There was a camp where Lord Rake had taken command. Garten and his group had been lucky enough to find them, seeing as their three-hour time limit had definitely been used up and Bleston's soldiers were probably hunting for them.

"You're alive!" Rake's voice was relieved when their group stumbled across the camp, desperate for rest.

The Jovesons were gathered around a fire, Winslow and Whitbie anxiously talking to each other. They all looked miserable. Helmer had made sure the Jovesons were all present before walking away somewhere.

"Whittle left," Garten said, leaning towards Wilfred. Night had fallen. The camp was still very much alive and busy–Rake wanted to gather as many survivors as possible for falling back to one of his hidden citadels. They were extremely lucky that Bleston didn't know about the citadels Rake and Jupiter had collaborated on.

"Nick Hollow?" Wilfred said, voice coming out raspy, referencing Sween's childhood home.

"Yes," Garten responded, looking at the sleeping forms of the Jovesons. He swallowed. "Were you…there?"

Wilfred pressed his lips together. "Yeah. Bleston tied me up."

Garten felt his stomach drop. Helmer had a similar story, told in a short, clipped tone that left no room for questions. Bleston had tied them up, forced them to watch Jupiter be killed in front of their eyes. But he hadn't. He hadn't been tied, hadn't been targeted, and he watched like a fool as his best friend was murdered.

"Garten?"

"I'm going to sleep." Garten barely heard his own voice. He felt detached from the world.

Wilfred was silent. "Don't blame yourself," he said, as if reading Garten's mind. "No one saw it coming."

Garten's shoulders tensed as he walked away.

They could have stopped it. They could've paid heed to Bleston's threatening note, the ominous words promising vengeance on all who allied themselves to Jupiter. But they didn't, and now the world was crumbling in front of Garten's eyes.

He set down his sword and laid on the cold grass, the stars looming before his eyes-many cold pinpricks of light tens of thousands of miles away. In an attempt to put his anxious mind at ease, Garten began searching the night sky for familiar constellations, the ones he and his brothers ever so studiously memorized when they were younger.

Everything was different now.


Garten often wandered Cloud Mountain, when he finished with his daily training. The Master Hall was one of the more common places he wandered, enjoying the chances of conversation with strangers and acquaintances alike. It took his mind off the more pressing matters that bore down on him.

The hall was packed, everyone watching the calling ceremony of Gloria Folds, who had been accepted by Mrs. Halmond. Garten vaguely remembered Mrs. Halmond's family running a flower shop back in First Warren, one his mother frequented often.

He watched as Pacer blew an ear-splitting note in the horn, effectively silencing the corners of the hall. The workings of the apprentices stopped, and everyone's breathing suddenly felt much louder. The silence was practically deafening.

"Hear me, friends," Mrs. Halmond began, her voice strong, echoing through the giant hall. "I am delighted to present my apprentice, Miss Gloria Folds."

There were some deafening cheers.

"I have come to love this young lady and am delighted to welcome her into my work. She has shown great promise in the gardens, one of the birghtest students I've had since I became garden mistress of our community."

Mrs. Halmond and Gloria exchanged bows, just as Gloria's father spoke up. "We are honoured," he said, "that you have a place for her. You are a credit to our community and a true herald."

"We are so proud of you, Gloria," her mother said. "We couldn't be prouder. You have worked hard, been filled with kindness, and we're glad to see you go to a work you love-a work that serves so many."

Garten smiled. The sheer joy of being accepted into an apprenticeship was infectious, even if it didn't have anything do with him or the other spectators.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his niece and nephew watching the ceremony with intense curiosity and concentration, Emma saying something briefly to Heather. He assumed she was explaining the whole process of the initiation ceremony.

Mrs. Halmond placed her right fist on her heart. "I accept you," she said solemnly.

"I am accepted," Gloria said.

"I bind you, with all honor, to release you better still."

"I am bound," Gloria responded, "by honour and fealty, to serve you."

They bowed to each other again, and applause crashed through the hallway. Soon, it died down and the crowd began shouting well-wishes to the newly initiated Gloria and returning to their crafts.

Garten wound his way through the hallway, making his way back to Hallway Round. On the way, he noticed that Emma and her friends were deeply invested in a conversation with Eefaw Potter, who seemed to be three seconds away from slinging clay at them and his apprentices. Which wouldn't be good-seeing as Garten had been the unfortunate target at one point. It had taken ages for the stain to be removed from the shirt.

"You might want to move a little," he suggested, leaning towards Picket. Picket glanced up at him. "Mr. Potter here tends to throw some clay around."

"Uh, thanks?" It came out as a question.

Heather watched him out of the corner of her eyes, suspicion and curiousity plain on her face.

He smiled and nodded at her, walking away.

I need to tell them at one point.

Garten didn't like being confrontational. He left that for his brothers, whereas he preferred to be the one approached in conversations or arguments. It helped him understand the person talking to him better, in a strange way.

Heather's suspicious why a war hero has approached the two of them twice, he thought, nodding to a few guards as he wandered through the hallways. He glanced back.

"Garten?" Smalls' voice broke Garten out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" Garten said, raising his head. He smiled at Smalls. "Hello, Smalls."

The hidden prince was on his crutches, his foot bandaged from the panic yesterday at Helmer's tree. "Have you talked to Heather and Picket yet?"

Garten stared at Smalls with a deadpan expression. "Does it look like I'm being bombarded by questions by my niece and nephew about my lovely escapades with King Jupiter?"

"No," Smalls said in a joking tone. "So you haven't?"

"I'll figure out when," Garten said, rubbing his arm. "I would like to break it to them easily. Maybe when they get initiated."

"That could be months from now," Smalls pointed out.

"Yeah, but then they might know me better. So it won't be much of a change for them," Garten reasoned. "Also, I'm fairly sure Heather's working overtime trying to figure out why I'm talking to her and her brother of all people."

Smalls raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be inconspicuous?"

"It's probably the fact I look like Wilfred."

"Probably," agreed Smalls. "If I see one of you from a distance, I have to guess which Longtreader brother it is."

"You should be able to recognize me and my sunny disposition on sight," Garten said melodramatically. "It's very recognizable."

"More like nonexistent," Smalls snorted.

The conversation was interrupted by a loud crashing and a shout. The two bucks exchanged glances and quickly walked down the hallway, Garten slowing down so Smalls could keep up on his crutches.

Picket was crouched next to the blastpowder barrel, a spear pointed at him by a scowling guard.

"Hey, hey," Garten said. "What are you doing?"

"Kid was trying to mess with the barrel," snapped the guard. "Sir," he added on an afterthought.

"He's new here," Garten said calmly. "He didn't know."

Picket scowled, already getting back up and on his crutch. Garten realized his other one had been shattered.

"Doesn't matter," the guard said. "It's protocol. He's going to need to be searched and questioned."

Garten resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, I can vouch for the kid. He's not in the best place-"

Picket muttered something under his breath.

"Best place mentally right now," Garten continued like he hadn't heard Picket. "He didn't mean any harm."

The guard hesitated. "Look, Ambassador-"

"Just call me Garten," interrupted Garten, wincing at the title.

"Garten, sir," the soldier said. "If someone catches wind that this kid was found around the blastpowder barrel on my watch, I'm going to get fired."

"I'll make sure you won't," Garten said. "Thank you, soldier."

The soldier glanced uneasily at Picket, nodding towards Garten.

Picket already began his walk down the hallway, scowling. Garten could practically see the storm cloud above his head.

Smalls and Garten glanced at each other, both of them mentally asking the same question. Simultaneously, they caught up to Picket.

"You can leave now," Picket said bitterly as the three of them approached what Garten supposed was his room.

"I'm sorry, Picket," Smalls said, frowning. "Those guards at the door, they're trained to protect the community. They have rules here that might seem a little strange."

There was a long silence.

"Why are you here?" Picket asked towards Garten, eyes dark and angry. "Don't you have some people to save or something?"

"No," Garten said, raising an eyebrow. "Not a lot of people need saving here."

Picket frowned, continuing on his way. A few more minutes of awkward silence, and Picket stopped in front of a door, moving to open it.

"Is this it?" Smalls asked.

Picket nodded briefly.

"Is Heather around?"

Picket shook his head no, opened the door, walked in, and attempted to close it.

Garten winced when Smalls quickly put his injured foot in between the gap to stop the door from closing. "Ouch," Smalls hissed. "Dumb instincts."

Smalls threw a glance at Garten that clearly said leave, I need to talk to him. Garten nodded towards Smalls.

"Maybe I'll see you around, Picket," Garten said to his nephew. "Goodbye."


one step closer to the reveal :D

this was more of a not-proofred filler chapter than anything soooo not my best writing lol