“Are you Prince Ren of Frayne?” the messenger asked, drawing his hood back. He was a man in his forties, wavy black hair shot through with grey framing his face.

“I am,” Ren said. “I understand you have urgent information. Do you wish to come inside?”

Even before Ren was done talking, the messenger shook his head. Niklas came down the steps to join Ren and the two of them exchanged a quick glance. “Who sent you?” Ren asked.

“I can't say,” the messenger said, withdrawing a folded note from his breast pocket. “This is my message.”

Ren stepped closer and accepted the note from the rider and turned it over. No sigil.

The clatter of hooves against stone made him raise his head. The messenger had turned away and galloped out of the fort and across the moat. Slowly, the gate closed again.

“What was that all about?” Niklas asked, gaze lingering on the fort gate.

Ren shook his head. Crossing the courtyard with Niklas trailing behind him, he stopped in the shade of a stone pillar and leaned against the balustrade. Unfolding the note, Ren frowned.

One hundred and ten Skarlan soldiers will arrive at Stag's Run at noon tomorrow.

The note, written in black ink on parchment paper, gave away nothing of the sender besides a small symbol in the bottom right corner.

“Is that a fox?” Niklas asked, leaning over Ren's shoulder to look.

“I think so,” Ren said. He swiped his thumb over the slightly raised stamp.

“Who has a fox as their sigil?”

“No one I know of,” Ren said, folding the note.

“Maybe we shouldn't trust it.”

“It can't hurt to be prepared,” Ren argued, casting a glance out over the empty courtyard. “Go to the commander and tell him I want men stationed in the towers. Say they need to report even the slightest disturbance. I want scouts in the area, too.” It seemed like something King Callun would have done.

* * *

Ren leaned his elbows against the lichen-covered battlement and gazed out over the passage to the North. Only a day ago, their plan had been so clear. Stag's Run had seemed like a beacon of hope and strength. Now, it was all falling apart. Lord Tyke had rejected him, Skarlan soldiers were marching upon Stag's Run at this very moment, and the fort was nowhere near able to defend itself, with too few soldiers, not enough weapons, and a crumbling foundation. How had King Callun let it get to this state?

Ren had grown up thinking of Stag's Run as a glowing symbol of Fraynean pride, the powerful guardian of the gate to their bountiful wealth. The reality was grim by comparison. And it wasn't a recent development, either. Jayce had made that much clear when he had cleaned and bandaged Ren's arm in the dining hall.