"I did it, Grandmaster!" Fox shouted to Hawk. He was beaming. "King Thomas is no more. Sunstone Castle is mine."

Hawk said nothing in return; she didn't even lift her veil, nor acknowledged him in any other way. Hooves clicked softly as the black stallion brought her to the partly collapsed, now soot-black marble stairs. 

The masters of the Mage Council trailed behind her, matching the Grandmaster's pace, murmuring among themselves as they feasted their eyes on the riches of Sundale. 

Or rather—what had once been the vibrant, beating heart of the city. Somehow, the havoc he had wreaked seemed more real standing down here than up on the castle. The temple was smouldering; part of the roof had collapsed, and holy statues had lost their heads, a limb, or had crashed down entirely. The arches of the sundial had largely melted, hot brownish-red bronze still dripping down where Sundalers sat on their knees; some already slumped. Dead or dying. 

Fox bit the inside of his cheek as his right foot cramped up. The spasms grew in force, to a pain so intense that sweat erupted from every pore. 

In order to apply less pressure, he tried shifting his boot. Instantly, he met a sticky resistance that sent a bone-crushing shockwave up his leg.

He glanced down. A muddy pool of ashes and blood had formed beneath him.

Gritting his teeth, he tore his sole off the ground. Floods of pain washed over him, making his chest contract, making him gasp and pant. Beads of sweat kept pouring down, but he was shivering too. What sorcery were the Gods up to that he was freezing and boiling simultaneously?

He rested his foot on his heel, and for three whole heartbeats, the agony faded to a dull ache. Then, his left shin began to throb.

Letting out a long breath, he jutted his chin, determined to not show any sign of weakness, not in front of the army of magicians, not in front of the people of Sundale. He was their new ruler, and he only intended to do what was right. Just as he would be able to heal, so would the city. The sundial could be reforged, the broken marble replaced by statues of new heroes, roads repaved, the temple and houses rebuilt. A good night's sleep, and then he would start working on restoring Sundale. The new city would reflect the union of Greenlanders and Silvermarkers. He had so many ideas.

A brown-cloaked magician with black hair and sun-kissed skin got off her spotted grey horse. 

Fox wrecked his brain to remember her name, her actual Greenlander name. In Silvermark, she had called herself Cat, but, she was originally from a village near the Port.

Cathy... Cathrin...Catharina... 

A nagging headache rolled over him, drumming at the same beat as the bullet protruding from his foot, so he stopped thinking. There was no reason he needed to know her true name. To him, she would forever be Cat.

She positioned herself by Hawk's side, not to offer an arm to help the Grandmaster dismounting her tall horse. That would have been the Greenlander way. Fox flinched each time Cat stomped the ground, each kick harder than the one before. 

Steps of sand and dirt appeared beside the horse.

Grandmaster Hawk got off her horse with the elegance of a high lady. At last, she lifted her veil and graced him with a look.

The journey had taken a toll on her. Her cheeks were sunken, and dark circles pooled beneath lifeless eyes. If it had been up to him, she wouldn't have to come all this way. Moondale and the Mage Council—that was where she belonged. Not here.

She went straight for him.

Fox froze as she opened her arms and wrapped them around him. It was a delicate, relatively painless, yet fleeting moment that was over before he could consider returning the favour, but that allowed her to whisper discreetly, "You didn't stick to the plan."

"There was an opportunity, and I took it," Fox said as their eyes met. He didn't want to elaborate, not here and now, in front of so many when all he wanted to do was bask in the glory of victory and forget how much pain he was in. 

She reached for his hand, and with no regard for the stains of blood, lifted his arm. A deep, mind-numbing ache rippled through his muscles, all the way to his phantom finger. "Ladies, gentlemen, magicians of Silvermark, Sundale belongs to us now! Hail to King Storm! And praise your regent, Lord Fox."

Fox shot her a sideways glance as the silver army erupted in cheers and applause. Here and there, there were cries of protest and booing Sundalers disrupted the clamours of victory. They were short-lived. Blue, red, and green rays of lethal magic picked out the voices of disapproval. He heard shots as well.

"Or do you prefer to be called Lord Harry here?" Hawk asked. 

"I did all the work," he grumbled.

"You turned this city into a ruin," she said, softly yet loud enough for him to hear.

"I did what I had to do. I deserve recognition."

"And so you will, but what do you want more, Fox? You get what you bargained for—this castle and regency over Sundale."

"I want all of The Greenlands."

A blaster ended the life of an old, white-haired man in a green uniform. Fox could have sworn the man had more sycamore leaves on his collar than the other officers. He wasn't sure. A fresh wave of pain had blurred his vision before he could check whether his eyes had betrayed him. The man had already fallen.

"Stop pouting. Smile," Hawk said, too cheery for the tone of the conversation. She must have noticed his frown. "The army wants to see you happy. You're their hero."

He was happy until she showed up, and he didn't need her to tell him he was a hero. He already knew that. Understanding the importance of keeping up appearances, he forced his mouth into a wide smile and slowly raised his fist.

The members of the silver army had started chanting songs, but beyond them, fear gripped bloodied, soot-covered Greenlanders as voices of disapproval collapsed to the ground. He could tell them to not be afraid, but they wouldn't believe him, not when anyone criticising the new rules was slaughtered. His actions would have to speak louder than words.

For a fraction of a moment, the world around him went black. Then it returned, as though it had never occurred. A faint buzzing sound hummed in his ear. He felt miserable.

 "I deserve to be King," he whispered to Hawk. She couldn't just ignore his birthright.

"You cannot," she retorted. "You may have conquered Sundale, but the road to controlling the rest of the country will be a long one."

"I will get the Lords of The Greenlands to kneel—watch me."

"And then there's your half-brother—"

"Who is not here," Fox said. "I'm the only heir present in the country."

"He can come back."

"And I will kill him." He was too tired to explain his more nuanced plan.

"That still leaves Storm."

"What about him?" Fox grunted.

"You still answer to him—He's King, you're his regent." When Fox didn't respond, Hawk added, "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Despite another wave of pain searing through his veins, Fox remembered to keep waving. And though the urge to grimace was strong, he still had a smile on his face. 

So, he would pay taxes like an obedient province and send a letter to Moondale every week. He would invite the man and his family over once a year (or twice, if Storm wished). In the end, The Greenlands would be his to govern and rule over. To the people of his country, he would be the face of the monarchy, not the grey stubble-bearded Magician King of Silvermark.

"Fox, are you sure you grasp all the implications of this set-up?" Hawk asked.

"Yes!" He wished she would shut up.

"Good. Now, we need to get you inside, patch you up," Hawk said, no emotion in her voice. "The castle—is it empty?"

"The King and Queen's belongings are in there."

"I meant people, Puddingbrain."

She hadn't specified that. "I doubt there will be many left. I killed many guards. Some ran away, and so did the servants, cooks, and other personnel—if they got out in time." He purposely omitted Bart. Hawk didn't have to know about his little talk to the former guard.

"And Queen Crystal—I have a letter for her, from her brother."

"I didn't kill her, but I don't know where she is." Before she could criticize him again, he said, "I couldn't keep track of everyone. I had a war to win."

Hawk nodded. "Is the state of the castle as bad as the city?"

"It was at the centre of the attack. So, yes."

Hawk shot him a scowl that made Fox's blood reach boiling point. Flames were tingling at his fingertips, moments from erupting. How he shook off the God of Wrath, he didn't know. The fire faded; the tingling stopped, and he felt cold, so incredibly cold, and tired. The God of Sloth was pulling at his eyelids.

He shouted to keep himself awake. "You have no idea what I went through!"

"I don't," she admitted. "We need to talk, you and me, in private. Urgently."

Fox nodded. It was the first sensible sentence that had come out of her mouth.

Hawk lowered her arm and let go of him. "Water Magicians, and Earth Magicians, extinguish the burning buildings. Heal those in need of help. Gather the dead. Fire Mages, build a pyre outside the city gates. Allow the people of Sundale to grieve for their lost ones. Air Magicians—your job is to manage the peace. If any Sundaler rises against you, kill them."

"No!" Fox called out. "Imprison them."

Hawk's eyes grew wide. She didn't need to enter his mind to make her point. What are you doing?

"You learn nothing from sheep that fear you, Grandmaster." Wincing, he focused on his breathing. "It's the wolves... the ones that claw—they will teach you." 

"If you don't kill the wolves, they'll form a pack and come back stronger."

"Hawk, respect my decision!"

They exchanged a few tense looks that reminded Fox of the disagreements the Grandmaster used to have with King Ariel. The look on her face told him he shouldn't try this again, but stared down at her. She shouldn't do this to him again. Her next actions would decide whether she considered him her superior or still a subordinate. She better chose wisely.

She folded her hands in front of her, then announced stately, "Air Magicians, imprison those who resist—Lord Fox has spoken."

Fox wished he could grin; he no longer had the energy for it.

"Is there anything else you disagree with?" she asked.

"No," he said. He also chose to ignore the disdainful manner with which she spoke.

"Good, we have more important matters to attend to." Hawk turned towards the Earth Magician who had helped her dismount her horse. "Cat, gather your chapter. Follow me and Fox into the castle."

Once more, the Earth Magician stomped her foot. The broken marble shaped itself into a star that shot fifty feet into the air where it dissolved into dust.

A group of thirteen brown-cloaked magicians stepped out of the crowd. 

Fox narrowed his eyes. There was hardly a familiar face among them. Part of him had hoped Badger and Fawn would have travelled south to live in his kingdom. He would have rejoiced to see them again after so many years, to have someone other than Hawk to exchange memories of the good old days with Katla and the long evenings in the Antler. 

They would be there in his dreams. They always were.

Oh, how he longed for sleep.

He blinked rapidly.

Hawk tugged the iron-laced wooden portcullis that separated them from the official entrance into Sunstone Castle. She closed one eye and peered through one of the many bullet holes that riddled the portal beyond. Why she did this, Fox didn't know. 

With so many side entries and secret passages unlocked from the guards and staff fleeing to safety, they didn't need to walk in through the front door. This was shorter and required fewer excruciating steps, so he let her try. He could always point her in the right direction later and be smug about it.

She conjured a thread of water so slender and squirmy it resembled a small snake and sent it through one of the holes. While Fox was sure, the iron would break the magic, the snake remained intact. A few clicks were followed by a heavy rattling noise.

The massive portcullis rose, groaning as long, sharp spikes were lifted from their spot hidden deep in the marble. 

She twirled her hand, just for an instant, but a twitch. The snake turned around, water replaced by white-hot burning flames that devoured the wood.

Fox huffed as she stuck her hand through the hole and opened the door from the inside. Now, she was just showing off. Convenient, yes, and he would have to walk less, but she still just did it because she wanted everyone to see that she could.

"Let's look at the damages," she said, gesturing him to enter.

"Ladies first." He offered in return.

"Not before the regent of Sundale."

He took the first step, and the pain that shot through him was that of a hundred bandages being ripped from an open wound. For a moment, he couldn't tell east from west. Black spots danced before his eyes.

Wincing, he limped into the hallway. Every fibre of his being protested against moving, but, Gods be damned, he padded on, hoping both the Grandmaster and Cat's chapter of Earth Magicians would be strategically placed that nobody on the square saw his faltering steps.

"You're losing blood with each step," Hawk said. Was that a hint of concern in her voice?

"Can't bake a pie without breaking eggs," Fox moaned.

"Was that your strategy when setting the place ablaze?"

"It's fine... I'm fine."

"As you wish, My Lord."

Fox sank through his left knee as something cracked underneath his foot, shards of broken porcelain. He kept walking, his head held high, his vision slipping in and out of focus. 

For the most part, the grand hall's structure was intact. Bullets had hammered through the wall, destroying busts, paintings, golden armour and other historical artefacts on display. 

In between the broken pieces lay a surprising number of bodies. Some of the men and women had been hit by the bullets of those fog-brained soldiers who thought he would appear through the main entrance to greet the people of Sundale. Friendly fire—the unspoken murderer of a chaotic battle. Other bodies were smouldering—their death had been his doing.

A sharp pain shot through his back as he breathed in. "There will be many... many like these, li-littered acro-across the castle." His words sounded slurred. The black spots multiplied rapidly.

His heart skipped a beat, then all of his muscles decided to contract simultaneously.

He blinked as he turned towards Hawk, his sight restored.

"Are you sure you wish to go on, My Lord?"

"Yeah, I want to show you around. I'm just... thirsty." 

He coughed to show his throat was drier than a Scorian desert.

Other than the bullet in his foot, dehydration must be the main reason for his sudden discomfort. He had experienced it before, though never quite as intense, when long training sessions had taken him and his magic to the edge of what he could do. Numerous times he had drunk a gallon of water and still craved more.

If only he knew where the kitchens were. He had always been served, and never found it worth exploring the thoughts of those working there. At the foot of the spiralling staircase, pieces of broken ceramic lay scattered in a pool of liquid.

Hawk had seen it too. Miniscule drops of liquid surged up; then, as they floated towards him, pooled together into what had once been the content of a jug of water.

Fox wrinkled his nose. "That has been on the ground." 

"Surely, you drank out of stinky ditches when you were a pock-nosed brat."

"I never had pocks," he argued. "What if the water contains shards? I won't risk it."

"Great God of Diligence, for someone so gifted in applied magic, you stink at magical theory," Hawk sneered. "As a Water Magician, I called the water and nothing but the water. Drink up!"

Not finding a flaw in Hawk's logic, Fox bit into the hovering bubble. 

The water tasted sweet and pure, but as he swallowed, it fell into his stomach like a stone. Sour acid crept back up.

"Drink more," Hawk urged him.

"Hawk, please."

"Drink," she repeated.

"I do what I want to."

"Stop being so cross—you're acting like a petulant child."

"Is it any wonder?" Fox snorted. "I took Sundale without spilling a drop of Silvermarker blood, yet all you do is criticise me."

"How dare you!" Hawk. "No Silvermarker blood spilt. Ha! Cat, tell him how many we lost, fighting in skirmishes, making sure to kill enough that news of our arrival would never reach the capital, that no patrol or band or warriors could inform the powers that be?"

Cat eyed a Scorian woman with a patched-up scratch wound across her face. "Eighty-four, among which three non-magicians, out of the five that travelled with us."

"They died, fighting for a better world," Fox said the first words that came to mind. He could no longer think. Pain. Pain everywhere. That never-ending damned pain.

"The girl of your chapter who died from an arrow piercing her throat—what was her name again?"

"Fawn, Grandmaster."

"Fawn," Fox repeated. He took another gulp of water. Anything not to face Hawk, but found it hard to swallow.

"Yes, a scrawny little thing, Master Badger's apprentice," Hawk said. "I found her too young, but Badger said she wanted nothing more than to go south, to fight for you, to see you. To... Her dreams were shattered two hours south of the mountains. She died choking on her own blood, already half-buried by the earth she had summoned for her attack. Fourteen years old, Fox! Don't you ever dare say this war was won without Silvermarker casualties!"

His ears rang with the memory of Fawn's annoying high-pitched voice, the way she giggled when he chased her or stuck his tongue out at her after she had killed his flames by manipulating the ground. It had been Fawn who had helped him master the easiest earth magic before he had to run from Badger's cottage, never to return there again.

He couldn't remember her face... why didn't the image form before his eyes? Only her voice and the laughter on repeat. Pain. That blasted pain!

"I...I... I didn't know," Fox stammered.

"And how could you, Fox?" Hawk said. "You're a man, so hell-bent on your own world, with your little fantasies and celebrating your accomplishments without thinking about the consequences. So, yes, Fox, to answer you. I criticise you because you're just like all the other men I served. You care only about yourself!"

"I'm not like the others!" Fox shouted back, drunk on Wrath and pain. "I care! The Silvermarkers won't have to suffer anymore, neither will any magician in this world. Storm can sleep soundly—soon his treasury will start filling up with gold. And that's all thanks to me. My journey wasn't easy either. I had to lie, hide, adapt plans as the world around me changed, and I only had myself to rely on. I pretended to have rescued Half-Ear in Northmore in order to infiltrate this place. For days, I listened and waited for you, but my time here was running out—they were going to kick me out, and I had no idea where you were, or if you would come at all. So, I fought, and burned, and killed, but I claimed this city in the name of the King of Silvermark. Right now, I can barely stand up from the bruises, scratches, cuts, and blaster wounds I suffered. But here, I am. I played your game. I welcome you and the Silver Army. . And I... I just want what I deserve, what I worked so Gods-damn hard for, Hawk. Is that so hard to acknowledge?"

"Fox, we need to treat your wounds. Now!" Hawk said.

"Acknowledge me! Tell me I did well!" Fox screamed.

Blistering hot magic formed at his fingertips. He could almost feel the sparks when the world around him grew dark again. One spasm followed the other. Fire, blood, air, and iron clashed, wrecking his body, like he was beaten up, and again, and again...

He stepped around, faltering, then falling but didn't feel the landing. He was shaking, unable to control a single muscle, unable to draw air into his lungs, unable to detect his own heartbeat.

Was this what dying felt like?

Hasty shadows moved around him; he caught fragments of panicked shouting, none of their words coherent.

"fire... fever..."

"...blood... shoe."

"... take... off... quickly..."

"...iron."

"poison... die."

A weight landed on his chest. His heart began to work again, at a thunderous speed, as if to make up for lost beats. He gasped. His stomach roiled. Saliva built up in his mouth. He still couldn't control his movements.

"Help me," Fox groaned. "Hawk... don't let me die. Please."

He would do better. He was not like the other men. If only she would allow him to prove himself worthy of being King. She would see he was right.

They rolled him to his side just in time for him to lose the little water he had drunk. The acid burnt through his chest, yet he didn't care. The world around him faded.

The God of Sloth called for him, promising an end to this pain, an end to this suffering.

No, no, no. He ignored the deep, calm voice of the celestial being. His reign was far from over—it had only just begun. He couldn't go to the gates of the Heavenly Halls yet. So many ideas to turn into plans, so many plans to execute. Each execution bringing the world closer to perfection. His kingdom. His birthright.

Through the darkness appeared a light, bright and golden. A hand stretched out to him. "You did well. I'm so proud of you, son."

Beyond the hand appeared a face, olive-skinned, with chiselled eyebrows and a thin beard.

"Katla?"

"I'm here for you. Both of us are."

Both? 

As he looked closer, he could see a woman with flame-red hair standing behind this master. She had rosy cheeks and freckles. She was holding something; he smelled something familiar, yet something he hadn't thought about in a very long time: oranges. Marmalade!

"Let go, my firebug. I will take care of you," she said, almost singing. "Come here, I made your favourite."

Mother.

He didn't need to think; he ran towards the light. There was only warmth, no cold. Each step, he lost a few inches. His body shrunk, dried-up blood evaporated, his wounds and scars vanished.

When he threw himself into his mother's arms, he was ten again, with untied shoes, a mop of unruly hair and an appetite for everything sugary and sweet. He pressed his cheek against her. Katla kissed the back of his head.

He felt free and unburdened. No more pain. Finally united again with the two people he ever loved. 

He would stay here forever.