The discovery of the Church's control over the iron vein gnawed at Elias. It wasn't merely wealth; it was leverage over the kingdom's military might, the very backbone of its defense. His mental blueprint for dismantling Montala deepened, becoming a complex web of economic and political vulnerabilities. His coded vellum filled with new, urgent symbols, depicting the iron's journey from mine to Church coffers, bypassing the Duke's treasury.
Valerius, meanwhile, had grown quieter, a new, unsettling patience settling over him. His direct tests ceased, replaced by a pervasive, almost psychological surveillance. Elias felt his presence like a cold shadow, a silent observer whose gaze seemed to follow him even when unseen. This increased vigilance from Valerius only heightened Elias's paranoia, forcing him to become even more meticulous in his facade, every childish giggle and clumsy movement a deliberate act of misdirection.
The Duke himself became a new focus of Elias's observation. The man was visibly strained. His private conversations, often overheard by Elias as he feigned play in the adjacent rooms, increasingly revolved around dwindling resources, the cost of maintaining the Duke's guard, and the Prince's ever-growing demands for "contributions" to the crown. The irony was not lost on Elias: the Prince was bleeding the Duke dry, while the Church, supposedly a benevolent spiritual guide, was hoarding the very resources needed for the kingdom's stability. The Duke's genuine distress, his quiet sighs, painted a picture of a loyal but increasingly desperate man.
Seraphina, ever the unwitting informant, confirmed his suspicions. One afternoon, while reviewing a map of trade routes for a geography lesson, she pointed to a path leading from the eastern iron mines. "Father says the Church ensures the safe passage of the ore caravans," she remarked innocently. "But sometimes, the caravans are smaller than expected, even if the tithes to the Duke remain the same. It makes Father worried about the bandits."
Elias inwardly scoffed. Bandits, or merely the Church's subtle redirection? He etched "LEAKAGE" onto his vellum, next to the symbol for iron. The Church wasn't just controlling the supply; they were siphoning it.
This confirmed the Montala Church was deliberately weakening the Duke's family, and by extension, the kingdom itself, ensuring their continued dependence. The Duke's desperation was an opportunity. Elias began to formulate a plan: he needed to find a way to subtly expose these economic machinations to the Duke, without revealing his own hand. He couldn't simply present a ledger. He needed an organic, undeniable way for the Duke to discover the truth for himself.
His mind worked feverishly. How could a child, unable to write complex reports or engage in overt political maneuvering, plant the seeds of doubt in a powerful noble's mind? It would require incredible subtlety, perhaps a carefully orchestrated "accident" or a "childish mistake" that would lead the Duke to question the Church's narrative.
The weight of this new strategy pressed down. He was no longer just a survivor or an intelligence gatherer. He was a silent saboteur, slowly preparing to undermine a millennia-old power structure. The loneliness of this burden was immense, but the burning resolve to free this world from the engineered darkness outweighed all else. The first steps in his new would need to be meticulously calculated, for any misstep could lead not just to exposure, but to the crushing of his ultimat purpose.