When Val let herself into Dorius’ quarters, the discussion was already well underway without her. Sweating still from her morning jog, she was scrubbing her face with a towel as she entered, and was slightly shocked as she lowered it to see not only more faces than she expected, but also that the piles of books had grown.

  Elias and Dorius were both elbow deep, Elias scribbing furious notes as they spoke onto scraps of paper. Bryer, the bald Vigilant sat with them, and was even helping to search one of the books for whatever they referenced, eyes bright and eager as they listened with keen interest. Even Bastian, lying across Dorius’ bed without a care, had a book, although he was only loosely leafing through the pages, pausing to read the occasional paragraph.

  “And so you believe the Watcher withdrew favor from the Monarchy?” clarified Elias.

  Dorius shook his head, “It is a common misinterpretation to assume the Watcher has actual interest in the specifics of our affairs, there is not favor just as there is no malice. It is a better statement to say that the Monarchy no longer served whatever their purpose was, and the Weaver orchestrated events that lead to its collapse, or maybe they were just abandoned from whatever sustained them. I think we can take a guess that as the last true Monarch, the Dragoness’ bitterness might be in part due to the collapse.” Dorius was at least properly dressed today.

  Bryer looked deeply amused, a half smile on their face, but did not contribute to the discussion and instead picked up and offered Dorius a book. Dorius took it, checking the title and giving the Vigilant a curious look, then opened it to skim the chapters.

  Val ignored whatever debate they had going and settled against the wall on the floor near Bastian, who closed his own book as she came close.

  “How long have they been at it?” she asked as she crossed her legs.

  “Hmm, at least as long as I’ve been here. I returned shortly after dawn, I wanted to see what the Snake was up to through the gate…” replied Bastian, “What use is a bloody wall you can’t get on top of?” he grumbled.

  Val wasn’t surprised he’d been busy, “Any news?”

  Bastian rolled onto his back and looked at her upside down, “Camp is still there, Gail says he’s keeping a low profile but has not withdrawn. I was hoping to poke around what remains of the pilgrim camp a little but didn’t want to risk being spotted by his guard.”

  “No sign of your bow then?”

  Bastian’s dark expression was enough to answer the question, and he continued, “Anyway, I came back to debating the intentions of our modern sovereigns, and now we get to debate the intentions of dead ones and gods.”

  Val cautiously gave no response, and mopped the sweat off her forearms with her towel to keep herself busy.

  “What about you?” asked Bastian, his expression odd upside down as he watched her.

  “I went yesterday to speak with the bell players, they said they’d teach me something of magic last time I was here.”

  “Ho?”

  Val gave him an admonishing glare, “Their advice was limited. It seems my fire magic is not something they can help with.”

  “There’s different types?” asked Bastian casually. Val scratched at the base of one of her horns, thinking on her answer. She was hesitant to act as an authority on the matter, but was actively realizing the reality of her situation was that she was the expert in the room - unless Bryer had a yet undisclosed affinity for magic. The nature and scope of the ‘changes’ Vigilants claimed they underwent was still unclear to her.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Lee’to opening the door, a platter of ceramic tea cups, teapot and small plates of snacks for their study in her hands. Her face was downturned but neutral, Val braced to rise to her feet to help, then paused as Lee’to began the task of filling the teacups and placing them before Dorius, Elias and Bryer.

  “She stayed?” asked Val.

  Bastian raised an eyebrow, a curious look given he was still upside down, “You didn’t dismiss her, isn’t that what the drone said?”

  Val didn’t respond. Bastian righted himself as Lee’to bought him a teacup as well, accepting it with a short thanks. When she turned next to Val, Val found herself unsure how to meet her eye. Thankfully the Laon continued to act natural, giving Val the final cup and passed her no expression that Val would struggle to know how to process. The tea was dark and unsweetened, with a distinct smokey quality. Val sipped it and contemplated how to address her mixed feelings about Lee’to’s service, and how to potentially broach the subject of her consent or wants.

  Dorius' conversation had continued in earnest, ignorant of the world around them. “It sounds like it would be in our interest to directly trace the lineage between the Dragoness and the fourth Pentarchy, and even that of all families of the Pentarchy. She may not believe us unless we have firm facts, and it is likely our current understandings are inaccurate or embellished. We obviously have some gaps if we did not know of this relation without our own heritage.”

  Bryer casually picked at some of the snacks Lee’to had bought, “We have full documentation of births and deaths. It is hard work tracing between the volumes though - particularly when families move between Vigil Houses that were tracking the matter, acolytes can spend months on the task when a pilgrim asks such a question, depending on how far back they want to search.” Some of the seductive honey in their voice had lessened now they were more regularly interacting with their company, but it was still a beautiful voice.

  Elias rose, his knees cracking, “Best show me where to start then.”

  Bryer gathered up a few of the books they appeared to be done with under one arm, and gestured for Elias to go first as they both moved out the room, Lee’to behind to return the tray she had bought with her.

  Dorius leaned back from his study, skimming the notes Elias had been making with a thoughtful expression. Raising his voice to address Val and Bastian he asked, “You said the Snake was still here?”

  Bastian sat a little straighter, his own tea cupped in both hands, “Yes. Although I have not confirmed if the layout or number of his encampment remains the same. Mostly I’m relying on what Gail relayed to me, and what I could spy myself when the gate opened yesterday and this morning. He’s apparently been much more subdued, and kept to himself when the Company arrived to help move the Pilgrims. Likely he did not want to directly interfere in anything that looked like official action from the Fourth.”

  “Still waiting to get in then?” mused Dorius, “Do we have any information on what he or his brother came for?”

  Bastian shrugged, “The Vigilants likely know best, if the Carmine Snake interacted with them directly before breaking the seal?”

  Dorius put down his notes, “They are helpful on most matters except that.”

  “I was hoping to catch a few more casually, but they are elusive and I’m hesitant to be found going somewhere I might be unwanted, given we are their guests…” replied Bastian, “The acolytes are chatty enough, but they’re all young, mostly involved in the day to day of running the chapel.”

  “How do you tell them apart?” asked Val, they all had worn the deep purple robes as far as Val could tell.

  “Hmm, just can. Apart from their age, the acolytes aren’t… weird yet,” said Bastian.

  “Lee’to seems to know her way around the Chapel, you might get her opinion?” offered Dorius.

  Bastian tilted his head, “Do we have a new translator?”

  Val frowned, she had also not run into Ja’Kel, the drone that managed the Laons at the Chapel. She did not have any sense of what she should or could be doing in her interactions with the soldiers. She was still hesitant to ask too much of Lee’to while she still mourned.

  “How long do I have to keep looking around?” asked Bastian while he waited for Val to compose an answer.

  Dorius’ pause was more than enough for Bastian to catch the scent of something, and he sat forward and asked again, “How long till we meet this guide into the valley?”

  “The guide will meet us on the other side of the gate apparently,” replied Dorius.

  “Okay, but how long?" Dorius opened his mouth but barely started to speak before Bastian cut in again, “You are thinking of doing something rash? For fuck- didn’t you learn your lesson on the way here?”

  Dorius bristled, “I did learn my lesson. That is why this is the way it must be.”

  “What way?”

  “I plan to sneak into the valley tonight. We will find our own way to the guide,” admitted Dorius sheepishly.

  Bastian’s mouth hung agape as he processed the admission, “You’re kidding? Val?” As Bastian turned to Val, likely hoping to see equal incredulous shock on her face as his own, she turned her eyes from his. “You fucking knew?” he accused.

  Dorius raised his hands defensively, explanation spilling from his lips, “Sylus moves too quickly, we have no idea how he is getting his information. We cannot stay too long in one place…”

  Bastian remained fixed on Val, speaking over Dorius, “I told you not to let him do anything stupid. Did you object to this?” Val shrunk in her spot, as he continued not giving her a pause to respond and rising to his feet, “He’ll fucking get himself killed next. You’re just going to let your charge off into the wild like that?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “She’s coming with me,” said Dorius firmly.

  Bastian’s head snapped round to face Dorius, a red flush rising as his temper worked into full force, “Just the two of you?”

  Dorius straightened his shoulders to stand as well, leaning over his desk and meeting Bastian’s fury with his own stern command, “Yes. This is what I have decided.”

  Bastian spun and began pacing the room, “You’ve decided?!...” has gasped out as if his rage was choaking his words, his rapid forceful steps gathering steam, “I don’t even… You’re a fucking Prince, people will die for you! More people will die for you whether you like it or not!” Dorius visibly flinched, Bastian had been right on target and now he’d found the root he pressed onwards, digging in, “You want Val to be next?! You want to protect people? Have a realistic sense of what you can and cannot achieve here!”

  “I am realistic!” defended Dorius, “If Sylus and Synthias lead us to war, more will die uselessly that I can possibly sacrifice with my own bad decisions! We will be set back again, just like the Unrest.”

  “So what? Those people aren’t here!” the corner of Bastian’s eyes were wet, his fury shaking his voice.

  “So what?... I am their Prince.”

  Bastian was brought to an immediate stop. Dorius was trembling, his hands tucked inside his sleeves.

  Between a shuddering breath, Bastian hissed, “They don’t even want you.”

  “Get out!” Dorius swung his hand at the door, finger pointed.

  “No. Someone has to talk some sense into you.”

  “This is an order. Val and I will go into the mountain, and you will stay here to coordinate with the Company and attempt to work out how Sylus knows so much.”

  “I refuse.”

  “Then I will dismiss you from my service.”

  “You wouldn’t fucking dare!” snarled Bastian. He threw his cup of tea with one fist into the floor, the ceramic shattering across the stone and the remnants of the tea splattering. The silence after was deafening.

  “Get out before I do dare!”

  Bastian kicked a chair over, and marched out the door, slamming it behind him. Dorius collapsed, his head in his hands, fingers digging into his silver hair. Val was too stunned to move, and for several minutes they waited with heavy silence between them.

  “You’re coming still?” asked Dorius from within his hands.

  Val steadily rose, feeling surprisingly shaken. She bent down to pick up some of the larger pieces of the tea cup, flinching as one sharp edge cut the end of her finger. “Yes,” was the only word she choked out.

  “Fuck,” moaned Dorius, slumping deeper into his desk, “Can you talk to him? I can’t lose him.”

  Val blinked, nervous to confront Bastian’s fury and unsure what she could even say, as far as she could tell he was just as angry with her.

  “You'd be better apologizing…” She tried meekly.

  “I will. I will. I just… don’t let him leave…”

  Val piled the broken shards of the teacup on a desk, and left without word.

  Bastian was not in the guest hall, nor his room, although the door was open. Opening her awareness to the mountain’s gentle drone, she found the path he had carved through the harmonics, chaotic and turbulent, deepening her apprehension at the prospect of facing him. She followed it out into the town of High Haven.

  The natives only gave her odd curious glance as she worked her way down the main thoroughfare, used to Laons. She followed the trail down one side alley, and onwards to a clearing.

  There Bastian stood. He’d stripped his shirt and tied it around a tree trunk at a suitable distance, and already had several arrows through it. As she approached, his bare skin and sinewy muscle glistened with sweat, still flushed red, and he drew back his bow - arms strong and steady as he looked down the arrow's length. She waited for the arrow to loose before attempting to speak.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He sent you to do his dirty work?” accused Bastian, not looking at her as he retrieved another arrow from the quiver on his thigh.

  “He’s scared you’ll leave.”

  “Hah,” he barked, “What about you?”

  Val weighed her words carefully, the bite and cold fury in his tone giving her such pause she was worried there was nothing she could ever say to mend this.

  “I’m scared… you’ll never trust us again.”

  Bastian lowered his bow and looked at her, “Why should I? You obviously don’t want to include me in your plans.” There was hurt mixed in with his words now.

  Val struggled with her words, feeling them stumble out of her mouth thick and clumsy, “I don’t want it to be this way. It’s just complicated.”

  “You don’t have to make it complicated, just tell him no,” pleaded Bastian, “He’d change his mind if you said something.”

  Val looked at her finger, it still stung where the teacup had cut her. As she squeezed the tip, the wound broke open again and black blood gleamed. She was tempted to try and reassure him that she could keep Dorius safe, but knew even as she thought the words they were untrue, and Bastian would see right through it. In truth, the greatest feeling in her heart was still her guilt for Til’wane’s death, and the knowledge that she would never be able to tell Dorius no, she owed him too much.

  “Better me than another…” was her quiet admission.

  “Never,” said Bastian slowly, turning his attention back to his shooting, “And he is wrong for making you feel that way.”

  “I owe him too much.”

  “You owe him nothing for treating you with basic humanity. Just because others are unkind does not make his treatment of you without fault either. You are too wrapped up in him to see it clearly, and he’s too ignorant of it to give you a path free unless you take it!”

  “I’m not like you, I can’t…” Val stuttered to a stop, unable to find her confidence.

  “What will you do when the Laons ask you for more? Who will you choose? Or will you just avoid the choice by giving yourself to Dorius forever? What do we tell them when something happens to you?”

  Val dipped her head, afraid of these questions that she had not found the answer to herself.

  Onwards Bastian pressed, venting his frustrations, “What use am I to be if you don’t include me? Why should I stay? You’re both suicidal, and won’t listen to my advice, I might as well leave.”

  “Please don’t,” replied Val weakly.

  Bastian did not reply, notching his final arrow and looking down the length as he aimed. The bowstring gave a clean twang as the arrow freed and thumped into his target. Shaking out his shoulders, he marched to the tree to inspect his work, Val trailing behind still waiting for him to continue.

  Several of the arrows had dug deep into the tree trunk, and Bastian grunted with frustration as he wiggled them trying to free their heads.

  “Let me,” suggested Val, and Bastian grunted and dropped to the ground, sitting at the base of the tree spinning the arrows he had removed in his hands.

  Effortless in comparison, Val tugged the remaining arrows free and passed them down to him, then not really knowing what to do next, sat and waited.

  She was not eloquent like he was, able to express his emotions and thoughts so clearly. She never knew what she felt, it always seemed like five things mixed up at once, each fighting for precedence over the other. And so she could only give him the quiet company of her presence, let him know that his digs and challenges would not drive her away, and hope that her feelings got through.

  As usual, he spoke first, “What are you going to do?”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  Val was silent, thinking hard before she gave her answer, and settled on the truth that she had no answer he would want to hear so said, “Go with him, into the mountain. To see this god. Ideally keep us both alive.”

  “And then?”

  Val sighed, hanging her head and horns between her knees, “I don’t know. I’m trying.”

  “Hmm.” Bastian tapped one of the arrow heads against his palm as they drifted into silence again. “I think the better question for you to think on is if we will both leave him one day,” said Bastian darkly, tapping her knee with his arrow head to get her attention.

  Val lifted her head, cocking it to wait for him to explain.

  “If he continues down this path, to what end? Make a play, despite his gender, for the throne? Secede from the Pentarchy to make Southold a Free State? Either way, eventually you can only go so long avoiding the Laons, and my usefulness will be eclipsed,” he said bitterly. Rubbing his forehead with one hand he continued, “I don’t even know what I’d go back to at the Company. Negotiating contracts with merchants who have too much money for their own good?” he scoffed.

  “We can work it out,” suggested Val, although her tone betrayed her lack of confidence.

  Bastian turned on her a bittersweet smile, the corners of his golden eyes gentle. Her heart jumped a beat, she did not deserve the attention of this man. What he could see in her, to give her the care he did, was beyond her to understand. In the dappled shade of the tree, one hand rose and cupped her chin, and his face followed, rising and weaving between her horns to place a chaste kiss on her mouth. His lips were soft, his hand warm, and the stubble of his upper lip was distractingly rough in the brief moment it rubbed against her own.

  He did not linger, although his thumb rubbed the edge of her horn as he lowered himself and she leaned into him to follow. With a grunt he disengaged, and rocked forward to get to his feet, brushing off the back of his pants as he rose. It was over so fast Val had only time to tense in shock and no moment of her own to give him a reaction.

  A little sheepish, Val did not rise to follow him and asked, “Are you going back?”

  Bastian laughed shortly, “No, fuck that guy. He can think I’m gone for good for a little longer. I haven’t decided if I’ll see you off yet either.” He began to slip his arrows back into his quiver and pulled his ruined shirt down from the tree.

  He offered a hand to Val, and she wasn’t so shy she couldn’t take it, although he had to lean back hard against her weight to actually be much use to her as she rose.

  “I’ll talk Gail into finding me a space somewhere, they have plenty of rooms for travelers, and at least I can pay coin,” he finished.

  “Elias will panic, can you seek him out?” asked Val, hesitant to request a favor. It was unclear to her if Bastian even intended to do the work Dorius had requested of him in their absence.

  “Maybe. Dorius wants to make stupid choices, he can handle his own consequences.”

  Val gave a half frown, “It is part of our job… to handle those consequences for him?”

  “I said I wasn’t leaving, not that I didn’t quit,” grumbled Bastian, but most of his raw fury had dissipated. Still, Val was not quite certain if she would see him that night, or ever again. In some ways, the kiss might have been a goodbye.