LAND RETURNED THE SOLDIERS’ SALUTE. HE SAW THAT, like the tin soldier Frax had stolen from him, some held arquebuses, the weapons that fired balls of lead.

He could barely speak. “I… I thought everyone had turned; I thought everyone had vowed their loyalty to Villius Ren.”

“Oh, no,” said Jerome. “All of it, the feigned loyalty, everything, is so that the people of Decresian can finally reclaim their kingdom.”

“I… I have no words,” said Oland.

“The livelihoods of almost everyone in Decresian were destroyed,” said Jerome. “The farmers’ lands were taken from them. We were all cast aside. But we wanted to fight, for ourselves, for our wives, for our children. So that is what we did. Yes, the souls screamed from midnight until daybreak every night, but those screams at least drowned out what we were doing: while The Craven Lodge were rampaging across the land, we built underground rooms where we made weapons and trained our men. We started our campaign before you ever received King Micah’s letter. But, from the night you arrived at my door onward, we worked harder and faster than we ever had. And what you see before you is testament to that.”

Oland thought of his life at Castle Derrington. How could he have stayed so long, passing, as he did, from one miserable experience to the next? In the time he’d been away, he had seen a world that, despite the dangers it presented, was an amazing world, and it was a free world, and it was nothing like the only world that he had known.

Jerome took out a map of the castle grounds.

“A cavalry of one thousand will charge the castle from the north,” he said, “while the infantry will move to the east and west of the outer walls. Do you see those wooden towers by the castle walls? Villius Ren thinks they are platforms from which to view the festivities. But they are siege towers and they will allow us to drop bridges to the battlements. The trebuchets will launch their attacks here, at the northern corners of the castle. Our men can enter the outer ward through the breached walls. Chancey the Gold is considering access through the moat.”

“Chancey the Gold is here?” said Oland. “He’s alive?”

“Yes,” said Jerome. “He is.” He paused. “I’m sorry we couldn’t let Delphi know, Oland. But she will, soon.”

Oland nodded. He pointed to the map. “The northeast tower,” he said, “that’s the library… and my room… None of The Craven Lodge will be there. There is no reason to attack that.”

“I’ll see to it that it remains untouched,” said Jerome. “As we speak, Villius Ren, in his dazzling new robes, will be reading the letter that will offer him the chance to surrender.”

Oland turned to him. “I know Villius,” he said. “I know what he’s going to do. He won’t surrender. He’ll find a way to stall things for nine days and nine nights… he will wait for his Fortune of Tens. And, on the tenth day, he will welcome an attack.”

“Ah, he has no supplies,” said Jerome. “He has no sense that this is upon him. Today, his castle was stripped of all food and water right before his eyes – after all, he was hosting an outdoor banquet. His soldiers helped a great deal.”

Oland laughed.

“In fact, some of them may not be feeling too well after the food they ate,” said Jerome. “Our wives made some interesting dishes.” He paused. “So, Oland, Villius Ren and his army will fight today or they can starve to death.”

From above came an inhuman howl. Everyone looked up as Villius Ren charged to the edge of the parapet.

“I am The Great Reign,” he roared. “I am The Great Reign.”

Below, from a trebuchet manned by Malachy Graham’s sons, the corpse of a dead panther was launched, and sent flying over the parapets to land at Villius’ feet.

He jumped over it and disappeared from view.

Within minutes, Villius Ren’s patchwork army began to rush into the grounds from their garrisons. Oland Born rode his horse to the head of the cavalry. He raised his lance and charged towards them.

Everything Oland had taught himself in all his locked-away hours had come to life around him. Here he was, on a battlefield, with the cold air rushing through his lungs and the strength of a loyal army behind him.

And so, as the two groups came together, the battlefield became a fight for survival on one side, and for freedom on the other.

Oland was fuelled by the people’s belief in him, by the Rynishes’, by Roxleigh’s, by Delphi’s. He could never have imagined how all his worlds would collide and that, if they did, how truly spectacular it would feel.