Dinner was the furthest thing from Galier’s mind now. The puzzle of the strange map too was lost as Galier tried to grapple with the things he was hearing.

The monarch had killed Martim? Why? What could house Derran do that could possibly provoke the ire of someone so much more important and powerful. More importantly, was Galier now in danger since he knew?

The others in the room must have seen his shock because Unferth began chuckling from behind Galier and even lord Kalagor’s expression softened.

“I take it that you did not have any knowledge of this before then.” He said. Galier shook his head. He had not been groomed as Martim’s successor, in fact he had been sure that the old man had only kept him in his circles for the sake of proving his dominance over a lesser house.

“Very well. We have much to tell you then.”

At that point, Galier was reminded of the third person in the room. The one that had opened the door. Until then, she had remained behind him in the corner and Galier had been too focused on lord Kalagor to pay her any attention. Now she hissed at lord Kalagor, cutting him off.

“We can’t trust him, Vaeor.” She said in a harsh voice. Galier thought for a moment that he recognized it, but his mind let the thought slip. She had to be someone important to talk to lord Kalagor that way but Galier was not willing to look away from the lord to find out her identity. He was frozen in a familiar trance, his eyes on lord Kalagor, the man who easily held Galier’s life in his hands at that moment. These people were talking treason, there were no two ways about it. If they did not trust Galier, he doubted they would let him leave and there was nothing he could do about it. His fingers itched to draw a sword from his hip that wasn’t there, to defend himself from the attack that was surely coming.

Lord Kalagor nodded to the speaker who still stood out of Galier’s view. He agreed that Galier was not trustworthy but his face was set in a thoughtful frown. Galier felt droplets of sweat forming on his forehead and his stomach began to clench. He should have known better than to let himself get into this situation. The invitation had been suspicious. Why hadn’t he seen it?

Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. Galier thought to himself. He had been so ready to relieve the boredom of his station that he’d grasped at the first clearly unstable thread that could deliver him from it. Now, in a hidden room in the holding of a man with far more power than he and with the knowledge of how to keep his death a secret, Galier was going to die.

For a moment he wondered who would be the one to do it. Would it be Unferth with that axe of his? Perhaps the woman behind him had a dagger he had not noticed. Maybe it would be lord Kalagor himself, he certainly had enough weapons within reach.

Then he caught himself. A noble with the standing of lord Kalagor wouldn’t dirty his hands with Galier’s killing. There were cells no doubt deep in the building where they’d leave him. No one around to hear him scream. They’d deal with his guards quietly and house Derran would fade, quickly but without resistance. He had failed in his duty, as simple as it had been.

Galier licked his lips slowly, his equally dry tongue not really helping things. Lord Kalagor still seemed deep in thought. Perhaps he still had a chance?

The lord waved a hand and Galier felt rough hands grab his wrists, forcing them behind his back while another pair felt against his legs and torso for hidden weapons. That would be the woman who had prompted this. Galier felt a deep growl rising from his throat. He would have gotten out of this if not for her. But there was nothing to be done. He remained stock still, waiting for lord Kalagor to pass the sentence.

But it did not come. Eventually, looking significantly more tired than before, lord Kalagor shook his head. The grip on Galier’s wrists did not lessen but he could tell that the lord was not considering having him killed anymore. His expression softened and he let out a long, weary sigh. When he looked up to meet Galier’s eyes, he wore an expression of a man with all of his options expended. Defeat and little else hid in those eyes now, not even the burning rage Galier had seen.

“With Martim dead, we only have two options left.” Lord Kalagor addressed the people behind Galier, it was as if he was not even there, being forcibly kept in their private conversation. “We need this boy. He might only have a shred of Martim’s authority, but we’ll need it. We need his men. Our only other choice is to stop. Let it all die.”

He raised a hand to forestall the response coming from the woman who still stood out of Galier’s view. She cut off with a sharp exhalation.

“We’ve come too far to stop now. Lost too much.” That raw anger was back in his voice but it was softer, tinged with something else. Sadness? No, that wasn’t right. It was something more…

The lord bowed his head and looked down at his table for a moment, breathing raggedly, then looked up once again, the puffy rims of his eyelids highlighted with unshed tears.

“My own wife is dead, Eliah.” He said, his tone of command was gone, even the anger. He sounded like a child, utterly lost and far from anything familiar. He faltered again, his voice thinning near to sobs. He looked back down to the table where he tapped a finger in a broken rhythm. He trembled with poorly contained tears.

When he spoke again, it was clear he was trying to regain his composure but he failed miserably. His voice was thick with tears, all pretense of propriety gone, whatever channeled anger he had possessed was gone. “You’re right. We probably can’t trust him.” Then he shrugged, the motion at odds with his usual regal bearing. It only made him look even more defeated. “What choice do we have though?”

The woman did not respond. Lord Kalagor had named her Eliah, did he mean Eliah Ealhold? Surely not. She was an ally of house Derran, she wouldn’t move against its seat would she? There was an amount of comradery among the new blood usually. He had thought she was friendly, if not truly a friend but the voice had been familiar to Galier…

He swallowed hard, trying his best not to turn to confirm the identity of the woman who had just advocated for his death.

Lord Kalagor seemed to take the lack of rebuttal as consensus. He nodded and Unferth let go of Galier’s wrists. The grip had not been too strong but Galier’s fingers did tingle as the blood rushed back into them. He rubbed his hands indignantly, hiding as quickly as he could the fear that had suffused him not moments before.

No one really seemed to be paying him any mind however. Lord Kalgor was still studying the wood grain of the table intently and neither Unferth nor Eliah had said a word. In the stillness of the moment, Galier was struck by just how quiet that room was. In the city it was difficult, nearly impossible to escape the clamor of people passing by on the streets or even neighbors bustling around their own homes but here there was silence. True silence. Galier thought he could hear the sizzling of the candles that lit the room. So deep in lord Kalagor’s holding, not a whisper could be heard from outside, not a footstep from a bordering room. They were truly alone, cut off from the rest of the city. Galier felt his throat tensing as he realized that, no matter how loud he might have screamed, not a soul would have been able to hear. He would truly have disappeared without a trace at all.

Both Unferth and Eliah clearly took direction from lord Kalagor for they did not make a peep until he looked up once again from his table, composure regained for the most part. If Galier did not know the signs to look for, he would have appeared entirely at ease. Only the damaged makeup around his eyes gave away that there had been tears there not but a moment ago.

That was the sign Eliah had been looking for it seemed. As soon as she could catch lord Kalagor’s eye, she stepped forward imperiously. Her short march left her standing just at the edge of Galier’s vision. His breath caught in his throat. Even though he could not see her clearly, he recognized her easily enough. The voice should have been enough but he was so shaken he could barely keep himself standing.

Lady Eliah Ealhold managed a commanding air even though she wore clothes hardly any better than those of the pirate. The social hierarchy in Maerin could be difficult to decipher but it was a surprise to see her acting subservient to lord Kalagor at all. She easily held an equally important place in society, if not a more important one. Unlike lord Kalagor about whom rumors always seemed to swirl, lady Ealhold managed to keep her reputation clean. Through subterfuge rather than actual deed, apparently. She was far from the first to come to mind on the topic of treason. But the assassins had been sent after her as well, or her husband at least.

“Then we’d best make use of the boy.” Lady Ealhold said, turning her gaze to Galier once she had driven lord Kalagor into a semblance of submission. Those eyes held no sympathy for Galier. She looked at him like a rat she’d found in her wellwater. She even wrinkled her nose as she gave him a weighing look.

Galier cringed at being made the center of attention again. Lady Ealhold’s eyes bored into him and even though lord Kalagor’s was kinder, the weight of it still made him want to turn and run.

They did not give him much time to think about what it was they said. Plans swirled around him, detailed to the point of confusion and without fail as brash as their goal. They did not give Galier a chance to speak until, when they were done relaying what he needed to know, they stopped and asked him whether he was up to the task. Galier nodded, too overwhelmed to trust his own voice. It was enough for them, luckily.

***

When Galier was allowed to leave, led out the same way he came by Unferth once more, his mind had ground to a halt long since. He wanted to keep track of the path he was led along through the bowels of keep Kalagor but his brain would not spare him the presence to remember. He dully followed Unferth’s footsteps without a word.

After they had made several turns away from the room, Unferth slowed his pace and Galier followed suit without thinking. He let himself follow obediently without thinking. His thoughts were moving at a snail’s pace, their channels burnt out by plans and schemes given to him by lord Kalagor. He’d only been told snippets, he was sure of it, and he only remembered scraps of those. What he could recall was enough to stop him in his tracks and gape at his boldness. But it was not his boldness. It was transplanted from a braver man, he was just a vessel for it.

Galier did not realize that Unferth had slowed further until he stood alongside the shorter man who was looking up at him with a strange expression on his face. It was a face used to the harsh winds and cold of the sea. Marked with leathery lines well before his time, Galier had been right to name him a pirate. His place in the plan was unclear to Galier, likely he had not been told purposefully, but he knew more than Galier did. Didn’t he?

“I know it’s a lot to take in lad. But it’s a good plan and they’re good people.” Unferth said softly, though his voice still carried down the empty corridor, He reached up to grasp Galier’s shoulder. “For nobles anyway.” He added with a chuckle and a meaningful look.

From what Galier could remember, lord Kalagor had said something about setting up a minor house for Unferth as cover. The fact that they could do that so easily and without anyone noticing baffled Galier. The man had no claim to any noble titles, he did not even try to look the part. What baffled Galier more was that the short pirate had probably been at parties that he himself had attended and he hadn’t noticed.

Galier nodded and cracked a forced grin. He certainly wasn't going to argue, not here.

Unferth took his silence for assent and, beckoning for Galier to follow, hurried down the corridor.

Galier was once again left to cross the great hall alone. By now the candles had burned to their deaths and new ones had taken their places, leaving the room brighter, if only marginally so. Unferth gave Galier a reassuring clap on the shoulder as he sent him on his way towards the exit. Galier did not look back.

The guards at the gate once again paid him little mind and Galier sent his own pair back to the manor ahead of him on the chariot. No one was out for him to perform for, not that he was in the mood to anyway. He could use the time to walk in the near-quiet of the city’s streets at night.

There was briskness to the sea breeze that night, enough to dull the sounds of the city that rested rather than slept. Galier could fool himself into thinking that he was alone. Those he passed kept their heads down and did not stop and few lights interrupted the uniform grey of streets and buildings. It was a comforting lack of detail, plush to a mind as weary as his.

Winding his way along semi-familiar streets, Galier tried to think about the things he had just heard. He only tried however because each time he could convince his lethargic mind to begin its course, a deluge of thoughts and plans and fears and more descended upon his feeble essence.

And so it was that, lost in near-thought, Galier found himself at the base of a familiar staircase, gazing up at a cracked door through which a warm, welcoming light shone.

The autumn wind nearly drowned out the crashing waves and swept away the smell of the harbor but the sight was the same. The Captain’s Cat was resplendent in the darkness, a lighthouse beckoning him amongst a sea of dark, hulking warehouses. He hadn’t meant to come here but he could not resist mounting the stairs and plunging himself into the tide of timeliness that awaited him at the door.

The common room was well populated, as it should be at that time of night, and laughing waitstaff weaved through the crowd of patrons, always ready with a friendly smile and a pint of ale. Galier could not help but smile. This was his manor, as modest as it was. This was the seat of his power.

Galier did not dally in the common room long. Out of habit, he gave the crowd a once-over, noticing the guests were becoming a little too intoxicating and noting with a smile that a much better musician had been procured since his absence. Then he wound his way to the stairs around tables and standing patrons, soaking up all of the atmosphere that he had been unknowingly deprived of. When he finally arrived at his room, his mind felt clearer, though no less tired. The neatly made bed called to him and he could not resist its sweet song. He collapsed on the narrow mattress fully clothed, boots and all, and, for what felt like the first time, he slept soundly.