The group went their separate ways shortly after the surprise letter had been delivered. Oliver slipped out of the estate in order to make contact with the city clerks that could be trusted in order to plan how the squad’s availability should be leaked. Lucille secluded herself in the Masserlind private library, scouring books, records and dusty tomes for information on the Unrepentant they believed they were dealing with. She also began sending and receiving several letters from the Sirrithae temple in the city, hoping to secure the discreet services of a Kindler strong enough to banish the Lingering alone. As for the squad themselves, there was little to do but wait. The mornings were filled with training in the central yard, mostly fitness and manoeuvres, although Winslow would sometimes arrive to drill them on the basics of swordplay. Alter wouldn’t describe any of them as possessing any great natural talent for it, but they were getting the hang of it pretty quickly so he had nothing to complain about. The afternoons were mostly free, though Alter made a habit of visiting Kalaton’s temple each day, either by himself or with a couple of his friends. Once there he would sit in one of the pews for an hour or so and wait to see if any of Bertrand’s agents would show up. Occasionally, he would feel the presence of Kalaton skirting the edges of his consciousness, although the deity never drew close enough to cause any discomfort. Finally, their evenings were spent together back in the hall, chatting, laughing and trying to figure out the rules for the hexagonal game board and little wooden pieces that just showed up one day.

  Just under a week later, evidence that the gears were still moving became apparent. Raymond and Winslow were able to extract plenty of useful information from the three men they had captured in and around Yellowood Farm. This included the locations of proposed campsites and staging grounds for Betrand’s forces once they entered the area, as well as a handful of concealed supply depots already stocked with water, food and equipment to be used in the event of a siege. Alter wanted to get out there and either secure or destroy them straight away, but the need for them to be contactable at any time kept them pinned within Jestriff’s walls. Instead, covert teams of the Houseguard slipped over the walls at night, and while Alter was not privy to the results, he couldn’t help but notice the proud looks that bordered on smugness that certain members of the guard wore in the morning.

  Then, as he pushed open the doors to Kalaton’s temple on the seventh day, he noticed something slightly different beyond the ever-changing basket of flowers. At the base of the altar, propped up against the smooth, cold stone, was a plain envelope. Written across the front in neat script, were both his real name, his adopted username, and his given rank.

  “It’s about time he remembered that we exist.” He remarked to Riptide and Whim who had chosen to accompany him this time.

  “Never thought I’d be so happy to receive an invitation to defect. Open it up, let’s see how he's going to woo us.” Riptide clapped his hands once and smiled.

  “If it’s not an invitation to a three Michelin star restaurant then I’m going to start throwing hands.” Whim shook a fist in the direction of the envelope.

  With a couple of deft movements, Alter slipped his combat knife out of its sheath and quickly slashed through the top of the envelope, revealing a single piece of paper within that bore a simple message conveyed in a pair of small paragraphs. Alter rapidly scanned the contents and nodded to himself before placing it in a pocket.

  “It’s not a direct promise of an evening’s wining and dining, but it is what we were waiting for.” He informed them as he turned and began walking towards the door.

  “Oh, come on mate, details, give us the details.” Whim pleaded as he moved alongside him.

  “It’s an open invitation to visit him at his residence, at any time within the next two weeks. All we need to do is present this letter upon arrival and we get an immediate audience with the big man himself.” Alter explained.

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  “He’s not even going to smuggle us out of the city? How cheap.” Riptide laughed.

  “I’m certainly not complaining about that fact. It allows us to decide exactly how and when we make the journey.” Alter smiled patiently.

  “Speaking of journeys, if we’re going to him, how are we supposed to smuggle in this priest that Lucille has been in contact with? We don’t exactly have an extra uniform lying around, and even if we did, they know exactly how many of us there are.” Whim dropped the humour, choosing instead to ask a poignant question.

  “That is indeed a bit of a puzzle.” Alter admitted. “Still, we have a good few days to mull it over.”

  “I guess having him come to us was always too much to ask for.” Riptide muttered as he pulled the doors open, allowing the afternoon sunlight to flood into the space.

  “Progress is progress, I’m sure it won’t be too hard to turn this to our advantage.” Alter reassured them as they moved through the entrance.

  The strength of the sun had been noticeably waning of late, the men still felt the warmth of the big angry ball in the sky but it had lost almost all semblance of its former ferociousness. A cool wind blew from the north, carrying crisp, mountain air from the jagged peaks in the far distance to whip and whistle through the streets and spires of Jestriff. The signs were clear, autumn was coming to a close, and winter waited eagerly in the wings. While the city was cooling down, its inhabitants were actually in improved spirits. There was a certain buzz in the busy streets and the market squares, a sense of anticipation that had been missing for some time. Some members of the squad had speculated that a festival or celebration of some sorts was in the works, but like with so many things considered common knowledge, the truth was awkwardly absent. Nobody wanted to be the one to walk up to a local and ask the most brain-dead obvious question they had ever heard. The trio made their way back to the estate in comfortable silence, moving at a casual pace on the off chance that they were being watched. Returning to Osprey Hall without comment, they didn’t even mention the discovery of the letter until Oliver and Lucille arrived the following morning.

  “I admit, I was starting to worry he wasn’t going to contact you.” Oliver commented as he picked up and read its contents. “He really wants you to go to him, huh? Interesting.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, as you’ve seen, he typically likes to keep a level of separation between himself and his schemes, it makes them much easier to deny. I would’ve put good money on a neutral location somewhere nice and quiet.”

  “I say it’s a sign of his sincerity.” Lucille proposed. “Inviting you into his home, the centre of his operation here? I think he wants to impress upon you how valuable you are. But we’ve had that particular conversation before, so let’s focus on what happens next, shall we?”

  “Absolutely. We had briefly discussed the problem of getting the priest close enough to the man if he’s in the middle of his own house, likely surrounded by armed men. Maybe you two could give some input on that?” Alter presented.

  “Oh, well that’s simple.” Oliver smiled. “Through the front door.”

  There was a moment of silence, the simplicity of his statement causing confused expressions to ripple through the people in the room.

  “I’m sorry, what? After all this talk about subtlety and ambushes, you want us to just beat the door down?” Riptide asked incredulously.

  “Oh no, you’ll already be inside with my uncle in your custody. You can cover our entrance as we follow you in, we’ll trap any hostile forces between us.”

  “Wait, hang on.” Walross held up a hand. “All this time, you’ve been thoroughly insistent that direct violence against Lord Bertand is not the answer because it constitutes a break of the second pillar. Say we follow your strategy, what if something goes wrong and the man slips away? That’d be it, you’ll be strung up as an enemy of the nation by the end of the week.”

  “Well, that’s only if we fail. With all of you on my side, along with Winslow, Raymond, and the others, I consider failure to be impossible.”

  Alter couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself as the others attempted to raise their own arguments against the idea only to be equally rebuffed by the young lord’s optimism. It certainly wasn’t the most elegant plan in the world. But, in key moments such as these, they say that simple is the best.