The grand hall of the palace stood eerily silent in the dead of night, its tall windows allowing faint moonlight to spill across the polished marble floors. Alaric sat alone at the head of a long table in the council chamber, surrounded by scattered papers and maps. Despite the stillness, his mind churned with the storm of recent revelations.
Lieutenant Brenwick's name echoed in his thoughts. Suspicious reports, a mysterious background, and a potential connection to their rival kingdom—it was too much to ignore.
Suddenly, the creak of the door broke his reverie. Roran slipped inside, his leather boots soundless against the floor. He carried a small satchel and wore an expression that was equal parts grim and determined.
"He's here," Roran said, his voice low.
Alaric straightened. "Brenwick?"
Roran nodded. "Edris brought him in quietly. He's being held in one of the interrogation chambers below. No one knows except for us and the guards directly involved."
Alaric stood, his jaw tightening. "Then let's see what he has to say."
---
The interrogation chamber was cold and dimly lit, with only a single torch on the wall casting flickering shadows. Lieutenant Brenwick sat shackled to a chair in the center of the room, his uniform disheveled and his expression defiant.
Alaric entered first, his royal robes brushing against the stone floor. Roran and Edris followed, their faces unreadable.
"Lieutenant Brenwick," Alaric began, his voice calm but firm. "Do you know why you're here?"
Brenwick's eyes flicked between them, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "I suppose this isn't a social visit."
"Answer the question," Edris barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Brenwick leaned back as far as his chains allowed, feigning nonchalance. "I imagine it has something to do with my recent reports. Missing supplies? Troop rotations? Or perhaps you've finally realized I don't belong here."
Alaric's eyes narrowed. "And why would you say that?"
"Because I'm not one of you," Brenwick said, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness. "I transferred from the Valtorian border, remember? A place where soldiers are treated as expendable pieces on a chessboard. I've seen things your palace guards couldn't even imagine."
"Enough with the theatrics," Roran interjected, stepping closer. "Your reports don't add up, and your movements have raised suspicion. If you're loyal to this kingdom, prove it."
For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed Brenwick's face. "I don't have to prove anything. I've served faithfully since the day I arrived. If supplies are missing, that's not my doing."
"Then whose doing is it?" Alaric pressed, his voice hardening. "Your name appears in every report connected to the discrepancies. Either you're incompetent, or you're complicit."
Brenwick's defiance faltered. His gaze dropped to the floor, and his hands clenched into fists.
"I'm being set up," he said finally, his voice quieter. "Someone's using me as a scapegoat. I don't know who or why, but I swear on my life I've done nothing wrong."
Alaric studied him, his instincts battling with logic. Brenwick's tone carried the ring of truth, but deception was a skill of its own.
Roran crossed his arms. "If you're innocent, you'll help us find the real culprit. Start talking."
Brenwick hesitated, then nodded slowly. "There's one thing… I noticed strange activity around the eastern garrison's supply depot a few weeks ago. Unfamiliar faces, people who didn't seem like soldiers. When I questioned them, they claimed to be merchants delivering goods, but something felt off."
"Why didn't you report this?" Edris demanded.
"I did," Brenwick snapped. "It's in one of the reports you're so fond of quoting. But no one followed up."
Alaric exchanged a glance with Roran. The pieces were beginning to form a pattern, but the picture was still incomplete.
"Who were these 'merchants'?" Alaric asked.
"I don't know their names," Brenwick admitted. "But they spoke with strange accents, not from around here. And their leader—he had a scar across his left eye. I heard one of them call him 'Kallix.'"
The name sent a ripple of recognition through the room.
"Kallix," Roran repeated. "He's a known smuggler, rumored to work with Valtoria's shadow network."
Alaric's mind raced. If Kallix was involved, this wasn't just a case of missing supplies—it was a calculated effort to weaken the kingdom from within.
---
After the interrogation, Alaric and his inner circle gathered in his private study. The room was lit by a single chandelier, its warm glow contrasting with the cold reality of their discussion.
"Do you believe him?" Roran asked, leaning against the desk.
"I'm not sure," Alaric admitted. "But if Kallix is involved, we have to act. We can't let this continue unchecked."
Edris frowned. "If Brenwick's telling the truth, someone higher up is orchestrating this. Kallix wouldn't operate so boldly without protection."
"Which means we're dealing with a traitor in a position of power," Alaric said grimly.
The room fell silent as the weight of the realization sank in.
"We need to move carefully," Roran said finally. "If we tip our hand too soon, whoever's behind this will vanish like smoke."
Alaric nodded. "Agreed. But we also can't sit idle. Roran, I want you to dig deeper into Kallix's network. Find out where he operates and who he answers to. Edris, double the guard presence at the eastern garrison and secure the supply depots. No more excuses."
"And what about Brenwick?" Edris asked.
"Keep him under watch," Alaric replied. "If he's innocent, he'll help us. If he's lying, we'll catch him soon enough."
---
That night, as Alaric sat by the window of his chamber, staring out at the moonlit city, a knock came at the door.
"Enter," he called, expecting Roran or Edris.
Instead, Liliana stepped inside, her expression troubled.
"You look exhausted," she said softly, sitting beside him.
"I feel it," Alaric admitted.
She hesitated, then placed a hand on his arm. "I heard about Brenwick. Do you think he's the traitor?"
"I don't know," Alaric said, his voice weary. "He could be a pawn, or he could be the mastermind. Either way, this conspiracy runs deeper than I thought."
Liliana frowned. "Do you think Father faced these kinds of threats when he ruled?"
Alaric gave a bitter laugh. "I'm sure he did. He just never told us. Perhaps he thought he was protecting us, or maybe he didn't trust us to understand."
"Do you trust me to understand?" she asked, her gaze piercing.
Alaric looked at her, his heart heavy. "I trust you, Liliana. More than anyone."
"Then let me help," she said fiercely. "You don't have to bear this alone."
For a moment, Alaric considered refusing. He wanted to shield her from the darkness threatening their kingdom. But he knew she was right. They were stronger together.
"Alright," he said finally. "But promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," she said, a determined glint in her eyes.
As she left, Alaric felt a flicker of hope amid the storm. He wasn't alone in this fight—and with allies like Liliana, Roran, and Edris, he was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
The game of shadows had begun, and Alaric was ready to play.