CHAPTER VI
THE LIMIT OF NEUTRALITY
The first refusal came before dusk.
It arrived without seal or flourish, carried by a boy who had been instructed not to linger. A folded statement. Clean script. Careful wording. It declined nothing explicitly, but it committed to nothing at all.
Luciel read it once.
Then he set it aside.
Jayden watched him closely.
"That was deliberate," Jayden said.
Luciel nodded.
"Yes."
"They want to be seen not choosing."
"They want to be seen," Luciel corrected. "The rest is posture."
They stood in a narrow chamber overlooking the inner yard. Below, guards changed shifts with mechanical precision. No tension showed in their movements, which was itself a sign of strain.
Logan entered without knocking.
"They are following," he said.
Luciel did not ask who.
"Close," Logan continued. "Not enough to be accused. Enough to be known."
Jayden frowned.
"That seems reckless."
"It is," Luciel said. "Which means they believe restraint has expired."
Logan crossed his arms.
"The eastern guild has closed its ledgers early. The river ward doubled its watch without instruction. And the Hall of Records has sealed its lower vault."
Jayden looked between them.
"That is not neutrality."
Luciel's gaze remained steady.
"No," he said. "That is preparation."
A pause followed.
Then Jayden spoke more quietly.
"For what."
Luciel folded the letter once more, creasing it carefully.
"For being asked the wrong question."
Outside, the wind shifted. Snow pressed against the shutters, driven harder now, as though the storm had grown impatient.
Logan broke the silence.
"The Crown envoy will arrive within days."
Luciel nodded.
"They will be early."
Jayden's eyes sharpened.
"Then certainty returns."
Luciel shook his head.
"Certainty only belongs to those who arrive early," he said. "They will arrive in time to claim foresight."
Logan's mouth tightened.
"And blame."
"Yes."
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Not hurried. Not cautious.
Measured.
A knock followed.
Once.
Logan moved to the door and opened it halfway. A woman stood there, cloaked plainly, her hood dusted with snow. Her face was unfamiliar, which meant effort had been made.
She did not bow.
"Lord Vaelor," she said. "You are requested."
Luciel studied her.
"By."
"The southern delegation," she replied. "They wish to clarify their position."
Jayden exhaled softly.
"That did not take long."
Luciel inclined his head.
"Where."
"Not within the walls," the woman said. "They felt it would be improper."
Luciel's expression did not change.
"Improper to be witnessed," he said.
The woman did not deny it.
Logan spoke evenly.
"And if he declines."
"Then they will understand," she said. "And proceed accordingly."
Jayden stiffened.
"That is a threat."
Luciel answered calmly.
"No," he said. "That is relief disguised as leverage."
He turned back to Logan.
"Send word to the Hall of Records," he said. "That I am stepping outside the city."
Logan raised a brow.
"That will unsettle them."
Luciel nodded.
"That is the intention."
Jayden stepped forward.
"You should not go alone."
Luciel met his eyes.
"Then they would not speak honestly."
Jayden clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Luciel reached for his cloak. Still plain. Still unmarked.
At the threshold, he paused.
"Jayden."
"Yes."
"When they ask later where you stood tonight," Luciel said, "you will say you remained inside the city."
Jayden understood.
"And you."
Luciel looked out into the snow.
"I will say I listened."
Outside Frostgate's gates, the world waited differently. No walls to soften sound. No banners to blur intent. The road lay bare beneath fresh snow, every track visible, every step accountable.
The southern delegation stood beside their wagons. Fewer men now. Faces drawn. Patience strained thin.
The kneeling rider from before stood at their head.
He bowed this time. Lower.
Luciel stopped a few paces away.
"You wished to clarify," Luciel said.
The man nodded.
"We wish to be understood."
Luciel's reply was quiet.
"Then you should have arrived earlier."
The man swallowed.
"We feared choosing wrong."
Luciel's gaze did not waver.
"There is no choosing wrong anymore," he said. "Only choosing late."
Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Final.
The man spoke again.
"What does Frostgate intend."
Luciel answered without hesitation.
"Frostgate intends to remember," he said. "And to be remembered accurately."
The man's shoulders sagged.
"That will cost us."
Luciel nodded once.
"Yes."
Behind them, the wind carried the sound of the city's bells. Distant now. Muted by snow and stone.
Luciel turned back toward Frostgate, leaving the delegation standing in the open.
Behind walls, decisions could still be delayed.
Outside them, they already had weight.
And the world, having been forced to listen, was beginning to answer.