Chapter 288: Reignition

Argrave returned with a much smaller entourage than what he’d left with, and he was glad to have it that way. Elenore waited outside Relize with a similarly small escort, and when he looked upon her, he could tell she did not bear happy news. They joined somberly, and Elenore caught him up to speed as they walked through the city.

“Traugott was looking for me?” Argrave repeated, turning to Elenore as they walked through the streets of Relize. They headed for Leopold’s mansion, escorted by his royal guards.

“I’m worried for your safety,” Elenore said. “A man like that is as easy to predict as a grasshopper—namely, not at all.”

“We should first tell Castro that his choice of aid wasn’t exactly stellar,” Argrave said.

“Already done, though I put more politely than that,” Elenore confirmed. “Even still, Durran has been eyeing the shadows like they’re diseased, and I am similarly paranoid.”

“Relax. With vigilance, we can be prepared for anything might try. Traugott’s shadow is only a link to the Shadowlands, another realm beyond this one,” Argrave said evenly. “Beings far greater than you or I roam in that senseless abyss. He can travel short distances, maybe transport the odd object. It’s too much of a risk for him to do much more. His shadow itself has the same offensive capability as a blanket; resist, and you can get out fine.”

Elenore nodded, somewhat comforted by that.

“Anything happen while I was absent? Papers to sign, troubles to solve?” Argrave pressed somewhat hopefully.

Elenore thought for only half a second before responding, “No. Some matters did arise, but I handled them in short order. We can talk details later, but for now… we should talk about safety measures.”

“You seem to have run this place well,” Argrave noted. “That shouldn’t surprise me. All along, you’ve been the engine and the oil for this machine.”

“What do you mean?” Elenore looked to him, perplexed.

“I told you long ago that I wanted you so that you could be regent in my place while I handled other matters,” Argrave told her. “You remember, right?”

“Argrave?” Anneliese asked worriedly, recalling their conversation.

“You want to go into hiding?” Elenore guessed. “I… can certainly run things in your absence, but…”

Elenore paused, hesitant to mention that she’d facilitated his arrival.

“Hiding? Far from it.” Argrave smiled. “I think that’s been my issue, why I’ve felt in such a rut about this upcoming war. I lost a bit of my proactivity. I’m just waiting for reports from you, acting accordingly,” Argrave looked at Elenore. “Not like I’m ungrateful, but…”

“Walking around with an escort… leading armies… it’s unwieldy,” Argrave said, looking around at all around him. He conjured a ward to hide their conversation, then bunched everyone together. “All these resources are weighing me down.”

“Argrave, you’re not suggesting…” Elenore stepped back to him.

“What if I am suggesting? You said yourself that Traugott was very curious where I am. If I stay here, if he knows that I’m here… if I can say one thing about that man, it’s that he endeavors to learn things that fascinate him.” He rubbed his hands together as he gained momentum. “We have a problem with our spellcasters. So far, all I’ve done is wait around for old man Castro to send some support… when I’m forgetting how I got here in the first place.” Argrave looked at Elenore. “Has Magister Vasilisa left yet?”

“No, she hasn’t. As far as I know, she leaves by ship soon,” Elenore shook her head, then got closer to him and asked with urgency, “Will you tell me what’s going through your head?”

Argrave looked to her. “You said you always had trouble predicting what I’d do. I’d say that worked to my advantage a lot of the time.” He took a deep breath. “I think it’s long overdue for me to take a personal hand in the north. So, I’m going to see Vasilisa. She’s almost definitely returning to Quadreign.”

“What?” Elenore’s brows rose in shock. “Argrave, we—”

“We need spellcasters on our side. It’s our biggest weakness, currently. Our army can stand up to our enemies, I’m sure of it. Once we have sufficient magic, it’s all but a straight shot to claiming the fortresses of central Vasquer, and then heading to Dirracha. Why should I rely on whoever Castro sends to earn support? Have I forgotten how I got here? On top of that, Galamon tells me the man with the glass eye is in the north right now.” Argrave gestured to the knight-commander.

Galamon gave a hesitant nod of confirmation.

Anneliese touched Argrave’s shoulder. “We should discuss this more, I think.”

Elenore nodded in agreement, but Argrave continued, saying, “Sure, alright—we can talk about it. But I don’t think anything’s missing. I head to Quadreign, work a little magic, and it all falls down like dominoes. Elenore handles the army, that side of things… while I patch up our biggest weakness, solve our issue of lacking spellcasters. Once that’s settled, we reconvene near Vysenn, get that business taken care of, and then finish this war.”

As Elenore’s face betrayed skepticism, Argrave continued, “Rather than me sitting at the helm doing very little at all other than looking handsome, we can be working on two problems concurrently. I deal with the far north, you deal with the near north… and we converge in the middle. What happened in Atrus—it’s something I haven’t been taking ample advantage of. I haven’t been using my knowledge to my advantage.” Argrave tapped his temples.

“I-I…” Elenore sputtered before gathering herself and saying calmly, “You’ve stayed here thus far because it’s not safe outside of Relize. Even the small journey you just went on…!”

“But that’s the thing,” Argrave nodded. “It isn’t safe. I got some of my best work done when it wasn’t safe.”

“What is this, superstition? Don’t be ridiculous,” she shook her head. “How will it look if you depart for Quadreign on the eve of our army’s march?”

“Who says anyone has to see at all?” Argrave held his hands out. “This is all going to be very low-key. It might be for the best if I stay out of sight, out of mind.” Elenore’s face remained steeped in disbelief, and so Argrave hurriedly said, “I think Anneliese is right. Let’s go somewhere else, talk about what I had in mind… for starters, let’s talk about how Magister Vasilisa’s presence is a boon and a half. A good thing, too—I think I rather liked being a nobody.”

#####

At early morning, the bars were not so rowdy. Indeed, any that were there this early in the morning were likely looking to leave quietly as their heads would be pounding. A few sat at the bar: among them, a tall blonde woman. She drank slowly and seemed more lost in thought than revelry.

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice interrupted Magister Vasilisa’s thoughts as she drank.

She turned her head to a party of three, then raised her head to get a better look at them. They were ridiculously tall, all three. One was a brawny man with long white hair wearing sailor’s clothes. The other was a woman wearing some heavy white furs that concealed most of her. And the third… a man just shorter than the first, with some mass about him with long, wavy, almost snow-white hair.

“Not interested,” Vasilisa said at once, turning back to her drink. “I have passage.”

She had seen these people about—apparently, Leopold Dandalan, elected leader of Relize, had taken a snow elf to wife. Beyond that, the king kept one as company—rumor whirled she was his fiancée, but those mutterings were never confirmed officially. Regardless, elves wandered the docks at Relize frequently, and Vasilisa had seen some of them about. Their goods were in very high demand, foremost among them being fur. The Relizeans certainly did not discriminate how coin entered their pockets, and so these new arrivals were welcomed.

“I am told you’re from Quadreign,” the man continued. “Your house ruled the region as queens before Felipe III came and conquered your lands.”

Vasilisa turned her head to look at the man once more. She considered harming him then and there to silence him, but further scrutiny exposed this man as a mage. She could not say for certain what rank he was, but his magic pool was certainly capable of being A-rank. The woman beside him, too, was not particularly lacking.

The Magister straightened on the bar stool, then turned her whole body. “Speak carefully,” she warned the man. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m told that your region was home to spellcasters entirely unaffiliated with the Order of the Gray Owl,” the man continued. Vasilisa looked at his eyes—they were peculiar. His iris was dull gold and gray at seemingly random points. “Furthermore, you assured your supremacy over regional powers because of a magical flame—a flame that’s now extinguished.”

Vasilisa inhaled and exhaled slowly, hiding her interest as best she knew how. “Continue,” she gestured with her chin.

“I am rather interested in this flame,” the man continued.

“This concerns me how?” Vasilisa set one arm on the counter loudly, fed up with how slow this conversation proceeded.

“With Veid as my witness, I’d like to enter into contract with you, Magister Vasilisa,” the man said. “My wife… her ascendency to A-rank may hinge on coming into contact with that flame. As such, I would re-ignite it. In return, I hope you can take us as guests to Quadreign… and allow us to do so.”

Vasilisa ground her teeth, but then leaned back in the stool, contemplating. “Fifteen years, I’ve been investigating this matter. Suffocating a fire of that nature is much easier than starting one, elf.”

The man nodded, then reached into his pocket. Vasilisa eyed him cautiously, but he pulled free a stone tablet and set it upon the table. Looking at it, recognition dawned on her. It was but a simple stone tablet, but the rune stained on its surface in strange blue ink was very familiar.

“That fire… you’ve been unsuccessful because you’re ignorant of its origins. It isn’t your heritage. It’s ours.” The man crossed his arms. “But, please, let’s have a conversation. I’m sure I can answer some questions that you have.”

Vasilisa bit her lip in the quiet, then scanned the three before her. “Your names?”

The man smiled. “I am Silvaden ‘the Smiler.’ I answer to my name or my sobriquet—whichever pleases you. This is my wife, Sanora, and my father-in-law, Vulras.” He clasped his hands together. “Can I take it you have a positive predisposition towards this arrangement?”

#####

Argrave watched as sailors loaded shipments onto the galley that Vasilisa was taking. Things had gone rather smoothly with Vasilisa. The bigger headache had been justifying everything to Leopold… and getting this wig on such short order. It was difficult to avoid adjusting it constantly, yet the person beside him swayed him against doing so. He caught her eye.

“Are you disappointed I ride on a merchant vessel?” Vasilisa inquired. “Were you expecting more grandiose treatment, elf?”

Argrave turned his head. “My father-in-law is a merchant. I have great regard for the profession,” he disagreed.

Was this plan of his ridiculous? Perhaps. But Argrave earned Elenore’s support to name her regent—he’d fully expected to do things like this. He hadn’t expected to do so exactly in this manner, nor so suddenly… but Traugott’s unexpected arrival and change in character in light of his revelations of Gerechtigkeit’s existence could pose problems. He had to be proactive before the problems mounted and overwhelmed him.

Above all, he felt the only way to ensure things were done perfectly in the north was to get personally involved. Quadreign was a domino in a long line—he firmly believed this. More issues spurred him forward: Anneliese might gain insight from the flame in Quadreign of a similar nature to what Llewellen experienced, and Galamon might manage to find the bearer of the glass eye related to vampirism.

Good reasons, one and all—enough so that Elenore had even agreed with Argrave. And frankly, his sister would handle things better than he might be able to. Their army was restoring order, not going to battle—they’d subjugate bandits, communicate with local lords, earn allegiances through trades and promises. The majority of that was something Elenore was overqualified to deal with.

Argrave’s royal guard would be remaining here. Bringing them along would take too much in the way of preparation and would only rouse suspicion from Vasilisa. Indeed, their continued presence and protection of Elenore gave credence to the idea that Argrave was simply avoiding the public. Honestly, Argrave felt free without them.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as they’re done loading the cargo,” Vasilisa informed him. “Apparently, they spun Traugott’s meeting with Elenore as an assassination attempt with me as the savior. I won’t have them use my presence as some sort of sign of allegiance. It’s bothersome, these games of theirs… but I needed the money,” she sighed. “I talked to your kind, Smiler. They say you’re important in your land.”

Argrave nodded, looking back to the ship. He’d used a real name to make the story a bit more credible, and he was rather glad to have done so. “I’m only a servant of Veid, as all Veidimen are.”

Vasilisa nodded. “So long as you don’t think you’re important, you won’t need to be checked. You’ll be in my family’s land. Conquered we might be… but this land is torn asunder, and you are foreign to our soil. Am I clear, Silvaden?”

Argrave nodded. “Absolutely. Don’t forget—we Veidimen hold contracts sacred.”