The line of servants trailed into the Prince’s Residence.

Most of them were locals and had lived their entire lives next to the grand residence on the edges of the capital. They whispered eagerly to one another as they entered through the tall wooden gates.

All possible candidates had been forced to go through an extensive interview process.

But no one could blame them for being picky. It was rumored that after the Raven General had gotten rid of the castle maids, the Prince’s Residence was highly in need of more help.

However, for fear of aggravating the general, all of the servants were specifically picked with very odd specifications that had to do with unique features and certain quirks. Those who made it through the selection process were in luck. The hours were good and the pay was enough to keep them loyal.

As the group shuffled in, one lone servant hung at the back of the line. He stared at the walls of the residence for a good minute.

Catching sight of the straggler, one of the guards hollered, “You there! Keep up!”

The lone servant ducked their head and hurried forward.

The guard rolled their eyes as they watched the servants head in. He cataloged some of the familiar faces. The last group of the Lord of Feldgrau’s men were hidden within this batch. For the past few days, they had been using the guise of employing new help to subtly bring their own people in.

The guard glanced at a woman strolling around, just outside the gates. She wore a tattered cloak, its worn edges even dragged on the dirty streets, but her hair was pinned up with expensive, ornate clips. A castle worker, noted the guard, most likely within the inner circle of the queen herself.

It was the third time she had passed their street, all while trying to discreetly watch the servants head in.

The royal family needed to train better spies, the guard thought. He glanced back at his commander standing in the courtyard. As soon as the Lord had sent his message, calling them to him, the commander had pushed them to ride to the capital at breakneck speed.

Catching his gaze, Commander Darcy returned his questioning expression with a sharp nod. The eye uncovered by the dark patch glanced through the rows of people, dissecting each individual.

As soon as the straggling servant was in, the guard gestured for the others. His counterparts straightened and began to push.

Within seconds, the heavy gates to the Prince’s Residence echoed as they slammed shut.

—

Nikolai rubbed a hand over his brows. He adjusted the candle and then pushed it away. After sitting in the same spot for hours, his bones were starting to ache!

Despite Rewanna’s greatest wishes, Nikolai was not going to allow his distance from Feldgrau to diminish his lordship. Still, the strain was beginning to take a toll. The Lord of Feldgrau sighed. He missed his own study, so far away. It was only years of work and gathering steadfast loyalty that allowed Nikolai to still hold power over the region despite his absence. It was a strength and weakness that both his allies and enemies were aware of.

Rolling his tense shoulders, Nikolai cursed under his breath. General Langard was many years his senior yet Nikolai was beginning to feel a kinship with the old man. Nikolai shuddered at the thought. Maybe Cristin was right, he should get up and take a rest.

Pushing the papers away, he stretched. An unfinished trade agreement glared at him from its spot in his pile of documents. The Lord of Feldgrau’s fingers twitched.

A loud knock resonated through the room.

“Come in, Abby,” called Nikolai, he leaned forward to pick up the agreement.

The door creaked open. Silent footsteps crept in. There was silence.

That was not Abby, decided the lord. He glanced up. Surprise colored his face. “Bian?”

The quiet serving boy stood like a silent shadow by the door.

The trade agreement was set down.

Intrigued, Nikolai studied the boy. The lord knew relatively little about Bian… other than the fact that he and Faye had a bloodstained grudge that resulted in his muteness.

Abby cautioned him in sending the boy into the general’s path. But so far, Nikolai had not sensed any discontent from Bian. Nothing as strong as someone who lived in the same residence as their family’s executioner should have. Although he held some suspicions, Bian’s quiet but polite mannerisms and attention to detail had eased Nikolai of his worries.

There had been more than one late night when the boy had crept in carrying a nice mug of tea. Nikolai never requested it nor did he know how Bian knew of his whereabouts and sleeping habits… but it had become their silent routine.

Loathe as Nikolai was to admit it, if this was a ploy to lower his guard, the trick had worked.

Nikolai approached the silent boy. “What is wrong, Bian?”

The boy had a pack on his shoulder. A heavy cloak hung on his lean frame. He began to sign, but unfortunately, Nikolai could only understand the most basic of hand signals. Still, he understood the essence of it.

Nikolai frowned, “You are leaving?”

Bian nodded sharply. Although the boy was far from expressive, there was a tight pinch to his brows.

Suspicion reared its head but Nikolai suppressed the doubt for a moment.

“Frederick will miss you,” he commented. It was true. The other boy had practically glued himself to Bian’s side and the two had since become fast friends despite the smaller boy’s penchant for silence.

The lord crossed his arms. He coughed awkwardly and glanced out the windows. In the far end of the Prince’s Residence were Faye’s chambers.

“Bian,” Nikolai paused, considering how to phrase his next words. “Did you have a dispute with the Raven General?” A protectiveness rushed through him. “I am sure there is a misunderstanding. If I can help-“

Bian shook his head firmly. He raised three fingers and placed them over his chest.

Nikolai fell silent. This was a sign he knew.

Protect.

The lord frowned, “Protect from who, Bian? Is someone in danger?”

The boy strode forward and tapped on Nikolai. Once again, he placed the three fingers over his chest. Shocked, the lord did not have a chance to scold Bian for his forwardness.

“Me?” questioned Nikolai. “I am in danger?”

Bian raised his hands, interlacing his thumbs. He nodded towards the wall. Against the light of the candle, Bian’s hands made a shadowed image. It was the shape of a bird. He then nodded at the decorative sword hung on the wall. Nikolai’s frown deepened. A bird and a sword. “The Raven General?”

Blue eyes sharpened. The hair on the back of Nikolai’s neck rose. “I’m in danger from the Raven General?”

—

Rufus couldn’t stop the shaking of his hands. They trembled like he had some sort of sickness. The young lord glared at them, but the act did nothing in suppressing his fear. They continued to shake as he slid through the hall, trying to blend in with the candle-lit halls.

Today he was going to do something he had never done before. Rufus shuddered.

Enter his father’s private study… and go through his things.

Rufus gulped. The boy tiptoed forward. Ever since he was a child, his brothers had heralded him with stories of his father’s brutality on the battlefield. His bravery and willingness to personally execute traitors and spies. It was a surprisingly common dinner table topic for a family of generals and court officials.

Wetting his lips, Rufus froze. He was in front of his father’s study. This was it.

Considering his father’s rank in the kingdom, the general’s study was filled with national secrets and highly coveted battle plans. It was one of the reasons why so many guards were stationed at the General’s Residence.

From the slight crack of the door, Rufus watched his father’s shadow pacing the room. A dim candle sat on his study. Its wax dripped onto the table. In the cold night, the fireplace served as a backdrop to General Langard’s muttering. In the back of his mind, Rufus wondered what had his father so stressed.

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Swallowing hard, Rufus steeled himself to enter but found that he was stuck in place. His body refused to obey his mind. Fear stayed his hand as he stood frozen in the hallway… like an idiot.

Suddenly, Rufus saw his father approach the candle. In his hands were a stack of letters. Lifting the pile over the candle, the general held the papers to the fire, watching them burn.

Rufus’ heart was in his throat! What if those were the papers he was searching for?

“Father!” Rufus slapped a wide grin on his face.

General Langard’s head snapped up. He pulled the papers away from the fire, blew out the small flame, and set the letters in his drawer.

Rufus braced himself as his father made his way to the door.

Seeing his youngest son, General Langard sighed, “What is it, Rufus? I was in-“

“Mother has called for you,” lied Rufus. “It… she said it was urgent?”

Old Langard raised an incredulous eyebrow. “And she sent you to fetch me? Not a servant?”

Rufus shrugged helplessly, but before he could come up with an excuse, his father shook his head. “She must have wanted to get you out of your room.” General Langard shot his son a long look. “How long do you plan to waste away before making something of yourself, Rufus?”

Trying for a sheepish smile, Rufus could only laugh awkwardly. “Father, it’s not that I want to-“

General Langard’s frown hardened. “What is it that we have not given you, Rufus? I do not ask you to be your elder brothers but to just make something of yourself.” The father gripped his youngest son by the shoulders.

Rufus tensed but his little bit of pride prevented him from slipping away. He was so close to his goal!

“Every day at court I hear of the new courtesan you are pursuing or your mother’s hiring of new teachers. ” General Langard looked physically pained. “It is my fault, I know. You were too young when I went away to war, and when I returned, you were practically half-grown.”

Rufus stiffened at the tender look on his father’s face. It was a sight he had never seen before. He tensed as his father lifted a hand to caress his face.

Rufus swallowed hard. “It is not your fault, father. But mine,” he croaked. His eyes stung. He backed away from the hold. “I am sorry I cannot be a son that you are proud of. I am not my brothers.” He laughed harshly. “I am not even good enough to beat stupid Asinoro Vellward.”

General Langard’s eyes were soft. “All I ask is that you become a man that you are proud of. Nothing more or less.”

A sudden stream of anger rushed through the young man.

Liar Rufus wanted to scream. His father spoke gentle words but not the truth. He was a legendary general in need of legendary sons. Unlike his talented older brothers who were taught personally by General Langard, Rufus had been taught by tutors all his life.

When his father returned from the war front, Rufus had been delighted. Growing up in the residence with his mother and the servants, he had dreamed of the day his father would teach him to wield a sword or play a game of chess. Unfortunately for both of them, General Langard was a man accustomed to being surrounded by the extremely talented.

In the few sessions they had had, father and son both quickly learned that the former had neither the patience nor time to teach someone so ungifted in… everything.

Rufus could still remember when his father had patted his back and walked away for the last time. It had been an afternoon of failed target practice. Not a single arrow had hit the target much less the center bullseye. Rufus’ father had urged him to stop, promising to resume again the next morning.

Desperate to please his father, Rufus practiced the entire night till daybreak. His fingers had bled but he did not stop until he could finally hit the target.

But when morning came, General Langard had been called away to a meeting. Furious at the broken promise, Rufus stormed in and interrupted the council of generals and commanders. To his parent’s horror, the young Rufus had demanded that his father watch his improvement. In good nature, the hall of great men gathered to watch with Langard as his son let loose his arrow. True to his practice, Rufus’ arrow hit the target. He turned in delight to face his father.

However, all he found was the group of war generals laughing at the fact Rufus had missed the bullseye completely. They teased General Langard whose face had filled with shame.

Lowering his bow, Rufus had called out to his father… only to watch as the man turned his back and headed back to his war room without a single word.

Needless to say, Rufus never discussed archery, or any other matter truly, with his father again.

Pulled back to the present, Rufus chided himself for the lapse in control. He had not thought of the target incident in years. He had no idea where such a memory had sprung from.

Stepping back again, Rufus regarded his father with a bright smile. It was the same one he shot his infuriated tutors and mocking peers. Do you really want to waste time on a fool, his smile seemed to question. “But Father I am proud! A proud man of love!” Rufus grasped his chest dramatically.

The soft look on General Langard’s face faded into one of resignation. But through the years, Rufus’ naturally thick skin had only grown thicker.

Rufus crossed his arms. “Mother sounded quite urgent,” he offered. Stretching his arms up, Rufus forced a yawn. “And I feel a need to return to my bed to dream of beautiful maidens, Father. So, if you could-“

“How did I end up with a son like you.” Stomping followed as General Langard stormed down the hall, muttering the entire way.

Rufus paused. As soon as his father turned down the other corridor, he heaved a sigh of relief and clutched his chest. “I thought he would never leave!”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Rufus hurried into the room. He pulled open the drawers and took out the letters. The corners were singed and the room smelt faintly of burnt paper.

The letter on the top must have been the one that had his father in such turmoil, Rufus guessed. The letter read:

“Friend, the Grasslands suspect our partnership. A raven is on our tail, destroy all evidence that may lead them to our secrets.”

Rufus’ eyes narrowed. This is exactly what the Raven General was looking for. His eyes scanned down to the sender. They widened. The letter was signed as Rufus Langard!

The boy gaped. But he had never sent such letters! Frantically, he began to scan through the different letters. There were different code words. Most of the short messages made no sense to him. The color drained from his face. Every single letter was signed under Rufus’ own name.

From outside the hall came the sound of approaching footsteps. Rufus plucked a few of the letters from the center of the pile. The young lord stuffed them into his pockets. Hearing the footsteps and voices growing closer, he readjusted the pile so that the first letter was back on top.

Pulling open the drawer, he returned the pile to its original place and slid out of his father’s study. He could only freeze in place as he heard the footsteps come around the corner.

Rufus prayed that they would not question him.

As they turned the corner, the two guards stared at Rufus Langard standing in front of General Langard’s study, staring intently at the closed door. They glanced at one another and slowly approached the boy.

“Uh, young master?” The first tapped the young lord’s shoulder.

“Dear gods!” Rufus sprung around, face pale as a ghost. “By the gods, my father should attach bells to you! Why do you walk so silently?”

The guards stared questioningly at one another. Surely with their heavy armor and conversation, the two could be heard from quite a distance away. Still, they refrained from commenting. It was common knowledge that the youngest Langard was quite peculiar… and not exactly the brightest.

“Young master, are you waiting for your father?” questioned the second guard.

Rufus flushed and crossed his arms. “Why of course! Why else would I be standing in front of his study? Do you think I like waiting around like an idiot?”

Again, the guards politely refrained from commenting. Still, the first was kind enough to mention, “But your father is in a meeting with your mother right now, young lord.”

The boy’s face flushed even further. He threw his hands up in the air and growled in frustration. “Why does no one tell me of these things! Gods, it’s annoying! So! Stupid!” Yelling and kicking (horribly) at the walls and decorations in the hall, Rufus Langard found his own way out. “Everyone just takes me for a fool! I’ve been standing for half an hour and he wasn’t even there! I can’t believe this!”

The howling faded as he disappeared around the corner, presumably to go simmer in embarrassment in his room.

The two guards shot one other a pitying look. To have such a son…Poor General Langard.

—

It was too late to be morning but too early to be night. In the hours before dusk, a lone figure wandered the great walls of the Prince’s Residence. They carried a bucket of dirty water. It was the straggling servant from the morning.

After dumping the bucket’s contents, they approached one of the stones in the wall. The servant pulled the false rock out. Sticking their hand into the wall, the man pulled out twin blades.

The assassin smiled down at his weapons. His target was supposed to be long dead by now, but who would have known that the Prince’s Residence would be so hard to infiltrate? The smile twisted into an ugly frown. The lord’s security had been surprisingly good and after the Raven General had dismissed so many of their staff, only the steadfast and loyal ones remained, making them impenetrable to bribes. The dual-bladed assassin had had to move his family into hiding for fear that his employer would take their lives for the incomplete job.

The assassin stared at the Prince’s Residence. He had been lucky. An interviewee whose background had been cleared had to return to the countryside to take care of his ailing mother. A sob story and enough money to buy adequate medicine were enough for the young servant to give his certifications over to the assassin. Once in the system, it was easy enough to get in.

With a sigh, the assassin stuck his dual blades back into the wall. Hefting the false rocks up, he placed them back into position.

Soon, when the time was right, his blades would be ready to strike.

Unfortunately, tonight was not the night.

The fake servant picked his bucket back up and headed in towards the servant’s quarters. Soon, he chided himself. Soon.

—

In the streets, the commoners were busy preparing decorations of lanterns and ribbons. If one were to walk down the street they would be in awe at the ornate silk strings hanging from every corner.

Couples walking together blushed rosily at the upcoming holiday.

The merchants were extremely happy as they convinced lovesick teenagers to purchase the perfect gift for the Festival of Lantern: the ultimate celebration of love.

Unlike the festivities of Morning Day, the Festival of Lanterns was known as the commoners’ celebration. The castle and nobles had their ways of showing off but rarely were there large banquets or lavish parties. Some of the nobility even scoffed at the notion. What use was a celebration of found love for a group of people that based their marriages on political interest? Sweet romantic love was left for the regular folk and a very lucky few.

Regardless, despite its dismissal, appearance still had to be made. The Prince’s Residence sent their new servants out on errands and Abby gave the younger ones extra coin to splurge on the delights available only at the time of the Festival.

More than a few couples bought painted lanterns, daydreaming about the last day of the festival when they would release it together in the main streets of the capital.

Deep in the kitchen of the Prince’s Residence, a loud scream echoed through the halls. The haunting sound echoed through the entire city.