Kel shouldered his bag bitterly and closed the door behind him as he left the Rootwater Inn. He could still hear Lianna’s muffled sniffling somewhere below. Where would he go? After all, leaving wasn’t his choice. This second exodus would be less hurried and more of a lingering farewell. He considered going to speak to Beverly, but he hadn’t seen her in some weeks and honestly he was afraid she would greet him with the same look that Valir had sent him away with.It was still the middle of the night and there could be more of those mercenaries in town. If they had come by the Rootwater Inn, then they would probably be checking other inns and taverns, like the Mare. That ruled out another safe space.

Just then, a figure loped toward him in the greenish lamp-light. “Going somewhere?” Jasper had returned, limping gingerly down the central promenade back toward the Rootwater Inn. He looked like he was feeling much better, but not wholly himself just yet.

“Something happened and I have to go. I…I’m the one who hurt Lianna. Valir said I had to go.” Kel was rambling but he didn’t care.

Jasper didn’t seem at all surprised, but his face was full of concern. “So where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m looking for someone. Maybe I’ll find him.” His head was buzzing “If I travel toward the capital, I think I might find him.”

“Oh.” Jasper didn’t say anything for a moment. “Give me just a few minutes. Go to the center of the courtyard - I want to talk with you before you leave.” He gave the boy a half-smile and made his way into the Inn.

Kel took his time, meandering through the central promenade with its cobbled walkways and vendor stalls and flowers and bushes, all covered under the great branches of the five trees. During the day, little rays of sunlight would filter through the needles above. Now, it was starlight that winked at him from myriad stars above. Unlike the daylight hours, there were very few people around. Stalls were closing and most folks had already gone home to have supper. A few lovers strolled among among the flowers, some of them finding dark nooks in which to steal away from prying eyes. An Old man sat on a bench, taking in the starlit scenery. Kel walked a bit more until he found himself a bench, right near the very center of Five Pines, and rested.

Sitting here, he realized just how magnificent Five Pines was as a town. There was likely no place like it in the rest of the world. Something about being surrounded by the great trees made him feel safe.

He was going to miss this place, but it didn’t feel right staying here after what had happened. More of those mercenaries would come, if they weren’t here already. And even if they didn’t, he couldn’t risk running into Valir or Lianna again. After what had happened, there was no way he could face them. More importantly, he refused to put them in any more danger. He felt a pang. Every time he felt like he had a home, that was when he ended up having to move on again. First, his life with Caaron. Now the short time he had had with Valir and Lianna and Jasper. Would he ever be able to truly belong somewhere? Could he do so without his loved ones getting hurt? Was he cursed?

Kel was suddenly less worried about Valir and more worried about Caaron. If those men had access to the note, it didn’t bode well for his former mentor. Despite his calm surroundings, a feeling of helplessness was growing. Was Caaron okay? Even more pressing: if he wasn’t, what could Kel even do about it?

Before Kel’s thoughts could spiral much further, Jasper was there, a travel pack and his lute slung over his back. “While I think you have a solid plan and all, I feel like you may be better served with a companion at your side.”

Kel felt his heart leap. “Are you serious!? This is great!” After a moment, though, his face fell. “What about you…and Valir?”

“She understands,” he said, but he wouldn’t look Kel in the eyes. “Or at least she will.” He patted Kel on the back and they started walking.

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Petyr rolled over and yawned. The sun was shining through stained glass windows and onto the four-poster bed, making the room insufferably hot. He was not used to the heat here - in his home, winds blew from the south and the east shores, winding up through the old but venerable castle’s stone walls and halls like spirits bent on creating discomfort. He was used to bundling up at home, or dressing down while encamped. The chancellor’s mansion was was uncomfortable in a different way - stifling and humid.

The previous night had not gone quite as well as he had hoped. During dinner, the chancellor had mostly offered pleasantries and polite conversation about inoffensive topics - nothing about his previous comments on the Imperial bloodline, nor did he mention Petyr’s purpose for the visit: the accusation that both the courts of Zephyrost and Sephiria were riddled with Imperial spies. Instead, he had told the boy amusing (at least in his mind) stories about trade deals and political intrigues at court.

It was strange. All through dinner, Petyr had felt like he was being watched. The servants seemed sullen and overly alert. He was taken care of, to be sure, but there was a nagging hostility hanging in the air despite his host’s jovial tone. When it had been time to retire, the chancellor had made it clear that this was to be their last conversation before his departure.

Still, as he made his way down the wood-paneled hall, Petyr urged his escort to take a detour before they taking his leave. The page knocked on the door, offering a polite introduction, and waved Petyr in with a forced smile.

“Chancellor, I was wondering if I could have a word.”

His erstwhile host sat at the table, scribing something while he sipped wake-brew with his free hand. Petyr surely did not envy how busy the politician seemed to be, despite his reservations about his character.

“Sure, my lord, though I must say I really believed our business to be concluded.”

“Well, I had to say, I really wished to speak with the King. I know all diplomatic matters are vetted through you and the council, but I had always dreamed of meeting the King of our ally nation.

“Well, even royals are to be disappointed every now and again.”

“Even so, would you mind passing him a missive?” He pulled out the piece of parchment, folded and locked in a manner such that it could be opened only once.

"Certainly." The Chancellor smiled with fleeting warmth. "Safe travels, your grace."

Petyr took his time admiring the newer art in the hallway as he prepared to leave. This was the true test, he knew. If that letter made it to the King, there was a chance for success. Even so, his mission wasn’t a pass or fail instance - he was here for information. The next few minutes would tell him all he needed to know.

A groom had just harnessed his fine white horse and was handing Petyr the reigns when the guards appeared. This was one of the expected outcomes, but the young noble was not particularly happy about it.

“The chancellor wishes to see you,” a particularly gruff guard came forward and grabbed Petyr by the arm. It was an affront that he would ignore, for now.

“Truly? And here I thought our business was concluded.” Petyr maintained his balance, walking gracefully despite the guard’s attempts to shake him. “He only said it about three times. Are you sure?”

“Gravely,” the man replied, grimacing unpleasantly.

The letter was sitting on the table, unfolded, the lock torn.

“So much for discretion. To what do I owe the intrusion?” Petyr frowned.

The chancellor looked up from the paper work he had apparently been working on just before they brought Petyr in. “All missives to the king are inspected now. Foul sorcery has been employed before. There are poisons that paint clear onto parchment. We must do our due diligence.”

“You and I both know you weren’t checking my note for poison.”

The chancellor merely gave him a grim smile. “Imagine, one of the scions of the Empire fighting against it. I never would have dreamed of such a thing.”

“Do you not long for independence, chancellor? Sephiria is a proud nation that once fought back the Fey themselves. How is it that you can stand to be a vassal of the Empire?”

“Careful, young lord. You overstep. Even a guest can wear out his welcome.”

“My impression, dear chancellor, was that I already had." He stared evenly at the older man. "And then you had these fine gentlemen call me back. But now here we are. Please, sir. Let me speak with the king - let me reason with him."

"I refuse to allow a boy to bother his majesty, even if he is a prince. What can you really have to say to him?

Petyr stiffened. "I come to remind the King of alliances that were formed with brotherhood and not bloodshed. That even though you pay tribute to an Empire, they do not own the soul of this country."

"You seem to be under the impression that Solaris rules from afar," He drew back his collar to reveal a small tattoo - a small black sun, surrounded by a corona. "I will not allow you to undermine Solarian control of our dear country. The empire is not in the habit of forgiving enemies."

Petyr's eyes widened. This was definitely the worse of the two scenarios. "How will your king feel when he knows that you have fully betrayed your allegiance to the empire?”

“He does know, you fool. It is upon his orders that I act. And he is aware of these ‘spies’ that you speak of - in truth, they are acting on behalf of the royal family. Loyalty to the empire keeps them in power. ”

Petyr was aghast. That couldn’t be right. The late king of Sephiria had been fiercely independent. It was said that his son was even more so. How was this possible?

"Don't you understand!? You can rise up. The whole of Zephyria is aligned to help you be free.”

“We are free, your lordship. Just as free as we were when a king ruled us alone. You see, child, there is no such thing as a good or bad king - only a king. At least with an emperor, that King is beholden to someone. A boy your age may not realize this, but the only people who benefit from war are those at the top. The Illuminated Emperor understands this and is most benevolent in his mercy. I will not risk my neck, nor that of my peers and countrymen, to aid your father’s lunacy.”

All semblance of composure Petyr had was gone the moment the word lunacy crossed the craven politician’s lips. “Coward!” He cried and made to strike the man. His guard easily caught him and hauled him up by his collar.

The chancellor leaned in, his tone never changing from the bored, pedantic drone he had carried the whole time. “Who would you say is the coward? Your father sends you, a boy, to sow sedition against the empire? And I am a coward?”

“My father sends me, a prince, to remind the chancellor and King of Sephiria that it used to be a sovereign kingdom and could be so again.”

“Do not attempt to use words you do not understand, young lord - you are no more a diplomat than I am a king. Sovereign indeed.” The older man sniffed.

Petyr took a deep breath - he had not meant to lose control. A lesser boy would have continued to fight, to insult his enemy. Petyr was nothing if not elevated. “If we’re past words, then, chancellor, I know not what else we can do." He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had seen his father make a thousand times in frustration. “And so our alliance truly is lost.”

“All is allied when it falls under the grand empire of Solaris,” the chancellor snarled. “Take him away.”