“We cannot afford to make this a long journey,” Elenore informed Argrave as she slipped on some heavy gloves suited for travel. “Given the recent influx of spellcasters you brought, we have no excuses to languish within this fortress. Any wounds have been healed by magic, any supplies lost have been regained from the larder here, and we sit at the precipice of total consolidation of all the north. The officers and patricians beneath us are eager to move. They salivate like bears who happened across a beehive without bees.”

Argrave, Anneliese, Galamon, and Elenore stood atop the battlements of the fortress. There was a rather peculiar difference in what Argrave saw—he witnessed a lot more of his personal heraldry everywhere, the sun-and-snake. Before, it had been wielded as a force of necessity—the soldiers needed a banner. Now, in but a night, many wore it proudly. Argrave had mixed feelings about this.

“Is two days fine?” Argrave asked her, turning his head.

The princess paused, deliberating. “I… it will be difficult. And you have plenty of matters to settle today.”

“Do you really need me to settle anything? Seem to have done fine, and I liked my absence more than I care to admit,” Argrave looked about.

“Now that people have seen you, I can hardly provide the same excuses I have,” Elenore reminded him. “And… Durran told me he captured someone. Ruleo,” she said gravely. “Durran can tell you details, but… the man seems to have gained an inkling of Gerechtigkeit. Their expedition narrowly averted a disaster with undead created by the Order of the Rose. I think it best you decide his fate.”

Argrave took a deep breath and exhaled. “…let him wait,” he decided. “Keep him prisoner.”

Elenore narrowed her eyes. “So he can break out and cause us problems again? The man is nothing if not resourceful. Procrastinating with prisoners because of the headache-inducing moral quandaries generally leads to poor outcomes. Kill him, spare him… best to decide now.”

Argrave was unpersuaded and opened his mouth to disclose so.

“Your Majesty!” someone called out cheerily, and Argrave turned his head. Durran walked towards them, arms outstretched.

Argrave smirked and stepped to greet him. Galamon and Anneliese came along as well.

“Look at you, gray eyes once again,” the former tribal greeted him. “Anneliese… looking healthy. And Galamon…” he searched for the words.

“Looking mortal,” Argrave finished.

Durran narrowed his eyes, then widened them. “Well, is that right? I was a bit worried about getting these fingers of mine back… but I feel a little better about my chances, now. Show me your teeth, maybe?”

Galamon stared without movement.

Argrave gestured towards the encampment below. “We can do all the catching-up on the road. For now, there are a few things to put in order, and then we have to head out.” He looked to Anneliese. “One thing in particular deserves your attention.”

“We got you something,” Anneliese smiled at Durran.

“A souvenir?” Durran looked genuinely surprised.

“Come on. Let’s get ready to move,” Argrave beckoned with his hand as he set into motion.

#####

The affairs in the camp were not so many. Argrave got Svetlana and Ganbaatar settled in, coordinated things with the current army and the new arrival from Quadreign, and affirmed a few promises made by Elenore to skittish patricians or their subordinates. He also announced two days of rest for the soldiers, while diplomats were dispatched to those beyond the valley requesting surrender from all remaining lords. These diplomats brought prisoners with them—they were to spread the story of Argrave’s one-sided victory to any… undecided parties. The other prisoner—Ruleo—would remain under captivity. Melanie was assigned to guard him for their absence of two days, and all had ample confidence in her.

Durran finally got his gift—the great bear from Quadreign. He’d learned the proper druidic spell to bind its soul to his, and did so eagerly. The thing was giant, fierce, and imbued with power beyond even its formidable size. Anneliese told Argrave that Galamon was envious of Durran, bogglingly enough. Argrave was right—his old elven friend was a bear person.

A little before midday, they set out to Vysenn with a sizeable escort. Including two A-rank mages Anneliese deemed suitably loyal, Argrave was reunited with his royal guard.

“Sometime soon… I intend to test your progress,” Galamon spoke to the guard as they marched for the distant cinder cone.

The guards seemed chilled by this notion. Durran, riding atop his new bond, spoke in their defense. “They really held their own. Held out against hordes of the undead without losing a man, then still had the mental and physical wherewithal to charge into a fortified structure while towing along a prisoner.”

Galamon nodded, and then they continued their walk. Elenore rode with Durran, Argrave and Anneliese walked side-by-side, and the knight-commander guarded them diligently with the knights and A-rank spellcasters under his command. He resumed his position as though he’d never left it.

Argrave relaxed, for he roughly knew the plan heading into Vysenn—bluster, make demands, seek retribution. All the tribes would be on high alert, and none would be eager to defy Argrave or the one at his side.

“We finally have a moment to talk,” Argrave looked to Anneliese.

She looked a little more tired than normal, and the events of yesterday still showed on her. Then again, Argrave surely looked much the same. A battle like that didn’t fade from the memory in a day or two. Argrave wasn’t entirely sure the adrenaline was all gone.

“A moment seems insufficient,” she looked back at him, then minded the path ahead once again lest she fall. “I wish I had two mouths… and you four ears.”

“Without an extra brain for each, seems pointless,” he responded dryly.

A small smile weighed down by the lingering somberness of yesterday rose to her face. “It is well enough. Some things… I do not care to discuss them publicly,” she said. Argrave was about to ask what she meant, but she continued quickly, “[Life Cycle] is not as you remember it, Argrave. It is much more.”

Argrave raised a brow. “Meaning?”

“As you say, touching people, or ambient spells, does gift me their magic,” she nodded, pausing to step up a steep incline. “My spells, too, sap magic from the targets they hit. But it is more than that. My wards replenish my magic when struck by spells. In turn, what wards—indeed, any spells—I strike are similarly fractionally absorbed.”

He blinked, the various uses for that running into his head. “That’s—”

“Tremendously empowering,” Anneliese finished for him. “Llewellen said I would become the first among equals. I think he undersold it.” She raised her hand up, moving her fingers about. “I feel as though my natural magic regeneration has improved. On top of that…” she put her hand on his arm. “You radiate magic more than most.”

“If it’s you, I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet whenever you want,” he looked at her. “But you don’t sound happy to me.”

“Stormdancer, they called me,” Anneliese said, looking off to the landscape ahead. She paused and looked back, where a vast field had been covered with basalt particles and traces of battle by magic. Bodies lay crated in it everywhere. It looked like a pocket of hell placed on earth. “I want you to tell me of Gerechtigkeit again, please. I think I need… a reminder. Of why this is the right thing.”

Argrave watched the scene, same as her. “Certainly.” In his peripheries, he saw Durran and Elenore chatting. Their conversation looked somewhat lively.

“…a greater asset than I thought,” Durran told Elenore, the two of them riding on his bear. “I thought she was a waste of money. I told her as much. But… Melanie’s not so bad,” he admitted. “I kind of like the shameless greed. So long as she’s in the right position, I think she could be a big boon.”

Elenore’s face grew stern from her spot behind Durran. “Time and time again, you think I make bad judgements. Asking Vasilisa to protect us. Having Melanie accompany you. I picked both for a reason, and both have proven their capability.”

“When did I say you make bad judgements?” Durran looked back briefly. He looked somewhat miffed for a few seconds, then his face broke and he chuckled. “Oh. I know that face.”

“And I know when someone is going to make a snide comment,” she said with a sigh.

“You’re nervous,” Durran pinpointed. “The idea of getting your sight back has really rattled you, huh?”

At the unexpected accusation, Elenore’s poor mood was somewhat disarmed. She said nothing as they rode onwards for a little while.

“Should I feel as though I’m putting a bandage around a bad cut?” she said indignantly. “This deserves anxiety.”

“Who’s snide now?” Durran pointed out. “Listen…” he turned his body around until he faced her, letting the bear lead without his guidance. “Something I learned going with Argrave. You can ask him questions to help refine his ideas… but he’s usually right about things. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”

Elenore furrowed her brows, not fully content with that advice.

“And by the way…” Durran lowered his head. “I follow the same exact principle with you, more or less. I throw questions your way, help you refine your ideas… but generally, you’re always right.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, consoling.

Elenore did look a little better. Then, she squeaked and shifted forward rapidly, headbutting Durran in the chest in panic. The bear paused and tilted its head back. She reached into the back of her tunic, retrieving an ice cube that Durran had planted. She berated him, calling him childish as he laughed.

#####

Once they crossed a certain point into Vysenn, their leisurely approach could remain so for no longer. Argrave put everyone on alert, while Anneliese scouted ahead for the alabaster-skinned tribals making their home in the base of the volcano. As expected, all were on high alert, anticipating retaliation.

Rather than mindlessly rush into the hills and wait for an ambush to find them, Argrave allowed Anneliese to search out a secluded and small party unaffiliated with those they’d deal with yesterday. It was a trying task—Anneliese had to describe the tattoos, and from that Argrave had to extrapolate allegiance. He only remembered a few distinct markings, so it took quite a while to find proper candidates.

In the end, they did find a group that might help. And rather than be ambushed… they ambushed them, stealing upon them from a high vantage point. Argrave hung just before the top of the hill, Anneliese beside him. They exchanged a nod, and then stood to walk over the hill.

“Hello there,” Argrave greeted, causing an immediate reaction of fear among the five below. “I think it’s time for amends. And I think all of you are going to make that happen.”