Matabar

The last stone settled atop the cairn, and Ardan stepped back, pressing his fist to his chest before touching the back of his hand to his forehead. Cassara, standing beside him, said nothing. The vampire rarely spoke. In the month they had lived together in the former Ranger’s house with Yonatan’s unit, Cassara had uttered only a handful of words.

Ardi reciprocated the silence. Not only did he have no desire to talk to anyone, but he also felt no need to. What need does a prisoner have to speak with their captors, after all?

Sighing, Ardan bowed to the newly-erected grave of his grandfather, then to those of his father and grandmother, and then he returned to the stream and seated himself on its bank. He gazed downward at the boiling expanse of Evergale at the mountain’s foot and the endless prairies and steppes stretching out into the distance.

The wind whispered above him, rustling the newly green trees, and the birds sang songs to greet the long-awaited summer. It was filled with warmth, the scent of the sun, and sweet grasses. If one listened carefully and reached out to the sound…

"Don’t, Ard," Cassara’s voice slid through the air, silky and dangerous. "I’ll kill you before you can set foot on the Fae paths."

It didn’t sound like a threat or a warning, merely a statement of fact. It was the same as if someone else had said that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. And Ardan believed her. During his time as Ergar’s apprentice, he had spent enough time walking in the skin of a small predator to learn to recognize when someone stronger, more skilled, and far more ferocious was standing before him.

Cassara... She wasn’t exactly a predator. Or anything that could be measured by normal means. She was more like a force of nature — an event of extraordinary beauty and unparalleled danger, like a spring storm rolling through the mountains.

"You didn’t even let me say goodbye," Ardi whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

When he had first awakened a month ago, he had already been bound hand and foot in the Ranger’s house. For two days, they had come to him only to offer him some water and a crust of bread. And regardless of how much Ardi had shouted or pleaded with them, they’d ignored him. All he had been able to do was lie there and listen to the tales the soaring eagles had told him in the evenings about how Shaia, Erti, Kelly, and Kena had left, escorted by other Cloaks, toward Delpas. And how his mother had wept, occasionally glancing back at the peaks of the Alcade.

Then the vampire had come and freed him, and when the others had tried to stop her, well... What always happened in such situations had happened again. She’d laid a hand on the hilt of her saber, and all disputes had instantly ceased.

They feared her, and Ardan was no exception.

He had diligently studied under Atta’nha and had read many stories about vampires. Not one of them could walk in the sunlight. And yet here he was, bathed in the rays of a summer noon, with Cassara standing right beside him, showing no signs of turning into a pillar of white fire.

"Trust me, child, it’s simpler this way," the vampire said after a while. Her voice turned even the simplest of words into a melody. "You’re better off using this time to get accustomed to it."

"To what?"

She didn’t answer him immediately.

"To leaving without any goodbyes."

Ardi only shook his head. In his mind’s eye, the faces of his mother and brother appeared once more, and even Kelly and Kena were there with them. He hadn’t said anything to them. Hadn’t embraced them. Hadn’t promised he’d make it back, take them away, and…

By the Sleeping Spirits, it had been more than five years since he’d come down from the mountain. The years had passed… and what had happened during those years? How often had he sat and chatted with his mother, hugged her, and told her he loved her? How often had he agreed to his brother’s invitations to play, take a walk, or read some books together?

He could probably count the times on his hands.

Ardi chuckled bitterly.

What a fool he’d been…

He had been so certain that he had his whole life ahead of him, that there would be time. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after. And now… Now he didn’t know what the next day would bring.

"Maybe you could at least help me get my staff back?"

Cassara arched her left eyebrow slightly.

On the fourth day, he had managed to get back his few belongings, including his book on magic, his grimoire, and his staff. But the resulting joy and that small sliver of hope that he could escape had withered as quickly as they had blossomed.

Yonatan’s unit had its own Star Mage, Gleb Davos. He was a man in his forties with a broken nose, graying temples, and a foul breath. He wore a blue cloak and possessed three Stars with three, five, and two rays, respectively.

He’d made quite a scene when he had discovered that an unregistered mage was studying the art and even possessed a forbidden book on Star Magic — it was written in the language of the Fae, which was why he was so incensed. He’d even wanted to burn it, which had nearly caused a disaster, but once again, the vampire had intervened. In the end, it was decided that Davos would hold on to Ardi’s staff and books for the time being.

The "compromise" was not pleasant, but it wasn’t overly dangerous, either — Ardi’s own notes were also in the Fae language. And if Teacher Parnas was to be believed, specialists who were knowledgeable about the language of the Fae nobility were rare even in major universities.

That hadn’t stopped Gleb from possibly copying everything into his grimoire and then delving into the research himself.

"I don’t want to tempt you, Ard," Cassara winked at him, "I respect your defiance, but trust me, you’re more likely to get yourself killed than to escape. Believe me, you’re far from the most dangerous cargo they’ve ever caught and delivered."

"They… them…" Ardan repeated. "You speak as if you have no part in this."

Cassara turned away.

"No more," she said tersely, "than a wolf on a chain serves its master by choice."

Ardan stood and walked over to the vampire. Despite her barely reaching his chest, it felt as if he were standing at the base of one of the Alcade peaks.

"Then give me just a few seconds, and I’ll take the Fae paths- "

"Enough," Cassara interrupted him, her dead eyes flashing. "It’s pointless to try and convince me, child. If you attempt to escape, I will kill you. I won’t particularly want to do it, but believe me, I won’t lose any sleep over it, either."

Ardi sighed and turned away, heading for the edge of the plateau. Cassara followed, since she was acting as his personal guard.

After crossing the meadow and a thin strip of forest, Ardan emerged at the cliff’s edge and sat on the rocks, letting his legs dangle over the abyss. It was almost as if he was teasing the kilometer-deep chasm that awaited his first and only mistake.

And so he sat, listening to the wind, the birdsong, the whispering trees, and the laughter of the swaying grass stalks. All the while, he had to force himself not to listen too closely and not to tempt his heart with the thought of outwitting Cassara. Ergar would not have approved of such rashness.

"Have patience," the wise snow leopard had always said when Ardi had failed to execute his plans during a hunt.

But by the Sleeping Spirits, that accursed patience was hard to maintain. Especially when…

"She didn’t come today," the vampire noted.

Ardi said nothing.

She had come every day. First with Neviy and the others. Then just with Neviy. Then alone, and now… Now, noon had passed, and the sun had continued its eternal journey across the sky, and yet that golden hair visible even from the base of the mountain had not appeared.

Anna had used to come down there, pacing back and forth, trying to find a way up the mountain. From their vantage point, it had looked as if she were circling a well-trodden path, but to her, it had seemed different. Ardan had personally witnessed Gleb drawing the necessary seals on trees and stones, scattering them around the plateau. And while Ardi hadn’t understood exactly what Davos had been creating at the time, the fact that neither beasts nor Anna and his friends could find a way up suggested that it had been some sort of path-obscuring magic.

"What do you want from me?"

Cassara just shrugged and held her hat in place, preventing the wind from carrying it into the depths of the Alcade.

"I don’t know, Ard," she replied simply. "The mission is just to deliver you safely to the Metropolis." Then, with a scrutinizing look, she added, "As long as you don’t make us use force."

Sleeping Spirits…

"In this mission of yours," Ardan drawled, "there’s information about Kelly and Kena… and you knew about the problems Erti was having, so-"

"Calm down, hunter," the vampire chuckled and sat down next to him.

She smelled of damp and decay, and there was a heavy floral scent there as well, which couldn’t completely mask the essence of the living dead. Certainly not to a Matabar, even a half-blood.

"You’re overthinking things," Cassara continued. "In that, you’re like…" She swallowed words that had nearly escaped. "Sometimes, things are simpler than they seem. Our mission

involved only you and the old man. We didn’t even know exactly where you lived. Just the general territory. It took nearly half a year to find you. If not for a chance encounter with Sheriff Brian during a raid on some local bandits… His subordinates mentioned that their boss had quite a colorful family, and if not for their chattiness, we might have kept searching for you for just as long."

Ardan could sense when people were lying. It was a subconscious thing. Maybe he knew due to their heart rate increasing, their bodies sweating more, their pupils reacting oddly, or something else. If he were a full-blooded Matabar, he might have been able to describe his feelings better. But as a half-blood, he simply called it a "hunch."

And when it came to Cassara, his hunch was silent. Her heart didn’t beat. Her body didn’t sweat. Her eyes were like those of a fish, only red.

"The fire at the sawmill — was that your doing?"

"Gleb got a bit nervous," the corners of the vampire’s lips twitched into a smile, sending a chill down Ardi’s spine. So, this was what others felt like when he smiled. "He had a bad experience with Ley-monsters as a child. And at the sawmill-"

"A pack of three Ley-wolves appeared," Ardan interrupted her, already guessing how that chain of events had led to an avalanche of consequences.

The vampire nodded.

Ardan continued to stare at the slope. There, among the green grass, patches of wildflowers swayed. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but his heart felt as if they were bidding farewell to a comrade, and sending him off on a long journey.

"You knew my grandfather."

"Your grandfather?" Cassara repeated, then frowned slightly and nodded. "Your grandfather… yes. I knew him."

"How?"

The vampire looked beyond the horizon, momentarily reminding Ardan of his grandfather’s last days. He had looked out with that same gaze, seeing both the far distance of the real world and the depths of his own memories.

"Let’s go, child," the vampire stood and dusted off the hem of her leather cloak. Unlike the others, she never took it off. "It’s time. Today is the day of our departure."

Ardi had known this already. For some reason, Yonatan’s unit had waited a whole month at the Ranger’s house, and yet they had known the exact day and hour they would set out for the steppes from the beginning. And unlike his mother, Erti, and the others, they wouldn’t spend a few days in a carriage to get to the railroad. Their path didn’t lie strictly south, toward the lake upon whose shore Delpas stood. Instead, it led east, to the town of Presny.

The road was still under construction between these two towns, so the route that went through the prairies from the mountains to Presny was faster than going first to Delpas, then taking the ferry across the lake, and then riding again through the prairies.

"Cassara," Ardan called out to the vampire.

She stopped and turned to him with that same vacant expression.

Ardan didn’t take his eyes off her. The wind swirled around him, coming down from the northern peaks. It carried the echo of eternal ice and snow from the high peaks of the Alcade. There was enough of it that, in its whisper, one might hear the name of ice. Perhaps that would be enough to-

"Vampires can’t walk in the sun," Cassara said unexpectedly, stretching out her hand with its delicate, thin fingers. "We use a special cream, but it only protects us from burns. The pain," she clenched and unclenched her fist several times, "the pain doesn’t go away, child. At first, you’re angry about it. Then you get used to it. And then you forget about it."

"What are you trying to say?"

"You’re in pain and angry," the vampire hid her hand under her cloak and demonstratively turned on her heel. "That’s understandable. And you’re making plans to escape, to rid yourself of that pain — that’s understandable, too. But consider this: your… grandfather. He didn’t give his life so that you, even if you managed to escape, would spend the rest of your days on the run. Will you go to your family in Delpas? They’ll kill them too, Ard. Do you think you’ll be able to hide with them in the Alcade? If that were possible, you wouldn’t be the last of the Matabar bloodline."

Ardan wanted to scream. He wanted to call upon the ice and darkness, to charge into the Fae paths. He wanted to snarl in her face. He wanted to sink his claws into Yonatan’s throat, into Gleb’s, and all the others, too. He wanted to do so much… but… the vampire was right. These people weren’t simple bandits, and they certainly didn’t belong to the ranks of outcasts. Quite the opposite. Their papers bore official seals, their mage wore official regalia, and they treated the former Ranger’s house as if it were their personal property.

In other words, they acted like Kelly sometimes did, only on a much higher level.

By the second day, Ardi had realized that he was dealing with lawmen. Very strange ones, but lawmen nonetheless. And if that were the case, then standing behind them was the full power of the New Monarchy’s government apparatus.

"What do you want from me?" Ardan repeated his earlier question, and before the vampire could answer, he added, "And don’t say that you don’t know. Even if that’s true, you must have some guesses."

She remained silent. Ardan did as well. The wind danced between them, causing the grass to frost over.

"This is classified information for now, but the Emperor passed away three months ago."

The frost cracked, and Ardi swayed slightly. All the air was knocked from his lungs. Yes, His Imperial Majesty had been old, but not so old that-

"He had been ill for several years. They tried to treat him, but it was in vain."

Ardan tried to calm his racing heart, and though it wasn’t easy, he managed it eventually. No, he wasn’t particularly affected by the Emperor’s death. The New Monarchy relied primarily on the Three Chambers of Parliament and the Congress Government to maintain its rule. The Emperor, even though he held significant power and authority, wasn’t such a mighty figure that his fall would cause chaos.

The problem lay elsewhere.

The biggest issue was that Cassara knew of his death, and, apparently, so did the rest of her unit. This made them not just lawmen, but…

"You’re from the Second Chancery," Ardan’s throat went dry.

The Second Chancery was often the subject of newspaper stories. It was a special division serving directly under the Central Chamber of Parliament, an institution heavily dependent on the monarch. In historical terms, the Second Chancery was akin to the Emperor’s Warband — as they’d called it in Gales — or his Guard — as they’d called it in the western kingdoms that had become part of the Empire. But it didn’t fight wars, guard borders, or collect taxes. It performed more delicate work.

Dirty work.

The only thing that distinguished the Second Chancery from spies, assassins, executioners, bounty hunters, grave robbers, and other scum like them was the presence of a coat of arms and a license.

And that was why Cassara knew about the situation with the monarch.

"One of its divisions, yes," the vampire didn’t deny it. "If you’ll allow me to continue…"

She fell silent, waiting, and Ardan merely nodded.

"In the early days of autumn, the coronation of the Emperor’s eldest son will take place, and his wife will become the Empress Consort. It will be a grand celebration. Very grand. And at a celebration of such magnitude, people will expect not only spectacles, but also grand statements."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Cassara smiled again, but this time, it was without joy, even tinged with sadness.

"The Matabar were the first of the Firstborn to swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. Have you ever wondered why? Why did the Lord choose those who had the most in common with humans? Why not the oldest Firstborn — the orcs, dwarves and elves — instead, who, believe me, had far more reason to hate the human race?"

Ardan knew the history of the nation well. The Dark Lord’s rebellion had led to new reforms and transformations in the country, making it, if you didn’t look too closely and didn’t delve into the details, a place with equal rights for all races. But before that, things had been very different…

"My grandfather…" Ardan croaked, "Was he… Was he the Dark Lord?"

This question had haunted Ardi since he had come down from the mountain. His grandfather had possessed knowledge no ordinary Matabar, even a Listener or a Speaker, should have had. And then there were those artifacts in the shed. And the powerful magic that had been ready to respond to his grandfather’s slightest call like a loyal dog…

Cassara laughed. Until then, Ardan had never heard a sound that was more like the cawing of crows than the cawing of crows themselves.

"No, child," she rasped, wiping away bloody tears. "Your old man wasn’t the Dark Lord."

"Of course, he was born too late to..." Ardi sighed, recalling his own counterarguments to that theory. It had been nearly two hundred years since the rebellion, so his grandfather-

"He was his teacher."

Ardan felt as if the ground had vanished from beneath his feet.

"What? But then… then…"

"Aror Egobar was five hundred and seventy-four years old when he died, child," the vampire said softly. "And he wasn’t the Dark Lord. Nor was he your grandfather… he was your great-grandfather."

Ardi tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. Everything blurred before his eyes. His thoughts danced drunken, disjointed dances in his head.

"He was the one who taught the Dark Lord the magic of the Aean’Hane and the secrets of the Sidhe. He was the one who forged the Dark Lord’s sword from the darkest night and crafted him a staff from wood that had held the light of a star."

The Sword of Darkness and the Star Staff. They were just children’s nightmares, stories parents told to scare their little ones at bedtime. And… artifacts of immense power.

Artifacts that, all this time, had been stored in a small shed on the outskirts of the Alcade Mountains.

"And it was he who persuaded the Matabar to join the Lord," Cassara continued, each of her words striking Ardan like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. "And it was Aror who vouched for him before the council of the Firstborn rulers, allowing the Lord to speak to their peoples and call for rebellion against their oppressors and-"

"You were there!" Ardan suddenly exclaimed. "You were there…"

Cassara shot him a quick glance, and it was better than any answer.

The elves were the longest-lived of all the races. Emphasis on "lived." Vampires didn’t fall into that category, and all things being equal, they could exist for thousands of years.

"You seem to know little about your family, child," Cassara flicked her head, sending a cascade of snow-white hair flying, and flashed her crimson eyes at him. "When the Imperial enforcers arrived here, your great-grandfather didn’t have time to help your grandmother — his daughter… Hector’s mother. Why that is, I don’t know. But whatever happened, it twisted something in Hector’s perception, and instead of hating humans, he became a soldier in the army after a few years of wandering… Maybe, in some perverse way, he wanted to take out his anger on the human race, even if it was on foreigners. In the end, he fought on the border for a few decades, including that massacre thirty years ago committed against the Principality of Fatia. We crossed paths a couple of times, and… I don’t know, child. The Hector I knew was hard to distinguish from a simple human. It seemed like he hated his grandfather more for not being able to save their people than he hated humans themselves… I simply don’t know. I’m not good with matters of the heart, Ard. Mine stopped beating a long time ago."

"All of this sounds like one of my grandfather’s stories, but fine, okay," Ardi tried to find some kernels of truth in what he had just heard. "Let’s say I believe you, and my grandfather was actually my great-grandfather, but then…"

And he fell silent.

Memories of all the arguments between his father and gran… His great-grandfather surfaced. All their strange, unspoken words. All their grievances. Everything that had placed them on opposite sides of the divide. How fiercely his father had tried to raise his son as someone who knew nothing of the Matabar ways, and how equally fiercely his grandfather… great-grandfather had resisted those efforts.

"I have no reason to lie to you, child," Cassara approached him and raised her hand as if to place it on his shoulder, but stopped. "By the time we arrived in Metropolis in a month and a half, you would have found out everything anyway. At least now it won’t come as such a big surprise."

"Surprise" was not the right word for it. A surprise was when you were expecting a small gift for your birthday and received something you’d never thought you could have instead. But what he had just heard… No, this wasn’t a "surprise." How could the fact that his entire life had been nothing but deception, a mere facade hiding the truth from him, be called a surprise?

"But what does this have to do with me?"

"Initially, nothing," the vampire admitted. "His future Imperial Majesty wanted Aror Egobar to be present at the coronation ceremony as a symbol that peace had fully been achieved between humans and the Firstborn. He’d intended to offer him a pardon and amnesty. And honestly, I have no idea why Great Prince Pavel became so convinced in recent years that Aror was still alive. All this time, the old man was believed to be dead — killed in the same battle where the Dark Lord’s army was defeated."

Ardan remembered Teacher Parnas’ lectures about how, in the battle at the Fortress of Pashere, the forces of the New Monarchy had defeated the Dark Lord’s army and captured the man himself so they could publicly execute him. Unfortunately, during the battle, the youngest son of Emperor Gabriel VII, Great Prince Iacov, was also killed in action.

However, the authorities had never been able to find the Dark Lord’s artifacts, leading to the emergence of numerous myths and legends about them.

"But Aror, it seems, had already owed a debt to Death for a long time now," Cassara turned toward the Ranger’s house, its roof visible among the trees. "I can only guess why he needed to keep living for so many years, and I don’t even want to think about the price he paid for it."

"The price?"

"There’s always a price for Aean’Hane magic, child. And probably for Star Magic, too…" She glanced surreptitiously at her cream-covered skin. "But just a couple of months before we received the assignment, the future Emperor changed his position. He declared that the public appearance of the Dark Lord’s teacher could stir unnecessary… feelings among the Firstborn. So, he issued an ultimatum to Aror. Either he would leave on his own, or…"

"Or you would kill us," Ardan finished for Cassara.

He would never forget what Yonatan had said that fateful evening.

"It was nothing personal, child," the vampire shrugged slightly. "In exchange for his voluntary death, the crown promised to take care of your family under certain conditions."

"One of which was my mandatory presence in Metropolis."

Cassara turned to him and looked straight into his eyes. Ardan felt a shiver run down his spine once again.

"Presence? You still don’t get it, Ard? Why would the future Emperor want just your presence in the capital? You, the descendant of someone who played a significant role in the carnage that reshaped the Empire, and not in the way many humans would have liked? And more than that, a half-blood who holds the knowledge of the Aean’Hane…"

Ardi was beginning to understand where Cassara was heading with this.

"Tell me, child, is there anyone among your acquaintances or friends who might have leaked part of this information?"

"Among my acquaintances, no," Ardan spread his arms out, "and considering how far away from everything Evergale is…"

The vampire frowned.

"What about the one who came here every day? She seems like someone whose family has enough money and connections."

"Anna?" The very thought of it was absurd to Ardi. "She would never betray me."

Cassara muttered something in a language Ardan didn’t recognize.

"Men," she added in the language of the Empire. "If you only knew, child, how many secrets have been revealed by what a woman keeps between her legs, and where it all leads to... Remember this in the future: a secret remains a secret only as long as you’re the only one who knows it. In any other case, it’s just a knife you’re trying to keep away from your throat."

"That’s a rather grim outlook on life," Ardan remarked.

Cassara didn’t respond to that.

"Anyway, child, after we arrive in Metropolis and hand you over to the Chancery, remember this: never ask anyone for anything, and trust no one. Especially not the nobility, officials, or the moneyed sharks. Whatever they might promise you, they’ll deceive you. Whatever they offer you, the price you’ll pay for it will be far greater than you can imagine."

"I don’t think I have anything that would interest these gentlemen."

"Not yet," Cassara agreed. "But the fact that they’re planning to send you to the Imperial Magical University…"

The Imperial Magical University was the only higher education institution in the entire country where there was not only a Star Magic faculty, but where Star Magic was the main subject of study. It was a most prestigious institution, producing top-tier specialists every year. The competition for a scholarship exceeded a hundred and fifty applicants per available spot, and the cost of one semester, depending on the faculty, started at four hundred exes and only went up.

"And just so that it doesn’t seem like you’re passively following along like a sheep, or abandoning your family, and everything else that might cross the mind of a young, naive, and passionate youth," the vampire continued in the same tone Ergar had sometimes used when praising Ardi after a hunt, "as long as you cooperate with the crown, it will take care of your family. The best doctors for your brother, an excellent school for your sister, a prestigious job for your stepfather, and, mind you, a more than generous pension and support for your mother. They won’t want for anything, child. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll have to admit that life in Delpas under the crown’s wing and an endless struggle for survival in Evergale are two very different things."

"This feels more like a hostage situation."

"I’ve never heard of hostages being healed, child, or then given an excellent education, opportunities for work, and a life better than what nine out of ten residents of the Empire could hope for, not to mention being given a three-story mansion with a small garden. They won’t even be renting it or temporarily granted use of it. They will actually own it."

"Where did you-"

"Our colleagues, on Yonatan’s orders, handled all the paperwork themselves," the vampire shrugged. "They went around the establishments in Delpas, submitting petitions and personally receiving guarantees and signed orders from their leaders. Yonatan has a bit of a thing about never letting his words deviate from his actions. And if he promised Aror a good deal, he’ll break his back to keep his word."

Ardan turned back to the precipice. There, birds soared above the village roofs, flying into the vast prairies and disappearing among the clouds.

By the laws of the hunt, he should care for his pack, but… maybe Cassara was right? Maybe, by cooperating with the crown, he could indeed provide his family with a better life than just scraping by from winter to winter, breaking their backs, and risking their lives for a few exes ever could.

And Erti… The thought that his brother’s condition might worsen had sometimes kept Ardi and his mother up at night. And now, after all that concern, good doctors would be looking after him. And with the addition of the pension, Shaia wouldn’t have to spend her days and evenings at her sewing machine, doing monotonous, repetitive work, and she could finally start her own business.

She had always wanted to sew dresses and make costumes, not patch up pants, mend jackets, and stitch endless linens.

As for Ardi, well… Ergar had taught him that the leader of the pack wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, but the one who was willing to take on the heaviest burden and carry it without complaining or lamenting their hard fate.

Ardi would manage.

He always had.

"The new address of your family," the vampire handed him a small piece of paper, upon which Ardi read, "Foothill Province, Delpas, Stonemasons’ Street, 17." "So you can keep in touch with them. And if you behave ’well’ for six months, they’ll let you visit Delpas."

Ardan read it several times to ensure he wouldn’t forget the address even if something happened to the paper, then tucked it into his breast pocket.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"I had nothing to do with it. It’s one of the crown’s orders. Whatever you might think of them, Ard, the people in the palace offices are far from stupid, otherwise… Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation. It would be best to think of everything happening right now as you getting a well-paying job."

They fell silent for a while.

"Alright, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss this on the road, child," Cassara patted his shoulder. "Let’s go. On top of all his other tiresome qualities, Yonatan is very punctual. We’re leaving in forty minutes."

Ardan didn’t move, causing Cassara to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"If after everything I’ve just said you still think you have a choice, you’re either a complete idiot or you were dropped on your head-"

"Why are you helping me?" Ardan demanded suddenly.

For the first time, he saw a shadow of hesitation on the vampire’s face. However, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Vampires have had a rough time in both Ectassus and the New Monarchy, child," Cassara said in a flat, emotionless tone. "Aror wanted to change that. For me, that’s reason enough to help his great-grandson. Is that enough to get you to walk back with me on your own two feet? Or should I knock you out and carry you to the horses myself?"

Ardan still didn’t budge, and Cassara rolled her eyes — even after all the years he’d spent among humans, Ardi had never learned to understand this gesture — and even raised her hand as if to strike him, when suddenly, the young man struck his chest with his fist and then touched the back of his hand to his forehead.

The vampire froze.

"You made this gesture over my grandfather’s body," he said quietly. "What does it mean?"

Cassara silently turned away and headed toward the forest’s edge.

"You already know," she answered just as she reached the tree line.

Ardan did know.

He unclenched his fist and looked at it.

The Dark Lord’s banners had always borne a motto written in the blood of their vanquished enemies. A motto that, just over two centuries ago, had made the Firstborn take up arms to burn down the Empire. A motto that had become forbidden in the New Monarchy. Anyone who spoke it risked far more than just a fine.

And that motto went:

"Duty and honor," Ardan whispered, then sighed and followed after Cassara.

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