Dearest Zann,

We spent the next few days riding to a little town northwest of Crideon. Cranvur. About seventy-five, a hundred miles away from the city. We scavenged horses from some abandoned farms and from some marauders who tried us on and got killed by Wryth. We didn’t have much food, but Wryth had money and we found a couple of places to buy some.

“You don’t really need me on this expedition at all,” I said as we rode.

“One must never feel sorry for oneself,” she said. “This is your country; these problems cannot be solved by an Amaydyan. And you have experience dealing with facets of these matters that I never knew existed. Most of our plan was your idea. I think you may be indispensable.”

“That’s a frightening thought. I suppose what I meant to say was, thank you for coming along on this excursion and buying food and killing enemies. I don’t know how I could have coped without you.”

“Oh, I am happy to do it. You may reciprocate by removing the tariffs on Amaydyan textile exports to Crideon.”

“Consider it done.”

We saw soldiers guarding the approaches to Cranvur long before we ever saw Cranvur. I didn’t want to give anyone any bad surprises, so I beckoned the first pair to come out of the brush. They didn’t know how to take that, but eventually one of them stayed back with a crossbow pointed at us while the other one came out to talk.

“Who are you two?” he demanded.

“I’m a Rosolla guard from Crideon, and I’m here to speak to Crown Prince Erwheel. I’ve been in the palace recently, and Cas Crid, and Lord Clear hates me,” I told him. “This is my colleague Ancient Wryth, representing our Amaydyan allies.”

“Shit,” the soldier said. “I don’t… All right.” He took a blue flag out of his belt. “Ride on in. Show this as you go, the whole time. That will get you into the town.”

We thanked him and rode on. There were more soldiers and encampments on the way. Seemed to be pretty well organized, actually, which I hadn’t expected. I saw some of the Cranvur townspeople, too, and they didn’t look frightened, which was a good sign.

The town was built around a small keep, where Erwheel made his headquarters. There was a lot of activity around the gate, wagons of supplies being unloaded. My first idea was to wait until it was less busy to try to go in, but Wryth pushed us forward and pointed at my flag when the head gate-guard glared at us. He waved us through.

Once inside the keep, we tied up our horses and looked around for the main hall. Before we could make a move, a guard officer stepped up to us. “What’s your business here?” she said.

“I’d like an audience with Prince Erwheel,” I said.

“And I’d like a pony,” she answered.

“Understood. Lots of petitioners and hustlers. Just point me to a person who can say ‘yes’.”

This went on for a while. The officer sent me to a baron. I hate barons. This particular one asked me a lot of questions, including some I didn’t want to answer. I told him just enough of the truth to get him to agree to an audience… the following morning. And in the meantime Wryth and I could piss off out of the keep. I did get a chit from him that would get us back in the gates, so I didn’t think he was lying about the audience.

“If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be begging the Talistag family for permission to save people’s lives,” I said to Wryth as we led our horses out of the keep.

“They aren’t worse than any other ruling family,” she told me placidly.

“No, they aren’t,” I said. “No, they are not.”

“We probably wouldn’t have been friends ten years ago, I suppose.”

“No, I was a lot more fiery back then. What were you like?”

“Oh, nowhere near as fiery as I am now,” she drawled.

We managed to keep out of trouble that evening, and presented ourselves in the main hall of the keep the next morning. Crown Prince Erwheel was standing beside the end of a long table, surrounded by advisers, as petitioners came and went around them. Wryth identified two of the advisers as Castellanatus, a wizard, and Kista, a caravanner. Castellanatus had three eyes.

When we had an opening we stepped to the end of the table. “Your Highness,” I said. “I’m a representative of the Rosolla Guard, and I’m uniquely familiar with the situation inside Crideon, and most of the major players. I’ve come to propose a plan–“

“I know that voice,” said one of the other advisers. I hadn’t gotten a look at him before. He had shaved the mustache and beard, too, and put on a bit of weight. “You’re… oh… Ybel, that’s the name. From the Boltmarch. But you–“

It was Prolonger, a nasty mercenary who had been the scourge of the peasantry seven years ago in the Boltmarch. Under normal circumstances, he was the last person I wanted to see, and these weren’t normal circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Prolonger. I’m here on serious business and you’ll shut your head if you don’t want to be chasing it down the street.” Wryth raised her eyebrows. Well, one of them.

Prolonger drew his sword, but Erwheel seemed delighted. “Prolonger? You know this man?”

“Know? This man? Not as well as I thought! But you shouldn’t trust him, I can tell you that!”

“Now I’m curious. Ybel? Sit down and tell me your story. Put up your sword, Prolonger, you obviously want to hear it too, put up your sword.”

I didn’t like this at all, but at least Erwheel was listening. As I sat down, Wryth rattled her own sword and caught Prolonger’s eye with her own stern one. He folded his arms.

I started into my planned speech. “Nobody can win the war in Crideon…”

All my love,

Ybel