Aliases are alternative forms of a reference. They can include actual aliases for characters, nicknames, plural variations, gendered versions of some [Classes], and even typos.
Then. But Gazi also remembered when she’d left. She had ridden out, out through a broken place filled with empty-eyed people whose gaunt, vacant expressions bore no hope for tomorrow, let alone the future. The pavement had been cracked, and the first signs of decay had begun to touch even the magnificent structures Drevish had built.
“Lord Drevish and Lady Amerys have not yet made their way back. But Lady Mars and Lord Takhatres have both joined us. Mars arrived mere hours before you.”
“Two of the Seven are dead. They perished before our King went into his slumber. And two more have yet to return. Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield and Drevish, the Architect.”
“—Still surprised Amerys isn’t here. Drevish I could see; if he’s got some sort of project going on he wouldn’t abandon it even for our lord, but Amerys?”
Drevish had died from a swift chop to the neck. The blood still flecked around his neck as Flos slowly held the dripping cube of ice. Everyone was staring at him. Mars was gripping her sword, tears falling from her eyes even as they burned with rage. Takhatres bowed his head, crossing his wings together and murmuring what sounded like a prayer. Orthenon’s hand was clenched so hard Trey saw a streak of blood running down and staining his perfect clothing. And Gazi—
“My friend, my brother, my comrade in arms. Drevish. You built me my cities and weapons of war when you desired naught but to create works of art. And now you are slain. I will meet this Emperor of the Sands and take his head for this, I swear it.”
Drevish, known to all as the Architect, one of the King’s Seven, barely glanced up as Flos took a seat beside him. He was busy with a piece of parchment and charcoal. Flos glanced over his shoulder and saw the man had drawn a rough sketch of the landscape, only in his depiction there were buildings in the place of grass and stone.
The King smiled. Drevish irritably waved him off. He continued sketching for a few moments, lost in thought. Flos was content to wait; he could see three more figures ascending the slope of the hill.
Flos stared pensively out across the battlefield. He could see smoke and fire rising in the distance. Drevish looked up and out at the other enemy’s encampment. He grunted sourly; the [Architect] had little time for battle.
