Chapter II.1 (23) – The King Is Dead

  (II)

  “-. .-“

  The relation between the monarchy and church was still undergoing a spectacular failure when I made it to Orsur’s home and got an all-new surprise.

  It seems that the reason my Valkyrie hadn’t come back was because her god wanted to give me his reaction in person.

  “Is it true?!” Blindi all but screamed in my face, grabbing me tight by the lapels before I’d even shut the gate behind me. “You know where he is?!

  I couldn’t help but feel bewildered. “Yes? I thought you knew? I was in your head, you didn’t let me go until you scoured my memories-”

  “I scoured the memories you offered, I do not mind-rape, which includes not taking advantage when a good and earnest soul has a moment of weakness! Especially when the boldest and kindest of mortal children leaves himself completely exposed and defenseless to total obliteration!”

  I couldn’t contain the sudden rush of fondness for the being in front of me.

  Blindi practically recoiled from my reaction, letting me go and lurching back. His face flashed from chagrin to apology and back almost too quick to catch, before his eyes seemed to sink into a wretched, terrible apathy. “Whatever your own experience when you visited me in my Hall, it was just that – yours, not mine. Now answer my question.”

  I sat with him on the bench where I practiced lightforging flowers. Then I told him all I recalled about Tyr’s fate, and what might have occurred after. I told him about Tyr’s fight with the C’thrax and his death. I told him about the disk that supposedly held his memories. I told him about my issues with the story too, especially that Tyr supposedly coded the disk to not be accessible except by all five dragon aspects working together. From what I saw of those events, I thought Tyr was lying, or more likely the events were completely made up. Either way, there was likely more than just memories in that disc.

  “More how?” Blindi demanded.

  “I saw Tyr’s entire body rebuilt anew, with only the driving will absent. It didn’t make total sense to me. If it really was just memories, they could have been accessed somehow at that point or before, even just by hijacking the new body’s brain or whatever the equivalent is, to retrieve whatever was useful of his knowledge. The Discs of Norgannon show that storage devices like those can be interfaced with by titan consoles. The process was a bit too neat too, and why would Tyr be the only one who has such a backup? A dedicated facility even, full of ancient Titansteel ingots forged by Aggramar himself, supposedly, and an automated machine that can just build new titan bodies from mere blueprints. I don’t buy it.”

  “And you shouldn’t,” Blindi grunted, rubbing his face with both hands, eyes shut tight. “Titansteel is special because you can’t work it without direct animus infusion from someone with the necessary skill and power. Same goes for the more involved functions of our machinery. It’s the same reason why one of us needs to actually interface with the Forge of Wills or Origination in order to get anything done with them. The War of the Ancients would have been a trifle if we could churn out whole armies with just the flip of a switch, never mind spare bodies for ourselves. Or clones! What else?”

  “According to Nozdormu, the Infinite Dragonflight doesn’t exist anymore so you don’t have to worry about Chrono-Lord Deios or whoever else stealing the memory disk and tossing it through a time vortex. You’ll have to take it to Uldorus in the dragon isles, though. To make the new body itself you’ll need the Silver Scale, an ingot of pure silver shaped like a dragon scale. It should be in Valdrakken-”

  “Sod the lizard den! I know where it is, but who cares? I make bodies for a living and Tyr is my twin brother! Who do you think his physician was during our eons-long war against the squids? The body he died in isn’t even the one he started with! Where is he?”

  “He’s at-“ No. No, not here, not now, not like this. “… You’ll have to come with me to find out.”

  Blindi’s face snapped in my direction with an indignant glare, but it fizzled out as quickly as everything else. He pressed his fingers hard against his eyes and gave a hollow laugh. “So that’s how it is.”

  I had no idea what ‘that’ was, and I didn’t bother to ask. “You could, of course, look back to that day and scour the memories I didn’t offer. Then you won’t need me at all.”

  “Fie on you, you don’t need to taunt me, I know my own worst impulses just fine. You’ll be glad to know I have no kindling for them either.”

  “No,” I denied him. “I’m not glad to hear that at all.”

  Blindi dropped his hand and curled his lip, clenching his fists on top of his knees. “Where is the disc?”

  “In Uldaman, in a secret wing.”

  “And where is this place?”

  Now I was the one who couldn’t help myself. “You don’t know that either?”

  “The whole reason why C'Thraxxi are so dangerous is because their masters constantly interfere with attempts to divine their actions. No one knows what commands they will give. They have potent shadow magic of their own as well, those who can discover and track them even while traveling alone are precious few. Of my vakyries, only Eyir and a handful of her handmaidens can recognize their obfuscation fields, never mind see or travel through them safely. That’s why I haven’t been able to locate Tyr’s resting place all this time. Archaedas is also more than competent at covering his tracks, including working without disturbing the surrounding area. I assume he built it underground?”

  “Yes.” I hesitated. “Ironaya and Archaedas are in stasis there, as are the troggs. The latter’s stasis system is failing, in the future that I saw the troggs awoke when the defenses were breached by dwarven and gnomish explorers. Then the things tunneled all the way into Gnomeragan and genocided the gnomes to less than a tenth of their total population. Be careful, whatever you do.”

  “I should be careful? Have you looked at me lately? I can’t go spelunking with this body!” Blindi sagged and looked morose and spent. “Tell me the location.”

  For this I was more than willing to welcome help. “It’s-“

  “Wait. No.” Odyn pinched his nose. “On second thought, you’re right. Don’t tell me that either, yet. Truths spoken aloud have a tendency of becoming easier to find, no matter how good the security. I’ll go there when you go there.”

  “Alright.” I almost thought I was being given a quest, but the feeling was different. Like I was the one the questing hero was waiting on, not the other way around.

  Neither of us said anything for a while. The more time passed, the more sad and wizened the man next to me felt.

  “Tyr’s resting place is where I’m going first.” It was the first time I’d voiced my new plans aloud. “Come with me.”

  It wasn’t an offer or request I’d make of anyone else, but I wasn’t one to let depressed people wallow in despair. Especially when I was the one responsible.

  “… You’re so much like him, you know?” Blindi finally said faintly, and I saw Odyn’s outline interposed over him face for a moment. His molten beard had been completely shorn off. No, not just shorn, ripped out at the root. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

  “If you have energy enough for wishful thinking, you’re already doing better than before. Imagine how much better it will be if you don’t just vanish on me this time.”

  “Enough. Drop the pretense, it ill suits you. You don’t need to nag, I’ll come along. I’ll be nothing but a burden like this, but if that’s what you want then I’ll come.”

  “Then I’m glad.”

  “You really are, aren’t you.”

  Further conversation was halted by the gate suddenly being smashed open by a kick, then immediately slammed back closed by the man who stormed in like an angry hurricane.

  “If I have to deal with those two treating me like their inferior in my own country one more time, I won’t be responsible for the consequences!” Richard had at some point gone from quietly indignant to absolutely livid. His wrath stalled upon noticing our unexpected guest. He took a slow breath. “Lord Odyn, greetings. Please forgive my display.”

  Blindi smiled crookedly. “I’m owed neither your deference nor decorum. I’m only the town drunk.”

  “I know well how much more than that you are, High One.”

  “I’m also trespassing.”

  “It shouldn’t take a god to recognize that, or the rights and honors it loses you.” Richard looked at me. “I’ve run out of excuses to stall them, and I think the Dalaran attaches are just about ready to drop their incognito act and do something extreme. If we’re going to somehow pre-empt them making even more of a mess, it has to be now.”

  “I assume they want it as soon as possible?”

  “Quite.”

  “What are their terms?”

  “A meeting on neutral ground. Enforced by Dalaran, because being the instigators of this entire farce doesn’t seem to be enough for them. I am apparently too compromised and not of high enough rank for them to accept my guarantees, though they were careful not to say so where I could hear. I only heard it because your little spirits keep using me for mind-talk practice.”

  “Oh is that all?”

  “They want an anti-magic field. Also something they were careful not to let me hear until they drove me to wit’s end.”

  “I see.” I exchanged a meaningful glance with Blindi, then looked at Richard seriously. “Tell them I’ll only agree if the Archbishop is there.”

  “In addition to my guards, I hope.”

  “No, keep them back with you, the plan goes forward as we discussed. Unless they want their neutral ground to be outside the city?”

  “They had the audacity to claim that it shouldn’t matter if it’s outside the walls, since it’s all Alterac soil and therefore still slanted in favor of us. Never mind that they’re all but besieging the city.”

  “That’s easy enough to solve – we’ll hold the talk where the castle used to be.”

  “… They have been making constant noise about that. It’s ghoulish, but they’ve earned worse. It pains me to give them what they want though.”

  “Believe me, Richard,” I said grimly, “I’ll more than make up for it.”

  “By thumbing their noses as you leave, yes. Don’t remind me.” The break in conversation was heavy and disquieting. “… It should still be you.”

  I agreed. There was much I could give the country and the world if I became king. I’d do better than Aiden Perenolde, at least. “You’ll do fine. I believe in you.”

  Richard wasn’t able to muster any answer to that.

  “Was Aedelas spirited away successfully?”

  “Yes, Ravenholdt sent word back with Emerentius. A trusted man, if there is such a thing with his sort, will take him to the appointed place, though I can’t fathom what you need to do so far east.”

  I watched the man, conflicted over letting him pick up the pieces. Again. I hadn’t told him any of what I was planning this time either. “If you ask it of me, I’ll tell you everything I plan. You’ve more than earned that much.”

  “… Will it put you at risk?”

  “Maybe not me, but what I hope to do, yes, and the people I mean to do it for.”

  “Truths spoken aloud become much easier to find,” Blindi murmured a repeat of his earlier words.

  “Then no.” Richard smiled mirthlessly. “I will endure, as before.”

  “If more people had your grit, people like me would be unnecessary.” I rose to my feet. “You go make the arrangements. I’m off to make my goodbyes.” I looked at Blindi. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Never mind that, Geirrvif will be back soon with a couple others, just send her with another message. Or she’ll fly to me herself if you come upon a zone of shadow. She might be strong enough to endure it, but that depends on how much weaker it will be. If it is, such things can linger a long time, even if they seem dead.”

  “It will be completely eradicated.”

  Blindi stared at me. Then he slowly nodded and left.

  I watched him go, then set about my last loose ends.

  Orsur was every bit as worried and outraged as Richard was, but there wasn’t much he could do. Or time to do it, he easily could have been away from home. He was extremely busy overseeing the logistics of food relief and repairs, and otherwise helping the rest of our guildmates to keep the city running. Under the circumstances, the Wheel Everturning had somehow ended up being the ones everyone went to for questions and answers.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I could only be relieved that the family from Tarren Mill were the only ones who pulled out, after everything was said and done.

  The meeting took place later that day, but only after more than expected resistance from the other side. They were concerned, justifiably in hindsight, that the place where the Enhaloing took place might serve me as some sort of place of power. That only made it more fit as a neutral ground though, considering what they had done to exert power. Not just on the way here, but now too.

  Which is to say, they didn’t agree until Richard consented to let them thoroughly secure the site, which Richard grudgingly agreed only on the condition that they come at it from the opposite side of the plateau. Where the castle and attached mountain once stood, there was now only an empty, flat, unwalled wedge.

  There were barricades facing that side, but they were hasty, flimsy things, some homes even faced those ways with missing walls where the castle wall used to be. If this were an official siege, the army of Lordaeron could be said to have successfully breached the defenses and taken control of an entire capital district, as well as the center of the city. Conquering the rest of the place would be a matter of manpower from this point on, which they had more of than General Hath and Richard combined.

  Not counting the army left at the border, or the men being assembled by Twinblades and her allies. None of whom would make it in time.

  Regardless, it was done.

  There was hostility. There was posturing. There were valid concerns. If not for the Archbishop’s moderating presence, I was sure they’d have tried to put me in chains. Liam Trollbane took point and practically treated it like a trial, with himself, Terenas and Alonsus as tribunal.

  Their behavior wasn’t ultimately unreasonable. All in all, it was set up like an international trial of peers, almost. What I imagined might have happened if someone other than me had slaughtered the Royal House of Alterac in a coup d’etat, only to be subsequently defeated in war by the country’s allied neighbours, at which point they’d put the usurper up on trial and restore the rightful bloodline to the throne.

  Said bloodline would be Trollbane, since all the Perenoldes would be gone, leaving the way free for them to assert their claim and finally annex the whole country since Alterac was originally their homeland. But everyone was pretending that wasn’t the case here, which was more than I expected. It was more than Richard got, even, in all this time of dealing with them.

  All I did was stand there. While Liam Trollbane read the list of accusations, I just stood there. While he made every reasonable denouncement in between demands for answers and guarantees, I just stood there. When the gathered crowd couldn’t be kept away even by the now revealed mages, I continued to stand there. I didn’t speak even when Thoras Trollbane requested to be recognized and asked me why I’d snubbed him before, when he came to my mountain at great personal risk to offer help.

  He knew why I’d done it. He came to my mountain as an infiltrator, and he stayed as an infiltrator even after the risk of discovery by Perenolde was no longer a concern. He’d only thrown out that question in an attempt to provoke a reaction.

  All but Alonsus Faol did their best to never directly meet my eyes. Both Liam and Thoras slipped several times despite their best efforts, but I didn’t take advantage.

  I did not treat under false pretenses then, and I wouldn’t now.

  Finally, finally, Terenas Menethil stood up and bid Liam Trollbane to settle down so he could speak.

  “Wayland Hywel.” He called me, and he did directly meet my eyes. “Or do you prefer Ferdinand Rogasian? Is this why you have chosen to ignore King Trollbane, because he did not address you by your Nome de Plume?”

  “Terenas Menethil.” Perhaps he was just playing his role in the good cop / bad cop routine, but I didn’t begrudge him that because he’d also spoken in good faith. It was surprising, but also the truth. Unfortunately, that didn’t make up for the unlawful and combative approach of everything else he’d done to come here, manipulated by Dalaran or not. “As one who has seen your future and your death, I have an advice and a warning.”

  I didn’t know who was more struck, him or the mob. “… That is not why we are here.”

  “It is only here and now that I offer. Decide.”

  Liam Trollbane looked fit to explode at how brazenly I’d upturned the conversation, but he didn’t interfere.

  I idly looked over the gathered throng while I waited. Dalaran had gotten their wish for an anti-magic dome, but it made no difference. My power dwelt inside me, far deeper than such constraints could reach. Perhaps last year it might have managed, but my spirit was too dense and robust now. I couldn’t push it out, but I didn’t need to. I merely needed to infuse the Light in the space I occupied, and channel it into one lone command.

  Arcane, heal thyself.

  My spirit, weak or not, could be restricted but no longer suppressed.

  At length, Terenas made his choice. “Speak, then.”

  “When you finally have your heir six years from now, don’t call him Arthas. Especially if ‘the very forests of Lordaeron whisper the name.’ The thing that dreams under those woods is nothing good.” I flexed my fingers, acting as if I didn’t register the many reactions to those claims. “It shouldn’t be an issue shortly, but who knows what else might try to get in my way?”

  “What do you-?“

  I shrunk to the size of a gnat mid-way through jumping directly up.

  I burst out the top of the anti-magic zone like a bullet and was gone with the wind before anyone could so much as flinch.

  “-. Terenas Menethil .-“

  Dalaran was either mistaken or they lied.

  It was a realization that Terenas had felt inexorably settling over his shoulders since even before the confession, but now it was undeniable.

  Before he could decide how to deal with it, however, the King of Lordaeron became uncomfortably aware of a knife pressing against his back.

  “What is this treachery?!” Liam erupted to Terenas’ left, where he had a knife at his back and another at his neck. Looking around, Terenas saw that Thoras had his own assassin at his back, while the soldiers they’d brough to secure the area were being rounded up by Richard Angevin’s many more numerous men. They were dressed in commoner’s clothes, and some in rags. He’d mixed them in with the crowd.

  From up on his high platform, Terenas looked northward and saw some of his army charging forward to relieve them. He didn’t know if he should let them or shout orders to stand down, to prevent the bloodbath that now seemed inevitable.

  He didn’t know what he was about to say, even as he opened his mouth, when a gigantic dragon seemingly made of gold swooped down from the sky to cut their path.

  There was no roar.

  Instead, a great wall of Light appeared ahead of the charge, stopping it dead.

  All noise steadily ceased.

  “Liam Trollbane.” The Duke of Hillsbrad said as he stepped in front of them. He gave the Archbishop a respectful nod, but when he turned to the two of them he looked almost ready to command murder. “On account of the agreement you made with General Hath, and because you kept to its letter if not its spirit, you may take your men and leave Alterac. General Hath is disarming your force as we speak, after which he will escort you back to the border, whereupon your arms and freedom will be returned. Then we will have peace.”

  “You do not have the-“ Trollbane’s words cut off when the knife pressed hard enough against his throat to almost draw blood.

  “The alternative is that I take you hostage to guarantee your son’s good behaviour. Then you can espouse on all your personal issues with me for the rest of your long and comfortable life.”

  “You gave guarantees, Angevin!” Thoras Trollbane shouted from his spot below. “How will the Light stay with you, if this is your honor?!”

  Richard ignored him, watching King Liam instead. “You’ve been remiss in your son’s education. Otherwise he’d know that honour is reserved for those who haven’t been part of a secret foreign conspiracy to interfere in my country’s succession, after sending your prince-son to sabotage the late royal house you’re so keen on defending now, all the while agitating the border through feints and other tricksome operations. He also seems to think he’s entitled to the protections of hospitality without it being accepted. Or offered.”

  Trollbane looked at Angevin with incandescent rage, but said nothing more.

  Angevin turned to him then. “Terenas Menethil.”

  Despite everything, Terenas couldn’t help but think that the duke looked so very young, but also brave and formidable. Everything Terenas dreamed to see an heir of his own. Dare he hope Rogasian’s claims of being a Prophet were-?

  “You saw fit to invade my country without bothering to declare war first. By your own country’s laws, you are outside the bounds of all principles of civilized warfare. I could have you publicly tortured and executed without trial, along with all your men, and no lawful charge could be laid at my feet.”

  “It was never an invasion, it was a relief mission, as I’ve told you repeatedly,” Terenas repeated himself for what felt like the hundredth time. “I was alerted to a major impending humanitarian crisis and responded as quickly as I could. The only reason I brought such a large armed force was in case I confirmed for myself that the situation here was truly untenable. I did not declare war for the same reason, I did not want to give legitimacy to what could well have been a mad usurper. If what happened here happened to my bloodline and country, I would hope Alterac would take the same steps on our behalf. As I’ve also told you repeatedly.”

  “On account of the manner in which you snuck in the Magocracy’s snakes, I cannot take you at your word.”

  “Take me at my actions then. Ask any of your people who we met on the way. My men aggrieved no one and captured no redoubts. Instead, we dispensed supplies and all other aid we could, which we brought in great surplus for precisely that purpose. No few of your own citizens even asked to join with us, even begged for asylum. Will you judge them liars as well? Traitors?”

  “The saboteurs, you mean. The ones that should be just about finished incapacitating your officers.”

  Terenas couldn’t understand what he’d just heard. That – surely, all those people – they couldn’t – men, women, even a child or two, barely in their thirteenth or fourteenth year. He looked back to the forcefield, and the great encampment beyond. He could see the disorder and – the charge! It had been too small, too few men now that he had time to think, barely organized-

  “I’m told it’s a paralytic. A slow-acting substance, ingested, but does nothing on its own until enough accumulates in the body, and a reactive compound is then introduced by air. Wisely, your men didn’t let the newcomers into any important places, but it only takes a handful contaminated ingredients per meal, and it’s easy to dump thankless tasks on the newest wretches. Nobody likes to peel potatoes for hours on end, after all.”

  Terenas stared at the man. He couldn’t process what he was hearing. Had he misjudged the man so completely? Was he a completely different creature than he thought, and he was only showing his true colors now? But he was supposed to have the Light, more so than almost any priest. “You – would use such foul means-“

  “The principle of distinction only applies to declared war, and you broke it first with the mages regardless.”

  It does, Terenas thought with a sick feeling. From his perspective I did all he accuses me of.

  He’d only agreed to it after great debate, and only because he’d known for months that the kingslayer had been declared an outlaw by King Perenolde months prior, which excluded him from such considerations. But it would make no difference to bring that up now. It made barely any sense at the time too, but all the other options and possibilities made even less.

  Terenas looked around and saw that the mages of Dalaran who’d misled him were in the very straits Angevin had just described. Terenas looked at the foodstuffs spread around the table and felt a knot form in his stomach. He flexed his toes and fingers. They didn’t betray him, and his balance was fine, he didn’t feel weak. Did that mean his security hadn’t been breached? Or was he left out of the plot deliberately?

  “Unlike King Trollbane, you will be my hostage for the next while. I can’t expect that an army several times bigger than my own will just abandon the siege on my city and leave my country without some manner of guarantee. When all your men are back where they belong, and a week has passed for each of my countrymen they might rape, kill, leave destitute or otherwise harm on the way out, then and only then will you be delivered back to your people. I hope you understand.”

  Terenas Menethil didn’t know who to curse first. Rogasian, Dalaran, Trollbane or himself.

  Angevin looked away from him then, clearly not needing his consent or cooperation. How like a king. “I apologize for this unseemly outcome, your holiness.”

  “Do not sell yourself short, this is nowhere near the disaster I left in Stormwind.” What was the Archbishop talking about? “That said, I think it’s best for all involved if I take my leave now. It is plain to me that I do not belong in or near any battle, averted or otherwise. I will content myself with preaching the words and deeds of those more worthy to be called heroes and saints than I.”

  The king watched the Archbishop leave. As did everyone else.

  Trollbane had some choice things to say about that too, but he could afford to since he hadn’t disgraced himself half as much as Terenas apparently had.

  Terenas Menethil took a deep breath, released it, and decided he would not be made a fool twice. He surrendered his forces and himself into custody.

  Contrary to his expectations, Angevin didn’t take charge of him himself. Instead, Terenas was remanded to the custody of Valea Twinblades, in her castle on the northern ramparts of the Alterac mountains.

  Some days later, plagued by doubts and shaken further by the news that had finally made it up from Stormwind, Terenas was looking out the window when a second Enhaloing occurred. Far to the west. And north.

  Somewhere in his own kingdom.

  It was insanity, but somehow not the greatest insanity because his captors didn’t seem surprised, or even alarmed. What was wrong with them? These people? This country?

  Despite it all, Richard Angevin was as good as his word. He delivered Terenas back to his country and his freedom just as he promised, not a day sooner and not a day later.

  There, finally, Terenas Menethil learned what had occurred.

  Ferdinand Rogasian had traveled to the heart of Tirisfal Glades to blow up a lake.

  A lake that was apparently Tyr’s grave.

  Tyr’s grave was real. Tyr was real. Tyr, the mythical father and deliverer of mankind, had died in mortal combat with some manner of hellish creature, after which he’d been buried by giants, in a tomb that later became a lake, as the crater left behind by the titanic struggle filled with water. A lake at the heart of Tirisfal Glades that no one had ever given enough of a glance to even mark on any of his maps. Tyr had died in Tirisfal Glades. Tirisfal. Tyr’s Fall.

  The tomb was completely gone now. Not a trace of it remained, it was gone along with the entire lake. Only a new, deeper crater was left behind, caked in a thick layer of dust. With time, the new basin would fill up with water again, faster now since the edge cut through the greater bed of a nearby stream. Also not marked on any of his maps.

  Perhaps the most galling thing was that this had all been known all the while by the keepers of the tomb in question, who were apparently a secret order of knights that predated Lordaeron’s entire history. They called themselves Tyr's Guard. Had called themselves. They’d been there, keeping watch over the tomb, since before Terenas’ country had existed. Since before even the Empire of Arathor had existed, an unbroken charge taken up by mankind after the last giants died off. Vrykul, they were called. The giants from whom humanity descended, however that worked.

  It was a preposterous story, one Terenas could barely bring himself to believe. He wouldn’t believe it, not when he had to take it at the word of just one single man, however old and wise-sounding and skilled in arms. The now former quartermaster of Tyr’s Guard, happily free of his charge on account of his mission being done, Tyr’s body having at long last been retrieved on dragonback to the resounding choir of holy angels.

  The monster had still been there as well, whatever it was, except not as dead as Tyr himself, thus went the story. So the Prophet used the legendary Strom'kar the Warbreaker – Thoradin’s long-lost sword – to finish carving its foul head into pieces. Because Thoradin had also found the tomb in his time, and nearly set the monster loose before sacrificing himself to drive his sword into its brain. Where it had waited ever since.

  Then Rogasian chopped the rest of the thing to pieces, swam back out to shore, erected an impenetrable forcefield by walking around the lake twelve times, then promptly blew the whole thing up. Because ‘it’s the only way to be sure.’ However he kept doing it.

  When Terenas finally made it back to Capital and laid down in his own bed for the first time in months, the same three thoughts kept chasing each other in his head.

  The first thought was that there was a boy out there, with impossible power and equally impossible nerve, charming dukes and peasants, slaying monsters and kings, and all but worshipped now by a peerless knightly order more ancient than the human race, who’d sworn themselves as his retainers unto death.

  The second thought was that a peerless knightly order more ancient than the human race had been operating in Lordaeron for the entirety of the country’s existence, and Terenas had never caught the slightest hint about it. It was impossible to imagine a more shameful failure of domestic governance. The next course was clear – he’ll have to set all foreign ambitions aside for the next decade or three, or however long it took until he actually had a handle on his own home country.

  His last thought before he blew out the candle was the most bloodcurdling. Of the five unbroken human dynasties that had existed until a bare two months ago, two were now dead. One to a demon, the other to the saint who’d come down from heaven to contend with said demon. Or so the Archbishop consented to tell him under utmost secrecy, when Terenas went to confront him over publishing the Confession.

  It took hours for him to fall asleep, his wife’s arms feeling like a dead weight over his neck.

  When you finally have your heir six years from now

  Six years. Six more years. Did that mean they just had to keep trying? Or was his wife barren and he’d need to set her aside? Would they manage to conceive, only for miscarriage to end her life? Would he be made a widower, and not even be allowed to mourn in peace because the king must have an heir no matter what?

  Sleep only came to him near dawn, but it gave no rest.

  The fear and the dread stayed with him, even in his dreams.