The next morning, Torm woke up early and got dressed. His head was pounding from the many times he'd gone without sleep, and though he knew he would never be able to catch up on what he was missing now, a few hours' rest were something he badly needed. Once everyone was awake, they prepared to march out again. Everyone was excited. Everyone except Torm.

"Where are we going?" asked Pherris.

"You know, I'm really not sure," said Torm.

"I thought you had a plan."

Torm shrugged. "Something about making a lot of banners and marching forward."

"That sounds like a plan," laughed Pherris. "Well, let's get going then. We've wasted enough time."

And then he noticed something. "Wait," he said.

"What is it?" asked Pherris.

Torm pointed to the banners that hung from the city wall, all of which were pointing in the same direction. "What about these?"

It was true. They'd marched through the city and every banner was leading them back towards the castle. The banners weren't pointing at any of the farms or forests or roads they'd traveled down since leaving the city. They were all heading back to the castle.

Pherris frowned. "They aren't going home?"

"No."

"Why? Where are they going?"

Torm shook his head. "I don't know. What am I supposed to do? Make them go away?"

Pherris frowned. "How did you expect to defeat the emperor if you didn't even know where he was?"

"I can still attack his capital," said Torm. "He won't be expecting that. I bet the banners are just pointing us towards the city because he figures that's where we'll come. But once we're there, I can still attack his armies, either from the city or from the hills around it."

Pherris shook his head. "This isn't working, Torm."

Torm looked away and muttered, "I know."

"Look, this is what you wanted, right?"

Torm nodded. "Yeah. I guess it's not my fault he won't follow me."

Pherris looked over at him. "If you hadn't told me to make all of these banners..."

"Yes, fine. You were smart. Now let's go. If the banners were pointing back towards the castle, they wouldn't be leading us back towards it."

"Maybe they don't know where the castle is. Maybe they were trying to send reinforcements there and they couldn't, so they were trying to lead you back to help."

"There's another way to do that, Pherris. Send scouts or messengers. These banners are telling you exactly where we are, and where we're headed."

"But—"

"Just shut up and let's keep going," said Torm.

By noon, they had crossed into the mountains; by nightfall, they were camping outside of a small town that was mostly filled with refugees. The next day, Torm marched into the city, and by midmorning, he was standing before the castle gates.

And there, sitting beside a massive pile of letters and papers, was Torm's father.

After weeks of walking, the army finally reached the borderlands of Keshian territory—and they were greeted by a band of rebels.

Torm stood among the banners and watched as three men rode towards the camp where they'd set up their tents for the night. In the saddle behind them were six horses, each with a different color, so that they could tell them apart. The colors were white, red, blue, green, yellow, and black. The rebels rode up to one of the flags that marked the camp and halted. "What do we have here?" one of the riders called out from his horse.

A large man stepped from behind the banner. "A bunch of peasants," he said. "We don't need peasants and we definitely don't need soldiers. Keep moving."

"We want to talk to your leader," said the first rider.

Torm looked at the banners and counted. Five flags. One of them was the green flag with the symbol of the Dragonfly. He turned to Pherris and nodded. "Go. Find out who these rebels are and how many more we're going to have to fight."

Pherris nodded and went off to search. For several hours, he searched but found nothing. Then, at last, he returned. "Two flags," he said, and pointed at the two flags that marked the camp.

"Who?" asked Torm.

"The red flag with the black dragon. And the green one."

"What does it say on it?"

Pherris looked at the banner and read aloud. "Glad Tidings for the Poor and Hungry."

Torm looked at the banner and frowned.

Pherris continued. "It seems to be a charity organization. That's strange. There shouldn't be any poor people in the Borderland. They're all rich landowners."

"That's not what it says," said Torm. "And what did you find out about these rebels?"

Pherris shrugged. "They're not much. They're led by the Widow and her son." He paused, remembering what she had said. "Oh, and apparently, they're not actually part of the rebellion. They were just sent here by the emperor himself."

"Sent where?"

"To kill us."

The two rebel flags were both flying low now, and Pherris and Torm could see a crowd of civilians gathering before the flags. The widow and her son were standing before them, holding a speech.

"I am the widow of General Garen. My name is Elissa, and I am here to tell you that the empire is coming for you. It will arrive soon. We don't know why or from where. All we know is that it's coming for you, and it has no mercy in it at all. But we are here to give you hope."

She paused and looked at the crowd, but there were no cheers or shouts. She turned to her son and he raised his voice, so everyone could hear. "My name is Alric. I'm only fourteen years old, and I have a message from my father. A very important message for you. He told me to tell you this: 'Kill them, burn them, and bury them.' The emperor is coming for you. We want to tell you that there's nowhere to run, and nothing to hide behind anymore. So we must tell you that there's only one thing left for you to do."

And the boy held his head high and spoke to the sky.

"You must stand and fight!"

The crowd began roaring and cheering. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Fight them!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Fight them!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Fight them!"

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"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Fight them!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Fight them!"

Torm looked out over the crowd and saw that there weren't many banners. Most of them were flags used by the army, including one large banner that had the red dragon symbol painted over it, with the words "Kelvanse Army" written beneath.

"I wonder what happened to Kelvanis?" wondered Torm.

"There aren't any left," said Pherris.

"How can you tell?"

"That banner."

Torm looked at the banner and saw that it was the same symbol he'd seen on the flag of the rebels. When he looked back to the widow, he saw that the red dragon flag was waving.

"So, they've won," said Torm. "They beat us."

"Not yet," said Pherris. "But when the empire arrives, there will be nothing left of Kelvanath to protect."

In response to the cheers, Elissa shouted something to her son, then turned away from the flags and walked towards the wagon. "Let's get started," said the Widow as she waved the two guards aside and climbed into the wagon. She pulled the curtain shut and sat quietly in her seat, watching with an inscrutable expression, while the boy climbed onto the driver's seat of the wagon and the guards drove the wagon off through the streets.

After they rode for a few moments, Torm spoke to Pherris again. "Do you think she really thinks we're coming for her family? The way she said 'kill them, burn them, and bury them,' did she mean that we'll destroy her family to show our power?"

"No," said Pherris. "They're going to burn them alive."

And that was enough to let Torm know that all hope was lost. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And there were only two choices: die by fire or surrender to death at the hands of the empire.

By late afternoon on the third day, the Widow's wagon had reached the outskirts of the city. They were now driving down a wide boulevard, and the walls of the city rose up, towering above them, as if guarding against the threat of the empire. But there were no gates between the two, and the guards waved the wagon through the open gateway and it rolled onto the road that led into the heart of town. After passing some guardhouses manned by men in blue uniforms, the wagon began climbing steeply and soon they were looking down upon the city below.

As the wagon continued through the gates and into the city, Torm watched in awe as the buildings loomed high overhead, the towers and spires that crowned their roofs making them look like they were cut from steel, and all of it surrounded by the imposing wall. On either side of the street was a narrow stone pathway bordered on either side with trees that grew tall enough to provide shade. In a few places, they passed by small patches of grass, but these were rare, and even more rare were the benches and chairs along the path where people could sit and relax during warm days.

There wasn't nearly as much noise as there had been in the streets near the gate, not nearly as many people and animals walking around. Most of the people who walked the streets seemed to be merchants, and they moved quickly, always looking ahead, rarely making eye contact with anyone else, as if they were afraid someone would try to rob them. There was little traffic on the road, and once they crossed the first intersection and entered the market district, the wagon passed only a handful of other wagons, each going in the opposite direction.

"Where are all the soldiers?" asked Torm. "Why aren't they guarding the gates?"

"They're spread out around the city," said Pherris. "That's why they need so few guards. The main bulk of the army is stationed out on the plains south of the city, preparing for the next attack."

"Who would want to attack here?" asked Torm. "There's no real threat to Kelvanis. Why spend so many lives defending this place?"

"The capital is here," said Pherris. "We have to defend the capital, or the empire will overrun the empire."

"You don't seem too worried about that," said Torm. "If the empire has already won, why are you still fighting?"

"Because there's still hope," said Pherris with a grin. "Even if the empire wins, there's still the rest of Kelvanis. We can't just give up. Not now, and especially not for the likes of those who killed Kelvanis' last king."

The wagon continued down the main thoroughfare and finally, after many twists and turns, stopped before a large set of double doors that stood closed and barred across the street. The door was flanked by two guards wearing chain mail and carrying swords. Their helmets were pulled low and shadowed their features. As the wagon rolled by, they stared straight ahead at the stone pathway and didn't pay any attention to the wagon.

The doors opened on either side, and as the wagon rolled closer, they began to see the details of the interior.

The inside was huge, much bigger than it looked from outside. A long, wide marble staircase wound its way through the middle of the interior; to either side of the staircase were rows and rows of seats, each one facing the stairs and the throne on top. At the very back of the room was a raised platform that held two large thrones, the chairs of the emperor and the widow herself. Beyond them was another hallway that led toward the north end of the room. All around the throne in front of the stairs were pillars supporting the ceiling, each one carved with an ancient glyph that glowed bright white in the light of the torches.

As the wagon came to a stop, the driver hopped down, and Torm was helped down from his perch atop the back. "I'm sorry," he called out to the guards, "but the Widow requires my assistance inside."

Torm was glad to be rid of the weight and the constant rocking motion of the wagon. He looked forward to stretching his legs and walking on solid ground again, even if that meant having to deal with the stares of dozens of people. There was a long line of people waiting outside the double doors to pass through and head down to the courtyard below.

"What is the Widow up to?" whispered Torm. "She usually comes out to the courtyard when she arrives in the city, and then she rides straight to the barracks."

"She's trying to get a sense of what's going on around her," said Pherris, "and she wants to make sure she doesn't miss anything important while she's in charge of the whole empire."

"But we just came in. This isn't a very good time for her to get a feeling of how things are going in the city. Everyone knows she's here and they're going to be watching for her."

"Don't worry, Torm," said Pherris. "We won't stay out in the open long. We'll go down to the courtyard, say hello to the Widow, and then make our way back to the barracks unseen."

With that thought in mind, they both slipped into the line of citizens awaiting admittance to the palace and climbed up the stairs to the entrance. Torm and Pherris kept low to the ground and followed the line of people moving toward the throne area. They walked past the seats, where three young men sat, playing cards and gambling away their life savings in a game of dice. One wore armor made from a strange dark metal. Another was dressed in a red robe, and the third was wearing a purple tunic and black pants. They all had hoods pulled tight against the wind.

As soon as they came within view, the three card players rose from their chairs, put their hands together, and bowed their heads. "Wise and just ruler of the empire, your presence and glory are always welcome," said the man in the red robe.

"Thank you, gentlemen," said the woman on the far left. "It's wonderful to know I have such loyal citizens supporting me."

"Lady," said the knight wearing the dark armor, "your presence and favor are always welcome."

"It is an honor to see you, Lady," said the man wearing the black robes.

The woman smiled. "My apologies, gentlemen, but I've been told this morning that I should be getting to the bottom of this problem."

"Of course, Lady," said the knight in the red armor. "Let us take care of this immediately."

"I am grateful for your assistance, my friends," said the woman. "May we continue with our duties until then?"

"By all means, Lady," said the man in the red robe. "Your presence is always welcome, and we look forward to serving under you once again."

"Well met to you too, gentlemen," said the knight in the black robes.

The knights bowed and moved off down the hallway. The red-robed man moved in behind the widow and her guards, following them as they continued their march through the palace. When the group entered the throne room, the widow waved at the soldiers surrounding her and pointed to one of the thrones on the far side of the room.

"We've got to figure out who sent these assassins," said Torm to Pherris.

"Agreed," replied Pherris. "The widow's probably going to want to get some information out of whoever's responsible."

When the three knights reached the seat at the end of the line, one of them pulled open a velvet sack and removed a large golden crown. It was made from fine gold wire wrapped over a core of pure silver, and it was polished to a high shine. The widow leaned forward to put her hands on top of the arms of the chair and gave the crown a gentle toss toward the center of the room.

It spun through the air and landed near the foot of the throne, right next to the body of a corpse. In his hand, he held a knife, its blade covered with fresh blood.

"You have failed me, Lord Rufo," said the widow. "Again."

"I beg your forgiveness, my lady," said the knight in the red robe as he knelt beside the body. "The assassin used a special poison. We didn't have enough time to administer antidote before the poison took effect."

"So you killed him," said the Widow, "then waited until after he died to come clean."

"He tried to kill you, my lady," said the soldier wearing the dark armor. "And we were just doing our duty."

"I see," said the Widow. "A quick death by my own sword would have been better than this. A little bit messy, but it would have saved an awful lot of time."

"Lady," said the knight in the black robes. "We did everything we could."

She sighed. "I know. But, if you'll forgive my saying so, it wasn't nearly enough." She turned toward the three knights. "Well? What were the rest of you doing while this was taking place?"

"We're sorry, my lady," said the man in the black robes. "We were just sitting here, waiting for you to return."

"We were only sitting here," said the woman in the red robe. "The rest of us were looking out for trouble."

"Which is why we never saw any assassins until they threw that knife," said the knight in red.

"You didn't see anything before then?" asked the Widow.

"Nope," said the knight in the red robe. "Just us sitting over there."

"Why don't you sit over here," said the Widow. "We'll go talk to your friends. Maybe we can work something out. And, after that, I need you to find out who sent those men. If I'm going to keep living here, I'd like to know who's trying to kill me."

The knights bowed low. "We will do as you say, my lady."

They started to leave the room when the widow called them back. "Oh, and, uh…thanks. For not killing them."