Interrogating Toman

The battle didn't last long.

With Toman's signal compromised and their surprise only partial, the bandits' plan fell apart within minutes. By the time Julian and Lilia dragged Toman back toward the convoy, most of the attackers were either dead or subdued. A few had fled, bleeding into the woods, but even they wouldn't get far—not with awakened scouts already giving chase.

The forest stank of blood and scorched bark.

Celeste stood near the center of the camp, cloak torn at one shoulder, blood drying along her jaw—not hers. Her sword was clean now, but her eyes burned with alertness, scanning the horizon even as the skirmish ended.

"Report!" she barked.

Lilia stepped in before Julian could speak. "Eight captured. At least six dead. Two escaped north, but they're wounded."

Celeste nodded sharply. "Interrogate the ones we have. I want answers before nightfall."

"We will," Lilia said, but didn't elaborate. She didn't mention Toman. Not yet.

Julian drifted away as the medics moved in and the surviving guards regrouped. He wasn't needed here, not for the cleanup—and Lilia had made it clear she wanted space to observe her sister's reactions without muddying the waters with premature accusations.

Instead, Julian watched from a distance as Lilia took charge of the interrogation.

The prisoners—most of them bruised, bloody, and gagged—were tied to a pair of felled trees near the back of the convoy. Two guards flanked each one. Lilia walked between them like a predator, calm, slow, her sword still drawn but lowered at her side. She spoke to each in turn, quietly, sometimes kneeling, sometimes standing close enough to make them flinch.

One man, cornered and already injured, broke first.

"Merchant routes," he hissed through cracked lips. "That's all we were told. Hit the ones marked with the claw."

"The claw?" Lilia asked.

He nodded. "Burned into the side of the lead wagon. A hidden mark. Someone on the inside paints it—tells us which caravan to hit."

Lilia's expression didn't change. She glanced toward one of the wagons. Julian followed her gaze.

There it was. Barely visible unless you were looking for it, just a smudge of ash shaped like a crooked claw.

A signal. A mark from Toman.

Lilia returned to Celeste later that evening. Julian watched them from a distance as they spoke in hushed tones by the command fire. He couldn't hear the words—but he saw Celeste's face change as she listened.

No fury. No disbelief.

Just cold, calculated silence.

Then she nodded, slowly.

"She didn't lash out," Lilia said later that night, approaching Julian near the supply tent. "Didn't deny it. Asked for every detail, then ordered the evidence locked away and the prisoners questioned again tomorrow. Said we move at dawn."

"She passed," Julian murmured.

"For now," Lilia said, arms folded. "But this was a test. One of many. I still don't trust how far her awareness really goes."

Julian studied her. "Are you trying to prove Celeste is weak? Or are you hoping she's strong?"

Lilia didn't answer right away. Her gaze was on the firelight flickering across the trees.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I just know we can't afford a blind leader."

Julian nodded slowly. "So what happens now?"

"Toman will be questioned once he's conscious. I've already told the guards to keep his survival quiet. Let the others think he died. That way, if there's another traitor… they'll think their chain's already broken."

"And us?"

Lilia smiled faintly. "We keep watching."

The night settled in, cool and quiet again—but now it was a quieter sort. Not the eerie stillness before a storm, but the silence of a camp that had survived one.

Julian returned to his tent and lay down on the thin mat. His muscles ached. His hands were still stained with sweat and dirt. But sleep didn't come quickly.

He kept thinking about what Lilia had said.

We keep watching.

And in that moment, Julian realized something strange.

He wasn't just following anymore.

He was part of the game now.

***

The next morning broke with a damp mist curling low over the forest floor. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy in fractured shafts, setting the dewy leaves aglow in pale gold. Birds chirped warily, as if sensing the unease that lingered from the previous day.

Toman woke up in restraints.

He was gagged and tied to a thick wooden post just outside the medical wagon, his thigh wound cleaned and tightly wrapped. Two awakened guards stood nearby—one fire-aligned, the other earth. They weren't taking any chances.

Lilia stood before him, arms crossed.

She didn't say anything at first. Just watched him blink awake, watched him shift and tense as he realized exactly where—and what—he was.

Julian stood off to the side, behind the guards, silent.

"I should let you bleed out," Lilia said flatly. "You almost got a dozen of our people killed."

Toman's eyes narrowed above the gag.

Lilia crouched. "But we need answers. And maybe—if you're very cooperative—you'll live long enough to rot in a hole instead of being fed to scavengers."

She pulled the gag loose slowly.

Toman coughed and spat, then bared his teeth. "I don't talk to little nobles playing soldier."

Lilia didn't flinch. "Wrong answer."

She nodded once. The fire-aligned guard stepped forward and placed a hand against Toman's shoulder. A brief hiss of steam and a sharp scream followed.

Toman jerked in his bonds, eyes wide with pain.

"Let's try again," Lilia said coolly. "Who are you working for?"

Toman panted, sweat beading on his forehead.

"They… they don't give names," he finally said. "We're contacted through runners. Paid to mark certain convoys. That's it. I don't even know who—"

Lilia's dagger was suddenly pressed against the inside of his thigh—just shy of the bandage.

Toman winced. "Alright! Alright!"

Julian leaned in slightly, watching closely.

"There's a woman," Toman muttered. "Dark red hair. Always wears gloves. Carries herself like a noble, but she ain't on any of your registries. She gave the orders. Always her."

"Did she ever name a region or faction?" Lilia asked.

"She mentioned Vareen once," he said quickly. "Said it's going to be 'central' soon. Whatever that means."

Julian exchanged a look with Lilia. That city again.

It was the second time Vareen had come up. First from Isabella's suggestion, now here.

Lilia stood up. "You've given me just enough to keep breathing. For now."

Toman slumped in his bindings, breathing hard.

Julian followed her as she moved away from the interrogation post.

"You believe him?" he asked.

"Some of it," she murmured. "But the part about Vareen is useful, even if he's lying about the rest. Someone's orchestrating these attacks, and they're choosing targets with precision."

Julian frowned. "So what's next?"

"We follow the trail." She glanced at him. "You're coming with us. Officially."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'll say you're an auxiliary. A servant awakened who volunteered during the attack. Celeste won't question it. After what you did yesterday, your cover's shifting whether we like it or not."

Julian hesitated. That meant more visibility. More attention. But also… more access.

"I'm in," he said.

Lilia nodded. "Good. Then prepare yourself. We're changing course. No more slow convoy movement."

She unfolded a map and pointed to a bend in the old logging trail.

"We'll split from the main road by midday and make for the ruins near the border. That's where the next ambush was supposed to be. If the bandits were working with others, someone will be waiting there."

Julian looked at the spot. It was remote. Strategic.

A perfect place to spring a trap.

Or walk into one.