After laying out a rough plan with Fredrick, I called for Edward to join us in the study. Edward entered without a word and, as there were no more seats, he stood near the entrance waiting for our little meeting to begin. Usually, he was more relaxed in my presence, but this time he was stiff as a board. I wonder if it was because he was in the presence of Fredrick as well?

Leaning back in my chair, I said, "I'd like a full report, Edward. I need your perspective on what happened in Vaspar."

Fredrick scoffed behind me. "I already told you everything."

I turned toward him with a flat look. "Yes, and in your version, you set five nearly completed manuscripts on fire. Five. That book was due out this week.. Do you know how many hours that was?"

"Hundreds," he replied, shamelessly. "Also, remember that the already bound one was supposed to be mine. But they weren't wasted. They were sacrificed."

I folded my arms. "You make it seem like you used a sacrificial altar and ripped out their heart first."

"We're not in one of those weird countries south of Turabe," He said. Fredrick strode over to the window, gesturing like a playwright explaining the final act. "The second volume of your great epic didn't vanish. It became a legend. People wanted the book before. Now, they need it."

Edward leaned forward, the first sign of real engagement crossing his face. "He's not entirely wrong. The readings were doing better than we expected. High Society thrives on novelty. The plays, the balls, the salons—they're all ancient by now. But the book readings?" He smiled. "Nobles reveled in their importance, always having the first taste of every book, and it made the common folk who got the readings afterwards feel like insiders."

Fredrick nodded as if Edward had just read from a scroll he'd written himself. "I would take offence at that jab towards nobility if it weren't so true. My friends have been talking up the book for weeks. 'Oh, you didn't read the first book?' Instant shame. And for the ones who did? They were desperate for more. I've dropped just enough spoilers to keep everyone salivating. Thanks for letting me read ahead, by the way, it really helps with feeling self-important."

Edward turned and nodded.

"And then," I said, "you burned the whole thing down."

He pointed at me, grinning. "Exactly. And now the only copy is gone. I think this is going to be the best marketing campaign yet. It's not just a book anymore—it's a tragedy. A lost treasure. Everyone's furious, and with Julie's help, people are now blaming everything on my brother."

"When I explained the concept of marketing campaigns, I did not include burning down my publishing house.

"At least they think it was Peter," Edward added.

"The nobles are whispering that he orchestrated the whole mess. That he's silencing artists, chasing off criers, stamping out culture while our father's body's still warm. It is a beautiful situation." Fredrick said dramatically.

I leaned back in my chair, letting that sink in. My publishing house was ash. My team was forced back to my county. But Fredrick had flipped the narrative so fast that Peter was the one left holding the torch—figuratively and, if rumor kept spreading, his city may come after him with torches.

"I hate the fact that my county was dragged into your family's squabbles and that you are using me as a piece on your board, but I guess the blame really lies with the council and your brother. They all need to leave me alone for a little while."

Frederick shook his head. "Every noble is a piece on the board. It's up to you which piece you are. Nobody is going to give you time to gain power unless they feel that power would benefit them. Wars with other nations come and go, but the wars among the nobility are never-ending. My father's words, not mine."

"I'm going to miss your father. He was someone I was really hoping to build ties with."

"I think he had the same idea. Julie was warming up to the idea of possibly being given to you, but it would have more likely been someone with a larger dowry to entice you. Julie's great, but she has three older brothers, which means her dowry wouldn't be something that would be suitable for a marriage to a count."

That information blew me away. In my opinion, Julie wouldn't be a bad match. She wasn't the most beautiful person I had met, but she was smart. She could really help me out with all the intrigue. Of course, maybe she was a little too smart, and I might end up taking a back seat to her. No time to think about that, though. I wasn't interested in marriage just yet.

"We're off topic. I accept the fact that the plan was good and executed well, but you do realize that now you have to restart the entire second volume from scratch. I didn't keep a copy."

Edward spoke up, "If I might interject. I don't believe you will need to do that. The scribes who were working on the book know the story well. I am sure that between them, they can recreate it. Also, I know how you love it when people try to better themselves. I have heard some of them talk about how the story might be improved."

"Perfect. Have them rewrite it. Let them discuss some ideas and make it better. Have them create a focus group. I will explain that later, but for now, on to other matters. Edward, I am leaving you here while I travel to Oceanside. Do you remember Barak's daughter and son-in-law?"

"Barak was the old headman in Pollman before it became Plimgus, and you got him to take over Cofi as headman, right?"

"That's the one. His son-in-law is in the NCDF, and he's headed down here with the rest of the soldiers. His wife is coming along with them as a cook. Really, though, her job is to make contact with her friends in the area who are acting as spies and collect the information they have gathered. Work with her and get their reports."

Frederick grinned. "Excellent, I am glad you have spies here. I was hoping that was the case. If I am to take over here like you want, I would like access to them. Though I would love the challenge of figuring out who your spies are, an already established network would really help me out. If our plan to get rid of the Baroness works, then I will need someone to help me find any of her other supporters."

"Which is why I didn't hesitate to mention the spies in your presence. I need your loyalty."

"And for me to let my guard down so that when others spy on me," he said as if the situation was obvious.

I tried to give a look of shock, but I don't think Frederick was buying it. Instead, I changed the subject. "Ok, I think we are done here." I looked over at the cold meals on the table. "I am ready for supper. Oh, and Fredrick, next time, just warn me before you torch one of my businesses."

Fredrick flashed a smile. "Where's the fun in that?"

*********

The road curved downward toward the ocean, once lined with shabby homes and fish stalls. Now, all that remained were scorched beams and cracked foundations. The air was thick with the memory of fire, mingling with the brine of the sea.

It should've been beautiful. The sky was clear and high. Waves curled against the distant rocks, and the breeze carried that unmistakable scent of salt and sun. In my old life, I only knew that smell through dollar-store candles labeled "Ocean Breeze." What a bunch of liars those candle companies were. Those synthetic things couldn't capture even a fraction of this.

But it was all marred by the stench of ruin.

When I first arrived, it was a gut-wrenching sight. Now the images blended into the background, giving me a mild feeling of melancholy. It was the way of this world.

We walked the dusty main street together, my personal guard fanned out in a cautious semicircle behind us. I traveled at the pace of the NCDF this time. I still did not trust the soldiers of Malcomp and Plimgus. North Point may have helped to unify my barony, but I wasn't sure what would happen if my barons' men caught me with only a few guards.

"Rick, what do you think?" I asked, stepping over a shattered clay pot, its contents—wheat or oats, maybe. Its contents were lost in the wind.

Rick glanced at me sidelong, eyes sharp beneath his brow. "It's suspicious, my lord."

I slowed my pace, brushing soot from my sleeve. "What do you mean?"

"We've walked this place three times. Still no sign of a real fight." He gestured with a tilt of his head. "Before we arrived, they found and buried the villagers. But not one soldier's body among them."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I stopped, looking out over the remains of what had once been a thriving fishing village. "You think they saw three ships and just… surrendered?"

Rick shook his head. "And let their families be taken? I don't think so."

I nodded, chewing on the thought. "Then maybe it's this—Baron Plimgus came down here to speak with the Rabiss. Just like we discussed, we don't know the reason, but the fact that he brought only a few men? That suggests secrecy. He didn't want others to know what he was up to."

Rick gave a short nod. "That tracks."

I stepped around the splintered and charred remains of a cart. "So let's say he made a deal—or thought he was making one. Maybe the village guards were in on it. Maybe they were promised safety for their families if they helped round up the villagers."

"And once Plimgus was dead…" Rick said, catching on, "The raiders took everyone instead. No witnesses."

"Exactly."

My heart twisted again as I saw the small stocking of a child left abandoned on the side of the road.

Rick looked up toward the hill where a few smoke-stained stones still clung to the remains of a barn. "Do you think his son really killed him?"

I looked away, toward the ocean. "According to Baron Malcomp, yes. A knife wound. And the bloody blade was buried with him."

"But Rufus and the rest of the soldiers?" Rick continued. "Shot full of arrows. If this had been a Rabiss betrayal, the baron would have been hit the same way."

"They weren't." I turned and pointed up the rise where we'd found the trees. "They were hanged. Rufus had a sign around his neck—'kinslayer.' Someone wanted to let us know what happened here. From all that I know, Rabiss may be scum, but they have their own sense of honor."

I scratched my chin, weighing the inconsistencies. "Kevin's missing. If they took him, maybe he wasn't involved. The more information I get, the more convinced I am that this was a plan from the council—one that went sideways."

Rick's lips pressed into a tight line. "If it was about plunder, why not raid other villages?"

I glanced at him. "A noble's ransom might be more valuable than a dozen villages of fishmongers. Why risk losing him to our retaliation?"

Rick hesitated. "My lord… I think we're looking at this wrong. They came early. Maybe they didn't have all the information. Maybe they didn't know about the soldiers' training at North Point. They wouldn't have known we could react to their attack."

My eyes narrowed. "You think Plimgus came down here to warn them?"

"It fits," Rick said. "Some villagers escaped. That means word got out—and we responded. Maybe the Baron hoped to keep the council's plans quiet, but once the attack started, things spiraled."

I nodded slowly. "It makes sense. And I'm going to share that theory with Malcomp."

Rick stopped. "Isn't he with the council?"

I looked over my shoulder at the ruined village. The villagers who had escaped had returned and were working with the soldiers to pour water over anything that was still smoldering so that they could start clearing away the rubble. The scene made my blood boil. I turned back to Rick. "And what better way to get word back to them? Let them think I trust him. I'll send my own report to the duke, of course. But Malcomp needs to think he has my confidence."

Rick gave a soft grunt of reluctant approval. "I see. And what's next?"

"We go back to Plimgus Manor." I turned toward the road leading inland. "It's time we had a word with the baroness."

******

The mood was grim as we traveled back to Plimgus Manor. Rain came down in buckets, soaking cloaks and saddles slick as our horses clomped through thickening mud. The skies were a flat, iron gray, and the only sound for hours was the quiet cursing of wet, miserable men. I should have brought my carriage, but a man on a horse was faster. And I wasn't sure if I would need it.

I'd planned to speak with the baroness that evening, but I knew better than to confront a woman like her while my patience was threadbare. If I weren't completely in control, she would see it and possibly be able to use it.

So I soaked in a hot bath until the chill left my bones. Ate dinner in silence. Then I went to bed early and rose at dawn in a somewhat better mood. However, the knowledge of what I had to do weighed on me like a mountain.

I spent the morning gathering Edward's reports and annotating them with my own notes. After that, I held a brief meeting with Fredrick and Edward to finalize the staging and sequence of what I intended to be a carefully orchestrated lie. I didn't know what it was going to take to make this lady crack, and I could be in there for hours.

When all was in place, I had a guard escort Lady Plimgus into what used to be her husband's study.

I made sure to be seated in his chair when she arrived.

The study was originally Baron Pollman's, and you could tell it had been built to impress. Plimgus had brought in new furniture, and it fit right in with what would have been there originally.

Heavy shelves lined the walls, each stuffed with scrolls bound in faded velvet and cracked leather. A massive stone hearth stood cold and empty behind me, its carved mantle depicting a heroic battle scene that had long outlived the man who commissioned it. A tapestry of the Plimgus crest—sunburst over sheaves of wheat—hung slightly crooked above a cabinet of ledgers.

The fading Sunlight filtered weakly through tall, arched windows draped in thick burgundy curtains. The desk itself was a behemoth—dark oak, with a too-polished surface that gleared under the candlelight. I'd cleared it of everything except a stack of crisp reports and a half-burned candle, which cast flickering shadows on the far wall.

The only chair facing me was a narrow-backed, stiff-seated thing I'd chosen deliberately, dwarfed by the scale of the room and designed to offer no comfort. As Lady Plimgus stepped in, her eyes flicked over the surroundings. Hopefully, seeing her husband's chair occupied by me bothered her.

Her expression didn't change, but one thing about Lady Plimgus was that she wore her disdain like carved stone, every feature set as if chiseled into permanence. She moved with a kind of rigid grace, head high, back straight. Her dress was black, her sleeves severe, and she stood without a word behind the hard, crooked-backed chair I'd selected after a long search through the manor's guest rooms. It was the most uncomfortable seat I could find.

"Lady Plimgus," I said evenly, "please sit."

She did. Her silence was stony.

"First," I began, folding my hands before me, "I want to express my condolences. It is never easy to lose a family member, and you have lost three."

She said nothing. Not a flicker of grief. I would have had better luck addressing the wall.

Fine. She wanted to play ice queen? Let her.

"I would like to give you more time to grieve," I continued, "but unfortunately, matters of governance won't wait. I've gathered some background on your family. You are the niece of Baron Yarbeth, correct?"

She gave a tight nod.

"Your late husband was the son of a knight. His father's fief produced a good deal of grain thanks to long, backbreaking expansion." I paused. "Odd, though. Unlike Baron Malcomp, who has proven himself time and again in battle, your husband has no notable accomplishments I can find that would earn him a barony from the duke."

Her jaw twitched.

"Would you like to clarify anything?"

"My husband was well respected," she said flatly.

"I see." I made sure the skepticism was visible on my face.

I shuffled the papers on the desk, taking my time. Let her sit.

"Given that your husband is dead and your son Kevin is missing," I said, "someone must manage the barony in the interim. You've always struck me as a shrewd woman. Would you say your husband trusted you to manage his holdings in his absence?"

That hit the target. I saw her posture straighten even more, if that were possible. She likely thought this was an offer.

"Yes," she said. "I was very involved in the barony's management."

"Good. Can you write? Did you assist him in his correspondence?"

Her nostrils flared. "Of course. He handled the writing, but I often reviewed his letters before they were sent."

"Excellent." I gave a smile. "Then you were aware of both internal affairs and external dealings. That's very helpful."

She stiffened as she realized the trap I had set just shut.

"Which means," I said, "you must know why your husband rushed to Oceanside with only twenty guards after hearing three enemy ships were spotted."

"He was attempting to negotiate with them," she replied without hesitation.

I tilted my head. "And you, being an intelligent woman, didn't warn him of the idiocy in doing so? No runner to North Point? No request for aid? Just twenty men?"

She shifted, but said nothing. She knew I wouldn't buy her flimsy excuse.

I leaned forward. "After a thorough investigation, we've come to certain conclusions. Your husband did not fear the Rabiss. Witnesses say he rode hard, without rest. That doesn't speak of caution that any sane person would have when approaching an enemy. That speaks of urgency. The question is, what information was so important that he risked exposing himself to get it to them?"

She licked her lips. "He wanted to prevent the loss of more villages."

"With twenty men?" I scoffed. "He took nothing to offer them. Unless he intended to offer knowledge, like the location of a military camp with nearly a thousand soldiers, that could sweep in and ruin their plans. That might interest raiders, don't you think?"

Her mask of calm split. "What do you want?" she hissed.

I let my smile fade.

"I want your confession," I said coldly. "Your husband's involvement in a plot to flood my lands with Rabiss. If you cooperate thoroughly, I may be willing to spare the rest of your family. I may even bring Kevin home."

Her face twisted in candlelight. If I were to paint it, I would label it 'woman's wrath'. "You'll kill me anyway. You'll never let Kevin inherit."

"You're right, but depending on your confession, he may live. You also have children, grandchildren, and let's not forget your daughter-in-law," I said as I leaned back.

"You're vile," she spat. "You're using my family's safety as leverage."

"Am I?" I said, voice hardening. "You allowed mercenaries to rape and pillage your own people. I lost eighty men cleaning them out. You sold an entire village into slavery. And you call me evil. I am what your husband wasn't: justice."

"Even if you spare family, others will not."

"Then it is best you tell me who they are. That way, I can better protect your posterity."

I opened a folder of testimony from survivors and people in her household. "These are accounts from your own people. They will support what I already know. I suggest you review them and begin writing. You have until supper. Then the deal is off. One way or another, I will get the information I want from you."

She got the hint but remained defiant. "You can't torture a noble."

She was right. Legally. But legality had nothing to do with this.

"I have enough evidence to sentence you to death," I said. "Whether we question you before that… doesn't need to be public knowledge."

Color drained from her face. That was it. That was the fear I needed.

"Guards," I called.

Two men entered swiftly.

"Escort Lady Plimgus to her chambers. She is to have paper, ink, and privacy. No contact with anyone. Guard her door until supper. If my orders are ignored, I'll hold you both personally accountable. And you know what that means."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. You're dismissed."

The baroness stood slowly, her movements still graceful but now hollow. She gave me one last scathing look before sweeping out.

As the door shut, Fredrick stepped out from behind a tapestry, arms crossed.

"I thought you were turning me into a spy," he said with a grin. "This was child's play. I've done better eavesdropping in my own halls." He nodded toward the door. "Good job, though. Do you think she'll write it?"

I exhaled. "We'll know by supper."

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