Page 24

R epresentative Seagrave met us in her private study, a room that embodied the Craiggybottom ethos. Practical furnishings stood alongside rare treasures from distant shores. Maps covered one wall, charting trade routes across known seas. The opposite wall displayed weapons of diverse origins, each telling its own story of cultural exchange. Unlike the traditional clan leaders who dripped with jewels and ceremony, Seagrave wore simple clothing that spoke of function over ostentation. Only the quality of the fabric and the subtle embroidery of her house's sail and star emblem betrayed her status.

"Lord Consort. This is an unexpected honor. And General Niro. I had hoped you would find your way to us."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Representative. Especially given the risk," I replied.

She straightened, her weathered face creasing with a smile. "Risk is the foundation of worthy enterprise, Lord Consort. It's why the Craiggybottoms have prospered while others merely endure." She gestured to comfortable chairs arranged around a low table where a simple meal awaited. "Please, sit. You look as though you've traversed the thirteen hells to reach us."

"Nearly so," Niro commented dryly, accepting the offered seat with the careful movements of a man who hadn't properly rested in days.

"You've seen him?" Seagrave asked as servants poured warm spiced wine. She dismissed them with a gesture, ensuring our privacy.

"Briefly. He's alive, though they've treated him poorly. Tarathiel means to make a spectacle of his execution."

"Unless we prevent it." She leaned forward, eyes sharp with intelligence. "The Primarch believes tomorrow's vote is merely procedural. He expects the Assembly to rubber stamp his son's execution with the appropriate ceremonial gravity."

"Yet you have doubts," Niro observed.

"More than doubts." Seagrave smiled, the expression carrying the confidence of a merchant who knew she held a winning hand. "I have certainties."

She rose and moved to a locked cabinet inlaid with pearl and abalone. From it, she withdrew a sealed scroll. "Our formal declaration for tomorrow's session, reconfirming House Craiggybottom's unwavering position. We continue to stand with Ruith Starfall. Publicly and without reservation."

"Your early support for Ruith has cost your clan," I said, acknowledging the risks they'd already shouldered.

"And will probably cost us more before this ends." She gestured to the map covered wall. "But make no mistake, Lord Consort. The traditional houses would eliminate us without hesitation if they believed they could manage without us. Our survival has always depended on disrupting the status quo."

"Tomorrow's Assembly vote may not go as Tarathiel expects," Niro said thoughtfully. "The Wolfhearts waver, Redrock hesitates..."

"We're still short of the majority needed," I reminded them, counting the houses in my head. "Even with Stoneriver, that's only four houses against Tarathiel's five. Deepfrost, Longclaw, Seashore, Ivygrass, and Turtlefall."

"Which leaves the vacant Duskfell seat and the Runecleavers in chaos following Vinolia's death," Seagrave summarized. "A delicate balance indeed."

A knock interrupted our strategic conversation. Maelis entered with uncharacteristic haste, her composed demeanor showing cracks of excitement. "Representative, forgive the intrusion, but riders have arrived claiming to represent King Ruith's coalition forces. They request an immediate audience."

My heart leapt. Could reinforcements have reached D'thallanar already?

"How many?" Niro asked, hand moving instinctively to where his sword would normally hang.

"Just three. They claim to be advance messengers for their main force."

Seagrave glanced at us, seeking guidance. I nodded once, hope rising despite my caution. "Let's hear what they have to say."

Minutes later, the door opened to admit three travel worn figures, still dusted with snow from the roads. The leader threw back his hood, revealing golden curls that caught the lamplight like a captured sunrise.

"Katyr," I breathed, rising from my chair.

A sound of disbelief came from Niro that I had never heard from the composed commander before. Something between a gasp and a sob. He stood frozen, staring at Katyr as though afraid he might disappear if approached.

Katyr's eyes found Niro first, widening with recognition, with relief that went beyond words. In an instant, the careful composure he normally maintained shattered completely. He crossed the room and pulled Niro into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the older elf's neck and clinging to him as if afraid he might vanish.

"I thought I'd lost you," Katyr whispered, his voice breaking with emotion usually so carefully controlled.

"Never." Niro's arms wrapped around him with equal fervor. "I promised I would find my way back to you."

They held each other for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, the world around them forgotten. Then Katyr placed his hands on either side of Niro's face and kissed him with a desperate intensity that spoke of weeks of fear and longing.

When they finally separated, Katyr seemed to remember where they were, his eyes finding mine. A flush colored his cheeks. "Forgive the breach in protocol, Lord Consort. I should have greeted you first."

"There's nothing to forgive." I moved forward, clasping his arm. "Some bonds transcend formality."

Katyr smiled, relief washing over his features before he pulled me into an embrace of his own. "Thank the gods you're alive, Elindir. When we heard about Homeshore..."

I returned his embrace with equal fervor, suddenly understanding how much we had come to mean to each other through our shared love for Ruith. We weren't just allies; we were family now, bound by something deeper than blood or politics.

The second figure lowered his hood, revealing Aryn's silver hair gleaming like moonlight, his ice-blue eyes as coldly beautiful as ever. But there was something different in his expression as he regarded me. A warmth, subtle but unmistakable, that I'd never seen directed my way before.

"You made it."

"So did you," I replied, offering my hand.

He ignored the formal gesture and instead pulled me into a brief but fierce embrace. Coming from Aryn, who rarely touched anyone willingly, the gesture left me momentarily speechless. He released me quickly, almost embarrassed by his own show of emotion.

"I told Ruith you would survive. I told him nothing could keep you from his side for long." A rare, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "It seems I was right."

The third figure remained hooded, lingering near the door until Aryn gestured him forward. "Daraith was instrumental in our journey here."

With slow movements, Daraith removed his covering, revealing his somber features, silver Silfein tattoos catching the light with an otherworldly gleam.

"The necromancer," Representative Seagrave murmured, making a subtle warding gesture that didn't escape my notice.

"My friend and ally," I replied firmly. "And a man who has saved both Ruith's life and mine. He deserves our respect."

Daraith inclined his head slightly, the closest he came to acknowledging compliments.

"The Duskfell seat stands empty in the Assembly," Aryn said, moving to stand beside Daraith. "It's time it was filled by someone with proper standing."

Aryn had positioned himself at Daraith's side, slightly protective yet deferential. There was a connection between them I hadn't noticed before, something beyond mere alliance.

"Daraith, as the last living heir of the Duskfell bloodline, has the authority to appoint a representative," Seagrave said. "Whom will you name to the empty seat?"

A moment of silence followed her words. Then Aryn straightened, something almost defiant in his posture. "I will represent House Duskfell in the Assembly tomorrow. By right of marriage to its last living heir."

The room fell utterly silent. Niro seemed caught off guard by this revelation, and Seagrave's eyes widened in surprise.

"Marriage?" I echoed, looking between Aryn and Daraith with newfound understanding.

Daraith's expression remained impassive as he stepped forward. But then he did something I'd never seen before. He reached out and took Aryn's hand in his, their fingers intertwining with practiced ease. The gesture spoke volumes, making it clear this was no mere political arrangement.

A faint flush colored Aryn's pale cheeks. He glanced away briefly, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"A private ceremony. By the old rites," Daraith explained, his voice as calm as ever despite the intimate gesture. "As clan head, I've appointed Aryn to speak for our interests."

Katyr nodded with quiet approval, a knowing smile on his face. "I told you they'd need to know eventually, brother."

"It wasn't relevant to our mission," Aryn replied, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "It changes nothing about our duties or allegiance."

"It changes everything about your standing in the Assembly," Seagrave corrected, studying them with new interest. "Marriage into the Duskfell bloodline gives you a legitimate claim to representation. It's unorthodox, certainly, but legally sound."

"Congratulations are in order then," I said, unable to keep a smile from my face at Aryn's obvious discomfort with the sentiment.

"It's not a big deal," he muttered, though the way he kept his fingers entwined with Daraith's contradicted his casual tone. "The marriage makes me a member of Clan Duskfell, but the appointment is what matters for tomorrow's vote."

"Indeed," Niro agreed, though he too seemed pleased by the revelation. "Still, it's good to see happiness found even in these dark times. What news from our forces?"

"And how did you find us?" I added. "We've kept our presence in the capital carefully hidden."

"We didn't come looking for you specifically," Katyr admitted. "After Ruith's capture, we gathered everyone we could and marched on D'thallanar. The Craiggybottom clan house was our planned rendezvous point given their known loyalty."

"Finding you here is a gift from the gods," Aryn added. "Though perhaps not entirely unexpected, given your devotion to Ruith."

"Our forces?" Niro prompted again.

Katyr's expression grew serious. "After receiving news of Ruith's capture, we gathered everyone we could. Calibarra stands with only a token defensive force now. Hawk trains recruits from among the former slaves, preparing for the worst. The rest march on D'thallanar."

"How many?" Seagrave asked.

"Nearly five thousand. Not just Runecleavers, though many rallied once word spread of Vinolia's death. Stoneriver sent eight hundred of their finest archers. Northfire contributed mages. The loyal Wolfhearts marched with us as well."

"Five thousand," I repeated, the number sending a surge of hope through me. "Where are they now?"

"Divided into companies surrounding the capital," Aryn explained. "Positioned to avoid triggering alarm but able to converge within hours if needed. We've established signal points on each major approach."

"Our preference is for political victory," Katyr emphasized, looking toward Seagrave. "Military action remains our last resort. But the army's presence changes the balance of power, even if Tarathiel doesn't yet know the full extent of our forces."

"There's more," Aryn added. "A messenger reached us yesterday. Ieduin rides south with three thousand Yeutish warriors."

I frowned. "Three thousand? I thought Khulan promised five."

Katyr nodded. "He did, but I’ll take what I can get, especially since Kudai himself leads the force."

"Kudai comes personally?" The Yeutish rebel king was known for his reluctance to leave his northern territories. His direct involvement signaled a massive shift in northern politics.

"Apparently, Ieduin can be very persuasive,” Aryn said.

"The Yeutish forces should reach D'thallanar within three days," Katyr continued. "Not in time for tomorrow's vote, but soon enough to support whatever follows."

Seagrave leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "Eight thousand warriors at our disposal, between your approaching forces and the Yeutish. That shifts the balance considerably."

"And gives Lady Redrock additional incentive to reconsider her position," Niro observed.

"What news of Captain Yisra?" I asked. "Did she make it back to Calibarra after Homeshore?"

"She returned with most of her crew," Katyr confirmed. "They brought the news of Michail's invasion. She's since rallied ships from the Craiggybottom fleet and has been harassing Michail's supply lines along the coast. The human zealot finds his advance more challenging than anticipated."

Relief washed through me. I'd feared the worst for Captain Yisra and her crew since our escape from Homeshore's walls.

"And the boys?" I asked, unable to keep the question contained any longer. "Leif and Torsten?"

A genuine smile transformed Katyr's face, softening his features. "They're well. Frightened for you both, of course, but resilient. Torsten has appointed himself Master Gracin's official apprentice. The old blacksmith pretends to be annoyed, but anyone can see he's delighted by the boy's enthusiasm."

"And Leif?"

"Leif has become something of a leader among the children," Aryn said, respect evident in his tone. "When new refugees arrive, he's the first to welcome them, to show them where to sleep, how to navigate the fortress. He organizes the other children to help newcomers feel safe. Captain Hawk has started training him with a practice sword. Says he's never seen such focus in one so young."

Pride swelled in my chest, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Those boys, who had endured so much, were thriving despite the uncertainty that surrounded them. They were becoming the people they were meant to be, free of the collars that had once defined their existence.

"What of Calibarra itself?" Niro asked. "You mentioned a token defensive force."

"Queen Taelyn commands. With Hawk as her military advisor and the Empress of Bones providing additional support from the Spine tribes. The fortress remains secure, though supplies dwindle under the magical winter."

"Have the storms relented since Vinolia's death?" I asked.

Aryn shook his head. "Some of her battle mages maintain them, though with less intensity. They recognize the strategic advantage her winter brings, even without her direct control."

"The Assembly vote tomorrow remains our most immediate concern," I said, forcing myself to focus. "Who will represent the Runecleavers now that you lead them?"

Katyr's eyes moved to Niro. "If he's willing, I would name General Niro as my clan's representative. There's no one I trust more to speak for our interests."

Niro bowed his head. “I would be honored to represent Clan Runecleaver’s interests in the Assembly.”

"We still need one more vote beyond those we can count on," I reminded them. "Redrock remains our best hope."

"Lady Redrock is pragmatic above all else," Seagrave offered. "She'll support whichever side appears stronger in the moment. Our challenge is to convince her that Ruith's faction holds the advantage, despite his current chains."

"She's also deeply traditional," Niro cautioned. "Her support for a king who would end slavery and elevate humans to equal status cannot be assumed."

A heavy silence fell. Katyr finally broke it, his voice thoughtful. "Perhaps we're approaching this incorrectly. Lady Redrock's traditionalism might actually work in our favor."

"How so?" I asked.

"The ancient laws," Daraith murmured, understanding dawning in his eyes. "The ritual of royal challenge."

Katyr nodded, excitement growing in his expression. "Exactly. Ruith completed the sacred hunt. He took the heart of Vargulf himself and survived the ritual king marking. By the oldest traditions, his claim to kingship stands on firmer ground than Tarathiel's."

"Tarathiel never completed the ritual hunt," Aryn confirmed. "He took power through political maneuvering and force, not sacred ceremony. It's why he styles himself 'Primarch' rather than 'King.' A distinction that matters greatly to traditionalists."

"And you believe Lady Redrock would find this argument compelling?" I asked, hope kindling in my chest.

"She worships the old ways," Seagrave confirmed. "Her clan maintains the most ancient rituals, some dating back to the First Dynasty. If anyone would be swayed by appeals to sacred tradition, it would be her."

"Then I must speak with her tonight. Before Tarathiel's agents can reach her."

"Not alone," Niro insisted, stepping toward me. "The Primarch's forces patrol the city. If you're discovered..."

"I'll go with him," Aryn offered. "My skills ensure we won't be detected." The former Shikami assassin's confidence wasn't misplaced. If anyone could navigate D'thallanar's streets unseen, it was him.

"I'll prepare the official documentation for your appointments," Katyr decided. "The seals must be flawless to withstand scrutiny."

Seagrave nodded approvingly. "I'll dispatch messengers to our forces. They should be prepared to move at dawn if the Assembly vote goes against us."

As our impromptu council broke into purposeful activity, I felt a surge of something I had almost forgotten during our desperate journey. Hope. Real tangible hope. We were no longer alone in our fight to save Ruith. An entire coalition moved in concert now, each piece contributing to the larger strategy.

Before we could separate to our tasks, Katyr caught my arm, drawing me slightly aside. "One more thing, Elindir. The boys made something for you and Ruith." He reached into his robe and withdrew a small object wrapped in a soft cloth. "Leif insisted I bring it. Said it would protect you both."

He placed the bundle in my palm. Unwrapping it carefully, I found a small carved wolf, its head thrown back in an eternal howl. The craftsmanship was simple but surprisingly effective for a child's work, especially given the limited tools available to them.

"Torsten helped."

My throat tightened as I traced the small figure's outline. These boys, who had endured slavery, who had witnessed cruelty beyond imagination, had somehow preserved enough hope to create this gift. To believe we would return to them.

I carefully tucked the carving into the inner pocket of my borrowed robes, close to my heart. "We'll bring Ruith home to them. Whatever it takes."

Katyr nodded, no doubt in his eyes. "Whatever it takes."

As we separated to our tasks, I caught a glimpse of Niro and Katyr by the hearth, their foreheads touching in an intimate gesture, hands clasped between them as they savored a moment of reunion. Across the room, Aryn stood with Daraith, their shoulders barely touching, a subtle connection that spoke volumes about the private bond they shared.

These were the people Ruith had gathered around him. Not through conquest or coercion, but through vision and shared purpose. People who had found connection and purpose that transcended blood, tradition, even nature itself.

Outside, D'thallanar had fallen into the hushed anticipation that precedes execution days. The city held its breath, waiting to witness the spectacle of a fallen prince facing his father's judgment. But beneath that surface, counter currents moved in darkness. Messages passed between allies, troops positioned themselves beyond the walls, and in the Craiggybottom compound, a resistance took shape.

As Aryn and I slipped into the night, the small wolf carving pressed against my heart, I knew tomorrow would forever change the fate of both our peoples. One way or another, the world would be remade. Either through Ruith's sacrifice or his salvation.

I would not permit the former. Not while I lived.