The King's Guard

Chapter 80

The northern outpost looked abandoned: half-collapsed watchtowers, roofs eaten by moss, the smell of metal and damp rot clinging to the air. The squad moved in a staggered line, blades drawn, boots quiet against the stone.

Reyna signalled halt. “Perimeter’s clear. Kael, take point with Kyna. Jared, cover the rear.”

Jared grumbled. “Why do I always get rear duty?”

“Because you talk too much to lead,” Ember said, climbing over a cracked wall.

Drax chuckled. “She’s not wrong.”

“Laugh it up,” Jared said, brushing past him. “When I find something, I’m keeping it.”

Kyna crouched beside a rusted hatch near the ground. “Found an entry point.”

Kael knelt beside her. “Storage bunker?”

“Looks like it. Locked, though.”

Reyna joined them. “Then we open it.”

Kael pressed his hand against the seal. Faint blue light rippled under his skin as the Rift resonated, metal whining in response. The lock clicked open with a reluctant sigh.

Drax whistled. “Handy trick.”

Kael ignored him. “Stay sharp.”

They descended into the bunker, torches flaring to life one by one as they passed. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of oil and dust.

At the bottom, a wide chamber opened before them lined with crates stamped in faded ink: Stormhaven Logistics Division.

Reyna’s brow furrowed. “Stormhaven? What would their supply crates be doing here?”

Jared stepped closer, brushing dirt off one of the markings. “Old shipment maybe. Before the treaties.”

Kyna shook her head. “These seals are recent. The wax hasn’t even cracked.”

Ember pried one crate open with her knife. Inside: rifles. Sleek, polished, new. The Stormhaven crest gleamed faintly under the torchlight.

Silence hung.

Drax broke it. “So much for ‘old shipment.’”

Kael touched one of the rifles, turning it over. “Military grade. Issued only to command units.”

Reyna’s voice hardened. “And hidden in a Veridale outpost.”

“Someone’s moving them through our own lines,” Kyna said quietly. “Stormhaven’s fingerprints are all over this.”

Jared crossed his arms. “Could be rebels scavenging.”

Reyna shot him a look. “Rebels don’t seal crates with royal insignia.”

Kael examined another. “There’s something else here.” He brushed away dust revealing an emblem burned into the crate’s wood: House Varion.

Kyna’s eyes widened. “That’s your family’s mark. Again.”

Jared stiffened. “It’s not. The rebels forge marks all the time.”

Ember’s tone stayed even. “You sure about that?”

“I said it’s not,” Jared snapped. “My father wouldn’t…”

Kael cut in. “No one’s accusing anyone. But we need to document this. As a matter of fact, we've found House Varion involved in deep shit more often than not.”

Drax stepped toward the tunnel leading deeper underground. “There’s more back here.”

They followed him into a narrower corridor. The walls pulsed faintly with light.

At the far end, a control panel flickered weakly.

Kyna moved closer. “Energy grid. But this isn’t Veridale tech.”

Kael nodded. “Stormhaven uses rune-conductive channels. See the symmetry? It’s theirs.”

“Meaning what?” Reyna asked.

“Meaning this outpost’s been reconfigured.”

Jared’s voice echoed off the stone. “For what purpose?”

No one answered.

Then Ember froze. “Wait…hear that?”

A low hum, rhythmic and deep, vibrated through the floor.

Kyna’s expression changed instantly. “That’s a charge cycle.”

“Meaning?” Drax asked.

“Meaning this whole place is about to blow.”

Reyna swore. “Everyone out!”

They turned to run, but the hum grew louder, pulsing. Kael caught sight of a rune sequence near the wall. “There’s a failsafe sigil here. I can shut it down.”

Ember grabbed his arm. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

He nodded, focusing on the runes. The Rift flared beneath his skin, connecting threads of time and light. Symbols blurred, languages merging in his vision. He saw potential outcomes branching: success, failure, collapse.

Reyna shouted over the rising sound. “Kael!”

“I’ve got it…”

He slammed his hand against the core rune. The energy flared, nearly blinding, then cut off with a crack that sent him sprawling backward.

Smoke curled from the sigil. Silence fell.

Everyone stood frozen, breathing hard.

Drax was the first to move. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.”

Ember crouched by Kael. “You alive?”

“Barely,” Kael muttered. “Next time someone else gets to be the hero.”

Reyna helped him stand. “You just saved our hides.”

Jared muttered, “Yeah, and nearly got us all vaporised.”

Reyna shot him a glare. “He stopped it. You didn’t.”

Jared’s jaw tightened. “You always take his side.”

“Because he’s right more often than you are.”

Before Jared could retort, Ember interjected, “Enough. We’ve got a cache of illegal Stormhaven weapons and a bomb rigged to bury it. That’s evidence, not a debate.”

Kael rubbed his temples. “We need to report this directly to Darius.”

Reyna nodded. “And quietly. If Archon gets wind first, it disappears.”

Kyna added, “I’ll catalogue what I can. There are serial numbers on some crates. If House Varion’s involved…”

“It’s not,” Jared cut in again, voice sharp.

Kael looked at him. “Then help prove it.”

For a heartbeat, Jared said nothing. Then he turned away. “Fine. Let’s move.”

They emerged from the bunker hours later, the night thick and still. The rain had stopped, leaving mist over the plains.

Reyna checked the horizon. “We’ll camp here till dawn.”

Drax flopped onto a crate. “Fine by me. My legs are plotting rebellion.”

Kyna began sketching notes into her field journal. Kael sat near her, cleaning his blade. Jared lingered apart, silent.

Ember passed by him. “You’ve been quiet since the bunker.”

Jared didn’t look up. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how fast loyalty changes hands,” he said.

She studied him. “You think we’re wrong?”

“I think,” he said, “that everyone’s too eager to blame Stormhaven for every shadow.”

“Stormhaven hid weapons under a Veridale outpost.”

“And maybe Veridale wanted them there,” he replied.

Ember’s brows lifted. “Careful, Jared. That sounds like conspiracy talk.”

He smirked faintly. “Maybe truth sounds like that sometimes.”

Ember left him to his thoughts.

Later, as the campfire burned low, Reyna spoke quietly to Kael.

“You’re getting reckless with that Rift.”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

He met her eyes. “You sound like Darius.”

“Then I’m doing something right.”

Kael’s smile faded. “Do you think he knows? About the weapons?”

“Darius knows more than he says. But Archon, he’ll twist this into something political.”

“He already has,” Kael murmured.

Kyna approached, handing over a slip of parchment. “I copied the markings. The serial pattern matches Stormhaven’s northern foundries.”

Kael studied the notes. “And this emblem…see here? It’s been scorched off. Deliberately.”

Reyna frowned. “To hide which shipment line?”

Kyna nodded. “Or to remove the Varion crest.”

Jared’s voice came from behind them. “You done picking apart my family?”

Kael turned slowly. “No one’s attacking your family, Jared. We’re chasing facts.”

“Facts you want to see,” Jared said. “Convenient ones.”

“Stop,” Reyna snapped. “All of you. We can’t tear ourselves apart over this.”

“Maybe we should,” Jared muttered. “Better now than later.”

Kael stood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jared met his gaze. “You think you’re the only one watching the cracks? You’re not. Just remember, when it all falls apart, you’re not the hero here.”

He walked off into the mist before anyone replied.

Reyna sighed. “He’s losing grip.”

Kyna stared after him. “Or he’s already lost it.”

Kael watched the darkness swallow Jared’s silhouette. “Either way,” he said quietly, “we’ll need him before this ends.”

Reyna looked at him, voice low. “Then you’d better make sure he remembers which side he’s on.”

By dawn, they returned to the Academy. The courtyard felt colder than usual, its stone corridors lined with banners still fluttering from the last victory parade.

Darius met them at the gate, eyes narrowing as he saw their faces.

“You found something,” he said.

Kael handed him the report. “Stormhaven weapons. Hidden beneath an abandoned Veridale outpost. The bunker was trapped.”

Darius scanned the parchment quickly, his expression unreadable. “Did anyone else see this?”

“No,” Reyna said. “We came straight here.”

“Good.” He folded the report. “Not a word to Archon.”

Kael frowned. “Sir…”

“I said not a word.” Darius’s tone sharpened. “You’ve seen enough of how politics works. Evidence means nothing if the wrong man uses it.”

Ember crossed her arms. “And what do we do with it, then?”

“Wait,” Darius said. “And watch.”

Jared muttered, “That’s not much of a plan.”

Darius’s eyes flicked to him. “It’s the only one that keeps you alive.”

The squad exchanged uneasy glances. Kael felt the Rift pulse faintly, like a heartbeat warning of storms ahead.

That night, long after curfew, Kael stood alone on the barracks roof. The city below gleamed faintly under the moon. His hands still tingled from the sigil’s discharge.

Reyna appeared behind him, silent as ever. “Can’t sleep?”

“Didn’t try.”

She stepped beside him. “You think Darius is right? That Archon will bury this?”

“I think,” Kael said softly, “we’ve started something we can’t undo.”

She watched him a moment. “Then we make sure it ends the right way.”