Jokey walked up the stairs to Celtic's palace, grim-faced and dour. He entered through the large entrance arch, ignoring the honor guard Celtic had stationed on either side. He wandered through the labyrinthine halls of the castle, two left turns, two right, another left, until he found himself in Celtic's throne room.

"My liege, I bring news from Nuts and Dolts."

Celtic drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his throne. "Well? What news have you?"

He looked up at Celtic and glanced at the honor guard that stood regally and impassively around the room.

"If I may be so bold, my liege, my news is meant for you and the Council alone."

Celtic nodded and beckoned for his men to leave. The guardsmen nodded and left the room, leaving Jokey and Celtic alone.

"This news isn't good, is it?" Celtic sighed and crossed his legs.

Jokey sadly shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. The 942nd Cavaliers have been wiped out. All members have been killed or captured, and sadly, Greatness belongs to the former category."

Celtic leaned forward and folded his fingers into a steeple. He closed his eyes and, for a few seconds, seemed genuinely grieved over his friend's death. All of a sudden, he grabbed his axe and began hacking what was left of the two thrones on either side of him to shreds.

He screamed and cursed violently while Jokey stood and watched the spectacle uncomfortably. At last, Celtic finished his outburst and turned back to Jokey.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Jokey swallowed fearfully.

"Well, it seems that Nachbar has been in contact with Quixotic Quail for some time, helping him undermine our efforts in exchange for clemency when the war is over."

Celtic pursed his lips and dropped his axe on the ground. He seethed in unnerving silence, wringing his hands together before exhaling forcefully.

"Is Nachbar here now?"

"I don't believe so," Jokey said. "But I do believe that he returns from Goodwood today."

Celtic sighed. "That will have to do. Do you have any good news for me?"

Jokey took a breath. "Yes, my liege. I managed to kill Quixotic Quail before I was forced to flee." He beckoned to the unsightly gash he had on the side of his neck.

"Well, at least one of them is dead. You are dismissed." He waved Jokey away. The assassin bowed his head and breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the throne room.

Celtic rubbed his temples as he sat down in the center throne, ignoring the two destroyed ones that sat next to it in a pile of broken wood. Yukon took a seat in one of them.

"Well it's about goddamn time you killed one of them. It's been how many years since we first encountered them? Now look what they've done! Our vision, sullied by their foul hands. So much for an age without corruption."

"More like an age of tyranny," Inferno remarked as he sat down in the unoccupied throne. "You cannot suppress the people's desire for freedom. That was your first mistake; that was what doomed this whole endeavor from the beginning."

"Shut up, both of you." Celtic groaned as he cast dirty glances at both of the men. "You know, Inferno, if you hadn't been such a little bitch at Pollination, none of this would have happened."

"If you hadn't stabbed me in the back, I would have never had occasion to betray you."

"He's right, you know." Quixotic leaned on one of the pillars that supported the concave roof above them. "You are a backstabbing bastard, Celtic. I hope you realize that."

"So what?" Greatness called out across the room. "None of us are innocent; we're all sinners and murderers. Besides, we'll all be dead within the month anyways."

"You're already dead, fool," Celtic noted the obvious. Idiots. They didn't even know they were dead.

"Yes, Celtic," Yukon hissed. "Dead because of you. Dead because of your fruitless power grab. Dead because of your plans. Dead because you led us all down this path, and the only thing at the end is death!"

"For once, I agree with that homicidal maniac," Quixotic remarked. "You're a pathetic, greedy, treacherous despot, and everybody's lives are worse because of you!"

"Shut up!" Celtic yelled and stood up from his throne.

Inferno, too, stood up. "You've led this whole Subreddit down a dark path. You should have never invited me into this pathetic rebellion of yours. You should have never attacked ANGQ at Pollination. You never should have trusted that snake Nachbar. Had you done none of those things, we would all be alive today!"

"Nachbar has betrayed us," Greatness stated flatly. "Our forces have been decimated. Our lands are rebelling. Our plan has failed. Relent. Accept it. Just give in. There's no point in making this longer than it needs to be."

"Enough!" Celtic screamed. He opened his eyes and looked around; the throne room was empty.

He sat down and cradled his head in his hands.

Maker sat in her workshop, standing over a suit of armor that was supposed to replace Jokey's old and increasingly worn one. She bent over and examined the structure inside; how was she going to do this? The armor needed to make Jokey stronger at the tightening of a handle, but she just couldn't figure out how. Would it constrict? No, the structure would be too heavy. Would it cut? No, that would seriously wound, if not kill him. Chemicals, perhaps? Where would they be stored?

In frustration, she grabbed a sheaf of papers and angrily threw them in the air. As the papers floated gently to the floor, she heard somebody knocking on the door.

Maker sighed. She had not been expecting company. "Come in," she grumbled.

Jokey opened the door and walked in.

"Good afternoon, Maker." He noticed the pile of slightly crumpled papers on the ground and the half-finished suit of armor she was designing for him. Maker leaned over the table and sighed again.

"I take it the armor isn't coming along so well?" Jokey asked hesitantly. Maker shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no. I can't seem to find a way to make you stronger by using the suit. It either kills you too quickly or is too difficult to make, even for me." She rested her head on her fist. "I simply don't understand."

Jokey put a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, my friend. You did the best you could. And look what you've done for us so far! Poisons, grenades, even my mask. Don't doubt yourself. I have confidence you'll get it eventually."

Maker smiled and nodded, and they sat there for some time in silence. After a couple minutes, Vulpix appeared in the doorway and knocked on the edge of it.

"Vulpix. What is it?" Jokey asked.

"It's Celtic," his colleague responded. "He's summoned all of us to his throne room. He seems incensed about something."

"Well, whatever for?" Maker furrowed her brow and contemplated any reason she might have given Celtic to be angry.

The general shrugged. "He didn't say, only that it's very important."

Jokey and Maker sighed. After exchanging glances, they stood and followed Vulpix to the throne room.

Nachbar rode through the city of Night's Watch, a small smile on his face. Greatness was dead, and according to one of his spies, ANGQ had the documents necessary to bring the war to its endgame. He passed through the northern gate and turned down the road to Celtic's fortress.

After fifteen minutes, he came upon the guard post that allowed entrance to the fortress approach. The guard captain, recognizing Nachbar, beckoned for his soldiers to let the spymaster through. They stepped aside and Nachbar continued on his way.

At last, he came upon the central gate to Celtic's fortress and dismounted. He walked up the steps to the front doors, imagining how furious Celtic must be right now. Greatness was dead. Heroa was slipping from his grasp. At the very least, Celtic would be noticeably frustrated, and as always, oblivious to Nachbar's role in his downfall.

Nachbar turned down the winding halls of the castle, built specifically to hamper intruders and assassins. At last, he arrived in the throne room.

Maker leaned on one of the pillars, and Jokey stood next to his liege. Both of them glared at him. He swallowed and looked behind him. Vulpix walked over to the doors and closed them, looking calmly, though intently, at Nachbar as he stood in front of them, arms crossed.

Son of a bitch.

Masking his increasing panic, Nachbar turned to his liege. Despite the thrones next to him indicating he had an outburst of anger recently, he seemed rather calm. Disturbingly so. He looked up at Nachbar, a cold fury burning in his eyes.

"Peter Solomon Nachbar. You have committed treason. You have handed vital information over to our enemies, cooperated with one of their leaders, attempted to turn Inferno against me, and caused the deaths of both Yukon and Greatness. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The spymaster feigned surprise. "My liege, where are these accusations coming from? Why would I betray you? What cause do I have to help our enemies? What could I possibly gain from that?"

"Save it, you scumbag!" Jokey hissed at him. "I followed your operative Quixotic from Eclipse to Nuts and Dolts. I know he's working for you. Or was, for that matter, since I killed him." A sick grin formed on his face.

"Silence!" Celtic bellowed at his assassin. Jokey stepped back and instantly quieted down.

"I know for a fact that you've betrayed us, so don't even try to deny it. What I want to know is why. Why would you turn your back on us? Why would you betray us?"

Nachbar looked around. They weren't faking it. They knew what he had done. There was no point in continuing the deception any longer.

"Because from the moment you stared this rebellion, it was doomed. I saw that. You were too staunch a legalist, too zealous, too reliant on your authority to survive for long. At first I tried to turn Inferno against you: a ruler that, even if he didn't want to admit it, was driven by ambition, by personal gain, not some childish fantasy of a utopia. He would need me. But then I realized that wouldn't work either. He, too, stuck to his principles. He joined ANGQ's pathetic crusade instead of taking power for himself. So, I went to plan B. I help ANGQ in exchange for immunity. Even if they are misguided, idealistic fools, they were going to win. I knew that with them, I had a better chance of coming out on top. I only wanted to survive, to escape the foolish deal I made with you."

Celtic stood there for a bit, absorbing his words. At long last, he laughed, a sort of chiding snort.

"How ironic, then. You've spent your whole life serving yourself. You've spent all this time working against me, just trying to escape, just trying to survive. But you failed. You wasted all of this effort trying to save yourself, and in the end, it's what got you killed."

Celtic struck Nachbar in the stomach with the end of his axe. He collapsed to the ground, coughing heavily.

"Any last words, Peter?"

His mind, almost of its own accord, returned to a conversation he had with Inferno so long ago.

"Very admirable, Inferno. But also foolish."

He remembered how Inferno looked at him, as if he could tell the future, as if he could see everything he had done and everything that he would do.

"I would not be so quick to judge, Peter. You too, will die protecting what you love."

"Well wouldn't you know it." He laughed sadly. "He was right after all."

Celtic raised his axe high, preparing to strike him down.

"Let justice be served."

With one swift, clean motion, he brought the axe down onto Nachbar's neck. His head came clean off, rolling across the stone floor before coming to a stop at Vulpix's feet. All four of them looked at their former spymaster's body as it dropped to the ground and twitched before growing still. Celtic breathed deeply, as if the air had cleared.

"That is all. You may return to your activities."

The three of them nodded and departed. Jokey and Vulpix walked out the main door while Maker departed down a side hall to return to her laboratory.

"An awfully grisly fate," Vulpix mused.

"He deserved it." Jokey voiced his opinion.

"I never said that he didn't deserve it," Vulpix clarified. "Just that it was awfully grisly."

Jokey let a small frown grow across his face.

"My dear friend Vulpix, you're not going soft on us now, are you?" He looked at Vulpix, who met his steely gaze with a glare of his own.

"You think I'm going soft? I'm not. I haven't lost sight of the goal. My allegiance to Celtic has not changed. My determination has not wavered. I promise, my friend, you need not worry about me."

Jokey shrugged. "Just making sure. You did spend a significant amount of time around Inferno, after all…"

Vulpix stopped and glared at Jokey angrily.

"Do not presume to know my loyalty, Jokey. I was the one who killed him, after all." He paused and sighed, somewhat melancholy now. "You can ask Celtic about it if it will assuage your fears."

"I have no doubt of it, Chaos." Jokey noticed how his colleague tensed at the sound of his first name.

"And what, if I may ask, is your opinion on team ANGQ?"

Vulpix scoffed and shook his head disdainfully.

"I hate them. Austin, Nitesco, Gwydion, Quixotic. They brought down the Jaunerrha Citadel. They have helped destroy everything that matters to me. Two of our friends are dead at their hands. My nation lies fractured and occupied. They are the reason for our plight. They must die." He sighed, his frustrated rantings coming to an end.

"Are you happy now? Must this examination of my loyalty continue?"

Jokey shook his head, a small smile gracing his expression.

"No. I can tell you are sincere. Thank you, Vulpix. I have heard all I needed to hear."

Jokey nodded and rounded a corner, probably heading back to his quarters. Vulpix sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Prick," he muttered aloud. With nothing to do and no pressing concerns to deal with, he decided to head down to the Council chambers.

Vulpix pushed open the door and walked in. As he pulled up his chair and took a seat, he took the opportunity to look around the room, something he hadn't done in quite some time.

The banners of Night's Watch hung from the pillars, in desperate need of a good dusting. One of the seats, which Vulpix assumed had belonged to Inferno, had numerous slashes in the velvet cushions. Celtic's seat, which sat a little higher than the rest, still had a cabinet directly behind it, presumably the only reason Celtic still visited the chamber. Next to him, Yukon's wolf skull mask sat on the seat, staring outward with two blank eyes. Across from it, Greatness' spare greatsword was rested on the back of the chair, pointing straight up. Vulpix sighed, remembering better times.

The sound of footsteps awoke him from his reverie. He turned to the open door to see who would join him. Maker walked in, but upon seeing Vulpix there, stopped mid-step.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered. "Am I interrupting?"

The general shook his head. "No. I just came here to think. I can leave, if you'd prefer."

Maker placed her hand on the edge of the table. "No, you can stay. After all, misery loves company."

"I suppose that's true," Vulpix remarked. "Can I get you a drink? Celtic keeps the cabinet well-stocked, and I'm sure that he won't mind."

Maker took her seat next to the chair on which Yukon's skull sat. "Oh, please. A drink is exactly what I need right now. A brandy, if you will."

Vulpix walked over to the cabinet and opened it, inspecting its contents.

"Hmm," Vulpix said. "Do you prefer Camaieu or Abeille?"

Maker thought for a moment. "Abeille, if you will. It reminds me of home."

"Trick question." Vulpix laughed wearily as he came back with two glasses and a bottle of Camaieu. "Celtic already drank all of the Abeille, it seems."

"Damn," Maker muttered. "Very well; Camaieu will have to do."

Vulpix sat down as he began pouring out the expensive brandy. Once finished, he handed a glass to Maker, who sipped hers gently. Vulpix followed suit and began draining his drink, sitting with Maker in silence.

"I miss them," Maker said sadly.

Vulpix nodded, melancholy, and set down his near-empty glass.

"I know. I miss them too." He drained the last drops of liquor in his glass and began refilling it.

He laughed slightly. "You remember the time you and I cheated Greatness out of fifty ducats in tarot? He was fuming mad."

Maker nodded, a smile alighting her expression. "Remember the time we all had a drinking competition? And how surprised we all were when Jokey went down first? He still refuses to talk about that. Yukon and Celtic tormented him relentlessly about it."

They both laughed. "I can't remember who won that," Vulpix noted. "I must have gone down after Jokey."

"Probably," Maker mockingly stated. She finished her glass and passed it to Vulpix for refilling.

"I remember how Yukon and Jokey used to have debates in the Emberaldian library. They'd go on for hours, rambling about obscure philosophers." Vulpix smiled dolefully and handed a full glass of brandy back to Maker.

"Remember how you and Celtic would come down every now and then and watch me experiment? And how you two would jump like a pair of little children every time a chemical went *pop*? Now that was funny." Maker began laughing again.

"Oh, oh," Vulpix interjected. "What about the time Greatness came back to the castle raving drunk and lost to me in an arm-wrestling match? He always pretended it didn't happen. He was probably too drunk to remember."

"Greatness and Celtic used to have sparring matches, remember that? Remember when Yukon convinced us to start betting on it? And it turned out that he was paying Greatness to throw the matches to cheat us? Man, did they laugh for weeks about that." Maker at last finished reminiscing and resumed her work on the liquor glass.

"I miss those times." Vulpix sighed and took a sip.

"We all do," Maker said. "I can't help but wonder how this will all end. What will become of us? Will we be able to recover? Regain lost ground? Or will we share the fates of our two friends?"

The two of them turned to look at Greatness' blade. Both of their shoulders sank.

"I don't know," Vulpix said. "But we can't give up the fight. Otherwise, everything we've sacrificed will be for nothing."

"I suppose." The pair resumed sitting in abject silence, sipping on the last dregs of the Camaieu brandy.

While they sat there, the sound of rushed footsteps came down the hall. A female scout appeared in the doorway, wearing the colors of Arkos.

"Scout!" Vulpix walked over to her and sat her down in a vacant Council seat. "What is wrong?"

"ANGQ," the scout said, out of breath. "They march through the mountain pass."

"The mountain pass?" Maker asked, frightened. "How do they know about that?"

"Nachbar, most likely." The general turned back to his subordinate. "How long until they get here?"

"Three days, at the most," she stammered. "What do we do?"

The two Council members looked at each other urgently.

"Go back to your garrison, soldier. Inform your fellows. We'll tell Celtic." The scout nodded and departed.

The general walked off, intent on informing Celtic, but afraid of his reaction. The artificer with him followed, but stopped. She turned around and, taking a last glance at Yukon's mask and Greatness' broadsword, shut the doors of the Council chambers behind her.