It turned out that the western gallery was just as impressive as the eastern one, though for different reasons.

Matt had been reluctant to explore the place, but another broad hint from Tanya had pushed him into it the next day. After all, he didn't want her spreading rumors that he was 'too traumatized to enjoy the place' after the assassination attempt.

Besides, he'd effectively paid for the art, so why shouldn't he take a moment to enjoy it?

While the eastern gallery had been a celebration of the Kingdom as a whole, with the art of both the Clans and the Folk, as well as the beauty of their home, the western one seemed to be running along a different theme. The very first rooms showed some of the oldest statues and artifacts, showing the earliest remnants of the beginning of the Kingdom. Paintings showed the first steps toward building the palace he now lived in, when Redspire was just some unnamed town on the River Crimson; a tapestry showed the first meetings between the High Imps and the Red Moons.

The history of the Kingdom continued to unfold as he walked through the exhibits. He saw Clans rise and fall, saw cities founded and burned. Rulers and monarchs rose and fell as well, sometimes leaving behind fragments of their own personal artifacts, and in each place a depiction of Redspire showed how the city had grown and changed.

In one series of tapestries, the Leaffalls drove the Copperflames out of the Copper Hills, then saw them submit to the rulers in Redspire a generation later. Another painting showed the war between the Red Moons and the Summerhall Gnomes. Still another showed the scouring of the Sortenmoors, and their conquest.

He was already bracing himself for the last part of the gallery. Each event had grown closer and closer to the present; some of the artifacts were looking unsettlingly familiar, especially as he walked through the section detailing the atrocities committed by the Red Sorceress. The statues depicting the shift from an Orc to a Grim Hound had been… memorable.

Then he entered the last part of the gallery, and for a moment, a sense of surprise and horror froze him in place.

The room was much bigger than he'd expected. It almost seemed like Tanya had constructed a small gallery within the larger experience. In the middle of the room was a small replica of the statue that had been placed above the fountain in Victory Plaza. He looked up at his own face with a sinking feeling and then turned his attention to the rest of the room.

It was all there, as much of it as the artists had been able to capture or imagine. A painting—highly stylized and imaginative, of course—showed him striking down the Red Sorceress with fire and iron. He didn't know if the artist could have really understood what a gun was, but they had tried. There was a tapestry showing his raids against the Order of the Griffon; another painting showed his soldiers and those of the Noble Races marching before the battle at Folly's End. Yet another showed the slaughter and horror of the battle itself, with him standing far prouder and braver than he had in reality as the last charge of the enemy failed.

The series continued as he walked. Tapestries, paintings, and even statues showed battle after battle. He relived, through artists' eyes, the Battle of the Seven Princes, saw Teblas' final leap into the trap there, and the shattered devastation of the field afterward. More artwork showed the fights in the Sortenmoors, and a far more recent set showed the absolute chaos of the Battle of the Ridge. A part of him was surprised that his most recent campaign hadn't made an appearance; perhaps Tanya had already arranged for some of it to be created, and he just needed to wait.

A glance at the other side showed a different progression. He could see himself speaking before the Council, accepting the surrenders of the Frost Elves and Noble Races. Paintings showed the face of Redspire changing; he winced as he recognized one that showed the sudden destruction caused by the creation of his first Source and the resulting earthquake. Statues depicted fallen lifeguards and assassination attempts.

Both sides came together above the exit, where a gigantic painting waited. It showed Redspire as he'd never seen it outside of his imagination; the city was golden and renewed, its buildings laid out in order and the people flourishing beyond its walls. Above the image was an inset showing his own coronation, capturing the moment he'd been lifted by his own magic above the throne. Lightning flashed in the windows outside, and power seemed to glow from him while emissaries from subjects and outsiders alike cowered.

Matt stood there, looking up at himself. Had that been what he'd looked like that day? It seemed so long ago, now. Some of the details were right, but how much of it was just as fictional as the city below it?

He was still studying the image as footsteps echoed across the stone behind him. Matt smiled a little; his lifeguards had been clearing each room before he entered. While he didn't expect another attack, they hadn't wanted to risk a repeat of his first visit to the Maiden's House.

Which meant that whoever was joining him now was a familiar face. Hopefully that meant he didn't have to worry about a dagger in the back.

"I'm surprised to see you here. Tanya said you would be, but I thought I would need to give a few more hints."

Matt glanced over at Jessica as she stepped up beside him. "She can be subtle when she wants to be." He shrugged. "Besides, I figured I could use a break before I start the rounds today."

Jessica nodded, her expression a mixture of irritation, anxiety, and fatigue. She seemed both calmer and less hostile than she had been when they last met alone. "You picked a good time for it. Most people tend to visit in the afternoons and evenings."

He nodded, and they both looked back up at the image for a moment. After a long wait, she broke the silence first. "Was it really like that?"

Matt snorted softly to himself. "I was just thinking that myself, to be honest. It's been… a lot." He glanced back at the rest of the room.

She looked at him and let out a huff of air. "I've been realizing that more, recently. Especially after the visit to the Summerlands."

He frowned. "Summerlands?"

Jessica waved away the question with a dismissive gesture. "People are apparently starting to think that Pridelands no longer fits, since the Order of Lion's Roar is gone. I'm not sure if it came from Lucy's side of the river, or ours, but at the very least, I think it fits better."

Matt nodded without comment. He turned and gestured for her to follow him. It was always easier to think while he was moving. "So. You had something you wanted to talk to me about, without talking to me about it."

She nodded as she walked. "At least in front of… some people." A glance at the lifeguards showed her concern, but they seemed to be keeping their distance.

He frowned. "Is there a problem with the Council? Or the Voices?"

"Yes, in a way." Her expression grew serious. "We're starting to hear rumors. Bad ones."

Matt glanced at her. "Are they a threat to you? We were hearing some things about people wanting to convince you to, ah—"

Jessica shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "No, actually. Well, kind of." She looked back at him. "The Low Folk are actually rather approving about your choice of companion. They think that the Maiden of Victory will bring good things to the Kingdom. It's the nobles who don't approve now. I can't count the number of 'well-meaning' aristocrats who have approached me and the others with concerns."

His eyes narrowed. "Just concerns? Nothing more?"

She made that same dismissive gesture. "No assassins or kidnap attempts yet. We've kept lifeguards close, and some of us are already starting to learn how to defend ourselves a little better." Jessica paused for a moment, muttering under her breath. Her movements suddenly became far more fluid and graceful; he recognized the sudden effect of a spell, though he wasn't sure which one it was.

Matt glanced at the lifeguards, who had shifted slightly. They relaxed back into position as he looked back at Jessica. "So your magic studies have continued well."

With a nod, Jessica's movements went back to normal. "They have, though none of us can seem to catch up to Tanya. She's still way out ahead of the rest of us on magic at least. All focused on offense, of course." A slightly competitive light glowed in her eyes for a moment. "If any of us get inside her range though…"

Then she seemed to catch herself, and she shook her head. "That's not what I'm worried about, though. Not really. The threats to us are a lot less serious than what I'm hearing."

Curious, Matt gestured for her to continue. She paused long enough to take a calming breath. "The Low Folk are talking about the Counselor."

Matt blinked. He stopped beside a picture showing the earthquake in Redspire, carefully making sure they were far enough away from any of the lifeguards to avoid eavesdropping. "Isn't that what I was asking you about? After all, the prediction about my Consort came from him."

"They aren't talking about that one as much." Jessica looked at him, ignoring the painting entirely. "They're talking about the new ones."

His breath caught as the implications went home. He had to force himself not to curse, out loud at least. Keeping his voice neutral was… difficult. "New ones?"

She seemed to recognize the struggle in that too-bland question. "Yeah, new ones." After a careful glance around, she looked back up at the painting. A flash of disapproval crossed her expression before it vanished again. "Apparently, the Counselor has been visiting some Low Folk and trying to influence them. A similar prediction has been repeated multiple times."

It was something he'd worried about when the Counselor nonsense had started up at first. Someone was usurping the lie in order to push their own agenda. "Let me guess. I'm leading the Kingdom to disaster by freeing the serfs and consorting with Lucy."

Jessica snorted. "No. Far from it." She looked up at the painting again, a crooked smile on her lips. "You're apparently going to join with her, and then bring about the downfall of the aristocracy here. You'll pull down every noble House and burn the High Clans to ash. Then the Low Folk will rise and become the true masters of the world under your rule. Anyone who opposes it is an enemy of the Kingdom to be destroyed, whether by your hand or the people's."

Matt's eyes went a bit wide. He turned from the painting and grabbed Jessica's arm. "You're serious."

She looked at him with an expression of utter sincerity. "Yeah. Word for word, several times."

He did curse, then, though he kept it quiet and under his breath. Letting go of her, he turned back to the painting and clenched his hands. No wonder Cholia had looked so satisfied lately. It explained quite a bit of the nobles' concerns about the Maiden of Victory as well. "How far has it spread? Can we keep it from leaving Redspire?"

Jessica shook her head. "You don't understand. It came into Redspire, from the outside." Matt cursed again, and she paused long enough for him to finish swearing under his breath. "From what I can tell, it seems like it's coming from the west, but it's hard to say whether that means the Broken Hills or the Red Plains. It's already spreading like wildfire through the Darkwoods and the High Peaks, though."

"Which means we already can't stop it." He felt a brief sense of helplessness. If there was one rumor that was calculated to set his people against each other, it was that one. The nobility was already afraid thanks to Lucy's Revolution; their resistance to the Angru Declaration was only going to get worse, now. By contrast, the people most loyal to Matt—the freeholders, and any serfs hopeful of escaping their servitude—were suddenly going to be unpredictable threats to the Kingdom's stability. It was as if his enemies had used nothing more than whispers to transform half the Kingdom into a powder keg, just waiting for a spark to ignite.

She was peering at him as he thought over the possibilities, and her voice was soft when she spoke again. "You know they would be on your side, right? If they did rise up?"

He looked at her, letting a little bitterness enter his voice. "Just because someone claims they kill for you doesn't mean they are on your side, Jessica." Matt looked back up at the painting, remembering the earthquake he'd unleashed by accident. Had he done something worse to the entire Kingdom? "Revolutions have a tendency to get out of hand quickly. If there is an uprising now, when we are still struggling to finish off our enemies…"

Matt lapsed into silence, still trying to find a solution that didn't involve burning down half his Kingdom. She watched him for a moment, letting him stew in silence.

Then she shrugged. "Well, at least you know." She tried a forced smile. "Did you like the song, at least?"

He blinked at the non sequitur. "What?"

"The anthem." Jessica frowned. "Oh, come on. I worked hard on it."

Understanding dawned. "Was that what they were singing on the way in? I, uh, couldn't make a lot of it out."

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She grimaced. "We are still spreading it through the city. I had hoped it would help keep things together." Then she grinned. "Maybe enough to change me from the Maiden of the People to the Maiden of Song?"

"Maybe." He smiled, and they started to walk together back towards the exit to the gallery. His lifeguards followed, getting closer. "Thank you for your help, Jessica."

Her expression grew more serious. "You're welcome. I'm doing my best, but I'm nowhere near as good at this as Gorfeld was, and it seems like…"

He shook his head. "We'll get through it. We always have." Matt looked up at the final painting. What would he have to do to make sure the shining city was the end result of his efforts, and not the one broken and crumbling? "We always will."

Matt watched the soldiers drill in the courtyard of the New Arsenal, and tried not to feel a slow burn of pride run through him.

Melren and Morteth had supplied him with the details of the new banners, but they had somewhat undersold what exactly they were building in the depths of the New Arsenal. Matt hadn't entirely understood the transformation himself until he'd come to see it in person. Hopefully, the Council wouldn't realize what was happening either, until it was far too late to stop them.

The Irregulars—and much of the Kingdom's military up this point—had always been fairly tribal organizations. Greenriver Orcs fought alongside Greenriver Orcs, Goldplain Imps fought with Goldplain Imps and so on. Nobles weren't any better; the differences between Hard Scythe Westguards and Red Moon Red Guards might not be much, but the division was still strictly kept. Various banners might work together on the battlefield, but that was the limit of their cooperation.

Only the Crown Guard had been different. There were still some barriers; an Imp wouldn't be in the Warg Riders or Orcish Spears, but the Footmen didn't care which brand of Low Folk Imp you were, just that you could hold a crossbow. Perhaps it had been due to the long-term nature of the Crown Guard, as well as their loyalty to the monarch rather than their own clans, but they had somehow escaped much of the separation maintained by their superiors in the nobility. Even if the member of a High Clan was a serf or a freeholder, they still never mixed.

Now, though, things were changing. He watched as a Greenriver sergeant was barking out orders to a mix of Hard Scythes and Coldhearths, guiding them through a drill together. In another spot, a Red Moon was sparring with a Leaffall. High Imps were learning some aspect of their weaponry from a nervous-looking Ashpeak, while Blackleafs were caring for Wargs alongside Copperflames. There were even Wizards, Knights, Elves, and Gnomes in the mix, something that still shocked him, even if their numbers were few.

Yet here they were, drilling together, studying mantras together, and practicing spells together. A small cross section of the entire Kingdom was here, right here, forging themselves into a brand-new war machine. Morteth had not mentioned a specific name for the thing yet, but Melren had called it what the new recruits had all taken to labelling it: the Steel Legion.

"This is all your damn fault you know." Matt turned to look at where Snolt was sulking nearby, and the Captain grunted. "Sire."

Matt had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "I'm sorry to have betrayed you so deeply, Captain."

Snolt heaved another overwrought sigh. "You see, that's exactly what I'm talking about. I might not even be a Captain anymore, sire." He shook his head. "I'm supposed to be in charge of an entire Cohort! That's four whole banners. I have Elves to worry about now. With Goblins or Imps riding along with them! What am I supposed to do with that?"

The urge to laugh was getting worse, but he forced himself to shove it down. "Would a new title help? I think in my world the next highest would have been something like major or colonel. Or general?"

"None of those sound right." Snolt shook his head. "Why can't things just be normal again?"

Matt smiled at last. "How about First Captain, then? At least for now."

Snolt grimaced. His jaw worked like he was trying to get through a piece of gristle. Then he nodded. "For now, then." He still seemed unhappy about the situation, and Matt turned back towards the courtyard before Snolt could catch him grinning even wider.

"So, you'll be in charge of the Cavalry Cohort, huh?"

The Goblin nodded glumly. "Apparently, I'm the most experienced cavalry Captain left? I don't understand it." He sighed. "At least they're bringing Gwelfed back to lead the Scout banner. She'll at least keep that group in line. I'm more worried about the rest of them. They'll practically be raw recruits!"

Matt tried to sound conciliatory. "Not all of them. True, most of them used to be foot soldiers, but still…"

Snolt snorted derisively and went back to muttering under his breath. Matt turned his attention back to the rest of the troops. Of the five cohorts that made up the Legion, Melred had planned for three of them to be infantry, or Field cohorts. Each of those would have a heavy infantry banner with heavy armor and long weapons, a pair of 'mixed' banners that combined regular infantry with archers or other ranged troops, and a single skirmish banner meant to guard the flanks, scout, and well, skirmish.

The other two cohorts were a Cavalry cohort led by the still muttering Snolt and a Siege cohort, meant to provide heavy ranged support to the others. That cohort was apparently now under the command of former-Captain Curalesh, who'd been dragged away from the Hill Guard practically by force. Many of those troops were already working with tradesmen throughout the city to build siege machinery, as well as practicing the types of magic that could reduce fortifications to rubble.

All told, he was looking at a force that could easily outmatch anything he'd faced in the field. They were better organized, better led, and from the sounds of things, much more highly trained. Though they still had quite a way to go, an opinion one yelling sergeant appeared to share.

He looked back at Snolt. "Are you all learning enough? Melren said you'd be ready for a fight by the end of summer."

Snolt muttered one last cure under his breath. "We'd better be. Do you have any idea what they have us doing here?" Matt shrugged, and the Goblin kept talking. "First off, they broke all our Sources. Even the ones the High Clan recruits had! Some of us worked hard on those, but no, they want us all to have the same ones."

Matt nodded. Melren had stressed the need for the change, but it had probably rubbed some of the freeholders the wrong way to be forced to do it. "At least they are helping you build new ones."

"If we survive to use them!" Snolt shook his head. "Every day, they have us up with the sun and doing some form of drills. Morteth has us sparring, marching, maneuvering out in the fields. If it isn't that, then Melren has us practicing mantras for hours and hours and hours. By the time we eat lunch, we're barely able to think or move, and then they have us do more after! And after dinner, we have even more waiting for us!"

Matt felt his lips twitch. "So you're not bored?"

Snolt's expression softened. "We don't have time to be, sire." He looked back at the courtyard, and his eyes showed a grudging approval as he watched the troops train. "I've learned more magic in the past few days than I ever have before. And the way we're learning to move…"

He'd heard enough. Matt turned and clapped Snolt on the shoulder. "You're doing good work, First Captain. I look forward to seeing what you can all do."

Snolt saluted. "We won't let you down, sire. Even if this is ridiculous."

Matt chuckled to himself as he headed back out into the street. The Council was meeting again soon, but at least he'd be able to weather their paranoid bickering with a vision of the future in his mind. All they needed was time.

About a week after his arrival in Redspire, Matt looked up at a knock on his door.

Things had been going well so far. Aside from the continued bickering in the Council, his construction projects were going extremely well. Every day, it looked like the newest wing of the Maiden's House grew closer to completion, and the housing blocks across the street were rising higher every time he looked. The ones that were already complete had been filled immediately by every freeholder that could purchase a place; the store space on the ground floors was already being filled by a variety of merchants, and from what Jessica was saying, the rest of the city was already looking for the next four blocks to finish with rabid anticipation.

Reports were coming in from all over the Kingdom, showing that his people were recovering. There were construction projects happening in Summerhall and Harvesthold; Ashpeak's nobility had begun a restoration of some of the crumbling portions of their city. Winterfast, the Sortenmoors, and the Copper Hills appeared to be recovering slowly from the devastation wrought on them, and while the Blackleafs hadn't managed to select their new leader, at least they hadn't made the mistake that Matt had warned against—so far at least.

The Steel Legion was taking shape at an even quicker pace than Melren had projected; despite continued muttering and resentment from the nobles, Matt was quickly starting to look forward to his next campaign against the remnants of the Alliance. If the Wizards were going to continue to fight, they were going to have a hard time once his new army was ready.

If it weren't for the headache still pulsing through his head, Matt would have said that everything was going well. It was still there, though, on the edges of his attention, so it was with some trepidation that he looked up to see Balred stepping through the door.

The Leaffall Orc looked a little regretful, a fact that made Matt sit up a bit straighter in his chair. He self-consciously looked at the other lifeguards and then back at Matt. "My liege, may I speak with you a moment?"

Matt nodded, feeling a mixture of dread and concern congeal in his guts. "Absolutely, Balred. Sit down, please." He gestured for the other lifeguards to leave, which they did after a minute hesitation. As the door closed and Balred sat, Matt looked back at him with a crooked grin. "I have a feeling that I know what this is about."

Balred hesitated. Then he met Matt's eyes, his expression resolute. "I've come to ask to be released of my duties, my liege."

It was what he'd expected, but Matt still sighed. "You've decided to lead the Clan, then?"

The Orc nodded. "I have, my liege. I believe it will be the best way to help the Kingdom, and my people as well." He smiled, with only a hint of uncertainty coming through. "Unless you disagree, of course."

Matt shook his head. "No, I think you will do your best as the Clan's leader. They need someone like you." Then he grimaced. "I'm just sorry I wasn't able to give you many of those lessons I promised."

Balred smiled at him. "After the past few weeks, I believe I've seen more than enough to learn from, my liege."

He snorted. It was true enough, given that he'd been present for negotiations, debates, assassination attempts, and more. In fact, it was more surprising the Orc even still wanted the job; he doubted it was going to be any less difficult just because he was leading a smaller group of people.

With another shake of his head, Matt stood and came around his desk. He extended his hand as Balred stood. "Well, I won't say we won't miss you. You've been a loyal warrior and a valued friend, but our loss is the Copper Hills' gain. You'll do well."

Balred shook Matt's hand warmly. "Thank you, my liege."

Matt leaned in slightly, his voice low. "If you need anything…"

"I will not hesitate to ask, my liege." Balred's smile showed only a hint of nervousness. Then he let go of Matt's hand and stepped back. A formality entered his stance, and he saluted. "May Fortune favor you, and the Kingdom, my liege."

Matt returned the salute, trying not to feel an echo of Snolt's disgruntlement. It really didn't seem fair to get your best investments poached like this. "May the Leaffalls appreciate the gift the Kingdom is giving them, Lord Balred, and may Fortune go with you."

The Orc hesitated for just a moment. Then he smiled, nodded, and headed for the door. Matt watched him step through it—there was a moment of farewell from the other lifeguards before they stepped back into the room—and sighed.

Another problem handled by another sacrifice. At least no one was going to poach any more of his trusted lifeguards and advisors. Hopefully.

"And then the lady from Summerhall complained that we were investing too much in Redspire, and not enough in the rest of the Kingdom, especially since we have 'so much money available' now." Matt shook his head, remembering that moment clearly enough. "It's like they want me to borrow money from them, spend it on their pet projects, and then pay them interest on the money I borrowed! As if they haven't benefitted enough from the trade flowing through their territory."

Matt sat next to Gorfeld's bed, which was located in a small room in the palace. A pair of lifeguards had been stationed inside with the Imp, but Matt had sent them outside so he could vent for a moment. He tried to console himself with the fact that he would have vented to the steward anyway, so it was not just ranting to a captive audience. He'd been telling himself that for the past two weeks, every day when he visited.

Gorfeld looked far too calm and still in his bed. The healers had been able to keep the Imp alive, feeding him and attempting to restore him with magic, but they hadn't been able to bring him back to consciousness.

His absence was already being felt. Everything in the castle just felt off without Gorfeld's guiding influence. The servants seemed more uncertain and less dutiful. His lifeguards were far more paranoid; word had filtered down of several near misses involving poison or imposters that nearly infiltrated the palace. It didn't help that Balred had left five days ago, riding a bicorn back to the Copper Hills. Even Matt's flow of information seemed less efficient, for all that Jessica and the others were trying to make up for the lack.

He settled back into his chair and looked at Gorfeld again, searching for any sign the man was hearing him. There was nothing he could detect. Matt sighed. "You really are taking this extended vacation far too far, you know. Things are turning around, but I don't want anyone to think it is because you were in the way. You worked hard for this. You should be here to see it happen."

There was a knock at the door, and Matt looked up. His eyes narrowed slightly; he'd left word with the lifeguards to turn anyone away unless it was important. "Come in."

The door opened a crack, and Riley stuck her head into the room. She looked worried, even as her eyes moved from him to Gorfeld. "I didn't mean to…"

Matt stood and moved the chair over for her. "Come in, Riley. It's fine." She stepped into the room, and Matt moved over a second chair from the wall. "Did you come to visit him or…"

Riley closed the door and went to sit on the chair. She moved as if she were a bird trying to find somewhere safe to land. "I wanted to speak to you."

He looked at her curiously. A small amount of anticipation ran through him. "Did you find something that could help? A way to restore my Sources?"

She winced. "I'm still working on that. Dysyani says that I still need to build at least one more Source before I can master the spell. Apparently, it is… complicated."

Matt nodded, trying to restrain his disappointment. "I'm sorry to hear that. Thank you for still trying, though. It means a lot."

The Maiden of Books brightened. "Oh, it's no trouble at all! I'd probably want to learn this kind of stuff, anyway. I mean, everything I'm learning from Dysyani and the others, I wish I could just take them all home with me."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Probably not the best idea. The last visitors apparently didn't do very well."

"The last ones we know about." She leaned forward eagerly. "I'm starting to think that there might be a bit more crossover with this place and other worlds than we've thought."

Matt blinked. "How so?"

Riley opened her mouth and then hesitated. She lowered her voice, glancing at the door. "I'm starting to suspect that none of the people here are from here. Originally, I mean."

He sat up in surprise. "What are you talking about? You're saying they are all from Earth?"

"No, probably not Earth." She tilted her head. "Though I wonder about the Knights and Wizards. Still, either way, I think that most of the people here are not native. There're too many things that seem off, and Dysyani keeps hinting at stories that she hasn't told me yet…"

Matt felt a bit of amusement tug at his lips. He relaxed a little in his chair. "So you can't prove it so far."

Riley shook her head. "Not yet, but I'm going to keep trying." Then she paused and looked at Gorfeld. "But I do think that I've found a little of the magic that he used to use."

He glanced at the fallen steward. "Really?"

"It involves Air and Summer and Soul, if I have it right. Lots of movement and detection and communication." She heaved a short sigh. "It's going to be a bit hard to master it before summer ends, but I'm going to give it a try. Then maybe I can start working on getting us back home."

The prospect of returning to Earth, even for a little while, seemed like a faint memory at this point. Matt still nodded and smiled. "Let me know if you find anything. The sooner we can get you all home, the safer you'll be."

Riley looked at him, her eyes suddenly narrow. "The safer we'll be? Are you not coming with us?"

Matt opened his mouth to answer, only to pause as a knock sounded on the door again. He looked at Riley and then cautiously picked up the mace that he'd left lying against Gorfeld's bed. "Come in."

The lifeguards opened the door, and Matt relaxed slightly as he recognized one of the palace messengers standing on the other side. He started to invite the Goblin in, but he paused when he registered how pale and drawn her face was. She glanced at the guards and stepped forward. "Sire, I have news."

He felt a tremor of worry run through him. "What has happened?"

"An uprising, sire." She shook her head, seemingly stunned. "The serfs in the Red Plains are rebelling. And-and they're burning Heartlight."

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