In Zura, the storm did not announce itself with thunder. It began in whispers—threads of malice spun in shadowed chambers. What Estalis heralded as triumph, Zura named arrogance. And arrogance, the Zurans believed, demanded correction.
The Defense Minister moved with the patience of a spider, each word and gesture weaving an unseen web. Spies were dispatched into Estalis, not as soldiers but as merchants, pilgrims, even wandering minstrels. Their task was not to kill, but to listen, to map weaknesses and to sow seeds of doubt in taverns and marketplaces.
...
In the coastal towns of Estalis, spies and messengers slipped through alleyways at night, bearing sealed scrolls hidden under their cloaks. Couriers changed hands at forgotten crossroads, vanishing into forests before dawn could reveal their faces.
