Tirian's thoughts churned long after the plates were cleared. "A mole…?" he muttered under his breath, his resolve hardening as the realization settled deeper. I always suspected spies in my palace—maids, servants, minor officials perhaps… but this?
His jaw tightened. "Forged letters carrying Veridelle's insignia?" he continued, shaking his head. "That requires access. Someone capable of intercepting royal correspondence."
His eyes darkened. "That could only means someone high within Eldoria. Someone I personally chose... No one else would have access to any official letters."
The thought clearly angered him.
Sol, noticing the storm brewing in Tirian's expression, leaned back with a careful but playful grin. "Well… I could always help with that," he said casually.
Tirian looked at him.
Sol shrugged. "I do happen to have a few spies inside your palace." Tirian only froze.
As Sol waved a hand lazily, he continued on. "Nothing serious! Just people who pass along interesting gossip. Palace romances, scandals, little rumors." He grinned mischievously. "Your court is far more entertaining than you realize. You have quite a few sweet love stories unfolding behind those walls—"
Tirian's eyes narrowed sharply. "You have spies in my home?" His voice rose before he could stop it.
Sol blinked, surprised by the intensity. "Relax," he said lightly. "They're harmless. They mostly report amusing chatter. It keeps me entertained."
"Remove them before I return." Tirian's voice had turned ice cold. "If they're still there when I arrive—" His words halted when he noticed Orielle watching him with quiet concern.
He cleared his throat, temper reined back in. "Pull them out," he finished more calmly. "Unless you want their blood on your hands."
Sol studied him for a moment… then laughed. "Alright, alright." He leaned forward again. "But before we call them home… why not make use of them?" Tirian frowned.
"They're already inside your palace. If there truly is a mole among your high officials, they could quietly investigate."
Tirian rubbed his temple in irritation. "If they're still there when I return, they won't li—" He stopped himself again. Taking a breath, he corrected, "Just make sure they're gone before I get back."
Sol smiled in satisfaction. "Done." Then he added thoughtfully, "Actually… it might be beneficial for you to remain here a little longer."
Tirian crossed his arms. "?"
Sol continued more seriously now. "If the mole believes you're still unaware of their existence, they'll continue acting normally. But if you suddenly return to Eldoria in search of them, they might grow cautious."
He tapped the table thoughtfully. "With you and Orielle here in Veridelle, the mole would assume you're distracted by politics or recovery. Meanwhile, our spies could observe quietly without raising suspicion."
Tirian considered that. "You're suggesting we leave them believing their deception still holds."
"Exactly."
Tirian leaned back slowly. "Even so… I'll need to send word to my palace. Someone must confirm that nothing unusual has occurred in my absence. If someone orchestrated this to lure me here…" He exhaled slowly. "…there are too many possibilities."
Sol nodded. "That's reasonable. But... if you could keep it to a minimum of who knows... Since we know... it's most likely someone you trust. "
After a moment, Tirian gave a reluctant shrug. "Fine. We stay—for now."
Sol smiled widely. "Excellent."
The tension at the table eased slightly.
Conversation gradually drifted toward more mundane matters—the trade agreements between Veridelle and Eldoria, shipments of grain, textiles, enchanted metals, and the steady exchange of technologies the two kingdoms had built over the years.
That shift was exactly the opportunity Loven had been waiting for.
He leaned forward eagerly. "Perfect timing," he said. "I actually have a proposal I've been developing."
Tirian sighed quietly. "Of course you do."
Loven ignored him. "New naval vessels," he said proudly. "Ships powered by mana emblems—similar to the Aetherion, but designed for ocean travel." He spread his hands. "Imagine fleets crossing the sea at incredible speeds."
Tirian snorted. "We barely use the Aetherion you gifted us years ago. Why would I gamble on something even larger that could fail spectacularly?"
"Mana-emblem machines rarely fail if properly maintained," Loven replied quickly. "There have been no recorded incidents."
Tirian leaned back, laughing. "Maybe not here. Eldoria doesn't produce mana emblems. I'd have to buy those as well."
He smirked. "Everything becomes business with you Veridellians."
Sol jumped in with a grin. "Oh come now, Ty. Buy the ships and we'll throw in a few emblems as a gift?"
Loven sighed heavily. Sol waved a hand. "Fine, fine. We'll offer a discount. Call it a peace offering." Loven finally added
Tirian shook his head slowly, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "We'll see." He tapped his fingers against the table casually. "I recently found my own shipbuilder anyway. His proposal seemed far more... promising."
Loven blinked. "Someone else?" He leaned forward in disbelief. "Impossible! No engineer could rival Veridelle's naval designers—" He suddenly realized he had raised his voice toward a king.
Loven stiffened, adjusting his robe collar quickly. "My apologies… Your Majesty. I simply meant that the likelihood of a vessel surpassing ours is extremely slim."
Tirian chuckled. His hand rested firmly on the table, the quiet authority of his presence stopping Loven from continuing. "The ship that brought me here," Tirian said casually, "made the journey in a single day."
Silence.
Sol's eyes widened with excitement. "A day?" he whispered.
Loven stared in pure disbelief. "No… that's impossible." He shook his head rapidly. "A standard ship requires four days. Ours cut the journey to two and a half."
His voice rose. "How could any vessel cross the sea in a single day?"
Sol burst out laughing. "Brother! Ty arrived the same day Orielle did, didn't he? With everything happening I completely forgot to question it!"
Loven stared between them, stunned. Then he slowly turned toward Orielle. She was calmly eating fruit while watching the conversation unfold like an audience member enjoying a play.
Loven rubbed his face. "…a day," he repeated weakly.
Tirian leaned comfortably back into his chair, clearly pleased. "Well," he said lazily, "I suppose Veridelle can't compete." A teasing smirk tugged at his lips. "Perhaps one day it will be your kingdom purchasing Eldoria's technology instead." He laughed warmly.
Across the table, Orielle watched him. Seeing him relaxed like this—laughing, teasing, acting like an ordinary man rather than the feared king whispered about across kingdoms—made something in her chest soften.
Her eyes shimmered briefly. She quickly wiped them before anyone noticed and dipped a piece of bread into olive oil, smiling quietly to herself as she took a bite.
Meanwhile, Loven had not recovered. "No," he said suddenly, straightening in his chair. "No! Veridelle will improve soon!"
He pointed a finger towards the sea. "Our new prototype vessel is only months from completion. You will see."
Tirian shrugged. "Perhaps."
Sol leaned toward his brother with a mischievous grin. "I told you Tirian wouldn't budge." He chuckled. "But no—someone insisted we try to sell the ships anyway."
Loven glared. "It was a perfectly reasonable attempt."
Sol laughed again. "Yes, yes. Of course."
The conversation drifted on, gradually fading into lighter banter as the evening wore on. And somewhere beneath the laughter and teasing… The shadow of an unseen enemy still lingered quietly over the table.
*****
Inside Orielle's chamber, the quiet scratch of parchment filled the room.
Tirian sat at a small table, sorting through documents that had followed him from Eldoria. Reports, letters, and notes were spread across the polished wood as he read through them.
Across the room, Orielle sat with a small cup of tea cradled in her hands. A book nestled on her lap.
She tried to occupy herself with the warmth of the drink… but every few moments, her eyes drifted back toward him. Watching. Studying. Admiring.
Without lifting his gaze from the papers, Tirian finally spoke. "Am I truly that pleasing to look at," he said calmly, "or do you actually have something you wish to say?"
Orielle nearly choked on her tea. Her cheeks flushed bright red. "Why are you always so forward!" she protested. "Can't you be romantic for once? See my longing and just know that I miss you?"
Tirian's lips curved into a slow smirk as he finally set the papers aside. "But I'm right here," he said as he stood. "How exactly are you missing me?"
He walked over and leaned down behind her chair, resting one arm casually along its back. He stared down to the pages of her book.
His voice lowered playfully. "Is this better, little fox?"
Orielle grinned, a pout forming. Then she shoved him away. "No," she declared, standing abruptly. "I'm bored now."
She turned toward him, pretending to be sad. "Two weeks, Tirian. Two whole weeks, and all you've done is bury yourself in work." She folded her arms. "I thought we were going to explore Veridelle together." She turned away from his gaze with exaggerated disappointment.
Behind her, Tirian stared for a moment. By the gods… how is she so… edible… He stepped forward quietly. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her gently against him.
Because she was much shorter, he had to bend slightly to rest his chin atop her head. Orielle immediately tried to wiggle free.
"You've already seen quite a few places," he murmured against her hair. "Are you saying you want to see more?"
She huffed in frustration. "What's the point if I can't explore at least one place with you?" She turned slightly in his hold. "There's a cave by the sea. The maids say lovers go there to pray together. They say the gods sometimes grant wishes made there."
Tirian tightened his arms around her slightly and lowered his head to rest against her shoulder. "A wish?" he asked softly. "If it's something within my power… couldn't I grant it instead?"
Orielle fell silent. For a moment she simply stood there, thinking. Then she smiled faintly and placed her hands over his. "Well… you probably could."
Her cheeks flushed again. "But for good measure… I'd rather ask the gods too." Tirian noticed the deeper blush immediately.
Clearly whatever she wanted was something she didn't intend to say aloud. He frowned slightly. "I thought you didn't grow up following the gods," he said. "And now you suddenly want to ask them for favors?"
Orielle smiled nervously.
"Well… I thought maybe the reason they wanted me gone before…" she said quietly, "was because I never prayed to them." She twisted the fabric of her dress shyly between her fingers.
Tirian's expression shifted. "That's not—" He paused. A troubling thought flickered through his mind. Would the gods truly be that petty…? He brushed the thought aside. "What is it you want to ask them for?" he asked instead. "Can't you tell me? If it's something I can give you, I will."
Orielle shook her head gently. "No… I'll pray to them instead." She nodded to herself as if confirming the decision. "Yes. That's better."
Tirian sighed and released her. He stepped away, walking toward the door. Then he turned and extended his hand toward her. "Alright then," he said. "Let's go."
A playful glint returned to his eyes. "But you'll have to pray out loud." He smirked. "I refuse to compete with gods for your wishes."
Orielle laughed and slipped her hand into his. Together they left the chamber. They descended the palace stairways side by side, the distant sound of waves growing louder with every step.
By the time they stepped outside the palace gates, the cool sea breeze welcomed them. Even though there were knights following close behind neither bothered to care. And hand in hand, they began making their way toward the coast.