The runner Lyra had sent to Commander Varr returned in less than an hour, not with the requested roster, but with Varr himself.
The Commander filled the antechamber doorway—a towering, implacable wall of black armor and menace. His presence alone was an assertion of Kaelen's authority, and his gaze, visible through the helm, was a solid, uncompromising challenge.
"You requested the detailed security roster for the sub-levels, Queen Lyra," Varr rumbled, the title sounding like an insult squeezed through iron teeth. He did not bow, or even nod. He was a force of duty, and his duty did not include respecting the human witch now chained to his King.
Lyra stood firm behind the large table, placing herself on Kaelen's political ground. Vesper stood silently near the wall, a watchful shadow.
"I did, Commander," Lyra confirmed, her voice clear and level. "As Minister of Domestic Affairs, I require a full security assessment of the resource storage areas and the artifact vaults. My mandate is the stabilization of the Shadowlands, and that begins with securing its assets."
Varr took a slow, deliberate step forward, his boot heels clicking sharply on the marble. "Your mandate is to stabilize the King's life force through the Bond. The Citadel's security is solely the purview of the Shadow Guard, and that is my purview."
He leaned his massive armored arm on the table, the sheer weight of his gauntlet making the wood groan softly. "The King is gone. Do not mistake a tyrant's absence for a free hand, Lyra. I am the gatekeeper. And I will not allow a known assassin access to information that could compromise the Citadel's security."
Lyra felt the familiar stir of rage, but she locked it down, knowing that raw emotion would only grant Varr victory. She was fighting a political battle, using Kaelen's rules. The oppressive silence of the Citadel seemed to wait for her failure, for the moment she would crack under the pressure of Varr's contempt.
"The King granted me control of all domestic affairs, Commander," Lyra insisted, using the formal, unbending language of the court. "The security of the resource stores falls under that mandate. You are defying the express command of your Sovereign."
"I am protecting the Crown from the Crown's folly," Varr countered, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "You want access to the Vaults. You will not have it."
Lyra knew she couldn't win this argument through confrontation. Varr was immune to fear, and loyalty to Kaelen was absolute. She needed to leverage the very thing Varr valued most: the King's safety.
She walked out from behind the table, approaching Varr until she stood directly in front of his armored chest. The cold iron radiated Shadow Essence, a subtle, noxious magic that attempted to suppress her Aether. Lyra pushed back with sheer willpower, a cold determination settling in her chest. She lifted her hand and pointed to the pulsing gold mark at her neck.
"Then you misunderstand the meaning of this Bond, Commander," she said, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper that held the chilling clarity of light magic. "This is not just a marriage; it is a single life-force. The stability of the Shadowlands—the very stability you guard—depends on the success of my duties."
She pressed her argument home, playing directly to his paranoia. "Lord Veridus and the Council want me to fail. They want the resources to destabilize, proving me unfit. They want the Vaults compromised to use as leverage against the King upon his return. If I do not have those reports, Varr, and if chaos erupts in the sub-levels while Kaelen is away, you will bear the failure. And the King will see it as a failure to protect his most vital asset: me."
Varr was motionless, but Lyra saw the faint, golden flicker in his visor. She had hit the mark. Varr did not fear her death, but he feared Kaelen's wrath and anything that threatened the King's power structure. The air between them crackled with the unspoken threat of Kaelen's authority.
The Vaults contain more than food, Commander," Lyra added, borrowing Vesper's hint. "They contain ancient secrets. Are you certain Veridus isn't using the King's absence to shift assets and hide his treachery?"
The word "treachery" was the final hook. Varr trusted no one in the Citadel except Kaelen.
After a long, charged silence, Varr reluctantly pulled his arm back, the air momentarily easing. "You will be escorted," he conceded, the word wrung from him like blood. "You will not have the full roster. You will be given only the maps and the inventory manifest. You will not enter the Vaults. You will audit the books, and you will do it under the observation of a Shadow Guard detail."
He turned on his heel. "The maps will be delivered in one hour. If you step outside the bounds of domestic affairs, Lyra, I will personally throw you into the dungeons and seal the walls with Shadow-Bound iron."
Varr stormed out, the reverberations of his armor echoing down the corridor.
Lyra waited a moment, leaning against the cold marble table until the aggressive tension in her shoulders finally eased. She was physically and magically depleted from maintaining her composure against Varr's suppression and the constant ache of the Bond, which felt empty now that Kaelen was gone. The missing half of her magic was a dull, constant throb.
An impressive performance, Queen Lyra," Vesper commented, emerging from the shadows. "You used his loyalty against him. A perfect tyrant's tactic."
"I used his fear of the Council against him," Lyra corrected, running a hand through her hair. "But a map and an inventory list are useless without access."
"Not entirely," Vesper said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She picked up a small, silver dagger Lyra had left carelessly near a fruit bowl and examined its highly polished blade. "The map will show you the physical layout. The inventory list will show you what should be there. Veridus is subtle, but greedy. If he has been stealing artifacts or misfiling assets, the discrepancy will be in the details."
"And the keys?" Lyra asked. "The wards are too strong even for my Aether, especially without the Scepter."
Vesper placed the dagger back down. "The deepest Vaults are warded by ancient, repetitive patterns. They aren't sealed by Kaelen's brute force, but by Veridus's archaic spellwork. The keys are always physical—worn by the chief mage of the Council. But the patterns... they can be found."
She walked to Lyra's bedside table and picked up the heavy volume Lyra had been reading—The Ancient Edicts of the Shadow Court.
The greatest secrets are often hidden in plain sight, my Queen. The architecture of this Citadel is not merely stone. It is a massive magical lattice. Look at the maps Varr sends you. Look for the points of repeated structure. The runes of the oldest wards are often inscribed in the very foundational blueprints. Every single layer of stone, every gargoyle, every hallway here serves a magical purpose, Lyra. Find the repetition, and you find the key to disrupting the pattern."
Lyra's mind raced. An opportunity. A vulnerability. Vesper's instruction felt like a coded message left by an ancient ally.
"We have one hour before Varr sends the Guard," Lyra said, her energy returning with a vengeance. "Vesper, bring me paper, ink, and the brightest light you can muster. I need a source of pure light that won't alert the Shadow Guard, if one exists in this dungeon."
Vesper smiled, a hint of something genuinely admiring in the gesture. "The King anticipated this, Lyra. He provided a reading lamp on the desk—fueled by captured Sunstone energy. It glows with a weak, contained light. It won't alarm the guards, but it will be enough for a true Sunstone Witch to work."
Lyra moved to the desk, her mission now crystal clear. She was an assassin, but now she was a political operative, facing a ticking clock and a maze of ancient dark magic. Her true war had begun.