Chapter 12: The Hunt for Truth

The assassin had failed. Orwen had made his move, and now, he had been exposed. Eryndor stood outside the Academy's underground holding cells, his arms crossed as he listened to the muffled screams from inside. The royal interrogators were already at work. This wasn't just about revenge. This was war. And in war, information was more valuable than swords.

The iron door creaked open, revealing Crown Prince Darius. He stepped inside, his usual smirk absent. "The assassin broke faster than expected," he said, casually leaning against the stone wall. "Pathetic, really."

Eryndor raised an eyebrow. "What did they say?"

Darius tossed a bloodstained parchment onto the table between them. A letter. Eryndor picked it up, scanning the contents.

"The target must be eliminated immediately. No traces left behind."

There was no signature, but the insignia at the bottom was unmistakable Orwen's family crest. A direct order. Eryndor smirked. "So much for subtlety."

Darius chuckled, amusement flickering in his sharp blue eyes. "Indeed. It seems Orwen is getting desperate."

Setting the letter down, Eryndor folded his arms. "Then it's time we pay him a visit."

Darius grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The next day, an official summons was sent to Lord Callius Orwen, requiring his presence at the Academy under the direct orders of the Crown Prince. It wasn't a request. It was a demand. To refuse would be an act of defiance against the royal family one Orwen could not afford. And so, as the sun began to set, the noble lord arrived.

Dressed in his finest robes, Orwen entered the Academy's grand hall with an air of confidence. But Eryndor noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze flicked to the guards lining the room. He was wary. Good. He should be.

Darius sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled together, his expression unreadable. Eryndor stood at his side, silent but observant. For a long moment, the room remained still. Then, the prince spoke. "Lord Orwen. Thank you for answering my summons."

Orwen smiled, bowing slightly. "Of course, Your Highness. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Darius's lips curled into a half-smile. "Let's not waste time with pleasantries. We both know why you're here."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Orwen's expression didn't change.

Darius leaned forward. "Then allow me to explain."

He gestured to the royal guards. One of them stepped forward, placing a single bloodstained letter onto the table. Orwen's eyes flickered just for a moment.

Eryndor spoke, his tone smooth and even. "Your seal is on that letter."

Orwen remained composed. "Many letters bear my seal. That does not mean I wrote them."

"A convenient excuse."

Orwen sighed, shaking his head. "This is a misunderstanding."

Darius chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. "Misunderstanding? My dear Lord Orwen, do you take me for a fool?"

The air in the room grew heavier. Orwen met the prince's gaze, his mask of politeness cracking ever so slightly. "Be careful with your accusations, Your Highness. I am a loyal servant of the crown."

Darius smiled. "Of course you are."

Eryndor could almost taste the tension in the air. This was a battle of words, a game of power. And right now, Orwen was losing.

Darius stood, adjusting the cuffs of his royal tunic. "Let's not drag this out, Orwen." He gestured toward the guards once more. This time, they brought forward something new the assassin.

Bruised. Beaten. Barely conscious.

Orwen's composure faltered for half a second.

Darius's smirk widened. "It's quite fascinating what people will confess under pressure."

The assassin lifted his head weakly, voice raspy but clear. "Lord Orwen… ordered the hit."

The hall fell silent. Eryndor watched as Orwen's fingers curled into fists. He knew he was trapped. There were only two options now deny and fight, or surrender and negotiate.

Orwen exhaled slowly, schooling his expression back into calmness. "You are mistaken, Your Highness," he said smoothly. "Why would I order the death of a mere student?"

Eryndor leaned forward. "Because I'm not just a student. I'm a threat to your plans."

For the first time, Orwen's gaze hardened. Silence stretched between them. Then, finally, Orwen chuckled.

"You are indeed sharp, Valeria."

Eryndor said nothing.

Orwen turned back to Darius. "And what does His Highness intend to do with this… evidence?"

Darius's smirk vanished. "You have two choices, Orwen." He held up one finger. "Option one: You confess, renounce all claims to influence, and fade into irrelevance." He raised a second finger. "Option two: You fight this, and I ensure you don't leave this room alive."

The threat was clear.

And for the first time, Orwen hesitated.

The moment stretched. Then Orwen sighed. He bowed his head slightly. "I see no reason to continue this… disagreement."

A formal way of saying I surrender.

Darius smiled. "Smart choice." He turned to his guards. "Ensure Lord Orwen's resignation is made public by morning. And escort him to his estate. He is no longer to involve himself in royal affairs."

The guards nodded, stepping forward. Orwen didn't resist. As he passed by Eryndor, he paused for the briefest moment, his eyes locking onto him.

Then, in a voice too quiet for anyone else to hear, he whispered, "This isn't over."

Then, he was gone.

Eryndor exhaled slowly. Darius clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Valeria. You just destroyed one of the most dangerous nobles in the kingdom."

"For now," Eryndor replied. Because Orwen was right about one thing.

This wasn't over.

This was only the beginning.