RE: Monarch

I wanted to punch something. Preferably something soulless that wouldn’t crumble after the first strike. Giant serpent, or drake, something reptilian. But as we were in a civilization center, with very few lizards to speak of thanks to the climate, the feeling simmered, growing more palpable as the minutes passed.

A quick stop at the rooms later, I’d applied earthen chalk to my hair and changed back into a set of worn traveler’s clothes. They’d blend much better. My first delve into the district had been a flashy and intentional show of face. There were advantages to that approach—fewer muggings, for one—but gathering information required more subtlety. A single flash of my golden hair and royal trappings would send the most useful sorts running, and place anyone I was meeting with under scrutiny for some time. There were countless eyes in Topside that never wandered, and for this, the longer I could stay out of their purview, the better.

I knew there was only a slim chance Kieran’s missing wife would lead me anywhere. At worst, he’d help paint the picture of the nonhuman side of Whitefall, the issues they were facing and the temperature of the populace at large, get a sense of how my father’s decrees worked in practice.

Maybe we’d find her. But people often went missing in a city this size. Some of the many reasons were nefarious, for certain. Others were as pedestrian as a man or woman who simply tired of family life—sad as it was.

Regardless of the reason, Kieran needed help he wasn’t getting, to the point he was throwing rocks at royals.

Before, I would have handed this off to someone else. Considered it below my station.

But I’d come to realize the truth.

Nothing was below my station. That was the role of a king. Belaying or delegating responsibilities simply because they were small or potentially amounted to little in the grand scheme was folly. If there was a larger threat, and someone who specialized in investigation and information gathering, I might defer to them.

Right now, though, the only person who fit that bill was Thaddeus. Who I trusted about as far as I could throw him.

“Suitably dressed down?” I asked Alten, who looked far more comfortable now that he was clad in a tunic.

“Still looks like there’s gold to your name,” Alten mused, putting a hand to his chin. “But a little less like your daddy gave it to you. Slump the shoulders a bit. And don’t smirk.”

“What? Plenty of people in Topside smirk. It’s just below glaring and leering on the common-expressions-in-Topside list,” I said.

“Things as they are, you could be the son of a wealthy trader looking for an investment opportunity. Now smirk.”

Puzzled, I did as he asked, checking myself in the mirror, and noticed little difference.

“See? Noble in disguise, clear as day. I’m telling you. It’s the smirk,” Alten reiterated.

I adjusted my shoulders and made a mental note not to smirk, irritating as it was. Then threw open my bedroom window, stepping through and out to the other side. After a taking a moment to make sure the ground beneath wasn’t perilously uneven, I dropped thirty span, strengthening my legs as I landed, leaving twin imprints in the grass and mud.

Hells. If I’d had magic in my previous life, I probably would have been out of the castle more than I was in it. This was so much easier.

I created a horizontal aegis, cushioned by wind, and looked up at Alten.

“Your turn.” I used the wind to carry my words to him. “Jump.”

His already wide eyes bugged out further. “Not on your gods damned life. Use rope like a normal person,” he hissed, gripping the windowsill tightly.

Alten wasn’t trying to be loud, but his voice still carried. I looked around, spotting the telltale torchlight of a patrolling guard. The prior night had been different because I’d had Cephur with me, a seasoned ranger, along with a larger group. As reasonable as my father was, I doubted he’d look kindly on me going out into Whitefall more or less on my own.

“Who keeps coils of rope in their room?” I said, still using wind magic to carry my voice.

“People who sneak out at night,” Alten shot back.

The torchlight in the distance loomed, and before I could fully consider leaving Alten behind, he’d climbed out through the window and part of the way down, deftly working his fingertips into gaps in the stone and maintaining a steady decline. I shifted the aegis beneath him, ready to catch him if he fell, but the man was clearly accustomed to climbing and my interference was unnecessary.

Almost as an afterthought, Alten jumped down the last few span and landed next to the aegis. He dubiously placed a foot on it, testing it under his weight. “Springy.”

“Almost like it’s designed to cushion a fall.”

“Who goes there?” The torchlight grew, and a small group of guards emerged around the corner.

Should have just jumped on the damn aegis.

I sighed and withdrew my signet ring from my satchel, holding it aloft so they could see. The guardsman’s eyes narrowed until he finally recognized me. “Ah. The wayward prince.”

“Sorry to disturb your patrol.” I rubbed the back of my neck, giving him a winning smile.

“And where might you be going at this hour?” The guardsman crossed his arm.

“Central Whitefall,” I said quickly. If I deliberated on the story for too long, he’d sense the deceit. “My friend here hasn’t enjoyed the pleasure of an Oteron in quite some time.” I dropped my voice, conspiratorially. “Would have used the front gate, but Thaddeus seems to have taken an interest in my comings and goings.”

The guard grunted acknowledgement. If the castle had a universal rule of thumb, it was that everyone hated Thaddeus, even those on his payroll. The man had his fingers in everything, saw everything, heard everything, and people tend to value privacy and gold on equal standing. “Considered an excursion to the brothels myself, but alas. Purse is a little light.”

I felt Alten stir beside me and held out a hand to stop him. Then, still smiling, loosened my drawstrings and withdrew ten silvers and placed them in the guard’s palm. “Always happy to make a donation to the cause.”

He closed his fist, slivers clinking in his metal glove, and nodded. “To commemorate our friendship, I should probably inform you that the king gave word to let you come and go as you please, regardless of the hour. But if—for example—I wished to hide my movements from a certain piggish spymaster, I’d use the eastern servants’ gate for any late night escapades.”

I nodded and continued on my way, Alten following behind a moment later.

“Though I admit to being somewhat lost,” Alten whispered, looking behind him at the guards who were divvying up the spoils, “it sure feels like we just got robbed.”

“Robbed?” I shook my head. “No. That was simple barter.”

“He won’t tell the spymaster of your movements now?”

I snorted. “I gave him silver, not gold. And shards no less. He’ll probably head straight to his contact and inform him that the prince has left the castle. Upside is, we now know what gate to avoid.”

***

I took a scenic route to our destination, looping several city blocks until I finally spotted the tail. Instead of the brigand sort Thaddeus frequently fell back on, there were two small children dressed in rags. Once we reached Topside and the space between buildings became cramped relative to the number of people, it was easy enough to slip through a crowd and cut through an alley to lose them.

It felt nostalgic. I’d made a game of losing Thaddeus’s unwanted observers in my previous life, and a trace of the old rush lifted my spirits for a moment.

But I’d become somewhat lost in the meantime. Once I realized where we were, I circumvented the street, taking a detour at the next crossroads.

“More orphans?” Alten asked, walking backward.

“Just being safe,” I lied.

“Right.”

In truth, the previous road would have taken us directly to the Rusty Spigot. But not before we passed by a certain apothecary I’d been divinely warned to avoid. And while I still struggled with whether to take Infaris’s advice to heart, I didn’t want to dismiss it entirely. If she warned me, there was a reason. As trivial as it seemed.

When we eventually merged back with the main road, the tavern in question came into view. Two cockeyed lanterns illuminated its sign. Per the bar’s name, the chains that held them looked almost completely eroded and ready to break at the smallest provocation of wind or accumulated snow.

The door groaned under my grip as I opened it. There were more patrons than I’d expected, and it was easy to see why. Despite the decrepit exterior, the interior of the bar was warm and dimly lit, the barreled-tables and enormous fireplace near the back lending it a curated speakeasy vibe. Of the dozen patrons seated around the bar, other than the bartender, there was only a single human—a man deep in his cups, hood obscuring his face. He would have been off-putting anywhere else had the clientele been more lively, but they weren’t.

There were two types of taverns in Topside: the kind where folk went to vent, celebrate and socialize, and the kind where drunkenness itself was the goal.

This was the latter.

And for the moment, at least, Kieran was nowhere to be seen.

I took a seat at the bar, noting the lack of reaction from the barkeep when I sat down. He seemed oddly preoccupied, and frustrated with the not insignificant balancing act of managing a bar this size on his own. A few heads turned as Alten wandered in, but they dismissed him just as quickly as he took a seat at the back.

The bartender dropped a full mug of ale and swore as it splashed everywhere.

“Short-staffed?” I asked.

“Something like that.” He toweled up the ale with irritation, sparing me an errant look. “Gonna be a minute.”

“Take your time.” I waited for him to finish cleaning the mess, then added, “I’m looking for Kieran.”

The barkeep paused, then wiped his hands on his apron. “Whaddya want with him?”

“Supposed to meet him here.” I kept the explanation clipped, but honest. Folk in Topside protected their own. If I was too cagey, he’d assume the worst. “About his wife.”

“He hire you? Gods know he doesn’t have a gold to his name, if that’s the angle.”

The bartender seemed to be a friend of Kieran’s, or at the very least, a protective acquaintance.

“More like I owe him and need to make good,” I said, making it clear I wasn’t looking for compensation.

The barkeep nodded, leaning back as he considered that, then drew a fresh pint of ale from the nearby tap. He placed it in front of me with a thud. “If that’s the case, safe to consider the debt canceled.”

Slowly, ane icy feeling coiled in the base of my spine. The same feeling that gripped me in the sanctum when danger was near. I took a long pull from the mug. The ale tasted like water. “Dead?”

A shadow crossed the bartender’s face. “Will be soon, if he’s not already. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s not exactly been the rational sort, as of late. People been lax, given his circumstances, but he’s been stepping on a lot of toes. Last I heard, he went to Schism. And if he got uppity with them… well. Small wonder he didn’t show up for his shift this afternoon.”

Despite having spent a considerable amount of time in Topside, I’d never heard the name.

“Guessing you wouldn’t be able to tell me about them? Or where to find them?” I tried.

The bartender shook his head. “Can’t help you. Got a wife of my own. If I died, she’d kill me.”

“Understandable.”

I placed a silver rod on the counter and rose from my stool, straightening it absentmindedly as the barkeep pocketed the payment. “Thanks for the ale.”

My thoughts were elsewhere as I exited the tavern. So far I was out a good amount of silver, with little to nothing to show for it other than a bad feeling that I’d never see Kieran again. Problem was, this was more or less a dead end. I could continue looking into Schism—but the criminal organizations common in Topside were notoriously flaky and difficult to pin down. No one overstepped; no one wanted to attract too much attention and take the risk of drawing the king’s ire.

Alten fell into step next to me. “If we’re gonna keep doing shit like this, we really need to work out a nonverbal communication system more robust than you blowing in my ear.”

“Is there a problem?” I asked, still half-absorbed in my thoughts.

Alten kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Could be. Because whatever you said in that bar netted us another tail.”

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