Lord Fenn's spy network had one weakness: they all reported to one man.
Caelan had discovered this crucial fact three days earlier while examining the financial documents provided by the Whisper.
Among Fenn's many expenses was a recurring payment to someone identified only as "The Curator," with amounts large enough to suggest this person managed multiple agents.
"A central figure," Caelan had explained to Aldric and Lady Elara during their clandestine meeting at The Gilded Quill.
"Someone who gathers intelligence from various sources and filters it before reporting to Lord Vaeron."
"A spymaster," Elara had agreed.
"But identifying such a person won't be easy. They operate in shadows by necessity."
"Not complete shadows," Caelan had countered.
"They must still move in court circles to gather high-level intelligence.
Someone with legitimate reason to interact with nobles, servants, and messengers without raising suspicion."
Now, standing among the colourful blooms of the palace gardens, Caelan watched the afternoon's gathering with calculating eyes.
The royal gardener's spring exhibition had drawn dozens of nobles and their entourages, creating the perfect environment for observation.
His cane provided both his disguise of weakness and a convenient place to lean while he studied the interactions around him.
Six potential candidates had emerged from his research—courtiers who matched the profile of Fenn's potential spymaster.
Each held a minor but useful position, each had connections throughout the palace, and each received income larger than their official positions would explain.
Today's garden party provided the perfect opportunity to observe them in their natural environment.
"Lord Albrecht," a cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts.
"How delightful to see you enjoying the sunshine!"
Caelan turned to find Baron Welsley, a portly nobleman known for his harmless gossip and extensive knowledge of court fashion.
The baron was not on Caelan's list of suspects—too obvious, too garrulous to be an effective spymaster.
"Baron," Caelan acknowledged with a polite nod, maintaining his persona of the fragile noble.
"The gardeners have outdone themselves this year."
"Indeed, indeed! Those blue thornflowers from the Western Isles are particularly striking. I was just discussing their rarity with Lady Merrick."
The baron gestured toward a slender woman in a lavender gown examining flowers nearby.
Lady Julianna Merrick—the third name on Caelan's list of suspects.
Royal botanist, with access to gardens frequented by nobles for private conversations.
Her position allowed her to travel between noble estates to collect specimens, and her scientific background would provide the methodical mind needed for intelligence work.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Caelan said mildly.
"Oh, you must meet her! Julianna, my dear!"
The baron waved enthusiastically.
"Come, meet Lord Albrecht!"
Lady Merrick approached with graceful steps, her expression professionally pleasant.
"Lord Albrecht, what an honour. I knew your father many years ago. A man of refined tastes in many things, including garden design."
"You're too kind," Caelan replied, studying her carefully.
Nothing in her manner suggested anything beyond courtly politeness, but Marcus Chen had learned to look deeper than surface impressions.
Her eyes moved constantly, cataloging everyone around them.
Her position, though seemingly random, provided clear sightlines to three separate noble gatherings.
"I understand you've been unwell," she continued.
"The palace gardens can be quite restorative. I would be happy to recommend certain herbs that might ease your symptoms."
"That's most considerate," Caelan said.
"Though I fear my condition extends beyond what herbs can remedy."
"One never knows. Nature holds many secrets."
Something in her tone carried a double meaning.
"Perhaps you might visit my conservatory tomorrow?
I've recently acquired specimens with... unusual properties."
"I would be honoured," Caelan replied, noting how her gaze flickered briefly toward Lord Vaeron Fenn, who stood near the garden's central fountain.
Baron Welsley excused himself to greet another noble, leaving Caelan and Lady Merrick in momentary privacy.
"Your father was interested in botanical rarities as well," she said, her voice lower now. Particularly plants with properties that could counteract magical influences. A fascinating area of study."
The reference to Nullcraft applications was unmistakable.
Lady Merrick knew something about his family's history—knowledge that had been deliberately erased from official records.
"My father had diverse interests," Caelan responded carefully.
"Though I confess my own knowledge of his studies is limited."
"What a shame."
Her smile remained pleasant, but her eyes had hardened slightly.
"Knowledge, once lost, is difficult to recover. Though not impossible for those with the right... resources."
Before Caelan could respond, a servant approached Lady Merrick, bowing low.
"My lady, Master Dorian requests your expertise regarding the eastern specimens. Something about improper soil conditions."
"Duty calls."
She offered Caelan a parting smile.
"Do consider my invitation, Lord Albrecht. Some conversations are better conducted among the flowers, away from the palace walls."
As she departed, Caelan filed away every detail of their interaction.
Lady Merrick had just risen to the top of his suspect list.
Her pointed references to his father's interest in Nullcraft plants, her carefully chosen position in the garden, her oblique offer of "resources"—all suggested someone with deeper connections than her position would indicate.
Caelan continued his circuit of the garden, maintaining the appearance of a sickly noble taking gentle exercise. While he exchanged pleasantries with various courtiers, his attention remained fixed on Lady Merrick, who had joined a grey-haired man near the eastern flower beds.
Master Dorian Voss—the royal gardener and sixth on Caelan's list of suspects.
Like Lady Merrick, his position provided excellent cover for gathering intelligence.
Gardens were traditional meeting places for discreet conversations, and a gardener could move anywhere on the grounds without question.
As Caelan watched, Lord Sylvan Vess—the king's advisor whom Elara had warned him about—approached the pair.
Their conversation appeared casual, but their body language suggested tension.
After a brief exchange, all three glanced around the garden before moving toward a small gate partially hidden by climbing roses.
This was the opportunity Caelan had been waiting for.
He made his way slowly along the garden path, pausing occasionally as if winded by the slight exertion.
By the time he reached the gate, the trio had disappeared, but the latch remained slightly ajar—an oversight that seemed unlikely for people so careful in their movements.
A trap?
Possibly.
But the risk of missing this intelligence opportunity outweighed the danger.
Caelan slipped through the gate, finding himself in a narrow service corridor used by gardeners to transport soil and plants without disturbing the aesthetic of the main gardens.
At the corridor's end, a door stood partially open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
He removed his cane's decorative handle, revealing a slim dagger concealed within—one of many modifications Aldric had made to his "helpless noble" accessories.
Drawing on both Marcus Chen's infiltration skills and the Nullcraft techniques he'd been practising, Caelan descended the stairs silently.
The staircase led to an underground passage—part of the palace's extensive network of service tunnels.
Following the sound of distant voices, Caelan navigated through the dimly lit corridors, using shadow salve to darken his appearance and Nullcraft techniques to detect any magical wards or alarms.
The passage eventually opened into a larger space—an abandoned wine cellar, judging by the empty racks lining the walls.
Caelan positioned himself behind a massive oak barrel, peering through a gap to observe the room beyond.
What he saw confirmed his worst suspicions.
The cellar had been converted into a ritual chamber.
Black candles formed a crescent pattern on the stone floor.
In the centre stood a simple altar covered with a cloth bearing the familiar half-eclipse symbol of the Eclipsed Order.
Around this altar gathered twelve figures in dark robes, their faces concealed by hoods.
Lady Merrick and Master Voss stood among them, their garden attire replaced by ceremonial robes. Lord Vess, the king's advisor, stood at the head of the gathering, his hood pushed back to reveal his face illuminated by candlelight.
"Brothers and sisters," Vess began, his voice resonating with practised authority.
"The alignment approaches. After centuries of waiting, the stars finally favour our purpose."
"The Seraph stirs," the gathered cultists responded in unison.
"For generations, we have preserved the knowledge, waiting for the signs foretold by our founders,"
Vess continued.
"The weakening of the binding. The awakening of the cursed blood. The return of the shadow to House Albrecht."
Caelan felt a chill run down his spine. They were discussing him.
"The young lord shows signs of awakening," Lady Merrick reported.
"I observed him today. The marks are visible beneath his skin when he believes no one is watching. Faint, but unmistakable."
"Like his mother," another cultist added.
"She bore the same marks."
"But Eveline Morath used her gifts to strengthen the binding, not release it," Vess said, his tone hardening.
"A mistake we corrected. Her son must be guided more carefully."
The casual reference to his mother's fate confirmed what Caelan had begun to suspect—her disappearance had been no coincidence, but a deliberate elimination by the Eclipsed Order.
"Lord Vaeron has played his part well," Master Voss commented.
"Pushing the boy, creating pressure that forces his abilities to surface."
"Unwittingly," Lady Merrick added with a cold smile.
"Fenn believes he acts for his interests alone. He does not understand his role in our greater purpose."
"A tool, nothing more," Vess agreed.
"Once the Albrecht heir's blood has awakened fully, Fenn's usefulness ends."
One of the hooded figures stepped forward—smaller than the others, with feminine hands that emerged from voluminous sleeves.
"The preparations proceed at the Crescent Chamber," she reported.
"The vessel will be ready when the moon reaches its dark phase."
"Excellent," Vess replied.
"And the containment circle?"
"Complete. When the Albrecht heir's blood releases the Seraph, the transfer ritual will begin immediately."
Their plans became clear to Caelan.
The Eclipsed Order wasn't just seeking to free the Black Seraph from its centuries-long imprisonment within the Albrecht bloodline—they intended to transfer it to some kind of prepared vessel under their control.
"What of the Nullcraft complications?"
Master Voss asked.
"If the boy has inherited his mother's abilities as well as his father's blood..."
"Nullcraft is merely the shadow of shadow," Vess dismissed the concern.
"A resistance that appears when the true magic awakens. It cannot stop what comes, only delay it briefly."
"And if he resists?"
Lady Merrick pressed.
"Eveline Morath proved more formidable than anticipated."
"Then we proceed as we did with his mother," Vess said coldly.
"Though I would prefer to avoid such measures. The ritual requires willing blood for optimal results."
The female cultist spoke again.
"The Black Halo reports their recruitment attempt failed. The Albrecht heir seems... uncooperative."
"Then we must be more persuasive," Vess replied.
"Lord Vaeron's pressure alone is insufficient. We need leverage that cannot be denied."
"What do you suggest?"
Lady Merrick asked.
"We have three days until the dark moon. Find something—or—someone the Albrecht heir values.
His loyal servant, perhaps.
His new alliance with House Thorne.
Create pressure that forces him to seek power rather than resist it."
Caelan had heard enough.
Careful not to disturb even the dust beneath his feet, he backed away from his hiding place and began retracing his steps through the underground passages.
His mind raced with the implications of what he'd witnessed.
The Eclipsed Order had been manipulating events for years—perhaps decades.
His father's false imprisonment, his mother's disappearance, the systematic pressure placed on House Albrecht—all orchestrated to create conditions that would "awaken" whatever they believed slept in his blood.
Even Lord Vaeron Fenn, for all his malice and power, was merely a pawn in their larger game.
A tool to be discarded once its usefulness ends.
Most disturbing was their mention of his mother.
The Eclipsed Order had "corrected" her attempts to strengthen the binding that contained the Black Seraph.
They had eliminated her when she posed a threat to their plans, and now they intended to use her son to complete what she had died preventing.
As Caelan emerged from the service corridor back into the garden, resuming his pose as the weak Lord Albrecht, a cold determination settled in his heart.
For years, he had believed House Fenn was his primary enemy.
Now he understood they were merely the visible thread in a much larger web.
The Eclipsed Order had been pulling strings for generations, manipulating nobles and commoners alike toward their dark purpose.
They had killed his mother, imprisoned his father, and now sought to use him as a vessel for an entity his ancestors had sacrificed everything to contain.
"The puppet discovers his strings," Caelan murmured to himself as he made his way back to the main garden, nodding politely to passing nobles who saw only a frail young lord taking air among the flowers.
But puppets could cut their strings.
And this puppet now knew exactly who held them.
Three days until the dark moon.
Three days to prepare for whatever the Eclipsed Order planned.
Three days to protect those they might target as leverage against him—Aldric, Lady Elara, perhaps others.
The game had changed fundamentally.
No longer was Caelan fighting merely to restore House Albrecht's position or avenge his father's death.
He was fighting to prevent the very catastrophe his ancestors had sacrificed to avoid—the return of the Black Seraph to Velderra.
And somewhere in the palace's abandoned east wing, his mother's workshop might hold the key to stopping them.