Chapter 128: How to catch a spy.
Not the vain kind. The kind that came from being trusted with something that mattered.
"You wish for me to take over Sanovere’s intelligence duties regarding the refugees."
"Regarding the refugees specifically. The broader network stays under his standing orders until he returns. But the civilian population is where the vulnerability is, and I need someone who will not hesitate to act if they find something."
’Sanovere is quite diplomatic when he needs to be. He would observe a spy for a week before making a move, because he would want to understand the full picture before disrupting it. Lyra will observe a spy for about four seconds before ripping their spine out through their throat.’
’Both approaches have merit. Right now, I need the second one.’
Lyra stood from the chair and placed her hand over her heart.
"I will find them, my Lord. If there is a traitor among those civilians, they will not see another sunrise."
"I did not say kill them."
Lyra blinked.
"My Lord?"
"If you find a spy, I want them alive. A dead spy tells me nothing. A living spy tells me everything. Who sent them, what they have reported, what communication method they are using, and most importantly, what the Empire knows about our defenses that we have not yet changed."
Lyra’s jaw tightened. She clearly preferred the other option.
"Understood."
"Begin tonight. Review the registration documents Sanovere compiled. Cross-reference every refugee’s stated background against what Ren knows about the group. If there are gaps, if someone’s story does not match, if anyone arrived with the group who was not part of the original caravan, I want to know."
Lyra bowed.
"It will be done."
She turned and walked toward the doors.
"Lyra."
She stopped.
"Be discreet. If there is a spy, I do not want them to know we are looking. The moment they realize they have been identified, they will either go silent or attempt to flee. Neither outcome is useful to me."
Lyra looked over her shoulder, and for the first time since entering the room, a faint smile crossed her lips.
"My Lord, I have been discreet since the day I was born. Subtlety is not a skill I lack."
’She says that, but the last time she was discreet, she accidentally broke a wall because she forgot to control her aura while eavesdropping on Carlotta.’
He did not say that out loud.
"Go."
The doors closed behind her, and the Throne Room was silent again.
Kai leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
’Aldren is feeding the Empire information about Valdris. The Empire is using that information to plan an invasion. And somewhere inside my city, someone might be providing real-time updates that make Aldren’s secondhand intelligence look like a children’s book.’
He closed his eyes.
’Sanovere will handle the Traona side when he reaches Throneguard. Lyra will handle the Valdris side while he is gone. Between the two of them, the leak will be found.’
A pause.
’But that still leaves the question of what to do about Aldren himself. I told Sanovere to bring me proof. Proof I can use. Hard, undeniable evidence that the First Prince of Traona has been selling his own kingdom to the Nexus Empire.’
His fingers curled around the armrests.
’Because when I have that proof, I am going to walk into Desmond’s throne room, drop it on his lap, and watch the old man decide whether his alliance with me or his love for his son matters more.’
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
’And I already know which one he will choose.’
...
Twelve hundred miles to the north, in a camp that smelled of oiled leather and cold iron, Prince Aldren sat in a tent that did not belong to him.
The tent was one of three that Agent Varen maintained along the border, positioned in locations that were technically inside Traona’s territory but so remote that no patrol had checked them in years.
They were the kind of places that existed specifically because someone had decided they were not worth watching.
Aldren had ridden through the night to reach this one.
He sat on a wooden stool across from Varen, who occupied a folding chair behind a portable desk that was covered in maps and coded documents. The oil lamp between them cast unsteady shadows against the canvas walls.
"You look tired, Prince Aldren," Varen said, pouring a cup of water from a clay pitcher and sliding it across the desk.
Aldren did not touch it.
"My father has sent a diplomatic communication to the Shadow of Victims. He is requesting a meeting to discuss a joint response to the Empire’s declaration."
Varen’s hand paused mid-pour.
"When?"
"The message was sent yesterday through the royal communication crystal. The response has not arrived yet, but knowing the dungeon lord’s pattern, he will send the witch again. She is his preferred envoy."
Varen set the pitcher down and leaned back.
"The Witch of Judgment, Carlotta."
"The same one who sat in our court and made my father sign away a piece of his kingdom."
"She did not make him do anything, Prince Aldren. She presented a case, and your father agreed. There is a difference."
Aldren’s jaw tightened. He did not appreciate being corrected, especially by a man who served a foreign empire.
"The point," he said, his voice clipped, "is that she will be coming to Throneguard again. And this time, my father is going to offer the dungeon lord more than he did before. The declaration has him terrified. He will give that monster anything it asks for if it means the Empire stays on its side of the border."
Varen studied the prince for a moment.
"What exactly do you think your father will offer?"
"Military access, most likely. The sovereignty agreement already recognized the Jaun Land as independent territory. The next logical step is a mutual defense pact. Shared intelligence. Joint military operations. The kind of arrangement that makes the two entities functionally inseparable."
He leaned forward.
"If that happens, Varen, the Empire’s task becomes significantly harder. A dungeon lord with independent power is one thing. A dungeon lord backed by a kingdom’s supply lines, intelligence network, and political legitimacy is something else entirely."
Varen’s pale grey eyes studied the prince without blinking.
"You are remarkably well-informed about your father’s strategic thinking."
"I am his son. I have been watching him make decisions my entire life. I know how he thinks."
"And yet he does not consult you."
The words landed like a slap. Aldren’s hands curled into fists on his knees.
"My father does not consult me because he considers me impulsive. He believes I lack the patience for diplomacy. What he fails to understand is that patience is a luxury that Traona can no longer afford."
Varen said nothing for several seconds. Then he reached into a leather satchel beside his chair and produced a thin, sealed envelope.
"General Harken sends his regards."
Aldren looked at the envelope.
"What is this?"
"A request. The General has reviewed the intelligence you provided regarding the Nameless Dungeon’s defenses. He found it useful but incomplete."
"Incomplete?"
"You provided estimated troop numbers and known subordinate identities. What Harken needs now is tactical intelligence. Entry points to the dungeon itself. Tunnel layouts. Ward placements. The kind of information that would allow his forces to bypass the outer defenses and strike directly at the core."
Aldren stared at the envelope.
’Ward placements. Tunnel layouts. That is not the kind of information that passes through a military briefing. That is the kind of information you would need someone inside the dungeon to provide.’
"I do not have access to that level of detail," Aldren said slowly. "The dungeon’s internal structure was never disclosed during the negotiations. Carlotta mentioned defensive capabilities in general terms, but she did not provide specifics."
Varen’s expression did not change.
"The General anticipated that. Which is why the envelope contains a secondary request."
Aldren opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, written in a cipher he had learned to read over the past several weeks. The message was short.
He read it twice.
Then he looked up at Varen.
"He wants me to plant someone inside Valdris."
"Not someone. The General already has someone."
A beat of silence.
"What do you mean, he already has someone?"
Varen folded his hands on the desk.
"When the refugee group crossed into the Jaun Land three weeks ago, they were not entirely composed of displaced civilians. One of the individuals in that group was inserted by Imperial Intelligence before the caravan reached the dungeon’s border."
Aldren’s blood went cold.
"You put a spy in the refugee group."
"The Empire put an operative in a group of displaced non-humans who were heading toward the dungeon. The operative’s cover is airtight. They have a genuine background as a displaced civilian, complete with scars, documentation, and a believable story. The dungeon lord’s processing system would have flagged nothing."
Aldren stood up from the stool.
"You did not tell me about this."
"No. We did not."
"Why?"
Varen looked at him with those pale, calculating eyes.
"Because the fewer people who know about an operative, the longer the operative survives. That is not a slight against you, Prince Aldren. That is operational security."
Aldren stood there, breathing hard, his mind racing.
’They have someone inside Valdris. Already. Embedded among the refugees that the dungeon lord accepted three weeks ago. That is how the Empire has been getting specific intelligence about the ward network and the patrol schedules. Not from my reports. From someone on the ground.’
"The information about the ward network," Aldren said. "The patrol specifics. That came from your operative, not from me."
"Correct."
"Then why did Harken need my intelligence at all?"
Varen’s thin smile returned.
"Because intelligence from a single source is never trusted. Your reports provided corroboration. The operative provides tactical detail. Together, they form a picture that neither could create alone."
Aldren sank back onto the stool.
The implications settled over him like a weight.
He had thought he was the one with leverage. He had thought the Empire needed him because he was their only window into the situation. But they had been running their own operation the entire time, using him as a verification tool while someone inside the dungeon did the real work.
’They played me. Not maliciously, not cruelly, but efficiently. The way you play a useful piece on a board without telling it that there are other pieces already in position.’
"What does Harken want from me now?" Aldren asked, his voice quieter than before.
"The operative can gather physical intelligence. Layouts, routines, troop positions. But they cannot access strategic decision-making. They do not sit in the dungeon lord’s war councils. They do not know what the Shadow of Victims is planning."
Varen leaned forward.
"Your father does. And when the witch arrives for negotiations, your father will share information with her that reveals Traona’s defensive posture, military commitments, and strategic priorities. Harken needs you to relay that information as soon as the negotiations conclude."
"You want me to report the results of my own father’s alliance negotiations to the enemy he is trying to defend against."
Varen did not blink.
"I want you to report the results to the party that has promised to leave Traona intact, support your claim to the throne, and remove the monster threat from your kingdom’s border permanently."
The words hung in the air between them.
Aldren looked at the map on the desk. The Jaun Land was marked with red circles that he now understood represented not just General Harken’s scout positions, but the location of an embedded operative feeding real-time intelligence from inside the dungeon itself.
He picked up the cup of water he had ignored earlier and drank it in one long swallow.
"I will do it."
Varen nodded.
"The General will be pleased."
"One condition."
Varen raised an eyebrow.