2412 Dalfa 03, Daleth

The sound of plants wilting at the expense of Jona's annoyance echoed in the room. He closed his eyes to take his mind off the twirls of vines turning brown at the edges and the lush leaves drooping under the influence of his synnavaim. He didn't want to wither the whole room nor let what little of his magic seep out of his system.

Jona massaged the bridge of his nose and turned to the aide seated behind an ornate desk as if she owned it. Even that was something the Royal court provided her, starting from this office with a magnificent view and a decent spattering of nature and hand-crafted elements. He couldn't even pester his father to get him an instant quiskle-maker in his quarters, much less his office.

And he couldn't function without quiskle in the morning.

"Look," he blew a breath. "I just want to know why I've been hearing reports of damages of this scale in Ansevir. This isn't what the terms in the agreement entailed."

The aide pushed her gold-rimmed spectacles up her nose, peering at him from behind the crimson-tinted lenses. How could she even see with those? "I don't have the right qualifications to answer your question, Your Grace," she said, addressing him in his rightful title, at least. "If you have issues with the contents of the agreement, you must take it up to the Heiress."

Jona scoffed. "And where is she?" he challenged. "She wasn't even here to sign that godsdamned treaty. At least send me to the Magistrate who facilitated it."

The aide, who went by the name Tepin Sadei as far as Jona was concerned, stuck a lip out. The sheafs of parchment atop her desk were most likely for show. With the help of the espionage division, Jona knew she was in Acosa not because she would be overseeing the implementation of the treaty, but rather, to spy on the Royal court. On them.

But he didn't want to send her away on the grounds of threatening the order of the court. No. He even petitioned the Grand Monarch to let Tepin stay. Because if there was something Eldan Rovalen taught him, it's to keep one's enemies close, and to never let them move an inch further from where one wanted them.

It made them stuck in this stasis of staying put and watching each other under different guises and intentions, until such time one of them made a mistake the other party could find useful in bringing them down.

Nevertheless, it didn't stop Jona from engaging Tepin directly with a hostile air. This was the fourth time he had to question the legitimacy of the terms in the agreement because of the reports coming from the cities, requesting his immediate attention. One was a poaching incident flagged by the Telsbury Natura. There were at least two cases of arson deep within the forests of Komery. There were also small issues within Acosa, Ardgate, and even Opreah. And according to the investigation carried out by the espionage division, most of the cases could be traced to the soldiers connected to Cardovia in some way.

Which meant the Heiress wasn't holding up her end of the deal, therefore nullifying their agreement.

That's why he had been trying to get a hold of the witch since then. This couldn't continue further. It was Jona's divine duty to make sure every blade of glass and strand of fur would be protected. As the Grand Royal, he was supposed to be coming up with ways to improve every life around him, and it's not limited to nature fairies. But with Cardovia running around and doing anything they wanted as if they had already conquered Dwanzeig, it has become harder to fulfill his duties.

Cardovia was like a colony of loubarb. Those parasitic worms had a habit of sticking into places the host wouldn't be able to detect. Sometimes, they were known to bore straight into the skin too. And once they've established their hold, they would suck the blood and magic out of the host until there was nothing left. Removing them could be quite a pain, and the more of them one had in their form, the faster the day the host would keel over and die would come. Some extreme cases even required amputation of the affected area, and if they're the scalp, it's considered a lost cause.

In short, Cardovia had no intention of letting Dwanzeig survive with their autonomy intact. It's up to Jona and the rest of the court in Acosa to cut off their infected limb before they lose everything.

Not to mention, he could feel it. One of the changes to his form after that fateful day in Gandirk included being so attuned to the state of life in Dwanzeig. So much so that he could feel a serodi's last breath somewhere in Komery and the silent suffering of a stalk of erphine in Ansevir. One could only imagine the pain that wracked his form when the Heiress let her people have their way on Dwanzeig's untouchable resources. If this continued, Jona might be meeting Pidmena earlier than anyone expected.

"The one who drafted the treaty was not a Magistrate," the aide replied after a period of nothing but giving Jona an acidic glare. "And I don't have the qualifications to send out a summon."

"Then what good are you?!" Jona screamed. A hand slammed down on the desk, and Jona leaned as far as he dared. His shadow fell over Tepin, but gods be damned, the aide didn't even flinch. Beneath the crimson tint of her glasses, green eyes narrowed in apprehension, and perhaps, triumph. She had pushed the Grand Royal into throwing a tantrum. She must have liked it.

Tepin cleared her throat and pushed her chair away, bringing her form farther than Jona could reach. "My answer stays the same, Your Grace," she said. "Only the Heiress can provide the answers you seek, and she will come when she feels like it. My only task here is to make sure Dwanzeig is fulfilling the terms."

How amusing. Jona's gut twinged into tight coils as he stepped back and resigned his case. Nothing would be done if he's upset. He needed to approach this with a calm mind. Then again, he had no idea when that would be, especially when the world around him was starting to fall apart, being ripped at the seams by two opposing forces fighting for dominance and wealth but winning neither.

"I apologize for taking up your time, then," Jona withdrew his hands to his sides and strode out of the room as fast as his high-heeled boots could carry him.

The corridors blurred as another stab of pain streaked from his spine. His teeth ground against each other, holding back the gasp building in his throat. He staggered to the nearest wall and braced it with a hand. Not again. He couldn't handle another report.

But the report would come; perhaps with bright red ribbons with it too. And Jona would have to storm into Tepin's office again, demanding an audience he would never get. His fingers curled inside his palm. He wanted to strike the wall, but the pain seared upward, gripping his chest, neck, and head. It wasn't going to stop there.

Jona stumbled forward, doing his best to swallow the discomfort and pretend it didn't scare the living shoots out of him. When he reached his room after taking a quick detour to avoid the most populated halls, he yanked at the cupboard door and swiped a vial from the topmost niche. With shaking fingers, he emptied it into his mouth. A bitter taste coating his tongue didn't make a difference to the bile climbing up his throat.

He braced the counter with both hands, breathing in and out. In and out. The pain subsided, dulled by the effects of the potion. It never left. At least, not completely. When the potion wore off, it vowed to come back with a vengeance.

Well, that's another day of not getting things done.

"You know it'll eventually kill you if you continue like that," a voice came from behind him. He whirled to find a man with sheared auburn hair rising from the edge of Jona's bed. Oh, it's just Nael. "Is it bad?"

Jona looked away, not feeling honest enough to meet his lover's eyes. "Porgon has little to no side effects," he said. "I'll live with a bit in my system."

"We both know I'm not referring to that," Nael answered. His tone was gentle but carried enough authority to make even a Grand Royal flinch. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap, as always," Jona peeled away from the counter when he was certain he wouldn't pass out and fall to his face. Nael had seen him almost on all his bad days, but still...

He pushed past the soldier and sank into the same place Nael had just left. It was still warm. He sighed and tucked stray strands of hair behind pointy ears. Where would he be if not for Namyel Soranal? It's both amazing and concerning how Jona couldn't remember how his life had been without Nael for so long.

They met a few years ago in one of Jona's visits to the elika keijuis' stronghold in Komery. He had been there for his regular rounds, and Nael had been part of the escort team the Governor sent out. Somehow, they started talking about everything and nothing. Nael was a good conversationalist, and Jona was left in awe at how he had stagnated in his rank at the Natura. He remembered the soldier shrugging when asked the question, claiming he had nothing better to spend his versallis on.

They kept in touch since that visit, and soon, Jona invited Nael to Acosa. One thing led to another, and here they were, three years later. Nael had been transferred to Acosa and has since then frequented Jona's quarters. No one brought it up as an issue, so they were in the clear. Jona doubted his father had anything against this arrangement either. The Grand Monarch had even thrown knowing glances at Jona every time their paths would cross and Nael was with them.

"We can't have that, can we?" Nael's soft voice brushed past Jona's scalp as he moved to wrap an arm around Jona's neck. He planted a quick kiss on Jona's forehead. "Maybe the Grand Monarch will be able to do something about it."

"No," Jona's answer had never been that quick. "My father already has a lot to deal with. I can't drop this on his shoulders too."

Nael retook his place next to Jona and shifted their position so that the soldier held the Grand Royal at arms-length. "You already have too much on your shoulders," Nael said. "I can't be the only one who has to know what you're going through."

Jona exhaled through his nose. "I'll think about it," he said. A total lie on his end, but it might be what Nael needed to hear now. "Just...not now. Not when I can't even solve my problems on my own."

A crease appeared in the middle of Nael's eyebrows. "How did it go with the aide?" he asked. "Bad?"

"What else can we expect?" Jona answered with a flat smile. "I need to summon the Heiress directly, and I've no idea how."

Nael lowered his hands from Jona's shoulders, noting how Jona flinched from the sudden movement. "If she won't come to you," the soldier mused. "Then, you can make her."

Which was why a few hours later, long after he had caught up on the sleep he lost last night due to work keeping him, Jona trudged through the forest where the most recent arson report pointed to. Ixy cawed from the canopies, seemingly sensing the coiled tension in Jona's gut and the brewing storm of pain in his limbs. Nael, bless his heart, seemed to know Jona needed that brief rest after insisting on it.

The boisterous voices of the Natura bled past the thick hurdle of the undergrowth. Jona, without using an ounce of his magic, pushed through the swirl of branches, leaves, and vines. It spat him before a clearing where at least ten people clad in black sat on their haunches while surrounded by armed soldiers. Twine wrapped around the Cardovic soldiers' arms, and their whining could be heard fighting against the Natura's warnings.

"Agreement or no agreement, the Heiress said we can use this land for our training," the man farthest down the line from Jona's vantage point said. He squirmed against his bonds to no avail. After all, the Natura was known to use only the strongest variant of warvone silk threads for their ropes. "That's all we did. We tried the spells we learned. One spell malfunctioned. Next thing we know, we're getting jostled around like a fripping herd. Where's justice in that?"

"Justice lies on whether you understand Dwanzeig's laws," Jona spoke, startling not just the captured heathens, but the Natura as well. "Did you know the Grand Royal is authorized by law to eliminate anyone caught in the act of violating them?"

The man in the front scoffed. "Who is this twig?" he asked. "What makes you think you can hurt me?"

A huge thorn sprouted from the ground in a flash, missing the man's nose by mere millimeters. Jona's magic hummed from beneath his skin, weak but good enough to provide a little scare. He stalked towards the prisoners, letting his heels clack in the hollowest way against the ash carpeting the once lush ground.

"I can make you bleed," Jona bared his teeth in a heartless smirk. "And I can kill you. Without raising a finger."

Fear danced in the man's eyes. He opened his mouth—to beg for his life or spout more nonsense; Jona didn't really care. Another thorn broke through the surface and aimed for the man's face.

"Stop," a woman's voice speared through the air, carrying enough authority to freeze the thorn and Jona's magic. The sharp tip remained a few inches away from the man's chin. "Let them go. It's me you want."

Jona hid his smile. Of course, Nael's idea would work. She needed her soldiers more than ever as the war dragged on for as long as it did. She couldn't stand losing some to stupid reasons such as getting caught vandalizing random forests. Of course, Jona didn't plan on making good on his threat, but if she was to take him seriously, he had to act as if he would.

He straightened and faced the woman in a rigid coat and tight breeches. "Good day to you, as well," he said. "Heiress."