"When you smile, you look like you're trying to split my head open. So kindly refrain from doing that in the future."

Addi's dumb grin vanished promptly after Steppo's curt dismissal, but several of the men in the back hadn't heard his instructions, and were therefore still playing at appearing as harmless as possible. One look at one of those hardened faces attempting to emulate the sleazy expressions of a lifelong courtier sent chills down Steppo's spine, so much so that he seriously began to question whether this had been a good idea. Naturally, his doubts had arrived too late to allow for retreat and he was now obliged to guide them safely through this challenge of his own making.

On the other side of the prickly shrubbery their group had taken refuge in, a winding road led to the guard post just a little distance away, currently masked by a grove of birches. Steppo's knees were beginning to protest at his uncomfortable crouching, but he had to make sure he maintained the best vantage point.

"Your father's already there," whispered Addi, shifting closer to the edge of the hedge. "So what are we waiting for?"

"Him," muttered Steppo as a sable steed thundered past, bearing a familiar figure in military attire.

The captain of his father's guards - an old fixture of the estate that had been attending Sebek Senior since before Steppo himself had been born - was a curious case of someone who'd never actually served in the military but was immediately assumed to have done so by everyone he came into contact with. Steppo had never trusted him on principle, as was his habit with everyone in his father's inner circle, and was even a little ashamed to admit that he'd never actually caught the man's name. He must have been told at some point, perhaps having even asked after it, but he'd always addressed him as "captain" by word and "bootlicking serpent" by thought. At the end of the day, he was his father's man through and through, and could therefore not be allowed to see Steppo's own entourage for the hunt.

From behind their thoroughly unoriginal, yet strategically chosen hiding place, Steppo kept his eye on the road, anticipating a whole slew of minor guards. Yet after roughly three more minutes of tense waiting, none of his assumptions were realized. It appeared that his father had placed his entire faith in the abilities and loyalties of one man - and it was not his eldest son. A contrary voice at the back of his mind dared to suggest that Steppo should be upset about this development, but the surprising flare-up of his familial conscience was not enough to drive him to regret. If anything, it made him more determined to prove that his way was the right one for the people he had chosen.

"Steady yourselves," he said, as they watched a convoy of palace servants walk down the path towards the estate entrance, bearing various supplies in voluminous bags, baskets, and ox-pulled wagons. "We're going in."

A shy finger tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around to stare into the worried eyes of one of Fern's twins. Mercer had absolutely declined to shave his fledgling beard in an effort to appear more "civilized" by the standards of the Kassi royal court, and so they'd had to wrap his face in a gray shawl borrowed from Garuvv's department. Unfortunately, there hadn't been enough of those to go around, so many men had had to compromise on their comfort, which was not an entirely bad notion, given that an Iskarian majority of servants was bound to raise suspicions.

"Should we take both wagons?" asked the boy, clearly trying to withstand the tremor in his voice.

Steppo nodded and watched the youth slink away, as he quietly muttered to himself:

"Even so, it may not be enough."

He then stood carefully while the word got around, but was forced to stop short just before straightening as a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to grit his teeth in sudden agony. His spine appeared more than dissatisfied with his exertions so far, and he couldn't really say that he blamed it. He'd dashed out the back gate of his father's estate as soon as he was gone, run to the Liberty Pies and Pool's Second Adjacent Headquarters on the outskirts of the merchants' district, taken Soupy the Terevansian powder mare from her stall and set off at a grueling pace on the direct route to Tzeru, crisscrossing fields and hillocks galore, not a properly maintained road in sight.

Fortunately, Soupy seemed to have fared far better than him, and she was currently being tended by a junior member of their organization, along with the handful of other trainees they'd elected to keep out of the official hunting grounds. Truth be told, Steppo had more hope than conviction that he would be able to get in with the entourage he did have, but that was the risk he'd chosen to take so that the men would get some first-hand experience.

They filed out onto the main road after they'd checked that the real servants had gone and no one was coming up behind them. About half of them went to retrieve the previously mentioned wagons from a half-hidden crevice, demonstrating their force as they lifted the heavy wooden frames and lifted them to other awaiting hands. Canvas tarps and straw mats were passed around to cover the groups of men that had clambered in the back, playing at being lifeless supplies. A few others moved to pull the carts forward, as would have been necessary if they'd suddenly found themselves without draft animals to do the heavy lifting.

Steppo watched the proceedings with mounting worry. As his fellow liberty fighters put themselves together and formed a neat column of seemingly ordinary retainers, Steppo couldn't help but notice that even with a decent number of them being hidden in the carts, they were still far too many to be believed. Doubtless, some of them had realized this as well and were beginning to shift around uncomfortably.

Forty-two. That's how many Steppo had been confident in bringing along, amounting to more or less the entire active fighting force of their organization. These men weren't half-wits, no matter how much the snobs inside the palace might scrunch up their noses if they saw them. They were honest, hard-working, passionate patriots, who knew the value of a job well done, as well as the fact that reaching the desired result often demanded sacrifice. There was therefore no point in hiding himself from them.

Addi was busy directing a group of stevedores from the city's docks district, and flinched visibly when Steppo murmured in his ear:

"I think we need to reconsider our strategy."

"What?"

The poor young man sounded winded, no doubt exhausted from the excessive worrying he'd done over the leading role to which Steppo had appointed him. He'd arranged for the lending of the carts from the Small Merchants' Association, synchronized the men so that they could arrive in time at Tzeru, and agreed to play the temporary role of harried caravan-leader as Steppo's second-in-command.

Despite his unwavering dedication to the cause and willingness to improve on what he saw as personal shortcomings, Addi had a difficult time convincing Steppo that he didn't feel at all relieved upon being informed that he would no longer be required to speak to any of the palace staff in order to lend plausibility to their story.

"I think this might be for the best," finished Steppo. "I know we increase the risk of discovery, but it might be a good opportunity to test the scouting team."

"We have maybe four people in that squad," whispered Addi, "and half of those we've left back with the horses."

Steppo shrugged, as if that fact couldn't possibly constitute an actual hurdle.

"Maybe after today we'll get a few more enthusiasts," he said hopefully. Louder still, he continued addressing their fellow brothers-in-arms. "We need a good dozen of you to accompany Addi on the alternative route. This will likely involve treacherous terrain, cutting branches and avoidance at all costs of any human interactions outside the members of your own company. Please consider stepping forward only if you believe this to be a worthwhile experience for the development of your particular skill set."

As several of their fellows almost trampled each other to make that approximate twelve by gathering in a tight circle around Addi and Steppo, the ladder leaned closer to the former and inquired in a low voice:

"Have you got the map?"

"Of course not, you said no paper trail. But I've got it memorized."

Steppo felt a rare warmth blooming in his chest and couldn't keep from smiling.

It must have been a form of pride, far purer than what Attari preachers warned against, since it stemmed outside of one's own self. Steppo looked forward to the day when he'd feel comfortable letting his troops follow through with the plan and manage to do so without him getting involved at all. Yes, it seemed that the highest compliment he could receive was not being needed.

"Meet us at the edge of the estate by the second trout stream."

Addi frowned in concentration, his gaze growing distant as he envisioned the layout of the estate.

"Behind the kitchen sheds at the back of the main house?"

"That's the one."

"But... wouldn't there be people?"

"Mostly servants who'll doubtless be too busy to question our presence. The guests and their devotees will entertain themselves by loitering around the pavilion square."

Addi nodded slowly as he followed Steppo's directions, no doubt imagining himself tracing the landmarks on the actual map.

"And then we'll traverse the small glade to reach the thicket on the northern side which is higher up on the incline and will give us a better vantage point."

Definitely pride. Steppo felt his eyes grow moist and had to blink quickly against the encroaching tears.

"You've got it just right. May we reunite in short order and good health."

The young man snapped to attention, swiftly followed by the rest of their gathered troops, whose excitement was almost palpable. As he watched them disappear further into the woods, Steppo consciously fought against his own fears. He tried reassuring himself, since he knew each man personally, that they were capable and ready, but if he kept on coddling them in the training center instead of taking them out to be properly tested, they'd never progress at the rate both he and them desired. The time had come for them to discover whether he'd been a good enough teacher and whether they had what it took to survive in a situation with relatively low stakes.

"Just don't get caught," murmured Steppo, then turned around to face the men who'd elected to stick with the initial plan - the vast majority of them. They were no less brave than the ones who'd taken off with Addi, and Steppo felt the responsibility settle in on his shoulders. It seemed they weren't the only ones being tested today.

In the silence that had settled over their group, the echoes of voices and approaching vehicles caused ripples of unease and they all turned to glance worriedly down the forest trail. The next convoy would be upon them before they had time to retreat back into the undergrowth, so there was nothing else to be done now but forge ahead.

Steppo took a deep breath, for the first time allowing himself to appreciate the crisp fresh air so far removed from the heady vapors of the capital. As a ghost of a smile played at his lips, he silently gestured towards the men and they fell back into their neat positions, the ones at the front of the column stepping forward with the two loaded carts lumbering in their wake. Steppo trotted out ahead, then resumed a dignified pace in time for the guards at the estate gates to catch sight of him.

He neither slowed down, nor hesitated as he approached them, even while covertly assessing the sturdy fence neither of his troops had any hope of scaling. Fortunately, he knew the structure didn't stretch far into the forest, instead being replaced with regular patrols Addi and his followers should have no trouble dodging.

"Blessings be upon you on this most glorious of days!" he called out cheerfully.

There were only two guards in sight, as well as a thin, bespectacled fellow with a wad of papers resting on his forearm, but Steppo suspected that reinforcements would arrive swiftly from the barracks visible just beyond the gates should their discussion turn sour. Both guards cast dubious looks at his approaching entourage, but it was the other man who took the lead, frowning down at his papers.

"Good day to you as well, Sir..."

"Lord Steppano Sebek, first-born and heir of a distinguished family devoted heart and soul to His Majesty's rule - may Attari see him through victory on every battlefield."

The clerk blinked up at him, then frowned some more and turned back to his list, furiously turning page after page. Steppo consciously let his shoulders loosen and worked up a pleasant smile to plaster on his tension-riddled features while he continued prattling on as if he had nary a worry in this world - and certainly no guilty conscience.

"We would have come sooner, of course, but some last-minute requests made it necessary for us to bolster our numbers." He dropped his voice in a mock-conspiratorial whisper: "There's talk of strikes among the workers and Father would not run the risk of being left without retainers."

The clerk's head snapped up again, regarding Steppo with obvious disbelief.

"Minister Sebek had no other retainers enlisted into the official records apart from Captain Efandico and yourself."

It took considerable effort for Steppo not to frown back upon hearing that other man's name. Some vague memory coalesced into an overwhelming feeling of wrongness and he knew he wouldn't be getting any rest until he deciphered its exact cause. However, that wasn't likely to happen immediately, as these things tended to just pop into one's mind when one least expected them, so it would have been fruitless to insist on it now. Instead, he widened his grin and directed his best impression of friendliness at the skeptical man, all the while choosing to ignore the growing unease of the two armed guards as they watched the rest of the "servants" draw to a halt behind him.

"Of course he didn't, it would have been a regular hassle to modify the list each time we made another addition. We only had an approximation of how many men we could reasonably expect, and given that the last request came from the royal quarters, we were obliged to expand our numbers until the last possible minute." He gestured towards the sizable group behind him. "Even as you see us, we run the very likely risk of being short-handed."

"Forgive me," interrupted the clerk, "but what exactly are these requests that you are referring to? We have made it perfectly clear that every guest has to be duly registered up until three days before the event itself, which means-"

Steppo let out a strategic chuckle, cutting the man short and prompting him to stare at him in astonishment.

"As you can undoubtedly see," said Steppo, gesturing towards the increasingly nervous group behind him, "they are laborers. Additional help, if you will, considering the surplus of actual guests coming through today. They might proclaim themselves avid hunters, but I just think they're here for the ladies."

His conspiratorial wink only served to further unsettle the public official, who found himself unable to decide between demanding more explanations and dismissing him out of hand. Steppo knew that the ladder option was unavailable, since a noble of his standing couldn't simply be ushered away, but he couldn't run the risk of the man refusing entry to his troops.

"Look," he went on in what he hoped was a sufficiently conciliatory tone, "I can go through and fetch Father so you can check with him, but then I'll have to personally refer you when complaints are made about us being late, since I will not have the workers' day wages deducted due to bureaucratic procedures they have no control over."

Just as the clerk opened his mouth to argue, one of the guards came forward and plucked at his sleeve, directing his attention towards the chokehold that was rapidly forming around them. Turning around, Steppo could see that the convoy behind them had settled in to wait for admittance while an ornate carriage was making its way around the final bend in the road, accompanied by half a dozen liveried riders.

"Alright," huffed the clerk, handing half of his papers to the guard and whipping out a pencil as he turned to a blank page. "I want the name of every man stepping through these gates, as well as the district they hail from."

Smiling, Steppo reached within his vest pocket and retrieved a carefully folded piece of paper, then handed it over to the befuddled clerk.

"This is the updated list as of last night. We've had a couple of additions this morning as well, but I'll make sure to point them out for you as they come through."

The guard found himself burdened with the other half of the original stack of papers as the clerk took Steppo's list and unfolded it curiously.

"...two, three, four assistant fishing porters?" he asked incredulously, staring at the rows of fake names Steppo had spent the better part of an hour coming up with.

"It seems that a few lord-heirs have a wager going on and will be too preoccupied at the trout stream to attend to the hunt." He shrugged casually, willing the man not to press him any further. "We could hardly refuse them."

"Of course," muttered the clerk, skimming down the page with worrying attention.

Steppo gestured subtly for his men to start moving forward, while his heart stammered wildly in his chest, waiting for something to go wrong. Roughly five minutes later, however, nothing had, and no one was more surprised than Steppo himself that they'd actually managed to pull off this essential first step.

"Attari preserve us," he muttered as he moved down the side path towards the auxiliary buildings, his troubled troops close behind.

If they actually managed to succeed all the way, he'd have to reward them with the biggest celebratory feast Liberty Pies and Pools had ever known.

As for himself, he'd probably settle for shutting himself in his room and planning out their next steps. The fact that he would have the luxury of thinking about the future was currently just enough to keep him going.