Following my dear's intrustructions I went into the fortress. The castle, by nature of Ire's limited space, was the center of the holding. There was a connection to the lord's manor, a barracks, a dungeon beneath the barracks, and where it touched the mountain a cavern extended deeper and was boarded up to allow dry space for civilians under siege and long term storage of water and wheat. In the courtyard was a stage for public trial with the occassional hanging. With the storage and dungeon to be utilized at all times the guards kept a vigil shift.

Kes structure, I observed, walled the city and built its castles and manors in the very center of the walled city with layers of increasingly secure gates, as if the idea was to build inward. Ire structure, on the other hand, seems to be to start with the castle and establish its utility, then build outward with an unwalled city and farmland.

For the Soran to be shown around something so secure as the defenses, regardless of the utility of the castle those defenses guarded, worried me. I had never met a Soran and the North Ire's relationship with them could be best described as 'friend of my enemy' and at worst myths to scare children to behave. I believed the myths of ghostly armor and metal undead to be nonsense, tales of ignorant men to explain a people so isolated as to exist only in stories.

But not even the myths could have prepared me for what I found. The myths did not do them justice.

The first thing I saw was a man in armor so thin and short I nearly mistook him for a child squire. Second, No flesh existed within, not one hint of skin or redness of muscle or sinew. While there was some clothing, it seemed to be more as a tattered afterthought in the same manner as a loincloth at a nudist beach. Every bone was as metal with large veins interweiving within an exoskeleton plated over with scaley layers as a fish. His back was hunched over with arms dangling to his ankles with knife-like fingers sharp enough to cut bone. Whether the man had hair within the helmet, I could not tell, but as it turned its eyes over the city, I saw that its helmet was slitted perpendicular with a tube extending out of its center from which was a shining light like an eye. The light of its cyclops eye flickered with its speech.

"Information: This object has observed no younglings in your domain, Duke. Query: Where are they?"

Its speech terrified me. I had heard all manner of bird, beasts, men, and this was none of these. There was neither pitch nor tone in its words. It reminded me of a string musician sawing away at a slowly stretched single note unto oblivion where you wonder yourself mad if it is still going and you realize it is your own pounding heart in your ears you hear now.

The one this Soran-Blood spoke to was the Duke standing by his side. He was a sprightly older gentlemen of Ire  with a streak of grey entering his black hair and an old military posture he wore as a retired uniform just starting to slouch and grey. On his hip was a blunt ceremonial blade.

The Duke stood close enough to the Soran unguarded that I felt it safe enough to approach.

"They are quite safe, I assure you." The Duke smiled comfortingly and placed a hand on the Soran's shoulder, only to immediately retract it as the Soran flinched and looked up sharply at him. "Under the circumstances, what with rise of the Empire, We sent them away into the warm embrace of Moloch. The disciples looked after them. You should have been there, there was a great fanfare and they had such wide smiles as we sent them away." He finished with a wave of his hand.

The Soran tilted its head slightly and looked up at the man. "Information: This object is ignorant of these disciples. Query: May the Soran know of them?"

"Of course! We will-" He stopped, seeing me approach, and he nearly stumbled over himself. The surprise on his face took many shapes, but landed on joy. "Va-valspear my lad! I- What are you doing here?"

Remembering himself, the Duke stepped to the side so the Soran could look at me. I bowed at the hip with a hand over my heart in a salute. I had to bow very low to lower myself beneath the Soran's head level. The Soran did not salute me back, but stared at me through the litted cyclops helmet. Now up close, I saw no eyes, mouth, nose, or face of any kind within the helmet. Nervously, I had no way of knowing where to put my eyes and this short man made no gesture to do the same. For that matter, I had no way of discerning facial expressions if there was no face to discern.

The Duke glanced between us briefly, coughed into his hand, and motioned to me. "Lord Soran this is Valspear'Ronlin'Kes, newly dubbed king of Kes! King Valspear, may I have the honor to introduce Hieve'Soran, Fifty-Thousand man General of Soran. Valspear was a guest in my home for a fair number of summers, and someone I have the honor to one day call son-by-law! He and my daughter are engaged!"

As welcome as being introduced was, and to know my former warden had received my envoy, he was one step behind on the times. I thought to correct him, but changed my mind. It may be deceitful towards the Soran but if there is one thing I am relearning in my short time with my father and brother, one can never be too paranoid. Best to inform him in private for now.

Though, even if I were to correct him for Hieve'Soran's sake, I was not given the oppurtunity before he was in my face. The Soran, folded and bow-legged, extended them to their full length isntantly giving him another two feet or more, so that instead of looking down at him, I found myself looking just up at him as he peered at me closely enough to touch noses. Like a predator raising itself high to threaten and stare you down, but without the warning, or sound to warn me off. I felt no breath on my face, no moisture, only the cold death of the metal touching my cheek as he brought razor sharp fingers to touch my face.

My instinct was to step back, but a firm hand stopped me. Out of the corner of my eye, just behind me, Izthark shook his head. 'Don't react!' he mouthed.

Hieve spoke in his flat tone, "Query: This is a Kes-Blood?"

He turned his head around me, looked closely at the wound on my face, before looking me up and down while circling me. I stood statue-still to his inspection, while sharing wide-eye'd surprise with the Duke.

After doing a complete circle around me, Hieve stepped away and lowered himself down to his former height. Izthark let go of my shoulder and  stepped back. I released a breath.

"Information: Soran have had few dealings with your domain. Query: If it is authorized by Valspear this object would like to make further queries of your kind when time is convenient."

I briefly glanced once more to my friend, the Duke, confused. Its speech threw me, both spoken and unspoken. Was it not being hostile but merely curious? Do the Soran culture have no sense of personal space? Is it completely incapable of verbal tones and so has to specify the nature of its words?

Clearing my throat, I answered, "I would very much cherish the oppurtunity, lord Soran, but I do not know if I will stay long or move quickly. I have matters to speak with the Duke about, urgent matters. Though time may carry on at its usual pace, timing of events are most pressing."

"Query: How much time does this event require you take with the Duke, king of Kes?"

"Only a few minutes for the moment."

The Duke raised an eyebrow and expressed a curious face to ask if we must. I smiled apologetically. He sighed.

The Duke made a gesture of apology to Hieve, "Please forgive us, Lord Soran, I do not wish to be a rude host, but you know how important the matters of kings are. If you will allow us a short while, I will return to you and we may continue talking."

"Received. Information: 'A few' is defined as three or more. This object shall return in three minutes."

The Duke blinked, "We may need more than that."

"Received."

With that single word response, the Soran-Blood turned and walked a small distance down the wall before turning its eyes -eye?- out towards the land to survey it.

The Duke approached me, and once we were at arm's length I looked back at the Soran and whispered, "Interesting people..."

My friend shook his head, as if to marvel at something. "You don't know the half of it. Unnatural, all of them. Blunt as Ne and as self-isolated as Cynn."

Not to mention its demand to keep our talk between a king and duke to three minutes. "And as proud as a Kes."

"You would know of that more than I... I'm sorry. I heard about your father. You have my condolences. I'm sure he was a good father."

I reply bluntly, "Not really, no. His poison-laced jaws did this to me." I gesture with a finger to my face.

The Duke turned white as a sheet, and his jaw dropped. I've no doubt he hadn't missed it, but he had the honor to not bring it up first. "He!-"

I shrugged, "It's a wonder I wasn't poisoned ontop of scarred."

"I-... I see." He didn't know what to say. Not that I expected otherwise. What is there to say to such news?

I briefly glanced over my friend's shoulder to check, and sure enough the Soran was still a distance away. I whispered, "If you announced me as king, then you must not know. Caius took the throne."

The Duke's composure turned dead-pan serious. He looked at me sharply, surprised perhaps but not stunned or without understanding or experience. "Your little brother?"

"One and the same. King Caius wants me and my followers dead, so I sent my loyalists north to the Tower of the Sun while I fled west. That man there is my bodyguard." I thrust my thumb back. "I can't thank you enough for going to the Numerenai Guild. I would not be alive if it were not for the Sleepless One's timely intervention."

"That explains why you look worn. Valspear, I am so sorry. I do not know what to say. I never would have sent you back if I had known this is what awaited you."

"It is not your fault. To be fair, I did not see all of it coming either. Perhaps I had just been gone too long. I lost my sense of caution with them. I forgot how to be ruthless and cunning."

He smiled warmly, "You never had a ruthless side, lad, and I say that to your credit. Ruthless people rarely know when it is enough." His warmth turned to confusion, "But that bodyguard, why do you think I sent him?"

My own confusion matched his. "You didn't? Who else would have known to send him?"  Or had the concern? "Amelia?"

"Sure she might have desired to if she had the notion, but she comes to me first for any large purchases like that." He denied it.

I hummed in thought, but no answer came. Never the less, it did not matter. What was most important is that someone had. I'd be dead otherwise. "Hm... perhaps someday this sponsor will reveal himself. All the same, despite the chance of it and his unusual habits, I am grateful to my hidden patron all the same."

The Duke nodded in understanding, then whispered, "Valspear, be clear with me. Do you expect me to hide you away from Caius?"

I scoffed, "No. I leave Caius to the wolves of Ne. I am here to rally allies against the Aeterna's Emp-"

Quick as a snake and as frightened as a rabbit, he jumped me and held a hand over my mouth to stifle me. I heard Izthark approach, but he did not stop it. The Duke had not reached for his blade nor was hurting me. If anything, the Duke turned his head back to assure, yes, the Soran had not heard. He let out a breath he had been holding suddenly.

He whispered, "Do not utter such things here! It is not safe talk!"

A moment passed as I looked into his eyes. It dawned on me.

He was frightened. We shared the same enemy and the same paranoia: the Aeterna.

I nodded, the Duke released me, and I whispered, "How wide spread is his reach? How far go his ears and eyes?"

"All around you! Come. The Soran will be annoyed but I'll deal with him later." The Duke turned and sprinted down the stone steps while motioning me to follow. Izthark shrugged, and we followed after him. I glanced up and noted the Soran watched us leave, but made no motion to stop or follow us, nor conveyed any readable expression. A chill went down my spine.

The Duke took us towards the back of the castle towards the barracks, and ordered those resting to leave and make sure we were not disturbed. Izthark shut the door behind us and leaned back against it to watch.

"Here. You saw no one follow?" The Duke questioned me. I shook my head. "Good. Now, what is this about rallying allies?"

I explained as best I could, "My lord, since the Ire king's death, I fear Ire to be divided. Am I wrong in this assessment? Caius may hold kingship but Kes nor Ire, both places I call home, are not lost to me. I still hold the blood of kings and with that wish to lead the front against the Aeterna. If the states of North Ire were to go across the sea to the Deep Forest and rally with me and my loyalists from the north, while the South Ire and Soran rally against the Empire from the south, and the Empire is occupied with my brother in the east, then I believe there is victory. We can force the Aeterna to halt his advance and give up whatever claim he has to Dyson."

As I spoke the Duke listened, he twitched a few times nervously, and when I was done he motioned towards the window, towards the sun. "You truly think, even together, we could defeat him? What number of men can fight god? What are we going to do, wave our swords and spears in the air at it angrily?! I see the hope in your eyes, but what assurance can you give that the hope is not madness given denial?"

"Maybe not the sun, but at least its prophet. I have a friend who is skilled, and from his lips I have a strategy. Even the sun's prophet is held to rules we can work around... you are right." I admitted, head bowed. "My hope is perhaps denial laced by madness, but I am willing to acknowledge it as such. So long as the rules of the Aeterna hold true, then there is hope."

"And if these rules do not?"

I took a moment to consider it. What option would there be left? In my mind, there was only one. "Then I will be the first to surrender and beg for his mercy as that will be the only recourse left to any of us."

Hearing my words, a change went over him. I stayed silent as a war raged in him. He turned away from me, at once seeming a warrior of conviction but a terrified babe. He whispered things to himself, ranted about foolishness and mistakes on my part, and swept his arms to the side as if debating with a ghost.

I know his nature. He is a man who can debate within himself and seemingly forget the world around him, but the sudden fierceness of it concerned me. I took two steps closer, enough to be out of arms reach, but also enough to draw his attention out of himself again. He looked up at me with frightened eyes.

I asked, "My lord, why are you troubled? Did you not send me to gather allies to fight against-"

He hissed, "No, I sent you to away to be safe and flee from war not to turn back around and wage your own!"

I drew in breath. The party, the presence of Soran, the lack of martial law in the face of Aeterna's ever nearing threat. What were they truly here for?

"What did you do..." I asked.

All at once the youth and power of the duke passed, and I saw in his slouch a tired soldier, and a concerned father. He shook his head slowly, and said, his voice dripping in shame and guilt, and just a hint of accusation, "You weren't the first to surrender to the Empire. You shouldn't have returned."