"Your Majesty," Doruni, the Godma intelligence chief, called softly from the doorway. "Emperor."

  William Davidow lay slumped at his desk, only the slightest tremor in his shoulders betraying life. "Emperor!" Doruni called again. "We have taken Kingdom of Cynthia!"

  The Great Emperor William leapt to his feet, scattering a flurry of documents across the desk. "When did this happen!?"

  "By tomorrow night, most likely," Doruni replied, flashing an insincere, toothy grin. "One more word of such nonsense, and I'll have your tongue cut from your mouth, Doruni."

  "Then Your Majesty would lose the pleasure of my intelligence reports, would you not?" Doruni said, twirling his mustache between his fingers.

  "Replacements abound, Doruni. Besides, you could always write with your hands," the emperor remarked, settling back into his chair. "Did I fall asleep?"

  "Indeed, Your Majesty. It's late enough that even the ravens have fallen silent."

  "They dare not cry without my leave," William Davidow declared, his gaze drawn to the reflecting pool beyond the window, its surface mirroring the star-strewn sky. "Speak then. What fresh intelligence have you brought?"

  "Reports from the front lines indicate Duke Dear has resolved to commence the assault at sunrise today."

  "A full-scale offensive or a phased attack?"

  "Full-scale, Your Majesty."

  "So we're to clash head-on after all," the emperor muttered. "What of Raveirmom's strategy? How does it progress?"

  "At present, it can be deemed successful," Doruni replied. "According to Duke Dear's battle plan, the dwarves will deploy trebuchets at sunrise to breach the western wall of Cynthia. We've preemptively positioned a contingent of Grey Knights and Royal Knights on Cynthia's western flank. The moment a breach appears in the wall, these knights will storm into Cynthia from the west. Simultaneously, battle will erupt on the main front, with all Godma forces stationed outside Cynthia launching a coordinated assault. This is the message I received, committed to memory word for word. I must say," he added with a sly grin, "this particular communications officer possesses a literary flair that others lack."

  "A two-pronged assault..." William Davidow inquired, "Did Raveirmom specify which approach would serve as the principal offensive?"

  "The main gate, Your Majesty. The western wall operation serves partially as a diversion."

  "Clever man," the emperor remarked, placing his clasped hands upon the desk. "Should the dwarves fail in their task, will Raveirmom proceed with the assault regardless, or has he devised an alternative strategy?"

  "To my knowledge, no alternative exists. Duke Dear has indicated that even should the dwarves falter, we shall execute the original plan nonetheless. Naturally, the difficulty increases considerably. The western pincer attack devolves into mere harassment to divide attention, which certainly disadvantages us. But delays are no longer tolerable. Our supplies dwindle perilously; Crivi's granaries have stood empty these past two weeks. The soldiers grow restless with complaints, and waste management has become a significant burden. One might say we are compelled to attack. And of course," he added with a calculated chuckle, "pitting 330,000 soldiers against fewer than 100,000, provided we can breach Cynthia's gates, the vast qualitative disparity between our forces grants us a formidable advantage in capturing the city. Intelligence suggests virtually no defensive fortifications exist within Cynthia's central districts."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "And the Princess of Cynthia," William Davidow reminded him sharply. "We must secure that infant. Don't tell me you seriously intend for Raveirmom to locate her amidst the chaos of battle."

  "Such a plan, while not entirely infeasible, offers scant prospect of success," Doruni responded with obsequious deference. "Naturally, I've prepared an alternative strategy. That constitutes my primary purpose in seeking audience with you tonight, Your Majesty."

  "The plan you previously mentioned? The operative embedded within the Cynthian royal household?"

  "Precisely so. I've placed a handmaiden in the princess's service—one of our most reliable agents. She has successfully integrated with the princess's other attendants without arousing suspicion."

  "Spare me the details. What is the outcome?"

  "Certainly, Your Majesty. She intends to extract the princess from the Cynthian Palace tonight."

  "Tonight?" The Godma Emperor registered momentary surprise before nodding thoughtfully. "Not without merit. By dawn, the Cynthians will inevitably discover their princess's disappearance, and with the dwarves and Raveirmom launching simultaneous assaults, panic will surely intensify. What follows?" he inquired. "Will she flee Cynthia under cover of darkness or await morning?"

  "I advised her to delay until daybreak," Doruni explained with barely concealed pride. "While nightfall offers concealment, Cynthia possesses but a single main gate, heavily fortified and vigilantly guarded. Attempting to pass through undetected presents considerable challenges. Far more prudent to first vacate the palace, secure lodging at an inn for the night, then await Raveirmom's breach into Cynthia come morning to establish contact. This approach circumvents numerous complications. Several days past, I dispatched carrier pigeons with these instructions, hoping they arrive in timely fashion. Nevertheless, should my counsel fail to reach her, Duke Dear remains positioned to render assistance."

  "Unless she's discovered prematurely, or Raveirmom encounters unexpected resistance at Cynthia's walls, your strategy seems sound," the emperor conceded with a nod. "Barring unforeseen complications, all hinges upon Raveirmom's capacity to execute his part."

  "And then there's... Brigar."

  "King Royce?" William Davidow's brow furrowed. "Has he made some movement worthy of concern?"

  "Nothing particularly noteworthy at present," Doruni replied, his eyes shifting restlessly. "Yet I harbor misgivings about his loyalty. Should he marshal the northern coalition to Cynthia's aid during Raveirmom's siege..."

  "Such action would prove detrimental to both parties, especially himself," Davidow interjected with a cold sneer. "Should he dare violate our agreement, I shall ensure his insignificant kingdom vanishes from all maps."

  "One can only hope so," Doruni concluded with a deferential bow. "This concludes my report, Your Majesty. Unless you require anything further, I shall take my leave."

  William Davidow dismissed him with an imperial wave, then returned his gaze to the pristine pool beyond the window, its still surface perfectly mirroring the night sky above.

  Rebecca Cynthia appeared resolutely determined to resist slumber. "Princess, I implore you, please attempt to sleep, won't you?"

  The infant princess responded by landing a decisive punch on Kristina Petrova's face as the maid leaned in to kiss her. "She struck me, Mistress Hubbard!" the short-haired attendant exclaimed indignantly. "The little princess actually struck me with her fist!"

  "Were I in her position, I might be inclined to do the same," the nursemaid replied weakly from her reclined position. "It's far too late for such commotion; simply settle the princess to sleep. You young people cannot comprehend how precious rest becomes at my age."

  "But she absolutely refuses to sleep!" Kristina protested helplessly. Even confined to her cradle, Rebecca continued her personal concert, intelligible only to herself. "She rejects sleep in her cradle yet becomes even more animated in my arms. I've never once succeeded in calming her."

  "Then summon Beth to hold her," Mistress Hubbard mumbled drowsily. "Whatever methods proved effective previously, employ them again now. Allow these old bones some respite..." Her words dissolved into gentle snoring.

  "But Beth Keton has not yet returned..." The short-haired maid carefully returned the infant to her cradle. (The longer you delay your return, the better, Beth Keton. Better yet, never return at all.)