“I’ve come to see my brother. It’s clear to me he needs help, despite his abundant capability. I’m told Prince Orion is ahead, tending to the plagued,” Argrave spoke to the Waxknight before him, staring at the man’s dead eyes barely visible behind his bandages.

“Do you mean to say our Holiness is your brother?” the leading knight demanded, taking a step forward.

“Half-brother,” Argrave removed his hands from his horse’s reins, holding his palms out. “But a brother nonetheless.”

The loose bandages wrapped around the leading Waxknight’s face slacked, blocking his vision, and he corrected it while pulling it tight.

“Prince Induen?” one at the side questioned.

Argrave shook his head. “No prince at all, elsewise I might have an escort gleaming as you knights do.”

“Argrave, then, the bastard,” the leading knight said.

“All are equal before the gods’ eyes. That’s what Orion says, at least,” he smiled warmly, defusing the situation.

The Waxknights sized Argrave up, then glanced back towards his companions, examining them in turn.

“For your own sake—the waxpox abounds here,” their helmetless leader informed him. “We will take you to Orion if you wish it to be so, but even our Holiness struggles to combat the disease, and more refugees show up daily.”

“I have an idea of how bad things really are,” Argrave turned his head, looking through the trees from whence they’d come. “Things get worse beyond these wetlands every day. Not all refugees had the good fortune to be tended to by my brother. And that’s precisely why I came here—to help him, and to help those that suffer,” he said seriously.

take you,” the knight gestured. “Orion accepts all comers. Whether you are truly his brother—that will be for him to

“My companions and I will follow

back and rejoined his party. At once, he directed Anneliese and Durran, “Drink your super juice, you two. I know you drank it this morning, but this is the heartlands.

took off the white, solemn Humorless Mask covering her face, and imbibed the liquid, wincing from its bitterness. Durran

voice tight from his grimace. Anneliese nodded, then

it was less leading and more so resuming the path they had already been taking. With three of these knights acting as ostensible escorts, Argrave was not worried about anything coming to kill them, so he kept his Brumesingers

knight’s capabilities to his party. Their entire body was affected by the waxpox. This made them immune to pain, and

tact enough to avoid asking shameless questions. Durran

and his gigantic camp of refugees, to come into sight. The wetlands of the northwest were tenacious and aggressive, and much of the fortress had been torn asunder by growth—trees, roots, fungi, and vines all consumed the gray stone. People

door, the knights directed them to a makeshift stable that they’d been using, and Argrave left his horse there without complaint. Durran seemed hesitant to leave his mount there, and his eyes glanced from side to side as though paranoid, watching each and all of the disease-ridden

steps into the keep where more of their colleagues abounded, guarding the man that lay within. Orion received a vast host of the common

toga. His black hair was all bound into a thick braid that descended to his knees. His eyes were gray, with thick and bushy black brows giving him a fierce gaze that might remind most of a stern, if loving, father. He grew an unruly beard that was still

to speak to Orion. They spoke to him, and then pointed. Orion looked at him. He pushed

recalling every experience he’d had with this man in ‘Heroes of Berendar’ all at once. A great deal of them ended poorly. Even still, Argrave held his arms out

earth. His presence was intense—he outsized even Galamon—and he hurtled towards Argrave like a bull. Despite himself, he took a step

air. His chest screamed out in protest as he squeezed Argrave tight, embracing him. Argrave felt that he’d grown a lot the past month, but now he was being treated like a small child. After a moment of rib-crunching embrace that very nearly triggered his armor’s protective enchantments, Orion put him back on his

muscles, and then laughed again. “And your eyes…” he paused, all of his mirth

turned, pulling Argrave forward effortlessly. “Everyone!” he shouted. “This is

met by exultation he’d not been expecting to receive. Orion heralded him proudly before

barely audible above the cheer of the crowd. “I see light in you, now. Gold amidst the dark, like Vasquer’s heraldry… and your eyes. Your strange eyes… that vex the voices.” He pulled away, wiping his face free of tears. “Family… we unite in despair. Three of us, all the stronger

out. They stood above the crowd, too, another dark-haired

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