Chapter 15 - Shadows in the Capital
While Clara restored peace in the east, back in the capital city of Aurelia, a dark plot was quietly unfolding behind closed doors.
Deep within the subterranean dungeons beneath the cathedral, Lord Garrick sat in chains. His hair was unkempt, his once-luxurious robes replaced by rough prisoner rags. Yet, his eyes still burned with a fanatical, unhinged ambition.
Footsteps echoed down the damp stone corridor. A hooded figure emerged from the gloom, stopping before Garrick’s iron-barred cell.
"You took your time," Garrick rasped, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "I thought your nerve had failed you, Father."
The hooded figure lowered his cowl, revealing the aged, wrinkled face of Father Thomas. But gone was the gentle, pious warmth the priest always projected in public; his eyes were cold, calculating, and filled with a dark ambition that matched Garrick’s own.
"Patience, Garrick," Thomas whispered harshly. "The girl is young, and her trip to the eastern borderlands made her reckless. She leaves the capital vulnerable."
"Does the northern general suspect anything?" Garrick demanded, rattling his chains.
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"Marcus is loyal to a fault, but he cannot be everywhere at once," Thomas replied, pulling a small, intricately carved iron key from his robes and sliding it into the cell lock. Click. "The high council is divided. Half the lords still believe a peasant has no right to the crown. If we strike while she is returning through the Whispering Pass, the throne will be left vacant—and under ancient religious law, as the senior high priest, I can name a temporary regent until a 'suitable' bloodline is found."
Garrick pushed the cell door open, stepping out into the corridor and rubbing his raw wrists. A wicked, triumphant grin spread across his face. "Let her taste victory in the east. She will find her grave in the pass."
