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“About a year. You?”

“Almost.” Eavus didn’t feel like doing the math. It was all the same to him—every season, every camp. None of it seemed to matter anymore. Only delivering this message, getting it done, finding Revni. His heart was racing. It was so close, and at the same time…This guard was likely interati—only on duty for a couple of hours to bridge the gap between shifts. He probably hadn’t been here all day. What if, yet again, Eavus was being led straight to his death?

Instead of taking him up the stairs to the prefect’s chambers, as Eavus would have expected, the guard made a sharp right, down a hallway painted with murals of Aleterian conquest. They weren’t great, to be honest, but Eavus recognized a battle or two. They stopped at two closed wooden doors, a guard stationed in the center. His guide twisted to look at him.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

Here we go.

“Legionary Ricaea Marceas.” He pulled up the edge of his sleeve so they could see. “I have a message from the prefect at Lordinius.” He indicated the cylinder at his hip.

“Legionary Ricaea Marceas with a message,” the guide repeated. The soldier guarding the door looked like he’d had his nose broken more than once. If these guards had been put on notice to look for him, someone needed to back them in a game of Gambler’s Luck. Their faces were complete blanks. Eavus exhaled.

“Yeah, I heard him. Prefect’s in a meeting.”

“Well, go get him.”

“He didn’t say he wanted to be interrupted.”

“Did he say not to interrupt him?”

“No—”

“Well then⁠—”

Broken-nose pointed at Eavus. “What’s so funny?”

Eavus hadn’t realized that he’d chuckled out loud.

“Nothing.” He pointed vaguely to the wall. “Just, Geros Forest.” The painting showed a dark green mountain tipped with snow. In the foreground, an Aleterian army stood at a distance behind a single Aleterian soldier with a ballista. It had clearly just been fired, as the wooden tower on the hill was cracking in two, about to fall. Eavus couldn’t resist a quirked smile. “There were two of us pushing the ballista. Not just one.”

“Yeah, well, give me your message. Prefect’s in a meeting.” Broken-nose held out his hand.

“I can’t. It’s encrypted.”

“What’s that mean?”

“The message is encoded, and I have the key to it. I have to tell him the key so he knows how to read it.”

Broken-nose scoffed again. “The prefect knows how to read.”

Eavus resisted a sigh. “Could you just tell him I’m here? It’s important.”

“With all urgency, his orders said.” The dark-skinned soldier gave Eavus a puckered-lip nod that was clearly meant to convey support, but looked like he was impersonating a duck.

“Wait here.”

Eavus shifted to At Ease, wincing as shocks shot up his ankle. His new friend stayed, too, and Eavus wished he hadn’t. He gave him a tight smile, a look to convey, You can go, but the soldier just stood there, scratching under his chin with the point of his javelin.

“You been through it, huh?” He pointed at Eavus. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

The guard picked something out of his nose, then examined his find. Eavus turned his eyes forward, trying to soften his focus so the man faded into the periphery. After all this time, it was almost over. Strangely, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he’d be. He felt…he didn’t know how to describe it. Empowered. The new emperor’s message demanded full submission, that was true—but that didn’t have to mean by force. Oditi, Dinaeii, Catavarrus—all over this island were reasonable people who might listen to reasonable terms. They had leaders. Aleteria didn’t know this. They thought everyone here was mindless savages, scraping out hilltops to claim and murdering each other every chance they got, and maybe that was true. But it wasn’t because they were animals—it was because they had old grudges and questions of succession and who was heir to what, just like Aleteria. New leaders rose to power, and old allies found new causes. Surely, Aleteria could relate to that. And the current prefect of Norbucum, he was the key. He would understand, as no other prefect would. He’d been stationed here for over two years. If Eavus gave him the chance—the knowledge—to negotiate peace, to prevent the slaughter of people who had served his meals and sewn his clothing, entertained him at feasts, come to him in times of grief for permission to bury their children— If he could save them, and still serve the emperor? Any man in his right mind would listen.

The door opened, and the guard returned. Eavus straightened. Something was wrong.

“Your news better be important,” the soldier muttered, stepping aside. “Because I told him to come right now, and he was furious.”