It was nearly dawn when Crow was roused from his slumber by the sound of soft footsteps in the grass. He opened his eyes and sat up with a weary frown, slightly disoriented after waking up from a deeper-than-usual sleep. At first, he assumed it must have been morning and that the others were getting up to start tearing down their camp. However, there was no morning sunlight coming in through the slit in the front of his tent, and Otto had never forced them to get on the road while it was still dark. The belated realization sent off alarm bells in his head, and he tensed. Whoever was walking around their camp now wasn’t supposed to be there.

With no weapon close by to protect himself, the former thief crept over to the opening in his tent and peered through the gap to see if he could get a look at the late-night visitors. His heartbeat quickened in his chest as he caught sight of two silhouettes sneaking around the clearing and whispering to each other in hushed voices. In their hands were drawn swords. Whoever they were, they obviously weren’t friendly, and his breath caught in his throat as he jumped to the worry that the men were mercenaries. He still remembered vividly the cloaked man he’d seen in Bellmare, and he couldn’t think of anyone else who would want to attack them in the middle of the night. If these two had come to kill them in their sleep they had to be hired killers.

He crouched tensely by the edge of his tent, watching as the silhouettes stopped near the center of the camp to continue speaking in hushed tones. He needed to think of a way to wake the others up without getting himself killed first. Since Otto had told the Younisians about them, they group had decided against having anyone keep watch for the night. It had seemed safe enough for all of them to get as much rest as they could as long as the native knights were already patrolling the area—

At the thought, he furrowed his brows, noticing something else about the men in their camp: They were wearing full suits of armor. He studied them a little more closely, confused by the detail. As far as he knew, mercenaries didn’t wear armor. It almost looked like they were Younisians, but if they were, then why were they walking around with their weapons drawn? Theroulde had told them where their camp was, so they should have known that they weren’t a threat to their battalion. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but now that he felt more confident that he was looking at a pair of knights, he decided it was safe enough to ask them, himself.

Reaching for the parcel that contained the sealed letter from his father, he climbed to his feet and brushed past the flap of his tent to confront the men. They turned toward him at the sound of his rustling, and he waved the parchment with a tired yawn, “Anyone care to explain to me why two knights are in our camp this early in the—Hey, what the hell?” He startled and compulsively held up his hands as the knights advanced toward him with their blades trained on his chest. The men wore glowers on their faces until a flicker of recognition crossed through their eyes.

“Oh, it’s just the thief,” one of them said dryly, though he didn’t lower his sword.

“What are you doing, lurking in our territory in the dead of night?” the other asked sharply.

“Relax, I’m not here to steal from you,” Crow assured them. Gingerly, he tried to push one of the blades away from his chest with a finger, but the knight who was holding it didn’t budge. It seemed that Otto had left out the rather important detail that he was now Albin’s ambassador. He fought the urge to wrinkle his nose, annoyed that he’d been left with the task of filling them in while they thought he was an enemy. “I have proof,” he added, flashing the parchment again. “Here, look. The king of Brerra promoted me. I’m with the nobles who came here to parley with the king of Younis.”

“Parley?” One of the knights echoed, exchanging a glance with his comrade. He snatched the letter unceremoniously from the viceroy’s hand and reviewed the contents. “This does look like the Brerratic king’s seal,” he mused, sounding almost disappointed that the letter was authentic.

“Yes, but how do you know he didn’t steal it?” the other pointed out, eyeing the former thief with distrust.

“If I was lying, then why would a baron vouch for me?” Crow countered, giving the sword against his chest another irritable shove. “I’m King Albin’s viceroy, and the knights who are with me are my bodyguards.”

To his surprise, the Younisians barked a laugh. “What knights?” the first one asked tauntingly. “All I see here is a camp full of lying bandits.”

“Theroulde didn’t tell you where we were camping?” Crow stared at them confusedly.

Neither of the knights bothered to answer his question. Instead, one signaled something to the other, and they stepped forward to grab him by the wrists. “Nice try, thief,” one sneered as they apprehended him. “You’re not going to be stealing anything else from our battalion now that we caught you trespassing in Younis.”

“I’m not trespassing!” Crow snarled, struggling against their iron grips. “I was sent here by the king of Brerra; I’m not here to take anything from your battalion. Let me go!” He winced as the knights pinned his arms roughly behind his back, his mind racing as he tried to grasp what was going on. Even if the Younisians doubted him, it should have been obvious that there was at least some truth to his claims because he was traveling with Brerratic knights. However, it almost sounded like the two men hadn’t been aware that he or the others were there to begin with. He wondered if they were from a different camp than the one Otto had visited. Of course, it was just his luck that knights from a different battalion would be the ones to stumble into their campsite.

The sounds of their struggling was enough to attract more attention though, and in the next few seconds, Percival and Rayner had climbed out of their tents to see what was going on. The former caught sight of the Younisians trying to arrest the viceroy and blanched, jogging over to intervene before they took him away. “What’s going on here?” he asked and then faltered when one of the knights turned his sword on him.

“You thieves keep getting dumber and dumber,” the Younisian scoffed. “Back off, or I’ll run you through right here.”

“Thieves?” Percival blinked and turned to Crow for clarity.

“These [i]idiots[/i],” the viceroy growled, shooting the knights a scathing look, “think we’re a camp of bandits.”

“What?” Percy knitted his brows and looked at the others again. “There’s been a misunderstanding. We were sent here by King Albin to negotiate with your king to end the war. My name is Percival Granger, and this is Lieutenant Theroulde.” He gestured at Rayner, who had stepped over as well. “Baron Theroulde and Princess Mannering are with us as well. Otto should have told you we were here last evening… You did receive word that we made camp here, right?”

“We heard no such thing,” one of the Younisians insisted, though he looked a little less certain than before. Even though the people of the northwestern kingdom spoke a different dialect, they could hear the formal inflections in Percival’s voice that denoted his status as a nobleman. Because of his upbringing in the inner kingdom, he was more convincing than the peasant-turned-viceroy they had apprehended.

“He’s telling the truth,” Rayner pitched in with a frown. “We were assigned to escort Collin to see your king, and we have more than enough evidence to prove it to you.” With a wave of his hand, he beckoned the knights to follow him to the pile of saddlebags, where he revealed the scrolls and other papers they had brought along for the parley. While he was showing off the negotiation resources, Naida shuffled out of her tent to join them too, and Preston stood off to the side, watching from a distance. The overwhelming proof that they were indeed nobles from the inner kingdom finally convinced the Younisians to let Crow go—albeit reluctantly—and return to their own camp to spread word to the other knights that there were traveling dignitaries in their land.

As they walked away, Crow followed them with his gaze, rubbing his sore wrists. The knights were headed back to the same camp that Otto had claimed that he’d visited just hours ago. He narrowed his eyes. Something wasn’t right. “Where’s Otto?” he turned to Percival, who had stepped over to stand by his side. “I want to know why it seems like the Younisians had no idea we were here.”

Percy met his gaze with a troubled expression, “I… don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Crow growled. As they spoke, the others slowly started tuning into the conversation as well. “He should be in his tent.”

Percival grimaced at the frustration in the viceroy’s voice, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “That’s the thing… While Rayner was showing the Younisians proof of why we’re here, I went to his tent to ask him what was going on because I assumed he might know, but… it was empty. His mat was still warm, so I think he slipped out while we were distracted by those two knights… He’s gone, Collin.”

Crow stared at him, stunned. He was certain now that Otto must not have spoken to the Younisians at all when he’d left their camp earlier, but he didn’t understand what the baron was doing. Had he been ashamed of getting caught in his lie, or had he been using the other knights as a cover for something else? Perplexed by the turn of events, he raked his fingers through his dark hair. “He can’t have gone far… We should search the area,” he said slowly, trying to piece together a plan even though he still felt blind. All this time, he’d been worried about mercenaries, but it was starting to look like he’d been oblivious to a much closer cause for concern.

“Wait, I still don’t understand though,” Naida shook her head. “Why did Otto leave?”

“We don’t know either,” Crow exhaled. “But we don’t have time to stand here and puzzle over it. We need to find him before he puts too much distance between us. We’ll get our answers then.”

“I agree,” Percy nodded solemnly. “It’s clear now that he’s hiding something, and if he’s a danger to Collin or to our assignment, we need to stop him.”

“And,” Crow glanced at Rayner, who was listening to the conversation with a dumbfounded expression. All the color had drained from his face, and his lips were slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t have the words. “Tie him up,” the viceroy ordered. “If he’s in on it too, we can’t have him running around freely.”

“What?” Rayner broke free from his trance, taking a step back from them. “I-I don’t know what’s going on, I swear! I’m sure my father has a good explanation for this too… He wouldn’t abandon us without a cause. He’ll be back soon enough, and then he can tell us, himself…”

“I’m sorry,” Percy offered him a sympathetic look as he stepped over to the lieutenant and took hold of his arm. “Even if you aren’t part of this, we can’t take any chances.” He led the other man over to a tree, still protesting, and bound him to it with a chain that had been stowed away in one of the saddlebags.

Once that was taken care of, the remaining four quickly bridled two horses and split up into teams to hunt down the missing baron. Naida and Preston mounted one horse together and took off to search the west side of the camp while Crow and Percival took the knight’s stallion to sweep the east side. Otto’s steed had been left behind, so they hoped to catch him fleeing the area on foot. Acutely aware that each passing minute dimmed their chances of catching Theroulde, they rode as fast as they could through the woods to find him before he could get away.