Chapter 521

Roasted pork crackled over the fire pits in the plaza below, its rendered fat dripping into the white-hot coals and sending thick plumes of savory smoke drifting toward the manor balcony. The driving rhythm of the lutes and the booming laughter of the veterans provided a constant backdrop, and in another time, when there weren’t quite so many things to do, Nick might have set his mantle of power aside and enjoyed the revelry.

Alas, it was not to be.

Eugene took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes fixed on his youngest son. “It must be a terrible problem to see you so tense,” the Lord of Floria mused, swirling the dark liquid in his silver goblet. "We just broke the back of the dwarven forces. I don’t think my men are quite up to another war. Yet you stand here, as if the abyss itself were opening beneath our feet.”

Nick set his cup on the stone balustrade. "The abyss is quiet for now, Father, and the immediate threat from the Crown has been managed.”

Eugene straightened. “Yes, your mother told me about the ritual on Arthur's girl. Was it truly successful?”

"It was," Nick confirmed, keeping his voice low enough that even the keenest ears could not pluck the words from the air. Not that any sound was leaving the balcony, but when such secrets were spoken, it paid to be careful. “Ogden’s creation scarred her channels and suppressed her mana, burying her beneath an artificial template. Even to my senses, she’s no more than an [Adept Swordswoman]. When the King's Shadow arrives with the dark of the moon, he will find a talented commoner, and his gaze will slide right past her.”

Eugene let out a long, slow breath as the tension left him. "Arthur owes you a debt he can never repay, then. And Floria is safe from the Crown. That is a victory worthy of a feast.”

Yet it was not enough to lift the pall, and Eugene waited patiently for him to reveal what was truly troubling him.

“We’ll still have to be careful, but yes, that danger might have been averted,” Nick murmured, his gaze drifting to the wooden tables near the largest bonfire. He spotted Sir Armand Poules, laughing uproariously, slamming his horn of ale against the table, surrounded by his cheering men. "We have a more pressing problem in our own ranks.”

Eugene looked where his son was staring, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Sir Poules fought bravely during the campaign. He held fast against demons and dwarves alike. That man has integrity.”

"There is taint in his mind," Nick said grimly. He quickly outlined his encounter with Tim at the Horseshoe Inn and explained the bloodless coup underway in Oakenhollow, detailing Candra’s slow takeover of the guards and magistrates.

Eugene listened in silence, even as his expression hardened into a mask of cold iron.

"I looked at his soul tonight before bringing it to you,” Nick continued, gesturing toward the laughing knight. “And though it pains me to say it, Tim’s diagnosis is correct. It is not an active spell you can simply dispel with another, Father. It alters the man’s emotional baseline. I saw scars wrapped around his loyalties, carving a false devotion deep into his mind. Armand Poules is utterly compromised, and he genuinely believes every thought is his own.”

The stone balustrade groaned softly under Eugene's grip. The betrayal by a vassal’s household directly threatened the stability of the western border, however unwilling it might have been.

Technically, nothing might come of this, but neither of them said so. A woman as ambitious as Candra would not be content with just her little town for long. And even if she were, they’d forever live with a snake in their bosom.

“Yes, I remember the Charmer," Eugene spat the word like a curse. "An insidious, cowardly class, made even worse by the lack of traces it leaves. If I ride into Oakenhollow and accuse her, she will simply deny the charge. The magistrates will support her. The town guard will draw steel to protect their Lady. And Armand..." Eugene closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. "Armand will demand a duel to defend his wife's honor. I cannot execute a loyal knight’s spouse without undeniable proof, Nick. It would shatter the trust of every sworn sword in this Barony. They would see me as a tyrant.”

If it came down to it, they might have to take that path, but given how tense things were with the Crown, they were both reluctant to draw even more attention.

“I know," Nick agreed. “Forcing a confession from her will serve no purpose. The town is already under her thumb. Even if she admits the crime, her sycophants will justify it or claim we tortured the words from her. We cannot cut this corruption out with a sword, nor can we drag her to a tribunal she already controls.”

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Eugene turned to face his son. He saw the analytical calculation in Nick’s eyes—the same calculation that had outmaneuvered ancient madmen in the north. "You have a strategy.”

"I do," Nick said smoothly. "Tim and I will fly to Oakenhollow tonight. My speed will let us beat Armand’s return by days. I will go as Tim's last, desperate hope—the arrogant young Lord lending his sword to a friend to retake his inheritance.”

Eugene frowned, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "You intend to march up to her gates? She will see you as a threat.”

"That is exactly the point," Nick stated. "Candra is arrogant, but pragmatic. She knows my reputation as a prodigy. She will see me as a dangerous variable, but still a mortal mage. She will try to pacify the threat, the only way she knows how. If she were to succeed, she’d secure her position forevermore. She certainly wouldn’t be foolish enough to try it on you, but having your son as a thrall would give her considerable influence.”

Realization dawned in Eugene’s gray eyes. "You want her to cast her magic on you.”

"The moment she attempts to weave that charm into my mind, it ceases to be a domestic dispute," Nick explained with a dark edge. "It becomes an overt act of treason against the ruling house. My mind is a fortress she cannot breach, but I will feel the attempt. More importantly, I will have proof of her crime should this come to trial before the King’s Justice. I will drop the disguise, reveal my power, and take her prisoner before her guards can even draw their steel.”

"And the charmed townsfolk?" Eugene pressed.

"Without her active direction and facing the raw power of a Prestige mage, most of them will break," Nick assured him. "I will do my best to subdue them without lethal force. The aftermath will be messy, but with Candra bound by my spiritual magics, we can begin the slow work of unraveling the damage she has inflicted on their minds.”

If that is even possible. If it’s not, at least we’ll have removed her from the board. It would mean Oakenhollow will forever be a place to watch, though not nearly as dangerous as it is now.

Eugene studied his son for a long moment. He rubbed his bearded jaw, calculating the political fallout and weighing the risks against the need to secure his borders.

"Armand is eager to return to his estate and his wife," Eugene warned. "He spoke of it on the march. He might already plan to leave on the morrow.”

"You are the Lord of Floria," Nick reminded him. "You just won a war, and the spoils must be managed. If that’s not enough, I’m quite sure Mother has several important matters that need to be addressed in their presence.”

A slow smile tugged at Eugene's lips. “Yes, that might work. I will summon Sir Poules and Sir Quack to my solar at dawn to inform them that their duties are not yet concluded. We must discuss the dispersal of the new mercenary companies, the integration of the dwarven tribute, and the economic boom flowing through our gates. That should be enough to keep them in Floria for at least two more days. They will grumble, but they will obey.”

“Two days is more than enough," Nick said. Given the travel time between Floria and Oakenhollow, that would leave Tim and him three days to move. His flight was fast enough to get him there in an hour or two, and he didn’t expect Candra to wait long before making her move.

Eugene reached out, gripping Nick's shoulder. The leather of his gloves creaked. “I will not try to tell you how to handle this. Your powers are obscure and beyond my knowledge. But do not underestimate the cunning of a cornered snake. Secure the town, bind the witch, and try to save my knight.”

"I will," Nick promised.

He stepped back from the balustrade with a formal bow. Eugene returned a sharp nod, then turned back toward the warmth of the manor hall, already thinking of the political theater he must perform at the feast below.

Nick drew the Stillness from his spatial ring, draping it over his shoulders. His form dissolved into the ether, leaving the balcony empty.

He moved swiftly across the rooftops of Floria, even as the celebration reached a fever pitch. Drunken soldiers sang bawdy songs in the alleys, spinning local girls in wild dances around the fire pits. Joy and cheap wine were just as common as the revelry. He even spotted his brother and Sonya taking a quiet moment away from the bustle to enjoy each other’s company.

Nick, on the other hand, slipped into the dark alley behind the Horseshoe Inn. He pushed gently against the back door, then slipped up the wooden stairs to the second floor.

Tim was exactly where Nick had left him, sitting on the edge of the straw-stuffed bed, nervously chewing his thumbnail.

"Pack your stuff," Nick ordered, his sudden appearance making Tim jump. “We’ll fly out as soon as possible. I want us to get to Oakenhollow before dawn so we can get the lay of the land.”

Tim scrambled to his feet and grabbed his leather satchel. "My father?”

"My father is handling him," Nick said, moving to the window and peering through the slats at the crowded street. "Sir Poules will be delayed in Floria for administrative duties. That should give us three days to do what needs to be done before he can get there.”

Tim shoved a spare tunic and his wand holsters into the bag. He looked up, his expression tight with anxiety. "What is the plan, Nick? We can’t just walk through the front doors. She has dozens of armed men loyal only to her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had me arrested the moment I walked through the gates, given how I left.”

“That is exactly what we’re going to do," Nick replied with a smile, turning from the window to send a breath of spiritual wind through the room, cleansing it of Tim’s presence. "You’ll need to play the desperate heir clinging to a powerful friend. You are bringing your liege lord's son to support your claim, and we will demand an audience with her, arrogant as only lordlings can be.”

Tim swallowed hard. "She won't yield, Nick. She will try to turn you.”

"I am counting on it.”

“You are using yourself as bait?” he squeaked out.

"A mortal mage might be in danger, but I’m not,” Nick said smoothly, stepping closer to his friend and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Tim, her magic manipulates the minds of ordinary men. I crossed the boundary. My mind is beyond her ken. Her charm will be like a candle trying to burn down a stone fortress. Let her cast the spell. The moment she does, she will have committed treason against her liege’s House. I will have the legal right to take her down then.”

Tim searched Nick's eyes for a trace of doubt. Finding none, he let out a shaky breath. “All right, I trust you. But what if she tries to use the townsfolk as hostages?”

“That’s when I stop playing the mortal," Nick said firmly, his eyes alight with power.