Rubbing his forehead, Reed scowled as he headed across the palace to the Guard Officer hall. It was a northern-facing hall that mirrored the financial office wing, just on the other side of the front entrance. A pair of Eastern Barracks knights were with a maid in the southwest hall. Two more were horsing around in the foyer. They were probably supposed to be guarding the front door of the palace.

This place is a mess.

He hadn't meant to snap at Patrick, but he had a hangover and wasn't feeling very hopeful about anything. Getting to spar Blanch had been an unexpected treat. She hadn't been a challenge, but he'd enjoyed getting to show off for once. However, he really should have verified the letter with Fisk before taking her up on it.

Passing the Eastern Barracks captain's office, Reed glanced through the open door. Kelvin's secretary was making out with the only other openly female knight in the Palace Guard. She was better known for her horizontal swordplay.

The next office was Fisk's.

Fisk's secretary was leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk. His agape mouth gurgled and rattled as he snored.

Ignoring him, he knocked on Fisk's closed door.

"Who is it?" Fisk called.

"Sir Owen," he replied.

"Come in."

Reed glanced at the secretary. He hadn't even twitched. Opening the door, he stepped into the office.

"I was about to call for you. Close the door," Fisk said. The office was nice, full of modern furniture, clean, and dust-free. The shelves had personal books and keepsakes, rather than the office paperwork Reed had to look at every day.

Sir Blanch stood stiffly in front of Fisk's desk. The man himself sat with his hands laced on it. Reed didn't like where this was going, but he closed the door anyway, cutting off the secretary's snoring. "Sir, was I wrong to take this at face value?" He lifted the paper.

"No. You were not wrong. I'm just surprised by the result." Fisk paused for a moment before continuing, "Sir Owen, will you explain how you so handily defeated one of my best?" He fixed Reed with a stern look. "Without the strange quips or jokes."

"The truth, then?" Reed asked. Well, it wasn't like he'd be around for the consequences next week. "Truth is, Sir, your best are all show. They'd be better off in a theater troupe. Sir Blanch's balance and footwork are trash because no one's pushed her over before. She can't keep hold of her sword because she tries to go at it with brute strength she ain't got. She don't know how to dodge, and she don't know an opening from a trap."

He could see her ears turning red at his assessment.

Fisk folded his arms. "And how would you go about rectifying this issue?"

"Send 'em all home and hire the Guild to guard the palace," Reed retorted.

Blanch sucked in an indignant breath.

"Pampered children ain't got no business guarding something as important as the palace. They don't take it seriously, ain't never at their posts, and y'all pay them way too much for the little work they choose to do. Yer secretary is out there droolin' on the desk," Reed continued.

Blanch whipped around, "As if your people are better?" she demanded.

"Yeah. I know exactly where they are. Marx is on the far point fence, Timmons and Avery are at the western door. Greene is standing at the head of the north wing. Guarding is boring, but it's what we're here to do. Where's Cross? Where's Hershel? Where's Rainwater, Renway, Darens? I bet if you go to their posts right now, you won't find them," Reed argued back and smirked. "Now, where are you supposed to be today, Sir Blanch?"

Her whole face turned red.

Fisk was frowning, his mustache pulling down severely with the expression. "Sir Owen, that letter only covers your duel with Sir Blanch. It does not cover insulting her."

"Sir, you ordered me to tell the truth, and I did," Reed shot back.

Blanch had her head bowed, fists clenched.

"I also asked you how Sir Blanch could improve," Fisk snapped, palms pressed to the desk.

"Sir, Blanch ain't got a chance of that unless she puts aside her status like she did today. She ain't gonna find anyone worthwhile among the so-called sword instructors that sell their services to the high nobility."

"Sir Cross taught me!" Blanch shouted, head still lowered, shoulders up. "Are you saying Sir Cross is a terrible instructor?" She lifted her eyes to glare at him.

"Sir Blanch, you are dismissed," Fisk interrupted.

She whipped toward him, gaping. "Sir!"

"Dismissed," Fisk repeated.

Face screwed in fury and tears in her eyes, she shoulder-checked Reed as she passed and slammed the door behind her. A clatter outside indicated that Fisk's secretary had toppled out of his chair.

Fisk stood and paced around his desk. "I'm not sure what caused your change in attitude, Sir Owen, but insulting the high nobility will get you punished."

Reed stayed silent.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fisk continued, "You're going to start teaching her next week."

"All due respect, sir, I don't think I'll be available."

"Are you refusing a direct order?"

Reed lifted a brow. "Ain't you heard the gossip?"

Fisk had apparently not. He folded his arms. "Enlighten me."

Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, Reed considered a quippy way to put it. "Sir Salvage paid us a visit and knocked the roof down."

"Speak plainly."

"The roof went from being on the outside of the barracks, where it should be, to being on the floor in the hall."

"The roof collapsed." Fisk corrected in disbelief. "Something like that doesn't just happen on its own."

"Well, if our repair requests hadn't been denied for the last twenty years, the issue would've been fixed before it did. I wrote it in my reports every week. No one did nothin about it, so I guess that's just how y'all wanted it to go."

Fisk covered his face with his hand, then wiped down, petting his mustache.

"I'd give you the proof, but last night, someone stole my accounting books and the rejected repair requests."

"You had the rejected repair requests?"

"Yeah. Financial office refused to take them. Said they didn't need trash cluttering their drawers."

"Saintess' Tears," he cursed behind his hand as he pet his mustache again. Both of them knew that the financial office was supposed to keep the rejected requests. "Sir Owen, I assume that you're adept at not being found when you don't want to be."

Reed remained silent at that statement. Did he just order me to go make myself scarce?

"Just make sure you don't do anything that would make someone want to find you. At least for a few days."

Reed saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

As he left Fisk's office, he flicked a disdainful glance at the secretary, who seemed startled to see Reed.

Mentally sorting the things he needed to do, Reed made a quick list. New schedule that includes posts to guard Solace. Kelvin's dumb daily report. The weekly report on the barracks.

Putting people as Solace’s guard would mean no one got a break unless Reed and Patrick took a day here and there. Reed already had his hands full with being the captain and running interference on the high nobles. Patrick had his own duties, plus what Reed couldn't get to. But Reed couldn't pull guard duty if he had to be in hiding. He glanced down the northern hall to find several nobles gathered at the financial office door, knocking on it incessantly.

Not my business, he decided.

Now for a hiding place... They’d look in Hannish Street first. Reed could wear a tabba as Lily had suggested, but he didn't like them. Lockton's humidity made the cloth soggy in minutes, and if anyone got close, they'd see his eyebrows were red. Brown and black hair seemed to be universal among the Hans, and Reed wouldn't put it past Kelvin's men to go ripping headcovers off everyone they saw. His only option was to stay in the palace, in which case, he knew exactly where to go.

Getting to his office, he went straight to his desk for a schedule form. Lily had put everything back where it was supposed to go. She was much better organized than he was. He knew the whole barracks would've fallen apart three years ago if not for her. Unfortunately, he only had one form left, and the copy of this past month's schedule had been torn in half. Lily had put it back into the folder anyway since it wasn't unreadable. Piecing it together, he wrote a note at the bottom of the new guard positions and started filling in names.

Patrick appeared in his doorway, expression stormy. "That was really rude."

Reed put his pen down and gave Patrick his full attention. "It was. I'm sorry."

Gritting his teeth, Patrick closed his eyes and stepped into the office, closing the door. "Reed, I don't know what we'd do without you. I don't think things will go back to how they were under Bass."

"Probably end up worse," Reed agreed. He lifted his hand to forestall Patrick from continuing his worries. "I talked to Fisk. I was unofficially ordered to hide for a while. Apparently, he was entirely unaware of the embezzlement and will probably start looking into it. But with our shit stolen," Reed gestured at the empty shelf. "I can't really back up what I said unless Kelvin actually kept the weekly reports."

Covering his face with both hands, Patrick breathed into them and shoved his hair back to reveal his receding hairline. "That's one more person potentially on our side. Surprising that it's Fisk, though..."

"Dunno. Rules have always been a thing with him." He got back to assigning names to slots. "I'm putting guards on Solace. You're gonna have to make sure people know because no one's getting days off anymore."

"Where are you going to hide?"

"Attic."

"I'll make sure you get lunch, then," Patrick assured and took the rewritten schedule. "Thank you for apologizing, and thank you for finally doing something to save yourself."

Reed started getting his things together. "Even though it's probably going to put a target on your back. I didn't have any more schedule forms."

"I'll get more."

He found the latest Duchess Delectable book from the jumble on his shelf and stuffed it into his bag as well. He'd have time to read it now. "Need to take weeklies from the men. What reports can I do for you?"

"Inventory, Barracks inspection, and the monthly status," Patrick answered, pulling the small notebook from his pocket to rip the pages. They both knew Kelvin would be irritated that Reed had written these reports since he hated looking at Reed's handwriting.

He finished packing and turned to look at Patrick. "Good luck. Stay out of trouble."

"Me? You are the one who constantly finds trouble. I'm going to be incredibly relieved that you're staying hidden for a while. We might have a quiet week for once!"

Reed snorted and walked past him into the hall and headed for the stairs.

The palace was a terribly executed mess of construction that had happened at different times. There were multiple spots in the halls where a whisper at one end could be heard at the other. Standing at the top of the western stairs, he could listen to any conversation in the hallway junction below. But an even lesser-known secret of the western stairs was that when they’d added the northern wing, they’d put in a hidden door that led to the attic at the landing. Reed absolutely loved finding hidden doors, and upon gaining entry to the palace as a squire, he'd immediately gone looking. He’d not used it since becoming Barracks Captain, but the stuff he’d snuck in there was probably untouched. He was careful to make sure no one was in the junction below when he slipped into his hiding space.

Once inside, he lit the lamp and sighed at the collected dust. At least there were windows he could open to get a cross breeze and air it out.

His next task was to knock the dust from the pillows.

Something fell out and clattered to the floor as he picked them up.

Curious, Reed leaned over to pick up the notebook that had fallen. It was one of his, but it shouldn't have been in the attic. Last he remembered, it was on the shelf in his barracks room. The dust in the room indicated that no one had been in there since the last time he was. The notebook was not dusty. It shouldn't have been there.