Anyone protesting finds themselves injured or worse. Healer Ronald couldn't do anything for me. It's thanks to Healer Mark that I am alive and can watch my daughter grow up.

A steady rain was pounding on the roof of the tent when Nick woke up for the umptieth time with a dripping nose. He reached under his improvised pillow—a jumper filled with mostly clean socks—and grabbed his handkerchief. The piece of cloth was already soaking wet, but since he had packed no other, he wiped his nose clean and stuffed it back. Drifting back to sleep, he cleared his throat to get rid of the dry, annoying tickle. It turned into a cough instead.

Gods, he was getting sick. Again.

"Ugh, now I'm really awake. And I have to piss." Vic got up from his spot and stepped over him. "Thanks, Nicky."

"I can't help it." His voice sounded rough, and his throat ached when he talked. As he felt another cough coming, he pulled his fur over his head. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

A clattering sound came from outside, followed by Vic cursing him, "Son of Sloth, Nicky, you didn't do the dishes!"

Nick groaned as he got out of his coughing fit. He had been too tired after dinner, and Jasper hadn't complained. With a bit of luck, the rain would soak away most of the soot and dark crown crusts on the edges. He had calculated it: little effort, maximum hours of sleep.

Nothing to go wrong...

The next time he opened his eyes was when a crouching silhouette was shaking him away. "Nicky, Vic's gone! I think they took him."

That was impossible. The Lieutenants always took the youngest of the patrol for their game, and that would be him. Not Vic. He yawned in Dan's face, already dozing off again. "Vic went out to pee. He'll be back soon."

"No, Nicky, that was like an eternity ago. I've been awake for a while cause you snore, man. And I've heard other patrols running too. I think they're doing the first batch tonight."

"Don't bother me. Wake up Jas."

Nick's eyes were falling shut again. He was walking through Sunstone Castle, wearing the warmest of jumpers and carrying the thickest book he had found in the library. Just as he descended to the stables to visit Billy, his jumper turned sticky wet and his book morphed into a training sword.

A bright light blinded him. It was Sam waving a lantern in his face. "Vic's still gone. Emergency meeting. Now."

Nick rose up, his head aching in protest. Jasper, Dan, and Eric were huddled together in a circle in the middle of the tent, all geared up in chainmail and their sword in their hand. He moaned. Slumping back into his fur seemed like a much better option than whatever his comrades had in store for him. "Do I really? I'm not well."

"Get your lazy butt over here, overdramatic little Princess," Jasper grumbled. "I wanted to sleep too, but you don't hear me nagging about it."

As he crawled closer, a tickle formed in his nose. He didn't have time to grab his handkerchief, so he aimed the powerful sneeze into his hands, spraying snot all over.

Fantastic. When were the Gods ever on his side?

"Seven Hells, Nicky, I wished they had taken you." Jasper flinched a little as Nick wiped his hands clean, using a clean handkerchief that Sam had pulled out of his backpack. "Do you know any of the high officers—an uncle or cousin that arranged this for you?"

"No." He blew his nose. It was only half a lie. "Maybe they didn't take me cause I'm sick."

"I doubt that."

"Nicky has one of the highest scores in the Academy. I'm sure they just wanna see what kind of strategy he'll come up with," Sam said, to which Nick nodded along. It was an even better excuse, and probably the truth too.

"So did Bart when he was Nicky's age. They took him too. After all, it's the patrol leader who decides the strategy." Jasper narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him. "There's something fishy about this, and I don't like fish."

"You're a halfbood Jade Islander who doesn't like fish?" Eric chuckled. "Your mother must be so disappointed."

"She was until she met you lot," Jasper retorted, to which Eric replied with a snort.

Nick faked a snore. "Instead of bickering and wasting precious seconds of sleep. What's the plan?"

"Finally an intelligent remark." Jasper reached for his boot and placed it in the middle. "My shoe is the officers' quarters. And..." He pulled off one of his wooden bracelets and put it near Dan's leg. "... this is our tent. Eric and Dan, you go left through the forest. Sam and I follow the tents on the right, and Nicky, you'll sneak right behind Eric and Dan. When they're battling with one of the Lieutenants, you run as fast as you can to free Vic. Understood?"

Before he could reply, an attempt to stifle the pressure of a sneeze came out as a series of coughs. He groaned. His head ached even more now.

"Not to complain, Jas," Dan said. "But aren't you afraid that the Lieutenants are gonna hear Nicky from miles away? Plus, he can't be the runner— it's Nicky."

"Vic should have been here in his stead," Jas sneered. "But here we are now. This is the plan, and this is what we're gonna do. Gods know how long ago they took Vic. We have to leave now."

"But maybe not with Nicky." Sam placed his hand on Nick's forehead. "He's feverish. I think he should see Healer Ed, Jas."

"He has a bloody cold, Sammy. Not the plague."

"It might be the plague." Nick was studying Jasper's oversimplified map of the camp. The quarters where they kept Vic was at least half a mile from the tent, but the distance between Healer Ed's quarter and that of the Lieutenants was a good hundred feet at the most. "The only one who can tell me for sure is a Healer."

When he looked up, he only received vacant stares in return. Dan and Eric briefly looked at each other, puzzled, and Sam blinked rapidly. Then Jasper let out a gasp of understanding. His patrol leader grinned. "You're a sneaky little genius, Nicky."

Eric raised his hand. "Not sure I follow."

"You can hear that I'm sick, right?" Nick coughed deliberately, emphasising every step of his plan. "That means I have an excuse to walk past any of the other patrol members and the guards, telling them I'm not part of the game, that I'm just on my way to see Healer Ed."

"Guards?" Sam cocked his head. "You mean the Lieutenants?"

"Yeah, of course." Nick shook his head, startled by his own stupidity. The Lieutenants were only referred to as guards when they were patrolling the castle. Not every Lieutenant became a guard, but many of the guards were present at the camp. "I'll keep it short at the Healer's. Then, as I come out, I run to the quarters, and—BAM—I free Vic."

"We can't do this," Dan murmured. "It's cheating."

"It's only cheating if we get caught. I like it—good job." Jasper smacked Nick's back with such force that he let out a fresh series of coughs. "Let's get going, lads. We'll let Nicky do his thing and pretend to participate just like the other games. I want those points—show Lieutenant Stephen and the Captain that I can be a leader too."

"One thing, though," Nick said as he gasped for air. "I'm gonna need someone to come with me, to have my back when I run from Healer Ed to the officers' quarters. Because during that stretch, I'm part of the game and I can get attacked. I won't have any weapon with me so I'll be an easy target."

"Not that you would be useful with one, anyway. Eric, you're going with Nicky. The rest comes with me. We'll perform the usual tactic."

"Why me?" Eric made a long face. "I like creeping from tent to tent without getting noticed. You know I'm really good at that."

"Because you're the best swordsman in our patrol," Jasper explained. "Do what you can to get Nicky to the gate. I don't care how many bruises you get, or whether you break your sword. We must win this."

Nick nodded. It was their best shot at saving Vic, and he wanted to see a Healer anyway. It was the tale of the two birds and that one stone. Or rather, three birds because his plan involved not wearing any chain mail. Despite potentially dying of the plague, the Gods were actually on his side tonight.

They were hardly out of the tent when Eric shouted at two silhouettes fighting in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, "Don't attack us. I'm taking him to the Healer."

Nick resisted Wrath's temptation to punch Eric. Had he been a Lieutenant and seen two muttonheads acting so suspiciously, he would have never believed them.

The biggest of the two silhouettes pushed the other to the ground, grabbing his opponent's wooden sword and throwing it away. The attacker had thick arms and even thicker neck. Nick had no idea who he was. As the man approached them, his figure became clearer. He had four leaves on his uniform and a badge depicting a flock of seagulls flying around a sycamore tree.

The Captain of the Port of Diligence. Captain Oswald.

What was he doing at the training camp?

"And where do the two lads think they are going? He grinned, his golden tooth as ugly as the moustache hanging over his upper lip.

"I'm sick." Nick forced a cough out of his lungs and sniffed extra loudly, gurgling the snot in his throat.

As if that wasn't convincing Captain Oswald, Eric added, "I was told by my Serjeant to take him to the Healer. Nicky has a fever."

Footsteps of running men caught the Captain's attention. He pushed Eric aside and started running. Jasper, Sam, and Dan came storming up the hill, their swords ready to attack the Captain. As wood clashed on wood, he and Eric continued their part of the mission.

They stumbled into Healer Ed's tent not much later. To his surprise, the bald man wasn't asleep, but he was sitting in a wooden rocking chair, his typical monocle glued to his left eye. Three different chandeliers were burning, providing him with enough light to read a thick book called 'The Marvel of Humans'.

He turned the page. "Yes?"

"My comrade isn't feeling well." Eric pushed Nick, which almost made him fall. "We think he has the plague."

"If that's true, then I best kill the both of you before it spreads," The man said in all seriousness. When Eric froze, he winked. "Come here, Nick, let me see."

Nick cringed upon hearing his own name, but Eric seemed to be oblivious to the familiarity of the Healer. The second biggest blabbermouth of the patrol did what he did best: talking. "So does that mean I need to be examined too? Cause we are a bit in a hurry. We still have to rescue our fellow comrade. The Lieutenants came for him, instead of Nicky. I think it's because he's sick, or because he's smart. We're not too sure."

"Lieutenants are trained to smell the plague from far away." Healer Ed chuckled, tapping his nose. He grabbed something that looked like a thin blunt knife from a side table and held Nick's chin down. "Yeah, open that mouth of yours. Perfect. Move a bit closer to the light, lad."

As he shuffled closer, the man stuck the blunt metal object in his throat. He held his breath not to cough but jerked away from the healer to do so anyway. "I don't understand why I'm sick again. I had belly fever like a moon ago."

"The first year in the army is always the toughest, lad. On the mind and body. You'll grow out of it."

"I think it's because he took a dive into the creek, Healer Ed," Eric said. "We found him rusting in his chainmail. It's no wonder he's sick, really."

"Hmmm..." Healer Ed walked to the back of the room, where he kept a variety of flasks and bottles on a cupboard that consisted of a few planks bound by a limited amount of bolts. "I don't like the sound of that, but I can assure you that it's no plague—just the common cold. You're not the first, nor the last this week, lad. I have something here that will take the edge of the symptoms, but all I can really prescribe is rest."

Nick liked the sound of that. He turned to his comrade and smiled. "The floor is yours, Eric. I'm gonna go back to the tent and sleep until sunrise."

"B-But... what about Vic?"

His sheepish snort turned into a coughing fit; a punishment from the God of Pride, but the look on Eric's stammering face had been worth it. He gulped down the potion that Ed handed him. It was brown and tasted like the smell of his shoes after a hot summer day. The salty sting was still lingering in his mouth when he rejoined Eric near the flap of the tent.

"Any last orders, Cadet Nicolas?"

"Run in front of me. Clear a path for me by pushing all we want to fight you away. Play dirty if you must."

"Understood. I'm your man, but more Jas' man anyway. He's our patrol leader, but if you must know—"

"Stop talking, already. Move!"

Nick held his breath the entire way he trailed Eric. The blond soldier fought with exceptional power for someone who wasn't much taller than Seb. He slashed swords out of the hands of Lieutenants double his size and kicked anyone who came near him, thus managing the perfect opening for Nick to carry on.

He did his best he could. Heavy footsteps were already thundering behind him. The breath of their owner was closing in on him. Just as the man grabbed his shoulder, Nick leapt forwards with all his might, entering the realm of the high officers.

He had made it. His plan had worked.

A sense of euphory washed over him as the next coughing fit hit him. Neither of them lasted long. A large hand grabbed him by the shirt and turned him over with a rough flop. "Stand up, Dwarf!" It was Captain Oswald, his head shaking in anger. "I smell the blood of a cheater, and boy—does that stink."

"I wasn't cheating."

He pulled Nick up and brought him inches from his spitting mouth. "I wasn't born yesterday. I saw you and blondie before. You should get a medal from His Majesty for that performance of miserable sack of bones and skin. You got me convinced."

The Captain of the Port of Diligence reminded him of Uncle James, Laneby's stablemaster. He too could rage in with a lot of insults and threats, but it was just a matter of saying the right thing to outsmart him. Nick grinned, holding his arms up. "I never asked you not to attack me. We never claimed we weren't part of the games. Whatever interpretation you had—"

"Everybody must think you're so clever, don't they?" Captain Oswald clenched his jaw, pushing Nick to a straw bale. This wasn't going well; the pointy edges were poking his back. "Who do you think you are that you can speak to me like this?"

"He's Cadet Nicolas, and he's out of bounds, Captain." Lieutenant Stephen approached them, his hand resting on the shoulder of a crying Vic. "Orders from above."

"You Sundalers and your love for drama. Jonathan and I have the same rank. As if the General or His Majesty would have anything to say about this dwarf."

"The dwarf is more valuable to the General and His Majesty then you may believe, Captain Osward." Lieutenant Stephen jutted his chin. "You're our guest here, so I won't inform them of this little misunderstanding, but only if you release Cadet Nicolas at once. As I said, he's out of bounds."

"Bloody Sundalers."

As Captain Oswald retreated his hand and strutted off, Nick fell down, banging his head against the straw fence. But that was little punishment compared to Vic's widened eyes, a mixture of disbelief and utter betrayal that plastered his tear-stained face. "Nicky, what's going on?"

"Nothing..." He coughed, his head growing warmer than it had already been. "It's nothing. Let's get out of here."

"I don't understand. Do you know His Majesty? Is this why I..." Vic burst out into tears.

"I'm... I don't..."

"Tell me, Nicky!" Vic lashed out, the God of Wrath quickly filling his mind. Lieutenant Stephen clasped his arms tight around the brown-haired Cadet. "Why does His Majesty and the General believe I deserve to get a bag over my head as I was pissing. Why couldn't it be you who was bound to a tree, while they asked questions about my family and burnt my legs if I didn't answer? Do you want to see the wounds, Nicky? Do you?"

"That's enough, Cadet." Lieutenant Stephen bound Vic's hands behind his back, to which the boy screamed out in pain.

Nick sniffed up the snot that was threatening to drip out. He couldn't tell Vic about Laneby and his connection to Seb. Once Vic knew, the others would too, and he wasn't ready for their remarks. Let him be Nicky with the short legs who preferred studying to running. The son of Sloth was an infinite times better than admitting the King and Queen were his guardians.

Since he wasn't ready to face the plethora of flames at the bottom, he decided to crush the cinder at the top. Knowing he was treading dangerous ground, he addressed Lieutenant Stephen directly. "I wish to speak to Captain Jonathan."

Before the Lieutenant could say anything, Vic continued his tantrum, "Don't ignore me, Nicky. I've always found you an oddball. For moons, we have been studying together, but not once did you invite me to your home. Who are you? Answer me!"

"I'm sorry. I'll explain everything later, but I need to speak to the Captain first. You have to understand."

As Lieutenant Stephen clasped his hand over Vic's mouth, he said, "I'll take care of this one, bring him back to your patrol. Captain Jonathan is the sixth tent on your right—the biggest one. You can't miss it."

Nick followed the path of planks that had been put on the ground. With each step on them, mud squished from the cracks. Between the sounds of whips lashing and young men his own age yelling for their mother, two very early birds were chirping their song of the morning. The sky in between the trees was slowly colouring red and purple. It must be the lack of sleep combined with the fever that was making him so bold, but he had to do something. One last special treatment to stop all the others.

He entered the tent marked with four golden leaves on the flap. Captain Jonathan was sitting behind a make-shift desk, scratching away at a piece of paper while enjoying a breakfast of berries and pieces of apple. Nick coughed, not deliberately, which caught the man's attention. "Nicolas, what could be so urgent that you come and disturb me at five thirty?"

"I came to ask why Cadet Victor was taken instead of me for the kidnapping game. It seems unfair."

"Any other person would be glad they didn't have to go through that ordeal." The Captain dipped his feather pen into ink, then continued writing, not sparing Nick any glance. "But since you're asking—His Majesty instructed me to do so."

"But why? Serjeant Jasper already found it suspicious, and now Cadet Victor is asking questions too." He rubbed an itch from his nose. "I don't want to answer them."

"So do you want me to do it for you—is that what you're asking?"

"No, Captain, I've always said that I wanted no interference. My accomplishments should be my own, and so should my failures. His Majesty promised me that."

"His Majesty did not break his promise, Nicolas." Captain Jonathan finally looked up as he leant back in chair, his feather pen resting on the inkpot. "Do you remember what you asked him, the precise words?"

Nick nodded. "I asked that nobody from the highest officer to the lowest foot soldier was allowed to treat me any differently because of my friendship with Prince Sebastian."

"See nothing wrong with that statement?" the Captain asked. "Think. Show me that brain of yours is truly as powerful as my Lieutenants claim to be."

The Gods of Wrath and Sloth were joining forces in his mind. He was too tired to think. All he wanted were answers, not a nearly impossible riddle. But he chased the two Gods out, repeating his statement twice more. Then he realised how stupid he had been. "The General is the highest officer. King Thomas stands above the army, so he can and will treat me differently because that's who he is."

"Correct."

"But why? I'm not afraid of some torturing. I've seen worse things in Laneby, Captain."

"I can't give you the answers you seek. After all, I'm not allowed to give you special treatment, Cadet." The Captain flicked his hand, dismissing him. "Get out of my sight."

"But what do I tell my patrol?"

"I'm sure the future General of The Greenlands can come up with something."

Did he just hit a sensitive note? Captain Jonathan had been a Captain for many years, but he had never become a General. He had been too young to be chosen by King William to be his General, and when King Thomas was crowned, he was already too old. The King had chosen a friend from his own army days.

There were other ways to convince the Captain. He grinned. "I know of your affair, Captain Jonathan. A man of your stature with a seamstress—what would you think if that rumour spread among the Lieutenants, and then the rest of the camp?"

"If you want to bargain for information this way, I suggest you find something else, Nicolas." The Captain popped a berry into his mouth. "None of the lads are interested in hearing what an old man does in his spare time. Scram, before I can't resist the urge to inform the entire camp of how cosily you and Princess Alana read books together."

With a huff, Nick stormed out of the tent, not understanding why he had deserved a faith like this. Without Seb, he would have been lying in an average bed in an average house in a small and quiet village far from trouble. Where his biggest trouble was being the weakest of all the warriors. Now he was trapped between wanting to be invisible and forced to take up a role he never wanted for himself.

All because Seb was the Crown Prince. All of his problems had started there.

He contemplated not joining his patrol, wishing he could avoid them and the inevitable confrontation forever. But he wasn't a coward. His patrol had accepted him from the first day he had joined them. If his ties to the royal family were to change the way they treated him, then they weren't really his friends.

A hollowness churned through his stomach, and it wasn't hunger. He coughed a couple of times, then entered through the flap.

Five pairs of eyes looked at him. Vic sat huddled on his fur, still crying despite Sam attempting to comfort him. Dan and Eric were inspecting each other's swords and Jasper was cleaning his helmet. It was his patrol leader who approached him and bowed. "Your servants are here to serve, Your Majesty,' he sneered.

"I'm no King or Prince." He hesitated to say any more. Lies always came so easy, but the truth was far harder to sell. "I'm just like you lads. I don't—"

"You're not. Stop lying!" Vic crawled up, his fists clenched and his eyes filled with the power of Wrath once more.

Sam reached for the Cadet's shirt "Stephen warned you— be calm down, or there will be big trouble for you."

"Why? Because then precious little Nicky gets hurt," Vic spat at him. "I'm done getting treated like I'm not worth anything, like I'm expendable."

"You're not," Nick argued. "Let me explain."

That was no option. Vic lunged at him and slammed his fists into Nick's face. He fell down but had no time for any kind of response. The Cadet pounded on him, a full-body slam. In his hand a knife that moved dangerously close to his throat.