After Hunter had left the room, Crow and his father resumed working on his lesson for the day. The viceroy practiced reading, writing and conversing in Gorman to prove that he was fluent enough to handle the pressure of conducting a formal meeting with native speakers, and by the end of it, the king lauded his rapid progress. Although he hoped the trip to northern kingdom would fall through, Albin’s praises warmed the former thief. It felt good to be recognized for his achievements by the only living family member he had left—excluding the half siblings he had only learned existed about a month ago. He had never thought he would want anything to do with the man who had abandoned him and his mother twenty-three years ago, but now, sitting in Albin Mannering’s bedchamber, he was more content than he’d ever dreamed possible. Finding his family late had been better than not finding it at all, he supposed.

Having been sitting for more of the afternoon, Crow and his father both stood to stretch their legs when they were done going through all the material the king had laid out. “Well, all that’s left now is to prepare your supplies and guards and gather the council to discuss the acceptable terms of the negotiation,” Albin groaned, arching his back. “At this rate, we may even be able to send you on your way at the end of three days.”

“I thought I had more time,” Crow frowned, unsettled by his father’s urge to push the deadline up yet again.

“What do you need more time for?” Albin sighed. “The sooner we enlist our allies to help, the sooner this war will end. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” the viceroy admitted reluctantly. “But I haven’t even had this title for longer than a month, and I’ve only left Brerra once before. It just feels like everything is happening so fast.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling nervous, Collin,” Albin smiled at him amusedly. “I was nervous on my first assignment too. However, I can’t keep putting this off until you feel ready. Trust me, it’s better to just get it over with rather than cause yourself unnecessary stress by thinking about it for days on end. You’ll thank me later.”

“I guess so,” Crow mumbled, wishing that he could tell his father that he wasn’t nervous about the assignment itself, but the king with whom he was supposed to be negotiating. The warning Toreus had given Penelope lingered in his head. While Albin’s plan sounded foolproof, he knew it wouldn’t work. Not as long as there was a literal [i]god[/i] telling them that they only had one choice if they wanted to save their kingdom from monumental destruction. He took a deep breath. If he could have just told his father that a deity had said had to seek peace with Younis, it would have been easier. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of any possible way that conversation could end without ending in his sanity being questioned, so he kept his mouth shut.

In the next moment, another knock sounded on the door, sparing Crow from a lengthier lecture about how he should handle his assignment in Gorm. “Come in,” Albin called, clearly used to being sporadically interrupted by visitors.

This time, it was Braden who entered. The second born son’s eyes flicked toward the viceroy and narrowed briefly before he turned to his father. “A report just came in from baron Harold’s battalion,” he announced stoically. “They’ve had to fall back to Troutbeck and are requesting aid to reconquer Redwick and Sutton.”

“Damn it,” Albin exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to take at least a week for supplies to reach that far west. I have half a mind to put someone else in charge of that region if Harold is incapable of holding our territory.”

“I’d suggest baron Fordwin,” Braden crossed his arms. “He’s an excellent tactician who would do well on the frontlines.”

“Send him with the next wagon,” the king waved his hand dismissively, obviously disinterested in who the other baron’s replacement would be.

“Baron Harold is actually waiting in your council chamber now,” Braden notified him tentatively. “You might want to tell him yourself.”

“Of course he is,” Albin muttered. “That fool doesn’t know how to manage his men. In fact, I’ll relieve him of the burden right now.” He turned to Crow, who had been listening to the conversation with a nonplussed look on his face, unsure what to make of the situation since he wasn’t educated in warfare. “You’re free to go early, Collin. It seems I have an incompetent baron to deal with.”

“O-okay,” the viceroy nodded. He had no interest in getting involved with the fate of a man he’d never met, so he eagerly stepped out of the room. Braden casted him a smug look as he passed, seeming pleased that he was more useful to their father in the current moment than his half-brother. Crow ignored him. While the crown prince could best him in the intricacies of war, he could skip circles around him when it came to foreign cultures and languages. Knowing that made it easy for him to brush off his younger sibling’s hostile behavior.

With plenty of time left before supper, he headed back to his bedchamber to get his cloak, deciding he might as well find something to do outside of the castle walls while he had a chance.