Inferno, accompanied by Samurai, walked through the muddy camp, weaving his way through the crowds of soldiers that had gathered there. Although he had been with the former leaders of the Rowj League for a little more than a week, there was still some awkwardness between them. They tried to keep out of each other's way, not because of animosity, but because none of them knew what to say.

He arrived outside their tent, which stood slightly taller than the rest of his soldier's tents. With an assuring glance from Samurai, he pushed open the tent flap.

Inside, Nitesco laid sullenly on his cot, facing the ceiling. Austin sat hunched over a portable desk Inferno had provided for him, and Gwydion sat cross-legged on the ground examining a sword. All three turned to the sound of the flap opening, laying their eyes on Inferno and Samurai. Inferno cleared his throat.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

Austin traded glances with Gwydion before returning his gaze to Inferno.

"Good morning, Inferno. What brings you here?"

The king moved further into the tent, allowing the flap to close behind him.

"I just wanted to talk."

Nitesco sat up. "About strategy?"

"Um, no. I just wanted to talk. To get to know you three a little better."

A moment of silence. Inferno cleared his throat again.

"Look. We can't just keep ignoring each other. We're in this fight together, and if we can't work as a team, then we'll never be able to defeat Celtic."

"So, what do you propose we do?" Gwydion asked.

"Tell me about yourselves. Tell me a secret and both Samurai and I will do the same. Now, who'd like to go first?"

Samurai raised his hand. Inferno lightly beckoned for him to speak.

"I once had an affair with Inferno's half-sister." Beneath his mask, a guilty grin crossed his face.

Inferno turned to Samurai with his mouth agape, shocked at this sudden revelation. Nitesco laughed heartily, and Gwydion chuckled. Even Austin let a grin grace his expression, though he was quick to try and hide it. Inferno shook his head and regained his composure.

"Well, I definitely wasn't expecting to hear that. I guess I'll follow up; I am a polytheist. Publicly, I embraced Yurism, as I was expected to, but I never gave up the ways I learned in Pollination. It's quite common there."

Austin stroked his chin. "Most interesting. I suppose I'll go next. I used to know Maker."

Receiving questioning looks from all present, he continued. "When I first entered Bumblebee, I was taken in by General Jaeger. I struck a bargain with him: state secrets in exchange for my life. While I was waiting for Jaeger to make a decision, I stayed in the castle. There, I met Maker."

Inferno stroked his chin contemplatively. "What was she like?"

Austin shrugged. "We didn't talk too much. She spent most of her time in the laboratory. If we did talk, it wasn't for very long. But we did have some interesting conversations. Then the Vespula coup happened and they placed Jillian Days, a minor noblewoman, on the throne in exchange for her compliance. I didn't see Maker after that."

Austin beckoned for either Gwydion or Nitesco to go. Nitesco volunteered.

"I'm not a native Rosian. My parents were expatriates from White Rose. Shortly before the Third Shipping War, a group of royalists rose up and tried to replace Kosa and his council with a scion of the Reiss bloodline. It did not go well. My parents were well-off merchants who publicly supported them, so when the revolution failed, they forged some identity documents for Guns N' Roses and fled. They settled in a farming village just off the coast of the river and became serfs. I was born six months later. I don't think either of them has stepped foot outside that village since."

Gwydion raised his hand.

"Greatness once saved my life."

He paused dramatically. Samurai cocked his head, interested.

"Well, go on."

"Near the end of the war, my father took me out into my first battle. I fought alongside my brothers and my friends, but I was separated from the bulk of the force. I was surrounded, and I thought I would die."

"Then, all of a sudden, Greatness charged into the fray and drove them off. When the battle ended, we rejoined my father's unit. We've not spoken of it since."

"Most interesting," Inferno said. He nodded, letting silence fill the air.

The silence was broken when a soldier barged into the tent. He was breathing heavily, ready to fall over. Nitesco hurriedly sat him down on his cot.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

Austin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and shook him a little bit.

"Speak, boy. Time is of the essence."

He finally gathered enough breath to speak.

"There's a division of Night's Watch soldiers patrolling the area near the brook. They're heading this way. I think they saw me. What are we going to do?"

Inferno cleared his throat and extended his hand.

"Well, that sounds like trouble. What do you say, my fellow commanders? Shall we face this together?"

The trio hesitated. Finally, Gwydion walked over to the king and shook his hand.

"I think we shall. Nitesco, Austin, rally the men. We've got enemies to deal with."

The five went out and joined their men, ready to take on Celtic together.

The blunt sound of wood on wood awoke Vulpix from his deep slumber. He threw back the deep green covers, dressed himself and walked down the halls. Yukon's castle had a unique and intricate but slightly disorienting style to it, with important and often excessively violent scenes from Emberist texts carved into the walls and pillars in seemingly arbitrary locations. He walked down the hall and into the peristyle around the courtyard. Jokey and Greatness were engaged in a sparring match, with Yukon and Maker watching from the sidelines.

Jokey swung wildly with his two wooden tonfa, trying to knock his sparring opponent off balance or at least disorient him. Greatness proved to be of sterner stuff, however, when a swift duck and a stab to the abdomen left Jokey hunched over on the ground.

"Good goddess, Greatness," Maker scolded. "He still hasn't fully recovered. At least you didn't hit him in the chest this time." She stood Jokey up and sat him down on the bench, her left hand still shaking somewhat as she assessed the damage.

"Hello, everyone." Vulpix announced his presence.

"Good morning, my friend." Greatness beckoned for Vulpix to come over, inviting the general to sit next to him and Yukon.

"Good morning, Greatness. Yukon." He nodded to both of his friends as he sat down on the bench. "What's up with Jokey? I thought Maker healed the wound."

"Well, she repaired it as best she could," Yukon said. The three of them turned their attention to Maker, who was examining the bruises on Jokey's abdomen.

"I feel bad for the guy. It's been, what, a month since Guns N' Roses? That must have been some serious wound to take him down that many notches." Vulpix furrowed his brow.

"He took a sword to the lung, Chaos. It doesn't matter what shape you're in, that kills most men. He's lucky to have survived." Yukon looked away from Jokey, trying not to be too obvious.

"He used to be able to go toe to toe with Celtic," Greatness said. "Now he can't even beat me."

"I'm sure he'll make a full recovery. I'm not sure my soldiers can say the same." Vulpix lamented. "The Battle of Guns N' Roses was quite costly. I lost about two regiments and was forced to release the equivalent of a battalion of my men because they simply couldn't fight anymore."

Greatness pondered this. "Still, we made some gains. ANGQ or whatever their stupid little acronym was has been eliminated as a threat. The only thing left for us to destroy is Crosshares."

"That's not all," Yukon interjected. "Celtic's negotiated a pact with King Munkee the Outcast. With Iceberg on our side, we'll keep the Rubian rebels spinning their wheels in the dirt until we can finish the war with real threats, like the Villainian rebels or Inferno and his insipid nation. We'll have victory, and this land will finally enjoy peace."

"If you say so." Vulpix sighed, unconvinced.

They sat there for a little while. Maker finally let Jokey stand up, and he hobbled over to Greatness, training blades ready.

"Ready for round two, Greatness?" He tried to confidently laugh, but it degenerated into wheezing.

"Yeah, I'm going to pass. You're not in the condition to train." Jokey pouted slightly and returned to his seat.

"Well, this has been fun. Anybody for breakfast?" Yukon asked. There were murmurs of assent, and they all stood and began walking to the dining hall.

All of a sudden, Celtic walked into the courtyard, Nachbar walking at his side. He clapped his hands together.

"Good morning to you all," he said, a deceptively broad smile on his face.

"Good morning my liege. How did you find your lodgings?" Yukon asked.

"Just fine, though the architecture isn't quite my cup of tea."

"It's an acquired taste. The artwork was here before I ascended to rulership and I'm afraid it's here to stay."

Celtic grumbled a bit at this. "If you say so. I'd like a word with you and Maker. The rest of you may go to the dining hall."

Vulpix, Jokey and Greatness proceeded to the hall, beginning some friendly banter about yet another cards tournament. Nachbar turned down another hallway and skulked out of sight. Celtic led his two cohorts down another hallway, eventually turning into a small room and shutting the door behind them. He turned back to them, his face grim.

"My liege, why so dour? What do you wish to say?" Maker inquired.

"Have we displeased you?" Yukon asked, also curious.

"No, not at all. You have performed as expected. Above and beyond, even. The problem is, quite frankly, that we are losing this war."

"How?" Maker spoke up again.

"We do not have the manpower to carry on this war. We can keep subordinates and willing vassals on our side, but larger powers like Renora and Bumblebee are becoming contentious. Our projection of power is crumbling, falling through. We need to deal with these rebels before the rug is pulled out from under us."

"We have made alliances in Rubia to keep them occupied, but the illusion of control won't hold for much longer. Our campaigns have been costly, and the rebels are becoming more unified. And one name keeps hope in the hearts of our enemies that our movement will fail."

Yukon hesitantly cleared his throat. "Inferno?"

Celtic flew into a rage, his face contorting and becoming a brilliant crimson.

"Inferno! Inferno! Inferno! How that name vexes me! How that name spites me! That dirty, backstabbing, no-good son of a bitch! He is the reason for all our pain and suffering! Oh, what a fool I was to let him in on our plan!" Maker and Yukon were sure his head would burst.

"If I may be so bold, we did go behind his back and disobey his demands."

A single, bloodcurdling look from Celtic silenced Yukon immediately. He exhaled in an effort to calm himself.

"Inferno is the effectively the leader of the resistance against us. His victories, however small, inspire hope in the people. And that hope, in turn, inspires insubordination."

"Never mind team ANGQ, their days are over. Inferno is the mastermind, Inferno is my rival. If he dies, all hope of rebellion dies with him. If we can bring him down, if we can destroy him and his wretched, plague-ridden nation, then the people will be easier to pacify."

"That's all fine and good," Maker interjected. "But what do we have to do with this?"

"I was just getting to that. I am planning an assault on Inferno's capital. It will take some time to gather the manpower necessary, but I plan to take all non-essential troops and funnel them into this offensive. We must destroy him before it's too late. Maker, I need you to create some new toxins. Something hallucinogenic. Something that will pacify instead of kill. I want to use it against the people of Crosshares, so our casualties will be minimized."

The artificer nodded. "Understood, my liege. It will be done."

Yukon slowly raised his hand. "How do I fit in to all of this, if I may ask?"

"Yukon, I understand that this is asking a lot of you, but I am going to need you to stay behind in Villainia." He opened his mouth to object, but Celtic silenced him.

"The people of Villainia are strong willed, but I understand breaking the will to fight is your specialty. The rebels here grow ever stronger and worryingly large in number. I am afraid if we leave this region not administered by one of my trusted lieutenants, it will fall into anarchy. You know this place better than anybody I know. I will allow you to keep most of your troops to defend this realm."

Yukon huffed. "Very well, if I must. I was so looking forward to seeing his head on a pike."

Celtic laughed. "I'll get an artist to paint it. You can put it with the rest of the tasteless mosaics here." The three of them shared a laugh.

"Good talk, my friends. Oh, and before I forget, I'm challenging all my Council members to a card tournament later."

"Really?" Maker laughed. "Even Nachbar?"

"Ooh, perhaps not him. I don't trust him."

"Don't worry," Yukon remarked. "We won't need him much longer."

"I suppose. Now where the hell is the dining hall? You need a map to get around this place." Yukon stepped out of the room and led his comrades away from the room.

A door next to said room opened, and Nachbar stepped out, concerned.

"Won't need me anymore. Hmph!" He scoffed. "There's ways to figure that out."

The scoundrel stroked his chin as he followed them to the dining hall, plans and plots forming in his mind.

It had been difficult for Quixotic to accept his new lot in life.

After Guns N' Roses fell, he stayed in the forests, watching as the towers crumbled and the houses were consumed in flames. He camped out in the woods that night. He thought. A lot. How could he have stopped it? How could he make it up to his friends? Why did he trust Nachbar and not his instincts? Guilty questions swirled through his mind, questions for which he had no answers.

He managed to procure transportation to a nearby village, and he stayed there for a while, living in the back room of an inn in exchange for odd jobs and errands for the owner. Often, he would wake up in the middle of the night, awoken in sweat-soaked bedsheets from another nightmare. Occasionally, he would expect to see Nitesco, or perhaps Gwydion or Austin lying near him. He was met with a crushing sense of disappointment every time. He rode around the countryside of Guns N' Roses for about two months, seeing Celtic's grip on the region grow tighter and tighter. Because of him and his goddamned note, he constantly reminded himself.

He eventually got passage to Emberald, just across the river. There he hit up as many of Nachbar's agents and pigeon coops as he could, hoping to find some information to aid the resistance. What did it matter? It wasn't like they'd take him back, not after what he'd done, knowingly or not. He'd still fled, like a coward.

After another three months in Villainia, feeding bits of information to the resistance in exchange for shelter and money, Yukon cracked down violently on seditious behavior. The rebel cell Quixotic was working with was caught red-handed trying to assassinate the governor Celtic appointed for Tauradonna. What few members weren't killed in the attempt were brutally and publicly executed. He ran, again. This time to Crosshares, across another river.

He tried to pump information from one of Peter's informants in the region. When the boy refused, Quixotic silenced him.

Just another body to the pile, right?

Unfortunately, it drew Peter's attention.

Quixotic was returning to the small hovel he constructed for himself in a large forest just off the Crack River's shores, two small rabbits and a squirrel in his hands, when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Thinking it was another animal, he set down the bodies of the ones he already had and took aim.

Lo and behold, Peter S. Nachbar walked out of the bushes.

Without thinking, he drew his blade, which had become worn without repair over the last five months, and charged. Nachbar sidestepped him and pinned him to the ground.

"Easy there, my boy. I'm not here to hurt you."

Quixotic tried to struggle, but he was unable to escape Nachbar's grip.

"I'm here to propose a deal. But you must promise not to try and kill me if I let you up."

"Like I'm falling for that one again!" Quixotic exclaimed spitefully.

"Well, I could kill you here on the spot and get someone else to do it. But there's the matter of time, and you're the only one of my agents I know wouldn't rat me out to Celtic for his own gain. Now, promise."

Quixotic sighed. "Fine. I promise."

He felt the pressure on his back relieved. He stood.

"What do you want?"

Nachbar chuckled. "Right to the point, are we? You always were direct."

"What was that you said about time, Nachbar?"

"Fine," he scoffed. "Since you're in such a hurry. Obviously, you know that Yukon is cracking down on the resistance in Villainia."

"Yes," Quixotic scowled. "I saw it happen firsthand. My friends were flayed alive by the Governor of Tauradonna."

"But do you know why, pupil mine?"

Quixotic's silence prompted Nachbar to go on.

"Celtic is preparing for an assault on Inferno, to cut off the head of the resistance against him. But he's low on manpower, and he's siphoning from his lieutenant's forces to provide the men necessary. Yukon is trying to weed out as many dissidents as he can so that nobody will notice that his troops are disappearing."

"And what are you proposing?" Quixotic asked, impatient.

"I'm getting there. Yukon is without proper manpower, and Celtic still needs more time for his troops to gather and his lieutenant Maker to perfect her newest poison. The point is, Yukon's vulnerable. Without Yukon, Celtic loses Villainia. Then, ANGQ and Inferno can get them on their side. With the added manpower and without Celtic's expert on population control, your old friends can destroy him."

"And what do you get out of this?" Quixotic questioned him.

"A chance at redemption. And I get to live."

Quixotic scowled, but then nodded and pulled a small piece of parchment out of his side pouch. Nachbar retrieved a quill and a small container of ink and handed it to Quixotic. He sat down next to a tree stump and wrote for a little while. Once finished, he handed the quill and ink back to Peter.

"Alright. It's done. But where do I deliver this to?"

"Your friends are staying in the village just west of here. They're in the big villa on the hill." He turned away.

"It's good to see you again." He vanished into the foliage.

Quixotic took the moment to consider his actions, looking down on the letter as the ink dried on it.

If Nachbar was lying, his friends were screwed, and he was in an even worse place than before.

If Nachbar was telling the truth for once in his life, then the resistance stood to gain a valuable advantage and deal a serious blow to Celtic.

He decided that the rewards were worth the risk and struck out for the village.

After about a half-hour walk, he saw the village. It was quite cozy, but the villa on the hill overlooking it was absolutely magnificent. And no doubt crawling with guards.

He trekked up the hill, trying to find a way into the villa without arousing suspicion. He eventually found a large tree whose branch extended over the roof.

Bingo.

He crawled up the tree, across the exceptionally sturdy bough and jumped, landing on the rooftop with an audible clack. Fearing he alerted one of the guards, he quickly scanned his surroundings and ducked into a conveniently small window.

The hallway was devoid of guards, surprisingly. He crept down it and listened at each one of the doors.

"Oh, dear. You should have seen the look on that officer's face!" It sounded like Samurai. Strange. He had always come off as the stoic type.

"I wish I could have been there. Too bad I was out there covering your asses in the field!" More boisterous laugher. Nitesco's voice.

"I think we can all agree that seeing what was left of his security detail flee into the woods with their tails between their legs was the most gratifying part of that. Your move, Austin."

Inferno. They were playing, chess, perhaps? Inferno always came off more as a dice guy.

"Checkmate." He could hear Austin's smugness from the hall. "Damn!" Gwydion yelled. "Samurai's going to bankrupt me at this rate. I never bet on the right guy."

"Not my problem." Samurai chuckled.

Quixotic sighed, depressed. He slid the folded-up note under the door.

"Hang on. What's this?"

Footsteps. They grew closer. He ran down the hall and leapt out the window.

Nitesco opened the door. He looked both ways down the hallway. Nobody there. He picked up the note and closed the door behind him.

A somber smile crossed Quixotic's face. He jumped down from the rooftop and out of sight.