Night fell over the capital like a shroud, cloaking its towers and alleys in deep shadow. From his high balcony in the royal keep, Crown Prince Reuben watched the lights flicker like dying stars. His fingers drummed the stone railing, his mind restless.
The news had reached him swiftly: A mysterious merchant had entered the capital. He had him investigated. He relaxed when he learned he was a wealthy but ordinary merchant from Cavinta.
Behind him, a figure emerged from the gloom of the chamber—a man draped in the black robes of the king's secret council, his face hidden beneath a silver mask.
"Your Highness," the masked man said, his voice soft as a serpent's hiss, "all proceeded as you commanded. Prince Alaric and his soldiers are suffering as they travel. The farther they are from the capital, the more they would suffer."
