Ardaik 13th – Wallcastle Tops Mountain Range, Lorellia

Putting together a suit of armor from the remnants wasn't as easy as Kamuhr had made it seem. Rowan had several pieces strewn out before him and was busy trying to salvage belts and buckles to lash onto the pieces that would fit him. But with only makeshift tools, the most basic knowledge of what he was doing, and the dim light of a small campfire to aid him, Rowan already felt defeated.

"Grah!" Rowan stood, tossing the vambrace he'd been struggling with to the ground. "This'll never work!" his words echoed through the cavern, punctuated by the sound of the vambrace clattering to its resting spot in the shadows.

"Then we must find someone who can make it work," the white dragon's words barely tugged at Rowan's attention as he searched the dark for the brace.

"And how would we get there with your old friend Auganull waiting for us?"

Rowan had a point. The black dragon had likely only failed to follow them inside because of the nature of the caverns. Speed was his ally, and the tight confines afforded him none.

"These caverns run deep. We'll find another way."

Rowan didn't respond right away. His attention had been drawn to something he'd found in the dark while searching for the brace—a shard of the shell. It was as big as his arm, meaning the egg that produced it must have been from something large—something dragon-sized. That must have been how Kamuhr knew about these caves. She used them as a nest. The thought of the dragon caring for her eggs amongst the bones of men made his skin crawl. The amount of hate she must have had for humans, to nest amongst their bones... Well, Rowan didn't suppose it was the sort of hate that someone just forgave and forgot.

"And say we do. Then what? How long am I to be a slave to your whims?" Rowan asked, the edge creeping back into his tone, poised for a fight.

"Slave?" the low, soft rumble of laughter shook the cavern like distant thunder. "Slave? I see no chain holding you to my service," the dragon noted as her head came in close, allowing him to see his own scowl mirrored in her blue eyes. "But if you'd prefer to find your own way out...,"

Rowan chewed on his lip a moment before sighing. "No, I don't suppose I do..." he broke their stare and stomped back over to the pieces he'd collected, bundling them into an old tapestry and then slinging the makeshift sack over his back.

***

Ardaik 14th – Wallcastle Tops Mountain Range, Lorellia

"Well, time to go," Obi said as he got up from the uncomfortable rock he'd been seated on for far too long.

"What?" Auganull's response might have sounded comical if it wasn't coming from a nearly fourteen-ton black dragon with a poor disposition, but that hardly seemed to phase the necromancer, who didn't even bother to turn and look at him as he responded.

"I have an engagement, and I won't be late."

"Kamuhr..."

"Yes, it's a pity that she'll live, but seeing as you've both survived the injustice of being denied the pleasure of killing each other, what's the harm in another week or two?"

"You're mocking me."

"No!" the necromancer seethed, "I'm simply trying to keep a schedule!"

Auganull's snort brushed the long white wisps of Obi's hair out of his face as the dragon shifted and opened his wings.

"Fine. I'll take you, but then I come back to finish this."

"Yes, fine! Eat every village between La'Trest and Tulot on your way if you like!" Obi said as he climbed up onto the dragon's back. Honestly, he'd have probably agreed to anything just so long as he got what he wanted...

***

Ardaik 14th – Homenil, Serellia

Iain tipped his head to McKee while the guard opened the door for him, and he stepped into the royal suite, his pipe leaving a thin trail of smoke in his wake. He tipped his head in a silent good morning greeting to the king as he took a seat at the private dining table.

"Your Majesty, Garesto has requested that we reduce the number of dragons near the bay. Apparently, they are, and I quote-" Bhalthier cleared his throat. "A nuisance and a threat to our local fishermen and national security."

"Bah!" Liam snorted in return. "Those dragons saved their prince and their king! They know it, and I know it!"

"And they are in violation of our treaty with Lorellia."

"Treaty? They've got undead and reavers crawling all over from La'Trest to Malton!"

"Then shall I tell them that we decline?"

"Huh? No! Just... Eh, fine. Tell 'em we'll make sure they stay inland," Liam grumbled. "...Blasted bureaucrats."

"I'll be sure the word is passed along to our winged friends."

"Speaking of their prince," Iain said around the neck of his pipe, "how long do ya intend to entertain the lad? I don't imagine most Lorellians do know what we did fer King Viotto. Nor can I fathom his folks not gettin' up-ity bout him being here."

"That's a fair point... But it could work in our favor just as well," Bhalthier thought aloud.

"Ya hope," Iain said. "Seems risky ta me...an' I'm still not convinced that those sailors won't simply claim we nabbed the cub against his will."

"We'll discuss it all at the assembly. Have we gotten word back from the other jarls?" asked the King.

"All but one... Ravencliff still has not responded to the summons."

Iain hummed, smoke trailing up and over his graying hair. "I wonder what's keepin' em." The gravity in his tone well expressed his worry. "I pray to the highest branch that necromancer hasn't made an appearance here."

Despite the meeting only being the three of them, Bhalthier still felt he was at his social limit for the day, and it wasn't even lunch yet.

After excusing himself, he left Iain and Liam to discuss things further and was looking forward to some solitude in his study. However, he wasn't even able to make it the short distance across to the hall before he heard a voice call out to him.

He cursed softly under his breath as he turned to face Artus, doing his best not to look as haggard and irritated as he felt.

"Your Highness, good morning."

"Good morning," the Lorellian prince replied, his gaze clearly traveling down Bhalthier's tall frame before returning to his face. "I was hoping you would spare a moment, as you implied last evening. It is morning."

"So it is. Very well, follow me." Bhalthier turned back toward his intended destination, only this time, he held the door for Artus to join him.

"...You aren't fond of allowing others in here, are you?" Artus asked almost absently as he folded his hands behind his back. Even at mid-morning, little daylight infiltrated the study. So little, in fact, that the lit lamps were a much-needed light source so that one could move around without fear of brushing and knocking over a precariously stacked column of books or journals.

"Was it that obvious?" the marquis wondered as he reached over the desk to open the small window and allow a few more rays in. "I apologize for that. I have my reasons, but they are certainly no fault of yours." In truth, the fault lay squarely with him and his social ineptness.

"You needn't apologize." The prince turned in a half circle as he took in more details of the eclectic mash of things around him. "It's your space... I was simply hoping to discuss how we might find Rowan. Perhaps the same method you employed before?" Artus suggested, looking pointedly at the row of vacant boxes where he'd seen Lord Cullach's birds roost the previous night. He didn't want to suggest the marquis employ his other resources. At least not right away. He'd already overheard warnings...more than enough to suggest that magic was a sensitive subject for the marquis.

"Perhaps... but there's still the matter of where to look, and more importantly, are you prepared for what you might find?"

Artus paled, his flawless skin nearly matching Bhalthier's in complexion. "You mean to say if he's-" Clearing his throat, Artus stowed his feelings and locked his expression behind a mask of carefully poised indifference. "Yes. I am prepared...should that be the case."

Bhalthier paused and studied Artus for a long moment before crossing his arms and continuing. "There is also the possibility that he simply wishes to remain unfound. Have you...seen La'Trest after the attack? This wasn't an accident. The threat to your kingdom is still out there and looking for what you took."

"What I took?" Artus retorted sharply. Had Flann told Lord Cullach about the relic? His chest tightened, but he kept his chin held ever so slightly upward. "I can't imagine what the dragon that attacked our capital has to do with Rowan. Or with finding him."

"Let me rephrase, then... Is it more important to maybe find Rowan or to stop what happened at La'Trest from happening again?"

"I believe you may be mistaking my resources and capabilities, Lord Cullach. I can't fight a dragon. Nor would that be expected of me, but my friend is missing. And I do owe it to him and his family to find him."

"It's not the dragon you should be focused on, but his master who set him upon the city along with his undead and other foul minions." Bhalthier broke his posture and turned back towards his desk. "I've sent Eogan to search Geresto and Briac to Boreven... If Rowan is in either, we should know within a few days."

"His Master?" Artus echoed in disbelief. "Then...it wasn't because of the ceremony?"

"No, they were after the relic... If it had been at the ceremony, it's likely that they would have succeeded. I assume he wanted another dragon to add to his ranks."

"Who is he?" The prince's expression shifted into a mix of concern and apprehension. "And how did you come to possess this information?"

"I believe you already know the answer to one of those questions... For the other, perhaps it'd be easier to show you," Bhalthier said, holding out his hand, palm up, to Artus.

The younger man didn't recoil, but he also didn't immediately reach for Bhalthier's hand either. Instead, his own hands were at rest on his slender hips. "What are you going to do?" he asked, head tilting slightly to one side.

"My magic only works through physical contact. When I touch an object, I can see the history of that object. With animals and people, I can see and experience their thoughts and memories... The connection works both ways."

Artus began to reach for Bhalthier's hand, his curiosity getting the better of him, but stopped just short. "You'll be able to see my memories?" his eyes widened. "Did you already? When you tended to my cut?"

"I... Yes, though it was not my intention. Minds are complex things, but thoughts and feelings usually hang near the surface, and the ones that carry the most emotion are hard to overlook. It's not unlike listening... Some thoughts and feelings are just too loud to ignore."

Golden-hued eyes bore into the marquis for a few moments before Artus took a deep breath, glanced down, and took Bhalthier's hand.

The moment they touched, nothing seemed any different at first. Artus was still thinking the same thing he was a moment ago and still had the same questions, though he was hyper-aware of his own thoughts after what he'd been told.

Bhalthier could feel his excitement and apprehension as if it were his own and couldn't help the shadow of a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Now that the prince was aware of Bhalthier's abilities, there wasn't a single stray thought for him to explore. Artus had a strong mind, so Bhalthier felt less hesitant about what came next.

Within a blink, what Artus saw, or rather, thought about, was being back in his home. Only he saw his father facing the dark elven figure in the ballroom. The smell of smoke and the sound of terror heavy in the air. Artus's gut clenched. The necromancer wasn't nearly as imposing as a dragon or the reavers they saw in Malton, but the sight of him stirred a deeply unsettling fear in Artus. Before he could even admire how boldly his father stood in the face of the elf, the images were gone, swept away like dust.

In a whirlwind, the memories shifted, and now he was with the Serellian King and his guards as they picked their way through crowds of undead within the city. Artus's skin crawled. His heart raced. The next thing he knew, he was there the moment his father gave Bhalthier permission to use black magic to save him. The darkness in the room was as suffocatingly heavy as the presence of what felt like far too many people in far too small of a space.

Each memory was as if Artus had been the one to experience them, even though he knew that was impossible. Still, they felt so genuine. So close. So tangible. He needed to see more. To see his parents for a moment longer. He pushed against...he wasn't sure what... Pulled at strands of memories as they all too quickly began to unravel.

He saw his mother.

She didn't look well. Not ill, like his father had been, but worry and grief had transformed her. A swell of emotions overtook him. Artus knew they weren't his, but they were impossible to untangle from his own feelings in the moment. Anger. Regret. Shame.

The connection was severed, and Artus was abruptly aware once again of where he truly was... standing in Lord Cullach's study, empty-handed and staring wide-eyed at the marquis. "Let me see them again," he demanded breathlessly, advancing and cutting short the space between them.

"I can't!" Bhalthier snapped as he took a step back from the prince, only to find his own desk blocking him from further retreat. "That's all I saw of them..." he said, clearing his throat.

Artus frowned, his eyes pleading with Bhalthier. "Then can I just see that again? What you just showed me?" he rasped, his reserved facade wilting. "They're...they're both okay now. Right?" Guilt churned his stomach. He couldn't help but feel that if he hadn't taken the relic, then things could've happened differently. Perhaps his parents would have been spared what they'd instead been forced to endure. "You asked if I would rather prevent this from happening again... How would that even be possible? I don't even know where the relic is, and I can't fight a mage." He'd just witnessed how helpless their royal guards had been on the night of the festival.

"No... I don't suppose you can," Bhalthier said, disappointed in his tone. "...Once more. Then I really need to get back to work."