The atmosphere in the capital was a suffocating mix of festive cheer and hidden dread. As the four companions executed their plan, the high-stakes investigation took a sharp, disorienting turn. The "perfect" suspect was beginning to crumble under scrutiny, but not in the way they expected.
Killian trailed Lord Valerius through the twisting backstreets. He watched the architect enter a secluded townhouse, expecting to see a meeting of hooded cultists. Instead, he watched through a window as Valerius collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands, trembling. A high-ranking cleric entered, but there were no ritual daggers—only a heavy bag of gold exchanged for a stack of blueprints.
"He isn't leading them," Killian whispered into his communication stone, his brow furrowing. "He looks terrified. He's being extorted, or he's a pawn who doesn't realize what he's building."
In the archives, Alaric finally broke into the secondary lockbox. He found the documents regarding the Siphon Stones, but as he read the private correspondence, his anger turned to confusion.
Valerius had written dozens of letters to the Ministry of Safety, flagging the "Type-A Quartz" as unstable and requesting a re-inspection. Every single one of his warnings had been stamped "Denied" by an anonymous clerk. Valerius wasn't smuggling the stones; he was being forced to use them by a "higher authority" who threatened his family.
"He's clean," Alaric reported, his voice tight. "Suspiciously incompetent and easily manipulated, yes—but he's not a believer. He's a shield for the real mastermind."
At the gala location, Seraphina and Eveline moved through the Grand Plaza. As they scanned the foundations, they realized the true horror of the trap. The stones Valerius had placed weren't the weapons; they were the conductors.
"Wait," Eveline whispered, her hand hovering over a floral wreath. "These stones... they are positioned to protect the seating area of the commoners. If the ritual triggers, these would act as a buffer.
"
Seraphina knelt, inspecting the jagged stone. "He was trying to save as many people as he could within the constraints of the design they forced on him. Valerius isn't our traitor. He's a man trying to do right while a knife is at his throat."
The four met in the "Alley of Beginnings" as the sun began to rise. The realization was chilling. By focusing on the man who was "most suspicious," they had nearly fallen into the cult's trap.
"If Valerius is innocent," Seraphina said, her voice a cold, sharp blade, "then the real traitor is the one who 'Denied' his safety reports. Someone with the power to overrule an Imperial Architect."
"The Prime Minister," Killian and Alaric said in unison.
The "Order of the Final Breath" hadn't just reached the Council; they had taken the seat right next to the Emperor. Lord Valerius was just the distraction—a man made to look guilty so the four pillars of the Empire would look the wrong way.
"The party starts in six hours," Alaric said, adjusting his cloak. "We leave Valerius alone for now. If he's innocent, he's a witness. We need to get into the VIP gala, and we need to do it before the Prime Minister gives the signal."