Dilrik held an emergency meeting inside the country's defense headquarters immediately after they released the statement, and the conference room was suffocatingly tense.
Large digital screens still displayed the aftermath of both strikes they had hit Surbrind with today within a span of hours.
Prime Minister George stood at the head of the long table, one hand pressed against it while military officials and intelligence directors sat around him in exhausted silence.
The statement Dilrik released had shifted public opinion in the best way imaginable, but all of it was because of an anonymous intelligence they had received immediately after King Deema's gloating, exposing exactly what the king had done, and it had prompted the second strike they made.
But who could have been generous enough to send such information?
George removed his glasses slowly and rubbed his tired eyes. He had no idea the intelligence had been fed to them and not actually discovered by his people.
"Tell me again," he said, "where exactly we received the intelligence regarding Subrind's relocated weapons."
Across from him, Director James of military intelligence straightened immediately.
"It arrived through an encrypted anonymous channel approximately thirty-six minutes after King Deema's public address."
"Anonymous," the prime minister repeated.
"Yes, Prime Minister."
"Meaning no traceable sender."
"...Yes."
The room fell silent again.
George suddenly slammed both palms onto the table.
The sharp sound startled several officials.
"And you people accepted intelligence capable of triggering an international incident from a faceless sender?!"
No one answered.
Because they had.
The intelligence had been accurate.
Satellite scans conducted before the strike confirmed traces of military-grade explosives in the market.
George began pacing, his expression darkening further with every step.
"What if this was manipulation?" he demanded. "What if someone intentionally baited us into jumping into a trap?"
One of the ministers on sit frowned. "But sir, the information was correct."
George looked sharply at him.
"That does not make the sender our ally."
The room quieted completely.
This intelligence only meant one of two things:
Either someone inside Subrind had betrayed King Deema or someone frighteningly close to the king himself was trying to drag Dilrik into a well-laid trap.
"Track the sender." George ordered
Director James hesitated. "Sir, we've already tried. The transmission bounced through multiple dead servers and stolen military satellites before reaching us. Whoever sent it knew exactly how to erase their tracks."
"I don't care if you have to tear apart every intelligence network in this country." George's voice dropped dangerously low. "I want the exact individual responsible found."
"Yes, Prime Minister."
George looked back toward the screen; something about this entire situation felt wrong to him.
Too precise and easy.
He had survived politics long enough to know that when events aligned this perfectly, someone was usually pulling the strings for some usually bad reasons.
---
"Done, Master."
Craig's voice broke the silence inside the hotel suite.
Isaac stood before the mirror, calmly buttoning the sleeves of a fresh black shirt. The suite was dimly lit and untouched except for the faint scent of soap lingering from the cold shower he had taken earlier.
He looked composed again.
"Hmmm."
That was all he gave in response.
Craig watched him carefully through the mirror and he could see a cold glint of satisfaction flash through Isaac's eyes.
The intelligence Dilrik received had come directly from Isaac.
He had handed it all over personally through an anonymous channels that they could never be trace.
Why?
Because he wanted to destroy King Deema.
Originally it was supposed to happen later, but King Deema had been stupid enough to gloat on social media, and Isaac used that opportunity to make it look like Dilrik had dug up information themselves because the king's gloating embarrassed them.
"I would have company in Subrind soon," Isaac said calmly as he adjusted his cuffs. "Let's go."
Craig understood immediately the king would go to find him in his cage soon.
Which meant Isaac needed to move faster.
"Yes, Master."
They exited the suite quietly.
---
Somewhere deep within Dilrik's lower district, Leon was eating spicy chicken wings.
Not in some aristocratic establishment worthy of his upbringing and countenance but in a local roadside canteen.
Plastic chairs and cheap tables dominated the pace, an old fan spinning lazily overhead and peeling walls. There was nothing extra at all.
He had even emptied the whole place for himself because of course he was Leon and no one understands what goes on in his head; his armed men now occupied every corner casually, rifles visible beneath their loose jackets, while terrified workers stayed near the kitchen, pretending not to stare.
Leon sat comfortably at the center table with a massive bowl of bright red chicken wings before him.
Beside him stood his secretary, a bald man with a faint Indian accent.
"Sir."
The secretary handed him a tablet respectfully.
Leon took it lazily, slipping one earbud into his ear while continuing to eat.
A recording began playing.
Sienna's office, every interaction from the moment Isaac entered to the moment Craig interrupted them.
Leon chewed thoughtfully while listening to the kiss in complete silence.
Then sighed dramatically.
"The prince of Subrind is certainly daring."
Crunch!
Another wing disappeared between his teeth.
"But I don't think I want him with my sister."
The secretary remained expressionless.
"I mean..." Leon licked sauce from his thumb thoughtfully. "What right does he have?"
Behind the counter, the chef and his wife stared at him in muted horror.
Because Leon was casually devouring chicken coated in the hottest spice mixture they had ever created.
People usually cried after one bite.
Leon, however, looked so relaxed he could take a nap.
Suddenly, his eyes brightened as he scrolled further down the tablet.
"Oh?"
An exciting information appeared onscreen.
His secretary had managed to uncover that Isaac had sent the anonymous intelligence to Dilrik's government.
Leon smiled evilly.
"How ruthless. Perhaps I'll pardon him temporarily."
Another bite.
Then:
"I want everything about him."
"Yes, sir."
Just then, Leon's phone rang.
The caller ID displayed:
Annoying first uncle.
It was the first young master of the Devereaux family.
Leon answered casually while still eating.
"Leon." The voice on the other end sounded furious. "I told you this operation is not a game."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Leon cut him off before he could finish.
"I'll see you after my mission."
"Leon…"
He disconnected the call before more could come and then tossed the phone aside carelessly.