Word of Mark's 'reckless' reforms, fueled by Lord Corvus and Duke Alaric's lingering propaganda, began to ripple through the court and spread like wildfire among the common populace. Whispers of a 'boy prince' meddling in affairs beyond his grasp, of 'disrespecting sacred tradition,' and even of 'endangering the kingdom' circulated freely, amplified by disgruntled merchants losing their illicit monopolies and nobles who resented any challenge to their established privileges. The King himself, while still outwardly supporting Mark, was subtly pressured in private audiences, his more conservative advisors subtly suggesting Mark's youthful zeal might be 'misguided' and 'too disruptive' for the kingdom's delicate state.
One crisp morning, the palace's grand courtyard buzzed with activity. It was the monthly public assembly, traditionally a forum for the King to address his people and showcase new agricultural initiatives. Lord Corvus, ever the opportunist, seized this moment to publicly challenge Mark. Stepping forward from the assembled nobles, his voice booming to carry over the crowd, he addressed Mark directly. "Your Highness," he began, his tone oozing with false deference, "while your youthful enthusiasm for the kingdom's betterment is certainly noted, the common folk yearn for stability, not abstract 'economic audits.' The recent spike in banditry on our trade routes, the monsters encroaching ever closer to our towns – surely these are the pressing matters, not arcane discussions of 'black stones' that no one understands!" He swept his gaze across the assembled faces, noting the fear in the eyes of human farmers and the grim nods of dwarven merchants, hoping to capitalize on their anxieties.
A murmur of agreement ran through the diverse crowd – a mix of human farmers, dwarven merchants, elven artisans, and a smattering of beastfolk traders. Corvus was playing directly to their fears, twisting the truth to paint Mark's reforms as distractions from immediate dangers. He hoped to turn public opinion against the young prince. Even among the beastfolk, known for their pragmatic view, there were signs of doubt.
Mark, however, was prepared. He had anticipated this precise maneuver. He stepped forward, his posture regal yet approachable, his gaze calm and unwavering as he projected his voice across the assembly. "Indeed, Lord Corvus," Mark replied, his tone firm but respectful, allowing no hint of the seething anger he felt. "And rest assured, the Royal Guard is addressing these threats with renewed vigor. In fact, due to the recent audit of our supply chains – those 'abstract' measures you dismiss – we have identified significant redundancies and savings that will allow us to immediately equip and deploy an additional company of border patrols!"
He then gestured to a newly arrived figure, who strode purposefully into the center of the courtyard. It was Captain Lysandra, a seasoned, no-nonsense Human commander of the Royal Guard. Her armor was meticulously maintained, her expression one of quiet competence. Lysandra was a veteran of countless border skirmishes, known for her unimpeachable integrity and fierce, unwavering loyalty to the Crown. Mark had quietly brought her into his confidence in the days following the ambush, and she had proven instrumental in weeding out the minor corrupt elements he'd identified within the Guard's quartermaster ranks. She was a woman of action, not words, and her presence spoke volumes.
"Thanks to Prince Mark's efforts in streamlining our provisions," Captain Lysandra declared, her voice clear and strong, cutting through the murmuring crowd, "we have already secured and outfitted these new patrols. They have been deployed as of this morning to critical sections of the Whisperwood and the Northern Roads. The trade routes will soon be safer for all. Merchants, prepare your caravans!"
The crowd murmured again, this time with a mixture of surprise, cautious optimism, and a budding sense of pride. This was tangible, immediate relief, not abstract promises. Corvus visibly faltered, his carefully constructed attack blunted by Mark's foresight and Lysandra's authoritative confirmation. Mark hadn't revealed the full extent of the conspiracy, but he had effectively shown that his 'abstract audits' had immediate, real-world benefits for the common people.
Meanwhile, deep within the treacherous Whisperwood, Ben and Alfred executed their covert mission. They moved like shadows, their senses heightened, their movements silent, navigating the familiar, yet now more menacing, terrain. They spent two grueling days tracking and observing, noting new, heavily fortified bandit encampments and unusually aggressive monster patrols. Finally, under the cover of a thick mist at dawn, they ambushed a small group of Duke Alaric's mercenaries returning from a successful raid on a minor village. They didn't kill; instead, they relied on Ben's mastery of non-lethal takedowns and Alfred's surprisingly effective, magically enhanced disabling spells. One bandit, a grizzled veteran named Kael with a haunted look in his eyes, was swiftly subdued and brought back, bound and gagged, to a secret, rarely used cellar beneath the palace.
In the damp, musty confines of the cellar, under the harsh glare of a single mana-lamp, the interrogation began. Ben, with his stoic, unwavering gaze and quiet intimidation, stood watch. Alfred, surprisingly, took on the 'good cop' routine. "Look, mate," Alfred began, his voice surprisingly gentle, despite his blood-stained sleeve, "we just want to know who's paying you. Spill the truth, tell us everything about Duke Alaric, and maybe you see the outside of a dungeon cell and not the inside of a royal executioner's block." He even offered Kael a gulp of water, a surprising gesture of humanity.
Kael, battered and terrified, initially tried to feign ignorance, then offered partial truths, testing their resolve. He knew the stakes. But Alfred's persistence, coupled with Ben's silent, unblinking presence, eventually broke him. He confirmed Alaric's involvement, detailing the generous payments, the precise rendezvous points deep within the Duke's vast, private forest reserves, and the Duke's explicit orders to disrupt trade and spread chaos, all calculated to undermine the new Prince's burgeoning authority and the kingdom's fragile recovery. "He keeps everything," Kael croaked, his voice raspy, "the Duke, he trusts no one, not even his own shadow. There's a ledger, a heavy one, in his steward's private study."
Back in the palace, a few hours later, Ellaine, exhausted but triumphant, presented her findings to Mark in his private study. Her magic had indeed picked up faint, recurring magical signatures, almost imperceptible, emanating from Duke Alaric's manor. These signatures traced a complex, clandestine network of communication, reaching out to known bandit strongholds and even some remote, monster-infested territories. "The signatures are faint," she explained, her voice hoarse from mana exertion, "but consistent with covert communication spells, Your Highness. Spells designed to be untraceable by common means. And the patterns of mana use, their duration and intensity, align perfectly with the dates of the reported attacks." She indicated a complex web of glowing lines on a magically conjured map, demonstrating the undeniable connections. Her magic also revealed faint traces of an unnatural growth spell on some of the wolf tracks, confirming their mutation was unnatural.
With Kael's coerced but corroborated confession, Captain Lysandra's testimony regarding the immediate impact of Mark's audit, Ben's retrieved insignia, and Ellaine's undeniable magical tracing, they now had a terrifyingly complete picture of Duke Alaric's treachery. The serpent had shown its fangs, attempting to poison the very lifeblood of etabsam, but Mark had gathered his allies, and now, they were ready to strike.