Simona feared for Rowland. The closer he became to achieving his ambition, the more perilous his footing. After 300 years of his bloodline living in relative obscurity, he stood on the verge of surpassing even the ancestor Simona first pledged herself to. He was heedless as ever, or at least he hid his caution behind a bold facade.

The newest volunteers for the Free Army were gathered in the square with the town militia in four blocks of fifty. One of the four would be joining them on circuit down the coast, around south and back to the capital via Kordai, picking up more volunteers in each city and starting their training along the way. Apparently this was to become a new ritual. Spring, summer and fall, three times a year Rowland intended to make the circuit and grow his army—no, Notos' army. It was easy to make that mistake and perhaps that was a large part of the problem they faced.

Though Rowland claimed he did not intend to become king, there were many who hoped he would and many desperate to see that he would not. The question of what kind of nation Notos would became would be answered easier in a Notos without Rowland. That was what his enemies and false allies thought and that was why Simona always had to be on her guard. The hidden blade was always lurking in the shadows and sometimes even in the light of day.

Rowland was inspecting the ranks when three men sprang out from among the volunteers and militiamen and rushed at him. Normally, Simona could sense an attack well in advance, but somehow they took her by surprise. Even so, her senses and reflexes were far superior to any human's.

The two attackers did not press forward against her but instead ran. They immediately cut back into the ranks of the volunteers. They knew Simona could not throw her daggers lest she hit an innocent. She would have pursued them, but Rowland ran after the third attacker in the opposite direction. Rowland was more important than the attackers, so she followed him.

The attacker was a fast runner, but he could not hope to outrun her. He darted into an alleyway, but he was not going to lose her by weaving through the buildings. With her knife at the ready, she closed the distance, leaping forward to deliver the deathstroke.

The attacker turned to dodge Simona's thrust. She missed her mark but quickly swung back to slash at him. He caught her arm, though, so she drew another dagger with her free hand and stabbed at his gut, only for him to grab her wrist before she could drive the point in.

Pinning her arms to her chest, the attacker pushed her into the nearest wall. She tried kicking him, but he took the hit without flinching. She then tried kneeing him in the groin with her other leg, but he had the foresight to wear armor under his tunic to bear the brunt of the blow, hurting Simona more than him.

Simona's mind raced. In contest of strength, she would lose, but could she cast a spell in time to take the advantage.

Before she could do anything, though, the attacker grinned and said, "Easy there, Mistress Simona. You need me alive."

This took her off-guard, just enough to distract her from trying to ensorcel him.

Her question was answered by Rowland, who was just then catching up to them.

The attacker—Belgius, apparently—released her and she, uncertainly, sheathed her knives as ordered.

Rather than showing any anger at such blatant treachery, Rowland grinned at the news.

Belgius dug into a nearby pile of trash to pull out a bundle wrapped in sackcloth.

He opened the bundle to reveal a near identical replica of Rowland's cuirass along with a couple hand ballistae. Simona could tell the inferior craftsmanship just by looking at it, but it would likely fool an untrained human eye.

Rowland crouched down and tapped on the false armor with his knuckles.

He then donned the false armor, bundled up his prized cuirass and hit it amongst the refuse.

He looked to Belgius and asked him, "All set?"

With that, Belgius started to run out of the alley.

Simona was not prepared for this, but she would play her part. It annoyed her that Rowland would keep this from her, but she was not the only one with powers of the mind. If Rowland could keep secrets from her, he could keep secrets from them and it might prove to save his life.

Belgius led them through the alleyways back out into the square. Rowland wanted an audience, after all. Once Rowland was in plain view, Belgius turned back wielding a hand ballista in each hand and shot two bolts square into Rowland's chest.

Her cry was genuine because she feared he had misjudged his plan and actually taken a mortal wound. First she had to play out her part as if this was a genuine attempt on his life. She threw a dagger at Belgius, deliberately aiming for the meat of his arm. It would have been too suspicious if she missed entirely and though she could have crafted an illusion to simply have the appearance of a dagger piercing him, a real wound would better serve the act.

Before anyone else could get to Rowland, she rushed to his side, took hold of him and transported them to safety. They reappeared well outside the city, much the same as she had escaped the Sky King at Kalonis.

Fearful for Rowland's well-being, she shook his shoulders vigorously, saying, "Rowland! Rowland! Speak to me!"

Beneath the thin, inferior plate of the cuirass was a layer of wood to slow the quarrels. The points of the quarrels managed to just barely pierce through, leaving two shallow holes in Rowland's chest no more than a quarter-inch deep.

Looking at the holes and his reddening tunic, Rowland shook his head.

He unslung his sword and handed it to her.

As she accepted the heavy blade, she worried about what might come.

It never occurred to Simona that she would have a place in Notos' future. Rowland had become her everything and she stopped thinking of anything beyond him. It was entirely possible that she might yet live another five hundred years. That was a long time for her to watch over the new Notos Rowland was building. Never since Rowland's birth had she felt her sense of duty so strongly.

She then swore to him, "As I have watched over you, I will watch over Notos until I take my dying breath."

Rowland placed his hand on her cheek, a rare gesture of gentleness from him, and told her, "I appreciate that, but let's start with the work of the next few days before we start thinking of the centuries to come."

In spite of herself, Simona could feel a slight flush in her cheeks. There was a desire in her heart that could never be, but in its place, she could devote herself to Rowland's descendants and the nation he was building. That would be a worthy use of the life that was picked up all those years ago.