Get Pinch's help to mingle with the soldiers

You grin at Pinch. "This might be the last good chance you have to get me into trouble," you say. Making sure your attendants are safely out of earshot, you say quietly. "Think you could sneak me in as a fellow soldier?"

You watch his face change back to an expression of mischief you hadn't seen for years. "Why, your majesty, I'm surprised at you," he says evenly. "I'm a reformed character. But for old times' sake, I'm game."

You return his grin and keep your voice even. "Excellent."

"Helps that your bodyguard used to be an sergeant in the regiment," he says. "So..."

You walk a circuit of the gardens with Pinch and cook up a plan.

"All right, you'll be Rex, another inductee like me," Pinch says. "Here's how we'll do it."

That evening, three soldiers dressed in the livery of The King's Own depart the palace by a side door -- yourself, Pinch, and your bodyguard Lanks, who wears his black mustache in the Pheban style. With your hood up and your head cast down, you thread your way out of the royal precincts with no trouble.

The three of you make your way through the fringes of the barracks district, eating and drinking with the soldiers there. Lanks is known to some of them. He waves off any questions of "Aren't you working at the palace?" by showing off his uniform and taking another sip of his drink.

You get a sense that the soldiers serving under royal command are in good order and generally satisfied, though some chafe at the discipline and the lack of real action, to be quickly brought up short by the veterans. "You'll crave dullness when you see action, boy."

Some of the fellows know they'll be part of the escort for the royal progress of the new young King Bryce as he travels the kingdom, taking feudal oaths and visiting the Dukes and Counts of Itheria. There's a bit of joking about punishing wavering lords by having the King visit them long enough to drain their purses providing hospitality, and some joshing about the special qualities of ladies of different parts of the land. "Did you hear we've got some girl soldiers now? Company of archers. Wicked sharp. And sneaky. Won't hear them coming." There was a belly laugh and a retort from across the table. "Let me at 'em, you'll hear them coming!"

It's different, seeing and hearing soldiers away from exercises and parade. You get a sense of why your father had a reputation for spending time with his troops and wanting to know what they were thinking.

Lanks looks at the darkening sky above the cluttered alley after you leave the third establishment of tonight's tour.

"Pinch, tonight's initiation for the regiment's inductees," Lanks says. "That's you."

"Eh, right!" Pinch says.

"Can't be late, you'll be out on your ear," Lanks says.

"Me too?" you say. You're wearing the same uniform as Pinch.

Lanks frowns and pulls his mustache. "Well Rex," he says, looking at you. "The King's Own. They fight together, fuck together, each group of inductees is like a family of brothers, standing together. Tonight, the initiation, it's like being married to the regiment. Loyal to each other first. Is that the man you need to be?" he asks.

"My father?" you ask Lanks. "Did he?"

"Aye," Lanks says. "It was a grief to your mother. And a pride. And they were both with The King's Own, the night of the dragon." He twists his mustache, trying to take your measure. "Your father was loved and loyal. But Itheria could have done without a regency." He wipes his eye. "Your pardon."

"Your counsel is welcome," you say.

The three of you walk quietly together toward the barracks of The King's Own. Pausing at the end of the block you see the sentries look your way.

"Pinch's time," Lanks says. "Take you back up the hill, Rex?" he asks.