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Chapter Text

It was half-past twelve when I was beaten to a pulp as a last desperate resort by my supposed friends. The scene of my disaster was as one could imagine.
Overturned cupboards, broken panes of glass and the innards of slit open cushions were scattered over the floor. A window had been opened through which my comrades had fled the scene and now it was letting in the fog instead.

Yet Lord Leo himself simply arched his eyebrows as though the only annoyance was that I had dragged him from his bed.

"Forgotten something?" said he, when he saw me bleeding on his carpet.

"No," said I, pushing past my pain without ceremony.

"They have left you as a decoy, haven’t they? Because I'm afraid it has worked. I can't give you the courtesy of taking that into consideration concerning your punishment. I am kinda sorry myself that the others—"

We were face to face now, and I cut him short. "Lord," said I, "you may well be surprised at my break-in this way and at this hour. I do not know you. I was never in your rooms before tonight. I simply did what I had to do to survive. Of course that's no excuse; but will you listen to me—for two minutes?"

In my emotion I had at first to struggle for every word; but his face reassured me as I went on, and I was not mistaken in its expression.

"Certainly, my dear man," said he; "as many minutes as you like. Take a breath and sit up." And the Lord uprighted a discarded chair for himself and took a seat.

"No," said I, finding a full voice as I shook my head; "no, I won't take a breath, and I won't sit up, thank you. Nor will you ask me to do either when you've heard what I have to say."

"Really?" said he, resting his head on one hand and fixating his clear red eyes upon me. "How do you know?"

"Because you'll execute me," I cried bitterly; "and you will be justified in doing it! But it's no use beating about the bush. You know these crooks were my only friends just now?"

He shrugged.

"I trusted them with my life."

"I see the result of that."

"I would have fought for them with my life, and I would have died for them happily."

"Well?"

"Not one of them hesitated in the decision to leave me behind, Lord. I am not even worth the carpet I’ve been slayed upon!"

"Surely you must not be without talent."

"No, there is nothing to speak of."

"But the guards told me that their comrades were shot right into the eyes with an arrow from a distance of 50 yards. And I have been informed that there was only one bowman on your team. As I see now that must be you, or is that not your bow that lies broken next to you?"

"So what if it is? All my talent for archery has been my curse; now even that is all gone! Yes, I've been a fool for thinking of those men as my friends; there never was nor will be such a fool as I've been.... Isn't this enough for you? Why don't you punish me now?"

He was musterring me.

"Couldn't your people take care of you?" he asked at length.

"Thank the dusk dragon," I cried, "I have no people! I was an only child. I came from nothing and will leave this earth with nothing. My one comfort is that they're gone, and will never know the things I suffered through."

I cast myself into a hunched position and hid my face. The Lord started to pace the rich carpet that was of a piece with everything else in his rooms. There was no variation in his soft and even footfalls.

"I believe that if a lost eye is no handicap for an archer of your caliber, then therein lies your profession," he said at length; "didn't you try being a mercenary before you became a thief? Mercenaries of all sorts are the very thing nowadays; any fool can make a living at it."

I shook my head. "Any fool wouldn't hire an archer with one eye," said I.

"Then if you have that much financial trouble you do have to sell the things you own. You have a flat somewhere?" he went on.

"Yes, in Mount Street."

"Well, what about the furniture?"

I laughed aloud in my misery. "There's been a bill of sale on every stick for months!"

"How am I to help you?"

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Then why confide in me?"

"Why, indeed!" I echoed.

And at that the Lord stood still, with raised eyebrows and stern eyes that I could meet the better now that he knew the worst; then, with a shrug, he resumed his walk, and for some minutes neither of us spoke. But in his handsome, unmoved face I read my fate and death-warrant; and with every breath I cursed my folly and my cowardice in talking to him at all. Because he had seemed kind to me, I had dared to look for kindness from him now; because I was ruined, and he rich enough to read books all the summer, and do nothing for the rest of the year, I had fatuously counted on his mercy, his sympathy, his words! Yes, I had relied on him in my heart, for all my outward diffidence and humility; and I was rightly served. There was as little of mercy as of sympathy in that curling nostril, that rigid jaw, those cold red eyes which never glanced my way. I would have run without a word; but the Lord stood between me and the open window.

"I know well what the law is in regard to burglary. Getting caught is a death sentence. So I beg of you. Do it now and do it quick!", I was positively spitting the words at him now.

Magical diagrams of the lords tome started to glow beneath me. The despicable satisfaction of involving another in one's destruction added its miserable appeal to my baser egoism. Mad with excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to accept the end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that he did not do it then and there. Had hate or disgust flown to my executioner's face, I shudder to think I might have died diabolically happy with that look for my last impious consolation. It was the look that came instead which held my breath. Neither hate nor disgust were in it; only wonder, admiration, and such a measure of pleased expectancy as caused me after all to falter.

For many seconds we stood staring in each other's eyes.

"Have you gone mad?" said he, breaking the spell in a tone so cynical that it brought my last drop of blood to the boil.

"You devil!" said I, as I recoiled from him. "I believe you don’t understand!"

"Not quite," was the reply, made with a little start, and a change of color that came too late. "To tell you the truth, though, I half thought you meant it, and I was never more fascinated in my life. No, I'm hanged if I let you go either way now. And you'd better not try that game again, for you won't catch me stand and look on a second time. We must think of some way out of this mess. I had no idea you were a man of that sort! There, let me help you up."

One of his hands fell kindly on my shoulder, while the other slipped into my overcoat pocket, and I suffered him to deprive me of my secondary weapon without a murmur. I obliged and this was not simply because the Lord had the subtle power of making himself irresistible at will. He was beyond comparison the most masterful man whom I have ever known; yet my acquiescence was due to more than the mere subjection of the weaker nature to the stronger. The forlorn hope which had brought me to the castle of Krakenburg was turned as by magic into an almost staggering sense of safety. Lord Leo would help me. It was as though all the world had come round suddenly to my side; so far therefore from resisting his action, I caught and clasped his hand with a fervor as uncontrollable as the frenzy which had preceded it.

"May the gods bless you!" I praised. "Forgive me for everything. I will tell you the truth. I DID think you might help me in ending my extremity, though I well knew that I had no claim upon your magic prowess. Still—for the dusk dragons sake—the sake of nohrian law—I thought you might give me the sweet relief of death. If you wouldn't I meant to do it myself—and I will still if you change your mind! Though I must thank you for giving me another chance!"

In truth I feared that it was changing, with his expression, even as I spoke, and in spite of his kindly tone and kindlier use of body language. His next words showed me my mistake.

"What a guy you are for jumping to conclusions! I have my vices, but backing and filling is not one of them. Sit down, my good fellow, and have a drink to soothe your nerves. I insist. Whiskey? The worst thing for you; here's some coffee that I was brewing when you came in. Now listen to me. You speak of 'another chance.' What do you mean? Another chance at burglary? Not if I know it! No, my dear man, you've plunged enough. Do you put yourself in my hands or do you not? Very well, then you plunge no more, and I undertake not to execute you. Unfortunately there are the other culprits; and still more unfortunately, I am as much in a predicament at this moment as you are yourself!"

It was my turn to stare at Lord Leo. "You?" I vociferated. "You in a situation between life and death? How am I to sit here and believe that?"

"Did I refuse to believe it of you?" he returned, smiling. "And, with your own experience, do you think that because a fellow has rooms in this place, and belongs to royalty, and plays a little by the rules, he must necessarily have an enviable life? I tell you, my dear man, that at this moment I'm as hard up as you ever were. I have nothing but my wits to live on—absolutely nothing else. It was as necessary for me to succeed this evening as it was for you. We're in the same boat, my friend; we'd better pull together."

"Together!" I jumped at it. "I'll do anything in this world for you, Lord," I said, "if you really mean that you won't force me away. Think of anything you like, and I'll do it! I was a desperate man when I came here, and I'm just as desperate now. I don't mind what I do if only I can get out of this remorselessly."

Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs with which his room was furnished. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale, sharp, clean-shaven features; his straight blonde hair; his strong, unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful eyes, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain—sifting the very secrets of my heart.

"I wonder if you mean all that!" he said at length. "You do in your present mood; but who can back his mood to last? Still, there's hope when a man takes that tone. Now I think of it, too, you were a plucky little devil; you sneaked in quite brilliantly. Well, wait a bit, and perhaps I'll be able to give you a chance to outdo yourself. Give me time to think."

He got up, took a last sip from his coffee, and fell to pacing the room once more, but with a slower and more thoughtful step, and for a much longer period than before. Twice he stopped at my chair as though on the point of speaking, but each time he checked himself and resumed his stride in silence. Once he threw up the window, which he had shut some time since, and stood for some moments leaning out into the fog which filled the courtyard. Meanwhile a clock on the chimney-piece struck one, and one again for the half-hour, without a word between us.

Yet I not only kept my chair with patience, but I acquired an incongruous equanimity in that half-hour. Insensibly I had shifted my burden to the narrow shoulders of this splendid friend, and my thoughts wandered with my eyes as the minutes passed.

The room was the good-sized, square one, with the folding doors, the marble mantel-piece, and the gloomy, old-fashioned distinction peculiar to the nohrian west. It was charmingly furnished and arranged, with the right amount of negligence and the right amount of taste.

What struck me most, however, was the absence of the usual insignia of a royal's den. Instead of the conventional rack of war-worn weaponry, a carved oak bookcase, with every shelf in a litter, filled the better part of one wall; and where I looked for ancestry charts, I found reproductions of such works as "The art of decrypting magical runes" and "A comparative analysis on the usage of the tomes Ragnarok and Fenrir," in dusty book covers and different parallels.

The man might have been a major scholar instead of a brute mage of the first water. But there had always been a fine streak of aestheticism in the complex profession of witchcraft; some of these very books had forbidden content—they set me thinking of yet another of his many sides—and of the little breach of customs to which he had just resorted.

Everybody knows how largely the tone of a kingdom depends on that of the nobility, and on the character of the royal children in particular; and I have never heard it said that in this time our tone was good, or that such influence as he troubled to exert was on the side of the angels. Yet it was whispered in the streets that he and his siblings were in the habit of indirectly defying their father's orders wherever they could unnoticeably. It was whispered, and disbelieved. I alone knew it for a fact; for this night I witnessed it.

He stopped and stood over my chair once more.
"I've been thinking of a way to set things right," he began. "Why do you start?"

"I was thinking of it too."

He smiled, as though he had read my thoughts.
"Well, you seem the right sort of beggar just before; you didn't talk and you didn't flinch. I wonder if you're up for a challenge?"

"I don't know," said I, slightly puzzled by his tone. "I've made such a mess of my own affairs that I trust myself about as little as I'm likely to be trusted by anybody else. Yet I never in my life went back on a friend. I will say that, otherwise perhaps I mightn't be in such a hole tonight."

"Exactly," said Lord Leo, nodding to himself, as though in assent to some hidden train of thought; "exactly what I need, and I'll bet it's as true now as it was ten years ago. We don't alter, my friend. We only develop. You would stick at nothing for your Lord—what?"

"At nothing in this world," I was pleased to agree.

"Not even at a crime?" said Lord Leo, smiling.
I stopped to think, for his tone had changed, and I felt sure he was chaffing me. Yet his eyes seemed as much in earnest as ever, and for my part I was in no mood for reservations.

"No, not even at that," I declared; "name your crime, and I'm your man."

He looked at me one moment in wonder, and another moment in doubt; then turned the matter off with a shake of his head, and the little cynical laugh that was all his own.

"You're a nice man! A real desperate character—what? Suicide one moment, and any crime I like the next! What you want is a chance, my friend, and you did well to come to a decent law-abiding Lord with a reputation to lose. Nonetheless we must have it resolved tonight—by hook or crook."

"Tonight, milord?"

"The sooner the better. Every hour after ten o'clock tomorrow morning is an hour of risk. Let one of those overly loyal royalists find out what we are up to, and you and I are executed together. No, we must settle our affairs tonight and do so quickly. And I rather think I know where to start."

"At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Yes."

"But how—but where—at such an hour?"

"We’ll visit a sister of mine here in Castle Krakenburg."

"You must be very intimate!"

"Intimate's not the word. I have the knowledge of this place and a latch-key all to myself."

"You would knock her up at this hour of the night?"

"If she's in bed.", said he with clear amusement in his eyes at my choice of words.

"And it's essential that I should go in with you?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I must; but I'm bound to say I don't like the idea, milord."

"Do you prefer the alternative?" asked my companion, with a sneer. "No, hang it, that's unfair!" he cried apologetically in the same breath. "I quite understand. It's a beastly ordeal. But it would never do for you to stay outside. I tell you what, you shall have a peg before we start—just one. There's the whiskey, here's a syphon, and I'll be putting on my armor while you help yourself."

Well, I daresay I did so with some freedom, for this plan of his was not the less distasteful to me from its apparent inevitability. I must own, however, that it possessed fewer terrors before my glass was empty. Meanwhile Leo rejoined me, with his armor, and a soft felt collar attached to it. He shook his head with a smile as I passed him the decanter.

"When we come back," said he. "Work first, play afterward. Do you see what day it is?" he added, tearing a leaflet from a calendar, as I drained my glass. "March 15th. 'The Ides of March, the Ides of March, remember.' Eh, those days, my friend? You won't forget them, will you?"

And, with a laugh, he threw some coals on the fireplace before snuffing out the candles like a careful householder. So we went out together as the clock on the chimney-piece was striking two.

Chapter Text

We met no other people as we made our way through the deserted hallways of Castle Krakenburg. That is, until we took a sharp turn around a corner and were favored with a very hard stare from a guard who did his rounds. The man, however, touched his helmet on recognizing my companion.

"You see, I know a few guards personally," said Leo as we passed on. "Poor devils, they've got to keep their weather eye open on a night like this! A fog may be a bore to me, but it's a perfect godsend to the criminal classes such as yourself, especially so late into the season. It’s a shame some of them fell victim to you. Here we are, though—and I'm hanged if the woman isn't in bed and asleep after all!"

We had turned into the west wing, and halted a few yards down on the right in front of a big wooden door.

"Better give it up for tonight," I urged. The rumors spoke of the woman as if she was the devil herself. Even her own subjects used the infamous sobriquet “The Bloodaxe” rather than her name and I was sure she didn’t acquire such a title by accident.

"Not a bit of it," said Lord Leo. "I have her key. We'll surprise her. Come along."

And seizing my right arm, he hurried me forth, opened the door with his latch-key, and in another moment had shut it swiftly but softly behind us. We stood together in the dark.
Outside, a measured step was approaching; now, as it drew nearer, my companion's fingers tightened on my arm.

"It may be Camilla herself," he whispered. "She's the devil of a night-bird. Not a sound! We'll startle the life out of her."

The measured step had passed without a pause. Leo drew a deep breath, and his singular grip of me slowly relaxed.

"But still, not a sound," he continued in the same whisper; "we'll take a rise out of her, wherever she is! Slip off your boots and follow me."

Well, you may wonder at my doing so; but you can never have met Lord Leo. Half his power lay in a conciliating trick of sinking the commander in the leader. And it was impossible not to follow one who led with such resoluteness. You might question, but you followed first. So now, when I heard him kick off his own boots, I did the same, and was at his heels before I realized what an extraordinary way was this of approaching a person for assistance in the dead of night. But obviously Leo and she were on exceptional terms of intimacy, and I could not but infer that they were in the habit of playing practical jokes upon each other.

We groped our way so slowly through the room that I had time to make more than one note before we reached the end. The floor was uncarpeted. The air smelled rather sweet. But still, an eerie sensation had been upon me since we entered the room. It increased with every step we took. What beast were we going to startle in her cell?

We came to an adjoining room which I guessed to be her bedchamber.

Four steps more, and we were standing in the room, and suddenly a flame blazed from the black. I never heard it struck. Its flash was blinding. When my eyes became accustomed to the light, there was Lord Leo holding up the flame with one hand, and shading it with the other, next to a big canopy bed.

"What now?" I whispered.

"Hush! Wait!" he whispered, and he reached with one hand to the woman under the sheets. To my surprise she did look innocent enough, even though I couldn’t see more than her violet locks falling over her chiselled figure. Just when his fingertips were about to touch her, a sudden and fast movement arose from her. She was so swift that neither of us had much time to react and had Lord Leo not jerked his head back in that moment it would have been cut clear in half by a gigantic axe.
His abrupt movement caused him to lose his footings and crash inelegantly into a cupboard that was placed against the wall. But as if that attempt at taking Lord Leos life was not enough she did not hesitate in throwing the axe in my direction. It whirled around its own pivot and made me buckle my knees and fall back as to avoid its sharp edges, before it burried itself into the far wall behind me.

“Camilla it’s me!”, cried the Lord in indignation.

“Leo?!”, she gasped, “What’s this?”

The Lord righted himself and brought the flame that, in the moment of shock had blazed dangerously, back under control.
“A prank,” he said matter of factly.

This was met with confusion. “What kind of prank are you playing?”

“It’s played,” he stated.

“On me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She gasped. “But I almost split your precious, brilliant head in two.”

“I noticed,” he replied cooly.

She stood up. Her form-fitting nightgown was a pristine white. It pooled around her like liquid silk and hugged her in all the right places. She was a beast alright.

“That’s most unfortunate!” She said. “How come my baby brother visits me at such an hour? Is this because Elise suggested you had no humor?”

“No, it is nothing of the sort!” The blush that adorned Leo’s face at that proved him a liar. “I am here because I require your assistance.”

“Ah! Of course! I am always there for you, brother. But you must tell me. Who is this?” , she looked at me expectantly and not without some interest.

“This lad?”, asked Leo with a dismissive wave of his hand, “He is a friend of mine.”

“Well then. Does your friend have a name?”, she said, not without fluttering her eyelashes at me in a way that would make any man, no matter which affiliation he preferred, feel weak in the knees. Still, it in no way seemed to me that she was in any way trying to seduce me, on the contrary, it was clear that this was simply her natural preference of handling a conversation.

The Lord, however, caught none of this. “A name?! Of course! Of course he has a name. Friend, you have a name, have you not? So out with it!”

I cleared my voice and introduced myself in a smooth tone. “The name’s Niles.”

“What a pleasure it is to meet you, Niles.”, she held out her hand. I shook it. “I must say you have the most peculiar friends, dear brother.”, she said to Lord Leo, probably as a subtle way of commenting on my roughened up appearance.

“That assertion certainly bears some truth. However, my time is rather short. A very pressing affair of utmost urgency needs to be settled, so I shall be brief. What I require of you is a weapon for Niles. You do have quite the admirable collection.”

Camilla walked by me and used a commode as a stepping stool to reach her axe. She pulled at it and it settled back into her palm with ease.

“But brother,” she began and jumped back down, “if you have gotten yourself into a situation that requires brute force you need only ask. I would kill the world for my family!”

“I know your sentiments, Camilla. But this is an issue that requires the sort of delicacy of which you are not, through no fault of your own, capable of. It will suffice for us to choose a weapon and be on our way.”

“If that is all you came here for then you shall have it. But know that it pains me to see you so troubled and to not be able to stand by your side.”

He shrugged. “It was never my intention to cause you pain and you mustn’t worry. I am capable of handling myself and in any case, I’m not alone.”

“That is, in truth, another cause for concern.”, and this time she eyed me suspiciously and her voice was laced with an open threat attached to it.

Leo brushed this aside. “You mustn’t feign concern. I understand very well that I should not have disturbed your slumber in such a way.”

“That is not what I tried to say at all-”

He cut her off. “-Of course it’s not. You wanted to tell us about your weapons.”

“Mmh,” she yielded. “Alright. Follow me.”

And with this she led us, axe still in hand, to the room through which we had entered first. She lit the candles while we retrieved our boots and the sight was astounding. Every weapon that I had expected, and which were missing in the Lords quarters, were by all appearances assembled here. The walls were covered over and over in old war-worn and new polished weaponries of all sorts. Indeed, a few curiosities caught my eye; a Wyrmslayer, a Beast Killer, a Raider Axe; the sort of weapons that were of quite the fantastical character.

“So Niles,” began Camilla. She placed her axe upside down on the floor and put her hands casually on top of its handle, “What sort of weapon suits you best?”

“A bow would suffice.”

“So you are an archer,” she mused. ”Then you need to choose from over here.”

She took a few steps and with an open gesture invited me to take a good look at a small collection of bows.

I hesitated. “Can I choose freely?”

“Of course,” Camilla answered. “That’s what you came here for.”

“Can you tell me anything about these weapons.”, I asked while inspecting them.

“All of the weapons you see here stem from people I have personally killed in battle. These are, of course, only the more exciting models.”

“Sister, I don’t think he meant that,” Leo huffed. “I’m sure he wished to know something more practical like hit rates.”

“No, I am sorry,” Camilla said, “Bowmanship has never been of any interest to me so I really can’t help you, dear.”

“I’m sure Niles will manage.”, Leo said.

Whatever they said next I did not catch, for I tuned them out completely.

Weapons like these were hard to come by for the likes of me. If by any chance during my former life I would have happened to come across a weapon of such superior quality, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill the man wielding it and would have gladly ripped it from his dead fingers. However, no one carried such weapons.

How my heart rejoiced at the thought of piercing a mans skull with an arrow shot from one of these deadly pieces of craftsmanship!

I took the first bow into my hands and held it into the light. A rich mahogany handle and lavishly decorated elastic limbs. Beautifully crafted, but as I inspected it closer, useless. Only good for decoration if anything. I set it aside and reached for another, weighed it in my hand with some agitation; a fine lightweight model even though it did not look it. The handle was bound with red leather and the black wood was reinforced with metal, making the bow much more effective. I took a bowstring and drew the bow; professionally examining whether it was tense enough. Yes, my heart had settled on this weapon, and indeed, had it chosen a fine model. I took a red quiver filled with arrows with fletchings of the same colour from the wall and attached it to my belt.

“I’m good to go, milord.”

He examined me and it was obvious that he had observed me closely during my selection process.

It made me feel slightly uneasy even though I could not really pinpoint why.

“Alright,” he said. “Then I must say goodbye, Camilla. Your help is much appreciated. However, before I forget it, would you be so kind as to wake a maid up? There has been a minor inconvenience in my quarters that needs to be taken care of. Tell her that I am inconsolable that she must rise at such an ungodly hour, but as it is it can’t be helped.”

“I’ll see to it,” agreed Camilla. “And Leo?” We were already halfway out the door, he halted and fully turned to face her. She gave him a meaningful glance. “Take care.”

Leo pressed his lips into a line and his expression became stern, before giving a small nod. He closed the door gently with a small ‘click’.

Then, a few steps down the hallway, Leo came to an abrupt stop. He fingered at the wall as if in search for something. “We’ll take the secret tunnels into the city. But stay close and watch your step carefully! These passageways are riddled with traps of the gruesome kind. You wouldn’t wanna get caught in one! And once we have travelled through the pathways you mustn’t lose a word about them. Oh! Of course-”

I can see Lord Leo now, as he looked at me once more with a high arch over each clear eye. I can see him reach into his inner pocket with his quiet, cynical smile, before he would give me my knife back again which he had confiscated back in his room.

He turned around and entered the tunnel. I had to bend down to avoid hitting my head and the spread fingers of my right hand encountered nothing on the damp wall; those of my left trailed through a dust that must have aggregated there for half a century. Every now and then Lord Leo would stop and make some kind of wrench to avoid a trap. I simply copied his movements with great care.

As I trailed behind him my eyes fixated on his narrow shoulders. I thought about how the Lord surely had a formidable armor. Nothing could pierce it easily. As I stared at his neck I noticed that just where his armor ended and the soft velvet fabric of his collar began was a point so soft, so vulnerable, so exposed that it would not need much force. It wouldn’t even need much skill. A small movement and he’d be done with.

I tightened my grip around the knife. Isn’t life sometimes funny? Here I followed a man who had had any chance of killing me, but had shown mercy, not for mercy itself, but out of some arbitrary sort of interest in my person and I could think of nothing better then of how to end him. I tugged it away and kept at his heels.

After a short while we arrived at one of Nohrs main underground streets. Returning to familiar parts of this city relaxed me instantly. The street was empty and the buildings casted long shadows due to the subdued light of the dim street lamps. I heard the gentle ripple of the artificial channels that drained the rainwater. I took it for what it was. The calm before the storm.

“So milord, why is it that we are here?” Asked I.

“Oh, of course!” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “We must retrieve an item.”

“An Item? What is it we must retrieve?”

“But Niles, have you paid no mind as to why your presence is so very important to me? Have you by any chance forgotten what brought you to Castle Krakenburg in the first place? Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out by now!”

“The thing we stole!” I gasped as realization hit me. “You want it back!”

“Of course, my friend. What else?” He practically sneered at my astonishment.

I couldn’t conceal the disdain in my voice as I spoke. “Well.” I said. “I swore my life and my deeds belonged to you. Never my tongue!”

“Certainly not. You are not afraid of death - not really - then why would you be afraid to speak your mind? No, you mustn’t hold your tongue with me,” assured Lord Leo, dismissive of my concerns as ever. “And it’s something that speaks in your favour, too. You see, a soldier just follows orders, but you have a mind all your own. A man who can do both, follow orders and think for himself. A man like that is a real asset. Are you such a man?”

I stared at him and answered. “I am. Which is why I must tell you to go fuck yourself. I’m anything you wish me to be, but no snitch.”

“A snitch? This is not about ratting someone out! It’s not about your former comrades at all. This is about my property. I don’t care what happens to them. And I’m genuinely puzzled,” He truly was. “These men left you for dead and even worse: They have betrayed you! How can it be that you still swear your loyalty to them? Your only wish should be to obliterate them, as any sane man would.”

“I have no morals, milord. But I do have principles.”

“So there is some kind of honor among thieves after all? Fascinating. I wouldn’t have guessed by the mere fact that they left you to die miserably at my hands. Well then, I wouldn’t make a man go against his principles, that much is true, but I don’t think I comprehend yours. Tell me what kind of logic yours is and we might find a solution to this.”

“Oh, I’m afraid we won’t find a solution to this. You want me to give up their location and I won’t.”

“You won’t,” He repeated flabbergasted. “But why? Why must you protect those who did you wrong? By all my willingness to respect other mindsets - I can not wrap my head around this logic of yours. Oh wait! Is it because you fear them? It would be disappointing but unsurprising. At least you’d have a good reason for that. Now be truthful!”

“I am speaking the truth, milord. There is no fear.But if you keep insisting I shall repeat: I will not tell you where to find their hideout.”

“I didn’t take you for a fool. But why, oh why, must people proof me wrong again and again? What now then?! How do you think I shall have it back when you are so unwilling to cooperate?”

“It’s simple,” I said. “I shall go and get it.”

“And I shall stay put? No way!” He was outraged at my suggestion.

“This is a quarrel between thieves, let it be handled by one.”

“So that’s it, huh?” Asked Lord Leo and smiled frostily. “You want your revenge to be yours alone. You think it’s no place for a Lord, eh? Alright, if that’s it I can at least see where you’re coming from. But what guarantee do I have that you will return?”

Wasn’t the Lord a smart fellow? Now was my turn to sneer at him. “You can curse me if you want and lift it once I’ve returned.” That suggestion must have shocked him a great deal for he winced at it.

“What kind of suggestion is this!?” said he and recoiled from me. “I’m starting to believe you are some kind of masochist.”

“Milord, what will it be?”

“Alright.” said he and regained his composure. “If you deem this acceptable. But know that I hate to do this and would never, not ever, have even thought of this on my own accord. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

He opened his divine tome and uttered words of an old language. The spell was at first just a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist. The space in front of him was being warped and twisted and the curse slowly glided through the air towards me. It wasn’t until he closed Brynhildr and looked at me that it had settled on my skin. It felt damp and cold, but that was all.

Lord Leo’s visible discomfort brought me great joy.

“Thank you, Milord.” I said.

“Do not thank me for something so nefarious!” He said indignant at my misplaced gratitude. “Putting a spell on a living man. It’s a disgusting practice used on slaves and puppets. You are nothing of the sort. Understood?! Damn, I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” And he added with a quieter, softer voice. “You mustn’t face these man alone. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, but I’ll do it all the same and I shall succeed.”

Leo sighed in exasperation. “Good luck then, Niles.”

“I won’t need it,” I replied.

“Where does the sudden change of heart come from?” Said he and it was obvious that I irritated him a great deal. “You didn’t seem that self-confident back in my room. Everybody needs a good portion of luck!”

“I don’t. Not anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve got a place to return to now. So I will return. It is as simple as that.”

“Nothing's ever simple,” He argued.

I turned my back on him. “Shut up and stay put, milord.”

“What a foul mouth you have!” He retorted not without an amused chuckle.

“You mustn’t pay me compliments,” I said over my shoulder and left.

Chapter Text

You see, here is the thing about us Nohrians. In Nohr, everyone’s a crook. Everyone. No exceptions. The high folks just as much as the lowly peasants and that was especially true during those times. Those damned desperate times in which everyone just struggled to get by. The people kept looking for the crumbs beneath the table and the wealth in another man’s hands. That, I swear, was the very nature of those times.

And so it came that you’d often find that the highwayman in the dark was a city tradesman in the light and that the barmaid for the night was a noblewoman by the day.

It was because of this, because of this dual nature of us Nohrians, that I wasn’t at all surprised to find out that the prince knew of these tunnels. Up until now it was commonly assumed that the nobles of Castle Krakenburg, nor their secret agents or their soldiers, knew of the true heart of Windmire. A wrong assumption as it turned out. Perhaps all those high folks mingled with the commoners more freely than could have been imagined.

But did that really change anything? Not for me, anyways.

Those were my thoughts as I made my way through the underground pathways. I had told the Lord that my former allies were assembled in a hideout. That wasn’t technically true. Of course, where they resided was hidden well enough by a close-meshed net of narrow alleys in which you could go easily astray. But the building wasn’t more than a small cellar of a house that stood empty above ground. And tonight it was filled with life as was often the case after a successful pilferage. I noticed this with great disenchantment and sovereign contempt, since my lost life should have at least cast their celebration in a more sorrowful atmosphere.

Well, the cellar had no windows through which I could have assessed the situation inside. Only their laughter and a faint glow that escaped through the door crack betrayed their presence. So I took heart, pushed the door handle down and stepped boldly inside.

There the three of them sat around a table, each with a beer in hand. You know, whenever we were playing highwaymen we’d team up with a bigger group than us, led by a guy named Shura. But for small heists or break-ins more than four people are a hindrance more than anything. More people only means more noise, less money for each and more people to mess it up.

Anyways, two of the three were facing me, one with the back to the door through which I had entered.

I think, that in order for you to grasp this situation in its entirety I need to describe this band of thieves to you.

The boy on the right we simply called ‘Bunny’. He had a small head and big jug ears as well as two prominent teeth that stood out. I swear to you, that boy was the biggest scaredy cat you’d ever find in our branch of business. But he also had his talents. If you needed information, if you wanted to know about a rumor, he knew. You can imagine that this skill of his was not without merit.

The lanky, flat-chested woman next to him was named Greta. If she’d ever been put behind bars, she wouldn’t have remained there for long ‘cause she would’ve slipped right through them. And by jove, if you think I have a dirty mouth, then you would have thought her speech horrendous. She was quite the athlete and really knew how to slice a man with her knives.

And then there was Louis. The snake’s head. Our great leader. My good old friend-turned-foe.

To begin with, he was the most astounding brute to look at, well over six feet, with a chest like a barrel, and a great hook-nose, and the reddest hair and whiskers you ever saw. Always wore that damned filthy wolfskin-fur-cape. Disgusting thing, really, but as much a good protection as any armor. Drank like a fire-engine, but only got drunk enough to make us a speech before each heist that I wouldn't have missed for ten gold. So if anyone had asked me about this guy before any of this happened, I’d had sworn black and blue that he is an overall swell guy, a good sport, so to speak. A man whom you can easily entrust with your life.

Well, that was before. The fiend had ensured that all my words about him would forever turn sour.

As I entered Louis kept talking and laughing and hiccuping while the other two became awfully silent with their eyes fixated on me in disbelievement. Bunny especially sported a sickly white, so that even that fat pig came to a realization that something was off.

“What’s the matter, Bunny?”, Louis asked. “You look like you’ve seen a faceless!”

“I might as well have,” answered Bunny and gave a short nod in my direction.

Louis eyes moved to Bunny's face; a second later they had followed Bunny's eyes across the room to me, and he was on his legs. I took this opportunity to unperturbedly sit down in the chair from which he had leapt.

“Niles~ buddy~,” Bunny chirped. “You must have the devil’s own luck!”

“How the fuck did you motherfucker get out of there?” Greta asked. “Don’t fucking tell me -- did you kill that Lordling?”

I said nothing. Only sat there and allowed the silence to settle on their conscience. Louis mustered me with open contempt.

“You!” he growled “Why did you come?”

I reciprocated his stare unflinchingly. “To listen and to talk business. First and foremost I think I deserve an explanation.”

“An explanation,” he guffawed. “Lord! You have guts, boy! Always had! Stumblin’ in here after that trick we pulled on you. All for an explanation. Bunny, go get the man a drink! He earned one for sure.”

Louis sat down in another chair and Bunny did as he was told all too eagerly.

“Boy,” Louis began. “Listen. I never had anything against you; not even now or back in that damned Castle, mind you. But you see, we were pretty hard up in there. We had to make a sacrifice at some point.”

“You left me to die.”, I said.

“And I have saved your life many times before that and don’t you forget it! You think it was an easy choice? Believe me, it was not!”

“You left me to die.”, I repeated.

“Yes! We left you!” Louis agreed. “Would you have rather we left Greta, or Bunny, or me? Gretchen here has the most wonderful parents you’d ever meet. Bunny has, fitting to his name, awfully many siblings who’d all miss him dearly. And I have a beautiful wife and daughter that I need to support. No, it had to be you and you wanna know why?
Because it’s you who won’t be missed.
It’s you who has no family to return to.
It’s you who doesn’t even value his own life.
How else do you measure the worth of someone's life but by the tears that are shed when it’s ended? No boy. All of us have places to return to, you only have this crooked life and that’s no life at all. You wanted an explanation? There you have it! I don’t think it makes you happier. I don’t think it sets anything right between us. But it’s the truth and you’ll have to live with it, for even against all odds you just wouldn't die.”

Hah! The audacity of it! To spit these words right into my face while he sat not one-arm-length away from me.

I fixated him and said: “You think of people as though they are limbs, only worthy because they are an extension of someone else. I swear, the moment you betrayed me I thought of myself as worthless, too. But I soon came back to my senses. You think I wouldn’t be missed. I say you are right and that I couldn’t care less.”

“So you say, but you are obviously upset at my words. Why did you come here, boy? What do you have to gain from this?”

“Oh, I have to gain a lot from this. First, I’m going to call you big, fat, traitorous slob a big, fat, traitorous slob. Then I’m going to kill you.”

That’s all the provocation Louis needed. He was up and upon me. Took me by the collar and shoved me back forcefully so that I stumbled over my own chair and barely kept to my feet.

Louis stood up and gathered himself up to his full height. It looked almost comical seeing this big ruffian stand tall in such a small cellar.

“If you say your lives are so much more worthy, then perhaps I should take them like any good thief takes something of worth,” I teased, put all my weight at the back of my heels, took a big swipe at him and knocked him in the side. He took it in stride. I was a bit shocked at that and left my defense wide open.

I noticed my mistake too late. His retaliation came fast. The first punch was directed at my chin. I noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when his second punch made me sway.

It was a heck of a shot. My head spinned, I wavered and was so dizzy I couldn’t really register the pain.

I kept to my feet—I couldn’t fall—if I fell I knew I’d be done with—I swayed… and lost consciousness for a split second.

I came to me on the floor and then something curious happened. Louis could have been upon me just like that, could have killed me in my confusion.

I rolled over into a crawling position and tried to stand up, but he gave me a kick to the side sending me down again.

“Boy,” he said. “If you leave now I’ll pretend you really died this night.”

He could have sat on me and splashed my brains all over the cold stone floor. It was his arrogance; his certainty that he was the superior fighter that made him pass the one chance I was going to give him.

A veteran of bar fights, I knew how to deal with the dizziness and how to push myself past it; I was back on my feet before he could give me another kick.

I laughed at him. “You really only do things half-assed, don’t you?”

The brute stood straight, towered above me, eyes bulging with rage—that pig-faced pugilist—right in his shifty little eyes. The sight of me on my feet after his patented punching-ritus was not something he wanted to see.

I had him where I wanted him.

“You…little…” Louis took a lurching step forward with each word. On the third, he swung: “Shit!”

His blow came too sluggish. I knew the second he launched it. I smiled and ducked under it. Before Louis could even register the dodge, I had already put my whole weight into the next blow; turned my whole body with this one and used my elbow in a turning motion to make it extra painful, this one to his guts, sent fresh ripples of pain through his torso.
He doubled over, I grabbed his hair and brought my knee up to his head, heard a thick cracking sound as I broke his nose; and I let go.

He scooted back at the weight of it. But it took him only a second before he was at it again, going for another shot, covering the distance. Louis threw three more punches that did land but had little effect.

His punches were badly executed, he was confused and punch drunk; couldn’t really hold himself up anymore. He threw a haymaker that I ducked but didn’t parry, then another that I swung under again—and responded in turn with an uppercut.

Click. The sound of his upper and lower rows of teeth making unplanned contact. This was it. He toppled over, turned in-flight and was on the floor face first.

I was on him as fast as I could. Twisted his arm behind his body and planted my foot firmly on his neck.

“Asshole,” he said, his throat sore from the effort of speaking that single word.

“Well,” I said. “Now that I got my explanation we can talk business, can’t we? The Item for which we broke into the palace. It’s needed. Where did you put it?”

“Hah, you’re too late for that, boy!” he answered. “Already brought it to our orderer. It’s gone by now. Can only give you the gold we got for it.”

I stared at him in disbelievement. It had only been a few hours, it was uncustomary to meet up with a contractor so soon after the deed was done. What would the Lord say to that? I had told him I was going to come back with the Item.

“Who is our contractor?”, I asked.

“How would I know? He paid well was all I needed to know. So boy, you gonna kill me now or what?”

“You left me to be judged by that Lord. I hate to tell you, but my usefulness has not expired yet. With you however, the only verdict is vengeance.”

I twisted his arm some more, he screamed and groaned, there was a familiar cracking noise as his arm broke.

I took out my knife with the illest intend you can imagine, that’s when I registered a movement from Greta in my peripheral vision. I ripped Louis wolfskin-fur-cape from his neck with a strong motion and shielded my body. Gretas throwing knives glanced off that filthy thing and I quickly bridged the gap between us and tackled her. My weight and speed combined, against her lanky figure, sent her flying. She hit the wall with a ‘thud’; but lunged at me—knife in hand—just a second later. I used the cape again, wrapped it around her protruding arm and pulled her towards me. My blade buried itself into her stomach up to the hilt. Her knife scattered to the floor. She wheezed and her shaking fingers tightened around my arm for support before her legs finally gave in and she went slack.

All of it happened so fast, it was in such a stark contrast to the heavy fistfight just before, that I had difficulty grasping the realness of the situation.

I stood there panting and for a moment it felt like I was losing control of the situation, even though I had clearly won.

What was I supposed to do now?
The Item. It was gone.

I scanned the room frantically with my eyes. There lay Louis, with an unhealthy shortness to his breath, down at my feet was Gretas limp body and then it struck me. Someone was clearly missing from the scene. That damned boy Bunny had taken the chance to make a run for it, the door was still agape.

I didn’t waste a thought on Louis and simply took chase. Just outside I could still see the end of Bunny’s jacket as he took a turn into the close-meshed net of tunnels. I followed him down the rabbit hole. He was doing his nickname credit. Sidestepped like crazy. Made sure to never give me a clear line of sight so that I wouldn’t be able to use my bow in any case. And he was way too fast. Whenever I gained a few meters on him, he started sprinting like his life depended on it.

Which—to be fair—it did.

My lungs started to burn. The distance between us grew, Bunny took another unexpected turn into an alley and suddenly there was a loud noise and light was flashing from the alley.

I turned around the corner and looked inside. There Bunny was, entwined and effectively trapped by what seemed to be roots reaching down from the ceiling of the tunnel. By jove, it was the most curious thing to look at. And then I saw who was the cause of all this

“No, no, no, no— Milord, don’t kill him just yet!”

“If I’d meant to kill, he’d be dead. Of course that doesn’t mean I can’t make it so. But why keep him alive?”, Lord Leo asked unperturbed.

“You see.” I replied and flicked against one of the entwined boys protruding ears. “Bunny’s ears here aren't just for show. If you need to know about something; he can tell you.”

“So you didn’t have the devil's own luck after all,”
Bunny snarled at me and tried to bite my finger. “You rather stroke a deal with the devil himself! Niles, you know what? Go to hell! You should have just died.”

“Now now.” I said and wiggled my finger in front of him. “It’s not very smart to offend those who decide on whether you live or die, now is it?” Then I turned to the Lord and asked. “Did you follow me here, milord?”

He smirked at me and said. “Don’t look at me like I have broken an oath to you. Your revenge was yours. That fight was yours. If you’d died in there, you would have died; and that would have been the end of it. No, this was simply a precaution on my part. I couldn’t allow for them to slip away. This is too important an issue to allow a chance at failure.”

“But then how did you find me? If you had followed me I’d surely have noticed. Oh—,” I said. “That spell.”

“A tracking spell, yes. Well, where is it?”

“The Item… there might be a minor inconvenience.”, I began with a placating tone.

He sighed. “Would you just elaborate? We only have this one night.”

“It’s sold already.”, chirped Bunny in my stead.

The Lord turned his attention to Bunny. “The little bird starts singing before he has even been spoken to. I gather that you’d like to cooperate?”

Bunny smiled his sweetest smile at the Lord. “If Niles can strike a deal with you I can do the same, can I not?”

“You are in no position to bargain, neither was he.” Leo retorted. “Tell me what you know and I’ll judge you accordingly.”

I added. “We need to find the contractor who sent us to the Lord’s quarters in the first place.Bunny, tell us where we can find him.”

Bunny did not hold back and spilled what he knew. “Well, we met him in the northern district of the outer ring above ground.”

“Above ground?” I asked. “It’s not safe above ground. Was he a rich man? A foreigner?”

“No Niles. He wasn’t one of our sort,” Bunny glanced with an ironic smile at the Lord's tome. “He was a rogue mage.”

“He’s lying,” the Lord stated. “There are no rogue mages in Windmire.”

“I’m not lying!” Bunny insisted. “I know what I saw! He wasn’t wearing any insignia that would have identified him as a royal mage.”

Leo’s voice took a dark tone. “You are wasting my time and your last breath.”

“No, please!” Bunny pleaded now. “You must believe me! I’m telling the truth!”

“These ears are deaf to pleas. I’m bored with you,” said the Lord.

There was a flick of his wrist and Bunny was incinerated.

I stared at the Lord. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly had no misgivings about his deed, but I couldn’t really grasp why he had shown mercy to me but not to that boy.

I see him now with those dark, dim eyes.

His eyes spoke of no qualms. No joy. No sadness. No hate. No disgust. They spoke of nothing, really. All I could see was cold indifference.

“I did it so that you wouldn’t have to.”, he declared at my questioning look. “That boy was an opportunist of the first water. People like him are the very poison of this country. He would have betrayed you again if given the chance. It was his nature.”

I nodded in validation. “Then I must say ‘good riddance’. But… what are we going to do now?”

He looked at me. “We’ll go to the northern district of the outer ring above ground.”

“But you just concluded that he was telling an obvious untruth.”, I objected.

He answered calmly. “He must have lied, his claim had no substance, but we have no other clue. It’s probably too late now anyway. It might be gone for good. It’s just that I… I couldn’t forgive myself if we didn’t at least have a look.”

I led the Lord to the cellar in which I had fought so fiercely. Inside we saw Greta's dead body. Her empty, dead eyes staring at the ceiling and where Louis had been, we only saw a small puddle of blood that had dried already. The brute had managed to crawl away after all. It was a shame really. I’m not the sort of person who sees things only half through, though there was nothing to be done about it now.

We ascended the stairs to travel above ground. They were made of old wood that creaked loudly with every step.

“Lord, how do you measure the worth of someone's life?”, I asked in silent contemplation.

He did not hesitate in his answer. “The worth of one's life is naturally defined by its usefulness to those who hold power over you.”

“Do you truly believe that?”, I asked.

“I live by it.”, he answered.

“Which is not the same thing though.”

“You’re correct,” he said opening the trap-door at the end of the staircase and stepped through. “It’s not.”

Chapter Text

We exited the deserted building and were greeted by a street that proved just as empty.

A vast silence reigned here. Windmire above ground was desolate, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness—a laughter that was as mirthless as groans of increasing discomfort.

The street was a trench of raw white fog. It was dense enough to shut out everything from the light of the blurry street-lamps to a few yards of the road. The flagstones of the deserted street were lined with a thin coating of adhesive mud.

We met no other wayfarers, but the Lord inquired about my abilities nonetheless.
“The fog gives us good cover, but it would be wise to avoid any brigands who use this to their advantage as well. Are you confident that you can lead us to our destination without running into any trouble?”

“Avoiding the highwaymen won’t be the issue,” I answered, “Roaming Faceless are what has me worried.”

“Then don’t worry,” Leo said, “The Faceless that roam these streets are no threat. I can control them quite easily.”

“So you are indeed one of those mages, huh?” I inquired and my tone changed to one of slight malice.

“Well yes, though I don’t understand what you try to convey by taking that tone with me.”

“Nothin’, really.”, I said cooly, “ I find the extraordinary cruelty of these abominations absolutely fascinating. But the fact that you and your mage-friends let those beasts loose on the regular folks of Windmire—who clearly don’t stand a chance against them—turned this city effectively into this frigid, charmless place. Once upon a time this part of town used to have the best brothels in all of Windmire. It’s a shame, I tell you. A shame!”

“In that case I must apologize to you. I see that you have suffered a great loss. I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” he replied in a sarcastic voice that turned factually as he continued, “Though, I think I see the true intent behind your comment. Indeed, many citizens have lost their lives to the Faceless. But using Faceless has saved many a soldier their life.”

“And many soldiers had to give their life while hunting down abnormal ones also.”, I objected.

“I know,” Lord Leo replied, “Their usefulness is questionable at times and even though I utilize them myself, I am not in favour of allowing every mage to use them as recklessly as they do now. But my opinion on this matters not. I do not hold enough power to change the means of warfare. All I can do is have faith in my father, the king; for his experience far outweighs my own. And you also have no right to question his decisions.”

“Your father… is it true what they say… that he is cruel? Even to his own children?”, I asked barely containing the curiosity in my tone.

“Rumors like that have little substance,” the Lord clarified and it was clear that he didn’t like where this conversation was going, “He is demanding, but he expects nothing from us he wouldn’t do himself.
He dictates that we improve on our abilities, since he has attained immense power.
He expects us to act with no regard to our scruples, since he is without.
He demands us to be tough on our enemies, since he is merciless.
His methods might seem harsh but they prepare us.”

“Prepare you for what?”, I asked.

He looked me right into the eye. “For war, of course.”

“Which war? Last time I checked we were at war with everyone. All those tribes are at war with us and each other all the time.”

“Those are rebellions,” he corrected, “But no. I’m talking about the only war that counts. The war against Hoshido.”

“I thought there is no war against Hoshido,” I said genuinely confused, “Is there not some kind of barrier?”

“The barrier will go down at some point and we will be ready.”

‘Unlikely’, I thought, ‘It has been in place for decades.’ So instead of going into details regarding the barrier I intended to sound out where the prince stood on his father's policies.

“Then you approve of your father’s methods, I suppose?”, I asked.

“You can suppose all you want,” he countered sharply, agitated by my probing questions. He took a deep, irritated breath and then continued in a gentler but firm tone, “He is my father. I trust, rely and believe in him absolutely and have confidence in his power, wisdom and goodness. I am not a heedless listener who forgets, but an active doer who obeys.”

“You choose a life of obedience?”

“Without obedience it is impossible to please and be satisfactory to him,” he said and I took note of his demeanor.

He was fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, and his tone was slightly raised.
His father was a sore subject. How curious.

“Listen carefully,” he stressed, “whatever thoughts you may harbour on his reign, I do not wish to hear them. Neither in this empty street nor in the castle nor anywhere else for that matter. Heed this warning, for thoughts against him are a dangerous thing to think and words against him are the words of a goner.”

“Well then,” I replied nonchalantly, “If mere words can lead to death, then I must wonder what the possession of such an Item might cause.”

“I must say you have a talent for reading between the lines,” he said with a sly, slow smile and an approving gleam in his eyes. Though, he still seemed strangely on edge, “Indeed, I had been ordered by him to destroy it, but chose not to.”

“And kept it in your quarters.”, I pointed out.

“A foolish thing to do,” he admitted readily, “I am no coward, but I normally only run calculated risks. The problem is that impossible coincidences happen because probability requires that coincidences rarely—but not never—occur. Your band of thieves receiving an order by a random person to break into my rooms and steal exactly that Item is such an impossible coincidence. So impossible, in fact; that I must wonder if it’s a coincidence at all.”

“Maybe it’s not.” I answered with a shrug, “I run risks solely because I have little to lose and much to gain. You on the other hand have a lot to lose and little to gain. I wonder why you’d run the risk at all.”

At this his eyes were brighter than I had known them for this entire night. They shone with the same perverted enthusiasm which I saw in others roused only by the contemplation of some new audacity.

“An artifact like that does not exist twice in this world,” he answered in a tone so solemn and glazed over, that one would think he lay in a lover's arms, “I couldn’t possibly destroy it.”

And this made no sense to me. To harbour such thoughts for a thing. All my life I had struggled to steal things and to sell things; but no matter how beautiful, how costly, how intricate in their design, they were just that to me. Things.

...

The steaming mist made its way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. The figure of a giant came slowly through the eddying mist, and approached the side of the street where we stood.

It was a Faceless that stood before us; blown and covered with mud; from the shackled fists, which scraped along the ground, to the masked head.

I stooped, and, casting up my eyes at the figure, took an arrow from the quiver and readied myself. The Lord remained in his place, steadfast.
He opened his tome and took measures to bring the Faceless under his spell.

“Oh,” he said.

“What do you mean by ‘Oh’ ?” I asked.

“I can’t take control.”, he answered

“But you said you could do it easily!” I murmured exasperated.

“Well yes,” he conceded, “But not with this one. Someone else already controls it.”

“So, a rogue mage after all?”

“Maybe. Let’s find out!” He said and attacked. A cry of startled admiration went from my lips.

Leo had covered the distance and gone in with a spell; and with the same swiftness as before he had slashed the beast with Brynhildr's vines and leaped clear.

The Faceless was bleeding from a rip in its thick neck. It gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed after Lord Leo.

The display on both sides, the quickness of the one and the steadiness of the other, had me excited, and I wished I could have stood by and made bets with a crowd. Again, and yet again, Leo sprang in, attacked, and got away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after him, without too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly.

The Lords whole demeanour, every action, was economised. Each time that a spell struck, it sank easily into the dead flesh, while the Faceless did not seem to defend itself.

Another disconcerting thing about the creature was that it made no outcry, such as one was accustomed to with other enemies. Beyond a growl or a grunt, the Faceless took its punishment silently. And never did it flag in its pursuit of him.

Leo leaped in with a flash of his tome that ripped down the side of the Faceless. Both sides of the things neck and head were ripped and slashed. It bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted.

The thing rattled its chains, growled hoarsely, and plunged at him. It lifted it’s shackled fist ready to drill him into the earth. As the Faceless’ fist descended I was at the Lord's side, fending of the attack.

“Glad you decided to join in!”, he acknowledged; not even breaking a sweat.

I smirked at him and took aim. “Happy to deliver!” I let go of the bowstring, the arrow glided through the fog like a fish through the sea and hit the beast right in the forehead. Big cracks appeared on the Faceless’ mask where my arrow had entered and destroyed whatever lay beneath that forehead. The Faceless fell backwards and disappeared into the nothingness from which it had been summoned.

There was a moment of triumph in which we exchanged a knowing glance. It did not last long.
In the same way in which the mist seemed to swallow up every distant object, it now did it’s best to heave up an array of Faceless. The whiteness parted and gave way to three more of those atrocities.

“More of them,” I mumbled, cursing under my breath, “And it is hard to judge how many more will follow these. We can’t possibly fight an army of Faceless.”

“Not just the two of us, that’s for sure. But if we had an army of our own…”, the Lord replied and trailed off.

His tome glowed in it's unsettling purple gleam.
There was a hint of magic in the air that even I was able to sense. A magic more dark and deep, an epitome of Nohr itself. This magic wasn’t only more dense, it was ripe, and it called out. What disturbed me most was the response. “RWAAAAAAGH!”, a deep guttural sound echoed through the street that made my hair stand on end. Well-decayed flesh mingled with the earth and pulled itself out of another world upon their masters calling.

The Lord had summoned his own Faceless horde to aid him and sent them charging into our enemies.

The sound of decayed flesh hitting flesh, the rattling of chains, the distinct ‘clunk’ of shackles hitting shackles, the nauseating calls from malformed throats. It was by far the most detestable and repulsive thing I have ever witnessed. Men killing men, that is the nature of things. This… was quite beyond the power of words to classify.

I stood there. Frozen. Somewhere between appalled and awestruck until the Lord snapped me out of it with an order.

“I want you on that rooftop!” Leo pointed towards said building, “I can’t assess the situation in this dense fog. I need you to scout out the environment, think clearly and make decisions accordingly.”

I looked at the sheer height of the building. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m no facade climber.”

“You don’t have to be.” he said and withdrew one of his Faceless from the frontline. “I’ll throw you up there with the strength of one of my Faceless.”

I stared at Leo with disgust evident on my face. Though, the Lords Faceless truly bend its knees and got in a squatting position, arms outstretched and hands folded as if it were to give me a leg-up.

I swallowed and pushed the bile shooting in my mouth down. ‘There is nothing to fear’, I told myself. ‘Abominations they may be. But abominations infused with the commands of my Lord—mere slaves to his desire—and thus, allies of mine.’ And that was all it took to regain my courage.

I asked straightforwardly, “If I spot the mage and have a clear line of fire can I go in for a shot?”

“I doubt it’ll be that easy,” the Lord refocused on navigating the Faceless on the frontlines and spoke, “But if you gain the upper hand, I’d rather you arrange a little chit-chat with my mage-friend, if you so could.”

“Understood,” I said, but couldn’t hold back a lewd remark, “Though, I didn’t take you for a chatterbox. I find that quite appealing!”

“You meant to say ‘appalling’,” he corrected.

“No no, Milord,” I rebutted, “I said what I meant.”

His head whipped around at that and one of his Faceless suffered a nasty punch for it.

He opened his mouth in protest but I took off, sped towards the squatting Faceless and allowed the beast to catapult me in the air. I whirled through the mist and landed soft-footed on the roof.

I took in the sight. The street below disembogued in a huge square surrounded by tightly packed buildings with crumbling-looking gables, broken small-paned windows, and archaic chimneys that stood out half-disintegrated against the moonlit sky.

Lord Leo had been correct. While it was hard to make out the enormity of the enemy forces from down there in the dense fog, it became painfully clear from up here that we were on the losing side.

The opposing forces advanced towards the center of the Lord's unnatural army and there were at least a dozen and a half. What the Lord had summoned was only a small force in comparison. Whoever the mage was, he had spent his time wisely; summoning as many Faceless as he could and now he was pulling them together, sending them out to squash Leo.

This fight did not look good if the numbers were anything to go by and there was no sense in fighting a lost battle.

Leo held his own against the frontal attack.
His Faceless crashing against the enemies, attacking with their shackled fists; reacting to every command swiftly and steadily, every bit the slaves they were. Brynhildr's vines slashed and tormented their foes along with them, but it was ultimately not enough. Even now he started to fall back.

‘Though,’ I realized, ‘there is still a chance. If I could locate and neutralize the rogue mage who commands the opposing Faceless then we’d easily win.’

I scanned the area, but even though the huge Faceless were easy to make out from my elevated position, it was still difficult to discern anything smaller in size. But I wouldn’t need my eyesight to deduct were the mage hid.

‘If I were him,’ I thought, ‘I would want to operate from a place where I could easily overlook the square, but it should also give me good cover. In that case I’d choose to reside in a building on the opposite site.’ I scrutinized said building but could not spot a mage. Yet, I decided to check it out, choosing big gargoyles with batlike wings and long necks adorning the rooftop as my focus point.

‘I’m sorry Milord. But you’ll have to be the decoy this time,’ I called out internally; even though he had no way of hearing me. ‘Hold your own, that is all I ask of you.’

I got up and sprinted over the rooftops making my way around the square. Up and down I went like a fast horse at a race. Where the gaps between the buildings were the widest, there I was, bridging them at neck-breaking speed with reckless jumps.

Thunk, thunk, thunk; clomp; tik tok tik tok; fump. How I knew my way!

When suddenly, after a particular difficult jump I slipped, skidded down the slope considerably and loosened more than one roof tile in the process. I caught myself; barely.

Admittedly, for a moment I was scared stiff and hang there with the breath caught in my throat and my feet digging into the roof batten.

I realized that I had almost fallen down onto the cobbled plaster, counted my blessings and let my gaze wander to where Lord Leo was still holding his own.

To my surprise he had managed to push back against his enemies and was now forcing them right back onto the square. It was obvious that he did not dare push further into the square, out of fear he’d be caught in a pincer movement, surrounded by his enemies.

So he stayed where he was, using the buildings left and right to cover his flanks while taking on three faceless at a time.

The mages were at a stalemate. At least if it weren’t for me, the ace up Lord Leos sleeve.

I pushed myself up and with my legs still shaking, cautiously continued my run until the odd shapes of the gargoyles wings rose up between the eery rooftops.

Once there I looked for an easy entrance and as I inspected the roof it looked damnably worm-eaten and there were big holes in the roof already through which I entered.

I found myself encased in darkness. The full moon outside had lighted the rooftops far better than I had thought, but it didn’t take long for my night eye to adjust itself to the poorly lit area.

I was in a barren hallway with what was once marvelous dark-oak panelling. It smelled mouldy and any splendor this building once may had was long since gone.

Warily, I made my way through the corridor with careful steps and stole myself through a door to the left with strained bow. The room was empty. I strained my ears and listened for any sound.

And then I heard him. The mage uttered whispered incantations and it was not difficult to make out his location. I had been running. But now, I took careful steps and let my feet unreel slowly as to not make a single sound.

I approached the slightly agape door slowly and gave it a small nudge with my foot, praying that the old, rusty hinges wouldn’t squeak. They remained silent.

There the rogue mage stood, his back turned to me, looking out of the window and muttering spells like a madman. A brown cape was covering him and if not for his voice, I wouldn’t even have been able to tell if it was a man or a woman.

I took another step.

The floorboard creaked loudly.

The mage wheeled around and sent a spell crashing through the wood within an inch of my ear. Some splinters lodged in my hair. I myself let go of the arrow, it winged him, causing a nasty graze wound on his arm. There was a scream, I bridged the gap cat-quick, swatted his arm to the side, another of his blasts crashing into the old wood, took out my knife and flung him around using his wounded arm to steer him forcefully. A kick to the back of his knee and he was on his knees, my knife at his throat.

It was over.

The window from which the mage had controlled his Faceless army truly gave a vast overview of the square and I saw that Lord Leo had little problems taking care of the remaining Faceless, since the rogue mage had given up his control on them. Now, they were nothing but uncontrolled puppets, awkwardly flinging around their arms.

After he had made short work on them, he dissolved his own faceless and strode over to the building in which the mage and I waited.

During all this, the rogue mage had not said a word. The expectant silence between us was crushing.

Lord Leo entered the room. His head held high, his every movement that of a victor.

“Excellent work! Truly impressive.”, he commended me.

I revealed the mage by roughly pulling down his hood. The face of a handsome young man stared defiantly at Leo, his well-defined jaw clenching in anger, his short blonde hair sticking to his forehead.

“Do you know him?”, I asked.

“I don’t know that face,” Lord Leo mused, “Though I can already guess the person behind it.”

A flick of his wrist, a murmured spell and he had destroyed an illusion.

“Hello Zola,” Leo greeted, “Have you gone astray?”

I must say that the real Zola was preeminently unbeautiful.

He was a small man to begin with; he had thin lips and poor posture; rounded shoulders and a jutted out neck and chin; and upon his meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly meagre head. It seemed as though his slender neck proved unable to support so great a burden as his big hat presented.
To complete his description, his slanted eyes were yellow and muddy, as though nature had run short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes. It was the same with his hair, sparse and irregular of growth, muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting out of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches.

In short, Zola was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay elsewhere. He was not responsible. Nature simply had not been kind to him. If he hadn’t displeased the Lord in such a way, I would have said that he was a man to be tolerated in a broad human way, as one tolerates any creature evilly treated in the making.

“Milord Leo,” Zola greeted, “Eeheehee! It's been a long time!”

Leo scrunched up his face in annoyance, “Not nearly long enough! And don’t you ‘Milord’ me after you attempted to kill me, albeit you never posed a real threat. Your control on the Faceless is lousy at best. No wonder so many of them roam uncontrolled through Windmire. You are disgraceful!”

“You are always so fast to hand out compliments!” Zola said, “No more flattery, please! I'll blush!”

“Zola, tell me the scheme of your plan!”, Lord Leo demanded.

“Oh, such concern in your voice! But I act only for the glory of Nohr, of course! You are aware of that, no? After all you are a genius like myself or you wouldn’t have been able to see through my incomparable illusive magic! Eeheehee!”

“Ugh, don’t you dare to compare us! You are nothing but a contemptible fool!” Leo said in disgust, “How curious though, aren’t you normally all eager to reveal your plans? Gloating. Monologuing. It's what you do!”

”Tsk, Lord Leo. I am the man with a knife to my throat. It is I who is entirely at your mercy,” Zola cried, “In any case you should be the one to outline your evil plan! But if you are that eager to hear mine, I’d gladly change places! Hyo-ho.”

“Nice try, Zola. I’m more of a person that’ll kill you with hardly a word directed at you.”

“Please wait, Lord Leo! I can at least explain myself! It all started when the Hoshidans killed my stepmother's brother's favourite cat, from that day on, I swore to become a dark mage to go on a roaring rampage of revenge, I have—”

“—Spare me with your ridiculous lies.”

“But Milord—”

“—I said enough!”, Leo roared, “I don’t need to hear excuses for your twisted ways. This was the last time you crossed me! Any last words?”

Zola lowered his gaze, his big hat cast a shadow over his eyes that made his eyes almost invisible. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, “You really think it'd be that easy?” and then he screamed, “Don’t you know that I always have an escape plan! HA!”

There was a blinding flash of light accompanied by an intensely loud ‘bang’. Lord Leo screamed at the sudden agony of it. I was stunned, my vision made impossible. Out of balance, I found myself unable to fight back as Zola grabbed my wrist and spinned the knife away from his throat.

I heard a spell cast at Lord Leo, quickly followed by a blast hitting the wood panelling, I felt splinters rain down on us and realized that Leo had managed to deflect the spell. Zola ran for it. I regained my sense of sight but an afterimage still haunted my vision. That’s when I heard fast steps on the cobbled plaster down below on the square. I could not see clearly, but my hearing had not been disturbed to the same extend. I strained my ears. Leaned out of the open window. Drew my bow and aimed towards the faint sound of pounding feet on cold stone and let go of the string.

Even to this day, I swear to you that I would have hit Zola, had he not teleported himself away right then and there.

“It’s gone!”, Lord Leo cried out in anger, “That coward! We had him! I screwed this up, didn’t I? Never again will I allow a man to utter his last words!”

He slumped against the wall and ran his frantic fingers through his fair hair.

“Heh, I’d say we royally screwed up,” I joked and joined him, leaning rather casually against the oak-wood panelling, “That is… if I hadn’t taken the Item from him as soon as I caught him!”, I said, withdrawing a small, sealed box from my pocket and handed it to Lord Leo.

His eyes went wide in surprise, his shaking hands accepting the box. He let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, our eyes met and there was a genuine, true moment between us; candid and evanescent.

“Well,” I said, “That thing has got me curious now.”

“Mmh,” Leo mustered me, a guarded expression returning to his face, his fingers tightened around the box, “I guess you deserve to know what you risked your life for.”

“For you,” I said.

“What was that?”, he didn’t catch it.

“For you,” I repeated. “I never risked my life for that thing. I risked my life for you. So I don’t want to know what that thing is, I want to know what this thing is to you.”

“Well… of course…,” Leo mumbled, seemingly embarrassed at being so openly confronted with his own false assumption. He cleared his throat. Not meeting my eye he simply said, “I find your demand agreeable.”

Chapter Text

Leos face filled with lines. We were sitting in the room that had been bare when first I saw it.

His manner was unique in my memory of the man. His fine face softened and set hard by turns and as he spoke, it was not difficult to imagine the child—and the greybeard—behind the young man.

“I still remember those days back then. Gods, I was still awfully young. A mere child. I had been working in the library of Castle Krakenburg, busy translating the runes of my divine tome Brynhildr by whom I had just recently been chosen.

The library at that hour was one of the few places in which I could have a few moments of blissful privacy before my lessons in applied spell casting began.

I felt so tired and drained that day. And thus I did what I often did when I had a chance to be completely alone. I rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes, hoping for a few moments of sleep to refresh my mind.

I awoke because somebody was gently rubbing my shoulders. "You poor thing," said a woman. "Fell asleep in the middle of your work."

I sat up and tensed, as she kept kneading the muscles of my shoulders and back and neck. They really were tight, and what she was doing felt good. But I didn't want physical contact between us. Many people tried to assert superiority over me through physicality—often in the guise of camaraderie and friendliness—I had learned better by now and brushed her hands of my shoulders—politely but firmly—and turned around to see who thought it wise to show me how close they could sneak up on my back without me noticing.

It was the second queen consort of Nohr—queen Arete, whom I had been urged to stay away from.

I must admit she had the most exquisite face I ever saw. Absolutely perfect features; a skin that reminded you of white gold, so delicate was its teint; magnificent blue hair and such eyes and smile as would have made the fortune of a face without another point. No wonder Windmire did go mad about a woman like her.

She had a way of entirely satisfying your sense of beauty; and I honestly believe in that moment I understood how father could neglect his consorts and be true to queen Arete for that alone. Though, I had heard the stories; and it were queen Arete and her daughter who paid the highest price for father's neglect of his many suitors. Never had I seen the court more vile and wicked than in those times and entirely due to her presence.

“Queen Arete.” said I.

“I’ve heard you have been chosen by Brynhildr,” she said without further ado, “That piqued my interest. I too have found quite the enjoyment in casting a spell or two. You wouldn’t care to enlighten me on such a divine tome, would you?”

“It’s nothing,” I answered, short-clipped, like wary children tend to be, “Just more translation work. Barely worth mentioning.”

“You don’t fool me,” she said, “I know what your tome can do.”

“My tome can do nothing at the moment. I’m far from mastering it, Milady,” I answered, shy under her admiring gaze, “For now it has as much use as a cumbersome paperweight.”

She laughed heartily at that. “A divine paperweight? You’d really like me to believe that so that I leave you be, don’t you? You don’t fool me. I’m not as dumb as you think.”

“I don’t think you are dumb,” said I. And I didn’t. Anyone who stayed alive despite the court's best efforts is a force to be reckoned with, “I just think that you shouldn’t be here and I should not be speaking to you at all.”

“I know many object to your fathers and my marriage. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Object our marriage.”

Why would I care about that? "No, it's fine," said I, "I suppose you take love where you find it, besides, it’s not my place to have an opinion on things like that.”

“Then where do you see your place?”

“Right here, between all these tomes and books. Studying.”

“You are studious, I’ve heard as much,” her eyes glittered mischievously, “Allow me to put your mind to a test. I’d love to know if it is as sharp as I’ve been told. Do you know about the three tribes of Nohr?”

I looked at her as if she was chaffing me. “There are just two tribes of Nohr,” I corrected, “You certainly mean the ice tribe and the wolfskin, Milady. There is no ‘ third tribe’ .”

“How precocious of you!” she chided with amusement in her voice, “To assume I’d make such a mistake.”

“Forgive me, I did not mean to be snidely.” I apologized, “I thought that was supposed to be trick question.”

"At ease, child. I’m not that easily offended. But what if I told you that there is a third tribe within our borders, though it is hidden.”

“A hidden tribe? I never heard of it.”

“How could you if it’s hidden,” she said and smiled at me the way adults tend to smile at children, “But I will tell you and I want you to remember.”

“I’m not one to forget such things,” I promised.

“Good,” she said, “The third tribe of Nohr is the earth tribe”

“Ice, wind, fire and… earth …, almost too convenient to be true. Does father know about this?” I asked.

“Of course,” she winked at me, “Your father knows everything about Nohr and much about what lies beyond.”

I nodded and waited for her to dismiss me. Though she didn’t.

“That is not all I have to tell you,” she said.

“What else is there?” I asked.

“The earth tribe,” she explained, “like no other tribe stands for balance. All four tribes must exist so that everything remains in balance. Like Hoshido and Nohr, one a kingdom of light, the other a kingdom of darkness. Two sides of the same coin. Better to be kept in balance.”

“With all due respect,” I interjected in a tone that was anything but respectful, “A balance of power between Nohr and Hoshido is impossible to achieve because—even if it is attained—it will never be in Hoshido’s or Nohr's interest to maintain a situation where we are just as powerful as our foe. There will always be arms races and client wars in spheres of influence. It is natural for powerful countries to strive for more power. Skirmishes are the inevitable consequence. Our countries’… rivalry... has forever been a part of our planning. And why should we change now, when it's worked so well?”

“Because it only takes one person to topple the scales.”

“Then I have confidence that that person will be Nohrian,” I proclaimed basically beaming with a national pride that would never again shine as bright as it did in my childhood.

She just gave me a sad smile and spoke in a depressing tone, so very depressing in her, with clouded eyes that indicated that she knew something more,

“Yes, I am sure that person will be just that,”

I still, for the love of the gods, can’t figure out what it was that weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

Though, she continued in a happy voice, as if nothing ailed her, “Come now, I’d like to show you something.”

I had always been an obedient child; I accepted responsibility and accepted also the idea that I would not always get to decide which responsibilities were mine, or when they needed to be carried out. But also, in a way, it has always been more than that, more than a happy child springing up at his parents' request. It had always strong overtones of the kind of compliance one gives in order to avoid conflict.

So when she spoke to me I sat there—tome in hand—uncertain. Stuck between the order of my father, to stay away from her and her daughter, and her demand to follow, all the while unsure whether she had given an order or request.

In the end I obliged.

I suppose this tells something about my personality. That I’m not particularly good at taking advice or rejecting requests. Or that I was born with an overload of curiosity. Or maybe it was about naïveté or boredom or fate. Whatever the reason, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

We left the library, and just a few paces down the hall, I noticed shadows dancing over the walls.

“We are being followed,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” she answered, “But pay him no mind. He has shuffled around these hallways all day and has yet to make his move.”

“How can you remain this calm?” I exclaimed, “This is unnerving.”

“Oh child, this happens to me all the time. This is the kind of suffering you learn from.

Because suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. A heart forged in darkness is the most powerful. It allows you to adapt, endure and overcome what lies ahead. And if all fails, you may still perish in dignity. I have some word of advice for you: Always believe in the future and persist in the present. And remember, there are things greater than your own desires and feelings. Understood?”

I nodded, though my eyes and mind distractedly fluttered to the movements of the shady figure trailing us, the man was too far away for me to swear to his face, but he wore a fur-lined coat of un-Nohrish length, and the torches along the hallway played steadily on his boots; they were very worn, and they made no noise when he took a turn. I strained my eyes, and all at once I remembered the thin-soled, low-heeled, rust colored boots of the insidious foreigner, with the soft eyes and the brown-paper face, whom I had openly called a palpable fraud.

His steps were the short and shuffling ones of a man advanced in years and in fatty degeneration, but all of a sudden they stopped. At the same moment, Queen Arete turned the corner and quickly ushered me into the castle chapel.

“The chapel of the dusk dragon? What could you possibly show me here?” I asked.

“Oh well, you’ll see. You’ll see at once,” she  said and quickly vanished behind the altar and busied herself with an ambry, in which sacred vessels and vestments are stored. She took something out, it was the box we so vigorously fought over and which I now hold in my hands.She opened it, took out a phial and held it towards me as if to show it off.

“Here,” she said while I drew closer, “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“No idea whatsoever, Milady.”

“Then come a little closer,” she opened the phial, “Hold out your hand. I just need a finger. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I’ll cut it off.”

She took my hand in hers and carefully poured a single drop of the liquid onto my finger. The liquid had a dark purple color, so dark in fact, that it was almost as black as the darkest Nohrian night and in that single drop alone something seemed to swivel and piorette around itself like the sun around the earth, like within that drop alone there was a hidden galaxy of unknown vastness.

“You see,” she began, “this is a potion named Kriemhild. It is a liquid concentrate imbued with Brynhildr's powers and the magic of its fifth wielder. You were chosen by Brynhildr. You were chosen to command earth, gravity and life. And this is the legacy of those who did the same before you. Brynhildr uses life to bring death. Kriemhild uses death to bring life. It doesn’t hurt you, because Bryhildr would never hurt you, but--”

That’s when the doors were broken down and the foreigner with the silent boots stood before us. A gleaming sword in hand, his evil intend evident on his face.

He took a step towards us and queen Arete stepped in front of me as if to shield me.

“Queen Arete, if you don't shift I shall have to shift you,” he said; voice cold, face white-hot, eyes dancing death. He was after me. Queen Arete was the most hated woman of Nohr, and he came for me. I couldn’t grasp it. Never did I suspect that I was his target.

And she did. As he threatened her; she yielded. She stepped behind me and settled both her hands on each of my shoulder. And I thought, ‘This is it.’ In that moment of dawning comprehension I realized that she would just give me a good shove and I’d be in his arms, in his clutches.

I had been a fool to trust her. I had been warned—no, ordered!—to stay away from her. And now I knew why.

I felt my hands twitch, then my legs tremble and before long my whole body was shaking like a leaf.

There are times in which proper pessimism should be applied. Clearly, it was a little too late for that, but it didn’t stop my mind from racing through all the possible ways in which he could harm me.

He would rip off my limbs, tear open my ribs, flay the skin from my flesh and the flesh from my bones and scrape my bones dry. All of that he would do. And it would hurt. A lot.

Well, there is nothing quite like the imagination of a child, don’t you agree?

And a child I was. Terrified. Meat for the beast.

Queen Arete squeezed my shoulders and something in my mind made click. I never needed much guidance when it came to commands. I understood them with the littlest nudge in the right direction because I could easily follow another person's thought process. I made a swift movement with my hand. The single drop from Kriemhild flew through the air. I used the little gravity magic I knew to guide it. With no sound, it made contact with the man's skin.

After that the scene was almost wholly distorted by my overflowing emotions of fear and disgust, and in the jumble of sights, sounds, and unidentified sense-impressions I saw the man was about to dissolve or in some way lose his solid form. I remember trying to avert my gaze, but queen Arete took my head in her hands and made me look. Her harsh voice commenting that I was not to forget this. That it was important for me to see this with my own eyes. One definite flash I shall always remember. An ocean of light, one blinding beam send up from the temple-like tilework of the chapel and the magical diagrams that appeared under the man's rust colored boots. Through this, I seemed for an instant to behold a patch of strange night sky filled with shining and as it receded, I noticed one shape in particular.

This shape being the distorted face of the insidious foreigner. He was transformed, his body mangled by untold might that in its essence proved not man-made, for the sheer power of it was not from this world.

In the end, nothing but a tree remained.

It was not a pine tree, nor a fir tree, nor a hackberry tree. More than anything it resembled an oak. It had a huge, twisted trunk and the large limbs began spreading outward scarcely from the ground. The leaves on the thing were too lush for the work of sane nature, while the trunk was bulged and knotted in the most abhorrent shapes. It was oddly repellent; so like to some grotesque man, or death-distorted body of a man, that it’s origins were indisputable. There was a dark familiarity and mocking similarity to Brynhildr's magic; something tangible, yet distant as the stars beyond the galaxy.

It was, altogether, a very disquieting sight. I had a mad impulse to flee; run insanely from that sinister tree —but I checked the absurd intuition and remained still, trying to collect my senses.

I had never, in all my life, seen a tree to compare with it—and I never have to this day, for which I am eternally thankful!”, He made a sudden pause, as though he had stumbled on the truth in jest. His face filled with lines, “The woods of the Forlorn, though. Now that I think about it, those trees do carry resemblance with Kriemhilds unnatural plant,” The terrible implication of that realization made me shudder in disgust. As if the woods of the Forlorn weren’t enough nightmare fuel on their own. Now, to think that those trees once weren’t trees at all, but instead human. I didn’t dare to think too closely about it.

Leo continued his horrendous tale, “I know for a fact that a lot of the things I do are atrocious. But what I had done to the man that day was a true crime against humanity. Committed at the age of seven. So I was naturally shocked because of what had transpired and everything afterwards I can only remember through a haze, as if I viewed it not through my own eyes but through a smeary looking glass with kaleidoscopic properties.

I remember how queen Arete tried to get rid of that tree, how she tried to set it on fire. But the plant, as absurd as it was, just wouldn’t blaze up in the same way a regular tree would. Though after a few tries and several spells later she succeeded and I watched it burn down, utterly detached from the world. At last she turned to me and crouched down to look me in the eyes. She squeezed my arm and cupped my head in one of her soft, delicate palms.

“Hey…,” she cooed, “Everything's okay now. No one will know about this.”

“But… How?… Why would you make me do such a thing?”, I asked with such a small and shaky voice, so very unfitting of a Nohrian prince.

Her grip tightened and she asserted forcefully, “You command Brynhildr! You are not a threat now but one day you’ll be, which is why they will try to end you while you are not. And the only way to stop them is by attaining the power necessary to defend yourself. No man nor woman—not even a prince—has any rights if they are unable to personally defend them! You have to learn fast. Faster now than ever, or else… or else you may die!” here she made a pause, “If I had not woken you, you would have had that sword between your shoulderblades. You called him a fraud and you were right. A lousy would-be assassin he is. Or rather… was . See, if not for me you would be dead. I won’t be there to interfere the next time this happens. Next time, you will have to do something like this on your own. You can not let your guard down! Be alert! Be wise!”

Her breathing had quickened, she stood up to her full height and towered way above me.

“And now,” she said, “I’ll have to look after my own daughter. She too has troubles with defending her rights. And you better hurry, dearie. You are late for your lesson.”

She left without another word and I stood there deep in thought.

I think that was the first time I understood what it meant to wield a divine weapon. That there was a price to pay for the prestige and that there was more to it than the responsible use of such power. As the fourth in line for the crown I had gone mostly unnoticed by the main players of the court. But with Brynhildr at my side, those days would pass. There lies a danger in being dangerous, a curse in casting curses, a parasitic paternalism in being considered a prodigy. And I wonder if I would have chosen the path I took if I hadn’t been that young and naive. If I had known the ramifications.”, he said it wistfully, but it was obvious that he took pride in his abilities, in his power, in the admiring glances that were thrown his way.

I broke the silence with a question, “Have you used the potion since?”

“No, I cannot at the moment recall any other occasion upon which its use would have been justified. It’s usage wasn’t even truly justified back then, though I have to admit that I never forgot about it, it’s like she burned it right into my retina with a hot iron.”

“It couldn’t have been easy, to commit such a thing at such an innocent, tender age.”, I said it without mockery, my thoughts wandering to my own hazy past of which I remember so little.

“Innocent?” he asked; he had hardened even as he spoke: his eyes were flint and steel, with an honest grief behind the glitter, “Not even as a child I could have called myself that. But, I didn’t tell you this little tale of mine to earn pity or to burden you with it. I have found out some more about Kriemhild since then. One of which is a hint given directly by the creator of this poisonous potion. See here, “ he showed me the box in which the potion was embedded. It was covered over and over in unknown hieroglyphics; half worn away, “This is written in the same tongue as my tome,” he explained,

“It says:

I was like you once, clinging to life and blind to the truth. When I uncovered the truth, I too shuddered and paled with fear. Deep in these catacombs, I was remade. Here, my brethren slumber for aeons, while the living grow like weeds.

That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die."

Leo paused while I stared, bewildered. Instead of deepening, his lines had vanished. He looked years younger, mischievous, merry and alert. He was striding to the window, all revelry and excitement.

Finally he spoke, “Now, Niles, I suppose you can guess how all this links up. There is no need of going deep into the primal lore behind this business, but I may as well tell you that according to the old legends, and my own experience, this Kriemhild potion may inflict infinite harm. We don’t know in the slightest how it’s full power might manifest, but there’s reason to think that strange mirages and hallucinations will be mixed up in the matter. I don’t like the nature of it. I’ve seen part of it. But this is my legacy—to see if I can glimpse the full capacity of its power. It is as close as one may get to the power of the gods and that is the danger of it. I see why father would wish for it to be destroyed, but how could I pass up such an opportunity? The things I could learn from it! Unfortunately, you and your comrades have already proven that it is not safe with me. But fret not, I have already been in close contact with someone who has as much interest in keeping Kriemhild safe and hidden as I. Come now, I’ve talked way too long. Do you hear that? The great bell of the clock tower is striking six. There is little time to meet up with my contact.”

Chapter Text

Lord Leo led me through foggy streets and dark alleys. The sun had risen already, but as was always the case with Nohr you could barely tell the difference. Mud clung to our boots and I followed in silence. Slowly, we came to the better parts of the city. At a hostelry, he held out his arm to stop me, “We are at our goal. Here,” he gave me the box and an envelope which he must have prepared way beforehand, “Go inside, the girl sits in the far back on the right side. She awaits you. Give her the envelope and Kriemhild. She will leave with a caravan into central Nohr in a few hours. There she will hand it to the man who has sworn to protect Kriemhild in my stead.”

“Why not go yourself?”

“We’ve been in correspondence, but she has never seen me. She is the daughter of a man who is held in high regards, but their loyalties have been questioned by the Nohrian court lately. I, on the other hand, never had any doubts about where their loyalties lie. They are good people. Still, it’s best not to be seen together. Any association might bring further harm. If I had been here alone, I would have to use illusion magic. But I’m no good at it. It’s easier if you deliver it. Now, go!”

The establishment was nothing more than a wayside inn. The odor of stale ale almost knocked me down as I entered. A florid, overdressed man sat in one corner of the parlor, and the aforementioned woman sat to the far right as expected.

I entered and made my way to the woman. I was confronted by a dark and handsome lady whose profile, as I saw it first in the dimmed light of the establishment, cut like a cameo in my memory. It had the undeviating line of brow and nose, the short upper lip, the perfect chin, that are united in marble oftener than in the flesh; and like marble she sat, or rather like some beautiful pale bronze; for that was her coloring, her hair, of the same brown color as her skin and her eyes, the most radiant green. As I approached, she did neither falter nor tremble; but her bosom rose and fell, and that was all. Her cloth spoke not of great wealth, but not of poverty either.

“Here,” I said and handed her the Items in an unobtrusive manner. It didn’t take a second and I was willing to leave her again, she must have noticed the movement and grabbed my arm to hold me in place.

“No, wait,” she urged, “You can’t leave directly. It’ll look suspicious. Come, sit down. Act like we know each other.”

“Easy killer,” I gave her a lopsided smirk, “I know I’m attractive and all, but that’s no reason to hunt me down like that.”

“Hah, you’re funny,” she retorted, “Not right now, but I’m sure sometimes you’re funny.”

“It’s okay,” I said and sat down, “admitting is the first step.”

“So, you’re his servant or something.”

“Yeah, ‘something’ kinda fits the bill.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thank you, you’re half decent, too.”

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“A lot happened. This thing is serious business.”

“Huh, this whole thing is making me nervous,” she fidgeted with her ring, “I’d rather have the ability to make other people really nervous instead.”

“Holding a knife to their throat usually works for me.”

“Wow,” she exclaimed and stiffled a laugh, “I’m gonna remember that. So, huh, did he tell you who I am?”

“No,” I answered truthfully, “Should he have done that?”

“No,” she said quickly, “But that means he doesn’t trust you.”

“Maybe he doesn’t. But he apparently trusts you if he’s willing to give you that thing. Why is that? It can’t be your charming personality.”

“I guess you’ll have to ask your master about that.”

“He’s not my master.”

“If you’re his errand boy,” she said condescendingly, “he might as well be.”

“And what are you then, princess?” I asked in the same tone, “You seem to be nothing more than a prestigious, little runaround yourself.”

“Hah,” she laughed at me, “I knew you were genuinely funny, you didn’t have to prove it, though. It doesn’t matter what you say,” her smile turned genuine, “I know you must be kind at bottom.”

"Why at bottom?" said I.

"Oh, I said at bottom because you look sarcastic, and at first sight you're so cold. But often that's only the mask of those who have suffered the most," explained the woman slowly.

"You are making assumptions," I rebuked scornfully.

“Why? Am I wrong?” she kept smiling.

“No, what you said is true. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s still assumptive. It’s not like you know . You, on the other hand, seem to be quite alone in this world.”

"Me? Why?" she asked surprised.

“You're just like a little child one longs to protect,” I said and flashed my teeth.

“Heh, now you’re just screwing with me,” she’d seen through me, “May the gods bless you!”

“Pfft, will I go to heaven now?”

“No, I think you're likely to go to hell because, despite all your cunning, you seem quite amoral.I think we’ve talked enough. Give your master my regards.”

“Well, that’s a relieve. Though, I’d love to screw with you some more in the future.”

“Hah, no doubt you’d enjoy that.”

“Glad I could help to loosen you up a bit. Can't wait to give ‘my master’ all the soppy details about our first time,” with that I left.

Lord Leo stood hidden in the shadows of a building outside and awaited me impatiently.

“Everything went as expected,” I said before he could even ask, “Pretty little thing, the girl.”

“I’ve been told as much.” Leo admitted reluctantly, “Doesn’t matter either way. As long as she does her part I don’t care.”

We left and made our way back to the entrance of the underground tunnels that led to the castle. When we finally arrived, Leo turned to me. He shook my hand and it tightened in affectionate farewell.

“This is the end of our little adventure,” he said, “Now, leave.”

I gasped and the white of my eyes showed all round the iris, a rarer thing than you may think, “You said I could put myself in your hands. That I would have to plunge no more. That you wouldn’t send me away,” I reminded him.

“Well yes, that was before,” he admitted reservedly, “I mentioned that if an overly loyal royalist found out about my plans, our very lives would be in danger. Zola is one of them. Now, we not only have Zola on our backs, but anyone he confides in as well. He is not one to keep quiet about such things. I dug myself into a hole and now I’ll need to see if I can climb out. I’ve lifted the tracking spell. You are free to go. I’ll even compensate you for your services tonight. It would be enough funds for you to start over. Heck, you could become a spice merchant if you so wanted.”

I snorted, “Only a rich person like you would suggest to someone like me to become a spice merchant.”

“Well, you could open up a brothel for all I care. It would be your money to do with as you please.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you so nice to me?”

“I‘m not nice, I’m desperate. I needed protection and knew how to keep you around. It didn't work out. You don't owe me anything.”

“Still, you could choose to treat me very differently right now. I’m still the same person that I was when I broke into your quarters. A criminal. A crook.”

“And I’m a traitor to the crown. There is a good chance that where I’m going I won’t need the money. Just… be happy that you are more fortunate than others and let it rest.”

“No, I want to understand. I need to understand,” I insisted and vented my anger with the next words, “After all, I’m no longer useful to you. But then, why am I still alive? You did kill Bunny after he spilled everything he knew. He did what you wanted and afterwards, you killed him. What happened to ‘The worth of one's life is naturally defined by its usefulness to those who hold power over you.’ I’ve become worthless to you, haven’t I? Where is the difference between him and me? That he was an opportunist and I’m not? You don’t even believe that yourself, do you?”

“Did no one ever tell you that it’s dangerous to call someone out on their bullshit? Though, I guess, with you it was to be expected,” he said it matter of factly and ignored my emotional response, “So, you want to know whether it was on fair terms that I saw value in you and not in that other thief. All I can tell you is this: to value everything in equal fairness, that would be the same as not loving anything uniquely. I never said I cared for justice. I saw potential in you and you have not disappointed. A simple observation. Don’t let it swell your head.”

“So, love at first sight. Why now, I’m flattered!” I said bitterly. But deep in my heart, I understood. I understood where he was coming from. There are no rational criteria when it comes to sympathy and even a rational man is a slave to his baser instincts and human nature.

“I’d call it favouritism. You expected an honest answer to a topic you were serious about. Joking about it now seems a little ridiculous,” he said in a reprimanding tone and scowled.

“I never said I cared about seriousness,” I answered with a shrug, “So, you’re determined to go back? Even though you might die?”

“Yes, there is a good chance I might not. I have yet to get into a situation I can’t talk myself out of. Zola has no proof, after all.”

“Alright,” I said, “I’ll take the money.”

A fleeting expression washed over his face. Was it regret? Did he regret his offer? If so, he didn’t let it on for long.

“Of course,” he concided and threw his pouch in my arms, “I quite understand. This is the logical thing to do. It only makes sense.”

He turned to leave, but my next words stopped him in his tracks.

“And I’ll come with you,” I added determinedly, “I meant what I said, you know. That I’d do anything in this world for you. Anything, really. I’d stick at nothing for you, milord. In a way you saved my life tonight. If not for you, if not for your kindness, I wouldn’t have had any reason to go on living. Your words shall bring the blood of our enemies. Your command shall be my calling. Your desire, their death. I am a loyal soul and I wish to bind myself to you… If you will accept me?”

I was willing to abase myself before him. Willing to be humbled. And I was blissful. There must be something in human beings, that when we are overmastered, we rejoice in our subjection. It was easy to put my faith in him after this eventful night. To think I’d serve him. To risk everything for him. It was a thrilling thought.

So I awaited his reaction with nervous apprehension, for I still feared that he would send me away.

“So you back your mood to last. I’m glad!,” he had held his breath, the same as I had, and let go of it. An approving gleam filled his eyes and a small, warm smile played on his lips as he spoke, “I will provide all the equipment you need, and I can pay you very well. My one condition is that I am your first priority. You must be willing and able to help me at any time I require it, day and night. I am not an easy taskmaster, and I demand obedience above all. If you do not feel you can fulfil those requirements, kindly say so now and I will find someone else,” he made a short pause before he continued, “And I wish to promise you something, too. I’ll do everything within my might that you will not regret this. I’ll be as loyal to you, as you are to me. Whatever you have done before this night shall not matter to me. Whatever you will do after this night shall be fully recognized. I will see that you serve at my side and I will make full use of your abilities. That, I promise you.”

It had been a test, I realized. One last test of his to see that if I was given a choice, a true choice; not between death and subservience, but between a good future and loyalty; that I’d choose this. That I’d choose to be loyal and true to him. And I had chosen him on my own accord and it came to me so naturally that even I was baffled.

And with that realization I followed him. We entered the tunnels and returned to the castle grounds. Lord Leo checked the time as we arrived.

“We need to hurry to the throne room,” he said immediately as we arrived, “It’s quarter past ten.We are late. Listen well, you will kneel before my father, the king, and you will remain in the position. Stay silent unless spoken to. Let me handle the talking.”

We entered the throne room. The other three royal siblings had already assembled. I did as told and got down on my knee before the king, bowing low in respect to his elevated, divine status; while Lord Leo stood straight, his hands folded behind his back, like a soldier at attention.

“You are late, my son,” spoke the king.

“Apologies father, it seems I have not slept all that well due to a break-in this night. My quarters had been vandalized. But worry not, I took care of the matter.”

King Garon had sickly grey skin and a grim frown that had carved itself permanently into his features. He had the heavy built of a warmongering brute, his eyes were sinks of iniquity in themselves, and sank in with blackness, like the rest of him, so that from the man’s distorted body and twisted mind, in occult ways, like mists rising from malarial marshes, came emanations of the unhealth within.

If I dare say so now, he was as cold-blooded as the worst of the emperors. With his huge axe, like a deathman’s, and the most horrible manners even to his children; he was one of the worst, one of the worst that ever was.

And next to him, out of the shadows came his advisor and strategist Iago. A thin lipped, vile man whose biggest fault was his servile subjection to the evil king. Not by reasoning, not by the five senses alone, but by other and remoter and uncharted senses, came the feeling to me that the man was ominous with evil, pregnant with hurtfulness, and therefore a thing bad, and wisely to be feared.

"What's that scroundel doing here?" asked Iago at last, cocking a clear red eye on me. But his strange, low voice said plainly that he knew, and Leo faced him in silence. I did not count the seconds until the next word, but it was King Garon who uttered it at last.

"Is this the culprit? The man who broke into the castle last night? A traitor to his king?" King Garon inquired, relapsing into his drawl and tossing me a contemptuous look.

Leo said I was, and with that took a passionate oath upon my absolute rectitude to his person. There could be no doubting him; but the king's eyes went back and forth between the two of us.

"Well, Birds of a feather flock together,” commented Iago, “Suppose you tell us what happened, before we come to recriminations."

The bad old proverb was the first warning. Yet Iago's voice was easy-going and accompanied by such a reassuring glance of side-long humor, as between man of the world and man of the world, that it was difficult to suspect him of suspicion.

Nevertheless, his attempts at soft-spoken speech carried an underlying tone of threat and I came to fear that he might reveal the truth right then and there, before my Lord even had a chance to explain himself.

I caught two of the royal siblings exchanging concerned glances under raised eyebrows and I myself was itching to be gone.

Leo had turned away, as though in heart-broken contemplation of Iago’s words. I saw the king studying his half-profile with a cold gaze. And how he did stare! I have detested sunken in eyes ever since. And wrinkly skin, and the whole stout, moneyed type that is so full of evil intent.

“Indeed, his action went against our family, but it was born out of need, I too, am in need of a capable retainer. You have told me that I needed to choose a skilled retainer and I have done as told. He has proven his aptitude, far better than anyone could during a tournament, by breaking into this castle. We know our security measures. Their weaknesses are not easy to exploit. The challenges that such an endeavor entails are not easily overcome. I am certain of his usefulness to me and in extension to you. I hereby present you with the man of my choosing, so that you may give your assent.”

“You were supposed to choose a retainer from those recommended to you by the king and me!”, Iago was outraged.

The man stepped even further out of the shadows. The more I saw of the man the more I feared him. His chief annoyance thus far was that Leo had chosen a retainer other than those recommended to him. But he seemed more angry than hurt about that.

Not a word from Leo, and none, you may be sure, from me. The only words that counted now, were those of the king.

Needless to say, everybody in the throne room would wait for what he had to say, as if it was the simplest and most natural thing in the world.

Then after a moment of eery silence, King Garon spoke, “What fool would hire an archer with one eye?”

I had already thought myself riding the crest of the wave. Now I found myself sucked down to the bottom of the wave so I could barely tell which way was up and ran constantly out of air. Life was like that for me, I would get to the top, gasp, and then a new wave crashed me back down. This was no different. I would have laughed had it not been so tragic. Once again, my lost eye would be my undoing. Though I underestimated Leos resolve and that he would take the remark as a personal attack on him.

"I am no fool," cried Leo, and his tone was new to me. I have seldom heard one more indignant.

"Yes," King Garon insisted, “You very clearly are! You must be if you wish to take on this filth as your retainer. A man untutored?! A savage of the lowest kind?”

“His mind may be untutored, but I assure you that it’s active.”

“Son, you should know it better than most. Without cultivation the richest soil produces weed, and nothing else.”

“Then I shall give protection to the plant; give it time to take root; let it thrive and flourish. He is a master bowman. He rivals the best. At a hundred yards he'll hit a target in the bullseye.”

“Is that true, bowman?”, the king cocked an eye in my direction.

With my head bowed I answered, “Yes, my gracious king.”

“As what do you see yourself then, bowman? What use can you be to my son?”

My gaze shot to Lord Leo as if in search for guidance, but he stared straight ahead. Then I remembered how he had looked at me as I had chosen my weapon. How his cold gaze had mustered me, observed me and I realized that I was nothing more than a tool to him. A thing. But if our little adventure with the potion was any indication, he cared deeply for his things. He had used this night to test me again and again and only because I had proven myself useful, did he consider me for this position.

With that in mind I answered, “I am but a mere weapon. To be used until broken.”

A dark laughter erupted from the king's throat at that and he turned back to his son, his voice low and threatening, “So, you truly wish to take him on as your retainer?”

Leo faced him with the monosyllable of confession and assent, “Yes.”

“You’d put your life in his hands?”

“Yes.”

“Proof it.”

“What?”, Leo was taken aback and the tension was etched in his face.

“Are you deaf?! I command you to prove it!”

“But… How?”

“Oh, I have quite the exciting idea concerning that. My king, if you allow me to speak.” Iago interrupted and the room went silent in dreadful apprehension, “Bowman, since at a hundred yards you can hit a target in the bullseye; approve your skill before the king. Take your bow, you hold it in your hand, and ready yourself to shoot a target from Lord Leo’s head. I warn you! Aim well!”

Everyone in the room gave signs of horror, except for the king and his advisor.

My mind was racing. Did Iago know? But then why not spill the truth? Why go to such length? Why choose subtle punishment instead of the severe alternative? Or, even worse, did he not know and something like this was a regular occurrence for the slightest misbehaviour? I could feel the panic rise in my throat.

I should have taken the money and left.

Chapter Text

“What monstrous thing!”, gasped Camilla, “Shoot a target down from Leo's brilliant little head? No no! You can not mean such a thing! May the gods forbid! Father would never allow such a thing!”

But king Garon ignored her concerns and replied, “Bowman, you are to shoot a target from my impudent sons head! I do desire and command it so. Hit it at the first or your head will pay the forfeit!”

I thought that perhaps this was yet another test, to see if I would dare to aim at a prince and replied in the way I thought was expected of me.

“Level my bow at the Lord’s head?! At the man whom I have sworn to protect?! No,” I declared, “rather let me die!”

But the darkness and sternness in the king's voice made it clear that he was serious, “You must shoot, or else both of you will be executed for refusing obedience to your king!”

The king seemed not only willing, but eager, to risk his childs death in such a cruel way. I had heard of infanticide, but this was a deranged order born from an unhealthy mind. To doom his own heir in a game of fate. What madness!
     
The mad king addressed his son in a mocking tone “How now, my son, so discreet upon a sudden. Are you not a visionary? A wanderer from the paths of other men? You love the excitement of difficult, unheard-of tasks. Have I not now given you a task of special daring? Another man might pause and hesitate, but you my son, you dash at it, heart and soul, at once. Is that not so?”

Leos face was bone-white.

Elise stepped forward and dared to interrupt, “Oh father, you’re joking around again. Look at my poor big brother Leo. Look how pale he is. He has no sense of humor, I told you. We had our fun with him. Didn’t we all laugh? Now call it off, will you?”

“Who tells you that I’m joking?”, answered the king, “Iago, give my son the target.”

Iagos hand swiveled through the air, and through lilac fog, a red vegetable appeared. Gracefully, it floated through the room until Leo grabbed it out of the air.

“A tomato,” Leo said, with a quiet voice; soberly, “Of all things a goddamn tomato . There are only few things smaller than that. I don’t see the fun of it. I guess I really lack a sense of humor.”

“Children, make room,” Iago commanded, “And let the bowman take his distance—just eighty paces—as the custom is. Not an inch more or less! It was Lord Leo’s boast, that at a hundred he could hit his man. Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not!”

It was clear that crown prince Xander had no intention of making room. He, who all the while had been standing in a state of violent tension, and had with difficulty restrained himself, advanced with a purposeful stride and straight back. His hand intimidatingly resting on the handle of his sheathed sword.

“Down, Leo, on your knees!” he scowled at his younger brother, “Beg father to spare your life! Father, let this suffice you! It is inhuman to ask this of him. Already, he has suffered tenfold death with this suggestion. He’ll send the archer away and take on a retainer of your choosing. He’ll know better in the future; he will remember this lesson of yours. He is a bright young man after all! Be calm, I beg of you! Father, we bow to your authority, but let justice yield to mercy here!”

“Peace!” Iago hissed, “till your counsel's asked for!”

“Father, you will not urge this matter further. You will not. It was surely but a test. You've gained your object. Rigor pushed too far is sure to miss its aim, however good, as snaps the bow that's all too straightly bent!”

“Silence, big brother!” Leo hushed with shaky voice, “You only exasperate his rage! It is alright. I will take the punishment. Let him proceed!”

“I will speak! I dare! I reverence my king and father; but acts like these will make your name abhorred. Please! Don’t sanction this cruelly!”

“Ha! You grow bold, I think!”, said Iago, his smirk growing ever wider, “You heard Lord Leo. We will proceed.”

The king might release him of the shot, if Lord Leo would fall to his knees now. I had no doubts about that. But I knew that the king would do anything but send me away. I would be killed.

And I feared that Leo would cave in and beg for forgiveness. Cursing myself for trusting someone so blindly after I had just been taught that trust could quickly end in death.

A betrayal can make you think about all the other betrayals and let downs waiting for you.

I felt myself tightening up, bracing. The more Xander spoke, the more certain I became that Leo would denounce me.

“NO,” bellowed Xander, “I won’t allow it! I have been numb to all the oppressions I was doomed to see. I've closed my eyes that they might not behold them. Bade my rebellious, swelling heart be still, and pent its struggles down within my breast. But to be silent longer were to be a traitor to my family and country both.”

“Audacious boy,” Iago cursed at him, “this language to the king?”

“Big brother Xander,” Leo pleaded, “Please don’t waste your breath. Please, I beg you to remain silent on this.”

Trust is a confusing thing, it seems so simple, but when you try to pin it down it can be elusive. Muscles remain tight, anticipating anything, constantly aware. For both of us that initial tension existed so much of the time. We spend so much time watching and calculating. Trying to predict. Reading signals in each other, ready for anything to change suddenly. Preparing to be disappointed. So much energy spent.

People talk about trust as something you build. As though it’s a structure or a thing. But in truth, it is more about letting go. To trust no one... that doesn’t really work.

“Father is right,” Leo said, “If I am to trust my retainer with my life I might as well proof it right here. Right now. I’ll do it. I’ll allow Niles to display his power,” he turned to Iago, “Tell me, where am I to stand?”

Iago pointed at Lord Leo, “Guards, bind the young prince to that pillar!”

“Bind me? That will not be necessary. I do not fear an arrow from my retainers hand. I know he could strike a bird upon the wing and he will not miss now.”

Before taking his place against the pillar, he came up to me and whispered in a low voice, “I have to trust you. When you are my retainer, I’ll quite literally be putting my life in your hands.

You heard what you have to do?”

“What if I miss, milord?”

“Then you'll be the last thing I ever see. So, do us both a favour and don’t miss,” there was something about his attitude, there was no eagerness to perform, it was like his spirit had left him and all which remained was resignation mixed with dread. Though a hint of reassurance lay in his gaze as well and with a louder voice, so that everyone could hear him he boasted while taking his place against the black pillar.

It was as if all depended on a great show of bravery and subservience, “Quick, Niles, show them what you are made of! He doubts your skill! Shoot then and hit through but to spite him! Now, to the task! Men bear not arms for naught.”

He placed the red tomato on his head. At least it was a good visual against the black background.

“This is right, bowman,” said Iago gleefully; the man's eye still upon me, “This is your master's privilege. It pleases you to wear bow and arrow. Well, be it so. I will gladly provide the mark.”

Slowly, I took an arrow from the quiver, clenching my teeth in suppressed anger. How dare them! How dare them mock my loyalty! Making a spectacle out of a punishment and a punishment so harsh, that it could very easily with a flinch on his part or a misaimed arrow on my part result in death. And all of this to teach obedience.

Someone once told me that an arrow may fly through the air and leave no trace; but an ill thought leaves a trail like a serpent. I’m not easy to forget, nor do I forgive easily. In that way, I am no different than Lord Leo. I allowed the humiliation to fuel my resolve.

With boiling hate, I lifted my bow and aimed. Lord Leo stood perfectly still. Our eyes met. And I saw that his brave attitude had truly been nothing but an act. His eyes were gleaming with fright, mine were glistening with determination. But the more I tried to focus, the blurrier my vision got. The red tomato slipped in and out of my vision. Something swam before my eyes. A tremor of warning raced down my spine, my muscles clenched up.

“Hah! Look at you!” Iago remarked maliciously, “You shake—your hand's unsteady—your knees tremble!”

‘This is madness,’ I thought, ‘At this rate I’ll hit him. It’s no use.’ I lowered my bow.

“Release me from this shot!” I said defeated, “Take my head and my life if you must.”

“I do not want your life, archer, but the shot!” interposed the King, “Your talent's universal! Nothing daunts you! Your aim should be true even when there's a life at stake. Now, savior, help my son, save him from your own arrow!”

‘By the dusk dragon, he’s serious! He’ll see this to the end.’

I took a deep breath, allowing my nerves to settle. Clenched and unclenched my right hand, the feeling returned into my fingertips.

I took a second arrow from my quiver and tucked it in my belt. Then, with the first arrow, I aimed. The bowstring brushed against my lip. I felt the tension of the string, how the wood bent beneath my strength.

‘The tomato. It’s the target. Concentrate on it. Do not look at the man, focus on the target. The target is the thing, and the thing needs to be hit.’

My heart started to pound heavily, I felt my face flush red and hot. The sweat rolled down my brow and burned in my eye.

‘Focus... Focus…’

I let go of the bowstring. Shouts of alarm erupted as the other siblings stumbled back. The arrow hit with a “thud’.

Red hit the pillar, dripping down Leo’s head.

Leo took a step. Something was wrong. He wavered and staggered, about to fall. Within a second, Xander was by his side before I could even react.

“Has he been struck?”, I asked fearfully.

‘Failure.’

But then.

“The target has been struck!”, Xander exclaimed, visibly relieved.

“The tomato's down!”, Elise screamed in delight.

Xander waved me off as I drew nearer, “Leo is in shock, that is all.”

“Thank the gods! Leo’s alive!”, Camilla gasped.

Lord Leo righted himself, embarrassed by his involuntary reaction. Though, he looked pale and sickly. I couldn’t blame him. I, too, felt sick.

The arrow had skewered the tomato and pinned it to the black pillar behind him. Leo’s hair was left dripping with tomato flesh.

Leo had not blinked, he had not flinched. He had remained perfectly still and allowed me the masterful shot.

We did good. We were free.

“By heaven!”, Iago exclaimed, “The tomato's a mess. It was a master shot I must admit.”

“The shot was good,” Xander repeated, his angry eyes settling on Iago, “But curse the one who drove the man to tempt the gods by such a feat!”

“Cheer up, my son, rise! Leo has nobly freed himself! Though, a word, bowman!”, the King demanded, “A second arrow in your belt! What’s the purpose?”

“It is the custom with all archers, my king,” I answered all-but-too quick.

“No, I cannot let that answer pass. There was some other motive. I’m sure. Confess the truth. Your life is save, I swear. Wherefore the second arrow?”

“Well, my king, since you have promised not to take my life. I will, without reserve, declare the truth.”

I drew the arrow from my belt, and fixed my eyes sternly on Iago. I scowled, “If I had hit the Lord, this second arrow was meant for you! And, be assured, I should not then have missed.”

The king had a laughing fit at that. He laughed and laughed and it was by far the most terrible laugh I have ever heard.

 "Very well," he said at last, "I approve of your retainer. He is yours to command."

Iago's gaze became dark and foreboding. It spoke of the evil within the man and as I was intent on not forgetting his cruelty, he too seemed to swear to himself to hold me accountable for my impudence and said in a fake good-humoured voice, “Oh, is that a fact? What luck that you are such a good shot! Before I forget, I hope you enjoy every moment in these luxurious grounds as if they might be your last.”

And by the gods had I been any braver I would have used the second arrow right then. If there is one thing I regret, then it’s that I didn’t put an end to Iago. Much senseless suffering could have been avoided that way and I would have earned many a thanks by no small amount of people.

But I lacked the guts. And now it’s too late.

Leo and I had bought our freedom with that daring display of skill and after a swift briefing on the siblings tasks for the day were able to leave. Xander remained in the throne room, obligated to talk some things over with the king.

A maid stood outside with a wash bowl filled with steaming water and a cloth, so that Lord Leo could clean the tomato-juice out of his hair. Camilla and Elise swarmed around him.

“Big brother, you looked super cool!” Elise squealed in excitement.

“Indeed,” Camilla agreed, “now that everything worked out so well for you, I can say that the whole thing was adorable!”

“Geez, that was not the kind of recognition I was aiming for...” murmured Leo.

“Pardon?” asked Camilla, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, big sister,” Leo waved her off, “Just that I agree with you. Niles performed his task to my complete satisfaction.”

He approved of me and I knew I had lightened some of the burden he carried. And despite everything, the moment in itself was greater, more triumphant, than my most sanguine dreams.

Trust, I realized, might very well be worth it.

The heavy doors of the throne room were forced open with much vigor.

“ Reckless !” the sharp voice of the crown prince snapped us out of the moment, “Absolutely reckless! Leo ?!”

Leo stiffened as if he’d been snapped to attention, while Camilla and Elise stepped aside as Xander approached with large steps.

“Have you lost your mind?! To provoke father like that is bad enough, but what if anything would have happened to you? What would you have me do then?!”

“But everything worked out—”

“Even so. It was as much luck as skill that guided your servant's hand!”

“Maybe, but did I not estimate the probability correctly?”, Leo smirked.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done, Leo!? Why did you not talk to me beforehand?”

“There was no time—”

“I want none of your excuses. You’ve played right into Iago's hands with this. Or was that your plan all along?! Was that act nothing but a ruse?!” Xander's voice was like a lash - not loud, but sharp and with true aim.

Leo recoiled as if he had been struck. Yet he opened his mouth in reply, “Wh-What do you mean by that!?”

“Iago has tried to convince father to draft criminals into the army,” Xander explained angrily, “That would be an utter disgrace for the Nohrian military. It would spatter the reputation of our honourable soldiers! No argument can stop that from happening now that you have taken on a thief as your retainer. Tell me, little brother, was that your intention?”

“N-no! NO! Of course not, big brother!”

“Then it’s even worse. I could have respected you if you had done this for your own beliefs, but knowing that you allowed yourself to be used as a pawn… I thought you were smarter than this…” every word was drenched in disappointment, “This is a sad day for Nohr, I hope you understand at least that much.”

Xander brushed past him and continued his purposeful stride.

“Xander wait!” Leo called out to him, “What’s your punishment for speaking up?”

Xander's shoulders sagged miniscule at that, “There is no punishment, little brother. I’ve been given a task. That is all.” And then he left without another word.

Chapter Text

All things considered, I was pleased that I was still alive. Especially with what had transpired the night before. My head ached. I was starving, since I had eaten nothing but scraps for the past weeks and missed dinner the night before; my ribs were sore, but nothing was broken.

“So, are we gonna go for that drink, Milord?”

His face showed no emotion—but that was a real change, since he had been smiling and pleasant until Xander spoke to him.

Something had gone wrong.

Indeed, I knew him well enough now that I thought I recognized the signs of anger. Or maybe—I wondered—hurt.

It gave me a revelation.

He truly cared about what his big brother thought of him, more so than he cared for what any other member of his family thought. It made me resent the crown prince for his callous words. This should have been a moment of triumph and with just a few words, it had been ripped away from us.

“Well, you said: Work first, play afterward,” I tried once more, hopeful. “I’d suggest it’s time to play.”

“Haven’t you heard?!” he snapped. “This isn’t the right time to celebrate! I have made a terrible mistake. I’ve made the wrong choice.”

I guess I should have been offended, oddly enough, I wasn’t.

“Choices are overrated, Milord,” I said. “We're all fate's bitch. You might as well go ahead and bend over for destiny.”

"You think nobody has control of anything ?" Leo asked sharply.

“I think you can’t control everything ,” I replied.

“So I should cease struggling against my fate?”

“Life can be sort of peaceful when you stop struggling,” I gave him a wicked grin, “It's a lot like bondage that way.”

He gave me a pointed look and I knew he was thinking about lecturing me right here and now, but in the end chose not to.

“Well, either way,” he said, “I need to catch up with my studies. Last night was a complete waste of my time in that regard. Wait here, I will arrange for someone to show you to your room. Take a rest, eat something. You can come by later and I’ll reward you with a bottle of the good stuff, since I indeed promised you a drink.”

“You are much too generous, milord.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.”

“Then it’s a pleasure to see you in pain.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?” his voice had an edge to it.

I ignored his tone, “How would I know that you don’t have any more to say?”

Lord Leo frowned, “I’m always up for a stimulating discussion, but right now you are just irritating.”

“I have much more ways to stimulate you than by mere discussion,” I replied smoothly.

His frown deepened, “Well, now you are also making me second guess my choices... Niles, have a good day. I will enjoy the silence of my study.”

I admit, it was rather unwise to push the boundaries so soon. But it was hard to resist. Now that I had sworn my life to him, we had all the time in the world. I could ease him into my banter and perhaps into some other things as well in due time.

“I’LL SHOW HIM AROUND!” Elise screeched with excitement.

Leo glared at her, but then shrugged with a sigh, “It’s rather unbecoming of you, Elise. But do as you wish, it’s not like anyone could ever stop you.”

“See!? At least you know what you’re up against!” Elise giggled, grabbed me by the hand and dragged me along.

It was a warm morning, and the castle staff was as busy as the bees in their hive. You could hear the same hum of human industry in the service entrances. But Elise, through all this motley assemblage, threaded her way with the skill of an accomplished social butterfly. Before I could even say or do anything, I had a loaf of bread and a bowl of soup in my hand—it was the only thing stopping me from making crude remarks—and Elise talked giddily with the servants. It seemed as though she knew every servant by name and while introducing me, she inquired about their families and well-being with follow-up questions to conversations that had seemingly been held not too long ago.

Her face flushed while doing so and her long blonde pigtails floated out behind her. I didn’t much care for the conversations nor had I any reason to be nice to those pampered maids and butlers.

Many a man must have felt long-forgotten thoughts revive in their mind as they watched Elise lithe girlish figure tripping through the castle, or met her mounted upon her steed, and managing it with all the ease and grace of a true child of royal heritage.

As I soon learned, Elise grew up within the castle palace, and assisted her father and siblings in all their undertakings.

The comfortable hallways of this place and the elderly, soft-spoken Cassita took the place of nurse and mother to the young girl. And by that womans accounts, as year succeeded to year Elise had grown taller and stronger, her cheek more rudy, and her step more elastic.

So the bud blossomed into a flower, and despite her girlish nature it was obvious, the child had developed into a young woman. That mysterious change is often too subtle and too gradual to be measured by dates. Least of all does the maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice or the touch of a hand sets her heart thrilling within her, and she learns, with a mixture of pride and of fear, that a new and a larger nature has awoken within her.

With one little incident a man could herald the dawn of a new life. In the case of Elise I chose wisely not to make any such move. I rather enjoyed her happy and carefree nature, though I would have surely resented any other person for that luxurious life she was living. In truth, I even resented the servants for their prosperous upbringing within the heavy walls of Castle Krakenburg.

I liked Elise, though, and that admittance is serious enough in itself.

After that stop, she was dashing out of the castle into the castle gardens, with me in tow. She regarded me, a thief and criminal, with all the fearlessness of youth, thinking only of her task and how it was to be performed.

The maids gazed after her in astonishment, and even the unemotional guards, journeying the pathways with their weapons, relaxed their accustomed stoicism as they marvelled at the beauty of the maiden.

Elise truly had a way to shine and lighten up both, the halls and the mood, within this dark place.

“See?! This is my most favourite place in the whole castle,” she said and pointed to a bench in front of a small bed of white flowers.

“Milady, I’d say this place isn’t even in the castle.”

“Heh heh, yeah well, you know what I mean. Aren’t these flowers absolutely beautiful?”

I took a deep breath. These flowers, the smell... it made a strange feeling well in my stomach, one I couldn’t quite place. These flowers they—

“—stink. You stink like poo.” I told her.

“I smell like a flower,” she said, “At least that’s what he told me! He gifted me a perfume.”

“Why, though? What was wrong with the way you smelled before?”

“Ugh,” she hesitated, “Well, I don’t know. But he said that’s what the nobility does.”

“And that’s why you have to do it, too?” I asked rather sceptical.

“I’ll do whatever he tells me to,” she swore, “He said that I was beautiful. That I was unlike any girl he has ever seen.”

I could see the hunger in her eyes. Not the regular hunger, for food, but the real hunger, the deep hunger, for family, for love, for belonging. She got a little of that by being his lover. But the man was promising even more.

“He said that if I keep on being a good girl, he might make me his missus.”

“Lies,” I remember telling her. “He is telling you nothing but lies.”

“But he gives me more than that,” she had said, reached into her pocket and handed me a little bag with raisins.

I took one of it. Put it in my mouth. Did not even bite down on it. Just kept it there, one of the sweetest things I had ever tasted.

"You know," I said, "no matter how long you hold it in your mouth, it never turns back into a grape."

"What's a grape?" she asked, but I gave her no answer since I had never even tasted one myself.

Days later, I remember searching for her. That poor, stupid, kind, decent girl. I hadn’t seen her in an unnaturally long time. I worried for her.

Or maybe I was just going crazy over nothing. He was hugging her, wasn't he? She came willingly, didn't she? That man is a provider, a protector, not a murderer. It's my mind that works that way, my mind that thinks of killing someone who is helpless, just because one can. That man is the good one. I'm the bad one, the criminal.

That man is the one who knows how to love. I'm the one who doesn't.

Some part of me wished that I would not find her. That I would meet her years later, on some market square, where she would be holding a child's hand and carrying another in her arms, buying fresh vegetables and as many potatoes as she could carry.

I remember looking down. There at my feet, in the gutter lay a torn up figure, or what little remained of it.

“Niles?”

I looked at it for a while, uncomprehending. But then I understood that I had known all along what it was, I just didn't want to believe it. It was her. She was dead. It was just as I had feared. The city of Windmire had conquered and beaten her down until she would never move nor struggle again.

I knew the murderer, but even if I had any proof, there was no chance that anyone would convict someone of nobility over a dead street urchin. I had been right about everything and I felt never less satisfied for it. Whatever it was that had passed between them, it didn't have the power to block the hatred the rich had for the poor.

Then I only remember an old brick. A field mouse. Torrential rain. Some kind of...horribly disfigured man. A pile of money. The taste of blood.

I remember shaking uncontrollably and I started—

“—Crying… Niles. Hey, listen up! You are crying. What’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s the flowers,” I heard myself speaking. “I must be allergic. Or maybe I’m crying because I’m so very happy. These flowers, we don’t have anything like this in Windmire.”

“Yay! I’m so glad you like them, too. Wait, there are no such flowers in Windmire!? But flowers make people happy. Well, it will not do that there are no such things in Windmire. That must be changed immediately! See, they made you so happy that you even started crying.”

And she laughed, while I had a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Could you show me my room now?”, I asked.

“—Yes, of course.”

“Or no,” I changed my mind, “could you show me the shooting range instead?”

“Well, yes. It’s not very far from here.”

I followed her and it didn’t take us long to reach the shooting range. We were alone and Elise left me soon enough, as well.

I was tired and felt giddy. I knew that even if I tried, I wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep. My mind was racing. All my life I had avoided the real hunger, the deep hunger, for family, for love, for belonging, for a purpose. Just to find myself captured by those same lies.

My doubts rekindled. What if my struggle would end like hers? Fate has a way to fuck us all over. But perhaps I should just ban thoughts like these from my mind and bend over for destiny.

It was worth the risk, I decided, and I had no reason to mistrust Lord Leo. After all, I had risked my life before for far less. The thing that bugged me, however, was that I had never this much to lose. The stakes were, for the first time in my life, incredibly high.

My marksmanship was miserable. I missed more than I hit and rarely got a bullseye. But it was the familiar movement of drawing the bow and releasing the arrow that calmed me like nothing else ever could.

I think my day could have become more tolerable, had I not gotten a certain visitor.

Xander was a man endowed with a firm dignity he could rightfully boast about.
A man with a defined meaning behind his birth, behind his own existence, and followed it without a doubt. One of those remaining 'genuine aristocrats' you would rarely find nowadays. He definitely would never waver, never hesitate.
An iron will of acting with a clear objective, vectorized only by the fulfillment of 'something' that was identified as his lifelong goal, in any aspect of his life.

The 'form of this conviction' was in his case nothing but a pious and tragic faith in his father's choices and a deep devotion for his fatherland.

But even so, he was of a type that was incompatible with my kind. Those who see only their ideals can never understand the pain of those unable to have one. For most of my life I had been a man who couldn't have any such thing as a sense of purpose in the first place.

And crown prince Xander couldn't even understand how he was so far removed from the sense of values that the ordinary world held, that any form of mutual understanding was futile.

“You! Thief .” he addressed me loudly before he had even reached my side, “I don’t know what you did to make my brother trust you, but know that if you step out of line, you’ll lose your place in it.”

“Oh, crown prince Xander. What an honor!” I said with a faint, ironical smile and gave a mock bow, “Please, go on. Make your threats. I don't like to submit to mere implication.”

“Do you think this is a game?!”

“I don’t know. Perhaps we should make it one.”

There was a swift movement and I had Siegfried at my throat. It’s darkness licked at my face like ravenous flames. The sword roared of joy and of the desire to consume everything that lay before it.

“You think I’d have any inhibitions killing a thief?”

My Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, but other than that my fear never made it to my facial muscles or skin. My eyes remained as steady as if I was shopping for a pair of new boots and my voice did not betray me either.

“Oh please, don’t be shy around me!” I said off-handedly and put as much authority behind my next words as I could muster, “But my name is Niles and I am the retainer of prince Leo of Nohr. I have sworn my loyalty to him and I will stand beside him on the battlefield and off. All I want to do is find some sort of grace, something that gives my life purpose. Just once before I die. Whatever else I am, whatever else it means, that's the man I want to be. Lord Leo gave me that and if you decide to slay me—with your divine sword—that's the man you will have killed. I’ve heard you can cut a man and his horse in half. So go ahead. Act as you see fit, if you think it'll satisfy you. I invite you. Here is my torso!” I spread my arms in callous invitation, “Give it a good slash! Do it!”

“I will not kill you… for now ,” the crown prince said and sheathed his sword, “And not because of your words—mind you—because I don’t care how guilty you try to make me feel! Men like you. Men without honour disgust me! You will need a miracle to get on my good side.”

He looked at the target I had practiced on and clicked disparagingly with his tongue as he saw how often I had missed the mark.

“You almost killed him today. I have no mercy for people who hurt the ones I care about. I’ll stay my hand because my brother risked a lot to have you. But if you do end up hurting him, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth and back. If I must tear you apart— Niles —I will. Remember that.”

The humiliation burned under my skin. Xander had already turned to leave.

“Hah! That’s rich!” I snarled at his back, the words sputtered out of my mouth without any regard for my own well-being, “If you look for the person who hurts your brother, you might as well look at your own reflection!”

He spun around and grabbed me by the collar.

“Say that again. I dare you!”

“Oh gladly, since you’re deaf,” I said, “The things you say to him, he obviously takes them to heart! He looks up to you! You should watch your words more carefully. My lewd remarks hold nothing against your condescension.”

His eyes widened in shocked realization and glazed over as if in reminiscence about his exchange with his brother. But it was only short-lived.

“You will keep a civil tongue in that mouth,” he threatened, “or I will sew it shut. Is there an understanding between us?”

“Lord Leo doesn't pay me to talk pretty,” I said more sulky than in defiance.

“Either your overbearing manner improves around me, or your graveside one does. Choose wisely ,” his fists tightened around the fabric some more before he shoved me back, “Get out of my face. Right now. And don't let us meet again.”

I stumbled a bit and my every movement spelled out submission, though my words did not, “What's this? The crown prince pleading for his life?”

He gave me a hard glare, “I am pleading for yours.”

I scrambled to my feet and left in a hurry.

Chapter Text

It’s easy to imagine that for the next hours I remained in my new quarters within the castle. Mindful to remain out of the crown princes sight. Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, something troublesome transpired.

Well, that thing I am about to describe happened without my presence. Which means, that the accuracy of my account about what may have occurred is rather dubious in its nature, as is always the case when information is passed on from person to person.

If I had to suspect that you merely listened to this because of some morbid sense of curiosity I would keep my mouth shut and I needn’t remind you that you must treat this with the utmost discrecion, after all, it was told to me maybe not in complete confidentiality, but certainly in a moment of emotional vulnerability and I do not take the confidence that has been put in me lightly.

Maybe you ought to know, anyhow, for if you are to understand the man I swore my life to, you must know that part of him also.

Nohr never had a greater mage than prince Leo. I said it at first and I say it still, and I never swerved an inch, either. His strength and skill are unmatched, never once forget that.

And when a man has the genius Leo has, one should feel it an honour to know him, no matter what your thoughts may be upon my revelations.

Though, you have already proven that you are not one to judge or condescend.

After parting from Camilla, Leo went to his study, just to be met by Iago. Leo frowned. The man had the rude habit of teleporting himself in front of people.

“Why the long face, prince?” asked Iago undisturbed.

“Why?! Has anyone ever looked happy to see you?” asked Leo.

Iago smirked and put an arm across Leo’s shoulder and led him away. Leo knew better than to resist, but he severely disliked the arm-across-the-shoulder move - it was how one man asserted superiority over another. Iago pretended as if it was nothing more than an assertion of camaraderie. Even conspiracy.

“Care for a game of chess, prince?” Iago asked innocently.

“If you wish to lose,” replied Leo and grimaced.

Iago guided him into his office. It was quite spacious but furnished modestly, thrillingly suggestive of the times of Cagliostro, Hanussen and the beginning of Nohrian Witchcraft. The interior panelling was dictated by the progress of taste at that time. The office faced south and it’s construction, over a century and a half ago, had followed the specific requirements stipulated by one of the more modest magicians of that particular era. Despite it’s size and the high ceiling, it seemed rather empty and unhomely, some would even say cold, and in that way congenial to Iago.

They sat down in two separate seats across from each other, the chessboard in between them.

Leos mind went naturally through all the strategical possibilities. Already asking the right questions.

Where and how should he move? How will the enemy approach? Thoughts like these; with enough repetition, anybody can master them.

“You're blessed with abilities that few men possess,” began Iago and moved a white pawn in the centre, “You're blessed to belong to the most powerful family in all the known kingdoms. And you're still blessed with youth and a face so handsome that one would wish to slash it open. And what have you done with these blessings, eh? Nothing. What accomplishments do you have to show for them? None. Ah, that face! You disagree? ”

“You speak with envy,” replied Leo and moved his own pawn to the front, “It is true Birthright is given. But power is earned. And soon I will prove myself on the battlefield. I have no doubts. They will speak about my accomplishments for generations. Have I not attained immense power? Is it not on par with yours?”

“Hmph, barely. I must admit,” said Iago and moved his knight.

"Not your wisest move," remarked Leo.

"Nor my worst,” replied Iago, “Don't get cocky, prince." 

“Oh, I would never dream of it,” said Leo with a smirk.

‘You know what, Iago,’ he thought, ‘I’m gonna mow you over. I’m gonna show you pure power. I’m going to completely dominate the center. I’ll make you face a chess game where your side of the board has nothing but pawns, and I’ll have a double complement of knights, rooks, and bishops. You might as well resign the game, pal.’

But Iago did not pay any mind to the game at hand, his objective lay elsewhere.

“Have you ever wondered why your brother, the crown prince, speaks so highly of Corrin, but never mentions you?”

Leo’s face fell.

“Oh, you didn’t know?! Well, it’s the truth,” Iago continued. “Not a day goes by without him talking about Corrins many talents. I think he even once said that he has as much brains when it comes to tactics and strategy as you, if not more so! What do you think will happen when your father allows him to leave the fortress one day? When he joins our ranks? You will be obsolete. Corrin is just another person who easily overshadows you.”

“Corrin is my brother, nothing could ever make me hate him,” swore Leo, but the humiliation stung him to the heart, as though it were a fresh wound he had just received, “Nor would I ever, under any given circumstances, bring harm upon him. We’ve got each others back, of course you wouldn’t understand that. Betrayal will never again sully the halls of this castle. Your words don’t change that.”

‘Clack.’ Leo lifted his finger from the black bishop he'd just played, smirking at the stunned look on Iago's face.

“Don’t you see, I only wish to help you!” insisted Iago and continued the game swiftly, but blindly. “I know that you have struggled to become stronger for quite some time now. You learned how to control Brynhildr fast, but since then there is little improvement to your abilities. With your genius you mastered that divine weapon faster than any ordinary man would, I’ll grant you that. But you also reached your zenit way faster,” he said and took one of Leos central pawns with his own bishop, while a knight gave protection from behind.

‘Not a bad move,’ thought Leo as his gaze flew over the chess pieces, ‘But I’m castled and got my entire army developed and he only has a couple of pawns out. I have more space in the center and I’m vastly superior in my advancement. I’ll crush you, while you can talk all you want. Political speech like this is not so different to other fights. It’s all maneuver and avoiding battle until you have overwhelming superiority.’

 “Face it,” argued Iago, “You have reached your full potential. From now on, all you can become is weaker.”

“My power is ever growing, not failing,” Leo said, taking Iagos argument down with one sentence.

 "You keep telling yourself that!” insisted Iago and made a ridiculous pawn move, “It won’t change the facts! But I could tell you how you can become stronger. A way to true power. You would never again remain in the shadows of your siblings. They would look up to you and your raw might. They would finally notice you. Respect you. Adore you.”

“Iago,” Leo said with annoyance in his voice, “You have an outstanding ability to talk for long periods of time about things that have no significance to me.”

“I’d like to differ. You care very deeply about their perception of you and you know I’m right. You’ve noticed it too. You are too smart not to see your own failures. Your own limitations,” Iago started a very effective counterattack on the chessboard and smirked. “You don’t have anything to say to that, prince?”

“I’m not commenting because the remark was completely arbitrary,” Leo bit nervously on his thumb, deep in thought. If he wasn’t careful now, Iago would put him in check within the next few rounds.

“You are always so perceptive,” sneered Iago, “except when it comes to your own family. Then you are unwilling to see.”

Well, Leo had miscalculated and made a mistake, leaving his army of chess pieces open to an attack.

 Most of Leos army was on the left, while his king was on the right. He shifted a knight to protect his king, while Iago pushed his pawns further towards Leos castled-in king.

‘This is becoming a strategic nightmare,’ thought Leo, ‘My king side is absolutely decimated. Just a couple moves ago I had you on the ropes! Now, you’ve taken complete advantage of my mistake.’

“My family is…” he hesitated, completely off balance. “...unique. But any disadvantages I might bring to the table are of no concern. I can always rely on the strength of my siblings.”

“Is that so?” Iago clicked with his tongue and threatened Leo’s king, “Check.”

Suddenly, Leo felt completely sobered up. Was he really this tired? Was his mind this sluggish, just because he lacked a few hours of sleep? He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the chessboard as if it was a foreign thing.

Leo moved out of the check by shifting his king to the right. Iago brought down the bishop, threatening a rook, Leo brought the rook out of danger. But Iago put his queen into attack range.

It didn’t look good for him. But Leo wouldn't give up. There was some way to get back on track. And sitting there in Iago's office, leaning back in his chair, his opponent's words washing over him, he'd think of it.

He step-by-step beat back Iago's counterattack, once again threatening a white knight with his black rook. Iago allowed him to take the knight out.

“You know, I’m not your enemy,” Iago insisted once more, “I have been your teacher for half your life and would like to be once more.”

Leo would have liked to believe that. But Iago had not been his teacher, only his master, and it was not the same. Nor had Iago ever stood by him, as far as he could remember. Hadn't Iago's whole program of teaching been to get Leo to believe to the depth of his soul that there would never be anyone standing by him?

And despite him saying otherwise, that lesson was the one he had learned the best: that he was always alone, that no one would ever help him, that whatever must be done, only he could do.

And it was all a lie. Surround a child with lies, and he clings to them like his mother's hand. And the worse, the darker the lie, the more deeply he has to draw it inside himself in order to bear the lie at all.

In fact, when I think about it now with the additional knowledge of all these years in his service, Lord Leo is the least-alone person I have ever known. His heart always included within it everyone who let him love them, and many who did not. I for one, knew he came to hold me there, and it made us one with each other. Yet the gift he gave others, none was able to give him, and all because Iago, his mother, King Garon and even Queen Arete did their evil work too well, and built a wall in his mind that cannot let him receive the knowledge of what he means to others.

“Oh, I know. You are one of the good guys,” Leo said and scoffed.

At this point, he had found the move with which he could quit reacting to his opponent's advance on the chessfield and immediately take charge of the game. Iago had been imposing his will onto him, now it was his turn.

“Well, isn’t that the truth?” asked Iago, “Have I not been in your father's services for quite some time? I live to serve. All for the glory of Nohr.”

“Of course. ‘All for the glory of Nohr.’ How could I ever deny that. But just now, you talked too much. Should’ve kept your attention on the game. Your king has nowhere to go. Check and checkmate,” Leo smiled triumphantly, “And you fool call yourself a strategist.”

“Prince Leo, I am a reasonable man,” Iago knocked his king over without so much as looking, “Dispose of your illusory fantasy of a healthy and loving family and accept me as your master once again. I will help you attain the power you so desperately seek. Only when you have become stronger than them will they see the true you. Who you really are. And only then will they truly love and respect you the way you want them to.”

"Gods,” Leo rolled his eyes, “If I had known you would try to psychoanalyse me I wouldn’t have come.”

“I take that as a no.”

They faced each other across the table, a loud silence between them. Leo wasn't even sure they'd been quarreling, but it sure felt like it.Despite the mildness of their exchange, he couldn't help but feel that he'd just been threatened.

“Indeed. I politely decline your generous offer,” he concluded; stood up, took his things and turned to leave. “I’ll leave you now to your duties.”

“Not so fast! Before you go. Tell me,” Iago said at last and eyed Leo. “What did you do with the Kriemhild potion?”

It did take Leo off-guard, since Iago had been careful just to nag about his family, but it didn’t come as a complete surprise. In any case, he kept his face unreadable and perhaps that was a mistake. Maybe he should have put on a face of utter indignation.

“I disposed of it.” said Leo, resorting to half-truths. “In accordance to my father's order.”

“Don’t take me for a fool. I know for a fact that you didn’t.”

“Is that so?” echoed Leo mockingly, “Then I’m sure that if you resort to such serious allegations you can provide the necessary proof.”

“You think my word wouldn’t be enough?”

“In fact,” Leo said, “I know that your word wouldn’t be enough.”

“Don’t be too sure of yourself, prince,” hissed Iago threateningly, “With every day that passes, your father becomes harsher. My word might not suffice now, but soon, it will. But for now, I have something to show to you.” he reached underneath the table and put the end of a broken arrow next to the chessboard. Leo noticed the distinct red fletchings. “Here, wanna know where I got this broken end of an arrow? It was buried deep within Zolas shoulder.”

So I had hit Zola on that square after all! Just in the moment in which he had teleported away, my arrow had hit his shoulder! I was self-satisfied when first Leo told me, until I realized the consequences.

“And you see, if I compare it to the arrow with which your new retainer hit the tomato,” Iago pulled another arrow with the same fetchings out and put it next to the broken arrow, “you’ll notice that they are one and the same.”

Leos guts twisted with nervousness.

“Is that proof enough, prince?! Arrows like that are rare. I know I can’t harm you with this, but I could have your retainer hanged for attacking a royal mage. You were able to pardon him for killing a few guards and breaking into the castle, but you won’t be able to save him from this. Oh, and that after you risked your life to have him serve you… That would be rather unfortunate, don’t you think?”

So that was the reason why Iago had made me shoot a target, so that he could wave this arrow as proof and leverage in front of Leo.

It should be noted that any idiot can threaten wildly and call a person names, but only a great man can make a threat really scare or ring true.

That’s because only a real artist knows the actual anatomy of the terrible or the physiology of fear—the exact sort of lines and body-language that connects up with latent instincts or hereditary memories of fright, and the proper contrasts and effects to stir the dormant sense of helplessness.

I don’t have to tell you why my threats really bring a shiver while a cheap one-liner merely makes people laugh. There’s something one must catch—beyond life—to be able to induce fear and make the heart stop beating for a second. King Garon had it. I have it.

And Iago had it as no man ever had it before or—I hope to heaven—ever will again.

But despite all this, my Lord remained calm and level-headed. He wouldn’t allow Iago to trap him with vague threats.

“You know,” he said slowly, “If you think my father would care whether Zola, or any other royal mage for that matter, is dead or alive you are clearly mistaken. This,” he pointed at the arrows with the red fetchings, “is no substantial proof for anything and if you believe this would be enough to get a master bowman in my service hanged, you are delusional. I hope you have a good day.” He meant to leave.

“Ehem,” Iago cleared his throat, “I don’t think I dismissed you yet.”

Leo stopped dead in his tracks and gave Iago a hard look. He hissed sharply, “Of course! That would be a ridiculous notion since you are no longer my superior. I am a prince of Nohr! A dark knight! Remind me again of your station.”

 
“Oh! If it’s a reminder you need… let me give you a helping hand in the matter,” One quick movement and a spell erupted from Iago's tome Ginnungagap. Leo jerked back, cat-quick. He managed to dodge the approaching spell in the last second, and danced away from a follow-up strike.

If Leo hadn’t expected the attack, it would have ripped him apart. But he had been tense and mistrusting around Iago the whole time. And wisely so!

For once, Leo did not retaliate with an immediate counterattack. He stood still, alert and curious, surveying the strange behaviour of the man before him.

 "You’d try the same trick twice?” Leo asked stunned, “Are you insane?! We’ve been through this before. This is ridiculous; disgraceful even. I will not go easy on you if you continue this madness!”

“Do not push it, Lord Leo. You have told me everything I needed to know. Yield! I will not ask twice. You've not seen the depths of what I'm capable of.”

“Oh, on the contrary. I found out the way your mind works and the kind of man you are. I know your plans and expectations - you've burbled every bit of strategy you've got. I know exactly what you will do, and exactly what you won't, and I've told you exactly nothing.”
Iago rounded the table and took a fighting stance. Leo took a few steps back and did the same.

Chapter Text

He eyed Iago unbelievingly, but Iago did not seem at all hesitant to fight. Leo on the other hand was not afraid, but merely lazy. Besides, it did not seem necessary to him to fight his former teacher once again in single combat. Things were settled between them in that regard. This seemed like a pointless exercise, born out of spite.

Iagos hands rubbed against the spine of his tome Ginnungagap.

“You think you know everything, don't you? You think because you understand military thinking that you understand political thinking, too. You think you're the clever little prince who knows everything. There's so much you don't know, so much. What do you know, really? You wake up every morning of your life and you know perfectly well that there's nothing in the world to trouble you. You live in a dream. And I brought you nightmares. Or did I? Or was it a silly, inexpert little lie? You're a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? Do you know that the world is a foul place? Do you know, if you rip off a man's face, you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it? What does it matter that I add to it’s misery with my own hands?”, the effect was irritating, for the weapon seemed to hum with magic, very softly, deep from within. There was a strange correspondence in rhythm between the vibrating air and the movements of the man’s hands. The sound rose with the culmination of each forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh with the beginning of the next movement. The end of his

movement came abruptly, the rhythm died down,

“Wake up, Leo. Use your wits. Learn something. Learn that I am your superior!”

Iagos attack came with a jerk, Leo sidestepped it, but the black chasm of Iago's tome Ginnungagap passed him in such close proximity that he could feel it pull on his limbs and armor.

This was not without its effect on Leo. His hair began to rise on his neck and across his arms.

It was on.  

They fought in a businesslike sort of way.

There was purpose in their methods—something for them to do that they were intent upon doing and from which nothing could distract them.

Iagos whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with the purpose of winning. It puzzled Leo. Shouldn't the man know the futility of this fight?

Leo’s eyes seemed metallic and like hot steel as they flashed upon his enemy.

Iago had no protection. His flesh as soft as that of a rotting corpse, and he would bleed easily.  There was no thick armor to protect him from incoming advances, his magic resistance however would give Brynhildr some issues. He’d have to hit Iago often to force the man to his knees.

Leo on the other hand had his armor, which to his dismay wouldn’t be able to save him from Ginnungagap’s powerful dark chasms. His training, agility and resourcefulness were much better tools against this foe.

Iago did not have much luck with his attacks. Each time that Iago send his spell towards Leo, Leo dodged.

Not that Iago was slow.  He could turn and whirl swiftly enough, but his tome was ponderous. When it’s dark chasm came for Leo, he was never there.

But Leo could not get a clear hit on Iago either. No vine caught him in his tracks. No thorn struck at the soft underside of the throat.

The mans movements and steps were those of someone accustomed to fighting.

Though once, Leo scored a good hit; for the moment baffled, Iago came to a full stop and blinked, at the same time smirking as an expression of his willingness to continue the fight.

In that moment of Iagos hesitation, Leos tree magic was in upon him and out, in passing ripping at his masked remnant of a face, thrashing it wide open.

With a slight manifestation of anger, Iago doubled his efforts and strived to fasten his deadly attacks on Leo. The attack missed by a hair’s-breadth, and a cry of indignation went from Leos throat as he doubled suddenly out of the danger zone in the opposite direction.

“You should face the truth, young prince, you will never be as strong as you ought to be,” Iago sneered.

“There is no meaning in strength only used to hurt others!” Leo rebutted and send another attack Iago's way.

Iago shielded himself expertly, “As if I ever taught you anything else!” Another spell sprung from Ginnungagap.

The time went by. Leo still danced on, dodging and doubling, leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage.  

And still Iago, with grim certitude, toiled after him. Sooner or later he would accomplish his purpose, casting the curse that would win the battle. In the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other could deal him. His arms were ripped open, his neck and shoulders were slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were cut and bleeding—all from these damned tree branches that were beyond his foreseeing and guarding.

Time and again Leo had attempted to knock Iago off his feet; but Iago's stance was too good. It put Iago at maximum ease, allowed for perfect fluidity of movement, and optimal transference of force.

Leo tried the trick once too often. The chance came in one of his quick doublings and counter-circlings. He caught Iago with head turned away as he whirled more slowly.  His shoulder was exposed. Leo drove in upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he struck with such force that the blowback of Brynhildr's powerful spell hurled him backwards a few feet. A smaller blast from Iagos Ginnungagap hit him in turn and the nasty combination of both forces acted together. For the first time in his fighting history, Leo lost his footing.

His body turned a half-somersault in the air, and he would have landed on his back had he not twisted, catlike, still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. As it was, he struck heavily on his side. The next instant he was on his feet, but just then Iago cast a dead-aim curse.

It hit him square across his left side. The sensation that of burning, the consistency that of acid. Leo cursed loudly and wheezed in pain. He could feel how it slowly burned away his armor and settled on his raw flesh. He screamed and ripped the affected part of his armor off. The parts hit the floor, still seething and steaming from where the curse had hit.

But this was not the end of it. Slowly, the curse closed in on him, settling on his skin, seeping and burning its way inside . It was like Iago had took hold of him. And there was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and as inexorable. Slowly it shifted up along his chest and all that saved Leo from death was his extraordinary magical capability. It served to form a barrier in his bloodstream, a block that defied Iago’s dark magic. But bit by bit, whenever the chance offered, Iago was getting more under his skin and it burned everything away like acid.  

Iago observed passively. His was not a good hit, he contemplated, being too low down towards the side; but he still had control of the spell, being ever connected to it and in that moment, he chose to hold on.  

Leo became livid. He poised himself, the purple gleam of his tome accentuating his hatred as he bellowed threateningly, “How dare you use such a vile curse on me!”

If that was the worst of it, Leo didn’t care.
With this curse in his bloodstream, his body was already torn apart.

But he was determined to still hold his ground.
He swore to frantically endure any attack coming down at him.

He commanded his tome and trees tore wildly around.

“Everything that happened last night - you thought it up! Maybe this is all a trick —a way to get me so confused... that I'd forget who I really am and become your slave again. But either way... I've finally broken your hold over me.”

The dark curse made Leo frantic, this clinging, dragging weight that bore in his side. It bound his movements, restricted his freedom. It was like a trap, and all his instinct resented it and revolted against it. It was a mad revolt. For several minutes he was to all intents insane. The basic life that was in him took charge of him. The will to exist of his body surged over him. He was dominated by this mere flesh-love of life.

All intelligence was gone. It was as though he had no brain. His reason was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist and move, at all hazards to move, to continue to move, for movement was the expression of its existence.

Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, sending attack after attack, trying to shake off the horrendous pain that dragged at his body.

Iago did little but keep his grip on the curse. Sometimes, and rarely, he managed for a moment to brace himself against Leo’s attacks. But the next moment his footing would be lost and he would be dragged around in the whirl of one of Leo’s mad attacks.

But Iago knew of his advantage. He knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there came to him certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. At such moments he allowed his body to be hurled hither and thither, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might thereby come to it. That did not count. The grip was the thing, and the grip he kept.

Leo ceased only when he had tired himself out.  He could do nothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, had this thing happened. The mages he had fought with did not fight that way. Iago had not fought this way. Before, it had been a spell and a blast and get away, a simple curse and a deflection and get away.  

He stood there, holding his scorched side, panting for breath, “What kind of magic is this?”

Iago, still controlling his spell, urged against him, trying to get entirely into his very being, “Like I said, this is true power! King Garon gave me some of his might! Isn’t it breathtaking ?!”

Leo resisted, and he could feel his enemy's magic shifting inside of his wound, slightly ebbing off and coming together again in mimicry of a chewing movement. Each shift brought the grip closer to his sore flesh and it seeped deeper inside of him. Iago’s method was to hold what he had, and when opportunity favoured to work in some more. Opportunity favoured when Leo remained quiet. When he struggled, Iago was content merely to hold on, to endure incoming strikes and to seldomly evade with economized, calculated motions.

The result was that Iago was slowly bleeding Leo out while strangling his very insides. The prince’s breath was drawn with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by.

It began to look as though the battle was over.  

Though, Leo was rash enough to resort to one last desperate attempt.

“I shall consume all the ill fortune which you are set to unleash! I shall chew up all the selfish scheming and ill intentions that men like you force upon men like me, and bury it in the stomach of this place!”

He took a step towards Iago. Then he began to laugh derisively and scornfully.

He spasmodically ripped and tore Iago open with his summoned tree’s.

Just as Iago evaded an attack, he used a spell to shift the gravity in the room, successfully toppling Iago.

Leo had managed to throw Iago over on his back, and he was determined to take advantage of this. Leo’s magical stamina was almost gone and the fight in turn had become brutish and uncivilized.

A vine struck Iago square in the face. But Iago, undeterred, brutally shot a blast at his enemy’s abdomen. Leo might well have been on his knees had he not quickly pivoted and got his body out of the way and at the right angles to Iago. He took a step back, barely keeping to his feet, but allowing for distance between them all the same; forcing another tree from the ground beneath Iago. The fiend would have been done for, had he not quickly rolled out of it’s reach and got back on his feet.

Iago smirked, “I’ve heard Elise has quite the potential for magic. What would you say if I were to take her on as my student? You’ve learned so much through me. So much. I’m sure I could teach her a lot.”

This produced the desired effect.  

Leo went wild with rage. He called up his reserves of strength, and regained proper footing. As he struggled with his tome, the vile magic of his foe ever dragging on his strength, his anger passed on into panic.

“No, I won’t allow it! You will not blackmail me into submission! Living with that fear, that intimidation. A boot on my neck. I won't live like that. I won't. I wouldn't then and I won't now!”

The basic life of him dominated him again, and his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to live.  His vision filled with red every time they exchanged blows.

Vines with thorns and pointy branches struck Iago over and over. And Leo was stumbling and falling and rising, still, at times, summoning whole trees that lifted his foe clear of the earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death with blurry vision.

Had not the first hit of that curse been so powerful! In spite of his armour, which had long since been torn open, the dark magic had nestled deep inside of him.

It had taken Iago a long time to seep it inward, so that the magic now settled tightly around his chest and buried itself deep within his lungs. At this point, Leo’s organs were just too messed up to function as they should.

When Iago saw Leo's eyes begin to glaze, he knew beyond doubt that the fight was won.

At last Leo fell, collapsed, toppled backwards; exhausted, dying.

Meanwhile, the abysmal brute in Iago had been rising into his brain and mastered the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best. He savagely kicked the mangled figure on the floor. There was a sharp hiss and a laboured intake of breath from Leo, but that was all.

All life likes power, and Iago was no exception. He enjoyed this. He delighted in it. He gloated over his victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung his foot and listened to Leo's muffled cries of pain and took advantage of his enemies helplessness.

Iago was just in the act of delivering another kick, when he stopped suddenly.

In the next moment, he was promptly at Leo’s side. One of his bony hands grabbed into Leo's fine, blonde hair and forced him up into a kneeling position.

He shifted his grip, got in closer, all the while mangling more and more of his wounded flesh with his curse, hurting Leo more severely than ever.  

A dark sneer crossed the face of the victor, while his other hand went over Leo’s body in a very possessive, but caressing motion.

There was no sympathetic notion between Iago's one gesture of fondness and his maiming dark magic. The one might console, but the other kept their terrible grip on Leo’s insides.

Leo responded with a tired scowl, unable to brush him off or even to move. He had practically ceased struggling. Now and again he resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little air, and that little grew less and less under the merciless seething magic that ever tightened. His hand clawed at his tight chest and he was uncomfortably aware of his increasing air hunger.

“Go to hell!”, Leo spit between short breaths.

Iagos smirk only grew wider, “Hell is empty, Lord Leo. And all the devils are here. You should have disposed of your fantasy and accepted me as master.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to say that you’ll do anything !”

Leo scoffed, “You think having me on the brink of death would make me that desperate? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Gods, do you even listen to yourself? That death rattle of yours. Disgusting! I could kill you so easily right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Father would never—”

“The king wouldn’t care,” said Iago, “You know it’s true. He would say that if you were too weak to defend yourself against me, you weren’t worth living anyways. ‘Natural selection’ he’d call it. Your father has no place for weak people who don’t follow him unquestioning and you have always asked too many questions.”

“But Xander. He would—”

“The crown prince would do as the king says,” Iago insisted, “He would never risk his station for something as petty and dishonorable as vengeance, because Nohr needs him . He is a slave to his duties. And his duty lies with Nohr above all else. His own desires and feelings... they are not important when Nohr is at stake. Oh yes, he would be furious and your death would break his heart. But I think, in time, he’d even resent you for it. For not confiding in him before all this happened... for allowing this to happen to yourself... And then he’d grow even colder and tougher, much to King Garons liking. And you know, since we are talking so freely about your siblings. I meant what I said about Elise. I’m sure your father would appreciate my honest concern for her education—”

“Then why don’t you just do it?” Leo cried out, “Kill me and spare me this talk.”

"Indeed. Why don’t I do it?” Iago said it as if it took him rather by surprise, “I must value you more than I thought.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leo spoke to him without cringing that made Iago value him.

‘Fool’, Leo chided himself. ‘You are not equipped to understand this man-you're not insane enough. Don't try to guess why he does what he does, or how he feels about you or anybody or anything. Study him so you can learn how he makes his plans, what he's likely to do, so that someday you can defeat him once again. But don't ever try to understand. If you can't even understand yourself, what hope do you have of comprehending somebody as deformed as him?’

“Alright,” Leo bellowed, “What is it you want?! Just tell me already!”

“Why don’t you ask me in a way that is more fitting to your position. You are on your knees after all.”

“I will not beg. Never will I stoop that low. Tell me what you want and we might find an agreement.”

Leo looked apprehensive, the fear of the consequences of this lost battle strong upon him.

“You are still the same snotty and disrespectful little boy, are you not? As if you were in a position in which you could refuse. Well, before you pass out on me, listen closely. These are my demands. You will once again become my student. You will address me as your master and pay me the proper due respect that comes along with that. You will accept the next retainer that is suggested by either the king or me without opposition. And last but not least, let me use my magic on you ,” Iago’s eyes lighted up at this, and he licked his thin lips with an eager tongue.

"You have no mercy," Leo said dryly, resigned and defeated.

"No," said Iago. "I have a lot of mercy. I just choose not to show any."

Yet, no matter what was done to Leo, he was still a tactician. As fatigued as he was, his mind could still do this dance. His enemy had the upper hand; so he had to bide time and maneuver.

Leo’s heart began to race, ‘It’s not too late to take revenge after I make it through this,’ he thought, ‘In order to take revenge in the future, I need to handle the present situation perfectly.’

Cold intellectuality and calculated compliance took hold of him and he remembered that he once read about a certain fish which has a very unusual method of attracting its prey.

That fish will lie at the bottom of the ocean where you can only find eternal darkness, almost inconceivable pressure and extreme cold. Where life is so forbidding as to have all but extinguished life.

There it will lie as if dead. Then its enemies will approach, and yet it will lie quite still. And then its enemies will take little bites of it, and yet it remains still. So Leo, too, would lie still. He’d allow Iago to approach. Let him take bites. But, in time, when Iago got close enough and Leo had overwhelming superiority, then… then he would strike.

“We have come to an agreement,” said Leo at last. “May you do to me what you must. Though, I have one condition.”

“What would that be, Leo? Please. Tell me,” Iago said mockingly, “I am your friend and teacher, after all.”

Leo grimaced, “As long as you have me, you will keep away from Elise.”

“Agreed,” Iago said without hesitation, his smile send a shiver down Leo’s spine, “I only need one of you. It is your royal blood that I wish to make use of and I’d much rather have a willing participant than an unwilling subject. If you do as I say, I will have no reason to break our little engagement. See it as an incentive to serve me well as I’m sure you will. Just like the good old times.”

Iago hovered over him, an inexplicable aura of menace surrounding him.

It was clear, Iago would now use his magic on Leo.

The man would use his abnormal powers to extract the knowledge and feelings which festered in the chasms of Leos subconscious. He would dig up fragments of some hideous memory elaborately blotted out and destroy the efforts of the subconscious mind to fill up perplexing blanks with pseudo-memories.

How he hated this. He hated to feel this small, this weak. To be so utterly at the man's mercy. He felt afraid.

But Leo had learned to objectivise his fears and shake clear of its emotional grip. He knew which spell Iago would use. That knowledge should have calmed him. However, at first, the result was almost exactly opposite. It disturbed him vastly to know exactly what Iago would be doing. At least as a child Leo had been guarded by a merciful ignorance.

The spell was of an anomalous color—a nameless pink-violet shade.

As it hit Leo, the curious phenomenon began to assail him—a vague, cloudy sort of vision swam before his eyes—glimpsing or day-dreaming seemingly without relevance to anything familiar. It was like whispered music lulled him into tranquil oblivion.

Leo could hear the blood rush in his ears. His soul shrank. A fever of utter terror befell him.

Leo saw a void; a dark, bottomless gulf teeming with nameless shapes and entities. Shadowy figures dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds and smoke and lightning—things of madness and delirium, as tenuous as a mist—and he knew quite well that that was Iago's magic inside of him. A captive mind filled with stalking horrors.

In that noisome depth, he knew, lurked utter destruction—a living hell even worse than death.

He felt certain, this wasn’t anything that a normal brain ought to be called upon to face.  This was the imagery of madness and he himself was forced close to it—he had been completely under the spell of its allurement more than once in his life—as it brooded in the remote recesses of his mind. This madness could give rise to strange imaginative vagaries. It could destroy great monarchs, dynasties... families.

Were those tormenting voids the offspring of stark, monstrous memories? Did they spring from his own brilliant mind? Was all of it Iago or only part of it?

Betrayal. Lust for revenge. Loneliness. What exactly would be needed to push him finally over the brink into that bottomless pit? He couldn’t tell.

Leo felt delirious and hysterical. Like his brain had been dipped in poison. To be under such a spell was fear-inducing, ominous and horrendously violating.

And what did Iago get out of it? Ecstasy and pleasure. Feelings and the innermost thoughts of someone else. Taking hold of a deep connection that would normally only be offered between mages who had developed a deep bond of trust.

But there was no bond of trust between them, nor had Leo ever been given anything resembling a choice. No, Iago just took and never once thought of giving anything in return, nor did he ever think that what he did was wrong.

He made this spell into a virtual experience for himself, unable to understand its true meaning. Like a man trying to guess the essence of emotions by observing those of another man, but unable to harbour any feelings of his own.

And Leo did what he had learned to do. His mind retreated and his emotions died down. Perhaps that was the reason why people perceived him as cold. Iago had molded him in the making and had trampled over his mind so often and so thoroughly that deep footprints would forever stay there.

Iago closed his eyes and raised his face, listening to the nightmarish sound of Leos ragged breath and drunk it in attentively. His hand shivered. Apparently he was deeply moved.

And suddenly Leo’s vision returned and he found himself on the same spot in Iago's office as before. After being acted upon like this, he always felt a curious relief, though in order to gain this relief he had to conquer his nausea.

Iago stepped back from Leo and casually leaned against his desk, while Leo remained where he was on his knees.

“You know,” Iago commented, “Nothing can top the emotions of a child. You have grown so much, Leo. It’s a real shame. It used to feel different.”

Leo knew that normally anger would flare up in his chest at such words, but he felt strangely detached.

“Why don’t you ask me now what I did with the potion?” he said tiredly, just wanting this game to end.

“Heh. You do look tired, Leo. You want this to be over, don’t you?” Iago said with concern in his voice, “But I don’t have to ask, I already know. It was a test, you see. I was hoping that you would cooperate willingly. I didn’t want to do this to you. You must believe me.”

But Leo didn’t believe him.

Iago snapped with his fingers and two healers entered. They hurriedly were by Leo's side as he looked far worse than Iago.

“No!”, Iago interrupted them and demanded. “Me first!”

The healers gave each other a puzzled look, “But he’s the prince?!”

Iago gave them a stern look.

With hesitation, they got up and did as commanded, fear forcing them into compliance. Only after they had finished fixing up Iago were they allowed to see to Leo’s wounds. Leo struggled to rise. He was trembling; cold perspiration beaded his brow. In the end, they had to help him into a chair and as they got full sight of the damage, drew in sharp breaths and once again gave Iago a quizzical look. Iago simply ignored the unspoken questions and observed them passively.

All of this transgressed in uneasy silence. Finally, they left. Leo and Iago were once again alone.

Iago, without another word sat down at his desk and began sifting through his papers and, much to Leo's annoyance, even started writing.

Leo cleared his throat.

“Ah yes,” Iago pretended as if he had forgotten who was still in his office, “You are dismissed of course! Go and take a rest. You don’t look so well.”

Leo got up. His numbness had ebbed off and his anger had returned. Dark thoughts were running through his mind.

‘You are a fool, Iago. Men ought either to be treated well or crushed, because they can avenge themselves of lighter injuries, of more serious ones they cannot; therefore the injury that is to be done to a man ought to be of such a kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge. It seems you have not considered this. My goals are set and so is your future demise. I will prevail and if it’s just to make you suffer like you have made me suffer. I will put an end to you. Not only for vengeance, but for prevention as well. And because I will make an example out of you, other monsters might be stopped before they have killed so often, and so many.’

He left still fuming, unspoken promises of revenge filling his soul.

Now this was not the end. It was not even the beginning of the end. But it was, perhaps, the end of the beginning.