The king's eyes gazed lazily out the window, watching the afternoon sunlight bathe the distant city in orange. After several days of traveling and speech-making and the other harrowing events of the past several weeks, his body felt drained of energy. He thought it strange, given the increased stamina lent to him by his dragoon spirit, even now tucked safely away in a hidden pocket. Absentmindedly, he pushed his thoughts toward it until he could feel the swell of rushing wind lying in wait within the emerald gem. He could feel its power flowing through him, still though he was, and untroubled by conflict. It lent him strength. And yet…

"Your Majesty," someone whispered into his ear.

"Hm?" All at once, Albert came to himself, glancing around at the captains and advisors surrounding him. Embarrassment mounted in his flushed cheeks as he righted himself and nodded.

"I apologize, gentlemen," he said hurriedly. "I appear to have lost my focus for a moment."

He glanced to Noish at his left, who seemed unconcerned with his lapse in attention. Albert, however, was ashamed. The last time he had let his mind wander during a meeting was perhaps two decades ago.

"Please, do not apologize, sir," said one of the captains. "I was only explaining the state of the Seventh Knighthood. We took several losses during the attack on the city, but—"

"Forgive me, sir," interrupted another captain. Albert turned to see Kaiser step forward. "The king is tired from his long journey. Perhaps we should table such discussions until a later date."

"No, please," said the king. "I am doing well. I would very much like to know how the country has been faring the past several weeks. Let us continue."

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped slightly. He hoped that no one noticed.

"Your Majesty," eased Noish. "If I may, I believe that Sir Kaiser is right. I believe that it would be in your best interest, and the country's, for you to take the rest of the day to get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow as well."

"I assure you—"

"And I insist."

The king met Noish's gaze and found his advisor's characteristic sincerity and kindness. Sighing, he resigned himself to his fate and turned back to the captains.

"Very well, men," he said. "My finest of warriors, we will meet in two days' time to discuss the intricacies of what transpired in my absence and what steps we must take from here. Please forgive me as I recuse myself."

Standing, Albert nodded and smiled to each of them before announcing the end to the meeting and heading down the hall. He was not surprised to hear Noish's light footsteps follow behind him, contrasting his own heavy footfalls. His leather boots were now well-worn and had been encasing his feet for over a day without reprieve. Although he kept it to himself, every step had been a pain as he had marched around the castle today. The pain was only greater now as he pushed down the hall, ignoring his surroundings, running on instinctual memory until he found himself at his bedroom door. Swiftly, he swept it open and stepped inside, taking just a moment to appreciate the furnishings.

The room was exactly as he remembered. His desk, bed, and bookshelves were in the same places. The papers on his desk were still piled in the same organized stacks. It looked as if he had never left. And yet, it felt as if he had been gone a lifetime.

Acutely aware of the minister's presence behind him, Albert continued into the room, making his way straight to the window and pulling open the curtains. He had come to appreciate the outdoors as he never had before, having lived in them for so long on his journey. Something about the night sounds had become a comfort to him. He smiled as he unlatched the window and pushed outward, exposing the beautiful city of Bale. And beyond it, he could see the mountains and just make out the forests and plains beyond. How was it that he missed them so? Was he not home?

"Your Majesty," began Noish, who stood patiently at the door. "May I enter for a moment?"

"Of course," replied Albert as he shrugged off his travel-worn cloak and tossed it over his desk chair. "How may I help you, my good friend?" His longing to remove his boots, belt, and dirty clothing intensified as he inched closer to comfort, but he resisted the temptation.

"Your Majesty." Noish tilted his head slightly as he slowly shut the door. "Forgive me. I have served faithfully as your advisor for twenty years, and another eight for your father before that. For twenty-eight years I have filled this role, and never another. But now I am afraid I must abandon my post for a brief moment."

Leaning on the back of the chair and trying to ignore his strong desire to sit in it, Albert furrowed his brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I must speak as your friend," the old man replied simply.

"Noish, you have been fulfilling that role for as long as I can remember," laughed Albert.

"No, my king. I have only ever acted upon your initiative. I must now take initiative of my own and speak to you of a matter without your prompting."

Albert gestured invitingly. "Then speak, friend."

"How are you?"

The king almost laughed at the simple question as he responded, "I am quite exhausted, now that I think of it. I think I may just lie down—"

"No, sir, I apologize. Allow me to speak more directly." Noish took several slow steps into the room. "The captains, along with many in the castle, have been whispering amongst themselves since your return earlier today. You bring to us, not just yourself, but also the heroic dragoon who saved Hoax, not to mention several other powerful warriors who you say have done us many services. And yet, we cannot help but notice a profound absence."

Sighing, Albert surrendered and sat down in the chair, leaning forward on his knees. He glanced over to the lance now resting against his wall, deposited there earlier that day. Of course the vacuum of Lavitz had not gone unnoticed.

"We had heard nothing of your fate after your capture until very recently. We all had great fears and doubts in our minds of whether we would ever see you again, to the point that many of us discussed the potential step of surrendering to Sandora. With no knowledge of whether our king lived, it seemed that it might be the right solution to spare the most lives. And then we heard the news that not only had you somehow survived, but you had broken out of Hellena Prison, traveled to the enemy capital, and overcome the emperor himself. And that was all the information we had. We were overjoyed to see you back with us, sir. But… it appears that your return brings with it some grief. Am I correct in assuming this?"

There was a long pause as Albert tried to compile the correct phrases. Eventually, all he said was, "Yes."

The silence persisted for another moment until the king continued.

"I was taken directly to Hellena Prison. By carriage. As fate would have it, we managed to catch up to one of the two scouts along the road, somewhere between Hoax and Lohan. I believe that Garet was killed near Bale, but Isaac had continued. He attacked the guards transporting me in an effort to free me that went drastically wrong. I presume that it was at this encounter that he was injured. Later that night, he arrived in Lohan, found Sir Lavitz, and conveyed our message. Shortly after, he died of his wounds."

The king paused once again as he fostered the courage to continue. Until this moment, he was not aware of the effect his return to Bale seemed to be having. He had known that coming back to the castle would resurface memories, but as of yet, none had come. At least… no clear memories.

"Instead of coming back to aid his city, Lavitz – along with Dart, Shana, Rose, and Haschel – set out from Lohan to rescue me from Hellena Prison. For those few days that I was there, I was beaten and starved, barely given enough water to survive. I was exposed to the harsh elements atop the prison. At one point, Fruegel stabbed my leg. It would have gotten severely infected had not Shana healed it later. But she did. She did because they came for me. And at the top of that prison…" Albert sighed and closed his eyes. The image flashed across his mind once again. "Lavitz gave his life to protect me."

"Your Majesty…" said Noish, shaking his head in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"I am sorry that I did not write a letter," Albert said quickly. "I should have, and I meant to on multiple occasions, but I could never bring myself to do so. Somehow, I was afraid that it would make it more real. With the mission of killing Doel, and then putting things to rights in Kazas, and then traveling back, I have had too little time to process what happened. And now, back in Bale, it affronts me. I know that my companions feel the same, especially Dart."

"Respectfully, sir, it is not Dart that I am concerned about. My loyalties lie with you."

Albert smiled weakly. "Of course," he said.

"Do you wish to discuss it any further?"

"I think… I need more time first."

Noish nodded. "When you need to speak with someone about all this, I will always have an open ear for you."

Standing, the king extended his hand. "Thank you," he said solemnly.

"Always, my friend," replied the minister as he shook Albert's hand.

As Noish pulled back his hand and turned toward the door, Albert felt something heavy weighing on his heart. He searched himself for the source as Noish's hand touched the handle.

"Noish," he said suddenly.

He turned slowly. "Sir?"

"There is something else."

"Of course, sir. What is it?"

Hanging his head, Albert replayed a scene in his mind – Doel before him seething in his rage, lust for power dripping from his lips. Taking a deep breath, Albert spoke, surprised to find his voice the tiniest bit shaky.

"Doel… killed my father."

Taking a step forward, Noish whispered, "My king… I am so sorry."

Almost ignoring the minister, Albert spoke again. "All these years, all this time that I denied it. I thought that I had properly mourned him. I thought that was in my past. I'll never forget the pain of his passing, or that dull ache that still mounts in my heart today when I think of him. But I thought… that I was okay. But I think that, for the past twenty years, I have been holding onto a secret and quiet rage. A rage directed toward my uncle. I denied myself the luxury of embracing it. I put it off, hidden in the back of my mind, until I was faced with him. I met my uncle and he confirmed what I'd known since – since I was a child."

The king stopped. His voice had cracked, an uncomfortable feeling for him. He had not wept for his father in almost fourteen years. He had not shed more than a few tears in even longer. Too many people had relied on him each day for emotions to break him. Even after Lavitz's passing, he had only wiped his eyes twice. And the last time he had used contractions, excepting their escapade into the Black Castle, was the day his father died.

What was this grief? What right did it have to barge in on him, strength renewed, after all this time? His country and people needed him now more than ever, and here was his pain to strip away his efficacy. Here was his pain – he now realized – the source of his exhaustion.

"He was killed in his own home," said Albert quietly. "My uncle, his own blood, murdered him."

"Albert," whispered Noish.

Slowly, the king lifted his head. Noish had never spoken to him in this fashion before, with no title of respect. And now, this great advisor of morals, who had carried him through so many difficult and treacherous times, who had stayed by his side through war and peace – this rock upon which he had stood for twenty years – now cried before him.

As tears fell from Noish's aged eyes, Albert found that he could hold his in no longer. He stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around the old man's shoulders, as they both quietly wept. Until this moment, Albert in his selfishness had all but forgotten that Noish had known his father as well. They had served the country together for nearly a decade before King Carlo had died. Albert knew his own rage against Lloyd at Lavitz's death; how it must feel for Noish to learn about Carlo's twenty years later!

For several minutes, the two commiserated in their ancient anguish until slowly they pulled apart, still sniffing, and took seats facing each other.

"I am sorry," said Albert, "that I did not discover the truth sooner."

"No, sir," replied Noish. "Do not apologize for any of this. None of it was your doing. To have found the truth at all is a miracle. I should thank you for doing so. I had suspected Doel for many years, but I believe I thought as you did: that it could not be true. As you know, your uncle was kind and beloved by the people."

"Yes, that he was."

"I mourn his death as well. Though Doel was corrupted by evil toward the end of his life, he served Serdio well before the secession. He would have made a good king."

"…Better than my father?"

The minister seemed almost affronted at the question as he said, "No, of course not. Doel had charisma, but your father had wisdom and kindness, two traits that he passed onto you." The king smiled and looked down. "He knew how to lead a people. He made mistakes, of course. We all do from time to time. But we could not have asked for a better king."

Still grinning, Albert said, "I hope to one day be like him."

"Oh, but you are!" exclaimed Noish. "My king, you are wise beyond your years, and rule with a kindness that all can see. It is not just those in this castle who appreciate you, but everyone beyond the walls as well. You have captivated the hearts of all of Basil. And it is not through some façade like so many kings in the past. It is through a genuine expression of who you are."

"Noish…" The king started to protest, but thought better of it. "Thank you, my friend. You—"

At that moment, he was interrupted by a distant boom. Both heads snapped to the window, and they rushed over, fear of something terrible flashing through Albert's mind. Perhaps there had been an accident in the city. But as his eyes scanned over the houses, he saw nothing. The city rested peacefully, except for some muted chatter drifting up from the courtyard below. Albert's eyes lifted to the distance until he saw the faintest wisp of smoke rising over the low foot of the nearest mountain.

"What was that?" asked Noish.

"Do you see that?" Albert pointed toward the smoke.

"Yes, but— My lord?"

Albert's hand had flown to his chest, where his heart beat wildly. For the briefest of moments, he had been almost entirely overcome by grief and anger. But the emotions were distant and unfamiliar. Without thinking, he reached into his pocket and extracted the dragoon spirit, holding it tightly in his hand as he eyed the familiar emerald glow.

What are you trying to tell me? he asked the gem.

As if in response, he felt a wave of heat wash over him, and suddenly he realized.

"I am sorry," he said hurriedly, as if it would dispel the look of confusion on Noish's face. "I must go check on something. Forgive me."

Anxiety took hold of Albert's gut, twisting it into an uncomfortable knot as he rushed down the hall, ignoring the pain in his soles, abandoning the worry of Noish behind him as he made his way to the guest wing. After too long a walk, he turned a corner to see Haschel and Shana speaking in the hall.

Without preamble, he called, "Where is Dart?"

"Albert!" exclaimed Shana, who walked toward him quickly. Her face was wrought with worry as tears welled in her eyes. "We don't know. We've been knocking on his door, but I don't think he's in there."

"Which room is his?" asked the king. When Shana pointed, Albert pushed past them and banged on the door furiously. After a moment of silence, he wrenched the door open and stepped inside.

The room was almost untouched, but the curtains were closed, and the bedsheets seemed slightly rumpled on one side.

"Where is he?" Albert muttered under his breath.

"Did you hear that explosion?" asked Haschel from behind him.

Albert nodded as his mind raced with possibilities.

"And then after that…" said Shana.

"Yeah, Shana and I both felt something from our dragoon spirits."

"Grief and wrath," stated Albert.

"And fire," came Shana's trembling voice.

Albert turned and marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Rose!" he called out. There was no response. "Where is Rose?" he asked the others.

"I think she's still in her room," said Haschel, nodding to one of the doors.

Again, the king approached and knocked ferociously, but this time there was a response. A mere moment later, the door swung into the room, revealing a mildly irritated Rose, surprisingly out of her armor. Albert noted the pouch hanging from her belt, undoubtedly containing her dragoon spirit. Suddenly he realized that she must be able to remove it from her armor, and almost immediately began trying to understand how such a contraption would work. But that was not why he was here. He shook his head to focus before speaking.

"Can dragoon spirits communicate with each other?" he asked.

"You want to know what all that was with the explosion." Rose's response was more of a statement than a question. When Albert nodded, she opened her door a little wider, inviting them in as she turned away and walked toward her window. "The short answer is yes, they can," she said as they filed into her room. "Especially if someone holding a dragoon spirit is in immediate danger."

"What?" squeaked Shana.

"Relax, he's not dead," said Rose harshly. Albert gave her a stern look. She ignored it. "Dart is having a rough time being back in Bale. He misses Lavitz. But he's not dealing with it like he should. I would guess that he's taking it all out in fire form in the forest, and something got a little too hot for him to handle. He might have hurt himself a little bit, but I'm sure he's just fine. He'll be back tonight, I'm sure."

"So what was that feeling, then?" pressed Haschel. "Some kind of distress signal? Why go off if he's fine?"

"In a way, yes. And in a way, he's not fine."

Fighting to let reason overcome his frantic emotions, Albert turned and walked up to the vanity, fingering a brush as Rose continued talking. He was frustrated with himself for losing his sense of poise and fought to regain it. He was a king, after all. He made a mental note to apologize to Noish later.

"Dart needs help," Rose went on. "Enough that he's likely becoming a bit self-destructive. His dragoon spirit was warning us of that."

"What can we do to help him?" asked Shana. She had managed to recover a smooth tone, though her fidgeting fingers did not escape Albert's notice.

"That's up to Dart," said Rose simply.

"She's right," inserted Haschel as he put a hand on Shana's shoulder. "We can't really do anything unless he lets us. And in his state… he might not for a long time."

"We can't just do nothing," insisted Shana.

"Shana," said Albert, setting down the brush and facing her. "Sometimes we must yield people to their own demons so that they will learn to turn to others. Dart simply needs to—"

"You can't all be thinking that we should just turn a blind eye!" she cried. "Rose said it herself: he's become self-destructive. I can't just stand by and let him kill himself!" And with that, she stood and all but sprinted out of the room, slamming a nearby door a moment later.

The room was silent for a moment, and Albert sighed as he slumped onto the bed. Rose continued to gaze out the window, and Haschel glanced back and forth between them, clearly preparing to speak.

"That went great, guys," he finally said. "Truly stellar management of the situation. Are we going to try to fix it?"

Sighing in defeat, Albert put his head in his hands and leaned forward on his elbows. He was unsure how he felt. Too many things had happened too quickly for him to keep up with his own emotions. The feeling was eerily reminiscent to how he had been coping the past several weeks. He certainly felt better and lighter having spoken to Minister Noish, but so much of that process felt incomplete. He needed time alone to properly sift through everything.

"That's it?" challenged Haschel. "No defense?" Bleakly, Albert turned his head up to look at him. Then in a mocking voice, Haschel said, "Oh no, Haschel, I doth declare that I made the correct decision, as I do in all matters pertaining to humans and laws and… government… and things. I do not dare make mistakes because then someone might laugh at me. Whatever shall I do—"

"That is quite enough," warned Albert sternly.

"Finally got a response," breathed Haschel. "Listen, I know I contributed to Shana's outburst, but at least I didn't tell her that Dart has 'demons.'"

With a sigh, Albert composed himself and said, "I realize that I do not always say the right thing, but I sincerely believe that Dart will not listen to us or let us help him during this time. He must come to the realization that he needs help before he will ask for it."

"I agree," Rose said lazily.

"He might not accept help," began Haschel. "But I think Shana's right. It doesn't mean we shouldn't try. What kind of friends would we be if we just let Dart kill himself?"

"I must apologize for our irrational behavior," said Albert, standing suddenly. "This is a difficult time for Dart, Shana, and me. In no way do I mean to say that your grief – or Rose's – is any lesser than ours, but this place is attached to our memories of Lavitz." Upon hearing the name, the mood in the room changed. Haschel dropped his gaze, and Rose shifted between her feet at the window. "Being here is not easy for us. This city was his life and his love. Please be patient as we work through these emotions."

"Then do the same for Dart. Be there for him. And for Shana, for that matter."

The king was not entirely prepared for the shame that swept over him, but he did not get a chance to react as Haschel turned and said, "And Rose, it couldn't hurt for you to be a little less… you. Be there for a friend who's hurting. I'll see you both later." And with that he walked out the door.

Mere moments later, Albert realized with painful acuity that he and Rose had not spent a lot of time together before now. He glanced over at her, only to find her in the same position as before, gazing out the window as if he were not there. Shifting between his feet, he struggled to decide whether he should stay or simply leave, but eventually he found himself speaking.

"Perhaps he is right about Dart."

Rose gave no response.

"Perhaps we should… try to help him. Even if he will not receive it."

Nothing.

After another moment, he tried once more.

"I know that you did not know Lavitz in this city," he said cautiously. Her response was as he had predicted: stiff and almost imperceptible. "But I also know that you knew him. No doubt you were a good friend to him, as I am sure he was to you." Once more, he paused in case she wished to answer, but no reply came. He continued. "We are all grieving. And it is okay for you to do the same. Should you need to speak to anyone, I know that each of us would be more than willing to lend you an ear."

After waiting a few seconds longer with no response, he surrendered to her steely will and turned to leave. Just as he reached the doorway, however, she spoke, freezing him in his tracks.

"You remind me of someone," she said.

"And who is that?"

"Someone I used to know. He was clever, like you. And he had this innate pursuit of knowledge. Finding new information was like this thrilling hunt to him. And like you, he would talk for hours about the things he loved, but they were almost always things no one else wanted to hear about. He was one of the most passionate men I've ever met, but only about knowledge. He was utterly clueless when it came to normal human emotion. Always absorbed into his books and scrolls, forgetting there even was an outside world sometimes." She whirled to face him, something fierce hidden behind her eyes. "Do you know what happened to him?" she demanded.

Albert dared not reply. Receiving Rose's wrath was not a thing he thought comfortable, and he decided to try to weather the storm through silence.

"He died, Albert," she said. "A lot of people died. You know why? Because everyone dies. We can't afford to let ourselves sit around and wallow in grief. If we took time to mourn every person that we know who is going to die, we would never move again. I can't sit in that pain."

As Albert listened, his brow grew increasingly furrowed. Rose's sadness was apparent and raging. She still mourned the loss of her friends, and most likely the loss of Lavitz as well. No doubt this most recent loss was bringing out emotions long since hidden. He felt a strange kinship with her in this moment, having just discovered his own lingering pain at his father's murder while he still tried to cope with Lavitz's absence. Rose held up a tough exterior, but inside, it appeared that she was as human as everyone else.

Suddenly Rose turned back to the window, clearly expecting him to leave. But instead he took two tentative steps toward her.

"I cannot begin to understand what all you have gone through," he began slowly. "And I do not pretend to. But I do know this… Sitting in the pain of loss is not the same as grieving. Grieving is a process that leads to growth. It leads to healing. What you describe only leads to bitterness and anger." He paused. "I know that you have been alone a long time, Rose. But please understand that that is no longer the case. You have friends again. You should not push them away. They – we – can help you through this process. But it is as you say of Dart; you cannot receive help if you do not choose to."

Once again, he was met with silence. He turned for a second time, but had not even made it one step when she spoke once more.

"You're kinder than he was."

Albert smiled. "Thank you," he said. And with that he left.


It was not until several hours later that Albert was met with calm. After the incident with the strange explosion, the king had hurried back to Noish and then to the other captains to explain that there was nothing to worry about and nothing to be done. The entire time, he had been uncomfortably conscious of his filthy and worn tunic and trousers, no longer hidden beneath his long, filthy and worn cloak. He thought himself foolish for having set it aside and then neglecting to retrieve it before this event, but the men were gracious and said nothing of his lackluster appearance, and instead did their best to heed his words and minimize their frantic whisperings about a possible incoming army. It took more effort than he would have liked to quell the fear of such an event. The war had left more than one kind of scar on his people.

By the time he had finished with the captains and advisors, it was nearing time for dinner. There was little time to rest – only enough to prepare. But still, he wished to take full advantage. He had spent long enough in these grisly vestments; it was now time to adorn something suited to his office.

After arriving in his room, he immediately stepped up to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out what he sought: a clean, tightly-woven brown shirt with golden embroidery across the chest, and trousers to match. He was excited to be so clothed after so long in the wilderness.

And yet, after tugging off his boots, he did not change immediately, but sat for a moment, stretching his toes and wishing for his bed. More than once, he glanced over to it, and then to his bookshelf, strongly considering cancelling the dinner event in favor of his literature.

At long last, he shook his head and said to himself, "No. You cannot afford the luxuries of such simplicity right now. You are a king. 'A king must fulfill his word, even if it is against his own wishes,'" he quoted.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, remembering his father's words from many years ago. They had come out of his mouth before he had realized their origin, and he now found himself wishing for his father's counsel. So much of his life felt broken, both within him and without. He mourned Lavitz and his father, his inner being seethed with rage at their murders, and his country lay torn asunder by war. Somehow, he must find a way to stitch it together before leaving on a long journey that could last several months or more. Was he truly ready for such a venture? Could he be the king his people needed right now, even with the storm swirling within his own soul?

"It does not help that Dart is being so reckless," he thought aloud. "But Shana is right; we cannot simply leave him to his fate. We must intervene for him before the danger surmounts his will." His compounding frustrations escalated to a fearsome storm in his mind, and he paused, taking in deep breaths.

Presently, he began to imagine his father as he had been in Albert's youth. In his mind's eye, Albert saw the former king sitting in his favorite chair in his chambers. A soft smile lit up his face.

"I do not know if I can be who I need to be right now," Albert told his father. "I feel that too much is at stake. Should I fail in any way, it could have drastic or even catastrophic consequences for my people. How can I be a dragoon and a king?"

His father merely grinned in response. Opening his eyes, Albert chuckled and shook his head. "How foolish," he muttered. And yet… somehow he felt calmer. Emotions never ceased to be a strange and elusive force to him.

Standing abruptly, he cast off his traveler's clothing and pulled on his kingly vestments. Still barefoot, he stepped over toward the window, reaching up to tie his hair back as he did so. Despite the earlier confusion, the city lay peacefully before him. He could no longer make out any smoke in the distance, but some amount of worry persisted in troubling his heart. Perhaps he should make time to speak with Dart on a different day. Or perhaps he would come to dinner. It was not to be anything luxurious, but rather a meeting of mutual comfort for some close friends. Beyond the dragoons, the only people who had been invited were Noish and Kaiser. But, Albert now realized, Dart had not been made aware of these limited arrangements.

"He will not come."

The king sighed. His eyes scanned the city. Numerous people were out and about, scuttling around on their business, making the most of the last of the daylight hours. Scorch marks pocked the sides of buildings, entire pieces of the wall were still noticeably absent, and many a tree sported dead, ashy limbs. Such devastation had come to his city, and he wondered at how he would fare in the weeks to come. So many things needed to be accomplished before they could leave. Watching the city brought a feeling of helplessness and anxiety to Albert's heart. He was not even sure how many had died during the attack on the city. How was he to start rebuilding, as he had so passionately promised to do just a few hours ago?

His eyes wandered, finding scar after scar. With a jolt, he found the Slambert household on the far side of the city and drew in a slow breath. He dreaded the idea of announcing Lavitz's death to the people, so beloved he had been. But the worst of it would be having to tell his mother.

Turning from the window, Albert approached his tall mirror and inspected his appearance. Although his clothing had done its best to return him to former glory, his several weeks of travel were betrayed in his eyes, face, and hair. His hair was rough and unkempt, in desperate need of a thorough brushing; his skin was several shades darker thanks to his many hours in the sun; and dark circles ran beneath his eyes, evidence of his harrowing emotional journey. It was with a twinge of pride, however, that he noticed more toned muscle across his arms and chest; his shirt was a bit tighter than he remembered.

Still, frustration at his evident fatigue overcame him, and he grabbed a comb from his vanity, untying his hair and working it through the long strands. Gritting his teeth, he carefully picked out several tangles until the locks were acceptably smooth before tossing away the comb in exasperation and tying his hair into a tight bun. He rarely wore it like this, but the flaws were better hidden this way. With sudden realization, he regretted not having done something like this before his numerous meetings throughout the day.

With a quick glance to the clock sitting in the corner, he sighed and headed toward the door, hesitating as he placed his hand on the handle.

"Time to be a king," he muttered before tugging the door open.