Chapter 313: Whispers of Treason
Night fell over the capital like a shroud, cloaking its towers and alleys in deep shadow. From his high balcony in the royal keep, Crown Prince Reuben watched the lights flicker like dying stars. His fingers drummed the stone railing, his mind restless.
The news had reached him swiftly: A mysterious merchant had entered the capital. He had him investigated. He relaxed when he learned he was a wealthy but ordinary merchant from Cavinta.
Behind him, a figure emerged from the gloom of the chamber—a man draped in the black robes of the king’s secret council, his face hidden beneath a silver mask.
"Your Highness," the masked man said, his voice soft as a serpent’s hiss, "all proceeded as you commanded. Prince Alaric and his soldiers are suffering as they travel. The farther they are from the capital, the more they would suffer."
Reuben didn’t turn. "Great! But I know my brother’s capability. He is probably not suffering as much as we thought. Send an urgent message. Bandits ambushed a group from the capital and beat everyone, not knowing that one of them was the first prince of Northem. Make sure that this does not reach the king’s ears. Even if he hated him, he is still his son." He said, his voice measured.
"The king will only see and hear what you wish him to see and hear, Your Highness," the man replied. "His hatred blinds him. He will not question Alaric’s fate until it is far too late."
A slow smile spread across Reuben’s face. "Wait! I changed my mind." He suddenly turned around and almost bumped into the masked man. His voice was full of excitement: "Let the people believe Alaric escaped and beat his escorts to half death. Let the old fools of the court tremble at the name of their exiled prince. When the time comes, they will beg me to save them. Then let someone pose as Alaric, enter the capital, and lead a rebellion."
The masked man bowed low. "And when it is done?"
Reuben’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. "When it is done, I will wear the crown not as heir—but as king."