Nero considered carefully. "He's the only one who's shown genuine concern for our wellbeing rather than our symbolic value. But trust is a luxury we can't afford. We verify everything."
A soft knock interrupted them. Nero tensed, hand moving instinctively to where his weapons should be, but Casteel placed a calming touch on his arm.
"Enter," Casteel called.
Captain Aldric stepped inside, his weathered face grave. Behind him came two guards Nero didn't recognize—young men with the eager expressions of recent recruits.
"Your Excellencies," Aldric began formally, then glanced at the guards. "You may wait outside."
The younger men hesitated, clearly having received different orders, but Aldric's authority won out. Once they were alone, the captain's demeanor shifted subtly.
"I'll speak plainly," Aldric said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "The palace has ears, and time grows short."
Nero studied the captain carefully. The man's face was a map of old battles—a scar bisecting his right eyebrow, another puckering the skin beneath his jaw. His eyes held the wary calculation of a soldier who'd survived by trusting no one completely.
"Why should we trust you?" Nero asked bluntly.
A muscle twitched in Aldric's jaw. "You shouldn't. Not fully." His gaze shifted to Nero, hardening slightly. "I lost both my brothers to the rebellion. Tomas at the Eastern Garrison. Kell at River's Bend."
Nero felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. River's Bend had been one of the bloodiest confrontations of the war—a rebellion ambush that had decimated a royal patrol. He'd been there, had helped plan the attack.
"I remember River's Bend," Nero said quietly. "It was a hollow victory."
"He was seventeen," Aldric replied flatly. "Barely knew which end of a sword to hold."
Silence stretched between them, taut with unspoken accusations. Nero felt Casteel's concern pulsing like a second heartbeat.
"Yet here you are," Casteel observed, breaking the tension. "Warning us."
"There's something you need to know," he said quietly. "About tomorrow's decree."
Nero and Casteel exchanged glances. "What about it?" Nero asked.
Aldric moved closer, lowering his voice further. "It's not just about the drought. Doran plans to announce the formation of a new military order—the Silver Guard. Soldiers answering directly to you, which basically means the High Priest rather than the generals."
The implications struck Nero immediately. "He's creating his own army."
"More than that," Aldric continued grimly. "He's planning to conscript every able-bodied man between sixteen and thirty-five. Mandatory service in the name of 'divine restoration.'"
Casteel paled. "That's half the kingdom's workforce. The farms, the trades—"
"Will be managed by the church," Aldric finished. "Under the guise of ensuring proper distribution during the crisis."
Cold understanding washed over him. The pieces clicked into place with terrifying clarity. "A theocracy," Nero breathed. "He's using us to establish complete religious control."
"The noble houses will resist," Casteel said, though his voice carried little conviction.
Aldric shook his head grimly. "Half are already in his pocket, promised positions in the new order. The others..." He shrugged meaningfully. "Accidents happen during times of upheaval."
Nero felt Casteel's growing horror at the scope of Doran's ambitions. This wasn't about fulfilling a prophecy—it was about seizing absolute power while the kingdom was too desperate to resist.
"Why tell us this?" Nero asked. "What do you gain?"
Aldric was quiet for a long moment, his scarred hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Because what Doran plans will destroy what's left of Abergenny. I've seen enough death." His eyes met Nero's directly. "Even if some of it was necessary."
The admission hung between them—not forgiveness for the death of his brother, but acknowledgment of a shared desire to prevent further bloodshed.
"What do you propose?" Casteel asked.
