Chapter 13 - The Cleansing of the Roots
The discovery of Bryce’s spy network sent a tremor through the administrative heart of Edrin. For three weeks, under Clara’s direct supervision, the royal auditors worked day and night through the master ledgers captured at the Drowned Anchor. Corrupt magistrates were removed from office, bribed harbor officials were stripped of their titles, and the underground syndicates that had choked Oakhaven for decades were systematically dismantled.
Yet, as the corruption was rooted out, a deeper, more fragile truth began to surface.
Back in Blackstone Palace, Queen Celestine sat beside Clara in the royal library, going over the recovered documents of the old regime.
"Bryce wasn't just running spies," Celestine said, her finger tracing a hidden codex marked with the private seal of the late King Rowan. "He was archiving the history of every noble house that betrayed us twenty-four years ago when Malrec seized the throne."
Clara looked up from a stack of shipping manifests. "Are there names we don't know?"
"Many," Celestine sighed, closing the heavy leather-bound volume. "Lords who smile in our court today, who swore oaths of fealty at Blackwater Pass, but whose fortunes were built on the blood of our loyalists. If we expose them all at once, the kingdom could tear itself apart in a civil war."
"We don't expose them to spark a war," Clara said, leaning back in her chair, the ancient crown resting lightly on her silver hair. "We expose them to force a choice. Just as Malrec gave me a choice with the poison cup, I will give them a choice: rebuild Edrin with us, or pack their gold and leave our borders forever."
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The strategy was masterclass in political precision. Over the next month, instead of public executions or bloody purges, Clara summoned the suspect lords individually to the throne room. No guards were present. Only the queen, the crown, and the unarguable evidence laid out on the table.
One by one, the proud lords broke. Some surrendered their lands to the crown voluntarily; others chose voluntary exile across the northern mountains. By the time winter frost melted into the green shoots of spring, the internal rot of Edrin had been completely excised.
