Caleb greeted us as we exited the armory. Bernie waved to him then jumped out the open window, running along the castle walls with spiderclimb.

  “Ah, so you found Redeemer!” he said. “A fine sword, though the +3 bonus is a little shabby pared to— well, it’s a fine sword. Ah! And a bag of holding. Very iing.”

  “Thank you for yifts,” I said. Rachel agreed.

  “I like to give them, though I usually let you pi your own. Being in the room when people put their hands on my things makes my skin crawl.”

  “Oh,” I said, “I didn’t know.”

  Caleb spped me on the back.

  “Nonsense! ’t be the Prophesied Heroes without the firepower to back it up. Is that my wife’s bow?”

  “This one?” I said holding up Provoker.

  “It’s for children,” he said.

  “I mean, I only have a 12 strength.”

  “Ah. Then it’s perfect!”

  Cal stood there waiting. It became obvious he was waiting for something. Why was he here in the first pce?

  My first thought became that this was all a ploy to get close to Caleb, get close to the king. Maybe Cal art of the spies. Maybe we’d brought him close to the exact person he wao be close to.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb began, “my personal armory ot afford to arm all that deserve it. Did you visit the armorer downstairs? He's sidered by many the fi bowmaker on the ti, and we have many finely crafted elven longbows.”

  “I don’t want your shit,” Cal said.

  The guards hands went to their swords. Caleb held a hand up.

  “I am not sure I heard you, son. You want to run that by me again?”

  “I’m sorry,” Cal stammered. “I didn’t mean. Ugh. I’ve gone over this versation so many times in my head, and this isn’t w the way I want.”

  “Be out with it.”

  “My friends call me Cal, but my mother named me Caleb.”

  “Not so unon a hese days,” the king said.

  “Not so on 28 years ago,” Cal said. “She named me after my father.”

  King Caleb’s eyes narrowed.

  Cal shrugged.

  “You are my father.”

  King Caleb ughed nervously.

  “It’s true,” Cal said.

  “You make a jest,” the King said. “You two,” he poio the guards. “Lock the armory and leave. There is no dao me in my own home.”

  The guards did as they were told. Soon, it was just me, Rachel, Braelyn, Caleb, and Cal.

  Caleb turo me.

  “Did you know about this?”

  “I had no idea,” I said.

  “It makes sense, now,” Rachel offered. “But I also was in the dark.”

  “You are not the first boy to e to me with stories like this,” Caleb said, suddenly very serious, and stepping closer to the Ranger. “But I do not find them funny.”

  “I don’t think it very fuher,” Cal said.

  Power and violence coiled in the king. I worried, for a moment, he would sh out at the Ranger. If he did, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I liked Cal, but he wasn’t a king. And if I had to choose who I trusted more to get us out of here…

  “Who is your mother?” the king asked, cooling. He was suddenly softer, but still regal and businesslike.

  “Aeliana, of the Afon-Alum. She was a ranger. She said you only stayed a week.”

  Braelyn typed ie, furiously.

  “I remember her,” Caleb said, jaw sck with surprise. He rubbed his salt and pepper beard. “She was beautiful.”

  “Aye,” Cal said, “was. Goblin attack at the bridge. She fought them off, but succumbed to poison.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “I was just 14 when that happened. And every week I returned, crossed the bridge where she died just to catch a glimpse of you.”

  “The Kingswood is too dangerous for me…” Suddenly the King’s eyes were far away, to aime. Then, he refocused on Cal. “Sit and talk. I make no promises to believe you. Though I find no fw in your tale just yet. And you must know that this accusation holds danger for the both of us. Braelyn?”

  “Your majesty.”

  “Get us a bottle of wine, and clear your schedule. I’ll need records of our versation.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I don’t want your wine,” Cal said.

  “Oh it’s not for you,” the king said. “If even half of what you say is true, I’ll need a drink.”

  Rachel and I followed Braelyn doweps.

  “You think it could be true?” Rachel asked her.

  “You are not to speak of this to anyone, but Bere.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Sure,” Rachel said.

  “I think it is pusible. The king was a man in his twenties when he arrived here, and elven women are sidered very beautiful to other folk. Would he be so careful in his early days as a hero?”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “We will speak of this ter, when I guarantee less ears,” Braelyn said.

  We parted ways at the bottom floor.

  Rachel filled me in on my goals for the day, which were: get info on who amongst the staff could potentially be bckmailed or bought off. I was to search for ahat pined e debts, that maybe didn’t pin muymore, or ahat had suddenly found themselves with a sudden windfall. I could also keep a for ahat had joihe staff retly, but since Caleb had been an enemy of so many for so long, they could have been embedded a very long time ago.

  Bere’s current w theory of the situation was that the Throne of Light wao scuttle the ret peace talks between the Kingswood and Caleb. The timing poio Throne agents, and the method, poison, excluded the Orcs oblins. Caleb’s old enemies hadn’t made a move on him in decades, and sidered such methods beh them.

  Before we parted ways, I asked Rachel who had beearget of these attacks.

  “Well,” she said, taking a bite of cheese as we walked, “only two people at the castle got got so far. The first was an advisor to the king, Randilion the Bard, drank from a poisoned bottle of wihat killed him before anybody could figure out what kind of poison. The sed,” here she looked around to see if anyone was watg, “the sed was a wife of one of the Princes, Harmony — human girl, daughter of a looble, oeen. Because of the previous poisoning, they were able to get her an antidote. She’s been in a a for weeks now.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel tiaking an even bigger bite and talking as she chewed, “it’s a freaking tragedy. Pels, Caleb’s middle son, is on his way now. It was a love matbsp; Apparently they were the talk of the city.”

  “If they were so loved, why isn’t aalking about it?”

  “Hardly anyone knows. They’re even keeping it from her parents.”

  “Shit.”

  “’t Caleb just heal it?”

  “He didn’t pick that spell on level up.”

  “Shit” I cursed again.

  Based on what I was told the ust be from the damage the poison did, and not the poison itself. Healing that kind of damage probably needed fifth level spells, which I was a long way away from.

  A eighteen year-old shouldn’t have been dragged into all this. Not that assassinations were fair.

  “Hey,” Rachel said, “before we split, you got to promise to start looping me in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, no more of this ‘shooting from the hip’ thing with Bere.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Run your shit by me before you try something like that again.”

  “It worked out though.”

  Rachel put her hands on her hips, and gave me a pointed look.

  “Alright, alright, I’ll try not to shoot from the hip.”

  “And you’ll e to me with your pns for the date?”

  “ns?”

  “Oh my god, you absolute id—”

  “I’m kidding!” I said, holding up my hands to shield myself from a pyful punch.

  Rachel put her fist away, and ed me in a hug.

  “Hey, whatever happens this week, I got your back.”

  Not sure where that came from. But I hugged her back, and soon we were waving oodbyes.

  I deposited most of my gear in my room, except for my new sword. I gave it a twirl and a swing. It felt good — really good — much like the mithril sword I’d used during that fight at the bar. It assured me of my choices in the armory.

  I made sure to dress well, strapped my sword to my waist, and headed out to the tavern I was told had the most people from the castle.

  The Chipped Spade wasn’t necessarily the closest tavern to the castle, that would be the Blue Mug, but it was the one where the guards frequented, not the tourists and new hires. I could have goo the tter, and maybe I would, but I was betting on sg the best info from the old timers.

  The sun still hung high when I set out, but had moved right behind the tallest spire of the castle, casting a rge skinny shadow that draped the street in chill darkness. Fallen snow from the night before still lingered in the dark pces, in ers, and uhe eaves.

  Winter’d arrived in ear, but the warm o kept the worst of it from Swordfall. For now.

  Tavern owner was a man named Boris, fairly young, who must have ied it, because it was an old pbsp; He’d slick back, bck hair and a severe expression. Mostly lit by the hearthfire at the end of the great hall, and by mps oables, it revealed itself as a big pce, with plenty of darko get lost in.

  I could feel the instinct to pull out Edge, ahrough that darkness, and I resisted it, but the feeling lingered like a bug bite on the bay hand, itchy and ever present. I also had that ti the bay head that told me I was being watched. I ig, and slid in at the bar, held up a hand to fg down Boris, and ordered an ale.

  o me, was a castle guardsman with a huge gray mustache. His name was Walce, and he loved to talk. Took me the better part of an hour to get any useful intel. Apparently, Caleb’s you boy — Fa, 17 — was raring to explore the ti like his older brothers, and was secretly h adventuring supplies. Nobody had the heart to tell him that all of that would be for nothing without a good horse or an armed escort, and both of which were tightly trolled by the king.

  Quite a bit of scuttlebutt about Uchechi, but nothing that seemed aable to me. I think the fact that he was a bck man, and a fner, brought more scrutiny than it was owed. The man was a newly minted father — he wasn’t gonna start trouble.

  I floated around to some other tables and pyed cards, and lost quite a bit of mooo. Not iionally either, I just couldn’t py cards like these folk. The petition was serious.

  But the money got people excited, and hopefully looser of tongue.

  Nobody had anythiive to say about the king. He paid well, and even the gamblers seemed to have a steady enough ihat nothing quirked my ear as suspicious. If anyone was hurting for money and vulnerable to bckmail, it wasn’t these folks.

  None of them had anything bad to say about Caleb. He was well loved by this crowd.

  Lieutenant Gru’ulna came up several times. He was the first orc to get very high in the king’s employ. Anytime someone wao gripe about him, another spoke up to defend them.

  After some time I was starting to think I would get zero intel from this whole thing, when one of the people pying cards at the table, a halfling woman named Buttercress. Mentioned her work for Princess Mia.

  “My whole job,” she began, “is to make sure she’s taken care of, ever more important now that the baby’s here. But she just wants to shut herself in her room doing gods know what tinkering with alchemy.”

  “Yeah?” I prodded.

  “Oh yes, most of it was under sheets but I spied it right away, a bunch of gssware, and beakers carted in by the carriage full. Saints know what she’s up to, but it means I ’t do a damn thing. How am I going to advah the castle if I ’t distinguish myself?”

  “Think it’ll really hold you back?” I asked.

  “Ah, nah, she goes through hobbies like most nobles gh dresses. One day it's wizardly tomes, the it’s horseback riding. She’ll move on soon. Just wished she’d hurry it up. Spending more time pying cards with you fine folk than my job, haha!”

  I ughed, and filed that away. I had no idea Princess Mia was doing anything besides being a mother. But it made some amount of sense. The rich didn’t really raise their own kids.

  Satisfied I’d at least found out who wasn’t the spy: I could rule out Uchechi and Grul’ulna. They both owed too much to Caleb’s safety. And probably Mia. The Princess wouldn’t have any motive to poison her own sister in w. Unless it was a mistake? Nah.

  I stumbled out of the Chipped Spade, and walked dowreet. Stars twinkled above, such as could be seee the streetmps, and the wind carried fresh snowfkes. I pulled my jacket closer, and readjusted my sword.

  A street py was just ing up, pyers taking a bow for the st time, and crew pag the backdrop into boxes one pa a time. Even in the cold, Strife Among the Stars remained wildly popur, haviained scores of people at the end. That was the other thing the old timers had talked about: everyone was ecstatic about the st installment, Episode IX, which premiered the opening night of the new King’s Opera House. Few could afford tickets, and the lottery for the small folk could only invite so many. Several po watch it from the roofs of nearby taverns, hoping to catatches of musid lyri the wind.

  Resigo make the long trek back to the castle in the cold, I was stopped by a streak of light. It bouny chest, and I caught it before it fell too far.

  “Watch where you’re —” the little spot of light started to say, then they interrupted themselves with, “hero guy!”

  “Robin,” I aowledged.

  “Just the bozo I was looking for!”