The location of the castle Xerxes meant that when the sun rose, its rays would hit the ancient structure before any other part of Akkad. The light of the sun crawled ever so slowly from behind the mountains to the north, bringing with it a growing intensity. It gave it a kind of brilliant dark glow as the obsidian walls reflected the early morning rays. The purple tint of its walls glimmered with a mysterious aura. Such an ancient structure stood resolute and unmoving as time washed against its walls. The castle looked as though it belonged in the realm of the gods. Daybreak was still hours away and yet as the entire palace was fast asleep, there were many servants who began to stir and start their daily duties. The events of the day before were surely to be a large point of contention throughout the palace and many servants would take this time while the inhabitants were still fast asleep to discuss and gossip amongst themselves. They would exchange stories of what they heard, and from whom they came. Those who served the lords and ladies who were in possession of the valuable news, raised their heads triumphantly as for a small time, they too wielded great power that was so coveted. But as talk of the previous day spun throughout the castle, one noble was wide awake, no doubt aware of what was to happen. For she herself was present when it did.

  Cirella paced around her room replaying the events of the last day. Sleep was something that never troubled her until she moved to Akkad. In the beginning it bothered her, but as the days and eventual years went on she became accustomed to it. She quickly realized the early mornings, when the servants began their day, before the rest of the castle stirred offered her momentary respite from the demands of royalty. In the shadows here, hidden in the dark she allowed her mind to calm itself, unhindered by others. It was something she always prided in herself, her ability to adapt to whatever situation arose. It was a skill taught to her by her late father and as she paced back and forth in her night attire, it was the first time she could remember struggling to adapt. She did not think the elders would so brazenly destroy five years worth of alliances and assurances made between different Stygian factions. She had always known they did things beyond the understanding of everyone, even members of the Stygian royal family, but to see it in person was something completely different. Her husband, Daimion, was useless, something she half expected would not be so glaring for all others to see. She was sure of it, to everyone else he must have looked like a mere fly buzzing around the ears of giants.

  She turned to look at her sleeping husband, they did not speak much when they returned to their chambers last night, both just slid into bed and turned away from each other. Cirella was amazed at how swiftly he went to sleep given the consequences for what just happened. Daimion had made an open attack on Antares, the would-be king. A slight like that was sure not to be forgotten nor forgiven, often repaid in full. She let out a small curse underneath her breath and immediately regretted her actions. It was not her husband's fault he could not do more; they had deluded themselves into thinking they had more power than they did. She stupidly allowed herself to feel comfortable over the years. The sense of power she and her husband wielded was nothing but a lie. They were merely allowed to occupy the space while those with true power busied themselves with other matters. Yesterday was a painful reminder that not just her and Daimion but her children too, were inconsequential. And that angered her greatly.

  She opened the door slightly so as not to wake Daimion and made her way into their living room, in the darkness she shuffled herself towards drink. She did not wish to start the day sober. As she sat on their large dining table she poured the red liquid into a cup. She smiled slightly at what she was doing, for most of the day she had to always keep up appearances, display what a true member of the royal family would do. But in the privacy of her own chambers, she sat in her night attire atop her dining table, ready to indulge herself without a care in the world. She experienced a sense of freedom she rarely had felt. In this moment, she was not a loving mother or a dutiful wife, she was simply Cirella. There was a time that was all she ever wished to be. As the first two sips slid down her throat, she allowed her mind to wonder what life would've been like had things gone different. She would have been the wife of a common Stygian noble. She would have bore him a child or two and they would have lived a quiet uneventful life on the countryside away from the politics of it all. It was a life her sisters were currently living right now.

  There was a time in the beginning she was jealous of them, the simplicity of the lives they lived. To exist merely to fill a role. Her fate decided for her from birth. She moved her raven hair to the side, exposing a serene soft face. Her twilight eyes burned with the calming sensation of an evening sunset. Her lips full and coated red, remnants from the wine she drank. Her ebony skin had a glow to it, no just not her skin, but all of her. In the dim darkness of the new dawn, Cirella glowed a true Stygian royal hue. She looked around her chambers, at the riches adorned on her walls and the various treasures scattered around. She examined the marble walls and the golden ornaments the candles were housed in. She looked at the velvet carpet that lay at the center of the room bringing it all together. Had it been any of her sisters, they would have been enamored by all that was around her. They were simple. She was not. She would not be distracted by all of this, danger lurked in the shadows all around her, throughout the entire castle. She knew where she called home was a pit made for vipers.

  The first cracks of dawn had begun to show through her window and some of the light caught her glass, the red liquid was a deep maroon in the morning light, it reminded her of blood. It reminded her of her conviction. She was the master of her own fate, she chose to wed Daimion, she chose to bear him children. She chose to rebel. She chose. And that was all she ever wanted. As Cirella sat there, a small burning sensation began to grow from her back. It never amounted to more than a warm feeling but to her, she could feel it slither and writhe as though it stirred awake. She carried great disdain for the shared birthmark of her people. An ugly reminder of their sins.

  She finished her glass and poured herself another one, she had grown bored with her thoughts of helplessness and self pity. Instead, she turned her thoughts to Antares and how she would salvage what her husband destroyed. Cirella did not know much about the king to be. Even before his exile, any conversations they had were short and filled with the usual pleasantries. To Cirella, Antares was as much a stranger as any other human. Daimion seldom spoke of him, even more so during his exile. Of all the hundreds of stories she had heard of Antares, many of them contradicted each other. She had heard he was a womanizer, and yet in the same breath she was told he had ever only loved one woman. Or another time she heard tales of his savagery, and from another he was closer to sainthood than even the human priests themselves. She knew the bards grossly exaggerated his exploits during the great rebellion by his uncles further east in the Storm Islands. Cirella herself had once snuck out of the castle to watch these plays. The tales they spun of him were far too grand, even for a Stygian. But Antares was a Lord of War that could never be denied or exaggerated. She knew all too well what that meant, what it made Antares. Cirella bit her thumb in frustration, she did not enjoy the ambiguity that surrounded Antares. But ever since his return there was one truth that she would need no clarification on; she was completely terrified of him. Everyone died in his wake, that was the fate for all those who stood by him. But she would not allow such a fate to befall her children. She would do all she could to save them.

  Cirella had enjoyed the wine so much, far too quickly. Her cheeks were flushed and she moved her raven starry hair out of her face once more. The thought of crawling back into bed appeased her and a thin smile crossed her face. However as quickly as it arrived, it dissipated with the soft knock at the door. She first ignored it thinking it was just the sound of noise from people stirring, but once again she heard it, this time more forceful. She was annoyed, it would still be a few more hours before the servants would come to wake the children and no servant would dare interrupt the slumber of nobility, let alone that of the royal family. She got off the table and silently made her way towards the door. She gripped the handle and carefully placed her ear next to the door.

  "Who is it?" Cirella asked quietly.

  There was a momentary pause and some shuffling.

  "I will not ask again. The guards will be alerted." Cirella demanded.

  "It is I, my lady... your loyal, humble servant." The voice croaked back quietly.

  Rodrick. She thought to herself.

  She did not want to open the door, but she knew better than to ignore him. His appearances, although unpleasant, always brought with it good information that she needed to know; information that she could always leverage to help her family. She had wondered where he scurried off to after the funeral, no doubt scheming behind the scenes with the other houses. The blow they received yesterday was a deadly one and one that seemed to prove fatal. Perhaps their faction may have a way to salvage this. She took a deep breath and allowed him in.

  "It is good to see you so soon again my lady. I hope you slept well." Rodrick said, closing the door behind him.

  "Have you lost what little reasoning you have left? Coming here so casually?" Cirella asked, heading back to the table.

  Rodrick snickered and it made Cirella uncomfortable.

  "Fear not my lady, I made sure I was not followed and I paid off the right guards to look left. Our meeting is safe."

  "How would you know I would be awake?" demanded Cirella. Before Rodrick could answer she raised her hand.

  "Actually, I would rather not know how."

  Rodrick laughed again, approaching her and sitting at the table.

  "Before we begin, might I say... you look lovely on this beautiful morning, few could scarcely compare."

  His comments made Cirella nauseous, she knew he regularly undressed her with his eyes and what she was wearing although covered her, not well enough it seemed. She made a mental note to burn the night attire she was wearing once their business was concluded.

  "Speak to me in that tone again and I will have ravens feast on your innards while you are still alive."

  Rodrick smiled and bowed.

  "A thousand apologies." Rodrick responded.

  "Now what brings you here, to my room where my husband and children sleep." Cirella asked, looking at him intuitively.

  Before he could speak Rodrick looked at the half empty wine bottle and back again at her. Cirella rolled her eyes and waved her hand. Rodrick snatched the bottle with barely a moment to spare and began to feverishly drink the contents of the bottle. A sight that made Cirella regret opening the bottle in the first place. Once he was done he placed the bottle down and cleared his throat.

  "My oh my, one could travel throughout Aurum from Avalon to Laconia to Vistoria and not find wine half as good as what Stygians make in Iliad. Truly it is special." he said, examining the bottle.

  "Rodrick. Get on with it." Cirella said.

  "Hm very well. I was unable to attend the gathering yesterday by the elders. How did it go?"

  "I think you're under the misconception that we are friends. We are not, I am in no mood for friendly gossip." Cirella responded with scorn in her voice.

  "Is that so? From what I heard you might be in desperate need of friends." Rodrick rubbed his finger around the top of the bottle searching for something.

  "From what I heard Daimion made some interesting accusations towards the next king of Iliad in front of many powerful and influential people. Surely your husband cannot be that stupid?" He turned his attention to her.

  Cirella did not respond, not because she did not want to, but she did not have anything to say. Even though in the moment she encouraged her husband to say something, even she could not have thought things would have gone so wrong.

  "... I'm going to take your silence as him being that stupid." snickered Rodrick. "But fear not, all hope is not lost. Far from it."

  "What do you mean?" Cirella sat up.

  "When we entered into this partnership five years ago it was to have Iliad return to its old ways, no longer being a crutch used by the other realms to solve their issues. And the protection of your children." Rodrick began. "It was you and your husband who assumed the only way this was possible was by becoming king."

  "You do not have to recount old history to me. Where are you going with this?" asked Cirella.

  "Would you say over the last five years we have worked to bring that reality closer?" Rodrick took a napkin from his pocket and cleaned his lips.

  "I would say yes... Our partnership has been beneficial for both my family and our supporters." Cirella responded hesitantly.

  Rodrick clasped his hand together and smiled.

  "Good, good. But you see my lady, truth be told our concern is not whether you sit on the throne or not for that is not where power was held." began Rodrick. "Was your husband not Lord Regent during those five years?"

  Cirella did not need to respond for Rodrick to know she understood what he was getting at. It was true over the last five years Daimion did not sit on the throne, it was still the late king Barranagan. Yet in his worsening health, it was the Lord Regent who assumed power. And the current Lord Regent was Daimion Xerxes. The line of succession for Lord Regent was different from that of the crown. While the crown followed traditional Stygian lines, the Lord Regent was a position that was appointed rather than inherited. Even in his weakened state Barranagan was no fool and understood he had no choice but to make his eldest remaining son Lord Regent for what would those think of the royal succession if once again the king could not retain an heir for the third time.

  "Of course!" Cirella exclaimed before covering her mouth with her hands. They both remained quiet waiting to see if her outburst stirred anyone. Moments past and all remained silent. She recomposed herself.

  "Of course, my husband is the current Lord Regent, a position many have argued is as powerful as the king depending on the situation." She finished.

  "Why yes of course, and what better person to help the next king than his own brother who has already ruled for the last five years?" Rodrick nodded his head triumphantly. "We can spin the outburst yesterday under the guise of Lord Daimion being emotional and overzealous. As his father had recently passed away."

  A smile began to cross Cirella's face. This is why she allowed Rodrick to ingratiate himself with her. Despite his personality and his general unpleasantness, his intellect could not be argued. There was hope for her children, all was not lost.

  "B-but will Antares accept this?" she asked softly.

  "He has no choice. The would-be king has spent the last five years drunk and fucking whores in the largest city in all of Iliad. His exploits are well known and that cannot be simply excused. Right now his main goal is to prove to his people he is fit to be king, he cannot afford discord within his castle." Rodrick said, with a toothy smile.

  Cirella took a moment to think about the words, she did not want to simply go along just because he was saying what she wanted to hear, but instead truly see if this was the only outcome, she was tired of being surprised. Antares' exploits outside of Akkad had been well documented; the exiled prince was said to have been completely consumed by the pleasures of the great city of Kish. A city constructed with the single purpose of being everything the Stygians were not. It was a place where those who wished to lose themselves in the decadence of the flesh would flock to, for in that city there was no judgment, no rules, no Gods, only pleasure.

  "What do you need from me?" asked Cirella.

  "To do what you always have done, advise your husband and keep him from making a fool of himself." Rodrick replied candidly.

  "I can do that...Thank you Rodrick, your assistance has been invaluable."

  Although he tried to hide it, a smile could not help but escape from the corner of his mouth. Their conversation had already dragged on longer than Cirella would have liked, daybreak was in full swing and her family would be stirring soon. Rodrick seemed to be of the same mind as he stood up and made way towards the door. This little man she thought to herself had granted her an avenue of hope, there was still a chance her family could be saved. Despite what little she knew of Antares, she knew that he valued his family above all else. That was good, she could use that to ensure the safety of her children from all harm.

  "Ah, one more thing." Rodrick had opened the door slightly.

  A quizzical look came across Cirella's face.

  "About my terms in our little deal, I hope things are still progressing well? All of this is for the safety of my bride-to-be."

  It took every ounce of restraint within Cirella to not strike the back of his head. The manner in which he spoke about Samara, her daughter filled her with rage. His words twisted into her like the finest of blades. She cursed herself for allowing to forget momentarily that his aid came at a steep price; a price that she would not have made had she not been so desperate. The fear she felt years ago forced her to make a rash decision, to align herself with a group that could protect them, for if even the crown prince could be exiled and stripped of his titles, what would happen to her and her children if they stepped out of line, or were not useful? She shuddered at the thought back then.

  "Of course... She is still young, there is still much time before such things like marriage can be discussed." Cirella forced herself to say.

  She could not see his face so she had no way to know what he was thinking or how he was feeling. She was annoyed he brought this up now with his back turned.

  "Hmm yes quite right. But we must not dally, better for her to get used to me sooner rather than later. Have a wonderful morning my true Queen." Before she could respond, Rodrick had already left.

  Cirella quickly closed the door and locked it. She turned her back to the door and with no strength in her legs she slid to the floor and tears filled her eyes. She steadied her breathing and took great care in calming herself down. The children would be up soon and she did not want them to think anything was wrong. At that moment she offered a prayer to Strigga for guidance and forgiveness. Weakness was something she never associated with herself yet it was something she often felt, but she knew no matter what, no matter the outcome of everything that was to come she would never give her daughter to Rodrick. She would sooner rob Samara of her future than cosign her to a future where Rodrick Rokbane be her husband. She composed herself, there was still time, Samara was only seven years young, more than enough time to gain enough power to dispose of Rodrick. He was soon reaching the end of his usefulness.

  Unbeknownst to Cirella, Rodrick was thinking the same thing. Over the last five years he had expertly ingratiated himself into her family, took advantage of her at her most vulnerable. Truthfully they had outlived their usefulness. Of the options to attach himself to, they were the easiest to approach but with the return of the true king, it had complicated matters. Nevertheless everything was still under his control, everything was still within every possibility he could manage. He would not lose, he could not lose. A crooked smile came across his face, in the end he would show them his value, his magnificence.

  ?

  She had been watching him sleep for some time now. His sleeping looked as peaceful as it was to watch. His rhythmic breathing soothed her. He was dreaming, she wondered what of, part of her hoped it was of her. Such a thought made her blush and she had no choice but to look away. And yet, she quickly turned back to catch a glance of him once more. Even in sleep he looked regal, his features were sharp, effeminate in some parts, his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Masculine in other parts, his brow, his nose, his jaw. No longer was he the boy she once knew, who read to her and filled her head with stories of heroes long passed. He was a man now, a stranger, her king. He had such a striking resemblance to their father, one could be forgiven for thinking they were twins. She repeatedly had to stop herself from calling out their fathers name when she saw him. He even sported the same messy hair their father had but not nearly as long. His hair resembled the night, such a deep and rich darkness, under light it sometimes even had a purple hue to it. The stars that glimmered in his hair were full of life and wonder. She remembered back in her youth how she used to lose herself in his hair. To lose herself in his world. She reached out and softly ran her hand through it. Such softness, nothing like her fiery hair. He still wore the common rags he arrived in the day before, the top of his loose poet's collar exposed his bare chest and with it a visible scar that seemed to run across his torso like two lines crossing in the shape of an angled cross. She remembered the first time she saw the scar. Her world teetered on collapse that her own brother could be dealt such a blow. In his absence she often thought of the scar, the pain he must have felt and perhaps still felt. But not today, Guinevere did not want to think of any more suffering. Instead she turned her attention to the rest of the room.

  In the years since his absence she seldom came into his chambers. The memories were too strong, it filled her with rage, regret, sadness and longing. The events of his exile were still not privy to her, no matter how many times she asked their father, no matter how many times she wrote letters to the Lords of War asking for the truth. She was always met with the same frustrating answer. But none of that mattered now, he was here, sleeping in front of her, he was finally back. That is all she cared about, and she would never let him leave again.

  She got up and explored the room. It was spacious, suited for a prince. Every wall was adorned with some kind of tapestry, some of them she knew, others she had no idea about. His fascination with stories and the past were always evident, it was one of the many things she loved about him. Her thoughts were full of memories of when they were younger, and he would tell her stories of famous heroes, both Stygian and human who lived long ago. And what they went through, the passion in his eyes was always captivating. One could be forgiven for thinking this room a miniature library for the books that dominated the shelves were vast. Too much for one person to have read it all, yet she knew he had read every single one of them. Some, many times over. Dust had covered many areas; ordinarily such a place would be kept in great condition seeing as the owner of the room was the crown prince himself. But the king at the time did not want the room to be touched, as though he wished to preserve a moment in time.

  She ran a finger through the table covered with letters, books and papers. A clear line passed through the dust as she looked at her finger. She could not help but get annoyed. If only they spoke to each other she thought, so many years wasted being angry and resentful. Her people were known for being stuck in their ways; they sought the rigidity and familiarity of tradition over the flexibility and uneasiness of emotion and those two embodied the former far too well.

  "Those correspondents are between Aslan Xerxes and his brother Keltyon. They had entered a dead zone near the southern edge of Iliad caused by war days before and blue moon butterflies were useless due to the lack of mana in the air, so they resorted to using letters." The man behind her said.

  She was startled but she did not show it, she turned to face him.

  "Go on." she asked.

  "The issue was that it took days to exchange letters, so any letter received was typically a day or two behind, effectively useless."

  She made her way to the chair next to the bed and sat down.

  "So how did they communicate?" she asked earnestly.

  "Aslan used the interval between messages to gauge the enemies position, if it was a day the enemy was still far away. If it took two or more days the enemy was close since the messenger would have to go the long way around." he continued.

  "How would this help?"

  "It allowed Aslan to use his army as bait to lure the enemy to him so his brother could attack them from the rear. Those letters on my desk are the final words Aslan sent to Keltyon. Informing him of their final location and their efforts to hold the line."

  "Did they?" she asked softly, knowing the answer.

  There was a moment of silence.

  Antares let out a dry laugh, devoid of all emotion. "In the letter Aslan said at best they could hold the line for three days. The casualties would be high, but they could, they would." Antares raised two fingers, "For two days, and two nights Keltyon and an army of twenty thousand strong rode as fast as the winds could carry them. On the morning of the third day they arrived exhausted, but prepared for battle. And battle they did."

  He let his words hang in the air, Guinevere latched on to every single syllable. "The skirmish was swift, only taking a few hours. But as the dust settled, what Keltyon was prepared to see was Aslan and the last remnants of his army on the other side of a sea of corpses. But what the general saw was the dead and rotting bodies of Aslan and a mere hundred or so of his men."

  Guinevere gave him a confused look, "One hundred? Aslan only had that little by his side?"

  Antares shook his head, "From the moment he sent the letter Aslan had no intention of asking thousands of his men to throw their lives in defense of mere land. He lied to them and told them to return to Akkad, he and about a hundred or so would remain to make sure they were not followed."

  "He had no intention of surviving did he?"

  Antares shrugged, "Not quite, he simply just had no intention of trading the lives of his men for his own. If blood were to be spilt that day, let it be his own. For if someone was to become a footnote in such a bloody war, let it be him. Not those who barely understood what they fought for." He finished.

  "What are your thoughts?"

  "They were both reckless and eager to make a name for themselves. Once they realized blue moon butterflies could not work they should have retreated back to Akkad and thought of a new plan. Land is worthless, it can be gained and lost. What is most important are the people. For as long as the people exist, there is no greater value."

  "A bit harsh, they were young men."

  "War is harsh, there is no room for rashness." he said, rubbing his eyes. "But enough about that, did you come here to make sure I didn't run away at night Gwen?"

  Guinevere let out a small laugh. She missed him dearly.

  "The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice on my way here, but the way you enjoyed yourself last night I figured you'd be too drunk to move." Guinevere said teasingly

  Antares furrowed his brow, rubbing his head.

  "When Typhon starts drinking, it's nearly impossible not to try and match his ferocity." He said with a smile escaping his face.

  "You're one to talk, I didn't know you could drink that much... I guess five years is enough time to change a man." Guinevere turned towards the window.

  "I haven't changed enough. I'm still your dear older brother. That won't ever change." Antares said, grabbing her hand and smiling.

  Guinevere's heart started to beat faster. That is what she had been looking for, that smile that she had grown so accustomed to seeing her whole life, a smile that told her that everything was going to be okay. She had feared that smile would never return.

  "Oh yes, my dear and very loveable brother. In fact the most loveable man the city of Kish has ever seen. What is it they call you? The Earl of Lavender?" She said mockingly.

  Antares could not help but blush and look away. It was a moniker he was embarrassed by. His steep fall from grace was softened by his landing in the great city of Kish. His memories of the time bordered between what was real and what was not. The mixture of drink and exotic substances left him in a state of near euphoria. He drowned out the world, but the world was still acutely aware of him. His sexual exploits were the stuff of legends, spreading like wildfire throughout the lands with the assistance of songwriters and playwrights. He was indifferent to what they called him but to know his own sister was aware of these conversations brought him some embarrassment. Antares made a mental note that one of his first decrees as king was the imprisonment of all bards throughout all of Iliad.

  "You know how these bards are, they greatly exaggerate exploits. Big or small." Antares responded.

  " I am sure your exploits were very big." Guinevere giggled.

  "So what really brings you here sister?" Antares looking to move the conversation along.

  Guinevere stood up and went towards the window. She drew the curtain open and a burst of light shone through covering the room in the warm glow of the morning sun. Already far down below, she could see the city of Akkad coming to life. Various houses in the distance had smoke emanating from their chimneys. The city would soon be humming and that meant the day could begin in full earnest.

  "Can't let you be late on your first day as king." Beamed Guinevere. "I've been looking forward to this day for a long time, father wouldn't forgive me otherwise."

  Antares sat up from his bed, a sad expression crossed his face.

  "We haven't had the time to speak about him, about many things, about how I treated you when you-" Antares began.

  Before he could finish his sentence Guinevere launched a pillow at his face, almost knocking him off the bed. It seemed in his absence Guinevere's strength had increased tenfold.

  "There will be time to talk about father later. I am old enough to handle my emotions and how I feel, besides you have a kingdom to govern and I have already forgiven you for your 'welcoming' attitude in Kish. Stop trying to avoid your duties." Guinevere said scolding him.

  "I'm not even king yet, I have yet to even start the ritual or send out rav-"

  "Already taken care of, ravens were sent out to every corner of Iliad several days before you arrived by the elders and father." a large triumphant smile came across Guinevere's face.

  "They knew you would drag your feet and use the time between being named king and your coronation as an excuse to postpone the procession." she continued.

  Antares hung his head in shame, he wished to curse the elders for being so proactive, something that was rare given their desire to always debate on important matters. Still it was not lost on him that even for them this was too eager. It was enough to let him know things were bad, Typhon's appearance in Akkad was the final confirmation he needed. Last he remembered he was stationed at the shore city of Larsa since his exile. Something was amiss, he could sense it in the air, taste it even. He wondered what could have happened during his absence to cause such a fuss so quickly.

  "Are things really that bad?" he asked.

  Guinevere took a moment to think about it, it wasn't that she was unsure how to answer more so, she was debating whether things were really as bad as she thought. Much of Iliad had changed over the course of these five years. It had become far more secular, closing itself off from its allies and the rest of Aurum. Commerce and trade suffered, not for the nobility or the royal family but for the common folk. The strain put on them was starting to grow, a series of conflicts with neighboring realms and conflicts within had made it difficult to raise grain for the coming year. This led to increased cost of goods, such effects were even beginning to be felt within Akkad itself, which meant neighboring towns and villages were sure to be suffering already.

  She did not want to overwhelm her brother with so much, but the truth of the matter was that this was the reality. So she sat back down and began to speak, she spoke of the events after his exile, the years following and the state of Iliad. She touched on many aspects from political conflicts to ones that took place on the battlefield. She spoke of the different factions that arose, Iliad was divided but more importantly the royal family was divided. Power was transferred to the hands of their brother Daimion. His desire to align himself with a faction that wished to return Iliad to the old ways was shocking at first, but it quickly came to be beneficial to them as they were members of nobility who had a monopoly on the Ilian trade. Daimion's rule seemed to benefit them most of all, this further shown by offering to replace all members of the council with Stygian nobility who had direct relations with these men. Of course there were few if any who could challenge this, their father was far too weak and was bedridden, as for those who could oppose they were sent on their own pseudo-exile.

  Casspien was confined to the castle, under close observation. Forced into dealing with land dispute claims. Typhon was sent in the opposite direction west to the port city of Larsa. Unlike Casspien who was made to serve under the Stygian nobility here, the giant Stygian was given control of Larsa and the largest navy in Iliad and commanded to deal with incursions and civil conflicts in the area. There he fought wars both on land and in the sea, matters made worse by the regular clashing with pirate ships from the Storm Islands and those further beyond.

  Guinevere spoke of herself and how she too was sent away by her father to the south-eastern edges of Iliad locked in conflict with the Nephilim of Vanaheimr in an effort to capture Hightower. She did not go into detail about her time there, seeming to avoid the conversation. Antares did not interrupt instead choosing to remain silent and listen. She spoke of the southern city of Eirdu, governed by their kin Xenon Xerxes, a fellow Lord of War. Guinevere had thought perhaps he would have pushed back on closing the borders as Eirdu, and by extension much of Iliad's main source of wealth, came from being a border kingdom, yet Xenon had no objections. In fact he welcomed the closing, which Guinevere later realized played into his hands allowing him complete monopoly on who and what was allowed into Iliad.

  It was clear to anyone, non so much than Antares, that Iliad was tearing itself apart at the seams, stretched too thin in multiple directions. Guinevere had yet to touch on what the other realms were doing during the years since she last saw Antares. But to Antares that was of little concern for now, Iliad was nearing a crossroads. She was in dangerous territory of losing what little power and influence she had, if not already done so. Finally, Guinevere ceased with her report, she hoped this would not be enough to scare her brother away. She looked at him for any sign to see if she could ascertain his thoughts on the matter but she could not. His training as a Lord of War was far too good, his body would never betray what his mind was thinking. An expressionless visage bore on his face. Antares fell back down on his bed and let out a large sigh, a reaction that was not expected.

  "Things have really gone to shit while you've been gone, Antares. Hope you're happy." He said, softly to himself.

  In one fell swoop he leapt out of his bed and gave a big stretch. This was not the moment to feel sorry for himself, or even talk to himself. He needed to further understand what truly has happened to his home in his absence. His first ordeal was dealing with his coronation, depending on who arrived and who didn't would tell him all he would need to know about how the rest of the Stygians felt about him. He turned to his sister.

  "Thank you Guinevere. Gather the council for me please, including Casspien." he said while taking off his shirt and yawning.

  "What about Typhon?" she asked.

  Antares scratched the back of his head and let out a little chuckle.

  "I would actually like my first meeting as future king to go smoothly." he responded lightheartedly.

  King. She liked him referring to himself as that, for that was what he was. He was her king, their king. And he would be the one to fix things, to save their home from those who would wish to cause harm. She stood up.

  "As you command, my king." Guinevere said, bowing deeply.

  She exited the room and Antares began to undress, as he did so he made his way to the door on the opposite side of his room. He walked through and it led to an even larger room, one that was made of a softer marble. It was the prince's own private bathing room. It had been so long since he had been here. It was designed to give off the calming nature of a bath underneath a waterfall. Every corner of it was spotless, there were various smaller miniature pools where one could sit and enjoy the rejuvenating waters. In the center of the room ran an endless waterfall and on each side stood different kinds of liquid soaps, all of different scents.

  As he took a step underneath the waterfall, he allowed the warm water to wash over him. It felt like electricity ran through his body, he could feel his strength returning, his bones seemed to ease underneath the weight. The young prince began to clean himself and as he did he allowed his mind to wander to the conversation he just had with his sister. Such complicated matters his father left him, yet that was not what truly dominated his thoughts. It was that of his younger brother Daimion. He did not understand why Daimion would align himself with such a faction of greedy men who sought power so brazenly. He knew his brother had a sheltered life, while he and the rest of his siblings learned the art of war and many of its harsh and permanent lessons. Daimion was taught art and poetry and diplomacy. To be so easily swayed and by humans no less, it worried him. There was much to do, much to discuss, such was the life of royalty. He still had yet to decide in which manner his coronation would be handled. Even he knew the importance of it. In many ways it would dictate the kind of reign he would have. Antares was unsure of what to do or how to approach it. He would make sure to seek Lady Alena for council on the matter.

  He finished up underneath the bath and made his way back towards his room, the scent he had chosen to use on himself was lavender, a cheeky smile came across his face when he could smell faint traces of it. He dried himself off and began to get dressed. On his bed lay two different garments, both predominantly black as it was still a time of mourning for him and his realm. Yet the one on the right was adorned with various gold accents across it. It was the royal garment of mourning specifically designed for the king. While the clothes to his left was of a simple design of mourning for nobility. It was not as gilded as the one on the right for its accents were of royal purple and some silver around the cuffs and bottom of the pants. Antares instead chose the simpler of the two. As he slipped on the clothes they felt comfortable, snug as though they were designed specifically for him and him alone. In a corner of the room stood a mirror and he used it to fashion his clothes properly. He looked excellent, just as one would expect of royalty. The way his clothes flowed together, truly was breathtaking, Stygian design had no equal throughout all of the realms Antares believed. Although his bias may have assisted his opinion he was not far off from the truth. Stygian designs were unique enough that one could point them out in a crowd of dozens of different styles of clothing. They were also designed in a way that could easily be discerned whether the person was a prince, or princess or one of their various counts and countesses.

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  The telling marker with the outfit Antares was wearing was with the waist cape attached to it, something only worn by the members of the royal family. A distinguishing enough addition to the outfit that even other realms adopted in various ways to mark a distinction within their own royal families. He ran a hand through his raven hair and gazed into his own eyes. Within the setting sun in his eyes, thunder gathered in the horizon. He was satisfied with his appearance.

  The king's council room was located on the northernmost point of the sixth floor of the castle. Throughout history the room had changed many locations and had been on different floors. Each king wanted a different room to house where many would agree the most important people in all of Iliad would be gathered. The castle, more so a labyrinth of twisting and winding marble corridors, was not difficult to traverse for Antares, just as he made his way a day before to the great hall he knew how to avoid as many people as possible to the council room. What many who stayed at castle Xerxes were quick to understand was that there were multiple ways to reach the same destination if one knew how to get there. And yet still he would run into the odd servant here or there shuffling along with their duties. All would stop, bowing and offer platitudes such as 'my king' or 'your grace'.

  The servants of castle Xerxes were all human, many of them inhabitants from the city of Akkad itself and some even further away. To serve the oldest house in all of Aurum was an honor that many fought over. One could go their whole life dreaming of the opportunity to serve such rulers who had the power to shape the lives of millions. And yet whatever their dream, the reality was far grander. So for Maria who had already had an eventful day yesterday meeting prince Antares, she believed she had achieved her life's calling. This would be a story that she would tell her grandchildren, that would pass down throughout her family. Of course she knew the chances of seeing the prince again would be near impossible, she had only recently come into serving the great house of Xerxes and being only fourteen years young, she would be resigned to kitchen duty for years, decades perhaps. But today she was once again tasked with cleaning a less traveled corridor.

  She had gotten lost many times on her way here and still she felt she had not seen a fourth of the entire castle. It was so much grander than she could have ever thought. And yet what occupied her thoughts was the prince, she so wished to see him again. She had heard many stories about him from the other servants who had seen and even spoken to him. But none of their comments about his appearance did him justice. He was utterly beautiful, the most beautiful person she had ever seen in her life. But most of all he was nice to her. She knew Stygians could be intimidating, she had met many, especially in Akkad. They were far more common than she had thought when she first moved here and in their presence she felt uncomfortable. But the members of the royal family were different, she couldn't explain it but the air around them just felt different, the pressure they exuded while walking was divine. Even still when she looked into the prince's eyes, it was something else. She felt a cool sensation of peace wash over her, it was as though just by looking at him she felt at ease. Remembering the day before she could not help but let out a little shriek and twirl.

  Oh how she wished to be a noble of some kind, to dance with the prince, she picked up the mop and imagined she was in the great hall, wearing the most beautiful of dresses. She would take the prince's hand and they would dance the night away in front of everyone. She glided effortlessly across the marble floors, pirouetting with the ease of a bird. She had seen one of the noble ladies do this during a festival a few days ago and only needed to see it once to mimic it. She knew she wasn't as graceful but still she tried her best.

  "You know, with a little more practice, you could become a dancer." A voice said from behind her.

  Maria screamed, turning her attention to the person. She had hoped it was not one of the head servants for she could not afford to get in trouble, she had only just got this position and this was an opportunity for her and her family. But when she saw who it was that spoke to her she wished it was one of the head servants, in fact she wished it was the first ruler of the Stygians, Strigga herself, anyone but him. It seemed the redder her face got the more he smiled, before long her legs that were so graceful had turned limp underneath and she collapsed to the ground lowering her head begging for forgiveness.

  "M-My pri- I-I mean my king!" Maria said, forcing the words out of her mouth.

  "Oh, I'm no king yet Maria, but please let me not interrupt you. Would you like a partner?" Antares gestured to her with his hand extended.

  Many thoughts ran through Maria's head at that moment, the first being that Antares remembered her name. She was new here, even the head servants she served under did not remember her name for there were hundreds of them. No one knew her, she was one of many. Despite that, here twice in as many days, her name was spoken by the king to be, by her king. It filled her with a feeling she could not describe. Her chest became extremely warm and she struggled to breathe slightly. But she had no fear, she slowly raised her head and saw his hand still outstretched and a warm smile across his face. She hesitated at first, but she moved her hand closer to his own and held it.

  Warm, she thought, yet soft too. She struggled to her feet but it felt like his one hand could support her frail body. She stood up face still red, she could not meet his eyes and instead still looked at the floor. Before she knew it, he brought her in close, very close. Antares towered over her and she instinctively stood on her toes to reach closer to him. Antares in kind lowered himself towards her. She did not have time to react and they were already near face to face. At that moment Maria thought she was dreaming, no, she hoped she was. For if it was a dream she prayed this moment would last forever, and she would never wake up from it. Antares placed another hand on her hip and delicately intertwined his left hand with her right hand.

  "You see." he began "The trick is to move in harmony with your partner. To move as one." He said as he began to move with her.

  At first he started slowly, allowing her to get used to his weight, and presence. Maria had no base of reference for dancing, all she knew was what she saw at taverns or what she heard about in stories from bards, but she could tell Antares was very good at it. He started to pick up pace and they glided across the corridor. Maria grew in confidence with each step she took and she could feel the background melt away. No longer were they in the corridors of castle Xerxes, but instead they were outside in a field underneath the night sky. They danced and twirled and moved as though they were one. To her in that moment, it felt as though their hearts beat in sync, everything began to make sense. He spun her around once more, brought her in and bent her over. His face, mere inches from her own. The night sky they danced under gave way to a brilliant rising sun, or perhaps it was a setting sun. Maria could not tell. She was enamored with the scene within Antares eyes; such a wondrous sun covered in vibrant purple and blue and orange skies. She was left transfixed. He brushed the blonde hair away from her to reveal a soft blue-eyed freckled face that had gone completely red. He could not help but smile, her lips quivered and it took everything within Maria to remind herself to keep breathing.

  "Well that's the idea behind it anyway. Forgive me it's been years since I've had any practice, I am a poor teacher." Antares said bowing.

  Had it not been for the mop holding her up she would have collapsed to the floor, all strength left her and she could not even muster a response. Antares turned to look out the window.

  "Ah would you look at the time, I'm late. Take care Maria, and keep practicing." He said walking past her.

  Maria watched him gracefully walk away, she had thought yesterday the highlight of her life, seeing not only lady Alena but the prince himself, yet today, what she had just experienced surely this was the crowning moment of her life. To have had a dance with the king-to-be, with the prince Antares. Call it shock, or hubris she felt as though if she continued to work here she would have many more encounters with the prince. But as she watched his back as he rounded the corner she did not know why the thought crossed her mind, the prince gave no indication of it in any way, but to her when she looked at him even when he smiled, he looked incredibly sad. In that spot there she stood mop in hand, she would ask him if he was okay the next time she saw him. She made a vow to herself she would.

  As Antares approached the Council room he could already hear a large commotion brewing inside, his unpleasant demeanor was changed when he ran into Maria and with the thought of dealing with whatever was happening behind that door it soured his mood once more. He wondered why things could not be like they were with Maria, but he quickly removed the thought from his head. He was never meant to have an easy life, far from it. That option was taken from him the day he was born. The guards stationed at the door upon seeing the prince quickly saluted with enough force to rattle the door. That was enough to quiet the commotion occurring. They opened the door and all the men inside but three Stygians stood up. Antares took note.

  "The king enters!" shouted one of the guards.

  Antares waved his hand in acknowledgement and everyone returned to their seats. He gave a nod to the guards and they closed the door behind him.

  He surveyed the room, it was far too cramped with the amount of people inside. Another time he would have smiled for his memories of this room were plenty, times when he, Nykolas, Casspien and Typhon would sneak in here at night to pretend to deal with matters of the realm. The times he would accompany his father and sit in the back just watching and listening as they discussed matters he did not understand. They were pleasant memories defiled by the presence of men who he deemed unworthy.

  "Brother!" Daimion barked, moving closer to him. "I Hope you ha-"

  Antares cut him off.

  "If you are not a member of this council, leave. Now." he stated matter of fact.

  There was no malice behind his words, no force either. He spoke in the most monotone manner he could, devoid of any emotion in his words. It was as though the decree was given by the very room itself, those who had not earned the right to be in this space let alone speak had no right to be here. He was not king yet, but still his words held every weight of one, Casspien smiled. There was no uproar or even any kind of dissent. All of them were prideful men, all of them had been born into great families and some even achieved great things. But in the presence of the would-be king chosen by the elders themselves and most of all a Lord of War, none of them were foolish enough to oppose his decree. One by one they exited the room, none able to meet the prince's gaze, instead electing to bow and shuffle their way out. Until only 6 remained.

  "You may sit." Antares said to the remaining men who stood.

  Grygor and Aias sat down in their respective seats. Whereas Casspien sat in the corner observing in silence.

  "How wonderful of you brother. Thank you, it's always a shouting match here." Daimion said, taking his seat at the end of the table closest to the door.

  Antares walked around the table towards the opposite end where the king would sit, he observed every member of the table without turning his head. He studied their reaction and their demeanor. So this is the den of vipers, he thought. He got to the chair reserved for the king and sat down uncomfortably. All other times he had sat here he was either a child or playing pretend, but this time, it was all real. He sat there as the next ruler of an entire kingdom, of a realm. He felt as though the chair would break underneath his weight.

  He looked up at the men sitting before him, Grygor and Aias he knew, the Lord Architect and Lord Scholar respectfully. They still looked not much older than him despite both being over four centuries old, to his knowledge. He offered them a kind smile and both returned with a small bow. They were Stygians who were part of his fathers council; he was glad they still remained. Even his father stated how their involvement was necessary for him to assume the crown over a century ago. To his left sat two men he had never seen before, they too were Stygian but his recollection of who they were was lost to him.

  He gazed at the orbs in front of each of the men. Each orb represented what the person sitting there was a Lord of, a tradition that had been around for thousands of years. Only those who had the orb were allowed in the room, unless specifically asked to by the king. For such an old tradition to be desecrated so easily it angered him, but he did well to hide it. At least for now.

  He reached out for his orb in its socket in front of him. He grasped it in his hand, it was made out of obsidian, it was heavy, sturdy and glowed dimly, even in the morning light. In the center suspended in time there sat crystallized ice in the shape of a snake's eye. This orb was one of the many representations of power throughout Aurum. So many had died to hold this, millions across many ages. And here he held it calmly in his hand. He set it back down in its socket.

  "So this is a regular occurrence?" Antares asked.

  "Oh yes, you know how the nobles are, always complaining about this or that." Daimion said flippantly.

  "You speak of returning Iliad to the old ways and yet you allow one of our most sacred traditions to be desecrated so easily?" responded Antares.

  Daimion hesitated in his response and one of the men to his right responded for him.

  "Ah If I may your lordship-." the man sitting in front of the orb with a gold coin in it began.

  "You may not." Antares said, cutting him off. "I was speaking to the Lord Regent."

  The man cleared his throat and sulked back into his chair, Antares turned his attention back to his brother waiting for an answer.

  "Um well you see brother, it's easier to have the nobles here voice their opinion that way we can address matters far more quickly." Daimion struggled to finish his sentence.

  "Is that so?" Antares asked, looking at the rest of the table.

  All men nodded in agreement except for Grygor and Aias who could not meet their princes' eyes.

  Antares clasped his hands together, startling everyone except for Casspien.

  "Oh very well then, moving on to matters." he said with a beaming smile. "Daimion if you don't mind telling me about the state of Iliad, I'd love to hear."

  Daimion was already uncomfortable, Antares demeanor had so suddenly changed. He was unsure how to react. Even as he saw his brother smile, there was no warmth in it. But what brought him even greater discomfort was that he was not used to sitting in the chair of the Lord Regent, he was far more accustomed to sitting in the chair his brother now annoyingly occupied. More so he felt this was more an interrogation than a meeting. He thought Antares would not have made it drinking so late last night, yet to his surprise, he arrived on time to the council meeting.

  Daimion had hoped to use the moment before Antares arrival to sway more favor for himself and try his best to recoup some dignity from the night before. But that was quickly made futile with the presence of Casspien in the corner. He could do nothing but indulge in the incessant whining of the nobles. Never once getting the opportunity to defend his previous actions. In some ways he thought it better they so casually moved on from his embarrassment the day before.

  Daimion's thoughts quickly shifted to far more pressing matters. For instance, he did not understand how they were all so relaxed to carry on as usual. The mere presence of Casspien made the whole room suffocating. The pressure emanating from the man in the corner was potent. However what worried him even more was the sensation that he could not feel any pressure from Antares, if he was not directly looking at him, he would not have known he was there. He wondered when his brother started making him so uncomfortable, how many years had it been now, that look he gave him, the same one their father did.

  "Well you know, Iliad is massive, we are doing well. To go into everything right now would take the whole day." Daimion began. "There is far too much to do, with your coronation and all. I would not want to keep you."

  "Nonsense, I've been gone for five years. There is much I am sure I need to know, the coronation is still several days away please go ahead." Antares countered leaning in.

  "Um well." Daimion was stumbling over his words, unsure of where to take the conversation, he looked to the other lords for assistance. None seemed to want to speak, so he thrusted the task on to his allies.

  "As I said before," he began. "There is much to discuss, but if you wish to know it is better to ask each lord individually, starting with the Lord of Gold..."

  Antares turned his attention to the Lord of Gold. He was a thin man, even for a Stygian. His black hair was braided low, he sported a very long face that was full of vigor and life. But his eyes betrayed his age. His sunset eyes held a tired look, the violet and orange colors that danced in his eyes lacked much vibrance. They were eyes that had seen much and at the same time nothing at all. Even still, like all Stygians, the man still carried an envious face, such beauty and structure to his features. Antares felt as though he knew him but could not quite recall from where, which was strange. His appearance was nothing out of the ordinary, he adorned many gold rings and earrings. When he smiled there was a shine to it because of the gold in it. He reminded the prince of what modern Stygians in Kish looked like, those who looked more human than Stygian in their dressing. The desire for material wealth was something that was a trademark for humanity that Antares was keenly aware of. The man was at least a few centuries older than Antares, yet he carried himself far younger than that. He was one of the three who did not stand when he entered the room. Antares was amused at what this man would say, he was interested in what they would all say. Before the man could speak he raised his hand again, interrupting him.

  "Speaking of the Lord of Gold, I do not seem to know your name, or the names of any of you. Forgive me." Antares rubbed the back of his head. "Please would you be so kind as to tell me your names?"

  They all nodded in unison, starting with the Lord of Gold, he spoke first stating his name to be Omiros Xerxes. It was then that Antares remembered who he was. They were cousins, specifically Omiros was a distant relative of the royal family, still it made him royalty to some degree. Unlike humans, every Stygian bore the same last name and were all related. House Xerxes was the largest house in all of Aurum, millions called its hallowed halls their ancestral home. And these three were no exception. Faint memories of his youth flooded his mind of Omiros, growing up Antares was exposed to many members of his large family. It was part of his education to understand just where it is he came from and just how many people called him kin. He had always been good at recalling names of those he knew, yet these two escaped him.

  Omiros spoke, he talked for some time about the state of Iliad and gold and the various ways it was growing despite what others might believe. Stygian businesses throughout the realm were thriving and for the first time in centuries there was growth within Stygian circles in various cities across the realm. As he mouthed off he threw in platitudes for Daimion's leadership throughout these last five years; how without his guidance and leadership Iliad could not have grown as much as it had so quickly. Calling upon his upbringing in diplomacy as a cornerstone for facilitating such a wide growth amongst their people.

  In that moment Antares could not help but recall his teachings on what the Lord of Gold was responsible for. In truth many could argue outside of the king, the Lord of Gold was the most important member of the council, they effectively controlled the flow of war within the realms borders and sometimes outside. For many could have an abundance of reasons to pick up a blade, but no reason grander than that of gold. It was something Antares was acutely aware of and had to learn growing up. A lesson he never forgot.

  As Omiros finished his speech, his tepid demeanor had completely changed to one of confidence, he was proud of himself and of his actions. "So why has General Guinevere not received any aid over the last year?" Antares yawned. Sleep still called to him.

  "Excuse me?" Omiros pulled on his collar reflexively.

  "Why has General Guinevere not received aid?" Antares mouthed it slowly in hopes Omiros would be able to understand better. "You talk of all this money Iliad has accrued over the years, yes, yet Guinevere has been locked in a stalemate at Hightower for two years now, without reinforcements or aid."

  "From what I have been able to gather, her army has been forced to take from the neighboring villages and towns. Which is reserved for only the most extreme of cases. So again, why is the daughter of the king, a General, not sent aid?" Antares rubbed his temple, hoping to distract himself from sleep.

  "Um well you see." Began Omiros, looking back towards Daimion.

  Antares tapped his finger on the table.

  "No, no, don't look at him. Look at me. You were eager to speak for him before." Antares said.

  "Well, the efforts to retake Hightower from the Nephilim have gone longer than we expected. We had hoped lad- General Guinevere would have had an overwhelming victory already." Omiros finished.

  "What do you mean 'hoped'?" asked Antares

  Omiros sported a confused look.

  "You mean to tell me you sent one of our youngest generals to retake Hightower, the Hightower and all you've sent her over the years is hope?" he chuckled, yet he was not amused.

  "We had given her the necessary funds."

  "Yes I understand, for a year's worth, but had she not sent letters or a Blue Moon Butterfly asking for more aid?"

  "She... she did."

  "So you did nothing?" asked Antares.

  "Antares you see, the issue is that yes profits have increased throughout Iliad but we are currently stretched throughout the realm dealing with other issues." Daimion chimed in.

  "Then why not use the royal treasury?" Antares offered.

  There was a moment of silence as Daimion and his fellow allies exchanged glances between themselves. Antares turned to Casspien who had diligently been sitting there quietly and turned back to the group.

  "You see... The royal treasury is a bit empty." Daimion could not bring himself to look at his brother's face as he muttered those words. For the first time showing shame.

  "What do you mean a bit empty? How much is a bit?" Antares switched his focus between Daimion and Omiros waiting for an answer.

  That is when lord Aias chimed in.

  Clearing his throat. "Empty enough that we had to borrow two hundred and fifty thousand gold coins... from the Golden Company. In your fathers name... my liege."

  "Did my father know?"

  "No."

  There was a moment of silence that felt all consuming. None could meet Antares' gaze, even still it was not as though the prince was looking at any of them. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The first thought that came to mind was that he was glad he had not asked Typhon to attend the meeting. People would have died. The second thought that entered his mind was that of the Golden Company. Perhaps the greatest example of human greed. The largest and only bank in all of Aurum, situated in the pacifist kingdom of Neith ruled by its pious king, Edward Vezimeer. They alone control the entire flow of money throughout Aurum and her various kingdoms. Thousands of years ago when the realms were once more thrown into a constant state of war, merchants disillusioned by the consequences of it banded together and sought refuge from the bloodshed. The only realm that offered such peace was Neith, a land where violence was not permitted. There they begged the then king Coltard for protection, and in kind he granted them lands within his realm.

  Although the merchants had left all they had behind to escape war, they did not leave behind their penchant for opportunity. In Neith they quickly realized the freedom they were able to operate in and before long managed to found a merchant guild that would come to be known as The Golden Company. From within the safe borders of their new home, golden arches stood tall leading to a truly magnificent structure that seemed to touch the very skies itself. Truly a work of art like no other, even Stygians themselves marveled at its sheer size and scale. A personification of their endless wealth, they could operate throughout the realm lending and assisting those who could afford to pay. For a merchant there is no time more profitable than war and the Golden Company took advantage of it. Using Coltard's naivety they managed to amass enough wealth within a century that rivaled the other 9 realms combined. King Coltard's name is praised within the hallowed golden halls of the Company's massive bank and even within Neith. But to the rest of Aurum, Coltard was nothing more than a fool who allowed rats to dig their claws into his kingdom, for many believe the true rulers of Neith are the company and not the royal family for even pacifists require coin.

  What made the company so formidable was not their wealth or their ability to buy an army at a moment's notice, no, there was no central figure to rule. It is difficult to ascertain who the original creator of the company was for not even the Golden Company's own records have no one single person, instead it is a cabal of many, for they believed this unity would be their greatest strength and it has been for all this time.

  After all this time Antares thought, the Golden Company had finally gotten their claws within Iliad. Through no effort of their own, for the royal family, the Stygian royal family to borrow gold was a disgrace far too great to ignore. He did not have to ask, he knew only those present here were aware of the truth. If such a thing were ever to be made public, the consequences would be far too severe and Iliad would be further torn asunder. But what bothered him most of all was the thought of Iliad not being able to pay off her debts. The Golden Company may be a guild full of merchants, but their power and influence were not to be taken lightly.

  "How long do we have to repay? He asked softly.

  No one wished to speak except the Lord of Grain.

  " Two seasons... possibly four if we can ask for an extension with a higher interest rate." he said.

  "And you are?" Antares said, turning to him.

  He was an older man, older than Omiros. His eyes were filled with contempt for the prince, it made Antares smile. With just a single look Antares knew this man, had no fear of him. Good, he thought. It would make their conversation far more interesting. Men who were not afraid often revealed more than those too scared to speak.

  "Aldios, your lordship."

  Antares did not know of him.

  "Have we met before lord Aldios?" Antares asked.

  "Yes, but it was not a meeting that either of us would remember." Aldios said, coolly.

  Aldios had an air of superiority around him reserved only for members of the Stygian royal family. That much was evident the moment Antares walked into the room. Outside of Casspien he was the first to notice his approach. He wore the standard attire reserved for members of the royal family yet he was in no mourning. Silver and white dominated his clothing. He looked as elegant as he must have felt. His face was hard and presumptuous. Everything about him was meticulous from his braided hair wrapped around tightly behind his head down to the fine pieces of jewelry that brilliantly shined on his fingers. His eyes were filled with the same sunset colors that Stygians held, but far more sunken than most, which gave it even an even brighter glow. He was clean shaven except for a long goatee that had been braided and bound together by gold. Aldios' style could not be questioned, he was a representation of Stygian elegance all humans aimed to mimic.

  "Yet you seem to." retorted Antares.

  Aldios scoffed and looked ahead.

  "You don't seem to be bothered by borrowing from the Golden Company?" asked the prince.

  "Why would I allow myself to be bothered by humans?" Aldios looked as though acknowledging human's caused him pain.

  "You are not bothered by not being able to pay back such a large amount of money?"

  "I never said we couldn't pay. We borrowed money to cover Guinevere's failure at Hightower. But we will pay it back." Aldios said.

  Antares rubbed his chin, he thought of how best to phrase his next point, he would not let the slight on his sister go. But this was good, from his conversation with Guinevere he already surmised the reason she did not receive aid was because they deemed her war a failure. But now he had verbal confirmation from those in power. None at the table seemed to see Aldios' mistake, none except Antares and Daimion.

  "What Lord Aldios is trying to say, the failure to capture Hightower. Not of Guinevere herself." Daimion added.

  Aldios was now aware of his mistake, but it was too late.

  "So you plan to increase tax collection and the cost of grain throughout Iliad to pay back the Company don't you?" Antares ignored Daimion's comments and leaned in closer to Aldios.

  For the first time in the room, Aldios showed an expression he had not made in over a century. Genuine shock.

  "How did you-!?" Barked the Lord of Grain.

  Antares threw his arms up in defense.

  "Oh come now it is not hard to draw such a conclusion. It is an effective tactic that's been used time and time again throughout the nine realms. Quite honestly It is a good plan, though I will say... It is very human of you Lord Aldios, praying on the weak."

  Aldios stood up enraged. "How dare you!" he yelled.

  "Sit. Down."

  The air in the room became unbearably heavy. It was as though pressure was flowing from every corner of the room and uniformly pressing down on them. The lord of the kings council felt as though they were in grave danger, the feeling one felt looking at a beast mere inches away. Daimion grabbed the edge of the table to stop himself from completely falling over. He had felt this pressure only a few times before in his life, memories flooded his mind of his father. The other lords looked visibly shaken by the sudden change of pressure, none so more than Aldios. For he bore the full ire of the Lord of War sitting in the corner. Admittedly he had forgotten what it felt like to be in the presence of such power, such overwhelming power that had no end in sight. He had always carried himself with an air of superiority even among his own kin. His life had been one of staying in the background, observing and using information to further push his desires. In this moment he remembered why he chose such a path, for to draw the attention of monsters like that, was to draw the attention of death itself. He could not even comply with the order given as he was unable to move, his body refused to listen to him for it was completely terrified of taking any action. To him it had felt as though he had turned to stone, he braced himself for what was to come.

  "Oh come now, enough of that Cass. I was only teasing him." Antares waved his hand at Casspien in a mocking manner.

  "Forgive him my lords, Lord Casspien is not a morning person." Antares said, bowing his head towards the other lords.

  They all muttered words of acceptance in some form or another and all began to regain their composure. Antares turned to Casspien who folded his arms in disapproval. The atmosphere in the room returned to normal. This council had reached its breaking point, there was no point for further discussion.

  "Perhaps we call for a break now, yes? I still have matters about my coronation to attend to and all that. Thank you my lords, this was... insightful." Antares had already risen and bowed.

  All lords quickly followed suit and shuffled their way out except for Daimion.

  "Brother, would you like me to stay?"

  "Oh no That is alright, go do what it is you... normally do Daimion. If I need you, I will call for you." Antares said with a smile on his face.

  Daimion looked at his brother, then looked at Casspien and meekly left the room, closing the door behind him. Grygor and Aias had already made their way in the opposite direction deep in conversation with each other. In front of him Omiros and Aldios waited impatiently, and they began their walk.

  "Call a meeting of the faction and the humans too, we must move up our plan." Aldios said coolly.

  "Wait what? Why?" demanded Daimion.

  "You fool, he knows." Aldios responded harshly.

  "You would dare speak to me lik-" Daimion began before he was interrupted by Omiros.

  "Enough. Lord Aldios, how do you know?" Omiros asked worriedly.

  They walked in silence for a time, moving as far away from that room as they could possibly get.

  "He did not once ask Grygor or Aias any questions." Aldios could no longer hold his disdain for it was written all over his face.

  "He knows both Grygor and Aias, they served underneath my father." retorted Daimion.

  "Precisely my point. He should have relied heavily on them to fact check anything we said, yet not once did he even look at them. His focus was entirely on the three of us."

  Daimion stopped, shocked by the realization of his brother possibly knowing what it was he was after. Both Aldios and Omiros turned to look at him.

  "This-this is too soon, we are not ready. This is treason."

  Aldios grabbed Daimion's arm and shoved him into a narrow pathway.

  "You fool, how can you so casually talk of such things. Do you not understand where we are? Do not let these marbled walls fool you, they have ears. Vipers lurk around every corner." Aldios barked in his face. "For five years we have cultivated partnerships with certain people in preparation for this. Do not falter now!"

  Daimion could not hide his concern, his disdain for his brother was well known, yet even though he was the face of this faction, he never once thought the idea of treason was possible. For it was such a foreign concept. He had been told time and time again his brother was a drunkard and a whoremonger who spent his days in Kish of not sound mind. But that was not the man he saw in that room when he looked into his eyes. For those were the same eyes his father always had, and it worried him.

  "But we are talking of killing Antares." whispered Daimion.

  "Yes, we have painstakingly gathered the men to do it. All of us here know, he is unfit to rule, damn what he did five years ago. I will not allow our people to be ruled by a man who is so willing to accept humanity. We are Stygians, we are superior, we do not need the nine realms, they need us!" Aldios had a wild look in his eye.

  "A-Aldios is right, Daimion. Do you not want your family protected? Your brother being king means he is free to wed off your daughter to whomever he wishes under the guise of peace." chimed Omiros.

  "Exactly, she is only seven years old and he will throw her to a human like a piece of meat. You would do the same in his shoes, you cannot afford to hesitate." demanded Aldios.

  "All we do is for Iliad, for Stygians." Omiros added.

  "He may smile in your face and laugh and call you brother but he does not see you as an equal, you think you will remain Lord Regent on his council? Blame will fall to you when the truth gets out." Aldios added, letting go of Daimion, believing this final nail would spur him to action.

  Daimion moved further into the pathway. He wished to see Cirella, she would know what to do.

  "I-I need to speak with Cirella." He pleaded.

  Aldios slammed his fist against the wall.

  "Ah! Damn it all, must you speak to her about everything? You are the husband are you not? It was you we selected to be the leader of the faction, it was you who wished to return us to the old ways. Decide here and now what we must do!" yelled Aldios.

  Daimion was unsure, this was different from anything he had to have done before. He had never once given such a command, instead chose to delegate to those lower than him. His action here today would be recorded in history for centuries to come. What they wished to do would undoubtedly bring a great shift to Iliad and possibly Aurum. For if he were to take his brother's life he would be the unquestioned ruler of Iliad, he would be Lord Regent no more, he would be king. He thought of his family, he thought of Guinevere and he thought of Anastasia. He wondered what they would say if they knew. But there was no time for that now, it was time for action. He wiped the sweat off his brow.

  "Alright," he began. "I... understand, for the safety of my family, for the future of Iliad, Antares cannot sit on the throne." Daimion concluded.

  Both Omiros and Aldios shook their heads in approval.

  "Good, good you understand. Leave it to us. It will happen after the coronation. That will give us enough time to gather even more allies during the celebrations leading up to it. I already have some assurances from some cousins of my own. There may be a Lord of War or two who will support us." finished Aldios.

  All three of them recomposed themselves and began once more on their way. What they set out to do was not something unique or even uncommon. Time and time again rarely is the transition of power from one monarch to the next such a smooth process. But there was a time within Iliad, kings and queens were chosen with very little opposition. Yet such things seemed to become more infrequent the more humans were allowed to carry more and more titles, thought Aldios. For him, he blamed them, he had always blamed them for as long as he could remember. They had infected his people with their way of thinking with their propensity to reject the status-quo. No longer will he allow it, for in his eyes humans are best as servants. Iliad will return to the old ways and in time all of Aurum would fall under Stygian rule once again. Their first obstacle was the pretend-king. Antares represented everything Stygians shouldn't be, Aldios did not care that he was a Lord of War, he knew the stories and had firsthand experience during the great civil war 200 years ago. But they were killed in droves back then and once again they could be killed. He would see his glorious people return to their old ways.

  "So what do you think?" Asked Antares relaxing further into the chair.

  "It was a good thing you didn't ask Typhon to show up." Casspien got up from the corner and sat next to his dearest friend.

  "I thought the same thing." Antares said smiling.

  "Typhon is not known for his subtlety and I doubt he could stomach such insults. I barely could." Casspien furrowed his brow.

  "It is to be expected, I am not necessarily seen in favorable light, by neither human nor Stygian right now." Antares began to roll the orb in between his fingers. "Besides, this was good, I needed confirmation."

  "Guinevere told me she would speak to you about the realm. Even so, your grasp of thing's she wouldn't be aware of was impressive. How did you know what they were doing these last five years?" asked Casspien.

  "I learned a great many things in exile brother." responded Antares.

  "Such as?"

  Antares gazed into the orb as though he could see a secret deep within it that called to him. "No one knows more about this kingdom than whores. Truly it is a profession like no other, men so eager to speak for the praise and admiration of a woman or a man is as intoxicating as the flesh itself."

  "You learned all of that from drinking and having sex?" Casspien raised an eyebrow.

  The two men shared a laugh. This had been the first time in five years that either of them had sat down together and spoken like so. Their bond ran deep, deeper than blood. Together with Typhon and Nykos they made up the youngest Lords of War Iliad and by extension Aurum had ever seen. They had been through far too much and yet neither of them said it but in that moment both of their thoughts went to Nykolas. Both desperately wished he was still here. The guilt was evident on Antares face. His actions unforgivable to himself.

  "We don't have to talk about it now. Or tomorrow, or even the day after that. When you are ready, both me and Typhon will be ready to listen Antares. Always." Casspien said reassuringly with a soft smile on his face.

  Antares could not bring himself to speak, Casspien's words made him feel so incredibly happy yet so sad. He and Typhon truly were people he could not live without. They represented the good in him, the future of Iliad that he wished for both humans and Stygians. He would do right by them, always. They were a part of him as much as he was of them. Antares' stomach growled, breaking the silence.

  "Let's go eat, it's already midday." Antares said standing.

  "Typhon should be up by now." Casspien responded, grabbing for the door.

  "He better be, if Lady Alena finds out he's still asleep he's going to be forced to help out with the coronation."

  The guards saluted them as they passed and they made their way down the hall towards the lower levels to where the dining hall was situated. The quickest way there required them to use the largest corridors and thus every few meters they ran into nobles and servants all greeting them and congratulating Antares on his appointment as king. This was not something he missed and Casspien enjoyed that it made the young prince uncomfortable. But Antares couldn't help but notice that decorations for his coronations had already begun to appear, throughout the palace as they walked he was sure Lady Alena was behind it. It had not been a full day and she was already hard at work, there would still be a few days until everything was ready but she did not waste any time.

  "That reminds me." began Casspien. "You have yet to pick the manner in which your coronation will take place. Have you given any thought to it?

  "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't but it's a surprise so wait and see." Antares said, winking slyly.

  Casspien was curious to know what he would pick, for when King Barranagan had his coronation it was remarkably quick not lasting longer than a few minutes, but knowing Antares it wouldn't be anywhere that short, the elders nor Lady Alena would allow him. As they walked down another flight of stairs they made it back down to the first level, and the sight that awaited them was of various people moving about frantically from one place to another. The crowd of people all noticed him and immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed deeply for a few moments and then a woman barked orders and everyone quickly returned to their tasks. The palace had always been busy but even this was far more than they expected. Yet in the crowd of people propping up flowers and hanging banners, there stood a titan of a man with blazing red hair holding statues. Next to him, a woman barking orders on where to move the statue. Both of them could not help but laugh. As they approached them, Typhon gave them a look of utter desperation while holding two stone statues in his hands.

  "Good day to you lady mother." Antares said bowing.

  "Good day Lady Alena." followed Casspien.

  Lady Alena turned around and looked at the men.

  "Ah boys good, you're here!" she said beaming. "I thought you were at the king's council?"

  "I ended it much earlier, I heard all I needed to hear." stated Antares.

  "You had your first king's council and you didn't invite me?" bemoaned Typhon putting down the statues.

  Lady Alena shot him a look. "Did I say you can put those down?"

  Just as he put down the statues he quickly picked them up and bowed in forgiveness.

  "Typhon you sleep much too long when you drink, it wasn't anything special anyways." Antares said, patting him on the shoulder.

  "It's true. Besides, it's not like you would have contributed anything worthwhile to the discussion." added Casspien.

  "Lady Alena, may I hit Lord Casspien with the statues?" asked Typhon.

  "You may not. That statue is of the patron mother Delilah Xerxes and her daughter Venus. I will have you clean the entire royal stable, four times if there is so much as a scratch on her."

  "... Yes my lady." Typhon glared at Casspien. Casspien ignored him.

  "Where are you going, my little boys?" asked Alena.

  "We wanted to go to the dining hall to eat. The king-to-be skipped breakfast." responded Casspien.

  "You are both free to join us." added Antares.

  There was a sparkle in Typhon's eye. He had not had the opportunity to eat anything yet for he had slept in and Lady Alena woke him and put him to work as punishment. He was about to speak but knew better, despite her appearance Lady Alena was a viper and caution needed to be used when dealing with her. He had fought some of the most dangerous people Aurum had to offer, fought in wars where victory was near impossible. Yet his greatest opponent was the queen consort of the late great king Barranagan. It was a foe he could not beat with simple tactics. He waited for her answer with baited breath.

  "Hmm I suppose so. It would be the first time in a long time the four of us shared a meal together." thought lady Alena out loud. "Hmm yes. I suppose so. Come Typhon."

  "Ye-yes my lady!" Typhon beamed.

  "Are you sure lady Alena, just the three of us might be more pleasant." Casspien added leaning in, yet speaking loud enough so Typhon could hear.

  "Casspien, brother! My dearest friend, who I haven't seen in many seasons, would you perhaps not speak? Possibly ever?" Typhon said through gritted smiled teeth.

  "And where would the fun be in that?" asked Casspien, returning the smile in kind.

  "Enough you two, let's go eat. I'm hungry." Antares said, rubbing his belly, their fighting making him famished. "Where is Guinevere, she should join us."

  Lady Alena waved her hand in the air. "Oh don't worry about her, she's off training, she eats on her own time. Come lets go, we have much to discuss. Such as the kind of coronation you want. And I absolutely refuse for you to have one like your father did. Do you have one in mind?"

  Antares smiled. "Let's go, I'll tell you all about it."

  They made their way towards the dining hall conversing amongst themselves. For the first time since coming back home Antares felt a sense of familiarity, that perhaps things had not changed. But he knew that to not be true, for things had changed more than he could have ever imagined, yet he would deal with that change when it presented itself. But as for now, he would enjoy a nice meal with his family, that little he was owed.