Garren bent slightly and lowered his voice enough that only Darion could hear him.

"We counted the treasury."

Darion frowned faintly.

"And?"

Garren’s expression did not change.

"The amount we recovered..." he said slowly, "...is considerably larger than expected."

For the first time since the conversation with Aldric had begun, Darion’s attention shifted completely.

Larger than expected?

That was saying something.

They had already assumed Aldric kept significant reserves close to his personal quarters. Kings did not usually sleep beside empty chests. But Garren’s tone suggested something beyond "significant."

Darion looked at him carefully.

"How much larger?"

Before Garren could answer, Darion noticed movement across the table.

It was Aldric.

The former king was staring at both of them now with obvious suspicion, his exhausted eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read their expressions.

The man looked tense already, but now there was something sharper behind it.

Paranoia, fear and curiosity.

’What are they discussing?’

Darion could practically see the question forming behind his eyes.

Garren noticed it too.

His gaze flicked briefly toward Aldric before returning to Darion.

"We should discuss it later," Garren whispered carefully.

Darion understood immediately. Not here and not in front of Aldric.

Especially not while the man was already mentally unraveling.

"Go keep it safe," Darion whispered back. "I’ll deal with it after this is finished."

Garren nodded once.

All throughout the exchange, both men had kept one hand partially raised near their mouths, disguising the conversation naturally enough that Aldric couldn’t properly read their lips.

Still, Aldric was visibly trying.

Darion could see him leaning ever so slightly forward in his chair.

Trying to catch fragments, trying to understand and trying to figure out what fresh problem had appeared for him.

Garren straightened again.

Then he turned and walked toward the door.

The side room opened briefly as the guard outside stepped aside to let him pass. Torchlight from the corridor stretched into the room for half a second before the door shut again.

Silence returned.

Darion looked back at Aldric.

The king stared at him immediately.

"What was that about?" Aldric asked.

Darion ignored the question completely.

Instead, he reached mentally toward his inventory.

Two undead knights materialized instantly.

Green light flashed through the room for a brief moment as the undead appeared from nothingness beside the wall, armored bodies landing heavily against the stone floor.

Aldric visibly jolted.

Even Vera’s eyes sharpened slightly at the sight.

She already knew Darion was a necromancer. She had seen the results of his abilities.

But watching undead emerge directly from empty air was still deeply unnatural in a way the mind struggled to normalize.

The undead knights straightened immediately after materializing.

Silent, still and waiting.

Aldric looked between them and Darion with open disbelief.

"What..." he started quietly.

Darion ignored him again.

"Close the windows and doors," he ordered.

The undead moved immediately.

One crossed the room toward the windows while the other secured the main door fully. Heavy wood shut against stone with dull sounds that suddenly made the room feel much smaller.

Much more enclosed.

The torchlight seemed dimmer now.

Aldric noticed it too.

Darion watched the exact moment the panic started building properly.

The man’s breathing changed first.

Faster.

Then his shoulders tightened.

His eyes moved toward the wolf standing near the doorway.

Then toward Vera.

Then back toward Darion.

"I know you think the punishment for refusing the oath is death," Darion said calmly.

Aldric looked at him immediately.

And then—

Something clicked.

Darion saw realization spread slowly across the man’s face.

Not complete realization, but enough to understand that something worse was coming.

Darion stood from his chair.

The movement sounded very loud in the enclosed room.

Beside the table, Vera quietly adjusted herself into position. She said nothing, but her posture changed subtly, preparing herself for the oath ritual if it became necessary.

Darion walked slowly around the table.

"Well," he said calmly, "it is death eventually."

Aldric’s breathing became heavier.

"But honestly?" Darion continued. "I think dying immediately would probably be more pleasant than what I’m about to do to you if you continue making this difficult."

The wolf had not moved this entire time.

It stood perfectly still beside the door, massive body unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of undead breath that technically wasn’t even necessary.

Its single glowing eye remained fixed on Aldric.

Darion looked at it.

"Roughly untie him from the chair."

The emphasis on roughly was deliberate.

The wolf obeyed instantly.

It crossed the distance frighteningly fast.

Aldric shouted in alarm as the creature slammed into the chair hard enough to nearly knock it backward. The wolf’s jaws closed around the ropes binding his wrists and tore through them violently.

The force yanked Aldric partly sideways.

He cried out again.

The ropes around his legs snapped next.

Then the wolf shoved him off the chair completely.

Aldric hit the floor hard.

The breath left him in a sharp sound.

He scrambled backward immediately, dragging himself across the stone floor before finally managing to half-rise onto one elbow.

Then he looked up at Darion.

And suddenly his expression changed.

Not panic this time.

Recognition.

Horrified recognition.

"So... all those nights..." he said slowly.

Darion stopped walking.

Aldric stared at him with widening eyes.

"All those nights my knights kept dying..."

His voice became quieter.

"It was you."

Darion blinked once.

Honestly, the question surprised him slightly.

"Are you stupid?" he asked flatly.

Aldric stared at him.

"I thought you’d already figured that out." Darion continued walking slowly toward him. "Your men certainly did before they died."

Aldric’s face twisted.

"You’re insane," he said.

Darion ignored it.

"You used monsters," Aldric continued, voice rising again. "You sent undead into my barracks for weeks—"

"Yes."

"You butchered sleeping men!"

"Yes."

"You poisoned them!"

"Yes."

Aldric looked genuinely disturbed now.

Not politically disturbed.

Personally disturbed.

The kind of horror that came from realizing the enemy had been standing beside your walls the entire time while you failed repeatedly to stop them.

Darion kept walking toward him.

The undead knights moved too.

They did not move quickly or aggressively, but just enough to remain behind him like silent executioners.

The wolf followed beside them.

Aldric began moving backward instinctively.

One hand pushed against the floor as he retreated toward the wall behind him.

His breathing had become uneven now.

Fear was overtaking anger.

Good.

Darion stopped several feet away from him.

"Will you agree to the oath?" he asked calmly.

Aldric said nothing.

His eyes darted toward the wolf again.

Then toward the undead knights. Then toward Vera.He remained silent.

Darion looked at him for another moment.

Then he gave another command.

"Tear his clothes."

The wolf moved instantly.

Aldric shouted in genuine terror as the creature lunged toward him.