"They're what?"
Theron stood in the doorway, face pale, clutching a torn piece of parchment.
"Gone, my lord," he said again, voice shaking. "The maps. They've been taken from your father's study."
I stared at him.
The maps. The only proof that the dungeon existed. The only way to save House Angelo.
Gone.
"When?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay level.
"I... I don't know, my lord. I went to retrieve them as you asked, and—" He gestured helplessly. "The drawer was open. Empty."
I stood slowly, every muscle tense.
"Who else knew about them?"
"I..." Theron hesitated. "Your father kept them secret, my lord. He didn't discuss the ruin with anyone except—"
"Except you," I finished.
His face went even paler. "My lord, I would never—"
"Then who?" I stepped toward him. "Who else had access to that study?"
Theron's hands trembled. "Only... only a few people, my lord. The Head Guard. The Head Maid. And myself."
Three people.
"Call them," I said. "Now."
***
Ten minutes later, they stood before me in the study.
The Head Guard was young, mid-twenties, broad-shouldered. Garret Stone. I recognized him from the game, minor character, loyal to a fault.
The Head Maid stood beside him, hands folded, posture perfect. Elara. Also from the game, though her role was murkier.
Mid-thirties, dark hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp eyes. Her uniform was immaculate, but she had the kind of presence that made men nervous. Dangerous and aware of it.
I caught myself staring and forced my eyes away.
Theron stood off to the side, wringing his hands, looking like he wanted to disappear.
"When was the last time either of you entered my father's private study?" I asked.
Garret answered first. "Only when summoned, my lord. Your father preferred privacy in that room." He paused. "The last time would have been... three weeks ago. He needed an escort to the archives."
Three weeks ago. Before my father died.
I turned to Elara. "And you?"
She met my eyes without flinching. "About a month, my lord."
I stared at her. "A month."
"Yes, my lord."
"He died a week ago."
At least, that's what happened in the game. I didn't know if it was true here.
Her expression didn't change. "Yes, my lord."
"So you're telling me you didn't clean his private study for *three weeks* before his death?"
A flicker of something crossed her face.
"I don't clean it regularly, my lord," she said carefully.
I kept my eyes on her. "Why not?"
"It's... it's a private space. Your father didn't like anyone disturbing his work."
I turned to Theron. "Advisor. What was her cleaning schedule for that room?"
Theron blinked. "I... I can't really say, my lord."
I stared at him.
He was the advisor. He managed the household staff, the finances, the security. He *absolutely* knew the cleaning schedules.
"You can't say," I repeated slowly.
"I don't involve myself in the maids' daily routines—"
"But you just told me only three people had access to that study." I kept my voice level. "You, the Head Guard, and the Head Maid. That means you controlled who went in there. So you must know her schedule."
Theron's face went pale. "I... perhaps I misspoke—"
And that's when it clicked.
I looked back at Elara. She stood perfectly still. Garret looked confused.
Why does it feel like Theron is covering for her?
I took a slow breath.
"Head Guard," I said quietly.
"My lord?"
"Arrest the Head Maid. Take her to the holding cells."
Elara's eyes widened. "My lord, I swear I didn't—"
"And place Advisor Theron under room arrest."
It was a gamble. If I was wrong, I'd just alienated my most experienced advisor. But if I was right...
Theron stepped forward, face flushed. "My lord, this is absurd! I've served your father for twenty years! I would never—"
"Be quick about it. I don't have all day," I said.
Garret hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. "As you command, my lord."
Theron's hands trembled. "Lord Cade, please. You're making a mistake."
He moved toward Elara. She didn't resist.
Theron opened his mouth again, but Garret was already guiding him toward the door.
***
After they were removed, Garret came back.
"My lord, it has been done."
"I need someone to go through the financial records. Someone who wasn't involved in my father's dealings."
He frowned. "An outside accountant, my lord?"
"Yes. Someone trustworthy. Can you find one tonight?"
He thought for a moment. "There's a merchant in town—Aldric Voss. He's done contract work for nobles before."
"Get him here. I want those ledgers scrutinized by dawn."
"As you wish, my lord. But if I may ask... why don't you suspect me?"
"Honestly? I don't. But if I discover a hint of betrayal, you'll end up like the rest. So it's either you help me now, or—"
"Yes, my lord. I'll find him tonight."
The door closed.
I let out a slow breath.
Fuck. All this trouble in day one.
If Theron was a traitor, if he'd been working with Viktor this whole time...
Then I've been playing right into Viktor's hands.
The ledger Viktor had given me sat there, mocking me with its neat rows of numbers.
Two hundred and fifty thousand gold.
Was any of it even real?
***
I was back in the main study when the door burst open.
Aldric Voss stood in the doorway, ledger in hand, face grim. He looked like he'd been up all night.
I'd only sent for him an hour ago. How had he found something this fast?
"My lord, you need to see this." He stepped inside and set the ledger on the desk. "I've compared the records House Velcross provided with your father's personal accounts."
"And?"
"They don't match. Not even close."
My blood went cold. "Explain."
"The ledger Viktor gave you lists a debt of two hundred and fifty thousand gold. But according to your father's records, he only borrowed one hundred and thirty thousand."
"That's a difference of—"
"One hundred and twenty thousand gold, my lord. Someone altered the records."
I stared at the ledger.
Viktor had fabricated half the debt.
And Theron must have known.
***
I walked toward the room where Theron was being held.
The guard bowed and opened the door.
Theron sat in a chair by the window, hands folded in his lap. He looked up when I entered, his face pale but composed.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
"My lord," he said quietly. "I swear to you, I didn't—"
I placed the ledger in front of him.
His eyes dropped to the page. The color drained from his face.
"You were sloppy with your work this time," I said. "I'm grateful for that."
Theron stared at it. His hands trembled.
"Well, I plan to have you executed for treason," I said, keeping my voice level. "Unless you give me a reason not to."
Silence.
Then, slowly, Theron's shoulders sagged.
"She made me do it," he whispered.
I leaned forward. "Who?"
"The Head Maid." His voice cracked. "Elara. She... she has seduction magic."