The bodies lay in Richter's office like fallen monuments. Six of them, arranged in two neat rows across the imported Velosian carpet that had, until approximately three minutes ago, been the Duke's pride and joy. Now it was hidden beneath corpses wrapped in heavy drapes: burgundy fabric Richter had pulled from a storage closet after Sael had deposited the bodies onto his floor via dimensional storage.

  The drapes didn't quite cover everything. A hand here, visible where the fabric had fallen short. The outline of a face there, the cloth pulled taut over features that would never move again. One of the bodies—the largest—had required two drapes layered together, and even then, a boot stuck out at an awkward angle.

  Richter stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the covered forms. His expression was carefully neutral, but Sael could read the tension in his shoulders, the slight tightening around his eyes.

  "Aldric..." Richter said quietly.

  Silence settled over the office for a moment as Richter's gaze remained fixed on the bodies, then... "Would you tell me how were his final moments?"

  So Sael did.

  He kept it brief. The journey to Ashams. The dragon's court. Aldric in the dungeons, too far gone for anything but a quick end. The others who had come to free him, all of them similarly Corrupted, all of them dealt with in the same manner.

  He didn't mention the specifics of how he'd killed them. Richter didn't need those details, and Sael had no desire to provide them. Some things were better left unspoken, filed away in the quiet corners of memory where they could gather dust undisturbed. When he finished, Richter was quiet for a long moment.

  "The Corruption," the Duke said eventually. "You're certain?"

  "Yes."

  "All of them?"

  "All of them."

  Richter exhaled slowly. His hand came up to rub at his face, fingers pressing into his temples. "Aldric was... he was family. Difficult family, certainly. Ambitious to a fault. But family nonetheless."

  "I know."

  "His father will need to be told. The extended family. There will be..." Richter trailed off, then shook his head. "There will be complications."

  "I can help with that," Sael offered. "If needed."

  "No." Richter's voice was firm. "No, this is... this falls to me. He was an Eryndor. Our family's responsibility." He paused. "Our failure, perhaps."

  Sael said nothing to that. There was nothing to say. Aldric had made his choices long before anyone could have intervened, and walked his path with full knowledge of where it led. But families didn't work on logic. They worked on guilt, obligation and the particular weight of blood ties that didn't care about fault or reason.

  "What about the dragon?" Richter asked, clearly trying to move past the subject.

  "Ah." Sael shifted his weight slightly. "That's... a longer story."

  "I have time."

  So Sael explained. The confrontation in the throne room. Ozyarathes's pride. The refusal to negotiate. The demand for Eld as payment, which was, of course, completely unacceptable. The brief but decisive fight that followed.

  "I knocked him unconscious," Sael said. "Sent him into orbit, actually. He came back rather quickly. Still angry. So we fought properly."

  "And?"

  "I won."

  Richter's expression suggested this was perhaps the least surprising information he'd received all morning. "I... I assumed as much, given that you're standing here."

  That was a good point, Sael thought. Though he couldn't quite tell if Richter was being serious or sarcastic. Under normal circumstances, he might have laughed as he hated when people didn't laugh at his jokes, so he tried to extend the same courtesy to others. But with six bodies laid out between them, laughter felt wrong. Disrespectful, even.

  So he didn't.

  "Hmm," Sael said instead. It was a neutral hmm.

  Richter glanced at him briefly, then seemed to let it go. "What happened to the dragon?"

  "I didn't kill him."

  That got a reaction. Richter's eyebrows rose. "You didn't?"

  "No."

  "What did you do with him, then? I can't imagine Ozyarathes simply accepted defeat and let you walk away."

  "Well," Sael said, "technically speaking, I did more than let him live. I... modified him. Somewhat significantly."

  Richter stared at him. "... Pardon me?"

  "I said I modified him."

  "What does that mean?"

  Sael pointed to the corner of the office.

  The white chicken had been standing there quietly, watching them. When Richter's gaze followed Sael's gesture, it stared back with an intensity that seemed deeply wrong for a bird.

  Sael watched them both, wondering how long it would take for the duke to realize. He started counting in his head. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two—

  "THIS IS THE DRAGON KING?!"

  Four seconds. That was quite sharp, actually.

  The shout was loud enough that Sael actually flinched. Richter never shouted. In the handful of days Sael had known him—barely perhaps five days, though it felt much longer than that for some reason—he had never once heard the Duke raise his voice above a firm speaking tone.

  Richter seemed to realize this himself. He stopped mid-breath, his face flushing slightly. His hands, which had come up in some sort of reflexive gesture of shock, slowly lowered and he cleared his throat.

  "Apologies," Richter said, his voice returning to its normal measured cadence. "That was... unbecoming of me."

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  "It's quite alright," Sael assured him.

  Richter straightened his jacket, smoothed down his hair and took a deliberate breath. When he spoke again, his composure had mostly returned, though his eyes kept drifting back to the chicken with visible disbelief.

  "You turned the Dragon King," Richter said carefully, "into a..."

  "Do not say it," the chicken interrupted.

  Richter's mouth snapped shut. He stared at the bird.

  The chicken stared back, smoke beginning to curl from its beak.

  Sael looked between them. "He's a bit sensitive about it still," he explained. "Give it some time."

  Richter seemed to collect himself, then turned his attention fully to the chicken in the corner. He straightened his posture, clasped his hands behind his back, and inclined his head in a formal gesture of acknowledgment.

  "Dragon King Ozyarathes," he said, "I must say, I've heard a great deal about you. Your reputation precedes you, even here in Orlys. It is... unexpected to make your acquaintance like this."

  The chicken let out a long, weary sigh that seemed far too deep to come from such a small body. Smoke curled from his beak as he turned away from both of them, fixing his gaze on the window instead.

  Richter opened his mouth as if to say something else, then seemed to think better of it.

  He glanced at Sael, who gave a small shrug and turned his attention back to the bodies laid out on the floor. "These five," Sael said, gesturing to the forms not covered by Aldric's drapes. "As I told you, they had come to free Aldric from the dungeons."

  "Yes," Richter said, his expression growing serious again as he followed Sael's gaze. "I understand the implications of that."

  "Do you?"

  "It means the Corruption problem is larger than we expected." Richter's jaw tightened. "Far larger. If five people—five people capable enough to attempt a prison break from a dragon's dungeon—were already Corrupted... this isn't an isolated incident. This needs to be dealt with. Soon."

  "I'll be investigating," Sael said. "Starting here in Orlys. I'll try to find leads on where to go next, who else might be involved or affected."

  He paused, looking down at Aldric's covered form.

  "Aldric was an emergency for me," Sael continued. "I didn't want him spreading the Corruption further. But it seems that was already too late." He exhaled slowly. "Which is logical, I suppose. He'd had plenty of time."

  A moment of silence passed between them.

  "The people we arrested last time here in Orlys," Sael said, looking up at Richter. "The ones from the initial Corruption cases. Where are they now?"

  "House arrest," Richter replied. "Under guard, but comfortable enough. They're waiting for you to... treat them. When you have the time."

  "Good." Sael nodded. "I'll begin there first. It's as good a starting point as any, and they deserve to be helped before I chase down new leads."

  The sound of wingbeats cut through the air as Sael and Richter turned toward the window. A pegasus descended from the sky, its white coat gleaming in the morning light. A rider sat astride it, wearing the colors of a ducal messenger.

  Richter moved to the window, looking out as the pegasus circled lower, clearly preparing to land in the courtyard below.

  "This must be our messenger from Ashams," Richter said, watching the descent. "Coming to report what happened there."

  He turned back to Sael, and there was something almost sympathetic in his expression.

  "I expect the news of your return to be a world-shaking event, Archmage."

  "Hmm," Sael said.

  This hmm was a sigh, for no particular reason.

  Richter seemed to understand the hmm as well, because his expression softened slightly. "I'm afraid you probably won't like the news over here, either."

  Sael looked at him. "I presume this is about the young king?"

  "Yes."

  "Please do tell."

  Richter moved away from the window, his hands clasping behind his back. "King Cedric actually came here to meet you. And before his surprise intimidation attempt a few minutes ago, his advisors wanted to organize a great event to celebrate your return to the world."

  "I absolutely do not want that," Sael said immediately.

  "I know," Richter replied. "That's exactly what I told them."

  "Good."

  "However," Richter continued, and Sael felt his brief moment of relief evaporate, "his advisors suggested an alternative. They convinced him to arrange the event around his own birthday instead—which is in three months—and invite all the sovereigns of the world here, to Orlys. There will be a grand tournament between the major academies, all nominally in the king's name and honor."

  He paused, meeting Sael's eyes.

  "But really, Archmage, this will be about you."

  Sael was quiet for a moment, processing that. Then: "I don't think I'll be here in three months. The Corruption investigation will likely take me elsewhere by then."

  "I would ask you to reconsider," Richter said, and there was a weight to his words that made Sael pay closer attention. "Your reappearance, especially after the events in Ashams, and the news of..." He hesitated, glancing toward the corner where Oz stood. "Well, after what happened between you and the Dragon King—"

  Oz's feathers ruffled slightly, but he remained silent, still staring out the window.

  "—the powers that be, across all twelve continents, will want to know your stance," Richter continued. "They'll want to understand where you stand, what your intentions are. Some will seek you out directly. Others will send agents, spies, diplomats. A few might even take more... aggressive approaches."

  He moved to his desk, resting his hand on its surface.

  "This feels like the beginning of a new world order, Archmage. Whether you intended it or not, you've disrupted the balance. The invitations were sent this very dawn—riders on pegasi, messengers carrying sealed letters to every corner of the world. To the Witch Queens of Nightveil as well as the High King of the Elves in Imladrant?. To the Sultan of the Burning Sands, the Shogun of the Isles of Mist, the Matriarch of the Deep Cities beneath the Krakendeep, and even to the Jade Emperor of the Eastern Dominion."

  Richter's gaze was steady, unflinching.

  "All of them might be here. All of them will want to see you, to measure you, to understand what your return means for the delicate equilibrium they've spent decades maintaining."

  Sael frowned slightly. "I'm not interested in politics."

  "I know," Richter said. "But politics is interested in you." He leaned forward slightly. "Thanks to you and your companions sacrifices, we live in what many call a golden age, Archmage, but it's a precarious one. Multiple blocs of power exist across the continents, each vying for hegemony, each keeping the others in check through a balance of strength and diplomacy. The Dragon Courts in the south. The Human Kingdoms. The Merchant Republics. The Theocracies of the Sun Faith."

  He gestured broadly, as if encompassing the entire world.

  "Each of these powers is led by—or contains—individuals capable of leveling kingdoms single-handedly. Ancient mages. Dragon monarchs. Elven Archmagi who've lived for millennia. Witches who've bargained with entities beyond our understanding. They exist in a state of balance because no one faction can definitively overcome the others without triggering a catastrophic war that would consume continents."

  Richter's expression grew more serious.

  "Now, a new player has entered the board. Not just any player, but one who announced himself by defeating a Dragon King—one of the most powerful beings in the known world—and transforming him into..." He glanced at Oz again. "...his current state. That's not just a disruption, Archmage. That's a seismic shift. Every sovereign, every power broker, every faction leader is going to want to know: Are you a neutral force? An ally? A threat? Will you align with anyone? Will you challenge the existing order?"

  He straightened.

  "If you disappear into your investigation and refuse to engage, they'll draw their own conclusions. Some will assume you're gathering power in secret. Others will think you're vulnerable, isolating yourself. A few might decide you're a threat that needs to be eliminated before you become too entrenched."

  Richter's voice softened slightly.

  "But if you attend this gathering—if you show yourself, answer their questions, make your intentions clear—you can shape the narrative. You can prevent misunderstandings that might lead to conflict. You can establish boundaries—"

  "Boundaries are important," Sael said, mostly to himself, not wanting to interrupt but unable to stop the thought from escaping.

  Richter paused, then nodded. "Indeed." He continued, "And perhaps most importantly..." He paused again, this time for emphasis. "You can ensure that while you're investigating the Corruption, the rest of the world isn't descending into chaos trying to figure out what to do about you, and make allies powerful enough to help us prevent the cataclysm that the Corruption's reemergence threatens."

  Sael was silent for a moment longer, weighing Richter's words. He wasn't unaware of the repercussions his return would have—he'd known from the moment he'd decided to emerge from his self-imposed exile that the world would take notice.

  But if attending this gathering could help prevent the full-blown return of another Corrupted One, if it could secure allies powerful enough to stand against that threat... then he estimated that such alliances were well worth pursuing, even if they came wrapped in the trappings of social obligations and political maneuvering.

  From the corner, Oz turned to look at him, silent.

  "You might have a point," Sael admitted finally.

  Richter's expression eased slightly, relief flickering across his features.

  "Three months, you say?"

  "Yes," Richter confirmed. "Three months."

  Sael exhaled slowly, a sound of quiet resignation.

  "So be it."

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