The prisoner said nothing at first.

Not because he was brave.

Seraphin could tell immediately that the man was terrified.

Anyone standing three meters away from a dragon and still remaining conscious deserved some credit for endurance alone.

Snow drifted quietly through the clearing while Aurethar’s golden eyes remained fixed on the kneeling infiltrator.

The dragon exhaled slowly.

Warm smoke rolled across the frozen ground.

"Mortals usually explain themselves faster," Aurethar observed.

The prisoner swallowed hard.

Malen stood nearby with his sword resting against one shoulder, looking patient in the same way executioners probably looked patient.

Which did not help the atmosphere.

Seraphin finally stepped forward before the situation devolved further.

"You entered royal territory illegally during an active crown investigation."

His voice remained calm.

"Your group carried southern steel, military formations, and concealed markings."

The investigator crouched slightly until he was level with the prisoner.

"So let me ask again."

A pause.

"Who sent you?"

The man looked between them: the investigator the Peak Knight the dragon

Then laughed weakly.

Not confident laughter.

The exhausted kind.

"You think this is about you?"

Nobody answered.

The prisoner looked toward the dark forests surrounding them.

"You people don’t understand what’s happening in the south."

That caught Seraphin’s attention immediately.

The infiltrator continued quietly.

"Nobles are moving already."

Malen frowned slightly.

"Moving toward what?"

Still kneeling in the snow, the prisoner looked toward the distant direction of Elarion hidden beyond the storm-covered mountains.

"Toward him."

Silence settled briefly across the clearing.

Because everyone understood who "him" meant.

Lucien.

Seraphin’s expression hardened slightly.

"Why?"

The infiltrator laughed again, though this time bitterness replaced fear.

"Because rumors spread faster than snowstorms."

The younger investigator stepped closer.

"What rumors?"

The prisoner looked genuinely incredulous.

"A dying exile rebuilding a northern territory in months."

He nodded toward Aurethar.

"A dragon appearing in frontier skies."

Then toward the northern knights.

"Armed patrols growing stronger every week."

Another pause.

"Trade caravans returning south talking about furnaces burning through entire nights."

The forest grew quieter afterward.

Because when spoken aloud like that—

Elarion truly did sound dangerous.

The infiltrator lowered his voice slightly.

"People notice things."

Seraphin studied the man carefully now.

Not an assassin then.

Not exactly.

Something else.

Information gatherers perhaps.

Scouts.

Advance observers.

The investigator finally asked the important question.

"Who ordered this mission?"

The prisoner hesitated.

Malen’s hand shifted slightly against his sword.

The hesitation ended quickly.

"...House Merrow."

Seraphin’s eyes narrowed immediately.

The younger investigator cursed softly under his breath.

That name mattered.

A powerful southern noble house closely tied to trade, intelligence networks, and political maneuvering.

Dangerous people.

Malen looked toward Seraphin.

"You know them."

"Yes."

The investigator rose slowly afterward.

"And if House Merrow is involved, then this wasn’t a rogue operation."

Which meant something far more troublesome:

Southern nobles had officially begun paying attention to Elarion.

Aurethar yawned massively nearby.

"Your southern nobles sound exhausting."

"They are," Seraphin admitted.

The dragon snorted smoke.

"You should burn fewer kingdoms. It improves moods."

The younger investigator stared upward.

"...Have you burned kingdoms?"

Aurethar looked thoughtful.

"A few."

"That should not be a casual answer!"

"History becomes casual eventually."

Fairly horrifying logic.

Malen ignored the conversation entirely while searching through confiscated equipment beside the prisoners.

Then his expression shifted slightly.

"Seraphin."

The investigator walked over.

Malen handed him a sealed metal token marked with a silver crest partially hidden beneath black cloth.

Seraphin recognized it instantly.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

"...That’s impossible."

The younger investigator frowned.

"What?"

Seraphin turned the token over slowly in his hand.

"This isn’t House Merrow’s crest."

Silence.

Then he looked toward the captured infiltrator.

"This belongs to the Royal Intelligence Bureau."

The clearing became very still afterward.

Even Aurethar seemed interested now.

The prisoner lowered his head slightly.

Not denial.

Not surprise.

Acceptance.

Malen’s voice hardened.

"So the crown sent you."

"No," the prisoner answered immediately.

"The Bureau did." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"That distinction sounds extremely dangerous," Seraphin muttered.

Because it was.

The Royal Intelligence Bureau technically served the crown.

Technically.

In reality, it operated more like a shadow organization balancing noble power, political threats, and internal security through methods nobody publicly acknowledged.

If the Bureau sent agents north secretly—

Then someone important considered Lucien a growing threat already.

Or a valuable asset.

Possibly both.

The younger investigator looked genuinely disturbed now.

"Does His Majesty know about this?"

The prisoner stayed silent again.

Which honestly answered enough.

Seraphin exhaled slowly into the cold air.

The situation had officially become political poison.

Aurethar looked toward the prisoner afterward.

"So."

The dragon’s voice rumbled softly through the forest.

"You came all this way to spy on my contractor."

The prisoner wisely did not correct the phrasing.

Aurethar tilted his head slightly.

"Disappointing."

Then suddenly the dragon leaned closer.

Massive golden eyes narrowed.

"But now I am curious."

Snow swirled violently around the clearing as ancient mana pressure rolled outward faintly from the dragon’s body.

The infiltrators visibly trembled.

"Tell me," Aurethar asked quietly, "what exactly do the humans fear he will become?"

The prisoner looked toward the distant mountains again.

Toward Elarion.

Toward the hidden furnaces beneath the snow.

Then finally answered in a nearly whispered voice.

"...Someone powerful enough that the kingdom can no longer control him."

Silence followed.

Heavy silence.

Because deep down—

Everyone there understood the terrifying part.

That fear might not be wrong.