Marcus snatched the letter back, sliding the crisp parchment safely into his coat. He stared at the small scrap of paper that would soon grant him unhindered access to the private halls of his king's greatest enemy.
As a simple scout turned field agent, Marcus wasn't usually privy to the finer mechanics of high-level espionage, but he had to admit the Spymaster's pre-mission intelligence was staggering. All he had to do now was stick to the script, grease the squeaking wheels of the household administration, and he would slide right past the gates like a babe into a cradle.
The poor bastards inside wouldn't know any better. They couldn't.
"You lie."
Marcus paused, his hand freezing over his lapel. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" He offered a thin, dark smile, feeling a chuckle bubble up that didn't hold an ounce of actual mirth. "I could swear you just called me a liar, friend. Tell me, is that a hill you're truly eager to die on today?"
