A small measure of strength came to Ban from a distance. A gift from his Huntress. It flooded into him and drove away his fatigue. Kimpo must have known somehow that he'd still be awake at this hour. She knew him about as well as anyone. Between Kimpo and Moon, he didn't have much room for mystique. Those two had him figured out, fully and completely. Ban returned Kimpo a part of his ether as thanks.

Refreshed to take the edge off his weariness, he leaned over the broad table in his command tent, poring over tactical maps of the region by etherlight. The red glow of his sigils bathed the tent interior in crimson. A warm color to match the heat in the air. He'd lived his life in the frozen south, where summer only provided a brief thaw, so he wasn't yet acclimated to warmer climates. It was the First of Steed, the start of the last month of spring, and Ban wagered he'd swelter inside his armor long before the Month of Sun arrived.

A sheen of sweat clung to his torso. In the northern heat, he found himself wearing less as the days grew longer. It was just about the only way an Altieri man could survive up here. The rest of the legion was faring little better. Most of them were also Altieri. Some were Dellish, Drildanian, and even a few Irdish. There were nine noble houses now sworn to serve House Yora and Shan Alee, Karst included, and few of them were from parts of the Continent used to warm weather.

And we're marching into the rainforests and moors of Melcia in summer, Ban thought wryly. Waves, but Kastus would chew my ear off over it if he were still alive.

Ban's old master in both magical and martial practices had a number of rules when it came to warfare. First and foremost of them all, think before you march. It seemed a simple rule on the surface, but as Ban grew older, he'd begun to realize what Kastus meant with that axiom. There were always more things to think about than one rune knight could mull over in one sitting. If his understanding of a situation could be summarized in one or two sentences, he didn't understand it well enough to speak about it with authority.

It made Kastus' second rule somewhat paradoxical. Speak as you act, with brevity and clarity. Ban supposed if you couldn't impart at least a layman's knowledge in short order, you didn't understand the situation all that well, either.

Ban rubbed at his eyes and frowned. Even after burning the man to ashes with hellfire, Ban still tried to adhere to his former master's teachings. Whatever else Kastus was-- traitor, murderer, war criminal-- he'd known better than to fight the world with just five thousand soldiers. No, Kastus and Ban's late brother had aimed to try it with twenty-five thousand.

Five times the manpower, but just as impossible.

You couldn't have won, Ban thought to his mentor in the Beyond. Every way Ban looked at the maps as he tried to catch a glimpse of the larger game made that clear. You had to know you couldn't win. Rodrik's Rebellion was doomed from the start. Even I can see that.

Ban's eyes fell on the stack of papers beside his maps. They were a transcription of the deciphered contents of Duke Falthis Algara's journal.

The civil war was a ploy. Vintus and Falthis wanted our squabbling to destabilize the Five Kingdoms and pave the way for the demons. Didn't you see it was hopeless? You must have.

There were few things Ban thought could surprise him anymore, but something inside him resisted the idea of Knight-General Kastus Valdar being a thrall.

He taught me Shoveth, Ban thought. A fell rune, that of decay which could alter a spell of fire to conjure black flames which gave no light. Ban used to favor the hellfire sigils he could craft with Shoveth for their power, but even then, he'd been wary of the destruction they were capable of. A small measure of ether waned in Ban's chest, heralding the use of his elder magic of insight.

The Shoveth rune, Paladin Sergei's use of a seven focal point interdiction, Kastus' murder of Brother Skoer from the blood runners, the contents of the Duke's journal, and Kastus' apparent failure to recognize a futile war against the Highest King. It all led Ban to an inescapable conclusion.

Kastus had served the old masters.

Ban had no idea what he was supposed to do with this information. Take it as a lesson, perhaps. Anyone could be working for the demons, even a renowned knight as outwardly honorable as Kastus Valdar.

There might be demon thralls even here, Ban thought, and it was a disquieting idea. In fact, I'm sure there are.

By everything relayed to him, from Varn the Librarian or the late Merovech's cabal, Shan Alee was not a part of the old masters' plans. That must have meant they'd set someone to at the very least keep an eye on Enfri. The Dragon Empress was a variable unaccounted for in their grand stratagem to tear down modern civilization and remake it for their enigmatic purposes.

Ban had to believe everything would become so much simpler if he could only learn what they wanted. What was their goal? Why toy with the races of the world as if they were arjapieces on the game board across countless ages? They'd been doing this for a very long time, maybe even the beginning of time, and no one seemed to know why.

He wasn't going to learn by staring at the same map he'd been looking at for the past two weeks. He'd have preferred to stay awake until Enfri and Jin got back from the gala-- if he didn't miss his guess, some congratulations would be in order-- but there was a long day ahead. The Knight-Marshal of Shan Alee would need to be at his best when they marched. Ban unlocked his sigils and let the tent grow dark.

Behind him on his cot, there was a gentle rustle. Ban looked to the movement and felt a smile growing despite his worries. A pair of hooves poked out from the blankets, and quiet snores accompanied them. A mound formed over Rippling Moon's antlers where she had her head covered by blankets.

Goblins didn't hold to many human traditions, particularly when it came to how two people chose to live their lives together. As far as Moon, her brother, and their entire tribe was concerned, Ban and Moon were already mates. For the rest of the Five Kingdoms, a bit of ceremony was yet required, but Moon was gracious enough to agree to going through the motions. Out of consideration for Ban's bizarre human traditions, of course.

Ban sat on the side of the cot and pulled the blanket down. Moon stirred but didn't wake. Her eyes, too big and far apart to be mistaken as human, were closed, and her platinum blonde hair was worn loose rather than in the usual mass of braids. Ban put a hand on her leg and ran his fingers through the fur covering them. It grew shorter as it went up her thigh, ending at her hip.

He rest his hand on her stomach and bent down to lay his head over her navel. Ban couldn't hear anything in there yet, but Enfri had told him it'd be a few months before he could. Careful not to disturb Moon, he simply remained there and breathed in her scent, felt her warmth. Goblins ran hotter than most, but Ban wouldn't admit even under torture how it made Moon's tendency to snuggle a tad uncomfortable. Same went for the antlers, and he had the welts to prove it.

Whatever difficulties there may have been, Ban would take them all and a hundred more for what Moon gave him. It was indefinable yet indispensable. She knew him and loved him regardless. He was hers, and Rippling Moon was his. His blue, his wife, his lisichka.

"Lady Rippling Moon Karst," Ban said, testing it out. He wrinkled his nose. Didn't quite roll off the tongue.

Unimportant. Moon could just go on calling herself whatever she wished, and whatever ended up on the official documentation wouldn't matter. What concerned Ban more was what to call the other Karst-to-be.

Ban repositioned to lie beside her and placed his hand over her belly. Moon snuffled and rolled to nuzzle against his chest. She mumbled something about dragons snitching her knives before she settled down again.

Moon was calling the baby a girl for the moment, even though it couldn't be certain yet. A red boy, a blue girl, something in-between, or neither. Perhaps they'd be like their mother and choose their own path. Whoever they became, Ban would hold the child precious.

Against all odds, Ban Karst was to be a father.

"Love is infinite, rybka," Ban whispered to his child as he remembered something Pacifica once told him. "We can always muster a little more for someone new."

"Is new word," Moon said through a yawn. "Old water-scented word. What is?"

"It means 'little fish'."

She made a strange sound from the back of her throat. It communicated both her tiredness and puzzlement.

"Come off it. Fish are cute."

"Ban is rocker." Moon yawned again before burying her face in his chest and dropping back to sleep.

The prongs of her antlers dug into Ban's collarbone. He endured it as best he could, but he found himself looking forward to when they'd fall out in autumn. Just kissing her was becoming treacherous, not to mention the goblin equivalent. Ban was forced to draw healing from Kimpo whenever Moon's affection opened up a gash on his forehead.

There was a lot to get used to and to overcome about loving someone so different. Pitfalls, cultural misunderstandings, and even simple stereotypes. But so very much worth the effort.

Will our kid have antlers? Ban wondered. Hooves? Four fingers to a hand or five?

Ban found himself hoping for hooves. It'd mean less time spent at the cobblers, though he'd need to keep on the twerp about scrubbing their feet clean before coming inside.

Someone cleared their throat from just outside the tent. Ban supposed he should've expected he'd be needed as soon as he decided it was time to sleep. He bent to give Moon a parting kiss on the shoulder before walking the tightrope of leaving the blankets without getting stabbed.

"What is it?" Ban asked quietly as he stepped out of his tent.

The messenger was Lady Natyana Rulkan, Ban's first officer. Nat was a newly knighted paladin of House Karst, only recently raised from the ranks of squires. She was eighteen, ambitious, and had her eye on being inducted as a full Arcane Knight before long. Her errand must've been urgent as she was out of armor and out of uniform. Nat was in her nightdress, and the sweat on her brow either meant she ran to get here or she was dealing with the weather about as well as Ban was. Of all the Altieri-born knights in Shan Alee, Nat might have been the smallest. More compact than short, she had well-formed muscles that could tear the arm off a bear if she had a will to. Her crimson hair was tied back for bed, and her lavender eyes were troubled.

"Lady Starra has returned from Drok Moran, Marshal," Nat said while snapping a fist to the center of her chest.

Ban returned the salute before gesturing for Nat to stand at ease. It was a relief that this wasn't about Enfri. He'd been worried Fen had carried out some wild ambition of taking the Dragon Empress captive. "Something must be wrong if you're coming to tell me about it at this hour."

Nat must have taken it as a rebuke by the way she was blushing. "Aye, sir. Mistress Reyn is injured. Lady Starra reported that she has been targeted by blood magic."

"Blood magic?" Ban repeated. "Waves, but nothing can be simple. Cobrin's tent?"

"Aye, sir. Brother Joshuan was taking her."

Ban snatched a shirt from a nearby hook and pulled it over his head. "So the blood runner came back after all. Good."

The surgeon tents weren't far. There were a great many of them, most filled to capacity with the wounded from the Battle of Moran Valley. Not just with Aleesh but well over two hundred Nadians and seven hundred Melcians. It was important to Enfri that prisoners of war receive the same quality of care her own armsmen could expect. A noble practice, but it was playing havoc with the legion's supply of medicine. At least the dragons were recovered, but the captured renegades were now causing a whole other set of problems.

Nat escorted Ban to Cobrin's surgery tent, which was set up next to Enfri's alchemical field lab. Ban eyed the lab disapprovingly as he passed. The empress wasn't back yet. Ban hadn't liked this mad idea of walking in on Fen's gala uninvited. Enfri would swat him if she knew, but Ban had sent five dragons to follow her in case everything went sideways. Deebee would be close to her, in the form of a mouse or spider, but even the Storyteller wasn't invincible. Kimpo, Grimdar, and three blue dragons would provide backup if it was needed.

Turning to look ahead, Ban saw someone else rushing to Cobrin's tent. He felt a surge of indignant frustration. "Floundering dolt," Ban scolded. "You shouldn't be walking around."

Pacifica pulled up short and skewered him with an icy glare. "Don't you call me a dolt, you reprobate. I'm perfectly fine."

"Like hell you are," Ban said.

Like Nat, Pacifica was also in her nightdress, and her scarlet hair was draped over her shoulder in a braid. They were both the same age and same height, but Pacifica wasn't nearly so fit as Nat was. She was small and dainty, practically fragile, but Ban had made it a point to remind himself that Pacifica wasn't the prim and proper princess he remembered. Not anymore, at least.

Pacifica was an Arcane Knight, the Lady of Diamonds. And by way of a bloodsong delivered by Krayson, she was arguably among the most powerful arcanists on the Continent. Of course, raw power wasn't the same thing as skill or experience, and Pacifica had a long way yet to go before she could make proper use of the Merovech bloodsong.

Even so, dead girls shouldn't have been walking around as if they hadn't been dead.

"Leave off, Ban," Pacifica huffed. "Even Cobrin's saying I'm well enough to walk around, and I'm not about to lie in bed while Reyn's in danger."

Ban scowled.

"I'll get Enfri on my side," Pacifica threatened. "We both know you can't say no to her to save your life."

"She's my empress. I can't say no to her."

Pacifica flicked her wrist at him. "If that's what you think, I hope she orders you to scrub the latrines."

Nat cleared her throat into her fist. "By your leave, Marshal?"

"Dismissed," Ban replied absently. He was only vaguely aware of how Nat retreated at something only just shy of a run. Before he could get distracted, he leveled a finger at Pacifica. "Now, see here. I'm in command of the legion, and if I say a soldier is confined to bed, they're confined."

"I'm not part of the legion," Pacifica said scathingly. "I'm the Ecclesian consular and interim head of the imperial diplomatic corps. You don't have any authority over me."

"You're still a Dragon Lord, and I'm the First Knight."

Pacifica scoffed. "That only means you cast the deciding vote on ties during forums."

"What?" Ban exclaimed. "Who decided that? Since when?"

"Since the Dragon Lords ratified the latest articles into the constitution. You were there, weren't you? It passed unanimously." Pacifica tapped her fingertips to her lips in a parody of studious contemplation. "I must say I thought we'd get more resistance from you more militaristic knighthoods."

"You fight dirty, Romov. All you did was bore us into comas so you could do whatever you wanted."

"And a good thing, too," Pacifica said, hands on hips. Her face was turning red now that Ban had raised her pique. "I'm nervous enough about moving political power away from the nobility to knighthoods, so I'll be damned if I let a bunch of heavy-footed bucket heads chart the course of an empire."

Ban felt his head begin to swim at the mere mention of the constitution. This whole concept of governance, a meritocracy, was foreign to him. By the letter of the law in the Five Kingdoms, it fit within the guidelines allowed to sovereign powers beneath the Highest King. However, Ban doubted the noble houses sworn to Enfri would be as happy about it as Pacifica seemed to be. Their holdings and wealth wouldn't have near as much clout in policy as a common-born goodman who happened to have a talent for planning roadways.

"Our numbers are too few," Pacifica argued on, "our holdings are too small, the work ahead is too big, and our position is too fragile to let one strong house dominate political discourse. The best people for the right task, and for now, the Arcane Knights are the only viable way to get those best people into the right tasks with the means and methods to accomplish them. What it is to be a knight has to evolve beyond what it's been for the last six hundred years. More than just a well-equipped fighter, but an elite expert in their field whatever it may be. Call the old empire whatever you want, but the Dragon Emperors knew what they were doing when it came to the delegation of duties!"

Cobrin burst out of his tent and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Will you two shut up? It's the middle of the night, I got a sick girl in here, and she's sensitive to loud noises!" He snapped the flaps of his tent closed.

Pacifica jerked a thumb in Cobrin's general direction. "The Lord of Citrines himself just told you to shut up, Ban. You ought to listen."

If Ban didn't think he'd catch hell over it, he'd bundle Pacifica up in a sack and toss her into Leyr Ishan to cool her head. She didn't even have the decency to look abashed over how she was the one shouting more than anyone. Floundering twit of a princess.

Ban rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. The hour was too late for this sort of thing, and if Pacifica was determined to run herself ragged until she was dead again, so be it. She just better not expect to get pulled back out of the Beyond next time. Ban could only assume that was a one time deal.

"Look, the last thing I want right now is to go over the minutes," Ban said. "I need to find out what happened in the city."

Pacifica blushed, finally seeming to understand how infuriating she was being. "Yes, of course," she murmured. "I was told it was blood magic."

"That's about all I know at this point, too. So, if you're willing, what say we get it from the horse's mouth?"

She gave a determined nod and let Ban lead the way into Cobrin's tent.

The Lord of Citrines afforded the two of them a sour glance as they walked in before returning to his examination of Reyn. He was a tall and reedy man with long arms. His short, reddish-brown hair had almost turned completely gray, as had his curled and oiled mustache. He wore a white apron over his tunic and trousers, and he peered into Reyn's eyes using a hand lens.

Cobrin's bonded dragon, Ujuur the Physician, assisted him. Ujuur was in her human form, a slender and young-looking woman with criss-crossing orange markings across her jet black skin. Ujuur had a round and pretty face, bright blue eyes, and long hair the color of ash. She assisted Cobrin by preparing an alchemical investiture in their shared workspace.

Reyn remained seated on Cobrin's table, looking drained of all vitality. Lady Starra stood behind her with a worried expression, and Krayson lurked in the back with his arms crossed. Pacifica went immediately to Reyn's side and took her hand.

Ban listened to Pacifica's fretting and Reyn's assurances that she was well with half an ear. He circled wide of them to make his way to Krayson. "Good to see you back so soon," he said. "Almo make it back with you?"

Krayson nodded and removed the tinted spectacles from his eyes. He tucked them into his pocket. "He has gone searching for Saveen. He grew worried when he heard the blues were given an assignment within the city."

"Saveen's not part of that. I try not to make a habit of sending untrained youths into danger."

"She is more capable than most would give her credit for," Krayson said.

"That she is." Ban gave Krayson a sidelong look. "Enfri keeps wondering if you want your bond with her back."

Krayson shook his head. "I'd prefer not to be responsible for her."

Ban held back from snorting. As he saw it, Krayson was closer to Saveen the Bastion's older brother than her knight. The two looked out for each other, though both were oddly resistant to receiving a bond to replace the one forced on them by Elise. Ban indicated Reyn with a nod of his head. "So, what can you tell me about what happened?"

Krayson's mouth drew into a line. "Someone placed a wilt curse on her and triggered it as we were preparing to leave."

Ban swore quietly. He looked over at Reyn and decided that the fact she was still alive should be taken as a miracle. "How is she?"

"I was able to slow the curse before she succumbed to it," Krayson said. "Once we teleported back to the camp, Starra used her spike to destroy the spell, and we brought her to the surgeons. It was a close call, but she will fully recover in short order."

"Good," Ban said, relieved. "Reyn's valuable to us, and Enfri relies on her. Go on."

"Reyn assures us that she examined her imprint soon before the curse struck, and there were no spells on her. I believe her Dekaam arts were simply unable to detect blood magic."

"Does that make a difference?" Ban asked. "Blood magic isn't in my experience."

"It does. Blood magic tends to meld with a mortal's prime imprint, becoming all but indistinguishable. Reyn is, fortunately, unaccustomed to blood mages and wouldn't have experience making the distinction. There are a number of spells woven into my own blood that even Her Majesty wouldn't be able to sense."

Ban felt a pull at his ether, though he couldn't fathom why. "What sort of spells?"

Krayson raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe it pertinent?"

"Maybe. Humor me."

"Sustaining spells, for one. It allows my body to draw on ether for sustenance should I be without food and water for a time. Several from the restoration school, also. Should I be severely injured, I would lapse into a death-like stasis until I healed."

Ban's hydromancy pulled harder. There was something there, but he couldn't let himself get distracted from the matter at hand. "She might not have been able to tell she was wilted, then," Ban said. "Any idea who could've done it?"

"I understand she was meeting with an informant," Krayson said. "Reyn reported that this informant attempted to sneak other spells onto her-- markings for future scries and the like-- but doubts there was cause for a wilt curse to be in the mix. In any case, the informant did not appear to be a blood mage."

"Who was the informant?" Ban asked.

Reyn spoke up to answer the question. "Her name was Komali, Lord Bannlyth. I have reason to suspect she may be the leader of a local cell of Courtesans."

Ban stiffened. "Courtesans? Waves, but what possessed you to go looking for Courtesans?"

Reyn and Pacifica exchanged a veiled look that made Ban feel like he was missing something important. Whatever secret they shared, Reyn gave him an answer. "Given our tentative alliance with Lady Starra and the rest of the Merovech's former apprentices, I believed it wise to determine the Courtesans' disposition towards Shan Alee and Her Majesty."

Starra scoffed. "Tentative? Dear one, I should say it's more or less set in stone at this point."

Ban appraised Starra. Gorgeous as any woman he'd ever seen, but she put Ban on edge. She was friendly enough, and he had no misgivings about how close she was getting with Enfri. If nothing else, Jin spoke for Starra, and that carried weight with him. However, Ban didn't much care for the way her eyes lingered on him at times. It wasn't like how a woman might look at a man, or even how a predator might look at prey. But as an arcanist might look at a new reagent. She studied him, and that was as worrisome a notion as any other he'd known.

"We have been told the Courtesans have long been tools of the old masters, Lord Bannlyth," Reyn continued. "I wished to corroborate what Brother Joshuan has learned, that the Courtesans' activities could be another tactic being used against the Five Kingdoms."

"And?" Ban asked. "What did you find?"

Reyn looked to Pacifica. Ban noted how their held hands were gripping each other tightly.

"It is as Brother Joshuan says, my lord. They may not all be thralls, but I believe their highest leader must be. A man from Primus named Nalthorio is now commander of the Courtesans."

Ban blinked. "You managed to get that out of your informant? Waves and tides, but the Highest King would pay a thousand gold marks for a hint of who the commander is, and you got a name?"

"It is likely only a codename, my lord," Reyn said. "The commander might be anyone."

"Even so..." Ban murmured. Secretive to a fault or not, Reyn had impressed him. He ought to pin Pacifica down at some point and find out where exactly the two of them met. "So we can't be sure, but is it at least possible that this Komali put the wilt curse on you?"

Reyn sighed. "It is possible."

"But unlikely."

"She may have placed one as added insurance and activated it if she learned I had removed her marking spells. However, her eyes were not red."

Ban shrugged. "There are ways around that. Eye-coloring investitures. Starra used them in the Spired City, and so did Enfri when she first came to Ecclesia."

"There were none as I could find," Reyn said. "I was able to examine Komali's imprint in detail."

"How..." Ban felt one more pull at his ether. He knew his face was turning red, and by the way everyone else in the tent was glaring at him, he realized he was the last one to put together what Reyn's meeting with Komali must have entailed. "Ah. Well... good work."

Reyn nodded graciously.

Komali, Ban thought. I've heard that name before. Could just be a common one, I suppose.

Cobrin began shooing the group out of the tent, though he allowed Pacifica to stay behind. Ban suspected he did so mostly to keep an eye on her. As he left the tent alongside Krayson, Ban finally let his ether work at the things nagging at him. The drain was steady and deep, meaning it was a tenuous connection at best, one he didn't have all the information he needed for hydromancy to reveal the truth.

Something to do with the spells a blood mage could weave on themselves.

He, Krayson, and Lady Starra each went their separate ways. Pleasantries were exchanged, but there was no further discussion on the issues facing Shan Alee. That could wait until Enfri was there to take part in it.

Ban pulled his ether back. From experience, he knew he might feed his hydromancy until he was ethershocked and still not learn anything. Even when he did, there was no guarantee it would be information he could use. It wasn't a good idea to use the insight more than he needed, because Ban was starting to realize the cost exacted from him by his elder magic.

There was nothing he feared more.

As it stood, it was only getting later, and Rippling Moon would have his hide if she woke up to find him missing. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and Ban wanted to face it with at least half a night's rest.