In return for your hospitality, I can offer your people a toy that can stay in a family for generations to come, a toy that sparks joy to all who play with it. Exactly what the Sundalers require on the Feast of the Dead.

With steady and firm steps Nick marched through the stable. The first rays of sunshine peeked through the windows, outshining the flickering candles in the lanterns at every corner of the aisle. Here and there, horses were quietly munching on their hay, but most were standing up motionlessly in their boxes, still embracing the slumber of the night.

As he turned the corner to Billy's aisle, a familiar white muzzle peeped through the fence and greeted with him with a merry neigh.

He couldn't suppress his broad smile even if he wanted to. Until a moon ago, his favourite stallion had been but a miserable pile of bones and fur, but so far the treatment of crunchy royal fruits and a story twice a day had worked miracles.

As he shoved the lock of the box to one side, Billy stretched out his tongue and licked him in the face. "Yeah, here I am, boy. It may be the Feast of the Dead today, but I'm not gonna skip my visits to you."

As soon as he went in, the horse dove for his satchel and nuzzled his muzzle against the flap, sniffing.

"I have to disappoint you. No apple for you today." He pushed the satchel sideways to fish out a small carrot from the cloth in which he kept Billy's food, away from his books. "You like this too, don't you?"

He broke the vegetable into two pieces so the old horse could gobble it up more easily, but as he held the pieces in his hand, Billy snorted and stared at the flap with droopy eyes and his ears all pinned up to the back.

"Fine. I knew fooling you was a long shot." He threw the carrot to the ground and opened his bag. The last of the fresh apples he had found in the kitchen was wrapped in a separate green plaid cloth. "There was only one left, and I wanted to eat it, but alright. Only because it's you, boy."

"That ho'sie knows what he wants, Young Maste' Nicolas." Behind him, Ol' Dicky stood, pitchfork and all, carrying a heartfelt grin that revealed his black, half-broken teeth. "Ya ea'lier than usual. Is all well?"

"Yeah." He grabbed his pocketknife from his side pocket and peeled the apple. "The big master and his best friend were raiding the kitchen while I was scavenging breakfast for Billy. I left-didn't wanna take the chance that they would guilt-trip me into staying for the ceremony and the ball. I'd rather spend today will the lads."

"Don't I unde'stand ya, kiddo. But I fink it's a dang shame ya joined the a'my. Ol' Bills over the'e got all but someone who takes em out fo' a ride."

"I'm aware." Nick brushed his knee against Billy's cheek to keep him from munching the apple skins that would otherwise upset his stomach. "But the army life isn't so bad. I have a good patrol."

"Do they know who you is now?"

"Apart from Bart, no. I wanna keep it that way."

So far his accomplishments in the Academy had been because of his own hard work, and not because he happened to live under the same roof as the royal family. Despite missing half of the academic year, his grades were good. Top ten percent of the first year Cadets, according to the General.

"The gua'ds know who you is."

"Yeah, but they've sworn a vow to never reveal anything of what goes on inside the castle. My biggest worry is the fury of the big master's wife whenever I arrive late at the dinner table, but it's not gonna be an issue tonight. I'll be staying at the fair all evening, and then come back here before I go to bed." He presented the first slice of apple to Billy, who eagerly munched it up. "Really, I'm good. Thanks, Dicky."

"Well... if ya eve' change ya mind. I can always use an ext'a pai' of hands."

"You'll be the first to know, but for now I prefer being a Cadet instead of a stable boy."

"Then I leave you be, kiddo. Have a good Feast."

"You too, Dicky. See you tonight."

Nick fed Billy the second slice of apple. The Greenlander army was more his cup of tea than the warrior training back in Laneby. The lessons extended beyond hunting, sword fighting, and a constant out-achieving everybody else. Collaboration was central, and Bart didn't mind that brute force wasn't his forte.

The real test would come during the Spring camping week, but so far his patrol wasn't doing too poorly when competing against the other junior patrols. Not quite at the top of the ranking, but not at the bottom either. In the anonymous middle, which he liked.

"You want a carrot too, or shall we proceed with the book?" Nick asked when Billy had eaten the entire apple. He gathered the peels into the cloth and stuffed it back into his bag.

The stallion clenched half of a piece of carrot that laid on the hay between his teeth, biting off the tip. He lay down next to Nick and swung his tail freely. A story and a carrot.

Nick chuckled as he petted his mane. "Maybe I should tell you of how the God of Greed fell for Temperance's trap, you silly horse, but it's not a fun story. You like 'Lucas and the Horse Lords' more too, don't you?"

Billy let out a short neigh as he continued munching on the carrot.

"Good enough an answer for me." Nick took out the book and laid it open on his lap. He shuffled closer to the horse and rubbed his neck in circles. "Chapter thirty-five: 'Lay Down Your Weapons'."

The first six times that the army bugle announced the impending start of the day, Nick carried on reading, but the seventh time he had to abandon Lucas guarding the swords and bows of the Horse Lords. He stuffed the book back into his bag before wrapping his arms around Billy. The horse rested his head on his shoulder-his way of returning the favour. "I might be a little late tonight, but I'll come after all the lads have gone home."

His ears perked up then twitched, the look on his face now sullen and lacklustre.

"I'm sorry, but I'll be back before you know it. Don't despair. I won't ever forget you, boy." Nick swung the trap of his satchel over his shoulder and closed the door.

Through the fence, he waved, but Billy had already turned around. A flick of the tail was all he got.

His throat tensed as a lump formed. Both for horse and owner, saying goodbye was still the hardest part of the visit.

Nick shuffled out of the back door of the stable and crossed the meadow. The bugle called a ninth as he set foot on the bridge. A large ship with sails as grey as the clouds lay docked in the harbour. With that size, Sundale was as far as it could travel. Beyond the bridge, the river Faith only grew more narrow and there were no other towns upstream.

Not anymore anyway.

A light drizzle pouring down from the sky reminded him that he had to move on. Hundreds of patrols were already lining up in preparation for the morning inspection.

He dropped his satchel against the sycamore tree and rushed to the open spot in between Bart and Dan so the line of his patrol was complete before the bugle blasted a tenth and final time.

"You're not good for my nerves, Nicky." Bart blew out a deep exhale. He gestured at his collar, an indication that Nick hadn't fastened the top button of his uniform yet.

"Sorry," he said under his breath, fixing his shirt.

"Why does Captain Jonathan always do the morning inspections?" Dan moaned. "It takes ages, and he's so strict."

"Shht, before he hears us." Bart patted Nick on the back. "An inch more to the front, Nicky. Then we're standing all straight."

Nick was still shuffling closer when Captain Jonathan shouted from his spotted brown stallion, "Gentlemen, we are..."

"Brave and strong," chanted the men of the first legion.

"Wise and vigilant," crooned the seniors of the second legion.

Nick brought his hand to his forehead and slammed his boots together. Along with hundreds of other teenage boys, he yelled, "The strength of the future!"

"Good morning, Gentlemen!" The Captain bellowed. "I have a few messages for you. Serjeants of the first and second legion, you are required in barrack seven where you'll receive instructions from Lieutenant Peter. It will be your task to investigate the goods coming in via the harbour. Serjeants of the third legion, you will assist the setting up of the stalls on the market square. Lieutenant Stephen will be waiting for you there. No changes to the schedules of the Cadets, nor to those of the soldiers of either legion."

The rain intensified, no longer a steady fog falling down but actual drops. There was something nice about knowing that he could spend the rest of the morning on a hard wooden bench instead of practising his still non-existent archery skills in the rain. The smile on Dan's face showed that he didn't seem to mind the prospect of a drenched uniform.

The Captain steered his horse alongside the lines of the third legion. "For those of you attending the ceremony and the fair as a group, I expect each and everyone one of you to be at your best behaviour. You're men of Sundale; a paragon of courage, chivalry, and honour among the Greenlander army. Remember this. If we receive any complaints, the General or I will deal with you personally. Like every year, Princess Alana will be attending the fair..."

"The Princess!" Vic gasped so loudly that the neighbouring patrols started sniggering too.

Both Sam and Eric elbowed him immediately.

"... wish you'd never been born. Furthermore, Patrol Leaders of the third legion, can I remind you that there's a strict one-alcoholic-beverage limit for anyone under sixteen. No exceptions. You're responsible."

"Hang on... what's a paragon?" Dan asked. As usual, he was late with his remarks and musings. "Is that the stuff candles are made off?"

Nick snickered. "Muttonhead! That's paraffin. Paragon means-"

"That you idiots should all shut it," Jasper hissed at the back of the line.

"Oh, Gentlemen. I think we have a patrol volunteering for inspection today." Captain Jonathan pulled the reins, halting his horse in front of them. "Serjeant Jasper is a special one here. Last time, he didn't quite understand what razors were for. I wonder if the moons have taught him some wisdom."

Here and there came an awkward cough, but most men kept staring straight ahead. Humiliations such as these occurred on a daily basis when the Captain led the formation.

Though only up to ten patrols were picked for inspection, nobody wanted to be at the receiving end of the Captain's venomous shouts. Bart had ordered them to be ready every day because the selection was random, and nobody entirely safe. Four moons ago, Captain Jonathan had reinforced that idea by selecting the same ten patrols four days in a row, on the fifth, he had picked ten others, and on the sixth, he had gone back to the original ten.

The Captain walked towards their patrol at a slow pace, taking his precious time so they would all have to stand longer in the rain. He halted right in front of Jasper.

Any sane man would keep on fixating his stare, but not Jasper. He looked down on the Captain, their eyes locking onto each other as though they were having a staring contest.

"Little over a year ago you asked me why we didn't choose you to lead this patrol, Serjeant." Captain Jonathan sniffed. He patted the assistant patrol leader on the cheek. "It is behaviour like this that has cost you the position. If you want us to reconsider, you'll have to show us."

"I don't see why. Serving under Serjeant Bartholomew is no punishment for me."

It was a lie. Away from the senior officers, Jasper made no secret that he thought he should be Patrol Leader because he was the better fighter, and a year older than Bart.

"If I wanted your slick comments to ruin my morning, I would have asked, Serjeant." The Captain turned to Sam, eyeing him from head to toe. He grabbed the soldier by the chin and inspected both ears. "Nothing to comment on, Samuel. If every man were like you, the inspections would take far less time. Still not applying to become a Cadet? If memory serves me well, you'll soon be too old."

"That's correct, Captain." Sam nodded. "But I'm not meant to sit still all day. I like where I am and who I'm serving. I'm positive it won't change after my sixteenth birthday."

"Very well." The Captain stepped aside. "Cadet Victor. I had the unfortunate pleasure of correcting your tests the other day. Serjeant Bartholomew has informed me that Cadet Nicolas is tutoring you. It should be the other way around. Your comrade has arrived here less than two moons ago, yet his grades are twice as good. Care to explain what you've been doing these past few weeks?"

"Nicky is so much smarter than I am, Captain," he spoke in a low, brittle voice. "I mean... Cadet Nicolas is. I try but... it's hard."

"Are you gonna weep now, Cadet Potato Bag?" The Captain kicked Vic against the boots, who shot up with a loud gasp. "Pray tell me, are you a man or a baby?"

"I'm... I'm..."

"Captain, I'll ensure his grades improve," Bart intervened.

"I don't recall speaking to you, Serjeant. Your time will come." The Captain gnashed his teeth before moving to Eric, who had to show that he had cleaned his sword.

Nick reached for his own sheath. Uh... Oh... He had totally forgotten to clean the mud-stains from yesterday's practice. Not that he had actually fought, but while coming up with a strategy to rain the enemy camp, he had leaned on the hilt and poked the blade into the damp ground. Back in the castle, after his post-dinner visit to Billy, he had found the books the Princess had put on his bed and stayed up late to read the first couple of chapters to determine what order to read them in.

"Daniel, we're looking a little peaky today, soldier." The Captain had changed his tone to a more hushed one, the sudden friendliness almost a trap. "When was the last time you had a meal?"

"Yesterday, in the canteen, Captain."

"Did you manage to save any of your wages?"

"No, Captain." Dan shook his head, his eyes set on his shoes. "My father gets angry if I hide it."

A twinge of guilt settled in Nick's stomach. He could have easily grabbed some sandwiches from the kitchens without anyone noticing or caring. Dan was not the brightest star in the heavens, but he was his comrade. The one free meal the army offered was not enough for anyone to remain strong and healthy.

"Come and see me after training. You and I are gonna look for a solution-this can't keep happening."

"I will. Thank you, Captain."

Captain Jonathan moved another step. It was Nick's turn, and apart from the sword, he wasn't particularly worried. Besides, he could take a little scolding. It would be nothing that Alex hadn't told him before.

"Cadet Nicolas, I wish I only had to ask you to grow taller." The Captain pressed Nick's fringe against his forehead. "But you reek of horse and are in desperate need of a haircut. Your grades may lead you to believe that you can become a serjeant sooner than others in this legion, but not with this appearance. Do you live in a stable?"

"No, Captain." Nick raised an eyebrow. The man was clearly exaggerating, and that was not according to his agreement with His Majesty. He wanted to be treated like the other Cadets, not gentler nor harsher. His hair was getting long, but it was nowhere near as messy as Sam's or Dan's, or as exotic as Jasper's cornrows or Bart's small braids. And even if he smelled like Billy, this was the army, not a beauty pageant.

"Do you kiss your mother with that face, Cadet?"

He gulped but pressed his lips shut to defy the God of Wrath. It was a hard blow, below the belt too. What had he ever done to deserve this treatment from the Captain? He was one of his best students.

The man yanked his chin up, his eyes twitching with dismay. "I asked you a question, Cadet Nicolas."

"No, I don't."

"You don't what?"

"I don't kiss my mother with this face, Captain!" Nick spat.

Captain Jonathan didn't spare him another glance as he lectured Bart about keeping his patrol in check. Nick's breaths remained deep and rapid throughout the rest of the inspection. If the Captain believed his snappy remarks would make him run to his superiors, he would be so wrong. He could take care of himself and didn't need the General or the King to interfere.

"Don't fret, Nicky," Bart said as the bugle's long drawn-out note announced the end of the formation. "There's no pleasing the Captain. He loves terrorising people, but he has a heart of gold. It's just who he is."

"The man speaks the truth, even if it's not what we wanna hear," Jasper said. "Vic's grades are awful, Dan's father is an ass, and Nicky, man, you definitely smell like you've bathed in stable dung. Seriously, lads, we'll never become the best patrol like this. Don't you wanna shake hands with the General and His Majesty at the end of the military year?"

The soldiers and Vic nodded in agreement. His life had become so absurd. If Jasper wanted to shake hands with General George and King Thomas, then all he had to do was invite him to dinner.

He could never do that. Jasper was one of those people who would never stop asking favours if he knew he slept in the castle. "I can't promise that will happen, Jas. But I can help Dan. My horse didn't really wanna eat his carrots, so you can have them. They're in my satchel."

"You're the best, Nicky," Dan cried out and rushed to the sycamore tree. It would be his first meal in nearly twenty-four hours.

"This." Bart gesticulated to Jasper. "It's far more important to me than shaking hands and receiving some medal. The comradeship in this patrol is important. Nothing else."

"But you do want us to win, right, Bart?" Sam asked.

Jasper bumped his fist into Bart's arm. "Yeah, man, where did your ambition go?"

"I have it, but I'm not blinded by what's happening at the top. The glory and honour will come automatically if we work together as a team." Bart eyed him. "Nicky, I want you to keep an extra eye on Vic today. You've already worked hard to bring his grades up, but I've heard he's often not paying attention in class. Sam, I need you to do the same for Dan and Eric. Make sure they actually practice instead of running around like imbeciles. Understood?"

Nick nodded. He'd rather follow the class without interruptions, but keeping Vic focused was needed. He was often staring out the window instead of listening to what their teachers had to say. "I still have a question though. My... erm... guardian told me I'd get a mask for the feast. The Captain didn't mention it so do you know when we'll get it?"

"Last year they handed them out over lunch, but it has changed a couple of times over the past few years. Jas and I will check."

"Oh, man, you're so incredibly sly." Jasper snorted. "You always say 'Jas and I' when you don't know. You've got the extra crown, take the responsibility that comes with it, or give the badge to me."

"Have you ever heard of shared accountability, Jas?" Bart grinned. "Besides, I thought you didn't mind serving under me."

"I don't but..." Jasper tugged at the corners of his shirt. "... the reign of Patrol Leader Jasper would be better."

Better at failing.

Nick reached for the pockets of his trousers before he realised that he wasn't allowed to do that-old habits died hard. In the other patrols, the oldest Serjeant was always the leader. Bart would have to quit the army or promote to Lieutenant if Jasper ever wanted to boss them around.

That day could never come.

"I'm heading to the Academy. See you at lunch." Nick waved his comrades goodbye.

"Not me. I'm following you, Nicky," Vic announced. "Have I ever told you that Princess Alana once winked at me? I was six, and she was seven, and I swear she was in love with me."

"Yeah, I think I've heard that story." Nick swung his satchel over his shoulder and stuffed the now empty cloth in a side pocket, where he also put his knife. Vic had such an unhealthy obsession with the Princess that the only reason he applied to the Academy last spring was that he had learnt that only Princes and Generals were allowed to marry her.

Since Vic was as dim as ditchwater, Princess Alana nor The Greenlands had anything to fear. Still, he hadn't found it in his heart to tell him that she couldn't remember him. It would crush his dreams forever, and his chance to remain a normal Cadet.

Weaponry was taught by Lieutenant Patrick. The black-haired man was not as strict as the Captain, but he always raved on endlessly about his weapon of the day.

"An ordinary blade, I see you all thinking." He swung the sword in a long, wide arc, which the students at the front had to evade. "Yet more important than you might think. Does anyone know why you all have a weapon like this one?"

Nick looked around;there was nobody raising his hand. Vic was already doodling the Princess in the side margins of his book. He jerked his elbow against his comrade's, beckoning him to pay attention.

"Cadet Nicolas, is there anything you would like to say?" Lieutenant Patrick asked.

Not really, but he was left without a choice. "Erm... maybe because they're cheap to produce. They're forged here in Sundale. The leather on the hilt is from local cows, and the iron only has to come from the quarry near Whiskerhalll."

"Good answers, but let me focus on the most important part." He placed the sword on the table at the front and picked up a rusty stone. "Iron."

Not another lesson about battling magicians. Nick sunk low on the bench. Had it been any other teacher, he wouldn't have dared, but Lieutenant Patrick hardly ever critiqued his students.

He wouldn't go as far as stating that the only magician he wanted dead was Katla; all the others could keep on living their ordinary lives as long as they didn't bother him. The Gods had created them so they too must have a purpose in this world.

"... don't underestimate iron. In the last war with Silvermark, we held twenty magicians hostage just by chaining them in iron. Gone were their powers and gone was their threat."

"Why keep them hostage?" Nick pondered out loud. "Why not kill them?"

"Military Tactics is not my domain of expertise, Cadet Nicolas. Nor is History." Lieutenant Patrick leant on the sword. "But that I can explain. One of them was the younger brother of King Tigris-a very valuable asset to negotiate peace terms. Sadly, we didn't know who of the twenty was Manul, but for a few weeks, there were magicians breathing Greenlander air."

Nick turned to his book. For ten whole years a Fire Magician had breathed the air of Laneby, but now it became clear why Katla hadn't simply killed Fox. As best friend to the Crown Prince, he was an asset for King Ariel too-a way to bargain with the Greenlanders.

Which meant that he was still alive.

No. King Thomas would never want him back in The Greenlands, not even to please Seb, so Fox was useless.

The redhead kept Nick's mind occupied for the rest of the class and for the majority of his lunch break. His thoughts flipped back and forth-alive or dead. An asset or a nuisance.

He regretted not reading that letter all those moons ago. Just a quick peek would have helped to at least partly solve the mystery.

"What kind of torture instrument did Lieutenant Patrick show you this time?" Jasper asked as he shoved his container full of red mush aside to Dan.

"An iron blade," Nick muttered. Fox must be dead for King Thomas had told him to prepare for the worst, and there was nothing worse than dying.

Sam laid his hand on Nick's forehead. "Nope, no fever. Nicky's just insane."

"I'm not. It's nothing."

"It's today." Dan attacked Jasper's container. "I hate it too, Nicky. Everybody's all happy and cheery that we should celebrate another year amongst the people we love. My mother passed away years ago, giving birth to my sister. This day just reminds me of all that went wrong in my life. And what could have been."

"I didn't lose anyone." The lie came without a moment's thought.

"Then why do you live with your guardian? Only orphans have those," Vic asked.

"It's... because... it's complicated." He sighed as the questionable looks didn't leave their faces. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Bart rose up. "Grab your masks, lads. It's time to head to the temple."

"But I haven't finished," Dan said with a mouthful of mush. "And the temple doesn't open until fourteen minutes after two."

"We're leaving," Bart insisted. "I'll buy you a pancake at the fair if you're still hungry."

The entire market square had filled with people already, causing humongous queues in front of the temple. The stalls were all officially closed, but here and there, the merchants were already chatting up some interested customers and showing them their jewellery, perfumes, or weapons.

"Stop fidgeting," Sam snarled when Eric couldn't take his hands of the string around his mask.

"Oops. Too late." Eric shrugged, showing the loose end of the string.

"Give that here." Sam shook his head. "You only received it over lunch and you broke it already."

"We could have foreseen this." Jasper looked at Bart. "He's bored, like the rest of us. If everyone came at two, then none of Sundale would have to wait this long."

"You're all pessimists." Bart waved the criticism away. "The clouds are gone. The weather is nice. We're not knee-deep in mud. Soon I'll have a cup of wine in my hands, and then I'll be a truly happy man."

"I know something that isn't boring." Dan folded his arms, a twinkle forming in his eyes. "Captain Jonathan told me that the General will still be joining His Majesty and Lord Sebastian."

"B... but why?" Vic asked, panic apparent in his voice. "Don't tell me King Thomas will announce the General's engagement to Princess Alana. She's mine."

"Yeah, keep on dreaming, man." Jasper punched Vic's arm. "Even if your grades doubled, you'll never be a General. History has taught us that the General is a man close to the King, already since boyhood. You stand no chance whatsoever."

Nick hid a smile behind his hand. The General only took a part in the ceremony because Alex was and he wasn't. Priest Aurelius had made a fuss about the asymmetry of men and women being an insult to the Gods. Though the masks would have made it easier to join the royal family at the front, spending the day with his comrades had appealed him more.

When the doors were finally opened, the people in front of him dissolved steadily. Despite being early, he was sitting far from the altar. Even with the mask on, it was evident that Seb was scanning the rows in search of him.

It wasn't that hard. He was sitting by the aisle. Too bad he couldn't just stand up and wave. If he did that, he would have to peel potatoes until Spring.

One by one, children on their bare feet scuffled by with their offerings. He couldn't take his eyes of the small girl with light blonde hair that was carrying a pile of books. His fingertips itched to run up to her and yank off her mask.

But she wasn't Abby. She couldn't be.

As she passed, she tripped over her white dress and the books dropped to the floor, scattering in every direction.

He hopped off his seat and picked them up before crouching by her. Through her mask, her pale blue eyes peered at him.

His heart quickened, pumping all blood to the growing lump in his throat. Not Abby. Just another little girl in need of help.

"Here," he whispered. "It's fine. You're doing great."

"But you're not." Bart grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back into the aisle. "And everybody's staring. Sit down."

Retaking his seat, he pulled off his mask and put it on his lap to allow his breathing to normalise. Dan had been right. Everything about today emphasised that what he had lost and would never have again.

Laneby. Mother. Fox. Sweet little Abby. Even the gap between him and Alex and Seb was growing wider each day.

"Nicky?" Bart leant closer. "You have to put the mask back on. I understand this is hard. I was there at the gate when Lord Sebastian arrived. I'll buy you a cup of wine at the fair."

"I don't like wine."

"Me neither, but it slows your mind and lessens the pain."

Nick nodded. That prospect sounded promising.