The cavern expanse was dark and narrow—too deep, too precisely carved. No intruders could have burrowed this far recently, not with the kingdom's security on high alert.
Unless the person in charge of security had allowed it.
The other possibility was that the cave had existed for far longer than anyone suspected, its entrance blocked and unblocked as needed, hidden in plain sight for years.
In the darkness, a ghostly blue light ignited.
The space it revealed should not have existed here. Not buried in raw stone beneath a mountain.
It was a sitting room fit for a rchant prince. The flooring was tallic, polished to a golden sheen that the blue flas twisted into sothing spectral. Crimson cushions ringed the walls like offerings at an altar. A round center table that might have been solid gold sat at the heart of the space, and against the far wall, a fireplace had been carved directly into the cavern stone—the flas within burning the sa eerie blue.
A rockabye chair faced the fire. In it sat a man.
Two figures in black stood behind him, clothed head to toe with only their eyes visible.
"Hmm... quite the dilemma, isn't it." The man's fingers drumd against the armrest. "I had expected the King would surrender easily to the Empire. But that boy..."
His hand stilled. He was still wearing his green ceremonial suit, the embroidered fabric worth more than most families saw in a year. But the finery couldn't mask the irritation that had settled into his posture like rot.
"Who is that bastard, anyway? What business does he have with Ryugan?" His voice rose. "Why does he insist on making my plan fail?"
He clicked his tongue.
One of the black-clothed n spoke. "If you want, we can help you dispose of him."
The man didn't respond imdiately. The fire crackled and blue light played across his face, carving shadows into the lines of his scowl.
"Dispose?" He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You think it would be that easy? The Gentleman of Ash and Fla is now a friend of his after a single battle. Whatever happened between them, either that dimwit got defeated or tricked." His fingers resud their drumming. "I can tell this one is not soone easily disposed of. Certainly not by anyone of your caliber."
He massaged his braided beard, the motion slow and deliberate.
"We need soone more dependable. I cannot afford to lose everything I've built because of these fools who know nothing about making money." His voice hardened. "Not when I'm this close to taking my place among the Trade Monarchs."
"So what do we do?"
The man heaved a sigh that seed to deflate him.
"Desperate tis call for desperate asures." He paused, as if the next words cost him sothing. "What about Albion?"
Both n shifted. It was a small movent—barely a flinch—but unmistakable.
"Albion sses things up."
"But he gets the job done." The man's jaw tightened. "Right now, I don't care what it takes. As long as that interference is removed, I am willing to pick up whatever pieces remain and suffer whatever consequences follow. Anything that saves from committing the wealth needed to sponsor this coming war." His hand clenched into a fist. "The earlier, the better. My money is bleeding by the second."
The two n exchanged glances. Then, as one, they bowed.
"If that is your wish, we shall carry it out."
They turned and vanished into the tunnel's darkness.
Caladhel stood motionless in a shadow they had passed within arm's reach—and neither had seen him. Neither had sensed a thing.
As they ran, one of them muttered, "Did you feel that? The air was colder back there."
"You have a weak body," the other snapped. "Shut up. We're not supposed to talk."
They fell silent, erging from the cave to mount their waiting horses and ride hard down the mountain slope.
Caladhel remained. Northern wanted a clear look at who this man was—and now he had one.
The man rose from his chair and straightened his suit with the practiced precision of soone accustod to appearances. Then he walked deeper into the cave and disappeared through a back passage.
Northern's suspicion was confird.
He commanded Caladhel to follow the fleeing n and see where they led.
***
Northern watched Roma track the con man's hands.
His movents were swift, practiced—but slower than they had been with the nobles earlier. Deliberately slower.
'Is he underestimating her, or luring her in?'
The man's hands finally stopped. He gave Roma a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Miss, please go ahead."
Roma pointed to the left bowl without hesitation.
The man lifted it and widened his eyes in theatrical surprise.
"Oh my! Lady Miss, you have sharp eyes!"
Roma raised her shoulders and grinned. "Ahah, I'm going to eat all your money today."
The man chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. "Oh no, I'm so scared, Lady Miss. Please go easy on ."
But Northern had caught sothing.
Roma stared with renewed focus as the man prepared again, covering the black pearl with the middle bowl. His hands moved fast—but in the instant before the bowl descended, his finger flicked against its edge.
The pearl jumped. It landed in the right bowl just as the other bowls ca down.
'Interesting control.'
Northern was certain now. The man was letting Roma win. Building her confidence. Setting the trap.
The shuffling began again, bowls dancing across the table in a blur. Roma tracked the middle bowl with fierce concentration, her eyes never wavering from where she believed the pearl to be.
The man stopped and smiled.
Roma's hand rose, confident, moving toward the left—
Northern caught her wrist. He leaned close and whispered a single word into her ear.
Her hand changed course. She pointed right.
The color drained from the man's face. He opened the bowl slowly, as if hoping to find it empty.
The pearl sat there, gleaming.
His gaze lifted past Roma to Northern, who stood behind her with his hands clasped and his expression perfectly blank.
Roma threw her hands up. "Yay! I won again!"
She swept the gold coins toward herself, beaming.
The man's eyes went dark. Without a word, he covered the bowls once more.
Northern allowed himself a small smirk.
This was going to be entertaining.
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