The Broken Halo

”The White Crown has already arrived in Velmora.”

For several breaths, none of the three Vice Commanders responded.

The revelation about Blackmoon and the Shadowgrave Clan had already made the office feel smaller. Marek’s latest statement pushed that matter aside and replaced it with something far more immediate.

Korran’s gaze sharpened.

”When?”

”He arrived this morning,” Marek replied.

Dorel’s brows drew together into a frown.

”How did a member of the royal family enter the city without my transport divisions or spatial rune masters receiving notice?”

”Through a private royal route beneath the City Lord’s estate.”

Marek’s tone remained calm, but irritation appeared beneath it.

”The route was activated from the capital. The City Lord was informed moments before the arrival. I received the sealed notice afterward.”

Selan leaned forward slightly.

”So the palace deliberately prevented Black Horn from preparing a reception.”

”They did not come for one.”

Marek looked at the reports on his desk.

”The White Crown arrived with a small personal retinue and went directly to the royal guest residence beside the City Lord’s compound. He wanted no banners, no public announcement, and no ceremonial guards to commemorate his arrival.

Korran understood what that meant.

A royal arrival without ceremony was not a visit.

It was an inspection.

”The royal family is displeased,” Marek continued. ”Black Banner infiltrated this branch, freed a prisoner, killed officials inside our walls, attacked a campaign convoy, stole strategic materials, and forced the surviving force to retreat before reaching the rift site.”

His pale-orange eyes moved across the three demons before him.

”To the palace, those are not separate failures. They are proof that Velmora’s Black Horn branch may no longer be capable of protecting the road to Earth.”

Dorel’s jaw tightened.

”The road has not failed.”

”No,” Marek said. ”But it has consumed more time and resources than promised, and the stabilisation core meant to reduce that burden is now in rebel hands.”

Dorel glanced toward Korran.

”If the convoy had been managed properly-”

”Do not begin again,” Marek interrupted.

Selan folded his arms.

”Korran commanded the operation. That cannot be ignored.”

”Neither can the spies your division failed to identify, nor the delays in Dorel’s preparations, nor my failure to prevent all of it.”

The room became quiet.

Marek did not raise his voice, and that made his words heavier.

”The White Crown will not care which of you can construct the most convincing excuse. Every failure occurred beneath my command, and every one of us will answer for it.”

Korran’s fingers tightened once against the armrest.

Marek continued.

”The other branches have already begun circling. Some claim Velmora has become Black Banner’s second office. Others say our Horn is hollow and the rebels only need to knock before we open the door.”

Dorel’s expression darkened.

”Rumours spread by rivals.”

”Of course,” Marek replied. ”But rumours become dangerous when facts make them believable.”

One northern branch had offered to take control of several Velmora field units until order was restored. Another had volunteered formation experts to supervise Dorel’s divisions.

Neither offer had been made out of kindness.

They were testing whether Velmora’s authority had weakened enough to be divided.

Selan’s smoke-grey eyes narrowed.

”What power has the White Crown been given over the branch?”

”All the power the title normally carries, with additional authority over the Earth campaign.”

Marek rested both hands on the desk.

”He may inspect every department, suspend any officer, replace commanders, alter the invasion structure, and seize control of the rift’s preparations.”

Dorel’s face changed at the final words.

”He can remove me from the rift?”

”He can remove all of us.”

Marek’s gaze shifted from Dorel to Selan, then to Korran.

”If he concludes that we are merely incompetent, the worst outcome is dismissal, demotion, or reassignment to positions where our names will never matter again.”

Korran heard what Marek did not immediately say.

”And if he believes one of us serves Black Banner?”

”Then losing a position will be the least of that demon’s concerns.”

A cold silence followed.

Black Banner had known too much.

The location of prisoners. Internal movements. The correct convoy. The exact wagon. The value of the three cases.

A White Crown sent to investigate would begin from the assumption that such success required help from inside Black Horn.

Marek confirmed it a moment later.

”He will suspect everyone. Clerks. Guards. Rune masters. Division heads. Vice Commanders.”

His fingers tapped the reports once.

”And me.”

Selan’s expression became unreadable.

”My counterintelligence records can account for every operative under my direct control.”

Marek shook his head.

”Records prepared by the department being investigated will not prove its innocence.”

Selan could not respond to this cause it was true.

Dorel asked, ”What about the campaign oaths?”

”They prove only that the sworn clauses have not been violated,” Marek said. ”A skilled spy can live between the words of an oath if the oath was poorly written or sworn before the correct suspicion existed.”

Korran thought of Blackmoon.

The campaign mark remained stable despite every mystery around him. For the first time, that fact felt less reassuring.

”When does the White Crown intend to summon us?” Korran asked.

”No time was given.”

Marek looked toward the narrow window.

”He has requested every report concerning the prisoner escape, the convoy, the stolen materials, Black Banner’s known cells, and every delay affecting the rift. He wants to read them before hearing any of us speak.”

”Which means he wants our explanations after forming his own conclusions,” Selan said.

”Exactly.”

Dorel exhaled through his nose.

”Do we know why he was chosen?”

Marek’s expression became more solemn.

”Because the palace does not believe this situation requires a brute or battle-loving freak. They sent someone known for uncovering what powerful demons prefer buried.”

Korran leaned back slightly.

He knew several male members of the Two-Horned Winged royal family who could wear the White Crown. Some were generals. Some were governors. Others were little more than beautifully dressed symbols of royal authority.

Marek’s description narrowed the possibilities considerably.

Selan reached the answer first, and a rare change crossed his face.

”No.”

Marek looked at him.

”Yes.”

Dorel glanced between them.

”Who?”

Marek allowed the question to hang for one breath.

Then he gave them the name of the male who now possessed the authority to strip every demon in the room of rank, freedom, or life.

”The White Crown is Prince Varen.”