September 8, 4 BTC

Crown Castle, Duchy of the Crownlands, Kingdom of Night's Watch

When his uncle returned from his diplomatic errand, Celtic II was thankful, if nothing else. Neither Yokei nor any of his father's lieutenants had remained behind. The absence of Yokei and most of his other trainers had left his schedule open. Boredom had quickly overrun the freedom of leisure time, and he was glad to have somebody back.

He sat next to King Celtic in the banquet hall, hands folded politely in his lap, observing his father's compatriots. Maker and Yukon were engaged in a fierce debate on some long-dead philosopher, Jokey was quietly discussing politics with Greatness, and Vulpix was laughing and joking with Inferno as Inferno's bodyguard looked on suspiciously. Celtic looked over to his uncle, who gave him a small smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked his nephew. Celtic II took a bite of beef and nodded.

"I am. It's good to have you back, uncle." They both sipped their drinks. "I am curious why you were gone so long."

At this, Celtic's expression darkened. He took another swallow of his drink and leaned closer to his nephew.

"Nephew, the leaders of this Subreddit are fools. They have no vision. They have no order. I sought to… remedy that."

"How?" Celtic II asked, though he suspected he wouldn't get an answer.

"You see," Celtic began, "there is no ruler who can properly command when his people do not obey. The kings, presbyters, generals, presidents, whatever else there may be. They rule in fear of the people. They are supported, because the people pay their taxes. They are sheltered, because the people build their homes. They are protected, because the people choose to serve in their armies. Do you see the problem?"

Celtic II slowly nodded. "They rely on the people."

"Exactly!" Celtic exclaimed. "They rely on the people. They are subservient to the people. He provides them direction, but when he alienates enough, they rebel. They turn against him. They replace him. How inefficient, how stupid, to live in fear of the people you are supposed to rule!"

"And what do you suggest?" Celtic II asked, scooping some lentils onto his plate.

"Obedience. Loyalty. Fanaticism." Celtic steepled his fingers. "The people should not serve their king because they are afraid of punishment, but because they want to. Because they need to. The king is the shepherd of his realm; his word should be absolute. I envision a Subreddit where the people are fanatically loyal to one ruler, not out of fear, but out of love. Only then can there be order again."

"And who do you believe should lead this new Subreddit?" Celtic II asked.

Celtic shrugged. "I say it should be… someone with vision. Hmm?" He smiled cruelly. Celtic II made an uneasy smile back and returned to his food.

"I just remembered I have some lessons to complete for Master Hetterman. Do you mind if I leave?"

Celtic frowned and shrugged. "Very well. I'll tell Greatness to leave you some beef."

"No promises," Greatness said, and the rest of them laughed. Celtic II was already out the door.

He plodded through the castle hallways until he came out in the small courtyard that he and Yokei used for training. Sure enough, the old man was there, swinging at a wooden dummy with a dull practice sword.

"Yokei." Celtic II announced his presence, and Yokei stopped. He seemed slouched, haggard, and defeated.

"Junior," he said dully. "Aren't you supposed to be in the banquet hall?"

"My uncle let me leave early." He walked over to Yokei and they both took a seat on the ground.

"Did you talk to him?" Yokei asked. Celtic II frowned.

"Yes. He delivered a speech on his vision for a better Subreddit. On how we should all be loyal to our betters in the name of order."

"Order, hm?" Yokei chuckled darkly. A moment of silence passed between them.

"He declared war, didn't he?" Celtic II asked. Again, Yokei laughed.

"There was no declaration. He invaded. Without warning or provocation. He simply arrived and imparted his will." He paused, his eyes in a faraway place. "There were rivers of blood."

"Civilians?" Celtic II asked. Yokei nodded.

"There was so much death. All in the name of order." He spat out the words with disgust. "Do you know what I saw, Junior? I saw droves of soldiers and civilians alike choking on their own blood in clouds of Maker's chemicals. I saw them tear each other apart like animals under its influence. I watched as our soldiers burned down their homes. I looked on as our men slaughtered them in the streets. And you know who was as the front of it all?"

Celtic II didn't have to answer. They both knew. Celtic I, King of Night's Watch, who had spent every day for the last seven years preparing for this moment. And now he had done it. He had doomed them all.

"You understand why I must leave."

Celtic II jerked his head to face Yokei. His teacher stared at the ground, his face dreary with age that Celtic II didn't know he had. He wanted to say something, to convince him to stay, but he knew he couldn't.

"Where will you go?" He asked instead.

"I came from beyond the North Mountains. I am an Outlander. It was once my home, and my home it will be again." He smiled sadly at Celtic II. "I'll miss you."

"Oh, Yokei." Celtic II drew him into a hug. "I'll miss you too."

And as he sat there, hugging the man who had taught him more than the rest of his teachers combined, he resolved never to become the same as his uncle. If he did, he told himself, then he deserved whatever was coming to him now.

March 1, 9 ATC

City of Edmund, Plantagenet Province, Military Republic of Lancaster

Coronam stared out at the Heretical Inlet, watching a few small fishing vessels dart to and fro in the wide, wide waters of the rivers. Some twenty miles across, he could see the undefended shores of Crosshares, practically begging to be invaded. He smiled, eager to end this once and for all, and maybe even stop at Night's Watch along the way.

"My liege," Opifexa said. She appeared at his side. She was the only one capable of sneaking up on Coronam. Not that he minded that; she was the only person he really trusted.

"Opifexa," he responded quietly. They stared at the river that looked peaceful despite the war. Coronam frowned.

"Do you ever wonder what it'd be like?" he began. Opifexa looked at him quizzically. "If we just… left one day? Handed someone else a crown and found a nice plot of land to call our own? You, me, Cinder, all sitting around on a farm somewhere?"

"Well, I imagine it'd be pretty boring," she said, and they both laughed softly. The river water brushed against Coronam's boots. How long had it been since he had heard that sound, the sound of water on the riverbank?

"I'm guessing you were sent to fetch me for the war room," Coronam said. Opifexa smiled gently.

"They wanted you five minutes ago," she said. "But it's nice out here. They can wait."

"A tempting offer," Coronam said. "But they can't. Perhaps another time."

"Perhaps," Opifexa mused, and she led him back to the war room.

The room was surprisingly quiet by the time they returned. Zealander, Nitesco, Gwydion, and Austin were sitting around the round table, drumming their fingers impatiently.

"Coronam," Nitesco said. "You're late."

"My apologies," Coronam responded with fake contrition. Austin raised an eyebrow.

"Should I be worried about you two?" she asked, pointing at him and Opifexa.

"Should I be worried about you two?" Coronam returned in kind, pointing at her and Nitesco. Nitesco and Austin exchanged an awkward glance while Opifexa smirked.

"Enough chatter," Gwydion interjected. "We have a war to plan."

"Exactly right," Coronam said. "Exactly right. Now, I believe I was summoned to discuss the invasion?"

"Correct," Zealander said. "The problem won't be a matter of resources; we have all the men, horses, armaments and supplies we need. The problem is transportation. We don't have enough ships to transport everything to Inferno's territory. Some must be left behind."

"Hmm," Austin said, stroking her chin. "What is the maximum number of soldiers we can accomodate?"

"Well, we have thirty-nine ships at our disposal," Gwydion said. "I've done some calculations already. Assuming we fill up twenty-five with soldiers and ten with supplies, we still have four ships for cavalry, cannons or catapults. We won't be able to transport enough trebuchets to make the hassle worthwhile."

Nitesco scratched the side of his head. "Well," he said. "Do we have any logistics on Inferno's troops?"

"I visited Crosshares some time ago," Zealander said. "They are very conservative with resources over there. It's unlikely that they'll use very many cannons, given the high cost of construction. I say we capitalize on that."

"But what of cavalry?" Austin asked. "If they have cavalry, they have an advantage in mobility."

"The ratio of horses to men with our ships isn't enough to make it worth transporting cavalry," Coronam said. "I've specially trained some regiments in anti-cavalry tactics. We can send them over on the ships and free the remaining four from having to transport horses."

"Alright," Nitesco quietly spoke. "I say we dedicate two for cannons, two for catapults, to minimize the costs of use. Does this sound good?"

Everyone nodded.

"Fantastic. One more thing: we will have to leave some troops behind. How should we decide which legions should stay?"

"I've done more research on that," Gwydion said, producing some papers. "We'll take six legions of Gunnian troops, six Arkosian, six Renoran, and six from the smaller nations. We'll give the Mask's mercenaries the last spot as a reserve. The rest will stay behind."

"But what of the commanders here?" Opifexa spoke up. "Zealander, can one of your Oligarchs remain?"

"Unfortunately not," Zealander said. "They've returned to Arkos. Inferno launched another assault, and they've taken it upon themselves to defend my nation from it." He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Just have one of the junior officers take command."

"Junior officers?" Coronam interjected. He scoffed. "Shouldn't we get someone more competent?"

"Oh, don't get such a sour face, my friend. You'll end up looking like your uncle if you do." He, Opifexa and Coronam laughed grimly. Gwydion squinted and looked over at Austin and Nitesco. They seemed not to notice.

"Contramundi will arrive in two days with some reinforcements. He can take command then," Austin suggested. Coronam shrugged.

"He will do. Now, are we adjourned?" The rest of them nodded and stood, each going their separate ways.

As Gwydion ambled behind Nitesco and Austin, he stroked his chin. Zealander was Vulpix, that was for sure. But who was Coronam? How did Vulpix know him? What did Opifexa have to do with anything? Who was Coronam's uncle? Questions swirled in his head, and his hand began twitching violently in excitement.

"Gwydion?" Nitesco's voice cut through the noise in his head. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled uncertainly. "I'm just trying to figure something out."

"Well, you do that," Nitesco said, concerned. "Tell us if it's important. I'll be with Austin in the map room."

"Of course," Gwydion replied, his mind already somewhere else. He opened the door to his quarters, taking a seat on the rusty cot he slept on. First things first: who was Coronam really?

Gwydion laid on his back and stared at the ceiling for about ten minutes. It had to be someone important. If Vulpix knew him and his uncle, he must have been pretty close to them both. Perhaps one of Arkos' old leaders? It would explain how he ended up in Renora; the border was not far.

But that didn't work. Coronam didn't have the accent of a Juniperan; it was close, but a bit too loose. A Heroan, perhaps, but one near the inlet.

Suddenly, it clicked. Who else did he know that had the boisterous, gritty voice of Coronam? The stocky figure, the thick beard, the blunt determination. Even the accent should have tipped him off.

Gwydion stood up and grabbed his knapsack from under the cot, pulling out a feather, some ink and the papers in it. He began furiously scribbling his thought process onto an empty sheet, and as soon as he was done, he ran down to the map room with the fistful of papers in his hand.

When he arrived in the map room, Austin and Nitesco were drinking mead and laughing with Coronam and Vulpix. Gwydion stood uncomfortably in the doorway until Austin noticed him.

"Gwydion," she said, her face darkening as she noticed how distressed he seemed to be. She set down her glass. "Is there a problem?"

Coronam glanced at the papers Gwydion clenched in his hand. "What are those papers, my friend?"

"These papers," Gwydion said, laying them on the table in front of Austin and Nitesco, "record every secret conversation you, Opifexa, Cinder or our friend 'Zealander' here have had in the last few months. I knew something was going on, but I didn't know what."

"What are you saying, Gwydion?" Vulpix stood from his chair uneasily, hand hovering above his sword's hilt.

"What I'm saying is that I know that none of Coronam's entourage is who they seem." He pointed at Vulpix. "You, 'Zealander.' Do you still think about the crimes you committed with Celtic during his uprising? About the hand you had in King Inferno's death?"

Austin stood up, attempting to meet a suddenly ashamed Zealander's gaze.

"Is it true?" she wondered. "Are you Vulpix?"

Before he had a chance to respond, Coronam stepped in front of him and crossed his arms threateningly. "And who do you think you are?" he asked.

"You're one to talk, 'my friend,'" Gwydion spat. "You being the nephew of-"

"Celtic." Nitesco stared at Gwydion's chickenscratch on the newest piece of paper. He stared at the paper for a few more seconds, then swept his gaze over Vulpix and onto Coronam. "You are the kin of the mad king?"

Coronam glanced around the room. Austin, Nitesco and Gwydion were glaring at him, taking aggressive stances. He looked to Vulpix, who had taken a sudden interest in the carpet beneath him.

"They know, Junior," he mumbled guiltily. "Let's stop pretending."

Coronam looked at him, then at Austin, Nitesco, and Gwydion. He sighed.

"Fine," Coronam said, defeated. "You got me."

"It's true?" Austin asked, still in disbelief. Coronam nodded sadly.

"Yes. As much as I wish it wasn't, it is."

"Why did you hide this from us?" Gwydion asked, clutching his left hand in his right. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Coronam scoffed, his shame giving way to apprehension. "Do you realize what that would do to me?" he asked. "Can you imagine the fallout? My people, learning their king is the nephew of the man who conquered their land and killed their queen? Not to mention the lords of the Subreddit who were imprisoned, vassalized, shamed or defeated by Celtic." He shook his head. "I couldn't. I couldn't risk not having their trust."

"But now you have lost ours," Austin said apprehensively. "Your uncle destroyed families, countries, regions! And you!" she exclaimed, pointing at Vulpix. "You went along with it!"

"You think I don't regret that?" Vulpix lashed back. "You think I don't have nightmares about what I did? I was blinded by my ardor. It consumed me. I will not make the same mistake again."

"You should have died with the rest of Celtic's Council!" Austin exclaimed.

"Easy, Austin," Nitesco advised. Both Austin and Vulpix ignored him.

"I would gladly have died," Vulpix said through gritted teeth. "But it was Austin Rufus who spared me. He gave me a second chance." Vulpix squinted at her, scrutinizing her face and her reaction upon hearing Austin's name. "I've noticed the resemblance, young lady. We aren't the only ones with secrets."

"Enough!" Nitesco exclaimed. "That's enough. Vulpix, Coronam, if that even is your real name, stay here. I'll fetch an escort to take you to your rooms."

"And what will be done with us?" Coronam asked coldly. Nitesco shook his head.

"We shall see. In the meantime, don't try escaping. I'm willing to bet your soldiers won't be too happy if I were to reveal your true identities to them." As Gwydion beckoned for some soldiers to escort Vulpix and Coronam away.

As they left, Austin approached Nitesco, shaking her head. "What will we do with them?" she asked.

Nitesco frowned. "I don't know," he admitted. "Gwydion, what do you think?"

Gwydion massaged his sore hand and paced back and forth. "I just can't believe it. I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "They were right here, right under our noses this whole time, and I only just now realized that the man we've been relying on most is Celtic's heir. I feel like a fool!"

"Looking back, it explains a lot," Nitesco said.

"Yeah, like Zealander stuttering back at the Diet," Austin agreed. "And the meaning of Coronam's name."

Gwydion stopped and looked up. "His name?"

"Yeah," she said. "'Coronam' is Latin. It means 'Crown.'"

Gwydion's face turned bright red. "Of course. Of fucking course it does!" He slammed his right hand on the table. "Here I was after Greatness thinking, 'oh, no way anyone would try the Latin name thing again.' And then this man has the audacity to call himself 'crown' and nobody bats an eye!"

"You really didn't know?" Austin asked.

Gwydion threw his hands in the air. "I thought it was just another royal name! They all have weird names. Zentics, Contramundi, 'Jillian,' they all sound like nonsense. What's next, you're going to tell me that 'Cinder' is Latin for Jokey, or 'Opifexa' is Latin for—"

"Settle down, man!" Nitesco pleaded. "Let's just focus on this for now. We should decide what to do with this information."

Austin crossed her arms. "I didn't fight in the war like you two, but I saw firsthand what Celtic was responsible for. And I know what he did to my father and to both of you. I have some ideas of what I'd like to do with his kin."

"I have some thoughts as well," Nitesco said. "And I suspect that we may not be of the same mind on this."

Gwydion pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm out of thoughts. I've used up all of my thoughts for today. If you two can figure out a solution, I'm on board."

Nitesco and Austin locked eyes. After some debate, they came to an agreement and decided Coronam's fate.

Coronam did not sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, desperately trying to fall asleep, but could not. Old memories and visions swam through his head, never allowing him to drift off, keeping him awake until the morning hours. At last, someone knocked on his door.

The door opened. "Coronam," Nitesco said, keeping his voice neutral. "It's time."

"So it seems," he glumly muttered. Nitesco beckoned for Coronam to follow, and they wordlessly ambled through the command center until they arrived in a small, circular garden. A few of Nitesco's most trusted guards stood around the circle, with their backs to the statues and foliage that provided them privacy.

Nitesco took a seat next to an arbor entwined with roses. Coronam looked around questioningly, noting nobody important save for Nitesco. His face twitched in anticipation.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Why have you brought me here? Are you going to kill me?"

"That has yet to be decided," Nitesco answered, a dark intonation in his voice. "In the meantime, I fear that us commanders have fallen out of practice. I decided that we should have a sparring match to sharpen our skills before we move on Crosshares. While we're at it, we can have a conversation. Ask you a few questions, perhaps. How does that sound?"

Coronam nodded and looked around for his opponent. "Very well. It's not like I have another option." He paused. "Who will I be fighting? Gwydion? You?"

"As much as Gwydion might like to, he's elsewhere, interviewing Vulpix. Besides, he's not much of a fighter anyways."

"And what about you?"

Nitesco shook his head. "No. I've made my peace with your bloodline. I'll have no conflict between us."

"Then who will I fight?" Coronam impatiently asked. Nitesco pointed behind Coronam, and Coronam turned to see that Austin, dressed in sparring clothes, had appeared behind him.

"Austin?" Coronam asked. "Why her?"

"I thought it was fitting," Austin said. "It was my suggestion. After all, it was Celtic who fought my father to the death."

A look of surprise appeared on Coronam's face, much to Austin's amusement. "So you are Austin Rufus' daughter," he said.

"Come on," Nitesco chided, "you didn't think the name was a coincidence, did you? Not to mention the resemblance."

"I had my suspicions," Coronam said. "But I didn't want to say anything. I happen to look a lot like a dead man too." His comment elicited the smallest glare from Austin, who readied her fighting stance.

"Enough posturing," Austin said. "Let's get down to it."

"Very well." Coronam smiled and readied a fighting stance of his own. "Ask away."

Austin began the match with a roundhouse kick aimed at Coronam's head. Expecting a more frontal assault, Coronam was caught off-guard and just barely manage to duck under it. Austin did not seize the opportunity for a follow-up.

"Bold opener," Coronam commented, standing upright.

"I don't like to hold back," Austin said.

"Is that right?" Coronam asked. In lieu of an answer, Austin pressed forward with her own question.

"They said you were the nephew of King Celtic," she said, eyeing Coronam's shins. "How close were you to him?"

Coronam grit his teeth. Should he downplay Celtic's importance? Should he tell the truth? On the one hand, he could minimize his guilt. On the other hand, trust was the bond of alliance, was it not?

He decided to tell the truth.

"He was my adoptive father," Coronam explained, blocking a few quick jabs from Austin. "My father, his younger brother, was killed a few months before I was born in the Third Shipping War. My mother died a few days after I was born from health complications. Celtic took me in, but he made no attempt to hide that he was not my real father."

"Is Coronam your real name?" she asked. Austin went for a strike to Coronam's eye, which was deflected easily.

"No. My uncle named me Celtic II." He paused. "Self-absorbed bastard. I hated that. Being called 'Junior' by all his vassals and allies was annoying to no end."

"His allies. Let's talk about those." Austin punctuated her statement with a wild flurry of punches, which Coronam blocked with some effort. "Tell me, what was your relation to them?"

"They were my teachers," he said. "Celtic assigned them as my mentors. He personally taught me much, but his lieutenants taught me the more niche things. Yukon taught me history and culture, Greatness taught me strategy, Vulpix taught me diplomacy and negotiation. They were my friends." He shook his head. While he was distracted, Austin threw another jab that narrowly missed, bringing him back to the present moment.

"Keep talking," Austin said, pushing with repeated strikes to the body. "The mass murderers were your good friends?"

Coronam grit his teeth and steadily blocked her punches. "It wasn't until the war began that I saw them for who they truly were. Zealots and killers, chasing after a fantasy of unity. But they were steadfast in their beliefs. Celtic gave them purpose, he gave them a goal. And so they were undyingly loyal to him to the end."

"Clearly not 'undying,'" Austin remarked, "else Vulpix wouldn't be here." She attempted a kick and Coronam easily dodged.

"Vulpix was the only one of them who had a lick of sense!" Coronam said, suddenly temperamental. "He was the only one with a conscience. The only one I could talk to with respect after Yokei left."

"Yokei?" Austin asked, backing off momentarily to catch her breath. "And who was that?"

"My combat trainer," Coronam said, a sudden pang of regret entering into his voice. "Like a second father to me. He taught me more than combat or finances or history like the rest of them did. He taught me right and wrong."

Austin shook her arms to loosen up. "I get the feeling his ideas of 'right and wrong' were skewed, given the company he kept."

"Don't be so quick to assume," Coronam growled, raising his fists and closing in. "Yokei was there when Celtic first invaded at Bumblebee. He saw what Celtic did there, to civilians and soldiers alike. It ruined him. He left for the Northlands and never returned."

Coronam threw a heavy-handed punch at Austin, the first attack he had thrown since the fight began. She sidestepped it and backpedaled away from his follow-up uppercut.

"Did you love Celtic?" she asked. The simplicity of the question threw him off long enough for her to land a solid right hook. Coronam shook it off and blocked her next strike.

"When I was a child, yes. I loved him like I would love my own father. But then he started a war," he said, punctuating "war" with a punch that missed its mark. "He became colder. More dour. More angry." Coronam threw another punch on "angry," missing once again. "And after what I heard of him from Yokei and other soldiers… I wanted nothing to do with him."

Coronam pressed the offensive, throwing heavy punches at Austin. She danced around them, noting his increasing irritation.

"How did you escape?" Austin asked. "How did you get to Renora?"

"Celtic married me off to Zentics' niece. Zentics was sterile, and his brother was long dead. The rulership of Renora is strictly for men, and so Celtic betrothed us so that I could cement his dominance over Renora."

"And what of your Renoran lieutenants?" Austin asked. "Do they know of your identity?"

"They aren't a danger to anyone!" Coronam yelled, and he managed to land a heavy slug into Austin's gut. She stumbled away breathlessly, but quickly resumed a fighting stance.

"That wasn't," she breathed, "the question," she wheezed, staring her opponent down. Coronam growled.

"Fine. Opifexa and Cinder know. Opifexa was the bastard daughter of Zentics' brother, and an adept administrator. We were both aliens in his court, and we became fast friends."

"And Cinder?"

Coronam growled again. "Cinder was one of my uncle's soldiers. I met up with him after Celtic was finally defeated. He recognized me and asked for a position in my personal guard. I soon found he was much better at intrigue, and more well-connected, than I first gave him credit for, so I moved him from the soldiery to my spy network."

"Did he help you kill Zentics?" Austin asked with irritation in her voice. Coronam was taken aback.

"Kill Zentics?" he asked, offended. "I would never. He may not have liked me, but I had more respect for him than that. No, he died naturally. I didn't want the throne, but Celtic's machinations gave me no other choice."

Austin released a flurry of quick attacks, of which about half landed, sending Coronam back. He slapped her last jab away and violently pushed her, but Austin recovered quickly.

"Did you ever meet Celtic again?" she asked, frustrated. Coronam knew that she was running out of questions. The match would soon end.

"Only once," he said. "I made frequent visits to my home, but I only met him once after I left. I got updates from the officers."

"What was he like?" Austin asked. "Was he the same as you left him?" Her voice shaped the words into a taunt. Coronam angrily threw a left hook, forcing her off-balance, but he restrained himself from following through.

"He wasn't the man I knew when I left. The war had taken its toll on him. He was as zealously dedicated as ever, but he was falling apart. Yukon's death had hit him hard, or so I heard. When Greatness died, it nearly broke him." Coronam shook his head.

"He was in shambles. He was paranoid, hearing voices, talking to the dead. As ANGQ's invasion grew nearer, though, he reclaimed some of his dignity, became more quiet, more reserved, more sane. But I could hear him talking to himself through the walls of my quarters. It was the first time I had ever pitied him."

"Pity?" Austin asked, indignant. "How could you feel pity for that man? He killed millions!" She went on the attack, recklessly throwing punch after punch. "He killed my father!"

"Austin!" Nitesco interrupted, but Austin ignored him.

"Celtic was still family!" Coronam exclaimed, holding himself back. "A madman he may have been, but he was still my uncle."

"Celtic was a monster and a murderer," Austin said. Her face was red with anger, and she wheezed from the effort of her continuous attacks and the lingering pain of Coronam's gut punch. "We cannot allow a second Celtic to grow."

"I. Am. Not. Celtic!" Coronam screamed. With a burst of adrenaline, he reared back and kicked a charging Austin square in the chest, sending her to the ground. For an instant, he had a dark impulse. He pictured himself on top of Austin, hands on her neck, wringing the life out of her. He fought his emotions and stood still, staring down at his floored opponent.

"I am not Celtic," he repeated, conviction deepening his voice. "I will never become him."

Austin struggled to sit upright, but was too exhausted to do so. She lay flat on her back with her eyes squeezed shut, defeated. "How," she said weakly, "how do we know?"

Coronam frowned. "If I was, you'd already be dead." He turned away from Austin and toward Nitesco who, flanked by his guards, approached the scene.

"That's a very bold statement to make," Nitesco chided.

"It was the truth," Coronam spat back. "I am not Celtic. Don't equate me with that man." He spat out some blood and turned to Austin. "Are you alright?"

"I'm dandy," she said, coughing violently. With significant effort, she managed to get herself up to a sitting position. "And I can see that you're not like your uncle. The way you spoke and the way you moved just now, I felt no reason to doubt your honesty. We'll trust you, for the time being. But I'll be keeping my eyes on you."

Coronam nodded, somewhat sheepish. "I would expect nothing else. And… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to harm you."

"Nothing I haven't felt before," Austin said. Coronam offered her a hand to help her up, but she waved dismissively. "I can get up myself," she insisted.

"Suit yourself," Coronam said, turning to Nitesco. "So, I passed your little test, then?" Coronam laughed weakly, and Nitesco shrugged.

"I suppose. We're done here. You can consider yourself a free man, and you may leave." Nitesco pointed a warning finger. "But don't forget this day, 'Coronam.' No more secrets. Not from us."

"No more secrets," Coronam echoed, and walked away with renewed energy. As he left, he felt a certain sense of security, of assurance.

Nitesco knelt down next to Austin, awkwardly found a way to position his prosthetic leg, and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're not badly hurt, are you?" he asked.

Austin shook her head. "Not anywhere important." She kept her gaze locked to the ground and her head hung low.

Nitesco frowned. "There's something wrong. What is it?"

"It's stupid."

"It's probably not as stupid as you think," Nitesco said. "Do you still doubt Coronam?"

"No." She laughed bitterly. "No, I just—it's childish. It's nonsense."

"Tell me anyway."

"I wanted to win. I wanted to beat him, like my father beat Celtic," she said. "Like I said, it's childish." She felt her eyes watering and fought back tears; she couldn't let herself cry.

Nitesco sat quietly for a second. "You don't have to be like your father," he said.

"Don't I, though?" she demanded, looking up suddenly. "I'm following his footsteps in a way I never thought I would. I'm doing what he did, being a commander and a fighter with so much at stake. If I can't win the battles he fought, if I can't win like he did, do I even deserve to be here? Or am I just putting up a front, acting like something I'm not?"

"You're missing something important," Nitesco said. He watched his tone. He had to be careful, supportive. "Your father didn't beat Celtic alone. He had our help, and we succeeded together. Every step of the way, Austin relied on the people around him. He was a great man, but he made mistakes. When he needed help, he had his friends to rely on. If you really want to do what your father did, that's something you need to understand."

Nitesco stood up and brushed the dirt off of his legs. "No one wins alone," he said. He reached out to her. "Don't be afraid to admit when you need a hand."

Austin smiled, took his hand, and stood with his help. "Thanks," she said. "I think I really needed to hear that. Sorry for making you deal with my personal problems."

"Don't mention it," Nitesco said. "We all have our weak moments; we learn from them and grow stronger. I know that better than anyone."

Meanwhile, Coronam returned to camp and looked around. He needed to check on someone. It was no surprise that she found him first.

"There you are!" Opifexa said, walking briskly up to him and then walking alongside him.

"There you are," he echoed with a relieved smile. "Have you been well?"

Opifexa lowered her voice. "If you can call suddenly being detained with no explanation and no answers to any of my questions 'well,' then yes, I've been quite well, my liege."

"I'm sorry," Coronam said. "Something happened and I wasn't able to contact you."

"I figured as much," she said. "Let me guess; you dropped the ball?"

"I'd prefer to say that we dropped the ball. Actually, I'd prefer to say that Vulpix dropped the ball."

Opifexa laughed and shook her head. "I will never understand how one man can be so skilled and so inept at the same time."

"He has his faults," Coronam agreed, "but he's a good friend and he comes through when it counts."

"Oh, did you think I was referring to Vulpix?"

The pair laughed together at the good-natured teasing.

"So, they know your little secret, then?" Opifexa asked.

"Yes," Coronam confirmed, "but they've decided to work with me regardless."

"How did you persuade them to do that?"

"I didn't, really. I just told them everything and, well, they decided to trust me."

"Really?" she asked.

Coronam nodded slowly, as if he was still having trouble believing it himself.

Opifexa smiled. Then she laughed warmly. "My liege, I think we've found good allies. And I believe they have found a good ally in you."

Coronam agreed. He had doubted himself before, but now he could put those doubts to rest.

He was not Celtic. He never would be. And that knowledge was a sweet, sweet joy.