No longer occupied with casting other spells, the scepter emitted the rose-colored magic of Clara's aura once again, leading Eric and Tommy through the school. The two moved as quietly as possible, listening intently for the sounds of approaching footsteps. But they continued on unhindered, weaving past empty rooms until turning down a more narrow hallway.

Lining the left wall was a row of windows. The middle one was shattered, revealing an orchestra classroom, which was disarrayed with overturned chairs and music stands.

A chill ran down the back of Eric's neck at the sight. He approached the window cautiously, cringing as shards of glass crunched loudly beneath his feet. Tommy followed, his eyes widening in fear.

"Clara?" hissed Tommy. He leaned forward, peering into the dimly lit classroom.

The scepter vibrated faintly in Eric's hand, as though in warning. He spun around, and caught sight of a man standing at the end of the hallway. A revolver was in his outstretched hand.

Eric had a brief moment of recognition: the man was the same one who had threatened him beneath the bridge. But the thought barely registered in his mind before he whirled around, shoving Tommy away from the window. Eric threw himself to the side, flinching as a shot rang loudly throughout the hallway. A piece of the broken window frame shattered as the bullet struck it, sending bits of wood flying.

"Into the classroom!" commanded Eric. He pushed Tommy through the window, then launched himself over the window sill. Another shot rang out, and a bullet flew through the open window to embed itself into the back of a classroom chair.

"Come now, Your Majesty," laughed the man. "Don't you want to see your queen?"

Eric gritted his teeth, rage thundering in his chest. He pulled Tommy low to the floor, and together they moved away from the window. Glancing about, Eric noticed a grand piano not far from him and Tommy. He nudged Tommy, nodding towards the instrument. Tommy immediately began crawling towards it, and Eric turned to watch their attacker peer through the window.

The man easily spotted Eric, despite the low lighting. A cruel smile curved his lips, and he raised the revolver. "Come along now, Your Majesty," he cajoled mockingly. "It's time to pay your due."

Eric pointed the scepter at the man. "You'll have to shoot me first. And I doubt Vogt will be pleased with you if that happens."

The man raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There are many places a man can be shot that are not fatal. If you prefer to be dragged bleeding to Vogt, I will happily oblige." He cocked the revolver.

"I wonder at how good your aim is," snapped Eric. He edged towards the piano. "How long have you Pathenian men been using those revolvers, anyway?"

The man chuckled. "We've been biding our time in this world for a lot longer than you realize." His finger twitched towards the trigger.

Eric threw himself into a roll beneath the piano, barely missing the bullet as it shot into the spot he had been crouched over. He scrambled to Tommy, who was huddled beneath the piano bench.

"You alright?" muttered Eric.

Tommy nodded frantically. Then his face brightened in realization, and his hand twitched towards his pocket.

"Not yet." Eric shook his head.

There was the sound of more footsteps, and Eric peeked out from behind the piano to watch as two more men crawled through the window. They moved to the first man's side, drawing their own revolvers.

"Enough games," said the first man impatiently. "Come out."

Eric ducked back behind the piano, his voice low as he spoke to Tommy. "When I move, use the ginger drops to cover yourself. Run for the classroom door. Do not throw the drops at the men – I need to be able to see them."

Tommy gave a determined nod. He shoved his hand into his pocket and drew out two ginger drops. They glowed faintly, humming with the spell Eric had cast upon them.

Eric twisted the scepter in his hands, muttering the needed incantation quickly.

"Coil the rope and cease their crime

Bind their limbs, hold fast against time."

He felt the scepter thrum in response and shot to his feet, spinning around to face their attackers. Surprise flashed over the men's faces at Eric's sudden appearance, but they quickly recovered and readjusted their aim to him. Eric arched his arm forward, thrusting the scepter out. Ropes flew from the scepter, soaring across the room to wrap around the arms and legs of the man who had originally stumbled upon Eric and Tommy.

At the same moment, Tommy dashed out from behind the piano and threw one of the ginger drops to the ground. The ginger drop exploded upon striking the wooden floorboards, releasing a cloud of dusky orange smoke that shielded Tommy from the view of the men.

The man closest to Tommy cried out in alarm at the sudden explosion, and he fired blindly in Tommy's direction. Eric snapped the scepter at the man, securing him. Tommy threw the second ginger drop, providing himself with a second cloud to hide behind as he ran to the classroom door and dashed through it, disappearing into the hallway.

The remaining man fired, using Eric's distraction of protecting Tommy to get a clear shot. But the second ginger drop explosion made him jump, and the shot went wild, going into the wall behind Eric. Eric swung the scepter back at the man, and a moment later the man was on the floor with his companions, writhing against the ropes binding him.

Breathing heavily, Eric crept out from behind the piano. He glanced worriedly at the classroom door, which was hazy from the dissipating ginger cloud.

"Tommy?" called Eric. He ran into the hallway.

Tommy was nowhere in sight. Unsettled by the silence, Eric moved further away from the classroom, hoping that Tommy had found a secure place to hide. He glanced at the scepter. It was glowing with Clara's aura once again, trailing off down the left end of the hallway. Eric stood there for a moment, conflicted on whether to pursue Clara, or search for Tommy.

But where would he even begin to look for Tommy? Eric frowned, studying the magic streaming from the scepter. It was a fair bet that Tommy was safe and in hiding. But if Tommy had been captured, he would likely be taken to where Clara was. His decision made, Eric turned left and broke into a run.

Eventually, he was led to a set of double doors. Eric pushed through them, then skidded to a stop in surprise.

He was in the school's theatre auditorium. It was much smaller than a regular theatre, but it was still large each to fit at least a couple hundred people. Dozens of rows of seats arched in lines before him, curving down to the stage, before which was a small orchestra pit. Built into the wall above was a single private theatre box.

The sound of a door opening diverted Eric's attention to the back of the theatre. Two of Vogt's men burst through the doorway; upon seeing Eric, they brought up their revolvers. Without hesitation, Eric aimed the scepter at them, easily securing them with the binding spell.

"Your Majesty! How wonderful of you to come!"

Eric jerked his head up at the sudden voice. In the theatre box, which had been empty only seconds before, stood Vogt. Pulled against his chest was Clara, whose hands were tied behind her back.

In Vogt's hand was a revolver – which was pressed to Clara's temple. Clara was shaking, but anger blazed through the fear in her eyes, along with a desperate longing meant for Eric as they locked gazes.

Terror flowed through Eric at the sight. He brought the scepter up with a snarl, aiming it at Vogt.

Vogt laughed. "Ah, careful there! Wouldn't want to hit your lovely queen."

Eric tightened his grip on the scepter. "Be smart about this, Vogt," he warned. "Kill her, and there won't be anything holding me back."

"Well now, that is a rather violent threat to come from you," smirked Vogt. "Tell me, Eric, how exactly did brawling with Mauscher over the throne like beggars fighting for a scrap of food prepare you for the crown? Do you now feel as though you can handle the pressures of being king because of it? Defeating a man who was idiotic enough to curse people with a scepter meant to protect them isn't much of an accomplishment."

"Yet you had faith enough in him to follow him into treason," said Eric in disgust.

Vogt shrugged. "He promised to pay handsomely for our loyalty. I don't see the stupidity in that."

"That's what this is about then? The money Mauscher should have paid you?"

"But couldn't once you got rid of him? That is part of it." Vogt sneered at Eric. "The humiliation we had to endure because of your sentencing is the other."

"I spared your life," ground out Eric.

Vogt scoffed. "Then you are a fool, for I will not have the same leniency with you."

Eric's gaze flickered back to Clara, and he frowned in concern. Clara's eyed were closed, and her head was bowed slightly. An expression of heavy concentration was on her face. Vogt noticed Eric's refocused attention, and he followed it to look down at Clara.

"Clara?" asked Eric nervously.

Vogt gave Clara a rough shake. Her brow creased, but she did not open her eyes. "What is this? Is this some kind of trick?" he demanded. He shook Clara again, then pressed the revolver harder against her head. "Open your eyes!" he ordered.

A brief second of tension passed. Then Vogt gave a cry of pain and jerked the pistol away from Clara, letting it fall from his grasp to the floor of the theatre box. She stumbled forward as Vogt released her, and her eyes snapped open, only to widen in fear as she slammed into the balcony railing. Vogt lunged forward, grabbing for Clara to secure her once again. Clara twisted around, attempting to push Vogt away in spite of her bond hands.

Eric ran forward, muttering an incantation under his breath.

Alarm flashed over Vogt's face as Eric raised the scepter. He glanced at back Clara, whose arms he now gripped tightly. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then gave Clara a single, hard shove – pushing her over the side of the balcony. Clara let out a cry of terror, unable to do anything but fall towards the floor below.

"No!" shouted Eric. He raised the scepter higher. A flash of golden magic burst from it, enveloping Clara in its glow and slowing her fall. Eric rushed forward, catching her as the magic gently dropped her into his arms.

"Clara…Clara…" Eric gasped in relief. He moved to set her down, but he felt the scepter vibrate in warning. He glanced up to see Vogt leaning over the balcony railing, his revolver aimed at them.

Eric threw himself and Clara to the side as a shot rang out, narrowly avoiding the bullet that embedded into the seat Eric had been standing in front of. With Clara still in his arms, Eric ducked beneath the theatre box, where they were completely shielded from Vogt's view.

Safe for the moment, Eric set Clara down and hastily untied her hands. Once she was free he pulled her into a desperate embrace. "Clara…" He pressed a frantic kiss to Clara's temple and lips, then moved back to examine her. "What did he do to you?" he demanded, his voice shaking with anger – and fear of her answer. "Did he hurt you?"

Clara shook her head, tears in her eyes. "No, no he didn't hurt me." She drew him close, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "You're alright," she sobbed. "Vogt, he threatened terrible things…"

At the mention of Vogt, Eric moved them further beneath the balcony, listening for sounds of the man's approach. Vogt undoubtedly had left the theatre box by now, and would be descending the stairs to the main theatre level. Keeping one arm around Clara, Eric adjusted the scepter in his hands. Clara looped her arm around Eric's waist, then glanced down at the pistol hanging from his belt. She pulled it free and cocked it, grateful that Eric had already loaded it.

Eric had taught her how to shoot a few of the pistols his father had collected, but she had not practiced much, and she wasn't sure her aim would be enough to protect them effectively. It did not help her nerves to know that, unlike Vogt's revolver, she only had one shot to fire before the pistol would need to be reloaded. Gritting her teeth, she forced her hand to steady and aimed the pistol at the door that opened to the theatre box's staircase.

Eric glanced at the orchestra pit in front of the stage. "Come on," he muttered, pulling her towards the pit.

The side door slammed open, and Clara shouted Eric's name in warning. Eric snapped his head around to see Vogt rush into the auditorium, rage on his face. He spun towards Eric and Clara and raised his revolver, firing.

Eric yanked Clara into the theatre seats, pulling her to the floor as bullets tore at the cushions above their heads. Eric tucked Clara beneath his body, covering her as they edged towards the center aisle running between the rows.

The firing ceased, the ring of the final shot echoing throughout the auditorium. Eric looked cautiously over the seats. Vogt was still storming towards them, but he tossed aside the now-empty revolver, not bothering to reload it. Instead, he reached for a second revolver hanging from his belt.

"Don't be a fool, Eric," he shouted. "All of this hiding will only get your wife hurt. And that would be such an unnecessary waste."

Knowing the brief reprieve in the attack would be over soon, Eric tugged Clara upright, and together they dashed for the stage. Vogt raised the second revolver, firing again. Clara screamed as a bullet smashed into the wooden back of a chair she ran past, and Eric pushed her ahead of him. They jumped into the orchestra pit, tumbling to the floor of it clumsily.

Clara rolled into Eric's side with bruising hardness as they landed, and he grunted at the impact, the scepter falling from his hand as he caught Clara against him. They began to untangle themselves from each other, but froze as a bullet struck the floor directly in front of them.

"Really, you two," tutted Vogt. "You are making this far more difficult than it needs to be."

Eric and Clara raised their heads to the edge of the orchestra pit. Vogt stood above them, his revolver aimed at Eric. Looking flustered, yet triumphant, Vogt gestured for Eric and Clara to stand.

"Get up," he instructed harshly. "Leave the scepter and pistol where they are, though."

Eric glanced longingly at the scepter, which still lay within reach. But the thought of endangering Clara to grab for it made the idea impossible to entertain, and he slowly stood along with Clara. Cautious in her movements, Clara moved so that she was standing directly in front of Eric. Eric tried to push her aside, but she stood her ground, reaching behind to grasp his arm.

"Please, Vogt," she implored. "Please, leave him be. You're angry, and feel as though you are owed for what you endured in exile. I understand that. But to murder?" She tightened her grip on Eric. "Surely this is not the man you truly are."

Vogt gave a harsh laugh. "What do you know of the kind of man I am? You know nothing of who I was before my exile, and have little to base your hope on now." He gave the revolver a warning shake. "Move aside. I should hate to harm you."

"Like you would have had Eric not caught me from the balcony," snapped Clara.

Vogt tightened his jaw. "I needed a distraction. It was an undesired action on my part, and I had hoped Eric would not be so useless that he couldn't catch you. Fortunately, I was correct. Be grateful that I continue to try to abstain you from harm. Step aside."

"If I refuse and you shoot me, what happens to your ransom?" challenged Clara. "What good will a dead king and queen be to you?"

Vogt snorted. "I will not kill you. But injuring you to get to your husband is something I will do if I must."

Eric once again tried to push Clara behind him. "Clara, move," he hissed.

"No," said Clara tightly.

Vogt sighed. "Very well, then."

Before Eric or Clara could react, something came flying down between the three of them. There was the faint click of something hard hitting the floor of the orchestra pit, and then a cloud of orange smoke exploded near where Vogt was standing. Vogt stumbled back with a cry, throwing up his arm to shield himself from the blast.

Eric snapped his head up, and relief soared through him. Tommy, looking unharmed and intently determined, was crouched over the edge of the catwalk above the stage. He dug into his pocket once more, searching for another ginger drop. Then his eyes widened, and he pointed frantically. "Look out!" he cried.

Vogt jumped through the cloud, landing with a hard thud onto the floor of the orchestra pit. Eric wrapped his arm around Clara, wrenching her behind him as they stumbled back. Eric stooped, snatching up the scepter as Vogt pulled the trigger of the revolver once more – only to hear the click of a jammed bullet. Snarling in frustration, Vogt tossed aside the weapon and yanked free the knife from his belt.

Vogt lunged at the two, fury contorting his features. With not enough time to proper cast a spell, Eric swung the scepter outwards, striking Vogt in the side hard enough to send him staggering. Vogt grasped the end of the scepter and yanked it harshly, dragging Eric forward. His movements swift, Vogt swiped the knife upwards. Eric lurched back, but the blade sliced along his forearm, eliciting a hiss of pain from him.

A mad sort of victory lit in Vogt's eyes, and he raised the knife once more. Then a second ginger cloud exploded beside the two men, sending them sprawling. The scepter rolled away, and the knife clattered to the floor. Vogt threw himself at the knife, but Eric kicked it away. Snarling, Vogt made to jump at Eric. But then something hard pressed into the back of Vogt's head, making him freeze.

Fury was etched into Clara's features, giving her a ferocity Eric had never seen on her before. Her shoulders were trembling, but the hand holding the pistol to Vogt's head was steady.

"Do not move," warned Clara. Fear drowned the blue of her eyes, and she stared at the pistol in terror at the mere prospect of having to pull the trigger. Yet she did not lower the weapon.

Vogt curled his hands into fists. "Are you going to shoot me, Your Majesty?"

Clara swallowed deeply. "I would rather not. But I will not let you murder my husband."

Keeping his gaze on Clara and Vogt, Eric reached for the scepter. His hand curled over it, and he brought it up, aiming it at Vogt. Ropes flew forth, coiling tightly around Vogt's wrists and ankles. Unable to keep his balance, Vogt crumpled to the floor. Hatred blazed in his eyes as he glared up at Eric, and he struggled to find a dignified position in his bonds.

"Your failure to carry out my execution before is what caused this," Vogt hissed at Eric. "Are you too cowardly to remedy that mistake? Go on, Your Majesty. Carry out the true punishment for treason, as is your responsibility as king."

Eric's hand tightened on the scepter. He stared at Vogt with a strained fury, conflict in his eyes as he contemplated Vogt's words.

Perhaps Vogt was right. Perhaps allowing him to roam free in exile was a mistake on Eric's part.

But to kill Vogt here, without a trial and with nothing more than protective rage for Clara thundering in his head…it seemed too close to something Mauscher would do.

Yet he couldn't very well just leave Vogt in this world.

His arm holding the scepter trembled beneath his indecision. Then a soft hand, its touch lighter than the dust of snowfall, laid over his. Eric blinked in surprise and turned to see Clara standing next to him, her eyes pleading as she looked up at him. He hadn't even heard her come to his side.

"Eric," said Clara gently. Her voice was an immediate relief from the heat inside him, and his shoulders sagged at the sound of his name on her lips. "We must take him back to Parthenia. He will stand trial there." She curled her fingers over his wrapped around the scepter. "It's alright, Eric," she whispered.

Eric held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded and turned back to Vogt.

"Haze the thoughts and douse the mind

In the heaviness of sleep, in the dreams that bind."

The scepter glowed at Eric's words. Vogt blinked, suddenly looking extremely drowsy. Then his eyes fluttered shut, and he slumped to the floor in an enchanted sleep.

Eric lowered the scepter with a heavy exhale. Clara carefully drew it from his grasp and knelt to set it down, then straightened and wrapped her arms around him. Eric shuddered, fervently returning the embrace. His hands shook faintly, though he wasn't sure if it was from anger or fear. Perhaps both.

Clara tightened her grip on him, and Eric closed his eyes, focusing solely on her. The feeling of her in his arms, the familiar scent of her hair as it caught between them in their embrace. The comforting surety that her presence brought to him. He pulled back to properly look at her. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked in concern.

Clara smiled tiredly. "Yes."

Eric studied her face. Relieved at the truth in her eyes, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I was so worried," he whispered. "Clara, if anything had happened to you…"

"But it didn't," interrupted Clara. She swallowed, pushing away horrible thoughts of how the night could have ended. She lifted her hands to his cheeks. "We're safe."

The words we're safe brushed soothingly over the frazzled thoughts of Eric's mind. Hearing them come from Clara solidified them in a manner that he desperately needed, and he sighed in relief.

Safe. She was safe.