Power never announced itself.
It whispered.
Merlik led us to a balcony carved into the stone, overlooking the capital far below. From here, the palace looked peaceful—white towers, golden banners, a crown resting comfortably on a tired king's head.
"All of this," Merlik said, "was taken without a single battle."
Lucian crossed his arms. "Tell him how."
Merlik exhaled slowly.
"Caelum Vireth didn't seize power," he began.
"He positioned himself where power would fall."
The First Move — Fear
"The king was not weak," Merlik said. "He was grieving."
He glanced at me.
"When your mother died, the king lost more than a woman. He lost certainty."
Lucian's voice was low. "And the minister gave him something to hold onto."
"Fear," Merlik nodded. "Of war. Of rebellion. Of bloodlines he couldn't control."
Caelum whispered of plots that didn't exist.
Forged letters. Altered reports. Missing messengers.
Each lie small.
Each one plausible.
"By the time the king questioned him," Merlik said,
"the world already looked exactly like Caelum had warned."
The Second Move — Isolation
"The minister removed anyone who could contradict him," Merlik continued.
Generals reassigned.
Advisors disgraced.
Scholars accused of treason.
Not executed.
Discredited.
Lucian smirked darkly. "Cleaner that way."
"And effective," Merlik said. "Truth sounds insane when no one else is allowed to say it."
The king stopped hearing voices.
Until only one remained.
The Third Move — Dependency
"He solved problems he created," Merlik said.
"Stopped crises he engineered."
Each victory tied tighter knots.
The king began to ask:
What would Caelum do?
What does Caelum advise?
Not because he was stupid.
Because Caelum was always right.
I clenched my jaw. "So the crown became ceremonial."
Merlik nodded. "The minister ruled. The king signed."
The Fourth Move — Blood
Lucian went still.
"Your mother," Merlik said quietly, "was the last variable."
"She was loved by the people," Lucian said.
"She had lineage," I added.
"She had legitimacy," Merlik finished.
So Caelum moved fast.
He framed a betrayal.
Staged a secret meeting.
Placed witnesses where none should exist.
And when the king hesitated—
"He reminded him of war," Merlik said.
"Of what her blood could unite."
The king chose peace.
The minister chose permanence.
Silence followed.
The Final Move — The Crown's Blindfold
"After her death," Merlik said, "Caelum rewrote history."
New records.
New dates.
New enemies.
He blamed the Verdant Veil publicly…
while strengthening ties privately.
Lucian's voice was sharp. "So both kingdoms profit."
"From endless tension," Merlik nodded.
"Not war. Not peace."
A balance only one man controlled.
I looked down at the palace.
"At this point," I said, "does the king even know?"
Merlik didn't answer immediately.
"He knows something is wrong," he said finally.
"But not who to blame."
Lucian turned to me. "That's our opening."
Merlik's eyes narrowed. "Careful."
"If the lie collapses too fast," he said,
"the crown will choose the minister."
"Then we don't attack the lie," I said.
"We attack the hand that feeds it."
Lucian smiled. "Expose the pattern."
Merlik nodded slowly. "Documents. Witnesses. Timelines."
"And one undeniable truth," I added.
They both looked at me.
"That Caelum Vireth didn't protect the crown," I said.
"He replaced it."
The wind carried the sound of bells from the city below.
The king would soon wake.
The minister would soon move.
And for the first time in decades—
Someone was watching his hand.