"No," said the Phantom vaguely, "I don't think he is. But you're welcome to the villain if you'd like."

And, thinking muddied and incoherent thoughts, he somehow made it back to his quarters and collapsed on the nearest surface that seemed vaguely outfitted for sleep.

---

Pounding...hammering...was someone beating a pattern on his skull? The Phantom groaned and rolled over, failing to judge the size of his chosen place of slumber, and landed with a jarring thud on the floor. Something crunched beneath him. He didn't bother to see what it was, only staggered upright blinking.

He'd apparently been sprawled comatose on the long sofa - miraculously clear of debris - that, if he remembered correctly, had been proudly carted in by a crowd of fussing minor noblewomen. How they'd gotten it in was beyond him. It wasn't bad, for sleeping, he mused.

Thoughts having careened off in a direction chosen at random, he brought himself back to the present. There was still that hammering, and it was accompanied by irritable shouts, which seemed richly populated with curses. Oh. Eledhe.

He stumbled over to the door and opened it, squinting at her. She had a very piercing yell. "Stoppit - you're going to break something - like my eardrums - what?"

"Oh, nothing," said Eledhe, livid. Her eyes were snapping. "There's only a horde out there demanding to speak to the esteemed Phantom Grey and you - are - asleep!"

She was practically shrieking now, and the Phantom winced. "That hurts - why can't you -"

The full meaning of her words belatedly struck home. He mouthed soundlessly, like a fish, and dived back into his chambers. "I need Kjan! And Silvryn! Wake the whole Keep if you must! How bloody long have they been there?"

She had already gone. He cursed and searched for socks.

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Kjan awoke that morning to the all-too-familiar sound of an emotionally disturbed woman pounding on his door and shouting obscenities. Eledhe must have slept exceptionally well the night before, as she was beating the door with far more vigor than he's seen her do much else recently. Muttering something under his breath, he grudgingly rolled off of his sleeping location of choice - a couch, this time, the laundry hamper having proven to be less than comfortable - and slowly got to his feet.

"Who is that?"

Right. Cerys. "That's just Eledhe," Kjan replied casually, casting about for his boots. He really needed to look into getting a new pair; one was still torn from where the gnome had sunk its teeth in, and both soles were about as effective as parchment. "You met her last night - the leather-clad mercenary with a perpetually cheery disposition."

"Shouldn't you answer the door?" Cerys asked as the pounding grew even more insistent.

Kjan waved a hand dismissively. "Eledhe likes to make a scene. If it's important enough she'll- I'm coming!" he shouted abruptly as the noise grew too loud for him to be heard. The answering expletives were met with several of his own, and he continued with his morning routine as though nothing had occurred.

Cerys arched an eyebrow at him from where she sat on the bed (which he had willingly relinquished, having never really found much use for it). "You've expanded your vocabulary, I see."

"Master Hyath always said I needed to learn how to communicate more concisely," Kjan replied with a shrug, finally locating the boots and hastily pulling them on. He made his way over to the door and (wisely) stayed clear of the gap as he pulled it open. "Can I help you?"

"Phantom wants you," snapped Eledhe. "Probably something to do with the thrice-cursed legion waiting outside." Then she was gone, trailing displeasure in her wake.

---

The Phantom had located a clean tunic, a respectable jerkin, and two mismatched socks that would be covered by his boots anyway. He'd failed in the area of breeches, but as there was only time to dive into whatever clothes he found and none to search further, he lurched out of his chambers clad reputably, buckling his swordbelt and running distracted fingers through his disordered hair.

A faint echo of hunger asserted itself, but food could wait until later. He raced through the network of tunnels, passing a few anxious denizens of the Keep and pausing only to nod before hurrying on.

Seconds were stretching to hours. The Phantom arrived, out of breath from running up the long sloping ramps, and found himself directly in front of one of their more useful magical assets.

A shimmering field stretched the length of the passage's blank wall - this particular one being at the very outer extreme of the Keep itself - rippling silver. Runes on the walls at both ends glowed dully, like inlaid gems. The Phantom hastily traced several with his fingers, muttered a word or two that sounded like nonsense but was apparently the way one activation this particular spell - and a view rippled across the wall, the view one might have seen had the passage opened windows onto the battlefield below.

The Phantom began to steadily curse under his breath. The army - now fully assembled - was half again what he had estimated. The council members had failed to mention this. He stared at it a few seconds longer, then began to search for the negotiation party that had, as Eledhe reported, approached the Keep.

It didn't take long to find - a smaller cluster of armored figures seemed to be approaching the foot of the mountain. The Phantom stared down, his mind racing. This would not be a negotiation. This would be a demand for surrender.

_________________

Kjan hurried to catch up to the Phantom, still buttoning the comparatively clean vest that he'd donned to cover up the long slash in his tunic. Said tunic still stank of three weeks' travel, but there hadn't been time to do more than grab the first vest he saw, strap on his weapons belt, splash a bit of water on his face, and run out the door.

A short distance behind him, Silvryn was likewise quickly making her way to the designated meeting point. The previous night's events had still been playing themselves over in her head upon waking that morning, but at the present her only concern was the horde of soldiers awaiting them outside the Keep. Or, more specifically, those among the soldiers who were now demanding an audience. When she had suggested negotiation, she had intended for it to be on their own terms.

Kjan came to a halt next to the Phantom, taking a moment to survey the scene before he let out a low whistle. "This could be minorly problematic."

The Phantom clenched and unclenched his fists, staring at the panorama laid out below. "Minorly," he repeated, with a bark of a laugh. "Right. We need a plan."

He turned, scanning them. "We have nothing to negotiate with. They know they can besiege us until we run out of resources. This is a request to surrender with as little loss as possible."

Momentarily uncertain, he stared once more out the magical window. Should they surrender?

The thought lasted seconds. After five years? Not a chance, He turned back. "How long will it take for us to figure something out? We'll have days. Maybe. Maybe one day."

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Ash woke from a deep, pleasantly dreamless sleep to the sound of pounding and shouting. It took him a few confused seconds to recognize the shouts as Eledhe’s. Fortunately, she wasn’t pounding at his door, but he could hear her impatient curses echoing down the corridor. Stumbling out of bed, he opened his door and peeked out in time to see Kjan hurrying away. He turned back to his room and rummaged through a pile of clothes for a clean tunic, grabbed his boots, belt, and knives from the floor, and hurriedly dressed.

Back out in the hall, he paused a moment to remind himself which room Jate was in, picked what he hoped was the right door, and hammered his fist against it, shouting, “Better wake up! Something’s happening- you might want to be there.” He nearly ran down off down the tunnel to catch up with Kjan before remembering that, as a relative newcomer to the Keep, Jate might need help to not get lost. Settling for pacing, he waited until the man was ready, then started down the tunnel at a run. “They’ll be this way.”

Of all the bloody seven levels... Jate mentally cursed Eledhe, for making so much noise, the bloody army at their doorstep for being the cause of it, and Ash for making him a part of it. Not that any of the curses stopped him from tossing his boots back on and flinging various stacks of parchment around. This must have been an overflow room for the Phantom, couldn't find a bloody thing in the whole place....ah! Snatching up his pack, Jate ascertained that the Heartshard was still safely tucked inside. He needn't bother searching for his weaponry now, there wasn't time anyway. Barging out the door, he nearly ran into Ash. The two pounded down the tunnelway until they skidded to a halt behind the others.

"Of all the bloody, flaming..." The words escaped before he realized Silvryn was also in the room. Taking into account her long history with the Phantom and Kjan, though, Jate dismissed his concern and turned to the small problem at hand. "Surrender, I suppose? How long can we stall?"

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going on a journey through my old claims

"We need at least a month," Silvryn said in response to the Phantom's query. They needed time to recruit fighters, train them, equip them....Even with a month, they would not be prepared. "I will be surprised if they grant us more than a few days."

Kjan stared contemplatively down at the assembled army. There was absolutely no way that they could best this force unaided. Numbers alone made it impossible, not to mention superior training and equipment. Though the Keep was a veritable fortress, their experience a few weeks ago had proven that it was not impenetrable. They could hold out as long as the Keep did, but as soon as that barrier was breached, they didn't stand a chance.

"If it comes to a fight, we lose," he said at length. "If it comes to a waiting game, we still lose, albeit more slowly. The only remote chance we have is negotiating for as much time as they'll give us, then hoping that Adaniar shows up before it runs out. Eledhe and I can go to meet them first - there's no sense in sending the rebellion's entire leadership into a potential deathtrap."

"They might know I haven't been here," objected the Phantom. "It hardly looks good to proclaim an entire rebellion in your own name and then fail to show up for negotiations."

"Know what else doesn't look good?" interjected Eledhe, having appeared in the meantime with several more weapons than she usually carried and begun swiftly securing them on various parts of her person. "Getting shot in the eye by a sharpshooter somewhere on this bloody mountain, dying, and there being no more rebellion in your name."

The Phantom shot her a look and proceeded to completely ignore her. "So, we negotiate for however long they'll give us and hope like our lives depend on it." There was a pause in which the air was practically heavy with the words that inevitably came next. "Because they probably do."

_________________

"Do you see the Regent down there?" Kjan asked, gesturing toward the 'window.' "No. Because they don't trust us enough to send their leader out to meet us. Likewise, I don't think we should trust them."

"If we have learned one thing in the past five years," Silvryn added, "it is that the Regent does not care how he wins, as long as he ultimately does. He is not bound by any honor code - if assassination is the easiest way to get what he wants, then he is not above it. That is how this entire war began, if you recall."

The Phantom's gaze shifted from Kjan to Silvryn, and lingered on the latter. "The whole reason for the rebellion is to prove we're better than him," he returned pointedly. "There's no point in sinking to his level."

Uneasily, he turned around and found that he seemed to be the only one on his side of the argument. "It makes sense! They know Phantom Grey, they'll want to talk to Phantom Grey!" Perhaps his voice was rather shrill. He turned to the shimmering window in the rock, watching the smaller party near the foot of the mountainside. "The Regent isn't here," he added in a monotone. "I would think his army commander is slightly more honorable."

_________________

Kjan started to speak, but Silvryn cut him off with a wave of her hand. "You have persuaded me," she stated evenly. "Given that there is clearly no danger involved, I wish to attend the negotiations as well. I am sure that they will be overjoyed to learn that I am still alive and well." She looked up at the Phantom, wordlessly reminding him of their conversation the night before. This, in her opinion, qualified as 'exceedingly stupid.'

"Look, I can handle it," Kjan added insistently. "I had all the same diplomacy classes you did and even managed to get better marks in one, as I recall. And anyone in their right mind's intimidated by Eledhe. And we lose less time this way, especially if the negotiations prove to be lengthy. If Eledhe and I take care of this, meanwhile you and Lady Silvryn could already be making preparations and devising a strategy."

The Phantom was already staring at Silvryn, seemingly jarred by this idea. "He had you assassinated," he said, gesticulating wildly. "Well, not in actuality, but if you walk out there -!"

He made some overly dramatic gesture, vaguely resembling the strangling of a conveniently invisible personage directly in front of him, and stopped to listen to Kjan. "The only reason you got a higher mark is because that schoolmaster caught me putting fish eggs in his desk."

He cast one more glance at Silvryn. Exceedingly stupid. Eledhe pointedly flicked out a throwing star.

"Fine," growled the Phantom. "If you get yourself killed..." he trailed off by way of making what weak point there was. Hard to punish someone for getting killed.

_________________

"Then you'll know I was right," Kjan shot back dryly. He gave the Phantom a mock-salute, then followed Eledhe down to the nearest concealed exit.

----------

Commander Sorian eyed the approaching pair curiously. He had heard stories, seen posters of the elusive Phantom Grey. Tall and dark, he was said to be, quite the imposing figure. Which meant that either such accounts had been horribly inaccurate, or the Phantom was not coming. As the two - a man and a woman - drew closer, he stepped forward slightly and extended one hand. "Commander Sorian of His Majesty's Army," he said by way of greeting.

Kjan eyed the proffered hand for a moment before firmily shaking it. "Kjan," he stated plainly. "Second-in-command to Phantom Grey. And this is Eledhe. She likes sharp objects."

"With all due respect," Sorian replied, "my summons was for the Phantom. Not his representative."

"With all due respect, our complaint is with your Regent, not his military commander," Kjan countered. "When your leader is willing to negotiate in person, so will ours. In the meantime, I am afraid that I will have to suffice."

Sorian folded his arms across his broad chest, appraising the pair before him more closely. "My intent is not negotiation," he said at length. "Nor have I contacted you at anyone else's bidding. My men have your stronghold completely surrounded; it is only a matter of time before we penetrate your few remaining defenses. At that time, we will attack, and there will be many lives lost on both sides. However, I am offering you one - and only one - alternative to this pointless bloodshed: complete and unconditional surrender."

"And you think this is a decision made lightly?"

Eledhe's voice flowed like silk edged with razors, suddenly and conspicuously alien in comparison to their human ones. She shifted her stance, hand resting easily on the hilt of her scimitar. Only Kjan knew how many other defenses she had at her disposal. Belatedly, she executed a mock bow. They stood on the stretch of grassy meadow - trampled by the besieging forces - at the foot of the Keep's sheer mountain wall. "We are only representatives, as Kjan has said. We need time to confer. To consider...our options."

She made it sound as though they had twenty to choose from. Smiling serenely, Eledhe blinked unnervingly ice-blue eyes and folded her arms. "Surely you wish to avoid loss of life on your side as well?"

---

The Phantom watched. He watched for about thirty seconds, as the highly dissatisfying spectacle played out below. He couldn't even hear anything. Muttering an oath, he turned away from the shimmering magical window. A subdued silence fell over the group in general, at odds with the rest of the Keep, which buzzed with a frantic air of patience before it panicked.

To be down there - he shook his head as if brushing away an annoying insect. No. They would be back soon enough. Back with terms of surrender. The Phantom raised a hand to his face, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. Surrender or fight.

He found his other hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. Absently, his gaze strayed to Silvryn's knife, then to the poor excuse for a dagger on Jate's belt.

"You're going to need something better than that," he said abruptly. "Care to have a look in the armory?"

_________________

"If you'd care to point me in the right direction," Jate replied. "I'm new to the place, remember?" That set off a train of thoughts, the train that had derailed as he slept last night but was now back on track. "Ah...it would be nice to know the layout of the Keep in general," he continued. "And some of the things you've done for reinforcing it. I recall some mention of tunnels into the city...? I'd like to be able to give some input, especially since I have a stake in this thing too." All at once Jate was struck by a new thought. Glancing at the regal woman beside him, he turned and cleared his throat.

"Milady," he said with a small bow, "I truly hope you don't see me as taking your place. The Light only knows, it was the last spot I expected to be. But, ah...I know this has been a fight of yours for a long time. And so it shall continue to be?" He wasn't sure at all how the statement had come across, and the impassive violet eyes were giving away nothing.

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going on a journey through my old claims