Chapter 122 – The General’s SmileThe siege camp of Kael Varros stretched across the plains like a sea of iron. Tens of thousands of soldiers, their banners snapping in the wind, watched the city of Calvess. For weeks, the rhythm of their drums had been relentless, hammering fear into stone.But tonight, the drums were silent.Because tonight, the city was burning itself alive.Kael Varros stood at the edge of the camp, cloak trailing in the dust, hands folded neatly behind his back. His face—scarred from battles long won—was calm, almost amused. The glow of fire from Calvess’s streets reflected in his cold eyes.“Listen to them,” he murmured. The faint sound of shouting, the clash of steel, drifted across the plain. “That is the music of victory, played by their own hands.”His second-in-command, General Ryn, frowned. “Should we strike now, my lord? The gates are weak. Their walls undermanned. We could take the city before dawn.”Kael did not move. He let the silence stretch, savorin

Chapter 124 – Bread and BloodThe Granary District smelled of smoke and flour.Once, its wide warehouses had been the lifeline of Calvess, filled with sacks of grain and barrels of dried fish. Now, the streets were clogged with Bram’s men, their stolen armor glinting in the torchlight. The banners of the council had been torn down and replaced with crude symbols daubed in soot: a clenched fist gripping a sword.Bram stood atop a wagon piled high with sacks of wheat. His voice carried over the gathered crowd—hungry men, desperate women, children clutching their parents’ hands.“You see?” Bram thundered, his eyes blazing. “The council would have let you starve. They lock food away while your bellies ache. But I—your captain—will never let Calvess go hungry again.”He tore open a sack of grain and spilled it into the outstretched hands of the mob. They roared their approval, voices blending into a feverish chant of his name.“Bram! Bram! Bram!”In the shadows of the square, a woman clutc

.Chapter 126 – Shadows in the GranaryThe night pressed heavy over the city, the kind of night where even the stars seemed to hold their breath. The cobblestones gleamed faintly with dew, and the only sound was the drip of water from crooked eaves.Theo crept along the wall of the granary, trying not to think about how loud his own breathing was. Mira had drilled it into him—slow steps, soft feet, eyes ahead. But his mind was screaming louder than any footstep could.Behind him, Brie moved like a shadow, her cloak wrapped tight, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re doing fine,” she whispered. “If anyone hears us, they’ll just think it’s rats.”“Rats don’t usually panic this much,” Theo muttered.Ahead, Solenne raised her hand, halting them. She was all discipline and poise, even here in the dark. She pressed a finger to her lips and pointed to the torchlight spilling from a nearby doorway. Two of Bram’s men leaned against the wall, laughing over stolen ale, their swords carelessl

.Chapter 128 – Bram’s FuryThe fire still raged by dawn. A black column of smoke towered above Calvess, visible for miles, curling like a beacon to every starving soul in the city. What had once been Bram’s hoarded treasure of grain now lay in charred heaps, rats fleeing from the smoldering ruin.And Bram himself stood in the ashes, his jaw clenched so tight it looked ready to snap. His lieutenant, the scarred man who had barely survived the blaze, knelt before him, one arm bandaged and burned.“They escaped,” the lieutenant rasped, unable to meet Bram’s eyes.Bram’s fists curled. “Escaped? Escaped?” He seized the man by the collar and hauled him close. “My stores are ash, my power is smoke, and you bring me failure?”The lieutenant struggled. “It was the thief and the knight, the ones whispered about. And another—the boy. Clumsy. Foolish. He—he caused the explosion.”For a moment, silence. Then Bram threw the man to the ground, pacing in the ash, his boots crushing the remnants of w

.Chapter 130 – The Iron Crown TightensThe council chamber stank of smoke and fear.Every noble sat stiff in their chairs, eyes downcast, as Bram stalked before them like a wolf pacing in a cage. His cloak, once a royal crimson, was now singed black from the fires of the granary. His face, pale and gaunt beneath the flickering torchlight, twisted with barely restrained fury.The lieutenant who had returned from the Lower Quarter massacre knelt trembling, his injured arm bound in stained cloth. He dared not meet his king’s eyes.“You failed me,” Bram hissed. His voice carried more weight than any shout. “You failed your men. And worst of all—” he turned, his eyes flashing, “—you failed to deliver the boy.”The chamber froze. Several councilors exchanged nervous glances. The boy. Everyone knew Bram meant Theo—the baker’s son, the one whose name had begun to spread among the people like a whispered prayer.The lieutenant swallowed. “Sire, the rebels struck—”“Rebels?” Bram spat, seizing