“Do you want us to sleep a couple of hours?” Vincent asked Ronan, surprised.

  They’d both returned to the village in the cave network, on the same skeleton stag mount, only this time the gallop wasn’t as fast and full of jumps. Something the prince definitely appreciated.

  “Yes. I know where their settlement is, and I would like to arrive shortly before dawn. My intention is for them to surrender without fighting.”

  “Shouldn’t it be to eliminate the creatures that attacked the village? To prevent them from doing it again. Besides, they were once dungeon creatures. The right thing is to finish them off.”

  Ronan looked the prince in the eyes; brown irises fixed on his friend’s golden ones. He tilted his head in a gesture he’d observed in both Bianca and her pup, and was unconsciously copying.

  “Are you saying that for the experience points? You are the second prince. You can access all the dungeons you want.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s for the kingdom’s security.”

  “Future husband of my lady, I understand that you are worried about the people of Clearhaven. I am too. In fact, we are going there to prevent them from attacking the village again. It is curious that I am the one saying this, but killing them does not have to be the solution. Creatures that flee the control and influence of their dungeon’s core develop. They discover something they did not have before: free will. They form settlements if they wish and are no longer mere experience containers subjugated to a dungeon’s will. Orcs, goblins… they are not so different from a human village. They simply have more feral instincts. And a different size. And green skin.”

  “Ronan, first, don’t call me that. It’s weird enough that you call Bianca ‘my lady’ without extending it to me now.”

  “Understood?” he repeated insistently, since the necromancer wasn’t answering.

  “Alright,” Ronan finally said after considering it for almost a full minute. “I understand.”

  “Good. Second, that way you have—or you and Bianca have—of relating to beings that until now I didn’t even know spoke our language is groundbreaking. Seriously, it never would have occurred to me that they were anything more than aggressive, territorial creatures that had escaped from a dungeon, settled down, and needed to be exterminated to prevent them from decimating our populations near them.”

  “I think Mary would say we need to keep an open mind and a heart free of prejudice.”

  Vincent narrowed his eyes for a moment. Sure, Mary would say that, but... why was Ronan quoting her? Alistair would say “burn them all,” and he wasn’t using his argument.

  Besides, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard him talk about Mary like that, out of nowhere.

  “Mary has a great affinity for light. I find it curious that you have her so much in mind and that your goals seem so aligned.”

  “Mary is good, my lady too,” he replied, slightly embarrassed. “There is no reason to exterminate a people if we can ensure they will not attack us. Besides, they will also be useful.”

  Vincent sighed and began removing his armor pieces. The campfire was still burning, and the furs he’d lain on before were spread out beside it.

  “Fine, Ronan. I’ll go with you in a few hours. Let this serve as training for me, to see if I can get some sleep. That thing about them being useful—I can’t wait for Bianca to arrive so the three of us can meet and you can tell me exactly what they’ll be useful for.”

  “Would it not be better if you discussed it in private?”

  The prince set his gauntlets on the ground next to his sword and shield and began unbuckling his breastplate. It was easier when his valet helped.

  “No way. You’re involved in this, and you’re not getting out of explaining things to me.”

  “Very well, future husb... Vincent.”

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  “Aren’t you sleeping?” he asked, seeing Ronan start to turn away instead of approaching his furs.

  “There are some orders I want to give in person to my friends.”

  “Then I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  As he finished removing his breastplate, Vincent watched his friend leave the cave. He probably wanted to talk to the bone dragon. If he intended for those orcs to surrender, he’d need more than just making a grand entrance with the sunrise. Dragons, yetis, giant ants... Yes, he definitely had what was necessary. But if he didn’t kill them and raise them as undead, he lacked a way to ensure the orcs’ loyalty—that they wouldn’t betray and attack him.

  As a prince, he’d seen the pedestal his father had in one of the halls of his private quarters. There, as through the stone slabs, the system spoke.

  There had been a time when the system was associated with the gods, but that belief had been discarded once all forms of interaction with them were forbidden and the system artifacts continued functioning regardless.

  Because of that, Vincent knew the vassalages of the kingdom’s nobles to his father were not binding. Any of them could betray the crown, even send an assassin, and nothing would happen to them. They would not fall ill. They would not die.

  His father had once told him that long ago, during the great wars against the demon kings, human emperors had emerged whose vassalage contracts were binding. Their vassals couldn’t even attempt betrayal because their bodies simply wouldn’t respond. And if the urge to break the contract was strong enough, it ended in sudden death. There were suspicions that something similar existed on the opposing side as well.

  Vincent had seen that Convergence had its own pedestal. A simpler one, but unmistakable. The implications were chilling. If binding contracts could be formed there with those orcs, combined with the warning from the divine beast of light’s emissary, it could only mean one thing.

  The demon king was approaching. Another great war was coming.

  And Bianca—his betrothed, the young woman with six affinities, five elemental and one unheard of, spirit—was she meant to become the next empress, uniting the human kingdoms against evil?

  He set the breastplate next to the other metal pieces and moved on to the greaves.

  But in that case, there were two things he didn’t like.

  The first, his brother. If she was going to be the empress, shouldn’t she marry the crown prince?

  The second, the goblins and those orcs. Why would creatures historically associated with the demon king fight alongside the chosen one of good?

  Was his beloved’s influence so great that she was capable of even conquering the hearts of monsters?

  It seemed to Vincent that he’d just closed his eyes when Ronan woke him.

  “Come on. Gear up. Everything is ready.”

  A female goblin handed him some bread and a bowl of stewed meat for breakfast.

  “Didn’t you sleep?” he asked Ronan.

  “I’ll sleep tomorrow.”

  Vincent, who still considered the necromancer to have a low constitution despite no longer seeing him as frail, could not help noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

  What if his parents—who had apparently kept him locked in a basement—had never taught him even the most basic habits?

  “If you have high wisdom, you need less sleep. But unless you raise your constitution, a sleepless night will catch up with you.”

  In fact, Vincent himself would have liked to sleep longer.

  “Do not worry. I am working on raising my constitution.”

  The truth was, for a mage, Ronan put a surprising amount of effort into mastering the sword and mace. Was that his plan? If so, pack mule mastery might suit him better.

  Though Vincent had seen him carrying heavy packs more than once.

  “Alright, Ronan, I’ll finish this quickly and we’ll go. Aren’t you eating?”

  “I already had breakfast. I will wait for you outside.”

  When Vincent stepped out a few minutes later, he found the same stag as before and a mass of creatures filling the space up to the edge of the forest.

  Yetis. Wolves. Birds of prey. Bears. Ants. Trolls. Goblins.

  Only the last were alive.

  Ronan also had female bears and bear cubs, but they were nowhere to be seen. Vincent figured he didn’t want to put them at risk.

  But something was missing, wasn’t it?

  The prince looked up at the sky. The dragon, however, wasn’t flying overhead but perched on a rocky ledge above them, flames glowing in her empty eye sockets as she watched.

  Vincent felt small again. Standing before his friend’s forces made it painfully clear that even his father’s army would struggle against something like this. Especially with the yetis, the dragon, and that area exhaustion spell Ronan had mastered. And as long as he had mana or potions, there would be no casualties among his troops.

  It was insane.

  Necromancers in recent centuries had strict limits on how many creatures they could control. But Ronan… Ronan seemed to ignore them all.

  For one thing, he was young. He still had levels to gain, spells to refine, masteries to develop. And yet he commanded a bone dragon that could even speak to him.

  “Are you okay, Vincent? You look pale.”

  “Yes, Ronan. I’m ready. Just say when and I’ll mount up and we’ll go.”

  The path would be steep. Snowy. Avalanches were possible.

  Who cared?

  If Vincent was certain of anything, it was that they would reach the orc settlement without tiring their mounts.

  He had seen skeletons felling trees near the cave. Lumberjacks who didn’t tire, didn’t charge, and didn’t eat.

  There was definitely a lot he was looking forward to discussing with his betrothed and the necromancer she’d taken under her wing—like those goblins she had also taken in.

  He had no doubt that, like many light mages, Bianca was far too kind for her own good. He would make sure that none of those dungeon creatures could ever betray or harm her.

  He had to protect the woman he loved.

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