I hissed in frustration. But Camille’s words broke in through the chat group, reassuring.

CAMILLE: There’s no reason to worry. That’s part of the password.

The tavern keeper cleared his throat. His eyes lingered on Malor for a moment too long.

“Then, send him greetings from a good friend,” said Malor.

“I’ll bring your order as soon as possible.”

We exchanged glances slowly.

Had it been a good idea? Better than trying to flee during the daylight. If they were to be trusted, we’d soon find out.

CAMILLE: So… Connor. Another thing. This is supposed to arrange transport for us to go through elven trade routes.

CONNOR: I see. We can sort that easily. Just tell them to bring us out of the castle and not follow the route. I’ll keep an eye on the grid, so I’ll be ready if someone tries to double-cross us.

CAMILLE: Oh, please, Aria, help us.

The barkeep moved back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. I noticed the patrons around us, their eyes flickering toward us. I took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Lord… I mean, Master Reagan,” Malor said softly, lowering his face. “Please accept my apologies. You really knew better. I regret making you come all the way here and putting your life at risk.”

I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. My goodness, the boy looked destroyed. Humiliated. We couldn’t have him feeling like that. I knew he could do much good. His idea was useful. It was lofty and worthy, but we couldn’t go about reinstating him in the way he’d imagined.

“You’re a good man,” I said. “And you’re on the right track. You want the best for your people. It’s just that you gave them too much credit, and the situation required, you know, more planning. It’s a good thing that you see the best in people, but sometimes you should be careful with that.”

“See how Reagan deals with it?” Camille said, resting her head on her palm. “He takes risks he can afford. And doesn’t trust people all that much.”

“Alright,” I mumbled. “You don’t need to compare us. We do things differently. But now we’ve learned from the experience.”

As we were talking, I noticed the conversation that was going on at the other table. A single sentence had made me turn to them, almost unconsciously.

“The king?” said one of the men, the one who looked younger, had a well-trimmed beard, and wasn’t smoking a pipe. He had a mug in hand, from which he’d routinely take small sips.

“Yes,” replied the older one, taking a whiff of tobacco and letting it out as he spoke. “I heard he was captured not far from here, trying to contact his allies. He got caught just now, you heard? And the son of a ballista just dissolved into thin air. I’m telling you. Somethin’ ain’t right in here.”

The other man snorted in disbelief.

“Impossible. I’m sure someone’s making horshite up again.”

The smoker chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s true! I’ve heard ‘em talking about it just now. And I tell you. He’s still alive. The goddess herself protects him.”

The non-smoker hushed him, looking over his shoulder.

“Careful,” he said in a whisper. “You never know if they’re listening.”

He scoffed. “Who? The city guard?”

“Even worse,” the non-smoker replied. “Have you heard of what that scumbag Virna’s doing? He’s forgiving debts if you give a list of people who show support for… the previous king. Or hints… you know, that… You know. He’d come back.”

“Huh. That would explain a lot. You heard that old bitch who brews beer in the neighborhood, Rawena? They must’ve frightened the old hag. She was sharing those foolish rumors, and now she talks like she’s always been Virna’s little hound.”

“I knew it was all trouble,” the bearded man said, sipping on his drink. “Bad omens we’ve seen. Things are not like they used to be.”

The man with the pipe took a long huff and exhaled a ring, gazing thoughtfully at his glass.

“I’ve told you before,” he said, lowering his voice. “His Majesty’s messing up with some fiendish ideas. Have you heard of that nasty business with those barbarians who are coming in to meet with the court? You’ve seen those black riders coming into the court. Barbarians, it is said they are, from the courts of the east. And I’ve heard heinous things.”

“They’re true, you know?” said the other man. “Remember that woman from the river? His kid went out to play and now he’s gone. She’s been weeping like a damned ghost.”

Camille looked over at the other table.

And then she spoke. I felt a shock inside me, but didn’t show it. What was she thinking?

“Excuse me, good gentlemen,” she said, leaning forward.

One of the men raised an eyebrow. The one with the pipe let out a puff, then tapped it and added more tobacco from a pouch.

Something told me that she didn’t talk like the usual customer.

The men’s glances were not friendly anymore. Not toward us, anyway. They seemed to have grown wary. Were they fearing spies? We certainly looked out of place.

“Nothing, nothing, just… our own business.”

“Because…” Camille added, “we know nothing about kings and elves. We’re from the countryside. But once we came into the city. By the Goddess! It’s all we hear. What in the world is going on? I see a lot of commotion.”

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“This entire kingdom is going to hell, that’s what’s happening!” grunted the man with the pipe.

His companion hushed him, as though those words themselves could get him into trouble.

"I see, yeah. Politics are always a drag, aren't they?" Camille said.

Malor leaned into his sister's ear and said something. She nodded. I didn't want to break their confidence or invade their privacy, but I'd trust that if both agreed to something, it wouldn't be bad. Camille was usually level-headed, aside from jumping into action when her brother was in danger; so much for not wanting to be on the front lines.

Then, the door at the end of the hall opened, and the barkeep stepped through, moving toward us with his hand clasped in front of his chest. I accessed the grid. Yes, there were some guards nearby, but they didn't seem to be coming his way. They appeared to be busy asking questions to the people at the recently opened market.

"My... good... friends," the barkeep said, as if he didn't know which words to use. "Please follow me."

The royals looked directly at me, and I nodded. I could already see what was behind the door, and it didn't seem threatening at all.

This could've been our way to escape the first time if we hadn't been on the opposite side and already had the entire city guard looking after our likeness.

Camille stood up, leaning into the man's ear. He bowed his head in reverence, which prompted the other patrons to whisper among each other. I overheard a little through Aria's power. Some wondered, naturally, whether we were spies, but we didn't seem to fit the bill, much less when Camille placed a gold coin in the man's palm.

"Certainly," the man said. "I will... certainly let them know."

"As foreigners in this land," Camille exclaimed, facing the patrons, "I'll give all that we have to you all, my friends. Drinks and breakfast for all! Order what you desire, what makes your hearth and body strong for the day and the night. Let today be a day to rejoice."

The men exchanged glances; the murmurs grew louder, accompanied by cheerful laughter and a handful of claps. I couldn't say this was bad, but it certainly left an impression.

We were already by the door, crossing into the kitchen when I heard one of the voices behind us.

"Did you notice that boy in the hat, Marko? He looked familiar, didn’t he? By the Ancestors, I’m not gonna say another word."

"That lady... I saw a strand of her hair…"

"You saw it too?"

"Hush..."

"It's true, didn't you see it... The royal locks..."

"Do not go around saying that."

Now this could get dicey. I watched the street we were being led toward. They had prepared a closed carriage replete with hay. It looked just like what farmers usually carried in and out. The driver bowed his head gently, his eyes almost in shock, his legs and arms trembling. Everything looked safe, but I’d figured I’d communicate with Camille for more information.

CONNOR: Who are these people again?

CAMILLE: They were spies set up by our parents. Our dad. Just in case things didn't go well. And don't worry, if my brother didn't disclose names to Larendo and Virna, we should be good.

CONNOR: Do you even know their names?

CAMILLE: Not really. They responded to my father only, and his own network. They came, as far as I know, from very devoted families in the Church of Aria. Hence their loyalty. They should be trustworthy.

They made way for us.

I had relayed the message to the girls already. Lariel and Alynna appeared close to the carriage, ready to join us. The man seemed surprised, almost shocked.

"They're with us," Camille explained.

"Of course..." the man said, bowing again. "Yes, my lady."

Camille leaned forward and explained to the man what we were planning to do, exiting the city and passing into Kent’s fiefdom instead of riding toward the south. He was to leave us outside, along the fields, along the river. I hoped it'd be close enough to Nidar for him to send us horses for the rest of the way.

We jumped into the carriage, with Lariel and Alynna in front of me. They began peppering my cheeks with kisses. They both still smelled like manure, but I loved them all the same.

Both the kitchen staff and the barkeep waved goodbye with plenty of bows and reverence, and the carriage started rolling.

“We did it, we did it, we did it!” exclaimed Lariel, spreading both her hands and almost slamming the sides of the carriage bed.

“Our husband is a genius of planning!” Alynna added.

“Come on, girls,” I said. “You guys and Camille did all the work.”

Camille cocked her head. “You really surprised me. Tactician. I’m glad you’re my tactician. It was amazing. And now I’m level 2. Whatever that means.”

“You all did great,” I exclaimed.

One of us didn’t look so happy, though. Malor took off his hat and gazed at the road. Man, that kid’s eyes were disappointed. Not to mention the bruises, the blood across his lips, and the scratches that still oozed blood.

I could understand it. Part of me didn’t want to forgive how dumb he’d been. But I could tell. This kills a man. The betrayal. Not being recognized by someone he expected to be a protector and a friend.

“Your Majesty,” I said. “It’s alright. We’re safe now. We can regroup and make a better plan.”

His eyes swung rapidly toward me.

“Tactician,” he replied. “All my life. All this time I’ve believed in people. I’ve believed in humanity. In honor. In understanding. I thought I could bring out the best in them, that if I played fair, that if I gave everyone respect, they’d behave well. I did it, Tactician. I’m not perfect by any means, but I tried. And everyone turned their back on me. I’m a fool.”

“I didn’t turn my back,” Camille said, her arm around his shoulder. “Nor did Lord Kent. We’re here by your side, Malli.”

Malor pulled her arm away, his muscles tensing.

“I don’t need your pity. I don’t need any of that.”

“Then what do you need, Your Majesty?” I asked.

He gritted his teeth, hiding his eyes from all of us.

“What I can’t ever get. Fairness. This world is unfair.”

I took a deep breath.

“Listen, Your Majesty. I get it. It sucks. You trusted someone with your life. With your heart, with your future even. I don’t tell you to not trust anyone. But you can find a way to have healthy expectations.”

He leaned his head forward, sighing in frustration.

“It’s easier said than done. I’m fed up. I think… They better rot. Let them take that piece of rubbish, Virna, and enthrone him.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said.

Camille caressed his hair, but he wouldn't have it.

And to our relief, we were already outside the walls.

The carriage rocked gently as it moved along the uneven path, the faint clatter of wheels over cobblestone fading into the quiet sounds of the countryside. Malor’s face was a battlefield of emotion—anger, betrayal, sorrow—and the tension in his shoulders was palpable. Camille’s attempts at comfort met an immovable wall, her touch gently rebuffed as Malor stared ahead, his hat dangling, crumpled in his hand.

I studied him for a moment, weighing my words. If I pressed too hard, he’d shut down entirely; if I didn’t, the bitterness could consume him. Finally, I spoke, keeping my tone calm but firm.

"Your Majesty, you’re right. This world isn’t fair. People will let you down. Not just once, but sometimes more than once. It happens.”

I thought I might regret this cheesy attempt at a pep talk. Yeah. Perhaps the best thing I could do was to wait. And once, and if he spoke, to listen.

He didn’t turn, but I saw his shoulders twitch slightly, his grip tightening on the hat.

“I’m a failure! My father… My king… Aria. I’ve failed her! I’ve failed them all!”

Alright. I couldn’t stand that.

“Listen, you kid. A king isn’t a king because everyone loves him. A king is a king because he loves his people, even when they’re not worthy of it. Even when they disappoint him. That love is what makes you better than them—not because they deserve it, but because it’s who you are."

Malor’s jaw tightened, the lines of his young face etched with doubt.

Camille chimed in softly, her voice steady but full of conviction.

“Connor’s right. It’s not about being naïve or trusting blindly. It’s about knowing the risks and still choosing to care. That’s what separates leaders from tyrants.”

He paused, looking out the window at the vineyards and large countryside houses that dotted the landscape. His expression softened for an instant.

“I get some people might be misguided,” he said softly. “Some have fallen for Vinra’s bullshit. I get that the real problem, the ones who carry all the guilt, are the ones who are lying and conspiring. But… those masses of misguided people, who only know lies, hear the truth and can’t even recognize it. Can they even learn? Can I make them understand? Or are they too lost to even notice?”