Lorian never had felt any true affection for his cousin. Every fragment of his memory was a record of childhood torment. Lyssian had always been a bully to him, especially when Bianca was watching; humiliating Lorian in front of her had been his favorite pastime. Lorian's mind had always screamed at him one consistent threat- be wary of the Father-Son duo.
Therefore, this sudden change in Lyssian's attitude was pretty amusing to Lorian, kind of intoxicating. Seeing the man who had once belittled him now bowing his head as a subject, that too when Lorian did not lift even a finger, was a indeed a victory which was sweeter than any wine. It was the first time Lorian truly understood why they said revenge was a dish best served cold.
So, when Lyssian claimed his life was in danger, Lorian agreed to hear him out. He wasn't concerned for Lyssian's well-being, but his instincts told him something was fundamentally amiss. The two cousins walked out into the cool night air for a stroll.
"So, tell me," Lorian said, casually resting his arm on Lyssian's shoulder, a gesture of dominance masked as brotherhood. "What is troubling my dear cousin?"
Lyssian tilted his head back, staring up at the starry canopy. He exhaled a long, shaky breath and turned a sad smile toward Lorian. "Father is dead."
The news hit Lorian like a physical blow. "What? Are you sure? I mean..."
"Cassian Throne," Lyssian continued, his eyes glistening in the dark. "The man who dreamed of ousting Elmsworth, who wanted to be the most influential power on this continent... he died like a nobody. His throat slit and his corpse tossed into a gutter like a stray dog."
"Trust me, brother... I..." Lorian instinctively gripped Lyssian's arm.
Lyssian gently freed himself from the grip. That same sad smile remained. "I know, Lorian. I know it wasn't your doing. It wasn't anyone from Veridia. It was the Empire."
Lorian froze, "Tell me everything. In detail."
"Have you heard of the Gilded Shroud?" Lyssian asked.
"Yes," Lorian murmured, "If I'm not mistaken, they are the very group we are fighting, the group which dedicated to dismantling Veridia. I have found this name multiple times in the ceased documents, and..." He hesitated to finish the sentence.
Lyssian finished it for him, "...and they are the organization my father, Cassian Throne, served."
Lorian nodded, remaining silent.
"After his assassination, I took his seat in the Shroud. My instructions are simple- play the mole, plot against you, and help them dismantle Veridia from within." Lyssian spoke as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
"So, the membership is hereditary, and so is the goal," Lorian smirked, "But you still haven't said why you're here telling me this."
"I'm getting to that," Lyssian resumed, "I never knew my father was part of a conspiracy. I only knew he felt the Obsidian Throne was his by right and that he was gathering 'loyalists' to take it back. It was only the night we fled Veridia that I realized he had stepped into something far darker. On our way to the Wilds, he told me, for the first time, about the Gilded Shroud. They believe in toppling 'false' rulers to place 'rightful' ones. They think that only with their chosen people in power can humanity walk a path of righteousness."
What a cliché, pathetic goal, Lorian thought, though he didn't interrupt.
"The last night I saw him, we were at an inn in the Wilds," Lyssian said. "He left for a meeting with the Shroud and didn't return. I waited, terrified, as the night grew long. Near dawn, an orc appeared at my door and told me to follow him. I was too desperate to care if it was a trap. I followed him like a dog. It was the longest walk of my life. Eventually, I saw a group gathered around something near a narrow drainage ditch. Do you know who I saw standing there?"
"Who?"
"Duke Azgar Zorat." Lyssian's smile was now laced with pure mockery and frustration, "As soon as he saw me, he rushed over and hugged me. He wept, explaining how sorry he was that he couldn't save my father. He claimed that after their meeting, father stepped outside alone. Azgar went to check on him, only to see a group of men trying to kidnap him. He claimed that when the kidnappers saw him coming, they panicked, slit my father's throat, and fled. And he claimed that with his dying breath, my father told him to protect me- and to tell me that it was you, Lorian, who had sent the killers, to avenge your father."
"A convenient story," Lorian commented grimly, "Why didn't you believe it?"
"My father wasn't a man who would surrender to a kidnapping without a fight. Yet his clothes were intact. No dust, no dirt, no signs of a struggle. It was a clear instant execution. And..." Lyssian paused, his voice dropping.
"And?"
"And, if you haven't noticed, our Veridian soldiers use a specific, functional 'Basalt Knot' for their gear- it is efficient and easy to cut. But the ropes on my father's wrists? They were tied with a 'Double-Laced Hitch'- a complex, ornamental knot used almost exclusively by the Imperial Navy."
Lorian's eyes narrowed, "Well, what if I had simply hired an Imperial assassin?"
Lyssian looked directly into Lorian's eyes, "Because you are a Throne. You would never outsource a political assassination to a third party. If you wanted him dead, you would have sent Throne Assassins. You wouldn't leave a job like that to a mercenary."
Lorian inwardly appreciated the deduction. Lyssian was sharper than he remembered, "So, you've come here because you were forced to act as a mole for the Shroud?"
"I wish it were that simple, brother," Lyssian said, his voice trembling slightly, "Why else would I be afraid for my life if I were simply following their orders?"