Ban didn't like this.
Adeyemi's reputation was both fearsome and honorable, but each time the northern king's eyes had gone to Enfri...
Perhaps it was for the best that Pacifica forbade weapons inside the Salt Stone Palace. Ban wouldn't have been able to take his hand from his sword. He was anxious and twitchy, and he felt rather like a caged fangblade.
They were now gathered in a garden, warmed by sigils and protected by wards. In Ban's youth, it had belonged to his mother. Lady Ascania used to sit on the stone bench overlooking the cliffside and the Southern Sea. Within this green corner inside a White City, protected on three sides by the walls of the Karst wing of the palace, Ascania and her family had found peace. She'd tell stories while Ban and Rod sat at her feet. The previous king's twins, Sasha and Pacifica, would often join them. Ascania and Queen Istra would sit, holding hands and leaning their heads together, as their children played. Pleasant memories, now turned to ash.
Ban set aside the phantoms of days past. He held firm. And listened.
Adeyemi knelt before the stone tomb that was now in the garden's center. He bowed his head in prayer. "You honor him as a king."
Sasha stood behind and to the left of Adeyemi. "Dashar was to be the highest of us. My alchemists attend him to preserve his body. As soon as it is feasible, I will see him conducted to the City of Althandor."
"It is nay what I hoped to find at road's end," Adeyemi murmured. "He was both son and brother of mine heart. Melcia shall mourn him." Adeyemi looked to Ban and gave a slight nod before bowing his head once more.
Ban had recounted Dashar's final hour. He spoke of how he and Dashar had fought side by side. Though Adeyemi was disinclined to give it weight, Ban also told him of Duke Falthis Algara and how his venomous council had sparked Rodrik's Rebellion. Without Falthis' journal, stolen by Josy Algara, there was no way to prove it. Adeyemi had only Ban's word, and Karst assurances weren't worth much anymore.
The garden fell into silence. Dashar may not have fought in Ecclesia's name, but his swords had struck in concert with theirs. As thus would he be remembered in the south. An ally.
Ban kept to the mouth of the passage leading back into the palace. Pacifica stood on his left, her hands folded in front of her and a pensive look on her face. The princess' delicate features were worn from lack of sleep, but her silk dress and scarlet hair were in perfect order. The spellfire burn scars she'd received stood out against her pale skin, but they were fading. At Ban's side, she barely came up to his shoulder.
Pacifica noted Ban's scrutiny of her. The smile she returned him was slight, and her eyes had a gleam of worry within them.
A weight he'd been carrying for the last week settled on Ban once more. He felt he had dishonored Pacifica, disrespected the betrothal they once both wished for, and he couldn't bear the shame it placed within his heart. There was much Ban wished to say to her-- to apologize and beg her forgiveness for his callowness and cowardice-- but that would have to wait.
There were others present. Paladins Hugin and Rav, the former recovered from his wounds and the latter finished with fretting over his husband, were close at guard. The married song knights were armored and shining in the sunlight.
Reyn was never far from Pacifica's side. The Gaulatian scribe was the tallest woman here and the most plainly dressed. Her cotton shirt, vest, and trousers were out of place, but she didn't appear at all self-conscious. Dark red hair cut to her jawline, fair skin, blue eyes the shape of almonds, and a smattering of freckles lent her a stunning beauty. Were it not for her manner of dress and sharp tongue, she could have passed for an eastern noblewoman.
The Melcians gathered a few paces off to Ban's right. With the attendants and handmaidens they brought with them, they outnumbered the Altieri two to one. King Adeyemi was recognized as the most powerful witch in the known world. The two daughters he'd brought with him to the south were the last remaining spirit callers. His eldest son wasn't marked or even an arcanist, but he was a blademaster tutored by Maebh Algara.
If Adeyemi chose to start a fight, it would be another bloody day in Ecclesia.
Ban did his best to avoid glancing towards the princesses, Nkeoma and Omolade. It hadn't been all that long ago when King Adeyemi pressed to have Ban wed to one or the other, and there had been no shortage of drama in that debacle. Ban maintained to this day that none of it had been his doing.
Nkeoma was the younger sister. She was in her twenty-fifth year, and her rosewood skin lacked even a single hint of a wrinkle or line. Her dark and voluminous hair was curly, worn free and natural. She had a plump and voluptuous frame, and her heart-shaped face was one made for a joyful smile. Nkeoma's full lips seemed to be waiting for a kiss, and the lavender in her eyes sparkled.
Where the younger princess was soft and pretty, the elder was hard and stern. Crown Princess Omolade was twenty-seven, and she reminded Ban in a lot of ways of Jin. She was lean and broad-shouldered. Her yellow, backless gown hung off her neck from a silk halter, giving hints at the toned muscle of her body. Her hair was dreadlocked and woven with precious stones in the tradition of a Melcian knight. Omolade bore a scar on her lower lip and chin. The story was that she received it while hunting a hydra in the overgrown wilds north of Melcia.
The last and oldest of Adeyemi's attending children was Prince Zoputan. He was famous throughout the Five Kingdoms and beyond. They called him the Boy General despite that he was over thirty. At the tender age of eleven, he had assumed his rightful-- and until then, ceremonial-- position as commander of the Crescent Legion and marched south during the Nadian Rebellion. There, he had cut his fangs on the walls of Drok Moran.
Zoputan wore armor made from the tanned hide of a scorch kraken. The patterns like flames in the red leather made its source unmistakable. Knowing Zoputan as he did, Ban assumed he'd made the armor himself. The prince was a born craftsman. He was also handsome. His short hair was dreadlocked and woven with gemstones, and he had lavender eyes like Nkeoma. High cheekbones and a broad jawline had made him the envy of every man on the Continent.
Ban caught himself staring at the northern royal family. He snapped his eyes forward. Waves, but Melcians were lovely. It was hard not to gawk.
Pacifica nudged Ban with her elbow and gave him a warning look. It was belied somewhat by the amused twist at the corner of her mouth.
Alright, so I'm getting fidgety. I don't have the time to play nice with visiting royals right now.
Kimpo was somewhere out there without her Ruby Knight. She needed him, perhaps as much as he needed her.
Without her, how can I be... How can I claim to have the right to...
Pacifica dropped her smile and looked concerned. Ban's jaw and fists were clenched, and he knew his eyes glared. He gestured for Hugin and Rav to remain with Sasha. Once he received their nods of acknowledgement, Ban turned on his heels and left the garden. He could hear Pacifica making polite excuses to the others before her footsteps came hurriedly after him.
"Ban," she called out. "Ban, stop! What is it?"
"I'm sorry, Pacifica," Ban said without either stopping or turning towards her. His voice sounded angry to his ears. Ban winced and fought down the shame of snapping at her.
"Sorry?" she demanded, harried. "Ban, you can't just walk out on a king while he's publicly grieving the crown prince of Althandor!"
"I'm a known reprobate, remember? It's to be expected."
"We both know that's not true. Now tell me what's wrong." She overtook him and grabbed his arm. Pacifica was a dainty thing, small and delicate, but only an idiot would call her weak. She spun Ban around to face her and glared up at him as if daring him to try storming off again.
That look of defiance she wore suited her. Ban couldn't help but feel a semblance of calm return to him, and he resisted the urge to pat her head. "I really floundered that up, didn't I?" he asked sheepishly.
Pacifica didn't deny it. "Honestly, Ban... First you take off, then you come back in the state you did, and now you're raring to leave again. I nearly asked Enfri to slip you a sedative if only to stop you from running yourself to death."
"She wouldn't."
"No," Pacifica agreed, "which is why I didn't ask. She's in as much of a rush as you to be gone, it seems. But I can better understand her reasons." That last came with a backwards glance towards the garden.
"How can you say that?" Ban asked. "If it hadn't been for Kimpo..."
"Oh, sod off." Pacifica turned back to him. "We all owe Kimpo our lives. You more than anyone. I know. That's not what I mean."
"Then..." Ban felt a measure of ether wane from his chest. "Ah. I see."
Pacifica lowered her eyes. She was even less used to the elder magic than Ban, though she'd figured something out about their power that Ban hadn't considered. An unfortunate side-effect of their marks was that harsh truths couldn't be softened with kind words.
"I'm sorry, Ban. I know you want to help her, but... you're not a Ruby Knight anymore. You can't heal wounds in moments, your ether stores aren't even back to where they were before the bond, and you haven't recovered from walking back here through the wilderness. I know it hurts you to think it, but you're no good to your Huntress right now. You can't save her as you are. Not from this Elise woman."
Ban's chest was tight with frustration. Not because he thought Pacifica was wrong, but because he knew she was right. Ever since Kimpo was ripped from him, his magic didn't come as easy as it used to. It took hours to replenish a few measly measures. He could barely light a fourth-tier rune, let alone a sigil worth a copper penny.
Pacifica said he was no longer a Ruby Knight, brief as his tenure had been. More than that, he was barely a rune knight anymore either. Elise had damaged him. Even so, Ban despaired to think that he had actually come out of it all as the lucky one.
His nightmares as of late were... vivid. A dark place, far from the sun. Kimpo in pain. So much pain. Elise and Garret. Sadness, shame, and despair. A night sky in which the stars were slowly dying out, one by one. Ban feared that Kimpo was losing whatever battles raged in her incomplete soul. Elise was destroying what made her the Huntress.
Ban had preferred it when he just dreamt of the war in the Protectorate.
Pacifica touched his cheek, and her thumb brushed moisture from his eye. "Have you spoken of this to Enfri? Perhaps there's something more she could do to repair what Elise did to you."
Ban took three breaths before he trusted his voice. "I could ask. Not while Melcians are lurking behind my back. I don't like the way Adeyemi looks at her. He's figured out what she is, mark my words."
A light voice spoke up from behind Pacifica. "You mean the Aleesh girl we saw?"
Ban raised his eyes to Nkeoma. Reyn was with her, unsuccessfully trying to get away to warn Pacifica of her coming. Nkeoma had Reyn's arm in her grip, held casually but firmly against her as if they were dear friends.
"Apologies, my lady," Reyn said. "I meant to tell you that the procession has moved on, but..." A pointed cock of her head towards the Melcian princess.
Reyn's accent was her best feature in Ban's opinion-- a slight edge over her long legs. Gaulatians had a way of making the simplest statements sound like poetry, and Reyn's voice had a rich and sultry timbre.
"Princess Nkeoma," Pacifica said, startled. "I hope we didn't give offense."
Nkeoma had a cat-like leer about her. She hid a smile behind her free hand. "Nay at all. I am sorry for interrupting."
Waves, Ban thought in exasperation. She thinks she's walked in on a tryst. Why can't they get it figured that we're not betrothed anymore?
Pacifica took a short but deliberate step away from Ban. "I feel we're giving the wrong impression."
Nkeoma's lavender eyes traced up and down the length of Ban. She bit her lower lip, and there was a distressingly avaricious look about her. Memories of a stressful winter spent in Melcia three years ago flashed before Ban's eyes like a fever dream. He suppressed a shiver.
"Four princesses you have nay agreed to tie yourself to, Lord Bannlyth," Nkeoma said teasingly. "Mayhaps your standards are too high?"
Pacifica blinked in confusion. "Four?"
Ban winced. "Jin."
"Oh, right," she breathed. "I always forget that. She turned you down, though, didn't she?"
"Waves' blessings," Ban grumbled. "That match was our fathers' bright idea. Jin just put a stop to it where I couldn't."
Nkeoma had yet to release her death grip on Reyn's arm. "We are nay on topic, my lord. Why is there an Aleesh in Ecclesia?" Though she broached the subject bluntly, she kept her voice sweet and innocent as if she asked after the health of Ban's mother. "Mayhaps my eyes deceived, and we saw an Espallan girl with Teulite blood. Or Southron."
"I am also curious." Prince Zoputan came upon them. He stopped to clasp Ban's wrist and give him a nod. Though Zoputan was significantly older, Ban recalled tavern hopping in Adezu with the prince fondly. The Boy General could sing like a saint after he had a few pints in him. Utterly useless at cards, however, even when sober.
"Brother," Nkeoma greeted him. "How shines the daylight?"
"They go to the orrery," Zoputan said. "Sasha offered Father the services of the hydromancers."
Daylight? Ban wondered. Melcian idioms. Never quite understood them.
Zoputan inclined his head to Pacifica. "This girl, she was with Princess Jin before Her Highness vanished like dust motes. If she is what she appears to be, I nay understand why Her Highness abides her. To mine eyes, it nay looked as an assassin conveys her quarry, but as..." He furrowed his brow. "They did nay appear as foes."
Ban and Pacifica exchanged weighted looks. The elder magic combined with their familiarity was almost as good as having a full conversation. Their marks had advantages as well as drawbacks. The silent conference came to the conclusion that concealing the truth no longer served a purpose. There was no hiding what Enfri was anymore, especially now that the Melcians had undoubtedly heard rumors of dragons involved in the recent civil war.
"The Lady Yora is Aleesh," Pacifica admitted. "She is... under Her Highness' protection."
"The Lady Yora?" Nkeoma gasped. "She is head of her house? Light, she has a house?"
Zoputan got a distant look. Ban could practically hear the clockworks running in his head.
Pacifica looked helplessly to Ban. He returned her a shrug then helped out by taking up the explanation. "Enfri claimed her title," he said. "We recognized it."
"Even with talk of the mighty?" Zoputan asked. "Dragons and Aleesh in the same place raises mine concerns."
"Valid concerns," Pacifica murmured. "As you suspect, Enfri carries the blood of Inwe. She is marked by Shan Alee's elder magic."
Nkeoma's grip on Reyn's arm slackened enough to allow escape. She didn't seem to notice that she'd been eluded. Reyn sidled to her place beside Pacifica.
"Light," Nkeoma whispered. "We feared but nay expected... What of the Law of the Highest King? Aleesh must be bound and sent to Althandor. Granting her title means she cannae have hands laid upon her by any without Cathis' seal ordering it direct."
"Aye," Zoputan agreed. His eyes were suspicious as they traced over them. "I cannae imagine that Princess Jin would condone Altier Nashal supporting this young lady."
"Altier Nashal doesn't exist anymore," Ban corrected. He recalled true words of a golden future spoken to him in the mountains. "Our kingdom will rise again, stronger than she ever was. Until then, Ecclesia is now just one of five city-states. Even so, Sasha is still our king. His seal lies on House Yora's title. And as we said, Enfri is under Princess Jin's protection."
Zoputan shook his head, clearly not understanding any of this. "She protects a bond forger? Why?"
"I suggest you ask Jin. It's not my place to spread gossip."
It was the Melcians' turn to exchange glances. They were shocked by the implication-- all but scandalized-- and they couldn't comprehend it. In truth, Ban understood their confusion. If he had realized Enfri's heritage before seeing how she and Jin looked at one another, he might have had just as hard a time believing it.
No, I take that back, he thought. You see devotion like that just once, and you never question what the face of love looks like again.
"Every time I turn around," Ban said, "I owe Enfri my life again. It's not just Her Highness' protection she's under. House Yora's enemies are House Karst's enemies."
"House Romov's as well," Pacifica added. "More people than we will ever know owe their lives to her. Had she not intervened, Ban and myself would both have died. She commanded her dragons to assist the Lost Company as they fought the First Legion and turned the tide. Had we lost Ecclesia, Rodrik would now be marching north with the largest army on the Continent to challenge Althandor."
Nkeoma was visibly shaken. "Altier Nashal turning on the other kingdoms would have been..."
"Catastrophic," Zoputan finished. "Even with the other four great kingdoms combined, and what levies could be drawn from the client nations, we could nay field an army to stop your late brother before he reached the Spired City. It would have been a bloodbath. There is nay another force on the Continent to challenge the combined Altieri Legions in open field."
"Except ourselves," Pacifica whispered, her eyes on the ground. "The First Legion has splintered, and the soldiers returned to their sworn houses. The Second and Third are beginning to do the same. Many of the younger houses are turning to banditry, and there is word of violence in the other cities between the greater."
Reyn placed a comforting hand on Pacifica's shoulder.
"You said Altier Nashal would rise again," Nkeoma murmured. "I nay see how this could be."
"Faith, Princess," Ban replied, but he intended his words more for Pacifica than Nkeoma. "Not in our lifetime, maybe. But one day."
Pacifica raised her eyes to his.
"Is this an oracle?" Zoputan asked.
"Better," Ban said. "A goddess told me so. You might say it's fate."
Pacifica lidded her eyes and smiled. It was good to see her take heart, even if him saying so was all he could give her.
"Apologies," Ban said, "but there are things I must see to. Another time, before you return home."
"Lord Bannlyth," Nkeoma called to keep him. "Our father wishes for a united south as well. The Five Kingdoms need Altier Nashal whole. Since learning of what has come in recent days, he seeks for opportunity to lend what aid he can."
"That would be most appreciated," Ban allowed.
That avaricious gleam in her eyes again. "Now that certain arrangements are ended, and if Pacifica has no objections of course, mayhaps we can revisit... earlier... proposals."
Zoputan closed his eyes and sighed quietly. Pacifica and Reyn looked on as if Nkeoma had suggested a rendezvous right there, and Ban was feeling both a headache and a flush coming on.
"I'm sorry, Princess," Ban replied. "It's not an option."
She didn't look very disappointed. Ban's flat denial seemed, if anything, to encourage her. "If you are worried for Omolade, you nay need to. Since being named Father's heir, she nay has the inclination..."
"It's not that," Ban interrupted. With Nkeoma, he'd learned the hard way that if you let her stay on a roll, she'd have the floral arrangements decided before anyone else got a word in edgewise. "I'm not available for a match."
Nkeoma's eyes narrowed. "You are already courting? So soon?"
Pacifica covered her mouth and shot Ban a dry look that screamed "She's one to talk."
"I am," Ban said happily to put an end to the subject.
Nkeoma wasn't so easily dissuaded. "Mayhaps you should introduce her to us. If she is near."
Waves, it's the winter of five ninety-seven all over again.
Ban was set against allowing any such thing. After seeing the Melcians, Moon had looked troubled. Until Ban got a measure of where his blue stood with them, he wouldn't facilitate any sort of contact. Spirit callers like Nkeoma and Omolade were the ones that had birthed the fey races from spirits, used them as weapons against Shan Alee, and then abandoned them to their own devices. To Rippling Moon and the other goblins, the "white-scented" must have seemed like absentee creators that had suddenly reappeared out of legend.
"I'll broach the subject when next I see her," Ban said. It was the only promise he was willing to give at this time. He idly wondered how Nkeoma would react when she found out Ban chose a goblin over her. Not well, he believed. "Until we match tides again. Pacifica, farewell."
"Be safe, Ban," Pacifica replied. "Please, give Moon my love. Know I'm happy you found her."
Ban lingered a moment and searched his elder magic. The draw on his ether was negligible before he had his insight. Pacifica was sincere and meant what she said. It eased the weight he carried, if not all of the guilt. Ban didn't yet feel worthy of her regard.
Their eyes locked, and Ban could see that Pacifica didn't need him to speak to understand how he felt. She gave him a smile, and Ban knew.
You're my family, that smile told him. Always.
Pacifica gestured for Nkeoma and Zoputan to accompany her. She returned down the passage to head for the orrery. Reyn followed, keeping a fair distance between herself and Nkeoma. The Boy General, however, didn't immediately go with them.
"Another inquiry, Lord Bannlyth?" Zoputan asked.
"As you will, Prince."
Zoputan chewed at the inside of his cheek, his eyes distant. "The blood of Inwe is no small matter. Your young king must realize that Cathis will nay be pleased should he learn of the Lady Yora."
Ban kept his voice even. "It's come up."
"What do you know of her? Of where she comes from?"
"From nothing," Ban said. "A sky woman from an Althandi village I'd never heard of."
"Sandharbor."
Ban blinked in surprise. How could the prince have known that?
"When a house comes to its advent, should a woman claim the title, it is her father's name it bears. House Yora. This is a name known to me."
Ban wasn't sure what Zoputan was aiming at. "I know next to nothing of Enfri's father. She hasn't spoken much of him to me. Only that she never knew him."
"In mine first campaign, I heard tell of a warrior. He was called a hero. It was by his hand that Drok Moran fell. Honored, he was, by Ambrose the Merovech himself, though ceremony to honor this hero was forestalled. Duty and necessity were cited back then as the reason we never laid eyes on the Hero of Drok Moran, but now I have mine doubts."
Ban nodded thoughtfully. "Because he was Aleesh, and he would have been found out by the elder bloodlines present. The royal assassins would have been all over that battlefield, and hiding himself from them must have been his first priority."
"I nay knew Yora Page for Inwe's descendent until a moment ago. I ask, Lord Bannlyth, would a mere spearman, hero though he may have been, possess the clout to deny us generals and hierarchs our precious ceremonies by his own will? It is nay possible for him to have eluded so many elder eyes without powerful aid."
Ban saw what Zoputan was suggesting. "You're thinking the Merovech knew of Yora and purposefully hid what he was from Cathis."
Zoputan sighed. "I nay can see why a man such as he did so. The Merovech is a lecherous old codger, is true, but no man on the Continent is more devoted to his king. For your trusted friend's father, the mountain bowed. This disturbs mine heart, Bannlyth. I wish to know the why of it. The times are growing dark, my friend, and old things thought gone appear before us. Your Aleesh sky woman is one, but our goodfolk fear darker things still than the Empire of Scales. Wicked things mine father wishes nay to see."
"The old masters are stirring," Ban whispered, his eyes on the ground. Nashal had told him of this. For the Five Kingdoms, the real war hadn't yet begun. "Demons are coming back."
Zoputan's breath caught, then he nodded. "You southerners have a phrase, 'As you say'. Yours are nay the first we have heard of a demon-born doom."
"You've heard this before?"
Zoputan nodded, and his voice dropped to a low register. "Cults preach blasphemy against the spirits, and there are rumors of houses under sway of fell patrons. A month gone, a skindancer caused an upset just outside our border with Althandor. I fear what you speak of is true."
"If you believe that," Ban said with some heat, "then you have to tell your father that Enfri is the last thing he should be worried about. She's important, Zoputan. I know it. I feel it. Oracles and a goddess' prophecy both say it's so. To fight this doom, we can't let anyone threaten the one girl who might be able to save us."
"From demons?" Zoputan asked. "How could one sky woman stand against anything but a pox?"
Nashal's words spoke to Ban out of memory.
"The doom that approaches out of the depths of ancient time lies upon the backs of five. You and four others. Two you know, and two you soon will."
Ban knew in his heart that Enfri was one of those the goddess spoke of. The first of the Five. To help Enfri carry the burden Fate placed upon her, Ban would make as many mountains bow as were needed.
"She won't stand alone."