"Aye, well, it's not as though it matters now," said the Phantom - for now he felt as though the Phantom might not yet be obsolete - flatly.

He could have done any number of things. He wanted to swear, kick the furniture, tear Raen limb from limb; but instead he turned and went to the window, half expecting Y'rydha to be seething like a kicked anthill already.

It was quiet. Quiet for a little, at least. How long before everyone knew? How long before they all put two and two together - rebels staying at the palace, Regent dead in the same gruesome manner in which he would have executed them mere days before. The rebels' motive was built in; revenge for their leader's 'death'. The Phantom cursed under his breath, dragging a hand over his face as though rubbing the sleep from his eyes would make this sudden turn of events vanish, too. Half the city would rejoice. The other half would be out for blood. Chaos.

And now all their eyes shifted, as though drawn irresistibly, to Jate. The Phantom opened his mouth and shut it again, at as much of a loss for words as any of them

In the boy's place, he wasn't at all sure he wouldn't have wet himself.

_________________

Jate sat in shock, staring at the opposing wall. The Regent, dead. Likely killed by Raen - that was something else to think about. If it was true, then Raen had his spies inside the palace itself. And he probably wasn't too far behind them. What was to become of the kingdom now? They were leaderless, facing a dangerous--

His thoughts stopped as if they had slammed against a brick wall. Leaderless. No! Now was not the time! He was supposed to take over after being taught, after it was nearly all over, dark gods! "D***," he muttered to himself. To himself, yet it filled the silent room. Jate scrubbed his hands through his hair in an attempt to think. "Bloody ashes." What was he supposed to do in this situation? Oh sorry, your leader is dead, guess it's me now? He drew a deep breath. "Well."

How could they respond? How could he just pick up and start running a kingdom on the edge of chaos? They would be soon, if they weren't already. Raen had seen to that. Dark gods, Raen. Jate had been worried about a target painted on his head for the Regent, but now...If Raen had known the Regent's decision, and had acted as quickly and efficiently as he had, then Jate was dead next in his sights. He was frozen. His mind was paralyzed by fear. One corner whispered to him of his failures, his soon-to-come end, and he couldn't stop it. He tried again.

"Well. If Raen is moving this quickly, we need to get prepared, and fast. Assuming, of course, we aren't thrown back into prison under a wrongful assassination of the Regent."

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going on a journey through my old claims

"Any accusations they do make will be unfounded," Kjan pointed out. ''The guards can attest that we were here all night. And anyway, it wouldn't have been wrongful, even if we had done it. He had over thirty of our men killed in cold blood. The murder was ill-timed, but not undeserved.''

Silvryn said nothing, still lost in thought. "Go make yourself presentable," she finally said to Jate. "Quickly." As he complied, she turned to Kjan. "It would be ideal if we could address two of our most immediate concerns at once. Those not vitally important to handling the politicians might take this chance to survey the town. We need to know what the public knows."

Kjan made a face. ''To be honest, I had rather hoped to spend my morning engaged in tedious negotiation with whiny politicians. But if Milady so wishes it.... Ash, Dante - anyone seen Eledhe? - I fear we must obey Lady Silvryn's orders and get out of this gloomy castle for a few hours. Such is the cost of serving one's country."

"Discreetly, Kjan,'' Silvryn cautioned. ''You are easy enough to recognize, and allegedly dead at the moment. Do not simply create more of an uproar.''

Kjan considered mentioning that she might want to take that up with the one who went everywhere clad in armor and heavy weaponry, but instead he simply bowed. "I assure you, we will be the epitome of subtlety." Starting with clothes that didn't scream nobility. Bowing slightly again, he went off in search of more plain attire.

Silvryn looked to the Phantom, stubbornly refusing to let her mind start running through the previous evening's events again. The last thing she needed was one more distraction. "I assume you would prefer to be involved in the negotiation? The more qualified individuals that we have arguing our side, the better."

For the umpteenth time, the murk of pre-dawn shadow in Y'rydha's streets deceived Eledhe's eyes and she tripped. Spitting a quiet curse, she slowed, sucking in deep breaths and twisting to glance over her shoulder.

Uneven cobblestones stretched out behind her, flanked by cramped houses and shops. Here and there, a candle flickered behind drawn curtains, but most windows were dark. Eledhe listened. No pursuing footsteps. But that guaranteed nothing.

She ducked into an alley and slumped against one brick wall, pressing a hand to where her heart was flailing against her ribcage. With its audible pounds, she could feel the seconds slipping maddeningly away, and began to mouth a steady stream of curses once she had the breath to do so. Curse it. Damn it.

It can only benefit the Guild to side with the monarchy. In retrospect, the overtly eager tone to her voice had sounded as though she'd been groveling. What had he said in reply? He'd scraped a laugh from his miserly throat. Then - Have you been gone long enough to think I rule the Guild, Darkstar? Evasion. He'd always ruled it. Are you a patriot now, then? In a sense, she was, but it would have been suicide for her credibility. No, she'd said. I see sense. Do you?

And that was when it had all gone wrong. The Guildmaster had stared at her flat-eyed. Not staying at the palace on invitation, then? he'd inquired. A pity you failed to inform me of that, you know. I had a job that would have been perfect for you. Too late now. Soon it'll be done.

She'd arched an eyebrow. This time he'd given a razor-sharp smile. They'll think the rebels did it.

It had been hard to wait until she was back in the streets to break into a dead run. Even so, Eledhe twisted to scan the street once more. Nobody was following. She had to keep going.

Too late, her heartbeat was saying by the time she slipped over the walltop and into the gardens. It was taunting her. Too late. Too late. Too late. The courtiers were scurrying like ants. Nobody even noticed her pelt towards the main courtyard. By the time she saw the grotesque silhouette swinging from makeshift gallows, Eledhe had already heard the news from a dozen mouths. "He's dead!" a footman had said to the groom. "Who's dead?" "The Regent!" Two maids had been huddling by the doorway of the scullery. "I tell you, it was those rebels," one had whispered. "Wasn't he going to hang the Phantom, just a day ago?"

It took all Eledhe's self-control not to scream.

The thought of personal repercussions did not occur to her until just outside the rebels' assigned chambers. A soldier stopped her, flinging out a gauntleted hand. "I heard it was one of you assassins that did it," he said, eyes narrowed.

"And go to all the trouble of hanging him?" she retorted waspishly.

He let her past, but she didn't miss his eyes following her through the double doors.

The Phantom was just shrugging, shoving hands in his pockets as his shoulders slumped, and saying, "Aye, I think I'd better."

"It was one of them," said Eledhe into the lull, closing the door and stepping forward, her eyes skittering around the chamber. "It was someone from the Guild."

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Silvryn wasn't entirely surprised by Eledhe's revelation. It made sense to pay off someone who was already in the capital and would be difficult to trace. "I imagine the Guild will not have that manner of assignment on record," she mused out loud. "Is there any way that you might be able to discover who was responsible? If we can determine the employer, then we will be one step closer to confirming Raen's involvement."

She had intended to say more, but just then Jate reemerged, looking at least somewhat less like he'd just rolled out of bed. Since she had already changed earlier, they were both ready to leave. Everyone likely would not be gathered for a little while longer, but she desperately needed to speak to the boy - not a boy, she chided herself, a man only a few years younger than she - before they began.

"Meet us outside the main audience hall," she said to the Phantom, indicating that Jate should follow her.

She deliberately walked slowly, heading in the general direction of the audience hall but not in any great rush to reach their destination. "I am going to be entirely honest," she began once they were alone. "I am very dubious of your ability to rule this kingdom. You have no experience, no training, and thus far you have exhibited no natural talent for leadership. You sit in the background, content to follow others until something offends you, at which point you interject with some rash and generally ill-timed comment, then expect to simply fade back out of notice."

Pausing briefly, she glanced over at Jate before continuing. "Your little outburst last night with the Regent was nearly impressive," she admitted. "You displayed a basic comprehension of the gravity of Kytana's situation and the need for action, which is more than could have been said for some in the room. It would have been far more impressive, however, had you contributed to any of the discussion before or after. Anyone can spout off a passionate, empty speech about what is being done wrong. Do you think the Phantom was the first to speak against the Regent? A leader is someone who can not only see a solution, but take initiative and inspire others to work toward it. To date, you have not demonstrated that ability."

Silvryn stopped at one of the large exterior windows. The rising sun was just beginning to illuminate the capital city and the vast stretches of land beyond its walls. "Y'rydha alone has a population of several thousand. Kytana as a whole is home to nearly one million individuals. That is one million lives governed by the decisions made within these walls - one million lives ultimately in the hands of one person."

She looked up at Jate. "To take the throne is an immense responsibility," she said quietly. "It is not a decision that should be made lightly, nor unwillingly. You do not have to do this. I am sure there are competent individuals who would gladly take your place. You can continue to live out a normal life and never speak of it again. But if you do want it - if you truly feel that you are capable - then you are going to have to prove me wrong."

"How do you know?" demanded the Phantom, as the doors closed behind Silvryn and Jate. What genius had allowed a coalition of killers for hire in the same city as the monarch?

"The guildmaster implied as much," returned Eledhe, biting off her words. Her plaited hair was coming loose. She whipped the leather tie from the end of her braid and began to swiftly reassemble it. "He said 'they'll think the rebels did it.' Seemed to find it amusing."

"And just our luck, they do," said the Phantom. "Take Kjan and Ash and Dante - find out what public opinion is. I'd like to avoid, say, a riot."

The slight delay of her stiff nod in response did not escape him. "What?"

"Apparently someone's seen an assassin do it." Braid finished, she straightened. "At least you're dead. Don't have to worry about being arrested."

"Ah, damn it. Get out of the palace, then," said the Phantom. His head was beginning to ache. "Out of sight, out of mind."

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Jate met her violet eyes, then turned to stare out at the surrounding landscape. It galled him to know Silvyrn's words were true. The most he ever spoke was when someone incensed him. Still looking at the buildings and hills, he began to work it out.

"Lord Ralkaien, my adoptive father, was not the most friendly of men. It was not that he was unfeeling, merely that he was distanced. He had his lands and deeds to concern himself with. He trained my older brother on affairs of the state and how to get along in court." Jate felt that Silvryn might be growing restless at this seemingly pointless speech, and he held up a hand. "I was expected to inherit a small part of the estate, out on the country. I wasn't taught the finer points of etiquette. Why they didn't think to educate me further when you vanished, I don't know. Perhaps they thought the Regent would do just fine." A young boy was trotting alongside a goat on the road. He was probably headed to marked. For a fleeting moment, Jate wished he could join that boy, and escape the trials ahead of him. He turned and met her gaze again.

"I can't expect you to understand my position, in the same way I will never understand yours. You spent your entire life preparing to lead a country. You talk about me being content to stay in the back and follow. Well, that's all I've ever known. I met up with the Phantom. He's a leader, a man of action. He knew the workings of his group and what he was after. I followed along clueless. Plans concocted in the dead of night or years beforehand that I had no knowledge of. Journeys to retrieve this," he briefly touched the pocket where the Heartshard rested, "while I didn't know what it was or why we we wanted it. These past months I have followed because I'm two steps behind. Without footprints to step into, I feel like I'll run off a cliff's edge. The only subject I think I know as much about as anyone might is Raen. Well, anyone besides the elves. Even so..." He shrugged, almost a helpless gesture. "To be truly able to size up the problem, I would need to know more about Kytana's soldiers, reserves, plans. None of which I ever learned about. So again I am left lost. I'm trying to put together the blacksmith's puzzle with rings still missing."

Jate was unsure how this was going over, but he plowed on. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I am the right person to rule. Perhaps once I've learned more, I could do good things. I haven't been trusted with anything bigger than servant's quarters to manage before. I know the enormity of this. I can't do it by myself right now. Dark gods, Silvryn, I have 20 years of work to catch up on! And it could be nice to live a normal life. But I am absolutely positive on one point. In order to have Kytana whole and united to face Raen, I am the best person to have. Those more competent than I are not likely to be sympathetic to our cause, nor easy to persuade about the importance of this threat. My bloodline tells nothing of my skills, but it may be enough to win over those who would oppose another person on our side. I have the knowledge, at least, to bring together the two sides of the country. I've lived the two sides."

He again looked out the window. The boy had disappeared from view; he'd probably reached the market by now. He would hear about the Regent and about the Phantom. What rumors would be flying around? "I can't promise that I will be a wonderful ruler. I can promise that I will try my best - no, more than my best. I need to learn, and fast. Thank the gods I do pick up on things relatively quickly." Unconsciously, he straightened and his voice grew firmer. "Action will have to come with the learning. Rumors will have to be kept from leaving the city, and from spreading as much as possible. The fact that the Regent is dead can't be hidden, but there has to be a way to keep attention from pointing to us." D***. This really was not the best timing.

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going on a journey through my old claims

Silvryn studied Jate wordlessly for a moment. His point was valid - she had already known that, logically, he was in the best position to take the throne. It would be highly beneficial to have someone in command who recognized fully the danger that Kytana faced. But would it be easier to convince someone who was already trained to lead, or to train someone who was already convinced?

It was not that she saw any true lack of potential. There were rare moments, glimpses of the ruler that he could become with time. And she would not dispute his claim of being a quick learner - he had been faced with many sudden, unexpected changes in the past month, and if he had not handled them with exceptional ease, then he had at least adapted as well as anyone else might. No, she did not doubt his potential. She doubted whether it would manifest itself before it was too late for Kytana.

Without warning, she turned and resumed walking at a slightly faster pace. "This is your first lesson, so pay attention. No monarch is sovereign - no effective one, at least. A king without the support of his subjects is a dictator, and dictators never survive for long. You must understand your people, earn their trust. Obviously you cannot meet each and every citizen of Kytana personally, and so there is a system of representation. The lords speak, theoretically, for those peasants who live under them, and then a select few of the lords speak for the whole. These lords, combined with experts in various fields who serve as advisors, are the people with whom we are about to meet. Win them over, and the rest of Kytana will hopefully follow."

They were growing near the audience hall now, and so she kept her tone lower. "Also, do not assume that they are all corrupt. Many of these men were faithful servants of the king long before the Regent took command. Some even served as instructors or mentors to me while I was still studying. They were simply skilled enough as politicians to hold onto their positions through the transfer of power. Convince them that it is in their best interest to support you, and they will follow you as well as they would any other monarch."

--------------------

Kjan, having located a suitable change of clothes, returned to the common room in time to catch the last part of the Phantom and Eledhe's conversation. "I'm supportive of any plan that means getting out for a bit. Especially now that we're suspected of murder," he said as he fastened his cloak. Even after receiving a thorough washing, the cloak still had a faint odor about it, but the only alternative had been velvet and embroidered, among other offenses. This would work just fine.

He glanced out the window. The sun had risen, and the first stirrings of life could be seen in the capital. "People are starting to wake up," he noted. "I give it an hour before the word's spread all over the city. We need to move." He sat on one of the couches to pull his boots on. "Ash, Dante? You tagging along?"

"Understood," Jate said as he stepped quickly to catch up. "I know a few of the lords by name, but do you think you could give a little more information?" He didn't know if she could, or would. For all he knew, the lords were chomping at the bit to know what was going on, and waiting five more minutes would be disastrous.

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going on a journey through my old claims

"I know most of them." Phaerin caught up with Silvryn and Jate from a side hallway, eyes flickering ahead to the double doors of the hall, propped open. "Pleasure of long and fruitful association. Besides, most will be missing." He clapped a hand on Jate's shoulder and leaned in to mutter in the boy's ear. "All you need to do is impress them enough that they'll give you a chance. There aren't many choices for heir left. The Regent saw to that."

As they passed over the threshold, he scanned the gaggle of lord and dignitaries, falling back into step behind Silvryn and Jate. Several were passionately gesticulating, their coloring beetroot of varying shades.

"...I demand that you confine those rebels, Commander!..."

"...always said the Guild was a liability, always..."

"...I hope you have soldiers in the streets. There will be riots..."

The tangle of opinions rose to the vaulted ceiling with all the decision-making power of a mob itself. Phaerin grimaced. Hardly any of them turned, even at the entrance of their resurrected princess. He envisioned Raen's glee over the confusion and felt his lips tighten.

With no place but at the sidelines, he caught Silvryn's eye briefly and moved off, drifting to a place by the long windows looking out on the courtyard and gates, and waited. The nearest pair of lords were both greying, one dressed in navy blue brocade and the other swathed in a greatcoat as though he'd alit from a carriage mere seconds ago.

Navy Blue turned, and Phaerin jerked around to stare fixedly out the window. After a moment, he peeked over his shoulder.

Seven levels. It was his father.

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Ash hopped into the room, pulling on his own boots. He had managed to rescue them, along with his cloak, from a pair of servants who were thinking about throwing the garments out. “Tagging along,” he said. “Anything’s better than sitting in here.”

He was half-afraid that the guards would march up at any moment, declare the rebels under arrest for murdering the Regent, and throw them back into prison. That probably wouldn’t happen, but he would still feel better outside the ridiculously decorated rooms, walking freely through the streets.

Dante huffed in keeping up with the quick pace of the younger men. "Do we ever <i>not</i> have to improvise? Are we ever <i>not</i> following a plan that was concocted or re-concocted ten minutes ago?"

Eyes narrowed everywhere they turned; mouths tensed and whispered to one another behind cupped hands. Scratching at the ill-fitting common clothes - the only ones he been able to find in such a rush - Dante fought the urge to growl at each and everyone of them.

"And where is our 'plan' even going?" he demanded of Kjan. "May I remind you that at any moment someone could just randomly kill us in hopes of honor or reward from whoever it is they are trying to please? Even the psychopath elves - who just seem to pop up whenever the moment is convenient to them, and slit throats. Not to mention the disaster that unschooled whelp could wreck on this entire nation... oh gods." He was silent for a minute as this thought fell on him. "This doesn't even classify as a plan! This is some very, very potent mixture of idiocy and desperation!"

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Silvryn waited, her expression a carefully impassive mask that at least mostly concealed her uneasiness. Gradually, the room grew slightly calmer, and Commander Sorian caught her eye. "You wanted them here, and here they are," he said, gesturing. "I've done my part."

Several of the room's occupants looked up as though just noticing the new arrivals. If any of the lords were especially surprised by her presence, they did a good job of hiding it. Though, of course, such things came to be expected in politics.

"You neglected to mention, Commander, that we would be negotiating with murdering rebels."

Silvryn was unfamiliar with the lord who had spoken - someone presumably appointed since she had last had business in the palace. "You assume incorrectly on all accounts," she said coolly. "We are no longer in rebellion, we can verify that none of us were responsible for the Regent's most inconvenient demise, and this is not negotiation. The time for that is long past. We are here, as a whole, to discuss the rather difficult situation that Kytana presently faces without her leader."

"Why you sought to convene is irrelevant," the same man countered. "The fact remains that that man-" a long finger was pointed in the Phantom's direction "-has been wreaking havoc on our nation for over half a decade. I lost easily ten thousand gold in his last raid alone. How can we expect to solve any problems while known traitors are permitted to roam about the palace freely?"

-------------------------

Kjan didn't bother to turn around. "Thank you, Dante. Your keen insight has yet again revealed to me a glaringly obvious detail that I somehow managed to overlook. We're so very fortunate to have you around to warn us every time we're about to fail."

It was still rather early, so they were in no great rush to leave, but the stares that they were earning around the castle were growing uncomfortable. Finally, after talking their way past the guards at the exit, they made their way down to the mostly-empty streets of Y'rydha.

"Right, where do you suggest we go first?" Kjan asked, looking to Eledhe. "We can't very well go around knocking on doors, asking people if they've heard about the Regent's assassination and what their thoughts are on that."

All the heads swiveled in unison, quite as though they'd rehearsed this beforehand. The incriminating finger seemed to inconveniently impale Phaerin onto the unforgiving stone wall. And he'd thought to be unobtrusive? Ha. It was tempting to let his eyes slide over and observe the host of expressions that could have been passing over his father's face. However, judging by the silence - which was already growing long - he didn't have time to indulge himself.

Phaerin stepped forward, undeterred by his accuser's steely stare and the accompanying scrutiny of the rest, and flourished a bow. "Phaerin Grey," he introduced. "I'll politely remind you all that Phantom Grey recently met an untimely demise." He paused. "Not unexpected, you'll agree?"

They were exchanging oblique glances now. He dropped his hands into the pockets of his brocade coat and began to stroll back and forth. "However, I will be happy to speak in his place." Pointing Finger was arching an unamused eyebrow. "Good sir, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that your money did not go to waste - which is to say, it has been put to more use than it was sitting in your coffers -"

"Don't waste our time," barked one of the lords, and it took Phaerin a moment before he realized it happened to be the - venerable - Lord Grey.

Phaerin moistened his lips, which were unconscionably dry, and looked anywhere but at his father. "What I mean to point out," he continued, "was that Phantom Grey will not be bothering you in your, ah, noble efforts to restore peace to Kytana, both because he is unable and because he feels he has done his duty." Time to stop the charade. A sidelong glance revealed Lord Grey to be staring at him with a set jaw and an unimpressed eye. Perhaps the time was ripe to offer them something new to gripe about. He found Silvryn's eye. "Princess, I believe you had something to say?"

_________________

Silvryn nodded shortly. "As I was saying, the greatest concern at the present is Kytana's apparent lack of a ruler. Am I correct in understanding that the Regent failed to appoint a successor prior to his death?" Several men nodded, and the silence of the rest served as confirmation. "Then the first order of business is to do so in his stead. People will soon being asking questions, and we must have answers."

"And whom do you propose?" asked one of the lords. After a moment, Silvryn recognized him as Lord Mairon. He was a reasonable enough man, in her experience. "He had no children, no most trusted advisor. Practically any man in this room is as qualified to rule as the next."

"Yes," Silvryn agreed. She glanced briefly over at Jate, trying to quell her apprehension. He could do it. She drew a deep breath before continuing. "My lords, may I present to you Jateyani Ralkaien, eldest nephew of the late King Aris and heir to the throne of Kytana."

It certainly distracted them, but in the silence that followed, Phaerin counted too many thuds of his heart against his ribs. Too many exchanged glances. Too long a pregnant pause. Damn it, why did Jate not say something? The nearest advisor, a middle-aged man with a straggling beard, had a derisive smirk creeping across his face. Phaerin was on the point of stepping forward.

Lord Grey coughed, making his son start and turn his half-step awkwardly into a mere shifting of feet. "Inform us of your significance, boy," the grizzled lord said, fixing Jate with a keen eye that Phaerin knew all too well. He squirmed a little in empathy. "Your reputation has failed utterly to precede you."

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