Prior to the Age of Antiquity, the north was partitioned by manageable plots of land, overrun with governless tribes that knew the spirits of the earth and shunned the creatures of the heavens. Whether the eventual and unanticipated unification of those tribes was the catalyst that ushered in the new age was unconfirmed by contemporary historians, but it was a theory difficult to dispute.

The Kingdom of Simo united under the reign of a warlord who formed the Achterecht’s parent clan, managing the monumental feat so swiftly - with such meager resistance - that even Ilysian historians considered it a divine act of the gods.

The members of the Achterecht Clan were notorious for their acumen, a trait that, according to an old wives’ tale, they paid for with the sacrifice of their pulchritude. In other words, they were plain people.

Of course, that hardly seemed to apply to the Second Prince, which would naturally lead one to ponder the legend’s verity - or wonder in which part it went awry. 

But such musings were useless, the commander thought as he barged into the Room of Archives, bypassing the etiquette of knocking, out of sheer habit. The old archivist on the other side could not have been less perturbed by it, as he was far too accustomed to Cele’s unsolicited presence to conjure a reaction, other than his typical greeting.

“Commander Adesso.” The graying man was seated behind a tall, narrow desk, crouched over a piece of vellum. His spectacles balanced precariously on the bridge of his nose and a quill was poised in his knotted fingers. He looked up only when he completed his thought on the paper and returned the pen to its inkwell. “What a pleasure to receive such welcomed company so late in the evening.”

“Bernardo,” Cele reciprocated, sounding far less weary than he felt. “You ought to be resting, old friend.”

The archivist chortled, removing his spectacles with a hand that trembled with age.

“There will be plenty of rest to be had in the heavens and there is far too much to accomplish still, here on earth.” He sighed and placed his interlaced hands in his lap. “And anyway, I’ve been awaiting your visit.”

Taking a step closer, the commander scanned over the spines of the three tomes stacked on the archivist’s desk. ‘Simonese Heraldry - Vol. 1,’ ‘5th-9th Century Proceedings of the Simonese Witan’, and the infamous ‘Princess Ursula Account of the Geister of the North’. She was the first of Vincente’s ancestors to be born into royalty and the first Ilysian to record an accurate history of the Achterecht Clan.

“Then your little birdies have already apprised you of the situation?” Cele asked, looking back up at the old man’s bright, lively gaze.

The commander would bet his entire namesake on the fact that those eyes would never grow weary or tired. When it was their time to rest with the gods, it would be done so in a swift and single moment. Anything slower and he would end it himself.

“I know of most everything that happens under the king’s roof,” Bernardo countered, “‘tis what I’m paid for.”

“You’re paid to read pages and know things,” the commander rejoined.

“I’m paid to know things,” he corrected with a cheeky grin. “Reading is merely a perk of the position. And either way, Celestino, you are in no position to squabble with me - if not for my birdy, I would not be prepared for your company.” He then sighed. “Sending the Second Prince is a rather unique ploy, but the sons of the Ghost King are notorious for their wiles.”

“Are you implying,” the commander asked, forcefully swallowing his amused tone, “that we ought to have expected such tomfoolery?”

“I would be far out of my bounds to even suggest such a thing,” the archivist replied with graceful rapidity, waving his hands at the notion.

“You’re amongst friends, Bernardo,” Cele assured. “Speak freely.”

He needn’t be told twice.

“Then, yes. This sort of tomfoolery ought to have been expected. A spontaneous call for negotiation of this caliber should have been a tocsin to the Horned Forum - I had told His Majesty as much. In all of the records we have of the Achterecht Clan, not a single one mentions any murmurs of an armistice, let alone actions taken to achieve one.” Bernardo exhaled, raising his palms up. “On the other hand, there is also no historical record of the Achterecht Clan using ruses like this to gain any upperhand. Still, it is unlikely that they would send an underqualified ambassador to conduct negotiations with a realm that they have held in high regard for more than fifty generations. To that end… I don’t have a clue as to why King Ingo has sent Second Prince Heiko.”

“And what of your records regarding said second prince?” Cele prompted. “Is there anything you know that supersedes the rumors?”

“In what way?” Bernardo queried, brow knitting.

“The gossip of his cruel disposition is widespread. Surely, you are aware of this,” the commander said, receiving an assenting hum from the old man, before continuing. “This disposition was not put on display for me or for the Horned Forum earlier today. It will only harm the authority of the king if his council judges the second prince based on uncorroborated rumors - especially if the prince continues to conduct himself in such a way that would dispel them, regardless of their potential authenticity. What I need you to tell me, old friend, is hard facts about Heiko Achterecht. Nothing further.”

The archivist exhaled and nodded. “Very well, then. Let us begin.”

⚔