Chapter 67: The Estate

Chapter 67: Chapter 67: The Estate

The investigators moved on Castellan’s estate at dawn, and Ren watched the operation unfold from a secure command tent set up at the perimeter, Reven and Yegard both coordinating with the strike team while Ren himself remained, somewhat reluctantly, positioned as backup rather than frontline presence, a compromise Reven had negotiated after considerable, pointed argument the night before.

"Movement at the east wing," a voice crackled over the comm, and Ren leaned forward, watching the live feed from the investigators’ body cameras flicker across the central display.

Castellan’s estate looked nothing like Ren had expected, not the grand, imposing fortress of old nobility he’d pictured, but something considerably more modest, weathered stone and overgrown gardens that spoke plainly to fifteen years of reduced circumstances, the Archduke’s once-vast holdings whittled down to something barely larger than a comfortable country manor.

"He’s not resisting," Yegard observed, watching the feed with narrowed, focused attention. "That’s either genuine innocence, or a man confident enough in his preparations that he doesn’t fear what we’ll actually find."

The answer came within the hour, investigators moving systematically through the estate’s lower levels, and Ren felt his stomach tighten as the feed shifted toward a hidden sublevel, concealed behind a section of cellar wall that had clearly been engineered to avoid casual discovery.

"We’ve got something," the lead investigator reported, voice tight with focused urgency. "Extensive technical workshop, matching the component signatures from the recovered device. Archives too, correspondence, financial records going back years."

"Secure everything," Reven said immediately, something sharp and satisfied cutting through his careful composure. "Full documentation before anything gets moved or disturbed."

Ren watched the feed continue, investigators carefully photographing and cataloguing the hidden workshop’s contents, and felt grim satisfaction building alongside lingering unease. ’We found it,’ he thought, watching the methodical, careful work unfold. ’Actual proof, not just circumstantial suspicion.’

The satisfaction didn’t last long.

"Sir," a different voice cut through the comm, something alarmed entering the transmission, "Archduke Castellan is requesting to speak with the Crown Prince directly. He says he has information that changes the context of this entire investigation."

Reven’s expression sharpened immediately, something wary replacing his earlier satisfaction. "Put him through," he said after a brief hesitation.

The feed shifted, and Ren found himself looking at an older man, silver-haired and gaunt in a way that suggested considerably more stress than simple age accounted for, standing in what appeared to be his estate’s modest study, flanked by two investigators.

"Your Highness," Castellan said, voice carrying a strange mixture of resignation and something sharper underneath it. "I imagine you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself right now, having finally found the evidence you came looking for."

"I’d be considerably more interested in whatever you believe changes the context here," Reven said, voice flat and controlled despite the obvious tension in his posture.

"I funded Vorhesk’s splinter faction," Castellan said, something almost relieved in the blunt admission, "but not for the reasons you likely assume. Not simple revenge, not some delusional second attempt at the throne." He paused, something genuinely troubled crossing his gaunt features. "I was approached, two years ago, by a representative claiming to work on behalf of a foreign power, one with considerable interest in your dual-classification asset specifically. They offered resources, protection for what remains of my House, in exchange for creating exactly the kind of chaos that would eventually expose and isolate him."

Ren felt cold dread settle hard into his stomach, something far larger than a single disgraced noble’s grievance apparently lurking beneath the surface of everything that had happened so far.

"What foreign power," Reven demanded, something sharp and urgent cutting through his controlled composure.

"They never gave a name," Castellan said, something bitter entering his voice. "Only instructions, resources, and very clear consequences should I fail to deliver results or attempt to investigate them directly myself." He glanced briefly toward something off-camera, and when he spoke again, his voice had dropped lower, more urgent. "Your Highness, I’m telling you this now because they contacted me again three days ago, immediately after your Council authorization became public knowledge. They’re accelerating their own plans, with or without my continued cooperation. Whatever this investigation uncovers about me is, I suspect, already secondary to what they’re actually preparing."

Yegard’s hand found the comm, voice sharp with immediate command authority. "What kind of acceleration," he demanded. "Specifics, now."

"I don’t have specifics," Castellan admitted, something genuinely frightened entering his gaunt expression. "Only that they mentioned a timeline, something about not needing my faction’s cooperation much longer, that they had alternative resources considerably closer to the Crown than Vorhesk ever managed to achieve."

The implication landed hard and immediate, and Ren watched Reven’s expression shift from controlled investigation into something considerably sharper, more alarmed.

"Closer to the Crown," Reven repeated slowly. "Meaning what. Someone within the palace itself."

"I genuinely don’t know," Castellan said, something desperate entering his voice now. "I’ve told you everything I actually know. Please, Your Highness, whatever punishment this investigation ultimately brings for my own involvement, I’m asking you to take this warning seriously. Whatever’s actually coming, it’s considerably larger than my own foolish desperation to reclaim what little remains of my House’s standing."

The transmission cut, and Ren found himself staring at the now-blank display, dread settling heavy and cold through his entire body.

"A mole," Yegard said grimly, already turning toward the command tent’s exit. "Someone within the palace, feeding information to whatever’s actually behind this."

"We need to return immediately," Reven said, already moving as well, urgency replacing his earlier careful composure entirely. "If Castellan’s warning is accurate, if someone’s actually operating closer to us than we’ve realized, every moment we remain here investigating his estate is a moment that compromises security back at the palace."

Ren rose as well, fear for Milo and Finn’s safety overriding every other consideration instantly. "They’re alone there," he said, voice tight. "With whatever security remained behind."

"Palace security remains considerably robust even without our direct presence," Yegard said, though his own urgency belied the reassurance. "But we’re not taking chances, not with this kind of warning."

They moved fast, the return transport already being prepared, and Ren found himself gripping the edge of his seat throughout the entire, tense journey back toward the palace, fear and urgency tangling tight in his chest despite Yegard’s continued reassurance that palace security remained more than capable of handling any immediate threat.

The palace came into view considerably sooner than their outbound journey had taken, pilots clearly pushing the transport’s capabilities to their absolute limit, and Ren felt his heart hammering hard as they touched down, already moving before the ramp had fully lowered.

He found Milo and Finn exactly where he’d left them, safe within the private wing’s secure common area, both boys looking up with obvious surprise at his sudden, urgent return.

"Elder brother," Finn said, confusion evident, "you’re back early."

Ren crossed the room and pulled both boys into a fierce, relieved embrace, the raw terror of the journey back finally easing now that he could see, directly, that they remained unharmed. "I’m here," he said, voice rough with lingering fear. "You’re both okay."

Milo studied him carefully, his usual sharp perceptiveness picking up immediately on the underlying tension despite Ren’s efforts to mask it. "Something happened," he said, not quite a question.

Ren hesitated, weighing how much to actually share, and found Reven’s hand settling steady against his shoulder, something grim but controlled in his expression as he crossed to join them.

"We learned something that requires considerable additional caution," Reven said, choosing his words carefully for the boys’ benefit. "The investigation isn’t finished yet. There may be someone closer to us than we previously realized, someone we haven’t yet identified."

Milo’s expression tightened at that, old, hard-won wariness resurfacing despite the relative safety of recent weeks. "Here, in the palace," he said slowly.

"Possibly," Reven admitted, something honest in the admission despite its unsettling implication. "We don’t know for certain yet. But we’re taking the possibility seriously, and we’re going to find out exactly who we’re actually dealing with."

Ren felt the weight of that settle heavy across his shoulders, the investigation’s apparent resolution having revealed, instead, a considerably larger and more immediate threat than Castellan alone had ever represented. ’Someone inside,’ he thought, holding both boys close while Yegard moved to coordinate additional security measures with the palace guard. ’Someone we’ve trusted, or at least allowed close enough to learn things they shouldn’t know.’

The question now wasn’t simply who had backed Castellan from the shadows.

It was who, within these walls, might be working against them even now.