After the initial shock wore off, Richard Floritan knew he had to warn Rex. It wasn't out of any sense of loyalty to the man. It was because he already knew this would upset the Archduke. Managing that man's moods was such a pain, but Floritan knew someone had to, or the whole of Lockton would be on fire.

Climbing onto his carriage, Floritan sat, adjusting his coat on his shoulders. He'd been in such a hurry to get out of the palace that he feared he looked rather disheveled.

He still couldn't believe it.

That young man looked identical to the prince, which left two possibilities for the situation.

Floritan rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees, scowling at the driver's window. Either the Harlot had found a young man to replace that soulless lump in order to pull the ultimate heist just before the Crown Competition announcement.

Or, even less likely, Prince Solace had acquired a soul.

The odds of that happening were absolutely unfathomable. It implied that soulless could obtain souls at random, or Nyltia herself had stepped in to throw all Duke Cross' hard work into turmoil.

Again, Floritan felt incredibly disquited by that idea. After all, why would Nyltia care about the affairs of mankind? She was safely tucked away in the Holy Temple, clearing the sky of Miasma as she had done for two thousand years. She had no reason to interfere.

Except she had.

Three years ago. She'd sent the Eye of Truth and a letter proclaiming that Gwain was to be king.

Floritan shook his head at the bitter memory. It made him far too angry.

His carriage turned. Looking out the window, he saw that he'd entered Harthford's drive. While the Archduke had a bedroom in the eastern wing of the palace, he also had his own home in the noble quarter. It was property inherited from his wife, and he frequently used it to host dinners and other debauchery while his wife stayed in the duchy. It was an amicable arrangement for them, Floritan supposed.

She'd only managed to bear a single soulless child for the archduke while his mistress had presented him with Elliot around the same time. One switched for the other easily, and Rex Harthford didn't have to see the woman again.

Carriage pulling to a stop, Floritan hastily got out, striding to the doors with a purposeful gait.

The door immediately opened for him, as Floritan had expected it to. Now whether Rex Harthford would make an appearance within the hour was another matter entirely. It was still before noon, so it depended on how late the man had stayed up the previous night.

"Richard," Rex said from the top of the stairs, his robe open and a glass of wine in hand. At least he was wearing pants, though his hair was still mussed from his pillow. "What brings you here so early?" Languidly, he sauntered down the stairs, dragging his hand along the banister.

"I needed to inform you of a development at the palace," Floritan said stiffly.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Rex flicked his gaze over his guest. "You look out of sorts. What's it this time? Is Gwain trying to do something pointless again?"

"It's Solace."

"Did it die?" Rex asked, breaking into a broad grin. "Oh please tell me it choked and died!"

"Unfortunately, no. Solace is now speaking and moving about like a person."

Rex spat his wine back into the glass. He stared at Floritan for a long moment before he burst out laughing. "I never knew you could make jokes!"

"I'm not joking, Rex. I saw it myself. Either the Harlot found a boy who looks identical or Nyltia has intervened to give him a soul. Either way, the Harlot is going to put him forth as a candidate tonight."

"Nonsense! Neither of these things is possible." Rex Harthford drifted away, heading further into his house, the tie on his robe dragging the floor as he walked barefoot.

"Well the fact of the matter is that there's something that looks like the prince up and talking, and that is a problem for us." He followed Harthford into his dining hall, scowling as the archduke took a seat at the head of his table.

“How is that a problem for us? We’re going to get rid of the whole lot of them soon enough.” A Hannish woman with burn scars on her face crept forward to serve breakfast to her lord.

Clenching his fists, Floritan huffed. "It's going to split the party. As soon as the Loyalists get wind of this, they'll break off. You know they don't like you. They don't like Elliot."

"They'll do no such thing if they know what's good for them," Rex dismissed, shoving his glass at the Hannish slave.

She fumbled it and barely managed not to spill the contents. She bowed sloppily and retreated.

“She’s hired an impostor,” Harthford assured. “We just have to prove it, and the Harlot will be discredited. The problem of our split party will resolve itself, and we can punish anyone who dared to even think of leaving us. We'll get rid of them along with that idiot Gwain and his Harlot. Now, calm down and have a drink. We’ve still got a few hours before that dreadful dinner. What a waste of time.”

Floritan pressed his hand to his eyes. Rex was a hopeless cause. "Thank you for the offer," he said, "But I've duties to attend to elsewhere. I thought I would extend the courtesy of informing you first. Until this evening, Your Grace."

Rex waved his hand dismissively as he took his fork and knife to begin eating.

Seeing himself out, Floritan returned to his carriage. Archduke Harthford was an idiot, but a necessary one for their plans. "Duke Cross' estate," he told his driver. The one who would truly care about the incoming mess would be the true power behind the Aristocrats.

Settling into his seat, he waited anxiously as the cairraige rattled along the road further into the noble's quarter. Duke Cross had moved permanently into his home in Lockton some years ago, though he had not relinquished his title to his son as was traditional. In his seventies, he still made all the decisions concerning the Torgast duchy while his son managed Kemmaton.

Floritan hoped Duke Millions Cross would pay more heed to the warning. The old man was sharp and, frankly, terrifying. Whoever or whatever was currently being addressed as Prince Solace would not last the season once Duke Cross got involved.

His carriage turned right, entering Cross' drive. Floritan already knew what to expect from arriving unannounced at the Cross residence. He stepped out of his carriage with far less hurry. Approaching the door, he had to knock before it was opened, and once open, the butler stiffly greeted him.

"Count Floritan," the butler greeted. "What is your business at this residence?"

"I need to speak with His Grace about an urgent matter. It was too important to wait or commit to paper."

Despite this, Floritan knew he would be neglected for at least half an hour. In Duke Cross' house, events moved at his pace, or not at all.

Duke Cross was not a man to be trifled with, after all.

The butler nodded and guided Floritan to the customary sitting room to the right of the front door. Taking a seat, Floritan leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees with a frustrated sigh.

"Urgent matters," Duke Cross intoned from the door.

Floritan hastily stood and bowed. "Your Grace."

"It better be important," Millions Cross said as he strolled into the sitting room, his cane clacking on the floor as he crossed to one of the chairs.

"Prince Solace has begun speaking and moving around on his own. I witnessed this myself. Whether it's truly his body with a soul or an impostor, Charlotte has accepted him as her son," Floritan hurried to report as he still stood. Only after Cross had taken a seat did he dare to sit as well.

Dancing around the egos of these men who aimed for the throne was far too exhausting.

Cross took a deep breath, lips pursing in thought as he stared at Floritan.

On the bright side, Cross was taking his words seriously. "An unfortunate turn of events. But he's likely an impostor she hired. We will expose him, make a fool of her, and anyone who dares to leave our party to support him. Begin investigating where he came from. Once you've found the gutter he came from, arrest his family and friends. They'll all be hanged alongside him."

Floritan nodded. He supposed he should've known this would be Cross' response. There wasn't much else to do. "Wouldn't it be easier to find Prince Solace's corpse, wherever she stashed it?"

Cross thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Search for it as well. Though I doubt she had him killed. She's far too fond of that rotting sack. She probably stashed him in Elk Palace or something."

That made sense. Floritan nodded. "I will immediately begin the search, Your Grace."

The old man got to his feet again, forcing Floritan to rise as well. Without a farewell, Cross left the room, indicating that Floritan should see himself out.

With his mission clear, Floritan hurried back to his carriage to return to the palace.