I knew exactly how destitute the county coffers were after two days as ruler. Timoth had run me through the ledgers once more, and Alum had been my guide in understanding the complexities of economics. Supply and demand. Taxation and regulation. The numbers were a meaningless sea of ink at first, but over time Alum taught me to be as a sailor upon the page. He recommended that I refrained from changing the rate of taxation for some time to promote stability within the realm.

'Sometimes a reduction in taxation has a more detrimental effect upon commerce than no change at all. Stability is the greatest virtue of any economy,' he told me, and I nodded. Much like my ability to portalmance had grown with the replacement of Master Kane with Master Orjeik, my ability to comprehend the more tedious affairs of Ebonreach grew with the warm, guiding hand of my betrothed.

My upcoming wedding weighed heavily on my mind. Visitors from western Trent and regional districts of the Reach began to appear in the keep. Despite Alum's agreement that he would organise the ceremony, he constantly assailed me with impertinent questions regarding my preferences. He couldn’t help but measure himself against Wilbern, and was concerned that his divergent Mountain culture would create a ceremony alien to the House of Tfaeller. It was thoughtful of him, but inconsistent with the reason that I had tasked him with it in the first place. I had sufficient problems of my own, especially once I waded into the backlog of civil disputes that had built up during Timoth's tenure.

A few days out from the wedding, we received word from central Trent that the Tokuan invaders were dismantling their longboats. The dark glance that Timoth and Alum shared upon the receipt of this news concerned me, and I immediately called them both to a private conference in my meeting room.

'What does it mean?' I asked them simply. Alum turned his head to the side in a signal of deference to my brother, my Marshal.

'The longboat is their only means of returning to the Western Island,' Timoth said in a tone that indicated that he was trying to guide me to the answer to my question, rather than stating it. It irked me.

'Speak plainly, brother.'

He bowed his head and began anew. 'The Tokuans are raiders no longer. They are now invaders.' He paused to let his words sink in, and I felt a fresh burden lodge itself upon my shoulders. I bade him continue. 'They will use the timber from their longboats to build settlements that will let them control commerce on the Haelling. They will fortify them to protect them from attack, such that they will only be removed by a long and costly siege. Then they will resume raiding, disrupting trade and supply lines in order to make the logistics of a siege impossible. The precariousness of Trent's succession will make the Tokuan tumour extremely difficult to excise.'

'More ships will no doubt come to reinforce the vanguard,' Alum added. 'Which means they will pass Ebonreach. We need to be prepared for another attack.'

We discussed all possibilities open to us. Alum suggested - as only an outsider could - that we block the mouth of the Haelling with immovable boulders to prevent any reinforcements from arriving. Timoth and I both jumped down his throat at the long-term implications, for such a thing was unthinkable to someone raised in the Reach, yet as ruler it was my duty to consider all options. In response to our outrage Alum made a new suggestion: that we could divert the course of the Haelling so that it ran further south, through the lands ruled by Mattrath. Timoth was equally opposed to this course of action, for he would not sacrifice Ebonreach's control of the river's wealth in times of peace.

'We would be giving a gift to Mattrath at our own expense,' he insisted.

'There must be another way,' I said, and Alum saw that he would need time to convince us of the merit of his plan and relented.

By the eve of my wedding, I had all but eliminated the backlog of adjudication and was finally coming to understand the ledgers without assistance. I was even considering travelling to Trackford later in the week to familiarise myself with affairs there.

I entertained many of Haelling Cove's landed guests in the dining hall, hoping to assuage their doubts regarding my rulership in order to increase their willingness to provide the tithe that the crown was due. I think that, for the most part, I managed to avoid uttering any significant faux pas'. Afterwards, as I strode through the castle corridors in the darkness of night, my head swaying slightly from the effects of too much bloodberry wine, I heard shouting from further down the hallway.

The guards assigned to my chamber were within sight, and did not move from my bedroom door: doing so would have been to desert their post. I recognised one of the voices shouting as being Alum’s, so I commanded them to leave their ceremonial polearms behind and draw their swords.

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'Come!' I shouted, leading the way. Alum was in danger, and I drew Timoth's knife that I kept in the hidden sheath on my ankle.

The noise was indeed emanating from Alum's room, but the door was locked. 'Kick it down,' I commanded the soldiers, but the door's metal frame and thick oak core was too strong. 'Find the keymaster,' I said, not even certain if such a position existed within the keep. Surely someone trustworthy had spare keys to every room. The shouting grew louder within the room, and something smashed within. 'Now!'

One of my guards disappeared to carry out my orders, and more people arrived in response to the commotion. 'What's going on?' they asked, but I had no answer for them. I felt impotent. Wasn't my new status as ruler supposed to grant me power?

Kettle-helmed soldiers began to arrive, yet none of them had a key nor were able to force the door. The noise within ceased, and I began to fear that something had happened to Alum. Assassins seemed the likeliest possibility, for why else would his door have been locked from the inside? Yet if Alum had bested them, surely he would have unlocked the door by now…

Much too late, a soldier appeared brandishing a hefty iron key. He pushed the door open to reveal a tall man in a black cloak standing by the open window, brndishing a dagger in both hands, each dripping with blood. Alum was nowhere to be seen. I feared that he had fallen to the ground outside his bedroom window, yet it was not the most likely possibility, nor did it explain why the assassin had not made good his escape. I hoped that my betrothed had managed to clamber into his portal before the assassin could complete his mission, though the blood on his daggers concerned me.

'Capture that man!' I commanded my soldiers, who flooded into the bedroom. 'I want him alive!'

I knew the risks I exposed my soldiers to, but I had a strong suspicion that the assassin was in Milos' employ. For who else would seek to kill Alum? I was by no means certain, and I knew that Alum would refuse to believe such a theory, but in any case I needed to know who meant my fiancé harm.

My soldiers subdued the assassin by crowding him with their shields and pummelling him with the blunt hilts of their swords. He had translucent tawny eyes and shaggy black hair, and I shivered to see that a Vizonian amulet dangled from his neck. I bade my men lock him in the dungeon, and waited in Alum's room for him to reappear from the portal.

The spectators slowly dispersed, leaving me alone in a room decorated almost solely by the blood of my betrothed. Its smell grew as I waited, and when I heard the monastery bell strike ten times, my concern for Alum's life grew. Had he bled out in his own portal? If so, there wouldn't even be a body to bury.

I had the last people who still waited in the corridor summon a healer, and she arrived bearing a tray of potions strapped to her shoulders like a servant girl at a market. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with flax hair barely contained in a bonnet. Balanced precariously atop the tray were two dozen glass vials containing liquids of varying colour and viscosity. She set some cloth bandages on a table in Alum's bedroom. My face must have borne my concern for she spoke in a rustic Reach accent.

'Don't fret, my lady. If he can be saved, I'll save him.'

I was grateful for her confidence, but all the potions in the world wouldn't save Alum if he never reappeared. Thankfully, at that moment, the shimmering black stain of a portal bisected the room, and Alum crawled forth from it.

He was on all fours, his arms covered in so much blood that I couldn’t see where he was wounded. The healer and I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him fully into the room, letting the portal close behind him. His face was only mildly bloody, and I determined that he had suffered no wounds to the head. Nonetheless, his tunic had been slashed by the assassin's knives in several locations, and he seemed to be barely conscious.

'Help me get it off him,' the healer asked, and in the tragedy of the moment I didn’t notice her failure to address me properly.

I unsheathed my dagger and cut Alum's tunic at the sides so that we could slide it off without having to reposition his arms. Once he was shirtless the healer immediately began to dab a purple lotion upon her hands before rubbing them over Alum's wounds. Once the medicine was thoroughly applied, the healer sought my assistance in bandaging his wounds.

'Do you want me to summon nurses to aid you?' I offered, but she shook her head in a manner that suggested that she considered my words to have been pure folly.

'You'll do,' she said, and then instructed me I how to apply pressure to the bandages as she bound them in place.

'Will he live?' I finally asked, and she laughed unhelpfully. I suddenly remembered my station and went to admonish her, but she spoke first.

'Yes, he'll live. He's a fighter, this one. The cuts are mostly on his arms. Those on his chest are skin-deep. They’ll heal if he’s kept free from infection,' she said, and her good news immediately wiped any thought of chastisement from my mind.

Timoth appeared at the door a few moments later, apologising that word had only just reached him of the incident. I told him that it was already dealt with, though as my Marshal he should investigate how the assassin found his way into Alum's quarters in the first place.

'Of course, sister,' he said, and then he lifted Alum's body into the bed. The sheets were instantly soaked in blood. The healer uncorked a vial of clear fluid, and put it to Alum’s lips.

'Will that heal him? I asked her.

'Of course, my lady,' she replied with a smirk. 'Water heals all.'

I had to restrain my frustration with the healer, and stormed out of the room. How was I supposed to get married while my husband-to-be lay bedridden, lucky to be alive?