Chapter 390: The Queen’s Gambit
The next morning, spurred by Helga’s quiet but firm insistence, Reuben convened his inner council to the stone chamber buried beneath the citadel—a narrow, torch-lit room with no windows and fewer secrets. The air was thick with dampness and old dust, the walls echoing the quiet dread that had begun to settle over Northem.
Duval arrived first, pale and tight-lipped, shadows beneath his eyes betraying a night of unrest. He clutched his weather-stained coat close to his chest, as though the intelligence he carried was not merely valuable, but volatile. Moments later, Malik came with his son Espiyor, their boots heavy on the stone floor, weariness carved into their features after a sleepless vigil at the eastern front.
Last came Solanio, unhurried and unnervingly at ease, his embroidered cloak swirling behind him like a banner of indifference. He swept into the room with a half-smile, as though the growing storm beyond Northem’s walls was little more than a show to him.
Helga stood near the stone table at the chamber’s center, silent for a beat, waiting. Five minutes passed. Then, with deliberate steps and the weight of legacy, the patriarchs of the Barson clan entered. Time had bent their spines and paled their skin, but their eyes still held steel.
"Father. Grandpa," Helga said with a respectful nod.
"Great-Grandpa. Grandpa," Reuben echoed.
The rest of the room dipped their heads in quiet deference.
"Begin," Helga commanded, her voice slicing through the stillness.
Duval stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "There’s been a breach. Word has reached us that the joint forces of Estalis and Zura sent to Fereya are nothing more than a diversion. Their true target is Savadra. And more—" he hesitated. "The King of Estalis was found dead in his bed... over a week ago. His son, who married a Zuran princess, now wears the crown."
Silence cracked like a whip.
"What?" Reuben barked, stunned. "He died last week—and we only hear of it now?"
Duval lowered his gaze, saying nothing.