Chapter 252: Messanger of Astellia
"Your Grace," Riven began, his voice a whisper yet cutting through the room like a blade, "there is more to this than simple misinformation. I have reason to believe that there is a mole within our ranks, feeding information directly to Erich."
The room fell silent, the weight of Riven’s words sinking in. Ravindor’s expression darkened, his gaze piercing through the room. "A mole, you say? Do you have any suspects?"
Riven nodded, a slow and deliberate movement. "Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been tracing the flow of information and have identified a few individuals who have been acting suspiciously. With your permission, I will begin an investigation immediately."
Ravindor’s eyes bore into Riven’s. "Do whatever it takes. Root out this traitor and ensure they pay the price for their betrayal."
Riven bowed deeply, slipping back into the shadows, his presence almost ghostly. Ravindor turned back to his advisors, his mind racing with plans and contingencies.
"We cannot afford to let Erich gain the upper hand. Our spies must spread counter-intelligence to muddle their efforts. Let them believe they have the advantage while we prepare to crush them."
Lord Thorne’s eyes glinted with approval. "A masterful plan, Your Grace. We shall turn their own tactics against them."
As the advisors resumed their discussions, plotting out their next moves, Riven moved silently through the fortress, his mind already working on how to unmask the traitor. The stakes were higher than ever, and failure was not an option.
____
The city of Arkansas lay shrouded in the stillness of night, its cobbled streets deserted and its houses darkened as their occupants slept. In the heart of the city, a small, dimly lit tavern stood as an exception to the silence. Inside, the embers of a dying fire flickered in the hearth, casting a faint glow over the empty room.
At a corner table, Lyan sat alone, nursing a tankard of ale. His dark cloak blended seamlessly with the shadows, making him almost indistinguishable in the dim light. His eyes, however, were keen and alert, scanning the room for any sign of movement. He had received a message earlier, delivered by a crow with a black feathered body and piercing red eyes – a bird unmistakably tied to Vilgira Vold, the crown prince’s trusted guard. The message had been brief but clear: someone would meet him here tonight.