There was a knock on the door.

“No!” Caudin said, lifting his head from his pillow. “Nothing before noon!”

The knock came again.

“We’re on vacation from six in the morning until noon. It was promised!”

“Your Highness,” Jemerie said, muffled by the door, “I know what the deal was, but this cannot wait.”

Caudin leaned over and kissed his wife, then grumbled, “How do they expect us to make an heir if they’re working us all the time?”

“Don’t blame Jemerie,” she said, yawning. “You were asleep.”

“I was waking up, though, and then…” He tied the belt to his robe and gave her a look. “And then.”

He answered the door to the room provided by Duke Chaslise, a staunch Royalist who had managed to keep his mansion and most of his wealth, unlike most of the aristocracy. Jemerie stayed outside and spoke with an informative tone that was meant to be quiet. For most, it would have been.

“Who’s Captain Corpresti?” Anla asked when her husband returned to their bedside, not to sleep but to dress.

“When I knew him, he was already a captain at a young age. He was head of the household guard. Still is, Jemerie says. I’m told he’s willing to turn heel on the Kalronists.”

“The man who let them into Dilvestrar in the first place and sat back with his men as they took the palace? Sounds like a trap.”

“I know. Which is why I need you there when I meet him.”

“Just to listen?”

“As easy as this whole thing would be if you worked a little of your magic, I’m never going to make you do that. It’s your choice.”

She nodded and slid out of bed, hugging him. He kissed the top of her head, then chuckled. “I’m not sure if we’re still on the topic of your choice or heirs. You are completely undressed.”

“I am. And we don’t have to meet with him immediately, do we?”

“I do enjoy the way your mind works,” he said, lifting her chin and kissing her.

They were ready an hour later and borrowed the Duke’s hansom, making sure to bundle against the cold. A chill had blown snow and frigid air down from the north mountains and the temperatures were unreasonable, even for the end of autumn. While Caudin wore his normal wool suit with the only difference being gloves and a coat, Anla wore a fur hat and muff with her emerald green overcoat.

It was about ten miles into town. The snow had melted enough that the horses were walking through mostly melted slush instead of plowing through feet of hard snow. They saw people walking around in town without too much concern for the weather.

“Look,” Caudin said, pointing to a man hammering a plank into a business next to few colleagues.

“That’s a great sign,” Anla said. “People feel good about helping others start their businesses.”

“Exactly.” When the man noticed them looking, he waved and smiled. It was an open secret in the town as to who Caudin and Anla were and what they were planning on doing. They waved back cheerfully.

They disembarked a few streets down and entered a warehouse. If he hadn’t seen Jemerie and Rogesh standing across the street, he would have questioned things. He led Anla inside and a man escorted them to the back.

Captain Corpresti stood when they entered the office, his bowler already in his hands. “Captain,” Caudin said, shaking his hand. “It’s been a while.”

“It has, Your Radiance,” he said.

“We’re using ‘Highness’ as the moment, since I’m not coronated. This is my wife, Duchess Anladet, though in this case she’d be ‘Your Majesty’.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it, almost touching her wrist to avoid her fingertips. As he did, Caudin watched him for any signs of deceit. He certainly seemed nervous, a thin sheen of sweat already dampening his thinning hairline and his shaved upper lip despite the coldness of the room. He was stiff and jerky, not in a formal way or even speaking of his training and occupation. This was making him uncomfortable, but was it because he was afraid of getting caught or because he was, once more, causing the fall of a monarchy?

“Sit,” he said and Corpresti almost slammed his body down into the chair.

“Your Highness,” he began, eyes looking everywhere but him, “I wanted to offer my sincerest apology.”

“For?”

“I…don’t know where to begin. I was tasked, honored, with serving your family. Then, I was led astray. Money, threats, ideology, it doesn’t matter, I broke my promise. I let the Kalronists inside the palace. I stood down while they murdered your family. I’ve told myself excuses for a long time, that it was inevitable, that I needed to take care of my family before anything else, but the guilt has eaten at me. I said, ‘It’s too late. They’re all gone and we just have to deal with what we have’. But, it’s you, isn’t it?” He looked up at him finally.

“It’s me,” he said, giving him a hard smile, “the little boy who, despite you saying you were a family man, knows that you were flirting outrageously with my sister’s maid, Tayena, and once caught you two in the garden underneath the maple tree. So, I suppose it wasn’t the first vow you broke.”

Corpresti blanched at this, perhaps at the shame or because he realized it actually was his prince before him, but likely due to both. He mumbled and stammered for a few moments.

“I heard about what you did to Stevrin Palerno,” he said, his tone getting pointed. “You sold him out as well as his revolution. Did you know I’ve met him?”

“H…how is he, Sire?”

“He’s half-mad and living with to’ken in the middle of the Gamik Sea. He can’t go home, because he’d be tried as a traitor, and he can’t go to Gheny, because they’d ship him to the desert where he’d likely die. He was your friend, no?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see why your apology is unbelievable and your offer to help us seems suspect?” Anla grabbed his hand to calm him down.

“I do.”

“Tell me one thing: what did you do the night of the Coup?”

“I was…I was tasked with burning the ships in the harbor. That’s where I took my men.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“My men. And you’d be the reason why I was unable to escape to Kinto.” He took a deep breath. “At least we have some ground. Had you been anywhere near the palace, I’d run you through right now.”

Corpresti looked up, alarmed. “I come unarmed and alone…”

“…a mistake.”

“I was assured safe passage.”

“Not by me. Did you happen to hear what they did to my family after they were killed?”

“I was told no harm was going to come to you!” he said, his hands on his knees. “They promised that they were going to charge you for crimes and lock you in a prison! I didn’t know…I believed them and that was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

At this point Anla squeezed his hand hard, digging her nails into Caudin’s palm. He turned to look at her, then nodded before turning back to face him. “Did you come today to apologize?”

“Yes, and to right wrongs. I’d like to offer whatever I can to help overthrow the Kalronists.”

“And what would that include?”

“I’d give you information. I’d order my men to stand down or fight for you. I’d smuggle you into the palace. Whatever you needed.”

“Why? Forgive me, but at least twice now you’ve decided to side with the Kalronists over the monarchy and tradition. Are you fond of change or is there something you’re not telling us?”

“It’s time to do what’s right, Sire. I’ve seen the good you’ve done for the people, even out of power.”

“Surely you’d like to tell us more, Captain?” Anla asked.

His face softened as her magic took affect. “The Kalronists are close to bankruptcy. They haven’t paid some of my men in months. It’s only time before they can’t pay me. And I can’t stand the Chancellor. He’s insulted me far too many times. I’ve had to stand there and take the abuse from that disgusting swine for eighteen years. And the more desperate the Kalronists are, the worse the abuse gets. It’s reached a boiling point.”

“Honesty,” Caudin said. “How refreshing.” Corpresti blinked a few times and frowned. “You could start today, if you wished, as a sign of good faith. I’d like the names of key players in the Kalronist government, especially anyone who is more backdoor with the movement, and also any events happening in the next few months.”

“Like the New Year’s Masquerade?”

“That…would be one. Please give us details before you leave.”

“Sire, I wish for only one thing. Please keep my family safe. My children are grown, but things can still happen.”

“As much protection as I can give, I will. Your family is safe.”

“Thank you,” he said.

As they were leaving the warehouse, Caudin asked, “So?” of his wife.

“He’s layered. While he’s not lying, he’s also lacking that spine-straightening patriotism I’ve heard from so many others. He’s an opportunist. He’s a rat jumping ship.”

“He bought the wrong property and is now realizing the land floods and the crops won’t grow.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry I lost my temper in there. I still need to work on my anger.”

She rubbed his arm soothingly. “Thank you for admitting it.”

“Now, after we speak with Jemerie and Rogesh, I have some meetings. Then, tomorrow, we’re having another vacation.”

“Such luxury,” she said, giving him a crooked smile that made him laugh.

* * *

The following evening Caudin met with his council. This included Al and Anla, Rogesh, Jemerie, another former principal named Triniste, Equienth, and Brevairn, the new Principal of Education who had once been known as Kidelimore.

(Caudin had no idea why he had chosen that industry, since it wasn’t a top choice, but he had learned over the last two months that Brevairn was tenacious and ambitious. He was extraordinary at pulling resources to get what was needed and had been invaluable to the reclamation effort, but Caudin knew he was in for a reign where Brevairn would haunt him until he got what he wanted.)

“Now that we have an inside source to the palace, we can be a bit more clear about who is there and in what capacity,” Caudin said. “What is most important is figuring out who we need to take out of the picture in order to topple the government. Who is indispensable?”

“The Chancellor,” Triniste offered.

“Not very efficient at ruling, but the figurehead of the Kalronists. Definitely him.” Caudin noted that Equienth took the initiative in taking notes. “He’ll have the people that are propping him up. Not his lackeys, though they get a spot, but the shadow rulers, the ones who pull the strings above the curtains.”

“I’m pretty sure that would be Amonri, Chaste, and Lechab,” Jemerie said. “They helped fund the Kalronists after they took office and have received quite a few kickbacks. I think Commres would know better than I about anyone else.”

“Al, make a note to ask him about that, and anyone else who may know.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about our potential methods and I’ve come to the decision that we will not shed blood. I do not want anyone killed.”

“Admirable, Sire, but impossible,” Rogesh said. “Someone will draw steel to protect themselves.”

“What if they don’t have steel?”

“Could there be a situation where we can capture as many high ranking, unarmed Kalronists?”

“The New Year’s masquerade.”

“Oh,” Al said, grinning. “Yes, you’re doing The Masquerade.”

“What?” Caudin asked.

“It’s Desuint’s most popular alley novel.”

Caudin threw up his hands while Jemerie said, “Not here it wasn’t. Did it do well in Gheny?”

“It was at least the nation’s favorite if not in the top three best-selling alley novels.”

“Hum,” Jemerie said, trying not to look proud. “I’m glad someone liked it. It received a lot of criticism here for being too farfetched. Everything happened conveniently, they said.”

“What was so convenient about it?” Al asked, genuinely curious. “It seemed plausible to me.”

“That was what I said.”

“You’ll have to explain this to me,” Caudin said. “I didn’t read it, though I do know someone who said it was her favorite alley novel.”

“When was this?” Al asked.

“When you were…indisposed.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, what happens in the novel is a group of people slip into Dilvestrar on the night of a masquerade. Then, they take a target, subdue them, and take their mask and place. Then, the Chancellor moves the party to the throne room, to show off, and he finds Caudin draped across the throne. When he calls for his arrest, he takes off his mask and so does everyone else. The Chancellor finds himself alone and challenges Caudin to a duel. He wins and the throne is retaken.”

“I can see why that didn’t hold water. I have a lot of problems with that,” Caudin said. “I’m not ‘draping myself across the throne’, first of all. And you’re also asking dozens of people to subdue other people who likely don’t have the skills to do so. It’s not like you can bash someone across the head and expect them to pass out every time. And where did you put all the bodies?” he asked, turning to Jemerie.

“Uh, I think the canon was in one of the dining rooms.”

“You had a hundred unconscious bodies in a dining room and no one happened to stumble across them? Or none of them woke up early and sounded the alarm? I understand fiction doesn’t have to be factual to enjoy it, but if you’re going to base our strategy upon a book, we need to iron out a few wrinkles.”

“It would be better to stop the guests from coming in the first place,” Triniste said.

“That would mean knowing who was invited and stealing their invitations before they got them, which are likely hand-delivered by someone who’s trusted.” Caudin shook his head. “It’s too complicated and risky.”

Al spoke. “We have a hydra situation; take out the Chancellor and you’ll have two cronies taking his place with sympathy from supporters. We either keep taking people out, who will likely go into hiding or be better guarded, or we take them all out at once. And when else are we going to have an opportunity like this? Most Kalronists will be in the same place at the same time.”

“Fair point, but we still have a lot of problems. How would we stop the real guests from arriving?”

“Send them a new invitation saying it’s in a new place due to fears of a revolution or something.”

“And how will we know who to send them to?”

“There must be a list somewhere. The Chancellor has a secretary that handles this.”

Jemerie cleared his throat. “Easier still, the Eri casdem i Treru is required to publish a front page article every year about the New Year’s Masquerade and how it symbolizes the prosperity Arvonne will experience in the upcoming year, or some drivel like that. Commres is sure to have several lists from previous years that we can cross-check. We may miss a few that were added this year, but we should get close to nine-tenths of the people attending.”

“Well, okay, but how would we get invitations and people there? It took six weeks to get everyone to gather for the Council.”

“That was the Council, a bunch of stuffy people who pulled power plays for several weeks so that they could say they had some input as to where the meeting took place.” Jemerie’s gaze lingered on Brevairn for a few moments. “Most live within a week’s ride from Eri Ranvel, at least half in the city itself.”

“And we can fill in with other people,” Brevairn said. “I know three dozen people off the top of my head who are loyal and would be more than happy to stand in for some Kalronists who just so happened to not show up.”

“Are we really discussing this?” Caudin said half to himself. “We’d have about three weeks to implement this plan. We have to get the Council, Brevairn’s group, and Corpresti and his guards on board as well as an additional force to arrest everyone who isn’t attending or is going to the other place. Oh, and we also need to feed false information to Aceril and Diansken to whisper back to the Kalronists about another plan.”

“They say to strike while the iron is hot,” Jemerie quipped.

Anla leaned over. “This does sound like your modus operandi. It couldn’t hurt to consider it.”

“True. All right then, let’s hash this out.”