The Destructive Adventures of the Lovers-Chapter 65: Robbery Plan

Princess Xyrille leaned over the stone railing of her balcony, eyes narrowed against the swirling snowstorm that gripped Lavera. She could feel the pressure of the storm, its cold breath whispering through her hair, as if the very air carried the echoes of the chaos to come. She knew that harboring the Mankaynd would only draw Lavera deeper into the storm's icy jaws.

Yet she smiled—a sharp, calculating curve of her lips. She had seen enough to know that chaos, properly wielded, could be a powerful weapon.

She descended the spiraling stairs of her tower, the flickering torchlight casting her shadow long and ghostly on the walls. Outside, the storm howled against the castle, but she moved with purpose, her steps echoing in the empty corridors.

Xyrille stepped into the bustling courtyard, her eyes quickly finding the one she sought—a wiry figure slipping through the crowd, light on her feet, darting from shadow to shadow. The girl's short hair whipped in the wind, and her sharp eyes caught every flicker of movement around her. She wore a formal top that clung tightly to her form, contrasting sharply with the rugged shorts and thick boots that hinted at her true nature.

"Zeze," Xyrille called, her voice cutting through the wind. The girl stopped, her eyes narrowing as she turned. She approached, her stance wary but curious.

"Princess," Zeze replied, dipping her head slightly, though her eyes never dropped. "What do you need from someone like me?"

Xyrille's smile deepened. "A favor, and an opportunity."

Zeze crossed her arms, tilting her head with a hint of defiance. "I don't do favors for free."

"Of course not," Xyrille said, stepping closer, her breath a mist in the cold air. "I need you to steal some of our own supplies—food, jackets, blankets. Enough to cause a stir. Place them in the Mankaynd tents."

Zeze raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with interest. "And why would I do that? That's a death sentence if they find out."

"Because," Xyrille leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, "when Lavera's wrath falls, I will protect you. You'll be untouchable, hidden in the shadows while the storm rages. I can promise you safety, Zeze."

Zeze hesitated, the wind tugging at her short hair. She looked around, catching the anxious glances of Laveran soldiers and the suspicious stares of the Mankaynd. Tension crackled in the air like a live wire.

"Fine," Zeze said, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "I'll do it."

Xyrille watched as Zeze slipped into the crowd, moving like a ghost among the clamor of voices and the clattering of steel. She knew that once the seeds of mistrust were sown, it would only take a spark to ignite the chaos she needed.

The next morning, shouts erupted in the central square. A group of Laverans had discovered their stockpiles raided, their jackets and food missing. Accusations flew like arrows, sharp and cutting.

"You thieves! You dare bite the hand that shelters you?" one of the Laveran men shouted, his face flushed with rage as he pointed at a group of Mankaynd huddled near the clinic.

"We took nothing!" a Mankaynd woman shot back, her eyes fierce. "We are not beggars, and we do not steal!"

"Lies!" another Laveran spat, shoving one of the Mankaynd men back. "We found the stolen goods in your tents! Do you take us for fools?!"

Chaos erupted. Shoves turned to punches, and the bitter cold air was filled with the sounds of struggle. A Mankaynd warrior drew his blade, but a Laveran knight met him with a shield, knocking him to the ground.

High above, from the balcony, Xyrille watched the chaos unfold, her cold laughter swept away by the wind. She had sparked the conflict she needed, and the storm outside the castle walls now echoed the storm she had unleashed within.

Suddenly, the deep voice of King Jacob boomed over the courtyard, his presence cutting through the violence like a blade. "Enough!"

The fighting stilled, breaths coming in ragged gasps as the king stepped into the fray, his blue cloak billowing like a wave in the wind. His eyes blazed as he looked at his people and their guests, his jaw set in a hard line.

"This is not our way," he said, his voice a low growl. "We do not turn on those we have chosen to shelter. There will be no more bloodshed under my roof."

Silence fell, the only sound the distant roar of the storm as it clawed at the stone walls. Xyrille's smile faded, her fingers tightening around the cold stone of the balcony railing. She had not anticipated her brother's interference.

But chaos had been sown, and like a slow-spreading frost, it would creep into every corner of Lavera, turning brother against brother, friend against friend.

Xyrille turned from the balcony, her dark eyes gleaming. The storm had only just begun.

The air in Lavera was heavy, the snowstorm still clawing at the edges of the kingdom, whispering cold secrets into the stone walls. King Jacob stood at the center of the square, his breath fogging in the freezing air, eyes dark with unspoken anger. Around him, the Mankaynd people huddled in thin coats and makeshift tents, their eyes weary and bodies shivering. Whispers of distrust had already spread like wildfire.

"Who did this?" King Jacob's voice cut through the bitter wind, his words sharp as the blades of snow that whipped around the castle walls. "Who dared to steal from my people? Who among you defied my hospitality?"

The Mankaynd people glanced at each other, confusion and fear flashing in their eyes. An elderly man, his face creased with both age and worry, took a step forward, his hands trembling. "Your Majesty, we did nothing. We would never—"

"Silence!" King Jacob's voice trembled with a rage he struggled to control. His fists tightened, and the air around him seemed to pulse, a crackle of invisible energy that made the snowflakes pause in mid-air for a heartbeat.

At that moment, Gabriel and Margo pushed through the crowd, their faces grim but determined. Gabriel's eyes met the king's, unflinching even as the air around Jacob grew heavier, charged with his barely contained power.

"King Jacob," Gabriel began, his voice steady, "you've known us. You've seen our struggle. We would never steal from your people. This is a misunderstanding."

The king's eyes snapped to Gabriel, his breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. "Misunderstanding?" he spat, his hands shaking. "I've given you shelter, protection, and this is how you repay me? With theft and betrayal?"

Margo stepped forward, her hand brushing Gabriel's arm, her voice firm but laced with a quiet desperation. "Please, Your Majesty, listen to us. We are not your enemy. We only seek peace."

King Jacob's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his power flared, the snow around him swirling faster, the very air tightening like a clenched fist. Without warning, his hands shot up, and the ground beneath Gabriel and Margo trembled. They felt the weight of his telekinesis grip their bodies, lifting them off the frozen earth, their breaths catching as the world spun around them.

"You come to my kingdom, you bring your war, your chaos, and now you steal from my people?" Jacob's voice was a growl, his eyes wild, his crown reflecting the fractured light of the icy storm above. "I should cast you out, let the storm swallow you whole."

Gabriel struggled against the unseen force, his heart pounding, but he forced his voice to remain calm. "Jacob," he choked, his eyes burning with defiance, "this... this isn't you. This isn't the king we've come to respect. Please... you're letting fear control you."

For a long, terrible moment, the king's face twisted in a storm of emotions, his fists trembling, the veins in his temples throbbing. But then, something in his eyes flickered – a flash of recognition, of shame – and he lowered his hands. Gabriel and Margo crashed back to the ground, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

King Jacob stepped back, his eyes wide, as if waking from a nightmare. He looked at his hands, the very instruments of his rage, and his shoulders slumped.

"I..." he whispered, his voice hollow. "I have lost myself."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the castle, his long, fur-lined cloak sweeping the snow behind him, leaving Gabriel and Margo shivering in the cold, their breaths mingling in the icy air.

The square was silent, the Laverans and Mankaynd people staring after their king, the echo of his rage still crackling in the frozen air, the storm above howling like a wounded beast.