1 Prologue: Ravalor

Ravalor left Aeven and the Northman to their banter, removing himself from the light-hearted conversation seemingly unnoticed by both. Or at least he told himself so in the same way he had to remind himself that he didn’t belong there with them.

It wasn’t that he thought he didn’t deserve to celebrate this victory. He was relieved everything had worked out in the end, even though it could have gone much smoother.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like their good mood and banter. Maybe most surprising to him was that he had come to appreciate it whenever it had occurred that last year. Those moments he had caught of laughter and chatter in the mess hall, the over-embellished stories, and even some of the jokes.

Hearing Aeven laugh again, still laying there in the medbay bed, revived twice over from death, had him realise how rare that had become during the last months. A first sign of things returning to normal.

But those normal days were over now. They had been a lie to begin with. Ravalor had to accept it; the sooner, the better because it was inevitable, and his resistance to that fact wouldn’t change it. That was why he wouldn’t allow himself to linger in that false promise of a future that could never be. The smile he had felt on his face for a moment belonged to that promise — and it too would be kept forever in the past and his memories.

He had saved Aeven. He had successfully finished his mission and fulfilled the task handed to him by the Hermit’s purpose. All that was left was to give the final report, confirm Aeven to be in good health, and bring him back to his universe. Other, much higher-ranking wizards like Yoctotyr would take it from there.

Aeven seemed eager to return, which was good and it was Ravalor’s job to encourage it, but Ravalor also was sure Aeven couldn’t even imagine what going back right now would mean. It would put an immediate end to any levity. So Ravalor wondered if he should give the young prince a few more days. Just to be sure. To watch him and confirm that really everything was alright. It would be the responsible thing to do.

With the right arguments, Ravalor would be given that time. Especially after what happened in Gorgon’s Row, he had earned himself a bit of gratitude.

Not only from Polaseran, whom the Northman had saved but also from all the wizards trapped whole or partially within that Remnant. Wizards that now owed them their lives. Even if not many of them were left sane enough to realise that.

While the credit belonged to Aeven and the Northman alone, as far as Mezchinhar would be concerned, as the wizard in command, Ravalor was still responsible for that mission. It was probably the only reason he had been allowed to use the Lord’s Essence the way he had. He had earned it. Aeven had earned it.

Bepazulux, Treva’s former court wizard, had requested to speak to Aeven as soon as he woke up. He’d probably delay this, too. For the same reason. Ravalor was tangentially aware the current situation in Aeven’s home galaxy wasn’t the best. Yoctotyr had enacted an emergency plan to keep the empire from falling into absolute chaos — but, as it turned out, not too many people were too accepting of what they perceived as an unlawful size of power, going so far as to outright blame all wizards for the destruction of the Earth. A spike this dramatic in anti-wizard sentiment wasn’t unusual after an attack like that, but it called for delicate handling of the situation. Yoctotyr would try his best to keep things under control, but there was still an entire galaxy that had already been at war before and the sudden power vacuum of where Earth had been hadn’t exactly helped with that matter. Bringing Aeven back and reinstating him as the rightful King Emperor would help. Or at least that seemed to be what Yoctotyr and Bepazulux hoped for.

But, right now, Aeven was granted a moment of rest and peace for the first time in months. The fact that Ravalor felt like Aeven wouldn’t appreciate this thought because he wouldn’t want to rest while his people needed him made that argument feel more self-serving than it ought to be. However, no matter what Aeven may or may not deserved or wanted, if there could be any problems with his new state of mind, it would be best to find that out before letting the crisis in the intergalactic Empire of Treva swallow him.

The doors to the med bay closed behind him. Lost in thoughts, he didn’t pay the soldier in the hallway any conscious attention. He was already halfway past him when he first spoke.

Has he woken up?

Ravalor stopped and turned towards the soldier. It was Isaac. The young man didn’t wear his helmet, and Ravalor was startled by how haunted and tired he looked.

Just moments ago, yes. Isaac, are you alright?

Isaac didn’t answer him. Instead, his next question was concerningly tense: Is he okay?

Yes. He’s fine, Ravalor said carefully. Something was off. Something crawled in the pit of his stomach, warning him about something. Teseni isn’t occupied. You can go see him if you need to, he added. He saw Isaac’s breath quicken.

Will we… The soldier took a deep breath, swallowing hard, Will we return? To his universe?

In due time, yes, Ravalor said, confirming that he had indeed decided to postpone the return already.

When is that? Tomorrow? In a week?

Isaac, what is wrong?

Desperately, Isaac glared at him, and to Ravalor’s horror, he noticed tears welling up in the young man’s eyes, gleaming in the artificial shine of his cybernetical irises. And he did not know what to do about that. I don’t know, commander. I don’t know… Isaac said, his voice trembling badly. I don’t know why or how. But— I’m not crazy, Commander. I know I’m not!

Isaac had stepped up to him, and Ravalor was ashamed to admit how much that made him tense up. Because there was something wrong here — something he knew nothing about. He had noticed the few medical entries noting Isaac having trouble sleeping, but he hadn’t read much further into it, assuming Teseni to be much better suited to handle it. Now, he felt like he had made a crucial mistake. Because the soldier before him looked unstable. Like whiplash, he was reminded of Aeven at his worst, driven half-mad by the confusion and dark magic. There was a similar haunted look on Isaac’s face now.

What do you know, Isaac? He asked, trying for a gentle tone but ending up more curtly than he intended.

Isaac searched his face like he hoped to find any hint about what Ravalor already knew. As he didn’t seem to find it, he said quietly,

If we go back there, to his home, we’re all going to die.

The words hung heavily in the air. He felt his own awareness sharpen as, with a delay, every living Part of himself paid very close attention.

Why do you think that?

I don’t know! Isaac snapped but stumbled back, apparently scared about his own reaction, hitting the wall behind him and sliding back against it. Burying his hands in the messy black hair, he sobbed. I don’t know. He repeated more weakly, breathlessly, with his face pressed against his knees. But I know it’s true.

Ravalor didn’t answer. But not because he didn’t know what to say. Or at least, not entirely due to that.

No, instead, there was that feeling again, and now it was pinpointed, like a needle being driven into the back of his neck. As he heard those words, something flickered in his mind’s peripheral vision, but he couldn’t grasp it.

How does he know?

He can’t. He’s clearly unstable!

Yet you believe him…

Isaac. How do you know?

Isaac abruptly looked at him, scrambling up from the floor again. You believe me? Almost stumbling, he grabbed Ravalor’s arms. We cannot go back! Please, commander! His voice rose. Please promise me we won’t go there! I don’t want them to die! His hands were clawed hard into his arms, he was nearly shouting at him. But Ravalor was petrified. Suddenly his back hit the wall behind him. A trembling went through his fingers as Isaac’s voice rang in his ears in full panic, the young face right before him. Commander! We can’t go back! We—“ magic sizzled across his hands, his heart was racing in his chest but then abruptly Isaac was cut off as Teseni pulled him away from Ravalor.

Ravalor saw Teseni speaking to Isaac, the doctor had probably been alerted by the shouting this close to his office. Isaac was in tears, struggling against Teseni’s grip, hyperventilating. He couldn’t process any of their words. It was the same feeling again as he had before Gorgons Row. Like there was something he just couldn’t see (like the Stargazer always said) flashing in the back of his mind (it was there), but he just couldn’t (he felt a sting of pain in his chest)—

A hand touched his shoulder, and a muffled voice spoke next to him. Almost dazed, he turned his head to see the Northman next to him.

What? He asked, his voice barely audible.

Are you alright? The Northman asked again.

What’s wrong with him? Ravalor asked instead of answering.

The Northman followed Ravalor’s eyes, briefly watching Teseni shove the suddenly very sluggish Isaac (probably due to some sedative) through the door to his office. Then he looked back at Ravalor.

 He has migraines, the Northman said as if that explained everything — which it absolutely didn’t.

Has he said anything like this before? About returning to Aeven’s universe?

I didn’t catch most of the shouting, but no, nothing of the sort. He always struck me as rather anxious, that one. Got even worse after we got boarded by the Orden. Maybe shellshock or something, but I’m not getting much out of him. He talks the most to Dion, but not even he can’t make heads or tails out of it. The Northman shrugged. What did he say that unsettled you this much?

Finally Ravalor took his eyes from the now closed doors and looked at the Northman. Then he shook his head. Nothing. I think he just caught me off guard.

You? Right. The Northman scoffed. Tell me once you decide it matters, alright? Anything I can tell Aeven? The Northman pointed with his thumb to the med bay where he obviously intended to return to.

Everything is alright, Ravalor said, straightening up. I don’t want him to— he halted. Don’t worry him. He deserves a few days of peace.

We’re staying here? the Northman rose his brows.

Just a little while longer. He could be unstable. This level of magic can be very unpredictable because we don’t yet understand it fully, Ravalor said firmly, implying it is not a matter of discussion but a simple fact. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s okay.

Aye, commander.

2 The New Me

The lord’s essence — Izshushnaya — or as Aeven, in his still lingering confusion about that thing, had called it: The Bowl of Good.

What had happened? Even if pressed to answer, Aeven wouldn’t quite know how to describe what he felt when everything had turned white before his eyes. When he, for a moment, had been… something else.

Physically, he didn’t feel very different now. If anything, he felt maybe a little healthier than he had been before. When he had died (the thought was still very surreal) in the fires of that unnatural hell chasm, he had been 34. He had been fit and generally healthy, besides some minor things like the persistent knack in his left knee after the liberation campaign of Caliban. Or the slight ringing in his right ear whenever things got very quiet.

All those little things he had gotten used to were gone now. A fresh body with no wear and tear — and immortal now, too.

But that seemed to be the only real difference he could see or feel, for that matter. He had kinda understood what the Knife Izvi did (mind controlling someone else), but he didn’t quite understand what the Bowl was supposed to do. Was it just to make someone immortal? At the cost of an eye? Or tongue? But then, not even always, if Ravalor was to believe (and Aeven now accepted that he really had no other choice in these magical matters), then he hadn’t even been sure it would work. It could have just killed him.

If you’re truly still good at heart

Aeven wasn’t much of a sceptic when it came to magic; he had been raised like that, but how was “good of heart” even a real measurable condition? Was there a scale from 1 to 100? Where would the cut-off point be? And why? And how could that be determined by sacrificing his own eye? There was no force in the universe that could make him accuse any wizard, least of all Ravalor, that it didn’t make sense, but based on the way Ravalor seemed to accept these artefacts of the lords himself, Aeven wouldn’t even be surprised if the answer would be: Yes it doesn’t make sense, to us, and we find that super fascinating. (Ravalor, though, probably wouldn’t say “super fascinating”, Aeven supposed.)

The result was undeniable, but the how was still more than unclear to him. When it had happened, whatever the Bowl had done, there had been the light, and then…

There had been a feeling.

A feeling so profound and all-consuming that it was… like he had been everything and everyone that had ever existed, embraced by a sense of wholeness that seemed to fill the entire cosmos.

And that feeling lingered still within him.

He felt calm. No, more than that. Maybe serene was the word. Tranquil even.

He remembered the anger he had felt, the anger and desperation that had distorted himself into something he hadn’t even recognized anymore. But that was all it was: A memory.

Even now, as he sat here on the rim of the bed, still in the med bay, still feeling the slight pain where his eye used to be and the sense of disorientation that came with his reduced vision… he wasn’t angry. Not even rueful for the loss of his eye.

Because in the lingering feeling in his heart, he had, for a moment, seen the beauty and vastness of life like he had always hoped it to be. The diversity and strength in the face of chaos and adversity. He understood the fragility of life itself; he had seen the unfathomable magnitude of death chasing it evermore, but there was nothing hopeless about it. On the contrary, it filled him with a deep and all-consuming gratitude to be alive. That everyone he knew and everyone he had ever known, even when they were gone now, had been in his life. No matter how short their time had been together.

A feeling in his chest tightened.

And finally, he just let it take him.

It was late already. Teseni had insisted he stayed for a day under his immediate observation, though it had to be noted that his bedside companion for most of it had been the Northman, not the doctor. The Northman was still here, but he was asleep now. Arms crossed, he sat next to the bed on a stool that didn’t look like it should support his weight, but where magic was involved, everything seemed possible.

He wouldn’t wake him now. But he also didn’t feel like going back to sleep.

Soon, he’d return to his duty. But there was no urgency in that now, not in the middle of the night. For the first time since he had remembered what happeded, he was allowed to be in solitude with his thoughts and memories. Nothing around him but the light snoring of the Northman and the ever-present hum of the Northforce. There was a light smile on his face and the deep pain in his heart.

When he felt the tears dripping from his chin, he just let them. Breathing deeply, he allowed the grief to bloom in his heart. But it was gentle now. The pain was still intense, but with it came a strange and unfamiliar sense of acceptance. A love he had almost forgotten about as it had been transformed into nothing but pain. But now he felt it again, untwisting from that distorted and amplified sense of loss like roots of light breaking through black tarr.

When he thought about his parents and the kingdom. His brother and the knights. The training and the war. The battle at Mars and the destruction of Earth. The Hammer and the very ship he was on. Ravalor and the Northman. Zenozarax. His own death and resurrection. The two moons at the brink of war, the harvesting of a supermassive star, the celebration of foreign holidays, a victory over encroaching darkness. And his crew. Friends as close as family.

How much had happened in so little time. There was wonder, appreciation, and purpose in all of it. Even in the worst that happened, there was a reason of love beneath it, the reason he fought for the good.

And again and again, his thoughts resettled around one person. The one wizard instrumental in all of this. The one wizard that had stopped at nothing just to make sure he would survive.

Whipping his tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, Aeven stood up and slipped into his boots. At the foot of the bed hung his uniform jacket, and without thinking much about it at first, he put it on.

As he left the medbay, however, he considered the uniform he wore now for the first time. It had been in his closet when he had first awoken here, and assuming it to be his, he had just started to wear it. It had seemed appropriate for the position Ravalor had told him he held, unaware that all of it had been a lie.

After he had left the med bay and no longer had to worry about waking the Northman, he moved less quietly on his way up to the command centre.

The way up there seemed different to him.

Of course, he had to consider his now quite dramatically reduced field of view. Even on this short way, he caught himself twice missing this or that handrail or panel just by a few centimetres. He was starting to become painfully aware that his depth perception was now significantly limited. But he assumed he would just have to get used to it for a while.

Soldiers losing an eye in battle wasn’t exactly unheard of, but in most cases there were decent replacements possible. He probably would have to wait a while, at least till his injured eye socket was healed.

The corridors were empty. Here and there, through opened doors, he saw the panels running some information along, the light slowly blinking in a steady rhythm. But the crew was asleep.

At least, most of them.

He took the stairs up to the command centre and smiled slightly.

See. This is why everyone is surprised when you say you do sleep, allegedly, Aeven said as he approached Ravalor, who sat in front of the front monitor panels.

Ravalor didn’t even turn around when he said, Wizards do need considerably less sleep than humans.

Hmhm. Aeven sat down beside Ravalor, mustering the wizard. You do look exhausted, though.

And there it was. It was brief, if he had blinked, he would have missed it, but ever so briefly, there was a change in Ravalor’s face, in his entire body even. A moment of tension like he had been just reminded of something terrible just to promptly ignore it had ever happened.

Aeven didn’t dare hope for much. It was already novel to hear Ravalor offer any information freely, like the small mention of wizards’ sleeping habits. With the way his memories now connected in a strange non-linear way, he found it hard to judge if Ravalor had ever not been like this.

But things had changed. Aeven had.

Is there a problem?

And finally, Ravalor looked at him. And in that very moment, Aeven knew the answer. But Ravalor didn’t give it.

How are you feeling? Ravalor asked instead.

Aeven carefully watched his own mind and emotions and waited for the flare-up of irritation, but there was none. Of course, he wasn’t happy about the blatant diversion from his own question, but he wasn’t angry. And anger wouldn’t solve this. Because he was slowly starting to understand why Ravalor did it.

I’m actually feeling quite alright. The eye still hurts.

Ravalor nodded. I feared as much. There is a small chance it may not properly heal anytime soon, at least not as the rest of your body did. In the worst case, if we can’t work with the curse, it may require some additional procedures to numb the corresponding nerves, if possible.

Aeven raised his brows. Come to think of it, indeed, it was strange that the potentially lethal stab wound tearing half his abdomen apart was completely gone, but his eye still was hurting. Why is that?

I’m not quite sure yet. I’m trying to find reports or testemonies in relation to this artefact, but it seems there isn’t any precedent for what happened to you. And still is, Ravalor said, looking back at the panels even though, from all Aeven could see, it was just a bunch of ship-related information. It’s why I think it would be wise for us to just… take it slow for a few days. Keeping you under observation. You are very special now.

The way you say that, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, Aeven noted with a lopsided smile. But as he didn’t get the response he hoped for, or any at all for that matter, it quickly faltered again. The tension within Ravalor was palpable and seemingly every second of his presence seemed to worsen it.

Do you want to be alone? Aeven asked softly, watching intently how the question alone nearly froze Ravalor in his movements before he quietly answered.

No.

Something was in that one simple word. Something he didn’t see yet. Not clearly.

Then please tell me what’s wrong.

The commander’s hand twitched on the panel, almost tensing into a fist before forcefully relaxing again.

I don’t know Aeven. I wish I would. But I don’t. I jus—- he fell silent, still not looking at him. I just need a little more time.

Alright.

Ravalor looked back at him, almost surprised. Alright?

You figure out what’s wrong, and if you do, you tell me. Okay?

Aeven—

I mean it. I get that there is still a whole lot I don’t understand about you. And wizards. And magic. But even though you made it very hard at times, I do trust you.

Ravalor shook his head ever so slightly, Aeven wondered if he even noticed he did so.

Aeven smiled somberly, Why is that still so hard to believe to you?

You seem different, Ravalor said, graceful as ever not to answer the question.

Yeah. I think so too. I do feel different. Not like before, this feels like me, but still, different somehow. Calm. Like, calm on a monk’s level of calm. Which is almost unnerving in and of itself, Aeven said and leaned back. There was a moment there, after you threw me into that weird puddle,… he began and was amused that he now held Ravalor’s undivided attention, going so far as to call the expression in the wizard’s face plain curiosity.

Where I felt… connected. With everything. The entire universe. I’m not sure if that was just my dying brain, the light at the end of the tunnel kind of deal, or something about that magic of yours. But it was… Profound? He suggested, not sure that was the right word. It’s like I now see the world more clearly than ever before. Like I understand it. Not just the world but — people too. I look at you, and I feel like I get it. Not exactly sure what it is exactly, mind you, but I feel like for the first time you … make sense to me. He raised his browns almost apologetically but the more surprised he was to see the slightest smile on Ravalor’s face.

The way you say that, I’m not sure that is a compliment or not.

And it probably wasn’t, Aeven had to admit to himself. Because what he didn’t say was the feeling of how alone Ravalor seemed to him. The way he had tried to shoulder every task on his own over the last months didn’t speak of a man who was used to asking others to help him. A man who was convinced the burden he carried couldn’t be shared. But instead, he said,

But it’s not just you. The Northman too. The soldiers. Thinking about everyone we met. I’ve always been good with people, at least I thought so, but this is different now. Like everyone is suddenly standing under a much brighter and clearer light. If … that makes any sense. I know this all probably sounds a little insane.

“You’ll need to try harder to meet my definition of insanity,” Ravalor said flatly, which made Aeven chuckle.

“Concerning.”

“However, I really don’t think there is anything insane about it. Frankly, this is the lords’ magic. No wizard truly understands it. There may have been changes to you we can’t even guess at yet.”

“Even more concerning,” Aeven noted, even though it was exactly what he had expected earlier.

“That’s why we need to keep an eye on you for a while. Make sure everything is fine.”

Aeven nodded. He sensed, somewhere in this weird feeling he had, that this may be part of Ravalor’s tension, but it wasn’t the whole story. But he also was willing to give Ravalor the benefit of the doubt for now. He had gotten them this far, even if it had been a bumpy road.

“Guys?”

Both Aeven and Ravalor peeked at the unexpected third voice shouting from the command centre’s lower level.

“What’s wrong?” Aeven called back, and only moments later, the Northman jumped up onto the main deck (normal people surely would take the stairs, but arguably there was very little normal about the Northman too).

The Northman didn’t look like there was an emergency, but there was an unfamiliar kind of frown on his face, subtle but there. Concern. He held a data tab in his left hand and raised it as he said.

“Just got a message. From Hatir. Princess Maria wants to talk to both of you.”

3 A Plea for Help

“What is this about? Why didn’t Walker inform me?” Ravalor rose halfway, almost snatching the datatab out of the Northman’s hand as soon as he was close enough.

“He would have but I bribed him to tell me before you if any messages from Hatir arrive. All I know is that it’s a high priority and confidential communications request from Hatir for the brass.” The Northman nodded respectively towards Aeven and Ravalor at the last words.

Ravalor cleared the panel, connected to the com system and momentarily a ideling hold symbol danced over the panel.

Let’s hope nobody is actively dying, Ravalor said, displaying his usual optimism. A few moments later the hologram lit up and the ashen face of a young woman looked at them.

Princess Maria, Ravalor greeted her stiffly. He seemed more irritated than concerned and his next question made Aeven understand why. How did you get this contact?

One of my aids gave it to me, Matthew.

Okay.” Said in a tone that suggested very strongly it was not okay. “Then how did he get this contact? Ravalor asked now more slowly, like he already knew and disliked the answer.

I gave it to him, The Northman said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes deliberately on Maria so he wasn’t meeting Ravalor’s eyes which as the Northman seemed to know gleamed at him with a near impossible level of disapproval. The portcom system of the wizard was simply amazing. It was one of the greatest assets of the wizards as far as Aeven knew, allowing instant communication across lightyears in real-time — but as powerful as it was, as twitchy they were in keeping it to themselves. Aeven knew of that well enough from his own time in the army. Even he had only ever had the privilege of using it a very few times, but it never failed to amaze him.

Prince Aeven! What happened? Are you alright? Princess Maria asked, alarmed, ignoring whatever glares of tension were exchanged between Ravalor and the Northman.

Aeven blinked, and he did so with his only remaining eye. He realised that the last time he and Maria had seen each other face to face, he had had one eye more and also looked about five years younger (and paradoxically probably about 60 years more tired) all around. But this wasn’t the time to breach that topic.

I’m alright,” he quickly assured her with a gentle smile. “What about you? What’s this about?

Princess Maria took a deep breath. Prince Aeven. Kingmaker. Her voice was calm but a light uncertain tremble betrayed her composure, like she forced herself to be as courtly as possible. I am deeply sorry to come to you with a matter that is this personal and delicat, but I fear I have no option left than to ask for your help once more.

Hey, no worries about that. What’s wrong? How can we help? Aeven asked softly, deliberately easing the formality of the conversation.

Met with the genuine and gentle worry in Aeven’s voice the barely held up veil of calm fell from Maria’s face as tears gleamed in her eyes.

Can I speak freely? Is this channel secure?

There is nobody listening who isn’t supposed to, Ravalor said briskly. Aeven, having gotten pretty good in reading between the lines of what Ravalor said, figured that these communications were if not monitored at least recorded by the wizards at all times. But that shouldn’t be relevant to her.

Maria nodded, quickly wiping a tear from her eye. Nobody can know about this. I’m sorry I—

It’s alright, Maria. What happened? Aeven urged. He wasn’t losing patience with her; on the contrary, he realised how desperately the princess needed help — and quickly.

She took a deep breath. Four days ago— a brief pause, maybe still hesitation to speak her secret out loud. My little Jeshua, my son, was kidnapped.

Your son? Ravalor peaked up. Aeven heard the same puzzled confusion he himself experienced. It had only been a few months since King Attila had introduced Aeven and Maria to each other with, as everyone had noticed at the time, the clear intent to get those two interested in each other. Then again, he vaguely remembered the Northman telling him about things working a bit differently on Hatir in that respect, so who knew?

Yes, but nobody can know of it! The desperation rang clear in her voice. He’s just six months old. He’s— a shuddering breath, an attempt to dry her eyes again.

Why can nobody know? Aeven asked carefully — though he assumed everyone in the room had their own idea already.

Because the father is Prince Sigfried, crown prince of Dragony. My little Jeshua was born out of love, not politics! But— her voice broke again He went to find our son, but now I haven’t heard from him in two days, and I don’t know what to do—

Do you know who’s behind this? Did they contact you? Are there any demands?

No! We had a lead when Jeshua was kidnapped, and Sigfried followed it, but—’

Did anyone know about this? Anyone who might want to harm either of you?

Nobody. Nobody but my closest aides even knew of my pregnancy. One of them raises him as hers so I can be close to him. But I trust her! She’s devastated too. Maria explained feverishly. My god, he’s only six months old. And Sigfried he—

We’ll find them, Maria. I promise, Aeven said, his voice firm but not harsh. It was a passionate declaration, an oath almost, that he would see to it, even if it was the last thing he did. “Tell us everything you know.

Briefly he glanced at Ravalor, expecting at least some sense of disapproval that always seemed to come along any unexpected diversions to his current plans — but to Aeven’s surprise there was none of that. If anything, there was a sense of relief that struck Aeven as even more concerning but for now he decided not not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Sigfried was frequently staying on Hatir in a diplomatic function. We’ve been allied with Dragony for twelve years and we’ve — that really doesn’t matter.” Maria shook her head. Her breath quivered but she held her head high and kept her voice clear. “The point is, we got close, and one led to the other. Not many people knew, as I said, my closest aides were aware, Sigfired’s brother and sister also were made aware, discussing how to most diplomatically bring this to our parents’ attention. As Siegfried is the crown prince of Dragony this was a matter of great care.”

“Of course.” Aeven nodded along, keeping Maria talking. Ravalor and the Northman both stayed quiet too, perfectly willing to let him handle this.

“Then four days ago—” she took a deep breath, “Jeshua was taken from his crib while we all were asleep.”

“From inside the crypt?”

“Yes. He was the only child taken from the nursery that night. The other infants are all still there. They knew exactly who he was.”

Aeven saw Ravalor move in the corner of his eye, and supposed he knew why the commander kept his lips pressed as tightly together as he did. He could almost hear his objection. It wasn’t proof of anything yet, merely conjecture.

“What was that lead you spoke about?” Aeven prompted.

“There was a scent. I had Matthew follow it immediately. There is of course an official investigation but they don’t know about the details. Whoever did this left Hatir merely an hour after, we found the ship they left with and where they were going. The destination was the space station Dinaric. It used to be merely a crossing point between Dragony and their colony Felony but it now lies right in the middle of the neutral zone, still used as a trade hub between the two planets during their current ceasefire,” Maria explained, trying to be as concise as possible. “Sigfried had been on Dragony at the time and went to Dinaric to intercept the ship, I know he arrived at the station, but I haven’t heard from him since. And that was two days ago.”

He went alone? Ravalor asked.

He usually has guards with him, but - with this matter...

What communications network were you using?

There is a direct relay network between Hatir and Dragony. We only used a secure channel of course.

The low yet remarkably disapproving scoff Ravalor seemed to suggest that he doubted the very existence of something like a secure channel. Instead of voicing it he instead turned to Aeven, What do you want to do about it?

Let’s go to Dinaric and find out what happened. I’m not familiar with the station, so— he fell silent, remembering that with all the facts now on the table, nobody but Maria would even assume he was knowledgeable about it. “Maria, please send us all the information you can, from his contact information to recent pictures of both Sigfrid and your son if you have them at hand. We’ll make ready and be on our way swiftly.

Let me come with you!

Alright, Aeven said quicker than Ravalor could have objected. It didn’t stop him, though, to do it immediately after with barely any room for discussion:

No. Maria, we will not take you with us. I can not be responsible for your safety.”

Ravalor, maybe she’s in danger too! Aeven countered.

I generally make it a point not to kidnap princesses. We can’t just take her with us. Turning to Maria, Ravalor added, With all due respect, your Highness, if this is to stay a secret, you can’t just leave; there will be questions asked.

Let me worry about that, she said with grim determination that mirrored that of her father almost uncannily. This is my son. If you find who took him, I want to be the one tearing his head from his shoulders.

That’s the spirit, lass, the Northman hummed from behind them. Aeven cleared his throat, like that would remind everyone that they shouldn’t contemplate murder quite yet.

I could tell my father you invited me to visit earth, Maria suggested.

Until something goes wrong and I have to explain to the King how his daughter could have died on a friendly visit to earth, Ravalor said grimly, not bothering to dress his words in anything even close to gentleness. I understand your desire for vengeance as well as your duty to your house to protect and defend your own, Maria, but we’re not taking you with us. I’m sorry.

Kingmaker…

No! It’s safer this way.

Aeven met Ravalor’s eyes briefly. Considering their team as it were, he really had to admit there was no reason to get her into danger too. He instinctively wanted to give her this agency over the situation, understanding how scary the helplessness would be in this situation, and he didn’t doubt for a second Maria most capable of fending for herself if it came to it, she was a werewolf after all. But if they were to run into a problem that a wizard, an immortal cyborg and a whatever-immortal-he-now-was carrying the Hammer, couldn’t deal with, one werewolf more or less probably wouldn’t change that.

He’s right, Aeven finally said. I’m sorry.

For a moment, Maria looked heartbroken at them and gently shook her head. But then she smiled somberly. Then please just bring them back to me.

We will, I promise you that, Maria.

Then Ravalor spoke again. On the matter of your father, however, may I inquire, why not tell him? King Attila is a reasonable man. A kind man. He adores you. Why not trust him in this matter? Have the full help of the Hatirian church?

For a moment she was quiet, looking very uncomfortable, flustered even.

It’s not the one thing. It’s all of it, she finally said. The political situation with Dragony, the war, Sigfried, the fact that I lied, over and over again, about the pregnancy, the Abbey, everything. Her expression became painful while her tone sounded tragically amused, like she was reciting a particularly bitter line of scripture. I should have known. I told lie after lie, and soon I lied for the lie that came before, and the truth could only bring down the world I had built. She shook her head, pleadingly looking at both of them. I can’t tell him, not like this, not while the war is going on and not in the middle of a crisis. It would break his heart.

I think you may underestimate your father, Maria. I think he would go to hell and back to get your son back. He would forgive you. But you have to tell him, not lie to him more.

Aeven looked surprised at Ravalor. He had sounded different as he said it, more gentle and understanding than usual, and consequently, he wasn’t surprised to see the faint glimmer in the wizard’s eyes. Maybe this was whom they knew as Kingmaker, Aeven thought suddenly, this rare side of Ravalor that gave advice and showed care in the way Aeven had always thought of the Hermit of Artlenburg.

Tears glistened in the princesses eyes.

I know. And I will. But please just let us fix this first, please. I want to hold my son in my arms with Sigfried at my side when I tell him, to show him his beautiful grandson and the love that brought him into this world. It can’t be like this!

Ravalor nodded.

We’ll find them, Aeven promised once more.

Thank you! Please stay safe.

Always.

Northman, it is not your duty, but will you carry this burden for our pack nevertheless?

Yes, ma’am. And say hi to the rest, will you.

Of course, she smiled softly. I hope to hear from you soon. May the father guide your hunt.

The connection was cut, and Aeven glanced at Ravalor. I’m sure you were included in the stay safe.

Ravalor, however, ignored that, glaring at the Northman, I knew it!

What? The Northman raised his brows in a perfect display of innocence.

Zultien! Y zulninax presilky sasen je surtien! I explicitly told you not to and you did it anyway!

Guys? Aeven peeped up, almost stunned into silence by Ravalor actually properly cursing. He didn’t know a lot of the wizards language but he had been around them long enough to recognize Zul as an expression of genuine frustration.

“I know and I’m very sorry that you had to find out,” the Northman conceded with a sagely nod. Aeven didn’t miss how he hadn’t said he was sorry for what he had actually done. For a moment Aeven feared Ravalor would actually just port the Northman into the nearest star.

“You—” Ralarhor took a very deliberate and deep breath.Get ready. We jump in 60 minutes, mission briefing in 30. Ravalor snapped as he already pressed his hand against the panel of the front console. The ship came alive at once with a howl, startling every soldier out of their bunks as his voice boomed through the empty corridors.

Alright, yeah, we are indeed going very swiftly. That’s good. Aeven let Ravalor do his thing. Behind him, he already heard the footsteps of soldiers rushing to their positions. He waved to the Northman to follow him.

We’ll be in the briefing room, getting a plan ready. We have information on the station I assume?

Of course, Ravalor said impressively stiffly.

*

Both Aeven and the Northman entered the briefing room, shutting out the voices of the soldiers preparing the jump from the CC.

What was that about? The war she mentioned, Aeven asked as he sat down at the desk, raising the panels with a few manual button presses. He could have asked about that little fight between Ravalor and the Northman, but Aeven felt already with the snippets of facts he had he had a very clear picture about what had happened. So he postponed questions concerning that matter to a time with less kidnapped children.

The Northman dropped down on the sofa. I don’t know much. Just a bit I heard from Hatir. Ravalor just lifted the media blackout we flew under for the last months. And then it’s a lot of places we don’t know doing a lot of stuff I have no basis to judge.

In broad terms then, Aeven suggested as he looked through the Northforce’s database for the space station Dinaric.

There is war at the galaxy’s edge, or was, the Twilight Force, which appeared to be an united government all the places we went as of late belong to. But in the last months tensions have been spreading inside the federation space. But I can’t say why.

Alright. On the left side of the panel a list of files and dossies started to show up Aeven hadn’t even requested yet and he suspected that it was either Ravalor’s doing or the Northforce herself. The files covered about every location and person that had been mentioned this far. Dragony and its former colony Felony, the space station Dinaric, that was supposed to be retired twenty years ago already but now served as diplomatic hotspot between the two planets after declaring independence as well, now calling itself a free station. Prince Sigfried and his brother Franz and sister Elena, as well as a file for Princess Maria. The personal files were rather short compared to the extensive technical and historical details of the locations.

He skimmed over the information on Sigfried. Crown prince of Dragony. His brother was actually his “younger” twin brother, though they were not identical twins. Their sister Elena was the oldest of the three. And apparently the Kaiser of Dragony, their father, was in bad health, as stated in news not even two days old.

A few moments later a transcript of the conversation with Maria as well as additional information Maria must have just sent was added to the list. Contact information, pictures, the ship name and information of the transport that had left Hatir including passenger manifest, flight path and dates. It was a lot.

Additionally, a low ping indicated an incoming transmission. Aeven had no chance to even deny it as the line already opened.

Aeven, there is something weird here. There is a video feed of a security camera showing a man with a child of that age in the area of the transport. Ravalor’s voice came through and in accordance the panel suddenly started to have a life on it’s own, opening the video in question. Then a picture of Sigfried at its side. This man looks suspiciously like Sigfried himself.

You don’t believe it’s actually him, do you? Aeven frowned, zooming into the video. The man really looked a lot like Sigfried. Aeven glanced over the files of Sigfried and his family.

I don’t know the man, I couldn’t say. However, that is only part of it. I just got the corresponding IDs for these two and they are obviously fake.

That was to be expected.

Yes. But what I mean is that they are impressively amateurish. What really was impressive was how outraged Ravalor sounded about that fact. Hold on, there is someone—

Wait, where are you? but the connection was cut before Aeven had ended the question.

Probably the Kingmaker, snooping around, the Northman suggested, which did not ease Aeven’s confusion. But deciding that his ignorance about Ravalor’s weird ability to be at several places at once wasn’t of concern now, effectively chalking it up to “wizard stuff”, he returned to the new information on the panel.

A few minutes later the officers appeared in the room, First Officer and navigator Nathaniel, chief Engineer Dion, security and communications officer Walker, and the ship’s doctor Teseni, all but Nathaniel (who looked as immaculately put together as always) showed several signs of having woken up merely half an hour ago. Ravalor was the last one to enter a short moment later.

He didn’t waste any time with pleasantries and opened up the relevant information for everyone at their places at the long conference table.

This is the son of Princess Maria, from Hatir, Jesuha. He was kidnapped four days ago. We’re going to Dinaric to find him and bring him back. He recapped swiftly for the soldiers.

How old is he? Dion threw in curiously.

Six months. Ravalor answered ever so briskly. Aeven watched Dion for a moment, feeling a lopsided smile on his own face as he noticed the downright fascinated interest as Dion whispered something to Nathaniel and earned himself what was probably a warning glare. He realised that in likelyhood, none of the soldiers had ever even seen a baby.

Dion whispered something more to Nathaniel along with that shrug of the hand that usually indicated raised brows behind the mask. In the meanwhile Ravalor simply carried on ignoring the murmuring,

Dinaric is what we call a closed information node, it’s old and there is a general paranoia about the free flow of information. Most systems are isolated which will make it difficult to get the information we need.

Consequently they are not very welcoming to known wizards and there is no established port point on that station. For a start we are better off entering the station through official channels and under cover. I’ve requested a shuttle for that exact purpose, the hangar bay is being prepared for it as we speak.

Aeven nodded along, there was a point when one just accepted a wizard’s words as facts and he had crossed that point already years ago. How would they suddenly have a shuttle? Didn’t matter, a wizard said it was so, and so it was.

To make things easier we should try to blend in, that means Aeven, myself and the Northman will enter the station alone, and— he turned to the Northman, You’ll have to cover up.

Already hate it, the Northman chuckled.

For the record I’d state that I’d rather do this alone, but— Ravalor sighed in resignation as predictably Aeven already cut him off.

Yeah forget it, Aeven said. This could be dangerous.

Indeed. Ravalor agreed, implying that that was exactly the reason why he wanted to do it on his own. With the tension being as high as they are in this galaxy, this could be just another result of it, especially given the political hostilities of Dragony and Felony respectively. However—“ he opened up the picture again, showing the man holding the small child from the security video. This could just be someone who looks remarkably like Sigfried, it could be Sigfried himself for all we know, but it could also be a wizard.

That really would be bad. Aeven muttered. Whether or not it’s a wizard or not doesn’t solve the question as to why this is happening. Since there are no demands raised to Hatir it’s probably targeting Sigfried. He is the crown prince of Dragony after all. And especially considering this double—

If it is a double, Ravalor said.

What are you saying? He kidnapped his own son? What for? Aeven rose his brows.

Maybe he’s having regrets over it. This could have political implications we’re not aware of. Ravalor shrugged, making it clear he wouldn’t prescribe to any of these hypophesis yet.

So he just goes and lets the kid disappear? I can’t believe that, Aeven said nevertheless.

You don’t know this man Aeven, neither of us does.

But we do know Maria. You can’t tell me she—

If— the Northman said, interrupting the heated back and forth —it’s him though. Why has he gone MIA?

Right. No matter the motivation or reason — something must have gone wrong, Ravalor agreed. There is also the matter of the fake IDs. As I mentioned, they aren’t good and don’t hold up to even a moment of scrutiny. They were either made in quite a hurry or with the intention of being revealed as fraudulent immediately.

Aeven glanced back at the picture of the little baby boy. In the dimly candle-lit environment the dark fluff on his head could pass as brown or grey depending on how much one squinted.

What about the child? Regarding the whole need to drink blood thing, we probably should account for that, Aeven said.

Don’t think that one’s a pup. The Northman gave a nod to the panel. That ’blessing’ is paternal. And Sigfried’s not a wolf.

Aeven looked back to Ravalor for confirmation who nodded, looking surprisingly peeved about it. Yes, inexplicably our new Hatirian expert is correct on that.

Hey, I read a book, alright, the Northman countered, and Aeven added, “He really did,” which did not ease the expression in Ravalor’s eyes that seemed to want to set the Northman ablaze by sheer willpower.

Alright, this makes things a little easier, but it’s still an infant. So we better hurry up regardless, Aeven quickly continued before anyone would actually catch fire.

Aye, The Northman hummed, pretending utter ignorance of Ravalor’s death glare.

We’ll port directly into the starsystem, as close to Dianic as possible while staying hidden. From there we take the shuttle onto the station. Ravalor raised a map of the star system where their planned flight path was calculated on the fly.

Do we need fake IDs too?

No. Well, technically yes, but you already have one, so does the Northman.

Yes I’m aware, but maybe it would be good to not get Aeven into more trouble, Aeven said, referring to the other Aeven of this reality whose body he had inhabited for the last year.

Then we should make sure to not get into trouble. Ravalor suggested. Their eyes met for a long moment before Ravalor yielded, Fine, I’ll change it.

Thank you.

We’ll make the jump in 10 minutes, go with Walker to the requisitions office and get dressed appropriately. I’ll update the database accordingly. I’ll meet you there once we’re ready to leave.

4 To Dinaric

The jump itself went as smoothly as Aeven ever knew them to be. For a moment the sounds of the Northforce raised to a deep harmonic hum before a slight feeling of change tingled down his spine, a split second of weightlessness, then the ship returned to its normal soundscape. The deep blue port warning light turned back to a soft teal glow, signalling to everyone that they could let go of whatever support they had held onto. It didn’t feel like much had happened, just that he knew they were now potentially hundreds of light-years away from the place they had been just seconds ago.

He pulled up the plain dark work-overalls and added the utility belt Walker handed him. It looked like it was filled with all sorts of useful tools, and at closer inspection he also noted one tube of the antiseptic cream Teseni had prescribed him for his eye. The moment he thought about it he felt that slight itch again, the phantom pain of a muscle trying to move an eye that just wasn’t there.

Probably best to wrap her up. Aeven nodded over to the Hammer, trying to distract himself again.

Sure. Granted they let you through customs with it. The Northman shrugged as he pulled his hair up and bound it into a tight knot at the back of his head.

There shouldn’t be a problem from what I read, Walker said firmly. Dinaric allows weapons on the station to be carried openly and the use of deadly force in self-defence is not prohibited. So you should assume everyone else is armed too. And make sure to always have at least one witness with you in case of an incident.

Noted, Aeven said, watching Walker hand the Northman a brass adorned rifle which the Northman hung over his shoulder, letting it casually dangle behind his back. It was an unfamiliar look but what made it weird was how not wrong it looked. Or better said, how right the Northman made it look.

He wore the same type of overall Aeven had been given, just that he hadn’t pulled it up fully, instead having bound the sleeves around his waist, just enough to cover up any visible signs of his cybernetic legs. Besides that he wore a plain slightly grayed-out t-shirt that was stretched mercilessly over the broad chest and showed several signs of washed out stains. The shirt as well as the overalls they both wore were marked with a round blue emblem showing in silver lines the abstract form of a fired up jet engine, and above it, framed by the outlining circle where two letters of an alphabet probably neither of the two had ever seen before.

There was even something different in the way the Northman stood, like an unspoken promise that anyone crossing him on the wrong food would reap bloody consequences for it. Which was relatively unnerving.

You look pretty convincing, Aeven noted.

I’d hope so. The unsettling character broke as the Northman grinned. I think I’m gonna be good in the hired muscle type of deal for whatever you two will have going.

Wouldn’t that be, as you call it, type-casting? Walker noted wonderingly, sounding impressively dry as he did so.

Right, I did say I hated that…. okay, then maybe, I actually, am a scientist. That would be a twist.

Most certainly.

Aeven just quietly listened to the other two while he wrapped up the Hammer in one of his blue cloaks, fastening it with his very own cape closing. Walker had an amusingly detached way of speaking that could only be topped if he were to start calling the Northman “sire” at the end of each sentence like an overly bored butler might do. At the same time, even when the mission was no laughing matter surly, Aeven didn’t fault the Northman for joking around, because Aeven knew he was taking the situation seriously. At least seriously enough. He had only ever once told him to “drop the act” so to speak, at a particularly tense situation on Hyperion 4, their second ever battle together, and he had regretted it ever since. As it turned out, not a lot made him more nervous than the Northman turning quiet and overly serious.

“I’d suggest not straying from the established background too much.” Ravalor’s voice suddenly cut through the conversation. The commander stood in the doorframe and nodded into the hangar bay as he asked, “Are you ready?”

Aeven was positively startled by how different Ravalor suddenly looked. The uniform was gone, that much he had expected, replaced with a similar jumpsuit he and the Northman wore. His sleeves were as usually rolled up (Aeven suspected it was probably easier casting like that) and he wore a well equipped utility vest. But what really caught him off guard was the hair. Ravalor had cut his hair off! Down to an inch. Aeven really shouldn’t feel as shocked about it, and it did look fine, pretty good even despite the unfamiliarity. And yet Aeven couldn’t help but mourn what felt like one of the last few things that had reminded him of the Ravalor he had known as a child, a precious reminder of earth; The Hermit that seemed to be now further gone than ever before.

“Commander.” Walker handed Ravalor a pair of sunglasses. Just before Ravalor actually put them on, Aeven could have sworn that for the first time since he had ever looked at Ravalor, his eyes had actually been a pretty normal pale dark blue and not pitch black (or occasionally glowing with magic) as always.

As nobody else seemed to question anything, Aeven just muttered a thoughtful “Yeah. We’re ready.” He would get used to it, surly.

They left the repository just in time to see a stranger talking to Sarah, one of the soldiers usually working the hangar and armoury. Ravalor had already put a considerable distance between them and Aeven only caught snippets of the conversation as Ravalor asked briskly what the hold up was. The stranger, apparently a wizard, spoke so quickly that Aeven couldn’t even grasp a single familiar word, which Ravalor than answered with a reference to someone with an important sounding rank and wizard name.

They were both speaking Teshvo, and despite Aeven having heard it being spoken a few times in the past (most wizards he knew had given him the courtesy of speaking a language he could understand, or at least one that could be translated on the fly) he still noticed the difference in accents of both wizards. He wondered if Ravalor’s accents only sounded so familiar because of his normal speaking rhythm, or if Ravalor actually had developed a trevanian accent in his native language. And if so, he wondered if all wizards who stayed in the same place for centuries did.

Ravalor now took out his own datatab, doing something on it and then stashing it. The stranger looked at his own tab, nodded and, as Ravalor quickly translated, told the Northman and Aeven to step back as he placed a small hovering orb in the centre of the empty space.

Manipulated by the wizard, the orb exploded into a thin ring of glimmering light that staked out a large circular space on the floor, before rising back up where the light, momentarily, disappeared.

Only seconds later a matching large circular hole appeared straight into reality, glowing fantastically and hovering about 6 metres horizontally to the ground of the hangar bay. Immediately after it was established, noises penetrated the portal, a cacophony of industrial clashing and the howling of a warbling claxon, all warped and dulled by the weird connection between the two spaces. Between the noise something was then lowered through the massive portal. Aeven quickly realised that it was the promised shuttle. It looked not at all wizard in design and starkly stood out in its surroundings. Where the Northforce was primarily designed with the smooth metal (which usually was white but would turn purplish over time) this shuttle was very crude in its design. Functional, but not made with an ounce of aesthetics in mind.

Interplanetary design, no NLS engine, boxy, asteroid peppered plating and an antenna array and cons laser that had seen its glory days half a century ago. But if anything, it fit their chosen appearance.

Once the shuttle sat firmly on the ground the glimmering crane lines that had lowered it down snapped off and were reeled back through the portal before the portal itself closed with a sizzling sound.

The stranger told Ravalor something more, looking twice back at the shuttle, before he opened a portal himself and disappeared from the hangar bay as well.

Could have borrowed something more fancy, the Northman said unimpressed. Ravalor dismissed the notion promptly,

It’s sufficient and won’t stand out. That’s all we need. Get in.

A couple of the soldiers loaded in a few small crates alongside Ravalor, Aeven, and the Northman entering the shuttle, which strained the available space already to its maximum.

So who are we? Aeven asked as Ravalor coordinated the soldiers. He tapped on the blue emblem in his chest which was the same on Ravalor’s vest.

Rotadon Dynamics is an independent ship manufacturer and reseller that works mostly for the federation, but has its seat outside its borders. We build, rent and repair ships all across the galaxy.

Is it a real company or made up?

It’s real. RD is wizard owned. It allows us to keep track of a lot of movement across the galaxy at all times.

You are tracking people? Important people? Or all of them?

Yes. Ravalor closed the doors behind the last soldier and went to the front of the shuttle.

Do they know that?

No.

Is that legal?

Ravalor scoffed seemingly reflexively, but noticing that Aeven was quite serious added flatly, No. The shuttle rumbled around them, through the view screen they saw the hangar bay evacuate.

Friends of yours then?

Work colleagues if anything. We report to the same wizard in this galaxy, but I have never worked within RD directly. The hangar bay door opened wide into space and surprisingly, without a hitch, the shuttle lifted off and left the cosy embrace of the Northforce.

Wait, you have a job?

First now Ravalor looked back at him, Try to sound not too surprised.

Sorry. Just, never occured to me. With the whole Hermit thing.

Hm. After a moment of setting up the shuttle on it’s flight path Ravalor turned around on the pilot seat.

We are going to Dinaric to evaluate a ship, the Vonderbühl, out of Dragony originally, for purchase.The ship will arrive here in about 22 hours. This is an actually existing work order so our presence here should not be questioned. We are just service technicians on an evaluation job. Your ID’s have been changed accordingly, though I kept the names to avoid unnecessary complications.

Aeven nodded, then remembering the station to be not too fond of wizards he asked, “And you are?”

“Shabin, Constantin. And your direct superior. My face is a little too well known in this galaxy, hence this…” he seemed to begrudgingly refer to his entire appearance, sunglasses included which hid the inevitable roll of the eyes his tone implied “... Sharade.”

Ravalor returned to watch their flight while Aeven and the Northman settled in for the duration. They were about an hour out from Dinaric and probably another from actually setting foot on the station based on his experience dealing with traffic and customs.

While the Northman seemed content to doze off, Aeven kept reading the information on Dinaric and especially tried to familiarise himself with its structure, architectural as well as social.

Built almost 70 years ago, ownership over the station had changed at least five times before the free station had declared independence. The only problem being that it still was very much dependent on the two planets for ressourcen, food and water, as well as specialised labour. But for as long as the two planets played along Dinaric could live its dream of independence.

Where Altrada had been truly a whole metropolis in space, Dinaric was much smaller with an estimated population of 20.000 people, half of which were usually in transit, either as visitors, traders, or contractors.

It was still a lot of people, but at this size Aeven still felt it quite possible to actually find whom they were looking for in a reasonable amount of time.

After a while he folded back his datatab and stashed it back into his utility belt. He looked briefly at the Northman, who had drifted off into a blissfully nap, and then to Ravalor, piloting the shuttle.

There were a lot of uncertainties, a lot of unknowns that would await them once they arrived at the station. But he didn’t feel nervous. If anything, with both the Northman and Ravalor with him, he felt nothing but a firm confidence that they had a damn good chance to make this right.

Like he had sensed his gaze Ravalor looked back to him. “Are you alright?”

“I am.” And then, leaning his head against the headrest, he felt a light smile on his lips. “I actually am. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“All of it.”

Ravalor stayed quiet, and it was a shame that Aeven couldn’t see his eyes, but he didn’t have to. The gratitude he felt required no validation.

*

When Aeven exited the shuttle, setting foot on Dinaric for the first time, the air was wretched. It was stuffy and smelling like several thousand people one did not want to smell. The tell tale sign of over extended air filters which worried Aeven immediately.

The station’s history of being a liberated and much glorified gas station between planets was undeniable here in the docks which made up a major part of the entire station. A low hanging mist of bluish smoke or steam hung in the air, letting the rail shuttle lines extending outward into the station appear like tentacles reaching out of the fog from dark tunnel holes, illuminated by yellow and red lights. There was something weirdly organic to this ancient looking machinery and pistons moving in an ever rhythmic heartbeat. It reminded Aeven a little of that horrible remnant they had encountered not too long ago. Just that this station was clearly man made — and showing its faults for it.

All around them machinery hissed and creaked as they left the landing pad and their shuttle was automatically parked in the array by robotic arms, ferrying the shuttle through the vacuum behind the atmospheric barrier.

With the Northman behind him he followed Ravalor through the cordon separating the landing zone from the station propper. They were asked for their identification and all three complied while Ravalor confirmed with a rough looking man the purpose of their arrival.

You’re too early, the customs officer said unhappily. The accusation in his words was strong enough to imply an unspoken demand.

Yes we are, Ravalor said, ignoring any subtext as he filled out the form handed to him. Consequently the officer became a little less subtle.

Doesn’t have to be a problem. We just need you to wait on your ship till it’s your turn.”

“Suppose we want to enter the station right now.”

“Then we would have to reshuffle the parking. That’s a lot of work.

Especially for you, I assume.

Yeah.

Aeven, while letting two of the guards scan him head to toe listened to the exchange quietly. For a moment he was worried, the concept of trying to extort a wizard seemed like a bad idea and rather concerning to him, but Ravalor just tapped through a few menus on his wrist tape and held it out to be scanned by the man.

Alright, definitely no problem here, Mr. Shabin.

Good.

Aeven, being let go from his scan, stepped up to them. Do you know if the Vonderbühl is still arriving on time? He asked the customs officer who glanced at his terminal.

Not on my schedule. Can’t say. You need to check with the harbour master’s office for that information.

Aeven nodded. Where do we find it?

Two decks up, wait I’ll give you the location. He used the terminal and a few seconds later Aeven he’d the location on his own wrist tape.

Thank you.

What’s all this? Prosthetics?

Yeah.

Aeven turned to the Northman and the guard who had been scanning him.

Choice or accident?

Stupidity. Both legs crushed on a space walk. Docking clamp failed and there was a wall, me, and a free floating shuttle. Only one of those things wasn’t made of metal — at least back then.

Ouch. The guard flinched, obviously unable to not vividly imagine the grizzly event.

Kept the dick though, so I can’t complain, the Northman added, which immediately dispersed the discomfort and made the guard chuckle.

Aeven himself felt reasonably awkward still, knowing he was playing a part and worried to mess it up. While watching both Ravalor and the Northman interact with these people he felt like neither of them shared that feeling with him. Especially watching the Northman, if he didn’t know better, he’d have believed every word he had just said.

Leaving the customs office spit them out roughly somewhere on the station’s inner midriff, and on a central level of the multi-leveled docks that covered most of Dinarics outer and inner surface area. And it was busy. Past the barrier behind them there were hundreds of ships nearly lined up and parkt - and the corresponding amount of crew and service workers was now chattering and hurrying all around them.

We should go check with the harbourmaster — make sure the ship from Hatir even got here. And maybe find out how Sigfried got here as well, Aeven suggested as they made their way through the crowd towards the lifts.

A good place to start the search, Ravalor said surprisingly tense. He looked very uncomfortable and by the way his head moved, seemingly observing the crowd surrounding them, there was nothing left of the calm confidence of just minutes earlier.

Aeven liked a crowd like this, there was a curse and a blessing in the anonymity of it. In a past life he had enjoyed the busy streets of far-off colonies for that very reason. Where nobody expected him to be there and he could find a moment to just blend into the crowd and speak with the locals.

He marvelled at a massive robotic figure of crude metal, spewing steam and wearing a glorious tophat, advertising loudly a merry slogan of the apparently very close repair shop of Dan Exo. He looked at every detail of the warm and inviting storefronts, glowing in gold and white and plastered in holographic signs, almost hiding the run down brass and rust of the metal around. The overextended air made it hard to breath and it stung in the still sore skin around his missing eye. He tried to not rub over the medical patch too much, but it became increasingly harder to withstand the urge.

It took almost 15 minutes for them to catch a lift that took them up the two levels.

Much to Ravalor’s quite noticeable relief the foot traffic up here was a lot more manageable. Still overlooking the docks openly to one side, now leading into the station there were a lot of corporate offices representing logistics, trade and construction companies, trade and insurance businesses and official stations.

Ravalor slowed down in his steps, falling naturally back next to Aeven’s left side. I don’t think we should openly ask about either of the ships we’re actually looking for, he said quietly, but still audible over the commotion from below.

What’s your plan?

Keep them engaged for a moment and I’ll see if I find an access point into the system. Ravalor stopped them and they gathered in a rather suspicious conspiratorial triangle of scheming. At least it felt that way to Aeven.

How engaged? The Northman asked almost absentmindedly as he kept watching past them over the docks. Aeven had to admit, if he’d have to rely on anyone to make a scene, it would be the Northman.

Casually. Please, Ravalor said flatly. As I mentioned, this station is rather protective when it comes to information and privacy. Getting the information we need will be risky. But, we are also benefiting from a very low level of surveillance and privatised law enforcement that is known to look the other way for the right people.

Which would also benefit those we are looking for, Aeven noted.

Ravalor gave a noncommittal shrug to that as to say that’s just how it is.

Cap, you want me to do the talking there? the Northmann finally glanced over to the Harbourmaster’s office. Jump in when you want?

Yeah, for the start. Aeven knew, and the Northman did as well, that he really wasn’t a good liar. When it came to making up stuff he rather relied on the Northman.

All three of them entered the office. It was as dingy as the rest of what they had seen this far, a good half dozen terminals glowing in the strangely thick air and only half of them occupied. A bit separated from them, granting it more importance was a larger desk with a single workstation. The woman working on it glanced up when they entered and they took it as invitation to approche the desk.

Hey, we don’t want much of your time, we just arrived and we’re waiting for a ship that’s scheduled to arrive within the next 24 hours. We just wanted to check if it is still on course. The Northman took the lead and attention, casually sitting down on the chair before the desk without invitation. Aeven couldn’t help but notice the way he did that… suspiciously seductive. But one had to admit that his current outfit was very flattering for the muscular build. Ship’s name is the Vonderbühl.

You’re from RD? She asked, already typing something on the terminal, Aeven looked for a name tag but found none.

Yeah. There was a little rescheduling, so we’re a little early.

She nodded and smiled politely, and something about that made the Northman change his posture. Away from the courting to a more business-like approach in a way that felt perfectly organic.

In the meanwhile Aeven cursed the way he stood right now because he could no longer easily see Ravalor on his right side, at least not without turning his head or body. As inconspicuous as possible he took a step to the side, turning a bit, seemingly to watch the rest of the office idly.

The Vonderbühl will arrive as scheduled based on their last transmission, the harbour master said with a finality that could have ended the conversation.

Great. For a second the Northman seeme to get up but then dropped down. While we’re here, just another brief question, if you don’t mind, ma’am?

She did look eager to get back to work but the patented North-Charm was slowly working its magic. Of course.

Ravalor seemed perfectly still, standing straight with his hands held behind his back. Aeven saw the light glow on the tips of Ravalor’s right fingers and, without moving too much, tried to see what he was doing. But there was nothing obvious.

As you can imagine there is currently a higher than usual demand for ships, so, between you and me, we’re pretty much authorised to buy any ship we deem worth it, the Northman said, leaning back causally. The terminal before her gave a low ping but before she could have looked the Northman said, I don’t know how this is handled here, but is there a chance to get a full list of the ships and the people I would need to talk to, to buy from them?

The Harbour master scoffed ever so mildly, too polite to show outright contempt. I’m very sorry sir, but that won’t be possible.

I suspected as much. Is there any other way how we could get a grasp on that kind of information? Not in the illegal sense— the Northman added quickly with an engaging laugh. But like a bar, or board where people looking to sell would be.

If you keep to the lower docks you will find people like that. But you should be careful waving around that kind of corporate money.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye he saw a little movement on the floor and caught it just in time to see what at first he thought to be a spider skitter over Ravalor’s shoe. It only had four legs and the light shimmer on the top of its body clearly gave it’s magical origin away, but Aeven had not much time to watch it as it disappeared in the folds of Ravalor’s overall.

Aye. Noted. Thanks a bunch. The Northman glanced back to Ravalor, Eh, that’s everything isn’t it? Do we need anything else?

No. We’re good, Ravalor said briskly.

Great! The Northman stood up. Again thanks for the help, ma’am.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay!”

“Thank you, I’m sure we will.”

Then they left the office, and Aeven felt a weird tingling in the pit of his stomach. And he supposed it was the mild thrill of getting away with a crime — which made him seriously question the whole “You’re now a very good guy” thing North and Ravalor had been on about after his Bowl of Good incident.

He however had not much time to ponder the thought.

They had just stepped back onto the walkway overseeing the docks, Ravalor was about to say something, as suddenly a massive explosion shook the station to its core.

Aeven as the only one facing the docks directly saw the massive fireball bloom for just a moment, ripping apart the inside of the station across from them, before muscle memory of years in the military kicked-in in an instant and without thinking about it he grabbed both the Northman (who hadn’t even turned around yet) and Ravalor (who already had committed to the same idea) and tore them from their feet into the cover of the railing.

Not a moment too soon as a shotgun blast of debris tore into the entire station around them. A hail of thousands of metal pieces shredded deafeningly into the metal and railing, making sparks and shrapnell rain upon them as the bright lights of the office storefronts exploded.

Shattered glass tore into the skin of his arms as he kept them up, shielding his face, along the noise the station alarms started to rise, and screams started to overtake the chaos.

“Fucking hell…” the Northman groand and was the first to rise up again as the bombardment stopped, hesitatingly both Aeven and Ravalor followed. “What was that?”

“Something blew up right over there.” Aeven felt his heart racing in his chest. He had to raise his voice against a dozen alarms blared simultaneously all around them, warning of fire, temporary oxygen and pressure loss, impact and tremor, even break-in alarms as the storefronts behind them had been shot to pieces. “Are you two alright?”

The Northman nodded, Ravalor didn’t but instead looking at the stills smouldering hole in the station across from them, said, “That was part of the ship storage.”

5 Regroup

A pleasant voice added to the blaring alarms, betraying its urgency with an eternal soothing calmness, informing them that the docks were now in lockdown and everyone was asked to remain calm.

Nobody seemed to hear it, or if they did the message was just arsenine to them. There was still shouting and crying, Aeven quickly looked around, seeing several people on the ground that hadn’t been so lucky to find cover in time.

“We need to help them!” he said as he already was running over to a man who’s right side had been shredded by shrapnel. “Get them away from the buildings!”

The overpowering voice repeated the order to remain calm. His wristtab chimed in a belated emergency alert, telling him of the local lockdown again.

Aeven fell to his knees next to the man, he was bleeding badly but the expression on his face told Aeven that he was still very much in shock and had not yet realised how bad he was off. “Hey, can you hear me. What’s your name?”

The man stared at him wide eyed as Aeven took out the foldable knife from his utility beld and cut open the mans own overall. He was bleeding at several points. Badly at a particular nasty cut near his shoulder. From within the pouch that held his own antiseptic cream for his eye he pulled a small spraybotte of WiGo and used it to keep the worst of the bleeding at bay till he could be properly treated and the shrapnel removed. Stay right here alright, help is on the way.

Aeven, are you alright? You’re bleeding. Suddenly there was Ravalor beside him too, a hand on his shoulder.

Yes, but I’m fine. Please go help the others too! He said firmly, first now really noticing his bleeding arms. It looked bad, but not bad enough to waste any of what precious little of the magical first aid spray he had on himself while there were people dying around him. You said I’m immoral now, right?

In theory, Ravalor pressed through gritted teeth, I still would prefer to not be proven wrong on that.

Briefly their eyes met, Aeven understood that Ravalor was genuinely worried for him, so he didn’t try to downplay it. I’ll call out for you if I start feeling light headed or anything, alright?

Ravalor nodded briskly and stood up. Leaving towards one of the by now burning offices.

Aeven’s heart sank as the next person he got to he quickly realised was already dead, a large piece of metal that had been shot across the docks had pierced their chest. They had suffocated on their own blood.

A young woman stumbled before him, a bleeding wound on her head. Quickly he steadied her, guiding her away from the window and office front before sitting her down at the railing. He told her to stay there sitting and not move too much, she most likely had a concussion.

He heard the loud raspy voice of the Northman evacuating the crumbling buildings with the gentleness of a drill instructor, suiting the urgency of the situation.

The burning building further down the walkway suddenly was doused in a white mist and Ravalor emerged from it again — Aeven had to assume some damages had prevented the fire suppression to kick in automatically.

He rose up again and saw a rotund man that had come quickly closer.

“Are you a medic?” The man asked.

“No, just an ex-soldier. Are you alright?” Aeven asked quickly, scanning the man from head to toe. He was wide eyed and sweating — but seemed otherwise alright.

“By the grace of our mother Twilight I am, but is there anything I can do to help?” He asked quickly, obviously not wanting to waste any time. Aeven highly appreciated that.

“Absolutely, thank you. Can you stay with these people here on the railing? She has most likely a concussion, make sure she doesn’t pass out and hit the floor again. If she lets you maybe lay her down. Alright? What’s your name?”

“Will do! And it’s Bill.”

“Thanks, Bill, I’m Aeven.”

He saw the Northman carry a person out of one of the buildings and waved him over. “North, over here!”

Another younger voice got his attention. “I can help too! I’m a nurse in training.” The girl looked still very young but at second glance Aeven noted the pointy ears. He had given up guessing the age of people with elfish ancestry. “I’m Nessa.”

“Very well Nessa, you go further down that direction, I will be over here, people that can be moved or still can move should gather near the railing away from the buildings. Cover the dead and mark the wounded. Find them someone to stay with them when they are passed out or unable to speak. Okay?”

“I can do that!”

“Thank you.”

First 30 minutes later first responders finally arrived on the level, by then they had moved almost everyone they had found near the railings, while more and more of those still able to walk and talk had come and joined them.

In the busying of the medics and guards moving in Ravalor quickly moved them out of the limelight. We should get out of here. I don’t think we have the time to stick around.

There’s a lockdown, Aeven reminded him, looking back briefly to see the medics reach the group of survivors they had gathered at the railings.

Aware. From the information I have there’s a flop house in the Shallows RD had used here before. We should go there, Ravalor said as he shoved them down a very tight alleyway and out of view of the main boulevard leading deeper into the station. Soon they stood before a firmly locked blast door.

Breach? The Northman asked, with a jest that spoke of a man knowing that his suggestion was about to be shut down immediately.

Ravalor didn’t even entertain the idea with more than a frown before turning to the emergency override box and opened it.

Yo, Shabin, the Northman said and there’s a small metal chip to Ravalor who caught it without a hitch. Guard ID, picked it up back there.

Appreciated.

The scanner beeped and asked for a confirmation code. Ravalor didn’t even hesitate, pulling a back plating from the panel and letting his fingers run over the cables behind. With a glow of his fingers a small bubble of glowing magic appeared at the tip of his finger and encased one of the cables, keeping it and Ravalor’s finger connected. Only three seconds later the panels gave a satisfied chime and the door opened. It didn’t close again, in fact as Ravalor took away his hand the panel died down and the door appeared completely inoperable.

From there they quickly rejoined the main boulevard and found their way to the rail shuttles. Half of them were cancelled, presumably every one leading to the docks, but the ones to the shallows were still running. There was a nervous tension in the air, a whispering of conspiracy theories and hopefully wildly exaggerated casualty numbers.

The rail shuttle ride was in comparison eerily quiet. Eyes hung on the news cast playing along the top of the rounded walls. Smoke still rose in the artificial atmosphere. Debris flew dangerously in the hollow vacuum, still entering the barriers here and there and crashing into the docks. All the news knew was nothing more than Aeven knew. Something in the ship’s storage had exploded.

Once they reached and exited the transport station of Shallows Primary, Aeven’s unspoken question about the name’s origins was pretty much obvious. The celling’s height was maybe 2,1 metres, 2,2 at best with some change as illustrated very well by the Northman who now took on a hunched over posture to avoid bumping his head. He’d have had a few centimetres of room above but even Aeven felt the instinct to hunch. Ravalor in the meanwhile walked as straight as always, despite the magboots they all wore adding easily 4 centimetres to their height he seemed eerily certain that he wouldn’t bump his head.

There weren’t as many people here as there had been at the docks, but the claustrophobic tightness of the vertical space made it feel a lot more packed. Where the docks had been filled with offices and mechanical services, everyone who worked and lived down here did so for those who didn’t, offering quick and cheap food and shelter for the people in transit.

Over here, Ravalor said like he wanted to make sure neither Aeven or the Northman suddenly got lost behind him.

The flop house Ravalor had mentioned really was something. As someone trying to see the beauty in all things Aeven had to admit he struggled with this one. But maybe exactly that was its charm. It was old, run down and advertised vacancy. It was no more and no less than it needed to be.

Inside it was surprisingly tidy and clean, as much as it was possible. There was only so much cleaning and homely decorating could do to make up for old and cracking paint and rust tears bleeding down the walls. An old woman half their height and with a messy bun of white thin hair, introduced herself as Marka and greeted them. She recognised them as RD employees and offered them the regular place (with their special RD loyalty discount!) which Ravalor agreed upon.

Do you come from the docks? What happened there? She asked warily, noticing the blood on them as Ravalor sent the door key to both the Northman and Aeven.

We don’t know much more than anyone else, Ravalor said flatly while the Northman leaned against the counter, joining Marka for a moment watching the news screen and reading the banners.

Terrorist attack? He asked openly with a glance from the news headline to the old woman.

That’s what some say. But it’s just speculation. Probably been an accident. She shook her head. I suspect this won’t make your job easier.

The Northman chuckled driely. You can say that. Docks are in lock down. Could take a while till we’d even be able to leave.

You can stay as long as you need, she assured them. If you need any of those clothes cleaned you can give them to me, won’t get rid of the stains but at least the smell. And there will be Bog-Spätz this evening, do you want me to bring you some bowls too?

That does sound lovely—“

Are you coming? Ravalor called them and Aeven realised he had already left to get to their room.

We’ll take some if we’re around by then, the Northman prommissed Marka with a grin and two hearty knocks on the counter as he stood up, then he and Aeven followed Ravalor.

*

The moment they entered their 4-bed-1-room apartment Ravalor turned on the news screen and as Aeven closed the door behind them he said,

I don’t think this is a coincidence.

I feared you’d say that, Aeven admitted as they joined Ravalor at the small, bolted-onto-the-wall table in the room. He took a deep breath, easing himself into the expected whiplash as they now settled into a moment of peace and quiet. The adrenaline faded slowly away, leaving an all-to-familiar slight shaking in his fingertips. His new body reacted just as it always had.

Ravalor took out his folded datab from the pockets of his utility belt and laid it flat on the table — promptly a bright hologram appeared before them displaying a list of ship names. The data he had gotten from the harbour master’s office.

This one, CTB-A3, that’s the transport that came from Hatir. It arrived on Dinaric yesterday and departed shortly after back to Hatir. But that’s not what concerns me right now. I looked for small crafts too, single pilot up to five persons from Dragony. In the last three days. There were two matches — but this one, a single person shuttle. One entry lit up. It was parked in the grid, at AH-25 to BK-29 a low resolution map of the storage grid showed up marking the position of the ship. And by what we’ve seen, this a large sphere overlayed with the grid. Is the explosion that just happened.

In its exact centre, there was the parking spot of the shuttle.

It doesn’t mean it had to be his, right. There was another match?

That’s where it gets even odder. The second match was also a one person shuttle of the same type, it was logged as arrival before the second one here, but cancelled soon after. Officially, it never arrived at the station. Could be a filing error.

Riiight, The Northman hummed. He had his arms crossed watching Ravalor.

The shuttle’s owner entered the station anonymously, probably by paying someone off. However, by this information alone it will very quickly be connected to Dragony. If this shuttle really belonged to Sigfried, we won’t be the only ones looking for him very soon.

Have you found anything on the child?

Probably our only lead at this point, the two names given at transport and when they entered the station. Ravalor nodded. There aren’t many children on this station, even fewer coming and going. So unless they smuggled him out, based on the data I have now, Jeshua is still on this station. There were no infants listed on any of the shipping manifests leaving the station since their arrival.

A baby on a station where there usually are no babies is going to be hard to hide. Assuming they are keeping him alive, the Northman said. I could go out there, putting an ear out.

Not a bad idea. I should try to find a way to get some way into security. There aren’t many cameras around but it’s a chance.

Aeven wanted to say something, suggesting to help either of them, but before he could Ravalor said, You should clean up. Make sure your wounds are treated.

Aeven blinked, he had completely forgotten about the cuts on his own arms and back. Back at the dock they had stung a little, but now he didn’t feel them at all anymore. Between all the blood on his hands and sleeves it was hard to even see them. But Ravalor was right, of the three he was looking the worse, and whatever he did next he probably was better off not looking like he had just viciously killed someone with his bare hands.

Yeah, alright.

*

The flop house had one shared bathroom, with one of those horrible high powered mist showers most common on stations and ships that had to manage their water. The whole experience wasn’t exactly enjoyable, and Aeven yearned to just rinse his arms and hair under a stream of water, but as it was the fine water-saving mist was all he got. It did its job, on an acceptable level, but he never felt really clean afterwards. And to make matters worse, the mist stung uncomfortably against his right eye socket.

While letting himself be basically high-pressure washed by the hot steam, and the blood was cleaned from his arms, he was given a moment of pause as he looked at his hands and arms.

There were no injuries. Not even the faintest scratch where he absolutely knew had been deep slashes just an hour ago. They had been there, they had hurt. And now they were gone. Just like the wound on his stomach had disappeared. The shower mist stopped abruptly and immediately he was blasted with suffocatingly hot hair that stung even more in his eye and almost pulled him from his feet. This sure wasn’t a comfort level shower. Reflexively he brushed his hair back and held it there — otherwise this treatment would leave him with an absolute mess on his head.

After the shower and getting properly blow dried he took a moment to apply the cream from Teseni on the sore skin of his right eye. Directly looking at it still gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Without the volume of the missing eye all the eyelids were almost closed, still looking considerably reddened. Behind them, nothing but the dark hollow.

He withstood the urge to rub his eye, or blink, or do anything his brain still wanted to believe would actually make the unfamiliar darkness on his right side go away. Logically he knew it wouldn’t work, but the impulse was still very strong.

He shuddered, for a moment failing again to recognize the image he saw as part of his own face. Carefully he applied a fresh gauze to the eye to keep it at least somewhat protected from the scruffy air in the station.

The door opened and Aeven flinched in surprise, having forgotten about the whole shared bathroom thing. But it was just the old woman, Marka.

Your colleague asked me to bring you these directly. She said blissfully unfazed by Aeven’s stark nakedness. And since she didn’t seem to mind, Aeven chose not to do either.

Thank you, that was quick. He took the small pile from Marka and put them on the side, starting to dress himself promptly. Marka was about to leave again as she halted in the door.

They have released a list of ships destroyed during the explosion. You should make sure yours is fine. She noted. There was one RD affiliated one listed.

Oh, Aeven said, slipping into his shirt. I didn’t even think of that. That’s probably been ours. But naturally, by apparently having spend to much time alongside wizards, he failed to worry too much about it. Instead he asked, What are the casualty numbers so far?

A lot of injured people and a few dead from the debris. But nobody died in the initial explosion. The ship storage is fully automated.

That’s a relief. He put on the overall. Have they lifted the lockdown yet?

No. They are looking for witnesses, she said.

We really haven’t seen anything. We were on the other side.

She nodded with a slim smile and left him alone again.

*

This station is horrible, Ravalor said perfectly flatly, his face, even while finally having taken off the sunglasses, was not showing any sign of irritation beyond the normal frown — and yet Aeven knew Ravalor had to be impressively annoyed by the simple fact that he had even voiced this annoyance.

Why is that? Aeven asked as he fully entered their room again.

Instead of directly answering, Ravalor reached down and removed a floor panel which Aeven was very sure ought to be bolted shut. Beneath there was an absolute intense mass of cables running in every direction.

Oh wow. Looks messy. Aeven acknowledged with the unshakable confidence of utter ignorance.

Thirty percent of these aren’t even connected anymore, another thirty are only running simple analogue signals - even worse at that because it appears to be plainly simple binary yes or no checks being send around. There isn’t even any proper wireless connection here besides the emergency channel and that one is completely isolated from anything of use. Probably connected to a plain switch they pull instead of any proper monitoring system. There are a few com lines that go through here, but I didn’t get anything of use out of it this far. Ravalor nodded to a panel on the desk where apparently a couple of soundwaves were being processed.

I’m increasingly impressed and unsettled by the casualness with which you do this, Aeven noted as he sat down while Ravalor shoved the floor panel back into place. North’s going to contact us once he finds anything?

That’s the idea. But I told him to keep his hands off the local com. I’ll implore you to do the same. Use your writstap if we get seperated, it relays through the Northforce via the portnet. The local network may be isolated and irritatingly limited, but definitely not secure. Ravalor looked back up at him. His eyes really were a dark grey blue now. And it looked absolutely real.

Obviously. So until then, what are we two going to do? I mean we need to do something. And it doesn’t sound like this here is getting you anything this far, Aeven said, tangentially aware he held eye contact a bit too intensely. But it looked so real. Sure there were some impressive contact lenses around, and even operations to change one’s eye colour (though not without risk as he had heard) but he doubted the former was the case here and the latter didn’t fit the timeframe.

“—security station.”

Aeven blinked. “Come again?”

I said, the security of the station has its central base of operations up in the spearhead district. With our corporate background we will be able to go there without being questioned, however, I can’t deny a certain trepidation considering that option.

 I gather, going there and inquiring about it is completely out of the question? I mean I know you said there is corruption, but would that go so far as to allow something like that to happen? Aeven nodded to the still running news screen.

Hard to say. But it is a risk. We should consider this option of approach once we have no other way of moving forward.

Aeven wristab as well as Ravalor’s datatab gave a low ping. Next the Northman’s voice could be headed between a loud mumbling if a crowd.

Guys — not sure if this is something, but I just heard that there was allegedly gunfire heard in an apartment block across the ehh Brunnen memorial? Some decks up I think. Police and medics ain’t responding because of the docks situation. The woman who told me was adamant that it is quite unusual — apparently people don’t get shot here as often as one would assume. At least she seemed pretty outraged about it.

What makes you think it’s related? Ravalor asked.

Gut feeling. If the docks thing wasn’t an accident it would be a good diversion to do a couple other things in the chaos. Maybe just someone taking advantage of the moment, maybe not. The eternally calm shrug was adible in his voice alone.

He’s right, we should check it out, especially if station security isn’t showing up yet. Aeven said. Even if it’s not related, we might be able to help.

Indeed. Northman, can you meet us there?

Sure.

6 Murder

The Brunnen memorial was three decks up from the flop house and decorated a small recreational square that appeared perfectly out of place in the cramped environment. At least the ceiling was considerably higher here.

A group of people had gathered before the complex, sheepishly glancing up at the rows of apartment units. The Northman was nowhere to be seen.

Excuse me, Aeven said, grabbing the attention of the small group closest to them. Gunshots were reported here. Can you tell us where exactly?

Who are you? A man asked very unhelpfully.

All primary first responders are currently unavailable. We have medical training. We can help! Aeven said with full conviction. Ravalor had reasonably insisted they didn’t publicly present the RD logos for this excursion, so they had picked up two hooded jackets of local fashion on their way here. Consequently, they didn’t look very official anymore, blending in a lot more with the present people and so the man wasn’t fully convinced they were to be trusted. However, a man next to him said,

Up on the fourth floor. But you should be careful. They might still be there. We ran when the shooting started, but most just locked themselves in. I hope they are okay.

Thank you!

Aeven went back to Ravalor. What about North? Maybe he’s already inside?

No, he isn’t here yet. Do you want to wait?

I don’t think we should.

When they entered the complex, Ravalor was right next to him on his left. He first spoke again when they entered the elevator.

Try to stay out of the line of fire if it comes to it.

I know I haven’t exactly given you that impression this far, and I acknowledge that, but I am normally not suicidally disposed, Aeven assured Ravalor, overplaying his own tension with the joke. Ravalor, however, didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

I mean: if you get shot now, the Hammer will react to protect you, and that would absolutely break our cover.

Ohhh, and here I thought you were worried about me.

I am.

Aeven smiled, glancing at Ravalor. I know, I’m just messing with you.

I know. Ravalor, whose expression to the untrained eyes hadn’t changed sounded to Aeven undeniably more soft than usual. A decisively pleasant reaction, Aeven decided.

Then, as the elevator reached the third floor, he took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the tension and focus on it. There was value in the banter before any dangerous situation. But also in knowing when to focus. Because Ravalor was right. As far as they knew there still could be armed people on this very floor. He readied his rifle almost at the same time Ravalor pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip.

The doors opened to absolute silence on the fourth floor, bare the low hum of the ventilation.

Both of them stayed perfectly silent, carefully advancing into the corridor. It wasn’t the first time Aeven was in a situation like this, not even the first time alongside a wizard, but it was the first time that the warrior at his side was Ravalor. But the way he moved was instantly familiar to him. Every step was taken with intent; there was no hesitation, just absolute awareness of the space around him. It made him feel instantly much more safe.

Aeven himself noticed at least two cameras on the ceiling, and he knew they’d have to take care of that in some way.

About 40 metres before them, only one door stood open. Ravalor signed him to stop. For a moment, he just seemed to listen. Then he said quietly, There is movement in the other apartments, but not in that one. However, there is blood in the air, so stay alert. Ravalor lowered one hand, pulling a dark fabric from his pocket. “Put this one.”

Aeven caughed the black beanie hat.

“I don’t want your DNA all over a potential crime scene,” Ravalor said as Aeven already did as he was told.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

They continued, Ravalor took point, and as they reached the open door, he was also the first to enter.

Clear. One deceased.

Aeven followed.

It was dark, and he’d have had a hard time confirming Ravalor’s claim. But he could also smell the blood now. Out of habit, instead of looking for a light switch he turned on the flashlight of his rifle. He had to appreciate Ravalor’s foresight, insisting on the hat and gloves, because he rather not incriminate himself (nor his galaxy’s counterpart) at the scene of a crime. Which this definitely was.

Aeven’s light fell onto the body on the floor.

A man, middle-aged, his clothes were similar to what Aeven had seen the people wear outside; this man too looked like he had been just coming or going, just that the five bullet wounds across his torso had ended any such intentions. Aeven kneeled down, carefully looking for any kind of identification, but with no success.

Hmm.

What? Ravalor was already searching the room and now came over.

Can’t find any ID, but I don’t think he belongs here. All his clothes seem brand new. And … he smells wrong. Aeven said with a light frown. Bergamot… and rose, not artificial. I think. Hard to tell over the stench. It was a smell he associated more with his royal life in the citadel, with perfumes of the noble ladies, that of his mother too, and it tore on those memories. It still hurt.

Ravalor let his hand hover over the body as if trying to sense anything beyond the visible. Then, reaching underneath the man’s shirt, he pulled out a small data tab. “Hm.”

“What?” Aeven watched Ravalor lean over the dead body like he was about to perform too late CPR on him. But then he just looked into the man’s face, using his fingers to open up his eyelids further.

“What are you doing?” Aeven reformulated his previous inquiry while Ravalor took the man’s hand, pressing his index and middle finger as well as the thumb against that of the dead man.

“It’s encrypted and locked,” Ravalor finally said. Now pressing his thumb on the tablet and, after a moment, holding it up to his face. His eyes were no longer blue but a muddy dark green. Just like those of the dead man.

Fascinated, Aeven watched as the data tab unlocked effortlessly, faltering to the magic of the wizard.

“How do you do that?” he asked, aware that it was hardly the time, but he was well aware that Ravalor was able to do more than one thing at once.

“What do you mean?” Ravalor asked and even looked up, revealing once more the eyes of the dead man before them.

“Your eyes.”

Ravalor took a breath, ready to speak but then paused. For a brief moment, in a moment of what seemed to be genuine realisation or even surprise, his frown eased. It was just a second before it returned twice as strong, drawing a deep line in between his eyebrows when he answered and looked back down to the tab: “It’s just magic.”

“Well, that I figured.”

Ravalor looked back up, his frown turning almost desperate. And with absolute clarity, Aeven understood that Ravalor would have. But it wasn’t his decision. Aeven was not supposed to know. So without missing a beat, Aeven asked, “Alright, who is he then?”

Ravalor seemed only short of sighing in relief, His name is Volker vonVogel

That’s a name.

He’s a consultant of the Gauner Coolision, the armed forces of Felony.

That sounds like a problem.

Probably. There isn’t much else in the room either— he didn’t seem to have been long here. There are no personal belongings and barely any fingerprints and none of those aren’t his.” Ravalor stood up and stashed vonVogel’s tab in his vest pocket.

“We should get out of here. But first, we need to find the security station for this complex. Maybe the cameras saw something useful. I also don’t want us to be connected to this.

Me neither. Aeven stood up. Have you found anything?

Some DNA data I want to get checked once we’re out of here. Also, the weapon used was a Model V Jona Tempora, probably the 23.44 or 45 variant by the force of the impact holes on the walls. High quality polymer bullets, 10mm. Not a cheap option.

How on earth did you get all that from the impact marks on the walls? Aeven asked baffled as they reentered the corridor, still carefully watching their surroundings.

The 10mm rounds are a fringe modification not many of the commonly traded guns support, furthermore, the firing power of the 23.44 variant was its major selling point in some circles as it far exceeded any standard safety regulation when it comes to using it in space faring crafts or structures. It was consequently banned in most states within the federation. The same happened to the follow up variant which even exceeded the previous power output. The 46 reduces its power output again to become suitable for mass production again, but the 44 and 45 have become a staple of many gun enthusiasts as well as collectors. It is not an ordinary mod-rifle and there are not many of it left in circulation. This is a very peculiar gun to choose.

Aeven slightly shook his head and couldn’t help a disbelieving brief chuckle as Ravalor ended his monologue by the time they had reached the elevator. He caught Ravalor’s puzzled look and added another, now more dismissive shake of the head.

Guess I just found out why the ship is so over equipped with firepower.”

Hm, Ravalor murmured noncommittally as they entered the elevator again. Let’s try the sublevel for the cameras. Ravalor pushed the button and both went back to the left and right of the door.

There’s probably someone there, right?

Probably. Ravalor watched the floor indicator.

We’re going to talk to them first, right? Aeven added tensely.

It would be preferable to leave no witnesses.

Ravalor—“

I don’t mean killing them. We just have to be careful.

Oh okay.

The elevator door opened on the sublevel—

A shot boomed in the small corridor, audibly ricocheting between the metal panels and Aeven immediately pressed himself even more tightly against the wall, barely suppressing a curse of surprise.

“So much for that,” Ravalor muttered.

That was a warning shot! an unsteady voice shouted. I saw you snooping about with the body! I don’t know who you are, but I already called the GPD! You should go now! They will be here any second!

Aeven met Ravalor’s eyes.

Doubtful, Ravalor said quietly. The lines are still down.

We’re here to help! Aeven shouted back. We’ve trying to figure out what happened. The GPD is completely overwhelmed with the docks situation. They aren’t coming.

Hesitating silence.

Who are you??

We’re looking for a friend of ours. He’s missing and we think the murder upstairs might be related. Aeven waited for a moment for a response, as it didn’t come he added, We mean you no harm. We just want to have a look at the security footage to find out who did this. I’m going to step out now, okay?

Guns first!

Both of them complied without much hesitation, because of course when push came to shove, neither of them would need them. Aeven’s rifle and Ravalor’s pistol slid across the floor.

Alright. Step up then.

Ravalor naturally pushed himself forward first, and for a tense second, Aeven fully expected him to get shot.

The man now holding them at gunpoint appeared in the open doorway across from them. The gun trembled ever so slightly in his hand. Aeven had to assume that maybe the Northman had been right, the man looked terrified and not at all used to a situation like this.

Are you the security guard here? Aeven asked, stopping alongside Ravalor halfway through the corridor. They stood almost exactly above their guns again, which only spoke to the man’s blue-eyed approach.

Janitor, The man said, But I am taking care of the system too.

What’s your name? Aeven didn’t smile, but he kept his face open and neutral. The gun was still pointed unsteadily at the both of them, wavering. And Aeven noticed very well that Ravalor’s whole body seemed tensed up like a bow string pulled to its limits, just ready to snap into motion. He feared for the man’s life should that happen.

Bernard. Keppler.

Alright Bernard. Can we see the footage? We’ll get lost after that. He promised.

Over there. Bernard waved the gun to his left. After you.

He let them pass him way too close and they could have disarmed him easily. But they just went down the corridor and into the room Bernard pointed them to.

Calling it a security room would be a bit of a stretch, but there were a few displays rotating through an array of cameras and a central workstation they seemed to connect to. They arrived at an rather awkward stillstand with Bernad still behind them and Aeven and Ravalor in the middle of the room.

Are you going to show us or am I free to look? Ravalor eventually asked calmly. Bernard could not show them the files without turning his back on them. And he realised that too.

I’m keeping an eye on you. Go ahead. It’s camera 16 and 17.

Ravalor just nodded curtly, despite the fact that this was undoubtedly exactly what he wanted.

If I see you fucking with any of that I will shoot you.

Aeven glanced back at the man as he stepped up to Ravalor, who was already seated at the workstation. It was hard to say if he really would, but he would rather not escalate the situation either way.

The video on two of the panels switched to a playback, rushing forward in time. Unseen by Bernad, there was a gleam in Ravalor’s eyes, and Aeven suspected he was looking at a whole lot more than what they saw.

“The man that was shot, has he been long here?” Aeven asked.

“No. Just a day or two. Fixed the overhead light just last week, before he moved in,” Bernard answered tensely.

On the screen the video slowed down as an armed man entered the corridor.

Huh.

The resolution was a lot better than it was on the distant security footage they had of the shuttle boarding. The man who had entered the corridor and now knocked on the door of the dead man upstairs was Sigfried — or at least, someone who looked very much just like him, Aeven thought, clinging to the idea still.

On the screen Sigfried kicked open the door the moment it got opened just a little bit, then the door frame was illuminated by the gunfire. After a moment he left the room and walked back down the corridor, for a moment directly meeting the camera’s eye. A deep and dark frown on the young face still marked by blood splatters.

I think I’ve seen that man before. Do you know him? Bernard asked.

No, Ravalor said flatly. I’m afraid this might be unrelated after all. There was a distinct bitterness in his voice, making even Aeven almost believe it was true for a moment.

Oh.. okay.

Aeven turned to the man. Thank you, though. For letting us see this. Will you be alright here? Do you need anything?

Less gun crazed psychopaths in my house, Bernard said twitchy. But the gun was now lowered. Just go.

Alright. He heard Ravalor stand up behind him.

Again under Bernard’s weary stare they left the room.

Hurry up and keep your head low, Ravalor muttered as he hurried his steps.

What did you do? They picked up their guns mid-stride and were quickly at the elevator again. Ravalor first answered when the door closed.

I erased every visual of that man on the video and us. The cameras are on a loop now, covering our exit. We won’t avoid eye witnesses, but it will give us a little more time. I hope.

Aeven nodded and raised his wrist to send a quick message to the Northman: North, if you’re still on the way, don’t. We got what we needed, and we’re getting out of here now. Meet us at the flop house.

We should try to find a back entrance, Ravalor suggested.

Yeah.

*

They arrived back at the flop house without being stopped. However, the Northman had not yet returned there.

When Aeven tried to call him, he was ignored. First moments later, he got a message back reading, Can’t talk. Busy. All good.

What on earth is he up to? Aeven muttered while Ravalor was already back at his makeshift workstation. He followed him there and sat down as well, watching Ravalor load the information they had just gotten to the tab.

The news screen was running on the wall, and by now, Aeven assumed Ravalor was passively scanning everything broadcast there. They had moved on from calling it an accident. Now, it was an attack. They had identified the ship in question as the one-man shuttle from Dragony. But if they already knew whom it possibly belonged to, they didn’t say.

What do you make of this? Aeven eventually asked into the silence.

 I think we stumbled into something we don’t have enough information on to understand yet. I need to check this against some other information — It will take only a little time.

Aeven nodded grimly. You said… It could be a wizard. How does that work? He looks just like Sigfried.

He does look very similar. But without clearer footage, I can’t say if it’s similar enough. Ravalor agreed without answering anything of the question. First, after a little while, he added, seemingly quite reluctantly:

Wizards can change their appearance. Not on the fly, mind you, but there is the possibility that this is a wizard. However, before we know for certain, there is nothing I can or should do with this suspicion.

Why?

Assuming it’s not a normal look-alike, so worst cases: Either this is actually Sigfried and there is something happening we don’t know. Or it is a chaos wizard trying to sow havoc. In that case I’d need to report it immediately. But I shouldn’t do it on a hunch, because it would risk the safety of the entire station.

Wait hold on. So he kidnaps Sigfried, takes his likeness, replaces him, and makes him commit murder? Aeven couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it possible. But even all his outrage didn’t put Ravalor on the defensive. If anything he looked nothing but tired as he met Aeven’s stare.

Yes.

But why?

Ravalor shrugged. Raising the hologram of a set of three pictures. A young man, an old man wearing a wide brimmed hat, and a young woman. Aeven recognized two of the persons shown.

These three we encountered during the last months, dealing with Hatir and Tyr —” that was the young black haired man Admiral Bróden had apprehended. “— then on Altrada, Northman saw this one — Ravalor pointed at the old man, — and at Nolava.” The young woman from the security footage. “But I suspected till now they are all the same wizard.

Ravalor, what does that even mean? Aeven sighed almost ready to accept that there would be again a bunch of wizard-y things he would just have to accept.

A wizard, generally, is one entity composed of several Parts. You’ve so far met three of mine. The Hermit on earth, the Kingmaker on Nolava, and me, the Warrior. They are all part of who you refer to as Ravalor. But, a wizard’s parts don’t all have to look alike. It’s mildly beneficial for cohesion between the parts to look the same, but I could have a Part that looks just like you or the Northman.

Aeven stayed baffledly silent. This was completely new to him, but with all he had seen this far, and the strange feeling that still lingered within him since the encounter with that strange bowl, it made sense. All of it suddenly made sense. He would be hard pressed to define all in this context, but it made sense.

That’s what the beard is about! he finally concluded.

Yes. You met the Kingmaker on Nolava because that is where I live and work. As the Kingmaker. But it’s not just a difference in hair. These three could be part of the very same wizard. Maybe this Siegfried here is too.

But why? To what goal?

Not sure yet. I suspected us to be the primary victim of his interference but as it turned out — this wizard, at least two of these, have been spotted all over in the federation. And I think that is the very reason the war has escalated. Realising that — I inquired a lot further and it appears the same wizard did the same in your empire.

...the war?

Yes. It was orchestrated. Look, he raised, report after report, image after image I had a couple Scryers look into it, and these faces have been found in surveillance and observational footage all over the Empire, he looked back to Aeven. They have never been linked to direct attacks and so they never rose to attention, but they all appeared in places where sooner or later, things turned bad. Really bad. But— his frown deepened. Only in the last decades. Now the same is happening here and we’re right in the middle of it. Just a lot more blazingly.

This is not a coincidence. This wizard, be it one or three or even four, wants us to know who they are, and that they have been right under our nose for a long time. Otherwise they would have changed faces already. But why, I can not say.

Aeven frowned, looking at the four faces: the old man, the woman, the young wizard, and Sigfried.

How can one wizard cause an entire empire to go to war?

...it’s what wizards do, Ravalor mumbled, seemingly more to himself. As he noted Aeven’s questioning look, he raised his voice. It’s what we’ve always done. We watch over you, mortals, we observe, and sometimes we influence your path in time. This wizard might have been an Envoy before. One of those that would take part in your history and shape it.

Aeven felt a cold shudder running down his spine. You deliberately cause wars?

If it’s necessary. Yes.

Necessary? What a horrible word in this context. Aeven felt the knee-jerk reaction to oppose it. Ravalor had said it so plainly, just so stoically like he always did, it was hard to find any moral judgement in it.

Have you done that? He didn’t know why he asked. Or if he wanted to know the answer. If the answer fit what he thought about wizards. And Ravalor.

I destroyed your earth, Ravalor said flatly, but Aeven noticed how very carefully Ravalor watched him as he did.

Yes, but…

It was necessary. Yes. A brief nod, like Aeven had already agreed. Aeven couldn’t, not really, even when Ravalor was right.

So he shook his head slightly. That is horrible.

I know.

There it was. Aeven’s eye was fixed on Ravalor. And for a moment, beneath those two words, there was an unfathomable guilt. In the way his eyes seemed even darker and the breath that followed seemed much heavier than the ones before.

I’m sorry.

And how different he sounded now. Like the crushing weight of that decision had weighed on him for over a year. When he had told him the first time that there was no other way, that he was sorry, it was only a fact. A decor to the destruction ahead. Maybe now he had realised what he was sorry for. The bitterness of the thought felt heavy in his heart. And yet he couldn’t blame Ravalor. Not anymore.

If it’s worth anything to you, I understand it. It was a terrible choice nobody should be asked to make, Aeven said quietly, and for a moment, Ravalor’s eyes narrowed, like there had been a second of protest. No, no protest, not even an objection. But an instinctual refusal to accept what almost sounded like forgiveness.

He understood that. But Aeven also doubted he could be the one to give it in the first place. The lone survivor to grant absolution in the place of billions that died? No. This was something Ravalor had to find for himself. They both had to.

It’s all connected, isn’t it? The war, what happened to Earth, all this. All because of this wizard. And Zenozarax. Aeven paused, tense. Finally, what Ravalor had told him slotted into another fact, destroying its certainty. It’s not him, then, is it? I killed him, right?

And Ravalor’s answer made his heart sink. I don’t think it’s him.

... So he’s still alive? He felt his heart hard in his chest.

You did kill… one part of him, Ravalor said vaguely, for the first time in their conversation, averting his eyes, seemingly very interested in the fluctuating wave lines on the tab on the table.

So how many are still left?

He is a wizard of two so…

Two Parts. So only one left? He barely understood what he was saying. What it meant. Everything that had happened, to kill that wizard…

I don’t know, maybe, maybe he has rebuilt his lost part by now-

Rebuild?

As long as any one part is left, we can get our lost parts back. It’s like cloning if you will. By now, if he is still alive, he would have…

Suddenly, Aeven experienced a strange calm. Where he had expected anger or desperate confusion, he suddenly felt his thoughts disperse for a moment, refocusing in a much brighter light.

It had never been just about killing Zenozarax.

No matter how often he had heard it from the legends, and wizards, and even Ravalor himself. Defeating Zenozarax had always been secondary for what really mattered. To protect and save as many people as possible. To free them from evil.

It was what the first Aeven VonTreva had done, what he had done, for what he had died. Nothing of it had been pointless just because the wizard still lived.

Alright.

Ravalor looked up at him again, hesitatingly. Relieved. If anything, it was clear he absolutely would welcome a change of topic.

But you’re sure this isn’t him? Aeven looked back at the hologram.

Almost certainly. Zenozarax was always a lot, but never a great Envoy. Ravalor nodded, regaining some of his usual stoic composure.

But they might be working together? Aeven suggested, after all, Zenozarax had been freed from Charon as a consequence of the war. A war orchestrated by this wizard.

It appears to be a possibility. Yes.

Aeven leaned back. He really, really wished Ravalor would have told him before — but he had to acknowledge that it probably would have been a dangerous topic to raise, considering his unstable mental state during the time.

What are we doing about it?

We need to focus on the situation at hand first and foremost. Identify the nature of this man. But be ready to act, and defend yourself.

Aeven knew Ravalor was talking about using the Hammer. Kill him, if he’s a wizard?

A chaos wizard, yes. It is imperative to capture or destroy them whenever we have the chance.

But what is the point, if they can just— Aeven fished for the right word but eventually just had to use the one Ravalor had given him. —rebuild themselves?

It weakens them, draws them out. It is preferable to capture them if the chance is given, because they can’t rebuild a Part that is still alive, but it is also very dangerous. They would rather die than be captured, Ravalor explained. Aeven saw a kind of logic in that and assumed a wizard would first truly die once all their Parts were dead.

After a moment in which Aeven pondered over the new information he had concerning wizards Ravalor just lightly shook his head and said,

I don’t think the way things stand now we will get around getting the information from the security station. We need to know where he is. What he’s doing.

Aeven nodded and was about to propose a plan as Ravalor peaked up, turning to the news screen. Aeven promptly followed his gaze and blinked surprised.

Ravalor turned the volume up by a simple wave of his hand, and the Northman’s voice rose.

Standing next to a young woman, a reporter, it seemed, the banner labelled him as an RD Representative named—

John North? That’s the name he choose?? Aeven asked, appealed by the lack of creativity. Ravalor in the meanwhile seemed as baffled for different reasons.

—of course, there will be uncertainty. But I want to assure the people of this station that this does not change what Rotadon Dynamics stands for. We will continue to provide reliable and high quality ships at every price range for the people of Dinaric. Especially now that the need is this high. We will not abandon you, the Northman said firmly, an almost bitter frown on his face as if he couldn’t believe the atrocity committed. The woman to his side seemed to almost believe him — if she weren’t a reporter.

Rotadon Dynamics has been criticized in the past for their rather selective approach of servicing the lower Market Sectors. Such promises after a tragedy like this appear rather calculated, she said with a good bite in her voice. Which was absolutely deserved given the fact that the Northman was literally spinning empty air.

I think it will now be of great importance to look and judge the results we are able to achieve reaching for a shared goal. It is help we offer: the opportunity for every person on this station to pick themselves up again after the loss of their ship. I’ll invite you to judge us once we all get through this, until then, we all should work together. The Northman said firmly, meeting the camera’s eye for an intimate moment.

Oh by the lords, Ravalor groaned. I’m never going to hear the end of this.

What is he doing?

Let’s ask him. Ravalor frowned, his eyes lit up as he continued, Northman? A short pause. What are you doing? — Yes I’ve just seen what kind of busy that is. Get back here immediately! Another longer pause. The interview on the screen just concluded so Aeven assumed it had been a recording already. What kind of lead? Where? — No, I don’t think that is wise. — Are you- …. But I want you to report back as soon as you find anything. Do not go in there alone. This could be chaos wizard related afterall. — Okay. But no more interviews!

What kind of lead? Aeven asked the moment Ravalor’s eyes had turned black again.

He thinks he has a valid hint where to find the child. He’s moving himself up and down the ladder so to speak, making friends in high and low places with promises like that. Ravalor demonstratively glanced at the news screen, still not very happy about it.

“For as long as the Northman is openly playing the Rotadon Dynamics part, we two should probably keep under the radar,” Ravalor said as they packed up again. “I may not always approve of his methods, but he has a way with these things,” he added at Aeven’s inquiring look. “No reason to jeopardise whatever he’s playing.”

“You always act like you’re eternally exasperated about everything he does, but you do trust him a lot, don’t you?” Aeven put the jacket back on, putting up the hood as well before fixing the still wrapped up hammer on his back.

“Why are you asking?”

Aeven glanced up after taking his rifle again, putting it over his shoulder. There was a tone of suspicion in Ravalor’s voice he couldn’t quite place. But there was nothing in his face that would hint at anything.

“No reason. I mean I know, if the legends are true, which at this point in my mind is no doubt about, you do know each other for at least a thousand years, yes? I doubt you’d have him stick around if truly you were annoyed by him, right?” he asked.

“We do know each other even longer. In fact I helped build him.” Ravalor already approached the door and Aeven followed.

“So you knew him even before he became a cyborg?” Aeven failed to keep the awe filled curiosity out of his words.

“Indeed.” They left the room. “There is an infuriating aspect of … let’s call it predictable-unpredictability to that man, but, beyond that, I have found him nothing but reliable when it comes to what really matters.” They exited the flop house onto the cramped main path through the shallows. Ravalor’s next words were almost swallowed by the chatter around, “There are not many people I can still rely on, but him, I would trust with my life. Always.”

Aeven hung at every word; there was so much there. So much implied he was burning to ask. But he would like to get the full story in a quiet moment — and this was hardly the time. Ravalor seemed to agree because he promptly changed the topic,

“We’ll take a rail shuttle to the spearhead district.”

And so they pressed forward.

7 Revolution

Exiting the rail shuttle station on the Hemesto Boulevard in the spearhead district, coming straight from the shallows, wasn’t as much of a change of scenery as Aeven had come to suspect. The air was better, and there was a lot more space, especially vertically, but beyond that the architecture wasn’t too different. The station’s age was also obvious here, flaunting that old rustic charm that lost some of its oppressiveness in the vast open space. But what struck Aeven most was the fact that this part of the station didn’t only look more wealthy, but also sounded more healthy.

There were fewer people, and the station’s creaks and groans seemed distant and muffled. Even the doors opened more silently, and no exposed pipes gurgled and banged.

They had just made a few steps away from the station when Ravalor noticeably slowed down. But they didn’t stop walking.

“What’s wrong?” Aeven asked tensely, the suspicious squint in Ravalor’s face was reason enough for that.

“The Northman is nearby.”

Somehow Aeven wasn’t that surprised about it. He looked at the direction Ravalor’s attention seemed to be pinpointed but couldn’t see any hint of the Northman. Ravalor didn’t sway from their initial course however. “We have to go to the lower administration level to get to the security station.”

“Wait, hold on,” Aeven instinctively grabbed Ravalor’s arm to stop him from walking. He noticed the way Ravalor tensed up immediately and was, in hindsight, reminded of the last time he had grabbed Ravalor unannounced. It had earned him a magical blast to the face not too long ago. Quickly, he pulled his hand back, then nodded to the news screens lining the corridor into the administration section.

They were far from the only people whose attention was caught by them.

On one of them an array of three pictures showed the faces of two men and a woman. One of them was the man they had found dead in his apartment. Volker vonVogel.

They stepped closer.

“—the victims of the three murders committed during the tragic events of the past hours have now been identified. As GPD confirms a suspect has been taken into custody but no further information has been provided this far. A press conference is set for 10:25 later this— ” the voice stopped abruptly and the picture switched from the three men to a video of just one. The unexpected, maybe even unfamiliar silence of the other feeds before fell over the crowd, drawing all the eyes that previously had not paid attention.

Suddenly they looked directly at Siegfried. He looked tired, with dark rims under his eyes and the tanned skin looking sickly and ashen. He still looked well put together otherwise, even though his hair was a bit disheveled. But beyond all that, there was a fever in his eyes that made Aeven shift uncomfortably even before he began to speak. This was going to be very bad. He could already feel it within the crowd around him before the first word was even spoken. Fear.

“My brothers and sister of Dinaric. This day marks a new era for all of us. A serpent has burrowed itself deep into the life of this magnificent symbol of freedom. Today we took the first step of cauterising that wound. The three men that died today were terrorist leaders from Felony, planning a violent uprising against you and the crown. This threat has now been pacified.

I feel for the losses you endured, for Dragony’s actions were not swift enough to prevent the attack on your station. But it is my hope that now, we can together eradicate this threat once and for all and return Dinaric to the protection of your homeland.

For my actions here today, I will have been arrested, facilitated by the corrupt influences of Felony. But I will not let this injustice stand. My brothers and sisters, freedom is a mere stone’s throw away. But that stone will have to be thrown before we can reach it. Stand with me, fight for your freedom! This may be the last chance you’ll have! The —”

The broadcast abruptly stopped again, switching to a completely black screen and a horrible silence. But that silence lasted only a few stunned seconds before voices erupted from all directions at once.

(“By god why would they play that?”)

The crowd around them got more and more agitated.

(“They didn’t, someone spliced that in! No way that was the prince.”)

Aeven could hear concern and curses all around him, shouting even.

(“Dragony is seizing the station!”)

At almost the same time, any form of communication device of everyone around, the writstabs both Aeven and Ravalor wore included, chained with an all-too-familiar sound, a general alert of a lockdown being enacted.

(“Call your uncle! He needs to come back right now!” )

Momentarily, the toneless voice overpowered the mumbling of the crowd.

“All citizens and visitors are to return to their homes immediately. A curfew will be in place until further notice. Please remain calm. You will be allowed to leave the area to return to your homes.”

“Quickly now.“ Ravalor had a hard grip on Aeven’s arm, and he was dragged away from the panels. Everyone around them was now in motion. After a few steps, Ravalor let go of him, and Aeven quickly hurried after him.

“That had to be a fake,” Aeven said, glancing back. “Right?”

“If it was, it even fooled me. And I doubt it,” Ravalor said briskly. “In here.” They entered a side passage. “It was Siegfried. In one form or another.”

A door opened to the right, and without hesitation, Ravalor stepped in; Aeven just followed. The door closed behind them, and suddenly, they found themselves at the end of several guns pointed directly at them.

“Guys. I told you they are with me,” The Northman said, relaxed as always, stepping away from the door.

“North!”

“These two?” A man said tensely. “They are looking for them.”

“GPD?” Ravalor asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why? What for?”

“Murder.” This time the answer was more snarling, showing clear disdain.

“We were there but vonVogel was already dead when we got there,” Aeven said.

“So you know who he was?” the man looked at Aeven, no less suspicious.

“We’ve just seen the report. We didn’t know who he was. We’re looking for someone else,” Ravalor said, near reflexively covering-up Aeven’s accidental over-sharing of knowledge.

Aeven had to assume these people probably were Felony adjacent. Given the place he shouldn’t be surprised, but since the behaviour was more thuggish, holding them literally at gunpoint, the fact that all of them looked more like business people was still noticeable. Though he remembered Captain Donovan from the Summerville, a man whose entire family was bureaucrats three generations in the making, expressing that he preferred pirates over businessmen because at least he knew when they were about to stab him in the back.

Aeven didn’t like to entertain sweeping generalisations like that, so he didn’t really agree with it, but he could understand what made him say it.

“There’s no need for guns. Let’s clear this up,” Aeven suggested with a nod to the gun the man held that had spoken before.

“Yeah,” the Northman added, “I told you, we’re not with Dragony or Felony either. We’re just contractors stuck here now like everyone else.”

Aeven appreciated that. It was a good addition. Indeed, after the man lowered his gun, the rest followed suit.

“You might want to figure out which side you’re on soon. As I figure we have maybe the better part of an hour before things turn ugly,” the man said with a grim frown as he actually turned away from them and walked towards a table at the back of the room.

Only briefly glancing to Ravalor, Aeven followed carefully. “What do you mean?”

“Dinaric is independent in name only. Half of the people living here are dragonites. The other, felons. Nobody is Denarian. Not even those born here. The station belongs to someone. Who that is, we might find out tonight.”

“Because of the announcement of Siegfried? What if it’s fake? It’s obviously intended to cause discontent.”

“You may care about that. Calmer heads might too in the days to come. But I’m not worried about those. There will be blood tonight. Whatever this is about a missing kid, you should forget about it and bunker up. Lay low and get out as soon as you can.”

So the Northman had told them about Maria’s son, or at least they were looking for him.

“It’s an infant. We can’t just wait. We need to find him as quickly as possible. Now more so and more pressingly than ever.”

Unexpectedly there was a slim and empathetic smile on the man’s face. Maybe, given the dedication in his voice, wrongly assuming the child was Aeven’s.

“I can only tell you the same as I did your friend. We don’t fuck around with that shit. We deal in ships and wares. Not people. But I heard there were a few people brought onto the station lately. A child too. Pale, sickly looking. That’s all I know, stood out to some that’s all.”

“What about the man? Did you recognise him?”

“I know nothing about any man with the kid. Whoever it was didn’t raise attention to my people.”

Huh. This was odd. If it had been Sigfried on the camera footage they had seen from Hatir, he was sure they would have recognised Sigfried, if not in the moment, at least now retrospectively.

Aeven glanced at Ravalor and the Northman who were quiet, but the Northman was looking at Ravalor. Neither of the two seemed to really listen to Aeven’s conversation — like they were occupied with something else Aeven couldn’t hear.

“If not you, who gets people onto the station?” Aeven asked as he turned back to the man.

“Depends. Some is GPD, some Dinarian Separatists,”

“I thought there were no real Dinarians?” Aeven noted, keeping his voice curious and not accusing the man of a lie.

“There aren’t. It’s just some confused kids playing revolutionary.” Ah. Semantics of allegiance and heritage. There were Dinarians, but the other two sides wouldn’t acknowledge them despite them being resourceful enough to smuggle people successfully onto the station. Aeven only nodded and then asked,

“What’s your role in all of this then?”

“I should ask you that.”

“We’re just looking for the child.”

“Right,” the man said, but there was clear doubt in the one word. He stood up, clearly intent on ending the conversation.

“Wait, do you have any idea where they are now?”

“No I don’t.”

Aeven momentarily met the man’s eyes and knew he was lying. But it wasn’t like he could discern that from his tone or posture or how his eyes moved. Instead, Aeven just knew that he was lying. Because, of course, he was. Just about what he’d need to find out.

“Who do you think will win?” He asked which gave the man pause.

“Felony. Dragony controls the GPD, so it will get ugly. But we’re more angry,” he said, confirming Aeven’s suspicion of their alliance.

Slowly, the entire situation started to connect in his mind (from the corner of his healthy eye, he saw Ravalor suddenly turn to his left), and he began to (a strange tingling tightened his stomach, and for a split second, he met Ravalor’s eyes) understand that (and he knew exactly what Ravalor) —

“TAKE COVER! DOOR BREACH!” Ravalor’s sudden shout made everyone in the room flinch, and only half of them were fortunate or quick enough to do as they were told. Amongst them was Aeven, who was the first to dive for the next corner away from the entrance.

It was no two seconds later that the door that used to be the entrance exploded into the room, taking half the wall with it. Smoke and shouting filled the room. Aeven, his ears ringing shrill and deafeningly, heard barely any of it as he turned back. He needed to get Ravalor and the Northman first. But Ravalor found him first, the dark figure came suddenly out of the smoke. Aeven now saw the gunfire more than he heard it as Ravalor grabbed him once more, dragging him back further into the building.

“Where’s North?” He barely heard himself shout. If Ravalor answered he didn’t hear it. They ended up in a back room with no other exit — at least at first glance. One of the ceiling panels was torn away.

“Up!” Ravalor just said, holding his hands to give Aeven a leg up. Aeven decided to question where this went later when there was less shouting and gunfire becoming louder and louder as his hearing returned, and stepped up. For a moment he was worried about being too heavy but Ravalor had no problem raising him up far enough so Aeven could reach the opening and pull himself up. He had to assume the Northman had cleared this way and so fortunately there was just enough space for him and the hammer not getting stuck right away.

The opening led into a crawl space and then into another broken panel of the upper floor. He’d have to go through, turn around, and get back in to pull Ravalor up. He had just reached the second opening when he heard a clunking from behind. Managing to look halfway behind, he saw Ravalor behind him, pulling himself up into the crawlspace.

As he exited, he found himself in the middle of what appeared to be a kitchen, and the Northman was tightly holding a middle-aged woman, hand over her mouth.

“What are you doing?” Aeven said tensely as he got up. “Let her go.”

“If I do, she is going to scream,” the Northman said factually, like it was just something Aeven had forgotten. “I’m not sure we want that.”

“By North, we’re no criminals. Ma’am, we’re not going to hurt you in any way. We just need to pass through here, alright? Just let her go, North.”

Downright resigning, the Northman did let her go. She immediately hit his arms away, stumbled away and, by the time she reached the corridor outside the room, screamed for help.

“Just let’s hurry out of here,” Aeven answered the ‘told-you-so’ look he received from the Northman. Ravalor pulled himself out of the hole in the floor.

“What was that?”

“Witness,” the Northman said with a shrug, then adding, “Resident, I mean,” while looking back at Aeven.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Ravalor asked and the Northman’s brows only rose while he was still looking at Aeven.

“Just let’s go. Where to from here, Ravalor?” Aeven interrupted the two apparent career criminals before further discussion on the topic could erupt.

“The corridor outside should get us further to the security station. Just right and go as far as we get. First and foremost, away from the guards.” They were already walking, behind Aeven could hear voices past the hole in the floor. Quickly they picked up the pace.

“Who were those guys?” Aeven asked

“Woman I spoke with first mentioned 3F.” The Northman said.

“Felonies freedom fighters,” Ravalor explained. “At least we did find Sigfried’s terrorists.”

Aeven frowned, glancing at Ravalor. “They knew something, didn’t they? Because they were more concerned with the GPD looking for us than us being involved in that murder. They knew we weren’t involved, right?”

“A not unlikely conclusion.” Ravalor nodded. “There is another thing about the video of Sigfried. While I don’t think it is fake — the man was in clear distress. His pulse was close to 140. He may have been forced to record this video.”

“How do you know?”

“Pulse transit time between his chin and forehead.”

Aeven hadn’t even been aware that was a way one could measure one’s pulse. “Okay, alright, however, if he’s in custody, what are we doing about that?”

“Depends on who is right. Siegfried said Felonie’s influence would have him arrested, then he is in danger, the men down there said the GPD is controlled by Dragony, then he may be safe. But if this level of action is now happening all over the station from the GPD the child may be in danger as well,” Ravalor noted as they took a corner and a set of stairs leading further up. “However, our best chance is still to get into the security system.”

“Yo, Ravalor.” The Northman got both their attention. He held a small, ancient-looking private console up to them.

“Who’s that?” Ravalor took it.

“From the guys back there.” Seeing Aeven’s concerned frown, he added, “They must have lost it in the fight.”

“I feel like I’m learning a lot about the both of you here. And it is starting to concern me,” Aeven said, only half joking.

“I swear it was just laying there.”

Ravalor in the meanwhile masterfully ignored the both of them. “This is very old fashioned, I’ll need a moment to get in here.”

“Let’s get out of the corridor first,” Aeven suggested quickly, already tensing up by not moving anymore.

“Storage?” The Northman nodded to one of the doors.

 Inside, Ravalor set up a makeshift little workstation in record speed, pulling this and that magical knickknack from his utility vest until the whole personal console looked overenthusiastically acupunctured. Aeven let him do whatever he did there and turned to the Northman.

“Was there anything else they said to you? About the child?”

“Not really. We talked mainly about ships. They were interested in buying. It was already tricky enough to get to the topic of the kid without raising suspicion. If I had more time, I probably would have gotten something out of them.”

Aeven nodded understandingly. “Aye. I do think he said the truth about not being involved with the kid, but I think he would have known at least who to talk to about this. But good work even finding them.”

The Northman grinned lopsidedly. “Thanks, cap’n.”

8 A Warning

Outside the corridor, they heard steps rushing past. They sounded heavy and coordinated enough to doubt it was just civilians. All three of them paused for a moment, letting the room fill with dead quiet until the sound disappeared in the constant hiss of the station itself.

Maybe it was just a case of getting used to it, but where Aeven always had thought of the Northforce’s constant hum as calming and comforting, the sound of this station got his hackles up. It was sharper, though more quiet. But once he had paid attention to it, it was like the echo of the tinnitus he had left with his first body in the pit of that blasted chasm.

“Hm.”

Aeven turned back to Ravalor. It was that kind of “hm”.

“Found something?” He asked as he stepped back to Ravalor. The personal console was brightly lit now and, from within, wedged into even the smallest cracks in its construction and from every opening came a net of fine glowing, seemingly hair-fine lines that weaved together into a few single threads that were attached to Ravalor’s fingers.

It was the first time Aeven had time to marvel at the intriguing design of the fine lines of light sprawled over the commander’s hand. The hard, uncompromising lines crossed and balanced the glowing circles on the back of his hands like an incantation taking form. It suited him.

He wondered if these markings would be noticeably warm to the touch, as most magic was. But this wasn’t the time to find that out. Nor was it in any shape or form appropriate no matter how curious he was.

“Two things actually,” Ravalor said, his seemingly natural frown had deepened. “The man we’re looking for goes by the name of Hans Goldendieck; at least, he does here on this station. The child was registered under the name Ferdinand. His son allegedly. Both citizens of Dragony and were to meet with Dinarian separatists whose last known holdout is in a place they just called The Fens,” Ravalor said. “I can not find any conversations or notes concerning their location other than that name. It appears they told the truth about their involvement.”

“Alright. That’s good, though. More than we had before.”

“Secondly, remember the second one-person ship log I mentioned? They knew about that in detail. If I’m reading this right it they were tasked to make it disappear. Presumably so the one that blew up the ship storage could take its place.”

“They did that?” Aeven asked tensely, feeling a nauseous bloom of just having talked very casually with a man who appeared to be an actual terrorist.

“Unclear. From this they only knew about the first ship. There is no reference to the attack itself. It is, of course, possible that this person just wasn’t involved in it.” Ravalor said. His expression didn’t change, his voice eerily calm.

“They want to start a war.” Aeven shook his head in disbelief. “Steal his child, lure him here, use his ship for the attack, his face for the murders, and blackmail him to make that statement… They are framing him.”

“If that is the case—“ Ravalor’s eyes turned black again before changing once more to the pale dark blue. “He is willing to cause this much harm to save the child,”

“Ravalor, it’s his son.”

“I know. I do understand the reason. But if this is the case, it is imperative that we find the child before we find Sigfried. He has just turned this station into a burning fuse and if it gets bad enough it can ignite a war between their two plants again. He has to be aware of this. If we don’t have the child, even if he hasn’t personally done anything, he will not cooperate.”

Aeven took a deep breath. “You’re right. If he fears for his son’s life, he can’t.”

“Guys, the Northman got their attention. He nodded to the door, and faintly, there were steps again.

Aeven noticed that he now stood right besides the door in a way that would have him easily overpower anyone who would enter. Or worse.

“Don’t kill anyone!” Aeven hissed as both he and Ravalor moved to a more hidden position behind a shelf again. “If that’s GPD, they think we’re the criminals right now.”

“I’d have thought you to be more critical about law enforcement being paid off,” the Northman noted quietly without taking his eyes or attention away from the door.

“I hate it. But these guys probably just follow orders while their bosses get the money.”

The Northman gave a nod that read very much like, “That’s probably true.” Actually whispering, he added, “They are opening doors. Searching.”

“We should let them capture us,” Aeven said suddenly, and Ravalor met his eyes for but a second. Aeven saw that he immediately understood what he was suggesting. They needed to get to security. So they would go to security, one way or another. Tough that way would determine the how-to-get-back-out part but they would cross that bridge when they got there (and — Aeven thought — Ravalor was a wizard afterall.)

Ravalor, with no time to waste, immediately laid out the new plan, “Northman, I will port you back into the flop house, take this with you, it’s evidence we might need later. While I now have the data, you know how people are without physical evidence. Make sure it’s safe.” He held out the personal console, and without hesitation, the Northman came over and took it. “If you can, find out about The Fens. Chances are good someone down there knows about it, but be careful. Ask Marka first.”

“Aye.”

“We two will let them take us — or at least try. If they have a shoot-to-kill order, we’ll have to adjust to that, of course. But if not, this will get us directly into security the quickest and easiest way.”

“What about her?” Aeven quickly asked, clarifying instantly, “The Hammer.” It was a testament to how casually Aeven carried the oversized hammer around with him that both Ravalor and the Northman seemed to have temporarily forgotten about it. “If we get arrested, they will take her. Should the Northman take her too?”

“No. I want it close by. Just in case. In the worst case, it’s not like a few layers of steel will stop it.”

“I really would prefer not to tear half the station apart.” Aeven raised his brows in concern.

Ravalor ignored him as he had already opened a portal, and the Northman stepped through and back into their room in the flop house.

The portal closed behind him again, and not a moment too soon. They heard the steps rushing closer as Ravalor stepped up beside him, both facing the door.

“If they shoot, we will blow our cover,” Ravalor said quietly. But he was saying something else too. Aeven clenched his teeth.

“We can’t just kill them. If all goes to hell, you can use your magic, and I can use the Hammer to knock them unconscious. Then, we will get out of here.”

“There is still a high chance for accidental deaths. If you don’t want to risk it, we can still go. This is way more than we signed up for.”

“No.” Aeven took a deep breath. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” Ravalor muttered. “Hands up.”

Aeven raised his hands, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. Praying over and over again, please don’t shoot, please don’t shoot.

The door burst open. Suddenly shouting, guns pointing directly at them, Aeven felt the Hammer stir again, tensely aware of the danger; a barking order commanded them to kneel and put their hands behind their heads.

Both followed it instantly.

The guards swarmed the room, searching any nook and cranny while two of them were already with them, cuffing them and pulling them back up, almost yanking his shoulder out of its socket.

And yet Aeven felt a deep sense of relief as they were disarmed and roughly pushed out of the room.

*

As they had suspected, the Hammer was taken from him. Of course, it only happened because he convinced the Hammer it was, at least temporarily, okay. She didn’t like to be away from him, and he didn’t either, but they would put up with it — for now.

The whole process was marked by stress and shouting; as they were brought into the holding area, it became clear very quickly that there had been dozens of arrests already, and this security station had never been built to accommodate such an influx of “criminals”.

Cells that were meant to hold only one person for safety reasons were here and there filled with up to four people. Most of them loudly voiced their outrage over their arrest whenever a guard came into range.

Consequently, and fortunately, this meant that they didn’t get split up as they were shoved into a cell with already two people in it.

So far, besides taking their weapons from them, nobody had even attempted to actually process them to confirm their identity or even, at least, ask their names.

Aeven had to admit that it was a very novel experience to be on this side of this ordeal, as he had never been arrested before.

Their two cellmates didn’t pay them much attention, so much so that they didn’t even pretend to make room on the single bench in the small cell. One of them, an older man, seemed asleep, leaning onto the corner. The other wore an angry and sour face, staring at his folded hands. It was the type of look Aeven knew wasn’t waiting for someone to ask him nonchalantly how things were going.

Since Ravalor hadn’t moved away from the translucent door, watching the outside, Aeven did the same.

“Lots of people here,” he noted quietly.

“I’d have assumed they’re just picking up anyone going against the curfew. But there are too many wounded here. It reeks of blood,” Ravalor muttered. Even if he tried, Aeven couldn’t say he smelled it too, but he had seen a few people that looked battered and slumped over. “This makes things a little more complicated.”

“I love it when you say that,” Aeven said even more quietly, meeting a side glance from Ravalor that seemed surprisingly apologetic if he would believe it, so he smiled softly to signal that he wasn’t actually irritated by it. But Ravalor probably already knew that.

“We’ll have to wait till they interrogate us,” Ravalor said in a tone that would suggest nothing more than that they, indeed, would have to wait. Aeven, of course, understood that chances were good that they were, if not listened to, at least recorded right now. There ought to be cameras and certainly microphones too. So even if he were to distract their cellmates, it probably wouldn’t be safe for Ravalor to engage in any magical activities right now.

After half an hour, Aeven gave in to the temptation of sitting down, leaning against the wall since their cellmate still occupied the only bench. Ravalor kept standing without even shifting his weight now and then.

It might have been half an hour or a full one after that that Aeven suddenly tensed up.

Before he knew it, Ravalor had crouched down beside him, almost startling him. “What is it?” Ravalor asked in a whisper.

“There’s someone picking her up,” Aeven said deliberately vaguely, but Ravalor seemed to get it.

“Taking her away?”

Aeven frowned, trying to decipher the sensation of the connection he had to his beloved Hammer. “No. It’s a…” he stopped, barely glancing at the others in the room before nodding towards Ravalor himself. He saw the immediate alert draw Ravalor’s eyebrows up.

“You can’t let them take it,” he hissed, putting all caution aside. “Why are you letting them?”

“I’m not doing anything. It’s her!” Aeven hissed back. He could feel the suspicious and probably weary stares of their cellmates on him so he lowered his voice even further. “She is letting them! She is trusting them.”

Aeven had never seen Ravalor this helplessly confused, searching for words. The worst was that Aeven felt the same way and couldn’t explain more, even if he would be able to speak freely. This was utterly bizarre. This shouldn’t happen.

“They are coming here…” Aeven at least figured out, feeling the Hammer’s presence drawing closer again, which was immediately calming his nerves. There was distress in their connection, but it wasn’t because she had been unrightfully picked up. Because if she wouldn’t have wanted it, it wouldn’t have happened.

A short figure appeared at their cell door only a moment later, holding the wrapped-up hammer in one hand. They were much shorter than any of the guards they had seen before but wore the same gold-red uniform with at least one pistol at their hip. Their face was hidden behind the GPD Helmet — but there was tension in how they stood before the door.

First, when he pulled him back, Aeven noticed how Ravalor had taken several steps back from the door.

The door opened.

“You two, come with me.” The helmet distorted the bright and clear voice, but it left no doubt about the seriousness of the command. Both hesitated, Aeven only because Ravalor was still holding his arm. “Don’t.” The guard said sharply, looking at Ravalor. Aeven saw them raise their free hand ever so slightly for a moment. Ravalor let go of him.

Quietly, they walked out, “Down the corridor, then right,” the guard, who was so much shorter than either of them but who was also a wizard, said. And so they went where they were told to go. Nobody stopped them. There were other guards around, some shouting, running, others in tense discussion or passing on orders, but all were too occupied trying to keep the station from catching fire (hopefully figuratively). Even here, he could still hear distant sirens and klaxons howling.

They reached a small room that appeared to be for integrations. “Sit!” again, leaving no room for discussion as the door closed behind them.

Next to him, they put the hammer on the table.

“Don’t ever part with it like this again, Aeven! Not here. Not anytime soon!”

Aeven blinked surprised. There was genuine anger directed at him like he had offended this wizard personally by letting the guards take the Hammer. “It was close,” Aeven said, confused. This was not the opening of the conversation he had expected. If he had expected anything at all.

“Not close enough.”

“Who are you?” Ravalor asked sharply. “Are you an Envoy?”

“A Seeker. Whatever you hear now, I beg of you to hear all of it before you do anything else. Don’t tell anyone. This room is cut off from monitoring, so we can talk freely.

“I’m your friend right now. Nothing more. Please do listen. Your survival may depend on it. Do not dismiss this. But don’t speak of it either.”

There were at least a handful of red flags Aeven saw rising and even more if the frown on Ravalor’s face was anything to go by.

“Who ordered you here? Show yourself.” Ravalor demanded.

“A Seeker never shows their face,” the fake guard said.

“I don’t think you are one,” Ravalor spoke calmly, but he was anything but. There was tension in his hands, in his jaws, in his posture.

“Be careful, Ravalor. Just listen to me.” The guard, too, sounded calm.

“No. I can’t do that.”

“Don’t be a stubborn fool; I’m trying to help you.”

“How can I possibly trust that? If you are a Seeker, you should know that better than anyone.”

Aeven glanced at the Hammer at the table. Then, back to the two wizards. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up. When the strange wizards raised their hands, Ravalor took such an abrupt step back that Aeven felt his heart jump half out of his chest.

But then the guard only took off the helmet, revealing the face of a young woman. Her black hair was tied to a stern, low ponytail that was now looser by removing the helmet. Her expression was grim, near irritated — but as she looked away from Ravalor, who had made another step back, there was pity in the black eyes, too.

“Will you listen now?”

“...” Ravalor stayed quiet. He looked ashen.

 “Good.” She smiled, contemptuously, even though Aeven sensed it wasn’t dislike for either of them causing it. She had shown her face, and Aeven understood it to be an act of no triviality. Burning faces — that was what Ravalor had called it. She, this wizard, had just compromised herself — to help them?

Like sensing his thoughts the wizard looked at him.

 “Whatever you do, do not leave him,” she said to Aeven. “Ravalor, you are in danger. More reasons than you might think. For one, there is a wizard watching you; he goes by the name Quadirymir, and we have reason to assume that the only reason he hasn’t gotten to you yet is that you, Aeven, are with him, and the rest of you have been under watch.”

“Quadirymir..?” Ravalor repeated, nearly inaudible.

This gave the unknown wizard pause. “You know him?”

“I…no, I don’t know him.” Ravalor raised his hands; Aeven noticed how, despite her calm composure, it made the young woman twitch ever so slightly. “Is this him?”

Spawned from the glowing magic of his hands, a floating hologram appeared directly above the table, showing the four pictures again Aeven had seen earlier.

The woman’s expression turned sour. “Yes. These three, the fourth, I don’t know,” she said, looking at the picture of the look-alike Siegfried from Hatir. “So you have met him?”

“Not directly. But I was suspecting it to be one wizard following us.”

“Yes. And that makes it imperative for you two to stay together. He won’t dare get too close to you as long as the Hammer is nearby and a threat.”

“She’s always nearby,” Aeven noted, but the young woman shook her head.

“Not out here. If I had been him, Ravalor could be dead by now,” she said grimly, and it dawned on Aeven how unwaveringly serious she was about this. He felt a tight feeling drop in his stomach as he looked up at Ravalor. For a moment, he even met his eyes — and the fact that this wizard was right now in mortal danger, that there was someone out there aiming especially for Ravalor, barely made sense to him. Because that meant that Ravalor, the wizard that had been a constant in over a thousand years of his family’s history, could actually die. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of the fact that wizards could die; his whole quest to defeat Zenozarax was about nothing else, but especially after that weird experience on the Remnant, Aeven had started to question what death even meant for wizards.

Now, it became very clear that death was still a very real and very final possibility.

“I won’t let that happen,” Aeven said, determined, which seemed to please the young woman for a moment, drawing a slim smile before the frown overtook it again.

“But unfortunately, that’s not all.” She now turned back to Ravalor and addressed him directly and urgently. “Something big is happening in Mezchinhar. Something has the first circle in commotion. I was told that something happened with this ship that drew the attention of the highest ranks of the first circle. You two suddenly became very important because all information about you vanished for any wizard outside the first circle. Maybe even within. But I don’t know why yet. But I’m sure it’s the kind of important you don’t want to be.” She frowned, looking at Aeven. “Whatever it is, I don’t think any of us will like it. You’ve always been important to them Aeven — but something has changed. I don’t think they will let you return to your old life.

“Ravalor, I think you know something. Your entire crew does. You don’t have to tell me, but I hope you are aware of what it is. And what consequences it might bring. Be aware, put a pin in it, and be prepared.”

Ravalor frowned for a brief moment, looking down at the table. He hadn’t let this woman out of his sight even once this far. “You really don’t know what it is about?”

Aeven frowned as he looked at Ravalor. For the first time since he knew him, the commander looked downright ashen. But it was in the way he had asked. Like...

The young woman looked at Ravalor, too, a frown wrinkling above her nose. “What do you expect me to say? Have you seen something?”

“Seen what?”

“A vision.”

“I’m not a prophet.” Ravalor shook his head. “It’s just a feeling.”

The young woman smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m still trying to find out what is actually going on. But I won’t and can’t promise anything. I just need you to be very careful.”

“What should we do?”

“Do what you’re doing right now. Delay. Let me figure this out. If I’m right,—” she looked back to Aeven. “—they will need you to be compliant. You’re an outside force; you’re not bound to Mezchinhar. They can’t force you to do anything. You need to use this. Refuse to leave this place, at least for now. The way you are together right now is keeping both of you safe.

“We just need more time. The wizard that is watching you might want to harm you, too. Focus on that battle. He probably is the reason for the war. Find any reason not to return, but don’t fall out of line. Give me time, and I’ll find you as soon as I can again.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ravalor asked suddenly, obviously concerned the young woman would suddenly disappear on them. “Why do you care?”

“I’m a Seeker. I take care of things like this. You shouldn’t ask more.”

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air. Aeven understood that there was subtext here that he wasn’t meant to understand.

“Please stay safe. It is important. Stay with Aeven and the rest of yourself in Mezchinhar or safely elsewhere,” she said as she stepped back. It was a farewell. “Aeven, if you can, do keep him safe.”

Aeven nodded grimly. Everything he had just heard was bad, and it sounded insane to him — but he didn’t doubt a single word of it.

He flinched slightly as the young woman’s figure was suddenly swallowed by a glistening portal, on the other side was only darkness. From one second to the next, she was gone.

Almost at the same time, he saw Ravalor slump back in his chair in a pose that was utterly alien to his usual demeanour. He looked crestfallen, shocked, and, if anything, distressed to the point of making Aeven himself more nervous.

“We just do what she said then, yes? Make time?” He asked. He didn’t need to ask if Ravalor was alright; he obviously wasn’t.

“Yes,” Ravalor said distantly. There was a light gleam in his eyes, the lines of magic running through his iris lighting up sporadically. “Aeven…”

“Yes?”

“This is really bad.”

“I know, but I’m sure—”

“You don’t understand. I still don’t know who this was. Maybe it was a seeker, maybe not. …with the things they said about Mezchinhar…. good intentions be damned they gave me information I am not supposed to have, and if I don’t report this, and even worse if this wizard turns out to be a chaos wizard trying to jeopardise us — especially if I now go and do what he wants—”

“No.” Aeven shook his head. “She is telling the truth.”

“Aeven, this is not something you just take in good faith.”

“I understand that. It’s not that. But I don’t know how to explain it to you. I know she’s telling the truth. As much as the Hammer does,” Aeven said carefully trying to find the right words that may not let him sound utterly insane. He was probably failing. “I think she told the Hammer a lot more than she could tell either of us. Like I said — since that bowl thing, I’ve got the weirdest sense of stuff around me. The way I now seem to understand you, I feel that with her too. Even though I don’t know her, I felt like recognizing her.”

Ravalor nodded even though it seemed very absentminded. There was a light shaking in his hands. “Then we assume she’s telling the truth. It could be a trap.”

“I really doubt it, but I’m not dismissing the possibility,” Aeven agreed. “But let’s finish what we came here to do first, then we tackle the next big thing.” He fell silent for a moment then added. “But you know something, right? Something about what she was talking about.”

Ravalor stayed silent for over five seconds before he said,

“It was Isaac. You may have heard him yell after you woke up. He was terrified of returning you to your home. But I don’t know why. Or how he would know that. He’s not a wizard. He can’t see prophecies. So I didn’t think there was anything to it.”

“Yet you felt he was right.” Why else would Ravalor have brought it up?

“I’m not… sure if I trust my own feelings on this.”

Aeven peeked up, raising his brows. “Why?”

Ravalor stood up, seemingly ready to actually do what they were here to do, also seemingly about to dodge the question.

“Ravalor —”

“If we return you to your universe—“ Ravalor said unexpectedly as he let his hand travel right above the surface of the wall where the door was. “— things will change. One way or another. Whatever they have you do.”

Oh. Aeven’s worried frown eased lightly, though he felt the regret those words caused. It was a treacherous feeling that he hadn’t dared thinking about yet. But he appreciated that Ravalor seemed to feel not too unsimilar about the end of this, at times quite dreadful, adventure. Through all the hardships, he felt his whole life suddenly centred around their ship, that life. Aeven knew he had to return to his galaxy, but he felt he was still in denial about what that meant. Ravalor apparently wasn’t. And tried not to let it show.

Ravalor let his hands press against the wall, looking like he was listening very carefully for something but at the same time, light sparkles emerged from his hands. The room was small enough so Aeven wasn’t standing too far away, but it was just close enough to realize that they weren’t just pretty sparkles. Each time he saw the light of them fade it left a small dark dot on the wall, only a quarter size of a thumbnail, before that dot started to move. After a few centimetres the colour of the dots became near indistinguishable from the wall and Aeven had to look very hard to actually see them glide up the wall and into the ventilation shaft of the room.

Ravalor’s eyes were glowing brightly now, and while burning to ask, Aeven decided to let the wizard do the wizard stuff in peace. They had been given a bit of time to do it, but how much time that was they couldn’t say. Preemptively Aeven moved to the door to, just in case, be a plain physical barrier blocking anyone from entering the room too quickly and see what Ravalor was doing.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the flat door frame, watching Ravalor. After a moment, forgetting about his conviction not to disturb Ravalor, he asked,

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

Aeven let the answer linger for a moment as to let the silence judge it. Then he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Ravalor slightly raised his head. For a moment, Aeven even saw the glowing eyes twitch in his direction before they focused back on whatever he saw right now.

“I do.”

“Good. Then what are you afraid of?” He asked again.

“....”

Aeven didn’t ask again. Just waited.

“Uncertainty. There is a lot of it now,” Ravalor finally said, still not looking at him.

And that made sense to Aeven. Ravalor struck him as a man most comfortable within a clear and defined plan. Everything he had done thus far spoke to it, even if his plans had been plagued with many unplanned problems. Unexpectedly, Ravalor added,

“There was a moment when you woke up when I thought everything would be alright. That it was finally over.”

Aeven leaned his head against the doorframe, still watching Ravalor. “You’re angry.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Ravalor scoffed. “Now we have a confirmed chaos wizard gunning for my life; I just conspired with another wizard we don’t know, and in the end, bringing you back to your galaxy might not even result in what I wanted it to be. In fact, now I feel like bringing you back might be the worst decision I could take, and I don’t even know if it’s—“ Ravalor abruptly fell silent like he just had realised he was speaking out loud. Indeed, it was a very unfamiliar admission of his feelings. And his frustrations. This was good.

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Aeven asked. “That’s why you asked that wizard if she knew more?”

Ravalor’s frown deepened. Then the magical light died down, and his eyes turned black again and, for now, stayed black. He looked at Aeven.

“I don’t know,” he said, surprisingly irritated, but Aeven was left very much unfazed by it. This wasn’t irritation directed at him. But what Ravalor said next unsettled him a whole lot more. “I’m not a prophet, I can’t see the future, or even hazard a guess as to what’s going to happen. But I feel like my life is about to end. Maybe it’s paranoia. But maybe it’s that chaos wizard. I felt this way before, when we found that Remnant. But I didn’t die there either.”

“I won’t let you just die. You know that, right? No matter what happens,” Aeven said, uncrossing his arms and bouncing himself off the doorframe.

Their eyes met for a heavy moment before Aeven noted the slightest hint of a very tired smile on Ravalor’s face.

“And here I thought I was to ensure your survival.”

“Doesn’t have to be either or, right? I’ve got your back, and you got mine. That’s how we get through this,” Aeven said with absolute conviction.

Like he had to think about it, Ravalor nodded slowly.

“It appears so.”

“Good!” Aeven grinned, though carefully. “Now, what did you find out there?” He nodded to the imaginary space where all the info they needed was hidden.

“Let’s get out of here first.” Ravalor nodded to the table so Aeven could pick up the Hammer while he had already raised his hands for a portal.

The thin strip of light appeared in the room and opened up with a quiet sizzle, leading back to their room in the flop house.

 9 The Next Steps

The Northman was lying on one of the four beds, seemingly fast asleep, but when the portal closed behind Ravalor and Aeven, he mumbled, “Welcome back.”

“I see you’re busy?” Ravalor noted with judgment dripping from every syllable.

“Mate, street’s literally on fire. Also, Marka told me everything I needed to know, so, relax.” The Northman still didn’t open his eyes.

Ravalor quickly scanned the news feeds. Most of them were offline or sending looped messages urging people to be calm.

“I helped Marka barricade the doors. Would have put her in danger leaving again,” The Northman said, drawn out in a stretch as he finally raised up.

Aeven nodded. This deep into the station’s structure, the turmoil was faint and dulled by tons of sheets of metal and insulation — a ghostly echo of people still fighting and/or fleeing. The GPD’s arrests may have taken care of some of it, but it was far from over. “Good call. It’s good that you’re here, too.”

“You found something?” The Northman sat at the rim of the bed and rolled his shoulders and neck like he actually had slept.

“Still waiting for the report.” Aeven looked to Ravalor, but the Commander’s attention was seemingly completely elsewhere, and Aeven doubted he had even heard him.

Instead, the Northman picked up the prompt, “Alright, cap’n. I’ll start. Marka told me the fens are the colloquial term for the warehouses below. Between the shallows and the engines.”

Now Ravalor, who apparently had listened after all, turned back to them too. “I found roughly the same answer. The Felony Freedom Fighters and Dinarian Separatists are well documented in their records, The Fens appears to refer to most of the underbelly of the station. Nobody lives there — officially. It’s just storage and mechanics. Due to that, it makes up about 34% of arrest locations on the station.”

“Who would have thought?” The Northman asked rhetorically, earning a smile of tempered amusement from Aeven.

“Also, Siegfried is indeed being held in solitary confinement in the security station, and I have his current position. As long as he isn’t moved, we can get him out of here as soon as we deem necessary.”

“If this is a Dragony’s plot, and they are paying GPD, why would they keep him locked up?” Aeven asked with a puzzled frown.

“Plausible deniability? Or keeping him safe and not surprise-assassinated in the riots?” The Northman suggested.

“Fair enough,” Aeven conceded, “but it’s still odd.”

Ravalor’s frown deepened, looking at the news feeds like he expected something to show up there. Not turning away from them, he said, “What complicates matters is the fact that Goldendiek is allegedly already dead.“

“What? Since when? Where?” Aeven asked, quite alarmed. That wasn’t good at all. If the man that had brought Jeshua here was dead, whether or not he was the Siegfried lookalike or not, then it would make finding the child even harder, if not, at worst, mean that Jeshua could be in great danger now, maybe even abandoned.

“About the same time, the riots started. There was a brief report filed, no pictures of the body, just an ID that was marked as fraudulent. As predicted,” Ravalor said, still watching the news feed. “But if this is true, if Dragony pays off the GPD, and they have found Goldendiek who is allegedly our lookalike — then why aren’t they using it to clear Siegfried’s name right now? I don’t think it’s whom we’re looking for.”

 “Then we might still find them in the fens,” Aeven concluded hopefully.

“Possible. I now have a fairly detailed map of the station, so we can get around more easily,” Ravalor said. “There is still a risk since the map I found hasn’t been updated in months.”

“What’s the risk?” Aeven asked wearily.

“If I were to create a portal into a built-in space, it could tear a hole into the station. Especially down at the machineries, it could have fatal consequences.”

“Okay, yeah — let’s not do that.”

“The area is quite large, but since not many people are supposed to be there, we should be able to find them quickly if they are hiding there.”

“Alright. Then let’s go.”

“Hold on,” the Northman said, dragging the Os of each word quite dramatically as he walked over to the table and picked up a small box before throwing it to Aeven. “We don’t have time to waste, but — this is from Marka. You haven’t eaten yet, right? It’s quite good. And you should. Eat, I mean.”

“Oh — that’s so nice of her! And very thoughtful of you, thank you.” The idea of food indeed seemed suddenly intensely tempting as he realised that he hadn’t eaten in over a day, and quickly he broke open the air-tight seal on the box.

“Anytime, cap’n.”

Aeven stabbed his spoon into the food. “You know you still can call me just Aeven, right?”

“Course cap’n”, the Northman smiled lopsidedly.

“I’ll update our status with the Northforce and look for a proper port location while you eat,” Ravalor just said perfectly neutrally, but Aeven could swear there was a sense of awkwardness to it like he had just forgotten that Aeven was still, just human after all.

They sat down at the table, and the Northman joined them as well.

The food was cold and simple but delicious. It was probably a common worker’s dish, quick to eat, and with plenty of fat and protein. If it was the earlier offered Bog-Spätz, he would definitely put it in his top five Denarian Foods (the list now had one dish on it and was to be expanded.)

“So, battle plan? What’s the M.O.?” The Northman had leaned back, arms crossed as usual. “If we find the guys that have the kid, those are the bad guys, yes?”

“I suppose,” Aeven said carefully. Of course, there was the unspoken addendum to the Northman’s question: “If they are bad guys and some of them happen to die, you won’t be pissed at me, right?”

“We might run into the guards too,” Ravalor added without looking up from the panels of his makeshift workstation.

“Okay, alright—” Aeven, for a moment, put his spoon down. “Listen, if there is no other way, if Jeshua’s life is in danger, yes, fine, you may do whatever is necessary to save him. But as long as there is any other way, we will not go and just murder people because they happen to be in our way. Maybe they are criminals; in fact, they probably are as it seems, but that doesn’t mean we can just kill them. We have no right to enact any form of justice on this station. I can’t even arrest anyone anymore. Even worse, I am still running around with the same face as this galaxy’s Aeven. Worst case, we start killing people, and this earth has a war on their doorstep as well. We’re here to save Jeshua. That’s what we’ll do.”

“Roger that,” the Northman said like he had expected nothing else. Expectantly, Aeven looked at Ravalor, who still hadn’t looked up.

“Ravalor?”

“I do fully agree.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Ravalor looked up just before he stood up. “We should go if you’re done.”

When they were all ready, they had all changed back into their Rotadon Dynamics outfits, and despite any conviction to the contrary, at least Ravalor had holstered his gun again. Aeven wasn’t so blue-eyed to believe they wouldn’t need it. Even if only for intimidation tactics. He took his own rifle for the same reason, adding it to the weight on his back next to the hammer.

While Ravalor raised his hands for the portal, Aeven felt nervous. But it wasn’t quite him — it was the Hammer.

Something had unsettled her to the point of distress, and Aeven was sure it had to do with that other wizard they had just met. The stranger the Hammer had decided was trustworthy. What did she know?

The Hammer couldn’t quite tell him. Aeven could feel the Hammers’ presence and mood as much as he knew she could his, now after his immortalization, even stronger than ever before, but they didn’t actually talk. (This was probably the only thing that had saved him in the past from being labelled as a complete lunatic whenever he tried to express the connection he felt to this weapon to anyone who wasn’t a wizard.) But right now, he wished there would be a way for her to tell him with no uncertain words what was wrong.

The portal opened up, and Aeven let out a held breath the moment nothing on the other side spontaneously exploded. It seemed that Ravalor had found a safe spot — a free spot.

It was very dark on the other side, and the storage space was only illuminated by the portal’s light. This was a good sign, as no light probably meant no people.

The Northman stepped through first, followed by Aeven himself and Ravalor before the portal vanished again, and the room fell into pitch-black darkness.

Instinctually, Aeven expected that magical light he remembered Ravalor using when he had met him the first time over 25 years ago. Leading him back home through the tunnel, the magical light hovering above them, small blobs of light recombining and splitting apart seemingly randomly.

When the light that now lit up the room was merely the dim shine of a small flashlight in Ravalor’s hand, Aeven couldn’t deny a childish sense of disappointment. But it made sense; they were still undercover, after all.

“There isn’t anyone nearby. At least I can hear nobody,” Ravalor said as he handed the flashlight to the Northman. Probably to keep his hands free in case of an emergency. “We may need to walk around a bit. The presence of humans is usually quite easy to detect in a confined space like this, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them.” He approached the door and opened it by simply holding his hand up to the access panel to its side. It was meant to require an access key of some sort based on its design but obviously chose to forget about that by Ravalor’s presence.

Outside the storage unit, the narrow corridor was lit dimly by red emergency lights only.

“Do you think it’s always this dark down here, or is there a power outage due to the fighting upstairs?” Aeven asked quietly as they followed Ravalor.

“I think backup generators would have taken over if there was an outage. This may be normal,” Ravalor guessed.

From there on, they all stayed silent. Aeven felt more and more tense with every step. It was the distinct feeling of approaching a sure conflict. A fight that could end with casualties.

There had been a time when he had walked into these situations with righteous confidence, with the assurance that he stood on the side of justice and carried out the word of the law as governed by the empire under his father’s rule.

Now… and here… he was nobody. Thrusted into the middle of a brimming conspiracy, he had no business of making his own. But. He would not stand idly by either. Already, people had been killed and hurt, more probably right at this moment, and the three of them were probably the closest of anyone on the station to figure out what was even going on. He would not let that go to waste. They needed to get Jeshua alive and then get Sigfried, too. Unravel to plot from there. Tell the truth and let cooler heads prevail if possible.

He remembered how horribly that had failed in the last years of his life in the empire and that he had spent more on ships than on the planet he now had lost. But he now also understood that he had already fought against the malicious scheming of a chaos wizard then. And their ignorance about how badly they had been played had cost him everything.

The same was happening here now, in this universe, this galaxy. Because this was the place Ravalor had brought him. And the war had followed him.

And there it was. The rigours flame inside his heart, aching under the injustice he saw in what was happening. He couldn’t just let it happen. Couldn’t just leave. They needed to fix this. End this threat, this chaos wizard, that endangered not only the peace and safety of this galaxy but also the life of Ravalor.

He felt a warm sense of enthusiastic assurance and realised it was exactly what the Hammer desired to do, too. Whatever she had learned from that wizard they had met, she seemed to understand that the wizard they were facing now needed to be dealt with. And when Aeven came to the same conclusion, there was harmony between them.

He needed to stop this war.

He needed to keep Ravalor safe.

He needed to stop the Chaos Wizard Quadirymir.

10 The Child

 There was an undeniable sense of disorientation when travelling anywhere by portal. Maybe it was second nature to the wizards, but Aeven was once more taken slightly aback when Ravalor, leading them slowly through the Fens, suddenly had them step up a flight of stairs to the level above.

Somehow, Aeven had, unreasonably, assumed Ravalor had ported them simply somewhere by the top entrance. Now, it turned out they were, if not at the bottom, at least somewhere in the middle of it.

They stopped for a moment at the next level, which had Ravalor stand in the rounded archway into yet another maze of corridors and warehouse, dead quiet. He held the door frame with one hand like he feared losing balance at any moment. But Aeven assumed it to be a wizard thing since, as he had observed this far, wizards didn’t seem very keen on touching anything if there wasn’t a very clear purpose to it.

Then, without entering the corridor, Ravalor turned around, heading further up the staircase.

Every one of their steps on the metal grating inevitably echoed through the emptiness, but the natural sounds of the station itself swallowed most of it. Swiring ventilation that was built for efficiency, not domestic comfort, thumping of pistons in the distance, a hiss of steam. And somewhere distant there was the occasional vibration ripping through the structure. Being blind to the events in the situation above, Aeven hoped it wasn’t explosions.

This station wore its age on its sleeves, and Aeven was sure that if push came to shove, it wouldn’t survive long once internal structures were compromised, especially not after already suffering extensive damages in the docks.

Between the mash of sounds, a sudden rattling, too hectic and too rhythmic to be just another station groan, made all of them halt in their steps. The sounds came closer and soon echoed in the staircase.

“People,” Ravalor whispered before Aeven finally could hear the echoes of hushed but hectic whispers above them.

“If they are coming down here, maybe they know something,” Aeven suggested. “We should find out where they are going.”

“Alright,” Ravalor said, and quickly, the three of them went further up the stairs.

About five levels up, they finally met up with the group. They had heard them too, and stopped. Maybe they would have run back, but Aeven immediately saw that they were in no condition to do so. At least not without leaving at least two of them behind. There was one woman whose leg was very tightly wrapped with a blood-soaked rag, maybe a gunshot wound. Her pants had been cut open above the injury, and below, he could see the unhealthy colouring of the limb. The other, an older man, was half-carried by two others. He wasn’t obviously injured, but by the haze of disorientation in the old eyes Aeven had to assume he was barely conscious.

The group consisted of eight people, two of them kids, one teenager, and one no older than 8. It was maybe a family. The way they looked at them was hostility, but it was of fear, not hate.

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the younger men said tensely. “Just let us pass.”

“It’s alright,” Aeven said, halfway raising his hands. “We don’t want to keep you. But do you need help?”

“Help?” The man was puzzled.

“You have been shot, right?” Aeven looked at the bleeding woman, who nodded. She looked pale but not yet worryingly so. “That leg is wrapped too tightly. If you keep it like this for much longer, you will lose that leg. We have a first aid kit with us. Let me have a look at it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No. But I used to be a soldier. I know my way around a gunshot wound,” Aeven assured him in full honesty.

“Alright. But we shouldn’t stay here too long. Not in the open.”

“Here’s empty,” the Northman’s voice said, drawing their attention from the corridor next to them. He stood in a doorframe to the right.

Aeven met the man’s eyes, who then nodded, and all of them followed the Northman into the mostly empty storage unit. There were a few shelves and crates. Aeven promptly redirected the woman to one of them to rest up her leg. “North.”

The Northman was already with him before he had even fully called out to him. Rummaging in the bag they had gotten from Walker, he gave Aeven the first aid kit.

“Did it go through?” Aeven asked as he carefully loosened the pressure on the bind-off. The woman shook her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Don’t be alarmed now, this is probably going to hurt pretty badly once the circulation gets flowing again. It’s mostly numb now, yes?” The woman nodded.

“What’s going on above? We haven’t heard much with the feeds down,” the Northman asked someone; Aeven tried to listen while focusing on the injury before him.

“People started breaking the lockdown on the docks, fleeing if they can. GPD has ditched the non-lethal approach, and there is a fire on the boulevard,” a grim voice answered.

Another added, “We heard Dragony is sending their fleet. If so, Felony will definitely follow suit.”

“What’s your plan then? Leave the station?” The Northman then asked.

“Even if we were to get past the firing line we have no ship. No,” the second voice said. Another added, “This is our station! We won’t leave!”

The woman before Aeven clenched her teeth, and sweat covered her forehead as Aeven removed the hastily applied rag. Usually, he’d suggest waiting for the presence of an actual doctor to do so, but in the current situation, it was more than unclear when that would be. So, he would rather clean up the wound now than risk a too-long delay.

He picked up two of the injectors and pushed their contents directly into the surrounding area, one to suppress any possible infections and one painkiller. With the previously makeshift gauze removed, the wound was again bleeding, but far less than he had feared. It was probably a low-velocity, plastic round one would expect in a station like this.

“—we’re going to the shelter too. It’s at least a bit more safe there than it is up there.”

“As long as the station holds up.”

“Yeah. Good choice. As long as nobody comes looking, that isn’t supposed to,” the Northman said; Aeven only passingly took note of the fact that he didn’t know what they were talking about, and neither would the Northman despite being actively partaking in the conversation.

“Have many arrived there yet? We haven’t met anyone on the way till now.”

“Can’t tell. We’ve been keeping an eye out for stragglers out here.” The nonchalant shrug was audible in the Northman’s voice. “But it’s been very quiet now.”

“Hope they got in before it all went to hell.”

“They will. We always knew this would happen sooner or later. Curse them both,” another of the strangers added.

Aeven coated the wound in a generous amount of medical gel (they had jokingly called it WiGo, short for “wizard goo” back when he had been still in military training) before reapplying a fresh and clean gauze over the wound. “I can’t get the bullet out now, you’ll need a proper scan later to make sure if it even has to be removed. But the wound itself won’t be a problem for now,” he said to the woman.

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“Of course. Still, keep it as still as you can till you see an actual doctor.”

“You should go. We’ll keep your back free,” the Northman said.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. We’ll stay close, though. If things are as bad as you say, I doubt many will just accidentally end up here now.”

“Probably not.”

The woman was helped up again while Aeven stood up as well, still whipping his bloody hands on some disinfecting wipes. The group made ready to carry on, the Northman still in their midst like he had always belonged to them. Just for a moment, Aeven actually failed to spot Ravalor before he saw him way back at the door, keeping watch on the corridor. He stepped back when the group passed him by.

Then, the three of them were alone again.

And a light gleam appeared in Ravalor’s eyes.

“You bugged them,” Aeven concluded.

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. Then let’s follow them.”

*

Aeven and the Northman followed Ravalor’s lead again, this time the path was clear. At least to Ravalor, following whatever he saw through his magic.

“It’s an array of warehouses. Not makeshift. There are a lot of people. At least 400 in the area, I can see.” Ravalor said into the quiet. “Refugees, most of them, it seems, but I see many people armed and ready for a fight, too. Many not well-hidden signs of the separatists too.”

“Can you see Jeshua?”

“Not yet. They weren’t searched or identified when they entered so we may be able to get in without causing a scene.”

“We’ll need to be careful then. We can’t risk a fight. Not with all those people all around,” Aeven said. “Let’s try to keep a low profile.”

“I’m sure you just accidentally looked at me while saying that,” The Northman noted good-humoured but then added, “But no worries.”

Aeven actually managed to smile apologetically.

“I found him. He’s there.”

Aeven’ss smile vanished in an instant as Ravalor said what they had been working towards, feeling that claw of tension grasping hard around his heart. “Is he safe?”

“A woman is taking care of him. They are not guarded. He looks unharmed.”

“Good.”

“We’re almost there.”

They stopped.

“So, our options are, walk in there and try to get Jeshuha without any violence, or, Ravalor, you know where he is exactly right now, yes? So you could portal in there and get him out?”

“In theory, yes.”

“I hear a very heavy but in there?”

“I would prefer to do it that way, but I don’t think it would be wise of us right now. Doing so, which is already very dangerous in a crowded space like this, would draw enormous attention to us, wizards, right here. I’m not supposed to be here officially. Ganothemis is already giving me a lot of reign, but if I draw too much attention, not only do I get into trouble with him, but it may also escalate this conflict into a whole new direction. So far nobody thinks any wizard is involved. We need to keep it that way.”

“Aye,” Aeven murmured.

“If worse comes to worse, I can and will port us out of there, but if possible, we should try it without,” Ravalor concluded.

“Might be fine,” the Northman said, “If there are this many people, it’s impossible they are all in on it. They may know something, that woman probably, but not all of it.”

“I think so, too.” Ravalor agreed.

“Alright, then, let’s try to be as inconspicuous as possible,” Aeven said, and with that, they moved on.

They had indeed been close. Only two corridors further, they reached the warehouse array Ravalor had spoken of. The door that appeared to be the main entrance stood open, casting a cold light into the dark corridor.

Without being prompted, the Northman took point and was the first to enter; Aeven and Ravalor followed.

The space was larger than Aeven had expected and filled with people. It took seconds for them to vanish in the crowd, shoving themselves past men, women, and children alike. Many were talking, some with food and water in their hands, and most kept their voices low. The large warehouse was still filled with the buzzing of hundreds of voices.

It wasn’t a shelter for long-term refuge, but there was hope in the sporadic furnishing and the people standing around passing time like they were just waiting for the sign that the danger had passed and they could return to their homes.

The lights flickered momentarily, and the room turned quiet, but after a few seconds, the chatter continued.

“There,” the Northman hummed as he slowed down and stopped, turning around to Aeven and Ravalor. Past him, sitting with a circle of people, Aeven saw a woman holding an infant. The baby’s unnaturally pale complexion really stood out like a sore thumb against the natural tan of most people here.

The woman cradled him against her, feeding him a bottle. From here, it seemed like Jeshuha was in good health, eagerly grabbing the bottle as he suckled on it.

But the woman… worried him. She didn’t look present. It was impossible to say if it was due to shock, an injury, or just apathy.

“Aeven—”

He still heard Ravalor warning hiss, but by then, he had already joined the circle and had sat down next to the woman.

She noticed him but didn’t pay him much attention. For a moment, he just watched the child being fed. Then, noticing his look, the woman looked back at him, which Aeven took as the opening to actually say something.

“Is that your kid?”

Her eyes narrowed, and Aeven felt tense up, but then she slowly said, “No, actually. Someone shoved him into my arms when the panic broke out.” Every word sounded like it was a great effort to say. “Why?”

“He does stand out,” Aeven said apologetically as if his tone could cover for the deliberate inappropriateness of his next question. “I just wondered where his father would be from if he had been yours.”

“I don’t know, she said, almost sighing. In her arms, Jeshua was finished with the bottle and cooed contently before hiccuping. She raised him up and patted his back for a moment. Based on the confident way she handled him, it seemed likely she had kids of her own.

“To be honest, I was looking for him. His mother asked me to find him,” Aeven finally said. “I apologise for the misdirection there. We weren’t sure how he got lost. If he was actually stolen or not.”

“Hmm,” she said, as if she hadn’t quite heard him. She looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not accusing you. I just hope to be able to bring him back to his mother. She’s been worried sick. As you sure can imagine.”

“Of course. That’s horrible.” There was a light frown on her brows. And something in her tone. “But… I can’t just hand him to you. How do I know you actually are who you say you are?”

Aeven pulled out his own terminal and opened up the picture he had of Jeshua sleeping in his crib. “That’s the picture his mother gave me. He’s from Hatir. That’s why he’s so pale. His name is Jeshuha.” He spoke quietly, but he noticed some people around them paying a bit too close attention. He needed to hurry this up. They needed to get out of here.

“...how would you even get him back? The station is in lockdown?”

“That’s something I’ll have to worry about after, for sure. But I’m sure I’ll figure something out. What is important now is that we have found him. And I’m very thankful that you kept him safe. If there is any form of compensation I can offer you, you shall have it.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s alright. As long as he gets back to his mother.” She shifted, holding Jeshua more securely, before standing up. Aeven followed suit. She held the child with one arm as she turned to him. “Maybe you should stay here though — till things calm down,” she said as she leaned forward, and Aeven took hold of Jeshuha.

For a solid two seconds thereafter, Aeven failed to really understand what happened — in those two seconds, a blooming pain tore through his abdomen, and he felt the hammer reacting before he knew what had happened himself. Instinctually, he grasped Jeshua, pressing him against his chest before the world around him exploded into bright blue light. Everyone around him was immediately pushed back and whipped off their feet. He saw the woman being catapulted back in mid-swing, saw the knife in her hand, saw the blood on it — and, in a surreal moment, understood that it was his own.

Like seeing his blood made his body finally realise what had happened, adrenaline suddenly flooded his brain, the pain in his abdomen was a mere dull throbbing, but he felt the warm wetness of his own blood seeping down his hips.

Aeven swirled around just in time to see Ravalor and the Northman getting back up — but so did everyone around them. “We need to go!” he shouted, and then hell broke loose.

Guns rose, but nobody dared to fire yet, not into the crowd. There was shouting all around, screaming, too, and people running — most surely under the impression an explosive had just detonated in the shelter.

Jeshua screamed in his arms as he tried to move, but then there was the woman again, her hand on his, the other about to claw his remaining eye out. He saw it coming, the Hammer twitched in his awareness, but then from one moment to the next, the woman was gone, only leaving for a brief moment a gush of blood splatters in the air and the Northman’s fist where her head had been.

The next step he took had his knees give in, the world around him became bright and he blinked hard. His head felt light.

A strong arm picked him up, and the only thing he could still think about was Jeshua in his arms. With all power, he tried to keep him in his arms, which started to feel like lead.

A bang shattered through the room, but it sounded dull in Aeven’s ears. Then another. His own head dropped forward. There was a lot of movement. Aeven pressed the crying boy against him, desperate to make sure he wasn’t squashed between him and the Northman, holding his head to cover his ears. He felt dizzy. The pain was there but distant behind the blooming nausea.

The screaming became dull in his perception. Distant too. His entire body started to feel very heavy and weightless at the same time. Just moments before the world around him, he barely recognised the corridors outside, was swallowed by darkness, and he passed out.

11 Reconnection

Aeven felt a touch on his arm. It was the very sensation that dragged him out of unconsciousness, and it shot like a lightning strike right into his brain. In that moment, he rapidly remembered where he had just been. Missing the weight of the child against his chest, he jolted, raising up, grasping for the touch on his arm before he could even see straight again.

And then there was… something strange.

A sensation so foreign to him that it made him freeze, just for a moment, but that moment felt like a very long time. Somewhere subconsciously, he recognized where he was. On the Northforce. In the med bay. Once more. There were people here: Teseni, of course, the Doctor; the Northman, holding Jeshuha; one of the nurses, which one his foggy mind couldn’t yet tell.

But then there was also Ravalor. He saw him, right beside him, but he was also… aware of his presence like he had never been.

In that brief moment, which later he doubted lasted even longer than a second, if even, when his hand was grasped around Ravalor’s wrist, something tingled up his fingers, through his arm, and directly into his brain.

He remembered this feeling. It was similar to the one he had when that strange magical bowl had worked its magic on him. But instead of feeling everything, right now, he just saw Ravalor in a way that was absolutely novel to him. Aeven felt Ravalor’s worry for him. He felt his fear, his concerns — not in words or images, but in concepts that conveyed these feelings.

But he also felt the moment of absolute surprise.

The feeling abruptly stopped the moment Ralthor tore his hand back and stepped back. For a moment, he stared at him, looking as confused as Aeven felt — confused but also shocked. And maybe because of that, there was also an undeniable sense of instinctual fear in that frown Aeven immediately felt sorry for.

But the moment passed quickly, and before Aeven could even formulate the question about what had just happened, there was a sharp, stinging pain radiating straight from his guts up his spine. With a gasp of pain, Aeven fell back into the pillow.

“Holy sweet hot potato!” he groaned.

“Aeven, you should lay still!” Teseni said sharply, being at his bedside in an instant like he was ready to restrain him if he tried to rise up again.

“What happened?” Aeven pressed through his teeth as Teseni inspected his stomach. There was a bit of fresh blood seeping into the gauze covering the wound.

“You got stabbed. Again.” Teseni didn’t sound very thrilled by that. Truth to be told, Aeven wasn’t either.

“That I remember. After that, I mean.” Aeven breathed out deeply. The jolt of pain was slowly fading away again.

“Northman carried both of you out, and we ported back to the Northforce once we were out of sight,” Ravalor said finally, still sounding a bit unsteady, as proven by the way he cleared his throat before speaking. “Jeshua is fine.”

“Good. Did you tell Maria yet?”

“I sent Matthew a message, yeah. We’ll talk to her soon,” the Northman said.

The Northman, holding the small bundle close to his chest, slowly walked through the room, whispering lowly to the now calming infant.

Moving his head too quickly still sent his vision spinning, so he closed his eyes for a moment.

“What is going on? Didn’t you say I was immortal?” he asked, admitting the tone of his voice to be rather petulant. This was not what he had expected.

“You are. In theory,” Ravalor said vaguely. “Though that is actually a point we have been puzzled about. You are, right now, healing much slower than the last time. And we don’t know yet why. The wound has mostly healed, but you still have a concerningly low blood pressure. This is new.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one struggling with my new alleged immortality then.”

Ravalor frowned. He had crossed his arms, one hand raised, his thumbnail resting against his lips in thought. Eventually, he said, Technically, you’ve always been immortal. But it didn’t sound like an actual answer, just a random thought he had.

What’s that supposed to mean? Aeven raised his brows.

Have you never asked yourself how you just happened to look exactly like the first Aeven VonTreva? Ravalor met Aeven’s eyes, which gave him a still confused shrug, urging him to just tell him what he meant. That Hammer of yours has been forcing your bloodline ever since you picked it up for the first time. It chose you and made sure it kept you around. Reincarnation, so to speak.

And you tell me that just now?!

Does that change anything for you?

Yeah? I mean, no, but yeah? The hell, what if one of my ancestors never would have had kids?”

“Then you might not be here. Though we witnessed some truly impressive jumps it made to get you reborn each time.”

“Wasn’t No. 7 born by that maid? That was a scandal. Or was that 8? Ehh, one of them,” the Northman noted, as if he had just remembered and was still amused by it.

Aeven closed his eyes. “How is it that every time I wake up here, you drop something like that on me?”

“Sorry.”

Aeven just marginally opened his eyes to squint at Ravalor. “Forgiven.” Then his stomach growled very audibly.

“Are you hungry?” Teseni asked

“Ravenous, actually. Like I haven’t eaten in days. Thirsty, too,” Aeven confirmed.

“Maybe his body is indeed still requiring new resources to rebuild?” Teseni suggested, directed at Ravalor, who still had his arms crossed, his thumbnail now clicking against his teeth.

“But why now and not the last time? He was way more damaged then, and he had lost a lot more blood. Sure, he was unconscious, but he was almost completely healed already, even before we came back to the Northforce.”

“Maybe that was still the effect of that transformation.”

“Actually,” Aeven peeped up, “remember the cuts I got when the ship’s storage exploded? They were healed in no time.” Aeven interjected, which seemed to remind both Ravalor and Teseni that the subject of their discussion was actually very much conscious this time around. “Now, do I get something to eat? Please?”

“Chevan, would you kindly run down to the mess hall and get him something?” Teseni requested.

“Of course!” the nurse said with a salute and hurried out of the room.

“Until then, here’s some water,” he said, putting two bottles of bottled water on the nightstand. And I will give you another IV. Even if we’re wrong and your body doesn’t need it, there shouldn’t be much harm in it.”

Aeven emptied one of the bottles almost in one go. And it was, temporarily, the most wonderful and refreshing taste he had ever tasted.

The small babbling of Jashuha got his attention again, and he looked back to the Northman. The small bundle looked so tiny against the massive hand of the Northman. At the same time, he had never seen the man this quiet and downright tender.

Noticing Aeven’s look, the Northman looked back up at them while he kept gently rocking the little child-burrito.

What?

Didn’t know you had any experience with kids, Aeven said wonderingly.

The Northman laughed, and for a moment, Aeven feared the bellowing sound would startle the baby — but all that came from the little bundle was a content cooing sound.

I spent the last couple of thousand years drinking and fucking. There’s some fallout that comes with that.

Aeven blinked. You… have children?

Don’t know about have any longer. Had, though, plenty. The Northman shrugged. There was no discernible change in either his face or tone — but Aeven felt an all too familiar sense of unsettling fear concerning his own newfound immortality.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah.”

Nah? What kind of answer was that concerning the fact that he had possibly dozens of children, and they all were dead now? Aeven, with his still slightly foggy brain, felt like he couldn’t even begin to grasp the weight of that fact.

His thoughts still felt way too sluggish to get any good grip on any of the things he had just heard, and so he appreciated the moment of quiet. The Northman with the slowly dozing-off baby on his arm just slowly walked through the room before sitting down on one of the empty chairs to the side; Ravalor had stepped away, focusing on something on one of the panels next to him; Teseni setting him up with another IV bag of something. Chevan came back with a full tablet of food and set it up on the sickbed table of Aeven’s bed. He had taken the cue of ravenous quite literally, the mix of meat-likes, carbs and even desserts would be enough for three sittings.

“Oh, is that pineapple?” Aeven noticed the bowl of chopped yellow dice.

“Something like it, yes, captain!” Chevan said proudly.

Aeven tasted one of them. “Oh, I like it. A bit less sour than real pineapple.”

Chevan nodded but said, “I wouldn’t know, captain, but Bishop kept this one at hand for you — in case of emergencies.”

Aeven raised his brows in amusement, “How does he even know I like pineapples?”

“I told him when he asked,” Ravalor murmured without looking away from the panel, apparently having listened in on their conversation.

“Alright, and how do you know? I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“Bepazulux actually gave me… a list of things about you he thought important for me to know. Which inexplicably included food preferences. I assumed to make me aware of any allergies. Or at least I would have thought so if you had any.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Wait, Pazu is alive?” A heavy relief filled him. Bepazulux, Treva’s court wizard, had been at his side when he first arrived on that nightmarish copy of Earth. And Aeven had seen him die there, protecting him when Aeven’s hammer had failed him. But he also knew, by now, that death really wasn’t something definitive when it came to wizards.

Ravalor finally turned back to him.

“He is. And he has been very concerned about you. He wants to talk to you soon, to bring you back to your Universe. But we do have to delay that.”

The genuine relief he had felt hearing Bepazulux had survived was imminently doused by dismay. “Right…” Aeven shook his head slightly. He kept quiet with too many thoughts in his head while he continued to eat. Teseni had gone to his office. The Northman was at least dozing off on the chair, still with the child resting against his chest and shoulder. Ravalor was still at the panel.

After about 20 minutes, after which Aeven had eaten way more than he had expected, Ravalor finally came back over to him.

“It appears to be working. Your blood pressure is starting to rise at an impressive rate already. How do you feel?”

Finishing up the last pieces of fake pineapple, Aeven said, “Way better. Pain is gone completely.”

“That’s a relief.”

Aeven could believe it after experiencing Ravalor’s concern for him firsthand just half an hour ago. He hesitated, wanting to ask Ravalor about that feeling, ask him about what had happened there when he had grasped his wrist, as it undoubtedly had to be something magical.

But it felt… improper to do so. If it had been anything more than his from blood-loss delirious mind hallucinating things, possibly brought on by some trauma relating to the last time he had suffered a wound like this by his own hand no less and the insane event after it, if It had been indeed more than that — If whatever magical ability his body now possessed had allowed him to literally glimpse into Ravalor’s thoughts and feelings, it was a horrifying breach into his privacy. He had no right to know of it unless Ravalor told him about it.

Now that their relationship was starting to develop into what Aeven would truly call trust and genuine friendship, he couldn’t dare betray his trust like that. And then point it out, using that knowledge he shouldn’t have.

And so…

Aeven just smiled and said, “Aye, because we still have things to do. Give me 20 more minutes, and I’m good to go, I think.”

Ravalor squinted at him with major doubt. “Don’t force it.”

“I won’t, remember, I promised you I’d tell you if I’m not okay.”

Ravalor nodded.

Aeven looked back to the sleeping Northman. “Did you know about that? Him having had children?” he asked quietly.

“No. But it’s hardly surprising,” Ravalor admitted.

“I can’t imagine how that must be …”

A loud ping ripped through the quiet, startling Aeven and waking both the Northman and Jeshuha. The latter voiced his surprise with a half-hearted wailing.

Ravalor was already back at the panel as Walker’s voice came through.

“Commander, we have a development here. Dragony just aired an official statement.”

Aeven swung his legs off the bed, carefully leaning forward so he could better see the panel, too. He expected another sting of pain, but there wasn’t more than a light ache left.

When the picture of Walker on the panel switched to the image of a man, Aeven remembered him immediately. It was Siegfried’s twin brother, Franz. While not identical twins, the resemblance was still obvious.

Prince Franz looked tense and stern in his military uniform but very well composed, considering the speech he then gave.

“This is Prinz Franz of the great Kaiserreich of Dragony, speaking on behalf of my father, Unico the Fifth, Kaiser of Dagrony.

“We are ashamed and strongly denounce the actions taken by Prinz Sigfried, who acted without orders or approval from the Kaiser. We were not aware of his plans and will do everything in our power to bring Prinz Sigfried to justice for this outrageous betrayal of our Kaiser, our values, and our honour.

“We are sending forces to Dinaric to assure the safety of the station and take Prinz Sigfried into custody.

“My hope is that we can resolve this conflict peacefully. We implore the people of Dinaric and Felony to stand down to avoid further bloodshed. ”

Aeven looked to Ravalor, Ravalor looked back.

“We need to get him out of there right now.”

12 The Prince

Aeven stood up.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Ravalor asked, intently searching his face for any sign of discomfort.

“I am,” Aeven promised him. “As far as I can tell. The pain is gone. And I’m no longer cold. On the contrary, actually, I feel my entire body is burning up.”

“I’m not sure that is good either, but at least you don’t have a fever; I can tell you that much,” Ravalor noted as he turned to the Northman. “You’ll stay with Jeshuha since you’re positively the only one on board having any experience handling children of that age.”

“Fair enough.” The Northman shrugged, then murmured to Jeshua, “We’ll see who handles who then, hum?” who by then had very enthusiastically grabbed the Northman’s beard, tugging on it in absolute delight. This did not seem to faze the Northman whatsoever.

“We’ll be in and out. If he isn’t there anymore, we’ll get back here immediately,” Ravalor added, making the plan clear to both Aeven and the Northman.

Teseni, maybe notified by Ravalor or just having heard the commotion, emerged from his office in a hurry. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t get up!”

“I got better?” Aeven, already with his shirt in his hands, said apologetically.

“Ravalor!”

“He got better,” Ravalor just repeated flatly while Aeven put on his shirt. Chevan handed him his overalls; apparently, his clothes had already been washed because based on the dramatic cut in its midsection it was the same he had worn before.

“Alright. Okay. Sure. Better. Do not exhaust yourself too much. We don’t know yet how your healing is working, and before we do, you should be more careful.”

“I usually really try to be.” Aeven sighed. “Honestly, I could do with not getting stabbed ever again at this point. Or if unavoidable, at least not in the stomach again.”

“Yeah. Given the trajectory this far; first the heart, then stomach, now lower abdomen; I would worry about where the next one would hit,” the Northman noted sagely.

“Please don’t say that,” Aeven groaned. He felt a weird shudder running down his spine because just light heartedly talking about having been fatally stabbed three times this far was something his brain didn’t quite want to comprehend yet. This wasn’t normal, even for immortal people, right?

He picked up his Hammer, which was standing next to his bed. She was unwrapped now, and he doubted he would need to hide her again. They would go straight to Sigfried’s cell and out again.

“Alright?” Aeven straightened up and looked at Ravalor, who stepped closer. He gave him a brief nod before raising his hands.

“I’ll open the portal between us in the middle of his cell. There is a chance I just accidentally port him straight here. If not, you’ll have a full view of his cell from your side; I will from mine. If you see anything off, tell me immediately to drop the portal. Only if he is there will we go through.”

“Understood.” Aeven took a deep breath as the sparkling light appeared in the air between them. No two seconds later, the portal snapped open.

And he directly looked at Siegfried.

The prince sat on a metal slap that might have been a bed. The moment the portal snapped open, he twitched up from his bent-over position, staring at the portal and, consequently, Aeven.

“He’s there,” he said and stepped through.

The next moment, he was in the cell, standing before Siegfried, who had jumped up from his bed. Ravalor was behind him as the portal closed. With raised hands, a nauseating pulse of light went through the room, making Aeven blink. The lights failed in an instant, turning the cell pitch black before a magical light doused them in blue light.

Siegfried before him looked absolutely terrified — but also, behind the fright, tired and broken. His eyes were bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in a while or just recently cried.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“Maria sent us. We have Jeshua. He is safe!” Aeven quickly said.

Sigfried’s expression changed abruptly from fear to relief to anxious realisation as he looked to Ravalor, “You’re the Kingmaker?”

“Right now, we’re just some people here to save you. You need to come with us. Now,” Ravalor said tight-lipped.

“Where is my son?”

“He’s on our ship. We’ll get you to him,” Aeven promised. “Ravalor?”

A new portal snapped open in the room. Unlike the one before, this one gleamed in all colours, not just the turquoise blue. Aeven didn’t pay any attention to that fact.

“No. I need to know that he’s safe now. I can’t leave. If they—” Sigfried stepped back.

They could hear voices on the other side of the door, trying to open it. Undoubtedly, the guards had very much noticed whatever Ravalor had done to this cell.

“We need to go,” Ravalor said, strained, a low tremble in his hands.

“Siegfried, you have to trust us,” Aeven said urgingly. Siegfried met his eyes, and Aeven could see how terrified the man was. “Please.”

A loud bang at the door, followed by metallic scraping sounds.

And finally, Sigfried stepped forward.

“Alright, hurry!”

All three of them passed through the portal and reappeared back on the Northforce. Or so Aeven thought.

Aeven didn’t recognize the room they were in. It was a bare room with bright walls and just a single plain rectangular shape in the middle that could be classified as a table.

Ravalor was the last to pass through. The moment the portal closed, something dramatically changed. Suddenly, the entire room seemed electrically charged, and the previously neutral white light turned to a near-threatening violet hue that strained his eyes.

“Ravalor what—” Aeven began.

“Where is my son?!” Sigfried asked again, and he seemed to realise that something was off.

“I’m sorry for this, but we have to make sure you are who you appear to be before I can let you see your son again. For his own safety,” Ravalor said, a noticeable strain in his voice. “Stay still.”

Aeven stayed silent, and to his surprise, so did Sigfried. There was something in the way Ravalor spoke that left no room for debate. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. An order from a being that could kill them with a wave of his hand — and for the first time in his life, Aeven really grasped how much of a threat that was. He had grown up with wizards all his life, and they had never given him a reason to fear them. On the contrary, as the one carrying the Hammer, every wizard he had ever met had only ever met him with respect. But in this moment, he understood the terror Sigfried experienced. And he couldn’t tear his eyes from Ravalor, whose eyes and hands glowed as a strange mist poured into the room, seemingly controlled by Ravalor himself.

“What is that?” Still, panic rose in Sigfried’s eyes. He was helpless, completely at their mercy. There was cruelty to this, and Aeven would want to ease his fear in an instant if only he himself would know what was going on.

“Stay still, keep breathing. This may sting a bit. But it won’t harm you.”

Next to them, a panel rose up, starting to display body data. Ravalor’s eyes were fixed on the display.

“He’s Sigfried. At least he’s not a human doppelgänger. I compared his DNA with that of Jeshua, and they are a match.” Ravalor finally explained what was even going on. “Still, he could be a wizard…”

It probably wasn’t the time to ask how, in god’s name, if the DNA was a match, it still could be someone else wizard or not, so Aeven asked instead, “How do we make sure he isn’t?”

“We can’t. Not without extensive, fatal harm to this body. Especially if he is human.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I am a human?! Please let me see my son now!”

Ravalor met his eyes for a moment, and there was a silent question in it.

Do you trust him?

Aeven looked back to Sigfried, who looked like he was just about ready to fight both of them with his bare hands if he had to. Even if it would kill him, it was exactly that fact that strengthened Aeven’s trust in this man.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Aeven said carefully. In the silence that followed his words, he knew what Ravalor thought. He knew they both hoped to be right about this, but Ravalor trusted his judgement.

Finally, Ravalor granted Siegfried his wish. He created a new portal, and, seeing the Northman holding Jeshua on the Northforce, Siegfried put all caution aside and was the first through.

By the time Aeven had stepped through, Siegfried had already taken the child from the Northman. He was crying silently. And so, for a moment, none of them said anything.

Then Ravalor opened up another portal, and a second later, Maria and Matthew stepped through.

“Oh my god—” her voice broke with relief as Maria embraced Sigfried, their child between them. “You’re okay.”

Siegfried wept, holding them both close to himself. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I hate to interrupt, but unfortunately, he’s right, and we need to talk about this right now,“ Ravalor finally said. While Aeven couldn’t deny the sense of rudeness, it was not unreasonable to get back on track, so he was glad Ravalor was the one to drag them back on it.

Reluctantly, the loving couple turned their attention to Ravalor with maybe a hint of subconscious resentment Aeven imagined. Here, they were finally reunited, and the wizard reminded everyone that things were just bad. Wizards really had a knack for that. Maria followed Siegfried as he sat down on the forlorn couch inside Ravalor’s office. Already by that point, Sigfried’s attention was back again with his son in his arms. Matthew had kept close to Maria and now stood next to the couple. From the three, not counting the infant, he most certainly was paying the most attention to Ravalor and Aeven now.

“What do you mean? What has happened?” Maria asked, her hand brushing lightly through Jeshua’s hair. The little baby seemed, if anything, puzzled by the sudden amount of attention and was quiet for now.

“There is a war coming. And we need to stop it,” Aeven said.

“Did you do what you said you did?” Ravalor asked bluntly as ever.

“Of course not!” Siegfried’s outrage was as abrupt as it was genuine, every syllable filled with regret. “I was told to make that statement or else Jeshua would be harmed. I had no choice.”

Aeven nodded grimly. “We suspected as much. That, however, leaves us with an active crisis at our hands.” There was a lot of blame to put on the prince. But this wasn’t the time or place to debate the morals of the situation.

“Do you have any idea who is responsible?” Ravalor asked.

“I don’t know. The men that held me were masked and had altered their voices. I didn’t notice anything that would identify them,” Siegfried said.

“I see.”

“So—” the Northman said, leaning back on his chair. Well, Ravalor’s chair. After handing the baby to Sigfried, the Northman had sat down behind Ravalor’s desk, brazenly placing his feet on the desk, arms crossed, like they all had forgotten that, actually, he was the admiral on board. “Who would want to fuck with you? And who knows about Jeshua.”

Siegfried shook his head. “There is— there can’t be any overlap between those two. Of course, I have enemies; I’m a public and political figure, but none of them could have known of Jeshua.”

“Who knew about Jeshua, Sigfried?” Aeven asked again, gently urging him to actually answer the question because he feared by the frown on Ravalor’s face that he might be less subtle about telling Sigfried that beating around the bush was wasting valuable time.

Siegfried took a deep breath. “I only first told Franz, my brother, for council. He urged me to talk with Elena about it, too, and we did. Trying to figure out how best to go public with it. But nobody else knew.”

“On my side, it was only Matthew and two of my aides, Joshefine and Dorika. Dorika is the one who is pretending to be his mother,” Maria added.

Matthew leaned forward. “I don’t see any of the two betraying our trust like this. I don’t even see how or what for. Josefine and Dorika have been sisters of faith and our blood since childhood. There is nothing they gain from this.”

“Yes, it does appear more likely to be a plot coming from the affected system,” Ravalor noted. “Dinaric, by now, is certainly very much aware that you are, in fact, missing from your cell. That means whoever is responsible may learn of it soon, too.” He pulled out his datatab and opened up a line of communication to the Northforce. After a two-second delay, Walker answered.

“Commander?”

“Walker, what is Dinaric’s status?”

“Complete lockdown, Dragony’s fleet is inbound, and Felony is mobilising as well. I had the Northforce run a few possible scenarios, and the possible first point of open conflict would be about 4 hours from now If things escalate further from here. Dragony is having a headstart and will arrive at Dinaric an hour before Felony’s fleet will.”

“God…” Sigfried buried his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Then he looked up, “I need to talk to Franz. He needs to know that all of this is a set-up!”

Ravalor, who still stood next to them, grimly overlooking their conversation in silence, finally spoke up. “You shouldn’t do that.”

Aeven met his eyes for a moment, and he immediately understood the uncomfortable possibility Ravalor saw.

“If your brother and sister were the only people who knew — they are right now the prime suspects for all of this. There is no benefit to anyone on Hatir nor consequences. This is a plot that affects Dinaric and, consequently, Dragony and Felony. You’re the crown prince, and your father is in poor health. If you are discredited, they benefit,” Aeven said carefully, earning himself an approving, though tired, nod from Ravalor.

Siegfried stared at them, wide-eyed, but there was anger too. “They need to know! They are starting a war!”

“No. Either any of them is responsible, or they are only reacting to what you started,” Ravalor said bluntly and while he was right, Aeven wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t exactly the most diplomatic statement — especially concerning the undoubtedly stressed state of mind Sigfried would be in now. But he realised that it wasn’t just Sigfried. Aeven himself felt the exhausting drag on his bones now that he just sat here, and looking at Ravalor, he noticed that all too familiar tiredness in the way he stood to the tone in his voice more clearly than ever before.

“I was trying to save my child!” Sigfried noticeably raised his voice in anger.

“Aware.”

“Let’s not get hung up on that now — that’s done and over with. Jeshua is safe. Now we have to fix the rest of it!” Aeven quickly interjected. “Dinaric is in a state of civil war right now, and any moment we waste risks more innocent people getting caught in the crossfire. We have 4 hours before things may escalate even further.”

“Agreed,” Ravalor said. “I suggest Sigfried comes with us. We may need his insights. I’ll try to get someone to stay with you, Maria, and Jeshua for the time being, at least till this matter is resolved. It appears more and more a purely human conspiracy, but just to be on the safe side.”

“Thank you,” Maria said, but Aeven’s attention stayed on Ravalor. Now that he had paid attention to it, there was an undeniable tiredness in his voice. Siegfried, of course, too — but his expression remained yet more haunted than tired.

The Northman, in comparison, seemed perfectly fine. Aeven acknowledged that he, as the only one of them, had had at least a chance to take a nap on the last day. It had been the middle of the night when all this started, after all.

From here on out, they would need to be careful, even more so than before, not to allow exhaustion to cause mistakes.

“We should go back to Hatir,” Maria said quietly. And Matthew agreed. It was clear that Siegfried would give the world to just go with them, but he also insisted that he had to fix this mess he had caused. Aeven barely overheard the low talk of the couple but he felt assured in Siegfried’s conviction from what little he caught.

Siegfried leaned in to say goodbye to Maria, and they gave them an emotional moment. The Northman got up from behind Ravalor’s desk, ready to leave, and Aeven followed.

Or at least that had been the intention. The moment he turned, however, the world before his eyes started to bloom, and everything faded away to darkness.

He didn’t fully pass out — but the next thing he really was aware of was Ravalor at his side, holding him upright.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah-” Aeven blinked hard, trying to clear his foggy mind. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Well, you did lose a lot of blood, so yeah.” The Northman agreed on that assessment.”

Unexpectedly, Ravalor took his forearm and held it tightly. “Your blood pressure is still lower than normal.” And adding much more quietly, “You’re still not healing as fast as before.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aeven urged, but when Ravalor made no attempt to actually move, and he met his eyes again, he added, “It’s going to be alright. We need to fix this.”

“This isn’t your battle.”

“There are people dying there. Right now. We can do something about it. We at least need to try.”

Ravalor nodded briskly and let go of his harm. You’re right.

13 Information

Back in the briefing room of the Northforce, Aeven was the first to sit down, and Siegfried took it as an invitation to do the same, though tentatively. The Northman circled the table halfway but kept standing at one end of the desk, arms crossed like he was deliberately mirroring Ravalor who stood at the other end. Aeven would have, with a mind molded by years of diplomatic and political involvements, suspected anyone else of a power play challenge. But Ravalor acknowledged the Northman’s position with a downright approving nod.

Ravalor stayed quiet for a moment, in which he didn’t seem to look at any of them. Maybe he was sorting his thoughts. Or he was in council with his other Parts, Aeven supposed. There appeared to be a near instant form of communication between them based on everything he had seen this far and — what he now knew to recontextualise. While he had in fact met three Parts of Ravalor already, and he didn’t doubt for a second any of them to actually be Ravalor, he still struggled to make sense of him being here and wherever else at the same time. Not in the way he easily could rationalize his own counterpart in this Universe existing. They were, after all, two distinctly separate people no matter how similar. But these Parts Ravalor spoke of were not that. They were all together one person. Well, one Wizard. Ravalor.

He found it easier to conceptualize it in the context of the one magical entity he knew better than anyone else, or anything else. The Hammer was part of him — based on Ravalor’s claim even on a fundamental level. There wasn’t a life he could imagine where he wasn’t with her.

Maybe it was like that.

“We have three and a half hours, two and a half till Dragony arrives at the station. We should seek a way to stop them before they do. Dragony entering the station with military force will escalate the situation,” Ravalor said.

“Absolutely it will. And Franz would know that. Why is he doing this?” Siegfried asked — not even Aeven was sure it was an honest question or willfully denial over the situation.

Ravalor raised one brow but didn’t comment on it. Instead, the Northman said,

“So, we all know how this works right? A conspiracy of this scale, rigged ships, kidnapping from another planet, assassination — there ought to be a trail and it usually smells like money and blood.”

“We find the money, we find the source?” Aeven concluded.

“Usually.”

Ravalor shook his head ever so slightly.

“What?” Aeven asked. Instead of answering, Ravalor nodded to the side, and Aeven understood he didn’t want to talk about whatever it was before Sigfried. The stepped off to the side, and as on cue, Aeven heard the Northman starting up a conversation with Sigfried, asking him about Dragonie’s relations with Dinaric. It happened so naturally but Aeven realised the Northman was playing into Ravalor’s hand without any command needed. Ravalor wanted to speak with Aven in private, so the Northman immediately spun up a conversation with the uninvolved party to keep them distracted in the meanwhile. Like clockwork.

When Ravalor spoke, he did so quietly enough that only Aeven could hear him.

“There is no way we can do that on our own.” He looked back over Aeven’s shoulder to where the Northman and Siegfried were as he said it. An uncomfortable grimace briefly flashed on his face as he looked back to Aeven and admitted, “I can’t.”

“But— you did it on Dinaric. Gathering information, getting into their systems? You’re amazing at that,” Aeven said puzzled. He regretted doing so almost immediately as he saw the discomfort the veiled question caused.

“What I did there won’t be enough here. Not at this scale. We’re talking about gathering, validating, and evaluating an enormous amount of highly variable information from two planets and a space station. I can scrape at the surface, get to the obvious things, but that’s not going to be enough,” Ravalor explained. All that was probably true, and on top of it Aeven had to admit that it was an overwhelming amount of work even if Ravalor would sound as dead tired as he did. “I am currently trying to… find someone. But the willingness to cooperate is low.”

“What about that superior of yours? Ganothemis? He ought to be interested in what’s going on here, right?”

“Maybe he is, but he hasn’t given me a chance to explain yet. I sent a message to a Grandmaster I know, too, but he can’t help either. I’m speaking with some wizards that may know someone who would be willing to—” Ravalor stopped abruptly, a light gleam running through his black eyes. For the first time Aeven stood close enough to him while it happened to see clear lines, like fine runes carved into the black before they faded away.

“Good news?” Aeven asked, shooting into the blue and testing if it really was a sign of Ravalor communicating with his other Parts.

“Unexpected ones.” Ravalor looked downright surprised. “I didn’t even consider him.”

“Who?” Aeven couldn’t deny feeling a tad excited being right about Ravalor talking directly to his other parts like this.

“Polaseran is willing to help us. Passionately so.”

“The wizard the Northman saved in Gorgon’s Row?”

“That one. He’s a Scryer and pathfinder. Dealing with information is what he does. And he’s still very grateful that we got him out of there.”

“That’s great! When does he arrive?”

“Now.”

Indeed, only a few seconds later, a magnificently sparkling portal of all colours opened near the door.

The wizard that stepped through looked near unrecognizable to the broken man the Northman had dragged out of the Inferno.

Now, standing up straight, healthy, and dressed as any wizard would be expected to be in heavy black, grey, and white fabrics, the only thing that took away from the potential awe was the undeniable nervous glare in his black eyes.

“Ravalor,” Polaseran said. Maybe it was a greeting. If so, he didn’t really look at anyone, not even Ravalor.

“Ne ata naz?” Polaseran asked, glancing over to Siegfried.

“Yes. This is Sigfried, crown prince of Dragony. He’s at the centre of this whole conspiracy, so use him as you see fit,” Ravalor answered and gained a set of raised eyebrows from Siegfried for that choice of words.

“Je netaya. Jax visayava vorit go naz. Atosa - je netaya presilky jax ata schastoyo nazotiex.”

 “You’re welcome,” the Northman said, and that first made Polaseran peek up, for a moment intrigued. Obviously, he had not expected the Northman to understand him, but he just as quickly looked back down.

“I appreciate that. It is good to know you too. But please do speak in a language they all can understand. We’re all working on this,” Ravalor said.

Polaseran merely nodded. When he spoke next, the harsh accent of the language he had just spoken was clear in his voice. “I understand. Tell me exactly what you need me to do.”

“Can you work from here?” Ravalor led both Polaseran and Aeven back to the table.

“The ship has a spirit? And a summoning network?”

“Yes. Our resources are not plentiful, but if you need more, tell me, and I’ll see to it,” Ravalor promised. “If you use the table, I can grant you full access.”

Polaseran sat down at the centre of the table, straight across from Sigfried. He wasn’t looking at him either while putting his hand on the table. Whatever integrated connection point there was reacted to the harsh angular runes of magic gleaming up in Polaseran’s hand. Eyes fixed on his own hand, as the table and room around him changed. A rushing of magic hushed over the room, reshaping the very furniture around Polaseran.

“This will do.” Where there had been a simple conference table before, there was now a whole control panel, screens upon screens starting up and idling.

For a moment, Polaseran held his hands, hovering over the blue glow just centimeters away from the panels. His glowing eyes were closed. Then he asked,

“What is my purpose?”

And Ravalor answered,

“I have the data from the docks and security station as well as all news feeds of the last hours. We acquired a tab from a person belonging to the Felony freedom fighter, which has been deeply involved in this affair so far,” Ravalor touched one of the panels of the workstation. “I need you to find out who paid them. Who gave them access to the ship that exploded in the docks? Who instigated the kidnapping and transport of an infant from Hatir to Deneric. Who had the three representatives from Felony murdered? You have three hours.”

Laid out like that, it sounded impossible to achieve even to Aeven, but Polaseran didn’t seem very much taken aback by the scale of the request nor the time frame. If anything, for the first time, there was a hint of excitement. From that look alone, Aeven immediately understood that this wizard had no interest in solving this situation for the sake of the people it affected. It was an act of gratitude and a challenge alike, because it was something he did and did well.

“I’ll need permission from the custodian to do this. And access,” Polaseran noted. “Also prepare the summoning network. I’ll need a lot more than you have right now to create the mesh.”

“I’m working on it. Get everything ready,” Ravalor assured him. “Northman, he’ll need boots on the ground too. Coordinate with Walker if you need more people.”

“On it,” the Northman nodded, acknowledging the indirect order.

“Aeven, come with me.”

They left the room for the commander’s office next door.

“I need you to get Ganothemis not to ignore us any longer.” Ravalor frowned, noticeably disgruntled, if not downright angry by that fact.

“I? I mean of course, but I don’t think I even know this wizard, right?” Aeven noted, not even sure what he would need to do that.

“But he knows of you. They all do. You may not be aware of it, but you do scare them.” Ravalor reached his desk and connected with the console there without sitting down.

Aeven laughed, for a brief moment assuming Ravalor had despite all better knowledge made a joke or at least exaggerated greatly. Before he realised Ravalor was dead serious. “Why? I understand that the Hammer is powerful, but I’m no threat to them,” Aeven said alarmed. He didn’t like the idea. He didn’t want to be feared. And he didn’t want to believe that every wizard he had ever met had only been nice to him because of that.

“I think those that know you would realise that. At least not an active threat. But for everyone else you are like a walking astral horror out of time. The power of the lords you wield is so much greater than any wizard’s.”

“...Astral horror? Really?”

Ravalor looked reasonably apologetically as he turned back to Aeven, “You can literally just erase us out of existence. It’s a bit unnerving.” The screen idled, waiting for a connection as Ravalor stepped back to Aeven, standing beside him.

“You are not afraid of me, right?”

Ravalor glanced back at him. “Would you kill me if they were to send you after me?”

“Never.”

For a moment Ravalor’s expression softened, though he wasn’t looking at Aeven. “What if I did something bad? You’re a man of exceptionally strong moral conviction and standards. What if I can’t live up to them?”

“Still not going to just kill you for that even if that were the case,” Aeven said, and after a brief pause he added, “Sometimes I’m not even sure I am living up to them myself. I guess it’s just never going to be easy, because doing right by everyone is hard — sometimes even impossible.”

Ravalor only nodded and kept his eyes on the idling screen without having really answered.

“Astral horror,” Aeven muttered after a few moments of silent waiting and watching the panel. Then, side-glancing at Ravalor again, he said, “You know, Mom always said I’m cute.”

Ravalor met his eyes for a heavy filled moment. Neither of them said anything because, probably, it was best for the dignity of all involved — but it amused Aeven well enough that he temporarily forgot what he was supposed to do, as suddenly the connection opened, and a wizard appeared on the panel before them.

“Prince Aeven. Ravalor,” Ganothemis said plainly. He looked tired, Aeven thought. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his face looked weathered with deep wrinkles sharply carved by worry more than laughter. Even the short crop of curly salt and pepper hair seemed unkempt. The short beard added another 20 years to that. Being aware that wizards didn’t really age, Aeven wondered how much of this was actually an effect of exhaustion.

“Ganothemis, we plan to use wide scale discovery on Felony, Dragony and Dinaric to stop the impending war,” Ravalor said directly. “We saved the crown prince of Dragony, and strongly suspect a conspiracy.”

Ganothemis took a deep breath, but didn’t yet answer.

So Ravalor continued. “This whole system, the galaxy, is spiralling out of control. I know you see it too. We have seen this happening before. You can not allow this to continue. If Dinaric falls to any of the two planets now, they will escalate. This will drag their allies in as well, who are already being drafted by the Empire. It will only get worse. This is orchestrated. Help us stop it.” And Aeven understood what he was doing. Whether or not this was directly related to that chaos wizard they had seen over the last months, they didn’t know — but Ravalor leaned into the possibility because that was how they would get Ganothemis support.

“How do you know this?” Ganothemis ask wearily.

“The same happened to my empire,” Aeven said quickly, getting the other wizards’ attention. “The same Chaos Wizard that caused it might be here now too. He’s been following us.”

“So this is your fault?” Ganothemis said, without any discernible change in tone.

Aeven stared at the wizard. Maybe in another life, this blunt accusation would have angered him. But right now, as the scale of what happened seemed so clearly laid out before him, he felt once more only that strong dedication to stop it. And so the only thing he did say was, “Is it?”

He saw Ganothemis squint slightly, his eyes briefly looking at Ravalor. And he realised that it was there, right before his eyes. Ganothemis may have wanted to blame him, Ravalor too certainly, but he was not willing to antagonise him any further. Fortunately, it was Ravalor who spoke next.

“Ganothemis, you’ve seen my reports. Especially the one of the Tyr incident. You’ve seen what they are capable of. If we don’t get ahead of this and make sure we know what and who is in these systems, it will only get worse.”

“You may proceed. With care,” Ganothemis finally said.

“Thank you. Do we have Envoys on site that can help us gain access?”

Ganothemis nodded slowly. “I’ll brief the master curator of Dragony. They will contact you momentarily.” He looked back at Aeven, ready to speak but then stayed silent.

“Is there something more?” Aeven asked carefully.

Ganothemis hesitated, glancing at Ravalor only briefly. Then he said, “I apologise, Prince Aeven. I didn’t mean to put blame on you. But I’ve now watched my galaxy destabilising for months, and I think it would be best for you to return to your own universe soon.”

“I understand that. And you are right. If we’re correct, it is understandable for you to blame us. But that’s why we won’t leave yet. We will fix this. We will bring this chaos wizard to justice,” Aeven said. “But we’ll need your cooperation.”

The silence that followed lasted long enough for Aeven to suspect that Ganothemis was right in this moment having more than this conversation. Before eventually Ganothemis said,

“You will have it.”

From the corner of this healthy eye Aeven saw Ravalor’s brows draw into a frown of suspicious surprise. He had banked on Aeven having pull, but obviously this was beyond what he had hoped for.

“I’ll notify the Curator. Keep me updated on the chaos wizard,” Ganothemis said, ending the connection without a word of goodbye.

“That went better than expected,” Aeven noted.

“Suspiciously so.”

“Yeah by the look on your face I suspected you’d say that.” The screen idled again, waiting for the next connection. “What does a Curator do?”

“In this context they are the ones collecting and managing the information the Envoys gather. Often with the help of Scryers like Polaseran. They also make sure the individual Envoys are not working against each other and inform the Medium that coordinates them of such cases.” Ravalor said in a tone of voice that sounded near automatic, his eyes were fixed on the idling panel. Aeven wondered if Ravalor would have given an even half as extensive answer if he didn’t look like he was about to pass out by exhaustion.

Aeven was tempted to abuse that fact and ask further questions, but a low chime in the connection notified them that the communications line was open again. The panel itself stayed blank.

“What do you need to know, Ravalor?”

The faceless voice opened up in an aloof indulgence. Aeven knew that tone of voice and readjusted his hopes for anything of worth coming out of this conversation accordingly.

“I have Sigfried.”

Aeven rose his brows but kept quiet. It was a questionable opening, but he sensed a custom here he wasn’t familiar with.

“He is alive?”

And indeed it seemed to work: the voice lost the attitude in an instance.

“He’s well. So is his child.”

A brief pause.

“I assume you did know about that?” Ravalor added.

“Of course. Princess Maria contacted you?”

“She did.” Then getting to the point, he finally said, “We suspect a conspiracy within the Dragonian Government, or at least a scheme of one of the royal siblings that is responsible for the escalation we see unfolding right now. Do you know anything about that?”

“I do not believe Princess Elena to be involved. She has been taking care of their father for the last months with not much attention to anything else. However, the Kaiser’s health is declining, and we made sure to rule out poisoning at this point. However, due to the Kaiser’s health, discussions of succession have risen. Prince Sigfried, while now first in line of succession by his father’s decree, is believed to be a horrible choice to take his father’s place. He’s evidently much more interested in having secret affairs that go so far as to put his Reich in danger. Prince Franz has been suggested as a much more suitable candidate — but the Kaiser would not hear of this.”

“Do Sigfried and Franz know of that?” Ravalor asked.

“They do. Prince Franz always had much greater aspirations and showed greater care in the stately affairs than Sigfried ever has.”

“Is that why you let this happen?” Ravalor asked, and Aeven rose his brows in surprise by the clear judgmental tone in his voice. The other wizard, however, ignored that accusation altogether,

“Is there anything else you need to know, Ravalor?”

“I need data. Locations, transactions, interactions — all you have on the siblings. If you have an active access, that too. I have a scryer working the data we gathered on Dinaric. The GPD, 3F and the separatists are all connected to this and we need to find out where it comes from. If this is Franz, your choice of Kaiser for Dragony had three people assassinated, his brother framed and pushed the whole of Dinaric into a state of war that will drag both planets in if we don’t stop it. ”

There was silence for a long time. Then the voice spoke again. “I’ll send you what I think is appropriate.”

“Thank you. I will not forget it.”

The line closed, indicated by the small light on the panel turning dark. By that time, Ravalor had already twitched his hands on the console. “I’ll redirect this directly to Polaseran. He will know best how to get through all of it.”

14 Elena

When Aeven and Ravalor entered the conference room again the Northman was gone. Sigfried was still there, though he looked impressively uncomfortable. Which may was a result of the glowing dots of magic sticking all over his body and face.

“Are you okay?” Aeven asked and Sigfried nodded stiffly.

“I think so. But I’m still not sure what he’s doing.”

Polaseran — as undoubtedly the cause for the magical stuff sticking to Sigfried — didn’t react to their conversation let alone taking it as a cue to explain what he was doing. Very wizard-y of him as Aeven would note. Unexpectedly however, Ravalor actually did,

“He’s creating a full body, voice, and personality matrix of you which he can use to process visual surveillance data and the like. Which may provide proof of your innocence.”

Aeven watched the ever expanding array of holographic panels that by now dominated the centre of the room, slowly expanding outwards. He couldn’t read the words, at least most of them, only here and there he recognized an array of symbols to mean something akin to “connecting” or “access denied” based on his own experience on the Northforce and earlier working with wizards.

A communications request pinged on his own tab and he raised it up. It was the Northman.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, peachy — listen, is Ravalor there too?”

“I’m here.”

“Okay so, I know it might sound a bit crazy but ehh I think I found your blood, Aeven.”

“You what?”

“Explain.” Ravalor prompted, his frown looked as confused as Aeven felt.

“I’m back at the flop house right now, checked in on Marka and she was a bit upset because there is this big puddle of, well, blood. Just there in our room. It’s even still wet. I had Teseni check it and well, it’s yours Aeven… and it’s still ehm partly alive?”

“Didn’t you tell me to not touch anything you wouldn’t put in your mouth?” Aeven asked. “Actually, don’t answer that. What do you mean it’s still alive?”

“Ask Teseni. He ran the test and said it basically vanished from his lab a little bit later so…” The Northman didn’t seem particularly upset by any of it. “What do you want me to do about the rest of it? Should I bring it back?”

“Yes. If it really is Aeven’s blood it sounds like it retained some of his immortal features even outside the body, it will be interesting to see what it does. This implies his cells are to an extent autonom. Returning to this location could imply a level of intelligence, or at least enough awareness, to return to its body. Which may explain why Aeven didn’t heal as quickly.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” the Northman said even though Aeven wasn’t quite sure it really did. Not if it was implying his own blood to be conscious enough to wanting to return to his body — which was a disturbing thought. Though undeniably handy if true. “Will finish up here and return.”

Aeven sat down, drawing back one of the chairs far enough away from the converted table so as to not sit directly inside the holograms.

The moment he sat a hearty yawn overcame him, and he scratched the lower rim of the eye patch. It was starting to get itchy again but, patting down his pockets, he didn’t find the salve Teseni had given him. So he would have to stop by the med bay later.

He watched Ravalor for a moment, standing near the table but still some two metres away from Polaseran. They didn’t appear to be communicating, but one never could know with wizards. He saw Ravalor’s eyes scan through the excess of data on display, a deep frown on his face.

He first noticed Sigfried sitting down next to him on his blind side by the sound of the chair next to him. “Not sure he wants me to do anything,” Siegfried said, looking at Polaseran as well.

“He will tell you if he does,” Aeven assured him on good faith alone. Polaseran seemed completely engrossed in his work, no longer even acknowledging his surroundings or the people in the room with him.

Aeven glanced at his own tab. A bit over an hour left.

Unprompted, Polaseran suddenly said, “Dinaric exploded with chatter an hour ago — by the time you pulled Sigfried from the cell. 5 minutes after that there were a lot of calls going out of that facility. 20 minutes later there was one heavily encrypted message that went via one of the relay points. Either going to the Fleet or Dragony and informing them of your escape.”

“Does the public know that Sigfried is gone?” Ravalor asked.

“Not yet. And based on what I’m seeing, what limited news network they had has mostly broken down.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Aeven said into the pause in conversation between the wizards. “Franz is coming to Dinaric right now. No matter if he has initialised this or not, Sigfried was to be held in security, and so Franz would have come to pick you up.” He nodded to Sigfried.

“No matter who is responsible, the fact that you are still alive right now is a fact that is of note right? Three representatives of Felony were assassinated, so they are not afraid of murder, but you are just to be framed. And not in a way that’s not disprovable.”

“Not as long as he’s still alive,” Ravalor agreed, his frown lowering a bit further in thought.

“And if they wanted Sigfried dead, he would be now. They would not have him sitting and waiting in jail. So whoever did this doesn’t want him dead but benefits from you being arrested and defamed, at least discredited in trust, and destabilising Dinaric and potentially starting a war while blaming it all on you,” Aeven said, well aware of what he implied. Because with those two factors, the possible benefactors of this were becoming very small.

“I can’t believe that,” Siegfried said crestfallen. “Franz is a pain in the ass but he wouldn’t…”

Aeven hated to imagine this kind of betrayal of one’s own family. He felt the grief for his own brother, felt how much he wanted to find any other explanation because of it.

But to his surprise Ravalor then said,

“It’s almost… too convenient. Too easily traceable like that.”

Polaseran then finally looked up again, apparently he had actually listened the whole time. He still didn’t directly look at any of them. “What if framing Sigfried is framing Franz? Keeping Sigfried alive only till Franz’ arrival would then make sense.”

Aeven saw Ravalor mutter what most certainly had to be a curse, but unfortunately it was too quiet as that he could have heard it before Ravalor asked Polaseran very much rhetorically, “Just like an Envoy would do?”

Polaseran answered nevertheless, “Indeed.”

“I think we may need to go and talk to Franz after all.” Ravalor concluded as he turned to leave the room with a grim frown. “But before that I’ll go and talk to Ganothemis and the Curator again and make sure this isn’t us.”

“What does he mean by that?” Sigfried asked tensely as Ravalor had left the room again.

Aeven shook his head. “There’s a lot of tension right now because of the war. A lot of fires to be put out.” He thought about what Ravalor had told him before. Now mentioning that term again. Envoys — wizards that had access to the royal household of Dragony. And he wondered if Sigfried knew that. By the fact that the wizard had not shown his face, he doubted it.

Most wizards he had ever met had worn the nature of their being pretty openly with their magnificent robes and hats. But now he wondered just how many of them he just hadn’t realised had been wizards.

It felt like something he shouldn’t have been made aware of.

“But what do you have to do with it?”

“Me?”

“He said, make sure this isn’t us?”

“He meant wizards,” Aeven admitted. “We had some run-ins with chaos wizards lately.” He added, diverting the possible accusation. Siegfried didn’t seem too satisfied with the answer, neither was Aeven — but the inquiry into his truthfulness did not come, for the most part undoubtedly because Siegfried just didn’t understand what any of it really meant.

After a short while Ravalor came back into the room, looking not particularly happy but not too disgruntled either as he said, “Ganothemis assures me he has no further information on the matter.”

“You don’t sound like you believe him all that much.” Aeven noted. He felt Sigfrieds eyes on himself.

“Trust is a valuable thing, one does best not granting it without good reason. That wizard is my supervisor, not my friend, and he has no reason to be truthful with me even if he promised cooperation.”

“You work for him but you don’t trust him?”

“Not to tell me the truth. I do trust that he is following a plan. But we’re not part of it, whatever it may be.”

Aeven stood up again, walking over to Ravalor. He stood close, keeping his voice low. “What’s the status?” He glanced at Polaseran who he noticed had ever so briefly glanced at them. But by the time Aeven looked back he was back at his work. Ravalor briefly took another look at the panels.

“He has the Centurion, B-486, B-489 and the Nasteacker Satellite, so most interplanetary communications. It appears he has now sent the Northman to Felony, setting up some nodes and crawlers.”

“He’s alone?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. There’s a lot of information coming out of Vienna, must be from the Envoys. Dinaric is expanded on what I already set up. Just Felony is still a bit of a black hole information wise.”

“Alright.” Aeven nodded and turned halfway, raising his voice again as he addressed Sigfried again as well.

“How do we get to Franz? What are our options?”

“Intercept them?” Siegfried suggested.

“If we fly straight at them we’ll probably catch a missile to the face before any proper communications.” Ravalor said dryly and Aeven gave a short chuckle. “And it’s too public. We can’t do it that openly. So no. I would suggest porting on board. However, this would be very risky given the speed with which the fleet is moving.”

“In the cutting holes in ships kind of way risky?” Aeven assumed.

“And people. Yes.“ Ravalor admitted. As Aeven in response briefly glanced down at the still persisting tremors in Ravalor’s fingers, he promptly placed them behind his back, straightening up in the process almost pathologically to hide the exhaustion.

“Let’s not then. We could force his hand. Broadcast a message by Sigfried, directed at the fleet,” Aeven suggested, looking back up to Siegfried.

“That could backfire dramatically, depending on whether or not Franz is to blame or not. I’m not sure we want to use him like that right away,” Ravalor said.

“We need to speak to Elena,” Siegfried finally said. His hands were tightly wrapped around each other. “If Franz is with the fleet, she’s on Dragony right now, de facto ruler of the Kaiserreich. She commands the military. She can contact Franz without raising any suspicions.”

“And we can get to Dragony easier than to the fleet.” Ravalor agreed. “This might work.”

“Yeah, it just might.” Aeven nodded.

“I’ll get us a portpoint and you two get ready.”

*

“Didn’t think I would have to posh up for this,” Aeven muttered, as he straightened up his white jacket before looking back up to Sigfried and Ravalor. While his own outfit was undoubtedly inspired by what Siegfried had worn earlier, placing him at least optically somewhere into a royal bloodline or at least nobility, Siegfried and Ravalor looked a whole different kind of dapper in their uniforms. The titular uniformity of them Aeven assumed to be guard uniforms of the palace. Both wearing a long red coat with golden applicants, as well as very fashionable striped pants of the same colour scheme.

The easily 20cm high and also red hat both Ravalor and Sigfried wore could not hide however that — inexplicably, Ravalor’s hair, since the moment he had stepped back into the requisitions office, was back to his usual lengths and tied to the usual low ponytail. Aeven did not belief for even a second it could be a wig (more based on subjective expectations than any facts) but he, again, felt it a bad moment to question Ravalor about it. But by North, he would. As soon as they were all safe and had a long night sleep. Because no matter how dapper, proper and fancy their clothing was — it could barely hide the signs of absolute exhaustion in all of their faces.

One last time Aeven kneeled down, patting down the large and frankly very unfancy bag the Hammer was now stored in. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it again, he had made sure she was inconspiculously packed two times already. But he kept forgetting he did it till the moment he did it again. Though, it probably was less a case of forgetting than the lingering tension he felt remembering the words of that stranger wizard they had met on Denaric. Arven had always been adamant on keeping the hammer near him naturally, but now he feared he accidentally would forget about it and put them all at risk for it.

Ravalor raised his hand and a plain holographic floorplan appeared between them. “We’ll port right here.” One of the rooms lit up. “It’s a designated portpoint for this area that has been kept clear deliberately.” Aeven looked up, then stood up, now also looking at the holographic floorplan.

“Hold on, that’s the palace!” Siegfried recognised the layout.

“It is.” Ravalor confirmed, ignoring any implied question in Sigfrieds exclamation. “We’ll have to go from here, over here, a room close to the tactical auditorium. Elena will be requested to meet us there under a pretense. She may not be alone so be ready for complications.

“It’s only 236 meters if we take this path keeping away from the central corridor, but this disguise will hopefully be enough to get us there without drawing attention beforehand. This is royal guard dress, you Aeven are to be the one drawing attention. If we pass someone I want them looking at you. Not us. Pretend to be some sort of nobility.”

Aeven wasn’t sure Ravalor had temporarily forgotten that he technically, actually, was nobility. Right now he had switched into this absolute factual tone of voice that left no room for any jokes or emotions. So Aeven just said, “Alright, that’s a cover I can do.”

“Kingmaker, what does this mean? Who would keep that room clear, and who is going to—” Sigfried suddenly shut up as Ravalor glared at him.

“Do not ask. Do not speak of it. Never. We are lucky we’re given this opportunity, do not squander it,” Ravalor warned. “Maybe if all goes well, one day you’ll sit there on your throne and wonder if we are there. Do not. It’s a paranoia that has seen empires crumble. Yes, right now these planets have the attention of the wizards, right now this galaxy is in turmoil. And they are trying to find out why as much as we are. Leave it at that. For your sake. And ours.”

But Sigfried didn’t back up. “How can I leave it at that if there is someone that has infiltrated our closest ranks?! What for?”

“Sigfried, I know how you feel, but right now you need to trust us. And them,” Aeven interjected before Ravalor, in his tired detached way, would escalate the discussion any further. “We don’t have time for this. We really do not.”

Sigfried met his gaze, a deeply unhappy frown on his face, but eventually he gave him a brief nod. “Best be going then.”

Only thirty seconds later they stood inside the Kaiserreich’s capital Vienna. The room was small and indeed mostly empty.

“Don’t speak to anyone. If you’re greeted, just nod.” Ravalor instructed just as they walked out the door.

The palace, from what little Aeven could see, now standing in the middle of a deserted corridor, was beautiful. But that was to be expected.

He kept on walking while trying to watch his surroundings as inconspicuously as possible. There was a rustic charm to the royal pomp. The walls halfway lined with dark wood panelling, decorated with brass coloured ornaments. The paintings on the wall in their decorativ faded gold frames where of decorated men and woman, some not dressed unlike himself, but some looking more like engineers too. Along the sides were sporadic pedestals that displayed ancient mechanics, planes, cars, and trains, some machines too Aeven couldn’t even guess what they were. There was haze in the air, that made the sconces on the walls shine near ethereal, but there was little to no odour to it that Aeven would thought of as odd or misplaced.

Past the windows he could see Vienna — the city was beautiful. Brass and copper rooftops glisten in the evening sunlight, and the high towering clockwork spires casted long drawn out shadows across the bustling metropolis. Through the haze of twilight and whips of steam he saw some of the airships, which models he had seen inside already, drifting lazily through the sky.

When they took a left turn he saw two people in the corridor they had just entered, and instinctually he straightened up even more. He didn’t stop walking.

The two men were busy enough in their conversation as to take note of the group of three walking past and soon they were out of sight again. Past another corner they reached the room.

But it wasn’t empty. As Aeven stepped in two sets of eyes immedialty snapped to him, a woman and a man that stood in the centre. She was a the embodiment of all the pictures they had past, with the dark high waisted pants with Bronzen buttons, a loose white shirt and sparkling necklace, and the crown of pinned up curly hair. The resemblance wasn’t as obvious as it was between Sigfried and Franz, but Aeven immediately recognised her to be Elena. She had the same hair, and the same nose. Just her eyes were darker. They lingered for just a second on him before she recognised both Ravalor and Sigfried.

“Siegfried!” She gasped, surprised and relieved to equal amounts. But it didn’t last long before her eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of this? What have you done?”

Siegfried stepped forth before any of them could have stopped him, and Aeven wasn’t sure he should have in the first place. For that moment he was almost more intrigued by the fact that Ravalor had done nothing but step aside, slowly circling halfway around them to the window front, all the while not leaving the man now behind Elena out of view.

“I haven’t done what they accuse me of. Not what I admitted to do! It is a lie!”

“A lie?” Elena scoffed. “Our fleet is on its way to Dinaric right now.”

“And we need to stop them. Felony is mobilizing as well—”

“We know that.”

“You have to call Franz and tell him to stop.”

“And then what? Let Felony take control over Dinaric? The station is on fire! If we don’t intervene now, we will lose them. You may have managed to get out of there, but there are still about six thousand Dragonites on the station right at this moment. So, is that a lie?”

“No but—”

“Three representatives of Felony dead. Three of the most favourable towards a long lasting peace between our people. Our allies. Murdered. On Dinaric. Is that a lie?”

“No…” Siegfried shrunk in his posture with every bitting word of Elena. Aeven would haven hoped for a quick and peaceful resolution, but truth to be told, he couldn’t blame her for being angry. Ravalor stood by the windows now. Aeven glanced back to the man behind Elena who had taken a few taps back and in this moment was in a very similar way to Ravalor just watching. Just quiet, patient, careful.

“If this is your way of passing the throne, I will have you locked up for the rest of your life myself,” Elena said, a deep frown on her face.

“It’s not! I had nothing to do with—”

“What’s that about? Passing the throne?” Aeven asked, interrupting the sibling. Like finally acknowledging him to be there at all Elena looked at him sharply and less than impressed.

“And who are you?”

“He and the Kingmaker saved me from Dinaric.” Siegfried quickly said. “They want to stop this. Prevent a war.”

Aeven reflexively made a little bow. “Prince Aeven, your Highness. It’s an honour meeting you,” before he cursed himself for dragging his counterpart of this Universe into this again (but for crying out loud it was his name, title, and face too.) Fortunately, Elena didn’t seem to care much about his name and title. Instead focusing back on Siegfried like Aeven hadn’t even spoken.

“Why were you even there?” she asked Siegfired, now noticeably irritated. “If you had nothing to do with it, why did you take the skiff to Dinaric? I’ve seen the report. It was your ship that exploded in the shipstorage.”

“No it wasn’t!”

“Officially it was.” Ravalor said flatly. “But the ship was switched with a near identical one after arrival by the Freedom Fighters. We do have proof of it.”

Elena briefly looked to Ravalor, then back to Siegfried, her expression softened a little. “Siegfired, what is going on?”

Siegfried stayed silent. Aeven saw the shame and guilt in his face as he looked at the floor, unable to meet his sister’s eyes. But as nobody else took the word, he had to speak. Because this was on him. Aeven couldn’t and shouldn’t take that burden from him. Not in front of the one person they needed him to trust above everything else.

“I was blackmailed,” Siegfried finally admitted. “I had to make that statement or else…” a deep shuddering breath. Then he looked up. Aven noticed his gaze jump to the man that had stood with Elena, then to Ravalor. And he probably drew the same conclusion Aeven had — because he then said, “They had Jeshua. He was kidnapped 5 days ago and brought to Dinaric. When I arrived on Dinaric to save my son, I was forcefully taken hostage and was made to make that statement you have heard, or else they would have killed my son. I had no choice.”

Tensely, but surely not half as tense as Sigfried looked right at this moment, Aeven watched as nearly all colour vanished from Elena’s face. There was still the slightest hope of it being a very poor joke, but with every second that hope faltered more and more.

“You… goddamn idiot.” She finally said. “Where is he now? Do they still have him?”

“No, we already brought him back to Hatir,” Ravalor answered before Siegfried could, apparently deciding that this was well enough of the interpersonal aspect of this whole affair. They were running out of time. “And now we need your help to stop this.”

Elena however promptly looked back to Siegfried. “Who else knows of this?”

“Until a week ago nobody but you and Franz. Now… I don’t know. Somebody did and set this in motion,” Siegfried said.

“Somebody tried to frame him. We need to find out who.” Ravalor had left the window and had stepped closer to Elena. Noticing that, Elena finally looked back to him. Also noticing the emphasis in Ravalor’s accusation, Aeven saw her tense up visibly.

“What are you implying, Kingmaker?” she asked, stocked, then, “You’re suspecting me?”

“You and Franz. Yes.”

“Why would I do that? He’s my brother for Core’s sake!”

“You didn’t agree with your father’s choice of picking Siegfried as his successor, ignoring the line of succession, taking this away from you.”

“Because he doesn’t!” Elena pointed with her hand at Siegfried. “He doesn’t want to be Kaiser.”

“That’s true,” Siegfried admitted heavily.

“Franz has been overheard saying he too thinks Siegfried to be a bad choice. Franz is highly decorated and well respected, and as far as I know, second in line by your father’s decree. Discrediting Siegfried this extensively, would surely have him take the throne eventually.” Ravalor said ever so calmly.

“He wouldn’t—” Elena stopped, clenching her teeth. Uncertainty. “I can’t believe he would do that.”

“Ravalor.” Aeven got the wizards attention, “I think she’s telling the truth. As far as she knows.”

“I’d tend to agree. Her irritation appears to be genuine.” Ravalor admitted, looking back to Elena, who at that statement looked like she was about to give Ravalor a piece of her mind about that. Fortunately Ravalor continued without much of a pause. “We need to talk to Franz. We also need access to some information. If you tell the truth, we will find who did this. Talk to him, tell him the Kingmaker wants to speak to him. Have the flag ship hold position and we will be there momentarily. Do not mention Siegfried’s presents. As far as Franz should be concerned Siegfried is still somewhere on Dinaric.”

“Alright.”

15 Franz

All three of them, Ravalor, Aeven and Siegfried stood aside when Elena requested a line of communication with Prince Franz. It took almost a minute till a static filled voice established the connection.

On the old looking console, a slightly distorted video feed of Franz appeared on the metal lined monitor.

“Franz, the Kingmaker is here. He wants to talk to you.” Elena said calmly and factually. Standing high and proud, and her voice leaving no room for discussion, anyone would have had a hard time denying her, Aeven was sure.

Stress had drawn Franz’ brows in a furrow. His eyes were a bit too wide as to fool anyone of the tension within him. But if it was guilt or fear of what was about to happen it was impossible to tell.

“Why?”

“It’s about Sigfried. I don’t know much more but he wants to help stop this.”

“What does he know?”

“I don’t know, Franz. What do you think?” Her tone became sharp, accusing.

“What are you talking about?”

A heavy moment of silence followed, the two siblings looking at each other in the way one only look at someone one thought to know by heart. But the unspoken accusations had poisoned that familiar trust now. They both would feel it.

“Please talk to him. We need to stop this and find Siegfried,” Elena pleaded. “If you let him, he can be on your ship momentarily.”

Franz nodded hesitatingly. “He may. But I will not stop the fleet and give up the advantage we have over Felony.”

“Just the Golden Dawn. Have her fall back, hold position for a little while till the Kingmaker arrives. I need your exact position relative to Dragony.”

Franz hesitated, but eventually gave her a curt nod. “If you wish.”

*

“Isn’t it odd that all this can be seemingly disproven like this?” Aeven asked after they had sent Siegfried back to the Northforce and now readied themself for the jump to the Golden Dawn, Dragony’s flagship.

“The seed has already been planted. Even if we disprove the narrative now, blood has already been spilled. The system is destabilised. We may keep it from toppelin altogether, but we can’t make it undone,” Ravalor said painfully sober and factually. Of course he was right. But not completely.

Ravalor stood back at the window, looking over Vienna, now basked in the deep crimson of the fading light. The first light turned on in the city. Aeven stepped up to him, joining him for a moment at the window. They had to wait now for Elena to give them the port location.

“We can stop it.”

Ravalor took a deep breath. Still looking at the city below. And Aeven hated it. It felt patronising — like his conviction was nothing but naive. Or insane.

But there was something wrong about that feeling.

“Ravalor?”

“What if we can’t?” Ravalor finally looked at him, really looking like he looked for the answer in his eyes alone. “What if you can’t? Can you accept that?”

“If we fail…” Aeven said slowly, well considering his words, “No life saved is ever wasted. Even if they may die later. Even if they die too soon. If we fail, we will still have done all we could to save as many people as we could. We will have tried to make it right. It won’t make the failure any much bearable, but we will have tried. Standing up against what we know is wrong. Because it’s the right thing to do — even if we’re doomed to fail.

“It’s worth trying, Ravalor. Always.”

That ever rare and faint smile appeared on Ravalor’s face, “You’re right.” and Aeven couldn’t help the grin sneaking onto his own face.

“You have no idea how good that feels to hear you say that.”

Ravalor scoffed, which hid badly that Aeven just actually managed to make him laugh ever so briefly, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, too late.” Aeven smiled happily. He took a deep breath and before being overcome by hearty yawn he covered reflexively with his hand. Ravalor, seemingly immune to the contagious nature of yawning, lost every hint of that smile in his face.

“You need to rest,” he concluded the obvious.

“I think we both do. You’ve been doing a lot, you must be exhausted, too.” Aeven glanced down to Ravalor’s hands. He had noticed it earlier already, when Ravalor had created the portal into the palace, his hand had been shaking. Even now, relaxed, there was a constant trembling. As Ravalor realised what Aeven meant he immediately shifted his stance, folding his hands behind his back again. Still a poor attempt to hide it.

“I’m fine,” Ravalor said, if anything mildly uncomfortable as Aeven noticed. So he just kept quiet, looking out over the steaming cityscape below.

The door was opened and Elena stepped back into the room, once more followed by that man that hadn’t spoken a word yet.

“The Golden Dawn has stopped relative to Dragony. You can go now. They await you.”

*

They saw the predicament they were walking into already through the portal and yet stepped through nevertheless.

Once more held at gunpoint and surrounded, only this time by fancy-looking guards instead of street criminals, privat security, or terrified security janitors. By the fact that this now was the fourth time of it happening within a bit over a day, including one near-fatal stabbing, Aeven felt not particularly taken aback by it anymore.

It was probably the first time he managed to keep his face as void of an expression as Ravalor in this moment, just by the now ingrained tiredness he felt.

They were promptly told to follow, and so they did. Under careful watch they were brought to what appeared to be a room of similar function the the Northforce own briefing room.

Franz was already waiting for them.

In person the resemblance to Siegfried was even more striking. His hair was longer, a lot longer than on the pictures Aeven had seen, which in combination with the short but neatly groomed moustache made him look a lot older than Siegfried. The array of signias on his uniform made clear that he wasn’t commanding the fleet just based on his bloodline, but in theory spoke of real military achievements and victories.

But he looked as tired as Aeven felt, and may it was the tension that would come along such a great conspiracy. But Aeven also suddenly realised that Siegfried would have gone missing from Dragony for as long as Maria had lost contact with him as well. If Franz and Elena were innocent, they too would surly have been worried sick just as much.

“What is going on?” Franz asked before the door was even closed behind them. Ravalor wasn’t quick to answer, maybe he wanted to let him sweat a little so to speak. If so, Aeven thought of that as unnecessarily cruel, at least if they were confronting an innocent man facing war and the potential death of his brother.

“Do you know where Sigfried is?” Aeven asked.

“I though you knew?”

“Please just answer, we want to help,” Aeven assured him. Franz’ eyes narrowed in very much the same way Elena had earlier.

“On Dinaric. But where exactly I can no longer say. We were informed he was held at the security station, but last we heard he disappeared from there without a trace,” Franz’ said. At the last sentence he looked at Ravalor, but as Aeven followed his gaze briefly there was of course no sign of any reaction to that silent inquire visible in his face. He just stood there, a generous distance to both Franz and Aeven, his hands behind his back in a stoically military way. Only Aeven could see the tiredness in the way he stood, in the tension of his posture, like keeping up the appearance was a strain in and of itself.

“We heard Dinaric’s security is being paid by Dragony, is that true?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where is Siegfried?”

Finally Ravalor moved and with a flick of his hands a hovering panel appeared between Aeven and Sigfried. “There were payments made over the course of the past twelve months going from several government controlled positions on Dragony to Dinaric. Some into private accounts of government and security under the guise of transactions with several shell companies. One of which also funds the Felonie’s Freedom Fighters.” As he spoke more and more information appeared on the panel. Providing evidence for every claim he raised, all undoubtedly meticulously catalogued by Polasern.

“The ship that exploded was built here in Vienna two months ago and paid for by embezzled money from the Pure Air Charity fund — which was created by you and is managed by a Mr. Teswald, who you have a close personal relationship to.

“Privat conversation logs of the three murdered on Felony, all allies in spirit to Dragony, show a personal invite on neutral ground to talk further cooperation. These messages originated from within the royal palace.”

With every sentence Franz’ eyes had widened in shook as he realised what Ravalor was saying. “That can’t be true.” And then the shock turned to anger. “How dare you lay down accusations like these! What is this? What do you want to achieve with this? Blackmail? Control me?”

“Are you saying there is any truth to these?” Ravalor asked and Aeven tensed up as Franz seemed only a moment away from wanting to punch him.

“Truth? It’s nothing but fabricated lies! But it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, if you put these accusations out there, with proof like that it will take months to disprove it! We’re at the brink of war! There will be nothing but chaos and you know that! So what do you want?!”

For a moment longer Ravalor met Franz’ anger filled stare before looking at Aeven. “What do you think?”

“We should tell him,” he said and Ravalor nodded, leaving this part to Aeven.

“Prince Franz, those things he showed you are true. All of that happened. But we are suspecting there is someone trying to frame you. Just as they tried to frame Siegfried.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s fine. We have rescued him from Dinaric a few hours ago when you would have been informed of his disappearance. Siegfried hasn’t done what he’s accused of, not even what he has admitted to do, and I doubt you did either.”

“I want to talk to him.” Tensely Franz looked at Aeven then Ravalor. But first at Aeven’s nod Ravalor took out his own datatab from his breaspoket. The small piece of magic unfolded as Ravalor put it on the table, then a hologram appeared above it. For almost 20 seconds nothing happened, then Siegfried appeared on the holographic display.

“Franz’!”

“Siegfried, are you alright? Have you been hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. Have you seen what they found?”

“I did. How could this happen?”

“I don’t know. But I didn’t do it.”

“Me neither,” Franz’ said, then looked up to Aeven. “What about Elena?”

Siegfried interjected, “She wouldn’t do this!”

“I know that!” Franz’ almost hissed, “I’m asking if she’s implicated as well.”

“No,” Ravalor said flatly. “Which is suspicious in and of itself, framing Siegfried to frame you this blatantly while keeping Elena free of any direct blame could be a way to also put suspicion on her. Getting the both of you out of the picture would make her Kaiser.”

Siegfried spoke up again, “Franz, you have to recall the fleet.”

“No. It’s too late for that. Felonie‘s forces are on their way. If we recall now, we lose Dinaric.”

“We can’t lose what we don’t own, Dinaric is a free station, Franz.”

“It won’t be for long if we tuck tails, Siegfried.” Franz noticeably raised his voice. “You’ve handed Felony a perfect excuse to finally take over Dinaric, and we can’t let that happen.”

“Tell them,” Aeven said plainly.

Both Siegfried and Franz looked at him like surely they had misheard him.

“Tell them what?” Franz asked suspiciously. Surly, He couldn’t mean what he tough he meant.

“All of it. To Dinaric, Dragony, and Felony.”

“Are you insane? If this comes to light it will undermine our entire government.”

“Yes. It will. One way or another, because these facts of what happened are out there. I’m sure we found a lot of it, and maybe you could make it disappear, but with no idea of how deep this goes, there could be information out there neither of us are aware of. This was planned in great detail and executed over months, if not years. It will come out. Right now you have the only chance to get in front of it. Tell your side of the story before you have to in defence of these accusations.

“Tell them. No secrets, no lies. Give them the truth. That’s all you can do now. If you don’t make this public, you will have war. Let them think, just this once, you’re incompetent, not an active threat. You can not gracefully step back from this without beckoning for war. Establish a line of communication with Felony right now and tell them what happened. Their people were the first to die, so beg them for forgiveness if you have to, this is no time for pride.

“The situation on Dinaric needs to be handled with care — propose a joint action to restore peace on the station.”

Neither of the brothers answered for a while. It was clear in Franz’ face that he hated the proposed plan from the bottom of his heart and yet — undoubtedly he saw the consequences this would have, the near fatal hit to a reputation Aeven assumed by appearance alone was of great importance to him, but not at the cost of life.

Sigfried looked at Franz who gave him a nod. “I don’t see what else we could do. Unfortunately.”

“Alright.” Siegfried turned towards the consoles. “Get me a direct link to the government of Felony.”

“Requesting a connection now, your Highness,” the communications officer said. After a few minutes they said “Line is open, they are listening.” Even though there was only silence from the other end.

“This is crown prince Sigfried of the great kaiserreich of Dragony, speaking on behalf of my father, Unico the fifth, Kaiser of Dagrony, whose sickness prevents him to speak to you directly. My greates respect goes to you, and I hope you will listen to me, and listen well — “

16 Decompression

They arrived back on the Northforce through a portal directly into Ravalor’s office. Turning around, Aeven saw Ravalor waver dangerously the very moment the portal shut behind him. By mere reflex he reached out and held the wizard. And for a moment Ravalor let him.

“Are you okay?”

“I just need to sit down for a moment,” Ravalor assured him, gently brushing him off.

Ravalor sat down behind his desk. The fact that Ravalor had an official office on the ship and Aeven, as alledget captain, did not, was a fact he first now realised and retrospectively should have questioned at some point. But it wasn’t like he was about to hand in a complaint because of it now.

Aeven let himself fall onto one of the chairs before the desk, and the moment he sat he felt his whole body becoming heavy as lead — he never wanted to stand up again. He felt like he could sleep right here and now. And frankly, Ravalor looked the same.

“Dinaric will be unstable for a long time. The whole system will be,” Ravalor said.

“I know. But this is the best that could happen given the situation,” Aeven said thoughtfully. “But it’s just the tip of the iceberg isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I’m not sure how we’re to go about this now. How to stop it. There are wizards much more specialised in this kind of... hunt. But we can’t yet hope for their support, not as long as I can’t plead to Ganotemis directly and make him see that this, all this, is the doing of one single wizard. Not without him questioning how I can be so sure. We have to be very careful now.” Ravalor squinted, frowning like the first wave of an ugly migraine dug its claws into his brain. Aeven noticed how tightly he held his own hands entwined before him on the desk.

Aeven leaned forward a little, amazed he could force his body to move. “Why? What exactly would happen, if they found out you just talked to a chaos wizard. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did everything wrong there. And I’m keeping quiet about it. If they find out before I tell them, and they will eventually, I will be most certainly discontinued.” His voice had become quiet with his last words. Thoughtful, yet factual.

“Discontinued?”

“Killed.”

Aeven stared at Ravalor. There was something that wouldn’t fit in with the glorified idea he had of wizards. This seemed unjustified, even barbaric in every sense of justice he knew.

“Why?”

Ravalor’s brows raised like the question surprised him. Like the answer should be obvious.

“I colluded with the enemy. I am a clear risk to order. If I talk to any of them, if I let them get this close to me, then I’m in the highest danger of carrying that curse into Mezchinhar. That can not be allowed to happen.”

“What curse? Chaos?”

“Yes.”

Aeven didn’t know what to say for quite a while, looking at Ravalor like he hoped he would just say it was all a joke. But of course it wasn’t. He could see it in every inch of the other’s expression.

“Then you need to tell them.”

“I can’t. You heard what she said. You yourself told me you believe her. There is something going on, and we don’t know what that is yet.” Ravalor looked past him, unfocused, then added, “I feel… that there is more.”

“How?”

“There is something coming, something just past what I can see. Looming. I can feel it every hour, every minute now. I am…” Ravalor fell silent.

“Ravalor…” he said carefully, “I do appreciate the magical nature of all of this but — Are you okay?”

Ravalor’s silence extended further, still not looking at him. Still looking seemingly at nothing particular past him. When he finally spoke, his voice was more quiet, unsure even.

“I’m nervous now. All the time. Like something is just about to happen. I can’t sleep anymore. Even worse than before. I can barely think of anything else. It’s exhausting. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Aeven frowned. He had not expected this, and in any other situation he would have been glad Ravalor opened up like this to him, but he couldn’t be very happy about the nature of it.

“From how I understand it, you have been under almost constant pressure since the moment earth was destroyed. Which for you has been over five years now. Everyone would be running on fumes at that point.“

Ravalor leaned back. Which struck Aeven as weirdly novel before realising that there was nothing relaxed about it. If anything it only spoke of exhaustion. With his arms on the armrests of his chair the trembling in his fingers was impossible to ignore.

And yet, Ravalor said, “I don’t really have the luxury to let that matter. And there is nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re right. I won’t change anything about the situation. But it does matter.” Aeven leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk now. Instinctually he picked up the black (and probably magical) fountain pen that lay to Ravalor’s right and just in his own reach. It’s sleek matt black body contrasted nicely with the silver and blue engraved waves adorning the cap. The white silver clip gleamed as Aeven near subconsciously twirled the pen once or twice between his fingers, its satisfying weight and the easy movement of his fingers over the smooth surface calmed his restless mind.

Then he noticed Ravalor watching his fingers, and the heavy contemplative expression as his eyes lingered on the pen in Aeven’s hand. Then Ravalor said,

“When I told the Northman to destroy earth, I lost two Parts of myself. The Hermit, who was on earth. He’s almost rebuilt. But I also lost the Stargazer. He left because of what I had done. What I planned to do…” Ravalor said unexpectedly.

“And he’s still missing. Imagine a fifth of your being simply missing… but not really gone. I know he’s still out there. He is alive. But he hasn’t been well for a long time.”

“Why doesn’t he come back?”

“He wants to. Desperately. I can feel it. But he won’t.” Ravalor said quietly, no longer meeting Aeven’s eyes. “Because he thinks that he… that I am evil. In that moment I saw who I wanted to be. And it didn’t fit with who I thought I was. That Part of me just couldn’t accept it.”

“But you’re not evil.” Aeven shook his head, startled by what he heard.

“I think at that moment, I was. Not malicious evil — but cold, calculating… efficient. I ordered the destruction of your planet, I ignored a world in suffering, I used you and when I returned I had set a plan in motion that would have killed this galaxy’s Aeven.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Intentions do matter—”

“Yeah, and results count.”

Ravalor stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on a point to the side that wasn’t in this room at all. When he spoke again, he was very quiet.

“I shouldn’t even talk about this with you. You’re not supposed to know these things about wizards.”

Aeven wondered what to say to that but he didn’t even have to. Because Ravalor just continued on.

“But I don’t feel like it matters anymore. I feel like we have already crossed a line we can never go back on. Like that wizard on Dinaric said. There is something we know….” another brief pause, then Ravalor looked back at him, briefly then down at the desk. His frown was deep and in thoughts. The trembling in his fingers just as bad still.

“I have thought a lot about that moment when that part of me left. It was cold, calculating and efficient, yes. I was — in that moment — a good wizard. I did what had to be done. I told myself that over and over again.” His frown deepened.

“It’s not me. That part of me left because I think, in that moment, I — he — understood what it means to be a good wizard. He didn’t realize it then, neither did I — But I can see it more clearly now. Because it is not only me.” Now there was clear anger in his face and voice.

“It’s all of them. It’s what they do. Because the whole of Mezchinhar expects it of them. They are not your friends, your friendly advisors. It’s all about control. You’ve only seen glimpses of it yet, the envoys, the custodians. Even what Polaseran does.”

Ravalor paused, looking back to the pen Aeven still had in his hand. At the sudden attention to it, Aeven himself remembered it to even be there and stopped rolling it between his fingers.

”I asked Zenozarax once what chaos wizards want.”

Aeven tensed up hearing the name and realizing the dangerous turn their conversation had just taken. Ravalor looked so tired. And maybe they both should have gone to sleep half an hour ago and none of this would have ever been said.

But Aeven wanted to hear this. He felt like he needed to hear this. Because this was important.

“What did he say?” Aeven prompted carefully.

Ravalor sighed almost unnoticeable before he answered, still looking down at the desk before him like lost somewhere in his memories.

“He said ‘Freedom maybe? From the circle, from Order – from Mezchinhar’s iron fist rule over our little part of the multiverse.’ — and I didn’t understand that then. It’s only been a few thousand years, but when I remember that time I feel like I’ve been so young then still. So naive. Because I didn’t quite understand the Order of the world I live in then. I understand the facts. All of them. But I didn’t know how it … felt.”

“Then… now that you do, is that what you want too?” Aeven asked, adding for clarity as Ravalor met his eyes in hesitation. “Freedom.”

For the first time the frown on Ravalors face eased in genuine confusion.

“I— haven’t thought about it like that. I don’t know.”

But Aeven heard, and felt, how much raw and for the first time unfiltered uncertainty there was in those three words. And how clear it was how much that unsettled Ralthor.

And so carefully Aeven said,

“In my experience — it’s what everyone wants. But where everyone differs is what they want to be free from and what you are willing to give up for it.”

A darkness fell over Ravalors eyes, as he lowered his gaze in thought. He did not answer.

So Aeven stood up. “It’s late and we’re both tired. Let’s sleep and then we can pick this up with a clear head again. Okay?”

Ravalor only nodded — and Aeven sensed he had withdrawn somewhere Aeven was no longer the most present entity.

“Sleep well.”