We left my home in a rush. I did not want Slavian exposed to my friend plotting his father's death. Slavian's relationship to his father was complicated and Fereren would only make it more complicated.

 There was nothing I could do to stop my brother and Fereren from plotting, but I could remove the necessity for it from the inside. The Aeterna was thought through and capable of reason, despite our opposing stances. He was stubborn, but he accepted my challenges so long as I had the will to stand to him. It is an honor and respect Adam gave me as his successor. I was the only one who could get through to him. 

My people, my friends, they would not understand. I was walking a line, but so long as I was careful I could protect all of them. My people. Fereren. Aelius. Slavian. Koj'Ineh.  I could even protect the people I would have at one time called enemy, including my brother.

There was hope to prevent war.

"What was that about?" Koj'Ineh asked, forgoing the pretense and speaking normally.

If anyone could understand the delicacy of the situation and keep a secret or two, it would be him. He had trusted me with secrets that could kill him. Thankfully it did not when Caius caught us, but the willingness was not lost on me.

I needed allies.

"Slavian," I started, motioning to them. "May I introduce Koj'Ineh'Mirrad, chieftain of the Ineh."

"Uh- Hi?" Slavian stopped and regarded the towering armored man. The Mirrad-Blood towered even over the Soran-Blood on Slavian's back.

"Slavian, he is very good at keeping secrets, and assisted in rescuing Aelius."

"Okay?" Slavian asked. Koj also looked at me, his helmet tilted.

"I think it would do you good to have a few contacts who you can trust. Especially someone who understands leadership."

"You mean-" Slavian stopped, his eyes widened.

"Yes, but I leave it to you."

Slavian gulped and looked between us. He looked down and tapped his feet on the ground. "I'm Slavian," Slavian let out a shaky breath. "Son of the Aeterna Emperor."

Immediately, Koj went forward. Slavian fled back, his eyes widening and hands up defensively. Nel'Andra snapped his claws out.

"Your eternal majesty," Koj'Ineh greeted. He put his fists on the ground and bowed his head to the ground.

A moment passed and Slavian slowly put his hands down. Nel'Andra retracted his claws. Still, Koj'Ineh stayed prone to the ground, unmoving and paying homage, until Slavian looked away, blushing and fidgeting. 

"I'm not a eternal or majesty or whatever."

"But you are the heir." I replied. I looked around. People were starting to stare. "Koj, this needs to be secret and you are making a scene."

Koj did not move.

"Please, stop. Rise!" Slavian whispered. Koj'Ineh rose to his feet. "Please do not do that again."

"This is how kings greet each other when one is superior to another." I explained. "You will get used to it."

Slavian gave me a sideways glare. "So why don't you do that?"

I smirked. Snarky brat. "Your father expects me to keep you protected and behaved, and you can't very well respect me if I spend all of it eating dirt."

"How about you eat shit then?" He bit playfully.

Koj looked at me. "This complicates everything."

"I'm glad you picked up on that. I'm trying to keep it stable."

We left the tower into the open floor lobby. Immediately we were confronted with a group of Ne-Blood. Their attire was common white robes with sandals, and the men had shaved heads while the women covered their hair with scarves. Each of them had a lit candle in their hands.

"I am sorry, my lords." Their eldest greeted us, his tattooed fingers extended out. "But might you know the next time Aeterna will bless us with his presence?"

Slavian gulped and looked away. Koj continued walking. I smiled and greeted them in like manner. "I presume you to be pilgrims?"

"You assume correctly."

"Well, I am sorry to say that while I have the privilege of living in his tower, he does not apprise us of his plans. No one knows Aeterna's thoughts but Aeterna." 

"I understand, I thought you would know as you live in his home and this young one shares his hair!" The eldest chuckled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Slavian fidget. He stepped out of view behind me. The pilgrim's countenance fell despite his well meaning humor. "We are sorry to interrupt. Peace be with you."

The eldest pilgrim ushered his fellows away and they started to disperse, but I put up a hand and stopped them. "Hold on. While we cannot say when or where the Aeterna will show his face again, we do have regular contact with him. If there is a prayer you want shared, we can take it to him."

The reason we were here with Slavian was because he was afraid of his father. I didn't know the reason or extent of his anger, but no child should hate or fear their father. Respectful fear, yes, but not terror. I knew it well. I don't know which I detested more, my father or my distaste for him. So though it made him uncomfortable to hear and be under the attention of these religious men and women, it would do him good to hear this. If only to heal.

As the prince to the Empire he would be seeing and hearing a lot more of this anyway. Might as well help him get exposure in a controlled manner.

My suggestion lit up their faces and immediately we were surrounded and pressed from all sides. I took as many of them as I could to memory, but there were too many. The vast majority was thankfulness for restoring crops to Ne from its desert, followed by thankfulness for ending the bloody war and bringing peace to the land, and then followed by wishes for health and many children and more things I failed to track.

Slavian grew increasingly tense, jumping from nervous hiding, panicked freezing, and eventually fist-clenching, hyperventilating hostility. I stepped in to give him space before he punched someone and in so doing a candle burned the fringe of my clothes. I patted it down, but enough was enough. I promised to take their prayers to Aeterna and requested we be allowed to continue on our way for today.

The crowd dispersed with many thanks and bows, but Slavian ignored it all and fled as soon as an opening appeared. I went after him and found him sitting in an alleyway with his head against his knees struggling to breath. Koj caught up to us but stopped short on seeing the boy. He kept respectful distance.

My heart cramped when I saw him. It was just like when I found him in the library. I approached him slowly. "I'm sorry, Slavian. That was too much too quickly. I underestimated their zeal. I did not mean to overwhelm you."

"Its not that." Slavian whispered.

He offered nothing more for the moment and we stood by as he eased his breathing. At last he rested his head back against the wall and looked up towards the sun. Nel'Andra looked between us and tapped his claws on a wooden box Slavian leaned against. The silence was punctuated by the bustling of the street and the business of the shop behind the wall, and whose logo adorned the wooden box in question.

"Have you been to Ref?" Slavian asked.

"No, I have not had the pleasure." I replied.

"You shouldn't. The land is as shitty as the people. There are two half-rings of mountains going through it, so most of the island is cliff faces. With the exception of ports and the guild fortress, every village is built on the cliff side with wooden shacks or carved out of the rock. Every inch of the valley and the scant rivers is used for food. Its a nation that somehow works with no laws, as if there is still an unwritten law designed in us somehow. It is unruly and cramped. I've been through worse than what these people did, times where I and Nel'Andra had to draw blood."

I stayed silent and listened. Slavian's next question surprised me.

"What kind of a man is my father?"

So that was it. He was conflicted.  He confronted his father with the belief one parent had killed another, and Aeterna denied it. Now he was hearing of people plotting against his father and others praising the same.

I licked my lips and considered the question. Slavian looked at me expectantly, making my answer all the more painful. 

What was I doing? Aeterna was my enemy and here I was trying to repair the damage between him and his son. I needed to stay focused and destroy him. Yet, even as much as that was necessary, I could not bring myself to bring that same animosity towards his son. 

"Your father is an enigma." I answered. "I don't know who he is. He has so many aspects, beliefs, even personalities that are in conflict that, I think, more importantly, even he doesn't know who he truly is. He is finding that out along with the rest of us."

Slavian nodded slowly, his brow scrunched. "How did you meet?"

"We met at a pre-party, if you can believe it. We had laughs and games. He was my friend. Then I met him again as my conqueror."

"Do you hate him?" Slavian asked, with such earnest it drew my breath.

Did I hate him?

Sure, I hated him. He was my enemy. But then so was Caius, and yet I bore no hatred for Caius. He was my brother.  But then, if it was about blood, I should hate Slavian as much as I hated his father. Slavian was blood of my enemy. Yet again, by contradiction, I despised my father. I disliked how much I despised him, but I did, and I could offer no excuse of blood relation like I could with my brother. Was blood the standard that decided if my enemy was hated or not? No, it was insuffient. Was the standard to be personal encounters? If so, I should hate him far more than Slavian who had never met him. Yet, it was the very lack of personal encounters that fueled Slavian's distaste. It was the opposite. Was it to be about sides over a conflicting issue? If so, I should have desired all the corrupt yes-men in my father's employ and the Aeterna should have never given any of his conquered subjects a second chance instead of accepting us into his Empire.

I recalled the conversation Aeterna had with my friend and former general, Bagon.

"Are we to be judged by the weight of your power as if your power, rather than us, condemns us? For things beyond our imagination?"

"No. I do not judge you as my enemy. The day I drew the line on the ground and declared myself the world's enemy, it is only right they consider me enemy in turn."

"So you condemn those who join you?"

"To betray the old world in joining me is not evil anymore than to love the old world in refuting me. I gave no reason to accept one over the other but inevitability. A choice must be made and the merits of that choice shouldn't be judged by something so weak as 'because there is a side'."

Where do I draw the line between someone whose choices are at odds with me and someone I hate? What did it even mean to hate someone?  What did it mean to hate? By what standard must I hate?  By what measure can I hate? If none, then can I hate? Is there even a reason to hate?

The world started to spin and I caught myself on the wall. I forced myself to let out the breath I had withheld and I remembered breathing is a necessity. Should probably continue doing that.

"I do not hate your father, Slavian." I concluded, both for him and myself. "I cannot hate him. We are in conflict, but conflict is not an unhealthy thing so long as we are talking.  It means we are actively searching for a peace we can agree on."

---

"Sir, you have a visitor."

Barjol lifted his pin and looked back. 

"Is she pretty?"

"'He' is important. He claims to be of the Numerenai Guild."

Barjol dipped his pin in ink, and returned to his work. "Everyone thinks they are important. Unlike them, I'm busy. Show him to the guest rooms. I will arrange to meet when I have time."

The servant left, only to come back soon after. "Sir, he insists."

Barjol sighed. "Have the guards escort him out. If he is going to be impatient, then he can find another businessmen."

The servant left, and again came back. "Sir, I did as you asked but-"

Barjol roughly scribbled out a word he misppelled and dropped the pin in the ink well. He asked tersly, "But what?" 

"He knocked out seventeen of your hired security and has threatened to blow up something. He said, and I quote, 'Leave it to your imagination.'"

Barjol sighed. "Some people are just that rude and insistent. Pay him no mind. Tell him I'm coming."

Barjol rose and adorned himself properly. He put on his second layer and his coat. He stepped into his fitted shoes. He shoved his hand into his jewelry box and pulled out a handful of rings to place on his tattooed fingers. He put his brush through his hair quickly and, after checking himself in the mirror and nodding in approval, departed.

He entered the lobby to find the Numerenai perched on the table eating one of his apples from a knife. The knife was marked with the head of a bull. On the table was a bow three meters long and a quiver of black arrows as large and thick as spears. The man himself was unremarkable save some white hair to mark him as a Numerenai and a cloth around his eyes.

All around the table were unconscious men.

"At last," The man muttered. "The lord of the manor obliges the children of the Aeterna with his presence. I'm honored to have been deemed... so lowly."

Barjol did not rise to the challenge. Rather, he asked, "And what service might I be to a Sleepless under the sun?"

"Answers to some questions of mine," He said.

"I see." Barjol stepped over an unconscious man. "Well, then why don't we see about answering them in less cluttered surroundings?"

"Fair enough, this is rather corpsy." The Numerenai grinned toothly, and, finishing his apple at once, dropped from the table.

The pair left the manor and went out into his garden lawn off the eastern bridge. It was a bright and glorious day with no clouds to be seen to shield sight from the four corners of Dyson. The three towers surrounding in sun as orb-holders shined as smooth marble, or something similar. The flowers were in bloom and the wind was gentle.

Seeking to smell one, Barjol plucked one and lifted it up.

"Sorry, but, I only I accept them from ladies. You're not pretty enough." The Numerenai remarked.

Barjol blushed, aghast. "This is not for you! How can you even see with that getup?"

"How?" The man echoed. "Why, you think this is enough to withhold my sight?"

The Sleepless removed the covering from his eyes and opened them, gazing directly at Barjol. His iris' swam and churned inside, expanding and condensing, at once a square large as a painting frame then a circle as tight as the end of a needle. Barjol reeled back, shuddering. He put a hand up defensively.

"You're a child of arayot! A hapalah karban!" Barjol cried.

"I'm surprised you know that. I was." The man answered. "Now I am the Bane of Moloch, the hand of the Eternal Emperor. You may call me Izthark. Now, if you are done prancing around and wasting everyone's time, perhaps you can get to what I came here for."

Barjol was frozen. Chills went down his spine at the man's gaze. Izthark stepped forward and Barjol stepped back into the garden wall. Izthark pressed in until they were eye to eye. Barjol felt himself drawn in and could not turn his eyes away from the man's mesmerizing gaze.

"A Ref lord called 'The Pain Artist' is selling weapons. I've seen almost all of it pass through your shipyard and out of your gates. What are you buying?"

"All manner of antiques from Kes! Axes, swords, spears, shields, some cannon powder, and the like."

Izthark's eyes twitched. Barjol cried, "Nothing illegal! There is a market for this stuff."

"What kind of a market?"

"Our military needs this stuff! Most of it pre-Empire was from Ire, and Ire hasn't been smithing them at the rate our borders need."

"Why would our military need it? We aren't at war."

"Not in any offical capacity, but there are bandits, pirates, warlords, rebels, terrorists, and other uncivilized scoundrels further out. Kes is overrun with them. Our governors in the east have been buying them up as quickly as I can acquire them!"

Izthark scrunched his brow. His eyes changed and Barjol was able to look away and compose himself again. 

On the surface this made sense, but the weapons were with the slaves. Both came from Kes. Why would Kes be both selling and buying them?

Izthark grabbed the man's attention again. He added his hand to the man's neck. He kept his hold gentle, but even the gentle touch was enough to make the Ne-Blood's eyes nearly pop out in terror. Every inch of his skin was parched in sweat. Izthark knew the spell his eyes brought on people, but this was more Barjol's own thoughts betraying him than Izthark's influence.

"Names." Izthark demanded.

Barjol didn't answer at first. His lips pressed together thin, but a slight squeeze was enough to make him gasp out. "Bajon, Caius-"

"Caius?" Izthark asked.

"Yes! Mostly him! By far! Almost all him!"

Izthark released his grip. He hummed in thought. It was true, Caius was a governor in Kes by the Emperor, but they hadn't heard from the man in almost the entire year since he was stationed and he was assumed dead. Soon he was to be replaced. In Caius' absence there would be an uncontested rebel problem, but then he wasn't absent if he was buying up weapons.

What was he doing?