The days passed merrily enough, at least until the party ended when Richard headed out, bound for Passion’s territory to the east. That was not an easy farewell, even if we were relatively certain we’d see each other again soon.

  Due to the nature of the diamond-shaped Axius, traveling between territories was much faster if you headed toward the center—pretty much analogous to how planes used the curvature of the Earth to take the shortest possible line. It was how Richard had gotten here so quickly from Passion’s territory.

  Of course, if you happened to be at the edge of the territory—near what I referred to as the ‘crust’ of the piece-slice, you had one hell of an epic journey. It seemed it could take upwards of a year to travel from one end to the other via horseback.

  After Richard, it was Rogar and Philip’s turn, and that farewell was just as hard as Richard’s. Both Aerion and I were down for the day after. It’d been so long since it’d been just us—I’d kinda taken the others for granted.

  Nor did we have any monsters to distract us from that loneliness. Aside from a few Cataclysm monsters that had made it out and were wandering the countryside, our journey was completely uneventful. The monotony was something we’d all sorely missed in recent weeks, and while I appreciated the respite, it only highlighted just how integrated our party had become.

  Still, it gave Aerion and me a lot of opportunity to chat.

  Aerion was relentless in peppering me with questions about Earth and technology. From planes to trains to the internet, her curiosity had no limit, and I was pretty sure she’d have had me talk all day, every day if the caravan hadn’t been here.

  Which was why I’d sprung at the chance to be alone with Aerion. Just Aerion. It hadn’t taken much to convince Grug to let us go on our own. While I was sure he had some misconstrued notion of what exactly we’d be doing on our outing, I let the misunderstanding stand since it worked in my favor. For the first time on this trip, I would be the one asking the questions.

  Aerion and I had spent most of the day ranging ahead on our horse to scout out safe campsites for the slower-moving caravan for the night. It felt like the perfect opportunity to spring the question. That question.

  “So,” I said, shifting on my saddle. “I’m uh, no good at stuff like this so I’ll just come out and ask. How do you feel about telling me about your family?”

  Aerion didn’t reply, but her body visibly stiffened to the point where even the horse got confused.

  “I… Yes,” she choked out, eventually. “I apologize for keeping you in the dark so long. Truthfully, I’ve had no good reason to keep it from you.”

  “No good reason other than it being a distasteful topic that opens old wounds and brings back sour memories?”

  Aerion turned, eyes wide.

  “Yeah, believe me. Got some baggage of my own. So how about this? You tell me something about your past and I’ll tell you mine. I know you’ve been as curious to know about me as I’ve been about you.”

  Aerion smiled, taking one hand off the reins to squeeze my hand. “Thanks. Let’s dismount here. Easier to talk when I can see you. Besides, this spot looks suitable, don’t you think?”

  I looked around. Grassy plains stretched out all around us, with copses of tall, spindly trees here and there and grass that came up to our shins. We avoided the forested areas, for the most part. Not only was the ground riddled with roots, it was easy for predators—both the two and four-legged variety—to ambush us. The field we were in was relatively flat and far from all of that. It did look like a good campsite. And with the tall grass gently rustling in the breeze, it also just happened to be perfect for an intimate chat.

  “How much do you know of elven culture?” Aerion asked as we walked around aimlessly.

  “Aside from the fact that most of them live in Cosmo’s land, that they’re technologically advanced compared to the rest of the world thanks to the lack of cataclysms there, and that they’re super conservative on marital topics? Absolutely nothing.”

  “Right,” Aerion laughed. “Stupid question. Though the conservatism should give you some measure of a hint.”

  Aerion stopped, gazing into the distance. “Most territories tend to lack the sort of power of the sort of kings and queens you and Richard mentioned. The ones who used to hail on your world.”

  I nodded. “I can see that. With the gods real and present, the best you could hope for would be high priesthood. Even then, you’re kinda stuck executing the will of your god to the T, lest they descend and be displeased that you’ve strayed from the path.”

  “Precisely that,” Aerion said, idly ripping a blade of grass and letting it fly away in the wind. “You can see the problem, yes?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “Cosmo doesn’t give a shit. I’m guessing he doesn’t descend to show his godly might all that often.”

  “Not often at all,” Aerion said with a tight smile. “Sure, he’ll leave loaves of bread for a family near starvation or drape blankets over the homeless suffering in the cold… But the sort of display you saw Dominion do? Not even the records mention a single occurrence of such a thing.”

  “And that means free reign for whoever’s in charge of his territory, more or less,” I said, scratching my cheek.

  “More or less,” Aerion replied. She’d crouched down and was playing with the grass, twisting it around her finger. “The Prime Warden is closer to a monarch than any mortal in the rest of the world. Unlike everywhere else, the fact that he’s a priest of Order is secondary..”

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  “You might even say that the stronger their rule, the closer to the concept of Order they are,” I replied. “Even if the god himself doesn’t seem to uphold that trait overly much.”

  Aerion chuckled darkly. “Yes, well, nearly all Wardens claim as much when justifying their sometimes draconian actions.”

  “Alright, so Order’s territory is basically a monarchy,” I said. “Guessing the nobles there are more loyal to the Prime Warden, and less the priesthood?”

  “It is even worse than that, for the position of Prime Warden is not an elected one, nor is it decreed by the God of Order.”

  “What a shocking surprise,” I said dryly. “Picking leaders every century or two definitely sounds like the sort of thing Cosmo would go all out to get out of.”

  “Yes, he abandons us to our fate, save for the single decree he passed down, many millennia ago.”

  “I’m amazed he even did that,” I said. “What does it say?”

  “That the position is to be relinquished to a successor not of the current Warden’s family to four degrees. Nor can any family that has had a Warden in the past millennium occupy the position.”

  That was interesting. I thought it over for a moment before coming to the obvious conclusion.

  “Something like that would just devolve into an old boys club. Nobles licking the boots of the current Warden.”

  “And so you see why the Prime Warden bears near-universal power.”

  “It’s not just his own power. He gets to own everyone who wants to suck up to him.”

  “The amount of politicking and backstabbing is… quite frankly staggering,” Aerion muttered. “And… I was in the thick of it.”

  Aerion turned to me, looking me in the eyes for the first time since she started, and delivered what was perhaps the biggest bombshell she’d ever uttered. “My family was chosen to be the next in line for the position. My father would have been Prime Warden.”

  I just stood there, mind blank. In the end, I said the only thing that could be said in such a situation.

  “Holy shit!”

  “So, let me get this straight,” I said, pacing around after I’d had a few moments to digest this information. “You’re basically a princess, and it’d have been your family running Order’s territory right now if that rival family hadn’t fucked you over.”

  “Was a princess, though there was no such official title,” Aerion corrected. “My father knew how to play the game, and from everything I remember my mother telling me about him, I’d have hated him for it. He’d make a promise with his left hand while he broke it with his right. He was the type of person to say anything and everything to get what he wanted. Completely unlike my grandfather. Strong, honorable, gallant. One of the greatest military generals of his time, according to my mother and all who knew him.”

  “So what happened?”

  Aerion snorted. “Such traits, it seems, are nothing but a hindrance in that land. The rival family—the one who occupies the position of Prime Warden today—staged a plot during the last Cataclysm. You see, while Order’s territory does not receive Cataclysms, should one break out in a neighboring territory, there is nothing stopping those monsters from crossing the border.

  “Last cycle, the cataclysm occurred in Cunning’s territory, on the eastern border of Order. Seeing an opportunity in the outbreak and a weakness in my grandfather—tasked with the defense of the border in that region—they corralled the monsters. Got them to attack my grandfather’s troops in overwhelming numbers. It was hopeless from the start.”

  “So, what happened?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  Aerion cringed. “He fought, as any in his position would. He fought and he fought, and yet, the situation was hopeless. He must have realized this, because my grandfather, he… He loved his family very much. Recognizing that the defense of the border was impossible, he fled.”

  “He ordered a retreat?” I asked, frowning.

  “I’m sure of it. And yet…,” Aerion admitted, averting her eyes. “Our enemies were the ones to inform the Warden.They claimed he fled on his own. Back to our manor situated nearby, where he collected my mother and father, fleeing deeper into Order’s territory.”

  “You’re saying he abandoned his post,” I said.

  “He would never do such a thing!” Aerion snapped, before backing away. “Sorry,” she said. “Just, it’s clear to me he was wronged. He must have been. It’s the only explanation for what he did.”

  I pursed my lips. I was no military man, but even I knew what desertion meant. “So they court-martialed him?”

  “They chopped off his head. In full view of thousands. For desertion, and for the deaths of tens of thousands by allowing the horde to rampage.”

  “Surely his soldiers must have vouched for him, though?” I said. “If the situation was as hopeless as you make it sound, and if he did order a retreat, they should’ve vouched for him.”

  Aerion let out a harsh laugh. “If only they hadn’t died while fleeing. If only the ones who remained hadn’t been bribed handsomely by my family’s enemies to say what they were told to say, instead of the truth.”

  I grimaced. Politics. Always a nasty business. I was now triply happy I listened to Aerion and didn’t venture to Order’s territory. I might’ve had all the weapons in the world, but I’d have been dead meat in that pit of vipers.

  “My family was stripped of its nobility, my father’s claim to the throne renounced. They seized our land, our money… even our clothes, exiling us to the streets, where my parents lived in abject poverty. Barred from employment and forced to endure the jeers and abuse of a people that had been fed a feast of lies. My father passed on sixty years later, just before I was born.

  “Mother raised me on her own as long as she could, but even as young as I was then, I could tell something broke inside her when father left this world. Then, one day, I woke up to find her lying on the raining street, eyes shut. Never to open again. I think it was the food. We relied on handouts more often than not. It’s possible it was poisoned. Or spoiled. She tried to give it to me, but I forced her. I forced her, Greg. Because she needed it more. She kept giving me all her food… she was so emaciated.”

  When Aerion turned towards me, her cheeks were stained with a stream of tears that continued to fall. “No one even noticed, Greg. No one cared that she was dead. After, I… I don’t remember much of the days and weeks that followed. I just remember being wet. From the rain. Brief flashes of digging through trash dumps. Shivering. I eventually recovered enough to be functional. I think something broke inside me, too, back then. Found work wherever I could. Which, more often than not, meant the less scrupulous side of society. So you see, Greg? This is my deep, dark secret,” she said mockingly. “A pathetic tale of greed and misery.”

  I said nothing. There were no words of comfort I could offer. No anesthetic that could possibly dull her pain.

  So instead, I wrapped her up in the deepest hug I’d ever given, holding her as her small shoulders trembled in my arms. She buried her face into my chest and sobbed, and I prayed that my feelings got through.

  I was no god. I couldn't undo the tragedies of the past. But I’d be damned if anything like that ever happened to her again.