Banon watched as the Pyathen disappeared back into the jungle. He was standing on the balcony of the new home that had been granted to him for completing the final trial and being named Kothai, his hands clasped around one another behind him. His abode was, as most were, built above the mat and in one of the many lesser trees dotting the area around the central mew tree which dominated the landscape.

  There was much to do and little time. The princess hadn’t suspected a thing, granting him his request as well as eating more than her fair share of the eagle’s uniquely scent-inducing meat.

  “I am curious, what was your plan if she said yes? And what is your plan now that she has not?” a soft voice asked from behind him.

  Banon looked back to see Iala coming out of the main room’s opening to join him. He waited until she reached his side to respond, both of them staring out towards the blue torch lights fading into the jungle. “If you feel slighted, I would not blame you,” he said.

  “Why would I be? Ours was no more a marriage of love than hers would be to you. If she had accepted, you would have gained far more from that arrangement than what you have now, so I understand it.”

  “Then what are you curious about?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You are son of the emperor, and a man of renown already. You hide nothing of your intentions to become emperor yourself one day, yet you need the elders' approval for that. Making any kind of amends with our enemy is already too much to ask, yet you had to ask for more. You must know the kind of hit to your reputation this will be. If she had accepted, perhaps the gain in influence would have been worth it, but now you are left with a few weapons we can hardly use, nor are enough to change the tide of the war, and what many people will see as a stain to your reputation. A stain that will likely never wash out of the minds of many, especially traditionalists like elder Tema. So why?”

  Banon side eyed her. “You infer a remarkable amount from so little.”

  “Do I? What am I wrong about then?”

  Banon smiled. “Nothing. You are remarkably right, actually. If I didn’t know any better, I might assume you a tactician instead of a healer.”

  “Only my mother is a healer. My father was Kothai.”

  Banon nodded without taking his eyes off the jungle. It was no small worry that he might spot the familiar silhouette of elder Tema–or even one of the village's many overzealous children, for that matter–slipping off in pursuit of some unsavory action towards the elves. “And I think he would be proud of your assessment. Everything you said is true.” The slightest trace of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “And it is also exactly the outcome I wanted.”

  “If that is true, you must have a plan that spans beyond what I know already. So, what is it?”

  “I have known you for one day besides in passing, and as you said, our marriage is one of circumstance more than love. So you will forgive me if I do not spill years worth of planning out just like that.”

  “You don’t believe me capable of helping–”

  “It is not that I do not believe you capable. You just demonstrated more guile to me in this conversation than in the entirety of the ceremony, though I don’t blame you; there were other priorities then. And yet,” Banon paused, “I still have to be cautious.”

  “Fair enough,” Iala conceded, taking Banon somewhat by surprise.

  Banon cleared his throat softly. “I suspect, though, that I will require your help sooner rather than later. Your interests are now mine, as mine are now yours. Give me time, for now, that is all I ask.”

  “The Ooura empire’s interests are mine, as they were my fathers. He died too early for them, though that is more the norm than ever these days. The way I see it, the rumors of your band of unconventional fighters defending that village, among other things, have sewn more hope towards those ends than anything else in our time. As long as that continues to be the case, as long as I see you fighting for the same thing my father did, you can trust me to be standing by your side and supporting you.”

  “Likewise,” Banon said, putting a tentative arm around her.

  “Just don’t take any more time keeping your secrets than you absolutely have to. I might not be able to join you on the field of battle, but my father knew the value of women understanding the machinations of battle from the outside, especially women meant for a life attached to a Kothai.”

  “Of that, you have already proved as much.”

  ***

  ‘As an act of rebellion towards my acceptance of your proposal of marriage, Princess Lithilyn has fled the palace, leaving behind only a note as a clue to her whereabouts now. Before you read any further, I caution you against taking any action on your own. While her absence is still a secret to all besides my inner circle, I, and my closest advisors, request that you coordinate any plans with us first.’

  ‘To the best of our knowledge based on the note she left and the notable absence of our greatest battlefield commander and a full company of soldiers, Lithilyn has gone to the Ooura in a naive search to parlay with them. I am aware that this news will be received poorly, and the timing even poorer.’

  ‘However, we both know you are already slated to gain more from this arrangement, so I feel it rightful to request your assistance in retrieving her. When you depart, I expect you capable enough to rally a force large enough to aid us in our issue, yet not so vast as to rouse undue suspicion. This message is to be destroyed on receival, as none besides you and I can know the true contents’

  ‘Signed - Queen Gwyn.’

  Prince Rollo set down the message and rubbed his eyes. He blinked until they were clear, and then took in the sprawling sunset-lit jungle beneath him. This high in the mountains, he felt closer to the clouds than not. There were four stone temples built up the ridge of this mountain, and his was yet the highest all but for the smallest temple of all at its peak, which had no permanent stewardship and was nothing but a site of pilgrimage for those elevated high enough in the priesthood to give to Demnus a part of their lifeblood. Even the tangle of colossal trees springing from the mat looked nothing but a lumpy series of discordant waves in a sea of living green. And yet, soon he would be leaving this view behind, and some day, when his promised ascended to her throne, it would be nothing but a memory.

  He glanced down at the note in his hand one more time before deciding he had read it for the last time. He folded it tightly, glanced over to the fire pit, and with a swift toss, it was smoke within moments.

  The current Donai queen was nothing if not demanding. And yet, even as he sat there mulling over her written words he knew she was right. Moments like this one where more muscle and moreover, more manpower was needed, were exactly the reason she had offered up the hand of her daughter and a place within their dynasty in the first place. The Donai were already in a precarious position, located in the epicenter of the Ooura conflict. The next in line to rule disappearing without a trace would do nothing but threaten to tip the balance of power for good.

  He sighed longingly, wriggling his toes in between the strong fingers of his masseuses. He knew he had to do his duties. Knew it was a necessary first step in proving his usefulness. More, the leverage that might come from being the one responsible for retrieving her was so much that it outweighed even the shred of personal dignity he might lose being called on for catch and retrieve like Gwyn’s personal flesh hound.

  “Enough,” Rollo commanded as he rose. “You have the rest of the day to yourselves.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Having excused himself, he sighed yet again for good measure, though it felt a tad theatric even to him. Humoring the queen of the Donai shouldn't arose as much suspicion as the queen seemed to worry about–she did seem more than a little paranoid based on past correspondences. He was expected to leave any day now for the marriage regardless. This only meant accelerating, and perhaps reinforcing his existing plans.

  ***

  Banon sat in a wicker chair hung from the ceiling by a series of unnecessarily complex interconnected coords. He plucked idly at one of the many branching bits of the webbing that held his wicker seat up. “Everything has to be a piece of art, as usual.”

  Lonka, sitting across the room in a similarly complex chair, chuckled. Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded an insult, but the reverence in Banon’s voice was all but dripping. They might not come from the same mother, but that didn’t mean Banon saw Tozi with any less respect that he did, especially when she happened to be both the finest craftswomen in the village and one of the few adults who had openly supported his more legally ambiguous efforts towards fighting back against the Pyathen in his years before becoming Kothai.

  Both reasons were what brought him here today in equal measure.

  “So,” Tozi said as she entered the room, holding up a Banon-sized suit of what appeared outwardly to be entirely seamless layers of overlapping arapaima scales–though Lonka knew, in this case, it was underneath the surface where the true art lay, even if its majesty would remain unseen and unknown by all but the wearer. “It’s not done done,” she said apologetically. “But on hearing you might need it sooner rather than later, I accelerated things somewhat. This morning alone I added three hundred and seventy more scales to the left leg portions. It is perfectly wearable, just a little more sparse for scales on the back and legs.”

  “I still think the old version with the sap-saturated moka leaf tips instead of actual scales was better looking,” Lonka complained. “Much quicker to make, too.”

  “It might have been prettier, but it was too focussed on the acid aspects of their weaponry,” Banon said. “This version, while keeping the moisture wicking design, offers a more generalized approach to protection. Though you might be right about the ease of making them. If we ever wanted an entire army, or even a dozen men in these, the moka design might just be what we use.” Banon stood, moving over to inspect it. “But that does not mean a truly versatile–and light–armor compared to the crude sections of mew bark used in the past is not worth trying for. You added the extra mobility in the shoulders I asked for?” Banon asked Tozi.

  “Especially worth trying for if it makes you stand out on the battlefield like a big obvious target. Though I'm sure that’s exactly what you want,” Lonka muttered as the two of them kept talking over him.

  “I did,” Tozi replied to Banon, ignoring her son’s muted protesting, “and I reworked the knee joints, and then realized I may as well rework the elbows, and then… well, you get the point. It may not be perfect yet, but each new iteration gets closer,” she said, taking visible effort to keep her ramblings under control.

  “You really think it’s going to be necessary to bring this for a simple handoff?” Lonka asked.

  “A trap is never off the table,” Banon replied as he inspected the armor more closely. “To be honest, I almost hope for it. The only way to know for sure if it works is to have someone wear it and let the stream of acid hit them. Water is just not the same. We still don’t even know if the scales can stand up to the acid, and the woven underlayer certainly cannot.”

  “Yeah… so I was wondering about that. You asked for all those weapons… and not one acid launcher?” Lonka asked.

  “They wouldn’t have accepted the deal. The ballista was already pushing it.”

  “Whatever you say,” Lonka said, shaking his head. “I think it's just as likely that you want this early version to have a partial failure while you are wearing it so that you get some big scar and and equally big story to add to your fame out of it.”

  “Are you doubting my craftsmanship?” Tozi asked, eyes suddenly locked on Lonka.

  “She’s got you there,” Banon said with a wide grin.

  Lonka opened his mouth and closed it several times before deciding to just bow out of the conversation entirely until this was over with.

  ***

  Lithilyn had many ranging expectations when it came to what might be waiting for her when she returned home. An all out, frenzied search was possible, but more likely her mother would have played things more cautiously than that, worried about optics rather than her own daughter's life.

  But what waited before her now, as they approached the treeline closest to the Donai spire was not something she had even considered. The Enka. Hundreds of them, travelling in the opposite direction they were.

  It didn’t take long to figure out why.

  “Greetings,” a human man near the front wearing a robe with an absurd amount of layers and different colors called as they got within range to hear one another. “I am prince–”

  “We know who you are,” Gylig called back. “The question is why are you out here?”

  “A bit curt, but to the point, I’ll give you that.” The colorful man smiled fondly, though their overwhelming numbers slowly closing in around the sides were nothing if not an unspoken threat. “Then it should be no mystery what has brought me out here.”

  “The princess asked for no support, least of all from the Enka. Let me guess, you are to retrieve us? The queen, wise as she is, can lose herself somewhat when matters of the family are most taut.” Gylig called back.

  “A practical thinking man! And here I thought elves were too busy drowning in their own formality to acknowledge the obvious.”

  “Enough of this,” Gylig said. “You have been sent to retrieve princess Lithilyn, and yet here she is, safe and well, and within an hour of returning home to her waiting mother. If you would be so kind as to–”

  “Pardon, sir, or whatever title it is. If you would be so kind as to let us escort you the rest of the way back, that would be just perfect. No need to feign hostilities. Our goals clearly align, and with our houses so close to becoming united, it would be a becoming show of what is soon to be if we were to be seen acting together as one. We won’t step on any toes, just let a few of mine bring up the rear while the bulk remain in front, since we are already here and all.”

  His men were already moving to do just that before Gylig had even opened his mouth to reply.

  “I mean no offense. However, just… in case there was any mistaking niceties for lack of precautions, know that I am well aware that the curious adventure you are now just returning from was not sanctioned by your queen.”

  Gylig’s eyes were darting from side to side, and Lithilyn could already see various plans forming, some of them involving violence.

  “Stop, Gylig. It’s fine. Let them have this,” Lithilyn said.

  Gylig frowned, working his mouth around like there was something sour in it.

  Something about it tasted sour to her too, yet it only took a moment’s thought to realize she had no real choice. Decline and they would follow along anyway. The only thing gained by denial was potentially tipping him off to her ill intentions towards their imminent union.

  Just as she was sure the chest puffing was over, the Enka prince broke the silence once more. Only this time, when she looked back he was already halfway to them, and striding with as cheerful a gait as if he was on the way to collect a prized quarry.

  Perhaps he was.

  “One more small request. My men will remain as nothing but a perimeter, but I would like to keep my proximity to the bride more personal. Willingness be there, of course. I know you all must be very tired from such a wild and foolhardy expedition. So I would hate to impose.”

  His lack of stopping and wide smile told nothing of the sort, but all the same, she saw no real harm in it. He stopped at the front rank of the Pyathen, giving them a challenging looking over.

  “Let him through,” Lithilyn called, and no sooner had the words left her lips than the wall of mail clad elves had parted, letting the prince through.

  He was given visible pause when he first laid eyes on her, but hid it well with a nod directed towards Gylig.

  “Oh so very good to finally meet you in person,” he said, looking up at her.

  For a human, he was tall, but no taller than the average elf. For an elf, Lithilyn’s own height was nothing short of a spectacle even among her own kind. Next to these humans? She was gaining just a little bit of a sense of how the Ooura might have felt around her kind.

  “And very good to meet you as well,” she replied evenly. “Since you are here already, I hope you will join us in the discussions I will need to be having with my mother about the results of my diplomatic mission. Much has changed, and the Ooura have extended a tentative agreement of peace. If better minds prevail, perhaps the Ooura threat could become nothing but a memory from a more warlike time when reason was scarce and swords kept sharper than they needed to be.”

  “I very much would,” he agreed, taking her hand in his and giving it a kiss with a delicateness disproportionate to his gaudy appearance. “And I am deeply, deeply curious what kind of opportunities may arise from such an agreement.” There was a twinkle in his eye present at that moment that she had only heard of second hand before now, but knew the moment she saw it for what it was.

  The glint of humanities greed.