“…You…want me to sit-in on your talk with the Duchess?” Prince Iresha was dumbstruck, “When did you even start talking to her again? What’s this all about?”

  “Just yesterday; it’s about our shared futures.” The Emperor went up the long curved stairs of the ballroom towards the upper level of the building, “Diplomacy is about waiting for opportunities.”

  “But the Duchess despises the entire concept of me.” The Younger noted, “She blames me for the Council being here, like I chose to become afflicted.”

  “She’s held it against me for a long time, too, so that’s why this talk is of immense importance.” The Elder explained, “But I only want you to be in the room – listening, observing, and learning – so you can be better-informed as my heir. Dealing with people who are vehemently disagreeable can be a challenge, but this will be a good real-world lesson.”

  “…When’s all this supposed to start?”

  “In a few minutes.”

  The Prince’s eyes widened, “…Did you arrange it like this? So I’d be back in time?”

  “It worked out that way, yes.”

  Iresha glanced back down the stairs and into the large atrium; he could see Seth coming – alone - through the doors, but the guards wouldn’t let him access the stairs. He turned back to his father, “Isn’t the Fourth going to be involved? Lugios is still outside.”

  “They’ve been involved through most of this, but the talk itself is just us.”

  “Oh…” He paused on the last step, and waved back down to Seth, “I’m getting pulled into a meeting. I don’t know how long it’ll take… Make yourself at home or something, and we can check out the city later.”

  “…Oh...okay…”

  Iresha rushed up the rest of the stairs to get out of sight quickly; leaving Seth there on his own felt awful. It was a small relief when he heard one of the attendants on the lower floor speaking words - to the effect of - showing Seth to the room that had been prepared. The march into the meeting-room was awkward and stiff, and it was clear that the whole space had been slightly rearranged to make it ready.

  “You can sit over there, son.” The Emperor commented, gesturing towards a few seats in the library nook, “You won’t be visible, but you’ll be able to see everything that I can.” He turned towards the lower diplomats and staffers who’d been there helping arrange everything, and the Emperor took his seat, “Okay, you can submit that we’re ready on this end.”

  The dark-haired teen took his spot quietly, and could practically feel the seconds tick by behind his eyes as he watched. The quiet was deafening, and the nervous looks on everyone’s faces as they waited for the call to begin were enough to make the Prince’s heart-rate rise.

  Closer to the windows, a proverbial stage had been set. A large, flat, circular disc had been placed on the floor, and the Emperor’s chair – along with a side-table – had been set on top of it. Two thin metallic poles rose up to nearly the ceiling, and bent inward slightly towards the top where they supported a ring above the center. The ring had a subtle glow to it, and from the right angle, a flat, cone-like plane of light could be seen emanating from it, shining down at an angle until it met the edge of the disc on the floor. Within it, the Emperor waited.

  Then, the indication came, and staffers redoubled their focus.

  A matching circular platform and cone of light was set across from the Emperor’s place, and the image of the Duchess herself faded into view. Like her Sargonian counterpart, she, too, sat in a large cozy chair…and with something of a knowing smile, she gave her greeting, and their fates were sealed.

  .

  Seth didn’t even have time to take his jacket off before he could hear yelling and banging from the far hallway. Servants and guards alike looked perplexed and astonished, but there went the Emperor - genuinely enraged - as he went down those stairs and burst his way outside, yelling for Gabriel. Seth held-back, halfway through his door, and looked to the guard set just outside, “…What happened?”

  “…I…have no idea, young Sir.”

  They could hear the younger Iresha giving chase, pleading to be heard, only for his voice to cut-out as he went outside as well. Seth peeled out of his room and pulled the tall door closed, and went down that long corridor until he could see over the railing to the large round ballroom. Both royals were beyond his sights by then, and he had no idea where they’d gone, “…What in the world…”

  Gabriel’s ears had perked-up like a startled horse’s when he heard his name being barked so suddenly, and he quickly made his way back towards the veranda. A number of Sargonian guards had turned-up by then as well – some to make sure he went the right away, others to make sure he didn’t turn back – until he was all-but chased up those stone stairs, “Your Majesty!?”

  “Well, it’s done; the Duke will be coming here tomorrow evening.” The Elder seethed.

  Gabriel was so confused, “That’s…good…? Why are you so angry?”

  The Emperor pointed at his son, arm shaking, though he still did his best to keep his voice down so no one other than their small group could hear, “Because this one – after being given explicit directions to just listen and observe – heard the Duchess ask for the one thing I would never agree to trade and decided to open his big, stupid mouth in agreement.”

  “It’s not stupid!” The Prince protested, out of breath from the chase, “This is a perfect opportunity to figure out everything we’ve never been able to know! Maybe I can even talk her down!”

  Gabriel could feel the ice-water thrown over him from the dread that crept through every inch of him, “…You’re…not serious. You didn’t.”

  “I can do this!”

  “Keep your voice down!” The Elder Iresha was livid, and yelled at the attendants who’d been stuck outside when he got there, “The Rydell boy needs to be sent somewhere else. No one is to speak of this, to anyone. If you heard anything, no, you didn’t. I’ll put this entire palace under house-arrest if I must!”

  “Dad!”

  The Emperor was a writhing cauldron of rage and fear and disbelief, and he stared at his son like he would suddenly burst into flames, “You don’t know what you’ve done… How could you?”

  “She said this was about sending the Duke here…nothing less than a royal would’ve been agreed to.” The Prince argued, “It makes perfect sense for me to go. This could be my chance to prove that the afflicted aren’t as monstrous as the Kitezans want to bel-”

  “This isn’t about the afflicted, Iresha!” The Elder argued desperately, “She’s a fanatic! She took one look at you, accused the Council of brainwashing you, and made the audacious declaration that she was personally going to brainwash you back! She’ll poison your thoughts and make you just like her!”

  “I’m not a wilting flower, dad!” The teen countered, “I’ve already made my mind up about everything that matters! No one needed to brainwash me…I saw what was true with my own eyes! I know what the Council is like because I’ve been to Agartha and I’ve met them all. If you don’t care about changing minds about the afflicted, then fine, I’ll focus on doing what Mardu couldn’t…preventing a damn war!”

  “She’s not going to listen to you, son!” The Emperor retorted, making those pale-gold eyes widen, “You’re nothing more than a child-hostage. All she has to do is lock you away in a room and then feed you a false narrative about what’s happening outside the palace… It would only take months, and you could be a completely different person! She doesn’t even have to convince you that what she says is true; she only needs to plant the seeds of doubt!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  To that point, Gabriel had stayed as quiet as the grave; the news hit like a brick, and he was struggling to process that it had been given to him at all. When the Prince tried to get his attention, he could only lift his head to shake it in disbelief, and he looked to the Emperor, “You can’t take it back, can you?”

  “No… She’s already preparing the Duke for transport.” The older man answered; his voice betrayed the fact that he was on the edge of tears, though no force on Hadira could make them fall from his eyes while in the sight of the Vice, “She will send him on a transport-skiff under personal guard. When that ship and ours meet on the border, the passengers will be confirmed by the crews and then continue on.”

  “The passengers won’t switch ships right then?” Gabriel wondered skeptically.

  “That was my first curiosity as well…but Oceanside is so much further from the border than Trazad is, she insists on it. The Duke is to stay aboard with a Kitezan entourage and pilot until Iresha arrives safely at the palace. To her thought process, both ships will dock at the same time, and then they will leave. If Sargon – or, worse still, the Council – does anything to try and board or dock the Duke’s transport early, or stop the Prince’s from leaving, she’ll have her pilots turn it around.”

  “…I see.” The Vice said quietly, “…What about Latheroux?”

  “Wasn’t mentioned.”

  “Right. Well…I could always take this situation to the Accord and see if they’re willing to approve a formal military response. We still have the blockade on the border; once the Duke arrives, we could shoot down whatever cursory escort she arranged, keep the Prince here, and take the Duke for ourselves.”

  “Wouldn’t that just be kidnapping?”

  “If the alliance says it’s worth it…” Gabriel shrugged his shoulders up and held them there for a moment, “The Duke may be seen as a relatively weak man, but he’s still one half of Kitez’ Gemini Duchy. It would be an easier sell to the Kitezan people to have him installed than any lacky of the Council’s, once we deal with the Duchess.”

  “…So, a coup then.”

  “It does feel like it’s coming to that, doesn’t it. There isn’t much else to be done, given the Prince himself agreed to go.”

  “You’re not even going to let me try?” Iresha protested.

  Gabriel stared at the teen stiffly, “Kid, unless you’re willing to the light the bitch on fire when you get there, I doubt there’s anything you can do.”

  “Lugios!” The Emperor protested, “You’ll not speak of her with such language.” He turned to his son, “And don’t you dare touch that woman.”

  “My apologies…” Gabriel bowed slightly, “The ball is in your court, Your Majesty. You wanted to do this on your own and I can only offer advice. How you choose to move forward is entirely your decision.”

  “That’s a damn way of saying this is my grave to jump into.” The older man said bitterly.

  “We’ll help you dig it if you ask us to but, yes, in the end it is yours.”

  “And you’ve nothing to suggest except open conflict. I thought you were the Vice Eidolon of the Fourth? Where did you desire to mediate go?”

  “It was kicked out of the room and taken hostage aboard a small skiff headed to Kitez, in the seat next to the Prince.”

  .

  Without nanotech, not only did the Fafnir have no communications, but they had no ancillary tools to use in the field either. Furion carefully made his way through the many treetops, using the relative quiet of flight to avoid being heard by those he was watching on the ground. They were hard to see in the dark of a 3am campfire-light, but he was sure he’d spotted at least one person with an affliction.

  Sitting on a log with a rifle across his shoulder, one of the men on night-watch had a clear oddness about his appearance. Though Limitless-tells were not guaranteed on the afflicted, when they did manifest, they were often extremely obvious; Gabriel’s red hair and eye were relatively minor compared to some. This particular afflicted figure had skin marked by scale-like projections, arising from the jaw, cheeks, around the eyes and brow, up over the forehead, and over the hairline until truncating in horn-like spines. Furion struggled to get a good look at the man, given the hat he’d worn to protect against that Alpine cold, but the shape of his head beneath it was unmistakable, and the Fafnir Captain eventually got near enough – and low enough to the ground – to get a proper angle on the face and confirmed it outright.

  Furion went back up into the branches and reunited with Ren, who’d waited about a quarter mile away at the top of a half-frozen waterfall. When he landed, he spoke matter-of-factly, “Target located.”

  “…I’m not going through with this.”

  He anticipated such a response, “Your orders are to flank the camp on the south side while I go north. The man we’re looking for is sitting on the eastern side of the main campfire. He’s carrying a weapon; I’ll go in first to get his attention while you go in to disarm and apprehend. We’ll rendezvous here and proceed with the extraction. Once Scyrexian has been transferred, I’ll complete the mission, and we’ll bring the new host back for secure holding.”

  Ren’s brow furrowed behind her visor, “Did you not hear me?”

  “It sounded like insubordination. I ignored it, because I know you don’t want to be Bianca’s neighbor.”

  Her heart was in her throat, but she stood her ground, “This isn’t an official mission; you can’t claim disobedience when I’m not refusing a sanctioned directive.”

  “Since you have aims to be Captain one day, you will be aware of the fact that the Fafnir Knights have the authority to launch missions without a specific mandate from Lord Rylen…because the prevailing mandate is to seek out and eliminate Limitless threats wherever they are found.”

  “And you just said he, not she.” Ren countered, “Meaning this isn’t the target on the approved list…and therefor, your orders are invalid.”

  “Then why did you wait?”

  She hesitated, but then felt every muscle in her body tense, “Because I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything. I’m not just going to leave you here to commit war-crimes.”

  “I’m trying to save you.”

  “…We’ve been on this chase for nearly two full days.” Ren argued, and took a step back from the cliff, “We haven’t eaten since we left friendly airspace. We haven’t slept either. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I don’t need saving.”

  Furion grit his teeth and let out an annoyed breath, but leaned forward to set a foot down on the edge of the rock drop-off. He unclipped the bag he’d carried there from the Aegis, and pulled out the tech he’d sought after; an S.D. Helmet, “Then you might as well put this on yourself, because you’re not going back home with that thing still inside you.”

  “…You wouldn’t dare.” Ren sneered, and took another step away, this time feeling herself stance-up a little.

  “Ren, I love you, but you’re not thinking rationally about this. I can’t let you back into active duty with the Fafnir when you’re harboring the parasite that wiped the team off the face of Hadira. I know I’ve seen it come to the surface once, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it twice. You are an existential threat to everyone around you, and to the Eidolon themselves. No matter how firmly you believe you’re in control, you know deep down that it could come out at any time. We simply don’t know enough about it to know what conditions have to be met for it to fully assume control.” Furion lectured, stepping closer with the helmet in his hand, “You’re leaning too heavily into the fact that it didn’t come out while you spent that day with Lugios. You think that means you’re in control, but you don’t know that! Ren, think about it! I’m begging you.”

  She refused to speak. Every muscle in her body coiled and tensed, feeling hot against her flight-suit. One more step closer…and everything became a blur. Gravity and inertia pulled and pushed from multiple sides before she stopped again. Three loud bangs and one vicious crack sounded, and she turned where she hovered over the crest of that falling water. The helmet lay smashed at Furion’s feet, and he himself had been brought to one knee; one of the wing-arms on his back flickered where the solid-light fissure had been damaged.

  Furion could hardly believe it, and he turned to spot the woman over his shoulder, “Ren…?”

  “I am perfectly in control.” She answered angrily, “The only times it’s managed to come to the surface have been when I’ve been on the edge of fainting…and both of those times were because I was having a panic attack. I don’t feel that now, and I won’t feel it when I go to Trazad to talk to Gabriel. …I am completely calm.”

  “You’ll be court martialed for this.” He said; his tone was worried concern, not threatening.

  “I can’t be court martialed for something I wasn’t around for.” Ren answered firmly, “No one knows we were ever out here. Our nanotech is turned off, and our archival recording mechanisms are disabled. If you want to try explaining that we invaded Kitez with the goal of seizing and extracting someone, then by all means…but I shouldn’t have to remind you what happened the last time a Fafnir Captain helped do that. If you whisper a word of this misguided side-quest to anyone, I’ll deny involvement.”

  Furion rose back up to his feet, “You’re making a huge mistake. If you care about Lugios half as much as you think you do, you wouldn’t put him at risk like this!”

  “Quit telling me what to do!” Ren snapped. She felt her whole body tighten all over again, but she released it and just clenched her fists at her sides, a pain in her throat growing, “…You know what? The harder you push me to keep away from him, the more I wonder if my problem isn’t the fact that I’m poly. Maybe you’re just jealously guarding against the realization that I found someone I like better.”

  “…You can’t mean that…”

  She swallowed the knot behind her voice-box, “…It's a long way back to civilization. You’ll have plenty of time to think of an explanation as to how your armor got banged-up. I hope it’s a good one.” She said with finality, and rose up into the cold night sky.

  “Ren…! REN…!” Furion called out, and tried to give chase, only to find that he couldn’t go faster than cruising-speed before his damaged wing-arm would overheat. A deep and abiding panic went through him, She’s completely surrendered to that thing’s influence… I’ll never get back to the World Cloud in time…! SHIT!!