"What I had not come to notice yet, was that my uncle was already right... It didn't matter to me, if the child, if you, were mine by blood or not. Call me a liar if I did not confess that while I was away on this mission, there were times I'd even pray for you to be the King's. If only so that Eliza and I could continue to exist in the way we always had. It was not as if I did not wish you were my own... I had that battle with myself, as well. Often, when I would lie awake. It was, one day, I realized, simply... that you were an extension of your mother. I knew I would love you regardless of the odds. I already did love you regardless of the odds, because I loved your mother," I said. I cleared my throat. "But. You were but a tiny thought. No physical proof of you existed yet besides a lack of blood, and I had many things pressing on my mind that Summer and Fall."

Svana's daughter was sleeping. She took a moment to gather her thoughts; a rare occurrence for me to witness. "...My mother was a very lucky woman," she decided. "To have a man so devoutly hers. Even after all these years. Not many men can love another's child so easily."

"Then they are not men, or they are not in love," I sang.

"How long were you gone this time? I've never heard you talk about this mission!" She laughed, no doubt trying to lift the mood for us. "A right Knight you were!"

"...I was gone... For four months and twenty eight and half days. Or a hundred and fifty one, if you do the math."

"That's more precise than I expected to get out of you..." She bit her lip.

"Well, I had time to count," I grinned. "And I didn't tell you about this trip because..."

"Listen, Eli. You don't have to tell me about it now, about anything, if it's too much."

"Well we're in it already... Aren't we? No. I've told you this much. So. Where was I?" I leaned back. "Ah. Right. The War... War changes a man," I said.

"But the War didn't actually start until Winter?" she asked. "Was it not early December?"

"By official transcripts, yes. But this was a feud that had began long before this journey. December is just the date our historians picked."

"So ominous."

"The reasons for such an act as war are never bound to the surface, I hope you'll never find. They run deep, like jagged roots, and your father was... Willing to tear the whole plant out, rather than treat its sickness."

In every other town, Uncle would leave us for a fraction of the day. He'd come back with new directions, sometimes nothing at all, just 'stay the course.' Until one afternoon, his whole demeanor had soured. He was different; something had rattled him.

He didn't speak of it, we only kept on.

"I trust you've taken care of that detail I asked you to," Ser Dalton said, trekking beside me. He used a loose branch to clear the path from fallen weeds, discarded by the years of neglect Oreia had given it. This was an old road no one but their dead fathers knew about anymore.

We'd been on it for a few days, but between the scarce, in-the-moment, information dumps about our intentions in Chalke, and the basic needs of travel or socializing with the present company, Dalton hadn't found the chance to corner me until now. I'd naively hoped he wouldn't bring Eliza up by fear of outing her; me; consequently himself, to the King. We weren't alone, after all.

But Linen had jogged on ahead to scout for us. He was the smallest of our trio; moved far quieter, and we needed to cross the border without error, which required the discovery of an unmanned entry. We'd already bypassed a few this week that held too many eyes. His Majesty was apparently very insistent that no one see us go in. Even our own countrymen.

"Sure," I offered, though it was half-felt and an obvious sort of lie. Even I knew that.

"Good," he said anyway. "Because if you had not—"

"—If I had not; then what?" I let my brows dance above their natural line, wetting my lips. "Then what?"

"Then I would be injured," he said.

"What injury would you sustain, Uncle? Surely you are not jousting anytime soon. You forget it's my head on the line."

"A personal one. I'd know you do not trust my experience."

Luckily our third returned before the conversation sparked into a blaze.

"There's nothing," he said, catching his breath. He'd run back to us. "The fort is still abandoned. Even on our side. We ought to have it staffed when we get back."

"Aye," Ser Dalton said, but his affirmation to the idea was lazy. "When we get back."

We ate what we could forage or kill with our blades, but if I didn't mention it before, we were not equipped for much else. Dalton had instructed us to leave our armor behind and to take only our long swords and daggers in our boots. 'This was not the kind of quest that required the whole Calvary,' he'd joked, but the truth was that a full suit of shiny Oreian Bronze would draw far too much attention to us. We wore nothing else that bore the Eisson Mare, not even our gloves, to be safe.

Uncle said everything we would want for, would be provided for us along the way. So we ate mostly rabbits and berries that we could fashion into a paste. It was like having Christmas dinner, every two days, if said dinner were prepared by three miserable cooks that knew nothing of creating recipes or complimenting flavors.

And it was worse, because by the second month, we reeked, but I digress.

We hit the outline of Rothingham in mid-November. The streets were lively, a gleam that Ísfjall had once possessed but lost now, perhaps stolen by this empire itself. The people who frolicked from stall to stall, over cobblestone, were worlds away from any thought of coming gloom. They were happy.

They prepared for the holiday season, hand in hand with little ones. Friends. Families. Lovers.

There was a band, playing on the street corner, just south of the Palace. Their music was brilliant; it was bright. They sang of a gifted son; a blessing to House Azarii, who had apparently suffered a succession of three losses before their Queen had finally produced the heir. It was old enough of a song, that random faces knew its lyrics, and you could see the pride in their smiles. It was hard not to be joyful for the nation for it; for the Lady herself.

Our cultures were different, but it was the differences that made for vibrancy, I thought in that square. I wanted to one day bring Eliza here, to dance with her in the Town Centre. But. In the middle of my daydream, Dalton stalked away.

He slunk off into an alley, I don't know where, but when the two of us heard his stray whistle, though mostly muted by the festive song in the air, Linen and I followed it. We met with our commander near the large wall that encircled the grounds.

"The gate is always open," he said quietly.

He didn't use his fingers to point; he kept his focus on us the entire time, even smiled. I knew this look. He was trying to maintain an act that all was well, should anyone be watching us, though no one here in Chalke seemed particularly interested in three traveling men.

"We'll meet in this precise location just before sunrise in two days time."

"For what?" I asked.

Linen struck my arm playfully. "Not a term in second and he's already bucking against the boss?" he teased.

"I'm not bucking?" I said.

He nodded. "That or he's dumb. Maybe I should've taken the promotion, eh?"

"What are you–?" I started.

"It's not the perfect plan, no, but obviously Ser Dalton needs time to gather supplies."

My uncle barely looked at him. "Make yourself scarce until then. Don't stay together. No one talks either. To each other or the locals. Understood?"

"Right."

"No. Wait. What?" I jerked my head.

"Oi, he said we'll be meeting back here and not to–"

"No, I know what he said, Linen." I paused. "What's right? What supplies? Why are we meeting here in two days time? Have I missed something?"

"You've missed nothing," Uncle said. "You've followed exactly as I have told you."

"...You said this was an intel quest."

"Candy," Linen chucked. "Come?"

"I did," Dalton nodded. "And it is. In a way."

"Oh, I see," the other groaned.

"...Are we here for some other reason?" I hissed.

"You didn't tell him?" Linen cracked.

Ser Dalton gave a single look to the other Blade, who immediately shut his mouth. He bobbed his head, taking it as a sign to venture off from us, and as Dalton flipped on his boot; he started walking. Calmly, in another direction, further down the city street, but still out of range of the ears around us.

I stepped after him. "Why are we here, Uncle?" I pried. His eyes told me to keep it down. I tried again, whispering. "What happens in two days?"

"This is not the time or place for this discussion," he said. "My advice is to find rest. You'll need it."

"Not the–" I grabbed his arm. "This is the time and place if any! You've lured me out here on the promise that this will be a quick trip, here and back."

"I never promised you that."

"If there is something that I must be informed of–?"

"You know what I tell you, when I tell you it."

"How can I lead effectively if–?"

"You expect to lead?" he laughed.

"I am your second. I expect one day, yes. I will."

"I chose you as my second not because I believed you could replace me, but because I believed you could follow," he sang. "As far as leading, you're not even the best to do it. Nor do I expect you to. That's why I've left another in third." There was a venom in his voice; he was holding something more.

"Because you don't intend to fall? Or because you don't intend for me to return?"

"I don't intend for either of us to. Certainly not Linen. We are entering a battle, Gregor. Can you not feel it? There is a shift in the air. Of course not, you're too green."

"The War hasn't started," I said.

"You'll be lucky to see the other side of it. No, not lucky. Touched by God. Only His hand will see us through the night to come."

"Through the—!?" I felt my jaw tighten. "When you're done insulting me, answer the question. If I am to die, I deserve to know what for. What happens in two days?!"

"In two days, you, I, and Linen will find ourselves over there," he glanced. "In the agreed upon spot. By then, I will have the things we need to complete His Majesty's order."

"...And what is his order? Are we to murder Chalke's King?" I asked.

"Ha!"

"You laugh, in my face. In the face of mur–"

"—You wanted this life," he told me. "You wanted to be a Knight. Do you not remember begging me?"

"A Knight protects. He honors. He serves!"

"He serves his King." His voice was too steady. "He doesn't screw his King's wife; defile their vows. Do not lecture me on what a Knight is or isn't, Greg."

I scoffed. "The King defiles his own vows, he doesn't need me for that."

"Watch that tongue," he ordered. "Someone might hear you. His Majesty will have it cut out."

"By your obedient hand, I'd wager," I dared. "Or did the King injure Ser Erik himself?"

"I helped him, yes."

"Then cut it out of me already! What are we waiting for?" I spat.

"Be glad I picked you for this," Dalton said. "Then you may die before anyone learns of—"

"—I am so sorry to hear your opinion is so small of me."

"I thought you would be happy to serve."

"A willingness to serve does not mean blindly following into Death. This is not service. This is not Godly. I do not like it."

"If you liked it, you wouldn't be a Knight."

"It feels wrong."

"His Majesty is never wro–"

"Isn't he?" I said. "Knights are sworn to fight fairly. Not lurk and attack unprovoked. If anything, we should be strategizing politically, not— doing whatever the King says because he is the King."

"You're wrong, Gregor."

"I suppose if he ordered us to mow down a flock of school children, innocence at its core, in the name of the War, you would argue he was still just?"

Dalton was silent. Unwavering.

"...Do not tell me he wishes us to..." I was sick. "Does he want us to kill the child?"

"If it does not sit right with you, you may defect. But this is what it means to serve the Crown. I will tell His Majesty you fell, but you may never return to Oreia."

I bit. "Now you think I am a coward?"

"There is no cowardice in humanity, but Knights do not have the luxury of such things. They are tools. Blades. A necessary evil."

"They should never be evil of any sort! We are what stands between the Crown, the people and evil! We aren't just the Blade, but the Shield!"

"You have beautiful ideals, my son. But they are nothing more than dreams. It's time to wake up."

"What happened to you?" I begged. "Why would you even agree to this? How could you think I was the right man for—"

"If it's any comfort, the order came last night. I did not come into this thinking you would be right for anything beyond what I said. To follow me. I've not kept the true request long from you."

I muttered. "You told Linen before me."

"I did."

"We can't do this," I begged. "Do you not hear the music I do? You cannot kill this child, he is the core of this nation's hope."

"Two days," he said. "I must leave you now. We'll draw attention soon. If you do not arrive, I'll understand."

"Uncle," I caught his arm. "The King is wrong. You know he is. We cannot kill the boy. He does us no harm. He is no threat. He is no equal."

"We strike the heart." He blinked, rapidly a few times, then no more. "We strike the heart to stop the threat."

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