It takes the rest of the day to introduce some order into the mess that we created. Oliver naturally finds himself in command, and nobody thinks to question his authority. The soldiers who pledge their loyalty to us are allowed to remain in the castle, and new ones join them in their barracks.

The sounds of celebration coming from the city are so loud that they can be heard even inside the castle walls. The yard if full of people, and the gates are open for everyone. At first, Oliver makes attempts to prevent the plunder of the castle, but eventually, he gives up and allows the looters have their way.

"You deserved it," he shouts, standing on the huge wine barrel rolled out of the kitchen. "Today is your day! Enjoy it!"

The roar of approval greeting his words is almost deafening. Servants mix with the crowd. There are rumors that some nobles have been found hiding in the castle and have been slayed and their women raped, but Oliver chooses to turn deaf ear and forbids me to investigate.

"Let them have a taste of their own medicine," he says. "Tomorrow, there will be new law, new order, but tonight, let people enjoy the spoils of war."

I spend the rest of the evening in the barracks helping to organize the garrison. We need to make sure that everybody knows their place and their responsibilities in case of an attack, but people keep slipping in and out of the barracks and it's hard to make them follow orders in this atmosphere of celebration.

It's almost dark when Oliver walks into the barracks where he's greeted heartily by the soldiers.

"Are you drunk yet?" he shouts. "What are you waiting for? We have cracked the royal wine cellar, go get your share!"

I have barely a second to step aside before the crowd tumbles outside. Laughing, Oliver catches me by the sleeve and pulls me after them.

"Thank you very much," I say. "I was only beginning to get somewhere with them. Drinking is the last thing they need right now."

"It's been a long day," he says. "We all need to unwind. How do you like your new clothes?" It was him who had them brought to me, insisting we should all dress for the occasion.

"Not so much." The elaborate outfit completed with new leather boots feels strange on me, even though the fabric is soft against my skin and the size is perfect. I prefer not to think of the fact that it probably belonged to one of the nobles who'd been slayed today. It was only after I had put it on that I noticed the blood stain on the collar.

"You were never good in enjoying the little pleasures of life," he says, patting me on the back. "Now if you don't drink with us, go to your chambers and unwind in some other way."

"My chambers?"

"The Eastern Tower. The room that had been Hadrian's? It's now yours."

I frown at this. Everything is happening too fast. Not only we are wearing the dead men's clothes, we are now supposed to live in their chambers? I never wanted to live in a castle.

"It's temporary," says Oliver leading me through the yard, occasionally smiling and nodding at the men who shout greetings and raise their cups and goblets at him. "Tomorrow, we will begin the real work. We will elect a government, set new laws, appoint new judges. This night is for celebrating—and settling old scores."

He stops by the archway leading to the Eastern Tower hallway, searches inside of his pocket and pulls out a key.

"Have fun," he says, placing it in my hand, "but remember—I want his face recognizable." He winks at me before turning away and heading towards a group of drunken peasants shouting some obscene song.

The noises sound muffled inside the tower. I get to the third floor by the winding staircase I've been using as a servant, before I remember that I could have used use the main entrance now. Not that it matters. I push the door, then remember the key and stick it into the keyhole. Then, I pause. There's little doubt whom I will encounter in the room. There's way more doubt about what I'm going to do next. After all the events of the day, my head feels empty, my emotions drained to the bottom. I don't feel neither anger nor joy. I'm tired. The truth is, I don't want to enter this room. Yet what choice do I have?

I push the door and step inside.

At first, the room seems empty and, compared to the rest of the castle, relatively undamaged. Nothing is broken or torn, and there is fire crackling in the fireplace and two torches burning on the wall. The window is half open, the black sky behind it dotted with stars.

I close the door behind me.

The movement comes from my left side—my blind side—and yet I do catch it, perhaps by the stir of the air, or the sudden flickering of the torch light. I turn in time to see a dark shadow dart from the corner and notice the light glimmer on the metal object raised in the air, aimed at me.

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