Larsen hadn’t been in such a good mood since before his brother was named the Guildmaster Thief. Everything was finally back to going his way. The problematic Harvest Guild families were under lock and key, their houses burned to the ground, and the rest of the guild was about to be swept into the Wretched Quarter. His deal to the members of the guild would be welcomed: Join up with the Merchants and you can return to your homes.

The only loose end was one that didn’t matter anymore—the Outlanders. Larsen had just been informed that Karch had returned from his mission. Larsen didn’t care if Karch was successful or not. He was just glad he had returned. His presence would help immensely with managing the relocation efforts.

There was a knock on his office door, and Larsen rose to uncharacteristically meet his Deputy. Why not? He was in a good mood. May as well share the good cheer.

Karch entered, looking his normal grim self. Larsen walked toward him with his hand outstretched. “Why the frown, Karch? While you were gone, I have solved our problems.” Larsen swept his hand toward his couch, a place he had rarely used to meet with Karch. “Come, let us update each other.”

Karch stared at Larsen for a moment, and replied, “Of course, Guildmaster.”

Larsen’s goodwill ended at the couch, and he didn’t offer Karch a glass of the ever-present water on the table. Larsen leaned back. “So how did things go with the Outlanders?”

Karch’s voice was flat and emotionless. “They shot the guards off their horses at the entrance to their city. I would have been captured if it weren’t for Ralan.”

Larsen’s jaw dropped at the mention of Ralan’s name, while Karch’s face was emotionless. Larsen took a breath. He couldn’t show surprise or weakness to his inferiors. Clenching his teeth, he replied, “Tell me.”

“The accursed Outlanders shot my horse out from under me. As their guards approached on foot, Ralan galloped in on his horse, gave me a hand, and pulled me up. I then escaped.”

“You escaped? What about Ralan?” Larsen couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I threw him off the horse.”

Larsen laughed. “Dead at the hands of the Outlanders. Fantastic, Karch. A failure in your first mission turned into success in a second.”

“Ralan is alive,” Karch said, his voice again flat.

“What do you mean?” Larsen’s voice was strained. He hated being made a fool, and his own deputy was now doing just that. “Do not toy with me, Karch!”

“I am not toying with you, Guildmaster.” Karch lowered his head. “I merely have not concluded my story.” As Karch looked up, Larsen nodded his head impatiently. “I was on the road back to Ness when Ralan passed me on a large and fresh horse. I can only imagine that it was given to him by the Outlanders.” Before Larsen could cut in, Karch continued, “I can only assume that he went on his own mission there. There are rumors of Alard being sympathetic to the Outlanders, and perhaps Ralan was going there for help. Whatever reason he was visiting them, he overtook me at the time of their attack. After I threw him off the horse, it appears that the Outlanders welcomed him.”

Larsen squeezed the arms of his chair so tight that not only his knuckles but his fingers also turned white. “So, Ralan has the Outlanders defending him.” The thought outraged him. His own family turned traitor to Ness. Still, it was perhaps a blessing. Larsen took a breath and loosened his hands. “It matters not. Ralan is now an enemy of Ness. We know this and can use it. He is back in the city and can do no more harm via the dangerous help of the Outlanders. So for now, he’s not worth discussing.” Yes. That seems right, Larsen thought.

“It is perhaps wise to keep an eye on him,” Karch noted.

Larsen’s temper rose again. “And how do you suppose we do that, Karch? Do you volunteer to wander into the Wretched Quarter and watch over him? Do you have some network of vile scum that live over there that can tell you? Do you?”

“No, sir,” Karch replied.

“Let me tell you why it doesn’t matter. I have worked with Orion on a new plan. It is perfect because it requires nothing of a guildmaster vote or risky assassinations. All it requires is us to move some people, and then kindly offer them a return. But, here, let me outline it for you. I will need your help.”

Larsen’s good mood returned as he outlined his entire plan, starting with the description that was his new favorite—killing the body of the snake to destroy the head. In this instance, the body would be the Harvest Guild members, and the head would be the soon-to-be-deposed guildmaster, Polo.

As Larsen was outlining how the first night had gone, Karch interrupted him. Not quite believing that Karch had the gall to stop his fantastic overview, Larsen once again gripped his chair. “Sir, you do understand that the Harvest Guild is the largest by far in Ness. Their membership is not just in the Flats and Lower Triangle. They have important families in the Upper Triangle, as well as large numbers of families that live in the Harvest District itself. Not to mention those that live in the Outer Fields and the Mines. Any kind of physical confrontation has a low likelihood of success.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Karch?” Larsen took a few breaths. He was tempted to pull a dagger on Karch for his insubordination, but Karch’s years of service made Larsen keep at least a modicum of control on his temper.

“No, sir. It’s just—”

“Say another word, and you’ll end up in the dungeon.” Karch didn’t move, his face once again devoid of any expression. “This is not a call for civil war, you dolt. We’re imprisoning the troublemakers and the members who no one cares about—those in the Flats and the Lower Triangle. It will be enough to call for Polo’s dismissal and then embrace the Merchant Guild as their brothers.”

Karch stared at Larsen.

“What I need you to do is to oversee the relocation efforts. Get every Harvest Guild member in the Flats and the Lower Triangle to the Wretched Quarter. I don’t care how you get them there, just get them there. Drag them across the bridge if you have to.”

After taking a deep breath, Karch replied, “So I am to oversee the relocation of hundreds of families across the Bridge, and by doing that we will offer ourselves as saviors and welcome them into our guild to bring them home?”

“Exactly.” Larsen didn’t like Karch’s tone and wasn’t quite sure why his deputy—who had served him well for many years—was suddenly hesitant. Perhaps the attack by the Outlanders had scared him. Yes, that must be it, Larsen thought. “Look, Karch. I understand you’ve just survived an attack and a grueling journey. Get with Pattis. He will give you an update on everything and present you with more details. After talking to him you’ll understand.”

Karch bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I will discuss this with Pattis right away.”

“Very good.” Larsen waved Karch toward the door. “You are dismissed.”

He watched as his deputy slowly walked out of his office. For all of Karch’s exhausted confusion, Larsen was glad he was back. While the plan was strong, having Karch executing the details meant it was destined to succeed.