Galen prompted the dark elf and the young noblewoman toward the door.

“We should make sure that our luck holds up.”

They left the study and then the manor, finding Quentin outside as he was questioning the groups of soldiers that lined up in teams of five. When they reached the paladin, Regis called him over. Quentin seemed to be puzzled by the abrupt halt, but he joined them nonetheless.

“I only just started,” he stated. “It will take a while before I manage to get everyone questioned.”

“I know,” the dark elf nodded. “It’s just that there had been a little complication so I figured I’d bring you up to speed.”

“Complication?” The man asked back both puzzled and annoyed.

“Long story short, Zola received a letter from both of the princes. One told her to hand over her territory and wait for her punishment while the other one encouraged her and offered aid.”

“That does complicate things.”

“More so because they killed the soldiers who brought the letter ordering her to hand over her territory. As for the ones that were sent as aid, we need you to question them thoroughly.”

“Do you think the prince would send demonic collaborators or something?”

“No, but we need to ensure they are allies instead of Trojan horses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask them what’s the true reason for them to be here. Although they might just be waiting for further orders. Whatever. Just point them out beforehand so that I could prepare for it.”

“I’ll ask Sir Desimir to stay here with you and help.” Zola stated as she walked over to the elderly soldier.

“This is getting more and more troublesome,” Quentin said with a sigh as he watched Zola leave. “How long do you think this madness is going to last?”

“No idea, but I hope it will end soon. Preferably with Mikkel the Second coming out as the victor.”

“You two seem far too optimistic,” Galen remarked. “The last time a succession war occurred in Harmarond, it went on for half a year.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic as long as we don’t go overboard.”

“Anyway, will you be alright here? I have to go back to Thornfell. There’s a lot of work waiting for me.”

“What about me? How will I get back?”

“I’ll ask Tristan to talk with Valerie. She should be able to come for you before noon. After all, we wouldn’t want you to miss your little lunch date.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too,” the paladin waved him off. “Go on, get out of here. I’m sure Zola’s people could handle a few troublemakers if the worst comes to pass.”

“All right. Take care.” Regis hummed as headed toward the local gateway.

Once he was back in Thornfell, it didn’t take long for him to find Tristan. His steward was busy working at the town hall, a small stack of papers filling his desk.

“Welcome back, milord,” he noted after looking back from the stack of notes. “How are things going over at Lady Zola’s territory?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.” The loremaster said before explaining the events that happened in Mistfield.

“Quite the troublesome turn of events,” Tristan sighed. “To think that the prince would go so far this early in the succession war is quite troubling.”

“I think it was meant to be a show force to preserve his dignity or something like that.”

“Perhaps, but it sounds quite foolish of him to think that someone would bow their head just because he sent over a letter and a few soldiers. Once he finds out the results though... that could get messy.”

“That’s one way to say it. Anyway, could you send someone to inform Valerie about Quentin staying over at Mistfield? He should be done before noon.”

“I’ll send over someone later,” the steward promised. “What about you, milord?”

“I’m going to continue shoring up our defences and whatever else comes into mind.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but please take some time to rest as well. I highly doubt you even had breakfast.”

“I can neither deny nor confirm your accusation.”

“Figures. Still, I’ll be here if you need anything else.”

Regis left the town hall and went home, Euric greeting him in the main hall.

“Welcome back, sir!” The man said with a slight bow.

“Euric, could you ask Dana to bring over something to the study for me to eat?”

“Of course, sir.” The butter nodded before turning toward the door leading to the dining hall.

The dark elf entered his study, picking up the enchanter’s tomes once again. He hoped to figure out how he could make the best use of each enchantment to better prepare for any possible battle ahead. It was sad that the research on everyday quality-of-life improvements had to be postponed due to the current events, but the loremaster could only go forward with his plan. A good ten minutes later a slight knock on the door forced him to look up from his notes.

“Come in!” He said and Dana entered the room with a tray that held a couple of sandwiches and a pot of warm tea.

“Here is the food you asked for, milord.”

“Thank you, Dana.” The dark elf nodded, watching as the maid put down the tray and poured some fresh tea.

“Do you need anything else?”

“You mean besides a few days of non-stop sleep and world peace? No, not really.” He sighed, grabbing one of the sandwiches made from fresh rye bread, a thick slice of ham along with some cheese and pickles.

“I wish I could help with that,” the maid chuckled as she watched him take a comically large bite out of the food. “But this is the best I could manage on such short notice.”

“This is more than enough. Thank you.”

“Of course.” She gave a slight bow before leaving the room.

Three sandwiches and a cup of tea later Regis returned to his work, sketching out possible rune combinations which he could use to either reinforce their defences or augment the damage they could dish out to the enemy forces. Half an hour later he decided to switch rooms, it was time for his ideas to turn into reality in the workshop. Sadly, he couldn’t get half of the things done before a firm knock on the door disturbed him.

His hands shook from the sudden disturbance which broke his concentration. The runic links began to collapse on themselves, prompting him to throw the palm-sized bronze sheet into the prepared hole in the floor nearby. A loud explosion later he turned toward the door. As he opened it, he found a very flustered Quentin and Valerie standing in front of it.

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“Sounded like we disturbed you at the wrong time.” The young woman remarked.

“That depends on whether you wanted me to be blown to bits or not.”

“That bad, huh?”

“What’s up?”

“We just wanted to fill you in on the results of the check-up at Mistfield.”

“Were there any sleeper agents?”

“None,” the paladin said with a sigh of relief. “I questioned every soldier and civilian, but none of them turned out to be collaborators.”

“That’s good news. What about the... reinforcements the prince sent over?”

“They’re clean as well. Their purpose is pretty much what the letter said.”

“No hidden agenda?”

“None so far. Of course, they turned out to be the least capable bunch of the prince’s forces.

“That’s pretty much to be expected,” Valerie noted. “I mean, no one would send away capable forces so far from where the action is.”

“At least Prince Mikkel doesn’t have any bad intentions from the looks of it. That’s a lot better than his brother.”

“So... what were you doing back there that ended with such a loud boom?”

“I was trying to develop a few more enchantments that would hopefully give us an edge.”

“Any luck?” Quentin asked in a more serious tone.

“Nothing that could repel a large enemy force if that’s what you’re asking. I did finish crafting a few neat trinkets for you lot though.”

Saying that the dark elf walked back to his worktable and brought over two pairs of bronze-reinforced flasks and a pair of brooches.

“These are...”

“Identify them yourself.” He said with a grin as he handed over a pair of flasks and one of the brooches to Valerie.

The young woman did as told, her eyes widening a few seconds later. She looked at the items, then at Regis, and back at the items as if she couldn't believe what she was holding in her hands.

“Are you bloody serious?”

“Look nice, don’t they?”

“Okay,” Quentin hummed. “Would either of you care to feel me in about what I’m holding?”

“Right,” Val snapped out of it. “I forgot you still didn’t learn charlatan’s wisdom yet.”

“Not everyone wants to play the nerd. So, what are these?”

Valerie explained what the flasks and the brooch did, prompting the paladin to let out a low whistle.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. This should definitely help us out during a fight.”

“That was the…”

“Milord!” Tristan’s voice cut the conversation short as the steward appeared at the end of the corridor, taking hurried steps toward the trio.

“What’s wrong?” They asked almost simultaneously.

“It’s Martin.” The steward huffed.

“What did that idiot do this time?”

“He’s dead.”

“He’s what?” Regis asked back, baffled by the news.

“He got shot dead by Durnan.”

“Okay, hold on for a moment,” Quentin muttered. “What the hell did the guy do to earn a bolt?”

“He tried to instigate a rebellion against Lord Regis.”

“He wanted to do fucking what?” Valerie blurted out with her eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets.

“You can explain it on the way.” The dark elf stated as he grabbed his blade staff and the four left the manor.

“Do you remember how you asked me to make sure someone was always keeping an eye on Martin?”

“I do. So?”

“At first, he was just looking around, asking people about what life was like in Thornfell. He talked to the different crafts folk, the farmers, and even the guards. It didn’t seem too troublesome. There were some simple questions like did the people have enough to eat, or how much taxes they had to pay.”

“He tried to find something to use as justification for the rebellion.” Valerie remarked.

“So it would seem,” the dark elf agreed. “What happened then?”

“The questions became more serious, asking the people how they felt about you. Whether they were happy with the way you run things around here.”

“And?”

“He found out that the people were genuinely content with their lot. This is where things got bad.”

Tristan let out a troubled sigh before continuing with the report.

“Martin tried to incite them to rebel, telling them how much better their lives would be under the rule of a properly educated lord. Of course, he tried to be subtle about it, but when Miss Letty confronted him at Landwaker Square, the man and some of the soldiers who followed him drew their weapons.”

“Did Letty get hurt?” Regis asked, practically growling as his eyes lit up due to the raw arcana that coursed through his veins.

“Durnan immediately stepped out of the crowd and put a bolt through Martin’s skull before he could take a swing at Miss Letty. She in turn summoned a vine trap to ensnare the rest of the rebels.” Tristan explained as they finally reached Landwaker Square, finding five tied-up soldiers and a very dead Martin there, surrounded by the nervous and furious townsfolk.

“Letty.” He called out to the wood-elf woman, earning a firm hug from her as she pretty much jumped into his embrace.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but he…”

“It’s okay. Durnan.” He called out to the nearby dwarf.

“Milord?”

“Thanks for taking the shot.”

“Just doing my job, sir. Couldn’t let our lovely druid get hurt, right?”

“Damn right,” the dark elf nodded as he let go of Letty, turning toward Cornelia. “Care to explain what the hell happened? I remember you saying that you can keep your people in line. They don’t seem to be...in...line.”

“I... I don’t know,” Cornelia muttered. “I don’t understand either. Martin said he’d go out to see how the people of Thornfell fared, then there was this loud yelling and then...”

“Then they tried to instigate a bloody rebellion.” The loremaster said with his tone turning ice cold as he looked at the tightly bound soldiers kneeling on the ground.

While the people gave them enough space to breathe, that didn’t mean they stayed quiet. Most of the townsfolk were cursing the tied-up warriors, spitting on the cobblestone ground as they called them ungrateful traitors. A few of them even suggested hanging them or beheading them.

Regis raised his left hand and the crowd went silent. He looked at the men that even now, had a defiant and spiteful expression on their faces.

“Quentin,” he called out to his friend. “You know what to do.”

As he said that, the paladin stepped closer while releasing his truth-seeker domain.

“Why did you try to rebel?” He asked, the man staring at him defiantly as black smoke wafted out of their mouths.

“We... Martin promised us we’d be rewarded if we helped him.”

“What was your plan?”

“We,” the man tried to speak, but he choked on his words as the truth-seeker domain burned him from the inside out for his attempted lie. “He wanted to make Lady Cornelia the new ruler of Thorn Vale. He would then marry her and in turn, become the true lord of Thornfell.”

“Son of a bitch!” Cruz cursed as she appeared from the crowd, rushing over to hug her younger sister. “Just heard what happened. Are you okay?”

After earning a slight nod from Letty, the tomboyish elf turned to Regis.

“I told you they would be trouble.”

“So did I,” Regis agreed as he looked at Cornelia. “Did you know anything about this?”

Cornelia looked both surprised and hurt after hearing the question. She took a step forward so that she too would be inside the boundary of the truth seeker domain before nodding at Quentin.

“Did you know anything about this?” Quentin asked, understanding her intention.

“No,” she replied. “I had no idea they were planning anything like this.”