"As unfortunate as it is, it’s clear he won’t swear allegiance to me," Merelao mused, his voice carrying the faint itch of sadness. "A pity. He fought alongside my father, you know. I would have rejoiced to have someone of the old blood accompany me in battle.

Still, it seems time is the decayer of everything. I had wished to have him swear his sword to me; now, instead, I shall have to strike his with my own in a moon’s time. A tragedy and a pity of the highest order."

Marcus made a conscious, Herculean effort to ignore the underlying cadence of the man’s words. He had long ago decided that it was not his business to figure out who Merelao needed to execute just to get an erection. He was not a physician for the deranged.

"May I ask then," Marcus said, carefully steadying his voice, "what the good news is that cemented... such novelties?"

"Oh, of course. My uncle has finally decided to join the fray. He has fielded a host against me, led by Lord Ober of LemonTree. A thousand spears or so, and a few dozen knights. They are currently stationed in Eurediolo, waiting to be joined by my dear cousin. When Latio arrives, they will make for me and my seat together." Merelao gave his Yarzat guest a pleased, almost luminous look.

Marcus blinked. He waited for the other shoe to drop, the part where they were all poisoned, or where the uncle had suddenly died of a coughing fit, actually, no...that was bad too.Yarzat meant for Kakunia to be embroiled in civil war for a long time.

Still, nothing came.

"But to fight you, he must reach you," Marcus said, hoping not to let the conversation die "Be assured, my Lord, the roads are a web of loyalist bands. It only takes four or five of these groups to coordinate, and your cousin will meet a most unfortunate incident along the way. He won’t even see the spires of this -"

"He must reach me alive!" Merelao suddendly snapped.His pleased face now getting serious "He is my own blood. It would be an insult to have him slaughtered by surprise in the mud of some shit-ridden field. He must fall to a sword from the front ,my sword. That is a kindness I must impart to him if he will not bend the knee, his neck shall be the one to do so under the weight of a sword. My sword."

"And he will be delivered to you, be assured of that," Marcus said quickly, smoothing the air with his hands. He took a breath of relief when it seemed the Kakunian lord had calmed down. "Though, may I ask you to continue?"

Merelao tilted his head at thos last words, looking genuinely puzzled. "Continue with what?"

"The... good news, my lord."

"I have told it already...."

Marcus stared at Merelao. Merelao stared back at Marcus.

Two unmovable object meeting each other.

Where? Marcus’s mind screamed. Where in that litany of disasters was the good news? An uncle’s host was gathering, a cousin was coming to claim his head, and the city was about to be caught in a siege. To Marcus, this was a death sentence. So how was it that the lord made it sound as a delightful social invitation?

"I see," Marcus said, his voice tight enough to snap. "It is... good that we know where the host is. Truly." He already knew exactly where Ober was, his own information web was better than Merelao’s, but he played the part. "It means we have enough time to prepare. We should begin the scorched-earth protocols immediately. We leave nothing but ash behind for them to chew on."

"I have no intention of leaving anything behind," Merelao said with a faint, breezy smile.’’This city is mine.By right of conquest if you will. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Last thing I will do is desert it for my uncle to take, that would make me a poor prospect as prince, I won’t have my career blemised by defeat to soon...’’

Marcus took a deep breath, the air burning in his throat. He felt the urge to reach across the table and shake the man until his teeth rattled, but he remembered, just in time, how vital this lunatic was to the Falcon’s victory. Merelao was the pivot and the anchor

He closed his eyes for a second, silently praying to any god that wasn’t currently busy, trying his best not to do anything rash, like leaping across the table with the letter opener that laid there at his reach.

"But my lord," Marcus began, his voice dropping to a low, urgent rasp, "this city is deep in the throat of enemy territory. You are a bone they are desperate to choke on. If you stay, there is no road for supplies, no path for reinforcements....you’ll be alone"

"The conflict is still green, Marcus. Most of the lords have yet to truly choose their colors." Merelao spoke with the serene, unshakeable confidence of a man who believed the world would eventually tilt simply because he willed it so.

He didn’t seem to care that the "other side" had more men, the legitimate crown, and the bottomless coffers of Habadia behind them. Why would they support him?

Somewhere beneath his mounting fury, Marcus felt a flicker of perverse respect. It took a special kind of craziness to look at the drums soundings for his hanging and assume they were there to play a symphony in your honor.

He would be alone. In a city he had barely finished looting. With a host coming to take his head and not a single loaf of bread or fresh spear coming from his sworn lords or the Yarzat Prince. Why was he so damn calm?

"My lord, I must impress upon you the reality of the situation,it would seem" Marcus said, leaning over the table, suddendly caring not about etiquette. "In the event of a siege, there will be active cells loyal to your uncle within these very walls. Traitors in the granaries, assassins in the shadows. And you will receive nothing from my Prince. We cannot fly men over a province of enemies."

"Oh," Merelao mouthed, a look of sudden enlightenment crossing his face as if he had finally grasped the direction of the conversation. "Please, do not fear for the walls. There won’t be a siege."

Well, at the very least he has enough sense to—

"I intend to give battle to my uncle’s host in the open field," Merelao continued, his voice light and airy. "I have neither the patience nor the stomach to sit here, drinking cider and eating dust, while the world moves on without me. I want to see my blade bathed in red. Where is the joy in a stalemate composed of merely waiting?"

Marcus felt the air leave his lungs. "My lord... your uncle outnumbers you. Significantly."

"The detail was not lost on me. It only means we won’t have a difficult time finding them." Merelao hummed a little tune as he filled his cup to the brim, the amber liquid trembling at the edge of the silver. "Please, do not look so dismayed, little spider. It is in your Prince’s best interest to see me crush my uncle. It will bolster my standing, silence the critics, and convince the neutral lords that I am the only choice for Kakunia. My army will be tripl-no quadrupled by their defections, and then? Then I shall provide even more support to my allies."

No, you won’t, Marcus shouted , unfortunately in the silence of his own mind. Your stinking head will be mounted on a pike for every crow to feast upon, and the Yarzat alliance will die with you.

He forced his features to calm. "I understand your Lordship’s wish to prove himself in battle. It is the noble path to—"

"Do you?" Merelao interrupted. He stopped mid-sip, his lake-like eyes fixing Marcus with a sudden, unnerving intensity that seemed to peel back the skin. "Do you truly understand it? Or are those just the words you were trained to say when a madman won’t follow your and your master’s whims?"

He set the cup down with a soft, final clink.

"Do you truly understand my rage?You know how it feels to know my father was butchered by his own brother, the same one who would have seen me in a shroud had my most leal Lord not snatched me from the jaws of the grave? Do you understand the powerlessness I have worn most of my life, knowing that my uncle, my sovereign, my own blood, was hunting for my head?He may wish to set hounds on me as much as he wish, but he should be prepared to be bitten back when they are dealt with."

Merelao leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried more force than a shout.

"My uncle may have the numbers, but he is fat with comfort and weak of will. My cousin is young, a boy playing at war with toys he hasn’t learned how to hold. I know my shields, Marcus. I know how to parry. I have studied Lord Ober’s tendencies while you were still learning how to lie to me how to seduce me to your master’s side.I have acquiesced to your little games, because I liked them and your company. No more. This is my game to play now.

I have not thought ’little’ of this, as you so clearly fear."

He stood up, his presence suddenly filling the room, cold and absolute.A prince in all but crown. A monster in all but looks. His features were that of an evil angel, suspicious, pleased, amused, beautiful, and angry.

Angry above all.

"Numbers do not decide the victory; your Prince should know that better than anyone. He may have no trust in me. You certainly have no trust in me. But I am who I am. I know my soul, and I know my enemy. I do not fear this fight, just as I will never again fear anything that comes for me in the dark."

He walked to the window, looking out over the city he had seized, his reflection ghost-like against the glass.

"I have waited half my life for this moment. My uncle is out for me, and I am finally, truly, out for him.

The games we played until now? The petty factions? The peace that hung by a measly, rotting thread? The political posturing and the empty acts? They have all gone to hell. I am here, and I mean to remain . The game is over. My sword is raised, and I am simply waiting for him to walk onto the edge of it.

I will have what I am owed. I will see to it myself."