The sun was a red ball on the horizon when Robbie raised her hand, signaling us to slow. Through the trees ahead, I could see lights. Torches or lanterns. The castle.

  We dismounted in a small clearing, tying the horses where they’d be hidden from the road. I gave Shamoly an apple from my inventory when no one was looking. Not that I thought they would care if I gave the horse an apple, but they might have wondered where it had come from. People checked their weapons, tightened straps on armor, moved with the practiced efficiency of people who’d done this before.

  Robbie gathered us in a circle. “You know your roles,” she said quietly. “Scarlock, Jack, you’re with me on the main entrance. Elizabeth, you stay with Thomas.” She gestured to a middle-aged man with kind eyes, who nodded at me. “He’ll keep you out of trouble. Everyone else, positions as planned. Questions?”

  There were none.

  “Then let’s go. Remember, be quiet and be quick. No one gets hurt if we can help it.” She eyed a couple of her men specifically. I remembered who they were to monitor them.

  We moved through the darkening woods like ghosts. It was surprising how “Mr. Everything Red” didn’t stand out in the gloom. In the shadows his clothing was just as indistinguishable as the deep browns of the others.

  My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure someone could hear it. It wasn’t fear, though. It was anticipation. Dekka, sensing my energy, pressed close and stayed alert as we walked.

  “Don’t be getting big unless you have to,” I told her. “Or if I tell you do.”

  She gave a dismissive snort and a side eye. What did she mean by that? Was that terrier for “I do what I want” or was it “I’m not stupid, of course I won’t give us away”?

  And then we reached the edge of the trees, and I saw it.

  The summer castle rose against the twilight sky, elegant and beautiful. It wasn’t massive. Not like the grand castles I had been told about in the capital, but it was easily the most impressive structure I’d seen in the game so far. It put Lord Ashburn’s castle to shame. White stone that seemed to glow in the fading light, tall windows with actual glass in them, gardens that probably looked spectacular in daylight. The architecture was refined, showing a craftmanship I hadn’t encountered before. Pennants flew from the towers, deep blue with some kind of crest I couldn’t make out in the dimming light.

  This wasn’t just some minor noble’s hunting lodge where he could get away for a vacation. This was serious wealth. And this was all made by the taxes of the poor? I frowned inwardly. If I was a peasant barely scraping by and I saw this, I would be pissed too.

  “Elizabeth?” Thomas whispered beside me. “You okay?”

  I wasn’t sure. Because whoever owned this castle, they were important. Very important. And we were about to rob them. But those pennants elegantly wafting in the soft breeze were likely made of a finer cloth than the clothes of most of the people I had met. Did the lord of this manor deserve to waste such finery on something so trivial?

  I felt unsure. It wasn’t likely the lord had worked for his wealth. Built things, invented things. But how could I be sure?

  Robbie was leading people toward a side entrance, moving with absolute confidence. Jack had disappeared around the other side. Scarlock was checking his weapons one more time, his face alive with excitement.

  And I was standing there. Possibly a participant?

  These people weren’t wrong about the system being broken. But this... what if the person inside was trying to help? What if they were one of the good ones? I thought of Sera.

  What if people got hurt? What if innocent NPCs died? I calmed myself by remembering that there were no players around. Any NPCs who died would come back in the next iteration. Dying would suck, but they wouldn’t remember the trauma. With that thought, I straightened my back. I would see this through. Play the game and all that. The thought of trauma brought Vampress and Pal to mind. I would have to remember to ask how they were doing.

  I stood frozen at the edge of the trees, my club heavy in my hand, watching Robbie’s people slip toward the castle like shadows. I joined in letting my excitement grow.

  The side entrance was barely guarded. One man, older, who looked half-asleep in his chair. Jack materialized behind him like a shadow, and there was a brief scuffle, a muffled sound, and then silence. The guard slumped in his chair, unconscious but breathing.

  “He’ll wake up with a headache,” Jack murmured, already moving past. “Nothing more.”

  I looked at the thin trail of blood running down the man’s forehead and across his cheek and hoped that was right.

  I followed Thomas through the door, Dekka padding silently at my heels. The castle’s interior was even more impressive than the outside. Marble floors, polished until they gleamed. Tapestries on the walls depicted hunting scenes and battles. Ornate gold candelabras that probably cost more than most people earned in a year.

  We moved through servants’ corridors, narrow passages that let staff move unseen through the grand spaces. Thomas kept a hand on my arm, not rough but firm. A reminder that I wasn’t fully trusted.

  Ahead, I could hear quiet sounds. Doors opening, the soft clink of metal, whispered instructions. Robbie’s people were already at work. Despite myself, I was very impressed with their professionalism and skill.

  We emerged into what looked like a sitting room. More ostentatious wealth on display. Furniture upholstered in silk, a writing desk of a starkly different style, likely a costly imported luxury with dark wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Paintings of hunting dogs, horses, and landscapes in gilt frames. Through an archway, I could see into a larger room, and there Scarlock and two others were working methodically through a cabinet, removing silver candlesticks, ornate boxes, anything small and valuable.

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  Robbie appeared from another doorway, a leather satchel in her hand. “Second floor is clear,” she said quietly. “The treasury room is exactly where our information said it would be. Jack’s working on the lock now.”

  “Any trouble?” Thomas asked.

  “None. Most of the household is gone, just like we were told. A few servants, some guards, but they’re not expecting anything. Why would they? Who’s foolish enough to rob a—” She stopped herself, glanced at me, then continued. “Who’s foolish enough to rob a place like this?”

  They moved with intention. This wasn’t their first time. They knew what to take and what to leave. This was a most efficient robbery. They focused on portable wealth like coins, jewelry, small valuables. Nothing too large or distinctive that would be impossible to move or sell.

  I stood with Thomas in the corner of the sitting room, watching. Dekka sat beside me, alert but quiet. She seemed to understand that now was not the time for her usual antics.

  Though I had said nothing. What they were doing made sense to me. But Thomas felt the need to explain.

  He looked at me, “Can’t carry it all. And some things...” He gestured to a large painting, a landscape of rolling hills. “Some things are too recognizable. Too risky to try to sell. We take what we can use or convert to coin quickly.”

  “What you are doing makes perfect sense to me. You take all the gold, though,” I said. “Small gold items, not the chandeliers,” I said, looking up at the gold and crystal monstrosities overhead. Though maybe that was just gold leaf. “And the coins from tax collection. That’s the primary target?”

  “Aye,” Thomas said, and there was satisfaction in his voice. “That’s the prize. Money taken from farmers and craftsmen, and shopkeepers. We’ll make sure it gets back to people who need it.”

  From deeper in the castle, I heard a soft sound of triumph. A moment later, Jack appeared, carrying a heavy chest. Even from across the room, I could see how he strained to carry it.

  “Got it,” he said simply.

  Robbie’s face lit up. “How much?”

  “Enough to keep five or six villages fed through winter,” Jack said. “Maybe more.”

  People started gathering, preparing to leave. They moved quickly now, urgency replacing the careful quiet. The longer they stayed, the more risk they ran.

  I watched them work, my mind churning. Who was this lord to have such finery in what was essentially his cabin in the woods? The money would go to people who needed it. People who were starving while nobles didn’t even live in places like this.

  Whose place was this? They must be someone important. Maybe there was another storyline here?

  “Thomas,” I said quietly. “Who lives here? What noble owns a place like this?”

  Thomas looked at me, one eyebrow arched. “You haven’t figured it out? No noble. This is a royal estate.”

  My stomach dropped. “Royal?”

  “Aye. One of the summer residences. Apparently, they rotate between them, choosing whichever one suits the hunting season.” He shrugged. “Makes our job easier. Places like this sit empty most of the year while people freeze in their homes because they can’t afford firewood.”

  Royal. This was a royal castle. Which meant...

  No, it couldn’t be. Were there more than one royal families in this game?

  And there were multiple royal family members, right? It could be anyone’s.

  I turned, looking around the room with fresh eyes. Looking for something, anything, that would tell me I was wrong.

  And then I saw it.

  On the far wall, between two windows, hung a portrait. Not a large one—nothing ostentatious—but beautifully painted. A young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen, in over the top formal medieval fantasy attire. He wore deep blue that matched the pennants outside, and around his neck hung a chain with the royal crest.

  He was younger in the painting. His face was less careworn, his eyes less tired. But the features were unmistakable. The set of his jaw, the particular shade of his eyes, the way he held himself with that mixture of confidence and burden.

  It was him.

  The Prince.

  The prince I’d met on that battlefield. Who’d looked at his dying men with genuine grief. Who’d talked about duty and responsibility and trying to do better. Who’d seemed so human, so real, so conflicted about the weight of what he carried.

  This was his castle. Or at least it was his father’s. But I heard the king never left his castle in the capital. That his only son, the prince, was the one running things. So that meant…

  All this wealth. This absurd, excessive, completely unnecessary wealth. The marble floors and silk furniture, and silver candlesticks, and rooms that sat empty while people starved. This was his.

  I felt like the ground had shifted under me.

  “Elizabeth?” Thomas was looking at me with concern. “You’ve gone pale.”

  I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t process what I was feeling. The Prince—the man who’d seemed so genuinely concerned about his people—lived like this? Spent money on places like this while collecting taxes from people who could barely feed themselves? He had lived in a tent on the battlefield. Yes, it had been a nicer tent than his soldier’s, but not that much nicer.

  How could both things be true?

  I had liked the man.

  Across the room, Robbie emerged from another corridor carrying a painting of her own—something small and valuable-looking. She saw me staring at the portrait and followed my gaze.

  Her expression darkened.

  She walked over to the portrait, looked up at it for a long moment, then deliberately spat at the base of the frame.

  “Your Highness,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. She performed an exaggerated bow, one hand sweeping out in theatrical deference. “Thank you so much for your generous donation to the people. Your sacrifice will be remembered.”

  Scarlock laughed from across the room. Someone else made a rude gesture at the portrait.

  I stood frozen, watching Robbie mock the image of a man I’d met. A man who’d been kind to me. Who’d seemed genuine.

  “Come on,” Thomas said, tugging gently at my arm. “We’re leaving. Time to go.”

  People were filing out, carrying satchels and bags full of stolen goods. The heavy chest of gold was already gone, probably loaded onto one of the horses. The operation was nearly complete.

  We moved toward the exit, following the others. Through the corridors, past the unconscious guard (still breathing, I checked), toward the door we’d entered through.

  My mind was racing. The Prince. This was the prince’s castle. These were the Prince’s things. That was the Prince’s gold they’d just stolen. They hated the prince. They spat at him. But he had fought the weta for all the people. To keep the farmland safe.

  But had that been to protect his wealth? Or to protect the people?

  The prince who’d talked about duty. About trying to serve his people. About the weight of responsibility. Were the peasants people to him? Or just his fellow nobles and soldiers?

  The prince who apparently lived in luxury that would make most nobles jealous. Could he care and live like this? How could he talk about responsibility while sitting on this much wealth?

  Was Robbie right? Was the system so broken that even the well-meaning nobles were part of the problem? That you couldn’t be good and be part of this structure?

  We were at the edge of the woods now. People were loading the horses, working quickly in the darkness. Robbie was directing people, her voice low but commanding. The operation had gone perfectly. No one hurt. No alarm raised. A complete success.

  I should stay quiet. I should keep my mouth shut. What did it matter that I’d met the Prince? What did it matter that I’d seen a different side of him? These people had their own truths, their own experiences. Who was I to add nuance?

  But I couldn’t. I couldn’t not ask about this. Did they know how he fought to protect the land? Did it matter?

  Everyone was mounting up. Robbie was checking that everything was secure. In another moment, we’d ride away.

  “I know the Prince,” I said, trying to say it to just Robbie. I wanted it to sound casual, but the words came out louder than I’d intended. Loud enough that several people turned to look at me. Loud enough that Robbie froze, her hand on her saddle.

  The forest around us seemed to hold its breath. Robbie froze where she was, mid checking her stallion’s girth.

  “I met him on a battlefield far off in the east,” I said, trying to make it sound like no big deal. Yet in the silence, I was sure everyone heard me.