It was a quiet, overcast day when the column arrived with Father Brenan, priest and healer of the Alaiîn Order, a pillar of Nikadîon's community, and long-time friend of both King Zhevakôs and Prince Aharôs. It was strange that a harmless, windswept old man could cause so much nervousness for her. Perhaps it was not the result of him, but rather what his arrival meant.

It was time for the old King to pass, and a new one to rise.

“You're sure about this?” Brenan asked, cutting right to the point upon reaching the Prince in Vatherîon.

“Yes.” Nodded Aharôs. “I've waited long enough now, there's no sense in waiting any longer. It's as good a time as any.”

“Very well.” The priest nodded. “We'll commence at sunset.” Tempest knew what they were about to do today, it made her uncomfortable. Even after ten years, there were still elements of culture in Sarathûl that didn't sit right with her.

“It'll be good for you to see this.” Aharôs told her.

“Alright...” Tempest said, unsure.

“It's better you see it now than later. I hope you are never in this situation, Tempest, but... Well, I don't think the two of us aren't known for being lucky.” You can say that again.

She had a late breakfast with Snowy, both were uncomfortably silent for awhile, and for different reasons.

“C-can you feel it too?” Snowy finally asked.

“I feel a lot of things.” Answered Tempest. She tried to balance a cup of water between her forehooves, a task that never seemed to get any less difficult.

“Something's not right.” Her companion quietly stated. “I- I don't know what, but something isn't right.”

“Not much is right in the world.” Commented the blue-grey pegasus, who had at last conquered the cup of water. “Today shouldn't be any different.” Snowy gave her an unamused look.

“Your wisdom is unmatched.” She dryly replied.

“Look, we're both on edge, we both know what they're going to do.” Tempest started to say.

“It's not- it's not that. It's something else.” Her companion cut her off, shaking her head.

“Whatever you say...” The nervous silence returned. If I'm getting this wound up, I wonder how Aharôs is doing... One thing was true about the Prince: he was a master of deception when it came to what was going on in his head. Hours passed by, and Tempest was summoned by Sir Turaz.

“It's time for supper.” The knight announced plainly. “Lady Farpeak, you may attend if you choose, but it is your choice.” That was unusual, normally no one took Snowy's opinion into account. She looked to her Queen for direction.

“She'll come.” Stated Tempest.

“I'll come.” Snowy agreed quietly. Turaz nodded, and moved off. It was odd to see him not in armor, but she was getting used to it. This evening, supper was not in the usual place. Aharôs had closed off one of the medium-sized dining halls, but there was no one there but the two pegasi, the Prince, the Knight, and Brenan the Priest. Aharôs wasn't at the head of the table, either.

“It's a different setup, I know.” He explained. “Traditionally, this meal would be held with family members, but considering how I'm the only Loiar within several hundred miles... Well, it would not be proper to eat alone on such an occasion. Sit.” All present sat. Tempest noted all the empty chairs, including the vacant one at the head of the table.

“Alas, that none of them are here.” Brenan remarked.

“Perhaps.” Replied Aharôs, softly. “Perhaps not.” Supper was not a complicated affair. They had bread, grains, soup, and some cooked meat of some sorts for the humans. Tempest and Snowy stayed quiet. Her companion didn't seem to be eating much at all, a very uncharacteristic action for her. Turaz was quiet as well; it was Brenan who was doing most of the talking, retelling anecdotes about the King.

“Now, Aharôs, you were probably too young to remember this, but there was an incident where Zhevakôs had to lay siege to Nikadîon of all places.” Brenan said, in an amused tone. “We thought it might have been a rebel lord, but it turned out it was just Prince Heranôs upset over some argument!”

“How did a an eight year old take over Nikadîon?” Asked Turaz, breaking his silence. “More importantly, how did he convince the garrison to go along with such a foolery?”

“I haven't the slightest idea, the King never talked about it much after that, and neither did Heranôs...” The Priest trailed off in thought. “What I remember vividly is the King standing at the gates swearing up a storm that would make a Karthâ veteran flinch. Heranôs didn't seem to care... Until the King threw up a grappling hook and scaled the battlements himself!” Tempest had to wonder how that situation was resolved. I doubt my mother would have let me get away with such nonsense. Would she have? It was painful to admit she didn't actually know. Brenan talked on about the King's life.

Zhevakôs took the throne at a young age. A defining moment of his life was a trip to Ar-Athazîon, where he gained the favor of the then-child Emperor Katastanîôs, who sanctioned his early efforts of unifying most of the Vûrdasha. It had taken many years of careful political maneuvering, but Zhevakôs arranged for various minor states to swear fealty to Athair. From that point on, efforts began to snowball; culminating in Zhevakôs leaping for a once-in-a-century chance of claiming another kingdom by birthright, rather than having it default to Imperial rule until a new King could be put on the throne. The other kingdom was Verâd. There had also been a minor but unprecedented event of Zhevakôs dispatching a contingent of troops to the Kingdom of Highcrest in Equestria in support of Maelstrom Blackwind, breaking over thirteen hundred years of mutual non-interference between the two continents. No doubt, the reign of Zhevakôs the sixth had seen great success and triumph, raising a nigh-forgotten realm to glory.

“It sounds like he's had a pretty good life.” Tempest finally spoke up.

“That it does.” Agreed Aharôs. “They'll remember him forever.”

“A pity it has to end like this.” The pegasus said.

“A pity? No.” Brenan shook his head. “Far from it.”

“But- You're going to-” She stopped herself. “I don't get it. I've never gotten it, I don't get it, and I don't like it. It's not right.” Snowy gave her an uneasy look, and Turaz raised a brow.

“Well, it's obvious you don't understand-” Aharôs started to speak, but the Priest raised a hand, and turned back to the pegasus.

“Tempest, there are few things more precious than dignity in this world.” Brenan began, now quite somber. “You can take everything else from a man by force, but only he can consent to you taking his dignity.” The blue-grey pegasus opened her mouth, but Brenan continued on. “When death's coming is certain, be it for a soldier too wounded to save, or for an elder losing control of their mind and body, we grant them a quick, peaceful, and dignified end. To further draw out such pain and misery would be pointless; even malicious. It may seem cold and cruel to you Equestrians, but to us, it is one of the greatest kindnesses there is.”

“But... You don't know if they're too far gone! They could still live!” Protested Tempest, frustrated that she couldn't actually articulate what she felt.

“Is life so precious that you would preserve it for even a few painful moments longer, no matter the cost?” Brenan asked her, without any hostility.

“I...” Her ears laid flat. I don't know, she could have said, but she didn't. The truth of the matter was, Tempest would have done anything just to have one day more with her mother. Even just an hour more. The notion that such a thing meant nothing to the humans was appalling on the most basic level. But, she would never any of admit that to them.

“I don't disagree with it.” Snowy quietly remarked in the silence.

“No surprise there.” Replied Brenan, with a smile.

“I'm surprised.” Turaz said. “Lady Farpeak always seems to follow what her Queen says.”

“Th-this is different...” The beige pegasus said back, almost looking at the knight. And so supper went on, with Tempest not saying a single word more. She tried to imagine how Aharôs was coping with what they were about to do. As much as she tried, Tempest failed to see just how he was. It didn't make sense! She would have given up all of Highcrest for Maelstrom, and here Aharôs was, getting ready to toss away his father's life like it was the scraps of a meal going to the pigs. The situation was simply beyond her reasoning. Before she knew it, supper was over.

“Well...” Brenan said, breaking another moment of quiet.

“Let's go.” Stated Aharôs, in a detached tone.

“My prayers to the King, for a swift journey.” Turaz said solemnly.

“And m-mine, too.” Added in Snowy. The Prince of Athair nodded without another word, gesturing for Tempest and Brenan to follow. Before leaving, the Priest took up a small box in his hands, and brought it with him. The dim halls of Vatherîon were deserted, and they met no one else as they traveled to the King's chamber. They arrived to find but two guards, their faces masked by visors even indoors. Inside was the King; and when the door closed, the three were alone with him. She didn't know if the humans could smell it, but the scent of death seemed to be lurking in the air.

Aharôs went forward and looked down on his father. Or the man that had once been his father. Or the shell that had once been a man.

“I'm here.” He said, quietly. “It's me, Aharôs.” Tempest kept back. The King looked was far worse than she had imagined. “Do you remember who I am?” The King's skull-like face stared blankly into the distance; it was as if he couldn't even hear his son. “I guess you don't.”

“Just give the word when.” Brenan said quietly. Aharôs gave no indication he heard him.

“How curious,” Aharôs spoke to no one in particular, “that one so mighty could be laid so low. Perhaps it is the Lord of Heaven reminding us that we are only mortal men. Perhaps it is the powers of the beyond undoing what the Lord of Heaven made good. What affliction steals the mind, though?”

Neither pegasus nor Priest could answer the question.

“It is a strange thing, that something as simple as losing one's memory can defeat even the greatest warrior.” Continued Aharôs, in a calm that threatened to break at any moment. “Not defeated in the field, but defeated in the mind. Brought down from within... How very human. I think it is the former of my options at work. God does not want the likes of us thinking ourselves beyond mortality, so it takes from us the most simple, basic thing we have. How curious...” Aharôs repeated himself.

He took a step back from the bed.

“In life, you were strong, brave, just. The very model of a King. Not just any king, your people's King. That was your life.” The Prince turned away, to the lone window in the room. “But this is not life.” He waved Brenan toward him.

“My Prince?” Asked the priest quietly. Tempest flicked her tail nervously at the sight of the little box in his hands.

“It is time.” Aharôs stated.

“Ah.” Replied Brenan, his face falling a little. He looked at Zhevakôs. “Who will..?”

“I will.” The Prince said firmly. The old priest opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced immediately. “He was your friend, but he was my father. This duty is mine alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“...Yes. In life, he was a great man. But as I said... This is not life. This is a lingering specter, a shadow of what he once was.” Aharôs's voice fell to a whisper, as he took the little box. He opened it, and took out a small vial of clear liquid. “I must do this... If I don't...” He shook his head, and clenched a fist, before regaining his composure. It was the closest Tempest had ever seen him to any uncontrolled emotion. “No, no more. May your journey to the Promised Realm be swift, Zhevakôs Loiar.” Tempest almost didn't hear those final words; she was convinced that Brenan didn't hear them at all. King Zhevakôs looked confused but intrigued at the vial when Aharôs brought it near him. He drank from it without protest, just a sip.

“Farewell, old friend.” Brenan said, holding the eight-pointed star medallion around his neck. The final dignity. For when life itself becomes no longer worth living, and peace may only be attained through death. Such a concept was alien in Equestria, as far as Tempest knew. But ritual murder, and suicide for those still lucid enough, was deeply rooted in the human's culture. The whole had idea repulsed Tempest. But now, watching the final dignity take its effect... I think I understand it now. Even if I still don't like it, I think I get it. The King had been sick for years, growing worse and worse in condition, losing his memory piece by piece. It was only a matter of time, they had said. Aharôs's hair had gone grey too early because of all the stress the King's condition had caused, directly or indirectly. It was just in this moment that Tempest realized how heavy this had sat on the shoulders of Aharôs. But now, it was all over. There was no more worry, no more pain, no more agonized waiting. Only peace.

King Zhevakôs the sixth, of house Loiar, passed away in a calm silence, looking curiously into the nothingness. It was the Priest's turn to speak.

“In life, we shared his world. In death, we share his loss. His soul passes to the Lightbearer; she will guide him through Halls of Judgment and into the Promised Realm, among all those who came before us. For Zhevakôs Loiar, the battle is over. Let him rest now in Heaven.” Brenan recited quietly. He needed not the Kaiathîsa, he had said these words enough in his life to have shaped his own, more personal version. “Kai tal nikîm ai ôv-zikôlîov. Antî aran.”

“Antî aran.” Tempest and Aharôs repeated quietly; both humans touched two fingers to their foreheads.

“It is done.” Aharôs said in a cold voice, with the same neutral look he got whenever he had executed a traitor or come out of a battle. “Brenan, please leave us for a moment.” The priest wordlessly bowed, and took the vial and box with him. Tempest aimed to leave as well, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. The Prince, soon to be the new King, shook his head. “It is finally done.” Repeated he. Aharôs leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down into a sitting position. Tempest sat down next to him. For a few minutes, neither spoke. The Prince just collected himself, returning from the precipice that most others would have gone over in such a heavy moment.

“He really was a good king, you know.” Said Aharôs, out of nowhere.

“Yeah.” Nodded Tempest, not sure what else she could say.

“When I was young, we went into the Dashavon to remind the peasants who ruled this land. At least, that's how I'd see it. For him, it was a trip to meet the forgotten people of our realm. He listened to their complaints, their grievances, and tried to fix what he could. For three months, he sorted things out up in the mountains. The King of Athair, sitting in a village inn, sorting out just where a fence between two farmers' fields should go.” The Prince shook his head. “Unbelievable. But that's what made him so loved. Thûvarôs was the intended heir. Then Brenanîôs. Then Heranôs. All dead. That leaves Aharôs, the son no one expected anything great from, destined to be some administrator at a backwater post in a backwater kingdom.” Tempest frowned, but empathized. “I'm not Zhevakôs. I'm not Thûvarôs, Brenanîôs, or Heranôs. I'm not even Reshîv. I'm Aharôs, the Cruel; and I've turned this petty realm into the greatest power in this corner of the Empire. What would my brothers think? What would my father think? Those are the questions I ask at night... but it doesn't matter, ultimately. They're all gone, now.”

“Reshîv is still alive.” Tempest pointed out, before immediately realizing her mistake.

“Reshîv is no kin of mine.” Sighed Aharôs, voice full of weariness. “My sisters, I never knew. I never even met the older two, and all four are gone in distant lands. I'm the last man of house Loiar.”

“Uh... I know how that feels, in a way...” Tempest mumbled. It was a feeble statement, but it was all she had at the moment.

“But my family isn't gone.” The Prince continued. “Not all of them.”

“They aren't?”

“No.” Aharôs did something Tempest never thought he was capable of, and put an arm around her. “You're still here, Tempest. And that counts for a little more than something.” That hammer hit Tempest in the head, and hard. Did he really just say that? She had known that the human Prince had played a larger part in her life than either of them ever acknowledged. But to hear it out loud... To hear that she did belong somewhere in the world, to have it become real and tangible... It was a warm feeling that filled her heart, if tinged by some sadness. She had always felt out of place, and perhaps she always would be. She only had one true friend in the entire world, and the world expected great things from her; things that Tempest wasn't even sure she wanted to be a part of. But, it was alright. She still had someone looking out for her, who truly cared about her. “If I died today, you would be my legacy, Tempest.” The Prince stated. “I don't think you'll let me down in the days to come.”

“I won't.” Vowed Tempest. “I won't let you down.” That was the last thing she wanted.

“Tomorrow, I become King. Then, we plan the return to Highcrest. I have my throne, now it's time to get yours.” Aharôs told her.

“Really?” She asked in surprise.

“I made your mother a promise, a promise I intend to keep.” Stated he. “The old generation is gone; now is our hour, Tempest.”

“Alright.” The blue-grey pegasus nodded to herself. Her word was more a statement of preparation than agreement.

“I've made a lot of hard choices in the past few years.” Aharôs said. “It will be nice to do something unequivocally right for once.”

“I thought the war in Verâd was right, though? You always said traitors would get what they deserve.” Tempest replied.

“I...” He looked away. “I would never admit this by the light of day, but sometimes I wonder. I wonder if there was another way, a better way. But I can never think of one. Hard choices, Tempest. Hard choices, hard truths. It's our sacred duty to make them. I would not wish such a burden upon anyone else.”

“Being a king is better than being a peasant, though.” Pointed out the pegasus.

“Is it?” Asked the Prince to himself. “Reshîv plays at being royalty like it's a game. My father did too, to an extent. But it's not a game. It's not a excuse for wanton indulgence; that's why the Karthâ states are such a disaster. What good is wealth and prosperity when you use it for debauchery and decadence? That's not what we're supposed to do! Our duty is to the realm, and nothing else. We're the ones that do what all others cannot, we're the ones who responsibility falls to in times of crisis! How can we rule if we spend all our time on frivolities? The peasant has none of that to worry about. The next harvest, the next tithe, where his fencepost ought to be... And here I am, putting cities to the torch so they never revolt again.”

“Maybe it would be better to have a simple life.” Tempest's hesitations about her future flared up again. “You'd always have a place in society. No plots, no intrigues to worry about, just yourself and your honest work.”

“It does sound nice, doesn't it?” Aharôs said with a nod. “I guess you wouldn't mind taking up the art of beekeeping.”

“Not at all.”

“I'll have to find you more books on that...” He paused for a second. “You know, when I was younger, before my brothers met their untimely death, I wanted to work a watermill.”

“A watermill?” Now, I would have never guessed that... They talked further into the night, of bees and watermills and of two lives that could have been but never would be. It was a rare moment of closeness for the two, and Tempest forgot that she was a pony from Equestria being raised by a human of Sarathûl. Despite the death of the King, both of them retired that night with less on their mind than they had woken up with.

Morning was a different affair. Tempest and Snowy didn't even have time for breakfast, they hurried straight to the upper gallery of the throne room. It was time for the coronation of Aharôs, the new King of a united Athair and Verâd. Before going up, they met Aharôs, Turaz, Îrilôs, Baron Kairôs, Eberis, Sidâl, and several others outside the throne room. Notably absent was Reshîv and his mother, the Queen. No doubt she's irked that Aharôs completely barred her from the passing of Zhevakôs. She was glad Valisa hadn't been there.

“It's hard to believe this day has finally come.” Said Turaz. “I never thought I'd be in Vatherîon for a coronation, let alone in the throne room itself.”

“Funny, the places life takes us.” Remarked Îrilôs, looking a bit on edge. He was in his official Imperial robes, white, gold, and red. It was quite the difference from his normally dark attire. Turaz and Eberis were both in their armor, which had been finely polished for this occasion, and Aharôs had his sword. He was dressed normally, unlike the others.

“You two had better get up there.” Turaz told them. They did so, and met the rest of the pegasi outside the gallery.

“What do you know?” Her uncle asked. “I lived long enough to see Aharôs made King!”

“I just hope Tempest here is next.” Coldstar commented. They entered the gallery just as Aharôs and his retinue entered the throne room below. Tempest's eyes went from them, up the hall, and to the throne... Where she found Reshîv and Valisa, not to mention Mayor Pashal of Sturaj, Captain Eshanis, the Duke of Terâd, and quite a few others she recognized but didn't know. Why is Reshîv on the throne...

Her blood went cold when she saw that Reshîv was wearing the crown.

“This can't be good.” Streaming Breeze said worriedly.

“Lady of Light!” Swore Redfern.

“You had better have an explanation for this!” Aharôs announced from below, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.

“I do, dear brother.” Reshîv replied, arrogance flowing from his voice. “While you put our father to rest, we all decided that you would be a poor choice of King for this new realm. After all, it was you who practically slaughtered a quarter of Verâd.”

“Not to mention the thousands of our own men you needlessly sacrificed!” Pashal spoke up.

“I've been told that you have held congress with demons.” Queen Valisa said. “Is this true?”

“What do you think, you avaricious, honorless wretch?” Replied Aharôs, not bothering to hide the venom he spoke with.

“You've even brought your sorcerer with you.” Reshîv noted from the throne, pointing to Sidâl. “Most excellent, I was hoping we could grab him too.”

“I'd very much like to see him dead.” Pashal growled.

“I'll be seeing you dead first.” Aharôs shot back. “You have one chance to stand down. Right here, right now, and not in a minute more.”

“And what? Get executed for treason? Thrown into Hell-gates for who knows what unspeakable horror to eat?” Reshîv questioned, leaning forward. “I think not! No Aharôs, it's you who will be paying for treason. Consider this throne mine. Kneel to your rightful King, and I will spare your life.”

Aharôs drew his sword, the only answer needed.

“I'm getting too old for this...” Sighed Hearth Blackwind.

So the chaos began.

“Take them! Take them all, dead or alive! Preferably dead, that leaves less legalities to worry about!” Ordered Reshîv to all the soldiers present. Aharôs's own stood firm against Reshîv's, but even they had defectors in their midst. It was two dozen versus several hundred, and Tempest only then realized just how much her Prince was hated. The clues over the past several months all fell together. Pashal's comments, the grumblings of soldiers, even things Reshîv had said. Why didn't we see this coming!?

“Tempest..!” Snowy said, in a tone of fright. She poked at Tempest, and pointed to the soldiers who had emerged in the gallery. They were coming from both sides, and every pegasus present was unarmed.

“Go, my Queen!” Commanded Coldstar. “We'll hold them off!”

“But-”

“GO!” Hearth roared, flaring his wings and charged at the soldiers to the left. She didn't need to be told thrice; Tempest yanked at Snowy's mane and bolted after her uncle. Coldstar and Hearth both plowed into the humans, clearing a gap for the two to fly through. A small part of Tempest recognized the irony that they weren't allowed to fly indoors for this very reason.

“Kill them!” Ordered one of the humans, before the din of fighting overtook all other sounds.

Tempest and Snowy raced through the halls; they made for their quarters. By the grace of whatever powers there were, they encountered no one but confused servants. “Quickly, find my sword!” She commanded. Snowy did find it, but she was shaking so bad that she had trouble strapping the device to Tempest's forelegs.

“W-w-why is this happening?” Asked Snowy, in whiny tone that was perfectly acceptable for the moment. “It- it was all going s-so well!”

“I don't know!” Replied Tempest, too shocked for any of it to really register with her.

“Tempest, are you here?” Came another voice. Both pegasi jumped in fright, only to see Îrilôs. “Thank God.” He said thankfully.

“What is this, Îrilôs?” She asked sternly. “We don't have time for pleasantries!”

“Stop whatever you're doing and pack for a trip through the wild.” He ordered, his usually amused demeanor completely gone. “As you can see, there's been a usurpation here. Your lives are in danger, Reshîv does not care if you live or die, but he prefers that you die. Sidâl mentioned to me a few days ago that Celestia had said that she would be willing to call off her invasion of Sarathûl if both you and Aharôs were dealt with, but he said he didn't know if it was true or not. Regardless, Reshîv certainly heard about it, and he certainly believes it!”

“Why is this happening?” Tempest echoed her companion's question.

“I don't know!” He replied, exasperated. “We underestimated Reshîv greatly, it seems. I didn't think he'd be bold enough to move against the Emperor's will like this!”

“Great. This is just fucking great.” Seethed Tempest, gathering her traveling cloak and throwing Snowy's own at her. “Is Aharôs alive?”

“He, Turaz, Eberis, and Kairôs began cutting their way out of the room. Last I saw of them they had escaped into the entrance hall, and were making for the stables.” Îrilôs replied.

“Where are they going to go?” Asked the pegasus.

“West, to the Razadrî.” Tempest jumped in fright again as Sidâl appeared literally from nowhere.

“Why are you here!?” Exclaimed she.

“To tell Îrilôs where they are going, of course. Aharôs intends to escape to the steppe, and then head north to the March.” Sidâl stated.

“Reshîv won't be able to touch him in the March.” Îrilôs stated. “From there he'll take a ship to Ar-Athazîon, I imagine. My uncle will help him, of that I am sure.”

“So we want to go north too.” Deduced Tempest.

“Yes, head for the March, spend as little time in Athair and Verâd as you can. You might want to even fly northwest for Jutan, and end up at Kakâdras. Then head back east along the March until you hit the coast. By then you should meet Aharôs and company, and I'll have a ship waiting.”

“What about you?” Tempest asked.

“Me?” Îrilôs laughed. “I'm the first male heir to the Empire. More importantly, I'm under divine protection as Imperial Envoy. If they kill me, Athair will be razed to the ground. Don't worry about me Tempest, I'll manage.”

“And you?” The pegasus turned to Sidâl.

“I was never here.” Sidâl said cryptically, and walked off down the hall. When Tempest stuck her head out the door, she found no trace of him in either direction.

“So, Kakâdras.” Tempest turned back to Îrilôs.

“Yes. A relative of mine is in charge of that fortress, you'll be safe there.” That takes us awfully close to the Far North...

“And what about my pegasi?” She questioned. Îrilôs shook his head.

“I saw it from below. You're on your own, my queen. I'm sorry.” Her heart sank at that. Thank the Lord of Heaven I got Snowy out with me.

“Well, that's it, then. The end of the once-feared Blackwind army.” She sighed. “I really don't have the time to mourn, though.”

“A small blessing, then.” Îrilôs looked out the hall, and cupped a hand to his ear. “I hope you're ready to go, because you're going to need to in the next minute.”

“W-we're r-r-ready.” Snowy stammered, holding a lantern of all things in her mouth. Tempest wouldn't have thought to bring a lantern, but if they were going to hoof it in the wild, then perhaps that was good thinking ahead on her part.

“Don't worry about your armor or possessions, my queen and lady, I'll take care of them.” Assured the Envoy. “Now, get out of here. Reshîv no doubt has alerted every garrison in the realm that you are to be apprehended. He's had a head-start of at least a few days... Best stay away from populated areas. I expect to meet you two in Ar-Athazîon, alive and well. Don’t worry about anything else but getting there.”

“I sure hope so.” Tempest kicked open the room's lone window. Snowy had somehow managed to stuff some blankets, a map, and other supplies into their saddle-bags, and Tempest had one of her swords. They were good to go.”

“Here.” Îrilôs knelt down and stuffed a few coins into one of Tempest's bags. “Just in case.”

“Thanks, Îrilôs. I hope we can repay you.”

“Don't hope you can, make it happen! God be with you!” Tempest leaped into the air and sailed through the window, and out over Vatherîon. Snowy followed her out, looking absolutely terrified.

“Shoot them down!” Came the order from below, and the cracking fire of arquebuses sounded. Shots whistled by, but none hit the two.

Tempest barely understood what had taken place in just fifteen minutes, but needless to say, the game had changed. Like Îrilôs said, it was a small blessing they were both too rattled to truly reflect on just what had happened. That would wait until nightfall.

To the northwest, Îrilôs told us. They turned in that direction, towards the snow-capped peaks of Dashavon just barely poking over the horizon. This was going to be the furthest she had ever been from the coast, something she had always wanted but never expected to get. And now, here she was, going on a journey to new lands, with an entire realm told to kill her if they could. Funny, the places life takes you.

Author's Notes:

Because sometimes a picture is worth a thousand author's notes, even if it's a shitty picture. Congratulations reader, you've made it through the first figurative if not literal third of Across the Sea!