "Good enough. It probably wasn't much nicer than whatever you had, if it makes you feel any better. I know you said it's fine, but I'm sure Lydia didn't mean any offense by only inviting us."

"Maybe, but if she's your friend, then I'm sure she has some idea what your life was like growing up. And if she does, then yes, she has every reason to dislike me."

Khalid had nothing convincing to say that would make his brother feel better. James smiled and glanced at Amin. "Could you give my brother and I some space?"

Dimitri understood the command also applied to him. He and Amin set up a nardshir board at the opposite end of the room so the brothers could talk in relative privacy.

"We've had very few chances to talk one-on-one without all of the drama of court to deal with, haven't we?" James observed.

"True. I don't think it's been a major priority for our leadership given the fact that we're at war."

"Maybe it should be. A bit of filial love would have prevented the war in the first place, if you think about it. Our uncle wouldn't have been so eager to attack father and blame you, and Abbas wouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"Ha! When you put it that way, I can't argue. Our relationship probably needs the least rebuilding, though. What happened when we were kids, James… even then I understood that Abbas put you up to most of it. He was always the instigator."

"I know, and maybe you hated me less for that reason. But I was just as guilty. Can someone really be called a good person when they allow evil to run unchecked? I don't think so." James scratched his neck uncomfortably. "I want to apologize. Truly. Even when you first came back, I didn't stand up to Abbas. I want to be better, but I can't promise I'll always succeed."

"No one can, James, but I think you underestimate yourself."

James frowned. "… Change is a difficult thing, Khalid. Our family didn't peacefully sway Saba and Shomal to accept your mother or give up the harems- we had to crush them or be crushed ourselves. Over twenty years later, and we're still having to deal with people who won't accept who you are. As for me… during the Dékhomai incident, I was abducted just to be used as a bargaining chip- a role I failed at. The Dékhomai were decent people, Khalid, and they almost all died… just because their neighbors couldn't accept fellow Almyrans with slightly different beliefs. I promised myself to start standing up for what was right when I was finally brought home, but here I am… still struggling to overcome those same fears."

"Don't worry about that. You're here now, and you're willing to endanger your life for the sake of my plan. That says a lot."

"Ha! Perhaps. Or I might just feel safer here, getting to spend most of the next couple of months sailing freely instead of risking it on the ground day in and day out. Plus, we've got the Tempest of Fódlan with us. Just how did you find him, anyways? I know there was some kind of battle. Did you leave together?"

"Not exactly. After it was over, I went looking for survivors. Dimitri was the only one I found."

"That's some luck. Do you know what happened to him?"

"All I saw was a shoulder injury that I treated while he was unconscious. I don't think it would have been enough to knock him out, though, so it was probably a combination of that and exhaustion."

James leaned back and beckoned, "Dimitri, could I borrow you for a moment?"

Dimitri apologized to Amin for delaying their game and approached the pair of princes.

"Sorry to interrupt, but my brother has piqued my curiosity. What happened to you before Khalid found you on the battlefield? Were you hurt?" James asked.

Khalid's muscles stiffened. He had never told Dimitri what had truly transpired, and he was fortunate enough that Dimitri seemingly accepted the original story without much critical thinking. James's question risked changing that.

Dimitri's face scrunched up in thought. "My memory of it is clouded. The last thing I remember, I saw the body of… well, a friend. I then charged after the emperor. I encountered several of her soldiers along the way. One of them must have knocked me unconscious."

Khalid nearly breathed a sigh of relief as Dimitri seemingly finished, but his retainer's eye squinted again. "No, actually… I remember being hit in the back of the shoulder. I had an injury there. It must have been an arrow."

James observed, "A shot of the arrow able to penetrate your armor but not completely impale you… you're fortunate to be alive."

"I suppose I am. Still, I'm surprised a single arrow coul-."

Dimitri stopped as his eye darted at Failnaught in the corner of the room. After a moment of silence, he asked lowly, "… How much do you know about poisons, Prince James?"

James shrugged. "More than most, probably. Khalid poisoned me when I was sixteen. I don't blame him, really. Abbas and I deserved it. But as you could imagine, I tried to ensure it never happened again."

"How did you go about that?"

"I studied poison composition so I'd know if Khalid had any ingredients in his possession. I learned how to identify smells… for those that have a smell, at least. And I tried to keep antidotes handy."

"Perhaps you can answer a question for me, then. Do you know of any poison that could quickly knock someone unconscious for several hours? Maybe it would even lower their pulse, but otherwise, there would be no serious side effects."

James's head bobbed back and forth. "They're rare, but I could name a couple that fit that description, actually."

Dimitri's fist curled into a ball as he turned towards Khalid. James observed this, too, and he quickly stood up.

"I-I'm feeling tired, so I'm going to call it a night. See you tomorrow," James said nervously as he began to back away. He motioned for Amin to follow him as they retreated towards their rooms.

So much for standing up for what was right. Khalid understood not wanting to stand in the way of a furious Dimitri, though.

Dimitri began his uncensored reaction by pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and muttering, "I can't believe it took me this long to realize what happened. You've been manipulating me this whole time… saving my life so you could drag me to Almyra for your personal use."

"You're overthinking this, Dimitri. Yes, I shot you with a poisoned arrow. Full confession. But I did it because I knew you were about to get yourself killed for nothing, and that's an outcome I wouldn't wish for anyone. Especially a friend. I won't deny that I wanted you to return here with me, but had you chosen to stay with the Resistance Army, I would have left without another word."

"If your motives were so pure, then why lie to me?" Dimitri growled.

"Because I didn't know how you would react!" Khalid retorted with arms held wide in exasperation. "Do you have any idea what you were like back then? I was worried that if I told you, there was a fifty percent chance you would immediately cut me down for keeping you from 'fulfilling your destiny' or some other nonsense. You've changed, but there's never been a good moment to come clean."

It was nearly unfathomable that Khalid had to justify saving someone's life, but his companion's face thankfully softened. Khalid felt almost shameful for being able to flip Dimitri's judgement against himself so easily.

Dimitri muttered, "… You're right. I don't know what I would have done, either. My thought processes from that time seem blanketed in an impenetrable haze."

Dimitri stood and walked towards the window. As he gazed outside, he said in a dark voice, "The truth is, I have a confession of my own. You see… the Adrestian army was our sole target when we marched onto the field. I had no interest in fighting you. But when things turned chaotic and our soldiers were entangled, you all became nothing more than stumbling blocks between me and my goal. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I believe I ordered my soldiers to cut your army down along with the Adrestians. My people were far more invested in destroying the Empire, so I don't know how closely any of them listened to my delusions. Even so… I gave the order."

There was a pause. Khalid then quietly asked, "So, when we came face to face out there… did you want to kill me?"

"No. I didn't. And had I looked the rest of your soldiers in the face, I probably wouldn't have wanted to kill them, either. That's why I taught myself to never look them in the eye."

The Almyran prince put his hands on his head and began to pace the room. Dimitri watched him demurely, seemingly ready to accept any punishment.

Khalid wanted to absolve Dimitri of guilt, but his heart and mind were not quite in synchronization. He pictured the faces of his friends. What if that assault from Ingrid and the other pegasus knights that killed Ignatz hadn't been an accident after all? Khalid did not believe that any of his other friends were killed by Kingdom soldiers, but had Dimitri behaved rationally or at least had the decency to stand aside, maybe the Alliance could have won a clean victory. Some of his friends would still be alive. There was no doubt that some of the soldiers under his command had been killed by Kingdom militants, and as leader of the Alliance, Claude von Riegan was responsible for the fate of each one. And here he was, playing friends with the man who had caused them so much trouble.

And yet…

Khalid stopped his pacing and told Dimitri, "Like I said, you've changed. This revelation doesn't alter that. I don't know if I'll ever be entirely comfortable with that knowledge, but I think it's the right thing to try. Since then, you've been my most important ally… or better yet, my most important friend. I can't forget what happened at Gronder, but… I'll remember what you've done after it more." Khalid chuckled at himself. "That sounded a bit ridiculous, didn't it? I'm not taking it back, though."

"I see," Dimitri muttered. After a delay, he said, "I know my deeds have not been not enough to repent. Until the time I have atoned, if such a thing is possible, I am in your debt. You… shouldn't apologize for saving me. Perhaps it would have been best if I died there, but then again… maybe I didn't deserve to get off so easily. I'll make the most of the life you've given me. But Khalid… no more secrets or lies. I mean it. I promise that I have no more of my own."

If he was to be entirely honest, Khalid needed more time to fully process his feelings about what happened at Gronder. But since there was nothing Dimitri could do to fix that, telling him that would accomplish nothing other than leaving Dimitri hurt. Without much guilt over withholding that detail, Khalid went ahead and told him, "You have my word."

"I'm glad to hear it. And I'm sorry for dragging us into this conversation when we have more important matters at hand."

"Heh! We both share responsibility for this talk, but I think it's best that we get it out now. You know, face that trauma head on."

The two men both sat down. Khalid then said with a sigh, "To be honest, this trip is going to be stressful. Not because of the weather or anything like that… it's just the knowledge that Almyra's fate hangs in the balance, and we'll have no idea what is happening beyond our horizon. Imagine if we make it to Brigid and secure the fleet, just to learn that our armies back home have surrendered."

"We have no choice but to trust that they'll do their jobs, just as they trust us," Dimitri decided.

"Yes. Trust," Khalid repeated. He did not understand how Dimitri made it sound so easy, but he liked the idea. He added, "We've just got to keep our heads up, because worrying isn't going to help. I guess it wouldn't hurt to send them a prayer or something. It's not like we've got anything better to do for the next month other than sleep."

Khalid jumped up and started towards his room. "Which, if I might add, sounds like a rather appealing idea right now. Rest up, Dimitri. And… thanks for being here. I mean that."