The Lower Quarter was a mess, but Karch wasn’t concerned about that. He had to hand it to Pattis and Larsen—they had burned the will out of the Harvest Guild in the Flats and the Lower Triangle the night before. Clearing out the Harvest Guild members was turning out to be surprisingly easy, as Pattis had noted.

It was everywhere else that was a problem. Karch had done everything he could, but he was still nervous. He had just returned from Traders Bridge. It was heavily defended by the Guild’s best troops, but he was dismayed that no one had taken his command to prepare to destroy the bridge seriously. It was stone, and destroying it would be difficult, so he had hoped that they would have procured some Craft Guild masons to dismantle some key stones, but nothing was done.

The North Fork was well defended with Knight Guild ships, so that was good, but Saxe had practically laughed at Karch when he recommended reinforcing the defenses of the Knight Watch. The Knight Watch was a fortified tower at the end of the Great Wall to the east, overlooking the Outer and Inner Fields and Harvest House. Karch’s fear was the Harvest Guild troops would overpower the White Guard and rush along the top of the Great Wall and then descend into the Lower Quarter from the north, with deadly archers stationed on the Wall.

“It is insulting, Karch. Insulting!” Saxe had declared from his stone throne. He and Polo were the only guildmaster who sat on thrones and not behind desks, and Karch found it crass.

“I am merely making a recommendation, Guildmaster. The Harvest Guild has the advantage of numbers. Their assault could continue until the Knight Watch runs out of arrows.”

“That is madness, Karch. Why would the guild be willing to lose so many to take the Wall?” Saxe waved a jewel encrusted goblet, spilling some wine. Because they have lost so many in the Lower Quarter already, Karch thought. Saxe was on the verge of drunkenness, a weakness of his that Karch found intolerable, as it made Saxe even more unpredictable.

“Be that as it may, sir. If they choose to assault the Watch, would it not be wise to be prepared?”

“Are you telling me I’m not prepared?!” Saxe yelled out, tossing his goblet to the ground, which landed with a thud as it hit a thick carpet, adding yet another wine stain.

As Saxe’s face turned red, Karch held up his hands. “Not at all, Guildmaster. I am merely outlining that Polo may be desperate and irrational.”

“Polo is cowering like a rabbit in Harvest House, Karch.” Saxe shook his head, his demeanor changing to one lecturing a child. “I understand your fear, but it is unfounded. My knights are capable of withstanding an assault from a bunch of farmers.”

And with that, the meeting was over and Karch’s concerns over the Knight Watch increased. The arrogance of Saxe and Larsen will be their undoing, Karch thought as he returned to Merchant Tower. Traders Bridge and the Knight Watch were well-defended, but they were not defended well enough to withstand a desperate enemy, and Karch was positive that Polo was both desperate and angry.

As he walked through the giant gates of the tower, Keres, the annoying nephew of Orion, rushed over. He was a runt of a boy, with an ever-present sneer of privilege and arrogance. Karch could not believe that Larsen named the boy Apprentice Guildmaster, even if the title meant nothing and it helped with Orion.

“Karch! I’ve been looking for you all day.” The boy stopped in front of Karch, his fists resting on his hips like he was going to throw a temper tantrum.

“I was busy,” Karch said coolly. He hated the boy more than Ralan, if that were possible.

“Well, you’re not busy now, and I need you to pick up my new garments from the warehouse.”

Karch stared at Keres. “I’m not your servant. Pick them up yourself or find someone else to do it.” He took a step to the side to continue past Keres when the boy moved in front of him.

“How would you like to end up in the dungeon, Karch?” Keres nodded his head in the direction of the guild dungeon. “You may have forgotten, I’m the Apprentice Guildmaster. You report to me. So are you going to get my garments or am I going to call the guard to haul you away for impertinence?”

“I report to Guildmaster Larsen, Keres. I recommend you talk less and listen more if you know what is good for you.” Karch used every bit of his self-control not to berate the boy like the child he was. He once again stepped to the right and started toward the steps up the tower.

Keres grabbed Karch’s arm to stop him. Spinning around, Karch grabbed Keres’ arm with his left hand, twisting it. With his right hand, he slapped Keres hard across the face, staggering him and leaving a red mark. “You do not touch me, boy.” Karch let go of Keres’ arm and shoved him away. “Listen. I will only say this once: You are here as a favor to your uncle. That favor will only go so far. So play your games of power with others, but I don’t have time for them.”

As Karch walked away, Keres shouted toward him, “You’ll be sorry for that, Karch! No one touches me. No one!” Karch resisted the urge to go back and slap the boy again.

A messenger had just left, delivering to Karch an update from the Lower Triangle. The Green Belt was ash, and the Harvest Guild members were as demoralized there as they were in the Flats. The clearing of the Harvest Guild continued to go well. An earlier messenger had provided even better news, but it was the nature of that good news that worried Karch.

That message noted that there was no movement from the Harvest Guild near Traders Bridge or the Knight Watch. In fact, as far as anyone could tell, the Harvest Guild was doing nothing as their guild members were being swept into the Wretched Quarter. Karch knew that Polo was planning something, and the fact that Karch still had no idea what that was worried him.

A third messenger arrived. “Larsen demands your presence,” was the entirety of the message.

I wonder if Larsen has received word on movement of the Harvest Guild outside the Wall. It was the only option that Karch would not have any view into. If it was happening, then Polo would have chosen the riskiest option with the highest likelihood of failure. As he made his way to Larsen’s office, Karch considered if Polo was that foolish.

He entered to a view he was long accustomed to: Larsen at his desk looking angry.

As Karch approached slowly, he could tell that Larsen’s temper had spilled over into irrational, as Larsen stood up the moment he saw Karch enter. He stood there with his hands on his desk, confrontational and ready to lash out. I wonder if the Harvest Guild has made their move.

From behind his desk, Larsen growled, “Are you trying to ruin all my plans, or are you just that incompetent, Karch?”

He is going to blame me for the Harvest Guild marching outside the Wall, Karch thought as he stopped in front of Larsen. “Sir, I have been your faithful assistant for years. I have made my mistakes, but I believe I have been a valuable asset—”

“Your plan with Ralan—a disaster. Your mission to the Outlanders—a failure that cost me some of my best men. And now—this!” Larsen waved his hand in some vague direction. Karch still didn’t know what specific item Larsen was talking about, and he was smart enough not to remind Larsen that the Outlander mission was Larsen’s idea. So he stood quietly. Not seeing a response, Larsen took a breath and in a calm voice added, “Karch, who is my most important ally?”

Karch hated when Larsen asked questions, as the correct answer depended on Larsen’s mood. The question he had just asked could have been answered as Saxe, for his help in managing the clearing of the Harvest Guild, or it could have been Orion, for just staying out of the way when he could have caused great difficulty. Or it could have been some random person who caught Larsen’s eye by helping in some specific way, such as Pattis.

“Saxe, sir. Clearing the Harvest Guild would have been impossible without his cooperation,” Karch finally replied, knowing he had to pick someone.

“Saxe,” Larsen practically spat. “He isn’t an ally. He is an utterly predictable puppet. All he cares about is his own comfort.” Larsen shook his head. “No wonder you made such an idiotic mistake, threatening our most important ally.

The pieces fell into place, and Karch suddenly realized why Larsen was angry. “Orion.”

“Yes. Orion!” Larsen roared, his temper boiling over. “The same guildmaster you offended by slapping his nephew.” Larsen’s voice rose even higher. “His vote and his support is critical. He doesn’t care about anything but the security and success of Ness and his simple-minded sense-of-duty. And Karch, do you know a key element of that duty? His family!” Larsen screamed the last word while slamming his fist onto his desk.

“I understand, sir.”

“Do you, Karch? Do you? If you understood that Orion sees me as the future of Ness’ security and that his nephew was his way of connecting his own family to my success, then why would you strike him?” Larsen sat down while he shook his head. “Idiocy.”

Karch couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. To keep Orion happy, Larsen was going to let Orion’s nephew run roughshod over the guild? Based on the arrogance of the brat, Karch could see Larsen losing the support of his own guild in his effort in trying to appease Orion.

“I understand the boy’s importance, but is it wise to let him terrorize the guild members?” Karch knew better than to contradict Larsen when he was in one of his rages, but Karch’s own patience was running thin—from Larsen’s disaster of a plan to the reaction to Karch’s own concerns from Saxe, Pattis, and others and now to Keres’ impertinence.

“Is that what you call it when someone requests you run an errand for them, being terrorized?” The sarcasm dripped from Larsen’s voice. “Why, you must think I terrorize you all the time.” Karch knew better than to respond. “I don’t know what has happened to you Karch. You were my most loyal and accomplished deputy. But you continue to make mistake after mistake. If I weren’t so patient and understanding I would probably have thrown you in the dungeon already for planning against me.”

“Sir—”

“Shut up, Karch. I don’t need to hear any more excuses. I have decided to give you one more chance. You will go directly to Keres and apologize. Whatever punishment or demand he makes, you are to fulfill. You will make it clear that you are sincere in your sentiment. If I don’t hear from Keres that he is pleased with your behavior, I will toss you in the dungeon and leave you there forever.”

“I must object—”

“One more word, and you go in the dungeon.” Larsen held up a single finger. Karch knew he was serious and simply bowed his head. “You are dismissed.”

Karch turned and marched the length of the room, his own anger barely contained. The arrogant, self-deluded Larsen was blaming Karch for Larsen’s own mistakes. And now, with the worst mistake of all happening at that very moment, Larsen was demanding that Karch apologize to a brat who was yet another mistake, one that was undoubtedly alienating the guild leadership.

The door to Larsen’s office closed behind him, and Karch walked directly to his own office. He had to think over what he was going to do. His path, troubled as it was over the past few weeks, was now even less clear. Did he want to commit his loyalty to guildmaster full of such delusion and leading Ness to civil war? And if he did, could he manage things in a way that he would be the one to swoop in and save things as Larsen was hanging from a rope in Founders Park?

Whatever path he took, there was only one that avoided him apologizing to Keres—abandoning the guild. Karch was prepared to do that, but was that the right path? Not entirely sure of anything, Karch entered his quarters and locked the door behind him.