The next morning, Galliel’s Army of the South merged with the Army of the West, and the combined divisions enveloped the southwest corner of Encelas. Staying out of range of archers and catapults, the black-garbed soldiers spent their time constructing ladders, battering rams, and immense siege towers.

Inside the city, every able-bodied citizen spent the day preparing to repulse Galliel’s attack. Those who could draw bows practiced archery, those who could swing swords practiced fencing, those who could cast spells practiced sorcery, and everyone else struggled to support the archers, swordfighters, and spellcasters.

Except for the Surgeons, that is. The chamberlain specifically ordered us to rest, so we were exempt from battle preparations. Dannik and Hubril didn’t seem interested in conversation, so I decided to wander through Encelas. I’d hoped to explore the city earlier, but I hadn’t had the time.

I spent the morning browsing empty shops and silent bazaars, wondering what experiences I might have had if the city had been at peace. I visited the Astral Observatory in the northwest and a Wizard’s Mansion in the southeast, but these and other landmarks were empty. Emillor’s Arcane Emporium was reputed to have the widest variety of enchanted items in the kingdom, but the sign on the bronze door read CLOSED – ALL MERCHANDISE REQUISITIONED BY LORD BERROL.

Every tavern was shuttered except for a squalid dive bar named The Swarthy Hog. I bought a mug of ale and chatted with the kobold bartender. Of course, all the gossip focused on the upcoming attack. According to the bartender, the chamberlain had sold his soul to demons to learn the secret of killing darkwalkers. Another patron heartily agreed, and said Lord Berrol was going to use Theris-blessed mithril to slay Galliel’s undead soldiers. When asked if I’d heard anything interesting, all I could do was shrug my shoulders. What could I say?

As I left the tavern, I checked the Local Map. I’d visited every point of interest in the city, and I was about to head back to the mansion. Just then, a dwarf ran up to me with a wide grin.

“Dylan! It’s good to see you, though I barely recognized you dressed as a coachman. I’m glad you made it to Encelas.”

I blinked, narrowed my eyes, and studied the dwarf, who appeared to know me well. Then I recognized the hapless thief I’d met on the Londorin Road.

“Dolgar!” I clasped his hand. “You’re looking much better. How is Torli?”

“She’s wonderful. I found a job as a metalworker, and she’s working as a cook. Lord Berrol drafted her into his support division yesterday, and she’s baking meat pies for the soldiers. I have some spare time, so I’m returning home for lunch. Would you like to join me?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t want to take up your time.”

“Think nothing of it!” Dolgar laughed. “With the gold you paid for Torli’s crossbow, we bought a tiny house. Offering you a meal is the least I can do.”

⚔

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I followed Dolgar to a hovel on the outskirts of the city slums. The surrounding houses were little more than broken-down shacks, but Dolgar’s house had been carefully repaired with new wooden beams. I followed the dwarf inside, squatting to keep my head from striking the ceiling.

Dolgar beckoned me to a table, then cut slices of bread, lettuce, and hunks of what appeared to be mutton. He handed me a sandwich and sat. “You must tell me what you’ve been doing since we separated on the Londorin Road. Did you reach the lizardfolk city?”

I nodded and took several bites out of the sandwich, which turned out to be delicious. I told Dolgar about how I’d killed the basilisks in the Zelenkh’s mines, and I showed him the silver bolts they’d given me as a reward.

“Incredible!” Dolgar said. “Then what happened? How did you get to Encelas?”

I paused. I wanted to tell Dolgar about the werewolves and rakshasas I’d encountered in the city, but I held my tongue.

“I came across a nobleman named Sir Amberley on the Londorin Road. His coachman had fallen ill, so he hired me to take his place. I’m staying at his mansion in the south of the city.”

The dwarf shook his head and smiled. “You’ve done well for yourself, my friend. Have you been assigned a position in the army?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll report to Captain Rungir, leader of the King’s Arbalests. From what I hear, he’ll take anyone who can fire a crossbow.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great asset.” Dolgar sat back. “But if you don’t mind my saying so, you seem, ah, glum. If you’re worried about the battle, put your mind at ease. Lord Berrol is certain that Galliel’s darkwalkers can be beaten with enchanted silver. It sounds crazy, I know, but I’ve spent all day casting blades.”

“I’m not worried about the battle,” I replied, finishing the last of my sandwich. “I met a woman a couple days ago, and I can’t get her out of my mind. But there’s a problem.”

Dolgar waggled his finger at me. “Don’t dally with aristocrats, my friend. I’ve seen what happens when nobles play games with servants, and it always goes badly for the servant. No matter what she tells you, remember this—she’s an aristocrat first and a woman second.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then closed it. Dolgar had a point. Delvorra had been the queen of Norburne, so she probably thought of me as nothing but a peasant—a tool to break her out of the Enclave’s confinement. But I figured she wouldn’t betray me, the interloper, until she knew more about my other world. Delvorra hungered for knowledge, and so long as she remained curious, she wouldn’t stab me in the back. Or so I hoped.

“The problem,” I said, “is that she’s in prison.”

Dolgar’s eyebrows shot upward. “You won’t last long as a coachman if you cavort with outlaws, my friend. If we win the battle, we’ll talk to Torli. She knows many women worthy of your attention, and these are respectable women you can settle down with.”

I wanted to tell Dolgar that settling down wasn’t an option. I had a difficult, dangerous mission ahead, and if I freed Queen Delvorra, I might stand a chance against the necromancers of Norburne. But would I stand a chance against her?

"Another thing," Dolgar leaned close to me with a knowing look. "You need to set aside the rogue's life, wild and independent though it may be, and concentrate on being a coachman. In my entire life, I've never met a female rogue or a proper woman who fancies rogues."

I heard Delvorra's voice in my head, as clearly as if we'd spoken moments ago: I was a rogue before I was a queen, and a queen before I was a necromancer.

Dolgar swallowed his mouthful and continued. "Women like men who are honest, reliable, and hard-working. If you save your copper, you might be able to start a stable of your own. This may come as a surprise, but the stablemaster in Elinia was once a humble coachman like yourself. It only took him fifteen years!"

Alignments seemed to be fluid in Realms of Shadow. If Palomir the Just could fall from grace, couldn’t Delvorra rise from villainy? It had to be possible.

“I'll keep that in mind.” I wiped my mouth and smiled. “Thank you, Dolgar. Both for the lunch and for the advice. You've given me a lot to think about. Give my best to Torli.”