4

I watched Taru disappear into the shadows, my mind racing. His words weren't just vague threats—they were carefully chosen, calculated to unsettle me. He was baiting me, testing me, and I couldn't afford to react impulsively. Every word he spoke had a purpose, and I needed to figure out what it was.

"System," I murmured under my breath, retreating deeper into the garden where no one would overhear me. "Give me an analysis of Taru's last statement."

A familiar, emotionless voice resonated in my mind, cold and efficient.

"Analyzing... Taru's statement appears to carry an implicit warning. Context suggests he is aware of a hidden variable in your environment, potentially linked to the impending revolt. Probability of bluff: 15%. Probability of actionable threat: 85%."

So, Taru wasn't bluffing. He knew something I didn't.

"Does he know about the system?" I asked, a knot of tension forming in my chest. If he did, it would complicate everything.

"Negative. There is no evidence Taru possesses knowledge of the system. His actions are driven by his personal motives and current resources. His awareness of you is based solely on observable behaviors and family history."

That was a relief—albeit a small one. If Taru didn't know about the system, I still had the advantage of knowledge and strategy. He might be cunning and driven, but he was operating blind in a way I wasn't.

"System, locate Taru's current position," I instructed. If he was moving to set something into motion, I needed to know where he was headed.

"Locating… Target is en route to the south wing of the palace, likely heading toward the hidden passage leading to the slave quarters. Distance: 150 meters. Time to intercept: approximately 3 minutes at maximum speed."

The slave quarters. My heart sank. He was moving faster than I'd anticipated.

"Provide me with the most efficient plan of action to stall Taru without revealing my intentions," I demanded, sprinting toward the south wing. My soft-soled boots barely made a sound as I moved through the palace corridors, blending into the shadows.

"Optimal strategy: Confront Taru under the guise of concern. Use familial ties and shared experience to create hesitation. Recommended dialogue: inquire about his well-being and express empathy for his perceived grievances. Simultaneously, use the opportunity to gather intelligence about his motives and allies."

Perfect. I could play the concerned little brother if it kept him from moving forward.

I reached the south wing just as Taru was slipping into a hidden corridor. He moved with purpose, his steps confident. He had done this before.

"Taru," I called softly, my voice echoing in the narrow stone hallway. He froze, his hand halfway to the concealed latch that led to the slave quarters. Slowly, he turned, his eyes narrowing as they met mine.

"You again," he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance. "What do you want now, Hota? Come to lecture me about loyalty to the empire?"

I forced a soft, disarming smile and took a step closer. This was a delicate dance, and I couldn't afford a single misstep.

"Not at all," I replied, my tone light and nonchalant. "I was worried about you. You've been… distant lately. I just wanted to check in."

His expression flickered for a moment, caught off guard by my words. But he quickly recovered, his gaze hardening. "You don't need to worry about me. Worry about yourself, little prince. You're playing a dangerous game, poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Dangerous games are all we know, aren't they?" I said, tilting my head. "We're all pawns in this palace, Taru. But you've always been different—always one step ahead. I admire that about you."

He frowned, clearly trying to decipher my angle. Good. If he was trying to figure me out, he wasn't focusing on whatever plan he was about to execute.

"What are you really after, Hota?" he asked, his voice low and wary.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice as if sharing a secret. "I want to understand. I want to know why you're so determined to burn everything down. Maybe…" I hesitated, letting a hint of vulnerability creep into my tone. "Maybe I can help you."

He scoffed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, doubt, perhaps even curiosity. He wasn't immune to my words, no matter how much he wanted to be.

"You can't help me," he said, his voice quieter now. "No one can. The only way to fix this mess is to tear it all down and start over."

"And what happens after you tear it all down?" I pressed gently. "What happens to the slaves? To the people caught in the crossfire? To you?"

Taru's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he turned away, his shoulders tense.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered.

"Then make me understand," I said softly. "You're not alone in this, Taru. Let me help you find another way."

He was silent for a long moment, his hand resting on the latch. Finally, he turned back to me, his expression unreadable.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," he said. "But this isn't a game, Hota. And if you get in my way… I won't hesitate."

With that, he opened the latch and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

I stood there for a moment, my mind racing. He was testing me, trying to see how far I'd go. But I had bought myself a little time—a few precious moments to regroup and plan my next move.

"System," I whispered, turning back toward the main palace. "Update me on Taru's network. Who are his key allies, and what resources does he have at his disposal?"

"Taru's primary allies include discontented slaves, disgruntled nobles, and a faction of mercenaries. Resources include stolen weaponry, hidden supplies, and potential support from an external force. Current probability of successful rebellion: 62%."

62%. It was higher than I'd hoped.

"System, calculate the best course of action to destabilize his network without exposing myself."

"Recommendation: Identify and target key allies within the palace. Use manipulation and misdirection to sow discord among Taru's supporters. Simultaneously, gather evidence of the rebellion to leverage against him if necessary."

It was risky, but it was the only way. If I couldn't stop him directly, I'd dismantle his rebellion piece by piece.

And I'd start with his allies.

The air in the corridor was heavy with the scent of stone and dust, the weight of centuries pressing down like a second skin. I lingered for a moment, staring at the shadows where Taru had vanished. The ancient walls whispered secrets of rebellions long past, of those who had tried to bend the palace to their will and had either succeeded or been swallowed whole by its relentless hunger for order.

I stepped back into the light of the main hall, careful to keep my steps measured and purposeful. A prince, even the youngest, could not afford to appear aimless. In the palace, every move had meaning, every glance carried weight.

"System," I murmured under my breath, keeping my face neutral as a pair of attendants passed me by. "Overlay priority targets based on Taru's network."

The system responded instantly, and faint, translucent markings appeared in my vision—names, titles, and subtle hints of influence mapped across the sprawling network of the palace's inhabitants. Most were familiar faces, the usual suspects among the restless slaves and minor nobility. But a few caught my attention, individuals I hadn't thought capable of aligning with Taru's rebellion.

One, in particular, stood out: a scribe who managed the grain inventories of the palace. He was young, quiet, unassuming—a mere speck in the grand design of the court. Yet the system flagged him as a critical link in Taru's plans. Grain was power. Control of food meant control of people, especially those already teetering on the edge of revolt.

"What's his weakness?" I whispered.

"Susceptibility to flattery and fear of exposure. The target falsified records to siphon excess grain into hidden caches under Taru's direction."

My lips curved into a faint smile, one that would seem harmless to anyone watching. People like him were easy to manipulate—terrified of losing what little they had, desperate for reassurance that they mattered.

Later that evening, I found the scribe alone in one of the courtyards. The pale light of the moon washed over the scene, casting long shadows against the sandstone walls. He was hunched over a small tablet, his stylus moving furiously as he worked by the flickering light of an oil lamp.

"Good evening," I said, my voice soft and warm.

The scribe jumped, nearly dropping his tablet. He scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply, his movements awkward and nervous. "Your Highness! I—I didn't see you there."

I waved a hand dismissively, stepping closer. "There's no need to be so formal. I was simply taking a walk to clear my mind. And you? Burning the midnight oil?"

He fidgeted, clutching the tablet to his chest. "Just... catching up on records, Your Highness. The grain inventories require constant attention."

I tilted my head, letting a note of curiosity seep into my voice. "It must be exhausting, keeping track of so much. I've always admired the dedication of the scribes—your work keeps the palace running smoothly."

His face flushed with a mixture of pride and unease. "You're too kind, Your Highness. I'm just doing my duty."

I let the silence stretch for a moment, then took another step closer, lowering my voice as if sharing a secret. "Though I imagine your work involves more than what's written on the surface. Managing grain—such a vital resource—must come with its own unique challenges."

His eyes darted to mine, and I saw the flicker of fear I'd been waiting for. "Challenges, Your Highness?"

I smiled gently, as though to reassure him. "Oh, I simply mean the complexities of it all. Balancing the needs of the palace with those of the people, ensuring nothing goes to waste… It must take a keen mind to handle such responsibilities."

The scribe swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched the tablet. "It's… it's not as complicated as you might think, Your Highness. Just routine work, really."

I let out a soft laugh, light and disarming. "Routine? For someone as meticulous as you? I find that hard to believe."

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. The cracks in his composure were widening. All it would take was one more push.

"Of course," I continued, my tone becoming more serious, "I imagine there are times when routine isn't enough. When… certain decisions must be made for the greater good. Difficult decisions, the kind only someone with true dedication could handle."

His breathing quickened, and his grip on the tablet tightened. "I—I don't know what you mean, Your Highness."

I stepped even closer, my voice dropping to a near whisper. "Don't you? Someone with your talent, your access… It wouldn't surprise me if you'd been asked to do things outside the usual scope of your duties. Things that others might not understand."

The scribe's eyes widened, and his face turned pale. "I—I would never—"

I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Relax. I'm not accusing you of anything. I only meant to say that I understand. The pressures of palace life, the expectations placed on those of us who serve it… It's easy to feel overwhelmed. To feel… alone."

For a moment, his fear softened into something else—uncertainty, perhaps even hope. "You… you understand?"

I nodded, my expression carefully crafted to convey empathy. "Of course. And I want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands the burdens you carry, you can come to me."

The scribe hesitated, then bowed deeply, his voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and lingering fear. "Thank you, Your Highness. I—I'll remember that."

As he straightened, I saw the faint glimmer of trust in his eyes. He didn't realize that trust was a leash, one I would tighten when the time came.

The system's voice echoed in my mind when I left the courtyard.

"Target destabilized. Trust level increased. Probability of cooperation under pressure: 78%."

I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. One piece of Taru's network was now within my grasp. It was a small victory, but in the palace, small victories could topple empires.

And I had no intention of losing this game.