Kid led Ilyena and her escort back through the tunnels and emerged into the inner city. James still seemed to be out on whatever mission it was he’d undertaken. Kid asked one of the hideout guards to inform the man that he would be occupied with an assignment from Marc for the next day. The man didn’t seem to believe him, but agreed to relay the message, nonetheless.

With his ducks in a row, Kid emerged from the manse onto the streets of the inner city, eyes turned toward the stars overhead. It was a cloudless night. Cold and pristine. The day’s melt was coalescing into ice and hardened snow that cracked and crunched loudly as his boots crushed through it. He looked to Ilyena for where to go.

Her hood was up, and she walked with sure strides as if the curfew and patrolling Greencloaks were of no consequence to her. Kid followed in her wake as she walked down the streets. After about a block, she turned into a shadowed alley. At the far end, Kid spotted a carriage sequestered in the back along with an additional guard and a cold looking carriage driver wearing a tabard with the Thorne Heraldry of a red briar on a black field.

The horses snorted at their approach and the carriage driver leapt onto the bench above them. The guard opened the door of the carriage for Ilyena as she neared, but she paused, turning to Kid. “Should anybody ask, you’re a Venaran messenger boy who will be awaiting a written response from my father on the taxes due on the winter portage. If anybody asks for further information, you don’t know anything about the subject because of course you wouldn’t,” she said, “My driver took pity on you and is giving you a lift to the castle.” She gestured to the bench above the cart.

The driver took the hint and scooted over to make room. Kid followed suit, grasping at the small ladder set into the cart and climbing up the steps. The driver held out a hand to Kid and Kid accepted the aid, letting himself be hauled up. He settled in beside the driver, a lean faced man with thinning hair. The man grunted in acknowledgement of Kid’s existence and spat over the other edge of the carriage. When the door of the carriage shut below them, he set the cart into motion with a crack of the reins.

The night was quiet and neither Kid nor the driver seemed interested in breaking the silence. Kid had never sat on a carriage before. The height gave him a new view of the city, cast in the moonlight. The area inside the walls was really quite breathtaking to behold. Wide avenues of cobbled stone were flanked by an array of large wooden homes carved in neat rows and interspersed with large manses of worked stone where the wealthiest of the mercantile class resided.

Some homes had runes carved into the walls, intertwining braids that formed into dazzling murals. Kid knew they were something important to his heritage, but nobody had ever told him what they were. Just another relic of a bygone era.

The streets opened up as they reached the main market square. A patrol of Greencloaks walked among the abandoned stalls but they quickly lost interest in the carriage upon recognizing the sigil on the driver’s surcoat.

Kid hardly noticed the exchange, his eyes fixed on the half dozen men hanging from nearby stakes shaped like a cross. In the center of the square. Their elbows were nailed to the cross’s wings, forcing their shoulders into an unnatural position as their weight dragged them down. He could almost feel his bones grinding just looking at them. Around each of their necks hung a sign with ‘traitor’ painted in white. On the ground below their feet rested masks shaped into the faces of various animals. Blood from the men dripped onto the masks below, giving them a grisly appearance. Worst of all, two had been captured alive. Their tortured expressions gave voice to their agony. They’d likely already screamed themselves mute. He knew they wouldn’t bleed out. They never did. Either the cold or thirst would take them. Kid hoped their friends would take the risk to kill them in the night.

“Poor bastards,” the driver said. Kid nodded his agreement.

The carriage trundled onward, following the roads deeper into town, toward the Castle rising high above the surrounding buildings, standing a silent vigil over the town. The smell of salt in the air told Kid they were getting closer to the ports. The sound of crashing waves in the distance grew louder as they neared the towering cliff face the castle straddled. Torches glimmered from the ramparts, light glinting off the iron arms of the men patrolling the walls high above.

A moment later, the carriage was trundling up the switchbacks leading to the castle gate high above the city. Kid could see the bay laid out before him. Fishing boats and large merchant vessels lay docked in the maze of piers. In the distance, he could pick out the white sails of ships nearing over the horizon. The horses panted from their exertion, and they soon surpassed the height of all but the tallest buildings. Kid could see the wooden roofs stretch for miles in every direction. The Southern churches alone stood above the rest, their stone and marble spires piercing the sky.

As they neared the gates, the driver waved a one fingered salute at the guards on duty. They returned the gesture from atop the walls and a moment later the iron portcullis rose. Kid eyed the wrought iron spikes above his head with mild trepidation as the carriage rolled into the wide courtyard. The ground was paved with cobblestones and directly ahead were the large double doors leading into the keep proper. To his right and left, smaller structures abutted the walls from which servants and soldiers came to and from even at this hour.

The carriage pulled to a halt abreast the Keep doors. The driver, leapt from the bench in a smooth motion that belied a lifetime of practice as Kid clambered down the steps to the ground. The guards stepped from the carriage, followed by Ilyena. Kid waited awkwardly as she dismissed the guards, thanking them for their service with a Golden Hart each. As the guards took their leave and the carriage trundled off, she turned to him, meeting his gaze before looking up at the towering edifice of stone that was the keep.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Big,” Kid said.

She snorted. “How astute.”

Kid wasn’t sure what that meant but wasn’t about to admit it. “Some might even call it large,” he said, doubling down.

She gave him a level look. “I may find insolence amusing on occasion, but you’d best tone it down when you speak to my father.”

Kid’s breath caught; any trace of wit blown from his senses. “What?”

She ignored the question, walking toward the doors flanked by a pair of Thorne guardsmen. “Come,” she beckoned.

Kid had little choice but to follow. What was he going to do? Scale the wall? Dive from the cliffs? Both had their merits but fell short of viable. She had to be joking, right?

The guards opened the doors at Ilyena’s approach, releasing a rush of warm air that flowed over Kid. “Evening, gents,” Ilyena said as she brushed past them.

“Welcome home, my lady,” one of them greeted.

Ilyena wiggled the fingers of on hand over her shoulder in farewell as she walked away without looking back. She led Kid down the hall past a menagerie of people. There were dozens of girls near his age carrying baskets full of laundry, cleaning utensils, and a thousand other mundane items. They wore black dresses as if in mourning. The way they scurried about combined with their black attire reminded him of ants and he couldn’t help but stare. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so many attractive girls in any one place outside of a brothel. Older women in similar uniforms bearing the Thorne family crest shepherded the girls and gave orders.

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Several large porters carried heavy bags of flour past him, a dusting of the white powder marring the blackness of their garb. Aside from their tidy uniforms, they looked similar to the men Kid saw by the docks.

His attention was diverted by a beautiful tapestry hanging along the wall. It depicted Bleakridge castle standing high above the city. Its high walls seemed to touch the overlarge moon hanging in the sky. Kid reached out to stroke it as they passed. His fingers glided over the fabric. It felt like the pocket of a nobleman- pure silk. If he could somehow sneak it out of here, he would never have to work again.

He tore his eyes from the tapestry as llyena led him deeper into the castle. Kid lost track of how many turns they made and was soon very lost. Who in their right mind intentionally made a floorplan this confusing?

The rich decorations continued to draw his eyes. Paintings worth a small fortune hung at every corner. He now refrained from touching them after a passing guardsman smacked his hand. Kid held the hand to his chest with a grimace while Ilyena wore an infuriating smirk on her face.

Having grown somewhat accustomed to the rich decorations, Kid found he was having a new problem now that Ilyena was leading him rather than the other way around- his eyes kept betraying him and drifting downward to where her dress curved around her hips. The last thing he needed was for her to catch him staring.

After a half dozen more turns, they reached a stairwell. Kid followed Ilyena up the stairs. The steps curved in a tight spiral and ascended in a never-ending circle. Ilyena climbed them with a practiced ease, but Kid kept stumbling over the awkward angle of the steps. Who the hell made stairs like this? Kid’s thoughts drifted back to the steep switchbacks, and he wondered if nobles had some kind of fetish for climbing things. It felt like they’d spent the better part of an hour ascending toward the sky.

“Watch your step,” Ilyena said after Kid tripped and fell against the wall.

Kid mumbled obscenities under his breath. Very under his breath.

They emerged into a long hallway, on what Kid believed was the fifth floor. The hall was absent of any decoration and had no branching paths. He followed her down the austere hall, adorned only with flickering torches that provided the sole source of light. It felt as if he had gone far beneath the earth, but he knew the opposite to be true. The feeling was disorienting. Kid nervously tugged at his collar as Ilyena stopped before a large oaken door set into the wall. She paused as a guardsman passed by. The man eyed Kid. But, seeing he was with Ilyena, the man let him go without incident.

She looked to Kid. “Speak if spoken to.”

Kid nodded, heart pounding. That was not advice that needed voicing.

Ilyena knocked at the door.

“Come,” a voice beckoned from inside.

Kid wondered whether rich people actually slept.

Ilyena opened the door and strode inside. Kid followed in her wake, eyes wide as he took in the green banners lining the walls. They bore sigils he was unfamiliar with, some flecked with what could only be old blood. Trophies?

A pair of sitting chairs occupied the open space by the lit hearth. Flames danced in the stone pit and an old man, with hair more grey than black stared into the fire. As Ilyena’s shoes clicked against the stone floor, he turned to look at her and his eyes drifted to Kid.

Kid nearly missed a step as he caught the man’s gaze. His eyes were a mirror of Ilyena’s in color- a cloudy grey- but where hers were full of life, the Earl’s gaze was that of a dead man. It reminded Kid of the men he’d met at his execution. The eyes were set into an equally hard face, atop deep bags that belied a lack of sleep. He was dressed in all black save for a golden ring on his right hand.

Kid took a deep breath and fell into a courtly bow as he had seen Marc give to Ilyena.

“There’s no need for that here,” the Earl said. His voice was deep and powerful.

Kid awkwardly rose from his bow as Ilyena walked to her father and stood beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he straightened in his chair.

It was then that Kid realized how large the man was. Even sitting, he nearly came up to Ilyena’s shoulder. The Earl looked up at her. “Business took you away?” he asked, glancing at Kid askance.

“It was time-sensitive, but I think I made a good show of being offended at the recounting of our family history, no?” she asked.

“Almost had me convinced until I found you weren’t here,” he said, “You stole my carriage.”

Ilyena had the grace to look abashed.

“Talk,” the Earl commanded.

Kid stood awkwardly while Ilyena took a seat in the only other chair and recounted the night’s events. It was as if they had forgotten he was there. His panic slowly turned into boredom until he heard his name and the panic returned ten-fold. But, it was just Ilyena introducing him to the story with a gesture.

After some time, she finished recounting the information. The Earl’s face was impassive, and he was quiet a long moment. “It was the fifth cohort who provided you this information?”

Ilyena nodded.

“Your brother is being attached to that cohort for an operation to happen in the next week,” he said.

Ilyena was quiet, taking in the implication.

Kid swallowed, wishing he was anywhere else.

Ilyena bit her lip. “We could refuse to provide the information to keep the point of attack unknown.”

The Earl shook his head. “If we don’t, they’ll still be on alert.” He looked into the fire a moment before continuing. “And what do corrupt men tend to do to those sent to watch them?”

Kid knew the answer but didn’t dare voice it. The question hung in the air.

“What can we do?” she asked.

The Earl’s gaze turned to Kid. Kid immediately averted his eyes, unable to meet the man’s gaze for more than a moment. “What does he fear?”

Ilyena didn’t hesitate. “He fears for the wellbeing of his mother.”

For some reason, the betrayal stung Kid.

The Earl looked at his hands a moment before speaking. “Boy, do you know what I would do to protect my kin?”

Kid clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. He nodded.

“I don’t think you do,” the Earl said, rising to his feet.

Kid took an involuntary step back as the man approached, looking wide-eyed up him as he came to a stop a few paces away.

“You know Bill Billson?” he asked.

“Billy?” Kid asked, voice a whisper.

The man knelt before him, bringing his gaze to Kid’s eyelevel. Kid could hardly breathe. “After you deliver the information to Marc, find Bill, tell him of this, and remind him that he owes his miserable life to Grim.”

Kid nodded, fighting the urge to take another step back.

“And under no circumstances, will you tell Marc of my son’s presence,” he said.

“Why not?” Ilyena asked, “Surely if we explained-”

The Earl cut her off. “In his place I would capture Grim and bring him into the Sons, for what other choice would Grim have?” The Earl shook his head. “That doesn’t fit with our plans.”

Kid’s ears perked.

“It might be better than his current situation, as the Marshal’s prisoner.” Ilyena muttered.

“This isn’t just about him,” the Earl said.

Ilyena seemed to want to say more but held her tongue, looking to Kid. Kid forced a weak smile that faded as the Earl met his gaze. “Do you understand your charge?”

“Yes- Lord,” he said, forcing the words out.

The Earl nodded to him as if he expected nothing less, then rose to his feet. “Ilyena, take him to a room and see to it that he is fed if need be.”

Ilyena rose from her chair and dipped into a curtsy to her father. She brushed past Kid as she walked to the door. “Come,” she beckoned.

Kid turned to follow her, his hackles rising as he felt the Earl’s gaze on his back. His unease didn’t begin to fade until the door to the chambers closed behind him. Kid released a breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Intense, isn’t he?” Ilyena asked as she led the way down the hall.

Kid didn’t answer, no longer in a talking mood.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Quiet now, are we?”

“Threatening to find and kill somebody’s mother tends to somber the mood,” Kid muttered.

Ilyena was quiet a long moment, her face contemplative as she looked away from him. She didn’t speak until they reached the stairwell. She paused in the corridor leading down and turned to face him.

Kid met her grey eyes as she hesitated, opening her mouth to speak. “He wouldn’t hurt her. Not really. My father is not a cruel man. He threatens out of fear not malice.”

Kid furrowed his brow. “Why would you tell me that?”

She bit her lip. “Because I think he made a mistake,” she said, “Because I think you care more about what is right than what is convenient, and I don’t think you’re the type to be coved by threats.” She smiled weakly. “My father isn’t perfect, but he’s doing his best. Ask anyone who’s served him, and they’ll tell you the same.”

She was right. Kid was already thinking of how to best beg Marc to hide his mother after he told him everything. “I’ll ask,” he said. It was all he was willing to promise.

She gave him a slight nod before continuing on their way down to the third floor where she passed him off to an older woman dressed in Thorne livery. The woman showed him to a small room on the seaward side of the castle. It had a small bed, washbasin, table, and chair. The stone walls were bare save for a small inlet cut into the wall through which a stream of moonlight shined, carrying the distant sounds of crashing waves. It was the nicest room he’d ever had.