The moon was high in the sky as he made his way to Barrel 76. He had shed off his armor for his usual dark garb, and he could feel the crispness of the night air as he ran across the rooftops. There were still many people bustling about even at this time of night, and he had to be wary about his shadow casting off the braziers.

In one hand was a large grain sack, and holding it made him feel like a common thug en route to kidnapping some earl’s son. Unfortunately, abductions were nothing new to him. King Maxime dealt with almost as many rebellions as wars, and like in Magerra, he always suppressed them with violence.

Baron Damien wasn’t the only one who had dealt with the Melmerians. When Roel was eighteen, he had been ordered to help fight off Melmerian guerrilla forces that had taken root in Calorin territories across the coastline. They had captured one of the leaders, but he refused to give them any information about their members and bases.

So, Roel’s next assignment was to kidnap the Melmerian leader’s children, a boy and a girl. He had taken them right from their beds, and he could still remember their muffled wailing through the sack. In a soft voice, he promised them that they’d be unharmed and returned to their father within a few days; that was when he learned not to make promises that he couldn’t keep.

Two weeks and three severed fingers later, the Calorin troops had rounded up all the guerilla forces. King Maxime promptly had the leaders and their families executed. “Treachery and heresy run in bloodlines,” he often said in justification.

He had rarely spoken with King Maxime other than to receive orders, but as he made his way to the tavern, he realized that he had learned more from The Bloodstained than he realized. In the same way that Lady Romane had taught him how to fight, King Maxime had demonstrated through his orders that the world could be solved through violence.

If Kostas would not talk, then he would make him talk: That was the thought that had been running through his mind when they had been on the docks. It terrified him how quickly he had reached that decision. (Was that really the only choice he had? Or was it just the choice that he had been conditioned to choose?) At the same time, he felt so confident that that was what he had to do. He would abduct him, keep him imprisoned in Olivier’s root cellar, and resort to torture if needed.

Getting into Kostas’ room would be easy. There was a backdoor to the tavern that the cooks used, or he could simply walk through the front door and pretend to be a patron. However, there was an even simpler method: through the window.

He wasn’t adept at lockpicking, but he wouldn’t need to be. Barrel 76, unlike most of the other taverns in Albine, kept no pretenses; it was a ramshackle building that often catered to poor artists and wayfarers. At best, the windows would be shut with tightly knotted cloth rather than a pin tumbler or warded lock. Nothing a dagger couldn’t handle.

When he reached the tavern, he was surprised to see that it would even be easier than that. The window to Kostas’ room was wide open. He slowly lowered himself from the roof of the tavern, his hands gripping the eaves, and peered into the room. There was no sign of the scholar – the bed was empty, and there were no personal belongings in sight.

Bemusement and bitterness filled him. How had he slipped away? Olivier’s servants had reported seeing him enter the tavern two hours ago. Could he have disguised himself and hidden in a crowd or found a blind spot and slipped out?

He found a piece of sheepskin parchment on the bed. His frown grew as he read it.

You’ll have to try harder if you want to capture me. Both you and Nero think yourselves so devious. Oh, and don’t try searching the docks. I was lying about boarding a ship.

He gave a frustrated sigh. His only chance to capture the scholar had been at the docks. Either Kostas had read his intentions, or he had already known he was being watched. The scholar must’ve left the window open on purpose to further mock him.

His first failure and the war hadn’t even started yet.

In the morning, he met with Olivier in the great hall. It was just the two of them at a small round table; Olivier had asked Maia and the servants for privacy.

“The root cellar is empty, so I assume it didn’t go well,” Olivier said.

“He knew we were coming,” he said bitterly. “You sure your servants weren’t bribed?”

Olivier shook his head. “No, I trust them. He might’ve slipped past them though. One was inside Barrel 76 and the other was outside watching the front door. Lots of blind spots. The back door in the kitchen, for example.”

“We failed the moment he left our sights,” he said with a sigh. He noticed that Olivier’s face was still grim. “What’s wrong?”

“Two pieces of news arrived early this morning,” Olivier said.

“Ah, the Graecian Empire gave their formal response?”

“Not just that.”

He tried to think of what else could’ve happened but came up empty. “What is it?”

“Another prince is dead.”

“What?” Dread filled him, and Charlie’s impishly grinning face appeared in his mind. “Prince Charles?”

“No, the baby, Gilbert,” Olivier said.

He felt both relieved and ashamed of himself for feeling so relieved. “That must be devastating for the royal family,” he said. “How did it happen?”

“Illness. They say he was sickly from birth.”

“Is it ever really illness?” he said, but he couldn’t figure out what anyone had to gain from the baby’s death.

“That’s the least of our concerns right now. The Graecians’ response to the allegations is….” Olivier paused. “Unexpected, to say the very least.”

“How so? Didn’t they just deny killing Ghislain?”

“The opposite.”

“The opposite?” he repeated, but he understood immediately what that meant. But it was just so absurd. “Are you sure this is a reliable source? Why would the Graecians…”

“I don’t understand it either,” Olivier said. “But the news came from reliable sources. Emperor Nero took credit for Prince Ghislain’s death. He’s declared war on us.”

“On what grounds?” he said, still bemused.

“The Graecians have never held themselves to the same standards of honor that we do,” Olivier said grimly. “If they want to declare war, they can. But I don’t understand why the emperor wouldn’t just deny the allegations. There’s no reason not to. An unprovoked attack on another kingdom’s prince is impossible to justify.”

“A ruthless man, huh…” he said, thinking back on his conversation with Kostas. But no matter which angle he approached it from, he couldn’t understand the emperor’s motives. “King Mathieu and the Royal Council must be pleased. Everything went much better than they could’ve ever expected.”

“I suppose you’re heading to Brackith now,” Olivier said.

“Yeah, I’ll have to –”

“Get a horse? Already got you one. A palfrey.”

“Thank you. Next, I’ll need to –”

“I sent a servant to Baron Damien’s residence an hour ago. And my steward is drafting a letter to Earl Gaston to have him send his son and his provisions to Brackith.”

He gawked at his friend. “How much would I have to pay you to join my army?”

“You wouldn’t be able to afford a third of me,” Olivier said, snickering. A guilty expression came over his face. “I would come if I could. But with everything I have here…well, fighting isn’t my lot in life.”

“I know, it was a joke,” he said with a smile. “I don’t hold any grudges. You chose your path, I chose mine. Besides, you’re a married man now. Everything you’ve worked for is in Albine.”

“And what about you?” Olivier asked. “You need to have some tangible goals, Roel. I think that would really help you. Something to work towards.”

“Isn’t it enough to come back with my life?” he said with a laugh, but his smile soon faded. “Sometimes, I worry about what’s atop the hill I’m climbing.”

Olivier frowned. “This hill analogy of yours again?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad if I climbed the hill and found nothing waiting for me,” he continued. “What worries me more is that I’ll realize that the reward isn’t as great as I thought it’d be. ‘That’s it?’ I’d mutter. ‘That’s why I came up all this way?’”

Olivier considered his words for a moment. “I think I get it. But isn’t the accomplishment of climbing the hill good enough?”

He thought of the shrubs of sage and the chirping of crickets. “I hope so. I really do.”