The marble halls of the palace were gently illuminated by elegantly crafted sconces with cutout patterns that cast interesting shadows throughout the corridors. Like a skulking spirit Nazmyr wandered the marble halls with no particular destination in mind. Valas’ recent visit left him with much to contemplate. Nazmyr took great pride in showing off the kingdom of Ev to Valas; as if it were some great prize. The City of Ev was very well off and it’s people took pride in themselves and their city. Everything within the city limits seemed to be well manicured and in good repair. If there was poverty in the city it was not obvious.

“It is beautiful city to be certain brother.” Valas said “But is this what you truly want? To be king amongst these humans?”

“If not me then who?” Nazmyr crowed “As King of Ev I have access to one of the most amazing armories the realms have ever seen!”

“I can see the appeal.” Valas lied. “And what of Lady Ev?”

“What of her?” Nazmyr said dismissively.

“You may hold the title brother, but Lady Ev holds the power. She seems to regard you as nothing more than a possession…a trophy that she can flaunt when the need suits her.” Valas offered evenly.

Valas’ observation angered Nazmyr, mostly because he knew deep down inside his brother was right.

“Perhaps…. but only because I allow it. In time Langwidere will succumb to me and I will be the true monarch. It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that they crave subjugation. They were made to be ruled. In the end, they will all kneel before me.”

“Of that I have not doubt brother. Be that as it may. Do you really want to be tied down to a kingdom of humans the same way Ishtoshen is tied down to his orcs? Is that really some great prize?”

Again Valas’ words bit hard. It was a comparison Nazmyr had never thought to make. He wanted to say he was wrong, that his situation was different, but he couldn’t. Nazmyr and his brothers are paragons of their race. Why then would he want to waste his time governing and tending to lesser beings? His ego was getting the better of him. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Indeed Valas’ recent visit left him with much to contemplate.

In the days following Valas’ departure Nazmyr came to the realization that the plot of his life didn’t make sense anymore—that although he thought he was following the arc of a story, he kept finding himself immersed in a passage he didn’t understand. He came to the conclusion that Ev and Langwidere needed to be written off and removed from his story. He convinced himself that he had outgrown them and didn’t need them anymore. With new found clarity he went looking for Langwidere, to be rid of her; at least for the time being. He pushed through the elaborately hand carved oak door that led to the parlor. The parlor’s interior was a total work of art with elegant and lavish furniture, small sculptures, ornamental mirrors and tapestries complimenting architecture reliefs and wall paintings.

What he saw next snatched the breath from his chest…”Impossible.” he was barely able to gasp. He saw her resting on an embroidered lounge chair. She greeted him smiling a silver grin her fangs only just exposed. She wore a long black silk dress with red accents close fitting to her form with a long slit up the right side that exposed her skin up to her hip. Her hair was still the color of jet and her eyes were still green as emeralds. She was still beautiful.

“Nazmyr.”  Langwidere said casually as he entered. “So good to have you back.”

Langwidere’s words were hollow in his ears and he felt the blood in his veins go cold. As he battled the sudden onset of dread, he managed a slow smile.

With a quick bark of laughter he said “Langwidere my love! I was unaware we had guests.”

“This is Camille Bellcourt. She’s an old acquaintance.”

Camille slowly rose from her seat and sauntered over to Nazmyr.

“There’s no need for introductions Lady Ev, we’ve met before.” Camille said as she offered her hand to Nazmyr.”

Nazmyr felt his muscles become rigid and his posture stiffen as Camille approached.  He didn’t accept her hand but offered her a wry smile.

“Oh really?” Langwidere said with a mixture of surprise and jealousy.

“We met at Magnus Bane’s swaray.” Offered Nazmyr, his eyes still locked on Camille.

“Ah, of course.” Langwidere said recalling the event. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I…uh…yes…I’ll be away for business…for awhile. I didn’t want my extended absence to concern you.”

“Is that all then?” Langwidere said dismissively.

“What kind of business?” Camille pried.

“It’s complicated.” Nazmyr said somewhat annoyed. “I’ll spare you the details.”

“I’m all about the details.” Camille quipped. “I detest loose ends.”

“As do I Lady Bellcourt.” Nazmyr said evenly. Quickly changing the topic Nazmyr continued “Well it seems I have taken up enough of your time. I shall take my leave.” Nazmyr punctuated his sentence with a quick nod to both ladies and exited the parlor closing the elaborately hand carved oak door behind him.

Nazmyr stormed through the marble halls of the palace.

“Impossible!” He thought to himself. “Impossible…but could it? No, no, no, that’s Impossible! But how?!”

It didn’t matter. Camille’s return only solidified his decision to abandon the throne of Ev and Langwidere. He still cared for Langwidere though he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was because he knew she was more than she seemed to be. He saw past her former humanity, past the construct, and into her soul. Her life had made her selfish but only because she had no proper examples to follow. She didn’t know any better.

“Why am I making excuses?!” Nazmyr chided himself. “I was bewitched by Camille and Langwidere! And now they are in league with one another!”

Before his departure he sought after the secret workshop where he had seen Twain repair Langwidere. He was firm in his decision to leave Ev but he wasn’t leaving empty handed.

The room was different than the others. There was only one glass window, wavy and yellowed by time. The fireplace had not seen use for some time and there’s a woodpile in the corner that was collected years ago. It had all the appearances of being forgotten about. But for Twain the room had certain advantages. It’s location in the palace and its neglected appearance made it easy to overlook. Under the hearthstone was a shaft leading directly to a secret cellar. It was so well concealed it would remain undiscovered even when subjected to the closest of scrutiny. Beyond the shaft was Twain’s secret workshop and where the magic lived on. All manner of tools, gears, parts and mechanical props hung from the walls or were stored neatly in wooden bins. Industrial looking lanterns that hung from the ceiling illuminated the workshop with a gentle arcane glow.

Ever leery of glyphs, wards, and other traps, Nazmyr carefully surveyed the entrance into the workshop. Upon completion of his inspection he nodded to himself in satisfaction and entered the workshop. He took only a few short steps before he was struck by a blinding flash of light. He instinctively shielded his eyes and frantically tried to regain his bearing. By the time he did it was too late, he found himself encapsulated in a shimmering cube of force. Desperately he cast several spells to no avail. Minutes seemed like hours as his mind raced to discover a way to freedom. He was running out of options when Twain methodically entered the room closing the door behind him.

“There’s not many people who can breach my workshop.” Said Twain.

“But you figured I’d come.”

“Yes but not so soon. After.”

“After? After what?”

“After whatever chaos you could sow in Ev. Once Ev was in turmoil and Langwidere was desperate, you would appear to us as a friend, and we would let our guard down.”

“Is that so?”

“I want you to leave Ev.”

“Why would I do that? Consort is only a stepping stone, soon I will be your true King.”

“And once you’ve won, once you’re King of Ev, what happens to Langwidere?”

“Why are you so concerned for her? Is this love, Twain?”

“Loyalty. I owe her a debt.”

“Tell me.”

“Long ago there was a terrible accident. I stay to make amends.”

“Ah yes! I know of the story! The King, her father, trampled to death before her eyes, murdered before his people! And you feel responsible. You want to make amends for the horrors you caused.

“I will fix what is broken! She has been through enough pain! I won’t let you hurt her! You’ve done enough already!”

“I see.” Nazmyr hissed “You want to comfort her when she wakes from whatever tortured dreams and visions she endures in her slumber. Do you really think you can ‘fix’ anything? Do you think you can change a woman no more virtuous than myself? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic!”

“She’s nothing like you!”

“You think you know her so well just because you recreated her in your image?”

Twain stared emotionless at Nazmyr, saying nothing.

“And what will you do if I vow to leave all of this behind?”

“I’ll let you out.”

“Ah, no. With a kingdom in the balance? You’ll have to come up with a better bargain than that.”

The modron had to think for a moment. He had very little in the way of wealth but he had schematics; schematics of the smoke powder weapons Nazmyr coveted.

“I know you value my creations…I will give you the schematics.”

“Your schematics are useless to me without a place to construct them.”

“You’re a clever fellow, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“You will build me a forge in a location of my choosing. Only then will we have a deal.”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Yes you will. My brothers would love nothing more than to tear this place asunder.”

Twain started to become concerned that he was in over his head. He knew he couldn’t keep Nazmyr imprisoned forever and he wasn’t easily disposed of. He was fully aware of Nazmyr’s power, and if his brothers were anything like him his threat was no small boast.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“Oh, I’ve given you no word to keep. In my judgment, you simply have no alternative.”

Twain dwelled on Nazmyr’s terms for a moment. The schematics were like currency to the modron, and he had plenty of copies. He wasn’t keen on building a forge but if it meant being rid of Nazmyr…

“Very well, we have an accord.”