Eustratos' family made their fortune centuries ago when they claimed the right to toll all trade goods transported to and from the eastern ports. This practice enjoyed royal sanction because the Crown received a healthy share of the takings and once the royal family died out, the Protectorate was fooled into taking a much smaller cut. As a result, Eustratos was one of the wealthiest men in Notos and he had every intention of remaining so. That meant playing both sides to remain standing alongside the victor, whoever that might be. It was a dangerous game but so long as Eustratos was so eager to curry Carpos' favor, he could be assured of at least one ally.

It was customary to hold feasts for the evening meal, but eating so much so close to bedtime disagreed with the good senator's digestion, which was why he held his feasts at noontide instead. They were well into the day's feast when a servant came rushing in.

The cause for the servant's haste soon became clear as Rowland burst into the hall right behind him. Common trash like him had no appreciation for formalities. It was a credit to the servant that he was swift enough to at least try to announce the rebel leader's arrival.

Rowland had his Black Xotika and the old wizard who advised him in tow. Carpos always got an unpleasant feeling from the Black Xotika whenever he saw her. She hated him bitterly, but the sentiment was entirely mutual.

Through a mouthful of roasted pheasant, Eustratos said, "Capftain Rowland, thish ish mosht irreggular!"

Eustratos flushed in offense, muttering under his breath as he hastily chewed the food in his mouth and washed it down with a quaff of wine.

Dabbing his jowls with a napkin, he continued, "It is dangerous for you to come visit my estate in the open like this. If anyone should—"

Eustratos had no reply and Rowland's business lay elsewhere.

Patrocles rose from his couch with a start.

Patrocles reach for his spatha, prompting Rowland to respond in kind, gripping the hilt of that ridiculously overlarge sword on his back. Carpos waved for Patrocles to stand down. He did what he could to mask his annoyance.

Carpos remembered Iakobin from his time making the circuit up to Hebertos. It was a miserable, filthy excuse for a city and would probably be best served by burning it to the ground. Perhaps the garrison there would be more willing to listen to reason. It would be good to replenish his losses and bolster the ranks.

As much as Carpos wanted to put the impudent churl in his place, now was not the time. Instead he laughed, turning to Patrocles and saying, "The young captain here seems to think our men lack exercise. Get them ready to march."

Carpos stood up from his couch and gave a nod to Eustratos.

Eustratos bowed his head low and said, "It has been my honor, Your Highness."

Eustratos gave Rowland an annoyed look and said, "Good day to you, Captain."

Rowland grinned, making it abundantly clear to all that he was not one to be dismissed. If he did not have better things to do, he may have made a point to humiliate the senator in front of his guests. The ever pressing demands of time could on occasion be a mercy.

Carpos returned to his quarters to dress for the road and have his servants gather the baggage. In about an hour's time, his men were assembled and ready to go on the march. Rowland was waiting for him on the outskirts of town with ten other men, some mounted and some on foot.

When Carpos brought the formation to a halt, Rowland said, "These men will contact those loyal to our cause in the city. You should have no trouble taking it."

Rowland laughed.

Carpos narrowed his eyes at the rebel leader and said, "I do not need you to tell me that. Patrocles, we move."

Carpos did not know what sort of welcome he could expect. Nearly two months had passed since he seized Hebertos. Not once did the cohort in Girondin move against him, nor did Duke Cronos send troops from the capital to drive him from the city. Did the Duke even reveal to the men of the Legion what their prince had done?

They would find out soon enough. Carpos' pride prevented him from stealing into the city like some sneakthief. The men of Carpos' Band would enter Iakobin boldly, triumphally.

The buccinae sounded and did not cease until they approached a checkpoint set up in the road, manned by some ten men of the garrison and about twoscore militiamen. Upon seeing the Prince, the men of the garrison all saluted him.

A few of the militiamen responded in kind, a rarity among Notians. Either they were genuinely loyal to Zephyr far above most of their countrymen or they were rebels making a display to worm their way into the garrison's confidence. Regardless, there were no immediately signs of caution among them, so it seemed entirely possible that they did not know of Carpos' treason. All the better.

He turned to the men and shouted, "The swiftest among you, make haste to the prefect! Relay to him His Highness' will!"

Eyeing the men at the checkpoint, Carpos said to Patrocles in a low voice, "Keep your weapons at the ready. These men may be ignorant, but the prefect may be informed of the situation."

After some time, the prefect approached with the garrison and the militia marching behind him. As they went past the checkpoint, the formation shifted from four files to ten. They were very nearly even in number, but how many hidden allies were lurking in their ranks?

When the formation was in position, the garrison prefect—Sir Onesimos if Carpos remembered from an earlier introduction—saluted and shouted, "Hail, Zephyr! The garrison of Iakobin and the citizen volunteers present themselves for Your Highness' inspection!"

Carpos recounted the ranks and said, "Your numbers appear to be lacking."

And now the dance began. The Prince would see where the prefect stood and then act accordingly.

In times of peace, the prefect would seem perfectly reasonable, but in a time of war like this, he appeared weak. Carpos could use that weakness to his advantage, but first he needed to gauge the depth of that weakness.

This prefect sounded more and more like a man who would listen to reason. What a coup it would be for Carpos to make a bloodless conquest, boosting his ranks instead of thinning his numbers with meaningless fighting. There was only one way to test his resolve.

The prefect seemed hesitant at first, but it did not take him long to reply, "I would of course fight to the fullest of my ability before contemplating surrender, Your Highness, and from what I have heard about what has happened in Girondin and Hebertos, mercy is not something the rebels seem interested into affording to the garrisons, so in light of that fact, it would be better to fight to our dying breath than to die a coward's death."

Discomfited, the prefect replied, "Your Highness jests rather cruelly. If it pleases Your Highness for me to continue to play this game, I would of course trust Your Highness' word, not that I could imagine the circumstances where I would be opposed to Your Highness. I am ever loyal to Zephyr, of course."

Though the prefect disbelieved his own ears, he was clearly shaken by the weight of the Prince's words.

Setting aside all pretense, Carpos extended his hand and said, "I am making you the offer now. Surrender and you shall be spared or better, join me and you will share in my victory."

Carpos cut him off lest he still thought this was nothing more than a rhetorical exercise.

Before the prefect could reply, a voice cried out, "Don't listen to him!"

The owner of the voice was a young man, a knight by the look of him, but his kit was not like that of a typical Equestrian of the Third Legion.

Undeterred, this Ionathas replied coolly, "He stopped being a Prince of Zephyr when he declared for the rebels." He then raised voice to address Carpos' entourage. "Have you men no honor!? You would betray Zephyr!?"

Though he was growing increasingly annoyed at the knight for his interference, Carpos kept his temper in check.

Carpos raised his hand to stop Patrocles. His zeal was appreciated, but the Prince did not want them to come to blows, not yet. There was still a chance to achieve his bloodless conquest.

Yet bark he did, this time to the militia.

Carpos decided to meet Ionathas' challenge. It could very well earn him more men to his side.

Carpos had to suppress a grin. A man like the prefect did not have the stomach to hazard the garrison with anything less than the full strength of the militia behind him and even then he may not have dared to challenge Carpos' men, much unlike Sir Ionathas, who was filled to the brim with hot blood but lacked even a grain of good sense. Victory was his.

What could a half-mad knight and some fourscore horsemen hope to accomplish? Was he so blind to folly?

Carpos repeated his offer to the prefect, saying, "Surrender now, Sir Onesimos, and you and your men will not be made to account for this dog."

Before Sir Onesimos could reply, an arrow flew straight at the Prince. He jerked his head away to dodge it, losing his balance and falling out of his saddle. He landed hard and everything went black.

Patrocles was right by his side and gripped his hand, crying, "Your Highness! Are you well?"

Still dazed, Carpos asked, "What happened?"

For a moment, Carpos' anger was kindled against Patrocles for withdrawing so easily, but he quickly thought better of it. He had no intention of dying for the sake of a miserable city like Iakobin. No victory was worth his life. Patrocles judged well. Carpos' anger was then redirected to the one who deserved it most.

Patrocles did not let him dwell on his anger, though, and asked, "What shall we do now, Your Highness?"

Carpos' head hurt and his body ached from where he hit the ground. He was in no temper to concern himself with such matters.

Carpos closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. He would take back what was owed him and see the person responsible for the day's fiasco suffer.