Just then, Commander Sorian chose to make his entrance. Judging by the lack of surprise in his expression, he'd already been apprised of the situation by one of the soldiers outside, but that made him no less angry. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, gaze quickly sweeping the room. "The messenger who came for me reported victory, milord. What-"

"What would appear to have happened, Commander?" the Regent snapped, cutting him off. The monarch's face was beginning to adopt a more burgundy hue. "I've already agreed to hear you, Grey. Release me!"

Silvryn's free hand produced a folded piece of parchment from a pocket inside her jerkin. "This is an order for the release of all prisoners currently charge with sedition," she explained, "as well as a declaration of temporary cessation of hostilities between parties. You will sign it."

"I will not," the Regent replied flatly. "Sedition has long been a crime punishable by death. A crime of which they are most decidedly guilty, regardless of how you may justify it."

"Which is why you will pardon them."

"This is absurd," the commander interjected. "I am no politician, but to the extent of my knowledge, it is not customary to break into a man's private residence and demand that he sign a peace treaty at knifepoint."

"On the contrary," Silvryn countered coolly. "Past experience indicates that His Majesty is most familiar with this method of negotiation. Though he is perhaps not as accustomed to being on the receiving end of it." Force was necessary, she knew. She was all too familiar with his version of politics. If they did not get it in writing, they could be certain that it would never be acted upon.

Though, if she were being entirely honest with herself, there was no small amount of personal animosity involved as well. There was something rather gratifying about holding a blade to the throat of the man who had effectively destroyed nearly every aspect of her life. A mere inch.... If she were being entirely honest, of course.

Finally, it was Adaniar who spoke. "I would advise you to recall that your continued existence is not entirely necessary, Lord Regent," he said quietly, dangerously. "This kingdom has changed hands before; it can do so again. Your life is being preserved only out of convenience and a rapidly dwindling sense of compassion. Wasting our time is not convenient, nor is it conducive to compassion. Choose your next words carefully."

The Regent made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. "Get me a pen," he muttered. He was escorted over to the large desk by Adaniar and Silvryn, knife still dangerously close. Dipping the pen in ink, he cast an irritated glance over his shoulder before signing the document with a flourish. A small amount of wax was melted over a candle, and the parchment received the royal seal.

Once the wax had solidified, Silvryn folded up the document and tucked it away once more. Then, slowly, she removed the blade. "There is still a parlor in the room adjacent, yes?" she inquired. The Regent's sullen silence was taken as a confirmation. "Then I suggest that we relocate to there. The bedchamber is hardly suited to prolonged conversation."

Everyone seemed to be in agreement, and so they did. The parlor was spacious, with a long couch and quite a few chairs arranged around an already-lit fire. The two sides became quickly evident as everyone selected their seats. The Regent and the commander occupied two of the chairs on the far right, with the guards standing uneasily behind them. On the opposite side, Silvryn, the Phantom, and Kjan occupied the couch, with Jate and Adaniar in the seats adjacent. Two chairs remained unoccupied between the groups, as though serving as a barrier.

The two sides sat in awkward silence, both waiting for the other to speak.

The Phantom folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other, narrowly appraising the five opposite in the erratic light of the fire. Silvryn was still as stone beside him. The silence invited interruption only from the crackles of flame.

Abruptly reckless, he leaned forward. "Your Highness." Somehow, there was vindictive pleasure in repeating those words. "Now that preliminary negotiations have been completed, I trust you are most curious about the common enemies we share. Lord Adaniar?"

When he leaned back, the recklessness reached its height. The Phantom sat up very straight and rested an arm along the curving back of their seat, where it rested behind Silvryn's shoulders.

_________________

Adaniar shot an inscrutable glace in the Phantom's direction before turning back toward the Regent and leaning forward slightly in his chair. "As you well know," he began slowly, "there has always been a significant amount of interaction between our races, resulting in a rather high rate of intermarriage. Full-blooded elves and humans do still exist in large numbers, but they are decidedly the minority. Even our respective royal families are of mixed heritage."

"Such has long been the accepted practice," the Regent agreed, only a faint hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"We elves are warriors," Adaniar continued, ignoring the interruption. "Physically, mentally, emotionally - everything about us is suited to battle. We have never gone longer than a decade without some minor feud, no more than a century without kingdom-wide war. Warfare is at the very core of our society. We have perfected it to an art. Humans, though far from lacking in your own strengths, are not warriors."

"It is late, Lord Adaniar. What exactly are you implying?"

Without warning, a dagger flew across the room, lodging itself in the seat cushion a mere half inch from the monarch's head. Adaniar rose to his feet. "I am implying, Lord Regent, that there are those who believe that humans have polluted the elven race. That by allowing these weaker, 'lesser' beings to breed into our society, we have caused ourselves to become a mere mockery of true elven potential."

"Raen," Kjan guessed.

"Raen is nothing new. The foundation of his doctrine is not original - isolation of the two races has been proposed many times before. Raen has merely taken this idea a step further. He seeks to purify the elven race by eliminating the pollutant. Permanently."

Adaniar crossed the room in three fluid strides. He grasped the hilt of the dagger but did not remove it. "There are some of us who oppose this idea, but we are rapidly becoming the minority, and we have our own concerns. We cannot protect your kingdom for much longer." The dagger came out. "You are faced with an enemy who would gladly and easily kill you in the blink of an eye. And he intends to do so very soon."

"While here we - pardon me, you - sit, raking in your taxes and wasting the nation's military," the Phantom said, not moving from his position. He angled an eyebrow sharply, forcing a mirthless smile. "How many thousand were sent to subdue a small group of rebels?"

"They succeeded," snapped Sorian, glaring.

"Oh aye, they succeeded!" Incensed, the Phantom rose. "What else could they have been doing? Watching the borders, perhaps? Engaging in some training that by the dark gods, they sorely need - going home to grow crops, even!"

"You have never ruled a nation," interjected the Regent, lip curling. "You know nothing."

"Aye, and if you sit on your fat arse bleeding Kytana dry any longer, you won't be ruling a nation either," snarled the Phantom. "If you'd like proof, I'm sure Raen would happily accept an invitation to raze Y'rydha to the ground."

Commander Sorian exchanged a glance with his monarch. "And you, a group of ragtag rebels, can stop him?" inquired the Regent, deep skepticism dripping from his voice.

"Obviously not," snapped the Phantom, "or we wouldn't be here."

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Silvryn rose to her feet. This was deteriorating quickly. "Phantom, if you will also sign this agreement, I think further negotiation would be best left for the morning," she interjected smoothly. She turned toward the Regent. "We can rely on your compliance?"

"I agreed to nothing," the Regent replied, scowling. "That treaty was signed under duress. It means nothing."

"Yes, and I vacated the throne under duress, if you will recall," Silvryn shot back. "If you are going to rely upon technicalities, I advise that you first consider the full implications. It would be rather inconvenient for you if ghosts began returning from the dead."

The Regent said nothing for a long while. "I... will comply," he finally muttered, looking as though the words pained him.

"Excellent." Silvryn looked back to the Phantom. "You will agree as well?"

The Phantom hung back. "And the prisoners," he said, eyes fixed suspiciously on the Regent. "They are all free to go?"

The man looked as though he'd rather swallow several of Eledhe's shurikens. "They'll cause havoc in the city," he snapped.

"As though you care," the Phantom returned contemptuously. He moved closer, eyes narrowing. "I'll cause some havoc, if that's what you're after."

"Yes, all right," snarled the Regent, his small deep-set eyes nearly slits.

The Phantom snatched Silvryn's treaty and shoved it at him. "At the bottom. 'All those affiliated with Phantom Grey are hereby pardoned of any wrongdoing and free to go as they will.'"

When the Regent had signed, the Phantom read it over several times until certain that no loophole had been created. He signed his name, jagged handwriting vicious in its spikiness, and after handing it back to Silvryn, shoved his hands in his pockets.

A long silence ensued.

Finally the Phantom moved his left hand to rest on the hilt of his greatsword. "Many thanks for the offer," he said loudly, "but we'll show ourselves out."

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"You are to remain in the palace," the Regent called after them. "I'll not be held responsible for the uproar caused if you appear anywhere else at this time. There are more than enough vacant rooms in the wing adjacent; one of Sorian's men will show you there."

Outside the Regent's quarters, Sorian relayed this message to one of the soldiers, though not without a few dark glances in the Phantom's direction. The rebels waited silently - but rather conspicuously - until the man finally nodded nervously and muttered, "Right this way."

As soon as the soldier had led them out of the commander's sight, Silvryn casually fell into step with the Phantom. "I hate him too, but you might try to be civil," she whispered dryly, evincing a thin smile.

"Why?" returned the Phantom, looking down at her and raising his eyebrows. "He was trying nothing of the sort."

He had not. Not indeed. The Phantom was briefly assaulted by an image of Silvryn very still, with a knife at her throat - and with that thought, he deliberately slowed his pace. "In fact," he said, feeling his voice grow rough at the thought, "he was being anything but civil."

They were far enough behind the rest that he felt justified in reaching an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer beside him as they walked. "If he ever tries an antic like that again, I will personally decapitate him," he said with vicious certainty, turning to look down at her. So close, he'd thought, to closing those violet eyes forever. Too close. "Silvryn - ah, dark gods." He turned his eyes back to the carpeted halls. "You have no idea."

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Silvryn stiffened at first, being unused to this position, but she gradually relaxed and even moved a little closer to his side. This was a good position, she decided. She rather liked the feel of his arm around her, pulling her closer. "No idea what you must have felt watching me recklessly endanger myself with little chance of success?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow at him. "No, I must admit that I am rather unfamiliar with that situation."

They were falling further behind, but she was not concerned. She probably knew these halls even better than the soldier did. "Lord Adaniar and I had it under control, you know," she continued. "As you saw, he was poised to act at the first sign of trouble."

All but slowed to a stop, now. "Where was your fail-safe?" Silvryn demanded after a pause, looking up. "What if we had not been there, had not already lured him into a false sense of security? That was exceedingly stupid, just bursting into there like that."

"We expected to find him alone," said the Phantom. He recalled the pair of guards, fleeing with hardly a struggle. Had there not been what seemed an entire regiment already inside, perhaps they would have offered a more valiant resistance. "There was no time for another plan," he added defensively. "We all would have been hanged, come dawn."

A short silence ensued. The Phantom glanced down and sideways, at the top of her dark head. "I don't care if you had it under control," he said suddenly. "Never do that to me again."

_________________

"You know perfectly well that I cannot agree to that," Silvryn replied quietly, pulling away. What did he expect her to do? Hide away until it was all over, while countless others continued to give their lives? He probably wouldn't object to that solution, actually, even if made sarcastically, and so she refrained. "I can no more do that than you could promise me that you would not do anything exceedingly stupid."

The others had long vanished from sight. "We are at war, Phantom," she said, sighing softly. "We are both going to be in danger just as much as we were before...this." She brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. "If you feel that this is going to be the source of undue distraction, then I suggest that we stop now."

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

Meanwhile, the rest of the rebels finally reached their destination. They were to stay in a suite larger than many houses, decorated more richly than anything Kjan had been in for years. His muddy boots seemed unfit for the thick carpet. It served its purpose, though, and Kjan rather quickly waved away their guide and shut the door.

Now that they were relatively alone, he turned toward Jate. "So what was your impression of the proceedings, Your Majesty?"

Before replying, Jate flung himself down on a sofa. The feel of the soft material, the cushion instead of rock...he could fall asleep right then and there. Instead, he reluctantly sat up and considered Kjan's question.

"Well...once we got past negotiation with pointy things, it went rather well. The Regent didn't have anything besides being stubborn. He folded quite easily..." Jate wondered if he would have been any different, confronted by Adaniar and Eledhe. "Still, he did sign, so it was a success of sorts. Though I'd think he'd let us stay here for days as much as Raen would."

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going on a journey through my old claims

"War requires a distraction," returned the Phantom, leaning down to punctuate his words with a longer kiss. Breaking it with reluctance, he drew her closer, studying her face in the square of moonlight streaming through the nearest window. Their shadows, nearly indistinguishable from one another, stretched across the hallway. Unconsciously, he tightened his arms. "And after it's done, I'll lose you to the elves," he added, more quietly.

Acutely conscious of their closeness, her slender form pressed against him and her lips mere inches from his own, the Phantom felt a grin creep across his face. "Wonder what would happen if they saw you with a lowly human."

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Silvryn was uncertain how to respond. She'd considered that very question more than a few times since they'd first kissed. Despite Adaniar's claim that intermarriage was a common practice even in the royal family, from what she understood, there was still a certain unspoken stigma about it. And while the royal family was theoretically in the perfect position to inspire a change in this general perception, a new monarch - especially one as young as she - could rarely afford to be so revolutionary.

"I do not know," she finally murmured. "I still am not certain what to expect. I hope that they would see it as a positive example, but...."

"If memory serves me, the guest chambers are still quite a bit further in that direction," a smooth voice interrupted.

As Adaniar studied the pair, expression vaguely amused but mostly unreadable, Silvryn became acutely aware of just how close together they were standing. They were likely breaking every rule of decorum, elven and human. Somewhat self-consciously, she pulled away slightly and turned around, but made no effort to leave the circle of the Phantom's arms. They had no reason to act guilty - as she had said to the Phantom before, Adaniar was not her babysitter. What he thought regarding this particular matter was not her concern.

"You recall correctly," she said, tone deliberately casual. "The others have gone ahead with the guide. We fell back briefly to converse privately, but we were just leaving to catch up with them. Would you care to join us?"

"Certainly, milady," Adaniar consented with a slight inclination of his head. "If you will lead the way...?"

Silvryn reluctantly extricated herself from the Phantom's embrace. "Of course."

<center>------------------------------</center>

Kjan shrugged. "I think he'd rather we were here than out there spreading out seditious lies among the populace," he pointed out. On a sudden hunch, he went and opened the door just enough to stick his head out. As expected, he was met with the sight two guards. He smiled apologetically and closed the door again before either of them could get too excited.

"I don't think they don't trust us," he said quietly, feigning hurt. "As if I'd give up a real bed to go sneaking around the palace at this hour. Lots of time for that tomorrow."

He eyed the sofa opposite Jate's contemplatively. He didn't think he'd ever seen a more inviting piece of furniture, but he was certain that the second he sat down, he'd be out cold. Which, unfortunately, would have to wait until the Phantom and Silvryn made it in. He wasn't concerned - he'd seen them drop back - but it was still common courtesy to wait. And he was timing them.

"I anticipate the Phantom wanting an early start," he said to no one in particular. "Might be advisable to sleep while we can."

Feeling slightly cheated, the Phantom let her go, falling into step beside the two of them as they moved down the hallway. He was glad of the darkness, because his face felt suspiciously warm beneath its few days' growth of beard. He had to look past Silvryn to steal a glance at Adaniar.

What did he think? It didn't matter what he thought. It didn't matter what anyone thought, the Phantom asserted mentally and belligerently. He wished the elves were not so adept at schooling their expressions to unreadable blandness.

A short trek through moonlit hallways and the Phantom could identify their guest quarters. He did this primarily by glaring at the guards, and receiving blank stares in return.

"We are not prisoners," he said pointedly, halting in front of the double doors. "You can leave."

They exchanged nervous looks. "Er," started the one, "our captain -"

The Phantom gave a grunt of annoyance and strode in, leaving them to stare blankly after him.

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Walking behind everyone else, Dante had caught just a glimpse of Silvryn and the Phantom, seeming almost <i>purposely</i> to lag behind everyone else. He thought about this now, as their leader entered the room, and stared at him with a cocked eyebrow.

The scrimmage with the guards today had given him several new colors to his growing variety of bruises. He surveyed a particularly large one on his arm first, and then paused to survey the group, each just as equally worn as him.

"Hmph." Dante sat on a bed and scowled at everyone, feeling quite out of sorts with the world.

"Well. We're all just going to go to sleep and wait for the Regents men to stab us in our beds, are we? Some happy little truce or another, is it?" Sitting on one of the bed's, he grunted softly as he pulled off his boots. They reeked with days of walking, fighting, and fleeing. "And you." He threw his boot in Jate's direction just to make sure everyone knew who he was addressing. "Going in there like a twerp. Sure, it's fine and glorious to play nobility with the rest of us, but personally, I don't see anything in you. What purpose did you even serve in this "alliance", eh?"

The second boot came off and fell to the floor with a thud. Massaging his head wearily, Dante tried to bite back further criticism that bubbled in him. A tiny, nagging voice at the back of his head warned him it wasn't right to belittle the boy so, but Dante had gone so many years used to speaking <i>exactly</i> what he thought.

"Bloody heart shard," he said, unable to stop himself. "All that trouble, those endless days of trekking, for a rock that merely unlocks doors?" He hmphed again, loudly, for good measure.

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