The Crow's Ridge jutted out of the pale green steppes like the crooked spine of an ancient beast. Along the dusty ridge ran the Old War Road, called so as hundreds of years of warfare between the kingdoms saw their armies pass through this very windswept path. While that road had a lot of history, the new road connecting to the Old War Road that ran to Banningtown was wide and smooth. This new road was Banningtown’s way of welcoming travelers to the busiest city of the five realms. Well-used but always under quick repair, the road to the city was called the Key, and it never seemed to rest.

"I've been up there, once, on the top of the Crow’s Ridge," Edmon said. "There is a trolley that takes you up to the top, otherwise I’d never be able to make the climb with this leg. There’s a watchtower up there where you can see the horizon without obstruction, from where the road meets the sunrise, all the way to where it meets the sunset. It offers a great defensive position. In the old days when the Yghrs were the guardians of the road, they had many such watchtowers along the Crow’s Ridge to spot the encroaching enemy. I suppose in a way they still keep an eye, though now it's more for keeping unwanted noses out of their business."

Edmon watched a small caravan turn into the Key from the Old War Road.

“That’s who we were waiting for?” Kidu asked.

Edmon nodded and gripped the railing on the banister, leaning forward.

"It doesn't look like an army," Kidu noted. “Weren’t they supposed to bring one?”

As the caravan neared, Edmon saw that it bore both the Black flag of Gamesh and the White flag of Amshedpur. “There is a book that I brought with me called The Opus of Spring,” he said as he turned away from the banister and began his descent from the sentry tower. “It is said to be an ancient book of war strategy used by the Isnumurti. Mazi brought it back to me from the time he spent among them and I've been reading it when I can. I started reading it to study their movements and strategies but lately found myself learning more about how war really should be strategized.”

"This isn't the Crow's Ridge but if you want me to, I can bear you upon my back," Kidu offered as he noticed Edmon’s painful descent.

Edmon nodded and climbed on Kidu's back. “I've come to realize how woefully prepared we are against an enemy that trained for so long to be proficient in war. It's not just the Aredunians. If the Isnumurti were to draw Kienne into war, our disjointed forces of all the Earls would be no match.”

At the bottom, the door opened to the main gate at the Key. Edmon slipped a coin to the Banningtown guard standing outside the door, as payment to allow him to enter the tower and turn the other cheek.

There was a line of wagons, coaches, and carts waiting to be inspected before entering the city. Edmon knew the recently arrived visitors from the Smote would not want to wait in line. He whistled to a man with a rickshaw who hurried to where he stood.

“To the edge of the Key,” Edmon said.

They climbed in as the rickshaw pulled out of the city onto the road, passing the long line of traffic waiting to enter the city. The Yghr caravan stopped on the side of the road to meet them.

“Stay a bit,” he told the rickshaw man, as he climbed down and stood next to the caravan. Black and White Guards spilled out of the caravan, followed by a short man in a gold silk coat and grey wool hat. He had a thin beard that ran up his pink cheeks. "Lord Edmon," he smiled, "we hope you and Kienne are well."

"Well enough, sir," Edmon bowed. "Blessings upon you, but I was expecting Magistrates Mitul of Gamesh and Arljer of Amshedpur."

"They sent me in their stead, as I am most well versed in their needs. They would not appreciate coming near this city," the man said.

“It appears that you know me,” Edmon said. “May I have your name and title, sir?”

“The city has always offended the Magister’s senses,” the man continued, ignoring the question. “In particular, Magister Arljer gripes about its stench and its vulgar sounds. It's always seemed odd to me, given as businessmen of the Smote, we Yghrs have chosen a life that often takes us to places that offends us. We should be used to it by now.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“And does this offend you, to meet with me here?”

The man shook his head. “Let’s just say the Magisters are not accustomed to the bowels of diplomacy, where the real unsavory deals happen. Where the stench is part of the deals. Ah, but this city is quite ironic, isn't it? I’ve had humorous conversations with Mitul about how much politicking happens in the city named after the man that destroyed a dynasty with his politics."

"King Banning ended the corrupt Angwar era, and brought about the Senate," Edmon said. "He was the father of the Republic."

The man laughed. "Corrupt Angwar era, you say? A buyer’s version of history, as I see it. The sellers of this world see it differently. The Angwar dynasty held Aredun strong for over two hundred years, and all who had dealings with them profited for it. Ho, listen to me talk. I deal with coin. The books I care for are for the keeping of numbers, not the annals of history.”

"As you say, sir," Edmon said. "Aredunian history is not my strength. Alas my proficiencies lie more in the treatises of Kienne, in particular in the contracts we have with our neighbors in the Smote. I have noticed that you arrived in Banningtown with about five thousand men short from promised by the Magistrates."

"We know the contract," the man barked. "Gamesh and Amshedpur honor it. Every letter crossed and dotted we checked, yes. A unified armed force to be controlled by the Marshal of the Commission. In the absence of the Marshal, the Commission shall be led by the Vice Marshal, which is the top ranking agent of Kienne by proxy. We understand the agreement. We bloody signed it."

"Then the forces?"

"Inspector Singis is the Marshal. Since she seems to have disappeared, we now await for the top ranking agent of Kienne to serve as Vice Marshal. That would be the King, the Prince, the Steward, the Herald, in that order,” the man explained. "Do you not remember me?"

Edmon stared at the man. He then remembered the gold silk. "You were at the council in Lanfrydhall. Mr...?"

“Torombatar,” Kidu said. “You wore the same hat.”

"Ah, of course," Torombatar said. "The young monk that sat in the chair of the legendary Peer. Lord Edmon you may not remember my name but apparently the boy does. That shows me the boy has a bit more respect. I’ll remember that, my boy, and when the moment comes, yes, I’ll treat you right. No matter, at least Lord Edmon, you now remember me at your council. The same council where your Prince Andrew stripped you of your stewardship. So I don't think you can speak for your king anymore. So back to our contract…you think our agreement was to give you control of our forces. It was more to create a sovereign state for us to conduct our business. You didn't really think we'd hand our forces to you, did you?"

"In what capacity do you speak for the Magisters of the Smote?" Edmon demanded.

"I am the one who conducts all business for the Smote," Torombatar explained. “All monies come in and out with my accounting.”

Edmon felt his heart in his ears. "You are the chief slaver. You are no lowly tradesman. You are the one that controls the slave routes. Listen to me, we need the Yghr armies…they must be put in place for when the Isnumurti come..."

"If they come they will be dealt with," Torombatar said. "Just not by you. The Guards of the Smote are some of the most highly trained soldiers in the world. You have to be, to protect the kind of business we run.”

“Have the most profitable trade in the world, and you can afford the type of muscle that protects profits,” Edmon said.

Toromtobar adjusted his wool cap. “We thought it would be best if I told you this in person, in respect to your king and your good Prince. We are on good terms with your kind and generous Prince. I hear your king is ill and fading. Perhaps Andrew will be only a Prince for not too much longer."

"A Kiennese officer with the men would run through your caravan for such words against our King Gordyn," Edmon warned.

"Alas you have no men, nor any official seat," Torombatar said. "When you do, let us know. Then it will be our turn to meet you halfway on the road."

He climbed back into the caravan and directed the driver to turn north to return to the Smote.

“I’ve met your soothsayer,” Kidu called out.

Totombatar grinned back. “I’ll remember you, young man.”

Edmon and Kidu watched the trail of dust from the caravans as they lead away from the Key.

"I remember not trusting him from the council," Kidu said as they turned back toward the city. "He's not as courteous as he was then."

"It wasn't a courtesy," Edmon explained. "They sent their wolf dressed in a wool hat. We tried playing our hand, and they played theirs. It's a long game, and not quite over yet. In the end all that matters is how the history books are written, not what courtesies may or may not have been said on the side of a road."

"History remembers King Banning quite differently than how both sides tell it," Kidu said. "Banning was an economist. He was not a politician, regardless of how his life is told. Everyone sees you in the same light. They think of you as a politician that values the words you speak more than the actions you take. Are you more than the politician that people see you as?"

Edmon squinted at him. "Are you questioning my merits, Kidu?"

"I'm in no position to question anyone's merits," he replied. "What is our course now, Lord Edmon?"

"We need to reach Menquist, in Isimil," Edmon said, climbing back into the rickshaw. “First, I'm famished. Let's get to the Fatted Poult."