Two days before the festival.
I stood in the armory. The short sword I had held the day before was still on the rack. But this time, I wasn't alone.
Kael stood across the room. In his hands, he gripped a longsword—one of the few that wasn't entirely eaten by rust. His face was drenched in sweat; he had been training since dawn.
"Father never taught me much," he said suddenly, his voice low. "Just the basics. How to grip. How to strike. That was all."
I watched him. "Why?"
Kael shrugged. "He said... he didn't want me to be a knight. He wanted me to be a Count. A leader. Not a fighter." He swung the blade through the air. The movement was stiff. "But look at us now. I'm no Count. And I can't even protect my siblings."
I stepped closer, scrutinizing his posture. His feet were too close together; his shoulders, too rigid.
"Your feet," I said.
Kael turned. "What?"
"Widen your stance. Don't keep them so close, or you'll be easily toppled."
He hesitated, but then he followed my lead. His posture improved instantly.
"Your shoulders. Drop them. You're too tense. You're wasting energy."
He lowered them. His next movement was noticeably more fluid.
"Where did you learn all this?" he asked, his eyes searching mine with a mix of suspicion and awe.
I fell silent. Where had I learned it?
I didn't remember practicing the blade. Yet, the moment I saw someone hold one, I knew exactly what was wrong. It was an instinct. It was as if... I had trained people before.
I trained someone. Many people. My subordinates.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "But try again. Strike forward. Slowly. Feel your balance."
Kael tried. It was better. Still far from perfect, but better.
"I'll keep practicing," he said. "Until I can do it."
I nodded. "Don't die before then."
A smirk played on his lips. It was the first time I saw something other than rage or exhaustion on his face. "I don't plan to."
I left Kael in the armory. In the hallway, I ran into Vina. She was carrying a stack of ancient books, her face weary but her eyes bright with excitement.
"Mother! I found something."
We sat in the library. Vina opened one of the books, its pages yellowed and the ink faded.
"These are Father's financial records from years ago," she said, pointing to a specific entry. "Look. There's a recurring monthly expense. The amount is always the same, sent to the same address. But there's no mention of what it was for."
I looked at the figures. They weren't massive, but they were consistent. Every month. For years.
"What's the address?"
Vina turned the page. "That's the strange part. The address is incomplete. It's just a code: 'E.E. – Northern Branch.'"
E.E.
The Eternal Eye.
"Is there more?"
Vina nodded and opened another book—an old journal, not the one I had found in the basement. This one was older, its cover nearly falling off.
"This is Father's writing from when he was young." She pointed to a paragraph. "He wrote about 'oath-brothers.' About a 'vow taken beneath the full moon.'"
Oath-brothers. A vow.
"The Count was a member of an organization," I whispered. "The Eternal Eye."
Vina stared at me. "What kind of organization?"
I hesitated, but Vina had proven her worth. "A secret one. I found their symbol in his other diary. An eye within a circle."
Vina's eyes widened. "So Father was... a spy?"
"Or something else. I don't know." I stared at the books before her. "Keep searching. Anything about 'E.E.' or 'oath-brothers.' We need to know if they are allies or enemies."
"I won't stop," Vina promised.
In the afternoon, Reno returned to the castle.
I found him in the dining hall, gulping down water as if he were parched. His face was grimy, his clothes covered in dust.
"Where did you go?" I asked.
Reno set his glass down and smirked. "The village."
I waited for him to continue.
"Marquis Vellon didn't come to this territory alone," he explained. "He has an accomplice in the village. A merchant named Harkon. He's the one lending money to the villagers at high interest. He's the one reporting to the Marquis whenever someone can't pay."
"Harkon."
Reno nodded. "He has a warehouse on the outskirts of the village. I watched it all day. Many people going in and out. They weren't farmers. They were armed men."
A small base.
"Good," I said. "That's the first one."
Reno looked at me. "The first? What do you mean, Mother?"
I locked eyes with him. "We can't attack the Marquis directly yet. He's too powerful. But we can cut off his limbs one by one. Harkon is the first."
Reno's smirk widened. "I like the way you think."
That night, Sera came to my room.
She entered without knocking, her face pale and her hands trembling.
"Mother... I heard something."
I closed the Count's diary. "What is it?"
"The Head Butler. He... he was talking to someone. In the kitchen. I couldn't see who, but I heard the voices."
"What did he say?"
Sera swallowed hard. "He said... 'The timing isn't right. The Countess still knows nothing. We must wait.' Then another voice—a man's voice—said, 'Three days. The Festival. If she doesn't come, we'll come to her.'"
My blood boiled.
The Head Butler. The man who had been playing the role of a loyal servant. He was the Marquis's mole.
"Sera." My voice was calm—dangerously calm. "Are you certain it was him?"
She nodded rapidly. "I know his voice, Mother. He's been in this castle since I was born."
I took a deep breath. So, the Marquis knew our every move. He had eyes and ears inside our very home.
"Have you told the others?"
Sera shook her head. "Only you. I... I was scared."
"Good." I looked at her. "Tell no one else. Not yet. Let me handle it."
Sera nodded, but she lingered. "Mother... what are you going to do to him?"
I fell silent. It was the same question I had once asked myself. What does one do with a traitor?
And the answer... came naturally.
"What needs to be done."
Sera left. I sat alone in my room, the Count's diary in my lap, but my mind was elsewhere.
The Head Butler. Three days. The Festival.
The Marquis wanted to meet at the festival. It was a trap. But now that I knew he had a spy inside, it meant he would know any plan I made... unless I made a plan that no one else knew about.
I needed to move alone.
In the corner of my vision, the blue screen flickered.
[ SOUL GUIDE SYSTEM – SLEEP MODE ]
[ Data Recovery: 10% ]
[ New Fragment Detected: "Facing Traitors". ]
[ Description: ██████ You have been betrayed before. You know what must be done. ]
[ Query: Continue recovery? ]
I stared at the screen.
"Not now," I whispered. "I already know what I have to do."
The screen vanished.
I stood up and walked to the window, staring at the darkened castle grounds.
You want to meet at the festival, Marquis?
Fine. I'll be there.
But you won't be meeting the Countess you underestimated.
You'll be meeting someone far darker.