Commotion. That was the first thing that registered in his brain before he had even opened his eyes. Something was going on, and it wasn't the usual bustling of an army camp.

Darius was on his feet within the second and grabbed the sword he always kept within reach. At the entrance of his tent, he paused a moment to assert the situation and then he stepped out.

There was fighting going on withing the camp. How was this possible? Had the troops at the border all fallen? Was Balor invading?

"My king," one of his soldiers dropped to one knee in front of him, looking stressed. "there are Balor warriors in the camp, my king. They have disguised themselves as our soldiers by stealing the armor of our fallen, and managed to slip through our defenses. We are trying to detain them, but unfortunately several of our guards have been slain already before we realized what was happening."

Darius gritted his teeth. It really was one thing after another. But there wasn't much they could do against it now except fight back.

"All men to arms!" Darius declared, "form close ranks! You know your brethren! You have fought beside them all this time! Work together once more and take down the enemy once and for all!" He turned to the soldier that was still in front of him. "Do we have any idea about their numbers? How many have infiltrated?"

"Not yet, Your Majesty."

Darius nodded. "We'll make due then." He swung his sword around and headed into the fray. There was no time to strategize. He did not know where Torcan was. All he could do was fight. It would end here, one way or the other.

...

When Vara entered Cyrus' room, she found him exactly how she had left him last time; sprawled out on the bed with a goblet within reach. On the table was a plate with untouched food.

She sighed. "Cyrus."

Cyrus only slightly turned his head to look at her. He seemed drunk. "They send you again to check on me?" he asked, "do they think I'll spill my soul to you?"

Vara scrunched her nose. "Perhaps they think you'll spill the entire country's stock of wine. How much did you drink today? You stink. Sober up and go to the bathhouse."

Cyrus scowled. "Do you know where you won't smell me? On the other side of the door."

"How very mature," Vara cast back, "do you think I want to be here? At least show up at the evening meal tomorrow. Think about Lucius at least."

"He will be fine," Cyrus sighed, "he's hurting now, but in a few days he'll be back to normal."

"Like you were?" Vara bit at him. She had hoped at least that would draw a reaction from hm. Anger would still be better than this lethargy. But the most she received from him was cold silence. She knew she had hurt him. She knew how much he had loved his mother. He should be able to understand how his son was feeling now. It was like he didn't even care. "Cyrus!" she scolded.

Now he did react, though it was still not the reaction she had been after. He turned towards her fully and hoisted himself in a sitting position, though he grabbed his head in pain from the motion. "Stop nagging at me, Vara," he growled, "if you don't want to be here, go home. Go wait for Iason to return from the war." He reached for the wine goblet.

Vara reached it first and drank it instead.

She immediately pulled a face at the strong taste of spiced wine. Cyrus had always loved the heavier wines. They usually gave her a headache.

She put the goblet down and narrowed her eyes at him. "I care about you, Cyrus. And I'm worried. I don't want to leave you here like this. If you want to grieve, that's fine, but grieve with the rest of the family. Grieve with your son. Don't lock yourself up in this dark hole. Or do you want to lose him too?"

"He looks like her," Cyrus let out a sigh and closed his eyes. A flash of pain shot through his heart when he imagined the boy's golden hair and soft features. "I can't even look at him. He looks like her."

Vara only stared at him for a moment. Was that the reason he wouldn't leave his room? Because Lucius looked like his mother? Was the boy a constant reminder of the woman he hadn't loved enough? Was he grieving or was it guilt? Perhaps it was a combination of the two. "He still needs you, she finally said.

In answer, Cyrus turned his back on her and pretended to go to sleep. "Leave me alone."

Vara let out a sigh. This wasn't going to lead anywhere. "Fine," she said, "I'll go. But at least show up at tomorrow's evening meal."

Cyrus made a non-comitial sound and ignored her after.

Vara shook her head concerned and left the room.

The next evening, Cyrus didn't show himself either.

...

He woke with a start and immediately felt hands press him down again. "Easy, easy," someone said in an accented voice, "your wound will reopen."

Iason glanced up at the man. He was a soldier from Tirèze, though he had never met him before. The patrol must have found him. Had they killed the Balor troops that had been chasing him? "Message," he managed to get out. His head was pounding. "I have an urgent message for king Darius."

The soldier nodded solemnly. "Yes. We know. The camp is under attack. Your message came too late."

When Iason tried to sit up gain, the soldier stopped him again. "Calm down I said. That Balor scum got you good. We took care of them. You were lucky you were almost upon us or you would not have lived. Now it's only mostly bruises, though the arrow wound still need stitching."

Iason barely paid attention to his injuries. He was only focused on what the soldier had said earlier. The camp was under attack? Then why were they still here? They needed to aid the army. "What happened?" he asked while he tried to force the fog from his mind. "If the camp is under attack, why are we not fighting?"

"Because," the soldier emphasized, "as much as it bothers us to stay here, someone has to. We still need to keep an eye on approaching enemies, or even allies. So we can take action accordingly. A few of us have gone down to the camp. We sent out a rider to our North troops. Now we can only wait."

Iason let out a sigh and leaned back on the cot. His head hurt. "I should have known," he muttered, "with men from Vertalis already in their troops, it was an easy deception. They used our own trick against us. It's what our soldiers did to infiltrate Balor."

The soldier looked at him kindly. "The most obvious always seems to elude us. If you should have known, others should have known too. It's in the past now. We can only fight back. Fear not. We will be victorious in the end." He patted Iason's shoulder. "Rest." He stood up and walked outside. Only now did Iason notice he was in an improvised tent, made of rock and branches. It must have been erected especially for him to shield him from the cold while he was injured.

Carefully, he tried to sit up again. Why hadn't he noticed before? It would be so easy for men of Vertalis to slip through the cracks. Tirèze probably wouldn't even recognize the difference between one man from Zeir or the other. At least they should have considered the possibility.

Was it all too late now? At least lord Cassius was warned, but in the midst of chaos, had he understood what Iason was telling him? At that time, he had been in such a hurry to warn king Darius he hadn't paid attention to anything else.

Iason closed his eyes in shame and worry. How had he handled things so badly?

His mind drifted towards Vara, towards home. Would he ever see her again now? Could they truly still defeat Balor? Or had they already managed to set foot in Zeir as well? Was Vara still safe?

Filled with agony, he succumbed to sleep.

...

The moment he saw an opening, Torcan took his chance . He made his way to the edge of the camp and mounted the first horse he saw. If only he could make it to Salvire. The army there was not large, especially with some of the men still loyal to Izem, but even the smallest amount in numbers could make the difference.

Mikos wouldn't hesitate to help.

He had known something was wrong when a small dispute had broken out earlier that day. A soldier had tried to pick a fight over an inconsequential matter. When his intended opponent hadn't budged, the first one had drawn his sword.

Luckily, his target had been quick-witted and could block the attack. After wrestling his attacker to the ground, and taking off his helmet, it had become clear that the attacker wasn't one of their own but a Balor warrior in disguise.

And that hadn't been the only infiltrator. All around, fighting had started. A row of sudden, unexpected attacks within the camp.

It wasn't long before the camp realized what was going on and struck back. They had to do everything in their power to prevent Balor from advancing inward into Tirèze.

Salvire might be their last hope.

Torcan steered his horse away from the main road. If anyone was following him, he'd be less easy a target. Luckily Salvire wasn't that far.

He just had to make it.

Before all was lost.

...

Lucius wanted to curl up and cry. Yesterday he had joined the king and aunt Vara in their discussion on how to deal with the traitors' children. His grandfather had told him to pay attention and discuss it with his teacher later, but he found it so difficult.

He hadn't slept well. Normally when he couldn't sleep, his mother would sing for him and stroke his hair. But she would never do that again. He was all alone now. His father wouldn't even look at him. Perhaps he'd done something wrong. If he didn't say the right things to his teacher tomorrow, would his grandfather turn away from him too? What was the right thing to say? Should he side with his grandfather who wanted to strip this Giulia and Deccus from their land and titles? Was his aunt Vara right to want to banish them or marry Giulia off? She didn't seem to think much of Deccus. Lucius remembered her commenting on the fact that no woman should be punished into marrying Deccus.

Lucius sighed. How was he to know the best solution? What if his answers were wrong?

Quietly he leaned on his windowsill and stared out over the courtyard. Not a lot of people were out in this cold weather. The gardens didn't need much tending during winter.

After a moment of debate, Lucius put on a thick woolen cloak and his winter boots and slipped from the room. It might be cold outside, but it was preferable over being locked inside these walls.

He was supposed to study for his lessons, and his teacher would probably scold him, but he didn't feel like peering over family trees and foreign scripts. Instead, he escaped outside to where he had seated himself last time.

It had kept snowing during the night, enough to leave prints wherever he walked. It was a pretty sight, but inconvenient for someone that was looking for a place to hide.

Lucius sighed as he trudged through the snow and sat down on a bench with his knees pulled up against his chest. How long ago had it been that he rode with his father on his horse? He had looked up to his father, and it had felt like his father really loved him. He'd seemed so proud to see Lucius at his riding lessons. If only he could go back to that time.

A whizzing sound drew the boy's attention in the otherwise quiet garden. Curiously he looked around to identify the source of the sound. It came from somewhere nearby.

A little stiff from the cold, Lucius got up from the bench and turned the corner.

A practice target was set up on the snowy training grounds and someone was shooting arrows at it. Upon taking a closer look, Lucius realized the archer was his aunt Vara. She was quite good at it.

He watched as she pulled back the bowstring, her arm a perfect straight line with the arrow. She held it for a moment as she took aim and then released it when she exhaled.

The arrow hit the target only a finger width away from the center.

She notched another arrow.

Lucius watched breathlessly. He hadn't known his aunt was such a good archer. There weren't that many ladies that could shoot the bow and arow. At least not that he was aware of.

Her next arrow was also close to the target's center and Lucius let out a small gasp.

The sound seemed to draw Vara's attention and she lowered her bow as she turned in his direction. "Out again?" she asked kindly, "or were you looking for another escape?"

Lucius looked down and stared at his feet. He gave a light shrug. He didn't really know what he wanted, except going back in time.

Vara sighed softly. She knew exactly how he felt. The palace walls were suffocating. Cyrus was still locking himself away, and the king had a war to win. It was hardly a comfortable place for a small boy that had just lost his mother. Even she felt out of place. She just wanted to go back to Boncini, but she couldn't just leave this boy behind without someone to watch over him. He was still so small. He needed love and comfort.

Vara's heart ached. How she longed to have a child of her own. She couldn't understand how easily Cyrus could turn away for his own son simply because he looked like his mother.

The words left her lips before she could think on them.

Anything to make this boy happy again.

"How would you like to come stay at Boncini for a while?"

...

Once Cassius Strega had realized what Iason had meant with his hasty warning, the decision was quickly made. He'd instructed the men to close ranks and hold off attacking. Anyone still fighting would be considered the enemy. That was when the archers would release their arrows.

It would give them time to reassess the situation and attack in a more structured way. The needed to prevent the enemy from getting their hands on more armor to disguise themselves. He only hoped Iason had managed to break through and warn king Darius. It irked him that the enemy had outsmarted them. After all their experience with Balor, knowing men from Zeir allied with them, this shouldn't have happened.

"My lord?" one of his men approached him, keeping an eye on the enemy, "the men are awaiting your instructions."

Cassius nodded. His earlier tactics had worked and they had weeded out the enemy in disguise. All men knew to keep a careful eye on those around them. Slowly they were gaining the upper hand again. Now that Balor had lost the element of surprise, they needed to come up with another strategy as well. So Cassis needed to take advantage of that.

"Align the men," he said, "we will advance on them with everything we have. Use the strategy we originally started and encircle them so they cannot escape. We will lock them in and wipe them out. Let's finish this once and for all."

...

King Marcos stared at Vara for a long time when she told him she wanted to take Lucius with her to Boncini. She said it would be good for the boy to be in another environment for a while, that it would be good for Cyrus as well. Right now, Cyrus wouldn't listen to anyone and wouldn't see his son. Perhaps with the boy away from the palace for a time, Cyrus would leave his room again and start focusing again on the kingdom he would one day inherit. The longer he hid himself away, the higher the chances that word would get out that the crown prince was unstable. People might lose their trust in the royal family. The last thing they needed right now was unrest within their borders.

The king could see her reasoning, but was not entirely comfortable with the idea of the young prince moving somewhere so far away. And close to the border at that.

"It is too dangerous," he said firmly.

"Your Majesty," Vara protested, "Boncini is well-guarded. Your own men are still stationed there. If it makes you more comfortable, you could send extra soldiers for added measures. Nothing will happen to Lucius. He is Cyrus' son. I would protect him with my life."

King Marcos sighed. He had no doubt she would. Vara would always fight to protect those she cared about. "He is still a prince, Vara," he said, "he needs to learn to follow in his father's footsteps, attend his lessons. I know what you are trying to do, and perhaps if he were a second son I could allow it. But as it is, I can't afford to have him raised a regular child. Because he is not a regular child. He is a prince with responsibilities."

"But he is also a child," Vara countered. It was as if she had held a similar conversation before. And then she realized that she had. The king used that same argument when he had forbidden Cyrus to wed her.

"If he had been a second son..."

But she had learned since then. "It's because he's the firstborn son," she said, "as a prince, he should learn about his people. He can't do that by just studying scrolls. It will be good for him to experience the lives of common people up close, but still protected. Here in the palace, everything is a reminder of his mother. Lucius is just as much her son as he is Cyrus'. And you know what Cyrus was like when his mother died. My king, he is my family too. Your father always valued my opinion on state matters. You yourself have consulted me on several occasion. I can teach Lucius how to consider different circumstances. If not me, then you can send his teacher with him. He is welcome to stay at Boncini too. And Lucius can learn how to ride a horse or shoot the bow and arrow just the same at Boncini as anywhere else. Give him some time away from court. I will send him back whenever you summon him."

King Marcos sighed again. "I need to think about this," he said, "it's not a decision I can make on sentiments alone. Go. I will give you my answer tomorrow."

Vara curtsied. "Your Majesty." she quietly left the room. She had done all she could. Now it was out of her hands.

Slowly she walked down the hall to retreat to her own rooms. This palace had become stifling. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of it. Neve before had she felt so uncomfortable here.

Hopefully the king would allow her to return to Boncini tomorrow, because she didn't think she could bear another day.