I was back at the safe house, no longer having to hide away from myself and the others since the cat was out of the bag. I was back to being blind again. I didn’t know what I was getting up to while my past self was playing catch-up with the warehouse problem.

My mind was in two very different places. I sat by the window and watched the world go by, considering all of the information that we possessed and what our next move would have to be. Sloan was the biggest threat in my eyes. He was the one who wanted Genta to help him summon more demons from the Veil so he could build an army of mutant soldiers. Nothing good could come of meddling with that place, and how he was in control of the operation.

I would have preferred to sever every head of the hydra in rapid succession. That kind of convenient solution did not present itself to us though. We consistently ran the risk of having someone else take over when Welt died, and now that problem was fully realized.

But I had no leads to go on, no locations or people to press for information.

I spent the next two days sitting and contemplating what was happening. Not just on a micro scale, but on a macro one too. All of these games that Durandia was playing with me, and how I sat there and took the hits, playing my part like a good little soldier. I was an empty-headed mass that accepted whatever bullshit was poured into it. A black hole.

I always broke out into these small depressive episodes when I had nothing to do. I’d fiddle with my fingers and stare into space, giving myself enough time to rue my past choices. I could have been a normal, respectable guy, but that wasn’t the path I chose. It wasn’t good enough for me and my pride.

When I gained the luxury of choosing which jobs to take I refocused on picking off the real bad dudes. The ones who killed, trafficked, extorted and violated. The definition of dogshit given human form. Still – polite society liked to imagine softer, more gentle solutions than infiltrating a drug-fuelled orgy and pumping a 9mm round through their skull.

I used to feel the same. I felt guilt about it for years, but a sense of nihilism was nurtured in me through my experiences. Laws and moral standards were just a load of crap that people used to make their abuses acceptable. Murdering someone with a weapon was bad form but killing thousands by passing a piece of malicious legislation was just fine.

Perhaps it was easiest to describe it as seeing myself as ‘exceptional.’

Not everyone had the nerve to kill a man, and most still wanted to believe that the polite, civil way of handling problems was the best. I wanted to be the scalpel, excising the rot before it could spread and cause even more damage. Get in early before they could sink their hooks into the institutions and bodies that were meant to protect people.

The means informed the outcome. It sounded like I was a lunatic thinking that after proclaiming my love of killing people - but that was my honest opinion. If someone wanted a nice, neatly wrapped conclusion, then they would have to come up with a methodology that ensured it came to be. There was a clean way to end a life.

Not everyone needed to be a violent avenger with a gun and no moral qualms. I needed to be ‘exceptional’ because the view from below made it obvious that there was a value to their naiveite. I didn’t place my trust in rules and systems. I could only trust what I did for myself.

I couldn’t sit around and waste time with a threat looming on the horizon. Finding out where Sloan was and putting an end to him and his schemes would be our first priority. The death of Welt would lead to significant changes behind the scenes, and potentially alter their strategy moving forwards.

Welt had intentionally avoided doing overly inflammatory things during the takeover. Sloan did not have the same restraint. He was going to kill as many people as it took to consolidate their power over the country – and I suspected that the former King and his family would be in the crosshairs too. It was surprising to know that he was still alive.

It was high time that I started to throw my weight around. I had to put myself in the right place at the wrong time, preferably with a solid idea of when and where that was supposed to be. Micah was a bust after compromising Jones, and I wouldn’t be able to get close to him again anyway.

My other options were Jonas Rentree and Jerimiah Vincent. There were the big men on the board responsible for influence peddling. Franklin was wise to some of the rumours about them. Jonas in particular had been making an aggressive push to secure support from the noble class for a restoration of the old guard.

That was likely predicated on any revolution at home not biting into the productivity of their businesses. Rentree would have a lot of work to do once Sloan turned up the heat and started killing protesters in the street. That was bad for business. They wanted all of the benefits of a deregulated monarchist state with none of the risks.

The sound of feet moving across groaning wooden floorboards snapped me back to reality. I turned in my seat and spotted Frankfort leaning against the door. Frankfort was still an enigma to me. We had barely spoken at all.

“Hello Frankfort. Can I help you with something?”

She gave me a wry smile; “A lot, actually – although there’s little time to see all of our problems tidied away.”

A confident step across the threshold of the loft declared her intent to have a proper discussion with me about what was going on.

“That watch is an interesting trick. I wish I had one of those when I was still active in the field.”

“It’s not as helpful as you’d think given the limitations. We don’t have a good way to charge it again. All of the blood we stole from the tower has dried up. It’ll take years to be usable now. Is there a reason you want to speak with me?”

“Do I need a reason? I’m curious. Veronica and I-”

“Gwyneth. If you want to have a heart-to-heart, at least use her real name.”

“She has been Veronica Gladwell for longer than she’s been Gwyneth Gladwell, I can assure you of that. I’d argue that the pseudonym has subsumed her real moniker. That’s how devoted we are to the job.”

What a tired cliché...

“And what did you both get for years of tireless public service? A gun pointed to your back and a summary dismissal from your posts. I would have thought that having the organization turned against you so easily would give you pause.”

“There’s no time for that. I believe that WISA can be a force for good, but unfortunately that kind of power appeals to opportunists like Bernard Jones. I wanted to thank you for stepping in and saving my life. That mage was moments away from shattering every bone in my body.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Consider it repayment for staying in the fight despite everything that’s happened.”

Frankfort sighed, “It’s only natural that I stay to try and stem the bleeding. I can’t enjoy any potential retirement if these nobles are trying to burn down the country. Ultimately, stability is the one thing everyone desires – even if they won’t admit it.”

The burgeoning anarchist movement would like to have a word with her, but I refrained from delving deep into political and moral arguments over what people really wanted. She was merely expressing her own opinion on the matter.

“You’re so much like your Mother. It’s like looking into a mirror, and how profound it is given that you’ve never so much as seen an image of her face. It must be the work of those ‘genes’ that the university types keep talking about.”

But all of that was merely coincidence. I was already a full formed personality before being brought here. I wasn’t truly a result of genetics or socialisation. I was an individual transplanted into a new body who happened to have many resemblances to Gwyneth. Durandia must have been influenced by her when coming up with the plan.

“But... I suppose that is meaningless. I heard what the others were saying.”

“You believe all of that?”

“I was never the religious sort – but there is a small part of my mind that is willing to accept a higher power meddling in our affairs. I feel bad for Veronica. She fought so hard for so long to make a better Walser for your sake, yet now she isn’t permitted to see the result of her effort. To be blunt, it appears you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.”

“I won’t pretend it’s a fair outcome for either of us. She wants to blame me, or take it out on Durandia, but you can’t throw punches at a being that does not possess a physical body to harm.”

Frankfort’s eyes sharpened, “How does this end for us?”

“She brought me here because she’s convinced that we’ll save the world in the end. Take whatever confidence you will from that. As for whether we all survive that process – I don’t know.”

“That’s unusually bleak from you. I always received the impression you were going to fight, and claw, and bite until you got your way.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’m afraid that isn’t my choice to make. Durandia knows everything that will happen from now until the end. I’m still going to fight, but if she wants me to die she will arrange for that to happen.”

Frankfort looked to the ground and remained silent for a minute while she gathered her thoughts. This was out of her field of expertise. She was used to dealing in harsh realities rooted in the real, the physical. Durandia was not. She was a being of emotion and energy – who paradoxically focused on the outcomes rather than the means used to achieve them.

Now she was forced to tangle with someone being brought from another world, and a deity who could see into the future and had planned the entire series of events from decades in the past. It was enough to make her feel helpless. Did any of her choices really matter in the face of that?

This was what Xenia chafed against. For all of their high-minded aspirations of letting free will play out as it was, the mere existence of the Red Tree made that impossible. They could reach down and tweak the smallest details, and completely derail the path of history. Xenia believed that shutting the system down was for the best because of this.

On the other hand – if that led to the destruction of an entire world, would they be willing to bare that burden? Once the Red Tree was constructed it was not so simple to shut down and never think about again. It could be a tool for tremendous good. Was a small handful of people’s free will worth protecting over billions of individual lives?

I erred on Durandia’s side of the debate. Xenia was being too idealistic. Durandia was being the morally upright party in the debate. She was compromising on her principles to protect lives. Gwyneth did not see things the same way that I did. She was taking the more expected route, seething with resentment that this ‘game’ had robbed her of her daughter.

“Okay, this is not an entirely social visit. I take it that you have nothing on your plate with Welt dead and the warehouses torched?” she asked.

“No. I don’t know what to do next. Something is going to keep me occupied though.”

Because I wasn’t around to stop the shooting in the plaza, not that diving headfirst into that situation was a good idea in the first place. It would just lead to more people being killed in the confusion.

“I do have something to say about that. Veronica and I have still been independently reaching out to our intelligence-gathering friends. Gossip mongers who work outside of WISA.”

“Criminals?”

“Some of them. Others are trusted insiders in communities and institutions that would be difficult to crack open with a court order. They have ears close to the ground, and you would be surprised at how familiar with influential people they can get. One of them has come through with an interesting report.”

She handed me a beige folder. I peeled it open and was met with what appeared to be a hand-written copy of a staff rota. Two dozen names were listed, along with times, places and additional notes in the right column.

“What’s this?”

“Thersyn Van Walser, the previous King, was not killed when Welt deposed him. Welt believed that murdering him would inflame tensions beyond what was reasonable, and letting his foes hope that he could be restored to the throne would keep them from moving too quickly.”

“I already knew that.”

Frankfort nodded, “Easy enough to deduce. Now that Welt is gone, there have been rumours that the coup forces are not going to lie idly by and allow that to continue. Security at his palace has been tightened significantly, and it was already the most fortified residence on the continent. There are guns in every window and battlement and those on reserve have been summoned to serve extra shifts.”

It sounded like an obvious next step for Sloan. He wasn’t a light touch by any stretch of the imagination, and throwing a metaphorical grenade into the fire was the kind of idiocy that he’d go along with. I still didn’t have a good read on why he was doing any of this though. Genta insisted he was a glory hound who didn’t care for the ethical considerations that came with research, but if that was all he would have packed up and ran the moment Welt bit the dust.

No, this was more than that. He was taking charge.

“Do you propose that we step in and make sure he lives to regain the throne?”

“Ekkehard isn’t winning any fans. I’ll state it plainly – having Thersyn back would do wonders for getting the situation under control. He’s a steady hand who is interested in keeping the peace.”

But what could we do that the army of armed guards couldn’t? There was a myriad of problems involved with us gaining access to the estate, even if we could somehow pinpoint the moment when this plan to assassinate him came to pass. I suspected that it would not take the form of an assault on the estate. They would look to find a sympathizer amongst the entourage or insert someone into it who could then gain direct access to Thersyn. If it was a suicide mission for that person then all it would take was a single opportune moment to kill him and scupper our plans.

I could hardly pull on my connection with Theodore Van Walser to get into the palace either. What possible justification could I provide for visiting under these circumstances? We hardly knew one another beyond a few brief conversations at the academy. It would have to be a matter that the royal family found pressing enough to supplant concerns about letting others into the building.

“Are you absolutely sure that we should step in here?” I asked again, “Part of me wants to focus all of our energy on tracking down Sloan and the rest to end this plot before it can get that far.”

“I can’t force you to, but these are the kinds of decisions that we had to make every day at WISA. Was it better to cut the threat off at the source? Did we have the time and manpower to fight fires if they happened?”

I picked at my nails and considered it. I didn’t have a job to do while I waited for my past self to catch up, and I was clearly keeping myself busy once Welt was dead somehow. It begged to reason that this was what occupied my time in the days that followed his death.

“I can think of one way to get an invitation to the palace, although I’m uncertain of when the best time would be to play that particular card.”

Frankfort leaned closer, “What is it?”

“The royal family loves political marriages. If I were to, hypothetically speaking, forward my interest in marrying one of the un-landed sons in the family – they would surely invite me to the palace to arrange a marriage interview.”

“Would they be willing to do that?”

“Oh yes. The ones who aren’t in the direct line of succession for the throne are always bucking and braying, looking for an easy way to get a leg up on the competition. They don’t have political interests like the main branch does. They want money and a trophy wife to show off at those droll parties they enjoy throwing every week.”

I had resisted using my ‘feminine charms’ since arriving in Walser. Durandia may have made me comfortable with the body swap – but that was an adjustment demanded by circumstance. I couldn’t help her out if I was enduring a dysphoric meltdown after all. Everything else was left as it was before I died.

Debasing myself by trying to win the heart of a man was not my idea of a good time.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. I would only get one shot at this. I could express some interest and see if any of those un-landed family members bit the hook and asked for a marriage interview. I was not obligated to agree to it once I was there.

I would have to get Franklin to drop by and pick up the letter to post to the palace. My father would probably rubberstamp whatever came across his desk if it came to that, but I believed that they wouldn’t vet the validity of the note if it had the right wax seal on the envelope.

“Can you find a more precise window of opportunity for us? I can’t justify staying on the grounds for several days even if they do accept my deceptive request for a marriage interview.”

Frankfort nodded; “I’ll try. I’m good, but I’m no miracle worker.”

----------------------------------------

“Prince Theodore! Prince Theodore!”

Theodore Van Walser stopped in place and spun around to face his pursuer. A young attendant was chasing after him with a letter clutched in one hand and a tray of refreshments in the other.

“What is it?”

“We’ve just received a rather urgent letter. It seems that Lady Walston-Carter is seeking a suitor from the royal house, and she is hoping to arrange a marriage interview post-haste.”

“Now, of all times?” Theodore responded with disbelief.

“Whatever the reason may be, she’s a notable individual and the heiress to an incredible business empire. Every eligible young man in the house will be clawing to get to the front of the line and make their case.”

Theodore sighed, “Then I am not interested.”

He knew Maria well enough. She was the most popular girl at the academy, possessing an oddly devoted fanclub of girls and boys who wanted to get into her good graces, all without realising that Maria did not care for those who projected a false image of themselves.

The discourse around her friendship with the ‘commoner farm girl’ was damning enough. While she was an intimidating presence and was of good breeding, Theodore got the impression that she was more reasonable than one would expect. Regardless – he held no particular desire to become her chosen suitor.

“Is it because she’s too young?” the attendant pondered, “You should know that-”

“I’m well aware of how a betrothal works, Mister Fleur. It is a matter of personal preference and nothing more.”

Theodore knew that the decision may not be his to make in the end. The royal family kept a close eye on what all of their members were doing. Only those of an extremely distant relation within a branch house had the freedom to marry as they chose to commoner and noble alike. Over there marrying a commoner was extremely uncommon, and only happened when one was so smitten with the appearance of another that they disregarded custom and financial benefit.

But if Walston-Carter was seeking a marriage interview, then there would be no shortage of men from the house who would attempt to win her favour. The halls of the palace and the surrounding manors were filled to bursting with ambitious fellows with no land or promise of a job. Marrying Walston-Carter, even matrilineally, would be a step up from their present position.

Maria held the cards in that scenario. The royal name was a tempting boon to many, a future Maria Van Walser could throw some serious weight around, and the heir born from such a marriage would not be so easily ignored despite not standing to succeed the throne.

Theodore muttered to himself under his breath, attempting to work out what her angle was. Ekkehard had seized the throne and cast the entire family into chaos, with people taking sides and arguing fiercely about what the future of the tree should be. There was significant uncertainty around which cadet house would lead the way, or if it was all a foolish power grab doomed to end in disaster for Ekkehard and his kin.

“Very well,” Fleur conceded, “You are right. There will be no shortage of cousins and distant connections attempting to win the day. I firmly believe that you would be the victor in any scenario. You are the only direct descendent of Thersyn in the running.”

“I’ll say this. Maria Walston-Carter is never as straightforward as that.”

Was it intelligence or malice? Theodore wanted to know.

“She’s visiting the palace in two days. You may enter for an interview if you so choose before then. I am going to be busy preparing what is needed for the event – so please come and find me if you need anything, Prince.”

“Don’t worry yourself with me if there’s work to be done.”

“I’m afraid that worrying about you is my job, Prince. I must be off to deliver this tray.”

“Have a good day, Fleur.”

Fleur bowed politely and continued walking down the long corridors of the palace to his destination. There was always a job to be done around here. Floors and windows needed cleaning, or food and drink needed to be delivered, or a guest was visiting and the servants were in a blind panic because the two-hundred-year-old wine in the cellar had been shattered by a loose rat, and the King insisted on using it for the reception.

Third in line for the throne. Theodore shook his head and laughed to himself. There was no chance in hell that he was being allowed to choose his wife. Fleur seemed convinced that his older brother’s marriage and the children born from it would secure the line well enough. Worse disaster had befallen the royal family before. His father already had someone in mind, he could feel it whenever they spoke about what he was doing in the future.

It was going to be a troublesome week at the royal palace, it always was when his cousins were involved.