Prologue

The Fourth Day of the Second Moon, 873 AD.

Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.

Angels, but he was tired.

Romanos ran a hand through his hair as yet another council meeting was called to its end. He wasn't built for this sort of work. The last month had seen him age about a decade, if the gaunt face and hollow eyes that looked at him whenever he passed a mirror were anything to go by. Oh, for certain, he was fine with administrative duties and seeing to the running of the Order of the Violet. He'd been doing it for more than a decade, after all. But this was different; he'd spent all of that time preparing to see his young friend on the throne, and now all of that work, all of that time spent hoping...

He closed his eyes and let out a deep, slow sigh. It didn't matter now. Lykourgos was alive. Asleep, but alive. Nasos had been a most thankful presence; his skills in the medicinal arts were likely all that had kept his prince alive in those dark, terror filled days. For almost two weeks after his friend had taken to sleep he, somewhat ironically, hadn't been able to sleep almost at all. He barely could stand sleeping now. He just... every day that had passed for that fortnight he had dreaded the news he was certain would come to him soon, news that his beloved friend and in some ways protégé was dead, that he would be interred into the Westcoast Church and rest with his father and sister for an eternity, leaving only his brother behind to bear his family's name.

But that news never came.

Instead Nasos had told him that the worst was over; Lykourgos, though it was unlikely he would wake for quite some time, was unlikely to perish from his wounds. He could have cried upon hearing those words, but he had forced them down. He was a knight of the realm. He could not be seen as being weak, no matter the circumstances.

He had smiled and nodded, thanked the healer, then sent them on their way. If Nasos noticed that the smile never reached his eyes, he hadn't mentioned it.

The other members that sat the council at the moment were an eclectic, if loyal, bunch. He sat it, of course, and besides him were Master Elikoidi and Mistress Crowe. The three of them formed the core of their prince's supporters whilst he was... indisposed. There were two others of note that ruled alongside the three of them in Lykourgos' name. The first was Lykourgos' beloved brother; Prince Rhema had, to most people's surprise, taken an active role in running the kingdom. He dispensed justice and did his best to keep the unrest from the lowborns from boiling over, a fair few of which believed that Rhema had ordered his brother killed to take the throne. Now, Romanos didn't exactly trust the youngest of the two princes, far from it, but the idea that he would sabotage his own war effort only to then mortally wound his brother, and then not have him finished off in some way, was beyond absurd. No. Mad he might have been, but not that insane.

Although it appeared that recently many in court had begun to doubt even his madness. Rhema seemed to be holding himself together well in the days since his brother had been discovered bleeding upon the battlements, driving himself to keep his mind free from the taint of impulse and intrusion, but where most saw it as a permanent shift, Romanos held no such delusions. He would watch the youngest brother, and he would wait. It was only a matter of time until the madness unveiled itself once more, and he would have to make sure that the wild prince didn't do something stupid when it did. He'd made a career out of keeping one prince from trouble, it shouldn't be too hard for him to do the same for a second. Master Yzaldae was the last of their council, but Romanos didn't know him well enough to form a real opinion of him in his tired state.

Elikoidi was... well, he was Elikoidi. He was lying to them all, in a way. He still tried to pretend what had happened hadn't shaken him, and some of the other councillors may have even brought it. Romanos didn't, couldn't; he'd known the scarred one almost as long as he'd known Lykourgos. No, Elikoidi was doing just as badly as Romanos himself was. Crowe was too busy looking after Rhema and doing her job to worry about their fallen monarch, and the last council member had only just arrived in the country, so it wasn't as though he'd had the time to form an attachment to the boy who should have been crowned king by now. Romanos was sceptical of the man, and he knew Elikoidi was as well, but Crowe and Rhema had convinced them that, since none of them really administrated over everyday civilian affairs, at least one council member should be brought on to at least make a start of reconstruction. Romanos didn't particularly like it, in his mind they should just let the lowborns get on with bringing in the harvest instead of sticking their noses into every farmhouse and village granary, but then he had to concede that he didn't really know anything about these matters.

"Still here?"

The voice broke him from his thoughts, but then he wasn't particularly worried about that.

"Elikoidi. I am, yes. I was... well, I suppose I was just thinking."

The younger man nodded and moved to sit back down at the table. Romanos quirked an eyebrow and gave a weak smile.

"Funny. I seem to recall you always used to sit on the table rather than at it. To annoy me, mostly."

Elikoidi sighed and returned the weak smile.

"You don't need me annoying you at the moment. Besides, I could just as well say you always used to tell his Grace to get a better amount of sleep."

Romanos let out a huff that might have charitably been termed a laugh, before the two of them continued with their subdued conversation. No matter how much he willed it otherwise, Romanos found himself expending a great deal of effort to simply look up at his sometimes-friend-sometimes-rival rather than the table. After a little while Elikoidi questioned his odd behaviour.

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"I know I'm quite the bright sight and you're tired, but can't you look at me?"

Romanos did his best to drag himself up, forcing his head to turn so that he might look at the younger man.

"It's difficult. I... I have not been sleeping well, no. Although you shouldn't need spies to tell you that."

The knight gestured weakly at his own haggard face, a wry smile about his lips. Elikoidi's own lips curled, the scarred skin being pulled taught as a similarly wry look came across his face as well.

"You think I'm sleeping well?"

"You look fine enough to me."

Elikoidi huffed before pulling out a small ball of what looked to be wool and a small container with a stopper in the top from... somewhere, Romanos didn't really see where he'd got it from, before he seemed to dab the wool into the alcohol and rub it on his face. To Romanos' astonishment, it seemed to drain the colour from the patches of unblemished skin on the man's face, until he looked as sleep deprived and tired as Romanos himself.

"How did you-"

"Don't ask, please."

That gave him a moment of pause. Elikoidi never said please, and especially not to him.

"But-"

The spymaster cut him off again.

"A trick I learned from my previous line of work, let's leave it at that."

The words were hurried, almost rushed, as though he could hardly wait to get to the end of the sentence. He gave a moment of thought to the words and suppressed a wince. Yes, he could see how that might aid someone in Elikoidi's old line of work, especially one struck by the black grave as he was.

But he could also see exactly why he didn't want to talk about it.

He nodded once at the man, and made to change the subject.

"What do you make of the younger of the princes? He seems to be doing well, even if this rally is only temporary."

Elikoidi gave him a look that was probably as close to gratefulness as he had ever given him before answering the question.

"He is full of surprises, that much is certain. Were I not quite so tired I would sit attend court to watch the nobles shit themselves every time he so much as glances at them."

Romanos gave a light chuckle, even if the thought was a little crude.

"Now that would be a sight. I am surprised that his Highness chose to let them live, if in captivity. He hates the nobles."

"But not as much as his brother does. No, I have it on good authority he awaits his brother's awakening so that he might pass the judgement he was denied after the rebellion."

Romanos suppressed an involuntary shudder at the thought, but judging by the glint in Elikoidi's eyes something must have given him away.

"Your pardon, Master Elikoidi. The thought of the sentence to be passed onto the old nobles... how many do you suspect will die? A half? A quarter?"

Elikoidi made a so-so motion with his hands.

"A half, I'd wager. Enough to sate both his need for vengeance and justice but not so many as to alienate the other monarchs in the Heptarchy. He's far from stupid, after all."

Romanos smiled, a little more genuine this time, and nodded. Then he sighed.

"Assuming he wakes up."

Elikoidi's own tired face fell somewhat, and the man nodded at him.

"Aye," he said, "assuming he wakes up."

There was a little more silence in the room after that, but not much. There was too much Romanos wanted to ask, too many hours in the day that he desperately wished to spend in conversation, distracting himself from the thought of his young friend and suzerain covered in blood and half-dead on the walls of Anaria on the day when he was supposed to be coronated-

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and willed himself to stop shaking. He closed his eyes and held up one finger to Elikoidi, silently asking for a moment to recompose himself.

The shaking stopped, and he opened his eyes. Elikoidi looked at him, then nodded once, bidding him to continue.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what's been keeping you so busy recently?"

"I've been expanding my network abroad. If Lieutenant Isen slipped across our borders... I'll find him. I'll find him if it kills me."

Romanos raised his eyebrow once more.

"You're certain it was him? He served loyally for years after the rebellion."

The man nodded once, almost defiantly.

"He's the only person that makes sense. His Grace was meeting with him at the location he was later discovered at, Isen was seen leaving the city in a hurry around the same time, and then he seems to have vanished from the eyes of my rats."

"And if your rats can't find someone..."

"Then they aren't in Teleytaios anymore. Hence why I'm building my network up in some of our neighbours."

Romanos smiled teasingly at him.

"Hard work?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe nor understand."

The teasing smile become wry, and the knight gave the spymaster an incredulous look.

"Okay, that's fair. Out of everyone you're going to understand the work that goes into running a large organisation, but I stand by my point. I can't delegate these things out to others, I need to manually find new rats in these lands, and build their nests, without either the local authorities or the highborns discovering them. It takes time and a level of diligence that... well, trying to set one up in one kingdom is hard enough, but trying to set up two at once..."

"Two at once? Owkrestos and Nordicos, I presume?"

The scarred man nodded.

"Aye. They're most likely for places that turncoat would run. I've also reached out to an old contact in the Wrecker's Republic. If all goes well, I might have the beginnings of a network on Anatolikoi as well, though given the sea between us and them, not to mention the constant battle between the dozen nations on the island, it will be almost certainly less efficient. Still, if he's gone there then I'll find him. I'll bloody find him, and then he'll wish he'd choked himself whilst he had the chance."

Romanos smiled grimly. He didn't condone torture, not on anyone, regardless of their crime. But for what Isen had done...

"Aye, I'm certain he will. Tell me if you require my assistance with anything, even things unrelated to recent events. We need to stick together until his Grace wakes up."

The words left his mouth before he'd even registered that he was speaking, and in a way he was glad. Such thoughts had always been surprised in the past, his pride stopping the words from being said, but now they were out.

Elikoidi looked somewhat surprised, before nodding slowly.

"My thanks. You as well. We... we need to stick together."

The spymaster rose from the table and made to leave, patting the knight on the shoulder as he went passed.

"Try not to stay sat here too long. Get some rest. He'll recover soon, I'm sure of it."

He nodded at the retreating figure of the man that had for so long been the flipside to his coin, his rival in their almost childish battles for their friend's attention, for influence over him.

No longer, he swore it. They needed to be united.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important. There was a feeling in the air, an almost crackling tension in the city that only seemed to rise as the days of Lykourgos' coma grew.

He shook his head and made to stand.

It was probably nothing.