Night tightened its grip around the embassy, folding the halls in long shadows and muffled quiet. Torches snapped softly in their brackets, but the dim glow did little to warm the stillness. After the tense day of messages, investigations, and shifting alliances, the silence felt wrong—like the pause before a blade strikes.
Daren sensed it first.
He was halfway down the corridor toward the archives, checking on the new cipher rotation implementation, when he heard it: a faint rustle, hurried and deliberate, not the wandering step of a clerk or a guard.
Someone was moving where no one should be.
He signaled two nearby guards, and together they approached the archives—slow, silent.
Another sound: the tiny crack of wax being broken.
Daren didn't hesitate.
He pushed open the door.
Inside, a figure froze at a desk, a lamp burning low beside him. His hands hovered over a sealed document—one bearing the sigil of the western command post. A stolen dispatch.
Tolliver Renn.
The timid clerk who could barely look captains in the eye. The same man whose forged orders Aira had discovered.
But now his eyes were sharp. Focused. Cornered.
Daren's voice cut through the tension.
"You were told not to handle any sealed documents outside your assigned rotation."
Renn didn't blink. His shoulders rose with a long, exhausted breath—as though he had been waiting for this moment.
"Captain Daren," he said softly. "I wondered how long it would take you."
The Capture
The guards stepped forward, but Renn didn't run.
He simply placed his hands on the desk and whispered, "I won't fight."
That alone chilled Daren more than resistance would have.
Renn was escorted to the secure chamber at the ground floor—a stone-walled room used for sensitive interrogations. Word moved quickly; Lysandra, Aira, Zelda, Serene, and Rhedon arrived minutes later.
Lysandra entered last.
Her presence shifted the room's gravity.
Renn lifted his gaze to her—and for a moment, something like regret flickered in his eyes.
Questioning Begins
Lysandra stood behind the table, hands clasped lightly.
"Tolliver Renn," she began, "you were found with a stolen military dispatch. You forged orders. You enabled an assassination attempt. Explain yourself."
Renn swallowed.
"I never meant harm to you personally, Your Majesty."
Aira slammed her palm onto the table. "You leaked secret letters to Asterfell. Soldiers died in that attack!"
Renn winced but didn't look at her.
"It wasn't supposed to be like that," he murmured. "Asterfell promised no deaths. They promised… order."
"Order?" Rhedon barked. "You think Mavren brings order? He brings conquest."
Renn closed his eyes.
"You don't understand. Valenfirth is weakening. We've been stretched thin. Our borders, our economy, our politics—factions pulling in every direction. We needed stability. A firm hand."
He looked directly at Lysandra.
"And with respect, Your Majesty… you are too young to command the lords. Too inexperienced to face the storm rising around us. I feared Valenfirth would collapse before winter."
Silence spread through the chamber like frost.
Renn drew a shuddering breath.
"So yes. I cooperated with Asterfell's envoy. I believed giving them leverage over us would force unity. Force discipline. Make our kingdom stronger—under external pressure."
Lysandra's expression remained unreadable.
Zelda stepped forward, voice low and dangerous.
"You betrayed your own kingdom because you doubted your ruler's age?"
"No," Renn snapped. "Because I doubted her ability to keep the kingdom alive."
His voice broke.
"And because Asterfell convinced me they could guide Valenfirth into a… structured alliance."
Serene's gaze hardened. "A structured alliance? You mean annexation."
Renn didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The Depth of the Plot
Daren leaned closer.
"Did you forge the reassignment orders the night of the attack?"
Renn hesitated, then nodded. "They dictated which posts needed clearing. I didn't know the attackers would be so ruthless."
"Who is 'they'?" Lysandra asked.
Renn closed his eyes.
"A diplomat. Asterfell's envoy attached to the trade mission last season. He called himself Marrek. Said he could guarantee Valenfirth's future if we helped expose… weaknesses in the current rule."
Zelda froze.
"Marrek hasn't been seen in months."
Renn nodded.
"He vanished. But the correspondence didn't stop. Letters arrived through disguised couriers. Instructions. Promises."
Aira stepped forward sharply, voice hard.
"And during the hearing, you fed them your empress's private words."
Renn looked ashamed—but resolute.
"They needed proof she was unstable. Indecisive. Someone the Union council couldn't trust."
Lysandra's jaw tightened—not in anger, but in something colder.
"And what did they offer you? Gold? A position in their new administration?"
Renn shook his head fiercely.
"No. I wasn't after money. I didn't care for power. I just… believed Valenfirth needed different leadership. That our people deserved someone who wouldn't hesitate."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I believed Mavren could provide it."
Lysandra's Judgment
The room erupted at once—Aira cursing under her breath, Rhedon demanding harsher punishment, Serene scribbling notes with stiff, furious strokes.
Only Lysandra remained still.
She circled the table slowly, stopping behind Renn.
"You believed Valenfirth would fall under my rule," she said quietly. "You believed Mavren's shadow would be better than my leadership."
Renn swallowed. "I believed… we needed certainty."
Lysandra leaned down slightly, her voice cold enough to cut stone.
"Traitors always speak of certainty."
Renn lowered his eyes.
"You will be imprisoned until we return to Valenfirth. There, you will stand trial before the High Court. Your cooperation may lessen the sentence—if you provide every detail of this conspiracy."
Renn nodded, defeated.
"It's all written," he said softly. "In my quarters. Letters, instructions… proof."
Daren stiffened. "We'll retrieve them immediately."
Renn's last words trembled with a hollow resignation:
"I never wanted the kingdom harmed… but fear makes fools of all of us."
The Aftermath—Asterfell's Real Move
Renn was escorted out, but the room remained thick with tension.
Rhedon crossed his arms. "Asterfell used him perfectly."
Zelda added, "And if they manipulated a palace clerk this deeply… they may have others."
Serene looked at Lysandra. "Your Majesty, the letters he saved might contain names."
Daren stepped closer. "Or proof that Asterfell is preparing the next attack."
Lysandra's eyes sharpened with sudden clarity—the kind that came only to leaders forged under pressure.
"No," she said. "Not preparing."
Everyone turned toward her.
"They're already moving. Tonight's infiltration was timed. While we focus on the traitor… Asterfell will make their next step."
Aira straightened.
"Then what do we do?"
Lysandra walked toward the map pinned to the far wall—the borders of Valenfirth marked with recent scout reports, Asterfell battalions shifting like a tightening noose.
Her voice was calm. Certain.
"We get ahead of them. We secure our borders, confirm our allies, uncover every remaining spy… and prepare for Mavren's next strike."
Her gaze hardened.
"Valenfirth will not fall. Not to fear. Not to treachery. And certainly not to a king who hides behind lies."
Daren stepped beside her.
"Your Majesty… we stand with you. Until the end."
The others nodded—Aira fiercely, Zelda solemnly, Rhedon with grim loyalty, Serene with quiet resolve.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distant sky.
A storm was coming.
But Valenfirth was no longer blind to it.
And its empress was no longer standing alone.