XLIV
As they descended the terrain on their horses, the capital of Korcaster came into view. The city rose triangularly in height with the Theos palace taking the centre as a tallest point, the buildings tapering off and shortening as they spread away.
Behind, a long mountain bodied on the plane, like a beast, lumpy and solid with sharp edges, forcing through clouds like claws.
The peaks spiked upward like an offensively crude and natural crown, even the tallest of buildings hugged the ground, bowing in fear.
Despite its size, it was greying, fading into the sky, lying in wait.
From James' memory, he could recall the mountain's solid stone colour, without vegetation, whilst the land beneath was a vibrant green, fertile and rich. He longed to see those views again.
"I didn't have the proper tools for the eyedrops," he told Alex. "So, my eyes may be brown enough to avoid being fucking murdered, but they're still chestnutty."
In truth, they hurt, a stinging pain. He couldn't have finely blended the ingredients together in the night, without the proper tools, so he'd scratched his eyes as he'd rubbed the nasty gritty paste into them.
Alex glanced at him. "I'll check them myself in a moment."
"You don't need an excuse to look into my eyes," James joked, just because he wanted to push his misery away.
Alex shook his head, clearly deeming the remark unworthy of response.
James regarded the other men, evaluating their confidence.
Riley and Thomas seemed fine enough, but Fletcher's horse trudged along just as tiredly as Fletcher looked, dark bags sagging under his eyes.
Unlike his age of twenty, he looked a decade older.
He gazed upon Korcaster with terror paling his dreaded face.
"You don't have to do this if you don't think you can manage," James said to the scholar, "it'll actually be more dangerous for you to do this unconfidently and botch it up, than for us to take some time to rethink our strategy."
Fletcher was needed because, as a renowned scholar, he had an excuse for wishing to see the financial reports of politicians.
Fletcher himself had supposedly written much about the relationship of money and politics, he would earn no suspicion for his interest. But, if Fletcher seemed too nervous, that safe perception of him could change.
"That isn't your call to make, James," Alex cut in.
James ignored him. "If I was given a few days, I might be able to figure out how to sneak in there and steal the documents by myself."
"James," Alex hissed.
Fletcher smiled warily. "I appreciate it, but the current plan is so much safer. You'd have no excuse if caught. I can do this."
James wasn't entirely convinced but, with another glance around, it seemed none of the other men appreciated his suggestion either. If this kingdom was good at one thing, it was beating their knights into unconditional obedience. "If you say so."
"We shouldn't steal anything," Thomas warned, "they may notice, check the visitor's log, and then catch wind of what we're up to."
"I agree," Riley concurred, "everyone is paranoid in the Theos palace."
"King William reckons they may already know," James mused, changing language. There was no need to further frighten Fletcher, nor to further implicate the reserved Thomas.
"Of his dissent and scheming?" Alex confirmed, "There's no way to know that.
But, they've been asking him for all sorts.
King Fabian even asked if he can relocate his men away from the Esparian border down to Ashad.
King William keeps putting off the requests and evading them, but they'll only accept it for so long. "
James hummed in thought. "What do you think, Riley? What does the Theos house think about all this?"
Riley shrugged. "I don't know. King Godfrey is rarely conscious, but I do know he'd been close with King Fabian before becoming bed-bound.
He was most definitely involved before. But, the main player right now is Prince Maurice, and he's unpredictable but paranoid. It's possible he has suspicions."
James sighed. That told him nothing he didn't already know. "Would be nice if you could give us a definite answer, for once."
"Shut up."
"I just don't feel right about all this," he confessed.
Alex looked at him from the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything.
"Why?" Riley asked.
"Is it because you're uncomfortable walking in so casually, rather than sneaking?" Alex asked.
Alex had clearly been trying to figure him out. Sometimes he got close with his deductions, sometimes he was a mile off. James didn't mind the scrutiny, in fact, he weirdly enjoyed the attention. He liked the way Alex's dark eyes watched him curiously.
Deep down, he wanted to monopolise Alex, render him incapable of thinking about anybody else. Only him. Alex probably wouldn't appreciate James' twisted desire for ownership if he knew, so he'd never find out. James would make sure of that.
It wasn't James' fault he was like that though.
He was a prince. He'd grown up possessing people like objects, seeing them as toy soldiers for him to move around.
He could've sent them to their deaths if he'd felt like it.
A drop of sweat on Alex's neck was all it took to provoke that greed within him, compel him into wanting to wrap his hands around it, just to prove the man belonged to him.
Except, Alex wasn't his to claim.
"You do realise that 'sneaking' into places is mostly about boldly waltzing into somewhere like you belong, right?" James informed him. "Rarely does running around and suspiciously hiding around corners actually get you anywhere. Gods forbid someone sees you behaving like that. So, no."
"Well, how am I supposed to know how an assassin works?"
"I didn't think our jobs were that different, honestly," James commented wryly.
"Oh, don't say that," Thomas protested, offended. Alex recoiled and groaned at the suggestion also.
James didn't let his smile show on his face.
"You're going to hate what we have in store for you," Thomas went on.
James turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn't like the smug tone of voice he'd heard.
Alex waved Thomas off. "Not yet," he warned.
"Not yet, what?" James demanded.
Thomas' low evil chuckle made James want to stomp his head in. Fletcher seemed to be finding humour in the conversation though, so James wouldn't spoil it with the threat of violence.
"You'll know once we reach our check-in point," Alex assured him.
James wasn't fooled though, Alex's face was too expressionless, that man was laughing on the inside. James would've strangled him if they'd been alone.
As they got closer to Korcaster, they began to pass more and more people, farmers tending to their livestock; sheep, cows, chickens.
Their path turned into a better trodden road at a junction, the dirt beneath the horses' hooves becoming stone, their clopping becoming louder, sharper.
At some point, a line of tired looking young men passed them, jogging sluggishly like their feet were caught in water. Thomas laughed at them as they passed.
"Reminds me of when I did the mandatory training," he remarked, gleefully watching them from his relaxing position on top of a saddle.
"This feels sadistic," Fletcher commented.
"You want to join them down there instead?" Thomas joked. "Don't feel too sorry for them, we all had to do this. The buggers can bloody well get on with it."
James hadn't. The nice thing about being a dead man without a fixed address was that no one ever came looking for him.
"Every day I'm thankful that I was blessed with a good mind." Fletcher said, "I think I'd die doing this."
"Some do," James mumbled.
"It reminds me of when I met my wife, actually," Thomas reminisced. "I met her when I did my training down south. She lived in a village near the Ostyae Strait."
"Which is the part that reminds you, the muscular half-naked manly bodies?" Riley sniped.
"You've never even met my wife," Thomas snapped.
"They're all manly down there; the women more than the men."
Fletcher seemed to take a genuine interest. "How did you meet her?"
Thomas smiled. "I bumped into her, quite literally, and then she slapped me right across the face."
"Case in point." Riley nodded to himself, as if his claim had been proven beyond reasonable doubt.
"She didn't know it was accidental," he defended her, "she thought I was harassing her.
Apparently it's a common problem, lots of the women have to put up with sexual assault from the trainees they pull in.
They can be brutes. But, I fell for her instantly, explained myself, and the rest is history. "
"That's so cute," Fletcher awed.
James rolled his eyes. He didn't believe in falling in love at first sight, no more than he believed in the concept of love in general.
"It's not just the women, you know?" Riley said, "perish the thought of having a pretty baby face as a trainee. It can be the men, too. I saw some awful scenes."
James was taken aback by that comment. "That was a surprisingly socially conscious remark coming from you, Riley. You've accidentally broken character."
Riley didn't miss a beat. "Was just thinking how unnatural people like you are, not liking women and all."
"Character restored," James rejoiced. "Though, I think you're misunderstanding something. I do like women."
"Oh yeah? What's the sexiest part?"
"Their necks," James answered instantly.
Riley took a moment to process that answer, blinking slowly. "I wish you just lied and gave me a normal answer, like boobs. Like— wow, man."
James shrugged unapologetically. He was aware of the irony, considering his career.
Fletcher appeared deep in thought, his eyes squinted. "Well, I think I could get it, the neck thing... maybe."
Thomas tutted at the younger man. "Don't entertain them. This conversation is weird."
One thing James noticed as they began to penetrate the city's suburbs was that there were significantly more guards than he remembered. He wasn't sure if it was the fault of bad memory or if his observation was correct. Either way, he felt himself becoming increasingly nervous.
They were an assault on the eyes, their armour and clothes were black, any metal was swiped over with some kind of dark oily polish.
The plumes on the helmets, their capes and any ornate details were all green, proudly displaying their Theos alliance.
Some of them took interest in their group as they passed, but none acted upon it, they simply stared after them.
James' paranoia intensified, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled from the scrutiny.
As the crowds of people increased, they dismounted their horses to guide them through safely on foot.
Dogs weaved between people's legs, children squealing in delight as they chased after them.
The mutts would look back, their tongues lolling out of their mouths, making sure they could see their human friends.
Some adults would half-heartedly chastise them, but still laugh.
He could hear all sorts of different accents among the chatter; the light swishing utterance of the west coast, the heavy brogue of the north, the melodic east, the careful drawl of the south and midlands.
James knew their customs were just as different as their way of speaking.
Khearia couldn't be considered a culturally homogenous tribe, it was a large nation with so many different histories within itself.
Alex guided them to another inn, the building sparsely occupied by customers. A stable boy took their horses through the passage that punctured the building, tunnelling through. The group entered through the front door, waiting by the counter to be seen.
"Bit too early for a drink, isn't it?" James commented.
"We're not drinking," Alex grunted. "This is the check-in point."
Fletcher looked around the room, but James didn't think there was much to see. The floor was stone, but the rest was wood; wooden walls, wooden tables, wooden chairs. Even the two guests that drank silently in the corner looked wooden and stiff.
"I thought there was an official Drykas post in the capital," Fletcher said.
Alex had to lean down significantly to murmur in his ear. "We're not using official channels for this one."
Fletcher nodded in understanding.
A small slave boy, no older than ten, had been sweeping the floor but had stopped to regard their group curiously. James noticed he was paying particular attention to Alex, it must have been an unusual sight; an ethnically Ashadi man roaming free. He wondered what they thought of him.
Whilst the rest of their group seemed to have been bitten by the sun, Fletcher's nose in particular looked red enough for even James to see. Alex's skin, though, had only darkened a shade. James thought it looked nice on him. Unlike his complexion, Alex's hair had lightened, slightly sun-bleached.
"Do you get sunburnt?" James asked him. He didn't see any.
Alex eyed him for a moment, trying to ascertain the intention behind the question. "Of course. But, not nearly as easily."
James hummed in approval. It was a pretty neat benefit. "It suits you."
"What does?"
James gestured vaguely, regretting bringing it up. He'd promised Alex he wouldn't insensitively comment on his race anymore. He'd thought the compliment would be okay, but now he wasn't so sure. Where did the line begin? He didn't know.
Thankfully, he was saved by Riley, of all people.
"Can you stop trying to have 'private' chats using the royal language? I can understand every word. It makes the whole thing redundant."
James was more than happy to entertain the complaint if it meant he could change the subject. He flicked a knife out from his wrist, waving it.
"Want me to fix that issue for you?"
Riley scoffed. "You'll do what? Cut my ears off? You've already desecrated them by using such a regal language to talk about obscene and stupid things."
James tilted his head as he regarded the man. He couldn't tell if Riley was in character or if he was genuinely offended by their flippant misuse. Some royal-adjacent people got sensitive about that sort of thing.
"You do realise this language was used by commoners before, right?"
"What?"
Fletcher clapped in delight, the topic exciting him. "It's true!" he exclaimed, pushing into the conversation. He was like a mouse naively making itself an obstacle in a fight between two cats.
"It was a specific dialect from a few hundred years ago, existing only to a small community of mountain dwellers," he explained.
"These people were the ones who would eventually conquer more land and prompt the start of the series of events that would eventually result in the kingdom.
A common language was naturally formed over time and that dialect eventually became extinct— that is, beyond the nobles who still use it to hide their conversations today.
It's not even known if we pronounce those words correctly. "
"Fascinating," Riley stated blandly, truly capturing the superior image of an apathetic feline.
Thomas gave Fletcher an encouraging nudge. "That's pretty interesting, Fletch. Your knowledge is wasted on these thickos."
James put his knife away once the inn owner hurried towards them, apologising for the wait.
They were led to a private room through the back. James couldn't help but compare the situation to how he operated with his middlemen.
It was a dark and dusty place. There was a small single window at the top of one wall, parsimonious with the amount of light it let through.
A few candles had been lit, but they didn't provide much clarity.
Only Fletcher took up one of the chairs that had been provided, the rest of them stood around uneasily.
"Want to see something funny?" Thomas said, suddenly.
He rummaged through his large bag and pulled out some clothes. James squinted at it, but didn't see what was supposed to be humorous.
"It's your shirt."
"No," Thomas drawled, "it's your shirt."
James blinked, once, then twice, before realising. "Oh, fuck no."
Thomas began to laugh maniacally. James physically took a step back, hitting a wall, recoiling in disgust. The shirt was a part of the Drykas knight's uniform. They wanted James to dress up as one of them.
"No," James hissed, "I'm not doing that. I'm not wearing that."
He looked to Alex furiously, seeking backup. Alex looked back blankly, a beat passed, and then his face broke. He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands.
"It's just a shirt, James," Alex tried, his voice weary and tired.
"It's not 'just a shirt'!" James was outraged. "It's a symbol of corruption and, ah— and rape!"
"A symbol of corruption and rape," Alex echoed. "James, it's a fucking shirt. It's not that deep. Be a good boy and put the damn thing on."
"No. No! I outright refuse."
"I'll hold him down, you strip him," Riley joked to Thomas. Their laughter filled the room, echoing tightly off walls like the building was mocking him too.
"I would rather swallow glass," James spat. He'd walk in naked if he had to.
A knock at the door pierced their hysterics, promptly silencing them. Alex was the one to open the door by a slither, peering out, before allowing their guest to enter.
He was a short man, bulky, built like a tree trunk. Although the man was in casual clothes, James quickly identified the disciplined firmness of his shoulders, indicative of a knight. James watched each of his loutish movements with a suspicious vigilance.
"Your Lordship," the man greeted, "I'm thankful you made it. You're early, at that."
The man lowered himself down on a chair, putting a document on the table and licking his thumb to rake through some pages. He then glanced up, scanning them all dubiously, realising none of the rest of them were prepared to sit. He shrugged, as if to himself, and continued.
"I am here to keep a record of your movements and report these facts back to Lyechester," he said with a detached, informal tone.
"We do this due to the possible event something goes wrong and we need to retrace your steps.
Please be aware my security clearance is limited so you must be careful with your words. Now, are all of you present?"
James was hard pressed not to roll his eyes at the situation. No wonder the knights never got anything done with such clunky bureaucracy stopping them at each turn. It didn't go unnoticed to him that the man didn't introduce himself.
Alex went through the basic answers with the greasy-haired log, remaining friendly throughout each micromanaging nitpick. It was boring and metronomic enough for James to put his head back and close his eyes. Suddenly, though, there was a question Alex didn't answer.
"Where do you plan to go after this?"
James watched as Alex battled internally behind his blank expression. He wasn't the only one to pick up on the strange behaviour, Thomas was observing intensely.
"Will you excuse us for a moment?" Alex then told him.
The man was clearly miffed by the request, but saw no excuse to argue. He stood up and left. Riley immediately took post at the door, tilting his head keenly, listening through the wood. James was impressed by his instincts.
"What's the issue?" Thomas asked.
"I don't trust that man," James said, making his opinion known.
Thomas crossed his arms, exasperated. "You don't trust anyone we meet."
Alex clicked his fingers and pointed at James.
"That's exactly what my issue is. Although I'm not suspicious of this guy, I see no reason not to avoid potential risks.
To his question, I can't say it's above his security clearance, it would suggest any location we go to will be for a devious purpose. "
James agreed. "This may sound contrived, but the best way to hide something is to hide as little of it as possible. Same for lying, you want to stick to the truth as much as possible."
"Don't you think this is a little paranoid?" Thomas sighed.
"It's not just this man, though," James explained, trying to get Thomas to understand.
"There are probably hundreds of knights out there and over a dozen watched us walk in.
They may know who some of us are, they may not.
Point is, we don't know, so we need to operate under the worst case assumption, and not hide our presence.
Otherwise, as Alex said, it suggests any movement we make is devious. "
It was very likely they did know who they were.
Even though James wouldn't say it out loud, Alex stuck out severely in a crowd.
He was the only noble person of his race, and it was obvious he was high class.
Not even wearing a sign around his neck stating; 'I am Lord Alexander Chamberlain' could make his attendance more apparent.
Thomas flopped his hands, giving in, more to keep the peace than anything else. "What do you want to do then?"
James had something he could say. He shared a glance with Alex, waiting for the other man to speak first. But, Alex nodded for him to say his idea instead. He felt a tickle in his chest, Alex wanted to hear his opinion. He hoped his intelligence would impress the man.
"We need to justify Drykas presence here, whilst also removing Drykas interest in the financial records," James said. "I think we need to change our plan based on that too."
Alex's brows furrowed. "But, we need to enter the records office to get what we need."
"No. Not all of us, we don't. Fletcher, though, yes. We could pair Fletcher up with someone and send them to the records, whilst the rest of us justify our visit for an entirely unrelated reason. It could be anything."
"I would be suitable to go with Fletcher," Riley volunteered. He remained by the door, but had taken an interest in their discussion. "Not only do I have unconditional access to these areas, but I could claim I'm spying on him if questioned."
Alex thought for a moment, a few beats of silence passed, only the distant noise of public chatter mumbled through the walls.
The logic made sense to James, he just needed to think of something slightly incriminating for the rest of them to do in the meantime, drawing the attention away from the scholar and towards the Drykas knights.
It needed to be suspicious enough to capture their scrutiny, but innocuous enough that they didn't get interrogated.
"And the rest of us?" Alex asked.
James was stumped, but Riley seemed to have a suggestion.
"I actually have a favour to ask, on that note," Riley said. "I want someone to look around Llwyd Straton in the criminal archives whilst Fletcher and I look through the financial reports."
The criminal archives. That would be a good bet.
"You never looked yourself?" Alex asked in surprise.
"I didn't want Prince Maurice to think I'm curious about anything, ever. So, I can't go there."
"Sounds decent enough," James allowed. "We won't be hiding much by doing this, nor will Fletcher appear suspicious."
"Only problem is that I may get distracted if people approach me," Riley admitted, "and a lot of people probably will."
Alex considered this for a moment before making a decision.
"You will go with Riley and Fletcher," Alex decided, pointing squarely at James. "You can be their backup. Plus, with your track record, I don't trust you near the criminal records."
James shrugged, unapologetic. "Cleaning up the streets isn't a bad thing. I just need to know where the dirt is."
"Which isn't going to happen on my watch."
"That means I don't have to pretend to be a Drykas knight, right?" he asked, keeping the excitement from his voice.
"You could be my assistant," Fletcher suggested.
James grinned, amused. He loved playing a character. "Do I look like a fucking scholar though, man? Give me a different role."
Fletcher assessed him, quickly offering a new proposal. "Bodyguard, then. I'm from a wealthy family, I often had one."
"Would they even let bodyguards in?" Alex questioned.
"They will if I'm there," Riley claimed, "I'll make them let him in. No weapons, though."
James felt his heart throb with the kind of nervous excitement he always experienced before a kill. He'd always found it thrilling pretending to be someone he wasn't. "Perfect."
"That's our plan then," Alex concluded.
"After we're both done, we'll meet at the flower courtyard, just in case there's more we need to look at.
We don't want to be reentering that place writing our names down twice.
There's a sundial there, if not all of us make it there two hours after entering, leave.
And don't come back here either," Alex tilted his head towards the door where the man left.
Thomas could complain they were being paranoid, but assurance was a luxury reserved only for the stupid.
"We're not going separately?" Riley asked.
"No, we need to stick as close to the truth as we can get."
James swelled with pride, hearing his words get echoed. Alex must have thought he was incredible, which he was.
As Riley went out to retrieve their Drykas contact, James rocked back on his heels. This was just like what he'd spent his life doing. He'd never enjoyed his job, but he was good at it, and he adored getting to show off, proving how skilled he was. Who didn't?
If he performed well enough, maybe Alex's opinion of him would peak.
He'd work hard for that.