CHAPTER SIX
Kol 9102 - Fifth Day of the Second turn of Oathmarch
The palace woke to a new kind of fear.
Not the fear of war horns.
The fear of paper.
A seal on the wrong door, A name on the wrong ledger, A question asked by the wrong man, Arthur didn't announce arrests, He announced audits and in Deialger, an audit was just a polite word for a blade held close to the throat.
The Medical Wing
Fino Redwood's wing smelled like herbs, boiled cloth, and old prayers.
The Lord of Medicine had built a reputation on calm hands and softer words healers loved him because he argued for supplies, nobles tolerated him because he kept them alive, and the Church respected him because he never spoke against them.
Today, none of that mattered.
Arthur arrived with two Obsidian Knights and four palace guards.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just enough steel to make every healer in the corridor suddenly remember an appointment somewhere else.
Fino stepped out of his office the moment he heard boots.
He bowed quickly.
"My prince," he said.
Arthur didn't return the bow.
He held out a rolled document with the royal seal pressed deep into wax.
"A medical audit," Arthur said.
Fino's eyes flicked to the seal. "That isn't your authority."
Arthur's gaze stayed flat. "It is now."
Fino swallowed.
Arthur walked past him into the office without being invited.
Fino followed because he had no choice.
Inside, Arthur laid the audit order on Fino's desk and placed a ledger beside it.
Royal Medical Register (Last 6 Months)
Fino's throat tightened.
Arthur opened to a page that had already been marked.
"Explain this," Arthur said.
Fino leaned forward slowly.
Christina's father had been right there it was.
Fino Redwood's seal, approving restricted access to the Empress's wing.
Fino's mouth went dry. "Those restrictions were necessary."
Arthur's voice stayed calm. "Necessary for what?"
"To protect the Empress," Fino said quickly. "Infections, she was weak"
Arthur leaned in slightly. "My mother lived through the poison rituals and battlefield plagues, Lord Redwood. You're telling me she died because of infection control?"
Fino's hands trembled once. He hid it by clasping them.
"The Empress's body was failing," Fino said. "We did what we could."
Arthur's eyes didn't move.
"Who ordered the restrictions?" Arthur asked.
Fino hesitated.
Arthur's tone didn't change, but the air did.
"Answer," Arthur said.
Fino's lips parted, then closed again.
Arthur's hand drifted to his sword hilt.
Not drawing.
Just resting.
A warning.
Fino exhaled shakily. "The Church advised caution."
Arthur's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Which Church official?" Arthur asked.
Fino's gaze dropped. "A priest."
Arthur waited.
Fino's jaw tightened.
Arthur's voice went softer, colder. "Name."
Fino whispered, "Father Halden."
The name meant little to Arthur.
But the word Father meant everything.
Arthur straightened slowly.
"So," Arthur said, "the Church asked you to lock my mother away, and you did it."
Fino raised his head, desperate. "It wasn't like that"
Arthur cut him off.
"Was my mother allowed visitors?" Arthur asked.
"Yes. some"
"Who decided who counted as 'some'?" Arthur asked.
Fino's voice cracked. "I did."
Arthur nodded once, like a judge receiving a confession.
"And did the emperor know?" Arthur asked.
Fino froze.
Arthur stepped closer.
"Did he?" Arthur repeated.
Fino swallowed so hard his throat visibly moved. "The Trident was informed."
Arthur's eyes hardened.
Not surprise.
Confirmation.
Arthur turned toward the door.
"Seal this wing," Arthur ordered. "No healer leaves. No records move. Anyone who resists is detained."
Fino's eyes widened in horror. "My Prince, you can't"
Arthur faced him again, voice dangerously calm.
"I can," Arthur said. "And you're going to help me."
Fino shook his head. "You're making an enemy of the Church."
Arthur's lips curled faintly.
"The Church made an enemy of me," Arthur said.
The corridor outside had filled with nervous whispers.
Then the whispers died.
A single figure approached white-gold Armor, mimicking the Deialger's, radiant insignia, sword sheathed but visible, every step loud enough to announce authority.
A Lightbringer.
He stopped in front of Arthur like a man blocking a doorway to a temple.
"Prince Arthur Deialger," the Lightbringer said through a calm, muffled helm. "You are interfering with sacred medical practice."
Arthur looked at him like he was looking at a Highkin on the battlefield.
"This is my palace," Arthur said. "And you are in my way."
The Lightbringer's voice remained measured. "The Empress's care was under Church guidance. Your actions violate our covenant."
Arthur's gaze sharpened. "Covenant?"
The Lightbringer lifted his chin slightly. "The covenant that grants the Deialger line legitimacy under the Radiant Order."
Arthur smiled faintly.
It was not a happy smile.
It was the smile of a man realizing the leash had been visible the whole time.
"So that's it," Arthur said softly. "You think you made my blood holy."
The Lightbringer's posture tightened. "Your blood is holy."
Arthur's hand tightened on his hilt.
For a heartbeat, Sam's warning echoed in his skull.
Focused men do terrible things and call it duty.
Arthur exhaled slowly and released the hilt barely.
"I'm auditing records," Arthur said. "Not burning your churches."
The Lightbringer didn't move. "Release Lord Redwood from your custody."
Arthur took a step forward, closing the distance until the Lightbringer's aura of authority didn't matter.
"No," Arthur said.
Silence.
Then the Lightbringer's hand moved toward his sword.
Not drawing.
But enough.
Arthur's eyes turned lethal.
The air felt like it tightened around them.
And then
A soft voice cut through the steel.
"Arthur."
Christina.
She approached from the far corridor, mourning silk flowing behind her like shadow. Julie trailed behind her, pale-faced, clutching a folded note.
Christina didn't look at the Lightbringer first.
She looked at Arthur.
And her face carried the expression of a wife worried for a husband.
A performance.
Perfect.
"My love," Christina said softly, "this is happening too publicly."
Arthur's jaw tightened. "I don't care."
Christina's eyes softened, but her voice carried a sharper underlayer meant only for him.
"Then let me care for you," she murmured. "Because if the Church turns this into spectacle, the trident will blame you and they'll survive it."
Arthur's eyes flicked briefly.
He understood.
Christina turned finally to the Lightbringer and bowed her head politely.
"Honoured Lightbringer," she said. "My husband's grief is sharp. Forgive his harshness. The palace is… adjusting."
The Lightbringer's helmet angled toward her.
"You speak wisely, Princess."
Christina's smile was gentle.
"She always does," Arthur said coldly.
Christina didn't flinch.
She stepped closer to Arthur and placed the folded note in his hand, pressing it into his palm as if it were comfort.
It wasn't.
It was direction.
Arthur opened it with one hand.
Two lines of neat writing.
Healer Mera. Night kitchen runner. Last seen by laundresses.
Jack Corvus has been asking questions.
Arthur's eyes lifted slowly.
He looked at Christina, and for the first time since his return, there was something like respect in his stare.
Christina leaned close, whispering so only he could hear.
"Not here," she murmured. "Not today. Pull the thread where it snaps clean."
Arthur's nostrils flared.
Then he turned back to the Lightbringer.
"Lord Redwood remains here," Arthur said evenly. "But he is not harmed. He cooperates, or he is removed from office by the crown's authority."
The Lightbringer's voice tightened. "You cannot remove a man blessed by the Order."
Arthur's smile returned thin as a razor.
"Watch me," Arthur said.
The Lightbringer held still, then lowered his hand from his sword.
"This will be reported," he said.
Arthur nodded once. "Good."
The Lightbringer turned and walked away, Armor flashing in the candlelight like a warning.
Christina watched him go.
Then she turned her head slightly, just enough for Julie to see her expression.
Julie trembled harder.
Because Christina wasn't afraid.
She was calculating.
Later that evening, Christina sat in her sitting room with a cup of untouched tea.
Julie stood near the door, hands clenched around her skirt.
Christina spoke calmly, as if assigning a household chore.
"You're going to deliver a message," Christina said.
Julie swallowed. "To whom, your highness?"
"To someone who talks," Christina replied. "Someone who cannot keep his mouth shut even if it costs him teeth."
Julie's eyes widened. "Spencer Metaforger?"
Christina smiled faintly. "Exactly."
Julie hesitated. "But... your highness"
Christina's voice turned gentle. "Do you know why kings die, Julie?"
Julie shook her head.
"Because they believe silence is safety," Christina said. "It isn't. Silence is a blindfold."
She set a small, sealed note on the table.
"Take this," Christina said. "Tell Spencer you overheard it from palace guards, Tell him you were scared and didn't know who to trust."
Julie stared at the note. "What does it say?"
Christina's eyes stayed calm.
"Enough truth to be believed," she said, "and enough poison to spread."
Julie's voice cracked. "Who will it hurt?"
Christina didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, softly:
"The right people."
Julie's hands shook as she took the note.
"And Julie," Christina added, voice turning sharper, "if anyone asks, you never spoke to me today."
Julie nodded quickly and fled.
Christina leaned back in her chair, alone now, and exhaled slowly.
Outside her window, the palace guards marched in new patterns.
Arthur's wall.
Inside her room, Christina smiled faintly. Her web.
Across the palace, Jack Corvus stood in a private chamber with Gordon Oscar and Nowell Von Frentall.
Jack's mouth curled in amusement.
"Arthur is auditing healers," Jack said. "Bold."
Gordon's expression remained flat. "Dangerous."
Nowell shrugged. "Useful. It scares the servants into obedience."
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly. "Not obedience. Panic."
A knock came.
A servant entered, breathless, and bowed.
"My lord," the servant whispered, "there are rumours."
Jack's gaze sharpened. "What rumours?"
The servant swallowed. "That… the Empress's healers were restricted by order of the Trident. That… someone in medicine was forced by the Church."
Jack's expression didn't change, but his eyes did.
"Who started that?" Jack asked.
The servant hesitated. "It's coming from Metaforger estate gossip, my lord."
Jack's lips curled.
"Metaforger," he murmured.
Gordon's gaze flicked toward Jack. "Don't."
Jack smiled wider. "Oh, I'm not doing anything."
Nowell snorted. "That's when you're most dangerous."
Jack waved a hand dismissively, but his eyes stayed sharp.
If the rumour was real, Arthur would strike the Trident.
If the rumour was planted, someone was shaping Arthur.
Jack's smile thinned.
"And if someone is shaping Arthur," Jack whispered, "I want to know whose hand is on the handle."