"Where in the seven hells is that boy?" Cent growled through gritted teeth. "First they've got us dressed up in century old ceremonials, now Brand's missing, and to top it all off they haven't even served us our food yet. This plan is getting shittier and shittier by the second."

Cent raised his fist to smash the table, only for Libro to catch him by the wrist. "Don't make a scene then. You'll only make it worse." Although, he doubted anyone else would notice his guardsman's outrage. Despite the grand dining hall Jarl Kriggith had set them up in, the place practically buzzed with loud banter and even louder whispering.

People of all shapes and sizes sat around a spread of tables and chairs stretching from one end of the hall to the other. Men and women, old and young, courtly nobles and grim faced peasants, some with gold still glinting on their fingers, others glittering with black glass armor hidden beneath their clothes. Something was about to happen, Libro reckoned, a tipping point, a fine line about to be crossed.

And no doubt great violence would happen soon after.

"Give the boy some slack, Cent. he's still a kid. He's probably sitting with the rebel girl right now. Those two have been damn near inseparable ever since they first laid eyes on each other. Besides, the lad can handle himself, I think. Just as long as Keela keeps her mitts off of him." Libro let go of the man's wrist and tapped at the knife hidden in the sleeve of his guardsman's jacket. "Which is why we'll keep our eyes sharp. So we don't lose him."

Cent swallowed and sat back. "Aye. As you say, Captain."

Libro sighed and turned his attention towards his wife. Elba was leaning close to Moss, whispering in his ear, the man's serious eyes darting about the room, studying the doors, the curtain covered windows, searching for potential exits, potential allies, potential enemies.

Candle light flickered from a hundred different sources, filling the room with an abundance of light and an even greater abundance of heat. Sweat trickled down Libro's back, his temples, the weight of his chainmail becoming rapidly apparent beneath his heavy clothes. And yet he felt nothing but the cold chill of anticipation in his bones.

The Jarl was arguing with someone at the head of the table. Shayn by the looks of it. They were trying to keep quiet, but the difference in subterfuge between the Vangen and the rebels was becoming vastly apparent now. The two of them murmured side mouthed with each other, one with his arms folded, the other rapidly tapping his foot against the cobblestones. Shayn's brows were furrowed deep with worry, while the Jarl looked as if he was trying to keep himself together, and failing quite miserably at it.

It took all of Libro's concentration to make out what they were saying.

"Bright eyes isn't here yet," Shayn grunted. "And you thought to give the Empire's agents a farking front row seat to the action? This ship is sinking and fast, my Jarl."

"It'll be fine," The Jarl muttered. "It'll all be fine. For once in your life, trust me on this."

Libro smiled as he leaned in and tapped Elba on the shoulder. She cocked her head towards him and he quickly gave her a peck on the cheek, lips brushing close to her ear. "Be ready," he whispered. "Something's gone wrong."

He pressed his hand against the handle of the knife hidden in his boot, its solid presence somewhat of a reassurance. He was armed, he had his wife, and he had his loyal guardsmen to protect them both. He was more than ready for whatever was about to happen.

Libro stared out at the other crowded tables, and paused as someone caught his eye. A young woman sitting close with a heap of other tough looking types, their combed hair and fresh clothes doing little to hide the roughness of battle still caked on their features, weapons carefully hidden beneath the table.

He narrowed his eyes. She looked familiar somehow. The shape of her jaw. The sharp angle of her cheeks.

The woman's eyes snapped towards him, as if she'd physically felt his gaze from across the room, and a chill ran down Libro's spine as he instantly recognized her. It was Tergrid. A flash of desperate shock ran across her face too as she stared at the empty chair beside Cent.

Deep down, Libro had a sneaking suspicion the two of them were thinking the same thing in that moment.

I thought Cinnis was with you.

A loud boom tore Libro from his thoughts. The double doors at the end of the hall bowed inward, as if the fist of a great Jotun beat against it. Silence fell over the room, the crowd's frantic chatter simmering into hushed burbles. Some rose from their seats, others sat frozen in place. Time oozed out like cold honey.

"Go on then," Jarl Kriggith said, seemingly unphased by the sudden discourse. "Let our esteemed guests in. We can't leave them out there in the bitter cold. That would be most uncivilized." His joke fell on deaf ears as the crowd shuffled nervously away, watching as two Jarlsmen opened the doors.

There was a groan, a howling of wind, a terrible, plummeting calm as Libro sat there watching and waiting. Footsteps echoed down the hall from a host of tramping boots, thundering impossibly loud as it bore down the hall like a cavalry charge.

A man appeared at the doorway, Libro thought it was a man. Its head was completely encased in a black glass helmet, as was the rest of its body, a smooth, midnight clad carapace of segmented glass plates, looming nearly a head taller than most men in the hall. Other armored soldiers spread out about the room, their leader stalking directly towards the Jarl.

All was quiet. Even the babbling from before had ceased. The only sounds came from the howling of the wind, the whispered flicker of candle light, and Libro's heart thumping in his ears.

The Jarl rose from his seat and gave a prim and proper bow. "Right Hand, it is my esteemed pleasure to have you as a guest in my humble castle. I thank you for the gracious honor of your presence here tonight."

The Right Hand said nothing, instead reaching up to remove its helmet. Pale blonde hair spilled out from beneath as it was lifted off, rivers of silver wheat cascading over the thing's breastplate as it finally revealed its face.

Libro blinked, surprised at the ashen beauty staring back at him. The Right Hand's features were like a well crafted death mask. A look of calm serenity lay chiseled in the creature's pure marble face, the weight of the world seemingly forever released from its shoulders.

It smiled, eyes fluttering ever so gently. "My, my, Jarl," It said, its voice flat and cold, a stark contrast to its graven beauty. "I did not expect such manners so far from Kel Dranor. I thank you for addressing me by my proper title. So many of your kind seem to forget themselves these days."

"Of course! Of course! As a loyal servant to the High King, I would never dream to cross you in such a way. But I really must ask as to the reason for you being here?" The Jarl leaned down, snapping up a roasted carrot from a tray and taking a bite, eyes closed as he chewed thoughtfully. "I take it you haven't come for dinner? I can save you a plate if you like, but it pales in comparison to anything the High King's kitchens have to offer."

The Right Hand smiled, unphased by Kriggith's sycophantic words. "I must sadly decline. I've not had much of an appetite lately, and sadly I've come here on the High King's orders."

"Orders? And what would the High King want with the lowly Jarl of the Unterlands? I've not but sheep and broken towers to keep me company down here these days."

"Sheep, towers, and Lightbringer rebels given the news he told me."

"Rebels? In my city?" Kriggith shook his head, no doubt lapping up every last drop of irony he was squeezing out of the situation. "That's downright impossible. I hunted down every last one of them per our last great King's orders and set them to the torch as he also recommended. You mock me and my honor, Right Hand, and I'll not stand for it!"

The Jarl spat a bit of carrot on the floor and promptly sat back in his chair.

The smile fell from the half-giant's lips. "Jarl Kriggith, let us be clear on this. You never had any honor to begin with. You were the first to bow before King Erik during his ascension, and now you think you can hide behind your veil of cowardice, but I know you're the one who's been leading the Lightbringers. I've known for a very, very long time."

There was a pause as the Right Hand let his accusation hang in the air.

The Jarl pursed his lips, stroking at his beard with two fingers. "So, finally found me out, have you? What gave it away? Was it my loose interpretation of your High King's rules? Was it my less than satisfactory monthly tithes to the coffers? Was it my open distaste for the witch he keeps in his council, or the eternal darkness he spreads across our land?"

"That," The Right Hand said. "And the secret meetings you've been having with Kaylon Vausk, Shayn Mordenson, and Olaf Karth. Three notorious Lightbringers who have no business interfering with the King's plans for Danic."

The Jarl tilted up one brow. "I see. You've been keeping tabs on me then. I'll have to figure out who betrayed me in all this, but there'll be plenty of time for that later. I suppose my little song and dance is over now. You've finally caught me."

"Will you come quietly?"

"Oh no, not a farking chance."

Libro stiffened, the rest of his group becoming equally apprehensive. The tension in the room had coiled up like a spring, clamping around them in a near vice-like grip until it was fit enough to burst apart.

"You know we'll kill every last one of you in the tower, and then burn this city to the ground. We'll end this little rebellion of yours once and for all. You would dishonor yourself as Jarl and allow all these innocent people to die because of your stubbornness?" The Right Hand took a step closer, the nearest crowd quickly pulling away. The half-giant's soldiers began to spread out, forming a half circle to cut off the main entrance.

Kriggith sat there unconvinced, eyeing the creature down. "Alas, I fear you may have been given some bad intel, Right Hand. Probably because I fed you the wrong information in the first place. I've never spoken to Vausk or Karth in my life, only my friend Shayn here." He leaned back and held a hand out, the rebel leader beside him growing stiff as a board in his chair.

"That," the Jarl continued. "And the fact that you still believe I lead this rebellion alone, after all this time."

"Do not be pedantic, Kriggith," The Right Hand snarled, clear emotion finally breaking through its ashen veneer. "Not when your life is about to end."

"Oh I'm lost on pedantism. I can assure you. I don't even know what the word means. But I'll tell you one thing. I'm not the only Jarl in Danic looking to put King Erik down for good."

The Right Hand snorted. "Did you somehow convince Gamlen or Finnbar to join you as well? Those fools were always itching for a fight. As If there's anything to fear from bog farmers and hill men."

"Oh no," Kriggith said. "Not just them. I convinced all of them. And now they're rising up with me to end this madness once and for all."

This caught the Right Hand's attention. He cocked his head to one side, studying the Jarl as if seeing him in a new light. "I see. You have been busy. It seems I truly underestimated you."

"Oh aye, I say you well and truly have. I even found some help outside of Danic that I'd like you to meet." The Jarl snapped his fingers and for a brief second Libro feared it was the Vangen he was talking about.

The double doors to the dining hall crashed shut as rebel soldiers lept up from the tables, brandishing their weapons, blocking the doors, running towards the curtain-covered windows.

The Jarl smiled as he stared down the Right Hand. "Aurora also sends her regards." And with a nod, two men snatched at the curtains and ripped them away.

***