Dull pain pulsed through Yansen’s body as he crossed the threshold of Stonehelm Castle. Behind him, the remaining soldiers under his command collapsed in exhaustion. They looked as if they had crawled out of hell; their cloaks were stiff from dried blood, their armor was dented or missing, and fresh blood seeped through wounds that kept opening, staining the castle floors. They had been riding for days.

  “Lord Yansen, what happened?” A guard ran up, his face paling as he took in the state of the fallen soldiers.

  “Where is Lady Dane!” Yansen demanded. His exhausted mind moved as if he were floating in water, the questions and facial expressions from the guards taking a moment to register. He was only standing due to sheer will.

  Why is the light so bright, he thought, bringing his hand to cover his eyes.

  “Lady Dane is in the Great Hall. Should I inform her of your arrival?” A guard’s voice drifted to him.

  Looking up, Yansen shook his head. “No. I will go to her now.”

  Ignoring the servants swarming around him, he strode toward the Great Hall. He was still encased in his blood-covered armor, but the blood had dried days ago, and rust-colored flakes chipped off as he walked.

  Stepping into the hall, he heard gasps echoing through the chamber.

  “Aunt, I bring urgent news,” he heard himself say, dropping to one knee. His vision was swimming.

  “Yansen… what is the meaning of this? What has happened?”

  Looking up at her, he saw her frozen in shock, fear, and apprehension; her hands were covering her mouth.

  “My Lady,” Yansen said hoarsely, “we were ambushed by Lord Bovera, Para, and an unidentified army. Lord Baura, Quillon, and Viarop have fallen in battle.” His throat tightened. “There are also reports that Lord Leora, Lord Conrad, and Leora’s heir have fallen.”

  Gasps and ragged intakes of breath filled the hall as Yansen gave his report. Warm blood dripped steadily onto the stone floor.

  Looking down at the bright blood dripping down his arm, Yansen idly wondered if one of his wounds had reopened.

  When did it happen?

  “Are you certain of Averell’s and my son’s deaths?” Lady Dane demanded, her voice quivering as the color drained from her face.

  “Yes, my Lady. I saw them fall,” Yansen replied, guilt hammering into his soul. “As part of the infantry, I could not reach them.” His jaw clenched. “I was only able to save a handful of our soldiers.”

  At his words, Lady Dane let out a broken wail and collapsed, her composure shattering from the news.

  “My Lady! Bring her to her room!” someone shouted.

  Maids rushed forward as chaos erupted in the room. Nobles who were happily conversing just moments ago were rushing around in panic or standing frozen.

  “Yansen!” One of House Baura’s council members barked, shoving his way through the crowd. “I know you're injured, but we need a full report. Follow me to the War Room. Call all the members of the council!” The last part was yelled at a servant, who stammered before rushing off.

  Yansen rose slowly and blindly followed the man. Everything was starting to feel like a dream, the lights and colors in his surroundings constantly shifting.

  Entering The War room, he took a moment to find a chair and sat down heavily.

  “Lord Yansen, let us take off your armor and tend to your injuries,” a servant said anxiously, his fingers reaching gingerly for the leather straps keeping Yansen’s armor in place. As he nodded to the servant, Yansen noticed his eyes kept wandering around the room. It was so hard to keep focused. He was so exhausted.

  “Yansen, report!”

  Blinking in slow startlement, Yansen started to speak, his voice sounding detached from his body.

  “During the duel, the forces of Lord Bovera, Para, and an unidentified force attacked us. They quickly surrounded our infantry with their cavalry, cutting us down. Lord Baura was killed by Lord Bovera, while Quillon fell to Lord Tulka. Viarop fell to Kornel. I was able to injure Kornel but was unable to kill him.”

  “What of Lord Leora? How could he have been defeated?” the council members demanded, many of them leaping to their feet.

  “I did not witness his death, but some of the survivors saw an unidentified man cut him down. But we do not know who he is,” Yansen replied.

  A terrifying silence filled the room.

  “He must have been from the third force,” he continued, wincing as the servants pulled off the bent and dirty armor. “I took the remaining survivors and returned as fast as possible.”

  Hearing his report, the council members began to argue, their voices echoing off the walls.

  “Silence!” An old man clutching his walking stick as if it were a sword shouted. “The priority is keeping our lands safe! We have lost most of our elite warriors. If we are attacked now, we will be put in a desperate position. If Leora falls, we are next. What are your suggestions?”

  “We must figure out who this third force is!” the Pillar of the Guards shouted; the large man slammed his hand onto the table. “We must determine if Lord Bovera and Lord Para have sold us out to a foreign power! If not, how were they able to keep the recruitment and training of such an army a secret from us!”

  “Learning who they are is important, but not the priority!” a young pale scholar argued back, his eyes glancing wildly around the room. “Our army is what matters! If we have no soldiers, it does not matter who the enemy is. We must conscript the villagers in the surrounding area and train them!”

  “Training takes months! We do not have that time! We must send a message to the Capital asking for aid!” another council member yelled. “Lord Bovera and Lord Para might have betrayed the Kingdom! This could be the start of an invasion from Kandula!”

  “Lord Bovera will never fall that low!” someone else shouted, his cry causing the room to explode into chaos.

  As the meeting continued, Yansen felt his vision blur; the arguments around him were sounding more and more like a dull roar and less like words. As his armor was finally removed, the sudden weightlessness caused the numerous bruises and wounds on his body to start screaming.

  I’m going to pass out, he thought.

  Just before he fell unconscious, he saw a fight break out, the panicking council members grabbing each other in a frenzy of anger.

  Floating in a cloud of pain, Yansen woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his chest. He groaned as he tried to sit up, but his strength failed him, and he fell back onto the sweat-soaked bed he was lying in. The room seemed to spin for a moment, the soft lights swirling around him. The smell of herbs and tinctures grounded him back to reality.

  “Yansen, don't move. You're still severely injured.” An old lady stood over him, her wrinkled hands reaching for his forehead. She had wispy white hair gathered into a loose bun at the back of her neck. Feeling her cool hand, Yansen closed his eyes briefly, then tried to speak.

  “Healer, how long was I out?” he rasped. “What's going on?”

  “No need to know what's going on now. You need to rest,” she said, gently pushing him down. “You’re no use to anyone if you die.”

  “Please, Healer, I need to know!” Yansen insisted, clutching her hand.

  Sighing in frustration, the Healer pulled her hand out of his grasp. “You have been unconscious for three days. I am not in the military, so I don’t know the specifics, but everyone in the surrounding villages has been conscripted. There are also rumors that Lady Dane has asked House Apra for aid.”

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  “Apra?” Yansen echoed in alarm before his body curled up in a fit of coughing. The erratic movements sent raw pain running down his throat and into his stomach; his abs tightened.

  “Don't move! If you move now, you will tear your stitching!” the Healer scolded, her old but strong arms forcing him back down.

  Groaning in pain, Yansen tried to clear his mind. He didn’t trust House Apra. They were outsiders—the only Great House led by someone not born to nobility. Lord Broi married into the Great House in his youth and took over when his wife passed away. Everything he did seemed calculated, always to his own benefit. Ever since he was little, Yansen had harbored bad feelings about Lord Broi.

  Taking a moment for the throbbing to subside, Yansen turned back to her. “Healer, why did Lady Dane ask House Apra for help and not House Salizia?”

  “I'm sorry, but I don’t know anything about politics,” the healer said. “But you should know as well as I do that Lord Virope was engaged to Lady Yena. She is the second daughter of Lord Broi.”

  “But with Virope dead, they no longer have any obligation to help us…” Yansen muttered before falling silent. “Healer, I need to speak with Lady Dane. Please, help me up.”

  “Yansen, you can't move yet! We just talked about this,” the old lady sighed, her patience starting to wear thin. “If you keep acting up, I’ll use Sap of the Willow to put you to sleep.”

  Sap of the Willow was a sedative mostly used to help people sleep. It was not very strong, and people who had taken it would easily wake, but to someone injured like Yansen, it would put him into a deep sleep.

  If she gives it to me, I won’t know the next time I’ll wake, Yansen thought, his mind racing. It’s pointless to argue. I need to think of something.

  “You are right,” he said at last. “I won’t try to get up. I’ll sleep for now.”

  “I’m glad you finally understand. Now rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to check up on you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Closing his eyes, Yansen began drawing Aether into his body, carefully rotating it in the complex pattern he had been taught. As the energy coursed through him, he felt his battered body slowly absorb its intoxicating power, growing stronger.

  Hours passed as he lay in bed, concentrating entirely on recovery. After the Healer came to check on him a second time and left, Yansen gathered as much Aether as he could, and gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

  His body swayed, forcing him to grip the edge of a table to steady himself. Taking a moment to let the dizziness pass, he took a breath and looked for his clothes, spotting them neatly folded nearby.

  I hope I don’t fall, he thought as he began dressing himself as fast as possible. Once clothed, he limped through the castle, making his way to the Grand Hall.

  “Lord Yansen! You shouldn’t be out of bed yet!” one of the guards at the great doors exclaimed, his face filled with alarm.

  “Step aside. I need to speak with Lady Dane,” Yansen said, pushing past the two guards before they could stop him.

  Leaning against the door, Yansen pushed it open and entered the hall. His eyes flicked around the room. Inside, a massive table had been brought to the center of the room, a detailed map of Vanura spread across it. Surrounding the table stood Pillars, Council members, and ministers, all of them shifting wooden pieces around. The mood was thick with uncertainty, laced with anger and fear. Hushed whispers and strained voices had replaced the usual cheerful chatter. Sitting in Lord Baura’s seat was Lady Dane, her complexion waxy and sickly.

  “Lady Dane! I have heard that you are seeking help from House Apra!” Yansen cried, cutting through the whispers. He knelt in front of his aunt. “I must disagree—Lord Apra is not to be trusted!”

  “Yansen, you do not look like you should be out of bed yet,” Lady Dane said, her voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

  “Please, you must reconsider!” Yansen interrupted. “We must ask the Royal Family for help. If Lord Apra were to send his troops to our lands, I do not doubt that he would try to take Baura for himself!”

  An agitated buzz filled the room. The Pillar and ministers looked up, their gazes turning expectantly toward Lady Dane.

  “We sent a letter to the Royal Family for aid,” Lady Dane replied, her voice hollow. “They sent a raven telling us that they are sending their cavalry to House Leora and do not have time for us.”

  The Pillars and ministers around the table looked down, almost as if they had already accepted defeat. They had always been a House that relied heavily on Lord Baura’s charisma. Without him, they were lost.

  As the words fell, Yansen felt his stomach drop. Logically, he understood why House Salizia had acted this way, but emotionally, he could not help but feel betrayed.

  If Salizia managed to stop the advancing army in Leora, Baura would be safe from Bovera and Para. But that would not protect Baura from the bandits that always attacked after the harvest. After everything House Baura had done for Salizia, they would not help when they were needed most.

  “According to Prince Hector, Lundale is our ally, so as the lands bordering that Kingdom, we do not need help,” Lady Dane continued.

  “But that does not help us against bandits,” Yansen said, his voice cracking. “We need soldiers!”

  “Yansen, do you think I don't know that!” Lady Dane snapped, her voice filled with despair. “Salizia has abandoned us! We have no other option but to ask Lord Apra for help!” Tears streaked down her face. “My Husband and sons have died! All because of you! I don’t want to hear about problems I already know from you! If we had just handed you over to Lord Para, all of this could have been avoided!”

  Her words slammed into him like physical blows, the impact hurting more than the wounds he had acquired in battle. Staggering back, Yansen felt his world crumble. Deep down, he knew she was right, though he had tried to lie to himself that House Bovera and Para were solely at fault.

  It’s my fault that everyone died, he thought, his lip bleeding as he bit into it.

  House Bovera and Para had broken the rules of the duel and had brought an army of unknown origin into Vanura, but all of that was only possible because he could not protect Ria.

  “Lady Dane…” he stammered.

  “Yansen, I want you to get out of my sight!” Lady Dane shouted, throwing a cup at him.

  “Yansen, please come with us,” the two guards rushed over to him. Their faces looked haunted. “Please, come with us.”

  Nodding wordlessly, Yansen allowed the guards to lead him out. He no longer knew what to do.

  “Yansen, it's not your fault; they would have found any reason to attack us,” one of the guards said, clasping Yansen on the shoulder.

  “But I was the reason. I may be the reason House Baura falls.” Yansen whispered.

  “No, you’re not. Once Lady Dane calms down, she will see. Just stay out of her sight until then.”

  The guards left him at the door to his chambers, their sorrowful eyes boring deeply into his soul. Standing there in the dark corridor, Yansen could still hear his aunt’s words echoing in his mind.

  “All because of you!”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he wondered how much more of Baura would burn because of him.

  Miles away, just inside the lands of Ruscell, Lord Bovera paced back and forth before a large map of the surrounding area, his temper flaring. Around him stood his brother, Lord Para, and a Pillar.

  “Pillar, repeat what you just told me, “ he growled, his narrowed eyes fixed on the trembling man.

  “My Lord, Lady Isles has moved her troops into position here and here,” the Pillar replied, placing two wooden cranes into position on the map.

  House Ruscell’s crest was that of a Mountain Lion, but Lady Isles herself bore the crest of a Crane.

  “If we continue our invasion of Leora, our supply lines will be cut off.”

  “How dare she oppose us!” Lord Para snarled, feverishly studying the map as he looked for a way to maneuver their supply lines past her forces.

  “Without secure supply lines, we’ll incur heavy losses,” the Pillar said.

  “We know,” Lord Bovera hissed, his mind jumping from one solution to another. Nothing worked. Realizing his mind was stuck in a loop of frustration and anger, he turned to his brother.

  “Tulka, what are your thoughts?”

  Taking a moment to trace his fingers across the map, Tulka replied. “As long as she keeps her troops in position, we cannot invade Leora without losing our supply line. Our best outcome would be to take Castle Leora as quickly as possible and seize their food supplies. If we succeed, we will have enough food.

  “The problem is Castle Leora’s walls. With only a small force, most competent generals can hold that castle for weeks. If, during our siege, Lady Isles were to attack us from behind, we would be at a severe disadvantage. In the worst-case scenario, the civilians burn their own food stores and the coming harvest before fighting us to the death. If they do, we will starve while the Ruscell’s troops hunt us down. They may even trap us in Castle Leora.”

  Looking up at Lord Bovera, Tulka continued. “Brother, we must retreat. We can invade Leora from a different direction next year— with a secure supply line. We cannot be stuck here for months. Next year, we will have the advantage of choosing when to strike. Even if the invasion takes months, we will be ready. This year, we had the advantage of surprise, but without the warriors from the Shrine, we can’t take Leora before we run out of food. Besides, without a skilled general or outside support, Leora cannot replace the troops we’ve killed.”

  “Cowards!” Lord Para shouted, turning to them. “We have months before harvest. We have time! If Ruscell blocks us, we attack them! Break their army, seize their supplies, then storm into Leora.”

  “We cannot invade Ruscell,” Lord Bovera said, frustration sharpening his voice.

  “Cannot—or will not?” Lord Para slammed his hand down on the table, causing the wooden pieces to rattle and topple over. “Bisconti, don't forget—I know you used to court Isles in your youth. Are you refusing to fight her because you still harbor feelings?”

  “My former feeling for Isles has nothing to do with this!” Lord Bovera snapped, anger flaring.

  “Then what is it?”

  “My Shadows tell me that her daughter is married to a prince of Arioria,” Lord Bovera spat through gritted teeth. “You know as well as I do that even if the entire Kingdom of Vanura were to go to war with Arioria, we will lose.”

  “Married to a prince of Arioria!” Lord Para laughed, stepping closer until his red face was inches from Bovera’s. “Do you take me for a fool? The only person that a prince of Arioria would marry is Queen Milina herself. If Isles’ daughter married somebody from Arioria, he would be nothing more than a minor noble. Believing she wed a prince is the height of foolishness.”

  “Are you calling me a fool?” Lord Bovera demanded, grabbing Lord Para’s by the front of his shirt.

  “If not a fool, then a coward!” Lord Para roared, wrenching himself free.

  “Both of you, stop!” Tulka shouted, grabbing Lord Bovera and pulling him away. Standing between them, he turned to Lord Para. “Lord Para, if you insult my brother again, I will be forced to challenge you to a duel. And I would like to remind you that, given your current injuries, you will not win.”

  A tense silence followed as Lord Para fought with his pride. Then he stormed away. “We are leaving!” he bellowed to his men.

  “That fool,” Lord Bovera hissed, his fists clenching. “Our alliance with him is already starting to sour. He is more emotional than I anticipated. We may have to remove him.”

  “Brother, there is no reason to remain here,” Tulka said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. “Let us return home.”

  Lord Bovera exhaled slowly and then turned to his guards.

  “Pillar, sound the horns. We are returning home.”

  “Yes, My Lord”

  Watching his brother's hardened expression, Tulka sighed quietly. His brother would not forgive the insult Lord Para had thrown at him.

  Making his way to his horse, Tulka observed Lord Para’s troops who were already moving out. The dark clouds overhead cast them in a gray light, making them look almost ghostlike.