“Kings are men who make mistakes, and then have others fix them.” Line attributed to Marteel, soldier of Tiberea (819 B. F. E.-808 B. F. E).

Morgwar rallied the rest of his troops before ordering everyone to march. Garassk and Rathorn were forced to move alongside Morgwar. Garassk was sure that everyone around him could hear his heart hammering against his ribs.

“So what exactly is going on here?” Rathorn asked Morgwar.

“Our king is dead,” Morgwar grunted. “And he has no heirs. So now it falls to the jarls to choose a new king. We’ve been at war for years now, and there are two likely candidates. Jarl Hrogvorth, and myself.”

“And Hrogvorth tried to have you killed under the pretense of a peace-talk,” Garassk asked. “And now we’re going to assassinate him?"

“Correct.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We siege the castle,” Morgwar snarled. “It’s small, and we can afford to hold it. And since he sent assassins, I doubt Hrogvorth will be expecting us.”

“Maybe not, but we weren’t planning on staying that long,” Garassk said.

“Then change your plans,” Morgwar growled. “I won’t lose my claim to the throne to lazy mercenaries.”

“Right,” Garassk said. “A siege it is. I love sieges. The best part of war, I always say.”

“You’ve never said that,” Rathorn grunted.

“Well I’m saying it right now,” Garassk replied.

It was easy enough to see the towers from a distance. As they got closer, they noticed armed men patrolling the area nearby.

“It seems that the jarl is prepared for a war,” Rathorn observed.

“Perhaps,” Morgwar said. “But only a fool wouldn’t have patrols out in this land.”

“Nevertheless, we’re going to need to do something about this,” Rathorn said.

“Is there anything we can use to our advantage?” Garassk asked.

“There might be a secret tunnel into the castle,” Morgwar said. “If we can slip in there, we can have a man inside while the rest of my men lay siege to the castle. They’re probably not expecting any bold action from us.”

“What do you mean might be?” Garassk asked.

“The castle has been abandoned for fifty years, and information about it is hard to come by. What’s more, nothing I’ve heard about the passage even says for sure that it’s real. It’s all guesswork.”

“Abandoned?” Garassk said, tilting his head. “Every answer raises more questions.”

“Fort Vorkash isn’t actually Hrogvorth’s castle by rights,” Morgwar explained. “We’re all just claiming whatever we can hold over a period of endless war.”

“Sure,” Garassk said. “But won’t he know about the passage?”

“Not likely,” Morgwar said. “He never had the patience to learn such things.”

“Good to know,” Garassk said.

“You’ll want to scout ahead before you go there,” Morgwar said. “Make sure no one sees you coming.”

“Back up. Who said I was going there?” Garassk said.

“It’s blocked off by music,” Morgwar growled. “And I heard your flute during the fight. You’re going.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“You need a musician?” Garassk asked, reaching for his flute. “Right. Good. I can help.”

“That’s the spirit,” Morgwar said, grinning so his tusks were bared.

“So where is this passage?” Garassk asked.

“Somewhere on the other side of the castle,” Morgwar said. “I want you to go with a scout and find it. Any other questions?”

“One more,” Garassk asked, despite Morgwar’s tone implying he didn’t want to hear it. “How do you know about all of this?”

“A combination of good scouts, spies, and access to historical records of the land,” Morgwar growled. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“Sounds good to me,” Garassk said. “Now about the flute…”

Morgwar shoved a sheet of paper into his hands.

“Play those notes. They’ll open the passage.”

“I guess that covers everything,” Garassk said.

“Good,” Morgwar snorted, turning towards his troops. “Now to find someone to scout with you. I lost most of mine in the attack, but we need a volunteer...”

“I can,” a voice called out, prompting Garassk to spin around. A brown-haired woman clad in a wool gambeson was standing behind him. She had a stern look on her face, and a few weapons attached to her belt.

“And you are?” Morgwar asked.

“Thora Kjartansdottir,” she said. “I know how to move unseen.”

“Kjartan… Very well,” Morgwar said. “Take this reptile around the perimeter. See if you can find the passage.”

“It will be done,” she said.

“How long have you been standing there?” Garassk asked, but Thora was already walking away.

“Try to keep up,” she called back. He got up and followed her, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

The two of them moved through a maze of trees, with the occasional scout moving close by. Whenever anyone came into view, they stopped moving and waited to see if they were spotted or not. Garassk’s hand never left his sword, for fear that he would need it in an instant. No one ever seemed to notice them.

When they found the time to hide a bit, Garassk took out some paper and one of his quills.

“What are you doing?” Thora hissed.

“Drawing a map,” Garassk whispered back. “You can take this back to Morgwar, and he’ll have a little more information to go off of.”

Thora’s face softened at the suggestion, but a hint of hardness lingered. She probably thought it would take too long.

“So what’s your story?” he asked, as he placed the paper on the nearest tree.

“What?”

“I like to know who I’m fighting alongside,” Garassk said, starting on a quick sketch.

“Very well,” Thora said. “My father was sworn to military service, and my mother taught me how to fight in case any invaders attacked our home when he was away.”

“Interesting,” Garassk said. “And you’re here now out of loyalty to your Jarl? I was raised in a militia like that so I get...”

“I’m here because the enemy soldiers attacked our home, so I want revenge. And then Morgwar burned the soldiers in my barn. For that I want compensation when this is over,” Thora said in an icy tone. Garassk paused for a moment to take in that information.

“Are the guards still there?” Garassk asked.

“No,” Thora said.

“Good, then we can keep moving,” Garassk said. He rolled up the paper and motioned for her to keep walking. They repeated the process several times. Garassk had managed to sketch a fairly detailed scene of soldiers. They eventually reached the back of the castle walls.

“Has it ever been specified exactly where this passage is?” Garassk asked.

“No,” Thora whispered. “Why?”

“Because we’re awfully close to the castle. It wouldn’t be a very good secret if it was that close now, would it?” Garassk asked.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Thora said. “We should move further out. It’s probably closer to the forest over there.”

They headed toward the trees, finding a small hole in the ground near a bent tree. A closer examination revealed a tunnel.

“Looks like what we’re looking for,” Garassk said.

“I hope so,” Thora said. “But there’s only one way to find out.”