The marshall stood unmoving and stared at me. I could not make out whether his rage was boiling, or he was just slightly annoyed over my secrecy. I didn’t dare to use my powers in front of the knight-mage of Hanuk.

“You are not at liberty to reveal your mission to the command-in-chief of the south-eastern army of Lienor?”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself to remain calm and composed and to try to not make enemies right off the start. I could’ve just shown the marshall the Warrant of the King, but that would inevitably close off any chance of cooperation in the future.

“I understand,” I said, striving for a diplomatic and even apologetic tone. “But secrecy is of the utmost importance in what we do, and any piece of information might be very dangerous in the hands of the wrong people. Back in Caffria, when we departed along the Straight Road, His Majesty the King, along with Pitties, were still undecided about what we could tell and what we must hide.”

The moment I had finished, a wave of frustration washed over me as I realized my mistake in phrasing. I cursed myself and knew I should have been more tactful.

Not surprisingly at all, this didn’t please the marshall de-Vilgario.

“Do you understand who I am, and what I do?” he asked harshly.

None of us had any extensive experience with working with the soldiery. Back when Florencia and Jace worked for the Lodge, they interacted primarily with the nobles or the city guard, but most often with just the common populace.

During our weeks of travel, I knew that a marshall was the commander of all armed troops—soldiers, not city guards who fell under the rule of the Lord Mayor and his Captain—in an entire region of the country. With five large regions in total, there were correspondingly five marshalls, each responsible for their designated area, and all ultimately answer to the Grand Marshall of the Armies. It was no stroke of luck that this man was none other than the King’s own younger brother, Verrill Hugues Landoros.

The marshall continued.

“I can discern, simply from how you carry yourselves, that none of you have been in the military, except for you, with the wild black hair.” He pointed at Iskander. “You! What’s your name? The way you hold yourself tells me you’ve had at least some years of military experience. Who did you serve under, and where? In the northern province?”

Iskander replied without his characteristic gravelly timbre that always accompanied his words. “I served ten years as a chief-of-watch, in the Odel City Guard.”

“Ah,” said the marshall. “Your accent tells me you are from the Szell Counties, where I suspect Odel is as well. Is it not?”

“Correct,” said Iskander as politely as he could stomach.

The marshall frowned and turned back to me, not blinking as he held his unwavering eyes on me.

“Then, Mr. Espian, how odd is that this… mob of commoners that you have gathered under your command, are privy to this highly secretive information, while I, the commander whose duty is to safeguard the eastern provinces as you see laid out on this very map, cannot? Do you understand that I must know every detail, secretive or not, to fulfill properly my duty to the King?”

The weight of his words and his displeasure hung heavily in the air. I saw everyone gathered here was uncomfortable, save for the marshall himself.

Then de-Vilgario sighed and leaned back.

“But, since this is the command of Our Majesty, I shall withdraw my demand. But let me make myself very clear. I do not like being denied critical information!”

I think he has made himself very clear; I thought and felt that Goxhandar agreed with me.

“Pompous and arrogant,” said Goxhandar. “But beneath that exterior lies a soul of iron mind and determination.”

This I also understood.

But before the tense situation spiraled out of control, the Lord Mayor stepped in.

“Gentlemen, please! This bickering will lead us nowhere. In his letter, Pitties said that Mr. Espian’s mission was of a secretive nature. I should have told you this, Renzo, but after I burned the letter, I got caught up in another matter, and I simply forgot. It’s my fault. But let us not forget that we are fighting the same enemy.”

As the promise of resolution was in sight, Florencia and Jace, both standing close behind me, let out a barely audible sigh of relief. However, the knot of tension clenched tightly within my muscles, mirroring what I felt in Iskander. Neither of us thought this was resolved.

“If we are fighting the same enemy,” said the marshall, his voice as displeased and sharp as before, “these dark sorcerers as we suspect, then please, Vilip, enlighten me on how keeping secrets serves any purpose? They even admitted to being mages. How can we know they are to be trusted in the first place, and this is not some foul plot?”

“Jonas, this is becoming a mess,” said Florencia telepathically. “You must interrupt them right now, and tell them we are looking for Vranik. I think this should put things back on track.”

I turned to Florencia, pausing for a moment to consider her suggestion. It was no secret we were chasing Vranik, and I would’ve brought it up as the first thing, but I did not count on the marshall being this combative. He threw all our plans in the wind. As I turned back to face the marshall, I noticed Rosalda, Master of the Knights of Hanuk, examining us intently. I could not make out why.

“My Lords,” I said, my voice cutting through both men. “My mission is to find a man called Grasd Vranik. We have evidence to believe that he was the architect behind what happened in Veneiea and Scorro. He was in Caffria some months ago, and we believe that he escaped east, into Lottie, or the neighboring towns. But that might have been weeks or months ago.”

“And why is that a secret?” asked the marshall de-Vilgario. “That seems like a very straightforward mission. Why the secrecy?”

“It’s the implications of that information,” I replied, improvising.

“Which is?”

“One does not have to make a guess on the implications, my lords,” said knight-mage Rosalda Fiorlunta. “We have all heard of the terrible news about what happened in Veneiea and Scorro. We all suspect dark magic was involved there. And if we truly have a dark sorcerer at large, in our province, capable of wreaking death on that scale, then I can definitely understand why Mr. Espian here would rather not straight out and say it.”

Now it was my turn to breathe out a sigh of relief, as the tension in the room eased. I sent a quick telepathic jolt of gratitude. She smiled and nodded back.

What the former Cappesand mage-knight said silenced the room as everyone began to understand the implications. This was a twisting of the truth, but done unwittingly by someone they trusted more than me. A huge stroke of luck, or a very finely crafted move of diplomacy.

“I never heard of Vranik before,” said the marshall. At his side, colonel Aurian Piasno also shook his head but stayed silent.

“Neither have I,” said baron Fascamonta.

“If this dark sorcerer Vranik has carried out the tragedies of Scorro and Veneiea, then that means the Enemy has infiltrated our heartlands. We have failed to contain the threat!”

“Impossible!” cried colonel Aurian Piasno, his voice rising, and he pounded his fist on the table. “I have two thousand men stationed along the border at all times. I have another thousand patrolling the inner province, while captain Orsin and his corisseri guard the Vatrel Valley. There is simply no conceivable way the Enemy could have slipped through this defense of a hundred miles deep.”

Before the two men could enrage themselves again, I interjected.

“Vranik came through the Szell Counties and entered Lienor from the north. He lived in Scorro for many months before traveling to Veneiea. After that, he left for Caffria, where he could only stay for a short time. We don’t know for certain why he left, but it could be because his body was too mutated from dark magic to blend in with the common folk. So he escaped to Lottie, but we don’t know if he entered the city, or when, or whether he passed into Stotor.”

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“That’s right,” the marshall said, nodding along. “Because in the decade I’ve held command of this region, none of those foul, wretched beasts have passed through our borders!”

“Vranik might have slipped through your defenses at night. It might’ve been a week ago, or months ago. We can’t be sure,” I said.

A defeated cry came from the colonel Piasno. “Some months ago there was a very strange moment of confusion with the watch—”

A sharp gesture from the marshall silenced the colonel.

“No,” said the marshall. “The defenses hold and did hold during that week. It was only a mere mix-up, but the watch held. Nobody got through the patrols.”

“Marshall, I’m not entirely familiar with the terminology,” I said. “But could it have been possible that a small group managed to evade detection and slip through during the night? We fear Vranik is very powerful on sorceries.”

“No.”

Colonel Aurian Piasno, whose duty was to hold the border, seemed to want to say something and even opened his thin-lipped mouth. However, because of the unyielding silence of his superior officer, and his complete denial of any possibility, the colonel said nothing.

“Don’t push the marshall on this, Jonas,” said Florencia again sharply. “We already have our answer. Vranik probably created the mix-up and used that time to escape to Stotor. But we still have to comb through the city just in case. We also must find clues about the Zekt.”

“Very well, marshall,” I said, coloring my tone into a serious one. “In this case, the entire eastern province is in danger from Vranik.”

“The colonel shall triple his efforts with the patrols,” said the marshall, and colonel Piasno’s fingers gripped the table tightly. His knuckles were white.

I turned to baron Fascamonta.

“And this means that me and my company must comb through your city, and the neighboring towns, for any hints of Vranik. We must all be very cautious. If you hear any rumor about a ‘Great Man’, or an ‘Exalted one’, or a ‘Champion’, then you must tell me immediately.”

“My soldiers can handle a dark sorcerer,” said the marshall quickly.

“I’m sure they do, but Grasd Vranik is unlike anything you’ve encountered.”

I saw from his eyes that marshall de-Vilgario wanted to push back, but he was already exhausted from before. With a curt nod, he gave in.

I turned to the Lord Mayor again, who leaned against the table, his gaze drifting across the map before him that showcased the many small towns and villages under his governance.

“Me and my office will offer any assistance that is within my means,” said baron Fascamonta. “However, I must be honest, our resources are strained almost to the breaking point. We found ourselves needing to quadruple the numbers of our guardsmen, and nearly double the size of the local army purely to safeguard the province. And the influx of refugees, while heart-wrenching, has stretched us to our limits. There’s not much we can do for them—”

“Why not send them west?” asked Iskander, interrupting the Lord Mayor of one of the most important cities in the country. He immediately realized what he had done and stepped back. Yet the baron was, to our great relief, not offended.

“Sending the refugees west is not, unfortunately, an option. Can you imagine the kind of rumors that would spread all over the realm? Baseless fantasies of terrible, twisted beasts, and one with wings of shadows, and an all-consuming horde of monsters devouring entire villages…”

A silence fell in the room as we understood what was on the line.

“We cannot,” said the baron. “The refugees must stay in Lottie until a decision is made. We keep most of them in the village of Belcorvo, right on the border with Stotor. There, the honorable colonel Piasno is quartered. Despite our efforts, some of them still manage to make their way into our city. It’s also strange that instead of escaping further, most of them seem to lose all motivation and resign themselves to wander the streets. I don’t understand that. We offer food and shelter to those who are willing to help with digging the trench, but many don’t feel like working.”

The baron took some time to reflect on the situation and continued.

“Very well, Mr. Espian, agent of the King,” said baron Fascamonta. “Go and do your duty. Turn every stone if you must to find hints or traces of this dark sorcerer. I shall give orders to my office, and to the city guard to help you if they can, but I would not harbor hope of finding Vranik within the City of Flowers. Ottavio’s guards are ever watchful, and we have many agents and spies everywhere. There’s very little that happens within my city without our knowledge.”

“Understood, baron, but we must make sure. We will probably go to the surrounding villages as well,” I said, to which the baron nodded again.

“If there is anything within my power I can do to aid you,” he said, “do not hesitate to ask. One can always ask for help in Lottie. And if I can manage it, I will do what I can. I will send you away with captain Calis, head of the Lottie Guard. His guardsmen and investigators are much more immersed in the tiny minutiae of the new and old rumors that might not have reached my ears yet.”

Baron Fascamonta gave captain Calis a reassuring look, and the latter bowed.

“And when,” continued the Lord Mayor, “you find no trace of this Vranik in Lottie or its neighbors, then, perhaps, you will find time to lend us your help in return—”

“And there it is,” Florencia interrupted telepathically.

We were already waiting for it, and thus it came as no surprise. I saw the mage-knight Rosalda suppress a faint smile, and I suspect she had caught our telepathic whispers again. I hoped she hadn’t overheard what we said exactly.

“We are, as I said before, stretched very thin, and there are many leads we must follow up on,” continued baron Fascamonta. “Reinforcements are on the way, but they are not expected to arrive until spring or early summer next year. This has left all of us on edge, especially because the Vatrel Valley, which you know is in the Stotor territories, has fallen entirely silent in the past weeks. In the previous weeks, we would see an influx of a hundred refugees each month, all seeking escape from the madness that has taken their lands. However, the fact that has made all of us nervous, especially colonel Piasno, is that we have not seen a single soul alive in the valley! It’s as if the lands are utterly abandoned, and our scouts return with reports saying they’ve not seen anyone within fifty miles. That is—”

“Most troubling,” said the marshall, his authoritative voice colored with an undercurrent of worry. “But Vilip, surely Mr. Espian needs not to be burdened with such alarming news, now that we are holding secrets from each other.”

“Renzo!” said the baron with a raised voice. His voice was now devoid of diplomatic grace, and his face was twisted into a grimace that was neither inviting, nor warm, and could pass judgment on life and death without a second thought. “Our Majesty has his reasons for the secrecy, I’m sure.”

“No secrets—”

Suddenly, with a resounding BANG, the heavy double doors were pushed open, startling everyone inside the room. All stopped talking and looked at who had come.

Everyone gasped.

“Orsin!” exclaimed marshall de-Vilgario. “You’re alive!”

Through the doorway entered the meeting room a commanding figure who had the appearance of a fierce and old bear clad in bluish steel. He strode past the aides and officials with the confidence of ten men and removed his banged-up helmet of polished steel. Its once-proud plumes of rich blue and gold were ripped off, and now had many scratches on them.

“Reporting back as ordered, my lords,” said he with a deep and raspy voice that carried the weight of countless battles. “The vanguard of the Enemy is defeated. My apologies for the delay. The Spernno fields were too soft for our horses because of the heavy rainfall. We had to take the long route back.”

The captain’s face was dirty from mud and blood, and sweaty from great effort. He had come straight from the Stotor territories without a rest in between. His once-pristine set of steel armor was also marred by combat—dents and scratches, especially on his metal greaves and legs. The torpos-green cloak he had over the armor was ripped, and he had thrown it over his shoulder. And on his belt hung a short sword with a slight curve, alongside a long-handled mace that still bore the dried blood of its victims.

Despite the grueling battle and the following flight back to Lienor, the man’s bearing remained proud and resolute. He strode past the aides, their faces wide with shock at the sight of the heroic captain.

“We feared you were dead, captain!” exclaimed colonel Aurian Piasno, and had an uncharacteristic smile on his wide face that just did not seem to fit him.

“You didn’t give me orders to die, colonel.”

Both marshall de-Vilgario and the colonel laughed, along with everyone else. All were relieved that the captain of the Lottie Corisseri was alive, and the tension in the room had lessened considerably.

Captain Orsin approached the table. He cast his eyes on everyone present and stopped at us. In only a moment, he had judged us enough for a polite nod that barely moved his head before turning to his commanders.

The Lord Mayor was eager for information, and he asked first: “How many men did you lose?”

“Fifteen.”

“So few?”

“Do you know what happens to pikeless infantry when my corisseri crashes into their ranks?”

“I do not,” admitted the baron.

“They get annihilated, and this is what happened to the Enemy’s vanguard. No foul beast, no matter how terrifying they may appear, can withstand the might of my men. We destroyed the host to a man, and later we saw no sign of the Enemy in the Valley.”

A collective relief washed over the room once more.

“My lords, do I have your leave to rest and resupply my men?” asked captain Orsin. “My men are tired, and the horses need tending to, and our swords sharpening.”

“Of course, captain,” the marshall cried out and shook his hand passionately. He would’ve kissed him, had he had less restraint. “Please, Viccorio, go and rest, for Peace’s sake.”

“Only when my duty is done will I have peace,” said captain Orsin. “I shall report back at sunrise, first thing in two days.”

With that, the captain turned and departed, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions in his wake. The doors behind him closed, and everyone breathed out in relief.

The marshall and colonel drank the wine in their cups, wiped their forehead from sweat, and whispered among themselves.

The Lord Mayor turned to me and said with a sense of finality that I did not contest: “Mr. Espian, I shall entrust you to captain Calis, of the Lottie Guards. He will take you to his barracks, so you may do your investigation. If you wish, you may be quartered there for as long as you need, or as long as there are available beds.”

I offered a slight bow in acknowledgment to everyone in the room, and everyone there replied in kind. I felt the mage-knight’s attention on me as we left the meeting room and thought we should have a talk with her sometime in the future.

With that, all of us left the meeting room of the Lord Mayor.

As the heavy, intricately carved doors closed behind us, the muffled voices of the Lord Mayor and the marshall continued to resonate. Even with the good news that the bearlike captain Orsin had brought, the relentless work to safeguard the realm persisted. I understood that none of them had much time for rest and sensed that would be very much my own predicament not too far in the future.

Silently we made our way back downstairs, led by captain Calis of the Lottie Guards. The first floor was now empty, and we exited the town hall into a chilly night. The streets were also deserted.

“The barracks are nearby,” captain Calis said, and waited until we had gathered our horses before setting off on foot.

And as we walked the streets of the City of Flowers, I could again not stop thinking about the words “see the world through their eyes…”