Larsen couldn’t find the little wretch and was getting annoyed. He had put up with more from Keres than he had ever handled before, solely in the interest of keeping Orion happy, but now with Orion about to be removed from the picture, his annoying nephew could be dealt with. Frustrated, he grabbed a guard by the arm.

“Where is Keres?” he asked brusquely.

The guard turned with scowl, which instantly turned to fear as saw who it was. “Guildmaster!” He bowed his head. “He was disciplining the Captain of the Gate, sir.”

“What? Why?” Larsen knew—the boy was flouting his position as Assistant Guildmaster and ordering people around for no reason than just the joy in the power. It made Larsen sick. Still, he had asked.

“I know not, sir.”

Shaking his head, Larsen muttered, “Why would he distract the Captain of the Gate when we are in a state of war? He is needed there.” Turning his attention to the guard, he snapped, “Bring him to my office. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was a full hour later when Keres strode into Larsen’s office, an arrogant smile on his face. Larsen stared at some papers on his desk, and in his most intimidating voice and without looking up, said, “Sit down.”

Keres sat down, but didn’t say anything. After a delay that Larsen felt was long enough to let Keres know that his time belonged to Larsen, the Guildmaster looked up while pushing the paper aside.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity that you don’t deserve,” Larsen said, his voice emotionless.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Keres was lounging in the chair, slouched to the side and looking at Larsen with his head tilted. He looked as if he was entertained and was simply waiting to hear what kind of foolishness Larsen was going to say next.

“Let me outline your accomplishments first,” Larsen said through clenched teeth. His instincts were to just kill the boy, but he didn’t want to do anything until he confirmed Orion was dead. Instead, he’d send Keres off on a mission where he would do no harm or, just as likely, die.

“You have angered the Guild guards with your disdain for the rules. You have angered every one of my Captains with your disregard for their authority. You have the entire guild talking of your impertinence, and you have angered my Deputy Guildmaster with your disrespect.”

Keres shrugged. “I’m the Assistant Guildmaster. They should respect me.”

The boy’s arrogance triggered Larsen’s temper. “Listen, welp. You are here for one reason and one reason alone—as a favor to your uncle. You are a useless little piece of refuse, whose luck is solely due to being shat out close enough to the River so that it can pretend it’s a ship as it floats along the waves.”

Keres clapped his hands slowly. “That’s an amusing image. Did you just come up with it now or have you used it on others?”

Larsen took a deep breath. He realized that the boy’s arrogance was so absurd that he didn’t realize who he was dealing with. His options were to simply jail him or find a new way to redirect his troublesome nature. Still unsure of how the Orion scenario would play out, Larsen decided to go with the route that seemed the most likely to succeed.

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“So you want to prove yourself? You feel like your authority rivals mine?” Keres shrugged while not moving from his casual position on the chair. “Fine. I have been friends with your uncle for a long time. Perhaps I owe him a chance for you to prove your abilities with real authority.” It was a lie, of course, but Keres straightened up in his chair, looking curious.

“I’m not going to be Captain of the Money Counters.”

Larsen stared at him. He didn’t know which was worse: The boy’s lack of appreciation for the importance and difficulty of that job or the boy’s telling Larsen which job he would or would not take.

Shaking his head, Larsen forced a smile. “No. I am not going to name you Captain of the Money Counters. I have a much more important job for you, one related to the ongoing mission with your uncle.” Of course, Orion had recently outlined his concern over Larsen’s strategy, but he doubted Keres was aware of that.

“Go on.”

By the gods Larsen hated the boy’s arrogance. Taking another breath, he outlined his plan. “As you are aware, your uncle and I are consolidating our power over Ness. This involves us creating suffering among the Harvest Guild members, for which they will blame Polo. They will then remove Polo, and our path to ruling Ness will be secure.”

Keres nodded. “This is my uncle’s plan?”

“It is our plan. We will rule Ness together.” Larsen slapped his hand on his desk impatiently. “But you know this. You are here as a sign of our friendship.” His temper rising again, Larsen spoke through clenched teeth. “As I noted, you have abused the kindness I have shown Orion. But—” Larsen held up his hand. “I have a way that will allow you to not only contribute to your uncle’s plan but to do so while earning the respect of the entire city.” Larsen forced a smile. “You may even be called a hero.”

“And what is this heroic job?”

The tone of Keres’ voice was the last straw. Larsen’s anger had reached the point where he was eerily calm. He moved with an exaggerated slowness, as he spread his hands on his desk. He stared at Keres, who smiled his arrogant smile as he returned the stare.

“It is simple. You will travel across Traders Bridge to the Inner Fields. You will examine the intentions of Polo’s guards. Are they organizing? Are they planning on attacking us over Traders Bridge? You will then return to me and let me know what you find.” Larsen leaned forward as if daring Keres to turn down the mission. “Simple.”

“My family is well-known in the Upper Triangle. It would be difficult for me to disguise myself.”

“Who said anything about a disguise?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Keres stood up, and to Larsen’s shock he looked angry. Pointing behind Larsen, Keres continued, “Look out on the city. Do you see the results of your idiotic plan?”

“What are you doing?” Larsen exclaimed as Keres marched around Larsen’s desk. Grabbing his knife, Larsen watched as Keres ignored him and strode over to the large plate glass window behind Larsen’s desk. It overlooked the Lower Quarter.

“Fires. Battles. Refugees. Who in their right mind thought this was a good plan?”

Larsen clenched the knife in his hand and stood up. “Your uncle.”

“My uncle?” Keres spun around and looked at Larsen. “This is all your doing, Larsen.” Keres shook his head. “The Inner Fields? Have you lost your wits? The moment I’m recognized, the Harvest Guild will hang me from a tree.”

Larsen approached Keres, not quite sure if he would stab him right there or have the boy dispatched deep in the guild prison. “Your cowardice does not become you,” Larsen replied, walking up to the window and looking out. “The guild members know why they are being driven off—their guildmaster betrayed them. They have no issue with me.”

Larsen was about to give his ultimatum: Take the mission to the Inner Fields or die in the dungeon, but before he could say anything Keres pushed past Larsen and took a step toward the door. He paused, however, and turned.

“I will not hang, Guildmaster, and do you know why?”

Larsen sighed. The relentless arrogance and annoyance of Keres had sapped all his anger. Torture and death in the dungeon it would be. “No, but I’m sure you are going to inform me.”

“Because I will be Guildmaster and fix your mistakes.” And with a suddenness and violence that Larsen could not have predicted, Keres took a step and planted a hard, high kick directly into the center of Larsen’s chest.

Larsen flew backward. As he spun his arms, Larsen slammed into the window, which shattered behind him. His momentum carried him through the window and then down a long fall that ended on the smooth, hard cobblestones below.