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Rusta loomed on the horizon, stark against the setting sun, and even if she hadn’t been told, years of experience on the campaign had Kat gauging a simple truth from one look alone.

They were only a day’s march away.

She expected Adrien to be mired in dread, but the prince was in shockingly good spirits, surveying the last stretch of roadbed being dug out with a lopsided, almost charming grin on his face.

She had to hand it to him—for once, a royal had been more than just talk.

Over the course of barely two and a half months, Adrien had carved a line clean through the map of the continent, paid every soldier a fair wage for their contribution, and was offering a release from service with no strings attached that, if nothing went sideways between here and his victory ball, was only a couple days away.

And, as if the promise of the victory ball wasn’t enough, Adrien had decided to throw a feast for the Third Century and spared no expense to do so.

He’d sent the porters out to the local farms surrounding the capital, and each of them had returned with a veritable bounty that the cooks had been working tirelessly over with just as much vigor as the soldiers digging some of their final trenches.

The mess tent was torn down for the night, sending the smoke of their cookfires high into the starry skies above and leaving the rows of tables open to the soft breeze that whispered through the camp, carrying with it the last gasps of summer’s warmth and the promise of autumn’s chill.

Kat had been salivating for a solid hour, barely able to focus on Adrien’s meetings as she caught whiffs of the food being prepared.

The farmland around the capital had borne only the slightest of incursions by the Demon Lord’s forces, and this late in the season, it spilled over with abundance.

Tomatoes, corn, even gourds already falling off the vine.

Kat had grown up sustained by these fields, and the smell was enough to rocket her back to childhood memories of lightly seasoned squash roasting over coals her father had brought in from the forge.

Adrien had also seen fit to procure around forty casks of ale for the festivities.

He’d hemmed and hawed over whether it would be enough, and Kat had not-so-subtly encouraged that anxiety until he’d decided it would be better to overestimate than fall short.

She had a sneaking suspicion that they’d need to add an extra day to their schedule to account for the hangovers that were about to be incurred.

At long last, the sun plunged toward the horizon.

The mess bell tolled, the tables were set, and the first casks were cracked into as the century passed flagons around under Adrien’s patient eye.

He’d floated himself up to stand on the table at the heart of the arrangement, straddling a whole roasted hog as he looked on with merry eyes and his own cup propped on his hip.

His circlet was notably absent. Tonight, he was just a man.

A man with a hundred tokens arrayed across his chest, but Kat found she appreciated the gesture all the same.

“Places,” he called as soon as it seemed everyone had gotten their cup.

Kat and the rest of the first decade packed in around the table at his feet, as around them the century followed suit.

Shields on one side, spears on the other—though at this point, all the organization felt like a play they were putting on.

They were so close to the capital and the moment when many of them would no longer have to care about sticking to their formation.

Emory sat directly across from her, catching her eye with a subtle smirk as Adrien knocked his signet ring against his cup and whistled for quiet. Under the table, her battle partner’s boot pressed unsubtly on top of her toes.

“My friends,” Adrien declared as the noise of the century finding their places settled.

His Voice of Angels token was working its magic, but he’d mastered the art of finding a middle ground with its power, taking his projection down from ear-shattering to sufficiently loud.

“I’ve gathered you all here tonight to celebrate your magnificent accomplishment.

Not only have you built the finest road this continent has ever seen, but you’ve also seen me safely delivered from the Mouth of Hell itself all the way to Rusta’s gates.

Tonight, I celebrate you. I toast to you.

I thank you for every drop of sweat you’ve given to this kingdom.

And I reiterate my solemn vow. On the morning after the victory ball, every last one of you will be entitled to a full release from the contracts of service that still bind you.

We’ve all worked hard to bring about a world at peace. All of you are free to enjoy it.”

He tipped his cup up, and the century raised a hearty cheer in answer.

It was a far cry from his first stumbling attempts to address them, and Kat couldn’t help the pride that warmed through her at the sight of the prince, bright and steady and ready for his future.

She met his toast and drank deeply, letting out a satisfied grunt at the crisp, cool, malted ale—one she knew Emory must have mirrored.

“I also want to raise a toast to the leadership that has helped make my vision a reality,” Adrien continued, pivoting to face the long table that was set up at the far edge of the feast. At it, Mira, Mobbert, and the rest of the prince’s advisers flanked Adrien’s four companions, each of them resplendent in their gold and dressed in Telrusian red to mark the occasion.

“Without you, my ideas would be nothing but vague whims of a better world.”

Kat caught Emory’s eye across the table, tamping down a snort. The important thing was that Adrien saw where credit was due and acknowledged it, already a huge stride from where he’d started. They toasted along with the prince, drinking deeply and eagerly.

“And finally, to my dear companions,” Adrien said.

Kat wondered if she was the only person who’d watched him closely enough to see the mountain of tension that had come crashing down over his shoulders as he narrowed his sights on the four highborns.

“Though it was I who struck the final blow on the evil that blighted our land for the past twenty years, it was only possible because I had the four of you at my side. You’ve challenged me in every way.

Made me the Aurean I am.” He folded a hand over his array for emphasis, as if to make sure no one forgot just how many tokens sat on his chest. “If they call me the hero of the realm, if they feast to my accomplishments, I must reject it wholeheartedly. We have done this together, and I’m forever in your debt. ”

Celia looked bored. Daya was already draining her cup, heedless of the prince’s toast. Neither of them seemed to find it ironic that the prince was singing their praises—but then again, neither of them had cracked when Adrien cut off access to their couriers.

If they were playing a game, they were playing it well—well enough that none of the infantry Kat and Emory had organized to survey them under the guise of extra protection had reported anything untoward.

They were only a day from the capital. Surely the traitor would have to reveal themselves before then.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Adrien announced, snapping Kat out of her scrutiny.

“A very special toast to the Third’s own Katrien, who has been by my side through thick and thin on this project.

It has been a delight to watch her flourish, and I cannot wait to see the illustrious future that awaits her. ”

Kat froze under the sudden, all-too-familiar weight of the century’s attention.

No, she wanted to protest. This isn’t right.

She was supposed to be laughing along with the rest of them at Adrien’s overblown speeches—she wasn’t supposed to be a subject.

There was a horrible pause, a moment where none of them knew what todo.

Then Emory surged up from his chair. “ TO KATRIEN, ” he hollered.

The decade followed their hinge shield. The century roared in reply.

Tankards hoisted, Ziva and Sawyer crushed in on either side of her, and the first decade alone made so much rowdy noise that it could probably be heard from Rusta’s city wall.

She may have been an Aurean, may have set herself apart from them, may have been elevated again and again by the prince’s attention, but the decade had Kat’s back—on the battlefield and off.

It was a profound relief to be reminded ofit.

Kat could barely get her own tankard to her lips through all the jostling, and half of it ended up sloshed down her front.

Sputtering and thoroughly overwhelmed, she barely caught the moment Adrien activated his Lightness of Angels token and stepped off the table, tipping her a cheery salute as he floated back down to the ground.

They fell on the feast like wild dogs, hardly caring that a few yards away, Mira was staring resolutely at her plate and shielding her eyes from the spectacle her soldiers were making of themselves.

Half of them didn’t need their centurion’s respect, anyway—not if their releases were on the horizon.