The palace corridors were quieter than usual in the deep hours before dawn. Most of the nobility had retired after the tournament's first day, their minds full of the unexpected outcomes and shifting allegiances that combat had revealed. Yarihc moved through the shadows with practiced silence, his soft-soled boots making no sound on the polished stone floors.
He had waited three hours after the last torch was extinguished in the servants' quarters before beginning his mission. The route to Princess Kira's chambers was one he had mapped weeks ago during his careful study of the palace's layout. Two turns past the portrait gallery, down the narrow corridor that connected the junior royals' wing to the main palace, then up the spiraling staircase to the third floor.
The princess's door was made of dark oak, carved with the intertwined symbols of her mother's house—House Jade's serpent coiled around a flowering vine. Yarihc paused outside, listening for any sounds from within. Nothing but the soft whisper of wind through the narrow window at the corridor's end.
He had chosen Princess Kira carefully. The 13-year-old daughter of Empress Talira was ambitious but clumsy in her political maneuvering. More importantly, she had been asking questions about the succession lately—questions that made her a potential threat to his own mother's position, and by extension, to his own future prospects.
The lock was simple, designed more for privacy than security. Yarihc withdrew a thin metal tool from his sleeve, a piece he had commissioned from a palace locksmith under the pretense of needing it for a mechanical puzzle. The tumblers gave way with barely a whisper.
Inside, the princess's chambers reflected her personality—rich fabrics in emerald and gold, books scattered across a mahogany desk, and paintings of distant landscapes covering the walls. Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting everything in silver and shadow.
Yarihc moved to the writing desk first, his eyes scanning the scattered papers. Letters from potential suitors, notes on court gossip, sketches of dress designs—the typical concerns of a young noblewoman. But he wasn't here to read her correspondence.
From his inner pocket, he withdrew a small scroll wrapped in silk. The document had taken him weeks to prepare, working in secret during the quiet hours when the palace slept. The parchment was aged with tea stains and careful handling, the ink faded to the brown of old writing. Most importantly, the wax seal bore the mark of the Sunwalker tribes—a stylized sun with radiating spears.
The letter purported to be from Chieftain Razak of the Sunwalker Nomads, acknowledging Princess Kira's offer of intelligence about imperial troop movements in exchange for gold and promises of support for her claim to the throne. The language was carefully crafted to sound like the flowery diplomatic style used by the desert tribes, peppered with references to ancient pacts and mutual benefit.
Yarihc had spent considerable effort learning the Sunwalker script from a captured merchant's documents, practicing until he could reproduce the flowing characters with convincing accuracy. The seal was more difficult—he had needed to steal wax from an actual Sunwalker caravan that had passed through the city months ago, preserving it until now.
He placed the letter in the second drawer of the desk, beneath a stack of needlework patterns where it would be hidden but not impossible to find. The positioning was crucial—too obvious and it would seem planted, too hidden and it might never be discovered.
Next, he moved to the princess's jewelry box, a lacquered chest that sat on her dressing table. Inside, among the gold chains and gem-studded bracelets, he placed a small pouch of desert sand. The grains were distinctive—reddish-brown with flecks of mica that caught the light. Sand from the Tariq Desert, where the Sunwalker tribes made their camps.
The final piece of evidence was the most delicate. From his sleeve, he withdrew a single coin—a Sunwalker gold piece marked with their tribal symbols. The coin was genuine, obtained from the same merchant whose documents had taught him the script. He slipped it into the princess's money purse, mixing it with her imperial currency where it would be found during any search.
As he worked, Yarihc's mind was already three steps ahead, calculating the chain of events his actions would set in motion. The evidence would be discovered, likely within the next few days as the palace remained on high alert following the tournament. Princess Kira would be accused of treason, her faction would be weakened, and the resulting investigation would create chaos among the noble houses.
But more importantly, the scandal would remove one of his rivals from the succession. Princess Kira was not a major threat now, but she was young and ambitious. Better to eliminate potential problems before they became actual ones.
The work took less than twenty minutes. Yarihc moved through the chambers like a ghost, replacing everything exactly as he had found it. The princess's breathing remained steady and deep from behind her bedroom door—she had not stirred during his intrusion.
He paused at the threshold, looking back at the room one final time. In the morning, Princess Kira would wake to what appeared to be a normal day. She would have no idea that her life was about to change forever, that evidence of her supposed treason was waiting to be discovered.
The hallway outside was still empty, the palace wrapped in pre-dawn silence. Yarihc made his way back through the corridors, taking a different route to avoid any possibility of being seen twice in the same area. His soft footsteps echoed faintly off the stone walls, but the sound was lost in the general whisper of wind and settling timbers that filled any large building at night.
As he approached his own chambers, Yarihc allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. The evidence was planted, positioned perfectly to be discovered at the right moment. Now came the more delicate task of ensuring that discovery happened on his timeline.
The next morning brought the tournament's second day, and with it increased security throughout the palace. The surprise defeat of Prince Darius had reminded everyone that unexpected outcomes were always possible, and the Emperor had ordered additional guards for the royal family's protection.
Yarihc took his place in the royal box with his usual composed demeanor, greeting his parents and siblings with appropriate warmth. Princess Kira sat three seats away, chatting quietly with her mother about the upcoming matches. She looked perfectly normal—there was no sign that she suspected anything amiss.
The morning's contests featured the Iron Fighter ranks, knights who had progressed beyond the initial Bronze stage. Their matches were more intense, with techniques that spoke of years of dedicated training. Yarihc watched each bout with apparent interest, but his attention was divided between the combat and the palace guards who moved through the crowd.
Captain Hendricks of the Imperial Guard was a man Yarihc had studied carefully. The fifty-year-old veteran was competent, loyal to the Emperor, and possessed of the methodical mind that made him effective at his job. More importantly, he was ambitious enough to see opportunity in uncovering a plot against the crown.
During the midday break, as the crowd dispersed to take refreshments, Yarihc made his move. He approached one of the junior guards, a young man named Sergeant Mills who had recently been assigned to palace security.
"Sergeant," Yarihc said quietly, his voice carrying just the right note of concerned urgency. "I need to speak with Captain Hendricks about a matter of some delicacy."
Mills straightened immediately. "Of course, Your Highness. Is there an immediate threat?"
"Perhaps. I'm not certain, which is why I need the Captain's expertise." Yarihc allowed a slight frown to cross his features. "I've noticed some... unusual activities that may warrant investigation."
"I'll fetch him immediately, Your Highness."
Captain Hendricks arrived within minutes, his weathered face showing the alert tension of a man ready for trouble. He was tall and lean, with graying hair and the steady gaze of someone who had seen too much to be easily surprised.
"Your Highness," he said with a respectful bow. "Sergeant Mills says you have concerns about palace security?"
"Indeed, Captain. Walk with me." Yarihc led the guard captain to a quiet alcove away from the crowd. "I've observed something that troubles me, though I hope my concerns prove unfounded."
"What have you observed, Your Highness?"
Yarihc allowed himself to appear reluctant, as if he were betraying a confidence. "I've noticed Princess Kira behaving... strangely. Late-night activities, whispered conversations with servants, unusual interest in military matters."
Captain Hendricks's expression grew more serious. "What kind of military matters?"
"Troop movements, guard schedules, supply lines. The sort of information that would be valuable to... certain parties." Yarihc let the implication hang in the air.
"I see. And you believe this information might be leaving the palace?"
"I don't know what to believe, Captain. That's why I'm bringing this to you rather than making accusations." Yarihc's voice carried the perfect tone of worried uncertainty. "Princess Kira is family, after all. I would hate to see her involved in anything... inappropriate."
The guard captain nodded slowly. "Your concerns are noted, Your Highness. I'll look into the matter discreetly."
"I appreciate your discretion, Captain. I hope I'm wrong about this."
"As do I, Your Highness. As do I."
As they parted ways, Yarihc felt the familiar satisfaction of a plan set in motion. Captain Hendricks would investigate, the evidence would be found, and Princess Kira's fate would be sealed. The guard captain would get credit for uncovering a plot against the Empire, while Yarihc would appear to be a loyal family member who had acted out of duty despite personal reluctance.
The afternoon's tournament matches proceeded with their usual pageantry, but Yarihc's mind was focused on the investigation he had just initiated. By evening, palace guards would be quietly searching Princess Kira's chambers. By tomorrow, the scandal would break.
As the sun began to set and the day's competitions wound down, Yarihc noticed Captain Hendricks moving through the crowd with purposeful intent. The investigation had begun, and soon the carefully planted evidence would be discovered.
Princess Kira remained oblivious, laughing at something her mother had whispered and applauding enthusiastically as the final match concluded. She had no idea that her world was about to collapse around her, that an eleven-year-old boy had just destroyed her future with a few forged documents and a handful of desert sand.
The tournament would continue for one more day, but for Yarihc, the real competition was already won. Another rival eliminated, another obstacle removed from his path to power. The game of thrones had no rules except victory, and he intended to win by any means necessary.