In the next few days, Lugaria learned much more about the state of Hearth-Home. He still heard no word of the blonde woman Katerin had sought, but asking after her at the tavern would raise questions he could not afford. There was a guard around the tavern at every strike of the hour now, and more than one patron had decided they could find a better meal in their own homes.

He still kept a heavy watch on the Boar's Backstrap, passing by it as he explored the vast city. In under a tenday, he watched as the city changed. Teleportation magic had been shut down, and now a hefty number of the city's army watched the Tower, and patrolled the gates and main roads of the city for any newcomers.

Posters went up on every street corner with a well drawn image of Katerin upon them, asking anyone who had seen her face to report to the guards, as she was expected at the castle at the earliest notice.

Lugaria had visited Katerin's stepmother's home, only to find it watched at all hours by four guards, who studied any face who dared look at the building with the intention of remembering it. Imeiza was safe on Itrea, for the moment, but it seemed she could not return without trouble, if she wanted.

Katerin should stay out of this, Lugaria thought to himself with a sigh.

He watched as thieves and arsonists grew bolder, despite the increase of guards, and he watched as several riots broke out across every sector of the city. From common construction workers to the lords and ladies.

They all expressed their fear in distinct ways, with fists, tools, nudity, crude language and any other activity to relieve the overwhelming tension that was still building.

As he walked toward the Verin View, the overcast sky only thickened, and he rejoiced in the winds that cleared away the stink of the city. He had been once already, to the multi-floored building, with its stone base and wooden top floor sticking out over the street, and had not been surprised by what it held.

It was a fine bar and gambling den. As with all fronts, he knew that other things happened behind the curtained rooms that he could not get close to, but he had a plan. On the fourth floor there would be a meeting today, and he knew he could garner much more from this than sitting in the tavern. The meeting was a strange one in his eyes.

Everything he had gathered from the whispers in the city was that the Verin View housed the highest members and management of the Emerald Syndicate. The Syndicate was as close to open crime as Hearth-Home held. Merchants, lords, and lowly thieves joined within, to pad their purses and find dealings with associates capable of theft, document forgery and other skills that were looked down upon in polite society. It was a place he would have loved, as a younger man. 

The odd note to him, was that the woman he had followed from the resistance meetings was a member of this Syndicate. Strange, that even the thieves disliked the new king. He would have thought an establishment such as this one would be eager to make friendships and manipulations wherever they could.

He walked in the door and glanced around, There was a bar on the back wall of the room, and to either side were a myriad of activities, including a dance floor where a small band had just began to play, and another room with card tables and roulette stands. He stayed near the bar and asked the woman behind it for a simple drink, glancing around as if pondering how he might spend his evening.

The easiest way to the stairs was through the ballroom, but entering there with no kind of partner for such dances left him at a disadvantage. He wondered if he could still vanish in a room full of people and knew he would have no choice but to try. He finished his glass, wincing at the burn in his throat, and made his way towards the dance floor.

There were a few merchants and their companions, and others that filled the floor. They danced in a slow saunter. Lugaria found a place against the wall and scanned the hallway across the room. No one stood guard, but he knew that there would be a sentry hidden somewhere. He waited and watched the people around him until the next song began, and the tempo rose. The dancers let out of cries of joy and twirled around, with their hoop skirts tilting.

With his heart feeling tight to the inside of his chest, Lugaria moved with surety toward the other side of the room, skirting the floor and not daring to look behind himself. No one would notice, and no one truly cared. That is what he told himself.

When he reached the hall, he let out a shaky breath, and glanced at the room from the corner of his eye. No one had yet noticed his absence. He placed his hand on the stone of the wall and stepped inside it with a sigh of relief. He followed the path of the stairway he remembered from his first glance. He stepped out of the wall with a curse at the top, surprising himself with the brutishness of his exit. His magic had been halted, because there was no more stone to travel through.

The hallway before him was lined with a green rug, and soft torches burned low in vine like sconces. Last room on the right, he thought, steeling his nerves. He crept down the hall and peeked around the corner, not fighting to contain his smile as he saw the door guarded by two men. Sometimes a challenge was enjoyable, after all.

He backed a few paces away and ducked into an open door to consider his options. It was always best if no one ever knew he had been present, so he could not disturb the guard. The second story was all timber construction and magically warded, so he could not hide within the walls. But he had more tricks than that. He pulled his cloak hood up, and covered his mouth with a kerchief in case the spell should fail, and in case he should need to run without being recognized.

He tugged on the clasp of his dagger, freeing it just the slightest bit from the constraints of its sheathe, before he cast his spell, and stepped out into the hall once more. By no means was he a master of magic, and he had no desire to be, but he would not deny its occasional usefulness. He walked toward the guards, tempering his breath to nothing more than a whisper of the faintest sound, and counting on the soft tread-less leather of his boots to keep his steps silent.

He stopped just before the middle of the door and glanced the guards to his either side. One shuffled and sighed, but they paid no heed to the invisible man who stood less than a foot from either of them. He grinned, kept one hand on his dagger, and pressed an ear to the door. Beyond the breathing and shuffling of the paid ruffians to his either side, he could hear conversation.

"The resistance believes their claims to be true, but the longer Colin and Kieneltra remain in the wind, they have began to speculate other forms of government. And Colin is already under quite the number of rumors. The city will happily translate the sins of the father to its children." The voice was female and refined, her words sharp, and her tone was as if she was accustomed to being heeded.

There was a snort, and a male voice replied, accented as though it hailed from the southern reaches of Luminya. "Colin never had the cunning to aspire to such a coupe' and Kieneltra was always too busy with her head in a book. They have nothing more than rumors."

"Rumors that could prove great tools to us, should we lose our current pawn." Another female voice, and this one held a nasal quality.

"Mordai is a dog. He has only been given more leash than before." The male voice again, defensive now.

"It seems to me he is a dog who took that extra leash and ran off with it." The first female voice was condescending.

"I can keep my subordinates in line."

"He isn't a child, Sylvestris. Give a wolf a taste of freedom..."

"Hah!" The man exclaimed. "He is no more a wolf than you are a mule with wings, and he is cowed already. He hangs on my every word for the hopes that I will further sate his curiosities about the Kings previous activities. I have him tightly gripped, Urgist. I suggest you worry more about where you've dipped your own fingers."

The nasally voice sighed. "I don't see why you're both so worried." There was a pause and the clink of a wineglass landing on a table. "We have our shipment papers, we have our hands around the throat of the new king, and we know every plan the resistance might try to make."

"We don't have the Tower," Urgist said.

"To the hells with the Tower. They are cowards all. They stay hidden behind their gates and pretend as if nothing has even happened in the city." Sylvestris scoffed, as if disgusted by it.

"That may be how it appears, but Halemeda ignores no happening. No matter how small. Her reputation as a lush is nothing more than a cover. She is not an enemy we want to make. With teleportation already shut down, she is feeling the pressure, and she can easily respond in kind. An army of mages under a cunning mind can surely defeat a divided dragon." Urgist's voice was growing annoyed.

There was another clink of a wineglass, and a whine. "Is there any reason I have to sit here and listen to your bickering? Or can I leave?"

There was a moment of silence before Urgist spoke again. "Go. Report to me if you learn anymore of the girl. I would very much like to meet her before the guard does."

Lugaria heard a chair scraping across the floor and was forced to backpedal away as half of the double doors opened before him. He stepped away and pressed his back against the wall, as a young but exceedingly well-dressed young woman stepped out the door, refusing to close it behind her.

Snivel, Lugaria thought, packing the nickname away until he might replace it with the woman's true name. He looked to the door, but decided against his urge to enter the room. He knew better than to push his luck.

There was a heavy sigh as the short woman he had seen at the Boar's Backstrap rose, glared down the hall at the departing figure. Urgist.  He studied her features, and only glanced to the balding man before the door closed. As he turned to resume his listening, he heard several footsteps on the stairs, and grimaced, giving up his opportunity for the safety of that empty room down the hall.

Once the footsteps faded away, and the hall grew quiet once again, Lugaria made his way away from the Verin View, found a side alley and let his spell of invisibility drop. His thoughts pondered the way every sentence had been worded, and he played them over again in his mind as he searched for any hidden meaning.

Urgist was cunning, and from what he had heard she missed few, if any, details. If she was involved so deeply in this change, then it was larger and more dangerous than he had first assumed. Sniveling and greasy underlings made no difference when the thinking mind of the operation was on such a level.

And they were searching for Katerin, too. To an end he did not know, but one he was sure would aid them alone. He sighed, as he walked back toward his lodgings and he wondered how a girl who had once been too timid to smile in the presence of a soldier was now the center of quite a bit of worry. Had she always been so excellent at ruining the plans of others?

The girl was trouble, and even her home kingdom knew it. But knowing her, she had likely been the one to declare it to them.

Nitwit.

He knew he should find a way into the Tower, or into the castle-keep, but both were far outside the abilities of his contacts and himself, for now. Katerin had contacts in the Tower, and if she desperately needed to speak with headmistress Halemeda, she could do so on the risk of her own neck.

Lugaria stayed in Hearth-Home for four more days, watching Urgist's movements, and trying to learn further of the entities in the blooming resistance. On the day before he left, he awoke to a strange commotion in the streets. The hollow sound of armored feet ringing like a blacksmith's hammer on the cobblestones. He rose from his bed and stared down upon a mass of armored individuals.

The Wings of the land of the dragon.

Every piece of their armor glimmered crimson, and was crossed with a pattern resembling the scales of a dragon, as that was the true material from which the armor had been formed. Their helms were shaped with curved horns, and their armor a mixture of plate and leather, and each bore the wingspan of a dragon on the left shoulder. Each carried a pike of equal length to them. And despite their armored appearance, this regiment was the swiftest unit in the world. They could jump to heights no normal soul dreamed of, and they were called the wings because despite their lack of wings, they were especially skilled at fighting in the air.

"The armies are marching," Wives said on the street side.

"To conquer and retake this kingdom and keep it from turning on its crown." The fearful whispered, while fathers assured their children they were in no danger.

Lugaria listened to the whispers, and they said that the rest of the army moved, too. He waited until the company left his vision completely before he dressed and readied his pack.

It was time for him to leave.

Kryrial paced in his study with a smile that he truly felt. He could almost hear the footsteps of his army moving, and it filled him with an unmistakable joy. They would leave the city and split off to heed their orders, and all he had to do was sit here and wait. He paced, but his excitement did not fade, and the feeling of something other than boredom made him hungry. But he did not desire food. He was hungry for what was coming. The chaos, the bloodshed. It would be portrayed so violently in the history books. His name might not be mentioned, but he would know, and that was enough.

He smelled Mordai in the foyer before the knock ever came. He waited for it to open, making sure he looked attentive and proud.

Mordai entered the room, holding a set of chains in his hands. He tugged, and behind him were two men. Both of them still young, their slightly elven ears evidence of their mother.

Kryrial laughed and patted Mordai triumphantly on the shoulder. He did not miss the fact that Mordai grimaced, his teeth showing momentarily at the contact.

But he did not care.

"I had some help, to catch them, but... here they are." Mordai proffered the chains.

Kryrial took them only to drop them as the door closed and locked. "You are efficient, I'll give you that." He turned to the two blonde men, looking first to the one with tears streaming down his face. "Web." He shook his head, pulling the shaking late teens prince up from his knees. "You look absolutely terrified."

"You killed... you... all my family." Web pulled away from him, trying to keep his head high, but failing.

"No, no, no. He killed all your family. I am here to help you." Kryrial turned Web's face to gaze upon Mordai. "I can help you, if you help me."

"There's nothing worth helping."

"Oh, my. You're seeing this all wrong." Kryrial placed his hands on either side of Web's face, so that the prince could see only him. "You still have a purpose." Magic tingled along his fingertips, and wrapped over Webs head, sinking beneath his flesh and his skull. The boys eyes went blank, and his tense posture loosened. "For now, you can be a decoration." Kryrial patted the boy's shoulder once and pointed towards the wall.

The second blonde man glared between Kryrial and Mordai and watched as his brother ambled toward the wall.

Where Web had been crying and shaken, Colin was bruised and battered. Instead of tears he bore a stab wound on his side that leaked blood over his simple shirt. He still possessed plenty of spirit.

"You were always argumentative, Colin." Kryrial jerked his thumb, commanding the oldest of his heirs to rise.

The eldest prince struggled to his feet, and raised his chin to Kryrial, defiance in his eyes. "You going to ask me to help you, or will you just get on with hanging me on the gates?"

"I don't need your help. I need your cooperation."

"Kill him," Colin jerked his head toward Mordai, "And maybe I'll consider it."

Kryrial got close, hearing the gritting of Colin's teeth as he whispered, "I need him. He's important."

"He's just like you." Colin spit on Kryrial's face. "And you can both go to hell."

Mordai sighed from his place near the door, and his feet shuffled.

Kryrial smiled while wiping the spit from his nose. "What makes you think I haven't already been?"

"You have no humility."

"And you have no cunning. Everyone has their flaws." Kryrial shrugged one shoulder. "Do you know what I did to your brother?"

"No."

"I took his mind from him. He can't speak, breathe, eat, or move, unless I tell him it's allowed. But do you want to know the best part? He'll remember everything. And before he dies... I've read there is a moment where everything comes back. One last second of fleeting self before darkness and eternity."

Colin's cold anger diffused, and he swallowed, staring at the blank canvas of a face that had once held a kind and talented prince.

"So, if I let you live, keep up hope. You'll remember everything... if I ever give it back." Kryrial laid a hand on Colin's shoulder, and the magic greeted him again.

Colin jerked on his chains, but made it no further than a few inches away, until Kryrial touched him, and laid the weave of spells in place.

After his face had fully blanked, Mordai stepped away from the wall, his head tilted. "I could've done that for you."

"I can't let you have all the fun, Mordai... why are you still here?"

Mordai sighed, but left the room, and Kryrial spent the rest of his day thinking of all that was to come, and the freedom it could bring him.