Redemption In The Shadows

It pulsed with the thrum of anticipation. Damien, Amara, and Carys were busy sorting through the damning evidence which they had managed to retrieve from the estate of Lord Marlowe. There were heaps of documents strewn across the aged wooden table, each bearing a piece of Elyas's sprawling web.

Amara slumped in her chair and toyed with one of her daggers, rolling it in a bored circle as she perused a ledger. "Marlowe really kept everything. I almost feel bad for how easy this was."

"Don't," Carys said, her green eyes sweeping over another set of papers. "It's that arrogance that makes him dangerous. If we're not careful, he'll twist this around to make us the villains."

Damien stood at the head of the table, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the documents. "That is why we need to act quickly. Elyas will know Marlowe's been compromised, and he'll adjust his plans. We need to strike before he has a chance to regroup."

"And by 'strike,' you mean.?" Amara prompted, her tone laced with excitement.

"We spring for Marlowe and the rest of them who have the ear of Elyas," Damien continued. "We take that evidence to the royal court. Publicly. If we can convince the court to turn against them, Elyas's network will crumble."

Carys furrowed her brow. "That is a foolish risk. The court is filled with spies for Elyas and his dupes. If we make one mistake, they'll hammer our colours to the mast as traitors."

"Then we don't make mistakes," Damien snapped back aggressively. "This is our best chance to force Elyas out of the shadows. If we can cut off his power base, we'll have the upper hand."

Amara leaned back in her chair and laughed, sharp blue eyes glinting with amusement. "High-stakes politics and public drama. Sounds like fun."

The road back to Winter's Crown was tight. All three of them were clad as merchants, their faces hidden under heavy cloaks, traveling under the gray cloak of night. The city loomed ahead with spires piercing into the sky like daggers.

As Damien approached the gates, his mind was filled with possibilities. For all the good that the royal court could do, it was home to a den of vipers, and nothing in its chest would convince everybody. They'd need allies, and fast.

---

Once in town, they moved to a tiny inn tucked behind palace walls. The innkeeper, this old man with a mangled, scarred face, nodded to Damien as he ushered the young man into the room.

"Safe room's ready," he grunted, pointing them toward a staircase located at the back of the building.

The room was small but security good – windows barred and reinforced walls.

Damien spread the documents out on the table once again, his steel-gray eyes scanning over the layout.

"We're going to have to be careful," Damien said. "Amara, I want you to touch base with contacts we have in the city. See who is willing to stand with us."

Amara smiled. "Always shipping me off to do the grunt work. You'd be lucky if I didn't mind."

"Carys, you will come with me," Damien continued. "We'll present evidence to some of the key members of the court; those we can influence to do our bidding."

"And what if they refuse to heed?" Carys pressed.

Then we go looking for someone who will.

This court had never been more resplendent: the great halls were envious only of marble columns and gilded statues. Yet, in this very splendor, one would see tension in the air, a palpable unease that it seemed something unseen was rippling through the nobles gathered around it. Whispers veiled corridors with suspicion-tinted words.

Damien and Carys made their way through the crowd, their steps measured as they approached Lady Erynn, one of the women who commanded great respect at court. Her silver hair and sharp eyes made her unmistakable, and she regarded their approach with interest.

"Lord Damien," she said, her voice iced. "I wasn't expecting you. To what do I owe this. surprise?"

"We need to talk," Damien said, his voice even. "Privately."

Lady Erynn arched an eyebrow but waved them in from behind her through a side chamber. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she turned and confronted them, her features keen.

"You've made quite a commotion for yourself, I suppose," she said coolly. "What do you want?

Damien placed the documents on the table, his steel-gray eyes meeting hers. "Proof of Lord Marlowe's treason. He's been funding Elyas's rebellion and working to destabilize the kingdom."

Lady Erynn scanned the papers, her expression growing darker with each passing moment.

"This is. damning," she said at last. "But you comprehend what you are asking of me. Exposing Marlowe will set the court on its ear. If you don't have sufficient force, it'll rebound on you."

"That is precisely why we sought you," Carys added. "You've got the power to swing the others. And if you stand with us, they'll stand also."

She considered them for what could have been hours before agreeing. "Very well. But if this all goes terribly wrong, I won't be able to protect you."

"We don't need protection," Damien told her. "We need justice."

Meanwhile, Amara wove through the underworld of Winter's Crown, extending a hand into the spider web of spies, informants, and mercenaries they had spun these months. She walked the shadowy alleys, secreted taverns; her sharp tongue and quick mind won over those who would not, under better circumstances, align themselves to Damien's side.

By the time she reached the safe house, her smirk was wider than usual.

"We've got some friends in low places," she said, sitting down in the chair. "They'll keep an ear out for any whispers of trouble."

Damien nodded. "Good. We'll need all the support we can get."

The royal court began with the grand hall the next morning. It was a day when vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows created a golden hue above the nobles gathered there. Damien stood in the middle of this room, with Carys and Lady Erynn flanking his sides.

The court members started murmuring loudly as Damien approached to present the damning documents placed atop the table before the king's advisors.

These documents show the presence of Lord Marlowe and others of high ranking in the rebellion led by Elyas, Damien continued, his voice carrying well through the hall. "They have betrayed the kingdom and risked all our lives."

Gasps in the crowd quickened to whispers and murmurs.

One of the counselors, a dour man with a neatly trimmed beard, frowned as he reviewed the documents. "These are some serious accusations, Lord Damien. Do you have anything else to back this up aside from these pieces of paper?"

Before Damien could speak, the great hall's doors swung open and a platoon of armoured guards marched in, and heated by their presence was the figure of Lord Marlowe himself, his face dark and calculating.

"This is an outrage!" Marlowe shouted, his voice rising. "I demand to know why my good name's being dragged through the mud!"

As Marlowe strode toward Damien, it immediately silenced all those present in the room with the intensity of his glare.

"Marlowe inhaled and breathed coolly, in his most ceremonial tone intoned, "Damien Vryce. You have gone and made yourself guilty of a most grievous mistake."

Damien moved forward, his steel-gray eyes unflinching. "The only mistake has been miscalculating how low your treachery could sink."

The nobles were standing around watching the drama with bated breaths, hardly daring to breathe over the clash of swords and battle between the two.

"You've been exposed, Marlowe," Damien pushed on. "The evidence is public for perusal. Deny it if you will, but the truth shall be revealed."

Just at the point where Marlowe was about to make a retort, his face contorted in fury; however a moment later, a silver streak of hair came cascading down from above as though interrupting him.

"The proof is there," she crisply said through the ripples of silence. "Lord Marlowe, you owe this court an explanation."

From this rupture that caused all chaos in his web called Elyas, comes Damien's first crack.

But this is just the beginning; he suspected it to be so.