“That’s the one, my Lord,” Covin said, nodding at a young maid who was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the already gleaming floor.

The room was abuzz with conversation. His father was hosting an informal tea party for the southwestern lords in an attempt to win them over. His father and brothers were working the room around them, as was Lepon.

“Are you sure?” Atri asked, already knowing that a man as meticulous as Covin would be.

On the surface, life in the palace had returned to normal, but security had been increased considerably since the attempt on his life. The comings and goings of all the servants were tightly but covertly monitored. This was a top-secret affair, known only to Solon, Atri, Covin and his handpicked guards.

“She entered the palace ten days ago,” Covin said, “her references seemed ordinary enough at first glance, but something smelled funny to me. I had my men lean on one of her former employees, and he confessed to being paid in silver by a relative to vouch for her.”

Atri nodded grimly. “And this relative?”

“We’re chasing that lead down now,” Covin replied, “I apologize for the delay, but I haven’t many men at my disposal.”

Atri felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face as he watched the maid work in the periphery of his vision. He didn’t like this cloak and dagger business. He’d take an open fight on the battlefield over this any day of the week.

“Should we detain her now?” Covin asked, “she’s scheduled to clean Master Lepon’s quarters with two other maids this afternoon. Who knows what mischief she could get up to in there.”

Atri bit his lip thoughtfully. The Chancellor’s quarters were large, and there was a chance she could set up a trap to assassinate him while in there. A poisoned pin on a chair, poison in his personal collection of liquor, or any other imaginative scheme that Atri lacked the malicious guile to conceive. At length, he shook his head.

“No, we need her to lead us to her employers,” he said at length, “are the two other maids trustworthy?”

Covin nodded. “They’ve been with the palace for years, and I’ve vetted them thoroughly.”

“Give this one some room then. Let’s see if she does anything to implicate herself, or her employers,” Atri replied, not liking it one bit, “she’s the only lead we have.”

“Yes, my lord,” Covin said. There was a weariness in his voice that told Atri that he didn’t care at all for this whole business either, “it is risky though.”

“We need to take risks,” Atri said grimly. He thought of the creatures he encountered beneath the streets of Duten and couldn’t help but wonder if they were out prowling beneath the streets of Gradja as well. They had to find out more and gain concrete evidence that would allow him to act openly against the Church. Atri tried to think of just what sort of evidence could move the League to move against the Church and came up short.

His attention was then drawn to the stocky frame of Baron Lest approaching him. Covin excused himself to give the two men some privacy.

“Baron Lest, how may I be of service today?” Atri asked politely.

“Your father has agreed to speak with me privately,” the baron said brusquely, “I want you to come with me.”

Atri raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Me?”

The baron nodded irritably. “Yes, I am going appeal to your father for help to put these insurrections down. It is in your interests to do so, you know.”

Atri nodded politely, though he didn’t agree.

“But you won’t agree, and I know you will have the honour to voice your objections to my face, instead of behind my back if you are present for this discussion,” Lest continued, “so, let’s the two of us hash this out in front of your father.”

“That’s fine by me,” Atri agreed.

“Rumours are that the Renfians have raised an army of two hundred thousand for their Vetorian campaign,” Atri remarked, as they walked over to his father.

Lest grunted. “So I’ve heard.”

“I don’t see how we can match such numbers without conscripting the common folk,” Atri continued, “and to do that, we need to get them on our side.”

“The way I see it, young Master Atri,” Lest said. His face turned crimson as he struggled to keep his infamous temper in check, “the peasant uprisings are a greater existential threat to me than any Renfian army.”

“Once Renfy takes Vetory, it’s only a matter of time before they set their sights on Gothria,” Atri pointed out.

“And if someone doesn’t put a stop to the uprisings, my head could be on a spike before the new year,” Lest hissed.

“All I’m saying is consider de-escalation, baron,” Atri said, “win them over, and all sides could be better off. The nobility and the peasantry need each other.”

“Win them over?” Lest scoffed, “they just need to be reminded of their place in the world.”

“Prince Solon,” Lest said expansively before Atri could reply, “may I have a word in private?”

Solon gave Atri a curious look before turning his attention back to the baron. “Of course, let’s adjourn to my study.”

“Those pestilential peasants have just taken one of my armouries!” Lest roared once Atri closed the door behind him. Kotro and Lepon had also joined them for this private discussion.

“They’ve butchered the garrison and taken possession of over two hundred of my muskets,” Lest continued angrily.

Lepon hurried over to the sideboard and fetched the baron a snifter of whiskey. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that, baron,” he said soothingly, “that is quite alarming news.”

The baron drained the glass in one long swallow. “That’s almost three hundred guns they’ve taken from me now,” the baron said, “and once I’m gone, they’ll be pointed right at the lords in your inner circle whose lands border mine.”

Solon frowned. “That is most troubling,” he agreed. He turned to Kotro, “I have just heard that many of the lords who participated in the last battle against Renfy reported an alarmingly high number of missing weapons, mostly from units raised from their peasantry.”

Kotro cleared his throat and glanced at Atri before speaking, “yes, however, it is typical for up to ten per cent of weapons to go missing after a victorious battle. Some of it is petty theft, but sometimes arms are captured, or destroyed, or simply left behind during a withdrawal.”

“And how many percent of arms went missing after the last battle?” Solon asked.

“Around twenty percent,” Kotro replied uneasily, “thirteen percent, or roughly eighty weapons that were issued to our own people’s battalion went unaccounted for.”

“There you have it,” Lest said triumphantly, “Despite your efforts to appease them, even your own peasants plotting to overthrow you.”

“Firearms are currently forbidden to the peasantry,” Lepon pointed out, “despite their usefulness for hunting. Winter is coming, and there will be wolves and bears to worry about.”

“That’s not why they’re being looted, and you know it,” Lest snapped, “we have long past the time we can afford to overlook the schemes of our peasants.”

“I’m inclined to agree with the baron,” Solon sighed at length.

“So, here I am, prostrating myself before you, begging you to help me put this rebellion down once and for all,” Lest said, flashing Atri a triumphant look.

“Father, please,” Atri said, stepping forward. His brain was working furiously. He knew his father was about to agree to help the baron, which would crush the rebellion and result in reprisal against the people who had cast their lords out, “I have something of a rapport with Gavik of Gofeldin.”

“You’ve met the leader of the rebellion?” Lest roared, “and you didn’t cut him down or bring him back in chains?”

“This is quite the admission,” Solon remarked quietly, “do you know what it could look like if word of that left this room?”

Atri glanced at Lepon, who looked as shocked as his father at his admission. He had deliberately omitted the fact that they had joined forces when investigating the barrows because he knew it would be harmful to his father.

“I know father,” he said, choosing his words very carefully, “but I believe he is a fair man. He has spared every lord he has overthrown and their families.”

“I agree that it is a point in his favour,” Solon said quickly, to stave off another eruption from the baron, “but the fact remains that he is an outlaw who has rebelled against the order of our society.”

“Let me speak with him before you decide to march on the rebel provinces,” Atri pleaded, “let me see if we can resolve this without bloodshed.”

“Please, father,” Atri begged when he saw that his father was teetering, “if we handle this properly, perhaps we can resolve things to everyone’s satisfaction.”

He then addressed the baron, “I know what will happen once the rebellion is crushed. There will be inquisitions by the lords who were cast out. That cannot happen. Our people still bear the scars from the last one. Look how far the church’s influence has declined since. We cannot afford for the same to happen to us. Not with Renfy, Siaro, and now a resurgent Calfurion Empire at our doorstep.”

“Speak with him,” Solon sighed at length, “but I will accept nothing less than his unconditional surrender, and for him to submit himself to our judgement.”

Atri bit his lip as the baron looked incredulously between the prince and his youngest son.

“I will try father,” Atri said at length, knowing he had nothing to lose.

“You cannot be serious!” Lest exclaimed, “I cannot wait that long. If this Gavik of Gofeldin has combined his forces with the rebels in my lands, they could hurt me badly.”

“One week, that’s all I ask,” Atri pleaded desperately.

Lest looked at the prince one last time before exploding. “I cannot afford to wait a day! I must leave for Conlow at once to organize my defences. I only hope it’s not too late by the time you see the futility of trying to reason with these carrion.”

The baron stalked out without waiting for a reply and slammed the door behind him. Solon turned his attention back to his son and heaved a deep sigh.

“My son, I hope you understand the precarious position you’ve placed us in,” he said at length.

Atri nodded glumly. His connection to Gavik, no matter how fleeting, could easily be misconstrued as the Markvists being the rebels’ backers. That would undermine the influence his family had painstakingly built over the years and make them the pariahs of the Continent. Solon and Lepon returned to the party leaving Atri alone in the room with Kotro.

“Why are you sticking your neck out for the rebels, anyway?” Kotro asked.

“I’ve met some of them, and they seem to be normal people like you and me,” Atri replied. He paused before adding, “then there’s the Renfians and Siarons who have managed to convince their peasants to fight for a common cause while we can’t even convince our nobility to do the same.”

Kotro made a face. “You have a point there, brother. The League is doomed. A different system is needed, and we need to decide what it is before others decide it for us.”

Atri raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very mature thought, coming from you. Did you have anything in mind?”

Kotro shrugged and opened the door. “I know my limitations. I’m not smart enough for that. I’ll leave the pondering of that to you and Listel.”

“I didn’t know you held me in such high esteem,” Atri remarked, meaning it.

“Your older brother isn’t as clueless as he looks, eh?” Kotro winked before closing the door behind him.

Now that he was alone, Atri walked over to the large windows overlooking the lake and wondered how he was going to go about arranging a meeting with Gavik. But first, he had something else to deal with.

The maid wiped the broad pinewood desk diligently and without looking up at the other two maids who were busy scrubbing the floor and dusting the shelves on opposite sides of the room. It seemed like a well-oiled machine and there wasn’t the usual chit chat that helped them pass the time. They too felt the stress of having so many distinguished guests in the palace and wanted to be done quickly so that they could carry out their numerous other chores.

Atri watched the maid at the desk quietly through a secret spy hole in the adjacent room, feeling a little guilty that he hadn’t informed Lepon. It felt like an invasion of his privacy even though he was downstairs, trying to defuse the explosive situation that had formed when the baron informed his followers in what was now called the South West Alliance that Atri had a rapport with their nemesis.

Covin was standing next to him, watching from another spyhole. Many of the official studies and offices in the palace had them, even his fathers. Their location was known only to the Markvist family and the most trusted of their inner circle, which included Lepon. The spyholes could be easily blocked off if the occupant of the room wanted some privacy and were easy enough to spot if you knew where to look.

Atri held his breath as he saw the maid hesitate for a fraction of a second. Her movement was deft, but he was sure he had seen her place something under the leather writing pad that dominated the desk.

“Did you see that?” Atri whispered, wanting to be sure.

“She did something to the desk,” Covin remarked, “but I can’t be sure what.”

“It looked like a slip of paper,” Atri said as he watched the maid continue about her work nonchalantly. It looked to him like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“Shall we confront her?” Covin offered.

Atri shook his head. “Continue keeping a close eye on her. We’ll inspect the desk once she’s done.”

“Do you want to summon Master Lepon first?” Covin ventured.

Atri wanted to say yes, but something told him to keep his mentor out of the loop. “Not just yet,” he said, “let’s see what the note says.”

“Do you think he’s involved?” Covin asked hesitantly.

Rovie looked around the small storeroom even though he knew they were alone, before looking Covin in the eye. “I hope not, but let’s be cautious, eh?”

“It would be unthinkable if he was an enemy agent,” Covin said nervously.

“At the moment we don’t know anything yet, so let’s proceed without prejudice, shall we?” Atri snapped.

The tension in the room increased as they impatiently waited for the maids to finish their work and leave the room. They waited for a few minutes before exiting the storeroom into the empty corridor before entering Lepon’s personal study. Atri strode over to the desk and retrieved the slip of paper and examined it.

“Eight PM, herb garden, southwest fountain, two days,” he read aloud.

Covin frowned. “That maid should be nowhere near the herb garden this evening.”

“There could be more than one infiltrator amongst the staff,” Atri said worriedly.

“I’ll work to uncover them,” Covin declared.

Atri bit his lip and placed the scrap of paper carefully back where he had found it as his head reeled. The evidence against Lepon looked damning, but he wasn’t about to denounce him until he was absolutely sure. Lepon felt like one of the family and was one of the few men Atri trusted with his life. He couldn’t possibly be a traitor.

“Perhaps he’s being blackmailed,” he breathed.

“I don’t want to contemplate Master Lepon being a traitor any more than you, but now is not the time to succumb to wishful thinking,” Covin warned, “as you said yourself, we must proceed without prejudice.”

Atri shook his head. “And proceed we shall. Have the herb garden staked out. Discretely. Put as many men as you need on it.”

“The herb garden is close to the perimeter fence, he could be meeting a spy from outside,” Covin pointed out.

Atri nodded. “Have that section of the fence monitored as well.”

Covin nodded and moved towards the door.

“In the meantime,” Atri said, “I am to be taken ill and am confining myself to my quarters.”

“My Lord?” Covin asked quizzically.

“My face would betray my inner turmoil if anyone were to see me,” Atri said, giving Covin a pained look, “we must do nothing to arouse Lepon’s suspicions.”

The clock began chiming, causing Atri to jump. He looked up and saw that it was seven o’clock. He rubbed a bleary eye as he leaned against the polished wood bannister for support.

“Ah, there you are Atri,” Kotro said affably, “I’d ask if you were feeling better, but you look absolutely dreadful. I hope what you have isn’t contagious.”

Atri grunted irritably. He had hardly slept over the last two days and was in no mood to humour his brother. “Where’s Lepon, by the way?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“He said he needed some air after dealing with the southwestern lords all day,” Kotro replied, “I think he’s walking the gardens.”

Atri winced. It was as though someone had twisted a knife in his gut.

Kotro studied his younger brother. “Mother and father are worried about you, you know. You should go see them.”

“Later,” Atri said, as he continued shuffling down the stairs, “I have something to do.”

“Perhaps you’ll explain it to me later,” Kotro called out. Atri walked down the hallway at the next landing without replying.

Atri scarcely acknowledged the servants’ greetings as he walked swiftly down the marble-floored halls. Covin was waiting for him on the patio.

“Anything to report?” Atri asked brusquely.

“I’m afraid we spotted a man dressed all in black emerge from the lake and scale the fence,” Covin replied, “I thought it was prudent to leave him unmolested. Last I checked, he’s hiding amongst some bushes in the herb garden.”

“He must be freezing after a dip in the lake,” Atri remarked dryly. It was almost winter, and the days were short and cold. The sun had set two hours ago, and it was already pitch black outside.

They approached the herb garden from the hedgerows, which was a more circuitous path, but one that would let them arrive unseen.

“Master Lepon is on his way,” one of the palace guards reported as Atri and Covin approached.

“And our guest?” Covin ventured.

The guard made a derisive face and cocked his head at a row of bushes near a fountain in the corner of the garden.

“Not much cover,” Atri remarked, “we won’t be able to get close.”

“We have no choice but to apprehend them once they make contact,” Covin said.

Atri nodded and prayed that they were wrong about Lepon. The garden was empty at this hour, and Covin’s men were hidden out of sight. Atri and Covin decided to retreat to the hedgerows and watch.

“I’d very much like to listen to their conversation,” Atri said through gritted teeth.

“It can’t be helped, My Lord,” Covin said, “we’ve prepared for the worst. Now let us hope for the best.”

Atri’s heart began racing as Lepon came into view. He ambled down the path through the palace gardens with his hands folded behind his back as he normally did. Nothing about his gait suggested he was under duress. He paused every now and then to admire a statue or simply to stare out into the lake.

He made his way into the herb garden just as the clocks in the palace rang, announcing that it was eight a clock. Atri smiled grimly. Lepon Wilvist was nothing if not punctual. We watched as the Markvist Chancellor looked around the garden briefly, and satisfied that it was empty, walked straight towards the fountain.

“Let’s move,” Atri whispered.

He and Covin emerged from the hedgerows which was the signal for the guards in hiding to spring out from their hiding places around the garden, cutting off all escape routes.

“Lord Atri, what’s the meaning of this?” Lepon asked calmly as Atri approached.

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” Atri said, as he nodded to Covin.

Lepon’s jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly as Covin’s men raised their rifles at the bushes.

“You in the bushes, come out with your hands up,” Covin called out loudly.

“Men, affix bayonets,” Covin ordered when there was no response.

The bayonets slid home on their muskets with a menacing click, and as the guards approached the bushes, a man clad completely in black sprang up with his hands in the air. His face was obscured by a black hood and mask.

“I yield!” he cried.

“Take your mask off,” Covin ordered.

The man did as he was told, and Atri studied his face. The man’s face was blue from the cold, and he stared back defiantly. “You work at the Renfian Embassy,” he remarked at length, "as an aide to the ambassador himself, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s right,” the man said, “doing anything to me comes with serious diplomatic repercussions.”

“You’ve been caught engaged in espionage within our lands, the repercussions will already be serious,” Atri replied bluntly. He then turned his attention to Lepon.

“I hope you have a good explanation for all this,” he said.

“I do,” Lepon replied. He was as calm and collected as ever, which unnerved Atri.

“Covin, take them both to the cellars, do it discretely,” Atri sighed, “I’ll inform my father.”

“At once, My Lord,” Covin said.

“Explain yourself, Lepon,” Solon demanded.

They were deep in the palace cellars, and the servants working there had been dismissed. Lepon and the infiltrator had been locked in separate rooms under heavy guard.

Lepon faced the prince, looking as unflappable as ever despite the situation he was in and the armed guards who were standing between him and the prince. He was unbound in recognition of his years of service and stood facing the prince. Atri stood close to his father with his hand close to his sword, ready to intervene if the old man tried anything.

“The man in the next room, is as you may already know, an agent of the Renfian government,” Lepon began, “I imagine he arranged this meeting with me to discuss the recent events in Loz.”

“Just tell me one thing,” Solon said evenly, “are the Renfians the ones fermenting the rebellion in our lands?”

Lepon blinked. “Those seeds were sown by the heavy-handed lords of Boverlind, my Lord,” he said, “the Renfians provided some encouragement.”

“With your help,” Solon stated.

Lepon nodded, and Atri’s heart sank.

“May I explain my motivations, my lord?” Lepon ventured politely.

Solon nodded irritably.

“The Renfians wanted to destabilize Boverlind to weaken the League,” Lepon began, “so that they could reclaim Norinvia, and then perhaps capture large swaths of Nescovia.”

Atri swallowed. That battle seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“However,” Lepon continued, “I felt that such an invasion would force the members of the Nescovian League to realize that they could not survive being so fragmented and see that unification is the only way for our people to survive.”

“So you’re admitting to treason. Against the League and my House,” Solon stated flatly.

Lepon bowed his head apologetically. “I believed and still believe that it was for the greater good, My Lord.”

“The ends never justify the means!” Solon roared, “you of all people should know that!”

“They had to this time,” Lepon answered. His voice was soft, but firm, “if things continue the way they are, we will be swallowed up piecemeal. Gothria is the most populous region on the Continent after Siaro, but look at the state we are in. Held to ransom by petty lords who have been run out of their lands by their own peasants while one of the supposed leaders of the League is off in Vetory with delusions of resurrecting a fallen empire. Their plans to unify Vetory under them may well have fallen through if the Renfians had been able to attack Nescovia.”

“You have conspired with foreign agents against your own people!” Solon exclaimed, “even now. you are still speaking treason!”

Atri looked at his father in fear. He had never seen his father so upset before. His father had trusted Lepon completely, and his betrayal had cut him deep.

“What has Gothria lost to these rebellions?” Lepon asked, “the lords that have been cast out are still alive. If another, more benevolent lord was to claim these lands and leave them to the peasantry to run, or charge a modest tax, everyone would be better off, and you would have their eternal gratitude. Boverlind may be poor, but it is the breadbasket of the region and is home to over fifty-thousand peasants as of the last census, with at least ten thousand men of fighting age.”

“If you’re suggesting that I be that benevolent Lord, you are a fool,” Solon said, as he willed himself to calm down, “the League would never stand for it.”

“Then gather your allies and leave the League with them,” Lepon said, his voice gained strength, and he took a step toward the prince. Atri tensed, and his silver sword was half out of his sheath when his father placed a hand on his elbow, indicating for him to stop.

“That way you will not be bound by the ridiculous one lord one vote rule of the League that lets them hold you to ransom,” Lepon continued, “then the lords will be faced with a decision; join with you or join Renfy. If they choose the latter, then they should be crushed quickly, and their lands brought under your control.”

Solon shook his head. “You know I cannot do this. I swore holy oaths to uphold the Nescovian League and the treaty of Noretor.”

Lepon’s head dropped slightly. “Yes, I understand that, my lord, which is why I was forced to go behind your back. Everything I did was for the good of Gothria and House Markvist.”

“That doesn’t make it any less treasonous,” Solon repeated bitterly. He took another look at his former chancellor and took a deep breath, “I can’t take any more of this.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Atri had never seen his father so upset before. He glanced over at Lepon who managed a wry smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for misleading you, Lord Atri,” he said, “in time, I hope you will come to understand my actions.”

“I have to say I’m surprised with the manner you were caught,” Atri remarked, “it all seemed so… amateur.”

“That’s because it was. Security at the palace was increased and my duties kept me here,” Lepon said, “they were desperate to meet me because of what’s happened in Loz and wanted to know my opinion on a potential attack. They have massed troops on their eastern borders preparing to strike Vetory anyway.”

“What did you tell them?” Atri ventured.

“You interrupted us before I could tell them anything,” Lepon said, rubbing the back of his head ruefully, “I would have told them to hold off on their attack. The truth is we’re weaker and more divided than ever and the Haroways aren’t even present, so we could lose all our entire southern regions and most of Nescovia if they came at us with any force.”

Atri pursed his lips and nodded before leaving the room. To his surprise, he found his father standing in the corridor, looking lost.

“What will you do with him?” Atri asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Exile, probably,” Solon said at length, sounding very weary, “he will leave Markvist lands, never to return on pain of death.”

Atri went weak with relief. That was the most lenient punishment his father could mete out given the severity of Lepon’s crimes.

“It goes without saying that you should never attempt to contact him again,” Solon added gruffly.

“Of course, father,” Atri agreed.

Solon then looked to the other room, and Covin, who had been standing guard in the corridor, lifted his head.

“Do you wish to speak to the other prisoner, my lord?” he ventured.

“I don’t think I have the energy right now,” Solon said tiredly. He turned to Atri, “you are to mention nothing of Lepon’s betrayal to anyone. Not even your brothers.”

Atri nodded. Lepon’s collusion with the Renfians would have to be kept secret for the conceivable future. Perhaps forever. The logical part of his brain told him that his father’s former Chancellor should not leave the storeroom alive, but he couldn’t help but be relieved that his father was acting with his heart and not his brain.

“I’ll need to consider things on my own for a while,” Solon said and walked towards the stairs.

Atri took a deep breath and exchanged looks with Covin. “This has been a trying time, Lord Atri, perhaps you should get some rest as well” Covin suggested, looking exhausted himself.

Atri nodded, knowing he couldn’t make any sort of rational decision being as emotional and exhausted as he was and climbed the stairs into the palace kitchens. To his surprise, he found Listel leaning against a wall with his arms folded across his chest.

“Do you have a moment, little brother?”

Atri knew his brother well enough to understand that it wasn’t a request and nodded. “Please make it brief, I’m exhausted.”

Without saying another word, Listel led Atri out of the kitchens and through the long corridors of the palace until they eventually arrived in his personal quarters.

“My family is asleep, so please be quiet,” Listel said as he opened the door to his office.

Atri glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was almost midnight. It felt like they had only just apprehended Lepon a few minutes ago.

“So, what skulduggery has our father’s esteemed chancellor involved himself with now?” Listel asked as soon as he closed the door.

Atri’s eyes widened in surprise and his sleep-deprived brain struggled to conjure up a convincing lie. “What do you mean?” Atri said at length.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, little brother,” Listel said sharply as he leaned against his hardwood desk, “out with it, it’s late and I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand why you think anything has happened to Lepon,” Atri said. Listel was sharp-eyed and quick-witted, but he wanted to stall for time so he could think up a convincing lie.

“Servants saw him follow Covin into the cellars together with a man no one had seen before,” Listel said impatiently, “father then went into the cellars and emerged looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Obviously, our chancellor has been caught in an indiscretion.”

Listel studied Atri for a moment before sighing. “Those insurrections you and he keep defending. Could he by chance have precipitated them with the help of outside agents?”

Atri could only gape at his brother in shock. Listel walked over to the window and looked out into the distance. “Was it the Haroways or the Siarons? Or perhaps the Renfians.”

Listel muttered to himself for a moment before turning back to Atri. “It was Renfy, wasn’t it? They stand to gain the most from fermenting chaos in those lands.”

“You can’t possibly have deduced that from seeing Lepon being led into the cellars,” Atri protested.

Listel smirked as he undid his cufflinks. They were studded with rubies that glinted under the light as he placed them carefully into a velvet-lined wooden box.

“I’d wager that he was doing it because father is being so stubborn about breaking away from the League,” Listel remarked.

“Did Lepon tell you about all this?” Atri demanded.

Listel shook his head. “No, we’ve never been close, he and I.”

That was no secret. Lepon had often told Atri privately Listel niv Markvist, heir apparent to the Markvist throne was an enigma, and a man to be wary of. He was a coldly logical, ambitious, and intelligent man. There was little affection between him and his family and he seemed to care only for his wife and two children. Lepon had even intimated that he might cast out or murder his siblings once he came to power to cement his position and secure his children’s legacy.

“Then did you come to that frankly absurd conclusion?” Atri asked.

“You never were a convincing liar, brother,” Listel remarked, “Lepon is a cautious man. He would never have supported the insurrections so vocally unless there was a foreign actor he could blame if things went sideways.”

“What exactly has Lepon been caught doing?” Listel asked, locking his eyes onto Atri’s.

Atri’s shoulders slumped. “He was caught discussing the insurrections with a Renfian agent.”

Atri watched as Listel nodded thoughtfully. He knew that his brother would soon find out for himself anyway.

“You’ll have to take a step back from politics for a time, brother,” Listel said at length.

“Excuse me?”

“You have, unfortunately, been tainted by Lepon’s indiscretion. You have also been championing the people’s cause in the insurrections,” Listel snapped impatiently, “you will have to lie low for a time or it will reflect badly on our House.”

“No…” Listel continued as he looked out the window, “you can lie low after you lead the army that will destroy the rebellion.”

“A what?” Atri said, louder than he’d intended to.

Listel glared at him. “I thought I asked you to be quiet, brother. Be considerate of the time, please.”

Atri struggled to rein his emotions in. “What army?” he asked at length.

“A showdown is almost sure to happen in Loz,” Listel said as though he was explaining the most simple concept to a child, “the rebels know that Baron Lest will come down hard on the people after their raid on the armoury at Corlist. That can only mean that the rebels are planning for the decisive battle to take place soon. I do not know who will win, but father will not be able to stand idly by any longer if they march on Conlow.”

“I don’t understand,” Atri said, struggling to keep up with his brother’s thought process.

“If the rebels are strong enough to march on Conlow, that means they are strong enough to threaten our allies to the south,” Listel snapped impatiently, “even if the baron crushes the rebels in his lands, father’s allies will insist that we march on Boverlind and put an end to this rebellion once and for all. An attack on Conlow strikes too close to home for them.”

“I hope I don’t have to explain to you why you should be the one to lead the army,” Listel remarked as Atri fell silent to digest his brother’s words.

“I hear you know the rebellion’s leader, Gavik of Gofeldin and that you hope to meet with him,” Listel said when Atri did not reply.

Atri nodded.

“Don’t waste your time,” Listel said, “he’s probably on his way to Conlow as we speak and won’t have time to entertain you. Even if he does, we can’t afford to have you seen speaking with him.”

Listel’s words were final, and Atri knew better than to argue with him. On top of all that, he was exhausted and despondent at how things were turning out.

“If there’s nothing else, brother, may I be excused?” Atri asked.

Listel nodded and left Atri to show himself out. Despite feeling utterly spent, sleep didn’t find Atri until shortly after dawn.