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For those who had the honour of calling Destiny Gate their home, little occurred that was not carefully timed and precisely executed. Those living outside the walls of the great cathedral could easily set their timepieces to the movement of those within. The timing of everything, from the designated hours for prayer, to the preparation of food, to cleaning and maintenance, was precise and strictly enforced. All was laid out in accordance with the strict schedule that the Lord herself had maintained during her life, carried on even after her passing.

Cardinal Aarin Dellward was very fastidious regarding her schedule, even in comparison to the harsh standards of the rest of Destiny Gate. Her day began, as it always did, just before the break of dawn with a journey from her quarters down to the grand hall, to her special prayer space before the Lord's Throne. She prayed silently and bowed to the Lord's holy body until the sun emerged from the horizon and climbed to a point where it shone brilliantly through the stained glass roof of one of the great towers.

With her morning prayers finished, she returned to her quarters to attend to her grooming, bathed in cold rosewater and ensured that her robes and uniform were spotless.

As she pulled on her robes, Dellward paused as she noted a few stray hairs upon the sleeve. It was fur, feline judging by the tawny colour, and far too long to belong to a hunting cat or mouser. Dellward frowned, plucking the hairs off her robe and tossing them from the window.

After bathing, she set about tidying her bed. Though there were servants who would happily do such work for her, she found a certain satisfaction in tidying her own bed, as she had done as a mere initiate. She paused as she smoothed down the top comforter, finding yet more feline hairs upon the soft cotton. Dellward's nose twitched in annoyance as she carefully removed each hair.

"Morning, ma'am," One of the servants said, bowing as Dellward stepped from her room and entered a small round kitchen. Two bowls of steaming spiced porridge sat upon the wooden table in the centre of the room.

"Morning. Where is Almecia?" Dellward asked, taking a seat at the table.

The servant paused. "Oh... I think she is still asleep, ma'am. Miss Moore went to go and get her several minutes ago."

Dellward sighed, pinching her nose. "That girl..." As she glanced down at her breakfast, her nose twitched in irritation again as she noted a stray pelt hair sitting perfectly atop her porridge. Removing it with a sigh, Dellward glanced up at the servant. "Speaking of, as if I don't know, why is there pelt fur all over my living quarters."

Again, the servant nervously paused. "Well... uh... Forgive me, I'll make certain to clean it out as soon as I can."

"Good, see to it."

As the servant bowed, a second door leading into the kitchen opened, and a stern-looking woman emerged, followed by a young girl of between thirteen and fourteen years.

The woman's hair was done up in a tight bun, while the young girl's long brown hair was twisted into a pair of braids. The young girl was short for her age, with a soft face and large almond-shaped eyes like her mother. On the other hand, her governess was a tall woman with thick limbs and sharp eyes that surveyed all around her with disdainful arrogance.

"Please forgive the infestation of pelt fur, your holiness. Young Miss Almecia demanded that we visit Lucerian Park yesterday," Miss Moore spoke with a sharp voice tinged with condescension. "While she was there, she insisted on playing with a filthy feline brat."

"Oh, she did, did she?" Dellward replied, raising an eyebrow.

"She was nice," Almecia grumbled in reply, dropping into the chair across from her mother with a huff.

"She was a filthy little creature, kicking around a ball with that other little girl..." Miss Moore's face twisted into a disgusted scowl. "I was sorely tempted to file an avowal against them for such behaviour."

"You were playing... with a pelt?" Dellward looked up at Miss Moore. "And you allowed this?"

Miss Moore raised her chin. "I would have forbidden it, of course, but Miss Almeica managed to... elude me whilst we were on our walk."

Almecia couldn't help but smile to herself at the frustration in Miss Moore's voice, but the smile vanished with a disapproving glance from her mother.

Dellward sighed as she looked across the table at her sullen daughter. "We've talked about this."

"I was just kicking a ball around," Almecia grumbled, ignoring the other servant as a bowl of porridge was placed before her. "Her family was having a picnic. They were nice."

"Her family? You mean her owners." Dellward shook her head. "What was a slave even doing at the park?"

"They were letting her play." Almecia raised her eyes. "You always tell me that people can treat their slaves the way they want."

"Maybe so, but you can't forget your place. You are the-"

"-the daughter of the High Cardinal," Almecia said, poking at her porridge. "I know, I know."

"You should have more respect when you are speaking with your mother." Miss Moore barked. "And sit up straight! By the lord, were you my daughter, I'd tan your hide for speaking to me like-"

"Thank you, Miss Moore," Dellward snapped, glancing up at the governess, the ice in Dellward's tone immediately silencing her. After a few moments of cold silence, Dellward looked back at her daughter. "What will you be studying today?"

"History and arithmetic."

"Are you finding numbers easier now?"

Almecia sunk in her chair a little. "No."

Dellward smiled warmly at Almecia. "Just keep working at it. I was utterly rubbish at numbers when I was your age."

"R-really?"

"Mhmmm."

"Can you read to me today?" Almecia asked, looking expectantly up at her mother.

"I... I have a great deal to do today; a Bishop is visiting from Redhaven, I have three different meetings to attend, and-"

Almecia's shoulders slumped a little as she looked back down at her porridge. "Never mind."

With a heavy sight, Dellward reached across the table, putting her hand on top of Almecia's. "Sometime around noon, I will find time to be with you."

"You promise?"

"Promise." Dellward smiled and squeezed her daughter's hand gently.

There was a loud knock as Dellward and her daughter returned to their breakfast. The kitchen servant hastily bustled over and cracked open the door. After a brief flurry of quiet words, the servant turned.

"You holiness, there is a message for you."

Dellward paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not to be disturbed in my quarters. Can it not wait?"

"Apparently not, my lord."

With an irritated grumble, Dellward got to her feet and strode over to the door, dismissing the servant with a wave. A man in a red and blue uniform placed his hand over his heart and bowed as Dellward glanced at him. From his breast pocket, he withdrew a small piece of folded paper.

"Your holiness, my sincere apologies for disturbing you, but I have a message from Marshall Taunton himself."

With a curt nod, Dellward took the paper and cracked open the wax seal. Her eyebrows twitched slightly as she looked at the words before placing the paper in a pocket of her robes. "Inform the Marshal that I have received the message and will join him shortly."

"At your command."

As Dellward stepped back into her quarters, she noticed her daughter looking at her.

"You aren't going to be able to read to me today... are you." Almecia sighed, her shoulders slumping

With a heavy sigh of her own, Dellward walked back over to her daughter, pausing only for a moment to toss the piece of paper into the nearby stove. "I'm sorry, sweetheart... but probably not."

"I knew it."

"Sweetie... this is important, I promise-"

"You always promise." Almecia got up from the table and turned back towards her room.

"Almecia..."

"Get back here, young lady!" Miss Moore demanded. "Show your mother more respect!" But Almecia ignored her, slamming the door behind her as she reached her room.

Miss Moore shook her head and turned to Dellward. "I am sorry, your holiness... She's still a willful child despite my best efforts."

Dellward nodded. "I have faith in your abilities to blunt some of her... sharper edges. You have not been with us for a full season yet. I know such things take time."

"Thank you, Your Holiness. I will redouble my efforts."

Dellward got to her feet. "Good. However, I wonder if there is one thing that perhaps was not... fully explained to you."

"Yes. your holiness?" Again, Miss Moore felt a rush of cold run up her back.

"You mentioned 'tanning' my daughter's hide? Is this... a technique you have used before?"

Miss Moore paused before speaking. "It is sometimes... necessary, when correcting a child, to apply a measure of... discomfort. The Lord herself said-"

"I know what the Lord said," Dellward spoke in a calm, clear voice. "Just who do you think you are talking to?"

"My apologies, your holiness-"

"Your position is understood and appreciated, and I trust you will help my daughter become a true lady... But if you raise a hand against her in anger, if you strike her in any way, I'll have you murdered. And I assure you, I will make certain it will be in a most unpleasant fashion."

Despite her best efforts, Miss Moore gulped, her throat suddenly very dry. "O-of course, your holiness."

Dellward strode out of her quarters without another word, her long red robes billowing behind her.

***

In the morning light, the back garden of the Johnsburg Plantation was a beautiful sight. Delicate droplets of morning dew made the emerald-green grass sparkle in the golden light. The well-manicured trees were filled with singing songbirds, with delicate butterflies fluttering about the multicoloured flower beds. Surrounding it all was a hedge of pure white rose bushes.

It had taken nearly three days for the storm that had ravaged the new Burleigh countryside to pass. But now that it had, the sun seemed to shine all the brighter, and the sky was a stunning azure blue. The air felt fresh, washed clean by the rain. Any damage to the trees and the lawn had already been cleared away, leaving only a scene fit for a painting.

An elegantly carved gazebo sat in the centre of the lawn, with a small pond to one side filled with lily flowers. Luke, Eddie, and Eddie's wife, Charlotte, all sat upon painted white lawn furniture around an elegant wrought iron table. Two young girls in light blue dresses ran about on the grass, playing with Azee, whom they had draped in multicoloured ribbons.

Luke watched as the girls ran around and around Azee, teasing her with long ribbons attached to sticks. Azee still seemed to be in a daze, an oddly serene smile on her face. Her movements were slower than usual as she reached out to try and catch the giggling children running around her. She laughed, confused by the game but entertained nonetheless.

Despite the smile on Azee's face, Luke could not help but feel a growing sense of unease within him, as if what he was looking at wasn't quite right.

"That'll be all, Gini," Eddie said, waving the large canine woman away as she set a silver breakfast tray on the table.

"As you wish, master." She bowed her head and retreated quickly.

"Are you sure she's safe?" Charlotte asked, watching nervously as Azee barely missed catching hold of the younger of the two girls. "There was such a fuss that first night..."

"She's fine," Eddie waved a hand as he selected a piece of toast. "That collar could calm an ursine, let alone a little thing like her."

Charlotte still seemed nervous as she glanced back at Azee and the girls. "If you say so."

"So?" Eddie glanced at Luke. "What do you think? Doesn't she seem happier?"

After a moment's pause, Luke nodded. "Yes... she does seem to be happier." He smiled as Azee managed to catch one of the girls and began tickling her. "Much happier."

"I told you, didn't I, that I was doing you a favour."

"Oh Clara, be careful..." Charlotte called out as one of her daughters clambered onto Azee's back.

"Can we keep her, Daddy?" The girl called out as she scratched Azee between the ears.

"I'm afraid not; she belongs to Mister Windhill," Eddie called back. He chuckled as his girls responded with a chorus of disappointed groans. "But you can play with her so long as it is alright with Mister Windhill."

"It's alright," Luke nodded with another smile. "She likes to be scratched on the head and the stomach."

As the girls returned to playing with Azee, Eddie glanced at Luke. "So, how long were you thinking of staying?"

"I'd like to get back on the road by noon," Luke said, shaking his head as Eddie offered him a piece of buttered toast. "We have a long way to go."

"Where exactly are you headed, Mister Windhill?" Charlotte asked.

Luke cleared his throat as Eddie glanced at him expectantly. "Back to New Burleigh. Hopefully, we'll be able to catch a train to Flinton Valley from there."

"So you're headed home then?" Eddie asked.

"Yes... my business in these parts is concluded." Luke looked back at Azee as she flopped onto the grass, allowing the girls to scratch her stomach. Her tail wagged happily as she let out a giggle.

"Oh, we really should visit Flinton Valley sometime; I hear it is beautiful in the springtime."

Luke nodded, "You and Eddie are always welcome at my home, madam. Seems the least I can do to thank you for your hospitality the last few days."

"Oh, it truly has been our pleasure. You really must come out this way again in the autumn for the harvest festival."

Luke leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee with a contented sigh. "I may just take you up on that."

"Forgive my curiosity, but I have to ask, what will you do about your troublemaker?" Eddie asked, glancing at Luke.

Luke's smile faded a little. "I... haven't decided on that yet."

"Haven't decided?" Eddie frowned. "Come on, Luke, you're not actually going to try and get her back, are you?"

"Like I said, I haven't decided." Luke glanced at Eddie. "It's not like I can't use a collar to make her behave."

"Seems like a waste to me."

"Perhaps."

"Well, it ain't none of my business how you wanna run your affairs."

Luke felt a strange lump growing in the pit of his stomach as he nodded and glanced back at Azee.

"It'll be good to be home again," he said aloud, though in truth, he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

***

"We've decided to fight."

Wale stared in surprise at both Vali and Fray as they stood on the bank of the river that ran around the edge of the Windhill property. It was only on a whim that he returned to the Windhill Plantation one final time before moving on as Kash had commanded. Now, he stood waist-deep in the river, Vali and Fray staring at him with grim determination.

"What changed your mind?" Wale raised an eyebrow, his eyes drawn to the bandages wrapped around Fray's midsection and the stick she used to prop herself up. "Finally had one beating too many?"

"Something like that," Fray replied.

"And what happened to Syn?"

"Syn is gone." Fray's eyes hardened. "You'll deal with us now."

Wale tensed a little, glancing at the reeds surrounding the river. "And why, exactly, is she gone? Was she sold? Or perhaps... sold out?"

"That doesn't matter." Vali took a step forward as Wale took a cautious step back, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. "What matters is that we are willing to help your rebellion."

"The last time I tried talking with this one-" Wale jerked his head at Fray, "-She tried to drown me. And now you are telling me that the woman I was dealing with is gone?" He took another step back, lowering himself into the water and preparing to make a rapid exit. "What exactly happened to her?"

Vali started to answer, but Fray cut her off. "I killed her."

Wale's eyes widened. "You... what?"

Vali looked sharply over at Fray, but Fray paid no attention. Her gaze was stern as she stared directly into Wale's eyes. "Syn couldn't live as a slave any longer; she was desperate, and she was going to hurt someone or herself if she wasn't stopped. Rather than see her executed, along with others, I set her free the only way I knew how."

"You-"

"I did what was needed to protect the people I care about here," Fray said sharply. "I gave her a painless death. Her blood is on my hands and my hands alone. If that makes you unwilling to work with me, I understand and will leave this to Vali. But the fact of the matter is, things here cannot continue as they are now."

"So what exactly is different now?" Wale's eyes narrowed. "Again, I recall you being rather violently opposed to any sort of resistance."

"With Master Windhill gone, the Overseers are falling back on old habits, and if we don't find a way to free ourselves soon, someone will do something stupid and reckless on their own."

" Oh, I see. So your 'kindly' master is gone, and you're getting a taste of what the rest of us deal with, and you don't like it?" Wale crossed his arms. "I'm not exactly filled with sympathy."

Fray's gaze darted over Wale's form, lingering on the sight of his ribs, visible through his fur. "Perhaps not, but I'm willing to bet that you need fighters and supplies. We can help you with both things in exchange for weapons."

"What... kind of supplies?" Wale asked.

"Food. The overseers don't watch the kitchen nearly as well as they should, and with harvest time coming, we can sneak food from the orchards and the fields."

"That's fine; we can always use food." Wale nodded, trying to keep his eagerness from registering in his voice. He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "But I still don't buy this whole change of heart of yours."

"It's true," Vali protested."We're willing to fight, to join you!"

"But why?" Wale glanced at Vali before returning his gaze to Fray. "Why now?"

For a long moment, Fray was quiet. The stick she gripped cracked and crackled under her fingers as her grip tightened. "You want the truth? Because they hurt a friend of mine."

Fray groaned a little as she pushed herself up to her full height. "I know what you think of me... I used to be a fore; I am a part of the problem. You may even consider me your enemy. But I told myself that what I was doing was to keep order and peace."

"Order and peace for who? For your 'master'?"

"For everyone." Fray's ears pressed against her head. "Go ahead, call me a collaborator. But I wanted the people under my care to live as peacefully as they could, free of fear of being culled. I quit when I realised I couldn't protect them... not how I wanted to."

"Wha- You quit being a fore? How? How are you still alive?" Wale shook his head a little. "N-never mind. What I want to know is-"

"I wanted to protect my people." Fray interrupted. She looked down at the water, watching as the ripples distorted her reflection. "I quit when I realised I couldn't do that. My authority wasn't protecting anyone. Now... with the way things are here, staying quiet, keeping our heads down, it isn't enough to protect us anymore."

Wale fell silent, the mix of anger and regret in Fray's voice ringing deep within him.

"They tried to kill a friend of mine for no reason. Maybe it was foolish... to think that if we just... cooperated and stayed quiet, we'd at least be safe from the worst the humans can do to us." Slowly, Fray raised her head, a terrible rage burning in her eyes. Instinctively, Wale took a step back and reached for his knife. His blade was halfway out of its sheath when his breath caught in his throat. He recognised the look on Fray's face; he'd seen that look before in Raid's eyes.

"They tried to kill Keeli on a lie, on a damned lie. Not for any greater purpose, not to protect anyone, but because they wanted to prove a point," The stick splintered and cracked as Fray bared her teeth, her fur rippling. "Well... lesson learned."

"Okay."

Fray and Vali both blinked in surprise as Wale dropped his hand from the hilt of his knife. "I think we can work with you."

"Good." Fray sighed in relief. "That's very good. We'll start gathering as much food as we can. When can you start smuggling us weapons?"

Wale paused momentarily, resisting the urge to curse under his breath. There were, of course, no weapons to give.

"I will speak with our leader. But soon, soon for certain."

"Good. When can we talk next?"

"Give me some time. I'll leave the red cloth in the tree when I return."

Fray nodded. "Fine. In the meantime, we'll set things up here."

As Wale vanished back into the water, Vali turned and looked at Fray. "Are we... certain about this? There is no going back."

"I know..." Fray took a deep breath, turning back towards the fields. "But we don't have any choice left. There are very few rules that we truly live by... but Snyder has broken them."

Vali nodded. "True... And if we get rid of him..."

"Then we are truly locked in. And with Windhill gone... this may be the only chance we get."

***

As Luke had intended, by the time the clock struck high noon, the Johnsburg plantation had already passed out of sight. Luke sat upon the driver's box, tipping his hat at the odd passersby, while Azee sat quietly in the back of the cart, watching with detached interest as the scenery rolled by.

As the day went on, the puddles on the road became fewer and farther between. The sun grew warmer with each passing mile, and the land that had seemed so cold and miserable in the rain of a few days past was teeming with life and beauty.

Everything was simply... perfect.

"So why do I feel so... so wrong," Luke muttered, running a hand through his hair. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Azee had heard him speak, but she gave no sign that she had.

'I just need to get the last bits of Eloise's spell released... Hopefully, Elmer will have made some progress.'

Luke did not doubt that the Runesmith would have some kind of answer for him. Even if he didn't, now that Luke had Azee back under his control, getting her to cooperate would be simple, which would undoubtedly help Elmer's research along.

'This is right! Everything is back the way it should be.' Luke sighed in frustration, pausing for a moment to nod at another driver passing by on the other side of the road. 'Azee is safe, and I'm the master again!'

And yet the unpleasant lump in Luke's chest would not go away.

Arthur looked over his shoulder as he heard Luke sigh again. The old hound examined Luke with his large, sad eyes, his head slightly cocked as if he could sense the conflict within the human.

"What?" Luke asked, glaring back at the hound. "Are you going to judge me too? I've had quite enough of that from Eloise already, thank you."

Arthur made no reply, instead turning back to the road ahead with a low grumble.

"It'll all be fine," Luke muttered to himself again, looking up at the blue sky over his head. "This will all work out for the best..."

***

If there was one place in all of Halcyon that no one wanted to end up, it was Applegate. The building, constructed in the old quarter of Legacy, had once been Halcyon's central bank. The vast, fortress-like building, built from solid rock and stone, now served as the headquarters of the Silver Scales, the enforcement division of the Lord's Holy Order.

There were four primary divisions within the Order. First, there was the Illuminant Chain, which was responsible for maintaining control of the slave population and ensuring Halcyon's stability. Though they were the most heavily armed division in the Order, equipped with powerful weapons and runes, Halcyon law forbade more than seven thousand three hundred of their agents to exist at any time.

Second came the Order of the Crimson Gift, the division dedicated to maintaining the welfare of Halcyon's free and enslaved peoples. The Crimson Gift fought plagues, assisted in the cleanup from natural disasters, and saw to the transport, breeding, and selling of slaves.

The Lord's Hand was the legal arm of the Order. It was deeply connected to the civilian government, interpreting the Lord's words and ensuring that the nation remained consistent with the Lord's vision for the chosen people. Though the least aggressive of the Order divisions, many an upstart reformist or radical within Halcyon had run afoul of the Lord's Hand and lived to regret their transgression.

Finally, there was the Order of the Silver Scales, which enforced the law and saw to the security of Halcyon's people from threats both within and without. Silver Scales tendrils reached deep into almost every aspect of life within Halcyon. Though they were often disregarded by the other divisions as weak, lacking any sort of heavy firepower and preferring to operate in the shadows, only a fool would underestimate the Silver Scales, especially on their home turf.

And Dellward was no fool. She knew full well that dealing with the Silver Scales was a delicate balancing act.

As the land engine drew to a halt in front of Applegate, Dellward stood from her seat. Not waiting for one of the guards to open the door for her, Dellward vaulted over the edge of the land engine's generous passenger section, landing gracefully on the cobblestones.

A group of five Silver Scales agents, known to their Order as Heralds, approached. Marshal Taunton was at the centre of the small group, with a grave look upon his face. All bowed as Dellward approached.

"Greetings, Your Holiness," the lead Herald said, placing a hand over his heart. "You honour us with your presence."

"Indeed." Dellward glanced at Taunton. "Where is he?"

"The prisoner has been secured in the Steelfold Vault, in the lower levels," one of the Heralds said before Taunton could answer.

Dellward turned her gaze from Taunton to the herald. "Fine. I want to see him now."

"As you wish, your holiness, though we have yet to debrief him fully."

"Has he been... damaged?"

The Herald's eye twitched a little. "Not as of yet. We haven't reached that stage of our inquiries yet."

"Good." Dellward nodded, sweeping past the Herald and climbing the steps towards the main entrance.

With a flurry of murmurs, the Heralds turned and followed after Dellward, having to jog to keep up with her pace. Taunton couldn't help but smile at the irritation the Heralds clearly felt at Dellward's display of casual authority.

"The Silver Scales do enjoy their illusion of autonomy," Taunton mused to himself.

"Did he manage to send any messages?" Dellward asked as she strode through the main doors of Applegate, nodding ever so slightly in response to the salutes of a pair of heavily armed and armoured Heralds on either side of the door.

"Three, via various channels. All were intercepted and silenced."

"What of the Prime Minister, has he been informed?"

"Not yet, your Holiness."

"Good, keep it that way for now."

The front Lobby of Applegate maintained a great deal of its original grandeur and pomp. A vast front desk, carved from marble and shaped like a crescent moon, sat just beyond the large silver doors. Great pillars of marble reached from the floor to the high vaulted ceiling above, from which hung a titanic chandelier of silver and crystal. Beyond the front desk were rows upon rows of enormous metal shelves, all connected by a dense network of wrought iron catwalks, and all groaning under the weight of tonnes upon tonnes of documents. Despite the size of the shelves laid out before her, and the vast array of paper files, Dellward knew full well that this was a mere fraction of the Silver Scales repository, little more than a sampling of the information hoarded by the secretive Division of the Order.

The whole vast room was a hive of activity. Agents from every division of the Lord's Holy Order were present as an army of Heralds moved about, most carrying some file or another. There was a constant sense of necessity, a frantic urgency that filled the air. It was like walking within a factory, surrounded by whirring and clattering machinery. Dellward ignored the chaos around her and continued on her course towards the back of the main lobby.

"What of his staff? His assistants?"

The lead Herald drew up beside Dellward, trying hard not to show the exertion it was taking to keep up with her. "They are contained at Black Garden. Holding them here seemed... excessive."

"Was there a pelt amongst his staff? A canine pelt, wolven type, light brown coat with black streaks, and green eyes."

The herald paused. "Indeed there was. He's being held with the other slaves. His culling should take place soo-"

"There will be no culling." Dellward interrupted, glancing over sharply. "I care nought for the others, but that particular pelt is not to be touched."

"This Pelt... it is important?"

Dellward glanced briefly at the Herald. "Important enough that I wish to debrief him myself."

The Herald's face darkened, his voice sullen and sour. "You had an agent in play... and didn't share this information with the Silver Scales? That is... highly unusual."

Immediately, Dellward stopped and rounded on the Herald. She didn't say a word; she simply stared, her eyes burrowing into the man. Though she and the herald were relatively the same height, Dellward seemed to tower over him. Instinctively, the Herald shrunk back, his impudence quickly abandoned.

As Dellward turned and continued her march towards the back of Applegate, Taunton stepped forward and put a hand on the shaken Herald's shoulder.

"It is the High Cardinal's prerogative to keep some things to herself," Marshal Taunton commented. "If I were you, I'd not question her about it."

***

When the Silver Scales had appropriated the Applegate Bank, what had once been its great vaults, holding all the riches of Legacy's elite, had been converted into the most secretive and secure prison cells in all of Halcyon. Given the nickname 'Steelfold Vault', the prison had a fearsome reputation and was considered impossible to escape. In addition to the most trusted and highly trained Silver Scales guards, the vault was protected by many defensive runes and traps. Few prisoners held in Applegate were ever seen again, with fewer still returning from the Steelform Vault.

As Dellward descended a long set of spiralling metal stairs, she glanced around at the solid steel cell doors. Each door was secured by heavy metal bolts, with suppression runes to prevent any noise from going in or out of the cells. Dellward suppressed a shudder as she thought about what would happen if even half of the heretics, traitors, false prophets and worse held within Applegate were to be released. Of course, it would be simple to have them all killed, but one never knew when such creatures might prove useful.

Before long, she, Marshal Taunton, and the Herald arrived at the bottom of the stairs and stood before a solid steel wall. It would have seemed to be nothing more than a wall, were it not for the pair of Seraphim guarding it.

"Open it," Dellward commanded.

The Seraphim bowed before turning to the wall. Both raised their hands and placed them at seemingly random places on the metal. Pale green runes flared to life beneath the Seraphim's hands. Lines of bright orange energy shot out from them and carved the glowing outline of a door into the solid steel.

A scowl crossed Dellward's face as the Seraphim pushed the door open and she stepped into the cell beyond.

"You know, I'm almost disappointed in you."

Sitting against the far wall of the cell, his hands bound in front of him, sat Girrard Clay, the Graize ambassador. His usually immaculate clothes were ruffled and torn, and there was a large bruise on the left side of his face.

Dellward stepped forward, staring down at Clay. "Your escape plan was as inept as it was obvious."

"Escape plan?" Clay raised his head and looked up at Dellward. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Aarin."

"Am I?"

"I was going on vacation."

Dellward stepped closer. "Leaving in the middle of the night? Travelling with a considerable amount of currency? Setting your slaves loose? I'm told you even provided rather nicely for your housekeeper before you left."

"What can I say? It was to be a long vacation."

"If all of your lies are going to be this transparent, it won't be much of an interrogation."

"Well, I could try and make my lies more opaque if that's what you want, Aarin."

Suppressing a sigh of irritation at the continuous use of her first name, Dellward folded her hands behind her back and raised her chin. "I take it, by your attempted... departure, that Graize is planning to attack us sooner rather than later."

"Well, if they weren't going to attack you before, what do you think Graize will do once they find out what you've done to one of their ambassadors?"

"What we've done?" Dellward raised an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean? Your messages were intercepted, your servants will be culled before the end of the day, and no one aside from me and a few others even know you are here."

Clay's eye twitched, his confident facade slipping ever so slightly. "Well, It would seem-"

"Then, of course, there is the man at the cafe on Cheal Street." Dellward couldn't help but smile a little at the surprised expression on Clay's face. "Every third day, just after noon, you take a walk down Cheal Street to that quaint little bakery with the buns you like. But, every second time you make your little journey, you wear a red tie and silver cufflinks." Dellward shrugged. "Well, silver when you have nothing to report, gold when you wish to send a message in secret. All this, observed by a man who sits at the cafe and watches for you before sending a message to his 'aunt' up in Graize."

Dellward glanced down at Clay. "If your walks were to stop suddenly, I am sure that man would report on your absence to Graize. Or at least he would, had we not discovered his... weaknesses and turned him into our loyal puppet. I do not doubt that Graize will eventually discover your capture. But, I rather suspect that we will have what we need by then."

"Looks like you crossed your t's and dotted your i's nicely, Aarin," Clay growled through gritted teeth.

"It wasn't easy. But the fact of the matter is, we have you at our mercy."

"And you aren't known for your mercy, are you?"

Dellward said nothing. She merely stared down at Clay as if she were observing an interesting insect crawling in the dirt.

Taking a calming breath, Clay leaned back against the wall, a small smile crossing his face. "Well, I guess all good things come to an end sooner or later, eh? At least that was the case with you and I."

"I want to know when and where Graize is planning to attack us," Dellward said, ignoring Clay's jab.

"Oh, but what a lot of fun you were. Honestly, Aarin, I've had some good times here in Halcyon, but you were something real special. Your warmth, your giving nature, and, of course, that thing you did with your legs."

"How many troops is Graize going to commit? When will they close off our access to the gate?"

"I always knew you were going to climb to the top." Clay grinned up at Dellward. "Lord knows you enjoyed climbing on top of me."

Despite herself, Dellward felt a flare of frustration and embarrassment building in her chest. Shoving it aside, she continued, "Will they attack Second Hope? Or will they try some sort of crossing elsewhere?"

"Shame about that brat you had."

Instantly, Dellward froze.

"You and I, we could have had so much more fun if not for that little 'bundle of joy'. Must have been real hard, becoming High Cardinal while dragging her around."

Working hard to control herself, Dellward spoke, her tone ice cold. "You will answer these questions, Ambassador, one way or another."

"Still, she is a pretty little thing. Cute as a button. You know, sometimes I feel bad for not being there for her and you. I mean, I can't imagine you get much time with her, what with your other duties. Poor kid must be lonely. "

"Enough..." Dellward snarled.

"Still, if she's anything like her mother, she's going to make some young buck real, real happy."

In an instant, Dellward was on Clay, her fists and booted feet slamming into his head and body. There was a nasty crack as the Ambassador's nose shattered, blood spraying the wall and floor. Dellward's attack was furious and brutal, with the sounds of fists and feet slamming into flesh echoing through the cell.

"Your holiness!" Marshal Taunton lunged forward and dragged Dellward back. "Enough! Aarin, enough!"

The Herald and the two Seraphim rushed past Dellward and Taunton to check on the ambassador.

"Is he still alive?" Taunton demanded, still holding Dellward.

"Unconscious but alive," The Herald answered, looking over his shoulder at Dellward. "Your Holiness-"

"I don't care what you have to do to him." Dellward snarled, shaking herself free of Taunton's grip. She drew herself up, her shadow eclipsing both the herald and the ambassador. "I want to know all he knows about what Graize is planning."

Quickly thinking better of voicing his own comments, the Herald bowed. "Yes, your holiness."

Without another word, Dellward spun around and started up the stairs, Marshal Taunton following close behind.

"I don't want to hear it," Dellward growled as Taunton drew up beside her. Dellward glanced downward as she felt a flash of pain from her hand. She was bleeding from several cuts on her knuckles and the back of her hand.

Taunton glanced sideways at Dellward. "If he'd been talking to me about one of my daughters like that, chances are I'd have done the same. But, that being said, we ain't got the liberty to go losing our cool. We're entering dangerous waters here."

Dellward nodded, hiding her hand within her robes. "Graize will be moving, and soon."

"That would certainly be my guess. And yet..." Marshal Taunton crossed his arms. "And yet, our spies haven't told us of any major troop movements."

"So, either they've missed it..." Dellward glanced up at the Marshal.

"Or Graize is planning something less conventional."

"Well, if that's the case, they will rather swiftly find that we have more than a few surprises ready for them."

Taunton nodded gravely. "Project Harrow."

"Mmmm. I'm told that nearly a dozen weapons are prepared and ready." Dellward turned towards the Marshal as she heard him let out a quiet sigh. "Problem, Marshal?"

"I'm hesitant to rely too heavily on such... unorthodox means of waging war. Especially one that has yet to be fully tested."

"We are scheduled for a full-scale test early next season. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get your chance to engage Graize in a more... traditional manner. Either way, I need the militia to be ready to fight."

"We will be. And what of Prime Minister Jackson?"

Dellward paused for a moment, stroking her chin. "Fool that he is... I'm not certain we can keep this from him. He needs to be told."

Taunton nodded. "I agree. I'll see to it that he is informed. You go home."

"Home?" Dellward raised an eyebrow. "I intend to go with you."

"I have a far better relationship with the Prime Minister than you do," Taunton replied. "Besides, you should get your hand looked after."

For a few moments, Dellward considered arguing, but eventually, she relented with a nod. Both Taunton and Dellward emerged from Applegate, back into the waning light of the late afternoon.

"We'll see what the Silver Scales can squeeze out of him," Taunton said as he strode towards a waiting militia land-engine idling on the side of the road, guarded by a trio of Militia soldiers. "With any luck, he'll know what we're up against."

Dellward nodded as she approached her own land engine. "Good luck, Lord High Marshal."

"To you as well, High Cardinal."

Nodding in thanks as the driver held the door for her, Dellward dropped into her seat, relaxing against the soft cushions of the land engine with a heavy sigh. Her face twisted into a scowl as she glanced down at her damaged hand.

'The bastard...'

"Where to, your Holiness." The driver asked as he climbed into the cab.

"To Destiny Gate." Before the land-engine could start to move, she called out again. "Wait... no, I have business elsewhere first."

"As you command your Holiness."

"Take me to Black Garden Prison."

"Ma'am?"

"You heard me. I have business to attend to there."

As the land-engine started to move, Dellward looked out of the window.

"If Graize wants a fight... bring them on," Dellward growled. Slowly, her hands clenched into fists. "We'll show those Federation bastards what real fear is all about."

***

By the time Luke stopped for the night, the sun was already low on the horizon, and the moons were beginning their ascent into the sky.

Before long, Luke had his tent set up, and a fire started. Azee sat across from him, watching the flames dance. She didn't react when Luke pulled several sausage links out of his pack and showed them to Azee.

"Eddie was nice enough to let me raid his pantry," Luke explained. "Elginfrost sausages from Graize. We used to sneak these all the time, remember?"

Azee tilted her head a little. "I... think I remember..."

Luke paused, looking up at Azee. She had the same look on her face that she had since the collar had been placed upon her, vacant and dull, as if she were only vaguely aware of the world around her.

"Don't worry," Luke said, holding the sausage out over the fire. "Once we get to New Burleigh, I'll have Elmer make you a better collar. I won't leave you like this forever, I promise."

"Hmm?"

"Like... like this." Luke gestured at Azee. "I never wanted you to be like this... to be so mindless."

"Oh," her ears drooped a little. "I'm sorry, master."

"No, don't be sorry, it's not..." With a sigh of frustration, Luke shook his head. "It's not your fault. I didn't ask Eddie to put that damn collar on you."

"Oh... okay."

"Listen, everything will work out. I'll send a telegram to this Lavier fellow and get Chara back. I'll make certain that things are different, that they are better. We can forget this whole thing ever happened."

"Whole thing?"

"This... this trip."

"Okay, master."

Luke glanced down as the sausage began to spit, the coals hissing loudly. "We can put all of this behind us." He looked back up at Azee. "Would you like that?"

"Hmmm?"

"Being back home, I mean. Returning to how it used to be before... before Chara left."

Azee didn't reply, instead tilting her head at Luke.

"We can... forget this ever happened. You'll have Chara back, and I'll do everything I can to make sure you're happy." Luke looked expectantly at Azee. "We can... be together again."

"That sounds nice."

"But... is it what you want?"

Azee shrugged a little. "I want what you want, Master."

It was precisely what Luke had wanted to hear, yet the words made him feel terribly empty.

***

It took every ounce of self-control Trip possessed not to moan as he managed to slide his legs over the side of his bed. A low whimper escaped between his gritted as his feet touched the floor, a powerful shock of pain running up his legs and spine.

The room was dark, lit only by the glow of the moon streaming in through the windows. He'd pretended to be asleep all day, waiting for the human woman to leave his side and go to bed.

"Pain is nothing; I'm in control. Pain is nothing; I'm in control..." Trip muttered to himself repeatedly, trying to keep his body from shaking. Raid's words filled him with strength as he slowly lifted himself off the mattress, his legs quaking as he stood. With a deep breath, he started towards the door.

No sooner had he taken three or four steps, his legs gave out, and Trip tumbled to the ground. Despite his best efforts, Trip let out a cry of agony. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried and failed to keep from quietly sobbing.

It didn't take long before he heard footsteps approaching his door. Trip tried to push himself up onto his knees but simply could not. He held his breath, forcing himself to stop crying. He might not be able to stand, but he'd be damned if he let the human see him crying again.

He was expecting to see the human woman or the older vulpine from before, but instead, it was an elderly feline.

Coryn raised an eyebrow as he entered the room and looked down at Trip. "Forgive me, but one would think the bed is a tad more comfortable than the floor."

Trip said nothing in reply, afraid that if he tried to speak, he would start to cry again.

"Well, come on." Coryn stepped forward and started to pick Trip up off of the floor. "Up we go, back into bed with you, young man."

Trip tried to push Coryn away, which earned him a flick between the eyes.

"Don't you start being uncooperative, little one. The mistress may forgive your rudeness, but I have no such inclination."

"Mistress..." Trip looked sideways at Coryn, his gaze resting on the collar around his neck. "So you're her slave."

As he lifted Trip, Coryn was surprised at how light the little lapine was. His ribs were easily visible, and he seemed to be little more than skin and bone.

With a low groan, Coryn laid Trip on the bed as gently as he could. "Yes, I belong to Master Hathaway. I've served her since the day she was born."

"I'm not going to be her slave." Trip growled. "I'd rather die."

Coryn let out an exasperated sigh as he reached down beside the bed and withdrew a small brown bottle. "Yes, I am sure you would. But Miss Hathaway has no interest in enslaving you, not that you would be of much use in your current condition anyways." He leaned close to Trip and uncorked the bottle. "Now, drink this."

"Wh-what is it?" Trip tried to push Coryn away, but between the pain of moving and his own weak muscles, he could do little more than slap wearily at Coryn's hand.

"Medicine," Coryn replied, shoving the mouth of the bottle into Trip's mouth.

Trip continued to try and fight back as, with his free hand, Coryn plugged Trip's nose. Trip thrashed about and gagged as a horrifyingly bitter taste filled his mouth. Setting the bottle aside, Coryn held Trip's nose closed with one hand, and gently massaged his throat with the other.

"Don't inhale it," Coryn said firmly. "Just swallow, and it will be over."

After a few moments, Trip was forced to swallow, his whole body convulsing from the awful taste.

With a satisfied nod of his head, Coryn poured a glass of water from the pitcher beside Trip's bed and handed it to the gagging lapine. "Here you are."

Trip's hand shook terribly as he took the glass and swallowed the water.

"Tyrant's balls, what was that?" He gasped.

In a flash, Coryn slapped Trip across the back of the head. "Language, young man!" He cleared his throat. "It'll help dull the pain, since you are too foolish or stubborn to use a suppression rune."

"No more collars, ever."

"Yes, yes, I heard as much from Miss Hathaway." Coryn sighed and shook his head, using a handkerchief to wipe away some medicine and drying the fur around Trip's mouth. "Personally, I'd have forced you to wear it, but she seems to put great stock in your feelings, for reasons I am sure I can't imagine."

"And you trust her?" Trip demanded, nodding at the many cuts, bruises, and bandages wrapped around Coryn's body. "After she did that to you?"

"Miss Hathaway did not do this to me," Coryn replied sharply. "It was, in fact, a pack of Order thugs whom Miss Hathaway not only chased away but threatened to harm should they continue to attack me."

"R-really?"

"Indeed. I owe Miss Hathaway my life, as do you."

"I... I don't owe a human anything! They've taken everything from me my whole life!"

Coryn raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you were trying to get out of bed? To try and fend for yourself?"

Trip paused for a moment. "I... I have to... I promised, I promised that I would never stop fighting."

"Young man, every Order agent in Flinton Valley is looking for you. If you are caught, chances are they will skin you alive, and then they will get really nasty." Coryn sighed as he set about trying to tuck Trip in. "If you wish to return to fighting once fully healed, that is your business. But for now, Miss Hathaway has asked, note the word asked, not ordered, asked me to look after you and see to it you heal."

"Am I a prisoner here then?" Trip demanded.

"You are in a human bed, with fresh sheets and blankets, good food, and clean water whenever you require it. But if considering yourself a prisoner makes you feel better, then it is hardly my place to stop you."

Trip stared up at Coryn in confusion. "I... You..."

"Has Miss Hathaway told you why she put herself in such danger to rescue you?"

"She... she said it was because I asked."

"Mmmm, that does sound like her." Coryn nodded as he set about checking Trip's bandages. "She was always impulsive, made looking after her rather difficult to be honest."

Coryn smiled to himself as he was flooded with memories. "Even when she became pregnant with Master Rory, she was determined to take her own path, regardless of what her family said about it."

Trip tilted his head slightly. "She has children?"

Coryn's hands froze. "It's... not really my place to say... But yes, Miss Hathaway had a son. He was taken from her by an illness some years back." With a quick shake of his head, Croyn returned to checking Trip's bandages. "I believe that she sees aspects of her son in you."

Trip's ears drooped a little. "So... she only saved me because of that..."

"You sound almost disappointed."

"I..." Despite himself, Trip felt his face turning red. "I don't want to be pitied."

"Well, to be fair, you are a rather pitiable specimen." Coryn couldn't help but smile a little at the dirty look Trip threw him. "Perhaps she does pity you, but it isn't the reason why she has acted to protect you."

Trip blinked in surprise. "Then... why?"

"She has changed since she met you." Coryn straightened, groaning a little from his stiff muscles. "It would seem that something you said or did reached a part of her that she had... thought she buried. I imagine she had a hard time imagining someone like you when she thought about 'rebels'."

"She shouldn't be surprised. Every one of us should fight against slavery." Trip's eyes narrowed. "Anyone who doesn't fight is a collaborator."

Unimpressed, Coryn raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"The only way things like our slavery can continue is people not fighting." Raid's words came easily to Trip. He'd heard them often, spoken around the fire as he and the other rebels listened with rapt attention to Raid's lectures.

Coryn, however, was unmoved. "Listen to me, little one, there is a great difference between refusing to fight when the time comes and lacking the strength to fight."

"And what about you?" Trip pressed. "Your 'master' treats you well, so you don't fight back?"

"You're hopelessly naive. We all do what we have to to survive."

"Surviving isn't good enough! You have to fight, or they take everything from you."

"Just surviving is fighting."

"Really? How many humans have you killed?"

"Is that the only way you know how to fight? Killing?" Coryn crossed his arms. "If I had killed Miss Hathaway, you wouldn't be here right now."

"If you'd killed her, she never would have caught me in the first place."

"Fair," Coryn nodded. "But I'd be dead. Whereas now, Miss Hathaway has changed into the sort of person who sees her son when she looks at you rather than an unruly pelt that needs putting down. I'll wager she's worth more to your cause alive than dead. Had I killed her, that would have been lost."

Trip's eyes narrowed. "You just sound like you're too afraid."

Coryn took a breath to issue a harsh rebuke, but his shoulders slumped instead, and he sighed. "Fighting to change things is the right thing to do. I don't want to be enslaved. No one does. And if we are ever to be free, it will likely require people like you to fight. But isn't demanding that we all fight, regardless of our ability, just another form of coercion? Doesn't that make you just another master?"

Trip paused. "Wh-what?"

"Would you make it so that everyone has to choose? No matter their ability, no matter their strengths or circumstances, on blood alone? They need to choose to fight or to be a collaborator. And what would you do to these 'collaborators'? How would you punish those like me who just wanted to live with what happiness we can scrape together."

Again, Trip found himself struggling to find an answer. When he'd listened to Raid, everything had made so much sense, had seemed so right. But now...

"B-but don't you understand? If everyone fought, there are more of us than there are of them! We could win!"

"Or we would all die."

"Better dead than a slave!"

Croyn raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. And yet, here you are. Could you not have dashed your own brains out in your cell rather than live as a symbol for them? A toy for them to kill?"

"B-but I..."

"If you truly fear that Miss Hathaway will enslave you, and seeing as you can't fight at the moment, surely death is your only option."

"I..."

"You said it yours, better dead than a slave. So, why are you still here?"

Trip's lower lip started to tremble as he felt a pulse of fear run up his body. Tears filled his eyes as he looked away from Coryn, unable to meet the old feline's gaze, hot shame burning on his face.

"Life is hope, young one, and hope is a wonderful and terrible thing." Coryn sighed. "And frankly, as inconvenient as your presence is, and as much as I resent the danger you've put Miss Hathaway in, I hope you choose to live. And I know for a fact that that is what she would prefer as well."

"I..." As he started to speak, Trip let out a loud yawn. He blinked in surprise as suddenly he felt as if he could no longer hold his head up. "Wha... why am I... so tired."

"Because the medicine I gave you is working at last." Coryn folded his arms and nodded. "You'll have a nice long sleep. It should stop you from trying to get out of bed again for a time at least. Good thing too, I don't have enough strength in these old bones to go chasing after you all evening."

"But I..." Trip's head swam as he yawned again, relaxing as he felt himself sink into the soft mattress.

"Hush, go to sleep." The corners of Coryn's muzzle turned up into a smile. "I am sure we will have much to talk about later."

But Trip didn't hear Coryn speak, he was already gone, falling into a deep, calm slumber.

***

By the time Dellward arrived back at her apartment, all of Destiny Gate was asleep, save for the guards and the eternal choir. Striding through the darkened halls, Dellward dismissed her Seraphim guards with a wave before entering her quarters.

As Dellward stepped into her quarters, one of the servants clambered to her feet and bowed. "Your Holiness, welcome home."

Dellward couldn't help but smile as the servant helped her remove her robes. "It's past midnight, Annie, what are you still doing awake?"

"Thought at least one of us should be awake when you returned, ma'am. I can make you up a plate of supper if you like."

"Yes, that would be appreciated."

As she hung up Dellward's robes, the servant noticed the bandages around Dellward's hands. "Your Holiness, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Dellward nodded. "Excuse me, I'll return shortly."

Stepping out from the kitchen, Dellward crept down the hall towards Almecia's room. Opening the door as quietly as she could, she stepped inside and approached her daughter's bed.

As she gently sat down on the edge of the bed, Dellward reached out and stroked her daughter's hair with a smile.

"Mother?" Almecia's eyes opened slightly.

"Hello, my precious one."

"You're home late..."

"I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

Almecia's eyes opened a little more as she saw the bandages on her mother's hands. "You're hurt..."

Dellward smiled again. "It's nothing, sweetie." Petting her daughter's head again, she whispered, "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Mhmm. Thorne is coming back. You should be able to see him soon."

Immediately Almecia sat up. "Uncle Thorny is back?!"

"He's not your... You shouldn't..." Dellward sighed as she patted her daughter's head. "Yes, he's back. Perhaps in a few days we can see him."

Almecia grinned and nodded quickly. "I can't wait to see him again. He always gives the best shoulder rides."

"He'll be happy to see you too, I am sure. Now, get some sleep, alright."

"But-"

"The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can see him."

Almecia nodded and immediately threw herself down on the pillow.

"Dangerous times are coming..." Dellward whispered as Almecia bunched up her blankets under her chin. "But I promise you, I'll keep you safe, no matter what I have to do."

"I know, mother. I love you."

Dellward got to her feet and smiled down at Almecia. "I love you too, my precious one."

END OF CHAPTER 43

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