It was only after they re-entered the forest that a lone rider on a two-legged talon steed came trotting up to the escort, dressed in plain leathers.

  “We’re clear,” she announced, “No one followed after you exited the guard house.”

  The older man from earlier with the twin axes at his side, Hart, gave her a wave from near the front of the procession, and the scout swung her crow faced mount around and darted back into the forest. Val sagged at her station, her pent up tension finally releasing, and removed her battle axe placing it on the carriage roof within easy reach. Several of the other riders seemed to relax as well, strapping pole arms back to their saddles or removing more uncomfortable parts of armor.

  There was a brief knock from inside the carriage, and Val obediently responded by sliding a small window open. Prince Dorius was sitting with his back to her in the carriage, but leaned conspiratorially around to catch her with one eye.

  “What did you make of all that?” he asked, his mouth slightly quirked.

  Val hummed a moment, “The fanfare aside, I find it suspicious a simple task for the family outcast required an in-person audience. I don’t think the Pentarch takes any joy in just humiliating you for that to be his only objective.” She began stripping some of the accessories off her horns absently and passed them through the window. Elias, who was sitting on the opposite bench with his staff propped against the carriage wall, leaned forward to take them and began to neatly pack them into a velvet lined box.

  Dorius nodded, “I agree, it is important enough that it needs to remain within the family, which means the problem is more important politically than my uncle - or more likely yet one of my cousins - will let on.”

  “Have we reached the part where they’ve found out about your merchant army and decided to kill you?” quipped Bastian as he pulled closer to join the conversation. Val twisted slightly sideways to give him a view into the carriage to his Prince.

  Dorius laughed a moment grimly. Elias shook his head. “Your Prince is not important enough for any subterfuge to be necessary if that were the case. I imagine some of your cousins would take great joy in petitioning the king to cut you off if they had justification, and the Ivory Guard could just cut us down if they decided to deal with it in simpler terms,” explained the older man to Bastian.

  “I’d like to see them try,” mumbled Val, checking the balance of her axe on the carriage.

  “One of the men reckon’ there was talk of a horse in the stable as well.” Bastian added.

  Dorius, curious suddenly, unfolded one of his arms from his lap to lean on the sill for a better look at Bastian.

  “One of my cousins then. I thought the guests' excuse was part of the game,” he considered for a moment, “any chance you heard what color it was?”

  Bastian shook his head.

  Hart had pulled back from the front of the procession and rode closer then. “Your orders?” he called from his mount.

  “We return home for now via Ashtowne, we’ll stop there for a proper sleep. Organize a spot for us to camp outside of town and meet up with the others,” called Dorius out his window to Hart, then turning in his seat to sit more comfortably facing forward again he added more quietly, “Bastian join me.”

  Bastian tossed his reins to Hart, and standing in the saddle quickly hopped to the footboard to join Val. He was one of few men whose height approached her chin, but she was far broader and she shifted one foot off to make more room for him. Hart dutifully gathered Bastian’s mount’s reins, gave his prince a quick bow from his saddle and pulled away from the carriage, lifting an arm to signal one of the scouts out of the forest and begin passing along the orders.

  “We are to make ourselves known to the post at Kal’Fall to the north-east, from there we will take command of some spat we’re currently in with the Free Mountain State and re-establish diplomacy. Our duty is to have the position resolved by dark solstice for military reinforcement of the posting,” explained Dorius to Bastian who had missed the drama at the Palace. There had obviously been additional details on the documents they were provided to supplement the orders given at the breakfast meeting.

  “To what end?” asked Bastian looking at Elias, “Is there a chance of war with the Mountain State?”

  Elias shook his head, “The Mountain State’s position as a free settlement is likely not under dispute, anything too antagonistic would be seen as a breaking of the peace between the Pentarchy.”

  Dorius’ eyes narrowed, but whatever opinions he had to offer he held close for the moment. Val had known him long enough to guess that he had an idea of what was at play, but not enough evidence yet to give it voice.

  “Our relationship with the Mountain State has been rocky since the establishment of the Pentarchy. Their position as the center of a five spoked wheel puts them in a vulnerable position,” continued Elias, “They are protected just as much, if not more, by the equal balance of the peace. If the Spine itself were not so inhospitable and trade or even troop passage could be secured through the passes, it would have collapsed years ago. Instead, they occupy the inevitable position of hissing and spitting like a trapped cat, hoping to remind their captors that they are not yet tamed within their cage.”

  “I do not think this the usual bristling of the Mountain State,” pondered Dorius, “There is something much bigger at play. The clearing of the Palace Forest strikes me as odd as well. This feels more like desperation to avoid attention from prying eyes at something important by involving someone un-important.”

  Elias finished packing Val’s accessories and closed the ornate box, then began moving boxes under his bench to make room for it.

  “This is proof at least then… that they think you loyal?” Val asked.

  Dorius laughed shortly, “Oh I doubt it, at best it is a test. My eldest cousins, I think, may see through our impoverished, spoiled princling act. My uncle, however, is relying on Elias to solve this issue, not me,” he tilted his head in thought a moment.

  Elias continued to shuffle under the carriage benches looking for something, “Be careful still,” he cautioned, “You take the act too far with the Pentarch. He would be within rights to have Valina beheaded for that show.”

  “It’s taking it too far that sells it,” Dorius responded idly, his mind already rushing on to other thoughts, “someone playing a ruse would stop at the edge of common sense.”

  “I trust your judgement,” added Val, “Anyway, I don't think they'd find me that easy to behead,” she concluded with a hint of nerves. Dorius gave her a small grin.

  Elias sat up, having found what he was looking for, a document box, which he opened and withdrew a pen from. Dorius passed him the document from the meeting from within his sleeve, and Elias noted some additional thoughts to it in the margins, before adding it to the top of the documents contained within. He then sighed, pressing the pile down with both hands.

  “I deeply loved your mother, she was the best of the fourth bloodline. Something about giving her life for a son distilled that legacy to you. An odd quirk perhaps of the line ending, “ he wondered. “I offer my counsel sincerely and out of love for you as a warning - your skill has only carried you this far because the Watcher has their eye on you. The risks will only grow as you begin to test the boundaries of your ambition. While we would give our lives for you, we are of no use to you dead.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Elias looked Bastian and Val in the eyes as he finished speaking, his warning just as much for them as his charge.

  Dorius grew grimmer for a moment, but forged on, “There is opportunity here,” he said, “And I would seize it if I can, there is just as much risk to you all should I fail, as there is in the path to success.”

  —

  Hart was the first to enter the tavern at Ashtowne, his slate blue uniform traded for practical leathers. The four-horned dragon sigil was gone, instead he only wore the open winged bird design as a badge on his chest. Bastian and the other older man who had formed the palace escort were next, also now dressed in their mercenary leathers, with the same sigil on their shoulders. Dorius and Elias followed. Dorius had shed his robes and finery completely to blend in with his guard, same winged bird sigil on his shoulder and a cap on his head, ear flaps covering the sides of his face. Elias, in comparison, had not changed. Val, who would have had to duck under the doorway even if she did not have horns, was last. She matched the crew, lightly armored in leathers, only her double-headed battle axe was the same. She was the only one in the group who carried a weapon openly, all others had been left with the carriage and their escort outside of town.

  The tavern turned to look at her for only a moment, she was unusual for sure but Fae-touched individuals were far more common among the regular populace. Their carefully constructed appearance made their circumstances obvious - a small group of mercenaries, with one unusual but not unexpected heavy guard, and a single client - and interest from the patrons was quickly lost as they returned to their conversations and meals

  Hart guided them to a corner table, taking care to draw a seat out for Elias while the rest of the crew settled around them, Dorius taking a position opposite and between Bastian and the older man. Val took position in the corner, giving her a view of the whole room. A barman approached to take orders.

  “We have ham from a hog slaughtered yesterday, smoked overnight, as well as bread from the local baker and whatever vegetables the cook bought in the market this morning,” he offered, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “Food and beers for the table then,” returned Hart.

  “And for your client?” asked the barman.

  Elias held up a hand, “I am fine with the same, although I wouldn’t mind if you have some wine instead of beer.”

  The barman thought for a moment, “We may have a few young bottles in the cellar, likely from somewhere south.”

  “Perfect I’ll have a bottle, bring a spare glass as well.”

  The barman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and busied off to collect a few plates before returning behind the bar and passing the order along.

  Bastian then eagerly drew a deck of cards from a pocket and held them out, a few nods, and he started shuffling them, leaving Elias and Val out of the deal.

  “What else did you learn during our stay, other than the horse?” asked Dorius, picking up the cards as he was dealt them and arranging them in his hand.

  Hart rubbed his chin for a moment, stubble growing as evidence of their rushed travel the past few days. “The stables were almost full and the mess had barely any room. Set the men up some tables by the muster yard instead. Whichever cousin was in residence, they must have brought most of their retinue with them.”

  “Not a social visit then,” added Bastian, finishing his deal and picking up his cards. Val bent over his shoulder a moment to look at his hand and he twisted them slightly to give her a better look.

  The barman returned, placing down the wine bottle and a pair of glasses, and waited a moment before Elias gave him a wave to indicate he was satisfied. The bottle had already been opened and Elias poured himself a glass, then motioned to the oldest man, “Davern?”

  Davern nodded, and Elias passed him the bottle and second glass to pour his own. The barkeep returned a second time at that point, five mugs of beer in hand, and placed them in the middle. Bastian then started the game, placing down his first card and there was companionable silence as the first few cards were played.

  Val snorted at one of Bastian’s moves and he slapped the table in good hearted annoyance.

  “Don’t give it away,” he ribbed, and hid his hand from her.

  Dorius took his turn, grinning slightly, “Val’s given up your game.”

  Bastian tossed his hand face down on the table in irritation, and pushed his cards to the center surrendering the round. With a frustrated sigh, he drummed his fingers on the table and gave Val a glare. Val shrugged and returned her gaze to the tavern.

  It was relatively quiet for a lunch crowd, half of the tables were empty and most of the regulars appeared to be seated at the bar, making conversation with the barman. A few of the local guards entered, making eye contact with Val as they did. She gave them a quick nod, and they turned away to find their own table.

  “I passed through the scullery when I was looking for the seneschal, there was a lot of red laundry,” offered Bastian after a moment of watching the game progress without him.

  Elias looked into his wine glass, and passed a glance with Davern and Hart.

  “Matthias or Synthias then,” mused Dorius, placing down another card. He seemed to start to speak, then held back as he noticed the barman approaching with a platter of their food. Most was piled into one larger tray, but he also carried a separate clean plate. He placed the platter off center, so as not to disturb their cards, then the plate before Elias, adding some cutlery from within his apron.

  Elias served himself first, then the rest drew straight from the platter in the middle, absently eating as they continued their game. Dorius showed no hesitation in joining them, tearing up some of the bread with his hands and dipping it in the juices from roasted vegetables on the platter.

  “I thought the Carmine Guard and Ivory Guard were one and the same these days?” asked Hart, finishing his first mug of beer and playing a surprisingly strong move to their card game.

  Dorius shook his head, “They share members and resources in the Capital, but still maintain the separation of uniform and purpose. They’d never fully dissolve, even if Synthias were officially the heir, the red would just pass to the next in line.”

  Val, distracted from her guard by the conversation and food, picked up a few of Bastian’s discarded cards and tried to balance them in a pyramid. “I saw the captain of the reds ordering about the whites last Winter Reception, “ she added softly, “I think there is very little the Pentarch does anymore that doesn’t have one of them involved.”

  Dorius sighed, and also forfeited his hand at that moment. “Uncle, do you have any connections at Kal’Fall or near the Spine?”

  Hart paused as he rearranged his cards, taking a moment to think. “It’s too far out of our territory. Even working caravan contracts your network rarely travels that far north.”

  “We’ve a good relationship with the Black Wolf Mercenaries who operate in that region. They’re not the biggest but they are big enough they might be useful,” added Davern, his voice a husky drawl.

  Dorius lifted the front of his cap to rearrange his silver-blond hair, then seemed to settle on a thought. “Pick a few men to go now while the journey is shorter, send them north and make contact if they can. See if they can arrange to work with the Black Wolves for a period to learn the lay of the land. If the Wolves are not in regular contact with the Spine, they are free to operate at their discretion. Elias will brief them on their objectives and help you write a letter of introduction.”

  Hart nodded, “You won’t come back with us?”

  “No, I have some business here then I’ll stay the night with a proper bed, I’ll take Val and Bastian. Elias, can you send a runner with the goods I packed to the Guild House when you get back?”

  Elias drew out a purse at that point, and began to count some coins which he handed to Bastian for safe keeping. Bastian gave them a quick count, and hid them within a pouch he wore around his neck and tucked into his leathers.

  “Get the men a hot dinner, we’ll rejoin you tomorrow morning and continue to Southold then,” continued Dorius. Hart nodded.

  Dorius then rose and selected a bread roll to pocket, Val was on her feet in response without any bidding. Bastian allowed an expression of longing for the plate of food to hover on his face, and realizing he wasn’t going to slow his Prince down, selected a few slices of ham to stuff in his mouth. “I want my cards back!” he demanded to the table, then rushed to join Val and Dorius who were already part way out the door.