Gods, how he hated travelling through this wretched land, especially because it was always work and never leisure that brought him here. Even the weather seemed to agree with his dampened mood, with winds howling against the carriage windows with unnatural amounts of force. The rain that accompanied the storm was lashing incessantly against the glass, as if in hope someone would be stupid enough to let it in. The wheels banged when they went over a pothole in the uneven street, reminding everyone present of the rather unpleasant task ahead of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t like getting out of his palace, but rather the reason he was on the road in the first place. Of all the responsibilities the crown atop his head had bestowed upon him, travelling to these military strategy meetings he hated by far the most. Prince Ástilliar was sitting in the carriage, which was currently on its way to Rattenheim, a big city and a major base of operations for the armed forces of Valkorya, the neighbouring nation they had allied themselves with long ago. Allies. He scoffed under his breath and wondered if the term even held any meaning anymore. The Nine Kingdoms were all allies in a sense, all sworn to defend each other should any one be invaded by foreign powers, but that didn’t keep some of them from caving each other’s skulls in and calling it diplomacy afterward. One of his companions interrupted his self-pitying thoughts.

“Ughh…why do we have to go to this boring meeting again?”

Ástilliar let a low chuckle escape his lips; at least he wasn’t the only one who had no interest in meeting the ghastly individual that undoubtedly waited for their arrival. Before he could answer her, Akiri did it for him.

“Quit your moaning, Vora. You knew exactly what this day would be like, and you still insisted on coming with!”

Vora seemed to consider what she had told her but ultimately came to the conclusion that she wasn’t at fault, because of course she wasn’t.

“Oh, shut up, Akiri! Someone needs to protect the prince, right?”

Angered by the implication that she was unable to do it herself, she was about to lunge at Vora over Ástilliar, probably to strangle her, when he intervened. The young man raised his right hand, gloved as always in white leather, and at once, the seemingly endless bickering came to an abrupt halt. 

“My darlings, please do try to behave, would you not? I neither wish nor intend to nurse a headache before I have to meet that Valkoryan fool.”

Silence settled over the carriage after he had stopped the looming blood feud, but it was broken again by Akiri just a few minutes later.

“Do you think that idiot will be any less insufferable than last time, my prince?” 

She had been with him to these kinds of meetings a plethora of times since the war had started, not because she had any interest in the military campaigns of another nation whatsoever, but rather because she refused to let him travel this far without any guards, on principle.

“General Erich Totentanz, not being an insufferable halfwit? Statistically unlikely, I fear.”

In contrast to Akiri, it was Vora’s first time travelling alongside him to a different country, and she would have been much more excited if not for the fact they had been sitting in the tiny, cramped carriage for hours at this point. Why Ástilliar insisted on using Totentanz’s full military rank when he so clearly had no respect for the man whatsoever, especially here, where he was alone with them, was a mystery to Akiri and made even less sense to Vora, making both of his shadowy companions question how the hells he could be so cordial with someone so dreadful. Even if Vora was only going off the stories that the others had told her. As the younger shadow occupied herself by gazing out the window in search of something captivating, Akiri began to feel restless once more, yearning to engage in conversation instead of attempting to remain patient. Carefully, she leaned further onto his left side, and her head soon rested on his shoulder.

“What exactly is this meeting for again? You told me already, but I forgot.”

A blatant lie. She had memorised what he had told her about their mission, which had to be ages ago, and only looked for a way to entertain herself while also having an excuse to enjoy the sensation of bodily warmth she had lost centuries ago. Additionally, if she prompted him to explain their venture once again, maybe Vora would also finally memorise what this trip was about and why it was this important. Based on the smug look he gave her and the knowing smirk on his face, it was clear that she hadn’t fooled him with her display of ignorance at all. But when he saw that Vora seemed to listen in with at least half an ear, he explained it once more anyway.

“The meeting scheduled for today is merely about informing me about the situation at the frontline and coordinating their troops accordingly to keep worse from happening.”

The initial declaration of war and the immediately following attack surprised not only the Kalratothan leadership but also caught the soldiers standing guard at the border completely off guard, giving the Valkoryan army an unprecedented chance to advance deep into their land—almost 127 kilometres—before a defensive force could be gathered and a suitable counterattack had been mounted. Due to numerous strategic and logistical failures on the part of the Valkoryans, it didn’t take long for them to start losing ground again, with the frontline inching closer to the original border and transforming what could have been one of the greatest military achievements in human history into a pyrrhic failure, unless the course of history changed soon. The last time the prince had visited Rattenheim, the Valkoryan army had been pushed back about 36 kilometres from their latest line in enemy territory; the once-vast distance to their homeland had been reduced to less than half of their original push. Ástilliar had been telling his companions as much when a bored- and tired-sounding yawn interrupted him. Apparently, military strategy didn’t interest Vora nearly half as much as it did Voss.

“Forgive me, my dear. I had not realised I was boring you to tears,” he chuckled lightly, while Akiri tried to suppress a snort.

“No, no, it’s alright. Just a bit tir-. “Another great yawn cut her sentence short, making the others smile at Vora’s antics. 

The skyline of their destination loomed quietly in the distance, promising the end of their long and taxing journey. Ástilliar had travelled to many a city in his diplomatic pursuits and wasn’t particularly impressed by this one. Granted, there were cities much uglier than this one in the Nine Kingdoms, but the architectural style of their allies bored him with its dullness nonetheless. It screamed too much of efficiency and usefulness to really be considered beautiful. New Vyrethia, in contrast, had, much like the Vyrethian Empire of old, taken to their buildings being intricately detailed, making them look downright breathtaking occasionally. As they passed the first few houses located directly outside the big city, he found the designs of the Valkoryans to be very streamlined, always focused on achieving their needs as efficiently as possible; however, this focus led them to forsake anything even slightly impractical, resulting in architecture that appeared rather bland and primitive, in his opinion.

After not even half an hour of waiting, the carriage came to a stop, presumably for a guard to inspect their identification papers before waving them through the checkpoint. The weather had finally calmed down as well, it seemed, as he was now able to hear the horses' reins snap, signalling the animals to accelerate again. They arrived at their destination shortly after, the almost impressive-looking fortress towering over the rest of the city. In comparison to all similar buildings in his homeland, it was the simplest, bleakest, and blandest, though he might have been slightly biased on that front.

“A bit presumptuous, don’t you think? To name that fort ‘Victory’ when they lose one battle after another, I mean,” Akiri, who was inspecting the marker on the map he had brought, mumbled, half under her breath in case anyone else outside the carriage tried to listen to their conversation within.

Vora snorted almost violently and broke into a giggling fit soon after. Even though she had misinterpreted the name of the stronghold, she did kind of have a point, Ástilliar mused, and therefore didn’t correct her mistake, instead only chuckling lightly at their allies’ expense. The doors of their waggon were opened silently by the member of his flock which had driven them here, the shadow offering its hand to help them each out of the cramped space, respectively. Ástilliar thanked the shade, and it disappeared into thin smoke before merging with the prince’s shadow fully. The Valkoryan soldiers waiting to greet them didn’t look too pleased at what they were inviting into their home but managed to keep their emotions, predominantly fear and disgust, mostly to themselves. The highest-ranking of them stepped closer and saluted first, the way their doctrine demanded, followed shortly by his comrades.

“Welcome, your Highness,” the man, appearing to be in his mid-thirties, began speaking. “I am Konstantin von Seuchenhunger, the general’s newly appointed adjutant.”

Konstantin’s hair was well kept, short, and dark brown, while his eyes were a deep blue that sang of the oceans. His skin was relatively fair, and he had a polite, if nervous, expression on his face. Ástilliar hadn’t seen this man around here before at all, making him wonder how the man could have risen in the ranks from being basically a nobody to the personal adjutant of the highest-ranking general in the whole Valkoryan army in the span of merely a few months. Although his name suggested he was of noble heritage at the least, so maybe that had something to do with it. Valkorya had the unfortunate habit of promoting incompetent people to positions of power if they had enough influence, ineptitude be damned, which also coincidentally explained how they got into their catastrophic situation in the first place. If Ástilliar had learnt anything from this war, it was that the table in the conference room was clearly not the place for yes-men.

“Von Seuchenhunger, hmm. Charmed, I’m sure.” 

The prince decided to investigate how this man came to his rank himself, still unconvinced that the man before him wasn’t definitely lacking in ability.

“Pray tell, what happened to the man bearing that title before you? What was his name again?”

Akiri could almost taste the discomfort of the man standing before them when Ástilliar had asked his question. He cleared his throat before answering to appear more confident, but alas, his eyes betrayed his nervousness. Whatever Konstantin had imagined welcoming foreign royalty would be like, an investigation concerning his predecessor was most definitely not a part of it.

“His name was Frostauge. He jumped off the building’s roof two months ago.”

The adjutant finished his sentence with a heavy gulp. The prince appeared to contemplate the information he had received. Frostauge hadn’t really seemed the suicidal type to him, but then again, he hadn’t really spent much time with the man.

“Truly? How curious,” he merely replied, the faces of the soldiers blanching when they heard him.

The impatient energy emanating from his two companions reminded him why he travelled all the way to this wretched city in the first place. He let his one-eyed gaze sweep over the soldiers who had accompanied von Seuchenhunger, who, in turn, looked rather nervously at him and his entourage. None of them looked particularly pleased by the company he kept. They seemed to get especially unnerved when his black monocle fixated on them, almost as if they tried to shrink and shrivel away in fear when the dark disc pierced their forms. ‘Some soldiers they are’, Ástilliar thought. He felt a disturbance tugging at his consciousness from his left side. When he looked from the corner of his eyes, he saw Akiri getting restless. While Vora somewhat craved the spotlight and thrived whenever she had the chance to enjoy it, Akiri hated crowded places to an extent he hadn’t ever seen before, even more so if the majority of the people in said crowd had their eyes fixated on her, which in this case they partly did. She was uncomfortable; that much was apparent. He hit the pavement they were standing on with the bottom of his staff; the sharp, almost shrieking sound echoed loudly, making all of the soldiers fix their attention on him again. 

“Well then. We shan’t keep the general waiting longer, shall we?” 

The prince spoke with his usual calmness. Von Seuchenhunger sprang into action instantaneously, as if he had waited for anything to happen so he could finally resolve the awkward tension of their situation.

“Oh, of course, your Highness. Forgive me. I am not accustomed to welcoming royalty, much less foreign ones.”

“You don’t say,” Vora said, her tone sardonic. 

Akiri tried and failed badly to hide her snort, while the younger shadow giggled silently, even though the urge to openly laugh at the man was enticing. She didn’t because she had promised to be on her best behaviour for this trip. It was rather important after all – even if Vora couldn’t really recall what it was for. However, just because she hadn’t laughed in the man’s face didn’t mean she couldn’t entertain herself otherwise. Even Ástilliar found the growing unease of the Valkoryan rather amusing; however, he hid it much better, and his response to the nervous apology was more cordial, albeit still incredibly condescending.

“I assumed as much.”

His clipped response, complete with a menacing grin, made clear that he had little to no patience left for the man that, seemingly out of sheer incompetence, still hadn’t invited them in. Konstantin winced, not quite as inwardly as he would have liked, and made to oblige the prince’s request to finally be let in. When he had turned his back to them, Ástilliar mumbled to his shadows under his breath.

“Tuae menthys nor vorys.”

That broke his companions completely. The shadows erupted in heavy laughter, as neither of his companions had anticipated their shepherd making a remark in the old tongue at that moment. A lopsided smirk decorated his facial features, knowing he hadn’t only achieved calming Akiri fully down but also embarrassing the man that had them standing in the rain for multiple minutes. They were inside the fortress shortly after; its long corridors looked barren in comparison to their home. Efficiency lined the barren walls like banners, as if the building itself prepared for the ever-encroaching war, most of the already lacking ornaments having seemingly been scrapped out of sheer necessity. The only decorations that were present in the designs were a few stone statues in the form of knights, positioned every five metres in the hallway, leading to what Ástilliar knew to be the war room, where the general was undoubtedly waiting for them. Or rather, waiting for him, as the prince hadn’t exactly specified that he would indeed not be coming alone, which was in part why the welcoming party was so flabbergasted when three people stepped out of the carriage instead of only him. However, he was never truly alone – a fact that the Valkoryans definitely did not need to know. The two guards at the entrance opened the grand doors, but none dared to make eye contact with him. While the others waited for a signal to advance, Konstantin stepped into the room to announce their arrival.

“General, I present to you His Highness Ástilliar of Obscurir, Prince by blood and mandate, Crown of Vision!”

Von Seuchenhunger’s voice echoed through the doors. At least the man had learnt that it was considered very rude to announce someone in a language foreign to them, as they had no idea how they were introduced. Especially Akiri disliked not understanding what was said in her presence, because she often had no problem clocking what or who the conversation was about, even though she didn’t catch a word. The guards finally waved them onwards, and mere seconds later they were standing in a large conference room. A man in his late forties, wearing immaculate armour adorned by multiple medals and badges, stood up from his seat and bowed lightly in acknowledgement when he was a respectable distance away from him. The reaction of the others in the room was very different from the general’s. The adjutant had been nervous about meeting him from the start, but that anxiety was nothing compared to what the newer officers and guards felt, as they had only ever heard stories about him and his family line. They threw him fearful glances, with only a few daring to actually meet his gaze. The prince wasn’t really put off by it, as he knew his unusual appearance; his monocle more often than not prompted people’s nerves to fray even more than the plethora of titles that were bestowed upon him, and so he was more or less used to being eyed with suspicion. At least the shadows of the people in the room looked friendly; many of them were already present when he last visited, so they had no problem recognising him. The ones he hadn’t met yet either bowed or curtsied, without the humans still attached to them noticing. 

“Eure Hoheit, wie es mich freut, dass Ihr so kurzfristig meiner Einladung folgen konntet. Und sogar mit Überraschungsgästen! Ich hoffe, man hat Euch gut empfangen, hier in unserer bescheidener Heimat?“

His tone was painfully cordial; one could hear that he indeed did not like greeting anyone foreign into his home, least of all the company the prince had brought with him without telling anyone. An easily recognisable false smile decorated his features. ‘Bescheiden‘ was entirely too accurate, Ástilliar thought; this place did the name ‘Rattenheim‘ proud indeed.

“General Totentanz, the pleasure is entirely mine,” the prince replied with an ice-cold and condescending tone.

Vora never really understood the need for pretending high regard where decidedly none was, but alas, it wasn’t her place to judge her ringmaster. Akiri, still flanking Ástilliar’s left side, cautiously narrowed her eyes at the Valkoryan general, not appreciating that he spoke in a tongue foreign to her, as she could never discern whether he insulted the shepherd or not.

“Bitte, kommt doch herein. Kann ich Euch etwas anbieten, einen Tee vielleicht?“ 

Slowly, confusion settled in the royal's thoughts: he wondered why the general chose to address him in his own language instead of in Common, especially after Konstantin's introduction, which should have made it clear that not everyone present spoke it.

“You are capable of speaking Common, are you not?”

Erich hesitated briefly before slowly nodding once. The prince’s confusion transformed steadily into irritation for the man standing before him with an undeniably foolish expression. The general was by no means the smartest man he knew – he probably wasn’t even the smartest Valkoryan in the room, much less the whole of the building, but he was no complete idiot either. Years served under court intrigue had seen to that. In Ástilliar’s mind it was statistically unlikely that he didn’t know exactly what he was achieving by speaking his mother tongue rather than Common, effectively cutting both of his companions out of the conversation.

“Then we shall have further discussions held in common, for as long as I am accompanied by my chosen.”

His tone was calm but calculating, and everyone in the room knew he had not meant it as a request. Now, everyone present understood that if Totentanz wished to speak with him, he would need to address all of them, not just the prince. His chosen. A small smile found its way onto Akiri’s lips as she thought about the term. It was the name he had given her people to distinguish them from their ‘lesser’ brethren, those who hadn’t been quite there enough for the full-on resurrection he had bestowed upon her and Vora. A name much kinder and more considerate than the things she overheard other humans besides the shepherd say when they thought her not listening. After carefully considering for a few seconds, he forced a smile that showed he would rather not oblige the prince, but he switched to the common tongue anyway, finally including the shadows in their talks.

“Of course. Pardon my blunder.”

Ástilliar only nodded lightly in response, so as not to dignify his machinations with a true reply. The tension in the room was coming to a boiling point already, although they had just gotten here, much to the amusement of Vora, who found it most hilarious that the Valkoryans had to follow the ringmaster’s wishes to the letter, even though they clearly did not want to. Von Seuchenhunger, too, had to suppress a small smile; apparently Erich hadn’t treated his new adjutant too well, considering it took but a small act that could barely be counted as humiliating Totentanz to brighten the man’s day. The general seemed to also notice this, however, ending Konstantin’s good mood abruptly, as he stared daggers in his direction. After the tumult had somewhat settled, the prince wanted to finally start the talk he was dreading so much, not wanting to wait any longer.

“General, I seem to distinctly remember you sending for me. I am neither some dog you can call to heel, nor can I just be summoned at your leisure!” 

The harsh and cutting words Ástilliar spoke seemed to somewhat baffle the present officers and reminded Erich that their next ordinary meeting wasn’t scheduled for another two months, which, if he had to guess, greatly added to the royal’s irritation.

“Do you mind telling me why precisely it is that I am standing in your wretched war room instead of in my home, spending a much more pleasant evening with more important work?”

Totentanz didn’t seem too pleased at the wording the prince had chosen but started to speak nonetheless. He was still in hopes of circumventing the most pressing matters, disguising them as simpler and easier problems to solve, and with luck, the prince would give his authorisation without actually realising what had happened.

“I had merely thought that this day would be as good as any to confer with you, Highness. Nothing of importance has happened, really.”

Ástilliar clearly wasn’t convinced by the display that he put on, not necessarily only because Erich was a terrible actor, but more so because his lower-ranking officers had all blanched to a ridiculous degree when Totentanz had claimed nothing had happened, making him assume something terrible did indeed happen.

“Are you imploring me to believe nothing of significance happened to prompt your letter, General? It did not seem insignificant, did it, Akiri?"

The shadow answered instantaneously.

“No, Shepherd. It did not. In fact, I believe it spoke of ‘consequences of catastrophic measure’, should you fail to appear in this foul city at your earliest convenience.”

“Do not mistake my age for incompetence or naivety, general. Lie to me again, and it will be you who faces consequences.”

Ástilliar flashed his teeth with a menacing grin, amused at the unbelieving stare Totentanz gave his companion, who had memorised the letter in the first five hours of the journey, just to be certain she was well informed. Erich had to collect himself for a moment when he realised that the fools in the postal office had sent the wrong letter—not the polished final edition, but rather a crude first draft—before he came up with his ingenious scheme to achieve what he needed with deception. A scheme that he now, rather obviously, could throw to the wolves, as their guests were too well informed to be properly deceived. Electing to speak the truth now, instead of lying to one of the sons of their only ally in the military campaign, seemed to make more sense to him.

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll be blunt, Your Highness. I have called you here to speak with me about the ever-changing frontline of our war.”

‘Ever-changing,’, the young prince thought. ‘A rather optimistic view of the situation, considering it was only encroaching, these last few months.’ 

“Ah yes, I seem to remember you having advanced almost 130 kilometres into Kalratothan territory, at record speeds, may I add, before you encountered problems with supplying your troops. General, the enemy pushed your army back, what, 74 kilometres these past few months, even though we had sent you an expeditionary force to support you in your efforts?”

A condescending look of superiority decorated his face, satisfied that Totentanz, for once, seemed speechless. He had not anticipated having the entirety of his military genius concerning this campaign listed off, only for it to be torn down again instantly, much less in front of, gods forbid by foreign royalty.

“Your memory of this endeavour is commendable, Your Highness.”

Totentanz was by no means bad at speaking Common, but his extremely thick and distinctly Valkoryan accent sometimes still made it difficult to understand him without issue.

“Commendable is only your ability to lose your advantage this quickly. You advanced too fast, and your supplies couldn’t reach your soldiers in time. How you overreached this much, in such a short amount of time, will fascinate the minds of the greatest military strategists for decades to come, General.”

The man in question bit himself on his tongue so as to not say something devastatingly aggravating, while one of the children of New Vyrethia stood just beside him. Erich withheld what he wanted to express to the Prince and his cursed entourage: that he was not at fault and had always obeyed orders.  However, he ultimately decided against expressing this, as it would likely be dismissed as an excuse, even though he would have been speaking only the truth. Granted, he himself was responsible for the first push deep into enemy territory, but it wasn’t him that had tasted blood then, not him who, blinded by the first successes of the army and obsessed with taking evermore land, insisted on advancing with reckless abandon, whatever the supply reports suggested or the higher-ranking officers, like himself, recommended. A small snicker could be heard coming from Akiri’s mouth, who seemed to be enjoying this conversation far more than she had anticipated, the sound pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Well then, General Totentanz. You wanted to speak with me about the predicament at the front, so pray tell. What is the state of the frontlines? Surely the last lot of soldiers and mercenaries we sent you helped to stabilise your plight?”

Totentanz looked away too sharply, his gaze fixed intently on one of the many maps lying on the great table. Ástilliar was about to repeat his question and was starting to get irritated again when Totentanz interrupted him.

“Your last batch of men proved ineffective. The enemy pushed us beyond our original borders last week, and it doesn’t look like they’ll be stopping anytime soon.”

The Vyrethian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The implications of what the man in front of him had said were too frightening to comprehend fully. Things slowly clicked into place, like pieces of a puzzle for the prince. That was the reason why the other officers had blanched so completely when the general claimed nothing of importance had happened. They were losing. They were not merely losing the land they had previously occupied, but they were also losing the war they had initiated, and their loss was happening much more rapidly than anyone could have anticipated.

“How in the thirteen hells did you manage to lose more than 53 kilometres of territory in the last month?” Were your soldiers not taught that there is more to warfare than the aggressive taking of land that isn’t theirs?”

Totentanz’s answer was firm, obviously angered at Ástilliar’s choice of words that spoke of Valkoryanin competence, or rather the lack thereof.

"These insults are beneath you, Your Highness," Totentanz hissed, evidently displeased that the prince could choose to talk to him in such a dismissive tone, without him being able to do anything about it. The prince smiled at Erich's obvious wrath that he kept barely at bay and merely replied in an icy tone:

"As are you, General. You would do well to remember that."

That was the last straw, prompting Totentanz's temper to flare up again.

“It’s the fault of those good-for-nothing idiots, who die a disgraceful death the first day they arrive on the battlefield!”

The prince felt disgusted by the general’s crude statement. ‘What an appalling thing to say,’ the younger man thought, and his chosen seemed to share in that sentiment, as indicated by their expressions. How a man of Totentanz’s station could have opinions so shameful about the thousands of men willing to die for their nation and leader baffled Ástilliar and unsettled him deeply. Yet, at the same time, it angered him to think about the prospect of so many young men dying for something so pointless, like the blood feud the Valkoryans had going on with Kalratoth. The Prince interrupted him before he could make another inappropriate remark about the dead soldiers.

“Careful, General. Honour your fallen, lest I do it for you.”

His voice, cold as ice and threatening, betrayed his emotions, showing just how little he cared for Erich’s opinion on the matter of deceased warriors. It wasn’t Akiri’s first time guarding Ástilliar while visiting Rattenheim, but each time she was surprised at how incredibly stupid leadership was here. Insulting the dead in the Shepherd’s presence was almost as brave as it was foolish, and it angered the living shadow personally, seeing as, in her opinion, she wasn’t much different than the soldiers Totentanz had offended. She, too, had fallen back then but had had simply enough fortune to be saved by the young prince, who is currently standing not even two metres beside her. Ástilliar took a deep breath, to calm himself again; the headache that had been growing since the journey in the carriage was now plaguing him with its full force.

“That the situation of your armed forces is deteriorating this fast is regrettable indeed, but what would you have me do, General? Why am I still here?”

He was fairly certain that he already knew the answer to that question, but he asked anyway, hoping that the general was not as naïve as his military prowess suggested. Totentanz cleared his throat, the fact that he didn’t like asking for help repeatedly, especially from him, obvious. His ego was bruised enough already, given that he more often than not needed to follow Ástilliar’s instructions, per royal command, and if he didn’t want the Kalratothans advancing any further.

“Your Highness, I was told to ask you for more reinforcements to ensure the safe retreat of our remaining troops.”

“More reinforcements? How many have you lost since my last visit, General?”

Erich ground his teeth before answering; apparently the answer was too unpleasant to speak freely. That alone bothered the prince more than he cared to express. The general pointed to a name on the map, marked in deep red. A major city the Valkoryans had taken early with little to no casualties, making the commanding officers surprised at the lack of resistance, which of course would not keep them from lavishly celebrating their victory.

“Our battalions have suffered significant losses at Korovgrad; the big bridge on the outskirts of the city, which we had planned to use as the route of retreat, was rigged to collapse. The following fights, after our forces were encircled, almost wiped out a full army group; only a few survivors had managed to swim across the river without being caught."

A full army group. Lost in but one city. The number of fallen soldiers had to be staggering. Ástilliar was comparatively rather new to the machinations of warfare, but he knew the army of their allies had only consisted of six full groups at the start of their campaign, and that was before they were locked in bloody all-out war for now almost one and a half years. He would rather not imagine just how many bodies, enemy and ally alike, had to be piled up in that city, Totentanz had mentioned, Krovograd. It was then when he realised the predicament of their situation.

“General, we cannot send any more reinforcements. Mercenary or otherwise, if we were to send just one more, we would be in breach of the law. We have already dispatched as many as we are allowed to as per the ‘Accord of Silent Banners’. If we were to exceed this limit, we wouldn’t just break official law; we would openly declare war!”

The news hit Totentanz with the devastating force of a carriage. If New Vyrethia had indeed sent as many soldiers as they legally could to their effort, then the Valkoryan army would soon collapse fully, even faster than previously feared. Erich hadn’t counted how many soldiers had come to the frontlines under the prince’s banner and had instead simply relied on Obscurir’s continued assistance. 

“What? Already?” He began to feel terrified about what this could mean for his homeland and, consequently, for his position of power.

“Verdammt! How could I possibly convey this to His Majesty? I promised him that the next generation would save us, once they’re old enough! And now you’re telling me we don’t even have enough time left for that?”

Ástilliar was sick to the stomach to think that soon soldiers younger than himself would be dying in the trenches for fools like the one standing before him—fools who neither respected them in life nor honoured them in death. Thrown carelessly into the bottomless pit that was the Valkoryan war machine
which would grind thousands of young souls into dust mercilessly, never even to be remembered. The notion that maybe it would be for the better if they lost and the Kalrathothans won this war crossed his mind briefly, but he banished it from his thoughts in an instant. Even if that were the case, they needed Valkorya strong enough for his lord father's plans to flourish. He didn’t know much about waging open war, much less about turning the tide of an impending invasion, but he knew that there weren’t many things in either his or Totentanz’s power to change the outcome of the conflict without resorting to diplomacy. Which in itself wouldn’t have been problematic if it weren’t for the fact that the Valkoryans weren’t politicians with silver tongues but rather warriors with steel swords. The 'political' discussions between them and their Kalrathotan counterparts, who were diplomats of the Tsar, often devolved into both sides hurling insults at each other in their native languages, which the other side frequently did not understand, rendering the entire endeavour rather pointless. Ástilliar steeled his resolve, preparing for their conversation to soon get even more unpleasant than it already was, if that was even possible.

“General, I might have the solution to all your problems, but you will most certainly not like to hear it.”

Totentanz looked like the prince had spontaneously grown a second head but enquired what that meant nonetheless.

The conversation had dragged on for what felt like hours at this point. Akiri was by no means the most patient of Ástilliar’s flock – he’d often teasingly argue that she had no patience whatsoever, but that was nothing in comparison to Vora. Where Akiri could endure silent waiting when her Shepherd required it of her, the younger shadow craved movement. Desperately so. In Vora’s defence, she had tried to pay attention to what the general blathered on and on about, but she had decided to cease her futile efforts when she almost fell asleep while standing as he spoke of unexciting things like blood or honour. She needed distraction, and very soon, if she didn’t want to collapse, exhausted from having to hear what had to be the most boring discussion in human history. The shadow let her gaze sweep through the wide room and ultimately ended up with her eyes on a gorgeous relief that decorated the eastern wall, pointing to the Valkoryan capital they had passed on their travels. It depicted a major battle that had taken place, although she couldn’t quite remember which one, as there had been quite a lot of those, after all. It spanned the whole width of the wall, and the people on it were almost life-sized. She spotted multiple horses, either trampling unfortunate souls into the bloody mud or charging into the fray, ready for all-out war. The performer wanted to get closer, to get herself a better look, and escape the tedious amount of talking her ringmaster and Totentanz were still doing. How anyone could talk so much about such boring things was beyond her. Silently, Vora took one step back, then another, and then two more. She couldn’t believe her luck, that she had actually managed to get away without alerting any of the present humans, engaged in the discussion or otherwise. Though she had forgotten something, or rather someone. Someone was looking right at her, with their right eyebrow raised in suspicion and arms crossed in anticipation. Akiri had, because Vora was herself, expected that she would sooner or later do either something either terribly chaotic or incredibly stupid; if push came to shove, maybe even both. Her piercing blue eyes were intently following her every move and questioning her motives. After clocking the general as no threat to Ástilliar’s wellbeing and making sure she didn’t alarm anyone, Akiri followed the entertainer, her body moving silently and gracile. Every step was designed to make not even the slightest of sounds; the only thing that could be heard was the faint creaks of the form-fitting leather she wore. After a few quiet strides, she stood beside the smaller shadow, which had seemingly taken to admiring the relief depicting the Valkoryan civil war that had taken place a few decades ago. The Shepherd had told her once about it, had told her about the brutal last stand that had taken place in the capital after the revolutionaries had taken control of the palace.

“Where do you think you’re going, Vora?”

Her tone was soft and somehow still questioning, the intent clear. To end any and all diplomatic catastrophes Vora could cause, preferably before they blew up in their faces. Her answer was beyond simple.

“Up,” she told her while staring intently at the ceiling.

Akiri looked up, misunderstanding her words as a request to gaze at the high heavens instead of indicating her destination. Only when she started to scale the relief unceremoniously did she realise her mistake.

“Vora, what the hells are you doing? Get down here at once!”

Akiri’s tone was hissing; she was trying to sound menacing while not disturbing the discussion between her prince and the rat in armour, which seemed to grow more agitated and heated by the second. The shadow on the wall answered in the form of an exasperated sigh and a devastating eye roll, which Akiri did not see but could decidedly feel. Vora turned her head and saw her standing below, her arms crossed again. She made a short pause while clinging to the head of a stone horse so she could speak more easily with her.

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, sister!”

She stuck her tongue out for a few seconds and giggled at the slightly offended face Akiri pulled and began ascending further up the relief. A ‘killjoy’. She wasn’t being a killjoy; she was merely the responsible one, Akiri was certain. Ástilliar would definitely be proud of her for trying to keep the peace, surely. Vora, meanwhile, was almost at the top of the wall and had already calculated what angle she needed to jump from in order to reach one of the shiny chandeliers that dangled over the heads of the ground-dwellers. 

“Vora, stop it!”

The quiet voice coming from the ground sounded just a trifle panicked now. Only a playful reply did she send back. “Make me, sister!” She only sent back a playful reply.

“Make me, sister!”

Her quipping tone dared Akiri to come up and get her down herself, which she didn’t find a necessarily enticing idea. Not at all, in fact; much to dampen Vora’s hopeful mood. Taking her silence for a square ‘no’ for an answer, she prepared for the jump. She could hear the familiar nervous voice in her head, exactly like she had a thousand times back then in the tent.

‘Hep!’

Her answer came instantaneously, without her having to even think about it.

“Ha!”

She lunged at the ceiling fixture with all the might her body could muster. Time seemed to slow down, almost coming to a halt as the blood in Akiri’s veins froze while Vora was in midair. Only when the performer landed successfully on her target did the older shadow let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Relief flooded her senses as she gratefully thought all catastrophe averted. A few metres above her head, Vora looked down at the assassin, wearing the most smug expression Akiri had ever seen. The entertainer’s victorious look and the respite her sister had felt didn’t last long, however, before crumbling to dust. The chandelier Vora had, in her endless wisdom, chosen to pounce on slowly but surely succumbed to the additional strain her presence put on it. The iron chain rattled and groaned, fine debris and dust falling from the ceiling into her hair and face, almost making her violently sneeze. One last growl came from the iron that held the overhead fixture in its place before the delicate chain snapped, sending the ornate iron ring of candles and glass decorations plunging downwards. Its rapid downfall would have taken Vora with it, if not for the fact that she had gripped the still-hanging stem with all her strength.

“…furthermore insinuating the sheer uselessness of this campaign, dare I say—“

Ástilliar’s unbridled speech was interrupted by the chandelier that came crashing down, not even five metres from where he and Totentanz were standing, with the force and fury of the gods. When it hit the desk, both it and the wood of the once-sturdy oak table shattered violently into a thousand fragments of glass shards that went flying in every direction at completely inane speeds. Von Seuchenhunger sprung into action, lunging at the general and toppling him to the ground to save him from the sharp glassy daggers. All of the other present officers shielded their faces and fell to the ground with surprised yells. The young prince didn’t jump for cover, as he knew better than to be frightened. A singular second before he would have gotten eviscerated by the deadly hail, his flock burst forth from his shadow, dark faceless shapes with faint and blurry outlines, blocking the glass shards that otherwise would have cut deeply into his flesh. Ástilliar, who had not moved an inch and appeared entirely too unfazed by what had transpired, fixed his cold one-eyed gaze on the two Valkoryans lying before him, who were staring at him in unbelieving awe. Just as quickly as his flock sprang forth to save him, they vanished into his own shadow once the danger had passed. Slowly, the room returned to normal; the officers who had thrown themselves to the ground in hopes of avoiding stray chandelier pieces looked terrified of the prince and the display of unholy power that had occurred, with the sight of the three dozen or so shadowy creatures that had exploded from his form forever burned into their memories, never to be forgotten. Totentanz and his adjutant scrambled to get to their feet as fast as they could, not wanting to appear weak before their military ally.

Both Ástilliar and the general heard a small sound from above, prompting them to slowly turn their heads to the ceiling, only for their gaze to spy Vora, her eyes pressed shut and clinging onto what appeared to be the remains of the chandelier for dear life. The Vyrethian could make out a defeated-sounding sigh coming from not far behind him and rightly assumed it was Akiri, who had tried to salvage the situation but had now finally had enough. He would have almost laughed at the hilarity of the situation if not for the fact that the piece of iron that Vora was clutching, still lodged into the ceiling, seemed to slowly loosen. The shepherd, after handing his staff off to Akiri, took a few steps closer to Totentanz, cautious not to step into the mess, until he stood exactly under the small shadow, in case she ended up falling.

“Vora, darling. Be so kind as to come down here, won’t you?”

His voice was laced with concern for the performer, trying to assess how long she had left before she fell down, uncontrolled. The shadow in question pried one eye open and looked downward to locate where his voice came from. The first thing her amber gaze fixed on was her ringmaster standing below her, his arms outstretched as if welcoming her down. Vora took a deep breath and let go. She fell for what felt too long, even though she knew it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, before landing squarely into the prince’s arms. Ástilliar snaked his arms around her body to ensure he was holding her securely, not willing to risk her dropping onto the ground that was littered with glass shards and still-hot wax.

Gods, there were really no words to describe how content Vora felt being cradled like a newborn; it was just too comfortable. It also provided the not insignificant benefit of not having to walk herself, which she greatly appreciated. To say the general’s eyes were huge would have been the understatement of the century. Emotions battled within them for dominance, fear and shock at the earlier display of dark might, sheer confusion and utter awe at how the prince had caught his companion so easily, as if he had done so at least a hundred times before. The guards and officers looked flabbergasted at the woman that had literally fallen out of the sky. Especially Totentanz looked completely shook, his mind having apparently stopped to comprehend everything that had happened in the last five minutes of chaos. Ástilliar and Vora stood maybe half a metre away from Erich, who, in his stupor, hadn’t moved since standing up. Before anyone could stop her, she reached with her right hand, trying to touch the man standing before her. Not because she had any valid reason to do so whatsoever, but simply because she could. His fault for standing in range, really.

“Boop,” Vora chimed brightly, after placing her index finger squarely on the general’s nose, where it rested for barely more than a moment before Totentanz jerked back violently, nearly doubling over a chair in the process, as he recoiled in horror.

“AH! Keep that thing away from me!” He yelled loudly as he cradled his nose, as if it was about to turn to dust merely by being in the presence of Vora’s finger for a whole two seconds.

The shadows winced at the cruelty of his harsh words. ‘Thing.’ That had hit closer to home than it had any right to. Akiri could barely keep her composure and was maybe a second away from insulting the general’s full bloodline before her eyes found him. Ástilliar looked positively terrifying. His exterior, still calm, was accompanied by a malicious gleam in his visible eye, and a menacing smile decorated his features. It was then when Akiri realised she would not need to interject on Vora’s behalf; the Shepherd would take care of that himself. The prince spoke very slowly, as if to make it easier for the general to understand. His voice was deeper than usual, almost gravelly in tone but rather quiet as he tried to keep his temper in check, not willing to explain to his father why he had left Rattenheim a smoking heap of ruins.

"You listen to me, Totentanz, and you listen well."

The general went beyond pale, his skin tone almost rivalling the one of the prince himself. Never before had Ástilliar addressed him without using his proper rank.

“I shall say this precisely once, so be sure to not forget it.”

He had taken two steps toward him and was now but a metre away from the man; Vora still clutched to his chest. His words turned absolutely venomous.

“Should you ever feel the urge to insult one of my Flock again, I strongly implore you to keep your forked tongue silent. Lest I sever it from your throat personally!”

Totentanz and his adjutant cowered in fear before the Vyrethian prince, terrified by him and his shadow that not only seemed to loom threateningly over his shoulder but had also taken on a deeper black colour. While the general pleaded ignorance and begged for mercy, Akiri admired the Shepherd’s way with words. Seldom had she seen him so furious, even if the cold and calculating tone didn’t convey his full wrath. It was comforting to know he protected his flock just like they protected him – never with a second of questioning or doubt, always ready to use force if needed. The sound of his voice tore her from her thoughts.

“Now! If I am right,” Ástilliar began, his tone still icy but not laced with venom anymore. 

“Which he always is!” His chosen added, making the prince smile, if very slightly. Then he continued.

“Then there is only one more matter to discuss. General, you shall tell the leader of your crippled country that you cannot win these pointless wars if prolonged any longer. You have relied on our strength enough, as is.”

Totentanz looked slightly taken aback by this.

"But, but, Your Highness! May I remind you that His Majesty the Kaiser was ordained by the gods, the same that have given him the holy mission to force the Kalratothans to their knees so that our nation may be blessed?”

Akiri rolled her eyes. How could one man be so obsessed with a kingdom that wasn’t even his to rule? Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud yawn coming from the shadow still resting in the prince’s arms, slowly burrowing deeper into his secure hold.

“Ordained by the gods as he might be, he cannot win these wars without our direct support indefinitely. If he wishes to rule over a kingdom of ash, then he had better do it!”

Totentanz was mortified by the news that he was supposed to bring to his ruler, but he knew the truth too – without Obscurir’s continued support, Valkorya would soon crumble under the heavy toll of the war. He wanted to say something, anything to make him reconsider, but it was of no use. Just as he had begun trying to argue his case, Ástilliar interrupted him.

“Sie würden gut daran tun, Neu Vyrethia’s Hilfsbereitschaft nicht für Schwäche zu missverstehen, Herr General. Hochmut wird Ihren geliebten Kaiser auch nicht retten.“

Akiri didn’t understand a thing, but the general’s expression didn’t leave much room for imagination anyway. The Shepherd’s tone when he said ‘Kaiser’ made absolutely no effort to hide how he thought about the man leading their neighbouring country into ruin. Totentanz looked as if the prince had hunted down his ego personally and murdered it in cold blood afterwards. She heard a light snoring coming from Vora, still bundled up against him, who had fought bravely against her drowsiness after the adrenaline had left her but ultimately lost. Akiri had to stifle a laugh at the grimace the general pulled. Ástilliar looked briefly down at the shadow purring in his arms, the warmth his eyes held gone, erased and replaced by something cold and indifferent, as soon as he fixed his gaze on Totentanz again. His eye pierced the man standing before him intently, making the general audibly gulp.

“Ich werde meinem Lord Vater von Valkoryas Wunsch nach Frieden in den Neun Königreichen berichten. Selbiges würde ich Ihnen bei Ihrem Kaiser empfehlen.“

He was aware that his tone was mocking him. Though the cruellest and most aggravating thing was that Totentanz could do nothing about it, other than bowing his head ever so slightly to signify his, if reluctant, compliance. Ástilliar seemed at least somewhat appeased by the prospect of stopping the senseless bloodshed that had plagued the kingdoms for what felt like years at this point.

“Wir sind hier fertig. Herr General.“

Erich saluted like the Valkoryans did, looking almost relieved that the prince and his crooked shadows would be taking their leave of them soon. Konstantin, the adjutant who had been watching the entire ordeal with great interest, followed his example, as did the other officers soon after. Ástilliar only slightly inclined his head – he still had his hands full after all – before turning sharply to his left. 

“Come, Akiri.”

She followed instantaneously, not needing to be told twice that they could finally leave, and made sure to look menacingly enough at the guards so that they would open the big doors of the now in shambles-lying war room, so he didn’t need to put Vora down.

It was late in the evening when they emerged from the old building alone, not even von Seuchenhunger having dared to accompany them back to the gates.

The prince’s own shadow opened the carriage doors for them this time, before another shade of the flock took residence in the coachman’s seat to steer the horses back home. Akiri helped him get into the vehicle, both incredibly thankful that the eventful day was finally coming to a close. Vora was still carefully draped across him when he heard the faintest of whispers. 

“Sorry for ruining your important meeting today,” the small shadow told him, the guilt palpable in her voice. “I’m such an idiot. Why did I have to-“

Akiri felt bad for her, not wanting her to suffer just because she couldn’t sit still for a few hours, and so was incredibly relieved when Ástilliar interrupted her before she could verbally flail herself more.

“Shush, darling. You are no dunce, my dear. You shine brightest when you are yourself, Vora, and that will never be a flaw.”

A small and quiet smile found its way onto her lips before she slowly but surely fell asleep once more, content to be allowed to continue her rest in his arms, which she gladly did while he began lazily stroking through her hair with his right hand. The carriage had been moving only for a few minutes when the prince spied something glinting from the corner of his vision. Only when he turned his head fully did he realise what he was seeing. A singular shard of glass had punctured deep into Akiri’s right cheek, only the sharp end protruding from her hood enough for him to be able to see. Given that she had not mentioned it, she probably had not noticed it happening in the first place. When she saw him staring at her, she was about to ask if he needed something when he reached out to touch the piece of glass. Only then did the shadow become aware of the wound she had apparently suffered.

“Oh, I didn’t realise that I had been hit.”

One of the white gloves he was wearing came closer to her cheekbone before quickly pulling out the glassy knife. Thick, deep red blood soon trickled from the open cut, starting to run down her fair skin down to her neck, before he gently put his hand to her cheek, pressing lightly with his thumb onto the gash. His voice was very quiet, both not to wake her sister and to reassure Akiri herself.

“Nothing I cannot mend.”

His hand started to emanate the familiar and by now comforting dark purple and black glow she knew meant salvation, while their carriage slowly but surely left Fortress Viktoria behind.