“Did you say the Bleak Peaks?” Sebastian asked slowly rising from his chair, tone cold enough to freeze blood. He scowled as Sir Quintana nodded. “Have you lost your mind, Reis?”

“I haven’t. Are we not having problems now because of our soldiers’ lack of experience? If you want Robert to grow into the next Harvest Hero, he needs a fight and an attitude adjustment. Soldiers are forged on battlefields.”

“Then follow Dowager’s suggestion! Have him fight alongside you. Don’t hand him off to Victory like a prized stallion!” The king slammed a fist on his desk. “You know how big of a pain in my side James is. If Bobby doesn’t get himself killed, it would be a shitstorm of saintly proportion if Fort Victory were to get their hands on him.”

“His loyalty will not swing to another at the drop of a helm. He isn’t a child.”

“He is a child!”

“He isn’t a child, which is what I’m trying to get him to realize.” Sir Quintana’s gaze narrowed, feeling his control over his temper loose. “A difficult task between all the compromises I’ve made for people more interested in using him as breeding stock than helping him realize his potential.”

“I hope that comment wasn’t directed at me, old friend,” the king said, his voice full of unspoken warnings.

“It isn’t, which is why I know you will understand where I’m coming from. Because he is my apprentice. He has trusted me to make decisions for his future.”

“Perhaps that is a mistake. This decision is more than enough to call your judgment into question.”

Sir Quintana’s tempered flared. His jaw tensed as he suppressed the curses that wanted to leap from his tongue. This was the problem with being friends with the king. He could not have his friend without his title and that title came with unsavory things.

They couldn’t discuss Bobby, who the knight treated like a son, without discussing his value to the kingdom. Said value also gave Sebastian the notion he had the right to interfere in any and every aspect of the boy’s life, much to his friend’s annoyance.

He glanced aside to Dowager, the prince trying hard to hide how uncomfortable he was listening to two men he respected argue. For his sake, the knight reigned in his urge to snap at the king. “Robert is not in danger. I know how the campaigns work. Newbies are protected at the center of the formation. They don’t place children on the frontline. As for his possible shift in allegiance—"

“You always said that fighting together builds a bond unlike any other.”

“Robert is my apprentice. He was born in the capital. He’s walked in the palace’s gardens and played with your children. If you still question his loyalty after all of that, then I have to question what will satisfy you and also remind you that Robert is not one of your royal knights. He has his own dreams.”

The king’s glare didn’t abate. The knight took a breath and prepared himself. “And, as his mentor, I don’t care one way or the other if he decides to join Fort Victory.”

“Uncle Reis!” Dowager shouted. “That—"

“That borders on betrayal.” Sebastian made no more attempts to hide his growing anger, his hands balled into fists where they rested on his desk.

“The James family could care less about the throne. Their sole goal in this life and the next is to conquer the land beyond the Bleak Peaks and defeat the Lords of Winter. Should Robert decide to dedicate himself to that goal, and succeed, it would open up new lands, bring in more resources, and ultimately secure the kingdom from a lingering threat.”

The king shook his head. “I know you mean well but your words are disappointingly naive. The James family has a force that rivals the royal army. Every man, woman, and child has trained since near birth. Compared to the sons and daughters of farmers and artisans, our soldiers aren’t worth comparing. Worse, he can march the whole of his forces at any time while I would have to wine and dine four different patriarchs to march a fraction of the army.

“You think that man stays in that dark, freezing fort because he enjoys it? You think, if given the opportunity, he wouldn’t take the throne? He can’t. Thank the saints, the source of his strength is also his greatest weakness. The mission of conquering the Bleak Peaks unites all the warriors of Victory. If he were to turn away from that goal, he would lose the support of his people. However, that all changes if he actually wins.”

Sebastian slammed a fist on his desk. “If the duke or any of his scions defeat the Lords of Winter, they will be worshiped by their people. A second king will arise in the north, taking advantage of all that land and resources you spoke of. From there, it is only a matter of time before they turn their attention to the south.”

He sneered and waved a hand toward the prince. “Perhaps not a problem for myself, but undoubtedly one for my son, or his. So, my friend, I very much am against you giving the ‘royals of the north’ the boy with the potential to become the strongest caster in history!”

They stared at each other in tense silence that was finally broken by Dowager. The first prince cleared his throat as he smoothed his features, injecting authority into his voice. “Father, while I understand your concerns, I trust Bobby. He’s a good man. Moreover…it is not our place to get between a master and his apprentice.”

His father sneered. “Not my place? Everything within my kingdom is under my purview. It is my place to meddle wherever I see fit.”

“Respectfully, you’re concerned about people questioning the royal knights and other honorable men. How will it look if you do the same? Sir Quintana is well respected. He is a friend of the family. Contradicting his decision for his own disciple can only be seen as distrust and if he can’t be trusted, who can? The knights’ reputations will be utterly shattered and ours will take a significant blow.”

Sebastian’s sneer flattened into a severe frown. He turned venomous eyes on the knight. “You…did you do this on purpose?”

Sir Quintana scoffed. “Like I’ve got time to play those damn games of yours. I think sending him to a place filled with expert warriors to train his skills against a never-ending tide of monsters will be good for his growth. I also think it’s too early to send him to war. Goblinoids are intelligent, sapient creatures. That’s all I’m thinking about.”

The king’s expression eased. He lowered himself into his chair, fighting the exhaustion in his eyes. “…I see.”

I suppose that’s as close to an apology as I’m getting. “Send your own boy. Samuel. You want him to mend fences with Lourianne Tome? No need to wait. Send him to the Hall. He and Bobby can sign up for the campaign together and look out for one another. It might help that boy of yours grow up some.”

Dowager guffawed. “Maybe the cold will make him grow some hair on his chest.”

“…it’s not a bad idea. However, I’m concerned about how exposed he will be. After Sebas…I’d rather not give anyone the opportunity.”

The first prince’s good humor dimmed. “I thought the interrogators confirmed it wasn’t an assassination?”

“They confirmed that Sir Iris was not a part of an assassination plot and did not suspect anything of his apprentice but that isn’t completely telling.” Sebastian huffed. “I’ll speak with Samuel. I will have him apologize to Lady Tome but I don’t require he put his life on the line to do so. Ah, enough! It’s been a long week…year, to be honest.” He rubbed his eyes. “We can talk business more later.”

Tension drained from the room as the door was shut on the more serious topics. Sir Quintana huffed, letting his anger cool to embers, not forgotten but ready to be stoked back to flames at another time. He nodded and the king allowed a strained smile to turn up his lips.

“You’ve been on the road for days, Reis. I’ve already had a room prepared for you. I’d hoped you’d join us for dinner.”

“Of course.”

“And before that, we can spar!” Dowager shouted. “I’ve improved since the last time you’ve seen me.”

“Son, he’s—"

“No, problem Seb.” Sir Quintana flashed the boy a cocky smile. “I can beat the kid black and blue while taking a nap.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that, old man!”