Matt felt tired the next day as they started out, but at least he felt better than Tanya did. The woman and her attendants still had occasional chills as they rode, but they all wore determined expressions as they pushed themselves to keep up with the column. His suggestion that they return to Redspire had not been well received; apparently Tanya’s stubbornness had infected her attendants too, because both Goblins had practically drawn daggers on him for even voicing his concerns.

Most of the soldiers had rolled their eyes at the bravado, though a small number of the Shadow Hunters had whispered and laughed while Matt’s back was turned. The Royal First had not deigned to participate in the gossip, though Snolt had given him a sympathetic look or two as they made their way closer to Heartlight.

Tanya and her attendants were mostly recovered by the time they settled in for the second night’s camp, though Matt noticed that most of the soldiers had deliberately left a small clearing around Tanya’s tent. If Tanya herself had noticed, she gave no sign. Instead, she just retreated into the shelter and stayed there. There was a blessed lack of frigid explosions, which helped Matt sleep all that much better.

The third day, however, things started getting unpleasant.

At first, he thought that the weather was turning. Gusts of cold wind kept buffeting him from all sides, spearing through the warmth of his cloak and armor. He shivered from the chill and hunched down lower in his saddle, hoping that the cold didn’t impede their march before they could reach the city.

Then he noticed that the cloaks of the surrounding riders weren’t moving. They weren’t crouching low over their saddles, either. Some of them were even giving him odd looks, as if he was acting strangely. One of the lifeguard even appeared to be trying to hide a smile.

Suspicion struck him. The lifeguard wasn’t full of people immune to the cold; he’d seen them freezing alongside him during the ride from Ashpeak to Redspire. He doubted any of the rest of the soldiers were that much more used to freezing wind, either. It wasn’t like he was riding with a bunch of Frost Elves.

Another gust of wind hit him, and he crouched low and grunted as it seemed to blast straight through his cloak to chill the back of his neck. He caught a whisper of conversation and a subtle giggle. His suspicion became a full-fledged realization, and he turned back to see how Tanya and her attendants were handling the cold.

Tanya immediately snapped upright in her saddle, with an expression that was trying far too hard to achieve innocence. Her attendants were similarly trying to look in any direction but at him, something that couldn’t have made what they were up to more obvious.

Matt met Tanya’s eyes and glared at her. Her lips twisted as if she were going to grin, but then she simply spread her hands in apparent bafflement at his hostility. He raised his eyebrows, and her confusion turned into a smirk. Her attendants half-collapsed into fits of giggles on top of their Wargs, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the front. Maybe now that he knew it was them, it wouldn’t be quite as entertaining anymore.

The gust of wind that hit him a minute later seemed to prove his idea wrong.

Fortunately, Tanya’s Source did not seem quite as inexhaustible as Matt’s was. She seemed to run out of gas around an hour after he realized that the wind was coming from her. It was too late, however; by the time she stopped pulling her little trick, Matt was already plotting his revenge.

He hadn’t taken as many documents from Redspire on his visit this time; he hadn’t expected to have very much time to study or work on things while he was trying to stomp out a possible third rebellion. Just in case, though, Matt had taken a handful of Gnomish Earth Spells, hoping to be able to get used to the frameworks as he traveled.

One of them was called the Trickster’s Sneaky Pit.

By the time they’d reached the camp that night, he had a fair amount of confidence in his ability to control the new Spell. As they all set up their tents and got ready to settle in for the night, he pictured her and her attendants abruptly sinking up to their waist in mud. The framework built itself easily in his mind; the magic inside him cried out to be used.

For a long moment, he held the power in his hands.

Then he let the framework vanish and allowed the magic to subside back into its usual rumblings. As sure as he was of his control, the Spell was a new one. Matt could not be sure he could limit it properly. Tanya and her attendants could be buried in mud up to their necks, or worse, sink entirely into the soil. The pool of mud could extend beyond just her tent and engulf half the camp, inflicting misery on his own soldiers for a petty prank.

It wasn’t worth the risk. He was a King, not a child, and his people had already suffered enough for his mistakes. Power was a burden sometimes, but he intended to carry it well—at least until he finally had the chance to set it down entirely.

With a sigh, Matt settled into his bedroll and tried to sleep, bracing himself against another day of freezing gusts and giggles. He was almost to Heartlight; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

The next day’s march was actually far more peaceful than he expected.

Tanya gave him a few resentful glances, but other than that, she appeared to have gotten bored of tormenting him. The leagues between their camp and the city passed with relative ease, with just the normal cold and wind to battle against.

Heartlight came into sight early in the afternoon, an hour or two after they had stopped for lunch. Nestled in a low valley and sitting astride the River Heart, it looked about half the size of Redspire. Unlike the capital of the Kingdom, however, the buildings were all made of brick. From the lowliest slave hut to the most elaborate palace, everything had been built from the sturdy, dependable material.

Also unlike Redspire, Heartlight had exactly zero outer walls.

It was something of a boast by the Kingdom’s strongest High Clan. The Red Moon Orcs had been the greatest power within the Kingdom ever since they had usurped the position from the High Imps. It had been their strength that had forged the Kingdom initially, and their warriors had been the ones that had conquered others and compelled their obedience to the throne in Redspire. It was part of the reason that the capitol still bore a part of their name, and a legacy that they embraced every time the Kingdom marched to war.

For that reason, they had deliberately left their own home city unguarded, open to any surrounding threat that would dare attempt to strike at them. There were no walls, no gates, not even a moat that encircled the brick buildings. If one asked a Red Moon Orc if they needed such things, or had even considered it, they would receive a reply laced with contempt, braggadocio, and laughter.

The truth ran a little deeper, of course. Heartlight might not have had walls, but it did have strength of arms. In normal times, the Clan maintained a constant series of patrols. Numerous banners of Red Moon troops wandered through the Red Plains, purging their territory of bandits, rebels, or other undesirables. Any intruders were normally intercepted by those patrols long before they caught sight of Heartlight’s unguarded borders.

Even in time of war, Heartlight was no vulnerable fruit, ready to be plucked. Mat could see it in the way the buildings had been laid out, the way each structure had been deliberately planned and placed. The blocky buildings, made of brick, were built like miniature fortresses. Markets were contained in longhouses with narrow, arrow-slit windows and heavy portcullises ready to drop. There were elevated pathways made of brick that stretched between the larger buildings, giving the inhabitants a way to move between them even if war raged in the streets. At the center, near the river, was the Crimson Keep, a final fallback position that was meant to act as a sanctuary of last resort.

Any army that attacked this place, looking for easy meat, was going to find themselves continually outflanked and ambushed. Every structure would be a miniature stronghold, and there would be a struggle to take every street. The city would never be undefended, either; unlike most of the Clans, the Red Moons had guaranteed that all members of their tribe carried arms, even before Matt’s arrival. He didn’t want to think of the butcher’s bill that capturing the place would cost.

Smoke rose from the city, both from the normal hearthfires, and the brickworks, where the Orcs created the bricks they used in their construction. That area of the city appeared to have been built up recently, a fact that Matt suspected had been caused by his own request for a constant flow of material for his construction projects in Redspire. They’d only have more and more demand for their products as his reign continued, of course, so he hoped they would continue to have enough clay for the job—and that he wouldn’t run out of the coin to pay them.

The Goblins in the column fell silent for a moment as they drew closer to the city. There were watchtowers rising into the sky around Heartlight, and Matt could see signals flashing out the moment his troops came into view. Matt wondered what kind of welcome would be waiting for him. Would the Orcs meet him with diplomats or banners? Soldiers or nobles?

His question was answered as they drew close to one of the watchtowers. A group of messengers was waiting at the outskirts of the city, next to a standard that had been driven into the ground. The symbol of the Red Moon Orcs was drawn on the banner, and Matt supposed it was meant to be a signal to any visitors. One of the messengers stepped forward as the column came to a stop near them.

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“The Clan of the Red Moon bids you welcome to Heartlight, King Matthew! We have received your message and have prepared your accommodations ahead of time. I can lead your banners to the barracks where they can stay, while your… personal companions can come with you to the Crimson Keep.”

Matt glanced around at his troops. Captain Snolt was watching him carefully. The Goblin seemed understandably reluctant to let Matt out of his sight, given Matt’s suspicions about how things had been arranged. It was tempting to ignore the messengers and march his Goblin troops straight to the city’s central fortress. Technically, the Red Moons owed him their loyalty; they should accept his decision to bring his troops right into the heart of their sanctuary.

Realistically, though, if he wanted to bring the Goblins in, it would indicate that he saw the Red Moons as unreliable. They would believe he saw them as a threat. It would start his visit off on a tone of antagonism and hostility—and while he was certain there were some among the Red Moons who wanted that to happen, it wouldn’t help him at all to cooperate with their plans.

So instead, he nodded to Captain Snolt and smiled. “Captain, make sure that our troops are given the rations and fodder they need. Once they are settled, come find me in the Keep and report to me on your situation.”

Then he turned to the messenger. “My lifeguard, guests, and I will follow you to the keep now.”

The messenger’s eyes darted to the heavily armed men directly surrounding Matt. “Ah, I was instructed to only escort you and the Maiden…”

“My lifeguard has been assigned to me by the Great Council and have sworn to accompany me wherever I go. Even among friends.” Matt’s smile grew a little cold. “Given that the Houses of the Red Moon Clan were among those who chose to assign them to me, they should be familiar with their mission. Unless you believe I am not welcome here?”

The messenger froze in place, his expression shifting as he thought over the issue. It was clear the Red Moons had wanted Matt to feel isolated and vulnerable. Had they not expected him to not play along? The messenger obviously did not have orders covering the possibility, at the very least.

Finally, Matt offered the man a way out. “Perhaps you can send one of your fellow messengers to ask Lady Einreth what her directions are? I believe she is still the head of your Clan, is she not?”

There was a flicker of distaste in the messenger’s expression. Clearly, the man had been sent by a faction that was not on her side. Did Einreth even know about the situation? Was the enemy already trying to set up an ambush now, in the middle of the city?

Then the messenger shook his head and sighed. “I understand, King Matthew. Your lifeguard may accompany you. We would not want you to feel… unwelcome.”

The twist he put on the words made them somewhat sarcastic, as if he was trying to avoid directly calling Matt a coward. Matt raised an eyebrow. “That is fortunate. If it turned out that I was unwelcome, well… The Frost Elves could probably let you know how that went for them.”

He’d let his voice grow cold and hard on those last words, and the messenger drew back slightly. Matt met his eyes and let his smile vanish for a moment, picturing the brick buildings shattered and broken around him. It wouldn’t be something he wanted to do, but if the Red Moons wanted to play that game…

Then he smiled again, and the messenger shuddered. He started down the first winding street that would lead towards the Crimson Keep. Matt, Tanya and the rest of the lifeguard turned to follow—his guards were staring in all directions, as if expecting assassins to sprout from the walls. It was not a relaxing first visit to a city that was supposedly friendly to him.

Fortunately, nothing happened as they made their way through the city. There were plenty of Orcs who stopped and glared at them, but most simply regarded them with mild curiosity or annoyance at the inconvenience their presence in the street caused.

There were others in the city, people who obviously didn’t belong to the High Clan. They ranged from Elves to Knights to Wizards; serfs taken in battles long before Matt had risen to power. There were Goblins, Gnomes, and Imps as well; apparently the Orcs here didn’t see the need to exclude the rest of the Kingdom from their slave-taking. They all looked exhausted and ground down by their lives, which Matt doubted were filled with joy.

He gritted his teeth. It was one of the first places where he was being confronted by the reality of the Kingdom. Redspire had long been filled with freeholders, most of them liberated by Matt’s own decisions. Summerhall had been mostly free by the actions of their own nobility; the Gnomes in general seemed far more egalitarian than the rest of the Kingdom, and they had been enthusiastic in embracing the principles he’d espoused.

Ashpeak had likely had more serfs than freeholders, though the reports he’d heard put the number at around two-thirds of the non-nobles there. The Imps had been subtle about their abuses, though; during his visit there, he’d mostly been visiting nobles and military personnel, and it was likely that the serfs had been hidden away to avoid his notice.

The Red Moons obviously hadn’t cared about his opinion, and their barbarity was on full display here. From what he could tell, barely one in twenty serfs had been freed by the Clan, and there was no sign that they intended to change that fact any time soon. Such a callous display of disrespect and animosity set Matt’s teeth on edge and made his hands itch. It took a conscious decision to ignore the urge to start throwing around royal decrees and leading a serf rebellion against their former masters. That course of action would immediately drive three quarters of the nobles into rebellion, no matter what he’d done so far.

Matt let his expression grow grim. Piece by piece, he’d tear the old establishment down and build something new in its place. Something new. Something better.

“I’m grateful that you came all this way, sire, but I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish here.”

Lady Einreth had received them as soon as they had reached the Keep. She had been waiting in the courtyard of the fortification, dressed in a simple tunic rather than the dueling armor she had worn the last time he’d seen her. The messenger that had been leading them had paused when he saw her, and then bowed and excused himself. Einreth had dispatched her own servants to bring their possessions to the rooms the Clan would lend them, and then invited Matt and his lifeguard to join her in her own chambers while Tanya and her attendants followed their belongings.

Now she was facing them across a table, her expression worried despite her attempt to seem unflappable. The last time she had spoken with Matt, it had been a conversation full of accusations and threats. He wondered if this time she was expecting more of the same.

Matt leaned forward, trying to seem calm. “You remember what I said the last time that we met?”

Einreth shifted. “It would be hard to forget, sire.” Then she shook her head. “The assassins never came for me in Shadowfen. I do regret that they came after you, as you predicted. My actions placed the Kingdom in danger, and I—”

He held up a hand, and she stopped. “The assassins might not have come after you in Shadowfen, Lady Einreth, but I believe they are coming for you here.”

She made as if to answer and then paused. “You believe the challenge has something to do with Lady Suluth?”

Matt nodded. “I believe so, yes. She already tried to kill me again on the road from Ashpeak. She may have been waiting for me at Shadowfen as well.”

The Orc stirred slightly. “I admit it makes sense, but why would Tolreth go along with it? He was never incredibly fond of the Goblins, and Suluth should not have anything to offer him.”

“Not even control of the Clan?” Matt looked around the room, noting the tapestries and fine furniture. “If she somehow has given him a way to be sure that he’ll win the duel, then he might have agreed to whatever plan she has going. He might even intend to follow her into rebellion if he does seize control.”

Einreth nodded slowly. “I was fairly confident that I could defeat Tolreth easily. We’ve sparred before, and I’ve won every time. You think Tolreth intends to cheat?”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t, honestly.” He frowned. “He can’t be acting alone, can he? Tolreth has to have some kind of backing within the Clan.”

“He does, sire.” Einreth grimaced. “Unfortunately, there are… several members of the major Houses that believe the Clan of the Red Moon is being ignored and dishonored. They claim you are elevating lesser peoples above us, and that you seek to force us to diminish.”

Matt tilted his head. “The members of the Great Council from your Clan don’t appear to agree with that argument.”

“They wouldn’t, sire. After all, they are the ones who volunteered to go to Redspire to represent us.” She folded her arms. “Those with more… militant views have refused to have anything to do with the Council, or with Redspire. Some of them are speaking about going our own way.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh. “After what just happened to Itrelia?”

Einreth spread her arms. “They say that the Frost Elves were weak. That they failed because they lack our might. Some say that if we rise, we could take on the entire rest of the Kingdom and win.”

He studied her for a moment. “How many are listening to them?”

She shrugged. “Many of the younger nobles, the ones who haven’t seen much battle, or my brother’s closest friends.” A flash of anger crossed her expression. “Tolreth is one of those. He had the audacity to imply that my cooperation with you dishonors my brother’s memory. That I was bought with promises of treasure, and the reward of a false title in his memory. For that alone I would gut him, but he has also chosen to challenge my authority in the Clan as well.”

Matt frowned. “Are the duels usually to the death?”

Einreth smiled. “It is traditional in this case, yes. It tends to leave fewer opportunities for failed contenders to complain later.” Then she looked away. “Nowadays, protocol allows the challenged party to decide whether the duel lasts until first blood or goes until one contender is dead. Given his insults to me…”

“You chose for it to be to the death.” He felt a burst of dread. It was a textbook form of manipulation. What had Sun Tzu said? ‘If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him.’ They had taunted her into setting the terms for her own assassination. It had to have been intentional.

Matt lowered his head, still thinking hard. There had to be a way to turn this situation around. He just needed a little more time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get much more. He’d only been able to delay things thanks to demanding to supervise the duel. Now that he was here, Tolreth was well within his rights to push forward with the fight.

He looked up. “Are there any other rules or restrictions for these duels? Anything else that Suluth and Tolreth could use?”

Einreth peered at him with apparent skepticism. “There are some. Outsiders are not allowed to interfere with a duel once it has begun. Each party is only allowed to use a single Spell during the duel. If there is more than one person on each side, they can each use only one Spell. They can use whatever armor and weapons they want, but no animals or mounts.”

It sounded interesting, but there didn’t seem like there would be any loopholes to take advantage of. Then he paused. “Wait. There can be more than two people involved in the duel?”

She nodded. “Yes, sire. If a person challenges more than one person at a time, or if there are groups challenging one another, they might choose to fight as a group. All parties have to agree, however, before anyone steps into the ring.”

“Hmm.” Matt rubbed at his chin for a moment. “Nothing else?”

Einreth shook her head, and Matt grunted. There had to be more to the situation.

Before he could say anything else, however, a servant knocked at the door. Einreth gestured for them to come in, and the servant presented a letter. The Orc looked it over and blinked. “The elders of the Clan have decided to welcome you with a feast. We are all invited to come to it tonight.”

Matt grimaced. A diplomatic dinner did not sound like his idea of a good time. Then again… “Will Tolreth be there?”

She nodded, and he grinned. “Well, I guess we should eat together before we all try to kill each other tomorrow. Right?”