“This is a ploy to kill you my king!” shouted Lord Quellem.

  “I cannot help but agree with him,” added Lord Gash. “A brazen ploy at that.”

  “Now gentlemen, let us not be too hasty in casting such remarks,” pleaded Lord Vashva.

  Antares ran his hand through his hair out of habit. When the young king brought the letter to the attention of his council, he did not think he would be embroiled in debate all morning. And yet here he was. As the three winter birds carried on in intense conversation over the contents of the letter sent by the Queen of the Nephilim, his eyes moved over to Cyrus sitting in the corner. The boy was engrossed in what he was scribbling. From where Antares sat he could not see what the boy was doing but he was glad Cyrus did not seem as sad as he was the night before. His eyes were still swollen from crying but nevertheless, any distraction from the previous night was welcomed. There was still much Antares wanted to speak to him about, but matters of the state took precedent. The King of the Stygians looked over to Casspien who met his eyes and both of them exchanged words without speaking. Casspiens calm demeanor was of little comfort for even Antares could see the letter bothered him. Lastly he looked over at Guinevere who sat next to him, she too engrossed in the debate with the winter birds. Behind her, stood Ursula and Melina quietly observing the ruckus as it carried on. Antares brought his attention back to the black envelope that sat on his desk. The red seal on it was that of a beast eye. But not any of the ancient beasts that once roamed the wilds of Aurum. Perhaps by many considered the greatest of them all. The Queen of the Nephilim had made her seal the eye of the Blood God. An ancient and worthy adversary of the Great Serpent. He could feel the blood magic used, no doubt made with the Nephilim queen's own blood herself.

  The contents of the letter intrigued him. Their respective species had been embroiled in war spanning thousands of years, although it had cooled in recent millennia. Even still for a Nephilim monarch to send a letter to the King of the Stygians was something reserved for the realm of fantasy. Antares could not help but smile, if only briefly. The boldness of their queen was not lost on him, in fact he admired it. He wondered what could bring about such action from her, he recalled the conversation had with Guinevere. From what he understood Hightower would remain a point of contention seemingly forever for both realms. Both seeking to lay claim to it. But perhaps what concerned him the most was the look of doubt upon the face of his young general. A look that told him, all out war may be the only path forward. Perhaps like him the Queen of the Nephilim sought to bring a pointless conflict to a close. But Antares would not allow such a naive thought to fester. He had taken enough Nephilim lives in his youth to know such a thing was not possible. Hightower was more than a mere town or waypoint between both realms, it was far greater than that. What it represented for both realms was a turning point in their history. For as long as it existed, there would be conflict between their people, that was how it had always been, and how it would always be.

  “Hasty? General Guinevere has been embroiled in a two year war. And we have lost a great number of soldiers.” Barked, Lord Quellem.

  “It is not a war. And the Nephilim have lost far greater numbers than we have,” corrected Lord Vashva.

  Lord Quellem Robin, laughed mockingly and sat back in his chair. For as long as he had known Lord Vashva he knew the man to always be willing to temper expectations. But even for him he thought this was too far. No matter what the old council members had said or what was reported, this was a war. A war that Iliad was struggling to finance. As the new Lord of Gold, he had spent the last few days looking over Iliad’s riches. He understood why Lords Omiros and Aldios restricted funding to Guinevere even if they were foolish to do so. The cost of it was far too great. The region where the conflict took place was far too complicated to reliably send resources. It did not help matters that Hightower itself seemed to favor the Nephilim even though they claimed to remain neutral. To the old lord, the moment this conflict was announced Iliad had already lost. Iliad’s advantage was the strength of her army, but long drawn conflicts gave rise to complications. This conflict was not planned properly and the realm was paying the price for it. With such a secular approach to ruling these last five years, it meant Iliad could not ask for assistance from the likes of Avalon or any of the other realms in allegiance to Iliad. Such were the pitfalls of ignoring her allies for so long. And now with the arrival of this letter from one of their oldest enemies, Lord Quellem could not hide his uneasiness, something Lord Gash shared with him with but a look.

  “Lord Vashva, I agree with Lord Quellem,” began Lord Gash.

  “You see! Even Gash agre-”

  “To an extent,” added Lord Gash. Silencing his old friend, “ I believe this is far more serious than you are underplaying it. This is not just any Nephilim, this is their queen. They have never done something like this before. That should give us cause for concern.”

  Lord Vashva took a moment to respond not wanting to back down. "So what then? Shall we raise a call to arms? Summon the Lords of War to battle over Hightower, and break the Treaty of Escalation?”

  “Now that is not what I meant dear friend. I just believe if we are to advise the King, we should look at both sides, even possibilities that may be considered extreme." Lord Gash raised his hands calming Lord Vashva.

  Lord Vashva calmed himself. His anger and frustration were misplaced. He knew that letter brought with it terrible calamity but he did not want to acknowledge that possibility. Instead he prayed to the gods that the Queen of the Nephilim saw reason in peace, and understood the futility of open war. He allowed Lord Gash to finish.

  “I believe, at the very least, we need to hear from general Guinevere. She, amongst all of us, has met the queen.” Lord Gash said, turning to the young general.

  “Oh there is nothing I could think to add my lords. Any conversation I had with her was made with our weapons.” Guinevere said, startled by the attention she was now receiving. She had only been told to attend, she did not know she would be allowed to speak.

  “Nonsense princess,” barked Lord Quellem. “You and your knights are the only ones here who have seen battle against our greatest enemy. What say you?”

  Guinevere was slightly taken aback by such a demand. All through her life she was often overlooked or dismissed as nothing more than a princess playing pretend. Even as her, Ursula and Melina had trained to become knights, they were seldom looked at as true knights of Iliad. But here she sat with her closet companions. The most powerful and influential people in the realm looked to her for her opinion. Ursula and Melina both put a hand on her shoulder and that was enough to give her power within herself to stand tall. She looked over at Antares who waited for her to speak. He nodded at her encouragingly. Most of all she was glad for his respect, that her own brother, her king would want to hear what she had to say. She looked at the black letter again and found resolve in her words.

  “I think you are all missing the point,” Guinevere began. “Enrieta… Queen Enrieta is different.”

  This was the first time Enrieta Zxyphor’s name was mentioned in this room. The weight of it left an impression in the air. These men had avoided saying her name, for in some way to them to mention her was to welcome her into this room. A threat that Iliad had foolishly ignored for years, finally was acknowledged. No words needed to be spoken, in each of their hearts they all felt the same.

  “How so?” asked Casspien, intently paying attention.

  “I cannot explain it, but she flows as the wind does.” Guinevere recalled the times they clashed blades, the screams of her men dying rang in her ears. “She has no order. She has no attachment.”

  “She thrives in chaos then? How great. We are dealing with a mad queen.” The exasperation in Lord Vashva’s voiced was clear.

  Guinevere shook her head, “No. Not chaos. Chaos implies she too has no control. But she has control.” She placed her hands on the table, the memories strong, the fear stronger. “Calling her a mad queen might not be too far from the truth. She is like the last thing you meet before madness. Almost like its custodian.”

  “What an utterly unpleasant description.” Casspien said not hiding his displeasure.

  Guinevere was not done, turning her eyes towards the black letter. “To me the contents of the letter are inconsequential. I would be far more concerned with what comes because of the letter.” Finished the young general.

  They sat in silence for a moment, allowing Guinevere's words to marinate in their minds. Each of them thinking of the horrors that could follow because of what Enrieta could bring with her. Each of them were not strangers to the dangers that the Nephilim had brought upon the Stygians and those who lived within Iliad. Once their slaves borne out of a great sin. Forced to live in chains and subservience to their Stygian masters. Once freed from their servitude, the price an oceans worth of blood and eternal war. Something the Nephilim were more than eager to pay if it meant freedom. Now millennia later and their war renewed, through no fault of the Nephilim. Even now as Antares sat there lost in thought, Daimion’s mistakes still haunted them. For him to have advised their father to move forward with this foolish endeavor all to humiliate Guinevere. How long would the King of the Stygians continue to be punished for his brother's mistakes? He looked at the letter once more, a slow anger began to grow within him. Everything within him told him death was neatly hidden within that letter, that nothing beneficial for his people would come of it. And yet Antares was moved by the description of Enrieta, someone who could make his dear sister shudder with fear. Someone so aptly described as the custodian of madness, someone so similar to him. He had never heard of her before her mentioning by Guinevere and ever since, his interest in her grew. He wondered what she looked like, what her eyes looked like. How her milk white skin and porcelain hair glimmered under the harsh red sun of Vanahiemr. There were a great many things he wondered about her, and all of it was on the other side of the black letter that lay before him.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  In one swift motion the young monarch plucked the letter from the table, all present snapped out of their trance and followed the king with their eyes. Even little Cyrus who sat in the corner lost in his scribbles, could not help but raise his head. He did not pay attention to what was happening, but for this he did. Something within told him a great change was about to happen here. And so along with everyone present he kept his eyes on their king. Antares held the letter in his hand, the black paper greatly contrasted with the golden rings adorned on his hand. Its texture smooth and rough at the same time, he scanned it for any irregularities and could find nothing. He caressed the wax seal and just from a touch a great rush of power passed through him. His Akashic eyes offered him a closer inspection of mana and all that flowed around him. He knew non else could see the imprint of Enrieta’s soul upon the letter like he did. Such overwhelming violence and pain, the colors attached to the letter though small in their number each one spoke of a woman of authority and divine wrath. It was only the residue of her soul, of her Will and it still displayed so much authority. King Antares stifled a smile.

  He opened the letter and emptied its contents, a single piece of red paper was all that there was. He discarded the letter and unraveled the paper. For a time he scanned over the words looking over each one of them diligently, he did not want to misconstrue a single word. He took the time to look over it, again and again. Reading it over and over, ultimately he could no longer stifle the grin that had crept its way across his lips. Antares smiled and lowered the letter.

  “What does it say?” Casspien could not hide his curiosity.

  They all instinctively leaned in, curiosity had grabbed them all by the ears. For the first time in millennia a Nephilim monarch would speak to a Stygian monarch as equals. Their minds raced with a thousand thoughts, unsure of how one would even start such a letter. Many of them imagined Enrieta dictating the letter to a scribe, for she herself would not stoop so low as to write such a thing. But the anticipation was palpable, they could wait no longer, and Antares could feel it.

  “Dear King Antares,” the Stygian monarch began. “Foremost I would like to congratulate you on assuming your birthright. We live in a time where such things are hastily challenged. I would have attended your coronation but disappointingly so I was not sent an invitation. Fear not. I do not hold any ill will. I understand perhaps such things are not common between our people. But neither of us are common people to begin with.

  I assume the strangeness of this letter has caused you some concern. I will put your restless mind at ease; I wish to parlay in person about what to do with Hightower. Now I understand your apprehension at this, given that I a Nephilim, a people once enslaved by you, a Stygian, our former slave masters might prove difficult. And at the very least not to mention the relationship our fathers have… had. But I write to say that I am not beholden to our history nor am I beholden to my father, the Emperor. And I believe you are of the same mind.

  Four days from the time you have read this letter I will be at Aella’s bathhouse. I thought it a wonderful place given the history it holds for our people. It is also suitably located at the edge of your realm, a point I am willing to concede in good faith. No need to respond, I will wait patiently here. Myself and one other, that is all I will bring. I hope you do the same. Yours sincerely, Enrieta of house Zxyphor, Queen of the Nephilim.”

  “She really is mad.” Cyrus said what they all thought.

  “I have to agree with the boy.” Lord Quellem nodded.

  “Cyrus, what did I say?” Antares called out, keeping his eyes on the paper.

  The boy dropped his head. “Little boys should be seen, not heard… Sorry.”

  “Where do we even begin?” Lord Vashva said with a look of shock on his face.

  “That is not all,” Antares added.

  They all looked at him, “There is more?” Lord Quellem asked not wanting to hear the answer.

  “Yes, just one more thing.” Antares turned the letter to them with a smile now very apparent on his face. “Underneath her name, she signed it with a kiss.”

  The room was in utter shock.

  “Well she is an eccentric one, I will give her that.” Antares said with a laugh.

  “Eccentric is not the word I would use,” responded Casspien coolly.

  The stunned faces of his council offered Antares some amusement. The nature of the letter was nothing he could have expected. Admittedly his opinion of Enrieta had gone through many revisions as he continued to gloss over the letter. He read her words over and over again, imagining the voice that spoke them. He wondered a great many things about her in that moment, but his attention quickly shifted to his red faced sister who struggled to hide her displeasure at Enrieta’s brazen introduction. Try as he might, he never could bring himself to see Guinevere as nothing but his doting little sister. Even now the general looked as though she would storm off in jealousy, but she did well to calm herself down. The young king put the letter back down softly on the table. His mind made up long before the paper rested gently.

  “I will go,” Antares concluded.

  “You can not,” Guinevere said, slamming her hand on the table.

  “I will,” he responded.

  “Casspien!” Guinevere turned to him.

  “Out of the question,” interjected Casspien.

  Antares and Casspien glared at each other. An intense battle began. From the moment Antares started reading the letter Casspien was overcome with an uneasy feeling. The Sword Saint was keenly aware of his dearest friend's proclivity to be drawn to the irregular. It was one of the things he greatly loved about him, but it also put him in unnecessary danger. This was one of those moments. Antares was no longer a mere Crown Prince even if such a thing was anything but minor. Even so, Antares was a king now, a true monarch. The guiding light of his people and his home. As the new Lord Regent, it would be beyond irresponsible to allow his king and best friend to venture into such a place by himself. He had already allowed it to happen once years ago, and he still regretted it deeply.

  “I am coming with you,” Casspien said, opening the duel.

  Guinevere turned to him feeling betrayed, but before she could speak Antares cut her off.

  “No you are not.” Antares stated rubbing his chin with clear intention. "We both cannot go.”

  Casspien and everyone present raised an eyebrow, “Why?” The young lord moved his locks away from his face, intently looking at his king.

  “Because if it is a trap, we can not both get caught. Losing the king and the Lord Regent at the same time is quite embarrassing.” Antares nodded, proud of his reasoning. “This way at least if it is a trap, the worst outcome is only I die.”

  “Oh Gods help us,” Lord Vashva offered a small prayer.

  “It does make sense.” Cyrus agreed, finding no reason to oppose the king.

  “Boy,” Guinevere flashed a frightening glare at Cyrus. Who quickly made himself as small and invisible as he possibly could.

  For the first time in what felt like ages, Casspiens calm demeanor was replaced with one of utter bewilderment at the reasoning of his king. To Casspien Antares was a smart man, perhaps one of the smartest he had ever known. But the manner in which the young monarch often threw himself at danger without a moment's notice left him dumbfounded. For amongst many things, Casspien was thankful Typhon was not here for he would have agreed with the king. The giant Stygian was often the one to rope Antares into such outlandish plans and ideas. So for Casspien to hear such remarks from the king completely blindsided him. The Lord Regent tried his best to recompose himself, he knew it would be futile to go back and forth with Antares, he was far too childish for that to be of any effect. Instead he needed to choose a more tactful approach that would resonate with the inner child that had awoken within Antares by Enrieta’s letter.

  “I could list at least fifty-five ways your plan is terrible.” The Lord Regent said with authority.

  Antares folded his arms in defense, “Then do it.” He said, calling Casspien’s bluff.

  There were few joys Casspien had in life. His time confined to the castle allowed him little time for leisure activities as he was forced to deal with land disputes across Iliad and her various territories.

  It was a role of solitude, confined to one room and a desk hearing and reading complaints. Although his talents as a Sword Saint or a Lord of War were better put to the battlefield. The young noble also discovered he had an interesting talent when it came to arbitration and dissecting things down to their root cause. And so as Casspien began his barrage of reasoning as to why Antares’ plan was utterly foolish, a small smile began to weave its way across his face. Spurned on by his continued chastising of their king, Guinevere and the rest of the council joined in to give their opinion of the matter and the lack of seriousness Antares was taking the situation.

  Upon a sea of harsh words by those he cared about, Antares could do nothing but find himself at their mercy. He was not given a single moment to respond to any of their issues and instead accepted his fate. Their complaints ranged on for some time but in the end, they all managed to make somewhat of a compromise. They knew they could never truly stop Antares from going, instead electing for Guinevere to be his escort. At the very least, he was to be accompanied by someone who knew their enemy well. Guinevere had proven herself capable, especially with her defeat of Bracca and his men. The council found little objection to decline this. After a grueling back and forth between the king and his council. It was finalized that in four days time he would go to Aella’s bathhouse to meet the Queen of the Nephilim.

  As matters had begun to wrap up, Jon, one of the guards standing outside, opened the door.

  “Forgive me my lord nobles. King Antares, your guest has arrived.” The young soldier said, hoping Antares would acknowledge the confidence in his voice.

  “Ah Jon, thank you. I will be there shortly.” Antares said with a nod of acknowledgement that pleased the soldier beyond words.

  “You have a guest? I was not informed of this,” Casspien raised an eyebrow.

  Antares rose to his feet and stretched, “This was the spur of the moment thought that came to me last night. It will only take a moment. I will be back shortly.” He was not accustomed to sitting for such long periods of time. He continued to understand why his father avoided these meetings.

  As the king made his way to the door he turned around and snapped his fingers. “Cyrus come on,” waving him over.