Chapter 23 – The Serpent's Coil
The Royal Archives were a silent, cold world of their own, smelling of ancient parchment and dust. In a forgotten alcove, hidden behind towering shelves of legal scrolls from forgotten dynasties, the air was thick with paranoia. Here, by the light of a single, magically dimmed lantern, Lord Valerius of House Aetheria stood with his back to them, seemingly examining a frayed tapestry. His caution was a tangible thing.
"You take a great risk in coming to me, Lord Adraels," Valerius said without turning, his voice a low, cultured murmur. "And a greater one in asking me here. Princess Athina vouches for your character, but character is a poor shield against a treason charge."
Don stepped forward, Caria at his side. "The charge of treason is already being leveled against me in the shadows, my lord. I am merely trying to bring the truth to light before those shadows consume us all."
"Truth?" Valerius finally turned, his face a mask of weary skepticism. He was a man who valued order above all, and Don represented a chaotic new variable. "The truth I see is a southern lord forging alliances and raising armies, bringing the kingdom to a precipice. Why should I believe your truth over the one presented by the Crown?"
Caria answered, her tone respectful but firm. "Because the Crown's truth ignores the serpent coiled at its own feet. We can speak of Tidor's aggression and the movements of the Pale Wraith, but those are threats you can see. We have evidence of a more intimate poison."
Don presented the transcribed scroll from Resiria. "This is a copy of a secret correspondence between the Queen's household and Tidor's war camp. It proves her complicity."
Valerius read the scroll, his expression unreadable. "A clever forgery, perhaps. Words are wind."
"Then let us speak of deeds," Don said, his voice dropping. "My friends have been watching the Queen's handmaiden, Lyra. Two nights ago, she visited an apothecary in the lower city called 'The Serpent's Coil.' She was seen procuring a vial of Night-Tear poison."
At the name, a flicker of genuine alarm crossed Valerius's face. "Night-Tear? That is a coastal poison, brewed from a flower found only on the isles east of Aetheria. It is rare, fast-acting, and virtually untraceable. Its use is forbidden by every noble house."
"And yet the Queen's agent has it in her possession," Don pressed, letting the implication hang in the air. "This is not a political game, my lord. It is a prelude to an assassination, one that will be blamed on the chaos Tidor is sowing. The Queen is not just isolating her rivals; she is preparing to eliminate them."
Lord Valerius stared at Don, truly seeing the young man not as a reckless warlord, but as a player in a game far deadlier than he had imagined. The proof of the poison was the final, undeniable piece.
"The Queen's actions threaten the very stability she claims to protect," Valerius conceded, his voice barely a whisper. "You have your alliance, Lord Don. You will have Aetheria's eyes in the sky. Our skyships will monitor Tidor's movements, and my agents will listen for the Queen's whispers. But be warned: if you move against the Crown openly, we cannot support you. Not yet."
"All I ask," Don said, "is that you watch, and be ready when the truth is finally laid bare for all to see."
---
The Serpent's Coil was a narrow, unassuming shop tucked away in a grimy alley, its windows so coated with dust that they admitted no light. It was the perfect place to hide a secret. That night, under the sliver of a new moon, Leinara and two of her Shadow Hunters moved across the rooftops like ghosts.
"Two guards at the back entrance, one watching the street," Leinara whispered into the silence, her eyes scanning the layout below. "They're not city watch. Mercenaries."
The plan was one of speed and silence. A single, smoke-laced pellet dropped down the shop's chimney, filling the main room with a disorienting, non-lethal haze. As the guards inside choked in confusion, Leinara and her team descended on ropes, dropping into the back alley. The two mercenaries there had no time to even draw their blades before they were neutralized, bound and gagged in the shadows.
Leinara picked the lock on the back door with a surgeon's precision. Inside, the air was cloying, a mix of sweet incense and bitter chemicals. They moved through the darkened shop, their steps making no sound. The third guard, still dazed from the smoke, was dispatched just as easily.
"The ledger," Leinara whispered, pointing to a heavy book on the counter. "And check for a hidden compartment. The owner would be a fool to keep the real inventory in the open."
While one of her hunters secured the ledger, Leinara ran her fingers along the underside of the counter, feeling for a hidden catch. Her touch found a small, almost imperceptible notch. Pressing it, she heard a soft click as a false panel in the floor slid open.
Inside the compartment lay their prize: a half-dozen more dark vials of Night-Tear poison, a small pouch of gold bearing the Queen's personal mint, and another, smaller ledger. This one was not for accounting. It was a list of names.
As Leinara scanned the list, a cold dread washed over her. There were minor lords, guild masters, even a royal courtier—all known to be men of integrity who had privately voiced concern over Prince Strelm's ambition. But it was the name at the very top of the list, marked with a small, crimson X, that made her blood run cold.
It was not Don Adraels. It was Grand Scriptor Menvin Thalos.
A sharp whistle from the rooftop lookout signaled the approach of the city watch—far too quickly for a random patrol. The shop was trapped.
"We're out of time. Take the ledger and the vials," Leinara commanded. "Go now!"
They slipped back into the night, melting into the shadows just as the heavy tramp of armored boots echoed down the alley.
---
Back in the candlelit confines of their palace quarters, the mood was grim. Leinara laid the ledger on the table.
"It's a kill list," she said, her voice tight. "The Queen is purging potential dissenters."
Caria picked up the ledger, her face pale as she read the names. "Menvin Thalos... but why? He is the most respected neutral voice in the kingdom. He holds no army, no great wealth..."
"Precisely," Don said, a horrifying clarity dawning in his eyes. He looked at the vial of poison Leinara had placed beside the book. "The Grand Scriptor is beloved. His death would cause chaos and fear. It would be a tragedy that could easily be blamed on a 'reckless southern lord' or his 'Tidorian rivals.' The Queen isn't just removing pieces from the board. She's setting it on fire to cover her tracks."
He realized the game had just accelerated at a terrifying pace. They were no longer just gathering allies and evidence for a future confrontation. An innocent and important man's life was on the line.
Don looked at his war council, his friends, his expression now forged in the cold fire of imminent action. "This changes the plan. We are no longer weaving a web. We are stopping a snake before it strikes."