“You mean to tell me that this man has taken over your kingdom and you have no information on him whatsoever?”
Wistler squirms in his seat as the two of us dine, our conversation proving fruitless.
“I have tried, Morgana. No one will answer the questions I ask.” Wistler sips his wine, swilling it around his mouth.
“Then you need to make them answer,” I seethe. “You must be willing to apply the necessary pressure in order to bend people to your will. It is a method which I have become particularly skilled at. Getting others to do as I wish.”
Wistler’s eyes widen as I bring a piece of carrot to my mouth and begin to chew it slowly. He gulps down his wine as though settling his nerves. “Pressure does not work with the Wyverns. I am trying to gather information so that I can bring them down from the inside.”
“Three years you have tried this approach, to no avail. For three years you have allowed these vermin to control one of the most crucial forges of Levanthria, thus failing to provide your king with the armour his army requires. Athos is most displeased.”
“I’m not the one who freed a dangerous beast to freely roam the streets. I don’t understand how letting a monster loose in the kingdom will bring people to heel.”
“Sending in this monster means that blood can be shed without the common people of these lands blaming us. They will grow to fear Orjan and what he is capable of, the chaos he will bring.” I smile as I reach for my cup and take my own sip of wine.
Wistler narrows his eyes. “What good will that do us?”
“When he has done our bidding and lain waste to the Wyverns, the people of Eltera will see us defeat him and they will thank us for putting an end to his terror. They will gaze upon us with gratitude and loyalty.”
“And that will bring the people back under my rule?” Wistler asks.
“Of course. You’ll be their hero, Wistler.” I cringe inwardly at the words, but Wistler’s face lights up. I have no doubt that if it came to actually taking a life, Wistler would have someone else do it for him and then take the credit. The man has no honour.
“Excellent.” He rubs his hands together in anticipation of the plan bearing its fruits. “In the meantime, I will have my messengers communicate with my spies to grant aid to this monster when they can.”
“It is in your best interest that Orjan succeeds in his task, Wistler,” I tell him. “The king’s resources grow lower with every passing day. It is crucial that we resupply his forces with ironite armour.” The king might need the forge to restock his armour, but I have other plans for it once we reclaim it from the Wyverns.
Wistler raises his cup towards me. “Well, here is to the end of the Wyverns. To Eltera.”
“To all of Levanthria.” I tap my cup against his before taking another sip of wine, an explosion of flavour filling my mouth. I can’t help but smile. As long as I know where Orjan is and that he is alive, I see no reason for my vision to come true. Laith will have no reason to strike me down to avenge his former master if Orjan is alive and well.
“Tell me, Morgana, what is it that drives you to serve the king in such a way? Is it riches for yourself? To leave a legacy for your family name?”
“I have no family, not anymore.” I speak the words sharply, without thinking. I regret it instantly. Information is power, and now I’ve just handed over personal information to this snivelling man.
A flurry of motion catches my attention from the doorway as one of the guards steps towards us. She removes a dagger from her side, and before I can react, she launches it in our direction. It barely misses my face as I feel the force of air against my cheek. The woman’s eyes widen when she realises that she missed her target. I feel my face contort with rage at the insolence of her pathetic assassination attempt.
Wistler dives under the table to protect himself. “Guards!” he cries out.
Another sentry lunges at our would-be assassin and attempts to hold her, but the nimble woman evades him. In one swift motion, she unsheathes her sword and plunges it through the man’s stomach. He splutters blood from his mouth before dropping to the floor to take his final breaths.
The assassin swirls to enter combat with the two new guards that burst into the room. Her skill with a blade astounds me and the men are no match for her. I make my way towards her as she continues to dance around the guards, dodging and parrying their strikes as she attempts to flee. She drives her blade into the face of one before spinning and slicing across the stomach of the other, then meets my eyes. I see panic there. Undoubtedly, she knows that harsh punishment awaits her for her treason.
My temper flares, and I fight to keep control as a surge of energy rises within me. The tingling sensation increases until the pressure becomes too much. As I release my magic, the assassin dives out of the way, and my power sends a suit of armour crashing to the floor, melting a hole through the metal.
The assassin looks from me to the door, calculating. Then she sets off at a sprint, putting distance between us at speed despite the armour she wears. I concentrate my magic and feel a ripple of euphoric power travel through me like fresh cold water running over my skin. The woman is fast, but I have learnt how to harness my magic to improve my speed. Within seconds I am at her heel, and when she shoots a glance over her shoulder, she is shocked by my proximity. This is her biggest mistake. If she had remained focused, she may have just been able to make it out of the castle alive.
With a burst of energy, I dive towards the assassin and catch her legs, sending us both crashing to the ground. Pain sears through my limbs as magic and rage consume me. I roll the assassin onto her back, but she strikes me in the face, angering me even further. It has been some time since I had a good old-fashioned brawl. I feel alive with fury as I strike a blow down on the woman, landing another and another. Her face erupts into a bloodied mess, her nose crooked and broken and her eyes swelled. I raise my hand for a final blow, but I stop myself, taking a breath, and the assassin groans weakly before slipping into unconsciousness. I smile at her, spitting my own blood onto her chest plate.
My body trembles with the aftereffects of magic use. By now, the life force I absorbed from the Wyvern in the market has worn off, and I’ve drawn upon my own stores. I embrace the feeling rather than fear it, allowing the sensation to consume me as it sends an icy chill down my spine, causing me to shudder. In this moment, I care not that an assassin or spy has somehow found their way into the castle. What I care for is to reclaim some life force from this person to compensate for the magic I have used.
Then, I shall drag this woman deep into the dungeon and extract as much information from her as I can before she takes her final breaths.