Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 390. Looking For Allies
Angel nodded. "Exactly. Which means either way, he's planning something. And if I'm right about the King of Harmonia being as ill as the rumors say, then Jake won't be a prince much longer. He'll be a king. And we'll be facing someone with ambition, a growing list of enemies, and eyes set far beyond his borders."
Cley frowned. "You're saying he'll come for us?"
"I'm saying," Angel said, "he'll want to know if we're on his side… or in his way."
The study dimmed slightly as a passing cloud softened the light from outside. Angel leaned back in his chair, the lines on his face sharper in the shadow. Not tired. Just alert. Watchful.
"I want a watch placed on the Harmonian delegation. Nothing too obvious. I don't want them feeling cornered. Just… attentive guards. And I want every bit of news we can get from inside Harmonia. Court gossip, troop movements, internal disputes—everything."
"I'll get someone on it," Cley said without hesitation. "Discreet."
Angel gave a faint nod. "Also, summon Darius again when he's free. I want to hear his take on this… spy firsthand."
"And the spy?" Cley asked. "Still in Darius' hands?"
"For now. He hasn't earned anything worse. Yet."
Angel picked up a quill from the desk and began idly spinning it between his fingers, eyes never leaving the door. His mind wasn't here in the study anymore—it was already ten steps ahead, planning out scenarios, possibilities, outcomes. He didn't believe in coincidences, not when it came to politics. And especially not when the next king of Harmonia was already reaching beyond his kingdom's borders.
After a moment, Angel spoke again, quieter this time. "If Prince Jake is truly looking for allies, then we'll let him come to us."
"And if he's not?" Cley asked.
Angel looked up, eyes calm and sharp. "Then we'll be ready."
That answer made Cley go quiet.
He stood there, just watching him. No witty comment. No follow-up remark. And that said more than anything. Cley had always been the one to lighten the mood, crack a joke even in the tensest moments, but right now… that part of him wasn't anywhere to be found. He'd expected Angel to react the way he always did when something even remotely suspicious happened—decisively, coldly, with that ruthless edge that didn't leave room for second chances.
But that wasn't what he saw.
Angel had returned to his paperwork, scanning over reports with his quill tapping a slow rhythm on the corner of the desk. He didn't even look up.
The air in the study felt still. There was a faint, earthy scent of parchment and ink, mixed with the lingering aroma of black tea someone had brought in earlier but had since gone cold.
"You look like you've got something to say," Angel muttered after a moment, not bothering to glance up.
Cley cleared his throat. "Not really," he said, stepping forward slowly. "I just… didn't think you'd forgive the spy. Or Prince Jake."
Angel's quill paused mid-note, but only for a second. Then he kept writing, calm as ever. "I didn't forgive him."
Cley furrowed his brows. "Could've fooled me."
Angel finally looked up, and the look he gave wasn't angry—it was just tired. Focused. Careful. "I'm not doing this out of mercy. I'm doing it because it's the smarter play."
Cley folded his arms. "But still… it's not like you to let something like this slide."
Angel leaned back, resting the quill on the edge of the ink pot. "You're right," he said. "It's not like me. Normally, I would've made an example of him by now."
"So why didn't you?"
There was a long pause before Angel finally answered.
"Because war isn't won by pride," he said softly. "It's won by timing."
Cley blinked, not expecting that answer.
Angel stood from the desk and walked over to the tall window, the light washing across his profile, outlining his features in soft gold. He kept his hands behind his back, watching the courtyard below where a few knights were practicing in pairs. The rhythmic clash of wooden training blades reached faintly into the study.
He continued, "If I punish the spy now, or send Jake a message laced with threats, I give them a reason to rally. I give Jake a reason to think I'm predictable. Emotional. Threatened."
"And you're not?" Cley asked, genuinely curious.
Angel shook his head. "I'm cautious. But not threatened."
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