Noon.
Sunlight passed through the windowpanes, casting stripes across the floor of Philip's study.
The pungent smell of scorched parchment filled the air. In the fireplace, the ashes of several secret agreements still gave off their last red glow.
Philip paced back and forth in his study, the cashmere carpet swallowing the tread of his leather boots.
"Until we can uncover that priest's background, we have to account for the risk. We must leave, but we can't simply abandon everything and go."
He spoke in a low voice. "Someone must stay behind to draw the Inquisition's attention."
In the shadows, his intelligence chief bowed.
"You mean..."
Philip stopped, his gaze passing through the window toward another mansion in the distance.
"That bull Valerius is nothing but trouble, and his hands have never been clean. He's the best choice. No one is better suited to being bait."
The intelligence chief kept his head lowered and offered no reply, merely retreating deeper into the shadows.
"Understood."
"I understand now!"
Valerius sat in his study, wiping his Knight's Longsword over and over with an oil-soaked linen cloth.
The blade reflected the candlelight in dazzling flashes.
"Bait! That effeminate fan-waving fop Philip must be planning to use me as bait! He wants to run!"
His adjutant stood beside him, his body rigid beneath his armor.
"What should we do, my lord? Withdraw under cover of night?"
Valerius thrust his sword back into its scabbard with a clang. The grating scrape of metal made the adjutant shrink back.
"No! If he wants to run, I'll make sure he can't! I'll tether him here with the thing he values most!"
He grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth. "What I mean is, you must always keep that ridiculous so-called noble honor of his in mind."
Confusion