“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.
“Orion accepts all comers. Whether you are truly his
and I
he directed Anneliese and Durran, “Drink your super juice, you two.
to fetch the drink. She took off the white, solemn Humorless Mask covering her face, and imbibed the liquid, wincing from its bitterness. Durran cursed too quietly to be heard, and then drank
said Durran, voice tight from his grimace. Anneliese nodded, then
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 close. Argrave could not say with confidence that Galamon was these knight’s superior in combat. They were some of the most dangerous warriors on the continent at this stage, exceeding the royal knights they branched
was affected by the waxpox. This made them immune
in proximity she had tact enough to avoid asking shameless questions. Durran looked discomforted with the knights, transfixed with an expression of horror and
thirty minutes for the abandoned fortress, occupied by Orion 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
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
guarding the man that lay within. Orion received a vast host of the common people,
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,
Waxknights went ahead to speak to Orion. They spoke to him, and then pointed. Orion looked at him. He pushed past
once. A great deal of them ended poorly. Even
was intense—he outsized even Galamon—and he hurtled towards Argrave like a bull. Despite himself, he took a step back. Galamon
Orion tackled Argrave, lifting him up into the 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
then laughed again. “And your eyes…” he paused, all of his mirth
turned, pulling Argrave forward effortlessly. “Everyone!” he
not been expecting to receive. Orion heralded him proudly before the crowd. Even despite their sickness, they mustered cheers. Orion’s Waxknights changed
Argrave’s ear, barely audible above the cheer of the crowd. “I
above the crowd, too, another dark-haired figure. It took Argrave not seconds to identify
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Fdv2vIuFE6C9iUjY1bySE1f1ahDJLNaw9h/5FRCwq3iXUiLudR1+GUJykJ2XZCu+Jj4E68VdzBc80r07JLFlNpmM6LctPdrLqqXXE3nmQB8dgRaUT749rpwMemz+EcqGk4BSpoP9IS37VPFcpkKe9Gi3hYmJxuvEtw==
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