Wave after wave of lizard men charge at them, and wave after wave crumble under the deadly combination of steel and dark magic. The Wellspring guards quickly clean up anything that somehow manages to slip past the devastating pair at the front and within the hour the group stands in front of a large cave mouth which reeks of carrion and reptile.

As Captain Bale begins organizing defensive lines outside the cavern, Primrose approaches Olberic who is staring into the darkness. She lays a hand on his gauntleted fist and his eyes flick towards her for the briefest moment before resuming their silent vigil.

"Bale says he's gone in there alone," she says quietly.

Olberic nods.

She looks over her shoulder at the guardsmen and then turns her attention back to the warrior at her side. "What do you want to do?"

He tightens his grip around his sword hilt but doesn't respond.

"Olberic, I-" she begins cautiously.

"I'm going in," he says, his deep voice devoid of all emotion. "This has the potential to be an ugly fight. Would you prefer to stay here and assist Captain Bale? I will not fault you, I doubt the battle will be any less thick out here and they can surely use your help."

She frowns up at him. "Do you seriously think I'm going to sit out here while you go inside alone?"

"I have no idea what awaits us in there, Prim," he replies, raking a hand through his hair.

"All the more reason that I should be at your side, where I belong." She plants her fists on her hips, her decision made. "We're losing daylight here, Sir Olberic. What's it going to be?"

He rolls his neck and stretches his shoulders with a low grunt, then nods. "Let's go."

Things begin to move along very quickly. Bale and Olberic exchange words briefly, clasping forearms, and the captain bows to Primrose before rejoining his men, his expression grim but determined. Before long, the couple is making their way through the cave, the flickering torchlight illuminating piles of bones and other things best left unexamined in every alcove. Clearly, scores of the beasts reside inside the tunnels, though barely any of the creatures attempt to thwart the pair as they steadily press onwards.

"This feels wrong," Primrose mutters, her voice pitched low. "Where are they? Surely we did not kill them all already...?"

Olberic shakes his head with a frown. "No. I suspect they are occupied elsewhere. The question is where, exactly, or more to the point..." He pauses, tilting his head and listening to something in the distance. "With whom." He frowns, taking a step towards a fork in the tunnels. "This way. That sounded like metal striking metal."

They hurry along, the torch casting lurching shadows on the walls as it bobs in Primrose's hand. The barely discernable sounds of combat grow steadily louder until they round a final bend and overlook a long series of steps leading to a large platform. Lizard men lay dead and dying, scattered to either side of the chamber. At the center, a tall blond dressed in a sweeping black surcoat over a blood red tunic swings his gleaming broadsword about him in a graceful arc, deftly removing a beast's head and adding yet another corpse to the pile. Without so much as a sideways glance he resumes a ready position, his sword balanced in front of him at an angle to intercept any attacks aimed at him from the ring of monsters closing in on him. His fluid, confident movements and obvious skill with a blade leave no doubt in the dancer's mind as to his identity, and she is utterly unsurprised when Olberic strides forward woodenly to join him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Erhardt," he rasps, raw emotions choking him.

The fair-haired knight turns his head towards the sound of his name, shock washing over his handsome features. "Olberic...!" he gasps. "What in the gods' names are you doing here?"

"Later," Olberic intones, nodding grimly at the remaining beasts. "Let's take care of this first."

The knights make astonishingly fast work of the lizard men and lower their weapons, facing each other at last. Primrose slowly picks her way to Olberic's side, casually stepping around the carnage to stand beside him. Erhardt runs his eyes over her briefly, curiosity evident in his deep blue eyes as he nods politely in greeting but his full attention shifts back to his former brother-in-arms as Olberic begins to speak.

"How long has it been, Erhardt?" Olberic says, his rich voice echoing off the cavern walls.

"Long. Too long...Ah," Erhardt replies, his words trailing off uncomfortably as memories rise of their last meeting. Use your eyes, man! The King is dead, by my hand! "Listen, Olberic-"

"I need to-" the black-haired warrior begins.

A deafening series of roars erupts from both sides of the cavern. Something was coming and the force of its approach shook the very walls. Instinctively, with the reflexes born of years of training and going to war by each other's sides, both men simultaneously draw their blades and assume their familiar fighting stances positioned back to back with Primrose between them. The dancer smiles at the spectacle of her father's long ago tales of the legendary Twin Blades of Hornburg coming to life right before her eyes even as a dark miasma surrounds her, the beginning incantations of a spell tumbling from her lips.

"Finally! Those are the leaders of the horde," Erhardt explains. "If we slay them, the rest will be easy to disperse."

"To work, then. I'll take the right," Olberic says, catching Primrose's eye.

"Then the left is mine. Be careful, they are more cunning than they appear. When they fight together," he says, glancing over his shoulder at his old friend, "they are stronger than the sum of their parts."

Something seems to pass between the men at these words, some deeper undercurrent of truth that seems to melt through some of the palpable tension. Primrose's gaze flicks from one to the other as the moment hangs in the air. Olberic opens his mouth to reply but another roar thunders through the air and both knights turn away again, heading off to face down the threat with a last teasing admonishment to each other to try not to get killed in the process.

Primrose lets go of a breath that she didn't know she was holding and catches up to Olberic, her long legs trotting briskly to match his determined stride. A thousand thoughts race through her mind but it was hardly the time to voice them. A truly massive beast lay in wait just ahead, flanked by a pair of giant cohorts, and all of her lover's considerable focus was trained on the fight ahead of them. Untangling the complexities of his relationship with Erhardt would have to wait.


Despite putting up a desperate fight, in the end the chieftain of the lizard men was completely out of its depths. Olberic took a moment to contemplate the fallen creature, reflecting that even this seemingly primitive monster had given its life to protect those in its charge. Perhaps it really was that simple. Perhaps it fell to the strong to protect the weak, to lay down their lives if necessary, so that others might go on.

Absently he cleans the gore from his blade, lost in thought. He looks up as he sheathes his sword and catches Primrose's eye, concern written all over her lovely face. "Are you hurt?" he asks.

She shakes her head, crossing over to his side. "How do you think Erhardt fared?"

He barks a short laugh. "I doubt he has a scratch on him. These creatures are no match for the likes of us. Their only hope was to overwhelm us with numbers. It's over for them now."

She nods slowly. "So...what happens now?"

"Now? Now, he meets his fate at my hands." He leads her out of the antechamber, heading back for the center platform where they had found Erhardt earlier.

"You told Gustav you would listen to what he had to say. Do you intend to do so, still?" she asks quietly, gazing up at him.

He stops suddenly, turning to face her. "What do you want from me, Prim? I cannot just walk in there and forget what he's done. The blood of my king is on his hands. The blood of my entire nation! Men, women, children, an entire people gone forever. Because of what? Because he blamed King Alfred for the loss of his childhood home?"

"Would you have not done the same, were the roles reversed?" she lifts her chin, looking him squarely in the eye. "What lengths would you go to to see justice served? How many people have you killed in service to a throne? How many have either of us killed to mete out justice on our own terms?" He bristles slightly and she steps forward, slipping her arms around his waist. Her proximity and touch has an immediate effect on him, instantly calming him and allowing her words to begin to sink in. "I'm not telling you what to do, gods above know I would be a hypocrite to tell you to spare him when my own hands are stained red and will be drenched again soon enough. Know that I love you and will support you no matter what you decide to do...or not do. Just listen to him, please. Some things cannot be undone, some choices cannot be unmade." She rises on her toes to press a tentative kiss to his lips.

He rests his forehead against hers momentarily, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I will listen to what he has to say, though I cannot imagine what justification he might have for his actions."

"I will leave the matter of justification up to you, I suppose, but if you are ready to hear me then I am ready to speak." Erhardt approaches the couple, his arms relaxed and at his sides. "I do thank you, lovely lady, for advocating on my behalf, but I am not sure that I deserve your faith. Still, the gesture is deeply appreciated." He offers Primrose a polite bow then straightens and turns back to Olberic, his expression one of calm resignation. "So. How did you find me, old friend?"

"Gustav told me where you were. He told me a lot of things," Olberic replies.

"I see. So you heard about Grynd, then. About the day my whole life went up in flames, the day King Alfred did nothing while my family, my friends...everyone I'd ever known burned. Do you know they all died crying out for their king? So sure that help was on the way?" Erhardt stares into the darkness, lost in memories. "The king never came. Mercenaries did, though. They plucked me from the ashes, raised me as one of them, trained me up, and I was grateful for it. One day, the leader came to me with an idea for revenge. I was all too happy to do my part."

Olberic stares at him, aghast. "Do you mean to tell me that you knew how this would end all along? You came to us with this black notion already in your heart?"

"Do you want to know the worst of it, brother? After it was done, after the king lay at my feet, after I defeated you and walked away from it all...I had nothing left. The mercenaries disbanded in the chaos of Hornburg's fall, and I was alone again. My memories of the times I'd spent with you and the men felt more real than anything else, and it was all lost to me forever by my own deeds. I'd thought that finally serving out my revenge would set me free to live my life in peace, but all it did was expose the emptiness inside. I'd nursed my bitterness for so long that it was all that I knew." He turns to face them, his blue eyes sorrowful. "I won't ask for your forgiveness, nor your pity. I deserve neither. Truthfully, I am not even certain why you're still willing to listen after everything I've done, everything you've lost. Whatever your reasoning for standing here now, I'm thankful for it. Seeing you again, seeing that you've found someone to share your life...it's the closest I've felt to peace since that bloody day."

"Who was the leader? The one who put you up to it?" Primrose gazes at the blond knight with a thoughtful frown.

Both men look at her in surprise. "Werner," Erhardt replies. "His name is Werner."

"And where is this Werner now?" she asks, her voice low and deadly.

Olberic stares at her for a moment before nodding. "He took you in, raised you up with a single goal in mind, and then executed a decades' long plan that brought our entire kingdom to utter collapse. Thousands of innocents dead, for what? Why?"

Erhardt blinks slowly, considering this turn. "I've no idea what his motivation was. He offered me a chance to exact my revenge and I leapt at it."

"Where is he now?" Olberic asks.

"Olberic. Leave it be," Erhardt says. "Revenge for revenge's sake will leave you where I am standing now. I've no right to ask you to learn from my mistakes, but..."

"A man like that, a man who engineered the death of an entire kingdom, cannot be allowed to walk freely. Brand knows what he will do next, what he is already setting into motion! Someone like that does not simply go quietly into retirement," Olberic argues. "Where is he, Erhardt?"

"Riverford. The last I heard, he'd dubbed himself Lord Werner and moved to take over Riverford." Erhardt sighs. "Have a care when you go after him, Olberic. He fights like nothing I've ever seen. It's not just skill and strength, there is something about him that strikes terror into a man's heart. Bloody unnatural."

The black-haired knight chuckles, clapping a hand on the blond's shoulder. "I will manage," he replies confidently. "I've grown in skill since you and I last crossed blades."

Erhardt grins at him, nodding. "I imagine you have."

"Although that reminds me. There is just one more thing I need to discuss with you before we put all this behind us," Olberic says.

The blond knight quirks an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Draw your sword, Erhardt. For once and all, let us fight," the taller warrior intones.

"I will hold nothing back, Olberic. You know I will not," Erhardt replies calmly.

"I would expect nothing less, old friend," he answers, drawing his sword and squaring off as Primrose moves away from the warriors with a frown. He raises his weapon in a formal salute before settling into a ready stance. "In victory, truth!"