Strongest Incubus System

Chapter 364: Traitors

The next morning, the mansion awakened at a different rhythm. Not calmer, exactly, because calm was far too generous a word for anything involving Arven at that moment. But there was clearer order in the corridors. Servants carried messages to specific destinations, guards were redistributed without the usual confusion, and Ingrivid had placed two trusted men in front of the archive wing before breakfast was even served.

Damon noticed the change when he stepped into the corridor and found a guard standing near the door of his room. The man gave a quick bow, trying not to look for too long at the white hair or at the small bluish marks that still appeared on Damon’s neck when he was tired. Damon looked at the guard, then at Ester, who was walking beside him with a medical folder under one arm.

"Did I get an escort too?"

"You got supervision."

"That sounds worse."

"It is worse."

Damon accepted the answer with a sigh and kept walking. His body was better after an entire night of forced rest, though he would never admit Ester had been right. Sleeping had helped. The pain in his shoulder had diminished, the flow of Qi was more stable, and the elemental root seemed less restless. Even so, he felt a pressure in his body, as if the cold were always waiting for a justification to move.

Ester noticed, because Ester always noticed. "You are controlling it better."

"Was that praise?"

"No. It was observation."

"Your observations have been getting dangerously close to praise."

"Keep talking and I will go back to being offensive."

"I prefer that. It is more familiar."

She did not smile, but the irritation on her face softened a little. The two descended toward the inner courtyard, where Damon was supposed to do light exercises before anything involving meetings, nobles, or violence. Ester called that recovery. Damon called it structured humiliation. In practice, it was a mixture of stretching, Qi circulation, and basic balance training to prevent him from using brute force whenever his body failed in precision.

On the way, they passed the corridor leading to the archives. Aria was crouched on the floor, surrounded by documents, two servants, and a box of old seals. She looked as if she had slept little, or perhaps not at all, but her eyes were far too alive for someone truly exhausted. When she saw Damon, she raised a sheet with a triumphant expression.

"I found a difference."

Damon stopped. Ester stopped too, displeased because any unplanned stop was, to her, a personal offense.

"A difference in what?" Damon asked.

Aria pointed to the false order on a low table. "In the seal. It is very good, almost perfect, but it is not the original from the Council of Guarantees. The right edge has uneven pressure. Someone copied it using a wax mold, not an official matrix."

Ester crossed her arms. "Is that important?"

"Very," Aria answered, satisfied. "If it were a stolen real seal, we would have to look for someone with direct access to the Council. Since it is a copy, we need to discover who had enough contact with an original document to mold the seal. That reduces the list a little."

Damon looked at the sheet. "And Havelock would have that access?"

"As a trade councilor tied to Halbrecht? Perhaps. But not alone. He would need someone who handled official correspondence or guarantee records."

Ester looked at Damon before he could show too much interest. "No."

"I did not say anything."

"You thought about investigating."

"Is that forbidden too?"

"Yes."

Aria pointed the quill at Ester. "To be fair, he thought very loudly."

Damon looked at both of them. "I feel that my right to internal expression is being violated."

"Good," Ester said. "Walk."

He was forced to continue, but he carried the information with him. False seal by wax mold. Havelock. Council of Guarantees. Grouped debts. Bought or negligent guards. The network was beginning to gain shape, but the center was still missing. The former Duchess had left behind a rotten structure, and people like Havelock were trying to occupy the space before Morgana could clean it.

In the courtyard, Ester positioned Damon before three training pillars covered with old strike marks. The rule of the day was simple: slow movements, structured ice sword, no external release of cold. He was supposed to form a short blade, keep it stable, and execute basic sequences without breaking the weapon or freezing the ground.

Naturally, he failed in the third minute.

The sword did not break, which was progress. But a layer of ice spread beneath his feet when he tried to change direction too quickly. Ester looked at the ground. Damon did too. The silence was enough.

"I know," he said.

"You do not. If you knew, you would not have done it."

"Sometimes knowing does not stop stupidity."

"That is the most honest thing you have said this week."

He dissolved the sword and started again. This time, he focused on the internal structure before forming the edge. Central line, crossbars, outer layer, conduction to the hilt. It was still too slow for real combat, but better than before. When he executed the first cut, the blade remained whole. On the second, it vibrated. On the third, it almost cracked. Damon adjusted the flow at the last instant and managed to keep the weapon stable.

Ester tilted her head. "Better."

"I am going to write that word on a board."

"Do that and I will stop using it."

He smiled, but kept training. For almost half an hour, Damon’s world was restricted to the courtyard, the sword, his breathing, and Ester’s voice correcting every mistake without mercy. It was strangely good. Political problems were too large, full of names, papers, and invisible consequences. The sword was concrete. It either broke, or it did not break. It either cut, or it failed. There was no hidden interest in a poorly made blade.

When they finished, Damon was sweaty, though cold, and irritated by his own exhaustion. Ester ordered him to sit on a stone bench and handed him a bottle with a medicinal mixture that smelled of bitter herbs and metal.

"Drink."

"Is this punishment?"

"Treatment."

"Same thing, sometimes."

"Drink."

He drank and made a face. "This tastes like regret."

"Good. It matches your choices."

Before Damon could answer, Ingrivid entered the courtyard with quick steps. She was not running, but there was urgency in her posture. She carried a small folded note in her hand and a closed expression on her face.

"Damon. Ester. Morgana asked for you in the meeting room."

Ester narrowed her eyes. "He just trained."

"She said it is important."

Damon stood before Ester could tell him not to. To his surprise, she did not stop him. She only looked at Ingrivid attentively. "What happened?"

Ingrivid showed the note. "Havelock answered."

The meeting room was already occupied when they arrived. Morgana stood by the table, Elizabeth sat with an open letter in her hands, and Aria leaned over the note as if she could tear more words out of it just by staring at the paper. The room had that silent tension from before a storm.

Morgana looked at Damon when he entered. "You should be resting."

"I heard that from reliable sources. I also heard Havelock answered."

She did not argue. She merely pointed to the table.

Aria read aloud, carefully keeping her tone neutral: "Caldrick, your incompetence has put everyone at risk. If Arven suspects, we need to end the matter before the Duchess gathers support. The ice man is a problem, but also an opportunity. If he is led to act publicly, we can accuse Morgana of ruling through coercion. Prepare a new meeting. This time, bring her to the old warehouse. The rest will be resolved."

Damon went quiet.

Ester looked at him immediately, perhaps expecting anger. It came, of course. Cold, clean, heavy. But he held it. The air around him did not freeze. The table did not crack. The glass near Elizabeth remained liquid. Somehow, that seemed to disturb them more than if he had exploded.

Elizabeth folded the letter. "Now we have intent, a plan, and confirmation that they want to use your reputation against Morgana."

Morgana was far too serious. "And we have a location."

Ingrivid placed the map on the table and pointed to a mark near the old commercial district. "Old warehouse in the southern district. It belonged to a transport company tied to the former Duchess. It has officially been empty since her house collapsed, but my men say they saw movement there two nights ago."

Aria let out a humorless laugh. "Of course. Always an abandoned warehouse. Noble conspirators need more variety."

Damon looked at the map. "It is a trap."

"Yes," Elizabeth said.

"Then let us turn it into our trap."

Ester answered before everyone. "Not if that means you entering there as bait."

Damon raised his eyes to her. "I did not say that."

"You were going to."

"I was considering it."

"No."

Morgana rested her hands on the table. "Ester, I understand your concern, but Havelock wants a public reaction. If we do not give him something that looks like an opportunity, he may retreat."

"Or we can send soldiers and arrest everyone."

Elizabeth shook her head. "If we do that too early, we catch only henchmen. Havelock will deny involvement. We need a direct link."

Aria raised the note. "We have the letter."

"We have a letter sent to Caldrick," Elizabeth said. "Good, but contestable. They can claim forgery, coercion, or manipulation. We need witnesses, record, or confession."

Damon looked at Morgana. "You want to go."

Morgana did not look away. "I do."

Ingrivid immediately stiffened. "No."

"I am still the duchess."

"And I am still your knight."

"I will not stay hidden while they act inside my duchy."

Ingrivid took a step forward. "You do not need to prove courage to anyone."

"It is not about courage."

"Then it is about guilt."

The sentence struck the room hard. Morgana went still. Ingrivid seemed to regret it for a second, but did not retreat. Damon observed them both in silence. This was not only strategy. To Morgana, every new blow against Arven was one more proof that her stepmother’s filth was still alive beneath her roof. She wanted to face it head-on because staying still felt like allowing the other woman to keep winning.

Morgana breathed slowly. "Perhaps it is. But I still need to go."

Damon approached the table, ignoring Ester’s look. "Then let us do it properly."

Ester closed her eyes. "I hate it when he says that."

Damon pointed to the warehouse on the map. "They want to provoke me. They want me to be seen acting like an unstable threat. So I cannot be visible at the start."

Elizabeth tilted her head. "Continue."

"Morgana goes with an official escort. Small enough to look like she accepted a negotiation, strong enough not to be absurd. Ingrivid stays with her. Aria does not go."

Aria raised her head. "I did not even ask."

"You were going to ask."

"I was."

"You stay in the archives, tracking any movement that comes out of this. If Havelock has people trying to erase evidence, they may act when they think everyone is distracted."

Aria opened her mouth, then closed it. "That is irritatingly sensible."

Damon looked at Elizabeth. "Can you provide neutral witnesses? People Havelock cannot dismiss as Arven partisans?"

Elizabeth thought for a few seconds. "Two representatives from merchant guilds and perhaps a retired scribe from the Council. If the meeting is presented as an emergency negotiation, they may accept observing from a distance."

Morgana began to understand. "If Havelock acts, it will not be only our word."

"Exactly," Damon said. "And I stay out until they show their hand."

Ester looked at him. "Out where?"

"Close enough to prevent someone from dying."

"That is not an acceptable unit of distance."

"I can stay in the side building. Without appearing. Without releasing Qi. If nothing happens, I do nothing."

Ester did not like it. That was obvious. But she also did not find an immediate objection that was not only fear, and she hated arguing using fear. Morgana, in turn, watched Damon attentively.

"And if they try to arrest me again?" she asked.

"Then Ingrivid holds the first minute. I arrive in the second."

Ingrivid evaluated Damon for the first time without hostility. "I can hold more than a minute."

"I know. I am being polite."

She accepted that with a small nod.

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "The plan has risk, but it can also expose Havelock cleanly. We will need to record everything. Aria, can you prepare recording crystals?"

"I can. But if they are detected, it is over."

Morgana looked at the letter. "Then we use two layers. Hidden crystals and nearby witnesses."

Ester finally spoke, lower. "And Damon with a limit."

Everyone looked at her.

She held Damon’s gaze. "If you feel you are losing control, you retreat. No matter what happens."

Damon was silent.

The easy answer would be to promise. The true answer was more complicated.

"If Morgana is in danger, I will not retreat."

Ester tightened her jaw.

Damon continued before she exploded. "But I will not pretend to lose control, I will not release more force than necessary, and I will not enter before the signal. That, I promise."

Ester looked at him for a few seconds.

Then nodded, displeased. "I will accept that because it is better than the heroic lies you usually use."

"I am maturing."

"Do not ruin it."

Morgana picked up the letter and folded it carefully. "Then we will do it tomorrow night."

Ingrivid stiffened. "Tomorrow?"

"Havelock asked for haste. If we delay, he will suspect."

Elizabeth agreed. "Tomorrow is better. But today no one acts alone. Doubled guards at the archives, treasury, and Albert’s room. Aria prepares the crystals. I will handle the witnesses. Ingrivid chooses the escort. Ester keeps Damon functional."

Damon sighed. "That expression is becoming my official title."

Aria smiled. "Damon, the Functional."

"Worse than Ice Man?"

"Less dramatic, but more honest."

Morgana gathered the documents into the folder. Her face was still serious, but there was a new clarity there. It was no longer merely reacting to blows. Now they were preparing the next move. Havelock wanted a trap. Then he would have one. Just not the kind he expected.

Damon looked at the map one last time.

The old warehouse.

Southern district.

Tomorrow night.

The cold inside him moved a little, quiet and eager. He breathed, guided the Qi downward, let the elemental root absorb the pressure, and kept the temperature of the room stable. Ester noticed. Of course she noticed. But this time, she did not scold him.

Morgana closed the folder. "Damon."

He looked at her.

"Thank you for not suggesting entering through the front door and destroying everything."

"I thought about it."

"I know."

"But it would be predictable."

Aria raised a quill. "And terrible for public image."

Elizabeth added dryly, "Although efficient."

Ester looked at all of them. "You are terrible influences."

Damon smiled faintly. "Do not worry. You compensate by being unpleasant enough for everyone."

Ester pointed to the door. "Room. Now. If tomorrow you intend to participate in this planned stupidity, today you are going to rest."

Damon looked at Morgana, then at Elizabeth, Aria, and Ingrivid. No one defended him.

Not even a little.

He stood with a resigned sigh. "Traitors."

Morgana only answered, "Our problem, remember?"

Damon stopped for an instant, then laughed low.

"I remember."

And he left with Ester before she decided to drag him.