Since autumn had tightened its grip on King’s City, the inner gates closed earlier in the evening. The meeting time had moved with the light: now they gathered in the afternoon, in the garden room of a mansion that did not appear on any of Theo’s official records.
Hill Fawkes arrived first, as always. Blue velvet, collarless—the jacket of an aristocrat doing his best impression of himself without quite reaching it, which was precisely the right pitch for this part of the city. White tie. Gray leggings. He carried under his arm the copy of A Kingdom’s History of Social Custom that Theo had lent him, and returned it with a short, practiced bow.
Theo took it. “Done?”
“Yes.” Hill paused, then asked: “Will you teach me wrestling? Fencing? Assassination, perhaps?”
“Why?”
“You said, during the demonic sickness, that you were going to train me as a spy. Since then, you’ve given me nothing but books.”
“That,” Theo said, dropping two cubes of ice into his wine and listening to them crack, “is not a strange book. That book contains the origin of every noble house in Graycastle, their heraldry, their estate customs, and the produce of every region in the kingdom. A spy who can’t distinguish information worth carrying from information worth forgetting is just a well-traveled gossip.” He took a slow sip. “As for fencing and assassination—I never intended to send you into an organization to gather intelligence from the inside. That kind of work requires ten years minimum to do properly. With ten years, I can buy the same result in an afternoon.”
“You can’t buy everyone.”
“And the organizations that can’t be bought make terrible targets regardless.” Theo set the cup down. “Two things. That’s all a qualified spy needs: know what information is worth having, and keep yourself invisible. The books build the first. The second—” he glanced at Hill’s jacket, “—you demonstrate every time you walk through a door.”
Hill lowered his head and appeared to be working through this.
By then the others had arrived: Clown, Rocky Mountain, and the rest. Theo opened his notebook.
“Rocky Mountain. Start.”
The big man crossed his arms. “New arrivals in the Eastern camp. Two or three hundred of them, mostly from the Northern Territory. About a third are Blood Sail men.”
Theo’s expression did not change, but something behind it shifted. Timothy had lost more than half his Royal Knights at the Redwater River; the camp east of King’s City had become the staging ground for his conscript army—refugees, criminals, whatever he could scrape from the road and feed those pills. A month since the last group of a thousand marched west, and already he’d begun refilling. “More than two hundred come in at once, you report immediately.”
“Understood.”
One use. Theo didn’t say it. He had seen what those men became once the conditioning took hold, and he had stopped being surprised by it. Timothy would continue the push into the Western Territory now that Garcia had gone north and left the southern border quiet. That information needed to reach Border Town before the next force assembled.
Clown spread his hands with a showman’s flourish. “This humble one bears a morsel of uncertain vintage—gathered through the wondrous loosening power of wine. Unverified, but the merchants who shared it have reliable noses for money and credible faces.” He cleared his throat. “Garcia Wimbledon’s Black Sail Fleet has appeared in the Kingdom of Eternal Winter. She attacked Church positions there. The siege at Wolfsheart Kingdom has stalled.”
The Queen of Clearwater in the Eternal Winter. Theo considered it. It was unexpected, but its implications were simpler than they seemed: she had sailed north. Whatever her reason—opportunity, desperation, or something colder—she had effectively abandoned her claim in Graycastle. A throne fight conducted from the far north was no throne fight at all.
“Next.”
Hill coughed. “I’ve found something about the task you gave me. His Majesty has opened a new workshop inside the inner city—clay artisans hired in quantity, and he’s been routing large amounts of saltpeter to the location. The guards are heavy. My people couldn’t learn anything inside.”
Theo straightened almost imperceptibly. “You tracked the saltpeter to the workshop yourself?”
“One of the carts. Yes.”
He had been at Roland’s side long enough to know what saltpeter meant in quantity—what it meant being moved to a place with hired craftsmen and closed doors. The alchemy association’s involvement suggested they had moved past experimentation. Workshop scale meant production. Production meant they had the formula.
“Well done,” Theo said. He meant it.
The meeting dissolved in small clusters, the members leaving the mansion at intervals of several minutes. Hill paused at the door.
“Sir. Will all of this actually bring him down?”
“Timothy’s throne is already shaking,” Theo said. “You’ve seen the letters.”
Late that evening, returning to the Covert Trumpeter tavern, Theo found someone waiting in his room.
Sean. The 4th Prince’s personal guard, the same as himself—though Sean moved through the world with the particular ease of a man who had never needed to hide what he was.
They exchanged a few words, the ordinary kind, while Theo closed the curtains.
“How did you find me?”
“His Highness gave me a letter, and told me to start with Lady Margaret. She knew where you were staying.” Sean held up a small object: a gem, deep red, the color of good wine held to the light. He waved it in a loose arc.
“A new task?”
“Not a task.” Sean went to the window and eased it open a finger’s width, then put two fingers to his lips. The whistle was short and specific.
Three birds came through the opening and settled on the table—beige-colored, compact, with the composed stillness of creatures that knew their purpose. They called out once, together, a small sound, and then stood waiting.
Sean fed each of them a pinch of wheat. “Witch-trained messengers,” he said, stroking the throat of the nearest. “Unlike carrier pigeons, they travel independently—back and forth between two fixed points without needing a person to carry them home. You tell them a keyword, and they carry the message directly to His Highness. Reply in a day, if all goes well.”
Theo looked at the three small birds on his table, their round eyes catching the lamplight. After a while he reached out and laid one finger along the back of the nearest, feeling the quick, steady beat of its heart.
A day. He thought of the Eastern camp, and the men being fed inside it, and what the spring would bring.
A day was faster than any courier.
Graycastle, within a garden of a mansion inside King’s City’s inner city.
Today was the scheduled day for the exchange of information. While sitting on a soft chair in the living room, Theo was waiting for the arrival of the members of the acrobatic group “Pigeons and Hat”. Since the beginning of autumn, the closing of the inner gates had shifted to an earlier time in the evening, so the time for their secret meeting also needed to be changed to the afternoon.
Like always, the first to arrive at the mansion was Hill Fawkes.
On his upper body, he wore a blue collarless jacket made of velvet and around his neck he was wearing a white tie, while on his lower body he was also wearing shallow gray leggings and moccasins. He was dressed remarkably similar to an aristocrat. After giving his salute, he took the book “The Kingdom’s History of social custom” which was clipped between his armpit and returned it to Theo. The latter took the book, glanced at Hill and asked with interest, “Done with reading?”
“Yes,” Hill nodded, then hesitated a moment before asking, “Won’t you teach me some wrestling; fencing… or maybe, assassination techniques?”
“Why?”
“At the time of the demonic disease’s outbreak, you said you were going to train me to be a qualified spy,” he scratched his head, “But so far, you’ve only been giving me these strange books to read.”
“Are you speaking about the ‘Kingdom’s History of social customs’?” Theo asked as he took a cup of wine, and threw two ice cubes into it, then went on to say, “This isn’t something you should call a strange book, within it is written the origin of the nobles, their traditions and heraldry, as well as the
specialties of all the regions within the kingdom. As a spy, you must first be experienced and knowledgeable, to roughly be able to distinguish between the information with value and those without. As for fencing and assassination?” He smiled, “I never intended to let you infiltrate into some organization or penetrate deeply into the enemy territory to scout for information. That kind of task is dangerous yet requires a lot of time and effort. Before we put in so much effort, it might be better if we directly step forward and bribe the informed people with gold royals.”
“But you cannot buy everyone,” Fawkes insisted.
“And those organizations from which not even a drop of water can leak out, are equally awful targets to try and insert an eye in. Without putting in ten to twenty years of effort into it, it is unlikely that one can submerge into them.” Theo shook his cup, and drank a mouthful of ice wine before he further said, “There are only two things required from a qualified spy: distinguish between information and keep yourself hidden. The reason I gave you these books was to lay the foundation for you to be able to identify information, as for the second point… as a former member of the acrobatic troupe, you should already be more experienced with it than I. For instance, the clothes you are wearing today, are excellent.”
“…” Just as Hill Fawkes was lowering his head to think about the meaning of these words, Clown and the others finally arrived at this remotely placed residence.
“Sir, everyone is present.”
“This being the case, we’ll start at once,” Theo said, put his cup down and opened a notebook, “Who will be the first?”
“I’ll go first, Sir,” Rocky Mountain, the tallest and strongest person among them said, “There’s a new batch of people who’ve moved into the camp East of King’s City.”
This unexpected message made the personal guard’s brow jump slightly, he hadn’t expected that the first news he received would already be something bad. Since Timothy had lost more than half of his Royal Knights, the garrison
built on the outskirts of King’s City had now become the base for the militia. All the rats, refugees, and criminal Timothy had drafted were placed in the strategically placed camp east of King’s City before they would head into battle. It’s just a bit longer than a month that a team of more than a thousand militia had last left for the Western Territory, but they already found new people to replenish?
“How many have come?”
“There are only two or three hundred people at the moment, and it seems that most of them came from the Northern Territory… apart from them, there are also some Blood Sail rats, but the ratio of those are one to two. There aren’t many rats left who are willing to leave.”
“Keep a close watch on their movements, and whenever more than two hundred new people come to the camp, you have to report to me at once,” Theo ordered.
“Yes, Sir.”
These people only have one use, which is, to be used as a consumable after being fed those pills. Now after the Queen of Clearwater has gone northward, there is no longer any opposition at the Southern Border. Thus, Timothy will undoubtedly continue his attack on His Royal Highness’s territories. I have to send this information back to Border Town as soon as possible.
“The next one to go is this humble Clown, this one bares some confidential information, or to be more precise, information shared due to the wondrous influence of alcohol,” Clown said in an exaggerated manner. “I’m unable to verify whether it is genuine or false, but according to a group of merchants, with a lot of face and a nose for money, this story can be regarded as the truth. They’ve said that Garcia Wimbledon’s Black Sail Fleet has appeared in the Kingdom of Eternal Winter, where they launched an attack against the Church, and with this also bringing the siege on the Wolfsheart Kingdom’s city walls to a stop. The merchants were all preparing to take advantage of the time before the beginning of winter, and wanted to try and sell some needed goods.”
The Queen of Clearwater actually went to the Kingdom of Eternal Winter? This information came somewhat unexpected for Theo. However, it wasn’t important whether this information was true or false, since she has chosen to leave Graycastle and sail northward, it was equivalent to having given up her right to fight for the throne, “That’s it?”
“Alright, I know that the source of the matter is a bit far from Graycastle,” he stuck out his tongue. “Next time I will make some inquiries about more immediately useful information.”
“Keke,” Hill coughed twice, “Sir, I found some new clues regarding the task you have entrusted with. Timothy has opened a new workshop in the inner city, recruited a lot of clay artisans, and is also shipping the recently acquired large amount of saltpeter to that place. However, the workshop is heavily guarded, which made it impossible for my people to learn anything more about what the saltpeter is being used for.”
“Oh?” Theo’s spirit was lifted, “They brought the saltpeter towards the workshop?”
“That’s right,” Hill confirmed, “I have personally tracked one of those carts to the workshop.”
This was a very valuable information. Since Theo had been at His Highness Roland’s side for such a long time, he naturally knew that the all-conquering gunpowder was a type of alchemic good, the main ingredient of which was saltpeter. Thus, when he noticed that the King began to acquire the saltpeter from the surrounding tanning fields in large amounts, he’d arranged Hill Fawkes to go and inquire about its whereabouts and use.
Now, after the other side had transferred it to a workshop of the Alchemy Association, their intentions have become very apparent – taking the next step from alchemic experiments to workshop manufacturing, indicated that they have now grasped the prescription of gunpowder. The priority of this intelligence was even higher than the need to gather new people in the Eastern camp.
“Well done.” Theo praised.
…
After the end of the secret meeting, everyone left the mansion in batches.
The moment before Hill left, he suddenly turned around and asked, “Sir, by doing all of this, will we really be able to topple Timothy from his throne?”
“Of course,” the personal guard answered, “Haven’t you seen the letter sent by His Highness? Timothy’s throne is already shaking.”
Later in the evening, when he returned to the tavern “Covert Trumpeter”, Theo was greeted by an unexpected acquaintance: Sean.
Just like himself, he was also one of the 4th Prince’s personal guards.
After arriving at his room on the second floor, they exchanged some greeting for a moment, before Theo closed the curtains and whispered, “How did you know where I was staying?”
“His Highness gave me a letter, and told me to look for Miss Margaret, who already knows about your whereabouts.” Sean took out a sparkling, pure red gem and waved it around.
“Does he have a new task?”
“It’s not a task, it’s a gift,” Sean said, and smiled as he walked to the window. He opened it to a slit and blew a whistle. Soon Theo saw three beige colored birds come flying into the room and drop on the table then immediately call out, “Googoo”. After feeding each of the birds with some wheat, they finally settled down.
It was Theo’s first time to see such intelligent birds, “This is…”
“These are a witch’s trained messengers.” Sean explained, while he stroked one of those beige colored bird’s neck, “The difference between them and a carrier pigeon is, that they can independently travel back and forth between two places, without needing a person to take them away. So, they can fly home on their own afterward. You only have to say a specific keyword to the birds; and they will deliver the message right into His Royal Highness’
hands. If everything goes well, you’d only have to wait a day before you’d receive a reply.”