The king’s ale was good, but that wasn’t surprising. He was the king, after all. We sat at a roughly hewn wooden table in the soldiers’ mess area. Michael nursed a mug and stared intently at me. Nervously, I sipped my ale and glanced over at Rafe. He lazed backwards in his chair and took a large gulp of his drink.

Michael shot him a glance.

“Really? A little early to start a binge, isn’t it?”

Rafe shrugged. “You’re the one who gave us ale. I’m just showing my appreciation of your generosity.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

Rafe suggested, “If you’ve got something you want to ask, spit it out. The poor fellow is practically pissing himself wondering what you’re going to do with him.”

Michael sighed.

“Paol, you have nothing to fear from me. You’ve done the kingdom a service, and I thank you for it. Not to call you a liar, but I hope what you’ve told us is wrong. I’m not really in the mood for another war, and if it's an army led by...the people you say you’ve seen, it will be bad.”

“These...people. Like Julius?" I asked hesitantly.

Michael nodded grimly.

“If it was truly him and if he’s not alone in invading the kingdom, there will be war--terrible and destructive. Paravel is not ready for such a war. No kingdom is ready for that kind of war.”

Michael raised his cup to his lips and then placed it carefully on the table in front of him.

“Rafe tells me you know of the Two Hundred.”

I froze. It had been foolish of me to mention that. I had been so eager for answers from Rafe that I had revealed knowledge of something that was clearly not common knowledge. I had been dreading an inquiry into it.

“Where did you hear of us?”

I lied, “Kyrie said something about it. He didn’t have time to go into detail because we were running for our lives, but it sounded important to me.”

My elbow was pressed against Veritas’s hilt. I felt something odd in that contact but ignored it. This conversation was too important to get distracted.

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“What exactly did he say?”

“I don’t remember exactly. He kind of said it under his breath right before he ordered me to run.”

That would make sense to them since Julius was apparently one of the 200.

Michael said slowly, “It’s very odd that he would mention it to anyone. We almost never speak of it.”

I babbled, “Well, I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about, and he didn’t really seem to be saying it to me. It just sort of came out in all the confusion. The situation was tense, and we were facing an entire company of orcs.”

Rafe snorted.

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, Michael. The orcs were just fodder. If it really was Kyrie and if he had been back for any extended length of time, they wouldn’t have been any kind of challenge.”

Michael said softly, “Julius would most certainly have been a challenge.”

A somber expression crossed Rafe’s face, and he took another gulp of ale.

Michael turned to me as if to ask another question, and I saw Barnabas walk into the mess area. I waved him over.

“Barnabas would be thrilled to meet you, Michael, sir! Perhaps you could say a few words to him?”

Michael frowned slightly at me before turning to the awestruck Barnabas with a polite nod.

“Soldier, be welcome to our table. Would you like to sit?”

Barnabas’s eyes were wide as he slid onto the bench next to me.

Michael smiled slightly to put the young man at ease.

“How long have you served Duke Benedict?”

“Uh, five years, Lord Knight Protector,” he stammered.

“Please, just call me Michael.”

“Yes, Lord, um, Mi-Michael.”

I guess this was what Rafe meant by ‘fanboy.’

“The duke showed great faith in you when he sent you to deliver this urgent message. I commend you for your service.”

Barnabas responded, “I’m happy to serve Duke Benedict. He is a generous master, and I would never have been a squire if it wasn’t for him.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “I gather you’re not of the nobility?”

Barnabas flushed.

“No. Duke Benedict believes that a man is made of more than just his blood. He felt that I was deserving of a position at his court, and I’ve worked hard to be worthy of him,” he said defiantly.

Michael waved his hand absently and said, “Peace, young Barnabas. I am not one of the stubborn nobles who believes that only the nobility can be knights.

The tenseness in Barnabas’s shoulders eased.

Rafe mentioned, “Border lords are often believers in judging worth by a man’s actions. Anyone who lives in an area of possible conflict would be foolish to do otherwise.”

Barnabas offered, “Thank you. Duke Benedict has often made similar comments.”

A soldier in the king’s blue and silver rushed into the mess.

“There you are! My Lord Knight Protector, the king requests your presence. He is meeting with the Council and seeks your wisdom.”

Michael grunted, “That old scarecrow must have burned all his mana to get there so fast.”

Rafe asked, “What do you mean? It sounds like you were expecting this.”

Michael nodded.

“Lord Hellas left immediately after the session last night to reach Duke Benedict.”

My mouth dropped open.

“That’s impossible. We rode for over two weeks to get here!”

Michael said, “Perhaps you remember the lord wearing green when you met with the king and his Council?”

Yes. That was the man who had conjured a black ball of fire over his hand. Lord Sorcerer. Now I knew his name.

“That was Lord Hellas. He is a master mage.”

“But how could he have gone the same distance in one night that we did in two weeks?” I asked incredulously.

Michael rose from the table to leave, and we automatically rose with him.

“He has a spell which allows him to travel swiftly.”

“Swiftly? That’s more than just swift!”

Michael answered, “As I said, he is a master mage. There are only a handful of spellcasters who know the spell Limited Teleportation. Come with me, if you wish. It only makes sense that you are present at Lord Hellas’s report.”

He motioned to Barnabas.

“You as well, soldier. It is your province that we speak of, after all.”

Barnabas nodded quickly and gratefully.

Michael walked swiftly down the corridors. I didn't know my way through the castle, so I followed closely with Barnabas behind me.

Rafe walked by Michael’s side, his longer stride easily keeping pace with Michael’s shorter legs.

He drawled, “That’s quite generous of you, including Barnabas. Very thoughtful. I wouldn’t have expected it from the grim and unyielding Knight Protector.”

Michael was quiet for a moment, rapidly pacing down the hallway.

Finally, he said softly, “It is the Stricture. I...am reminded of what he wanted of us.”

Rafe looked at him incredulously.

“The Stricture? After all this time you’re planning to go along with that nonsense?”

Michael’s face was still, but I sensed tension and a faint sense of grief behind his countenance as he spoke. “It’s what he wanted, and we promised him. All three of us.”

Rafe shook his head angrily. “It’s meaningless. He never even explained why! I’m not going to obey an order three thousand years old just because--”

Michael’s hand cut him off, and his eyes seemed to burn as he grated out, “We promised him, and I have been lax in my duty. I will make up for it. You should as well.”

A bitter look crossed Rafe’s face, and he bit out, “And what of him? He promised to come back! We’re supposed to just blindly follow that stupid request for three thousand years without even the slightest--”

Suddenly, Rafe was against the wall, his collar in Michael’s hand. The force of his body slamming against the stone caused dust to puff out, but Rafe seemed unharmed. Michael’s eyes were like ice.

“We promised,” Michael grated out. “And if this...Paol is right, he is back. Whether it’s three hours or three decades or three thousand years, we made a promise!”

Rafe met his gaze unwaveringly. The anger starkly visible on his face as he spat, “Oh yes, always faithful aren’t you? You’re like a dog, Michael.”

“Be careful, Rafe. Be very careful,” Michael whispered harshly.

Rafe’s face twisted, but then he looked away.

Michael released him and paced down the corridor again until he came to a pair of doors that I recognized would lead into the Council chamber from the day before. Two guards once again stood before it, but they made no move as Michael swept into the chamber with the three of us behind him.

King Ladislas was once again seated at the table with his councilors. A woman that I had not seen before was standing in the center of the room, and all eyes were upon her. She wore a well-tailored black robe that fell to her ankles and puffed around her arms.

King Ladislas said, “Thank you for your promptness, Lord Michael.”

Michael waved his hand irritatedly.

“Is it coming through?”

The black-robed woman nodded. “Yes, I felt contact several minutes ago. He is ready to give his report.”

King Ladislas commanded, “Very well. Let us see what Lord Hellas has found.”

The black-robed woman closed her eyes in concentration and spread both hands wide before her with palms cupped as if she was holding a large bowl. She breathed deeply and slowly. A wrinkled formed on her brow, and she was clearly straining. It looked to me as if she was constipated, but I kept that thought to myself. Belatedly, I casually put my hand on Veritas’s hilt so she would know what was happening.

The air suddenly sparkled between the mage’s hands and then a strange cloudiness seemed to flood out of her fingers only to transform into a sphere of swirling mists and shifting colors.

Magic.

At first, all we saw was the mists, but they abruptly faded to reveal the face of Lord Sor--Lord Hellas.

Black circles of weariness underpinned his eyes, and his wrinkles seemed deeper than when last I had seen him. Though clearly exhausted, his gaze displayed crisp awareness and concentration.

“Your Majesty,” he began. “As you requested, I traveled all night to reach Duke Benedict’s capital of Balinora. I judged that he would return there to prepare if he feared an invasion.”

King Ladislas nodded in approval. “Yes, that was my thinking as well.”

The mage’s lips tightened and lines deepened around his mouth.

“Your Majesty, I found…”

He paused.

“Perhaps you should see for yourself.”

The view in the sphere shifted and seemed to spin as if whoever was holding it was turning around. For a moment I didn’t understand what I saw, and then I realized what it was.

A city with a castle in the center, much like the king’s capital. A well-trod road led up to its gates. The city had clearly been built in imitation of Armenelos. It looked smaller to me than the king’s capital, but that was only to be expected. Fields of wheat and sorghum encircled it, and for just a moment I could just make out a flag the color of mahogany at the top of the keep’s tower before it disappeared. Gray clouds billowed in the air, blocking the sunlight. It could only be Balinora, Duke Benedict’s seat of power in the province of Creshey.

And it was burning.