You would not *believe* how tempted I am to title this chapter Freaky Deaky Zane, if only because I'm desperately running out of ideas.

Freaky deaky Zane. Sigh...

Hello, everyone! I hope this Spring season is bringing you all lots of warm weather and green grass! :)

Lake Laoki

Despite the heavy weariness in Cyrus' countenance, his blue eyes were as bright as ever as he greeted High General Santi outside the old barn at Lake Laoki.

"San," he said, smiling. Around him and his horse, snow fell in large white clumps. "It's wonderful to see you."

Santi left the wide doorway of the barn and ran through the deep knee-deep snow to reach up and take his old teacher's hand. "Cyrus," he replied, smiling just as warmly. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."

"Did you really think I wouldn't come, friend?" Cyrus squeezed Santi's gloved hand in his own. He surveyed the landscape and adjusted his frosted spectacles. About a hundred yards beyond the two-story barn was a long, flat stretch of frozen lake under several feet of snow. "Beautiful estate," he remarked. "You thinking of starting a farm?"

"Ha ha." Santi chuckled dryly. He did not own this property- in truth, he didn't know who did; only that it had been abandoned for a number of years. In the summer, Lake Laoki was a popular wading and picnicking place for many Northerners, but this time of year nobody ever traveled this far into the woods. Unless, of course, they had something to hide.

Santi stepped back to make room for Cyrus' two escorts, who unstrapped Cyrus' legs from the specially-made saddle and carefully- almost reverently- helped him get down from his horse. Hooking their arms under his shoulders and legs, they carried him to the barn. Santi ran ahead and ushered them into the dilapidated building. Inside was just as cold as out- he could not start a fire without risking bringing the whole structure down on top of them- but at least it was out of the snow. Light flooded in through the open doorway: the doors had long since been torn off their hinges by windstorms.

"Set him down here," Santi said, gesturing to a hay bale that he'd dragged from a forgotten corner of the barn upon his arrival earlier that morning. The two men did so, and Santi helped Cyrus get comfortable. "Are you warm?" he asked, making sure Cyrus' large, thick cloak covered his legs.

"I'm fine," Cyrus said, waving the High General off. "Please, San. Thank you. Sit down." He turned to his two men. "It's all right. Go tie up the horses outside, please."

As the pair of men left, Santi sat on an old milking stool. These were hardly respectable conditions for men of their status- a High General and a former advisor of Lord Julien- but this was the best Santi could do, considering the circumstances. Cyrus could not be seen in public. The roads leading to Lake Laoki bypassed every major town in the North, so their route here would be as secure as could be expected.

"First off," Santi began, "I want to congratulate you."

"For what?"

"For your success in nearly eradicating the plague here in the North." Santi leaned forward on the low stool, planting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "Of course, I feel that a part of that credit should go to me as well, since I've been working hard to take as many of my Northern soldiers off the roads as possible to keep your Nurses from being discovered and arrested."

"I've noticed. Thank you for that," Cyrus said, dipping his hooded head once.

Santi harrumphed. "You're welcome. But I have trouble seeing why you couldn't let me in on your plans, Cyrus. I mean, one day you're Lord Julien's top advisor, and the next you're leading an open revolt against the King and withdrawing to your secret fortress. Why did you do that?"

Cyrus' eyes darkened. "It's a long story," he said. "One that I would like to share at a later date, when the wounds are not so fresh." He sighed, looking beyond the falling snow outside. His expression took on an oddly hard, almost mournful mien. "I have good news, though. Liana's back."

Santi's heart leaped in his chest. He and Liana had been good friends for a number of years. Her kidnapping at the Dark Knight's hand a year ago- and the murder of Cyrus' wife- had shaken him greatly. "That's wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "Is she all right? How did she escape the Dark Island?"

"She came back with Lady Pixal about a month ago," Cyrus answered. "She's all right. No lasting damage. If God permits, once this war is over you can come and see her."

The only thing keeping Santi from jumping to his feet and shouting for joy was Cyrus' strange conduct. With some effort Santi tempered his excitement.

"You don't seem all that excited about your daughter's return," he said. "What's wrong? If she's not hurt, then-"

"I'm okay, and so is Liana," Cyrus said. "Thank you for your concern, but it's not pertinent to our meeting today. Another time, all right?"

Santi nodded, regarding his older friend with concern. Moons, Cyrus. What has you so upset that you can't be joyful about her return?

Cyrus took a deep breath. His troubled expression faded, but Santi could still see the pain behind his pale eyes. "My Nurses told me the reason you called me here was because of the plague," he said.

"Ah- Yes," Santi said. He cleared his throat and began his carefully prepared speech. "You have the antidote to the plague. Most of the North, as I already said, has been healed. Rumor has it that the South has taken an alliance with you, and Nurses are busy at work there as well. But the Middle hasn't been so fortunate. Do you know why that is?"

Cyrus quirked his eyebrow at Santi's obvious question. "Because of Garmadon's tight security," he answered. "I only dared to send one team to heal inside the Middle's borders, and they barely escaped the Guards their first night. I haven't sent any back since."

"Yes. Instead of accepting your help, the King ordered Lord Julien's doctors here in the North to create their own antidote." He lowered his voice reverently. "But in Lord Julien's valiant search for a cure he fell ill and, regretfully, passed several days ago. I became Regent in his place. Now, the duty falls to me to make sure a cure is found and properly distributed- not only in the North, but in the other two realms as well. And I think I may have found a way to do it. But I need your help."

Cyrus' eyes glinted behind his spectacles. "Yes?"

"I want to buy your formula to make the antidote," Santi said. "I know a good doctor who will gladly take the formula and reproduce it for us. He will take the credit for its 'discovery.' And Garmadon will allow it to be distributed throughout the Middle."

Cyrus was smiling. He rubbed his cold-reddened cheek with a gloved hand and chuckled softly. "That," he said, "is why I didn't let you participate in any of my schemes."

Santi's face paled. "…What?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, San! I'll give you the formula- I'll gladly give it to you for free, if it means that the Middle will be healed. I'm simply saying that you are of more use to me as a High General in charge of an entire realm than as a High General stuck underground."

Seeing Santi's confused expression, Cyrus continued. "I wanted very much to let you join me," he said. "And I've missed you. Tremendously. But you have proven yourself invaluable where you are right now, San. I knew from the beginning of my revolt that you would remain loyal to our cause, no matter what the King did, and would do everything in your power to keep me from being discovered. And so I deduced that the safest thing for all of us was for you to know as little about me as possible, so your motives could not be called into question."

Santi blinked slowly, absorbing Cyrus' words. Contrary to what he'd been fearing all winter, he'd been kept out of the plans because Cyrus trusted him.

"I'm still sore that you didn't tell me anything," Santi admitted. "But thanks…I guess."

Cyrus chuckled again, breath rising from his mouth in white plumes. "Thank you very much for calling this unprecedented meeting, Santi. Ah…if I had not been so busy with my own troubles inside the fortress, I might have thought to send the formula to you days ago. Meet my courier at the dock by the river that runs behind your keep. Tonight, at sundown. He will have it for you."

Santi had never doubted that Cyrus would accept his proposition, but the fact that the deal was done filled the Northern High General with so much relief that he had to fight emotion from misting his eyes. The end of the plague was finally in sight. The deaths of people like Prince Lloyd, Lord Julien, and countless others would no longer occur.

"Moons," he said, standing to shake his old mentor's hand. "I don't even know what to say, Cyrus. Thank you. How much should I pay you? Please."

"Bah. Money is dirt," Cyrus replied. "For now, nothing. It wouldn't do for Garmadon to discover any large amount of money suspiciously gone from the Northern realm's coffers- or even your own private funds. We can discuss a price after the war is won, if you insist." He paused, then smiled even more broadly. "Ah, yes. Forgive me for not mentioning this at the start- I feared sharing the news would distract us from the purpose of our meeting."

"What news?" Santi asked.

"I ah…received a letter from Jay last night, delivered by Lady Pixal's Bird. They bring news from the Dark Island."

Santi raised an eyebrow. "That's a string of words I never thought I'd hear together… What are they doing over there?"

"Not just them," Cyrus said. "Lord Kai and the former Dark Knight are there as well. Jay says that Overlord has been defeated."

Santi sank back into his seat, speechless.

Overlord had been ruling Keitorin for nearly sixteen years- more than half the time Santi had been alive. Terrible or not, Overlord had become a fixture in his life. The never-ending problem that kept Ninjago on its toes, fearful of the next time his forces would come to kidnap, pillage, and destroy unchecked.

And now he was gone? Just like that, out of the blue?

First the South's secession, and now this. What going on?

"Are they certain?" Santi asked. "How did they do it?"

"The letter didn't say much on the subject, except that his demise was Lord Kai's doing," Cyrus answered. "Jay says it's a story he'd like to tell in person. He requested a ship be sent with men to help rebuild, and supplies to repair the…" Cyrus trailed off, waving his hand with a light sigh. "Ah…details. I won't burden your mind with those. But isn't this wonderful news?"

"Oh, unquestionably!" Santi smiled. "Who knows so far?"

"Only you so far," Cyrus said. "I'm not sure how that news would factor into this…er, tense situation between the realms, and wished to give the news to you, Misako, and Driniah before deciding how to continue. Regrettably, you three are the only leaders I can trust at this time."

"Knowing that Overlord is gone might be just the news the people need to diffuse the tension," Santi said. "Without proof, however, I can't see anyone believing us…" Another sobering thought occurred to him. "How do you know that the letter you received was really from Jay? It could be a ploy by Overlord."

"I know. I am sending a ship West before dawn tomorrow with only a few Nindroids, and about half of the materials requested in the letter. If Overlord is truly dead, I should know when they return in about two weeks- if the weather allows. The letter also says that Lord Kai, among others, are eager to come home on the first available ship."

Santi let out a slow breath, relieved. If Kai, the Red Knight, defeater of Overlord, and rightful Lord of the South, could not bring order back to Ninjago, no one could. He'd better get here fast…

Besides. Having the Southern Lord back meant that Zane could return to the North, and then Santi wouldn't have to be Regent anymore. By Beun's beard. How did our country's situation ever become this convoluted?

It would be wonderful when things finally returned to normal again.

At noon, Peran and his weary company stopped outside the Blue Cat Inn. Leaving their horses tied out front, they hurriedly entered the large establishment to escape the cold. The last to enter, Akins pulled the door shut, and they all stamped snow from their boots. The low ceiling and warm, roaring fire on one end of the large common room gave the inn a homey, welcoming feel. Peran breathed deeply.

According to hearsay at the previous inn, the Southern Lord Rector and King Garmadon had come here the night before with a mysterious girl. Who else but Varasach? Peran prayed that the crude rumors he'd gathered about their stay here were incorrect, especially since the Southern Lord Rector, of all people, was involved in Garmadon's schemes. Anyone with a lick of intelligence knew that the self-centered snake of a man was not to be trusted. Peran could only hope that the King still had enough sanity left to realize that much.

"Can I help you?" a serving girl asked, hurrying from the kitchen on the far end of the mostly empty main room to meet them.

"A table, please, if you serve food at this early hour," Peran said. "We've been traveling since before dawn and need a quick rest."

The serving girl hesitated only a moment, examining the bedraggled company. If her impersonal expression was any indication, she did not realize that she was in the presence of a High General. Which, at least for the moment, suited him just fine.

"We normally only serve drinks until after five," she said, touching her fingers together. "But you do look in need of a meal. I'll make an exception- for a little extra cost. We have some ah…boiled potatoes, and I could fry some sausages? My name is Malia."

"Potatoes and sausage sounds great," Saer said, and the others murmured their assent.

"Add some hot drinks, too," Peran said, dropping two silver coins in the woman's hand.

As Malia hurried back the way she'd come, speaking inaudibly to other hands in the kitchen, the soldiers sank tiredly into chairs at a round table near center of the room. Peran examined the interior: aside from a few scattered patrons quietly drinking ale and other beverages, and the two bored-looking guards seated near the inn's entrance, the main room was empty. But Peran judged by the faint patter of footsteps overhead that there were maids busy cleaning rooms upstairs for the patrons that would be arriving this evening.

It amazed him that there were still people brave enough to travel these days. What with the plague and threat of war, one would think everyone would be holed up in their homes waiting for the trouble to blow over.

Peran caught his fingers tapping the tabletop impatiently, and he stopped himself, sighing internally as he sat back in his chair. His four companions looked just as antsy: Kolin sat with his elbow on the table, stroking his beard, gaze somewhere faraway. Saer was watching the fireplace. The heel of Li's boot tapped the floor in an unsteady cadence, and Akins busied himself fiddling with his sleeve cuffs.

"I don't understand why we're doing this," Kolin said after a while. "We know that Vara is likely at the King's Keep. So why hamstring our own cause by stopping at every possible place they could have gone two mornings ago?"

"Because we don't know where the King went for certain," Peran answered. "It's good to gather as much intel as we possibly can before attempting a rescue- especially where the King is involved. He can be unpredictable."

Kolin still looked skeptical.

"Surely you understand what the High General is doing," Akins said. His bright, youthful brown eyes smiled at Kolin, though his mouth stayed flat. "If we weren't stopping to ask questions, we wouldn't have known that the Lord Rector was involved in the plot. That sounds like an extremely useful bit of information in my book. Who knows what else we may discover today?"

Kolin remained quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled. "You're right," he said. "I apologize for my skepticism, sir. I…"

At that moment, Malia returned with a tray filled with mugs. She set one before each of the soldiers with a polite smile. Her curious gaze lingered on Li, the only female of the group. She caught herself and spoke. "Fortunately, the potatoes were boiled right as you were arriving- we're preparing for dinner- so your food won't be too much longer," she said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually," Peran answered. He shifted in his seat and pulled his cloak so it fell away from his left side. The gems and intricate metalwork in his sword's handle became visible, and Malia's eyes widened with surprise. "I have a few questions about the King's stay here. What do you know?"

Malia glanced briefly at the bouncers, looking ready to cry out. But when the hired men moved to stand, she composed herself and shook her head. The large men resumed their seats, but now regarded the five soldiers leerily.

"I don't mean any harm," Peran assured her. "And it's all right if you don't know anything. But I promise you, any information you can give us will be generously rewarded."

"It…" Malia swallowed, tucking her tray under her arm. "Usually, I can't recall specific details about customers. But that day was so odd because of the Lord Rector, and the King, and that girl… Oh, what do you plan to do?" The woman's voice dropped to a whisper "The girl with the King, she… I didn't like it!"

"She is very dear to us," Peran said. "We have no desire to hurt the girl- on the contrary, I think she will be glad to see us again, when we find her."

"Please," Li piped up. "Do you have any information?"

There was something about Li's earnest brown eyes, Peran thought, that seemed to ease Malia's alarm, at least a little bit. The woman hugged her tray to her chest with both arms and looked down, as if recalling details.

"It was two days ago," she said at last, still whispering. "The South's Lord Rector came here, requesting one room. He had a girl with him. She had trouble climbing the stairs, I recall, and he nearly had to carry her up to the second floor."

Bastard, Peran cursed bitterly. If that Priest did anything to her that night…

"Did you get a good look at the girl's face?" he asked coolly.

"No. She wore a large hood, so I couldn't see much. Only that she had red hair. And she looked young, perhaps fourteen.

Across the table, Saer snorted. He saw Peran's unamused expression and flushed to the tips of his ears. Varasach's age was a lighthearted controversy between the Southern soldiers stationed at Sheshin Keep. Most argued that she was fourteen. Some dared to say fifteen, or even sixteen. It came as a shock to them when Peran stumbled into one such argument in the barracks one morning and told them that she was nearing her nineteenth winter. Until then, Saer had been in the camp that argued that she could not possibly be, as he put it, "Even remotely close to that age!"

"Go on," Peran said to the flustered serving girl. "What else do you know?"

"Um…around sundown that day the King came by, wanting the Lord Rector's room number. He also rented another room near the Priest's. The King went upstairs, and a few minutes later the Priest came down here, looking upset. He had a drink before the King joined him at that table over there." She pointed to a corner of the room. "They talked for a few minutes. Then the Lord Rector left, and I don't think he ever returned."

"Did you hear any noises from either rooms?" Peran asked.

Malia looked away. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the tray. "That night was very busy," she said. "There was a lot of commotion, and some man was singing and… Well, that's not important. Yes, I heard something upstairs."

Peran leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What happened?"

"I-I can't be certain that it was her room," Malia said hastily. "And I don't know how many others heard, either: it was faint. But maybe twenty minutes after the King went up, I think I heard crying. It went on for a long time. But I didn't see the King or the girl again that night." She seemed to want to say more, but faltered, pursing her lips.

"When did they leave here?" Kolin asked.

"The next morning," the woman answered. "Yesterday, maybe an hour after sunrise. I don't know which way they went, though."

"All right." Peran pressed four gold coins in her palm. "Thank you. That's all."

Malia accepted the money with wide eyes: this kind of money would likely take the maid half a year to earn in her line of work. "Um…thank you," she said, flustered, and retreated into the kitchen again.

Peran set his elbows on the table and clasped his hands under his chin. The table went quiet as Peran's group pondered this new information. Peran watched one bouncer rise from his seat and enter the kitchen, likely to ask Malia what the five strangers wanted, and to make sure the strange group wasn't here to cause trouble. But this was in Peran's peripheral: his focus was still on the serving girl's words.

The Lord Rector left after speaking briefly to the King, and did not return. Afterward, Vara was weeping loudly enough to be heard in the busy common room. What did the King do to her? Peran could hardly bear to consider the question. Varasach was such a gentle, joyful soul. Peran had never seen her lose her composure despite her stressful situation, being sickly and trapped in the South under the threat of invasion and war. She managed to remain calm and kind even to Zane when he flew into his fits of anger, and she treated servants with the same courtesy as the Queen. But it wasn't as if she was politely ignoring the gaping contrast of classes: it was as if the gap didn't exist in the first place.

It's easy to see how she's Kaeli's child, Peran reflected, with no small amount of pain. He tightened his jaw against a barrage of guilt.

Why did the King want Vara? Surely he didn't intend to hurt her, as he had Kaeli?

With the King's mind as shattered as it is, I suppose anything, unfortunately, is possible.

And again there was the other pressing question: where had the Lord Rector gone? The snake clearly wasn't taking his deposition from the Southern Temple sitting down. So what hole is he hiding in, and whose heel will he strike when he emerges again?

As these thoughts gathered like dark clouds before a heavy rain in his mind, Malia came back with their meal. Nobody said a word as they ate the spicy potatoes and sausage. Once they'd had their fill, they all stood, thanked Malia, and left the inn. There was nothing more to do here; they had to keep heading north, as fast as possible.

"Poor girl…" Saer murmured to himself as he mounted his horse. "What did the King do to her?" He glanced at the road behind him. In the distance, a traveler on a palomino horse trotted briskly toward the inn, a hood pulled low over his eyes and a scarf over his mouth and nose to protect against the cold.

"Is something wrong?" Kolin asked, prompting Saer to turn away from the traveler.

"No, sorry." Saer absently brushed snow from his horse's mane as he waited for the others to mount. "Where are we going next, General?"

"I'm not sure," Peran admitted as he tightened Demia's girth.

"The King can't be away from his keep for very long," Akins said. "Not with his Southern invasion to plan. If Vara was with him when he left, I'd say that's where we should search next."

"Yes," Li agreed. "Do you have spies in the King's Keep? A way for us to know if Vara's being held there?"

Peran held up a hand for silence: the traveler was within earshot now, directing his horse toward the Blue Cat. As the man came closer, Peran noticed the colors of the palomino's horse's gear and cursed under his breath.

"Green and black decorations," Kolin hissed to no one in particular. "Hosts…either that's stolen gear, or we're in big trouble…"

The man, whom Peran and Kolin had both recognized as High General Derek, wore a heavy, snow-dusted cloak dyed with the Middle's colors. He seemed in a hurry and did not notice Peran and his company right away. But Peran knew it was too late to hide: their only chance was to ignore Derek and hope he didn't notice them. He hopped into Demia's saddle and motioned for his company to hurry up. Akins hastily helped his sister into the saddle, then mounted his own.

Derek finally stopped before the inn, only a few paces from Saer. He began to dismount, but caught Peran's eye and froze. There was silence for a long moment; no one dared to move.

"Dammit…" Derek sank back in his seat at last and looked up at the sky, as if directing his curse at the First King. "What are you doing here, Clouse?"

"Enjoying a drink," Peran answered in an even voice and kicked his horse toward Derek. He adjusted the tension of his reins, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. "Yourself?"

"Trying to find something the King lost," Derek answered. "There's a war going on, Clouse. You should be with your Lord Zane."

"And you should be with Garmadon, Kav," Peran retorted. Derek scoffed.

"I should- Listen, Clouse. You need to leave. Now. This is a bad time."

Peran regarded his friend with some measure of amusement. "I'm sure it is," he said finally. "But I'm looking for someone. And I can't return to the South until she is found."

Derek eyed Peran. "You're searching for a girl, too, then," he said.

"Too?" Peran repeated.

Derek almost seemed unwilling to answer. "…Yes. A Blessed girl, with red hair."

"That's Varasach!" Saer spoke up suddenly, and Peran cringed. "She was kidnapped by the King. You've seen her?"

Derek raised his eyes again, muttering a few words under his breath. He nudged his horse closer to Peran's and spoke in an undertone.

"You're trying to take that girl back to Zane?"

"Yes."

"I can't let you do that."

"Why not?"

"Why not-" Derek struggled to find his words, waving his hands animatedly. "She's Blessed, Clouse! Surely you guessed that much. The King has plans to make her his heir. And besides that, her treatment at Sheshin Keep was inexcusable. I could never in good conscience let her return to that place."

It took a moment for Peran to digest this information. His gloved hands held the reins a little tighter. Varasach, heir to the Ninjagian throne?

"What makes you think she was mistreated at Sheshin?" he asked finally.

Derek stared him, again at a loss for words. "You really don't know?" he asked.

"No."

"Hmm." Derek was quiet for a minute. "None of us know much ourselves," he admitted at last. "I thought you would, at least." He sighed. "But that doesn't matter. Listen, Clouse. Out of respect for old ties, I'll let you five go back South, just this once. But if I see your faces again on this side of the border, I'm taking you all to the King. And he'll be far less happy to see you than I am." He moved to dismount, but Peran reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Wait," Peran said. "Is Vara missing? Where is she?"

Derek's jaw hardened before he nodded. "I know nothing," he said. "Only that she ran away from the King's Keep around sunset last night with the help of a stablehand named Zak Ganger. We assume she's on her way back to the South; where else would she go?"

Where, indeed… Peran released Derek's arm. He nodded his thanks. Derek nodded back, and they both went their separate ways: Derek into the inn, and Peran onto the highway, toward the South. Peran did not look back, but his ears told him that his soldiers had followed him.

"So…" Saer began once they'd traveled about a mile from the Blue Cat. "That's it, then? We're going back to the South?"

Peran realized that he was gripping the reins far too tight, and he released the tension. Demia stretched her neck gratefully and shook her gray mane. Overhead Peran saw a streak of black in the sky. He squinted. Was that…a bird, flying through the trees on the side of the road?

What would a small bird like that be doing out here in the middle of winter?

"General?" Saer prompted.

"Of course not," Peran answered at last, tearing his eyes from the curious sight. "We have to find Vara."

"Varasach escaped the King last night," Kolin mused, "probably right around the same time that we left the South. If she was coming our direction, I'm sure we would have passed her by now. Unless she ran into trouble…"

"Do you think she's in danger?" Li asked, alarmed. She sped up until she was trotting alongside the High General.

"They could have gotten lost," Akins said.

"Lost?" Saer scoffed. "There's only one road that enters the South, and it's nearly impossible to miss. If Varasach has a native-born guide, I doubt they're lost. More likely, Kolin's correct and they got into some sort of trouble, or stopped somewhere to lay low and rest."

"But that's exactly what the King would expect," Peran said. "And Derek's likely doing the same thing we are right now: searching inns along the main roads for clues. That's probably why we crossed paths at the Blue Cat. So Vara likely hasn't stopped at any of the inns in Derek's direction, or in ours. At least, not on the main roads."

"We should go off the beaten path and search the lesser-known stopping places," Akins suggested. "High General Derek said…" He trailed off, looking at the trees.

"Look, Li," he said, pointing at that same small black bird. Had it followed them? "What kind of bird is that? Shouldn't all the small ones have migrated by now?"

Li squinted at the bright clouds. "I don't know what kind it is," she said. "That's curious… You're right, Akins, it should be in a warmer area. Poor thing won't last the winter out here…"

"When you're done birdwatching," Peran said, "I'd like to have a word with you all about which path we should be taking."

"Of course," Li said hastily. "Our apologies, sir." But her eyes remained glued to the bird. It twittered at them and, as if noticing that they were watching it, stopped flying through the branches and instead dropped low to flutter around Peran's head. He swatted at the animal impatiently.

"Which- Aargh." The bird let out a shrill note near his ear, and he waved his hand more aggressively. "We'll head east. Toward- agh- toward the villages near the Winveda lakes."

"Yes sir," his subordinates all acknowledged, though their attention was still on that bothersome bird, which had finally given up on Peran and was chirping at the twins.

"Hmm…" Akins held out his hand to the bird, and, after a moment's hesitation, the little creature landed on his finger. "This little guy is either very well-trained, or…"

"A Bird?" Li guessed.

"We've already established that it's a bird," Peran said. "Get rid of it, Akins. We don't have time for this."

"A mechanical Bird- proper noun- from Cyrus," Li explained hastily. "He sometimes uses them to send messages."

"Do you recognize this…Bird, then?" Peran asked, scrutinizing the animal more carefully. It stared back with tiny, beady black eyes.

Akins hesitated. "No, sir," he admitted. "Cyrus usually uses larger, predatory Birds that can carry messages without looking too suspicious in all seasons. Eagles, owls, ravens, and the like.

"And does this bird look capable of carrying a message?"

Akins looked crestfallen as he gently stroked the noisy bird's feathers with the back of his gloved hand. "No, sir."

"Well then, it's a well-trained pet that escaped someone's house."

"Maybe," Kolin agreed. "But I'll admit, it does look kind of familiar… Doesn't it, Saer?"

"Yes." Saer, who had been strangely quiet during the exchange, nodded. "It looks like one of Lady Nya's pet birds."

Kolin made a noise in his throat. "Mmm. That's right. What did she call it? Perks? Checkers?"

"Cheeks," Saer murmured. "Its name was Cheeks."

The bird flew into the air. It landed on a branch a ways behind them, chirping insistently.

"I think it wants us to follow it," Akins said.

"Don't be absurd," Peran snapped. "We're not going that way again. Derek will see us. We need to go southeast, then head north again along the backroads. That's an order!" He raised his voice as Saer, Akins, and Li all opened their mouths to object. "This is a serious mission, soldiers. The fate of Ninjago may very well rest on how fast we can find Vara and defeat Garmadon. I will not entrust the fate of our task to a bird, trained or not. The next soldier to contradict me is getting sent back to the South. I wish whomever I release luck explaining to Lord Zane where you've been gone this past day, and why you came back."

In the moments that followed Peran's outburst, even that black bird was silent.

"Are we all clear?" Peran asked when he was certain enough time had elapsed to get his point across.

A low chorus of "Yes, sir"s answered him. He nodded in satisfaction and spurred his horse onward. "Let's get moving, then."

Akins shooed the bird away, and they all followed Peran.

Still smelling faintly of smoke from the riot fires, Josi stormed down the hall to Zane's study. Ignoring the startled guards, she threw the door open without bothering to knock.

"You Mena-cursed fool!" she spat before Zane even had the chance to look up from his work. "What are you doing? You have until dawn tomorrow to respond to Garmadon's treaty, and Driniah tells me you're…" She approached the desk and snatched up the paper Zane had been writing on. Names and numbers were written across it in script so painstakingly neat that Josi's blood grew hot. He was deliberately wasting time.

"I am not ignoring the crisis, Miss Maikal," Zane said. He put away his pen and stood, his blue eyes far too cool and unconcerned for Josi's liking. It was even odder when she considered how he'd lashed out at that prisoner at the justice building earlier that day. "The numbers help me to clear my head. If I deal with these smaller problems, then I will have more adequate space to concentrate on the larger-"

Josi shredded the sheet of paper and stamped the scraps into the carpet with her boot.

"Nine hours, Zane," she hissed, planting her palms on the desk. "That's how much time you have left to decide who's going to be killed. Will you surrender and exile yourself and Driniah to the Dark Island, or fight a losing battle against the Middle-North?"

"I don't think it's quite as hopeless as you-"

"It is hopeless!" Josi exclaimed. "Maybe, if you'd started planning days ago, you could have assembled and equipped a decent fighting force. But instead, there is no battle plan and no morale among the soldiers. Do they even know that there will be war tomorrow?"

"I have not said anything definite, but I have warned them to be prepared to take up arms at any moment."

"That's nowhere near good enough, Zane! Moons, even Peran has abandoned us because of your stupidity. And Cyrus-" Her voice faltered, unexpectedly full of emotion. What on earth had gotten into Zane? Why was he behaving so rashly, so unconcerned for the lives of the people under his authority?

"Cyrus…trusted you," she said at last. "He sent families here, families that trusted him, thinking that you would protect them, and use them in the fight against Garmadon. Cyrus even left his fortress largely unprotected to make sure you had enough soldiers to stand a chance against the King."

Zane opened his mouth to speak, but Josi thumped the table with her fist to silence him.

"By standing idly by instead of fighting back, you're destroyed everything that Cyrus has worked for his whole life," she said. "He was so close to victory. And…" And then she was fighting to keep tears from misting her vision, hands clenched at her sides. "…And here you came, a brave, brilliant leader who finally dared to stand up to the King's tyranny. A man worthy of wielding a Blade from the third age. You agreed to help the Way-believers, and damn it, for one bright, shining moment, we all trusted you, Zane. And this is how you repay us? Hiding in your study, bookkeeping while the broken country you promised you'd fix is thrown into even further mayhem?"

"That is an unfair accusation. I am doing everything in my power to save the South. I simply-"

"How could you hope to save the South when you haven't even attempted to rescue Vara? You've done nothing, and-"

"What I do with my time is none of your concern!" Zane roared, slamming his palms against the table. "If you're done complaining, Miss Maikal, kindly leave so I can get back to work!"

It was as though all of the air had been sucked from the room. Josi stared at the man across the desk as the full impact of his words hit her.

This was the man that had been chosen to find a cure for King Garmadon's illness. The man Driniah had surrendered her authority over the South to. The man Cyrus had trusted enough to ally with, hoping to pool their limited resources and raise up a rebellion that would end the nearly seven-hundred year regime of secrecy, fear, and the unfounded belief in the total superiority of the Patriarchs.

And here this man was, behaving as though he were superior. As if he would not so much as bat an eyelash if the fruit of Cyrus' efforts were destroyed by the unholy fires of the King's wrath and greed.

We are going to die, she realized, and it will be all his fault.

"Um…" a voice spoke behind Josi. She pulled her eyes from Zane's and turned to see a servant standing in the doorway with a pale, frightened face and a letter in his hand.

"Yes?" Zane asked, still speaking in a calm, almost bored voice.

The servant bowed and padded into the room as if the carpet might burn his feet, holding out the letter for Zane to take. "This just came for you, my lord," he said. "Brought by Lord Julien's bird."

Zane took the letter and turned it over, examining its seal: two birds in flight, set in steel-blue wax. The seal of the Julien house.

"Thank you," said Zane. "You may go."

The servant seemed all too happy to leave the room. He shut the door quietly behind himself.

Without the slightest glance in Josi's direction, Zane resumed his seat and broke the seal. He removed a slip of paper from the envelope and began to read it. His face paled.

"What is it?" Josi asked.

Zane ignored her. His face grew whiter with each word he read, and his hand shook as he leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to the paper. Josi decided it would be wise to remain quiet until he was finished. Her brow wrinkled with worry: whatever was in that letter could not bode well for Zane- or, by extension, the South.

At last Zane lowered the letter, looking like he was going to be ill. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly.

"Zane?" Josi tried again. "What-"

Zane held up a hand for silence. He let in a shaky breath, sliding his hand down his face. Tears shimmered in his eyes.

"It's from High General Santi," he said before Josi could speak again, standing and slipping the letter into his coat pocket.

"Santi?" Josi repeated. "Why is he sending you a letter with your house's personal seal on it?"

"Because he is Regent of my house now." Zane turned away and discreetly wiped his eyes. "Your master's antidote didn't take. My father is dead."

Josi caught the ill-concealed hint of scorn in his tone. Any sympathy she might have had for Zane's predicament was countered by this; she crossed her arms, frowning. "The medicine doesn't always take," she said defensively. "On stronger people, there's a one in eight chance the plagued person will die. Your father was already old and frail, so-"

"Do NOT speak of Father that way!" Zane bellowed, raising a hand as if to strike her. He curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it very deliberately, taking another deep breath.

Josi stepped back in shock. Zane could be extremely rude, and didn't take great care to guard his tongue, especially in these last few days. But had he really been prepared to strike her?

What had happened to the kind, gentle man she'd met in the Middle mere weeks ago while searching for Prince Lou?

"I'm sorry." Zane's voice was hardly a whisper, and he wiped his eyes again. "I-I need to go." He ran for the door.

"Go where?" Josi demanded, turning on her heel. "Zane! Where are you going?"

But he was gone, leaving Josi alone to marvel at how, with one little letter, their country's terrible situation had somehow managed to get even worse.

Cyrus' Bonhoeffer quote was one hundred percent intentional. XD Just in case any of you caught it and were wondering...

Peran, tsk tsk. Apparently he doesn't realize that in the cartoons, when a bird is trying to get your attention, you are obligated to follow it! XD

A huge shoutout to Kira Vulpes! You're awesome. Thank you sooo much for your help.

Thanks to the rest of y'all for reading! :D Reviews are whipped cream to my hot chocolate. If you have a minute, would you kindly consider dropping one in that nifty box below? Thank you! Have a great weekend, you guys. God bless!