“No, I really don’t have to give you an explanation,” Anton said. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to. “I outrank you; you are on my land, and what goes on outside of my gates is none of your concern. Your concern is getting those weapons back to the capital. The shipment is ready, so if you want to carry out the King’s orders, you’ll have your men start lifting crates.”

  Commander Rami glowered, but he didn’t have any real comeback. Against anyone but a noble, he would have bullied them with his rank. Against most nobles, he would have relied on the threat of violence that a Tier Three soldier carried with him like a cloak.

  Against Anton, that fear ran the other way. Not all Tier Three Classes were created equal.

  “The King will hear of this,” he promised. “And my men need to stay alert and on guard. They can’t be doing manual labour.”

  Anton let him have that one. The question of why Rami’s men needed to be guarding a pier in a supposedly friendly town only had bad answers. Anton wouldn’t have suggested they help carry crates if he hadn’t been snatching at every chance to get this transaction over with as soon as possible. He’d almost authorised using the electric carts, but had decided that they could live with the extra hour they would have saved.

  “Quite so!” Odran enthused. “Your fine men must remain alert for any attempts at banditry or piracy!”

  The noble negotiator was doing his best to butter the commander up. It didn’t appear to be working, but he persisted.

  “On that note,” Odran continued. “As the hour of your departure approaches, it seems appropriate to inform you that I will not be joining you on your voyage.”

  “What?” Rami asked, and Anton had to agree. He was having trouble following the voluble negotiator, and he had been forewarned about what the noble was going to say.

  “I will be remaining here,” Odran explained. “As the war continues, further shipments of weapons and ammunition will need to be purchased, and I will remain here to negotiate them as required.”

  “But… you won’t have any money,” Rami said. He didn’t mean that Odran would be entirely bereft of funds, of course. Rather, the large amount of gold they had brought for the large amount of guns would all have been spent.

  “More funds can be sent as the King requires,” Odran lied easily. This wasn’t about future purchases, which Anton was fairly sure would not be forthcoming. Once the truth about the sabotaged rifles was revealed, Odran would not want to be anywhere within reach of the King.

  “Well… if the Baron is willing to host you…” Rami said, as if he had a say in the matter. He did, to a certain extent, but he couldn’t threaten Odran in Anton’s presence, so his leverage was limited.

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Anton said easily. It wasn’t like he was going to be hosting the man for long. Odran made it sound like he would remain in Kirido for the rest of the war, but in reality, he would be riding for Tarazin as soon as the coast was clear.

  Or speaking of the coast, perhaps he should take a boat? Anton could spare the Whiskerwind, and Cheia could bring back news more quickly than the sparse rumours they were getting from the front. It was something to think about once all the potential spies were gone.

  This particular spy, however, was digging in his heels. Rami knew that something was wrong, he just didn’t know what. So he pushed and prodded against the limits Anton had set. Anton had already been barring the commander and his men from the North-West Gate to prevent them from identifying any messengers from Tarazin. Now he was forced to keep them away from the gate to the Old Coast Road as well, thanks to the hole in the road that Oldaw had left.

  It all looked highly suspicious, Anton was sure. However, the guns were being delivered, with no delays or caveats. The possibility of sabotage hadn’t yet crossed Rami’s mind, and Anton wasn’t sure what he could do if it did. The closest thing the King’s expedition had to a merchant who could identify goods was Odran.

  Just a little longer…

  Anton finally managed to excuse himself as the first of the crates arrived. He got as far as fifty paces before a messenger—barred from going anywhere near Rami— found him.

  “News from the West,” the man said quietly, handing Anton a leather-wrapped package of documents. North would have been more accurate, but the best road to Tarazin did run that way.

  Anton hefted the package. There wasn’t much in it.

  “Are they expecting a reply?” he asked. Sometimes a rider would come and wait for a response before leaving.

  The man shook his head. “Important, but not urgent, we were told.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Anton nodded and headed back up to the castle. He would want his wives with him when he opened it.

  One of the letters turned out to be for Suliel—from her mother. She read it quietly, but her face spoke volumes as the emotions flitted across it.

  “I should tell her that Aris is with child,” she mused when she was done. “But I’m not sure I can take the hectoring about falling behind in your regard.”

  “Neither of you has to worry about that,” he assured her, glancing over at Aris. She had mostly forgiven him for cancelling the trip to Bures, since it had turned out to be unnecessary. A few lectures from the older women around the castle about caring for a pregnancy had also slightly tempered her desire for adventure. Only slightly, but Anton was glad to take any sort of win.

  Anton’s missive had been shorter, at least the part of it he read. There had been an update on tariffs within the duchy on various goods that Anton would have Suliel look over before passing to Soraya. Going to a war footing had raised expenses.

  “So, what does it say?” Aris asked.

  “It’s old news,” Anton cautioned. “They must have fought the battle by now, but the King's forces came in from the north, through Vardessa. They must have picked up additional forces from there.”

  “That was one of the scenarios envisaged by the generals, wasn’t it?” Suliel asked.

  “It was,” Anton confirmed. “One of the less optimistic ones, but still allowed for. We should hear more news once the battle is fought…”

  He trailed off, leaving Suliel to finish the thought.

  “…unless the battle is lost and there is no one to send word,” she said. “Mother often told me how it is when you’re far away from where the battles are fought.”

  “So the sooner news arrives, the better, I guess,” Anton said. He shook his head to clear away his nervous energy. “I’m more used to being on the front lines. We should—”

  A knock on the door was quickly followed by the entrance of a messenger.

  “Word from the wall, my lord,” the man announced.

  “That was quick,” Anton said. “Is the next messenger here already?”

  “No, my lord. Refugees are arriving from the outer villages.”

  This time, the walls were manned by more than the patrols that watched over it in peacetime. The few riders that the barony could boast of were out in force, seeking out the refugees and guiding them in.

  The Glimmered Lancers weren’t raiding; they were occupying. Evicting commoners from their homes and forcing them to flee to Kirido in search of food and shelter. There were some reports of the soldiers using the abandoned villages for shelter, but what they were mainly interested in was the food.

  They were proceeding to Kirido slowly and methodically, collecting every crumb of food and driving the villagers before them in the hopes of exhausting Kirido’s food supply.

  “Is it going to work?” he asked Soraya. The slave-merchant’s daughter, who had found her place in the town as Anton’s business manager—a term Kelsey had come up with—flicked her ears nervously.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “We have less food than I’d like, but more than they think we have. Lady Kelsey’s—”

  “Ooh, la, la,” Kelsey interjected. “I feel so fancy.”

  “Kelsey’s contribution means we have a source of grains they can’t account for, and we’ve been trading heavily the past few months.”

  Soraya glared at Kelsey. “We’d be in fine shape if this hadn’t happened, but even with the extra mouths, we should get by. Depending on how long the siege lasts.”

  “It’s a land force,” Suliel pointed out. “They can’t stop us from getting more supplies by boat.”

  “I wouldn’t count on them not having support from the sea,” Anton cautioned, “But I don’t think it will be a factor.”

  “I hope they try,” Kelsey said gleefully. “We can hoist the Jolly Rodger and teach them the meaning of fear!”

  Anton only grunted in response. He’d spotted movement in the treeline to the east. Past the fields wasn’t a true forest, but there were enough trees and ground cover to block sight.

  It was only a moment later that his outriders emerged, riding for the town. Riding fast, but not desperately. Anton watched them pick their way around the crater in the road before going down to meet them.

  “Tarek,” Anton called as the captain dismounted and handed his horse over to the stablehands. Tarek Sefrin had only been captain since the raid, and even then, it was an honorary position. They didn’t have enough horse to justify the role, but someone had to be in command.

  “They’re coming, my Lord,” the man said, saluting. “They were following close, but they didn’t pursue us. Most of them were on foot.”

  “Not just the Glimmering Lancers, then,” Anton said.

  “No, sir. I didn’t recognise the banners, but they were mercenaries from the looks of them.”

  Anton grimaced. Mercenary infantry was much better suited for a siege than a cavalry unit, no matter how storied. He checked to see if Tarek had anything more to report, then sent him off to rest.

  It was another hour before the first of the enemy appeared. Suliel and Soraya had gone back to the town, preparing logistics for the siege ahead of them. Aris stayed on the wall with Anton and Kelsey. Anton wanted to send her back to the castle, but he had to admit that, for the moment, it was safe here.

  Aris frowned as the mercenaries started to set up camp.

  “Anton,” she said. “They’re…”

  “I know,” Anton replied. “They’re not used to facing guns. Don’t punish them for it yet; wait until they’re set up.”

  He watched the mercenaries for a few moments more and then called over Rynmos, captain of the town guard.

  “Make sure everyone holds fire unless we’re actually attacked,” he said. “I’m going to send out an envoy.”

  “Do you have something you want to say?” Rynmos asked.

  “No, I have someone I want to get rid of,” Anton replied.

  * * *

  “It’s pretty simple,” Anton said, “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to get you out of my hands, and there needs to be some communication before we get to fighting. Since you’re paroled, you can be my envoy.”

  “Not that I’m refusing, but is that a good idea?” Oldaw said stiffly. “You can hardly expect me to look out for your interests—or even return with a reply.”

  “True enough,” Anton admitted, “But we don’t really have anything to say to each other. I’m too newly minted a noble to bother with all the back and forth.”

  Oldaw grunted. “I’m a soldier myself, so I know how it is,” he said. “But they’ll have demands that they have to present.”

  “They’ll be the same as yours, though, won’t they?” Anton pointed out. “I’ve already heard them, and the answer is no. Tell them that.”

  “Simple enough. Anything else?”

  “Just one thing,” Anton said grimly. “And this goes for you, too. Tell them to get off my lands… or be destroyed.”