Blitzkrieg crouched in the rafters of the empty throne hall and counted the nine empty chairs below. Each chair belonged to a villain who had helped murder his father, and each villain now hid somewhere in Dynastyland. Whoever killed all nine would take the throne and rule as Leader. Blitzkrieg had trained six years for this. He had the speed, the blades, and the hatred. He did not have a single name. Without names, he could not hunt. Without hunting, he would be the one found first, and he knew it. He had come to the hall because rumor said the old steward still fed a creature that once served his father. If any thing in this palace remembered the nine faces, it would be that creature. He dropped to the marble and waited. A sleek ocelot stepped from behind the largest chair, tan fur marked with soft gray-blue rosettes. It stared at him with green eyes and did not run. Blitzkrieg knelt and held out his open hand. "You knew him," he said. The ocelot walked past his fingers to the base of the third chair, sat, and scratched twice at a loose tile. Blitzkrieg pried the tile up. Beneath it lay a folded strip of leather. He opened it and read nine names inked in his father's hand, each name followed by a city. The list ended his first problem and began his next. The steward's lamp brightened in the corridor outside. Someone was coming, and Blitzkrieg was holding the one document nine powerful people would kill to erase. He tucked the leather into his coat, lifted the ocelot under one arm, and ran for the servants' door.