Golden Zero16- Claude and Dimitri arrived in Almyra on 5/15. The last chapter took place on 8/30. So it's been about three and half months. That time jump is discussed some at the end of Chapter 12 and beginning of Chapter 13. With regards to the events of Fódlan, that puts Chapter 14 as the day before the final chapter. Edelgard is dead, but they haven't gotten the news yet. But don't worry, they won't stay in the dark forever!

Chapter 15

Day 2 of the Blue Sea Moon, 1175 (Fódlan Calendar)

"Finally, some equestrian training!" Khalid cheered as he followed Nader towards the Dunya's stables. "It's been nothing but lance work for a week. I was beginning to worry that Abbas convinced you and my parents that my future is on the frontlines of the infantry."

"I wouldn't get too excited," Nader warned.

Khalid immediately stopped when he saw that his parents were waiting outside the stables. That could only mean one thing. His fears were realized when Nader pulled a rope off of its hook in one of the stalls. Khalid was about to be reinitiated in one of his parents' exercises. The objective- to pull himself onto a horse's back after being dragged behind it by a rope linking him and the saddle. This would go on until one of the three adults declared it a failed attempt and calmed the horse to a stop. Khalid had never succeeded in getting off the ground. How was he ever supposed to make it past the horse's hind legs?

Faruq used to ride the horse himself and provide advice. When Khalid began making progress, though, the king began to send the horse without a rider so the saddle would be open for his son. There were almost no obstacles to speak of out in the open fields, but leaving a loose horse to run wildly still seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. This particular horse was seemingly trained to hold a steady gallop for a long time without a rider for just this scenario, which Khalid decided was a remarkable waste of time.

"The reward for a week of mundane lance training is to get my face flayed against the dirt while being dragged by a thousand-pound monster?" Khalid asked them all. As much as he hated using a lance, trying to improve his skill with one would a better use of time than this. Not to mention, less painful.

"Thousand pounds?" Tiana repeated doubtfully. "Cut that in half. In Fódlan, this is the size of what we'd call a pony."

"And I thought you'd finally mastered how to not tear yourself up while doing it," Khalid's father pointed out.

"I mean… technically yes," Khalid admitted. "With the right grip on the rope, you can definitely get from the point of being helplessly out of control to just… out of control. But that grip doesn't get me any closer to the saddle." He then sighed loudly. "Do I really have to do this?"

Faruq shook his head. "You're looking at this all wrong if you think it's something you just have to do. Think of it as an opportunity. Shahid and Abbas were both sixteen before they managed to do it. Shireen and Fahima never got the chance. James gave up. That means you can be the youngest member of the royal family to pull this off. Imagine getting to hold that over your brothers!"

Khalid slumped in resignation as he joined Nader in the stall, who had already tied one end of the rope to the horse's saddle. As Nader began to tie the other side around the prince's waist, though, he said in a quiet voice, "Stop trying to tackle this conundrum like Abbas would. Use your head, not your muscles."

"Yeah. Are you suggesting that I debate the horse on the ethics of this show?"

"There's more to being smart than running your mouth. You've got that much covered, kiddo. Someone smart also recognizes the tools at his disposal and how to use them."

Khalid stopped to think for a moment. He then asked Nader, "You don't happen to be carrying a knife on you, do you?"

The Grand Agha grinned as he pulled out a small dagger that Khalid then stuck into his belt. "If they ask, this came from the palace's general arsenal. That's where I got it," Nader told him.

They nodded in unison before Nader led the horse out of the stall where Khalid's parents could see them. They all then walked away from the buildings to reduce the risk of the horse bolting inside.

"You remember why I have you do this, correct?" the king asked his son.

"Because you think it's funny," Khalid answered, even though he knew the answer his father was looking for.

Faruq felt the need to repeat his excuse. "King Harun… the great-grandfather of my great-grandfather's great-grandfather… was so insistent that he never be unhorsed that he would tie himself to his saddle before going into battle. He pulled himself back up just like this before striking down King Romanos to win the crown for Elam. This exercise is in his honor."

"Is that tale even true?" Khalid asked doubtfully.

Faruq shrugged. "I don't know. My father told me the story when I was a kid."

"So he tied you up like this, too?"

"Oh, of course not. This was all my doing. Speaking of which, it's about time you get going."

"Wait, wh-."

Faruq had been such a distraction that Khalid overlooked his mother slipping around the other side of the horse. She gave a loud blow on a sorna that startled the horse into a jog. Khalid quickly grabbed the rope before it could be yanked taut.

Despite his efforts, Khalid was soon being dragged across the steppe surrounding the Dunya. He tried to ignore the laughing adults behind him, but he couldn't help noticing that Nader had joined in despite his assistance.

Khalid immediately tried to implement his plan with the dagger, but the situation had unexpected complications. His traditional grip on the rope required both hands, so unsheathing the dagger resulted in him painfully bouncing out of control. The dirt and grass being tossed up into his eyes then made it difficult to position the dagger against the rope.

The young prince eventually managed to find the correct angle just long enough to slice through the twine. He skidded across the ground several more feet before finally coming to a stop. He then cut off the section of rope still tied to him.

The horse quickly slowed once Khalid was free, probably confused about the sudden change in weight. Khalid hobbled over to the horse and carefully calmed him down. After doing so, Khalid pulled himself up onto the saddle and rode back to the others.

Despite the plan's success, Khalid was still annoyed about his bruising body until he saw Nader and his parents applauding his return. That validation quickly put a smile on his face.

"So that was it? That was the trick all along?" Khalid exclaimed as he dropped back down and hugged his mother.

Faruq laughed. "Nice try, but no. That… wasn't what I had in mind, to say the least." He then knelt down beside Khalid and beamed brightly. "That being said… at the end of a battle, there's a winner and there's a loser. And today, you're a winner. I only ever specified that you had to get on the saddle… not how. How you pulled it off doesn't really matter. The only rules on a battlefield are those imposed by a lack of imagination."

"Make sure you tell Abbas that," Khalid requested. "He won't accept my methodology otherwise."

"Who said your brothers need to know how you did it? My lips are sealed. Tiana, Nader… how about you?"

"I'll acquiesce to the wishes of our new champion," Tiana agreed.

Nader joked, "I value my head, so I'll be 'acquiescing' to the king and queen."

With that settled, Faruq put an arm around his son and began to lead him back towards the palace. "Let's get you something to eat," he said.

"And a fresh set of clothes!" Tiana added.

Nader put up a hand to stop them. "Before you go, Faruq… It's time to pay up."

The king sighed as he reached down into a small sack of coins at his waist. "I was rather hoping you had forgotten about that."

Khalid wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it seemed that the king and the Grand Agha had some form of bet going on, with Nader putting his money in favor of Khalid's success.

Nader laughed triumphantly. "What I ate for lunch yesterday? I'll forget that. Wife's birthday? Probably best that I don't. But I'll never forget an opportunity for some gold."

"You didn't give my son any ideas on what to do, did you?" Faruq asked as a last hope for an out.

"Of course not! Why would you even ask that?"

While the king looked at his palm to count out coins and the queen was facing the other way, Nader winked at his pupil. The boy returned the wink with a smile.

Fate's Interception - Day 6 of the Horsebow Moon, 1186 (Fódlan Calendar)

Change is sometimes a gradual process, while other times it rushes into existence with upmost haste. A mountain may erode slowly in the wind and rain, or it may rupture in an unexpected earthquake.

There are exceptions, such as Dimitri, but swings in personality usually transpire through the gradual method. Such was the case for King Faruq. Despite having a seven-year window for changes to accumulate, Khalid did not fully appreciate how much his father's personality had shifted until after their visit to the Mirza's Citadel.

Khalid knew getting dragged around by a horse was a rather strange experience, but he did not realize just how strange it was until he saw how aghast Hilda was when he once mentioned the memory to her. Cultural differences were a large part of the equation, sure, but it was far from the only ridiculous thing his father had come up with during Khalid's childhood.

But with age comes maturity. Faruq had a family, and with his two daughters having died young, he wanted a safe future for his remaining children. A policy of strength was traded out for a policy of tolerance, allowing events to transpire in Meteora and the Tabarzin that his younger self would have boldly stamped out. With that, Faruq had to bear the guilt of every wrong committed under his watch, wearing down the lingering spirit of the daring prince. And as he grew older, the vexing question of the succession loomed larger. The dilemma became even more complicated when Shahid was killed. The queen also made it clear just how hard Khalid's long absence drained his father's spirit.

That was perhaps the cause for Faruq's vulnerability to his brother's stratagems. Ghalib's games and shows painted over caution and responsibility with nostalgic bravado. It was easy for Khalid to see through Ghalib's plans, but family loyalty can cultivate near-incorrigible lapses in discernment. Khalid never got along with his brothers, so he did not have that issue, but Ghalib and Faruq were said to be inseparable in their childhood. Those bonds are not so easily broken.

Khalid's first priority on the way home was to help his father discover the error of trusting Ghalib. The journey back to the Dunya was not scheduled with nearly as many stopovers as their route to the Tabarzin had, but they were not rushing the trip, either. On this particular day, the royal entourage had stayed overnight at the Attali estate after a long hunt in the Mikdash the previous afternoon.

The Attali estate was large enough to house a full hunting party, and it was quite comfortable. Compared to the Dunya or many of the great houses of Istakhr, though, it was not ornate. Quarries were scarce in the area, and being the wealthiest family in the Mikdash wasn't high praise considering most inhabitants were in deep poverty. There was little economy to speak of, and the nebulous nature of jurisdiction in the area between Elam and the Tabarzin left the forest without much oversight.

They would soon be departing, but the king insisted on finishing a peaceful breakfast as he reviewed some letters. He was dining in one of the house's courtyards with no one in attendance other than a few servants guarding the perimeter. It was the perfect opportunity to speak to him in a private setting for a few minutes.

Despite the aforementioned difficulties with James and Abbas, it was becoming increasingly obvious that persuading their father of Ghalib's dubious intentions would be impossible without a unified front. Getting Abbas to listen to him alone would be difficult, so Khalid first approached James and asked him to have one of his servants request a visit from Abbas.

Khalid tried to make conversation with James while they waited. "I saw where you got to eat beside your mother last night. How was that? I can't imagine you get to see her often."

James crossed his arms. "I've only seen her a couple times this past year. It was a bit uncomfortable, honestly. I feel obligated to talk with her, but it's like we live in entirely different worlds. I didn't really know what to say. Tell her about how great the Dunya is?"

Khalid did not know much about Miriam Attali, as James rarely spoke of her. She had never married, but bearing a prince of Almyra secured the Attali's place in high society, so she was free to live a comfortable life at home. Khalid found her agreeable enough from their brief interactions. It was perhaps unfair to judge that experience against having her as a mother, though.

"I'm sure father would be fine with her visiting us every so often," Khalid recommended. "That would help cut down the divide."

James shook his head. "It's best this way. My mother's people aren't as hated as yours, mind you, but the Mikdash is still often treated with suspicion. The hard truth is that the less I'm seen around her, the better."

Khalid frowned. He understood his brother's dilemma well, but it was difficult to watch James push aside his own mother for acceptance. Khalid had no good response to it, however, as James clearly knew the consequences of his actions. He lived it.

Abbas soon strode through the open door. His face darkened when he saw Khalid. "And I thought I could trust you not to play tricks on me," he told James. He then turned to his youngest sibling. "What do you want? Let me guess… you need my help telling father that our uncle is a piece of human debris?"

Khalid reasoned, "Abbas, you know as well as I do that it will have more impact if we do it together. It looks at least a little less self-serving."

Abbas was silent for a moment. Then, rather than directly agree with Khalid, he claimed, "I already figured that on my own. Just… try to not make things any worse."

Khalid and Abbas then looked to James. He had an uneasy expression that worried the other two brothers.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" James vocalized. "Even together, we might just make him angry. The one time we finally work together on something is when we all benefit. Some impression that's going to leave."

"We don't have time to worry about impressions," Khalid insisted. "If Ghalib thinks our father might change his mind, it would be to his benefit to assassinate the king as soon as possible. Father's safety is more important than our reputation."

James frowned but conceded, "Alright. I'll go, but don't blame me if it goes awry."

Khalid smiled to make up for the lack of enthusiasm from his brothers. "Good, so it's settled. I believe my mother is elsewhere right now, so we'll want to wait unti-."

"Wait? Why would I want your mother there?" Abbas interrupted.

Khalid explained, "If there's anyone who can help him see reason, it's her."

"I don't care," Abbas answered plainly. "Relying on your mother is a sign of weakness. It's not her position to decide who father picks. If we can't do it ourselves, then we don't deserve the crown."

"This isn't about the crown. It's abo-."

"It's me or her," Abbas insisted brusquely. "You can't have both."

Abbas's ultimatum put Khalid in a bind. And if Abbas wasn't there, James might drop out as well.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," Khalid relented.

With this compromise, the brothers set out on their mission. The soldiers guarding the entrance to the courtyard quickly granted them access. Faruq was sitting on a carpet beneath a sprawling oak tree. Stacks of parchment were neatly lined up alongside several dishes of food. More than anything else, though, his focus was on a glass of tea. With the exception of a small following in the far reaches of Saba, the art of brewing tea had been nothing more than a novelty in Almyra until very recent years, which would have come as a horror to Lorenz and his Adrestian counterpart, Ferdinand. With an increasing number of imports coming from Shomal, though, the market was suddenly flourishing.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you three to form an alliance," the king said without looking up from his reading. "I will repeat what I've already told you all individually. What I said about Ghalib was an offhand remark. I assure you, nothing about the succession is official."

"That's not how people saw it," Abbas replied.

"Let them interpret how they want, then. The less time everyone in this land spends worrying over who I will decide, the better. Perhaps we can find some normalcy this way."

Khalid shook his head. "We're not asking you to name an heir. Just release a statement confirming what you just told us. I don't think that's so unreasonable."

Faruq dropped the parchment and looked up a bit peevishly. "I'll tell you what's unreasonable- constantly overexplaining myself to people hanging onto my every word. I'm not looking to start a bad precedent by adding a list of addendums each time I open my mouth. Not to mention… Ghalib has been ever loyal, and he hasn't come begging to me for answers like moping hyena. Why shouldn't it be Ghalib?"

"Ever loyal?" Khalid challenged. "As I've heard it, he was one of mother's first critics. He would have dragged her back to Fódlan without a second thought."

Faruq nodded. "He had some concerns which he shared with me. But at the end of the day, he set those aside and fought for my cause. If anything, that only further demonstrates his loyalty."

"And what of the Almyran blood that has been spilled on the Throat because of his vainglory?" James asked, finally showing some support for the siblings' cause. "You want a peaceful future for Almyra. How can you hope for that with someone like Ghalib in power?"

That at least forced the king to pause. He tapped his spoon on the rim of a bowl before finally answering, "Ghalib believes a constant display of force is necessary to remind Fódlan of our strength, lest they begin to consider an invasion of their own. I don't agree, but it's not my place to interfere with how he governs the Tabarzin. If I were to name him heir, I would first discuss my vision for diplomacy with Fódlan. Returning to the Dunya would also leave him too far away to personally continue the raids."

James did not accept his answer. "And that wouldn't change who he is. Nothing will change what he is. Father, you have to understand-."

"I understand quite well what this is. It's an ambush. To think that I would raise three such entitled children!" Faruq pointed them towards the exit. "Leave, and I'll hear no more about this."

Faruq did not outright shout, but the three sons understood not to test him any further. They all obeyed his command without another word. Once the door was closed behind them, they stepped out into another yard rather than crowd the hallway.

"That went as poorly as possible," Abbas noted.

"Like you said, we deserve what's coming to us. I guess that means you're ready to kneel at Ghalib's feet now, right?" Khalid said as he looked to his oldest brother, earning a scowl from Abbas.

Rather than bask in the knowledge that his warnings were merited, James muttered, "Father will come around. Just give him some time."

"Don't count on it," a woman's voice interjected. "Trust me, once you've been deemed entitled, it's difficult for anything you say to be taken at face value."

At the moment, Nousha was sitting with a book in hand beside a nearby fountain. Khalid recognized the volume, which was a survey of historical battles. Nousha was with Grand Agha Demetrius. She likely wanted Demetrius's opinion on the formations and outcomes, but he looked more interested in finishing off his wine.

Khalid struggled to keep his groan inaudible. Why was Nousha always present at the worst times? Apparently, he was not the only one irritated to see Nousha. Abbas told her, "No one asked for your opinion. It's not your business."

Nousha smiled humorlessly. "Of course you didn't ask, because you've never cared for anyone other than yourself, Prince Abbas. But it's true that it isn't my business. All that matters is what the king says, and the king has spoken. In that way… it's not really your business either, is it?"

"What are you doing out here?" Khalid asked quickly, hoping to advance the conversation before Abbas could attack her.

Nousha pointed a thumb at Demetrius. "The queen thought it would be a good idea if I shadow our Grand Agha today for experience. Can't you tell how enlightening this opportunity is for me?"

Demetrius laughed as he took a quick sip. "This is the most 'enlightening' experience I can provide you. You already have a sharp mind and a quick blade… or quick mind and sharp blade? No, the first way was better. What you need to learn is how to relax a little."

Nousha slammed her book shut in disgust. "And how am I supposed to relax sitting next to a slob drinking away any little facility he has left? If that's your command, I'll gladly relax elsewhere."

"I won't try to stop you, but you won't have much time to get settled before we leave."

"Then perhaps this time is better spent preparing my belongings," Nousha sighed. She turned to the others. "Prince Abbas, Prince James, Prince Khalid… Please excuse me."

Once she departed, Demetrius lifted his cup in Nousha's honor and took a dramatic gulp.

"I see why father thought she was unqualified to be named Grand Agha," Abbas grunted. "I hope you'll be kinder to us, Demetrius. What are your feelings about that farce back at the citadel?"

Demetrius took another sip as he thought. He finally admitted, "Ghalib could fill me with Almyra's entire supply of spirit, and it still wouldn't make me drunk enough to call him 'king'. But let me medicate here in peace, or the limit of my patience might drive me to feel the same about you."

Abbas wasn't quite sure how to respond. Demetrius was drunk, but the man had grown so accustomed to being in that state that he could simultaneously be surprisingly articulate. The brothers agreed to Demetrius's request, though, as they split up and returned to their quarters. When Khalid arrived, Dimitri and Ariella had just packed the last of their belongings. Ella had actually left the estate the previous night so she could spend it with her family, whom she had not seen in six months. She told Khalid and Dimitri about the visit until one of the guards informed them that final preparations were complete.

The formation of the royal entourage had been kept largely the same for the entire journey, with small modifications made depending on the size of the road. There were three carriages driven single file- one for the king and queen, one for the Custodian of Istakhr, and one for the princes. These carriages were protected by the Shakiriyya- the elite royal bodyguards. They rode on horseback, cushioning the carriages on all sides. The rest of the servants rode by horseback behind the final carriage. The leather-suspension carriages were far too costly to be provided for everyone. They were somewhat more popular in Fódlan where the shorter travel distances made them more practical, but even there, they remained luxuries for the rich.

When Khalid and his attendants reached the carriages, they found Qadir in debate with Khatereh, commander of the Shakiriyya. This short-haired woman in her mid-forties had formerly been an attendant to Tiana during the queen's early days in Almyra. Qadir was sharing some grievances with her.

"As Custodian of Istakhr, it is absurd that the princes are receiving as much protection as I am," Qadir contended. "They even have the more senior guards! My safety is of far greater importance if none of them will be the future king."

Given that they would only enjoy Qadir's company for a few more days before separating, Khalid did not want to miss out on the chance for another one of their delightful conversations. While Dimitri and Ariella parted to mount their horses, the prince put a hand on Qadir's shoulder and pointed out, "If proximity to the succession is the basis for value, Qadir, we may as well strip you of protection altogether. At least my brothers and I would be back in the conversation if something happened to my uncle… assuming he was formally named heir, which of course never happened in the first place."

Qadir smiled. "That doesn't deserve a response, but I'll remind you that my position carries weight of its own, unlike that of a futureless prince."

"Who says it has to be futureless? Even if I'm not king, I could be a leading contender for the next mirza. I trust I'll have your support to help get me out of Elam for good?"

Qadir squinted uncomfortably, probably trying to reconcile the logic behind Khalid's words with his distaste of the prince. He decided to ignore the subject instead as he turned back to Khatereh and prompted, "Now, back to my earlier question…"

"I am sorry, Lord Qadir, but the matter is beyond my reach," Khatereh answered. "I have the authority to implement the king's wishes, but an outright shift in strategic goals must be approved by the king himself."

"Huh," Khalid uttered as he put a hand on his chin. "Well, Qadir, you are welcome to ask my father if you'd like. After all, if he thinks we're just futureless princes, he will surely agree with your judgment. Or are you afraid that's not how he actually feels?"

Qadir glared at Khalid and muttered, "The king knows best, as you'll eventually find out. Enjoy your jokes while you can." He then jumped into his carriage and slammed the door shut.

Perhaps Qadir wouldn't hate Khalid quite as much if the prince just learned to keep his mouth shut, but it was simply too amusing to challenge the man's self-important habits. Maybe his teasing would make Qadir a better man someday? Probably not, but it was a good excuse for Khalid's conscience.

With his daily quota of entertainment fulfilled, Khalid hopped into his carriage and waited for departure. Within fifteen minutes, Abbas and James were aboard, and the convoy was on the road headed east. The terrain was somewhat varied at first as they passed through several fields and hamlets maintained by servants of the Attali. It was not long, though, before they were again shrouded in the dark trees of the Mikdash.

The people who inhabited the woods had resided there for centuries, using the trees as a deterrent to the wars waged outside. It felt a bit like a dungeon to Khalid, but to those who lived inside, it was held as a sanctuary from a chaotic past. The mythologies of the Mikdash led some historians to theorize that they were a remnant of the once-great civilization from the Tabarzin. What was undeniable, at least, was that their isolation had spurred the development of their own unique habits and customs. For example, they shared most beliefs with the Almyran Old Ways, but they also alleged that the division between the physical and divine worlds was less absolute as characterized elsewhere. Many dabbled in meditation and magic as methods to directly tap into the mystical. Khalid asked Ariella to explain their theories to him on multiple occasions, but he could never make much sense of them. All he could gather was that the beliefs seemed harmless.

Khalid found himself once again trying to grasp the theology of the Mikdash due to a lack of suitable distractions. The constant creaking of wheels on the road blocked out any other noise, and other than occasional asides about the weather or road conditions, the three princes had little to say to each other.

In the end, the only common interest between the brothers was their desire for Ghalib's downfall. Their alliance was not entirely dissolved despite that morning's failure. After several hours on the road, Abbas abruptly recommended, "We could try putting on a show for father or something. If it worked for Ghalib, it could work for us."

Khalid and James glanced at each other in acknowledgement that the idea was terrible. Even so, James humored him by asking, "A show about what? What other event in his life could ever stir up as much emotion?"

When Abbas fell silent upon realizing his plan was weak, Khalid leaned back and said with a grin, "Who says that the event has to be true? Half of our uncle's story was fiction. Father wasn't chosen to be king because he won the Battle of Astane. He was chosen because he demonstrated the qualities of a ruler. He showed initiative and integrity when making a stand against the harems. He was wise enough to know that unifying Elam was just as important as assaulting Saba, and he was clever enough to plan and execute a daring crossing of the Maranjab to avoid the bulk of Shomal's armies. Ghalib's entire world is built on a horribly reductive interpretation of what happened."

"You don't have to convince us," Abbas grumbled.

James mimicked Khalid by trying to lounge, though it didn't look as natural for him. "Instead of whittling away what's left of the day worrying about it, how about we take Demetrius's advice and relax a little? Maybe we'll come up with a new plan after clearing our minds a bit."

Abbas snorted. "My mind won't be clear unti-."

He was unable to finish his sentence before a sudden blast rocked their carriage, tossing Khalid into James's lap. Several other explosions followed in succession from up and down the convoy.

Once regaining his balance, Khalid threw open the door to see outside. The situation was already utter chaos. This particular spot of the forest was dimly lit, with the darkness punctuated by burning leaves and lit arrows that were being loosed from among the trees. The fire arrows were being aimed at horses and unattended wagons rather than their carriage. A roar of voices rose as hordes of assailants began to pour out onto the road.

Seeing where wood splinters had been embedded on the outside of carriage, Khalid quickly concluded that the blasts were the result of detonated barrels rather than magic. He also suspected that the initial explosions were more likely intended to kill the soldiers outside or just cause general mayhem since the interior of the carriages were not seriously threatened. It was unclear how many members of the retinue had been killed, but chaos had certainly been achieved. It is difficult to make commands over the noise of the shouting enemy and the crackling fires, and many of the soldiers were trying to wrestle control back from their spooked horses.

Khalid was in no immediate danger. Each assailant split to either the left or right, leaving their carriage completely untouched. The foes were dressed like nothing more than simple bandits- their faces were covered, they carried only a weapon or two, they bore no kind of armor, and their movements did not suggest any kind of formal training. There was too much evident planning in the scheme, though, to pretend this was a normal robbery that just so happened to victimize the royal entourage by coincidence.

Khalid was nearly knocked to the ground when Abbas rushed through the door with sword in hand, looking for someone to fight. Seeing where three other swords were stored in the case of such an event, Khalid reached for one and followed shortly behind. James looked so paralyzed in fear that he might as well have been nailed to the seat.

Khalid's first priority was determining the status of Dimitri and Ariella. They were positioned closer than his parents' carriage, and the king and queen would have far more protection. Khalid scurried towards the horses in the back, but he came to a halt when someone grabbed his leg. He looked down to see Ariella hiding behind the wheel of a supply wagon.

"Wait, Khalid!" she shouted. "I can help if you find me a weapon."

He shook his head. "You had the right idea by hiding. Don't move unless this thing catches fire. That's an order!"

She heeded Khalid's warning and withdrew her arm. It was merciful that no effort had been made to breach Khalid's carriage, or Ariella would almost certainly have gotten herself killed by trying to intervene.

Khalid found Dimitri nearby in the midst of a number of bandits, cutting down each as soon as they drew close. He was easily identified by the glow of Areadbhar.

"For the blood of my father!" Dimitri yelled as he spewed all sorts of incoherent lines related to Duscur. He drew the attention of many assailants in the area as they sought to avenge each friend that fell to his lance. Eventually, they gave up any hopes of killing him and began to flee.

"You didn't spare any of the helpless that day. Did you think I would?" Dimitri said as he grabbed one of the bandits in retreat by the neck and crushed the man's head against the trunk of a tree.

There was no denying the abundant similarities between the current attack and the Tragedy of Duscur. Those parallels had clearly disturbed Dimitri's state of mind. Rather than risk being confused for a foe, Khalid decided to let his retainer handle the situation and turn his focus back to the head of the entourage.

To reach the king's carriage, Khalid first had to pass by the one belonging to the Custodian of Istakhr. While Qadir's guards engaged several bandits on the opposite side, two men were crawling into the carriage as someone inside screamed for them to stop. Khalid rushed over and cut one foe down with his sword while flinging the other out of the door with his free hand. This man rolled back onto his feet and angrily drew a knife. When he saw Khalid's face, however, his countenance turned uncertain. He hesitantly took two steps back and then ran away.

Khalid found this reaction strange, but there was no time to dwell on it. He looked inside the carriage where Qadir was rocking back and forth.

"Qadir! Qadir, you need t-… Qadir?"

Khalid finally realized why the Custodian of Istakhr was moving so unsteadily. He had assumed the man was stupefied by fear, but Qadir was actually holding a hand around his throat trying to plug a gaping wound. Qadir's chest had also been pierced near his heart. He could no longer speak, but he stared at Khalid in disbelief for a moment before collapsing.

Khalid stumbled away from the carriage, his coat having been stained by blood already dripping out from the open door. He would make no pretense that Qadir was a friend, but no one deserved to die like that- choking, confused, and with only a detested rival for company.

Standing around would help neither the dead nor the living. Khalid continued his race to the front of the convoy, but his heart nearly stopped when he heard an anguished scream and a flurry of curses up ahead. It was his mother's voice. The king and queen were protected by the most experienced soldiers, but Khalid did not apprehend just how heavily the bandits focused their efforts on breaching that line. It seemed that some had gotten through. Tiana's cries did not sound weakened, so it was more likely that her distress was on behalf of someone else.

"Damn it! No!" James yelled as he came sprinting in Khalid's direction. Hearing Tiana's scream must have finally given him the courage to leave his shelter. The two brothers stormed towards the king's carriage together ready for fight, but most of the bandits had already been pushed back when they arrived. Khalid sliced off the hand of a bandit engaged in combat with one of their soldiers, but Tiana and the Shakiriyya already had the situation under control. Despite a tremendous amount of exertion, their enemies could not have breached the carriage for more than a moment or two. Like those that had challenged Dimitri, the surviving bandits quickly abandoned their efforts and absconded into the forest. Some of the soldiers went after them in pursuit, while others began to huddle around the royal carriage. Something was unfolding there.

Khalid and James had to press their way through the mass until the guards finally realized who they were and moved aside. Just beside the carriage door, they found King Faruq lying on his chest, the back of his blue silk robe now saturated red. He showed few signs of consciousness. Tiana sat beside him, her face sprayed with blood likely belonging to one of the enemies that she had just cut down. She was applying pressure to her husband's back with both hands; even so, dark blood poured out from between her fingers in a constant flow. It was not spurting in dramatic fashion, but it was drawing out at a fatal rate.

"He'll be dead within minutes," Tiana despaired. Her timbre was surprisingly steady, likely because there was no sense of hope. The king's fate was already sealed. Several of the soldiers looked around for someone capable of treating the injury, but no one there felt qualified. Of course, they were all correct- the wound was beyond natural healing. Shame was written on each face.

There would be time to consider the ramifications of Faruq's death, but in the moment, the man sprawled on the ground was a father and husband, not a king. While Tiana continued to hold one palm on the wound instinctively, she wrapped her other bloodied hand around her son's shoulder comfortingly. Abbas was nowhere to be seen, probably still engaged in combat too far away to know what was transpiring. James vomited upon seeing the mess, forcing one of his retainers to guide him out of sight. Tiana and Khalid would have to stay with Faruq to the end alone. The queen looked like she was about to let go of her grip on Faruq's back so she could pull him onto her lap. That way, he could die in her embrace rather than cast out on the dirt…

"Out of my way!" someone yelled as there was scuffling in the crowd. A few seconds later, Agha Demetrius pushed his way to the front and knelt down beside the king.

The queen mumbled, "What are you do-."

Demetrius forcefully intruded, "Trying to save his life, if I can help it."

Tiana backed away rather than question him. Demetrius then closed his eyes and lifted a shaking, scarred hand above the king's back. His palm radiated a soft glow, and his face strained with exertion. It was unclear if anything was even happening until Tiana wiped away the blood that had pooled on Faruq's back using her shawl. They could then see that the gaping wound had been partially closed. Blood still oozed out, but without as much impatience as before.

Demetrius finally drew his hand away and informed, "It's only a weak spell. I can't help it any more. This should buy him a few hours, but he will still die if he doesn't find help. The damage is severe."

"Help?" Tiana cried, panic creeping back into her voice. "This is the Mikdash! You won't find anyone qualified to treat this within two hundred miles!"

"The Ashen Angel…" Khalid exhaled to himself. Ariella's tale of an unparalleled healer living in the forest hadn't impressed him at the time, but there was no better option. He yelled, "Are you back there, Ariella? Let her through!"

Finally realizing that they were being an active hindrance to the rescue efforts, the survivors back away in all directions, freeing up visibility. Ariella ran to Khalid's side and knelt beside him. She must have finally left her hiding place once the situation was clearly under control.

"The Ashen Angel. Do you know how to find her? How far away does she live?" Khalid quickly questioned.

"Y-yes, I know the way. It's… twenty, or thirty miles from here?" Ariella answered as her voice shook. She was clearly not prepared to burden such a responsibility, but she was trying her best.

"Then it's our only shot. Someone, find our two strongest horses! Ella, you ride with me. We'll need someone stronger to bring the king."

Khalid stood to get a better view. Dimitri had started at the back of the convoy, but the collection of enemies towards the front had drawn him closer. He was now within earshot, looking around frantically for someone else to kill.

"Dimitri? … Dimitri!" Khalid yelled.

There was a delay lasting a few seconds before Dimitri blinked and turned his head towards Khalid. "What?" he asked as he moved closer.

"My father is badly wounded, and I need someone who can carry him. Are you in shape to follow me on horse? Speed is critical here."

Dimitri subtly nodded, which was not the most decisive answer he could have given. Khalid questioned, "Do you understand what I'm asking?"

Dimitri nodded again absentmindedly, but Khalid insisted impatiently, "I need a verbal answer. I won't hesitate to find someone else if you're not all here."

"Yes, I can do it," Dimitri reiterated. He looked more focused this time.

"Good. Then help me get our king off the ground and onto this horse."

Khalid knew his tone was harsh, but there was no time for niceties. Thankfully, Dimitri did not complain as he moved to Faruq's side.

First, Faruq was finally given a few temporary bandages. Several of the Shakiriyya were now eager to help and recommended that they handle the king's transport. Khalid quickly brushed them off by pointing out that they needed Ariella as their guide, and she would be most comfortable riding with her lord. Ariella had some riding experience, but sending her alone was not practical. She wasn't skilled enough to ride at the speeds they needed, and her health was a concern. As for Dimitri, not only was he the strongest person present, but having him carry Faruq would maintain the synergy of their team.

With Faruq ready to be moved, Dimitri lifted the man into his arms effortlessly. The king stirred and groaned a bit as he was carried, perhaps because blood flow had somewhat stabilized or as an effect of Demetrius's spell. This was a most fortunate development. If Faruq was at least semiconscious, they could try transporting him sitting up with Dimitri's aid. This position would make the journey much less arduous than if they had to lay him out over the horse's back.

As Dimitri, Khalid, and Ariella advanced towards the assembled horses, Tiana scrambled to her feet and told them, "I'm coming, too."

Khalid only paused long enough to allow Ella to mount the horse first. He advised his mother, "You can follow, but more people will only slow us down. Someone also needs to lead the pursuit of any surviving bandits. We must take some alive if we're going to confirm who called this strike."

Tiana frowned, but she let logic rule the day. "… Right. I'll be of more use to him by taking charge of that. How will we find you?"

"If there's no one else here who knows the way, return to the Attali's and ask for directions to the Ashen Angel. I'll also send Ariella back this way as soon as I can."

Dimitri was given the horse deemed the strongest since their cumulative weight would be greater than that of Khalid and Ariella. Ella sat behind her lord with her arms wrapped around his back so she could order directions into his ear. Conversely, the king was situated in Dimitri's lap so he could be provided support as needed.

Khalid glanced behind him to ensure that Dimitri was ready before giving his horse a kick. They first had to pass through the wreckage of the entourage, where a few people remained locked in combat farther back.

After passing the chaos, though, the journey quickly became eerily quiet. Other than the sound of the horses' hoofs beating the ground and the occasion whistle of wind through the trees, there was no indication that anything lived in that dense wood. After what just happened, that silence portended danger rather than peace. Khalid's senses were too occupied looking for threats to reflect on the recent experience. He did on occasion blame himself for not immediately heading for his parents, but he would just as quickly push those thoughts away.

Ariella had nothing to explain for the first half of the journey as they retraced their steps towards the Attali estate. Once she directed them onto a side path, however, they were soon weaving between roads ranging from obscure to forgotten. The horses were not fond of the abrupt turns, and Faruq's body was surely not given any favors by the poorer terrain.

As they rode, Khalid lost any sense of time. The surroundings seemed to darken, but he could not tell if the sun was setting or the thickening canopy was blocking out the light. How much longer could it take? If they had been traveling for as long as it felt like, was Dimitri already riding with a corpse?

"This is it… this is it… Stop! Khalid, stop!"

Ariella had to repeat her order due to Khalid's confusion. As far as he could tell, there was not a home in sight. After he reeled around and dismounted, however, he finally spotted a single hazy light through the trees. As he brushed the branches aside, the outline of the establishment revealed itself. It was a small building that encompassed no more than a room or two. Not only was it dark outside, but the entirety of the wooden structure appeared to be covered in thick moss that helped it blend into the foliage. It would have been more obvious that someone lived there had they approached from a different direction, as a horse was tied up outside around the corner.

Khalid held the branches back as Dimitri pulled up and rushed towards the house with Faruq in his arms. The king's face flinched uncomfortably, confirming that life had not yet left him. Rather than knock, Dimitri hurled the door open by charging at it with his back.

The woman inside had been writing something in a book before their arrival. Her face was difficult to see under the tangle of ginger hair, but her astonishment was conveyed by her quill flipping into the air and off the table. She stood and tried to survey the situation, but Khalid explained all of the important details before the questions could commence.

"This man has suffered a grievous sword wound to his back. We've closed it up as much as we could, but he's still bleeding out." Khalid spoke quickly, but he tried to avoid doing so frantically. His voice finally cracked as he added, "Please, do something! His survival is absolutely critical."

"R-right!" the Ashen Angel replied. "Help me clear this table, and then lay him on his back."

Khalid and Ariella worked together to clean the area as requested. It was an utter mess of books, loose papers, and half-empty vials, which did not do much to invoke confidence in their doctor's abilities. Once the table was finally free of clutter, Dimitri carefully laid Faruq facedown after the woman unrolled a sheet over the surface and placed a cushion for his head.

"I need help from all of you," the woman said. "Could you grab that bottle from over there?"

She made this request to Dimitri, but for some reason he decided to stare at her with mouth agape rather than follow the order. Khalid was worried that his retainer had slipped out of lucidity again, but he then realized that the Ashen Angel was gawking at Dimitri in equal astonishment. She then looked towards Almyra's prince.

Khalid's whole body froze when he finally got a good look at her face. Between the unexpected red hair and his absolute focus on saving his father, he had disregarded key evidence that should have minimized the shock. The expertise in healing magic, the well-groomed horse outside, the utter mess inside, and her ashen skin…

"… Marianne?" Khalid gasped.