As they entered the chambers the king went to his desk and leaned his girth against it. Before he could ask the obvious question, Taréz decided to answer it.
“I’m here because Gardric ordered me here.” He wasn’t surprised to see his father’s eybrows shoot up. “His presumption aside, we’ve been winning battles. On my front, their forces were only half-serious. However, all the rest of the divisions are winning against the odds. Frankly, it’s fishy. Rather than arguing with him, I took the opportunity to leave a very unchallenging situation. Now, I think I ought to try to find out what it is that they have that I didn’t.”
“Didn’t?”
His father had caught his use of the past tense. “Reports since my departure indicate that, despite a drastically reduced force—”
“How drastic?”
“They were eight hundred when I left. Gardic sent a new second-in-command, who promptly sent half of them away to the other fronts.”
“Any reduction in the light force?”
“No, but now that I’m gone, my division is winning much more handily. I’m not a bad commander, Father.”
“No, Gardric has always had the greatest praise for you. It seems he’s hiding something, but why? It isn’t like him.”
“I don’t know. Has he reported in recently?”
The king seemed pensive a moment. “No. With all the financial trouble and recent excitement, I hadn’t thought of that. He hasn’t. Get on it, Taréz. If Gardric feels he has to hide something from us, we might have to stop him.”
“Even if it’s winning battles?”
“In a war we shouldn’t be fighting? Definitely. My image is already tarnished for future historians, but I won’t make it any worse.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Father.”
“Me, too,” the elder Vle sighed.
The pigeonkeeper popped in just then. “Message for you, Sire.”
“You couldn’t just pass it on?” asked Taréz as he went to the door.
“No, Sire, everyone else is busy getting ready for the ball this week.”
“The ball!” exclaimed Taréz. “I’d actually forgotten! That might be a good thing.” He stopped at arm’s length and reached for the scroll in the pigeonkeeper’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Pigeonkeeper.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He turned and left, still leaving a whiff of pigeon in his wake.
“What do you mean, it’s a good thing?”
“Better to concentrate on the government thing, right, and leave the party planning to everyone else?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Still, you know how I look forward to these events. Especially now that things are looking up. What does it say?”
Taréz opened the scroll and read it aloud.

Your Majesty,
This is to report four victories on the eastern front. The Varmacian forces gave ground and the front is now a day’s march east of The Twin Lakes. I now personally will turn my attention to the south. We’re holding against the humans at the Isthmus of Ladelan, but I now believe we can start pushing them back. The Varabians are doing very well against the islander forces and I expect our border there to be restored sometime next week. On that good news, enjoy your ball!
Gardric

“The forces at the isthmus are as thinly stretched as everywhere else, so I think we can assume he’s using his secret weapon there, too,” added Taréz.
“When Gardric finds something that works, he applies it in every way possible. Leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, Father.”

Taréz smoothly swung himself onto the horse. “I can’t say when I’ll be back.”
“Just as long as your father knows where you’re going,” joked the horsemaster. “Just out for some fresh air?”
“No, a bit more than that. Good day, Intret.”
“Good day, Your Highness.”

Taréz considered heading east, back to the battlefield he’d left, but the lack of cover disqualified that option. So, he headed directly south to the peninsula.
Three days later, he arrived at Ginnel, which was about as close he wanted to be on horseback. The town had very few people left in it, and those who stayed were very reserved. Taréz decided to be just as reserved, lest he draw attention to himself. Some soldiers walked the streets, and he didn’t really care to be recognized.
A coin in a stablehand’s palm helped ensure good care for his horse— the horsemaster wouldn’t have it otherwise. He hefted the pack onto his own back, and headed south once more.
It wasn’t long before the clangs and shouts of war could be heard. That meant that if any scouts were going to see his approach, they would have already. He had no illusions that the camouflage was a guarantee against that.
He unsheathed his sword and continued closer. In the dense undergrowth, there was no telling who he’d run into and when. Somewhere ahead was a secret weapon. Two Larmanian troops charged past him from behind, hardly giving him notice. Then, a human stumbled by. At sight of Taréz, his eyes widened, and he would have fallen if Taréz hadn’t caught him. “Are you wounded?”
“No, no,” the soldier murmured. “Just... very, very tired. Must... go on...”
But it was clear the soldier was not going to go on. Taréz lay him down and moved on. The pattern continued— Vle he met were energetic and fighting with great (verve), but the humans appeared as if they had been fighting constantly for a week.
The forest darkened, and the sounds of war decreased. Now, the troops he saw heade the opposite direction, just as energetic as ever. Taréz relaxed against a small tree, and waited until no more troops came by before pitching his tent and calling it a night.

Morning brought a slightly different scheme. Slightly before dawn, a human poked his head into Taréz’s tent. He met a dark fist for his trouble. Taréz stepped out, sword drawn, and made quick work of the soldiers. But these humans had been different than the ones he met the day before: fresh and ready for battle. Only skill won the moment. As they all lay unconscious around his tent, he considered. Though it was technically his duty to kill them, he didn’t really feel like he was part of the war. After all, he was prince. He could decide that, couldn’t he?
Not that it mattered. Any Larmanian soldier who found them here would end their lives. Still, Taréz gave them a fighting chance, and packed up his camp.
Humans he met later that hour were progressively less energetic, much more quickly than would be expected of normal battle. By the time sunlight could be seen shining through the treetops, the mystery effect had run its course. But the dark Vle he met seemed to be gaining in strength.
Taréz quickened his survey of the battlefield. The answer had to be here, somewhere!