Willem’s first visit to the royal palace wasn’t quite what he expected. But then, that was because he didn’t enter through the main portal.

  Together with Viviene, they went to what’s called the servant’s entrance. Though tightly guarded, it was incredibly humble and low-key. Willem walked through one of those portals, which had been installed into a doorframe. Then, without ceremony, they found themselves in the heart of an incredibly crowded courtyard.

  Thousands of servants sworn to the royal palace moved to and from, hauling with them tremendous amounts of supplies and luxuries for the various needs of the royal court. The majority of the top officials of the empire had their residence here—the grandest nobles were all bid to live near the king rather than in their own domain. That was a symptom of the intense centralization of the Kingdom of Ravenveld. And with that centralization naturally flowed quite the elaborate court life.

  But Lennard, Hans, and Godfried weren’t living here as part of the royal court. They were the lowliest of servants—common laborers. Hans had been waiting for their arrival, and immediately walked toward Viviene with an expression of turmoil.

  “Mom,” Hans said, grabbing her hand. “You have to smuggle me out of here. Please.”

  Viviene pulled her hand free. “The only way you’re leaving early is in a coffin, son. You know this.”

  “We got stable work today,” Hans said. “The royal palace has over a thousand horses, mom. We’ve been shoveling shit, carrying hay bales, and brushing animals for the better part of three hours. I’ve got a rash that I can’t even explain in an area that I don’t even want to say. The stablemaster still deducted my pay, because the grand duke’s horse’s coat wasn’t clean enough or some nonsense.” Hans rubbed his forehead in frustration.

  He gave a laugh of misery. “And after all of that, I have to go through tutoring, where they scourge me if I get a single question wrong. When I leave here, I have to go to that tiny, cramped apartment with that bastard that’s gouging me for rent money… and I have to tell him that I don’t have all of the rent. He’s going to put me out on the street, and I just have to take it.”

  Willem couldn’t help but smile seeing Hans in that state. King Arnoud was making the Brughs do something that almost everyone should experience at least once in their life—working a demanding, thankless job just to pay rent. Under threat of execution, he was forcing them to do back-breaking work in the royal palace for pay. And that pay was all that they were given to pay for their rent and their food.

  In a word, King Arnoud was showing them what nobility had afforded them their entire lives.

  “So, you’re seeing how the sausage is made,” Willem remarked. “Tell me, what’s it like down there in the land of the poor? Do we still even speak the same language?”

  Hans looked at Willem hatefully. “If the king wasn’t feeding us aura suppressants, I might do something unwise.” He turned around and beckoned them. “Well, come on. We’re not on break for much longer.”

  Willem and Viviene followed after Hans, finding little time to speak in the large crowds of people. The palace grounds were amazingly grand. The gardens themselves were the size of a football field. There were countless buildings of varying purpose thrown about everywhere, each of them every bit as imposing as the last. Eventually they came to the farthest building, which was so placed to keep the smell from reaching elsewhere.

  Lennard and Godfried sat on bays of hale, eating plain, cardboard-looking bread. They were chatting with each other, but upon seeing them approach, quieted. Godfried in particular stared at Willem, his face a bit pale. Beyond them was the royal stables, where Willem saw horse after horse, each prettier than the last. There were as many as twenty people moving about the stables alone.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” Viviene remarked as she came closer. “My boys in the royal palace, and me visiting them. Of course, it reeks of horses and they’re covered in dirt… but I suppose the principle is the same.”

  “Mother,” Godfried greeted, sounding better than Willem expected. “And… Willem,” he greeted, a faint twang of unease in his voice.

  “Hi mom,” Lennard said, sounding the same as ever, strangely. “Hi Willem. Nice of you two to come by.”

  “I was just telling them how miserable we are,” Hans said, jumping up onto a hay bale where he pulled out his half-eaten loaf of bread.

  Willem looked at the three of them, trying to pick up on certain differences. They were all tanner, certainly. Hans’ hair was a bit longer, and he still kept it in a ponytail. Godfried’s black hair fell to about his shoulders, and he looked much less rigid in posture. Lennard looked… the same, really, aside from the tan.

  “Hans is miserable,” Godfried corrected. “This has been a valuable time to think. More fulfilling than I could’ve expected.”

  “I’ve had fun,” Lennard remarked. “I like when we lay the bricks for the construction project. It’s very satisfying.”

  Hans shook his head. “These two are inclined toward menial labor. Myself? The finer arts draw my fancy. I prefer tasks involving the use of the mind.”

  Godfried and Lennard both looked at Hans, but it was Godfried that said, “Your tutor sessions are the worst out of all of ours.”

  “I’m talking about socializing,” Hans said. “People skills. Communication.”

  Lennard remarked, “Hans was living with me and Godfried for a bit, but he was always trying to short his part of the rent and was generally unpleasant, so we kicked him out.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The three of them bickered a little, but it didn’t seem as bad-natured as it once was. King Arnoud seemed a shrewd man. Shared duress and misery could settle a lot of differences. It could also go disastrously wrong, but that didn’t seem to be the case this time. He couldn’t say if it would hold long-term—that was always the trouble with these sorts of solutions—but it was certainly a nice foundation to build things off.

  “I’m proud of you three,” Viviene said.

  All of them looked at her expectantly.

  “Say the next part,” Hans prompted. “I’m proud of you three… because you’re finally down in the dirt, where you belong.”

  “No barbed comments,” Viviene said, crossing her arms. “I’m proud of you for getting along. You’re my boys, and I love you. Now more than ever, it’s important that the family comes together. I can guarantee we’ll be tested in the coming weeks.”

  It was very nice to see all of them getting along… but it was more than a little alienating. It was a stark reminder that Willem was an outsider, butting in where he didn’t belong by circumstance. Willem couldn’t find a place to interject, any way to fit in. Eventually, though, his gaze met with Godfried. The man got off his hay bale and walked up to him.

  “I want to talk to you,” Godfried said, looking up at Willem. “Can you give me some time?”

  “Sure,” Willem nodded.

  “This way,” Godfried said, leading Willem to a more private area by the castle wall.

  “What’s this about?” Willem asked.

  Godfried looked around, then scratched the back of his neck. “I need to apologize for what I did to you. I thought… thought the worst of you. Did utterly terrible things.”

  “Turned out alright,” Willem pointed out.

  “Let me finish,” Godfried continued. “Had a lot of time to think and get some clarity of mind in this place.”

  “Smell of horse dung clears the brain, does it?” Willem joked.

  “Something like that,” Godfried said with a shake of his head. “Fact is… the whole time, I’ve been blaming the situation with Dorothea on you. But after you revealed exactly what she was… a traitor…” he rubbed at his eyes. “I guess I never wanted to think that equal blame was on her, all those years ago. So… I apologize.” He looked up, blue eyes open and honest.

  “Willem van Brugh was a horrible person,” Willem said after a moment of silence. “No two ways about it. He’s admitted as much, and I’ll say it again; wasn’t right, what happened to you. Adultery sticks in your craw forever. But… well, you did put a target on my back. What do you say to starting with a clean slate?”

  Godfried pursed his lips. “I don’t know about clean, but… yeah. I apologize. For what my irrational hatred of you caused. For what my stupid love of that…” he sighed.

  “If there’s someone you should be concerned about, it’s Arend,” Willem said. “Have you talked to him?”

  “No,” Godfried said with a shake of his head. “Why?”

  “We had a duel in the arena this morning,” Willem said nonchalantly. “Probably going to have another tomorrow. He’s got the blues something fierce, and while I can give him a reason to get out of bed, it’s probably going to be a friend that keeps him out of it.”

  “A duel?” Godfried said in alarm. “You’re joking.”

  “Pay him a visit,” Willem said. “The man has no one in his life except me. You can imagine how depressing that is.”

  Godfried’s expression grew pensive, and Willem left to rejoin the rest of the Brugh brothers. By the time he did, he saw a stately official marching across the stable grounds, headed their direction.

  “Who’s that?” Viviene asked, voicing Willem’s question.

  “Count Nicolas,” Hans answered. “He’s the majordomo of the royal palace. A very influential man.”

  Viviene looked at Willem. “That means you call him My Lord or Your Lordship,” she reminded him. “Etiquette is infinitely stricter here, son. He’s not Ventura. If you pinch his cheeks like you did your brother-in-law, he’ll file a complaint to the king and have you reprimanded.”

  Willem nodded, watching the man approach.

  “I’m looking for Willem, former of House van Brugh,” Nicolas began in a shrewish, tight voice.

  Willem raised his hand. “Here, Your Lordship.”

  Nicolas walked up to Willem. “Her Highness Clara Isabella Eugenia Maria Antonia van Ravenveld, heir of all Ravenveld, has requested your presence.”

  Willem couldn’t help but narrow his eyes “Wh—”

  Viviene elbowed him in the ribs before he could ask why. “Go,” she whispered. “Her Highness, or Your Highness. Be ridiculously respectful. Don’t forget to kneel.”

  Willem gave her an indignant glance, but then stepped away. All of his family members looked at him with concern and alarm. He followed behind Count Nicolas, not knowing where this journey was leading him toward.

  ***

  Willem walked into a pleasantly secluded greenhouse where fruits of all variety grew from immaculately kept plants. It was easy to tell that someone of importance waited ahead. There were countless black-armored royal guards standing at alert, their chest plate emblazoned with a golden raven. They all regarded him with intense suspicion, like he had a gun on him or something. He supposed he did, technically, in the form of aura.

  Princess Clara Isabella Eugenia Maria Antonia van Ravenveld sat in a pavilion. She had a reputation for beauty, and Willem thought it was well-warranted. She had curling black hair, sharp brown eyes that seemed almost golden, immaculate skin, a small nose, and full lips. The black dress lined with cloth-of-gold she wore was so grandiose it was difficult to assess her shape, but her face looked thin. There were two other ladies accompanying her. They seemed to pay Willem no mind as he approached, thinking.

  Once, Willem had known a great deal about medieval history and peerage and all of that nonsense. The vast majority of that had exited his brain, probably to make room for industry knowledge about superconductors, the latest fintech companies, homebuilding stocks, shipping logistics, or international stocks. But he did know something.

  It was incredibly strange for a princess to call the disinherited middle son of a baron for a meeting out of the blue.

  Willem entered into the pavilion, and Princess Clara looked up to meet his gaze. He could tell just from the look that this wasn’t a matter of whim.