Dawn bled into Frostspire's courtyard as the von Einsbern carriages clattered through the gates, their wheels grinding over frost-stiffened gravel. Leofric stepped out first, crimson eyes sweeping the eerily pristine halls. "Robert's knights were here," he growled to the butler, his voice edged with disbelief. "Why is there no damage?"
The butler bowed, exhaustion lining his face. "We labored through the night, my lord. Young Lord William… assisted."
Leofric's eyebrow shot up. "William?" Behind him, Lyrielle's sapphire-blue eyes widened, Thalric scoffed loudly, and Theron's flames flickered in his palms.
In William's tower chamber, the air hung thick with the scent of ozone and old parchment. A knock cut through the silence. Aurelia entered without waiting, her ice-blue gaze piercing the dim light. "How long ago did you return?"
"Last night," William said, not looking up from sharpening Stormrend.
Aurelia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "The bandits on the northern pass—their corpses were charred to the bone. That was you."
William paused, the whetstone stilling. "Yes."
She hesitated, jaw tightening. "They weren't local. Hunt them with me. Their employer might still be nearby."
William met her stare, surprise flickering beneath his calm. Then, a ghost of a smile. "Fine."
Aurelia turned to leave, but not before muttering, "Try not to burn the forest down."
The royal courtroom in Astralis was a cage of cold marble and sharper gazes. The Lonalions stood at its center, Garios' mud-brown eyes burning with barely leashed fury, Ira's poison-green stare dissecting every shadow for answers, and James' iron-brown glare fixed on the throne.
"When will Robert grace us with his presence?" Garios barked at the knight captain. "Or does he enjoy wasting my time?"
The captain's hand tightened on his sword. "Question the emperor again, and I'll drag you to the dungeons myself."
James lunged, gauntlets crackling. "You fucking imperial lapdog—!"
The doors slammed open. Robert strode in, his amber eyes glinting like coins in a grave. Jacob followed, smirking, while Aldric lingered in the doorway, his shadowed amber gaze unreadable. The court bowed—all but the Lonalions.
Robert settled onto his throne, steepling his fingers. "What motivation drove you to assassinate the Count of Blackmoor?"
Garios' laugh was a growl. "Why kill a man who wanted to serve me?"
Robert's eyebrow arched. "The count was Leofric's vassal."
"He despised Leofric's arrogance. Came to me himself, begging for a master who listened."
Aldric stepped forward, his voice smooth as a blade's edge. "Collaborating with another duke's vassal is tantamount to declaring war. And Father"—he paused, letting the slip hang—"forbids open conflict between nobles. What should the emperor make of your… loyalty?"
The courtroom held its breath. Even the dust seemed to freeze.
The courtroom's silence thickened as Ira stepped forward, her poison-green eyes sharpening like daggers. "If we sought to kill the count," she said, her voice slicing the air, "would we be fools enough to leave our dagger in his chest?" She knelt abruptly, her posture rigid yet deferential. "Grant me time, Your Majesty. I will unearth the true culprit."
Aldric's smirk curled like smoke. "And why should we trust you? This reeks of desperation—a rat scrambling from a flood. For all we know, you'll bury the truth and sharpen a blade for the throne."
Ira's lips twitched—a flicker of fury swiftly smothered.
Robert leaned forward, his cunning smile sharp enough to draw blood. "Aldric speaks true… but I am merciful." The word dripped with irony. "One month, Ira Lonalion. Find your phantom culprit." He paused, savoring the air thick with anticipation. "Until then, the south's grain routes belong to the crown. Consider it… collateral."
Garios' face purpled, fists trembling at his sides, but Ira's voice rang out first. "I accept."
Aldric turned away, his whisper lost beneath the court's murmurs. "Quick-witted. Naive.
The gavel struck. The Lonalions left in a storm of scorn, Ira's mind already racing—hunting shadows.
The Lonalions stormed from the courtroom into the frigid courtyard, the marble pillars casting jagged shadows like teeth. Garios whirled on Ira, his mud-brown eyes blazing. "What madness possessed you?!" he snarled, spittle flying. "That serpent Robert has coveted our grain routes for decades, and now you've handed them to him!"
Ira met his fury with glacial calm, her poison-green gaze unflinching. "Patience, Father. I already have… suspicions." She adjusted her gloves, her voice softening just enough to placate. "It won't take a month to unravel this. Trust me."
Garios' fists trembled, earth magic fracturing the flagstones beneath him. But Ira's certainty hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. With a final growl, he turned, his cloak billowing like a stormcloud as he marched toward their carriage.
James lingered, iron-brown eyes narrowing. "This had better not bite us in the ass."
Ira didn't glance back. "It won't."
The Lonalion caravan rolled south to Verdantreach, the weight of Robert's smirk clinging to them like rot.
In the moonlit gardens of Sylvanthresh, Arutoria Duskborn reclined amidst night-blooming jasmine, a goblet of wine glinting like liquid shadow in her hand. The crunch of gravel announced Arthur's approach before he spoke. "You summoned me, Mother?"
She didn't turn. "Was it you?"
He froze mid-step, the scent of upturned earth suddenly overwhelming. "I don't—"
Arutoria rotated slowly, moonlight sharpening her moss-green stare into blades. "I asked: Was it you?"
Arthur's gaze dropped to the crushed petals beneath his boots. Her silence stretched until he whispered, "Yes."
"I—"
"Quiet." The word severed his voice like shears. Her goblet clicked against the stone as she stood. "You think secrets bloom in my gardens without my tending? What grows from this, Arthur? What rotten fruit will your 'plan' bear? Leave and think deeply about this Arthur."
Arthur left the garden, his shoulders stiff with unspoken defiance. Arutoria watched him go, the jade glow of her communication crystal flaring suddenly in her palm. A voice, smooth and laced with dark amusement, crackled through. "I knew you'd piece it together. You've always been the sharpest blade in the older generation."
Arutoria's smirk was faint but sharp. "Are you calling your father dull, William?"