A big man with long red hair opened his eyes. Margrave Reinhardt stared at the stone ceiling above before suddenly leaning up. He grabbed his neck and grunted in pain from the sudden movement. A serving woman in the room froze in her tracks. The margrave opened his mouth to call out to her, but she quickly exited the room.

As Reinhardt leaned back into his bed, his son—a red-haired man quite similar in appearance to himself—entered the room, led by the serving girl who’d left earlier. One of his eyes had been rotted away by the waxpox, leaving a glossy useless eye in its spot. The other was rich and red like a ruby, and the two stared at each other.

“What’s happened?” the margrave demanded of his son upon sight.

Elias stepped to his father’s bed, and though his relief was evident, he did not hesitate in explaining, “You took a blow to the back of the head in the ambush. We won the battle, but the Duke Enrico was captured.” He looked at his father and narrowed his one good eye. “We had this same conversation yesterday. We thought you were better, but then you…”

The margrave looked stunned. “Last I remember…” he closed his eyes. “Walking into the fortress, and the ambush.”

“You didn’t remember that last time,” Elias sat on the bedside.

Reinhardt closed his eyes. “Enrico… was captured?” He opened his eyes. “And I wasn’t hit by an enemy.”

Elias’ concern grew. “What do you mean?”

“I was in a tight corridor. There were no traps above, and no place for any enemy to attack from. You said… I was hit in the back of the head?” The margrave rubbed the spot, yet his fingers found no scar to trace past his mane of red hair.

“…you were,” Elias nodded after hesitating a beat. “Are you sure you’re remembering this clearly? When you woke up last time, you passed out about eight hours later.”

“I’m certain. Gods be damned, how many days has it been?” Reinhardt grabbed the sheets over him and threw them off, then turned his body slowly. “You look grim. What else has happened?”

collapse again any moment now. “On top of that… Nikoletta and Mina took off the day after, too. I had Stain in command of the scouts, but even they lost track of the pair.”

behind…” the margrave stepped away from his son, standing without assistance. “I feel… bare. I need my armor. I need

thing… it was a letter about someone who had a way to grant an army access to the walls of Dirracha. The letter ties back to Sumner. This person the duke corresponded with seemed to be very confident

in surprise. Then, his face grew stoic and he nodded. “You’ve grown up,” he said simply, then walked towards

#####

able. Elenore had some trouble adjusting to the horse as it had been decades since last she rode. Nevertheless, she was quick to remember how, and after the first few hours progress

fortifications to be sure that everything was up to her standards. It was only there that they could eat, drink, and rest. Each of those experiences were short-lived, as they could afford no long breaks.

it was dark, they could light the way. When water was required, it was easily produced—this enabled them to travel lightly. Anneliese’s scouting made their path highly efficient. She ensured they travelled on largely level ground, enabling

only for a brief resupply, Anneliese and Elenore prudently advised that pressing into central Vasquer might mean armed combat, so the men

a tent just outside the city with the soldiers, yet even still he couldn’t avoid a select few from inside

as the king ate tiredly, trapped. The old patrician didn’t seem

said once he finished chewing. “It was important to our strategy they spread fear. That’s how the Mongols did their thing, in large part—fear,” he told Anneliese. They’d discussed that

seeing as how they came from those

his hands off of crumbs as he contemplated that, then looked to his side where Anneliese ate a large loaf of bread. While she had the loaf in her mouth, he tore it in half and took away the new piece. She didn’t seem

continued, stroking his white beard. “No room for

your city. You want to kill free labor, that’s your business. Did you at

the truth of it… they sought to spy, perhaps? This was long before Rovostar’s apparent ‘defeat,’ and your

talking about?” Argrave

craned his body as though he ached. “I’ve seen a lot throughout my years. I followed your father’s conquests as they happened, drinking in all news eagerly. And Duke Rovostar is not a commander that is so easily beaten by one like Sumner, who hastily assumed command after the margrave was injured. Perhaps if Margrave Reinhardt fought him squarely, the duke could lose.

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