FOUR

the reception

Arms crossed and body shaded from the sun by the pillar he was leaning against, Dias shook his head. He hated seeing shoddy anything. He watched from the balcony alcove as the woman sneaked her way through the castle grounds – although in his opinion, sneaking was a more-than generous term to apply to this situation. To her credit, she moved quite fast in spite of her ridiculous performance. He had seen her approaching this section from several angles already; she was evidently looking for a way to get to the throne room.

Probably another treasure hunter begging for passports, Dias thought. They were always crowding the audience bookings.

Now she was winding her way directly below them, the tip of her hat bouncing along and hiding most of her platinum hair at this viewpoint. Her short cloak billowed flashily, trailing the air behind her as she tiptoed about the walkway with an exaggerated sense of secretiveness. Clearly she was under the deluded impression no one could see her.

Cross must really be strapped for soldiers if the castle security is becoming this lax.

He glanced over his shoulder at his companion, who had been pacing about in circles earlier but was now apparently deep in thought, arms folded, head bowed and staring at the embroidered rugs on the floor. A flurry of activity on the part of several of the castle staff had enabled them to bypass the standard bookings easily; this had, of course, done nothing to alleviate Claude's apprehension. At present, they were waiting directly outside the hall leading to the throne room.

To be quite honest, Dias was surprised they were waiting at all. What other issue could take priority for the king's immediate attention?

Claude suddenly looked up and turned to the older man. "Ah, Dias, what are you going to say?"

Dias raised an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to say something?"

"You're not telling the king about the bandits and the confusion with the prince?"

"I brought you here. You can tell your own story."

Dismay crossed the youth's face briefly, but then he merely sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Any chance for some pointers on your protocol for meeting royalty?"

"As long as you don't insult his family or declare war on Cross, you should be fine," Dias offered helpfully. He looked back out at the level below. The woman was already making her fifth go around the area. He shook his head again.

"Gee, I sure hope I don't do any of those things," Claude muttered.

Dias turned his attention back and smirked. "Worried about getting married off?"

"Har har," Claude replied, but tension remained in his voice.

Light footsteps and the awareness of new presences drew both men's attention back to the expansive hall. A trio of attendants, robes long and flowing, halted before them. All three bowed respectfully at the same time.

The center figure stepped forward. "My apologies for the interruption," he said. "And the wait. His Royal Majesty, King Roderick of Cross, will see you now." Half-turning, he gestured. "Please come this way."

While Claude followed, Dias trailed behind for a brief moment. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the last attendant. "You might want to do something about that," he said, pointing out towards the balcony view. Without waiting to see the servant's reaction, he turned and left.

They were ushered into the throne room, Claude gulping at the grandeur of the audience chamber while Dias appraised the decor with a sweeping glance of boredom. As a pair of attendants unobtrusively shut the doors behind them, the younger man frowned, eyeing their actions nervously.

"Dias Flac of Arlia Village," the herald said with a little too much enthusiasm as they approached. "And His Royal Highness, Clother T. Cross!"

"Mercy of Tria," exclaimed the king, half-rising from his throne. The cluster of counsellors to his right gasped, and waves of surprised murmurs circulated around the audience chamber.

"Noooo," Claude mumbled at a volume only Dias could hear. Dias bowed, noting that the other man glanced quickly at him before doing the same.

"You may now approach the throne," the herald announced.

"Step up," the swordsman said quietly, before wondering why he was playing into the scenario of Claude's claimed ignorance. The king's eyes widened as they approached, and Dias resisted the urge to nod discreetly as a signal for the other man to proceed. Here we go, he thought, half-expecting either a row to ensue, or for the youth to fall apart and start babbling all over the place.

Claude stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Uh," he began eloquently. "I'm not your son. I mean, I'm not who you think I am – Your Majesty." For a split-second he seemed confused, then appeared to mentally gather himself together. "My name is Claude Kenni."

Dias paused. After the initial, uncertain stutter, his tone had become controlled and factual; it reminded the mercenary of a soldier making a scouting report.

"I was captured by a group of bandits in the forest about … three days' ride from here," Claude continued. "Apparently they were under the belief that I was the Prince of Cross and planned on ransoming me."

The sovereign's expression was thoughtful as he watched the speaker intently.

"Dias was the one who rescued me. He recommended I come to Cross to clear up any confusion there may be regarding my identity." Claude paused. "If I may, all I'd like to request is that I be allowed to travel without hassle; I'm not really looking to get involved in anything if I can help it."

He took a breath after he finished, and waited.

The king stroked his beard.

"Granted," he said.

Dias raised an eyebrow. This was a surprise.

"If you don't believe me, maybe there's some way I could-" Claude started, then stopped. "What?"

"We give you permission to leave Cross and explore this continent freely without disruption from our soldiers. Provided no laws of this domain are broken, of course."

Claude gaped. "R-really?"

"Certainly. We understand."

Incredulity still lay in his voice. "… You do?"

"We do."

Claude looked doubtful. "Are you sure-"

Dias glowered at him. "Are you trying to talk them into keeping you?"

King Roderick laughed. "You do bear a strong - a very strong - resemblence to Clother; the similarity is quite startling. We are not surprised the bandits, and many of the castle staff, were fooled." Out of the corner of his eye, Dias could see a number of the attendants nodding. "However, there are things, small things, that are unalike: manner of bearing, for one; manner of speech, for another; other physical traits … these are evident once one has had the opportunity to observe for moments longer than some of the more easily excitable members of our court have allowed themselves."

Roderick smiled; sheepish expressions could be seen here and there around them. "To give an obvious example," the monarch acknowledged, "your eyes are blue. Clother's are green."

Dias blinked. He hadn't noticed before, either. Then again, he had never had the opportunity – nor the reason – to do so, close up.

Claude frowned. "That's it?" There was an undertone of skepticism. "I guess …" he scratched his head. "Well, Your Majesty, I've never … had the fortune of meeting Prince Clother, so I wouldn't know, but that seems … a bit too easy. You're willing to believe me on that alone?"

"You wish for us to disbelieve you?" The king laughed again, pleasantly. "Certainly, the Heraldric arts can create whole illusions; to Crest sorcery, the colour of an eye is nothing. But, were you really Clother, we doubt you would waste your time to disguise only that. And the very fact you chose to come forward is in your favour." He leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. "Then again, were you Clother, perhaps your plan is to play the obvious and hide in plain sight.

"Although," he rubbed at his chin, "plain sight is a bit of an understatement, in your current attire ..."

"Um," said Claude, looking down at himself as though seeing his clothing for the first time.

"In any case, were you the Prince, we would at least be comforted in knowing where you are. We trust Dias Flac."

Claude sighed with relief. "Thank god," he said. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was really worried, especially after Dias filled me in on the situation."

The king nodded, and in that one motion he seemed to age perceptibly. "It is indeed … awkward."

"So the Prince is officially 'resting in the provinces'," Dias said, ignoring the glares and scowls various counsellors shot his way.

"… Yes. He chose a most opportune time." Roderick sighed. "It is all we can do to keep it up at the moment. The Princess Rosalia has been staying in the castle for over a fortnight already; she is no fool. Our patience and composure are wearing thin …" The king sighed again. "It is all a delicate but most necessary charade."

He paused, then looked up and gazed at the youth in silence. Claude shifted, leaning on one foot and then the other, discomfited. Finally, the king spoke again.

"Young Claude, we don't suppose you would be willing to stand in for Clother?"

The individual in question stared blankly. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty?"

Dias knew the king well enough, and considered his options without concern. I could use a little entertainment today, he decided, and remained silent.

"It would be temporary, of course; only until we find our son. And naturally, we cannot tell any outsiders about the matter, including the Kingdom of Lacour."

"Uh …" Claude paled. "With all due respect, Your Majesty …"

"It would be a most grand and clever solution, wouldn't you say?"

"Ah, well, I-" Flustered, the young man glanced anxiously at Dias. The latter made no response and turned his head to the tapestry-draped walls, suddenly developing a keen interest in detailed knotwork, waiting for it to play out.

His Majesty clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! Arrangements can be completed this very day."

"But I …"

"The messenger shall be dispatched immediately to Lacour, the announcement will be made in three hours-"

"Y, Your Majesty-"

"- the wedding will be held in the afternoon, and-"

"Your Majesty!"

His Majesty chuckled. "Forgive me. Fear not; it was but a little mischief on our part."

Claude practically collapsed. "You- ugh - Your Majesty, please don't do that."

"Our apologies once again." The king smiled. "In all honesty, it would be a most convenient way out. It cannot be said that such a solution is unwelcome." He shook his head. "But truly, we could not expect – nor could we force – you, a stranger, to be burdened with our troubles." He sighed again, deeply.

"But … that's not the whole story, is it?"

The king raised his head. "What do you mean to be telling us?"

"Well …" Claude swallowed, throwing a sideways look at Dias again before pressing on. "It's not just the difficulty with Prince Clother, is it? There's the Sorcery Globe, and it seems to have caused a number of strange mutations in the wildlife …"

The king nodded. "We wish to obtain more information about the Sorcery Globe, but thus far it has proven somewhat difficult."

"The survey team that was sent," Dias interrupted. "It hasn't returned."

To the left of the monarch, a long-bearded counsellor – most likely the so-called oldest and wisest advisor, as well as the genius behind the brilliant decision, Dias presumed – opened his mouth, but Roderick raised a hand to silence him.

"Perceptive, as always," replied the king. "You are correct."

"And so?" Dias said.

Roderick lowered his hand. "As you know, the Sorcery Globe fell on the continent of El. The Kingdom of El is presently engaged in war against an army of monsters. But we do not have much information on how great or serious a conflict this is. With the present turmoil and the lack of usable routes and willing vessels crossing over to the continent, whatever contacts we can make are strained. Everything we receive is from the battlefield and difficult to understand."

"I would imagine," Dias responded, "that the disappearance of the previous survey team might give some idea as to the seriousness of the conflict."

The advisor who had come forward previously rapped his staff loudly against the floor. "And how," he said sharply, "are we to decide the best move to make if we have no information on which to base our judgments? That would be sheer folly. That is why we have decided to summon adventurers to form a new survey team."

Dias gazed at the advisor with contempt. "And how effective do you expect them to be, given your past successes?"

The king smiled tiredly at the exchange. "It is a gamble. But we have no other choice."

"I'd like to volunteer," Claude said out of nowhere.

"What?" Dias and Roderick said at the same time.

Claude looked taken aback at the simultaneous exclamation, then laughed mildly. "I know being captured by bandits isn't exactly the greatest demo of my skills," he said. "It is kind of embarrassing. But I do have scouting experience, and I'm actually not completely useless in battle."

"Well-" The king hesitated. "You certainly seem a stout lad … " He turned to Dias for confirmation.

Dias paused, then nodded. "He's actually not completely useless in battle-"

"Thanks a lot," Claude remarked dryly, but didn't seem all that offended.

"- But I'm also not completely convinced," he finished.

Claude frowned. "I'm … very interested in finding out more about the Sorcery Globe, myself." He hesitated for a moment, then quickly added. "And I don't have anything tying me down to a particular place."

"Most of the mercenaries in this town could say the same," Dias countered evenly.

"Why would I have to start with El?" Claude wondered. "Couldn't you have a smaller team, just one or two people so as to not cause any alarm, looking for clues on this continent first? After all, the mutations are affecting the entire pla- all of Expel, and not only the Sorcery Globe's actual point of impact. There must be some trigger point – some sort of connection – on this side as well."

"… That is quite true," Roderick admitted. "You would need a travel passport to access sufficient regions for gathering such information."

"At the same time," Claude persisted, "I could look for your son. I think," he added wryly, "there might be additional and unnecessary confusion if someone else were assigned the task."

"True," the king repeated. "You proffer a good argument. But … we must decline your request."

Claude frowned again. "Your Majesty, if I may ask why …?"

"We think it an unwise decision for you to travel and seek out hidden information in such a manner. We do not wish to restrict your personal freedom, but under these circumstances we must set some boundaries for safeguarding the kingdom. It is a dangerous time, even for an experienced swordsman, and in your case the danger of monsters is compounded with the matter of brigands."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Aren't bandits a problem for everyone?"

"That may be true, but your particular situation has a unique impact on Cross' delicate position."

"Er, right," Claude agreed, chagrined. "Well, what if I found someone to go with me?"

The king nodded. "That would be a possible solution. However, Cross will dictate that your companion must be an extremely skilled warrior whose loyalty to the kingdom is beyond question. You must appreciate why."

"Of course."

"For reasons discussed earlier, you must appreciate that Cross at present cannot readily supply any such persons from our own military ranks."

"… Yes."

"You must also be aware that mercenaries are at a shortage due to the drafting for the effort in El."

Claude glanced at Dias. "Well, what about-"

"- and that others who have not yet been recruited, such as Dias, are most likely preparing for the upcoming Tournament of Arms."

Claude paused. His brows knit together. "The upcoming …?"

"Surely you have not forgotten that this is the year of the Arms?"

"Uh, yes. I mean, no," said Claude, but he still looked somewhat puzzled. "So … I assume the odds are pretty low of finding someone who fits all the qualifications."

"Ah, so you see why we cannot grant your request. Unless Dias wishes to volunteer … "

All eyes were on him now. As if he were fool enough to make a decision at this moment. He wanted to see how this path would play out, especially since he was fairly sure both sides still had unfinished business pertaining to the recent developments. The full length of Claude's unbelievable story, the strangely prolonged wait for the audience and the details of the situation in El … He was willing to bet one side or the other was going to pull out another card.

Dias folded his arms. "I don't believe there's enough in it for me right now to make that decision."

The king nodded, and turned back to Claude. "… or are you yourself aware of another potential candidate …?"

Claude shifted his feet slightly, awkwardly. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone else in Cross."

"We appreciate that you know what our decision must be."

"… Yes," the youth said, clearly displeased with the outcome.

"We are most grateful for your cooperation in the matter." The king folded his hands. "Now then … is there anything else we should discuss?"

"Actually, yes," Claude said slowly. "There's one more thing."

Just as expected.

"And that would be?"

"I lost a very important item back when I was attacked. It's imperative that I recover it ASA-ah, immediately." He paused. "It might be asking too much, but is there any chance, that is, would it be possible for Your Majesty to keep an eye out for it? … As Your Majesty clearly outlined the reasons why I shouldn't be wandering around by myself."

Dias had to smile inwardly; from what he'd seen of the youth's personality, he suspected, were the situation and audience otherwise, that last sentence would have come out much more sarcastic than it actually sounded. He also had doubts that Claude would actually heed the clearly outlined reasons if it came down to it. The youth was undoubtedly hoping for an extra pair of eyes to search for this precious item.

Roderick leaned forward with slight interest. "What sort of item?"

"Well …" He hesitated, and shot yet another glance at Dias. "I don't think you've seen anything like it, and it's kind of hard to describe, but I'll try."

The 'phase gun' he was obsessed with when I first found him at the hideaway, Dias recalled. The youth had tried to detail it to him then, but had been so flustered none of it had made much sense. Perhaps this time would be different; whether that would prove anything was the question.

"It's like, hmm, what's the closest thing …" Claude rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Um, sorry if this sounds like a strange question, Your Majesty, but do the words pistol or musket mean anything to you?"

Dias raised an eyebrow at the bizarre terms while the sovereign blinked, then took it in stride. "We cannot say they do."

"Okay. The structure is kind of like a crossbow, I guess-"

A crossbow. Well, that was a familiar enough object. Dias closed his eyes, trying to picture the item as he followed along with Claude's words.

"- only, smaller; it fits in one hand-"

The mental image of the crossbow shrank in size.

"- and it's not made of wood, more like a hard metallic material-"

The miniature crossbow took on a reflective sheen, like a suit of plate mail.

"- with a, I guess the closest equivalent would be a combustion engine?- er, no, wait, it's too early – more like a … a barrel?"

The crossbow sprouted a tiny wine barrel. Dias frowned.

"… Never mind, those are revolvers," Claude was muttering when the mercenary opened his eyes, sounding exasperated and clearly disgusted with his attempt.

"Most … interesting," Roderick interrupted, a bemused expression on his face that was mirrored by his counsellors. "What is this? Have you seen anything like this before, Dias?"

"No."

He turned back to the youth. "We are sorry to say we have no familiarity with such an … item. It may help if we had more information. What is the nature of this object?"

"It's …" Claude hesitated. "It's a weapon."

Dias raised an eyebrow. It certainly doesn't sound like one. In the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled Claude saying something of the sort, but had pushed it out of the realm of logical possibility at the time.

"A weapon!" the king exclaimed, echoing the swordsman's thoughts. "It does not seem very effective. It is quite blunt, and the size does not seem suitable for, ah, bludgeoning. You compared it to a crossbow. Does it fire anything?"

"Well, it doesn't really require physical contact, and it doesn't have any projectiles …"

"We are afraid we don't quite follow."

"Um …" Claude grimaced, clearly struggling with an explanation. "It channels energy."

The king paused.

Dias narrowed his eyes; the sovereign's expression was unreadable.

"Ah," Roderick continued, as though nothing had happened. "A Heraldric tool, is it?" He leaned forward. "What sort of crests does it employ? It will be easier to identify if we know what symbols to look for."

"It … doesn't use crests."

"Is that so? Then what does it use?"

"It … uses light."

Something passed over the king's face; it was gone in an instant, before it could be distinguished. Experienced green eyes exchanged a sharp glance with alert crimson ones.

At the core they were both cynics of a sort; they had to be. But Dias was fairly sure he knew exactly what had crossed the king's mind.

When the land of Expel is in danger, a warrior from another world, dressed in alien raiments …

"Kinda like me." A smile, in jest.

… and bearing a Sword of Light …

No, of course not, a ridiculous thought. But something in the back of his mind seemed to say, if … then …

No, of course not.

Nothing else in the king's manner gave anything away. "We see," he answered calmly. "And what shall we do, should we find something similar to your description?"

If Claude had noticed the exchange, he certainly seemed oblivious. "It's … rather … dangerous. I mean, there should be a safety guard on it right now to prevent its operation, but I can't risk the possibility that it's been damaged or that someone has tampered with it. If you find it, all I can ask is … please don't try to do anything with it."

"We understand. We will alert our men to report on any such object."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Claude bowed. "I'm very grateful for your assistance."

"We are pleased. And we think you too will be pleased with our next announcement. We have changed our mind."

"Wha-huh?" Claude said. Dias noted with interest that a few counsellors were stifling similar exclamations.

"We will be granting you permission to investigate the Sorcery Globe under the terms you requested earlier."

"But … why?" asked Claude, mystified.

"After some deliberation," Roderick smiled, "we have a faint suspicion that the outcome of our decision would not waive your resolve. If we cannot discourage it, it is prudent for us to try to ensure its success to our benefit."

It took a few seconds for the message to sink in. Claude grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yes, Your Majesty. You're very perceptive."

The king's smile widened slightly. "We were wrong; you are like Clother in slightly more than merely appearances."

"You mean the misbehaving part?" Claude replied, grinning. "But – what about the companion?"

"There is that." The king's gaze came to rest on Dias. "We would like to begin by making a formal request-"

Dias shrugged. "Why not."

Claude's jaw dropped. His expression was one of complete confusion.

Roderick nodded smoothly. "Then, for this inconvenience, we must make the rest of your travels as unhindered as possible." He snapped his fingers, and a scribe to the left of the throne stood, bowed quickly, sat down again, and began to write furiously. "You shall be provided with a passport. Complete freedom to travel the continent of Cross, including the Mountain Palace, and permission to use the direct passage to the continent of El via the Port of Clik when you so choose."

The hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Dias' mouth. "Very generous of you, Your Majesty."

The king chuckled. "It is rare for such autonomy to be granted; however, there is a personal stake in the outcome. Your purpose is two-fold: find out what you can about the Sorcery Globe … and should you also encounter Prince Clother, render him safely back to Cross Castle as soon as you are able. You will be provided with travel money." He nodded to another servant, who bowed and exited the room to make the preparations. "It is small compensation, but please consider this our thanks. Had you not interfered and escorted Claude to the castle, Tria only knows what could have happened."

His gaze rested on Claude again. "And as for you, young man, we thank you for your cooperation and discretion in these matters. We have but one more request to make of you."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

The king smiled. "We shall provide a more … conventional attire for you, so that you may conduct your investigations in a less conspicuous manner. We hope you are not too offended."

Claude laughed. "Not at all."

"Although we could certainly use your appearance to press the idea that the prince was found to be ill before going to rest in the provinces." The sovereign chuckled, then shook his head. "In a more serious vein, we are afraid we cannot permit you to wander around the castle, due to the delicate nature of the situation, but feel free to relax in a guest chamber while we work out the remaining details with Dias."

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"We thank you, young Claude. You may take your leave."

Claude bowed again. Roderick gestured to an attendant, who came forward and ushered the young man out of the room.

Before he stepped out, Claude threw one last look over his shoulder at Dias, a look comprised of relief mixed with befuddlement, before disappearing from sight. The great oak doors shut smoothly behind him.

Dias waited a few moments before speaking. "Of course, the possible lack of cooperation wasn't the only reason you changed your mind."

"Leave us," Roderick said suddenly, gesturing at his attendants to depart. The counsellors looked disgruntled, but obeyed, sweeping out gravely after the other servants had taken their leave.

Once the room was cleared, the king rose from the throne and made his way down to the swordsman. "You must forgive Menelik. Recent events have not been kind to my counsellors; it has not been easy for them."

"Nor yourself," Dias replied.

"Allow us to dispense with formalities for the moment," Roderick said. "I hope you do not mind if I inquire a bit further as to the situation."

"I thought you were being reserved with your questions," the mercenary commented, relaxing his stance.

"For fear of raising suspicion; I do not know what has transpired in your journey, and would like to find out directly from one I can trust. You brought him here thinking that I would know who he was."

"I was hoping."

"I see," the monarch nodded apologetically. "I'm afraid you have your answer. Tell me, throughout your brief travels with Claude, did the young man ever discuss or let slip any hint of his plans? Of his purpose?"

Dias grimaced. "As far as I can tell, he claimed to be lost and trying to find his way back to … wherever he was from."

"And I assume you asked where he was from?"

"… Yes," Dias replied reluctantly.

"And I assume his answer was similar to the session that occurred a few moments ago?"

"If by that you mean incomprehensible, yes."

Roderick stroked his beard. "His style of dress is certainly … unfamiliar. And he has a most peculiar manner of speech I do not recognize."

"Indeed."

"What do you know of Lacour's activities?"

Dias paused at the unexpected direction. Is there more at stake regarding the potential alliance with Lacour?

"What should I know?" he replied, guarded.

"Are you aware of the on-going Heraldric research being conducted at Lacour Castle?"

"Vaguely." He wondered where this was heading.

"Do you recognize the name the Lacour Hope?"

Dias searched his memory, dense with smoky bar-room rumours of varying degrees of haziness that had crossed his path. "A secret project, under intense development since the Sorcery Globe fell. Or so people say. A powerful incantation?"

"Not quite." The sovereign's voice lowered. "Because of the … impending alliance and the threat of war, Lacour has been updating me with reports on their progress. I should not speak so freely of this, but I feel it is necessary."

Of course. Now it made sense."That was the visitor you were speaking with before we arrived," Dias clarified. "The messenger from Lacour. The kingdoms expect the battlefront to expand from El."

Roderick nodded. "We are anticipating it. We must. That is why the success of the Lacour Hope is critical. It is the focus, and the culmination, of numerous Heraldric experiments concerning the channelling of energy. Specifically, a weapon that channels energy, more powerfully than any one man."

Dias tensed. "You believe he is defecting from Lacour, or is after Lacourian technology?"

"Not precisely. You see– " The king stroked his beard. "At present, the Hope is more than thrice the size of a cannon, and would take at least two teams of the strongest horses to move. And it is still not complete." He took a breath, and shook his head. "It is impossible for such a weapon to exist."

There was no need to ask what weapon. "I know," Dias replied, easing slightly. "But he doesn't seem to be lying."

"I too do not believe he is lying. He seems an honest – if somewhat confusing – lad." Roderick stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But ... there is a difference between telling what you believe to be true, and telling what is true. This weapon cannot be."

Running his fingers along it, the object was smooth, compact, alien in shape and substance. Glowing runes, ever-changing, flowed up and down what he could only assume to be its face. Its function was unfathomable.

Out of range.

The voice was soft, almost sick with disappointment, carried gently by the faintest breeze.

And the glow in the darkness, like a tightly clustered swarm of fireflies, brighter than the burning of any lamp at night, vanished.

"I would be inclined to agree," Dias acknowledged. "But he has something else with him. He refers to it as …" He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "A communicator."

Roderick's eyes widened as the swordsman related his experience. "And when I first met him, he briefly described the weapon to me as well. He called it a phase gun, and didn't mention anything about energy or light, but the physical description seems … consistent." He frowned again, wondering what the deal with the barrel component was. "If outlandish."

"I have never had reason to doubt your judgment before – what you say must be true …" The king shook his head in confoundment. "This is a most troubling turn of events."

"Not to mention that you are assuming the Lacourian delegates are providing you with accurate information."

"They have given us no reason to believe otherwise. They are our allies."

"Thanks in large part to that impending marriage, I suppose," Dias returned evenly.

"Which is on the verge of being dashed to the rocks at the feet of Mount Lasguss," Roderick sighed. "I tell you, one day when you have children … ah, leashes or no leashes, it is no use. In any case, you are correct, again." He shook his head. "Someone is lying. Or both sides are telling the truth, and … I dare not even begin to imagine the darkest of what either possibility might imply. We … we cannot jump to conclusions we may prefer simply because of the circumstances.

"However," Roderick spread his hands in a helpless gesture, "our hands are tied. Cross has no further resources to investigate this matter. I ask that you do what you can to uncover the truth."

Dias shrugged, noncommittally. "I don't promise anything."

"That is more than understandable. My apologies for the request – I understand that even if it does fit into your training plans, it is a direction you certainly could not have imagined it would take, and is undoubtedly an inconvenience …"

"From what I've heard today, it may not matter whether there is a Tournament this year or not," Dias replied bluntly.

The king nodded perceptively. "You are right. I … We trust your judgment."

"Good."

"You may take your leave," Roderick said, but the swordsman was already making his way out of the chamber. He had no need for an attendant to guide him out.

Author's Notes: This is going to be a long-winded one.

After 37272342304823 years, it's alive again! I apologize for taking so long. I really want to thank everybody who left such wonderful, thoughtful and encouraging comments on this story, even though it has been lying dead in the mud for so long. Thank you! Your kind words definitely helped to keep me going whenever I hit a rut.

About this chapter … I should really call this story "If/Then: That Fic Where People Stand Around and Talk". Ugh. Political intrigue expert I am not. Also being anal on stupid little things doesn't help speed up the process either. XD; I reread the old stuff and winced a lot at the characterization, so there was quite a bit of reworking, especially in terms of dialogue.

I'm terribly sorry if the temporary resolution of the Claude-Chris situation turned out a little anticlimactic, but I didn't want to have Claude locked up and married off to the princess or something awfully groan-inducing like that – although I suppose this path is probably just as groan-inducing in its own way.

Regarding the "what's a phase gun look like?" sequence: rudimentary firearms like pistols and muskets were used in the 17th century, which is medieval enough for most people's tastes. I'm just conveniently ignoring them here :D Also oops! I completely forgot I already had a mini-scene like this in chapter 1, but I couldn't bear to delete the dialogue after I had written it, so apologies for the redundancy. Stupid me for trying to be clever and doing all these pointless things I forget about later on …

The intruder at the beginning was probably too obvious, but it's a hint of what's to come in the next chapter (with any luck): our segue into the main events of the beginning of the game, albeit from a different angle (literally) …

In short, hopefully more action-y things will take place next chapter, and hopefully it won't take a million years for that chapter to come out! Thanks so much for bearing with me!