Time, as Clementine explains to Patrick once they exit a door right outside Leif's castle, is completely relative to where one is. Closer to the fae realm, time passes faster. Closer to the underworld, it passes slower. The Middle is somewhere, well, in the middle, relative to the two. So, when they leave Clementine's road, Patrick is shocked to be notified that a couple days have passed when it's only felt like a few hours.

This time of year, Wiceliwen is snowy, and several people out in town are shoveling snow out of the roads to make for easier travel. Wiceliwen doesn't snow as much as Vaenyth, so Patrick's been told. Apparently, a few bucketfuls of snow doesn't count as a lot when in some places, houses get completely blocked up.

Walking through the village up to the castle makes Patrick feel at home again. It's comforting just in the way it's distressing. Clementine gives him no time to ruminate and keeps a brisk pace as they stride toward the castle.

When the capital of Adaetram was in Wiceliwen, the king lived in this castle. Patrick always thought the two towers were separate buildings, but as it turns out, they're part of a much larger castle and connected in the middle by an enormous stone bridge. It certainly looks grand, and Patrick can imagine it being the home of a king.

Unlike the other castles Patrick's been to, the door on the outermost gate surrounding the inside village was open, though seemed prepared to be shut if need be. Archers are up on the watchtowers when he and Clementine approach the door, but there's no guards outside. Clementine raps her knuckles on the door, which is swiftly answered by a pretty young girl in a gauzy purple dress, unfit for the weather outside, but a gust of warm air upon opening the door indicates inside is much different.

"Good morning. Which one of Leif's pets are you?" Clementine greets breezily, sending the girl a vapid smile.

The girl's nose wrinkles. "Alyssum. Is there something you want?"

Clementine's smile twitches ever so slightly. "Go tell your pretty king that Lady Clementine is here to speak with him."

"As you wish."

Alyssum shuts the door and returns a couple minutes later and informs she will take them to Leif straight away. She leads them down the great hall and through the decorated arches that mark the entryway to the throne room. The whole path is marked by a royal purple rug with tasseled edges. Incense burns on ornamental wall holders, filling the space with a spicy scent.

When they enter the throne room, several men and women are hurrying out the door left of Leif's throne. The man who must be Leif himself, is adjusting the crown on his head, but his rich brown curls stay tossled, almost artfully. He himself, much like the throne room, is shrouded in decadence. His clothes are golden, much like the carpet at the foot of his throne.

An elegant tapestry of a gathering is behind him. Judging by the flowers and foods the people have in it, it's of a Midsummer festival. Above him, sparkling chandeliers lit with candles help brighten the room. Leif spared no expense, that much is clear.

"How professional," Clementine comments upon pausing at the foot of his throne.

"Lady Clementine of the Hoarfrost, how nice it is to see you here. I trust you've been doing well?"

Leif's smile is positively blinding and quite charming, although his posture indicates he wasn't prepared for guests, as he smooths down the collar of his doublet so it lays properly against his golden brown skin.

"A friend of mine was murdered recently," Clementine answers bluntly. "I have been in better moods, if it interests you so. Signe is still here, is she not?"

"She is. Still in bed, I reckon."

"Avoiding the hall, you mean."

Leif laughs and Patrick can't tell if he's genuinely amused or trying to be polite.

"I'll have someone send for her. How long are you staying?"

"Not long, hopefully, but rooms will be a requisite."

"I'll have rooms set up for you then."

"Excellent."

Leif turns his gaze on Patrick and smiles warmly. "And who is the handsome one with you?"

Patrick feels himself start to blush under the intensity of having all the attention on him. He tries to return the smile, but it's not like he's had much practice with talking to nobles. Lady Jocelyn wasn't as daunting to talk to and she certainly never called him handsome.

"Patrick," he says, concisely and elegantly.

"That's all?"

"He's my travelling companion," Clementine interjects, "and he's sworn to me."

"Of course," Leif says and smiles at Patrick once more before sending for someone to go get Signe.

Leif has a table set up for them in the tower Zara, on a small balcony area. Cinnamon tea, hot cakes, and butter are laid out in porcelain dishes on the counter. Though Patrick's already eaten breakfast today, the smell of the hotcakes make his stomach rumble and he can't resist picking at one, which turns into one more. He sips on his tea (which could be better with some sugar), while Clementine tells one of the servants, all of whom are giggly and wonderfully dressed, to go get her some wine.

Signe joins then soon enough, red hair coiffed into an elegant bun, but dressed simply in a dark teal linen skirt and a white blouse with lace accents. She beams when she sees Patrick and hugs him enthusiastically. To Clementine, she gives a half curtsy.

"How far have you gotten with Leif?" Clementine questions as soon as Signe's sat down between them.

Signe frowns, pausing mid movement as she reaches for the dish of butter. "He doesn't want to ally, but he's been kind enough."

Clementine rolls her eyes. "What did Rozenn tell you to say? That it would be beneficial until Alistair is out of the way? 'Then, once you help me get rid of my enemy, I can focus more energy getting rid of you?'"

Signe flushes. "She said they should work together against the same enemy."

Clementine laughs. "And he's not impressed?"

"Unfortunately."

"I'll get her a deal."

"I don't know that- that Lady Rozenn will want to have this deal if it's on your terms."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not here for her. She's too afraid to give him what he wants, but I'm not."

Signe nearly drops her teacup. "You're not going to give him Wiceliwen?"

"I don't see any harm in it."

Signe's composure starts to break and her voice wavers. "Wiceliwen is under all of Adaetram's rule."

"And when the war is done, it won't be."

"What about Morwenna?"

"Well, I think we both can agree she can't be on Adaetram's throne. She has to get out of the picture."

Signe pauses for a tense moment and carefully sets her teacup on the table. "Lady Rozenn isn't going to like this."

"She should have come herself, perhaps even thrown a bribe his way."

Signe goes silent again before settling on, "Leif will not be a good king."

"Perhaps not, but the people like him."

"The townsfolk elsewhere won't. He's too- of the magic people. He's not like them."

"They'll like him well enough when he puts gold in their pockets. He'll run out eventually, and that's where the problems will arise."

"And he'll owe you."

"Yes, he will, won't he?"

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to. You're being loyal to your lady. Go home and leave it at that."

"I think I will stay a little while longer."

"Very well."

Signe gives Patrick a rigid smile before leaving and Clementine seems amused. She pours Patrick some wine into his empty teacup and he sips on it, finds it's much more pleasant than the kind she usually drinks.

"Will he really agree?" Patrick asks.

"He should. All of this should be easy, though I've had to alter some things since Alexei's death." Her nose wrinkles. "The problem will be Mab."

"Because she's more powerful than you?"

"She's not as smart."

Patrick decides it would be a bad idea to bring up the fact Mab is the reason she's exiled, so she's clearly not a complete idiot.

"Let's go bribe a servant," Clementine says abruptly.

That sounds like a bad idea, Patrick thinks, but what he says aloud is, "Okay."

The servant that they corner is called Oscar, who is tall with smooth brown skin and covered in numerous even darker freckles. His eyes are an interesting shade of honey and his face is nice to look upon, pretty, even. Oscar is also, to put it simply, clearly annoyed at being pulled aside, but unfailingly polite.

"What can I do for you, my lady?"

Clementine leans against the wall and she doesn't smile at him, so Patrick schools his face into something more neutral.

"You can tell me what problems there've been," she says.

Oscar shakes his head, puzzled. "Problems?"

Clementine reaches into the pocket of her dark skirt and produces a few silver coins which she hands to him with bejeweled fingers. Oscar takes them cautiously, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Problems," Clementine repeats. "Has there been anything worrying Leif? Threats, money issues, anything interesting?"

To Oscar's credit, he does seem hesitant to say anything, but the prospect of more coin wins out. "Alistair's men have been loitering around the wall in the woods and my king doesn't know if he should have them killed or not."

"Which ones?" Patrick demands.

Clementine glances over at him, but doesn't say anything.

Oscar shrugs. "The magicians, I think. Den said they weren't armed, so it would make sense for it to be them. I don't know anything other than that."

Harrison and Seamus, Patrick thinks. What would they be doing here?

Clementine considers this, then gives Oscar a few more coins, but not without a warning. "You must remember that if it gets out we talked to you, you will not just have to fear wrath from your king."

Oscar nods and closes his fists around the coins. Clementine lets him go, and Oscar disappears down the hallway.

"Who was he talking about?"

"Harrison and Seamus, probably," he tells her.

"Ah, Aithne's cousin, Oliver's trainer. William's trainer. Hmm. I am loathe to say I know not much of them."

"They are magicians," Patrick says helpfully. "I think they're about on Alistair's level, but I don't really know. I never talked to them much. Seamus was okay, but I never liked Harrison. William would know."

"If only he were here to ask."

"What wall was he talking about?"

"Let's go see."

So, Patrick and Clementine go out into the woods in search of the wall that Oscar mentioned. As soon as they breach the line of trees at the bottom of the hill, Clementine pauses for a moment.

"That's an interesting buzz of magic," she mutters and then powers on.

They walk along the hunter's trails then divert to the deer trails when they don't come across anything. Patrick is nervous about walking through the woods in his fancy clothes, but Clementine doesn't seem bothered about the brambles that catch in her skirt or the leaves that fall and tangle in her hair. The ground has turned to mud from the snow and Patrick nearly slips a few times by the time they reach the clearing.

Clementine steps out of the trees with zero hesitation, but Patrick is admittedly a bit more wary. Harrison and Seamus, or even Alistair himself could be here and he'd rather not be recognized. Fortunately, he has his sword on him, and Clementine is sure to be capable of fighting off a few magicians.

In the center of the clearing is a wall, sort of like a castle door way. It's as if someone forgot to build the rest of it and just built the entrance. Snow has gathered in the crenellations at the top, but the mounds are steadily melting and sliding down the crevices in the brickwork. The arch itself lacks any doors and provides a window to the trees on the other side, which are in a perfect semicircular pattern like the ones opposite.

It looks like someone planted those and cleared this out to put that wall there, Patrick thinks, eyeing the treeline in case of any intruders.

Clementine strides forward into the circle of glyphs scratched into the dirt surrounding the wall. Harrison and Seamus must have made those, but Patrick figures it would have made more sense to make them permanent, if they were trying to alter something.

"One of these," Clementine says, sounding like she's just remembered something.

She raises her hand and places it on the wall, then abruptly hisses and yanks her hand away, face scrunched into a scowl.

"Iron?" Patrick wonders, frowning.

"No." Clementine shakes her hand and circles the wall, inspecting all the details.

Patrick follows suit and steps into the circle of glyphs. As soon as he does, Ivo pops up out of thin air and winds around his ankles, then stretches out and races around the wall before settling back down at his feet.

"Don't go through the door," Clementine warns.

"I won't."

"Good."

"What is it?"

"A portal."

"To where?"

"The Below. Signe came through here, no doubt about that."

"She made it? Like the road you made?"

"No, this is, say, a cobbled street. This has been here a few thousand years or so. The Unseelie built them as a gift for the humans, as, hmm, compensation for a few unwarranted atrocities. There's two others, anyway. One is in Vaenyth and the other is in Belaseth. The interesting thing is that this one is open. Titania had them all closed, I thought."

"Do you think Alistair opened it?"

"I've never thought him powerful enough to combat fae magic," Clementine answers. "Lots of humans have magic, but it's rare to have magic that is on our level."

Aodhan does, Patrick thinks. Even if he doesn't do much with it anymore.

"What about combined forces?" Patrick asks. "I've done that before."

"Now that is more plausible."

"Um- Morwenna wants all of Adaetram, right? Wouldn't it be easy to travel to each province through their portals and take over them that way?"

"I don't know that it would be easier, otherwise it would have been done before. Travelling through the Below takes a person with the right type of magic to do it safely. It's the world of the dead. Living people aren't supposed to be there."

"Oh. Aodhan mentioned that." Patrick points at one of the sigils, a circle with two scythe like lines cutting through it. "That's a protection sigil."

Clementine looks over at it. "Protection from death."

"To keep things in."

"Likely."

Patrick peers into the doorway, focusing, looking beyond the trees. Figures flicker and Ivo meows to get his attention.

"You know where that thing came from, right?"

"I read that familiars come from the Below."

"Alistair didn't tell you?"

"He might've. I can't remember."

"Familiars are god monsters," Clementine says. "Small ones, granted, but god monsters nonetheless. Humans can get them through violent experiences, usually ones where the solid vessel they use is brought almost to death. The closer to death, the stronger the familiar. So it's said."

Aodhan didn't tell me that when I came to him after eating the angel's trumpet. Is that not common knowledge?

"Can you choose which ones come?"

"Shamans can perform a ritual to call upon a familiar. It's still a near death experience, but it's supervised, guided. I don't know that it's any safer."

Aodhan probably did those.

Seemingly satisfied with their findings at the portal, Clementine starts to walk back to the castle. Patrick hurries to catch up with her.

"Are you going to talk to Leif?"

"No, tomorrow maybe," she says. "As much as I want to get things done, I'd rather have him sweat."