From a historian's point of view, the last week's events would probably be memorable and many students would have to write boring essays on the follies the government had made. King Willium didn't care. The way he saw it he was very lucky right now to have a throne, let alone sit on it. Reports from Colnic said that the Arthian Army was having heavy casualities because of the Independents hit and run tactics, but in any major battles that occurred the Arthians had slaughtered the enemy.

Major problems were appearing though. Several ambitious Colnic lords had taken the opportunity to establish their own kingdoms. The Independents were fighting amongst themselves, which might turn out to be interesting if it weren't for all the civilians caught in the struggle. The Independents still dealed in the slave trade and prisoners would be many and survivors few. What had passed for an economy in Colnic before no longer existed. A complete and utter colapse.

And yet Arthian went virtually unscathed. With several exceptions. Mass assassinations, death rate quadrupling, although it had steeped off now that Nevada was in charge, the explosion down on the docks, Princess Kelly abducted, several massacres and most lately, the Minister of Criminal Affairs had commited suicide. Yet the world went on, and the confusion only added to the normal confusion found every Summerfest.

And now this. He set down the invitation, his face crinkling as he thought. Unable to come to a conclusion, he decided to read it over again.

	Greetings Your Royal Majesty King Willium:
		You are invited to attend a special meeting tonight at midnight in Rosepark 
on the corner of Park Boulevard and Londun Road.  When there you will join a select group of 
leaders to discuss certain matters.  You must come alone but may wear as many weapons as you'd 
like.  Thank you.

							Nevada.

He set the invitation down on his desk and thought about it. The first part that he didn't like was that it smelled of a trap, the second part was that it just plain looked like a trap. The parchment was very fine and he had only once before seen such fine parchment and that was at the Independent Ambassy.

On the other hand, if he didn't go he wouldn't find out for sure where the letter came from. He had never seen Cherten parchment but their techniques could not be so different from the Independents. To tell anyone among his staff about the invitation would put himself in jeopardy in the event one of them was a spy, but to not was just the same. He did however have other resources he could call upon.

Standing up, he went to the door and called to his secretary. "Send for Prince Nebonex, Lord-General Gisoni, and Lieutentant-General Pollex. Tell them to come armed. Send for Gith also."

"Interesting," commented Nebonex, studying the invitation and handing it to Pollex. "Cherte's style of writing letters normally starts with an introduction of who the writer is, the rank especially. Very interesting. What do you think, Pollex?"

The lieutentant-general studied the letter and read over it again. "I find it interesting that Rosepark is right beside the Doxon Estate. Which suggests a connection. I suggest that the best thing would be to send a message to a Lady Olivia who's currently staying with Lord Osmond as a guest and ask her if it would be proper to bring old Gith. If she did send it she will say that it wasn't necessary, but if she didn't she would immediately want to know where you were planning on going. Any questions?"

The old painter grinned keenly. "Several. For starters, why did you say me?" Gith asked, his grin crooked. He crossed his arms.

"Position Gith. You are the unofficial advisor of the King which grants you a bit of status, yet you aren't in any way a warrior and could pose no threat."

"On the other hand I am pretty much the foster father of Wynic Doxon and the assassin tends to throw a lot of weight around. Being right beside his Estate would emphasize that," Gith frowned and glanced at Willium. "That is not to say your idea is not without merit, simply that there might be a misunderstanding. What you could say however is simply this: Is this a trap?" He smiled ironically. "Again if she did send it she will say no and if she didn't, well, she'll demand to know what's the meaning of this. In which case, your majesty, I am offering my services and will deliver the message myself. Any objections?"

Everyone knew Gith could be blunt and to the point at times, and his point was obvious. Politicians got too subtle sometimes. But hey! Nobody's perfect!

Osmond frowned and sent a worried look at Olivia who appeared deep in thought. Old Gith sat beside the lady on the sofa in one of the estates many parlours, looking frail and somewhat out of place amongst all this wealth. But then Gith always seemed out of place in those paint stained overalls. "Would you like me to repeat the message?" Gith asked abruptly, studying the woman intently.

Nevada looked up, seeing Gith's wise eyes seeming to pierce through her skin and glimpse at her soul. She didn't like what was in there any more than Gith probably did if he knew. Or perhaps he did know? Knew that she couldn't decide. She truly had nothing to do with this trap, which meant Independents, but the other half of her told her that she had allies in the Independent City of Pearl, especially the Intelligence Bureau. Though they would never find out that she was the one that betrayed them, it meant that she was taking over Athex, and abandoning Cherte and all her contacts. Abandon is such a harsh word.

She glanced at Osmond and he smiled reassurringly. Nevada looked up at Gith. "It's the Independents," she said firmly, not wanting to regret her words. Not that it mattered, Gith had probably already guessed that.

"As we surmized, but it was necessary to make certain," said Gith, his face crinkling in a smile as he stood and leaned heavily on a cane. "Have you any idea where we might find the marines?"

Osmond frowned. "I recall Dame Larel mentioning target practice or a training session, but I can't imagine where?"

Castle Kerndun is best described as a port-castle. It was situated not on the hill overlooking the village, but right in the centre of the harbour, surrounded by ships and fishing boats. It was slightly run down, but nevertheless looked like a cozy little castle. Totally unlike Kobalix's citadel which had been situated on a high cliff, it's walls rising two hundred feet and it was large enough to be a small city, Kerndun was small, quaint and covered with seaweed on its eastern side.

Notably among their ships was a huge hulking trireme which dominated the entire harbour. Larel didn't know what to think about it or the five hundred or so minotaurs that had placed the entire village under martial law and closed it down, letting no one leave it. It was going to be a bitch to get in without someone noticing.

Of course, they didn't really intend to go yet. This was simply a mission to see how well fortified and defended the place was. The obvious route would be by water, which meant the use of the warship Icicle and Admiral Savin's crew. "How many men on Savin's ship?"

"Three, maybe four hundred," replied Pothax, lying beside her from their vantage point in the sun burnt grass of the hill overlooking the village. The rain the previous day had done little to revive the wheatfields.