Ch15 Relative Freedom

(set: $data to StrayHeirs["datastore"])(set: $canundo to false)(set: $array_position to 1)(set: $randarray to (a:(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20))) ##Chapter 15 #Relative freedom |Recap>[(display: "recap")] From the top of Hydra Pass, you gaze downwards upon sheep-soft clouds that drift across an over-grown track snaking down the mountainside. Though it's summer, the air here is crisp. No trees, only grass and stunted bushes bent sideways by the gale. Right now the slopes are misted with flowers - gold, white and purple. Five days have passed since you left Caer Goroduin. Four nights since Andreas left. (if: $data's marryR is 1)[Rain and Tertia, bursting with supportive fury, declared him a coward and a traitor. But the truth is, you understand his choice. Since Caer Goroduin, he'd been scrupulously correct toward you, never approaching you nor even meeting your eyes without a mask of deliberate constraint. Even so, every time he looked at you, you felt the bitter intensity of an irrepressible hunger lurking beneath the surface. And Rain... no matter how you tried to reassure him, to show him that you're his alone - he could not help but sense the animal response you suppress. He knows you too well. You need space to forget, to disentangle your heart from your body's madness. No, as much as you hate it, Andreas made the right decision. ](else:)[You try to imagine he was a coward, a traitor. Rain and Tertia, bursting with supportive fury, keep telling you he was. It might be comforting if you could believe it. But the thought falls flat. Anger fails you; all you have is wretched certainty. The truth is, you understand him as well as he understood you. ]You should have expected it. (if: $data's toldAndreas is 1)[Even more so, given the revelation of his true identity. Whatever his feelings for you, he had never concealed his loathing for courtly life. He had neither the wish nor competency to rule; how could he possibly unite the people of Saragai? (if: $data's toldAll is 1)[But even unwilling, his presence tore at the sons of Chrystovan, who could deny neither his birthright, nor their horror at the thought of handing over their nation to a highway robber.] ]As for you... (if: $data's gotRing is 1)[At least without him, you can think clearly. You can steel yourself to do what is necessary. You can afford neither tears nor dreams. ][[You still have a war to stop.->warToStop]]

"That city, Seline... my heart almost bursts with joy at the sight of it. It's more than beautiful to me. I thought I'd never see home again." (set: $data's likesM to it + 2) He's different now, you reflect. Since you crossed into Saragai, Morael seems less guarded. He laughs more willingly, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel bathed in a simple, candid warmth. "(display: "city")

"Do you miss your home, Seline?" (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) It's a good question. Something inside glows when you think of Stelgarte, and it's not just a longing for safety. You think of bright halls buzzing with cheerful, familiar voices, the raucous cobbled streets and markets. Of afternoon wanderings with Tertia, whispered secrets and stolen sweets when you eluded your tutor's scolding. Even your midnight escapades with Rain, which once seemed so wild and daring, now glimmer with nostalgia. Your heart even aches for your comfortable bedroom with its bookshelves and bright carpet, and the silken coverlet upon the bed gleaming in the morning sun. But just as longing seizes you, you imagine the web of courtly life closing in upon you, invisible yet suffocating. Do you really want to go back to that? To the constant friction of your nature against the expectations of your family and allies? Will things be different when you return? [["I do." ->doMissHome]] [["It's complicated. I do miss my home, but I don't miss the life I had there." ->missHomeNotLife]]

Just wait till you see it up close - its many fountains and bright gardens, the fashionable gentlemen and ladies promenading upon the great bridges. The great stadium, where games are held every seven days. The academy, where students flock to hear renowned philosophers debate the secrets of the universe. The theatres and magicians, artists and musicians, and the markets where crafts and trinkets and charms are sold from morn 'til midnight... you cannot imagine, Seline. I lived there all my life, and it was never the same two days running." (set: $city to 1) It's hard not to smile at his enthusiasm. [["There's no feeling like coming home, is there?" ->homeSpecial]] [["It sounds a lot like Stelgarte, actually." ->homeSpecial]] (if: $ship is 0)[[["What's that huge ship?" ->hugeShip]]]

It's a long ride down to the plains. Morael completes the journey in canine form. You hang back, whilst Rain and Tertia ride ahead, side by side. The smattering of their conversation that reaches you on the wind is light-hearted. You feel they'd welcome your company, yet somehow you cannot bring yourself to join them. Your mind turns once again to what happened at Caer Goroduin. Between the entangling strands of the Sorcerer's will, and your own desperate choices, you're not sure whether to count the outcome as a triumph or defeat, and there are parts of what happened that you flinch from contemplating even internally. You yearn to share everything with your friends, but you hardly know how to tell the story in the privacy of your mind, let alone explain it to anyone else. What you do know is that that the mountain air is sweet, Blueberry's back is warm between your thighs, your friends are alive and you are free. At least for now. As the ground flattens out, you nudge Blueberry into a canter, letting the wind and the rhythm of his stride drown out your darkening thoughts. The fine weather does not last. Clouds gather below, and then surround you, wet and thick, whipped by the flying wind. Though it's only afternoon, daylight fades, and halfway down the mountain, it begins to hail. By the time you approach the outskirts of the city, you're drenched and muddy. The roads are empty of travellers; you pass a few roadside stalls, but they are boarded up tight. You dismount, shivering, beneath the scant shelter of a spreading oak, and offer the russet dog a licked finger. He snuffles it and yelps; Rain holds up a blanket, and in a few minutes, Morael emerges from behind it fully dressed. This is as close as you've been able to get to a dignified transformation for the prince of Saragai. "Seline," Morael says, "The closer we come to the city, the more my feelings war within me. I cannot wait to be home, yet... something is wrong here." His voice is soft; you can barely hear him over the pounding rain. Rain, staring stonily out at the mirky torrent flowing down the road, nods agreement. "My brother's right. This road should be bustling with traffic." [["People are just sheltering from the rain. Let's get inside!" ->hurry]] [["It does seem suspicious. Let's keep out of sight." ->sneak]]

As you (if: $hurry is 0)[warily ]approach the city, Morael's fears are confirmed. Cresting a small rise, you find yourself gazing down upon a field of tents clustered out of bowshot from the city walls. A sentry stands atop a makeshift tower, but between the curtaining rain and the light behind him, you cannot make out any details. (if: $hurry is 0)[You keep to the shadows.] Stalls line the road, presumably selling trinkets and services to travellers. Behind them, you make out the outlines of a village. But neither merchants nor customers are anywhere to be seen. Cheap jewellery drips in the rain. Bright-dyed shawls and scarves flap on racks, sopping wet. Roasted meat, half-eaten, sits in rainwater on plates, and a chair is overturned. Some stalls are charred, but no fire burns now. An obstruction blocks a gutter, flooding the road. It's a dead man. There's an arrow sticking out of his back, but the rain has washed away the blood. (if: $hurry is 0)[You edge around the corpse. Ahead, the road slopes downhill between the tents, then steeply up, narrowing to a causeway as it approaches the the city gates. Even in the downpour, it's utterly exposed.](else:)[You give the corpse a wide berth. Ahead, the road slopes downhill between the tents, then steeply up, narrowing to a causeway as it approaches the the city gates.] The door of a nearby sandal-shop hangs open; you herd everyone inside. The smell of fresh-tanned leather is overpowering. You strip off your soaked garments and dig out fresh ones, but everything is damp. Ashes smoulder in the fireplace. Tertia, shivering, stacks fresh logs upon it. [["We need to sneak past this army. Is there another way into Isholme?" ->anotherWay]] [["We need to find out what's going on! Let's wait here until Morael transforms again. Then he and I will bluff our way into the encampment." ->waitForMorael]] [["Tertia, stop!" ->makeFire]]

"Sorry. I didn't think..." She huddles in a corner. Rain wraps a coat around her. (set: $fireout to 1) [["We need to sneak past this army. Is there another way into Isholme?" ->anotherWay]] [["We need to find out what's going on! Let's wait here until Morael transforms again. Then he and I will bluff our way into the encampment." ->waitForMorael]]

"Well, sort of..." Morael purses his lips. "What does *sort of* mean?" asks Rain peevishly. "It means that I am not certain. And we would need to pass through this encampment anyway." [["Okay. Let's wait here until Morael transforms again. Then he and I will bluff our way into the encampment." ->waitForMorael]] [["Why?" ->whyUncertain]]

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You hitch Blueberry to an abandoned cart of sloshing wine-barrels, then lead him downhill toward the tents with the russet dog at your side. For a few minutes, the clouds part, and the moon peeps through, illuminating raindrops falling like a flight of silver darts. "Halt!" The command is flung from a makeshift watchtower by the roadside, in Saragaian. You peer upwards. Through the pelting rain, you discern a sentry atop the tower. "State your business here! This area is closed to traffic!" Though the sentry speaks in Saragaian, his accent is that of Thronheim. [["When will it be open?" ->whenOpen]] [["What? I came all this way to sell fine Khargaian beverages to weary soldiers, and now you're *closed*?" ->cameAllThisWay]]

"When the King decides! Now, scram! Before the Watch gets here!" [["I came a long way to offer the army this fine selection of Khargaian beverages. You could at least try some!" ->cameAllThisWay]] (if: ((history:) contains "whichKing"))[[["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim. Let me in!" ->princessOutside]]](else:)[[["Which King?" ->whichKing]]]

"Madam, it's past curfew. You'd better be on your way before the Watch arrives." A second head appears at the top of the tower. "Wait... *what* kind of beverages?" [["Wine!" ->wine]] [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Wines, both sweet and dry, from my husband's cellars in Khargai. I have a black cherry wine, aged three years, flavorsome and bold. Also a sweet plum wine, and a spicy zinfandel." ->wines]]

The sentry blows a whistle. Moments later, an adjacent tent opens. (set: $princess to 1) Three guards emerge, crossbows ready. "On your knees!" barks the nearest. [[Kneel. ->kneel]] (if: ((history:) contains "whichKing"))[[["Do you not recognize your own Princess? It is you who shall kneel, fool!" ->princess]]]

The two sentries bicker quietly for a moment. Then the first one shouts: "What are you waiting for? I warned you, get out of here!" (display: "leaving")

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) (if: $success is true)["Did you say *plum* wine?" [["Yes." ->yesPlum]] [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Indeed I did. It's an excellent vintage, full-bodied yet subtly sweet with a hint of tartness and floral notes, fermented from succulent green plums and aged for two years in oak barrels." ->plumWine]]](else:)[(display: "wine")]

"Ah... I'd better not. We'll get wine aplenty when we sack the city, and no need to pay for it. Get thee gone!" (display: "leaving")

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[An argument ensues above. Then the second sentry shouts down: "Wait there!" He clambers down. "I shouldn't do this, but the missus does love a good drop o' plum wine. Now, give us a taste, will ya?" Obligingly, you turn to rummage in the cart. The sentry comes up behind you. "Hurry, wench! If I'm caught out here..." [["Kind sir, why conduct our business out here at all? My family is depending on me to sell these wines in the encampment. Let me in, sir, and you can try them at your leisure. I'd be happy to offer a, err, discount." ->askSentry]] [["Here, good sir. Inhale the bouquet. One taste of this, and the lady will forgive everything. I guarantee it." ->smellWine]]](else:)[(display: "yesPlum")]

The sentry vanishes. You hesitate. An arrow strikes the ground next to you. Reluctantly, you lead Blueberry back down the hill. As you reach the end of the causeway, footsteps tramp ahead of you. A group of guards round the corner. Seeing you, they halt abruptly, brandishing weapons. There is nowhere to run. "On your knees!" barks the nearest. [[Kneel. ->kneel]] (if: ((history:) contains "whichKing"))[[["Do you not recognize your own Princess? It is you who shall kneel, fool!" ->princess]]](else:)[[["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim. It is you who shall kneel, fool!" ->princess]]]

There is nowhere to run, and you're too close to hope that the archers miss. You kneel in the muddy road. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Morael slip away into the shadows. The guard struts over, staring down at you. You can make out no insignia upon his coat. With a curt gesture, he summons a second guard to tie your hands behind your back. They search you for weapons with lingering thoroughness. "Move!" he barks. [[Obey. ->move]] [["Where are you taking me?" ->where]] [["Can you not see, I am the Crown Princess of Thronheim! Release me, you fool!" ->princess]]

Conscious of the crossbows at your back, you allow yourself to be marched down toward the tents of Thronheim's army. (display: "marchInside")

"*We* ask the questions!" [[Obey. ->move]] [["Can you not see, I am the Crown Princess of Thronheim! Release me, you fool!" ->princess]]

"King Torveld of Thronheim!" [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim. Let me through!" ->princessOutside]] [["I came all this way to sell fine Khargaian beverages to weary soldiers, and now you're *closed*?" ->cameAllThisWay]] (if: ((history:) contains "whenOpen"))[](else:)[[["When will it be open? I came a long way!" ->whenOpen]]]

He darts a glance at you, and a flush rises to his cheeks. "I... I'm sorry, miss. I'm not allowed to talk to prisoners." [["But I don't even know why I was arrested!" ->whyArrested]] [["Can't you see, this is all a mistake? I'm the Crown Princess. If you help me, you'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams." ->princessReward]]

(if: $walloped is 1)[The guard looks skeptical. "You assaulted a soldier, ma'am. Now, I don't know what you're used to, but now the General's in charge, and he'll make this place *civil*. Put things right. Law an' order. Understand?"](else:)[The soldier keeps his voice low. "It's the General's orders. Routine detention for anyone out past curfew. Should only take a couple of hours to sort out. Just don't piss anyone off."] [["Which General?" ->interrupted]] [["Can't you see, this is all a mistake? I'm the Crown Princess. If you help me, you'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams." ->princessReward]]

The soldier shakes his head. "Shut up! Don't you know, I could get --" "Private Euston! No fraternizing with prisoners!" barks the officer. The soldier scowls at you, then marches straight ahead into the rain, refusing to meet your eyes again. (display: "marchingToBridge")

You slip quietly through the darkness, steering clear of any lighted tents. After a time, you feel cobbles beneath your feet, and the tents are replaced by cottages lining narrow, winding streets. All are dark and silent, until you find yourself approaching a handsome roadside inn. Lamplight glimmers between lace curtains in a ground floor room, and you can almost make out voices. Two sullen soldiers huddle near the front steps, their coats dripping. Prince starts to turn aside, into an unlit alleyway. (if: $rtPresent is 1)[Rain and Tertia hurry after, but you hesitate.] [[Follow. ->followPrinceToCityNow]] [["Prince, wait! I want to find out what those guards are protecting." ->guardsAtInn]]

You scramble between two closely-spaced tents and clamber up a rocky slope between some alders. (if: $walloped is 1)[Out of sight, you halt, listening. Moments later, an uproar breaks out in the yard below. Evidently the guards have discovered the missing sentry. You don't wait to hear what they make of that.] (display: "alley")

Six guards march into the yard, led by an officer with a bedraggled feather in his helm. Seeing you, the officer barks: "Who goes there?" in Saragaian. The others surround you, pikes held low. [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim. Take me to my father!" ->princess]] [["Sorry, sir, I got lost returning to my inn. Can you give me directions?" ->directions]]

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Without warning, the flat of a pike slams against the side of your head. The unexpected blow sends you tumbling sideways. Your ear stings. (set: $princess to 1) The officer moves closer, staring down at you. "Detain (if: $rtPresent is 1)[them](else:)[her]," he orders his men. (display: "marchInside")

"Which inn? What's your business here?" demands the officer. Your rummage your mind for the names of typical Saragaian inns, and draw a blank. [["Uhh, the Tipsy Tailor." ->wrongInn]] [["Err, the Salty Sailor." ->rightInn]] [["Umm, the Juicy Jailor." ->wrongInn]]

The guards march you down the muddy street between the tents, splashing directly through puddles. Here and there, a soldier glances up curiously as you pass, and voices murmur within lamp-lit tents. But for the most part, the army is quiet. The russet dog pads along quietly, twenty feet behind. You glance up at the guard beside you. He's no older than you are. Water trickles down his freckled cheeks, wetting the scattering of hairs where he's been attempting to cultivate a beard. He keeps his eyes on the path ahead. [["Please, I've heard no news for days - what happened here?" ->whatHappened]] [["Hey you..." ->heyYou]]

"There's no such place. Guards, detain (if: $rtPresent is 1)[them](else:)[her]!" (display: "marchInside")

"What's that? Speak up!" "She said the Sultry Slayer," mutters one of the guards. "Oh, I *see*." The officer looks startled. Then he runs his eyes up and down your body. "That's on the south side of the village. Follow this street, then turn left at the blacksmith. It's just past the infirmary. Perhaps I'll see you there, later?" (if: $walloped is 1)[Your relief is cut short as the sentry puffs into the courtyard. "Arrest that girl! She whopped poor old Frank on the noggin with a zinfandel!" The officer scowls. "Detain her!" (display: "marchInside")](else:)[[["I doubt it. But thanks for the directions." ->doubtIt]] [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Charm")(display: "makeDice"): "I'll look forward to that. Just ask for Kitty, and I'll make sure your night is unforgettable." ->welcome]]]

"Oh, that's your attitude, is it? In that case, I'll have to bring you in. Guards, detain (if: $rtPresent is 1)[them](else:)[her]!" (display: "marchInside")

(display: "dice")(set: $data's charm to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[He leers at you. "Now, scram! And don't let me catch you on the streets again after curfew. I'll have to report you if I do." You hurry away in the direction he indicated. Night is falling, and the makeshift, rainswept streets between the tents are empty and dark. When the road curves, you take the chance to bolt down a narrow pathway between two tents. Prince rejoins you, panting. (display: "alley")](else:)[The officer's eyes narrow. "Something tells me you're not all you seem. I think I'd best detain you after all." (display: "marchInside")]

The bailiff's eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He sucks the breath between his teeth. "So it's true!" He picks up a heavy chain, and runs it between his hands. "I'll have you know, wench, the Princess Seline was my future Queen. The fairest ever to grace Stelgarte's court. And you, *you* dare insult her memory with your vapid comedy!" [["I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive." ->sorry]] [["Wait, what do you mean, insult her memory? She's not..." ->notDead]] [["But I *am* Seline! Seriously, you have to believe me! Send for the General, it must be someone I know." ->notDead]]

The bailiff's eyes narrow. "Oh, sure you are. And you'll be sorrier still after the General gets his hands on you." (display: "gagged")

The bailiff pulls the chain tight between his hands, then shoves you. You hit the wall with a gasp. He's right behind you, and the cold links press tight against your throat. You can barely breathe as he leans over you, eyes blazing, smelling of whiskey and stale sweat. Behind him, the officer looks on, indifferent. The bailiff knees you in the stomach. "I *loved* the Princess, you disgusting sow. As every loyal servant of the Crown did. And right now, nothing would give me more pleasure than to tighten this chain until your face turns black and your putrid, foolish mockery is silenced forever. And the only reason I restrain myself, is that the General himself left explicit instructions for dealing with such bottom-feeding scum as yourself." (display: "gagged")

The guards move off, and you can catch only smatterings of their conversation. They are grumbling about the general's private guard... every three hours... nobody gets released before they're checked. You sink to the dirt floor, groaning, and glance around. People sit or lie on the floor; there is nothing to lean on. A merchant complains loudly to anyone who will listen; he's an important man, this is all a misunderstanding, he demands to speak to someone in charge. A beggar-woman, painfully thin, drones a lullaby to a squalling baby. But most are silent, their expressions exasperated or resigned. Two hours or so later, approaching hooves clatter. [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): Pretend to be sick. ->sick]] [[Wait. ->wait]]

(if: $fireout is 0)[The others nod. The fire is blazing cheerfully now. You spread your damp garments before it, and settle in to wait, enjoying the warmth as the rain beats outside. (display: "caughtDozing")](else:)[Reluctantly, the others agree, shivering in the damp, chill air. Sitting still only makes you colder. The storm outside redoubles its fury. Grimly, you curl yourself in a ball, huddled against Tertia's warm side, and fall into a troubled daze. You're too cold and tense to sleep, but too weary to speak or even think clearly. Instead, your mind wanders aimlessly between the Sorcerer's tower and your current situation. It appears Isholme is under siege, and you can guess the likely culprit. And if your guess is correct, where do your loyalties lie? No certainty comes to you, only images. You recall Morael's amber eyes, the slow-growing trust starting to flower between you. And the Sorcerer's mocking words. Are you ever going to tell Morael the truth? (if: $data's marryR is 1)[And how will you tell Rain, if you do?] (if: $hurry is 1)[(display: "caughtDozing")](else:)[Groaning, you unfold your aching body, and realize it's dark outside. You must have slept. Your companions are all still unconscious; the russet hound is curled between your and Tertia's feet. As you stretch, they begin to stir; who could sleep deeply in such a place? (if: $sneak is 0)[Rummaging in the back of the shop, you find a coarse wool shawl, skirt and bonnet. You step into a closet to change and emerge to find the russet dog sitting by the door. Outside, the rain has at last ceased, and a slim moon glimmers on the ramshackle stalls. The night air smells fresh and still, with only a hint of charcoal drifting from wet, burnt wood. (set: $withMorael to 1) [["Let's go!" ->ignoreStares]]](else:)[(display: "creepOut")]]]

He eyes you greedily, like a sparrow eyes a seed. "Meaning? Is that how you greet your father's closest friend? No word of congratulations or well-wishing for our glorious campaign?" (set: $data's will to it + 1) [["Glorious campaign? It looks to me like an unprovoked attack upon a sovereign neighbor!" ->unprovoked]] [["How dare you! Release me at once!" ->releaseMe]]

At that, his grin becomes a chuckle. "Ah, Seline. If only you could appreciate the irony of your words. What greater provocation could there be than the abduction, rape and murder of our beloved Crown Princess?" (set: $data's will to it + 1) [["But I'm not dead!" ->noCrimes]] [["How dare you! Release me at once!" ->releaseMe]]

He ignores your words, still gazing at you with a strange, gloating expression. "You should have seen Torveld's grief when my men returned with the body. I have known him forty years, Seline, but I have never seen him weep like that. Not even when your dear mother passed. I think he blamed himself." [["He blamed himself?" ->blamedHimself]] [["The body?" ->yourEnvoy]] [["All the more reason to send word to him at once! Release me!" ->takeAtOnce]]

He eyes you greedily, like a sparrow eyes a seed. "Indeed, my dear, I'm sure you have. And I wonder, have you no word of congratulations or well-wishing for our glorious campaign? On the other hand, you finally did something right. You are, after all, *dead*." (set: $data's charm to it + 1) [["But I'm not! Oh, good Sir Raddibore, please, I beg you, take me to my father!" ->noCrimes]] [["Glorious campaign? It looks to me like an unprovoked attack upon a sovereign neighbor!" ->unprovoked]]

He gazes at you, smirking. "Now, now. Let's not be hasty. Don't you think the news would be a little disturbing for him? Haven't you caused him enough suffering?" (set: $data's will to it + 1) [["What do you mean? I've never caused him any suffering!" ->suffering]] [["This is treason, Raddibore!" ->treason]]

"But naturally he did. (display: "badParent")

Sir Raddibore preens a little. "Ah, well, it helps that I have certain friends here. With Rain and Morael missing, the line of succession is opaque. Some want to wait for confirmation of their deaths, but others feel the matter cannot be left in limbo. I happen to have an acquaintance, an eager young fellow. Of course, he leapt at the prospect of Thronheim's support to... clarify his position." (set: $data's likesY to it + 2) [[(set: $difficulty to (10-$data's likesY/4))(set: $skill_name to "Charm")(display: "makeDice"): "That sounds very... convenient." ->convenient]] [["I see." ->continue]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's charm to it + 2)(set: $data's likesY to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[Sir Raddibore chuckles, puffing himself like a cockerel. "Quite convenient, yes. Even in his dotage, old King Estevan would be a formidable strategic opponent. It's *fortuitous* that, some months ago, his preference for a certain Khargaian vintage became known to us. We were able to supply a case to this young lad, who, as is not uncommon among such men, found that his ambition surpassed his scruples. Tragically, the King has not been himself since receiving that very personal gift." (set: $data's knowsPoison to 1) [["I see." ->continue]] [["You're poisoning him." ->assassinated]]](else:)[Sir Raddibore chuckles, puffing himself like a cockerel. But his eyes remain cold. "Quite. If only you'd shown such insight *before* your untimely demise, my dear." (display: "continue")]

He takes another sip of the liqueur. Then he sighs. "I'd love to stay and chat with you all night. However, I'm afraid duty calls. I have *many* responsibilities, you see. Your father is quite reliant on me these days." [["Yes, I'm sure you do. So cease this appalling charade, and take me to the King!" ->takeMeToKing]] [["Speak plainly. Why have you brought me here?" ->whyHere]]

"Now, now. You should know better than to throw around such *wild* accusations." (display: "continue")

"Yes. Those Saragaian dogs disfigured your corpse beyond recognition. Fortunately, you still wore that distinctive locket." So. You wince, feeling the bare skin at your throat. Who died in your place? His gloating expression suggests he can guess your thoughts. "She *was* much like you - sly and underhanded, and a slattern to boot. An adequate pickpocket, but she won't be missed for that." [["Enough! You will release me, and send word to my father at once!" ->takeAtOnce]] [["This is treason, Raddibore!" ->treason]]

"Oh, no. I don't think that would be a good idea at all." (display: "whyHere")

He smiles nervously, and licks his lips. "I am sure you recall, Seline, that we did not part upon good terms last time we met. I am not a man to hold a grudge. However, as I have explained, our pretext for this war was that you had been brutally murdered by none other than the Prince of Saragai. That being the case, it would present a significant embarrassment to your father were you to suddenly turn up, alive and well. An embarrassment I do not intend to allow him to suffer." [["How considerate of you." ->considerate]] [["You're planning to murder the Crown Princess? Just to avoid admitting that you lied about me being dead?" ->murderMe]]

"No." His lip curves downward in hard contempt. "Not *just* for that. For bringing shame upon your family and your nation. For abandoning your father's friends and consorting with our enemies. It was not my intention to destroy you, Seline. You brought your fate upon yourself, with your flagrant disregard for morality and good sense. Now, however, your death is established, accepted fact. As far as everyone else is concerned, you are already dead. It is only *you* who disagree. And that problem, my dear, is easily corrected." [["Wait! What if I were to agree to marry you? Then once my father dies, you would be King of Thronheim. Wouldn't it be worth letting me live for that?" ->marryRaddibore]] [["Then do your worst, Yellowtooth. I'd rather die now than listen to your monologue a second longer!" ->radAttack]]

He chuckles. "Oh, you think I can be so easily led, do you? Once, I would have been tempted by the thought of possessing such nubile flesh. But no longer. Your ill nature has quite soured the prospect. And as for the Crown - well, let's just say, I've other fish to fry. Your father, after all, has no heir now, either." (display: "radAttack")

You plunge down the ladder, and jump to the floor of the tunnel from several feet up. Moments later, Nyora follows. (if: $radAttack is 0)[As you run, footsteps echoing on wet stone, Nyora tosses you her sword, and pulls a long dagger from her boot.] At the door, you find two guards waiting. (display: "fight")

(display: "dice") Nyora curses fluently. Abandoning the trapdoor, she tosses the sword to you. You snatch it from the air, surprisingly without losing any fingers. (set: $data's fight to it + 2) Two guards converge on you; (if: $success is false)[you back away, waving the sword in what you hope is a threatening manner. They do not look impressed.](else:)[as you back away, you note that the one on the left holds his broadsword loosely, as if discomfited by the weight. You make a feint to the right and smoothly twist to meet their dodge. The left guard, off balance, crumples as your blade slices into his bicep. He drops his sword with a grunt of pain, clutching at his arm.] The others pursue Nyora, but she ducks and rolls between them. Agile as a cat, she leaps onto the desk, drawing a dagger from her boot as she flies. She lands in a crouch, and a moment later her dagger is pressed to Raddibore's throat. He squeaks. "Nyora! What -- what are you doing? Whatever she's paying you, I'll double it!" "Tell your guards to leave," she commands him. "Or I'm going to start enjoying myself." His pale eyes dart frantically. It appears he's familiar with her proclivities. "Nyora -" his voice comes out in a thin, desperate whine. He starts again, this time barking sternly: "Nyora!" "Shut. Up." she suggests, and presses the blade closer. "If I sever your windpipe, you won't be able to talk any more. And you have no idea how many times I've wished for that." He looks as if he might vomit. He says nothing more. Nyora stares at the guards. "Go. Now. Or I'll slit your General open like a piggie." They look at one another, uncertain. "Go!" yelps Raddibore. They go. Nyora jerks her head toward the trapdoor. You hesitate. But the only other option is the door outside which the guards are doubtless waiting. (display: "downTrapdoor")

You raise your sword, hoping to block the soldier's strike. He merely laughs at you, and brushes it aside with one swipe of his blade. But you don't let the blade fall; instead, you leap lightly aside, turning so the other sword slides past you. (display: "dodge")

The bright blade slashes downward before your eyes, its arc fast as thought and yet it seems infinitely slow. In that split second you have time to rage against the muscles that fail to carry you out of its trajectory. Then it's gone, leaving a line of stinging fire across your lip, but nothing more. The man's strike carries him past you, overbalancing as his sword clatters on stone. As he falls, you notice bare skin at the back of his neck, exposed between mail shirt and helm. [[(set: $difficulty to 10)(set: $skill_name to "Fight")(display: "makeDice"): Attack. ->attackSoldier]] [[Wait for a better opportunity. ->waitSoldier]]

"Indeed it is. You see, girls like you, Seline, are nothing but trouble. I can only imagine the humiliation and despair you've visited upon the King in the years of your existence. Your death is painful to him, true. But it's your own personality that doomed you, and one way or another, you were certain to come to a bad end. Now, he is resigned to that fact. And I see no reason whatsoever to make him endure that grief all over again by resurrecting you." [["Wait! What if I were to agree to marry you? Then once my father dies, you would be King of Thronheim. Wouldn't it be worth letting me live for that?" ->marryRaddibore]] [["Then do your worst, Yellowtooth. I'd rather die now than listen to your monologue a second longer!" ->radAttack]]

He jerks his head at the masked page. "Finish her. In whatever manner pleases you." The slender page approaches, looking you up and down coldly. You think you see a glint of anticipation in the blue eyes. You hear the zing of a drawn sword - and suppress a gasp, as you recognize the delicate, jeweled hilt of that gleaming blade. The page meets your eyes. You fight your bonds, but you can barely move; the more you struggle, the tighter they become. She puts a hand behind your head, pulling back your hair to expose your throat, then leans close to nip gently where the large vein pulses. She whispers, barely audibly, "Remember me, Highness?" Her blue eyes flicker with satisfaction, though you do not answer. "I did promise you *another time*, didn't I?" Her nails dig deep into your skin. She raises the sword high, graceful in every move. Even masked and hooded, she's breathtakingly beautiful. "Ready, Highness?" You sense a smile in the gleam of her eyes. The sword descends in a shining arc, slashing through your bonds. You leap to your feet. Raddibore shouts; guards pour into the room. Nyora has the trapdoor open. [[Go down. ->downTrapdoor]] [[(set: $difficulty to 10)(set: $skill_name to "Fight")(display: "makeDice"): Stay and fight. ->fightRaddibore]]

You try to put the bodies out of your mind as you hurtle up the staircase in Nyora's wake. She leads you along a maze of criss-crossing, cobbled alleyways, to a plain door in a wall of stone. It opens on another stairway leading down into darkness. "In here!" she hisses. You dab your sleeve against your mouth. Even by night, you can see the dark stain spreading. [[Follow her. ->followNyora]] [["Wait!" ->waitNyora]] [["No! I'm not going any further until you answer some questions." ->answer]]

"Are you tired, Highness? Would you like me to rub your feet while we wait for the guards?" Her tone is pure sugar. (set: $farbehind to 1) [["We've left them far behind. What are you doing here? And why did you save me?" ->answer]] [["Fine, but I'm going to need some answers soon." ->followNyora]]

She glares at you coldly. "(if: $farbehind is 1)[We're not two hundred yards from where we started, Highness. And ]I do what's necessary. Regardless of whether it's what I want." (set: $answer to 1) (set: $gotletter to 1) From a fold in her cloak, she removes a letter marked with a large seal in blood-red wax. The design shows a tower rising above a terraced island. Goroduin. You turn it over. On the front is your name, written in red ink in an elegant, curving hand. A wave of dread washes over you. [[Break the seal. ->readLetter]] [[Keep the letter intact. ->keepLetter]]

It's dated three days ago. On creamy parchment, in the same curving hand, you read: (set: $data's readKLetter to 1) *Dear Seline, I trust this missive finds you well. Since our last parting, I have often thought of you, but as of the time of writing, my spies report little news. You are doubtless wondering why I am writing to you at all. The truth is, I greatly enjoyed our little tete-a-tete, most especially those parts that did not entirely conform to my plans and expections. As I reflect upon your visit, I see my own choices in a new light, which is a rare and painful pleasure to me. So I find myself in magnanimous mood. I am curious to see what you will do with your freedom - as temporary as it may be, but then, when is freedom anything else? Therefore, for my amusement, I send you the bearer of this letter. She is commanded to remain at your side and serve you, until I order otherwise. I hope you will find her useful, and moreover, enjoyable. Yours (as you are mine), (if: $data's lostGame is 2)[Kiaru](else:)[The Sorcerer]* [["Great. A permanent spy in my ranks." ->permanentSpy]] (if: $radchat is 1)[[["So if you were supposed to serve me, what were you doing with Raddibore?" ->whyNyRad]]](else:)[[["So how exactly did you find me here?" ->whyNyRad]]]

Uneasily, you tuck the letter inside your dress. Just seeing it dredges up half-processed memories from recent dreams and nightmares. You understand, now, why people don't want to use the Sorcerer's name. It's not his unearthly powers that make him frightening. It's his monstrous humanity. You shake your head. Focus. You have more immediate problems than Caer Goroduin. (if: $radChat is 1)[Your father is somewhere nearby. If you can only reach him, your very existence should suffice to convince him of Yellowtooth's betrayal. But will that stop the war?](else:)[You'll never persuade your father to stop this war. And Raddibore has clearly been planning this invasion for years. Is there any way to prevent the conquest of Isholme?] In any case, you must first deal with Nyora. [["What are you doing here? Did Kiaru send you?" ->whyNyoraHere]]

She rolls her eyes. "Who else? Do you think I'd preserve your life if I had any other choice, princess? Read the damned letter, if you want to understand." [[Read the letter. ->readLetter]] [["But why would he do that? Did he change his mind?" ->changeMind]]

"He does as he pleases. You should know that by now. And no, I'm not here to drag you back to him. I am commanded to *serve* you," she sneers. "If you want to understand more, read the letter." [["Serve me how, exactly?" ->howServe]] [["I don't want your service, Nyora. Go back to your master!" ->goAwayNyora]] [[Read the letter. ->readLetter]]

"Right now, by not letting you stand around asking stupid questions until Yellowtooth's men arrive and skewer you." (if: $radchat is 1)[[["Last question. If you're supposed to serve me, what were you doing with Raddibore?" ->whyNyRad]]](else:)[[["Last question. How exactly did you find me here?" ->whyNyRad]]] [["Fine, let's go." ->followNyora]]

"I am instructed to remain at your side, Princess." [["So how are you supposed to serve me, exactly?" ->howServe]] [["Great. A permanent spy in my ranks." ->permanentSpy]]

She shrugs. "You could command me not to share information with him." [["But why would I trust you to obey that command? If you are a spy, then he will have instructed you to lie about that." ->whyTrust]] [["Don't share information with Kiaru, then." ->dontTellKiaru]]

(if: $radchat is 1)["It was the fastest way to find you. We expected you to come to Isholme, and I had no need to ride the back roads, so I arrived before you. When Yellowtooth laid siege to Isholme this morning, I knew he would fear your return, even though he hoped you were already dead. Clearly I would not be able to dissuade him from killing you. But he trusted me, and he has always enjoyed... watching me work. So I revealed myself, and instead convinced him that I should be your executioner. Now, can we *please* get out of sight before we're arrested?"](else:)["Did I not tell you of my ...relationship... with Yellowtooth? We expected you to come to Isholme, and I had no need to ride the back roads, so I arrived before you. Naturally, having convinced Torveld to attack by blaming Saragai for your murder, Yellowtooth feared you would be found and his deception uncovered. He has spies everywhere. Yet by some astonishing good fortune, you reached Torveld undetected. So I told Yellowtooth I'd sink your body in the harbor and if the King said anything, the Court would think him driven mad by grief... which would suit Yellowtooth well. Yellowtooth trusts me, and he has always admired my work, so it was trivial to convince him that I should be your assassin. His spies reported your location to me. Now, can we *please* get out of sight before we're arrested?" ] (display: "followNyora")

Torveld knew he was too soft on you, but he could not help himself. You were all he had left to remind him of *her*." "Of course, we all assured him it was not his fault. Some children are just, well, bad eggs, you might say. But the strange thing is, he really did love you, Seline. After the news, he went into his chambers and neither ate nor slept for days. When he came out, he was like another man. A decade older, grim and utterly cold." [["So that's how you provoked him to attack Saragai. I see you're quite the puppeteer." ->howCapture]] [[Say nothing. ->continue]]

"But of course you did. (display: "badParent")

(set: $hurry to 1)(display: "getInside")

Morael nods. "I think that would be wise." (display: "getInside")

Rain and Tertia follow your lead as you toss your sword to the ground. "Bring them outside! It's too dark in here." shouts the officer. They shove you out into the muddy street. The officer glares at you in particular. "On your knees! You're all under arrest!" (set: $rtPresent to 1) [[Obey. ->obeyGuard]] [["By whose authority?" ->authority]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's fight to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[You whip your sword from its sheath, slashing ferociously at the officer. He reels at the unhesitating fury of your attack. Rain is at your side at once. His blade flashes in the firelight as with one smooth swing he dispatches the officer, and spins to run a second soldier through. The guard doubles up with a horrible gurgling yelp, but Rain's already freed his blade and is advancing on the third. The man backs away, eyes wide; he does not see the russet dog until its teeth sink into his sword arm. He drops the blade, cursing. "We'll be back!" he snaps. The remaining guards flee. "Let's get out of here!" Rain wipes his sword. You step gingerly over the bodies and out into darkness. (display: "creepOut")](else:)[You manage to draw your sword, but you cannot get close enough to touch the pikemen. The others have no better luck. Fortunately, the guards seem to have no intention of harming you, but it's obvious within moments that the battle is futile. (set: $rtPresent to 1) (display: "dropWeapons")]

"King Torveld of Thronheim!" Frowning, he adds, "You're no Saragaian. What are you doing here?" [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim, you twit! Release us!" ->princess]] [["We're, uh, travelling wine merchants. We've an excellent selection of fine Saragaian beverages for the thirsty soldier." ->wineMerchants]]

"That's true. But you must realize by now that the Sorcerer dislikes lies as much as he enjoys deceit. And he has no need of lies to spy upon you." [["Don't share information with Kiaru, then." ->dontTellKiaru]] (if: $radchat is 1)[[["Fair enough. So if you were supposed to serve me, what were you doing with Raddibore?" ->whyNyRad]]](else:)[[["Fair enough. How exactly did you find me here?" ->whyNyRad]]]

"Fine. Now, will you move?" (if: $radchat is 1)[[["Last question. If you're supposed to serve me, what were you doing with Raddibore?" ->whyNyRad]]](else:)[[["Last question. How exactly did you find me here?" ->whyNyRad]]] [["Fine, let's go." ->followNyora]]

The door closes; you stand on the stairs in pitch blackness. Nyora's footsteps recede ahead; you follow hesitantly down the rough stone stairs, running one hand against the cold wall. Soon, the passage levels out. Is the whole village honeycombed with such underground tunnels? In a few minutes, she beckons you up another flight of stairs. This time, you climb a long way. Partway up, the tunnel is pierced by a thread of golden light trickling between the stones in the wall. Music and voices drift through. A party? Again, you dab at your wounded lip. It's hurting more, but the bleeding has eased. [[Peek through the gap in the stones. ->peek]] [[Hurry after Nyora. ->hurryNyora]]

Putting your eye to the crack, you glimpse a dark red wall that glistens and slithers. Then it slides away, and you realize it was the hem of a lady's silken gown. Boots and elegant slippers swish past at eye-level; above them dangle a rainbow of exotic fashions that are clearly designed to enhance rather than conceal the flesh. Some are dancing, others lounge upon plush furnishings, limbs entangled. Scented smoke drifts through the air. You feel light-headed already. "Come on, princess." Nyora's voice is impatient. (display: "hurryNyora")

At the top of the stairs you find another plain wooden door. Nyora knocks in a careful rhythm. A soft woof replies. The door opens, and dazzling golden light spills out. In the midst of it sits the russet dog, thumping his tail on the floor. Nyora pushes you forward. "Wait here. I must find Rain and Tertia before word spreads of what I've done." (if: $gotletter is 0)[From a fold in her cloak, she removes a letter marked with a large seal in blood-red wax. The design shows a tower rising above a terraced island. Goroduin. You turn it over. On the front is your name, written in red ink in an elegant, curving hand. A wave of dread washes over you. ]You start to protest, but she cuts you off. "Save it, princess. Your friends are in danger. And if we don't move fast, by this time tomorrow, Estevan will be dead, and *Leviathan* will lie at the bottom of the sea." [["But --" ->butNyora]] [["Thank you." ->thanksNy]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's fight to it + 2) You raise your blade high and stab downwards into the man's neck. You aim between the vertebrae, but he's rolling even as you strike, and the blade (if: $success is true)[instead slices through soft flesh. Blood fountains out, showering you and everything around, while the man folds like a house of cards. You must have hit the jugular. You stand swaying, too nauseous with shock to feel any triumph. A trickle of warmth runs down your chin.](else:)[flies wide. He leaps away from you, cursing, and in mid-air meets Nyora's rapier. The momentum skewers him; he collapses writhing in pain, showering you and everything around with blood.] "Move, Highness!" snaps Nyora. She grabs your arm and half-drags you away. (display: "wonFight")

You cower toward the wall. A trickle of warmth runs down your chin. The soldier rises, grinning at you. "I'm gonna enjoying cutting you," he snarls. He raises his blade, the steel glinting wickedly. Abruptly, his face goes slack, the eyes unfocused. He slumps to the ground. Nyora tugs her dagger from his back and wipes it carefully upon his sleeve. "Highness," she suggests acidly, "I didn't give you that blade just to look pretty. Next time, use it!" (display: "wonFight")

He squints at you. "Ah... well. There's a, uh, customs fee. Thirty silvers." He glances back toward the walls nervously. Feigning outrage, you hand over the money. The guard hurries back to the tower, and waves you past impatiently. "Now, stay out of sight! It's past curfew. You can trade your wines tomorrow. And don't tell nobody about this, okay?" You hurry past between the tents. A few soldiers are out, struggling to light campfires in the muddy gloom. They glance at you curiously, but say nothing. As you cross an open yard, there's a clatter of boots approaching. [[Hide. ->hideAlley]] [[Try to bluff. ->bluffInCity]]

You gesture at a small barrel. He leans over, sniffing. [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Fight")(display: "makeDice"): Wallop him with a bottle. ->wallopGuard]] [["Kind sir, why conduct our business out here at all? My family is depending on me to sell these wines at the encampment. Let me in, sir, and you can try them at your leisure. I'd be happy to offer a, err, discount." ->askSentry]]

His voice is soft and dangerous. "It won't do you any good, *princess*." (display: "iSee")

He nods sympathetically. [["Morael... there's something we need to talk about." ->needToTalk]] [[Say nothing. ->downToPlains]]

Mountain sunlight slants through Morael's eyes, lifting amber to gold. "Why do you say that?" (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) [["Well, I never feel like anyone approves of me. They want me to be quiet and submissive and decorous, and never have ideas or plans of my own. It's suffocating." ->suffocating]] [["I hate living at court! I have to wear these stupid dresses and tiaras... it takes them hours just to get me dressed, and then life is nothing but endless ceremonies and rituals and gossip and parties. Even though I'm the Crown Princess they never let me decide anything for myself, let alone the nation. Basically I'm treated like some sort of purebred ornamental pet, being groomed and trained until I'm ready to be auctioned off to some rich lecher who'll sire litter after litter of snotty miniature aristocrats on me." ->complainAboutCourt]]

Morael's lips quirk upwards. "I can see why you would resent that. Are the women of Thronheim always treated so? Here in Saragai, girls are educated in much the same manner as boys. Some even choose to become fighters." (set: $data's likesM to it + 2) You nod. You do recall hearing of the warrior maids of Saragai, though you had assumed it was just another of Nurse's old tales. He shakes his head in sympathy. "Have you heard of Queen Istaven? She was a renowned swordswoman, as well as a mighty conquerer. And Kerriel Ironsword led Saragai's armies to victory in the founding of the First Empire. There are many others." [["So... you don't think it's weird that I want to rule in my own name? Or learn swordfighting?" ->notWeird]] [["I hope that one day my countrymen may be so enlightened." ->enlightened]]

Morael nods. "Sometimes I felt the same way." (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) [["Really? You always seem so perfectly poised. As if being regal came naturally to you." ->seemPoised]] [["But at least you're a boy. You knew you were destined to have real power in the world. And you got to learn sword-fighting! The biggest weapon I ever held was a knitting needle." ->complainAboutCourt]]

Morael laughs. "Seline, I'd think it weird if you didn't. Your lineage has ruled Thronheim for generations; were there no fire in your blood, you would not be your father's child." (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) [["Morael... there's something we need to talk about." ->needToTalk]] [[Say nothing. ->downToPlains]]

He shakes his head, smiling. "It took years of training to perfect that act. But that's all it is, Seline. An act I keep up so constantly it's become habit. Inside, I felt like you describe. That people were never happy with me as I was, and I had to scrub and hide and alter everything people saw of me, just to prevent them being constantly annoyed. That stupid quest... I told myself it was heroic. But in retrospect, I think maybe I just wanted to escape."(set: $data's likesM to it + 3) Now he meets your eyes again. "But with you, Seline, it's not like that." [["Uh, thanks... I think." ->footInMouth]] [["At least you're a boy. You knew you were destined to have real power in the world. And you got to learn sword-fighting! The biggest weapon I ever held was a knitting needle." ->complainAboutCourt]]

He laughs. [["Morael... there's something we need to talk about." ->needToTalk]] [[Say nothing. ->downToPlains]]

He inclines his head. "With you at their helm, they'll surely become more so."(set: $data's likesM to it + 1) [["Morael... there's something we need to talk about." ->needToTalk]] [[Say nothing. ->downToPlains]]

You drop to your knees. Rain and Tertia follow your lead. The officer moves closer, staring down at you. "Don't you know this is a war zone? What's your business here?" [["By whose authority are we being detained?" ->authority]] [["A war zone? What do you mean?" ->warZone]]

"King Torveld has liberated the city from its oppressors. But we could be attacked at any time." He frowns. "You're no Saragaian. What are you doing here?" [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim, you twit! Release us!" ->princess]] [["We're, uh, travelling wine merchants. We've an excellent selection of fine Saragaian beverages for the thirsty soldier." ->wineMerchants]]

The officer grunts. "Idiots, walking into the middle of a war zone. I'll have to detain you lot. Be grateful you're alive!" [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim, you twit! Release us!" ->princess]] [["Please, let us go! We won't cause any trouble, I swear!" ->letUsGo]]

The officer merely scowls at you. "Bring them," he orders his men. With brutal efficiency, they shackle the three of you in a chain. You are led down the road to the sprawling tent-city of Thronheim's army. (display: "marchInside")

The merchant glares at you. "More favoritism! Why does *she* get to go first? This is absurd, I tell you!" (display: "dontLookBack")

It's still raining. There's no sign of the russet dog. Night has fallen, and almost no lamps are lit. (set: $radchat to 1) You are led out of the tent city, and along back roads to a village nestled around a handsome roadside inn. Most of its windows are dark. Two soldiers watch you pass, their expressions stony. Beyond the inn, you come to a row of houses. The guards hurry you down a side alley, and open an unmarked door. Inside, you can see nothing. Someone pushes you forward, onto thin air; after a heartbeat's panic, your foot strikes the stair. Ten steps down, you reach a tunnel. At its far end stands a ladder, illuminated by a square outline of light above. Your skin prickles. This is surely not standard protocol(if: $princess is 1)[, even for peasants guilty of insensitive jokes]. One guard climbs up and lifts away a trapdoor. [[Dazzling light streams down into the cellar. ->dazzled]]

He shakes his head. "Tsk, tsk," he purrs. "Don't you understand? (if: $princess is 1)[Impersonating the princess is a serious crime. Especially so soon after her tragic passing at the hands of those filthy Saragaians.](else:)[Your appearance would only ...confuse... people. I'm sure you wouldn't want to cause any more trouble, would you? Especially so soon after your tragic passing at the hands of those filthy Saragaians.]" [["But I'm not dead!" ->noCrimes]] [["Let me go, you slimeball!" ->noCrimes]]

"Au contraire, my dear. Everything *I* do is for the glory of Thronheim. I have served our nation faithfully for more than six decades. Sometimes, that service requires certain, well, distasteful choices. But any *true* monarch would understand that they are necessary. I have supported your father's reign throughout, though not all his choices have been wise." He sighs ostentatiously. "You, however... (display: "badParent")

As you speak, she's turning away. She vanishes, cat-silent down the stairs. (display: "ch16")

She inclines her head, a gesture devoid of deference. Then she vanishes, cat-silent down the stairs. (set: $data's likesN to it + 1) (display: "ch16")

Morael shakes his head, but says nothing. Peeking outside, you see that the sky has cleared a little. Your garments are still damp, though, and your companions could use a rest. [["Let's rest here a bit. We can move more discreetly after dark." ->waitForMorael]] (set: $sneak to 1) [["We'd better go while the weather holds." ->leave]]

Your clothes are clammy and cold, and the others grumble as they peer out at the gloomy sky, shivering. "This break won't hold," mutters Rain. "All the more reason to move swiftly," snaps Morael. His face is pinched with anxiety. Rain lays a hand on his shoulder. In the days since Caer Goroduin, you've watched the brothers grow close. Rain's admiration for the great knight seems undiminished, but his awe has been tempered by a more genuine intimacy. (if: $data's marryR is 1)[The observation makes your inner torment worse. Would curing Morael tear apart that relationship as well as your own?] Everything seems grey; you plod wearily through the muck. Soon, the storm redoubles its fury, soaking you to the skin once more. There is no sunset; it simply grows more and more difficult to see. (display: "tramping")

Wrinkling your nose, you duck into the alleyway. Prince sits on his haunches, raising one paw to his muzzle in a distinctly human gesture for silence. (set: $creek to 1) (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) After thirty-odd heartbeats, hooves clatter and men's voices rumble as a patrol passes by. You hold your breath. When the sound of their footsteps fades, you creep out of the alley. Prince leads you zig-zagging downhill between ragged buildings, along the banks of a gushing creek that leads you in amongst the tents. It's a good choice, though not pleasant; the mud is ankle-deep, soft as custard, and sucks at your legs. The soldiers have all retreated to shelter, but for two sentries who keep a desultory lookout beneath a flap of canvas. [[Climb down into the creek. ->walkInCreek]] [[Send Prince to distract the soldiers. ->princeDistracts]]

Prince whines, but you ignore him. There's no time to waste! You hurry on up the street. (display: "tramping")

(display: "dice")(set: $data's fight to it + 2)(set: $walloped to 1) (if: $success is true)[He slumps neatly to the ground, without even a groan. A whistle blasts furiously above. You bolt between the tents, hoping to lose yourself among them. But as you cross an open yard, you hear the ring of boots approaching. [[Hide between the tents. ->hideAlley]] [[Try to bluff. ->bluffInCity]]](else:)[As you raise you arm to strike, the guard glances up and leaps aside, swearing. The bottle finds only air, and a whistle blasts furiously above you. "What the hell was that for?!" The guard draws his sword, advancing on you. Moments later, you hear the tramp of marching boots. Many boots. A tall officer glares down at you both. The guard sheaths his sword, darting nervous glances at you. "This woman wanted to enter the city after curfew. I was just sending her on her way when she assaulted me!" The officer's scowl deepens. "You should not have left your post, soldier. Whatever you had in mind. As for the woman... He looks you up and down. "Detain her." There are far too many for fighting to be an option. (display: "marchInside")]

Smirking, he dabs at his mouth with a fine linen cloth. "Be that as it may... I think it only fitting that you should know what your choices have wrought, Seline. In a magnificent fury, Torveld ordered us to ride for Saragai. News of your murder incited even the humblest of soldiers to fiery rage. They marched day and night for your memory, Princess. The Saragaians were caught entirely unprepared this morning. And in a few days, for the first time in decades, the King of Thronheim shall sit upon the Saragaian throne." He chuckles. "In a way, Seline, you could say dying was the best thing you've ever done for your family." [["But what about *The Leviathan*? Remember, the greatest warship the world has ever seen? Isn't it protecting Isholme?" ->warship]] [["My father's here? Leading the army?" ->here]] [["Except that I'm not actually dead." ->iSee]]

Which means making an awkward decision. (set: $canundo to true) Morael. (if: $data's marryR is 1)[Surely Rain would understand. Wouldn't he? But the thought of discussing it with him still makes you cringe. And even if he does understand... would it change his feelings toward you? You've sensed jealousy in him more than once. Perhaps it would be better to speak with Morael first. But that conversation is equally awkward. ]You know, and you know *he* knows. But *he* does not know that *you* know. And the necessity of that conversation - let alone the choice itself... It is not that he's unattractive. Quite the opposite. But it's a delicate and private matter, and he's rarely human, and when he is, you are rarely alone with him. On the few occasions when you tried to broach the subject, he quickly redirected the conversation. And you can always do it later. A little delay does no harm. In fact, his canine form has proven useful in your perilous travels. Why not wait until you're safe in Isholme? [[Congratulate yourself on your ability to rationalize. ->cowardice]] [[Oh look, another magnificent alpine vista! ->cowardice]]

"That is *Leviathan*. The mightiest battleship to ever grace these seas. She can carry a thousand men, and her fifty cannons will hurl a boulder with enough force to smash a castle wall. My grandfather always said she would be his greatest legacy, keeping Saragai safe for decades to come. (set: $ship to 1) For war is not her true purpose. Her magnificence reveals the true strength of Saragai, in terms no enemy can fail to understand. When I left Isholme, she was still ashore, and a hundred carpenters were at work shaping her fittings, carved in the likeness of sea gods and ancient kings. She was to be painted in carmine and gold, her ceilings mosaics of beetle wings and gemstones, every wall a fresco decorated by our greatest artists with scenes of Saragaian history. I see she's afloat now. So perhaps that work is finished. I hope to show her to you later, Seline." [["So that I may admire the true strength of Saragai?" ->magnificence]] [["Why thank you, I'd love to see her." ->loveToSeeShip]]

He flushes, caught off guard by the jibe. "I did not intend - Seline, no matter what may happen between our nations, I would never think of *you* as an enemy of Saragai." [["No, I'm sure you just want to show me your warship because it's pretty." ->prettyShip]] [["Of course not. I'd love to see her." ->loveToSeeShip]]

"Then I shall be delighted to show you. In truth, Seline, I look forward to sharing the whole city with you.(set: $data's likesM to it + 1)(if: $city is 0)[ (display: "city")](else:)[" He hesitates, then adds: (display: "homeSpecial")]

He looks away, then meets your eyes again, though his blush lingers. His tone is serious, and a little sad. "In truth, Seline, I cannot help but wish to impress you. Were you not taught that Saragaians are little more than barbarians? I would wish that our neighbors see us in a better light. And I would wish that my friend understands my people better still. For I am their prince, and everything I am is their creation." [["I understand. They're your people... it's your home..." ->homeSpecial]] [["My father might have called your people barbarians, Morael, but the court knew better. Every ball was fueled with Khargaian wine and cheese. Our most renowned artists and musicians studied in Isholme. The prejudice was never more than a political fiction." ->politicalFiction]]

Yellowtooth giggles. "One thing you need to understand about enormous warships, Seline, is that they are supposed to float. Now, Estevan may be a very clever king, but he's not an engineer. The Leviathan holds seventy cannons, protected below her decks, with ports at the side to shoot through. And a lot of ammunition, naturally. Tricky to balance with all that on board, I'm told." [["What are you implying?" ->justSank]] [[(set: $difficulty to (10-$data's likesY/4))(set: $skill_name to "Charm")(display: "makeDice"): "You *sabotaged* her? Oh, I knew you were cunning, Yellowtooth, but to reach into the heart of Estevan's fleet - it sounds beyond belief!" ->notYourFault]]

"She'll look quite splendid on her maiden voyage tomorrow, I expect. Setting out to defend Isholme against my fleet, with fourteen hundred of Estevan's finest soldiers aboard." His eyes bulge with toadish glee. He takes another sip and licks his lips noisily. [["Go on." ->iSee]] [[(set: $difficulty to (10-$data's likesY/4))(set: $skill_name to "Charm")(display: "makeDice"): "You *sabotaged* her? Oh, I knew you were cunning, Yellowtooth, but to reach into the heart of Estevan's fleet - it sounds beyond belief!" ->notYourFault]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's charm to it + 2)(set: $data's likesY to it + 2) (if: $success is true)["The head shipwright was a stuffy fellow, meticulous and unimaginative, but he passed away, oddly enough, shortly after construction began. Had to leave everything to his apprentice, who wasn't nearly so inflexible. Did I mention that some of the boards were a tad shorter than they were supposed to be? I *may* have had a word with the carpenters. Quality timber is awfully expensive, you know." (set: $data's knowsShip to 1)(display: "iSee")](else:)[(display: "iSee")]

He inclines his head. "I wish my own nobility were as perceptive. Prejudice may be fiction, but it's a dangerous kind, for when enough believe, they create their own reality." (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) [["That's why I'm here with you. To remind them that we're human, just like them, and none of us really wants a war." ->noWar]] [["So what were you taught of Thronheim, then?" ->whatThronheim]]

"I hope your faith is not misplaced, Seline." His voice is quiet, his eyes serious. "Most, I think, will understand when they see you... but there are some whose souls are lost in malicious dreams. Do not underestimate their hunger for catastrophe." [["We can only try." ->homeSpecial]] [["So what were you taught of Thronheim, then?" ->whatThronheim]]

He speaks carefully. "My mother taught me to judge a man only by his choices, never by his birth. And I have always striven to do so. But my cousins would speak of Thronheim as a backward place, where women are treated as chattels, the peasants are little more than slaves to the King's taxes, and even the nobility live on boiled rutabagas." [["Wait, what? Your people don't like rutabagas? But what do you eat, then?" ->rutabagas]] [["Huh. I hate to say it, but that's kind of accurate." ->accurate]]

He stares at you confusedly. "Ah... well... actually, there are several other root vegetables. Carrots. Parsnip. Various tubers. Also lettuce and squash. Fruits and grains. Meat. Bread. Dairy products." [["Those are made out of rutabagas, right?" ->rutabagas2]] [["Wow! I never realized all of those were edible... you Saragaians really are adventurous with food." ->rutabagas2]]

"I am sure it's not as bad as my cousins claimed, though." He hesitates. "Do you miss your home, Seline?" It's a good question. Something inside glows when you think of Stelgarte, and it's not just a longing for safety. You think of bright halls buzzing with cheerful, familiar voices, the raucous cobbled streets and markets. Of afternoon wanderings with Tertia, whispered secrets and stolen sweets when you eluded your tutor's scolding. Even your midnight escapades with Rain, which once seemed so wild and daring, now glimmer with nostalgia. The city may be dwarfed by Isholme, but an intimate knowledge of its every alleyway and myth is embroidered in your soul. Your heart even aches for your comfortable bedroom with its bookshelves and bright carpet, and the silken coverlet upon the bed gleaming in the morning sun. But just as longing seizes you, you imagine the web of courtly life closing in upon you, invisible yet suffocating. Do you really want to go back to that? To the constant friction of your nature against the expectations of your family and allies? Will things be different when you return? [["I do." ->doMissHome]] [["It's complicated. I do miss my home, but I don't miss the life I had there." ->missHomeNotLife]]

"Umm..." Morael looks acutely embarrassed. [["That was a joke, Morael." ->joke]] [[Say nothing. ->nothingMorael]]

"Oh." After a few moments, he asks: (display: "homeSpecial")

He glances at you for a split-second, then looks away, frowning hard. [["Please, I've heard no news for days - what happened here?" ->whatHappened]] [["You recognize me, don't you? I can see it in your eyes." ->recognize]]

He shakes his head, looking away. "I don't know what you mean, miss." [["Never mind... Please, I've heard no news for days - what happened here?" ->whatHappened]] [["I'm the Crown Princess. If you help me, I'll see that you're rewarded beyond your wildest dreams." ->princessReward]]

The soldier scowls at you. Then he signals the officer. They march ahead, and you cannot overhear what is said. (set: $princess to 1) (display: "marchingToBridge")

The guards lead you to a large, shabby tent outside which several guards loiter. The russet dog starts to follow you in, but one of the guards aims a kick at him. He slinks away into the shadows. As you enter, the odor of unwashed humans assaults your nostrils. The tent is crowded with weary commoners, watched by more guards. It's a makeshift prison, and the bailiff is displeased. "What, more miscreants?" he grumbles. "(if: $rtPresent is 1)[I've no room, I tell you. Send them to the other jail! Oh, very well, I'll take one of them. But the other two will have to go." The officer shrugs. "You heard the man. Those two." You watch helplessly as guards drag Rain and Tertia away. The bailiff continues to grumble. "]These Saragaian rats have no respect for the law. T'is a firm hand they need. If the General would just permit me to execute one every hour, they'd soon learn to toe the line." (if: $princess is 1)[The officer tugs him aside, speaking softly. The bailiff, listening, darts increasingly furious glances at you. When the officer falls silent, the bailiff stomps over to you. (display: "princessJail")](else:)[The officer shakes his head. "If you did that, the populace would rise up against us. So far, we've been lucky. Sailed in here with barely a scratch upon us, and the peasants surrendered without a peep. You've the General's wisdom to thank for that." The bailiff shakes his head. "Tell me again how easy war is after we win the siege." [[Wait. ->sayNothing]] [["I am no Saragaian! Do you not recognize your Crown Princess?" ->princessJail]]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) Coughing and spluttering, you roll on the dirt floor as if in the grips of convulsions. Your fellow prisoners edge away. The bailiff glances toward you, frowning at the fuss. "Sir, she's ill! I think she's going to throw up..." You moan incoherently in reply. "Ugh! Get her out of here before we all catch plague!" The bailiff stands up. You teeter unsteadily toward him, (if: $success is true)[giving a convincing impression that you are about to vomit on his shoes. He sidesteps, then (display: "runawaylatrines")](else:)[trying to look like you are about to vomit on his shoes. He sidesteps, grimacing, then aims a sharp kick at your shin. Without thinking, you jump backward, neatly evading the blow. The bailiff shakes his head. "Have you fools no discernment? She's obviously faking!" He turns to you. "Now, settle down, or I'll give you a real reason to moan." (set: $pretendedsick to 1) (if: $interrogating is 0)[(display: "wait")](else:)[(display: "waitSoldiers")]]

The men nod to one another. Without a word, they pull you to your feet. Before you can even start to plead with them, they bind a gag across your mouth and tie your hands behind your back. You are dragged out of the tent. [[Look back. ->lookBack]] [[Don't look back. ->dontLookBack]]

The flap swings open, and a pair of soldiers enter. These men are dressed in black, with no insignia. One by one, the prisoners are called up and interrogated. You can't hear the questions, but the soldiers look grim and bored, while the prisoners look anxious. Each interrogation ends the same way: the soldier jerks his head at the bailiff, and the prisoner looks hang-dog, outraged or exasperated. Coins change hands, and the prisoner scuttles away. (set: $interrogating to 1) (if: $pretendedsick is 0)[[[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): Pretend to be sick. ->sick]] ][[Wait. ->waitSoldiers]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2)Coughing and spluttering, you roll on the floor as if in the grips of convulsions. Your fellow prisoners edge away. The soldiers stare down at you in disgust. You crawl unsteadily toward the nearer one, giving a convincing impression that you are about to vomit on his shoes. Grimacing, he sidesteps. "I think this one's clear," he mutters. (if: $success is true)[(display: "runawaylatrines")](else:)[[[But his companion's eyes narrow suspiciously. He kicks you in the shoulder, hard. You double up with a yelp. "Faking!" he says, with grim satisfaction. Pulling roughly at your hair, he scowls at you. His eyes narrow. "The General will want to see her." (display: "nodDragAway")]]]

You emerge into a comfortable-looking, windowless parlor. A fire crackles merrily on the hearth. Behind a heavy oak desk sits Sir Raddibore Yellowtooth with a tumbler of cut crystal in his hand. A masked and hooded figure stands at his shoulder, arms crossed. Raddibore is dressed in chainmail, unshaven, and field deployment has not improved his odor. He pours some orange liqueur from a sparkling decanter into his glass, then takes a sip. Watching your expression, he smiles sharkishly. "So. It really *is* you," he murmurs. Out loud, he snaps to the guards: "Leave us!" "Tie her to the chair, and then remove the gag," he orders the masked person. Lamplight glints in blue eyes as the masked person obeys. Even their hands are covered by gloves of fine black leather. Too slender for an executioner or guard; a page, then? But why would a page wear a mask? [["Sir Raddibore, WHAT is the meaning of this?!" ->whatMeaning]] [["Sir Raddibore! Thank goodness you're here... I've been so scared." ->scared]]

You bolt into an alleyway, aiming only to lose yourself in the tangled paths, turning aside every time you hear voices or glimpse a lighted window. But for the most part, the encampment is quiet, dripping in the darkness. Soon, paws patter on the cobbles. The russet dog rejoins you, panting.(set: $rtPresent to 0) (display: "alley")

As the man struggles to rise, kicking at the russet dog, you snatch at his scabbard. He grabs your arm, still yelling, and levers himself to his feet, pushing you to the ground. Footsteps pound the earth behind you. Black-clad soldiers round the bend, and the hound darts away. They stand over you, eyes glittering. The guard steps back. "Ah... I'll just leave her to you, then." He sounds nervous. The soldiers nod to one another. Without a word, they pull you to your feet and drag you away into the dark. [[Continue. ->dontLookBack]]

You're led over to the black clad soldiers. Even up close, you cannot find any marks to indicate their employer. One turns to mutter something to the other. "State your business in Isholme, ma'am." (if: $pretendedsick is 0)[[[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): Pretend to be sick. ->sick2]] ][["Please, kind sirs! I've done nothing wrong, I swear... I'm just a simple wine merchant..." ->checkPrincess]]

"Peace, friend." The officer approaches, looking mildly concerned. "The girl is clearly insane, but we need not listen to her mad ravings. Send word to the General." Rummaging beneath his coat, he extracts a stinking rag and binds it tightly across your mouth. The bailiff gives you a long stare, then steps back and swigs from a bottle. Your captors pay you no further heed. You sink to the dirt floor, groaning, and glance around. People sit or lie on the floor; there is nothing to lean on. A merchant complains loudly to anyone who will listen; he's an important man, this is all a misunderstanding, he demands to speak to someone in charge. A beggar-woman, painfully thin, drones a lullaby to a squalling baby. But most are silent, their expressions exasperated or resigned. An hour or so later, the flap swings open, and two soldiers enter. These men are dressed in black, with no insignia. They speak quietly to the bailiff, who gestures at you. Without a word, they pull you to your feet and drag you away. [[Look back. ->lookBack]] [[Don't look back. ->dontLookBack]]

Footsteps tramp in the darkness ahead. A group of guards round the corner. Seeing you, they halt abruptly, brandishing weapons. There is nowhere to run. "On your knees!" barks the nearest. Though the words are Saragaian, his accent and insignia are of Thronheim. (set: $rtPresent to 1) [[Kneel. ->kneel]] [["I am Princess Seline of Thronheim. It is you who shall kneel, fool!" ->princess]]

He turns his amber eyes to you. "Because it relies upon me being able to find a certain person, who may be absent. And to reach that person, if he is to be found at all, we must pass through that." He gestures toward the encampment and the village beyond. [["Then we'll just have to sneak in. Let's go meet this chap." ->tryRiver]] [["Then we'll just have to bluff our way in. We'll wait until Morael transforms again, and he and I will go alone." ->waitForMorael]]

The russet dog leads you onwards. Soon the houses peter out, and the cobbled road fades to a muddy track, its verges eaten by grass. Dense clouds shroud the moon; you can see almost nothing, and dare not light a torch. You know that the great stone wall still towers to your right, yet in the dark, even its bulk seems insubstantial. Still the hound trots onwards ahead, circling back whenever you hesitate. Though you trust the dog's senses before your own, the sightless dark is oppressive. Nobody speaks, but even the soft clink of harness and thud of hooves sounds horribly loud. Hours later, something distant glimmers. In a few minutes, it becomes clear: a ripple of reflected torchlight on water. Faint voices drift across the slap and gurgle of the bay; soldiers whiling away the small hours of their watch with a game of cards or dice. The city wall towers to your left, running down to the sea. You follow the narrow strip of sand beyond its end, to the far point of the peninsula. Turning, you see the city harbor and several islands ensconced in a large bay. Lanterns hang by the harbor's edge, illuminating a variety of tethered watercraft bobbing in the current - small rowboats, skiffs and coracles, and flat-bottomed barges heavy with cargo. All are dwarfed by a mighty warship, painted red and gold with emerald sails. She sits low in the water, her cannons barely clearing the waves.

You clamber down into the shallow, icy water; it's thigh-deep, and you suppress a gasp at the tugging of the current. But when you regain your balance, you're below the sentries' line of sight, and the creek is loud enough to conceal your movement. After you've slogged through the chilly mud for a few minutes, Prince's head appears at the top of the bank. He woofs softly. You stagger out, half-frozen, and emerge into a narrow pathway leading between two dark tents. (display: "alley")

You give Prince a meaningful glance and gesture at the sentries. He puts his head on one side. "She wants you to distract them," hisses Tertia. He sighs. Then, with an elegant bound, he clears the bank and streaks past the sentries, upsetting their card table while barking furiously. The sentries jump up, swearing, and pursue the russet hound. You hurry onward, slipping soft as a shadow between tents. Prince rejoins you, panting. (set: $rtPresent to 1) (display: "alley")

You look around. Prince is nowhere to be seen; without his senses to guide you, the night seems darker than ever. Worse, (if: $rtPresent is 1)[neither Rain nor Tertia appear, and you have no idea where you are going](else:)[you have no idea where you are going]. Feet tramp ahead. You dart into a random alleyway and freeze; they pass. You hurry onward, down one random street after another. After half an hour, you are certain that you are going in circles. Still the russet dog is nowhere to be seen. Then you come upon the bodies. Two soldiers of Thronheim, sprawled beneath an archway. One rests in a pool of blood, the other's neck is unnaturally twisted. A pebble hits you in the shoulder. You look up. Nyora squats atop of the archway like a succubic gargoyle. She grins at you. "Hello, princess. Miss me?" [["Terribly. Nobody's tortured me in days." ->missedNyora]] [["Stay back, you fiend!" ->stayBackNy]]

Prince stares at you. He huffs. But you don't waver. (if: $rtPresent is 1)[Tertia shakes her head. "You go ahead, Seline. I think Rain and I had better stay out of the way. If your father's men see him, they're likely chop first and ask questions later. Besides, we can't move as quietly as you." You nod. She's right. The two of them vanish into the alley. ]The russet dog turns and trots out into the street. He approaches the nearer soldier, wagging his tail and grinning. The man bends to pet him. Prince whines. "Aww, hungry are you, boy?" The man fishes in his coat and drops something, which Prince eagerly consumes. He whines again. "Sorry, boy. That's all I've got." The man holds up his empty hands. "Filthy creatures. You'll catch fleas," says the other soldier. Prince turns to him, wagging even harder. The man backs away nervously, but he's soon up against the door. Prince snuffles at his coat pocket. "Ugh, get it away from me!" The other soldier merely laughs. "Come on, he just wants to play. Here, boy!" But Prince finally gets his nose into the pocket, and leaps away with a leather pouch between his teeth. "What! You cheeky mutt!" yelps the guard. Prince dances away, stopping just out of reach to lower his body in a playful bow. As the man snatches at him, he gives a joyous woof and bolts away. "Help me, dammit! That's my week's wages!" shouts the guard. The other guard reaches for Prince, but the russet hound slips between his legs and gallops off to the next house. The guards give chase; this time, Prince leads them around the corner. You creep toward the inn and flatten yourself against the wall by the lit window. The glass is thick and wavy, divided into chunky diamonds separated by dark wood, and beyond it the lace curtain shimmers. You can make out two figures in chairs, but everything beyond is a blur. However, the frame is warped with age. Voices carry from within. [[Listen. ->listenToRadTorveld]] [[Run. ->followPrinceToCity]]

Your first impression is that two old men are bickering. Then you gasp, for the voices are familiar. (set: $data's knowsPoison to 1)(set: $data's knowsShip to 1) "No, no, nothing like *that*. It will look perfectly natural, I assure you. Thanks to our eager young friend, the man has been at death's door for months. And I've already instructed him to exchange the wineskins." Sir Raddibore's tone is wheedling, placatory, but the grate of underlying irritation is sharp as fingernails on a blackboard. "And what of that ...monstrosity in the harbor? Didn't you s...say it would be dealt with?" The other voice quavers and stutters, as if the speaker can barely hold together the thread of thought. Most of all he sounds weary, like a corpse that resents its re-animation. For a moment, you feel certain that you know the man, but you cannot imagine who it can possibly be. Then realization crushes your heart. What can have befallen your father, to break him so? He sounds a decade older than when you left Stelgarte. Raddibore hisses with exasperation. "Your Majesty, there is no need to tire yourself with these details. Didn't I tell you of our involvement in her construction?" "Remind me." The King's tone is petulant. Raddibore explains patiently; you have the impression this is not the first time. "We had the head shipwright replaced early in her construction. Her boards are short, and her decks overloaded. Tomorrow, our longboats will lure the *Leviathan* out into the open sea, carrying half of Estevan's army. My engineers assure me she won't survive the slightest squall." "And then?" Now Torveld sounds avid, like a boy hearing his favorite bedtime story. "Her sinking will signal the final, crushing humiliation of the Saragaian nation. At that moment of your enemies' greatest despair, my contact shall open the gates of Isholme, and we shall put every one of them to the sword. Is that not your desire, Majesty? Is that not why we came here?" "My... desire?" For the first time, the King's voice regains some of its old force. "You idiot. You think that would suffice? To put them to the sword? They took my *daughter*, Raddibore. Raped and slaughtered her... I... every night I see her, her broken, used body. Her mother's locket still fastened around that bruised neck. Every day I think of nothing else. I tell you now, Raddibore, there is *no* amount of suffering that can assuage my rage. *That* is why we came here." "We all loved the Princess Seline, Majesty -" "*Loved* her! What would you know of love, you with your heart as shrivelled as a raisin!" Raddibore's tone is as patient as ever. "Be that as it may, your Majesty, I assure you, our plans are sound. Tomorrow shall come the most glorious victory of your reign, and you may take whatever vengeance you please upon her murderers. So be at peace, I beg you." The King merely grunts. Footsteps. A latch clicks. [[Run. ->runWindow]] [[Stay. ->stayWindow]]

The door opens, throwing lamplight on the street, but you are still in shadow. You freeze against the bricks. Sir Raddibore lurches past. He's dressed in chainmail, unshaven, and field deployment has not improved his odor. He passes so close you can smell the liqueur on his breath, but his head is bowed, and he pays little attention to his surroundings. You wait, hardly daring to breathe, until his footsteps fade into the dark. [[Look in the window again. ->lookWindowAgain]] [[Leave. ->followPrinceToCity]]

Now you recognize the emaciated figure slumped in the armchair by the fire. The King's head is in his arms, and faint, animal-like sounds emanate. You creep closer, almost pressing your nose to the glass. He's weeping. Sobbing uncontrollably, twisting his robe between knotted hands, pausing only to wipe his nose upon his sleeve or hammer his hand upon his knees and moan. He must be alone. Your father would never allow anyone to see him like this. [[Tap on the glass. ->tapGlass]] [[Leave. ->followPrinceToCity]]

You raise one hand, and gently rap upon the glass. He doesn't look up. Harder. (set: $data's toldT to 1) Now he raises red-rimmed eyes toward the window. He frowns. He looks puzzled, annoyed. He stands up, leaning heavily upon his cane, and plods to the window. Inches away, he stares at you. His face grows pale, his eyes wide. He staggers. His voice is barely a whisper. "S...Seline?" [["Father, it's me! I've returned!" ->iveReturnedWindow]] [["Father, I'm alive! Raddibore deceived you!" ->aliveWindow]]

He draws a deep, shaky breath. "Get thee gone, foul spirit of the grave! How dare you sully my daughter's image with your ungodly presence!" [["Father, I'm alive! Raddibore deceived you!" ->aliveWindow]] [["What do you mean, foul? If I'm Seline's spirit, how can I sully her image? Wait, are you saying you didn't like my spirit, only my image? Gee, Dad..." ->mean]]

"You... it can't be! Seline?" His face is sheet-white; you fear he will topple over. Slowly, the color creeps back, and he straightens, still breathing deeply. "Well, whatever you are, lying revenant or wight, or truly her - you wear my daughter's face. I will not waste the chance to embrace you once more... even if you come only to call me to the land of the dead, Seline." He flings the shutters wide. [[Embrace him. ->embraceKing]] [[Run. ->leaveKing]]

He stands frozen, as if his reality is broken and he cannot move until it snaps together. Suddenly he shakes his head, and gives a short laugh. "It *is* you. Nobody but Seline would speak thus. And I don't care what manner of undead you are - wight or vampire, revenant or daemon - you are my daughter, and I will embrace you!" He flings the shutters wide. [[Embrace him. ->embraceKing]] [[Run. ->leaveKing]]

The old King wraps his arms around you. His scent is comforting and dry, like aged wood. (set: $torchat to 1) "You're warm," he breathes, his voice full of wonder. "You're warm!" His frail body shakes with helpless sobbing. [["Of course I'm warm. I'm *alive*, Dad." ->warmAlive]] [["Quick! Let me inside before anyone sees me!" ->insideWithKing]]

"Please, come back... Seline, come back, I beg you. Daughter, please... Don't leave me again. Seline!" Then his tone changes to a snap of urgent command. But you're already running. As his cries fade, footsteps pound the pavement before you. "Hey! Where are you going?" demands a burly soldier of Thronheim, blocking your way. You hesitate. From behind comes the clatter of boots. Over your shoulder, you glimpse the King's guard dashing toward you. "Arrest that girl!" You're trapped. You try to dart between them, but they lunge at you; a hand closes upon your shoulder, throwing you down upon the wet cobbles. They march you back and deposit you upon a chair in the King's chamber. "Out!" he barks at them furiously. But when he turns to you, his withered cheeks are wet with tears. "Seline... you're here. You're real! Alive... But how? Wh... why did you run from me?" [["I was afraid you wouldn't believe me. Raddibore lied to you, Father. He betrayed you, telling you I was dead." ->radLied]] [["Oh, Father! I can't believe I've found you at last. I've been so scared!" ->soScared]]

"I... it's just... you were dead. I saw your body, Seline!" [["Well, it wasn't my body, clearly. Raddibore deceived you!" ->radDeceivedKing]] [["Quick! Let me inside before anyone sees me!" ->insideWithKing]]

He steps back, and you clamber easily inside. At once, he embraces you again, holding you against his chest for what seems like hours. His tears trickle through your hair. "Seline," he sighs at last, wiping his eyes. "Seline... my one and only daughter. This is a miracle... beyond a miracle." [["Well, not really. I mean, it's not like I was ever actually dead. Raddibore lied to you, Father." ->radLied]] [["Oh, Father! I can't believe I've found you at last. I've been so scared!" ->soScared]]

He shakes his head as if it's full of butterflies. "Here, you'd better come in. You'll catch your death out there." [["Quite possibly." ->insideWithKing]] [["Sorry, I can't now. I have to go see a man about a dog." ->seeManDog]]

"Oh, no you don't!" His arms tighten around you, and his voice now holds all the authority of parental will. You should throw him off, but you're frozen. A moment too long. "Guards!" he yells. Two men charge out of the building. You rip your hands free and bolt, but you've too little headstart, and your mind is clouded with Torveld's emotion. A gauntlet snatches at your hair, and you're thrown to the ground, barely hearing the King's frantic cry: "Don't hurt her!" They haul you inside, shove you in a chair and leave you with the King. "I'm so sorry," he mutters. "But I could not bear to lose you again, you understand? This is no place for a girl." [["Dad, I've been in far worse places, and I'm fine. Now, will you please let me go?" ->pleaseDad]] [[Just glare at him. ->glareAtDad]]

"You call *this* fine?" He gestures at your form, and you suddenly see yourself as he does: dripping, mud-stained and dressed as a peasant. Perhaps you should have done more to groom yourself over the last week than run your fingers through your hair and knot it with a shoelace. (if: $creek is 1)["Seline, you have *leeches* on your ankles!" You glance down. It's true. Only five or six of them, and they're quite small.] Scowling, Torveld continues: "No, I will not. In fact, I'm not letting you out of my sight until Isholme is captured!" [["Captured? But Dad, didn't you attack Saragai in order to avenge my death? And I'm not dead, so..." ->notDeadSo]] (if: $creek is 1)[[["Yes. I am fine. I've learned to ride a horse and use a sword. I've fought off monsters, talked my way out of a kidnapping, arranged a prison break, found a lost prince, and escaped an evil sorcerer. All in under two weeks. And you expect me to get upset about a few little leeches?" ->littleLeeches]]](else:)[[["Yes. I am fine. I've learned to ride a horse and use a sword. I've fought off monsters, talked my way out of a kidnapping, arranged a prison break, found a lost prince, and escaped an evil sorcerer. All in under two weeks. And you're upset about a little mud?" ->littleLeeches]]]

"Don't you look at me like that! You know I'm only doing what's best for you." He shakes his head. "Have you learned nothing from all you've suffered? Ah, it hurts to think of it... When I catch that foul kidnapper Rain, you'll see him hang in Saragai's main square." [["But Father! Rain didn't kidnap me. He tried to rescue me... he's my best friend. You can't punish him!" ->bestFriendRain]]

"So... what? You expect me to turn around and go home now, on the brink of victory? Besides, I *always* intended to return to Saragai. Just not this soon." Your expression makes him snort. "Gods, I'd forgotten how infuriating you can be." He stares into the flames, rubbing his knuckles together. "You never understand, do you? Everything I do, Seline, everything is for you. I dreamed this land would be your wedding gift. And then... then it was to be your funeral pyre..." [["I don't want this land! And I don't need a pyre!" ->noPyre]] [["Father, I appreciate that you want to do nice things for me. But the heirs of Saragai are my friends. Stealing their land doesn't make me happy." ->appreciateFather]]

"Don't talk back to me, young lady!" (display: "softenTorveld")

His eyes narrow. "*Heirs* plural, huh? I see we have a lot of catching up to do." (display: "softenTorveld")

"Your *friend*?" Torveld sneers. "Is that what you call it?" (if: $data's marryR is 1)[[["Father, Rain and I are engaged to be married. And nothing you can say will stop us!" ->cantStopUs]] ][["Yes! Why is that so hard to believe? Can't you see you're just being prejudiced?" ->prejudiced]]

King Torveld shakes his head decisively. "No. Sir Raddibore made a mistake, obviously... he was deceived somehow. But he would not lie to me!" [["He's a traitor! I don't know what he intends, father, but he knew I wasn't dead, and he lied to provoke you into attacking Saragai!" ->radTraitor]] [["Perhaps you're right... I did lose my locket. Maybe the person who stole it from me was killed and disfigured, and he thought it was me!" ->maybeNotTraitor]]

"Seline... think of what you are suggesting. Sir Raddibore is one of my oldest counsellors. I have even thought at times that you and he might - I know, I know, you need not look at me thus, but when you are older and wiser, you will appreciate having a husband of statecraft and maturity to lead our nation." [["I know exactly what I am suggesting, Father. How do you think my locket came to be on the neck of that murdered girl? It was stolen from me in Sir Raddibore's hall!" ->locketStolen]] [["Are you even listening to me? He faked my death to manipulate you into invading Saragai! If that's not treachery, I don't know what is!" ->fakedDeath]]

King Torveld frowns. Then he reaches for you once more, wiping away a tear. "My daughter. You must tell me everything that's befallen you, from the moment Rain kidnapped you. The ingratitude of that wretched boy. I swear, Seline, he shall pay with his life for mistreating you thus!" [["But Father! Rain didn't kidnap me. He tried to rescue me... he's my best friend. You can't punish him!" ->bestFriendRain]] [["It's a long story, Dad..." ->longStory]]

"Then I shall send for refreshments." King Torveld rings a silvery bell. A guard appears in the doorway and stares at you. "Stop gawking! And fetch dry clothing, a glass of wine, a hot platter, and a bath for the lady. And one other thing. Mention the lady's presence to anyone, and I'll string you by the balls from Isholme's highest tower." The guard pivots with alacrity; you fleetingly confront a discomfiting intuition that such instructions are not unusual for him. The King turns back to you. "So. From the beginning. You had been confined to your bedroom, when..." [["A muscular warrior with fascinating scars broke into my room and kidnapped me. He carried me off into the woods, saved me from being eaten by mutated wolf-monsters and murdered by his psychotic ex, and explained that actually, he was a bandit hero protecting the people of Thronheim. Then he helped me get to Greyshard to rescue Rain." ->hotAndreas]] [["I was kidnapped by a bandit. Rain tried to rescue me, but instead he was captured by Sir Raddibore. I persuaded the kidnapper to let me go to Greyshard and tell Raddibore the truth about Rain, but he wouldn't listen!" ->toldRad]] [["I was kidnapped by Sir Raddibore's men. He planned to murder me and frame Rain from the beginning, just to provoke you into attacking Saragai! Fortunately, I escaped - but then I had to go to Greyshard to free Rain." ->frameRad]]

For a moment, his eyes grow cold and narrow. "Is that so, daughter? Then I shall not try to dissuade you." (display: "softenTorveld")

His mouth turns downward and his nostrils flare, as if your words evoke genuine disgust. "Do not speak to me thus, daughter!" (display: "softenTorveld")

"In Sir Raddibore's hall?" Torveld looks puzzled. "When was that?" [["It's a long story, Dad..." ->longStory]] [["When I went there to rescue Rain." ->rescueRain]]

"Now, now. How can you be so certain it wasn't an honest mistake?" [["Because I know him. Dad, I know you still see me as a child but please, give me some credit. Raddibore lies and manipulates everyone. He hasn't an honest bone in his body." ->dishonestRad]] [["Perhaps you're right... I did lose my locket. Maybe the person who stole it from me was killed and disfigured, and he thought it was me!" ->maybeNotTraitor]] [["How do you think my locket came to be on the neck of that murdered girl? It was stolen from me in Sir Raddibore's hall!" ->locketStolen]]

Torveld shakes his head. "I don't know why you insist on seeing the worst in everyone, Seline. It's an unsavory trait in a young lady." [["Perhaps you're right... I did lose my locket. Maybe the person who stole it from me was killed and disfigured, and he thought it was me!" ->maybeNotTraitor]] [["How do you think my locket came to be on the neck of that murdered girl? It was stolen from me in Sir Raddibore's hall!" ->locketStolen]]

Then his expression softens. "Don't pout, my darling. Smile for me. Please?" [[(set: $difficulty to 20)(set: $skill_name to "Charm")(display: "makeDice"): Smile. ->smileTorveld]] [[Glare. ->glareTorveld]]

Torveld raises his eyebrows. "I think you'd better start at the beginning." (display: "softenTorveld")

"To *rescue* Rain? That wretched ingrate who kidnapped you? I swear, Seline, he shall pay with his life for mistreating you thus!" [["But Father! Rain didn't kidnap me. He tried to rescue me... he's my best friend. You can't punish him!" ->bestFriendRain]] [["Whoa. Boy, have you got the wrong end of the stick."->wrongStick]]

"What do you mean?" [["Rain didn't kidnap me. He tried to rescue me... he's my best friend. You can't punish him!" ->bestFriendRain]] [["It's a long story, Dad..." ->longStory]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's charm to it + 2) (if: $success is false)[Your lips feel like rubber, your teeth inadvertently clench. Torveld winces.](else:)[Seething inside, you force your surface to mirror his desires. What joy, to be safely back with your loving father! You gaze at him wide-eyed, a perfect simulacra of submissive gratitude. "That's better," he acknowledges. "Why can't you always look like that?" He pauses, gazing at you with frank hurt in his eyes.] (display: "youDontKnow")

Torveld sighs. "You always were a sullen, stubborn brat." He hurls his glass into the fireplace. It shatters, tinkling. (display: "youDontKnow")

"You don't know what it was like, without you. My world was dead. Wine could not wet my throat, my food was dust and ashes, and the sun shone everywhere but nothing warmed me." He pokes at the fire. "Tell me everything," he commands. [["It's a long story..." ->longStory]] [["Dad, I'm sorry, but there's no time. You have to believe me! Raddibore's your true enemy! You've got to stop him. It was his men who kidnapped me! He must have planned to murder me and frame Rain from the beginning. All just to provoke you into attacking Saragai." ->frameRad]]

Your father looks uncomfortable. "I see," he observes, coolly. "Pray continue." [["At Greyshard Sir Raddibore imprisoned us and pressured me to marry him! We escaped from the dungeon, but Rain and I were kidnapped by the ex-girlfriend of the scarred bandit and our boat sank. We were rescued by a snake and escaped into the Twisted Forest, but Rain was almost eaten by a tree. That was how we discovered that a dog who had been following us was actually Prince Morael of Saragai!" ->fullStory]] [["At Greyshard, Sir Raddibore imprisoned us and pressured me to marry him! Long story short, we escaped and after various delays, we made our way here." ->dryVersion]]

Your father frowns. "I cannot fault Sir Raddibore for giving little credence to such a tale. Why did the bandit set you free?" [["He knew that executing Rain would trigger a war with Saragai." ->avoidWar]] [["He liked me." ->likedMe]]

As you speak, Torveld's expression grows dark. "I still find this difficult to credit. But you know the consequence of such accusations. Surely you would not be so callous as to make them falsely." A light knock interrupts the King; the guard arrives with refreshments. Scents of fresh-baked bread and red Saragaian wine dance in your nostrils, but Torveld's stern look demands an answer. "I can only ask, are you entirely certain of what you say, child?" [["Absolutely, Father." ->shortFrame]] [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): Burst into tears. ->lie]]

Torveld snorts. "A kidnapper with a conscience! That'll be the day! Pray, continue." [["At Greyshard, Sir Raddibore tried to imprison us and force me to marry him! Long story short, we escaped from the dungeon and after various delays, we made our way here." ->dryVersion]] [["At Greyshard Sir Raddibore tried to imprison us and force me to marry him! We escaped from the dungeon, but Rain and I were kidnapped by the ex-girlfriend of the bandit and our boat sank. We were rescued by a snake and escaped into the Twisted Forest, but Rain was almost eaten by a tree. That was how we discovered that a dog who had been following us was actually Prince Morael of Saragai!" ->fullStory]]

Torveld snorts. "How... romantic. Pray, continue." [["At Greyshard, Sir Raddibore tried to imprison us and force me to marry him! Long story short, we escaped from the dungeon and after various delays, we made our way here." ->dryVersion]] [["At Greyshard Sir Raddibore tried to imprison us and force me to marry him! We escaped from the dungeon, but Rain and I were kidnapped by the ex-girlfriend of the bandit and our boat sank. We were rescued by a snake and escaped into the Twisted Forest, but Rain was almost eaten by a tree. That was how we discovered that a dog who had been following us was actually Prince Morael of Saragai!" ->fullStory]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[As you speak, you watch Torveld's face twist, as if stormclouds move beneath the surface. A growl builds like thunder in his throat. He holds up his hand: "Enough! I believe you, daughter. And you must believe me, he shall pay. For every minute of your suffering, I'll take an hour. For every insult I'll take blood, for every bruise, skin... and for the violation of your womanhood, his manhood shall be forfeit. Fear not! not until he has paid in full shall I grant him the traitor's respite - a noose around his filthy neck." (set: $torConvinced to 1) Torveld stands. "One moment," he says, speaking softly now. "I have an idea, but arrangements must be made at once. If you need anything, the guard outside will help you." He stamps out of the room. [[Climb out the window. ->leaveWindowAfterTalking]] [[Wait for him to return. ->waitForKing]]](else:)[(display: "dryFrame")]

Minutes later, Torveld returns. His eyes glitter with satisfaction. "The trap is laid, my dear. Vengeance shall soon be yours. Now, as for ourselves... I think we should retire for the night. You are clearly exhausted, and we shall have all the time in the world to talk after the conquest of Saragai is complete." [["Conquest! But Dad, you don't understand! You have to stop this senseless war!" ->stopWar]] [["Father, please! There's no need for this violence to continue... Saragai and Thronheim can live in peace. The princes of Saragai are my friends!" ->princesFriends]]

Your father's frown deepens. "You are as fanciful a liar as ever, *daughter*." [["But it's the truth, I swear! Why can't you just believe me?" ->truth]] [[(set: $difficulty to 10)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "I... I'm sorry, Dad. I guess I just didn't want to have to... to relive it. What really happened... Oh, Father! It was a nightmare!" ->lie]]

"Enough, Seline. I am glad you are here... more glad than I can say." He pauses. His eyes grow cold and distant; he seems to stare past you. "And I am sorry that you have learned no wisdom in our time apart." (display: "trappedByTor")

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) You bury your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, emitting loud sobs. (if: $success is true)["Oh, Seline!" You feel your father's arms wrap you, warm and comforting. "There, there... you're safe now. And whoever did this to you... I promise you, Seline, they will pay a thousand fold!" [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "The kidnappers hid their insignia at first, but when we were out in the Forest... oh, Father, I cannot speak of it... The things they did! They wore the golden rutabaga openly, they joked at how pleased Sir Raddibore would be with their work...ugh! It makes my head spin, to think how he has used us! I cannot think of it without wanting to vomit!" ->vividFrame]] [["I told you, Father, it was Yellowtooth's men! You have to punish him!" ->dryFrame]]](else:)["Oh, save the waterworks!" sneers your father. You dare a peek at him between your fingers. A mistake. His eyes narrow. (display: "dryFrame")]

radchat -> morael -> torchat -> estchat -> square ->Isholme saved -> fail: Isholme falls -> imprisoned with Nyora, Isholme falls -> escape with princes +/- Tor -> stay with Tor -> estchat -> square ->Isholme saved -> fail: Isholme falls torchat -> morael -> torchat -> estchat -> square ->Isholme saved -> fail: Isholme falls -> imprisoned with Nyora, Isholme falls -> escape with princes +/- Tor -> stay with Tor -> estchat -> square ->Isholme saved -> fail: Isholme falls nochat -> morael -> estchat -> square ->Isholme falls -> escape with princes +/- Tor -> stay with Tor Key variables: - Seline knows Rad's plans? Yes - she may save Isholme. No - Ishome falls. - Seline convinces Est about Rad's plans? Yes - she saves Isholme. No - Isholme falls. - Torveld convinced that Rad is a traitor? Yes - he executes Rad. No - if Isholme falls Rad deposes him & Seline may rescue him while fleeing. - Seline tells Torveld about Nyora? Yes - he imprisons them both. No - Nyora frees Seline. Endings (1) Isholme falls. (1a) If she has not convinced Torveld of Raddibore's treachery, Raddibore will then depose Torveld. Seline flees with Nyora and the Princes of Saragai (and perhaps Torveld, who is otherwise killed). (1b) Otherwise, Torveld plans to execute the Princes; Seline can join Andreas in freeing them, and flee with them, or (1c) remain as Crown Princess and inherit both lands. (2) Isholme stands. Seline helps Torveld and Estevan negotiate a treaty. She may wed one of the Princes.

Torveld shakes his head. "Once again, you try to cast blame upon Sir Raddibore. Why do you allow your spite to dominate you so? This will not do, Seline!" [["But it's the truth, I swear! Why can't you just believe me?" ->truth]] [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "I... I'm sorry, Dad. I guess I just didn't want to have to... to relive it. What really happened... Oh, Father! It was a nightmare!" ->lie]]

(display: "followPrinceToCity")

His eyes narrow. "Is that so? Have you nothing more to say?" [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "I... Dad... I guess I just didn't want to have to... to relive it. What really happened... Oh, Father! It was a nightmare!" ->lie]] [["Yes, Father. That's what happened." ->dryVersion]] [["Isn't that enough? Yellowtooth kidnapped me, father! He plotted to murder me!" ->dryVersion]]

Your father hesitates. Then he reaches under your chin and gently pulls your face up to meet his eyes. You struggle not to flinch, but he knows you well. You feel like a bug under the microscope... and you are all too aware that your eyes are dry. (display: "truth")

You awaken to utter silence and darkness, and it takes you half a minute to realize why this is strange. Your heart pounds. A hand slides across your mouth. You writhe away, but the arm tightens around your throat, and you are pulled backwards against someone's knees, your wrists trapped behind your back. Then you feel teeth nick the back of your neck. "I did promise you *another time*, didn't I?" The voice is sweet, light and lovely as a wine-glass resonating. Nyora's nails dig deep into your skin. Your reply is muffled by her hand. She laughs. "Don't scream, Highness. Follow me, if you wish to prevent the destruction of Saragai. And hurry. It will not be long before Torveld returns." [[Follow. ->follow]]

You clamber up. Lamplight reveals two guards sprawled in a narrow hallway. One rests in a pool of blood, the other's neck is unnatually twisted. As you dash toward the stairs, someone shouts. Footsteps pound behind you. (display: "fight")

He snorts. "I *have* to? Remind me, which of us is monarch here, Seline?" The question makes you flinch. You've had years of training in responding to this. You know exactly what's expected. You take a deep breath, and meet his eyes. [["You, father." ->youDaKing]] [["For now, or for the future? I intend to make peace with Saragai, Father. You know we cannot hold this nation without the goodwill of its people. I have secured the friendship of its heirs, and we have found a mutually beneficial path to unity. Will you sabotage everything I've worked for? Just to satisfy your lust for vengeance?" ->sabotage]]

His eyes narrow. "The *princes*, huh? Prince Rain *and* Prince Morael?" [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Uh, I meant Prince Rain, of course. I don't know Morael personally, but he has a great reputation. I'm sure he would want peace. But he's probably dead, of course." ->liePrinces]] [["Yes. Both of them. Morael saved my life, Father! Would you repay that by destroying his home and family?" ->repayMorael]]

(display: "dice") (set: $data's deceive to it + 2) "Oh, really?" Torveld's look makes you squirm inside; the suspicion you've awakened aligns too neatly with his fatherly anxiety. (if: $success is true)[But either you convinced him, or he has bigger fish to fry.](else:)["Something tells me you're lying again. And worse, doing it badly. But the greater problem is, if you're lying, then you *did* somehow meet Morael, which means he's alive. How vexing!"] He shrugs. "Well. Be that as it may, daughter, it's clear there are many things upon which we still do not agree. And I've neither the time nor inclination to debate them with you. So I shall bid you good night." (display: "trappedByTor")

"So he's your *friend* as well, now?" Torveld sneers. (set: $data's likesM to it + 1) He watches your reaction closely. "Huh. And these friends of yours... are they nearby? Did you bring them to Isholme?" [["Yes, father. They are here. And I will not permit you to destroy their lives!" ->notPermit]] [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Do I look like a fool? They are safely hidden. You'll never find them, Father!" ->notPermit]]

(display: "dice") (if: $success is true)["Never, you say? I'll overturn every pebble in Saragai if I must." Torveld closes his eyes; when he opens them again, the malice has faded, replaced by vacuity, as if he's lost the thread of the conversation.](else:)["Is that so?" Torveld's tone drips with icy amusement.] "Thank you, daughter. I believe that will be all." (display: "trappedByTor")

"Good girl," he says. (display: "trappedByTor")

Though your heart pounds, you keep your breathing calm and hold your father's gaze. You mean every word, and you want him to know it. He waits for you to finish. His eyes narrow. He smiles slightly. "A pretty speech. But what interests me is your reference to the *heirs* of Saragai. Plural." [[(set: $difficulty to 7)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Uh, I meant Prince Rain, of course. I don't know Morael personally, but he has a great reputation. I'm sure he would want peace. But he's probably dead, of course." ->liePrinces]] [["Yes. Both of them. Morael saved my life, Father! Would you repay that by destroying his home and family?" ->repayMorael]]

Wearily, he climbs to his feet and hobbles toward the entrance. "Guards!" he snaps. "Escort the lady to the lower chamber. The *secure* one. Watch her at all times." You are led out into the hall, down a staircase to a narrower hall, then down a ladder, into a small room. It is comfortably appointed, with plush chairs and a bed. You listen to your father's footsteps retreat on the floorboards above. He does not return. The room has no windows at all; the only entrance is the trapdoor in the ceiling. A single lantern dangles from the ceiling, separated from you by an iron grate that casts a grid of shadow upon the cell floor. All is quiet. You can hear the wheezing breath of the guard, punctuated by occasional snuffles and nose-blowing. You strip off your still-damp clothes and curl yourself under the blankets, too exhausted to reflect on the impossibility of escape. In a moment, you sink into oblivion. [[Awaken. ->awakenNyora]]

King Torveld clasps you against his robes. "Oh, Seline. You are safe now, thank the gods!" He wipes away a tear, gazing at you earnestly. "My daughter. You must tell me everything that's befallen you, from the moment Rain kidnapped you. The ingratitude of that wretched boy. I swear, Seline, he shall pay with his life for mistreating you thus!" [["But Father! Rain didn't kidnap me. He tried to rescue me... he's my best friend. You can't punish him!" ->bestFriendRain]] [["It's a long story, Dad..." ->longStory]]

You hesitate. Something about those soldiers is familiar. Then you shake your head, and follow Prince. But as you turn into the alleyway, a door creaks open ahead, spilling yellow light. You slip back into the shadows and drop to a crouch behind a row of odiferous garbage bins. "Whaaat? An imperzzonator?" The soldier's voice is slurred with wine, and it takes you a moment to decipher the words. He halts in the doorway, peering out into the rain. "I don't write the orders, Private. I just make sure they're carried out." The officer behind sounds weary. "It's just... sir, that don't make no sense. I mean, no disrespect to the dead, but why'd anyone imperzzonate *'er*? 'Afta be crazy, like." "Our enemies *are* crazy, Private, or they wouldn't be our enemies. Any sane person would welcome the liberation of Isholme." "Wid all do respect, sir, that's 'orseshit. We're 'ere to avenge 'er death at the hands of them filthy Saragaian dogs, an' everybody knows it." "Private, it's unwise to call the General's words 'orseshit. I suggest you learn to still your tongue, or you may lose it." "Eh, that's another thing... since when does Yellowtooth give orders to the palace guard? Far as I recall, I swore my oath to Torveld's line." "Enough, Private! Ours is not to question, but to serve." The yellow light winks out. The men's boots clatter along the alleyway, far too slowly for your taste. They pass a few feet from you, but do not even glance your way. You wait a few minutes, then hurry in the direction you think Prince took. (display: "followPrinceToCity")

"I shall have to correct that. But unfortunately, not today. (display: "hesitateNy")

She snorts. "Oh, for goodness sake. Don't be an idiot. (display: "hesitateNy")

Those were Raddibore's guards. This place is swarming with them. And you've been bumbling around like a blind rabbit for the last half hour. If Raddibore learns you're here, he'll have you killed on sight. (if: $torConvinced is 0)[He's convinced Torveld that Rain murdered you. ]So I suggest you follow me now." You hesitate. Nyora leaps lightly to the ground, tugging at your arm with slender white fingers. "Up!" A narrow staircase winds skyward. But at that moment, footsteps clatter on the cobbles behind you. (display: "fight")

Hastily, you slip into a dark alleyway and wait behind a row of odiferous garbage bins. Sir Raddibore lurches past the mouth of the alley. He's dressed in chainmail, unshaven. You shrink into the shadows, but his head is bowed, and he pays little attention to his surroundings. Soon, his footsteps fade. Silence. (display: "followPrinceToCity")

------ (display: "skills") <script>window.StrayHeirs.createChapter(16)</script>(print: "<a href=\"ch16.html\">Chapter 16</a>")

Yesterday, you crossed the border out of Thronheim along a wild path known only to condors and Morael. Skirting jagged peaks, you've seen nobody but a lonely goatherd in days. But from here, your road descends to the Saragaian plains. Rain and Tertia have ridden ahead, deep in conversation. You nudge Blueberry with your heels; he breaks into a trot, and Morael follows. After days of aching, your muscles are finally starting to harden, and the horse senses your thoughts with barely a gesture needed. It seems inconceivable that a week ago you could barely climb onto his back alone. Far below, something glints between the clouds. A dropped earring? No, it's a domed rooftop, glinting golden in the morning sun. You realize the greyish shapes surrounding it are other buildings, tall and graceful; then, as the clouds move on, a city is unveiled, its countless white towers and spires roofed in terracotta, set upon jewel-green islands in a wide azure rivermouth. You catch your breath. The gold-domed building at its heart rises from a citadel set upon a large island at the heart of the bay. Arched bridges connect the citadel to the mainland and other islands; on the mainland, the city sprawls outwards to meet the sea, encircled by a high wall. A gigantic warship with emerald sails sits in the harbor, dwarfing other boats. Morael's eyes follow yours, almost glowing with emotion. "That is Isholme, capital of Saragai. Do you like it, Seline?" [["It's beautiful!" ->amazingCity]] [["What's that huge ship?" ->hugeShip]]

Suspecting, based on Nurse's tales, that royal blood was the relevant factor, you also had him lick Rain and Andreas. And, on the off chance that the key was simply female saliva, Tertia. None of those had the desired effect, though he did report a mild headache. You also tried giving him a vial of saliva to sip, but it became ineffective after a few minutes. Apparently whatever biomarker the spell uses deteriotes rapidly once extracted. Based on these experiments, you infer that the spell is bound to an unstable molecular target encoded by a gene variant highly specific to the royal line of Thronheim. Yay science!

"Of course." Though his tone is friendly, you sense a wall go up. [["There's something you should know..." ->somethingYouShouldKnow]] [["It's about what the sorcerer did." ->sorcererTold]]

"More than one thing, I fear." His smile is wry. (display: "rainStops")

He sighs. "You do not have to speak of it, Seline..." (display: "rainStops")

Correct inconsistencies in party presence. When do Rain & Tertia disappear? When is Morael a dog? When do you have horses?

You're all dozing when hooves clatter outside, the russet dog barks, and the door bursts open. It's dark outside. You leap to your feet, but guards are already swarming into the room, and you realize you are badly outnumbered. "Hands in the air! Drop your weapons!" barks a uniformed officer wearing the insignia of Thronheim. (set: $rtPresent to 1) [[Obey. ->dropWeapons]] [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Fight")(display: "makeDice"): Fight. ->fightGuards]]

Before you can reply, hoofbeats clatter ahead. "Seline!" calls Rain. He pulls his horse back to amble beside yours. Morael dismounts, and hands the reins to his brother. "Forgive me, Highness. My other form calls to me, and I think it best I scout the path ahead." (display: "downToPlains")

"Oh. You're pulling my leg, aren't you?" He blushes. "I guess I deserved that. It's been so long since I had a - a normal conversation, I've almost forgotten how." After a few moments, he asks: (display: "homeSpecial")

There's no time to debate strategy; Nyora takes on one, while the other charges toward you, grinning as he draws his sword. [[Parry. ->parry]] [[Dodge. ->dodge]]

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{ (if: $recap is 1)[*After escaping Caer Goroduin, Seline and her friends spent the evening at a country inn. They planned to travel to Isholme, the capital of Saragai. To maintain unity, Morael agreed to lead his people even though the spell remains unbroken. (if: $data's danceM is 1)[Seline and Morael danced together.] Late in the night, Andreas left. His pretext was that he must travel quickly to warn King Estevan of treachery, but Seline sensed that inner turmoil lay behind his sudden departure. (if: $data's gotRing is 1)[He left her his mother's ring.]* (display: "skills") -----] (else:)[ (link: "Show recap")[ (set: $recap to 1) (replace: ?recap)[(display: "recap")] ] ] }

(if: $skill_name is "Deceive")[(set: $ability to $data's deceive/10)](elseif: $skill_name is "Fight")[(set: $ability to $data's fight/10)](elseif: $skill_name is "Charm")[(set: $ability to $data's charm/10)](elseif: $skill_name is "Will")[(set: $ability to $data's will/10)](elseif: $skill_name is "Persuade")[(set: $ability to $data's persuade/10)](else:)[Error: unknown skill] $skill_name (Skill $ability)

(set: $show_roll_details to 0)(set: $roll to $randarray's ($array_position))(set: $array_position to it + 1)(set: $total to (num: ($ability + $roll).toFixed(1)))(set: $difficulty to (num:($difficulty.toFixed(1))))(set: $recorded_difficulty to $difficulty)(set: $recorded_ability to $ability)(set: $recorded_skill_name to $skill_name)(if: $roll is 20)[(set: $success to true)Success!](elseif: $roll is 1)[(set: $success to false)Failure :(](elseif: $total >= $difficulty)[(set: $success to true)Success!](else:)[(set: $success to false)Failure :(] |roll_details>[(display: "Roll_details")]

{ (if: $show_roll_details is 1)[$recorded_skill_name: (print: ($recorded_ability).toFixed(1)) | Difficulty: (print: ($recorded_difficulty).toFixed(1)) | Roll: $roll | (if: $roll is 20)[Natural 20 = Automatic success](elseif: $roll is 1)[Natural 1 = Automatic failure](else:)[Total = (print: ($recorded_ability).toFixed(1)) + $roll = (print: ($total).toFixed(1)) | (print: ($total).toFixed(1))(if: $success is true)[ >= ](else:)[ < ](print: ($recorded_difficulty).toFixed(1))]] (else:)[ (link: "Show roll details?")[(set: $show_roll_details to 1) (replace: ?roll_details)[(display: "Roll_details")] ] ] }

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(set: $canundo to false) ###Info & Settings * **Undo**: Use the link at the bottom. Don't use your browser's back button. To change a choice in an earlier chapter, you need to redo that chapter *and* any subsequent ones. * **Skills**: Some choices can succeed or fail. You succeed if your skill + a D20 roll exceeds the difficulty of the choice, with automatic success/failure on a roll of 20/1 respectively. Skills increase with use. * **Relationships**: Relationships can affect the difficulty of skill-based choices. * **Endings**: The story has up to 20 chapters and a variety of endings. All major endings remain accessible until Chapter 16, after which the story diverges. ####Your data * **Storage**: Local storage is used only to transfer data between chapters. If you change browsers or delete your browser history you will start over. * **Privacy**: No personal data returns to the server. ####Settings * **Content**: Sex scenes are |button>[(display: "Button")] * **Display**: |modeButton>[(display: "DarkModeButton")] * **Font**: |fontButton>[(display: "FontSizeButtons")] (print: "<a href=\"../index.html\">Go to Contents Page</a>")(set: $settings to StrayHeirs["settings"])<script>window.StrayHeirs.applyStyle();</script> ------ (if: $settings's darkmode is 1)[(link-undo:'<img alt="Undo" src="arrow3.png"/>')](else:)[(link-undo:'<img alt="Undo" src="arrow3dark.png"/>')]

(set: $data to StrayHeirs["datastore"])(set: $settings to StrayHeirs["settings"])(set: $canundo to false)(set: $array_position to 1)(set: $randarray to (a:(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20),(random: 1,20)))<script>window.StrayHeirs.applyStyle();</script>

<p style="color:red">Skills: Deceive (print: ($data's deceive/10).toFixed(1)) | Persuade (print: ($data's persuade/10).toFixed(1)) | Charm (print: ($data's charm/10).toFixed(1)) | Will (print: ($data's will/10).toFixed(1)) | Fight (print: ($data's fight/10).toFixed(1)) </p style><p style="color:red">Relationships: Tertia (print: ($data's likesT/10).toFixed(1)) | Andreas (print: ($data's likesA/10).toFixed(1)) | Rain (print: ($data's likesR/10).toFixed(1)) | Nyora (print: ($data's likesN/10).toFixed(1)) | Morael (print: ($data's likesM/10).toFixed(1)) | Kiaru (print: ($data's likesK/10).toFixed(1)) | Yellowtooth (print: ($data's likesY/10).toFixed(1)) </p style>

Outside, the rain has at last ceased, and a slim moon glimmers on the ramshackle stalls. The night air smells fresh and still, with only a hint of charcoal drifting from wet, burnt wood. The hound trots purposefully ahead, nose aquiver, and vanishes in the shadows. Though you soften your footfalls and breath, every sound seems loud in the clear night. You almost find yourself wishing that the rain had continued. As you creep along a dim, cobbled street, Prince bounds back to you. He halts at the mouth of a pitch-black alley-way that stinks of garbage. A rat skitters away into the dark. [[Follow Prince. ->followPrince]] [["Come on, Morael!" ->hurryMorael]]

gestures to a guard. "You! Take her down to the latrines!" The guard gives you a sour look and ushers you out of the tent. Outside, night has fallen. The guard hurries you forward, though he is careful not to touch you. As you round a corner, a dark shape hurtles from the shadows, knocking him flat. The russet hound stands on his back, snarling. It sinks its teeth deep into his sword-arm. The guard yells. [[Run. ->runAwayGuard]] [[Take his sword. ->sword]]

The soldiers look at one another. "Do you have any proof of your identity?" asks one. He sounds bored. [[(set: $difficulty to 15)(set: $skill_name to "Deceive")(display: "makeDice"): "Well, I *did* have a whole cart full of fine wine - but these louts left it behind when they arrested me. No doubt it's been looted by now." ->wineStory]] [["Fools! I am Crown Princess Seline of Thronheim! How dare you question me! Take me to the general at once - he will sort out this ridiculous misunderstanding!" ->nodDragAway]]

(display: "dice")(set: $data's deceive to it + 2) (if: $success is true)[The soldier nearer to you sighs. "Look, I believe you, ma'am. And I'm real sorry for the inconvenience. But we've got our orders." The other puts his head on one side. "Ugh, this is pointless. We've already sent him a dozen look-alikes. And then he chews us out for wasting his time. I say we let her go." "You know what? You're right." The first soldier turns to you. "Just get out of here! And keep your head down, alright?" You make your way out of the tent, struggling to keep a casual pace though your heart races. As you turn a corner out of sight of the guards, a wave of relief washes over you. Then you steel yourself. There's no time to lose! (display: "runAwayGuard")](else:)[(display: "nodDragAway")]

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