REYN

Days passed since his discovery of the fallen Naveerans and Fenrer drowning within the embrace of the gulf which birthed the first dawn. Outside his office window, the statue of Pyren stood at the tip of the cliffs with his hands outstretched to welcome the morrow. On the other side, his own ancestor, Kolis, who matched Pyren's position. Two pillars of Haneka, who stood side by side against all the odds. On shaky foundations, his father undid all the work from before. The relationship between Haneka and Naveera hung on a precipice.

And now... with an attack on a Storm Warden on our soil by Naveerans... what does this mean for us? He glared down at the trade document he meant to hand over to his diplomats, but peace slipped out of his grasp with the secret of Fenrer's condition. I know if words got out, I would have a situation on my hands. It's no secret that I extended this courtesy to the King of Naveera — and the raised eyebrows I got before. He folded the document and tied it with a ribbon. No, first, I need answers, and I won't get them while Fenrer is still not awake from his tribulations in the sea. He slipped his quill into the small holder and pressed his face into his hands. Sleepless nights left him offbalanced, and he lifted himself out of his own support when someone knocked on his door.

"Your Grace?" Jorun, one of his housecarls, mused. "Are you busy?"

I had hoped it would be Bryn with more news on Fenrer's condition. "No." Reyn got out of his chair to meet Jorun. "What's the report?"

"We've interred the Naveerans for safe-keeping as you asked," Jorun said with a hint of hesitation. The same hesitation whenever Naveerans were brought up in casual conversation between Hanekans.

Too much bad blood. Too much aggravation and hostility he had flimsily hoped to change for the better, with the Derelicts a consistent, relentless threat. "Good," Reyn said. "I don't intend to keep them interred here for long. Not until I get answers from Fenrer." He frowned. "I am to assume since you didn't mention it, Bryn has not seen a sizable change?"

Jorun winced then shook his head. "No, Your Grace. As far as I know, Fenrer Pyren remains in a suffocated slumber." His fists clenched, and Reyn knew the unease on his housecarl's mind long before it betrayed itself within his shaking hands.

Well... we never were a people known to be closed with our thoughts... for better or for worse. Reyn sighed. "You're dismissed then. If there's any issues that arise, bring them to me or Gustul. Thank you for making sure the Naveerans were interred without incident. It wouldn't do to treat their dead so callously."

Jorun scowled with apparent displeasure. "And what of Fenrer Pyren? If they were involved in what happened to him—"

"I will handle it, Jorun, but I understand your misgivings," Reyn said, cutting off the conversation. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions based on assumptions. Once Fenrer awakens, we'll have the facts from him. Until such time, we wait." He left his room, and tucked the trade parchment into his coat as Jorun gave him a quick head nod before departing down the corridor of dark stone. He trailed in the opposite direction, towards where he often found himself hovering when he found himself wracked with restlessness. The room Lord Soren once inhabited, and Fenrer Pyren rested inside without disruption.

As he came close, Gustul slipped out. "Oi, Reyn," he said in greeting.

Reyn frowned when he closed the door. "I'm surprised Bryn let you in."

"I'm a very convincing person," Gustul teased, but the laughter died fast on his older brother's tongue. "Fenrer looks like he's been through the Infernal Hells and back through the Echo Obscura." He folded his bulky arms. "You figure out what happened yet? I've noticed you've been completely enraptured by that strange glaive you found. Why not hand it to a runesmith or an artificer?"

"I don't want people to panic. Besides, I think Fenrer can tell me what it is with more accuracy than a runesmith or artificer."

Gustul raised an eyebrow. "Ah, because of the Naveerans you found decimated?" Reyn nodded and fell into the awkward silence between them. Gustul sighed then rubbed the back of his head with a nod at the door. "It seems like the Pyren's have been cursed since our father was on the throne." He leaned on the wall and tapped his boot against the stone. "Good news, though, Bryn told me Fenrer's past the immediate danger."

Relaxation fluttered through his skin. "Yes, that is good news, considering Bryn was worried Fenrer wouldn't even make it through a night."

Gustul smiled. "He is Soren's son... I had no doubt he wouldn't at least put up a fight."

Right. Reyn stood beside his brother and the weight of his choices kept him against the ground. "If the Ancients were kind, and our father was not a bloodthirsty tyrant... Lord Soren would still be with us." Hands on his sides, he grew smaller in the den of dragons, nothing more than a sniffing mouse seeking an escape from the jaws. "The Desecration left our people divided, and I have to guide them out of this shipwreck Father sailed us into." He sank to the floor, knelt against the weight of his kingdom. "What with Sungrove county closing its borders and cutting off lumber supplies and a food source..."

"Oh! You just reminded me." Gustul rifled through his own coat, and tugged out a thick letter. "Lady Valarma was sent this correspondence... by the people of Sungrove. From Wolford, specifically. She said she would've given it to you, but she needed to return to the Blackwater Pass." Reyn lurched when Gustul tossed it on top of his head, and he caught it with fumbled fingers. "I think it'll cheer you up in regards to that."

Reyn broke the magick seal with ease and slipped the letter into his hands. Letters jumbled, mixed, and sounded too similar in the Hanekan script. As he puzzled out the words on the page. He doubled back to check his comprehension of Sungrove's reply. Reyn stopped at the final words, and got off the ground to look deeper within the lines. "They'll... allow supplies to go through, but on a route of their choosing?"

Hope roared in his heart and he found a smile cracking his lips, but he scowled when Gustul ruffled his hair. "Told ya it'd make you feel better. Sometimes you just have to keep on moving. Now, I'm to take that as you of course, accept their conditions?" He held out his hand, and Reyn handed him back the letter of their promised stability. "With Lady Valarma as the intermediary, I'll be sure to spread the good word."

But it's only a single step. A single step to acknowledging the damage Father did. The horror those reavers caused on Sungrove with their pillaging and wanton destruction and the violation of some of its people. Reyn nodded at Gustul when he skipped past him for a man his size and berth. Making sure the Pyren's and all those people got proper funeral rites to find their rest. He found his smile once more, and wiped his brow of his weariness. Whatever comes next, I must keep Fenrer apprised. It was his home. He was the one who experienced that terror. Out of everyone... Out of everyone in this kingdom, it is he that needs the closure most of all. And because of that, I cannot allow myself to think that he will die.

Reyn stood guard at the door to Fenrer's room, trying not to nod off to the call of seagulls. He jolted out of his doze when the hinges creaked, and Bryn peaked out. "Your Grace?" they questioned. "You might want to come in. There's been a slight change."

He needed no other incentive to rush in from behind the court physician.

"Fenrer Pyren," Bryn hushed when the Storm Warden lifted himself off his pillows with a horrific shake when he raised his hand to stop Bryn's approach. "You're safe now."

Fenrer waved his hand in the air with an indiscernible mumble before doubling over and holding his other hand to hide the dull swirls of auric power. Sweat rolled off his brow and stuck to his shirt and the small strands of his hair. Bryn pushed a cup into his hands, though Fenrer didn't acknowledge either of them.

"Is he okay?"

Bryn shook his head. "He will be extremely confused for a while, Your Grace. If you were hoping for a discussion, I'm afraid you're not going to get a coherent one."

"Where am I?" Fenrer rasped and slipped his fingers down his nose with a sharp intake of breath. Tears slipped down his cheeks, adding to the clamminess of his skin.

"You're in the castle," Bryn whispered. "You still need rest, Pyren-don't overexert yourself." He bustled forward when Fenrer attempted to swing his legs out of the confines of the bed, putting both hands on his shoulders. "I strongly advise you to stay put for the time being and try to get some sleep."

"... need to talk to Yuven..."

One question was answered. Fenrer wasn't alone — which led more to the probability of a coordinated attack on the Storm Wardens. For the Anima? It would explain the Storm Wardens behaviour whenever someone asked questions about her. Like they were closing ranks to make sure no one got close enough to touch her. Reyn tipped his head at Fenrer when he stopped trying to leave the bed. "Fenrer?"

At the sound of his name, his gaze flicked to him. Reyn motioned for Bryn to step aside to take his place at Fenrer's bedside. "I just need to know one thing, and I will let you sleep for as long as you need," Reyn said. "Did you fall from the cliffs, or were you pushed?"

"Your Grace, he is barely coherent, if at all," Bryn's argument began. "Try not to agitate him—"

I just need one answer.

Fenrer closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into the lids. "Your Grace?"

"Yes." Reyn held out his arm when Fenrer swayed, causing the Storm Warden to strangle it instead, though Fenrer's shoulders visibly relaxed. "You are safe now. No harm will come to you here."

"I need to talk to Yuven..." he echoed through a hazy whisper.

"I know, Fenrer, but Yuven Traye is not here."

Fenrer pinched the bridge of his nose with a deepening scowl, and Reyn almost left the question unanswered at the sign of distress. Fenrer's grip tightened on his sleeve, and the Storm Warden trembled. "...slipped."

"You slipped?"

"Ice."

So... you were thrown off the cliff. Intentionally. Ancients forfend. Reyn slipped his arm out of Fenrer's hand when his grip slacked and Bryn bustled forward to push the cup to his lips. Fingers dug into his palms, he bowed to Bryn before leaving Fenrer's sickbed behind and giving him the peace he required and deserved. I have solved one issue, but now I have a larger problem at hand. If anyone finds out Naveerans may have caused the complete extinction of the Pyren's... I don't think I could stop the call for blood, for retribution. He stopped out in the corridor and doubt swallowed his throat into his own drowning tempest. Was I wrong to think we could work this out? Or are we as two kingdoms and cultures just so at odds that even a single trade deal is doomed to fall flat? Was I being naive? Reyn listened to the flickered flames within the sconces, then shook his head of his insecurity. No. Get all the facts... and then I'll know how to approach this further. I don't even know if King Laucan was involved in this...

Pressure bounced between his temples when he stumbled to his room for his own rest from days of toiling away at parchments trying to find answers and answer the woes of his people. Every report of a Derelict on the road. Every detail of a ravaged corpse found within the marshes. And here we are... still fighting among ourselves. He fell into his chair and returned his face to his hands. In a way... I get why the Storm Wardens have dismissed all politics. Their only service should be to the world. They take no higher order but their own. Right here, in my kingdom, one, possibly two Storm Wardens were attacked. One was nearly murdered. There was no accident in what happened to Fenrer. Reyn dug his knuckle into his mouth and bounced his leg against the leg of his desk. Rest escaped him when he grabbed the quill from the holder and a fresh parchment from the pile in the corner.

I'll know when Fenrer Pyren is well enough to give more of a response. Reyn smoothed out the crinkled paper and dipped his quill in the inkwell. For now, all I can do is damage control. I have no doubt something will slip and word will start, and then rumours... Reyn groaned. Last thing I need... last thing he needs.

He drew up a confirmation of Sungrove's ultimatum for reconnection. An easy enough acceptance he was able to give to the people still loyal to the Pyren's. It was their lands, they had the right to choose the path supplies took. I'm assuming it's around Goldwood and the center of Sungrove. Far away from the paths. I can work with Valarma... and maybe in the future we can rebuild Sungrove. He stopped at his own inky words. I wonder what changed their minds. Last time, they said in no uncertain terms they'd rather sup with Derelicts than talk to me.

"We went through there," Fenrer admitted, apprehension and pain writ plain on his face. "I see what you mean."

There was something he seemed to not want to discuss. Reyn signed off the document with the Kolis seal. I won't do anything without his permission. I just need to show the people of Sungrove I am not my father. He squeezed the quill, and it almost snapped in his fingers. Shadows loomed over his shoulders and berated his weakness. His lack of draconic fury. Lightning refused to answer his call until the final moments where he became the shadow hovering over the edge.

A request to acknowledge his existence.

And he swung the blade down on his father's exposed neck.

It left blood splattered across the stone and the final end of a civil war.

Was it truly justice for me to cut off his head? Or was it my own brand of vengeance?

Reyn let go of the quill.

People called out for justice, for reprieve from the torment the last king set upon them, as a sixteen turns old boy lifted the blade and cast a light into the dark. He fiddled with the feather and put the document to the side for Gustul to skim over at his inability to get words right in his mind and through his fingers.

He remembered the sound his father's head made when it rolled into the basket with a hard thunk, and his blade stuck into a broken knot of the wood.

He left it there.

A reminder. A resolution.

No, I was the one who sentenced him to die, I would not have someone else carry the decision by following it through.

Reyn left his work behind to sit on his bed underneath the window, where the sunlight streamed through the thick blinds. Rest.

He can't hurt me, or anyone else, anymore.