Ean sneaked into Fortside, the hamlet in the center of South Brindle. As he drew closer, he noticed that the settlement was little more than a tavern and a few shops, all of which catered to the soldiers of the nearby training camp. There was no park or other common area, giving the town an uninviting feel.

To Ean's surprise, the army training camp was much larger than it appeared from Argonia East. It had been expanded well beyond its original boundaries, now stretching north to south and taking up the entire eastern edge of the region. The camp was bustling with activity, even this late in the day. The sounds of clanging metal and soldiers marching created a non-stop background noise.

Ean entered the tavern, hoping to find some good food and an opportunity to relax. The tavern was dark and smoky from a defective gas lamp. A rough-looking crowd of soldiers were inside, blowing off steam after a day of training.

The soldiers resembled those in Argonia. He knew many of them were also farmers. Those shared traits did little to settle his nerves. He was an infiltrator from the country they were training to fight.

"What are you drinking?" the tavern owner asked.

"I'm on duty so a glass of water," Ean said. "I'm a Postal Inspector. Can I ask you some questions?"

The tavern owner let out an exaggerated sigh. "I can spare you about two minutes. Make it quick."

"I'm trying to determine if I need to increase postal pick up and drop offs," Ean said. "Are there always this many soldiers here?"

The tavern owner shrugged. "Normally, it's only like this twice a year. The rest of the year we only see the soldiers permanently garrisoned at the training camp."

"You said 'normally'," Ean pressed, sensing there was more.

"A third group started training recently without any prior notice."

"Regular military or reservists?"

"Couldn't tell ya what type of unit they are," the tavern owner said. "They're all just thirsty soldiers to me. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to work."

Ean ordered a meal and sat at a table in the corner. As he ate, he listened to the raucous laughter and conversations of the drunken soldiers.

"I'm telling you, I used to be able to hit a running man from 100 paces," the first soldier boasted. "It's these new bows. Something different about them."

"That's nonsense," the second soldier scoffed. "YOU couldn't hit a man standing still at 100 paces with the old bows. I like the new bows. You just aren't strong enough to use them."

"A bow is a coward's weapon," the third soldier interjected. "It's all about getting in close and using your sword."

"That's right," the first soldier agreed. "With these new swords, I bet I could take on a dozen men at once."

Ean listened intently to the conversation between the three soldiers, their voices growing louder as they bantered back and forth.

"I could," said the third soldier confidently. "You would be lucky to take on a dozen old women. Which is why I will get assigned to train with the secret army up North."

The second soldier scoffed, "I'd wager both of you would take a serious beating from one Argonian soldier. Neither of you are going to be picked for the secret army. Only elite soldiers are being chosen for it. We'll be sent back to our farms without seeing any action."

LOG ENTRY UPDATED: Rumors - South Brindle

The first soldier bristled at this comment. "Then we should find some Argonians to fight before we do. I'll show you who's the better fighter."

With a smirk, the third soldier stated, "I'd like to see that. We can cross the river and tell them you said you can take on a dozen of their best." He stared at the first soldier, waiting for a response. "That's what I thought. Which one of you two 'warriors' is going to cover my bar tab?"

The soldiers squabbled over whose turn it was to pay. Ean had watched his father and uncle get drunk enough times to know when a fight was brewing. Staying much longer might turn him into an outsider to fight or an unlucky bystander when the soldiers turned on each other. He swallowed the last of his food and paid for an upstairs room.

* * *

Ean reclined on the bed, striving to forget he was mere steps from hundreds of hostile soldiers. He flipped open his questbook, scanning the notes from his time in South Brindle. It contained many questions and few answers.

"Who is this Man in the Purple Hat?" Ean wondered aloud. "And what does he have to do with the death of my former master and Brindle's spymaster?"

As unsettling as those questions were, they paled in comparison to the weight of the questions asked of him by the king.

The soldiers' conversation had confirmed Ean's suspicions. He needed to inform the king that Brindle's entire military had been mobilized and was actively preparing for war.

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He also knew he would do the king a disservice if he returned to Argonia now. The rumors of a secret army being assembled in North Brindle demanded investigation. His first step would be to make contact with his local spy to focus their activities here.

He retrieved a damp parchment sheet from his pouch, fanning it until dry. Then he used his Polybius Square skill to encode a message asking for confirmation that Brindle was forming a secret army and if they knew what would happen in two weeks.

QFK: Using the Polybius Square cipher Activity page ( available at www.neuralsplyce.com/freestuff ), encrypt a message to the spy:

Is Brindle training a secret army What happens in two weeks

Secret_Message-07 added to Inventory

QUEST ACCEPTED: Q-023 Deliver Secret_Message-07 to dead drop in South Brindle.

SKILL UPGRADED: Polybius Square cipher +1 (2/3)

Ean then checked the sketch of dead drops he'd copied from the maps in his master's office. It listed a room in the inn.

He folded up the message until it was little more than a sliver of paper and tucked it into his waistband. The message would be safe from a cursory search if here were stopped for questioning. Pausing at the door, he held his breath, straining to hear any sounds from the hallway. Silence.

Ean eased the door open. His nerves were on high alert, so every creak made him flinch. He crept down the empty hall, looking for room 21 listed as the dead drop location. Ean turned right and walked to the end of the hallway.

The room numbers stopped at 20.

Perhaps it's a hidden room behind the wall?

He ran his fingers over the wall but found no signs of a hidden doorway. He pulled on the lamp sconce and experienced a tinge of disappointment it was not a secret switch mechanism.

Ean doubled back and checked room 12—in case there'd been a transposition error in the notes. Room 12 was a regular room, currently occupied by a family of four. Embarrassed at disturbing them, he quickly retreated.

He returned to the bar and approached the barkeep. The man pretended not to see him before finally glancing up, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

Noticing Ean wasn't getting the hint to go away, the barkeep barked, "What do you want, water drinker?"

"A buddy of mine asked me to join him in room 21, but I'm so turned around I can't find it."

The barkeep looked both ways, pulled out keys and unlocked a door behind him. He scanned the room again before whispering, "Follow me," and urging Ean inside the storeroom.

Ean ducked between two barrels in the small storeroom while the barkeep pushed a crate aside to reveal a door in the floor. "He's downstairs. Make it quick before my absence is noticed."

The confined space worried him, but he dismissed his concerns. It made sense to have a hidden room here than in a hallway where it might be discovered. As Ean bent over to lift open the door, the lock on the door behind them clicked shut. Before he could react, the bartender grabbed him from behind and held a dagger to his throat. He had never been so scared in his life.

He'd been in the presence of hostile guards, nearly drowned, and surrounded by thieving militia. The threat of dying had been present, but this was the first time he was certain his life was about to end.

The barkeep pressed his face to Ean's ear and growled, "Think carefully about how you answer this question. Who do you work for?"

Ean's heart pounded as the cold steel pressed against his throat. His mind raced through his options. The obvious answer to maintain his cover would be Emperor Stormfist. If the barkeep thought for a second that Ean worked for the emperor, he wouldn't have dared to pull a dagger on him.

That left Ean with two choices - claim to work for the mysterious Man in the Purple Hat or reveal his allegiance to the King of Argonia. He considered saying he served the Purple Hat, assuming this violent bartender was associated with the militia. But then he remembered the two-headed medallion, still tucked away in his room. He couldn't produce it as proof.

As the dagger dug into his skin, Ean calculated he had maybe a fifty-fifty chance of surviving if he picked the wrong answer. His palms grew sweaty as indecision gripped him. Should he gamble on the truth and risk everything? Or try another lie, and likely meet his end on the blade's edge?

He racked his brain for a cover story or explanation. Then he recalled his previous failed attempts at deception. Lila and Aria who pretended not to know when he stretched the truth. The innkeeper in West Brindle who realized he was Argonian. The soldiers in Argonia East who knew he wasn't a game warden. The same with his father. Everyone always managed to see through his lies and deceptions.

The bartender growled menacingly. "Last chance. Who do you work for?"

He was going to die and nothing he could say or do was going to change that. In an instant, his fear evaporated, and a sublime peace filled him. The only thought he had now was a wish that Aria would find someone new and live a long, happy life.

Ean opened his mouth, his next words poised to seal his fate one way or another. He prayed he chose correctly.

He stood erect, being mindful of the dagger. "I serve the king."

The blade's edge grazed his throat. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

The barkeep withdrew the dagger.

"My business partner and I heard the spymaster in Argonia died," said the barkeep. "We're your spies in South Brindle and we've been waiting to hear from you."

"It's been a rough couple of weeks," Ean said as he rubbed his throat. "What are you hearing about a coming war between our two countries?"

"As you've heard, the Brindle military is spending large sums of money to re-equip and train their soldiers."

"And the secret army training in North Brindle?"

"The soldiers started talking about that two days ago," the barkeep replied. "Then yesterday, we heard the Emperor's Spymaster was killed. My business partner headed to the capital to purchase more food and alcohol for the soldiers. His quest was to learn more about the army and the spymaster's death during his stay. He should have returned by now, which has me worried he was captured or killed. I thought maybe you were an assassin sent to kill me too."

"I can assure you I'm not an assassin," said Ean. "You're right to be worried. Some man in a purple hat appears to be behind multiple attacks on spies. I ran into local militia outside of town working for this man. They let me go after I convinced them I do as well."

"Outside of town? You don't think they might have found my partner do you?"

"Even if they don't know who he is, this group wouldn't let a cart full of alcohol and food go 'untaxed'. I have business in North Brindle anyway. Where would I find your partner if he's still in the capital?"

The barkeep considered this for a moment. "We have a childhood friend at the Old Oak tavern. If he felt he was in danger, that's where he'd hide out."

"How can I identify myself as a friend, so I don't end up with another dagger at my throat?"

"Tell them that 'stew you can't eat with a fork is soup.' Long-standing joke between the three of us."

"Thank you. I will get some sleep and leave before dawn. Hopefully, your friend shows up before then."

QUEST FAILED: Q-023 Deliver Secret_Message-07 to dead drop in South Brindle

QUEST ACCEPTED: Q-024 Re-establish contact with the spy in North Brindle

SIDE QUEST ACCEPTED: SQ-06 Locate missing spy from South Brindle