They were guided through a courtyard and then through the first of multiple interior walls. Inside that first wall they were turned left and guided to what appeared to be a smaller castle within the castle. In front of that stood a woman in a dress, one of the few Michael had seen since they arrived in Stent. She was middle aged with high cheekbones and blue eyes that were made brighter by the cerulean dress she wore.

  She curtsied a bit as Shreve arrived and he gave a slight bow in return.

  “Viscountess Nyda, it’s good to see you again,” said Shreve with a smile.

  “And you as well Baron. I hope that your trip went smoothly?”

  “It did. I don’t think I even saw a single dark cloud.”

  “Perhaps all of your misfortune was waiting for you here?”

  “I don’t see how that could be possible with one such as you being the first to greet me. There’s no world in which seeing you would be bad luck.”

  She chuckled lightly. “Flatterer.”

  “It’s not flattery if it’s true Viscountess.”

  She shook her head, still smiling. “You’re familiar with these diplomat quarters,” she said gesturing to the castle which the soldiers carrying the bags were already loading goods into.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Make sure that your bodyguards and assistants don’t violate curfew or go anywhere unattended.” She frowned. “We don’t want an incident like last time.”

  Shreve’s face stayed impassive, but Michael detected a subtle shift in his bearing. “I will make sure.”

  She nodded. “King Matthias himself has agreed to a meeting with you personally.”

  “That’s a surprise. I was expecting intermediaries.”

  “Oh there will be plenty of those as well, but he has agreed to a personal audience with you in one week. It is too late today of course, and the rest of the week is busy, especially with the gala tomorrow. You are, of course, invited, as is your retinue.”

  “Please pass my thanks for the invitation to the King, we’d be honored to attend.”

  “Of course,” said Nyda. “I was hoping you would be able to join me for some tea while your people get settled in.”

  “I would greatly appreciate that, as long as it's not too far a walk. It’s been a long day of travel.”

  “Of course, we can have it in the parlor here if you’d like.”

  With that, and all the bags conveniently loaded into the miniature castle in front of them, as soon as the two were done talking, they all walked inside. The outside was harsh gray and gave the impression of being a military building, and the inside gave the same impression. The entryway was spartan, as was the parlor off of it. There were tables, chairs, all the necessities, but almost no decoration. Perhaps a diplomat visiting longer term would be expected to decorate the space themselves, or just as likely it was simply another indication of where Stent’s focus lay.

  While the viscountess and Shreve went to the parlor for tea, the rest of them filed up the stairs to find where their bags had been placed. Michael and Marcus had been given their own rooms, with beds, writing desks, and a set of drawers. Pyotr and Ollie had been placed in the same room, the one directly next to Shreves, and had their own beds and drawers, but no writing desk. They all took the time to make sure that nothing was missing from their bags, and to place their weapons and armor where they’d be able to easily access them if needed.

  Once he was settled Michael took a moment to sit on the bed and look around. He’d been being spoiled since he’d arrived in King Marlo’s palace. He was starting to get used to the idea of sleeping in a bed with a room to himself. Years of shared quarters or tents had made that feel like a tremendous luxury.

  He heard a light knock on his door and looked at it. He didn’t even need to activate his Eyes of Love ability to know that it wasn’t any of his friends. None of them would knock, and he would’ve heard it if Shreve had come up the stairs. He grabbed Rend and walked calmly toward the door, readying a barrier in front of his vitals in case it was needed.

  Stolen story; please report.

  He opened the door and saw that it was Bayle. He didn’t even look up at Michael as he wrote something in the black book he was holding.

  Michael lowered his sword, holding it loose but ready in his hand.

  “Welcome back to Stent,” he said. “The viscountess has already left, so this is a good time to review the plan and prepare for next steps. Gather the others and meet me in the parlor.”

  “I was seen by someone who knows me,” said Michael quickly.

  “Who?” asked Bayle, his full attention suddenly on him.

  “Meera. She was the diviner that taught me at the academy. She used Eyes of Judgement on us, but let us through.”

  Bayle untensed a bit. “Good. She’s one of ours. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Many of the men and women involved in our coup had interacted with you in the past. In some ways you’ve been my best recruiter even since you left.”

  Michael frowned, not sure of how to respond to that.

  “I’ll see you in the parlor,” said Bayle, opening his black book and adding another note as he walked toward the steps.

  Michael knocked on Pyotr and Ollie’s door.

  “Can’t a man lay down for a moment?” asked Ollie as heavy footfalls made their way to the door which opened to show Pyotr, not Ollie, actually answering it.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Bayle’s here. Wants to meet us downstairs.”

  “You know that bastard always seemed to know when I had just laid down back at the fort too,” said Ollie, pulling on his hat and grabbing his staff.

  Michael turned toward Marcus’s door to see that he was already walking out of it.

  “I heard. Bayle’s here. Meet downstairs. Blah blah, let’s go.”

  The four of them went downstairs to the parlor where Bayle and Shreve were both sipping on tea.

  Once they were all seated as well, Bayle cleared his throat.

  “You’ll be killing the king during the audience in five days,” said Bayle, in the same tone one might use when discussing the weather. “I have a distraction planned that will remove most of his usual guards, not that I think you’d have much trouble with that. You don’t need to be subtle, or clever. You can smash the throne, destroy doors, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re in the room with him, everything else will begin moving at once. It’ll be all or nothing at that point.”

  “I don’t think subtlety is our strong suit anyway,” said Pyotr with a smile.

  “I remember you all being surprisingly capable at infiltration, but perhaps we were simply lucky at the fort,” responded Bayle, straightening his mustache. “Today and tomorrow the focus will be blending in. Shreve has created a list of tasks for each of you to take care of in order to better blend in until the Gala. Drafting documents, requesting paper, that sort of thing. During the Gala itself,” he looked at Michael. “I’ll need your help.”

  “Does someone need to be healed?” he asked, knowing that wouldn’t be the case.

  “The worst thing those at the Gala need to be concerned about is gout. No, I have become aware of your abilities. You can detect the bonds between people as well as the evils they’ve committed, correct?”

  “Yes…” replied Michael, wondering how he could’ve determined that. He’d certainly demonstrated the abilities freely, but aside from his friends he didn’t think he’d explained them aloud to anyone. Probably just him coming to the conclusion based on what he’d seen other diviners manage.

  “There are going to be a number of very important and powerful people at the gala. People whose loyalties I’m unsure of, or who I think can be swayed with the correct bit of blackmail or coercion. With what you can discover and the week until the audience with the king, we should be able to make some real progress.”

  “Or you get burned and the king catches on,” said Shreve, sipping his tea.

  “The more people in on something like this, the more chances there are for a fuck up,” agreed Marcus.

  Bayle smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t need to tell everyone you’re having an open rebellion. You find one man who is sympathetic to the soldiers in revolt and convince him to send them food. You find another who's sleeping with one of the king’s favorites and you blackmail them into giving you coin. You use that coin to bribe guards who you tell to make themselves scarce and tell nothing else. You yourself only need to sit in the center of the web and weave it as you need. Conspiracies are manageable, if you’re smart about them.”

  Shreve placed his cup down. “And what parts of the web aren’t we seeing?” he asked with a slight smile.

  “Only the ones that don’t involve you. You will receive what’s promised as long as everything goes smoothly.”

  “We better,” replied Michael, small divine flames flickering across him. “Or else I’ll keep killing your kings until you make good.”

  Bayle’s smile didn’t move. “Let’s focus on getting the first one out of the way.” He began to pull a number of small papers from his coat and lay them out, when there was a knock on the door.

  Everyone exchanged glances.

  “No one was expecting anyone?” asked Bayle, looking at Shreve.

  “No.”

  Bayle began to grab the papers and quickly return them to his jacket.

  Shreve looked at Michael. “As my assistant you and a bodyguard would normally answer the door.”

  Michael nodded, and Pyotr took his place next to him as they approached the door. He grabbed the handle and opened the door.

  In front of him stood Tain. The young son of a duke that he’d fought in the festival of blades more than two years prior. The last he’d seen of him, he’d been cradling his brother's severed hand as he retreated from a battle. He was covered in new scars, his eyes hollow, and the cruel twist to his features replaced with a kind of emptiness.

  Those empty eyes widened as he saw Michael.