2412, Iclis 07, Daleth

Tobin munched on the lemper leg like he meant it. The sweet sauce dribbled down his hands as he tore another chunk off the juicy meat. They really should make more of these for the days to come. On the foot of the dais stood the Sovereign, a frown coloring the edges of her lips. She didn't look too happy watching a king dine in his own throne room.

"Are we in agreement, Your Majesty?" she prompted again after Tobin let the sound of his chewing take over the conversation she's trying to start. Her gaze trained towards the bulk growing in Tobin's stomach which he rubbed just to spite her. "I need confirmation since I have other places to be in time for the siege."

Other places to conquer, more like. Tobin was still of sound mind, but he had gone out of his way to make it seem as if he wasn't. It was part of the plan, and for the plan to work, he would have to make his performance so convincing the Sovereign wouldn't suspect anything.

The Sovereign had visited countless times and did nothing but pressure him to add more men to hotspots in the Commons, to double the quota imposed upon the Civil Guards with the purges, to open a drafting call and recruit more people to the army. Blah, blah, blah. Tobin didn't know why she bothered to put up with him when she could just stage a coup with her prized army and take over Cardina. Why would she need a puppet king in the first place? Would she kill Tobin if she had no use for him anymore?

This morning, however, it was a different tune. The Sovereign arrived a few minutes before breakfast was served, so Tobin had it brought to the throne room instead, while they had the audience. Then, she dropped the bomb. "Have the Civil Corps take over the Temple."

Tobin remembered almost dropping the lemper leg he had just picked up with his fingers from the array on the plate. He was sure a drop of the brown-black sauce splattered into his trousers. "What now?" he asked, his tone echoing inside the empty hall in such a dumb squeak.

The Sovereign had sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Your Majesty, we need to make sure the Temple does not house the infidels fleeing from the Disfavoreds and Commons," she said. "There is currently a mass exodus happening in the farthest regions towards the Nobility. I am sure they are aiming for the Temple."

Tobin had no idea about how the Temple operated, so he rolled his shoulders and pretended he believed every word the Sovereign spewed. He had leaned back on his seat and sank his teeth into the steaming meat. The sweet-savory flavor flooding his tongue almost made him squeal with joy, but he toned it down because first—the Sovereign still watched him like a bird of prey about to strike, and second—he used to raise and tend to lemper herds, so eating one with such delight was an insult to those docile creatures.

"Why would there be a resistance there?" he asked instead, hoping to draw out the conversation while he thought of a way to warn the High Priestess of the incoming trouble. Sure, he'd be the most hated person in that part of the Nobility, but at least he had done all he could.

The Sovereign narrowed her eyes, the green almost flushing to a glint as red as her hair. "In case you are not aware, Your Majesty, the Temple of Magic is a separate entity from the Crown," she said. "They do not hold political power, but they are capable of providing sanctuary to anyone they deemed worthy. And if they grant such privilege to any Disfavored or Common who made it to their doors, we would never be able to chase them down."

Which went to say the Sovereign sought to dismantle the only institution capable of standing against the Crown when it comes to keeping Cardina under her thumb. She only had Tobin under her control. She wanted all of it. Obsessive, much? Tobin wondered if it was because of a personal ambition or a petty rivalry she shared with someone else. Possibly both, with how desperate she's sounding the longer Tobin drew it out.

"You should know the soldiers are already stretched too thin across the regions," he said, gulping the food down. He was close to throwing up, but he forced himself to eat more. He had to justify the fat building up in his stomach after all. "We cannot aim to pull a thread harder than it can handle because it will snap."

If the Sovereign had a sense of awe at the chunk of false wisdom Tobin just threw at her, she didn't show it. Instead, she leveled her gaze at him. "That is why we need people from Synketros," she said. "We can get it done in no time."

Ah, so that's what she wanted—to have a reason to slowly insert her people into the grand system, biding her time and planting the seeds so that in a few years, imagining society without Synketros would be next to impossible.

Tobin didn't say anything, focusing instead on stuffing his mouth with the last of the meat. It didn't quite go down the rest of the way in his throat, but he pretended it did. Silence thickened to a wall between him and the Sovereign, seconds ticking by without anything to stop them.

"Are we in agreement, Your Majesty? I need confirmation since I have other places to be in time for the siege," the Sovereign said. "The sooner we get this done, the better."

He didn't see the need to hurry, but if it was to get the Sovereign out of his hair, he'd agree. So, he swallowed the last gunk of meat and patted his bulging stomach. "Well, Cardina is affiliated with Synketros anyway," he said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. His mouth spewed everything he knew the Sovereign wanted to hear. "Your word is as good as mine."

The Sovereign's face didn't betray her satisfaction, but her shoulders did lose some of the stiffness they bore underneath the lavish cloak she wore over her long-sleeved dress. Tobin just had to consult Ariam when he returned from his trip. It's not just the purges now. He had to mind the siege against the Temple too.

"As you say, Your Majesty," the Sovereign dipped her head for a quick second before drawing back up. "But I have to say—we must be wary of people who are not what they really are."

Tobin merely blinked, presenting to her what she wanted to see—a dumb, young king who knew nothing about how to govern a territory or play a hand inside the game of politics. The Sovereign's eyes never stopped being narrowed until her entire form blinked out of existence, leaving Tobin with a stomach filled to the brim and an empty heart.

2412, Iclis 10, Velpa

Tobin paced across his room, wearing a trench against the rugs with just his boots. It had been days and the siege had started. There was little he could do, cooped up inside the palace all day. Without Ariam, he would be as good as a carcass on the side of the road. The knight knew all the hidden ways out of the Royalty region, and they seemed to be the only method to stay out of the Sovereign's radar for as long as Tobin dared.

Still, the knight hasn't returned from his journey to track the person who freed soldiers from Synketros. While he restricted himself to think of things he had control over, his mind kept flying to the possible condition his friend might have ended up in. Was he dead? Traveling? What of the information Tobin instructed him to retrieve?

Should Ariam perish, whose hands would his blood be on? Tobin's?

A shiver ran down his spine, forcing him to shake it off by increasing the speed of his pacing. His breaths racked his chest and shoulders, but he did little to stop them.

His teeth chomped down on the remaining fingernails on both hands, tearing them off their beds. It's a habit he dared not coddle back when he worked in the farms. Accidentally eating dirt and dying of a sickness because he didn't have the versallis for a cure wasn't the way he wanted to be remembered.

The door to his room swung open and, speaking of witches, Ariam stepped through. Dressed in the same set of clothes Tobin had sent him off, the young captain of the guard approached him. Ariam's eyes scanned the mess in Tobin's room—the wad of cloth he tucked underneath his coat during the Sovereign's visits, the jumble of garments strewn on the bed, the carpets, and the desk in his study, as well as the tomes about magic spread on random pages at the foot of the bed. Yeah, he made himself quite at home.

"You may want to sit down first," the Knight said after a period of silence. "I have interesting information."

Tobin made a show of looking around and eventually finding the spot by shoving the tomes away, closer to the side he slept on. The bed was large enough for four people anyway. "Have you found the Synketrian rebel?" he asked, wondering deep inside if it was a proper nickname to bestow to the only person who dared go against the Sovereign in such a public spectacle.

"I found more than that," Ariam said, turning to dig around in the small pouch stuck to his belt. He drew a sheet of folded parchment and passed it towards Tobin. "Read it and tell me what you think."

Tobin gave the soldier one last concerned glance before flicking the parchment open with his thumb. A semblance of the Ylanen koset greeted him. His eyes scanned through the contents, muttering the words under his breath. Juripan leaves. Izkine. Urdesi...

Urdesi wine? What in Pidmena's name was that?

"What is this?" Tobin waved the parchment in the air to stress his point. "Where did you get this?"

Ariam cleared his throat as if preparing for a long story. "I went to Narfalk to attempt to find the rebel since the reports claimed he is a varichria," he began. "When I got there, I found these strange men who lived underneath a grand tavern. Not that I went drinking. I could never. Anyway..."

Tobin cocked an eyebrow at that slight detour but didn't say anything. Ariam took it as a sign to continue. "These men, when I described who I was looking for, knew who it was immediately," he said. "Apparently, they have been affiliated before and have been keeping in touch. The rebel had just finished infiltrating the Synketrian base in Akaron and was able to unlock the secret about the Sovereign's control over her army."

Tobin didn't need more exposition. He glanced at the sheet in his hands. "It is in this parchment, right?"

"It appears the Sovereign had developed a way to control the minds of the people drafted into her ranks," Ariam said. "Nornel and Korr—the people I met who were acquaintances with the rebel—told me Synketros is known to brew these potions and expose the purged even before they depart from the relocation camps."

A stone dropped into Tobin's gut. "So that means..."

Ariam's expression was grim seeing the same realization he had reflect on Tobin's face. "We never really freed them," the knight said. "Even if we transported them somewhere safe, they would have still gone back to Synketros."

That's...

"But we can change our course," Ariam interjected, blurring the train of intrusive thoughts building inside Tobin's head. "We have a way to counter the potion now. Nornel and Korr said we can make it ourselves, with the ingredients we have in our territory."

Tobin forced himself to nod, to awaken the last sliver of hope he could muster deep within himself. "We have to research the medicinal archive," he said. "Sure. Let us do that first thing in the morning."

He was about to leap off the bed and continue his pacing when his limbs froze at a sudden thought. Maybe Ariam's findings could be used for more than one thing. Hitting two witches with one spell. Maybe...

"We can give some to your soldiers," Tobin voiced, gauging the absurdity of this idea. His fingers tapped his chin. "Then, they can infiltrate the Synketrian ranks and the Civil Guards invading the Temple. With the potion, the Sovereign would not be able to convert them, and we will have a way to gather more information from the inside."

They exchanged glances, agreement echoing in the waves of space between them. Tobin grinned—the first time he did since entering the Royalty region. He rubbed his hands. "Well, let us start."