They looked awed. The horse was at least two times larger than he needed, and he could imagine how ridiculous his own slight frame would look mounted on such a tremendous animal, but the people he passed in the streets looked awed nonetheless, and at no less a person than Zirane Delamarque himself. The guttersnipe.

He smiled. The throng of people in the streets parted before him, him and the two columns of six Blue Knights - his Blue Knights - as he rode down towards the gates of the city. He wondered in how many of the alley's he passed on his pretty white horse he'd squatted as a child, and picked through the garbage for something to eat. That didn't matter, not anymore.

The gates of Rockaxe opened before him, and he rode out of the city. A rider on a somewhat less ostentatious horse and clad in armour with no visible insignia, rode to meet him, accompanied by two likewise attired young soldiers. The leader, an older man of grizzled countenance, raised one hand and spurred his horse to a canter as Zirane and his column passed beneath the gate. Zirane reined his horse in and ordered the column to a halt as the man approached him.

"Captain Mott?" he asked as the older man approached him. Two brown eyes regarded Zirane from a chiseled, weatherbeaten face surrounded by a mane of black hair shot through at the temples with silver. The eyes were ready, alert, watching.

Laughing, a little. Zirane didn't care to fathom at what, so long as it was not him.

"I am," he replied, saluting. "You must be Lord Miklotov."

Zirane cocked an eyebrow. "You've been misinformed, Captain Mott. I am Zirane Delamarque, the new commander of the Blue Knights. Lord Miklotov is currently under suspicion of treason, and has been removed from his post until such time as the truth of his actions can be ascertained."

"Ah," Mott replied, nodding. "You're an intermediary, then. Lead on."

Zirane didn't move. "I beg your pardon, Captain Mott, but I am Commander of the Blue."

Mott cocked his head and regarded Zirane oddly for a moment. "Of course you are. I meant no offense."

Zirane snorted slightly through his nostrils, and wheeled his horse. Mott rode beside him as he escorted him and his two underlings into the city. The gates closed behind them.

Gorudo heard the doorway open behind him, then shut. He could hear behind him the creak of Dayne's leather armour, the shifting of his sword against his hip, and those sounds were disturbingly familiar, foremost in his memory. He worked to put them away.

"Captain Mott," he acknowledged, pouring a glass of wine.

"Your boy Zirane is insecure, Gray," Dayne's voice returned. Gorudo poured the wine and did not reply. After a moment, Dayne sighed. "Gorudo."

"Zirane will grow into his armour, as we did." Gorudo turned, and regarded Dayne in the light coming through his window. "As I did, at any rate."

"But," Dayne replied with a faint chuckle, "what did you have to give up? You look well, Gorudo, all things considered."

"You, as well," Gorudo replied. Then, grudgingly, "It's good to see you again, Dayne." He indicated two chairs that stood before the fire, where a faint ember still lingered, and sat down in the nearest one.

"Please, sit."

"I was surprised to receive your missive, Gorudo," Dayne replied, seating himself, "after all this time. I left my company camped north of Greenhill, but they're ready to mobilize. Do you need them, Gorudo? Is that what this is about?"

Gorudo sipped his wine. "In part, at least. You know everything that's been going on, and the implications, of course?"

"That's my job. What's your point?"

"Within a month's time, I'm going to be heading for Muse. With the Highland invasion eminent, it's only a matter of time before Anabelle calls another Hilltop conference, and I'll be damned if I'm going to leap and dance at that woman's call."

"It's comforting to know that some things never change."

"I want you to come with me, Dayne. I have plans, important works...and I'm not certain I can handle them myself."

Dayne leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That is surprising. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me, not anymore."

"To be honest? I don't. But I need someone competent, and I think I can even depend on you, up to a point."

"What about your new Commanders? This Zirane?"

"Hmph. You said it yourself, Dayne...he's insecure. He has potential, enormous potential, but he needs to be given time to grow into it; it, and what it will require of him. These are dangerous times, and Zirane has no such luxury...he will have to learn by doing. He will be accompanying me to Muse, at least."

"And you want me to come with you, as well? To do what? Teach your whelp how to do his job?"

"In part. I may also need assurances of my safety that only someone with your skills can provide. There are some arts my Knights are not trained in, Dayne...as you well know."

"I do, at that. I'll make you a deal, Gorudo...for old time's sake, I'll come as far as Muse, but my company stays where it is. When we get back, we'll talk some more, and see where that takes us. And for once, Gorudo...I'll need to be in your confidence."

"That can be arranged." Gorudo rose and took up two glasses of wine from where he'd set them, and passed one across to Dayne. "We'll drink to it, Dayne. For however long it lasts." Dayne rose, and tapped his glass against Gorudo's. "To Martin Resh. His memory lives on in us."

Gorudo hesitated. "To Martin Resh. Let us not repeat his mistakes."

Dayne looked into Gorudo's eyes and saw no apology. "You truly haven't changed a bit, have you?"

"Some things don't need changing."