If there was one thing that Matt missed about Earth, it was the ability to send messages instantly.

Well, that and modern appliances. Air conditioning. Having more than enough food. A chance to rest without people needing to guard him as he slept. There were more than a few things, really.

At the moment, however, it was the delay between sending his request for the Mage-Errants and the response that was irking him. The messenger had departed as soon as he'd left the meeting with the Margraves, but it would take them at least four days to reach Redspire. Once the message was received, they'd need at least a day or two to prepare, and then the Mage-Errants would need about a week to march to Coppercrest. He probably wouldn't even hear about their intended arrival until more than a week after his arrival in Coppercrest, and then he'd need to spend another day or two marching towards Saal-feld.

It was a necessary delay, but it seemed interminable. He shook his head over his own impatience and tried to buckle down and focus on his mantras. Melren had seemed fairly confident that his pair of damaged Sources wouldn't keep him from building a new one, and it was looking like if he wanted any access to magic in the near term, the new Source was his only chance.

He'd just come to the end of yet another mantra of Fire—he was getting close to finishing it, much faster than he'd expected—when there was a knock at his door. The lifeguards standing on either side quietly tensed, at least until one of them cautiously peeked outside. They both relaxed and opened the door for Balred to come in.

The Leaffall Orc looked uncomfortable and uncertain. He glanced at the other lifeguards and hesitated. Then he looked at Matt. "My liege. May I have a moment of your time?"

Matt blinked. Balred hadn't asked for much during his time as Matt's lifeguard. If anything, the Orc had been more than accommodating. When he'd still had his Air Source intact, Matt had asked for access to the Orc's traditional spells and the lifeguard hadn't even hesitated. The man hadn't brought his sword with him, though Matt quietly reprimanded himself for even checking. In his defense, the past few days, seeing the devastation in the Copper Hills had been difficult for the man—and history on Earth was littered with examples of kings and queens who had trusted an advisor or guard after pushing them one step too far and paid for it with their lives.

He looked at the other two lifeguards, hesitating for only a moment. "Balred and I need a moment. You're excused."

Both lifeguards gave Matt a skeptical look. By the Council's definition, Matt wasn't supposed to be alone with anyone for long. The stipulation had been to keep any assassins from ambushing him when he was isolated. Just as likely, it was to prevent a corrupted lifeguard from killing Matt on their own, as well as making sure that Matt couldn't have visits with people without someone else hearing the discussion. Matt thought his lifeguards were loyal enough nowadays to not report every conversation to the Council, but that hadn't changed their official instructions as his minders.

All the same, the lifeguards knew Balred. He was one of them. He'd trained and fought with most of them, and in many ways, he seemed to be in unofficial command of the group. That fact probably swayed them more than Matt's orders, and with resigned shrugs, the two lifeguards stepped outside the room and closed the door.

Balred looked back at the door for a moment. Then he turned back to face Matt and bowed. "Thank you, sire."

"It's nothing, Balred." Matt smiled, trying not to feel uneasy. Without his magic, and alone with a man who could kill practiced soldiers with ease, he couldn't help but feel a little worried. "Take a seat."

The Orc nodded. He pulled a chair over to sit in front of Matt's desk. His posture was still stiff and uncomfortable; his hands were clasped in front of him, as if he was trying to contain the tension he felt. It took him a long moment to speak, and when he did, Balred's words were halting and quiet.

"Sire, you know my… lineage."

Matt nodded. "You're from the Leaffall Clan, but not acknowledged as an official heir to your House."

Balred snorted. A small smile twisted his lips. "You could be more blunt, sire. I'm a bastard. A child born into the Clan, but unwanted."

With a wince, Matt nodded again. He'd been trying not to offend the very large, very deadly Orc in front of him. "I know."

The Orc looked away for a moment. "My mother was a lowborn serf. Part of the Clan, but not noble. My father was the heir to his House." He looked back for a moment. "My birth was… inconvenient. His wife had not born him a real heir yet, and was… unhappy to hear that I existed as a possible threat. My father's compromise was to send me away, so that I couldn't be a problem. When my mother objected, she was… convinced."

Anger sparked in Balred's eyes, and his hands clenched. Matt could see the veins pop out on the lifeguard's arms. He felt an echo of that same anger himself. "I have never had much fondness for my Clan. Certainly not for the House, not after what was done to me and my mother. I learned their traditions out of respect for her, not for the man who sired me. Their Spells were meant to strengthen me as I sold my sword, not so that I could honor a people that cast me out. I replaced my father with a dozen different warriors who took me aside and taught me the blade, taught me magic, who made me strong."

Matt nodded, and Balred looked away a second time. "I made my living working for various nobles in Redspire, selling my services where I thought it honorable. I lived and survived in a world where honor was not a priority, but my reputation grew. Somehow, my father heard of it and sought to enlist my help. I refused."

The Orc shrugged. "He was one of the officers in the armies of the Obsidian King, the ruler before the Red Sorceress. When she usurped the throne, she sent Teblas to eradicate many of the captains who might have stood against her. My father died in that purge. His wife and heir disappeared soon after."

Balred drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My father's sister was now the head of that House. We did not speak. We did not know each other, nor did we wish to. We only survived."

Matt forced himself to smile. "Then I came."

The Orc laughed. "Yes. Then you came." He shook his head and chuckled. "I don't believe anyone realized how things would change when you first arrived. I knew the Clan was going to rebel—Teblas would never do anything less—but I had no reason to stand with them. No affection for the Clan, and none for him, even if he did rid me of my supposed father."

Balred breathed deeply again. "And now, as the Clan lies broken and burning, they have sought me out. They've remembered their forgotten son."

Matt tilted his head as something lined up for him. "The noblewoman. She was your aunt?"

His lifeguard shrugged uncomfortably. "My father's sister, yes." He grimaced. "Her House was one of the few that did not enthusiastically support the rebellion. There were others, especially those who Teblas had wronged, but hers was the most notable. They've suffered for it in the meantime, but it has won them some respect now that the traitors have been crushed."

Leaning back in his chair, Matt tapped the desk in front of him with a finger. "What are they asking of you? It doesn't sound like they want to turn you against me, at least."

Balred's eyes went wide. He shook his head immediately. "No, sire! I would never… not even…" The lifeguard shook his head a second time, his expression growing serious.

Matt held up a hand. "I'm sorry, Balred. You've done nothing but serve me well so far, and you don't deserve to have your honor questioned. Not now, not ever." Then he smiled. "So, what are they asking?"

The lifeguard relaxed back into his chair for a moment, avoiding Matt's eyes. Then he grimaced and looked straight at Matt. "They want me to lead the Clan."

There was a moment of silence. Then Matt leaned forward. "You're serious."

"I am. Or at least, they are." Balred shook his head, anger once again coloring his words. "Apparently, they feel that having someone loyal to you would send the right message to the rest of the Council in Redspire. They want someone you trust to stand at their head, rather than someone who followed Teblas."

"And it doesn't hurt that you don't know anything about politics, so they can play you as a figurehead to do whatever they want." Matt shook his head, feeling a moment of outrage for his lifeguard. They were planning on using the man, seeing him as nothing but a tool for their own ends. He'd been on the receiving end of that sort of offer, back on Earth, and he could well imagine how it felt. "What do you want me to do?"

Balred blinked. His eyebrows rose. "Sire?"

Matt tapped the desk again. "If you want to refuse, but not to be blamed for it, I can claim that I can't spare you from my lifeguard. If you want to say no directly, but need support, I will put my authority behind your word." Then he paused and tilted his head. "Or, if you want to be the head of the Clan, then I will back you. It's your call."

The Orc stared at him for a long moment, his throat working in silence. Then he swallowed and looked away. "I'm… not sure. I don't want to be nothing but a tool."

"Then don't be." Matt gave him a small half-smile, a bit more genuine than before. "I might have a bit of experience about taking charge of this kind of situation. I could give you some advice if you need it—and you can always rely on my support. You've certainly earned it."

His lifeguard nodded slowly. He was silent for a moment. "I think… I need some time. To think."

Matt nodded. "Take all the time you need. The Clan can survive for a while without a leader. The Blackleafs are still trying to figure theirs out. For now, you can tell them I've asked for your help to finish the war. Maybe that will convince them to wait."

Balred thought for a moment longer. Then he nodded. "Thank you, sire."

"No problem at all, Balred." Matt smiled again as he mentally started to build out a rough series of lessons for the man. If his lifeguard did end up taking the leadership of the Leaffalls, it would gain him a loyal subordinate in charge of what had been his most troublesome part of the Kingdom. It wasn't something he could take lightly. Not if he wanted the Kingdom to be able to survive without him—and if he forced the Leaffalls to recognize how badly they'd misjudged both him and his lifeguard? It would be all the sweeter.

Just one more victorious march, and everything would fall into place. He could feel it.

Two days later, a messenger arrived from Redspire.

The news baffled Matt, considering his own messenger shouldn't have even reached the capital yet, but he was happy to have some news of the capital. It never paid to ignore the center of your nation, even if it should have been safe and protected compared to the borders. Maybe Melren had even started the Mage-Errants marching towards him without needing any orders.

As he read the letters the messenger had brought, however, his expectations quickly turned to bafflement. He sent for the Magraves, and then read through things a second time, just to be sure. By the time they arrived, he was poring over the parchments a third time, trying to make sense of things.

"Sire?" Margrave Morteth sounded a little out of breath, as if the Imp had been running. "What is it?"

Matt motioned for both of them to come in. Karve shut the door behind them, and both officers dragged chairs to sit in front of his desk. "We have news from Redspire. It… may affect our plans."

"How so, my liege?" Karve's tone was a little less breathy than Morteth's but it did reveal a bit more concern. After all, trouble in the capital would only make the situation in Coppercrest that much worse. Bad news there would quickly translate to bad news here.

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Good news, however…

Matt pushed the parchments away from him and leaned back in his chair. He massaged his temples as a headache—a natural one, from the feel of it—threatened to start. "Apparently, we can no longer attack the Elves."

Both Margraves stared at him for a moment in utter confusion. Karve was the first to speak. "May I ask why, sire?"

He looked at the Orc with no small measure of sympathy. "Because we're now at peace with them."

Morteth blinked. "They… surrendered, sire?"

"By way of idiocy, sure." Matt pushed himself up out of the chair. "Apparently the Queen of the Ponthuul Elves felt her forces weren't sufficient to fight us, and her allies were too disorganized to help. So she decided, in her infinite wisdom, to hire mercenaries."

The Imp frowned. "From who, sire?"

"From the Dwarves of the Sunken Clans. Formerly members of the Noble Races." Matt started to pace back and forth. "They have territory that borders the Elves, so the Queen went to hire some of their warriors to fight on her side. Our truce doesn't cover mercenary groups, so it wouldn't have broken the ceasefire with us."

Karve was frowning too, though Morteth seemed to realize what had happened. "Sire, why would that make us at peace with the Elves? Even if she did hire the mercenaries, she would still have been at war with us, and we would have been able to fight the Dwarves."

Matt nodded, trying to contain the anger boiling away in him. "True, but she was so worried she never bothered to name an Heir before she left to negotiate with the Dwarves. Then, when the Dwarves figured it out…"

"They killed her." Morteth sat back in his chair, his eyes wide. "They assassinated her and took the Divine Right for her people to themselves. The Ponthuul now belong to the Sunken Clans."

Still pacing, Matt pointed at Morteth. "Got it in one. One day we're at war, the next, we can't even march into their territory without breaking the ceasefire. Which would, might I remind you, condemn me to walking alone into their territory for whatever judgment they see fit."

Morteth grimaced. As the Imp started to curse under his breath, Karve slowly clenched his fists in his lap. "So. They are safe from us." He shook his head. "At least they are no longer part of the Alliance, correct?"

Matt nodded. "That is true. And the ceasefire with the Sunken Clans at least addressed a possible change in territory, so they are required to do certain things for us. They have to return the Orcs they have taken, and pay a ransom for the Elves we have as prisoners. They've even apparently offered a small additional payment in order to make up for the damage the Elves have caused. But that is all."

Karve's fists continued to tighten. "Can we at least remove the banners from the border here? We can still attack the Order of Lion's Roar."

Morteth grunted. "The King said we cannot cross their territory. He did not say that the Alliance cannot cross." He looked back at Matt. "Correct, sire?"

"Correct again, Morteth." Matt came to a stop, staring out the window at the city of Coppercrest below. "The Alliance can still cross the territory to attack us, which means we'll still need to watch for them here. That pins at least some of our troops in place while keeping us from being able to strike back effectively."

He stared out the window for a moment longer. Then he snarled to himself. "It's like the Elf got herself killed on purpose just to spite us. How could she be so stupid?"

"So stupid as to put herself in danger without naming an Heir, sire?" The irony in Morteth's voice made Matt blink. When he looked over at the Imp, Morteth was grinning at him. After a moment, Matt sighed and nodded his head.

"A good point, Morteth. Sorry." He looked back out of the window. "We were just so close…"

For a moment, Matt thought over his remaining options. Then he shook his head. "All right. I need to head back to the capital. Karve, I'm going to ask you to stay here and hold this flank of the Kingdom. Make sure that the Circle of Heaven doesn't try to break through here, keep the locals stable, and send word if there is anything big about to hit you."

Karve nodded, his eyes serious. "I assume the treaty will not allow us to send scouts into the lands of the Elves?"

Matt grimaced. "Nope. It does allow us to send messengers, though, and the Elves aren't allowed to kill them. I'd recommend you start up a correspondence with the garrisons at Saal'feld and Teb'than. That should let you figure out if the rest of the Alliance shows up there before they actually hit you."

The Orc gave him a wry grin. "I'll endeavor to keep my new Elven friends entertained, my liege."

Morteth shared in their grin and then grew serious. "I imagine I will be coming with you, sire?"

Matt nodded. "You'll be working with me to hit the Alliance in the west. Grufen can watch our backs while we do." He shook his head. "It's not ideal, but if we can force the Order of Lion's Roar to surrender, we might at least limit the places the others can strike at us from."

The Imp nodded and stood. "Then I will go give the orders to prepare for our departure. By your leave, my liege."

Matt gestured, and Morteth left. He looked back at Karve. "Anything else you need before I go?"

His Margrave gave him a steady look. "Aside from another ten banners and a long rest, no, sire." Karve grinned. "Travel safely, my liege. Our journey together is not done yet."

Matt sighed and gave Karve another nod, and then they both headed for the door. They had plenty to worry about, and as the Margrave had said, the road was not done yet.

Matt set out for Redspire the very next day.

He traveled light, this time. The banners in Coppercrest were needed there, to keep the Leaffalls loyal and the Alliance out. This time there wouldn't be entire banners of rebels running around his territory, so it wouldn't be nearly as much of a risk as before.

The small group of Mage-Errants and Morteth accompanied him, as well as his lifeguards, of course. Balred looked a little conflicted about leaving the seat of his people, but he seemed to shake off those worries and focus on the road ahead quickly enough. No doubt the war would have plenty of distractions to throw at all of them soon enough.

Matt's course back to Redspire took him north through the winding passages and ridges before bending west towards the Spirelands. They crossed briefly into the foothills of the High Peaks, though they avoided riding through Ashpeak. It might have been nice to rest in the High Imp's capital, but Matt knew he'd never be able to stay there just for a single night. While enduring visits and conversations with the High Imp nobility wasn't quite the nightmare he'd once thought, he couldn't afford to spend that much time delaying his next campaign. If he procrastinated too long, the Alliance might find a way to get their feet back under them. Better for everyone if that didn't happen.

As they rode through the hilly terrain, leaving behind the taller hills as they drew closer to the relatively flat Spirelands, Matt tried to spend every moment he could studying his mantras. His damaged Sources still showed no signs of improvement, and he was growing skeptical that they ever would. A part of him was tempted to break them down and start over, but for the moment he contented himself trying to master the Element of Fire.

He nearly felt he'd mastered it as he approached the capital on the morning of the fifth day. The sun was shining in the sky; the stormclouds that had glowered over them had finally departed, letting the summer's warmth beat down on them from above. Ahead, Matt could see the walls of Redspire rising skyward; beyond them, the palace and the Tower of Penance were just as visible.

When the guards on the walltop caught sight of the lifeguards, they shouted something to their companions. Some kind of bell started ringing. It didn't sound like an alarm, more like an announcement of some kind. Matt tried to be hopeful about that fact.

As it was, he wasn't entirely surprised when Gorfeld appeared beside him, trotting along beside Nelson. "Welcome home, sire."

Matt glanced down at him, refusing to be impressed by the Imp steward's tricks. His lifeguards still shifted and grumbled in their saddles, obviously unhappy at Gorfeld's ability to get past their watch. "Good to be home, Gorfeld. I heard the news about the Elves. Is there anything else I should know?"

Gorfeld hesitated, which was never an entirely good sign. "The Council has already finished negotiations with the representatives of the Sunken Clans. Our cease fire with them has been kept, and they are preparing to deliver the transfer of prisoners and funds soon."

He grunted. While he was happy to see the Council was taking care of its responsibilities, it felt uncomfortable to have them handle something that important without waiting to consult him. It dredged up a pool of paranoia inside him, tempting him to think that they were planning some kind of coup while he wasn't around. Unless he wanted to deal with having his own nobles rise up against him again, he'd need to keep a closer eye on them.

Matt grimaced at his own thoughts. Wasn't the whole goal to make it so he wasn't a crucial part of the system? What was he so sensitive about, anyway?

"They didn't bargain away anything we needed, right?"

Gorfeld shook his head. "No, sire. In fact, I'd say they handled things fairly well. Even the Voices agreed." He paused. "The incoming tributes and ransoms might help us with our… funding situation, actually."

Matt winced. The treasury had continued to grow smaller as the summer had started, with the coin disappearing even as Matt's construction projects continued. He desperately needed the war to finish, so that he could return everyone to their fields and homes and stop paying for so many extra troops. At this rate, he'd be looking at empty coffers within a handful of weeks, unless the Dwarves really managed to cough up enough to make a difference.

He looked up and saw the people of Redspire going about their business in the streets. How long would they remain that peaceful if food started to run out? How long would his soldiers go without wages before they put his head on a pike? Matt clenched his teeth for a moment, feeling at the ragged edges of his broken Sources. Then he tried to regain his focus.

"All right. So we're now at peace with the Elves. One nation down, five to go." He looked at Gorfeld. "Any other news?"

"Paralus has been asking to meet with you." Gorfeld's expression twisted slightly as he mentioned the ambassador from the Western Coalition. "He's been meeting with members of the nobility, but it doesn't seem to be anything more than keeping up connections. He may have concerns about what is happening with his own allies, or he may have further news on how your fellow Humans might be returned home."

Matt blinked. At the very least, that news would be very welcome indeed. "Speaking of Humans, how have they been getting along? No more massive projects that I need to worry about, correct?"

Gorfeld gave him a brief look. "Your fellow Humans have been busy, sire, but no, they haven't managed to deplete your treasury further." He glanced around for a moment. "Lady Alicia has spoken with both the Council and the Assembly to encourage them to pass various health ordinances. There were complaints from some, especially the butchers, but it appears the Maiden of Health has been well received."

A hint of relief went through him at the news. "What about Tanya?"

"The Maiden of Art has been… discontent that she needed to delay the opening of her museum." Gorfeld's eyes twinkled for a moment. "Apparently, members of the nobility refused to attend without you there to celebrate it. She's been sulking about it for a while now."

Matt groaned. "So I'll get an earful for that, I suppose. Can Miguel at least get me out of it?"

The Imp snorted. "To his credit, the Minister of Building has been trying. The crews are making exceptional progress on the next wing." Gorfeld paused. "His progress for the first housing blocks has also gone well."

"Good to hear. The quicker we can get people living there, the faster our treasury might stabilize." Matt saw a flicker of discomfort on Gorfeld's face and paused. "What is it?"

"There are… rumors in the city, sire." Gorfeld checked for eavesdroppers again and lowered his voice. "With the… relationship between the Maiden of Art and the Minister of Building, and the one between the Master of Coin and the Maiden of the People, the nobles and Low Folk are beginning to wonder about your status among your own kind. The rather loud denials from the Maiden of Health have not helped."

Matt gave him a jaded look. "You're saying they are gossiping about my personal life."

Gorfeld hesitated again. "There are… concerns." He sighed. "Some have even suggested that the Minister or the Master might need to be removed in order to… secure your own position among the Maidens. They view them as having offered you insult, or usurped your place."

An entirely inappropriate remark bubbled up, but Matt squashed it. Ridiculous or not, the people's perception mattered, and there were few who could respect a King that had foxes in his chicken house, as his father would have put it. He struggled to keep his voice even. "Have they been reminded of the fact that I am committed to not having a Consort? For very specific reasons?"

The steward nodded. "Yes, sire. Most have not forgotten it, but…" He shrugged. "The prophecy was that you would need to refrain until the land was at peace. Some are saying that with the reclamation of the Copper Hills, you might have already done your part. Others believe such arrangements might need to be made before the wars end, so that the Maidens might be well adjusted to their new commitments when you claim them."

Trying to keep his temper even, Matt gave Gorfeld a scathing look, but the steward just raised his hands in surrender. "I only report what the people say, sire."

Matt glared for a moment longer and then forced himself to look away. Yelling at Gorfeld wasn't going to change anything, even if he was really, really tempted to do it. "I'm not going to 'claim' anyone, Gorfeld. Not even when the wars end."

"I understand, sire. I do." Gorfeld sighed again, this time in a way that made him seem tired. "All the same, even with all you've done, the people have… expectations. They wish for you to be secure and content in your throne, once the land is once again calm. Some are saying your blood runs too hot, the way some of our previous rulers were, and that without war to distract you, you'll ravage the people instead. Others believe you might never find an Heir to entrust us to, and leave us in chaos when you pass. And frankly, sire, others might only wish to see you as happy as you have made some of us."

He shrugged, his anger fading slightly. "While some probably just like to stir the pot with as much scandal as they can find. I know, Gorfeld." Matt gave the steward a strained grin. "Maybe the Counselor should give us another prediction to help soothe things over."

The steward's expression grew a bit uncertain, making Matt wonder why. After all, the steward was one of the few that knew that the supposed Counselor who had made the predictions about Matt's need to remain free of Consorts was a complete lie. He didn't actually think that Matt had found a soothsayer, did he? "Consulting that source might be… difficult now. There are many interested in finding it, after all."

Matt nodded. That concern made sense, at least. Of course, the last thing he needed was some nosy gossip discovering the truth, or propping up a false Counselor instead. Then a thought occurred to him. "So they haven't been pairing me up with Riley then? Or has she started up with someone while I was gone?"

Gorfeld made a strangled sound. "No, sire. Those who have met the Maiden of Books have claimed that she is too young for someone of your stature. Besides, she spends almost all of her time with the Speakers or the libraries. Some of the people are starting to see her as some kind of a Speaker herself."

"Ah. I see." Matt chuckled to himself as he pictured Riley's reaction to that. As the youngest of the Humans, she tended to hate being looked at as a child by the rest. Maybe she hadn't noticed, buried as she was in studying the myths and legends of the Kingdom. "Well, at least I am home. Inform the Council that I will attend their next meeting and announce my new plans—and let the rest of the city know that the Copper Hills have been freed."

His steward nodded and gestured to the road ahead. Matt could already see some of the nobles waiting next to that horrible statue of himself. "Of course, sire. And before the ceremony formalizes things, I am truly glad you are back."

Matt grinned, and Gorfeld disappeared into the crowd, making his way ahead of Matt's entourage. He watched for a moment and then sighed. The road might have been long, but it was good to be home.

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