His father had promised him, nearly five years ago, that his job would be an extremely easy one.

  He just needed to sit in the meetings of the Council, thrice a week, sign a document a the end of each, and bring binders full of documents at the end of every week to the Regent’s office, at the other side of the palace. For doing just that, he got a monthly wage of 3900 Murls, less than the ministers who sat in the council, but very much thrice the minimum wage, plus there were multiple bonuses a year and given that the Council had meetings out of the capital a couple of times every year, his trip there was also paid and so were any expenses of his stay there.

  Of course, there were things like an oath of secrecy, and other of obedience, and the amount money in his bank account was public for anyone who solicited that information, but out of that, until right that morning, two days after the prince had dumped that provincial noble girl, the job of Ludis de Crato, Eyes of the King, had an easy job.

  Then that morning, the prince came in Crato’s office right after he himself had arrived, at the first hour of the morning, all down and mopey and talking about how much he was regretting something, about how doing that, even if she insisted on it, was a dumb idea, how there had to be some other way, but that it was already too late to fully fix everything. To be honest, Crato didn’t listen to any of it, he offered him a handkerchief, grabbed some liquor, he didn’t really know what kind, none of the bottles were labeled; and simply drank while looking at the garden from one of the windows until his Highness had calmed enough to either leave or actually talk with him.

  Regretably for Crato, it was the latter.

  “Lord Crato, I would like you to help me.” He said, sniffling.

  “As in, a favor? Your Highness, with all due respect, would there not be better people to help you in the court than the man who brings you documents?” He took a long sip from the glass, he couldn’t quite identify what it was, a problem from using alcohol more to get drunk than anything else. “If you’re looking for some of let’s say, ‘my profile’, I know most of them in the capital, unfortunately, I can just write down their phone numbers for you, or better, talk with the Office of the palace so they can get private audiences with you.”

  He turned around and glanced at the prince.

  “No, I… um…” The Regent was looking down, wiping away a couple of tears that had wet his face while Crato looked away. “I want you to do it, as the King’s Eyes.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Your Highness. I don’t get what you’re asking me.” He was always using some awfully informal language, but the current, at least on paper, ruler of the country never seemed to mind, he liked that.

  “You are the Eyes of the King, right Lord Crato?” The prince asked.

  “Yes, I hold that office, your Highness. It’s a good job, and I’m quite grateful for having it. So, what are you asking me?” He was seeing the implications a full ten leagues away and he felt like if the alcohol was burning inside his throat.

  “To do it.” The prince replied, as if he was asking something ordinary. “I want you to be my eyes.”

  Crato groaned, audibly. There it was.

  According to an unfortunately thick pile of official documentation, the office of the King’s Eyes involved a whole lot more than simply sitting down, signing a few papers and bringing the guy that was supposed to be in charge paperwork to sign. It was an ancient position in the Court, one that had existed pretty much since the foundation of the kingdom and across time had been diplomatic, advisory or more often than not, it was the title given to the king’s spymaster. Crato had heard stories from his own predecessor, the late Lord Larza, whose cunning behind the scenes, among palace halls in various countries, had managed to stop not one but five large scale wars from even beginning all across the continent; and one about how he conducted a purge through the entire government apparatus once the brief regency of the Queen dowager had started.

  In other words, despite how hard he didn’t want to believe it, technically this meant he would have to actually work.

  “Your Highness.” He said, a corner of his lips twitching, his voice honey sweet. “I have no idea of what you’re talking about.”

  Crato felt a sharp pain inside his mind, the sudden realization that he had completely failed to give a convincing excuse. He groaned again.

  “Alright, I will.” He blurted, turning around. “But what do I get in exchange?”

  Prince Rull rose from the chair he had sat on, it just happened to be the most uncomfortable one in the entire office, which isn’t saying much given that Crato had personally selected every single one for maximum comfort, but still. “In exchange?”

  “Well, of course. Your majesty, despite what ‘my title’ may imply here, I’m merely another civil servant. I’m not skilled for more diplomacy than sweet-talking someone into paying for my drink. If I can be this crass. If you want me to do something beyond why I’m here, I should get some kind of incentive for my work, shouldn’t I?”

  He looked at the prince, who in turn was staring blankly at him. A small drop of sweat, enough to be felt but not to be noticed, was on Crato’s forehead.

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  The prince then nodded. “Sounds fair.”

  He brought one of his hands up and scratched his hair. Crato had always thought he probably needed to shorten it a bit, or maybe keep it tidier, otherwise he always looked like someone who was severely uninterested even in feigning interest for state matters. Which to be fair, he more than suspected that was exactly the case.

  “How about a summer stay in Lardam? I can talk with the Duke to let you use the palace Lady Wynthart and I used.”

  Crato blinked. Spending any time in Lardam, the Jewel of the Green Sea, was awfully expensive; it was, after all, a retreat for the richest. He had been there a few times, more as a tourists than anything, but he thought the city was beautiful and he had had some fantastic time at its teahouses, and what they become once the night falls and those who are not yet ordering alcohol get a chance to visit the backs. He had been once at the carnival too, right in summer, and had been fascinated at a city that for a week became a masked ball of gorgeous costumes, silent dances on the streets and sweets imported from abroad that could only be found there. With a summer there, he could even court some local lady and finally get married. As it stood, it was a great offer.

  “So, what do I have to do?” He asked the prince, trying to remain stone-faced so that he couldn’t see that he had already accepted the deal, probably.

  “Have you read the newspapers?” The prince asked, briefly looking down. “About what happened the night before yesterday and all that.”

  Right. Crato always made it a point, like any sane person does, to never read any gossip. Of course, he had heard about what happened, but as far as it concerned him, the boss must have had good reasons to throw that girl away. It was a shame though, she was pretty.

  “I do read the press, yes.” He answered. Smooth.

  “I want you to find the one who wrote the article saying I must have drugged her.”

  Both of Crato’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t particularly surprised, to be honest, this kind of nonsense was very much in line with His Highness the Regent. But still, until he heard it, pretty much every scenario he was contemplating in his mind was something else. Definitely not that. He didn’t even suspect that someone would write something like that, although some of the small anti-monarchic groups around the country could get rather extreme, so sure, he could see that now.

  “I think threatening a rag like that to protect your reputation will backfire, your Highness.” He muttered, absentmindedly.

  “Threatening? Oh, no, no.” The prince shook his head. “I want to sue them. How dare they make her seem crazy or drugged on the eyes of the public?!”

  Crato could feel the anger in his voice, even if he was quite subdued, probably trying his hardest to maintain composure. For someone who allegedly had a scientific mindset, the Regent could be a very emotional man.

  “You want to sue the newspaper for slandering you?” Crato summarized. It was a bad idea, it could tear his reputation and by extension that of the kingdom apart.

  “No, I want to sue them for slandering her.” He replied.

  The Eyes of the King took a deep breath, internally putting it all together. “Tell me one thing, your Highness.”

  “Yes?”

  Crato blinked and then closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. He exhaled, his eyes still closed. “Did you accuse her of several crimes?”

  The prince nodded.

  “And now, you’re trying to protect her reputation?” Every word Crato said was slightly separated by breaths, acting as if every single one of them was being emphasized.

  The prince nodded again.

  “Your Highness, with all due respect…” Crato lounged forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his suit. “You absolute fucking moron!”

  He blinked, not even trying to get away, silent. Lord Ludis de Crato took several more deep breaths and loosened his hold on him. He didn’t understand any of it. Was it some kind of new game among the large nobility that he was far too down to Earth to understand?

  Probably not. Out of his duties the prince was borderline a hermit, if it was a game, he couldn’t have known about it.

  Finally, he let go and simply stared him down, in judgement.

  “Look… I… I had a good reason to do it. It had to be done that way.” He himself took another deep breath. “If I tell you why you will think I’m crazy.”

  Crato scoffed. He already thought that, obviously.

  “Honestly, if it had been just up to me, I wouldn’t have done it.” He admitted, looking low and visibly hurting.

  His mind raced for a moment. There were implications there, some that he didn’t like at all, not that he was going to voice them of course. The thought of his luxurious summer vacation was still inside his brain, holding up with a magnificent grip.

  “Then,” He began however, wanting to bite his tongue and silence himself, “You should have stopped it. You’re the Regent, the country is in your hands, so maybe we’re kind of royally fucked if someone who does what you did to that girl is on the throne, even if temporarily.”

  A little whimper came out of the prince’s lips. He needed this reality check, and Crato was more than willing to give it to him, telling others to their face was his fourth favorite hobby after all.

  “Did she do all of that?” He finally asked. “Or any?”

  The prince shook his head, silent and looking all beaten up. Honestly, if he had been actually, physically beaten up, he probably deserved it. But Crato wasn’t going to say that.

  He sighed. “I will find what you’ve asked me to by tomorrow morning. But once you have that information, you will not do anything else. My job isn’t going to be in peril due to you being inadequate.”

  The prince nodded.

  “And the summer vacation will last as long as I say.” He added.

  The prince was quiet. Then, he rose from his chair again, having fallen when the King’s Eyes grabbed him, gave a small bow to him and left the office without saying a single word. Crato put more liquor on his glass and began sipping gingerly.

  He had just gotten away with badmouthing the, on paper, most powerful man in the country and would get something extremely valuable in exchange for…

  Right, for work.

  But at least it was something short. Just obtaining a small piece of information. It would probably take him an hour. At most.