Al, realised once more that in reality things tend to not go according to plan. Back when he had made his deal to rise up the ranks he had thought himself clever, clever enough to win this war within a couple of months with some new and brave tactics he had developed after reading up on some of the earlier skirmished between Blackriver and Goldhill.

Now, two months into the plan he had developed things seemed to go pretty badly, the most successful scout troop he had was so far behind enemy lines they were forced to attack far stronger troops to keep a way open for them to escape through. The enemies were closing in on them and only the dawn of winter could save them now, the rough conditions would force the larger groups of soldiers form Goldhill to return to small villages while the scouts were trained to survive in the wilds. Or so he had been told.

Their training of spies had been interrupted as enemies had gotten wind of the activity and despatched a group of spy hunters. Luckily some hotshot new spy found the identity of their leader and gutted the bastard before any of their spies was killed.

According to reports the recruit had not only found out the names of every competitor but also killed the enemy as soon as she had realised the potential threat for her comrades. Alaric could use a couple of more such talents since the flow of information from Goldhill was slowly drying up.

The other scholars had begun to call the new hotshot Shadow Blade, since she had managed the assassination without anyone realising the man was missing until two days later.

Her mentor Bartholomew was known to be one of the best and the two of them were currently on route to Goldhill to form a new network within the aristocrats and their informants.

With a bit of luck Blackriver would regain some form of influence in the political landscape of Goldhill.

Alaric's biggest problem however, were knews about a mercenary army coming in from the west. According to sources beyond the kingdom Goldhill had sent numerous ambassadors to neighbouring countries to ask for aid against the peasant rebellion.

While no information they had received could be proven, it remained entirely speculation on whether an army wa on route or not, but ignoring the rumours was a good way to get blindsided and get the whole rebellion killed in the process.

The whole dilemma was made more difficult to deal with since Alaric had no control over the large part of the so called army. Most of the council had not approved of his plan to starve out Goldhill instead of meeting them head on in an epic battle. But since the rebellion was currently outnumbered and out geared the following debate took little over two days to come to the conclusion his tactic should be tried as long as there was no realistic way of meeting the enemy head on in the field.

The door to his little study opened and Letar walked in arms loaded with scrolls from the little army of scribes deciphering and copying all notes regarding troop movement in the kingdom.

"Al, are you sure we need all of these notes?" The boy said as he stumbled through the tons of notes and scrolls already covering the floor.

Recently Alaric had discovered his friend was a boy, or at least he regarded him as such ever since he had overheard a discussion about him by two older colleagues calling him pretty boy. Not the most ironclad of prove, but enough to put his restless mind at ease for the moment, he would need to go swimming with his friend to figure out the truth once and for all.

"Yeah, I am sure we need to know exactly what is happening along the main road connecting Blackriver and Goldhill. I doubt the barricades along the pass will hold if any enemy force seriously tries to overcome them. Not that they have an awful lot of time now that winter is almost upon us." He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, wondering what time it was.

Letra stumbled to a chair not yet covered in paper and put his scrolls on it.

"You should consider hiring a maid... or maids, this room is drowning in paper... Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Their eyes met, Alaric raised an eyebrow, like Erik ad used to do at him whenever he had asked something strange.

"Breakfast? What about dinner?" Al was not completely sure about the time but he had suspected it being somewhat after the eighth bell in the afternoon.

"Ha Ha, funny... It's morning, more exactly its about time they close up breakfast and prepare for lunch. Are you sure you don't need more sleep? Because your eyes surely could use more rest."

Confused he picked up a small blade used for sharpening feathers, the damned things seemed to disintegrate on their own making writing readable even harder than it already was. After he got rid of the ink he tried to catch a glimpse of himself in the polished metal, which was not as successful as he had hoped. The blade must have been dented since he couldn't recognise the man staring back at him from the blade's surface.

Dark lines under heavy eyes, the hair covered in dust, lips stained black from chewing writing utensils, a beard sprouting from his chin and the confused look of a mad man. Sighing Alaric let go of the knife, leaning back in his chair, Letra was right, staying at his desk for the remaining time of the war wouldn't help anyone, least of all himself.

With winter on the horizon the time he had to change things were limited anyway. He looked one last time at the Map he had drawn, every piece of information he had received was painted on to it, every troop movement he knew off in one colour, his suspected targets in another.

His stomach clenched as he looked over his scouts far in the north, on one level with Goldhill but further west than any other band of soldiers in the kingdom. Right behind them were four companies of Goldhill's mercenaries, each of them numbered slightly higher than the band of scouts.

Alaric hoped his messenger would arrive in time for Summer and her men to get to safety before they were completely encircled, Blackriver needed new heroes. Over the last couple of weeks every candidate for a medal had died in combat, leaving only a couple of phony ones the council had chosen at random from the new recruits that looked the part of a hero.

As much as Al disliked the idea he realized that for the rebellion to succeed they needed more recruits and tales of death and despair rarely got the blood pumping like the tale of a heroic battle won against all odds.

"Hello? Al? Are you still with me?" Letra put his hand to Al's forehead, "Are you alright?"

Cursing Alaric took a step back, the boy still confused him with his girly appearance.

"Yes, yes I'm alright, let's get something to eat... and some sleep afterwards." Letra blushed at the last comment, Al rolled his eyes and walked past him, why had everything to be this complicated around the castle.

Not only did the council seem more happy about looted goods than military success, no, the commanders rarely calculated with lifes rather than time and money. Soldiers were nothing but time invested in making them and the money that put the low quality armor on their backs. He remembered the stories he had read about war and heroes back in his home, it seemed ages ago now. All the generals had been of uncanny abilities and heroic self sacrifice to keep their troops alive, he now understood the author must have taken some freedoms concerning their behaviour.

Over one edge or the other the main question underlining anything the council ever asked was, how much it would cost and how much they could expect to gain from it.

Era was the only exception, Alaric saw how the topic of loss and reward disgusted her but she kept her mouth shut and the council happy, without them the rebellion was doomed.

The fact that corrupt men stood at the very top of the rebellion was something Letra had once called The Price of War, Al hadn't even realised his friend knew about what was happening in the ranks of council.

Back then he had promised himself not to underestimate Letra again, the boy was clearly smarter than he acted, perhaps even more so than Al could fathom as of now.