The chamber was silent but for the sound of crackling embers in the hearth. Prince Kael stood with his arms folded, his golden eyes hard and calculating as he stared down at the chessboard between them. The pieces remained untouched—locked in stalemate, just like their current situation.
Lord Halric sat across from him, his face unreadable in the firelight, but his fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the armrest of his chair.
"Gone," Kael said at last, his tone sharp. "And with him, every blade we once held to Rythe's throat."
Halric didn't reply. He didn't need to. The truth lay heavy in the room.
"No scandal. No shame," Kael went on, pacing slowly. "Not even a whisper of treason. He's cleaned his slate and set the boy loose across the sea with full honors, an emissary of the empire." His voice dropped into a sneer. "It would be laughable—if it weren't so infuriating."
"He's neutralized the boy," Halric said finally. "That much is true."
"More than neutralized," Kael snapped. "He's turned Aurean into a symbol—loyalty refined by fire. He's erased the sins we could use. The court now whispers of Rythe's strategy, not his cruelty. Of his discipline, not his weakness."
He stopped pacing and turned toward the older man.
"We've spent years shaping narratives, Halric. And with a few gestures, he's burned them all."
Halric's eyes narrowed. "Then we create new ones. If the court won't rise against Rythe from within…" He paused, a faint smirk curving his lips. "We bring pressure from without."
Kael stilled. "Vereth."
The name lingered in the air like a poisoned dagger.
Halric nodded. "He's long desired you to be on the throne and—to weaken Rythe's influence. And he's not fond of Rythe's growing favor with Virelia."
"He'll help if he thinks Rythe's success threatens his ambitions," Kael murmured, then smiled coldly. "And he already supports my ascension. Send word."
Halric reached for his personal seal and parchment.
"Tell him Aurean has been sent to Virelia on Rythe's behalf. That Rythe grows too ambitious—too secure. That Virelia may soon become more than just an ally. Let Vereth imagine trade slipping from his grasp, power drifting west."
He met Halric's eyes. "Let him panic."
Halric nodded, sealing the scroll with wax.
"And if he asks what we want?" the lord asked, slipping the message into a case.
Kael's voice was a whisper of steel.
"Destabilize Rythe. Shake the capital. Remind the empire how fragile trust is—even in golden sons."
The forest beyond the kingdom's borders was thick and silent, muffled by heavy fog and the soundless tension of treachery. Under the ancient boughs where moss hung like drapes and moonlight barely touched the ground, Prince Kael and Lord Halric waited.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter. "He said he would be here before moonrise."
Halric stood stiffly beside him, hands behind his back. "Vereth has always kept his promises. He'll come."
The name tasted like old trust. Vereth—Kael's longtime confidant, one of the few allies who had whispered bold dreams into his ear since youth. It was Vereth who'd urged him to claim what was "rightfully his." Who had offered foreign support. Power.
Kael turned sharply as the brush shifted.
From the shadows stepped Vereth, clothed in rich foreign garb, the crest of no known kingdom on his shoulder. He looked just as Kael remembered—handsome, confident, sharp-eyed. Yet something in the smile he wore now was colder, edged with finality.
"Kael. Halric," Vereth said smoothly, voice echoing unnaturally in the stillness.
"You received my letter?" Kael asked, stepping forward. "What news do you bring?"
Vereth nodded, approaching slowly. "Yes. I received your summons. But tonight, I bring something more valuable than news."
A sudden gust blew through the clearing—and from the trees and thickets emerged armed men in black, silent as ghosts. They circled, blades drawn, before Kael and Halric could so much as flinch.
A sharp shhnk of steel sounded, and cold blades were pressed to both their throats.
Halric swore.
Kael went rigid. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Vereth's gaze hardened, that faux-friendly smile vanishing. "You always were so easy to lead, Kael. That was your usefulness. You believed everything whispered into your ear. That you could be emperor. That your brother was your enemy. That I was your friend."
"You… you backed me," Kael breathed. "You said—"
"I said what you needed to hear." Vereth's voice turned to steel. "You were my wedge, my inside rot. But you were never meant to win. Rythe ruined that. He's stronger. Smarter. Less... emotional."
He paced closer, eyes gleaming with malice.
"Now, your purpose is complete. Killing you and dear lord Halric here will serve me better than any throne you'll never sit on."
"You'll never get away with this," Halric growled, struggling against the knife. "The empire will hunt you down."
Vereth's laughter was low and cruel. "Oh, but I won't be blamed. I'll have witnesses who saw Rythe riding out tonight. I'll leave markings that point to him. By dawn, the empire will tear itself apart, asking why the emperor's son murdered his own brother and an esteemed lord. And while they burn in suspicion, we will invade."
Kael's voice cracked. "Who… who are you working for?"
Vereth tilted his head mockingly. "And you think I'd tell you that now? You poor, naive prince."
He raised his hand, ready to give the final command.
But the forest exploded into motion.
A massive snarl shattered the silence as Bristle leapt from the undergrowth, fangs bared. The assassin nearest to Halric never had a chance—he was on the ground in seconds, his throat a mess of red. Fen followed, launching into the circle like a tempest, tearing through black cloaks and limbs.
From the dark rode Rythe, sword drawn, armor shining with the imperial sigil. Beside him, Lareth, silent and merciless, struck down two more assassins before they turned to react.
"Kael!" Rythe barked. "Down!"
Kael dropped instinctively as Rythe's sword flew past his ear, embedding into the chest of the man holding him.
Halric stumbled free as Fen slammed another assassin into a tree, the snap of bone echoing across the clearing.
"VERETH!" Rythe's voice cracked like thunder as he dismounted and stalked forward, eyes ablaze. "You dare touch my family?"
Vereth, bleeding and surrounded, snarled. "You should have stayed gone, Rythe."
"I never leave unfinished business," Rythe replied, swinging his blade up to Vereth's neck.
For a moment, it seemed Vereth would fight—but his men were downed, the hounds circling him. Lareth stood with a bloodied dagger beside Kael. Vereth dropped his weapon.
"I'll see you fall," Vereth hissed.
Rythe leaned close. "You'll see nothing where I'm sending you."
With a nod, Lareth bound Vereth's hands, gagged him, and hauled him toward a waiting horse.
Kael sank to his knees, stunned.
Rythe looked at him. "We'll talk later. If you're lucky, the emperor won't hear of this from me first."
And with that, Rythe turned, the hounds flanking him like shadows, dragging Vereth into the dark where traitors belong.