Robert frowned so hard a line cut across his brow. The chamber had gone still after William's last words.
Too still.
The king's fingers tightened on the throne arm. "Do not tell me…" His voice carried a warning. "…you want me to order the killing of envoys." The word killing lingered in the chamber.
Ugly.
Sacred laws breathed beneath it. Even kings did not touch envoys lightly.
William smiled.
Almost offended at the suggestion. "No, Your Grace." He dipped his head. "That is not our way." Robert exhaled through his nose.
Slow, and controlled.
"What then are you suggesting?"
William did not answer at once..He moved toward the table, and poured himself a cup of wine. The red liquid curled into the cup like blood. He drank, then he turned.
"Theon…" He lifted the goblet. "…is Drexo's queen card."
Robert's face tightened. But William continued. "Possess it and the king falls."
Robert stared, unblinking. "I do not understand."
William nodded as if expecting that. Then he stepped closer, and lowered his voice. "Imagine Theon Kendrick as your man inside Drexo's camp." The words moved carefully, and calculated. "Imagine him luring Drexo into a trap."
He paused and smiled.
"Imagine ending this war…" His eyes gleamed. "…without another battle."
Silence fell, it was long and stretching. Robert digested it all. Then suddenly laughter burst from him.
It was sharp, and unexpected. "Hahahahaha!" It echoed against the stones.
William waited for the laughter to die. Then Robert's face shifted back to cold again.
"Theon grew beside my cousins." His voice sharpened. "He thinks of himself as a Dragarian." He rose halfway from the throne. "Why would he betray Drexo?" His jaw tightened. "A man he loves like a brother?"
William shook his head slowly.
Smiling.
"Your Grace…" He almost pitied him. "You are a man of too little faith."
Robert narrowed his eyes. William came closer. Very close now. "Edmond and Maria were siblings."
That name again: Maria. It entered the room like a ghost.
Robert stiffened. Anger flickered before he buried it.
William noticed it, but he pressed on. "They loved each other."
He paused.
"But when Maria loved another…" His tone lowered. "She betrayed Edmond." The wound opened. Robert looked away for only a moment. Then faced him once again.
"Is Theon in love with a woman…" He spoke carefully. "…he could betray Drexo for?"
William laughed: Soft, and amused. "Of course not." He sipped wine. "Men do not betray for love." His eyes locked on Robert. "You of all men should know that."
That struck, and silence stretched. And something moved in Robert's face.
Recognition: dark, and slow. He whispered it almost to himself. "Men betray for power."
William smiled. "Now you understand the game."
Robert nodded.
"Now…" He said almost proudly. "…you thinking like one who means to win the game of kings." The phrase lingered.
Game of kings. A game where loyalty was coin.
Another silence fell
Then Robert asked, "What can I offer him?" William did not hesitate. "Everything Drexo has." Robert frowned. William stepped closer. "Give him Cliffland." The words fell like iron. "And he will kneel before you."
Robert stared at him, testing him. "How are you so sure?" He rose fully now, and walked down one step from the throne.
"With Drexo…" He spread a hand. "…he has gained much already."
William moved near enough to place a hand on Robert's chest. Bold, familiar, and dangerous. "Leave Theon to me…" He said. "…and Fabio." He withdrew, and turned away. "The man owns nothing." His voice echoed. "Only closeness to Drexo." He looked over his shoulder. "And what title is that to pass to children?"
He let that hang. Then drove the blade further. "Give him something his sons may inherit…" He tapped the goblet. "…and he will think twice."
Robert exhaled sharply, and walked away from him toward the throne. He knew Theon. He knew the bond he had with Drexo. Shared blood was weaker than some brotherhoods. He did not believe betrayal so easily. At last he spoke. "I assure you…" His voice was low. "He will reject such an offer."
William inclined his head. "Maybe."
He paused.
"Or maybe not." He smiled, but it was not warm. It was a predator's smile. "But we can try." He spread his hands. "After all…" He leaned in. "…we lose nothing." Those words lodged in Robert because they were true. And dangerous truths often win.
Long silence fell. Then the king gave in.
Barely.
"Do what you must." His voice was tired.
Heavy.
"But keep your hopes low."
William bowed. Deep, and victorious, though he hid it. "As you command, Your Grace." Then he turned, and walked away. His boots echoed down long corridors.
Not hurried, but Measure. A man already plotting. He went straight to his chambers, and shut the door. Bolted it then sat. He took a parchment, a feather, and ink. Then he began to write. Line after line. His eyes sharpened with every word. When he was done, he folded it, and pressed the wax. He sealed it with the king's seal.
A lie wearing royal truth. He held the message over candlelight and smiled. "Let the game begin."
Then he summoned a raven. The bird stirred against his wrist, restless as though sensing conspiracy.
William tied the note to its leg, and walked to the window. Night winds moved through and kissed his forehead.
He whispered, "Fly." And released it. The raven vanished into darkness, toward Ashford. Toward treachery. And William stood watching long after it disappeared. As though already seeing kingdoms burn.
Ashford waited beneath a sky heavy with salt wind and silence.
Two days had passed. Two long days of smiles, feasts, guarded courtesies, and no answer.
Theon had begun to feel the delay in his bones. Something was being weighed, something beyond diplomacy.
That morning he strode into the throne room, boots striking stone with measured force. Lord Fabio sat where he always sat, calm as old granite, fingers resting on the carved arms of his chair.
Theon bowed. "My lord."
Fabio nodded.
Theon lifted his head. "I have been here for two days. I wish to know whether your house has reached a conclusion."
The hall went still. Even the servants seemed to stop breathing. Fabio did not answer at once. He studied Theon the way an old hunter studies movement in the dark.
Then he shook his head. "Not yet, my lord." His tone was smooth, and controlled. "What is the hurry?" A faint smile touched his mouth. "Are you not enjoying my courtesy?"
Theon forced a smile of his own: a thin one. "Of course I am." But impatience flickered in his eyes. "It is only that if I do not return home soon…" He hesitated. "…the king might grow restless."
Fabio leaned back: unmoved. "Then send a raven tomorrow…" His fingers tapped the chair once. "…my house will decid tomorrow."
Always tomorrow. The word felt like fog. Still, Theon bowed again. "Very well, my lord." His voice stayed polite. But his jaw tightened. "I will wait patiently." He turned and walked out. Fabio watched him leave, and did not blink.
That evening the sea darkened. The wind rose. Torches burned along Ashford's walls. Then a raven came. Its wings cut through dusk. Fabio himself caught the bird, and untied the note. He broke the seal, and read.
His face did not move. But his eyes sharpened. Very slowly he read the message again.
Win Theon Kendrick over. Offer him Cliffland. And anything else he desires. Turn him to us. And you shall have command of the nation's armies.
Fabio lowered the parchment.
Silence stretched.
Only the crackle of torchfire. His thumb pressed the royal seal. Robert's authority. Robert's temptation. Fabio folded the note carefully. Almost reverently. But his thoughts had already become war. The mission felt impossible.
Theon Kendrick? Turn against Drexo? Against the brother he would bleed for?
Fabio almost laughed. Yet he was not a man who surrendered to impossible things. He had built Ashford holding impossible lines. He knew walls fell. Men bent, and oaths cracked. Sometimes not through fear but desire for power, and legacy.
He rose slowly from his seat and walked to the narrow window. The sea moved black below. Somewhere beyond it sat Cliffland. Somewhere inside his guest wing slept a man he was now meant to seduce into treason.
Fabio's fingers tightened around the parchment. "How do I buy a loyal man?" He whispered it. Not in doubt, but in calculation. His gaze darkened. Then a slow smile came.
Small, and cold. "If he cannot be broken…" He murmured. "…he can be tempted." The torches flickered. And in Ashford that night, diplomacy began turning into conspiracy.