Chapter 85: I intend to warn

By the time the court had thinned and the formal voices were replaced with hurried whispers in backrooms, the real game began.

High Chancellor Merwin leaned over a polished oak table in the west chamber, maps and coded letters laid bare before him. The candlelight danced against the metallic edges of his chain, but the man’s thoughts were sharper than the blades it reflected.

Across from him sat Minister Elric Vance, young, ambitious, and increasingly dangerous. He was not of noble birth but had clawed his way through bureaucratic shadows and quiet betrayals.

"There’s unrest at the southern borders," Merwin began without looking up.

"There’s always unrest," Elric replied, too easily.

"Not like this," Merwin said, tapping a sealed letter. "The merchants whisper of a ’bidding war’ for the grain fields. Foreign names. Foreign coins. And no oversight."

Elric narrowed his eyes. "You’re suggesting there’s internal collaboration?"

"I’m saying," Merwin leaned back, "someone within our court is letting another kingdom eat at our underbelly. Like termites beneath silk walls."

Meanwhile, in the eastern wing of the estate, Lady Beatrice stood near an open window, her expression unreadable. She had received Lilian’s coded note the day prior, thinly veiled orders buried within praise and pleasantries.

Lilian’s words were clear: Keep the girl contained. Do not let her out of your sight. She may look harmless, but she is not.

Beatrice sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of the window frame. She had obeyed Lilian for years, out of loyalty and calculation. But ever since Liora had arrived, something about the girl unsettled her, not because she posed a threat but because Lucien had begun to look at her like he used to look at...

No. That was a different time. A different woman.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

Samuel stepped in, his tone clipped. "My lady. A message. Lord Rowan intercepted it...intended for Minister Elric."

Beatrice took the parchment and read it. Then she read it again.

Her lips parted slightly. "This... this changes everything."

Down in the servants’ quarters, Rowan lit a lantern and looked at the faint map he had sketched over days, each mark denoting a meeting, a whispered bribe, or a missing record.

"Too many patterns," he muttered. "And someone’s watching the watchers."

A knock.

It was Liora.

"You shouldn’t be here," Rowan said, alarmed.

"I need to know what Beatrice saw," she replied, voice calm but firm.

Rowan hesitated, then handed her a different letter. "She’ll show you nothing. But I took this. The seal’s gone. Look."

Liora read.

Her stomach dropped.

Minister Elric was planning a delegation to the south with royal funding under the guise of ’tax inspection’. But among those listed in the travel party were two names recently spotted near the border. Foreign agents.

She looked at Rowan. "Does Lucien know?"

"Not yet," he said. "He’s at tonight’s military briefing."

"Then we need to tell him before it reaches the king."

They didn’t say it out loud, but both knew: if Alden discovered this first, he’d move swiftly and recklessly. And in doing so, he’d tear down anyone standing too close to the fire.

Lucien stood before the war table, the scent of wax, ink, and faint steel filling the dimly lit chamber. Maps stretched across the surface, border lines marked in faded red and recent ink.

General Yvain pointed to a new route. "They’ve opened a trade road through here, bypassing the official customs. We suspect it’s being used to smuggle both coin and influence."

Lucien folded his arms, eyes narrowing. "And Elric’s name?"

The general exchanged a brief glance with another officer before nodding. "It appears on the funding charter. He’s using the Crown’s seal to approve the passage."

Lucien’s jaw tensed. "He’s walking treason’s edge under Alden’s nose."

Samuel entered without ceremony, holding a folded letter. "Intercepted again. This one didn’t go through Beatrice."

Lucien took it. Read it. Then he handed it silently to the general.

A moment later, he said, "Get me an audience with the king. Before Elric does."

"But if you go to Alden directly..." the general began.

"I don’t intend to accuse," Lucien interrupted. "I intend to warn. Let him make the mistake of ignoring it."

In the estate, Liora stood before Beatrice, her eyes steady.

"You knew," she said quietly. "About the delegation."

Beatrice didn’t respond at first. Then she turned to the girl. "I know you believe I’m here to destroy you, girl. But I’m not your enemy."

"You serve Lilian," Liora shot back.

"I do," Beatrice admitted. "But I also know how quickly a pawn becomes a casualty in her games."

Liora blinked.

Beatrice handed her a sealed scroll. "If something happens to me... give this to Lucien. Not before."

"What is it?"

"Proof," Beatrice said simply, "that even the most loyal can bleed."

Back in the capital, Alden sat high on his throne, bored but trying not to show it as another noble droned on about wheat yields and livestock prices.

Then came the shift.

A palace aide stepped up, whispering something in Alden’s ear.

He stilled.

His voice dropped. "Bring them in."

Lucien was escorted into the court, followed by Rowan and General Yvain.

Alden’s brow lifted. "So soon, brother?"

Lucien bowed but didn’t kneel. "Your Majesty, we’ve uncovered an internal scheme. There’s an attempt to redirect royal funds to empower a foreign-linked faction in the south."

A hum of murmurs swirled through the court.

Alden waved a hand. "Name them."

Lucien didn’t hesitate. "Minister Elric Vance. Acting with at least two unnamed nobles."

Gasps. A sharp intake from somewhere behind the curtain.

Alden leaned forward. "Do you have proof?"

Rowan stepped forward, laying the coded charter and seal on the court scribe’s desk.

But Alden’s gaze stayed locked on Lucien. "And if this is fabricated?"

"Then remove my title. Strip me of what remains," Lucien said, voice firm. "But if I’m right, let your justice fall swift and public."

The room went silent. Alden stood.

"The court shall reconvene at dawn. Until then, Elric Vance is to be held under guard."

The hall erupted into movement, and Lucien turned to go.

But Alden’s voice stopped him.

"Lucien." He glanced back.

"You’re either a savior," Alden said softly, "or a fool with a death wish."

Lucien gave a faint smile. "Perhaps both."

The royal dungeons were colder than the air outside, and Elric Vance had never felt anything quite like humiliation until now. His robes had been stripped, his rings confiscated, and the iron bars mocked him more than any man could.

"I demand a hearing before the full council," he spat.

The guard didn’t respond.

In another wing of the estate, Beatrice lit a single candle and locked the door behind her. Her hand trembled slightly as she unfolded the copy of correspondence she had hidden from Lilian. The seal was the Queen Dowager’s, but the writing beneath it was not her usual style. Lilian’s commands were normally curt and calculated. This was emotional. Almost... urgent.

"Move the girl. Make her break. If she doesn’t serve as leverage, she must serve as a loss."

Beatrice’s mouth went dry. The girl. Liora.

Something wasn’t right. And for the first time in years, she didn’t know where her loyalty belonged.

Back in Lucien’s estate, Liora stood in front of Rowan with an iron gaze. She had seen too much and heard too much to be content remaining a quiet concubine in waiting.

"You said the South Road is compromised," she said.

Rowan blinked. "That wasn’t meant for your ears."

"I’m not deaf," she replied. "Or stupid. If someone’s using that route to move soldiers or arms, I want to know who benefits. And I want to help."

Rowan studied her, cautiously impressed. "What makes you think we’d let you anywhere near it?"

"Because I’m not afraid," Liora said. "And I know how to listen where men tend to talk too much."

He considered this. "You’re not a spy, Liora."

"No. But I could be something better," she said. "A shadow."

At the palace, Alden met with the three senior ministers in a locked chamber. Among them was Chancellor Oran, a man with weathered skin and blood-red robes. He spoke rarely, but when he did, ears turned.

"Elric’s actions reek of desperation," Oran said. "But someone gave him reason to act."

"You think it wasn’t him at the center?" Alden asked.

"I think he’s the edge of a blade, not the hand holding it," the chancellor replied.

Minister Harlan, tall and silver-haired, frowned. "Then we cut off the hand. But we must find it first."

Lucien returned to the estate after dusk, boots muddy and shoulders tense. As he passed the inner corridor, Liora stepped into his path.

"You’re back," she said.

He nodded. "The king listens, but only just. Tomorrow decides Elric’s fate."

"And ours?" she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

"There’s something else," she continued. "Beatrice gave me a scroll. Told me not to open it unless she disappears."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. "What’s on it?"

"I haven’t read it," she admitted. "But I think it has to do with Lilian."

Lucien exhaled slowly. "Then we’re closer to the root than I thought."

He reached for her hand not out of romance but solidarity.

"We’ll open it together," he said.

And for a moment, in the flickering candlelight, the war they were all fighting seemed a little more visible.

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