Damn it. What would Fredrick do?

 

Breale’s hand instinctively went to where her longsword would be sheathed on her back, only to grasp empty air.

 

“Get it done after we’re done here.” Lord Agos commanded someone else. “Once they dig it up at the site, have them take it straight to the capital.”

 

Would Fredrick confront him? Slither back and wait for him to leave? Eavesdrop and then hide?

 

What leads to the most perfect outcome? Breale thought bitterly. That’s the one he’d choose.

 

Breale curled her fingers around the short sword at her side. Fredrick wasn’t here to lead. Right now, it was all up to her, up to her to do better than Fredrick would. Or, at least equal to him.

 

Breale would rush in and arrest him, fix whatever was happening here, and lead Fangpeak’s soldiers back to Minua in glory. She thought. Combining skill in arms and diplomacy as the swordmaiden of Cice. She would use this as a chance to redeem herself.

 

Drawing the sword as quietly as she could, Breale glanced at the others and found determined expressions and anticipating eyes. Taking that as confirmation, she whirled around the corner with a confident step and a flash of steel. 

 

The room was larger than she’d thought it’d be, and was clearly the personal room of the castle’s owner. Old green banners hung from the stone walls, and the roof was held up by thick diagonal beams  a distance of three people above the floor. Frayed carpets of green with intricate gold embroidery decorated the floor, all warmed by a large fireplace on the outside wall. At the far end was a huge langier-fur bed with stout posts made of solid broadwood, a fitting bed for the Hunter Duke of the Fangwood. Serving as a centrepiece above the headboard was a wide painting of three armies meeting in a deep valley, probably detailing the meeting of the three kingdoms before the battle with the Gryphon.

 

And below that painting, the Duke Cantres of Fangpeak rested. He looked ill, his brow wrinkled and his face pale like that of a ghost. His hair was wispy and grey, and the arms that had once been rumoured to crush whole waterfruit were now but frail twigs folded over his chest. It seemed to Breale that the old rumours of the immortal hunter had found some truth in the reclusive lord she saw now, and that age had finally come with its reckoning.

 

Around the bed watching the duke was the visitor Breale had heard, accompanied by a surprising ten other guards. Lord Agos was much the same as he had been when Breale had seen him last in the senate chambers voting with the others against Endril. His bushy black eyebrows and trimmed beard, once respectable in Breale’s eyes, now cast long shadows across his face, and his eyes locked onto Breale as she entered. They looked tired, unnaturally so, as if the lies and schemes he so obviously weaved had come to pull on them by the hundreds and thousands in their envy.

 

Breale stopped a couple metres in, and her soldiers filled in around her. Seeing now how many Lord Agos had, she suddenly felt the sides slightly imbalanced.

 

Not that this many should be any large threat to a true Maverick, though. Certainly Fredrick would be able to handle this many, right?

 

Somehow, Lord Agos didn’t look the least bit surprised at their entrance, and Breale immediately suspected a trap.

 

“Princess Breale faln Maverick of Cice.” Lord Agos said. “Indeed, it is quite the shock to see you of all people here in the forest valley.”

 

She motioned for one of the soldiers to watch the hall before addressing him.

 

“Lord Agos of…”

 

Breale sifted through her memories, only to find that she didn’t actually know exactly where he was from, only the general region.

 

“Ostip.” Breale finished quickly. “Is it correct to assume that you’re here to assassinate the good Duke as well? Or was that merely a three time sort of thing?”

 

As far as she knew, the man in front of her was responsible for almost the entirety of the trouble engulfing Verol thus far. The demons in the cities, the recent killings, and even the civil war breaking out between the capital and the north and eastern duchies was his fault. 

 

The only problem was, Breale had no idea why.

 

“You think too poorly of me.” Lord Agos sighed. “This is understandable, given the flawed picture you’ve been painted, but entirely unjust as the Star would tell it.”

 

“And how else could this even be taken? I have seen the city outside and the Duke right there, you can’t tell me that you haven’t thrown some sort of magic over it all.”

 

Breale tried to sound as calm and noble as she could, trying to sound as Fredrick might in a situation like this. As a Maverick should.

 

“Poor Duke Cantres is simply ill. Of the intrigue and politics, and the decline of it all.” 

 

Lord Agos gazed at Lord Cantres for a while, forlorn. Then, he gestured to the window behind him, where the cooking smoke of the city curled up into the clouds.

 

“The poor city… Some demon from the east has planted its stake into the heart of Fangpeak. Me and a unit of the capital’s retinue have come at the Duke’s own request in order to search the forest and eradicate it. This whole business shall be behind us in short order.”

 

Breale grew nervous at the mention at the retinue. That was the core of the king’s military, the small section of the army that was kept raised and trained full time, and Breale had seen first hand how expensively they were equipped and the calibre of their training back in the capital. In fact, to see just that had been part of the reason why they were even in the capital at all. So to suddenly hear that some of them were in Fangpeak, well, it went some way to explain to Breale why Lord Agos might not be too afraid or surprised at her entrance.

 

The demon business, however, was obviously a hoax, or a cover for the reality that Lord Agos himself ordered it summoned. It was much more likely that Agos wanted Fangpeak weakened and indebted to the capital rather than a pure coincidence.

 

But to subdue an entire city? Can a demon like that even exist? Much less be controlled by a man. Could it not be some other method? A disease, maybe? But then why would Lord Agos risk coming over himself?

 

“It is customary to clean what you break, I assume.” Breale said.

 

Lord Agos looked stricken, as if that genuinely offended him. Even his guards glared at Breale.

 

“You challenge me as a demon summoner? Really? And barging in with weapons drawn as well. Do you seek to make us enemies?”

 

Breale lowered her sword a little in confusion.

 

“…Are we not already enemies? You’ve attempted to assassinate me at least once already, I mean, and-”

 

“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” Lord Agos interrupted. “I have never issued an order against you. Nor has the senate. Your brother, of course, was mentioned as an accomplice to the Traitor Prince, but never yourself.”

 

Breale’s eyes narrowed.

 

“My brother, aye?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Lord Agos stood up and walked a bit closer, seemingly oblivious to the sudden pillar of wrath that rose up in Breale.

 

He stopped a mere two metres away, close enough to hit with a lunge. Then, he spoke in a low voice only loud enough for Breale to hear.

 

“I have heard you have had some conflict with your brother.”

 

Breale almost dropped her sword in surprise.

 

“What? How did you… I mean, where does this lie come from?”

 

He simply shrugged.

 

“I am known as the Counsellor to some, such things are obvious to me. Apparent, as well, is your position in your clan.”

 

My… clan? Does he mean my family? Has he been spying on us?

 

“As the daughter?” Breale asked.

 

“As the second heir.” Lord Agos corrected. “I understand the friction that creates all too well. And, of course, the only cure.”

 

Breale stared at him for a second before she understood, and her sword grip tightened.

 

“You think I seek Cice?” She asked. “That the county is the source of our rivalry?”

 

He nodded.

 

Breale could certainly understand why he’d think that. The same story happened time and time again, ever since the old succession laws were changed under the last emperor. In the old days, Breale knew that such disputes were avoided by cleanly separating the land between children, or the male children, in most realms.

 

Much of modern Verol, however, now designated inheritance as the right of the eldest in general. There were some exceptions, of course. Minua and Trenland prohibited daughters from inheritance, and the Duchy of Verol distributed the majority of its lands on lifetime leases, but generally it was the eldest. 

 

And this was true of Cice as well.

 

Breale had dreamed of being the Countess of Cice many a time. The desire had been a constant companion in her dealings with her mother, a needling hope that she could be freed from the comparisons and pity that plagued her every waking moment in the streets of her homeland. 

 

And neither, though she would never admit it, could she say she’d never wished Fredrick dead for that desire. That the cause of all her irritation and envy would suddenly disappear. Never for long, of course, and never when he hadn’t irritated her, but that shameful thought had crossed her mind.

 

“The Warrior Countess of Cice. Defender of the Arguin.” Lord Agos sighed. “Much different from the lord your brother aspires to be.”

 

“…”

 

“You’ve heard the rumours from the east, haven’t you?” He asked gently. “That the Ancient Enemy even now assaults the gates of Erithine and Cinion? Doesn’t it make sense that the Arguin should stand with spears firmly planted? That it should fight against beast, not man?”

 

Breale knew that he was exaggerating. While such rumours had indeed come steadily across the ice over the winter, she was fairly sure such an unbelievable event as the investment of one of the fortress-cities would generate more than mere rumour. Nor was the east devoid of men to fight, either, so a fight against the Gryphon no less be against man than a war against each other. It was common knowledge that the kingdoms under the Gryphon had not completely disappeared, despite their sins.

 

She also knew that what he was offering would be a very tempting thing to a more callous person. If Fredrick were to step out the way, she could finally attain the dream she’d held since she had first looked down at the training yard.

 

Breale considered it for longer than she would’ve liked to admit.

 

Finally, she shook her head and stepped away from him.

 

Lord Agos shrugged.

 

“It may come about by accident anyway.” He warned. “There is no reason to speed it along.”

 

“I should hope it’ll never.” Breale said loudly.

 

Inside, she wasn’t so sure she agreed with herself.

 

She raised her sword towards him to hide her doubts.

 

“Will you surrender, Lord Agos? Or must we do this the violent way?”

 

I really hope he chooses the violent way. Breale thought. I like the violent way so much more.

 

Lord Agos raised an eyebrow.

 

“You still want to assault us? Even when we are both guests of a neutral lord? Doesn’t that seem… dishonourable to you?”

 

Breale rolled her eyes.

 

“Is it not obvious? We’re here an an envoy of Minua, and-“

 

Lord Agos looked at her in complete shock.

 

“Minua? You two Cicelings have signed on with the Traitor prince, then?”

 

…What? Wasn’t it obvious that Fredrick and I were helping? What did you even think we were doing when we fled the capital? I could’ve sworn he knew this.

 

Breale looked at Hanos, who looked just as confused as she felt.

 

“Yes? I mean, of course, my brother and I are here as official envoys of Endril. But that was kind of-“

 

“So Esiland was right to suspect Summark.” Lord Agos interrupted. 

 

Breale briefly wondered if she had imagined the intelligence she had ascribed to him before. When had she said all of Summark had joined? Or even Cice? 

 

“Ah, I think you’re mistaken, but I don’t stand for Summarkan or Cice in this matter, only for Minua.” Breale explained.

 

Lord Agos waved that away, as if what she said were obvious.

 

“Then what can Minua say about the recent demon attacks? The damage has been quite extreme.”

 

Extreme? So he doesn’t even know that we defeated it?

 

Breale blinked at the sudden topic change.

 

“…I’m sorry? I don’t think the attack in Minua killed more than a few dozen. Saphry smiting it was somewhat of a miracle.”

 

Lord Cantres seemed to stir at her answer.

 

Breale hoped that would sour Agos’s spirits. Certainly she thought news of Saphry’s sudden strength might. 

 

Unfortunately, she was sorely mistaken. Instead, Duke Cantres pushed himself into a sitting position once she had finished.

 

“How dare you.” He whispered. “You demons!”

 

Breale and her guards looked at the Duke in surprise, but he wasn’t done.

 

“The other duchies burn, and that’s the best excuse you have? That the Star saved you from yours? You bastards.”

 

Hanos looked between Breale and the Duke.

 

“My lord, what are you-“

 

“Silence.” Lord Agos commanded. “This talk is above a soldier.” 

 

“Then let me finish for him.” Breale said. “What in the pitching hell are you talking about, Lord Cantres? What happened to the other duchies?”

 

Despite everything, Duke Cantres seemed momentarily shocked at the curse that slipped into there, but Lord Agos picked up for him.

 

“Every ducal capital with the exception of Fanula and Summark was attacked by some manner of demon starting some weeks ago.” Lord Agos spat. “In Ostip, the entire river district was burned. In Trenland an entire quarter was stricken mad, including its Duke and his entire line. The main aqueduct was shattered over the knee of the senatorial district in the capital, and the cistern turned choleric. And here in Fangpeak, half of the duchy lies lethargic, almost unable to work.”

 

Breale opened her mouth and closed it, unable to say anything. 

 

This happened all over the country? What is happening? Why would Lord Agos do that?

 

“You might note that all of those places sound familiar.” Lord Agos growled. “For all of them targeted some enemy of Endril.”

 

Ah, that’s why.

 

“Non-nonsense!” Breale cried. “Minua was hit by a flaming wyrm as well!”

 

“And lost merely a score of peasantry, didn’t it?” Lord Agos asked. “Do to what you call a divine miracle? Does that same god not watch over all of Verol? Or not? What drivel. Ours is the Era of Ending. The Star has long since faded from Elys.”

 

Breale and the Minuans reeled from the sudden blasphemy, but Lord Agos’s soldiers merely cursed painfully. Even Duke Cantres simply closed his eyes, as if he were rehearing a painful truth.

 

“You… you… what?” Breale sputtered. “How can you say that? Why do you think Verol still stands? That we haven’t sunk into the lowlands?”

 

“We have accomplished that despite the Star, not because of it.” Lord Agos looked truly pained, and it was so real Breale couldn’t actually tell if it were fake or not. “But I won’t let you change the subject! Confess it! Endril has aligned himself with the abyss and the Gryphon, and he has tasked himself with the destruction of Verol. This first attack, this paltry civil war is but a mere distraction so that Summark might fall to its corrupted counts and let in the armies of the Deep. Your own involvement belays how close they are to achieving that very thing.”

 

Breale couldn’t hardly believe the insane accusations she heard, but she saw Duke Cantres nodding tiredly along.

 

“You believe this?” She asked. “He’s insane! Absolutely insane! Summark is still fighting the eastern kingdoms as we speak! Nor has it declared support for Endril!”

 

“Then why was its Princess in Minua then?” Lord Agos pressed. “Or fighting with her fleets on the Arguin? And why, oh why, are the Prince and Princess of Cice in Endril’s diplomatic corp?”

 

I…

 

“That…that fleet wasn’t Summark’s.” She said weakly. “It was a mercenary Endril hired.”

 

“I’ve heard the tales.” Duke Cantres said dismissively. “Minua’s navy is said to rival Summark’s own. Even if the Markee himself does not desire the death of Verol, I fear over his subject’s wishes.”

 

“Summarkan barons and counts are organising for the Demon Prince.” Lord Agos said quickly. “Cice and Osilif and many others besides. Do you not see Cice’s own daughter before you?”

 

How could it turn out this way?

 

“Indeed.” Duke Cantres whispered. “You are right.”

 

What is happening? How did I bungle this already? 

 

“But…” She faltered.

 

Why couldn’t Fredrick be here instead? Why did it have to be the worst twin?

 

She felt tears come to her eyes in her panic, and she turned her head away to hide them.

 

Hanos stepped up to Breale’s side, furious.

 

“Nonsense and heresy!” He shouted. “I don't quite know what all this you speak of is about, but it’s nonsense!”

 

Demetri stepped up to her other side, obscuring her from view. 

 

“Right of it! Half you damn nobles are all scheming bastards! How could you blame any of those right awful things on Miss Bre?”

 

I’m being defended by peasants. Is that really how far I’ve fallen?

 

Lord Agos barely seemed to recognize them.

 

“How burgune. Have you forgotten your station, soldier?”

 

Hanos levelled his spear at Lord Agos’s head.

 

“I know perfectly well what I’m good at, sir.”

 

Both sides of the room bristled with glowing spears and sudden shields, and Breale instinct led her hand for the sword on her back.

 

Only to grab nothing.

 

I’ve left it behind.

 

Breale felt her knees turn to jelly, and it took all of her will to not collapse. 

 

Shakily, Breale raised her shortsword instead.

 

“I should warn you: that this won’t go well for you.” Lord Agos drew a long dagger from his side. “We will not allow you to assassinate yet another noble house.”

 

“It’s the Coelric’s all over again…” Duke Cantres whispered. “Regrettable treasons.”

 

Breale’s memories bristled at the name.

 

Coelric? Where had she heard that name before? It certainly echoed someone familiar, but it wasn’t an incredibly important family either.

 

Suddenly there was a commotion in the hallway, and everyone turned to see what was happening. Even Breale and Lord Agos lowered their weapons at the disruption.

 

A second later the door burst open, and Luis and Heril ran inside with the guard Breale had left in the hall. Silst came flying in as well, his wing beats expressive of a fury Breale didn’t want to test.

 

The new party seemed somewhat shocked at how far the situation had deteriorated already, with Silst in particular looking about the room with a certain kind of draconic loathing. More catching, however, was the flare of recognition in Luis’s eyes as they landed on the Duke Cantres.

 

“Uncle Cantres. You seem well.” Luis frowned. “Or, I suppose that’s a lie. You look positively awful.”

 

…Uncle?

 

Duke Cantres stared at Luis as if he were looking at a spirit reborn, even dropping the hatred he had worn in his eyes up until a few seconds ago.

 

“Luis?” He whispered. “You’re still alive?”

 

Luis nodded, a shadow coming over his eyes. Breale felt herself shudder at the sight, as if she were looking upon something more terrible than she understood.

 

“Was it ever in doubt? I was given only the one thing as my inheritance.” Luis said. “Now would you please order everyone to stand down here? It’s hard to talk when everyone has their blades out.”