"The political manoeuvring of the past few days was instigated by a hidden party. Members of the Merchant Guild—more than likely a powerful faction unhappy with the loss of western trade—propelled Argus and his cohorts into action." I provided him with the broader details of my suspicions.
"I harboured my own suspicions as well," Cato deduced, tapping his chin. "Argus is a man who will not lift a finger if it does not benefit him personally. For him to spearhead such a risky motion meant that his coffers were being filled to the brim."
"It is highly probable that the merchants who stand to lose the most—even with the Imperial Coffers subsidizing their losses—are making a desperate bid to safeguard their wealth," I concurred.
"The fault lies in them for constantly risking bandit attacks trying to pass their goods through the forest away from the usual trade routes." He paused thinking to himself. "Argus has many patrons within the guild, to say nothing of the Senators who seconded his motion. Yet, it is highly unlikely he will reveal his benefactors to us if formally interrogated," Cato noted.
"What do you suggest we do?" I asked.
"We must have him followed to monitor his movements. See who he meets and consorts within the shadows. From there, we can trace his connections to the guild and narrow down our suspects," he advised.
"That is as good a plan as any. I trust you can oversee this inquiry in my absence. I will have several of my own operatives attached to you for support and keep me apprised," I commanded.
"As you wish, Princeps," he said, bowing his head.
"It is getting late; we will continue this discussion later. Would you care to accompany me for dinner?" I offered.
"I thank you for the gracious invitation, Princeps, but these old bones require rest. I fear I must retire for the night," he said apologetically.
"Very well." I stood up, picked up the Macallan bottle, and handed it to him. "Drink it with care."
"Thank you, Dominus."
We departed from the solar together. As Cato took his leave down the corridor, I headed toward my private chambers, my appetite finally catching up with me.
"Have the kitchens bring my usual dinner to my room," I ordered the Praetorian guard trailing behind me.
…
It was early the next morning when I was summoned by Father into his private chambers. This was certainly odd, considering Father did not usually call for me to break our fast together. Dressed only in my sleeping garments, I made my way to his chambers, where the Praetorian guards promptly stepped aside to let me in.
It was a vast, spacious room, with several classical paintings decorating the smooth marble walls. A massive, king-sized bed draped in heavy red silk occupied the left half of the room, flanked by matching side tables and a towering wardrobe. In the center sat Father's desk—an ornate wooden table far too large for one man yet still cluttered with mountainous paperwork and the strange magical trinkets he experimented with so often. On the right was a modest dining table surrounded by five chairs. Father sat at one of them, quietly eating his breakfast.
"Good morrow, Father," I said, taking a seat opposite him while a serving maid hurriedly readied a plate for me. I might as well break my fast, I thought.
"Octavian," Father said in acknowledgment. He took a slow sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving the sealed parchment in his other hand.
I could not sate my curiosity for long. "To what do I owe this early summons, Father?"
He did not speak immediately, instead extending the parchment across the table to me.
I took it, breaking the seal, as Father finally elaborated. "It arrived just this morning. It was handed to one of the palace guards by a street child, who promptly attempted to run away. After catching the boy, the guards found he had been given the parchment by a hooded man and instructed to deliver it directly to the palace gates. For his troubles, the boy was given a single denarius."
While listening to Father, I scanned the contents of the document. "A formal peace agreement, bearing the official seal of the High Council of Qohor," I noted. "They seem to be growing desperate. But what is even more curious is how fast this arrived, considering the Senate only finished its deliberations yesterday evening."
"Your thoughts?" Father asked.
"It is highly likely that this comes from one of the instigators of yesterday's failed motion, considering we banished all official Qohorik envoys from the city moons ago," I surmised.
"Indeed. How do you plan to deal with it?" he prodded.
At his questioning, the pieces of a trap had already begun forming in my mind. I offered him a cold smile. "This gives us a rare opportunity to follow the thief directly back to his lair. We can publicly denounce this backdoor action and dramatically reject the proposal before the Senate floor. That act can then be used to pin sharp questions directly onto Senator Argus and his cohorts. We will question how miraculously fast a Qohorik peace agreement arrived mere hours after the Senate was debating that exact topic. It will spook them, forcing them to scramble and leading our spies straight to the true instigator and his entire breed, if not all of them."
"A sound proposal," Father acquiesced. "You can certainly set the trap in motion today, but its ends will have to be met by someone else. You will be on the battlefield before the snare snaps shut."
"I have put the right people to the task. They will see it through," I assured him, thinking of Cato.
Father gave a single, satisfied nod before turning his entire focus back to the food before him. I did the same.