The scent of burning wood catches us off guard as we emerge from the temple. My eyes widen a bit as I catch sight of smoldering trees in the middle distance. There's a constant rain falling over the Wildwood, and a solemn bitterness to the air.

  What happened while we were in that temple?

  I lead the way, not because I'm best suited to it, but because Teddy and Bran are both carrying corpses of Bran's fallen men. Will is also carrying a body. They left me to lead the way since I've got a good eye, and neither of the two women wanted to be the first in the group. I can't blame either of them.

  The path back to the door leaving the Wildwood is littered with burnt corpses. I can see bits of metal among their gear, the rain is slowly washing the ash off the bodies. I'm not sure what to make of this mess. Bran speaks up, having an idea.

  "Smells a bit like oil. I'm guessing these people tried to burn down the forest."

  "You're probably right... Wonder why they'd want to do that?"

  We move on with worry creasing our brows. There's little time to contemplate what might have happened when three of our number are burdened by our fallen. I lead the way through the burnt section of the wood and to the door. The forest is eerily quiet as we make our way out. No rumbling of large beasts, no whooping calls, just the faint chirp of birds and the rainfall.

  Stepping through the door we are not greeted by the familiar sight of another party waiting to enter the dungeon, but by rubble. A huge chunk of the stone chamber's ceiling and wall has collapsed right on top of the door to Green Valley. Shock and confusion color our faces as we file out of the Wildwood and into the antechamber.

  "What in the world happened here?" Bran murmurs.

  Our answer comes not from guards hired by the guild, but by tall men in gleaming armor. They bear the crest of God on their armor. Massive broadswords rest upon their backs. They look at us with cold unfeeling glares.

  "State your name and business within the dungeon!" One of the two men shouts.

  We bristle at the hostility these two radiate. Bran is the first to speak, moving to the front in a gesture of protectiveness for us younger men.

  "We're adventurers. We found something new, but it cost the lives of our comrades. We only managed to escape by the grace of God."

  Some measure of calm seems to come over the two heavily armored men at Bran's explanation. The one who's been speaking continues, drawing himself up a bit higher as he introduces himself properly for the first time.

  "I see. I am Lance, paladin of the enclave, serving under His Excellency, Bishop Saxon."

  "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Lance."

  He smiles slightly, giving the corpses our group is carrying a somber look. He motions to the man behind him without saying anything. The other man--who must be a paladin--hurries out of the antechamber.

  "Tell me, Bran, how did these good men die?"

  "It is quite the tale..."

  Bran begins to recount our journey into the temple, mentioning how each one was killed with slight changes to the story. The cowardly man died not after running away, but instead heroically while protecting the women at the back. The second man died to a foul beast--no mention of foul play. The final man died not by his own hand, but to monsters in a brutal battle. The whole story sounds much more admirable with his fudging of the details.

  "These men died most honorably, Bran... We will be sure to give them a proper send off."

  The sound of boots clinking on stone catches our attention. My eyes widen as I see a group of paladins hurrying into the antechamber from outside. There are twice as many of them as us, and they aren't empty handed. Half of them carry sturdy looking shackles.

  "This is... quite the welcome."

  "I apologize for the inconvenience, Bran, but this is protocol."

  Bran swears under his breath. Those carrying the bodies are forced to drop them as the paladins swarm us. They're not gentle, each of us being restrained and put in cuffs that prevent us from properly using our hands. We don't have a chance to fight back. These men are far better equipped and we're exhausted from our delve in the dungeon.

  Once everyone is cuffed Sir Lance turns to regard his men with a stern glare. He gestures to the bodies and to us with separate signals, ones none of us understand.

  "Make sure their cells are one of the cleaner ones. If they are who they say they are, I'd prefer their final moments be spent someplace comfortable."

  With those words we realize our fate is sealed in the hands of the paladins. Bran looks aghast as he's pulled along by a paladin. We're being escorted out of the antechamber while the paladins pour a glossy substance over the bodies we recovered. I hear the sudden roar of flames, and looking over my shoulder I catch sight of the corpses being burnt in a small pile. Sir Lance is praying above the bodies with two of his fellows.

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  What happened while we were down there?

  ~

  The capital is as grand as always. Towering curtain walls surrounding a blend of houses and businesses, while an even grander structure encapsulates the district wherein noble houses reside. Sitting at the peak of the city is of course--the castle. My destination.

  My eyes slip from what's ahead to behind me, wherein my two remaining guards are. Most of the mercenaries I hired wanted out as soon as we had that close call with the church. I didn't blame them. Better to let them cut and run than to try and make disloyal men stay by my side.

  Thanks to my informant in Daywark we heard of the ousting before anything happened. The journey here was spent buying and wearing down horses from city to city, having to replace them to ensure our mounts could stay at top speed.

  Now, we are here, bearing news for King Geoffrey.

  The guards in this district are easy to dodge. A little coin is enough to get them to ignore us, and they hardly care to stop someone as well dressed as I. The real problem is the noble district. The gates leading into the higher class areas are protected heavily, with guards of higher status vetting those who enter.

  "State your business, Miss."

  I'm not so memorable nor famous as to walk right past without being stopped, but hopefully a little money and some explanation will be enough for this guard.

  "I've ordered a dress from the capital, and am hoping to pick it up today."

  "You're picking it up yourself? Not sending an attendant?"

  I scoff, gesturing to my two guards "Do you expect me to send one of these brutish oafs to fetch it? They would never get through the gate, let alone down the street."

  The guard stiffens at my words. He clears his throat, an awkwardness about him.

  "My apologies, Miss, go on ahead."

  We pass through the gate without further issue. Once we're out of earshot I quietly apologize to the two men at my side. They don't give any indication as to how they feel about being put down for the sake of securing our passage. Hopefully their loyalty isn't shaken.

  A few minutes later and we're nowhere near any nonexistent dress shop--instead we're at a specific spot in the wall surrounding the castle. An old break in the stone kept unrepaired for the express purpose of illicit meetings and smuggling things in and out of the walls. I instruct my two guards to wait nearby and to keep out of trouble. If I were to bring them inside it would only make me look more conspicuous.

  Down on my hands and knees, I crawl through the brush and lay eyes on the fabled break in the perimeter. It's remarkably clean for something that is meant to be an oversight. It takes a little effort to squeeze myself through without scraping up my outfit, but I manage.

  On the other side I'm quick to clean off my clothing and make myself as approachable as possible. It wouldn't do to get this far only to be stopped and questioned by a guard. Once presentable, I rise from the shrubbery.

  The courtyard is just as grand as the structure itself. Neatly trimmed hedges enclose tiled stone pathways. Flowers in bloom fill row upon row of rich soil. I walk calmly past a fountain burbling with clear water. Several coins of high value litter the bottom.

  "Miss, pardon my interruption, but are you lost?"

  I'm stopped by a rather dashing man in armor. I keep a straight face, ensuring my expression remains just so as I reply to his question.

  "Lost? Partly. You see I'm looking for my lover, but it seems he forgot our meeting..."

  "L-Lover? Pardon me, but I don't recall hearing anything about-"

  "Did Theobald not mention me?"

  Keeping my expression in the perfect little pout, I ensure my tone carries the broken heartedness of a discarded lover. The guard immediately cringes upon hearing Theodore's name. He is likely jumping to the exact conclusions I want him to.

  "W-Why of course not! Let me take you to Prince Theobald, right away, Miss."

  "Thank you, kind sir."

  With a guard escorting me none of the other men posted throughout the castle grounds give me more than a passing glance. We pass through the foyer and the chambers meant to receive guests, deeper into the quarters, and finally to the door of Prince Theobald's room. With any luck Prince Theobald will be out so I may simply duck inside and go about my business--

  "Prince Theobald, you have a visitor."

  To my displeasure, Prince Theobald is sitting at a desk on the far side of his room. He's inspecting documents that look eerily similar to the kind he was dealing with back in Daywark. He looks deep in thought right up until he notices me standing in his doorway. His jaw goes slack for a second and his brows furrow.

  "Miss Hawthorne? What are you doing-"

  "Thank you for bringing me here, kind sir! Now, Darling, please don't give me such a cold greeting! Have you really forgotten our date?"

  I cut off Prince Theobald before he can expose my little scheme to the guard. I approach a very aghast looking prince with a sultry smile playing upon my lips. If anyone were to see the way I'm sidling up to him they'd mistake me for his lover--heaven forbid--but Theobald likely sees a tiger coming his way. He stiffens up like wood as I approach.

  "M-Miss Hawthorne, I don't-"

  "Shush, you, not a word. Not until you earn my forgiveness-"

  Leaning in, I give Prince Theobald a tender kiss right on the cheek. This is in full view of the guard who is lingering in the doorway. He sees this and quickly turns on his heel. The man leaves us wordlessly, and to my relief he shuts the door on his way out.

  With no one watching I drop the act and stand a respectable distance from Prince Theobald. The poor man is in a bit of a daze as he looks at me.

  "W-What was that about, Miss Hawthorne?! This is all a bit sudden-"

  "Calm down, Theobald. I just needed a cover to get in here discreetly... Trouble is afoot, and I need to meet with King Geoffrey immediately."

  Prince Theobald looks between me and the door. He sighs before leaning back in his chair.

  "Why not go through the proper channels? I am sure Father would understand-"

  "The church has ousted the steward your father sent, Your Highness."

  His eyes widen at my statement. It does not take a genius to figure out why: Ousting a ruler put in place by the king himself is a declaration of war.