The night air was thick with tension as Alexander and Tyrell crouched behind a ridge overlooking the old quarry. The trap was set.
Lyle's confession had given them their best lead yet—a dead drop location used by Vale's spies. If they played this right, they wouldn't just catch the courier. They would unravel the rest of Vale's spy network.
Alexander turned to Tyrell. "Are your men in position?"
Tyrell gave a sharp nod. "Three teams surrounding the area. If anyone so much as breathes too loud, we'll hear it."
Silas exhaled. "Let's just hope the rat shows up."
The Waiting Game
The hours crawled by. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the abandoned quarry.
Then—movement.
A lone figure emerged from the treeline, hood pulled low.
Alexander motioned to his men. Hold.
The courier moved swiftly, heading toward a stack of old crates near the ruined shed. He crouched, feeling along the ground—looking for the drop.
The moment he reached for it, Alexander gave the signal.
Tyrell's men sprang from the shadows, cutting off any escape routes. The courier froze, his hand going for a knife.
But before he could react—Tyrell tackled him to the ground.
"Got you," Tyrell growled, twisting the man's arm behind his back.
The courier struggled, but was quickly subdued. Elias stepped forward, sword drawn.
"Who sent you?" Elias demanded.
The courier spat on the ground. "You already know."
Silas crouched beside him. "Then let's skip the formalities. Who else is working for Vale inside Emberhold?"
The man just smirked. "You think catching me means you've won?"
Alexander studied him carefully.
Too calm. Too confident.
Something wasn't right.
That's when one of Tyrell's men sprinted toward them, out of breath.
"My lord—we have a problem."
The Spy's Last Gamble
Back in Emberhold, one of Vale's spies was making a run for it.
The guard Tyrell's scouts had suspected—a man named Harlan—had panicked. The moment the courier didn't return, he realized something had gone wrong.
Instead of waiting for discovery, he made a desperate choice—escape.
But escape meant exposure.
By the time the alarm was raised, Harlan had already reached the outer perimeter of Emberhold.
The Chase Through Emberhold
"Block the gates!" Marcus barked as guards scrambled to close the main exit.
Harlan bolted through the streets, knocking over barrels and crates, trying to lose his pursuers.
But Tyrell's scouts were faster.
They cut through alleys, anticipating his movements. By the time Harlan reached the western wall, a group of warriors had already cut off his exit.
Desperate, he turned and ran toward the forge district.
But Alexander was already waiting.
Cornered
Harlan skidded to a stop, his eyes darting between the armed men surrounding him.
"You can't stop it," he panted. "Vale is too strong."
Alexander didn't even blink. "That's where you're wrong."
Harlan drew a dagger—a last act of defiance.
It didn't matter.
Before he could lunge, Elias struck him across the head with the hilt of his sword.
Harlan crumpled to the ground.
Alexander crouched beside him. "You're going to answer my questions."
Harlan spat blood. "You think you've won?" He grinned, even as he struggled to stay conscious. "Vale isn't done."
Silas crossed his arms. "Then let's make sure you are."
The Interrogation
Harlan was bound and dragged into a secured chamber beneath the war room.
Alexander stood over him, arms crossed. "You work for Vale."
Harlan remained silent.
Silas sighed. "We already know about the network. We know about the courier. We know about Lyle. The only thing we don't know… is how much longer you're willing to keep bleeding."
Harlan glared up at him.
"You think this changes anything?" he scoffed. "You think Vale doesn't have more men?"
Tyrell leaned forward, eyes cold. "Then tell us. Who are they?"
Silence.
Alexander nodded at Elias.
Elias grabbed Harlan by the collar, slamming him against the stone wall. "You can either talk to us… or you can keep testing my patience."
Harlan's breathing quickened. He knew he had no way out.
Finally, he muttered, "There are more of us. We pass messages through supply shipments, hidden in cargo. Merchants—some of them work for Vale. Some of them don't even know they're carrying information."
Alexander exchanged a glance with Silas.
"Names."
Harlan swallowed.
"I only know a few. Two merchants in Emberhold. A blacksmith. One of the builders working on Ironridge. They're Vale's eyes."
Silas grinned. "Not anymore."
Vale's Countermove – The Final Blow
Meanwhile, back in Vale's castle, Baron Devrin entered the chamber with urgency.
"They've caught Harlan," Devrin reported. "And the courier."
Vale did not react immediately. He simply stared at the map before him.
"So they've rooted out my spies," he said quietly.
Devrin nodded. "Maxwell's countermeasures are working. We've lost our best informants."
Vale closed his eyes for a moment. Then, finally, he sighed.
"It was only a matter of time."
He turned to Devrin.
"Have the mercenaries been contacted?"
Devrin hesitated. "You're really going through with this?"
Vale's expression darkened.
"If spies won't break him… then steel will."
The New Threat
Back in Emberhold, Alexander reviewed the latest reports.
The network was collapsing. One by one, Vale's informants were either captured or executed.
For the first time in weeks, The Maxwell Dominion had secured its borders.
But as Alexander stood at the watchtower, staring out across the dark horizon, he felt it.
A shift.
A new danger on the horizon.
Silas joined him, arms crossed. "We've dealt with the spies. But something tells me Vale isn't done yet."
Alexander's gaze remained fixed on the distant lands beyond their walls.
"No," he murmured. "He's not."
And he was right.
Because beyond the forests, unseen by Emberhold's patrols, a force was gathering.
Vale's mercenaries were on the move.
And this time, they weren't coming in the shadows.
They were coming with swords drawn.