The First Traitor
A figure stepped forward.
Boots scraped against stone. The sound was deliberate. Calm. Almost casual.
The black robed figure stopped a few steps away from me. Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands to the edge of his hood.
And pulled it back.
I stiffened.
Not because of who he was, but because of how casually he revealed himself.
He was young. Around my age. Short green hair stirred faintly in the wind, sharp eyes reflecting the fading light of dusk. His face was clean, familiar, and utterly out of place in the robes he wore.
William.
One of the knight order’s promising recruits.
Someone I had trained with. Sparred against. Someone who had stood in formation beside me countless times.
For a brief moment, my mind rejected the sight in front of me. Not out of disbelief, but because the man standing there looked exactly as he always had. No madness in his eyes. No twisted grin.
Just William.
He noticed the slight hesitation in my posture.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“Good evening, Lord Julius,” he said.
His voice was calm. Polite.
“Mind asking how you managed to find out about our plan?”
His gaze lingered on me, sharp and calculating.
“And what was that acting just now?”
So it really was him.
The uncertainty I had carried since my return settled into something heavy and cold.
“So you were the traitor,” I said. My voice was steady. “William.”
Saying his name felt strange.
“Mind telling me why you’re doing this?”
For a moment, he simply looked at me. Then he let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.
“With all due respect, my lord,” he said, “it was never wise of the Knight Commander to let a boy of unknown origin into the knight order just because he was a orphan.”
His eyes darkened.
“Do you have any idea how long I waited?” he continued.
“How long I trained? Followed orders? Pretended?”
His fingers curled slowly at his side.
“I waited years to watch this Duchy burn to the ground.”
The words settled heavily between us.
“And you just had to interfere,” William said, irritation slipping into his voice. “But that’s fine. I don’t care about how you got to know of our plan. If today’s plan fails anyway…”
His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
“I’ll at least take the heir down with me.”
Steel slid free of its sheath, the sound sharp in the open air.
“Don’t worry, my lord,” he added.
“I’ll make it quick.”
I drew my sword.
William moved first.
He lunged, blade flashing toward my throat. I deflected it cleanly, twisting my wrist to redirect the strike past my shoulder. He adjusted instantly, pressing forward with another attack, then another.
Fast.
But not enough.
I stepped inside his guard mid swing and struck.
My blade cut into his side.
Blood spilled, dark and warm staining his uniform. William hissed in pain and leapt back, boots skidding across stone as he created distance between us.
His breathing grew heavier.
Then the wind changed.
It howled.
Air rushed violently around me, threatening my footing. Loose debris rattled across the tower roof as pressure built rapidly.
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked. “We could both die.”
William raised his sword, his expression calm once more.
“Tempest.”
The air exploded.
Violent currents wrapped around the watchtower, screaming as compressed blades of wind tore toward me. I dodged, rolled, raised my sword to block, but still felt the sting as cuts opened across my arms and shoulder.
So it had come to this.
Swordsmanship alone couldn’t win against magic. It was a fact.
But if I used mine here, the tower wouldn’t survive it.
I exhaled slowly. No other choice.
I extended my left hand forward.
The air around us vibrated violently.
“Gravity.”
Purplish waves pulsed outward, distorting space itself. William was driven to his knees as the stone beneath him cracked, splitting under the immense pressure.
Blood dripped from his mouth, but he refused to fall.
I stepped toward him.
Pain exploded through my body.
I gasped.
The pressure vanished.
My magic flickered… and died?.
What…?
Mana was still there. My circuits were still intact. I could feel everything.
But the spell wouldn’t form.
William looked up at me.
And laughed.
“What’s wrong, my lord?”
“Suddenly feel like sparing me?”
A blast of wind slammed into me.
I was thrown backward, boots screeching against stone. I stabbed my sword into the ground, muscles screaming as I resisted. The storm weakened but the force pressing against me did not.
Fine.
If magic wouldn’t answer me, I’d end this without it.
The wind faded.
William moved.
He crossed the distance in an instant, sword wrapped in hurricane like currents. I blocked his strike but the winds surrounding it tore into my flesh. The winds kept carving shallow cuts across my arms and my face.
Think.
Steel clashed again and again, sparks flying as the cracked floor beneath us trembled.
We stood above the fractured stone where I had forced him to kneel.
I gathered my mana, this time not into a spell but into my sword.
I struck the floor.
The stone collapsed.
William fell. He summoned wind currents trying to slow his descent.
The wind answered weakly. His mana was already exhausted.
I drove my sword into the wall to steady myself, then pushed off.
I crashed into him mid fall.
The wind scattered.
We hit the ground hard.
I pinned him beneath me.
My blade hovered at his throat.
The air had finally gone silent.
William lay beneath me, pinned against broken stone, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
My blade rested at his throat.
“Talk,” I said.
His lips curled into a weak smile, blood staining his teeth. He said nothing.
I watched his eyes.
There was pain there. Fear too. But not enough.
I shifted my grip and drove my sword down.
Steel pierced his thigh.
William screamed.
The sound tore out of him raw and broken as his body convulsed beneath me. Blood poured across the stone, warm against my hand. He thrashed instinctively, fingers clawing at the ground, but I did not move.
I leaned closer.
“If you don’t answer,” I said quietly, “this won’t be the only wound.”
My eyes met his.
“I will cut you apart slowly. One limb at a time.”
There was no anger in my voice. No rage.
Only certainty.
“I’ll start with your legs, then move on to your arms. You’ll live through all of it. I must keep you alive to get the information, after all.”
Something broke in his gaze.
The bravado vanished. The hatred faltered. What remained was naked fear.
“You… you’re serious,” he whispered.
I did not answer.
That was enough.
“There are three more,” William gasped. “Three infiltrators besides me.”
I withdrew the blade just enough to let him breathe.
“One of them is different,” he continued hurriedly. “An elite. Above all of us.”
My grip tightened.
“What is their role.”
“Assassination,” he said. “The prince of Everwinter. The diplomats. That’s their task.”
“And you.”
“We’re support,” he said quickly. “Me and the other two. We open the way. Disable defenses. Let reinforcements in when the time comes.”
I waited.
William swallowed.
“We don’t know who the elite is,” he said. “Face. Gender. Nothing. They’re a master of disguise. Even we were never meant to see them.”
His voice shook.
“That’s all I know. I swear it.”
Footsteps echoed from outside.
Voices.
Guards.
I stood and stepped away from him.
By the time I emerged from the ruined watchtower, armoured men were already surrounding the debris. Torches lit up the broken stone and bloodstains.
“My lord,” one of them said urgently. “Are you injured. What was that storm just now.”
“Secure the area,” I said. “Retrieve the man from the rubble.”
They hesitated when they saw William.
“He is to be imprisoned,” I continued. “Charges are treason against the Grand Duchy and attempted assassination of a noble.”
The guards exchanged looks.
“The rest of his crimes will be uncovered during formal interrogation.”
One of them opened his mouth to ask something else.
I turned my gaze on him.
The words died in his throat.
“Yes, my lord,” they said in unison.
“Bring me a horse,” I added.
A moment later, reins were placed into my hand.
I rode hard toward the castle.
The gates were already crowded when I arrived. Carriages bearing Everwinter’s banners had reached the city.
Guards shouted orders. Servants rushed back and forth. Tension hung thick in the air.
A commotion was forming. I urged the horse forward.
So it had already begun, I thought to myself.
But I did not go to the banquet.
I went straight to the prisoner tower.
The air inside was cold and heavy. Torches flickered against stone walls. Someone was already there.
The Knight Commander stood in the center of the chamber, unmoving.
He was staring at the ground.
I followed his gaze.
Four bodies lay on the floor.
Three were guards. Their throats had been cut clean. Blood darkened the stone beneath them.
The fourth wore a servant’s uniform.
His eyes were still open.
One of the moles.
My hand clenched.
I had seen this before.
Different place. Different time. Same result.
I failed to save them again.
But I didn’t have the time to grieve. The night was far from over.
