CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

The foyer of the House Merovech estate was not in the best of condition anymore.

Joshuan Krayson waited for word from the palace. He hoped it would come sooner rather than later, because he was positive he and his associates were quickly running through all quotas of Algara patience. That tended to happen when guests of the crown took part in slaughters within the Spired City. Slaughters, as in plural, because Krayson stood among the remnants of the second he was involved in this week, even if it was the smaller of the two.

Between the fiends who even now still rampaged in Eastrun and now the retaking of the Merovech estate from Garret's dominated thugs, Krayson's return to the City of Althandor was a messy one.

"Bloody hell," Starra lamented.

She stood with hands on hips and shook her head at a large canvas painting hanging on the foyer wall. It hung in a fairly sheltered spot tucked beneath the sweeping twin staircases leading to the upper floors. It was a fanciful piece, depicting a flight of dragons soaring through a sunset sky while a single mortal figure gazed up at them in apparent wonder. It conveyed a sense of yearning and of awe for the mighty. It was now spoiled by a spray of blood smeared across its surface.

"You have no idea how much Ambrose adored this piece." Starra crossed her arms and sighed. "This is from Master Gaius of Secundus, you know. His final painting before he died. It's worth a bloody fortune. Ambrose dropped sixty thousand marks to acquire it from House Undomiel's collection, and we ruined it. Of all the questionable things I've done in my life, Brother Joshuan, this is the worst of them."

Krayson stood alongside her and kept his mouth shut. Probably for the best, because Starra didn't appear to be in the mood to tolerate his sarcasm.

"I belong in prison," Starra said. "I do. I truly, truly do."

Krayson outstretched his hand to work through a three-point single somatic. He also muttered an Aeldic word of power. Inside a moment, every drop of blood on the painting lifted away from the canvas and dropped to the floor. The pigments underneath were left untouched and unspoiled by the experience.

Starra gasped as the blood splashed off the ground to splatter the black silk of her ankle-length skirt. She rounded on Krayson, torn between gratitude and irritation.

"Blood mage," Krayson said simply.

"I know that, you wicked imp!"

"As are you. Is it that you aren't as practiced at manipulating blood essences? Come to think of it, the only blood magic I've known you to do has been wilt curses."

"Don't try deflecting," Starra warned.

"Of course," Krayson said, dropping his eyes apologetically. "I'm sorry I bloodied your skirt. I was too hasty."

Starra frowned. "What's this? Sorries, out of you? Truthfully, I was more irritated you got it all over the carpets, but..." She gestured towards the rest of the foyer and the absolute carnage remaining within. "Drop in the ocean, at this point. All is forgiven."

Before the end of the altercation, upwards of twenty brutish armsmen dominated by Garret Merovech-Deveaux had to be put down like animals. In truth, they'd been little more than that once Garret was through with them. Practically foaming at the mouth for the chance to kill in their master's name.

Hideous, bloody work.

Krayson and Starra left Master Gaius' swan song painting and approached the center of the foyer to oversee the cleanup. It was proceeding apace with laborers hired from local guildhalls. The goodmen carried away smashed furniture and tore out soiled carpeting. The bodies had already been claimed by the undertakers, but most everything in the room had received a smattering of red before it was over. It had been a violent day before it was done.

Lady Nolaas' return to her late master's home had been for more than just a homecoming. With the invasion by its head of house imminent, the Cabal determined that House Merovech was a threat that could no longer be allowed. Starra's hopes that the threat could be pacified without bloodshed were smothered almost as soon as their feet landed on the threshold.

Brutes and thugs, often loudly proclaiming their undying devotion to Master Deveaux, made securing the estate a problem. Thankfully, none of them had been arcanists, or at least none of note. Even the steward, who possessed a dragon bond, was more inclined to flee than to fight.

Many of the dominated brutes, those who were taken down with non-fatal methods, were being seen to by Reyn, Starra, and other mage slayers in the Cabal's number. A great many others wouldn't receive that chance, as they gave Krayson and his compatriots little choice but to defend themselves.

Krayson found the morality unsettling. Self-defense was as close to ethical homicide as one could get, but the added variable of domination muddled things significantly. He'd tried to preserve the life of his attackers when he could, but in the heat of conflict, there was seldom a choice that didn't bring significant risk to the wellbeing of himself or those he cared about.

After debating the issue with himself over the past hour, Krayson concluded that he'd acted rightly. He also, unfortunately, decided there was no escaping the pit in his stomach that came as a result of it. Starra tried to cheer him in her own way, pontificating that these weren't good and decent men to begin with. If it hadn't been here, they'd have gotten themselves killed somewhere else in a turf war between ruffer gangs or a scuffle over bruise dust. Krayson wasn't sure he agreed, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

It also came as something of a marvel that he felt anything at all. Krayson still wasn't used to it. Feeling was an odd thing, when he came down to it.

While standing next to Starra in the foyer, Krayson again thanked any spirit who'd listen— any but the Great Spider— for bringing Saveen into his life. He doubted he'd have gotten anywhere near this far without her.

Unaware or just disinterested in Krayson's pondering of morality and mortal emotion, Starra clucked her tongue and tapped a slipper to the bare floorboards. "I hate this," she said. "I absolutely hate it. This was my home once, you know. I spent years in Ambrose's estate while I was his apprentice. To see it fallen so far as this..."

Krayson hummed in understanding.

"Dear Krayson," Starra sighed, placing a hand on his arm. "Forgive me. This trip isn't comfortable for either of us at all, is it? Neither of us are seeing our past homes in the way we'd like to."

Krayson gave a single nod. "I don't have much to add to that. You're right. This isn't good."

"You can say that again."

"This isn't good."

"One of these days, I'm going to settle on whether you're a jester or just a dunce, and neither of us will like my conclusion, I think."

Krayson shrugged.

"Sarcastic teenagers," Starra muttered. "To think, I used to be one."

"How long ago was that?" Krayson asked.

"Ask me again. I bloody dare you."

Reyn descended the staircase behind them, and her arrival likely saved the two blood mages from coming to blows. She wore her spectacles as she read through the ledger she carried. "I would rather you did not damage our blood runner, ma trésor."

"I wasn't going to," Starra protested. "If he's smart, I won't have to."

Reyn flashed Starra a flat look before proceeding into her reason for coming. "It will require weeks of looking through the house's affairs to get the full picture, but it appears that House Merovech allowed a staggering number of funds to make their way out of Althandor in recent months. The start of it coincides with the collapse of the magocracy."

"Bah," Krayson scoffed. "Right when Garret became head of the house."

"Specifically," Reyn clarified, "when Elise took control of Garret. Recall, Frére, Master Deveaux was not the one in control of his bond with the Watchman."

Krayson frowned. "What's that you called me?"

Starra covered her mouth and eyed Reyn with a knowing smile. Reyn blushed and avoided Krayson's gaze.

"Reyn?"

"Nothing," she mumbled. "A slip of the tongue."

What with the penchant the women in Krayson's life had for tormenting him at every opportunity, he assumed it was insulting. He didn't think he could repeat the word, or even spell it for that matter. Gaulatian words sounded downright alien when spoken with a native tongue, and they were often spelled with twice the letters they warranted.

Starra giggled at a joke only she seemed to hear as she went to Reyn and held her by the waist. "No need to be shy, dear one. If you explain it to him, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

If Krayson didn't know any better, he'd say Reyn started pouting. "That other thing Reyn said has bearing on what we found today," he said to draw them back to the topic at hand. "Any idea who that dragon was?"

Starra sighed. She'd been doing a lot of sighing since they arrived at the estate. "I was hoping you could shed light on that. Whoever they were, I think it was quite clear they were one of Elise's bound dragons."

"Not one of Her Majesty's, at least," Reyn added, then she winced. "Rather, the 'imperial princess'."

Starra hummed. "Yes, that will take some getting used to, won't it? Enfri Alinwé." Starra made an unpleasant face. "No, I don't care for that at all. It just doesn't fit her in the slightest."

"Perhaps the dragon was a minder," Krayson theorized while ignoring Starra's tangent. "The dragon was bound to Garret's steward, probably to keep him in line just like the Watchman. I suspect Elise arranged it sometime before the Battle of Moran Valley. It's a shame the dragon didn't stay long after the steward flung himself off the spire. We could've learned a lot about the new empress' plans."

Starra gave him a dubious look. "You wanted the dragon to stay and put up a fight?"

"We have Adar here," Krayson said defensively. "The Executioner and the Gladiator are just a sending away, not to mention the princesses they're attached to."

Starra shook her head, incredulous. "Daft boy, there'd be nothing of the spire left if it came down to a dragon fight. I think someone has stopped seeing dragons as the terrible engines of destruction they can become."

"I wonder why that could be," Reyn mused. Her eyes never left the ledger.

Krayson scowled at the pair of them in turn. "What are you inferring?"

"She implied," Starra said with a triumphant smirk. "You inferred."

"Is that supposed to be about Saveen?" Krayson demanded.

Starra rolled her eyes. "Don't be so defensive, or easily distracted. Stay on subject."

"I'm not going to hear that from you!"

Reyn snapped the ledger shut with a loud thunk. "Children, please. We have more to discuss than your incessant bickering." She glared over her spectacles, first at Starra and then at Krayson. Both shrank back under the force of her disapproval. Her expression softened, and she looked back to Starra. "The ledger mentions a substantial sum of coin from House Nolaas."

"The compensation for Sandharbor," Starra explained. "With their lord in chains at the time, Daddy bought Sandharbor off the Merovech steward. If we'd known those marks would be funneled right to the Jade Empire's war effort, we wouldn't have bothered keeping up appearances of doing it legally."

"I am not so sure that is what happened," Reyn said. "These brutes guarding the house spoke of Garret as Master Deveaux, not the Glorious Emperor. I believe they were... solicited... before he was captured by Shan Alee."

"What difference would that make?" Krayson asked.

"I have my doubts Garret has been in touch with his house since ascending the Jade Empire's throne." Reyn set down the ledger and removed her spectacles. "The locked translocational wards he's spent the last three months placing over the whole of his empire prevent sendings. The coin leaving the kingdom seems to have been at the dragon's behest. Not the steward's. This was orchestrated by Elise."

Krayson crossed his arms. "Isn't that the same thing? Garret and Elise are the world's least favorite duo again, after all."

"It may be a moot point now," Reyn allowed. "The coin went to fund Elise's personal war against Althandor. Now that Shan Alee is allied with the Jade Empire, it does seem to be the same thing."

Starra scoffed. "I wouldn't put it past that creature to plan on knifing her betrothed in the back and becoming some sort of double empress. Knowing her, she'll fly off the handle halfway through and bungle it."

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Krayson said in a flat tone. "The old masters unleashed Elise to destabilize the Five Kingdoms. It'd be pleasantly ironic if the tables turned and she destabilized them."

"Please don't get my hopes up," Starra said. "While I am generally an admirer of ample busts and backsides, I'd prefer not to root for Elise bloody Alinwé."

Reyn cocked an eyebrow. "You do not find the new Dragon Empress attractive?"

"Bloody hell, I surely do," Starra exclaimed. She then gave Reyn a wink. "I simply prefer kindhearted girls."

Reyn frowned as if skeptical of being counted among the kindhearted.

"At the very least, not utter bitches."

"Ah," Reyn said, apparently mollified.

Krayson couldn't make heads or tails of any of that exchange. "Reyn is both kindhearted and not a bitch. What's the issue?"

Both women were amused and bemused.

"Dunce," Starra decided. "Just a dunce."

As predicted, Krayson didn't like that conclusion at all.

The discussion continued further but brought little that was actionable, or in Starra's case, relevant. Workmen came in and out to remove broken furniture or to bring in an impressive amount of the scrubbing soap of the sort intended for blood stains. It wasn't until Pacifica returned that Krayson felt like he should start paying attention again.

"Ma belle," Reyn said to greet Pacifica as she came in through the estate's main entrance. Her smile was radiant enough that it became easy to ignore their surroundings. "Any luck in your pursuit?"

"No, but I'm almost happy about that," Pacifica replied. She walked up to Reyn and was received by a warm embrace. "No idea who that dragon was, but waves take me, they could give the Rampart a run for his money where speed is concerned. Adar couldn't keep up that pace forever, and we were halfway to the Miracle before we gave up on it."

Reyn's brow furrowed. "So far?" Her eyes widened. "In just six hours? There and back again?"

Pacifica winked and affected a playfully haughty tone. "Don't underestimate my Ascendent, sila moya. Aside from Almo— and this unknown hellebore who's apparently made of lightning— no dragon is faster."

Reyn snorted, impressed. "As you say. Where is the Lord Ascendent now?"

"Adar's having a word with the city guardsmen outside. He'll be just a moment longer."

Starra had given the two as much time alone as she appeared to be willing to and approached. "What of your passengers?" she asked.

Pacifica glanced back the way she came. "Oh... Well..."

"Is something wrong?" Krayson asked with sudden concern.

"Rex seems fine," Pacifica said, "but Irsa..."

Krayson went closer to her. "What is it?"

Pacifica bit her lower lip. "It's sometimes easy to forget that the kind of life we've been leading isn't normal, nor should it be."

Krayson felt he understood the problem. He raised a palm to forestall further explanation. "I'll go see them."

"Mmm, do that," Starra agreed. "The fiend hunters seem to be quite taken with you."

"Especially Irsa," Pacifica added. "She might respond better to you, Krayson."

"It must be terrible," Starra said with a rueful shake of her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they were locked on Krayson. "This dear boy is ambivalent towards such relationships, yet he attracts such glorious specimens of our gender wherever he walks."

Krayson blushed and felt it best if he gave no answer to that beyond a scowl. He wasn't fond of when the women in his life started talking as if he wasn't there, while knowing full well that he was.

"Off with you," Starra said. "Shoo. But, don't be too long. Lady Claryss will be showing her pinched face in a couple hours, and I told her to bring Lidya with her. I want you there when we hear what she has to tell us."

"Just Claryss, or the whole Cabal?" Krayson asked while backing towards the entrance.

"Not the whole Cabal," Starra said. "This was just one spinning plate of the dozens we're managing. Claryss and Lady Thal, thank the gods, and I'm sure one or two others."

"I will be back," Krayson promised. "I'm as curious about what Lydia has learned as anyone."

Starra flicked her wrist at him, a clear dismissal.

Krayson tried not to let it bother him. It actually made him feel oddly better to be butting heads with Starra again. Days without her around tended to be peaceful but also... well... boring.

If Starra had taught Krayson anything, it was that life didn't have to be both.

At the top of a spire, what constituted as estate grounds was a little different than in other kingdoms. Had the estate been out in the country, the tended lawn would seem abnormally small compared to others. It became more understandable upon remembering that there was a drop of a league on the other side of the surrounding walls. Instead of a gate leading out to a road, there was a sizable structure housing a steam lift large enough to haul carriages all the way up from the ground level. Little sculptures of gods and heroes lined the pathways, and flower beds added splashes of bright color to combat the overcast atmosphere that couldn't be escaped even at this altitude.

Krayson scanned the grounds. He saw a few horse-drawn carts loaded with scrap and detritus from the cleanup. A number of workers strolled around the lawn while on break. He even saw Adar talking with a squad of armored men from the constabulary of Northrun as Pacifica mentioned. No sign, however, of fiend hunters.

It took a few questions posed to the workforce for Krayson to uncover the general direction they went. He took a pathway snaking around the manor until it led towards a hedge garden surrounding an Altieri-style black marble fountain. Once again, the Merovech's interests were hidden in plain sight, as the sculpture depicted five dragons in flight amidst seaspray breaking over a stony shoreline.

As Krayson approached, Rex turned the corner out of the hedge garden. His scarred brow was creased further with worry, and he'd slung his enormous crossbow over a shoulder. Rex ran his hand through his hair before looking up to see Krayson's arrival.

"Have a chat with her, would you?" Rex asked. "Might take it to heart more, hearing it from someone closer in age."

Rex gave Krayson's shoulder a heavy pat as he passed him by. No further explanations given, but Krayson didn't need them. He continued on into the garden and quickly located Irsa.

She sat on the lip of the fountain's basin. Her back was to him. She'd taken off her armor and piled the dinged and battered pieces of her kit beside her. A ripped pair of leggings and a thin shirt were all she had left to wear. One by one, she plunged elements of her armor into the water and gave them an all but frantic scrubbing to clean them of blood. Krayson noted her gambeson, soaked through with crimson. That wasn't making it into the fountain and instead got tossed onto a pile of leaves beside a burner.

Krayson opened his mouth to ask after her but closed it again when he saw her shoulders quaking. Irsa wept as she cleaned her armor. Trying to hold it in turned it towards gasping sobs that refused to be contained.

This was a private moment, and Krayson knew he was the least capable of providing any kind of comfort. He turned to leave and give Irsa her space before she could realize she'd been discovered.

I don't tell you what to do, Kumo said once Krayson made his choice to go. I don't command, but I do advise in my own way. You are the one through whom my designs are made manifest. A saint doesn't need to be told what to become. They just are. That is the nature of the relationship between god and saint.

Krayson's footsteps fell still, and for once when communing with the Great Spider, he held his tongue.

I will make an exception one more time. My counterpart is more often than not blind to the workings of mortal hearts. She cannot help her saint, and that failure pains her. I beg you for my counterpart's sake, don't leave yet.

Krayson stood in place, thinking he didn't owe Kumo anything. But, it wasn't about what he owed his patron. It wasn't even about what he owed someone he'd only just met. It was a kindness Krayson received when he needed it most, and it hadn't been for a reason like debt or responsibility.

He went to Irsa and sat down on the basin's rim beside her. Nothing said, but he picked up one of her pauldrons and used somatics to pull the blood away as he'd done with the painting before.

Irsa sniffled and put a lid on her emotional state. "You don't gotta."

"I know," Krayson replied.

"Really, I got it."

Krayson shrugged.

"Why you here, anyway?"

"No reason."

"Then..."

"That's the best reason there is," Krayson said. "No reason at all. People should just help for no reason."

Krayson went through the pieces of her kit, cleaning each of them with a gesture. Irsa's hands went still. She took her chain hauberk out of the water and wordlessly handed it over. Krayson cleaned that one next.

"These were people," she said after a long silence. "Not fiends. People."

Krayson made a soft sound of agreement.

"Never killed a person before. They didn't know what they were doing, did they?"

"Most if not all had been dominated," Krayson confirmed. "They weren't attacking us by their own choice."

Irsa swallowed. "I murdered them, then."

"I saw you in the fight. You weren't aiming to kill, but that's sometimes the only way you can stop a big man with a knife aimed at your friends. You and your sword might've been what killed some of these people, but you're not the murderer. That would be the man who took away their choice to not get killed."

Irsa resisted that line of philosophical logic. "At the end of the day, I'll still remember the look in their eyes when they realized they were dying. They looked so confused."

"It's wrong," Krayson said. "No one should have to make that call, but for what it's worth, I think you made the right one."

Irsa nodded. "Wasn't about to let that ruffer stab you in the back."

"What?" Krayson frowned. "I don't remember you stopping anyone about to stab me."

Irsa snorted and laughed. "You had your eyes on the vampire lady. Looked like you were too busy getting a peek up her skirt to see the lout sneaking up behind you."

Krayson scoffed. Though, he was a bit disturbed that he'd come close to getting backstabbed without ever realizing.

"Don't mean to imply anything. Just... I figured since you're with all these high-class ladies, one of them must've caught your fancy."

"These particular high-class ladies are more likely to fancy each other."

"Aye, picked up on that. Seems those three are in something of a mess. The redheads are both pining after the vampire, yeah?"

"No. The vampire and the short redhead are both courting the tall one."

"At the same time?"

Krayson nodded.

"Waves."

"It works for them."

"And you?" Irsa asked. "Someone special back in Teularon or wherever it is you came from?"

"No," Krayson said immediately. Then he reconsidered. "Yes."

"Complicated?"

"Very." He set down the last of Irsa's cleaned kit and looked at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," she said. "Everything's gone complicated since I left home. Got a goddess in my head, casting spells without knowing, demons turning people into fiends, and I'm standing in a city about to get attacked by dragons, an airship armada, and my own kingdom. Now this happened on top of it all." She gestured towards the manor. "I guess... maybe I'm just on the lookout for something simple."

Irsa gazed into Krayson's eyes, and she leaned subtly closer.

"I'm..." Krayson swallowed. "I'm not good at... um... relationships."

"Don't want one," Irsa whispered. Her cheeks turned red, and her gaze kept flickering between Krayson's mouth and his eyes. "Can't promise I'll be good at it, but I want to know what it's like before the world ends."

Krayson's mind went blank. What what is like? He was still trying to come up with an answer to that riddle when Irsa cupped his cheek with a hand. She brought her face closer to his, and Krayson didn't resist as Irsa kissed him.

It felt... nice.

If this was physical intimacy, Krayson didn't find it as nerve-wracking as he assumed it'd be. It helped that he liked Irsa. He felt they had a great deal in common and had already enjoyed something of a rapport. He'd known of people getting intimate for far fewer and far worse reasons.

Irsa pulled back, and the red in her cheeks had deepened. She avoided looking at him. "If you don't want to, it's fine. You said there's someone else, yeah?"

"She... She's on the other side of this war."

Irsa blinked and looked up.

"Maybe I already ruined it by leaving her behind. Even if everything turns out fine tomorrow, I don't know if she and I could ever... this."

"Complicated," Irsa said. This time it wasn't a question but an affirmation.

"Very," Krayson agreed.

"Would you... want to try something more simple with me right now?"

Examining his emotions honestly, Krayson realized he was afraid. Not of Irsa, but of never seeing Saveen again. No anxiety or worry, just a dread that he'd been feeling for days now. A bone-deep fear that he was destined to be alone. He would do anything to make that fear go away.

Krayson met her gaze and gave a single nod. "I would."

Irsa removed her shirt and kissed him again.