Kairos 68: Matrimonial Matters

It wasn’t the first time Kairos participated in a monster hunt on griffinback.

Thankfully, the target wasn’t a dangerous Nemean Lion but a pride of serpopards. Kairos had heard of these creatures, but never met one until today. These monsters, as per the name, looked like giant spotted cats with elongated necks and serpentine fangs. Kairos counted around fifteen of them stalking after zebras across the dry Valian northern savannah.

The Travian gave the signal by pointing his [Anemoi Spear] at the skies and clearing out the clouds. The serpopards interrupted their hunt to look up at the griffin and his rider above them, before tensing up as they heard horses approaching. Prince Hadad’s hunting party came from the south, a group of forty riders including the finest cavalry of Vali. His sisters led a second group coming from the west, while Tiberius, Agron, and Cassandra struck from the east.

The serpopards must have already learned to fear hunting parties, for they immediately abandoned their own dinner to run away north.

“They’re quite fast,” Rook said as he followed the felines from above. The serpopards ran twice faster than the horses and left their pursuers in the dust. “They’re getting away!”

“It’s fine,” Kairos reassured Rook. According to Prince Hadad, serpopards were quick but lacked the endurance for prolonged chases. Eventually, they would tire out. “Truthfully, I’m not all that eager to win this hunt.”

Kairos supported monster hunts for food or to gather crafting materials, but these serpopards would probably end up as princely carpets. He wouldn’t mind seeing them escape this fate.

“A shame,” Teuta’s voice said from above, followed by the flapping of wings. “I would have loved to see you in action.”

Kairos looked up, as a black griffin hovered to his level while carrying a pirate queen on its back.

Unlike Rook, Teuta’s griffin had feathers as black as a starless night and sharp golden eyes. His body was as lean as a panther, his wings as elegant as a raven. Though the winged beasts rivaled each other in size, Teuta’s mount lacked Rook’s serpentine tail. A claw scar went down his right eye, the remnant of some old battle.

A fighter’s griffin, not a rogue’s, Kairos thought.

Instead of a spear, Teuta favored a double-edged obsidian waraxe glimmering with veins of silver and shining rubies. Though it radiated a powerful magical aura, Kairos had been unable to read its stats with [Barter] or [Magical Knack]. The same item that shrouded his [Observer] Skill whenever he looked at Teuta also interfered with his other abilities.

She was a lot more cunning than her ferocious appearance suggested.

“I didn’t know you were a fellow [Griffin Rider],” Kairos admitted. “I was quite surprised when I saw your mount.”

“I feel more at home on land or on a ship’s deck,” Queen Teuta replied with a smile, “but the world is beautiful from above, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, Ebon has been a loyal companion long before I learned to ride him.”

“And unlike the silly baby here,” the black griffin glared at Rook, “I grew to my size naturally.”

“Pff, you’re just jealous of my [Legend] swagger!” Rook wagged his serpentine tail at his fellow avian. “Boo! Boo, I said!”

“You are a foolish child!” the black griffin replied, struggling to find a better answer.

Kairos and Teuta watched their mounts mock each other with amusement, before locking eyes with each other. Though both were safe from the other so far, a rift of wariness remained between them.

“Shall we follow after the pride?” Kairos asked, as the other hunters chasing the serpopards became nothing more than shadows on the horizon.

“That can wait,” the pirate queen replied. “You wanted to discuss terms, and here I am.”

She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. Good. Kairos had his fill of court etiquette. “Why do you work with Mithridates? Your dalliance with him is pretty much the only thing that stands between us becoming friends.”

“Just like your alliance with Lyce bothers me,” she countered. “Perhaps you will remember that our ancestors fled Lyce, rather than the Thessalan League?”

“It happened many years ago, and we have to move on.”

“I won’t,” Teuta replied harshly. “I can’t. I have rescued too many slaves bound to Lyce’s mines to close my eyes.”

“If I remember, Mithridates’ galley ships are also rowed by slaves. Yet you allied with him.”

“True,” Teuta conceded his point, “but his ambitions are limited to his own country. He wants a world of nations powerful enough to defend their borders, but not strong enough to invade others. Lyce wants to expand and one day they will turn their eyes towards us. We have avoided their notice so far because Travia is poor and the Thessalan League is a juicer target, but their greed knows no bound.”

“I understand that,” Kairos replied. His brother-in-law Sertorius had made no secret that he wanted his family to rule supreme over the Sunsea. “Which is why it is better to form an alliance with them while we still can.”

“Alliances last only as long as those who make them. You married a powerful Lycean family and allied with the likes of Dispater, but what will happen in five generations, when these bonds have dimmed?” Teuta shook her head before glancing at the vibrant sun. The strong dry wind had chased all clouds from the Valian skies, turning it into a blue, limitless expanse. “Your grandson might find himself with a powerful Lycean Republic under the influence of another clan at his doorstep.”

“It’s a possibility,” Kairos agreed. “Which is why I’m trying to reinforce Travia now, by conquering more land, gaining more wealth, and developing our army.”

“That is my goal as well.” Queen Teuta examined her rival closely. “I get the feeling we seek the same end, but we disagree on the methods. You’re using Lyce’s resources to strengthen yourself, as I am doing with Mithridates’ funds.”

As Kairos had suspected, her alliance with the Poison King was purely transactional. Teuta assisted him to check Lyce’s growing power and so he would fund her campaigns.

The Foresight’s captain thought this opened possibilities of a reconciliation, but unfortunately, something else stood in the way. “Yet you joined his [Pantheon],” he pointed out. “This implies a closer bond.”

Teuta laughed. “Only fools trust Mithridates without guarantees. You learned that to your cost.”

Kairos didn’t need to be reminded of the Orthia debacle. It still shamed him to think of it. “So you joined his [Pantheon] to avoid a potential betrayal?”

“In a way. The fact his [Pantheon]’s goal stands as an anti-Lyce alliance is a bonus.”

“It does make us natural enemies, however.”

“Not necessarily.” Teuta examined her rival head to toe, like a predator seizing up another. “I have a proposal to make. One that could prevent a conflict between us.”

Kairos frowned in skepticism. He did hope to prevent a Travian civil war between them, but though she pretended otherwise, he could tell their long-term interests didn’t align all that well. He wanted to form strong alliances with countries like Lyce, while she wanted to pursue a more aggressive approach to international politics.

But still, it cost nothing to listen. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Set your Lycean wife aside and let us marry,” Teuta declared. “We can unite our claims, set this foreign war aside, and rule Travia together.”

Kairos blinked in surprise. He had expected many things, but a marriage proposal wasn’t one of them. Is she serious? he thought as he examined her. Yet Kairos didn’t detect any hint of deception in her grey eyes.

“Do you fancy me?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Since when did attraction have anything to do with politics?” Teuta asked, though she did look at him in a playful way. “You are not unattractive, but it is the king I would marry, not the man. As things stand, we backed different horses in a foreign conflict because we’re both looking out for allies and resources. But if we join forces, I believe we can stand on our own.”

On the surface, her proposal made sense. They were both powerful [Heroes] close enough in age to have children together, and Travians to the bone. With their resources, a match could unify their country under their rule. They hadn’t made inviolable oaths to participate in the inevitable Thessalan war, and though it would cost them alliances, they could in theory sit it out the way Vali’s king intended to.

In theory.

“I already have a wife, and a concubine,” Kairos pointed out. “And my ‘Lycean wife’ as you call her, is pregnant with my child.”

“Truly?” Teuta frowned. “That’s unfortunate, but personal feelings shouldn’t matter in a political union.”

“It does matter to me,” Kairos replied firmly. He had made vows, and though he originally married her for power, he had grown attached to Julia. “Besides, she is protected by a marriage contract. I cannot divorce her as easily as you think.”

Teuta didn’t hide her disappointment, but Kairos could sense that she had expected such an answer. “I worried as much.”

“Though I am allowed to keep concubines,” Kairos said, though he had no intention of going through with it. He simply wanted to gauge Teuta’s reaction, and she didn’t disappoint.

“I will not play second string to a Lycean,” Teuta shot the idea down with an angry scowl. “What I suggest is a union of equals, not subordination.”

Well, Kairos hadn’t truly been serious about it either. Andromache already suffered when he married Julia for a political advantage, and he couldn’t bear the thought of putting her through that again.

In truth, Kairos had wanted to see what mattered the most to Teuta, and as he expected, she was as ambitious as he was. Though she cared for her people, she wanted to become their queen just as much. She wouldn’t sacrifice everything for peace.

“In any case, I don’t think we can truly sit out this war,” Kairos replied. “Not at this point, and especially not now that Zama has made a blood oath of revenge against me.”

“I can use my [Pantheon] privileges to stop him, if I take you under my protection,” Teuta said. “We have methods to resolve conflicts peacefully as fellow members. I can still do so.”

If you submit to my rule, was left unsaid.

“An alliance of equals, you said.” Kairos considered Teuta’s words, trying to gain a better grasp on her motives. “Suppose, hypothetically, that I would set aside my crown and recognize you as Travia’s queen so long as you abandon Mithridates.”

Her eyes squinted in skepticism. She didn’t buy it. “You would do that?”

“Hypothetically, what would happen afterward? What would be your vision of the future in that scenario?”

To her credit, she considered his question thoughtfully rather than brush it off. “I would unify all the free captains of Travia under my command, forming a single fleet,” Teuta explained. “With so many ships under my command, I will be able to project real power towards other nations. I will have them open their ports to us for trade by force if necessary, and harass Lyce’s shipments.”

Kairos knew this would only result in provoking the Republic and a devastating conflict, but let her continue. Teuta saw farther than most Travian warlords in that she wanted to develop trade and alliances with the likes of the Thessalan League, but in the end, she pursued the same politics that drove their nation to poverty: piracy actions against Lyce, taking mercenary jobs on behalf of foreign powers, and sticking to their barren rock of an island rather than colonizing more land.

“And when you die?” Kairos asked. “Supposing you survive all the way to old age?”

“The captains will elect another leader,” Teuta replied with a shrug. “This is the foundation of our culture.”

“Or more likely your confederation will fracture into rival pirate warlords, as Travian alliances always did in the past,” Kairos replied. “And that’s my real problem with you, Teuta. You think we pursue the same end through different methods, but you’re mistaken. I want to unify Travia under a single, lasting government with a clear line of succession and an assembly. Even if it means sacrificing some of our freedoms for stability.”

Teuta glared at him as if he had blasphemed. “Our ancestors founded Travia to become free men and women.”

“One’s freedom stops being that of others,” Kairos replied. “And currently, the freedom of Travian individuals gets in the way of our common prosperity as a united people. We can’t go back to zero each time a charismatic leader isn’t here to lead us.”

“Loyalty should be earned, Kairos,” Teuta replied. “I wouldn’t bow down to a leader I don’t agree with.”

“Then I can’t trust you not to put your personal interests above those of the group.” Kairos sighed. “I know it’s intoxicating, to do whatever you want. But shared prosperity requires compromise.”

“I am offering a compromise right now.”

“But not one that will last.” Kairos shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get behind your vision.”

“Then we are at an impasse.” Queen Teuta let out a long, heavy sigh. “A shame. I do appreciate you, Kairos. Few of us Travians have done even half of what you achieved, and I would rather have you at my side than at the vanguard of an enemy army.”

“I feel the same,” Kairos replied. “But as things stand, one of us will either submit to the other or perish.”

“And it won’t be me.” Realizing that they had each said their piece, Queen Teuta seized her griffin’s reins. “I give you until the end of our stay in Vali to reconsider, Kairos. Afterward, we will speak with steel rather than words.”

She flew away to catch up with the hunting party, and Kairos followed afterward.

Neither of them spoke a word to the other for the rest of the day.

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The chase lasted well into the sunset, until Vali’s royal family decided to call it quits for the moment.

The first day of the hunt had gone well, with Cassandra and Prince Hadad both slaying one beast. Even better, Princess Anat’s sha had briefly glimpsed at a white serpopard while scouting the savannah. Vali’s nobility considered the appearance of such a rare beast as a good sign, and Prince Hadad swore to claim its pelt for himself.

“Such a shame neither my mentor nor your lady Scylla could join us, King Kairos,” Prince Hadad complained, as he and his guest went on a nightly stroll around the camp alongside his sisters. The heir to Vali’s crown never moved alone, and always insisted on having his family around whenever Kairos begged for a moment of his time.

“They were busy,” Kairos replied, as they passed by Valian servants raising tents on the dry, arid soil. Nessus had remained in Ugarit to recruit mercenaries, while Andromache coordinated with Nausicaa to gather information on Zama. The Travians wanted to know where he lived, what troops he had at his disposal, and at which moment the general would be the most vulnerable.

Kairos was strongly tempted to follow Agron’s plan and assassinate the general before he could regroup with Mithridates. The minotaur had been right, Zama was at his most dangerous when leading an army and couldn’t be allowed to leave Vali with one.

However… While King Philip was alright with seeing his general perish in a foreign war, he might not take it kindly to seeing him assassinated on his own soil. This would make the monarchy look weak and provoke a strong reaction.

I have to think carefully about this, Kairos pondered the problem at hand. Now is not the right time to strike. Not yet.

He didn’t doubt for a second that Zama was planning something similar—his absence at the hunt spoke volumes about his current priorities—and the general had made their feud to the death. If anything, assassinating the [Demigod]’s assassination would be preemptive self-defense.

His artifact will be a problem too, Kairos thought. Zama had used the [Eye of Athena] to learn about his involvement in the destruction of Orichalcos, which implied divination powers. Andromache had promised to investigate this particular device, and to figure out its limits.

“At least the [Skald] came,” Princess Anat said with a smile, glancing at Agron. The minotaur was busy singing a ballad near the campfire, and had gathered quite the audience. Even Queen Teuta had come to listen, exchanging words with Cassandra. No doubt Kairos’ rival was trying to poach his men, but she would be disappointed. He had absolute faith in his crew. “His voice is rough, but he says the words with such passion…”

“I wonder what song he will write by the end of this adventure,” her sister said with a grin. “Though I don’t think it will rival his ballad about your Nemean Lion hunt.”

“Oh?” Kairos raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know he had made one.”

“It was delightful,” Princess Anat confirmed with a nod. “Is it true you offered yourself as bait for the beast?”

“I did, though Rook did most of the work carrying me.”

“Something bothers me though,” Prince Hadad said. “Can’t you pierce the invulnerability of other [Heroes]? If so, then you should have been capable of slaying the beast yourself.”

“You have done your research, Prince Hadad.” The man knew more about Kairos than he let on. “I could have, but I wanted my officer Thales to claim the kill and the [Legend].”

Vali’s royal family looked at him with newfound respect. “It was extremely noble of you,” Princess Asherah said before giving her brother an amused look. “Most would try to hoard the experience and glory for themselves.”

“It was an accident,” the prince replied with a grin. “Besides, if I hadn’t killed that antlion, I would have been one sister short.”

“Is that how you gained your [Legend], Prince Hadad?” Kairos asked with curiosity.

The prince shook his head. “I earned it when I conquered the Isfet tribe. They alone hadn’t submitted to Vali’s authority for generations, and they were led by a powerful sphinx [Hero]. I defeated their troops in battle, bested the beast in a riddle contest—”

“And then she proved a sore loser and tried to kill you anyway?” Kairos guessed with a chuckle.

“It was a male, but yes. He challenged me to single combat using some stupid reasoning about ‘death being life’s final answer.’ Obviously, I won anyway.”

“From your answer, I can tell you had experience with a sphinx,” Princess Anat guessed. To Kairos’ surprise, she brazenly put her arm around his own. “Tell me more, please. I love riddle stories.”

Though Kairos found the physical contact improper—and he was thankful Andromache wasn’t here to see it—he didn’t push the princess away to avoid alienating her. Strangely, neither Prince Hadad nor his other sister made a comment about that.

“Her name is Aglaonice,” Kairos explained with a sigh. “She is… probably the most annoying person I have ever met.”

He explained to them how he had met Aglaonice, though he omitted certain details such as the Necromanteion’s existence or Euryale’s presence on his island. Princess Anat seemed rapturously captivated by his tales, as was Prince Hadad.

A bit too much, in fact.

They’re pumping me for information, Kairos realized. For what purpose? Did they plan to repeat everything to Zama? Or did they pursue some other objective?

Whatever the case, Kairos realized he could turn the situation to his advantage. He remained careful to only present the good side of his crew’s adventures and colony, to make them look more fearsome than they were. With luck, Vali’s royalty would understand that they should ally with Histria rather than Mithridates.

“You have a hydra too?” By now Princess Anat didn’t hide her excitement. “My, I have to visit your menagerie one day! Your island sounds like a [Beastmaster]’s paradise.”

“A shame your minotaur killed that dragon before you could tame it,” Prince Hadad said out of the blue, his smile warm and his eyes calculating.

So he knew. Did his father tell him, or was it Zama? Kairos had begun the day confident that he could make the prince his ally, but now… “Out of everyone on my crew, Agron probably deserves his [Legend] the most. Not everyone is brave enough to climb a giant dragon’s back and kill it. And it was an act of mercy. The merfolk turned their own prince into a monster.”

Thankfully, Vali’s royal family cared more about the Foresight’s crew slaying a giant dragon than the fact it had been a child transformed into a monstrosity.

“You do have a talent for turning allies into powerful [Heroes],” Princess Asherah observed with a smile. “Would you mind inviting me aboard your ship? I’m sure I would return home a [Demigod].”

Kairos responded with a grin of his own. “I always have space for more friends.”

Prince Hadad nodded to himself, before turning to face his sisters. “I’m afraid it’s getting late, and I promised our guest a private talk,” he declared. “You will have to let him go, Anat.”

“For now,” the princess replied, before softly releasing her hold on Kairos’ arm.

The Travian King politely bade the princesses good night, and they left the boys alone to rejoin the others around the campfire. Kairos expected Prince Hadad to invite him for a chat under his own tent, but instead, Vali’s crown heir took him aside outside the camp. The two men sat under a tree and watched the bright night’s sky, and Kairos noticed Rook playfully racing against Anat’s sha around the tents.

“What was that?” Kairos asked his host. “With your sister?”

Prince Hadad ignored the question, and asked one of his own. “Do you have sisters, my friend?”

My friend? Kairos took it as a good sign, though the question wounded him a little. “I had one,” he admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My condolences.” Though the prince sounded genuine, Kairos could tell something else bothered him about the answer. “An aunt then?”

“Cassandra is the closest thing I have to one.”

“But she’s not of your blood, and I see the glances she and your Tiberius exchange. Are they engaged?”

“Not yet,” Kairos said, before raising an eyebrow. “I have a mother, if we’re reviewing all my female relatives.”

“She must be a powerful and graceful lady. Considering you are an adult, though, I assume she’s past her childbearing years.”

Kairos locked eyes with the prince. “These are not innocent questions, are they?”

“Of course not.” The prince joined his hands together in a pose that his guest found strikingly similar to King Philip’s. “I know what you want to talk about, King Kairos.”

“I thought your father’s concubines couldn’t speak our language?”

Prince Hadad blinked in genuine surprise, to Kairos’ delight. “How do you know?”

“I didn’t. I made an elaborate guess, and you confirmed my suspicions with your reaction.” Kairos looked at the pale crescent moon above them. “I assume your father doesn’t know that tidbit either. He wouldn’t have let them listen to the audience otherwise.”

“You are the perfect [Rogue], King Kairos,” Prince Hadad said with a sigh. “Indeed. It is I who fetched my father’s youngest concubine, and I selected someone with knowledge of multiple languages without his knowledge.”

He had planted a spy right in his father’s bedroom. “It’s a dangerous game,” Kairos noted. “Why is she playing it?”

“My father is old and with health problems,” the prince confessed. “When he perishes in a few years, I will take her for myself and rule out in favor of her tribe on some matters. They’re a cunning lot, my Valians. Always scheming and feuding. It’s a delicate balancing act to keep them united for a fortnight.”

So he was already preparing his own succession and keeping watch on his sire’s decisions. “Then you know what I offered to your father.”

“I do. In fact, between us, I was already considering conquering the Thessalan League myself.”

Kairos’ head snapped in his host’s direction. “You are?”

Prince Hadad nodded, his eyes full of cunning. “Vali is nominally at peace, but it is a precarious one. The tribes are always feuding against each other, and I’ve grown sick of stamping out disputes or managing their egos. So I figured out an alternative.”

“Unite them against a common enemy?” Kairos guessed.

“Exactly. Besides gaining access to more fertile lands than the barren soil of our home, the tribes’ troops and mercenaries would grow weaker fighting abroad. This would give me more leeway to build a centralized army and bureaucracy.”

The more he heard, the more Kairos thought he was listening to a double of himself. His strategy was frighteningly similar to what the Travian King was doing at home. Though Vali was commercially richer than Travia, it suffered from the same problems: lack of arable lands, overpopulation, and too many factions struggling to cooperate effectively.

“I carefully considered potential targets,” Hadad explained, “but Lyce and Alexandria are too powerful, Achlys was protected by a powerful curse until recently and might reactivate it…”

“And Travia?” Kairos asked, his voice turning cold.

Hadad exploded in laughter. “Your lands are barely more fertile than ours! And frankly, I wouldn’t bet against you. Orthia, Achlys, Orichalcos… you devastated every country who crossed you. Vali won’t join that list, if I have a say in it.”

“Even if it means alienating your star general?”

Prince Hadad’s expression harshened. “General Zama taught me military strategy, and I would rather that we stay friends. However, my throne will never be secure if one of my generals can do whatever he wants. His attempt to influence our international politics and join a foreign power’s [Pantheon] bothers me. My father is too overconfident; with Mithridates’ support, Zama could make the monarchy his puppet show. That won’t happen.”

This was going way better than expected. “So you will ally with us against him?” Kairos asked, praying for a yes.

Hadad smiled the way his father Philip did. “I told you back then, King Kairos. I will choose the best offer.”

“What more would you want?” Doubt gnawed at Kairos’ mind. “What did Mithridates offer your father that I didn’t?”

“He proposed to marry one of my sisters to seal a military alliance, and give the other to his Orthian ally Antipater. My father said no military support, true… but the idea of having his grandsons sit on foreign thrones does appeal to him. And why do you think Teuta came by herself to plead her ally’s cause? She asked me for a private meeting too.”

Kairos clenched his fists.

That cunning little… She had made him a marriage proposal while offering another to a foreign prince? Had Teuta even been genuine, or simply dangled a hook in front of Kairos to try and undermine his alliance with Lyce?

“You do realize Mithridates will use your sisters as hostages the moment they arrive in his court, and force Vali to support him regardless?” Kairos warned the prince. “He has no qualms murdering children or backstabbing allies if he can gain an advantage.”

“It’s a possibility, but I understand my father’s reasoning. I am unmarried, and so are my sisters. Alliances built on gold and shared ambitions don’t last half as long as those bound by blood.”

“You must have gotten along well with Sertorius, when he was an ambassador.”

“I did,” Prince Hadad confirmed. “Which is why your proposal of a long-term alliance interests me. We are all young and ambitious men with the will to change things. My father and Mithridates would rather keep things as they are, but the likes of us? We can rule the Sunsea.”

“Rule the Sunsea?” Kairos couldn’t help but choke at his sheer audacity.

“Why not?” Prince Hadad replied with passion. “If we want to become [Gods] one day, we will have to conquer like gods. If you want to reach the moon, aim for the stars. Maybe we’ll fail, or maybe we’ll succeed. But the world will remember that we tried.”

If anything, Kairos found his boundless optimism refreshing. His offer, though… “What kind of blood alliance are you looking for? We can’t exactly marry each other.”

Prince Hadad glanced at his sister’s sha, who had lost his race against Rook.

“No,” the Travian king declared upon putting the two and two together. “I already have a wife, I will not set her aside.”

“Why would I ask you to? My father has dozens of concubines, and you have one. Certainly you could have a second.” When Kairos refused to answer, Prince Hadad watched his expression closely. “My friend, we are not discussing as fellow human beings. We are two nations negotiating about their future. The desires of a few shouldn’t weigh in the balance.”

“They do,” Kairos said, thinking of Andromache. “I find your sisters good company, Prince, but… I already love someone else, and she won’t take it well. She might even kill her romantic rivals.”

“I understand this kind of arrangement can be… difficult,” Hadad said with a sigh. “My father’s harem is a cesspool of intrigue. I imagine an angry Scylla is a terrifying threat, which is why I asked if you had a free female relative. It would have neatly solved the problem, but alas, this is not to be.”

He hadn’t changed his mind, to Kairos’ puzzlement. “You would risk your sisters’ life?”

“They would be endangered if they were shipped to Mithridates anyway, and Anat and Asherah are not as defenseless as you think.”

This couldn’t end well. “Prince Hadad, I’m sorry but no,” Kairos refused the proposal. “There has to be another way. Maybe someone else—”

“I am open to suggestions if you have an alternative proposal, King Kairos, but make no mistake.” Vali’s crown prince looked at the distant stars, raising a hand as if he could reach them. “If you haven’t offered a match I can get behind by the time your stay in Vali ends, you’ll find my door closed.”

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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons.