This takes place just after Blackthorn cured the gargoyle plague, which Rhista had contracted while taking care of her people. –Malachi

The gargoyle princess struggled to her feet when the human entered the room. She swayed slightly and almost fell, but the newly-crowned king of Britannia helped steady her. He guided her to a chair. “You’re still weak. Rest will help your recovery,” said Blackthorn.

Rhista carefully sat down. “Protocol demands that I show proper respect to an ally power or someone who has saved so many of my people. You are both.”

“I’ve never been one to care much about protocol.”

“I have learned that about you. Especially from your book.” She held up a copy of A Political Call to Anarchy.

“Writings from my younger days.”

“Do you disagree with them now?”

“The opinions were unrefined. Still I remain dedicated to the underlying principles.”

Rhista opened to a bookmark and began reading, “Surely freedom of decision must be regarded as paramount in any such moral decision.” Looking up at him, she asked, “Do you intend to give your subjects such leeway now that you are king? Won’t your people pull in a thousand different directions?”

Blackthorn smiled. “Maybe sometimes they will, but I believe most care about the public good enough to come together when necessary.”

“What about recent events? Your cities almost tore themselves apart.”

“That was because of petty tyranny and greed. Those who claimed authority did so for the wrong reasons. They then ignored problems or only sold solutions to the highest bidder. I intend to temper ambition with the will of the governed. People will choose who speaks for them.”

“Won’t some choose leaders who disagree with you and your chaotic views?”

“I am confident some will do just that. If I am to remain a symbol for Chaos, Order must have its own voice. Some see the relationship between Order and Chaos as a conflict needing a victor, I see it as a dance with another goal in mind.”

“And what is that?”