Officially, he had travelled to Notos to hold an inspection of the war preparations underway and the readiness of both the Third Legion and the local garrisons. His father readily agreed when he suggested it and he soon found himself in Notos with an honor guard of some 600 choice men. He began with his inspection of the western cities all according to design, but secretly, he set other plans into motion.

That many Notians were discontent with Zephyrian rule was news to no one, but the emergence of a rebel faction with the strength to challenge that rule was indeed something new. The previous year, the port of Girondin was seized by these rebels, the garrison slaughtered. It was a coup without precedent and it was what convinced Carpos to go forward with his plan.

Loyal servants were dispatched to each of the nine cities to make contact with the reclusive rebel leader. Each servant was shadowed by a choice man with orders to kill the servant if there was any risk of Carpos' secret being revealed. The first mission yielded nothing and on the second, three of the servants had to be killed by the men shadowing them, four vanished along with their shadows, one returned with nothing to report, but the last one had an answer.

The western cities were too strongly loyal to Zephyr, the eastern cities too hostile, and the capital Duke Cronos' stronghold, leaving Kordai as sufficiently neutral ground for both parties. The roadside inn provided an additional measure of privacy. Many travellers and caravans could make the journey between Kordai and the capital in a single day, so the inn was little used.

The condition of this meeting was that he come alone. His honor guard was camped about a quarter mile away, but a number of his men in disguise were loitering about both inside and outside the inn. Carpos was no fool. If the rebel leader meant treachery, they would be ready.

He had been sitting there for a couple hours, sipping on this swill the innkeeper had the audacity to call wine and wondering if the rebel leader was even coming at all. Then a young man—scarcely more than a youth—entered the door, followed by someone in a hooded cloak—smaller, perhaps a woman. He then felt a creeping sense of unease. A half-measure though it was, his Xotikan blood stirred. It was the cloaked figure. A Xotika, certainly, but not like his mother. Something different...

The young man took a seat at the stool across from Carpos. The cloaked Xotika woman remained standing.

Carpos had underestimated the rebel leader, but he was not expecting a Xotika to be there. That made things more difficult.

Trying to maintain his composure, Carpos said, "I am the future King of Zephyr. You seek an end to the Protectorate and I seek an end to this fool's errand in the Darklands. After your impressive bit of work last year in Girondin, I realized I might have someone I could work with."

The rebel leader's scorn was galling. Did he not realize how the Prince lowered himself to speak with one such as him? Still, he had to play the diplomat.

Did he honestly think his rabble could overcome the Third Legion? Or was he simply testing the Prince? Maybe he did not realize what Carpos brought to the table.

The rebel leader scoffed at this.

It was not a refusal.

The rebel leader then suddenly upended the table, knocking it out of the way. In a flurry of movement, everyone else in the inn brandished weapons and held up the men Carpos had posted. Rough hands took hold of Carpos' arms and dragged him to the floor.

As Carpos was screaming, the Xotika woman straddled his chest, clutching a handful of his hair and holding a knife to his throat.

The rebel leader was holding down Carpos' ankles, grinning malevolently.

One of the rebel leader's men hurried over to pull off Carpos' shoes. Meanwhile, one of the maids knelt down by his head, between the two men holding his arms, and forced a twisted linen cord between his teeth. Meanwhile, the innkeeper lumbered toward him bearing a red-hot branding iron.

Still grinning, the rebel leader said, "If you want to join the Promethean Alliance, you have to undergo the trial by fire. Don't move. Don't try to get away or you're dead."

The threat was quite sufficient, but being held down by so many people. Carpos could not get away if he tried. The innkeeper pressed the branding iron to pad of the heel of Carpos' left foot. The pain was excruciating, his screams muffled by the linen cord in his mouth. He was held fast so that he could not writhe or jerk about in the pain. Then came the right foot and it was no less painful the second time.

When his screams finally subsided, the rebels let him go. The Xotika woman was the last to get off of him. Though he was still in pain, Carpos was too drained from the ordeal to do much of anything. He could only lie there and watch his men subjected to the same treatment. Some bore it manfully, far more dignified than he did, but one was overcome with cowardice and had his throat slit for it.

Once the fifteen men were all branded, the rebel leader told Carpos, "All of your men have to pass the trial by fire. Pick a man to go fetch them, ten at time until all six hundred have been welcomed into our brotherhood. And just to make sure they don't try anything, we're going to keep you here as our hostage until the work's done."

Tired and weak, Carpos said to his men, "One of you, go. Tell Sir Patrocles everything that has been said here. Abide by..."

One of the men, ignoring the pain of his branding, set out at once. Meanwhile, Carpos seethed inside. Captain Rowland would be suffered to have his way for now, but only because he was useful to Carpos' plan. The Prince would bury the humiliation of this day, but he would not forget it and one day he would see that the impudent rebel leader paid in full for this insult to the future King of Zephyr and Notos.