The night sky was dark, not allowing the stars to shine above as Damien's group made camp in a secluded grove, miles from Falcrest's stronghold. A dancing flicker of flame leaped on the gnarled trees, casting flickering shadows that reflected Damien's turmoil.
He sat on his own, the damning letters from Falcrest spread out. It was utterly illuminated for the diluting observer; they were regular shipments of gold, weapons, and supplies sent from House Falcrest to Reynard's forces through the approval and stamp of Elyas's scepter.
"This is the leverage we need," Damien muttered under his breath. But even as he said the words, a shadow of doubt lingered. That house's betrayal would surely shake the very fabric of the kingdom to its core, and exposure would turn the noble houses into a bedlam of chaos.
By this, Amara appeared right beside him, moving with her usual quiet grace. She settled down on the log across from him, her bright blue eyes catching the glow of the fire.
"Brooding still over those papers?" she asked him, tilting her head toward the letters.
"I'm thinking through the implication," Damien said wearied.
Amara smirked. "Well, most people would be reveling right now. You've got proof of Falcrest's treachery, and bang-a-solid blow on Elyas. That's a victory, my friend."
"It's a victory with implications," Damien replied. "Put this out, and it could open the kingdom into pieces. House Falcrest's allies won't take that betrayal lightly."
"And if we don't reveal it?" Amara butted in. "Falcrest just continues with its backing of Reynard, and the rebellion keeps dragging on."
Damien sighed, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "No choice, you're right."
Amara smiled. "There! That's the spirit. Now stop moping and figure out what to do next."
"What would I do without you?" Damien said, a very rare smile playing in his voice.
"Probably brood yourself to death," Amara quipped.
The next morning, Damien called a group meeting. Letters from Falcrest lay on a makeshift table in the middle of the camp. Firelight washed over the pages, promising plenty of evidence against them.
"We have the evidence we need to remove Falcrest's support of Reynard," Damien started, his voice level. "But you must understand that this comes at a price." Once we reveal this, we will be painted a target not only by Elyas but by allies of Falcrest as well."
Carys leaned forward, her green eyes sharp. "Sparks could easily fly for civil war among nobles."
"Yes," Damien said. "But if we do nothing, Elyas will keep using Falcrest to bolster Reynard's forces, giving strength to the rebellion and blood to be shed."
Loric crossed his arms, expression grim. "So break Falcrest and strike a dangerous gamble, or let Elyas move forward. And neither option is a pretty sight."
"Neither road is easy," Damien said. "But this is more than just halting the rebellion; it's about sending a message that no one is above justice, no matter how powerful."
Amara gives a cheeky grin. "I like this. Let's stir the pot."
Carys looked questioningly at Loric, then back at Damien. "All right, you have my support. But you have to act quickly. Once Falcrest realizes your intentions, they will strike back hard."
Damien nodded. "Then we move tonight."
---
The two groups split asunder and made their separate ways across the kingdom. They spread the evidence: Damien and Amara headed for Winterhold, where they presented the proof to the ruling council there. Carys and Loric ventured south, carrying copies to certain noble houses noted for neutrality.
As they prepared to depart, Damien pulled Amara aside.
"This will put us at the center of a storm," he said softly. "If you'd rather not be involved—"
"Stop," Amara said, cutting him off with a sharp look. "We're in this together, Damien. Don't start doubting me now."
Damien allowed himself a faint smile. "I never doubted you."
"Good," she said, her smirk returning. "Now let's get moving before I start thinking you're getting sentimental."
---
The way to Winterhold had been long and arduous, jagged rock and icy gales afflicting their travel. Still, they could not continue but forward, since they were set on hoping that Falcrest would not arrive there before them at the council.
When the people arrived, the city of Winterhold was bustling with activity, having readied its defenses since Reynard's attempted invasion. Merchants filled the streets alongside soldiers, all honing their defense against what would surely be an impending assault.
Damien and Amara led themselves to the council chamber - a great hump of stone and iron standing at the heart of the city. The guards there eyed them warily but stepped aside as they recognized Damien.
In the room, the chamber hummed with voices and whispers, as the council met in full assembly, the ruling lords and ladies of Winterhold sat at the long table, their expressions, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as Damien approached.
"Damien Vryce," Lord Garreth said, head of the council. "We weren't exactly expecting you."
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgent," Damien said curtly. "I have evidence that implicates House Falcrest in the rebellion."
The room was silent.
"What kind of evidence?" Lady Erynn asked sharply, her hair a silver that framed her angry face.
He set the letters on the table, though it could not help but ignore wax seals of House Falcrest. "These letters contain facts and figures regarding the financial and logistical support of Reynard forces by Falcrest. They have been funding the rebellion, arming militia, and spreading misinformation to break the forces of the crown."
The council leaned forward, their faces aghast and outraged as they read the letters.
"This is condemnation," Lord Garreth said. "If that is so, House Falcrest has committed treason of the highest order."
"It is so," Damien stated. "But this will not be enough to merely expose them. We must act immediately to sever their means and prevent them from further aiding Reynard."
Lady Erynn nodded. "Agreed. But we'll need to be careful. Falcrest's supporters won't take this lying down."
"Okay. But if we wait, more people are going to die."
"But if they don't --
As the council continued to discuss what their next move should be, Amara leaned in to Damien.
"Do you really think they'll do something?"
"They have to. If they don't, we'll find another way."
Amara smiled. "That's the Damien I know."
So it was decided, in the end of the meeting of the council: troops would be sent to seize Falcrest's assets and seize their supply lines; evidence would be distributed throughout other noble houses so that support against rebellion would increase.
As Damien and Amara stepped out of the chamber, the seriousness of the work they had done settled upon them.
"We made enemies tonight," Amara said.
"We made progress," Damien said.
Amara laughed. "I take that."
They spent that night in a small inn on the edge of Winterhold. Damien sat out the window; the fires of rebellion still burned bright, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could feel the tide turning.
Amara came to sit with him. She was calm, her presence steadying his nerves.
"You were good today," she said softly.
"So were you," Damien replied.
She tilted her head back, her smirk losing its teasing tinge to become a warm smile. "We're going to win this, Damien. I can feel it."
Damien nodded, his steel gray eyes filled with determination. "We will."
Together they stood silently, watching the city, the weight of their mission balanced by the hope of what lay ahead.