Chapter 21 - The Serpent Beneath

At night, the Heroes' Hearth had never looked more inviting. The glow of fire and light came from within, flickering behind the lead-glass windows; the opposite of the murk that consumed Re-Estize, as twilight surrendered to night.

The weak radiance of the streetlamps, oddly faded, did little more than to create tiny, forlorn pools of radiance in a sea of darkness - Not for the first time, I was struck by how utterly, how completely, the face of the city was changed by the descent of the winter night.

We could have returned to the castle, of course. To the palatial staterooms set aside for us. But now, I knew it wasn't safe; Even in Valencia Palace - perhaps there more than anywhere else - the walls had ears.

And, if I'm being honest, I needed a break from Wolfgunblood for a while.

"Are you sure about this, Sir Samuel?" Climb asked, sounding a little anxious. He, of course, had to return; After what we'd heard, I knew - all too well - why he was worried.

"Perfectly," I said, forcing a smile. "I've kept you from your duties long enough. Give Lady Kelart and Sir Stronoff my regards, when you see them."

He nodded, though his troubled expression remained. "I just feel…" Climb began, his brow ever-so-slightly furrowed. "Sir Samuel, perhaps you'd be safer at the Palace…"

I had to admit: I was touched by his concern. Climb, I think, was a sensitive soul - It was rare for him to show emotion, but it hardly meant that he didn't feel it.

"I can take care of myself," I said, and smiled to take the sting from my words. "I'm tougher than I look, you know."

For a moment, he looked mortified. "I didn't mean-" Climb said, almost tripping over his own words.

"I know." A slight shake of my head, to reassure him. "Don't worry - I understand."

He nodded, solemnly, and squared his shoulders. Already turning to leave, when I called him back.

"Climb," I said, and proffered my hand. "Thank you. For everything."

He hesitated, just for a moment - And, at last, Climb smiled. Faintly, like the sun breaking through a cloud.

He clasped my hand, his palm well-callused from years of sword practice; "No," he said, firmly. "Thank you, Si - Samuel."

Spurs clicked against the cobbles, as Wolfgunblood approached. He had his thumbs hooked in his belt, his expression unusually thoughtful; "Give us a moment?" he said. Climb nodded, and withdrew to the carriage - Well-armed as he was, it wasn't safe to walk the streets at night.

Not for him, anyway.

What is it? I almost asked, but bit back my words. Instead, I settled for a more measured "-Is something wrong?" wondering what it could possibly be, now.

He didn't answer, not right away. Instead, Wolfgunblood stared out at the darkened streets, for a long, long moment. Then-

"You're not going back?" he said, without preamble. His breath misted around him in puffs of white cloud, his long coat fluttering in a sudden gust.

I shrugged. "I need to check in with Gustav and Kashan," I said, by way of explanation. "Perhaps they're doing better than we did." I had to hope so, at any rate; So far, our journey to Re-Estize was proving fruitless. Somehow, somehow, we'd been drawn into a complex web of obligation, for the faint promise of a reward at the end.

Wolfgunblood sighed. He looked romantically sullen, put-out - It took me a moment to realize it wasn't posturing: He was genuinely, inexplicably ill at ease.

"Yeah, well..." he said, glancing sidelong at me. "-It just feels like...We're jumping through a lot of hoops, you know? I mean-"

He lowered his voice. "Remember what I said about levels?"

I did. "'The NPCs here cap out around level thirty, max'," I quoted. "Something like that?"

"Right. So - Why bother with them?" Wolfgunblood fixed me with a stare, one amber eye and one crimson orb. "You know: All the 'Please, Lady Aindra, how may I take your order?' sh...stuff." He shook his head, wonderingly. "Please tell me you haven't gone native-"

I laughed. I couldn't help it; He'd mimicked my voice so perfectly, I couldn't hold it back. It caught him off-guard, I could tell - Maybe he'd been intending to mock me, but it felt good to laugh after an entire day of increasingly tense discussion.

"Ever been at war?" I asked, in the moment's grace it bought me.

He frowned. "Of course not," Wolfgunblood said, clearly wondering if I was a moron.

"Neither have I."

"Then why-"

"Because we're only going to get one chance at this," I said, cutting him off. "Wars turn on the smallest things. So much of failure is a failure to consider the details. Every little bit helps; Let's stack the deck in our favor as much as possible, while we can."

Was I getting through to him? I couldn't tell. I shifted gears, tried again.

"Besides - You mean you don't want Lakyus around?"

It was a feeble serve, and I knew it. But Wolfgunblood didn't smile, and that was when I knew we might be in trouble.

"...Did I ever tell you about the time I saved E-Rantel?" he said, looking pensive. Cautiously, I shook my head; I admit, he might have, but it was entirely possible I'd blocked it out. God knew he was keen enough to talk about himself.

"Well, it was this withered old fuck and a shitload of zombies. He wanted to blow up the city or something, I wasn't really listening. Kept saying some shit about how he was invincible, with the Crown of Wisdom and the Orb of Death. He had these knockoff dragons with him, and they didn't even-"

I was cold, tired, and my mind was swimming with the task ahead. I was in no mood for one of Wolfgunblood's interminable stories.

"Is there a point to this?" I said, testily.

Wolfgunblood scowled. "Just one thing," he said. "I never found the Crown of Wisdom, you know? The whole place had a...Not a smell. More like a sense. Like living gone bad, like…"

His brow furrowed. Words, apparently, had failed him.

"Anyway," Wolfgunblood went on, "-this city? It kind of feels like it. Something in the air, y'know?"

Now that had my attention. Suddenly, the shadows seemed longer, darker than before. I'd never been to E-Rantel, but…

"-You mean, he's still around?" I asked, cautiously. Where he was going with this, I wasn't quite sure.

"Not unless he's walking around without his head," Wolfgunblood said, smugly. "I'd like to see him come back from that. No, what I mean is...All this-" He waved a hand, taking in the entire city in a single vague gesture.

"...It feels like trouble."

I thought about that. Turned it over in my mind, for a long moment - Considering the angles, the flaws. Weighing the risks of what I knew, versus what might be.

Somewhere, there was a jingle of reins. Climb waited patiently in the carriage, though I could sense the tension radiating from him, even from here.

"There's always trouble," I said, without humor. "-The question is: Is it the kind we want?"

It wasn't hard to find Gustav and Kashan. They'd found a table at the corner of the tavern, away from the din of the laughing drinkers, conversing quietly as they shared a half-jug of wine. Even from the doorway, I could see that pair proved a contrast in body language; Kashan flourished his arms, slouched back in his chair, and drained his cup in a single gulp and gestured for another. Gustav contained himself, sitting ramrod straight with rigid military bearing, sipping his drink as he spoke in low tones.

But they did share one thing. Both men bore the same hangdog, vaguely sucked-in look of defeat.

Kashan looked up, as I approached. His features were florid, his eyes a little bleary as he loosened his collar. "Sir Samuel-" he began, making to rise - Or at least trying to. A moment later, he thought better of it, sinking more fully into his seat; That was probably for the best, given how heavily he'd been drinking.

I waved him down. "Don't get up," I said. "I was just about to join you."

He nodded, solemnly, as I pulled up a chair. I could sense the undertone of disquiet to both of them, as I poured myself a drink. The wine tasted sharp, resiny, and I set it aside after the very first sip.

"I-" Gustav began, and cleared his throat. "...I trust that your meeting went well, Grandmaster?" He frowned, slightly; "I don't see Ser Wolfgunblood with you-"

"He's returned to the Palace," I said, shortly. And the maids he hasn't fucked yet, I thought, and immediately felt guilty. That was petty of me, and I knew it. Still, I had an excuse - I was acutely aware that others might be eavesdropping on us.

It made me feel jumpy, paranoid. Off-balance. Not a good place to be, when I needed all my wits for what would come next.

"-the meeting went about as well as could be expected. We've got something to work towards, now - How it'll turn out, I can't say." That was putting it mildly, to be blunt. When I considered the scale of what lay ahead…

With an effort, I forced myself to smile. "And you? Any luck with the temples?"

From his grimace, I could tell it was the opposite. "Our timing was...less than opportune," Gustav said, choosing his words carefully. "The temples are willing to render what aid they can, but - That aid might be less substantial than we were hoping for."

"...How much less substantial?"

He looked away. "In truth, they were expecting aid from us instead. Re-Estize's relations with the faithful have been...troubled, recently." Gustav looked like he'd have preferred to stop there, but his innate honesty compelled him to keep going. "The Empire's been offering incentives to divine casters. Word is, service in the Imperial Army guarantees wealth and citizenship. For many, the first is reason enough to sign on."

I felt my heart sink. "-That bad?" I had to ask.

"It's not ideal," Gustav admitted, his drawn features weary. "The Holy Kingdom never had close ties with the Empire. The Bloody Emperor is an ambitious, driven man; his star is very much in the ascendant. Aggressively so, in fact."

"Then," I began, asking the obvious question. "Why didn't we-"

"...beseech him for help?" Gustav finished, rubbing at his chin. "The Empire might be willing to aid the Holy Kingdom - But the cost…" He grimaced, as if the wine had turned sour in his mouth. "It wouldn't take much for him to annex the North entirely. Then the South, and after that…"

He shrugged, heavily. "Hardly the best solution."

"Like sawing off your balls, when you've got crotch-rot," Kashan slurred, and burped. He swayed, slightly, his jowls quavering at his words - I'd never seen him quite this drunk before. "Apologies, Sir Knights-"

"It's fine," I said, ignoring Gustav's sharp, startled glance. When I turned to look at Kashan, he didn't meet my gaze, looking down into the rippling depths of his cup. "-Dare I ask…"

Kashan heaved a slow sigh, his eyes red-rimmed. "I'm truly sorry, Sir Samuel, Sir Gustav - I've failed you both," he said, morosely. "With the Annual War coming up...Grain's at a premium. You wouldn't believe the prices - They're four, five times the going rate. Vultures!" He spat the last word, as if personally offended.

He swilled his drink, downed it in a single gulp. "The Crown's been requisitioning everything. Their silos will be full for winter...And why not? They've got a quarter of a million men in E-Rantel. At this rate, there'll be food riots by spring…"

The smuggler shuddered, as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "We're right back to square one, Sir Samuel," he said. "I don't know where we're going to start looking. Oh, there might be enough to feed a family or two, but for an army?" Kashan shook his head, dolefully. "I pulled every dirty trick I could think of - I knew it might upset your sensibilities, but I thought the end justifies the means…"

Memory stirred. Gazef's words came back to me, then:

"Fighting dirty, occasionally, is no bad thing - Neither's breaking the rules. As long as you remember one thing."

"You have to understand the rules in the first place, if you're going to break them."

I shook my head. He looked so downcast, so defeated, I felt moved to try and soften the blow. "You did your best," I said. "I suppose it all comes down to the Crown's favor, in the end."

"Yes, well…" There was a distinctly bleak note to Gustav's voice. "I hope Lady Kelart's done better than we have." He looked uncomfortable; Clearly, he wasn't relishing the prospect of going back empty-handed. The paladin eyed me, sidelong...But at last, his curiosity overcame his natural reserve.

"If I may ask, Sir Samuel...What were the Blue Roses like?"

That was a...complex question. As Kashan's bleary eyes and Gustav's curious ones settled on me, I found myself momentarily at a loss for words.

"Well-"

Then:

After the first hour or so of discussion, the shape of things had gradually become clear.

As it turned out, Prince Zanac was more prescient than we'd first anticipated. He hadn't just brought Princess Renner into his little conspiracy; he'd enlisted a rather more potent ally, entirely.

"...Marquis Raeven's part of this?" I couldn't help but ask. I'd realized that I was raising my voice, and hastily lowered it. "Is that...wise?"

I remembered Kashan's appraisal of him, the Marquis's incisive gaze, his mild but pointed questions cutting me to the quick. As he'd said: the man even looked like a snake. I had a feeling he didn't lack personal ability, of course, but whether he could be trusted…

"He might not look like one, but Lord Elias is a patriot," Lakyus had said, her brow ever-so-slightly furrowed. "The Marquis has been a staunch supporter of the King, since…" A pause. "-almost half a decade, now."

"He's got a son, hasn't he?" Gagaran had mused aloud, a thoughtful note to her voice. "Fatherhood changes some men, so I've heard. Maybe he's mellowed out, eh?" She'd nodded sagely, brawny arms folded across her gleaming chest-plate. "I suppose it's a question of finding the right woman...Or, in a woman's case, finding the right man-"

Her gaze slid meaningfully to Lakyus, who colored. Lady Aindra had cleared her throat, meaningfully - the flush to her cheeks lingering, as she turned her gaze back to the map.

As if, I thought. People don't change, not that much. No doubt there had been a furious round of negotiation and double-dealing behind the scenes, until the Marquis had found a way to arrange things for maximum advantage. The thought of it made me weary; for a moment, I envied Princess Renner, blissfully oblivious to all this.

"Well, whatever the reason may be - Princess Renner trusts him. And I have faith in her judgement." Lakyus frowned, a cloud passing across her features...But then she shook her head, and the shadow passed.

Climb had nodded, as if that had put all his doubts to rest. Perfectly reasonable, his expression said, but I wasn't so sure. Maybe, for him, it was that simple.

In the end, it all came down to politics. Unlike the vast, unwashed masses of common soldiery, the glittering ranks of nobility had standards. Given how E-Rantel was largely considered a grimy, uncouth place - overrun with hard-living soldiers and worse, commoners - few preferred to stay there any longer than absolutely necessary.

The glittering spires of the capital were (to most nobles) infinitely preferable to the more modest accommodations of the fortress-city. With a quarter of a million men encamped there, it promised to be a long, miserable winter; As Gustav had said, up to a third of their forces could be lost to disease, desertion, hunger or other privitation, by spring.

It was a staggering number. More than eighty thousand men, written off before they ever stepped on a battlefield.

Keeping the above in mind, the lowest rungs of nobility and their retinues would be the first to begin the trek. Wagon upon wagon of provisions, furnishings, hanger-ons, gilded uniforms, all rolling along roads that were mainly just muddy slush now. Wine, too, in case victory (somehow) turned up unexpectedly.

It didn't matter that they were the first to arrive. Accommodations had long-since been reserved for the rich and powerful, the Nobility faction and the Royalty faction. Drawn up on opposite sides of the city, like feuding camps, those not drawn into their orbit had to pay, usually at exorbitant rates, to secure what they could - Townhouses, converted shophouses, or (in extremis) the officer's barracks.

Most preferred to simply take matters into their own hands. More than one family had been summarily evicted, their lodgings claimed for the 'good of the state' - Something which the population had just loved, I'm sure.

As one of the glittering luminaries close to the King, Marquis Raeven's personal forces would be one of the last to decamp. In addition to his household guard, he had a team composed of former orichalcum-ranked adventurers, currently at liberty in the capital; While his men were ostensibly being drilled relentlessly, shuffled around the capital on a series of interminable military exercises, they were preparing for a war rather closer to home.

When the signal was given (according to Lakyus) the plan was to move out and - in a series of decisive strikes - assault the holdings of the Nine Fingers. It would be swift and necessarily brutal, to prevent the alarm from being raised, to stop the Nine from slipping away. If all went well, it would be a triumph of careful planning and strategy over the creeping corruption that was gnawing at the Kingdom's very heart.

If it failed-

"And that," Lakyus had said, iron in her voice, "-is why we cannot fail. No action can be taken until we're absolutely certain...Prince Zanac will settle for nothing less."

Given what I'd heard of him, and the exacting care with which this web of intrigue had been woven, I didn't doubt it. It was a miracle that - as far as I knew - this had somehow been kept from the nobility faction; I couldn't imagine how long this had taken to plan, the measures taken to ensure it remained secret. It told of a ruthless strategic genius, a mind that shied away from nothing.

And yet, I could tell that Lakyus wasn't truly comfortable with this. "This 'Hilma'..." she'd said, sounding thoughtful - "...You're certain she'll grant you an audience?"

"I have an invitation," I'd answered, less than certain myself. "It's worth a try, isn't it? If you have a better idea, I'll gladly defer to your judgement, Lady Aindra."

She shook her head, that long braid swaying. "Very well, then. But be wary, Sir Samuel - Things remain precarious. A word to the wrong person, and it could all come crashing down."

That hadn't reassured me in the slightest. I'd nodded, feeling my throat tighten. "I'll be careful," I said. "If I find anything-"

"Climb knows where to find us," she said, and Climb had nodded in acknowledgement. "Climb, if I may impose upon you…"

"Of course, Lady Aindra," he'd said, loyally. But then, a question passed across his clean-cut, determined features; "-If I may ask, what about Lady Evileye?"

"She's got her hands full at the moment," Gagaran said, looking less than entirely happy. She rubbed at her chin, pensive now - "If anything goes wrong, Shorty's one teleport away, isn't she?" A glance at Lakyus, as if for confirmation.

"Perhaps," Lakyus said, her green eyes thoughtful. "I'd prefer her to support Tia and Tina for as long as possible. They'll move a lot faster, that way." A little sigh, as she glanced to the side; "I know they're safe, but...I've never been comfortable with dividing our forces like this."

So the Blue Roses had other members, too. I could tell that Lakyus would've preferred to be with them - Gagaran, too. I knew how they felt: All this cloak-and-dagger made me achingly, painfully aware how out of my depth I was.

Wolfgunblood made a low, pensive sound, the ember glow of his crimson eye flaring brighter. I turned to look, but he said nothing - I wondered what he was thinking, but his impassive expression showed only languid disinterest.

That seemed like the natural conclusion of the meeting. Gagaran was already gathering up the scrolls and parchment, sliding them back into their ivory tubes with deft gestures; I cast around for anything else that I'd missed, and came up with nothing.

"Then, with your leave…" I began, only to realize that Lakyus was staring at me. Expectantly, as if hoping for something. Puzzled, I glanced at Climb; he merely shook his head, uncomprehending.

Wondering if I'd made some faux pas, I felt compelled to ask; "Uh, Lady Aindra, if there was something else-"

Lakyus' full lips twitched. For a moment, she looked almost embarrassed. Then-

"Well-" she began, her fingers drumming lightly on the wooden table. "I do have a favor to ask, Grandmaster Samuel."

Her green eyes met mine, bright with some secret emotion.

"...If it's not too much of an imposition, perhaps we could compare weapons?"

What? I thought, and - fortunately - my mouth didn't catch up with my mind. Seeing my expression, Lakyus hurried onward, as if rushing to get all the words out at once. "It's just that - I've yet to see a Holy Sword for myself. I've read all the legends, and I've always wondered how it feels to wield one. If only for a moment-"

Flame.

A great blast of it, hungry tongues of actinic fire searing skyward. As the steady writhe of flame seared along the blade, Lakyus was smiling - grinning, almost - with the utter lack of reserve of a maiden whose fondest dreams had just come true.

"So this is the Sword of Justice," she breathed, her voice low, reverent. The flamelight gleamed in her eyes as she held the flaming blade at arm's-length, mesmerized by the arc-welder's flare.

Climb stared, open-mouthed. When I glanced at him, he shut his mouth with a click; he made a show of adjusting his swordbelt, but I could tell he'd been momentarily transfixed too.

"Uh - Lakyus, there is a lot of wood in here…" Gagaran looked notably less full of girlish excitement, leaning back as Lady Aindra gave the Interfector a practice swing. Fiery contrails flickered in the weapon's wake, the crackle of flame like slow thunder; she swept it back and forth with unrestrained exuberance, highlights glittering in her honey-blonde hair.

"I can feel it - Kilineiram recoils! The Blade of Infinite Darkness senses its twin; A power greater than the Ring of the Holy Valkyrie!"

There was something fey about her, something that drew me up short. Climb's eyes immediately flicked to Lakyus' sword, then back to me - And, in truth, I was beginning to feel that this was a terrible mistake.

"Good job, 'Grandmaster'," Wolfgunblood muttered, at my side. "That's my World Item she's swinging around-"

"I couldn't say no, could I?" I hissed back, more than a little defensive. I felt my hands bunch into fists, a thrill of dread coursing up my spine. If it came down to it, Wolfgunblood was the only one who could stop...whatever this was. But he remained seated, immovable as a rock, with a calm that quite surprised me.

"Well, you've got her handling your sword, so I guess it's a start-"

I wondered how he could joke at a time like this.

"Lakyus-" Gagaran began, torn between edging away and stepping closer. Her eyes narrowed, unease flitting across her craggy features.

"The blade that wounded the Black Knight, breaker of the Evil Sword Hyumilis-"

"Lakyus!"

Lakyus made a sound, somewhere between a squeak and gasp. She blinked, shaking her head, clarity returning to her features. High color lingered in her cheeks, as she seemed to come back to the here and now; for a moment, she looked almost embarrassed, biting her lip in momentary agitation.

Then - and only then - did I begin to breathe again.

Carefully, she sheathed the blade, her gaze lowered. "My apologies, Sir Samuel," Lakyus said, laying the scabbard down on the table. "For a moment, I was...I don't know what came over me." Her eyes lingered on the weapon as I buckled the Interfector back in place, my knees going weak from the momentary rush of relief.

Never again, I thought, exhaling slowly. My pulse, hammering in my ears, slowed to something approaching normal. No one's that lucky twice.

Ever.

Now:

"...They're everything the stories said, and more," I said. "-I've got absolute faith in their ability."

Gustav's weary features broke into a smile. "That's good to hear, at least," he said. "Two adamantite-ranked teams, working together...It's like something out of myth. I don't think that's ever happened, not since the time of the Thirteen Heroes-"

Kashan snorted, his eyes hooded from too many drinks. "Way things are going, we might need the Thirteen Heroes, " he muttered, looking utterly despondent. "Might be that Landfall hisself couldn't stop the Prophet. Might be-"

He reached for his cup, and almost knocked it over. Adroitly, Gustav moved it away - "I think you've had enough for the night," he said, not unkindly. I don't think Kashan heard him; the smuggler looked older than I'd ever seen, the good cheer draining from his features.

"It's a punishment upon us," he was saying, his words slurred, unfocused. "What's the world coming to, when a man can't make a - a life for himself? Twenty years hard work, and it's all gone up in flames…"

"Come on," I said. "-Up you get." I eased one limp arm over my shoulder, as I heaved Kashan from his seat. He was a leaden, lolling weight, but that didn't seem to pose a problem. But when I caught a whiff of his breath, I winced - the man smelled like a distillery.

"How much did he put away?" I asked, and Gustav shook his head. "I've never seen him like this," the paladin said, a note of unease to his voice. "Usually, he's the one who drinks me under the table."

I had an inkling why. I'd seen the locket Kashan carried with him, tucked beneath the voluminous folds of his clothes. The primitively-rendered profile of a woman and children - in watercolor - held within.

Aloud, I merely said: "-Let's get him to his room."

Between the two of us, we took the steps one at a time, hauling rather than carrying. Kashan was drowsing, by the time we eased him into his bed; He rolled over to one side and began to snore, his jaw slack. One hand groped briefly for his neck, before it too fell away.

"Thanks," I said, and Gustav shrugged. "He'll have a sore head tomorrow," he said, drawing the blankets up around Kashan's form. "We should leave him to it, Sir Samuel - We've done all we can."

The door shut with a dull click behind us, as we stepped out into the corridor beyond. At this time of the night, the hallway was mostly empty; the sounds of merrymaking issued from the floor below, fainter than before.

"-Sir Samuel."

I half-turned, startled from my reverie. Gustav - his lined features oddly careworn - looked worriedly at me from under his brows.

"...Is everything all right?" he asked, his expression troubled. "You seem-" a flicker of hesitation, as he searched for the words. Not wanting to give offense, I could tell.

"Go on," I urged. "Don't hold back on my account."

He chuckled, lightly. "My apologies. Force of habit - Commander Remedios tends to be, well…" A grimace, his voice trailing off. "Not that I have any complaints, of course," Gustav added, hastily. "She's the paragon of the Holy Order, after all - the Holy Kingdom's greatest paladin! I have nothing but admiration for her."

I nodded. I couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of sympathy; Remedios was simply the most terrifying woman I'd ever met, made more so by how she was utterly impervious to fear or doubt. For her, thought and deed were one.

I could see how that might be hard to deal with.

"You were saying?" I prompted, hoping to keep his mind off things.

"-you look exhausted." A pause. "I don't mean to pry, but…"

I forced a smile, or the closest to one I could manage. "Well, I am tired," I said, careful to keep the sting from my words. "-It's been a long day, after all."

My body might not wear down easily - But my mind was a different entity entirely. I wanted nothing more than to sink into bed, to cease thinking for a while. Anything to stop the thoughts whirling through my mind, the half-formed fears and fantasies about what might come next.

Gustav nodded, a little abashed. "Of course. It's just that…If you ever feel in need of counsel-"

A brief glance confirmed we were alone; Now was as good a time as any.

"There is one thing," I said. "There's someone I'd like you to investigate - A 'Hilma'."

"Hilma...the name does sound familiar, but I can't place it-" Recognition flared, a moment later. "...You mean - the lady at the royal ball? Viscount Fondoll's mistress?"

How he'd remembered that, I had no idea.

"She's no lady," I said, almost to myself. "Let me know if you can find out anything about her - Discreetly, if possible."

"Ah," Gustav said, sounding ever-so-slightly dubious. "-Ah." He cleared his throat, looking worried; "If I may ask: Is this a personal matter, or…?"

"Don't misunderstand," I said, more sharply than I'd intended. "The Viscount's part of this, too. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can leave."

He nodded, lowering his voice. "As you say, Sir Samuel. I must confess...That's been weighing on my mind, the whole time." Gustav's brow furrowed, his gaze going distant; "I keep asking myself - How does the Liberation Army fare?"

A slow, weary sigh. "Our task is necessary, and yet...It doesn't make me worry any less."

"My bro-" I began, my voice catching at the now-familiar pang of grief. "Someone I knew always said: 'the sooner you start a job, the sooner you get to finish it'. Keep at it, and - one way or another - you'll get there."

Samuel always smiled, when he said that. Used to, at least. Like a private joke - there always was a light at the end of the tunnel, but getting there...That was the tricky part, the part most people didn't like to think about.

Still, it was something to hold onto; a reminder that, in time, all things come pass.

The things I'd missed. All because I'd been too busy, too focused on-

...filling out spreadsheets.

I don't think I fooled Gustav for a second. But he knew enough, even then, not to inquire further - "Wise words," he said, and then nothing more.

And I thought: We'll get there, all right.

But will we be in time?

The next day had dawned without haste, snowflakes sifting from the grey winter sky. The sun had risen late, and I'd awoken when it was still dark; By the light of a lantern, I'd drawn forth Samuel's Encyclopedia from the Item Box and began to read.

It'd made little sense to me, at first. The very first page bore the cracked legend 'A DMMO-RPG where strength is not everything', positively arcane now. I'd flipped through the pages, skipping through the painstakingly-compiled maps of the Nine Worlds, as distant as a dream. Past the list of races and now-defunct controls, copy-pasted advertisements looming like the banners of some phantom army.

There were chunks of text that had been migrating between versions forever because people never felt like taking them apart and fixing them. In-line comments referencing this update or another, until the cryptic chapters started to feel like they were all part of one huge, sinister rat's nest of fragmented knowledge, like bright shards of mirror lost in the tangle.

Even at the end, when the servers had been shutting down one-by-one, when the playerbase had fled to other worlds like rats from a sinking ship, the breadth and variety of Yggdrasil was extraordinary and never-ending. The sensation was one of an inner fullness, limitless wealth, the barely-remembered feeling of a vast adventure stretching out ahead of you, like the infinite vista of the horizon.

At last, I was beginning to see - as never before - the scope of their achievement.

Why Samuel had made it his life.

PALADIN (CLASS):

The compassion to pursue good, the will to uphold law, and the power to defeat evil - these are the three weapons of the paladin. Few have the purity and devotion that it takes to walk the paladin's path, but those few are rewarded with the power to protect, to heal, and to smite.

Divine power protects the paladin and gives him special blessings. It wards off harm, protects him from disease, lets him heal himself, and guards his heart against fear. The paladin can also direct this power to help others, healing their wounds or curing diseases. Finally, the paladin can use this power to destroy evil. Even the least experienced paladin can detect evil, and more experienced paladins can smite evil foes and turn away undead.

In addition, this power allows the Paladin (depending on his subclass) a unique expression of his ideal of Justice, ranging from divine magicks to superlative sword skills to condemning those who oppose him.

Paladins must be lawful good, and they lose their divine powers if they deviate from that alignment. (See: Dark Knight, Cursed Knight, Exalted Templar, Occluded Knight, Empyreal Champion, Divine Sword-)

And beneath, tagged in bold:

Parhelion

Vorpal

Sinistral

Calamity

Surge

Quicksilver

Sevenfold

The amendments had come later, the cryptic fragment Mn. affixed at the very end.

What it meant, I had no idea. I had a sense that I was on the very edge of a revelation, one that was on the very tip of my tongue...But meaning eluded me.

For now.

I leaned back. Trying to make sense of it made my head hurt. It had been almost a decade since I'd played Yggdrasil, and the game had grown massively since then - At the end, things had become bloated, top-heavy, thoroughly impenetrable.

I didn't appreciate the irony that if I'd spent more time on it, all of this would have been much easier.

I rose. Tilted my head back, looking out at Re-Estize, slowly coming back to life. For a moment, I wondered how many others were looking at the same landscape - What they had been thinking, when they found themselves in this strange, alien, yet oddly vital world.

In a way, I had been fortunate. There was nothing for me to go back too. Wolfgunblood was too young, too shallow, to care. But for anyone else-

I shook my head, pushing my thoughts aside.

No point in thinking about that.

Not now.

The carriage rattled to a halt, the clatter of hooves and the snorting of horses giving way to a faint jingle of traces. It'd taken some discussion to explain exactly where I wanted to go, at first. But the coachman had been more than happy to accommodate me, as soon as he'd seen the color of my money. I'd paid him in gold, and his eyes had widened, his breath catching as he contemplated the faceless coins I'd handed to him.

Funny, that. Even here, gold was everything.

According to Gustav, the ideal time to pay a call was no earlier than the late afternoon (at best). It seemed unnecessarily obtuse to me, but I supposed that was simply the way things were.

Besides, I'd wanted to see the city for myself.

I'll admit - for the first time, I could see why Wolfgunblood had been so jaded, so bored. Left to his own devices, he must've entirely exhausted his concept of 'entertainment' in his first month.

As for me-

My first month had been fear, terror, then the ravaged ruin of Loyts. There was always a need for a helping hand, in the frenzy of activity that had come after the city's liberation. I'd spent most of that time in armor, until it had felt like my second skin. Outside of it, I felt light, superhuman. Like I could jump up, break through the sky with my hands and never come down.

It's startling how fast the mind can get used to anything.

I'd mentioned my misgivings to Gustav, and he'd put them at rest.

"It'd be strange if you weren't seen around the city," he'd said, frankly. "At the Palace, you'd be even more closely watched." The paladin offered me a grim smile - He knew exactly how I felt about that. The sense that there were eyes in the walls, that every corner held a spy.

"Don't worry. If the need arises, you'll be the first one we'll call upon."

That had settled it, then. For the first time since my arrival, I was truly alone, and truly at liberty.

For a certain sense of the word, that is.

As it turned out, Hilma - Hilma Cygnaeus, apparently - maintained her lodgings in one of the most fashionable neighborhoods in the city. Here, the narrow streets widened out into open, pleasant boulevards, straight as arrows and well-paved. Yet, even here, I could see gaunt figures huddled in the street corners, hands held out in supplication.

Don't get me wrong; I'd seen my share of beggars before. But to see them here, in the shadow of the magnificent homes of the wealthy and stylish, was something of a shock - Even more so when I noticed that some of the most wretched-looking vagrants didn't wear the tattered broadcloth of the lowest classes, but swathed themselves in the remains of frock coats and the shabby ruins of what might have once been fine riding cloaks.

Once, a long time ago, these had been men of substance.

I wondered how much worse things would get, if the Annual Wars were allowed to continue. If - as Lady Aindra had said - the Nine Fingers were given free reign to hollow out Re-Estize's soul.

My guess was, a lot worse. Faster than anyone could expect.

Hilma's abode was an elegant townhouse of pale stone, with the graceful arches and latticed crossbeams of the latest style. The windows shimmered with tinted glass, the porch overlooking a well-kept garden of winter blossoms and carefully-pruned trees.

While Hilma might not have been nobility, she definitely had some other great means of income. A place like this meant more than just a fortune; It meant a sustainable one.

I'd arrived in the blue and white of the Paladin Order, clad in one of the fine dress tunics I had found in the Palace's guest chambers. It was new enough to feel stiff against my skin, to make me acutely aware that I wasn't used to wearing something like this; As a footman helped me down from the carriage, I couldn't help but feel that - somehow - the joke was on me.

"You are expected," he'd said, gesturing to the front door with a spotless white-gloved hand. He'd bowed, just this side of obsequious - But that was Re-Estize for you. Deference, it seemed, was baked in.

No. I was being ungenerous - I supposed it was much the same in the Holy Kingdom.

I just hadn't noticed it at the time.

The front door opened into the gleaming expanse of the main hall, all rare woods and coloured marble. The effect was impersonal, but impressive; Even as I took in the tableau - lit by the soft, perpetual radiance of light-stones and glow-globes - I couldn't help but feel that there was something carefully affected about all this, as if every article of furniture arranged for maximum effect.

"-Grandmaster Samuel. In the flesh, at last."

It was a soft sound. Husky, almost a purr, spiced with gentle amusement.

I looked up, and - I'm not ashamed to say - my breath caught.

I'd first seen Hilma in the latest fashions, adorned with jewels and gilded finery. Now, clad in a simple gown of white silk, she was somehow even more stunning. There was something sultry, faintly voluptuous about her; an air of excess that was simultaneously cloying and alluring all at once.

Her violet eyes met mine, her full lips curving in a slow, secret smile. The faintest wisp of smoke trailed negligently from her lips, slim fingers curled around the ivory stem of her still-smoldering pipe.

"...To what do I owe this pleasure?"

It was startling how good Hilma was at this, how effortlessly she'd taken control. Every inch the perfect hostess, she'd steered me to the finely-furnished sitting-room, a healthy fire already crackling in the ornate hearth between two antique vases. Rich tapestries dressed the walls, with a truly impressive oil painting taking center stage.

A maid - blonde, lovely but unspeaking - brought in a silver tray of refreshments soon after that. She lowered it onto the marble-topped occasional table, a silent question in her incurious gaze.

"That will be all, Succy," Hilma said, that same smoky lilt to her voice. Amusement flickered in her eyes, as if at some private joke. "Sir Samuel is a gentleman, after all. I shall be quite safe."

Succy nodded, a simple tilt of her head. The look she gave me was dour, almost unfriendly, as she withdrew - As if she'd taken my measure, and hadn't liked what she'd seen. Why, I couldn't begin to guess.

"Pay her no mind," Hilma said, that half-smile lingering on her lips. "She's concerned for my reputation, that's all...I suppose she suspects you have improper intentions."

"I don't-" I began, but she cut me off with a negligent wave.

"You don't? Ah, well." she saw my expression, and giggled. "That was a jest, Sir Samuel. Don't look so awfully serious."

Fabric rustled, as Hilma eased herself onto a chaise lounge. The diaphanous silk of her gown gathered itself around her long, smooth legs, as she crossed them with a supple scrape. She leaned forward, lifting the lid of a porcelain teapot; the scent of jasmine filled the air, steam wafting upwards like coils of scented incense.

"Tianxin tea," she said, a note of pride to her voice. "-All the way from the Dragon Kingdom. I hear they drink it with butter, but I've never seen the appeal."

I sipped, politely. It had a delicate, subtle taste, one that dissolved on the tongue. The cream-colored biscuits - elegantly arrayed on a small platter - had a crisp citrus flavor, a delicious complement to the tea.

"It's delicious," I said, and Hilma smiled.

"I do try my best to entertain," she said, nibbling daintily on a biscuit; Somehow, she made it a performance, those slim fingers handling her teacup with equal grace. All the while, her violet eyes lingered on me, watching and weighing.

"So - What brings you here, Sir Samuel?" she asked, leaning her chin on an upturned palm. Trails of smoke curled from her pipe, on its silver stand - Never far from her hand, filling the air with that faintly cloying scent. A teasing lilt slipped into her voice; "Surely, my wiles haven't ensnared you this quickly?"

I could've brushed it off. Could have staunchly denied it - But I knew that neither would have been sufficient. A poker face wouldn't have done it, either; that would've shown I was thinking, and sometimes, thinking wasn't called for.

More, I wasn't sure she hadn't.

Instead, I hesitated, for less than the span of a second. "No," I said, already hating myself for it, and I glimpsed a subtle shift of Hilma's expression. Good or bad, I couldn't tell.

Now seemed as good a time as any. I put down my cup - carefully, on the equally delicate saucer - and leaned forward, producing the tiny box of wine-dark wood I'd brought with me. "A token of my appreciation," I said. The words felt too smooth, too polished, in my mouth; Still, Hilma received it with a nod, her slim fingers tracing over the tawny swirl of grain.

"Indeed?" she said, that slight smile lingering. I couldn't help but wonder how many such gifts she'd received before, whether that smile was earnest or well-practiced. "You shouldn't have, Sir Samuel. I'm afraid you'll quite turn my head with-"

The catch opened, with a faint click - I heard her breath catch, as her violet eyes fell on what lay within. Those full lips shaped an 'O' of surprise, as - with infinite care - she withdrew a finely-detailed brooch of mercurial metal, polished and unadorned, so black it burned with an eerie non-light.

"-is that…?" Hilma began, hushed now.

"Adamantite," I confirmed, aware that I'd lowered my voice, too. She made a wordless sound of fascination, turning it over and over again - Folded into its iridescent surfaces were ghostly images of intertwined serpents, a knot of perfect symmetry without beginning or end.

Most stunning of all, beyond the simple elegance and curious captivation of the thing, a perfect teardrop of ruby-red was held suspended at the very heart of the brooch, its face uncut by diamond facets or inelegant designs. Like something not cut from the earth, but grown in some secret crystal garden.

"This is...It's gorgeous," Hilma murmured, her voice quiet. She pursed her lips, surprise flitting across her features; for the first time, I sensed a note of uncertainty to her voice. "Are you sure…?"

I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak. I caught the faint flush to her cheeks, the high color to her pale skin; In the dancing firelight, her coiling tattoo seemed to flicker, shifting in time to her slightest motion. As Hilma pinned the jewel in place, I was suddenly aware of how the painted serpent wound across, then down one slim shoulder, almost but not quite tracing the swell of one full breast-

I cleared my throat, averting my eyes - But I could still hear the faint whisper of fabric, the sweetly cloying scent that lingered in the air. When I looked back, she'd eased her form a span closer to mine, her wavy bangs framing those subtly slanted eyes.

"Why, Sir Samuel," she breathed - Almost, but not quite teasing. That secret smile lingered on her lips, her soft chuckle achingly close. Her long lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly, and I couldn't help but wonder how they fluttered in other moments.

Passionate ones.

"-perhaps Succy should be worried, after all."

As it turned out, I was in over my head. Way over.

For my part, I had the chance to realize how striking Hilma was, how she had risen to her current prosperity through sheer charisma alone. Her mind was brilliant; Charming, witty, incisive and formidably knowledgeable. It was a pleasure to talk to her, to listen to her speak - She made the complex, interconnected social whirl of Re-Estize society sound so vibrant, so fascinating, even an outsider like me was held rapt.

Hilma, as I understood it, was something of a facilitator. She owned several properties in the capital; Well-finished, exquisitely furnished, they were preferred meeting grounds for those of the nobility who didn't have estates large enough to host balls and soirées of their own. This made for a complex web of favors granted, favors returned - Parlayed into wealth and further opportunities.

Of course, this meant she rubbed shoulders with every variety of the upper-crust, most of whom had nothing going for them other than a pedigree as long as my arm. Hilma seemed to particularly enjoy telling me the histories and the follies of the nobles she'd met; there was almost no-one worth noticing without some eccentricity, some secret.

To win at this game, you had to keep one foot in the ballroom, and the other knee-deep in the sewer.

Once the tea and the biscuits had been cleared away by Succy - as unspeaking and as unsmiling as before - Hilma had excused herself, returning with a narrow-necked crystal bottle of deep amber whiskey. "A gift from an admirer," she'd said, a half-smile on her lips. "It seems a shame to drink it alone…Wouldn't you say?"

Unfortunately, it'd been wasted on me. The dark, burnt-chocolate scent, with notes of heather, and honey, and dark, complex fruitiness; none of it changed the simple fact that I was still stone-cold sober. Would always be, in fact.

But it brought more than high color to Hilma's cheeks - she spoke a little more freely, a little less guarded, clearly enjoying the novelty of it. I was an outsider to Re-Estize politics - a non-factor, interested in little else but the coming war. For all the nobles relied on her, I sensed that they considered her something grubby but necessary, well-paid but never respected. In spite of everything, I had the sense that rankled her. She might never admit to herself, might never have consciously known it, but it was there.

In a way, I suppose, I was taking advantage of her, too. That thought sent a sharp pang through me - What would happen to her once all this was over?

"-I'm not boring you, am I?"

I looked up. Hilma canted her head to one side, regarding me with those remarkable violet eyes - Stray strands of pale blonde hair clung arrestingly to her cheeks, as she cradled her half-full glass in slim fingers.

"I suppose it must be familiar to you - being to the manor born, and all," she said, frank curiosity in her gaze. "To be Grandmaster of a knightly Order...Why, you must spend all your time in exalted company." I could hear the question in her voice, as she gave me a long, lingering look; it made me pleasantly uncomfortable, even as I felt my gut clench in warning.

I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn't smart enough to lie to her.

"Less than you'd think," I said, willing the truth into my words as I met her gaze. "Until a month ago, I'd never even met the Holy King - or the Twin Wings." I made myself smile, setting my glass down. "Since then, we've been at war the whole time. All I have - all that means anything - is what I could take with me."

"Then-" Hilma began, touching her fingers to the brooch. Her slim eyebrows bunched, in sudden realization. "This is…"

"It's - something of an heirloom," I said. Not quite the truth, but she was expecting that. "It's yours. No-one's worn it better."

Vendor trash, Wolfgunblood had called it. According to him, Yggdrasil's endgame had Prismatic Ores that made adamantite look like tin. I mean, you could melt it down for a few ingots or something, he'd said, with a shrug. Man, the Platinum Spire's loot sucks. You'd think they'd drop Exalted Orbs or something…

I had only the faintest idea what he'd meant, but I'd kept the brooch and the others like it.

She looked at me, slightly surprised, and then smiled as if charmed by something that had never occurred to her.

"You know," Hilma said, reflectively, "I thought the Holy Kingdom was - if you'll forgive me for saying so - a joyless place. Ask anyone, and they'd tell you: It's all piety and virtue, all the time. Prayer, five times a day, and flagellation in-between."

She took a slow, measured draw on her pipe, slim fingers caressing the stem with a negligent grace. "And yet, you're excellent value. Have you seen some of Re-Estize's younger noblemen? They're so ridiculous, and yet they take themselves absolutely seriously."

Hilma sat back, with a languid, almost feline grace.

"Did you hear what Viscount Fondoll said, after your match? He said he'd have done better." Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, in the universal gesture of barely-contained contempt.

"From what I've heard, he barely knows the difference between both ends of a sword-"

"Viscount Fondoll-" I began. Too quickly; I knew it was a mistake as soon as I spoke. I couldn't hide the edge to my voice, the abrupt note of urgency that meant more that just casual interest.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice trailing off as she read my expression.

"Ah," Hilma said, softly. Full lips curled, ever-so-slowly, in a wry smile. Knowing, yet - somehow - faintly disappointed, all at once.

"-So there is something you want, after all."

Next: The Strength of the Wolf