Instead I wrote:

  The Northern Kingdoms situation is more complicated than Prince Adrian indicated. Someone is manipulating supply chains to keep ward materials expensive. We’ll know more once we arrive and assess the actual infrastructure. Felix is already planning seventeen different approaches, which means he’ll settle on the eighteenth option he hasn’t thought of yet.

  I’ll write again from the capital. Miss you.

  Marcus

  I folded the letter and tucked it into my journal. We would pass a courier station tomorrow. The letter would reach Millbrook within a few days.

  Felix emerged from his tent with the expression of a man who had made difficult choices.

  “Ivory tapers,” he announced. “For the unity candles. Katherine’s mother will hate them, but ivory matches the linens she has already selected.”

  “Bold decision.”

  “It was ivory or champagne blush, and I refuse to acknowledge that champagne blush is a real color.” He sat down by the fire. “Fourteen more decisions to go.”

  “You’ll manage.”

  Felix chuckled. “I’ll survive. Managing implies competence I don’t currently possess.”

  I stared into the flames for several moments. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “How do you do it? The long-distance thing with Katherine.” I gestured vaguely. “Sarah and I see each other every day. I don’t know how to do weeks apart.”

  “You write letters. You trust each other. You remember that the separation is temporary.” Felix shrugged. “And you try not to count the days too carefully.”

  “That sounds difficult.”

  “It is.” He watched the fire crackle. “But she’s worth it. Sarah’s worth it too. You’ll manage.”

  Kyle approached with a fresh pot of tea. He poured cups for both of us without asking.

  “Two more days to the capital,” he said. “Then another week to Keldrath depending on road conditions. You should use the time to rest. Once the real work starts, you won’t have much opportunity.”

  “Noted.” I accepted the tea. “What can you tell us about Keldrath’s culture and people?”

  “Proud folk. Independent. They don’t take kindly to outsiders telling them their ways are wrong.” Kyle settled onto a log across from us. “But they’re practical above all else. Show them a better solution and they’ll adopt it. Just don’t expect them to thank you for it.”

  “Sounds like Millbrook.”

  “Similar roots. Highland stock, both of them. The Northern Kingdoms split from the southern realms three centuries ago over a trade dispute that nobody remembers anymore.” Kyle shrugged. “It’s ancient history. What matters now is that they’re allies but not friends. Cooperation happens when it benefits everyone. I think Prince Adrian is trying to fix that.”

  “And Prince Duncan?”

  “He’s a good man, and more importantly, an honest one. He genuinely cares about his people.” Kyle’s expression grew thoughtful. “He and Adrian have been friends since they were children. Close as brothers, from what I understand. So when Prince Duncan asked for help with the situation, Prince Adrian took it personally.” Kyle shrugged. “And he’d already seen what you two could do with limited resources.”

  I scoffed. “The situation being economic manipulation disguised as market forces.”

  “Reframe the definition,” Kyle said. “The situation being his friend’s kingdom slowly strangling because someone decided infrastructure failure was profitable.” He finished his tea. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we push hard to make up time. I want to reach the capital before the evening gates close the day after.”

  I lay in my tent as the cold seeped through the canvas. Water murmured over stones nearby. Wind moved through the branches above. My breath fogged faintly in the darkness and I could hear the quiet murmur of Shade taking first watch somewhere nearby.

  Felix snored softly in the tent beside mine. He had finally made some progress on Katherine’s list, or at least surrendered to it. Tomorrow he would probably remember three more decisions he had forgotten to make.

  Sleep came slowly. When it finally arrived, I dreamed of trade routes drawn in ink across a map that kept changing shape. Someone erased the lines as fast as I could draw them. Someone who did not want the connections made.

  I woke to grey dawn and Kyle’s voice calling the camp to movement.

  Two more days to the capital.

  Then the real work would begin.

  Chapter 7

  Gilded And Otherwise

  The capital rose from the plains like it always had. I knew those walls. Those towers. The streets where I’d grown up and the market squares where I’d learned to calculate profit margins in my head. This was home before Father sent me to find my own path. Strange how a year in Millbrook could make it feel foreign.

  The towers stretched toward the sky. Walls that had never fallen in three centuries of warfare ringed the city in concentric circles. Smoke from thousands of chimneys created a haze that hung over everything like a permanent cloud. The city breathed, and its breath smelled of industry and humanity and power.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Felix had pressed his face to the carriage window like a child seeing the ocean for the first time.

  “Grand. Overwhelming. Always busy.” I watched the gates grow larger as we approached. I chuckled. “Exactly as I remember it.”

  The royal summons got us through the outer gates without delay. Guards who would have questioned ordinary travelers simply waved us through when they saw the seal. Kyle’s team fell into formation around the carriage as we entered the city proper.

  The streets narrowed as we moved deeper into the capital. Buildings pressed close on either side and people filled every available space. The noise hit us even through the carriage walls. Vendors shouted and carts rattled with the constant murmur of thousands of lives happening simultaneously.

  Then the streets widened again and we emerged into a military staging ground that occupied an entire district. To the normal person, it would look like organized chaos that stretched in every direction. But my short time as a merchant apprentice taught me otherwise.

  Wagons were lined up in neat rows where soldiers checked equipment with the methodical attention of professionals. Supply crates bore stamps from a dozen different provinces and royal banners flew above command tents that had been erected with geometric precision.

  “Expeditions heading north over the next week,” Kyle said through the carriage window. “This is where they stage diplomatic and military operations into the allied kingdoms. Keldrath included.”

  Our carriage rolled to a stop in a designated area marked with temporary posts. A quartermaster approached before we had finished climbing out.

  “Fairwind and Penwright?” He consulted a list on his clipboard. “You’re expected. Prince Adrian’s party is in staging area three. Follow the blue markers.”

  The staging area was a controlled hurricane of activity. Teams prepared for departure all around us. I counted at least five separate expeditions in various states of readiness. Horses stamped. Men shouted orders. The smell of oil and leather and horse sweat filled the air.

  Prince Adrian stood in the center of it all.

  He wore formal attire that probably cost more than our shop’s annual income. A sword hung at his hip in an ornate scabbard. His posture radiated the particular confidence of someone who had never been told no. Two guards flanked him and wore armor that had seen actual combat.

  The first carried a war hammer strapped to his back. His face bore scars that suggested the weapon had been used and that the people it had been used against had friends who fought back. When he moved, it was with the economy of someone who knew exactly how much energy combat required.

  The second bore a two-handed axe with similar practicality. Where his companion was scarred, this one was weathered. Sun-damaged skin and calloused hands spoke of years holding that weapon. His eyes cataloged every person and exit in the staging area without appearing to move.

  Roderick and Henrick. I remembered them from the dungeon expedition in the eastern provinces. We had bled together in those tunnels. That created bonds that formal introductions could not match.

  Adrian noticed our approach. His expression shifted into something properly princely.

  “Journeyman Fairwind. Journeyman Penwright.” His voice carried the formal tone required for public settings. “Thank you for answering the crown’s summons. Your expertise is valued.”

  Felix and I offered the appropriate bows.

  “Your Highness,” I said. “We are honored to serve.”

  The formality lasted precisely long enough for the nearest observers to lose interest.

  “That’s enough of that,” Adrian said. His posture relaxed and his voice dropped to something closer to warmth. “Good to see you both. Truly.”

  “And you,” I said. “Though I hadn’t expected so much activity.”

  “Change of plans. Father insisted I coordinate the expedition personally from the capital.” Adrian gestured to his guards. “You remember Roderick and Henrick?”

  Roderick stepped forward and clasped my hand with a grip that could have crushed stone. “Fairwind. Heard you’ve been causing trouble in Millbrook. Ward networks and local innovations.”

  “Just trying to stay busy.”

  “Busy is good. Keeps the mind sharp.” He released my hand and turned to Felix. “Penwright. Still documenting everything that moves?”

  “Documentation saves lives,” Felix said with dignity.

  “That it does.” Roderick’s scarred face almost smiled. “That it does.”

  Henrick offered a quieter greeting of a nod and brief handshake. But his eyes continued their constant surveillance even as he acknowledged us. Some habits apparently ran too deep to break.

  A commotion near the staging area entrance drew everyone’s attention as a party of adventurers swept through the grounds with the confidence of people who expected the world to notice them. Their leader wore golden armor that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Every piece had been polished to a mirror shine and he moved with the swagger of someone who had never experienced failure.

  “Vance Goldmantle,” Kyle said quietly. “Of the Gilded Vanguard. Famous for high-profile dungeon clears and making sure everyone knows about them.”

  The crowd parted as Goldmantle passed. Someone called out to him. He waved and smiled and basked in the attention. His party followed in a formation that felt more like a parade than a travel group.

  Then I noticed the figure at the back.

  She was young. Maybe my age or a year older. She carried packs and bedrolls and equipment that should have been distributed among the entire party. Her shoulders bent under the weight and her steps dragged. No one in the group ahead of her looked back to check on her.

  “Watch the one carrying all the gear,” Kyle said. His voice had gone flat. “That’s not how you treat a teammate.”

  Garrett walked up to Kyle’s other side. “A party that treats its weakest member like that will break when it matters most.”

  “I’ve seen parties like that,” Kyle continued. His eyes tracked the Gilded Vanguard as they moved toward a different staging area. “The shiny ones always leave people behind.”

  Adrian had noticed too and his expression shifted to something troubled.

  “It’s quite disappointing,” he said. “But team dynamics aren’t something I can interfere with.” He frowned. “I can only hope she finds her spine and stands up to them someday.”

  The Gilded Vanguard disappeared into the crowd. The moment passed and activity resumed around us as if nothing had happened.

  But I filed away the image of the young woman bent under other people’s burdens. The party that did not look back. Some patterns told you everything you needed to know.

  Adrian excused himself to change into traveling clothes.

  “I’ll be ten minutes. Roderick, see that our guests are comfortable. Henrick, verify the supply manifest one more time.”

  Both guards nodded and moved to their tasks. Roderick led us toward a supply wagon where water and rations had been laid out for the expedition members.

  “What’s Keldrath like?” Felix asked. “Have you been there before?”

  “Several times. It’s cold. And beautiful. The people are proud but fair.” Roderick handed us cups of water. “You’ll do well there.”

  Henrick returned with a clipboard and a concerned expression.

  “The supply manifest is complete. Everything’s accounted for.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “There’s an additional shipment marked with the royal seal. It’s a personal gift from the king.”

  “The king sent supplies?” I asked.

  “Quality equipment, travel gear, and preserved rations that actually taste like food.” Henrick allowed himself a small smile. “Adrian’s father wants this expedition to succeed. He’s investing accordingly.”

  Adrian returned in traveling leathers and every trace of the formal prince had vanished. The ornate sword remained at his hip, but his posture had loosened. He moved like the man we remembered from the dungeon expedition.

  “Much better,” he said. “Shall we?”

  “The wagons are ready,” Roderick reported. “Kyle’s team has taken escort positions. We can depart at your command.”

  “One more thing first.” Adrian turned to Felix and me. “Erasmus asked me to pass along a message. He headed east a few days ago. The situation there is worse than anyone expected, so he’ll be occupied for a while. He wishes you luck and says he’ll catch up when he can.”

  “Worse than expected?” Felix frowned. “We heard the eastern wards were failing, but Erasmus seemed confident he could stabilize them.”

  “Confidence and reality don’t always align.” Adrian’s expression grew serious. “The failures are cascading. Entire districts are rebuilding from scratch. He’ll be occupied for months at minimum.”

  I thought about Erasmus bent over his workbench in Millbrook and the grumpy competence that hid genuine care. The way he pretended not to worry about his former apprentice while worrying constantly.

  “He’ll manage,” I said. “He always does.”

  “He will. But he wanted you to know he’s thinking of you.” Adrian clapped me on the shoulder. “Now. Shall we? Keldrath won’t fix itself.”

  Kyle’s Silver Compass Company took escort positions around the convoy. Elara rode point with Garrett. Brother Francis and Shade flanked the main wagon. Kyle himself ranged between positions with the easy confidence of someone who had done this countless times.

  Adrian climbed into the wagon with Roderick and Henrick. Felix and I joined them. The interior was spacious by wagon standards. It had padded benches and small windows with shutters that could be opened or closed. It had room enough for six people to travel without climbing over each other.

  The second wagon was full of food stores and equipment. The shipment was marked with royal seals that represented the king’s investment in our success. Everything we might need for weeks of work in foreign territory.

  The convoy lurched into motion and the capital rolled past the windows. Streets gave way to gates then gave way to open road. The city that had seemed so overwhelming grew smaller behind us and the smoke, towers and constant noise of humanity faded into distance.

  Ahead, the road stretched north toward Keldrath.

  “I assume you brought ward anchors?” Adrian asked.

  I nodded. “Tom made several batches just in case.”

  Adrian nodded. “We’ll place them along the route to extend your communication network. By the time we reach Valdmere, you should be able to contact Millbrook directly.”

  “You’ve thought this through.”

  “I’ve had time.” Adrian settled into his seat with the air of someone preparing for a long journey. “The infrastructure problems in Keldrath are real. The material costs are suspicious. And someone is profiting from both.” His eyes met mine. “We’re walking into something complicated, Marcus. Your merchant instincts may prove more valuable than your ward work before this is done.”

  Chapter 8

  Old Scars

  We stopped on the second day at a ridge overlooking a river valley.

  “Good location,” Felix said. He had his documentation spread across the wagon seat and studied the terrain with the intensity of someone calculating angles in his head. “The elevation gives us line of sight to the last anchor point.”

  I climbed out of the wagon and stretched muscles that had grown stiff from hours of sitting. Kyle’s team had already established a perimeter. Garrett vanished into the trees to scout while the others watered the horses at a stream that fed into the valley below.

  Adrian joined us with Roderick and Henrick flanking him out of habit more than necessity.

  “Network extension?” Adrian asked.

  “First anchor north of the capital.” I pulled out the supply case that held Tom’s work. Before we left Millbrook, he had forged two dozen anchor spikes specifically for this journey. Each one was eight inches of hardened steel with a flat head designed to accept inscriptions. The metal held enchantment better than anything I could buy from suppliers. Tom’s craftsmanship made our innovations possible.

  “Show me how it works,” Adrian said. “I’ve seen the results, but never really noted the process.”

  Felix found a flat stone outcropping with good drainage and stable ground beneath. He marked the exact position with chalk while I prepared my inscription materials.

  “The spike goes here.” Felix pointed. “Angled seventeen degrees toward the last anchor point. The inscription faces skyward to catch ambient energy during daylight hours.”

  Roderick drove the spike into the ground with three precise hammer blows. The steel sank into earth and stone until only the flat head remained visible. The impact rang across the valley and startled birds from nearby trees.