The courtyard was vast, enclosed by high stone walls that blocked the wind. The ground was packed dirt, worn down by constant movement. In the center of it, groups of men were spread across in organized sections. They moved in coordinated drills. Each one wore the same uniform, black trousers, and a matching long-sleeved tunic. Their faces were not covered, unlike the times they go on missions.

Each section had a captain, distinguished by the silver pins on their collars. They stood at the head of each group. And each captain led their group with clear, direct commands.

"All forward!"

"Formation three, advance!"

"Strike!"

The men responded as one, their boots striking the stone in a single heavy thud. Each section shifted stances, hands moving wooden training swords at their side in a rehearsed motion.

"Again!"

They repeated it without hesitation. No confusion. No delay. Every man knew what to do before the command was even completed. Their responses were loud and immediate.

"Yes, Captain!"

Their voices echoed across the courtyard.

Varon let his gaze sweep across the scene; he kept his hands behind his back. His expression did not change, but his eyes moved carefully from one group to another. He took note of their stance, their timing, and their discipline.

One step behind him stood a man named Saelkor. He was of medium height, with a lean build and a face that held deep lines of a man accustomed to the sun. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were constantly moving. He was not dressed like the others. While the men wore black, his clothing was full gear armor. A sword rested at his side.

He was the General of Black Mambas. His reputation was known across the realm. Once one of the skilled sworders in the realm. He had been caught running illegal slave operations. The king had stripped him of his titles, his lands, and exiled him to the Wastes. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Varon finally turned to face him. "I’m impressed," he said in a calm voice.

Saelkor lowered his head slightly. The gesture was not one of subservience but of a professional acknowledging a superior. "That means a great deal, my lord."

"These men, they follow and obey you without question, right?" Varon said, glancing back at the courtyard.

"Yes, my lord. They understand strength. And they also understand what happens when discipline fails."

Varon looked back at him. "And you understand loyalty?"

Saelkor met his gaze directly. "I do my lord. You have my word, we will not disappoint you."

Varon gave a slight nod. "Good." He turned and began walking toward the low stone building that jutted from the courtyard’s northern wall.

Saelkor fell into step beside him. The sound of training continued behind them. Wooden swords clashed, boots hit the ground, and commands were repeated over and over again.

The structure they were headed to served as their meeting hall. Inside the building, the air was cooler. The noise from outside became distant. A long wooden table was at the center of the room. Quills, maps, scrolls, and an ink pot were scattered across it.

As Varon entered, a man was already waiting in the room. He was dressed in the same black uniform as the men outside. He bowed his head when Varon’s gaze fell on him.

"My lord."

Varon walked past him and moved to stand at the head of the table. "Speak,"

The spy straightened. "The executions were carried out yesterday morning. The king ordered the traitors to be beheaded at the Green Tower. Their families have been exiled from the capital. All lands and wealth will be confiscated and donated to the poor by royal decree."

Varon gave a short chuckle. "As expected."

The spy continued. "The king has also declared you an outlaw. He is offering a bounty to anyone who brings you to him alive. The reward is any tract of land the captors choose within the kingdom’s borders."

Varon tapped his fingers lightly on the table as he shook his head slowly. "Too predictable. Lucky for me, I didn’t get beheaded with the rest of the traitors. They got what they deserved for letting fear rule them."

Saelkor stepped forward, placing a hand on the back of a chair. His eyes were fixed on Varon. "My lord, you have nothing to fear. The Black Mambas have sworn an oath to protect you. No one will reach you without facing us first."

Varon turned to face him, his expression softening slightly. "I know. But this is bigger than protection." He paused, letting the silence settle before speaking again. "I have a larger plan. And it’s time to act on it."

Saelkor’s brow furrowed, but he did not question the statement. Instead, he asked. "My lord, do you require my assistance?"

"Yes," Varon said. He walked around the table, his fingers tracing the edge of the wood. "It is time I met the Dark Lord. Face to face."

A flicker of unease crossed Saelkor’s features. He gazed at the spy, then back at Varon. "That could be dangerous." He said carefully. "Until now, the Queen and Elder Toben have been the primary links. All communication with the Dark Lord has been through ravens and riders. No one from our side has crossed into Drakwyne to see him directly. We don’t know how he will react to a stranger appearing in his land."

Varon stopped walking. "I’m no stranger to the Dark Lord; I have served his purpose for a long time." Varon turned his head slightly and looked at the spy. "Eirene. Was she among those executed?

The spy shook his head. "No, my lord." He replied.

Varon’s jaw tightened. "That means she succeeded in buying her freedom." He let out a slow breath. "And that means I need to move faster than I planned. I need to reach the Dark Lord and explain the situation myself before anyone reaches him and twists the story to their advantage."

He looked at Saelkor this time. "We move to Drakwyne. I’ll go to him, present myself, and win his favor. That is the next step." The confidence in his voice was clear.

Saelkor straightened his shoulders. "Then Black Mambas will march to Drakwyne. My men and I are with you. Wherever you lead, we follow."

Varon gave a small nod of approval. He reached for a piece of parchment on the table and picked up a quill. He dipped the quill into the ink pot and, without wasting time, he began to write. His hand moved quickly; the message was short. He folded the parchment, pressing a blob of dark wax onto it without a seal. He handed it to the spy.

"Find the wanderer witch, you know where to look. Give her this and tell her it is time." Varon said. He held his gaze for a few seconds to make sure the instructions were well understood.

The spy nodded. "Yes, my lord." He tucked the parchment inside his tunic. He bowed his head, then turned and left the room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Silence settled in the room. Varon took the quill again and wrote on another parchment. He poured the dark wax again, but this time, he pressed a seal on it.