Bogo had only paused long enough to tell the messenger—in a much brusquer tone than he would have used under any other circumstances—to wait outside his office for a response before setting off for the royal suites as quickly as he could go. Before he had the chance to get so much as twenty feet down the corridor, however, he was accosted by a familiar shrill and squeaky voice. "Captain General!" came the voice of the court alchemist Tomas from somewhere around knee-height.

Bogo looked down and saw the diminutive alchemist standing atop the platform created by his box of supplies, being carried at the moment by an otter in the uniform of a City Guard lieutenant. The otter, to her credit, had started chasing after Bogo as quickly as her stubby little legs and almost waddling gait would let her; she was nearly as ungainly on dry land as she would be acrobatic and agile in water and couldn't keep up. With barely a moment's hesitation Bogo simply snatched up Tomas's box and the mouse, not even breaking his stride. "Captain General!" Tomas squeaked, his voice somehow rising even higher in his outrage, "You may be in a hurry but—"

The fat little mouse had barely managed to hold onto the railing built into the box's lid, and he glared up at Bogo indignantly. "Come collect him at the lift to the queen's rooms," Bogo called over his shoulder at the shocked-looking otter, "He and I need to talk first."

If Tomas had been indignant before, he became all but incandescent with rage at Bogo daring to ignore him; he shook one tiny fist and began saying, "How dare you—"

Bogo cut him off, completely unsympathetic to the alchemist's desire to be treated with the appropriate courtesy; it suddenly occurred to him that as a fellow lord he could be as rude as he wanted. The temptation to say exactly how he felt about the pompous alchemist beckoned to Bogo strongly, but he had never been one to let his personal desires overcome his devotion to his duty. "Time is short," Bogo snapped, "I apologize for not following protocol, but every minute counts now. I need you to tell me everything you know."

He had assumed that the alchemist had been coming to him to report what he knew about the mysterious figure that Wilfrido, the self-declared Duke of Quauhxicallis, claimed to have seen. If Tomas had been planning on pestering Bogo about something completely unrelated, the mouse would find how Bogo set him down even more unceremonious than how he had been picked up. When Tomas simply goggled at him, clinging to the railing of his box for balance as Bogo ran as quickly as he could, Bogo tried appealing to his considerable pride. "What you can tell me might mean the safety of the kingdom," Bogo said, and that at least seemed to unstick Tomas's tongue.

"Well," Tomas began, letting go of the railing for a moment to straighten his richly embroidered robes before quickly grabbing for it again, "Alchemy certainly could be used to hide a mammal's face. You see, in the first stage of transmutation, somewhat crudely referred to as 'blackening' by less scholarly—"

Bogo grunted, and Tomas hastily dropped his lecture. "An alchemist could wear a mask and hold it in the first stage of transmutation, yes," he said, "With a hood up and the mask absorbing all light, it would certainly make them look faceless."

"How good of an alchemist would they have to be?" Bogo asked; he found himself thankful that he had never neglected his exercises even once ascending to his current rank, or his progress through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the palace would have been much slower.

"Oh, reasonably skilled, I should say, to be able to do it for several minutes," Tomas said, "Teaching apprentice alchemists to develop the focus needed for lengthy transmutations is never easy. I assume, of course, that this mysterious mammal had external focuses hidden on his or her body; even a master would have difficulty otherwise."

Bogo nodded as he kept running. Although he knew very little about alchemy, he did know that alchemists used fire, wind, dirt, and water as focuses to somehow assist in their transmutations. How or why it worked was not only beyond him, but not particularly interesting; he simply didn't care how alchemy worked so long as it helped develop the profile of the mammal involved.

"And the voice?" Bogo asked.

To his great surprise, Tomas actually laughed, and managed to sound nearly as condescending as ever as he did. "I doubt that was anything more complex than a puppeteer's trick," Tomas said, "Did you never watch a puppet show when you were young?"

There was that familiar condescension he had expected from the alchemist. "No," Bogo said; he had never had the time for anything quite so frivolous.

"It's called a swazzle," Tomas said, all but preening smugly with his own cleverness, "Not much more than a reed and a strip of metal. There's some trick to holding it in your mouth and speaking through it, you see, and I'm sure this weasel was so frightened of the little alchemy trick this mammal did that—"

Tomas's face had wrinkled with distaste as he spoke Wilfrido's species, and his voice somehow managed to be haughtier than usual as he spoke of the mammal daring to be terrified by a disturbing stranger without a face. Bogo felt absolutely no compunction about interrupting yet again; he was sure his impatience shone through as he said, "Yes, his mind did the rest. So it was definitely an alchemist?"

"If the story wasn't entirely made up," Tomas sniffed, obviously miffed at having been interrupted.

Bogo doubted that it was. Considering how jealously alchemists guarded the secrets of their abilities, he doubted Wilfrido had the imagination to come up with something an actual alchemist would consider plausible. Besides, his soldiers had in fact found a platinum piece in Wilfrido's shop; if that wasn't proof that the story was the truth, he didn't know what was. There was only one more question he had for Tomas, and it was one he didn't have much hope of getting an answer to. "Have you heard of an alchemist named Nicholas of the Middle Baronies?" Bogo asked, and for the first time since he had picked up Tomas he had to force the words in between gasps for breath; the palace was too large to easily run through.

Tomas considered the question thoughtfully for a moment, and Bogo prodded him on. "A fox?"

"A fox?" Tomas repeated, skepticism tinging his voice, "It's a sorry truth that predators lack the discipline to master alchemy, Captain General."

"He's registered with the kingdom as an alchemist," Bogo managed to force out.

"A charlatan, then," Tomas sniffed, "Doubtlessly he tricked whoever was administering the exam."

"Completed contracts," Bogo said, using as few words as possible as he did his best to keep up his rapid pace.

Tomas's eyes suddenly widened. "You mean the one who calls himself Nick? He's a scavenger, that's all. He might know the basics—the absolute basics, even the slowest-witted apprentice would outshine him—but he certainly isn't a master alchemist. There have been a few complaints about a fox stealing contracts, but nothing that would take any great skill I can assure you."

Bogo simply grunted. Considering that Tomas had rapidly changed his story the instant he had pointed out that the fox had somehow managed to complete contracts, Bogo had the suspicion that this Nicholas was something of an embarrassment to the proud reputation of the Alchemist Guild. He mentally filed that information away; a fox would have been the right height for the mammal Wilfrido had described, and Bogo supposed that if it was down to a fox who was also an alchemist there couldn't be any besides Nicholas. Tomas seemed to pick up on how Bogo had read him, because he hastily added, "He's a trivial annoyance at best, Captain General. Really, hardly even worth mentioning."

Bogo had, at last, reached the lift that would take him the rest of the way to the royal suites; he had no desire to take the stairs after a sprint that might not have quite done his twenty-year-old self proud but was still better than what most mammals his age could manage. "Thank you," he gasped as he forced the box the alchemist stood on into the surprised paws of one of the guards standing on either side of the lift's door, "Lieutenant here soon."

Bogo managed to last until the lift's doors were closed before he leaned over, hooves on his knees, and sucked in air as quickly as he could.

The ride in the lift was just long enough for Bogo to regain his composure, and when he strode stiffly into the royal suites the queen was mercifully alone. There was no doubt that he would have to tell the other members of the Queen's Council what he had learned, but it was his strong desire to push off that tedious task until after the queen knew. Bogo made his report as efficiently as possible, including what he had just learned from Tomas, and waited as the queen considered the information.

"I am the first to know?" she asked at last.

"Yes, your majesty," Bogo said, "We're the only two in the Inner Baronies who know what the message said."

There was another long silence, the queen getting up from her seat and beginning to pace her study. "What's your opinion of Lieutenant Colonel Diego Cencerro?" she asked suddenly.

"I've met him twice, your majesty, but I did not appoint him to his post."

"Yes, yes, I appointed him as a favor to Lady Cencerro," the queen said, waving her hoof impatiently, "But I asked what your opinion of him was."

Bogo considered the question a moment. "He's been a reliable officer, your majesty. Absolutely by the book, in absolutely everything he does. His reports are concise and clear, and if he had any aspirations of taking my job he had the good grace not to show it."

"You don't like him."

It wasn't a question. "No, your majesty. He's..." Bogo said, but he hesitated, unsure of how to finish the thought.

Despite her earlier and obvious impatience, Queen Lana didn't interject anything, apparently content to let Bogo work it out for himself. "He's not outstanding in any way," Bogo said at last, "He graduated at the top of his class, and he's had an unblemished record ever since. Not so much as a disciplinary action."

"As I recall from when I appointed you as my captain general, you had a few of those yourself," the queen observed dryly, "Why didn't his record didn't strike you as outstanding?"

"The same reason the latest top cadet from the academy doesn't strike me as outstanding, your majesty," Bogo said.

It was a credit to the attention that the queen paid to the state of affairs of the City Guard that her answer was nearly instantaneous. "The rabbit, you mean?"

"Yes," Bogo said, nodding his head, "Both of them excelled at everything the academy teaches and tests cadets on. But neither one of them made so much as a single friend among their fellow cadets."

"Ah," the queen said, "What the academy doesn't teach or test cadets on."

"The academy is supposed to build bonds between the cadets," Bogo said, "Give them mammals who understand their struggles, give them the opportunity to receive help and give it. But neither Diego Cencerro nor Judy Totchli made any such attempts. Perhaps they succeeded on their own merits, but they didn't so much as lift a finger to help their fellows."

"You might be doing them a disservice," the queen said, "From what I've heard, mammals don't always treat students doing better than them with much respect. Ostracizing someone can be a powerful bonding experience for everyone else."

"Perhaps," Bogo allowed, "But in light of what we know, I wonder how coincidental it is that the two of them were in Phoenix at the same time as each other, in the company of the kingdom's one and only fox alchemist."

"If Diego Cencerro is a suspect, then Lady Cencerro is as well," the queen said, and Bogo nodded.

"I don't know how well the two of them get along, but they are family," he said.

"Cousins," the queen said with a sigh, "And I thought I'd trust Alba with my life."

The queen was silent a long moment, and then she spoke again. "Barbarians at the gate," she said, "If we wait until we're absolutely positive that the lieutenant colonel is telling the truth, there's no telling what they might be able to do if the threat is real. And if we act now, we might be sending the City Guard into a trap. Certainly taking Phoenix out of the equation was no simple task, whether it was by barbarians or by Cencerro."

Bogo cleared his throat. "I would disagree, your majesty. It's been centuries since the City Guard has truly fought as an army. We learn the tactics and we practice with the weapons, but no one alive has the practical experience to fight an opposing army. Even the number of mammals who have experienced fighting without torcs is limited to ones who have rotated through Phoenix, and that's largely limited to arresting drunks. If barbarians truly did attack, they might have found Phoenix an easy target."

"An easy target," the queen repeated, but she didn't sound as though she was disagreeing with his assessment.

Any justification Bogo could have given would have sounded particularly weak. Blaming centuries of peace for a lack of preparation against external threats would have just showed off what was increasingly looking like appalling planning. "How do you wish to proceed, your majesty? Shall I assemble your council?" Bogo asked; there didn't seem to be much he could do other than continue plowing ahead.

"My council, which you suspect contains at least one traitor," the queen replied mildly, "Right now I would prefer your judgement, Lord Bogo."

"I recommend that I lead a force to verify and engage the barbarians if necessary. A force large enough to be successful, but not so large as to leave the Inner and Middle Baronies undefended," Bogo said crisply.

It would be a delicate juggling act; considering that three of his prime suspects had volunteered members of the personal guard to serve with the City Guard, he didn't want to leave them near the palace. Alternatively, he didn't want them to be able to ambush the actual City Guard once it was afield and no one could report it. Still, compared to the problems he normally dealt with, it didn't seem insurmountable, although he did wish he could be in two places at once. The idea of leaving the palace gave him a deeply uneasy feeling, but so did the idea of an enemy army burrowing into the Outer Baronies like a swarm of ticks that would become impossible to dislodge.

"You never knew my father, did you Lord Bogo?" the queen asked suddenly, apparently changing the topic.

"No, your majesty."

"Ah," the queen said, nodding her head, "I suppose you wouldn't, although I doubt you would have gotten along with him. When I was, oh, perhaps twelve or thirteen, I attended the doings in court, much as Isabel does now. Once, a particularly proud lord, in the midst of supplicating my father, passed flatulence. He was terribly embarrassed, of course, and fled the chamber immediately. In his humiliation, he banished himself to the Middle Baronies for a full year before daring to show his face in court again. When my father saw this worthy mammal again, do you know what he said?"

"I cannot guess, your majesty."

"He said," the queen began, and a slight smile teased at her mouth, "'Why, Lord Buey, it appears you've drifted back on the wind after ever so long. Please remind me, is there some slight you have caused the throne you wish to clear the air about?'"

"Very amusing, your majesty," Bogo replied, completely deadpan.

"I did say that you likely would not have gotten along with him. I've heard he was different when he still had my mother, but I never had the opportunity to know that version of my father."

Bogo nodded. Despite what some mammals thought, he did have a sense of humor, just not a juvenile one. He had known many mammals in the City Guard who coped with the demands of the job with humor of all sorts, from groan-inducing wordplay to childish jokes to vulgar stories. The queen rarely spoke of either of her parents, both of them long-dead, but he knew that the queen had never known her mother, the ewe having died giving birth. Considering the demands that King Raul XVI had been under, it was perhaps not surprising that he had dealt with circumstances as best he could. And, in turn, Bogo could not guess at the full extent of the impact that her father had held. If King Raul had remarried, would Queen Lana have been so adamantly opposed to doing so herself? It was not a question he would have ever dared to ask, but it was impossible not to wonder. "I wished you to have the measure of him before I tell you this next story," the queen continued.

"When I was very young, no more than five or six, it was rare for me to see much of my father. He was very busy, you see, and many days I did not see him at all. When I did in the summer, when the days were longest, it was not until the sun was about to set that he would leave his royal duties and tend to me. He had a joke he was rather fond of; he would come up to me and say, "'Lenny, I think it's about time for the sun to go down, don't you? Some of our kingdom's good mammals need to sleep and others need to wake. Come, help me pull it from the sky.' He'd make a big production of it, pretending to pull on an invisible rope with all his might, cajoling me to pull harder, and the sun would go down."

There was a pause, and when the queen turned to look at Bogo all traces of a smile had gone from her face. "Saying a thing does not make it true, Lord Bogo. Should someone declare themselves Emperor in my absence, it will not be so without the support of my subjects."

"Your absence, your majesty?" Bogo asked, but there was a sinking feeling in his chest.

He had realized the point that the queen was getting to; she had undermined one of his most persuasive arguments before he could even voice it. "Yes, my absence," Queen Lana said, and brought her hooves together briskly, "It is a rather simple problem. There is no one you trust to lead an army afield to deal with the threat of these 'barbarians,' but there is also no one else you—or I, I must say—trust to protect the princess should you leave to lead the army yourself. Therefore, there is only one solution. The princess and I shall accompany you, as shall all my advisers and their soldiers."

Bogo repressed a sigh. The queen had just undermined his other major argument; if he could not make her stay out of fear of a coup in her absence or in the name of the safety of the princess, he knew he couldn't win. Taking along all of her advisers, who were also his chief suspects, would give them greater opportunities for betrayal outside the familiar protection of the palace but it would also limit the scheming they were capable of if he could break their lines of communication. Having the queen and princess lead the City Guard against what was either an outside threat or a coup already in progress would certainly inspire the common citizens of the kingdom; there was only one more defense that Bogo could raise.

"Your torcs won't function in the Outer Baronies, your majesty," he said, doing his best to make the words as respectful as possible, "An assassin might—"

"Yes, an assassin might have an easier time of it, knowing that they could kill the princess without dying themselves," the queen interrupted, waving one hoof dismissively, "Certainly should they succeed, it would leave less evidence as to how... How the deed was done."

Queen Lana's voice had wavered for a moment, and Bogo knew she had been imagining what it would be like to see her daughter, the mammal who meant more to her than anyone or anything in all the world, dead. "But we cannot give in to fear," the queen continued, and her voice was hard, "No monarch has left the safety of the Middle Baronies since we started using torcs."

She brushed her fingers against her own torc briefly as she spoke. "I think it time for that to change. The kingdom doesn't end at the Middle Wall, and the world doesn't end at the Outer Wall, as much as we might like it to be so. Make the arrangements for our travel."

"As you command, your majesty," Bogo said, bowing.

The queen sighed, and looked out her window over the grounds of the palace. It was subtle, but Bogo thought he could see the signs of how things had started to change since the first assassination attempt. There seemed to be extra wear on the grass from the increased patrols, and the gardeners working the grounds looked jumpy, twitching in the direction of sounds that he was too far away from to hear himself. Whether the queen noticed the same things or not, Bogo could not guess; she was perceptive but she had never served in the City Guard. What he was sure that she could not help but notice, however, were two figures on an isolated strip of ground. One of them was a goat who would have been unremarkable except for the fluid grace with which she wielded a wooden training sword. The other, also with a wooden sword but far more clumsy, had the peculiar and distinctive chimeric build of the princess.

"Perhaps someday we shall need a warrior queen," Queen Lana said quietly, watching the lopsided sparing match, "If my daughter's reign is to be one of war, I thought we had best start her along that path now."

Bogo wished he could say that he was sure that Isabel's reign, when the time eventually came, would be a peaceful one. But even as he thought the words, they had the ashy taste of a lie.

Author's Notes:

Otters really are noticeably less graceful on land than they are in water, so Bogo's perception of the lieutenant isn't solely his biases coming out. Tomas's explanation of alchemy, cut short as it is in parts, does align with what has previously been described in this story; I've consistently shown that when an object is transmuted the first step is for it to become so dark that it seems to absorb all light. Here, at least, Tomas claims that is precisely what is happening.

A swazzle is a key part of performing a Punch and Judy show, a puppet show that goes back hundreds of years. One of the characters, Punch, has a distinctly harsh and raspy voice that is created by the performer using a swazzle. The swazzle itself is, as Tomas describes, essentially just a reed surrounded by two strips of metal. The performer puts the swazzle in their mouth, between their tongue and the roof of their mouth, causing the reed to vibrate and change their voice as they speak. It takes some skill to use a swazzle properly—it's been said that no one really masters their use without swallowing one accidentally at least twice—but it definitely can make a person's voice sound rather unnatural.

The story that Queen Lana tells in this chapter of a lord being so embarrassed about passing gas in front of the monarch that he banished himself from court is inspired by a story from the court of Queen Elizabeth I. The Lord of Oxford broke wind in her presence and was so ashamed of it that he left the court and did not return for seven years, at which point the queen welcomed him back with the words, "My lord, I had forgot the fart."

It's also a nod to this story that it was Lord Buey, as "buey" is the Spanish word for "ox."

As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought if you're so inclined as to leave a comment.