[center][i]A Promise[/i][/center]

Outside, the streets of the Kirun were bustling with life as merchants and shoppers flooded the marketplace like a sea of people. The end of the war had brought with it the end of the embargo on trade and travellers from Barcea and Gurata, and once again the city was overwhelmed with prosperity and energy, even as the days grew shorter and the mountain air grew colder. Guards kept a watchful eye out for any thieves while serving as guides for foreigners, and the smell of freshly cooked food from street vendors blanketed the air with rich and sweet scents. For the time being, life in the Kirun had gone back to normal. 

The same could not be said for life within the palace. Once filled with guests and business partners, a majority of the staff had been reassigned and most of the wings of the manor had been closed off. The gates to the manor had mostly stayed shut since Ennis Cade had taken over as Lord of the Kirun for his late father, only opening to allow the rare messenger or servant passage. The new Lord Cade had always been a sickly man, and word had leaked out that he had been bedridden for the past two months. Despite these rumors, he had still been signing trade contracts and issuing decrees; apparently, even serious illness was not enough to keep the man from conducting business. 

However, only a handful of people truly knew what was going beyond the manor’s doors, and one of those people had just arrived at the palace gates. Nia Tucela flashed the guards a smile as she passed through unchecked. On anyone else the elite soldiers would’ve performed a search for any dangerous items, but Nia had word from both the former and the current Lord Cade that she was trusted and to not be bothered. Plus, the men may live in the Kirun, but they were still technically H’kelan soldiers, and like any good H’kelan soldier they knew that it was better to simply ignore a mage than try to make them heed to their demands. At best they would get beguiled by illusions and trickery, at worst they would be turned inside out by dark magic. It was a stereotype, of course, but it was one Nia didn’t mind having; anything was better than being pushed around by overpaid meatheads.

She didn’t bother with knocking on the front door, knowing that the doorman had been let go weeks ago, and it closed behind her with a loud thud that echoed through the empty halls as she entered. The grand hall was well-lit and clean, a paper thin disguise for the rest of the manor that laid beyond it, and as Nia walked the familiar steps towards her destination she could almost see the point where the housekeeper had given up on maintaining the illusion as dust, cobwebs, and burnt-out lanterns began to shift the state of the manor into dreary darkness. With the snap of her fingers a small flame came to life on the tip of her forefinger and cast asoft glow around the woman, shadows dancing off of the walls, as she progressed further into the maze-like manor. Truth be told, she didn’t really need the light to know her way. Ennis had settled in his old childhood sickroom (instead of the master’s chambers), and Nia had been navigating the winding halls to that room since she could remember walking. Nia hesitated for a moment as she came to his door and then rapped her knuckles lightly against the wood.

“Ennis, it’s me. May I come in?”

Silence. She felt her heart rate quicken as the worst came to mind. She wrapped her hand around the door and opened it hard, letting it bounce against the wall as she hastily stepped forward into the room. The small flame on her fingers erupted into that of a large torch and pushed all of the shadows to the corners. Her narrowed eyes fell on the ornate bed frame and scanned for signs of life on the figure that laid wrapped up to their neck below covers, her features softening as she saw his eyes blinking back at her. With a sigh she whipped the flames around her hand and tossed them aside like a crumpled napkin, the fireball landing in the fireplace. The crackling of wood began to fill the room as a fire sprung to life and Nia took a step closer to Ennis, her arms folded across her chest in disapproval.

“A simple ‘come in’ would be appreciated,” she said, her eyes scanning his face. His brown eyes avoided her scrutinization, but she imagined she would’ve seen a mixture of guilt and accusation looking up at her. His blond hair was unwashed and greasy and he looked even skinnier than before. An untouched plate of food rested on his nightstand; she had been the one who had set it there the other night. She grabbed it and used the polished fork to scrape the food into the wastebin. “You know, I can fire the cook if their food isn’t to your liking.”

“Don’t bother,” muttered Ennis, rolling so that his back was to Nia. 

“Listen, you need to regain your strength. I can’t keep running the Kirun for you; we both know that. It’s not that this is a struggle for me, really, but people already know that you haven’t left your room in months. Soon they’re going to figure out that the one telling them what they can and cannot sell is the mage running messages for them. They won’t like that,” she said.

“You can handle them.”

“Well, yeah, of course I can, but I somehow doubt that turning any of our merchants into a pile of ash would be good for free trade. Not to say that some of them don’t deserve it,” she added with a sneer, thinking exclusively of one troublesome tailor that had charged her a small fortune for an alteration. Ennis didn’t reply. “Come on, Ennis. I need you to get healthier. You need to start eating—you promised me.”

“Yeah, well, it may come as a shock, but you’re not the only one who can break a promise,” he said, coolly.

So, it was this conversation again. She had been expecting things to turn ugly, but it didn’t stop his words from piercing her like a knife shoved between the ribs any less. She really wish he would drop it, even though she could understand why he never would. If she had lost her father, spouse, and child then she would have shot the messenger, too, especially when the messenger had sworn to rescue their wife and daughter well before their lives were ever truly at risk. When the war ended Nia had tried to save them from the palace in the Oasis, only to arrive to the aftermath of the infighting that had erupted in Gartain’s defeat. Ennis’s wife and daughter had been slain, perhaps on purpose, perhaps on accident, by some unknown swords. Ennis’s father had also been murdered days later during Revali’s revolution, brought down amongst throngs of other lords by some sort of force. Nia had been spared the same fate by leaving earlier that week to deliver the somber news to Ennis about his spouse and child. 

Still, even if she could understand where he was coming from, she could not stand that he kept coming at here. 

“I told you I’m sorry,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“You’re sorry?” said Ennis with a laugh, turning so that he could look Nia in her face with a withering glare. “I don’t want your apologies. You lied to me. They’re dead because of that.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she said. 

“You failed me. You killed them. I trusted you,” he said, nearly blabbering at this point.

He kept speaking, but she no longer heard his words. Something about seeing her friend breakdown into a complete mess sparked something inside of Nia, and a cool anger boiled up from inside of her. She took two quick steps towards his bed and grabbed Ennis by the shoulders, bringing her face so close to his it was as if they were about to kiss. Yet the passion that poured from her lips was poisonous, and she watched her friend writhe with discomfort as she spoke, her voice cold and calculated: 

“Listen here, you little shit, the only failure here is you, and the only reason you’re even lying there in bed instead of a shallow grave is because I was there to watch your back. You should’ve never left the Kirun in the first place. You think your father was trying to protect you? He was embarrassed of you, and you proved him right at every turn. You think I failed to protect your family? Isn’t protecting your family supposed to be [i]your[/i] job? Weren’t they in the Oasis because of you in the first place? Didn’t you abandon them to work in Barcea, knowing full well that they would be at risk in that place?”

She could see that she was hitting all of the nails directly on the head, and watched as each strike drove them further and further into his heart as he squirmed. A cruel smile crept across her face as she took a breath and dove right back in, ready for the kill:

“Face it, you’re a coward. You were born a coward, you’ve always been a coward, and you will always be a coward. You ran to Barcea because you were afraid of Gartian. You didn’t give two single shits about your wife our your daughter—you didn’t even try to argue when you father told you to stay at home and let me handle retrieving them. He should’ve forced you to have gone in his place. Then the Kirun would still have a real ruler and I wouldn’t have to waste all of my fucking free time being the only friend for some hopeless weakling who won’t even do anything to set things rights.” 

Too far. She had gone too far. A look of shame crossed her face as she let go of Ennis and stood back up, a hand nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of the day would be spent apologizing and dealing with the wetworks.

“Shit, Ennis, I’m...I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely. “It’s just that I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and I’ve been frustrated with all of these politics that I think I tried to take it out on—”

“You’re right.”

“—you. It was wrong, and I didn’t mean any of—beg your pardon?”

“Nia, I said that you’re right,” said Ennis, drying his eyes as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I am a coward. I am a failure. You are my only friend.” He tried to force a smile; Nia bashfully looked away. “But if you think I’m not going to set things right, well, then you are dead wrong. Maybe my father did think I was an embarrassment. He’d be an idiot not to, and from what I can tell he wasn’t an idiot.”

“Really, En, I think he just had your best interests at heart. He just had a pretty poor way of showing that he cared,” said Nia, taking a seat on the bed. She gave a wry smile and added,  “Not unlike a certain girl in this room that will not be named, come to think of it.”

“Good,” said Ennis, “because I will need your help.”

“Anything,” she said. “Just name it.”

“I want to avenge my father.”

“Done.”

Ennis leaned forward and Nia moved in the rest of the way, pulling her friend in for a tight hug as she closed her eyes. For a moment the world seemed so much smaller to her. No longer did she have to concern herself with policies or pushy merchants, no longer did she have to worry about the tenuous position her military career was rocking on (for soon it would be plummeting to its grave anyway), no longer did she have to wake up in a cold sweat after an oh-too-real nightmare about her friend taking the easy way out ripped her from the depths of slumber like a rabid dog tearing at a piece of meat. She could just sit in the dark and feel her friend’s body rise in fall in steady rhythm as his warm breath hit her neck, proving to her that he was, in fact, very much alive. Then a log in the fire popped and she was drawn back to being aware of the rest of reality. Pulling away she smiled in the way that a child would before looking down. By the time she looked back up Ennis had settled back against the headboard to rest and the smile on her face was her normal, practiced smile of an unwavering confidence.

“So, regicide it is, then?” she said. “Not the most original of ideas, but even if we fail we’ll be among good company in the history books.”

“We can’t fail,” said Ennis, his hands curling into balls.

“Are you insane?” asked Nia, standing up with a twirl. “Of course we can’t—I’m here! Revali was burnt the minute she dared to fuck with the Kirun.”

[center][b]Joy[/b][/center]

Steam filled the washroom as Joy sunk into the hot bath, the burden of the day escaping from her mouth in a sigh of relaxation. Normally she would’ve been at the school, walking the wooden floor of the training room as steel clashed against steel and wearing her voice hoarse as she barked out corrections and criticisms, but she had given them the day off as her form of an early Silvae’s Celebration gift. Of course, it had really been a gift more for herself: she had run herself ragged over the past few weeks, and had never really taken the proper time to recuperate after their fight with the Advisor. Once Diane had healed her injuries she had begun her new obsession of training their soldiers to actually fight worth a damn. Truth be told, she was just feeling quite exhausted and she needed to take a break.

Unfortunately, there would not be much opportunity for training during a month-long holiday—the school would obviously remain open, but unless she went out and dragged her students in by their ears she doubted anyone would show. She grumbled from underneath the water, her disapproval rising to the surface of the water as bubbles before dissipating. She understood where Cyril was coming from by trying to distract people from the tragedies that the war had incurred, but feasting and swapping presents didn’t prepare them for what was to come. The Manu Propria didn’t stop their schemes just because everyone else is on holiday; whatever they were, they weren’t a damn bank. She groaned. Even if she tried to relax, her mind wouldn’t let her. Joy should’ve just taught the class today; at least her work kept her distracted. 

A distraction. Maybe that was what she needed. There were plenty of distractions at the castle—it was the primary reason why she never really stayed there. Cyril had given her a room, of course, but that didn’t stop her from renting her own place outside of the castle walls. She was still close enough to walk, but not comfortably so, and it kept her from getting constant knocks on her door (not that anyone really visited her that often when she did stay in the castle, but the idea that someone could was tiresome enough). Plus, it kept her from prying; after the war she had decided to give Cyril his space, let him mold himself into a proper King instead of influencing him one way or another. 

On second thought, letting him make his own decisions unchecked had led the boy to quadrupling the length of the worst time of the year. Joy had always been frustrated by the holiday, and how everyone pretended as if they gave a damn about each other when they were perfectly fine with stepping over their body any other week out of the year.  Plus, one of the students had even given her a red ribbon; now she was obliged to get him something in return, and if she got one student something she’d have to get the rest a gift as well or face the consequences of looking as if she was playing favorites. It was an unwanted complication on top of other unwanted complications. 

Joy decided she would give the King a piece of her mind. She knew that she wouldn’t convince him to change his mind (he couldn’t even if he wanted to, judging by the way all of her students had been abuzz, and she didn’t want to be the one that ruined Silvae’s Celebration anyway), but it did serve as an excuse for her to go visit the castle and distract herself. Well, okay, and maybe do a little bit of prying. She knew the kind of people Cyril kept company with; who knows what sort of stupid ideas they had given him while she had been busying herself? She believed that the King was smart enough to not listen to some of their more dubious companions and trusted him to make good decisions, but then again: month long celebration. 

With those nerve shattering thoughts in mind, Joy practically jumped out of the bath and dried herself off in a hurry as she rushed to get dressed. She grabbed her sword while still buttoning her shirt, and was already halfway out the door before she had completely slipped into her boots. She regretted not grabbing her cloak as the cool air sent a chill through her body, but she was in such a rush that she did not even consider to go back for it despite it only being half a block behind her. Nightmare scenarios ran through her mind: Drosil convincing Cyril to use the castle servants in some bizarre magical experiment, Dal dragging the King to some shady bar in an attempt to impress some women, Alice tricking Cyril with her wiles to let her decorate the castle anyway she saw fit for the holidays, that Paladin even being given a chance to say a single word—[i]Fuck! I should be running![/i]

Joy was out of breath when she reached the castle, and as she steadied herself against a wall she took the second to note that, since her last visit a handful of days ago, the castle had not burnt down in a cooking accident, been demolished in a magical explosion, or rented out to a bunch of hoodlums to pay off gambling arrears. It was a bit too red for her liking, but then again so was the entire city and she’d just have to live with it until things (hopefully) went back to their normal selves. She leaned against the wall, still trying to catch her breath.

“Today was supposed to be about relaxing,” she said, grumbling between huffs. 

On the bright side, she had, at the very least, managed to distract herself from the Manu Propria. A few more minutes to herself, she decided, and then she would go see the disasters that had emerged in her absence.

[center][b]Nia[/b][/center]

A black haired woman on a horse raced along the dirt road, a cloud of dust billowing behind in her wake. Nia could see the Barcean capital on the horizon, the peaks of the castle’s towers serving as a beacon. Even from this distance she could see the banners for Silvae’s Celebration dyeing the city red, and combined with a squint and the reflection of the sun it looked almost as if the city itself was on fire. The illusion tickled Nia, as she knew how close to a reality that image had actually been. If things had gone differently, if she had joined the Advisor in her secret assault on the castle, would there even be a Barcean capital to ride to? Would there even be a Barcea, or a need to go to this garbage city in the first place? [i]Obviously not.[/i] But there was no point in thinking about what could have been. She had a job to do.

The job was simple: integrate and gather information. Reconnaissance was below her these days, really, but she had promised to help Ennis, and she had no intentions of breaking this one. The information they had now was limited, but all signs pointed to Ennis’s old travelling companions as being the ones that could enlighten them about Revali and her benefactors—she had to have a benefactor to pull off her little stunt. True, Nia could have just gone to the Oasis and turned the whole place into glass, she had even suggested it, but Ennis had made it clear that he would be the one to avenge his father. Nia? She was just the one who would make that possible. So while Ennis gathered his strength, she would gather information.

Sweet words and patience would be her weapons here; no point in tipping her hand by playing too aggressively. Besides, Ennis had proved her with a letter legitimizing her reason for being in Barcea. Nia had laughed outloud when he had explained his idea to her, and even now just thinking of her cover made her smirk. [i]“Ambassador” Tucela.[/i] She shook her head as she spurred her horse on, the gates of the city coming into view. [i]I suppose that I do deserve a promotion.[/i]