“You taught me a great deal, Duncan,” Seavig continued. “Now allow me to teach you. It is not loyalty and devotion that make a man. It is knowing who to be loyal to—and when. Loyalty is not forever. Loyalty must be earned, every moment of every day. If the man I was loyal to yesterday does not earn it today, then that loyalty must be changed—or else that loyalty means nothing. Loyalty is not a birthright. To be the recipient of loyalty is a very sacred thing; and if recipients are unworthy, they must face the consequence. Blind devotion is a crutch. It is passive. And a warrior must never be passive.”

They continued on in silence, Seavig’s words ringing in Duncan’s ears, striking home to his very heart and soul, making him rethink his entire life. They stung him; they provoked him; and while he wished he had never heard them, he also knew that on some level he needed to.

“What will you do once Escalon is free?” Seavig continued, after a long silence. “Shame all the warriors who fight for you, and hand the kingship back to the man who does not deserve it? Or honor those who have honored you, and give them the leader they demand?”

Duncan did not know how to respond. He had been raised by his father to value loyalty above all else; men come and go, but loyalty is for life, he had been told. He had never betrayed those close to him, and had never forgotten a debt. He had also been raised to appreciate his place in life, and to not strive to reach a station that was too great for him.

All of what Seavig was saying went against the very grain of who he was, of what he knew. Yet at the same time, he could see his point: the weak king had let them all down, had hurt their great land, and Duncan knew there was some truth hidden in Seavig’s words, even if at the moment he could not fully process it.

They fell back into silence as they continued around the Lake of Ire, gravel crunching beneath their horses’ feet, the fog still so thick that Duncan could not see his hands. And as they went, his foreboding deepened. He feared no man, yet he did not like to fight what he could not see. He felt something evil in this wind, something coming, and he gripped his sword tighter. He hoped he was not leading his men to slaughter.

Duncan stiffened as he thought he heard a muffled shout. He stopped and stared into the fog, wondering, when suddenly, it came again. One of his men cried out, and this was followed by a thud, as if a man had fallen from his horse.

“Fog walkers!” shrieked Seavig, his voice cutting through the air.