“Every single piece of paper—every single one—is covered in signatures! There’s not a single blank space here! And you say more are coming every day?” Ricktor sat back in his chair, amazed. It was exactly what they needed. Ricktor stared at the pages suspiciously. Trust was a dangerous emotion. Ricktor had learned that lesson at a young age. He had been abandoned by friends. His wife had left him five years into their marriage. His mother had promised him the vegetables would taste good, try them. A thousand broken promises, a hundred betrayed vows, and his face hadn’t frozen like that, so there. The signatures were far too convenient. King Derk appeared to be thinking along the same lines.

“Aye,” said Derk, “It worries me. Who knew we wanted just such an excuse? How did they gather them so quickly? It was less than a week after my discussion with Talah that they arrived.”

“Sometimes coincidences happen. That is the foundation of faith, King Derk,” Talah said.

Ricktor caught King Derk’s eye. He was shaking his head. Talah was so young, “You’ve described hope, not faith,” Ricktor said.

“What then, is faith?”

“Believing these papers to be genuine,” Ricktor said.

Talah slammed her fist into the table, “What else are we supposed to do? We needed an excuse and we have it! I say we march within a week.”

King Derk gestured and a man dressed as a chef materialized, as though from thin air. In his arms he bore a large platter laden with soups and bread. Ricktor rubbed his eyes. He was sure no one had been standing there a moment ago.

“The day grows late,” said King Derk, “Let us eat while we talk. We will think better on full stomachs.”

He lifted a loaf of dark bread from the tray, “Is this genuine Villain rye?”

“As far as a humble chef can gauge, yes. Completely genuine. My sources even suggest more flour is on the way, though they could not locate the originator of this wonderful strain.”

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The man dressed as a chef bowed and vanished, fading back into the shadows. If Ricktor believed in girls’ stories he would think the man had been using magic.

“What was all that about?” he demanded.

Derk looked surprised, “Villain rye makes for the finest bread you will ever taste. It is a rare treat. I highly recommend it.”

Derk tore the loaf into pieces, handing one to both Ricktor and Talah.

“There. It is best while it is hot.”

He didn’t believe this. Eornost had always spoken favourably of King Derk, but Ricktor could not see why. The lives of thousands were on the line, and here he was discussing his favourite kind of bread. Ricktor threw his back onto the platter.

“Enough with this nonsense! We are discussing war. What supplies will we need? How quickly can we move our troops? What is the latest estimate of King Otto’s forces? And, most importantly, are these papers genuine?”

“My dear Conor, I find the times of great sobriety are also the times where it is most important to appreciate simple joys. It gives us all time to reflect. And, upon reflection, I can confirm that these papers are indeed genuine.”

Talah got it first, Ricktor a moment later, “The chef? But why… how… Do you trust him?”

“As much as it is possible to trust anyone. As much as I trust anyone here.”

Ricktor’s anger left him in an instant. He raised a glass to Derk, accepting the compliment. King Eornost knew what he had been talking about after all.

“I underestimated you King Derk. I apologize.”

King Derk smiled, “No need. Indeed, I hope you will forgive my crypticism. Now, since we know the papers to be genuine I suggest we send a herald at once to the people of Vesperdom. We need to demonstrate that we support them and their uprising.”

“It would be best if the herald was high ranking to show our full commitment. Myself or Derk should go,” said Talah.

Rictor hadn’t seen Talah look this excited since her father died. He suspected she was glad to finally be moving towards some goal. Unfortunately, he could not let her go, “Both of you are too valuable and too busy. Might I suggest the queen consort go in your place?”

“I am reluctant to send my daughter, but I must admit it makes sense. Camil has a way of winning people over, and close ties to us both. She’s also better equipped to defend herself if anything goes wrong. And she’s not injured. What do you think Talah?”

Talah fidgeted on the spot. He recognized the action. It had been the same when he was teaching her. She knew he was right, but was reluctant to agree with him. As always, her honesty forced her to concede, “I will ask her the moment we are done here.”

Talah was looking frustrated again. Ricktor decided she needed a distraction. He lifted his glass in the air, “Then we have a plan! To victory!”

Talah and Derk copied him, “To victory!”