I know

They rested among the trees. Everyone looked exhausted, or maybe frightened. Max and Edric eased Piccaron down between them, still catching their own breath. Carmilla moved to try healing magic.

“His body—“ Carmila’s hands hovered over him. “It’s flooded with mana-poison. This much couldn’t have come from just tonight’s attack.”

Anastasia went quiet, thinking hard.

“Damn it. His body’s rejecting my magic outright.” Carmila coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood mid-spell. She tried forcing a potion down his throat instead, but even that did nothing against wounds this deep.

“Damn it… damn it…!” Carmila’s voice cracked into something close to weeping. She cursed her own ability, driving a fist into the dirt.

Anastasia stayed still, watching him. Piccaron’s chest was a ruin — the lightning had burned clean through. Her gaze caught on the necklace at his throat, and something in her expression deepened further. Refusing to let herself sit with it any longer, she moved to help Carmila instead. A mouthful of blood came up from her own throat as she pushed harder, forcing everything she had into keeping him alive.

You don’t get to die, she told herself.

A thin touch of sunlight against his face pulled Piccaron awake. He tried to sit up, and pain flooded through him instantly. Carmila, only just waking herself, scrambled to help him along with the others.

“Thank you…” His voice came out faint.

“Hennesy. You two clearly know each other. Care to explain?” Max asked.

“Max! He just woke up.” Carmila snapped at him.

“He’s a little suspicious, you know.” Max didn’t back down.

“He’s one of the men who betrayed me…” Piccaron’s answer came weak, unsteady.

“Let’s move. Max, Edric — help him up.” Anastasia’s order was brisk.

“He called you Piccaron. Is that your name?” Carmila asked.

“That’s right. Funny name, isn’t it.” Piccaron managed a small smile. Carmila returned it in kind.

Princess Anastasia stayed quiet the whole way back. She never once asked about the necklace she’d seen around his neck.

Once they reached the war room, Piccaron turned to Anastasia and Carmila with a question.

“How did you two manage to heal me?”

“The princess’s magic is unusual.” Carmila’s voice was still hoarse. “Took everything she had, but it worked.”

Something felt strange to Piccaron — beyond the physical pain still lingering from his wounds, there was a stillness in him he didn’t recognize.

The poison in my body — the one that’s always fed my ability — is it gone? he wondered.

“Carmila. Cast something small for me, would you?” Piccaron asked. She summoned a small point of light, and Piccaron reshaped it into a square without effort.

“Carmila. Your read — is the poison in my body gone completely?”

“Nearly all of it, from what I can tell.” It was Anastasia who answered.

Piccaron turned the thought over carefully. The poison was gone, but his ability remained — and there’d been no pain at all, casting just now.

Is the poison only ever a trigger — something that kickstarts the ability at the start? If it can be neutralized afterward and the ability still holds… without that poison, which also suppresses my mana output… could I actually— He let himself drift into the thought, then caught sight of the map spread across the table, markers scattered over it.

“Based on what we know of Elmar’s troop movements, their forces are spread thin along several of our borders.” Edric studied the pins. “Given the pattern, are they planning to hit Timurr and Marina first?”

Piccaron rose, unsteady, and moved a marker directly onto the capital of Luna Pienna.

“Their target is the capital itself?” Anastasia’s eyes narrowed.

“The Belgram Strategy.” Piccaron’s voice was flat. Baum had run the same play once before — Impala, among others.

“What strategy is that?” Max asked.

The door opened before Piccaron could answer. A man stepped in, carrying himself like nobility — a cloak marking rank across his shoulders. A commander.

The moment his eyes found Piccaron, his sword was already free of its sheath, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

“Hurt already, are you?” the man said, mid-strike.

“Uncle — what are you doing?” Anastasia’s voice cracked with alarm.

“Hello, General Anzio.” Piccaron’s greeting stayed calm despite the blade.

“Hello, Piccaron of Baum Goldenir.” Anzio’s answer landed like a stone dropped into still water. The room went taut with sudden tension.

“Baum Goldenir? A mercenary?” Max’s voice climbed several notches.

“You’re not a former Elmar soldier at all?” Carmila stared at Piccaron.

“Ha ha ha ha—“ Anzio’s laugh cut through the silence. He called for a servant. “Bring me the finest wine we have. An old friend deserves proper hospitality.”

“Don’t look so grim, all of you. Piccaron here’s an old friend of mine.” Anzio’s grin didn’t fade.

No one dared say much in front of the general. The room stayed frozen.

“Lying’s not a good habit, Piccaron.” Anzio settled into a chair. “Ah, by the way — how’s Marauder holding up? Haven’t been able to reach him lately.”

“Baum’s gone. Wiped out entirely.” Piccaron’s voice went flat. “That’s why I’m here. I want revenge. Hennesy did this.”

“What!! Damn it… this isn’t good.” Anzio’s face darkened. “That bastard Hennesy is talented, sure, but not talented enough for something on this scale. Someone else has to be playing a hand in this.”

“Anastasia. I’m asking you — don’t be angry at him.” Anzio’s tone softened, turning to his niece. “This man’s proven himself useful to our side already.”

“I’m not angry.” Anastasia’s voice carried real irritation despite the words. She looked as deceived as everyone else in the room, and it showed.

“Since you’re here now, you can serve as my right hand.” Anzio’s laugh boomed through the room. “Ha ha ha, I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time.”

“Much appreciated, but I won’t be staying long.” Piccaron’s tone stayed easy. “Besides — I belong to Princess Anastasia for now.” Anastasia’s eyes cut toward him at that.

“Suit yourself, then.” Anzio turned his attention to the map on the table

“The Belgram Strategy? That needs serious numbers behind it. Looking at how Elmar’s forces are spread—“ He stopped mid-sentence, catching Piccaron’s small smile.

“So that’s it. Good. Very good, Piccaron.” Anzio nodded, satisfied. “Carry on, all of you. I’ve got other business to attend to. Piccaron — I want to speak with you privately tomorrow morning.”

The room stayed silent long after he left, until Anastasia finally spoke.

“I always suspected you were some kind of spy.” Her voice was cold. “Turns out you’re a mercenary instead. You were shameless enough to use that story at the palace hearing.”

“I’m sorry. Truly.” Piccaron held her gaze. “I never meant any harm to Luna Pienna. Once this business with Elmar is settled, I’ll leave, and I won’t come back.”

Anastasia exhaled, long and slow.

“My uncle knows you. And trusts you.” Her voice steadied. “So do I.”

“Your Highness—“ Max started, then stopped himself.

“Might I request the old maps of the kingdom?” Piccaron asked. Edric pulled an old survey map from the archive and handed it over.

“There it is! Right here!” Piccaron’s excitement broke through, unguarded.

“What is it?” Carmila leaned in.

“The Ghost Market.”

“Oh — so it’s real after all.” Anzio, having just returned from his errand, glanced at the map over Piccaron’s shoulder. “Shame I’ll be gone by tomorrow evening. Take them along, would you.”