Theron pushed a pawn across the board with his thumb. "There are ruins in Kethros. Pre-Collapse architecture, potentially housing artifacts from the Ancient Era. I need them investigated before their senate decides they're sitting on a divine mandate."
"Ruin-diving in Kethros. Lovely. Nothing says 'low-profile favor' like breaking into a sovereign nation's archaeological site." He tapped Aldric's fingers on the table. "What's the catch? Trapped? Cursed? Guarded by something that screams in dead languages?"
"All three, most likely." Theron said evenly. "The Kethrosian Senate has prohibited entry under penalty of execution. They believe the ruins are sacred."
"'Sacred.'" Verum scoffed. "Everything's sacred to someone."
"What happened to the good old days when favors were simple? 'Verum, haunt this nobleman.' 'Verum, make the chancellor's wine taste like feet.' Now it's all geopolitical complications and international borders."
"Consider it character growth." Theron leaned forward slightly. "Besides, the ruins contain certain traces."
"Certain traces?"
"Certain traces." Theron said, savoring each word, "of a certain phantom."
"Ah." Verum's borrowed face went carefully blank.
"Uhuh. Uhuh." Verum slowly nodded Aldric's head, and Theron could practically see the phantom's mind racing through centuries of forgotten projects, abandoned experiments, and ill-advised magical graffiti. "Which... phantom, specifically? There are just so many these days."
"You tell me." Theron's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Architectural quirks consistent with your aesthetic preferences. And of course, the small detail that the entire complex appears to have been designed around principles of bio-magical resonance."
"Bio-magical resonance." Verum repeated slowly. "That could describe a lot of Ancient Era research. It was a very popular field-"
"With exactly one practitioner still existing to discuss it." Theron's tone could have frozen wine. "Would you like to keep pretending, or shall we move on to the part where you tell me what you left down there?"
Verum opened Aldric's mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
"Define 'left.'"
"Items, experiments, magical infrastructure-" Theron waved a hand. "-semi-autonomous constructs designed to operate for centuries without supervision. Choose whichever applies."
'All of the above, actually. Sorry, old friend. This is going to be an awkward conversation.'
"The Verdant Catacombs." Verum admitted finally, slumping back in the chair. "That's what I called it, anyway."
"And what was it for?"
"Research." Verum said, which was technically true. "Bio-magical applications, sustainable essence matrices, that sort of thing. Standard experimental arcana for the era."
"Standard." Theron said, his skepticism palpable. "Three military expeditions vanish into ruins that apparently convince people to stay indefinitely, and your assessment is standard?"
"Well, I said it was standard for the era. That was a weird time. Everyone was trying to break fundamental laws of reality. I was just... more successful than most."
"Successful." Theron repeated the word like he was tasting it for poison.
"At the research part!" Verum clarified quickly. "The actual containment part was less successful. Hence the... you know... the lingering issues."
"In my defense." Verum held up Aldric's hands placatingly, "I did dismantle most of the critical systems before I left. Whatever's active now either survived the shutdown, rebuilt itself, or someone else found my notes and decided to continue the research."
Theron's eyes narrowed. "Found your notes?"
"It's possible!" Verum insisted. "The facility wasn't exactly hidden. Just... difficult to access. And dangerous. And probably cursed. But other than that, perfectly discoverable by sufficiently motivated idiots."
This was, of course, done intentionally by Verum. The wonders of nature often went beyond the ingenuity of man, so even if he had given up on the project, there had been no harm in letting it survive and naturally develop and potentially yield some results.
Theron was quiet for a moment, studying Verum. "The Senate's fourth expedition launches in six weeks. They've requisitioned their weavers, hired foreign specialists, and are treating this as a matter of national priority."
"National priority." Verum repeated slowly. "They think there's something down there worth claiming."
"They're correct." Theron said bluntly. "The question is whether they find it first."
Verum regarded Theron for a second then exhaled softly, almost a laugh. "You're not planning to touch it."
Theron didn't deny it.
"We'd be deemed too strong." Theron said.
"Coalitions." Verum supplied. "Trade freezes. Sudden moral outrage."
Theron nodded once. "Not worth the effort."
Verum held Theron's gaze for a moment, then let it go.
Extinguished embers weren't worth stirring.
"So if I find something useful?"
Despite himself, Theron's lips twitched. "My point stands. You're welcome to keep whatever you find useful, provided Kethros doesn't get it."
"Three weeks, Verum. That's all the time we have. And-" He paused, as if weighing something. "-consider it a favor. From me to you."
Verum blinked. "You're... offering to owe me a favor? For investigating my own disaster?"
"For preventing a continental power shift that neither of us wants." Theron corrected. "And yes, for taking the diplomatic risk. If you're caught in Kethros, I disavow you completely. That's not a small thing to ask."
'He's actually being reasonable. That's somehow worse than when he's being manipulative. At least manipulation I know how to work with.'
"Well." Verum drummed Aldric's fingers on the table, considering. "When you put it like that..." He met Theron's gaze. "Alright. Deal. I investigate the Catacombs, neutralize anything that could destabilize the continent, and you owe me a favor for the trouble."
"Agreed." Theron inclined his head.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the negotiation concluded. Outside, the camp was settling into evening routines, fires being lit, guards changing shifts. Inside the tent, Verum's borrowed fingers found the lead-lined box containing the Sun-Scorched Petal, tracing its edges absently.
'Now or never. This is the important part.'
"Since we're settling accounts for future services..." Verum's tone shifted, the theatrical energy draining from Aldric's posture as something quieter and more serious took its place.
"There is one thing. There will be... events. Soon. You will know them when they happen. They won't impact you and your people but I need your word, as the Land itself, that you will not interfere. No Royal Decrees denying them. No legions sent to investigate. You look the other wa-"
"Pass the wine."
Verum stopped mid-sentence. "...what?"
"The wine." Theron gestured without looking up from his maps. "It's by your elbow."
"Did you just-" Verum stared at him. "Did you just 'pass the wine' to my ominous request?"
"Four out of ten." Theron said, not even looking up from his maps.
"FOUR?" Verum broke character entirely. "That was at least a seven!"
"The 'overserious' energy was good. The tone shift was competent. But you oversold it with the pause. Too much buildup, not enough payoff."
Verum sighed and passed the wine. "Four out of ten. Unbelievable. I've toppled kingdoms with that pause. You're the worst audience."
Though he had played it off, for the first time in the exchange, something shifted in Theron's gaze. A flicker, a narrowing, the faintest hardening of a mask he'd worn for a thousand years. He regarded Verum long and silently, and though his face was still, the air itself seemed to press heavier, the way a storm front settles over a plain. He knew precisely what Verum was planning. The scale of it. The risks of it.
"You're finally trying it." the King said, his voice barely a whisper. It wasn't a question.
"Resurrection…"
...
A slow, genuine smile spread across Verum's stolen face. "You catch on quick."
"I've known you long enough." Theron leaned back, his expression unreadable as his mind whirred with thoughts.
"Let's just say the comeback will be one for the ages."
The silence stretched, thick with the weight of millennia and a pending upheaval. Finally, Theron gave a single, sharp nod.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." Theron picked up his quill, the audience clearly over. "Now, get out of my general. And try not to start a religious cult on your way out. The last one took centuries to dismantle."
"Can't make any promises!" Verum chirped, snatching the box and striding toward the exit. He paused at the flap, looking back. "You know, for an immortal, you're terribly afraid of a little excitement."
And just like that Verum was gone, the tent flaps rustling in his wake as Aldric's healed body collapsed onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
And so Theron was alone again.
He picked up his goblet, the constant, sour-rain sensation of his people's anxiety a faint thrum at the back of his throat. He looked at the space where the phantom had been, the only static in his perfect perception of his kingdom.
"Just a pest." he murmured again solemnly as the tent flaps fell shut.
He sat with those words, turned them over in his mind like coins whose value had suddenly become uncertain.
Because for the first time in centuries, he wasn't sure he believed them.
For the first time in centuries, the banter felt hollow.