I…hadn’t expected Elysael’s welcome to be quite so abrupt, if I’m being honest. Especially considering the scale of the military welcome she had put together for us. The Dwarven Prince had barely said more than two or three sentences to us before immediately gesturing for her forces to make way for a procession through the city. With some honestly impressive coordination, the masses and masses of Dwarven soldiers all around us smoothly marched off to the sides, where they saluted their Prince. What was left in their wake was a nice, evenly spaced walkway that she didn’t waste a second trotting down. At the same time, a group of Rhoscaran officials appeared out of seemingly nowhere to first gaze pointedly up at us, and then direct their eyes over to the expedition caravan.

  Ah. Dwarven political politeness. How long had it been? Still, I could take a hint when it was directed my way, especially after my time wading through the Herztalian courts.

  With a few swift gestures, I split the leadership. Most of us would follow Elysael up to the palace for the negotiations that were sure to follow, while the rest would work with the Rhoscarans to settle the expedition within their walls. Myself, Bleddyn, Nyx, Alveron, and of course Olag would be accompanying Elysael to her home. I really doubted I could have convinced Olag not to come in the first place. Meanwhile, Marcel, Gustave, and Bella would help organize the settling of our people.

  Hopefully, they would finally get a chance to enjoy the calm before the storm that was the Principality, after all of our traveling. I had some really fond memories of my time in the Red City with Azarus. We may have needed to keep a low profile at the time, because of my status as a slave, but we’d made time for a bit of fun.

  I was…swiftly disabused of that notion, not even five minutes after our procession began maneuvering through the winding streets of the city, escorted by the avian-themed knights that seemed to be Elysael’s personal guard.

  Rhoscara had changed since I had last seen it.

  In my memories, Rhoscara had probably been the most cultured city I had ever visited, here on Vereden. Hollow Hill had been a very sleepy place, while Blutstein was the exact opposite. The capital of Herztal was the very definition of big city busy, especially because of the expansive docks and constant trade. Silvercrest had burned my lungs with all the coal smoke, and Helstein had been downright ugly.

  The less said about Elderwyck, the better.

  But Rhoscara was known far and wide as the city where all of the artisans went. House Florens was the single largest patron of the arts on Vereden. All forms of crafting were extolled, even those artistic professions that did not have a dedicated Profession. You had been able to find them on every street corner practicing their trades, even outside of the dedicated districts for their usage. It had been an almost magical atmosphere. Singers, painters, instrument makers, sculptors, chefs, if you could name it, they congregated in Rhoscara.

  Artists.

  That had…changed, in the intervening months.

  I had already noticed from the outside that Rhoscara had seemingly built up militarily, but inside they had as well. Military chokepoints, manned by grim-faced Dwarven soldiers, were extremely common. Judging by the suspicious looks I and my fellows were treated to as we followed after Elysael’s procession, I’m not sure they would have been happy to let us through. That…didn’t bode for my people, I felt. But that wasn’t all. Military patrols were everywhere on the streets, and those streets seemed otherwise empty. I didn’t see many Rhoscaran citizens out in the city in the first place, though. Those who were seemed furtive and on edge, fearful of…everything, really. They seemed scared of the sky, which was understandable, but also seemed scared of the guards, each other, and most importantly…

  Elysael and her guards.

  They actively avoided her, ducking into doorways and peering over window sills as she passed by. I couldn’t help but notice there was…little love for their leader, in their gaze.

  That was trouble, I felt. I had seen something like this in the people of Blustein before I had left, but not to this extent. The people of Rhoscara were visibly afraid of something more than just the Skyfall.

  Something was going on here.

  I wasn’t the only one to see this. And judging by the growing scowl on Olag’s painted lips, he didn’t care for it.

  Not. One. Bit.

  Still, he kept his silence on the issue, at least for the duration of our trip up to the palace. As we were led through the imposing steel gates, I couldn’t help but notice that even this place seemed to have lost its luster. The previous sprawling fields of flowers bearding the palace were wilting, and there were none of the foppish nobles visible in the garden.

  Only soldiers.

  The mood in the city had affected the mood among us, as well, and so we had been silent all the way up to the palace. It was only when Elysael and her soldiers had completed their march into the halls of it, leading us into one of the many meeting rooms of the Florens, that it was broken.

  By Olag.

  The Dwarven mercenary slammed one mailed fist onto the surface of the long table of a rich red wood which dominated the room. I wasn’t the only one to wince at the cracking of the surface that echoed oddly off the red velvet drapes upon the walls. Elysael, I noticed, didn’t react. She just looked tired. “What have you done?” Olag hissed.

  Slowly, the Dwarven Prince reached up for the thin golden circlet upon her brow and removed it. She ignored the immediate squabbles from her advisors, who had followed us into the room and were now standing behind her, and set it upon the table. Elysael looked up, then, and met Olag’s eyes.

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  Gold upon gold.

  “What I had to,” Elysael said flatly, folding her hands before her. “There is much that has occurred since last you were in the city…cousin.”

  “Obviously,” Olag growled. “Beyond even this accursed corruption, our people are scared to walk the streets. What have you done to them, Elysael? Why do they cower before you, when in the past they would throw flowers for you to tread on?”

  “Prince Elysael,” Said Prince sharply interjected, narrowing her eyes at Olag. “I am still your Prince, Olag, no matter your belligerent tone. You will show the throne of our forefathers the appropriate respect, or you will be expelled.”

  As Olag grit his teeth at the censure, I exchanged an alarmed look with Nyx.

  This…wasn’t going how I had wanted it to.

  Carefully, I stepped forward, along with all of my Captains further into the room. As they took seats on the near side of the table, I set my hands on the surface of it and projected my voice over the growing family disagreement. “Thank you for your hospitality, your Highness,” I said, my words catching the attention of both Florens. “But there is a reason my forces have come all this way. Several of them, in fact. Perhaps foremost among them is the extremely large Principality army currently sailing down the very river your city sits upon, bent upon burning it to the ground? The forces of the Savoy will soon be upon you.”

  Elysael visibly dismissed Olag in favor of resting her pale golden eyes on me instead. The Dwarven Prince visibly considered me for a moment, and I was extremely thankful that the same animosity she’d regarded Olag with was absent in that gaze. “Unfortunately, Sir Hart-”

  “-Marshal,” Olag cut in snidely, pulling out a chair and sitting in it stiffly. Still, I noticed that he had chosen to sit closer down the table towards the Prince, than he had us. “He is a Herztalian Marshal, now, of the Order of the Polaris Reach.”

  Elysael continued as if her cousin hadn’t even spoken. “They are already here.”

  Nyx leaned forward in her seat. “The army is already besieging the city?” She asked in alarm. “We did not see them upon the river, though!”

  “This…army, you have sent word about, has not reached my city, no,” Elysael shook her head. “But the Savoy are already assaulting us, in their own manner. Through sabotage and assassination, with blade, garrote, and torch, we are under siege from the agents of the Savoy.”

  To the right of me, sitting in one of the chairs, I met Maria’s eyes as Elysael spoke. We both recognized what that meant.

  “Ever since I declined Anguis Savoy’s offer of forgiveness, in return for giving up the Unchained, they have been assaulting the city. The frequency of attacks has only grown with Rhoscara’s declaration of independence from Velancia as a whole.”

  “Thank ye for that,” Bleddyn cut in gratefully, ignoring the sharp looks from the Dwarven advisors in the room. I got the feeling he was used to such a thing. “I wouldn’t expect most people to do the same.”

  Elysael inclined her head to the Thunderheart heir. “I gave you my word that I would shepherd your people in your absence. House Florens does not renege upon an agreement.”

  “At the very least, she’s right about that,” Olag admitted grudgingly.

  In response, Elysael continued to ignore him. “I will admit, we’ve had limited success in stopping them. Whoever it is that Anguis has skulking about my city, they’re unfortunately quite skilled. They target guards, soldiers, and even knights when they can isolate them. They break into storage depots and destroy both weapons and supplies. They set fire to residential buildings, killing the civilians within.” I saw her hands tighten against each other upon the table. “Families. Children. And what’s worse…they sometimes attempt to frame these attacks upon my own people.”

  Silence briefly fell over the table as we absorbed that. To my surprise, Maria was the one to break it. “They’re softening you up for the invasion,” She said softly. “Textbook espionage.”

  Yes…after all, we had both been part of a campaign to do the exact same thing, only to Elderwyck instead of Rhoscara. Those months we had spent in the seaside city had been for the express purpose of weakening the Herztalian Loyalists so the Uprising could take the city.

  I didn’t appreciate the irony of being on the other side of such a thing now.

  Elysael gifted my Captain a grim, mirthless smile at her words. “Apparently.”

  As my brow furrowed, I could see Alveron react for the first time, stirring in his chair. He didn’t speak, though. “This makes no sense,” I pointed out. “Surely your people know you wouldn’t just murder them in their own homes?”

  My response was a bleak smile. “You would think,” Elysael agreed wearily. “But with the outside world denied to them through the Judgment, and my need to instill martial law during the unrest…people are…”

  “Reacting like scared cattle,” Olag finished for her, his frown deepening, while his apparent animosity with Elysael lessened.

  Unseen to him, I twitched sharply at that word, unable to control my reaction in time. Neither could Bleddyn, I noticed. His nails dug deeply into the hardwood of the table as he restrained himself from bodily launching himself at Olag.

  I didn’t blame him. I did not care for hearing that from another Dwarf.

  “They’re jumping at shadows, and if you’re unable to catch the perpetrators, inevitably the disloyal will begin to wonder,” Olag continued irritably. “Are our leaders culling us for some reason? It’s illogical, but what more can you expect from the proletariat? I apologize for my earlier words, cousin. I see you’ve been mired in a difficult situation. Have the Rangers truly been unable to catch these miscreants?”

  Elysael inclined her head slightly at the apology, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. “No, not truly. However…one squad was able to catch a glimpse of one as they fled from the scene of the crime. To their shock, they weren’t at a height similar to our own. They were…taller, instead,” Her eyes flickered up to meet mine. “I must admit…there were some among my advisors who believed it was possible that the Savoy had allied with Herztal for such a thing. After all, your people have a history of training such agents.”

  I think she was surprised at the outright grimace on many of our faces, because I believe I wasn’t the only one who had made the connection. In particular, I heard a short, soft sigh come from the still form of Alveron, barely audible behind his mask. “You don’t know,” I stated more than I asked. “Of course you wouldn’t. It’s not like Anguis would have just volunteered information.”

  Elysael’s eyes flickered over the resigned forms of my party, and then narrowed. “What don’t I know?” She asked sharply.

  “Your saboteurs…are not Humans, young Prince,” Alveron spoke for the first time, his ancient, gravely voice immediately catching the Dwarves' attention. To my shock, he actually reached up to first remove his mask, revealing his ringed and wrinkled face…

  And then lowered his hood to unveil his sharp and pointed ears. A sharp inhalation of shock was the answer to the revelation that an Elf of all things sat at the table.

  More than one of the avian knights visibly put their hands on their sheathed swords at the sight.

  Alveron just ignored them all, holding the shocked gaze of Elysael instead. “They are Elves,” He admitted with a tired sigh. “Raiders, I imagine. And they are here, in this city…because my people have allied with House Savoy, and now do the bidding of your ‘Serpent’.”

  A brief flash of dread streaked across Elysael’s face before she smoothed it away. Many of her advisors weren’t quite that composed, however. One even looked to be near tears at the information.

  Not Elysael, though. Instead, resolve merely grew on her royal features.

  “Tell me everything.”