The rank stench of fish hung in the air. The docks were filled with men loading and unloading cargo who paid them little attention as they walked by. Kostas was a squat man in a gray robe much too big for him, and he was standing alone at the end of a pier, his face puckered into a sour expression. Or maybe that was just how his face looked. Olivier had given him a brief rundown on the man – Kostas was a Graecian scholar who had fled the empire after supporting the wrong faction.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet us,” Roel said.

The Graecian ignored him and turned to Olivier. “The money?”

“Of course.” Olivier handed him a coin pouch, and after inspecting its contents, Kostas grunted and tucked it into his robe.

“I’ll have to be more careful from now on,” Kostas spoke in a monotone, but there was a hint of annoyance. His Calcais was near-perfect, though he spoke slowly as if trying to remember each word. “How did you know that I was in the city?”

Olivier smiled. “A merchant guild knows all of its customers.”

“Damn merchants.” Kostas turned to Roel. “And I’ve heard plenty about you paladins. Of you, in particular. The first paladin to lead an army. And here I thought a merchant had called me out to sell me something. So, you’re the one who needs information.”

“It’s good to meet you, Kostas,” he said.

“Blessed by a god, are you? Unfortunately, I don’t believe in any. Show me it. Your blessing.”

“Do all Graecians lack manners?” Olivier interjected.

“It’s fine.” The scholar’s demanding tone annoyed him, but he saw no reason to refuse. He made sure none of the sailors were watching them, and he held out his right hand, a golden glow suffusing it.

“The difference between hearing about it and seeing it,” Kostas said with a frown. He reached into his robe and pulled out a dagger.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Olivier yelled.

With a quick motion, he unsheathed it and drove it into Roel’s palm. The blade came to a halt upon making contact with his blessing.

“Satisfied?” he asked Kostas. He couldn’t hide his frown. He had only known the man for less than a few minutes, but he already detested him.

“I expected the blade to break,” Kostas mused as he inspected his dagger. “Or perhaps your so-called Lord’s Favor is one of the weaker ones?”

“Let’s just get to it,” he said. “We paid you the money, and I showed you my blessing.”

“I’m not made of time either,” Kostas replied. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of man is Emperor Nero?”

Kostas met his eyes for the first time. There was a thoughtful expression on his face that reminded him of Cardinal Eudes for some reason. “That’s the first thing you want to know?”

“I believe that understanding the man in charge will help me know what to expect.” After all, he had won the Battle of Wetshard because he knew Ganelon was an arrogant man who relied too heavily on his blessing.

“Smarter than you look,” Kostas said. “The first thing I’ll tell you is that our emperors are nothing like your kings. Yours ascends to the throne through birthright; ours is elected by the Graecian Senate. We choose those best fit for the throne. A nation shouldn’t be led by some inbred fool with delusions of godhood.”

“So, how did you end up in Albine?” Olivier said with a sneer. “Either Emperor Nero isn’t fit for the throne or you aren’t a very wise scholar.”

Kostas’s expression darkened. “I overestimated General Aelius. He was too confident and didn’t make appeals to the other senators as Nero did.”

“They also say that Graecian emperors change with the weather,” Olivier said. “Emperor Nero is, what, your ninth emperor in the last two decades? Sounds like your senate has poor judgment.”

“Seventh,” Kostas said, scowling. “Are you saying it’s better to have one old fool control an entire kingdom for decades? Your King Maxime reveled in pointless bloodshed. And you call us savages.”

“The end result is that we –”

“Olivier, we’re not here to argue with each other,” Roel interrupted. “Answer my question, Kostas. Tell me about Emperor Nero. He doesn’t sound like a very forgiving man if you had to flee.”

“He’s ruthless,” Kostas said, and there was a strange admiration mixed in his words. “As your flamboyant merchant friend pointed out, the empire goes through a lot of internal turmoil. Assassinations, coups, overturned elections. Emperor Nero has learned from the mistakes of his predecessors. I imagine he’s purged most of Aelius’ supporters by now. His own mother conspired against him; one of his first imperial orders was to have her executed.”

“Ruthless indeed,” he said quietly. “So why didn’t you support him?”

Kostas was silent for a moment. “He’s not fit.”

Olivier cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re just bitter about betting on the wrong horse.”

“I don’t care what you think, merchant,” Kostas said disdainfully. “It’s the difference between a soldier and a general. When the battle starts, the soldier is responsible solely for his own life whereas the general carries the weight of all his men’s lives. Emperor Nero could be the strongest soldier, but he lacks the quality of a general. He watches the world through a stained-glass window.”

“Is that some kind of Graecian proverb?” Olivier asked, frowning. “Also, if you’re talking about soldiers and generals, don’t you think you’re leaving out the most important thing about the emperor?”

“Most important thing?” Roel echoed.

Kostas glared at Olivier. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that that information has reached your ears. Perhaps you should switch professions from a merchant to a spy.”

“They’re the same thing, really,” Olivier quipped, and he turned to Roel. “The rumors say that Emperor Nero is an Oracle.”

“What? An Oracle as emperor?” He frowned. He’d never fought with an Oracle, but based on what he’s heard, they’re the Graecian equivalent to Divine Paladins. There were many who believed that the Oracles were part of the reason why King Maxime had been so reluctant to fight against the Graecians.

“I’ve never seen his powers personally. It could just be a scare tactic,” Kostas said, but he sounded unconvinced.

“Regardless, it’s good to know,” Roel said. “What do you think of the war? How strong is your military?”

“You’ll lose,” Kostas said immediately. “That is if Nero can unite all sixty-three provinces.”

“And how likely is that?”

“Depends. I’ve seen many emperors rise and fall. He took the throne last month. How he responds to your kingdom’s allegations will provide a good indication of what kind of a ruler he is. And if he doesn’t prove up to the task…” For the first time, Kostas smiled, and it was an unsettling one, too wide and exposing his dark purple gums. “Well, he’ll be overthrown or assassinated. That usually solves incompetence.”

Kostas might be a scholar, but there was nothing scholarly about the vicious look in his eyes. When he had pulled out the dagger earlier, Roel had noticed that his movements had been smooth, practiced. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, an intimidating gesture in this situation.

Olivier noticed his movements. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice.

“You worried I will kill you, paladin?” Kostas asked, the smile still on his face.

“Not at all,” Roel said evenly. “Because you can’t.”

“How confident. I did consider it.” The scholar’s eyes trailed over the ocean. “Kill the commander before he can lead. Or hold his merchant friend hostage.” Olivier took a step back. “I could go back to the Graecian Empire with my head held high.”

“Why don’t you then?” he asked, but he didn’t let himself get distracted. He trained his eyes on the Graecian’s movements, which was harder to do since he was wearing such an oversized robe.

“Because then the emperor will also have my head held high. On a pike.” Kostas laughed, a dry, hacking sound that was more like a coughing fit. “You asked about Emperor Nero. Let me tell you this – he is a man who relies solely on himself. He would welcome me back, and then kill me at the first opportunity.”

“So, you have no home.” Two ideas came to him, and he considered them for a moment. “Then why not join me?” he said.

“What?” Olivier stared at him. “You can’t be serious, Roel.”

“Are you asking me to betray my country and fight for you?” Kostas asked with surprise. “Incredibly daring or stupid of you.”

“Aren’t you already betraying your country by giving me all this information?” he countered. “If we had you on our side, invasions and sieges would be simple. We’d know where to expect ambushes and where to set them.”

“He could also lead you into an ambush,” Olivier said darkly. “I can see where you’re going with this, but he just admitted to plotting to kill both of us.”

“I’ll take that risk,” he said, his gaze never leaving Kostas. “Trust is gained through stalemate. You’ll be rewarded handsomely. Or if we really cannot trust each other, you’re welcome to bide your time and aim for my life. But the first time I catch you will be the last.”

Kostas looked at him thoughtfully. “I have a hard time deciding if you’re a soldier or a general, Sir Roel. Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline your offer though.” He took Olivier’s coin pouch out of his robes and shook it. “I’m at the ports today to find a ship to take me out of this country. The only thing that interests me about war is the results. I’ll be back when the dust has settled.”

“I see.” He had expected as much, but he couldn’t help feeling bitter. That meant he had to go with his second idea.

“I think you’ve taken enough of my time,” Kostas said. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“You didn’t really answer anything,” Olivier said sharply.

“I’d be happy to give more answers if you had more money,” Kostas said, shaking the coin pouch once more.

Olivier snorted. “Don’t you think you’ve squeezed enough money out of me, you misshapen potato sack?”

“It’s fine, Olivier,” he said. “We’ve learned enough.”

“A profitable day for us all,” Kostas grunted. He strode by them without sparing them a nod or a glance.

“Where’s he staying at?” he asked Olivier once the scholar was out of earshot.

“A tavern on the east side of the city,” Olivier replied. “Barrel 76.”

“Get people to keep track of his whereabouts.”

“Already have.” Olivier studied his expression. “So, we’ve come to the same conclusion. Was your offer for him to join your army a lie?”

“It wasn’t,” he said with regret. “I had hoped we could’ve solved this without resorting to violence. But I told you before, Olivier. I won’t let my sympathy hinder me. His knowledge could win battles. We can’t let him leave the city.”

“I don’t doubt that he knows more than he’s letting on,” Olivier mused. “A mere scholar fleeing from the Graecian emperor? And was he in such a rush that he left without securing all his valuables? He must be in dire straits if he has to accept money from a merchant.”

“More and more suspicious.”

“When will you do it?” Olivier asked. “Will you need help? It should be easy to bribe the tavernkeeper or the guards.”

“No. The fewer people we involve, the better.”

In the distance, he spotted Kostas talking to one of the sailors. He thought of the daggers he had concealed under his shoulder plates and greaves, but again, he decided against acting in the open. He had considered using his status as a paladin to formally arrest Kostas, but if the scholar put up a struggle, that could draw attention from the sailors and the city guards. He was already being recognized wherever he went, and he reckoned that if he stayed too long, Olivier would soon have visitors at his doorstep. More importantly, if the Graecians somehow learned he had captured Kostas, he would lose his advantage.

“It has to be tonight,” he decided.