Eric stared down at his hands, pale and scarred. The scars used to mean something to him - battle wounds from training.

Now? He couldn't remember why he'd ever coveted them. Hadn't it been something about bravery and earning his place? Nothing came easy, even when your gift was combat.

Looking up, Eric saw the gated entrance to Achal. Larger than Treywick, it was the western hub for trading goods. All western life happened through Achal. It'd been three days since they'd left Treywick, and Eric had never been more at peace.

Or more bored.

"Orders, sir?" Jensa, his eye still blackened by the blow he'd received from Maverick Knight, stepped up to Eric's side. He'd been far more cowed since they left Treywick. It might have been because Eric threatened to end his life in the most painful way possible if he ever tried to go above him ever again.

Those things tended to unnerve a person.

They'd avoided Achal on their way, choosing to trek the entire way to Treywick, planning on hitting other cities on their way back.

"Is the northern unit handling the cities and towns on the western half?" Eric asked Samson. His Second nodded, and a wave of thankfulness at his Second's quiet nature hit him. "Good." Turning to Jensa, Eric cocked a brow. "Men will camp outside of the city gates. We won't be in Achal long."

"Not long?"

"There's no reason to stay. Achal isn't like Treywick. They're loyal. If we asked for the mayor's head on a platter, they'd give it to us. They'll turn over any traitors forthwith."

"But sir-"

With one swift slice of his fist, Eric smacked Jensa across the cheek has hard as he could. The soldier reeled, nearly falling to the ground before he recovered. Eric stood over him, his head tilted to the side.

"Don't question me. I don't like it."

Beside him, Samson let out a long, slow breath. When Eric turned to look at him, Samson's focus remained on the city gates. Pushing his shoulders back, Eric dismissed the momentary discomfort he felt at Samson's sigh - it wasn't his job to know what went on in the mind of his Second.

"Have the men set up camp. Steele and I will enter the town and announce our presence." Eric marched off without looking back at Jensa, Samson falling into step beside him.

###

Achal bustled with buildings as high as three stories lining the streets, which teamed with life at only mid-morning. Eric and Samson walked with heads held high, eyes forward. People parted for them as they walked down the center of the street. Horses paused, carriages and carts were halted. What first began as murmurs and whispers turned into shouts of excitement and callings of blessings down on Samson and Eric.

In the past, such attention might have made Eric blush or feel unworthy. Today he kept his chin high, his focus on the central town hall. It stood tallest above all other buildings, with arching latticework and four pointed turrets. The red and brown brick glittered in the morning light, the two story front doors currently closed.

It was Achal's own mini castle.

Eric ascended the steps, the crowd behind them stopping at ground level to watch them enter. The large oak doors, one foot thick, creaked open as they reached the top, a thin, pointed man standing just beyond them.

"Commander Lee," Mayor Grimwald said, dipping into a shallow bow. "My congratulations on your promotion. We are honored by your presence."

Eric dipped his head, assessing Grimwald. The sallow skin, sharp nose, and pursed lips gave him the impression Grimwald had one foot already in the grave, but his eyes - so clear they were almost white - were as alive as ever.

"Mayor Grimwald, Adonai's blessing on you and yours."

"Please, come in."

Grimwald led them into the sanctum of the town hall. The vaulted ceilings of the entryway rivaled the holy temples in Osha. Stained glass bedecked the windows, allowing a kaleidoscope of sunbeams to shine through. White marble splayed beneath their feet, their steps echoing in the quiet space.

When they'd been seated in a comfortable sitting room and offered tea, Grimwald's drawn face drooped even further.

"What brings you here, Commander?"

"We're returning from a visit with Treywick."

Grimwald's brow arched. "A successful trip, I hope?"

"Too successful." Eric's lips pressed into a flat line. "We wanted to check in and see if you're aware of anyone...discontent."

Grimwald darkened, his brows crouching low. "I believe I heard a muttering not too many days ago. If you will give me a few days, I will have my associates track down the thread."

"We would appreciate it."

The rest of the meeting passed as they often did, with Grimwald updating Eric on everything of note happening in the city, adding anything they could use support or supplementation from the throne for. When they'd finished, Eric and Samson left, the latter not having uttered a word.

As they walked back to camp, Eric addressed Samson. "Do you have a problem?"

Samson's brows arched. "Problem?"

"You've been far too quiet."

"My apologies, Commander. I'm afraid I've been distracted."

"About?"

"Osha." Samson released a slow breath. "I feel weary already. But I'm sure Grimwald will have information for us shortly."

###

Two days later, Grimwald sent word to Eric. Within an hour of returning to discuss the mayor's findings, four people had been rounded up by Army soldiers and brought to the square in front of town hall: an elderly man, his wife, a woman in her middle years and a young man.

One was missing.

"Where's your son?" Eric asked the third woman, whose brown hair had been pinned up atop her head. She pursed her lips, her glower leaving him unfazed.

"I have no son."

Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I know you, Ella. I know your son. He's no child. Do you expect me to believe he knew nothing of your affiliations?"

Dark brown eyes alight with fiery anger met his own. "You'll never find him."

Eric sucked in a breath, seeing something in her he hadn't seen outside of the portrait hall in Osha. His next words he kept at a whisper. "Ella. Tyrella Tremaine."

Eyes widening, the woman's mouth clamped closed, her cheeks flushing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Liar. Eric gestured to her. "Take this one. I want our fastest to ride with her back to Osha and put her in the dungeon until I return." He glanced at the other three. "Kill the others. We leave at once."

Without waiting to see the executions, Eric turned on his heel and marched back in the direction of camp. Samson silently followed and Jensa caught up to them.

"We're leaving? Why? Who is that woman? Where are we going now?"

Eric ignored most of Jensa's questions. "We're going after her son. He's left the city."

"We don't even know which direction to look."

"I do."

"How?"

Eric ignored the man, his whole body cold. Tyrella Tremaine. Tarvril's missing wife. He knew exactly where her son was headed.

The heir was on his way to the Militia.

DUN DUN DUN!
Another twist in the fabric of the story! Could it be true? Could this be Tyrella Tremaine, and could her son be a THIRD freaking heir to add to the two we already know about?

Is it going to be a race to the throne? Is anything we've ever believed about this story really true?

It's a shorter chapter today, as I'm on vacation with my family in Florida. Woo! Comment below. I can't wait to hear your thoughts :)