The chamber fell quiet once the last footsteps faded down the corridor. Only the low crackle of coals remained.
Altan remained at the war table, his hands resting on either side. Stormwake stood across from him. Nivak approached silently, drawing a rolled dossier from inside his sleeve.
"Five months," Altan said, eyes on the table. "A lot can shift in five months. Give me everything."
Nivak nodded and began to speak.
"All realms under Stormguard control remain stable. Trade routes are intact. Construction continues at Jadeheaven and Seaborne Crown. There were a few border skirmishes in the north, but nothing large."
Altan listened, unmoving.
"But the real concern is the Dazhum front," Nivak continued. "Two months ago, our embedded spy cells stopped reporting. No signals. No coded markers. Not a trace."
"Compromised or purged," Altan said.
"Likely both," Nivak replied. "We've confirmed increased troop movement in the western interior. Civilians are being relocated from coastal cities. They're preparing."
Altan's gaze didn't shift. "And our eyes are blind."
"For now."
Altan stood upright. "We need a new net. One they won't expect. The borders are locked down. We can't send agents the usual way. So we do something they won't ignore."
He walked toward the window. "We hold an event. Athletic games. Martial contests. The best of every city gathered in one place."
Stormwake tilted his head. "Where?"
"Seaborne Crown. We'll finish construction in one month. The event begins two months from now."
Stormwake crossed his arms. "They won't stay out. Even if we don't invite them."
Altan nodded. "Exactly. The Dazhum and every other rival state will send people anyway. Maybe disguised. Maybe cloaked as diplomats or merchants. That's the point."
He turned to Stormwake. "Send invitations across the eastern realms. All major cities. Include every known sect, militia, and martial hall. Even the minor ones."
Stormwake gave a short nod. "I'll prepare the list."
Altan looked at Nivak. "You'll enter the Crucible. And the Chasm."
Nivak's jaw set, but he gave a nod. "Understood."
"There's a method kept within. Not a weapon. A transformation technique. It lets one mimic the body and aura of a target. With time, even their gait, their reflexes. You'll need it."
Altan stepped toward him.
"No spies will get through clean. But one who becomes someone else might."
Stormwake said nothing. He only watched his son.
Nivak bowed once.
"When do I enter?"
Altan turned his gaze to the great seal at the base of the hall.
"Now."
Without another word, Nivak stepped from the chamber. Down the corridor. Toward the gate.
It opened without announcement. No flames. No horns.
Just stone sliding aside.
He entered.
And the gate closed behind him.
Altan stayed still for a moment, then glanced toward Stormwake.
"Are you all right with this? Assigning your son to something this dangerous?"
Stormwake's eyes didn't leave the gate. "If the fates will it, then so be it."
Altan nodded once. "I don't send great talent to die. This isn't a suicide mission. He has a role only he can fill."
Two months would pass before the invitations were sent.
Two months to lay the bait. Prepare the grounds. Plant the eyes. Set the hidden blades.
And on the dawn of the forty-ninth day, the stone gate opened again.
Nivak emerged from the Chasm Chamber.
His aura had changed. The gait stronger.
Altan did not speak. He simply gave a nod. The plan would begin.
Altan asked Nivak if all new spies from the Dazhum Empire had been flagged and marked.
Nivak replied without delay. "In the Free Cities, there are spies, and in the Vrael Gate. They entered posing as traders and merchants from the Southern Isles. In the Havenborn realm, we've marked all infiltrators. They claimed to be freedmen, newly liberated from the outer fringes, small villages, abandoned towns. We're monitoring them discreetly. And as you ordered before the construction began, we'll act like we don't know. We watch, but never interfere."
Altan gave a short nod. "And Chaghan?"
"He's been informed. Quietly."
Altan stepped back from the table. "Prepare the travel fleet. We sail to Safehaven."
The fleet departed from the northern harbor beneath the Vrael Gate, steel keels slicing through the jade-black waters as dawn broke over the cliffs. Three capital ships and eight escort vessels moved in formation, Stormguard banners unfurled, sigils ablaze with resonance.
Aboard the lead vessel stood Altan, cloaked in storm-dyed robes, his disciples gathered behind him.
Chaghan awaited at Safehaven's central dock, flanked by Daalo the Chief Engineer, the Deputy Warden, Lord Qui, newly appointed commander of the naval base, and newly elected freedmen officials. Behind them rose the skyline of the Freedmen Realm, new towers, stormforged barracks, and the half-finished crest of Jadeheaven Bastion.
Altan's disciples walked beside him as they disembarked. They were more than commanders. Each one led an elite arm of the Stormguard, the vanguard handpicked for the campaign to come:
Nyzekh commanded one thousand of the Void-aligned Nyzekh Stormguards, stealth elites wielding Eclipsed Fang sabers and draped in Nullmantle.
Bruga, broad-shouldered and fire-eyed, led the Skarnulf Stormguards. A thousand beastkin warriors forged in Fire and Earth, armed with Pyrebite axes and clad in Emberplate.
Kael, wind-shadowed and silent, moved with the air itself. He commanded the five hundred Stormblades, specialists in covert operations, users of the Whisperdraw technique and Twilight Gale form.
Wen Tu stood with serene posture, the elemental War Mage commander of five hundred Stormcasters. They held dominion over regenerative stillness, wielding Verdance warstaves to mend and shatter alike.
Sister Mavari led the Stormguard Hospitaliers. A two-hundred-fifty strong order of qi-healers, warrior-medics, and brine-stitching savants.
And Nivak, recently returned from the Chasm, led the Qorjin-Ke scouts, another two hundred fifty Beastbound trackers, swarm-echo navigators, and scent-command experts.
As for Ryoku, he was yet to receive his charge. His post would be decided upon arrival. The Deputy Warden had seen to it personally, each soldier chosen for their mastery of Stoneheart and Waterheart resonance.
All were Altan's disciples. All bound to the cause.
And the games,
The trap,
Were soon to begin.
Chaghan, Deputy Stormguard Warden, and Daalo gave Altan and his disciples a tour of the city. Freedmen stared at Nyzekh and Mavari, their dark elf features drawing long looks.
Altan turned to Daalo and the Deputy Warden. "There's still enough space to build in the northern zone of the city. Construct a Hospitalier hospital and an orphanage. The Hospitaliers will choose among the orphans who have the potential to join the Stormguards in the future."
He glanced at a cluster of children begging near the square. "There will be no beggars in the city. The city offers work. Street cleaners. Maintenance. Craftwork. There is always a place."
Then, turning to Chaghan, he added, "Clean up the underworld. Criminal guilds, root them out before they spread. Let them choose. Leave or serve. If they're too violent to remain criminals, then they can find new lives among the Freedman City Guards. Or, if they have the discipline, in the Stormguard."
Altan faced Daalo again. "Build an arena. A coliseum within the city walls. And in the Stormguard bastion, expand the barracks. We need training fields for the Blacktide Corps. Expand the walls to form a proper bailey for the Stormriders and cavalry. And we'll need a separate yard for the new marines."
Daalo, with his assistant at his side, began scribing the new task projects immediately. His pen moved without pause, sketching initial frameworks and notations as he followed behind Altan.
Later that night, as the camp settled beneath Safehaven's stars, Altan sent a voice qi message to Daalo.
"Show me the hidden chambers. Beneath the Stormguard Keep."
Daalo did not reply in words, only bowed in silence and turned toward the shadowed path beneath the western tower.