The day after going to the archives, Kaeto found himself leaving the council hall in exasperation. Once again, his father was leveraging the current threat in an attempt to take executive power from the council. It was a tired tactic, and as usual, he’d been denied.

Unlike the times before, however, Jotaranell had stood for the motion. He held no real power in the court. His role was more advisory, but when he spoke, the councilors listened.

“Now is not the time for divided leadership, my friends,” the stargazer had said. “We must stand united in this time of crisis. While you all sit and bicker, the rebels draw ever closer, and if Master Keros is to be believed, the morantai are not far behind.”

A fair few councilors snorted at the mention of morantai, but fewer than would have a week before.

Jotaranell continued. “This council elected King Galdrin despite the possibility of rebellion. You made your choices, and now, after twenty years of civil war, those same rebels are here, heading towards the heart of our nation. What message would you be sending the people if you refused your king now?”

His words left the hall at a loss. Even Kaeto wasn’t sure how he felt about the matter. As king elect, his father held equal veto power to any of the council’s proposals, and he often served as a figurehead or representative for the kingdom as a whole. But to lead a city through a siege?

Unfortunately, Kaeto knew what kind of man Galdrin was, and the king had no skill at war. Thankfully, any direct military action was ultimately subject to the prince's authority. Still, if he was forced to defy his own father, well, he didn’t want to think about that.

Kaeto was actually somewhat surprised by the results of the vote. If the king had been given one more vote, the motion would have been passed, but Lords Javinaile and Vindar had abstained, leaving the verdict suspended at a tie.

At any time within the next two days, the pair could cast their votes and either pass or strike down the proposal. Their abstaining had left the whole council in a foul mood, and it seemed as if Jotaranell was similarly displeased with the outcome. Adding to everything else, the stress was starting to make Kaeto’s head hurt.

Distracted in thought, it took Kaeto a moment before he realized somebody was striding beside him. Keros matched the prince's steps despite Kaeto’s notably longer stride, his daughter walking behind the man beside Adarelle.

“Good evening, Lord Prince. Might I ask what’s on your mind? You appear troubled,” the northerner asked.

Kaeto gave him a polite smile. “Nothing of note, Master Keros. It’s simply a personal matter I must attend to.”

Keros gave him a warm smile that seemed filled with understanding. “My apologies then, my lord. I assumed that something of import happened in the council’s last meeting.”

Frowning, Kaeto did his best to hide his rising suspicion of the man. “Council matters are of no concern to you, Master Keros. If a decision relating to you is reached, you will be informed. Otherwise, I recommend you keep clear.”

Keros bobbed his head. “As you say, my lord. However, the Katori, like the astrologians, are well-practiced advisers. Many leaders north of the shattered sea rely on our council. I would like to extend the same to you, at least for as long as my stay.”

That gave Kaeto pause to think. The original plan he’d created with Adarelle’s aid involved staying near Jotaranell, but perhaps switching to Keros would be just as advantageous. Kaeto glanced back at Adarelle for a moment, and the woman gave the barest hint of a nod.

Returning his gaze to Keros, Kaeto said, “perhaps there is merit to your offer. Let me give you a hypothetical situation then. Say I was asked to resolve a dispute between two of my officers. We’ve just finished battling an army or rebels, Mito is only one night away from its second zenith, and the officers are debating how to bury the dead. Do they bury just the varin soldiers and leave the haetnellians to be resurrected, or do we bury both in a single grave?”

Keros gave him a slight but warm smile. “A test, is it then? Wonderful. My advice would be to bury them all together, then after the zenith return and separate your dead from the enemy.”

“Why?” Kaeto asked, keeping his expression blank as they walked.

“Well, my lord, leaving the enemy’s dead out on the field only means your army, already exhausted, would be facing the haetnellian soldiers twice. And the undead are more tenacious than the living. Even if you cannot return to separate the dead, the cost to morale would be better than the risk of losing more men.”

Kaeto nodded. “Good answer. Next question, then. My army is in the deep desert. Our provisions have mostly rotten, my raven masters are dead, the nearest resupply point is a week away, and reinforcements are three days away. If we continue on our current course, we’ll meet the enemy force in two days, but if we retreat to resupply then, they’ll be free to terrorize our territories. What would you recommend?”

Keros answered faster than before. “Simple, my lord prince. You would continue the course and face the enemy.”

Nodding, Kaeto said, “That is what I would do, yes. It would be more important to defeat the enemy and protect our territory than it would be to feed the soldiers. After the enemy force is dealt with, then we would return to resupply.”

“That is an option, of course,” Keros said, and Kaeto raised an eyebrow at the man. Keros continued. “However, if you successfully defeat the enemy and keep them from routing, then resupplying would be unnecessary. Simply take their supplies. Yes, your forces would be more spent, but even if you lose the war, you’d be delaying the enemy long enough for the reinforcements to intercept and finish them off.”

Kaeto smiled at the shorter man. “Yes, Master Keros, that is as sound a plan as I could create,” he said, offering his hand towards the northerner.

Keros took the prince's hand and smiled back at him. “I suppose then that you will accept my offer of advice then?”

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“Yes, I believe that would be for the best,” Kaeto said, then glanced at Adarelle and the young girl beside her. For some reason, the blank expression on Keros’ daughter’s face unsettled the prince. His steward could read his questioning expression and flashed him a quick smile. He took it as agreement. “Come, join me, Master Keros. I was just on my way to the raven masters’ hall.”

“Expecting a report then, my lord?” Keros asked. Kaeto nodded.

“Yes, they sent their birds out last morning. They should be back by now,” Kaeto said, and the four made their way to the outer edge of the citadel.

The raven hall keep was broad, flat, and round, with dozens of windows just large enough for the birds to fly through ringing the top three stories of the five-story structure. The group had to walk up three floors before they found anyone.

“Master Ranavein,” Kaeto said, approaching the stocky man in blue-gray robes. Ranavein jerked, upsetting the raven perched on his hand, the bird squawking like an old woman with a broken toe.

“Good, uh, night, my, uh, lord prince,” the tall man stuttered, stroking the back of his bird's head, then began shushing the animal.

“Night, prince,” the bird repeated in the deep, almost musical, voice male ravens often had. Kaeto smiled at the bird. As a boy, he’d spent several months training with the raven masters, training the birds and learning to understand their broken speech.

“Night, Jendyl,” Kaeto said to the bird, giving it a slight bow of his head which elicited a popping sound from the raven. “Master Ranavein, have you received the ravens’ scout reports?”

The raven master bowed his head, Jendyl calm again on his arm, now clinging to the side of his shoulder, head cocked as it studied the northerners.

“Actually, my lord prince, Jendyl just returned. Would you like to do the honors?” Ranavein said, and the bird hopped from his shoulders onto the man's hooded head.

“I would love to,” Kaeto said, raising his arm towards Jendyl. The bird cocked its head, made the same popping noise again, then leaped down onto his wrist and hopped halfway up the prince’s arm to rub his head against Kaeto’s cheek.

Kaeto laughed, stroking the back of the bird's neck as he walked to the mouse cupboards. Keros watched in fascination from the door leading into the room, his daughter still and blank-faced as before. Adarelle followed the prince.

Pulling open the door to one of the mouse cupboards, Kaeto lowered his voice and spoke to his steward. “What are your thoughts on the man?”

Adarelle helped him retrieve one of the white and brown mottled rodents as she replied, “He’s dangerous, but you already knew that. Something is wrong with his daughter if that's even what she is. I haven’t seen her face so much as twitch since they joined us.”

Kaeto nodded. “Keep watching her, and perhaps his daughter as well. Was making him an adviser really the wisest idea?”

She shrugged. “It's better to have him close. Besides, you don’t actually have to listen to the advice,” she said.

Kaeto nodded. “Very well. Come,” he said, then closed the mouse cupboard and tuned away, offering the small rodent held in his free hand to Jendyl. The raven trilled happily, then snatched the mouse from the prince and swallowed the thing whole.

“Now, Jendyl, Repot,” Keato said.

The raven finished swallowing, then spoke, voice like a sharp harp in the quiet room. “Gone, sands empty. Black sea, no enemy.”

Kaeto looked to Ranavein with a raised brow. “Empty?” he asked, and the raven master nodded.

“That matches the last two reports we’ve received so far. Our best guess is that they’re using a massive fog mask to hide their approach.”

“They would still leave tracks in the sand, though, wouldn’t they?” Kaeto asked, and the raven master shrugged.

“If they have starborn capable of masking such a force, then perhaps they can clear away any trace of their march as well.”

Kaeto scowled, glancing from Ranavein to Adarelle, then Keros. “Come, we need to speak with stargazer. Thank you, Jendyl, master Ranavein,” the prince said, handing the bird back, bowing slightly to it, then leaving the raven hall keep, kicking up a storm of black feathers in the wake of his gait.

Jotaranell’s quarters were closer to the citadel's heart, a good five-minute walk from the raven hall. He sped up the spiral stairs, the thudding echoes of leather soles on stone steps chasing him up and up.

He pounded on the door, shouting, “Jotaranell, I need your council. It's the rebels.”

Kaeto heard the others approaching behind him, steps quick on the stone. As usual, there was no sound from Jotaranell’s quarters for several long moments. As the prince raised a fist to pound on the wood again, the latch clicked, and the door swung open. Jotaranell was across the room, studying papers beneath of hanging net of moonstones.

“Master Jotaranell,” the prince began, but the stargazer held up a hand, cutting him off. Kaeto closed the distance between them, the other three not far behind him. When Jotaranell finally looked up from his papers and saw Keros behind Kaeto, he scowled.

“What is he doing here,” the stargazer snarled.

“He’s an acting advisor for the prince of stars. Now, we need to speak Jotaranell. The rebels…”

Jotaranell cut him off again. “No, my lord. I will not discuss sensitive materials in the presence of that thing,” he said, gesturing towards Keros.

Kaeto pushed a seething breath between his teeth and shook his head. “Leave us, master Keros,” the prince growled, gesturing at the northerner.

The Katori man bowed, then left with a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that Jotaranell spoke.

“Now, what has you in such a frenzy,” he asked, face set in a semi-permanent scowl.

“The rebels,” Kaeto said. “They’ve vanished.”

The stargazer frowned at that. “A fog mask?” he asked. “Of course it is. What else would it be? Stars, this will be worse than I'd expected.”

“I thought the haetnellians didn’t have starborn powerful enough for something like this,” Kaeto said, and the stargazer shook his head.

“They don’t. However, the Kortan city-states do.”

Kaeto’s mind raced as the stargazer spoke. “But Kortan is the home of the silverglass towers. The only starborn there are astrologians. They wouldn’t join the Haetnellians. They’ve always favored us.” Kaeto knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop.

“It would appear that the five have had a change of heart,” Jotaranell said quietly. Kaeto quieted. The five were the heads of the astrologian order, one for each of the five great stars. They rejected Mito as cursed, leaving the sixth tower empty.

"Stars," Adarelle said in a hushed voice like the soft clatter of broken glass. "They'll tear through the walls like they're made of plaster."

Kaeto looked back at his steward, her face pale and slackened with dread. It made his stomach twist.

Jotaranell rose from his desk. “Collect the speaker and your father, quickly,” Jotaranell said, and Kaeto’s brow scrunched together in confusion.

The stargazer scowled at his expression. “We’re out of time, my lord. If we want a chance against their forces, we will need the sword's power.”

“But Mito, the zenith isn’t for another night,” Kaeto began, but the stargazer growled.

“It’s close enough for our purposes. Go, boy, get the king and speaker, now! And grab that Katori. We'll need all the help we can get,” Jotaranell said, and before Kaeto could think, he was running from the chamber, barely registering the slight upward tilt at the corners of the stargazer’s lips.