The building looked like a fortress. Stone walls rose fifteen feet before the first windows appeared. Iron bars covered every opening. Guards stood at the main entrance with weapons drawn and expressions that suggested they knew exactly who was coming.

  “Professional protection,” Owen observed. “The kind of security someone buys when they expect trouble.”

  “Can you get us in?” Adrian asked.

  “I can get us in.” Owen studied the building with the detached interest of a craftsman examining a problem. “The question is how much of the building you want left standing afterward.”

  “We need her alive and talking,” Duncan said. “Beyond that, I care little in regards to the furniture.”

  Owen nodded. “Noted.”

  We dismounted at the edge of the property.

  The guards at the entrance watched us approach with the nervous energy of men who understood they were outmatched but could not bring themselves to run. One of them stepped forward and raised a hand.

  “This residence is private property,” he announced. “No visitors without prior arrangement.”

  Duncan stopped ten feet from the entrance. Lightning crackled across his knuckles. “I am Prince Duncan of Keldrath. I’m here to speak with Fiona regarding matters of kingdom security. You can step aside, or you can explain to your families why you chose to obstruct a royal investigation.”

  The guard’s face went pale. He looked at his companion. His companion looked at the lightning dancing between Duncan’s fingers.

  “Our orders come from Lady Fiona herself,” the first guard said. His voice held less confidence than before. “She instructed us to admit no one.”

  “Then I’ll admit myself.” Duncan turned to Owen. “If you would.”

  Owen nodded and stepped forward. He tilted his head to one side and studied the building’s eastern wall. His eyes narrowed in concentration. His lips moved without sound.

  Nothing happened for several seconds.

  Then the wall screamed.

  I had heard stone groan before. I had felt buildings settle and shift under the weight of their own construction. But I had never heard anything like the sound that erupted from Fiona’s residence.

  The stone shrieked as if it were alive and in agony. Timber cracked with reports like thunder. Mortar crumbled and sprayed outward in clouds of gray dust. The entire eastern wall wrenched free from the building as if an invisible hand had seized it and yanked.

  Owen had cast a force ward on the structure itself. The same kind of ward we used to lift heavy objects or push things aside. But he had cast it remotely. Without anchors. Without physical contact. Without any of the limitations that constrained normal glyphwrights.

  He had cast it on an entire wall and told it to leave.

  And the wall obeyed.

  Stone blocks the size of wagon wheels ripped free from their mortar and tumbled into the garden. Support beams snapped and fell. Windows shattered in cascading waves of broken glass. The wall peeled away from the building like skin from an orange and crashed into the street with an impact that shook the ground beneath our feet.

  Dust billowed outward in choking clouds and debris scattered across the cobblestones. The guards at the entrance threw themselves aside and covered their heads with their arms.

  When the dust settled, half of Fiona’s residence stood exposed to the morning air.

  Every room on the eastern side of the building was now visible from the street. A sitting room with overturned furniture. A study with papers swirling in the sudden breeze. A bedroom where someone had clearly slept until moments ago.

  And on the second floor, directly above what had been the main entrance, a small chamber held a man sitting on a toilet.

  He stared at us. We stared at him.

  His eyes were wide with shock and his trousers were around his ankles. He held a piece of parchment he had apparently been reading. For a long moment nobody moved.

  Then the man very slowly raised the parchment and held it in front of his face.

  Felix made a sound that might have been a cough or might have been a laugh. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper.

  “Wrong room,” Owen said. His tone remained completely level. “My apologies for the interruption.”

  The guards at the entrance had stopped pretending to resist.

  They stood with their backs against the remaining wall and their weapons on the ground at their feet. Their expressions held the blank shock of men whose understanding of the world had just been fundamentally revised.

  We walked through the rubble where the main entrance had once been. The interior of the building was chaos. Furniture lay scattered across floors covered in broken stone and shattered glass. Dust hung in the air like fog. Servants ran in every direction with no apparent destination in mind.

  Duncan led the way up a staircase that groaned under our weight. The building’s structural integrity had been compromised. We didn’t have long before the remaining walls decided to follow the example of their eastern companion.

  “Fiona.” Duncan’s voice echoed through the damaged structure. “I know you’re here. Come out now and we can have a civilized conversation. Make me search for you and the conversation becomes considerably less pleasant.”

  A door opened at the end of a hallway on the second floor.

  Fiona emerged slowly. She looked nothing like the sharp-eyed bureaucrat who had obstructed our work at every turn. Her hair hung loose and tangled around her face. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her clothes were rumpled as if she had been sleeping in them for days.

  She looked exhausted. She looked defeated. And surprisingly, she looked relieved.

  “Prince Duncan.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Have you.” Duncan’s tone held no warmth. “Then you know why we’re here.”

  “Yes.” Fiona’s shoulders sagged. Something in her posture shifted from tension to surrender. “I know why you’re here. And I’ll tell you everything. I’ve been waiting for someone to ask the right questions.” She looked past Duncan to the rest of us. Her gaze lingered on Adrian. “I’m glad you’re safe, Your Highness. Truly. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

  “People did get hurt,” Adrian said. “Towns were attacked. Infrastructure was sabotaged. I spent three days bound in a cellar.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.” Tears welled in Fiona’s eyes. “You have to understand. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Why don’t you tell us everything,” Duncan suggested.

  She nodded and led us into a sitting room on the western side of the building.

  The eastern wall’s destruction hadn’t reached this far and the furniture had remained upright. The windows remained intact. It felt almost normal except for the fine layer of dust that covered every surface.

  Fiona sat in a chair near the fireplace with her hands folded in her lap. She made no attempt to flee or negotiate. Whatever fight she once possessed had left her long ago.

  “Start from the beginning,” Duncan said. “Who are you working for?”

  “Edmund Gray.” The name came out like a confession at a deathbed. “He controls the consortium. He controls the supply chains. He controls half the commerce in Keldrath.” She laughed without humor. “And for the past six years, he’s controlled me.”

  “How?”

  Fiona closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice held the flat tone of someone recounting events they had relived too many times.

  “Six years ago, I rose through the trade commission. Good position. Good prospects. I thought I had built something.” She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Then Edmund came to me with documents. Financial records that showed I had been embezzling from the commission. Taking bribes. Skimming from trade tariffs.”

  “Had you?” Duncan asked.

  “No.” Fiona’s voice cracked. “The documents were fabricated. Every single one. But they were good. They were detailed, and utterly convincing. The kind of evidence that would destroy a career and land me in prison.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Edmund gave me a choice. Work for him and the documents stay hidden. Refuse and he sends them to the crown.”

  “You should have come to me,” Duncan said.

  “I wanted to.” Fiona’s composure finally broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “But then he told me what would happen to my children if I ever spoke to anyone. He described it in detail. Every terrible thing his people would do to them.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve seen what happens to people who cross Edmund Gray. He showed me. Made sure I understood exactly what he’s capable of.”

  The room went quiet. Even Duncan’s expression softened slightly.

  “So you did what he asked,” I said.

  “I did everything he asked.” Fiona looked at me with eyes that held nothing but exhaustion. “Blocked permits. Raised fees. Created obstacles for anyone who threatened his monopoly. When you came with your local material solutions, he told me to bury you in bureaucracy. When that didn’t work, he told me to arrange the attacks.”

  “The brigands,” Felix said. “The sabotage.”

  “All of it. I gave the orders. I arranged the payments. I told them where to find you and when to strike.” Fiona’s voice broke completely. “And I hated myself more with every message I sent.”

  Adrian stepped forward. “Where is Edmund Gray now?”

  Fiona wiped her face and took a shaky breath. “He has an estate outside the city. A remote location with private roads. He’s been there since the attacks started, waiting to see how things played out.”

  “What kind of defenses?”

  “Hired glyphwrights. Ward layers. Professional guards.” Fiona met Adrian’s gaze. “He’s been building that place for years. It’s designed to hold off an army.”

  Owen made a thoughtful sound. “An army, perhaps. But not a Siege Scribe.”

  “The wards are extensive,” Fiona warned. “I’ve seen the specifications. Multiple layers. Interlocking triggers. Detection systems that would alert him the moment anyone approaches.”

  “Detection systems can be disabled,” I said. “We’ve done it before.”

  Fiona looked at me with something that might have been hope. “You think you can get through?”

  “We got through the defenses at the mill where they held Adrian. That was professional work with multiple layers.” I glanced at Owen. “With his help, we can handle whatever Edmund has waiting.”

  Duncan stood. “Then we move now. Before he has time to prepare.”

  “Wait.” Fiona reached out as if to stop him, then pulled her hand back. “There’s something else you should know. About Edmund. About why he is the way he is.”

  “I don’t care about his reasons,” Duncan said.

  “You should.” Fiona’s voice steadied. “He grew up in Veldros. The fishing village. His father died in your father’s war. His mother died of disease shortly after. He was five years old and homeless and no one helped him.” She paused. “He built everything he has from nothing. And he’s convinced that everyone who has power only uses it to hurt people like the boy he used to be.”

  The room went silent again.

  I thought about Veldros. The failing preservation wards. The struggling fishermen. The town we had worked to save without knowing its connection to the man who had tried to destroy us.

  Edmund Gray came from the same village we had helped. The same village his monopoly had been strangling.

  “That doesn’t excuse what he’s done,” Duncan said finally.

  “No.” Fiona shook her head. “But it might explain it.”

  We left Fiona with guards who had orders to keep her comfortable but secure.

  Duncan promised she would face consequences for her actions, but the circumstances would be considered. Coercion under threat to her children. Fabricated evidence. Years of service under duress. The crown was not without mercy for those who had been victimized themselves.

  The sun had risen fully by the time we mounted our horses. The streets of Valdmere stirred with morning activity. People stopped to stare at the procession of soldiers and nobles riding through their city.

  “His estate is two hours south,” Duncan said. “We ride hard and we arrive before midday.”

  “What’s the plan?” Adrian asked.

  “Owen breaches the outer defenses. Marcus and Felix disable the inner wards.” Duncan’s expression hardened. “And then we have a conversation with Edmund Gray about the cost of threatening my kingdom.”

  Chapter 39

  House Call

  Edmund Gray’s estate appeared through the trees like a warning.

  The building sat atop a low hill surrounded by open ground that had been cleared of any cover. Stone walls rose three stories high with narrow windows that would serve as excellent archer positions. A single road wound up from the valley floor and passed through a gatehouse before reaching the main structure.

  “He built himself a fortress,” Adrian observed.

  “He built himself a prison.” Duncan’s voice held contempt. “All that stone and iron, and he’s trapped inside it waiting for us to arrive.”

  We had ridden hard for two hours after leaving Fiona’s ruined residence. The countryside south of Valdmere gave way to rolling hills and dense forest that eventually thinned to reveal Edmund’s sanctuary. The man had chosen his location well. Anyone approaching would be visible for a quarter mile before reaching the walls.

  Owen studied the estate with professional interest. His eyes moved across the structure in a pattern I recognized from my own assessments of ward work. He read the defenses like Felix and I would read an inscription.

  “Three layers of detection wards along the approach road,” Owen said. “Alarm triggers at fifty-yard intervals. Anyone who walks that path announces their arrival long before they reach the gate.”

  “Can you disable them from here?” Duncan asked.

  “I could destroy them. Disabling requires precision I can’t manage at this distance.” Owen tilted his head. “But destruction creates noise. He’ll know we’re coming the moment I start.”

  “He probably already knows.” I pointed to a glint of light from one of the upper windows. “Someone’s watching. Has been since we cleared the treeline.”

  Felix pulled out his detection stick and held it toward the estate. The metal rod hummed in his grip. “The ward density is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it outside of the guild hall in Millbrook.”

  “He’s been building this place for years,” Roderick said. “Fiona mentioned he started construction right after establishing the consortium. Like he always expected this day to come.”

  “A man who builds a fortress expects enemies.” Henrick’s hand rested on his axe. “He’s been making them for a long time.”

  Duncan dismounted and gestured for the rest of us to do the same. His soldiers spread out along the treeline in positions that would provide cover if anyone from the estate decided to take shots at us. The prince crouched behind a fallen log and studied the approach.

  “Options,” he said.

  Owen considered. “I breach the outer defenses with a force ward. Same technique I used on Fiona’s residence. The detection alarms will trigger, but they’ll be meaningless once the walls come down.”

  “That worked against a townhouse. This is a fortified position.”

  “The principles are the same. Stone is stone. It all comes down when you apply enough pressure to the right places.” Owen’s tone remained conversational. “The inner wards are another matter. They are built from interlocking systems designed to contain threats even if the outer defenses fail. I can feel them from here.”

  “What kind of systems?” Felix asked.

  “Binding wards. Stun effects. Possibly something more aggressive.” Owen looked at us. “The kind of defenses you design when you expect someone with my capabilities to come knocking.”

  “He’s prepared for a Siege Scribe,” I said.

  “He’s prepared for a frontal assault by overwhelming force. That’s different.” Owen smiled slightly. “Overwhelming force I can match. But brute power won’t help with the precision work inside. That’s where you two become useful.”

  We approached the estate from the northeast where a drainage channel cut through the cleared ground.

  The channel was only three feet deep, but it provided enough cover to move within a hundred yards of the outer wall without being visible from the windows. Duncan’s soldiers remained at the treeline to draw attention while our smaller group advanced.

  Owen led the way. The Siege Scribe moved with surprising grace for a man his age. His robes did not catch on the rough ground. His breathing remained steady despite the awkward crouch-walk the channel required.

  Duncan came next with lightning flickering across his knuckles. The prince had not spoken since we began the approach. His expression held the cold focus of someone who had done this before.

  Adrian followed with Roderick and Henrick flanking him. The guards moved like shadows despite their size. Whatever training they had received, it clearly included infiltration techniques.

  Felix and I brought up the rear with our detection sticks ready and our satchels full of tools. The familiar weight of inscription supplies felt inadequate for what we were about to attempt.

  “Here,” Owen whispered.

  We stopped at a point where the channel curved closest to the outer wall. Thirty yards of open ground separated us from the stone. Thirty yards where anyone watching would see us clearly.

  Owen rose to a crouch and studied the wall. His lips moved without sound. I felt something shift in the air around him. A pressure that built like a storm gathering on the horizon.

  “When I begin, move fast,” Owen said. “I’ll create an opening. You get through it before the inner defenses activate.”

  “How long do we have?” Duncan asked.