Hail was baffled by the fact captured men were included in the fray when the word was given.

But he knew that was the neglect of not mentioning more details when they issued the notice. Bounty hunters brought in their captures of all shapes and sizes. The number of failed attempts was countless.

They were in the city chancellery. A place considered a paragon of lofty marble construction that complemented the royal palace. Tall columns fronted the building. Pointed trefoil arches lined the exterior and interior hallways. If it weren't for the snow, overgrown vines often crawled up the columns. And as they are frozen in place, white and colorless, it only indicated how cold this place had become.

In the lobby, Hail could feel the heat of Regh’s gaze from behind. Guards blocked the entrance, putting order to a line of hunters bringing in their catch.

Regh watched without uttering a word. His silence, unnerving as it was to the common folk, spelled disappointment.

It didn’t take long before Regh left the office. His wait produced nothing but another day crossed off the calendar.

Gathered outside in the snow, lines of people awaited. Eager to prove that the fish they caught was the healer Regh wanted.

Hail rubbed his forehead. People could be delusional, convincing themselves that they had the one. None so far managed to meet the requirement, so to speak.

Even after a month’s worth of names and faces, the royal court was only faced with mediocre performances. Said fishes couldn’t heal without relying on concoctions.

Deciding to proceed to the next step, he ordered the women screened. The men were sent home. That declaration left the captured men in cries of relief. But other thugs thought of something else that filled their pockets.

With their knowledge in medicine, their captors auctioned them in slave markets. Their roles transitioned into personal healers of the wealthy.

Leaving the place, Hail travelled back to the palace where he found Regh in the throne room. He was scratching a winterwolf behind its ear.

There was nothing important to report. Another day, another empty page.

Hail wondered why Regh was taking this long to decide. He knew as much as the High King that his time was slipping through the hourglass. For all he knew, Regh left the search to the rough hands, hoping the one who had the Queen’s mahiqa would appear.

Hail had anticipated that outcome in the long run. A month was nothing more than passing time for him. Regh, though, now he was a different story.

As a friend, he was there to help him.

In the days when abuse was there to blame Regh, he provided a safe place for him whenever he got the chance to escape from his father. He fed the prince when he was all skin and bone. Tended his wounds when proof of the beatings saturated his clothes. And lit a candle for his mother when she passed away in cold blooded murder.

For his loyalty and goodwill, and as a maharlika, Hail was appointed Chancellor.

Regh told him that he wanted the girl to eradicate the curse that ate away his life. In a way, to purify it if she was successful. But was that all? Hail couldn’t help but think there was more to it.

“The wasteland,” Regh gazed outside the windows. “How many of them managed?”

Hail appeared to flip through the papers he held as if to confirm the numbers that wanted to claim the reward. “Not much. People there are desperate. I’m positive more will arrive soon.”

No surprise there given how the people in the wastes were the banished of a lost empire. Rastite was not Regh’s territory. But he was able to live in Dryar, the desert waste, for a short amount of time during he and his father's exile. They were the two main cities of the wasteland.

On the other hand, Flesperia was home. Regh knew the Dukes and Duchesses in its territories. He knew the maharlikas, the middle-class, and the peasantry under his rule. They would not defy a request that came from the court if it was to keep their current place in the kingdom.

Yet after a month of searching, their efforts bore no fruition.

“You know these pups haven’t had anything worthwhile to hunt for some time now.” From the winterwolf, Regh turned to Hail.

Hail's eyes found the High King. “You mean a deployment?”

He could have sworn he almost saw a smile linger at the corner of Regh’s lips when he gave the idea.

“Every household, every woman. Do not spare the children, girls, should there be the slightest chance one of them may have it. I will not take my chances for a slip-up. The boys? Hone them into soldiers, make them serve the mainland. Should any of them resist, make sure you define for them the meaning of power.”

Your wish is my command, I guess. If Hail could only say it. “I’ll arrange for agents and round the men right away.”

Regh approached the dais and rested a hand on the throne, something that appeared like quartz crystals, but was made of ice. “I’ll go. With the hounds.”

Hail looked at Regh like he was seeing the High King clearly for the first time in a long while. “I beg your pardon, Majesty. This is the wastes we’re talking about.”

Regh raised an eyebrow.

“Allow me to be the reminder that these people, thanks to your father, are the very reason mahiqa wielders have depleted. If it wasn’t for your grandfather’s lust for war years before, they could have remained loyal to the throne. And then your father went ahead and did what he did.”

Hail couldn’t help but be the reminder. “Because of Merz, you’re the only survivor in the royal family and the only one with an existing mahiqa to date.”

"Did you forget?" Regh interjected, showing his own fangs. "I’m the reason they’re dead."

“That was your need for revenge, Regh.” Hail was ready to risk his life on the line. Let the High King impale him with ice for all he cared. “If you have no intention of passing this gift, what would become of the empire? Imagine the chaos that would bring.”

If he only knew how the sound of chaos was a musical composition to Regh’s ears. “I’m not the only one.”

Hail pointed at the ground, the papers flapping in his hand. “No, you still are unless we get physical evidence of this woman.”

If it wasn’t Hail who answered him that way, Regh might have already found his corpse preserved in ice. Or in the belly of his pets. Hail was one of the few that Regh allowed to speak to him that way.

“Remember my aunt, Alessah? The last ritual she did?”

Hail shot a glance away and caught one of the acanthi designed corbels. The late Queen liked the interior based off of nature. “That still does not confirm the existence of another wielder.”

Regh shook his head. “No. But I always knew her to be thorough. One way or another this woman will show herself.”

“Pray tell,” Hail was all ears for the plans ahead.

Regh gave him an enthusiastic glow of his emerald gaze. And the ominous accompaniment of a malicious smile.