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> The walls were dotted with the pots where the missiles had struck. There were wisps of flames still smoking come early morning. Some men had even tried at cleaning them. And when they approached any of the flaming holes, another missile would be launched. Naked, without fire. And it would fall on the crystal tree and break off bits of the formation. I woke up to one such noise, taking two balls of cotton out from my ears. I stood, watched a scorpion run around in my tent floor and yawned. I went for the knife and cut straight through the bug, skewering it and watching it curl into a dead hand upon the tip of my blade.

>   I was dressed in minutes. Truth was, I really hadn’t undressed. I didn’t even remember going to bed. Only that at one moment I was awake and at the other I blinked, and morning had come. I fixed my badge upon my cape and went for the river. The real work was beginning.

>   The trebuchet’s were not there after all, to really kill anyone. Though they certainly had. They were there to begin the breaking of the men and women. All war is psychological by nature. A battle to tempt your enemy into stupid mistakes. A battle to break them long before the actual fighting has even begun. The first part was the chaos of the siege, the sporadic attacks throughout the night and day. The next step would be the starvation. So that was my job. I grabbed my horse and went down stream. We’d already established posts and rope attached to anchors on both sides of the rivers. Netting was cast along the surface, tied to those tethers. The first of the fisherman was caught. A man in a small kayak with citrus fruits, scented strong, hanging in little bundles on the edges of the boat. He looked around. Crow’s were cast on both sides. I was approaching, just there with my horse. We must have been a mile from the main camp. Morning blue had faded, the sun was out bright. A heat so strong that the poor merchant’s face was beginning to fluctuate in the heat. I idled and watched the Crow’s work. They drew in the net and by doing so, drew the boat closer to the edges of the rivers. The man tried to smack away at the soldiers with his oar. It hit a Crow on the front of his helmet, his head snapped back and he came around, wielding his sword in his hands.

>   “Relax.” I said. “We’re the ones invading his life. Not the other way around.”

>   “But Vincent said-”

>   “I’m in command here. At least for now.” I said.

>   The soldiers stared. I got off my horse, rubbed my eyes and went to the merchant.

>   “What are you selling, old man?” I asked.

>   “Who are you?”

>   “I’m your best friend, that’s who I am.” I said. “You are in a warzone, did you know that.”

>   “The hells was I supposed to know that?”

>   “You weren’t. But that’s the way it is.” I said. “What were you selling?”

>   “What I always sell. Oranges.” He said.

>   I narrowed my eyes on his strung fruits, then back to his wrinkled face. He had rags tied close to the crown of his head. It made him look bulbous.

>   “What?” He asked.

>   “Just fruit?”

>   “Herbs. Some.”

>   “Alright.” I said. “You’re not going to sell them that. You’re not even going to get through. You’re going to drop everything you have here and go back around, to where you came from.”

>   “Or else what?” He asked.

>   “Or else my friend stabs you in the throat. That’s what.”

>   “What gives you the right?”

>   “Xanthus does.”

>   “No. No. No.” He said. “What Xanthus isn’t here. What’s giving you the right?”

> I drew my knives and bent over and placed one of the blades there, on my knee.

>   “This gives me the right.” I said. “The ease of which I could kill you gives me the right. This army gives me the fucking right to do anything I want with you.”

>   He looked past me. To smoking campfires behind me, the men armoring themselves and preparing their war machines for the days struggle.

>   “Tell you what.” I said. “I’m willing to buy your merchandise. I won’t even steal it.” I said. “But this is what you’re going to do for me. You’re going back down stream, and you’re going to tell everyone on that fucking river that there is no Nightwater. It is gone. There is nothing here. You tell them that.”

> He frowned. He spat into the water, the phlegm rose to the top and dissipated with the movement of the water.

>   “You ain’t going to get away with this.” He said. “The Kavilians will fight. I know them.”

>   “Where are you from, old man?”

>   “Who cares. You don’t. That’s for sure.” He said. “I know these people. It ain’t going to turn out how you think it will. Your little plan, I don’t know when or how. But it’s going to go wrong.”

>   “You keep talking and I’m going to reconsider my offer. Old man.” I said.

>   His eye twitched. He gripped his oar firm with both hands and placed it flat and leveled on his little boat. He took a deep breath, so did I. The scent of fresh water filled my lungs. Behind us the columns of smoke had started their steady stream into the blue sky. Lines of black, of smog, of death. Like a plague in the air. The old man nodded and started undoing the knots of his wares. I nodded to one of the soldiers, he ran to help.

>   “I’ve got this.” The merchant snapped.

>   I sighed and watched and waited.

>

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>

> The whole day was like this.

>   He was just the beginning of a long line of fleet. Boats big and small, our camp growing with each new seizure.

>   I hung by the river on a sleek stone, keeping catalog of every boat. Writing down their names in this very book.

>   Oh what strange names I saw come up. Names like Lucius. Names like Kavaria Stoneworks.

> Strange names indeed, painted on the hulls of the ships. Names too tiring to even look at. The history of an entire castles economy told throughout the day. The boxes accumulated around the river, they stacked amongst each other. Bags of food, or weapons (that I of course inspected), or animals too. I sat down on top of one such box, my legs dangling and my arms tired to even hold the canteen of water. I’d been organizing everything, stacking them into quadrants for the Flock to pick at as needed. Food went first as it spoiled fastest. I saw the Silverfang’s come around to steal a few arrows.

> A Crow came up to me, holding a box against his chest. He wobbled as he stomped through the desert.

>   “What’re we going to do with all this junk?” He asked.

>   “Use it up.” I said.

>   “There’s perfume and stuff. We don’t need that.”

>   “Yeah, you do.” I plopped back to the ground. “It doesn’t matter what we do with this stuff. As long as they don’t have any.”

>   “If you say so.”

>   He walked away, box in hand, stacking it a top another four. I looked at the river, at the width of it, of the net buoyant against its surface. The river went around, up and down, past the dune and surrounded the castle. A man went out with a long line, trying to catch a rug that’d fallen off from the seize. That was when I came up with the idea.

>   Immediately I rushed to Vincent. It was late lunch, a little past midday. Grills lit up with hot coals, long half-cylinders where men stuck skewers of lizard or chicken on top of smoking hot stones. Vincent was bent over one such grill, turning his rabbit skewer while entertaining a captain to his rear.

>   “Sorry for the interruption.” I said. The captain looked at me - Mikael from the third - then nodded his head and left.

>   “Why’s he pissed?” I asked.

>   “You found some diamonds earlier, didn’t you? Jades? Rubies?”

>   “We did.”

>   “He wants a better share, says it was his men watching the rivers as much as the fourteenth.”

>   “Every time. The minute money is involved…”

>   “No faster way to destroy a man.” Vincent said. “What is it that you wanted to say to me?”

>   “It’s about the siege.” I said. “I’d like you to entertain an idea.”

>   “Sure.” He said.

>   I grabbed his skewer and bit into the top most chunk of meat. Spicy. I coughed and started up the dune. Vincent followed loosely. We made it to the top of the dune and looked at the city again, this time in the full-bright of midday. A city half in ruin, men scraping corpses off the sides of the crystal tree or walls. Chunks floating still on the top of the giant lake.

>   “There’s only two doors.” I said. “Front and back, that’s how they use to get to the mainland.”

>   “Biggest problem too.” Vincent said. “Hard to even close without getting gunned down.”

>   “Well. They need to have docks, of some sort, right? To entertain all the ships that keep coming in.” I said.

>   “Sure.”

>   “But they don’t. Do that? There’s just smooth wall all around.” I said. “But they wouldn’t open the doors every time a man comes around to sell his oranges.”

>   “No. They wouldn’t.”

>   “They’ve got grates. Like a sewer. Look.” I lifted binoculars from my waist and handed them to him.

>   He narrowed his eyes, took off his look and put them back on the castle.

>   “They’re using those small holes, opening them often, to deliver packages in and out. The boats just stay anchored around the walls.” I said. “I’m going down there and I’m going to open one of them up.   That’ll get us inside.”

>   “Is that the ambition?” He asked.

>   “It’s the plan. Blackfyre, it can burn through metal. We’ve already confiscated a stash from one of the boats.” I said. “I can’t have many. I’ll take Sylas, Obrick, the Silverfangs. Kal’s too big.”

>   “You’re taking four men with you. That’s suicide.” He said.

>   “Anything more would be unnecessary. We’re trying to do this in secret, you know. Can’t have people spoiling it.” I said. “I want you to mount an attack when those doors open up.”

>   “Virgil…Virgil…” He said. “We can just have them starve.”

>   “ As far as I’m concerned. We’ve got three options. We fight in open war, and most of everyone dies. We starve them, and most of them dies. Or you let me infiltrate and we can just conquer the city over night. Minimize the suffering.”

>   “Let’s assume I agree to this. Big if.” Vincent sighed. “How are you going to breath underwater? Do you even know how deep those grates are? Where they lead into? We don’t know a thing about the stronghold.”

>   “I’m good at finding my way around a castle.” I said. “As for the breathing…I’ve got an idea for that too. Something I want to work with the blacksmith.”

>   Vincent narrowed his eyes.

>   “I can give you a week.” He said.

>   I smiled.

>   “I won’t even need that long.”