Sharp as ever. The emperor, as always, wore a dagger-like gaze and a smile that curved like a sabre. Provenance took it as a sign of intrigue by His Majesty; a sign he was at least doing some things right.

"To think this is what my treasury was going towards," he said, praising from his throne in an empty, echoing throne room. "Bravo, my friend. Bravo."

Provenance quietly bowed in response. "I wouldn't dream of wasting your generosity, Your Majesty. The sympathisers in Geverde await your court's demands. Assuming all goes well, your Geverdian problem will be out by the end of the week."

"And you with it, my friend," the emperor asked, standing and languidly venturing down the steps towards where Provenance stood, a respectful distance from the throne. "I will miss your services greatly."

The tassels hanging from his epaulettes swayed across his shoulders with every step as a cloud of thin perfume preceded him, wrapping Provenance in its grasp. The emperor was close enough to whisper now.

"As will my empress miss your friendship, seeing how close you've gotten over time."

"I apologise for any inconvenience my abrupt departure might cause. I'm afraid if I stay any longer, I will only be a further drain on your resources."

"Investment, Provenance. I prefer the word investment." He patted Provenance's shoulder as though they were friends working through shared sorrow. "An heir placated my court to an extent, but your work over these past few years has been the final nail in the coffin that's made them finally cease their bickering."

The emperor strolled away again, this time to a grazing platter that had arrived just behind Provenance, although he hadn't paid attention to it at all before then. He had his favourites, fingers all but diving for a ribbon of cured meat curled into a flower.

"I have grown stronger. Geverde has grown weaker. You've upheld your side of our arrangement and then some. I only hope we made it worthwhile for you."

"Seeds have been sown," Provenance admitted, well aware that not all the treasury's money he'd spent had serviced its lender. He'd dedicated plenty to be fertiliser for said seeds.

He knew where the conversation was headed—their relationship was a symbiotic one, and both parties had too much to lose in seeing it end. Provenance hated to admit that somebody had gained so much leverage on him, but capital ruled supreme at the end of the day. Those resources had shaved countless years of work away month after month.

"But a deal is a deal, and my seat of power would mean nothing if I didn't keep my word."

The emperor smiled at him, faking notes of melancholy in his otherwise sinister expression. "You were always a free spirit, my friend. It never felt right to hold you for so long. I hope you can forgive me."

The emperor's choice of words irked Provenance. His 'friend' had chosen the combative path. Their relationship was indeed symbiotic—both sides gained to benefit from each other, and both sides had more they wanted from one another. It was a matter of who would admit it first.

The emperor returned to his throne, signalling the end of his conversation, leaving the ball squarely on Provenance's side of the court.

Returning to a life before Vesmos's resources would feel as though the years were slowing to decades, doubly so if it meant missing his chance to find his holy grail.

"I may have found a lead to the Spirit of Destruction."

The abruptness of his announcement caught the emperor off-guard halfway up the short flight of stairs. He turned, the sinister smile growing only wider. He said nothing, leaving the floor open for Provenance to keep talking, which he did, rather reluctantly.

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"A Witch in Geverde…she seems to exhibit similar qualities to those recorded in the Resonances. I can't be sure if…if it is her, but it may lead to Tetrica herself."

Once again, the emperor continued his silence, waiting for Provenance to get to the point both parties knew was inevitable. But in the end, if the emperor refused to be the one to say it, Provenance would have to swallow his pride instead.

"I request a brief visit to Geverde to confirm this. I believe the pressure of this recent situation will draw out the person in question. If, on my return, I think this Witch is who I am looking for, I may need the assistance…your assistance once again, Your Highness."

Provenance hung his head in feigned reverence, just thankful that the words were finally out of his mouth. "This arrangement has been beneficial for both of us. I hope it may continue."

The emperor watched him, still not daring to even let a modicum of satisfaction trickle into his expression. That simple mocking, knowing smile was all Provenance could get.

"I can't agree more, my friend. Some amendments to our agreement aside, you're always a welcome guest."

Provenance bowed deeply, the full-stop to a fruitful but deeply uncomfortable conversation.

Leverage. Permanence. Loyalty. Anymore risk than he already shouldered, and he'd be a dead man walking. Yes, by every calculation he was overextending himself, and when the finish line was little more than a hazy blotch of colour in the distance too.

But perhaps the worst part of it all, the part that even to himself he could not bear to admit, was that the flash of a smile played through his head at the thought of an indefinite extension to his stay. He could recognise that smile now, clearer than perhaps any other smile.

It was Fanreth's. It was his friend's.

"Yes, and you remind them that there is no court without a Queen. If they want to keep their literal heads, then they'll damn well tell us exactly who was in that apartment."

Elvera finally felt the plastic shell of her telephone splitting apart down the middle. Slamming the receiver was a nasty habit of hers that the dire situation had only seemed to accentuate.

The Queen was dead. For anybody who cared little about the underlying social fabric of society and whatnot, that made every inch of land between Geverde's borders technically lawless, and Elvera was prepared to take advantage of that lawlessness at every turn. Bankson Private Security was facing a company-crushing failure; they'd collapse at the slightest bit of pressure, anyway.

It felt thrilling, perhaps in the most morbid way possible.

The former queen's forest was now in shambles; a broken mess of a world that Al, or rather King Alphonse, could only hope to piece back together once he fully ascended. And perhaps in a terrible stroke of luck, the only aspect of it that had stayed consistent was its altered time—a feature of the space itself, rather than the former queen's influence upon it. She could sense another slew of university theses churning off of the basis of that one fact.

In any sense, that left any search parties looking for evidence facing the same fundamental problem that came with any direct visit to the Queen. But where Federal Police investigators were chained to convenient, unionised work hours, Elvera's men were no strangers to days-long expeditions. This was the corner they'd finally get ahead.

Although how much that mattered was up for debate. The Queen was dead; her body still lost. That was as great a win as any, and her enemy's sights were probably already elsewhere. Just where that was, was still a complete mystery that only speculation could answer.

The telephone rang once more, its shrill shriek shocking her out of her mental roundabout. She answered it in just as swift a motion as she had slammed it down only minutes before.

"Talk to me," she said, at this point unconcerned with who the information was coming from.

"Bankson cracked. It feels like they were pretty much ready to hand over any documents they had once they realised who was asking."

"Good," Elvera said. "Good."

"The apartment belonged to a Rayak Silverlink, a Featherfoot from Treyatas. The company appointed Last Name. Came in with the regular flow of refugees but went missing about a month ago. Sounds like our suspect."

"But Bankson cracked easily?"

"They were cooperative. The suspect matches the cover the feds gave us, so it could be another ruse, but the team and I will keep prodding. Gut feeling is that Bankson is just as much the victim. They haven't the motive."

That about summarised Elvera's feelings on the matter too. Means were fulfilled, sure, perhaps more than anybody in the country, but Bankson only stood to profit from a successful night, and only in the unlikely case a rogue board-member had turned the entire outfit into a militia would she ever see them having reason to commit regicide.

No, this was somebody else. Somebody who was still at large.

"Thank you. Get on it," she said as she made a conscious effort to place the receiver down on the telephone gently.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel yet. Elvera couldn't be so sure there'd ever be, but the road to lighting a lantern in the meantime was becoming clearer.

She just needed to pin the right person. One miss, however small, and Geverde's second monarch could disappear only mere moments after the first.

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