The plan had been to oversee the training a night or two per week. Caudin found that he couldn’t stay away for more than one night. He’d itch to teach, wait for it all day, sit through meetings and luncheons and ribbon cuttings completely distracted. Not enough to rouse suspicion, but enough to raise an eyebrow here or there. Then, he’d dress for a card game or an informal soiree with a different Principal or Duke and leave. He’d change, arrive at the market, and find out what needed to be taught.

He did that for two weeks. By the end of the fortnight, he had a good idea of who would be best suited to the different positions needed for the first raid. He called out names a few minutes after he joined the group that night and took them aside, bestowing upon them the leadership of the scouts, sappers, archers, and corralers. “Your job will be to find others with the same talent and to guide them. Only take those you feel you can train. We’ll have plenty of work for anyone not chosen.”

He went over what each job entailed and how each would play out during their missions. When he was finished, he allowed each of the leaders to choose one person and begin to train them. They were given half of each night off in exchange for working on their training exercises during the day, which Caudin had begun to create. Scouts, for instance, were asked to go to various parts of the city, locate a renowned person, and tail them discreetly.

They were six weeks into the project and Caudin was feeling proud at his people. He’d lost only a few, and of those they were confirmed ill or having second thoughts, usually due to family. They were all trying so very hard to improve and most were quite capable. He never expected to make professional fencers of any of them, not with the time constraints, but some took to it quite well. All were at least trained enough to use their weapons with a fair amount of skill.

A few more weeks passed, two full months of training. It didn’t come cheaply, but this would be worth it in the long run. The days were beginning to warm and lengthen, but there was the occasional squall in Eri Ranvel. Erifana would be only a little warmer. To strike so early in the season would be unexpected.

He gathered his leaders, Isken, and Kavrin, to him in the first few days of March. “We’re looking to leave in a week or two, depending on the weather. I want you to prepare everyone and set up notification lines.”

“We’re marching so soon?” Kavrin asked. “You told us a year.”

“I couldn’t risk spies finding out our time table.”

“But, are we ready?”

“I am confident that we will be able to conduct our mission with minimal loss.”

“Which is what? Or are you lying about our goals, too?”

“We will be hitting Erifana, burning the ships and harbor, and destroying the command chain. From there we will pick communities along the Mielsa that would completely undermine Sayen’s sea trade. I’m not above making stops along the way up the river, should someone voice some strong needs to.”

“We’re taking on the whole Mielsa?” Kavrin asked, incredulous.

“As many stops as we can. I doubt we’ll make it to the border, but if we can knock out a half dozen ports, my benefactor will be pleased. This will take several weeks. That’s why everyone needs to make contingencies for their families and jobs immediately.”

“We prepared for this,” Carbret, the leader of the scouts, said. “Most of us have been waiting twenty years for a chance at revenge. We’ll be ready.”

Caudin left early that night, having done what he set out to do. He was three winding blocks from the market when he felt the almost forgotten prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Were the scouts playing with him? Or was this a spy?

He kept his pace the same and turned down an alley, flattening himself against the wall. He waited, then grabbed the person by the collar as they turned into the alley. He stopped short of slamming the person against the wall only because the whole thing felt very familiar.

“Ainle?” he asked.

“Ainler,” she responded, pushing the hem of her cowl back to the crown of her head to show her face.

“Why are you following me?” he asked.

“Why are you dressed that way?”

“It’s cold out and I wanted to shield myself-”

“Please, don’t. You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

He said nothing, not knowing what to say.

“I followed you tonight. I finally got the courage to know, one way or another. I wanted to see what she looked like.”

“Who?”

“You’re interest in me has dropped significantly. You spend many nights out with men who get flustered when I ask them to corroborate your whereabouts. When you finally come to bed, you smell like sweat, not like cigar smoke or strong drink. What was I supposed to think? I lost our child and the pain must have made you wander.”

“You thought I was having an affair?”

“I was almost positive you were. It explained everything.”

“I’m not.”

“I know. I almost wish you were.”

“What would you have me do, wait until they kill you? Or me? They wouldn’t give me war, so I’m forcing Sayen to declare it against Arvonne. Then the Principals will have no choice but to give me what I want.”

“Revenge.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“This won’t end well.”

“Likely not, but I will at least have done something. I can’t sit and wait for the next attempt. I can’t step out the door any more, riding in carriages wondering if someone on the street has a knife they’ll bury in my ribs the first chance they get. I’m tired of being scared. I was, I should say. I haven’t felt fear since I started this.”

“You’re leading a hundred and fifty people to slaughter innocent people because of who they are.”

“Likely. I will try not to. I only want a few people dead. The rest I hope to leave to the chaos.”

She cupped his face with her hand. “Is there nothing I can say to stop this?”

“No. Give me this. Let me settle the debts. Then, I will return sated.”

She sighed, then pulled out a pouch from her cloak. He heard the tinkling sound of lacquered tiles hitting each other. She pulled out a rune and placed it in his hand, not bothering to look at it before she left. He left the alley and held it up to the nearest alley to read it. It read “A”. Death.

* * *

When he told her he was leaving for the Temenrinde ten days later, she looked at him with sad eyes and nodded. He kissed her and she returned it, though she left with unspilled tears and didn’t say farewell.

His driver had been instructed well and bribed to let him out in a small town called Briona and to wait for him there. Caudin changed and took a horse to the rendezvous point of a little farm west of Briona, a place the quartet had stayed at before reaching Eri Ranvel almost two year prior. He found the camp well-concealed from the road. They headed out the next morning, the scouts already staggered hours and days ahead of them.

They reached Erifana towards the end of March early enough in the day to attack that night. The scouts and corralers trickled in, getting comfortable. The archers found key positions. A squad took a ferry across to the small village Sayen had bullied from Kitstuar. Caudin wished he could join them, if only to personally stab those two guards that had talked crassly about Anla, but he knew they would be dead either way.

The rest of the day was spent waiting for the sun to kiss the horizon. Finally, he heard Kavrin’s whistle pierce the air and he turned back to the group. “It’s time,” he said, drawing his sword from his scabbard. “Remember the targets.”

He had just one and he walked straight for him. He was joined by his own private force, handpicked for being both intimidating and handy with a sword. Everyone on the street ducked away when they saw them, some gasping or screaming. He didn’t pay them any heed.

The city hall was on a hill, a few blocks from the river. He could already see the crowds below being forced to head to locations by the corrallers. Carts, carriages, and any other mobile, wooden items were pushed into alleys and set ablaze while the most menacing of his crew banged on shields and yelled. The corralers had what might have been the hardest job: breaking the spirit of the people.

Caudin pushed open the doors to the city hall, sending a few men scrambling for cover. “Greetings,” he said in Sayenese, grabbing the closest man he could find and holding a knife to his throat. “We want every man in this building brought into this room. You,” he said, pointing to a young, scrawny man, “will fetch the harbormaster and bring him here in ten minutes. For every ten minutes we don’t have our men, one of yours will die.”

The young man ran off. “We have the building surrounded. If anyone leaves, they die and someone in here will die. Get everyone in here now.”

Two men volunteered to round up anyone who was still in their offices. “Who are you?” a man asked as they waited. “Why are you doing this?”

“Start with a man’s basic, most primal needs and work your way up from there.”

The harbormaster made it in with the young man before the rest of the men in the same building. “What is this?” he asked, huffing to catch his breath. “The city is on fire and there’s screams in the air.”

“We are here to right wrongs,” Caudin said. “You men unfortunately represent a king who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. He killed, he stole, he lied, he cheated. He beggared a nation, all so he could have, what? A portal to the sea.”

“Arvonne fell,” an older man said. “They weren’t using the Mielsa. Our king made a deal with the new nation. There’s no shame in that!”

“Only if he hadn’t poured resources into causing the fall in the first place.”

The dozen or so men in the room looked at each other. “Is it true?”

“The old chancellor confessed.” That wasn’t a lie. He had right before he’d spent his first of eighteen days in a pillory with a cigar burn on his forehead.

“That’s unfortunate,” the old man said, “but what’s it to do with us?”

“We are Arvonnese and we’re taking back the Mielsa, starting with Erifana. I take it you’re the mayor?” he asked the old man.

“I am. Is there some sort of arrangement we can come to?”

“The pain is too great, the injustice too long.”

“So, we men who were asked to take jobs here, who never lifted a finger against an Arvonnese man or woman, must pay for what our military did?”

“For what your king did, and if you are loyal you’ll take his punishment instead.”

“This will solve nothing and will only anger our king.”

“I hope so.”

He snapped his fingers and the mayor was brought before him. “Each of you gets a man in this room. Whether you kill him or not is up to you. I get this man and the harbormaster.”

Caudin had wondered if he would feel sated when he slit their sobbing throats. He wondered if he’d feel empty or alive or regretful. He felt nothing. He regretted taking a man from his family, but not killing Sayenese. Even when he had killed in contracts he’d felt regret, and he’d spoken to these two men more than he had any of his targets.

It dawned on him as the groans and screams filled the room, as he pulled out a satchel of somewhat melted chocolates and stuffed them into the dead mayor’s mouth. This was the first contract he’d ever completed for himself. And it made the world feel balanced again. Not right, not wrong, but as it should be.

His men followed him to the harbor, where he forced the assistant to point out which ships were Sayenese and which were foreign. He needn’t have bothered; after a few, he could tell from the curling scrollwork in gold along the decks that his grandfather had wanted the world to look at his fleet with envy. They were beautiful ships that burned just as easily as any other, his archers lighting the decks with lit arrows. The new shipyard and the offices burned just as easily, too.

Once the city was gutted, he joined the large gathering of huddled families. They said nothing, just staring, until he spoke in their tongue. “People of Erifana, you must leave. Take your loved ones and go. We have burned your ships and killed your leaders. Erifana is Arvonnese once more.”

It was a bluff. They had no way to keep the Sayenese out of Erifana once they left. But, having tarnished the city and destroyed their livelihood, perhaps they wouldn’t want to return even if it were empty.

They picked a section with the nicer houses, evicting the occupants who had holed themselves in the servant’s quarters in the basement. One of the women had two children with her, a girl and a boy, twins about the age he had been evicted from a city with ships afire. They ate well and stole as much jewelry and money as they could find, divvying it up a part to a man, with ten parts to Caudin.

Kavrin joined him, a bottle of Caudet in his hands. “I figgered it out,” he said, that obviously not his first drink. “Yer benefactor wanted to rob the Mielsha cuz the people here are rich. Thaz why yer takin’ suh much.”

“It was one of the reasons,” he lied, “and a main one.”

“I dunno if iz fair.”

“He could have charged you for your weapons, your training, to rent the market, for your horse and armor. He chose to gamble our successful future to bankroll his past.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Would you like to pay him back your stipend and pay for all the equipment you own?”

“No.”

“Then, let’s let him have his larger share.”

Frankly, Caudin had no idea what he’d do with some of the items. He tried to choose things that would be harder to sell, planning to keep it somewhere dark for a long time.

He found a spare bedroom far from everyone else, propping a dresser against the door. After shucking his cloak and scarf, he crawled into bed and prepared to fall asleep quickly. But, he didn’t. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be in his bed with his wife. He wanted the stability of his day, making decisions and attending events. He wanted to see his friends. He’d gone from being Raulin and never wanting to be Caudin, to being Raulin and wishing to be Caudin so very badly.

And yet he didn’t regret anything. It was only when they road out the next day that he began to feel that, perhaps, the means weren’t justifying the ends. He saw a gambit of emotions from his crew. Most seemed happy, joyous at their earnings and their victory. A few seemed excessively pleased and Caudin felt a little revulsion at how triumphant they were at slaughtering unarmed men. It reminded him of Arvarikor after the first round of assassinations were complete. The swagger of children thinking taking blood meant being a man.

Harder was watching those who had wanted a taste of revenge and wound up choking on it. They stared ahead, their eyes unfocused, their faces rigid. He watched them carefully.

One of his scouts walked up next to his roan. “Did we do well, sir?” she asked.

“Our objectives were met with no loss. We came to make our cause heard and hear it they shall all the way to Sayen.”

“But, did we do well?”

He looked down, wondering what she meant. “We couldn’t have done better.” When she seemed uncertain, he continued, guessing. “If you are wondering if what we’ve done is ethical, then I won’t lie to you. This was never about doing anything heroic. We are doing ugly deeds to people who don’t deserve it. The nation must pay. Unfortunately, that means people will die who were just doing their duty.”

Later, Isken approached him, speaking Merakian. “There’s some unease with the greener people.”

“I thought as much.”

“I would recommend a speech.”

“Feel free to give one.”

“This seems like a thing you are better at than I. They listen to my commands because I have proven that I am superior in what we are doing. But, they do not trust me. I am not Arvonnese.”

“You are. Special dispensation.” He grinned. “But, I hear what you’re saying and I will speak later tonight.”

He waited until just prior dinner to speak.

“Some of you are proud and excited about our success in Erifana. We did well and I am pleased.” He waited while the group cheered in response.

“Some of you, however, have doubts.” He held his hand up at the protests. “Not everyone reacts to violence the same way. Some of you are feeling sickened or unsure about what we did. I am not here to berate you for feeling this way.

“What we came to do was destroy a symbol. The Mielsa River Valley being in the hands of Sayen is a symbol of the misery Arvonne has suffered for the last twenty years. That symbol is made of people, real people who are fathers and neighbors and parishioners. Many of them were born in Sayen, relocated two decades ago to Erifana, and did nothing to warrant what we did to them. They may have even sent charity to Arvonne. They were good people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“It is healthy to feel guilty about that,” he said quietly, the attention of every man and women on him. “It could even be the right thing to feel. And that is because we are good people doing something terrible. We did well at it, but we still killed men and left people without jobs and homes.

“It is now the time to look inward and see what this has left. I know that many of you signed up never having killed or seen a man killed before. It does something to some people. Some cannot take it, no matter how many times you practiced stabbing a man and imagined your hands around their throats. Thinking and doing are two different things. I will not force anyone to do it again. Come to me tonight and speak with me about your feelings. If I cannot convince you to stay, then you may leave.

“If you choose to stay, then we will march on. We have a few more locations to hit before I fear Sayen will retaliate. I will be with you for the next, but after that I must report our success to my benefactor. We will meet again for the last and we will have one final retaking of our lands. I hope you will be there with me.”

There was clapping and cheering after his speech. That night, only four sought him out. Three he couldn’t convince to stay, though he kept those talks short. Caudin could tell immediately that they couldn’t handle it and he sent them back to Eri Ranvel with a horse, coin, and some provisions. He gave them the kindness he was never allowed to have.

Monrei-al, once called Asentrie, was a town twenty miles north that worked as a warehouse and supply hub for Erifana. Again, the plan went off without a hitch, all the timber set ablaze and the iron dumped into the river. Caudin killed the mayor and a few members of his crew were able to enact their own vendettas.

He left them the next day, saying he would be back in two weeks’ time, and rode to Briona. He mailed letters there as the King and took a casual walk around town before leaving once more for Mielsa. He could smell the char in the air as he rode farther north.

Finally, he came across Linesta unmolested. He stopped short of the town, one of the major shipyards for Erifana, and wondered why they hadn’t reached it yet. He turned and went back until he spotted their camp sign hanging from a tree. He dismounted and led his horse into the forest.

There were things he picked up on before entering the clearing: large mounds in the distance, the smell of something rotten and unpleasant, and the absolute quiet of the camp. Birds still sang off in the distance, but there were no sounds of trees being chopped or conversation. Just a solitary campfire crackling and popping.

Once he reached the edge of the clearing, he froze. There were several large trees that had been cleared of their fire-facing branches, each with something in front of it. No, not just in front, but tied. There were two not far from the path he took and he could hear the buzzing of flies.

He wrapped the reins around a bush and ran over to the closest tree. A short, coppery-skinned man was tied tightly to the trunk with ropes. Caudin stepped close, then jerked away in shock when he finally pieced together the situation. It was Isken. He was dead.

“My friend,” he whispered hoarsely. “How?”

“I don’t speak whatever language that is, but if you’re wondering how he died, it was dehydration,” a voice said in Sayenese. “Not a pleasant way to go, if it can be judged by the screams and moans they made.” Caudin turned to face him, a man that wore a kerchief over his mouth and nose. “These were your lieutenants, yes? We tied them to a tree and let them watch while we slaughtered every single one of your mercenaries. Then, we left them with skins of water around their necks while they slowly died, waiting for you to return and tip a few precious drops into their mouths. That one,” he said, pointing to Isken, “lasted far longer than the others. He was a bastard to keep tied up, too. All the same, he died.”

It would be extremely sensible to run at that moment. However, Caudin heard the sounds of several men walking behind and to the sides of him. And he wanted to know. Whoever this man was, he seemed like he wanted to speak. “Why?” he asked.

“Why? You ask ‘why’? Because you have severely angered the King, you idiot. You took a band of brigands and tried burning the Mielsa and you didn’t think there will be repercussions? Did you think His Radiance wouldn’t be protecting the valley with an army after Arvonne was retaken?” He gestured with two fingers and strong hands grabbed his arms.

While he struggled, the man dropped his kerchief and approached him. Caudin recognized him as the Sayenese ambassador that was there the night they retook Dilvestrar and again at his coronation. “Sorry. It’s not intrigue, it’s the smell. We’ve been waiting days for you to return and we just tossed the bodies in a big pile. We’ll set them on fire later. Now, you,” he said, jerking the scarf down. “As suspected. You’re a bigger moron than I suspected, Your Radiance.”

“And what was I supposed to do?” he snarled. “Wait while my grandfather sent more of the Network until one of them finally succeeded? My wife ate those chocolates you sent!”

“She survived,” he said, nonchalantly. “Too bad about your child. Congratulations on fatherhood, Your Radiance.”

Caudin fought against the men holding him, stomping sideways on one man’s knee only to have another man take his place quickly. He spit on the ground.

“What you should have done was grovel,” the ambassador said. “Signed a proclamation giving us the Mielsa, and perhaps some of Tapenstri, too. His Radiance might have been pleased with just that and some other promises, who knows? But, no, you cocksure son of a bitch, you were too proud, too naive, too stupid. You were going to march in and take all of Arvonne back, and the Mielsa, too!”

“I wasn’t going to touch the Mielsa until after the Convocation.”

“His Radiance didn’t really care what your plans were. He knew that sending assassins against you would only be a win for him. You either caved and negotiated, did nothing and looked weak, or did something stupid like this. He was hoping you would. He’s not a young man and he’d rather be able to tie up all the loose ends before His Highness the Prince takes his place. He was counting on something like this. Watch, men, and see how I can make an arrogant fool dance!” He leaned in and whispered, “Let me tell you exactly what I’m going to do to your wife once you’re dead…”

Caudin was straining and clenching his teeth in a matter of seconds. The men in the camp laughed as he fought and fought against the men holding him.

“Ah, don’t worry, Your Radiance. It will likely be a one-time occasion, since I’m sure so many other men would be interested. Or maybe I won’t get the chance at all. Your cousin has a slight fascination with elves. I’m sure she’d make an excellent concubine.”

“What do you want?” he asked. “I won’t beg for my life. Just kill me now and be done with it.”

The ambassador rolled his eyes. “It’s going to take a lot to break you of that, huh, boy? No, I’m actually not going to kill you. I’ve been waiting for days just to make sure you saw this and knew it was all your fault. Now that my job is done, I can leave and be done with this accursed forest. And you, boy, you can go home with your tail tucked between your legs and wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“War. Sayen officially declares war on Arvonne.”

“For taking back what is lawfully ours? It won’t hold. We’ll call the Empire and obliterate you all within the Accords.”

“Which would work, if that was the cause. No, the justification is Arvonne being ruled by an impostor. His Radiance feels so distraught that a fake is ruling from his beloved daughter and son-in-law’s throne, using his power to attack Sayenese lands, that he feels no choice but to declare war.”

“He knows I’m his grandson.”

“He doesn’t really care. Now that you’ve done this, he has cause enough to finally solidify Sayen’s hold of the Mielsa. And we’ll carve some choice bits, too, while we’re at it, when you die in battle and Arvonne sues for peace.

“So, I believe, as the aggressor, His Radiance said ‘May the First’. As the aggrieved, you get to choose the location.”

He thought quickly. Choosing any place not on the border would be costly. The Sayenese could march through a town and essentially take what they needed for provisions. He also wouldn’t trust them. “Payenre,” he said.

“Uninspired, but it will do. See you in battle on Ap Jorsen’s Day, boy. You best practice your fencing since His Radiance will have his choice of seconds.”

The men let him go. His back itched as he retrieved his horse, but no arrow or knife came. They did want him alive and he wondered why it wasn’t easier to kill him on the road.

It was a long trip to Briona. His carriage driver was still waiting and took him back to Eri Ranvel, where he had to pretend everything was fine. He smiled and waved to the crowds, went through the gates of Dilvestrar, and went straight to his room. One of the maids found him sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, and ran to find the Queen.

“Caudin?” she asked. He looked up at her, his eyelashes wet with tears. “What happened?” she asked, sitting next to him on the floor.

He told her everything. He couldn’t even speak through his sobs when he recounted the scene he had found in the woods. She fetched a glass of water, then rubbed his back while he calmed down enough to tell her what the ambassador had said.

“You live,” she said. “You came back to me. You should be dead.”

“I should be,” he agreed, wiping his eyes. “I’m so sorry. You were right.”

She pulled his head to her breast and stroked his head. “Maybe now you understand why I can’t enact revenge on people.”

“I’m beginning to.”

“Why did he keep you alive?”

“Legalities, really,” he said, moving away from her. “If they killed me and sent my body to Eri Ranvel, the Principals could deny it was me and state that the King was missing and his council could make laws in his stead, until he was found or declared dead. The King of Sayen wants this done. This way, he challenges me legally in battle, there is no denying I live or die.”

“You said nobles can’t fight each other.”

“Yes, he won’t be fighting. He’ll have a second and so will I. The problem is, Sayen still has tourneys and jousting and knights. He has the best of the best when it comes to dueling champions. Arvonne suspended those events when it fell into the Kalronists hands. I have no second.”

“You do,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.

“Al?” he asked. “He’s weeks away. He’ll never make it in time. And we’re talking a man who’s spent less than five years on the worst weapon to duel with.”

“We still have to try.”

He stared ahead, then nodded. “Maybe if I send a messenger…” He sighed and stood. “I need to call the council immediately. I’ll see you there.”

“I have good…” she began, but he had already stalked out of the room. She took a deep breath and smoothed out her dress. Some other time.