The message from Ren arrived via a relay of Ashen scouts, reaching me in less than two days. The news of the plot to destroy the Great Forge sent a chill through our war council. It was a plan of devastating elegance, one that would cripple us and sow civil war within our new nation.
Borin's immediate reaction was predictable. "We send the Dragoons. Now. We ride to Ironpeak and we put every traitor to the sword."
"And arrive just in time to see the forge destroyed and Grak killed?" I countered, my mind already working through the cold, hard logic of the intelligence. "No. Vaelin's agent expects us to be predictable. He expects a hammer. We will give him a web instead."
My new strategy was one of high-risk, high-reward counter-espionage. To simply stop the plot would be a temporary victory. It would leave the conspiracy's roots intact and Vaelin's network still operating. We needed to do more. We needed to control it.
"Ren's next instruction is this," I said to the council. "He is to make contact with Grak. Secretly. He must bypass Ulf and his men completely. He will present Grak with the proof of Ulf's treason."
"Grak will kill him on the spot," Kael worried. "He will see it as a trick, an attempt by Oakhaven to meddle in his affairs."
"He might have, once," I said. "But Grak is not a fool. He has seen our strength, and he respects it. And the proof Ren carries is undeniable. No, Grak will not kill him. He will listen. Because his life, and the life of his city, is at stake."
And so, the most dangerous part of the game began. Ren, using his knowledge of the mines, managed to arrange a secret meeting with Grak in the dead of night, deep within a deserted iron seam. In the flickering torchlight, Ren laid out the entire conspiracy, presenting the clay shard with his initial report as proof.
Grak, the mighty smith-chief, listened in a terrible, stony silence. His face, illuminated by the torch, was a mask of thunderous fury and profound, personal betrayal. Ulf was not just his lieutenant; he was a man Grak had known since childhood, a man who had fought beside him in a dozen brawls and skirmishes. The news that Ulf would betray him, would destroy their city's heart for a promise of royal gold, was a wound deeper than any blade could inflict.
When Ren finished, Grak smashed his fist into the rock wall of the mine, cracking the stone. "I will tear the lying tongue from his throat!" he roared, his voice echoing through the tunnels. "I will melt him down and forge him into a slag hammer!"
"And if you do that," Ren's quiet voice cut through the rage, "you will do exactly what the kingdom wants. There will be chaos. The city will be divided between your loyalists and his. And the agent, Cassius, will slip away in the confusion to poison another well. The Lord Castian suggests a different path. A colder one."
Ren then laid out my plan. Grak's fury slowly subsided, replaced by a look of cold, calculating cunning. A slow, terrible smile spread across his face. It was a plan that appealed to his brutish nature, but also to his newfound appreciation for strategy.
The plan was this: the sabotage would be allowed to proceed. Grak would play the part of the oblivious chieftain, continuing his daily routine, overseeing the smelting of the steel for my Dragoons. Ulf and Cassius would believe their plot was moving forward undetected.
But Grak, with his most loyal forge-masters, would make a secret, critical modification to the Great Forge. They would create a hidden overflow channel for the molten metal and a secondary release valve for the furnace pressure.
On the night of the planned sabotage, when Cassius's agents added their alchemical powder to the molten steel, it would not cause a catastrophic explosion. Instead, Grak would trigger the release valve. The furnace would vent its pressure with a terrifying but harmless roar of steam. The molten steel, instead of exploding, would be diverted down the hidden channel into a prepared pit of sand. There would be a great deal of noise, fire, and smoke—all the appearance of a terrible accident—but the forge itself would be saved, and Grak and his loyalists would be well clear of the staged "blast."
In the ensuing "chaos," Grak's men, already in position, would seal the forge and capture Ulf, Cassius, and all their co-conspirators. We would not just foil their plot; we would catch them, and the royal agent, red-handed, in a trap of their own making. And we would have allowed them to reveal every traitor in their ranks.
"Tell your Lord," Grak rumbled, his voice low and filled with a newfound, chilling respect, "that his plan is a worthy one. The snake wishes to bite the mountain. We will let it. And we will break its fangs."