The cell didn't have a window. It didn't need one. The dampness told you it was underground. The smell told you that people died here.
Kael sat in the dark, counting the drips. One. Two. Three.
He didn't know how long he had been there. They had taken his boots. They had taken his knife.
They had taken the ash-grey tunic and left him in a ragged pair of trousers that offered no warmth against the cold stone floor.
But they hadn't found the Oath.
He held onto it like a lifeline. The anger. The hatred. It kept his blood warm when his skin was freezing.
The heavy iron door groaned open.
Light flooded the cell—blinding, harsh torchlight. Kael squinted, shielding his eyes.
Two guards stepped in. They dragged him up by his arms, not gently. They didn't speak. They marched him down a long, twisting corridor that smelled of mold, up a flight of stairs, and into a room that smelled of lavender and wax.
The Map Room.
It was warm here. A fire crackled in a large hearth. There was a rug on the floor. A desk made of polished mahogany.
And behind the desk sat Captain Vane.
He looked pristine. His silver tunic was unstained. His hair was combed. He was sipping wine from a crystal goblet.
"Kael," Vane said, his voice smooth as oil. "Of Hollow Creek. No surname."
He put the goblet down. "You've caused quite a mess."
Kael stood straight. He wouldn't slouch. Not for this man. "Where is Ser Elric?"
Vane smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "The old knight? He's alive. Stable. The healers say he's remarkably stubborn. But he's... confused. Murmuring about monsters building siege engines. Poor man. The border fever finally took his mind."
"It's not fever," Kael said, his voice raspy from dehydration. "We saw it. The camp. The Black Banner."
Vane reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the piece of black silk. The sigil of the Broken Tower.
He placed it on the desk.
"This," Vane said softly. "This is very dangerous, Kael. Do you know why?"
"Because it proves you're a traitor."
The guards behind Kael tensed. Vane waved them off.
"Traitor is such a small word," Vane sighed. "It implies loyalty to a King who hasn't visited the border in ten years. A King who lets your village burn because sending troops costs more than the tax revenue you generate."
Vane stood up and walked to the window. "The Black Banner isn't an enemy, Kael. It's a partner.
They keep the monsters organized. Predictable. It turns a chaotic war into a managed economy. We get funding. They get... territory."
"You sell them people," Kael whispered. "You sell them us."
"We sell them buffer zones," Vane corrected. "Hollow Creek was unfortunate. A clerical error in the zoning map. But peace requires sacrifice."
He turned back to Kael. The coldness in his eyes was absolute.
"You have a choice, boy. You can disappear. A tragic victim of the border fever, buried in an unmarked grave."
Vane picked up the black silk.
"Or... you can be useful."
Kael looked at the man. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to cross the room and tear his throat out. But Elric's voice whispered in his head. Math. Cold math.
Kael was unarmed. Vane had guards. If he fought, he died. If he died, no one knew.
"Useful how?" Kael asked.
"We have a Vanguard unit," Vane said. "For the... difficult cases. Criminals. Deserters. Madness. They scout the deep woods. They die so my knights don't have to."
Vane leaned forward. "Survive the Vanguard, Kael. Serve the fortress. And maybe, just maybe, you earn a name."
"And Elric?"
"He stays in the infirmary. Comfortable. Sedated. As long as you behave."
It was a leash. A collar.
Kael looked at the fire. Then he looked at Vane.
"I'll take the Vanguard," Kael said.
Vane smiled. "Smart boy. Welcome to the meat grinder."
He gestured to the guards. "Take him to the kennel."
As they dragged him out, Kael didn't look back at the warmth. He looked at the black silk on the desk.
I will survive, Kael promised the silent room. And then I will burn you and your economy to ash.