A month later, Cocky arrived in the city of Myr, Garanwyn. He felt claustrophobic among the tall buildings. He strutted out of the carriage.

  Cocky nodded to Kith who had been scouting ahead on the road as unofficial security.

  Kith nodded back. "I'll be right here when you come out." And melted back into the crowd.

  Cocky watched her go, suddenly feeling very small in front of the imposing white palace.

  Two men walked past him in rags arguing. One looked back, but his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood.

  "Are you OK, Your Majesty?" One of the guards that accompanied Cocky asked.

  “Yes, shall we go in?”

  Just then Jorvan’s attendant came out to greet King Cocky.

  "Welcome, Your Majesty." He bowed.

  "Oh, you don't need to bring your guards in with you. You'll be perfectly safe."

  "But I—"

  "Please, Your Majesty, have your guards take the carriage to the stables. I'll have refreshments sent to them. This way."

  The attendant escorted him into the palace. The entrance hall stretched impossibly high, white stone and gold leaf everywhere. Cocky's head spun. Too much. Too big. Too—

  "Right this way, Your Majesty."

  ***

  "That's HIM. That's the ROOSTER who stole my throne!" deposed King Helmut hissed.

  "Where?" Rembrandt started to turn.

  "Don't look! He'll see us!" Helmut grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

  They kept walking, heads down, until they were well past the palace gates.

  "Do you want ME to kill him, so you can get your throne back?" Rembrandt asked, confused.

  "No, no. We'll have to come up with a plan. It can't be traced back to us," Helmut said, spitting as he whispered. "First, we need to find an inn. Do you have any coins left?"

  "Not much. You wanted to eat at that expensive food stall."

  "I'm not eating bad food! Do you know who I am?"

  "Yes, sire. A king without a kingdom... or dinner."

  ***

  Cocky entered the room where a handsome man with a crown sat upon a throne, his silver-gold hair neatly trimmed. Next to him, another chair held a figure so enveloped in beard that Cocky couldn't tell where the man ended and the wild white-grey tangle began.

  "King Cocky." Jorvan stood, arms spread in welcome. "I'm so glad you came. I really am. Please, sit" He gestured vaguely at the empty space before the throne, then sat back down. Valgarr remained seated as well, both men looking down at him.

  "Oh—Valgarr, we don't have seating for His Majesty. How thoughtless of us." Jorvan's smile never wavered. "No matter. I'm sure you don't mind standing. We won't take long."

  Cocky's feathers prickled. "Your Majesty, I appreciate the invitation, but I should clarify—"

  "Of course you do. And you should know, this isn't just courtesy on my part." Jorvan settled back onto his throne, relaxed. Confident. "I've been hearing troubling reports about Eldmere. The winter was harsh. Your people suffered. And while I'm sure you did everything you could—no one doubts your intentions—the simple reality is that sometimes good intentions aren't enough."

  "We managed—"

  "You did. I know you did. And that's admirable, truly." Jorvan leaned forward, his expression earnest. "But here's what concerns me, and believe me, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't care about Eldmere's welfare—you shouldn't have to 'manage.' Your people deserve more than survival. They deserve stability. Prosperity. The kind of support that comes from experience."

  Valgarr's rings clicked softly as he shifted his weight. Those pale eyes watched from within the beard.

  "I have advisors—" Cocky tried.

  "Benjamin, yes. Competent man. Very competent. But one administrator can't rebuild a kingdom alone, can he?" Jorvan's tone was sympathetic. Reasonable. "You need resources. Trade routes. Strong defenses. Everything a kingdom needs to thrive. The kind of established trade networks and diplomatic relationships that take years to build. Garanwyn has all of that. And I'm in a position to share it."

  "That's... generous, but—"

  "It is generous. You're right." Jorvan smiled. "Some might say I'm being too generous. My own advisors warned me—didn't you, Valgarr?"

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  "I suggested His Majesty consider whether Eldmere had earned such... consideration." Valgarr's voice was soft. Almost gentle. His rings hummed as he folded his hands. "But our king has a compassionate heart."

  "I do. I really do." Jorvan spread his hands. "And here's what I see: a young king—very young, if we're being honest—thrust into a role he never asked for. Doing his best in impossible circumstances. That deserves support, not judgment."

  The scent of incense drifted toward Cocky. Sweet. Almost pleasant. It made his head feel fuzzy.

  "People are saying—and these are smart people, people who understand politics—they're saying that Eldmere is at a crossroads. You can struggle along as you have been, hoping the next winter isn't as harsh. Or you can accept help from an ally who wants to see you succeed."

  "What kind of help?" Cocky's voice came out smaller than he intended.

  "Practical help. Trade agreements that benefit both our kingdoms. Military support to secure your borders. Advisors who can help Benjamin shoulder the administrative burden." Jorvan's smile widened. "Just friendly oversight. Nothing invasive. We're not talking about interference—we're talking about partnership."

  "Partnership implies—"

  "Mutual benefit, exactly." Jorvan stood, began pacing. "See, this is why I knew you'd understand. You're practical. Reasonable. Some kings—not you, but some—they'd be too proud to admit they need help. And then what happens? Their kingdoms suffer because of their ego."

  Valgarr spoke again, each word deliberate. "His Majesty of Eldmere strikes me as... wiser than that."

  "He is. I can tell." Jorvan stopped directly in front of Cocky. "So here's what I'm proposing: we formalize an alliance. You get the resources and support Eldmere desperately needs. In return, we establish a small Garanwyn presence in your kingdom—just administrators, really. People who can help Benjamin manage things. Ensure everything runs smoothly."

  Cocky's mind raced. "A presence? You mean—"

  "A partnership. I said that already, didn't I?" Jorvan's tone shifted, just slightly. Still friendly. But firmer. "I'm offering you a solution to every problem you're facing. Food security. Strong foundations. Protection. All you have to do is say yes."

  "And if I need time to consider—"

  "Of course you need time. That's completely reasonable." Jorvan moved back to his throne. "Take a day. Maybe two. But I should be honest with you—and I am being honest, I'm always honest—the longer you wait, the harder it becomes for me to justify this level of generosity to my own people. They'll start asking why I'm helping a kingdom that doesn't want help."

  "I didn't say I don't want—"

  "Good! I'm glad we agree." Jorvan smiled broadly. "Valgarr, didn't I tell you he'd be receptive?"

  "Most... agreeable, Your Majesty."

  Cocky's head spun. Wait. He hadn't agreed to anything. Had he?

  "Now, I know this is a lot to process," Jorvan continued. "And I don't want you to feel pressured. This is your decision. Your kingdom. I'm just offering my help because—well, frankly, what kind of king would I be if I stood by and watched Eldmere struggle? People would say I was heartless. Selfish."

  He paused, as if the thought genuinely pained him.

  "And I'm not heartless. Ask anyone who knows me. They'll tell you—nobody cares more about helping their neighbors than I do. It's just who I am."

  Cocky tried to find his voice. Tried to think through the fog in his head. This wasn't help. This was—what was Benjamin's word? A secret purpose. More like a labyrinth of secret purposes. But Jorvan made it sound so reasonable. So inevitable.

  "Your Majesty, I think there's been a misunderstanding—"

  "No, no. I understand perfectly." Jorvan's smile didn't waver, but something in his eyes hardened. "You're overwhelmed. It's a big decision. I get that. But let me be very clear about something."

  He leaned forward.

  "Eldmere needs Garanwyn. You might not want to admit that—and I respect your pride, I do—but it's the truth. The question isn't whether you need help. The question is whether you're willing to accept it before things get worse."

  "Are you threatening—"

  "Threatening?" Jorvan looked genuinely shocked. "No! No, of course not. I'm trying to help you. That's all I've been doing this entire conversation. Offering friendship. Support. And if you're hearing threats where there are none, well..." He glanced at Valgarr. "Perhaps the stress of kingship is affecting your judgment."

  Valgarr's pale eyes gleamed. "Understandable. Given his... inexperience."

  Cocky's legs shook. This was a trap. Every word was a trap. If he refused, Jorvan would paint him as proud, stubborn, ungrateful. If he agreed, he'd be signing away Eldmere's sovereignty.

  And Jorvan knew it.

  "I need to speak with my advisors," Cocky managed.

  "Benjamin? Of course." Jorvan's smile was patient. "Although by the time you send word and wait for his reply... well, opportunities don't wait forever, do they? And really—what can Benjamin tell you that you don't already know? He's a good administrator, but he's never dealt with matters this... significant. This is a decision for kings."

  "Then I need time—"

  "You have time. I said that. A day. Maybe two." Jorvan stood. "But I'll be honest with you—because I value honesty, I really do—if you leave here without some indication that you're taking this seriously, it sends a message. It tells me, and more importantly it tells Valgarr and my council, that Eldmere isn't interested in friendship. And that would be... disappointing."

  His voice dropped on that last word. Not angry. Just... sad. Hurt, even.

  "I'm trying to help you," Jorvan said quietly. "I hope you can see that."

  Cocky couldn't breathe. The room was too small. The incense too thick. Jorvan's eyes too knowing.

  This man genuinely believed he was being generous. That Eldmere should be grateful.

  And there was no arguing with him. No convincing him otherwise. Jorvan lived in a world where he was always right, always the hero. And what did that mean for Cocky? For Eldmere?

  If he left now—if he refused Jorvan outright—the man would invade anyway. Claim he was "liberating" Eldmere from a stubborn, incompetent king. Benjamin would suffer. The people would suffer.

  "So." Jorvan's smile returned, warm and confident. "Shall we discuss the specifics of our alliance? I have some ideas I think you'll find very fair. Very reasonable. Believe me, nobody makes better alliances than I do."

  Valgarr's rings hummed softly.

  And then Cocky understood.

  A poisoned pawn.

  Benjamin's words echoed in his head: When your opponent offers you something that looks valuable—but taking it puts you in danger. It looks like generosity. It's actually a trap.

  Jorvan was offering Eldmere "help." Taking it meant losing everything. Refusing it meant invasion. Either way, Jorvan won.

  Unless…

  Trapped.

  Cocky's vision blurred at the edges. His heart hammered against his ribs.

  There was only one way out of this.