The letter crumples in my fist, the wax seal snapping into dust as my knuckles turn white. Outside my chambers in the Soria palace, servants scurry past like mice, their voices hushed as they avoid the corridor where I've chosen to stay. They know better than to disturb me when I'm working—and they know better than to get in my way when anger rises in my veins.
"Perfect plan," I mutter, tossing the ruined parchment onto the fire. The flames devour it greedily, turning ink and paper to ash in seconds. "How the hell did they find out?"
My personal guard, Kregar, stands rigid at attention by the door—six and a half feet of muscle and scar tissue, as loyal as a hound and twice as vicious. He says nothing, just watches me with those empty gray eyes of his. He doesn't need to speak. He knows what I'm thinking.
The ambush was supposed to be flawless. We'd spent three months planning it—mapping every path through the mountains near the Meodes border, calculating exactly when their supply caravan would pass through the narrow pass, positioning two hundred of our best men in hidden positions where they'd be impossible to spot until it was too late. The caravan carries not just food and weapons, but intelligence—plans for Meodes's border defenses that would have given us the edge we need to push into their lands by winter.
And now word has come that Meodes rerouted the caravan three days ago, sending it through a different pass guarded by twice their usual number of soldiers. They even left behind a false trail—one our men followed right into an empty valley, where they waited for hours before realizing they'd been played.
"Bring me the messenger," I say, my voice low and cold as steel. "The one who delivered this news."
Kregar bows his head once and disappears without a sound. I turn back to the window, looking out at Soria's glittering spires. The king here thinks he's my ally—thinks he's using me to expand his own power while I use him for access to southern trade routes. He has no idea that once I have what I need from Soria, I'll take his kingdom too. Everyone is a tool to be used, a pawn to be moved—or discarded when they're no longer useful.
Kregar returns moments later, dragging a young man by the scruff of his neck. The messenger's face is pale with fear, his hands trembling as he struggles to keep his feet under him. He can't be more than twenty—fresh from the training camps, still believing that loyalty to Custodian means something.
"Your Highness," he gasps, stumbling as Kregar shoves him to his knees before me. "I swear—I delivered the message exactly as it was given to me—"
"Who told you what to say?" I cut him off, circling him slowly like a wolf around a wounded deer. "Who gave you the information about the ambush being discovered?"
"No one, Your Highness! I was told to ride straight here the moment we got word from the mountain—"
I stop in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at me. His eyes are wide with terror, and I can smell the fear rolling off him in waves. It's almost enough to make me laugh.
"You're lying," I say simply. "Someone in our ranks is a rat. Someone sold us out to Meodes. And you know who it is."
"I don't—please, Your Highness—"
Before he can finish, I draw my dagger and slice across his throat. Blood sprays across the marble floor, hot and bright red. The messenger gurgles for a moment, his hands clawing at his neck before he collapses to the ground, still twitching.
Kregar doesn't flinch. He just pulls out a cloth and begins wiping the blood from my dagger.
"Clean this up," I say, turning away from the body. "And send word to General Thorne—every soldier involved in planning that ambush is to be questioned. Slowly. Carefully. I want to know who betrayed us. When I find them, they won't die quickly like this one."
Kregar nods. "What of the Meodes caravan, Your Highness? Should we plan another ambush?"
I walk back to the fire, watching the last of the letter turn to ash. "No. They'll be expecting it now. Instead, we'll change tactics. Send word to our men in Meodes—tell them to start targeting their supply lines in smaller raids. Hit them where they least expect it. Burn their granaries, poison their wells, kill their scouts. We'll make them so paranoid they won't know which way to turn."
I pause, a thought forming in my mind—cold, sharp, and perfectly clear. "And send spies to every kingdom bordering us. Find out who else knows about our plans. Someone didn't just betray this ambush—they've been watching us. Listening. I want to know who."
Kregar bows again. "It will be done, Your Highness."
As he moves to drag the body out of the room, I think about the kingdom of Callibean. They've been quiet so far—too quiet. King Theron has always been cautious, preferring to build his wealth rather than his armies. But his sons… I've heard rumors about the youngest one—Vernom. They say he had an accident, that he's changed somehow. That he's been seen moving through villages near the border, talking to farmers and merchants, building connections.
Could he be the one? Could a prince who was once nothing more than a garden-tending weakling have become a threat?
I smile coldly, running my finger along the edge of my dagger. It doesn't matter. Whoever the rat is, they'll be found. And when they are, they'll learn what happens to those who cross Crown Prince Ardias of Custodian. I built this empire on blood and fear, and I'll keep it that way—no matter how many traitors I have to cut down to do it.
"Kregar," I call out as he reaches the door. "Prepare my horse. I'm returning to Custodian immediately. I have work to do."
The war for control of the continent is just beginning. And I will not let anyone—prince or peasant, ally or enemy—stand in my way.
•• ••• ••
The messenger arrives at dawn, riding hard through the morning mist with sweat streaking down his face and dust coating every inch of his clothes. He doesn't even wait to catch his breath before handing me the sealed letter from Prince Aldric of Meodes, his hands shaking slightly as he bows low.
"Your Highness—Prince Aldric sends his regards," he says between gasps. "He said this couldn't wait for the usual courier routes."
I lead him to the inn where Marta immediately sets a bowl of warm porridge and a mug of ale in front of him, clucking her tongue at how exhausted he looks. While he eats, I retreat to my room and break the wax seal—recognizing Aldric's distinctive mark of a silver stag against a blue background.
Vernom—
Your warning came just in time. We rerouted the caravan through the western pass as you suggested, and found Custodian's men waiting in the northern gorge exactly where you described. We left a false trail to keep them occupied while we moved our supplies safely to the fortress. Your information saved not just our provisions, but likely dozens of lives.
I cannot thank you enough. You have proven yourself a true ally to Meodes.
I read the words twice, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I didn't even realize I'd been carrying. The plan worked—my knowledge of the future, of the ambush I once helped plan as a soldier, has kept innocent people safe. But even as relief washes over me, a cold knot of dread forms in my stomach.
Ardias won't take this lightly. I know him better than most—how his mind works, how he reacts when his plans are disrupted. He'll be furious, ruthless in his search for who betrayed him. And he won't stop at just one failed ambush.
I sit at the small wooden table by the window and begin to write my reply, my hand steady despite the tension in my muscles:
Prince Aldric—
I am glad to hear your caravan arrived safely. But do not think this is over. You know how ruthless Prince Ardias is—disrupting his plans will only make him more dangerous. He will not try another direct ambush now that you're expecting it. Instead, watch for smaller raids on your supply lines, attacks on isolated farms, attempts to poison your wells or burn your granaries. He will try to break you through fear, not force.
Keep your scouts vigilant, vary your routes constantly, and make sure your people know to report any strangers in their villages. We must stay one step ahead of him at all times.
Your ally,
Vernom
I seal the letter and call for Cael, who appears at the door within moments. "Can you make sure this gets to the messenger before he leaves?" I ask. "Tell him to ride straight through—no unnecessary stops."
Cael nods, taking the letter carefully. "Of course, Your Highness. Should I prepare another horse for you? You look like you're thinking of traveling."
I shake my head, already reaching for more parchment. "Not yet. But I need to write to my brother and father. Ardias will be moving soon, and Callibean needs to be ready."
I start with Prince Vonce first—knowing he'll appreciate direct, honest words:
Brother—
I write to you with urgent news. Custodian recently attempted to ambush a Meodes supply caravan near their northern border. The attack failed because Meodes had advance warning.
I know you've been watching Ardias's movements closely, so I will be frank—he will not accept this defeat quietly. He will begin targeting not just Meodes, but any kingdom he sees as a threat to his expansion. I believe Callibean will be next on his list, whether openly or through covert means.
Be careful with who you trust. Ardias has spies in every court, and he will not hesitate to use them to turn allies against each other. Strengthen our border defenses, but do not provoke him unnecessarily. We need time to prepare, to build alliances with other kingdoms who share our desire for peace.
I know we have not always seen eye to eye, but I ask you to trust me on this. The war that is coming will be unlike anything our lands have seen before.
Your brother,
Vernom
Next, I write to King Theron of Callibean—choosing my words more carefully, knowing how he values tradition and stability:
Father—
I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I have been spending time in the villages near our eastern border, learning about the lives of our people and the challenges they face under Custodian's growing influence.
I have received word that Custodian's recent military actions against Meodes were thwarted, and I fear this will only embolden Prince Ardias to act more aggressively in the coming months. Our kingdom has long prospered through trade and diplomacy, but I believe we must begin preparing for the possibility of conflict.
I ask that you consider strengthening our border guards, investing in better training for our soldiers, and opening discussions with neighboring kingdoms about forming a mutual defense pact. We do not need to seek war, but we must be ready to protect ourselves and our people if it comes to us.
I miss home and think of you often. I hope to return soon, but there is work I must do here first.
Your son,
Vernom
I seal both letters and call for Tarrama, who has connections to trusted couriers who can deliver them safely without drawing attention. When she arrives, she reads the expressions on my face and nods slowly.
"Ardias is moving," she says, not as a question but a statement.
"He always does," I reply, leaning back in my chair and looking out at the village square where children are already playing. "But this time, we're ready for him. Or at least… we're starting to be."
Cael returns then, his face serious. "The messenger has left with your letter to Meodes, Your Highness. And Marta says there's a traveler at the inn asking about you—says he's from Callibean, carrying a message from the capital."
My heart tightens. A message from home this soon can only mean one thing—Ardias has already made his next move, and Callibean is feeling the pressure.
"Bring him to me," I say, standing up and straightening my tunic. "And Cael—prepare our things. I think it's time we head back to the palace."
The peace we've found in Mear village is precious, but it can't last forever. The storm is coming, and I need to be where I can do the most good—standing with my family, my kingdom, and all those who refuse to let Ardias's tyranny spread across our lands.