For a long time, silence stretched between the two men, a heavy, airless void filled only by the distant, rhythmic backdrop of instruments and the buzzing chatter of the court. To Alpheo, the lords and ladies might as well have been ants for all the relevance they held in that frozen moment.

There were only the victors of the field at that moment, staring at each other across a table stained with wine and grease. Doubt gripped Alpheo’s heart, a cold, sharp blade where once only the dull ache of weariness had stood.

Did you do it?

The question echoed against the inner walls of his mind, rattling his composure. He felt like a goat tethered before a tiger, seeing two roads branching before him: one promised death, the other a tenuous life. He had to choose. He tried to search the Kakunian’s face for any hint, any flicker of a lead, but Merelao’s eyes were deep wells of nothingness.

Somehow, Alpheo was aware that this was the most pivotal heartbeat of the entire conversation. The wrong answer would not just be a slight; it would be the moment he was deserted by his only ally. He tried to retreat into the fortress of his own mind, frantically weighing his options.

What is it that he wants to hear? The truth? Will he believe a lie? He could waste half the day and half the night circling those questions and still come away empty.

As such, the Prince of Yarzat did the only thing he could do when the shadows closed in. He closed his eyes and trusted his gut, praying it would not betray him now, after it had carried him through the fire.

"I did," Alpheo whispered.

Somewhere in the distance a harp missed its cord.

The reaction was instantaneous from the lord.

The chair he had been balancing on slammed down onto all four legs with a violent crack that seemed to silence the nearby instruments. He leaned across the table, his fingers digging into the wood so hard the joints turned white, his blonde hair falling over eyes depriving Alpheo from seeing what was held behind.

"Why?"

He hissed the word as if it were burning coal against his tongue.

The panic rose in Alpheo’s chest, clawing at his insides but he forced his features into a mask of iron. "You know the funny thing about history? Sometimes a small pebble is all it takes to trigger an avalanche," Alpheo said, watching the Kakunian blink. He took a shallow breath, the air tasting of wine and looming violence. "The Bastion. It was about to fall. During the siege, I had pigeons flying each day, and the reports were a nightmare. Water was rationed; unless the heavens opened, they had a week. The enemy was flinging rotting corpses over the walls, and one landed squarely in the well. People were puking and shitting themselves to death."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a ghost of a whisper. "The garrison was broken. Asag was incapacitated, and the lords were whispering about surrendering for safe passage. So, when I had your cousin in my grip, I had to decide. I made my choice."

"That is betrayal," Merelao said after a long, suffocating pause.

Alpheo did not flinch; he did not deny the stain.

"I apologize for the act, but I do not regret the result. We are talking about my blood. Had the Bastion fallen, nothing would have stopped them from devouring Yarzat. Before I have a duty to you, I have one to my son, my daughter, and my wife. Before I am a Prince, I am a father. There is nothing I wouldn’t burn to the ground to keep them safe.That is the thing about family , no?Sometimes they are your biggest strength and sometimes your biggest weakness"

The scowl on the Kakunian lord’s face flattened, the mention of family striking a resonant, if painful, chord. "Was it a hard choice?" he asked.

Alpheo shook his head slowly. "Not really."

Merelao sighed, a sound like wind through a barrow. "A dagger from a friend cuts deeper than the sword of a foe. We had terms, Fox."

"We did. And I broke them, because if I hadn’t, it would have been my home turned to cinders," Alpheo replied, his tone unapologetic and sharp as flint. He watched Merelao, searching for a sign, a flicker of understanding or a reach for a blade, but the man remained a statue of bruised pride.

"Varo warned me against you a dozen times. Told me you would play the traitor. And indeed you did," Merelao said, sipping from his cup, his eyes watching Alpheo over the rim. "I vouched for you every single time."

A pang of genuine guilt pierced Alpheo’s ribs, a rare sensation for a man of his trade. "If you give me the chance, I will atone for it."

"Trusting the same man twice is like reading a book a second time and expecting the ending to change," Merelao muttered. "I thought we shared a brotherhood born of being scorned by the world. I looked for a likeness in you, but I only found our differences."

"On that front, we agree. I have carved out a world of my own, and I would do anything to protect its borders. You rode for me, and for that, you have my eternal gratitude,but they are my family. I would press my sword into your guts to shield them.Because that is what a father ought to do. Even at the cost of everything that he is, will be, or was.One’s family always take precedence."

Merelao’s eyes went cold as a winter grave. "So who is to say you won’t do it next?"

"Nothing.’’ He answered ’’ Between us there is only the future. The battle we fought was for the right to exist," Alpheo said, his voice rising . "Sorza tried to ravish my land. I carved my name into the bodies of that horde to protect it. But more armies will come. More wars will launch. This one was fought on my soil; the next will be on yours."

He brushed a lock of black hair away from his eyes, his gaze locking onto Merelao’s. "The prince in that high tower saw his dreams go up in smoke, but he will raise another host from his restless lands. He wants to be king of all there is to rule. When they come, I want them to find only one thing."

He paused, the word hanging in the air like a death knell.

"Ash."

The two men locked eyes, the silence between them a blade. "If you take me, I swear on my family I will do anything I can to repay the debt I owe. Your uncle’s host will inevitably link with the Habadians and the Ezvanians. We broke the Oizenians today, but more enemies are gathering in the mist.

Whether you would have me stand alongside you is your choice, but know this: if you do, I will spare no resource until you have a crown of your own. You saved mine; it is only just I give you yours."

The Kakunian searched the Prince’s eyes, hunting for the familiar shimmer of duplicity.He blinked and held the answer to that search for his own.

"Trapped in a world of lies, we are. Perhaps the screams we let out on that field will be the only true thing that ever came of us.On that field of death we beheld each other, I do not extend friendship lightly, and that is why you have burned me so. We are lonely in our pains, and yet that shared agony was the truest thing I ever felt in all my life. You have a gift, son of the sword, that I cannot deny, you attract men who wish to kill you as much as shit attracts flies.

Luckily, the ones I wish to kill are the same who are coming for you." Merelao closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply as if the scent of the many pyres they had raised and the many more to come was a fine perfume.

A slow, wolfish smile wrung itself onto his lips, and Alpheo felt the cold knot of panic in his chest finally loosen.

He was saved.

"I will have you ride beside me, son of Yarzat,up to the Spires of my home. Up to the Towers of Habadia, up to the plains and rivers of Sharjaan. To all enemies we shall fight and bring fire, and once more you will have me at your shoulder, and you at mine.

But be warned. One more betrayal, one more lie, and your heart will beat no more. I shall pull it out myself to see if a man of your craft indeed possessed one.And no amount of excuses will pull you away from that fate" With that threat hanging in the air, he extended an open hand.

Alpheo took it without even thinking about it, palm brushing against palm in a grip of iron. Both knew that a demon clasping hands with a demon was a rare thing, and that a new kind of hell would be born from their union.

But it was their enemies that forced them to that unholy love.Alpheo would have lived in peace if he could, while Merelao was nothing but a man of war.

And yet the coin they would pay with, was the same.

Unfortunately that moment did not last long.

An heartbeat later it was shattered as the great oak doors of the hall swung open with a roar, as if struck by an avalanche waiting to roll on in the feasting chamber.

The music died in the throats of the flutes, and the laughter of the lords turned to stone. Four men marched onto the marble floor, and though armored they were, not armed.

The colours upon their breast revealed who they were, the elite who had walked through the fire at the behest of their prince.

One of them had a wolf cloak above him, another a fish embalzoned on his armor, another a fire and then a mountain.

Two of them swayed on their feet, their plate still dented and stained with the dried ichor of the Ford, yet they stood straight as lances upon the seat of their enemy’s power. They moved as one, as they reached the center of the hall, leaving behind them the whispers and the doubts of the lords around them.

They turned as one toward the high table where the Prince sat with the Kakunian, their hands still locked.

And then, with the heavy clack that signaled the true end of the old world, they all kneeled before the same man.