Zareth sat on his throne, one arm resting on the carved armrest, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Beside him, Rowena kept her hands folded in her lap. She wore a dark grey dress with long sleeves. Her hair was pulled back tight. Her face was calm as she listened to the voices that echoed in the hall.

Three elders stood in a half circle before the throne. Elder Mallow, a thin man with a white beard and ink-stained fingers, held a rolled parchment. Elder Finn, shorter, kept his hands clasped behind his back. Elder Ciena was a woman. She was clearly older than the men.

Elder Mallow unrolled the scroll. "My Lord, the iron shipment from the eastern mines is down twenty percent. The foreman claims it’s the ground. Too much water in the lower shafts. We either drain it, which takes gold, or we accept less product."

Zareth nodded slowly. "How much less in the next few months?" 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Probably ten percent if nothing changes," Mallow replied.

"And how much would it cost to drain it?" Rowena asked.

Mallow glanced at her. "Five thousand gold pieces. Maybe more. But with that, the pumps would need to run day and night for two months."

"Can we afford that, Elder Finn?" Zareth asked.

"The treasury can cover that, but it would leave us thin if something else comes up. Like a cell making food demands. A border dispute or a sick harvest." Finn answered.

"The harvest is fine. I walked the fields days ago. Everything is good. The problem is the price of timber from the northern merchants. They raised their rates again."

Zareth’s jaw tightened. "How much?

"Fifteen percent. Their letter arrived this morning saying their loggers demand higher wages." Ciena replied.

"Can’t we have our loggers cut down timbers?" Rowena asked.

"We would be trespassing. Most of the northern forests belong to great Houses."

"We cannot agree to those terms. We should negotiate. Fifteen percent is too much. We should offer them eight. If they refuse, we threaten to buy from the eastern merchants instead. The shipping cost will hurt, but it will hurt them more to lose our business entirely." Rowena said.

Zareth glanced at her briefly, then back at the elders. "That could work. Elder Ciena, ensure to draft a proposal and have it sent over before the day runs out."

"Alright, my lord." Elder Ciena replied.

"What’s next on the agenda?" Zareth asked, rubbing his temples.

Just as Elder Mallow was about to speak again, the large doors of the hall opened.

Tarrik stepped in quickly, his armor faintly clinking as he walked forward. He stopped at a respectful distance from the throne and bowed his head.

"My Lord, the elder from Lycanthria has arrived. And he desired to appear before you in these minutes." Tarrik said.

Rowena turned her head slightly towards Zareth, her eyes demanding an answer. He looked back at her for a moment; his expression was blank.

He nodded at Tarrik. "Bring him in."

Tarrik left the hall.

The elders began exchanging confused looks. Rowena’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest of her seat.

After a few minutes, the doors opened again. Three figures stepped inside. Varon was the first. He wore a deep grey cloak over a green leather tunic. Behind him was Saelkor. The third person was a woman. She looked young with bright red hair pulled into a bun above her head. Around her neck hung a silver chain with a small pendant filled with red liquid that glowed faintly.

The elders stepped aside as the three approached the center of the hall. All three of them bowed.

Rowena’s breath caught. She rose slightly from her seat without realizing it. "Elder Varon..." she said, her voice breaking through the silence.

It was louder than she intended.

Varon lifted his head and met her eyes. A small, restrained smile appeared on his face. "My Queen," he said, his voice respectful. "May you reign for long."

Rowena stared at him, her chest tightening. She settled back in her seat. Varon turned to face Zareth.

"My Lord, I am honored to be in your presence. Thank you for receiving us."

"You traveled far. Speak of your purpose." Zareth said.

Varon hesitated. He looked at Rowena again. His mouth opened, then closed. Then he looked back at Zareth.

"There was an incident in Lycanthria days ago. The bells of treason were rung." Varon said.

Rowena felt her stomach tighten.

"The bells of treason. I have heard of it." Zareth nodded.

"But it has not been rung in decades," Rowena mumbled, her hands shaking slightly. Her mind was already moving ahead of his words, reaching for something she did not want to name.

Varon swallowed once before speaking again. "It led to executions of several officials who were accused of conspiring against the throne."

Rowena’s heart beat faster. She could feel it in her throat. Her hands turned cold all of a sudden.

"My mother. Is she all right?" Rowena asked before she could stop herself.

Varon did not answer.

"What about my mother?!" She demanded.

Still, Varon said nothing. He looked at the floor. The silence stretched.

Rowena stood up. "Elder Varon, I asked you a question." She took two steps down from the dais and stopped at the edge of the top step.

Rowena’s voice rose. "I am ordering you to speak. Now!"

Varon closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again and looked at her, his expression was sad.

"I am sorry, my Queen. Your mother is dead." He said.

Rowena’s breath hitched. For a second, nothing happened. She just stood still.

"I am sorry," Varon mumbled.

Then a sharp, broken scream tore out of her throat. She rushed down the remaining steps, closing the distance between her and Varon. She grabbed him by the front of his cloak. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"How?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "How did she die?!"

Varon did not pull back. "The Heiress ordered it. She was executed in the dungeons," he said quietly.

Rowena froze for half a second. Then her hand struck his chest. Once. Then again.

"You all said she would be safe if I came to Drakwyne!" she cried.

"Rowena," Zareth called.

"My mother...she can’t be dead." Her voice cracked with each word.

Her grip tightened on his cloak. "You watched my mother die."

"Forgive me, my Queen."

Rowena stepped back, her hands falling away from his cloak. Her chest heaved.

"How are you still alive? You were in the same cohort as those executed! How could you have escaped? Why didn’t you save my mother? Traitor! You should be dead!"

Her eyes moved from Varon to Saelkor, then briefly to the woman with the red pendant.

None of them spoke. Anger surged through her, pushing against the grief she was feeling. She clenched her feet and walked away at a fast pace out of the hall.

Zareth raised his hands and dismissed the elders. After they left the hall, he stood up from his throne. He walked down the steps slowly. He stopped in front of Varon. "You’ll be greatly rewarded."

A bright smile broke out on his face. "Thank you, my lord." Varon bowed.

Then Zareth turned to Tarrik. "See to our guests. Give them a good space and make sure they have everything they need."

"Yes, my lord." Tarrik bowed.

Zareth turned and walked towards the door.

"Come with me, please," Tarrik said.

Varon nodded. He gestured to Saelkor and the red-haired woman, and they followed Tarrik.