Kane gathered his inner circle near the stone fountain, where rushing water and open air would scramble any palace scrying attempts.

Thora, Sira, Kessa, Rutheus, Grieselda, and Brak, along with six other barbarians, sat around a wide table, waiting patiently for their warlord to speak.

Kane leaned forward and laid out everything he knew in plain language, weaving the scattered pieces of intelligence they had gathered so far into a cohesive picture.

"The elven queen shifted her entire political strategy five years ago," Kane explained smoothly, resting his hands flat against the cool marble.

"Something happened that made an immortal queen suddenly fear death and start acting paranoid. The prince also possesses a hidden combat technique, that vicious nerve strike he used to cripple Rutheus today, something that didn’t exist in previous years. The golden boy has been training in secret."

Rutheus spoke up first, taking a slow sip of wine while his left hand turned the clay cup in his grip.

He was still deliberately practicing the motion, adapting to his new one-armed reality with veteran patience.

"Five years ago, the prince traveled to the northern border," Rutheus rumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a strange weight.

"Eight months. Three northern tribes went silent during that window. The golden cunt went up there to finish what the old massacre started."

Kane looked across the stone table, his eyes narrowing as he studied the older warrior.

"You already knew about this."

"I strongly suspected it," Rutheus corrected him, keeping his eyes focused on his swirling wine.

"And I confirmed those suspicions by talking to a few old contacts in the lower districts yesterday."

Sira leaned closer to the table, her orange hair catching the pale moonlight.

"What’s located at the northern border?"

Rutheus stayed perfectly quiet for a long moment before answering, and the pain in his voice was impossible to hide.

"The sealed mountain range. It’s the place where the Dragonblood Clan retreated after the great massacre centuries ago."

Everyone sitting at the war council went completely still.

"He went up there to find the other surviving barbarian clans," Kane deduced.

"He went to finish exactly what the original massacre started," Rutheus agreed, and his voice sounded entirely flat.

"Eight months. We lost all contact with three smaller northern tribes during that specific window, yet nobody ever connected their sudden disappearance to a royal diplomatic mission."

Kessa pressed her striped hands flat against the table, her eyes widening as her feral instincts caught up to the political reality.

"He killed all of them."

"He was preparing," Rutheus clarified, shaking his head slowly.

"He was preparing for something specific. The new nerve technique, the hidden combat developments, and the five years of the queen’s escalating fear are all deeply connected."

A familiar blue window flared to life in front of Kane, casting a soft glow over his focused features.

[New intel: The prince has been preparing for a specific event, not the tournament.]

[Cross-reference: Queen’s behavioral shift occurred during the same window.]

[Cross-reference: Grieselda’s seal weakening timeline remains uncertain.]

[Note: The prince knows about the Fallen Choir. He went north to eliminate any potential witnesses who might know the ancient seals exist.]

Kane slowly turned his head to look at Grieselda.

The fallen angel was already looking back at him, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim courtyard.

"He knows all about you," Kane said quietly.

She offered one single nod, making the smallest possible motion to confirm his theory without needing to speak a word.

"This tournament isn’t just about winning a fancy title," Kane said, thinking aloud while tracing the edge of the marble table with his thumb.

"He needed me to come to the capital, and he specifically needed Grieselda to be here, too. This whole event is an elaborate trap, and we walked right into it just because the seer told us to."

Thora reached under the table and found his arm, wrapping her warm fingers reassuringly around his wrist.

The simple, affectionate touch grounded him, reminding him exactly why he was fighting to tear this corrupt empire apart.

"Or," Rutheus countered slowly, stroking his braided beard, "the seer told you to walk into a royal trap because you are the only person who can actually spring it from the inside."

A tense silence settled over the courtyard, leaving the group to process the horrifying implications of a royal genocide.

The echoing sounds of the bustling city at night felt strangely ominous now.

[New message from Miria: He prepared for this exact moment for five years. So did I. You are exactly where you need to be right now.]

[Note: Trust the seer or do not trust her. But she has been correct about everything so far.]

He swiped the notification away and stood up from his chair.

"We need a new plan," Kane announced, his voice carrying renewed authority.

"Thora, I need you to map every single magical signature within a three-block radius of this residence before morning. Look for anything that feels like a hidden seal or a royal suppression barrier."

"Consider it done," Thora promised, her amber eyes flashing with fierce determination.

"Sira, go find Firlia," Kane ordered, turning to his loyal archer.

"She’s hiding in this city somewhere, and I need to know exactly what the prince has been doing in the capital for the past two days."

"I will track her down tonight," Sira nodded, already mentally preparing her stealth gear for a midnight run across the rooftops.

"Rutheus, what about those three northern clans?" Kane asked, shifting his gaze back to the veteran.

"Are there any survivors at all?"

Rutheus stayed quiet for a few seconds while sifting through his painful memories.

"There is one. An elder woman who came south about ten years ago. She lives quietly down in the lower district."

"I want to talk to her tomorrow morning," Kane instructed, planning his next move carefully.

"Kessa, I need you to stay very close to Grieselda," Kane continued, looking at the striped beastwoman.

"You aren’t protecting her, but you need to be fully present. If something moves against her in the shadows, I want you standing right between it and her first."

Kessa looked across the table at the fallen angel.

Grieselda stared right back with her piercing golden eyes, offering no readable emotion to the fierce fighter.

"Fine," Kessa agreed, crossing her muscular arms.

"Brak," Kane said.

The young vanguard warrior sat up straight immediately, eager to receive his vital, life-threatening mission for the evening.

"Get some sleep," Kane said casually.

"You’re the only person in this group who doesn’t need to be awake for what comes next, and I need you fresh for tomorrow."

Brak looked mildly offended for a split second before a wave of genuine relief washed over his young face.

"Understood, Chief," he replied happily, completely content to leave the high-stakes political maneuvering to the adults.

"Get ready. Tomorrow, the banquet is ours."