“We’re not here to stop you,” Leopold spat.

Arden raised his hand and the merchant relented. He looked at the war born with burning intent. He shook his head to reinforce his command.

“Hasty, as ever, but my brother’s right.”

The second the reports came in of sightings to the west of Scara Brae’s capital, the Knights of Brae had petitioned the City Guard and levied an army to defend their nation. It was not until long after they had begun their march had Arden realised at the head of the force was an old flame reborn.

“You stepped onto this island uninvited, and the Queen, though flawed in many ways has it right on one.” The swordsman pointed over his shoulder. “No religion compiles these men and woman to fight. But you slaughtered thousands of Scara Braen citizens.”

He wanted to go on about protecting his own, but William was not a man to bear the weighty words of piety for long. They shared one thing in common at least; they were quick to temper and had literal fire in their hearts.

“Those shit flingers are ‘citizens’?”

“We spent months treating with the Innari. For the first time in nearly a century we’ve seen no conflict and recompense has been called for by the tribal elders.” He had been at the moot himself and remembered the headache long after it.

“And it’s just like you,” Leopold threw caution to the wind again as it bristled goose bumps on the back of his neck. “To kill so easily for a bauble.”

“…You won’t put down your arms?” He had no intention of revealing what lay beneath Stansford.

Arden shook his head. He waited for a dramatic moment then raised a hand with fingers splayed. Harkened to his call, the knights along the front line unsheathed their swords in unison, span them full-circle, and raised their swan motif shields in defiance of the invaders.

“If I return to the capital with no blood spilled what message does that send to the world?” Scara Brae, at long last, had independence within it’s reach. Arden would sacrifice his own life, and many more besides to break the shackles that bound them to the mainland.

“Do you think I care?”

“Somewhere deep inside that volcanic heart you did, once.” He pictured the sight of the Ixian Captains pulling Jensen Ambrose from the iron maiden, and what torturous decisions could have driven William to turn on a man once akin to flesh and blood. He did not have it in him to condemn him anymore. “There is another way this ends.”

“Immortality gives you false confidence.”

“Ha,” Leopold snorted. “Strength gives you the same.”

“Do you really think I’d march ahead an army knowing that I cannot be killed?” His eyes glinted. “William. A lot has changed in your welcomed absence. I am no longer the man I once was. Death hunts me just like any man and I marched here even knowing our encounter was inevitable.” Though he could go toe to toe with the demon, he doubted even his swordsmanship could put an end to the invasion before it truly began.

“Then why don’t I end your misery here and now?”

The wind danced over the bough of the valley, turning cold as the sun faded behind a mottled grey cloud as ominous as it was eerily beautiful. The shield wall behind them did not faulted, eyes piercing the ‘messenger’ and hearts beating in common cause. The smell of vomit and worry faded, replaced instead with a tense, spring time prelude to iron and blood.

“I may not be able to stop you, but you know more than any what together the troupe can do.” He had kept his word. Neither he nor Duffy had alluded to William’s return, as much as he had wanted to shatter his tea cup the day they met, and force feed the broken shards down William’s neck. “So, listen well.”

He made another series of hand gestures, long established military code for summon the riders. Two horsemen emerged from the battle lines, grey mares and simple saddles carrying the lightly armoured youths to the captain’s side. They nodded and awaited instruction.

“Ride to Stansford Jack, Jules. Order its evacuation and accompany them to the duchy town. Tell them to return only when I give the all clear in person.”

They gave one another a nervous glance but were soon on their way with a dust trail in their wake. Arden watched them with a flutter of hope in his heart. All the while, he fought against the oni that wanted nothing more than to lay waste to the plains.

“You will send half your army against us.”

William raised a singed eyebrow.

“The rest will go south to Stansford, which will be empty. You will claim whatever relic you’re after and leave the village exactly as you find it. Our meagre force is all that ould be spared as we reinforced the border between the Innari homeland and our southern territories.” True peace was a myth, just a long standing stalemate between beleagured ideals.

“Bullshit will he,” Leopold clenched his partisan tighter.

“We,” Arden too a deep breath, the need to slap his brother rising, “will return to the capital bloodied and bruised but victorious.” That was conjecture, but whatever strength and ferocity William’s ‘army of war’ had mustered would be met with the martial training of a lifetime, and fine steel armour. “Everyone,” he frowned, “I think, gets exactly what they want.”

The offer lingered, leaving Arden spent and Leopold as irritable as ever. They were near enough the demon but far away enough from the earshot of the frontline to parlay in confidence. Despite William’s insistence the Knights of Brae were here only through religious fervour, he had no doubt even if they did know their plan they would march and fight and die to protect the peace they had only just come to know.

“Deviate from this, and you’ll see what The Last Song can do to your treasured hope of a future.” He wondered what William would do if history rewrote itself, if the bid for freedom from Cassandra Remi’s thrall had failed and he, like the Silent Swordsman, had remained chained to a higher ideal.