Deep beneath the palace, Tirian sat alone in the council chamber.
The circular room was built for secrecy, its walls lined with heavy fabric to swallow sound, portraits of past rulers watching in silent judgment. A low marble table stood at its center, cluttered with scrolls, reports, and marked maps. Small braziers burned in each corner, their myrrh-scented smoke curling lazily through the dim air.
Hidden behind the throne room, this chamber was reserved for the king of Eldoria's most trusted generals.
And, when needed—
A place for the king to be unseen. Tirian stared at the parchment in his hand. Fresh evidence. More meetings in unknown places. More orders deliberately hidden from me. More proof. But..Sloppy. Too sloppy.
His fingers tightened, the paper crinkling under his grip. Did you grow careless…? Or did you think I would never suspect you… because of how close you've stood by me?
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, but it did nothing to steady him. For days now, he had kept his distance from everyone. From the court. From his knights. Even from Orielle.
Because if he spoke too soon, if he acted without certainty. He might destroy something that could never be repaired. And in the process he could hurt the last person he want to hurt... Orielle.
A knock echoed through the chamber.
"Enter."
The door opened, and GeneralTorvax stepped in, followed by Sir Michal and SirPersion, three veteran knights, men who had served since his father's reign. Men who had fought beside him when he was still just a blade among many.
Men who knew him. Or thought they did. "My king," Torvax began, bowing. "We await your orders regarding the spies. Sir Dante uncovered six maids within the palace acting under King Sol of Veridelle. They are currently being held for questioning, but we require—"
"Release them." The words cut cleanly through the room.
Torvax faltered. "…My king?"
"Send them back to Veridelle," Tirian continued, his voice flat, eyes looking past them resting on one of paintings of a past king. "Inform them they are banned from Eldoria. Permanently."
Silence fell.
The three knights exchanged glances. Sir Michal stepped forward, cautious but firm. "Your Majesty… with respect, we've uncovered too many spies in recent days. If we do not act decisively, it may encourage further treachery. We should make an example of them."
Tirian let out a quiet laugh. Though It wasn't amusement. "And what example would you suggest?" he asked, finally looking up. "Execution? For gossip?"
Sir Michal hesitated. "For betrayal—"
"For listening?" Tirian cut in sharply. "For whispering what they hear in corridors?" His grip tightened around the parchment.
"What of those who truly seek to harm this kingdom?" he continued, his tone sharpening. "The ones who move unseen, who forge alliances, who tear at the foundation from within—"
His voice dipped, quieter now. "—and you would have me slaughter servants." He exhaled, standing up straight.
Torvax stepped in quickly, trying to steady the situation. "My king… we found no spies beyond those tied to Veridelle. If we release them instead of punishing them, it may show weakness—"
Tirian turned fully toward them. "Then what would you have me do?" he asked. There was something off in his gaze. Too intense with a sharper edge they've seen on the battlefield. "Shall we create a punishment worse than death?" he continued, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "Force them to kill the ones they love themselves…?"
A pause. A hollow breath. "Poetic, wouldn't you say?"
Silence.
"…My king," Torvax said quietly, lowering his gaze. "No."
Sir Persion stepped forward carefully, choosing his words with precision. "If I may speak."
Tirian's eyes shifted to him. "Speak."
"Kharis has begun moving south," Sir Persion said. "However, his forces were present at our docks the day you went after the queen to Veridelle. I do not believe that to be coincidence."
Tirian stilled.
Sir Persion continued, steady but firm. "I dispatched two Elites to investigate. There is no doubt, someone informed them of the queen's abduction around the same time we found it."
The room grew colder. Tirian held his gaze for a moment then shifted his gaze towards Torvax and Michal… then asked quietly. "And what would you say… is the likelihood of that someone holding a higher position?"
Sir Michal's expression faltered. "My king…?"
"A position with access," Tirian continued. "Authority. Trust."
Understanding crept in slowly, Michal looked down, conflicted and confused by this unwelcome statement.
"…That would be…" Michal hesitated, "…a grave turn of events. It would compromise everything."
"Yes," Tirian said simply. He folded the parchment slowly. "So then... For now, all findings come directly to me," he ordered. "No reports pass through any other channels. No written records beyond my approval."
His gaze swept across all three men again. "You will bring everything to me. Personally." A pause. "…You are dismissed."
They bowed. But as they turned to leave, something lingered in their expressions, concern and uncertainty.
The door shut.
Silence swallowed the chamber. Tirian stood there for a moment, still and unmoving, a deep breath was released then suddenly.
Crash.
His foot struck a wooden chair, sending it flying across the room. It slammed into the wall, splintering slightly as it struck, knocking a framed portrait loose. The painting clattered to the ground.
His breath came sharp and uneven, then he growled and shouted out of frustration. When he turned he stared at the fallen frame for a moment… and closed his eyes before taking another deep breath.
Tirian stepped forward and picked it up but froze when he saw the image. His father's face looked back at him. At first, Tirian said nothing. Then his expression broke.
As he lifted the painting back into place, his voice came low—strained. "If I knew then… what I know now…"
His hand lingered against the frame. "I would have followed you."
A pause.
"…No." His jaw tightened. "I would have saved you." His fingers curled against the edge of the portrait. "I'm sorry…"
The words barely held together. "Father… Auron… Duaric…" The names dragged out of him like wounds reopening.
His strength gave way. He sank down, one hand bracing against the wall as the other came to his face. "What do I do now…?" he muttered, his voice breaking. "I never wanted this… I never—"
His breath hitched. The parchment slipped from his grasp. It drifted to the floor. Face up. The name stared back at him.
Torvax.
Tirian's gaze locked onto it. It's already been days of watching him, using Sol's spies to find more information and report to him what his dearest friend is doing behind his back.
"…Why?" he whispered. His voice hollow. "Why did it have to be you…?"
Palace Corridor
Torvax walked ahead, his pace steady, with Michal and Persion following close behind. The heavy doors to the chamber shut behind them.
Only then did Michal speak. "The king…" he muttered. "Do you think he knows who the spy is?"
Persion answered quietly, his tone measured. "Perhaps. Why else would he be so… withdrawn?"
Michal ran a hand through his hair, uneasy. "If it's someone high-ranking…" He hesitated. "It could be any one the king chose directly."
Persion stopped walking. "…One of the Elites?" he asked, his voice low.
Michal shook his head quickly. "I'm not saying it as fact. Just… something we can't ignore." He glanced ahead. "What do you think, General?"
Torvax didn't answer immediately. He took a slow breath. "If the king knows…" he said at last, his voice quieter than usual, "and if that person is close to him…"
He trailed off. "…then His Majesty is carrying a heavier burden than we thought."
Michal's eyes widened. "You truly think it could be someone among us? But… why? What reason could they have to betray Eldoria and our king?"
Torvax shook his head. "Perhaps," he said, his tone carefully neutral, "that is a question better asked… when you stand before them."
Persion's gaze sharpened slightly as he studied him. "General…" he said slowly. "Do you have someone in mind?"
For the briefest moment—
Torvax faltered. Then it was gone. His expression smoothed, composed as ever. "The king gave clear orders," he said firmly. "All such matters are to be brought directly to him. We will not speculate."
A beat. Michal nodded. "You're right." He let out a small, uneasy laugh. "Could even be one of us." Torvax gave a faint smile.
Persion didn't. As they continued down the corridor, his eyes lingered on Torvax's back. "…One of us," he murmured under his breath.